You’ve worn your boyfriend Sukuna to the bone, so your other boyfriend Toji takes over.
warnings. fem!reader/tojikuna, threesome, multiple orgasms, piv, kissing, creampie, overstim, ovulation, switch!toji if you squint, dom!sukuna. nsfw 18+ mdni.
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The first thing Toji noticed when he stepped through the front door was the heat. A subtle humidity lacing the air like the sweet lingering remnants of perfume. There was your lotion, sweet and familiar, and the smell of fresh sweat, layered with something primal and musky - the smell of sex.
The second thing he noticed was Sukuna, splayed over the couch like he’d just run a marathon. Tank top soaked through and sweatpants riddled with little damp patches, dotted across the fabric like stray petals. Toji’s gaze dipped without bothering to hide the way he was blatantly staring at Sukuna’s chest, at the heaving pecs peeking out from his neckline, eyes tracking the little bead of sweat beginning to trail a hot path down the center.
“What’s your problem?” Came Toji’s eventual greeting as he paused by the door, tearing his eyes away just to sling his gym bag over the hook there before continuing into the room, water bottle clasped in his hand.
Sukuna glared in reply, and if Toji were anyone else he might have actually felt intimidated by the sight. But with the way the other man was panting, pink tufts of hair stuck every which way and slicked with sweat, he didn’t paint a particularly scary image. In fact the only sensation the sight triggered within Toji was a mild amusement, alongside a tiny spark of heat low and betraying in his belly.
“I’ve already had her four times,” Sukuna grunted, “the brats insatiable.”
Toji snorted mid sip of water, eyes leaving the couch to instead peer through the half opened doorway to the bedroom, where he managed to catch only a glimpse of your bare leg through the crack. From the looks of it you were naked - splayed over the sheets, hair probably still a little damp from the shower, skin lacquered with lotion, half washed away with sweat by now.
“What, she ovulating or something?” Toji wondered aloud, lowering the bottle to once again catch Sukuna’s gaze over the metal rim.
The other man crossed his arms unceremoniously across his chest, and Toji watched the tendons jump in the winding muscle of his forearms as he shrugged.
“That or she’s in heat, damn near milked me dry.” He grumbled, brows knitted, working a mean line between them. If you were here you’d reprimand him for such an expression, crawl over the couch and run your thumb between his salmon brows until the lines wore smooth, or until Sukuna grew bored and wrapped a hand around your wrist to flip you onto the cushions instead.
Toji laughed then, the sound rough and graveled like tattered velvet.
“Seriously?” He scoffed, lips spread into a sly grin as he licked stray droplets from them, “had to tap out did ya’ Ryomen?”
Sukuna’s scowl only deepened, soured now with genuine irritation.
“Just be grateful I wore her out for you,” he spat, “and watch your tone, or it’ll be you spread eagle and whining for more cock next, Fushiguro.”
Toji chuckled again as he screwed the lid of his bottle on tight, the motion accented with a metallic ‘squeak!’ before he tossed it toward Sukuna, hard enough that he heard the fleshy impact when the other man’s hand shot out to catch it.
“Yeah yeah,” he mused, moving past the couch to instead push through the bedroom door, which creaked beneath the effort, “drink some fuckin’ water and get outta my way.”
If he were being honest, when he’d left for the gym that morning he’d been hoping for this exact scenario. Toji knew you - or at least your cycle - well enough to know that you’d wake up needy and leaking, and he knew Sukuna well enough to know he wouldn’t be able to resist the sight of you humping his thigh like a dog in heat for very long. So he’d left without a word just as the sun kissed the horizon, and he’d been half hard in his sweats since his second rep just thinking about it.
If the living room was warm, the air within the bedroom was stifling. But it wasn’t the heat or the sticky sweet scent that knocked the air from Toji’s lungs on entry, no. It was the sight of you - limbs splayed over the mattress, hair messed and wild where your head was tucked between the pillows. Your jaw lifted back far enough to expose the long column of your throat, giving Toji a stellar view of the dark sucking marks peppered there, indents of teeth that he was sure would melt into bruises by the evening.
Toji took in the sight indulgently - paused in the doorway, a lone hand already trailing its way down the curve of his stomach, teasing until his fingers curled over the bulge forming there. He squeezed once and shivered, reveling in the immediate relief that sizzled over his body like a splash of ice water.
He could feel the weight of Sukuna’s gaze piercing into the back of his skull like the promise of a snipers sight. He didn’t indulge the urge to peer over his shoulder and meet that heated gaze, instead he let his hand drop to his side and pressed a knee into the mattress.
You didn’t move, didn’t speak or even open your eyes when he crawled over the sheets, crowding your space like a panther sliding atop its snagged prey.
His hand met the curve of your waist, skin soft and warm beneath his palm, layer of sweat sticking you lightly to him. He trailed one hand downward over the curve of your belly, the other grazed feather-soft over the slopes of your breasts, pausing to pinch gently at either nipple, perked and willing in his hands.
“You’re soaked sweetheart,” he mused when his fingers finally dipped between your thighs, which gave way to him easily, spreading to make room for his forearm to slot between. He moved slowly, palming soft and teasing over your mound and listening to you mumble mindlessly below him.
You whined something unintelligible in reply, voice nothing but a high pitched whimper, crackled like shattered glass.
With a chuckle, he leaned down and craned his head until his ear rested level with your mouth.
“What’s that sweetheart?” He questioned, head tilted to listen.
You swallowed, hard and dry, and licked your lips before you spoke again. Another croaked string of words hit his ear, a touch clearer this time. He realized then that you weren’t mumbling gibberish at all, you were begging.
“More, more, need more, please ‘kuna, please jus’ one more…”
Toji chuckled and lifted his head back to study you again - he found your eyes still closed, brows now knitted into an expression that was decidedly desperate.
“Old Ryo’ couldn’t keep up, huh?” He mused, hands lifted from your body to instead press into the mattress either side of your head, leveraging the weight of him as he slotted himself properly between your thighs.
You offered a gentle huff in reply, eyelids feeling much too heavy to bother opening. Your limbs felt numb, tingling with residual little sizzles of pleasure.
“Don’t worry doll, ‘m here now.”
Toji didn’t waste time working you open or teasing you with the brush of his lips or gentle caresses, no. He simply slipped his shirt over his head and tossed it sideways. His thumb hooked over his waistband, tugged down to let his length spring free and slap hard and raw against you.
The sensation was enough to have his lips parting around a shuddered breath. You felt like heaven - like slick molten silk kissing each bumped ridge as he rutted through your swollen folds. You jolted when he shifted, hard inches rubbing over your clit, still singing with over stimulation.
He grinned and lowered a thumb to pet at your entrance, leaking slick and dribbles of what he was sure was Sukuna’s spend. He traced your rim beneath the head of his cock slowly, smearing the milky little pearls gathered there and wondering just how many loads Sukuna had managed to stuff inside you before he’d finally tapped out. The thought made his breath catch, and sent another sizzle of heat straight to his throbbing cock.
“C’mon, look at me now,” Toji cooed, watching the way any semblance of coherency on your face melted away when he finally pressed down, sinking inside with a single dizzying press of his hips - testament to just how soaked and used you really were.
It was enough to make your eyes roll behind your lids, fluttering with the delicious sting of being stretched open again. Toji treated you with shallow little thrusts. The hair at his base tickling your clit, thick veins pulsing against your rubbed raw walls where Sukuna had pounded you until you cried, until you bruised. And yet despite the pain, the ache - that needling little bud of desire still burned just as hotly as when you’d first awoken that day, stoking the fire in your belly and dribbling lava hot between your aching thighs.
“Oh, oh…” you moaned dumbly, lashes twitching as you finally lifted them and tried to blink away the layer of hazy film that had settled there. Your mind felt fuzzy, vacant. Drunk on the sensation of being stuffed utterly full once again.
“There she is,” Toji soothed.
“‘Ji, it’s you…” came your delayed greeting, nothing more than a breathy whine, “need’t cum, need to cum again, please…”
“Again?” Toji echoed in faux surprise, hips lowing to a torturous roll, “that’s a little greedy of you, don’t you think?”
“Incredibly greedy,” a distant voice interrupted, flat and deep and utterly serious.
Toji tilted his head back just enough to catch sight of Sukuna’s broad form filling the doorway, looking more like the hired security than someone who actually lived there. Toji peered through strands of ink black hair at the big hand that was beginning to dip beneath the waistband of Sukuna’s sweats, palming lazily at the considerable bulge there. Sukuna’s gaze was equally heavy and heated, lowered past the curve of Toji’s spine to track the way your hole was stretching around his thickness.
Toji swallowed, took a final glance at the sight of Sukuna beginning to work his length free from his boxers. His eyes stuck on the exposed slip of tan skin where Sukuna had tugged his shirt upward, the spatter of hair dusted there, before he turned his attention back to you.
“Haven’t even asked how my day was yet, and here you are begging me to make this needy pussy cum,” Toji teased, “and after Ryo’ took such good care of you too.”
“Please,” you cried, shaking your head furiously against the damp pillows crumpled either side of you, “please don’t tease me.”
“Aw I’m sorry sweetheart,” Toji cooed, voice dripping thick with mock concern, “you just need it real bad, huh?”
The delicate shallow thrusts he had been nursing you with suddenly shifted, turned to long pulls smacked back inside hard enough that you felt the tip of him kiss somewhere deep and delicate. Each buck had your legs quivering, and a sharp little shock of pain and pleasure in equal measure sizzling over your skin.
You were lucid enough only to know that he was moving, slow methodical thrusts that felt achingly tender. Each twitch of his worked muscle was purposeful, each motion entirely controlled and aimed to break you apart.
“Shh, just feel it. You feel me, right baby? Nice ‘n deep.” The words were sin incarnate, purred right into your ear.
You were nodding before you could think, slurring a string of unintelligible words alongside breathy cries of his name, strung together like a prayer.
“Deep… deeper…”
The scent of him was intoxicating, dizzying. The sharp sting of fresh sweat and his own familiar woody musk was enough to have you lifting your trembling legs just to hook a heel over his hip and tug him closer.
“Finally knocked all the brains outta you, huh?” Toji teased, “That’s alright, don’t need to think. Just keep squeezin’ this pretty little pussy around me, yeah?”
One of your hands fled the sheets to instead grasp at one of Toji’s bare shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle there.
“Kiss me,” you panted, blinking up at him with wide wet eyes, blown black and glossy with need, “oh, hng-… please Toji…”
Toji didn’t bother with a reply, instead he simply dipped his head and captured your lips in a kiss so sudden you barely had the wherewithal to suck in a lungful of air before he was swiping any lingering thoughts away with the hot slide of his tongue.
You melted into the touch, letting the roll of his jaw guide your movements - moaning in surprise when his teeth nipped at your cracked lower lip, your grip on his shoulder tightening when his tongue met yours.
When you finally split apart you were sufficiently softened by the blend of his sweet kisses and the steady rock of his hips, brain humming quietly like the static of a tv set to a dead channel.
“Good?” Toji questioned, head tilting.
You just nodded, struggling to keep you gaze affixed on the inky strands of hair slipping over Toji’s forehead, that was until a sudden blur of colour crept into the edge of your vision.
“Oi, what are you?-…”
You watched, motion a little delayed, as Sukuna’s hand slid across the back of Toji’s neck. Toji’s eyes widened an inch, looking genuinely shocked for just a moment before Sukuna’s grip tightened, firm hand forcing his head upward until they finally met in a rough crashing of lips.
Peering up you simply watched, entranced, at the slide of pink tongue between sticky sweet flutters of your lashes. Eyes caught on the way Toji’s brows lifted and his hips stuttered just a little when Sukuna’s hand tightened into a fist at his nape, strands of silky black hair sticking wayward through his thick fingers.
Toji grunted into the kiss, rougher now - a tumble of teeth and tongue in stark contrast to the slow rhythm of the embrace you had shared. One of Toji’s hands curled over your hip, thumb mindlessly tracing the bone there. The other found Sukuna’s chest, grasping a handful of fabric before he was shoving the other man backwards.
You watched a glittering thread of spit link them for a moment before it split, and you must have clenched at the obscene sight because Toji made a choked sound above you, falling into the sensation a little like he were suddenly made of jelly.
“Fuck sweetheart,” he panted, lips glossed as he dug a fist into the mattress beside your head, “that’s it, just like that.”
His thrusts didn’t slow or soften, but they felt sloppier somehow, and when you blinked upward you realized why. Sukuna had stepped in behind Toji, plump chest pressed to his back, massive hand still curled around his nape, thumb rubbing soothing little shapes there. His head turned inward, lips pressed to the delicate little strip behind Toji’s ear, breathing so close you could see the speckle of goosebumps begin to prickle over Toji’s skin.
“C’mon Fushiguro,” Sukuna purred, quiet enough that you could barely hear the sweet syrupy words, “don’t get soft on me now.”
Dazed, you watched Sukuna raise a spare hand to his lips, thumb pressed against tongue beneath the glint of pearly canines before he reached past Toji’s hips and tucked it between your thighs. You jerked at the sudden contact, the searing heat of his slick thumb, calloused and rough and perfect against your abused clit.
“Bastard…” Toji gritted, breaths coming ragged now, panting between barely masked grunts of pleasure as his head dipped beneath the weight of the palm at his nape. His gaze was glassy, glued to where you were clamping around him, where your slick was painting the dark curls at his belly white.
Sukuna only grinned in reply, and you could hear the lazy glee lacing his tone with his next words, thumb still rolling over your twitching nub as you writhed beneath his touch.
“Go on now,” he rumbled, low and filthy over the shell of Toji’s ear, and you swore you felt Toji twitch in response. “make the pretty girl cum.”
You could feel it, the looming buzz of your orgasm, curling like the crest of a wave, hot and tight in your belly like the slow cinching of a knot.
“Close ‘ji…’m close,” you slurred, “gonna… hn!- ‘m gonna…”
“I’m right here sweetheart,” Toji was groaning now, shivering a little as the hand at his nape tightened once more. His thrusts were wild - wide sloppy pumps driven haphazardly into the slick mess between your thighs. Sukuna’s thumb continued its assault, drawing steady heart shapes over your clit, right above where Toji was busy splitting you open.
“C’mon princess,” Toji pleaded, words accented with a kicking throb that you felt all the way in your gut, “give it to me.”
You let your eyelids fall shut, squeezed tightly against the way your vision was beginning to blur at the edges. Senses dulled, sounds and scents becoming more and more distant with each second of rising pleasure until suddenly the knot snapped, and you were unraveling along with it.
Toji cursed somewhere beyond the numbed blackness of your senses, and alongside it you felt a flood of heat and the familiar twitching pulse of him as he filled you. Firm hands gripped your waist like an anchor, holding you in place as you squirmed against his final stuttered humps, wracked with unending wave after wave of white hot pleasure.
“Shh, that’s it, that’s a good girl…” Toji was cooing into your ear, forehead pressed to the pillow, only hair tickling your cheek.
The words were a salve, a balm smoothed over your mind until all that was left was the honeyed buzz of pleasure.
You sucked in a shaky breath and realized along with it that you were crying, cheeks soaked and salted with fresh tears. You let your limbs fall, limp and exhausted against the sheets. A subtle ache was beginning to settle in your muscles, in your bones, and yet beneath it all you still felt it - that itch deep inside, like an unending, desirous pit.
“More…” you croaked, voice utterly broken despite your pleading.
Toji scoffed somewhere above you - sounding equal parts shocked and proud at your incessant appetite. You heard the distant thump of approaching footfalls, followed by the telltale creak of a knee digging into the mattress before the bed was dipping beneath a considerable weight, and you felt Toji slip out with a slick sucking sound.
“Move Fushiguro, think I just got my second wind.”
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a/n: kinda ahhh drabble while I work on longer fics bc I’m stuck thinking about tojikuna, hope you enjoy anyway <3
synopsis : starting gym shouldn't be a big deal. unfortunately, neither should the pretty girl smiling at Toji. or the way she keeps touching him. or the fact that you've spent the entire day thinking about it. apparently, jealousy looks terrible on you.
You stood in front of the mirror, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, eyes narrowing at your reflection as you tilted your body left and right. You walked out of your room making a beeline towards Geto who was lounging in the couch.
“...Suguu,” you called out softly, brows furrowed. He glanced up from his book on the couch, instantly alert at your tone.
“Hmm?”
“Do I look… uhmm… fat?”
Geto blinked once, then set the book down with a small sigh. “Nope. Why, baby?”
“I just…” your fingers squeezed your waist, “...I feel like I’ve gotten chubby.”
Before Geto could say anything, Toji’s voice rang from the hallway. “The fuck is wrong with that?” he grunted, strolling in shirtless, hair damp from a shower. “More for me to grab.”
You flushed instantly, face burning as your mouth opened and closed like a fish. “I didn’t… I mean–”
Toji smirked like he’d won something. “You ain't fat. But you keep sayin’ dumb shit like that and I’ll make sure you can’t walk for a week.”
“Toji,” Geto sighed, but you were already a flustered mess.
“Can I… join the gym you train at?”
Toji raised a brow, towel slung over his neck. “If you’re sayin’ that ‘cause you think you’re fat, ain’t takin’ you.”
You shifted on your feet, chewing your lip. “But if I just… wanna get stronger? Maybe more stamina?”
He tilted his head like he was sizing you up, then grinned. “Hmm that's nice... If you’ve got more strength, I don’t gotta hold back, y’know.”
"Tojiii... youuu!!!"
“Good girl,” he muttered, giving your ass a smack making you squeak and red as Geto chuckled.
You hugged Toji quickly, mumbling a thank you before scampering off to your room. where, unsurprisingly, Gojo had already invaded your bed. He was curled up hugging your plushie like it was a lifeline, nose buried into it.
“Satoru…?”
“Mhmm?” he cracked open one icy blue eye and grinned. “You smell like heaven. Don’t leave me ever.”
“I won't,” you laughed, sitting beside him. “Will you come help me shop for gym clothes?”
That, apparently, was the magic phrase.
“YOU’RE GOING TO THE GYM?!” he practically flew out of your bed. “I need to supervise. I’m coming.”
You shouldn’t have asked. At the store, it was a disaster. Gojo was yanking crop tops off hangers, tossing booty shorts into your arms, dramatically flinging sparkly sports bras over your head.
“Satoru!!” you hissed, holding a pair of tiny shorts like they were radioactive. “I can’t wear this to the gym!”
“Why not?” he pouted. “It’ll keep the boys away ‘cause they’ll know you’re already taken.”
“Th...that doesn't even make any sense. They’ll stare.”
“Let them!” he said proudly. “Let them die from jealousy!”
Thankfully, Geto came to the rescue, offering you a few sleek, modest and comfortable sets in earthy tones. “These look good. functional too.”
You smiled sweetly, relieved. “Thank you, suguru.”
Gojo looked betrayed. “Okay, what is this? Everyone ignoring me. I bring spice to your life and all I get is disrespect.”
Back home, Gojo plopped onto the bed while you laid out your new clothes on them. “I’m gonna miss you when you're gone,” he said, pressing his face into your thigh.
“I’ll only be gone for a few hours,” you giggled, stroking his hair.
“Exactly. Too long.”
***
The next morning, you stepped out in your brand new gym clothes, shorts hugging your hips, a tight sports bra, and a loose T-shirt thrown on top. you felt a little silly, but excited.
Geto handed you a gym bag with a smile. “Water bottle. Banana. Trail mix. Text me if you need anything.”
“Thank you…” you hugged him, touched by the thoughtfulness.
Nanami appeared, kissed your cheek gently. “Call me if anything’s off. Anything.”
Toji, who had just walked out from the kitchen munching on something, scoffed. “She’s with me, jackass.”
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Nanami deadpanned, adjusting his tie.
“Yeah, yeah.” Toji stuffed the last of the bread into his mouth. “Let’s go, doll.”
He took a helmet for you and slung an arm over your shoulders, steering you out the door. You couldn't even wave goodbye before he led you to his black bike. He handed you the helmet and straddled the seat.
“Get on,” he said. “Gotta hold tight though. Might go fast.”
You obeyed without a second thought, sliding on behind him and wrapping your arms around his torso.
“Like a fuckin’ koala,” he muttered, shaking his head fondly. “If I feel your tits pressin’ into me one more time I can't promise if I'm gonna crash us into a wall.”
“Shut up toji!!” you squeaked, as he laughed loud and revived the engine.
“Hold on, princess. Let’s go build that stamina of yours.”
***
Gym smelled like sweat and steel, music pumping through the speakers as you stepped inside with Toji beside you. Instantly, heads turned.
“Yo, toji !”
“Morning, fushiguro!”
“Spot me first, yeah?!”
He grunted a few responses, barely sparing them a glance, his hand sliding down to your lower back possessively. Everyone knew him. He was the best trainer in the gym. Big, broad and confident, the type of man people admired and secretly drooled over.
“All right, baby,” he said, tossing a towel over his shoulder. “Let’s see what that soft little body can handle.”
You swallowed hard as he started guiding you through the beginner routines. But the man couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Every “correction” involved groping, his calloused fingers brushing your inner thighs, his palm flat on your lower belly, adjusting your hips with a grip that lingered.
“Stretch, bend… yeah, like that,” he murmured behind you. You bent forward and thump.
You gasped, feeling the unmistakable pressure of his bulge nudging against your core. “Toji…” you whined, cheeks burning.
“What?” he feigned innocence, rocking his hips just slightly. “Form’s gotta be perfect, baby.”
Your knees trembled. He let out a chuckle and finally pulled back. After teasing you within an inch of sanity, he finally let you catch your breath, handing you a water bottle. “Walk on the treadmill for a while, yeah? gotta see a couple of clients.”
You nodded, slightly dazed, and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your neck followed by a sharp bite.
“Don’t miss me too much,” he smirked, walking off.
You walked slowly, sweat sliding down your back as you tried to focus on the rhythm of your steps. You took a sip of water, cheeks warm. That’s when you heard someone giggling. You turned slightly and there she was.
Toned thighs, tight gym shorts, sports bra hugging a perfect figure. Her ponytail bounced as she smiled up Toji. He stood beside her, adjusting her posture, saying something too low for you to hear. She laughed again, arm brushing against his. His hands were on her hips, not in a dirty way but just there, showing her how to move, how to hold the stretch. Still, she leaned in too much. Her fingers brushed his bicep under the pretense of balance. Her eyes didn’t leave his mouth when he spoke.
You knew it was part of his job but it stung. Hard. You looked away. Swallowed and then looked again. And that was it.
