𓂃 toxic ex satoru fucking you on your wedding day.
implied cheating. public humiliation. relationship destruction. wall sex. hair pulling. toxic ex dynamic.
its your wedding day, hours from vows, yet the joy’s tainted when you glanced in the mirror and see him. satoru gojo, leaning against the doorframe. your toxic ex, the one you dumped years ago when his possessiveness, his need to control every move you made became too much.
he’s here, uninvited, in your private moment, and your stomach twisted. “fuck are you doing here, satoru?” you growl setting the fan down with a clatter, turning to face him, your hands balled into fists, he raises his hands mocking innocence.
“damn, i can’t visit the bride now?” he muttured stepping closer, his long frame casual but predatory. “thought you’d miss me, sweetheart.” you furrowed. “leave.” you snap, your voice low, serious, pointing at the door. “i don’t want you here.”
“leave?” he says feigning hurt, taking another step, his boots clicking on the floor. “im your guest.” his eyes flick over you, lingering on your dress, your bare shoulders, and you gulp. that old pull you swore you’d broken free from.
“you’re not my fucking guest.” you hiss, stepping back, your back brushing the vanity, your heart racing. “you’re here to mess with me, and im not letting that happen.” he tilts his head, shades slipping down, revealing those piercing blue eyes.
“mess with you?” he says, his voice softer, dangerous, closing the distance until he’s inches away, towering over you. “i just wanted to see you, one last time, all dressed up like this.”
you should have shouted, screamed at him, hit him, but the pull was unbearable, you still needed him. and now, it was too late.
he groans, his voice raw, lifting you onto the vanity, your dress bunching up, his hands sliding up your thighs, rough and needy. “satoru..” you gasp, your voice breaking as he pushes your dress higher, his fingers finding your panties, tugging them aside. “we shouldn’t—fuck...” you moan, his fingers brushing your clit, making you arch into him.
“tell me to stop.” he says his voice strained, pausing, his fingers hovering, giving you an out. “say it, and im gone.” you don’t say it, can’t, your hands pulling him closer, your lips on his neck, biting hard. “do it..” you mutter, your voice desperate.
“but make it quick.” he groans, low and raw, unbuttoning his pants, freeing his cock hard and thick, already leaking and lines up, thrusting into you in one deep, rough stroke, making you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders.
“fuck, still so tight for me.” he growls, his voice breaking, his hips slamming into you, the vanity shaking, bottles clattering to the floor. “satoru, shit!” you moan, your legs wrapping around him, pulling him deeper, your body betraying you.
he grips your hips, thrusting hard, fast, each stroke hitting that spot that makes you see stars, your moans loud, reckless.
“you’re mine.” he mutters his hand tangling in your hair, pulling your head back, making you gasp. “always fuckin’ mine, no matter who you marry.”
you whined pulling his hair back and he groaned thrusting deeper, his hand sliding to your clit, circling fast, relentless. “cum for me, sweetheart. show me you still want this.”. “cum for me, sweetheart. show me you still want this.”
“fuck, satoru!” you cry your orgasm hitting, your body shaking, clenching tight around him, pleasure crashing through you, he groans, loud and raw, cumming with you, spilling inside, his hips stuttering, his face buried in your neck, panting.
you’re both still, breathless, the room quiet except for your gasps, the reality of what you’ve done sinking in.
your white dress feels heavy, stained with the memory of his hands hours ago in the bridal suite. you push it down, your heart pounding, as the officiant’s words blur, leading to the moment you’ve been dreading and craving. the kiss to seal your vows.
your husband leans in, smiling, and you force a smile, your lips trembling, inches from his, then, a sharp crackle cuts through the air, the big screen behind the altar flickering to life.
gasps ripple through the crowd, and your stomach drops, a sick premonition hitting as you turn. there, on the massive screen, is you moaning, legs wrapped around gojo, his hair unmistakable, his cock thrusting into you, the vanity shaking, your voice crying.
“satoru, fuck!” the audio’s loud, obscene, your face clear, flushed with pleasure, his hands gripping your hips. its the moment from hours ago, when you gave in, let him fuck you one last time, thinking it was private, a mistake you could bury.
“no...” you whisper, your voice breaking, stepping back, your hands shaking, the veil slipping from your hair, your husband freezes, his face paling, eyes wide as he stares at the screen, then at you, betrayal carving his features.
“what the fuck is this?!” he says trembling with shock and rage, stepping away, his hands clenched, the crowd’s murmuring, some turning away, others staring, horrified.
you feel naked, so exposed, your chest is tight and your tears are burning your eyes. “i—im sorry..” you stammer your voice small, turning to the crowd as if it could keep them away from the disgusting screen while you search for him, gojo.
he’s there at the back, leaning against a pillar, shades low, a smirk playing on his lips.
he meets your gaze, his unapologetic eyes glinting like he’s won something.
