🍓tags: nsfw, aged up neteyam (obviously), jealousy, alien cultural misunderstandings, oral sex (f receiving) vaginal sex, size kink, voyeurism, brief na'vi oc x reader, mentions of reader sleeping with other na'vi men
masterlist
reblogs are always enormously appreciated!
notes: adult neteyam art created by the incredibly talented @cinetrix, whose work motivated me to write for adult neteyam in the first place!!
It was just a fluke, you tell yourself. A moment of weirdness that had come about because… because…
Okay, so you can’t really explain it.
You don’t like Neteyam! You never have! The sight of him appearing while you’re mid-rendezvous with Txetyo (the same man he had interrupted you with only a few days before!) should have sent you into an angry tailspin. And yet, you can’t forget the pulse of excitement that had throbbed low in your belly when you realised that he was standing there watching you.
Really, you should have been the one to speak up. But it was like your brain had switched off, like all your rational thoughts had gone on a temporary leave of absence; why else would you have stayed silent instead of stopping Txetyo and drawing attention to Neteyam’s presence?
Just like after your last confusing encounter with Neteyam in the healing hut, you end up sticking close to the human outpost for the next week.
It’s probably a little cowardly to hide instead of facing your problems head on, but you don’t care. You avoid Neteyam, you avoid Txetyo, you avoid any of the guys you’ve had flings with before because even the sight of them reminds you of what had happened that night in the forest. Inevitably, that leads to you avoiding the village entirely.
The outpost is as boring as ever, but it’s better than facing the mortification that’s no doubt awaiting you in the village. But at the very least, it’s not lonely.
Spider is kind enough to keep you company in the outpost for the first few days, though you quickly wish he wouldn’t. There’s not much to do, and Spider never deals well with boredom.
“Quit that.” You grit out, your eyes sliding sideways.
Spider is sitting next to you, drumming his fingers insistently on his thighs. He sighs, rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling and leaning back on the lumpy couch you’re both sprawled on.
“This is mind-numbing.” He complains, throwing his dirty bare feet over your thighs. “It’s so boring here. I don’t think I’ve ever spent this much time inside in my whole life.”
“You don’t have to be here.” You remind him, shoving his feet off you.
Spider sighs, swinging his legs back to the ground so he can sit up properly. “Right, sure. I could leave you here alone to mope all day by yourself in your dank little bedroom. Or you could tell me what’s going on with you.”
You grumble, and avert your eyes. Okay, so maybe your avoidance has been a little more obvious than you had intended. You’ve barely missed a day in the village your whole life, and yet in the last two weeks you’ve spent most of your time hiding out in the outpost.
“Nothing’s going on.” You say, and it rings hollow even to your own ears.
Spider purses his lips. He seems pointedly unconvinced, and stretches back on the couch with his arms across the back of the headrest.
“So it has nothing to do with whatever the hell happened when you went off with Txetyo during the hunt celebrations?”
You almost wince, but manage to keep your expression neutral as you stare at your knees. “Nope.”
Spider hums. “And I suppose the fact that Neteyam very conspicuously disappeared into the forest about ten seconds after you left is also unrelated.”
That cracks your composure, and you take a shaky breath as you glance sideways at Spider’s face. He doesn’t look like he’s judging you or anything; he’s just waiting patiently for your answer, a single eyebrow raised.
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You mutter, avoiding his eyes.
There’s a long pause, and then Spider huffs out a sigh and tilts his head back to stare at the water-stained ceiling up above you. You feel a little bad about keeping secrets from him; usually you and Spider act as each other’s confidants by virtue of the fact that the two of you are humans the same age amongst all the Na’vi. But this whole mess with Neteyam is something that you’re struggling to wrap your own head around – you don’t want to start explaining the whole mortifying ordeal to someone who was as good as your brother.
“Lo’ak’ll get it out of you.” Spider says confidently.
You groan, covering your face with your hands. “Please tell me he’s not coming over.”
“He’s worried.” Spider protests. “You’ve been acting super weird, dude.”
“He’s nosey.” You correct.
Spider shrugs, unable to argue that point. “Well, whatever.”
It’s as if speaking his name summons him, because the shoddy linoleum floor creaks behind you as a big nine-feet-tall body steps into the room. You catch a glimpse of bright blue skin out of the corner of your eye and groan, tipping your head back against the back of the couch and closing your eyes.
“Seriously, I am not in the mood to be interrogated by the Idiot Brigade today.” You complain. “Can’t you come back and bother me another time?”
There’s a pause. And then, a low voice filled with amusement says, “Am I a member of this “idiot brigade?”
That is not Lo’ak’s voice.
For a moment, you don’t even turn around. You just breathe slowly, your eyes shut tight. Maybe if you don’t turn and look, Neteyam will just vanish from your presence as if he had never spoken at all.
But instead of Neteyam’s spontaneous disappearance, you get Spider shifting on the lumpy couch beside you before climbing to his feet. Your eyes shoot open at that, and your head whips around to stare at him in disbelief.
“Where are you going?” You hiss, already reaching out after him.
Spider stops, hesitates, his eyes flicking between you and Neteyam. He looks as though he would rather be literally anywhere other than here; you know the feeling.
“Uh… I’m gonna go find Lo’ak.” Spider mutters, his eyes darting around cagily. “Seems like you two probably need time to talk some things out.”
Before you can even protest that, Neteyam is stepping forward, marching his way around the couch. You sit up, properly startled now, realising that your window for escape is rapidly narrowing.
“Tell Lo’ak not to come.” Neteyam says simply, stepping nimbly around the couch so that he’s in front of you. It’s like he knows that you were thinking of an escape, because he tilts his head as a subtle smile tugs at his mouth.
“Yeah. Got it.” Spider sounds a little strangled, sending you a look that you can’t quite decipher before turning and scampering out the door, letting it slide shut behind him with a quiet thud.
You stare at him for a long moment, your mouth hanging open like a moron. Neteyam just stares back, his expression even, as though he’s waiting for you to speak first.
You swallow thickly, then push yourself up so that you’re standing. It’s a weak attempt to put yourself on a more even level with him, but it fails as you find yourself eye-level with his damn belly button.
“What are you doing here?” You snap, though it comes out a little weaker than you had intended.
Neteyam doesn’t answer immediately. Instead he gingerly lowers himself down onto the ancient lumpy couch that you and Spider had commandeered for yourselves from the desolate wreckage of Bridgehead. He’s almost comically large for it, his knees bent awkwardly up as he settles back, the springs creaking ominously.
“You have been avoiding the village.” He says simply.
And… oh god, you can’t stop staring. It’s stupid, because you’ve known Neteyam your whole life, you know what he looks like. But it’s like your eyes are taking him in differently now. You hadn’t spent much time with him as kids; you were always chasing after Lo’ak, Kiri, and Spider, and Neteyam usually maintained a distance as he trained under the guidance of his parents. And then he was gone, departed for the reef villages, only to return after the worst of the war years had passed.
But it’s different now. He’s a man, his shoulders broader than ever and his muscles more defined than is typical of the Omaticaya warriors – no doubt thanks to his time in the reefs with the bulkier Metkayina.
Your mouth is a little dry; it’s not a good time to be reminded that you find big, muscly Na’vi men really, really attractive.
“Yeah.” You say, your voice scratchy. “Uh… I’ve been busy.”
Neteyam’s hairless brow raises in an unspoken gesture of doubt as he leans back into the couch. Your eyes dart down nervously over his abdomen. Each sculpted abdominal muscle speaks of his physical prowess and the sheer discipline and dedication to his training, and his slim waist is accentuated by the woven battle band around his waist. Fuck, you want to touch his belly.
You can hardly believe that you had this man’s cock in your hand, or that he had been grunting and fucking your fist. Maybe you had hallucinated that. Looking at him like this, taking in his big amber eyes and strong jawline and high cheekbones, you’re reminded rather harshly of just why he’s one of the most sought-after men in the village by the unmated Omaticaya girls. It seems unlikely that he’d ever lower himself to allow himself to be touched by you.
And yet, you know you hadn’t hallucinated him standing only mere feet from you in the forest, watching intently as Txetyo had railed you into the mossy ground.
As if he knows what you’re thinking, Neteyam speaks again. “Avoiding Txetyo? I do not blame you.
You almost choke at that. Good lord, the audacity of this man. He knows perfectly well that you’ve also been trying to avoid him, judging by the smug look on his face.
“No! He- he wasn’t so bad.” You protest, though the words ring unconvincingly in your own ears.
“Tawtute, you’re so tight!” Neteyam gasps mockingly, lowering his voice into a dude-bro register that decidedly does not sound like Txetyo. “Fuck, you’re so wet, I’m gonna cum—"
You squawk, hastily stepping forward to swat ineffectually at his shoulder. “Will you shut up, that’s not what–“
Neteyam grabs at your wrist when you smack his shoulders, his long fingers wrapping all the way around you before tugging. You stagger, pulled off balance as he tugs you onto the couch beside him. You end up with your limbs in an ungainly sprawl as you attempt to collect yourself beside him, flustered behind belief. He doesn’t let go of your wrist.
“And he– he made me finish, so.” You say lamely. You’re sitting next to him. Why are you sitting next to him? You should be trying to shove him up off the couch and shoo him out the door.
“I’m pretty sure you made yourself come.” Neteyam corrects, his head tilting. His glossy braids spill over his shoulders, colourful beads clicking together. “Which wouldn’t have happened if I wasn’t there, by the way.”
“Excuse me?”
“Just pointing out the obvious.” Neteyam’s smug little grin is growing, and he leans in a little closer. “I don’t think you were enjoying it at all until I showed up.”
You gape at him, stunned.
“I- you-!” You stammer, your breath catching from the sheer swell of your indignation. Who does he think he is, showing up here all muscled and gorgeous like this only to embarrass you?
“Speak for yourself!” You finally manage to splutter, trying to sit up on the couch; Neteyam’s grip on your wrist prevents you from going too far, so you give up and resign yourself to being stuck beside him until he grows bored of tormenting you. “Txetyo was– That was pretty much par for the course. I mean– it wasn’t unusual, sometimes that’s just how sex goes–“
Neteyam sits up straight, so suddenly that it startles you. His brow is furrowed, his eyes flicking rapidly over your face as though he’s trying to assess if you’re being honest.
He’s… he’s leaning in rather close to you. You blink at him, but don’t move back. It’s so rare for you to be around Neteyam without your respirator mask acting like a shield over your face, and you feel a little naked now without it.
“That was a standard experience for you?” He asks, and his voice has… changed a little. That smug amusement on his face has vanished, replaced with what looks like bewilderment.
You scoff at his surprise, rolling your eyes. “Shouldn’t you know what my standard experience is? You’ve interrupted enough of them.”
He doesn’t respond to your snarky remark. He just stares at you as if he’s examining you, and you shift awkwardly on the couch, unsure in the face of his scrutiny.
“What, you’re surprised that all men aren’t sex gods?” You ask a little testily. “They want to experiment with a Sky Person, and I like sex with Na’vi men, so… win-win.”
Neteyam just frowns, pulling back a little. “No, that’s not… I don’t understand. Why do you spend time with them if they are not successful in pleasuring you?”
Boy, is that a loaded question. You don’t want to explain to Neteyam that it’s not really about sex, that it’s more about a pathological need for physical connection and comfort, especially when you try your very hardest not to think about it yourself.
“Maybe I’m just hoping one of them will really impress me.” You mumble, a little sourly. “I guess I’ll keep holding out hope.”
Neteyam’s ears flatten, pressing low against his head as his eyes widen a little. He shifts, his body looming over you like a big blue behemoth as the couch springs squeal beneath his weight.
“I could.” He says. “Impress you, I mean.”
You snort, glancing up at him with a wry sort of smile that falls off your face almost immediately when you see the look on Neteyam’s face. His expression is perfectly earnest, his jaw set and his pupils dilated with an odd sort of urgency that you’ve never seen from him. He… he doesn’t look as though he’s making fun of you at all.
“What?” You croak, blinking.
And then you realise what all this about. Neteyam is always so determined to prove himself, to be the best at everything. He’s always pushed himself beyond his limits and worked himself to the bone to be stronger and faster and wiser, to be a better leader and a better hunter and a better fighter. You probably shouldn’t even be surprised that now he’s decided to prove that he’s better than his peers at fucking you, too.
“This is just a competition for you, isn’t it?” You scoff, yanking your wrist out of his hand. He shifts forward on the couch then as though preparing to catch you if you move to run, but you’re not making any move to leave.
“No. They are not worthy competitors.” Neteyam scoffs as if the question is absurd. “This is to prove to you that you have been wasting your time with men who are not capable of pleasing you.”
You scoff again, but it’s a much weaker sound this time. “I–”
“You have bad taste in men, paskalin.” Neteyam murmurs, shuffling closer on the ancient couch.
You stare up at him, your breath catching a little in your chest. God, he’s so much bigger than you. You hate that it’s making your body heat up, and you feel yourself growing wet as he leans in close, smelling like fresh water and the forest.
“Are you going to let me?” Neteyam whispers, reaching out to trace a finger along your jawline. “Let me prove myself.”
You should say no. You should tell him to leave, to get out. You should absolutely not feed into his own ego by fucking him.
“Yes,” You breathe stupidly. “Okay.”
You’re expecting him to grab you immediately and flip you around onto either your back or stomach; in all your previous experiences, you’ve gotten right down to it with your partners. But to your surprise, Neteyam leans in and holds your hips with his big hands as he presses his mouth to yours in a kiss.
Kissing is not something that you’re used to; the Na’vi you’ve hooked up with have stayed clear of the human outpost, unlike the Sully kids who had paid frequent visits, which means that all of your sexual encounters have occurred in the forest or in empty corners in the village with your respirator mask firmly attached to your face.
Now your face feels naked and vulnerable, and you gasp shakily against Neteyam’s mouth when he leans in and kisses you firmly.
It’s slow and deep, at first. All-consuming. It lights a fire in your gut, which expands and spreads throughout your body.
Neteyam doesn’t just kiss with his mouth, either. He kisses with his hands, his whole body. He clutches you to him, holding you close even as the force of his kiss bends you backward, your body pressing into the raggedy couch cushions.
At the same time, it’s all you can do to concentrate and respond to the kiss itself, your attention stretched and strained by the feeling of Neteyam’s hands running over you, stroking your sides and clutching your neck and squeezing your ass.
“Hah,” You gasp out when Neteyam’s lips slide sideways to find the corner of your jaw. His mouth is hot against your skin, bruising, and you’re embarrassingly wet already, just from a little kissing.
Fuck, he’s a good kisser. That’s so annoying.
You run out of breath too fast, and you have to gasp. Neteyam breaks the kiss for barely even a second, and shifts some of his weight to his elbows as he follows you down onto the couch, nuzzling and nipping at your jaw before returning to your mouth.
There’s a hand on either side of your head during that blink-and-you-miss-it break in the kiss, but then he moves his big hands to hold onto your face like they’re afraid you’ll escape, and now they don’t want to let go at all. One of his hands cups your jaw, the other clasping around the back of your neck and tilting your head farther back, deeper into the couch, opening you up. You think about the fact that he can thread his fingers together behind your head with his palms pressed to your cheeks and nearly moan like a whore into his mouth.
Neteyam’s eagerness surprises you. The kiss is messy and graceless and airless and greedy, frantic and full of teeth, and you can only roll your hips in reflex, in mindless desperation, in a feeble attempt to buck, your mind repeating a refrain of yes holy shit holy shit YES. You can’t even squirm, because holy hot fuck Neteyam is heavy, and he’s got every inch of you covered and owned.
God, have you always been this easy? Just kiss you, feel you up a little and want you enough and you’ll end up happily whimpering under someone on the couch? Even someone like Neteyam, who you’ve been so resentful of for so long?
You spread your thighs, and Neteyam’s narrow hips slot into place like a damn puzzle piece. Neteyam hums a small laugh and pauses, pulls back an inch or so, gazing steadily at your lips and smoothing the tips of his thumbs back and forth over your cheekbones. He takes a moment to fumble with his respirator and takes a deep breath before dropping it and leaning down to kiss you again.
“Oh, fuck.” You whimper, your eyes fluttering shut when his hips roll fluidly against you.
You pull back from the kiss, just enough to get a look at his face. His eyes are a little clouded, his lips puffy and spit-slicked. He looks dazed, and there's a thin line of saliva connecting your mouths together. His brow scrunches in a frown, as though you pulling away from him is a personal offence.
Oh god, you think. I'm so fucked.
The hand that had been cupping your cheek releases you, slides down your body as well. Your breath hitches when he passes over your breasts, drags down the plush skin of your belly, before reaching in between your thighs to cup at your pussy over your clothes. His hand tightens, grabbing you. Cunt, pubic bone, the whole shebang, all of it right there in the palm of Neteyam’s shockingly big hand.
“Bedroom.” You gasp, your head spinning as he just holds your cunt over your denim shorts. “Bedroom now.”
Neteyam grins, and wraps his arms around your waist to haul you into his arms before he lifts you off the couch and practically staggers down the hall. His excitement surprises you, and you cling to his neck as he ducks his way through the corridor.
Mercifully the outpost is quiet today, with most of its human occupants out in the forest or in the village – that means there’s no one around the witness the sight of Neteyam’s enormous blue ass squeezing himself in through the small doorway of the closet-like bedroom you’d claimed for yourself, with you dangling from his arms like a doll.
You’re still breathing hard when Neteyam clumsily gets the door shut before placing you on your squeaky old bed, following you down on it. He’s careful not to crush you with the bulk of his body, instead resting his weight on his forearms where they’re planted on either side of your head.
The consideration makes something squirm in your belly, and you reach up to intertwine your fingers at the back of his head and pull him down to resume kissing him.
Neteyam rolls his hips into yours, and you can feel the thick ridge of his erection pressing into the seam of your shorts, right over your clit. The sound you make is absolutely humiliating, and you will deny ever making it until your last breath, but you twitch as you try to catch that exact same friction again.
And fuck, kissing like this may be new to you, but you never want to stop. You didn’t even know that kissing with tongue could feel so erotic; Neteyam’s hands are on your face again, angling you this way and that way and however the fuck Neteyam feels like angling you, and goddamn he must be doing it just because he can.
You try desperately to remember any little kissing tricks you’ve learned and draw a pathetic blank. Luckily, Neteyam seems intent on showing off. His creativity is more than enough to occupy you both, and you’re too busy being excruciatingly horny to really be self-conscious anyway.
Besides, your next exhale is a chest-rattling groan, and if Neteyam’s immediate grunt of approval and slow thirsty grind against your trapped body is any indication, then you're doing just fine by his standards.
But then, to your absolute distress, Neteyam pulls away.
“Hhh — Shit! Shit, hang on. Shit.” Neteyam hisses, turning his face away and levering himself up on his arms. He’s breathing hard, and the sound of the English curse words falling out of his mouth in that strained tone of voice has your thighs squeezing together pathetically.
“What?” You ask, your voice sounding dazed and stupid even to your own ears.
Neteyam huffs out a few centering breaths and then shakes out his head to clear it. He fumbles for the respirator, takes several deep gulps of air before dropping it again. He angles his hips away from you for a moment, breathing steadily.
“Why’d you stop?” You hate the way the words come out as a whine; you feel as though you’re losing your mind, as though you’re actually going to die if he doesn’t keep kissing you.
Neteyam breathes out a quiet laugh, sounding a little disbelieving as he drops his forehead down to rest on your shoulder.
“Fuck.” He whispers, but he doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he pushes himself down your body, sliding between your legs.
When he tugs your shorts, you lift your hips eagerly to help him shuck your pants off. As he’s tugging at your panties, you work on yanking your oversized pyjama shirt off you. It feels as though the two of you are descending into a frenzy, touching and kissing and tearing at each other like animals.
When you’re naked beneath him you shiver, staring up at him in eager anticipation. You wait for him to come back up and kiss you, to take his own loincloth off and stick his cock into you, but he doesn’t. Instead, his head bullies its way in between your thighs.
“No,” You whine, making a face. You don’t want him to waste time with eating you out when you’re ready now. “Just put it in.”
Neteyam shoots you a reproachful look as though he thinks you’re acting crazy. “You said you would let me please you.”
“But–” You frown, feeling a little ridiculous for having this conversation when his big head is blinking up at you from between the pudge of your thighs. “You don’t have to. I don’t enjoy getting head all that much anyway.”
But instead of changing his mind, that just makes him snort as though you’d told a damn joke.
“Let me show you, syulang.” He whispers, turning his head and brushing his lip over the soft skin of your inner thigh. He kisses you there, and then sucks a hickey-like bruise into the squidge there.
And damn, you can’t turn him down.
“Fine.” You sigh, a little irritated, and spread your legs wider so that Neteyam can muscle his way in.
He grins as if he knows something you don’t, grabs your legs and pulls them so your thighs are hanging off his big broad shoulders. You can feel his warm breath ghosting over you between your legs, and you prepare to lie back and let him lick you down there until he deems you’re wet enough to start fucking you properly.
But then he actually gets his mouth on you, and… oh. Oh.
You tilt your head back, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. That feels… better than you had expected, actually.
Each of Neteyam’s movements are calculated, precise. He laps against your clit, then closes his lips and sucks. You nearly yelp, but manage to tamp down on your reaction and merely wheeze instead. Neteyam points his tongue and presses inside of you, sucks and licks like he’s actually eating something. At one point, he even bites, and you jerk so hard that you accidentally grind against his face.
It’s not like any of the head you have ever received. You’ve enjoyed it before, sure, but it’s never felt like this, and it’s definitely never made you come. And yet, to your honest surprise, you can feel a familiar coil of tension beginning to build deep in your abdomen.
“Oh god.” You breathe, sounding a little bewildered.
You feel his tongue against your clit again, hardly noticing that his hands are gripping at your ass until he yanks you forward as he buries his whole damn face between your legs. His fingers return, delving into you, deep and searching. His mouth works against your clit and it feels like you’re being squeezed between the kinds of pleasure, worshipped and wrung out and attacked all at once.
“Neteyam,” You gasp like a fool. “Oh, what the fuck, it– Neteyam, hang on, it’s too–”
Neteyam is still devouring you, sucking hard and persistent until you cry out. You try to clench your thighs around his head as he laps at you like a man starved, but his hands are still on your thighs, locking you in an iron grip, keeping you spread wide for him, and you can hardly breath because every time you think to try and take a breath his tongue is moving over your clit again and he’s sucking against you.
Your head swims, and you wonder why on earth you had been so resistant to allow him to make you feel good like this. Fuck, have you just been getting really bad head this whole time? You didn’t even know it could feel like this.
Your heels are digging into his back, and the closer he brings you to the edge the harder your thighs clamp around his head. He barely seems to notice the force you’re exerting, merely groaning to himself everytime you squeeze tighter.
Your thoughts splinter and unravel, and you can do nothing but buck uselessly against his hold, desperately chasing more of his lips and his tongue.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” You chant, eyes squeezed shut tight as you whine.
He's just so good with his tongue, and you’ve never felt like this in your life. It feels as though you can't breathe properly, as though you’re melting from the inside out. None of those awkward, fumbling sexual encounters with those other Na’vi ever had you feeling like this.
Your breasts are heaving with the effort it takes just to breathe through the white hot pleasure crashing through you, and you stare down at him with wide eyes as he suckles again at your clit. When he sees you looking down at him, he throws you a cheeky wink as he laps at you.
You let out a helpless, gasping laugh at him, your hands clenching compulsively in his braids. Your giggle has him pulling back a little so he can look up at you properly; the grin he shoots you is extra shiny thanks to the fact that the lower half of his face is covered in his spit and your own slick, but he looks dopey and happy.
You manage one word, on a long and broken moan- “Please!”
Neteyam laughs quietly, the sound vibrating through his lips and into your pussy, but then his tongue is on your clit again, sucking you into his mouth, and you’re shattering around him as he finally pushed you over that edge you’ve been teetering on.
You keen and shake violently, spasming around Neteyam’s fingers and jerking into his mouth, coming so hard that you see black spots in your vision. Neteyam doesn’t let up, pulling broken moans out of you with tongue until you’re writhing.
You squirm and whimper until suddenly it’s too damn much, and then you’re reaching down to push at Neteyam’s neat braids to try to get away from his relentless tongue. Damn, he’s acting like he’s hungry for you, like he’d swallow you whole if he could. He doesn’t let up until you’re begging him to, albeit wordlessly — whimpering and shoving at his face, trying to arch away from the too-sensitive touch.
Finally, Neteyam relents. He lowers your legs from his shoulders and you practically crumple, going limp against your mattress. Neteyam’s face is wet and shiny, and he looks ridiculously smug. You’re still trembling, throbbing with the aftershocks.
“Mm, you sound so pretty.” Neteyam murmurs, his words coming out muffled and almost slurred as though he’s drunk.
“Fuck.” You whisper to yourself, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes as you struggle to catch your breath.
Neteyam hums, pressing kisses all over your pubic mound and lower belly. He seems so damn pleased with himself, pushing himself up your body so that he can nuzzle into your neck, pressing sweet nipping kisses to your throat.
His breathing is a little strained, and you grab blindly at the respirator hanging around his neck before bringing the mask up to his face.
“Breathe, Neteyam.” You gasp out, still a little breathless yourself.
He grunts, as though irritated over something of secondary importance, and takes a couple of deep breaths before dropping the mask again. His pupils are blown so wide that his iris is barely visible, just a thin ring of gold around a pool of black.
You laugh, panting and overwhelmed at the sight of his shiny face, and reach up to wipe his slick face with the palms of your hands. He huffs a quiet laugh of his own, turning his face towards your hands and nuzzling against you like an oversized cat.
“That was… that was better than I expected.” You say, still struggling to collect yourself.
Neteyam’s smile turns a little sly, his teeth flashing as he kisses at your palms. “Impressed?”
And you can’t help but laugh at that, feeling as though this whole situation is spinning around far beyond your wildest imagination. Fuck, he’s really giving his all to this, just to prove to you that he’s superior to the other men of the clan.
“Not yet.” You whisper, biting your lip and hoping that he takes it as the challenge/invitation you mean it to be.
And luckily he does, his smile only growing.
“I should keep going then.” He murmurs, his hands stroking up your sides.
He gently caresses both breasts, a little knead of big, rough hands that can cover much more than just one tit and you love it. Your back arches as you shiver, revelling in how bizarrely gentle he’s being with you.
“Yes,” You whisper eagerly, your legs spreading further until the muscles of your inner thighs are burning with the strain of it. “You definitely should.”
You reach out to tug at the band of his loincloth, your fingers actually trembling a little as you try to unknot it at the sides. Neteyam’s own breath hitches, and his much more nimble fingers reach to help you untie it and draw it away.
And fuck, now he’s naked too. You sit up eagerly, peering down between your bodies to try and catch a look at him properly. You may have touched him that day in the healing hut, but it’s completely different seeing him.
He’s big. So big. All the Na’vi are big when compared to you, of course, but this just… it feels different, because this is Neteyam. His cock is the same pretty blue shade as the rest of him, decorated with darker stripes and pretty glowing tanhì. Your heart thumps recklessly at sight of it twitching towards his belly, and you reach out towards it eagerly.
Your small fingers wrap around the hard length of him — he’s too thick for you to comfortably hold in one hand, but that doesn’t seem to matter because he groans appreciatively anyway when you run your fingers down his length and then back up, feeling warm and sticky precome gushing from the tip to coat your fingers.
“Ah!” Neteyam groans breathily, his hips rocking as your hand slides up the long, velvety length of him. “Fuck… so good.”
You feel like you’re burning up, your skin sweat-slick and far too hot. The weight of his cock in your hand has your head spinning; you want him inside of you, stretching you wide and fucking you deep. If he fucks as good as he eats pussy, you feel like you’re in for a very good time.
“C’mon,” You breathe, writhing a little. “You– you promised me that you’d.. That you would…”
“Mm, I promised I’d make you feel better than Txetyo ever could,” Neteyam finishes for you, leaning in to kiss your neck. “You like ‘em big and stupid, huh? That’s why they can’t please you, syulang.”
You toss your head back, your eyes fluttering shut as his sharp canines drag over the sensitive skin at the side of your throat. Fuck, maybe he’s right. None of those guys have ever made you feel this good before; you don’t think you’ve ever been this slick and eager in your whole life.
“God, you have such a big head,” You huff, quivering. “Maybe you’re big and stupid too.”
He just laughs at that, a dark chuckle that has your nerves buzzing, and leans down to nip at your shoulder hard enough to make you jerk beneath him. “I am not like Txetyo, or Art’alak, or Pewalsku, or Urtiltey.”
You scoff, before reaching up to push hard at his shoulders. You’re not actually strong enough to shift him, but he pulls back obediently, falling back to lay on his back on the bed. You rise up on your knees then, looming over him as he lays flat.
The way Neteyam is looking up at you, it’s like he’s seeing god. If he could worship you with just a look alone, he is. It’s a little overwhelming, and you feel something deep in your stomach knot just at the sight of him looking at you like that.
“Prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen.” Neteyam whispers, reaching out to grip at your hips, guiding you into straddling his lap.
You don’t think anyone has ever talked to you like this, or looked at you like this. You hardly know what to do in the face of his attention, so you revert to what you’re familiar with; you settle yourself against his lap and grind there, feeling the length of his cock glide along the seam of your cunt.
It feels as though your belly has been set alight, and you take a slow breath as you rock against him. His lips drag from the base of your throat up the length of your neck, then he nips gently at the hinge of your jaw. The softness of his breath against the sensitive skin of your throat elicits a shiver from you, and Neteyam’s hands pull you closer when he feels your reaction.
You make a soft sound against his mouth when his fingers clench tight around your hips. His hold on you encourages you to grind down against him. It's not as though you really need the encouragement, but the way his eyes darken as he stares up at you is enough motivation for you to tilt your hips and grind down just like he wants you to.
"Fuck." He breathes, his eyes going half-lidded as he tilts his head back against your bed to watch you move above him.
Heat is growing alarmingly quickly in your lower belly and at the apex of your thighs, and you tremble over Neteyam as you use your grip on his shoulders for leverage. The soft sounds of pleasure that are pulled out of his throat every time you roll yourself against him send sparks through your entire nervous system; it feels as though you just can't get close enough to him.
Your patience runs out, unable to keep up the teasing; Neteyam seems to feel much the same. When you raise yourself up, chest heaving, Neteyam grabs at his cock and holds it still to allow you to settle against it, the head notched against your entrance. He glides over the opening again, pressing in the barest amount. You can already tell it’s going to be a stretch. Neteyam is thick, and you want it in you, want to feel it pressing you open.
You clench around the head of his cock, trying to pull him in, and Neyeyam groans.
“You’re—” He starts to say, his big hands clutching at your hips. “Shit. You’re tighter than I even imagined, paskalin.”
The idea that he might have imagined this is almost more than you can take, and you surge forward to kiss him again, your mouths clashing clumsily.
“You—you thought about it?” You manage to say, your words coming out a little muffled as he sucks at your lower lip.
He just rumbles a laugh, as though your question is ridiculous, and doesn’t even bother answering. Instead he places one hand securely under your ass, the other adjusting himself—there’s a short, sharp burst of pain as you felt him start to push in, just the tip and your head is spinning. Your nails are digging into his shoulders but if he feels anything it doesn’t show.
He kisses your cheek and then pushes in a little deeper as his mouth falls to yours once more—swallowing up your sharp cry as another inch sinks into you, and you feel like you’re splitting open.
Fuck, you feel as though not grabbing lube was probably a mistake; you were too cocky, too confident in your ability to take him, so sure that he’d be as adequately satisfactory as the other Na’vi men you’ve been with.
He goes in and in and in, pressing farther into you than you even thought was possible. The stretch and the pressure inside you is glorious, so tight that you can barely even flex around him. His mouth is open, each breath escaping him quickly, and you can see your own amazement reflected back to you on Neteyam’s face.
You dig your nails into his shoulders to offset the pain radiating through your core as he shoves himself deeper into you, chased by another wave of warmth as his free hand move between you, thumb settling gently over your clit.
“Ohmygod,” You gasp, pleasure mixing with that burning ache. You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you try to rock your hips against his hand even as you try to ease the feeling of his girth inside you.
“Ungh..” Neteyam groans into you shoulder as he rocks another inch into you, until you’re sobbing and moaning by turns. “Oh. Fuck. Txetyo didn’t deserve this, syulang. Didn’t know what to do with you.”
You whimper in his grip as he just holds you there, buried to the hilt, thumb still working at your clit and sending frissons of electricity up and down your spine.
“Feels good,” You slur. “You feel good.”
Neteyam pulls out half an inch and fucks back into you from below, making your breath hitch. “Yeah?”
“So big,” You gasp. “I-I want—"
“I know, I know. I’ve got you,” Neteyam rumbles, his full lips brushing gentle kisses over your temple, right in your hairline. “Take what you want, lovely girl.”
And you do, rocking your hips and taking one of his enormous hands to pull between your legs so he can continue to rub at your clit with his fingers, so he can feel all the ways you’re leaking onto him as you lean forward to run your own hungry mouth along his collarbone, his pecs, as your hands grip his shoulders to try and lift yourself up and onto him over and over again.
It doesn’t take long for that coil in your belly to swell, sweet and hot. It’s as if Neteyam is intimately familiar with the way you want him to rub your clit, how you want it pinched but only just so between two fingers, as if he’s been taking fucking notes all those times he had walked in and interrupted you. It doesn’t take long until you’re trembling and squeezing impossibly tight around him, taut like a violin string.
It’s like Neteyam is puncturing your lungs, and every time he fucks into you, you respond with stupid sounding little ‘ah’ sounds.
“Ah, ah, ah!” You gasp, teary-eyed and desperate. Neteyam’s mouth is parted, his eyes wide. They flick over you quickly, drinking you in as you ride him.
Your movements are slow to build, but gradually you establish a steady, desperate rocking. It doesn't take long for you to realise that grinding in his lap feels better than raising yourself all the way up and down. Distantly, you feel little guilty — you know that grinding and rocking in his lap in the way that you are feels better for you than it does for Neteyam, but he doesn't seem to mind. He's watching you with a rapturous expression, his arms urging you closer so that your sweat-slicked chests are pressed close together and your foreheads are resting against each other.
You find a rhythm that both satisfies and stokes you, riding him with abandon as your thighs clench tight around his narrow hips. Neteyam’s hands slide from your hips down over your lower back, worshipful as they drift lower to clutch at your ass and use his grip there to help lift you up and down.
You ride him with mindless intent. His fingers dig at the meat of your ass, his mouth dropped softly open as he fights to keep his own breaths even — it takes a long moment for you to realise that he's fighting to keep himself still and to stop himself from thrusting wildly into you. His restraint and the realisation that he's really allowing you to have all the power in the exchange strikes you hard. You’ve never felt any real sense of agency in sexual intimacy until now, and the realisation that he's being so considerate of how you’re feeling only contributes to the intensifying of those flutters in your belly.
The rush builds in you, relentless, mounting with every jerk of your hips. There would be no catching your breath until it broke.
You rock on him, hard, hard and fast and there, there it is, that’s it — that perfect deep unfurling. A moan rises from the depths of your chest as you gasp at it, your body trembling. Neteyam just stares up at you, mouth open, eyes gone wide and dark.
The wave crests, the world explodes around you, a kaleidoscope of sensation as you come undone in his arms, trembling even as he keeps sliding home into you. You keep moving over him through the ebb of it, through the helpless little sounds that break from his throat. You’re still shuddering when he reaches up to take a firm hold of your waist. As though he can't help himself, his hips thrust up into you.
“Yes,” Neteyam hisses, his flat nose all scrunched up in a feral sort of pleasure. “That’s my girl.”
You tremble, gasp-moaning as your joints turn to jelly. Your orgasm very slowly gives way to thunderous aftershocks that rocket through your body every few seconds, shuddering your whole frame in intervals.
"Fuck," He groans, his breathing gone ragged. "I'm going to-"
He doesn't even finish his sentence before he seems to lose some of that iron control he's been exerting; his hips jolt up into you, and then again, until he's thrusting up into you with a sense of urgency that's almost breath-taking. All you can do is cling onto his hair and bury your face into the crook of his neck, attempting to muffle the embarrassing little gasping sounds that you’re making into his skin as his fucking into you prolongs the breath-taking pleasure of your orgasm.
You don’t fuss when his big hands use his grip on your ass to lift you up himself, fucking up into you and letting loose. Then he's shaking, stilling, spilling himself inside you, and you watch eagerly as his face goes slack and relaxed.
You don't go still immediately. Your hips keep rolling slow and steady as you tremble against him, chasing that feeling of molten shivery pleasure that's still burning in your belly even as it starts to turn into almost unbearable oversensitivity. It's not a fully conscious movement, as you’re moving mostly on instinct, and after a few moments Neteyam takes a hold of your hips to slow you to a stop.
He stays inside you like this for what feels like an eternity, spent and nestled deep inside you as you sit in his lap, slumped against his large strong chest.
"Oh my god," You whisper eventually as another pleasant shudder jolts down your spine. It feels as though you’ve been kicked in the chest, as though the breath has been knocked out of you entirely to make room for the lovely floaty lightness that's beginning to fill the space between your ribcage”
"Mm." Neteyam hums quietly, his fingers tightening in the soft flesh of your hips as he tilts his chin up to brush his lips over your sweaty temple. "Alright?”
No, You think, with no small amount of panic. You’re absolutely not alright. Neteyam may have just been fucking you to prove a point, because it’s always been so important to him that he’s perfect at everything he tries his hand at, but it feels as though he’s just cracked you wide open. You don’t think anyone will ever make you feel as good as he just did.
When you don’t immediately answer, one of his big palms cups the back of your neck so he can tilt your head back, and he leans down to kiss you again. He sucks your swollen bottom lip into his mouth so he can worry at it while you whine, toes curled where you tucked them under your legs, balanced on his thighs.
"Impressed?” He murmurs into your ear, his warm, dry hands stroking soothingly over your sweat-dampened skin.
You laugh despite yourself, and it comes out breathless and broken. “Fuck. I—yeah. Yeah. I’m impressed. Asshole.”
Neteyam’s expression brightens, his ears twitch back as his smile grows. He leans in and kisses you again, once, twice, then three times in quick succession, and out of the corner of your eye you see his tail coiling lazily against your sheets.
“Feel like I need to lay down,” You say. “For a week maybe.”
Neteyam just chuckles as you slowly lift your hips; when Neteyam slides out of you a soft sound of loss escapes from his mouth. You sympathise — you feel uncomfortably empty now that he's no longer nestled inside of you, but Neteyam is already gathering you into his arms and flopping back onto your mattress with you all curled up ontop of his chest.
It all feels so natural — you’ve never cuddled after intimacy like this, and you never would have imagined that Neteyam would allow you to do this. But it seems like he craves physical touch as badly as you does, because it feels as though his hands are everywhere as he holds you.
"Don't look so pleased with yourself, dickhead." You grumble, though you’re already relaxing under the pleasant warm weight of his hands
Neteyam’s smile only grows. "Why shouldn't I be pleased with myself? Have I left you unsatisfied?
You groan loudly, before burying your face in the pillow. The worst part is that it's true — you’ve never felt so satisfied in your life. You think that you could close your eyes and cheerfully float away on a cloud, but you don't want to suffer the humiliation of admitting that.
“I’m satisfied.” You admit, mortified. “It— yeah. You won that stupid competition. Well done.”
That has exactly the effect you had expected it to have; Neteyam’s chest puffs up where you’re laying across it, his eyes crinkling up as he grins. God, he’s so fucking smug.
You manage to swallow down your embarrassment so that you can ask the question that’s been knocking around your head since the first time he had kissed you.
“Can we… do that again, sometime?” You mutter, keeping your face pressed into his chest so he can’t see the vulnerability on your face.
Neteyam’s chest rumbles in a deep laugh, and his large palm settles between your shoulderblades.
“Whenever you want, yawntutsyìp. We have all the time in the world.” He murmurs, nuzzling his face into your hair. “Where ever you want. Here, the forest, my hut in the village—”
You laugh, blinking in surprise at his eagerness. You guess he must be absolutely pussy-whipped right now, which is pretty sweet.
“Next time we mate, we’ll do it in the forest so Txetyo can find us.” He says, and you can feel his teeth against the top of your head when he grins. “Let him watch as I make you scream again.”
"I did not scream!" You snap, embarrassed, reaching to smack at his chest. But then his words actually parse in your head, and you push yourself up quickly on top of his chest so you can look down at him, wincing a little at the ache between your legs.
Neteyam obviously catches your wince because he frowns and one of his hands reaches for your thigh, but you grab at his wrist as you gape at him.
“What the fuck did you just say?” You blurt.
That must have been a slip of his tongue. Every man you’ve been with before has been so damn careful to avoid the term mating, obviously terrified of you somehow getting the wrong idea; they made it painfully clear that it was just fucking, with no strings attached, because you were small and exotic and apparently the tightest thing they’ve ever gotten to put their dicks into.
Neteyam blinks owlishly, as though confused by your response. “What?” He asks, before his face relaxes. “Ah, it’s only the thought of me watching that does it for you?”
“No, it—” You blink at him. “You said… you said next time we… we mate.”
“Yes.” He says, wrapping one big arm around your waist to tug you back to him, as though he doesn’t like the fact that you’re shifting away. “I enjoyed mating here, where I can kiss your face, but it is very...”