“Tojiii,” you called, loud enough to carry. His head snapped to you instantly.
“Yeah, doll?” he jogged over, concern furrowing his brows. “You okay? Tired?”
You shook your head quickly. “I wanna go home.”
He blinked, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Doll, … I work here, yeah? Got that girl to train—she’s one of my regular clients. And those two too—” he nodded toward a couple of girls lifting weights across the floor. You nodded slowly, eyes flicking back to the girl who was still watching him.
“I’ll book ya a cab, hmm?” he said gently, pulling his phone out. “Call me when you get back.”
You stepped back and reached for your towel from his hands. “I don’t need a cab. I’ll call suguru.”
His brows drew together slightly. “Huh? wait—”
But you’d already turned, walking toward your bag without looking back. Outside, the cool air stung your skin. You dialed Geto with shaky fingers.
“Honey?” he answered on the first ring. “Done already?”
“Suguu… can you pick me up?”
He was there in ten minutes. You didn’t say a word, just climbed into the passenger seat and pulled your knees up to your chest. He didn’t press. But when he glanced over at the red in your eyes, his jaw tightened. He drove you home in silence, hand resting protectively on your knee. He dropped you home, a kiss to your cheeks then drove off to work.
***
You didn’t have class today. And yet the whole day felt heavier than usual. You tried to read, tried to write, maybe even clean your room but your thoughts kept spiraling back to the image of that girl at the gym. He let her touch him. Let her press up close, even if it was all part of the damn job. You hated that it mattered so much. Hated that he was still at the gym right now. Still surrounded by girls like that.
Eventually, the weight of it made you curl into bed and sleep the day away, your chest tight and mind restless. Evening came. The apartment door clicked open. You stirred only when you heard the shower running. You moved to the couch with the plushie Gojo bought you once. A few minutes later, warm arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you gently from the couch into a lap that was all peace and safety.
Nanami smelled like cedarwood and clean skin. His damp hair brushed your cheek as he kissed your temple. "How was your day, sweetheart?" he asked, voice low and smooth.
“I… just slept,” you mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, voice barely audible.
He tilted your chin with two fingers. “All day?”
You nodded up at him. "Yeah..."
He hummed. “And how was the gym?”
Your face faltered before you could stop it. Your eyes dropped. You hated that he noticed it instantly.
"What's wrong, love?"
"Nothing," you whispered too fast, trying to turn away.
His voice turned firm. “What happened?”
“I-it's nothing serious—really.”
“Did Toji do something to you?”
Your head snapped up, panic flashing. “No! no, nothing like that—he didn’t—he didn’t do anything.”
Nanami narrowed his eyes slightly. “Then talk to me. What is it?”
You exhaled shakily and looked down again. And then, in a quiet, hesitant voice, you finally let it spill.
“It’s just… at the gym… when toji left me to go train someone else, there was this girl, she was really pretty and she kept touching him and smiling at him and… I know it’s his job but… I felt… so stupid.”
Your voice broke a little as you reached the end, cheeks flushed with shame. Nanami didn’t speak for a second. he just tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and kissed your temple again.
“Sweetheart,” he murmured. “He’s a trainer. That’s what he does. It's nothing to worry about.” he smiled.
You nodded reluctantly. “But she was touching him. On the arms. And her laugh was like… flirty. She likes toji. I know it.”
He raised a brow. "Oh? she likes him?"
You nodded, like complaining.
“And who does toji love?”
Your lips parted. "Wh-what?"
"I asked who does toji and all of us love, hmm?"
You blinked, dumbfounded. “…Me?”
“Exactly.”
He kissed your cheek, your jaw, then lower, down your neck. “You're our girl, yeah?” he whispered, breath warm.
You giggled softly, heat rushing to your chest. His hands moved up under your shirt. “That’s more like it,” he murmured, thumbing your nipple. “My pretty girl getting all upset over this… adorable.”
Before you could respond, the front door opened.
"I'm home," came Geto's familiar voice from the hallway.
You froze in Nanami’s lap as Geto stepped into the living room, a little strand of his hair damp from sweat. His eyes landed on you, then narrowed slightly when he saw where you were.
“Well, well,” he drawled, walking over and crouching beside the couch. “I don’t get this greeting?” he leaned in and kissed your lips gently, fingers brushing your knee. “How was the gym, baby?”
You flinched slightly, eyes darting to Nanami. He chuckled when you gave him a pleading look—please don’t tell him. Nanami raised his brow. “Should I not say?”
You shook your head so fast it was almost embarrassing. “Nooo...!”
Geto's brows pulled together as he looked between you and Nanami. “Okay, what'd I miss?”
A quiet laugh escaped Nanami as he shook his head. “She's been sulking all day,” he said, “ranting to me about this girl at the gym who was looking at toji.”
“Nanamin!”
The realization dawned on Geto almost immediately, the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “Ohh,” he hummed. “You were jealous, baby?” he teased, tilting his head. “Over toji?”
“I-I wasn’t! I mean—no!”
Nanami leaned in, his palm resting on your thigh again. “Oh, you should’ve seen her. Face all scrunched up the whole time.”
Geto’s hands joined his, trailing up your other leg. “You poor baby,” he murmured. “Did he stretch her out too? like he do to you before he fucks you dumb?”
Your mouth fell open, mortified. “S-stop! You two are being mean…”
They both leaned in, trapping you in the heat of their bodies. “You like when we’re mean,” Geto said softly, licking your pulse point.
“I’m not jealous,” you stammered, pushing at their chests feebly.
“Oh?” Nanami smirked. “Then why are you shaking like that, hmm?”
“I-I’m not!”
“I think you are,” Geto grinned at you. “Should we call toji, tell him how you’re acting like a brat over him?”
“Noooo! you can't...” you squeaked, face burning. You shoved them both lightly and scrambled off Nanami’s lap, your heart thumping. “I’m not jealous!” you insisted, running toward your room and slamming the door shut behind you. You could hear their soft laughs echo behind the door.
“She’s definitely jealous,” Nanami said.
“Agree, agree.” Geto replied.
And you were behind the door, cheeks on fire and your heart thumping like crazy.
***
Toji came home a little later than usual, sweat clinging to his skin, hair a little damp, gym bag slung over his shoulder. You didn’t greet him like you normally did. Didn’t even look up from the couch when he walked past. Not a smile, not a “welcome home.” Just silence.
He noticed. Ohh, he definitely noticed.
The first time he passed you, he let it slide. Maybe you were tired. Maybe you didn’t hear him. The second time, when he tossed his bag on the chair and asked, “You eat anything yet?”, and you just mumbled a “yeah” without even turning your head, his jaw ticked. When you pulled away from his touch later saying you were “not in the mood” he snapped.
And the next thing you knew, Toji’s hand was gripping your wrist as he dragged you inside your room, slamming it shut behind him.
“The fuck is wrong with you today?” he barked, pushing you gently but firmly toward the bed. “Been giving me this cold-ass shoulder since morning.”
You swallowed hard, eyes wide.
“Didn’t call when you got home,” he said, voice rising. “Didn’t reply to a single fuckin’ text. Didn’t pick up any of my calls. You just walked out the gym and vanished. And now you’re actin’ like I did something?”
“Toji, I—”
“No, you don’t get to shut me out like this without telling me what the fuck is wrong.” He stepped closer, hands on either side of your waist, pinning you in place. His eyes scanned your face, furious but confused, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling too fast.
Your lower lip trembled, eyes getting wet. “You’re scaring me…”
Toji froze when he saw your face changes. “Shit. No, No—fuck.” He ran a hand through his hair, stepping back. “Don’t—don’t cry. Fuck, don’t do that. Didn’t mean to yell. Shit. I didn’t even do anything, why are you crying like that?”
“You’re.... so mean,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I hate you.”
You pushed at his chest with both hands, stumbling out of his grip, hot tears streaking down your cheeks. Before he could react, you ran straight to the living room, where Nanami was reading on the couch. You threw yourself into his arms, sobbing into his chest. He held you without question, his arms secure around your waist, hand soothing your back.
Toji came after you, of course. Stopping at the hallway, panting, looking genuinely wrecked.
“The fuck happened to her?” he demanded, eyes narrowing at Nanami. “She said I’m mean. What did I even do? She’s never called me that, not even when I was bullying her cunt like—”
“Toji.” Nanami cut him off, calm but sharp. “For the love of God, don’t finish that sentence.”
Toji blinked, then rubbed his temples. “I didn’t even fuckin’ do anything…”
Geto strolled in just in time to hear the tail end of it, sipping on something cold. He glanced between the three of you and smirked.
“Toji,” he said with a chuckle, “You might wanna consider a career change if this is how it’s going.”
“What?” Toji blinked again, clearly not following. Then it clicked. “Oh.” his voice dropped into a knowing growl. “Ohhhh.....”
He started laughing, low and sharp. Cruel in how accurate it was. “That’s what this was about?” he pointed toward you. “That girl today?”
You didn’t answer, face buried in Nanami’s chest, fists clenched in his shirt.
Toji walked over with purpose. “You really got all bratty over that stuck-up cardio chick? Baby, that’s work. That ain’t fun.” He grabbed you by the waist, prying you from Nanami’s lap like you weighed nothing.
“Toji—let go!” you squealed, trying to fight him off.
“You wanna cry? fine. You can cry on my cock,” he snarled.
He carried you toward your room, ignoring your squirming, ignoring the way Geto was cackling behind him, ignoring Nanami’s slow exhale and murmured, “Toji. Don't be so hard on her.”
He dropped you on the bed, crawling over you, his big frame caging you in. You thought he was gonna fuck you mean out of anger. Instead, he pulled your shorts down and nudged your legs apart, slowly running the thick length of his cock up and down your folds not pushing in.
Your eyes widened. “Toji—”
“Shh,” he cut in, voice smooth and dark. “Let me ask you something, baby.”
His cock slid through your slick folds again, dragging right over your clit. You gasped, trying to close your thighs but his hand pushed them back open. “Want me to put it in?”
You swallowed thickly, face burning, unable to speak. He chuckled, slow and mean. “Just the tip, yeah? That’ll shut your jealous little head up?” he lined himself up and rubbed the tip right against your entrance without pushing in. “That enough to make you forget about her?”
You whimpered, hips twitching.
“No?” he murmured, kissing your throat, teasing the head of his cock at your tight entrance again, not entering. “Want me to really fuck it in? want it deep, or you just want the tip like a good little slut?”
You squirmed, unable to form any words, shaking your head.
“Don’t want the tip?” he smirked, hand sliding under your shirt, palming your tits. “Then what do you want, baby? want me to fuck it in deep and ruin that jealous little cunt so you remember who you belong to?”
“I—I’m sorry—”
“Sorry?” he cooed mockingly. “Sorry for what, sweetheart?" he slides his cock up your folds teasing.
"Sorry for saying you hate me?" another grind.
"Or sorry for not calling?" he rolls his hips again.
"Or sorry for being a pouty, bratty, little thing?”
“…All of it…” you whispered, breath hitching.
Toji’s eyes softened just for a second. Then he shoved the tip in. Just barely. Enough to make you jolt and moan. He groaned. “Tight little hole. Fuck, missed this cock, huh?”
You nodded desperately. “Please—Toji…”
He smirked, sliding in just another inch. “Gonna take it back now? that thing you said earlier?”
Your heart stuttered. “I—I didn’t mean it—” another push. “I don’t hate you—!”
“Then what do you feel, huh?”
“I—” you choked out, tears spilling again, “I love you—I love you, Toji, please—!”
He chuckled, finally burying himself all the way in one slow, punishing thrust. “Yeah. that’s my girl,” he whispered. “Now tell me… who’s my good baby?”
“Ahhh.... me,” you gasped.
He pulled out slowly and slammed back in. “Say it again.”
“Me—!”
“Who’s the one who gets all my love and kisses?”
“Me—!”
“Who’s the little thing bouncing on my cock every night?”
You sobbed, head spinning. “That's—!”
He smirked, licking a stripe up your cheek like a reward. “That’s what I thought.”
And just like that, he grabbed your hips and started fucking you for real. Deep, slow thrusts, each one sealing every filthy word inside you. Toji grinned down at you, his cock still twitching inside, his body hot and heavy as he leaned in, voice smug and low against your cheek.
“Jealous little bunny, huh?” he murmured, dragging his thumb along your bottom lip. “Gets all possessive for me? Hmm? Love me that much?”
You nodded furiously, lips parted, breath shaky.
“Oh? Thought you hated me?” he teased, voice dipping as he nipped at your throat. “Didn’t you say that, huh?”
“S-so… sorry,” you whimpered, clutching at his shoulders. “Won’t say it again… I– I love you…”
He hummed, pleased, his cock grinding just a little deeper. “Is that so?”
“Y-yeah…”
“Then… wanna mark me up?” he smirked.
“What?”
“To show that gym chick not to fuck with me, yeah?” he murmured, dragging your hand over his bare chest. “Come on, mark me up like a good little bunny. Start with my neck.”
Your eyes widened, but he tilted his head, baring his thick throat. “Come on,” he growled softly. “Bite me.”
You leaned in, sinking your teeth gently into his skin. He chuckled low. “Oh? you can do better than that. Bite harder, baby—gotta show her, hmm?”
You obeyed, a little harder this time.
“Good girl,” he groaned, voice roughening. “Now my arms. Come on, leave marks everywhere they can see. You want them to see, don’t you?”
Your lips trembled as you nodded and leaned in again. Toji just grinned, letting you claim him. He slowed his thrusts, just enough for you to breathe barely, his chest heaving, your body trembling under his. One of his big hands gripped your jaw, tilting your teary, fucked-out face up to meet his eyes.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured, voice low and filthy against your lips. “Next time you feel jealous, you tell me, yeah?”
You nodded weakly, barely able to keep your eyes open. he smirked, cock still buried deep inside you.
“I’ll make sure to fuck the jealousy right outta you. Every single time.”
free use bsf!sukuna gets annoyed when you touch yourself. fem!reader, dom!sukuna. nsfw 18+ mdni drabble. mlist
──── ୨୧ ────
You didn’t know what the dream was even about, recalling only the disembodied tangle of limbs and a slick warmth blooming low and hot in your belly.
All you did know when you were finally tugged back into consciousness was that you were panting, sharp humid breaths huffed into the crook of your drool slathered arm, and that you were soaked.
“Shit…” you cursed, whisper barely audible in the silent room.
Still drunk with sleep, you shifted, shoving an arm unceremoniously between the heat of your body and the couch cushions below, teasing downward until your fingers hit their target, and your eyes rolled behind fluttering lashes.
You grinded slowly, sinking back into that delicious fuzzy heat - listening to your own stuttered breaths and the crinkle of leather beneath you. Each creak sounded deafening in the still silence of night, and your pulse jumped with the shame of what you were doing and the vague memory of where you were.
Not that it stopped you, or did anything to cool the white-hot lust swirling in your belly. No, it only made you bite your forearm pitifully, a vein attempt to muffle the desperate little noises slipping free.
“Brat.”
Now that gave you pause.
You lay frozen in the dark, blinking wildly at the shadowed bulk on the couch opposite you, trembling hand still tucked into your slick panties. Maybe you’d imagined it, the gruff, familiar voice of your best friend curling out from the darkness.
But Sukuna wasn’t stupid, it wouldn’t have taken a detective to figure out what you were doing. Not with all the frantic breathing and the half muffled moans barely caught by the damp fabric of your pillow.
“Sorry,” you swallowed a thick, dry breath before you continued, “just needed to… uh…”
The lump on the sofa across from you began to shift, and you realised as your eyes slowly adjusted that he was rising to his feet, slipping free from the sheets with a low groan and a few muted cracks.
You followed suit, pulling yourself to your elbows before a sharp and disappointed tut made you stop.
“Stay where you are,” came the short command, “don’t move.”
After a moment of pause, you acquiesced and settled back onto your belly, arms outstretched to clutch your pillow beneath your chin.
Sukuna approached without another word, a broad shadow eclipsing your vision until you felt the delicate thrum of fingers dancing along your lower back.
“Hips up.”
Your pulse raced, that familiar sticky heat licking up your neck at the sternness of his tone. When you complied, he shoved a pillow beneath your hipbones, forcing your spine into a severe arch.
“Good.”
Thick fingers hooked over your waistband, tugging your sleep shorts down with little effort. You shivered against the cool kiss of air for only a moment before you were blanketed by his body heat as he settled into place behind you. There was the barely audible shuffle of clothing in the still silence before you felt him - the grind of thick inches pressed against you, hard and raw.
“Deep breath,” he murmured, waiting to hear the shaky pull of air from your lips before he finally nudged inside.
He sunk in slowly, let you map each pulsing vein stretching your tight heat until you felt the delicate tickle of hair at his base, and your eyes rolled back.
“Oh… S’kuna…” you breathed, a whiny little exhale slurred where your cheek was pressed against the pillow.
He hit deep like this, so deep that with each breath you could feel him poking incessantly at what could have been your stomach for all you knew. It was stunning, enough to make your thighs tremble and a spineless little moan escape you.
He gave no reply, just slipped out a few dizzying inches before pressing back inside with a wet sucking slap. He set a steady pace, not rushed or particularly delicate - firm and intentional, just like everything he did.
“Don’t know why you insist on touching yourself like that,” he grunted, head craned so that you could feel the puff of his breath against your sweat-soaked nape with each accusatory syllable, “when you’ve got a perfectly good cock right here.”
As if to prove his point, his thrusts slowed - firm deep pumps pulled all the way out only to sink back inside with a force that pulled a broken little sound from your throat.
His voice was low and serious, still thick with sleep as he worked you open with the practised roll of his hips. The weight of his words sent a little tremor of need through you, and you heard him curse when you clenched around his length.
“Didn’t -hn-… want to wake you…” you panted, tongue slipping on the words as your brain gave in to the fuzzy haze of pleasure beginning to settle over you.
Each nudge earned a sticky slap, heavy balls smacking against your creamy cunt as he took you apart, fucked you into the couch in a mean prone bone.
“Don’t be stupid. It’s yours,” He grunted, hips pressed snug into a mean grind that had little blinking stars dancing in the blackness behind your eyes. “So use it, whenever you want.”
His bluntness, alongside the kiss of his cockhead against your cervix made you writhe desperately, tenfold when with the next rock of his hips you felt the slick sheen of the leather sofa graze your tender clit.
Your brain was foggy, swirling with obscene images of waltzing into his room whenever you pleased, tugging down his sweats and settling down onto his fat cock like you belonged there, using him like a toy who’s only purpose was to get you off.
“You… hn-… you mean it?” You sniffled, cheek smushed to the side just to throw a desperate glance over your shoulder.
“Fuck, of course I do,” he growled, breaths coming a little frantic now, “I’ve said it before haven’t I? My hands, my mouth, my fucking thigh if you want.”
Knuckles dug into the couch cushions either side of your head, and his lips grazed your throat, the shell of your ear, the delicate hair curling at the nape of your neck.
“So I don’t want to see you touching this needy little pussy again. No toys, no fingers, no humping the goddamn pillow, got it?”
You buried your face between your arms and nodded limply, sinking into the sheets, feeling less and less lucid with each targeted buck.
“That’s a good girl,” came the last purred words before you finally tripped over the edge.
18+ your older boyfriend tojis first time eating you out from the back...♡ (toji x chubby!reader)
you didnt expect it to feel like this.
your legs felt unsteady as you rose from the floor, the carpet rough against your knees before you were upright. toji didnt give you a moment to find your balance. his hands, rough and scarred, gripped your waist, spinning you around with a force that made your head spin, and suddenly you were facing the worn leather couch.
"bend over," he grunted, the command low against your back.
your heart hammered against your ribs, the rythm matching the throbbing between your thighs. you hesitated, clutching the hem of your t shirt, but toji didnt have patience for tou to hesitate.
he pressed a heavy hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you forward until your stomach hit the leather armrest. the couch dipped a little under your weight, the smell of old smoke and musk filling your nose.
"ass up," he ordered, kicking your feet apart with his boot.
you gasped, stumbling slightly but catching yourself on the cushion. the position left you completely exposed, the cool air in the hotel room brushing against your wet heat.
you felt vulnerable, your chubby thighs trembling as you tried to hold the pose. you shift nervously because you knew what you looked like from this angle, soft and overflowing, nothing like the hardened man standing behind you.
"look at that," toji muttered, his voice thick with appreciation. "all this soft ass."
his large palms cupped your cheeks, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. he handled you like he owned you, his fingers digging into the generous flesh. you felt the rough callouses on his skin catching against your sensitive thighs, sending shivers racing up your spine.
"..please." you whimpered, not even sure what you were asking for.
toji just hushed you, kneeling behind you.
"gonna take care of this."
the first touch of his tongue against you was already too much. he flattened his tongue against your clit and licked a broad, wet stripe up to your dripping entrance. your knees nearly buckled at the sensation, a broken moan tearing from your throat.
you moaned, burying your face in the leather cushion to muffle the sound.
toji didnt like that, he grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling your head back sharply.
he dove back in, his face burying itself between your legs. this was a man starving, toji ate you out, his mouth hot and demanding. he sucked your folds into his mouth, his tongue probing inside you, tasting every inch of your arousal.
the noises were obscene, all wet, squelching sounds filled the room, echoing off the cheap wallpaper. toji was groaning into your flesh, low vibrations that traveled straight through your clit. he sounded like he was enjoying a meal, grunting and humming as he devoured you.
"tastes so fuckin' good," he mumbled, his words muffled against your mound. "sweet little pussy."
your mind was almost blank. his nose rubbed against your cheek as he tilted his head to suck on your clit, a sensation that made you gasp and clench around nothing. he didnt seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to love it, pressing his face deeper, smothering himself in your softness.
toji panted, coming up for air for a split second before diving back in. "drippin all over me, huh."
his hands held you open, his thumbs spreading your labia wide so he could fuck you with his tongue. hed not shaved in a bit, so you could feel the faint stubbme on his chin scratching your skin, a delicious friction that only heightened the intensity. he was relentless, lashing at your clit with rapid flicks of his tongue before sucking it hard into his mouth.
you were trembling uncontrollably now, your fingers gripping the chair until your knuckles turned white. the pressure was building, a tight coil in your stomach that just grew tighter with every pass of his tongue.
"too much...," you cried out, your voice breaking.
"aint too much," he rasped, his breath hot against your wet flesh.
he doubled down, his movements becoming more aggressive.
he was slurping loudly, unconcerned with how messy he was making it. spit and arousal dripped down your thighs, coating his face, and you could feel it running, sticky and warm.
