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It’s two days after Haibara’s funeral.
He is— was the glue of your little group of three, the one who made you smile and gave you and Nanami courage every time you needed some cheering up.
Now he’s gone, and Nanami will be, too.
The only thing left to do is get out, he had said. The sorcerer life will consume you until there’s nothing more to you, and Haibara wouldn’t’ve wanted that for either of you.
You think you may be dehydrated from crying nonstop— as you have been for the better part of the week— and your eyes show no sign of relenting.
Today you gathered the strength to shower, and it made you feel better, if you could even say that. It was the little spark you needed to take out your suitcase from the bottom of your closet and start packing.
You’re halfway done, your bed isn’t a mess anymore— all the clothes you’re taking with you are folded and ready in the suitcase by the little kitchenette.
There’s a knock on your door, and anxiety builds up in your gut. You haven’t had any visitors in days, the last one was Nanami, who had come so you could share some anecdotes together— share your loss.
You know the rest of your place looks chaotic, so whoever it is will definitely wince and judge you for it. You’re not ready to face anyone, you don’t want to explain—
The knocking returns, and if you concentrate enough on the remarkable cursed energy behind the door, you may have an educated guess of whose fist is making this awful sound.
You twist the knob and open the door— just a crack.
“Suguru?”
You know you must sound horrible, voice barely over a gasp. He looks like he’s seen better days.
“Are you busy?”
His eyes move up to look above your head, trying to sneak a peek inside your dorm room.
You bite the inside of your cheek for a moment, and then you make the decision.
It’s Geto—he’s the tactful one out of the strongest duo, so he probably won’t give you a hard time about it.
You open the door the rest of the way, and move aside to give him some space.
“Uh, no. Come in.”
He can tell you’re not well. Your nails are bitten raw and you keep pinching the skin on your arms as you grit your teeth.
Hands inside his pockets, he wordlessly makes his way through your small place and stands in the middle, admiring the clothes strewn pretty much everywhere.
You rub your arm in an awkward manner, not knowing what to say or where to look.
“So uh,” you break the silence. “How are you doing?”
“Better than you, clearly.”
You frown, obviously upset and put off by his observation. No need to call you out like that.
“I’m doing okay, thank you.”
You face him, growing more uncomfortable when you find him staring at your suitcase.
He raises a single eyebrow at you, enough to make you feel the need to explain yourself.
“You going somewhere?”
You nod, not trusting your voice.
“Gonna visit grandma?” Your lips part, but words don’t seem to come to you. “What are you being so secretive about, eh? You’re hiding something?”
“No! I’m just, uh—”
“Yeah? You’re what?”
“I’m leaving.”
“And where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“I—uh.” You gulp, almost tripping over your words. “Away from Jujutsu Tech.”
He snorts.
“C’mon. Where are you really going?”
“I— I don’t know yet. I just want a normal life.”
"What, so you're gonna pretend you don't see ugly ass curses feeding off of fucking humans? Pretend you're one of them? Reduce yourself like that?"
"There's no pride in dying like he did. Being a human would still be—"
"You're not one of them. You can't just ignore all of this. Even now, especially now, I can see your cursed energy, restless. Don't you understand?"
"I don't want to end up like- like a fucking splatter on a concrete wall after a mission gone wrong."
"You can't deny who you are. What you are. We're meant to follow this path, don't be stupid."
“Is that why you came here? To tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to do with my life?”
“I came by to check on you—”
“I don’t need you to fucking check on me. I just need to get out of this fucking place. Out of this fucking hellhole—”
“Hey, sit down. We can’t talk if you’re all hysterical like this.”
Were you not tired, and sporting a headache from all your sobbing and crying (not to mention you haven’t eaten anything more nurturing than three and a half crackers), you would’ve been offended.
You don’t really think about it, you don’t entertain the thought of just how warm his hands feel on your upper arms, or how large they are to completely envelop your biceps as he manhandles you towards the couch.
“I can’t stand this fucking place. I need out— I’m gonna go get a fucking train ticket and go anywhere else, I don’t even care. I don’t care. I just—”
“Calm down, you’re not making any sense.”
“—and fuck Yaga and fuck the higher ups and fuck all of them, I can’t be here a second longer this is killing me I need to go I need to just go I’m gonna fucking die—”
You hear it before you can feel it.
It’s automatic, the way your voice dies with the sharp slap that seems to echo across your dorm room, bouncing off the walls with shock.
Your face flies west, and the stinging pain on your cheekbone reminds you to breathe, that you’re still alive.
You’re stunned. Your eyes are wide open and leaking tears.
“Atta girl.” Suguru praises you for being quiet.
He touches your cheek—it’s a caress, and the ache burns as he assesses the reddened area. His thumb wipes a tear, and he leans closer to you.
You don’t look at him, your gaze is stuck on the forgotten gray sock on the floor.
You can feel his tongue dragging over your cheekbone, soothing and alarming all at the same.
You can’t breathe as he hums at the salty taste.
“S-suguru?”
Your voice shakes, and your heart beats like it wants to run away, get a train ticket and never look back.
