(true form!sukuna x chubby!reader) | fluff/ crack / suggestive
you were convinced sukuna was somehow made for cuddling.
four large arms wrapped around you, holding you close — broad chest pressed against your back, large body radiating constant heat.
you had your head resting on his bicep, the size of it basically acting as a slightly smaller, more comfortable version of a pillow. sukuna had another arm draped around your waist, hand splayed across your soft tummy, the other two arms in similar positions. he was practically squeezing you in his sleep.
when you stir during the night, he tightens his hold, securing you against him further so you can’t leave. not even for a second.
you were both warm and drunk with sleep, the soft morning sun beginning to beam through the windows.
you stir first.
a lazy sigh, a soft shift of your hips, body dying to stretch its muscles. you peek behind you, catching sight of sukuna’s sleeping form, four eyes glued shut — pink hair messy in the best way.
you wriggle a little, cautious you don’t wake the grumpy cute beast behind you. the moment you move more than an inch, one of sukuna’s eyes snap open, watching you try to slide out from beneath his arms.
"no." he doesn’t say much — he doesn’t need to. sukuna could keep you curled up next to him for eternity if he wanted. you were helpless against him, especially when he was needy like this.
he tightens his arms further, pulling you back against his chest with a lazy grumble. your soft curves only made sukuna want to keep you in bed with him longer — your body was so supple, so cozy.
"kuna, i need to use the bathr-"
"quiet."
you sigh quietly, desperate to stretch your legs and empty your bladder, or even just have a second to breathe without being crushed by the grumpy oversized cat behind you.
"i can’t hold it much longer-" you warn, squirming sukuna’s hold again, pinching his arm in protest. he doesn’t move, not even a millimetre, your protests falling on deaf ears. "kunaaaa!" you whine.
"i do not care, woman. disturb my slumber again and i will eat you," he mumbles, throwing empty threats around like he actually means them. he lets out a sound that could only be described as half whine, half growl, setting back in.
you giggle lightheartedly, wiggling your ass against him in a playful manner. you may have to resort to other techniques to get the man to release you from his iron grip. "…oh yeah?"
sukuna cracks an eye open again, one hand finding your hip, halting your movements. "you have woken me up. do not wake them also," he rasps, trying to ignore the two growing bulges under the sheets.
"let me use the bathroom and i’ll say good morning to you properly," you grin, grinding your full ass against his crotch. he hums lowly, clearly satisfied with this idea, yet slightly irritated he’d have to spend a few minutes without you curled up against him.
slowly, he relaxes his grip, letting you slither away towards the bathroom. "be quick, woman."
he already missed you.
a/n; i wrote this after a few cocktails so… here’s this i guess… sorry it’s so short ugh (also this isn’t part of chubby concubine series i hope i made that clear idk LOL)
꩜ – FRAT PRESIDENT SATORU GOJO (and the shy girl he's obsessed with!)
(18+) HEADCANONS :: – frat!gojo x innocent!reader, college au, smut, dom!gojo, handjobs, praise, corruption kink, manipulative behavior, slight dub-con
frat president!satoru, who’s used to every type of girl at his party except you, all big eyes, wandering around his house like you didn’t know what to do. he’s asked suguru to offer you everything under the sun in the last thirty or so minutes — a drink, a smoke, a joint. you just politely decline, shaking your head so prettily.
frat president!satoru, who swears he’s just got an ego when he decides he’ll be the one to show you all of that and more. he could do it if suguru couldn’t, if no one else could.
he starts off all nice, walking you to all your classes, offering his sweaters in the lectures you had together (which he only started attending for you), buying you lunch and listening to your cute little rants about your worst profs.
frat president!satoru learns that you like being held when he’s the first one to find you after an exam you swear you’d failed. he doesn’t get it ‘til he’d realized your eyes are all glassy, so shiny as you peered up at him with wobbling lips, trying not to cry in front of him.
frat president!satoru loves the way you’d just melted into his arms after that. he calls you easy to his friends for it, but something inside him never wants to let go whenever you’re willing to press yourself into his chest, wherever you’re willing to do it.
frat president!satoru, who asks you what you’re wearing all the time and sends even prettier things to wear to your dorm when he thinks you can do better.
frat president!satoru, who’s spiraling at night, jerking off to your contact photo, wrapping his large hand around his dick and pretending like it’s that sweet mouth of yours engulfing his length. he imagines how shy you’d be, lips parted wide, smearing pre-cum and replacing your candy lip palm. he wants you tasting like him, those soft cheeks drenched in his cum, eyes screwed shut until he’s all you can think about.
frat president!satoru likes making you need him, doting on you and driving you around like a princess, spoiling you until you frown whenever his hand isn’t on your hip, or whenever he dodges your calls for fraternity meetings. he likes the idea that you might become obsessed with him (like he is with you).
frat president!satoru, who’s grinning cruelly the minute you finally tell him, “you know, you do so much for me, I feel like I’m not doing enough for you.” in that small little voice of yours one day, while you’re tucked into his side at your apartment.
frat president!satoru, who’s never missed a meeting or a call until that day, when he’s finally got you whimpering shyly in his lap while he gently mouths at your neck, tasting that perfume he’s been searching online for for weeks, whispering about how he’s so grateful you wanna help him out, how sweet you are for making it up to him too even when you didn't have to.
but he’s been waiting for weeks, you’re all soft and impressionable on him, and he’s not letting a moment of your kindness go to waste.
frat president!satoru guides you with a husky voice when he teachers you to spit in your own palm and wrap your smaller hand around his cock, nearly shivering at the contact — “make me feel good, pretty girl, it’s the least you can do.”
frat president!satoru, who just chuckles at the fact that you’re all nervous, looking up at him as if asking what to do next, just for him to wrap his palm around yours, engulfing it entirely. he groans lowly as he moves your palm up and down on his already-hard length, bottom lip catching between his teeth at how warm your hand feels against his dick.
“shit, just keep it like that, baby, up and down…”
frat president!satoru, who kisses you slow when you gasp at how he bucks up into your hand, keeping his own wrapped around it while desperately attempting not to just use you, jerk himself off with your tiny little fingers, maneuver you down and slam himself deep into your tight cunt. “hah — fuck, gorgeous, y— you’re good at this, huh? so good for me, so fucking cute…”
“i’ve never done this before,” you admit into frat president!satoru’s mouth, hushed and breathy like it’s a secret. he wants to fucking laugh, but he’s cut short by a low hiss as you thumb at his slit without him having to teach you, making him lose his mind piece by piece. shit, you’re just perfect, aren’t you?
“am — am I doing okay, satoru?”
frat president!satoru has nearly had enough of patience when you say that. shit, he bites down into your lip without even realizing, hand tightening around yours when you whimper. and it’s barely enough to notice at first, but he pumps your hand around him faster, growling into your mouth at the way your fingertips flex around his length, making a slick! sound that echoes across the room.
“you’re — shit, just like that — doing perfect, baby. so perfect.” frat president!satoru groans into your throat, even though he’s using your hand like a fuck toy now, smearing his own pre-cum mixed with your saliva all over his huge dick, bucking his hips up into your plush skin like a glorified fleshlight.
the only one he’s dreamed of in the past few weeks, at least.
frat president!satoru gets off on how eager you are to match his pace, his other hand cupping your cheeks to purse your pretty mouth open for him as he spits down your throat and relishes in your confused little whine. he doesn’t even realize how tightly he’s gripping your hand now, forcing you to jerk his cock faster.
“that’s it,” he pants into your lips, “just let me have you, okay? hah— so good, shit, you’ve been wanting this too, haven’t you?”
“satoru—” your voice is a wet dream, how it feathers off around the edges and breaks like you’re not sure.
frat president!satoru groans at the sound of your confusion. “been, fuck, thinking about this, baby. want you creaming on my cock next, yeah? or maybe it’s — haah! — too big for your first time. gotta — shit — prep you first.”
frat president!satoru spills into your hand with one last rough stroke of both your hands around his length, gasping low with his tongue down your throat as he finally lets your hand go. he watches the way your palm shakes, eyes dark, lifting your cum-covered fingertips to your mouth without thinking. and he thinks you won’t do it, until—
your sweet fucking tongue darts out to lick experimentally at your own fingers, and satoru thinks he’s gone to heaven.
frat president!satoru, who can’t help himself when he’s grabbing you by the waist now, laying you flat on your back and coming up to slot his knee between your thighs, committing the way your face scrunches up in both confusion and pleasure. he thinks you’re the cutest fucking thing in the world, and he wants you broken in every way possible until you can’t fuck any other guy without imagining his dick.
“thank you, baby,” he grins against your neck. “can i make you feel good now?”
frat president!satoru, who decided he’d never let you fuck anyone else anyways the moment you'd nodded.
WE NEED MORE SASSY READER!! I REQUEST A FIC OF HER WALKING HIM LIKE A DOG AGAIN PUH LEASEEE I LOVE YOU!!
walking your man toji like a dawg!! (older toji x chubby/sassy reader)
toji knew he was in deep fucking shit before he even unlocked the front door. it was well past midnight, the apartment was dark, quiet so that he could hear the keys jingling in his own hand while he eased the lock open, already planning how he was gonna sneak through the hallway without waking you.
he had a plan that he would take his boots off by the door, shower quick, side into bed, and deal with the consequences tomorrow.
the hallway light was turned on. and fuck, you were already standing there.
lttle nightgown brushing your calves, arms folded tightly across your chest, looking far too good to be nearly as terrifying as you actually were. you were literally glaring daggers at him.
toji stopped dead in the doorway, shoulders still half turned toward the front door, and let out the smallest sigh imaginable. "...baby." he drawled, his voice gruff.
you didnt answer, you walked over, reached up, grabbed him clean by the ear, and yanked him down until he was forced to lean toward you.
"fuck!-" he grumbled, immediately wincing as you tugged harder. your free hand came up and smacked him square over the head. smacking him so much that he couldnt count it. each smack sharp enough to sting his pride more than anything else while he just stood there taking it, one enormous hand rubbing uselessly at the ear you refused to let go of.
"aight- aight, fuck!" he responded, trying not to laugh because he knew itd make everything worse. "girl, y'gonna knock whats left of my damn brain loose."
you finally opened your mouth, your voice low and menacing.
he winced, clicking his tongue, his eyes narrowing down at you. god you were cute, but so goddamn terrifying. "aye, baby...i was busy." he tried to say. hed probably attempt to grab you by the waist and kiss that frown off your face.
you smacked him again.
you turned and walked away without another word, disappearing back toward the bedroom while toji stood in the hallway for another few seconds, quietly rubbing the back of his head before following after you like he was quite literally walking to his own excecution.
by the time he had showered and climbed into bed, you were already lying on your side with your back to him, blankets tucked neatly around you while your phone glowed softly in the dark. the room stayed completely silent except for the video playing through your speakers.