He pauses then, and glances around your room. For the first time, you see it through his eyes; it’s small and dingy, the electric lights buzzing and flickering as they run on the ancient generator that Norm and a couple of the other older scientists had dragged from Bridgehead. Even though he’s gotten comfortable cuddling you on your bed, it’s far too small for him; his legs are hanging off the end of it, his feet flat against the floor. Compared to the fantastical natural homes of the Na’vi, your little bedroom seems like a shithole.
“You will be more comfortable in my hut in the village.” Neteyam says decisively, using the arm wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to his chest again. “I wish to take you in the forest, at Vitrautral, as is tradition.”
“Mating.” You repeat, just to check if you had heard him right. “We—that was mating.”
“Mhmm.” Neteyam’s hum sounds casual enough, but you can see the ridiculously pleased wave of his tail in the air behind him. “I told you that you were wasting time with those skxawngs, but I did not mind waiting for you. I did not like hearing them talk about you, about how you felt and how they pleased you, but… I knew I could prove myself a better prospect than all of them.”
“But—” You’re still struggling with this, staring at him with a bewildered expression. “But it—that was sex. It wasn’t—”
“I will take you to Vitrautral tomorrow, and mate you properly,” Neteyam murmurs, and you feel his big chest rumble beneath you in a pleased purr at the idea. “You do not need any other now. Yes?”
It feels almost too good to be true. Almost. Because damn, you want that so badly that it actually aches. After so many years of craving intimacy of any kind, it seems shockingly unlikely that it’s being offered by Neteyam, the very personification of an Omaticayan golden child. How have you gone from getting fucking in empty corners and deep in the forest to having the Olo’eyktan’s son talk about mating you?
You think of the herbs and plants he always brings to the healing hut, the bones and fibres he forages, the food he brings you after hunts. You had always thought he was just shoving how great he was in your face, but now all of that is starting to rearrange itself inside your head. Was he seriously just trying to impress you?
You laugh a little disbelievingly, and Neteyam’s arm tightens around you.
“I have a necklace,” He murmurs, nuzzling against your forehead. “Made with freshwater pearls from the ocean. I was going to give it to you earlier but—we got distracted. It is in my tewng—”
“Get it later,” You whisper, clinging to his chest. You’re so comfortable, you don’t want to move, just in case the moment slips away forever. He made you a necklace. Fuck, he made you a necklace! You’ve only ever seen Na’vi mating gifts from a distance; the thought of receiving one is beyond anything you’ve ever imagined.
Neteyam’s chest seems to swell, his expression brightening the moment you cling to him. He hugs you close, his purr now reminiscent of a damn chainsaw as he curls his whole big body around you.
Taking a chance, you do something that you’ve always sort of wanted to do, ever since you found out what it was; you reach behind him and take his kuru in your hand, feeling the thick, glossy protective braid in your fingers.
Neteyam shudders under you, his rumbling purr stuttering a little as his eyelids flitter, his eyes going dark. He doesn’t stop you, watching you with lightly parted lips as your hand closes around the most sacred, sensitive part of him.
“This is okay?” You whisper, your vulnerability clear in your voice.
“Of course,” He whispers back, as though the moment is a soap bubble that could burst at a slightly raised voice. “It is yours, syulang.”
Emboldened, you drag your fist down the glossy braid until you reach the end, where the glowing tendrils that make up the exposed manifestation of his nervous system. The fleshy pink tendrils writhe in the air, and you watch in eager amazement. You’ve only ever seen diagrams of this part of the Na’vi anatomy, and you want so badly to touch it.
“You can play with it all you want,” Neteyam murmurs, and his voice is breathless.
You breathe a laugh, glancing up at him with a little grin. His pupils are blown, his lips parted, his chest heaving. You want to gnaw on his ribs, swallow him whole; he’s so cute.
“I’ll save that for tomorrow,” You whisper, the words ringing like a promise.
Neteyam looks briefly disappointed, before his mood is promptly buoyed at the thought of mating you again at the Tree of Souls, as he had promised you. He buries his face happily in your neck as you pet absently at the protective braid covering his kuru. It’s a non-sexual touch, and yet he goes entirely boneless, purring up a storm as you stroke your hand over it.
“Told you those others could not please you, paskalin,” He murmurs, his words slurring a little as his eyelids flutter with every soft touch to his kuru. “Told you they did not know what to do with you.”
You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the fond smile pulling at your mouth.
“Mm. You did. Guess I needed someone like you, huh? A mighty warrior?” You say, teasing him with that silly little nickname he always called himself when you were a teenager. At the time you had thought he was so annoying, but now, looking back… you’re willing to admit it was pretty adorable.
Neteyam’s drowsy face pulls up in a sweet smile, his flat nose brushing against your collarbones. It seems like he’s pleased you remembered, or maybe he’s pleased that you’re impressed with him.
He kisses your neck, then mumbles sleepily, “The mightiest.”
Thinking about alpha!ghost who never really learned to control his scent, and reader who's nose doesn't work right after an injury.
Which, of course, means you and ghost get along well.
You don't really understand why people tend to avoid ghost, probably something to do with the scents you'll never be able to pick up. Kyle says he just smells 'aggressive'. People give him space in response to social cues you don't recognize.
"Oh! Hi, simon!" You perk up when ghost finds you in the recroom. You scoot over so he can sit next to you, and tilt your head up so he can rub his wrist into your neck. "How was the briefing? Anything interesting?"
You pointedly ignore the looks people throw ghost. You're aware he can't control his scent, something many people love to complain about. Sure, it's probably rude to be broadcasting 'fuck off' constantly, but you don't think it warrants the grimaces and people leaving a room because of him.
You never stopped to consider he was smelling like anything other than aggressive until price pulled you aside.
"Look, kid, I know it doesn't bother you," price rubs a hand over his face, looking oddly uncomfortable "but you need to stop encouraging ghost. It's inappropriate."
"What?" You ask, genuinely confused. "What am I encouraging?? I'm not allowed to be friends with him??"
"No, you're not allowed to get him going." Price huffs. He narrows his eyes at you, silent for a moment, before letting out a pained sigh "bloody hell, kid. You do know he's been courting you, right?"
"...what." no fucking way.
"Yes. And he reeks of horny alpha all. The. Damn. Time." Price looks at you pointedly, as if this is your fault "it's not exactly pleasant for everyone else on base."
"Oh...oh gosh." You bury your face in your hands, replaying all the times you glared back at people, assuming they were just being mean. "Oh my god."
Price just stands, leads you back out of his office "i think you and ghost should have a chat."
"Yeah...yeah we should." You agree.
...you should probably take him somewhere off base before that chat. Yknow, to spare the others ghosts scent when you accept his courting.
Synopsis. Gojo Satoru, the most dangerous underground fighter in all of Japan - and the…hottest, too. You, the cute nurse that takes care of him, and totally not his favorite prize, right? Right?
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! nurse! reader, underground fighter! Gojo, scarred Gojo, he wears a muzzIe, slight vioIence, he’s a little (very) ínsane, muscular Gojo, manhandIing, full neIsons, semi-public, thigh grínding, edging, Gojo goes FÉRAL, tummy buIges, creampíes, face-sítting (fem rec.), cúmplay, BIIIG stretches, running from it, making it fit, HEADLOCKS, chokíng, fighting talk, squírting, dúmbifícation, víbrators, marks (on him), L bómbs, Sukuna cameos, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 8.0k
A/N. Happy 100 chapters on AO3!! Here’s a lil’ something for my hubby <3
They say that Gojo Satoru could take down the strongest of fighters with only six moves.
Audiences adored him, opponents insisted that the man wasn’t even human. And it was well known around these parts that one had to be brave enough that it inched into stupidity to ever even think about challenging him.
Hell, they’ve had to muzzle him in thick leather just to give his opponents even the briefest advantage.
Some trembled in fear at the very mention of his name - peering ‘round, making sure they wouldn’t catch a glimpse of those haunting sapphire eyes, or those scarred fists that left no evidence. No witnesses. Others scoffed at the exaggerations of what were obviously little more than sketchy underground scraps. A publicity stunt, surely.
That is, until they saw him.
And you have, too.
With the nature of your job, you had to constantly be present after rounds to tend to bruises, scratches and - if Gojo was involved - broken bones, after all.
Only…you were here for him.
“OH! King of Curses down- Six Eyes knees him in the ribs so hard that I’m sure you could hear it, ladies and gentleman! Is he the one who’ll take the Shinjuku Showdown grand prize tonight?!”
You’re grimacing at both the booming volume of the eager commentator, and the cracking slam of flesh-on-flesh. Having your special nurse’s position smack-dab on the first row meant that you could see n’ hear everything.
Everything.
From the roaring cheers of the bustling crowd on their feet, to the way that Gojo was gritting through his dark Stygian muzzle and grinning. Wild. Gorgeous.
Your thighs squeeze together involuntarily - despite the way the entire underworld had his name in their mouths, the one thing nobody ever disagreed on was how…hot Gojo Satoru was.
A devil masquerading like an angel. All curtains of silky, sweat-slicked white hair, and muscles for daaaays. His skin-tight t-shirt was hanging off of him in nothing but rings of tatters, showing off a snowy happy trail that makes you gulp. Milky skin glistening in the beating stadium lighting, all decorated in as much battle-won scars as sultry, sultry veins.
Gojo’s towering shadow falls right in front of where you were gawking up at him, and fuck- he makes a big show of letting the rest of his shirt riiiip—! with only a mere tug.
Well, there was a reason he was your favorite patient.
And you swear he was so close that you could practically taste the scorching iron dripping between his lips, lacquering his pearly whites with a thin film. All red and raw when he turns to you and winks–
“HOLY SHIT! The King makes a comeback- he’s still on his feet! And he’s swinging wide at our monster Six Eyes.”
The thundering, thick stadium air simmers a few degrees tenser as Ryomen Sukuna crashes his meaty, closed fist right into the other’s right cheekbone. Shocked inhales ring out all around you - because if Gojo was the monster of underground fighting, then Sukuna was the curse.
The only fighter in history to ever get a solid few knocks on the other. Both massive.
And if this was anyone else, the sheer force would have made them pass out right then and there. If this was anyone else, then they wouldn’t be snickering-
“Cute.” Gojo’s deep sing-song voice is cold. Seething. Just barely audible enough that your buzzing eardrums can make out. He throws one arm over the stretchy fighting ring ropes, “But I gotta lady ta impress.”
Crimson eyes flicker to you for nothing but a split-second, but it was long enough for the other man to grow rigid. On edge for the first time.
Smugly, Sukuna spits right into Gojo’s face. “Heh- Hell yeah, that chick’ll be impressed in the locker rooms by a real winner later. Me.”
Just a word about you is all it takes.
A breathless gasp departs from your lips as something in Gojo grows…different.
Without another word, he’s drifting over a hand to one of the bulky bands wrapped firmly around his wrists. Unlatching them. So often mistaken for somewhat of a fashion statement, but after so long spent in fighting company, you knew what they really were.
They were weights. Yet another disadvantage.
And they crack the ground as they fall.
“Weights? Weights?! OH- Gojo headbutts! The King of Curse’s is down-” He’s bleeding and accomplished, every trace of humor wiped. Every degree of a smirk clenched into a steely scowl, and suddenly you’re feeling that perhaps those rumors about him being superhuman are true. Perhaps. “SHIT! He snaps back with an elbow strike-”
Gojo’s big, beefy biceps tense and flex as he curls it menacingly around Sukuna’s throat into a fucking headlock - and your thighs clench.
“You- fucking-” He chokes out past the sculptured harness, cushioned palms coming to slam down on Gojo’s forearm. “For- for some girl-”
Tightening, “What was that~?”
“The King misses- oh, he’s in some real trouble now! Place your bets, you greedy watchers, there’s a reason they call Six Eyes ‘The Strongest’.”
And you knew that underground fights had no rules other than attempt not to die - or, at the very least, try not to make a mess when you do. It’s hard to get stains out of the felt. But Sukuna’s vein-popped face was going purple now, and Gojo was blank-featured through it all.
Barely even flinching as his opponent grapples a hand into his ridged obliques, lunging and lunging. And yet, the strongest doesn’t even flinch.
Doesn’t even notice, it seems.
His ghostly cerulean eyes drift to you, seated on the edge of your chair, and he slams a knee into Sukuna’s rugged face. Letting the man drop onto the frictional ground with a resounding thud! - before his fists continue.
Once. Twice. Clawing at his throat-
“FUCK- CALL THE MEDICS. SIX EYES IS MAKING A SLAUGHTER-SCENE–!”
And no one needed to draw the count, for fear of getting near. Why would they risk death incarnate?
Continuing and continuing until Yaga barks at four- five other referees to even get Gojo to budge. They only just manage to throw a few arms ‘round his powerful ones, and pull him far back enough to giggle down at the carnage he’s created.
Voice octaves higher. Crazed. “Don’t you talk about my lady, ya hear?”
Yaga, as Gojo’s burly coach and former champion, is the one that dares break his harrowing eye-contact to shake him into a stand. Ordering the organizers to get the awards ceremony done as swiftly as possible lest they wanted one of their top-earning fighters down for the count permanently.
“S-Six Eyes is the champion of Shinjuku Showdown! And in LESS than his signature six moves- oh what a fight it was! One for the books, folks!”
Of course, Six Eyes is declared the winner.
And as Gojo is handed a glinting winner’s banner - dominant arm being thrust in the air - you watch as Sukuna’s barely half-conscious firm slurs out a ferocious, “Rematch. T-tomorrow.”
Cash. A shoddy belt. Champagne.
Tens upon hundreds of reporters and photographers scramble and keen to get the most-selling shots of him. The glare of the flashing lights illuminating him into some sort of other-worldly figure.
A fighter so dangerous that they claim he hides six eyes. And yet, they only remain on you.
Though, it’s not as if you’re any better - you can’t look away.
He stands tall, proud. Button nose overspilling with a wisp of cherry-red, perspiration-dampened shorts clinging onto thick thighs and showing you a pretty tuft of white in a way that was unintentionally sexy. Gojo’s leathery mask now dangles haphazardly to show off such a wicked grin.
And Gojo points. Right at you. In front of everyone.
“Later,” he’s mouthing, whilst interviewers scream for a quote.
Oh…
.
.
.
“Fuh-fuuuck, Toru–!” Your mouth floods with sheer bucketloads of drool through each wailing whine n’ whimper, back arched like such a slut into Gojo’s bumpy, Herculean front- though, what else could you have expected when the great Gojo Satoru himself accompanied you to your dingy clinic above the fighting ring?
Ready for his real prize of the night.
And lo and behold, bandages and rubbing alcohol forgotten, you’re finding yourself draped right over his lap so prettily; struggling to close your jittery legs ‘round his huge, meaty thighs.
The fringes of your teeth nip right along Gojo’s plush, scarred deltoids once he tugs on your nurse’s outfit and clings onto a good handful of your ass, draaaagging you to grind all over his quadriceps. Dribbling out a fresh line of candied slick that smears on top of every dip and curve of his bulging muscles.
Your drenched panties catch onto his velvety boxing shorts and you have to hold back a tiny sob. With a deep inhale of his musky cologne, you murmur, “T-Toru, I wan’ you ngh- so bad, y’know?”
“Awww, how cute~” He’s crooning from above,muzzle still on. The pointed curve of his nose tickling your throbbing pulse. Dangerous. Gojo breathes in your sweet scent until it’s all he can smell, “But yer gonna get us caught, mama.”
And he’s so mean.
He fought mean, and he teases you even meaner.
You’re frowning, kiss-swollen lips down-turning into a pout once the sensory pads of his stern digits rover up to your cheeks and smush them together. Crashing your jutted mouth into his frosty mask–
“C’mon now, gotta- gotta be quiet.” Gojo groans at the way you’re getting ever-more soaked when he’s toying with you like this. Lazily, he drops his muzzle to let his plump, bubblegum-pink lips tickle down your own, “Suck on my tongue, there- you can do better.”
So filthy.
Huffing out, your further unfastened jaw basically floods with the damp rivulets of saliva that just kept on watering out of you. When it rained, it poured - and Gojo finds himself smirking at the slop. “Yeah- yeahyeah, you got it. Theeere’s a good girl.”
Weepy pussy positively throbbing at the scratchy texture of his tongue like candy, you couldn’t help but let your fuzzy mind wonder how it would feel inside-
“Oi, nasty girl.” Your pitchy yelp fills the paper-thin walls as Gojo gifts the right of your ass with a rude spank, and then one more just to hear you make that cute noise again. Gruffing out, “Can feel ya getting wetter on top of me. S’like a damn waterpark.”
Before you have the time to even catch your breath, he slouches back sensually to watch you - letting your thin patient bed ring out with an ancient creak!
And Gojo stares at you lecherously- oh, he was devouring you with his heavily half-lidded gaze.
The way you’re pouring out syrupy sap with every urgent back n’ forth of your hips, the way all he has to do is hook a thumb past your gluey stuck panties to watch you pulse and quiver.
Hazy, summer blue peripherals roaming all over your needy expression for a split-second before he’s tap-tap-tapping the doughy mound of his heel on the tile floor. Bouncing you with every motioned lurch, your puffed-up clit catches on one of his zig-zagging veins and you squeal.
Oh? Speeding up, you’re struggling desperately at his whims. One hand grappling onto Gojo’s dimpled back, and the other clawing at the starchy bedspread, no matter how much you were trying to regulate the tempo - he would just speed up more.
And more. And more.
Over and over he’s lurching just a few carnal inches off of your bedsprings to chase your sensitive nub. Reeling you down - hard - with a hand stuck to you like adhesive, to pap! against his thigh, letting white-hot bliss spark all that way from your pressurized clit and up your clammy spine.
“F-fuck!” You’re babbling away, fingers interlocking with the soft creamy curls at his nape. Clawing. “Toru– k-keep that up and I won’t…”
Gojo perks his calloused thumb to swivel over your sloshing mess and promptly plugs up your unfastened lips, muffling you. “Shhh shh sh- Wouldn’t wan’ any of those fucks to hear those pretty noises, my girl.”
He was brutal.
Your lower tummy was tumbling and spinning and doing gymnastics you didn’t even think existed. And it was times like this that the strongest from all those headlines peaked his head through.
Swirling your tongue around his plummy fingerpad, he tasted so much like caramel salt that made your legs grow weaker. Cadence springing to jerky. To oversensitive. “P-please- ngh!”
“Now, what was that pretty lil- hey now, c’mere.” Your lungs cave with a soft ‘please’ as soon as an engulfing, bruised hand crowns your sweat-oiled scalp and holds you still. Gojo doesn’t even have to try, and yet he’s showing off a few sexy flexes of his biceps just for you to ogle at.
Rutting his jerky leg up into you until your head throws back, he can’t help but leave a sweet, innocent peck right there on the tender spot of your throat. “Don’t run. Don’t run from me.”
Another wet kiss near your slobbery maw, and yet another swat of his thickly tipped fingers right over the slivery slope of your pussy. The sharp sting was just enough to get your glassy eyes to focus on him, “Yeah? Look at me- gimme a lil’ kiss, mama.”
Oh, he always was such a ruthless opponent.
Because as soon as your spit-glossed lips are crawling towards his, Gojo’s prying them open and spitting inside with a soft coo. Watching as the treacly wad of splashing syrup slides allll the way to puddle the back of your throat.
“T-tease.”
“I think you mean…champion.” He hunches you over until you’re slipping n’ sliding all down the ridged rollercoaster of his abs. The fragile points of your hardened nipples massaging into his sensual scars and driving you mad. Sweaty and needy. Boring dead-on into your half-shuttered heart eyes, “Now, tell me what you want.” He hums, still tugging on your bloated outer cunt, watching you gasp. “Tell me what’s got this lady here so fuckin’ wet.”
Your words choke with every viscid tear - tears of bliss. Close. “Want t-to-”
“Mhmm–?”
“To-” You’re just so far gone, your gushing orifice only getting soppier and soppier by the second. And before Gojo’s fourth and final spank comes slamming down on your clit- you’re crying. “Cum- fuck fuck fuck- m’so close. So- m’gonna cum–”
And as soon as it was about to happen - it’s gone.
Immediately, your lungs depart with a disappointed whine. “Nooo–!” Scratching at the pronounced back of his throat, you’re struggling to maneuver your body within his merciless hold. And the entire time Gojo only watches in amusement at his sheer display of strength, “I was so close- fuck! Was about to cum, Toru…”
“Nuh uh.” Gojo’s grinning - grinning. And oh, despite the way that makes his cheek indent with a cute, cratering dimple you already know this won’t bode well for you. “M’starvin’ after that match.”
Before you can dredge up enough brainpower to ask what that meant - he’s already showing you.
Falling back onto the stark white bed until his head hit the pillows with a dull whoosh! and for the moment you’re simply admiring just how pretty he is.
This wasn’t the Six Eyes that everyone knew and feared.
With his ethereal locks splaying out on the cushion like a halo, looking oh-so-pale in comparison to the pretty pink that he was flushing all the way from forehead to neck. Irises half-lidded, crazed. Gojo’s broad, scarred chest heaves with every murked out pant he was whistling out.
Twiddling over the shoulder strap of that tight lil’ number you called your nurse’s outfit. “Take this off f’me- show me my hah- show me my lady.”
Oh, it would never get old when you do that.
The way that Gojo’s toes curl, the apples of his cheeks staining with a scorching whirlwind of blushing red. Fuck- his heavy tongue droops even heavier with a slick covering of watery spittle, just watching you in your matching set of bra n’ panties.
All in light blue.
“Knew I’d win, huh?” He’s quirking a snowy brow smugly as he does away with your bra, too. “C’mere.” Gojo’s long lashes flutter up at you delicately, his crowning smirk plastered permanently across his handsome features. And as you’re tentatively making your way on top of him, he cups a roaming grope of your left ass-cheek.
Squeezing for a second - two - before the strongest simply lifts you up to straddle his face. He doesn’t even waste a second. Doesn’t even hesitate.
Setting you down gently - you think he of all people would even need to try to manhandle your pretty self this way?
No introductions, no welcome mats necessary - your throbbing pussy was already pouring out in torrentials of translucent sap right through your underwear. Copious, dolloping droplets that hit his readily awaiting pinkish tastebuds in claggy splats!
“Mmm—” He’s swirling his soaked muscle all ‘round the insides of his mouth to just savor your sugary taste. Through a sharp, three-second spank to your ass once more, Gojo grunts, “No need to be shy. Sit on my face, mama.”
And Gojo was always such a messy eater - not even the slightest bit afraid to get his hands dirty.
No wonder all his opponents complained that he had the filthiest mouth. His tongue was lengthy, dexterous enough to slither past your panties with a sapping squelch! the very nanosecond your drooling core hits the tip of his tongue.
Oh- Gojo’s eyes agonize shut simply to memorize the pattern in which your strands of dangling slick slipped into his mouth. Lathering his chin all glossy, “Yeah like that-” His rugged palms stick to that perfect curvature of your spine. “-sit properly. Sit.”
You’re mumbling out something barely audible, cut off when he curls a firm hand around your throat and pulls you down onto his ravenous face. “Said- fucking sit-”
Sweltering hot breath strikes your geysering hole and makes you keen, your cracked eyelids open just barely enough to spot the way Gojo lands a shimmering glob of saliva right inside. And more when it only adds to the steadily-growing pool you were formulating on his pointed chin, his neck.
Whimpering when your weight settles on a purple-ish spot on his cheek where Sukuna had caught him off-guard.
“Watch this.” He’s moaning throatily, making such a show of letting your slippery slit streak out utter cascades all down his tongue. “Told ya- s’a fuckin’ heh- waterpark. Come ride my mouth, my girl- come- come.”
Your head tumbles back with a loud ‘fuck’ when his parched muscle bullies right past the rubbery ring of your entrance. And he takes the time curling his mazing tip into your slicked hole and streeeetching out a cute lil’ heart that makes you whine your poor heart out.
With a scoff at the way whoever walked by your clinic definitely knew what was happening, Gojo’s slapping the tender skin of your ass raw. “Yeah yeah, louder n’ maybe that ngh- bastard Sukuna will hear.”
Slowly yet sensually probing his tastebuds into every mushy ridge and corner embedded inside of you, he was roaming so deep. Raking a thorough grip on your right ass cheek to gyrate your sodden cunt rougher.
Fucking you wiiildly with his tongue - so wide. Fast.
He was impatient.
“Y’know with you sittin’ and- nghh-” You’re mewling once he tapes off that sentence with a pinch of your perked clit between his plush lips. Hollowing out those attractive cheeks to tug n’ tug until you’re sobbing. “-and- and squirming in the seats tonight- this was alllll I could think about?”
He spits back a loaded wad of drool that slides away back down to your flooded hole, pushing the webbed mess right back with the fat crown of his thumb. “Couldn’t wait-”
“Ngh- Toru—” You’re recanting like your own personal mantra, the crackles in your voice following every flop of his textured tongue in and out in and out in and out. “Keep going- hah! Feels so gooood–”
“Mhm, I know.” Gojo bites back cockily, chewing on the squishy inside of his cheek to stop himself from fucking moaning outloud at how your pussylips were just throbbing. The very same pulse you felt in your tight throat. “Had to stop myself from- ngh- making out with this lady right ‘ere all in front- in front of those cameras.”
“Y-you would-”
THWACK!
Oh, he’s snapping at the stretchy elastic of your panties to let the slimy fabric spank your precise pussymound.
Taking the filthy, filthy opportunity while you’re thrown into a dumbstruck daze to skim a few strong fingers underneath your stringy panties, Gojo pulls-pulls-pulls until it’s torn cleanly off of your hips. Freeing you completely bare, and gifting him with the perfect scented fabric for him to draw up to his nose and sniff–
Your jaw dangles widely agape, the same greedy oh! that your dewy hole makes when setting it aside to dip a finger sloppily inside your cunt.
Stocky and long. And yet you take Gojo’s length middle finger with great gulping clamps of your dripping pussy, so much so that you’re hearing a growling “Fuuuck, mama- m-made for me.” from underneath you.
You just made the strongest…stutter?
And you’re just pouring wet from the idea, but before you can stupidly open your mouth to taunt the big, bad fighter below you - Gojo squeezes his hold on your neck and draaaags you further down. Until you’re so pushed against his hot maw that you don’t know where you end and he begins.
He’s spitting, there’s another pop! as he adds another girthy finger to scissor apart your treacly slit. Rovering and rovering. Your voice shatters into numerous pieces so cutely, and he can feel the way your core pulsates frantically once he’s smudging the doughy tops of his digits nearer to your g-spot.
Hmmm, he’s snickering internally. Gojo’s swirlin’ his manicured fingernail right over your bulging magical spots with such ease. It was so cute how obvious you were.
“Got such a pretty cunt.” You’re arching desperately on and off his vibrato of words, the very same vibrations curdling that tightness in your stomach. “Such a pretty- pretty…”
“Sh-shiiit, Toru–” You hiccup, warbling shrills filling up Gojo’s ears like his favorite song. And it was. Almost as much as the plap! of a fresh wave of sap spraying a sheen across his face as he slithers in a third finger.
Sliding his pearly whites over your neglected clit, “Tha’s my name.” Gojo’s mouth hangs open with every slop, slapping alllll over the hood of your nub before trying to squish the very mound of his tongue in past your overstuffed entrance. Stimulating you. Driving you insane.
He’s swatting your ass a few more times until the mere touch of skin-on-skin sends your eyes sliiiding all the way to the back of your head. Gurgling – wet. “Say it a lil’ louder f’me now.”
“Toru–” you’re raking your hands down his pecs, nudging your plump clit right into the very tip of his button nose. And oh, you’re feeling the frigid whoosh! of air once Gojo leans his head in and takes a deeeep breath. Tugging gingerly on his unruly hair and he groans-
“Louder.”
“T-To-”
“No stutterin’.”
And you don’t know if you could comply with all his mean rules even if you could, the locked vice of his warm palm jostling your watery eyes until they were dead staring at him.
He was peering up at you through angelic, white lashes with such loving. Cerise lips swirling all over your beating clit, he could practically taste the rapid ba-dump–! of it coating his heated mouth.
Starting to crawl straightly up but you don’t even mean to. All he has to do is grasp your throat until all the air drains from your lungs and you’re held there. Solely by his monstrous strength.
Swallowing back the leaden lump that’s permanently branded on your throat, with a flex of broad arms you’re being lazily shoved sloppier and sloppier by each passing second. And as you’re resting your dribbling slit back on his sensual chin, a steamy cloud of Gojo’s giggles hit where you’re stretched the most tautly tight.
Blinking eyes flickering with primal need, your bleary vision is just filled with the heavenly sight of him him him. Urging your rickety knees to knobble faster, he murmurs into your folds. “Say it.”
“P-please.” The outdated bed sings as you’re shivering. Shaking. And no amount of cute gasps that you intake is enough to stop your heart from racing. “Toru. Please l-let me ngh- cum.”
“Hmmmm. Good enough.” He’s leering mean-spiritedly up at you, that very same wicked curve of his lips glued to your pretty clit. Gojo lets off a strained growl that almost makes you shy – desperate. “Now…you’re gonna squirt f’me, mama.”
Another hit thud! of hits at your g-spot, and another few steps closer to your inevitable high. So close, in fact, that you’re not even realizing what Gojo’d uttered until he lolls out his fat tongue like he was drunken, silvery slabs of spit hitting your inner thighs. “Spit.”
Fuck- the very same moment your glittery cobweb of saliva is hitting his sizzling tastebuds, you’re hitting your high. Well, more like crashing headfirst into it.
And Gojo was right, the way you squirted your brain-shattered release was in the most vapid spurts of juices. Spraying out of you like a fountain, sploshing all over the top of his face n’ gravitating down to his chin. “Squirt on my face- yeahyeah fuck, squirt on my face.”
One that he loooooves. Oh, how he loves it. Loves you.
“So sweet- fuck…fuck, always the fuckin’ sweetest, my girl.” His guttural syllables ring out and make your eyes immediately flap helplessly shut. Toes curling, “Thank you- was so fuckin’ thirsty after that fight. Thank you.”
Lets his swollen lips slip open to drink up the honeyed squirts in big, deep sluuuuurps–! Scraping near your g-spot to draw out more and more of those pooling splotches all over his face. Gojo knots his fingers ‘round your throat and shoves your pussy to cling to his mouth ruthlessly. You’re watching through the white-hot stars behind your lids at how obviously his prominent Adam’s apple bumps and propels.
Fuck.
Glossy layers of slick stick to your folds like a candied apple, and every lil’ suck Gojo leaves drives you craaazy. Soon enough, your thighs are twitching right on top of him, “Please, Toru–”
“Mmmm–?” He’s panting, positively blistered in sweat at this point. And even when he’s catching his eyes with yours, his own look…cloudy. Feral. Murmuring something like ‘round one’ into your outer pussy.
“Want you in me–” You’re babbling out the only few sets of words you know will work to draw him away from the sweet, sweet dessert he’s found between your legs. And you’re watching with bated breath as Gojo takes a sloppy second to consider, still nibbling his canines on your sensitive clit.
Huffing n’ puffing cutely, you’re reeling your sweet cunt back– only for Gojo to squeeze his hold around your neck and pull-
“Just one more-” He’s contaminating the heady clinic air with repeated saccharine, saturated squelches after every peck upon peck. Like it hurt to part with your pussy - it always did, n’ Gojo made sure to leave her more than enough goodbye kisses.
“One more-” Stringy oodles of slick washing over his face, “One- one more.” Again. Just another French kiss. “One…” And again.
And again and again until you’re dipping your hands through his mussed-up bangs of cloudy white and tugging, all that it takes for Gojo’s achingly hard cock to twitch.
“O-oh.” His voice breaks so many multiple octaves higher as he pulls away with a final - final - slimy graze of his stinging lips. Head lazing in an angle downwards, as if he’d just noticed the painful, rock-hard bulge tenting his too-tight boxing shorts.
And Gojo’s cerulean eyes widen, flitting from the slushy wet spot soaked through his dark pants, to the way your glistening hole was winking down at him. Needily - as if to beg.
The middle of your bowed spine tingles with the remnants of your orgasm as soon as Gojo opens his mouth to growl. Low. Rasping.
Depraved.
“On- on my cock now, mama.” He’s tracing his hands admiringly over your tummy, the edge of his thick thumb drawing a long line right across the middle and your teary slit - measuring you. Where he’d already memorized the sweet lil’ targets he’d be fucking deeeep inside. Could never forget. Gojo nudges his straight nosebridge between your dewy folds once more, “Gotta really celebrate w’my heh- lady here tonight.”
And as you’re scrambling on your still-tottering knees to slide yourself down his Adonis-like body, he scoffs.
With a blunt roll of his eyes, Gojo’s cupping the curve of your slam-driven ass and manhandling you easily. Trawling your weepy pussy down, down, down over every one of the calloused scars on his front, every one of his bumpy abs - you counted eight - to sit all prettily beneath the snug waistline of his shorts.
Gojo spies up at you through his chalky bangs, plastered to his forehead with perspiration until you’re barely making his greedy stare out. Eyes half-hooded, pupils darkly dilated until you couldn’t even see those irises.
It’s then - only then - that you realize just how ruined he looked.
With that blossoming injury from tonight’s match across his cheek, burnished and purple - though, not even half as bright as the flush that coated his pretty features.
All red and raw. You were practically basking in the scalding heat that radiated off of him, melting the glassy sheen of slick that dripped off of him in globules, so fucking wet.
And yet, Gojo only ever wanted more. Kissing you with his cutely pink lips, he heaves in great panting gusts. “Take- heh-” Massive, twitchy hands fall on your own and guide them to his thick hem, a viscous gumdrop of your sap trickles from the point of his nose. “Take ‘em off f’me, mama. Take a goood long look f’me~”
“So bossy.”
“Mmm— I’ll be fuckin’ that rude mouth shut soon.”
Gojo sits obediently manspread as you fumble your eager fingertips underneath his shorts and pull–
The first thing you see is a curly tuft of his white happy trail, glimmering and drenched through with his own buttery precum.
And the second thing you see…fuck. He’s never been harder.
Swollen n’ aching. Gojo’s furiously reddened mushroom tip dribbles out a constant stream of syrupy pre, hitting your hands with a loud splash! And not just that– he was spilling out a murked milky few dewdrops as if eating you out had him on the very verge of cumming.
He’s sprawling his swole, veined arms behind his head, letting you gawk and ogle as you please.
And how could you not?
You don’t think you’ll ever get used to just how pretty Gojo and his erect cock was. Damn past ten inches, it’s as if he grows every time you see him for a post-match ritual.
And so does his rosy cockhead, the exact same shade of pink as his burning cheeks. So wide that your slippery hole clenches ‘round nothing at the sight. All bloated and over-decorated with so many lightning bolted veins, you’re feeling your mouth water at the mere notion of tasting him–
“Ah ah-” He tuts, pulling you away as he once more cradles your throat softly in one hand.
You pout, “B-but…”
Nodding sloooowly so you understand, “Wanna fuck this pretty pussy. Ride me like a hah- good girl now, m’kay?”
Oh, he was so evil. He knew exactly how that lil’ nickname would have your mind pitching into a state of carnal frenzy.
The desire purely evident on your gorgeous face as you’re toppling your capped knees on either side of his firm, toned waist.
One masculine hand wrapping around his bulky hilt - aligning it all ready to smooch your pretty pussy - he sliiiides his heavy head to sandwich between your bloated folds. Rocking upwards into a teasing little back n’ forth that leaves his rigid head swatting on your clit. Pap! Pap! Pap!
“Ready–?” Gojo drawls out in husked syllables, licking his lips to lap up any remnant of you. Wordless, the only thing you can manage out right now is a shaken nod.
Before it feels like you’re being split apart.
You’re whining when your hole stretches out with a rowdy sluuuurp–! just the thickened tip of his length popping in past your entrance. And he’s so fat, you could feel every solid ba-dump–! of his prominent veins tugging your cunt apart.
“Oh, f-fuck, jus’ look at you.” He’s spitting through gleaming clenched teeth, words hitting you straight into your saccharine sweet pussy. Biting down on his pouty bottom lip, “Just ngh- look at you takin’ me- taking that biiig stretch, fuck.”
Your glassy eyes roll all the way back at the way he wasn’t even halfway inside yet already made you feel so dizzy. Stumbling flailingly into his arms, “Wanna kiss, Toru–”
“S’so cute when you’re all cockdrunk” Gojo whispers as he leaves a stinging spank on your ass, the shock of the force makin’ you swerve your hips deeper down his thick shaft.
But he doesn’t kiss you - not yet. Instead, he’s chuckling deeply at your adorable irritation, sharp hips bucking off the mattress just so that he could fit himself inside. Up. Up. Up. Probing and probing his pulsing crowned tip over and over to ease inside a few more solid inches.
“T-Tooooruuuu–”
“Mhm–” He places a warm palm faced open on your tummy, searching for that familiar bump where he’d be ruining you all inside. Where his rounded head would be prying apart your gum-like walls in urgent impales. “I’ll kiss you if ya say ‘biiig stretch’ f’me, my girl.”
You’re squirming your hips impatiently, only to be locked down with only one of Gojo’s hands. Honestly, what did you think going against a fighting champion? “B-big-”
“Nuh uh.” Bearing you with a wild, animalistic smile that makes you shudder. All wide and toothy. He’s rudely slapping you once more - this time on your dripping cunt. Quivering. “Say it. Biiig stretch, mama.”
“B-big-” You wail out whimpers just as soon as your little mistake leaves Gojo’s swollen shaft inching out of your hole, a warning. Already making you feel so empty inside- “Fuck! Big- biiig- stretch mmpf-”
Before you can register it, a hand clawed into your throat pulls you to crash your lips onto Gojo’s soft ones - muffling the absolute trill you’re letting off when he finally bottoms out with one big push. Finally.
“Now m’kissing you here, too–” he has the audacity to flush.
His sensual mushroom tip scrapes a swiveling line allll down your gooey walls, swirling ‘round and ‘round until he’s following the map directly to your g-spot. Giving her a good long snog, you’re curling your toes at the swashing waves of pre that dribble out of him and straight onto that tender orifice.
You’re so full that your mouth overspills with generous helpings of drool, slobbering right onto the valley between his pecs where you found yourself laid.
The slick velvety walls of your cunt scoop him up gladly, and Gojo finds himself wearing such a dopey smile at the instinctual way your gummy walls clench. “Hmm– have I ever told ya how much I ngh- love you?”
And maybe it was the way his thick cock was reaching you everywhere, maybe it was the way Gojo stared at you with heart eyes. It could’ve been anything and everything - you simply found yourself cumming.
Right then and there, with only a few vulgar bludgeons of his merciless cock.
And Gojo?
Gojo looks like he’s in heaven.
Startling out a slight puff of laughter while he careens his hips back to fuck you through your sudden high, and you can feel the way he pinpricks your insides with every thrust. Feel the way he strikes right at your most favorite spots - precisely.
“Already? I really am winnin’ tonight- heh. Already won Round 2, too.”
Round 2? What is he…oh.
Oh, shit.
He’s talking about how many times he’s made you cum.
The sounds of his raspy praises make your ears buzz, head throwing backwards when you start to arch your back and rut yourself, attempting to meet his vicious pace. To run.
“Fuh-fuuuuck” You’re biting your tongue to try and fight back those pathetic pitches and mewls seeping from your lips. And all it takes is a slamming whack into your cervix to render that useless. “Fuck me- fuckmefuckme, Toooru–!”
“Now now,” he’s tutting, and oh you can feel your tummy lurch with anticipation at that dark tonality of his. Or maybe that was just the feral twitch of his battering tip.
Through eyes saturated with a film of fat droplets of tears, you’re glancing down at the way your hips are suddenly pinned to his toned pelvis. Unmoving. With just his steady grip of your throat. “Runnin’s against the rules, mama.”
And suddenly, you’re moved so fast your cottony brain begins to wonder if maybe you’ve teleported.
You’re whimpering as your fatigued back ends up laid over the crescent curves of his pectorals, his front digging into your mounds of flesh as Gojo pulls your clammy knees back back back back. Into a full nelson so mean that you don’t even realize he’s positioned his cock until he sinks allll the way back in–
“Atttta girl. Look at youuu–” His hoarse pants sizzle the tender lobes of your ear after every unapologetic pound you’re being graced with. You gawp at the full-length mirror that was right adjacent to the patient bed, shit- you forgot that was even there.
And now that you’d taken a glimpse at the lecherous scene, you couldn’t look away.
Gojo was so staggering. Swole muscles bending you pliably, the only thing holding you upright enough so that your cross-eyed stare could lock with your fucked-out reflection in the mirror.
Your dizzy pupils circling all over comically the more n’ more he jackhammered away. Vehemently.
The girth of his shaft was so big that your head lolls stupidly back into the planes of his collarbones, “Takin’ care of ya favorite fighter.”
Five exact circumferences of his fingertips sway over to that large, cylindrical outline being oh-so-thoroughly fucked into you. A tummy bulge that he thumbs over, that mushroomy globular end.
“Takin’ c-care of me alllll ngh-” He massages down on that cute lil’ bump going back and forth back and forth back and forth. Driving himself just as crazy as he was with you. Groaning, “-here.”
And Gojo’s body was still aching from the aftereffects of his fight, he was still sore in places with soon-to-be bruises. Yet, he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t even slow down.
Hard and fast.
His crownhead an angry red that prodded your deepest, most tender insides. Pushing and pushing and pushing. So wide that both you and the rickety bed were singing with whimpers after every delving drag of his vein-covered length.