He pulls away, barely an inch. You’re tasting his breath— menthol, like he just brushed his teeth before coming here. This is uncharted territory, and it makes you anxious.
It’s so subtle, you don’t notice him leaning in, not at first. But when the tip of his nose slightly grazes the side of yours— air gets knocked out of your lungs.
He looks at you, like really looks at you. From your eyes, to the tears that fall, to the heated skin on your cheek he prides himself in knowing he caused. He knows the next step is to find out how your spit tastes.
He examines your face, and you think he might be looking for any indication to retreat his moves. He’s waiting for you to tell him to stop, for you to pull away from him.
You don’t know why you don’t. You stay frozen, like a deer who’s shocked by the sudden blinding headlights approaching at top speed—even though Suguru moves slowly, a millimeter every two to three seconds— imminent death overwhelming all your senses and there’s no way you can escape this fate, there’s no use flinching away from him, you can only wait for it to come.
The anticipation is killing you. You want to bury your hands in his hair and smash your teeth against his to get it over with. You want to push him away and tell him you’ll never see him again.
Instead, his lips softly press against yours—it’s minimal, he’s not even fully kissing you yet, but you melt.
Your lips tremble, parting easily for him to fit his mouth perfectly with yours.
He kisses you, once, twice, and before you can bring yourself to fucking react, to kiss him back, he’s gone and your lips are tingling with the fading warmth.
Suguru watches you with amusement the whole minute it takes you to realize it, to open your eyes and close your mouth, stop chasing after him.
He’s still close to you, breaths mixing together in the palpable double inch that barely separates you.
“How’d that feel?” His deep voice asks.
“Good.” You can’t even whisper, you can’t find your voice, but you have faith that he’s close enough to read your thoughts.
“You want to feel good?”
His hand is soothing where it threads on your hair, cool fingertips on your scalp, like lavender on a recent burn.
You nod.
“Tell me.”
“I want to feel good.”
“What do you want me to do?”
You stay quiet, afraid.
“Do you want me to give you a little kiss, see how it feels?”
Unconsciously, you nod.
“Say the words, baby.”
“Kiss me?”
It sounds like a question—because you’re not sure if that’s what you want, but it does the trick nonetheless.
The curve of his smirk is cocky, dangerous. His lips blend with yours and you’re quick to moan in your vulnerable state.
“Does this feel good?”
He questions you with his hand rubbing on your waist, bringing you closer to dip his tongue inside your mouth.
“Yes.”
You’re still crying, and he groans when the salt of your tears makes itself present, sneaking in his open-mouthed kiss.
He kisses your cheek, lapping away your tears. He licks the line of your jaw, and advances to your earlobe so he can make you shiver.
“You like my mouth, sweetheart?”
You nod, desperate to please him so he’ll make you feel something other than complete and utter despair.
He bites on your neck, and even the painful bruise he sucks on your pulse feels better than your raw depression.
You hiccup, and he nips on your collarbone. Both his hands are gripping hard on your waist, you can't help but sob.
He takes a second to look at you once again, and your euphoria folds down, your resolve shakes and your insecurities flare up.
“I’m sorry.” It’s a whimper escaping from your windpipe.
“What are you sorry for?”
He’s still kissing you, and it’s kind of comforting, you guess (even when your lungs ache and your sobbing is nothing else but ugly, your face wet from tears and– probably snot).
“I’m-I’m a mess. I look—ugh. My eyes are swollen and—”
You gesture erratically with your hands, an awkward movement to try and explain what you can’t even comprehend.
He lets go of your waist in order to hold your hands together to a stop.
“You look so pretty when you cry.”
You don’t buy it, and you know he can tell as much, he can practically taste the disbelief on your face, because he takes one of your hands and presses it down on his lap.
You almost choke on your spit.
“Feel how hard I am? That’s all you, baby. You did this. You have no idea how much I want you.”
Your jaw drops, and your fingers tremble around his rock-hard cock over his pants.
Your mind is blank, you can’t formulate any thought at all, this is too much, too much happening too fast and you’re not ready to—
“Fuck, look at your little hand gripping on my cock. Not even fully hard yet and you’re drooling, aren’t you?”
He smashes his mouth on yours, his large hand cupping your nape to keep you there.
You shrink in your own frame, shoulders tensing and—and you can’t breathe. Suguru nibbles on your lips, parting them with his tongue, slipping it inside until he can draw spirals on the roof of your mouth.
You're confused, you've never been kissed like this. His tongue coats every surface with his own drool, tasting every bit of mouth you have to offer.
You use your tongue to push his back inside his own mouth, and you squeak in surprise—in fright, when he sucks hard on your pink muscle, sinking his teeth on your flesh when you try to pull it back.
You whine, and the weakness of it has Suguru grinding his hips into your open palm.
His hand fists your hair and pulls you back. The heavy sound of struggle that comes from your throat as you finally take a much-needed breath fills Suguru with hunger.
You cry out when he pulls harder— the roots of your hair imploring you to stop whatever is causing this pain, and then he moves you to sit on his lap, legs parted to make room for his huge throbbing cock, now snuggled between the fat of your thighs.
His thumb presses hard on your lips.
“Give it a little kiss, come on.”