"welcome back." said the video, "today were going to be talking about how to divorce your husband..."
toji froze halfway beneath the blanket, he looked at the phone, and then at the back of your head.
you didnt acknowledge him. you simply watched with quiet concentration, and every so often, just as he started thinking maybe you werent actually serious, youd glance over your shoulder with the flattest, most unimpressed expression imaginable before turning back to the video again.
toji was at a loss for words.
he just layed there stiff as a baord on his side of the bed, hands folded over his stomach, staring up at the ceiling while the woman on your phone cheerfully explained legal shit. every few minutes youd shoot him another long, silent look over your shoulder, and every single time hed already be looking anywhere else, suddenly fascinated by the ceiling fan, the curtains, the wall, anything except your eyes.
he wasnt scared of much, but god was he scared of yoh.
a/n: LAST POST BEFORE JAPAN YALL!@!!!!! IM SO GEEKED.
Satoru Gojo is fucking gorgeous, which is so deeply unfair that you’re still kind of processing it as he pays for your movie ticket with trembling fingers. His white hair is slightly tousled, soft against his ears, and his glasses are tilted just a bit on the bridge of his nose. He keeps pushing them up like he’s stalling, trying not to meet your eyes too long because every time he does, he gets flustered. His face goes pink and he laughs too loud. You bite your lip every time he does that.
You’re no better. Your hands are clammy inside the sleeves of your hoodie, because you thought this was going to be a safe little date. Nerdy. Harmless. You met at a fucking Doraemon expo for god’s sake, where he gave you a Doraemon-shaped candy and then looked like he wanted to die from shyness.
And now you’re sitting in a too-dark movie theatre with his knee brushing yours.
You think you’re gonna die too. Because there’s heat pooling between your legs, and you're pretty sure you’ve soaked through your panties, and this was supposed to be your first normal date. Not a panty-ruining, thigh-clenching disaster where you keep imagining his stupid hot fingers pulling your hoodie up and touching you like you're not both trembling virgins about to combust from one misplaced touch.
Satoru’s voice cracks in the dark.
“You, uh— are you okay?”
You look at him, wide-eyed. “What? Yeah. I’m fine.”
He fidgets. “You’re breathing kinda fast.”
You are. Shit.
“I’m just…” you squirm, thighs pressed tight together. “The seats are uncomfortable.”
He makes a strangled little laugh, eyes darting to the screen and then back to your mouth. You don’t know who moves first, but a second later, your hands are brushing in the popcorn bag and boom— your bodies are pressed together like magnets.
The movie is completely forgotten. You’re both leaning toward each other, breathing the same hot air, and it’s dizzying how close he is. His scent is soft and clean, like soap and sugar and some light cologne that makes your thighs ache. Your lips almost brush before he pulls back, cheeks pink.
“I-I gotta pee,” he blurts. Then winces. “Fuck. Not like— fuck, I didn’t mean it like—”
You stare at him, lips parted.
“…Me too,” you whisper. “Bathroom. I mean.”
So of course, of course, ten minutes later, you’re both in the tiny single-stall bathroom behind the snack bar, the door locked, and you’re pressed against the wall with Satoru’s hands hovering an inch from your waist like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch you.
You’re panting.
So is he.
And there’s the faintest bulge pressing against his pants.
“You’re hard,” you whisper, stunned.
Satoru turns bright red. “I didn’t mean to be! I swear I wasn’t thinking anything— well I was thinking but not like— well yes like that but I didn’t expect you to—”
“I’m wet.”
That shuts him up.
He blinks. “Wha— You, wait really?”
You nod furiously. “Soaked. I thought I was dying. You’re, l-like— you’re so hot and tall and your hands are big and I thought—”
He sways toward you like he’s being pulled by gravity.
“You think I’m hot?” he breathes, shocked.
Your voice is barely a whisper. “You’re like—the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”
“…But I’m a virgin.”
You blink. “You’re a virgin?”
He freezes. “You didn’t know?”
You shake your head. “You’re too confident. And tall. And your voice, like— you talk like you’ve seen shit.”
“I haven’t! I’ve literally never seen anything. I still sleep with a body pillow.”
“Oh my god.”
You both start laughing, but it’s too breathy, too nervous. You’re looking at his lips again.
“I thought you weren’t a virgin,” he admits, voice low now, almost in awe. “You look like— like—”
He waves helplessly at your body. “You’re so pretty. So hot. You look like you’d ruin me.”
“I’ve never even kissed anyone,” you whisper.
“Me either,” he says.
There’s a beat of silent realization.
Then— tentatively— his hands touch your waist. He’s shaking.
“Can I…”
You nod. “Yeah. Please.”
The kiss is terrible. Teeth clashing, noses bumping, your mouths slipping messily before you both pull away with startled laughter. But his face is flushed, and his eyes are glassy, and your thighs are pressed tight together because the way he’s looking at you is not innocent anymore.
“We’re so bad at this,” you whisper.
“I’m gonna die,” he mumbles, forehead pressed to yours.
“I’m so wet I think my panties are ruined,” you say, like a confession.
He groans. “That’s so hot, please don’t say things like that unless you want me to cum in my pants.”
You both snort, but neither of you moves away.
“Can I… touch you?” he whispers, barely audible.
Your eyes widen, breath catching.
“…Yes. But I don’t— I don’t really know how.”
“Me either,” he whispers. “Let’s be awkward together.”
You reach for his belt, and he lifts your hoodie just enough to see the swell of your tits in your bra. And then you both freeze, panting, staring— because holy fuck this is actually happening.
Two very horny, very confused virgins. In a bathroom. At the movies.
Grinding desperately like you’re learning each other’s bodies in braille.
His hands find your hips, pulling you closer. Your fingers tremble at his zipper. And you swear— you swear— when your pussy brushes against his bulge through your panties and tights, he nearly whimpers.
You're both gonna combust.
You’re still half-laughing, half-gasping into his neck, your panties damp and sticking to you like sin, and Satoru’s hard dick is pressed against your inner thigh through his jeans like it hurts. He keeps doing these little shaky inhales, fingers digging into your hoodie at the waist like he needs something to hold onto or he’ll float off the planet.
His glasses are fogged. His cheeks are pink. And when you drag your nose along his jaw just to feel him shiver, he makes the softest noise you’ve ever heard. A tiny, broken sigh— like the kind of sound you might make when someone pets your hair just right.
You feel like you’re on fire.
“You’re really… hard,” you whisper, a little dreamy, dragging your hand down the front of his jeans like you’re curious more than anything else. Because you are. You can feel the length of him, thick and hot under the denim, twitching at just the barest touch of your fingers. “Like… all the way.”
“I know,” he whines, quietly. “It’s been like that since the popcorn scene.”
You giggle. “We didn’t have a popcorn scene.”
“You were licking butter off your fingers.”
“…Oh. Yeah okay, fair.”
You’re still staring at the bulge in his jeans. It’s insane. It’s… kind of intimidating, honestly. But you’re so curious, and he looks like he might actually die from the idea of you wanting to see him like this.
“Can I see it?” you whisper.
His breath catches. His whole body freezes.
“You— my… dick?”
You nod shyly, face burning. “Just once. I just— I wanna know what it looks like.”
He stares at you like you’re a mythical creature. “You really want to see it?”
“…Yeah.”
His fingers are shaking as he fumbles with his zipper.
You don’t look away— not even when he shoves his boxers down and his cock bounces free, flushed and heavy and dripping. You make a noise, something halfway between shock and awe, because holy shit he’s big. Not just big— long, curved a little toward his stomach, thick enough that your mouth goes dry. The tip is glossy and wet, a pretty pink color— a clear bead clinging to the slit like he’s leaking from just grinding on you.
“Oh my god,” you whisper, stunned.
Satoru makes a noise that’s not human. “D-don’t look at it like that.”
“I can’t help it,” you breathe. “It’s pretty.”
His brain shuts down.
“Pretty?” he croaks.
You nod dumbly, staring. “It’s like… glossy. And pink. And it’s twitching.”
He groans. “Don’t say twitching—”
“But it is! It’s like it’s waving at me or something. It looks so needy.”
He grabs the wall behind your head like he might collapse.
“You’re so cute,” you whisper. “You’re really hard just from kissing me.”
“You’re soaking,” he counters, voice hoarse. “You’ve been wet for an hour.”
You whimper a little. “I didn’t even know I could get this wet.”
Satoru groans again and cups himself like it’ll stop him from cumming just from talking to you.
You reach out— slowly— and wrap your fingers around the base.
He jolts, hips stuttering forward into your hand like it’s instinct. His eyes flutter shut and his whole body shudders, like he’s never felt anything like this.
“…You’re so warm,” you whisper. “And thick.”
“I’m gonna cum,” he blurts.
You pause. “Wait, already?”
“I told you,” he gasps, pressing his face into your neck. “It’s your voice— fuck, the way you’re touching me—”
You slide your hand up and watch his cock twitch, leaking over your fingers.
He sobs a little. “Angel, please—”
That makes you freeze.
“…Angel?”
He peeks up at you, embarrassed. “It slipped out.”
You bite your lip, then smile, stroking him again. “I like it.”
“You’re so soft,” he moans. “And your hand’s so small, it doesn’t even fit—”
You squeeze a little tighter. He gasps.
“Tell me when,” you whisper, eyes wide. “I don’t wanna waste it. You’ve been hard for so long.”
“‘When’?” he pants.
“Yeah,” you say, breath catching. “I want to see what your cum looks like too.”
He shatters.
Just like that— hot, thick ropes spill out across your fingers, your hoodie, his shirt. You watch with wide, fascinated eyes as his whole body curls toward yours, hips stuttering, voice cracked and pleading into your shoulder. His cock throbs in your hand like it’s losing its mind. He sounds so helpless, so high and soft when he whimpers your name.
You stare at the mess.
“…Whoa.”
He’s panting against your cheek, totally limp. “That was so embarrassing.”
“It was awesome,” you breathe. “I made you cum.”
“I exploded in ten seconds.”
You stroke his hair. “I think you’re perfect.”
He melts a little into your chest.
“…You wanna see me next?” you whisper.
His head jerks up like a prairie dog.
Satoru’s still shaking.
You can feel it— his breath hot and unsteady on your neck, his heartbeat punching against your ribs where your bodies press together. Satoru Gojo just came all over your hand like some desperate teenager, having a wet dream, and you’re still standing in a movie theater bathroom, soaked to the skin and so turned on it’s getting hard to breathe.
His cum is sticky on your fingers. Warm, it smells faintly like salt and sugar, and he’s still leaning against you like he’s not sure how to stand on his own.
And then—
Your voice, soft and daring, nearly a whisper:
“…You wanna see me next?”
Satoru blinks. Eyes blown wide. Mouth parted, in disbelief.
“…Are you serious?”
You nod.
He looks stunned. “Like… your pussy?”
Your whole face burns.
“Y-yeah,” you stammer, suddenly nervous. “If you want. I mean— I know it’s— kind of a lot, and maybe messy, but I just… I’ve never… shown anyone." You're looking down at the floor before you finish the rest of that sentence... then your eyes are darting back up to his face, blue eyes stargazed in disbelief. “And I want you to see.”
He’s speechless, Satoru is utterly speechless.
You fidget, heart thudding, tugging your hoodie down like it can hide the way your thighs are trembling, how wet you still are under your panties.
“I just thought… since I saw yours…”
His hand flies up, quick. Cupping your face, both of you look into each other's eyes.
“I want to,” he blurts. “I want to so bad I think I’m gonna die.”
You smile, shy and giddy. “Okay. Then… can you take my panties off?”
He gasps.
