kiss me at midnight — haikyuu, miya atsumu x f!reader, established relationship, reader is called "babe" and "baby", fluff, suggestive, 1.2k words
Your hand is in his face before you realize it.
"Mmrph!"
It's so fucking dark.
"'Tsumu?" you whisper, squinting at the shadowy lump next to you. Your boyfriend's familiar fingers wrap around your wrist. "What is it? What's happening?"
Miya Atsumu finally frees his face from your hand. You wince at the wet saliva rapidly drying on your fingers. "Babe," he huffs, "didja hafta shove me?"
"You're the one who did something weird," you shoot back quietly, though your half-asleep brain can't quite remember what that thing was. "Did you… lick my hand?"
"Do ya want me to?" Atsumu asks curiously, his large hand sliding up to your fingers. He drops your hand immediately, and even in the dim moonlight filtering into the bedroom you can see him make a face. "Eugh, why's your hand wet?"
Oh, god. Fondness blooms in your chest even as you blink yourself more awake.
You laugh. You can't help it. "You licked it! Why are you acting all surprised?"
"Oh," Atsumu props himself up on an elbow and flicks on his bedside lamp. You squint at the sudden light, shivering against the cool rush of air beneath the blankets as he shifts. "That's 'cause ya put your hand on my face! Jeez, babe, I know ya like touchin' me, but watch the goods."
"I hate you," you laugh. Atsumu grins down fondly at you, backlit by his lamp. Golden strands drift up in a messy tangle, his bed head somehow terrible even though you've only been asleep for — "'Tsumu, why are we awake right now? It's not even midnight!"
His grin grows sheepish. "It's New Year's Eve."
"So? We should be asleep!"
Your boyfriend's half lidded gaze sweeps over your form — you're wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of shorts, nothing fancy, so there's no reason for him to be looking at you like that. He licks his lips. "Don't you wanna… ring in the new year?"
"No," you say, rolling your eyes. "What, are you planning on jacking off for the next —" you squint at the clock, "— forty minutes? I think your dick might get hand burn or something."
"Well, I was hopin' it'd be in somewhere wetter than my hand," Atsumu mumbles, flopping back into his pillow with a thump. He pulls the blankets back up over your shoulders and grins when you relent and snuggle close.
He's so warm and solid and he smells like your citrus body wash, which he swears he never touches except your bottle always ends up emptying way too fast. You slip your hand up beneath his shirt and smooth along the muscles of his back, smiling to yourself as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.
"I thought you didn't care about new years," you mumble into his neck. "You were whining about your beauty sleep during dinner."
"I wasn't whining," Atsumu splutters. You snicker into his skin and then you kiss him, a featherlight brush against the pulse fluttering in his neck. His grip tightens on your hip. "I was bein' considerate! You had a long day at work, right? I thought ya might wanna have a quiet night. I was givin' you an out."
"What part of waking me up before midnight counts as 'considerate'?" you ask curiously.
"Well, if I made ya cum a few times, you'd be more relaxed and we can both rest easy," Atsumu says.
"And you didn't think of this before we fell asleep earlier?"
Atsumu sneaks his hand down and pinches your butt, grinning into your hair when you yelp and swat at him reflexively. "Sorry, nope," he says. You can feel him half hard against your thigh. "But I can make it up to you."
"I'm sure you could," you breathe, leaning up to kiss the smile off his face. "Is this why you offered to let us get 'beauty sleep' instead of meeting our friends at the shrine tonight?"
"Swear I wanted to let you rest," Atsumu murmurs between kisses. He licks into your mouth with a hum, catching your bottom lip between his teeth as he groans. "My girlfriend's just way too hot. Have you seen her smile? Makes me get butterflies."
"Flirt," you pull back with a grin. He brushes your hair away from your face as you yawn, jaw cracking with the force of it. "Sorry. That wasn't very sexy of me."
Atsumu laughs and kisses the tip of your nose. "You'll always be sexy to me. Want me to turn off the light?"
"Don't you like being able to see me when we fuck?"
Your boyfriend gasps. "Language!"
"Shut up," you laugh. "You're the one with the filthy mouth."
Atsumu just grins, lopsided and soft. He presses a kiss to your forehead. "You really are tired, aren'tcha? Let's go back to sleep. Sorry I woke ya up."
You open your mouth to protest — you can feel him hard against your thigh, and your insides are warm enough to generate some sparks if he just keeps kissing you — but a yawn interrupts you before you can get any words out. Atsumu snorts and reaches behind him to slap the lamp off.
"Sorry, 'Tsumu," you mumble. He tugs you into him, rolling onto his back so that you can rest your head on his chest, tucked into his side. "I can wake you up with a blowjob or something."
"Don't worry 'bout it, baby," Atsumu says quietly. His arm is heavy around your waist, and you feel his other hand shuffling beneath the blankets before he finds one of yours and clasps it above his heart. "I just wanna wake up next to you."
"Is that your only new year's resolution?" you ask sleepily. His heart beats a rhythm you feel in your bones, deep and sure. An anchor to keep you from drifting away.
Atsumu hums. "I wanna win Setter of the Year," he says. "And I wanna get Omi-Omi to give me a high five during a match."
"You should be more realistic. Kiyoomi-kun might spike a ball to the back of your head if you're not careful," you say. "You're definitely getting Setter of the Year, though. You're amazing."
Atsumu chuckles and squeezes your hand. "What about you, babe? Any resolutions?"
"I guess I want to drink more water," you muse, "or else Suna will keep sending me hydration memes."
"I can help ya with that," Atsumu says. Your voices are both low, creeping towards sleep. "Anything else?"
"Mm… not that I can think of. Do you have more?"
It's quiet for a bit. You think maybe he's fallen asleep, with the way his breathing is so even, but he squeezes your hand and his heartbeat thunks in his chest.
"I wanna keep wakin' up next to you," Atsumu says. "For the rest of our lives."
You stop breathing.
"I didn't get you a ring yet," he mumbles. "'Samu said I'd pick something stupid."
"Atsumu…"
He squeezes your hand again. "Think I'll make that one come true, too?"
You shift and he's loose, lets you move to prop yourself above him, keeps his hand carefully at your side in case you need help balancing. "Atsumu," you whisper.
"Is it time to kiss for midnight?"
His eyes are glimmering in the moonlight, deep warm pools you could sink into forever.
"Yeah," you say, barely glancing at the clock. "Yeah, I think you've got that one in the bag."
Gojo's "You cryin'?" but instead he's pounding into you from behind and it's constant and relentless and you're so over sensitive and full that you're shaking and the only noises you can make are blubbery squeaks because... yeah yeah you are
gojo? gojo.. is the type of man to get so.. engrossed in the feeling of your cunt wrapped so snuggly around his thick cock— so drunk and stupid on your pussy.. that he proposes. he proposes to you in the midst of rutting into you, seconds before he spills his load into your cunt.
he’s really into it too.. saying things like: “god, i’m gonna fucking— marry you.” or “shut up.. shut up, please.. and marry me.” through his teeth. gojo doesn’t really know what he’s saying either but they are his subconscious thoughts he’s been harboring over time. its just? he’d rather not want to commit with every he has going on with him at the moment.
so he fucks you like he’s your husband, & you’re his wife.