Strokes vulgar. Alllll the way from the very strawberry divot in the middle of his globular tip, to the massive circumference of his hefty base. And even though every pricking whack into your cervix was hard, Gojo took his lazy time pulling back out to make sure you felt every bump and bolt of his swollen veins scraping down your insides.
“Watch this.”
“Wh-what- oh.”
You’re peering through the smoggy mirror at the way the strongest himself rovers up his big, beefy right arm to wrap neatly ‘round your neck. His hard-earned biceps bulging against your throat and blocking off your airway sexily.
Watching yourself, you swear you could count every vein thumping down his forearm, every flex of his rippling muscles caging against your neck. Oh…you only got wetter.
“Saw you lookin’ at me. Could tell how much ya- haaah- liked this, mama.” Gojo titters, words sloppy and his strokes even sloppier. “Almost drenched the heh- seat didn’tya? Watching me? Ohhh you like this don’tcha? W’my big arms puttin’ you in a ngh- big headlock?”
Babbling. Gojo himself was drooling, a thin trickle of spittle that befell with every passing second he watched your sloppy slit swallow his inches.
Yearning for more.
Begging for more.
You half-couldn’t believe that was you with your face tear-streaked and oh-so-ruined in the reflection. And once you feel that familiar fluttering from your pussy, you’re slithering down a hand between your legs–
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” He was breathless.
It was so easy for Gojo to trap both your unsteady wrists within only one of his, gruffly bringing you back into your cute headlock whilst pinning them so you could struggle allll you want. But he wasn’t letting up.
Clinging onto your swiveling with one hand, and keeping you manhandled with the other. He bucks his hips so your curved spine is rubbed all down with his sweat-glossed abs, he knew how weak you were for it.
Smearing the stocky end of his thumb over your needy clit, “Not when ya have me, mama.” He breathes next to your ear, so close. Drawing circles. Hearts. His name. Mindlessly lapping away the pearls of tears running down your face, “Not when your d-dear ngh- ‘Toru’s’ here.”
And when you’re cumming, it’s with those exact words scratching a carnal desire set inside of you.
“Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming- ngh!” Your previous orgasms had already taken so much out of you that it was all you could to will yourself not to pass out right now and here.
“Yeah? Yeah? Go on- I- ngh- win- round three- heh.”
Sharp stings of pleasure buzzing all the way from your throbbing pussy to your empty head, you draaag your nails all over his sturdy forearms. Your body slicks over with sweltering perspiration, glissading you smoothly up n’ down Gojo’s sculptured body.
Gojo jostles you in his headlock to stare deeply into your eyes while he drags out your high, counting every filthy spank he was honing out. It’s not too far into your overstimulated high before his creamy tip showers your drenched insides with sprays of buttery cum.
You could hear yourself mumbling out faint nonsense with every ropey smack you felt pumped inside you, and it was as if Gojo was orgasming harder than he had his entire life.
Cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t stop - didn’t even know if he could.
And it was so weighty, too.
You could feel the soppy splosh of his sap being bubbled all up inside you, every swab of Gojo’s leaking cockhead frothing it even deeper inside. You’re swearing the bumpy outline of your tummy bulge was only being cumflated, feeling like he was glueing your very walls together.
Naturally, a few slicked gumdrops of cum ooze their way out between your teary slit. His hips jolt at the primal sight, thick seed dribbling out of you like frosting, formulating so many rings upon rings that Gojo just can’t help but admire and muse as his most favorite ones.
Shit, with a humid pop! he’s inching out just to watch the butter-covered sheen that stuck to his red shaft.
Hooded, his sapphire gaze rips away from your reflection to narrow down at you. At the way your ancient patient bed was now completely destroyed; headboard split, standing on only three feeble legs.
“Broke the bed, heh- tha’s a KO, my girl.” Gojo lets go of his headlock on you, nuzzling your cheek with his sweat-lacquered forehead whilst you still attempt to catch your breath. “Mmmm– really do love you, y’know- the fuckin’ b-best prize I could ever have.”
“I love you too–” You find your cartoonishly dazed smile directed up at him. “-Six Eyes.”
With a soft groan, he twiddles his thumb over to toy with the sticky seconds of his seed pouring out of you. Lazily.
Letting it scoop onto his fingerpads, shoving it back between your slippy lips. Repeatedly even painting a languid heart with it over your tummy bulge- before skidding the salted cream between your lips.
With a fat few fingers stuffed into your dampening maw, overflowing with glutinous saliva, you’re letting your eyes stray back to the reflection in the mirror. Blinking back your vision-
“Holy shit.” You’re gaping - at everything from the way that Gojo Satoru had seemed to gain more red, red scratches and bruises all over his arms, back, and pecs from you than in an actual fight, to the way he seemed utterly content about it. “T-Toru, I gave you more marks than Sukuna did during the Shinjuku Showdown…”
“I know.”
.
.
.
“Aaaand welcome back, folks! To the Shinjuku Showdown 2.0!”
You wince, Haibara’s commentating voice would never grow any less booming no matter how many times you sat here. Front row for yet another one of Gojo’s famed fights.
Though, you squirm in your seat, you wished he could get here sooner.
“Requested by our very own King of Curses- he’s quite a sore loser you see- oh, my mistake, Mr. Sukuna, sir. You are the underground’s most honorable fighter, of course of course.”
Ryomen Sukuna scowls even as the crows roar and yell rambunctiously around him, eyes falling on you - for the briefest, tensest second - before he tears away. Pacing around the barren ring like a tiger prowling for his prey.
Only, said prey wasn’t going down without making sure that Sukuna knew the true hierarchy here.
“FINALLY! Hereee we have our monster of Japan, Six Eyes, making his long-awaited entrance tonight! Ohhh place your bets, ladies and gentlemen, tonight is going to be goooood!”
When Gojo Satoru entered the ring, everyone knew. Everyone held their breath.
It never got old seeing his generously over six-foot figure loom menacingly towards the ring, draped in a dark blue robe of crushed velvet. Which just-so-happened to be the exact color of your matching lingerie tonight…
Usual gloves on hand, a tiny, plastic remote in hand.
You’re shivering as he twiddles it over deftly, pulling down the hiked-up hem of your nurse’s outfit. Just praying that nobody could hear the bzzz–! of that hot-pink bullet vibrator lodged inside your sloppy pussy.
Meant to be there for the entire fight.
The cutting stadium air was so tautly-pulled that you could hear every resounding thud! of his powerful footsteps as Haibara rattles off Sukuna’s introduction. Jumping swiftly and athletically over the ropes of the ring.
“And in THIS corner, we have Six Eyes, The Strongest. Some fear to speak his name. Some think he isn’t human. With a winning streak ever since he arrived here, with so many knockouts that it’s said they created a new medical term for it. Challenge him and you challenge death. The man. The myth. The nightmare-”
Then Gojo straightens-
“-a monster that can never be tamed!”
-and he lets his robe fall.
All red, angry patterns of scratches on full display for the countless rabid photographers and watchers to gawk at. Down his back, down his arms, down his pecs.
Everywhere and anywhere for the eye to see, and to see Gojo- Six Eyes of all people to be so thoroughly claimed. As if he was thrown to the wolves - someone put a hand on him?
Oh, you could hear the reporters stumbling over their questions as they screamed for answers and relationship reveals.
Though, all of them were answered once he turns straight to you. Miniscule remote calibrated to the very maximum before Gojo fucking throws it somewhere into the ringside. Even through his muzzle, you could tell he was grinning as you gasped at the lecherous vibrations pulsating to your g-spot.
Over and over whilst media personnel - realizing your connection to the most dangerous underground fighter in all of Japan - jostled you for more juicy details. Fuck- everyone was going to know about this. Everyone.
Gojo turns back to a fuming Sukuna with a quirk of his ivory brow.
“The monster has- has been tamed! Let the fight begin!”
A/N. FAWK I NEED HIM. Was this slightly inspired by all the boxing talk going on in my blog? Mayhaps.
olderbf!toji who's double your age but wears it like a badge of honor, smirking at stares when you're out together. he's all scarred muscle and salt-pepper stubble, towering over you in his beat-up leather jacket while you cling to his arm in your cute sundress. "what're they lookin' at, baby? jealous i snagged the prettiest doll in town?" he rumbles low, hand possessive on your lower back, fingers dipping just low enough to make you flush. doesn't give a fuck about the whispers—pulls you into a filthy alley kiss to prove it, growling "mine" against your lips.
olderbf!toji who teases your "youthful energy" mercilessly during lazy mornings. he wakes up to you bouncing on his morning wood, all eager and perky. "fuck—easy, kid. old man's joints ain't what they used to be." chuckles as you pout, but flips you easy—railing missionary with that stamina that proves him wrong. "still tight as a virgin. shit— gonna ruin you before breakfast."
olderbf!toji who fixes everything around the house with that handyman swagger, teaching you along the way. leaky faucet dripping at midnight? creaky door hinge driving you nuts? toji's already under the sink before you finish complaining, toolbox open on the floor, wifebeater riding up to show that scarred v-line. grease smears his forearms as he twists a wrench, grunting instructions. "c'mere, doll—hand me the pliers. yeah, like that. now tighten it slow, don't strip the threads." pulls you down onto his thigh mid-fix, steadying your hands with his massive ones, breath warm on your neck. "good girl. see? easy shit." when it's done, he tests the faucet with a satisfied nod, then hauls you up for a celebratory spin, grease smudging your cheek. "next lesson: changin' the oil. wear somethin' cute, alright?"
olderbf!toji who carries your shopping bags like it's nothing, even if they're designer hauls twice his age-appropriate style. you emerge from the mall loaded with bags; he scoops them all effortless, slinging them over one shoulder while his free arm hooks your waist. "c'mon, baby— lead the way." smirks at your blush, kissing your temple. "ain't lettin' my girl strain herself."
olderbf!toji who gets protective in public. some creep eyes you at the bar? toji's arm bands your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. "eyes up here, fucker—she's taken." later, in the truck, he hikes your skirt: "need a reminder of who owns you?" fingers you rough till you squirt on leather seats, his scar twitching smug.
olderbf!toji who loves spoiling you rotten with his bounty cash, but makes you "earn" it. he comes home with designer bags or that necklace you eyed, dumping them on the bed. "try it on—model for me." you twirl, and he's yanking you onto his lap, hands roaming. "atta girl. now ride me slow, say thank you proper." his thick fingers bruise your hips as you bounce, cock splitting you deep, whispering "this what you wanted, ain't it? so be a good girl n' take it."
How would the Monster Boyfriends/Husbands handle a darling that wants a custom dildo of their penis? Straight up a 1:1 exact copy?
Then if the darling is a woman she can have two penises up both her holes
Werewolf!boyfriend would be super into it. What do you mean you can take TWO of him? He would be drooling all over you, ready to stretch you with his tongue until you can take both knots at the same time. The idea of claiming both of your holes at once, making you feel completely stretched by him? Yes.
Vampire!boyfriend would be against it. If you want dick, you ask him for it. You don't play with a replica of him. He would be almost offended that you suggested it. You can have the real thing, why would you even want a copy? He would probably fuck you into oblivion just to make you forget about any dildo.
Dragon!boyfriend would be confused, not really understanding why you would want a replica of his dick, but he'd do anything you'd ask of him. You want a plastic replica of his dick? He would make it better, he would give you ten of them, one in each material you'd like. Diamond dragon dick? You got it. Ruby dragon dick? Perfect coloring. Marble dragon dick? He would get the best of the best to make it for you... (He really doesn't get why you wanted them, but now you have a whole collection).
Orc!boyfriend would be worried about it. Do you not want to have sex with him anymore? Do you want a custom dildo so you don't have to touch his scarred body? He would be feeling the angst, but he would comply if it would make you happy. It would take him a bit of worry and coaching to tell you the truth. You'd have to make it up to him, showing exactly how you want to fuck him, first with the dildo, and then riding him like your life depends on it.
Minotaur!boyfriend would be confused, not even aware that could be a possibility. But the second the dildo arrives and he sees you holding it, he gets it. He gets it so much he makes you sit in front of him and ride the dildo until your legs give out, just to spread you open and fuck you again and again and again with the real thing this time.
You can see other headcanons in this masterlist and can send some whenever you want (it does take me a lil bit to get to them but I always answer).
summary – after five years working for a job she hates, reader decides to apply to a position as a civilian administrative assistant for a captain in the S.A.S. what happens when her need for grounding and routine and his love for control meet?
warnings – undiscussed dom/sub relationship, age gap (reader in her mid to late twenties, price in his late thirties to early forties), self harm (nothing too graphic but heavily mentioned), blood, drinking, ocd patterns in an undiagnosed reader. reader has a weird relationship with her parents and she hates her job. non graphic smut. workplace harassment. no specific descriptions of body type, race or ethnicity, but reader is described to get bruises. all lowercase for styling purposes.
a/n – hi, hello! i vanished for three years and last night i had a horny induced urge to write for price after watching the secretary (2002). i’d love some feedback since i haven’t written anything since 2022 and it’s my first time writing for price and anything cod related. hope you guys enjoy it! dividers by @uzmacchiato
tired. you were tired. you are tired.
this is not how you imagined your twenties would be. growing up, you always thought this decade of your life would be a little glamorous. going out dancing with your friends, travelling to scenic destinations, making out with cute guys and hotter girls at parties and working at a job that would fund the life you wanted.
all you got was this lousy job as a junior lawyer at newman and mann, a firm owned by two of your parents friends. you couldn’t complain. no, scratch that, you could. yeah, the salary was great, a bit above average for your position and the benefits were good, but you never, never, wanted to be a lawyer.
you grew up with two in your home and that was enough for you to hate it. their working hours were never ending, small disagreements became huge arguments with both sides trying to prove their points and how they were better for it. and still, when the time came for you to choose what major to enroll in, you still chose a LLB.
it’s 10:30pm of a friday night and you’ve been sitting in a bath for the past forty minutes. the water has gone cold, the lavender, rosemary and bergamot salts helped ease the ache in your muscles and the half bottle of cabernet that you downed is starting to make you light headed. at some point between the second and third glass, you decided to job search.
you had reached a breaking point that afternoon. mr. williams, one of the top clients of the firm, had decided to take his frustrations at you after you explained to him that he’d have to pay close to £500,000 as a settlement for a harassment lawsuit two of his ex employees put on him.
“you worthless, brainless, stupid little girl. i know your daddy got this position for you, you could at least pretend to know something and do your job right and win this one for me.” mr. williams spat. you smiled and excused yourself, leaving the older man alone.
you were never his lawyer. otto newman, the one who had his surname in shiny letters at the door was. scream at him.
you walked to your desk with a neutral face, looking straight forward, trying to not make any eye contact knowing you would break. you see your friend kate, another junior that entered the firm the same day as you, through your peripheral and you ignore her attempts to grab your attention.
without giving a second thought, you reach for the third and last drawer of your desk, the one you haven’t touched in a while. inside lies a little black pouch with a sewing kit that you grab and put in your trousers pocket to carry it with you to the restroom. third stall to the left, the one farthest from the door and closest to the window. it’s automatic to you. your body works in a way that your brain can’t even compute.
open the door. lock the door. put the toilet lid down. take the little black pouch out of the left pocket of your trousers. pull your pants down. sit. open the pouch and the sewing kit. take the third pin, the one with the pink, round tip. stab it three times on your left thigh, three seconds apart.
you haven’t done this in a while, you haven’t needed to. therapy was helping.
you were sixteen the first time you did this. emma, your childhood best friend had a wardrobe malfunction. the strap of the blue summer dress she wore for her mother’s forty fifth birthday party snapped, and you helped her fix it. as you were finishing, the needle stabbed your thumb and the noises in your head vanished. later that day, after the party ended, you went to a utility store and bought a tiny sewing kit and a little black pouch. the ones you have till this day.
you absentmindedly rub the five centimetre bruised line on your left thigh. the pain is no longer sharp, it’s just a reminder of what you did earlier today, but it still grounds you.
you stop when you find a position that finally catches your eyes.
Title: Civilian Administrative Secretary
Reports to: [Redacted] at the S.A.S
Salary Range: £30,000
Hours: Monday through Friday 09:00 - 17:00 (FULL TIME)
Job Summary:
The S.A.S. is looking for a pro-active person with highly organizational skills to work under [redacted], to act as an administrative assistant.
This position is responsible for communicating with other military leaderships and agencies, writing e-mails, answering phone calls and monitoring access into the facility.
This is a civilian female only position.
Pay: £30,000/year
Schedule: Monday through Friday, 09:00 - 17:00
Benefits:
- Health/Dental/Vision Insurance;
- Paid time off;
- Paid 30 minute lunch break;
- Bonuses for performance
Responsibilities:
- Write e-mails;
- Answer phone calls;
- Maintain office supplies and inventory;
- Assist with financial tasks such as payment processing;
- Perform general clerical duties such as filing, scanning, and data entry;
- Translate documents.
Needed Knowledge:
- Ability to prioritize tasks and accomplish them in a detailed, timely manner;
- Proficient in Microsoft Office Suite (Word, Excel, Outlook);
- Excellent communication and interpersonal skills;
- Ability to work in high-energy, loud, and active settings;
- Bilingual.
Requirements:
- 2 years experience in an office, receptionist, secretary, or similar setting is preferred;
- Must be able to pass a legal background check and drug screening;
- 21 years and over preferred;
- High school diploma, some college preferred.
Ability to commute/relocate:
- Credenhill, Herefordshire: Reliably commute or planning to relocate before starting work
Location: In person
perfect. the position is perfect. well, almost perfect.
the compensation is a bit less than what you make today, but you do have some money that you’ve put away in savings for the past five years you’ve worked and not lived a life. the benefits were good, not that different from what you have today and the work load was easy, simple. it isn’t far from where you live and you could commute, no need to take your car and stress yourself with the traffic. you’re not very fond that it’s a job in the military, having your own reservations about what they do, but fuck it. get in, do your job, get out and have a life. one thing you do like about them is how strict they are about their hours.
not giving a second thought, you send your application in. a perfectly curated CV with all your information and accomplishments, and a pristine cover letter to present yourself.
less than five minutes pass and your telephone pings with a notification. one from captain jonathan price from the S.A.S.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: 10 Oct 2025 at 10:45pm
Ms,
I’ve just received your application to our position as a Civilian Administrative Assistant. Your CV caught my eye and, if it really is of your interest, I’d like to schedule a meeting with you this monday (13/Oct) at 1100, if possible, to discuss the position.
Best Regards,
Cpt. Johnathan Price
someone is desperate, you thought. who the fuck would be answering application e-mails at this hour on a friday. you try not to think too much about working over hours, you were applying for this position because you knew, from acquaintances, that they followed their hours properly over there. but you reply to him anyway, tell him that you’re interested in the position and that the date and hour he set for the interview is fine (screw otto, you are taking the day off. you have enough hours to take the month off if you wanted to). seconds pass by and captain jonathan price returns with a google calendar alert and instructions on how to enter the base and find his office, before wishing you a safe weekend.
monday comes by faster than you expected. the weekend passing as a blur since, for the first time in ages, you finally had some fun.
on saturday, you and emma went out to a new club she had been talking about, got drunk and made out with some guys you met at the line. they were cute, hot, but nothing you’d entertain outside of the club.
emma slept over and on sunday, you guys had a spa day: everything showers, shaving your bodies like you were going to see your favourite band and hopefully get some from the cute drummer, painting your nails, skin care, perfecting the homemade blowouts you learned from a tiktok tutorial and eating all of your favourite foods and snacks.
when you told emma what you were doing on monday, the reaction you got was not what you expected. she asked you if you told your parents, to which you replied “god, fuck no. i’m only telling them if i do get the position.” she nodded, agreeing with you and wished you good luck, telling you how you deserved better, that you haven’t been yourself in a long time and that she could see how that place was draining you, and finished off with a “i know we don’t go there, but maybe you’ll find a hot military lad that will blow your back so hard it rewires your brain.”
part of you hoped so too.
getting on the base was easier than you thought. the commute was fast, not over 20 minutes, your name and id number already at the gate and a private to escort you to captain price’s office, telling you that he’s in a meeting, but that you can wait at the reception just outside of his office and captain price himself will call you in as soon as he’s available.
about ten minutes later, the door opens and four men walk outside. the first one to come out sports a blue ball cap, beautiful chestnut skin, he’s tall, not as built as the others, but with still a good amount of muscles on him. he looks like a prince, you think, and wonder what a guy like him does in the army.
the next one is probably around his height, maybe a few centimetres taller, the kind of beauty that screams womaniser. he sports a funny mohawk, a beard that is a couple of days old and a glint to his eyes that tells you he’s the troublemaker.
the third one… well, the third one is the kind of guy you’d probably make a fool of yourself if you ever met him outside. you can’t see his face, clad in a balaclavaesque mask that only shows brown eyes with the faint remains of eyeblack. he’s tall, taller than all of the other men, built like a gladiator but still with some softness in him and tattoos on his arm that makes you want to look closer. even without showing his face, you know he’s handsome. there’s just an aura to him.
the three men pass by you, give you nods and a chorus of “good morning” mixed with a grunt that you know it came from the balaclava guy.
one of the four men stays at the door and you assume that’s captain jonathan price. it stuns you, as he’s nothing like you expected. in your mind, the man who – maybe – would be your new boss was around his fifties or sixties, shorter, kind of grandpa like. the man in front of you is… gorgeous. that’s the best way you can describe him. tall, crystal blue eyes, dark, short hair, but still lengthy enough that you could run your fingers through it. a thick beard with a thicker mustache, a bit salt and peppery, and strong arms with really, really nice hands. probably in his late thirties, early forties.
captain price looks at you with an indescribable feeling in his eyes. a few seconds pass by and he calls your name and asks you to come in.
price doesn’t know what possesses him to answer your application e-mail so late on a friday night. he’s tired from a mission, body sore from too many punches from his enemies and kicks from his guns. thankfully, it was another successful one, no man of his got hurt and the hostages were saved with minor injuries.
he tried to sleep, he really did, but the adrenaline still coursing through his veins mixed with the noise of the airplane engine kept him awake, so he decided to catch up with work.
he had been asking for an assistant for a very long time. price didn’t need much, just someone who would help him with paperwork and menial, everyday tasks that took his precious time from more important stuff. the position had been opened earlier that friday and he had received a few e-mails – and to make it clear, very much against what his superiors advised. he wanted to be the one to choose who was going to work with him, and not that weird bloke from HR – all of them very similar. women, in their early twenties, looking for a first job or with some little experience that could be of use. e-mails that he decided he would be answering back on monday morning.
as he was about to block his phone to try and get some much needed sleep, his phone pings with your e-mail and price decides to give it a look.
your e-mail is so well formatted that he reads it twice before opening your CV file. the content of the document shocks price. a lawyer from a firm he has heard of and knows it’s expensive, a LLB from oxford, speaks more languages than what he would ever dream of speaking and proficiency in systems he has never heard of. he does something he never did in his life and searches for your linkedin profile, only to get even more confused with what he sees: a beautiful woman in her mid to late twenties, several cases and awards won, praised by colleagues and superiors alike and a way with words he hadn’t seen in a long time.
he decides to reply to your e-mail instantly, carefully writing his message, afraid he might sound dumb, “you’re a captain, for fucks sake” he scolds himself. price does it more out of morbid curiosity, highly doubting someone like you would accept a secretary position. he’s even more shocked when you reply within seconds, agreeing with the date and time propositioned.
john puts some music on and sleep comes surprisingly fast after his last message sent.
price calls you, by name and last name. the words feeling sweet on his tongue. he ignores the feeling and introduces himself, “captain jonathan price. you can call me price or john, which one you prefer.”
you nod and smile, and the way “price” rolls off your lips makes his fingertips tingle.
john lets him take a look at you before he sits down. trousers that seemed tailored to your body, a button down blouse that fits you well and leave just enough of cleavage out to be tasteful, shoes that look as expensive as your perfume smells, hair so well combed that not one frizz is out of place and the most perfectly manicured nails, a deep maroon that made his tummy feel funny.
he knows you earn more than the S.A.S is willing to pay and the question as to what you are doing here is louder and louder in his head, but the noise is abruptly cut by the smile you give him as he sits down, and the tingles he felt on his fingertips travel all the way to his stomach.
“ms.,” he says your last name “thank you for sharing some of your time today with me. the position of civil administrative assistant is a secretary position, you understand that?”
you nod and answer with a simple “yes.”
price cleans his throat before continuing, “your resumé is very impressive and i see that you’ve been working with newman and mann since you’re an intern and now you’re a junior lawyer there.” you nod once again, so calmly price thinks this is a joke. he plays with the ends of the printed paper, studying you a bit. price sighs and lays the paper down on his desk, before continuing “ok, i got to ask, you’re lawyer, a very good one from what i’ve seen. over thirty cases won the past five years, an award for best junior lawyer in 2024. you seem like a very successful woman, do you want to leave your job?”
“yes.”
“why?” price asks, the tone of his voice incredulous.
“oh, i hate it there. i hate being a lawyer.”
john snorts and laughs at how casual and truthful you sound and goes “how does one become so successful in something they hate?”
“well, i know i’m smart and that i’m good at everything i intend to do. i don’t half arse anything, even if i hate it.”
price smiles at that and keeps questioning you, how many languages do you speak (he is shocked when you confirm it’s five, english, spanish, portuguese, italian and arabic. he knows it will be very useful), asks about accomplishments and the hardest cases you had to deal with, asks if you can do anything of what the position asks (he knows you can, of course you can, but he asks anyway) and he’s so mesmerised by you that he finally asks “are you sure you want this position?”
“yes, sir.” you tell him with the same smile you gave him at the beginning.
price nods, considers it again and goes “alright, when can you start?”
it has been almost a month since you’ve started working with price. a month where he didn’t have to worry about phone calls, unimportant e-mails and people getting into his office unannounced. twenty eight blissful days where he could finally focus his attention on the mission laswell dumped on his hands.
someone, somewhere between the mountains of iran kidnapped the wife and child of a saudi sheik, and both countries were threatening each other with nuclear weapons and the CIA decided they had to intervene. things went south and laswell asked the task force 141 for help.
as for your work, john can’t complain. you always arrive on time, as matter of fact, you arrive at least fifteen minutes early just to make a fresh pot of coffee and tea. your e-mails are flawlessly written and you always have a pep in your voice when picking up phone calls, his superiors and subordinates always telling him what a lovely girl you are, how lucky he got with his assistant.
his schedule has never been this well organised before, long gone are the overlapped meetings and conversations wrongfully scheduled to the days he was out on missions. the files of old mission reports that once crowded his office are now catalogued in the archive, separated by year and region. your desk is so neatly organised that he’s ashamed of his own.
he has never seen someone as methodical as you. but as much as it was your grand differential, being methodical was your downfall.
the first time he noticed something different with you was on your second day. you wore a white button down with a black pencil skirt that didn’t leave much to price’s imagination. it was your lunch break and he saw you sitting on a couch in one of the common areas. you were so entertained by the book you read that you didn’t notice that your skirt rode up your thighs when you crossed them, showing three, vertically aligned, faint bruises on your left thigh.
the second time was on your fifteenth day. johnny barged into price’s office much to your protests, repeatedly telling him that he was in an important call with colonel alejandro vargas and that he wished to not be disturbed. one scream match later, a dejected soap comes out of price’s office and waits for the meeting to end. the sargent noticed how you kept playing with the skin of your thumb, picking the cuticle. johnny is long gone when you finally give in to your bad ritual. it happens all so fast that you aren’t even gone for five minutes. restroom. third stall to the left. third pin with the pink, round tip. three little stabs, vertically aligned, done three seconds apart from each other on your left thigh. this time on the inside.
when you get back to your workspace, price is standing by your desk with the cup of tea he knew you liked to drink towards the end of the shift. he notices when you wince as you walk, hand rubbing your left thigh through your trousers, and the little black pouch on your hand. his face is as blank as it can be and he waits for you to sit down and set the mug in front of you.
“drink.” he says with a stern voice. price comes back to his office and you don’t talk to each other until the next shift.
today is the third time john sees your resolve falter. simon, actually, ghost is talking to you with that dark voice he gets when he’s pissed. it’s not even 11a.m and the mancunian man is spitting something about how you messed up the order for ammunition for the next mission. price comes in right as you are up on ghost’s face with the form he had signed off. your voice never breaks, the way you stand up to the much bigger man makes price proud. ghost finally sees he’s the one that messed up and apologises, tells you he’ll find a way to correct the order. john sees the way you deflate when simon leaves the room, and go straight for the little black pouch tucked away on the third drawer of your desk.
it’s almost 04:00p.m. when price calls you into his office. sitting on his chair, he asks you to the take box of files he was consulting back to the archives. you bend down in front of his desk to grab the box, your ass perfectly hugged by the tight navy blue skit. price gives you an once over, and catches the back slit of your skirt betraying you: three little butterfly bandages on the back of your thigh, one of them stained with fresh blood and the surrounding area turning purple.
price immediately calls your name and orders you to sit on the chair by his desk. you do as told and he sits the chair by your side, swiftly turning yours to look you straight in the eye.
his hand slowly caress you from your left calf to your thigh, fingers tracing the bandages. price applies a gentle pressure to the wounds when he sees your breath catch in your throat, making you moan.
he holds your chin and tucks a stray strand of hair as he says “i know about your sewing kit and i know what you do. once you get out of this office, you’re going to grab it and throw it away. i don’t want to see or hear anything about you hurting yourself again, do you understand, sweetheart?”
“yes, sir.” you nod.
“good.” price murmurs as he runs his thumb along your cheek. “it’s a slow day, you can leave now but you’re not commuting. i want you to walk home and breathe some fresh air, you need it. on the way home, you’re going to get your favourite pint of ice cream and eat as much as you want, ok?”
“yes, sir.” you reply, voice barely above a whisper.
price smiles at you, run his long fingers through your hair and stands up. before you do the same, he gently kisses your forehead and whispers “good girl.”
part 2
domesticblisss 2025. comments and reblogs are appreciated.
Imagine fat!reader being the secretary of the 141, and overhearing the guys chat, right?
"So, what do you think of the new secretary?" You hear Kyle's voice float through the briefing room connected to the extra file storage you're rummaging in. You know you shouldn't listen but...they're always so nice, and you're curious what they think.
"The fat one?" Is the first thing out of ghosts mouth, and it makes your stomach drop.
Of course. What were you thinking. You silently grab your files and make to leave, but catch ghost adding "cute thing, that one. Fuckin' hard to talk to without gettin' bricked."
What.
"Seriously, ghost?" Soap laughs, his chair creaking "i mean, me too, but just from talkin? That's sad, man."
"Can't help it. Not with that fuckin' tummy," he sighs dreamily, as if your fat stomach is the kind of thing he sees in his fantasies. "An' those thighs, soap. The things I'd do to get my mouth on them, mark 'em up..."
Oh god. That is not what you expected to hear. You should leave. This is definitely an invasion of privacy but...it's about you, so it should be fine, right?
"And that chest, gaz, perfect fuckin' tits. Wanna rub my cum into them." The image makes your face burn red hot, stomach turning in arousal at the thought of ghost jerking off onto your chest.
"You're depraved, ghost," gaz mutters at the same time soap replies "good on you, lad,"
...you should definitely leave before your knees give out.
You refuse to meet ghosts eyes for the rest of the week, though he doesn't know why gaz keeps throwing you knowing glances. Fuck.
Synopsis. Every specimen: the hot nerd that tutors you, his punk best friend, the pink-haired frat president, the sensible history professor, the emo boy with 11 inches, the buff campus security! They have only one thing in common—bréeding you.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader, Geto Suguru x Reader, Ryomen Sukuna x Reader, Nanami Kento x Reader, Choso Kamo x Reader, Toji Fushiguro x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, college AU, nerd!Gojo, punk!Geto, frat boy!Sukuna, professor!Nanami, emo boy!Choso, security guard!Toji, ALL of the JJK men (at once), f/m/m/m/m/m/m, ovuIation, BRÉEDING, mentions of having kids, oraI (fem + maIe rec.) handj’s, fíngering, manhandIing, HEADLOCKS, biiig stretches, spítting, chokíng, p talking, rough s, restraints, they’re FÉRAL, Geto with piercings, Choso with piercings, making Gojo whímper, first times (Gojo), everyone penetrates at some point, D descriptions, big D’s. dírty taIk, voyéurism, running from it, bickering during it, EiffeI tower, DP, DÚMBlFICATlON, MAJOR overstím, anaI pIay, matíng presses, fuIl neIsons, cervíx kíssing, lessons, waIked in on, SLOPPY s, slight exhíbitíonism, creampíes (like a lot), cúmpIay, cúmfIation, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 20.4k
A/N. Happy new year!!
“—thus, during this stage of ovulation it is natural to experience a surge in the luteinizing hormone (LH), which heightens the desire to…” Gojo trails off.
You’re looking up from your notes, just in time to catch him pushing his glasses up his ruddied face. Hands shaking. Breaths heavy. You tilt your head in confusion, “Which heightens the desire to what, Satoru?”
“You know…”
You’re shaking your head with a laugh, “Isn’t that why I begged you to become my tutor?”
“It increases the desire for ah…an interplay of intimacy from which…blossoms the natural by-product of a…um—” His voice cracks. And seeing your look of concern, Gojo lets out a stabilizing breath and tries again, “The…the birds and the bees?”
“Ah!” Stifling a giggle, “You mean it heightens the desire to get pregnant.”
And you take your sweet, sweet time jotting it down in your notes - long enough that Gojo Satoru hopefully calms down-
“…Do you feel it?”
“What?”
“Do you feel the desire to get pregnant?”
The pen clatters out of your hand.
“W-wait, I’ll get it!” Gojo stammers out, disappearing beneath the long library table before you can say anything. His head of angelic white hair contrasts against the sleek mahogany, so at odds with the devilish question that’d just left his mouth - so perhaps it was only so fitting that when Gojo sunk in to get your pen…you could feel his soft hair graaaaaze against your thigh-
You shiver- sweeping a look around at the bored university students to make sure that nobody saw. Or overheard.
And in the next second, he’s coming back up.
“I believe this is yours.” Gojo’s lips tremble in shyness, flushed as if you’d just thrown him into a furnace. He holds the pen out gingerly towards you, which you take - along with a moment to inspect him. Admire him, more like.
Gojo Satoru.
Human Calculator.
A++ being the lowest grade he’d ever gotten.
Pigs would fly before he didn’t take the #1 spot on the Dean’s List.
It didn’t need to be said that Gojo Satoru was one of the sharpest minds on campus - yes, perhaps even amongst the professors. For you’d seen Yaga hold him back after class on more than one occasion to become marvelled by his physics thesis.
But that wasn’t where the problem lay.
The problem lay in the fact that not only was Gojo one of the smartest men you’ve ever met - but he was one of the cutest, too. That snow-white hair and ice-blue eyes made it impossible not to spot him amongst a crowd - always a few heads taller than everyone else, always crushing some textbook to his chest.
Thick glasses. Fast steps.
He nervously avoided eye contact in the hallways, and it’d taken you multiple tries to successfully tap at his shoulder and get his attention. Earlier in the semester, you’d pleaded your case to Gojo about how you’d been getting absolutely abysmal grades in Yaga’s class lately. After that it’d only taken you a little poking and prodding (‘do it for the love of science!’) to successfully convince the nerdy boy to tutor you once a week.
Though he was blushing and fidgeting throughout the entire interaction…
The tutoring became a routine. The routine became a rhythm. The rhythm became a relationship that you’d honestly consider to be good friends.
Through these sessions you discovered that Gojo became rather talkative when he wanted to be, rather sweet, rather funny. And you weren’t blind to his good looks either, of course…In less than a semester’s time, you reached one of the top five spots in Yaga’s class. Despite that, the two of you continued your little tutoring sessions in your back corner of the library every week like normal.
Well, normal except for right now-
“Thank you.” You’re belatedly saying, gesturing at the pen.
To which Gojo scratches behind his neck sheepishly, “It’s no problem, of course!” He flushes even deeper the moment you turn your eyes towards him, looking as though he wished to sink into the light blue ocean of his sweater. “And about what I said earlier-” His pale brows scrunch together in a way that made him look adorably pleading. “-forget about it. Forget I ever asked something so-”
“I do.”
He snaps his azure eyes towards you at your interruption, twinkling behind his glasses. “P-pardon?”
“What you asked me.” You’re leaning over the table, the neckline of your shirt dipping juuust a tad—and you watch as Gojo gulps when his eyes flicker down. Unable to help himself. “I do feel the desire to get fucked pregnant sometimes.”
Gojo flinches at the way you’d worded it, prominent Adam’s apple bobbing. “Sometimes?”
“Sometimes when I ovulate. Sometimes just in general on those late nights, I guess.” Your eyes hone in on the squirming man, “Though that depends on who I’m thinking of at the time.”
“Thinking of who’d be the-”
“The father, yes.”
Pushing his glasses up with jittery hands. “And have you ever thought of…” His question trails off, voice sounding as parched as if he’d just run several marathons in the scorching heat. And he was burning up just as much.
You cock your head to the side, “You?” He jolts at the mere word.
Only nodding.
“Would you be upset if I said yes?”
Only shaking his head.
And then Gojo mutters something underneath this breath that you don’t quite pick up on.
“What was that, Satoru?”
When Gojo looks at you once more, you notice that his eyes are blown wide. Dazed. Daydreaming. Beads of perspiration form on his upper lip as he stutters, voice oddly high. “I said- you’re set to ovulate in about t-two to three days from now.” Your mouth drops a little—didn’t that lil’ app on your phone say the same thing just yesterday? How did he know? Under the table, Gojo’s knuckles were pure white and gripping his knees. “I ah- one time you were late to a session because of your cramps. And ever since then I always sort of…kept track, you see.”
Your eyes widen- so that was how Gojo always somehow knew to sneak your favorite sugary treats into the library on the days of your period. You did begin to wonder…
“I…I see.”
“You see.”
You cock your head at him, “And do men feel the same desire?”
He whispers, “Depending on the person…”
“Do you?”
“Yes.” Like the most sinful confession.
Without a word you’re reaching out and tugging his notebook towards you. His breath hitches as he watches you flip between pages of neat handwriting - lessons curated just for you - before pausing at the very end of it.
You’re biting back a smile at the way he’d scribbled your name over and over on the last page, hearts doodled around each one. You write—-The pregnancy list.
1. Gojo Satoru.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“Every good experiment has an apparatus list.” You’re looking up at Gojo with a sly smile, “You taught me that.”
Certainly not like this. “I did, but-” He looks around as though someone in the library would walk by and see what you’re writing.
“And every good experiment has material considerations, too, right?”
“W-well, yes, but…”
You continue to write.
1. Gojo Satoru.
Super cute
Probably a big D
Secret freak (tracked ovulation!??)
However has no experience (not quite a con?) and no place to fuck in (single bed + has a roommate, Geto)
“Hmm, how do you feel about being the independent variable?” You tap your pen on your chin.
Gojo whips his confused blue eyes towards you, a tiny furrow between his white brows. “What do you…”
“The independent variable.” Just in time, you’re looking up to catch the sight of a certain black-haired man entering the library. And you know who it is instantly - there was no man quite as pretty as him on campus. Handsome, sure. But this pretty? It was your best friend, someone you’d met in your first year and knew even before you knew Gojo. “Just like you’re tutoring me now, Satoru, haven’t you ever thought of someone-” His silver piercings glinting in the daylight. His stylishly tattered Sex Pistols t-shirt showing off toned skin. His lips stretching into a feline grin as he spots the two of you. “-tutoring you?”
Something electric runs down Gojo’s body, and he’s just about to turn and look behind when-
Geto Suguru throws an arm over his best friend’s shoulders and tackles him into a headlock, winking at you. “Hard at work, gorgeous?”
You nod, because the one thing about lists was that when you started one—you just wanted to keep on adding to it.
2. Geto Suguru.
Fucking PRETTY
Rings
In a band
Already super close friends. Two in one go??
.
.
.
SUGONDEEZNUTS created a groupchat.
SUGONDEEZNUTS added Gojo Satoru.
SUGONDEEZNUTS added you.
SUGONDEEZNUTS named the groupchat ‘Juno, y’know?’
SUGONDEEZNUTS: Yo, sorted a place big enough for us~
SUGONDEEZNUTS: 8PM.
SUGONDEEZNUTS added RyomenTheK!ng.
.
.
.
“C-could you keep your panties on, sweetheart?” Gojo blushes as he stutters out the words. He’s looking down between your legs and slidin’ a thumb between your pussylips, collecting the slick syrup gathered on top of your light blue underwear.
You raise a brow, “I didn’t think you’d be the type to have a panty fetish, Satoru.” Maybe you were right about him secretly being a freak…
“It’s just- they’re the same color as my eyes.” Those very same blue irises peak out at you above the rim of his glasses, partially fogged with condensation. “M-makes me think that we’re having…a boy in nine months or something like that. Maybe twins. A boy and a girl?”
Your jaw drops, “Oh-”
And it’s the only noise you’re managing to get out before Gojo slots his pretty pink cockhead between your legs. Just letting the thick curvature of it press aside your pussy’s folds before he’s rutting—like an animal.
Gojo was just painfully hard already, swollen with need, bursting out in bouts of precum that left your thighs all wet. He was just so excited—he’d damn near cried once he managed to get you sprawled out on a bed that wasn’t yours. One of his doughy pink thumbs swipin’ your underwear to the side and getting a goooood long look at that pussy of yours-
“N-ngh—” His eyes fall shut, entire body shuddering at the sensation of your pussy throb-throb-throbbing away beneath him. Erection sliding down your front. Sandwiched by your cunt. Gojo Satoru - always so eloquent, always so intelligent with his words - can only heave his body forward and whimper- “S-scientifically, the presence of your panties won’t be a haaah- limitation in me breeding your pussy, right?”
