Archive of Our Own ^beta

Satoru's birthday has been perfect since the start. Light slanting through the windows of his favorite café, your laughter spilling between bites of strawberry shortcake, your fingers brushing his as you fed him a forkful as he blushed. His birthday had always been something he brushed off, too casual about it, too quick to say it didn’t matter—but you’d made it matter.

You'd even gifted him the latest volumes of his favourite manga and even a new telescope for him to fiddle with, had just watched with a fond smile as he gushed over it, rambling about the sleek lenses and polished metal. The day had wound down slowly, frosting still sweet on his lips and your laughter making his heart squeeze as you walked back to his dorm together.

Now he's sat on the edge of his small twin bed, glasses sitting on his nose, fingers drumming Mozart against his thighs, wondering what else you could possibly surprise him with. He hears you shuffle about in the bathroom, and when the door creaks back open, your voice floats through the small dorm soft and sweet.

“Open your eyes, Toru,” you say softly.

Satoru obeys, eyes fluttering open. Then his breath stops.

The light behind you frames you in soft amber, standing there looking like an angel. A dirty, lewd, every-wet-dream-he's-ever-had-combined level angel. You’re wearing white lace—delicate and sheer, the soft shimmer of the fabric catching the light. The panties are high-cut and dainty, a little bow at the front, and the slit between your thighs leaves you bare, the soft lace framing the slick heat of you. His throat works hard as he swallows, chest rising with a shudder.

“Holy shit,” Satoru whispers, and his voice breaks around the words. His cheeks flush hot, his throat bobbing as his eyes drag up and down your body.

“You—holy shit," he croaks out, voice cracking as you come closer.

“Like it?” you murmur, stepping toward him, the faintest sway to your hips that has his breath catching again. The movement makes the light ripple over the lace, over the soft gleam of your skin.

"I-Fuck, yes," he whimpers weakly. "Yes I like it—I can't— I can't believe—"

You smile then, small and teasing and his cock twitches against his jeans, the denim uncomfortably tight. "I told you I had a surprise, for you" you murmur.

"But you—You already got me the-the manga and the telescope—" he stammers, flushing even harder.
You lean down, breath brushing over his lips, taking his hand. "Yeah, but tonight, your present," you murmur as you guide his hand between your thighs. "Is this pussy." Satoru lets out a strangled whine as you make him cup your bare cunt, slick, soft, framed in lace.

"You want that?" you whisper and he nods rushed, eyes wide behind his thin frames, heart thumping beneath his ribs.

"Yes—Yes please I want it," he whimpers, voice cracking.

You grin, wicked and pleased. "Then lose the pants."

What follows is a blur of clumsy movements—Satoru tripping over himself to strip, tugging his shirt over his head, kicking his jeans aside. Once he's naked he crawls his way to your body, where you're laying back on his sheets, the white lace hugging your tits, dewy lights pooling in the soft curves of your body, and he bites his bottom lip, flushed and hard already.

"C'mere birthday boy," you murmur and he whimpers as he crawls forward. Then, slowly, deliberately you let your thighs fall open, and he gets to see the way your crotchless panties frame your slick, soft cunt. He whimpers at the sight, hands slipping to your thighs, widening you up even more for his greedy eyes, chest rising and falling, lips parted as he pants.

“F-fuck,” Satoru breathes out, “You’re—oh god—They're crotchless,” he whines, the sound caught between need and desperation. His fingers flex against your thighs, drinking in the sight of your pussy framed in lace.

"Well I wanted them to be able to stay on, make it all pretty for you when you play with me," you murmur and he whimpers, biting down on his bottom lip harder.

"Pretty, isn't it, Toru?" you murmur, as your fingers reach down and slide over your slick soft cunt, spreading your folds open, making his cock throb and leak and you notice.

"Pretty, so pretty," he agrees rushed, nodding frantically as you touch yourself.

"You wanna feel it?" you coo softly and he whimpers pathetically in response with a desperate nod.

"C'mere baby, put your mouth on me," you murmur and he can't help himself, scrambling forward like a needy pup. He swallows as you spread your legs wider for him to go in between, mouths down your stomach, lips brushing lace and then you’re so close he can smell you—breathes in deep, lashes fluttering as he whimpers low at the smell of you flooding his brain, like your body wash and natural musk is clouding his mind, his cock twitching against his stomach, leaking already. Your lips twitch into a smile above him, and you stroke through his snowy locks, gently dragging your fingers through the silky strands.