☰ SYNOPSIS ⋮ geto suguru x reader — 1.1k words — the prettiest boy fucking the prettiest girl <3
— contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, handjobs, praise, cock worship ?? (LMAO he has a pretty dick okay ???), needy + lovesick geto :(, unprotected sex, creampie, use of pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess)
— notes ⋮ based on brainrot from that nsfw geto figure 😵💫 it’s infesting my brain his pp is so pretty <3
“like what you see, baby?” geto chuckles, stroking his thick cock slowly as he watches your eyes fix on the girth between his legs, raking them over him slowly. he’s pretty—long and flushed with a pink tip, thick veins running along the underside that make you ache to feel them drag along your walls. he’s big too, makes you whine as you cling to his neck and buck your hips up, trying to feel just the slightest friction of his fat tip rubbing along your dripping cunt.
“suguru, wan’ you,” you sniffle, lips curled into that soft little pout of yours—it’s a dangerous pout, he thinks, it gets you whatever you want with a bat of those lashes and the tilt of your head. he closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply as you snake one hand between your bodies and grip at his length, squeezing around his cock. it’s hot and heavy in your hands, slick with his pre cum, the wet, squelching noise of your fist dragging over him in slow strokes filling the room along with his soft pants. “want you so bad,” you whine, “need you, please.”
“asked a question,” he grunts, rolling his hips into shallow thrusts against your hand, “gotta answer me before i fuck you, baby,” he breathes. you roll your thumb over his cockhead, feeling the satin skin of his tip and collecting the wet bead of his pre cum before smearing it along his length as you quicken your pace. he groans, arms shaky as they hold him up to hover over you. “you like what you see, huh sweetheart? want me to fuck you with this cock?”
“yes, yes—please,” you whine, “‘s pretty, so, so pretty,” you pout, squeezing around the base of his dick. he chuckles, breathy and low against your ear, just a tad bit too smug for his own good even as a soft blush dusts across his cheeks.
“think it’s pretty, huh? prettiest cock you ever seen?”
“mhm,” you moan with a nod as he slides his tip up and down along your entrance, collecting your slick along his cock before slowly pushing past your wet folds, groaning as he feels your walls tighten around him.
“f-fuck, feel so good, princess. so tight,” he grunts, pressing a kiss between your brows as you whimper at the intrusion, your arms wrapping around his neck as your legs hike around his waist. he grins, watches as your eyes flutter shut and your mouth hangs open with a soft moan. “prettiest fuckin’ pussy, just for me, yeah? love you, love you so much, sweetheart—sh-shit.”
“‘s for you,” you nod vigorously, bucking your hips up and silently pleading for him to move. he gifts you with a slow thrust, hitting deep into you, the swollen head of his cock brushing against your sweet spot like a soft kiss, “‘s all for you, sugu—o-only you, jus’ you,” you babble, “love you too.”
geto chuckles, feels pride and affection swell in his chest at the way you’re already so lost on his cock, already so eager to please. he pulls you into a heated kiss, tongue exploring your mouth as he drinks in your moans, hips slowly rolling against yours and bullying his girth in and out of your pussy. he’s thick, splits you open as he drags along your slick walls, makes your head spin at the sweet friction from his veins as he quickens his pace.
“all for me, yeah? this pussy’s all for me? she’s all mine, isn’t she?” he groans, his navel bumping over your clit with each snap of his hips, the wet sound of his cock slipping in and out of your cunt and the slap of his skin against yours mixing with the soft whines that bubble from your throat.
it’s a symphony of he’s ever heard one—the falsetto of each high pitched squeal you let out raising goosebumps along his skin.
“all yours,” you squeal, “fuck, suguru—f-faster, need more,” you plead, bucking your hips up to match the rhythm of his, panting harshly as you feel the aching pleasure build steadily, spreading from between your legs, all the way up and along your spine until your can practically feel it in your finger tips—in your toes as they curl with each slam of his cock into your cunt.
“yeah? need more? you can have more, baby,” he hums, “‘s your cock, yeah? all yours, you can have all you want.” you squeeze around him at that—he chokes on a groan at the way you clamp down on him, all but making it damn near impossible to move with the tight grip your walls have around his length.
“mine, mine, mine,” you chant, head thrown back against the pillow, high pitched moans piercing the room as his tip slams along the sensitive spot in your walls, each roll of his hips precisely hitting you right where you need him.
“yours,” he growls, “fuck, baby. take this cock so well—feel that? feel that, baby? ‘s made for you. fits this pussy like it was made for you.”
and then his thumb finds your clit, rubbing harsh circles along the sensitive bud until you break—thighs trembling as your legs squeeze around his hips while you cum, walls fluttering around his length with tight spams. your lips part with a silent sob, tears glistening your cheeks as they run down the soft flesh. your nails dig into his back, the slam of his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm bordering on too much as you whimper in his arms.
“su-suguru, fuck, fuck, ‘s so good—feels so good, oh—”
the sound of your voice, the way you suck him in as you cream around his cock, the way you look so ethereal—so perfect and pliant for him as you lay beneath him spurs on his own release, making his head fall to the crook of your neck as his hips rut into you sloppily by now. he pants into your skin, choking on moans as he pumps his seed into your cunt.
“baby, fuck,” he calls brokenly, voice cracking as it lilts into a soft, needy little whine as he trembles over your figure with each rope of cum, cock twitching in you as he rides out his high. you feel a mixture of his release and your slick trailing down the sides of your thighs—and it’s so messy, but you can’t help but crave more. your hand trembles as it finds his hair, stroking through the sweaty locks as he finishes, his body slumping on top of yours.
“pretty,” you murmur, turning your head to press a gentle kiss into his temple, “so pretty, suguru. my pretty boy.”
“yeah?” he grins tiredly against your neck, “gotta be careful what you say there, baby,” he mumbles—and almost instantly, his cock twitches in your pussy as it hardens once more.
kiyoomi misses you so much. his chest aches desperately without the company of you; without the warmth of your hands on his skin, your head buried in the crook of his neck, his lips planting gentle kisses on the very top of your shoulder, and without your voice filling his ears like the morning sun peaking in through the curtains. he wishes you didn’t have to leave him for six days: six entire days of isolation spent without you.
warnings: praise, established relationship, brief allusions to face sitting, mutual tit sucking, fairly vanilla, tw: happy couple that’s super in love,
genre: smut, porn with minimal plot, lots of fluff
1837 words
you and satoru are on your bed and before you know it your tits are in each other’s mouths.
a/n: i’ve been working on this for over 5 months, enjoy :)
the two of you sat on your shared bed; a soft woven blanket draped over your lower halves, satoru’s head nestled in your lap, his face turned to the side, and gaze focused on the movie playing in front of you.
your fingers were mindlessly running running through satoru’s soft, snow white locks as he purred in blissful gratitude. if you ever paused your movements, satoru would whine until you pet his head again.
it was truly endearing— how your six foot four boyfriend made himself so small, curled up on your lap, and whining like a kitten when your attention focused on anything other than him.
satoru didn’t think heaven was attainable—it was just another unreachable place stuck between the borders of infinity. but, lying here with you as you scratched his scalp and met his gaze every so often with nothing but adoration in your eyes, he thinks he’s reached heaven.
