There was nothing worse then waking up with a pounding headache after a night out drinking with your friends.
College was fun sure and you were finally living ‘your best years’ but you had one rule: don’t get into a relationship. Of any kind really, the idea of having to deal with your degree, friends, future career was already enough, adding a partner on top of that was just not worth the hassle.
That was until you met him, or rather had a hooked up with him. That night was long and rough and the more you try to remember it the more you cringe as the man standing before you cuddles up to your side, his body bruised and sticky.
◤──•~❉᯽❉~•──◥ ◤──•~❉᯽❉~•──◥
The night before.
You had way too much to drink again, it’s just how you try to get more extroverted in social settings, or at least that’s what you tell yourself to feel better about your insane drinking habits.
There he was, his hair slightly damp from dancing, red cup in hand and a cute smirk resting on his lips, he was beautiful you’d be lying if you were to say your dick didn’t immediately get hard just from looking at him.
Had you not been drunk you might have thought your next action through but that’s just wishful thinking on your part. The moment your eyes meet and the two of you lock eye contact it was over.
One leg followed the other and soon enough you both stared at each other like two idiots too horny to even think.
“Want to come to my dorm?” You asked shamelessly, your cock already throbbing in your pants.
He laughs at your question almost baffled by the audacity but also clearly not apposed to it. He leans in closer kissing you then responding “Yeah…I like the sound of that.”
The moment your dorm room closed it was over, the two of you pounced on each other like wild animals desperate for relief, lips meeting roughly, his tongue immediately searching for yours, your hands reach for the buckle of your pants.
You pull your cock out and instinctively he kneels down, taking you into his mouth without saying a word, he looks up at you, licking the tip like it’s the most taste lollipop he ever had on his tongue, after what he considered enough teasing he gags on your dick, his pretty eyes tearing up while he try’s his hardest to make you melt into his perfect mouth.
You shoot your first load deep down his throat and he swallows it all, he bites his bottom lip the moment your cock leaves his mouth. You grab him by his hair and pull him up. Your lips meet once more as you desperately undress him, once you see how wet his pussy is you can’t help but smirk.
You flip him over harshly, pushing his face down while holding his ass up, you tease both his pussy and ass, slowly rubbing his clit and rimming his hole. Eventually you can’t hold back anymore and slip your cock into his cunt aggressively. He moans like a whore and pushes against your every move, not wanting to miss a single inch of your dick.
“You’re exactly as good as imagined, breed me.” He whines out in a needy tone, his pussy already getting creamy on your cock.
“What are you saying?” You grunt too focused on his pussy to care and too drunk to truly be bothered.
“I wanted you to fuck me since the first time I saw you, I’m all yours baby.” He moans into your ear, wrapping his legs around your thighs locking you inside him.
In your drunken state that just edged you on, making you more horny as you continue to pound his pussy even after he squirts and cums all over your cock, almost like a spell you just couldn’t stop fucking him.
You finally pull out of his sore hole and look at your work, he was laying on your bed, completely passed out , his pussy and ass red dripping with a mixture of your cum and his juices, his tits covered in sweat and cum, face painted white and wet from your loads and his tears. You grunt too spent to care you shove your cock back inside his pussy and lay down next to him, tit in your mouth as you pass out.
There was nothing worse then waking up with a pounding headache after a night out drinking with your friends.
College was fun sure and you were finally living ‘your best years’ but you had one rule: don’t get into a relationship. Of any kind really, the idea of having to deal with your degree, friends, future career was already enough, adding a partner on top of that was just not worth the hassle.
That was until you met him, or rather had a hooked up with him. That night was long and rough and the more you try to remember it the more you cringe as the man standing before you cuddles up to your side, his body bruised and sticky.
◤──•~❉᯽❉~•──◥ ◤──•~❉᯽❉~•──◥
The night before.
You had way too much to drink again, it’s just how you try to get more extroverted in social settings, or at least that’s what you tell yourself to feel better about your insane drinking habits.
There he was, his hair slightly damp from dancing, red cup in hand and a cute smirk resting on his lips, he was beautiful you’d be lying if you were to say your dick didn’t immediately get hard just from looking at him.
Had you not been drunk you might have thought your next action through but that’s just wishful thinking on your part. The moment your eyes meet and the two of you lock eye contact it was over.
One leg followed the other and soon enough you both stared at each other like two idiots too horny to even think.
“Want to come to my dorm?” You asked shamelessly, your cock already throbbing in your pants.
He laughs at your question almost baffled by the audacity but also clearly not apposed to it. He leans in closer kissing you then responding “Yeah…I like the sound of that.”
The moment your dorm room closed it was over, the two of you pounced on each other like wild animals desperate for relief, lips meeting roughly, his tongue immediately searching for yours, your hands reach for the buckle of your pants.
You pull your cock out and instinctively he kneels down, taking you into his mouth without saying a word, he looks up at you, licking the tip like it’s the most taste lollipop he ever had on his tongue, after what he considered enough teasing he gags on your dick, his pretty eyes tearing up while he try’s his hardest to make you melt into his perfect mouth.
You shoot your first load deep down his throat and he swallows it all, he bites his bottom lip the moment your cock leaves his mouth. You grab him by his hair and pull him up. Your lips meet once more as you desperately undress him, once you see how wet his pussy is you can’t help but smirk.
You flip him over harshly, pushing his face down while holding his ass up, you tease both his pussy and ass, slowly rubbing his clit and rimming his hole. Eventually you can’t hold back anymore and slip your cock into his cunt aggressively. He moans like a whore and pushes against your every move, not wanting to miss a single inch of your dick.
“You’re exactly as good as imagined, breed me.” He whines out in a needy tone, his pussy already getting creamy on your cock.
“What are you saying?” You grunt too focused on his pussy to care and too drunk to truly be bothered.
“I wanted you to fuck me since the first time I saw you, I’m all yours baby.” He moans into your ear, wrapping his legs around your thighs locking you inside him.
In your drunken state that just edged you on, making you more horny as you continue to pound his pussy even after he squirts and cums all over your cock, almost like a spell you just couldn’t stop fucking him.
You finally pull out of his sore hole and look at your work, he was laying on your bed, completely passed out , his pussy and ass red dripping with a mixture of your cum and his juices, his tits covered in sweat and cum, face painted white and wet from your loads and his tears. You grunt too spent to care you shove your cock back inside his pussy and lay down next to him, tit in your mouth as you pass out.
Less than 72 hours left to support our Kickstarter campaign!
Burn the Midnight Oil is a 17+ queer, supernatural mystery romance visual novel currently crowdfunding on Kickstarter.
Our campaign ends on April 22nd, which means there's only a few days left to join our 1,100+ other backers and grab yourself some cool merchandise!💖
We're 70% funded right now. We only need a couple of hundred more backers to reach our goal. It feels like a lot, but we have faith we may yet make our goal in the final rush. And if you can't donate yourself or already have donated, please share this post so we may reach others who can - every pledge counts! 🦇🖤
The Fire Nation palace gardens bloomed in the late afternoon light, scarlet and gold petals catching the breeze like embers drifting on the wind. Zuko had insisted on the private tour of the restored eastern wing, his voice steady but warm as he led the way. The group had arrived unannounced that morning — Aang’s glider touching down on the palace roof with a cheerful whoop, Katara and Sokka trailing behind with Toph in tow — and Zuko had welcomed them with the same quiet relief he always showed when old friends crossed his threshold after too many months apart.
You walked a few paces ahead of them, the hem of your deep crimson robes brushing the polished stone path. The fabric was embroidered with subtle golden flames along the sleeves, the kind of royal garment that had once felt foreign but now settled against your shoulders like a second skin. A light breeze lifted your hair as you paused beside a flowering plum tree, fingers brushing a low branch to release a scatter of petals that drifted down like soft pink snow. You smiled to yourself, content in the easy rhythm of palace life you had built together — the quiet mornings, the shared evenings, the way Zuko’s hand found yours without thinking whenever the weight of the crown grew heavy.
Behind you, the group had gone strangely silent.
Sokka was the first to break it, voice pitching up in disbelief. “Uh… Zuko? Who’s the guy in the fancy robes just… strolling around like he owns the place?”
Katara’s eyes widened, water pouch still slung over her shoulder as she stared. “Did you hire a new advisor or something? He’s wearing the royal crest.”
Aang tilted his head, airbending staff balanced lightly in one hand, a curious grin starting to form. “He seems really comfortable. Like he knows every path in the garden.”
Toph snorted, arms crossed, though her blind eyes tracked the faint vibrations of your footsteps on the stone. “And he smells like royal incense and that weird tea Zuko drinks. Spill it, Sparky. Who is he?”
Zuko stopped walking. A faint flush crept up his neck, but his posture remained straight, the scar across his eye softening in the golden light. He glanced at you, and the look that passed between you was small, private — the kind built from two years of stolen mornings and late-night conversations by the turtle-duck pond. You turned back toward the group, offering a calm, easy smile that carried none of the defensiveness they might have expected.
Zuko stepped forward, his hand brushing yours openly now, fingers threading together without hesitation. The touch was simple, but it spoke volumes in the quiet garden air.
“He’s my husband,” Zuko said, voice low but steady, carrying the same quiet certainty he had used the day he had asked you to stay forever. “We got married a while ago. Right here in the palace. Small ceremony. Uncle Iroh and a few other people who could keep a secret.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
Sokka’s jaw actually dropped. “You got married? And you didn’t tell us?”
Katara’s hand flew to her mouth, eyes glistening with sudden, happy tears. “Zuko… that’s wonderful. I can’t believe we missed it.”
Aang’s grin broke wide and bright, the kind that could light up an entire sky. “That’s amazing! You two look really happy together. Like… really, really happy.”
Toph barked a laugh, punching Sokka’s arm hard enough to make him stumble. “Told you Sparky was hiding something big. Congrats, you big softie. And you,” she added, jerking her thumb in your direction with a smirk, “you’ve got good taste.”
You laughed softly, the sound warm and unhurried, and squeezed Zuko’s hand. “We sent invitations. Letters to everyone. But with the rebuilding, the new trade routes, and all the chaos after the war… I guess the mail never quite reached you. We didn’t want to make it a big spectacle. Just us. ”
Zuko’s thumb traced a slow circle over the back of your hand, a gesture so natural it looked like breathing. “I kept meaning to tell you in person. Every time a letter went out or a visit was planned, something came up. The Earth Kingdom delegates, the colonies, the Spirit World negotiations… life kept moving faster than I could catch up. But he’s been here the whole time. My husband.”
The group closed in then, the shock melting into something brighter, warmer. Katara pulled you both into a hug first, her arms tight and fierce. “I’m so happy for you. Both of you. You deserve this.”
Aang joined next, wrapping his arms around the three of you with effortless joy. “We’re family. Always have been. Now it’s official — you’ve got a whole husband to show off!”