“What are you even asking…” You’re blinking up at him, “Satoru, you’re not seriously that pussydrunk, are y-”
“Oh look…” Gojo’s eyes widen as he watches a webbed line of his own precum slide down your slit, and that only leaves his sharp mind racing. “Scientifically, can your pussy talk, sweetheart? Because your unica mucosa vaginae is sounding like she wants me already.”
And then follows the utterly sloppiest squelch as Gojo pushes his thickened tip at your sensitive hole and starts to puuuush—
Your cute tutor had been the first one to take off his boxers - and it really was true what they say about nerdy boys being…bigger.
He was about nine entire inches, and the most adorable rosy pink at his tip - one that matched the blush on his face. Only growing more and more, thicker and thicker, every time he was swipin’ his velvety shaft between your folds and trying to fit inside.
Pushing and pushing.
Stretching out your quivering orifice.
Gojo was just so sensitive—you’d asked him earlier whether this was his first time, and the nerdy boy had only blushed and mumbled something incoherent. Though his cap of precum that just kept on pouring out told you everything you needed to know - even now he was squeezing just the barest inch of his tip into your hole and groaning. Twitching.
“O-oh—” His pre-glossed tip slips out of your hole and slides-slides down the middle of your pussylips, “Fuck- I need at least the urethral meatus inside to successfully breed you, sweetheart. N-need to be inside your pussy…”
“You really wanna knock me up, huh?” You’re whining out.
“So badly.” Almost shyly. Gojo can only let a dopey smile stretch across his lips at the notion, sounding out-of-breath already. He’s keeping his thumb hooked on your panties, urging his hips closer with the most sinful sounds. “S-soooo fucking badly.”
Just draaaaawling out his agonizing groan as he shovels his thickened shaft between your pussylips. Without warning, he’s then pressing both hands upon either side of your legs, pushing them even wider open.
You yelp, “Satoru-”
And then with you pinned down to the mattress, Gojo reels his slender hips back to thrust and thrust his raging hot cock into your pussy. “Gonna fuck you now…” The globular red edge of his shaft kisses your entrance and starts stretching the first resistance of your hole. Starts bending his curvaceous inches inside you. “Gonna fill the introitus- fill her up with my cock.” Starts making your walls immediately clench at the sudden intrusion.
His jaw falls slightly apart at the feeling of being sucked inside by you, your slick orifice plugged up with his length. “Gonna fill her up with my kid—” Just letting his furious cock get one taste.
One of his inches pushed inside your cunt.
Just one.
Before Gojo’s throwing his head back with a cracked wh-whimper.
Before his entire body shudders.
Before his entire cock seems to zap with a carnal electricity.
And you’re feeling the hot sensation of something slatherin’ at your pussylips, raising onto your elbows to look between your legs. And the sight you’re seeing- fuck, it’s a pure white mess at your core and puddling onto the expensive silk sheets below.
He was cumming.
Just from that.
Your eyes widen, “Satoru, you’re already-”
“Fuck.” Gojo breathes out, head now pushing into the crook of your neck. Something warm and wet falls on top of your skin- and only then do you realize that Gojo Satoru was sobbing at the mere feeling of your pussy surrounding his cock. “F-fuck, I can’t believe…”
His creamy cum was spilling out in surges, drawing vertical lines between the crevice of your pussy in some lecherous pattern. Incessantly. Hotly. He’s webbing up your puffy folds and thumpin’ his rotund tip between your cunt to smear them. Lines upon lines. Layers upon layers.
Like he couldn’t stop himself no matter how urgently he’s reaching a hand up to squeeze at his thickened base. “Sh-shit, s’not stopping.” The nerdy man babbles away, white-knuckling at his swollen cock in order to try and plug himself up - but it doesn’t work. He’s even pulling back a bit to move his thumb on top of his leaky divot. And he’s still not stopping. “Shit, I can’t control myself. Your tunica mucosa- your pussy just feels too good.”
“You’re s-still cumming…” You whine.
“Too good.”
He’s just dribbling out hot cum, creating an ivory gloss over your folds that drips around your thighs.
Gojo feels the wetness of it seep into his abs and pulls away from your neck, looking up at you with his teary gaze. He snaps his eyes down to the white sap that smears out of you and moans. Voice cracking at the back of his throat any time he’s shoving his honed hips between yours. “C-can I go again to your womb this time, my girl?”
You’re just about to open your mouth to answer when-
“Now now, Satoru…”
“Yer fucked if you think you’re getting her all night.” A familiar, gruff tone spits. “Especially after that embarrassment of a performance.”
You’re turning your head to the side of the bed - to the two men that watched from chairs facing the bed.
Geto Suguru.
Ryomen Sukuna.
3. Ryomen Sukuna.
Frat boy™ (leader of Curses Epsilon)
Probably REALLY good in bed
On his way to become a pro wrestler (headlocks omg??)
Might be rough…
Ryomen Sukuna had just gotten off from practice when Geto had called him.
And he can’t lie - he hadn’t exactly felt like answering the phone then. The two weren’t exactly what you’d consider friends, but neither were they not friends. Sukuna kept his circle close, you see—only his brother, his nephew.
Though recently there had been the development of a certain little someone. Sukuna had noticed you at one of his wrestling matches by chance, and ever since then it seems that he couldn’t stop noticing you. At his parties. At their fundraisers. At lecture halls that Sukuna purposefully took the long route to pass by - just to get a glimpse of you.
And he’d been considering asking you to be Curses Epsilon’s sweetheart, but that was neither here nor there!
Geto Suguru wasn’t someone that Sukuna would dub himself acquainted with to even that extent. His rock band sometimes performed at the infamous parties Sukuna threw, and it wasn’t really usual for him to call Sukuna outside of this.
But fuck was he glad he’d picked up the phone that day.
Because that was what got him here with you.
Snuck into his frat house. Laid out on his king-sized bed.
Your eyes locked with his—
Sukuna’s cock throbs between his legs at the ruined expression on your face, and he’s immediately feeling a rush of jealousy at the white-haired man. Snapping his narrowed gaze to the other, “Such a pretty gal begging for you ta breed her and you embarrass yerself like this?”
“Sh-she just feels too good.” Gojo lovingly gazes at your overspilling cunt. Before looking at the frat president again, “You wouldn’t understand.”
Sukuna hates this man even more.
“O—okay, how about we don’t look like we’re gonna beat each other up, hm?” Geto’s silky tone breaks through the saturated air, and you’re squirming at the way his rings glint in the dim lighting.
He’s noticing the slight movement instantly, gaze flicking between you and his fingers. Realization splashes across his face, and the next time he speaks it’s with his voice dipped just a bit. “Oh, you’re a naughty girl, aren’t you? But you want that pussy to be treated like a princess?”
Gojo gapes as you nod, “M-maybe…”
“No need to be shy, gorgeous.” Geto hums, drawing even closer to you. “We’re all friends here.”
The mattress dips just a little bit as he sits down on the edge of the bed, his ringed fingers reaching out and dragging across the sheen of white covering your calves by now.
Geto lets the slick coating form on his fingers, smearing it on the tips of his digits. “Mmm, what a waste. Don’t you know that a princess is supposed to orgasm before she’s pumped full of cum, Satoru?” Tutting.
Somehow, you always did think that your closest friend would be the type to drag sex out for hours. To drive you numb with pleasure, to be so sweet—at least, his words were.
And even Gojo seemed to be quietening down his grumbling to listen, the only other sounds in the air being the plapping! of him still trying to rover his blushin’ cocktip even deeper. “W-well…”
“And don’t you know that a princess is supposed to be teased before she’s fucked?” His amethyst eyes seem to glow with amusement, and something else. Something…darker. “You’ve gotta make her cry first.”
Oh.
A primal shudder rips right through you.
Not sweet. Definitely not sweet.
You’re whining after his elongated syllables, “Please-” Tears spurting up to your eyes when Geto forcefully grabs ahold of Gojo’s slender hips and bodily pulls him backwards. Both hands positioned on the other man’s hips, keeping his throbbing cock warming inside your walls for a few seconds before puuuuuushing inside you again. He manages to fill you up in a way like you’ve never been before, his smooth shaft filling your every orifice. “P-please, Satoru-”
“Like that.” Geto hums, “Hard. Long.”
And Gojo gapes at the way you seem absolutely ruined beneath him, “I didn’t even realize…”
“Mhmm, at this rate we’re never getting her pregnant.” Geto rolls his murky eyes, nails digging into Gojo’s hips once more. “Now more.”
“What?”
“Move.”
Your lashes flutter open at the way the long-haired man commands the other.
Geto’s tone was just so steely, and all it takes is a single word to make Gojo Satoru pull out of you. His long cock bobbing between his meaty thighs, tuggin’ out with the most lecherous squelch!
A wadded up web of cum follows him as he does so, connecting his irritated tip to your cunt still. Just red-hot and drippin’ with your slick syrup. At the sight of it, Gojo looks as if he already regrets his decision - but moves over to let Geto take his place anyway.
And both roughened hands - much, much rougher than Gojo’s, with so many years of training those fingers in his punk-rock band - press-press-preeeeeess your jittery thighs open. Firm. Unyielding, even as you whine at the stretch. Geto’s throwing his silky hair over his shoulder, sinking onto the carpeted floor at the foot of the bed.
His knees hit it with two loud thuds!
“And what’d you think you’re doing up there, hm?” In an almost bored tone, Geto raises a brow at his best friend seated still on the bed. In a split-second, he’s grabbing onto the back of Gojo’s flushed neck and dragging him down onto the floor as well.
Side by side.
Gojo yelps as he’s brought ever-closer to your open legs. “What do you think you’re-”
“Teaching you how to eat a pussy properly, duh.” As if it should be obvious, Geto rolls his eyes. “This pretty princess deserves better than your sloppy self.”
With your elbows resting on the springy mattress, you peer over at the two men who nudged their faces closer to your drippin’ wet pussy. Both their eyes gleaming in excitement the nearer they were- it’s almost as if they were fighting for purchase between there.
Each one lightly shoving the other-
“Spit on her pussy, Satoru.” Geto’s sing-song voice was dark.
Gojo’s eyes widen, “Wh-what do you-”
“Spit. On. Her. Pussy.” Geto throws his long locks over his shoulder and smiles, “Right into her pretty hole- but if you make a mess that’s even better.”
“Why would I wanna make a mess?” Gojo huffs, nose crinkling cutely.
“Virgin.” Geto titters.
The blue-eyed man looks up to meet your eyes- and flushes. Puckering his lips up nervously, they tremble just a little as he somehow drips out a line of slick on top of your cunt.
And Geto only looks down to appraise the mess he’s made, his chunkily ringed fingers swirlin’ the glaze with the front of his thumb. “Mm, I could’ve done better.”
They were both so fucking hard.
Geto turns back to you now, eagerly waiting. “See this tongue, gorgeous?” Unhinging his jaw, he lets his loooong and lavish tastebuds stick out for you to see. Slicked with watery saliva. Studded with a silver tongue piercing in the middle of it. “See it? S’what I’m gonna ruin you with- watch and learn, Satoru. Watch and learn…”
And you’re hearing it before you’re feeling it. Seeing it.
The slurp of Geto’s slick tongue shoving between your sultry folds - just lengthy lines licked back and forth on your slit. He doesn’t speed up. He doesn’t act ravenous. Lingering his orbed piercing against every spot he can reach inside of you- no matter how much you’re restlessly squirming above him, he doesn’t go harder. Just light and fleeting.
Rubbing his ridged tastebuds against every orifice, sucking up Gojo’s ivory sap, letting his tongue juuuuust fill up your tight hole before fishing out-
Making the other man balk, “H-hey!” His best friend was just making a mess of you, with his tongue lappin’ over the coats of cum that he’d poured out on your cunt. “That’s not fair- the seminal fluid is supposed to go inside the vaginal canal in order for internal fertilization to-”
Geto lazily cracks open an eye at him.
Before grabbing Gojo by the back of his throat and shoving him nose-deep into your cunt as well.
“Then do something about it.” He smiles.
Both of them had their greedy mouths open against your pussy.
Tongues flopping out and thrashin’ maddeningly against your cunt - Gojo’s a little longer than Geto’s, but Geto’s with his frigid piercing in the middle that scraped into your every orifice. It’s as if you were suddenly surrounded by the ridged texture of their tastebuds, until you couldn’t tell which one was which. Every sweet spot. Every fold. Dual tips aching to claim every inch of you.
And while Geto slipped against your clit, Gojo was just craving to stuff his tongue inside your hole-
“Ngh—” His nose crinkles cutely a little as he whimpers, “D-don’t take up too much space now, Suguru.”
“You’re in my space, Satoru.” As if to prove his point, he presses the cold knob of his piercing right against your clit. “Don’t forget who knew her first. Now stop moving those lips and focus on- hers.”
Gojo glares but doesn’t say anything more, only nudging the other man by his shoulder for more space. There’s a slight battle in the space between your legs- only drawing both men closer n’ closer to your cunt.
Gojo had his mouth plastered to your sopping cunt, lavishly licking into every orifice. And Geto- oh, Geto was doing the exact opposite.
Because while the nerdy boy was giving you everything that you wanted, Geto was pinching meanly at your clit and draaaaagging your cute nub until you felt like crying. Neglecting your clit when it felt like you were enjoying it too much.
They were sliding over each other and making out messily with your pussy—and each other.
“Tch- gay as hell.” Sukuna’s grumbling tone echoes, closer than you remember it. The sudden volume of it makes you look up with a jolt- only to realize that he was looming at the head of the bed. Looming right where you were.
Gojo spits out into your pussy, “Erm- bi, actually.”
“Does it look like I give a fuck?”
Ryomen Sukuna has had enough.
He takes in the way that Geto and Gojo were shoved between your legs rabidly. Barely even paying attention to him. Barely even breathing- and he admits his mouth waters just a little imagining just how sweet your cunt tasted…
But he’s instead focusing his attention on another pair of lips.
“I didn’t come here ta get fuckin’ cucked.” Sukuna rumbles, his meaty thighs resting on the space of mattress beside your head. The sole reason that Geto and Gojo had chosen Sukuna’s room in the first place was because of his king-sized bed. And you were damn lucky that it could fit all four of you. “So…”
You flinch.
“No need to be scared, mama, s’just me.” He’s patting his overlarge palm on top of your head, smoothing down your sweaty scalp. “And my ah- ‘friends’ here told me that a pretty gal like you wanted to be bred, hm? S’that true?”
You’re nodding through your tears, body twitching any time Gojo’s tongue curved just right. “Mhm- yes, fuck yes.”
“Bred by me you mean.” Gojo sputters out, drunken eyes turning up at Sukuna.
“Fuckin’ loser.” Sukuna sniffs, his prominent nose crinkling in distaste at the white-haired man.
But he’s setting his crimson sights back on you, smirk only seeming to grow at the awe on your face - ogling just how large the other man was. He was on a scholarship for wrestling, or so you’d heard…“So s’true, huh? Ya came here to be bred? What a filthy fuckin’ giiiiirl—”
Squirming restlessly, Geto was now starting to circle the nub of your clit with his ringed fingers and it was leaving your body in a tizzy. Every wadded ounce of cum that Geto was licking out of you, Gojo was shoving back in with his flexible tip. Refusing to let any of his seed go to waste- they were just so sloppy. Kissin’ you open-mouthed. Again and again. Both nose tips bustling against your puffy clit, their tongues slickly sliding against each other and shoving in alternating paces. Gojo’s hard and fast. Geto’s agonizingly thorough.
You whine, “Was just- hck! needy-”
“Oh I know all about how needy you are, woman.” Sukuna’s hands drop to the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “But do you even know my name?”
“Of course I do.” Your brows furrow, “You’re Ryomen Sukun—mmpf.”
Before Sukuna’s tugging down on the cottony hem of his pants and letting his raging erection smack! against his firm abs. Thick length. Drivelling tip. If you thought that Gojo was big, then Sukuna was just as big if not bigger…
An even more sultry number of veins that were overtaking the sides of his shaft - and now your mouth. He fits inside. He was so fucking hard that you could count each ravenous ba-dump! of his pulsations, shovelling and shoveling away-
“M-mmmpf—” You’re letting out muffled moans at the rough use of your mouth. Sukuna’s length seemed like it was never-ending. The tannish crown of his shaft finds the cute orifice of your mouth and opens away at your lips, wider and wider with every inch. Hips moving in solid, mean thrusts-
He snickers,“No, my name is Ryomen Sukuna. You don’t even know that, mama?”
“Mmm—” Letting out sinful noises at the feeling of his fat ball sack smacking against the side of your face with each of his movements, just so full with need for you. “Please-” You sob out - the only thing you can seem to sob out. “P-please-”
“Nuh uh, not that either.” He was having way too much fun with this. Plunging his thickened erection out and using the length to spank each side of your face. “Try again.”
“Ryo- oh.” But just as you’re trying to speak, Sukuna’s flooding your hot cavern with his salty tip once more. Almost as if he was chasing the vibrations of your voice, almost as if he was waiting for you to speak just so he can watch your pretty sentences break on his cock.
He grins from above, head cocking to the side to take in the lovely sight. “Tryyyy again—”
“Ryo- mmpf.” You’re gulping down his swollen inches - fuck, Sukuna was even thicker than he looked. Somehow filling up every orifice inside your mouth, it felt as if he was reaching for the dangly lil’ thing in the back of your throat and then even further.
Just slurp after slurp of his vicious hips movin’ back and forth.
He’s tightening his grip on the back of your head and humming. “Breathe with your nose, mama. Breathe with your nose.” The audacity to even act like he cares when he swabs the very back of your neck aggressively, “Relax that pretty throat f’me. Heh.” Just waiting until your airway was fully free, just waiting until you’d somewhat calmed down- before he’s arching his hips and slamming his puckered red tip inside. “Now that your voicebox knows me- try to say my name? Do you know my name?”
“R-Ryooo—” You’re gurgling through your spit and tears, “Ryo- ngh- men. Sukuna.”
“Atta girl.”
“Sukuna?” Gojo flinches as if he’d just been struck by lightning.
“Hm?” Geto peeks his eyes open as well, only to find that the pink-haired man had very much made himself at home pumpin’ away into your mouth. His velvety length stuffing your small cavern open. “It seems, Satoru, that we have some competition.”
Gojo growls, nipping at your folds meanly in his possessiveness. “Oi…who the fuck do you think you are blocking her cute air tract with your nasty fucking-”
But Geto only smiles with your slick glistening on his lips, “May the best man get to breed her cunt first.”
And you’re confused for only a split-second before there’s a sudden spike of pressure - from both ends.
From Gojo and Geto who were thrusting their tongues inside your cunt, from Sukuna who was never one to back down from a challenge. And he’s looking over at the two men who were bickering but suddenly united, and plastering both paws on top of your scalp to thrust inwards.
Letting his slick, drivellin’ tip hit the roof of your mouth and make you moan—
“Suguru-” Gojo hisses.
But Geto was already on it- Geto was already fiddling with his chunky metal rings to transfer them all onto his right hand. “Mmm, don’t you worry now, Satoru. I’ll teach you.” With his goal finally accomplished, he’s hooking his fingers against your folds and pryin’ them apart. “First, you’ve gotta tease the princess.”
He’s spitting inside your hole and thrusting his middle finger inwards.
Swirlin’ around your velvety channel for a few seconds before pulling back out when you start clenching- “S-Suguru…” Your voice echoes from above, and both men look towards you with primal eyes.
Geto cocks his head at Gojo, “See?”
“I-I see.” The other man looks as if he was on the verge of writing this all down.
“Then you’ve gotta- hah, take your time. Like this.”
“Like—oh.” You’re cut off by him sticking his finger back in. Letting his wet muscle expand and circle around your walls, his rings pokin’ away, a few times before edging back out.
“See?” Geto rasps, one of his thumbs pushin’ aside your folds to show your entrance off to the other man. “Look how she’s- hah, clenching like she wants to suck me back. You’ve gotta make her want it badly- s’fun to tease a pussy.”
Gojo nods eagerly.
“And for my last trick-” Oh, by the way he says it you already know that it doesn’t bode well for your sanity. The thickness of two fingers were now stretching your hole out wiiiiidely before running back out, thrusting in and out. In and out. In and out.
Probin’ with his silver rings near sweet spots that you didn’t even realize you had before.
At the same time, Geto runs his straight nose bridge down the line of your slit and ends up pressing on your clit. Just not enough pressure to satiate you, just enough pressure to make you sob out—“Fuck, stop teasing, Suguru.”
“And that’s how you treat a princess.”
Meanly.
“Let me.” Gojo gulps. His mouth waters at the milky display of your slick and his cum around Geto’s mouth, he shoves Geto aside with a muscular shoulder. “Let me.”
And it’s the last thing you’re seeing - that look of utter greed on Gojo’s face - before the white-haired man leans himself in reaaaaal close to your pussy. He’s nudging his straight nose bridge between your plump folds and ending up pressing down on your clit, letting his watery tastebuds swing out and-
And then Gojo Satoru was eating you out like a madman.
Geto had scooped out the wads of his best friend’s cum, and Gojo’s moaning at the mess that gushes around his mouth and onto his pinkish tastebuds. Blue irises sprinting to the back of his skull, raw lips falling agape. Geto’s breath hitches as he notices the change immediately- “Wait, Satoru, you’re going to-”
“M’going to breed her again.” Gojo spits out, “S’gonna be me not him-”
He was going to say that Gojo was going to forget how to breathe if he went on like this - but he gets the feeling that his best friend doesn’t even want to breathe right now…
Doesn’t want to do anything but grab onto either side of your thighs and shove himself even deeper. His fat tongue slipping out and smacking! against your pussy, his tastebuds searching any and every corner for a taste of you, his pussy-muddled brain not even knowing what he’s doing as he’s thrusting and thrusting.
Face pushing until the rim of his glasses pressed up against your pussy and he didn’t even see to realize—
“O-oh, fuck.” You’re gurgling out in a shrill tone, and Geto looks on at your pretty expressions in interest. “S’going in so deep. Satoru, you’re just so needy-”
Sukuna raises a brow, “Heeeeh?”
“Yeah, so fuckin’ needy, Satoru.” Geto repeats in his smoky tone, eyeing both of your feverish motions with interest. Gojo was face-down in your pussy and lapping at your cunt with a primal wildness, pinning down your squirming hips. Any time that your restless body tries to move away, he’s draaaagging you down to drag across his pretty face, he sticks his tongue so rapidly in and out of you that his tongue is nothing but a pinkish blur.
Completely the opposite of Geto’s mean, torturous methods.
And, well, he can’t fall behind now, can he?
Without warning, the dark-haired man reaches his hand to shove not one- not two- but three of his ringed fingers down your tight channel.
Gojo startles at the intrusion and moves-
“Ah ah.” Geto murmurs, grabbing him by the back of the neck and shoving him into your wet cunt once more. “Stay.”
His nose glidin’ down your slit, furiously rubbing and rubbing his textured tastebuds against it until you’re opening up more for Geto. Inside it. Anywhere and everywhere.
Geto was absolutely pummelling your cunt with his fingers now, while Gojo moved onto sucking your clit as if it was his favorite candy. “Mmm—-Sug…Satoru.” Moans meshing into one, as if you didn’t even know what to utter. “It feels so- oh.”
“So what?” Sukuna scoffs, reaching down to smack your right tit. “Don’t test me now, mama. Don’t make me- hngh, shut you up proper with my cock.”
He’s grabbing one of your hardened nipples and pinching at the peak in a way that makes you whine- “Kuna- Kuna- Kuna-”
“Yeahhh, that’s more like it. Keep saying my name- until you memorize it. Until you memorize my fuckin’ cock.”
“Suguru, do something.” Poor, inexperienced Gojo can merely watch as his pretty girl’s taken over by the pink-haired man once more. He’s flicking furiously at your bundle of nerves- and yet you couldn’t do anything but out muffled whimpers with Sukuna’s hot cock shoved into your mouth. “My girl’s been- ngh, won over-”
“Your girl?” Geto raises one brow, but looks up at you anyways.
Fuck, this angle between your legs was just perfect - he could see the way that your throat expanded and outlined the sheer thickness of Sukuna’s girth. Just so massive that every thrust had his cylindrical intrusion bulging against your neck. Again and again.
And he can’t help but catch Sukuna’s red eyes, cocking his head over. He gestures—straddle her.
A signal that the other men understands instantly.
A sinful smile spreads across Sukuna’s lips, “I like the way you think, punk-rock.”
And Gojo can only watch, slack-jawed, as the wrestler pulls his fat cock out of your mouth and tap-tap-taps the tip on your tongue a few times. Letting your pretty lips water just a bit - just enough to wet your tastebuds enough - before he’s moving over your head in one fluid motion until. Before he’s behind your head completely.
Before his rude hips plummet his inches between your lips.
You’re moaning so loud-
The vibrations zipping up from his honed cockhead and up his spine. “Fuck- didn’t know such a sweet mouth could even make a sound like that.” Sukuna’s grumbling underneath his breath, fucking gnawing down on his bottom lip to keep from making too many noises himself. “Now I get why those two bastards are obsessed with you, ma.”
Thrusting away wildly, Gojo pulls away with a gasp. “Suguru, you traitor-”
“Easy there, easy there.” The other man breezes, giggling at the cutesy way your body lurches back and forth with Sukuna’s jackhammers.
You flinch as you feel something metallic and cold plunge into your deepest, deepest depths—hitting almost near your g-spot. Geto hums, “And that goes for you, too, gorgeous.” He gives you a vulgar few strokes of his fingertips, reaching for your sweet spot every time. And yet- still not reaching it, he was teasing you until you wanted to sob. “Did you know that I play bass?”
“I did know- I do.” You cry out.
“Then, you probably know…” A final thrust - all the way from the curvaceous edge of his middle, his index, his ring finger and doooown to each ringed base - that sets your teeth on edge. “-that I’m real good with the g-spot. Whoops, I mean-”
Somehow between Sukuna’s vicious thrusts you manage out, “S-Suguru—” Because just then, he’s shoving your velvety walls apart to push against your softest spot in an instant.
“-yeah no. I meant g-spot.”
“Heeeeeh…” Sukuna whistles, “You’re good.” Watching as the dark-haired man then utterly ruins you with a mere few movements of his fingers, they’re finding each tender spot inside you perfectly. Rings being used to mark exactly where and when Geto was thrusting away - but no matter what, he always ended with his frigid rings pushed against your g-spot. Purposefully glidin’ those geometrical edges of his rings against your sensitive nerves- “But I’m better.”
“Kuna, oh my god—” You babble out as he uses both hands to grab onto your tits now, his long fingers pinching your nipples and rolling them between each padded digit.
It was just insanity.
Geto with his globular fingertips finding your g-spot again and again, Sukuna with his hot cock filling you up again and again- and Gojo. Oh…Gojo was just gluing his pouty lips against your entrance.
Geto’s tongue meeting his in an open-mouthed kiss, the white-haired man pulls away- only to latch onto that pretty perky clit above your hole. “S-say my name, too, sweetheart.” You can just barely hear Gojo’s plead over the cacophony of other sultry noises filling up the room, “Say my name-”
You can just barely feel the sharp spark of pleasure coming from Gojo finding your clit and sucking. Like his life depended on it. “Say my name while you cum.” His pale brows furrow, and every luxurious lick at your cunt was all that he ever needed in life, all that made him glide his glasses down your front pussy. All that it took to make you mooooan straight into Sukuna’s cock. “Say m-my name while you cum, please?” At least he had manners still.
Before your entire body erupts in a high so sudden and strong that you don’t even realize it’s taken over until after Gojo himself comments on it- “She’s cumming.” He breathes out, almost in disbelief. Gojo feels his cock twitch at the way you’re cumming on his tongue- and reaches his free hand down to fist it angrily. “She’s cumming she’s—mmpf.”
“If she’s cumming then fuck her through her orgasm instead of running yer big mouth.” Geto grabs the back of his best friend’s neck and shoves him in again - which Gojo was glad to indulge in. Glad to gnaw on the knob of your little clit, until his lips felt so raw that they might as well fall off.
And while Gojo made out with your pussy, Geto was fingering you crazily. His honed fingertips plucked at your bliss, hitting your g-spot precisely at every peak. Again and again.
“L-like this, Suguru?” Gojo gurgles out.
“Mhm, faster.”
They’re speeding up- Gojo letting go of his cock just to delve in even deeper, and Geto has to be the one to pump his best friend’s length.
You sob, “Satoru—mmmpf.”
“Shit, maybe you two bastards aren’t half-bad.” Sukuna muses, a pinkish brow raising at just how much you moaned and thrashed underneath the two men. His hips only grew faster.
All three men were absolutely ravishing you through your high, those little sparks of pleasure going up from your pummeled cunt to your pummeled throat. “Mmm—” Just about the only thing that you’re ever going to be able to get out at this rate, “Feels- good- ngh- good-”
“Yeah, but which one’s yer favorite, mama?” Sukuna spits. Nestling his heavy balls against your face while he shoves his cockhead lung-deep-
“At least let her finish her orgasm first.” Gojo seethes, his glasses completely fogged by now.
“Yer too fucking nice.” Sukuna bites back, “She likes being all roughed up, doesn’t she?”
“No, she likes indulgent-”
And they’re both speeding up their ministrations, Gojo going craaaaazy with the heart patterns he was drawing on your clit while Sukuna twisted his fingers even harder over your nipples. You’re practically held hostage by the pleasure.
And the only thing you can do is ride out wave after wave of your bliss, still being absolutely demolished from all angles by the three men when it’s finally starting to peter out.
You twitch, “S-Suguru—”
Because you knew that the pierced man would be the only one much too happy to stop you from getting what you need - but you’re surprised to find…that Geto merely shrugs you off with a grin. The one overstimulating you with his fingers until you’re crying-
“Keh…” Sukuna eyes the sobs you’re heaving out, though he doesn’t stop himself. He’s pumping out a few wads of creamy white, before pressing a thumb on top of his shaft to stop himself from releasing too much before he actually got to breed you. “Don’t make her tap out just yet.”
“Suguru…”
But he doesn’t stop.
He doesn’t even slow down until you’re being probed by his sultry fingertips all the way until a second orgasm. It flashes through you like a sudden fever, your entire body breaking out in a cold sweat.
Jaw dropping.
Back arching off of the mattress.
You’re so sensitive by this point that even the lightest graze of Gojo’s canines against your clit makes you whimper n’ whine. Great heaving tears making their way down your cheeks, you’re nothing against the three sets of strong arms that hold you down so they could properly eloooongate your zapping pleasure.
And Geto Suguru doesn’t stop until he’s well and thoroughly fucked you through each mountain of your electrified high, and perhaps even all the way into a third-
“Aaaaand that’s enough outta you.”
“Yeah-” Gojo huffs, his pout pretty on his lips. “-you don’t get to hog her orgasms all for yourself, Suguru.”
Geto gives a final long liiiiiick with his pierced tongue.
Your brain is all muddled and stupid by the time that Geto with his love for overstimulating you is pulled off. You’re pushed further up the sweat-dampened mattress, sandwiched between Gojo and Sukuna from either side.
“So…” Sukuna asks, “Who won?”
“Me- she moaned my name-” Gojo grumbles up at the man. You whine at the way both their toned cores surround you, it’s as if you were a ragdoll they wanted to play around with.
“Yeah right, you had first dibs.” Sukuna scowls, eyes narrowing into slits. “And ya ruined it. Now I get to fuck her pretty pussy-”
“How about me, gorgeous?” Geto wasn’t waiting around to argue with his friends - he was cupping your dazed face and asking you directly. But you were so damn far gone that you couldn’t even begin to formulate a coherent response before-
“No, Suguru.”
“Fuck no.”
.
.
.
You were right about Ryomen Sukuna being rough.
Because he was fucking you rough. And hard. And fast.
And ruthless.
It seems that the winner of last round’s ‘challenge’ had been none other than Gojo Satoru - based on the fact that his name had been the first one you’d moaned during your first orgasm. Perhaps his accolades as president of the debate club wasn’t just in name…
They’d unanimously decided that Geto Suguru, the traitor, wasn’t deserving of fucking you after that little stunt he’d pulled earlier. Overstimulating you until tears—how could he! Without both of them, of course…
And so Gojo had left you in your stupidly fucked state.
Merely hovering over you- the tips of his ears red, the head of his cock dripping wet already. He’d pressed just about half of his swollen shaft between your pussylips before - expectedly - cumming again in less than two strokes.
He just couldn’t handle the feeling of your hot cunt. Just the sensation of you throbbin’ away around him like that was too much for the bespectacled nerd to handle, his entire body shaking as he spurted his white seed all over your pussylips. Hot and syrupy, it dripped all over you and down onto the sheets below. Pink lips jutted out when he felt himself reach his high again, “I…I did it again, sweetheart.” He’d told you, shamefully.
And you’d barely gotten two comforting words out- “It’s alright, Toru—”
Before Sukuna had shoved him over.
“My fuckin’ turn.”
And now you were laid out against Sukuna’s chiselled back, feeling each ripped muscle move n’ flex against your own. Vicious. Vulgar. He was heaving after each thrust, he was hitting the very spongy end of your cervix, he was bending your back against his front—a hand scouring down your front to feel his cylindrical length impale you-
A full fucking nelson.
By none other than the wrestling star himself.
“A star player—fuck.” Sukuna’s raspy voice whispers into your ear, hooking his pointed chin at your shoulder and preventing you from moving a single inch away from him. Thud-thud-thud, his rotund tip could be felt all the way against your scratchy throat. And you swear you could taste the salty flavor of his gooey liquids. “M’gonna fuck a s-star athlete into you, woman- the best junior wrestling champion this world has ever seen.”
Gojo surges up from his chair in the corner - the one Geto and Sukuna had been sitting in earlier in the night. “She hasn’t even taken yet-”
“Ah ah- what’s that?” Sukuna interrupts between thrust after thrust. He looks around as if he’d just heard an indistinguishable noise from somewhere in the room, “What- oh.”
And you’re watching speechlessly when Sukuna’s honed fingertips slither down your front to squeeze your clit.
“It’s this pussy begging me to get her pregnant-” His pinkish brow raises, “Oh- the best Olympic wrestler this world has ever seen? How ambitious, mama.”
Gojo spits, “Fucker-”
“You hear something?” And Sukuna was taunting him - Sukuna was playing right in Gojo’s face. His big beefy arms looping underneath your thighs and giving them a forceful tug- he’s spreading your limbs out as far as they’d go.
Making your soppin’ wet pussylips smeaaaar wide open and making the other two men throw envious looks your way. “Sounds like a little bitc-”
“Oh, please—” You’re bucking through your sobs. A particularly aggressive stroke has you damn near jumping out of his arms- but Sukuna’s only tightening his grip and bringing you riiiight back down to feel his cock.
You weren’t escaping any time soon.
“C’mere, woman.” His tone was almost a warning, speaking down to you as if you were dumbified on his cock already—and you were close. Oh, were you close. The wrestler’s cock was just so thiiiick that his veins massage your tiniest orifices without even trying. Long glides. Hard throbs. “How m’I going to- heh, fuck you pregnant if you keep trying to run?”
“Well…”
He continues, “In the first place, you don’t think you can run from a wrestler, can you?”
Blinking your wide teary eyes up at him, “I can’t…?”
And it was almost too cute how stupid you were on his pistoning hips already, mouth splashing out saliva every time he was hittin’ a gooood spot inside you. Sukuna chuckles, “No, you can’t.” As if to prove his point, he holds you down to his glissading abs and swabs your wettened cervix. “But ya sure can fuckin’ try- ya won’t make two steps before I have you on my cock again.”
“Well that’s just n-not fair—” You’re trilling out at the way he bends you just a liiiiittle further against him. Both hands gripped primally onto your hips and not letting you get too far.
Not letting you get far at all, actually. You can barely even breathe without Sukuna bouncing your body right back and knockin’ the wind out of your lungs with his puckered tip. “Ya can’t handle it if I bend you a little like thiiiiiis—”
“F-fuck!” Sobbing at the way he further spreads your legs, bringing them up until the caps of your knees were striking your tits.
“And then just a little like thiiiiiis—” Sukuna arches his hips lightly off the dampened sheets to rover his cocktip inside. Arching you against him.
Ryomen Sukuna loved manhandling you.
“Oh my g-god-” It’s just about the only thing you can blubber out, your sentences hitching in your throat. “Shit, I didn’t even know I could bend like this…”
“Why’re you crying, mama?” Sukuna coos, though there was something decidedly dangerous in his tone. Almost as if in alarm, your pussy starts throbbing harder and he snickers as he feels it- one of his roughened thumbs come to wipe away at your tears.
“It’s j-just-”
“It’s j-j-just the entire future of wrestling that depends on this pussy right here.” He’s mocking you. He’s teasing you. Not in the same way that Geto would - Sukuna had you immobile and was bullying you with both his mouth and his rugged, roverin’ tip.
His plump cockhead gapes out your cute hole, ending up in your deepest depths. He manages to leave you jolting after the pressure of each one. And after that bulbous intrusion then his inches just seem to go on and on and on—“S’a biiiig deal, mama. So you understand why I hafta fuck you a little ngh- rough, riiiight? So you understand why I hafta wrestle you a little, riiiight?”
Until you can feel Sukuna bash away even at your throat-
So hard that your eardrums almost pop- “It just feels so-”
Only to get overshadowed by the slurping squelches of your own cunt. Which only makes the pink-haired man grin, “There. It’s been decided then.”
“What are you…” Your dazed eyes widen, looking up into his rouge ones for an answer.
But the only answer he’s listening to? The background music of your pussy.
Sukuna’s nodding in agreement with the slick wet sounds that escape you, even more of it increasing in volume once he lets his precum fill you up to the very brim. Dripping past your pussylips, “Now now-” For only a few split-seconds before one set of Sukuna’s rugged fingertips swipe the syrup back in. “-none of that. That’s at least a couple million yen you’re losing there, girl. If m’fuckin’ it inside ya then keep it inside ya.”
You quiver, zaps of electricity floating through you when he reaches down and pinches your throbbing clit. “And i-if I can’t…?”
“As my son’s manager, I can’t have that.”
He was picking and choosing management opportunities already?!
You see, the King of the Ring was hellbent on fucking you right - on getting his seed to be the one that took inside your sopping wet walls.
He was fucking you like he meant it - he was going to complete that mission one way or the other. He was drilling into you with a primal cadence, bulbous tip press-press-pressing inside to swab away at your every single orifice—
You’re jerking on top of him at the pleasure, and Sukuna’s immediately putting you in a headlock.
Gojo surges up to his feet in outrage.
But the fraternity president wasn’t paying the other men a single ounce of attention- merely tightening his bulging biceps around your neck. Leaving you nothing but a limp ragdoll for him to pump his inches into, thick and hot at the thought of impregnating you. “And as his father-” Sukuna shoots you a cocky smirk that the other two can see, “-m’not letting you walk out of this bedroom without carrying my child.”
He throbs inside you and you whimper.
“Suguru, I can’t stand this-” Gojo’s taking a step closer, chair damn near clattering to the ground.
He was donning his boxers for now, though his best friend was naked and proudly pumping his cock at the sight of Sukuna fucking you like a crazed man. Hard and fast. Hard and fast.
Soft pants leave the bassist’s mouth, throwing his head back with a grown as he watches Sukuna reach down and pinch your clit. He’s peeking ahead at the sight with a partially-cracked lid, “Satoru, give me my phone.”
Gojo’s brows raise, “What?”
“Give me my phone.”
It’s in quick, jerky movements that the white-haired man does. He tries not to stare too long at the moving couple in the bed but…fuck, he, too, was so damn hard at this point that he was dripping precum through his boxers.
Gojo practically shoves the phone into Geto’s arms.
He unlocks it with a chuckle and heads straight to the-
“You’re recording-”
“Shhhh…” Geto chortles, raising his camera up. “We’ve talked about it before, she’s said it’s alright. Now shut up, it’s getting to the best part.”
It really was. The video captures the scene perfectly: you’re still being manhandled in this full nelson. Draaaagged back and forth every time that Sukuna’s cock glides inside you, hitting a spot particularly delicate.
He was just so muscular, with his cock plumpened up so much that Gojo almost wondered how you were taking all of him. Your cervix must be completely bruised by him now, and the camera manages to record how the skin ‘round his pelvis was burning red.
Again and again and again.
The two of them were practically hypnotized by the rough way you were being fucked. Pounded, more like. The musician zooms in on the vision of your puckered lips, swollen with prolonged contact with Sukuna’s massive balls. Gooey puddles of Gojo’s cum from earlier dripping all around them. Smack-smack-smack!
It takes just a few more of those and a final pinch on your clit to make you shatter- your orgasm taking over you like a tidal wave.
White flashing behind your eyelids.
Spine arching into the perfect curvature on top of him.
Sukuna’s muscular front provides the best cushy surface for you to get lost in your high, one that leaves you limp and boneless on top of him. “P-please, Kuna…” Geto damn hopes that the audio managed to pick up your ravaged whines. “Cumming—”
“You don’t think that I don’t know that?” He hums, and you notice that his voice sounds so much more ragged than before. “Yer feeling like fuckin’ waterpark down there, woman.”
“O-oh…” Your maw drops, as if you just now realize how wet with arousal you were. Leaking all over his scruffy pink happy trail-
“Orgasm left you stupid already, huh?”