satoru turns around, away from the movie playing in front of you, and repositions himself on your lap so that his face is in front of your torso. he nuzzles his face into your clothed stomach while humming in contentment. then, satoru’s hand reaches up to cup at your breast through your shirt in a oddly casual, domestic way.
your attention focuses away from the movie and instead on your boyfriend’s sudden, arbitrary actions. your brows furrow in confusion; what is he doing? your thoughts are abruptly cut short when satoru thumbs softly at your nipples through your shirt. a pleased, breathy laugh escapes his lips after he finds that you have forgone wearing a bra.
he circles and gently pulls at your clothed nipples until they’re sensitive and your eyes are fluttering shut as you sit above him. your brows are pinched ever so slightly and satoru’s chest swells when he looks at you, smiling at how cute you look. “satoru?”, you question. you’re surprised by the slight breathlessness in your voice already, but that was just the effect that gojo satoru had on you.
he ignores you, bunching up the cotton material of your shirt just enough to reveal your bare stomach. you inhale sharply when the cool air hits your skin.
your boyfriend takes several moments to admire the expanse of your skin, the curve of your hips, the freckles he’s mapped like constellations countless times, and the soft pudge of your tummy. satoru then presses a feather light kiss to your stomach and in response your insides flutter. he pulls away and looks up at you through long, white lashes. he smiles softly, the sapphire irises of his eyes containing a thousand words that are needless to say out loud.
he presses another kiss. then another. then another. then he bites; he bites the skin of your stomach like you were just another sweet treat he was ready to devour. little did you know you were. you wince above him at the sharpness of his canines digging into the sensitive parts of you.
“lift up your shirt.” satoru deadpans.
you comply instantly, pushing your shirt up to sit just below your collarbones and allowing your breasts to spill out. your cheeks flush with tremendous warmth at your sudden exposure compared to satoru’s lack of it.
your boyfriend briefly admires your breasts with wide eyes and a loving smile until indisputable, carnal desire consumes his senses. satoru’s eager hands come up to cup at your tits and knead the soft skin. he hums at the way that the flesh spills into his hands, a feeling he’s grown accustomed to but will never become tired of. you flinch under his grasp, whining at the feeling of his big hands pawing at you. you found that everywhere that his hands touched left your skin scalding.
“pretty,” he mutters. satoru leans up, his body still draped over your lap, and presses a quick kiss between your breasts before latching his mouth onto your nipple. his eyes flutter shut and tranquillity settles over his features, humming at the taste of you on his tongue and the farmiliar feeling of your tits in his mouth. he languidly swirls his tongue around it, gently licking and suckling until you’re spit slicked, sensitive, and squirming above him.
satoru coaxes you into a state of delirium in which you’re left helpless: heaving and whining as goosebumps prickle your skin, your nipples become sensitive, and shocks of heat surge through you and make home in between your legs.
“o-oh fuck”, you mewl, stomach churning thick like honey and cunt growing damp. tremors run through your body as you begin to curl in on yourself in ecstasy.
his lips are soft, plump, and decorated with a sheen of strawberry chapstick; whenever he wraps them around you, you can’t help but whine at the way they cushion against you.
“satoru,” you keen, body trembling at the fleeting touches, versant hands, and the way satoru’s lips feel soft like an angels cheek. your eyes flicker over him and in a stroke of serendipity notice the tightness of his white shirt and the way his nipples pebble and poke through the cotton. suddenly, you feel hot all over at the thought of satoru’s tits. lust consumes you like a flood comsumes the the streets of earth at the thought of his pressing kisses and sucking bruises into his flushed chest.
“can i uh- lift up your shirt?” you whisper shyly.
satoru hums, pulling away from your tits— a string of saliva connecting them to his mouth. he nods, ears twinged pink as the corner of his lips upturn.
you scrunch up his shirt so it sits on his collarbone. your body feels all too warm now that the delicate, unmarked canvas of his skin is exposed. you sigh as you admire the hard muscle of his stomach, the ridges of his abs, the softness of his skin, and the bulk of his chest. you’ve seen his tits all too many times before but never really studied them until now. they’re so pretty. you think.
his nipples are a soft shade of pink, puffy from his arousal. they’re a beautiful contrast to his milky skin. your hands move to tentatively rest on the curve of his back, urging him forward so that you’re eye level with his tits.
embarrassment settles in and takes form in your warm cheeks and shaky hands. this is embarrassing; you’ve never asked him for something like this. you’ve never done this.
your eyes flicker to satoru’s and you find yourself lost in turquoise pools of andromeda. all coherent thoughts and anxieties melt away at the loving way he looks at you, eager eyes full of adoration.
“you’re so pretty ‘toru.” you sigh, leaning forward to kiss his sternum. your lips graze the very bottom of his chest, teeth scraping over the skin as satoru gasps above you. you plant kiss after kiss over the expanse of his chest before making your way over to his tits.
you part your lips, tongue peeking out to timidly lick at one of satoru’s nipples before sucking it softly into your mouth. “o-oh,” satoru stutters. you repeat the action: gently swirling your tongue around the soft, pink bud before encasing the plush of your lips around it. your other hand comes to softly scratch your nails up and down his abdomen, tracing the hard dips of muscle as you continue to suckle on his chest.
satoru has always been sensitive: his neck, his chest, to the dip of his spine, his cock, his thighs, just below his ears, and presumably in any other places you have yet to discover. the thought of seeing if he can cum just from having his tits sucked briefly crosses your mind; that’s something for another time.
you trail your unoccupied hand up hand to grope at his chest, kneading the silky flesh, and satoru makes the prettiest sound above you. “you’re so sensitive,” you giggle. you gently take his other nipple in between your fingers and pinch and pull at it until he’s is whining above you.
“f-fuck, oh fuck,” satoru moans. you peer at him through your lashes, feeling something swirl in the very bottom of your stomach as your cunt grows sticky. you drink in the rosy flush dusting his cheeks and the tops of his ears, the soft slant of his nose, the welcoming curve of his lips, the aquamarine crystals of his eyes as they roll back, the fluttering of his lashes, the soft tufts of his hair, and his parted lips as the gasp and tremble.
a soft whine escapes your lips at the sight of your boyfriend quivering above you; the subtle vibrations against satoru’s skin making his hips buck carelessly, his cock weeping in the unforgiving confinement of his shorts. he’s so hard.
there is a gluttonous ache inside of him churning slowly in the pit of his stomach. perhaps it’s the way your breasts press together—soft and supple—as you lean over him. perhaps it’s knowing the sounds he could pull from you if his mouth was on your chest right now.
“fuck, please”
he doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, he doesn’t even recognize the desperation in his voice. his skin feels too hot. you’re making him feel so good; mindless whines are tumbling out of his mouth without being of his own accord as you kiss at his nipples and he gets lost in his own thoughts. his mouth, desperate and greedy, longs to feel your skin, to retrace the lines he knows so well, and to make you feel good.
“sweetheart,“ he whines, “gotta make you feel good too.” your chest flutters with warmth and you feel yourself whimper against his skin. “c’mere,” he places his hands on the dips of your hips, urging you forward just a bit more so that your breasts spill directly in front of his face. “there she is.” he sighs, wrapping his lips around the soft bud of your nipple.
satoru kisses and sucks on your breasts as you continue to do the same to his, the both of you exchanging a chorus of hushed whimpers, noises reserved solely for the two of you.
