Suguru

Not many things get in between him and Suguru. With the sole exception of his pretty, poised, personal cult assistant—you.

Suguru's defection left Satoru hollow. His only solace? The rendezvous hidden between cramped alleyways, shadowed backseats, and some forbidden corner in that godforsaken cult.

But ever since you came around, seems his title as 'favourite slut' washed down the drain.

The already little time Suguru has for him thins. No more secret kisses on his patio, midnight calls, early morning nudes. He'd be lucky if Suguru replies to a text, let alone pick up. Hands probably occupied between your thighs, around your neck, cradling you in all the tender ways Satoru's a glutton for.

He saw it once. A surprise visit to his dearly beloathed turned into six, shimmered eyes peeping at Suguru's office door. Fixed on your knees dangled over broad shoulders and the puddle slicked on his desk.

"Good girl, that's it. Who's my favourite little slut?"

His heart shrivelled. He was.

"Me—it's me, Geto-Sama."

You whined. Satoru now knew the voice of his replacement.

At least Suguru hasn't completely tossed him out. On rare occasion, he'd find his face smushed in the pillow, ass up, whimpering as dark hair curtains him in. Losing himself to stupid admissions like I love you and I miss you.

Suguru never says it back. But at least he fills Satoru up. Warmth in cum is better than none at all, right?

He probably fills you up whenever you bat your doll eyes at him. Says I missed you when he slides into you. Mumbles I love you on your ear as he tenders your clit and squirts your precious cunt.

Guess he couldn't blame Suguru after he met you a few times. You greeted, bowed, smile so sweet it weakened any man. Voice silk and body velvet.

"Ah, Gojo-San." Your head tilted, knowing. "Can I get you some tea?"

It would have been endearing—if he wasn't naked and clinging to the sheets. Dizzy, while Suguru took a shower.

You should have been jealous.

Instead, you smiled.

He splutters. "I—uh."

Wafting a hand, you crooned. "Oh come now, no need to be shy. You're Geto-Sama's dear friend."

Ouch.

The glint in your eye said you knew how sharp the word was. "It is my duty to take care of you as I would him."

What a little actress.

You must be aware of how pretty you are. How you have his Suguru wrapped around your sly finger. Offering him tea when you snatched his one and only.

Six months. Six months of Satoru, essentially, being the other woman.

Today, he chooses arrogance. Time to show Suguru there's a reason he keeps crawling back to him—not the other way around. Ten years addicted to one another and some pretty girl thinks she can trot on in and steal his man's heart? Psh.

Bad mission, bothersome higher-ups, perfect boil to wind Satoru up tight. Needing relief, needing to feel. Anything but the pulse in his veins and the thrum in his eyes.

He enters Suguru's room. Expects him sprawled across the bed, basking in the moonlight like he owed it. What he finds?

You.

Sitting at the vanity, smoothing night creams into your face. Your smile gleams the mirror. "Gojo-San, good evening."

"Where's Suguru?" No patience for your fanfare today. Hands balled in his pockets, his eyes twitch behind white bandages.

"He's out on business," rubbing excess product to your hands, you stand. Is that Suguru's robe draping around you? "Why?"

Satoru grits his teeth. "He said he'd be here—"

"Oh, now isn't that a shame?"

"What's your problem?"

Cursed energy crackles on every word. Shoulders wrung, jaw tight. Who do you think you are? Prancing around in Suguru's room—in his clothes. Smiling like his ring is already on your finger.

You pout, step closer. "You don't like me very much, do you, Gojo-San?"

"That obvious? And stop calling me that."

"Oh? Would you prefer Sa-to-ru?"

Shivers down his spine. Damnit. No wonder Suguru ditches him for you.

The anger preens. Hot in his centre and scathing at his head. Every word you speak, every step, only drills the nail into the coffin—you're his replacement. Suguru wants you more.

Fuck it.

His hand snaps out. Snatches your hair. You're dragged in despite your yelp—crushed into his tense, pulsing body.

"Fine." He pulls the bandages with his free hand, white strands shadow his glare.

"Guess you'll make up for it."

Your hands shoot to his chest, still smiling. He'd have to fix that. "Oh? What's all this, Satoru?"

He cuts your giggle short with a twist of his hand, straining your neck. Your glossy lips part. Good. There's better things to use that sweet mouth of yours for.

"You said it yourself, it's your duty to take care of me as you would your Geto-Sama." His smile slithers. Creeping on your ear with filthy promise as he looms over you.

"So get on your knees and suck my cock already."

Your knees hit the floor in devotion.

Satoru knows a good slut when he sees one—takes on to know one. You prove it with eager fingers unzipping and ripping. Dragging his dark pants to his thighs. With sparkling eyes and that same, siren smile as his heavy cock slaps over your face.

"What's that smile for, huh?" He fists himself, pressing hot veins into your cheek.

His response: a giggle. Knees flushed together and those doe eyes batting. A kiss laid on his dick's underside. "Hm?"

Twitch. Oh, you're good.

Grinning, he smacks your face with his leaky tip. Smears pre from your cheekbone to plush lips. "Ah, a brat. Fine by me."

The hand in your hair vices. His voice rough amusement.

"Guess I'll just have to fuck it off that pretty face, sweetheart."

It only took one round to realise why Suguru's been brushing him off for you.

Doe eyes puffy, lashes soaked. You're all spit, and tears, and cum dripping down your jaw, to your breasts revealed by that cheeky robe now tousled. Throat swollen with him. Taking him all the way with every shmack! of his balls to your chin.

Gurgling, gagging, but still gleaming.

Satoru's fingers dig your scalp. Twisting your hair with each squish of his tip against the back of your throat. Breath frantic. Eyes frenzied. He fucks your face in reckless arrogance. Grunting when you hollow your cheeks and swallow.

"Yeaahh, fuck, that's it pretty girl." Sweat wets his brows. Head hunching as he steers his hip harder—faster. Chasing the silk sensation of your eager mouth. He jerks you forward. Halts.

You look up at him like he's a god. With your nose stuffed in his white happy trail and your mouth obsessing his cock.

"Yeah?" His grin purrs. "Is it that fun? Choking on my dick?"

Sweet little you, trying to nod while he's got your throat plugged up. No wonder you're Suguru's favourite.