"gonna make a mess of this pussy," he grunted, biting down gently on the inside of your thigh.
you cried out, your hips bucking back against his face instinctively. toji chuckled, the sound vibrating through you. he liked your neediness, he liked how desperate you were for his mouth.
"grind on it," he says. "use my face."
you were embarrassed, your face burning hot, but you couldnt deny him.
you moved your hips, rocking back against his tongue. the friction was incredible, his chin rough against your sensitive skin while his tongue fucked into you. you were riding his face, lost in the sheer filthiness of the act.
toji groaned loudly, encouraging you. "yeah. just like that. fuckin' suffocate me with it."
he reached up, one hand sliding around to grip your belly, pulling you back harder against his mouth. the possessiveness of the gesture made your head spin. the contrast between his hard, muscular body and your soft, plush figure was there, and it seemed to drive him wild.
your breath hitched, your toes curling in the carpet.
"...close," you managed to gasp out.
toji didnt slow down. If anything, he got nastier. he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard, his tongue fluttering rapidly against the bundle of nerves. at the same time, he slipped his thumb inside you, curling it upward to find that spot that made you see stars.
"come on," he growled, the vibrations against your clit pushing you to the brink. "give it to me. soak my face."
your body seized up, your back arching as the orgasm ripped through you. you moaned his name, your vision whitening out as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. you could hear yourself making sounds you didnt know you were capable of, high and completely unfiltered.
toji didnt stop.
he drank you down, his tongue lapping up your release as it flooded out of you. he grunted in satisfaction, his grip on your hips bruising as he held you in place while you rode out the aftershocks.
finally, when you slumped forward against the couch, unable to hold yourself up any longer, he pulled back. you felt cold instantly, missing the heat of his mouth.
he pressed one last kiss to your clit, settling back with a low huff of laughter, your body still slumped against the couch.
Synopsis. Your boyfriend’s in his rút? No worries! Of course, you’re there to help.
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, omégaverse AU, alpha!JJK men, RÚTS, knóts, bréeding, ínnappropriate use of jujutsu techniques, jealousy (Toji’s side), slight fóodplay (Nanami), making Sukuna BREAK, cúmplay, spítting, PÚSSYDRUNK JJK MEN, mentions of kids, true form Sukuna, dp, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 5.9k
A/N. Last day of k!nktober, this month was lovely and so were y’all.
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Mine, doll.
Truthfully, you shouldn’t even be here - you shouldn’t have dared to step through Toji’s firmly shut door for a reason.
Because he’d already warned you he wasn’t going to be himself once his rut hit, already musing that your cute lil’ self won’t be able to keep up with him this day. This week.
Yet, here you were - folded into such a mean mating press.
“Toji.” you’re hiccuping when he furiously fists the thickened base of his cock, giving one, two tight squeezes before drooling out in stringy wads of cum from the reddish divot on his fat head, smearing your puffy folds in a sweltering white, white gloss. “D-don’t be such a hngh- tease-”
And he can only grin, “Shoulda thought of that before ya came up hah- begging for my cock, doll.” Tapping the hot curve of his still-hard tip in a sopping wet thwack! thwack! thwack! on your puffed-up clit. You’re watching with glassy eyes as his thick thumb smears over the milky dredges of cum. Popping it shamelessly into his mouth, “Because this pretty pussy is mine now, ma.”
Just the thought has him wrenching out an animalistic groan. Using his inhuman strength to haul you even further down the sinfully soaked silken sheets, he throws your trembly legs over two broad, sculpted shoulders.
You moan and Toji can’t help but snicker. Can’t help but throw his head back with a sleazy grin, “I t-told ya not to catch me like this, needy girl.” Eyes glowing, dragging that pert scar of his smugly down the side of your ankle, before plugging you full- “Now, jus’ sit back n’ let me make a pretty momma outta ya.”
He grunts once your velvety walls close in around his heavy girth, massaging down the sensitive divots of his rock-hard shaft. Shit, he was going to spend every waking minute of this week making you memorize it.
Viciously he snaps his hips down, bulging knot kissing your swollen folds with a wet thwack! thwack! thwack!
“D-didn’t think you’d be so mean.” you’re puckering your glossed lips into a pout. Gliding your fingers across his rippling abs, it makes his hulking body just shiver, hips stuttering sloppily.
“D-d-d-didn’t think this cunt of yours would be so slutty.” he’s mocking in his baritone rumble, big beefy arms caging you in to split you apart with every swollen inch of his massive cock. Fucking out those utterly bratty words on your tongue.
Toji’s thick digits curl firmly around your throat, running a fat thumb down the side of your still-unmarked scent gland. He positively titters at the way you jolt, “So would ya ah- c-care to explain why my girl s’suddenly smellin’ like fuckass Shiu?”
Fuck - you’d forgotten. Being too caught up with Toji to remember how you’d run to the other alpha to understand how to help your dear boyfriend, still wafting with his smokey sweet scent.
Your inner omega whines, clawing to prove him wrong. “N-No–” The words are barely falling from your stupidly drunken mouth before your voice just hitches, strangling out the remnants of a syrupy moan that makes him twitch. “P-promise I jus’ met him to h-help-”
But oh, Toji was more animal than man right now.
A thundering growl cracks at the very back of his throat, rummaging at the very bottom of your pussy with no mercy. And no apologies, either. “Is that so?” His teeth nip on your lips, “Heheh, sure tha’s right. But when I’m done with you-” And something oozing from his tone told you that Toji didn’t mean it to be “done” for a long, long time. “-every other fucker’s gonna look at you n’ know you’re mine.”
The bed creaks riotously when he’s bucking his toned hips into you so hard that you see Toji’s creamy skin redden.
And Toji was always massive - but in rut he couldn’t stop all the blood pumping twofold into his expansive girth, nudging past every bruised sweet spot and even more.
“My pretty girl- fuck- even prettier full w’me-” he’s spitting wetly into your pathetically slack lips. Peppering eager kisses down your cheek, your neck, your collarbone, lolling his tongue out to suck on your tits.
His eyes were drooping shut, mouth babbling out drunken purrs of your name. “Fuck- fuck when m’gonna ngh- have these girls all swollen f’me.” One of his hands attach thoroughly at your breasts, circling his fingers over where your nipples were the most sensitive. And he’s smashing into you so rawly, sneaking his fingers all glistening with cum into your already snugly stuffed cunt. Plugging more in and in. “Fill you up so much yer gonna ngh- gonna feel me for months-”
“Yes yes yes-” you’re sobbing out, being fucked utterly stupid on his cock. “Wan’ ah- wan’ it so bad, Toji.”
He chuckles out smugly when your teary sweet lips glide across his in a messy kiss, tightening the fingers around your throat to crane your pretty neck upwards. Into a proper kiss, pinkish lips wrapped around your tongue - he sucks.
“You don’t just ‘want’ it, ma.” His pants grow harsh, shuddering, stars bursting behind his dewy, dark eyes every time your spongy cervix makes his slams recoil backwards. “Yer gonna need it.”
Your spine curves so deliciously upwards into his front when the two long digits sunken into your entrance spread just enough for your sloppy hole to be fed Toji’s achy knot. Pinning you down with his pressurized weight to stop your squirmy wrangling.
“Gonna need me in ya, so hah- much that this sweet lil’ pussy’s gonna be twice her size, heh-” Those obscenities in his voice make you gasp. “All round n’ gorgeous- they’ll hngh know what I’ve done. Every single fucking one s’gonna look at you and see me me me-” He sinks his teeth into your scent gland, hard.Bonding. “Cos’ you’re mine, doll.”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - More, more, more
“K-Ken, s’everything alright?” Your voice trembles with the tiniest whimper when you’re whirling your glassy eyes over your shoulder, meeting your husband’s darkened ones locked on you.
“Of course, my love.” Comes Nanami’s answer - but, shit, you already knew better. “J-just keep doing what you’re doing.”
There’s such a sodden drag of clothes on clothes resounding throughout your cozy kitchen, and your fingers shake where you were whisking a batch of sweet, sweet frosting.
Because you could already catch the way his words broke into a gruff moan, the slight shiver in his Adam’s apple as his hot, thickened cockhead twitches ferally. Hips buck up against you desperately.
He’d come home to you in rut.
He was needy, bothered. Barely even changed out of his work clothes before he’s clutching roughly onto the fabric of your apron.
You’re whining, “Ken– we needa get you-”
“Shhh my pretty wife, m’alright, m’alright. Don’t- ngh! Worry about me, darling. Just-” He gulps before loosening his favorite yellow tie - the room too hot. Scent glands puffing out another heatwave of his expensive pine smell, his massive hands trace down the curve of your hips. Mindlessly. Kneading.
SMACK!
Shit, he didn’t even mean to do that.
But oh how you gasp so prettily at Nanami’s unusually harsh treatment, the barely-there sound being instantly picked up by his sharpened senses. Restless. Mouth watering.
God, he could cum just like this. He was ruined for you.
“M’alright jus’ a rut- keep doing- hngh-” he gasps, a feverish puff against your ear as your bodies glissade across one another. “Jus’- ahh- fuck- jus’ need a bit more, my love.” Free hand dancing down your forearm to help you stir your bowl, the other ravenously leading a hot trailway to the hem of your cotton shorts. Pulling - tearing.
Your shorts are left nothing but tatters on the floor, and Nanami’s throwing his head back with a drunken grin. Eyes falling half-shut at the absolute mess your cunt has made, dribbling a glossy sheen down your inner thighs.
Yeah, shit, this was what he’d left work early for.
And you could tell he was still staring, still gleaming a translucent coating with just a single roll of his thumb over your throbbing clit. Dragging the very edge of his fingernail down, down, down the crevice of your pretty pussy lips.
And he’d do it all over again.
You moan - and as soon as you do, you’re finding yourself shoved onto the cool tile of the kitchen counter as Nanami doubles over. “M-more?”
His teeth grit, canines bared, grunts of your name spilling over and over when he hovers them over your racing pulse. Sweat-slicked strands of blond tickle your nose when he’s heaving out, “Yes, darling- j-jus’ a bit more. Just a bit.” One hand of his curls around your throat, wrangling you into such a sweet, sweet french kiss. “-I need it- fuck- need it- s’alright, is it?”
Yes yes yes, your inner omega was keening out to him. Your own shaky fingers tugging lightly on his hair in a way that makes him nip at your mating mark.
But Nanami didn’t even need that to already know your answer by the way your hip squirm back in wet, swiveling gyrations. Again. And again and again. Honeyed little movements that make him gasp.
“Shit- ohhh, smell so good- need you so badly-” his gentle baritone voice breaks with something primal. You flinch at the echoing clatter of his belt onto the hardwood floors, and the feeling of something steaming hot pressing into your skin. “Need- you- fuck, didn’t think I’d even make it this hah- long. Been thinkin’ about breeding this sweet cunt all day.”
Then he’s kissing down the very edge of your drooling pussy with a sweeping swipe! of his fat head. Peaking in just the very beginnings of that sinful curve, meshing your sopping folds with his prominent veins that thump thump thump away against your cunt.
Enough to have him panting - crying out. Pound after pound.
“Stuffin’ ya full- Oh god, y-you have no idea what you do to me-” Nanami’s strict brows furrow into the tightest knit, and his words take on a ragged tone that makes you clench. An obscene little action that he feels against the very tip of his achy cock, gushing out a sticky slosh of precum that sticks to you like a second skin. “No- hah- wait- no no no no- keep ‘er open f’me, my love.”
Those toying fingers on your clit give a sudden pull at the very peak of the sensitive nub - leaving your body wracking with shudders long enough to have Nanami splitting you apart.
The bowl is knocked over now, and Nanami takes the opportunity to lace his fingers with yours into the most innocent little hold. Dragging your intertwined hands up for him to press a flurry of pecks onto, sucking up that sugary sweet mess on your digits.
Something you barely even register with how deliciously he was stretching out your snug insides, fucking out each and every thought in your hazy mind with quick, shallow grinds just to fit inside. “Spit.” he’s gritting his teeth at the feeble resistance, and he can feel the way your cunt gapes all around him. “Spit in m’mouth-”
You do, Nanami groaning appreciatively, gaze flurrying shut. Your puffed-out folds bulging around his hefty cock, snapping deeply into you. Again and again.
All the way until-
“Hah- shit- jus’ a bit more-” Nanami’s groaning, eyes narrowing over his now-disarrayed glasses when he’s greedily thumbing apart your slick-glossed folds. Eyeing himself all stuffed and overspilling inside you, your sloppy hole trying desperately to milk his fattened knot. Clenching around the very tip of the bulge. “Fuck back into me now, darling- ah- fuck back into me n’ lemme make you a pretty momma- jus’ a bit more.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - Tongue-twister
Just a taste. Just one.
Two.
Four.
Over and over. Whenever Geto Suguru was on his rut, he couldn’t think of a better heaven than where he was right now - locked in-between those pretty thighs of yours. With you splayed out on the tatami mats of his firmly shut bedroom, your legs on his muscled shoulders, drenched panties pulled just enough to the side to stuff your puffed-up clit in his drunken mouth.
“S-Suguru–”
You feel a sudden - barely-there - nip at the very peak of your sodden sensitive bud. Not enough to hurt, but enough to have your entire body jolting with electricity, Geto snickering against your swollen folds.
“Fine- hngh Sugu–” you’re crying out, fingers interlacing in his long, soft strands in a pathetically useless attempt to drag him from making out with your poor overworked pussy. “I don’ know- ah if I can cum a-again.”
That has him quirking up a dark brow in question, parting with your drippingly wet cunt with a gasping grunt of disappointment. You can only watch when his overly-glossed bottom lip wobbles, “Don’t want you to cum again, gorgeous.” He’s pouting, delicate strings of slick snapping with every peck after peck planted on your clit. “I want you to squirt–”
Oh, god, he was hypnotized.
Barely being able to get out the words before reattaching his sly lips down to your own, meshing them in a sopping wet french kiss. It leaves you bucking, and he distantly wonders whether he’d see the imprint of the tatami on your back tomorrow. “Y-you’re so addicted, Sugu-”
“No m’not.” Geto’s pulling out a sudden squelch as he spits a sudden wad of thick, silvery spit down onto the very middle of your puffy pussy lips. Smearing a thumb down between them up and down up and down- before swirling those slender digits easily past your sloppy hole. “S’not my fault you’re so hngh- irresistible- s’yours.”
Shit, to be honest, Geto couldn’t even register what he was saying right now. Couldn’t think of anything but the way you tasted so sweet on his tongue - as syrupy as that scent of yours was puffing out. He wanted- needed more more more-
He’s grinding his painfully aching cock down like some animal, slithering down his free hand to knead over the bulging shaft in quick, solid slides.
Matching the pace of those two fingers massaging your gummy walls. So hot inside it’s like you were melting, milking his fingers so plianty with every languid push and pull into your g-spot.
“Jus’ one more taste– hah- hold up my hair, can’t see- yeahhh jus’ like that.” Geto’s whining once your trembly fingers wrap tight to collect his stray locks, giving you the perfect view of his high cheeks hollowing. Rosy pink lips wrap around your clit to suck once more. And if his voice cracked ever-so-slightly at the end, well, he was only grateful that his beautiful girl was too fucked-out to notice right now. “S’not addicted if I only want one more- is it? C’mon, honey- please, honey, for me?”
Every groan has such lewd shockwaves sprinting through all your veins, and the sheer overstimulation makes big fat tears well up behind your eyes. God, it was too much.
Noticing, he’s letting out such calming pheromones of sandalwood - enough to make you dizzily babble out, “Think I’m- ahh- think m’close- Sugu–” To bring you close. Something was pulling taut, knotting in your stomach almost painfully.
Suddenly, the heady room resounds with a wet gasp - and only later do you realize that it came from Geto himself.
Because oh, are you cumming - and it’s pulled out from all of Geto’s filthiest wet dreams. Because not only do you cum, you’re squirting all down the lower half of his pretty face. Your thighs squeezing tighter and tighter around his head with each crashing wave of pleasure.
“Shit- ngh-” you’re sobbing out, cheeks wet with all the big, bulbous tears that your high brings. “Oh fuck- Sugu m’cumming m’cumming n’ s’all your fault- ah-”
“M’not addicted.” Is all he can spit out into your convulsing pussy, over and over like his own personal mantra. And it’s only when your orgasm bates into mere tingles, when your eyes roll back down from the back of your head, head just slightly clearer that he can manage to rip himself away.
Still, groaning gutturally at the loss of your sweet, sweet cunt - he looked so pretty this way.
Dark hair untamed, curtaining his glassy, pussydrunken eyes. Practically glowing in the dim lighting, devouring you just as much as his mouth had. Glossy, it drip! drip! drips down onto your shaky thighs with every bead of your juices he’d lapped up. Leaving a syrupy aftertaste on his tongue and shit, was he hooked.
In a split-second, Geto’s smoothly towering his body over yours, placing a sodden kiss right on your lips to let you taste all the honeyed sweetness yourself.
But just as you were distracted by how rudely he was claiming your tongue, you’re feeling the sharp smack! of something hard and swelteringly hot on your shamelessly spread pussy. His knot.
And then the squelch of ribbon after ribbon of Geto’s hot cum spurting out. Over and over.
His body half-collapses onto yours, every gushing wave of sticky seed so violent that his head throws back, eyes rolling to the back of his head. Shit, orgasms during a rut always did crash headfirst. Always did have his furiously weepy head dripping out in overly voluminous dredges of thick cum.
“Jus’ ohhh- one more t-taste before I hngh- breed this cute cunt.” Geto hiccups, wet lashes batting up at you in a lazy way from in-between your legs. Long tongue dragging over the mess, smearing across the sheen of white. Every single pearlescent wisp - only to spit it back out onto your cunt. “For now.”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Please…”
You’re snapping your head down at Choso teary plea, pecking at the corner of his wobbly lips. All pinkened and kissed raw, wobbling when he begs, “F-for my first knot can I oh- cum inside, baby?”
Shit, your poor boyfriend was so pretty looking up at you with his twinkling, dewy eyes like this. His creamy skin flushed, twitchy fingers craning upwards to grab at the headboard to keep some sense of his sanity when you glide your dripping wet cunt down his cock.
His mouth gasps open in a feverish puff of your name over and over when your gooey walls in turn just squeeze around his sweltering hot girth. Velvety walls sucking up every thrumming vein down his length.
“Please— ah-” Choso’s breath hitches upwards in both volume and pitch when your hips slam down in a particularly harsh squelch! Mouth lolling open at both the filthy way you were riding him and your teasing silence. “Baby- oh, baby please say- s-something-”
You can’t stop your syrupy giggle from escaping your lips, “Awww, m’sorry Cho, What did you say you wanted again?”
And Choso has always been the type to be so greedy when he has you in bed - but you’ve never seen him like this. His first ever rut - a late bloomer - and oh, did that make him extra sensitive.
Mouth slacking open into a broken cry, frustrated droplets of sweat beading down his forehead, his slender hips just rut upwards in a pressurized thrust that has your sloppy pussy dragging down every one of his swollen inches.
Spearheading so deliriously deep, his length swirls around to easily massage your tenderized sweet spots.
So needy.
“Want to- want to cum inside–” he whines, thick lashes fluttering at the heavenly feeling inside you. You feel two of his soft palms attach themselves to your hips, bleary gazing tilting downwards to watch himself grind up, up, up trying desperately to squeeze his achingly fat knot into your tight pussy. “Wanna make ya a momma. T-to breed my pretty omega, please- S’calling to me- it hurts ah-”
“My poor baby–” you’re humming, with that honeyed tone of yours that makes the very end of his furiously leaky cock twitch. Leaning down to kiss away his big, pearlescent tears, “You sure you want to-”
“Yes!” he’s cutting you off with a long, dragged-out groan. Head throwing back over and over into the plush pillows when he’s feeling your snug, swollen pussy lips spread over the bulging curve of his knot. Bit by bit. “Yes yes yes- please more- hngh- t-take it all– needa-” One of his thumbs caresses right over where he knew your womb to be, feeling for the nudge of his thick, bulbous head swipe a wet glide across your walls. “-need to make you mine here, too.”
Just as he’s pressing the thick curve of his thumb down hard, both of your ravenous bodies glide together in a harsh ram.
And shit - you already knew by the way that Choso’s dilated eyes roll to the back of his head, the way his biceps flex with a wracking shudder, the sudden cracking moan of your name - that he’d plugged you full of his knot.
With a gasp your heady senses catch up around the staggeringly wide stretch. The way this was all it took for your elastic walls to constrict around him, being pushed to your very limits. Pulled taut.
Then and only then do the both of you realize that both of you are cumming.
Your toes curling, moaning out a shrill, “Shit- shit shit shit- I’m–” Before the zaps of white-hot pleasure take over your mind, being fucked pathetically stupid on Choso’s raging cock.
His feet plant flat on the silken sheets to buck up in meeting your sloppy staccato, his hipbones smack into yours in hard kisses to drag out your pleasure.
“Yes- oh god.” It’s just about all that he can whimper out right now, and he’s boring his eyes up at you like you were one. Strong arms wrap around your still-shivering waist, until Choso was whispering in hot puffs against your ear, “Gonna fill this ah fuck- t-tight pussy.” Nodding you through every thick wad of seed knocking at your womb, drool dripping down each side of his lips. It overspills - from both lips. “Y-you’ll take it right? Every drop? Gonna hngh- make me a fuck- daddy, right, baby–?”
Fuck, right now all you can do is squeal.
Let yourself be easily manhandled by all of Choso’s strength when he flips the two of you over, kneeing apart your thighs to fold you in half for him. A thorough mating press, “Yeah- yeah you are-” he breathes into your lips. “She’s gonna have my eyes- n’ your p-pretty smile ah- n’ she’ll call ya ‘momma’ and ohh-”
Just then, for how badly Choso wanted you all full of his knot, he finds himself bawling at the way his stuttering hips can no longer thrust into you back and forth. Locked in place.
“Still gotta-” he’s gasping out through wet licks up the tears streaming down your face. And there’s something so darkly primal in Choso’s tone - something there to send shivers down your spine, to remind you exactly what he is in a rut. “-gotta fill ya up more, ngh- m’still so hard- still cumming, baby.” Furiously, he’s grinding his hips in needy gyrations, weepy cock surging further and further to knock up against your g-spot. “Still need to- breed- you-”
One of Choso’s palms comes pressing down hard onto where his cum was sloshing around your inner walls, and with the dredges of creamy white that spill out - so does his slightly-softened knot.
Enough for him to grin such a dangerous grin.