“satoru, it’s ‘s good.”
“i know baby, i know.” he whispers.
you sit like that for a while, mouths occupied, nipples tender and swollen, whining, skin flushed, the air thick and heavy, and hands progressively growing greedier. your hand was stroking satoru’s cock through his sweats as he mindlessly bucked into your hand. his hand was cupping your cunt through your shorts, petting at the warmth as you pressed yourself into him.
satoru is the first to pull away, panting from his uninterrupted assault on your breasts. “okay sit on my face right now before i die,”
you flush, “okay.”
he leans up and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “then i’m fucking you stupid.”
In his defense— Satoru Gojo is not even aware that he is being your bully. He's so big that he doesn't notice the way his body stumbles against yours through the hallways, the way his side crashes into your figure as he crosses by you, both hands on his stomach and a chuckle that makes his eyes disappear has become as natural as you're going to repeat the year because you don't perform well in physical prowess.
tags. reader with female anatomy (she/her pronouns), size difference, mean gojo, all characters are adults, size kink, humiliation/humiliation kink, use of 'senpai', choking, enemies to ?, praise kink, gojo refers to the reader as his pet, lowkey masochist reader, use of pet names (angel). wc: 4.8K
˒ ਏਓ — notes. I missed writing for Gojo so much and I like (love) mean characters so much that it was necessary to create this fic, and even though it was in my drafts for a long time, it's time for it to see the light of day. Enjoy! <3
In his defense— Satoru Gojo isn't even aware that he's being your bully.
He's so big and beefy (compared to you and every other student) that he doesn't notice the way his body stumbles against yours through the halls, the way his side crashes into your figure as he crosses by you, both hands on his stomach and a chuckle that makes his eyes disappear has become as natural as you're going to repeat the year because you don't perform well in physical prowess.
Satoru doesn't realize how annoying he is and that fact gets under your skin until it makes your jaw tighten and your teeth grind.
The way his naive: "It's because I'm the strongest." "Maybe if you hung out more with me and Suguru you'd be smarter..." Create a volcano of fiery lava between your temples. Plus a, "Sorry I didn't see you down there." After his foot has just crushed yours is the final straw that ends up overflowing your cup.
Like a gigantic avalanche that rolls and rolls until it gets bigger and destroys everything in its path he is unaware of his own weight, let alone the meaning of personal space when he comes up behind you and curves his body until his jaw touches the line of your neck to look over your shoulder and check what you are doing on your phone..., you feel his intertwined hands brush against your back and his coffee breath brush warmly against your cheek— what are you doing?
Ironic. Because at this point you know perfectly well that he has read all the martial arts research the internet has thrown up for you.
Satoru is oblivious to the weight he drops on you when you're in the courtyard hand-to-hand combat after insisting over and over again how willing he was to practice with you and thus help you improve, claiming it was unfair to let one of his teammates fail while the strongest was there, in the flesh.
Long fingers hook your hands above your head, his wet chest crushes yours and he squeezes over your uniform until your betraying nipples harden.
His sprawling legs cage yours turning you without a drop of sorcery or need for any spell a sweaty, panting mess, with grass in your hair and your skirt above your thighs.
Satoru looks down on you almighty from above. His white fangs protrude through that lopsided grin and the sunglasses he's wearing threaten to hit your face at any moment. A couple of tousled locks land on his forehead and with a great inspiration he finishes sinking your wobbly figure on the grass.
Seeking to somehow turn the situation around and distract him, you work your jaw back and forth collecting all the saliva you can to make the futile effort to spit at him. The sticky trail doesn't even touch his face, instead it falls mockingly over your own mouth and part of your nose causing the heat in your abdomen to spread from your cheeks to ears.
Satoru laughs, his chest vibrates against yours and the way his body jerks hilariously makes your figure squirm and writhe on the grass.
With one hand he manages to hold your wrists to free one of his arms and with the help of his thumb he squeezes the goop of saliva across the full width of your lips increasing your humiliation.
You hate him. God how you hated him.
"Pathetic." He cooed, dropping even more on top of you, getting you to moan. "Are you ready to give up?"
Your ribs squeak and your voice cracks. "No... asshole." That, for some reason makes his smile widen and the heavy drops in your eyes threaten to overflow.
You're going to spit at him again when you're in front of him, when he can't knock you back down so fast.
"So you want to spend the whole night like this?" Though he's not smiling now, you can clearly see a sneer in his words, helping himself with your saliva he uses his index finger to draw a heart on your cheek. "Because I don't plan to move until you admit it.
You snort an annoying white lock brushing against your nose. "You won, what else do you want to hear?"
"I want to hear you say it."
Your fingernails dig into your hands. "What?"
"You're the best Gojo-senpai, thanks for the lesson today." "And it's lame the way you're stirring under me, an enemy would have killed you by now. Hold still."
It wasn't your fault! It wasn't your fault any of this! Your jaw tenses and you run away from those intense eyes that can see everything over those hideous sunglasses that probably cost more than your entire closet, you run away for a second before he notices something is going on.
The cool breeze flutters up your skirt and for a second your underwear is exposed to the empty bench that would be filled with the few students but for the fact that no one is training at this hour.
You stir again and your panties part your labia a little more, sinking and rubbing impertinently against your throbbing clit. You bite your cheeks to keep from moaning and Satoru squeezes your wrists as a sign that he is still dissatisfied with your silence.
You fill your lungs with resignation and with his still imprisoning grip you sigh a long, "Thank you for today's lesson."
There's another cold breeze ruffling your skirt and you come to believe that's what makes him not hear you the first time, because he's still motionless on top of you.
"You are the best Gojo-senpai, thank you for today's lesson." You force yourself to repeat the whole sentence, begging for him to finally let you go.
You see the blue of his eyes contract, pupils much larger than normal hush an unwelcome comment. Without protest he rolls to the side letting his elbows support him and gives you the space you need to fix the wrinkles in your skirt, remove the dirt stuck to your uniform and make a quick escape.
You even thank him again for the practice by bowing forward in a reverence he's never seen you do before so you run to the showers, alternating between jogging or walking very fast across the entire field until you reach the empty bathrooms.
Your back rests against the door for just a moment and your ghostly fingers check the temperature in your cheeks... you were burning up, a contrast to your frozen fingers. Then, you touch your thighs, and what you discover further fuels the flames that burned your muscles credits to the previous marathon.
You were wet dripping... for Gojo Satoru? You ignore the attention your panties give your needy clit every time you take a step in the direction of the shower and in a heartbeat you shed your soiled uniform to get under the shower. The cold stream soaks you from head to toe and you can't help but moan as you feel the millions of ice cubes bite into your muscles, palms open against the tiles and shivering from the temperature you let the water take care of erasing those sensations you shouldn't be feeling.
You pour a hand full of liquid soap and the smell of shea butter fills the cubicle. Your hands caress your sensitive breasts and you unconsciously find yourself tugging on your nipples as you allow yourself to imagine that this is Satoru. With yet another squirt of the soft scent you stroke your hips and thighs and toy with the idea of letting him finger you. Right there, under the stream of cold water, with his rough body pressing yours against the tiles while his teasing voice whispers in your ear those humiliating things that make you want to cry. You imagine his long fingers as your own pinch the hood of your clit, and squeeze a breast.