Your brow furrows a bit, taken aback by the request with little to no trust.
He looks at you patiently, waiting for you to obey (because there’s really no other option than to follow his wishes).
Tentatively, you purse your lips and lean forward on the pad of his thumb. You can’t stop staring into his eyes, dark and bottomless, kind of how you imagine an abyss— or maybe even death.
“That’s it, kiss it. Don’t be scared, you can use your tongue, baby.”
Encouraged to do more, you part your lips and give his fingerprint a kitten lick. He nods and pushes his thumb further, the corner of his mouth beginning to curl when he touches your teeth.
“Go on.”
You’re not very experienced, and you sure as hell don’t know what this is about, so you try to kiss his finger as he kissed your mouth just mere seconds ago.
You flick your tongue around it, not minding the salty flavor. You close your lips on his thumb, and even dare to suck a bit.
Suguru is pleased, because he shoves his whole digit in your mouth with unnecessary strength, pinning your tongue down.
“Ah, ah, ah, don’t fight it. Open up—yes, good girl.”
It must be fucking sorcery, because your body feels like a soft noodle at his small form of praise.
He hovers above you, just looking down at you like you’re a stepping stone in his way— one pretty rock you may find during your walks to the nearby creek, interesting red markings that make you want to take it home.
He has an easygoing smile— it’s small, not showing his teeth, but it’s one of those harmless grins he often gives you. Maybe you’re both back to normal, maybe he’ll sigh and tell you it’s okay, that you’ll be fine and—
He spits.
He gathered drool in his mouth so he could spit on yours.
You squint your eyes in confusion, try to close your mouth to push out his saliva— but his thumb is holding your tongue down, and the rest of his hand grips your jaw tight.
You thrash around, attempt to get your head out of his grasp—but he’s strong, and the more you try to close your mouth, the harder he pushes your tongue, and you gag.
“Hey, hey. Don’t struggle. Keep it there.”
Your eyes get blurry with more tears, and your ears ring thick with panic.
“Shh, fucking look at me.”
His fist on your hair tightens, and you wail but it sounds like gurgling and he spits again.
“Keep it there, breathe through your nose.”
Liquid bliss escapes through your eyes, and you’re so full of gratitude for his advice, you relax a little, Suguru’s tender instruction warming its way to your altered state of mind— he does care for you. Quick huffs through your nostrils work, and he slowly removes his thumb.
“Don’t swallow until I say so. You understand?”
You shortly nod, panicked and alarmed.
“Good, keep your mouth open like that.”
He pulls harder on your hair, and you close your eyes, letting tears fall—which is exactly what he’s expecting you to do, tongue ready to lick them off your skin.
He leans down to kiss your lips, and you’re static, you can’t move, you can only keep your mouth open.
Suguru dips his tongue in between your bottom lip and teeth—pressing hard on your gums with his muscle, letting his drool fall into your open mouth and smirking at your petrified expression, pretty on your eyes soaked in horror.
He takes his time exploring the inside of your cheeks, hearing your breath hitch and learning what makes your fingers curl on the sleeves of his shirt.
He knocks his teeth with yours, and you don’t know why, but you moan.
He chuckles on your lips, sucking them and spitting one more time for good measure.
“You’ll do anything I tell you to, won’t you?”
He tastes the skin of your neck, painting dark stains where he sees fit.
He tugs down the collar of your shirt to suck a mark on your chest. Both of his hands cup your ribs, right below your breasts.
Wind feels thick on your throat, and you remind yourself to breathe through your nose so you don’t choke on the concerning amount of spit pooling in your mouth, your lack of swallowing only adding more and more fluids to the mix.
His thumbs flick over your nipples, and even though he grunts as if he were mad, you know he can still hear your whimper.
Suguru fists the soft cotton of your shirt on both hands and pulls, rips it apart to shreds as if it was nothing more than a paper napkin.
“Fuck.” He mutters, immediately kneading your tits with force.
Your back arches into his rough touch, and you don’t even register the tears that keep falling anymore.
“Knew you weren’t wearing a bra. I could see your nipples harden as soon as I stepped inside your room.”
He makes sure to leave hickies behind, to mark you as his. He sucks hard and with no mercy, keeping you in his hold and delighting in how your hips move on his lap, doesn’t matter if you’re squirming to get away from him or to produce friction between your legs.
“I love these perky tits. Love it when you go bare like this to class. Fuck, you do it just for me, don’t you? You really like to be a fucking tease.”
He closes his mouth around your whole areola, sucking hard on your nipple and flicking it with his tongue.
The long-haired man lets go of your chest for a moment, eyeing you with interest. He slips his forefinger in your mouth, dipping it in the thick mixture of saliva and gathering some around his finger.
“Remember last summer? When we went to that beach on Sarushima? ‘Fucked three different girls thinking about you. That little purple piece you wore— fuck. I couldn’t go soft after seeing you in it. Tits bouncing, all wet like that.”
He pulls his digit back, the hanging thread falling on your chin when he lowers his hand to circle your nipple with the slippery pad of his finger. He rubs you, time after time until it’s hot with friction.
Then he pulls away, blowing cool air on your pebbled bud as if it could get any harder than it already is.
