When Lust turns to Love

When you turn into his

Tags: Breeding Kink, Daddy Kink, Multiple Orgasms (not yours), loss of virginity (yours), Praise Kink, Piss Kink, Older Woman/Younger Man (Your 18, he's 17), gangster kink, slutshaming, dubious consent (in the fact that there is none), lactation kink, mommy kink, redemption arc in the second half, stockholm syndrome, hint of eugenics, possessiveness kink, half pint of misogyny.

Gojo Satoru is the most popular boy in school. He's got teachers bowing down at his feet, the student body bending at their knees, and the principal is rumored to be his father. To summarize-he has it all.

You're not his friend. He's a grade below you, and you've never interacted with him before. He's arrogant, cocky, every single word in the dictionary that pertains to the overinflation of ego, and you don't like him. At all. Your friends don't like him, either, they're scared of him.

But the girls like him, some of the guys, too. Rumor has it, he's got a decent dick, and hips that can use them. His best friend, Geto Suguru, is his fuck buddy, and they've been together for years now. No one tells them they're too loud, even when they having sex in the gym shed. The teachers are just that scared of him.

So it's a wonder why you're in the closet with him now.

"Hey," he says, smiling smugly.

"Get off me you fucking creep," you say. You can feel his leg in between your pale, plump thighs. He's a weirdo, a loser, you don't care if everyone else is terrified of his power, his family; you hate him, you're whole body burns with hatred, he's an asshole. But he's also good at sex, and with the look in his eyes, you know one thing-he wants it, no questions asked.

You don't give it to him, though.

"Watch your fucking leg!" You hiss like a snake. "Don't touch me with your dirty hands!"

"What'd you say to me?" He growls, teeth showing within the constraints of the light. Unfortunately for you, his eyes, translucent blue orbs that shine in the shadows of the closet, are beautiful like no other. When he looks at you, your thighs shiver. You don't tell him that, though. "No one can talk to me like that!"

"Well, get used to it. I don't care if you're some big mean baddie, like in one of those fairytales my mom used to tell me about before she died," you grunt. "I won't let you do what you did to the other students, I'll fight you by myself if I have to!"

You try to step on his shoes, but your too weak to.

"What, shrimp like you gonna fight me?" He laughs, and then he clutches your wrists in his grapes. His grip is strong, super strong, like a viper in a den waiting for prey to slither in. Youre pray, a rabbit, a wounded fawn, ready to be strangled and mangled and twisted in all the wrong ways. "You're so weak, you're not even worth being my enemy."

You don't like that. You don't like that at all.

"I," He says, bearing his white, pearly teeth, "Am Gojo Satoru, a killer in the flesh. The Dragon of the East, the one to end your little...independent streak."

"W-Why-" You whimper. You've had your independence all your life. After your mom died, it was the only thing you had. Your father left you, and your grandparents were abusive. Some weeks, you were living in cardboard boxes, eating scraps from the local WacDonalds and begging for money at the ripe age of twelve. "Take whatever you want from me, but don't...don't take my independence."

He smirks, that awful, low-hanging smirk that makes him look like a demon. He leans closer to you, so close in fact that you share the same air, the same breath, the same scent. He smells like...fuck, he smells like motor oil. Blood and cement and all the things a gangster would smell like.