“Go on, kiss it,” you coax softly.

Satoru swallows at that, stomach twisting into knots, cock twitching and he obeys mindlessly, lips brushing over the soft lace trim around your cunt. His lips drag over it, just barely tasting you where it’s soaking through the thin fabric, breath hot and soft against your pussy as he kisses around it. And then slowly, Satoru inches forward and you watch with half lidded eyes as his lips connect with your pussy. It’s slow, filthy and he moans softly into your slick cunt at the feel. He kisses it slow, opens his mouth, kisses harder like it’s your mouth and your stomach twists at the lewd sight of your pretty nerdy boyfriend making out with your cunt.

“Fuck, Satoru,” you breathe and he moans softly in response and you feel it against your cunt, vibrating through you as he kisses deeper, and then his tongue slips out and he licks into you and you moan at the feeling. His tongue drags through you slow, filthy, and he whimpers into your cunt, kisses your pussy harder, mouths at it, suckles at your clit.

“Shit—Shit Toru—“ you gasp, hand tightening in his hair, pulling just enough to give him a kiss of pain that makes him moan louder, higher, needier as he mouths and laps at your cunt like a needy little thing. He drags his lips to your clit, licks and rubs and even spits over it, before sealing his mouth back over the swollen bundle of nerves, making you arch and gasp. He chases each out—each moan, each bend to your spine, each pull in his hair, chases it like it’s the only thing he wants, the only thing he cares about.

“Thank you—Thank you baby—Thank you for this pussy—“ he mumbles and moans against your cunt as he licks and laps, rubbing his tongue over your clit, burying his face deeper like he wants to be suffocated by your pussy and he’d die happy.

“Satoru—Fuck—I’m gonna—“ you gasp and he just moans and lets you hold his face there as you cum all over it. He takes each wet spurt gratefully, mouth hanging open, tongue out, letting you make a mess. And with each messy pulse and spurt, Satoru takes it like it’s what he’s been searching for his whole life.
You collapse back in the sheets and he moans, laps you up from your thighs and where your cum is dribbling down your pussy, tongue dragging up your stomach, up your chest.

“I love you—I love you—“ he mumbles as he goes, laps over where your nipples are hard and straining against the lace of your bra, tugs down the fabric, and moans as your heavy tits spill out, hungry mouth latching onto your nipples. “Love you—Love you so much—“ he mumbles and moans muffled as he sucks on your nipples,eyes shut like he’s in heaven as he suckles and licks at your tits.

“Shit—Toru—“ you moan at his hungry, needy mouth, the way his tongue drags and licks, his lips suck and press to the soft skin of your tits as his fingers wrap around his flushed cock to slowly press it to your messy pussy still hugged by lace. He's thick, pulsing, already leaking all over you with the first roll of his hips, dragging against your pussy through the open lace. You moan softly at the feeling, thighs spread open as he slowly grinds against your pussy.

“Fuck—can’t—oh fuck—” he gasps against your tits, hands tightening at your waist as he ruts down against your cunt, each roll of his hips needy and clumsy. “You feel so good—so fucking good—”

Satoru’s head tips back, throat working as he moans. He looks delicious like this, flushed, panting, humping himself stupid on your pussy, head rolled back, lips parted on whimpers and gasps as he rocks.

You tug him down to kiss him. It’s messy—his lips wet and desperate, his tongue clumsy against yours, the sound of both your breaths filling the room. His hand slides up to cup your jaw, thumb trembling as it brushes your cheek.

“I don’t—don’t deserve you,” Satoru breathes against your mouth, and you can feel the sincerity trembling in his voice, that shy, broken edge that always comes out when he’s like this—when you’ve got him undone and sweet and so far gone.

“Course you do baby,” you say soft, breathless from your own orgasm, sweet, and he whimpers into your mouth at the words as he drags his cock through your folds, his precum dribbling down to mix with it.

“Say it back to me,” you whisper and his stomach flips. He whimpers into your mouth, hot and needy.

“I—I can’t—“ he whines but you just coo at him softly, kiss down his jaw, stroke his messy white hair.

“You can. Try for me baby, say it to me. Say you deserve this,” you whisper softly into his ear and his teeth sink into his bottom lip as he tries to stifle the moan that threatens to spill out at your soft coaxing words.

“I—“ Satoru choked out as his cock drags against your slick cunt, hot and wet and so fucking good. “I deserve this—“ he whimpers, voice choked.