Sokka clapped Zuko on the back, grinning wide. “I’m still mad you didn’t tell us, but… yeah. This is good. Really good. He looks like he makes you less grumpy, which is saying something.”
Toph just smirked and punched your arm lightly. “Welcome to the chaos, royal husband guy. Try to keep Sparky from setting the palace on fire when he gets stressed. That’s your job now.”
You felt Zuko relax beside you, the tension he had carried for years easing in a way only old friends and this new life could manage. The sun dipped lower, painting the gardens in hues of rose and amber, and the five of them fell into easy conversation around you — stories of their latest adventures, questions about how you had first met, gentle teasing that never crossed into discomfort.
Zuko leaned in close as the others wandered ahead toward the turtle-duck pond, his voice for your ears alone. “I should have told them sooner. But I liked having you to myself for a while.”
You turned your head and brushed a kiss to his temple, the gesture simple and open in front of the people who mattered most. “We have them now. And it feels right.”The group’s laughter drifted back on the breeze as they argued over who would win a friendly sparring match tomorrow. You and Zuko followed at a slower pace, hands still linked, the royal robes swaying gently with each step. The palace felt fuller tonight — not because of titles or crowns, but because the family you had both chosen had finally arrived to witness the life you had quietly built together.
In the golden light of the setting sun, everything simply felt like home.
I think my tumblr's broken. Won't let me answer requests. I might do one about male reader doing zuko's hair let me know if you'd like that
Sooo many fan fics of nerd Gojo…what about nerd Geto? ;)
-Suguru was rather quite and mostly kept to himself, he was extremely helpful to his classmates since they would take his notes for both the fact that they were making studying easier but also for him being awfully smart (even though he’d say otherwise) and of course being cute helped.
-Suguru was an artistic and emotional person but at the same time one of the best at everything he studied, his major was in sociology being extremely passionate about helping others.
-You meet Suguru through a friend, said friend was clearly trying to set the two of you up, and you would be lying if you said he wasn’t cute and handsome.
-Eventually after quite a while of trying to get Suguru to give in and date you, you get him all to yourself.
-Suguru in the relationship was very different, he was attentive, gentle but at the same time surprisingly enough extremely needy and rather perverted.
-He’d say yes to whatever you had in your mind mostly due to the fact that he was into almost anything.
-It got to the point where he’d be constantly studying with toys inside of him, having to oh so awkwardly talk even at the quite moments out of fear of the vibrations deep inside of him being heard.
-Safe to say for a nerd he loved getting fucked and breed anywhere as long as it didnt mess with his studies of course…
Gojo Satoru maybe be the strongest but even someone as strong as him craves to be weak.
-Satoru has been your boyfriend for years now, you’ve known each other long enough to know what you both desire most. For Satoru? His biggest desire was to be taken care of, he loves being vulnerable whenever possible.
-“Can you do that thing?” He asks almost in a whine tone, you obliged instantly not like you had the strength to say no to your pretty little boyfriend.
-And so your hands start to follow non existent lines on his body, pampering him with light, gentle and loving touches as you whisper sweet nothings into his ear, you can tell that it wasn’t just relaxing for him it was also arousing.
-He whines and begs for more but you know he needs the rest, instead of pleasing him by making him squirm under your fingers you make lay down on your lap and begin brush his soft white curls forcing the strongest to rest.
Happy Birthday Mhin!
Today you’ll find them fishing peacefully along the river, accompanied by their favourite companions - the stray kitties! 🐾 Sounds like a purrrr-fect celebration 🐈⬛🥳
-At first you thought that maybe dating a hybrid wasn’t exactly the most righteous thing, eventually you caved in. Why? Because your boyfriend was the hottest cow boy you’ve ever seen.
-Suguru loves to breastfeed you, even though it’s under a perverted excuse of him saying “It makes my chest less heavy” the truth is he has a kink for it.
-Suguru goes out of his way to not take his heat pills because he so desperately wants you to fill up his cunt like a bull, while he bitches and moans.
-You sometimes wake up with his fat tits in your mouth because he just can’t handle the soreness anymore, and who are you to say no to him.
-Suguru is a desperate little cow slut and you’re more than happy to help him out.
synopsis: gojo is your tutor
pairing: nerd! gojo X frat top male reader
note: any comments or reblogs are appreciated, nerdjo's time to shine- i need more asks about the frat and nerd gojo lol
warning: hickeys, constant marking, manhandling, college AU, fluff/smut
────────────────────────────────────────────
The apartment building was one of those old off-campus dumps that smelled faintly of instant ramen and desperation. You found the right door on the second floor and knocked twice, your duffel bag slung over one shoulder like you actually planned on studying.
It took a few seconds before the door cracked open.
Gojo stood there in an oversized gray hoodie that swallowed his lean frame, the sleeves bunched up to his elbows, and loose black sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His white hair was a chaotic mess, like he’d run his hands through it too many times, and his round glasses sat slightly crooked on his nose. Those striking blue eyes widened the second he saw you- all 6’3, broad-shouldered, frat-built muscle of you filling his doorway.
“U-um… you’re early,” He mumbled, stepping aside quickly. “Come in.”
The place was tiny. A cramped living room doubled as a study area, every flat surface covered in textbooks, loose notes, and highlighters. A small kitchenette was visible to the left, and a half-open door showed a sliver of an even smaller bedroom. It smelled like coffee and old paper.
You kicked off your shoes and dropped your bag by the couch, then immediately took up way too much space. Gojo hovered awkwardly for a second before gesturing to the couch.
“S-so… statistics, right? You said you needed help with regression analysis?”
He sat down on the far end, but you closed the distance without hesitation, thigh pressing firmly against his as you leaned in to look at the notebook he opened. He smelled faintly of laundry detergent and something sweet.
“Yeah,” You said, voice casual. “Professor’s kicking my ass. Figured the smartest guy on campus could fix that.”
Gojo’s cheeks flushed pink. He pushed his glasses up with one finger and cleared his throat, launching into an explanation about linear models and p-values. His voice was soft, a little breathy, and he kept glancing at you like he expected you to laugh at him any second.
You weren’t listening to a single word.
Instead, you let your hand rest on his thigh supposed to be innocent, just a casual touch. Nerdjo faltered mid-sentence. You felt the muscle tense under the thin fabric of his sweatpants.
“R-right, so the coefficient represents…” He swallowed hard when your thumb started slow circles.
You slid your hand higher, fingers playing with the hem of his oversized hoodie, brushing the warm skin just above his waistband. His explanation stuttered into nothing. The blush on his face deepened to a pretty red that spread down his neck.
“You’re really tense,” You murmured, leaning in so your breath brushed his ear. “You need to relax, Satoru. I don’t bite… unless you ask nicely.”
“I-I’m trying to tutor you,” He protested weakly, but his voice cracked when your hand slipped fully under the hoodie, palm sliding up the smooth plane of his surprisingly toned stomach.
He was shaking now, glasses slipping down his nose again. You took the notebook from his trembling hands and set it aside. “Keep explaining,” You ordered softly, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Don’t stop on my account.”
He tried. God, he really tried.
His voice came out in shaky fragments while your hand wandered lower, palming him through his sweatpants. The moment you felt him already half-hard, a broken little whimper escaped his throat.
Within minutes you had him bent over the narrow kitchen counter, hoodie shoved up to his chest, sweatpants and boxers yanked down just enough. One of your big hands pinned his wrists together above his head against the cool countertop. The other gripped his hip hard enough to bruise as you pressed your thick cock against his ass.
The other gripped his hip, easily holding his taller-but-slender frame in place.
You reached into your bag and pulled out the small bottle of lube you’d brought, planned for this moment squeezing a generous amount onto your fingers.
“Easy, baby,” Yu murmured when he tensed at the cool touch. “Gotta prep you first. Can’t just shove it in not with how big I am.”
Gojo let out a shaky, embarrassed sound, forehead pressed to the counter. “Y-you don’t have to- ah-”
Two of your thick fingers circled his tight rim before slowly pushing in. He gasped sharply, legs trembling as you worked him open carefully scissoring, curling, stretching him patiently while he tried (and failed) to keep talking.
“F-formula… the r-squared value is… nngh-!”
You added a third finger, thrusting them deeper, brushing that sensitive spot inside him until his knees buckled and his voice dissolved into high, pretty whimpers. His glasses fogged up from his own panting breaths.
By the time you pulled your fingers out, Gojo was a mess his hole slick and fluttering, cock leaking steadily onto the floor, biting hard on his own wrist to muffle the desperate sounds spilling from his lips.
You slicked your thick cock with more lube and pressed the blunt head against his prepared entrance. “F-formula…” He gasped one last time, still clinging to the tutor role like a lifeline.
You pushed inside him in one slow, relentless thrust, sinking deep until your hips met his ass.
Gojo's back arched hard, a choked moan tearing from his throat. His glasses fogged completely as you bottomed out. He bit down harder on his wrist, but it barely helped as high, needy whimpers still escaped with every deep thrust.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” You groaned, setting a steady rhythm that made the cheap counter creak. “Took my fingers so well… now taking my cock like you were made for it.”
He couldn’t answer properly anymore. His legs trembled, toes barely touching the floor as you fucked him harder, easily manhandling him with every snap of your hips. Every thrust knocked another broken syllable out of him, reducing the genius tutor to a whiny little slut.
You reached around and stroked him in time with your hips. It only took a few firm pumps before Gojo came with a sharp, strangled cry , cum splattering across the kitchen tiles and his own hoodie. His hole clenched rhythmically around your cock as he shook through it, glasses completely fogged and slipping down his nose.
You didn’t stop. You fucked him through the orgasm until he was whimpering from oversensitivity, then finally buried yourself deep and filled him with hot pulses of cum. For a long moment, the only sounds were both of you breathing hard.
Gojo's legs were still trembling when you slowly pulled out. He stayed slumped over the counter, hoodie rumpled, sweatpants around his thighs, a trail of your cum already starting to leak down his leg. His wrist had clear bite marks from where he’d tried to stay quiet.
You leaned over him, chest pressed to his back, and gently fixed his crooked, fogged-up glasses.
“Same time next week?” You asked, voice rough with satisfaction.
Gojo let out a shaky breath, voice barely above a whisper. “This is just physical,” He mumbled, cheeks burning crimson. “A-and no one can ever know.”
You smiled against the back of his neck and pressed one last open-mouthed kiss over the fresh hickey you’d sucked there.
“Sure, baby. Just physical.”
Over the next three weeks, “tutoring sessions” became a filthy routine.
Gojo still greeted you at the door with that same nervous little stutter and crooked glasses, but the moment the lock clicked shut, the pretense crumbled fast.
────────────────────────────────────────────
Desk
You dropped into his rolling chair like you owned it, thighs spread wide, and patted your lap. “C’mere. Show me how you solve that problem set.”