He relaxes, resting his shoulders on the back of the couch.
"Here." He takes your hands and places them on his neck. "You really are a sight for sore eyes."
Even when you're straddling him, you're still the one that has to look up to meet his eyes.
His hand touches your bare thigh, feeling the soft little hairs you didn't bother to shave.
Up, up, up until he can fit the tip of his fingers under your shorts, up until the fabric is tight and he can’t advance anymore. There, right there, where he can feel the curve under your ass, he squeezes.
Suguru’s eyes close with delight, a beautiful smile that shouldn’t be elicited by your whimpering.
He lets you go in order to drag his palms over every inch of skin you have. Your shoulders, his fingers curling into the hollow of your collarbones; the side of your breasts, until he meets his other hand on your back. Surrounding your waist with both hands, like a belt.
Gripping hard on your hipbones until it hurts, thumbs digging into the shapes you have to offer.
He undoes the button of your shorts, and you flinch.
You try to pull back away from him, shake your head with haste. Spit spills from the corner of your mouth, so you close it.
It’s the wrong thing to do, because Suguru’s hand closes around your throat, fingers forcing your jaw open.
“You don’t want me to see? Is that it?”
It’s soft, above a whisper. The question is caring and full of emotion, and you feel broken.
You slowly move your head up and down, as much as he allows you to.
You don’t dare to swallow.
“It’s okay, baby. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”
He pinches your nipple with his other hand, trapping it between his knuckles and pulling until you fight back in discomfort.
“I’ll tell you what.” He starts. “I’ll close my eyes. You can use your hands to block my view. If you don’t want to keep going, you can drink the spit that’s inside your pretty mouth and we’ll stop for now.”
Your eyes grow in size, hoping he’ll release you.
“However, if I find you’re wet between your legs…”
The muscles of your thighs contract, and a shiver breaks through your body when he grazes the tip of his finger down your navel, pulling down the zipper.
“Well—” He chuckles. “I’m going to need to see it. You understand, don’t you?”
You sigh, nodding.
Suguru pulls you forward until he can kiss your neck, soothing your nerves with his tender lips.
He places your small hands over his closed eyes, and his hands begin the journey to your center.
He pushes the shorts down and holds you while he slides them down your legs and off—you hear the faint thud of them landing on the floor. He finds your underwear next, easily slipping his fingers under the elastic of your panties.
He rubs careful circles on your butt, spreading your asscheeks apart until he feels you stiffen.
“So pretty.” He whispers.
You know he won’t stop, he’ll never leave you alone, and it’s a lost cause because there’s so much saliva sloshing around in your mouth, you can’t stop it from leaking, drooling from your lips.
You look up so it doesn’t fall as quickly, but there’s so, so much, it keeps flowing like a broken faucet. Your chin is all slippery, and it tickles when it slowly trails down your neck.
You stare into an old spiderweb on the ceiling as Suguru’s thumb finds the humiliating moisture seeping through the fabric of your last article of clothing.
It’s like he’s stuck there, tracing the pad of his finger back and forth, and you refuse to believe he’s found your clit this quickly, it must be some kind of terrible coincidence.
Your back arches deeply, and Suguru pushes deeper, as if naturally attracted by the gradient, following the path to where he’ll find the source of your fluids, pleased at how fucking soaked you are.
He doesn’t ask you or even gives any semblance of a warning before pulling hard on your underwear, snapping the elastic apart to leave you bare and unprotected.
“I can fucking smell you.” He growls.
You have no time to shield yourself, and you’re struck by lightning when two of his big fingers spread apart the lips of your pussy.
And it’s embarrassing, that you’ve leaked so much arousal, the motion produces a lewd schlick that is loud in the silence of your dorm room.
You press the heels of your hands harder on Suguru’s eyes. You don’t want him to see you like this.
In contrast, he draws hearts around your entrance with his fingers, smirking like the fucking bastard he is before he slips his index inside your pussy. You tremble at the unexpected burn, dropping your stiff shoulders when he moves it from side to side, curling and flexing— mapping your walls.
He slowly takes it out, still curled. He has no way of seeing it, but there's a big glob of a white-ish, thick substance clinging to his forefinger.
He lifts his hand a bit, almost right on your face.
"See this?" He teases. "This is all for me, isn't it?"
Suguru rubs the jelly-like cream between his index and his thumb, and you stare horrified at how sticky it turns out to be.
He shoves two fingers inside his mouth, moaning at the taste, slurping obscenely. He keeps going until they come out clean.
Then, he pushes both fingers inside your mouth— swirling them around in the massive amount of spit you’re still holding.
“Such a good pet, waiting for your treat?” He asks, not expecting you to answer.
His fingers are coated in drool, dripping the unbelievable excess they carry.
Suguru places both of them on your vulva, rubbing you around, marveling at how sloppy and slippery your cunt is because of him.
You moan, hot blood filling your cheeks as you give in and rock your hips to seek after his slobbered fingers.
“Poor little girl, you want more?” You whine loudly, crying. “You need more?”