It's embarrassing, you want to slap yourself and then hide your face in a pillow and never see him again— but you can't stop, especially with the latent idea that someone might open the door at any moment and hear you not only fuck your pussy with the intensity you do but hear you pathetically call Satoru's name as you cum imagining how he'd bully you during sex as well.
Shame. You have the word tattooed on your forehead as you wriggle around Jujutsu Tech hallway wrapped in a towel. You refuse to wear the battered uniform you're carrying in your arms again, let alone put on those underwear back on. You are thankful that the sun has long since set, that the corners are dead and that all you can hear are the cicadas and your disbursed heart.
You didn't want to see him again, you don't have the courage to look at him and hide how much you want him— not. You didn't want to think about it. You refused to think about it. Tomorrow you were going to see him in the halls and let him be your bully without commenting on anything that had happened today, however fate seemed to have other plans.
Incoming call from Satoru.
"What?" you make sure the windows and doors are closed before you start unwrapping the towel.
"I can't sleep."
"Congrats, call Geto-kun or someone who cares."
"Ouch. Everyone's off for the festival, you should be thankful I stayed with you to help you train." He giggled ironically and you have to force yourself to ignore the fluttering in your tummy. "Besides it's your fault."
A silence that goes on longer than it should does settles on the line where you're frozen halfway across your room, a squirt of white lotion in one hand and heavy breathing in your ear.
"What do you mean?"
"You drained all my energy today at practice. You did a very good job." On the other end of the line, you hear the mattress groan and the image of a possibly naked Satoru stretching out pops into your mind.
You'd rather ignore that he just complimented you —even though it's a silly and simple compliment, it means a lot coming from him— and with your mind still frothing you say, "Thanks for that, by the way.” Your moistened palms create figures on your legs as you continue talking. "Maybe we can train again some other time."
You couldn't believe what you had just suggested.
Though you instantly regret it you try to ignore that heavy knot in your esophagus by throwing it back into your stomach and instead, you close your eyes and listen to him breathe.
"What was that?" Satoru asks in a raspy voice.
"I don't plan to repeat it," you reply almost defensively.
He swallows so clearly and audibly that you hear it as if his mouth is on your neck. "In the shower." Your body becomes like a piece of ice sinking into the sea.
"W-wh-" No, no, your sly tongue couldn't fail you now.
"I saw you." The mattress growls again. "I heard you."
"You were watching me while I was showering? You're a pervert, Satoru." You decide to play the innocent until proven guilty card and improvise quickly.
He lets out a laugh. "I was there because you were calling me." Oh. "The shower walls are very thin, you know? And your pretty voice makes a lovely echo. You were calling my name so loudly that I wouldn't be surprised if the principal called you tomorrow to ask if you were all right... well, are you?"
"What did you see?" you were going to throw up your heart and yet you didn't plan to agree with him.
"You."
"Hmm?"
"Pitiful, with two fingers deep inside that pussy of yours."
"You liked it?" Amid the silence of the line you hear it so clear. Distant wet, lazy sounds, as if someone was dipping their fingers in some kind of gel. "So much that you're jerking off thinking about me? So much that you have to call me to cum listening to my voice? Damn, senpai, sounds to me like the pitiful one is someone else." You click your tongue giving the final touch to your attack.
Satoru growls your name and you can imagine how his veins mark on his forehead, thick veins throbbing on the back of his hand, or on his neck, maybe even on his pretty long—
"You must have heard wrong, because I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last man on earth." You lash out again, insatiable with the power that fills you not to have him in front of you.
He snorts. "Yeah? Why don't you open the door? I want you to tell me to my face.”
"Are you out of my fucking room?" Even though you know you won't get to see anything, you look over your shoulder to check that the wooden door is still locked just as you left it. Protecting you from the outside.
"Go out and find out."
Only when the cramp starts to get stronger you are aware that you've been squeezing your phone too hard for the last minute. Your feet are cold and even though on the other side you heard nothing but heavy breathing you know he's still there, waiting for an answer, one that would change everything and even though a chill sweat was running down your forehead and your thoughts were dazed by a white noise you were sure of only one thing: you were not a coward.
You hold the phone between your ear and shoulder as you roll the towel back over your clean body. Droplets travel from your freshly washed hair down your back adding extra chills to the current situation— you hesitate for a second to turn the golden knob but there's no turning back as you see the male figure dull the hallway light, half naked. Behind the yellowish halo that forms around his head flutter a few moths that add even more to that semi-godlike touch that he himself always claims to have.
Without the need for either of you to speak he takes a step forward causing you to take two steps back and you hear him make a chuckle-like noise. The 'click' behind the closed door makes you realize that you are in a bear cage.
With his phone in his hands he finally hangs up the call, his phone ends up at the bottom of his gray pants and yours somewhere on the plush carpet covering the entire floor. You cross your arms and he shamelessly focuses on how the line of your squeezed breasts stand out. You notice his bare chest and the way his pants hang dangerously low on his hips, his body is not that of a person who spends all day working out but his muscles are worked enough to make you feel very hot and so that you can't help but glance at his chest, the moles that wash over it and at his defined shoulders.
With his hair disheveled and with the black blindfold now taking up the space of his dark glasses, he triggers something in you that should never have been born.
"What were we talking about?" There is disdain in his tone as he breaks the silence, and it is accompanied by two more long footsteps that keep you backing away.
You pretend to think and with one finger tap your lips twice in a pout. "I think we stayed on you touching yourself while you were thinking about me."
"I was just horny, I wasn't thinking about you."
"Is that why you called me?" Your voice trembles just a little, your feet had touched the edge of the bed and you knew you had nowhere else to run.
"And that's why you're running away?"
"No... I am not."
Two more short footsteps serve to bring him dangerously close to you, just enough for you to feel his body heat and the scent of his bath soap. With his palms he pushes you from your shoulders causing you to lose your balance and your body to be in a weird posture where you are half lying on the bed— he then crawls over your body. His fingers enclose your throat and you let him since he doesn't squeeze, just lets you have them around, gently pressing on your pulse.
"You're shaking."
You throw your head up just so he can feel the warm air of your mouth settle between his. "You too." You gently tug on his lip which gets him to squeeze your neck a little tighter and curse between his teeth.
"You're a pervert."
"And you love it."
Without further ado he cuts off the space to devour your mouth in a passionate kiss where there are moans to spare and an excess of saliva.
You squeeze your lips desperately on his. He squeezes his erection prominently against the damp fabric of the towel, moaning louder as he somehow manages to touch a sensitive spot on his cock.
Taking advantage of how dizzy you are for the moment you roll over him to squeeze him under your legs. The towel is left like a roll of cloth around your hips exposing your completely bare chest and hard nipples— you notice his throat rise and fall.
"Oh, you want me." You can feel him beneath you, growing with each violent throbbing of his shaft.
"Yeah."
"It wasn't even a question," you say, rotating your hips just above his sensitive cock, the hardness digging between your wet lips, a guilty stain beginning to create itself on the fabric.
"You want me too."
"Hm." You play with the elastic of his pants. "You made my year all hell, what makes you think that?"
"Because it turns you on, my mean words, that I mistreat you, that we play cat and mouse. Maybe you're a little masochist," he spits venom, cocking the head to the side.