Like, actually gasps. Clutches his chest. Staggers backward like you hit him with a spell.
“Say that again,” he whispers.
You reach under your hoodie, slowly rolling your leggings down to your thighs, revealing just a sliver of your pale pink cotton panties, soaked straight through. There’s a wet patch over your pussy— obvious, shiny, and dark.
“Take them off,” you whisper, voice trembling. “Please?”
He looks like he might cry.
“Oh my god,” he chokes. “You’re so wet you soaked through. That’s from me? From just— grinding on me?”
You nod, cheeks flushed. “You made me so wet I couldn’t focus on the movie.”
His hands are on your thighs now, huge and hot, trembling a little as he sinks to his knees in front of you like he’s not even aware he’s doing it. His glasses slide down his nose. He pushes them up, eyes fixed on your panties like they’re the most sacred thing he’s ever seen.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispers, “but I wanna learn so bad.”
You’re breathing so fast your legs are shaking.
His fingers slide under the sides of your panties. He hesitates.
“Ready?” he asks, voice so soft.
You nod, in eager anticipation, like when you know you're about to rip a band-aid off. But... in this case, it's your soaked sticky ruined panties.
And he pulls them down.
Slow, slow, slow
The cotton clings to your cunt, like they're almost glued to you, but he gets them off with a firmer tug.
Your cunt glosses in the light.
Dripping. Swollen. Slick as fuck and twitching under his gaze. You clench a little just from the air, the tension, the way he’s looking at you like he just saw an angel squirt holy water.
He moans. Moans.
“You’re so pretty,” he breathes. “Holy shit, you’re soaked. I didn’t know it could do that.”
You giggle nervously. “It doesn’t usually. I think it’s a you thing.”
He gulps, audibly.
His eyes don’t leave your pussy, even as he leans forward, nose almost brushing your thigh.
“Can I… touch you?”
You feel your knees threaten to buckle.
“Yes.” You say with too much enthusiasm than you meant.
His fingers twitch. “I don’t know how.”
You grab his wrist and guide it...
His middle finger barely grazes your folds and you gasp, clenching, hips jumping forward.
“Oh fuck,” he moans. “That was barely anything. You’re shaking.”
“You touched my clit,” you pant. “It’s sensitive.”
His eyes sparkle.
“Oh my god. I love that you know what it’s called.”
You’re breathless, laughing a little. “I’ve read fanfiction. Have you not?”
“I have, but in those they just say ‘your little pearl’ and shit.”
You groan. “That’s not even close.”
He’s looking again, hand hovering like he’s terrified to mess it up.
“Okay, so… this is your clit,” he murmurs, grazing it again, watching how your whole body twitches. “It’s so tiny. But you sound like I electrocuted you when I touched it.”
You whimper, cause he's teasing... He's curious as well and doesn't fucking know how much him petting your clit actually affects you.
“You like that?” he whispers, a bit entranced. Crystalline blue eyes focusing on the sticky strands of your slick connected to his fingertips as they stretch when he rubs and pulls them off your glued pussylips.
“Y-yeah.”
He touches again, a little firmer... slower, really working your clit, the soft squelches audible, he really wants to taste it, the creamy thing webbing his fingers, the thought pounding in his head.. Would you be grossed out if he just shoved his fingers in his mouth right now and got a taste of that sappy cream?
You whimper louder, snapping his attention back from his lewd thoughts.
His voice is shaking. “Can you c-cum like this? Just from me touching you?”
You nod furiously. “If you keep going, Fuck. Please keep going.”
His thumb brushes you now, a bit more confidently.
“You’re dripping,” he mumbles. “It’s getting on my wrist, angel”
Your thighs snap shut, embarrassed.
But you’re so close and he’s still rubbing in slow, shaky circles and whispering your name and watching you like he’s studying for a test he’s gonna fail with honors. Your clit feels like it’s throbbing. You can’t stop shaking. Can’t stop whining.
And then—
“Cum for me,” he whispers, awed. “Please, please pretty girl, I wanna see.”
That makes your cunt clench, his voice the thing that makes you break instantly.
You clam up around nothing, crying out as your pussy gushes over his hand, wet and twitchy, making a fucking mess on his hoodie sleeve. Your knees give out. He catches you instantly, still on his knees, arms full of shaking, panting girl.
You’re sobbing in relief, thighs sticky, pussy still fluttering, and his hands are holding you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.
“You’re so amazing,” he breathes. “I can’t believe I made you cum.”
You whimper. “You’re so good. I didn’t think it would feel like that.”
He kisses your thigh.
Then your stomach, and makes his way up and then your lips, just to feel you.
Soft and careful, with utmost devotion and care.
And you melt against him, fucked out and flushed, pressed to his chest.
“…We should do this again,” he mumbles.
“Next time,” you pant, smiling, “I wanna see if you can make me squirt.”
He chokes, on what little air he's breathing.
But you’re still trembling.
Your panties are hanging off one ankle, his cum is drying on your sleeve, and your pussy is throbbing— still fluttering every now and then like your body can’t believe you actually came. You’re slumped against Satoru’s chest, half-limp, while he rubs soft little circles on your lower back like he’s trying to soothe an overstimulated kitten.
Time is passing and neither of you has said anything in the last full minute.
Except him whispering “holy fuck” under his breath every ten seconds like a mantra.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” he finally says, voice all hushed reverence. “You came.”
You nod, agreeing lazily. Dazed, and still reeling in the high. “Like… a lot.”
“You squirted.”
“I did not.”
“There was liquid. Splash zone level.”
You slap his chest, giggling, but your thighs twitch. You’re so sensitive you could cry, your clit aches in that perfect, pulsing way that means it wants no more and yet… you’re still soaking wet.
And you feel it. That ache deeper inside you now. Heavy and throbbing. Unused.
Unsatisfied.
You shift against him, face buried in the soft cotton of his shirt, and whisper:
“…Satoru?”
“Yeah?”
“I want you to put your fingers in me.”
You feel him freeze. Every muscle goes stiff. His hands still on your back. You feel his dick— hard again— press against your thigh like it heard you first.
“Wha— what.”
You look up at him, breath shaky. “You made me cum from the outside. But I’ve never been touched inside.”
His ears go red.
“I— I don’t wanna hurt you—”
“You won’t.” You take his wrist, place his hand gently against your mound. “I trust you.”
He swallows hard. You begin to guide his fingers between your thighs again, letting him feel how wet you still are. You gasp a little just from the contact— still sensitive, still twitchy.
His voice comes out hoarse. “You’re soaked.”
“Just go slow,” you whisper. “I wanna know what it feels like.”
He moves down again and actually takes his jacket off and spreads it over the tiles beneath you. He's kneeling like it’s instinct now, reverent and worshipful. Like he belongs on the floor for you. He kisses your inner thigh once, sweet and shaky, then stares between your legs like he’s seeing magic.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says.
You nod, open for him by parting your thighs, trembling ever so slightly.
His fingers sliding along your sappy folds, middle finger inching closer to your hole's opening, more slick gathers and pools as it tries to worm its way in.
You gasp at the feeling.. a bit in fear and uncertainty, but he's so gentle, holding you tighter against him.
His finger begins to push in, your tiny hole fighting him, the intrusion. It's nothing like you've ever felt.
Satoru’s breathing stops entirely.
“You’re tight,” he whispers, stunned. “You’re— fuck, you’re so warm, I can feel your pulse.”
You whimper. “Go slow. Just the tip.”
He pushes a little, and you clench involuntarily, sucking him in just a bit.
He moans. Actually moans. Like you’re the one touching him.
“Angel, you’re gripping me.”
You bury your face in your sleeve, whining. “It’s not fair. Your fingers are big.”
He curls his finger just slightly— experimenting— and your entire body jolts.
“Oh— oh fuck!” you cry out.
His eyes go wide. “Was that— was that good?”
“D-do it again,” you pant.
He does. Gentler, carefully pressing just right, and your walls flutter around him so tightly it’s like your body doesn’t know how to handle it.
“You’re so wet,” he mumbles. “You’re sucking me in.”
You grab his wrist. “Try two.”
He stares. “Are you sure?”
“Please, Satoru.”
You’re breathless, begging.
He shivers like it physically affects him.
He slides another finger in— and your pussy stretches around him, tighter than he expected. Your mouth drops open. Your thighs twitch.
“Oh my god,” you gasp.
“Fuck, you’re squeezing me— I can’t move,” he moans.
You rock your hips, helping him, whining through your teeth.
It’s deep. It’s thick. He curls again— and you sob, eyes fluttering back.
“There— oh my god there, right there—”
His fingers are hooked now, rubbing that spongey spot deep inside that makes your eyes cross. His thumb finds your clit on instinct, and suddenly you’re wailing, your whole body shaking, your pussy clenching so hard around his fingers he can barely move.
You cum again, messier and needy. Your velvet walls constricting his fingers in waves.
And he watches, awed, wrecked. His other hand supporting you as your thighs tremble uncontrollably.
He doesn’t even pull out.
He just whispers, “You’re so beautiful when you cum.”
And you start crying.
Happy tears. Dumb overwhelmed tears. Because no one’s ever touched you like this, seen you like this, loved your body with nothing but his hands and awe.
He kisses your forehead.
You sniffle. “I want you inside me someday.”
He nods. “Me too.”
“…But I might have to train for it.”
He laughs, breathless. “Me too. My heart can’t take this.”
You null away on his chest for a minute. Exhausted by everything your body's endured tonight, your panties still on the floor, his arms still secured tight around you and he press soft kisses to the top of your head.
Eventually when he slowly eases his fingers out of you, you're relaxed, no longer holding them hostage, it slides out with a flurry of slick gushing out, all what's been welling up and stuffed inside your cunt for the entire time.
He rubs it up and down your pussylips then into your clit one last time before he's bringing his fingers to his lips, and moaning as your flavour hits his tongue. Finally, getting a taste of you and he couldn't be more pleased at the tangy-sweetness of it.
Satoru licks his fingers clean, savouring it and after he's the one reaching for your panties, tugging them back up along with your leggings as he tells you softly to, "Raise your hips for me please, angel. Good girl, just like that." You do, and he secures them back in place, cunt still pulsing. Fresh slick soaking your panties again.
Satoru stands first, all long limbs and easy grace and he reaches down for you next. His hands are warm as he pulls you up from the bathroom floor. His jacket lies there still, a dark wet patch blooming where your cunt had soaked through.
Heat floods your cheeks, you're quick to mumble an apology, eyes glassy with leftover pleasure and sudden shyness.
He just chuckles softly. Bends to snatch the jacket up like it’s nothing. He balls it in one hand and tucks it under his arm.
“Shh, angel. It’s fine.”
He cups your face, thumbs brushing your flushed skin. Then he kisses you slow and deep, tasting like sin and sweetness. “One wash and it’ll be brand new. Don’t worry about it.”
He doesn’t tell you he plans to keep it exactly like this. A filthy little souvenir, from tonight.
His fingers lace with yours as he leads you out of the stall. The movie is long forgotten. He keeps you tucked close against his side the whole way through the emptying theater. The night air hits cool when you step outside.
In the car he drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh. Possessive and gentle.
Later that night you lie in bed, sheets tangled around your legs. Your phone glows in the dark. Heart hammering, you type the silly questions anyway.
you 🩷
so… are we...
dating?
omg omg
am i your girlfriend now?!