Drunken, humorless. Whispering, “Please, baby- c-can my second knot be inside, t-too?”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - NO CONTROL!
“Fuck-” you’re hearing Sukuna’s ragged grunt against your ear, low and dark in a way that only his deep baritone could be. “Fuck.”
Oh how you wanted to ask him what was wrong - you wanted to raise your bleary eyes from the silken pillows spread across his royal bed.
But Sukuna was plummeting his hefty cock into you so deeply, pound after pound that has you scrambling to catch your breath desperately. His thick head was branding circular bruises at the very end of your spongy cervix, girthy shaft stretching you from the inside out.
And this was only his human form.
He curses at the clingy grip of your gooey walls, unable to tear his devilishly red eyes away from how well your sodden folds were puffed up around him. Milking his staggering size so well.
It has his kiss-bitten lips a little looser than he’d have liked, “Fuck, this filthy pussy of yours mighta jus’ th-thrown me into a rut, brat.”
“What?” you’re gasping, all the air tucked away in your lungs being fucked with another shuddering slam into you. Your limbs tremble where you’re bounced against his hard front on all fours, barely managing to choke out, “Y-you’re in a rut, Kuna?”
“Heh, yes.”
Sukuna can’t help but bark out a rumbling bout of laughter at the way your pretty mouth falls slack. Drool dripping down the side of your lips in a way that he really can’t help but crane over his hulking body to lick. A long, languid drag of his tastebuds.
“Yeahhh- really did kickstart my hah- rut. You naughty girl- now I hafta breed this cute cunt.” Five of his thick fingers kiss the very curve of your ass in a sudden swat, and the sting makes your cunt drool down his inches. Gliding down in a greedy trail to curl around the urgent swelling at his already-thick hilt, he swipes at the syrupy translucent beads of your slick pooling at the very top. “Yet, how come you’re more hngh- affected than me, huh, silly girl?”
Laughably, the only things that your blabbing mouth could get out right now were a few cockdrunken whines and whimpers.
Music to Sukuna’s ears. That is, until-
“Hah! Sukuna!”
That makes him snap his scrunched eyes open - shit, when did he even close them? Sculpted, broad chest heaving with shuddering inhales for air, and a sudden wave of fatigue mixed with the saccharine sweet high of being sunken into your drooling pussy hits him.
It has him handling two of his hands into a bruising grip on the small of your waist, and the other two-
Other two?
“Y-you–” you’re mewling, each one of your throaty moans spilling and slurring together at how utterly full you felt. Double the sinful stretch of just mere moments before. “-you shifted into your ngh- true form!”
Indeed, the notorious king of curses was so hypnotized by your pussy that he hadn’t even realized when he’d slid back into his true form. Beefy biceps flexing as his inhuman hold on your body roughens, twin cocks spearheading into you maddeningly.
His pheromones are so overpowering right now, the slight tinge of spice and metal makes the omega in you already purr in satisfaction.
“Y-yeah?” He’s gritting out through clenched teeth, and those sharpened canines make you clench. Makes him use every shred of willpower to pretend that he wasn’t as fucking out of control as he was right now. “N-n’ what about it, brat? Don’t hear ya ah- complainin’.”
Yeah, he’s letting his head throw back, totally on purpose, right?
Twice the stretch had your teeth sinking down into the pillows. Matchingly throbbing girths drawing matching glides down all your sweet spots, you feel him jostle and bump into each of his cocks. Kissing dripping wet kisses to your cervix and your g-spot your cervix and your g-spot- Gurgling out only little pleas-
“Wha’s this-” you’re hearing Sukuna seethe from above you, voice a few octaves higher than usual. One of his towering palms easily wraps around both your wrists. Hoisting you upwards, “-started my rut n’ now you’re not letting me hear it?”
You’re now fully supported in midair by him - his absolute favorite position.
Because of the perfect angle to spy the way your cunt was swallowing every one of his powerfully pressurized thrusts.
To have his seeping hot cum trickle out of your surely overspilling cunt - down to his achingly tight balls. Where he’d scold you for wasting his precious seed, and then fuck it back into you all over again.
Because with this, Sukuna’s dancing up one hand about halfway up your stomach, pressing down brandingly where he can feel the bulge of his two thick cocks. “Guess tha’s hah- twice the amount m’gonna fill ya up-” Pressing down with all five digits splayed out. Hard. Your body erupts with tremors when his second hand toys deftly with little circles around your puffed-up clit. “-twice my chances of g-gettin’ an heir-”
You’re bouncing uncontrollably back and forth into Sukuna’s riotous hips, making him gulp at the few strings of wispy white spurting out of his furiously weepy divots.
Half-deliriously, he wonders whether you’d be able to take two knots.
Shit, his fattening knots leave wet thwacks at your pussy lips, those ringing squelches only growing louder and louder in your ear as soon as his third hand scissors open your messy entrance even further. Vision spinning when your honeyed scent has him shooting blanks already, stickily soaked balls clenching painfully.
Again. And again and again-
You were putty in his hands, surely at his mercy. “So the o-only question now is–” Or, at least, that’s what Sukuna was making it seem. Grunting, when he knows he’s on the very tipping point of cumming in such thick, voluminous wads already. “-are ya gonna be a good queen n’ gimme all that?”
He was no match for you.
♡ GOJO SATORU - Like an animal
“Sweetheart- oh, sweetheart—” Gojo’s leering after a hefty gulp of saliva, his breathing comes out in pants. Heaves. Fanning your face in an utterly feverish way, “Sweetheart, we’re not making it outta this alive.”
And this was the fifth time he was echoing this mantra tonight - the fifth time since breaking down your apartment door into the tiniest of splinters. The floor rattling as the strongest strode his way to take you right then and there on your living room table, already in the throes of his rut.
Ready to ruin.
Looking like he was about to kill.
“Toru- Toru someone could walk by-” you’re gasping, barely able to catch your breath with the sheer, staggering amounts of punishing thrust he was planting on your cunt. Shoveling all thickened inches into you with no mercy or regret. “They’re g-gonna see, Toru–”
Not to mention, the sudden crack! of mahogany wood as the cool surface of the table sags down on one side. Already broken.
And the first thing you’re being given in response is the powerful slap! of his swollen knot against your puffy pussy lips, leaving a stinging kiss that has you keening.
The second is your back hitting the soft bounce of your plush mattress - all the way in your bedroom. Teleported in nothing but a split-second.
“S-s’this ah okay, then?” Gojo tongue half-lolls out with his broken moans, and your glassy eyes peer through your lashes at those bolts of purple jujutsu at the very edges of his half-lidded eyes. “Can’t complain now- h-huh- can’t ah– jus’ let me fill ya up now.”
God, he’s fucking himself pathetically stupid on your gummy cunt, every slobbering drag down your velvety walls having his lids drooping closer together, minty scent puffing out mindlessly, words tinging with a primal sort of hoarseness.
You’re squealing at the wet thwacks! when he’s pounding you into your fresh silken sheets. “Y-you’re so infuriating-”
And just as your mouth opens in a sloppy whine, Gojo’s taking the lewd opportunity to spit a wad of syrupy sweet saliva onto your tongue. Grinning at the breathless way you’re taking it all - on instinct. By nature.
“And yet your o-omega loves me as ah- much as ever, huh?” he whispers down at your pretty self, words honeyed with the sort of smugness that only Gojo Satoru could have.
As if to prove his little point, he’s crushing you even harder with his weight. Strong arms jostling your limply falling legs to lock around his neck so easily, and shit- he could feel the way the very end of his fat, rotund head poke into the bullseye of your g-spot. Sensitive slit swiping back and forth on your heavenly cunt-
But it still wasn’t enough.
CRACK!
Just as soon as the creaking protest of the bed rings across your dazed mind, Gojo’s hauling the two of you into a sitting position. Your cunt sat prettily down his long cock, being bounced up and down with the help of his jittery hands clenched roughly around your waist.
“Wh-what-” you mewl, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. Nails digging red hot marks down the plane of his milky shoulders, “What even b-brought this on–”
“Some fucking curse-” he’s rolling his eyes, with a mindless swat of the slender, rounded tips of his fingers on your clit. Bringing them up, up, up to be popped into his mouth - making him moan. “Heh- can’t help but think about how much sweeter you’d be when I finally breed this pretty cunt.”
And you didn’t realize just how badly Gojo Satoru was ruined because that tiny smack has bands of electricity spiking through your entire body. Arching your spine into a delicious bow that makes his mouth water.
“Y-your powers-”
“And?”
Electricity sparks at your lips when Gojo’s crashing his own against yours - literally.
“Please-” he weeps out. And it’s enough to make you sob, your dripping walls being coated in another fresh wave of his precum. “Lemme make a m-momma outta ya- fuck this hngh- cunt till she c-can’t anymore-” His hefty balls shifting underneath your ass with each clench, each twitch. “Wanna ahh- breed you so bad- think I might just die, sweetheart.”
He was losing it.
He was cumming - and so were you.
Spurting out wave after wave of sweltering hot cum that invades your insides, there’s so much of it. Sloshing around your snug channel sloppily, it’s coating your cervix in a sticky gloss. And you swear you could feel the thick dredges of his seed ooze down your gooey walls.
Your teeth gnaw at Gojo’s flushed skin on the crook of his neck - and his on yours. Breaking skin, tasting the metallic tinge of red.
The very taste is enough to have him dumping out another great load of his cum, overstuffing your poor cunt until you could feel yourself swell. It’s enough to drive you mad.
And enough to have Gojo stuffing his bulging know past your swollen folds with a drawn-out moan of your name. Pretty lower lip quivering, dewy eyes firmly drooping shut as he’s bulling into the feeble ring of muscle.
Tight.
“Take it- sweetheart- take it all–” he’s whimpering into your ear, powerful legs jittering upwards to have his cum splurge into every nook and cranny of your cunt. Fingers thrumming jujutsu down your spine, “Sweetheart, sweetheart ah- fuck-” You can only bare your widened eyes at him as he looks over your shoulder, grinning. “The bed’s broken.”
Before you know it, you’re being splayed out on the floor - teleported.
You’re wincing at the slow, swiveling grind of Gojo’s hips on your own. Too impatient to even let his knot go down before trying to fuck you through your high, teasing out slow pushes and pulls against your cum-coated sweet spots. “Y-you did that on p-purpose, Toru.”
“Y’know what e-else I did on purpose, sweetheart–” his slurring words are accompanied with another smack! to your cunt. And an even filthier press on your stomach to watch his cum dribble out, which Gojo gladly smears along his fingers - pressing into your mouth to let you taste the candied mess.
“Wh-what?”
Whispering in your ear, “Hah- getting hit by the curse.”
A/N. Of COURSEEE I had to end it off with a guilty pleasure of mine mwahaha
Synopsis. Suguru Geto, the resident nerd who “helps” you with your homework. Tall, gloomy, mean, and- and an alpha? And he’s in rut?!
Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! nerd! Geto, ruts, OMÉGAVERSE AU, pánty-sniffer Geto, he goes FÉRAL, MEAN Geto, headIocks, slightly bímbo! reader, dúmbifícation, cervíx kíssing, creampíes, cúmplay, MANHANDLlNG, Geto with glasses + tattoos, overstím, knots, first times (Geto), pússydrunk Geto, MATÍNG BÍTES, oraI (f + m), p talking, spítting, praise, he’s POSSESSIVE, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 8.8k
A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3
“Please, Sugu—?”
“No.”
“I’ll let you keep my panties?”
And that makes Geto shudder, breath hitching into something dangerously husky as he pushes his thick glasses further up his nose bridge. Greedy gaze darting anywhere but where you were oh-so-vulgarly leaning towards him. “Tch- as if I’d ever…”
With a grin, you shift to show him a flash of cherry pink peeking out from underneath that sinfully short skirt of yours.
Purposefully.
He was gone.
“F-fine.” He’s gulping, and it wouldn’t be the first time that you’d goaded the ill-tempered campus genius, Geto Suguru, into doing your- ah, “helping” you with your homework. “But-”
Before Geto can ramble away the usual lecture about something called “academic integrity”, you’re jumping up and tackling his towering frame into a hug. Pressing the curves of your tits into his Digimon t-shirt - just as a little treat - and flouncing excitedly back to your friends.
But what you didn’t notice is the way that makes Geto stiffen.
His tummy lurching, nose raising into the air-
Oh.
You smelled so sweet.
Geto’s spit-slicked lips part open to steal a sharp gasp of the sweltering lecture hall air- it couldn’t be. And his bleary irises can’t even focus, can’t lock on anything but the figure of you mere feet away.
…Could it?
With a slight tilt of your head, you’re staring back at him - and something…carnal pangs through his suddenly-boiling veins.
Then you smirk- and Geto twitches.
Fuck.
He would’ve crashed onto his knees right then and there if it wasn’t for the way that you proceed to dig through your cute, useless bag - still in the middle of a conversation with your friends - and throw something flimsy and pale pink at him.
No shame. No regrets.
None for either of you; but especially not Geto once his strong palms reach out to urgently scramble for the shred of gauzy fabric in midair.
Tangling the stringy satin between thick, ringed fingerpads, he’s sinking his face into its sugarcoated scent before sinking into the realization that you’d had the audacity to throw your fucking panties at him in the middle of a bustling seminar.
Yet, he was even worse - jaw slackening, broad chest heaving with rasping ahs! as he drinks in loooong repeated puffs of your pheromones. Coating his brain in melty molasses of sugar and spice and you.
There was a reason you were the most sought-after omega on the entire campus. With your filthy skin-tight outfits, and your flirty smiles.
And him? He couldn’t get enough.
Smearing away a sloppy splotch of saliva spilling from the corner of his mouth- when had he even started drooling? Geto watches through watery peripherals as you mouth a smug “an advance” at him, and saunter out of the class in your tightly-knit group.
Too tightly-knit, if you asked Geto. Dead-on stare narrowing, he catches the way one of your so-called friends brush away an invisible piece of lint from your shoulder.
Just barely. His head snapping towards Geto when the latter growls-
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
He was fucked.
.
.
.
Listen, it’s not as if you make Geto finish all of your homework - just the ones that you found too tedious, too complicated, or too time-consuming. Which might just happen to be all of them, but you digress!
He was more than happy to collect those slutty scraps of silk you called “panties” and you were proud to keep your streak of having the second-highest GPA in class (after the man himself, of course.)
The more important the grade the more sinful the panties.
After all, it wasn’t as if you minded all of Geto’s fiery stares at you during lectures, the spark in his eyes when he tried to drill a difficult concept into your mind, or the way his dark lashes would flutter drunkenly the moment you got too close.
In fact, you might even admit that you…like it.
Because Geto was hot. Fuck- he was fucking pretty.
You’d seen just how fawny his amethyst eyes were behind those clunky glasses. Lengthy Stygian hair, so many inches above six feet, and biceps that pull his gamer t-shirts so taut that it made you wonder what was underneath.
But it wasn’t as if a nerd - and a beta, obviously, though you didn’t care for secondary gender - like him would ever make a move.
Hell, he barely even talked to anyone other than the professors.
All grumbling and rude. It took you weeks to even get him to acknowledge your existence, and that was only by giving him an “accidental” glimpse of your red, red bra strap.
So you were mostly fine and dandy with this lecherous transaction of yours. Geto was smart; he was never a minute late in emailing you your surely A+ worthy work before their deadlines, and you’d gift him his little treat just the day after.
Except- you were lounging on your couch as the 12:00AM deadline for your latest essay rolled around and there was still no sign of Geto. Not a single ping from your inbox.
With an impatient thumb, you’re idly scrolling through the sparse chat history you’d all but bullied him into sharing with you, brows furrowing deeper and deeper at your plethora of ignored texts and calls.
Nothing new but, seriously…
Scoffing as the clock tick! tick! ticked! its way to 12:01AM.
He was late - and your homework was, too.
You’d been feeling a little too…feverish tonight to attend that one party your friends had invited you to, and thank your stars for that. Because not even minutes later, you were stomping the few blocks down to Geto’s apartment building and all the way up to his white-painted front door.
“Hey, Sugu—” You rap your knuckles harshly on the wood, exasperated. “Are you in there?”
No answer.
Huffing, your heated skin stings where it clashes even harder against his door. Impatiently, “Hah- making an omega walk all the way out here…I should take back all those panties I gave you. Yaga deducts points for late submissions and I am not leaving until you come out.”
Still no answer. Not even a sound.
“In fact, I’ll only get louder.”
Not even a breath.
That was…strange. He should’ve at least come out to shut up your racket so that he can study, if not at the mention of your panties.
And right now your annoyance was being washed away with sharp waves of concern, a nervous bout of laughter escaping you as soon as your hand falls on the door handle to find it shockingly unlocked. Oh?
You and Geto might not be the best of friends, but you wanted him to be alright goddammit.
“Better come out and stop me now, unless you want me to barge in!” You call out, jostling the cold, metallic knob for good measure. It holds firm in your hand, the only thing grounding your swimming mind as you bask in a second of silence. Two. Three. Before sighing, “Have it your way then. I’m coming in–”
Then it hits you.
Slow, at first. Like a smell from a distant memory that you find yourself aching for - find yourself stumbling a few steps inside Geto’s cozy apartment and devouring in generous lungfuls.
You slam the door shut to cloud yourself in the saturated air and gasp.
This was nothing like any expensive perfume you’d smelled before. It felt like your entire body was on fire, like every one of your pores was scorching from deep inside. Like you needed him.
Head whirling with the heady concoction of caramel salt scent and those dark undertones of wine. Something so dangerous. So tempting. So…Suguru.
You jolt. He was in rut.
Wait, rut? Geto Suguru? Wasn’t he…wasn’t he a beta?
You swear he was. You didn’t know what was happening, only angling your head up for more and more and more-
Shit, you’re shoving your thighs together before you know it. Already feeling the slippery stream of slick that sloshes past your pussy lips and puddles at the bottom of your underwear. And you know you’ve never been wetter.
“A-anyone home?” You’re straining out, the doughy mountain of your palm rubbing mindlessly up n’ down through your thin skirt.
Undoubtedly, there’s still no response. And yet, it’s almost as if he’s calling to you - and maybe he is.
Feet wrenching one jerky pitch after the other, you have to balance yourself on the hallway walls to fucking keep your sanity.
And to perhaps stop your weakened knees from slipping you into a pile on the polished hardwood floors. Perhaps to stop yourself from breaking out into a run to wherever your inner luna was clawing to take you.
You breathe, “Th-this isn’t funny, Suguru…”
The soft thuds of your padded steps thunder in time with your racing heart. Louder and louder. Deafening by the time you’re catching sight of a large mahogany door at the end of the corridor that waves ever-so-slightly ajar.
Where those hypnotic pheromones were the most saturated. And your mouth waters.
It’s only once you’re reaching it - trembling, standing stock-still, right outside what you now assumed to be his bedroom - that you realize Geto was calling to you. Well, more like he was calling out for you.
Your name.
In soft, breathy moans that make his rich baritone crack.
“Get the fuck in here.”
.
.
.
The moment Geto Suguru catches a glimpse of your oh-so-cute face - the moment he senses that you’re actually, honest-to-goodness here - he cums.
And he can’t help it- fuck, he can’t help it.
Even dabbing the fat of his massive thumb right over his bawling tip can’t stop the heaping torrents of gooey white escaping from him. Such slick ribbons upon ribbons crawling their way up Geto’s washboard abs, you can only watch with bated breath as his messy, round globs of seed trickle up n’ down until they drench his dark happy trail.
Your watery thighs stick together, maw falling agape because you’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined this.
You had. Once or twice or many, many times.
All splayed out on his Digimon sheets like this; meaty thighs cracked open, silky locks slathered across every inch, glasses fogged up. Ruined. Geto’s sweat-shimmered back arches off the outdated bed springs with a creak! while his hand flew furiously up and down his swollen cock.
Shit, you’re biting your lip. Syllables jumping roughly off of your heavy tongue, “S-Suguru?”
SLAM!
It’s like the sound of your voice does heavenly wonders to him.
Plump, tender balls squeezing, Geto’s free hand encloses behind his sweaty scalp and onto the headboard above him. Hard enough that the sturdy frame snaps, pale biceps flexing enough that you find your skin clammy with need.
“Fuh-fuck.” He’s hissing through clenched teeth. Staring right at your meandering form through dazed half-crescents, mouth departing endless husked grunts. And oh…oh a few more dewy droplets of cum spray out of his bawling orifice once you gulp. “Look what you’ve done t’me.”
“Y-you’re an alpha?” You finally manage to find your voice.
He snickers, the murky scent of the room growing ever-stronger. And even more than that was your own scent, mixing and melding until you felt dizzy. “And you’re in danger, little omega~”
Your widened gaze grows to lock on the way that his rugged fingers continue milking out creamy sploshes of cum. Expertly flying up, up, up– before fisting his hefty base with an airy sigh.
Large. He was so large.
And in so many ways more than one.
An alpha. He was an alpha.
Seductively sculptured body dwarfing his single bed with what looked like miles upon miles of toned, tall muscles. Were those tattoos spying out from the sides of his back?
A syrupy geyser of sap formulates between his two legs the size of your head- this was Geto Suguru?
And his cock - oh, he was so perfectly massive. Oversized, even in Geto’s engulfing hand.
So painfully hard that he was blushing a blossoming magenta near the very tip of his globular cockhead, throbbing. Pulsing. Thick lightning bolts of veins gripping down either side of his pink shaft and all the way down to his breeder balls.
With a harrowed gasp filling your lungs, you’re spotting just the barest fringe of something soaked-through and gauzy tangled underneath his digits.
Fuck.
“Is that-”
“This?” Geto grins - grins. You’ve never seen him smile let alone show off this dopey, predatory leer plastering all over his flushed features. A gentle dimple embeds near his curled lip, and he quirks an eager brow.
You can barely even think while he untwines the frilly pair of panties you’d thrown at him in class from around his aching cock. Sticky and stretched now, it finds home right near his flared nostrils as Geto brings it up and sniffs. Crazed. “C’mere.”
The rawest of glints twinkle in his half-lidded vision as you inch closer, the way you tremble on your two feet like a newborn fawn was adorable. And he can’t stop himself from letting out a low whistle–
“Yeah. Good fuckin’ girl.”
Your body kneels you right by Geto’s bedside before your mind can even think to catch up. Head lolling lecherously against the wide plane of his shivering thigh, you let your tongue lap up a pearl of his buttery white cum and keen. He was even bigger up close. “Sugu—”
“Nuh uh, gorgeous.” Geto tuts, gravelly tonality rendering you confused just as much as you were needy. His two palms grip the crown of your head to peer upwards, “S’all because of you. You n’ those d-damn panties. M’not your hck! nerdy fuckin’ Sugu right now. Best remember that- m’gonna make sure you remember that.”