You can only mindlessly nod.
All three men find their achin’ erections throbbing - the pink-haired man most of all with his swirlin’ tip tortured by the clenches of your orgasm. It almost pained him to pull out, even if it was to savagely thrust back in again.
And again. And again and again and again-
Geto whistles as the last few seconds of the recording capture the way that a sudden ring of white froths at your entrance. Sukuna pumping in his cum with a drawn-out groan—
The sharp tone of the video ending echoes out in the bedroom. Though you certainly couldn’t hear with the way your eardrums were popped with the pressure of his thrusts.
And Geto? Geto worked silently, as Gojo gawked behind him.
“S-send me that recording…”
“Mhm.”
SUGONDEEZNUTS sent an attachment to ‘Juno, y’know?’
SUGONDEEZNUTS added Prof. Nanami Kento.
He clicks off the phone and enjoys the show.
“A star wrestler-” Sukuna’s spitting between his gritted canines, the edges of his lips squirking up into a vicious grin. He flattens one of his hands down on top of your core - right above where his thickened tip was plummeting into your womb.
Pushing down and you could already feel the glutinous layers of his cum start to slide around you, sploshin’ out of your hole. It leaks out of you and he wonders just how much that much was able to fit inside because fuck—he’s cumming more than he ever has in his entire life. “Look at thaaaaat- we’re gonna have a star wrestler, mama. Better get ready, girlie, because m’gonna fuck an entire team of Olympians into you.”
“Please-” You yelp as his headlock on you tightens.
Flexing his incredible muscles against your neck, “And are you gonna run away?” It blocks every ounce of air from escaping.
“N-no…”
“Are you gonna tap out?”
“No-”
“Mmm—then how about we start thinking of the baby names-”
“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, shall we?” Geto’s breezy voice soothes out into the saturated air. It’s not too long before you’re hearing footsteps headed to where you lay utterly muddled. “After all, there’s more of us waiting.”
You shiver.
.
.
.
Nanami Kento wasn’t having a particularly good day, no.
For starters, he’d just been informed by one of his freshman students that half the campus thought he was in his thirties already—he was a damn TA in the first place! He wasn’t even an official professor (though he did plan to be one, so perhaps they were right on that note…)
And then his morning class slept through a particularly riveting presentation on the Kamakura period, then his (totally not favorite…alright perhaps favorite) student didn’t show up for your allotted office time with him, and now he was stuck grading papers of students who couldn’t care less about shogunate lifestyles.
Or at least he was.
He was grading papers of students who couldn’t care less about shogunate lifestyles.
That’s until he got the text.
With none other than said favorite student, you, featured front and center in its contents.
Now he was walking as fast as his long legs could take him to the most infamous fraternity house on all of campus: Curses Epsilon.
And let it be known that Professor Nanami Kento has never clocked out of the history department earlier in his entire life-
“Oh, fuh-fuck—” You’re blabbering out stupidly, tears cascading your eyes at incredible volumes. The three men inside this room just had you ruined on their cocks - Gojo hadn’t been given a chance again after his last two mishaps, Sukuna had just finished rubbin’ your pussy walls raw, and now it was Geto’s chance. Finally.
You were on all fours - bawling face pushed into Sukuna’s pillows, your ass raised high in the air.
The bassist had his index and middle fingers pulled into two honed tips, pressin’ away at your g-spot like it was a treasure trove he was uncovering. Push-push-pushing, Geto managed to force your tired body into one more orgasm, two more orgasms, three more org-
And that was when Professor Nanami Kento had arrived.
First, he’d knocked. Sharp and sensible - the frat house door had been unlocked, you see.
And it’d been none other than Geto himself who pulled his fingers cleanly out of your cunt and walked to the door. Slurping away at the treacly mess you’d left on his fingers- “You’re late, Kento.”
With a gasp, you’re pulling the sheets up to your chest- but Gojo had stopped you in your tracks—“But I wanna stare at your pretty cunt while she leaks, sweetheart…”
“Fuckin’ needy.” Geto had thrown his silky locks over his shoulder, rolling his eyes at his best friend’s antics. Then he turns back to the blond man who was trying hard not to stare at you on the bed—but he couldn’t help the way his eyes roamed. Fuck, he was only a man after all. “You know we almost thought you weren’t coming.”
Nanami gulps at the way Geto very obviously suckles the candied glaze of your juices from his fingers. One by one.
You whimper at the display.
“Clearly.” Nanami’s eyes then shift slowly from the man before him to you on the bed, your eyes dazed with your high, your legs clenched together. But not even that can stop the constant overflow of creamy white leaking from between them. Overspilling. “Is that why none of you have fucked her properly yet?”
Geto’s dark brows raise in amusement, “Excuse me?”
“If you’re going to get her pregnant, then do it properly.”
Everyone’s jaws drop a little at the statement the professor is giving, and Nanami only soundlessly steps inside. Letting the door close behind him.
He has only one target and one target only - you.
The blond-haired man steps towards you with purpose, starting to shrug off that formal jacket that fit him so well—
“Hello, my darling.” Nanami sighs, “On your back now.”
4. Nanami Kento.
The HOTTEST prof/ TA this campus has ever seen
Such a gentleman (opens doors, eye contact even when wearing skimpy tops, reads feminist books omg)
Mature
Some think he’d be dry in bed tho…
Nanami Kento was not dry in bed. Nanami Kento was not dry in bed.
Oh, how many times have you dreamed of this day? Wearing your shortest skirts to Professor Nanami’s lectures, daydreaming away just how it might feel to have him bend you over his sleek mahogany desk.
Though in no time what he was bending were really your legs.
Right over his broad shoulders, they were folding just so pliably—he’s patting upon each side of your wobbly limbs with a hum. “Not too hard for you now, is it, my love?” You’re shaking your head, growing wetter at the nickname- and Gojo groans as he watches you.
Nanami smiles, “Mmmm, good.” Then he’s reaching an arm out towards the headboard and grabbing one of Sukuna’s pillows.
“Wha’s that for, Nanami?” You’re blurting out stupidly.
“This?” He’s cooing down at you in a soft tone, one that’s so sweet that it makes your entire body heat up. Especially your cunt. Deciding that it would be much easier for your muddled mind to be shown instead- Nanami slides the puffy pillow underneath your hips to raise them a little. “This is for helpin’ that cute cunt of yours actually keep all the cum she’s been given. Does that make sense?”
You nod. He was just so gentle-
“You’re going to address me as ‘sir’, alright?” Fuck—you were mistaken. How did you not notice the steely look in Nanami’s eyes? How did you forget that he was known not only as the most handsome professor on campus - but also the most strict. “Now, does that make sense?”
Just barely managing to breathe, “Y-yes, sir.”
“Good girl.”
Shit, it makes your orifice geyser out in more impossible wads of slick. And your back’s arching instantly the moment he tugs down his pants, and you feel Nanami’s large reddish tip enter between your legs. “Fuck, that feels so good, Ken—sir.”
“Good girl- good girl.” He’s hushing out your tiny cries, placing a soothing hand on top of your sweaty scalp. Which you thought was nice, which you thought was sweet- but you’re realizing that that gesture was actually to push down on your body and keep you from jerking away every time he was lightly plunging his cock in. Nanami presses down on your head, “We have a lot to learn now, don’t we?”
“Y-yess—oh.” Your voice cracks embarrassingly at the thick shaft that Nanami was sinking in.
You didn’t get quite as good of a look at him, but you could tell that his entire length was just a little bigger than Geto’s. Not quite as long as Gojo, but with even more veins and the prettiest tuft of golden hair on his base.
Somehow, what was special about Nanami was just how perfectly he was curved.
Just a few sultry degrees to the side. He’s managing to drag-drag-draaaaag the puckered end of his cock down your walls. Pinkish and puckered, kissin’ all at the ridges down your sides- headed straaaaaight towards your sweet spots as if he already knew where they were. “Have you done your homework, my darling?”
“H-homework?” You cry out.
“Mhm—” Nanami was easing inside your pussy with languid thrusts - and though he seemed to calm and collected on the surface, you could spot the furrow between his brows. The line of perspiration that ran down his forehead. The way his heavy balls seemed to tighten the more he slipped inside- “Have you researched the conditions best for- hah, pregnancy?”
“I…well…” You’re shyly looking away - you admit that you had done some, you hadn’t gone into this entire thing unaware. But having your history professor look at you like this just left you speechless, as though he was looking straight through you.
He’s smiling down fondly at you, “If only you spent a little longer studying instead of- mmm—” Pounding out a particularly hard thrust that leaves you seeing stars, “-instead of daydreaming about fucking me, hm?”
You gasp, “How did you-”
“Why, you’ve been dressing like a slut in my class for the entire semester, my love- how could I not know?”
And the only thing you can do is moan out like the slut he believes you were - your legs spread high on his shoulders, your pussy letting out the most filthy slurps and squelches as he’s easing inside.
Hard and thorough, Nanami’s fucking himself inside you in slashes- just grazing his honed tip against your sweetest spots. Before pulling away when you start to twitch for more, more more—
“So close-” You blubber out, “S-so close, Nana-”
“Excuse me?”
“Sir.” Correcting yourself in a single second.
It’s then that Nanami’s leaning in reeeeal close, and you’re looking up at the handsome man through your lashes. “Good girl.” What you’re presented with is a splat! of his saliva being spat down, Nanami holding open your jaw to let it slide all the way towards the back of your throat. “Now that’s to fix that dirty mouth of yours- better not make that mistake again, alright?”
Nodding, “Y-yes sir…”
“Good. Now let’s see if you did your research- let’s see if you can answer my questions, and we’ll see if you deserve to have a baby fucked into you, alright?”
“Yes, s—oh.” You’re barely even given the time to compute his sentence before your sinful examination starts. And Nanami folds you deeper in on yourself, easily rubbin’ his scorching hot tip against the very back of your cervix-
You start to shake at the feeling of his primal stretch and whine—“Now now, quiet during an examination. Or are you fucked too stupid to not even remember that, hm?” It just made you so dizzy how Nanami Kento was so stoic, sensible, sweet - and yet he had these moments where something predatory slipped beneath the cracks and left you speechless. “First question, who was it that fucked you first?”
Your head slips to the side of your pillow, locking eyes with a certain white-haired man that’d slipped his hand beneath his boxers. Lightly pumping- almost reluctantly but he just couldn’t help himself. “Satoru…”
“Hm…” Nanami inclines his head at the man, blond locks plastering on his head. “And who was it that fucked you the hardest?”
“Sukuna—” Teary eyes blinking at the fraternity president, the way his crimson eyes narrowed at the sight. “K-Kuna did.”
“And I assume that Geto Suguru was the one who was the fuckin’ filthiest?” As the other man speaks, Geto’s giggle echoes out over the question. “True or false?”
“T-True—”
“Three correct in a row, that’s a hatrick.” His rugged thumb reaches down and glides between your pussylips, collecting the dewdrops of syrup drivelling out of you. “Well done- you deserve a little- hah, reward for that, don’t you agree?” The professor doesn’t even wait for your response before that very same digit of his presses down on your clit like a button. “Does that feel good, my love?”
And you’re so sensitive by the constant sultry assaults on your cunt, “Y-yes, so good—”
Only for Nanami’s tantalizing rolls over your clit to turn into a pinch—
“Wrong answer, darling.”
You scream out at the maddening answer, “Wh-what do you-” Head snapping up in surprise, before it’s suddenly falling back into the pillows at the surge of pleasure. You saw the look in his eyes. “I mean sir—yes, sir.”
“I fear your time is up, my love.”
“What- oh.”
And it’s the last thing you’re able to get out before-
Before Nanami shoves both your thighs up until they’re ruthlessly hitting your tits. Before Nanami’s bending you into such a pliable shape beneath him. Before Nanami plummets straight to the deepest end of your channel to strike your cervix.
Fucking you firm. Hard. He’s mapped out every inch of you with only a few animalistic swabs, “Three out of four, that’s 75%—you did better than I could’ve hah-hoped, darling.” Blond brows raising, “Though you did make a careless mistake-”
“I’m sorry—” You’re botching out through the husky cries in your throat, “I’m sorry, sir-”
“So your final grade should come down to…” The professor trails off, his vulgar strokes thumpin’ away at your womb. Nanami shows no mercy for the bruises of his circumference he’s sure to be forming there, Nanami shows no signs of stopping- “-a fail.”
Your eyes snap wide open—“N-no please, isn’t there something else I can do to make up for it-” Fluttering your lashes in just the way you knew he liked - the same one you used all those times when you stayed behind his classes for something stupid. “-sir?”
Nanami’s biting down on his stern lower lip with a shiver, “You’re lucky you’re my favorite.”
And then with no trouble, he’s placing a direct thump to the sweetest spot on the side of your channel that makes you scream. Just the sweetest speck that he’s pushing in on.
Once. Twice. Thrice.
The blond-haired man leans down till the strands of his slicked hair tickle your forehead, panting into your open mouth. “Then how about another assignment, hm? Extra credit?”
You nod fervently, sure that some rational part of you knew that this won’t actually affect your semester’s grades. And yet there was some other part of you that just wanted to please him, to jerk your hips up into his with the cutest whimpers. “Please- please, I’d be so grateful, sir.”
“I need you…” You’re awaiting the rest of his sentence eagerly—but Nanami Kento takes his looooong lecherous time pumping his cock into you in the meantime. Push after push. Breath after breath against the shell of your ear, “-to get pregnant by me.”
That was your assignment?
That was your assignment?
It sends your mind into a tizzy, and you’re just about opening your mouth to answer-
When the bed dips beside you.
You’re looking up into the murky peripherals of Geto Suguru, his smile almost feline on his beautiful face. He looks between your shocked expression and Nanami’s furrowed brows, throwing his locks over his shoulder. “What? I thought class was in session?”
Nanami grumbles, “Don’t push it…”
“You don’t expect more than one student at a time?” He’s humming, milky thighs now splayed out on the mattress. You’re gulping as you watch him cup his thickened base with one hand, giving his red-hot length a few pumps. “It’s alright, I’ll just sit alllll the way at the very back-”
And you gasp at the feeling of him pressing his veiny shaft into your open palm. Curling his ringed fingers around your smaller ones to give his erection a drag—
“-you won’t even- hck! know m’here.”
“Tch-” Nanami clicks his tongue, channeling the tension at having the other man use your pretty self- into none other than your cunt. Into none other than thwacking! his heavy shaft deeper, harder, into you.
You’re starting to get pushed up to the headboard, doing your very best to keep a constant rhythm on Geto’s handjob. “Please- ngh, please m’not gonna last long-”
“I can’t bear it either.” Gojo’s shaky tone rings out.
He’s taking just one step before Nanami sternly barks- “Another step and I bribe all your professors into failing you this semester.”
The blue-eyed man slouches in and grumbles.
All as the other two ruin you-
“Then here’s a mini-quiz for you, gorgeous.” Geto hums, and Nanami glares at the other man. He continues as if he doesn’t see, “Who’s going to cum first- A). You…” And it sure was heading in that direction, if the way that Nanami was hitting your g-spot dead-on was anything to go by - you didn’t even know how he managed to spot it so precisely. The ratios of it being molded into your very cunt by his cock- “B). Professor Nanami Kento, here.”
His ruby tip twitches deep against the gummy depths of your walls, spurting out a wad of promising white pre.
“Or C). Me.”
And despite being you who was asked the question, it’s Nanami who’s speaking up. “I don’t care what it is.” He runs a free hand down the front of your stomach, “As long as my daughter’s healthy.”
When he’d first walked through those fraternity doors, you’d expected Nanami to have been the restrained one. Perhaps the one that was more put-together than the other, perhaps the one that wouldn’t have been as affected by the little ongoing challenge to get you pregnant.
And yet, you’re realizing that perhaps your professor was a family man after all.
In no time he’s dragging his cock out with a groan, letting the golden curls down his front scrape your skin carnally. Before with a final thrust- you’re cumming. Again.
“Shit-” Head growing airy at the feeling of him bruisin’ your bundle of nerves again and again and again. “How are you s-so good at hitting- that- spot-”
“Fuck, look at the way she’s dripping.” Gojo’s awed tone breaks across your synchronized moans.
At the same time, both men on top of you were burstin’ out into their own white-hot high. And from the edge of the room, the other two could see the coating of pure white around Nanami’s lengthy cock as he fucks his miry ribbons inside.
Spraying your insides like a flood. Hot and wet.
It’s a constant wave of creamy white overtaking the spots inside your walls, thoroughly glazing you from the inside. Gluing your thighs together. Feeling the salty aftertaste at your throat. “Sh-shit, oh my god.” And not a single drop was wasted because of the pillow he’d smartly kept underneath you- “I feel so full, sir.”
“Sir? How kinky.” Geto’s panting out, thighs falling open. It only takes you a few slippery pumps to realize that he was pourin’ out his orgasm as well. Down your wrist. Splattering onto your face.
Gliding uuuuup and down, uuuuup and down in an unsteady rhythm- shit, he has to admit that even those little jerks you give when Nanami smacks his hips onto yours felt good. Geto starts rutting up into you, his fuzzy black happy trail scratching your skin.
Soaking with his cum.
Nanami’s nose crinkles when Geto dips a hand down to swipe at his treacly syrup and smear it all over your lips. “You, Suguru…” As if to say that your lips belonged to him, as if daring the other man to kiss you this way.
“What about me?”
“If you thought that would stop me…”
Your professor’s placing his lips onto yours instantly, murmuring-
“How could I not kiss the future mother of my kids? Congratulations on completing my assignment, darling.” He reaches a hand down to thumb inside your hole, just a few slick remnants that he had to take care of. “And congratulations on my daughter-”
“Th-thank you, sir.”
You could barely even breathe- just so much of Nanami’s and the others’ stuffing you from the inside.
“It seems the answer was D)...” Geto rasps out, voice unsteady with the waves of bliss he was still riding out on your pretty palm. “All of the above.”
“That’s it- get off, my turn.” Gojo’s familiar tone bites out from nearby - though you were much too exhausted by this point to actually turn your head and look.
Sukuna hums too, “I’ve never been more excited to do an assignment in my- heh, entire fuckin’ life.”
Nanami sighs, as if the other men were wearing on him already. He doesn’t look at them as he sticks his hand out, “My tie.”
They pause, for just a little- before Gojo’s the one to actually spot the professor’s usual tie. Handing it to him with a confused look…a confused look that slowly melts into sensual agony once the blond-haired man ties the slip of fabric around your wrists.
Tight.
Restraining you to him—he’s using his makeshift handcuffs to draaaag you to him like a ragdoll. “Now, you better behave while we breed you, my love.”
“Yes, sir.”
.
.
.
It’s one more round with Nanami and a sloppy makeout with Geto later that you find yourself being pummeled by Sukuna…and Gojo?
They’d shifted you to lay on top of the wrestler’s toned body, your maw droolin’ a wet sheen down his prominent pecs. He provided the perfect cushioning for you while drilling into you like a madman—again and again reclaiming the depths of your cunt as his.
While Gojo was pistoning his cock hurriedly into you from behind.
Of course, he’d reached his high with a groan the moment he’d slid his furious cockhead into your second entrance. Furiously pushin’ his sappy wads inside-
“Sh-shit…” The nerdy man shivers as he feels you clench your velvety insides, glasses slippin’ down his nosebridge. He could feel the outline of Sukuna’s thick cock sliiiiiiding against his- and he has to bite back a shudder at the fact. “Your dick’s so small, it’s depressing to feel it through my girl’s pretty anorectal junction-”
“You think I like feeling yours, two-pump chump?” Sukuna bites back. “M’trying to breed my woman here, how am I supposed to that when-”
“Wait wait wait- your woman?”
“Your girl?”
“Can you guys just sh-shut up and—fuck me—?” You’re trilling out stupidly, having had enough of the two men bickering above you.
They more they argued, the harder they were fucking your two holes - each vein, ridge, and dimple plastering against your walls. It was just an incredible sensation, mind growing blanker by the thrust. By the ruuuuuub of their matching paces furiously filling in, splurging out pre, smearin’ the slick mess. Not a single spot was left unturned as you were being stretched out on both ends, having both cylindrical intrusions claim you-
“As you wish, sweetheart.”
“You said it, mama.”
Neither of them would admit that having the other felt good for them, too…
It’s then that there’s—no, there’s no knock on the door.
Because you have to understand that most fraternity brothers have seen all there is to see, which meant that basic manners were rather…forgotten whenever they were inside the house. Not that it ever revealed anything jaw-dropping during times like this, and most would just assume that a brother would lock the door if they’re ever having…time to themselves.
And you also have to understand that Ryomen Sukuna hated locking the door.
So it opens just a crack with a foreboding creeeeeeak—! and in walks the emo sex dream on campus.
5. Choso Kamo.
In Geto’s band.
Wears eyeliner on a daily basis.
Always quiet and walking around campus with nothing but his headphones and sketchbook (artsy ooo~)
Wanna make him whimper!!
The very same man who, last semester, had shyly asked to draw you for his art exhibition - and ended up creating the most beautiful portrait humanly possible. It was one you couldn’t believe was of a person of this realm, let alone you. And when you’d told half-joking told Choso that, he’d replied—
“But of course it’s of someone from this realm.” His sweet doey eyes had scrunched in a way that was so genuinely confused, “It’s of you. Do you not see yourself like I see you?”
You had to admit that you’d carried a little hallway crush on him since then.
And there he was—not a step made inside Sukuna’s room before you’d dragged him to the bed yourself.
In almost no time, you’d made Choso sit in the middle of the dampened bed- your legs somehow straddling his waist, your back arching, your moans filtering into the sticky air as you rode his cock with such hunger.
“I-I just came to deliver Sukuna his baggie-”
Sukuna grunts, “Oh yeah, thanks.”
“-and y-you’re saying that—ngh.” You never imagined that Choso Kamo would be the type that couldn’t control his mewls, but right now every time your walls squeezed him just a tad too tight he was makin’ the cutest noises. “You’re saying that the goal is to- hck! g-get you pregnant, baby?”
“Yes, so good, Cho.” You’re blabbering out, your eyes practically turned into hearts.
Somehow…Choso was the largest size of them all- perhaps not the thickest, but his length was just increeeeeedible. Long and lucious, with the prettiest blushing tip. He was long enough that he was bashin’ at your gooey cervix without even being all the way inside, he was long enough that he pumped all the way deeply against your womb and you got the distinct feeling that he’d go even deeper if he could-
“Eleven inches.” Gojo’s awestruck whisper breaks through your frenzied mind, “I swear that guy’s eleven inches-”
And the worst (or perhaps best) part was the silver Prince Albert’s piercing that he proudly donned on his mushroomy tip. Cold metal contrasting with the feverish heat of his cock—making your irises swirl in the white of your eyes.
Geto whistles, “See the amount of cum pourin’ out of her? He might as well have undid all our hard work-”
“Why that emo little-”
“That only means we get to go again.” Sukuna hums with a smirk. Not waiting for the others’ reactions before he’s siddling up behind you, kissing aaaaaall the way down the line of your spine before reachin’ a hand between your legs.
And you jolt as you feel the sudden spikes of pleasure taking over your cunt, Sukuna’s thick fingertips pryin’ aside your pussylips to latch onto your clit. He’s toyin’ with your clit while you ride Choso, “F—fuck, keep going like that, it feels too good-”
“And so you mean to say- we can g-get you pregnant…?” Though Choso’s mind remained fixated on only one thing, and his voice quivered in disbelief. “We can really get you pregnant? Really, really get you preg-”
“For fucks’ sake-”
“You can, baby.” You’re cutting off Sukuna’s rumble- making the other man huff and continue to roll his thumb against your knobbly clit. His erection rutting into you ravenously from behind, “You can cum inside me-”
Choso’s beautiful brown eyes widen, “Cum inside-” He bucks at just the words leaving your mouth.
“And fuck it inside all you want.” You don’t think you’ve felt this much power since you made Gojo cum just with a single touch of your pussy. And Choso was easily the same type to get utterly pussydrunk after only a few glides of his veiny cock.
Just babbling and babbling away with the clenches of your cunt whenever you felt his pierced tip. He’s striking his painfully hard tip on top of your g-spot and letting the tears flow until you wondered who was feeling the sensation-
“Are you alright, baby?” You’re pushing back his sweaty bangs, staring into those eyes of his that were smudged with eyeliner.
Sukuna leans over, “Yer never that nice to me, woman-”
“Shush before I ban you from the bed.” You huff.
“My own bed?”
But the King of the Ring quietens down anyways, watching down as the man being ridden manages to string together a few coherent words - he couldn’t blame his frat brother. After all, he’d already felt the filthy heaven that was your pussy, and it almost made him lose his mind as well…And by now Choso was far beyond ruined—“So let me get this…get this straight-”
“Go on, baby.” You’re noticing that the man below you was so shattered that his mere body was jolting at the mention of anything to do with a baby.
Even that cutesy nickname for him made him spurt out in a steam of miry pre, clinging onto your insides. He gasps, “You’re saying that you want to- to have…my baby?”
Gojo pipes up from somewhere across the edge of the room, “And mine!”
“Mine first~” Geto follows.
A heated huff behind you. “Heh, good fuckin’ luck because it’s gonna be mine.”
“That is unless it’s not mine.” Nanami pushes up his glasses, “Which will be impossible.”
Choso’s growing more and more dazed the more and more they speak—or perhaps he was just reacting to the speeding up of your hips. The way you’re leaning in so close with a sultry smile and saying, “It can be yours, too, Cho—”
And that’s all that it takes to make the poor man cum.
He didn’t expect it- he didn’t even think that it was on its way judging by the sudden jolt that wracks through him. Choso throws his head into the crook of your shoulder, jaw dropping open with little sobs as he furiously fucks himself through his high.
Again and again.
Wave after wave.
You think that Sukuna’s ministrations might have you hitting one of yours, as well - but by now, you were far too gone to actually feel anything but tender zaps of pleasure.
Too caught up in the way that the brown-haired man was poooouring out as many droplets of cum as his balls could hold. Every single one. “You’re saying- you’re saying that m’gonna be the one to breed you—?” He’s rasping out against the side of your neck, and Sukuna claims your other side with a possessive growl. “You’re saying that I’m gonna fuck you all f-full and glowing?”
Arching into the two toned men that sandwiched your, “Yes, please-”
“I’m gonna feed this cunt with all the- ngh, cum she wants.” All the wants and more—it was drippin’ out of you, a milky sheen that coats all three sets of your thighs, Choso’s own, and Sukuna’s. “And then she’s gonna turn it into a baby that’s mine?”
Gojo scoffs, “Erm, actually-”
“And she’s gonna be as beautiful as you-” Choso doesn’t even seem to notice the interruption, doesn’t even seem to notice that he wasn’t breathing. Wasn’t doing anything but moving his plump tip inside of you and bashing every orifice with his puckered, pierced tip- “And she’s gonna have your smile, my eyes, your laugh, my hair—fuck, she’s gonna be just as beautiful as you.”
It seems that he’s tapered out the miry white cum that’d been seeping into you, and the man finds himself reclining back on Sukuna’s bed.
Holding onto either side of your hips now, you’re shocked at the sudden claim that overcomes him once Choso bucks his hips of the bedsprings and starts rutting inside you- “Gonna be so fucking beautiful- gonna be so fucking mine.” Tip bulging. Piercing slick.
“P-pleeeease, Cho—” Your head throws back, body starting to lean against Sukuna’s for support.
When the other man swats away Sukuna’s hand with no fear and starts toyin’ hearts on top of your clit himself. The chipped black of his nail polish marking out exactly where his fingers were moving in a frenzy.
The wrestler raises a brow, “Oi…”
But Choso’s paying no heed, “Gonna fuck- fuck my baby into ya, baby.” His dark lashes quiver with tears, just so big and pretty and sensitive. “Gonna have everyone look at you and see what I did-” Gojo gets up with a growl, and Choso only spreads apart your pussylips with his fingers so that he can see better. The way you were dripping in his cum.
“Gonna have everyone see you walking down the street and know that I got you pregnant.” It was just so surprising the sheer intensity he was fucking you with—you’re crash-landing into yet another high of the night. And the emo boy was fucking you perfectly through it, letting his bulbous piercing scraaape your dewy insides. “Gonna have everyone see you buying baby clothes and let them know that’s for my baby.” Balls tightening, “Gonna have these fuckers see her in nine months and see me, me, me—”
Choso’s fucked himself into oblivion against your cunt, inside your sopping wet walls - until he’s pushing into his second high of the night.
And the more he’s pushing those clingy white wads inside, the more pussydrunk he seems to be getting. “Gonna—-pregnant.” Only broken fragments of his thoughts and words echoing out, Choso was rubbin’ his reddened tip raw on your pussy. “Get you—ngh, mine—baby…”
Again and again, he was emptying his aching balls inside of you. Twitching after each white-hot pour of his syrup that left you flooded.
And it’s only after he’s done with his wave of euphoria that your jaw drops at his state. Utterly ruined.
“Are you o-okay, Cho?” Genuinely asking.
But the pierced man only looks up at you with tears in his eyes, “Baby, am- am I pregnant?”
Your jaw drops—fuck. Fuck, he was that pussydrunk.
But Sukuna only cackles from behind you, “The fuck did you ask?” He looks over his shoulder at the three other men who were just hypnotized by the sight, “Oi! D’you fuckers hear that?”
“It’s certainly an interesting idea.” Geto hums, drawing nearer.
“And yet, mostly implausible.” Nanami replies.
“If there’s anyone here that she’s going to get pregnant first- then it’s going to be me.” Gojo stabs a thumb at himself, and you all turn to look at him. Slightly abashed at the sudden attention, he pushes his glasses up his nose with a blush. “B-but of course, I know that’s impossible with the considerations of a lack of seminiferous tubules and even if there was a vans deferens the considerations of a male womb…” Trailing off.
You’re so fucked that you almost don’t realize that all five men were on the bed in mere moments.
Surrounding you.
Gojo and Nanami’s cocks being guided to your sweaty hands, they themselves starting to move your palms down their needy lengths. Choso perking his hips up still as if unstoppable, as if it doesn’t even matter how sensitive he was if he could just fill you up once more—
“H-hold on-” You’re gasping down at the brown-haired man, “Hold on, Cho, are you sure you can-”
“Hold on?” Choso chokes out, “Hold on.”
Before tunneling straight into your womb with no apology-
“M’trying to f-fuck you till you’re pregnant and dripping with my seed and you want me to hold on- never say that again, baby.” He leans in closer and whispers, “Never.”
Before your mouth’s plugged up with Sukuna’s cock.
.
.
.
Where the others were possessive, Geto was just downright filthy.
You hadn’t even allowed your brain to register the feeling of Choso’s plummy, split-ended tip pulling out of you with a plop! Just the sheer length of it singed into your walls- “Sh-shit.” You’re shivering sensitively, “What now—oh.”
And you don’t have to ask before you’re feeling it again.
Him.
Geto Suguru with his muscular front against your back, taking Sukuna’s position behind you on the mattress. “A full nelson, huh, Ryomen?” His breathy voice echoes out behind you. “You know, that might just work- c’mere, Satoru.”
Gojo perks up where he’d been sulking in his chair, “Me?”
“You.” All laid behind Geto now, you were just so far gone that you barely even feel it once he spreads apart your jittery legs. With a single swipe of his ringed fingers, he’s baring your cream-covered cunt for everyone to see. All gooey and wet with the wads of cum trickling out of you. “C’mere and eat her out while I fuck her.”
“I thought you were going to let me fuck her- out of the kindness of your heart.” Gojo huffs, but gets down before you two anyways.
“What heart?”
And it’s the last thing you’re hearing before Geto’s incredibly hardcockhead is mazing between your walls. He’d waited all this time since the beginning of the night, through the new additions to the bedroom, and now was his time. Now he was not waiting a single second for you to get used to his primal size. Not waiting a single second even feeling apologetic-
“S’because I have no heart that m’reaching for hers~”
Gojo might have been the longer out of the two, but Geto was most certainly the thickest. An incredible girth that might just be one of the thickest you’ve encountered this entire night, his entire tannish tip covered in a few squiggly veins that perfectly outlined your cunt.
And the thing was—
Geto lived up to be just as good as his mouth was - he lived up to all the talk. He was leaving you stupid with only a few swabs of his puckered red tip, dribblin’ out gooey pre ‘round your entrance and then pushing then pushing each ounce iiiiiiinwards.
Again and again.
2. Geto Suguru.
Fucking PRETTY
Rings
In a band
Already super close friends. Two in one go??
You met him at one of his gigs on campus, and you admit you’d been struck by the music- but also the singer himself. Rather accosting him after the show, it was a fast track to becoming friends.
And Geto Suguru was…Geto Suguru.
Anyone else might have gone a little slower in the beginning, anyone else might have let you at least get used to his incredible length before utterly ruining you - but Geto Suguru had your pussylips split upon his cock and was reaching in ravenously. Hard. Quick strikes. Not waiting a single second before plapping! at the very back of your spongy cervix and glidin’ back down, not waiting a single second after he’s making everyone’s cum pour out of you-
And Geto doesn’t even speak to you from behind until he’s sure he’s made your pretty pussy surge into your orgasm at least twice like his.
Carefully movin’ about the rude red tip of his shaft, he spanks a bruise onto your g-spot a few times and watches as you shatter as if made of porcelain-
“So how about it, gorgeous?” Geto’s gasping voice from behind you, the curtain of his long inky hair tickling your sensitive skin. He had you pinned against his back with a single pale arm, “Decided on which one of us you want to make your- hngh, baby daddy yet?”
“F-fuck, I’m not quite…” Your sentence trails off with pleasure.
“Yeah? Not quite yet?” He continues from behind you, acting for all the world as if he wasn’t just singlehandedly ruining you on his velvety shaft. And you could practically hear the pout in his purring voice, “Well, you’re going to have to- mmm, decide soon if you really wanna baby, y’know?”
Back arching, “Yes—yes-”
“Oh, who am I kidding?” And the waves of your bliss were roaring in your ears, leaving your friend’s sing-song voice sound as if almost from a distance.
He doesn’t say anything before reaching his roughened-up hands down between your tits, sloooowly - almost as if he was attempting not to scare off his prey. “There’s someone- heh, better I can ask about that…”
“What are you…” You’re choking on so many of your whines as he reaches down and presses the slender tips of his fingers on top of your stomach, slightly bloated with sopping cum. And it just makes you guuuuush- “Shit shit sh-shit, Suguru, what are you—oh.”
“Whoops, was that me?” Geto’s purring out from behind you, ignoring the protests that erupt from every corner of the room. “Silly me~ I didn’t realize she was leaking this fucking much- we might just hafta fuck her like this all over again boys.”
“I mean, I would gladly.” Sukuna rumbles.
“Shit, same.” The white-haired man gulps from below, it was here that he could get the perfect vision of the ivory sap flowing out of you. Hotly melting between your pussylips and reachin’ the curled tip of his tongue, “Shit, what are you even doing to her, Suguru-”
“Hmmmm—?” Because none of them had ever fucked you like this.
While the other men had their goals of breeding you until you were all roooound and glowing, Geto had a slightly altered goal of doing that in the way that would most leave your pussy crying. Leave you crying.
They could see it right now, the way that the bassist would speed his slender hips until they were almost nothing but a blur between your legs. Roughly mazin’ the crown edge of his shaft until it felt like you were twitching from pleasure- until it felt like you were just a liiiiittle too close to reaching your high. And the only thing that Geto Suguru could do then is slow down.
Achingly so, until you’re left sobbing for more—
“Too fucking filthy.” Sukuna’s whistling, bulging biceps crossed. He cocks his head at the nerdy man, “So are ya gonna eat her out or just stare- because I could do a right job of it-”
“Shut up.”
And Gojo Satoru was never one to not catch up.
He lets his slick tongue flop out, gulping at the ivory sap flowing out of you. It’s like a hot melt between your swollen pussylips- “Mmm—” So fucking filthy. Too fucking filthy. And yet, he didn’t know if he was the filthier one for then reaching out and letting his tongue across your folds, dipping just a little lower…“Mmmpf- Suguru, did she say which one of us she wanted as the- hngh, baby’s father yet?”
“Tha’s exactly what I’m asking her, Satoru.” Geto responds.
And in no time you’re feeling his fingertips push down on your womb once again, making it hard for you not to shatter into yet another one of your highs - but you were so overstimulated by this point that even that felt like a mere few tingles. “Let’s seeeee—” His breathy tone was in your ear, lookin’ down at the other man between your legs. “I think m’hearing ‘Suguru’, gorgeous…”
“Where the fuck are you-” Gojo himself is interrupted by a particularly loud splosh of sap trickling out from between your pussylips. And he can’t lie, he’s listening to the noise himself as if it was human words. “She did not fucking say that, don’t put words in my girl’s mouth- pussy.”
Geto arches a brow, “Then what did she say?”
“She said ‘Satoru’.” Stubbornly replying from below.
Geto’s snapping his hips up viciously at the feeling of his best friend’s tongue licking at your hole, parts of his textured tongue gliding down his own shaft. “Mmm, you fucking wish- just listen to her.” Making the echoing slurps grow louder and louder.
“Nuh-uh, fucking listen to this-” With the other man’s tongue slippin’ between your folds and dragging out just as many noises.
“Heh, yeah right—”
You didn’t even know which one of them was being louder at this point, because whenever you thought that it might be Geto then Gojo was tuggin’ on your clit with his teeth and making you moan- and whenever you thought that it might be Gojo then Geto was planting his hand down on your tummy and making you leak out. Making you formulate a puddle of slick that both men were just addicted to—
“P-please…” As if this was nothing but your little mantra, and it kept echoing out of you like a broken record player. You didn’t know what exactly you were begging for - for more, for mercy, for your life-
“I know.” Geto hisses from behind you, his sharp canines starting to dig into the side of your neck. “How about we ask her, Satoru?”
Gojo’s eyes snap above his foggy glasses, “Good idea- sweetheart, isn’t it me that your womb’s begging for?”
“Isn’t it me you’ve been dreaming of getting pregnant by?” Geto speaks out as well.
And you’re following the two men like a tennis match, with your stupidly dazed eyes bouncing between the rude pumps that Geto was placing on your cunt, the way that Gojo’s tongue somehow forked into all the right places.
Driving you wild.
“I-is it me, sweetheart-”
“It’s me, isn’t it, gorgeous-”
And when it seemed as though you were far too stupid on their movements to answer, Geto was reaching his hand down and pinching your clit—the very same that Gojo was surging up to and suckling. Both of them are fighting for purchase on you. Both of them ending up only making your pleasure ebb even deeper- and your nth high of the night crashing through your body.
“B-both—!” You’re calling out, getting the lewd attention of everyone watching. You buck and thrash on top of him, “Want both, Suguru- Satoru- fuck, I want both of you-”
“Then it’s settled.”
The bulbous end of his cock pulses away inside you, dragging back and forth along your walls in a way that was frenzied. He smears aside your legs even further and furrows his brows, “Then it’s settled-” Geto’s pants making the skin on the side of your neck perspire, his slender hips arching up into you in a way that you weren’t even sure was possible. Just the best angles hittin’ each throbbing spot inside you until you gasp, ”-that our baby’s gonna have two daddies, huh?”
And it’s almost as if that was enough to make Geto Suguru crash into his own high, like he couldn’t control himself at the image - he couldn’t stop himself at the thought of you being fucked by him and his best friend. In no time, his high was shooting straight through him and ending up smeared against the wetness of your cervix.
Right at the very back, it’s splattering out in a distinct warmth that you note. He doesn’t move a single inch as he pumps you through the shivers of his high. Pump after pump. Push after push that leaves you primally speechless. “Oh my god—” Your mouth waters as you’re filled up with wad after wad of gooey white-
“Suguru’s just fine, gorgeous.” He hums from beneath you, thrusts loooooong and thorough pushing in every single ribbony white excess. “Or maybe even- the future father of your kids.”
“I-I’d like that…” Twitching through the way he was fucking you like an animal. And just below, Gojo was much the same- just lickin’ and lickin’ away between your legs while Geto fucked you stupid. You’re filled up to the brim, until it was almost too much to keep inside—
And Gojo thinks he might just cream himself just from the very vision- “Don’t tell me you’re gonna cum already, Satoru?”
“Fuck off, Suguru.”
.
.
Toji Fushiguro doesn’t get fucking paid enough.
Being the security guard on a college campus isn’t exactly the most lucrative job in the first place, but it was made worse by the fact that he had to deal with that—college kids. Toji himself was about ten years past his own college day, though that was not to say that his experience as a security guard didn’t hone him to handle all clientele. He could handle awkward high schoolers. He didn’t care about screaming middle schoolers.
Hell- even the pre-schoolers seemed to have just a bit more sense than some twenty-somethings with too much alcohol and too little self-preservation on their hands.
Which is why he was answering a call at 3AM.
Perfect, those never bode well.
The complaint had come from the resident of some nearby dorm who’d happened to pass by the Curses Epsilon frat house (god, Toji fucking hated frats) and heard some…strange noises. It was far too loud and far too many voices for them to discern, apparently. And though they’d rung the bell, it seems that no one had been home.
Except for the strange noises, that is!
Looking up at the sprawling mansion from here, Toji could see just one light in the entire building turned on. It seems there was someone home - though likely only the resident of this particular room.
And Toji didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to figure out that this was likely some frat dudebro (god, Toji fucking hated dudebros) who had a bad trip or far too much to drink. This fraternity in particular was always infamous for their ragers, ones that Toji himself has had to shut down many times.