Gojo hesitated, cheeks already pink, but climbed on anyway he faced you and straddled your hips. His oversized hoodie bunched up around his waist as you yanked his sweatpants down just enough. He was already half-hard when you slicked yourself up and pulled him down onto your cock in one smooth motion.
“F-focus on the llaptop,” H gasped, trying to keep his screen open like a good tutor. His hands trembled on the keyboard while you gripped his narrow hips and guided him up and down.
Every time he tried to type or explain a concept, you thrusted up hard, making his voice crack into a broken moan. His glasses kept sliding down his nose as he rode you, white hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.
“R-squared is… ah-! It’s the proportion of variance-." You sucked a dark hickey right below his jaw, then another on his collarbone, marking him while he fell apart.
He came with a choked cry, clenching around you so tightly you followed right after, filling him deep while his laptop screen timed out from inactivity.
Couch
You’d show up after practice, still sweaty in your frat tank top, and pull him into your lap before he could even open a textbook. This time you took your time stroking him slow and torturous, edging him for nearly an hour until tears welled behind his fogged glasses.
“Please…” He whimpered, hips twitching desperately as you denied him again. “I can’t- I need-”
“Beg nicer,” You murmured against his neck, sucking another bruise into the pale skin.
By the time you finally let him come, Gojo was crying softly, babbling your name and soaking his own hoodie with tears and cum. He collapsed against your chest afterward, panting, while you traced the fresh marks you’d left across his throat.
Bed
One Thursday he finally caved and let you stay over. You fucked him slow and deep in his tiny bed, face-to-face.
In the morning you woke him up with your cock already buried inside him, fucking him lazy and possessive until he came untouched, whimpering into the pillow.
He tried to act normal afterward, pushing his glasses up and mumbling, “This is still just normal sex…” but the way he curled into your side and refused to let you leave for another twenty minutes said otherwise.
Shower
After he spent all day tutoring three of your frat brothers, you showed up unannounced.
He was exhausted, hair damp from a failed attempt to shower earlier. You didn’t even let him speak just pushed him into the tiny bathroom, stripped him, and fucked him hard against the shower wall.
Water cascaded over both of you while you pounded into him from behind, one hand over his mouth to muffle those pretty high-pitched moans. He came fast, legs shaking so badly you had to hold him up. When you pulled out, your cum mixed with the shower water and ran down his trembling thighs.
You left a fresh set of hickeys on the back of his neck before you let him go.
Floor
Some days you were both too impatient.
Like the time you walked in, saw him bent over picking up dropped notes, and immediately dropped to your knees behind him. You had him on all fours on the living room floor in seconds the textbooks and loose papers scattering everywhere as you fucked him raw and rough.
He failed to stay quiet while you railed him into the cheap carpet, leaving fingerprint bruises on his hips and another dark mark on the inside of his thigh.
After a while it became almost cute how hard he tried to convince himself while his actions told a completely different story. It started with the texts.
At first, you were the one initiating: “Free tonight? Need help with that assignment.”
By the second week, your phone would buzz in the middle of dinner or after practice with messages from him:
Nerdjo: Are you busy later? I have some new notes that might help with your regression models.
Nerdjo: If you’re free around 8, the apartment is quiet.
Nerdjo: Don’t forget the material from last time.
He never outright said “come fuck me,” but the subtext was so obvious it made you grin every time. You’d reply with a simple “On my way” and watch the typing bubbles appear and disappear like he was nervous even through text.
Then there were the hickeys.
He used to frantically tug his hoodie collar up or wrap a scarf around his neck before leaving the apartment, muttering complaints under his breath about how you “always go too far.”
But somewhere around week three, he stopped hiding them. You noticed it one Tuesday afternoon when you spotted him crossing the quad. The oversized hoodie was still there, but the collar had slipped down just enough to show the cluster of dark purple marks you’d sucked into his pale neck and collarbones the night before.
A couple of faint ones peeked out on his inner wrist too, where you’d pinned him down. People stared. A few girls whispered. One of your frat brothers even nudged you and laughed, “Dude, who the hell is that nerd banging? He’s covered.”
Gojo's cheeks were bright red the entire walk, but he didn’t pull the fabric up. He just kept his head slightly down, books clutched to his chest like a shield.
During a rare group study session in the library (three of your friends plus Gojo), he sat across from you at the long table, looking every bit the shy tutor. Whenever one of the guys asked him a question, his voice was soft and professional, glasses perched perfectly as he explained concepts with that adorable focused frown.
But under the table?
Every time you stretched your leg out and let your calf brush against his, Gojo would tense up, ears turning pink. If you slid your foot higher, teasing along his ankle, he’d stutter mid-sentence and shoot you a quick, flustered glare.
Yet he never pulled away.
Once, when the others were distracted arguing over an answer, you reached over and rested your hand on his thigh under the table, squeezing gently. Gojo's breath hitched. He bit his lower lip hard, pretending to focus on his notebook, but his legs parted just a little wider, letting your fingers drift higher. When you finally pulled back, he let out the tiniest disappointed exhale.
────────────────────────────────────────────
The shift happened slowly, then all at once. Your frat brothers had started paying attention to Gojo.
At first it was just casual comments during group study nights in the common room. “Dude, that tutor guy is actually kinda cute when he gets all passionate about shit,” one of them said, laughing. “Look at those big blue eyes and the messy white hair. Nerdy, but… hot nerdy.”
Another one of your friends leaned back in his chair, smirking. “He’s smart as fuck too. And that innocent vibe? Bet he’d be fun to corrupt. I’m thinking about asking him out. Worst he can say is no, right?”
You were standing by the fridge grabbing a beer when you overheard them. Your grip tightened on the bottle until the glass creaked. The casual way they talked about him pissed you off like he was just another conquest, like they could waltz in and take what you’d been fucking for weeks.
That night you showed up at Gojo's apartment earlier than usual. The second the door closed behind you, you didn’t even let him finish his usual soft “Hi” before you had him pinned against the nearest wall.
“W-wait- what’s gotten into you?” Gojo gasped, hands clutching at your shoulders.
You didn’t answer with words at first. You yanked his hoodie up, shoved his sweatpants down, and lifted one of his legs around your waist. When you pushed inside him in one rough thrust, he cried out, head falling back against the wall with a thud.
You fucked him hard - meaner than usual - hips snapping with possessive force. Every thrust made the cheap wall creak. Your mouth never left his skin, marking his neck, his collarbones, the sensitive spot just below his ear.
“They think they can have you?” You growled low in his ear, voice rough with jealousy. “Fuck that. You’re mine now.”
Gojo whimpered, legs shaking as you railed him against the wall. His cock leaked between your bodies, untouched. “I- ah~ told you it's not t-that”
“Yeah?” You slammed in harder, making his voice break into a high moan. “Then why do you wear my hickeys like badges, huh? Why do you text me first every fucking week?”
He didn’t have an answer. He just clung to you tighter, moaning your name as you fucked the denial right out of him. He knew you were right.
He had also began to gain feelings for you as well and in turn began to get jealous. He tried to hide it, but you caught every flicker.
At the big frat party last weekend, a couple of girls from the sorority had been all over you laughing too loud at your jokes, touching your arm, one of them leaning in close enough that her perfume clung to your shirt. Gojo had been there as one of his best friends in the frat- Geto had dragged him along.
He stood in the corner with a red solo cup, pretending to scroll on his phone, but his eyes kept flicking toward you. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, shoulders tense and he was clearly uncomfortable.
When your brothers pulled you away for shots you saw the way his fingers tightened around the cup until his knuckles went white.
He never said anything about it that night. But the next evening, after he’d spent the afternoon tutoring, he was extra clingy.
You found him waiting by the door when you arrived. The moment you stepped inside he pressed close, face buried in your chest for a second longer than usual. When you teased him about it “What’s with the pout, baby?” he pulled back fast, pushing his glasses up with a flustered huff.
“I’m not pouting. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Later, when you had him bent over the kitchen counter again (his favorite spot, apparently), fucking him slow and deep while he whined freely, the truth slipped out.
You were grinding against that perfect spot inside him when Gojo's voice turned soft.“I don’t like when they touch you…” He whimpered as you thrust harder.
The admission was so cute for some reason, You flipped him around instantly, lifting him so his back was against the counter and his legs wrapped around your waist. You fucked him face-to-face, watching every expression as tears of pleasure pricked at the corners of his eyes.
“Say it again,” You demanded, voice low and rough. Gojo shook his head, embarrassed, but another deep thrust pulled it out of him anyway.
“I don’t like it… when they flirt with you… or touch you…” His voice was barely a whisper, high and needy. “Please…” You kissed him hard, swallowing the rest of his words.
“Remind me what you said 'it’s just physical',” You snarled in his ear, biting the lobe. “Tell me again while you’re creaming on my cock wearing my fucking clothes.”
Tears slipped down his flushed cheeks. Every deep thrust punched broken moans and whimpers out of him. His hole clenched greedily around you, body betraying every denial he’d ever whispered.
“It’s not…” He sobbed, voice high and shattered. “It’s not just physical anymore… please”-
You slammed in harder, grinding against his prostate. “Please what?”
“Please don’t go…” Gojo's voice cracked into a desperate whine. “I’m yours- I’m yours, don’t let them-” That was all you needed.
You fucked him through his first orgasm right there his cock pulsing in your fist, cum splattering the floor as his legs gave out. You held him up effortlessly, still thrusting deep, chasing your own release and dragging him toward another.
By the time you carried his limp, oversensitive body to the tiny bed, Gojo was a whimpering mess and tears clung to his lashes. You laid him down gently and slid back inside him for slower, deeper rounds.
This time you took your time- long thrusts while he clung to you like a lifeline, arms wrapped around your neck, face buried in your shoulder.
“Mine,” You murmured against his sweaty temple, kissing the fresh marks you’d left. “Say it.”
“Yours…” He whispered breathlessly, voice hoarse from moaning. His hips rolled weakly to meet yours. “Only yours…”
You fucked him through two more shaking orgasms, softer now, until he was trembling and oversensitive, every touch pulling little broken whimpers from his throat. Only then did you let go, filling him deep while he shuddered and clung tighter.
Afterward, the room was quiet except for your mingled breathing.
Gojo curled into your chest like he belonged there, legs tangled with yours in his tiny bed. His white hair tickled your chin as he nuzzled closer, one hand fisting the fabric of your shirt like he was afraid you’d disappear. The oversized frat hoodie he’d stolen from you was still on, the navy fabric contrasting beautifully against his flushed skin.
You held him close, one arm wrapped securely around his slender back while your other hand slowly traced the fresh hickeys blooming across his neck and collarbones. Your fingers brushed over the dark bruises you’d left, then drifted lower to the ones on his inner thighs, gentle now where you’d been rough earlier.
Gojo shivered at the light touch, letting out a tiny, content sigh against your skin. He nuzzled closer, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, his breathing still a little ragged but slowing into something peaceful.