He’s more than gazing down at you, he’s boring right through you.
Spectacle frames creeping precariously down his nose bridge, tendrils of his shaggy hair almost curtaining him, pellets of sweat trickle down his temples and hit you in thin spatters. So close. And you wanted him closer.
“Tilt your head back, lemme see that ngh- pretty mouth.” One hand slips from your head to curl around Geto’s fattened hilt, nudging his puckered tip to strike your lips with a dull thud! “Count.”
“One-”
And it’s not once.
“T-two-”
Not twice.
“Three- hah!”
Not thrice, until he’s leaving your mouth whimpering and stinging with the slam of his rock-hard shaft slapping down your tender flesh. Leaving a slimy trail of pre and salty cum that leaks between your maw and drives you wild.
Then - and only then - is he wrenching you up closer. Manhandling your pliable body until the very tip of his perfectly button nose meets yours. So close.
Your teary lashes flutter halfway shut once you feel the foggy breeze of his breath scorching your face, cunt quivering with the anticipation of a kiss. His pheromones hit you in powerful gusts, your primal urges scratching up to the surface.
Closer. Too close- for a kiss that never comes.
“Heh. Cute.”
He doesn’t kiss you.
But before you know it, Geto pitches his tongue back and wets your shimmery pouted lips with a large wad of his syrupy saliva.
In just a split-second.
Bowing you back underneath him and stuffing your chatty mouth so damn full of his swollen cock that you can’t even think of anything else. Fat droplets of tears fountain up at the edge of your eyes, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so split open.
He was eight- no, maybe nearing ten whole inches that scraped the back of your mushy throat with his ruthless mushroom tip.
Hard. Girthy.
Cratering out a wet circumference of bruises into your melty mouth with a singular thrust, and it wasn’t enough- fuck, it might never be enough.
Geto’s throwing his head back, toned core muscles tensing. “O-oh. This. Th-this is what it feels like?”
You almost wonder whether he even knew what he was doing once you feel a shaky thigh throwing behind your neck and reel you in close. Drawing you all the way up until your nose scratches his tufted pelvis, mouth hanging wiiidely agape.
“Sh-shooo big–” You’re mumbling through a scalding mouthful, slicked walls clenching at the realization that he had you trapped in a headlock. And by the looks of it, he was never going to let go.
“Yeah- yeah?” He shudders out, bass cracking into a zillion shatters near the end. Octaves higher. Unsteady. Meanly, Geto’s leg jostles you even further from behind to probe his shaft even deeper into your velvety mouth, your chin buckling underneath his curvaceous ballsack. Holding you still. Firmly. “Fuckin’ l-like that, don’t you?”
You can’t nod. You can’t hum affirmative. He was so bulky inside you that your lips sag underneath the sheer weight.
But your omega preens for the attention, sleek tongue zig-zagging over one of the pounding veins that poked into the roof of your mouth. And it’s enough of an answer for Geto.
Spitting out, “Oh yeah? Dirty girl. Didn’t expect your loser lil’ Sugu to have such a fat fuckin’ dick, huh?”
So fucking…rude, words teetering right on just the edge of being menacing. And you were just so gorgeous crying all over his cock like this, so much better than when you were hanging off of other alphas.
So much better when he strays a thumb to feel your filling throat, the way he’s lodged deep inside. Him. All him.
You let off a whiny gag the moment his blushing red cockhead twitches up ferally at the thought. The static cotton in your head making you slurp his length with a sloppy squelch!
He’s pushing up his glasses furiously, “Can you even take it? Seriously- acting so popular n’ mighty when you can’t even take my hngh- cock.”
And you’re about to rebuke, you’re about to- you swear.
But oh, he didn’t have mercy now.
“Whaaaat? M’just saying.” The ridges of his head press up all against every nook and cranny of your mouth, a silvery trail of drool now seeping from between your locked lips. Geto wipes away his own cobwebs of drool with the back of his mouth, giggling. Giggling when you scuffle, “S’it too big? Too big for our f-famous lil’ omega?”
Your throat aches something carnally delicious when he keeps a hold ‘round your neck to plunge into the waterlogged bottom. Bobbing your head in lewd maneuvers allll the way up n’ down. “Ngh- Sugu–”
“Hah- hah!” His glassy eyes gleam something wild, microscopic tastebuds watering all over again with just how intensely he was gawking down at you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that his eyes were glowing- “Why are ya still fuckin’ speaking, gorgeous?”
It wasn’t a Command, but oh did it feel like one.
Only mere moments later and Geto’s springing himself off of the bouncy mattress to shovel your hot throat full of copious inches and leave you spellbound. Swirling a lazy few half-circles of his heavy tip where you were most sensitive.
“Cool that pretty lil’ head. You’re cuter when yer like th-this, y’know?” He groans, feeling your slippery cheeks grip his shaft in an adorable hug. Knee drawing up even tighter to hold you still while he fucked your mouth the way he’d been wishing he could for so long. “All shut up a-and mine and…”
Ah, breath wisping away. He’s prodding your poor gag reflexes at the very same time he rovers up a stray hand to squeeze your nostrils together. “-only mine.”
“Nghh- G-etooo—” And yet, he still doesn’t let up. You’re cupping Geto’s plumpened balls with a delicately loving touch, lustrous strands of spit layering your lips. “Want you.”
“Hm?”
“Want you.”
Oh.
Oh.
Those are the very same words he’s been dreaming of every single rut since meeting you. And he can’t help himself, he can’t stop himself from letting out a slew of swears and cumming.
Shocked.
“Sh-shit—” It’s all Geto can do to bite down on the plush of his bottom lip and wrangle back those embarrassing fucking whimpers on his tongue, dewy eyes sparkling with a few overstimulated tears. “You’re gonna- f-fucking…”
But he’s not given the privilege to finish his thought let alone his sentence.
Just flooding your senses with the caramel salt of his scent, and his gobs of pearly seed. Every jackhammer has Geto pinpricking it on the back of your bruised and battered throat, every squeeze of his hand around your neck makes him drool out in wiry oodles of sap more and more and more-
“S’what you w-wanted, right?” And you’re sensing the way his scent tinged with something maddened, leaving your eyes popping. “Prancing around with your hah- p-pre-heat panties and your- fuck!” Geto fights to keep his eyes from flapping closed, “Take it- ohhhh take it all.”
As if you could do anything else.
Every tiny twitch leaves your cavern flooded. Geto was cumming so hard that it was overspilling from each crevice of your lips, a silvery waterfall of cum that he’s dabbing around a thumb to smear.
Letting your pouted lips wobble at the fresh topping of white gloss, “There’s a good girl. My goood fuckin’ girl.”
Oh, there’s no doubt in your fractured mind right now that Geto Suguru was an alpha. Inhaling his deep puffs of contentment, you’re arching your back mindlessly in delight. Throat loosening with the motions to-
“Don’t swallow.”
So mean.
You don’t think you’re given the split-second to wonder otherwise before he’s grappling for the pretty column of your throat and kissing you raw.
You’re gasping when his depraved tongue smacks down between the seam of your mouth to lather in every scorching hot mess of sap he’d left behind. The mess that he made. And he was only making it messier.
Watching you through barely-cracked open pupils while he scooped up the sticky webs of seed dangling from your mouth. Scratchy buds taking over. A kiss so filthy that you felt shy to even call it that.
“Mmm—” Geto’s skidding his tongue down the buttered length of his lips, flicking over any stray droplets he could find. And something in his eyes told you that he was mere seconds away from doing it all over again. “Not bad for a first kiss.”
Fuck- what?
“Sugu- what-” You’re panting out measly syllables through the gaps of his sappy mouth. “I-I thought you’d be more…”
“What? A heh- bumbling loser?” His eyes narrow down at you, words purring sexily. “Oh, gorgeous…”
Fuck, and if the rasping growl in his tone didn’t shut you up, the way that Geto’s throwing you onto the bouncy bed sure does.
He doesn’t have a care in the world, he doesn’t have a single thought other than ripping off your flimsy clothes. Everything but those very same cherry pink panties you’d teased up at him, well- more see-through than anything right now.
Kneeing apart your jittery legs to watch the way your cunt gushes in pure need. Lips curling into a leer at the way she winks up at him through filthy masses of slick.
“Sh-she’s mine now, isn’t she?” Rumbling out, eyes wide. Unfocused. And the look on Geto’s face made white-hot trills sprint down your spine - ones you couldn’t decode between primal need and fear. “She’s…”
Ptwah!
The vicious goblet of spit that hits you this time is somehow even meaner than the last, striking at the very top of your sobbing pussy and disappearing riiiight between your folds.
“Mine.” Awestruck, Geto bullies one capped knee to smooch up against your slit. Gleaming his heated skin with the bucketloads of cute sap that you kept pouring out by the second. Geto was greedy, he was grunting. “Beg for it, omega.”
You’re squirming underneath him impatiently, clawing all over his unmoving wrists. You ached all over for something. Anything. “Don’t- don’t wanna-”
But Geto had ten times your strength and wasn’t afraid of using it. Oh, he wasn’t afraid of using it - wasn’t afraid of pinning down both your trembly hands on the bed springs with one of his. Rutting his knee up even more mercilessly, murking his pheromones until it burned of salt and spice. “Beg.”
You mewl, “P-please-”
“No stuttering.”
“Please.” And if that wasn’t enough, you’re batting your lacquered lashes up at Geto in exactly the way you knew was his weakness. Exactly the way that got you the second-highest GPA for so long. Jutting your back the perfect curvature off of the bed, “I’ll let you k-keep my panties, Suguru—?”
“Oh, giiiirl—” He husks out, leaning in so close to plant a yearning snog on your mouth. Blushing pink lips wrapping around your tongue and sucking. You always got what you wanted. “M’keeping those regardless.”
In his special drawer for all your slutty underwear, of course.
And just as soon as Geto’s kissing your lips, he’s trekking his way downwards to make sure that your other ones don’t feel left out.
“Look at her.” He breathes, words taking on an airy tone that makes him sound as if he was furious. Blistering with the anger that he’s been deprived of the heavenly proximity of your soft, seeping cunt for so long. “H-heh, if o-only those tch- popular friends of yours could see. Just look- look how wet she is f’me. All me.”
A fattened thumb fringes past your panties, and you flinch at the cold press of his silver rings. Rovering all the way to greet your puffy pussylips in languid drags uuuuup and down, pricking his manicured fingernail on the button of your clit.
Geto’s hooded lids widen, heat rushing all over his cheeks at the sloppy squelches he draws out. So easily. Adorably.
And it was true - he did have a tattoo. A splashing inking of a dragon all across Geto’s muscled back, somehow making him even more unintentionally hotter.
“And look how loud mmm–” He’s kissing the mound of your folds like a lover, lingering. Loving. Stealing deeeeep gasps of your scent, “M’gonna ruin you. Ngh- ohhh, m’gonna r-ruin you, gorgeous. Ruin ya for anyone else.”
And when Geto meant he was going to ruin you - he meant it.
“Shit.” He was going to mush his pretty features up into your sopping wet pussy until you could feel every minute, warm pant. Staring right up into the target of your fuzzy heart-eyes, “How do you- how do you taste so good.”
Every gasp he’s drinking in of your murked perfumed pheromones, showering ‘round every sense and making him dizzy.
“Squeeze- wanna feel-”
And maybe it’s his rut, maybe it’s the way your tension was so thick - but you instantaneously know what to do.
To close your legs in a deadlock around Geto’s oily scalp. Your weighty eyelids bat up and down subconsciously at the attractive way he was digging his bulging biceps into the sides of your thighs. Pulling you in closer and closer and closer. “That turns you on, huh?”
But that wasn’t all- oh, that wasn’t what he was making out with your cute cunt and begging for.
His mouth lathers over with a fresh bout of watery spit the moment your rubbery ring of muscle clench all around him. Making every ridge of his hot tongue catch on your gooey innards, the texture of it enough to drive you positively wild.
“Sh-shiiit–” You’re letting out a primal groan, clawing at his tattooed back. Chest shuddering underneath the strain of one powerful hand pinning you down. Holding you painfully still. “Suguru- want more. More.”
Slipping his slick tongue in and out of your fluttery hole, Geto keens at the way your entrance kept on trying to suck him back in.
“Fuckin’ know-” In one second, he’s pushing his cloudy glasses up his nose, and in the other he pries apart your puffed lips and caresses. “Yer turning into a fucking w-waterpark, dirty girl. Even wetter than all that p-porn I learned from…”
You’re whimpering, legs falling further n’ further open until it burned your inner quads. No matter how deeply Geto stuffed his face between them it just wouldn’t be enough.
It was almost as if…
“Heat.” He’s slurring a looong lap of his grooved tastebuds all over the lustre of your sweet, sweet juices. Free hand wrapping at his favorite position around your neck and making sure to angle your head so that you catch the twinkling droplets of slick pouring down his tongue. “You’re in heat, little omega.”
Gasping, “W-what?”
But it made sense. It was falling into place and that only made you wetter.
With a smirk, Geto swats your hands until they tangle into his silken tresses. “Lemme take care of you.” SWAT! The plapping sensation hits you before the realization that he’d run his crowned digits over to spank your perked clit. “Ngh- just sit tight n’ let your nerdy ol’ Sugu here take g-goood care of you.”
He was pleading with you - begging you - to latch onto his pretty locks and grind your pussy in repeated gyrations all over his face. Guiding him, using the hook of his pert nose as the perfect ridge to rest your throbbing clit on.
“Th-thank you, alpha—” Too good. You were giving into something baser, to let your head loll into the cushy pillow behind you in sweeping motions. And it was so cute he could cum.
“Yeah? Who- who?”
“You, Suguru.”
“Damn right.”
With every drag of his hoarse syllables, Geto was trawling his face across every inch between the beautiful legs that you had to offer.
Purposefully.
You’re holding back his endless, inky strands just to admire how pretty he looked. How ravenous. Greedy.
Fuck, Geto was making up for all these years he spent parched. Spitting out streak after streak of spittle that made your pussy pour out all over his snogging mouth. “Gonna- gonna fuck you like this w’my cock next.”
His tongue folds into your slobbery hole and slithers into every tender orifice - so staggeringly long that you were feeling a lump in your own throat.
Just a few flops into your earliest magical spots and Geto could already hear the way you were fighting to hide your little sobs.
“Th-this right here-” He’s probing a finger underneath the panties that stuck to your cunt like adhesive, letting it spring back to hit you with a smack! Tittering at your yelp, “S’mine.”
Rubbing a fat few crowns of his fingerpads at the tender area underneath the base of your pussy. Pressing down. Hard. “And her? All the w-way from here-”
Drawing sensual patterns up, up uuuup all the way to your sensitive clit, and oh- it felt so right to have him draw sultry little hearts on your weepy hood.
Tugging it over to nip underneath one sharp canine - one that you swear had grown even longer in the last few minutes. Geto was gone in the depths of his rut, hallowing out his cheeks to eat you out as if he was a man starved. And you were his favorite dessert. “To here? S’mine, too.”
RIIIIIP—!
Through your glossy heaps of tears, you can make out the fuzzy shapes of Geto tearing your satiny underwear into tatters. Balling it up into a wad of sugarcoated fabric that he unapologetically stuffs in your drivelling mouth.
“Gonna add these t-to my collection.” You feel him smile against the outer edges of your claggy cunt, tittering at the stupid way your overspilling lips slacken with a soggy pwah! You’re hearing and feeling a long-winded woooosh from below once he takes a deeeep breath in with his over-delicate senses. “Th-thereeee we go. Cum all over my mouth, gorgeous.”
And if you were in any better state of mind perhaps you’d have noticed the way that Geto’s driving his hips into the bed like a damn dog when he sensed your scent peaking. Sensed you getting closer.
Ragged breaths striking your quivering pussy mercilessly and making your teeth sink desperately into the muggy jumble of underwear in your mouth.
Your broken moans burst out even through that particular watergate, right along with a slithery trickle of saliva and a huff of “S-Suguru—” Craning your head to watch his nostrils flare with knowing, “Close- clo- cumming.”
Eyes flashing. Heart thumping not just within your rib cage.
When it rains, it pours.
But you weren’t just pouring - you were flooding.
Such glutinous ropes of your orgasm, it sprays Geto’s sexy face in squirts. Clinging onto the edge of his glasses and forming little puddles right at the apples of his high cheeks.
Suddenly, you were oh-so-thankful for the way he’d stuffed your mouth mercilessly full - because by the rusted rasp in your throat, you’re sure you’re singing out shrill trills loud enough that his neighbors would file a noise complaint.
But that was the last thing on his mind.
The last thing- well, fuck, it wasn’t on his mind at all. Geto’s cooing at how unstable you feel, treacherous fingers mazing across your fat clit and giving her a goood few pushes just the way he would with his gameboys.
“Good girl-” he spits into your gapingly widened cunt, still suffering from the remnant tremors of your high and still slopping out wads of juices. Like a mantra, Geto’s dark brows scrunch in concentration, “Good girl good girl gooood fucking girl.”
Words hitching up into something shrill near the edge, he sounded as if he was fraying his sanity with every droplet of slick you pumped into his mouth. With every single second.
Pushing his aching hot cock deeper and deeper into the sullied sheets. More. He needed more.
Every sloppy swivel of your widely pried-apart pussy on his tongue made him leave an open-palmed smack! on your thigh. Other hand traipsing to pin your hips down with his big, vein-decorated forearm.
He doesn’t want to let go.
You’re barely letting off a whine at the lack of friction before Geto lets his mouth depart from your cunt with a soggy pwah! Leaving a final few French kisses on his favorite sweet orifice, he’s pecking a loooong open-mouthed pathway up to your loosened maw.
“Good girl…” He hiccups, clammy forehead sticking against yours. Each syllable struggles to wrench past the leaden ball slowly forming on Geto’s mouth.
The syrup-glazed lenses of his glasses clash into you, and Geto himself seems to notice. “Look what a fuckin’ mess ya made.” He’s gruffing out at the thick topping of oozing gloss that made the frame impossible to see through.
Immediately pulling back a few millimeters to take them off and dump them on your own nose bridge. Unceremoniously.
And it was so wet.
Almost as wet as Geto’s features were - all showered in gunky dredges of glistening sap. It streaks all the way from his pointed chin and up to his handsome cheekbones. Beads of it hitting your panting chest in a pat! pat! pat!
Heaving out a shaky exhale, he’s pushing away a few elegant strands of charcoal bangs.
“M’gonna…m’gonna fuck you now.” Sounding more as if he was talking to himself rather than you. Or perhaps both. Puffy folds being rubbed all raw with the depraved back and forth of his veiny under-shaft. “Gonna fuck you. So take it- take it.”
Geto stares deep into your whirling eyes while he sinks his hefty cock into you just as thoroughly. A clingy film sticks to his gaze, dazed and all half-hooded that you wondered if he could even register what was in front of him.
Crazed.
And he’s such a fucking tease, too.
Creating a slimy trail of pasty pre all over your weakened inner thighs, he drags his bawling divot all over every stretch of your entrance. Around and around in circles.
“B-big, huh? Better take it b-before I- make it- fit-” He’s echoing, dimples peaking out at the cute way your breath hitches once you feel the sheerly massive circumference of his fat tip. “Shhhh shh sh, s’alright- s’where you’re m-meant to ngh- be.”
Even for an alpha, he was always staggering - but having him stuffing you to the brim would be a whole other feeling. Would have you ruined.
You’re peering up at him through humid lashes, borrowed glasses smearing wet splotches of slick underneath your skin. Eventually, those panties had found themselves spilling out of your unfastened jaw, “Meant to- hah! be?”
“Mhmmm— pretty omega.” You’re hit with a sudden wave of coaxing pheromones, the gentle salty breeze making your hips buck subconsciously upwards. Subconsciously aching. “This s’where you’re ngh- meant to be.”
And as much as Geto loved hearing whiny questions bubble their way up to your spit-layered lips, oh- was it so much more fun to eye down at your speechless self when he snugly squeezes just a mere sensual inch.
Leaning back to watch the way his bustling cock was stretching and stretching and stretching your tender walls flawlessly. You were taking him so ridiculously well.
“Fuh-fuck you-” His plush pecs rumble with his bass from above, words tumbling. Hips rolling. And Geto was fucking gone- staring at you with wide, humorless eyes that you doubt were even seeing. “Fuck you- m’fucking you…fuck you fuck you fuck!”
With every sharp fah! being whirled into your loose mouth, Geto rubs his puffed-up veins into the tender mound of your cunt. You can’t help but count every rapid ba-dump—! his achy length throbs.
Desperately. Rutting and rutting just to fit himself inside.
Around the time he’s only halfway in, Geto circles one hand over his drenched base to skid taut O’s at the edge of your hole. Nudging his fat girth past your entrance and keening-
“M-more!” You’re barking out primally, your tongue tied into all sorts of bows and ribbons with the way this stretch was searing. And it was the best sort of tight fit, you were practically drooling all over again at the fleshy thwack! of Geto’s rounded balls smacking your thighs. “More, Sugu—”
“M-more…?”
It wasn’t just you - your luna needed more, too.
You’re nodding and nodding- only to realize with a harsh muffle of Geto’s palm over your noisy mouth that he wasn’t even talking to you.
No, he was tittering away in a small sort of voice. Octaves higher. Strained. Goosebumps smatter all across your skin at the way he sounded so unstable.
“More…” Irises flashing a glowy purple, fingers twitching where he held you. A loser like him. A nerd like him. “M-more she says.”
Fuck.
Without another word - without another breath - Geto’s flipping you around with only one beefy palm clawing at your hip. Shoving your face deep into the puff of his nerdy pillows, he’s bottoming out with just one thrust-
You think you scream, you think you bawl once you feel his plummy mushroom head draw a long line of pre along the insides of your cervix. And your pussy felt so full you could burst, your walls crushed with all overpacked inches of his.
Finally.
“Thaaaat’s it, that’s it-” He’s grunting through furiously clenched teeth, a hand crowning the back of your scalp and muffling your words into the bed. Hard. Fuck- he was going to pass out if you made another pretty sound. “S’where you belong.”
Ah, there it is - that little broken prayer.
Except, this time it was being respired in boiling hot pants against the tips of your ears. Was being wheezed out of Geto when he lurches his sweat-simmered hips back to hit your ass with a resounding pap!