You sob. You don’t want any of this. You don’t understand— why do you feel this way? When you had been empty the last couple days, mourning in pain. That’s not real anymore, that can’t possibly be. There’s nothing in your mind but the intense, delicious pull you feel down in your core.
You feel it trailing down your thighs, and it feels different from the tears you’re still crying.
Your frame shakes as your hips stutter, and it’s not enough, it’s not nearly enough, but it feels so good—
“C’mere, love.”
He helps you move on his lap, and you don’t think about it too much when your hands fall on his shoulders, grabbing him for support.
You’re startled by his dark eyes locked on your face, but quickly distracted when he pushes his hips up, and his hardness nudges on your groin.
It’s crazy how you need to repeat the motion. His hands on your waist are encouraging, and you feel a little guilty for using him for your own pleasure.
You grind down on his solid cock, not bothered by the layer of clothes dividing you. You don’t even care that he’s plainly staring at you now, watching you hump him with frustration, not reaching your peak.
Your hips move on their own accord, your tits bounce with every little jump you make to try to feel better.
It’s a pity, kind of endearing, he thinks, when you grow tired and your movements grow slower.
You just now notice how much spit is coating your skin, how much has fallen from your mouth.
His eyes shine, his damp fingers caress your cheek.
“Such a shame…” He mutters. “Do you want to swallow, sweetheart?”
He can barely contain the mocking laughter that bubbles inside his chest when your expression turns even more desperate, pleading for mercy.
Little drool escapes from your lips, and Suguru collects the remnants to push them back inside your mouth.
You understand, sucking around his fingers, finding a new flavor on his skin. It’s how you taste down there, you realize with surprise.
Suguru likes your lips like this, wrapped tight around his fingers, so he lets you keep them that way.
“You really want this, don’t you? Look at the mess you’ve made.”
He doesn’t wait for you to look, he makes you stare into the fabric of his now ruined trousers, where you’ve squirmed so much that sticky slick is now smeared across his crotch, a dark, damp outline perfectly painting the place his cock throbs bigger and bigger.
You’re in shock, your hands tremble and you don’t understand what’s supposed to happen as you watch him unbutton his pants and take out his huge cock.
He pushes you down, forcing your mouth open so the fucking gallon of spit— he can’t believe you saved all of that, really— cascades down on his cock.
He hums as his dick is easily lubricated, letting you straighten your back to sit up.
Suguru knows you’re scared, and that you’d rather step back and runaway like the fucking coward you are, so he grabs the back of your thighs and pulls you in quickly.
You groan, the sensation of his bare cock directly pressing on your vulva too much for you to handle.
Your eyes shut closed, and you hide your face to the side, forehead leaning on Suguru’s shoulder.
“Don’t go all shy like that. I know you’re dying for me to touch you. You want to feel good, don’t you?”
He hugs you close to his chest, close to his heart, where you cling to him like he has the secret to salvation.
His hands are heavy and very pleasantly warm on your hips, gravity pulling you down until your drooling cunt slides over his shaft.
Suguru is kind, so he helps you rub your center against his, until the muscles on your innermost thighs cramp and you stutter still.
He cups your face, lapping up your fresh tears and humming. Your eyes slowly open, but won’t move away from the irregular shaped stain on this old couch.
He smirks, you’re really making it easy for him.
“You don’t want to be here, do you?”
You nod, because you just want to be left alone.
His embrace locks around you, and then he stands up with your helpless body in his arms.
His large cock feels abnormal between your open legs, and you involuntarily grind on him as he kicks off his pants and boxers.
He lays you on your bed, soon adding his warmth behind you when he spoons your smaller figure.
Then, when you’re just about to breathe out in a fucked-up sense of relief, he lifts up your leg to slot his hard cock between your chubby thighs.
You feel disgusting. Like a stupid animal with little to no control of its own actions.
Your folds part to accommodate Suguru's thick cock between your heat, and you may as well have pissed yourself, because everything's drenched from your belly button down.
Suguru rocks his hips, and waits for the panicked squirming he knows you'll make.
He locks you in place with a large hand over the sharp bone of your hip, pulling you back against his chest.
“It’s not going in, see?”
Suguru drags the swollen head of his cock along the line of your slit, pressing on your folds and teasing your entrance.
“Don’t you trust me, baby?”
You arch your back, pushing your ass back into him when you feel his cock sliding sloppily around your clit.
"How does it feel?"
"Hot. Ah, slippery."
"Yeah? You did this, baby. All this slick and spit, 's all yours."
His breath is warm on your ear, and you whimper when the fat tip starts pressing at a different angle, almost going into your virgin cunt.
“Shh, don’t worry. I’ll just rub it like this. Fuck. You think you can cum like this? I bet you do. Feels good, doesn't it?"
"Uh huh." You agree, your body weak from everything you've gone through, tired from fighting.
You throw your head back, almost smiling when you feel Suguru kiss your jaw as he continues to fuck your thighs.
It’s easy, letting him use you like this. Letting yourself feel something other than sadness. Pleasure is overwhelming, taking over your senses.
You feel it growing in your gut, the need to dive into the unknown. Letting go would feel so good. He'd take care of you, wouldn’t he? Suguru is making you feel so good.