“No more hiding,” You said quietly, voice low and steady as your fingers continued their lazy path over his skin. “No more casual sex. You’re mine now. Tell my dumbass friends to back off if they even think about asking you out.”
For a moment, Gojo stayed silent, then his cheeks flushed a deep, furious crimson that spread all the way to the tips of his ears. He tried to hide it by burying his face deeper into your neck, but you could feel the heat radiating off him.
“…Idiot,” He mumbled, the word muffled against your skin. His voice was soft, hoarse from all the moaning and crying earlier, but there was a shy fondness in it that made your chest tighten. “But okay.”
You chuckled quietly, the sound rumbling through your chest. You pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his messy white hair, then another to the sensitive spot just below his ear where a fresh hickey was already darkening.
“Yeah?” You murmured, squeezing him a little tighter. “Okay?”
Gojo nodded, the movement small and shy. One of his hands came up to clutch at the front of your shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric like he needed the anchor. “I… I don’t want them anyway,” he admitted in the smallest voice, barely above a whisper. “Just you.”
You tilted his chin up gently so you could see his face those pretty blue eyes glassy with exhaustion and something warmer. You leaned in and kissed him slowly, tenderly this time.
When you pulled back, Gojo's eyes fluttered open, a tiny, bashful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite how hard he was trying to hide it. “Stay tonight?” He asked, voice barely there, like he was afraid you’d say no.
You smiled, brushing a stray lock of white hair off his forehead. “I’m not going anywhere, baby.”
He let out a soft, relieved breath and settled back against your chest, legs tangling with yours under the covers. His body relaxed completely in your arms, the tension from weeks of denial finally melting away.
As his breathing evened out into sleep, you kept tracing lazy patterns over the marks you’d left on him- a silent promise.
gladiator! geto suguru x emperor's son! male reader
━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━
includes: bottom gladiator geto, top reader who is the emperor's son, oral sex (reader receiving), ass jobs, dub-con/power dynamics
notes: this ended up being more plot than porn but i'm working on a part two which will be more focused on the freaky stuff. also this probably isn't completely historically accurate, but i don't think anyone is reading this for the history.
~5.8k words.
masterlist
━━━━━━━━━ 𓆗 ━━━━━━━━━
All that Geto can register is how hot it is.
The fiery sun beating down on him, threatening to burn each piece of skin exposed by his loose tunic.
Sweat is practically pouring from all over his body, his once shining black hair now sticking to his forehead, cheeks and neck.
His vision is blurring, his head aches and he feels as though he might faint any second.
A faded voice barks something from somewhere and Geto gets a sharp push on his shoulder.
He looks around, dazed, locking eyes with a short old man dressed in robes that were obviously unnatural on him.
The idiot shouts at Geto to move forward, shoving him along to catch up with the person in front of him in the unending line of men.
As Geto walks, he observes the others in the lines next to his. Each man is completely different to the one before him - some are thin and stalky, others bulging with muscles and towering over everyone.
Geto wonders how these behemoths had gotten tangled up in this situation with him.
The majority of the men in these lines have all been captured from some foreign place that was unfortunate enough to be overpowered by the same brutish, greedy army that Geto had faced.
Some of the men are impoverished natives to the land Geto currently stands on, clinging to a tiny thread of hope that they might be able to prove themselves in whatever horrific trial awaits them. Geto empathizes each one he walks with.
Geto himself is already a warrior. An adept soldier for his homeland with a strong and agile body, which already places him above most other people here. But he knows that whatever trial awaits him in this small, over-crowded arena is going to be much worse than anything he's used to.
────────────────────────────────────────────
A gladiator.
That's what he's called now. He's no longer Geto Suguru, he has to earn that name back.
He's exhausted, on the brink of collapsing, and the same old man from earlier is yapping in his ear as he's ushered out of the arena. He physically can't focus on what the man is saying, he's only gathered that he's being taken to a much larger place to fight.
He did well in his battles today. The majority of the people he entered with in those lines this morning can't say the same.
He lets himself be manhandled into a jittery metal cage atop a cart, alongside a few others. They all seem to be in a similar state to Geto, which reassures him slightly.
He passes out for the bulk of the journey, stirring when masses of shouts and cheers flood in around him.
"Good morning, handsome," a youthful voice teases at him.
It earns laughs from the others he cooped up with.
Geto's tired eyes fall on the jokester - a young man, who must be around the same age as him, with a tall, lean frame and pure white hair that's been tainted by dried blood. As if this wasn't unique enough, the man's irises are a sparkling blue, far too bright considering what they've witnessed in the past day.
He observes the others sitting with him, whose appearances are dull compared to the white-haired boy. They also seem to be the same age as Geto, possibly slightly younger, with one possessing flat blond hair and a gloomy expression and the other having dark brown hair and matching eyes.
The brunet beams back at Geto as if he's not just been through the most horrific scenes.
"You've been knocked out the whole way!" he states cheerily. "You're lucky, you're just in time to see the parade!"
Geto blinks, confused.
"Parade?" he mutters, throat dry and stinging.
"Yeah, apparently the emperor's son is coming back from a visit from far away." the man with sparkling eyes explains, his tone indicating that he has little respect for said emperor's son.
"The people love him, they say he's gonna be an even better emperor than his father!" the brunet pipes up again, his claims making the other two roll their eyes in disdain. "By the way, what's your name? We haven't had the chance to get to know you yet."
Still quite out of it, Geto has to take a moment to think about his answer.
"Geto," he eventually replies, voice cracking.
The others introduce themselves - the brunet being called Haibara, the blond Nanami and the one with white-hair being Gojo.
Geto twirls his thumbs as the cart falls silent, feeling as though there is little point in trying to become friends given their likely futures.
He shifts to look through the metal bars and, sure enough, he's met with a bustling city. Exquisite banners and ribbons decorate the streets, with commoners and elites alike clapping and yelling excitedly.
When Geto takes a closer look, he notices that many of them are cheering at them and the multiple carts in front of and behind them, rather than one particular cart. The emperor's son must not be here yet.
The deeper they're led into the city, the more trumpets and voices fill Geto's ears, making it hard for him to focus.
The cart carries them further in until eventually it rests. The door to the cage is yanked open, with the young men inside being shouted at to get out.
Geto steps out first and he's instantly hit with dust attacking his eyes and throat. As he's coughing and frantically blinking the dust away, he hears a close voice behind him.
"Holy shit..."
It's Gojo. Geto turns around to ask him what's wrong and he, too, is left starstruck at the sight of a giant amphitheatre, adorned with statues of gods and goddesses, dominating the city's skyline.
As impressive as the sculpture is, Geto shudders imagining the size of the arena this building must hold, and the terrors that he'll have to fight in it.
────────────────────────────────────────────
The living area in the gladiator school is not as depressing as Geto thought it would be.
He has his own bed, which he's thankful for, though he doubts he'll be able to get much sleep each night.
The training area would have been his favorite place if it wasn't for the fact that members of the public were able to spectate the gladiators inside.
That's currently happening. Geto stands in the corner, watching as groups of gladiators spar with one another. There's a distinct tension in the air and everyone seems to be acting overly-aggressive, as if they're performing.
Geto wonders if there's someone special in the audience. He glances up to the rows of people. He can't identify anyone by face or name, however his gaze lingers on a young man dressed in a white toga with purple lining. The man is slouched in the chair, legs spread wide in a manner that must be disrespectful, compared to everyone else sitting up straight and proper.
While he isn't familiar with the local dress codes, from these details Geto supposes the young man must be important in some way.
From here, Geto can feel a sort of charm exuding from him, typical of a young noble. Even those sitting around him seem to be uneasy. Though it has little effect on him and he concentrates back on the sparring. He has no reason to care for such people.
────────────────────────────────────────────
You hate gladiator fights. Each time you're forced by your father to attend one, you're reminded of how wearisome they are.
You much prefer attending plays and banquets or visiting bath houses and brothels. You know, things more suited to the emperor's delinquent son.
However, your father has stressed how important it is that you start taking interest in the fights, especially since he is eager to make you his heir. You have proven yourself as worthy to hold the title of emperor, regardless of how little you wanted it.
So here you are - sat watching filthy, sweaty hunks of men uselessly swing swords at one another. Each gladiator looks the same to you - at least six feet tall with too much muscle to do them any good. That's partly what makes you hate the games so much.
With the fighting men losing more and more of your interest, you scan the idle gladiators filling the rest of the training area. Perhaps you can find someone you'll look forward to seeing in the arena later. Not because of their brawn, but more so because of how pleasing they are to look at, which is really the main reason you attend gladiator fights.
It just so happens that you clock a pretty boy with jet black hair that falls past his shoulders, hidden in the corner. Like you, he's surveying your fellow audience members. Even from afar, his toned body is apparent. The brown tunic he has on is hideous and you'd like to see what he'd look like in something a bit more flattering.
You make a mental note to keep an eye out for him in the arena before going back to viewing the gladiators duking it out.
You do so a second too early, just missing your pretty boy's gaze landing on you.
────────────────────────────────────────────
A day later, Geto and hundreds of other gladiators are locked in the grim tunnels under the amphitheatre.
Geto’s heart is racing beneath his thin tunic as he paces at the bottom of the steps leading to the arena.
He’s next to go out.
Just him. Out of all of the gladiators available, Geto is the sole opponent to whoever, or whatever, is waiting for him.
He thinks he’s going to be sick.
His companions that he arrived with push through the others to encourage him.
“Don’t worry about it, Geto! You’re strong, we know you can beat whatever’s out there!” Haibara exclaims.
While Geto gives a slight nod in gratitude, Haibara’s encouragement doesn’t work that well.
Gojo opens his mouth to offer some more comforting words, but he is cut off by the crowd suddenly erupting into cheer. They even begin chanting something Geto can't quite make out.
"What's going on?" he asks, nerves building.
“It’s alright,” Nanami reassures him. “It’s likely just the emperor arriving.”
As if the thought of the emperor himself watching Geto risk his life is reassuring to him in any way.
The crowd’s chants get louder, Geto can now make out what they're screaming.
"[NAME]! [NAME]! [NAME]!"
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, desperate for the event to just be over with.
A booming voice pierces through the noise. Geto struggles to hear what the voice is saying, however he is able to figure out that his name is being announced when the heavy metal doors leading to the arena are hauled open.
With a bone-chilling screech from the metal echoing throughout the tunnel, Geto can barely acknowledge a sword being thrust into his hand.
His heart drops and he immediately looks to Gojo, who stares back at him with wide, almost scared eyes.
Gojo gives him a sympathetic smile before Geto walks up the stairs. He receives several shouts of 'good luck!' and 'you got this!', which do little to soothe him.
At the top of the steps, Geto takes a deep breath and steps into the arena.
────────────────────────────────────────────
Immediately upon laying his feet on the beige sand, Geto is overwhelmed in every sense.