So he’s announcing his presence before trying the door hand and—ah, and it opens. Just as he expected (god, did he say he fucking hated frats?)
Entering through the dimly-lit living space, the noises only got louder the closer he got to a certain resident’s room.
The closer he got to—
“What the-” Toji’s flinging open the door to Ryomen Sukuna’s room, breath catching at the sight (cock twitching). “-fuck.”
You.
You, you, you, you.
Toji Fushiguro has wanted to fuck you since the moment he saw you.
Ever since last semester when you’d bribed him - oh, the sweet audacity - into letting you and your friends throw a party by bringing him a bottle of fine whiskey. He’d laughed in your face, of course, before ultimately taking the spoils and grumbling that you could (‘but only until 1AM’ he’d said).
That night he sipped on his whiskey, wondering if the pretty pussy underneath that thin skirt of yours was just as sweet. Just as addictive.
And here you were now—laid across Ryomen Sukuna’s bed and being filled by five men in all of your holes.
And, well, did Toji mention that he didn’t get paid enough?
6. Toji Fushiguro.
That HOT campus security omg (someone should put his face on the campus magazine and the applications would fill in)
BUFFFFFFFFFFFFF X5
Gruff but lowkey has a soft spot
Rumor says he’s a DILF (hmmm?)
He’s starting to tug off his uniform immediately, “Don’tcha worry, doll-” Toji snickers at the shocked look on your face, looming closer to you. To where you were sprawled on the bed and getting pinned by one set of Sukuna’s hands. “-I don’t snitch.”
And the long-haired one in a band - Geto, he believes his name was - grins. “Welcome to the club.”
The rickety bedsprings creak as he joins you all on the bed. “This bed’s gonna fuckin’ break.” Sukuna rolls his eyes.
“Shut up, brat.” And only the older man was the only one here who would possibly talk to Ryomen Sukuna that way. Toji shoos away the other men to meet you in the middle of his dampened sheets, brows raising at the sheer amount of white sap pourin’ out of you. He’d overheard some of the things that’d been said before he came but…fuck. “Damn, they really did a number on you, hm?”
You can only nod, “Mhm—”
“And you don’t regret a single thing.”
“W-well…” You look away, unsure what to say.
“No no, s’good.” Toji coos—almost. His tone was far too mean for that, “A girl like you should enjoy yourself during your college years.”
You’re jolting at the inkling of something dangerous in his tone- as do some of the others. But you don’t get to think too long about it before Toji has one roughened hand flipping you over. The other shoving your head down into the pillows- “But let me show you how a real man breeds ya now.”
You can only nod.
He tugs down - merely tugs down - his pants until the thick reddened tip of his cock hits your pussylips. Smearin’ down the crevice of your cunt, watching as you drivel a wet glaze down Toji’s length—he wastes no fucking time before edging his hips upwards and shoving—“Y’know, I’ve always wondered whether these college boys were fuckin’ you right.”
“N-ngh, fuck—” Your eyes roll to the back of your skull. Toji was just so thick - thicker than anyone here, with more veins than your feverish mind could even count by now.
“Yeah? I’ve always wondered whether they could- ngh, satiate this pretty pussy like she deserves-” Toji snickers, watching as you shake beneath him. “-the way I could do it.”
“H-hey! I think we did a good job-” Toji sends Gojo one look his way and he shuts up.
The older man glides his calloused fingertips down your spine, drawing sensual hearts that make you shiver. “Because unlike these damn college boys, y’know it takes a reeeeal hard earner ta know the feeling of wantin’ to provide.” He’s gruffing out, hips hitting yours in half-ruts. “A real family man.”
“Oh fuck off, old man.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, “You’re looking at the future of wrestling right here-”
“And a future Nobel Prize winner!” Gojo pipes up, but hides behind the pink-haired man anyway.
Nanami chimes in as well, “I fear I simply do not see the point you are trying to make, Mr. Fushiguro.”
They were in an uproar.
But to everyone’s surprise…Toji Fushiguro isn’t getting angry. Toji Fushiguro is smiling- “Hehhhh, fear you don’t see the point m’trying to make, huh? Let’s just put it this way then…” Almost muttering to himself, before he’s grabbing onto either side of your waist and funneling your womb with all his girthy seven inches. “-we’re about to make my son a big brother tonight.”
Their jaws drop.
Oh.
Oh.
They were well-aware that the security guard was single, all by his lonesome, according to gossiping admirers who had the courage to ask - but no one could have ever guessed that the man had a son.
And right now he was fucking you like he wanted to make a second-
“I’ve always wanted to show her- fuck, to show this pussy that even older men can fuck you gooooood, honey.” Just as he promises, he’s reaching for your g-spot faster than anyone else before him. Harder. Scourin’ your honeyed walls and making sure that Toji’s cock was thoroughly etched against your pussy, “So how about it? Got a thing for DILFs?”
“Yes—” Your velvety walls are squeezing his length and Toji holds onto you so tight that his nail marks take home on your skin. “Yes fuck, how did you know-”
“Because everyone’s gotta thing for DILFs.” He’s snickering from above you, abs glissading faster down your back. Your mouth drops ajar at the way that Toji reaches down and squeezes your clit with no hesitation. “But whaddaya feel about becoming a MILF?”
“Sh-she was mine first.” Gojo growls out from your side, holding onto your arm as if to tug you away.
But Toji only glances over like he just realized the other man was there, lazily looking him up and down. “Natural selection, kid. I’m gonna be the one to make her a momma.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Keeeep talking.”
Toji Fushiguro’s fucking you like an animal - short, rapid bucks and ruts of his hips just to fit inside. Just to manage to stretch out your walls to his girth, and then draaaaag all the way back out again to repeat. “Heh, s’a big stretch- I know.” Almost as if he was out of control. And with his meanness, he didn’t mind being so sloppy with it that after a few thrusts his cockhead would slip out of your hole. Ending up slidin’ between your lips and grazing his flared slit along your most sensitive spots. Toji holds onto the base of his cock and shovels in even more ruthlessly than before.
Just to make you whine a bit more—
“Handle it.” He gruffs out from behind you, shaggy black bangs tickling the back of your neck. And Toji’s pistoning into you at a pace that leaves you dizzy, “I said fucking- hah, handle it. Yer gonna have an even bigger of a stretch down there in nine months- heh.”
“You’re just so mean.” You huff.
“Me?” Toji coos in amusement, “Aw, doll, you haven’t seen mean yet.”
You’re holding onto his pale pillows for dear life as he fills you up once more, “Ohhh, feels so good, Toji-” Again. And again.
“Oh yeah? Oh yeah?” And he sounds fucking ecstatic at the fact. He grips onto the back of your throat with one hand, “You see- when ya get to my age you just don’t have time for the- hah, nonsense.” Fucking you hard and fast.
And purposeful.
It felt like Toji’s rounded tip was hitting every spot he wanted it to, and even the slightest rub of his zig-zagging veins left you speechless. You weren’t even sure whether you were shaking because of the sheer stimulation or because he was just that good- “Just needa find a niiiice girl ta settle down with.” His rumbling tone continues, “Treat her all nice, get her everything she wants- heh, then pump her full with a kid or two—get all of them everything they want.”
“Shit-” You gasp out, trying to buck against the creaky mattress. “Fuck, m’just so sensitive-”
“And what is it that you want, momma?”
The only thing that you can cry out now, “T-to cum—”
His fingers twist on your clit even harder, “Anything for the mother of my kid.” He speeds up, heavy balls hitting you in light spanks. “Anything-” He snarls, your cunt was just dangerously fluttering around him. “Goooood, right? Goooood?”
“Good-” You hiccup- “So good-”
“Nuh uh, doll- s’it so goooood?”
Toji might have been teasing you, but you still manage to find yourself repeating. “S-so gooooood-”
“Soooo good?”
Completely dumbified by now that you weren’t even sure what you were saying, the tell-tale twitches at the base of your stomach tells you that you’re close. “So, sooooo good.”
“Heh, how cute. So dumb on my cock.” He hums, “And can ya say Mrs. Toji Fushiguro?”
“Mrs. Toji—oh.”
And the next thing you’re actually seeing with your own two eyes…the bulging erection of Gojo Satoru. His pale thighs spread wide open in front of you, his puckered red tip being tapped on your lips. He wasn’t going to let you finish that particular sentence any time soon - or ever, really. “Open wide f’me, sweetheart? Let me see that cavum oris…”
“S-Satoru—” You whine, letting your jaw unfasten for him.
And it’s as if the moment they’re seeing their inexperienced friend take initiative, the rest of them were just rushing at you. Because Gojo’s slickly smooth tip thrusts between your lips- and then you have Geto and Sukuna’s hands dragging both of yours to their cocks.
Nanami’s even snaking his hands underneath to massage your sore tits.
Toji’s hands the only thing keeping your body held up- “Fuckin’ animals.” He’s hissing between gritted teeth, nose crinkling in a look of primal need. “Go easy on ‘er- she’s the momma of my future kid.”
“No, mine.” Nanami’s the first to speak.
“Mine.”
“Mine~”
Choso blinks, “M-mine?”
“N-no, mmm—” Gojo’s head falls back at the slide of your textured tongue underneath the line of his mushroom tip, “-mine.”
And when Toji finally cums it’s with all five other men still with their hands on you.
Pumping his seed in primal, rapid half-thrusts in and out.
Massaging your elastic hole. Caressing your deepest insides with all his puffy veins.
Your face is being pushed up against Gojo’s toned v-line and there’s nothing you can do about it, your nose scratching on his sultry ivory hairs. Toji’s length just felt so perfect - you could feel the curve of his cockhead piston gluey webs against your very throat with how hard he was pumping himself into you.
In and out, in and out, in and out until he could feel that sweet, sweet resistance of your hole and he’s forced to ease back out. He was reluctant to pull out even when he could feel the recoil of your cervix begging him to move- to fuck his ivory syrup deep inside.
So much of it—
All of it mixing into one making you feel so full-
“Ay ay- stop fucking into her mouth so hard, how m’I supposed to breed her like this?” Toji tuts at Gojo.
“Can you blame me?” He, too, was milking his length on your heavenly body. Overflowing with a line of cum that streams out from his pretty strawberry divot and down to your throat- Gojo watches it all disappear between your lips and shivers.
Until Toji roughens out an incredibly hard jackhammer that has you spilling a few strings out of your mouth. “Heh, whoops-”
“Fuck you-”
“Fuck you-”
“I thought we were fucking her.” Geto’s humming through the argument, tilting his head down at you. “How about me next, gorgeous?” And you wished you had the rationality at this point to let him know that you were just barely getting through your nth high of the night-
Waves of tender bliss flowing through you.
You think you might pass out.
“Don’t you fucking dare.” Gojo hisses, and you’re just letting of Toji’s cock with a pop! and a few more sultry sounds of cum gushing out of you. Before he’s crushing you to his front, staring them all down. “It’s my turn again.”
“You fuckin’ wish-”
“Satoru-”
“How crude-”
“Well…”
“She’s mine.”
1. Gojo Satoru.
Super cute
Probably a big D
Secret freak (tracked ovulation!??)
However has no experience (not quite a con?) and no place to fuck in (single bed + has a roommate, Geto)
2. Geto Suguru.
Fucking PRETTY
Rings
In a band
Already super close friends. Two in one go??
3. Ryomen Sukuna.
Frat boy™ (leader of Curses Epsilon)
Probably REALLY good in bed
On his way to become a pro wrestler (headlocks omg??)
Might be rough…
4. Nanami Kento.
The HOTTEST prof/ TA this campus has ever seen
Such a gentleman (opens doors, eye contact even when wearing skimpy tops, reads feminist books omg)
Mature
Some think he’d be dry in bed tho…
5. Choso Kamo.
In Geto’s band.
Wears eyeliner on a daily basis.
Always quiet and walking around campus with nothing but his headphones and sketchbook (artsy ooo~)
Wanna make him whimper!!
6. Toji Fushiguro.
That HOT campus security omg (someone should put his face on the campus magazine and the applications would fill in)
BUFFFFFFFFFFFFF X5
Gruff but lowkey has a soft spot
Rumor says he’s a DILF (hmmm?)
“Seems we have quite the conundrum on our hands.” Geto’s the one to hum above the squabbling, and as he turns to you, so does everyone else - all six of them.
Looking at you.
“So?” Gojo urges. “Which one of us will it be?”
A/N. The way I didn’t even KNOW how to tag this after I was done erm-
“what do you mean?” utahime asks confused, then you just bit your lip when you heard another groan. “look, I’ll tell you everything later okay. I need to go.”
you ended the call with utahime still protesting. your heart starts racing. you force yourself to stay perfectly still, as if that might undo reality. two options present themselves immediately—neither comforting.
option one: slip out quietly. pretend this never happened. avoid eye contact for the rest of the semester. transfer majors, maybe transfer schools. fake your own death.
option two: stay. ask what happened and face whatever terrible, humiliating truth your memory has mercifully blocked out.
you’re still weighing your odds when you feel movement to your right.
you freeze and slowly, you turn your head.
gojo is awake. oh no.
he squints against the light, then rubs his eyes, hair even more chaotic than usual. when his gaze lands on you, his expression softens—not smug, not teasing. it was actually gentle.
“you’re awake?” he murmurs, voice still rough with sleep. he sits up slightly, then smiles like this is the most natural thing in the world. “c’mon, come back to bed, sweetheart. it’s way too early.”
he pats the space between himself and geto, who hasn’t woken yet.
your brain short-circuits.
sweetheart?
come back to bed?
between them?
you swallow hard, suddenly very aware of how warm it is under the blankets and how carefully, deliberately, neither of them is touching you now.
satoru blinks down at you, eyes still hazy with sleep, a lazy smile tugging at his mouth like this is the most natural thing in the world.
you don’t move.
“gojo,” you croak. “why am I here.”
that seems to wake him up a little more.
he hums thoughtfully, then flops back onto the pillows, hands laced behind his head. “ohhh, right. you don’t remember.”
you stomach drops. “remember what.”
from your other side, there’s a low groan. it was deeper and he sounded annoyed.
“you two, too loud,” suguru mutters, voice rough with sleep. “I can’t sleep with you two yapping.”
you nearly jump out of the bed.
gojo laughs immediately, bright and unrepentant. “see? told you.”
you sit up too fast and regret it instantly, head pounding. both of them react at the same time—gojo’s hand steadying your back, geto reaching out with a quiet, practiced ease to keep you from tipping over.
“easy,” suguru says.
you stare at them. “why are you both… so nice right now.”
that earns you matching looks.
satoru tilts his head, blue eyes scanning your face. “do you want the long version or the embarrassing one?”
“…the honest one.”
he grins. “they’re the same.”
suguru sighs but props himself up on one elbow, clearly resigning himself to this. “just tell her.”
“okay, okay.” satoru clears his throat dramatically. “so. last night. party at haibara's place and you show up fashionably late and already pretty drunk.”
“well I didn’t want to go,” you mumble.
“oh, yeah we noticed,” satoru says lightly. “you walked in like you were already mad at every single person in there." this comment made suguru snort.
satoru continues, “you spot us across the room and immediately made a beeline.”
your face burns. “no I didn’t.” your mouth hung ajar, trying to recall that exact moment. you remember bits and pieces.
“you absolutely did,” suguru says. “and you, sweetie, poked my chest. that actually hurt. I think that left a bruise." he adds, rubbing a spot on his chest.
“…I what?”
“then, you asked us,” satoru's says, eyes softening just a bit, “what our problem was.”
you pursed your lips in a thin line trying to suppress your embarrassment.
“…oh.”
satoru shrugs. “which, fair question, honestly.”
“you were already slurring,” suguru adds. “you could barely stand and kept looking around like you’d lost something, darling.”
“my friends,” you whisper.
“yeah,” satoru nods. “you couldn’t find them and your phone was dead, you can't remember their number and then some guys started hovering and—” his smile fades, and his head shook at the memory. “and we didn’t like that.”
suguru picks up from there, voice calm but firm. “so we took you home.”
“to your home,” you say faintly.
“well yeah, here. our apartment,” satoru corrects. “which was probably the safest option. what can we do, sweetheart, you agreed very enthusiastically and repeatedly."
you bury your face in your hands in embarrassment.
“and then,” satoru says, brightening again, “you looked at both of us and went—” he pitches his voice higher, exaggerated. “‘you’re cute. both of you. I don't even know why I hated your guts in class.'"
“oh my god,” you groaned, face reddening even more.
suguru's mouth quirks despite himself. “you tried to climb satoru like a tree.”
“I what—” your eyes widened, already wishing the floor would eat you alive.
“relax,” gojo says quickly, sitting up again. “nothing happened. we stopped you.”
suguru nods. “you weren’t sober. end of discussion.” you didn't know what to feel, if you wanted to crawl into a hole and bury yourself alive or if you should be happy.
you peek up at them, stunned. “you stopped me?”
satoru's expression turns unexpectedly gentle. “of course we did.”
“you kept saying you’d regret it,” suguru adds. “and we didn't want be someone you regretted.”
“…I don’t hate you,” you say quietly. “I just—get intimidated. you both act like you own the room. and you're both really smart and...” you trailed off.
gojp blinks. then smiles, softer this time. “you told us that too.”
“and then,” suguru says, “you cried. for like, ten minutes about midterms.”
“that tracks,” you mutter.
gojo laughs, then nudges you gently. “well, you were really clingy. wouldn't let go of both of us."
“you fell asleep right here,” geto says, gesturing vaguely between them. “you wouldn't budge.”
you swallow, emotions buzzing uncomfortably close to the surface. “oh gosh, I’m sorry.”
“for what?” satoru asks.
“about everything I did last night.”
they exchange a look over your head. a quiet understanding and agreement.
“you’re okay,” suguru says. “really.”
satoru pats the mattress. “so come on, let's go back to sleep. stay, at least until your head stops spinning.”
you hesitate, then slowly lie back down, sandwiched between warmth and steady breathing.
gojo grins, satisfied. “see? not so bad.”
"and if you wake up and decide you still want us, we'll be here." geto says with a menacing grin, adding a wink that made your face heat up again.
you tried to sleep. you really did.
but it’s hard when you’re wedged between two bodies that radiate warmth, when every breath you take feels borrowed from someone else’s space.
you’re facing gojo, close enough that you can count the slow rise and fall of his chest. one of his arms is slung lazily around your waist, loose but certain, like he’d tug you back without even waking if you tried to move away. his white lashes cast faint shadows against his cheeks, and his lips—so plush, so pink, and so unfairly soft-looking—are parted just slightly as he breathes.
you swallow, mouth watering just from staring.
you’d hated him once. or at least told yourself you did. he was too loud and too smug. he's too much.
but now your brain won’t stop wondering what those lips would feel like against yours.
then there’s warmth at the back of your neck. suguru’s breath brushes your nape, slow and steady, the softest ghost of air that still manages to send a shiver straight down your spine. he’s closer than you realized. he's close enough that if you shifted even an inch, you’d feel him fully, unmistakably.
your fingers curl into the sheets.
maybe it’s the leftover buzz in your veins. maybe it’s the safety of being held like this, wrapped in their presence, no expectations and no judgment. or maybe because you three are just waiting for someone to make a move.
so, for the first time since you went to college, you decided to actually take a risk and do something lifechanging (for the good, maybe for the bad, you don't even know. you just wanted to make a change.)
you moved your ass, pressing it close to where you felt suguru's hips were. and you moved your face closer to satoru's.
you saw it, the way satoru's mouth twitched upward.
as you make your move, satoru's eyes flicker open, blue eyes meeting your gaze with a look of surprise that quickly melts into a slow, sensual smile. "well, well, well... looks like someone's feeling adventurous," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with sleep. his hand slides from the back of your neck to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your lower lip teasingly.
behind you, suguru stirs, his grip on your waist tightening possessively as he nuzzles into your hair, pulling you closer to him. "mmm, I think our cutie is trying to tell us something," he rumbles, his breath hot against your neck. you can feel the growing hardness pressing against your ass, a testament to his own awakening desire.
satoru leans in closer, his lips a hairsbreadth away from yours. "is this what you want, sweetheart? to pick up where we left off last night?" his words are a low purr, his eyes darkening with lust as they roam over your face, lingering on your parted lips.
your heart races, your skin tingling with anticipation. you nod slightly, your nose brushing against his, your breath mingling with his own. "yes please," you whisper, your voice barely audible but heavy with want.
suguru chuckles softly, his hand sliding up from your waist to cup your breast through your shirt. he squeezes gently, his thumb finding your nipple and rolling it between his fingers, coaxing it to stiffen beneath the thin fabric and making you let out a gasp. "I thought you might say that," he murmurs, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.
satoru takes your hesitation as invitation, closing the remaining distance between you and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. his mouth is every bit as soft and warm as you imagined, his lips moving skillfully against yours as he explores your mouth with a hunger that steals your breath away. you can taste the faint flavor of toothpaste and something uniquely satoru. a heady combination that makes your head spin and your core clench with need.
suguru then takes the opportunity to slip your shirt up and over your head, breaking the kiss only long enough for the fabric to clear your face. he tosses your shirt aside carelessly, leaving you bare from the waist up. his hands immediately find your breasts again, palming the soft mounds, his thumbs immediately find your breasts again, palming the soft mounds, his thumbs teasing your nipples into stiff peaks.
satoru groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you and settling in your core like a physical ache. he breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips down the column of your throat, "fuck, you taste even better than I imagined," he growls, his hands sliding down your sides to grip your hips possessively.
behind you, suguru's hands skim down your stomach, his fingers dipping teasingly beneath the waistband of your panties. "and you're just as responsive," he murmurs, his lips curving into a wicked grin against your neck. "I can feel how wet you are, sweetheart."
confident enough, you reach out, your hands finding their chests. you can feel the firmness of their muscles, the way they tense beneath your touch. suguru's chest is broader, more muscular, while satoru's is leaner, all hard lines and defined contours but both are warm and smooth.
suguru takes advantage of your distraction, hooking his fingers into your panties and tugging them down your legs. you lift your hips instinctively, helping him remove the last barrier between you and their questing hands. the cool air against your heated flesh makes you shiver, your thighs clenching together for a moment before suguru parts them with his knee, settling between them.
satoru watches, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight of your naked body splayed out between them. "god, you're gorgeous," he breathes, his hand sliding down your stomach to cup your mound. his fingers find your slit, stroking through the slick folds teasingly. "and so fucking wet. is this all for us, sweetheart?"
behind you, suguru nips at your earlobe, his hand sliding around to grip your ass. "we're going to make you feel so good," he promises, trailing kisses down your neck.
satoru parts your slick folds with his fingers, his middle finger delving deep inside you. you gasp, your back arching off the bed as he starts to pump his finger in and out of you, his thumb finding your clit and circling the sensitive nub in tight, teasing circles.
behind you, suguru takes the opportunity to slip a finger into your mouth, you suck his fingers. he pumps it slowly, matching the rhythm of satoru's finger fucking your pussy. "that's it, darling. let us make you feel good," he coaxes, his lips and teeth teasing your shoulder.
satoru leans down, his tongue latching onto one of your nipples before drawing it into his mouth. he sucks hardas he fucks you with his finger, curling it to rub against that special spot inside you that makes your toes curl.
you can feel the hard, hot length of satoru's cock pressing against your hip, the thick shaft throbbing with his heartbeat. behind you, suguru grinds his own erection against the cleft of your ass, the friction delicious and maddening all at once.
"please," you whimper, your hips rolling instinctively to meet their touches, to chase the pleasure they're building inside you. "please, I need... I need..."
"you need to be filled," satoru finishes for you, his voice a low, rough growl. "you need to be stretched around our cocks, need to feel us deep inside this tight little pussy." to emphasize his point, he adds a second finger, pumping them harder, faster, his palm grinding against your clit with every thrust.
behind you, suguru chuckles, the sound dark and filled with promise. "we're going to fill every hole, baby. gonna claim this body in every way possible."
"open your mouth, sweetheart," suguru commands softly, his voice low and heavy with desire.
you obey instinctively, parting your lips to let out a gasp as satoru’s fingers continue to move on your dripping pussy. suguru takes advantage of your open mouth, his fingers gripping your chin to hold you steady as he brings his rigid cock to your lips.
"tongue out, baby," he murmurs, the head of his cock brushing against your bottom lip, smearing the bead of pre-cum that has gathered at the tip. "get a taste of what's to come."
you extend your tongue, your taste buds tingling as the salty-sweet flavor of his arousal explodes across your senses. your lips wrap around the swollen head, your mouth stretching to accommodate his girth as he pushes forward, inch by hard inch disappearing past your lips.
suguru groans, his grip on your chin tightening slightly as he fights the urge to thrust forward, to bury himself to the hilt in your hot, willing mouth. "fuck, that's it," he grunts, his hips rocking subtly, fucking your face with shallow little thrusts that let you feel every throbbing vein and ridge of his thick cock.
under you, gojo’s fingers never stop their relentless pumping, his thumb rubbing tight circles around your clit. "take it, sweetheart. take his cock like a good girl. show him how much you want it."
you moan around the thick flesh stretching your lips, your tongue fluttering along the underside of suguru’s shaft as he starts to thrust faster, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm. you can feel him hitting the back of your throat with every pump of his hips, can feel your throat constricting around him, trying to pull him deeper.
suguru’s fingers tighten in your hair, gripping the strands as he starts to fuck your face in earnest, his cock driving in and out of your mouth, your lips stretched wide around his girth. drools starts to leak from the corners of your mouth, your chin and cheeks glistening with saliva and pre-cum as he uses your mouth.
"shit, your mouth feels so good," he grunts, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper down your throat. you can feel the head pushing against the back of your throat with every thrust, making you gag and choke around his thick length.
satoru’s fingers pick up their pace, plunging into your dripping cunt with a speed that has your body shaking.
you moan around geto’s shaft, the obscene sound muffled by the thick flesh stuffed into your mouth. your tongue works the underside, tracing the pulsing veins and ridges, savoring the salty-sweet taste of his arousal.
suguru sets a punishing pace, fucking your face with a intensity that makes your eyes water and your lungs burn for air. but you don't stop him, don't pull away.
he throws his head back, a low groan tearing from his throat as he hilts himself fully in your mouth, his cock pulsing and throbbing, the thick head lodged in the tight passage of your throat. "fuck, I'm going to cum," he warns.
“that's it, sweetheart. cum all over my fingers like the dirty little slut.” you feel your body tensing, your toes curling as the coil of tension in your belly winds tighter and tighter. your pussy clenches around gojo’s plunging fingers, the slick walls fluttering wildly as your orgasm approaches. geto’s cock pulses in your mouth, the thick shaft throbbing against your tongue as he chases his own release.
with a final, brutal thrust, suguru hilts himself fully in your throat, his heavy balls slapping against your chin. "fuck, I'm cumming!" he roars, his fingers twisting almost painfully in your hair as hot, thick ropes of cum shoot down your throat. you feel the liquid heat of his seed filling your throat.
at the same time, satoru pinches your clit hard, the sharp sting sending you hurtling over the edge into ecstasy. your pussy clamps down on his fingers like a vice, rippling and squeezing, letting a scream of pure pleasure errupt from your stuffed mouth, the sound muffled and distorted but unmistakable.
wave after wave of bliss washes over you, your body shuddering and shaking, back arching as your cunt gushes around gojo’s fingers, drenching his hand in your juices. geto grunts and groans above you, his cock pulsing as he slips it out of your dripping mouth.
satoru doesn't let up, continuing to fuck your spasming pussy through your climax, drawing out your pleasure until it borders on pain. suguru’s grip on your hair keeps you in place, holding you steady.
a strand of saliva and cum connects your lips to suguru’s shaft before breaking, allowing him to tuck himself away. satoru slows his movements, his fingers gentling in your over-sensitive flesh.
you collapse back onto the bed, chest heaving, sweat dampening your skin.
“oh, we’re not done yet, sugar.” satoru announces. geto pats his lap, you obey by lifting yourself up and moving to him.
he guides your back to his chest, his hard cock still pulsing and pressing onto your the flesh of your back.
suguru finds your jaw and starts trailing kisses down to your neck and shoulders while satoru busies himself in your mouth. then he leans over one of your nipples before drawing it into his mouth. “mmm, these tits are perfect," he murmurs against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.
satoru chuckles darkly. "you like that, sweetheart? you like having both of us all over you, touching you, tasting you?" he purrs, his fingers sliding out of your dripping cunt. he brings them to his lips, making a show of licking your juices from the digits, his eyes never leaving yours.
"delicious. almost as sweet as your pretty little mouth."
with his other hand, satoru grips your hip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he lines himself up with your entrance. you can feel the thick head of his cock nudging against your slick folds, the heat of him searing your skin. "I'm going to fuck this tight pussy now," he announces, his voice low and rough with desire. "I'm going to fill you up so good, sweetheart.“
suguru switches to your other breast, his lips and tongue lavishing the same attention on the neglected nipple. he bites down, just hard enough to make you gasp, before soothing the sting with his tongue. then, his hand slides down your stomach, his fingers dipping teasingly into your navel before moving lower, lower, until they're brushing against your slick, swollen lips.
satoru then chooses that moment to thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth, powerful stroke. a guttural moan tears from his throat as your pussy stretches around him, your walls fluttering wildly at the sudden invasion.
a shivering gasp leaves your lips.
“fuck, you're so tight," gojo grunts, his hips already starting to move, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, setting a hard, deep rhythm. "so fucking perfect and tight and mine."
suguru’s teeth close around your nipple, biting down just hard enough to make you cry out, the sound swallowed by satoru’s lips claiming your mouth in a bruising kiss.
suguru’s fingers then dance over your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight, rapid circles. at the same time, gojo pistons his hips, driving into you with deep, powerful thrusts that rock your entire body. the dual stimulation has you seeing stars, your back arching off the bed as you moan into satoru’s mouth.
suguru releases your nipple with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your red, throbbing flesh. "look at you, taking his cock like you were made for it," he praises, his voice a low, approving rumble. "such a good girl for us."
gojo growls into your mouth, his tongue dominating yours, claiming you thoroughly. his hand grips your hip harder, pulling you onto his thrusts, forcing you to take him deeper, harder, faster. the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and the creaking of the bed frame.
suguru’s fingers dip lower, teasing your entrance where satoru’s cock isn't plunging in and out. he gathers your slick arousal, bringing his coated fingers to your lips. "taste yourself, sweetheart," he coaxes, pressing his fingers against your lips.
you part your lips obediently, your tongue darting out to lick his digits clean. the flavor of your own essence explodes across your taste buds, and you can't help but moan at the erotic taste. gojo swallows the sound greedily, his hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm.
"that’s it, baby. taste how sweet you are," geto praises, his fingers sliding from your lips to brush against satoru’s, slick with your juices. "you’re dripping all over his cock. he must feel so good inside this greedy little cunt."
the white haired boy pulls back from the kiss, his eyes dark and wild as he takes in the sight of you, lost in pleasure, fucking yourself back onto his cock with abandon. "fuck, I'm getting close," he grunts, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more urgent. "gonna fill this pussy up. pump you full of my cum."
geto leans in, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear,
his voice drops to a dark murmur, his breath hot against your ear. "and I'm going to watch him do it.“ his hand slides around to grip your ass, squeezing the cheek hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. "come on, beg for it, sweetheart. beg him to fill you up. let me hear how badly you want it."
gojo snarls, his hips slamming forward with a newfound ferocity. the headboard of their bed slams against the wall with each powerful thrust, the sound echoing through the room like a carnal drumbeat. "I can feel you squeezing me. you want it, don't you? want me to pump you full of my hot, thick cum?"
"yes, please!" you cry out, your voice breaking on a scream as another orgasm crashes through you. your pussy clamps down on satoru’s pistoning cock like a vice, rippling and fluttering wildly around the thick shaft.
"please, fill me up! I want it, I want your cum, please give it to me!"
suguru lets out a groan, his cock throbbing on your back at the erotic sight of you coming undone on satoru’s cock, begging so sweetly for his release. "that’s it, baby. milk his cock. make him give you what you need," he urges, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass.
with another groan, Satoru hilts himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he starts to cum. his hot, thick seed shoots deep into your spasming cunt, painting your walls white just like suguru promised. he grinds against your cervix, making sure every last drop takes root inside you.
suguru watches, enraptured, his hand fisting around his own throbbing cock. the sight of you stuffed full of gojo’s cum, your belly slightly distended from the sheer volume, has him panting harshly. "fuck, that's so hot," he breathes, his eyes roaming over your debauched body hungrily. "such a perfect little cum dump for us."
as gojo starts to pull out of you, geto’s hand slides up your body, his fingers brushing over your sensitive nipples, making you shiver.
"such a good girl, taking him so well," he praises, his voice rough with lust. "you look so beautiful like this, filled to the brim."
satoru pulls out of you slowly, his cock slipping from your well-used hole with a gush of his cum. he watches, transfixed, as his cum starts to leak out of you, dribbling down the curve of your ass. "fuck, that was intense," he says, his voice wrecked and sated. "you were incredible, sweetheart."
suguru chuckles, his hand sliding down to catch some of the leaked cum on his fingers and pushing it back inside your fluttering pussy.
the gesture making your toes curl at the gesture. satoru’s watches, his eyes dark and hungry watching you.
"mmm, you look so fucking hot right now," satoru murmurs, his hand coming down to rub the curve of your belly, feeling the slight bulge of his cum inside you. "I can't believe I got to be the one to fill up this perfect pussy first."
"don’t worry, darling," suguru assures, his lips curving into a wicked grin. "I’ll get my turn soon enough. we’re nowhere near done with you yet."
after the steamy fucking the three of you collapse into a tangle of sweat-slicked limbs and satisfied sighs. satoru and suguru sandwich you between them, their strong arms wrapped around you protectively. they stroke your hair, your skin, murmuring words of praise and affection as you all catch your breath.
suguru presses soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, your jaw, his lips lingering on your skin like he's trying to commit the taste of you to memory. "you did so well, sweetheart," he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. "took us beautifully, like you were made for this."
satoru nuzzles into your neck, inhaling deeply, breathing in the scent of your hair. "such a good girl," he agrees, his hand cupping your cheek, tilting your face towards him so he can capture your lips in a slow, deep kiss. it’s a kiss full of tenderness and something more, something that makes your heart skip a beat.
they hold you close, their bodies warming you, their hands soothing you as the afterglow settles over you like a cozy blanket. you can feel the steady rhythm of their hearts, hear the even sound of their breathing, and you know that in this moment, you are exactly where you're meant to be.
"rest now, darling," suguru murmurs, his fingers tracing patterns on your hip. "you’ve earned it. we’ll be right here when you wake up."
satoru presses another kiss to your lips, soft and sweet. "sweet dreams, sweetheart. we’ll make sure you're taken care of." he strokes your hair, his touch gentle and soothing.
in the warm cocoon of their embrace, you feel safe, cherished, and utterly content. your eyelids grow heavy, the events of the night catching up to you as you drift off to sleep, surrounded by the two people who have shown you such pleasure, such bliss, such overwhelming ecstasy.
as you slip into slumber, you hear their voices, low and murmured, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter.
"we should do this more often," suguru suggests, a hint of a smile in his voice.
"agree," gojo responds, his hand resting possessively on your hip, claiming you even in sleep.
"but next time, I call dibs on fucking first." suguru says.
"greedy, aren't you?" satoru teases, a hint of laughter in his voice. "alright, but only if I get to watch. I want to see that cute ass jiggle as she bounces on your cock."
"deal," suguru agrees, a grin spreading across his face at the thought of sinking into your tight heat again. "sweet dreams, sweetheart. we’ll be right here when you wake up, ready for round two."
and that’s when it hits you.
maybe you didn’t hate them after all.
maybe you hated how easy it was to feel invisible next to people who seemed so sure of themselves—and how terrifying it was to want to be seen by them anyway.
and you thought to yourself as you feel sleep creeping up to you, the girls are gonna bust a nerve when they hear about this.
masterlist | tootsuro all rights reserved. do no steal.
you wake up with a skull-splitting hangover and a phone that won’t stop vibrating against your palm.
you groan, eyes still closed, fumbling until you manage to answer.
“—oh thank god you’re alive,” utahime blurts the second the call connects. “where the hell are you? you vanished last night and you haven’t answered your phone once. do you have any idea how worried—”
“utahime,” you mumble, voice rough, tongue thick. “slow down. please. I’m alive. I think.”
you crack one eye open, bracing yourself for the familiar sight of your dorm ceiling. you must’ve blacked out and gone home on autopilot. again.
it wouldn’t be the first time you ditched a party early, curled into your own bed, and slept it off.
except… this isn’t your room.
you push yourself up slightly, the movement sending your head spinning. navy-blue sheets wrinkle beneath your palms. it was definitely not yours. your breath catches as your gaze lands on a broad back in front of you.
his white hair spills messily over a pillow. he groans when you shift, arm instinctively tightening around the space you’d been occupying.
your stomach drops.
then there’s movement on your other side. a quiet, low sound—half sigh, half groan. you turn your head slowly, dread pooling in your chest when you find long black hair fanned across the same navy sheets. geto’s face is peaceful in sleep, lashes resting against his cheeks like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
utahime is still talking, her voice fading into static as realization hits you all at once.
you’re not just in a bed.
you’re in their bed.
“utahime,” you whisper, staring at the ceiling like it might offer answers. after long pause from you, she urged another "what is it?" obviously curious of what you had to say.
Synopsis. Geto Suguru cannot love. Geto Suguru cannot long. Geto Suguru cannot desire to touch—and especially not a non-sorcerer such as you. Not in his past, his present, nor his future. That’s until a visit from the three ghosts of Christmas might just force him into admitting the one wish he’s been denying himself all these years: you. In his bed.
Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, cuIt leader!Geto, based on A Christmas Carol (2009), canon fix-it, takes place during JJK 0, three ghosts, slight angst, hurt + comfort, TIME TRAVEL, pIot, YEARNING Geto, forbidden Iove (you’re a non-sorcerer), feraI Geto, pússydrúnk Geto, oraI (fem rec.), fíngering, p sIapping, spítting, he's DESPERATE, overstím, DÚMBIFlCATION, manhandIing, matíng presses, BRÉEDlNG, mentions of kids, overspiIIing, possessive Geto, mentions of the future, creampíes, cúmpIay, confessions, second chances, getting together, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 14.5k
A/N. Happy holidays from Santa Tony!!
24th of December, Christmas Eve.
Geto Suguru couldn’t love you.
But that wouldn’t explain a single thing he did.
His temple’s red torii gates had a curse stationed upon either side to alert him whenever someone walked through it - those seeking his healing, yes - but one non-sorcerer above all. He couldn’t explain that. He’d ordered some of his association members to sweep that empty room just a hallway down his own on a daily basis, in anticipation of someone’s visit - an anticipation of you, unspoken. He couldn’t explain that.
He was currently seated at a long table with the closest of his association ‘family’ discussing plans for tonight. It was the very day these last ten years had been leading up to: the day he was going to put an end to non-sorcerers.
Today, the most important day of his life. Humans, the most hated kind in his heart.
And yet—there was one human in his mind.
You.
He couldn’t explain that.
Geto runs a hand through his long silken hair, letting the edges curl around his fingers like tendrils of night. Swallow him up.
He remembers how, in middle school, he used to be a source of envy for boys and girls alike because of this very hair. They’d braid it. They’d pin flowers in it. He wonders where those little human classmates of his were now. Doing well? As much as a human could. Dead? Well, after tonight…Now he can’t remember the last time he combed his own hair without Nanako and Mimiko gently sitting him down and doing it themselves, after a long while spent seeing their pseudo-father accumulate knots. Unsolvable knots.
Geto would’ve cut it all off if it didn’t mean looking in the mirror and seeing his father look back at him.
Then again, you did tell him you found his hair beautiful one time.
He lets out a subconscious sigh, and that seems to catch the attention of those around him.
“Pa—I mean! Geto-sama, you seem tired.” Nanako’s bleached hair quivers as she leans in concern, her painted lips pouting together. Her and her sister were the ones seated closest to him - on either side just like two arms. “You’re starting to get, like, eye-bags and crease lines! You should just get some rest already-”
Just as Geto was raising his hand to wave off Nanako’s worries with a smile- “It’s true, Geto-sama.” Her sister’s speaking up. The darker-haired of the twins looks at him seriously, “Don’t think we haven’t noticed that you haven’t been sleeping much these days. Are you…” She hesitates, “Are you having second thoughts-”
“Never.” Geto says, firmly. “Never.”
She breathes out and he isn’t quite sure whether it’s in acceptance or relief, “Then please remember that rest is important in any well-executed plan.”
“I don’t believe I have given you any reason to think that I should fail in my plan?” Geto asks, his simpering smile spreading across his face.
And the reactions are instant—
“No! No please do not misunderstand me, Geto-sama.” Mimiko protests.
“You would never fail us, Geto-sama-”
“I love you, Geto-sama~”
“What the twins say is true.” Miguel’s the only one to cross his strong arms across his chest, gaze piercing even though his perpetual shades. He levels a look down at Geto, “Just as we trust your leadership, Geto-sama, you have to trust that your family will be just as competent.”
Geto almost chuckles, “I know my family is competent.”
“Then let us handle the rest of it, Geto-sama!” Nanako pips up in determination, to which her twin nods fervently. “Right now all that’s left is to revise your masterful plan- so you just get some sleep and we’ll wake you up before it’s time for action!”
Their dark-haired leader makes a noise of weak dismissal, “But-”
“We promise we have it all covered!”