There is some truth in his words.
You lift your body enough to release the erection that quickly hits his stomach in a soft slap. Satoru gasps pushing his hips up and throwing his head back.
You take it between a soft fist, still wet, still hard and spit right into the pink head to form the same sloshing sounds you heard when he called you.
You are spellbound by the way his massive body trembles beneath you, how his shoulders shake and his stomach contracts at every caress. Intoxicated by the power that fills you as you are on top of him and are the one in command after so long of suffering beneath his shadow. Your thumb slides along his slit and Satoru curves his back, a Don't fucking stop that he murmurs chewing his lip is precisely what makes you stop even against your will.
"Don't tell me what to do."
He raises his head to look at you and even through the blindfold you can see the expression in his eyes, "What?"
Satoru grunts, clearly a few levels more than grumpy and rises from between the sheets to remind you of his size that you had narrowly forgotten. He towers over you like a big wave and ends up knocking your body underneath him.
"Don't think you're in control, angel, I'm always, always in charge. Even when you think you are."
"Satoru..." you say his name so faintly it's barely audible, you feel his cock trembling on your lower abdomen, the sticky liquid of his precum staining your bare skin.
His big hands clasp your thighs together, squeezing your legs so tight you can't help but moan in pain. You feel the swollen tip create a gap between your thighs until it reaches your clit where it collides again and again with the nub of nerves, the shaft thrusting into the middle of your soppy pussy, fucking your thighs, feeling your pussy throb as his thrusts increase in intensity.
"Keep your legs closed," Satoru speaks, then positions your feet better on top of his chest to let his flat hands push against the mattress so he can be rougher, rawer. The bed squeals from the intensity in which he is fucking you, your legs start to burn as much as your needy pussy, your muscles that seem to be bitten from within scream for rest however you don't want to ask him to stop, you don't want to disappoint him either by letting your legs spread.
You find him staring at you, nose wrinkled and growling deeply as one corner of his mouth lifts mischievously. He knows, ohh he knows.
"It hurts." You gasp, your weak legs just a couple more pushes away from collapsing.
"Hold it in. You're a sorceress, I know you've been through worse."
You groan tiredly, your nails digging into the skin of your belly just before your legs finally give in to the pain. Satoru clicks his tongue, shaking his head clearly disappointed.
"Bad, bad girl." Then he drops to his knees, straightening his back so he can get a better view of your sensitive pussy.
“I- Satoru—”
"Sh." His soft fingers trail from your calves up your thighs, the ticklish cuntiness of his touch causing you to slam your legs together. "I guess I'll have to teach you another lesson." He opens them again, exposes you to him and slaps your thighs, you squeal in surprise. "I'll have to teach you to be a good girl."
You don't have time to feel embarrassment or shyness at his fingers invading your pussy all at once, two long digits parting your labia to show Satoru how wet you were, your arousal soaks the inside of your thighs and pools between your ass, you see him exhale through his nose and look at you very intently through the dark fabric. He leaves no place where you can hide, no matter how much you squirm, how much you want to hide your face, he seems to be able to see far beyond any barrier you want to create.
"Stop playing and fuck me," you say between long blinks, searching for bravery that had been hiding somewhere in the small of your back.
"I don't even think you deserve that." He babbles with his gaze lost between your sticky folds, you feel a finger make a hard circle over your clit and your legs tremble trying to close, he smiles sideways opening them again with ease. "Because you want me to fuck you here, yeah...?" He goes on, the same finger traveling to your hole, easily pushing through the knot of muscle until it curves inside you, you greet it with a sort of mewl. "But I don't think bad girls deserve that..." He pauses to add a second finger and your back leaves the mattress to form an arch. "Bad girls get fucked in the ass."
Your eyes open, wide, taking in the yellow light in the room that makes your pupils constrict again, your ears start to ring and your mouth seems to forget how to produce saliva properly.
"Satoru, no, no." Apparently his name was the only thing you knew how to say, like a plea, like a warning. "I never..."
"It wasn't a question." You don't have to finish the sentence because he's interrupting you, two fingers inside you massaging your g-spot and two more abusing your clit, hard, mercilessly, rushing your orgasm so fast you have to squeeze the sheets between your hands to channel the bundle of emotions you're feeling. "Maybe that's what you deserve, my big fat cock in that pretty ass of yours."
You had heard the rumors even outside Jujutsu Tech, everyone knew the rumors.
Gojo Satoru fucks like a god.
He may have been less popular with the girls than Geto Suguru, but his reputation haunts him. He had the longest cock I've ever seen, curved, thick head and pink, you even remember the giggling girl who added that it was the color of his lips– she was right. He sucks pussy like a pro, will make you cum more than three times in one night (...) and oh, I hear he loves getting oral. They were some of the chatter you had heard in the corridors, on missions, even when you commented that you studied with the great Satoru of the Gojo clan, even girls who had not been with him... they all repeated the same thing. You always thought they were all exaggerating, but there was always that curiosity to know.
Now, with your face covered in a layer of sweat and your eyes squinting as he works your pussy like an expert you can confirm that all the rumors are true. Satoru is abusing that spongy spot inside you that makes your eyes crystallize and gasp his name like you're calling a god.
"I'm going to put in a third." He warns you.
"No, no, no, no, no! I can't take it."
"Of course you can."
He's toying with your cunt, discovering what things make you feel the most pleasure, what places make you make certain faces and where he should touch to make you cum faster— bingo!
"There you go," he laughs wickedly. "This is where it feels good, yeah?" your sobs answer him, it's too much, his three fingers stretch your insides and it hurts a little at first but this discomfort is replaced with a tight sensation in your lower abdomen and ants walking up and down your legs. "Oh, look at you! Even squirting a little." Still smiling he licks his lips. "Do it, do it. Be a good girl and cum for me, c'mon, I want to see that pretty pussy turn into a puddle."
Even without his dirty words you would have climaxed just maybe not as hard as you did, you're wet and sticky all over and your pussy contracts tightly around his fingers that continue to pump in and out of you slowly. Satoru keeps talking, so distant you barely manage to catch when he tells you Good girls get rewards— open wide... just a little bit more, that's it, say 'Ahh'.
You were on all fours, taking all of his cock in your throat as you processed being back where you were, you tried to suck and not choke on the size as he thrust in and out of you using your mouth like a fuck toy, Satoru pounds hard inside you, your hands go to his thighs in search of stability and by the force of his strokes you know he's not going to last long.
He hits your throat a couple of times and grunts at your gagging reaction, he gets addicted, he catches the hair at the back of your neck and holds you steady as he hunches his back and fucks your mouth while you try not to choke, your fingers double tap his thighs and he gets the signal. Satoru pulls away from you just to let you breathe, looks down at you from above almost longingly you want to think— you stumble into the darkness of that piece of cloth and his thumb wipes away a tear that was running in the direction of your mouth.
"You gonna make cum." With his free hand he grabs his cock to smack it over your lips and unconsciously you're opening your mouth again, rolling out your tongue waiting for him to slide it back inside you. "Such an eager girl, my eager girl..." He slides with the help of your saliva inside you and then out again getting you to choke a couple of times before he decides to fuck you again at the same rough pace as before. "My good pet, you're doing such a good job for me."