His reply comes instantly.
toru 🩵
i knew we were soulmates when you asked to see my dick
aaaand called it "pretty"
ilysm angel omg
You giggle into your pillow, face burning. Your chest feels too full. Tonight was crazy. Wild and messy and perfect.
But now one, no two orgasms later and Satoru Gojo is yours. Officially. The nerd from the Doraemon expo.
You fall asleep smiling stupidly into your pillow, already wondering when you’ll feel his hands on you again.
MDNI/18+ only, nipple sucking
Roommate!Gojo x fem!reader
The heat is getting to you—it has been getting to you, but just yesterday you had AC to survive this horrible, horrible weather. Now that fuckass thing is broken and you have to sit here in the heat, sweating your ass off.
You’ve already put your hair up and away from your neck, a cold bottle of water being currently pressed against your skin, helping you cool down slightly.
It doesn’t work, though. Sure, it’s a nice respite, for two second, before another wave of absolute heat makes you sweat even more. Groaning, you close your eyes.
Satoru walks into the living room, where he sees you sit. A bottle of water awkwardly held against your overheating skin, little droplets of water and sweat beading down your neck. Not just your neck, but your entire body is covered in a sheen of sweat, glistening in low light.
A droplet of sweat beads down from your chin all the way to the valley of your breast, disappearing where he can’t see.
Fuck. Of course you would wear minimal clothing with this heat—just a small tank top, which has your tits almost spill over, and the shortest shorts known to mankind—but it just overheats him more.
Pushing his white locks from his forehead, he walks over to where the AC isn’t blasting.
“Please tell me you can fix it,” you groan from the couch, opening an eye to see your roommate look at the AC with a frown on his face. Sweat is beading down his temple as he stretches, giving the thing a quick tap—as if that would do anything.
There’s a faint reply from him, but you aren’t even listening anymore. While he’s trying to work on the AC—arms outstretched, muscles flexing, more sweat dripping sinfully down his body—his shirt has ridden up just enough for you to see that V-line and a portion of his abs.
Licking your lips, you let your eyes linger for a second longer, giving him some hums in reply to what he’s saying.
Sure, you’ve seen Gojo walk around without a shirt many times, but that doesn’t mean you get tired of the sight. It’s not like you normally get to have a good look. If your eyes so much as wandered down his chest, he would give you a small smirk, subtly flexing his abs, before you turned around with a scoff.
He’s hot, so what? And now he also has it hot, sweat dampening his shirt, clinging to the outline of his body. Maybe he should just take it off. To battle the heat, of course, nothing else!
Your mouth is getting parched by now. And just in time, too, because Gojo turns around with a pout on his face, lower lip jutted out dramatically. “Can’t get it to work.”
“That’s because you can’t get anything to work,” you grumble before taking a sip of your cold water that has warmed up by your skin slightly. Still, the cool water slides down your throat, a little bit spilling from the corner of your mouth, trailing down your neck, leaving behind a wet trail of goosebumps.
Suddenly, Gojo leans into your personal space. The heat of his body is unbearable right now, but you can’t lean away any further, the couch behind you preventing it from happening.
Before you can even say anything, his tongue darts out of his mouth and onto your neck. He licks a broad stripe up your neck where the water trailed down—no doubt tasting all the salty sweat as well—and even onto your chin, before he leans back slightly with a small smile on his face.
“What the fuck, Gojo?! Why would you do that??” you grumble, swiping your hand over your neck which is all wet with saliva now. It’s honestly not a nice feeling, especially with this heat, and it makes you all the more cranky.
“What? I’m sweating too, and we can’t let any of the cool water go to waste!” he easily replies, still leaning in way too close. There’s a hint of amusement visible in his eyes as he looks at your bottle of water before his eyes trail down your neck again, licking his lips when they trail even lower, having a perfect view of your boobs now.
“Just because we’re in a heatwave doesn’t mean we don’t have any cool water. Wasting one drop of it wouldn’t mean we’d die. There’s plenty more in the fridge, so get your lanky ass up and get yourself some.” You end the sentence with bringing the bottle up to your lips again.
Wrong choice.
One of Gojo’s large hands wraps itself around yours, and squeezes. The water that was supposed to go into your mouth is now everywhere—your face, neck, chest, legs and onto the couch.
“Oops. Sorry, it just looked like you were feeling a bit hot, so I was trying to help you cool down—” his words trail off when he looks down. Your tank is now clinging to your body, nipples hard because of the cold liquid seeping into the fabric. And what a fucking sight it is. “But my mom always said I should clean up my own mess.”
His lips descend onto your chest, slurping some of the water that’s still on the hollow of your throat. Gasping out, one of your hands find the back of his head, fingers tangling in his white locks that are absolutely soaked with sweat.
He peppers some kisses onto your skin, tongue occasionally flicking against your skin as he looks up at you with those bright blue eyes of his.
Biting down onto your lower lip, you look down at your roommate now situated between your legs as he absolutely laps you up. You wouldn’t have guessed this actually happen in even your wildest dreams. Sure there have been some where he was in, but even your mind kept cock-blocking you.
Hovering just before your your nipple, he looks up for permission. Giving him a small nod, he surges forward, lips wrapping around the hardened peak through the fabric, absolutely sucking and biting on it.
Moaning, you arch your back for him, hand pushing him further into your chest. His tongue circles around the bud a few times before he sucks again, a wet slurp of which you have no doubt also makes his entire fill with water and sweat, that was seeped into your top.
Your other hand tightens around the bottle of water. The crinkling of it has you snap your eyes to it, and a small smirk immediately stretches your lips.
There’s still a bit of water left in the thing, and without thinking too much about it, you pour the remained down Gojo’s back. The liquid drenching his shirt, the white fabric becoming transparent, clinging to his back muscles.
He gasps as he jolts slightly. Detaching his lips from your chest, he looks at you with wide eyes. “Oops.” you do not sound sorry for even a little bit. “Maybe you should take that off.”
Huffing a laugh through his nose, he shakes his head a little, but easily complies. His hands find the hem of his shirt, and he slowly takes it off. Taking his time with it, you let your eyes wander once more—his abs now fully uncovered, strong biceps flexing as he pulls the shirt over his head, and of course his back rippling with the motion.
Tossing the shirt somewhere into the living room, he notes the way your eyes wander. Smirking he slowly leans forward again, lips trailing wet kisses all the way from your pretty tits all the way to your cheek.
Just as his lips hover centimeters from yours— BZZZTTT. The intercom rings through the apartment, making the two of you look over to the tiny box hanging near the door. “I’m here to fix the AC.”
In his memory, Choso is roughly thirteen years old and being forced to play 'house' with his little brother, as is a rite of passage for many. Yuji sits cross-legged from him on the carpet, little pink eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he completes the most important task he's faced in his five years on earth- delegating roles to his toys.
“Dad.” Yuji points to a small stuffed tiger, setting it aside from the bunches of animals.
“Uncle.” He says to a spiky green dinosaur, “because he has patterns like Uncle Kuna.” Choso doesn’t bother explaining to his five year old brother that they’re scales, not tattoos, because Yuji would just ignore him anyway.
Yuji goes on and on, casting his toys as grandparents, sisters, cousins and aunties; Choso feels rather rejected, sitting there patiently like a young upstart waiting for the casting list at their first theatre.
“Brother,” he says to a patchwork bear. Choso stares in affront, then sighs, expecting to finally be the second, older brother. But instead:
“Cho, you can be the house’s dog, okay?”
Choso feels genuinely offended. “But-“
Yuji ignores him, already grabbing his tiger in two chubby hands and speaking to it. Choso groans and assumes the position, hands and knees digging into the floor as he gives into his teenage pride and does whatever his little brother wants to be happy.
“Yayyy, good puppy!” Yuji cheers, rosy cheeks stretching out as he giggles into his tiger plush, his two recently lost teeth gapping his cute smile. Choso grimaces.
Now, Choso is over a decade older, and listening to those same words again- but they aren’t coming from his brother. They’re coming from his girlfriend, and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt more pathetically turned on.
“Goooood puppy, Choso.” You purr, digging your nails into his scalp as his mouth swallows up your dripping cunt whole like its all he's good for. “So good f’me.”
Choso chokes on his own gasping breath, tongue twisting shallowly inside you and searching for the pretty noises he knows you can make for him. Your hand pats his head condescendingly when he latches onto your clit and suckles, his fingers dug into your hips to smother himself with the taste of you like he never wants to let go of the supple flesh he finds there.
The humiliation burns across his face, hot and glaringly obvious; redness rests high on his cheekbones, creeping across to his bare back, snaking onto his neck. There’s no real need for him to be shirtless other than the fact you like to ogle him when he eats you out; you like lying there as he uses his mouth to make you cum while you stare hazily at the dreamy sight of his back and shoulders rolling.
You like to grin lazily down at your boyfriend and see the way his biceps flex to pin your rocking hips to his greedy tongue, the way his back muscles ripple when he humps into the mattress. You wouldn’t mind if he was fully naked, but Choso’s the one who insists on keeping his underwear on.
Every time, he’ll mumble something about the cold or a half-baked excuse about how he’s embarrassed about you seeing his ass when he gets up, but really?
He just likes the way you humiliate him.
Choso is deeply, pathetically into the way you laugh in his blushing face after he inevitably cums in his boxers. Like, reallyyy into it, to the point that the thought consumes him when he's looking online for a few new pairs of underwear- where would a damp patch be more obvious? The black or the grey?
The grey, obviously. Which is why he's wearing them right now.
He’ll crawl up on shaky arms to allow you to tease the waistband and the trail of hair above it, whimpering when you palm the damp patch over his cock and grin. “Awwwhh, Cho…” you say meanly, thumbing the tip through the fabric as it scratches the sensitive head, “you came that easily? Gosh, you’re so pathetic.”
And he’ll nod vehemently, face flaming as you bully him, strong arms resting either side of your much smaller frame as he lets you keep talking. Much like you are now.
“Pathetic.” You breathe out, voice tinged with something disgustingly close to sappy lovesickness as you brush brunette locks from his sweaty forehead. “All for me, hm?”
He moans in agreement, eyes fluttering closed when you grip his head to stuff him between your soft thighs harder. “I didn’t hear you, Cho.” You sulk. “I thought good puppies used their words.”
"It's all for you." He groans, kitten-licking your clit. "Nobody else could ever make me like this, baby. Just need you-" He dives back in, eager as ever, but your nails dig hard into his head to rip him away. "Ah-ah," you say sweetly, in love with the way his eyes dilate as he gazes at your soaked cunt, "and what are you, puppy?"
His voice cracks when he pulls away from your weeping pussy, still keeping his thumb rotating on your buzzing clit to work you up to an eventual orgasm. “I…” he whispers, eyes brimming with tears. “I’m pathetic.”
You’d feel awful if he didn’t ask you to be like this with him.
“I’m so pathetic.” He sobs out, tongue licking a flat stripe across your cunt. “So, so pathetic, can’t h-help myself-“
His voice is stuttering now, tears flowing freely down his cheeks as you gently coax him into stuffing you with his fingers again. When he does, your head tips back against the pillows and you gasp softly. The noise makes Choso’s cock twitch in his underwear.