That particular sentence was followed by some passionate tones of agreement echoed around the room, drowning out Geto’s slight protest with ease.
He heaves out a meaningful sigh, he did admit that his eyelids were feeling heavier day by day. There was a fatigue he couldn’t explain that had taken up permanent residence in his bones - it had become one with him. He admits that part of it likely had something to do with the sleepless nights spent poring over their battle strategies, but part of it seemed to stem from something else, too…
He just wished he knew what.
Geto shakes his head free of the thought, and hopes it looks like he’s just shaking his head fondly at his family. “You all…” And with only the briefest hesitation, he’s bracing his hands upon either arm of his chair and standing up. “On Christmas eve, we will commence our widescale attack on Shinjuku including Tokyo Jujutsu High. You are to wake me one hour before the plan is to be executed, and not a single minute later.”
They breathe out sighs of relief, and Larue announces- “Anything for you, Geto-sama~!”
Geto Suguru takes one last glance behind him as he leaves the meeting room: the handful of sorcerers that he considered his true family. They pored over scraps of paper with his own neat handwriting displayed on them, reading through the perfect attack positions and hiding corners in Tokyo Jujutsu High. He would know.
They beam at him, and he can’t help but crack an easy smile back—yes, maybe this truly was the way it’s supposed to be. They would wake him up.
In the next few minutes, Geto’s walking through the sprawling corridors of his temple. Quite the large building. Quite the ancient building. Quite the secretive building - even before a maddened cult leader had come to take residence in this place.
The well-polished wooden floors seemed to creak with invisible footsteps, and towering beams held up a gilded roof. It dappled soft patterns on a garden that was now desolate and dusted with the first frost of Christmas. Those specks of nothingness lifted with a winter draft, seeping in through the cracks of the floor-to-ceiling sliding panels. Seeping inside.
From the slices of the outside that Geto could see through the panel, he spots a singular paper red paper strip tied to a nearby pine. It was one of those long vertical papers that people wrote wishes on - your work, surely. Not many people came to this temple to wish.
All he has to do is reach his arm through the half-open divider to catch the flapping wishing paper—I wish for a peaceful new year for us all (especially the ever-stressed Geto-sama!!)
Geto chuckles, before his eyes dip further.
And may my love come true.
And then his gaze narrows.
He’s not quite sure what that sudden stab of pain in his chest means - nor does he have the time and patience to ponder upon it, really. Pondering is what turns such things dangerous. It’s best to leave some thoughts untouched, if you don’t think about it then it hasn’t happened.
Somewhat.
Geto’s tearing the wishing paper off the tree and tucking it into his sleeve, striding his way into his bedroom. The only time that he actually slows down is when he passes by the bedroom that had been allocated to you.
You were Shoko’s friend before his. And to this day, he still isn’t quite sure what made you follow him to his doom that day of his defection rather than staying behind with the friends you always knew and trusted - and Geto Suguru hadn’t asked, either. He’s sure it was a long story anyways.
The only right he’d done by you was refusing to kill you.
At least until tonight, he’s not sure what will happen once his plans are thrown into motion - the eradication of all non-sorcerers, how sweet it had sounded when he first said it.
And it wasn’t as if you were entirely oblivious to his schemes, either. You were an honorary member of his association, he supposes, and he knows that most members don’t understand why you were here either. You had your own life. You had an office job. You had a family. You had connections with the outside world—and yet, when the clock hit 5PM at the end of your shift and your friends all made their excuses to go home, the only home you went to was Geto Suguru.
He still didn’t understand why. He would never.
Nor does he know why he peaks his head inside your bedroom with a knock at your door, a subtle smile spreading across his face at the vision of you on your bed and reading. “Am I interrupting?” He always said that non-sorcerers had a certain stench to them - that stench of weakness.
He’s always found that he basks in your flowery scent.
“Oh? Look who came back down to Earth.” You’re looking up from your book and smiling - far wider and far brighter than he ever could nor would deserve. “I thought you’d be locked up inside that meeting room until New Year’s.”
“If we were then we wouldn’t be able to carry out the plan.” Geto reminds you—our plan. As if you would ever concoct such a thing when it was entirely him.
“Ah, of course.” You close your book and swing your legs to place your feet on the floor with utmost casualness. Staring at him for what feels like a lingering few seconds, before you finally sigh. He never wanted that sound of tiredness to leave your mouth ever again. “Then I suppose this might be a good time to tell you that I’m leaving the temple. For good.”
He shouldn’t feel as shocked as he does, “What-”
“Oh c’mon, Suguru.” You’re still maintaining your smile, with a glint of exasperated fondness. But how could you just smile at him like that? How could you smile? Tone almost as if you were soothing a crying child and nothing more than that, “Don’t look so shocked, we both knew this day was going to come.”
Was it him? Was it he who made you sound so exhausted? “I don’t understand. The plan-”
“Constitutes that all non-sorcerers are to be eradicated for the betterment of jujutsu society.” You finish off for him, and he’s slightly taken aback by how you’ve memorized his very words. Geto never realized how many mealtimes shared with you that he must have spent talking about this plan. He never realized. The smile on your face grows slightly sad now, “And I know what you see me as.”
What? He wants to demand, but the word never comes out.
“I should’ve hoped that after ten years I- nevermind.” You’re cutting yourself off and looking away from him—and he wants to tell you to continue. He wants to. But what right does he have when he can’t even speak his mind freely himself? “I have never hoped to change you. Not then, and I certainly will not right now. But I can’t stand to have my blood stain this temple.”
You’re standing up then, and his hands reach out to you before his mind can fully compute why.
You don’t seem to notice his abrupt movement, only rounding the bed and crouching down where your bags were in the middle of being packed. “When you succeed-”
“If I succeed?”
With your back turned to him like this, he couldn’t make out the expression on your face as you continue speaking. He almost wants to walk up to you and turn you around to face him himself. “I only ask that it doesn’t have to be you personally- send someone else to kill me off. Maybe Miguel or Negi. I’ll be in Sendai.”
He clenches his jaw, that very same outreached hand now clenching at his side. “You wish to be killed by Miguel or Negi?”
“Any one of your family.” Your tone doesn’t reveal a thing, and you speak as if a silent part of Geto hadn’t been counting you amongst his family for a long, long time now. “Just not you. Not even one of your curses.”
“Just not me.” Geto repeats, hollow.
And, before, in high school he always did end up knowing the right thing to do. He always did end up knowing the right thing to say. He always did end up knowing the right thing to feel. Or, at least, what felt like it to him at the time.
But this Geto Suguru doesn’t.
This Geto Suguru is more lost than he was at seventeen.
He turns his back to you as you were doing to him, he wonders if you can hear his silent movements. Gaze lowered to the polished wood underneath his sandals, “I understand.” He takes his first step out of the human’s bedroom, it rings out emptily. Geto Suguru was never too good at goodbyes. “I will see to it that your final wish is followed.”
He hears your soft sobs follow him to his own bedroom.
.
.
.
Geto’s sleep is fitful and more painful than if he’d have stayed awake.
He doesn’t remember the walk back from your room and changing into his softest robes, but he does remember hoping that by changing his clothes, perhaps, he could shed the weight that seemed to have settled in his chest. It doesn’t quite work and he sleeps facing upright.
It hurts. It hurts.
At one point he wakes up wondering whether he should ask for Negi or someone to call for the association’s healer. At another he wakes up with his tears plastering his cheek to the pillow and he’s not quite sure why, brain sleep-muddled enough that he thinks they may have been your tears. But you weren’t here, and you will never be now.
At another point he wakes up and it’s all darkness.
Geto’s blinking his slightly swollen eyes at the void that doesn’t need to blink—what was the time? When he’d fallen asleep, the soft blush of dusk was still filtering in from his window - but right now it was darker than it would be at the pitch dead of night. Like a thick veil covering the outlines of his curtains, his furniture, his own self.
Did they forget to wake him up? Fuck- he hastens to reach out and slam a hand down on the cuboid alarm placed on his bedside table. Squinting at the darkness for a sign of those green digital numbers and—
Nothing.
Geto sits up and claws at the darkness to grab that damned clock in his hands- stupid human junk. He’s pressing every button on it that he can feel for and physically shaking it to get it to work. And yet, its dead clock face only seems to laugh and laugh and laugh at him-
“That won’t work, Geto-san!” Comes a soft, boyish voice - almost a whisper, almost the soft breath of wind that he could’ve explained away as the sounds exhaled from outside his window had it not been for the way that every single hair on his body raises. Cold fear gripping him for the first time in ten years. And Geto stills. “Time is irrelevant here.”
Because he knew that voice from anywhere.
In a movement so sharp and so primal that it nearly gives him whiplash- Geto Suguru drops the alarm and faces the foot of the bed.
Before him stands a man- a boy, more like. And the moment he sets his sights on him, Geto doesn’t know how he ever missed him.
This sudden ray of light in the night.
Grinning. Beaming.
Not only in his expression, but in every particle he was made up of. It was obviously not a person of this realm: body composed of what looked like a golden mist faintly shaping into the figure of a human, rays of light casting wherever he hovered, the flares of his existence flickering as if the darkness within Geto’s room was threatening to swallow him whole. In the hazy outline of his round face, Geto could see the warmest smile he’d seen in some time now. Other than yours. In his hand, he sees that this…thing held an oversized candle snuffer made of brass.
Past that, he could only see the semi-translucent upper half of the boy, but he already knew that his feet didn’t touch the floor. Didn’t have to. And had it been anyone but who Geto knew him to be, then he would’ve thought himself gone mad to think that this was some apparition and not a Special Grade curse.
Still, he uses his cursed technique to mentally summon every cursed being he knows - and finds that none appear before the ghost of Haibara Yu.
His entire body feels as though someone had poured ice-cold water over him.
Geto’s feet push him further and further up the mattress until he hits the wooden headboard, words coming out as if he’d just run a marathon. “You’re-” Cutting himself off with a burst of his own cursed energy, as if to exorcise this being. “You can’t be-”
The boy only grins wider.
And Geto’s voice almost breaks, “You aren’t-”
“Have you forgotten me already, Geto-san?” Brief sadness flickers in Haibara’s eyes - before he’s hovering closer to the other man, and Geto’s scrambling away from him like a madman. “I didn’t think it’s been that long.”
“It’s been ten years—” And Geto Suguru has seen dead bodies. He’s even seen dead bodies become reanimated with the help of jujutsu. But this was Haibara—young, grinning, happy Haibara with his soft eyes and his softer heart.
The Haibara that he’d welcomed with an over-the-top party on his first day at school. The Haibara that he’d share his rice with when it was too much. The Haibara that he remembered that last conversation about sweets with before his final mission. Haibara that lay cold and dead on Tokyo Jujutsu High’s examination table.
Geto was twenty-seven and Haibara was still sixteen.
That bowl-cut of his just the way he remembered - but when has he ever looked this much like a child? Or maybe it’s just Geto who’s grown up. “It’s been ten years and you’re not supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to be alive-”
“And I am not, Geto-san.” Haibara smiles sadly, and the other man wonders just why he made others make that expression. In every route of his life, in every realm.
The golden figure floats away slightly, and Geto lunges after it- “Who summoned you-”
“No one.”
“Which human practiced the occult-”
“No one.”
“What cursed technique then-”
“No one’s, Geto-san.” Haibara finally utters, just as patient as he remembered him. He floats around the corners of the room as if inspecting, “I am no one’s son.” Placing a hand on the wall that Geto’s room shared with yours, “Someone is crying here, Geto-san.”
Something wounded within Geto twitches, and he finally bows his head. He finds that he was kneeling on the mattress - when did that happen? When did his voice grow to be such a tired, dreary thing? “What do you want from me, Yu?”
“So you do remember me!” The boy gleefully laughs, hovering a full lap around the grand room before coming to a stop before the grim-faced man. And Geto almost wants to ask—how could he forget? It was hard not to look back at Haibara when he peered up at Geto in such a way, “I am the ghost of your past, Geto-san.”
“The past?” He asks, growing more and more confused by the second.
“Your past.” And before Geto knows it, the younger boy has one warm hand clasped around his. Feeling like the soft fan of early morning sunlight on his skin, he tugs Geto to his feet and leads him in the direction of the doorway. “Rise—and walk with me.”
Where Geto was sure they’d be walking out into the hallway of the temple, he blinks as they step through the door frame and finds himself…in another room entirely.
It was one that wouldn’t have looked out of place in any school, really.
Your average seats and desks. Your average windows. Your average mediocre artwork lining the walls. Your average human students that buzzed and flittered about in a way they only could when the teacher was out.
He gasps, swivelling behind him to find that the door to his bedroom had disappeared.
And in its place was an open classroom door, kids whizzing by in the corridor.
The only reason that Geto even knew that this was his middle school was because of the tiny version of him, with his feet propped on the desk like a king. Chair balanced on two legs. Handsome face raised into the air. Shoulder-length hair in the hands of one of his classmates. His father hadn’t been too far off when he claimed that his son would be popular, and it was quite the regular occurrence for him to be called out for confessions by both boys and girls - not that he paid too much attention to these fleeting emotions.
Not that he….
“I know…” Geto breathes out, barely even a whisper. There’s a knot in his throat that no amount of swallowing can deter, “I know this place…this was my old middle school.”
“Your lips are trembling.” Haibara observes, not unkindly. And as Geto turns away from him with his mouth tightened, the boy-ghost swiftly hovers to the other side of him. “And what is that? On your cheek, Geto-san?”
“Nothing.” He grits out, the back of his hand coming to swipe at his wet face. He hasn’t cried like this in ten years. Not this much. “There’s just something in my eye- it’s always so damn stuffy in this place.”
“Do you remember your days here?” The spirit asks softly.
“Remember?” Geto almost chuckles, “I live a thousand deaths reliving them.”
“Then look…” Haibara looks back and forth between the past version of Geto Suguru and the current. “I don’t remember you ever being so red, Geto-san. At least, not unless you were in the presence of her-”
They both peer at the old version of him.
“Shush, Yu.” Geto bites out, moving even closer to his flush-faced self. “I…I don’t remember myself being so red either. Who was—oh.”
His heart drops.
In a sea of faces, there are only a few that one can recognize at first glance.
To Geto, yours was right there at the top.
You were the one - undeniably the one - seated behind him. You were the one with your smaller fingers weaving through his silky hair and dividing it into sections. You were the one with an armful of flowers that you were carefully placing.
You hadn’t even been in his class-
“Isn’t young love sweet?” Haibara floats closer, pointing at the younger versions of yourselves: you, chattering on nervously as you fill the silence while braiding Geto’s hair, Geto pretending through a blush that he was registering a single word you said.
Humming absent-mindedly along, voice higher than Geto ever remembers it being.
Geto looks at him in question.
And Haibara always answers, “Those sweet middle-school memories you had? You can thank her for those- as you can thank her for many things. She wasn’t in your class, no—” And Geto wonders whether he can read his mind, “-but she did come to you at every lunchtime without fail. A friend of a friend. You two were friends by chance. You remember now, don’t you?”
His mouth parts, “I…I do-” How could he ever have forgotten?
“And you remember the day she left?” Before Geto can stop it, the background dissolves once more- except, it’s the same classroom. The same set of students. The same him.
It might as well have been the same day had it not been for one glaring absence - you.
And it was clearly affecting the Geto in the memory, as well. He seemed…dimmed. He had his head resting in his arms on the table, looking up alertly any time the classroom door opened—and then pushing right back down any time it wasn’t you. No one talked to him.
Geto looks away.
“It’s the first time you’ve been so upset, right, Geto-san?” Haibara questions, his eyes lowered with emotion. “Loss is something you’ve had to face from a young age, and I apologize-”
“You don’t need to apologize.” He almost snaps, looking back at the scene. “Her- what happened to her?”
“Family moved. Guardian’s promotion to Tokyo.” The spirit replies simply, “It was a sudden endeavor, she didn’t know it herself until it was time to leave.” And then Haibara cracks a sheepish smile, “If you thought you were upset, you should’ve seen her.”
He pleads, “But why didn’t she tell me-”
“Why didn’t you ask?” Those large eyes stare at him - once they were a beautiful brown, probing. Now they were golden. Now they were asking why he didn’t take the time to probe you, to know you, to even know what middle school you’d gone to-
“I didn’t…I didn’t remember-” Geto’s breath hitches, he felt the tears coming on once more.
Haibara wraps an arm around his dark-haired friend’s shoulder, “It’s understandable. It was just that summer that you discovered your cursed technique, Geto-san, I wouldn’t blame you. And you shouldn’t blame yourself.” He then attempts to put his arm around the other man’s shoulders, but ends up floating right through.
“I want to leave.” He whispers, and Haibara looks at him curiously. “Show me something else. Please.”
Haibara nods, but he looks at the past memory once again. “Poor, poor boy.”
Geto doesn’t know which version of him he’s talking about.
The golden spirit then reaches down to clasp Geto’s hand once more, now trembling and pale. “Come on…let’s see another past.” And Geto feels his surroundings melt away into nothingness and something entirely new once more
This time when he met you for the first time.
Well, when he met you again for the first time.
“—and this is Geto Suguru.” Shoko gestures towards the black-haired boy, slightly loose in his uniform. Ah yes, Geto remembers that she’d been the one to conduct the introductions between him and you, her best friend from her Tokyo middle school.
And he could see it only now, that slight sparkle of recognition in your eyes.
Mixed with the vagueness of something else the second he’d stuck his hand out in a fresh new introduction.
Something sad.
“Pleasure to meet you.” The past version of himself purrs, hair not pulled back in a bun as it had come to be in his second year. This was just a few months since he’d started at Tokyo Jujutsu High, he remembers, and the greenery of the campus grounds had never looked more lush. Everything had been alive those two springs. “Ieri here has talked a lot about you.”
“All good things, I hope.” You’d managed out a smile, and now he wonders how.
“Only.”
Shoko wrinkles her nose, “Don’t get caught up with this one, when he breaks your heart I’ll have to break his nose and Yaga would give me detention for that. Don’t wanna break my streak just yet.” His past self protests, though his current can only bitterly chuckle at the truth.
The short-haired girl then catches a flash of blue and white in the corner of her vision and groans, “And here comes the other one. He’s almost worse and will definitely hit on y-”
They’re flicking through more memories, remnants of such.
You’d hung out with the three of them sporadically after that. Geto sees the party they’d thrown for the first-years, Nanami and Haibara. Geto sees parts of missions he can’t remember—and then parts of a mission he can. The Star Plasma Vessel. Geto sees his last moments with Haibara, and when it looked like the spirit of his dead friend was about to stop on one particular moment where he’d first seen Haibara’s dead body- Geto reaches out and shakes his head.
To which Haibara had smiled sadly and kept going.
Ultimately, they stop on a busy road in Tokyo.
It was here that a younger him, donned in all black and keeping his head lowered, was weaving against the crush of the crowd. Step by step. Heartbeat by heartbeat. Unsure which one was the harder feat to accomplish.
Geto knew this moment. But he doesn’t remember it being so dim in this memory.
There was a trembling in his lip that he’d never noticed as Geto walked away from jujutsu society that day, walked away from his one and only best friend.
“Are you The Strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru? Or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re The Strongest?”
It was a long walk alone.
At least, until he’d bumped into…you.
“Watch where you’re-” The current Geto hovers nearby, seeing the exact moment that you look up and let your eyes widen in recognition. And as Geto turns to step aside and keep on walking- you’d reached out and clasped him by the fabric of his sweater. “Wait- wait, Suguru?” It’d been some time since he’d started spiralling, since you’d all hung out together - but you wouldn’t mistake that face for the world. “Where are you going looking like that? Why do you look so—”
Sad.
Geto now realizes it’s what you’d been trying to ask.
Instead, you’re questioning. “Are you alright?”
But he’d turned back to you with only a dead smile. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”
“I don’t know- Shoko told me you’ve just been a little…” You trail off, and he’s sure you’d been briefed well enough by your friend. Holding up the snacks in your hands. “I’m actually going to meet her right now, would you like to come with me?”
“I’m afraid not today.” He tilts his head, turning to leave once more.
But you hadn’t let up- gripping his soft fabric again. “Where are you going?” Perhaps feeling that you’d simply been asking too many questions, you blurt on. “Actually- it doesn’t matter, just take me with you!”
To this day, he doesn’t know why you’d asked to come with him. It’s what led to this in the first place.
He turns to Haibara with his mouth open in a question-
“Why?”
Geto snaps his head to his past version, he doesn’t remember this part.
“Wh-what?” You ask nervously.
“Why?” The younger him repeats.
“Because…” And his ghostly self was on edge awaiting your answer, knowing the him in this memory was far too much of a mess to remember. The metallic packets in your hand rustle as you squeeze them tighter, “Because it looks like you could use something to eat.”
He wants to reach out and touch you—he does. But his hand passes right through you, and Haibara clasps it instead.
“It is now-” He starts, his soft sibilance. “-it is here, that I leave you.”
“Wait-” Geto clamors forwards as the other man reaches for the candle snuffer that had been in his other hand this entire time, fingers gliding right through the mist of his body as he tries to stop his friend’s spirit. Perhaps to bind him to him. “Wait a minute, Yu-”
He only smiles sadly, “We will meet again, Geto-san.”
“No-” Geto feels his throat run ragged, “But there are so many more things I need to tell you- so many more things I need to ask you—did you suffer then? Are you suffering now? Please know that I’m sorry-”
“We will meet again.”
“Yu, don’t leave me—” He cries, “I miss you—”
“And just as I miss you, every candle must go out some time, Geto-san.” The top of Haibara’s bowl cut disappears beneath the brass, the only thing that one could see of him was his smile. He attempts to embrace him, but his arms go right through him. “Everything good and painful must come to an end.”
Darkness.
.
.
.
Light.
Blue.
Aquariums.
It’s the only thing that Geto sees at first, and though he can’t see it - he can feel the scorching summer sun basking down on him. It covered him entirely and birthed a glow behind his squinted eyelids. Gentle, at first, though slowly growing more painful the longer it lingered on his skin. Like a kiss grown too fierce.
Push and pull, the sighs of the waves.
When was the last time he’d been to the beach?
“Not in about ten years, stupid.” Oh.
Now that voice was harder to pinpoint than Haibara’s had been, though nevertheless striking a wound in him that he thought he’d bandaged up quite well all those years ago. It seems he wasn’t quite well at licking his wounds after all.
Geto hastily blinks his vision back and takes in the sight of none other than Riko Amanai before him. It was like a vision.
He remembers it all: the Okinawa beaches, the aquariums, the sound of a gunshot. The same black hair in pigtails. The same school uniform. The same wide dark eyes of hers that danced with mirth. The only start difference now was in the way she held a flaming torch in one hand, casting fiery shadows on the whirling aquariums around them. She wasn’t quite the candlelit vigil that Haibara had been, though something about her seemed much…grander than he remembers her being. As if he’d shrunk before her.
Geto’s eyes shift from her glowing figure to the taller woman next to him—ah, he does remember that she had a caretaker with her. Though her name he cannot remember.
“Misato Kuroi.” The older woman speaks, and even now she seems so much wiser than him. Was he getting close to her age? She shoots him a wry smile, “Though I do not blame you for forgetting, I bet you not to speculate my age.”
“M-my apologies.” He utters out.
“Haaaaah?” Riko drags out in a disbelieving tone, her eyes going wide with surprise. “Whaddaya mean you’re just gonna apologize like that? You were so much more fun back then- hmpf, now you’re like an old man-”
“Riko-san, please.” Misato begs.
And Riko quietens down, though she does not completely stop her grumbling. And though Geto might have been somewhat stunned into silence at first, he can’t help but plant a palm down on the girl’s head and ruffle her hair. Was she always this tiny? “No no- she’s right. I have become an old man as of late, haven’t I?”
Riko turns away from him with a harrumph and a string of muttered words.
“What’s that? Could almost hear ya.” Geto teases.
And she responds slightly louder, in a slightly choked-up tone. “And you’ve gotten all those dark circles and worry lines! You just look so tired- hmpf, old man.”
“Is that so?” Geto playfully asks, but he looks up at Misato who’d been examining.
“I’m afraid to say she’s right, Geto-san.” Misato sadly replies with a slightly bitter smile. “These ten years have been hard for you, haven’t they?”
He feels something clog up in his throat, and instantly looks away.
It’s Misato who first breaks the silence - still seemingly the only adult in the room, even after all this time. How ironic was that? “But that’s exactly what we’re here to help with, aren’t we, Riko-san?”
She places both hands on the shoulders of the girl with the torch, and lightly nudges her forward. “I guess…” The little girl sighs, looking at him meaningfully. “We’re the ghosts of your present. We represent peace, love, and the present—yours.”
Peace and love? Geto has the sudden thought that his present likely had none of that, though he keeps it to himself. He’s sure they can read his mind either way. “Take me wherever you want then, spirits.”
Riko and Misato look at each other.
She’s then raising the curdling torch as high as her arm could reach, casting an oasis of yellow on the glass of the aquariums around them. Aquariums—Geto has memories of those during his time on Okinawa. His first and his last.
“Touch the glass.” Riko announces.
And Geto doesn’t waste a second of his present.
The moment the edge of his fingertips rests on the cold glass, it feels as if he’s drowning. He can’t see. He can’t breathe. He can’t feel anything but the wash of water down his entire being as though a shower that had burst, as though he’s standing underneath a waterfall, as though he’s being dragged through a pool of cold water and ending up on the other side.
He gasps as soon as the water trickles away and he can finally take his breath.
“Wh-what the hell was that?” He sputters out, still feeling the faux water in his lungs. Looking down at himself to realize that not a single inch of him was actually wet- “That was the most unpleasant feeling-”
“Oh shut it, old man.” Riko interrupts, “And look.”
“Look whe- oh.” All he has to do is look up to know where he is. If his middle school classroom wouldn’t have looked out of place in any other school, then this particular one wouldn’t have looked in place anywhere but in Tokyo Jujutsu High.
It was the second years’ classroom.
Open space. Blackboard. Scuffed floor. Where the last remnants of the sun melted over the horizon and bled through the open windows, casting a glow on every wooden chair and desk. Ones that he was sure had his name doodled on some of them, along with a few more salacious drawings from his youth.
But Geto isn’t searching for them right now, he lets his eyes stay only to the man seated on the chair closest to the window. Legs propped up in a way that he’s surely gotten told off for before, balancing the chair on two feet as he looked at the sunset outside.
Gojo Satoru’s sadness was palpable even with his blindfold on.
“Satoru…” Geto takes a step forward, but there almost felt as though there was an invisible screen between the two of them. And he could not go any further.
Misato held him back with a kind hand on his shoulder, “Keep watching.”
Gojo rests in his contemplative silence, and he doesn’t know whether he’s seen his best friend brooding such as this ever before. Well…other than on the day he left. There was such sadness about being The Strongest.
There’s a soft knock on the door and the three beings from the other realm turn to see Shoko there. Her dark circles heavier than ever. “I see you’re taking your teaching duties with utmost seriousness.” She deadpans.
“Why, you know~” Gojo starts off. Before the smile falls from his face and he turns to the window once more, “He’ll be here tonight.”
“He will.”
“And the students-”
“Your students will be fine.” Shoko reassures, walking up to her longtime friend. She keeps a desk between them and takes a seat, gliding the tips of her fingers down the shaky engraving of her name on the wood. The empty desk stood loudly between them.
“I know.” Gojo sighs, “It’s not them.”
“Then?”
“It’s just…” And Geto has never seen the Gojo Satoru trail off a sentence, Geto has never seen Gojo Satoru struggle to put something into words. “It’s just the students that we were-”
Shoko waits patiently for his answer, and so does Geto.
But the only thing that Gojo’s doing is to bark out a laugh, so bitter. “How did it come to this, Shoko? What a way to spend Christmas eve.”
“Satoru.” Shoko looks away from her best friend, reaching deep in her pockets for a cigarette. Each occupant in that room right now startles at the sound of her phone starting to ring, and she looks at the screen before walking away. “Your students need you.”
A second knock rings out, and Geto only needs to hear his soft, stuttering voice to know that it’s that Yuta Okkotsu kid. Him and his curse.
His fists clench.
“Touch the glass, Geto.”
He does, and the scenery melts.
Whizzing past glimpses and gazes into the lives of the newest set of first years at the school, and then the association members right now who were planning pillage.
Until finally they stop. It’s the same sunset that reaches out through windows that are much narrower and of a darker wood than before…and yet a completely different room. He recognizes it to be the ones at the rooms of his temple, and never realized just how much more dreary they were in comparison to the sprawling windows at Tokyo Jujutsu High.
More specifically, he realizes he’s in your room.
Bags packed. Closet empty. You’re staring out the window.
Like a little lark aching to break free. You have your phone held against one ear, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that might have once-upon-a-time been his and a pair of underwear that makes his face heat. “Yeah…yeah, mhm…I know. I don’t think that it’s something I regret, Shoko.” Ah—Geto doesn’t think that he’s surprised it’s Shoko on the other end of the line. He knew that the two of you still met up occasionally, though you were always good at keeping the place of his hideout secret. “Yes, I would choose to go with him all over again.”
As you walk through your room you’re running your hands through the flat surfaces and crevices. Slight shadows of the items that had been here, you thumb over them sadly.
“No, you don’t need to pick me up- I can take a taxi, I promise.” You slightly chuckle, he doesn’t think he’s heard you laugh like that in a long time. “Of course I’m coming to see you first, who do you think I am?”
You stop before a stash of snacks you always had to share with some of the association, to share with Geto.
“I can’t wait.”
“What are we doing here?” Geto quietly asks, though he knows why.
“Keep listening.” Misato insists.
You’re turning your profile slightly to the side and oh…you have never looked more beautiful in his eyes. Even with the slight swelling around your eyes. “Why I did it?”
Geto feels his heart race.
“Because I love him, of course.”
Geto feels his heart drop.
He wanted to reach out to you.
He wanted to hold you.
And you’re sighing as if the weight of a thousand lifetimes had just been lifted off of your shoulders, as if you hadn’t just uttered a sentence that had slid the world out from underneath his feet. You turn back to your feet and say, “I honestly think I’ve got everything covered but I need to buy your Christmas gift still and—”
And it just sounds like everything is underwater now.
Geto turns to Riko in a panic- “But I didn’t even touch the-”
“Don’t be greedy, old man.” She knits her brows and pretends to be cross, before breaking out into such a sad smile. “It’s time, Geto.”
And before Geto knows it, she’s lunging forwards and wrapping her arms around him in an embrace. He doesn’t feel it, and he doubts she does either, considering the way her otherworldly arms seem to glide right through him.
But to him, it’s enough.
“Thank you, Geto Suguru.” Riko whispers, audible even above the pressure of bubbles and water and something mystical roaring in his ears. It increases and increases. It swings his body around. “For everything.”
Misato pats him the same way on the shoulder, “You will do great, Geto-san.”
He looks up at the two with tears in his eyes, movements slow as if he was engulfed in a bathtub right now. “Thank—”
Before the glass seems to shatter, and suddenly he can do nothing.
Darkness.
.
.
.
Light.
But the sort of light grey where it was the sun peeking out tentatively through the clouds as though a harried mother with a lantern: knocking on doors, calling out in garbled vain, seeking help from anyone that could help her find her missing son.
But he’d been long buried.
Geto Suguru stands before a grave.
He doesn’t know which cemetery this is - certainly nothing in Tokyo, nothing near where he’d buried his parents’ bodies himself. Just as he had killed them. It seems rather to be some sort of unmarked patch of land, where even the memories of souls went to die. Deader than dead. Darker than night. Done deal.
He looks around in alarm and finds that he wasn’t alone, beside him but unknowing that they were: Gojo Satoru, Shoko Ieri, Masamichi Yaga, and you. All of you with the surroundings to your eyes swollen and the whites within all red.
He could tell you all had been crying.
Yet another tear slips from behind Gojo’s mask.
You’re sobbing into your hands.
Gojo rests an arm around your shoulder and brings you soothingly to him, to which Geto can’t believe that he feels that stab of selfish jealousy. He wants to touch you. He wants to touch you. He wanted to touch you.
He’s wrenching his eyes away from the tragic sight and surveying his surroundings - it really was a dead place. Dreadful. It wouldn’t have been made more joyous a setting had it been a birthday celebration thrown there instead. Behind the solitary tree in the distance that stuck out like a spindly hand from the ground was Nanako and Mimiko, watching the procession hidden.
He wonders why they were—behind him, a hooded figure.
Nothing but a shadow grown from his own. He could see no face, he could feel no emotion, he could feel no warmth. So this must be the ghost of his future.
Even in the distance, he could smell the metal tang of mortals without cursed energy milling about with their lives. Humans.
“Spirit…” Geto rasps out, somewhat shocked that his voice was working in the first place. “Who is the man lying in this grave?”
There’s a sudden crash! of thunder as if the sky was collapsing in on itself. There’s a sudden gale of wind as if the world itself was howling in laughter at his question- and Geto’s thrown against the sheer force of it, just as the hooded figure’s skeletal hand stretches out and points directly at the emotionless gravestone. Blank.
Words write themselves into the stony slab, in a script that only Geto seemed to be able to see - for no one in the funeral procession moved an inch.
It writes—
Geto Suguru.
“No…” Geto’s voice leaves him. He whirls around to face the masked figure, “It’s me- it’s me—and yet, why show me the memories of my past and present if I am to die? Why give me false hope that I may change?”
And with another clap of thunder, the rest of the writing reveals itself.
Born: 3rd of February, 1990.
“I am not the man I was-” Geto seethes, feeling as though his sanity was starting to slip him. The spectre doesn’t show any sign of hearing his pleas, he fights against the icy winds. “I am not the man I once was and I demand you answer my one question- are these the shadows of things that may be? Or the shadows of things that will be?”
Until the storm trundles its last line.
Died: 24th of December—
Geto feels his blood run cold.
Tonight. He was to die tonight.
He blinks again and none of you all are here, the only thing that greets him is the sight of the ground splitting up where his grave was meant to be—opening up for him. A gaping abyss. A maw of death. Its splintering reaches the tips of his very feet, and the dark-haired man stumbles precariously- struggling not to fall inside-
A bony hand on his shoulder steadies him. Death-cold.
Geto looks back slowly as the ghost of his future tugs back on his hood.
To reveal the spitting image of…Geto Suguru. His mirror reflection, if a little more menacing, with a strange line of stitches decorating the top of his forehead. It was himself.
And it was he who pushes himself into the grave.
He who sees the shreds and snippets of more grief, and new students, and a pink-haired boy with immense power much like his, and a shutdown in Shibuya, the deaths of his daughters, something a far greater danger than he was, you running into Gojo’s arms once he’s unsealed, more grief, grief, grief, grief, death, death, death, death, death.
Darkness.
.
.
.
Light.
He wakes up in a cold sweat to the light of the hallway, Nanako and Mimiko who had arrived to wake him up in time for his attack.
The first thing that Geto Suguru does after waking up from death is hug his daughters long and tight and promise them that everything will be okay. The second thing he does is cancel his plans to wage war on all non-sorcerers.
The third thing he does is run to your room.
.
.
.
You’d walked all the way up to your door with your packed bags when Geto Suguru had flung it open.
Your eyes snap down to the creaking door hinges—you were sure you’d locked it shut earlier in the night. Unsure you could handle more of this very man you loved walking inside.
But here he was.
Towering at your door frame.
Heaving hard enough that this breath tickles your face.
Looking as if he’d just seen a ghost-
“S-Suguru?” You ask with bated breath, and he’s snapping his eyes up to meet yours in an instant. The pure animal thrill that runs down your spine barely even has the time to register before Geto’s predatory body lunges towards you-
Your bags are on the floor.
Your knees are hitting your bed.
Falling backwards with Geto’s feverish body on top of yours.
Pouncing on you like an animal that’d just cornered his prey, gasping straight into the crook of your neck. He noses down the column of your throat and driiiiiiinks you in, mouth watering at the mere scent of you. “Please-” It’s a garbled, choked up groan that sends zaps of electricity straight to where your pussy was growing wet. “Please let me-”
“Yes—” You’re breathing out, heart hammering at your chest. You weave your fingers into Geto’s sweaty black locks like all those years ago, “Yes yes yes-”
“Fuck.” And he flinches as if your very confirmation sets his entire body on fire.
Rapid, ravenous fire. In absolutely no time, Geto’s shoving you further up the bed with his pawing hands and spreading your shaky legs wide open.
You never realized he was just so strong until you had both of Geto Suguru’s roughened hands pinning your thighs to the mattress. Unmoving even a single inch with him. Merciless.
You were in this cute lil’ skirt that you’d thrown on right before leaving, and he’s rip-rip-riiiiiipping it straight off of you with absolutely no care or concern as to whether the noise would echo out until the other association members would hear.
Throwing it somewhere over his shoulder, he’s pinning your shifting hips down and shoving his pretty face nose-deep into your clothed cunt. “M-mmmpf! Suguru-”
“Wanted to do this for so long.” He rasps out, voice just a slightly higher pitch as if he himself couldn’t believe it. Geto isn’t using his tongue on you immediately, he’s sticking the prominent line of his nosebridge between the crevice of your cunt and simply spending his time sniffing at your wet pussy.
Just so filthy.
You gasp as you feel the cold breeze of him taking in your dewy scent and groaning at the perfume of it. “Wh-what are you-”
“Wanted to do this for so long.” Merely repeating, you’re then shut up by the vertical sensation of his nose rubbin’ up and down that sopping slit. Aaaaaall the way from the bottom to the top where your throbbing clit was. Letting the sheeny wetness of your juices seep right through your panties and drench him already, “For so long for so long f-for—”
And then a speck of your slick falls into his mouth, and the very first time Geto’s tasting your pussy he’s stuttering. Voice breaking.
The Geto Suguru who could hold speeches before the tens of thousands in his association without a hitch - he was tasting your pussy through your drenched underwear and going absolutely speechless. Thoughtless.
Simply moving on pure animal instinct as he bites down on the thin fabric with a snarl- tearing right through your panties to get to your naked pussy. Exposing it all for him to see and admire and spit down on.
Exposing it all for him to lean down and press a hot, open-mouthed kiss on top—mwah!
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
And the fourth is what it takes for Geto to reach his limit and shove the tip of his pinkish wet tongue between your swollen pussylips. Like two more puckered lips kissin’ him back, Geto’s moaning primally at the back of his throat the moment he feels your tight hole start to squeeze him—so tight that he might not even fit-
“Wanted to f-fit inside so badly.” He gasps out thickly, drool glimmering down either side of his lips. You almost have half the mind to ask whether Geto Suguru was pussydrunk already, “Always dreamt about fitting inside your pussy like this-”
“F-fuuuuck, Suguru.” You’re whining, back throwing in the air into the perfect curvature.
And Geto only holds down one side of your hips and keeps you pinned down to his face, using your bouncy flinches to fuck your pussy back down on his face. “Always wondered how tight you’d squeeze me. Always wondered what it’d f-feel like to have you ngh- wet on my face like this-”
“You seriously have the filthiest mouth—” You gasp, blinking down at him through your tears. “What do you even mean ‘always’-”
“Always.” He emphasizes, leveraging your hips down to drag against his attractive features. It leaves a snail-trail of glittery slick that drips down the point of his nose- and Geto feels your velvety walls clench down on his tongue in resistance one last time before he’s fishing his tongue back out.
Making you shiver with the sudden emptiness, you’re just starting to miss his hot girth inside of you before his fingertips come back down—smack! Soothing over the sting that makes you yelp, he hisses out as if the strike had hurt a part of him as well. “Always being…” You wait for his answer with your heart thundering at your throat (and your pussy). “-since I ever even knew what eatin’ out a pussy was.”
“Oh—” You’re blubbering out stupidly when Geto ruthlessly pulls your pussylips aside with his two fingers.
Stretchin’ your hole out to take his fat tongue with absolutely no practice- merely letting his slimy crown slip inside before bashing and bashing every inch of your walls he could reach. “Always wanted it to be- hah, you- your pussy.” Geto’s blabbering out between every rapidfire thrust of his tongue, grunting between every breath as if moving away to even breathe was painful. “Ridin’ my face just like this, mmmmm.”
The most lecherous slurps! and sounds kept on pouring out of you - ones that you didn’t even know were possible for you to make.
It rings out in the cozy bedroom like a backtrack that he wanted to record as his favorite song - his girl’s pussy. “Yeahhh, always wanted to get that pussy o’ yours to speak up t’me- heh.” Pistoning your tight channel with his rugged tongue, “Always wanted to let my tongue speak fer itself. Always wanted to memorize all your pussy’s sweetest spots just right.”
Just then you’re hiccuping as he swabs a spot besides a particular bundle of nerves, making sobs clog up in your throat. “O-oh, Suguru!”
“Yeah- always wanted to have you moan my name like that, ngh.” Grumbling out, the tips of his long canines end up snagging on your tender folds and making you sob. “Always wanted—fuck.”
A pin-pricking sensation that made you gush out in even more arousal against his face, drenching him all the way down to the bedsheets. “Suguru, I think you’re getting exactly what you wanted-”
“Not quite.” He growls out, and your mind gets thrown into a frenzy by the sheer amount of vibrations travelling up from your treacly cunt. Geto stares you deeply in the eyes with his dark, dilated pupils as he finishes off—“If I could have it exactly how I wanted it, then every man before me would be here and watching just how much I ruin you, gorgeous.”
The very tip of his flexible tongue just grazes your g-spot and makes you cry out, “You’re almost there- a-almost there, just a bit to the left-”
“I know.” Geto grins - and you can feel it against your sopping wet lips. “You think I didn’t read up on this years before?”