The light blinds him as it reflects off the sand and the screaming crowd rattles his eardrums.
After taking a moment to adjust, Geto looks around at those above. Thousands, no, tens of thousands of people are seated around him, applauding and hollering at him like he’s a circus animal.
He hears the metal doors slam shut behind him, a wave of claustrophobia running through his veins as he realises he has no escape.
He clutches the sword in his hand, both now coated with sweat.
When he looks up into the podium, his gaze fixates on the emperor - a ruthless and intimidating man who, despite his grand lifestyle, is clearly physically fit and commands respect. Geto resists the urge to launch his sword right at him.
Then Geto’s eyes fall on the younger man sitting next to the emperor. His uninterest in the upcoming game is evident in the way he’s slouched in his chair, his head resting lazily on his palm. Geto's eyes widen as he notices the striking similarity in this man’s posture to the man in the training arena.
What gets him the most, however, is the fact that everyone in the stadium is currently cheering for him. For Geto Suguru.
His feelings are mixed. These scum of the earth believe they have the right to cheer him on when they're so thirsty to see him get slaughtered? Pathetic.
Though at the same time, the sound of thousands of people all shouting his name, cheering down at him out of all the gladiators available, makes him feel like some sort of champion.
A small smirk tugs at the side of Geto's mouth.
The name of his opponent is announced, but Geto is too far away to properly make it out. Instead, he watches intensely as another pair of giant doors opposite him begin to open.
He has to swallow down the bile that rises in his throat when he sees a huge, muscular man walk into the sun. The man's hair is the same colour as Geto's, however is much shorter and falls down his face like ink.
His experience over Geto is evident as he leisurely makes his way to the centre of the arena, each step taken with an almost rehearsed confidence - like the man knows he's going to win.
Geto doesn't let the man get into his head, readying himself for the fight.
However, nothing could have prepared him for the speed at which his opponent darts towards him. Geto only just manages to block what would've been a devastating slash to his chest, jumping backwards with wide eyes.
The larger man only tilts his head, almost in curiosity, before chuckling smugly.
"No need to try too hard, kid," he taunts, voice low and menacing. "I won't be too hard on ya."
His belittling words enrage Geto, who swings at his shoulder with all the power he can muster. All it takes is for the man to quickly step sideways for Geto to miss. The younger boy has no time to prepare for his opponent's powerful leg smashing into his stomach, knocking him back and onto the ground.
What makes it worse is the humiliating "Ohh!" from the crowd as Geto goes down.
As the fight goes on, the heat begins to work against Geto.
Each movement becomes a blur and the loud audience gets drowned out by a shrill ringing in his ears.
Eventually, he ends up on his back on wet crimson sand with no more strength to pick himself up. The last thing he remembers is a distant call and a tough foot colliding with his face that knocks him out cold.
────────────────────────────────────────────
Geto wakes, sore and dazed, surrounded by grey.
There's someone hitting him-- No, they're...patting him?
He lifts his head, which feels like it has weights attached to it. His vision is still foggy, though he can make out the shape of a person, much smaller than him, sitting beside him.
As his brain clears a little, he can feel them repeatedly pressing his arm with something. Something that scratches against his skin.
He looks down, blinking away the fuzziness, noticing that there's a thick bandage around his chest and stomach.
"What..?" his voice is small and rasped - he almost doesn't recognise it.
"You're awake?" the person next to him speaks.
He looks to them, able to see clearer now, and sees they're a young woman, close in age to him.
She has short brown hair and holds a damp cloth, which she is using to wipe away dried blood on his skin.
At the sight of his own blood, memories of the day flood back to him.
He lets out a shaky exhale, struggling to believe that he's actually alive.
"I lost...didn't I?" he asks, throat dryer than the sand he passed out on.
The medic halts her movements for a beat.
"I wouldn't call it losing," she answers, continuing to clean his arm. "You fought a much more experienced gladiator and survived."
Geto considers her words.
"You're lucky [Name] was there, otherwise your opponent probably would have kept beating you."
He looks back at her, confused.
"[Name]?"
The young woman finishes up her work and folds the cloth, holding it in her lap.
"He ordered the fight to stop, much to your opponent's disappointment. It caused a big commotion, you’re real famous now."
Geto can barely understand what is being said to him.
The son of the emperor stopped the fight? Right before Geto would have been killed?
"Why?" he asks again.
She simply shrugs, standing up to leave.
"Maybe he's taken a liking to you," she comments before leaving the cell and walking away.
Immediately, a guard locks the cell door and follows the young woman to accompany her out.
He stares at the empty space she had occupied, pondering what she said. He clutches a thin shirt that has been left for him to wear, though with how weak his body feels he doubts he's able to lift it over his head.
Instead, he opts to use it as a depressing pillow to sleep on as he lays down on the unforgiving stone seat in the cell.
He falls asleep in agony and discomfort that night. Regardless, part of him hopes that if he was lucky enough to avoid death, he'll be lucky enough to get out of this nightmare.
────────────────────────────────────────────
A few hours later, Geto is awoken again, this time by someone battering against the door of his cell.
"Get up, crazy bangs, you've got a visitor!" a rough voice calls to him.
Limbs still burning in agony, Geto sits up, eyeing the guard that's unlocking the cell door.
It creaks open and a figure clad in heavy robes enters.
Something in the air shifts, like the stone walls are holding their breath. It's too dark to make out the features of the figure, but Geto can tell from the silhouette that it's a man.
The man signals something to the guard, who hands him a lantern. The soft glow illuminates the man's clothing, a toga with gorgeous purple lining and accents - a dead giveaway of the importance of this man, and something he’s seen before.
Geto can tell who you are before even looking up at your face.
You hold the lantern still, taking your time to admire this gladiator's beauty in complete silence. You bring a hand up to gently hold his chin between your fingers, tilting his head up towards you to get an even better look.
Geto tries to pull away from your touch, yet your grip is strong and his lack of strength makes it easy for you to harshly tug him back. There's nothing he can do.
“Just as I thought,” you murmur. “Pretty.”
Geto shifts anxiously, face heating up. For the first time, he gets a proper look at the son of the emperor. Your features are sharp and strong, yet exude a certain elegance fitting for the heir to the empire. Your perfect, unmarred skin nearly shimmers against the light of the lantern. Geto physically can't bring himself to look away, no matter how much he might want to.
"You did well against that savage," your voice is smooth, firm, nearly lulling Geto back to sleep.
You take another moment to analyse his beauty. Despite having the body of a warrior, his face is gentle. Almost beautiful.
The way he glowers at you, acting all scary when in reality he can't do anything to overpower you right now, makes your heart skip a beat in excitement.
"You're too pretty to be a gladiator," you speak again, not breaking the eye contact between you two.
"You think you can handle me like an animal just cause you're the son of the emperor?" he hisses, his eyes glowing like wildfires beside the lantern. "I'd like to see how you'd cope in the arena."
His words are coated with venom, yet they hardly intimidate you. In fact, you're tempted to coo at how cute you find his pitiful attempt.
All it takes is a single strike to the side of his face for the gladiator's confidence to melt away.
"Don't talk back to me."
Your voice is monotonous, as if you have no reason to suspect Geto will defy you. Such is the power that comes with being the heir to an empire.
Geto's face burns, both from the impact of your hand and from embarrassment. He can no longer bear making eye contact with you, even when you take hold of his jaw again.
You crouch down, kneeling between his legs, face inches away from his. He keeps his eyes fixed on the floor.
"It'd be a shame for this to be wasted..." you whisper. Geto's sure you're talking to yourself, but he can clearly hear the seductive intent.
He now realises that his survival was no act of divine intervention, but instead a result of your curiosity. Your interest. Your lust.
You tenderly guide Geto's head up once more, signalling that you want him to look at you again. Feeling hopeless, he has no choice but to adhere to your wishes.
When his eyes meet yours, you don't say anything. You only offer a small smile to him - one that contradicts the poisonous things you've said to him.
You let him examine you like a frightened stray to a kind passerby that felt sorry for it. You don't rush him to do anything, though it's not like you're giving him a choice to make.
Your hand traces up his jaw and down his neck, carefully tucking some of Geto's ebony locks behind his ear. The medic you'd sent in did a decent job of cleaning him up with just a wet cloth, but the poor guy looks a mess. It saddens you to see such alluring beauty be spoiled by the stains of violence.
Dark circles frame his tired eyes that still haven't left yours. Eyes that seem to be trying to read your expressions, determining whether or not you can be trusted.
But you're not quite here to make friends with the young gladiator. Not today.
"I'd like to find a better use for this pretty face."
A pit forms in Geto's stomach as you withdraw your hand and stand up. This one is much larger than when he was about to enter the arena, possibly due to the complete uncertainty around what you're about to make him do. Or rather, what you're about to do to him.
You turn to the guard who's still standing awkwardly at the door of the cell. Geto had forgotten he's there.
"Are you expecting me to let you watch this free of charge?" you snap.
At this, the guard hurries out of the cell like a little mouse.
You wait until you hear the door at the end of the hall slam shut to turn your attention back to Geto, who catches the way your eyes immediately soften upon laying on him.
"Don't worry, your neighbors are still cooped up in that arena," you reassure him, sensing his apprehension. "So you can make as much noise as you want."
The lantern flickers.
Geto stares back at you, thinking through his options.
If it truly is just you and him in this hallway of cells, what's stopping him from pushing you away? From throwing you against the wall and beating the shit out of you? Even though the guard from earlier is likely posted outside the hall, surely he would be more concerned about your wellbeing than Geto escaping?
He knows you know this too, from the way you're motionless above him, hands planted at your sides. Waiting for him to make his choice.
So why can't he do it? Why does he find himself glued to this unbearable stone seat?
At his lack of movement, you smile gladly. You take a step towards him, his nose now nearly buried in your robes, and still Geto doesn't move.
You cup his warm face in your hands, smiling down at him like a proud parent.
"Don't worry, pretty. I won't be too rough."
You move your hands to grasp the hair on the back of his head, silently beckoning him to act. But Geto remains frozen in place, looking up at you, dumbstruck.
You cock your head slightly.
"Do I have to do all the work myself, Geto?"
The sound of his name shocks Geto into action and he shakily reaches for your toga. He slowly bundles up the fabric, staring at your muscled legs that are getting more and more exposed.
He bites his lip to stop himself from salivating when he sees the bulge underneath your loincloth. You offer him a hand and hold the bundled fabric to keep it from falling, allowing your partner to get to work.
He pulls your undergarment down and audibly gasps when your manhood is revealed.
He wraps one hand over your length, a deep blush coating his cheeks when he sees you harden. He timidly begins stroking up and down. Geto can't stop himself from letting out a small moan at the sight of your sex growing heavier and more erect each with each motion.
Regret fills his mind with each pump of his hand. He shouldn't be doing this. He should be running out the cell and away from this life, into the freedom he once had.