He’s rutting pathetically into the mattress, like… well, like a dog.
Briefly, Choso imagines how it would feel to take it further and actually act like a dog; he crawls to you enough already, begs to eat your pussy on his knees, so surely buying a pretty little collar (with your name engraved for proof of ownership, of course!) isn’t too far?
And then, he thinks dreamily, wouldn’t you need a lead to go with the collar? You could drag him around on it, tugging when he whimpers about his hands hurting and slapping him to stop his whining. Maybe you’d scold him when he misbehaved and praise him when he gazes up at you with that big, brown, puppy-eyed stare you adore so much on him.
Choso’s so lost in the fantasy he doesn’t notice the way you’ve started trembling around him as he licks you through your second? third? orgasm and into the point of overstimulation.
“Ch-Choso-“ you cry, tugging at his soft locks, “s’too much, oh-“
He keens into your cunt as he keeps licking, more for himself than you as he grinds his thickening cock down into the mattress and ruins his underwear. When he finishes cumming after what feels like forever, he rests his fucked-out face on your inner thigh and lets his cheek smush against the skin.
“Good boy.” You slur, hand resting shakily on his face. Choso whimpers and closes his eyes, but quickly draws himself up to lie beside you and snuggle his face firmly into your neck. "Hm?" You giggle, eyes drifting down to the tent in his underwear. "Did you cum in your boxers again, Cho?" You tut, and the sound makes the soaked patch resting atop the outline of his twitching cock only grow more.
"Sorry..." he whimpers, clearly not sorry at all when you feel something moving against your naked hip. He's humping you, messy and unfocused as his eyes flutter shut and he clutches your body for support.
“Cho…”
“Hnngh- just- please, I’ll be good for you, just let me…” his thoughts melt when you start kissing him, mouth mixing spit with his tongue as his breath hitches.
“Such a good puppy, Cho.” You purr, pressing soft kisses to his face to help him through it as he grinds against your skin. “Always so good for me.”
And then, his undoing. “I love you, Cho.” You breathe into his mouth, “so much.”
“E-even if I’m…” he pants embarrassedly, “if I’m pathetic?”
You smile and brush hair from his teary eyes. “Especially then.”
ೃ࿔*:･
masterlist
a/n: for @f33bs, my favourite Choso puppyplay truther ever
You’re not… a pervert, exactly. Sure, you’ve imagined your boyfriend being stuffed from behind by his (equally sexy) best friend, but it’s not like you’d ever act on it! Well, that is until Gojo shows up gleefully at your shared apartment with a few new types of alcohol ‘to try’ and your mouth speaks before you can think about it.
“Toru, did you ever fuck Suguru in university?”
Gojo freezes, glass halfway to his pretty mouth. Initially, you’re mortified and think he’s probably considering breaking up with you right there- instead, the flush dusting across his cheeks tells you the answer to your question.
“Hm.” You smile knowingly, slow and coy, then cross your legs over each other. “Would… would you do it again?”
That’s how, a week later, you find yourself perched cosily in the chair that sits in the corner of your bedroom as you watch your usually strong, cocky boyfriend get reduced to a babbling mess on his best friend’s cock.
“Oh fuck, fuck, Sugu-“ Gojo gasps, hand reaching out blindly for the tangled sheets in front of him, his broad shoulders shaking with the effort of holding himself up on his corded forearms. Geto’s expansive back muscles roll as he rocks his hips forwards into your boyfriend, a few pieces of silky hair plastered to his face already.
“Come on, Satoru.” Geto purrs, snapping his hips once to hear the strangled noise that chokes out of your boyfriend’s throat, “don’t tell me you can’t take it anymore? You used to do it so well.” His hand entwines in Gojo’s hair and pulls, simultaneously bringing his body down to shove his tongue against his.
The mere sight of it is enough for you to gasp beneath your breath, electricity bubbling between your thighs as you watch Geto devour Gojo’s face. Soft white hair is crumpled beneath his fingers as Gojo moans desperately into the other man’s mouth, rutting backwards as he seeks the compatibility of their hips smacking together.
To be honest, you’d expected Gojo to be the top at first. Maybe it was because you were projecting the way he’d relentlessly pummel into you sometimes, how his big hand would wrap around your throat and clench enough for you to squeal beneath him. Or maybe you just wanted to see how beautiful Geto’s hair would look against your pillows.
But when Geto had walked into the bedroom, hair loosely undone as he yanked his shirt over his tanned shoulders, it wasn’t just you who drooled- Gojo had looked at him nervously, then you, kissed your forehead softly and murmured a little. Geto comfortingly rubbed your lower back and moved away. Even if he was about to fuck your boyfriend in front of you, he was still nice about it.
“Are you sure you want me to do this?” He’d said nervously, thumb running over your knuckles. “It’s… Suguru could be a lot, baby.”
Your eyes had drifted over to the man then, already spread out lazily on the edge of your bed as he waited for your conversation to be over. Geto was leaning back on his haunches, thighs resting apart as though he was waiting for Gojo to drop to his knees between them. Strangely, the thought didn’t peak jealousy in you but a thick, sticky desire to see it.
Turning your attention back to your boyfriend, “yes, Satoru.” Whispered against his mouth, “I trust you. And I want to watch.”
Geto smirked behind you and you met his eyes; you weren’t that close with him, really, but at least you had something to bond over now.
Fucking Satoru Gojo.
Which is what he’s doing now- exceptionally well, in fact. Geto has Gojo facing you, his bright blue eyes cloudy and dropped to the floor as he’s pistoned back and forth by the cock rummaging around in his insides. He can see your socked feet, one thigh pressed over the other.
“Don’t tell me you can’t take it.” Geto says again, voice pattered with the occasional groan as Gojo clenches around him. “Not even for her?”
Gojo gasps as a strong hand digs into the roots of his hair and yanks him up to face you, blue and dilated eyes rolling in his skull at the pain before he trembles them to face your face. He’s expecting you to look a little horrified, shocked and mortified at how pathetic he can get- but, to his surprise (dulled by the feeling of Geto’s cock prodding inside him) you… don’t.
Your lips are parted in a little disbelieving ‘o’ shape, panties soaked through- not that he can see that part- your thighs switching between squeezing together and parting as the sensation gets too much. “Look at him.” Geto laughs, “so pretty for us, isn’t he?”
You nod, biting your lip as your boyfriend hangs his head again. “So pretty for us, toru.” You agree softly.
His cock, pale but flushed angrily at the tip as Geto uses his hands to grip his hips instead, hangs untouched between his muscled thighs and twitches pre onto the sheets. You’d feel sorry for him if he didn’t look so utterly gorgeous getting destroyed in front of your face like this.
Gojo’s arms finally give up as Geto’s tip bumps rigidly across his sweet spot, elbows collapsing onto the sheet along with his face as it smushes down. Gojo’s spine curves in a way you’ve never thought it could- his hips gripped up by Geto, shoulders flat as a hand splays them out. He looks wrecked.
You slip from the chair to the floor, knees on the carpet, ignoring the way Geto moans to focus on your boyfriend as he struggles to keep his eyes open at the sudden wave of pleasure when his ass is yanked backwards again; his cheeks are sweaty when you instinctively reach out for him, instinctively seeking to comfort, and he leans into your touch just as naturally.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck-“ he whimpers, panicking at the stimulation and his snowy lashes batting across his cheek. “C-can’t-“
“You can, Satoru.” You whisper to him, lifting his head and thumbing away a few shaky tears threatening to brim at his waterline. “You’re being so, so good, sweetheart.”
He gasps out your name weakly and arches further when he shoves his mouth against yours blindly. The kiss is soft, a contrary to the way Geto is ruining him; your hands gently brush away white hair from his eyes, your touch loving.
“I’m close.” Geto breathes, his hand still pressing down between Gojo’s shoulders. You, still breathless from the kiss and the vision of your boyfriend, raise a surprised eyebrow at Gojo’s moan and you realise just how long he’s gone without real direct stimulation.
“It’s okay, baby.” You soothe him as you move from his field of vision to kneel beside him on the bed, ignoring the constant smacking of skin on skin while your hand snakes between his thighs to wrap around his cock.
“Ah-“ he sobs, “fu-ck-“
Geto makes the mistake of looking down at you, at the way your eyes are all glossy and your hand is coated in shiny pre while you work your boyfriend up to his orgasm. Something about it, about being allowed into this space where his control is only a mimicry of yours, makes Geto’s abdomen clench.
He gasps, the sound punched in on itself, as his head tips backwards and he jutters his hips deep enough to make Gojo choke while he spills inside him. At the same time, your thumb presses down on your boyfriend’s sensitive slit and he cums across your knuckles. It’s thick and there’s ropes of it, dripping messily onto the bed.
“Shh, you did so good for us.” You murmur to Gojo as Geto pulls out, presses a polite kiss to your cheek, then sets about to gather his things as he lets you sweet talk your boyfriend.
“Yeah?” Gojo laughs weakly, a little embarrassed now he’s coming down from the sex. “You weren’t… you liked it?”
“I did.” You giggle, wrapping your arms around his awkwardly long limbs while you gently smile at Geto. “Bye, Suguru.”
He laughs, tying his hair back up after tucking his cock away and pulling his clothes on. “Bye. And bye, Satoru.”
Gojo flushes embarrassingly bright against you. “Bye.”
“So…” you say quietly, combing your nails through his white hair. “Should I join in next time? It looked fun.”
୨୧ — Sukuna leaned against a nearby tree, arms crossed over his chest as he watched his daughter carefully water each plant with the child sized watering can she'd insisted on bringing. At least she was focused on something, giving him a moment of peace.
Raising a kid was exhausting in ways that even running his territory wasn't. At least with his men, fear was a reliable motivator. His daughter, unfortunately, had inherited his utter lack and complete disregard for authority- a combination that was aging him prematurely…
The moment of relative calm shattered when she finished tending her sunflowers, and without warning, bolted toward the playground equipment.
"Oi!" Sukuna called after her, pushing off from the tree with an irritated grunt.
Either she didn't hear him or -more likely- was selectively deaf when it suited her... She scrambled up the ladder to the tallest slide structure with the agility of a monkey, her ponytail bouncing with each movement.
By the time Sukuna reached the playground, his daughter had bypassed the regular slide entirely and was instead perched precariously at the edge of the platform, tiny hands gripping the top of the fireman's pole that led straight down to the ground ten feet below.
"No." The single syllable carried a warning that would have stopped his most hardened criminals in their tracks. His voice was calm, almost bored sounding, but with an unmistakable edge of command.
To his shock -though perhaps it shouldn't have been shocking anymore- her little face scrunched up in defiance, and she shouted back as loud as her little lungs would allow, "NO!!!"
Sukuna's eyes narrowed, his gaze locking with hers in a silent standoff… This was the second warning, and they both knew it. Her little legs dangled over the edge, hands still gripping the pole, poised to slide down a drop that was far too high for someone her size.
"You heard me," he said, voice dropping lower.
"NOOO!!!" came the high pitched response, followed by a pink tongue poking out between her teeth in blatant disrespect.
Sukuna's eyebrow twitched, a muscle in his jaw clenching visibly. Several nearby parents, now actively gathered their children and moved further away.