“All f-fucked dumb on my ngh- biiig fucking cock, hm?” He tilts your head up with one hand, smiling to himself once he catches a glittery flash of spit leaking from your lips. “All…” A warm splatter! strikes your back, and only then do you realize that he’s slobbering. “Mine.”
And where Geto was talking all possessively - he was fucking you even more so.
In the blink of an eye, he’s planting two sets of fingers on either of your wrists and pulling all the way back, back, back. A length foot being placed right at the small of your spine to get you to bend in a delicious arch-
“Fuck!” Your cute voice rings hoarse, like music to his blushing ears. Struggling to regain the gasps of air leaving your lungs, “There- th-there.”
Oh, shit.
The way Geto was manhandling you was not only bending you in all sorts of lecherously pliable ways that had your slit dripping, it was making his rotund cockhead stub oh-so-viciously into your cervix.
Rough. Probing.
“H-heh, guess I lost my first kiss there, too.” He’s giggling out, biting down on the rugged mewls that threaten to depart every time your cunt swallows him whole. “Congrats on being my ngh- first, little omega— yer e-even better than my ngh- bodypillows of you.”
Bending you over ever-deeper, honestly- your walls were cloying onto him so desperately that it was making Geto’s heart pang with disappointment every time his ruddied tip recoiled back from the bottom of your sloppy pussy.
He wanted to be this close to you forever.
Treacling out stringy wads of pre, he’s furrowing brows and making sure each n’ every jackhammer fills you up impossibly.
You can barely grapple for air at this point, the sloshes of syrup left after each barrelling strike leaving you star-struck.
He grins, “Shit, d-do ya ever stop fuckin’ drooling? Gonna hafta call the f-fire department, girl.”
“Can’t help it–!” All you can do it let your mouth unlatch to warble whimper after whimper–
“C’mon now, gorgeous- aren’t ya ashamed?” Licking his lips free of your taste, Geto diverts more pressure to his foot. Hefty balls rippling wickedly against the sobbing end of your slit with just how easy you were to throw around like his favorite toy. Like his favorite figurines. “Look at what a mess yer making. Being fucked so f-filthy. And I haven’t even ngh- found it, yet.”
Haven’t found it. Oh, but he knew he was going to. He was going to make you scream.
Your syrupy whines slip into something desperate, “Y-you don’t know…?”
“Of course I f-fuckin’ know. Who d’ya think you’re ngh talking to?” As if you could forget you were being thoroughly pounded by the smartest person on campus right now. And evidently the filthiest, too.
A ringed finger treks down to your sensitive nub, soothing over where you were throbbing the most violently. Cute. Lulling you into a sweet, sweet state of bliss before Geto pinches–
“Oh p-please!” You’re targeting your hazy vision over your shoulder, and somewhere along the lines Geto’s spectacles had slid cleanly off of you. Toes curling as his bloated head bludgeons just the creamy edges near your g-spot. “Please- y-you’re so close, Suguru-”
You didn’t know whether it was your heat or just Geto that had you so desperate. Your sparkless mind blames the latter.
“Am I?” He hums, leaning over so that the soft tendrils of his hair tickled your back.
Whacking his painfully achy crownhead mere centimeters below your magical spots, and you’re starting to think he’s doing this on purpose.
Geto starts holding it there for lingering French snogs into the steamy inner depths of your cunt and then you know he’s doing this on purpose. Spitting in your mouth with a smile.
That mean bastard.
Jittering your hips to chase the texture of his curly pubic hair against your ass, he snickers. “Are you ngh- suuuure? You haven’t done a s-single one of your ngh- human biology essays lately, dirty girl.”
You’re molding your lips into a pout - difficult, with just how many loads of saliva were pouring out of you and cementing a puddle onto the Digimon pillows. “F-fuck you.”
“No…” You set free a gasp of air you didn’t know you were holding the very second he lets go of the rough foot anchoring your spine, instead- in only mere nanoseconds you find yourself jerked up into Geto Suguru’s hold with a hand at your throat. Back gluing against his glissading abs, even his voice was unbalanced and trembling now. “I’m fucking you, little omega.”
And you were about to remember it.
With an immediate pitch of his gasping breaths, Geto’s angled hips go from steadily ruined to sloppy. Calculated.
He didn’t care if he made a mess of stringy slick that circled in the satiny sheets around the two of you, he didn’t care if your eyes were bulging out of their poor sockets when his pronounced hips dig into your backside with blistering bruises.
He didn’t care for anything but digging the curled fringe of his fatly bloated tip right into the target of your g-spot.
Mazing through your gluey folds and keeping them snugly open with his reddened girth, Geto knocks your sweetest spots with vengeance.
“There–!” You call out, as if he hadn’t already felt the gooey seize of your pussy trying to hold him hostage.
His mouth trudges over your throat, fingers roaming over to give your clit a nice few pinches. Meaningfully, “Here? Orrrr–” Punctuating each word, each second with a thorough drilling into your g-spot. “-here? Make up th-that ditzy lil’ mind. Seriously.”
Your head drunkenly crashes on top of his collarbone and stays there, “R-right here- there. Both, Sugu.”
“Again with the f-fucking Sugu-” Geto snarls out, though you can sense by his cloudy scent that he was anything but irritated with you.
Your whines had quietened down into something more of an incoherent mess, and the main things ringing in Geto’s ears right now were the creaky protests of his bed and the clammy plops of his thrusts.
“C’mon now— where’s my bossy fuck! omega? The one who loves her poor, nerdy Sugu?”
Arousal reaching a peak, and now that he’d found your g-spot, he was probing into it with fat thuds. Not just once or twice. Nooooo, it was over and over and-
“Just w-wanna cum—” you’re sobbing out. Jerking your body like a bobble-head up and down to further feel the drag of his Herculean form behind you, to savor each ridge and sculpted curve sweatily massaging your back. “P-pleeeeease, Suguru. Let me cum?”
Swerving his tensing hips out alllll the way back to leave solid smooches ‘round your pussy entrance each and every time, and then there were the squelches-
Oh, you were just flooding a slippery sheen all over his hefty, swelling base. A viscid luster of slick that glided all the way down to drip off of his sack n’ between his legs.
Your eyes manage to snatch themselves open- hissing at the realization that it was pooling especially around that particularly ballooned-up ring right over Geto’s breeder balls.
Was that? With a shiver you’re rutting backwards, feeling for yourself the slow drag of his proud knot. Bigger than any else you’ve ever seen. It was.
You rasp, throat itchy and raw. Sweltering droplets of tears streaming down your cheeks when he matches the stuttering beat of your heart with every pressurized push- “P-please.”
“Needy thing. Cum, huh?” Geto drawls out, voice thick with need and something else you were too stupid to register right now. He collides you even tighter against rippling pecs. Taking the sweet, sweet opportunity to poke his nose into your scent gland and steal a looooong breath of your overdriven pheromones.
“Cum then, c-cum. Fucking cum all over my cock.”
Fuck, it’s with those exact words in mind that you do.
Startling straight headfirst into your high - and you don’t think you’ve even crashed into one wave of bliss before the other overtakes you. And another. And another-
“Oh g-god—” You’re trilling, only held up by the ruthless grip that Geto was maintaining. His hips were deep, and your pleasure even deeper. “-please. Please- please, Sugu-”
He’s hunching over your body ever-so-slightly, resting your thighs against his thick, flexing ones. Only bending you over to kiss your g-spot even more sinfully, Geto’s response comes out ragged into your lobes. “Tch, wh-what now?”
His ruby-red tip was blushing like a strawberry and just as plump - swirling around your treasure trove of spots, pounding you through each peak of your orgasm until you saw stars.
“Cum i-insiiiide-” Your barely-audible groans spring out into the heady air, adding to its hypnotic mix of perfumes. And it’s not just the heat that made you crave Geto carnally, every pap! against the puffy ring at his base making you crave more more more- “Want it a-all up…”
You’re trailing off, melted mind unable to do multiple things at once.
With tottering fingerpads, you’re trapping one of his palms underneath your own. Homing itself right above where his rounded tip was stretching open your insides, right above your womb.
“H-here, okay? Don’t miss-”
You blink up at him and Geto thinks he might just be having a heart attack. Sparks fizzing around his sloshed brain, “Fuh-fuuuuck– don’t talk out of yer pussy, gorgeous.” He spanks your clit once. Twice just to watch your eyes glaze over stupidly. “Or m’gonna get you pregnant.”
Soothing over that faint bulge he was fucking into your tummy, “Gonna h-have my baby growing allll up in here. Make you round and…” His voice sounds faint, whispering. “-big and…glowing. And…and pregnant.”
But, ah- you never did make it easy for him. Did you? Always had to have your way.
Which Geto Suguru gladly gave.
“But I want that, Sugu—” You pout, “Wan’ your knot…please?”
You didn’t have to say another word before Geto’s finishing off in such a messy way, reaching the biggest fucking orgasm he’s had in his entire life. The strongest. The most heavenly and oh- oh, were you an angel?
He’s collapsing onto the drenched sheets before he knows it, pinning you down with the strong v-line of his hips.
“Shit-” Geto emits through the cracks in his bitten canines. “Shit shit shit- shit-”
You don’t know who’s losing their mind more, you or him. Falling into the well of a second, third, perhaps even fourth orgasm with how blissfully his fattened, split-ended cock bruised every nook of your adhesive-like walls.
Your saliva cascades in puddles that soak the pillows through. “Suguruuu— a-are you okay-”
“Do I look okay?”
Sexily ridged abs kneading your back, hands scrambling on the mattress, inked shoulders shivering. His swollen knot hits and hits your pussymound.
And it’s only once his trembly fingers latch around his glasses - fumbling, dropping it copious times before Geto manages to push them haphazardly onto his face.
Tilting his head back just enough degrees to watch as the curved fringe of his knot disappears past your puffy folds.
“There we- there…” He’s driveling clingy wads of translucent saliva, letting the stray pouring excess hit your fluttering hole with a splat! One eager thumb of Geto’s hooks into your entrance and bullies it aside to let his incredible perimeter sink iiiiiiiiin-
He’s melting into you now, spent. Ruined. “Get pregnant.” Geto whispers into your sweat-glossed shoulder blade once he feels the back of his knot get fully enveloped into your pussy with a gummy pop! Once he feels himself finally tip over- “Get pregnant.”
And it’s not just mindless babbling - it’s a promise.
A promise that he rasps out time and time against with every wadded slip of seed that dollops out across your cervix. Pushing it so deep. Smearing acres of ribbony streaks all over your most precious orifices and spots.
“Gonna know wh-what we did.” Geto whimpers, shit- he couldn’t pound his voluminous ounces of cum into you as aggressively as he wanted with this damn knot. “Entire campus. Professors. Everyone’s gonna know ngh- how I fucked ya full. F-fucked you pregnant. Gonna wonder.”
But that didn’t stop him from trying.
That didn’t stop him from wrenching out a hand to squeeze the ends of your sopping wet slit, forcing down on his very knot. Squeezing out so many numerous dredges of syrupy white cum that thwack! thwack! thwacks! a filthy second skin against your walls.
“Fuh-fuuuuck— get pregnant, gorgeous.” He’s rutting. Grinding. Humping you like some beast more than man. “Gonna l-look at you all round n’ big and see me- me me me. Get pregnant get pregnant get-”
Geto’s mouth parts at the pearly dewdrops of seed that leak from the overstuffed ends of your cunt. He can feel his entire body twitch, can feel his sharpened teeth lacquer so rabidly.
He still wasn’t done.
Still letting one prespired forearm of his dangle around your neck, manhandling you into a fucking headlock. The other tracing the edges of his digits over your glands, squeezing until your skin was all tender and raw.
And puffy.
Perfect for him to tilt his head and bite—
“Ohhh- yes!” Every fibre of your being delights at the way Geto’s biting you so hard that you can smell crimson iron. Your pheromone bubble pops! to mix together with his own. Becoming one. And you can scent him - you can feel him.
Glasses clashing, teeth tearing. Before you know it, you’re doing the same. “Suguruuuu— m’yours.”
Your mate latches onto the curves of your hips - your soon-to-be birthing hips.
And the way Geto rediscovers that - tucking his face into the ruined, drenched fabric of those cherry pink panties and taking an endless, husky sniff - tells you that this was going to be a long, loooong night.
sukuna cracks open his wallet as the waitress shimmies away with the bill, licking over the thick pad of his thumb as he unfolds and cards through the stack of bills all nestled in the back of the leather. you watch him with low, shadowed eyes, pretending not to notice the giddy shake in your knee as he sums up the worth of your presence.
much to your dismay, he pulls out $100.
that’s it.
“here, baby doll.” he hums, voice a low growl in the back of his throat. you shiver against it, biting your lip as he lowers the bill between your thighs. “open up.”
you do, parting your knees, letting him get under your skirt and under your thigh-length socks, slipping the money under the elastic, dark waistband. his touch lingers unapologetically — you two are exposed, but he doesn’t care. the entire place should know you’re his.
bravely, you whisper, “that’s it? just a hundred?”
“i’m not taking you home, am i? told me you had a big test to study for. so… yes, only a hundred for tonight.”
you scoff, painted lips parting as the server draws near, smiling to secure her final tip from the elusive, older man. “sir… that simply will not do.”
sukuna turns his nose up at you, dark eyes low, and grey-stubbled chin high. he’s beckoning you to the ground with words unsaid, and you’re not bending. not when your money comes down to it.
“there you go. arch that back like you’re worth something.”
sukuna’s got you restrained in a shiny pair of cuffs, wrists crossed at your back as you work yourself on his cock, whining from how hard it is when you don’t have the stability of your hands. right now, there’s only a $100 bill on the bed — that same bill that he slid between your thighs earlier, and is expecting you to work yourself up to a higher prize.
of course, under his conditions.
your sugar daddy has always been a cruel, old man, but what’s more cruel right now is the obscene stretch of his cock splitting you open.
you’re on fire, face all sweaty and flush, eyes leaking more tears than your needy cunt, taking him in like he never left. the lack of control is overwhelming, but your man is a stickler for perfection — for trust and respect. sensory deprivation is only a tool, and he’s the one holding the screw.
wad of cash in-hand, sukuna stands on his knees, shirtless, thick hair-covered chest catching the shadows of the dull room lights. “all the way… that’s another two hundred.” he throws down another couple of bills, letting them flutter over your back and tumble away.
“it…. ‘s too much.”
“so you tell me often.” he tries to cover the shake in his voice with a hum, but you catch it. your knees go weak, sending you face-first into the sheets. “ach— now you’re down fifty.” sukuna leans over you, huge body covering yours as he snatches your prize right back in his huge fist.
you whine as the new position pushes the rest of his grueling length inside of you, voice gone and shaking as you cry into the mattress, begging with words unsaid and useless little noises that you know he needs to hear.
your body sucks him up like you're made for him, lewd, wet noises creating a song between your heated bodies as he sits back up, grinding into your ass, hands on your hips. "there you are... you just earned it back."
"p-please," you cry, hips absentmindedly bucking back into his hard pelvis, rocking with the weight of his being.
"please, what? who?" he lets you toy with him as he fingers through another stack of two bills, oddly underwhelmed and so focused on the task at hand that he's not even watching the way your eager cunt swallows him up, fluttering and begging for more that he can't give.
"please... sir... need you..."
"like it when you beg." he hums, strong hands on your hips, massaging the flesh as he rocks in and out, slowly, maddeningly.
and when you cum, you're covered in it — his money. at the end of the night, you're a thousand dollars richer, and weak in the knees as he helps you to your feet, silent and stern, yet caring in the only way he knows how to be as he cleans you up... until next time.
synopsis ~ months of longing. a week at a beach house. one shared bed, too much tension and too little self control. suguru geto has spent far too long wanting his friend’s roommate. far too long trying not to ruin her. unfortunately for him, when she shows up to spring break looking at him like that, he fails spectacularly.
tags ~ 18+ mdni !!! idiots in fucking love, yearning yearning yearning, geto's a masterclass yearner, lowkey slowburn? friends to lovers-ish, mutual pining, praise kink, dirty talk, pet names, oral fixation, piv sex, creampie, marking, size difference, belly bulge, light possessiveness, aftercare, geto's just down bad and i love him and i love this
a/n ~ gosh this was toooo much fun to write. decided to make this one a long(er) oneshot compared to the multi parts i had for choso n gojo, bc it made more sense with the plot i had in mind! hopefully all of u lovelies enjoy ;) and sorry for the wait <3
w/c ~ 17.4 k (youch i got carried away)
access the frat verse here!
your roommate brings it up three days before finals week officially starts, which already tells you the idea is terrible. the two of you are sitting cross-legged on the floor of your apartment living room surrounded by open textbooks, half-folded laundry, and empty instant noodle containers.
she’s supposed to be writing a paper. instead, she’s online shopping for bikinis. “i actually can’t do this anymore,” she announces dramatically, laptop balanced on her thighs. “if i read one more discussion post i’m walking into traffic.”
you hum absentmindedly, highlighting a paragraph without processing any of it.
outside, rain taps against the windows in soft uneven bursts. campus looks gray and muddy and exhausted. even the frat houses have gone quieter this week. everyone’s studying, or pretending to.
your roommate suddenly gasps. “spring break,” she says.
“what about it?”
“we should go to your beach house.”
that gets your attention. you look up slowly from your laptop. “we?”
“yes, we.” she tosses a sock at you. “like. everyone.”
“everyone…us girls? or—”
“no, the frat too,” she says, smiling. “i want choso to be there.”
you roll your eyes, focusing back on your notes. she’s been glued to her boyfriend’s hip ever since they got together. it’s almost sickening, if they weren’t so perfect for each other. you’re rarely in the house alone anymore.
“dunno if that’s a good idea,” you say, because your brain immediately supplies the image of suguru geto.
it’s geto. always geto.
your roommates notices your change in expression instantly. the grin that spreads across her face is immediate and evil. “oh my god.”
you narrow your eyes. “don’t.”
“you thought about him first.”
“i literally didn’t,” you mumble, pushing your glasses up your nose.
“you literally did.”
you throw the sock back at her head and she dodges it, laughing. “you’re soooo weird about him.”
and she’s right. you are weird about him. not in an obvious way, no. whatever thing between you and geto occurs in fragments. in pauses and glances held half a second too long.
eye tag.
that’s what gojo called it once after catching the two of you staring at each other across the frat kitchen while everyone else argued over beer pong rules. “you guys do this every time,” he’d said.
you’d denied it immediately. geto had just looked away.
your roommate clasps her hands together. “please invite them. choso already said yes if you say yes.”
“you asked him before asking me?”
“well, yes.”
you sigh, rubbing your forehead. “the house isn’t huge.”
“it has four bedrooms.”
“one of them barely counts,” you point out.
“we can make it work.”
your parents are never at the beach house this time of year, anyways, and know you’re responsible enough to handle it on your own.
it’s few hours from campus along a quieter part of the shoreline. you haven’t been in almost a year.
the thought of ocean air instead of stale lecture halls makes you exhale slightly.
“aha,” your roommate says, pointing at you. “that was a considering face.”
“it was not.”
“come on. it’ll be fun.”
“it’ll be loud.”
“only a little.”
“imagine bonfires,” your roommate says dreamily.
“imagine property damage.”
“imagine volleyball.”
“imagine bail money.”
you already know you’re going to cave. despite everything the rest has somehow become tangled into your life over the past semester. in the middle of late-night food runs and campus events and parties is geto’s face and how you notice him before he notices you almost every time.
at parties, he’s usually tucked somewhere quieter while everybody else spirals around him in chaos. sitting on kitchen counters, leaning against walls with a drink untouched in his hand. watching. and eventually his eyes find yours, every single time.
the first few times it happened you thought you imagined it. you? nerd you? suguru geto looking at you?
but it kept happening. across crowded rooms and across lecture halls.
“you’re thinking about him again,” your roommate says.
it’s his deep voice and calmness and the way he rolls his sleeves to his elbows when he’s focused. the exhaustion constantly sitting beneath his eyes lately because he’s balancing classes and internship applications and responsibilities and everybody else’s problems too.
“shut up,” you say weakly.
“i’m texting choso. this is happening.”
you sigh, knowing that once your roommate wants something to go her way, it’s happening.
how bad can the trip really go, anyway?
“gojo’s already asking if the beach house has speakers.”
“tell him yes, but the neighbours don’t like noise past 10pm.”
“geto says he can drive.” your roommate looks up at you, chewing her lip, and you’re suddenly very interested in the notes you’ve been trying to read over.
now you’re imagining geto driving, one hand on the wheel, ocean air and his stupid rings glinting under the dashboard lights
you stand abruptly, gathering your notes before your imagination gets worse.
thursday - eight days from departure
geto realizes he’s in trouble on a thursday night while half-drunk freshmen scream-sing nextdoor to music that sounds like somebody attacking a speaker with a hammer. he’s sitting at the frat dining table with an untouched beer beside his laptop, trying to finish an internship application before midnight.
keyword : trying.
because you’re here. you’re not even doing anything particularly distracting either. you’re sitting cross-legged on the couch in one of those oversized university sweaters, glasses sliding slightly down your nose while you argue with choso’s girlfriend over how many bags of chips are too many for one week at the beach house.
you shouldn’t be this difficult to ignore, and yet geto’s cursor has been blinking on the same sentence for six minutes.
gojo and toji yell something at each other from across the room. everyone starts talking over each other, except for choso, who’s curled into his girlfriend’s side, and you.
you stay focused, tapping at your laptop with concentration pulling your brows together slightly. geto watches your mouth move while you talk.
that’s becoming a problem too. noticing little things. the tiny crease between your eyebrows when you’re annoyed. the way you tuck your legs underneath yourself without thinking.
it’s gotten worse recently, or maybe he’s just stopped pretending it hasn’t been happening. for months now, every room he walks in feels altered slightly if you’re there.
he hates how aware he’s become of you. worse, you notice him too.
geto’s not stupid. he sees the way your eyes snag on him before flicking away. the pauses, the tension, that look you get when he stands too close.
it’s there constantly, like static humming between you both.
“geto.” your voice cuts clean through his thoughts.
he looks up immediately. you’re staring at him from across the room now, brows raised slightly. his stomach does something deeply irritating. “yeah?”
“you haven’t answered a single thing we asked.”
gojo grins instantly from the kitchen island.
“he was staring at you.”
geto doesn’t react outwardly. years of dealing with satoru have made his self-control nearly supernatural.
you, unfortunately, do react. irritation flashes visibly across your face before you glare at gojo. “oh my god, shut up.”
“am i wrong?”