But fuck, something about you keeps him entranced.
He keeps going until you're fully hard, his own dick twitching when he sees drops of pre leak from your tip.
Just as he's about to lick them off, one of your hands returns to the back of his head and shoves him towards your heat.
He yelps cutely in surprise, with no choice but to nuzzle into your balls. He whines at your musky smell, lapping at your base and gradually getting closer to your tip.
"Don't keep me waiting, Geto," you tease, arousal coating your voice with a dangerous growl.
Not wanting to risk angering you (though that would probably turn him on more), Geto takes you in his mouth midway, sighing at your dick's weight on his tongue.
He starts to bob his head along your length, maintaining his hand movement on the area he can't fit. Without even registering what he's doing, he brings his other hand up to stroke your balls.
You sigh in satisfaction, scratching the back of his head in praise.
"That's it Geto. I knew you'd be good at this~"
Pleasure drips from your husky voice, spurring Geto to go faster. The makeshift scalp massage you're giving him makes him hum around you, sending vibrations into you that only make his mouth feel a hundred times better.
Wet slurps mixed with your pants echo through the chamber.
Geto picks up the pace more, taking more of you into his mouth until he's able to fit your entire girth inside. It's nearly too much and he whines around you as tears fill his eyes.
"Shh, not much longer, baby~ You're doing so good for me..."
Your praise goes straight to Geto's dick, which is now throbbing against his clothes. He desperately ruts against the hard stone, which manages to bring him some relief amongst the pain.
As his brain starts to go mushy from your thick scent, you take over and start pistoning your hips. Geto immediately goes limp in your hold, gagging and moaning like a whore as your dick repeatedly slams into the back of his throat.
He hangs on to your robes for dear life, squeezing his eyes shut as he braces for your climax.
When it does rush through you, you pull out until just your tip is left in Geto's hot mouth and watch in delight as he takes your load down his throat.
Soft whimpers escape him as it becomes slightly too much, your release dripping out the sides of his mouth as you pull out.
“That’s it, swallow it all, Geto.”
His face scrunches up at the taste but he eventually swallows it all down. He peers up at you, almost wanting your approval.
You tuck another tangled piece of hair behind his ear. He squirms, clearly agitated from his throbbing boner.
You chuckle softly at the sight, stroking his cheek with your thumb.
“Get up,” you mutter, but it’s more than enough for Geto to listen.
He rises from the discomfort of the stone seat.
Your arms snake around his waist, gently turning him around so that his back is facing you.
Anticipation transforming into panic, Geto grabs your wrist tightly and whips his head round to look at you.
“N-No, wait—!”
“Shh…” like you’re hushing a kitten screaming and swiping its claws at you, you press yourself against Geto, trapping him against the wall.
The protrusion of the stone ledge makes him lean forward, his round ass now perfectly settled against your crotch.
“Not like this! Please, my lord—“ Geto babbles, still not thinking to push you away.
Your soft hand travels up his spine, giving delicate rubs to his back over the bandage. Geto winces at the sting. As much as you'd love to ruin him here, you pity Geto just enough to decide not to shove your dick inside of him right now. That likely wouldn't have a nice outcome for either of you.
You do, however, opt to snake your other hand up Geto's side, then push his bottoms down. You tug his undergarment down as well and relish in the perfect view you have of Geto's sweet ass.
His well-built muscles provide a delightful size and shape and you massage one of his cheeks.
He whimpers at the feeling of you groping him yet continues to do nothing to object. He would be lying if he said he didn't like it and the raging boner swinging between his thighs is enough evidence of that.
"My lord~..." he gasps as he feels your hot length slide between his ass-cheeks, fully erect again just from the sight of him presenting himself to you.
You grind slowly and deeply against him, his supple flesh providing blissful stimulation to your dick. His warmth completely envelops your sex and you rest your head against his shoulder to listen to his lovely sounds.
When he senses you close to him, he subconsciously turns his head towards you, bumping his nose against yours. His eyes are shut, likely since he's too embarrassed to make eye contact. You aren't happy with that.
You place your hand that was groping him onto the side of his face, cupping it and bringing it even closer to yours.
"Eyes on me, pretty," you purr, delighted at the way he swiftly opens his eyes and locks onto yours.
More fresh tears threaten to spill from the compromising position he's in.
You want to make him cry even more for you, so you move your other hand from his back around to his angry dick, continuing to grind against him.
He lets out an open-mouthed moan at the pleasure your heated hand gives him as you jerk him off, uncaring about starting slow.
"Doesn't that feel good, baby?" you hum against him when he nods frantically. "Mmh~, tell me how good it feels."
"Ah! F-Feels so good, m-my lord~!" he pants, breath fanning against your skin and filling your ears with loud moans and gasps.
You grin. It seems Geto has made the decision for you about whether you should keep him in your quarters and bed him.
The image alone of him writhing and screaming in your bed from the pleasure you're bringing him is enough to edge you closer to your orgasm. Or perhaps he'd look better bent over your balcony, releasing moans for all the city to hear?
You suppose there's time for all of that later.
Right now, the only image that matters is Geto clinging to the rugged wall in front of him as your wet dick slides between his ass, your precum coating his gorgeous mounds in glistening stickiness.
You lick your lips at the slick and dirty sounds produced by your motions. You lift your head off Geto's shoulder, looking down at your dick disappearing between Geto's thick ass. Your dick throbs, ready to paint it in your cum.
Geto isn't faring much better either, knees shaking as he desperately ruts into your hand like an dog in heat. When your cock throbs between his cheeks, Geto whines in excitement, waiting to feel your hot semen spurt onto him.
At a particularly heavenly grind, your orgasm crashes into you, causing you to completely pin him against the wall as cum coats Geto's backside.
Geto moans into the stone as he joins you in your high, cumming all over the wall as he spasms in your hold. He presses his hips are far back into yours as he can, trying to get every last drop of your release onto his body.
Even as you both come down, you keep grinding shallowly against each other, like you don't want this moment to end. To be honest, that's quite true.
Before he's fully caught his breath, you grab Geto's chin and pull him in for a messy kiss over his shoulder. He moans into it, grasping the fabric over your chest to steady himself.
After you pull away he gazes up at you, eyebrows furrowed as he worries over what you're going to say or do next.
He watches silently as you reach over and pick up his shirt that's been lying on the stone seat for hours. He's about to be thankful that none of his release got onto it until you dab it against his behind, cleaning the cum off. You keep the image of his soft ass jiggling with each pat in your mind for later.
When you meet his eyes again, he's glaring at you.
"Don't worry, baby, I'll get you a new one," you chuckle, moving a piece of hair over his shoulder and onto his back to see him better. "Maybe even something better."
You back away, taking his shirt with you and leaving him frozen, naked, in the cell.
He quickly pulls his remaining clothes back up and wipes away the evidence of your activities before the guard returns to lock his cell again. Although, he's pretty sure the guard is aware of these activities from the way he avoids looking at Geto.
The next day when Geto's training, he makes sure to put extra effort in. He has to win his next fight to see how you'll reward him.
synopsis. what better way to celebrate new years than giving in to baby fever? guess you’ll just have to breed him all night long until he gets pregnant. wc. 5.2k
tags. top! reader, sub! gojo, toji, sukuna, geto separately. reader has a cock. baby fever, pregnancy kink, breeding kink. set in the a/b/o world as a plot device for mpreg. true-form sukuna & beast! reader, afab! geto, toji is a father of six (nine now). creampies, rough anal & vaginal sex, feminization, primal play, slut-shaming, dacryphilia, overstim, oviposition (only sukuna), daddy/mommy kink, full nelson, kitchen sex, mounting, nesting, size difference, belly bulging, mean tummy pushing, praise kink, degradation, extremely cockdrunk! suguru. whiny, needy jjk men.
a/n. you should know the drill by now . . . enjoy!
“. . . make a baby?” satoru whined, headily peering up at you between two spread, quivering thighs, held up invitingly for you. “heard it- it takes a lot of hard work to make one . . . ”
“yes,” you grunted, brows fixed together in concentration as you gazed down at your lustrous mate, his lidded eyes glazed over in pure bliss. he was spread prettily underneath you, lewd pants and whimpers tumbling out of kiss-bitten lips as your cock continued to stretch tautly at his pink, puffy rim, forcing its way in one fat inch by one fat inch. “‘s that mean you don’t wanna? m-make a baby. with me.”
satoru shook his head quickly, cheeks heating up as you repeated that phrase again.
“‘course i wanna!” he mewled out, glossy eyes peering up at you in mock offense, “if it’s with you… i th-think it’d be okay.” he glanced away, cheeks heating up as though he was embarrassed by the idea of carrying your child, but you weren’t having any of that.
satoru sobbed out a piteous whine as your girthy length dragged along his spongy walls as though it wanted to leave, feeling himself clench eagerly around it to restore the fullness. “noo, come back,” he whined, sharp nails raking down your back in pretty red trails, letting out a happy purr when you thrust to the hilt again, filling his stomach up.
“‘m talking ‘bout a baby, satoru, not some toy…” you huffed disapprovingly, pressing a gentle kiss to the sensitive underside of his jaw, to which he let out a shrilly gasp at. “a baby right here.” you gave his tummy a little prod, and he whimpered, his walls pulsating around you at the mere thought of you planting a seed right there… a dirty little secret buried deep inside him, where no one would know but the two of you. “that’s what i want. do you understand me, ‘toru?”
“i knoow what you’re talkin’ about,” satoru slurred sousedly, pupils dilated as proof of his intense arousal. he palmed his pudgy tummy with one hand, mimicking your earlier actions, before glaring up at you. “‘m not stupid, i’m the best. ‘said i want a baby, so gimme one, ‘kay? your baby.”
“i heard it takes a lot of hard work to make one, though,” you carefully repeated his own words, a sly grin slowly etching itself onto your face. he mumbled something under his breath that sounded awfully like ‘meanie’ before it sharpened into a whine as you pressed harder into the curved cusp of his hips, the fullness making it almost hard to breathe. “hours and hours of labour and hard work non-stop, in fact.” you huffed out a soft laugh, “well, it’s me doing the hard work anyway, but you won’t get to rest at all. you sure you can handle that, baby? might as well keep you on my cock all night long if you’re up for it…”
he nodded enthusiastically, treating this like a challenge as he always would. satoru was the best. the best omega in all of the clans: tight sopping hole, negligible gag reflex, and a fertile womb that was always, always ready for breeding. and if you wanted a child, he was going to be the best child-bearer in the world.
“put a baby in me,” he told you, firmly. “and don’t you dare stop until you do.”
and that was all you needed to snap.
like a man possessed, you snarled a quick curse into his neck, nipping at the mating bite you had embedded there on the side with stark affection before getting to work. two sweaty palms found their way onto the thick of his hips, gripping and squeezing, roughly yanking him back to meet every violent nudge of your bulbous cockhead against his prostate gland, now throbbing sweetly and starting to swell.
satoru sobbed out your name loudly in querulous, broken syllables, thrashing wildly under your grip, but you didn’t let go—never would, only held on as your omega clutched on to your shoulders equally as tight. you would fulfil your promise, make him yours in every sense of the word. you would impregnate him.