"You're going to fucking fall," he growled, not bothering to censor his language -not that he ever did-... "Don't. Do. It." Each word was punctuated, deliberate. The final warning.
"MOMMY WAS RIGHT! YOU ARE A MEANIE!!"
Sukuna's vermillion eyes widened. The fuck did this brat just say?
Had you actually called him that behind his back? No- impossible. You wouldn't undermine him like that. This was a new manipulation tactic from his increasingly cunning offspring… He might have actually been proud of her if he wasn’t so pissed off right now.
He tsked, a sharp sound of irritation, "Fine. If you want to break your neck, go ahead. The big bad monster's getting tired of saving your ass every time you do something stupid." Sukuna made a show of closing his eyes, head tilted back slightly.
He didn't have to wait long. The moment his eyes closed, he heard the whoosh of her small body sliding down the pole and the telltale sign that she had accidentally lost her grip. Without hesitation, without even looking, his hand shot out, catching her tiny ankle just before she hit the wood chips… He dangled her upside down in front of him, her face now level with his.
Far from being frightened, his little girls face split into a delighted grin, her ponytail hanging toward the ground, cheeks flushed with excitement rather than fear.
Sukuna arched an eyebrow as understanding dawned, "This what you wanted?"
She beamed at him while still upside down, nodding vigorously, "Yup yup yup!!! I wanted to see if you would catch me!!!"
Her grin faltered slightly, looking somewhat guilty, "Mommy doesn't actually think you're a meanie... I- I lied a-about that."
Something in Sukuna's gaze softened. He flipped her upright in one smooth motion, setting her on her feet but keeping a firm grip on top of her head to prevent any more escape attempts.
"Tell me something I don't know," he said dryly, "Your mother's got questionable taste, but she's not stupid."
She giggled, reaching up to grab the hand that was resting on her head, "So you're not mad?"
"Oh, I'm fucking furious," he replied, but there was no real anger behind the words... "You think you're clever, manipulating me like that?"
"Yup!" she chirped, swinging his hand as they walked away from the playground.
"Tch, you get that from me, ya know?" he muttered, half proud despite himself, "The manipulative shit… and it’s annoying as fuck."
She grinned up at him,"But you love me anyway!"
"Unfortunately." He sighed.
…
"…Can we get ice cream?"
"After that stunt? Absolutely fucking not."
Ten minutes later, they were sitting on a park bench, his daughter happily licking a chocolate ice cream cone while Sukuna pretended he hadn't just completely caved to her demands.
"Don't tell your mother," he warned, "I don’t feel like dealing with her lectures today about how you shouldn’t have this shit before dinner."
"Don't tell her what?" She asked innocently, chocolate already smeared across her cheek.
Sukuna wiped it away with his thumb, a gesture so casually tender that the few remaining parents nearby did double takes.
"Smart answer," he said with a smirk that matched her own, "guess you are my kid after all."
"Duuhh," she replied, rolling her eyes in perfect mimicry like he does, "who else's would I be?"
-`♡´-Teasing Sukuna Gets You fucked Prone Bone..! -`♡´-Art By: @!hunnismokah
You had spent the entire day being a complete tease. Playful little touches. Sly smiles. Whispered taunts that made Sukuna’s eyes narrow in that dangerous way. You pushed every button just to rile him up.
Now the sun had long set and your body burned with need and you craved him in every way. The press of his mouth on yours. Fingers tangled in his hair. That safe feeling of hiding beneath his massive frame while he held you close.
But tonight he had other plans.
Sukuna’s voice rumbled low, rolling through the room as he stood over the bed. “Be a good girl and lay on the bed flat for me.”
You obeyed, heart racing as you stretched out completely naked on your tummy, cheek pressed to bed. Arms reaching forward toward the headboard. Everything exposed and vulnerable. The cool fabric brushed your skin while heat pooled between your thighs.
“That's it. Just like that doll.” You heard his voice rumble again, making goosebumps raise on along every inch of your body. The mattress dipped as he climbed over you and grabbed a pillow, sliding it right under your tummy. It lifted your hips just enough. Arched you and kept your ass raised perfectly for him.
Your breath hitched then his hands moved with purpose. Rough yet deliberate as he spread your ass apart slowly. Thumbs pressing deep into soft flesh. His thick cock slotted between your cheeks. The hot length rubbing through your slick cunt. Back and forth. Teasing. Coating himself in how wet you already were.
The heavy weight of him made you whimper, a needy moan slipped from your lips and your hips twitched, chasing more pressure, friction making your toes curl.
“Please Sukuna…” you murmured softly. voice desperate, muffled into the mattress.
He shushed you at once. The sound was firm, leaving no room for argument. You wanted to turn your head and see his face. You wanted his mouth on yours and your arms around his neck. He denied every bit of it, his hand pressed between your shoulder blades firmly keeping you trapped.
Instead he kept teasing your dripping pussy from behind, dragging his cock through your wetness until you soaked him. His plump, swollen cockhead sticky with pre and your slick, kissing your clit again and again. Making your thighs tremble.
Your pussy was always wet for him. Always ready, regardless of how much he was denying you tonight.
He pressed the fat rounded tip against your hole and pushed in slow. So slow. Your hands fisted the sheets immediately, knuckles turning white. Normally you would be clawing at his back, nails leaving half moons, digging into his tattooed skin while he hovered over you clinging desperately to him. Tonight there was only fabric beneath your palms.
Your tight cunt struggled around his girth, stretching open around the thick head, cunt fluttering, opening up little by little. It was always a fight. Delicious and overwhelming but he kept going. Inch by inch his cock sank deeper. Giving you no escape, the stretch burned in the best way.
Slowly your pussy swallowed every thick inch, until his hips met your ass. When he bottomed out, you felt him press up against your cervix, your tummy bulging slightly into the pillow beneath you. Balls pressed tightly to your clit. The fullness made your eyes roll back. A broken gasp left your lips.
Sukuna groaned low, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. "Still so fucking tight. Y'er greedy little pussy swallowing me. haah- Look at that. Still fighting to take me even when y'er dripping like a whore."
He stayed there for a moment, letting you feel it. Letting you adjust to him, hands roaming over your back. Down your sides. Gripping your hips firmly, then he started moving. Long, deep movements at first. Pulling almost all the way out before slidin’ back in.
The angle perfect. Hitting everything proper, while the pillow kept your hips raised so he could grind deeper. Claiming every part of you, the fat head prodding right at the mouth of your cervix. Bulging your tummy forward into the pillow beneath you with every thrust. You felt that visible push. Your body yielding completely.
Moans spilled steadily from you. Wet sounds filled the room along with skin slapping skin. Your soaked cunt taking every inch over and over. He kept you pinned against the sheets as he fed aallll of his cock into your gummy walls.
Then he fucked you like he was annoyed.
His hips snapped forward relentlessly. He bullied your sweet little pussy with that fat cock, molding your walls to his shape. You became nothing but a tight sleeve for him. Each thrust made the pillow shift under your hips, moans slipping into the sheets while he used you.
Then he leaned down suddenly. His massive chest pressed fully to your back, blanketing you. It made your breath hitch. Made everything feel tighter. Hotter. One large hand found yours, interlacing your fingers with his on the bed, pinning them there. His weight settled over you, heavy and perfect. Holding you there as he fucked you harder. His hips snapping forward. Driving that deep bulge into the pillow again and again.
He kissed your neck. Soft at first. Warm lips trailing over sensitive skin, then he bit down. Sharp teeth sinking in just enough to mark you. The sting mixed perfectly with the pleasure wrecking your insides. The vibration of his growl shot straight to your cunt.
"That's right. Feel me." His breath was hot against your ear. "This pussy's mine to ruin."
He used the grip on your waist to pull you back onto his cock. Yanking your body to meet every brutal thrust. Harder, faster. The wet slap of skin filled the room. Your pussy clenched around him, creaming down his thick length as pleasure coiled sharp and fast, settling tight in your belly.
"Fuuck. Su-kunaaa." Your voice broke on his name.
"No talking back, doll." One hand fisted in your hair, not pulling hard. Just enough to keep you in place. "You take what I give. And you ngh- thank me for it."
"T-thank you." You gasped immediately. Body rocking forward with each powerful thrust.
"You're such a fuckin’ hah- brat today." He growled between thrusts. "Teasing me. Pushing me. Now you get fucked like the needy lil’ slut you are."
The words only turned you on more. Your walls fluttered wildly. Orgasm building fast and intense from the deep angle.
"Sukuna. Please… mm-close."
"Cum." He commanded. Voice rough and low. "Cum on my cock like the brat yr’are. Cum on my cock while I fill this pussy."
Your orgasm hits hard, pleasure exploding through you. Your cunt pulses wildly around his thick length. Milking him as waves crash over your body. You cried out into the sheets. Fingers digging in even harder. Toes curling tight and he kept thrusting through it. Drawing out every last bit. Groaning at how tightly your cunt squeezed him.
Sukuna chased his own release. Burying himself deep with each snap of his hips. A few more powerful drives and he stilled. Cock throbbing as he came hard inside you. Hot thick spurts filling your pulsing cunt. Flooding you until you feel utterly stuffed. Marking you from the inside until it felt like too much
He stayed buried deep for a long while, his breathing heavy against your shoulder. Not pulling out yet, just letting you feel owned and full. Then slowly he pulls out, you whine softly at the loss. Cum immediately starts leaking from your used hole, creamy and warm. Dripping down onto the sheets.
Sukuna pulls back from your fucked out body and sits on his heels, hands spreading your cheeks apart again, he inspects the white creamy mess spilling out. A low hum leaves his throat.
"Look at that. Such a pretty cum filled cunt, all fuckin’ mine."
He shifts lower, gets face level with where you're overflowing from your pussy, breath teasing your sensitive skin. Then he leans in without hesitation and shoves his tongue straight into your messy hole.
Lapping at the mix of your juices and his cum. Fucking it back in with firm strokes of his tongue licking and tasting every drop. The filthy wet sounds mixes with your overstimulated whimpers. His tongue works deep. Pushing his seed back inside you. Tasting and devouring the evidence of how thoroughly he used you. One hand keeping your ass spread open wide.
You moan loud, overstimulated and sensitive. Hips twitching back against his face, fresh heat building despite everything. He licks and sucks until you're shaking again, until every drop was either swallowed or fucked deeper inside you.
Only then did he pull back, lips shiny. Eyes dark with satisfaction. He rolls you gently onto your side first, then turns you over fully onto your back. You reached for him immediately. Arms wrapping around his neck in a tight hug. Clinging like you had been denied all night.
His hands slid into your hair, fingers stroking through the strands soothingly, cradling your head. He presses a kiss to your forehead, soft and lingering there while your breathing slowly evens out. Pressing a kiss to your marked neck too.
"You took it so well." He murmurs. "Bratty little girl. But always so good for me in the end."
You gave a small hum. Contented and full, body buzzing. In that moment you felt safe again, tucked against your boyfriend who knew exactly how to unravel and put you back together. The way he had claimed every part of you tonight.
Sleep tugged at you now and Sukuna held you there, his hands still in your hair. Forehead pressed to yours. The night settled around you both, warm and heavy with everything he had taken and everything he finally gave back after it all.