“yes,” both you and geto say at the exact same time.
toji starts laughing so hard he nearly chokes. “jesus christ,” he mutters. “you two are painful.”
geto drags a hand down his face slowly. you’re suddenly very interested in your spreadsheet.
cute.
“i made categories,” you explain, stuttering over the last word as you regain composure. “colour coded. it’s a shared excel sheet so you can all access it too.”
geto smiles softly. you’re focused and bossy and pretty. he thinks he should probably stop looking at you like that.
“okay,” you say, tapping the couch. “can everyone e-transfer me their share tonight so i can book groceries in advance?”
gojo raises a hand. “no. actually, toji and i pass.”
you run a hand down your face. “what?”
“we’re the entertainment,” he explains, like it makes total sense.
“eighty dollars, each of you, please,” you say, tilting your head back. “i hate all of you.”
“that’s not true,” gojo says. “You like suguru.”
the room goes quiet instantly. choso coughs into his drink. gojo’s girlfriend physically turns away to hide her smile.
gojo points between the two of you lazily.
“the vibes are crazy.”
“there are no vibes,” you say immediately.
“you look flustered,” toji notes helpfully.
everybody starts talking over each other again while you try defending yourself with rapidly deteriorating success. geto says nothing, because while the others laugh and argue his eyes stay on you.
you can feel it too. he knows you can. that tension pressing tighter every time your gazes meet.
your eyes lift to his and his gaze flicks to your mouth for one brief, horrible second.
you both look away just as fast.
sunday - five days from departure
your bedroom looks like a clothing store exploded. bikinis draped over desk chairs, shorts hanging off your bedframe, three different pairs of sandals abandoned in the middle of the floor. “i hate everything,” you announce.
your roommate barely glances up from where she’s laying across your bed with choso half beneath her like a human mattress. “dramatic.”
“none of this looks right.”
“you’ve changed outfits six times.”
“because i look weird.”
“you literally don’t.”
you turn sideways in the mirror, scrutinizing yourself harder. the dress is just soft black fabric that skims your body, thin straps, lower neckline than what you normally wear. you bought it for some finance networking event your department hosted last month because your mom said you needed “staple outfits.”
your roommate sits up on her elbows finally, exasperated. “you know most people going on beach trips are worried about, like, sunscreen?”
“i am worried about sunscreen.”
“i forgot you made a spreadsheet for sunscreen.”
“uv rays are serious.”
choso laughs quietly from beneath her, hands resting loosely on her thighs. you point at him immediately. “don’t encourage her.”
“i didn’t say anything.”
“the laugh felt judgmental.”
your roommate rolls her eyes before looking back at you properly. “you look hot,” she says flatly. “actually annoyingly hot. if you don’t pack the dress i’m stealing it.”
you scoff softly, turning back toward the mirror. “it’s too much.”
“for who?”
you shrug. some part of you already knows exactly who you’re thinking about, which is ridiculous. you’re literally standing in your bedroom overanalyzing a dress because suguru geto might see it.
your roommate seems seconds away from teasing you about exactly that when choso speaks absentmindedly from the bed.“geto likes that one.”
the room goes silent and you slowly turn around. “…what?”
choso freezes and his eyes widen slightly like he physically felt the mistake leave his mouth in real time.
your roommate lifts her head immediately. “what do you mean geto likes that one?”
“nothing,” choso says too quickly.
“choso,” she says.
“i’m serious.”
you narrow your eyes at him. “how would he even know this dress?”
another pause then choso makes the fatal mistake of hesitating. your roommate gasps dramatically. “OH MY GOD HE DOES KNOW THE DRESS?!”
“baby,” choso says weakly.
“no, no, come back.” she grabs his arm before he can sit up. “what do you mean he likes the dress?”
“i wasn’t supposed to say anything.”
you cross your arms slowly. “that’s an insane sentence.”
choso looks deeply distressed now. your roommate softens instantly though, because unfortunately for choso, she knows exactly how to handle him. she cups his face gently, pressing a tiny kiss against his jaw. “please?” she asks sweetly.
choso exhales heavily through his nose, cheeks going pink. weak man. he folds almost immediately. “okay but you cannot tell geto i said any of this.”
you and your roommate both nod way too fast and he points at both of you suspiciously before continuing. “you wore that dress to the frat one night.”
your brows pinch together slightly. “…when?”
“when you came to pick her up after that finance networking thing.”
oh.you remember that night.
you’d stopped by the frat around midnight because your roommate was too drunk to uber home alone. you were still dressed up from the event downtown. heels hurting. hair done. tired and irritated because gojo had answered the door already yelling.
you hadn’t stayed long, just long enough to drag your roommate upstairs to collect her stuff while half the frat stared at you like they’d never seen a woman before.
apparently including geto.
“what happened?” your roommate asks immediately.
choso rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “nothing happened exactly. some guy made a comment after you left.”
your stomach tightens slightly. “what kind of comment?”
“just saying you looked good or whatever.”
“and?” your roommate presses.
choso sighs. “and geto got weird about it.”
heat crawls instantly up your neck. “weird how?”
“he just…” choso pauses, visibly trying to decide how much to say. “he looked annoyed.”
your roommate’s jaw drops. “he got jealous?”
“well, I dunno, not—”
“choso.”
“i’m serious.”
“what did he say?”
another long sigh. “he said you don’t even realize how pretty you are.”
your roommate physically collapses face-first into the bed, laughing into a pillow. you just stand there your heart suddenly beating way too hard. “that’s not…” you clear your throat softly. “that’s not that serious.”
both of them look at you. your roommate lifts her head slowly. “you are genuinely the dumbest smart person i know.”
“i’m not dumb.”
“he said you don’t know how pretty you are.”
“people say things.”
“not like that.”
choso looks like he regrets existing and unfortunately for him your roommate isn’t done. “what ELSE has he said?”
“nothing,” choso mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.
“liar.”
“baby.”
another soft kiss against his jaw, pretty doe eyes, and you watch the fight leave choso’s body. he groans quietly. “he just asks about you sometimes,” he mumbles, glancing up at you.
your stomach flips again. “asks what?” your roommate says immediately.
“normal stuff.”
“define normal.”
“like if she’s seeing anybody.”
your eyes widen slightly.
“or what her type is,” choso admits.
your roommate grabs your arm so hard you almost lose balance. “i knew it.”
“stop saying that,” you hiss, feeling too warm and out of place in your own body now.
choso keeps talking now that he’s doomed anyway. “there were these guys talking to you outside one of our econ buildings a while ago and geto asked after if you knew them.”
you blink. you remember that too. two business majors from another frat trying very hard to impress you after class. geto had walked by while you were talking to them and you hadn’t thought he even paid attention.
apparently he had.
“and,” choso adds carefully, “he asked if they were bothering you.”
something warm and dangerous and twisting settles low in your stomach, and your roommate looks one second away from planning a wedding. “this is insane.”
“it’s not insane,” you say weakly.
“he likes you.”
“you don’t know that.”
“y/n,” she says flatly. “be serious.”
you sit on the edge of your bed, the black dress clinging to your skin, and now all you can think about is geto noticing it. remembering it. liking it enough to mention it after you’d already gone.
your roommate watches your expression carefully from the bed and then smiles slowly.
friday - day of departure
departure day starts at eleven in the morning and immediately feels cursed. gojo is late, even though the meetup spot is outside the frat. toji's holding an iced coffee and is directing where bags are to be put instead of actually helping. somehow, your roommate's lost one of her sandals already. choso's carrying about fourteen bags (thirteen of which are his girlfriend's) and you?
you're standing in the driveway trying to figure out how seven people accumulated this much luggage for a beach trip. a seven day beach trip. “why do you have three suitcases,” you ask gojo’s girlfriend.
"two of them are satoru's," she says, patting her boyfriend's head, and he grins like a lovesick puppy. "i don't know why he has so many clothes."
geto’s car sits at the curb behind gojo's girlfriend's car - the two drivers for the trip. geto's leaning against it, typing on his phone, and of course the fact that he looks good pre-noon makes your heart pang. you can only imagine what you would look like standing beside him, what with your frizzy hair and crooked glasses.
he's wearing a dark hoodie and shorts, sunglasses pushes up into his hair while choso helps him load luggage into the back. you try not to stare but your brain seems to enjoy self-destruction.
because watching geto lift heavy bags with one hand while calmly reorganizing everybody’s mess should not be attractive.
getp closes his trunk with a final solid thud. "my car's got the most space," he says. "why don't you transfer all the luggage over from the other car?"
your roommate perks up immediately. "perfect."
"there'll be room for one person up front too," geto adds casually. then he looks directly at you. your stomach flips so hard it almost makes you angry.
you glance away first. before you can say literally anything, your roommate beams. "great! y/n'll go with you."
you whip around instantly. "what?"
"you get carsick in crowded backseats," she says innocently.
which is true. unfortunately. “i can survive.”
“and i want leg room,” toji says. "no fuckin' way am i cramming in the back with the lovebirds," he grumbles, pointing to choso and your roomate, "with this fucker in the front." he points his thumb to gojo, who's smiling happily.
"then you can go in the front with geto," you say.
your roommate gives you a deadpan look. gojo's girlfriend sighs.
"toji, just sit in the back, please," choso says quietly. "it's only a two and a half hour ride."
he opens his mouth to retort an excuse but gojo's girlfriend promptly elbows him in the chest. he grumbles but settles in the back of gojo's girlfriend's sedan anyway.
geto looks almost relieved, but he quickly masks it with his typical aloofness.
your roommate grabs your shoulder, grinning ear to ear. "have fun!"
you narrow your eyes at her. “i hope your phone charger breaks.”
gojo leans out the passenger window of the other car. “pee break every forty-five minutes!”
“absolutely not,” both you and geto say simultaneously.
gojo points between you both immediately. “they’re married already.”
you ignore him completely, mostly because geto is already walking around to the passenger side of his car and opening the door for you. which should not affect you this much.
it’s basic manners. normal behavior. except when you pass him, the scent of his cologne mixes with cool morning air and coffee and suddenly your thoughts short-circuit for half a second.
annoying. very, super annoying.
you settle into the seat while geto finishes loading the last bag.
the car smells clean, like sandalwood and detergent and something distinctly geto. you hate that you know what he smells like.
the second he slides into the driver’s seat beside you, the space feels smaller. you feel him glance at you before putting the car into start, and you're driving off, leading the other car behind you.
your phone buzzes immediately.
roomie: have fun on your first date ❤️
you: i’m going to kill you with my bare hands
you shove your phone away quickly before geto can accidentally see. “you have the address?” he asks quietly.
“yeah.” you pull up the map. “did gojo’s girlfriend save it too?”
“i sent it to her twice.”
“good.”
“you don’t trust them?”
you stare out the windshield where gojo is currently hanging halfway out the car window yelling something about his spring break arc. “…should i?”
geto laughs quietly beside you and the sound makes your head spin happily. you don't hear him laugh often, unless he's mocking gojo. this quiet, real laugh is something you notice every single time.
after twenty minutes you hit the highway and you sink back into your seat with a sigh. “finally.”
“you stressed?” geto asks lightly.
“i like plans.”
“i noticed.”
you narrow your eyes slightly. “that sounded judgmental.”
“it wasn’t.”
“mhm.”
he glances at you briefly while turning onto the highway. sunlight catches against the rings on his fingers resting on the steering wheel. your brain immediately decides to become unhelpful so you look out the window instead.
for another few minutes, it’s quiet except for road noise and the distant bass vibrating from the other car behind, then geto taps the screen on the dashboard. “you want music?”
“i don’t mind.”
“you sure?”
“...yeah? why?” you glance over at him.
“because now if you hate my music taste you'll have to be super polite about it and the car ride will be awkward.”
you laugh softly. “i promise it won't be bad. i won't be that harsh.”
his mouth curves slightly before he scrolls through his phone. music fills the car a second later and you recognize it almost instantly.
your head turns before you can stop yourself. “wait,” you say. “is this the smiths?”
geto glances over briefly. “…you listen to the smiths?”
“obviously.”
“obviously?”
“what’s that supposed to mean?”
“nothing,” he says, clearly amused now. “i just didn’t expect it.”
you scoff. “what did you expect?”
he thinks about it for a second. “something old. like classical music.”
"i don't mind classical, but the smiths have always been one of my favourites."
he flashes you a genuine smile, fingers gently tapping the rhythm of the song on the wheel. "i'm glad."
after that, conversation begins to flow easier. favourite albums, worst profs, gojo. (lots of gojo). he says something that makes you snort and that same small, real smile etches onto his lips and god, this is dangerous.
you watch the highway stretch under the pale morning sunlight while trees blur at the edges of the road. after a moment you steal another glance at him. he's relaxed, one arm resting near the window, sunglasses low on his nose.
he's so...pretty.
the thought hits so fast and hard it almost embarrasses you. as if sensing it, geto looks over suddenly. your eyes meet instantly and there it is again. that thing. that horrible, suspended moment where neither of you looks away fast enough.
his gaze flicks down briefly to your mouth then back up. your pulse stutters.
behind you, gojo’s girlfriend's car suddenly swerves slightly as gojo sticks his head out the sunroof, shouting something imperceptible.
the moment breaks. you clear your throat quickly, looking forward again. “they’re going to die before we even get there.”
geto’s laugh rumbles low beside you. “probably.”
gojo’s girlfriend has both hands gripping the steering wheel like she’s transporting explosives. “if you scream one more time,” she says flatly, eyes locked on the road, “i’m pulling over and leaving all of you on the highway.”
“that feels hostile,” gojo says from the passenger seat.
“you barked at a motorcycle.”
“it barked first.”
from the backseat, toji groans dramatically as choso’s girlfriend shifts closer into choso’s side again. “i’m in hell,” he mutters.
“you’re just bitter because nobody wants to cuddle you,” she says cheerfully.
“wrong. women love me.”
“do they?” gojo says from the front, shit-eating grin on his face.
“historically. your mother would know.”
“you don't know shit about my mom,” gojo laughs. “she doesn't have your fucking number.”
“that's cause she gave it to me.”
choso quietly adjusts his arm around his girlfriend’s waist so she can lean more comfortably against him. toji gags loudly. “there they go again,” he says. “the world’s most nauseating couple.”
"you're just single. quadruple-wheeling the trip. us, choso and his girl, and whatever the fuck is going on in geto's car."
toji kicks the back of gojo’s seat and the car swerves slightly.
everyone yells immediately. “if we die,” gojo’s girlfriend says through gritted teeth, “i’m haunting all of you.”
“you’d look hot as a ghost,” gojo says instantly.
she snorts despite herself. from the backseat, choso’s girlfriend glances down at her phone.
“they’re probably having the most awkward car ride ever right now.”
gojo twists around immediately. “you think they’ve kissed yet?”
“it’s been thirty minutes,” choso says.
“exactly.”
“they’re not kissing,” his girlfriend says, though she sounds deeply unconvinced.
toji stretches his long legs out miserably. “they do have weird tension though.”
choso’s girlfriend smiles to herself a little, gaze drifting toward the road ahead where geto’s car moves steadily a few lengths in front of them. “i think they’re both just nervous,” she says softly.
“geto?” gojo laughs loudly. “nervous over a girl?”
if only they saw how bright geto's smile was right now as you talked animatedly about how well your finals went. with you and your legs propped up on the dash, smooth and perfect and he couldn't stop staring without seeming weird. how his heart skipped a beat every time one of your perfect smiles were directed to him.
if only they knew how gone for you he really was.
the second the beach house comes into view, everyone in the other car completely loses their minds. your phone starts vibrating before geto’s even finished pulling into the driveway.
SPRING BREAKKUHH
gojo: HOLY SHIT???
gojo: WHY IS IT HUGE
roomie: i warned u
you laugh softly under your breath as the other car practically screeches to a stop beside you. the house sits glowing gold in the late afternoon sunlight, all warm cedar and giant windows overlooking the water below. dune grass sways softly around the edges of the deck while waves crash faintly in the distance.
home.
you hadn’t realized how badly you needed this until now. gojo launches out of the car first. “BEACH ARC!” he screams.
“inside voice,” you call automatically.
“we’re outside.”
“future inside voice.”
toji steps out next, stretching dramatically. “thank christ. my knees were touching my organs back there.”
everyone starts unloading luggage in a blur after that. bags thumping against the deck, music already blasting from someones speaker, and of course, gojo attempting to carry six things at once before immediately dropping half of them.
you’re hauling one of the grocery bags up the front steps when your roommate appears beside you wearing the smuggest expression imaginable. “so,” she says casually.
you already know. “don’t.”
“you and geto looked cozy.”
“we were in a car.”
“alone.”
“with seatbelts.”
gojo’s girlfriend appears on your other side immediately. “the sexual tension was visible through the windshield.”
you nearly trip over the doorway. “there is no sexual tension.”
both of them stare at you and you adjust your glasses defensively. “there just objectively is not.”
“you’re doing the nerd thing,” your roommate says.
“what nerd thing?”
“the glasses push.”
your hand drops instantly away from your frames. traitors, the both of them. behind you, geto lifts two suitcases from the trunk effortlessly while listening to choso say something beside him.
he glances toward the front porch, toward you, and your stomach does the stupid thing again. once inside everybody immediately scatters to explore the house.
gojo runs directly toward the back windows dramatically. “the back deck is is insane.”
“don’t break anything,” you warn.
“you say that every time.”
“because every time you almost break something.”
toji opens the fridge. “this thing is bigger than four of the fridges at the frat.”
you kick your shoes off near the entryway while everybody talks over each other around you. the house smells faintly like cedarwood and ocean air, comfortable and familiar.
comfortable.
familiar.
geto pauses beside one of the windows quietly, gaze moving across the living room and you watch his expression shift slightly. he looks good, his hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair loosened slightly from it's usual knot, sunlight catching against his skin through the windows.
you look away before your brain gets worse.
eventually everyone gathers in the living room surrounded by luggage and grocery bags while you attempt to regain control of the chaos. “okay,” you say, clapping once. “room assignments.”
immediately, “dibs,” both gojo and choso say at the same time.
their girlfriends laugh. “obviously,” gojo’s girlfriend says. "we can take the upstairs bedroom, if you don't mind? the one on the side?"
“don’t be loud,” you say, and gojo flips you off. within seconds choso and your roommate have claimed one of the downstairs bedrooms, which leaves you, geto and toji, and two remaining bedrooms.
the master, upstairs. the guest room, downstairs, which has a double bed.
you’re mentally calculating sleeping arrangements when geto speaks first.
“y/n should take the master.”
your head lifts. geto’s leaning back slightly against the kitchen island now, arms folded loosely. “it’s her house,” he says simply.
heat flickers low in your stomach at how immediate the answer was. before you can respond, toji lets out a deeply offended noise. “what,” he says flatly.
everyone turns toward him. he gestures broadly at himself and geto. “so your solution is to cram two six-foot-plus men into a queen bed?”
“you survived the car,” gojo calls from halfway down the hall.
“barely. my spine compressed.” toji points accusingly at you. “i already sacrificed circulation for this trip.”
your roommate’s eyes flick between you and geto so fast it’s almost cartoonish. “easy fix,” she says. “geto and y/n share.”
silence, and your heart drops to your ass. nobody says anything immediately because apparently every single person in this house has collectively decided to make your life harder.
you stare at your roommate. she grins back innocently. beside him, gojo's girlfriend physically bites the inside of her cheek trying not to smile.
toji shrugs instantly. “works for me.”
“of course it does,” you mutter.
your roommate looks dangerously delighted now. “i mean…”
you whip around. “okay, that's--that's enough.”
“it makes sense.”
“does it?”
“logistically?”
you narrow your eyes. she smiles sweetly. geto has gone suspiciously quiet beside the kitchen island and when you risk one glance towards him he's already looking at you completely unreadable except for the faintest pink creeping up his ears.
your pulse stutters embarrassingly hard. “i can sleep on the couch,” you say quickly.
“absolutely not,” geto says immediately. too fast. the room goes quiet again and you feel every single person notice the tension. especially when geto clears his throat softly afterward. “i mean,” he adds more evenly, “it’s your place.”
gojo looks one second away from exploding with laughter.
toji stretches lazily against the armchair. “well i’m not sharing with him.”
your roommate suddenly stands. “perfect! problem solved.”
you stare at her in horror. “you didn’t solve anything.”
“you and geto get the master.”
your brain short-circuits. you open your mouth to protest then glance toward geto again. his eyes meet yours instantly, and you both look away.
biggest coward of all - your one and only, y/n.
everyone disperses after that. gojo immediately starts trying to connect his phone to the speaker system downstairs, toji disappears toward the back deck with a beer already in hand, choso and his girlfriend vanish into their room carrying bags and giggling like a disease.
you flee upstairs before your friends can torment you any further. your heartbeat still feels weird - you hate that.
the master bedroom sits at the end of the hallway overlooking the water, all soft linen and huge windows glowing gold from the lowering sun outside. you’ve always loved this room, not that you were in it often. throughout your childhood, it was occupied by your parents.
you especially love it at sunset. usually it calms you down.
usually.
right now all you can think about is the fact that suguru geto is sharing this room with you for an entire week.
it's insane and horrible and slightly thrilling in a way you refuse to examine too closely. you drop your bag onto the bed with a sigh before digging through your suitcase for something more comfortable. the drive left you sticky and overheated so you tug your shirt over your head absentmindedly, tossing it onto the bed before reaching behind yourself to unclasp your bra.
finally. freedom.
you’re halfway through pulling on a loose tank top when the bedroom door suddenly opens. you turn automatically.
geto walks in mid-sentence. “i was just gonna leave my ba—”
he stops completely. so do you.
silence detonates through the room because your bra is currently halfway off your arms and your tits are fully out.
oh my god. you yelp immediately, clutching the tank top against your chest. geto looks genuinely horrified. not in a bad way but shocked, like his brain physically short-circuited. his eyes flick upward instantly but it’s too late because the image is already there now, permanently burned into his consciousness forever.
“fuck,” he blurts immediately. “shit. fuck, sorry. jesus christ.”
you make another strangled noise while trying to cover yourself and pull the shirt on at the same time. geto turns around so fast he nearly walks into the doorframe. “i’m sorry,” he says again, voice suddenly rougher than usual. “i thought you were downstairs.”
“it’s okay,” you squeak.
it is not okay. your face feels approximately one million degrees.
geto grabs the doorknob blindly. “i’m gonna— yeah. sorry.” then he practically slams the door shut behind him.
you stand frozen in the middle of the bedroom clutching your shirt to your chest while your nervous system completely implodes.
oh my god.