“gonna make you a mommy,” you heaved out, pressing down onto his softened tummy. you wanted to make him feel you inside, thick and hefty and pulsing with life, and he wailed out, the pressure on his slightly distended stomach increasing tenfold with one single push of your hot palm. “gonna make you full and round n’ swollen with me. is that what you want, ‘toru? to get knocked up like a good cumslut?”
“yes,” satoru snivelled, tears dotting on his lashes as he whined pitifully at you. “a-alpha. ‘m your good cumslut omega. please...” he didn’t know what he was pleading for, he didn’t care, as long as at the end of the day, he would be stuffed to the brim with cum and seed with your knot plugging him up, a baby slowly starting to grow inside his womb as he dozes off to sweet, sweet dreams.
“shit,” you growled, stiff grip pressing bruises onto flawless skin while you plowed into his soppy cave, making him keen at the rough treatment. all of this was making you dizzy with desire. you couldn’t wait to see his pretty tummy grow round with the baby you put in him. “wanna knock you up so bad, baby,” you whined into his ear, “you have no idea. gonna make you mine, ruin you for anyone else…”
satoru sobbed out a moan, the sheer intensity of your words making his hole drool with want and anticipation, gummy walls squeezing around you with an obscene squelch. all he could feel was himself getting wetter and wetter, wetter and wetter… drenching the mattress with how much slick he was producing, the viscous substance practically pouring out of his birthing cavern like a waterslide.
he had never been so fucking aroused in his life. the idea of his body slowly growing plump and heavy with your child, all fat and waddling around in his pregnancy, hands poised underneath his huge stomach to support it…
you probably wouldn’t let him walk around much after pumping a baby into him, would you? you would probably strap him to the bed, keeping him pregnant and barefoot on your cock for the rest of the days to come. the strongest sorcerer in the world, reduced to nothing but a cumdump and a child-bearer.
fuck, he was going to cum so hard.
“gonna cum soon, baby,” you panted. “gonna cum in your pretty womb and you’ll take it, ‘kay?”
satoru shuddered, crying out as he felt you grow bigger, your knot thickening at the base, making his rim stretch impossibly wider. “p-please. want it inside,” he weeped, desperate tears dribbling down his rosy cheeks in salty globs, to which you lapped up eagerly. “want your baby so much…”
you gripped onto his hips harder, pressing them securely into the cushiony mattress while you pounded into the cramped space in his sloppy hole, making him yell out a filthy scream of your name, jackknifing off the bed and cumming all over his filled tummy in several, messy spurts.
“yeah. and ‘m gonna do exactly that, princess,” you panted, sloppily kissing his neck while continuing to plow at his taut, tumid hole, still greedily fluttering around you despite the mind-blowing orgasm, wanting to be bred. “gonna put a baby- in you. get this tummy nice n’ round for -me, yeah?”
“please,” satoru sobbed brokenly. he swore he couldn’t take it anymore if you didn’t cum inside him in the next minute. he was going to lose his fucking mind. “get me pregnant already!”
at his warbled consent, you couldn’t hold back a primal snarl of ‘omega’ into his ear before sending a harsh, well-aimed thrust against his tumefied sweet spot, the beefy tip crushing itself against the throbbing, overstimulated gland, causing a loud wail to ring from your pretty mate. with a loud, guttural grunt, you forced your knot deeper inside his puffy rim, seizing and trembling before filling him up with thick ropes of warm cum.
satoru gawped at you with watery eyes, keening and trembling with exhaustion as your knot settled deep and safely into his womb, stuffing him full of baby batter. you really had went and knocked him up now… and from the way you kept on crooning, greedy hands kneading his now swollen stomach with a terrible insistence, you definitely weren’t planning on stopping after one.
FUSHIGURO TOJI
“you wanna what,” toji snarled, breath coming out in soft, frisky puffs as you carefully folded the omega in his favourite position—the full nelson. “‘m not in the mood for your ngh, fuckin’ jokes.”
“i’m not playing with you,” you grit out, panting harshly into the valley of his neck and shoulder, licking a hot stripe from his dewy scent gland to the sensitive back of his ear, earning you a shiver. you mustered a low grunt as your cock slotted into his tight hole with a sloppy shlick, his walls instinctively closing in on you, keeping you safely tucked inside. “i want another baby, toji. wanna, heh, get you pregnant.”
“y’er actually serious.” toji gave a nonchalant wriggle, getting you to loosen your grip on him, before sharply rolling his hips down to fully settle onto your lap—the sticky back of his rear now flattened against your straining quads, groaning as your thick cock slid in deeper into his soaked cavern. “fuuck. that’s more like it. fuck the stomach—think i can feel your dumb cock all the way in my throat.”
the both of you panted wordlessly as you let his puffy rim get used to the heavy stretch, pleasured hums slipping from him as you smothered his neck and shoulders with red and purple love bites, tenderly licking over the teethmarks you had put on the side of his neck the first time you had consummated.
“y’said you want another baby? get me pregnant? that it, stupid alpha?” toji muttered, giving you an impassive side-glance, but you knew he was excited from the idea with how much slick was leaking, no, pouring out from around your shaft, drenching your cock with his arousal. “bet you just like, ah- the thought of seein’ me all round and useless. bein’ an absolute slut for your,” he bit back a whine as you thrusted up into his sopping hole, “c-cock. ah, your big, fuckin’ cock… good for nothin’ but gettin’ me pregnant. hah.”
a lewd ‘pap’ sounded as you bottomed out again, the convex tip weeping in unison with his fluttering walls, prodding him in places that sent stars swarming in his eyes. he could feel himself clench with every movement, his stretched hole growing wet and sticky at each drag of your thick girth, hot and throbbing inside him. it didn’t help that you were groaning and grunting in his ear, hips trembling every time you bucked up into his swollen, dripping hole, feverish body bounding his in such a taut, intimate position that allowed minimal movement on his half—that had his inner omega keening.
“he does more than that,” you muttered, rolling your hips up so you could rub your shaft directly against his sore stomach walls, “and you know it.” toji gave a dry sob, clinging on to his own thighs as the round bulge of your cock appeared on his abdomen, deep and sinfully thick. almost resembling a baby bump. you couldn’t help but croon at his reaction to your little trick, starting to thrust into his wet cave again. “h-he’s- definitely very good at getting you pregnant, though, heh…”
toji could feel his instincts acting up again at the way you were talking to him—making him want to fold his arms, press his chest into the mattress with his back arched like a good omega and raise his ass to the skies just so you could plunder him and put a baby inside his needy womb. fuck. he needed to get pregnant. he needed your seed inside him, filling him up to the brim of leaking, your bulbous knot securing the entrance of his slutty little hole, preventing anything from dripping out… and making sure he’d conceive.
“fuck me,” he growled, “as many times as it’ll take. fuck a baby into me. a-another one. i want a fucking litter, you hear me?”
“so demanding,” you panted, despite feeling yourself grow dizzy at his obscene words. “i’ll give you as many as you can take—don’t wanna tire you out, baby. y’remember last time when you had the, ah- twins? doubt we can fit more than- hn, three, though, in that little hole of yours.”
“it’s not little if even your stupidly big cock can fit inside,” he scoffed. “i said i want a litter. now shut up and fuck me ‘till you give me one.”
biting back instinctual dislike of this being not the traditional mounting position to mate and breed—it was your omega’s favourite after all, so it’d do—you continued to plow at his soppy hole, each filthy push and pull with the only intent of fulfilling your role as his sire. pumping a baby, a pup, into his sweet womb, making his tummy grow big and round with the product of your hard work. it was amazing, really, how all of this could occur from one spurt of hot cum deep into your beautiful mate.
you could feel toji’s body shuddering with pleasure, sharp claws sinking into your forearms and whichever part of you he could physically reach, small mewls punched out of him with every thrust. but that wouldn’t do. not while you were making love to him. you wanted to make him cry. make him scream, preferably, eyes crossing and back arching as he sobbed out his pleasure to the world.
adjusting the angle of your hips, you tightened your grappling hold on him before grinding up, a smirk cutting across your face as you heard him choke on a moan, legs quivering where they hung on the crook of your elbows, evidently overstimulated. he wasn’t going anywhere, now. not until you bred him properly like he had asked. this was your duty as mate.
“too much,” he gasped, “too fuckin’ much, slow down—”
“keep up, baby. you asked for this,” you hummed, nipping at his shoulder as he squirmed on your cock, rim flittering tirelessly around the bulk of your cock. “just let me do my job, yeah?”
“fuck—you.”
“in case you didn’t notice, i’m currently trying very hard.”
toji whimpered helplessly, tight walls squeezing the life out of your cock, as though he were trying to milk every last bit out of you. you could feel yourself dripping inside him with every heavy slosh—every push and pull of your shaft against his cramped hole, pre-cum mingling with his slick, creating one big, wet mess inside him that would soon grow into a tiny bundle of joy.
“gonna look sooo fucking pretty with my baby in you, toji,” you cooed into his ear, rewarding you with a feeble shiver and an answering whine. you bucked your hips, pushing deeper and deeper before allowing your knot to slowly take form, stretching him across the entrance with the heavy, swollen end of it. “like always. or maybe it’s gonna be twins this time. triplets. fuck, baby. you’re gonna look so beautiful.”
he sobbed out as thick, warm cum began to flood him, making him clamp around you intuitively to keep everything inside—the unexpected pleasure buzzing through you sharply and making you grunt and jerk, another hot spurt of cum into his pretty womb.
“if we don’t get triplets, we’re trying again,” toji mumbled, gaze hazy, almost cumdrunk, stomach flexing in anticipation as you poured the last of your seed into him with a soft sigh of agreement.
RYŌMEN SUKUNA
“put your fuckin’ spawn in me?” the curse scoffed, craning his neck to glare at you with his bottom left eye. “‘s about damn time you asked.”
you had him on all fours (sixes), back arched and hips raised like a proper omega presenting in heat, panting and shivering as you bent over his body with your lumbering own. you could feel the drool building up in your mouth from the mere anticipation of impregnating your mate, filling him to the brim with your eggs and cum, breeding little beasts into his eager, fertile womb.
you leaned down to nuzzle his neck in affirmation, clumsily canting your hips backwards before pushing them until they rested flush against his plush ass, choking a needy whine out of him. his walls squeezed around you in retaliation, still needing to adjust to the all-too-big intrusion despite having done this hundreds of times, the heaviness of your cock resting against inside him almost a familiar comfort.
“this better- not be just your rut talking,” sukuna muttered, a low growl reverbrating at the back of his throat, quietening after you let out a soothing croon of your own, tenderly licking over his mating bite. “i’ll f-fucking flay you alive if it is.”