𝜗𝜚 Surely Yuki was totally lying about how hot the local underground band was, right? Well, she wasn’t. Now, you know Suguru Geto plays bass, every chord from C minor to F sharp major; maybe you should test how good he knows G.
content: smut, plot, Yuki/Shoko cameo, alcohol, mentions of birth control, jjk men in a band, bassist Suguru, tension, cigarettes, oral (f. recieving), tongue piercings, fingering, panties as a cockring, dick piercings, riding, car sex, manhandling, hickies, making out, creampies, happy endings
wc: 4.4k
a/n: this is a (super delayed) treat for 8k <33 ily all so so much!!
more like this
ೃ࿔*:･
The cafe smells of coffee and sugar, students crammed into booths or perched on stools as they procrastinate essays and sip iced, overpriced drinks. You’re sat comfortably on a corner table, bag resting limply on the floor beside you while a barista walks past you to wipe a countertop.
“Ugh, they’re just so good!” Yuki swoons in her seat, the cafe bustling around your little trio. “I mean, their lyrics are one thing, but their fans are super dedicated too-“
Beside you, Shoko rolls her eyes. “I’m surprised you can hear them over all the girls screaming.” Her teacup clatters against the saucer as she sets it down, blackened coffee grounds sloshing around within the ceramic.
“Yeah, since when were you into trending underground bands?” You ask, thrumming your nails on the table. Yuki shrugs. “You’d scream too if you saw them up close. Seriously, they’re everybody’s type.” She sighs wistfully and gazes off into the distance, and you finish your drink in two sips. So much for affordable portions, you suppose glumly.
“Well, when are they playing? I could use a night out.” Yuki perks up as you speak, eyes bright and her smile wide as Shoko digs around in her bag for her packet of cigarettes and a lighter.
Undeterred by Shoko’s obvious indifference, Yuki keeps talking. “You’re in luck! This Saturday, they’re on locally- and free- I’ve been to the bar before. It’s gonna be soooo fun!”
The rest of the week passes normally, assignments and emails floating in and out of your periphery, but you’re admittedly intrigued by Saturday and Yuki’s promise. Which is why you find yourself coating your lashes in mascara an hour before you’re supposed to meet your friends, lightly thumbing glitter along your eyelids.
Shoko rests on your bed, cross legged, squinting as she pours the remnants of something into her flask. Yuki rolls her eyes. “You’re so old fashioned.”
“Practical.” Shoko shrugs.
“Hey, guys-“ you say suddenly, sitting up, “I can take birth control if I drink, right?”
Yuki nods sagely, cracking open the ringpull on the can in her manicured hand. “As long as you don’t puke it up.”
“Okay, great.” You say, happily turning back to your mirror and brushing the wand across your eyelashes a final time.
According to Yuki, there’s no common set aesthetic between the attendees at their gigs. “Everybody just dresses sexy. That’s about it.” She’d shrugged on Friday morning over another overpriced coffee, “so wear something sexy.”
Do you look sexy? Probably- your skirt isn’t too short, but your shirt hugs your tits so well it’s almost embarrassing to go out in daylight wearing it. As such, you end up dragging on a jacket to avoid flashing the unsuspecting public- but, as it turns out, there was probably no need at all.
“Oh my god, I’m sweating already.” Shoko says. Her shirt is just as low cut as yours, which makes you feel a little better- plus, there’s probably more skin on show than there is fabric in the bar.
If you can even call it that.
It's more of a club with a bar attached than what you were expecting. Condensation drips down the walls, gathering moisture and slicking the surface. Lights bounce off people’s hair, faces, pupils dilating then shrinking back down as the strobe comes into contact with their eyes; you feel like you’ve stepped into a kaleidoscope and somebody is vigorously shaking it as you slosh around in the beads.
A particularly vicious strip of green laser stabs at your vision and you wince, eyes still adjusting to the atmosphere. But when they do, you realise you shouldn’t have been concerned about the neckline of your shirt at all.
Yuki was right- everybody in this room seems overwhelmingly sexy. Gazes track along bodies that curve for attention, strangers disappearing into tucked-away bathrooms together with their cheap drinks lying sticky and spilt on the floor.
“Yuki, what the fuck? It’s huge in here!” You yell over the music thumping through the speakers. Actually, the room isn’t too huge- but there’s so many people. Crammed wall to wall, body to body, people stagger past you to puke outside and there’s a couple in the corner making out.
It’s not just that corner, or the occasional bathroom stall, you realise- everywhere you look, there’s skin pressed to clammy skin and glitter smeared across fingertips; couples are pressed up against the exposed bricks, clothes snagging on railings. You whirl around to Yuki accusatorially as Shoko inconspicuously sips from the flask tucked into her purse. Not that there's any need- about half of the people in here are drunk already.
“Is this a sex club?” Shoko groans. Yuki laughs and takes the flask from her hand, smiling at you both. “No, obviously not- people just get kinda rowdy sometimes.“ Your own swig of alcohol warms your stomach and throat, a comforting buzz humming below your skin, and suddenly the venue doesn’t seem too bad at all.
Somehow, you end up pressed against the flimsy barricade separating the crowd of thrashing bodies from the stage. Above you, there’s two men singing into the same microphone with a woman perched behind a keyboard and you furrow your brow. “Yu, is this them?”
Shoko laughs. “Wow, anticlimax much?”
Yuki giggles a little drunkenly, unscrewing a can of something bright and sweet from her bag. “Daiquiri.” She explains when you squint at the label, pulling you a spare, “and no, this isn’t them- trust me, you’ll know when they’re on- oh my god, oh my god, it’s them!”
The venue practically erupts. People scream behind you, Yuki excitedly grabbing Shoko before turning to you and shouting something incoherent, her voice drowned out easily by the sheer volume of everybody else.
The crowd surges forwards, breath knocked a little out of your lungs as your canned cocktail sloshes in the can crumpling under your fingers. There’s a sudden burst of light from above as the spotlights fan out across the crowd, and you screw your eyes shut instinctually at the sudden explosion of white- but your ears are still open, and you can hear the amount of swooning female voices drowning out everything else.
The band can’t be everybody’s type, can they?
Your question is answered immediately when you manage to get a good look at them.
And holy shit.
“I know, right?!” Yuki yells into your ear, blonde hair tickling your neck as she leans in towards the stage to laugh at the dumbstruck look on your face. “They’re hot!”
More than hot. You aren’t quite sure where to look first, totally overwhelmed and spoilt with choice; you start at the front, to the white-haired, sunglasses wearing, grinning frontman who’s lapping up the attention.
“Is everybody having a good time?”
He only has to greet the crowd once before they’re all yelling and vying for his attention again, to which he just laughs and scrapes his hair back. “Thought so. Lemme introduce you to the band!”
You stare, slack jawed and flustered, while Gojo- as he introduces himself while grinning, much to the delight of apparently everybody- does exactly as he said between adjusting his mic stand.
Choso Kamo on the guitar, dark bangs falling softly into eyes smeared with dark makeup as his fingers slip along the fretboard; girls drunkenly squeal his name over and over, but unlike Gojo he looks almost embarrassed- a cute flush working onto his face. Gojo also mentions he’s the stand-in keyboardist, to which he blushes even harder and focuses on the chords.
Ryomen Sukuna sits behind the set of drums at the back, twirling the drumsticks between his fingers. When Gojo calls his name into the mic, he grins widely and flexes his tattooed biceps to encourage the desperate crowd’s attention; cymbals crash and vibrate when he lowers his hands, mouth barking out a laugh when Gojo pulls a face at him.
But then, finally:
“And now, my best friend and our resident bassist- come into the light, let the ladies see you!” Gojo teases; the people behind you only make more noise as he turns to face forward, beckoning his laughing friend closer, and you see why immediately.
Suguru Geto, as Gojo announces over the screams, is the kind of hot that steals your breath away and makes you want to suffocate if it means you’ll get to keep staring at him. You’re so close you can see the thin strips of eyeliner framing his eyes.
“I told you they were everybody’s type.” Yuki says into your ear, grinning knowingly as you gape up at the men- or, more specifically, man- in front of you.
“Yeah.” You nod dazedly, only half registering the words coming out of her mouth as your eyes zero in on the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips. Something metallic and shiny glints under the lights as he does so: a tiny piercing, a little silver star on the pink muscle.
You’re struck by how effortless he makes it look. Bass thrums through the amps, the floor, travelling up through your starstruck body in cloying waves that make your brain vibrate within your fragile skull.
Your mouth dries, then immediately waters again when Geto throws his head backwards briefly mid-song while his polished nails work the strings. Hair spills across his shoulders, strands falling messily from where they’ve been loosely tied back.
Try as you might, you physically can’t pull yourself away from staring at him. Not even through Choso’s abashed guitar solo, not even when Sukuna flings his drumsticks about and flashes a sliver of (tattooed, obviously) tanned abdomen to the crowd.
It’s their final song now, and you’re feeling pre-withdrawals from Geto’s presence. Suddenly, rather embarrassingly, you understand exactly why so many people in here come back again and again. You would too, just for a glimpse of him.
You need a drink.
The abandoned and lukewarm can in your hand will have to suffice, sweetened alcohol swilling about in your mouth and dripping down the side of not just the can itself, but your forearm. Without breaking the stare you’ve been holding on Geto’s gorgeous face since the very first song, you stick your wettened tongue out and drag it across your skin.
Cocktail collects on your tastebuds as you go, still gazing in entrancement up at the bassist. You’re so deep in analysing his face, the studded eyebrow piercing, the thin wisps of hair plastered to his forehead from sweat, the gauges decorating his earlobes, that you don’t realise that he’s staring back, too.
You freeze, tongue now flattened against your wrist and its rapid pulse as his eyes lock onto yours- and god help you, he smirks. A lazy, devastatingly slow facial expression as he gazes with heavy eyes directly into the face in front of him.
It’s about as cliche as it gets, you know- but for a few seconds, as Geto’s lips curl upwards and his fingers keep plucking, as the alcohol pools on your tongue and sticky skin, everything seems to blur. Muting and slowing, the sounds and smells around you stop their assault on your senses and the room narrows down to just you and the bassist who’s very blatantly ogling you.
And then, like a building wave crashing back to shore, everything quickens back up as Gojo finishes the final lyric and tosses his pick into the pit of swarming fans. A little plastic triangle, thrown to people who practically dive over each other to grab the keepsake.
“Thank you for coming!” Gojo yells into the mic, “and-“
Whatever else he says is drowned out, a rush of blood in your ears when you realise Geto’s turning to leave the stage, bass propped up against the amplifier and his eyes tugging away from yours. Your chest almost pangs.
The pavement outside, almost an hour later, is damp and gritty. You’re muttering curses to yourself as you try to ignore the man vomiting around the corner; as if that wasn’t bad enough, you’re looking for Yuki- who was looking for Shoko. So now, you’re ultimately alone while the vague smell of cigarette curls around you and embeds itself in your clothes.
“I can’t believe this.” You mumble to yourself. The alcohol has mostly lost its hold on you now, fading down to a background buzz that would be pleasant if you weren’t in such a dismal mood.
“Hey.”
You look up begrudgingly, monotone expression slapped across your face, before you see who’s speaking and almost scream. “Uh, hi!”