Suguru feels so good. Every little thing he’s doing to you makes you needy, and you don’t even remember how miserable you were mere hours ago.
God, can you really cum like this? You're mostly inexperienced when it comes to romantic stuff, and truly, it shows, and Suguru is making you feel so good.
Your thighs clench, feeling yourself getting closer and closer. Even with the increased pressure, Suguru's fat cock slides easily between the meat of your thighs, proof of how wet you are.
You don’t care that you’re still crying, what matters is that—
A loud, pained scream breaks your train of thought, and the soreness of your ripped throat points to your vocal cords as the culprit.
“Oh— fuck. My bad. Fuck, it just slipped right in. Shit, you’re really sucking me in, sweetheart. So tight, I can't even pull out. How are you this fucking tight when you’ve been soaking wet this whole time?”
Even though you think he's being careful with his movements, it still hurts like nothing you've ever felt before.
“I’ve- I never—”
“Shh, it’s okay— I’m really good at this. You’re gonna fucking thank me by the time I’m done with you. Hell, you’ll be asking for more.”
He'll keep going?
You realize with dread, as his hands crudely grab your tits to squeeze and his hips slam into you, that he's not changing his mind.
This is not what you wanted. Not when you opened your door, not when you asked him to kiss you— you really did ask for it, didn't you?
How about when you opened your mouth for him? Or when you couldn't resist grinding your dripping cunt on his fingers?
"Fuck." He moans, and your brow frowns with want.
Suguru kneels on your mattress, holding up one of your legs to his chest as he straddles the other one. He immediately rams his cock back inside your pussy again, hitting your cervix and relishing in the pained moan you cry.
"I know it hurts, baby, but you'll take it, right? You're gonna be a good– fucking– girl and take everything, won't you?"
His hand closes around your neck. You instantly gasp, your smaller hands clawing at his wrist to let go and let you breathe.
Your eyes start vibrating, your head uneasy with incomplete thoughts spinning inside.
You're distraught. Your first time was supposed to be— well, if not special, meaningful? And Suguru isn't even using some sort of protection—
“What?” He laughs at you.
Your eyes bulge, humiliation only serving to coat his cock in slick.
“I’m not gonna pull out to go get a fucking condom. That’d be an insult— god, this is it, right there. Can you feel it? How hot it feels? How drenched you are right here?”
Suguru releases his hold on your throat so he can hear you sing for him.
He moves his hips in a way you can only describe as obscene, rolling his body on top of yours, hard abs tensing as his rhythm gains a new objective: reaching that hidden place inside your pussy that feels like the filthiest sanctuary known to mankind.
The smooth head of his cock fits almost perfectly there— it’s a little too tight, he’s not gonna lie. But your brow furrows and your mouth opens in pleasure— or pain, it’s whatever— and the most pornographic moan you’ve ever heard bursts from your chest, all the way to Suguru’s ears and yours, the terrible echo bouncing off the bare walls of your room.
Right there, there’s a space designed only for him— only for his cock to reach, where the tissue turns even softer, your slick feels even better, somehow moister and your muscles cling tighter around him. This is it.
You’re mortified by how fucking heavenly it feels— no, not heavenly, this is lewd. Heaven wouldn’t feel this good, heaven wouldn’t make you writhe in panic and turn you into a desperate piteous thing, forgetting everything else but the blissful sensation of Suguru’s huge cock covered in the drool he’s found between your legs, prodding you from the inside, his devilish grin doing nothing to hide the obsession that glimmers in his eyes.
This is lust, an actual reason to never even get to see heaven.
He pulls away from you for a moment, and you hear something— he straightens his posture, as if he had just been crouching, and he’s distractedly messing with his phone, which is now in his hand.
“You don’t mind, right? Satoru won’t believe me if I just say I fucked you. He’ll ask for proof, and you don’t want your new boyfriend to be called a liar, do you?”
You gasp, quickly shaking your head no because the idea of someone watching how Suguru defiled you when you were at your lowest is just horrifying—
“I’m a nice guy, y’know. I’ll let you choose if you wanna show your ass or your face.”
You can’t possibly tense your shoulders any more than this, and well, you guess you’d rather not show your face. Your rear end wouldn’t be recognized as quickly as your face would be, right?
He likes this pretty look on your dumb face, stunned and stupid with disbelief, your silly expression so transparent, he can practically see the slow engines in your brain trying to get a grasp of what the fuck is going on.
You’re suddenly blinded, pupils contracting against your will and you realize— Suguru just snapped a picture of you.
“Don’t worry, that one’s just for me.”
With wobbly knees, you start to turn around, missing the sight of Suguru’s pleased eyes and smug smirk.
He pushes you down into the mattress and presses record.
And if it looks anything like a rape tape, it’s because it just might be.
Your hands fisting the bedsheets with a knuckle white grip, your tragic whimpers loud and clear for the phone’s mic.
Suguru’s monster cock drives in and out of your pussy, and you look so fucking small beneath him, is almost comical— but it turns him rock solid.
He loves the sight.
“Remember that time we went to that little izakaya to celebrate Shoko’s promotion? The glitter you placed under your eyes? How drunk you got, fucking clinging to my arm because you couldn’t even walk straight.