“Good boy,” you croon and Satoru whispers, buries his face into your throat as he pants and whimpers as he rocks against you needily.

“You deserve this all baby,” you coo sweetly.

Your eyes flick down to where he’s pressed against you and the sight is obscene—his cock thick and flushed, sliding through the soft lace, his cum-slick head catching against your clit. The delicate white fabric is soaked through, clinging to your skin, the perfect frame for the filthy act.

“You deserve to feel good. Deserve to let that smart little brain go quiet for a bit, yeah?” you whisper and he just chokes on a whimper and nods into your throat, voice breaking into a whine when he sees it too, the sound breaking high in his throat.

“Y/n—Y/n I can’t—Cant hold it—fuck,” he whimpers, voice cracking as his hips stutter.

“Don’t hold it in,” you whisper sweetly. “Cum all over your present, Toru.”

And just like that Satoru’s release hits hard, a strangled cry caught between his teeth as he paints your pussy with streaks of white, leaking and twitching, his breath ragged. He’s panting when he looks back up at you, eyes glassy, pressing his mouth to yours with a needy moan.

You whisper, voice breathless and soft against his mouth, “Put it in me, Toru.”

Satoru whimpers like he can’t not obey. His hand trembles as he guides himself to your slick entrance, pressing the head against your soaked folds before pushing in. The squelch is filthy and wet in the quiet room, the white lace prettily framing the lewd sight of your cunt stretching around his thick cock as he sinks in, cum and slick dribbling down your swollen pussy.

He gasps—sharp and broken—as he bottoms out, his hands flying to your hips, eyes rolling back for a second. “Oh fuck, oh fuck—”

Your name spills out of him like a prayer, and then he’s moving, hips rolling up and into you in short, hungry thrusts. The lace of your panties rubs against your skin, the soft white fabric brushing where it’s stretched around his cock. Your tits bounce with each sharp motion, the white bralette hugging them tight, and he can’t stop staring.
Satoru leans forward, mouth catching one of your nipples through the lace, sucking and groaning when you arch against him. His breath is hot, wet, desperate against your skin.

“You’re so—hngh—so pretty,” Satoru pants, voice cracking as he thrusts harder, faster, lost in the rhythm of it, in you. His hair is plastered to his forehead, his glasses crooked, and all he can do is cling to you like he’ll come apart if he lets go.
He's frantic and gasping, kissing you as he ruts into you, cock dragging against your walls. One of his hands gropes blindly down between you, fingers fumbling until they find your thigh, grasping it tight as he hikes it up, pushing your leg open wider so he can drive himself in deeper, deeper, until you’re gasping into his mouth.

"Toru—" you gasp into his mouth and he whines back, fucking into you desperately, fingers digging into the softness of your thigh, hiking it up higher as he rolls his hips desperately, cock throbbing in you, driving into you deep. Your cunt stretches around him, yours and his moans bouncing off the walls, with the squelch of your cunt each time he sinks in, the slick mess of his cum already inside you making everything slipperier, filthier.

"Toru—Toru hngh—" your hands scrabble at his hair, his shoulders, his back, nails digging in as the bed springs creaking, headboard rattling as he pounds into you, gasping against your mouth, shoving your thigh up higher as he speeds up, frantic.

"Fuck—Fuck—Fuck—" he whines into your mouth. He’s chasing it now, chasing the feeling of your slick heat clutching him tight, the way your pussy hugs him each time he pulls out and slams back in.

"I can't—" And the second your tugging at his hair, crying out his name as your pussy clamps around him and you're pushed over the edges, cumming on his cock, his eyes roll back, hips stuttering as he whines, voice breaking.

"Oh—" Satoru's cock pulses inside you, thick white spurts spilling into you, painting your walls, endless as he rolls his hips through it, cumming endlessly until it's leaking out of you, around his cock. He pants against your mouth, rocking in shallow, needy rolls of his hips dragging every last spurt out even though he's practically stuffed you full of his cum, filling you until it’s leaking around the base of his cock.

"Fuck," he mumbles weakly against your mouth, cock twitching, seated deep inside the snug heat of your cunt, milked and spent. "That was—That was—" he pants softly, glasses crooked, panting into your mouth.

"Good?" you laugh breathlessly, panting for breath too, arms looped around his neck lazily, flushed sweaty skin pressed to his.

"Amazing," he breathes against your mouth. "Best birthday gift I've ever gotten."