And in absolutely no time, Geto has his tongue plunging back out of your snug channel- though, not without a few more pushes n’ pulls that leave you reeling. Almost as if he couldn’t bear to part with his greedy maw with your pussy just yet.
Before completely spittin’ on your cunt and shoving two of his slender fingers inside your hole.
It’s a direct hit. Gliding all down your walls before you’re finally ending up with the cult leader’s knobbly fingertips pushin’ down on your g-spot as if it was nothing but a cute button for him to toy with. “I’ve always wanted to eat this fuck- pussy of yours out, and you think I didn’t do a little bit of reading up?” He’s gurgling out, lips plastering onto your clit. “Of course I did- of course I did.”
“You did you did—!” You’re whining out, your jaw dropping straight down to hit your chest with the way he had you fucked stupid with his fingers.
And he seriously did.
His honed digits were drag-drag-draaaagging viciously back and forth, letting the curves of his joints massage your velvety walls whilst he hit your nerves constantly like a target. “Always wanted to be the best this cunt’s ever- ngh, kissed. Always wanted t-to mark my spot out so you can feel me messin’ up your pretty insides even when m’not eating you out. Always wanted to eat you out until I’ve lapped every other man away from inside you-”
“Y-you don’t have to worry about them, Suguru.” You gasp out, face twitching with pleasure when that only makes him plunge and pull his lengthy fingers even harder in response.
And Geto knows you’re simply talking about anyone else simply in response to his own words - but that doesn’t stop the irrational stab of jealousy. He attempts to fuck you dumb, but you’re stubbornly digging the feels of your feet into the sheets and bucking. “You don’t have to worry about a single one because-”
“Because—?”
“They’ve never made me cum.”
Oh.
Oh.
And you’ve never quite felt anything like the way that the utterly ruined look in Geto’s eyes made you feel. A zap of something carnal shuddering down your spine.
Before Geto’s tuggin’ his hand back to pry aside your soaked pussylips- before he’s pursuing his now-swollen lips and spitting- before he’s filling up every single orifice inside of you by thrusting back in not just two, not even three, but four of his incredible fingers.
You’re shrilling out at the stretch that makes you see stars behind your lids, pupils swirling within the whites of your eyes.
And Geto’s dark brows knit together, a thin line of sweat trailing between them as he gluttonously stares down at the way your hole was just stretched so wiiiiiide-wide-wide for him. “Fit.” He spits through a growl, “Fucking fit-”
“S’going in—” You’re mewling out, your head throwing back into pillows that were now drenched with your sweat. “Oh- oh my god, it’s going in-”
“Want it to.” Geto echoes out broken fragments of his usual mantra, “Need it to- I’ve been talking s’much about what I want, but this is what I need.” He just sounded so desperate—a man begging with his shattered throat.
He’s lavishing his tongue down along the slit of your pussy and rollin’ sweetly over your clit- making the sharp bolts of pleasure shock you into taking him inch by solid inch. Only faintly aware in his mind that you were struggling to take his sheer size, “Always wanted you to take f-four of my fingers. My lucky number. Always wanted you to fit all of my- ngh- dick—”
“Wha’s that gotta do with fitting four fingers, Suguru?” Stupidly questioning, your head lolling from side to side as he ruts from within.
And for that your naughty pussy gets a gooood spank.
“How else would you fit my cock inside if you can’t even fit my fist?”
And was he fitting his—no, you’re finding out that that was all just a tactic to disarm you into looking down. Into locking sights with your glistening wet pussy in the exact moment that Geto Suguru shovels all four of his fingers inside with just the loudest, most lecherous sound.
He’s on your cunt immediately- lapping up every stray bead of slick that sprays out of you, sliding his puffy lips down your slit and at your gooey orifice where you were taking his mean fingers, gluing ‘round your clit and sucking.
Geto’s handsome cheeks hollow around that sensitive nub and you sob, pushing his sweaty bangs out of his face. “Sh-shit- Suguru, I don’t think m’gonna last too long…”
To that he doesn’t even answer.
Only increasing his sloppy ministrations until you can barely even keep a grip on his hair-
His free hand reaches out to hold you down onto his scalp- almost as if he was telling you to go wild using him. “You want me to…” He merely nods at your wobbly question, nose crinkling in carnal amusement at the surprised look on your face. Grabbing two handfuls of Geto’s long, beautiful hair you’re using it as leverage to properly fuck your honeyed cunt back, back, back into him. “Please- p-please let me cum-”
As if he’d do anything but.
Anything but eat your pussy out like a madman. Drilling every inch of his fingers inside you and swervin’ those calloused buds around and around. Smoothing out each tiny crevice. Bruising them. Letting them memorize the pattern of his unique fingerprint—
With a few more vulgar strokes, you’re finally toppling over the edge of your high. “Cumming-” You sing out, your bed creaking in synchronization with the way you were rutting back needily onto his face. “Cumming cumming cumming-” Chasing your high.
“Mmmm—” Geto’s purposefully moaning around your clit and making your body shake with your orgasm. “Always wanted-”
“Yes yes yes-” Hiccuping through your tears, your heartbeat thumps away in your ears. It felt like every droplet of blood in your body had amplified and suddenly you were about to burst with pressure.
“Always wanted to-”
Tears roll uncontrollably down your cheeks at the way he somehow managed to strike your g-spot precisely during the peaks of your orgasm- making the waves of bliss last longer and overtake you. “Yes- keep going keep going-”
“Always wanted to make you cum a second time in my mouth.”
You gasp, “What?”
But the only answer you’re getting is Geto’s strong arms manhandling you deeper against his face and lashing his slick-glazed fingers into your deepest depths. Zig-zagging inside. Scissoring two by two apart so your cunt’s stretched out like never before.
These prolonged digits were just so stretched in your dewy juices by now that it made it easy for Geto to move them back and forth at a blurring pace. “Always wanted it-” He gasps, that sinful mantra again that you knew didn’t bode well for your sanity. “Always wanted to have you o-overstimulated enough that you- mmm, cry.”
“But I already am-”
“Overstimulated enough that you can’t even remember your own name—”
“Oh, fuck…” You whimper.
Though you were slowly getting there with each ravenous rut of Geto’s digits. As he’s pinning you down and fishing your most delicate spots with his fingers, you feel those spit-slicked lips of his wrap around your clit. “And you only hafta- mmm-” He groans out against that sensitive nub, the mushy tip of his tongue drawing out what seemed like an obvious ‘G.S.’ on your clit. “-remember my name- because s’what you’ll be taking, anyway.”
And you don’t even realize that you’re crashing right into your second high of the night until Geto’s eyes seem to light up. A soft chuckle leaving him-
“Always knew you could do it.” He fingers you ruthlessly through that one, too. Puckered fingerpads ending up at your g-spot between each wave of bliss, almost glued there. “Always knew- fuck. And what’s your name, gorgeous?”
“M-my name?” You’re babbling out eyes dazed and merely taking the oncoming pleasure.
“Mhmm—your name, gorgeous.” He spanks your clit with his free hand, “Now.”
“I can’t…” Pouting out in a way that he just found too cute, “I can’t seem to remember-” Your mind was truly hazed, sparking uselessly and registering nothing but the feeling of his fingers and mouth. Just too good.
“Oh, you’re dumbified alright-” He titters, finally letting go of your treacly cunt once he feels your high bate. Geto removes his mouth with a soppy mwahhhh- “My poor girl can’t even remember her own name- s’alright, I’ll teach you.”
You squirm, “Y-you will?”
“Yeah.” Geto pins your restless hips down and raises himself - face all flushed and lacquered with a clingy few layers of your sap. It dribbles down the edge of his chin as he kisses you firmly on the mouth, “Say it w’me now-”
“Mhm—”
“Mrs. Geto Suguru.” At least you would be in the future he’s creating.
Oh, he was just mean. And you’re whining helplessly into the kiss when he bites down on your lower lip with his sharp canines, blubbering some jumbled repetition of—“M-mrs. Geto- ngh, Suguru.”
“My good girl.”
Geto pulls away and finally starts shedding the rest of his clothing- to which you motion to try and do the same for yourself, but he’s merely stopping your hands then and there. Then and there teeeearing down that t-shirt of yours that was really his, and unhooking your bra with a single motion behind your back-
“S-seriously, what’s gotten into you tonight, Suguru?” You’re gasping out as the cold night air hits your exposed body and makes your nipples harden.
He’s placing two singular kisses on both your tits before answering, “Let’s just say, mmm, I saw the future.”
“Saw the future?” You gape - could someone really get this pussydrunk? Maybe he’d actually gone mad…“Suguru, are you oka-”
“No.” Taking care of the robes that he’d worn to bed, you’re realizing that Geto wasn’t wearing underwear once he discards of that singular soft layer. And it wasn’t exactly a secret that Geto Suguru was positively chiselled - you knew that sort of vigorous strength and agility training that he did. Had to do.
So it was not much of a surprise to you once you see his firmly toned pecs, flinching slightly at the cold. His washboard abs. His meaty thighs. His Herculean body that was covered in a thin film of sweat that made him look almost otherworldly.
You’re not even done gawking at the muscular rest of him before a sudden glimmer of creamy precum makes your gaze drop down to…his cock.
Standing upright.
Rock-hard and veiny.
The most furious red shade on his tip.
The excess of his precum coating him n’ all his veins in a glistening sheen.
The slightest tufts of messy black at his base, from which Geto’s greedy balls throbbed. He was so hard that it looked like it physically hurt. That globular tip of his smacked the front of his abs and left a splotchy wet smear that you almost wanted to lick away, and you’re mindlessly reaching forwards to do so when-
“And did you know what I saw in the future, gorgeous?” Geto’s gruff voice startles you out of your little reverie, making you shake your head ‘no’. He then places two hands on your hips to drag you down the bed and meet his toned hips, “Well- heh, I can’t really tell you that yet, my girl. But I’ll tell you what I didn’t see…”
Your mind was absolute mush and you’re trilling. “Wh-what was that, Suguru?”
“You. Pregnant.”
He puckers his red, thickened cockhead against your hole. Slightly rutting against it like an animal.
“So how about we fix that?”
And then he’s pumping in just the first inch of his thiiiick reddened cock, making your plush hole stretch out into the same wide ‘o’ that he was fucking your cunt into. His bulging tip. The meanest kiss.
Geto feels the hotness of your pussy clench ‘round him and grooooans, letting his head fall in front of him to cover the two of you with his inky black hair like a curtain. “O-oh.” His entire heaving body wracks with shivers, as if merely the first feeling of your cunt broke him. Goosebumps prickle across every inch of his skin. Cock pulsating inside you a mile a minute. “Fuck, your pussy’s so good. Your pussy’s so good I almost forgot how badly I wanted to do this-”
“Do what—oh.” The words are barely out of your mouth before Geto’s hands are on you.
Like never before, he’s gripping your thighs so hard that it’s almost painful. Feeling his neat crescent nail marks embed against your skin, “Put you…” Geto trails off in his gruff tone, breath hitching any time he was half-rutting inside. Just probin’ with his swollen erection, “In a liiiiittle something called a…”
“In a…” But you already know what he’s trying to say.
Because Geto’s strong arms are on you in an instant. Flexing and bulging any time he’s moving you ‘round as if you were nothing but a ragdoll.
He rests both your tired thighs on top of his broad shoulders, tapping one of them on the sides. “Lock those ankles f’me…mmm, good.” Bending you all the way dooooown in half until your joints pop with pressure and the caps of your knees are hitting your tits. “Bend all the way like thaaaat- in half now, in half.”
“I am I am-” You hiccup. And though he hadn’t even bottomed out, this made Geto’s blushin’ tip stab deep enough that you nearly feel him in your throat.
Just fucking and fucking and fucking you.
Quickly, sloppy ruts just to fit himself inside.
With a low chuckle, he’s lacing both hands atop your sweaty crown. “Mhm- and fuck- y’know what this is called? Always wanted to put you in one of these, gorgeous- y’know it? It’s called a—”
“M-mating press.” You mewl out.
And Geto’s roughly stroking out a thrust that makes you see stars, “And who taught you that, hm?” He’s hissing out between clenched canines, something in his tone that sends shivers down your spine. “Some other man put you in one of- hah, these?”
Your eyes nearly bulge out of your damn skull, “N-no, never! That’s not how I-”
“Fuckin’ good.” He rumbles out, leaning down to catch your lips in a sultry, sultry kiss. But Geto was just feeling so mean at this very moment that he’s snagging your lower lip with his teeth and dragging. “And it better stay that way because I’m the one tha’s been wanting to breed this pretty pussy for so long-”
“I know, Suguru, I know.” You sob out—tears freefalling down your cheeks faster than you could even register them due to the sheer size of him - and the fact that your sultry pussylips couldn’t stop simply suckin’ him in. “Fuck you’re going in so deep- c-can almost feel you at my-”
“Cute lil’ womb, right?”
And you’re hearing Geto Suguru bottom out inside you before you’re actually registering it using your muddled brain. It’s with the sloppiest squeeeelch! that all his veiny nine inches are sucked up to the bottom of your pussy.
All of him throbbing inside you.
The very lining of your cervix is being banged by his rounded red tip, drivelling out slick deep at your core. “H-heh…” Geto’s letting out a drunken giggle, somehow angling his hips so that his pointed cockhead moves in circular motions. Making you feel him eeeeeverywhere in your awaiting womb, “I hope you know that I’m a jealous man, my girl.” He’d be damned if he let any other man fuck you full of his cum first. “And I’ve claimed this pretty womb first.”
Your jaw drops, “Like you’ve always wanted to?”
“Like I’ve always wanted to.” He grins, something so sleazy that you never thought you’d see on his pretty, pretty face.
And without hesitation, Geto’s dragging and dragging all the way back out to…pull out?
You’re opening your eyes in confusion, your disappointed noise barely out of your lips before Geto’s fully thrusting back in. Red tip to thick base.
Again. And again. And again and again-
He’s fucking into you like a madman, simply pointed swipes of his cock trying to find your sweetest spots. It’s with no issue that he’s stretchin’ out every line and crevice along those soft walls of yours, letting the sheer thickness of his shaft rub up against your nerves.
The patterns of his veins sending white-hot stars sparking up your spine, tears beading at the corners of your eyelids. “Yes- fuck, it feels so good.”
“Mmm, you like that?” Geto’s gasping out, the edges of his kiss-swollen lips twitching up into a smirk. He’s almost immediately getting his answer, however, by the way your sopping wet pussy only seems to glisten out in even more wads of slick.
Slipping in miry ribbons down the slit of your cunt and getting smeared on his thick base. He drawls out, “Yeahhh, f-feels good, doesn’t it? Ngh- I’ve always wanted to hit this pussy’s cervix. I’ve always wanted to let this womb of yours know that I’m gonna be the one to breed her all full—me.”
Because god fucking dammit he might’ve seen the worst possible outcome of his entire life in his future, one that he himself had barely even entertained prior. But fuck- if he isn’t going to do everything in his power to make sure that he makes of his future what he wants it to be.
If he isn’t going to make sure that he has you in it.
And if a little bundle of chaos with his hair and your smile was in the picture as well, then, that only made his daydreams all the more sweeter.
Fuck, he never realized how badly he wanted it.
A baby—to fuck you so full of his baby. He’s pinpointing every single spot inside you with his massive tip, more and more of the black-haired man’s precum escaping from your hole by the second.
Almost unthinkingly, Geto lifts a hand off of your scalp and grunts- “Don’t think of running now, gorgeous.” Before bringing his slightly roughened palm down the front of your core, resting right over where his thick tip bulged your pussy’s walls. Your cervix. Your womb. “Fuck- I’ve always wanted- here-”
“What was that, Suguru?” Slightly taken aback at how the ever-eloquent Geto Suguru was having a hard time keeping his sentences coherent.
He presses down firmer above your stomach, feeling himself as he sinks iiiiiiiin and out of your cunt. Almost slowing down until you could feel every sensual texture of his cock, “Right here.” The pressure was almost incredible with the addition of his hand, “Right here- s’the spot. I’ve always wanted to fill you up until every woman, man, person, animal in-between could take one look at you and know what I’ve done to you.”
“O-ohhhh my god—” Whatever little response was on the tip of your tongue is instantly being swallowed up by your uncontrollable moans.
Escaping out of you whenever Geto funnels his achin’ cock harder, deeper, more sinfully in. Escaping out of you when Geto simply reached over and pinched your poor neglected clit.
He doesn’t feel a single inkling of regret as he tug on that cute lil’ knob between your pussylips whilst he fucks you, “I’ve always wanted to see what you’d look like with my- ngh, cum spilling out of you because your poor pussy can’t take it. And have others try to imagine what it looks like.”
“There’s already so much-” You’re wailing out at the feeling of such heaps of syrup splosh out between your legs as if a waterpark.
And Geto’s taking just one look between them and snickering to himself, “Even more, gorgeous.” The way he said it made you realize that it wasn’t just a promise - to him it was a challenge. And he was ploughing right on, “So much more- so much more. Enough to end up with you all round and glowing and they’ll know that I did it. I filled you up like that. I did it I did it I did it-”
“Suguru, p-pleeeease—”
“They need to know that you’re mine.” He rasps out, his pinkish divot ending up shot straight against your g-spot. Hitting that particular area of sensitivity perfectly, “You were mine then. You’re mine now. And you’ll be mine in the future.” Your cunt suffering from the brutal slashes of his mushroomy tip after each word, the breaths between spaces being filled up with his accurate thrusts. “And if I fuck you pregnant that’s all they’re gonna be thinking about, isnt it?”
Fuck, it almost felt like he was going insane.
With every word out of his mouth, with every gluey wad of pre he was emptying out into your womb. Not only did that glimpse into the future make him want to avoid it—now he simply couldn’t have a future for himself if it didn’t include you, his daughters, and this all-new addition to the Geto lineage. He wonders who his third daughter would take after more.
“H-hope s’gonna be your pretty eyes and your smile- always wanted a daughter with that beautiful smile.” Geto muses out, holding you even tighter in this mating press. It felt like all the blood was rushing to your head, and you could feel your stomach starting to spark with an all-new high.
“Oh please-” You start to sputter out, “Suguru, m’gonna c-cum again soon-”
“So do it then.” He certainly wasn’t gonna stop you - especially not after that old wives’ tale he heard that the wife had to cum, too, in order for a baby to be conceived.
And Geto wasn’t taking any chances here.
He was twisting his fingers even more fervently on your clit, and bashin’ your g-spot so many times that you’re sure it’s starting to bruise. “I know it- I just know it.” He babbles on, more pussydrunken than ever. “I just know it, gorgeous, if m’ever seeing my future again then it’s gonna be with you—”
“Suguru…” You mewl tearily, feeling a lump at your throat where his rounded tip seemed to be plummeting straight through to your lungs.
“You and my three daughters. On Christmas eve. Around the Christmas tree. Opening up presents we wrapped the night before-” Just as he imagines it, his strawberry-red tip spurts out a few warm ribbons of slick that splosh! around your channel. Keeping his hand pressed to your womb and humming, “With another one on the way, hm?”
You gawk, “Y-you’re insatiable.”
“That I am.”
And Geto doesn’t even realize the way his body instinctively pours out reverse cursed energy into yours to keep you from fucking breaking underneath his strength.
From fucking passing out as he’s rutting ferally harder and harder.
The bed groans heavily at the movements of his hulking body.
Leaning in so close now that you could feel the skin of your face start to perspire because of his breaths. Geto’s forehead pressed against yours, Geto’s cocktip pressed against the end of your cervix “Hope she’s gonna love her pretty momma just as- haaaah, I do.”
And then you’re crash-landing into your high without warning, without any signal from your own body that you were going to do so. It zips through your veins at lightning speed, completely taking over your brain until it felt all fuzzy and fried.
Toes curling.
Back arching.
He fucks you through this nth high of the night just as sinfully as he did with all the others - just as perfectly. Somehow swabbin’ your gooey crevices right on time with the peaks of your euphoria, he manages to pump his plump tip towards your g-spot and your womb at a dizzying pace.
At a pace that leaves you cockdrunk.
Your body twitches with the twinges of pleasure, sobbing. “Please-” You’re wrapping your arms around Geto’s neck, pushing his inky locks slightly to the side. “I love you too, Suguru.”
And that’s all it takes for Geto to also grit his teeth and let his throat rip with a guttural groan as he finally cums. Exploding out in white-hot pleasure and in the gooey white wads that occupy the space within your tight cunt. There was simply so much of it that you didn’t know what to do with yourself, his loooooooong miry ribbons splashin’ against the roof of your cunt and dribblin’ down every orifice possibly inside you. “Fuck, don’t even say that.” His voice was octaves higher by this point, completely maddened. “Don’t even—oh, don’t even know what you do to me.”
“I’ve always wanted to tell you.” You’re taking his own chant from him.
And that only makes his heavy balls throb even harder, as if he was emptying out all his ivory syrup and still wished there was more.
Despite the constant overflow from your hole, a sheeny circle escaping down your thighs and gluing the skin together- at least, it would have had it not been for Geto’s fingertips scooping up that slick glaze and pushing it back inside your cunt.
The doughy tips of his fingers curl against your elastic hole and make you shiver- still so sensitive from your ongoing high. Not that Geto even hesitates before putting his all into fucking you through his own—pounding every wad of his seed inside you. His cock glazes with even more slick, making slipping inside you even easier. “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.” And he titters to himself as if there was a joke there that you didn’t entirely understand, “And I would ask for n-no sweeter death, my girl…” Was that a tear running down his cheek?
You’re pressing your forehead to his, eyes fluttering shut. You still shook with the tremors of your orgasm, but still managed to keep your tone even. “I’d never ask for that, Suguru.”
“I know.”
Outside, it was a dark night greeting the 25th of December.
.
.
.
24th of December, Christmas Eve (one year later).
“Hurry hurry, all according to plan—!” Your voice calls out across the cozy Tokyo apartment, slightly muffled by the pile of gifts you carried that was as tall as you.
Geto’s taking one look at your teetering self and chuckling, “Here- let me take that from you, gorgeous.” As handsome as ever. A Santa hat on his head.
And though you admit that it was an incredible relief to your arms to have your husband take the burden of the gifts, you can’t help but sweep a glance over the apartment. Pondering out loud about all the other tasks that were supposed to be done before 7PM- “But, Suguru, let me! You worry about getting all the stockings ready-”
“Already stuffed to the brim, my girl.” He winks at you, and you suddenly feel too hot underneath your appallingly ugly Christmas sweater (it had been a gift from Yaga, how could you not have worn it tonight?)
You raise a suspicious brow, “Everyone’s? Ours, Nanako’s, Mimiko’s, and the baby’s?”
What a spoiled little girl! Only three months old and already having a Christmas stocking larger than her own self, Geto wants to say - but doesn’t. He knows he’s just as guilty as you in spoiling your three daughters, “Ours, Nanako’s Mimiko’s, and the baby’s, and Satoru’s- you know how he gets when he sees candy that’s not for him.”
“You’re right.” You agree, “And what about setting the table-”
“Done.”
“Getting the twins to clean their rooms-”
“Done.”
“Finishing decorating the Christmas tree-”
“Done.”
“Oh! How about finally setting that letter of confirmation for your post as new teacher at Tokyo Jujustu-”
“Done. Done. Aaaaand done.” Geto smiles, setting the gifts down underneath the table in a way that seemed so effortless. It must be the training, how unfair! When he’s standing back up again it’s with an arm thrown around your shoulder, the both of you admiring the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree you’d set up as a family.
Its lights sparkled like miniature suns, like candles from a night unforgettable. Customized baubles of marine animals and ocean-blue. The portraits of friends and family lost. “We’ve done everything, gorgeous. Now we only wait for them to get here.”
“It’s beautiful, Suguru.” You respond, and he only pulls you closer.
Resting his cheek against the top of your head, “I know.”
Nanako and Mimiko were still getting ready for the Christmas party and you knew you had to fetch them soon before the guests got here, you knew you also had to wake the baby up from her nap to get her into the Christmas festivities with everyone else, you also knew you had to check on some of the fruit tarts right now, you knew you had to congratulate Geto properly on finally earning his position as a third-year teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu High after many examinations and meetings with the elders. After many days spent proving his change.
It had been tough, you admit. In many ways.
But you were here.
But, for now, you two simply bask in each other.
You’re not sure how long it is before the doorbell rings and you’re forced apart.
“We should…get the door.” You say.
“Mhm, we should.” And he kisses you.
“Santa’s kissing mommy, totally gross!” Nanako calls out as she passes the two of you, finally finished getting ready and heading to the kitchen to snag some desserts before it was actually time.
Mimiko follows with your cooing third daughter in hand, “Don’t look unless you want your spirit of Christmas to be scarred for life.” She tells the near-infant seriously.
“Come now, you two.” Geto sighs, shaking his head like the father he was.
You’re giggling softly up at him until the bell rings once again- before immediately starting to get rung at an annoying staccato. Gojo. Then immediately stopped as if someone had just smacked his hand away from the bell. Shoko.
And you already knew by the two hefty sighs that Yaga and Nanami were there, too.
Stifling your giggle, you and Geto walk up to open the decorated front door. Both of you opening it in unison—
“Merry Christmas!”
A/N. Awww I just rewatched this movie the other day and it was too sweeeeet. Hope all of you are having a joyous season regardless of whether you celebrate or not <33
Summary: Y/n navigates the complexities of her new life in King's Landing, contending with the political intrigue and personal dynamics of the Lannister family
Warnings: Mature Themes, Possessiveness
_________________________________________________
The day dawned clear and bright over King’s Landing, the air heavy with the weight of expectation. Word of our wedding had spread quickly, a union that would shake the foundations of Westerosi politics. Whispers followed me wherever I walked, eyes full of curiosity, envy, and, in some cases, fear. Tywin Lannister, the most powerful man in the realm, was marrying again, and not just anyone—me, a Tyrell, a daughter of one of the wealthiest and most influential families in the Seven Kingdoms.
The sept was adorned with Lannister crimson and gold, blended tastefully with the green and gold of House Tyrell. It was a show of strength, of unity between two great houses, but I knew the truth beneath the façade. This was not just a marriage of convenience or strategy—it was something far more complicated, more intimate. It was the culmination of everything that had passed between Tywin and me, a union that neither of us had planned for but one that now seemed inevitable.
As I stood in my chambers, my ladies helping me into my gown, I felt the weight of the day pressing down on me. The dress was a masterpiece, a deep emerald green trimmed with golden lions at the cuffs and neckline, an unmistakable symbol of my new allegiance to House Lannister. My hair had been braided and adorned with delicate golden chains, Tywin’s way of showing the world that I belonged to him now.
My heart raced as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, wondering how the world would see me after today. A Tyrell by birth but a Lannister by marriage. A new player in the game of thrones.
“Y/n ,” Margaery said softly, placing a hand on my shoulder. She had been unusually quiet, her own ambitions simmering beneath the surface. She was to be Queen, and I her grandmother by marriage—our fates intertwined in ways neither of us had ever anticipated. “You look beautiful.”
I nodded, offering her a small smile, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I wondered how the day would unfold—how Tywin would act, what would be expected of me. The bedding ceremony loomed in the back of my mind, a tradition I found distasteful, but one I knew would be demanded by the court. Still, I had learned enough about Tywin to know that he would not let such a vulgar display take place, not with me. He was possessive, protective in his own way, and I suspected that even the suggestion of other men touching me would not be tolerated.
The sept was filled with the most powerful lords and ladies of Westeros. The great houses had sent their envoys: Olenna Tyrell sat with her usual smirk, clearly amused by the whole affair. I could feel her eyes on me as I walked down the aisle, arm in arm with my father. I had seen her speaking with Tywin earlier, no doubt testing him as she always did, teasing him about the growing bond between our houses.
“Closer than ever now,” I could imagine her saying with that knowing smile. Tywin, of course, would not have been amused, though he respected Olenna’s wit. She was one of the few people who could match him in cunning.
As I approached the altar, I saw Tywin waiting for me, his expression as impassive as ever. He looked regal, powerful, every inch the Lord of Casterly Rock. Yet, when our eyes met, there was something else there—something only I could see. A flicker of warmth, of pride. Perhaps even affection, though he would never admit it.
The ceremony itself was a blur, the words of the septon washing over me as I stood beside Tywin, our hands joined in a grip that was both firm and intimate. As we said our vows, pledging ourselves to each other, I could feel the weight of the moment, the realization that I was now bound to this man in every way. He was my husband, my partner in every sense of the word.
The feast that followed was lavish, as expected. Long tables stretched across the hall, filled with the finest foods and wines. The high lords and ladies raised their cups to us, toasting our union, though I knew many of them were more interested in what this marriage meant for the balance of power in Westeros. Tywin sat beside me, his hand resting possessively on my knee under the table, a subtle reminder of his claim over me.
Margaery, sitting nearby, smiled serenely, though I could see the gears turning in her mind. She was focused on her own future, her own ambitions to become Queen. She glanced at me occasionally, as if to assess my own plans now that I was married to the most powerful man in the realm. I met her gaze, offering nothing but a quiet, knowing smile in return. We were both playing the game now, but we were on the same side—at least for now.
As the feast drew on, I could feel the tension building. The time for the bedding ceremony was approaching, and the lords were beginning to grow restless. I saw the glint in their eyes, the anticipation of the vulgar tradition where they would carry me to the bed, stripping me of my clothes and dignity.
But before anyone could make a move, Tywin stood, his voice cutting through the noise of the hall with the sharpness of a blade. “There will be no bedding ceremony tonight,” he announced, his tone brooking no argument. “Any man who so much as touches my wife will lose his hands.”
A silence fell over the hall, the weight of his words sinking in. Tywin’s gaze swept across the room, daring anyone to challenge him. No one did. The lords averted their eyes, suddenly interested in their food and wine.
His display of authority sent a thrill through me, my pulse quickening. It wasn’t just his power that excited me, but the way he wielded it so effortlessly, the way he made it clear that I belonged to him and him alone. It was possessive, yes, but in a way that made me feel more desired than I had ever been.
As Tywin took my hand and led me from the hall, I could feel the eyes of the court on us, their whispers following in our wake. But I didn’t care. All that mattered now was the man beside me.
Once inside our chambers, the door closed behind us, the tension from the hall melted away, leaving only the two of us in the quiet of the room. Tywin turned to me, his eyes dark with intent, his hands already moving to undo the laces of my gown.
“You are mine,” he said, his voice low and rough as he pulled me close, his hands firm on my hips. “And no one else will ever touch you.”
The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver through me, and I nodded, my breath catching in my throat as his hands roamed over my body. “Yes,” I whispered, meeting his gaze. “I am yours.”
He didn’t waste any time, his hands deftly removing the rest of my clothes until I stood bare before him. He took a moment to admire me, his eyes roaming over every inch of exposed skin before pulling me to him, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss that was both fierce and tender.
As he laid me down on the bed, his body pressing against mine, I felt a surge of desire unlike anything I had ever known. His touch was firm, commanding, and I responded eagerly, my hands gripping his shoulders as he moved over me.
“I will give you children,” he growled into my ear, his breath hot against my skin as he positioned himself between my legs. “Strong sons. Daughters to carry on our legacy.”
His words sent a thrill through me, and I arched beneath him, my body trembling with anticipation. “Yes,” I gasped, my nails digging into his back. “Give me your children.”
With that, he entered me with a forceful thrust, his hands gripping my hips as he began to move with a steady, unrelenting rhythm. Each thrust was filled with purpose, with the promise of the future we would build together.
I clung to him, lost in the intensity of our connection, my body responding to every movement, every word. I had never felt so desired, so utterly claimed, and the thought of bearing his children, of being the mother to his heirs, only heightened my pleasure.
Tywin’s thrusts grew more forceful, more desperate, and I could feel the tension building in him as he neared his release. “You will bear my sons,” he growled again, his voice thick with lust.
“Yes,” I moaned, my body trembling beneath him. “I will give you everything.”
With a final, powerful thrust, he spilled into me, his body tense as he held me close, his breath ragged against my neck. For a moment, we lay there, our bodies intertwined, the weight of our future hanging over us.
But as we lay in the afterglow, I couldn’t help but wonder—what kind of father would he be? If he could be so cruel to his own children, what would he be like with mine?
I pushed the thought aside for now, focusing on the man beside me, the man who had just made me his in every way. Whatever the future held, I would face it with him.
And I would make sure that my children—our children—knew love, even if I had to teach Tywin how to give it.
The days following the wedding were an exercise in learning the intricacies of my new life as Lady Lannister. While I had anticipated the whispers and careful gazes from the court, I hadn't fully understood just how much my marriage to Tywin would shake the foundation of King's Landing. It was no longer just a political alliance between Houses; it was a new chapter for the Lannisters, a merging of ambitions and legacies that would echo through the halls for years to come.
Tywin was already at work consolidating his plans, as expected. He wasted no time returning to his role as Hand of the King, and now, with me by his side, he seemed even more intent on securing his family’s dominance. But for all his strength and power, I could sense the slight tension in him when it came to his own children.
Jaime, always the more impetuous of Tywin’s children, had met me with a degree of indifference that bordered on cool curiosity. He observed me, his golden lion gaze flicking over me with the faintest hint of judgment. Yet, for all his disapproval of our marriage, he had not openly voiced it. Perhaps because he, more than anyone, understood his father's pragmatism. He could see what our marriage meant for the Lannisters, but there was something else too—a distance in him, as if he was unsure how to react to having a stepmother younger than himself. He greeted me with a forced smile and the kind of gallant charm expected from the Kingslayer.
“Welcome to the family,” Jaime said at one of our first dinners after the wedding, his tone bordering on teasing, though there was a guardedness behind his words. “It’s rare to see Father so... invested in someone.”
His comment didn’t miss its mark. I could feel Tywin tense beside me, but he made no outward reaction to his son’s veiled barb.
Cersei, on the other hand, was far less subtle in her hostility. Her disdain for me was evident from the first moment I entered the hall as Tywin’s wife. She made no effort to mask her contempt, her lips curling into a sneer whenever we were in the same room. I had anticipated as much; Cersei had lost her position as the only woman in Tywin’s life, and she resented me for it. What I hadn’t expected, however, was the coldness that came with it.
At one point, when we found ourselves alone in the gardens, she approached me, her voice dripping with malice. “Don’t think for one moment that you can replace my mother,” she hissed. “You may be Lady Lannister now, but you are still just another pawn in my father’s game.”
Her words were harsh, but I knew better than to take the bait. Instead, I smiled calmly, refusing to let her provoke me. “I have no intention of replacing anyone, Cersei,” I replied softly. “But we are family now, and it would serve us both better to work together rather than against one another.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing more, storming off in a whirl of crimson and gold. I knew she would be a thorn in my side for as long as we remained in King’s Landing, but I wasn’t concerned. I had dealt with powerful women before—Olenna had taught me well. Cersei was dangerous, but she was also predictable.
Tommen, however, was a different matter entirely. Sweet, innocent Tommen had taken to me far more easily than his older brother. His childlike admiration for his new grandmother soon to be sister in marriage was endearing, and I couldn’t help but feel protective of him. He was the boy king, thrust into a world of power and deceit, and yet he retained a gentleness that neither Joffrey nor Cersei possessed.
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Tommen asked one afternoon as we walked through the gardens, accompanied by Ser Pounce. “That you’re my grandmother, but also my soon to be wife's sister.”
I laughed softly, ruffling his hair as he beamed up at me. “It’s a bit complicated, isn’t it? But I suppose we’ll have to navigate these strange family ties together.”
He nodded, content with the answer, and I felt a surge of affection for him. Tommen was an easy boy to love, and I knew that Margaery was already wrapping him around her little finger. She was the perfect queen for him—clever, kind, and ambitious. I had seen her ambition grow ever stronger since our marriage, her eyes constantly trained on her future as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
Margaery had perfected the art of subtle manipulation. She showered Tommen with affection, and he adored her in return. There was no doubt in my mind that she would succeed where Cersei had failed. Margaery knew how to handle power, how to keep her enemies close while presenting the perfect image of a loving wife.
As for Myrcella, her fate had been one of the first topics Tywin and I discussed after our wedding. There had been talk of bringing her back from Dorne, but Tywin was firm in his decision. The marriage to Trystane Martell was still advantageous, and he saw no reason to disrupt the arrangement. I had questioned him about it, wondering whether he feared for her safety in such a volatile kingdom, but Tywin had been resolute.
“She is safest where she is,” he had told me one evening as we sat in our chambers, his hand resting on mine. “The Martells may hate us, but they will not harm Myrcella. Not while we hold such power over the realm.”
His logic was sound, as always, but I couldn’t help but worry. Myrcella was an innocent girl, much like Tommen, and I didn’t trust the Martells any more than he did. But I knew better than to challenge Tywin’s decisions on matters of strategy. He had spent his entire life mastering the game of thrones, and I had no doubt that he would keep his granddaughter safe, even from afar.
The court, meanwhile, had been thrown into a whirlwind of speculation following our marriage. I was the new Lady Lannister, and though I was born with the Tyrell name, I was now firmly embedded in the lion’s den. Some welcomed me with open arms, eager to curry favor with the new power couple. Others were less enthusiastic, their eyes full of suspicion and jealousy.
Whispers followed me wherever I went, but I had grown used to them. The courtiers may have thought they could undermine me with their gossip, but I had learned well from Olenna. I had my own sources of information, and I knew exactly who could be trusted and who couldn’t.
What surprised me the most, however, was the respect I garnered simply by standing at Tywin’s side. His authority was absolute, and by marrying him, I had inherited a portion of that power. People deferred to me, not just because of my position, but because they feared Tywin’s wrath should they slight his new wife. It was a heady feeling, knowing that I could wield influence over the court simply by being his partner.
But with that power came responsibility, and I knew I had to navigate the court with care. I had to maintain the delicate balance between being a supportive wife to Tywin and asserting my own place in the game. Tywin respected strength, and I intended to prove that I was not just another pawn in his plans.
Summery: A bored Tywin is a dangerous thing, especially at a garden party
Notes: okay but hear me out: if that man ever found out you were actually attracted to him, you would never hear the end of it. And as someone who values his own mind as much as he does, he would be insufferable if he found out that his words were enough to drive you over the edge. (yes I have given this too much thought)
AO3
“How do you think all these lords and ladies would react if they knew I had you screaming my name in pleasure last night?” Your lord husband’s voice was barely more than a rumble in your ear and yet he had you furiously looking around, making sure no one could neither hear him nor notice the deep blush that stained your cheeks.
You knew it had been a mistake the moment the words had left your mouth and now, still a week later, he continued to torment you. It had been in the heat of the moment – or rather the throes of passion – when he had commented how good your body squeezed around him and you had mindlessly moaned and pleaded him to keep talking to you.
His movements had slowed and he bent down so he could talk directly in your ear, “I’m going to fill you with my seed until you can’t walk and keep you in my bed as you swell, carrying my son in your belly.” You had already been close to your climax but hearing his deep voice so close and the images they conjured up, had sent you head first into one of the strongest orgasms you had experienced. You had clawed at his chest, your back arched and your cunt had clamped down on him so hard he had no choice but to follow you, spilling his seed deep inside of you.
“Well, that’s certainly information worthy of keeping in mind,” he had said, slightly out of breath but with a dangerous glint in his eyes.
He had wandered away from you, allowing some lesser noble to talk his ear off about this or that trading deal, and you attempted to draw your focus away from the strong back of your husband and onto the party going on around you. It was a beautiful day and the gardens of King’s Landing was filled with noble men and women from all over the continent – and probably beyond. You had to hand it to the Tyrell’s: they knew how to throw a lavish but tasteful party.
You passed a group of minstrels gently plucking at their instruments as you made your way to a table ladled with all manner of sliced fruit, presented in artistic swirls according to their colour. A young man – you assumed from one of the southern houses, based on the cut of his tunic – greeted you with a smile and offered you one of the small silver plates from the table. You thanked him and started to make your selection, commenting on the favourable weather as you scooped up a few pieces of what you assumed to be some kind of melon.
You looked up and saw the young man about to speak when something over your shoulder made his eyes widen and he hastily made his excuses. You were about to turn around when the unmistakable arm of your husband reached around you, plucking a piece of fruit from your plate.
“Still not as sweet as when I have you sit on my face.” He said it like he was commenting on the weather, his face betraying nothing safe for the slight smirk when he saw the blush return to your cheeks.
“Tywin, please, not here; people will hear,” you whispered hurriedly and once again checked your surroundings.
Beside you Tywin merely scoffed and moved around you, stealing another piece from your plate. “No one listens to anything anybody else have to say at things like these. All of them,” he nodded discreetly at the nobles milling around you, “are mere peacocks, prancing in the garden.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at his grumblings. “Not enjoying the party, my lord?”
“No,” he answered firmly, rounding you completely and looked you dead in the eyes. “There are about a hundred letters on my desk that need answering and about a hundred more that needs to be drawn up.” He moved closer to you and for the first time you saw him actually make sure you were alone before he ducked down to whisper in your ear: “I would rather be at my desk – or better yet, have you on my desk – than spend another minute in the company of these insipid fools.”
You were sure your face was about as red as your husband’s coat of arms and yet you couldn’t help but reach up and discreetly play with one of the many buttons lining his expensive coat. Your eyes swept over the crowd behind him, all of them laughing, some even dancing despite the early hour, and none of them seem to pay any attention to the two of you. Finally your gaze met his and with small smile you said, “better take me home then, husband.”