“You know how fucking easy it would’ve been for me— take you to the restroom, fuck you right there against the sink? Bet you wouldn’t have minded, I know how fucking wet you get when you drink.
“Fuck, I’ve been jerking off with your panties for so long. To the smell of you. And you’re so fucking oblivious. So fucking naive.
“And every time you dance around the kitchen— god, wearing those blue shorts Utahime gave you? Do you know how fucking juicy you look, bouncing it like that? Makes me want to eat your ass so fucking bad.”
At that, he feels you clench around his length.
“Oh?” He laughs, rejoicing in the humiliation you irradiate. “You like the sound of that, baby? You want my tongue in your tight little rim? Fucking filthy slut, who would’ve thought? Babygirl wants to be fucked in the ass.”
He spits at you, as if you were nothing more than dirt from the streets and just offending to look at. It’s harsh, and it lands right above your asshole. You can feel it sliding down your crack, and disappearing with the terrible mix of fluids Suguru is pumping into you.
You barely register the slight graze of his thumb on your hole, and when it happens again, your whole body shrinks in itself and your spine curves like a cat.
“Scared?” He muses, you’re nothing more than some silly entertainment for him. “Use your words, love.”
It’s oddly tender, the way the word falls from his pink lips, and you can’t find your voice.
The pad of his thumb presses lightly on your asshole.
“C’mon baby, tell me who’s fucking you.”
When you don’t respond to his command, he smacks your ass so hard, that you’re a hundred percent sure it instantly starts bruising, and your mind is occupied by a sorrowful shade of cerulean.
He immediately kneads the sore spot, grabbing it with force and hurting you further. He pushes the flesh to the side, so the camera can focus on your tight hole, red and evidently way too small for a big veiny cock like his.
He bottoms out, angling his hips until the patch of dark hair on his pelvis is pressed fully on your ass.
You cry out like a wounded animal, screaming and struggling to climb your way up your bed, trying to crawl away from him, away from his pain-inducing cock.
“Say my name, sweetheart.” His voice is calm, but the tone raises goosebumps on your skin.
“Suguru.” Your voice shakes, and that’s all you can manage.
“Yeah?”
He drags his hips back, slowly. You take a deep breath, trying to make the most of this moment, before you choke on an ugly sob when he plunges into you.
“Please!”
“Who’s splitting you in half right now?”
“Suguru!”
“Who’s stretching this tight cunt open?”
“Suguru, p-please.”
He swiftly slips out, easily turning you around to lay on your back.
There, the camera zooms in on your thighs, catching on the contrast of your dark blood and the white globs of your thick slick smeared all over your skin.
“Who’s taking your virginity, baby?”
“S-suguru.”
Your tits are all marked up by him, and a fresh wave of tears traces new paths on your stained cheeks.
Suguru parts your legs, getting closer until his balls are fully pressed on your vulva, and he watches how his cock reaches way past your belly button, the flushed head of his cock landing just below a burgundy mark a couple inches under your breasts.
“Look at this.” He speaks to the camera. “I’m gonna carve this pussy to take me and just me. Gonna ruin you for everybody else. You won’t be able to look at other men without thinking of my cock.”
His cock— which looks fucking huge resting on your entire stomach, taking a big portion of your body.
It’s amazing, how the camera catches the exact shade of pink the tip of his cock is, contrasting it to your darker folds, which spread for him to get his dick wet.
He ends the video right there, dropping his phone to the floor and caging you between his strong arms, towering over you with his long hair serving as an obscure curtain.
His eyes are like death. Boring into yours, searching for your soul to steal and play with.
Your heart aches, pumping blood as fast as it dares.
“You were made for me, y’know.”
He’s serious. This is not some sort of dirty talk he’s made up to feel your insides contracting around his massive length. This is the absolute truth.
“You were born to be with me, so I could have you like this.”
His cock slides with a new sense of familiarity inside you. Your pussy accommodates him, creating a void so he’ll be sucked right in.
He hikes up your legs, bending your knees and urging you to lock ankles behind his back.
“You’re. Fucking. Mine.” He grunts from his gritted teeth, ramming into you with loud slaps of his balls to your ass.
Your hands cup his face, and he’s almost taken aback by the softness pooling in your eyes, the sweetness of the gesture. Your fingers thread through his hair, weak on his scalp.
He has no other choice but to kiss you.
His embrace is solid, he’ll never let you go. But his lips— oh, his lips.
His perfect lips soaked in the salt of your tears, kissing you so lovingly, so expertly, that he manages to make you forget about all your reservations.
You feel full with him like this— inside you, on top of you, all around you. There’s no other place you’d rather be.
The skin of his bare chest sensually rubs with yours as he makes love to you, and his pelvis grinds so deliciously on your hooded clit, you feel yourself getting closer, and closer.
“Yes, fucking milk my cock. Fuck, you want it bad, don’t you? Want my hot cum? ‘s just for you baby, ‘s all yours.”
And while the promise of being filled with warmth sounds nice, you know it’s not.
“N-not inside, please.”
“You’re gonna be so full of my cum, fuck. You can take a pill, I don’t give a shit. I’ll just do it again and again until it takes.”