Beside you, cigarette in hand, stands Suguru Geto of all people. The ash burns and drops to the floor where it sizzles out, probably landing on your shoe with how close he’s standing, but you don’t care.
He smiles down at you and stubs out his cigarette. God, he’s even prettier up close. “Suguru.”
You already know. He knows you know. He knows everybody else here knows- it’s just a formality to get your name. And he does, obviously.
His lips curve again, something dangerous flickering behind his eyes when they drift down just a little to the dip in your top. “Did you enjoy the show?”
He’s murmuring at a normal volume, but it may as well be that he’s just shouted it into your eardrum with the way you jolt. “Yeah, I did.” Frowning, “but I think everybody else did too.”
Geto tilts his head, a gleaming wave of hair washing across his shoulder. “Honestly, gorgeous? I don’t think I even noticed anybody else. Not with you staring up at me all prettily, you made it hard to focus on the set.”
Avoiding his eye contact for fear you’d probably squeal, “you made it hard to focus on the rest of the band, too.”
He straightens up finally, tucking a lock of hair behind his gauges; you’re disappointed to say the least- were you too boring? Too forward? Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your skirt nervously, and Geto notices. Or, more precisely, he notices the way your thighs look in the skirt.
Not that you notice.
What you do notice, however, is the way he clears his throat and you snap your head up to look at him.
“My car’s parked around the back. Everybody else left.”
Your breath catches in your throat. It’s a thinly veiled invitation, you know that; Shoko and Yuki can handle themselves, can’t they? And you’re not sure if it’s the heat Geto’s presence brings to your face or the way the alcohol is still coursing happily through your veins, but somehow you find yourself placing your fingers with his ringed ones and following him towards the car.
Initially, you weren’t quite sure what to expect from his car, but it’s actually quite nice- air freshener hung tidily, boxes of instruments and equipment stacked in the boot. All of your curiosity, however, is brushed away like dust to the wind when Geto opens the door- and encourages you to cosy up in the backseat.
Your head thunks lightly against the glass, nervy hands automatically wrestling the steadily rising hem of your skirt back down; Geto stops you, fingers gently curling around yours and pushing the material back up your thighs until he has a clear shot down to your underwear.
He breathes out, self-satisfied and hungry, his thumb reaching forwards to tenderly glissade down the soaked fabric. Your hips twitch instinctually towards the touch; embarrassment isn’t even in your periphery anymore, too worked up to care as he keeps lightly teasing your pussy.
“Lie back for me, pretty.”
You do- god help you- and warmth pools between your legs at the sight. Geto’s crammed below, chest almost flattened to the seats, silver jewellery cool against the heated skin of your thighs when he props your legs over his shoulders and leans in.
He lets his breath fan across you at first, before swiftly pulling your panties to the side and grinning at what he finds. You can’t see between your legs, too busy craning to get a glimpse of Geto’s face, but whatever you’re viewing doesn’t matter- because as soon as he closes his plush lips around your clit your brain blanks.
Geto presses another tender kiss to your sensitive skin again before drawing back and lining an obscenely slow, teasing lick through your wetness. It’s more for him than you, undoubtedly; he can’t find it in himself to feel selfish or guilty, not when you taste so good.
You jolt, hands flying to the crown of his glossy head and gasp. “What- why are you c-cold?”
Geto smiles against your cunt, chastely kissing your inner thigh before slowly unfurling his tongue and- oh, how did you forget? His pretty little piercing, nestled right in the middle, glimmering with traces of your slick.
Words fail you, a breathless curse slipping from your mouth when your head falls back again.
“Fuck,” he moans into you, tongue flicking across your clit, “sooo good for me.”
Two fingers work themselves around you, cold rings pressing against your clit and you muffle a whimper into your palm. Geto looks displeased, to say the least. “Don’t do that. Let me hear you, pretty.”
To punctuate his point, Geto’s pulling away to hear the way you gasp indignantly as your orgasm gets ripped from you. “You can’t do that-“ you say, voice cracking, “you’re cruel.”
He just smiles, piercings glinting, as he lifts his fingers to his mouth and sucks. Your breath hitches and your chest rises below your top at the sight, so lewd and unrefined compared to everything he showed onstage earlier.
He laughs at your expression and sits back in the seat, undoing his belt without breaking eye contact. “Take your panties off for me, pretty.” You startle, halfway crawling across the seats towards him, before quizzically removing the soaked piece of fabric from where it’s all tangled at your thighs.
“Now, hand them to me.”
You do. You’re expecting him to maybe gag you with them- or himself, he doesn’t seem above that- but what he does instead makes your nails dig into the seat. Geto takes the ruined, messy fabric of your underwear and wraps it around his base.
“Fuck.” His hips stutter as he does, panties clinging to his sensitive skin as he loops them. He smiles. “There.”
You stare. Unabashedly- because what else are you supposed to do when the bassist you’re fucking in the back of his car uses your panties as a cockring?
And your gaze isn’t averted from his cock itself either; adorned with a few zigzagging veins- and a tiny sliver orb nestled at the tip. It’s identical to the one on his tongue, you notice with amusement. You wonder briefly if he has any earrings the same, but the gauges glint back at you and answer your question.
“Okay, up you go.” Geto settles back in the seat and grins as you swing your legs determinedly over his lap, your soft thighs bracketing his toned hips- but all your bravado disappears the moment your greedy hands wrap around his dick and realise just how thick he is.
The fabric at his base swallows up only what seems to be a tiny portion of his cock, slippery fabric splayed across tan skin that fades into the prettiest pink at the tip. Pre leaks down, soaking into your panties further and you tremble in trepidation.
“C’mon, gorgeous.” Geto coos, rings cold against your hips. “I’ll help you out…”
He does, guiding your slick cunt to the tip and letting gravity do the work. As you swallow him up you shudder, that teeny little piercing nudging at all your soft spots and coaxing even more wetness from you. “Ohh, fuck.” You breathe, forehead dropping to his shoulder.
He laughs and caresses your spine as you finally bottom out, lace scratching your skin just a little. “I told you I’d help you out, hm?”
You moan in response, hands curling into fists at his skin for leverage as you begin to lift and drop your hips. Geto’s head tips to the side, eyes half shut as he stares unashamedly at where you’re conjoined together.
He watches and feels the way your cunt squeezes around him as he slides out, only for you to squeak into his ear when Geto slips back in to the base and notches deep.
Your thighs are burning already, legs trembling as you fight for purchase on the smoothness of the car’s backseat. “Slowing down already?” You huff, hair sticking to your temples.
“S’not my fault you’re so…” you trail off, cheeks bright as Geto jostles inside you again. “No, go on.” He says, smirking against your throat as his tongue piercing licks a filthy stripe up the salty skin. “What am I?”
“You’re-“ you heave, “you’re… big.”
Oh, he smiles at that, piercings shimmering as he grins wickedly up at you. You don’t even realise he’s looped his hands around your waist, that he’s spread his thick thighs just a little further, until Geto’s using the excess leverage to yank you down onto his cock like a doll and you sob.
“Fuck, fuck, Geto-“ you gasp, nails cutting marks into his shoulders as you try and cling on.
“I think we’re much past the formalities by now, pretty.” He pants, tugging you closer to dig his teeth into your flesh and balm the ache with his tongue’s cooling metal ball. “Suguru works just fine.”
You try to say Suguru, you really do, but he chooses somewhere between the second and third syllable to slam his tip into your cunt and you blank. What you end up with instead, is a wanton cry of:
“Sugu-!”
He groans. “F-fuck, yeah, gorgeous.”
The underwear tangled around his base is sodden beyond repair by now, a mix of pre and slick infiltrating the fibres of the fabric and soaking it completely through until it’s barely recognisable as your panties anymore. “Sugu, Sugu, Sugu-“ it’s like your own personal mantra.
Your hand, shaky as it is, latches onto your clit and rubs frantic little circles over the nerves. It’s messy and uncoordinated but it feels so good you gasp, the noise dripping like sugar into Geto’s awaiting ears as his pace pushes you to continue.
Geto groans out small susurrations against your collarbone and chest, sucking purple marks into the soft skin. Your head tips back and your pussy pulses dramatically around him- and Geto grins.
“You close, pretty?”
“Yes, fuck, so close-“ you hear yourself whining, mascara smudged beneath your eyes. Geto’s makeup isn’t faring better- eyeliner streaks darkly across his temples as you grab his face to bring him forwards.
The kiss is nothing short of nasty- more spit and breath than lips, your tongue searching for the piercings studded across his lips and the extra sensation they add to the kiss. Geto moans lowly, a cracked little noise that echoes from his throat and into your mouth. When your fingers stutter, it’s Geto’s hand that comes down to cover you and rub harder.
You clamp down tightly around him when you cum, the orgasm overtaking all five senses until everything you feel is coated in a numbing mixture of bliss and overpowering pleasure. Geto fucks you through it, welcoming the extra tightness as his teeth dig into his lip.
When Geto finally cums, it’s messy, hot and thick- white streaks viscously down your inner thighs as you overspill, coating the ruined panties wrapped around his dick even more. His hair spills over his shoulders like water, curtaining you both as he smushes his mouth to yours again.
“Hck-“ you squeal against his tongue when he brings you in, your arms wrapping around his neck as his hands drag you closer by your hair and back. Spit drips down your lips and Geto eagerly licks it all back up.
Utterly fucked-out and ruined, you slump against his chest while Geto reaches into the pocket of his jeans, fingers curling around a plastic lighter and a packet of cigarettes. He nudges the window down just enough to let the sex-sticky humidity fade out into the night, and clicks his lighter.
The slow puff of his cigarette seems to revitalise him, eyes turning up as he smiles. You don’t even smoke, but when he wordlessly holds it out to you between two fingers you find yourself leaning forwards and chasing whatever he offers.
“My friends are probably waiting.” Your voice is embarrassingly hoarse, makeup probably obscenely ruined. And you don’t have any panties to wear, either.
“I, uh… I can’t walk back.”
Geto laughs. “Wow. It was that good?” You flush.
“Not like that-“ although, your legs are shaking. “You stole my underwear. I’m not walking back without any panties-“
Geto brushes a piece of hair from your face as you ramble. “You can stay over at mine, if you want. I’ll drive you back tomorrow.”
You should say no- but you’re tired, your legs are shaking, and he’s still buried inside you, so you find yourself agreeing.
Yuki <3
You good?
Me and Sho couldn’t find you, she said you walked off with somebody
Hope you had fun!!
If the string of drunken winking emojis is enough to go by, they aren’t exactly worried out of their minds about you and you huff. By now, you’re slumped in the passenger seat as Geto kicks the car into drive, and you snap a quick photo of his head and torso as he reverses, attaching it to the message you send Yuki.
You
Lots of fun
Be back tomorrow!
Your phone buzzes repeatedly, vibrating against your hand as the city lights blur past you, reflecting from shopfronts and puddles of water.
“Hey,” Geto says, one hand on the steering wheel and the other brushing across your thigh, “we’re playing again in two weeks. If you wanna come.”
“Wow, I have to wait a whole two weeks to see you again?” You joke, voice still strained and tired from all your previous moaning.
Geto grins, piercings shining. “Now, I didn’t say that, did I?”
ೃ࿔*:･
masterlist
a/n: his hair is gorgeous- and thank you all again!