The praise makes you squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassed and hot-cheeked, regretting inwardly admitting how much you love being praised by him. A couple more assaults and he ends up cumming in your mouth without warning, with a low growl that sends a shudder through his body— his cock twitches over your tongue with each spurt, you manage to swallow what you can and what little gets his way out through the corners of your mouth.
Satoru pulls out of you to cup your cheeks between his large hands, the touch makes you close your eyes giving way to the burning in your muscles and the heaviness that suddenly envelops your body. His lips cover yours and he moves naturally into your mouth testing himself and before breaking the kiss he makes sure to bite your lower lip and give you a final peck that echoes along with the cicadas penetrating the walls.
"I think you can be a very good pet, we just need to improve that attitude of yours. After all, after exorcising curses my favorite thing to do is break brats... and share them with Suguru."
more notes. Finishing this I realized I want to write a part two with gojo ft geto, please send help
Your head pops up as the unexpected voice makes itself known, twisting your face towards the sound only to see a figure standing at the end of the alley. He’s silhouetted where he stands—a shape more than a person. You can tell he’s tall, broad, and has a knot of hair tied up loosely at his crown.
Geto Suguru steps into the light where you can see him better, though it makes his sudden appearance no less surprising.
“Did you drink too much?” he asks, treading a few steps closer as he eyes you worriedly. You pull yourself up from where you’d been crouching on the ground.
“No, no. Just getting some air,” you reply with a stiff smile, dipping in a bow and quickly adjusting your pencil skirt once you’re back upright.
He has his tie loosened over his shirt with the top button undone, and his suit jacket is nowhere to be seen. He considers you for a moment, and his attention makes you want to fidget but you fight the urge.
You watch as he pulls packet of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his shirt and offers it out to you. “Do you smoke?”
“No, thank you,” you say with a quick shake of your head, smoothing your hands along the front of your skirt and then moving to step past him back towards the entrance of the restaurant. “I should go.”
He angles his body in your way before you can.
“No need to leave on my account,” he says, peering down at you. His face is partially in shadow because of how he’s standing, angled between you and the mouth of the alleyway that leads back to the busy street, caught in a small dark patch between the streetlights and the light affixed to the grungy brick wall. He tips his face up and the light touches his features once more, catching in his brown eyes as he waits in anticipation of your response.
“I should get back inside.” It’s strangely difficult to meet his gaze, so instead you look past him towards the street as an unwelcome heat surges up your throat to flood your face. A car passes quickly by the alley, and you watch as the headlights come and go in a flash.
“Why?” the man before you asks, placing the cigarette he’d fished out of the pack to his lips. He uses his teeth to keep it there while he fumbles through his pockets for a lighter. “You’re clearly having a terrible time in there.”
Your eyes snap up to meet his in shock.
“No I’m not,” your reply is notably indignant, even though his accusation is valid.
How would he know anyway?
“The smiley, nice-girl bit’s gotta be getting old, isn’t it? Pouring everyones drinks. Cleaning up everyones messes.” He laughs, though it’s only to himself, before clicking his lighter to life and holding it to the tip of his cigarette until it catches. The cherry burns red and bright on an inhale, and smoke slips from his lips as he adds, “You don’t have to lie to me, I’m not your boss.”
“I’m not lying,” you insist, but your performance isn’t particularly convincing.
Truthfully, the very last thing you wanted to do after a ten-hour work day—capping off a fifty-hour work week—was come out drinking with your colleagues. You’ve never really liked these kinds of gatherings, even if the company is the one footing the bill. They always get a bit too rowdy for your liking. Always drag on a bit too long. And you know that you’ll inevitably be the one stuck forcing your plastered boss into a taxi in the wee hours of the morning, while the rest of your equally-sloshed coworkers find their own ways home.
But the department chair, the very same one you’re sure will be singing karaoke with his tie around his forehead in only a few short hours, had been adamant that everyone in marketing attend the gathering since the sales section was joining in too.
Hence the sales employee standing toe-to-toe with you, blocking your path.
You know Geto Suguru, but only indirectly. The sales and marketing departments are separated by a single floor in your company’s office building, and often work on projects together. Geto is a section lead in sales, with a long, illustrious history behind him before he worked his way up to that role. He’s made a lot of money for the company, and a lot of friends along the way—what with his easy charm, silver tongue, and undeniable good looks. His reputation precedes him—in both good ways and bad.
The fact that he’s here talking to you—a fresh-faced, relatively new-to-role nobody in comparison to his lengthy history with the business—is what you have a hard time wrapping your head around.
“Sure, sure.” Geto waves his hand dismissively, ash fluttering off in tiny specks from the end of his lit cigarette. “I’m sure you just love making all those copies, remembering coffee orders, and running that section lead of yours’s errands too. Oh, and don’t forget when he takes credit for your ideas.”
Your stomach drops.
He keeps going.
“This upcoming brand collaboration is exciting,”—he takes a puff of his cigarette, his eyes sparkling as he looks at you—“too bad no one knows it was you who came up with it, huh?”
Your fists clench tightly at your sides, your lips pressing together in a thin line.
Geto blows the last of the smoke in his lungs from the corner of his pursed lips, away from you.
“That’s the first honest expression I’ve seen on your face all night,” he says with a sly smile tugging at his lips.
Your hands are shaking.
“Why are you doing this?” you ask him weakly.
He tilts his head to the side, like your question confounds him.
“I’m not doing anything,” he says, and he sounds like he genuinely means it. “Have I said anything that isn’t true?”
You bite your lip, staring down at your pretty, professional pumps as you stand on the craggy pavement of the alley.
“You’re allowed to be angry, but don’t direct it at me for pointing out the people who keep screwing you over,” Geto says, and the way his voice sounds a bit nearer and the smell of his cigarette gets stronger tells you that he’s dipped down closer to you even though you don’t watch him do it. “No one’s gonna hand anything to you if you don’t fight for it.”
You glance up at him, your expression and your tone equally flat. “And what if I’m not a fighter?”
“Oh, I don’t believe that,” he says, chuckling a bit as he backs away from you.
You watch him as he watches you—contemplates you, like he’s sizing you up. He drops cigarette suddenly to the ground, still only half-burned, and crushes it with the toe of his shoe. You hold your breath as he takes another step towards you.
He leans forward.
“Hit me.”
“Pardon me?” The bewildered question rushes out of you all in one gasping breath, and you take a loping step back in shock.
“Come on, just one,” the man goads you further, rapping against his jaw with the knuckle of his index finger as a smile twists his lips up at the corners.
“You’re drunk,” you spit out incredulously, shaking your head and quickly moving to step past him.
“I’m not.” He sidles smoothly into your path once more before you get the chance to flee, like he’s half-a-step ahead of you at all times.
It’s infuriating.
“Alright, then you’re just insane,” you offer instead.
You knew the sales department had a reputation for being a bit wild, but this is beyond all your expectations. This is nothing like the charming, easy going Geto that you’ve heard all your female colleague gossiping about in the break room.
His smile falls, and he crosses his arms over his chest. You try not to pay too much attention to the way his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“I’m still your senior, y’know,” he says, and his voice is a little bit colder now. More admonishing.
You’re very acutely aware of that fact without him saying it.
You huff out a frustrated little breath through your nose, crossing your own arms over your chest in a mirror of his stance.