You shut your eyes to push out the latest batch of salty tears, shaking your head from side to side. And even when you so visibly reject the idea, Suguru knows better.
Suguru knows better, because when he leans his shoulders back and angles his hips up, he feels the spongy tissue of your pussy tightening.
Your forehead wrinkles, frightened by the irresistible sensation. It's like the muscles of your belly contract against your will, pushing lower and lower, pressing down on Suguru's fat cock.
God, is he poking your bladder? You feel like you could piss yourself, boiling hot and about to fucking burst.
Sooner than you realize, with your eyes still closed and with your throat raw from screaming, you hear it.
The distinctive sound of a strong jet of liquid splashing against a solid surface at top speed.
You're scandalized, did you really just pee?
You open your eyes in time to see Suguru's face contorted in absolute bliss, what you can only call pleasure. You briefly wonder if this is how angels who commit sins look like, before realizing the consequences of their lust.
He swiftly pulls out of you, and it's shocking— to feel the difference, to feel so suddenly empty and helpless.
"Sweetheart, baby. You just squirted all over me." He says with awe in his deadly eyes.
He leans down between your legs, biting your thigh when you try to close them to hide yourself in shame.
(Suguru almost smirks in amusement— you're just like Eve, covering herself up right after sinning)
Suguru's hands hold your hips and ass in a reassuring manner, as his mouth closes on your hooded clit and moans.
It's fucking outrageous, the fireworks you can actually see on your closed lids, the atomic bomb he manages to detonate from deep within your guts. Lethal radiation spreads through every single cell of your body and electric current fries your nerves in an earth-shattering orgasm.
The tendons in your thighs stand out as they cramp around Suguru's head, his mysterious eyes fixated on the minimal change of your pornographic expression.
You feel like you could die.
You're so unbelievably wet— and your bed is, too, probably seeping through the other side of the mattress by now. And it's all so hot.
You can only mewl and try to rub your legs for more friction when you feel his throbbing cock push inside you again.
He says something, but you feel like you've been drugged— too far gone to listen to anything that might make some semblance of sense.
You feel the vibrations of his mutterings against your nipple, where his tongue comes out to flick it. He sort of reminds you of the devil.
He sucks around your peak, and your hands bury themselves on his hair to fist and pull closer, and closer.
You plant both feet on bed, and you buck your hips up to meet his thrusts— impaling yourself even further on his length because the pain that the fat head of his cock causes by bumping into your cervix has grown into a need.
He's painting renaissance art on the side of your neck, measuring your heart rate with his tongue, and you just know you're about to meet god.
Suguru pulls back, looking satisfied as he admires the masterpiece he just shattered into pieces and put back together bit by bit, all by his own fucking self. Proud.
He watches as you pant, large intakes of air through your very open mouth.
Angel, don't you ever learn?
He lets you catch sight of the deviant glint in his eyes for a second, and then he spits at you. It’s offensive and vulgar and obscene, and you want more.
Some of it lands on your hanging tongue, sliding easily down your sore throat.
Some of it hits your cheek, almost on your eye.
You don't struggle when his fingers collect his drool and push it back where it belongs. No, instead, you suck around his fingers, tightening the grip of your lips when he threatens to pull them out.
He hooks his digits on your inner cheek and says,
"Good fucking girl."
His hips stammer, sheathing himself deeper into you every time his cock slams in your ruined pussy.
What makes him finally cum, is the synchrony of your tears with the bulging of your trachea when you try not to gag on his thick fingers and you swallow instead.
(and yes, the sight of your spread legs bouncing as he fucks you like the fucking slut he knows you are)
It hurts, heavy ropes of cum filling you up to the brim, mixing with your blood and slick deep into your cunt.
Suguru leans his forehead on yours, mixing both of your sweat and the wind of your lungs, too. He kisses your cheek as he pulls his cock out, the two of you hissing instantly.
His fingers slip out of your mouth— and you whine in protest. He smirks, leaning back and watching his pearly white cum seeping out of your hole.
Gathering some of it with his thumb, he loses no time in sticking it between your lips again, rubbing the pad against your tastebuds.
He’s delighted by your expression, big doe eyes looking up at him— pleading.
He’s ecstatic when his finger comes out clean.
He gives you a short kiss, surrounding you with his arm in an awful display of an after sex cuddling.
It should be soothing and caring or something along those lines, but you don’t know why you feel devastated.
You can only keep crying harder and harder, contracted muscles not budging.
“Look at me.”
And you shut your eyes tighter.
“I said, fucking look at me.”
He turns you around, and your eyes open out of pure fear.
“You did great, baby— took my cock so well.”
His honeyed voice warms your chest as his hand pats your head, combing through your hair and bringing you down to listen to his heart— embracing you like a lover would.
“I know it must’ve hurt, but it’ll only get better from now on. Gonna train you to be my perfect little cock sleeve.”
His lips tickle the back of your neck, and you think you might be Suguru Geto’s girlfriend now.
You turn your head to lay with him as comfortably as you can, and just when your body relaxes— exhaustion kicking in— you catch sight of your suitcase, and it feels like a memory from another life.
So much for running away.