“no,” you denied, but you think you’d let him do it anyway. you’d do anything for him. kill, slaughter, guard him with your life. you were his, heart, body and soul, and you’d slit your own throat if you left him wanting anything for a split second.
still struggling to find a rhythm with how much he was writhing and snarling underneath you, his mind unused to such open submission, with him freely exposing his back and neck to you, your claws being able to reach his stomach within a blink of an eye; and yet his body was practically vibrating with how much it yearned for the pleasure that came with yielding to you, having your big, clawed hands branding his body, the weight of your touch anchoring him to the present.
fuck. children, sukuna thought, a sob dragged out of his lips, wrecked, as the head of your cock rammed against his throbbing sweet spot. little yous, cute and fanged and savage, with your bruising grip on his hips and the feral snarl of his name into the sweaty scent gland of his neck, swollen cock working in and out of him with utmost devotion at one single directive that he had given you only moments ago—to get him pregnant.
what would they be like? would they inherit your gentleness? or the side of your angry beast? he wanted them all. wanted all that you could give him. wanted you to fill him up, make his tummy grow and grow, stuffed with your spawn and seed until he was positive he couldn’t take any more. to the edge of spilling, breaking, bursting.
sukuna let out a throaty groan at that, head thrown back as he gave a full-body shudder, his first orgasm burning through him as his cocks spurted onto the nest in enthusiasm. “fuck,” he panted, slumping down in exhaustion, a protesting whine tumbling out as you continued to move in and out of him despite the sensitive fluttering of his hole. “a-asshole, can’t you see—hnngh.”
you palmed at the fat of his ass, crooning as you heard your mate whimper, head ducked down to hide in the nest, almost shy. “it is okay,” you rumbled, forked tongue laving over his scent gland in comfort, the fragrant, oily tang of his scent making you muster out a low keen. he was so sweet, so perfect, as always. he deserved everything and more. “i will… take care of you.”
and you meant every word of it. until he was bathed in the making of your children, your spawn, you wouldn’t stop.
“sukuna,” you growled, rocking down into his waiting hole with meaning, wanting him to feel every girthy inch of you, the drag, the glide. “sukuna. sukuna.”
“yes, i fucking get it,” he bit back a snarl, turning his head to let you catch a glimpse of his teary eyes. “don’t stop. fuck. it feels so good. you feel so fucking good.”
he whined louder as you picked up your pace, nails ripping up the nest into near shreds, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care with the noises he was making, making the heat inside you grow ever hotter, making your hips move of their own accord, bucking into the warm, cosy chamber of his womb of their own accord.
you could hear with every gurgle inside his tummy, his slick intermixing with all the precome that was squirting out of your cock in frenzied arousal, making a comfy nest for your length to settle into for mere moments before sliding out again. soon, it would become home for your eggs, a soft cushion for them to rest upon until it was ready for them to hatch. all of them, inside him. you would have no one else bear them.
“sukuna,” you repeated, one clawed hand going around his torso to palm at his stomach, not quite full yet, but nonetheless bulging with your girthiness. “here, sukuna. please, please.” you pushed and kneaded at the swell of his tummy, strugging to tuck your claws away in the dizziness of heat and want clouding your instincts, but keeping them a safe distance from him and the seedbed of your spawn. “want to put them in here. make you full of me. want it so much.”
“yeah,” sukuna choked out, tears sliding down his cheeks from all four of his eyes, chest heaving with breath as you took and took from him, the curb of his hole puffy from all the stretching. he could feel you growing, still, your knot starting heavy and thick from the base, and he held back a keen of his own, wanting nothing but for you to plug him up and make him your personal breeding grounds. just you, him, and whatever you would give him tonight and in the coming weeks of your rut, whether it be a nestful of eggs, or stomachfuls of your cum.
he would take it all, like a good omega. he would do it for you. only for you.
“breed me,” sukuna whimpered, two hands reaching back to clutch at your shoulders, your neck—any part of you that he could reach. “t-tired of seein’ an empty nest. want eggs. was waitin’ for you to fucking ask. wanted them for ages. fuck them into me.” you could feel his thighs trembling with the strain of holding his hips up for you, strength long gone, and he would have collapsed if it weren’t for you dutifully grasping them, making sure they were pressed flush against yours.
you hissed out, low, soothing croons spilling out one after one as you heard the first pained cry coming from your mate, the sweet shape of his womb distending to make space for the first egg. “it is okay,” you whispered again and again throughout, lapping messily at his neck and cheek, a primal resemblance of a kiss. “you are okay.”
sukuna allowed two of his eyes to flutter shut (the other two on alert, now that he had something to protect), two hands joining yours, resting against his now bloated stomach. relishing in the vibrations of your purrs and trills, and responding with some of his own. he could feel the shape of the egg inside him, scaled and ovoid and perfect.
if this was the aftermath of pregnancy, if this was the outcome of hours and hours of lovemaking and feral snarls of pleasure into the crook of his neck, then sukuna would sacrifice anything, anything to feel this way again. this love, this tenderness, shaped by two hands cradling his soon-to-be newborn, the heartbeat of another pressed against his throbbing own.
GETO SUGURU
suguru couldn’t believe it. you were breeding him in the fucking kitchen, of all places.
“too much,” suguru sobbed, hot tears clinging to his lashes as he glanced back at you, bent over the kitchen counter. he could hear every slosh and squelch inside his sore cunt, as though your cock were trying to whip all the baby batter stuffed inside him into shape. “puh-please. i can’t, daddy. ‘s too much.”
“nuh-uh, suguru. you can take it,” you gently reprimanded, one hand settling on his ass, squeezing the flesh lightly, making him jostle and whine. “you said you wanted a baby, right? daddy’s gonna give you a baby. now, we don’t tolerate going back on our word, do we, sweetheart?”
“no,” the omega keened, hips trembling lightly as you impaled him again and again, thick girth making his folds part and lips stretch just to accommodate you. you could feel him shivering against you, evidently overstimulated, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop, with the piece of heaven that you were currently inside. tight, warm and extremely wet, a perfect, snug fit for your cock. you couldn’t wait to spill inside hm again, another load of cum inside his soaked womb, another chance of him getting pregnant. “but it’s too good, daddy, please…”
“do you wanna stop, suguru? does it hurt?” you paused, eyebrows fixing together in concern. a whine of protest tore from his throat almost immediately, hips squirming as he tried to fuck himself back onto your cock. he shook his head rapidly, mouthing ‘please, no’ while blinking up at you tearily. “okay, okay…”
he let out a sob of relief as you started moving again, despite how he could feel his toes clenching and hips shuddering with every overstimulating thrust, his core aching and swollen. he was practically relying on your firm grasp on his waist and the leverage he had on the counter to stay standing, the strength having long left his legs. but suguru had to endure. it was for the baby, of course. it would all be worth it in the end.
“good boy, suguru. just one more, and then we’ll take a break, okay?” you murmured soothingly, your hot palm a comfort on the small of his back, steadying him and making sure he won’t fall, grounding him to the present of your lovemaking. “daddy’s gonna take good care of you, just like always.” you rolled your hips in slow circles, making sure not to go too fast, watching his slick cling onto your girth in a wet, shiny sheen of sticky cream. you groaned your pleasure as you bottomed out, feeling him clench around you in rapid flutters, small whines slipping out from your lover in tumbles.
“okay,” he mumbled. “put a baby in me, daddy.”
that sent a pleasure-addled shiver down your spine and right down your cock, pre squirting out from the head, making him croon happily as more of your warmth settled inside his womb. “little brat,” you scolded, a playful lilt to your tone, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, to which he shivered at. you couldn’t wait to get your hands on his swollen tummy once you were done with him. it was going to be round and full and perfect, pulsing with the perfect concoction of you and him.
“faster,” suguru whined, “harder. want it s-so much, daddy. give me a baby.”
you grunted in response, grip sliding onto his hips as you tugged him back onto your cock, the wet ‘pap’ of skin against skin ringing in the air, driving your length deeper into his welcoming hole with more force than before. he cried out as you sunk further into his sloppy pussy with another stroke of your shaft against his twitching, oversensitive walls, pulsating around you in rhythm.
suguru’s fingers clawed down the marble, soft whines and uneven breaths punched out of swollen lips as he struggled to hold himself up with your harsh, increasing thrusts, refusing to slump downright onto the table even as you pounded into him like you were pestle, and he was mortar.
“always biting off more than you can chew,” you huffed, palms smoothing over the thick of his hips and down to his round, plush ass, before giving it a little slap for good measure—and he whined out sharply, shuddering with arousal from the streak of pain. “you never learn, do you, baby?”
“‘s a lot,” suguru bit down on his lip, holding in the sob building at the back of his throat. the pleasure was simply too good, every strike of your bulbous head against his throbbing sweet spot setting his nerve ends on fire and flames, lust clouding his vision with how your hands were branding him as your own—your hips never once pausing in their mission to impregnate him even as he whined and sobbed and begged.
“but it’s okay. y’can do a-anything you want to me,” he mumbled, pausing to rub at his glossy eyes before peering at you from over his shoulder. “‘s long as you make me pregnant, ‘kay?”
it was at that moment that you realised, suguru with baby fever was a very dangerous thing. with a low, almost primal snarl into the bruised skin of his neck, you pulled out swiftly and flipped your omega around, sitting him on the counter just as he glanced down at you with wide, stunned eyes, a petulant whine on the edge of being uttered before you silenced him with a kiss.
“daddy,” suguru whined against your lips, clumsily grabbing at your shoulders, even as you mouthed messily at him, the kiss more tongue and spit than anything, feral and a little violent with his claws now gaining purchase in raking down your back. “‘nough kissing. put it back in. want your cock in me.”
lips parting with a wet smack, you guided your cock to rut against his sopping folds, making sure he could feel it, all of it—the hot, filthy drag of your girth against his needy cunt, stroking and teasing but never entering. he gawked up at you in betrayal, whining needily and nudging his hips forward, trying to entice you to fuck him, a frown pulling at the corners of his lips when it didn’t work.
it hit him, then, just what you were waiting for.
“‘m sorry, i forgot—” he rushed over his words, arms slung onto your shoulders in a half-cage, leaning forward to kiss your cheek sweetly. “please, daddy.”
“good,” you hummed. maybe you spoiled him a little too much, but now he sat, shivering and obedient, your cock spearing his cunt in one strong thrust. in this new position you were able to reach way deeper, the tapered tip delicately kissing the opening of his cervix, making your mate sob and croon with the fullness of it all.
“now hold on tight for me, okay?” you whispered into the sweaty curve of his neck, to which he nodded pliantly to with a pout, “‘cause daddy’s not gonna stop until he puts a baby in your tummy.”
masterlist!
Gojo’s emo twin @justeverymemory - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