“I’m not hitting you.”
Geto’s brow quirks curiously.
“Why not?”
You can’t believe you’re having this conversation.
“Because that’s assault,” you counter his question shortly.
“It’s only assault if I press charges—which I won’t.” You know he’s telling the truth but it doesn’t make it any more convincing. He tilts his head to the side again, and a silky strand of his dark hair slips into his eyes. “Haven’t you ever hit anyone before? It’s cathartic.”
Your lips part in an expression of astonishment. “Of course I haven’t.”
The man in front of you looks mildly surprised at your answer.
“Do I look like someone who goes around fighting people?” you ask him incredulously.
“You look like you’ve got some repressed rage in you,” he says with a smirk, and the expression only worsens when he sees the way you react to it.
He taps his cheek again before tucking both his hands behind his back and leaning in close to you, like a man offering himself up to the executioner’s block. He shuts his eyes.
“C’mon, just a little one.”
“I won’t.”
“You should.”
“I won’t.”
“How come?”
You take his face in your hands suddenly, tilting it up to meet your gaze.
“Geto-san,” you say quietly, your tone bordering on desperate. “I’m not going to hit you, so please stop asking.”
He opens his eyes slowly, his dark lashes fluttering as he blinks up at you. After a moment he smiles, and his eyes curve into narrow crescents as he leans subtly into your touch.
It’s quiet in the alley, but your heartbeat is quick underneath your skin.
“Can you blame a guy for trying?” he asks you coyly.
You’re still cupping his cheeks in your hands.
They’re warm.
“You really are crazy,” you reply softly to his question, though it’s not much of a reply at all.
He hums, turning his face so his nose drags across your wrist. His lips brush against your palm as he speaks once more. “I’ve been called worse.”
You don’t doubt he’s telling the truth.
Slowly, the dark haired man picks himself up to his usual height. He’s closer to you now than he’s ever been—and thanks to the little cat and mouse game that the two of you have been playing, you’re very nearly pressed against the alley wall. You can’t even see the street anymore beyond the expanse of his wide shoulders.
Everywhere you look, you only see him.
The realization sits hot and heavy in the pit of your stomach.
“I know you’re a good girl, but what are we gonna do about all that stuff you’ve got pent up in there?” Geto lifts his hand and presses a featherlight touch to your sternum over your diaphragm, his fingertips trailing delicately against the smooth plane where the arch of your ribs ends. Your breath hitches painfully as you stare up at him, a sticky knot at the back of your throat preventing you from forming any response—not that you can think of anything to say.
Geto smiles down at you, his expression soft.
You see the faintest flash of sharp teeth behind his pink lips.
ohhh ohhh :( college au!satoru where you do everything together like visiting cafes and museums or new food spots and you both always get couples discounts because satoru finds them online for you to use for shits n giggles. sometimes you play it up to get extra money off faking anniversaries or birthdays. you’re friends who just so happen to kiss at times. (for free food of course)
but then it’s like when people, cashiers, attendants, everyone actually ask or tell you both “you look so cute together!” you’re instantly denying it, voice high in embarrassment and eyes wide like “no we’re just friends! he doesn’t really wanna be here, i just drag him along for the ride.”
when in reality, satoru does want to be there, he wants to be with you he’s just too chicken shit and fucked up to say. because if you knew the real him you might run for the hills and leave him behind.
. . . miya atsumu. winning in carnival games and in love.
if anything, atsumu was fairly lucky when it came to carnival games.
games based on chance and pure luck are the ones he hates with every fiber of his being because miya atsumu was not that lucky when it came to winning said games. he’d rather take his chance on winning things that use strength, mobility, reflexes, and coordination. after all, those were his strengths, and in life, there’s a saying to play to your strengths.
just like what he is doing right now.
“hol’ on, ‘m goin’ to try and win that plushie. why? ‘cuz it reminds me of ya! why else?”
he had told you earlier, but what you didn’t expect was him almost clearing out the stands of their prizes because of how good he was at it. from catching magnetic sticks that dropped to test out one’s reflexes to him having to hold onto a bar for a certain amount of time, you best believe that he put those hours he spent at the gym for volleyball training to good use.
“go, tsumu!”
and really, your cheers that mirrored when he scored a point in his volleyball match fueled his determination to win.
he smiles in your direction, then looks back at the board with balloons taped onto it. atsumu takes a deep breath, then throws the darts he was given at the boards, making it look too easy to simply hit the targets. the small crowd that gathered around the booth cheered him as well, which fed your boyfriend’s ego well and would last him a week’s worth of oozing charm.
“where to next?” he asks, carrying paper bags upon paper bags filled with stuffed toys.
there were plenty more prizes that you two left by the security guards’ storage room near the entrance, which you would pick up on your way out so you wouldn’t have to carry lots of baggage.
“i think we should take it easy on winning these prizes, ‘tsumu,” you told him softly, motioning toward the bags he carried. “where are we even going to put all of these? we can keep some of them, but not all of them, y’know?”
atsumu nods, thinking to himself. as you two wandered from booth to booth, your attention turned to a child who was whispering to her mother about the plushies atsumu held. without much hesitance on your part, you dragged your boyfriend toward the child and her mother, offering to give her a stuffed animal.
“f– for me?” she asks quietly, looking at you as you crouched to level with her.
“of course! you see that prince beside me holding the paper bags? he won these plushies because he’s so strong!” you answered. “he’s glad to give these away to princesses like you.” you glanced at her dress, seeing that she wore something similar to a princess gown. “isn’t that right, ‘tsumu?”
“oh— yeah, totally,” he agreed with a slight blush on his cheeks. the gears in his head are still trying to process your compliments.
“wah, thank you!” she said to the both of you, and not too long after, she and her mother bid goodbyes.
you sighed, linking your arm with atsumu’s as you watched the little girl happily hug her stuffed animal.
“should we give the rest of those away?”
“i’m down with whatever ya want to do with ‘em,” he tells you. “i did win ‘em for you, after all ‘cuz i’m very strong, right?”
“oh, you,” you rolled your eyes at him, continuing your walk to give away a few of the prizes he had won. “wait, you have something in your hair; hold on.” you got the fallen leaf that fell on his hair, smiling. “there we go.”
atsumu blinked at you, then grinned cheekily. “yer goin’ to make this strong prince fall in love with ya even more.”
“hm, what if that’s my plan all along?” you chuckle, tugging at him once more. “let’s go, we still have a lot of prizes to give away.”
he may not be lucky when it comes to claw machines, chance and luck-based games, and whatnot, but it doesn’t matter to him that much now when he’s winning in most carnival games and especially in love.
note. @miaumooo, for you! i combined two of the prompt entries you sent in.
i think getou likes to. cradle you. swallow your body up completely with his. i think he’s especially fond of doing this during sex. you’re in his lap, his hand is holding the back of your head keeping your face buried in his neck and his other arm is wrapped around your back, making sure your chest stays pressed up against his as he rocks back and forth over and over and over again. you’re so warm, he’s like a furnace and there’s sweat beading on your skin but he refuses to let you pull alway for even a moment. just keeps rocking you gently through orgasm after orgasm. you’re trembling by the end of it. clinging to him, perhaps crying a little from the overstimulation. and he couldn’t be happier.