OH MY GOD.
geto descends the stairs with a flushed face and rigid expression - the kind of forced composure that immediatley attracts attention in a house full of idiots.
gojo looks up from the couch instantly. “…the hell happened to you?”
geto keeps walking toward the kitchen. “nothing.”
“you look like you saw a ghost.”
“something like that,” geto mutters.
friday - 7 pm
by early evening, the house finally settles into something softer. the unpacking chaos dies down, most of your group is watching the ocean from the back porch. you’re cleaning up dinner dishes with choso, who keeps (politely) asking why you’ve got a weird look on your face.
it’s been four hours since that disaster upstairs. the awkwardness still hangs between you and geto, who can’t look you in the eye.
you change into one of your bikinis eventually, tugging an oversized button-up over it before heading downstairs with your glasses perched back on your nose. the second you appear, gojo grins. “beach time.”
“beach time,” you confirm with a small smile.
outside, the air smells like salt and warm cedar as everybody trails down the private wooden path toward the shoreline. the beach stretches mostly empty around you, pale sand glowing gold beneath the lowering sun while waves roll lazily onto shore. your roommate immediately grabs your hand and drags you toward the water. gojo sprints in after you both screaming for no reason. toji lights a cigarette. gojo’s girlfriend seems reluctant to put her feet in the water but she explodes into giggles when the white-haired man hauls her over his shoulders.
geto hangs back slightly. he still can’t think normally, not after upstairs. not after accidentally walking into the bedroom and seeing you half-dressed with your tits out looking shocked and all cute and soft beneath afternoon light.
jesus christ.
he’s trying very hard to be normal about it but the image keeps replaying against his will. the gentle curve of your chest and your startled expression and the way you scrambled to cover yourself.
he feels insane.
“you good?”
geto blinks. choso stands beside him now holding a cooler in one hand.
“fine,” geto says immediately.
choso hums, not believing him at all. ahead of them, you’re standing ankle-deep in the water now while your roommate splashes at gojo nearby. the ocean catches sunset light in shifting ribbons of gold and blue around your legs and fuck, geto’s pulse jumps instantly.
your oversized shirt hangs open slightly over your swimsuit whenever the wind catches it. your hair glows warm at the edges beneath the fading sun while you laugh at something gojo yells from farther down the shoreline.
pretty doesn’t even feel like the right word anymore.
it’s worse than that now. every time geto looks at you lately, something low in his chest tightens painfully. beside him, choso watches quietly for about three seconds. “you should probably stop staring.”
geto tears his eyes away immediately. “i wasn’t.”
“mhm.”
annoying.
they walk farther down the beach together while the others spread out ahead. waves crash softly nearby, the wind cool against their skin. “you know,” choso says after a minute, “she likes you too.”
geto nearly chokes. “…what?”
choso shrugs lightly. “i’m just saying.”
“you shouldn’t say anything.”
“okay.”
barely a pause before geto blurts, “does she actually?”
choso laughs quietly while geto rubs a hand over his jaw with a sigh.
this whole situation feels increasingly impossible to manage. before this trip, there was distance. space and campus distractions. now there’s shared car rides and a shared room and seeing you every five minutes. and apparently accidental nudity.
and of course there’s the fact that geto genuinely likes being around you. he likes talking to you. likes the way your brain works. the way you explain things when you’re excited. the little irritated face you make whenever gojo says something stupid.
it’s becoming a real problem.
“you’ve spent six months pretending you weren’t obsessed with her,” choso observes quietly.
geto glares at him. “i’m not obsessed.”
choso looks unconvinced. fair enough.
the sound of you laughing (at something toji or gojo did, likely) hits geto square in the chest. there’s something different about you here already. you’re lighter, less tense than you are on campus. he watches you push your glasses back up your nose while smiling toward the ocean, sunset washing warm gold across your skin.
beautiful.
the thought arrives with startling clarity this time, like he could spend an entire lifetime memorizing moments exactly like this. you glance back toward him suddenly and your eyes meet across the beach.
there it is again, that pull.
that awful suspended feeling like the rest of the world drops slightly out of focus whenever you look at each other too long.
friday - 9 pm
it's properly evening when you all head back to the beach house. the sky's a pretty shade of dark blue, stars shining little dots above your head. you all file into the house and you say something about not trailing any sand in, looking very pointedly at gojo.
salt clings faintly to your skin, your hair's a mess from the wind, and your brain still hasn't recovered from the way geto looked at you on the beach. you slip into the kitchen first to grab water, hoping for approximately thirty seconds alone to regain your sanity.
so, naturally, geto walks in immediately after you. of course he does.
you busy yourself with the fridge while he moves toward the sink beside you, sleeves pushed up again as he washes sand from his hands.
silence stretches, and it's not uncomfortable, exactly. it's worse - aware. you can feel him there without even looking. the heat of him beside you, the sound of water running over his hands. your pulse does something deeply irritating when his shoulder brushes yours accidentally reaching for a dish towel.
“sorry,” he murmurs.
“you keep saying that this trip.” you regret the words as soon as they come out. why would you bring up that incident?
his mouth twitches slightly.
before either of you can spiral further or say anything else gojo’s voice erupts from the living room.
“movie night?!”
you close your eyes briefly. saved by the idiot.
everybody migrates downstairs afterwards where the basement living room is. it's cozy and there's a huge projector setup against one wall, and an entire cabinet full of old dvds your parents collected over the years.
gojo kneels in front of it like he’s discovering sacred texts. “this is so fucking cool.”
“don’t touch them with your greasy hands,” you warn.
“snob.”
he ends up carefully plucking the first indiana jones movie from one of the shelves and hands it to you. "good pick? i've never seen it."
"great pick," you approve. you crouch down to the dvd player, fiddling with the wires to connect it properly to the projector. behind you, everyone's already claimed spots on the couches.
you don't think much of it until you finally turn around and freeze. one end of the sectional is occupied by toji's giant limbs. the rest has a very comfortable looking choso-and-roommate combo who are already curled into each other. the beanbag has gojo and his girlfriend squished onto it.
the only open spot left is beside geto on the loveseat.
your roommate suddenly becomes very interested in not making eye contact and gojo's girlfriend looks seconds away from laughing. you narrow your eyes at both of them before trudging toward the loveseat.
you sit as far from geto as physically possible, which on the loveseat is not very far. there's maybe a foot of space between you both ,close enough to feel hyperaware of each other's presence.
as the movie starts gojo's already stealing popcorn from his girlfriend and your roommate is practically asleep against choso's chest within minutes. geto's still infuriatingly still beside you, one arm draped along the back of the couch. not touching you, just there, and your heartbeat won't calm down.
you manage to balance this thin line of whatever-this-is between you and geto for half the movie, hardly paying attention to the plot, though you've seen the flick a dozen times. you keep gettind distracted by his arm (it's right there) and how if you inched just a liiiitle bit over, you'd basically be pressed against geto.
your bubble's interrupted by gojo bolting up from the beanbag, shouting about about a plot twist he 'totally saw coming,' and the volume of his screaming is so aggressive you jolt slightly.
your thigh brushes geto's. the rush that flows through you is electric and you both go still instantly. the contact lingers half a second too long before you shift subtly back except now geto's arm behind you lowers slightly. closer. his fingers brush your shoulder lightly and your pulse spikes so hard it hurts.
you stare very intensely at the movie screen pretending your entire nervous system isn’t imploding, then his thumb moves - small absentminded circles against your shoulder through the thin fabric of your shirt.
oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god -
you stop breathing for a second and beside you, geto’s voice drops low enough only you can hear. “…this okay?”
your throat feels weirdly tight. you nod once, his arm sliding lower around you slowly, careful enough to give you time to pull away if you want.
you don’t.
so instead he gently pulls you against his side, warm and solid, your brain short-circuiting instantly. somehow curling against him feels natural already. your head settles near his shoulder while his arm stays firm around your waist now, thumb still tracing slow patterns against your side.
the movie disappears completely and all you can think about is him. his cologne and the warmth radiating through his hoodie and the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek.
your heart feels seconds away from exploding.
geto feels equally doomed. having you tucked against him like this is significantly worse than he imagined. you fit there too easily. soft against his side and warm beneath his arm. he can smell coconut sunscreen faintly lingering on your skin from the beach and it’s actively destroying his ability to think. he's also trying very hard not to tighten his grip every time you shift closer unconsciously.
from across the room, toji announces, with zero social awareness, “i’m cold.”
toji’s voice cuts through the moment like a gunshot. you pull away instantly and geto’s arm drops from around you immediately like he touched fire.
“i can get blankets,” you say quickly, already standing.
“i’ll help,” geto says, glancing at you.
“you don’t have to—”
“it’s fine.”
you swallow thickly and nod, walking up the stairs, legs feeling like jello, geto right behind you.
from the couch, choso's girlfriend grabs a pillow and hurls it directly at toji's head. “what the fuck is wrong with you?”
toji catches it midair, deeply offended. “what?”
“they were having a moment.”
“how was i supposed to know that?”
“because everyone with functioning eyes knew that.”
gojo starts cackling.
when you make it upstairs, the silence between you and geto feels heavy and sharp and you move the hallway quickly trying to regain control of your heartbeat while grabbing blankets from the linen closet.
geto stands too cloise behind you that when you turn accidentally, you nearly walk straight into his chest.
your breath catches. his does too.
for one suspended second neither of you moves.
the hallway feels narrow suddenly and you're focused on warm, dim light spilling softly across his face and his dark eyes fixed on yours. your pulse pounds violently as geto's face flicks briefly to your mouth, then back up.
you think he’s going to kiss you.
you really think he’s going to kiss you.
instead, he quietly says, “…you don’t have to feel weird about downstairs.”
the words feel strange and your stomach drops slightly. “…weird?”
his expression shifts instantly like he realizes too late how that sounded. “no, i just meant—”
“right,” you say quickly.
humiliation flashes hot beneath your skin. he thinks you misread things, or worse, that he did. you step back first, push your glasses up too quickly. “no yeah. obviously.”
geto looks frustrated suddenly. “that’s not what i—”
“it’s okay,” you interrupt softly. “really.”
the tension curdles painfully into awkwardness as you grab as many blankets as possible before he can say anything else, then practically flee downstairs.
everyone looks up when you return. you toss blankets at people mechanically before settling onto the far end of the loveseat, as far away as you can from geto.
your roommate notices immediately. so does choso. so does gojo. gojo's girlfriend would've, too, if she weren't out cold asleep.
geto comes downstairs a second later quieter than before and he hesitates briefly looking toward you, then sits separately too.
on the floor.
distance stretches cold and strange across the room now. your chest aches and you tightly pull a blanket around yourself, staring at the movie screen without really seeing it.
geto watches the side of your face in silence from his spot on the floor and from that point on the rest of the movie feels wrong. nobody says anything outright but everybody notices, because thirty minutes ago you'd been curled into geto's side looking soft and shy while he stared at you like you painted those stars in the sky over the ocean.
now you're curled up like a hermit and geto's face seems almost painful as he stares at his feet.
gojo's eyes flick between the two of you every few seconds with all the subtlety of a car accident. his girlfriend, now awake, elbows him every time
choso notices too, though he’s more discreet about it. he just keeps glancing toward geto occasionally like he’s trying to figure out which one of you panicked first.
(toji remains blissfully clueless.)
you stay tucked beneath your blanket staring blankly at the projector screen while the movie plays out in blurry colors you barely register.
geto looks equally miserable. worse, actually, because now that he's replaying the conversation upstairs in his head, he realizes exactly how badly he phrased it. 'you don't have to feel weird about downstairs'. god. he sounded like he regretted it, like he was trying to backtrack, which is the opposite of what he meant.
he’d only wanted to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable. that you didn't feel pressured and that he hadn't crossed a line. instead he'd watched your face fall in real time. idiot. he's an idiot.
when the credits finally roll, everybody starts talking at once again. gojo arguing about the ending and toji asking if there's leftover chips and your roommate whispering something to choso while glancing at you.
you quietly push the blanket aside and stand. “i’m gonna go to bed,” you mumble. you’re not even sure anyone hears, but geto does. his head lifts immediately but you don't look at him, disappearing upstairs before anyone can stop you.
you trudge to your bedroom, straight to the en suite. the shower helps a little. the warm water and the silence as you scrub salt from your skin and try very hard not to think about how close geto had been in the hallway upstairs. or how badly you wanted him to kiss you.
humiliating.
by the time you finish changing into your university sweatshirt and tiny sleep shorts, exhaustion finally starts creeping in around the edges. the bedroom is dark when you return except for moonlight spilling silver across the floor through the giant windows.
geto isn’t there yet. your stomach twists at the thought but you climb into your side of the bed anyway, pulling the blankets up to your chin while ocean waves crash softly somewhere outside.
you tell yourself not to care, then eventually fall asleep anyway.
when you wake up again, the room is still dark. for one disoriented second you don’t know why your chest feels strange then you glance toward the other side of the bed.
empty. empty?
your brows knit together immediately. the digital clock beside the bed reads 4:07 am. you push yourself upright slowly. “…geto?”
nothing, and the bathroom’s empty too. confused now, you slip quietly out of bed and head downstairs.
the house is silent, dark except for one of the kitchen lights left on.
and there he is. geto's asleep on the downstairs couch, or at least attempting to be. one arm thrown over his eyes, long legs awkwardly cramped against the cushions because the couch is way too short for him, a blanket half falling onto the floor.
your chest tightens. he thought you didn't want him upstairs and guilt floods through you instantly. you carefully walk closer. “geto,” you whisper.
he wakes almost immediately. years of frat-house living apparently killed deep sleep permanently. his arm drops from his face slowly when he realizes it’s you standing there. his hair’s messy, voice rough with sleep. “…hey.”
you hesitate, suddenly nervous again. “why are you down here?”
his eyes flick away briefly. “didn’t wanna make things uncomfortable.”
your heart sinks. “you weren’t,” you say quickly. “i just thought…” you trail off awkwardly.
geto pushes himself upright slowly, watching you carefully in the dark. “thought what?”
you fiddle with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “that maybe you regretted it. when...we were on the couch.”
his expression changes instantly, softens to something almost confused. “what?”
“upstairs,” you mumble. “when you said i didn’t have to feel weird.”
geto exhales quietly through his nose then drops his head back against the couch cushions. “that is not what i meant.”
heat creeps into your face again. “oh.”
he looks up at you then, eyes all sleepy and honest in the dim blue light. “i was trying to make sure you were okay,” he says quietly. “because i wanted to kiss you.”
your breath catches hard. silence fills the room save for the hum of the fridge, ocean waves somewhere outside and your heartbeat going completely feral.
geto's gaze stays fixed on yours. “and i wasn’t sure if you wanted that too.”
you stare at him for one suspended second. “i thought you were going to.”
his mouth parts slightly, something warm flashing through his expression. “yeah,” he says softly. “i was.”
your pulse feels violent now and you shift your weight nervously. “you should come upstairs.”
geto studies your face carefully for another second like he’s making absolutely sure, then stands. the couch blanket slips forgotten onto the floor while you both just stand there in the dark living room breathing the same air.
when geto’s hand brushes lightly against yours heading toward the stairs, neither of you pulls away. walking beside him somehow feels more intimate than the almost-kiss downstairs. your hand brushes his once on the staircase and suddenly your pulse is trying to escape your body.
neither of you talks much once you reach the bedroom either. it’s painfully awkward now in that fragile post-confession way. you hover near your side of the bed, and geto stands near the dresser rubbing the back of his neck.“…sorry again,” he says quietly.
“for what?”
“all of this being weird.”
you blink at him then laugh softly despite yourself. “you saying that is making it weirder.”
his mouth twitches. “right.”
when you both scramble into bed you face opposite directions, approximately three feet apart. you can physically feel the tension across the mattress. as you stare at the ceiling you're trying very hard not to think about the fact that geto is right there.
same bed, same room, close enough that you can hear his breathing if you focus.
saturday - 10 am
you stir faintly as the sun wakes you up, bright enough to peek through the edges of the blinds. you stir faintly, something heavy resting around your waist. your brows pinch together sleepily.
wait.
you blink your eyes open slowly and realize with immediate horror that sometime during the night, both of you migrated completely across the bed. you’re practically tangled together now, your head tucked against geto’s chest, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist beneath the blankets, one of your legs halfway thrown over his.
before you can even process it fully, geto shifts too, his arm tightening instinctively for half a second before he wakes up enough to realize.
you both freeze then very slowly, geto looks down at you. his hair is completely loose from sleeping now, dark strands falling around his face messily and eyes still heavy with sleep.
his voice comes out rough and groggy when he finally speaks. “...morning.”
his voice sounds unfair, deep and sleepy and warm against the quiet room. you want to choke. instead you stare at him for one embarrassingly long second before scrambling backward so fast you nearly fall off the bed. “good morning!”
too loud. way too loud.
geto pushes himself upright slowly, clearly trying not to laugh.
you’re suddenly acutely aware now of your oversized university sweatshirt riding up slightly from sleep and the tiny shorts you forgot you were wearing. you can feel oil slicking to your skin and you probably look horrible, meanwhile geto looks basically offensively attractive for a man who literally just woke up. dark pools of hair fall over his shoulders, features softened
your nervous system cannot survive this week. “i’m gonna change,” you announce suddenly.
geto blinks once. “…okay.”
you point at him very seriously while backing toward the bathroom. “do not come in there.”
that finally gets a real laugh out of him, low and sleepy. “wasn’t planning on it.”
“good.” you disappear into the bathroom before your dignity can deteriorate further and once inside you stare at your reflection while trying to regain basic human functionality.
you slept wrapped around suguru geto. comfortably.
eventually you change into denim shorts and a fitted tank top before putting your hair up and emerging from the bathroom again.
the bedroom’s empty and for a confusing second you think maybe geto left downstairs already, before movement catches your eye through the balcony doors.
geto’s outside stretching in the early morning sunlight. shirtless. warm golden light spills cross his skin while he stretches one arm over his head lazily, back muscles shifting beneath the sunlight. his sweatpants hang low enough that the sharp v-lines disappearing beneath the waistband are very visible.
extremely visible.
you feel warm all over immediately because sure, you knew geto was attractive. obviously. but this feels actively engineered in a lab to ruin your life specifically.
outside, he rolls his shoulders once before turning slightly and immediately catches you staring. your soul leaves your body as geto pauses then very slowly raises a brow. “…morning again.”
heat floods your face so fast it’s almost violent. you look away instantly.
“you could warn people.”
“about what?”
you gesture vaguely toward him without looking directly.
“that.”
his laugh drifts softly through the open balcony door and when you glance at him again you see how prettily the sun catches against the winding tattoos along his arms.
geto watches your expression carefully and smirks slightly.
you swear you'll die before noon.
the house is (unfortunately) wide awake as you and geto walk downstairs. gojo’s voice echoes through the kitchen before you even hit the last stair. “WHY IS IT SMOKING?”
you immediately close your eyes. “what did you do,” you say, voice dangerously low.
“nothing!”
you walk into the kitchen to find everyone gathered around the coffee machine like it’s a bomb squad situation. steam hisses violently from the side of it and gojo stands there holding the glass pot. “i pressed brew,” he defends.
“with no water in it,” his girlfriend says.
toji looks half asleep at the island. “natural selection should’ve taken him years ago.”
your roommate's eyes narrow immediately as she sees you and geto walk in. her gaze drifts to the living room, specifically the blanket crumpled on the couch and the pillow on the floor.
you grab a mug to avoid eye contact with her, geto moving toward the counter beside you like this is a completely normal morning.
gojo squints suspiciously. “…you two look weird.”
“you always look weird,” you mutter into your juice.
“true but irrelevant.”
“the coffee machine’s dead by the way,” toji interrupts.
“i figured as much,” you sigh, examining the machine with a frown.
“he killed it,” gojo's girlfriend says.
“it was weak,” gojo argues.
“it was a twelve hundred dollar espresso machine,” you say, rubbing a hand over your eyes. "my parents are so going to kill me."
gojo freezes. “it was how much?”
you groan softly, dropping your forehead against the counter. “i’m going back to bed.”
beside you, geto laughs under his breath, low enough only you heard it. your stomach flips and you glance at him accidentally and immediately regret it because his hair's tied loosely back and he's in a fitted black t-shirt that does nothing helpful for your concentration.
plus you know what's under it. worse - you know what it looks like first thing in the morning sunlight.
your brain needs to be chemically sterilized.
everyone slowly migrates toward breakfast eventually while arguing over plans for the day. gojo offers to toast bagels (provided he doesn't break the toaster, too) and your roommate keeps kicking your ankle beneath the island every time you look at geto too long.
“stop that,” you hiss quietly.
“make me.”
you’re still groggy as hell from waking up at four in the morning and emotionally spiraling before sunrise so eventually everyone starts looking at you expectantly when discussion turns toward plans.
“what’s the weather?” choso asks.
you glance out the giant kitchen windows toward the water. clear skies, barely any wind. perfect.
“it’s gonna be a good beach day,” you say, wrapping your hands around your mug (yes, still full of juice. you'd kill for coffee right now). “we can stay down there most of the afternoon.”
gojo pumps a fist. “beach arc continues.”
“then maybe head into town this evening,” you continue. “there’s a boardwalk and some restaurants by the marina.”
“shopping?” your roommate perks up instantly.
“you don’t need more clothes.”
“counterpoint, yes i do.”
“we can do dinner there,” you say. “then come back for the sunset.”
everyone nods along pretty quickly after that but geto’s not really paying attention anymore, because while you’re talking, sleepy and slightly disheveled in your little tank top with your glasses sliding down your nose, sunlight catches against your skin through the kitchen windows.
all he can think about is waking up with you curled against his chest.
you look over toward him mid-sentence.“does that sound okay?”
geto realizes a full second too late that everyone’s waiting for his answer. “…yeah,” he says quietly, eyes still on you. “sounds perfect.”
after breakfast, the second you head upstairs, your roommate and gojo’s girlfriend follow immediately with excited little grins. you barely make it into the bedroom before your roommate shuts the door behind her dramatically.
“spill.”
you blink. “about what.”
both of them stare at you. “y/n,” gojo’s girlfriend says flatly, “there was visible yearning at breakfast.”
“there was not.”
you move toward your suitcase quickly before they can corner you properly. “nothing happened.”
“liar,” your roommate says instantly.
“nothing serious happened.” you push your glasses back up your nose. you ignore their little comments and start sorting through your bikinis instead. “we’re focusing on beachwear now.”
“avoidance,” your roommate whispers solemnly.
“coping mechanism,” gojo’s girlfriend agrees.
you throw a swimsuit at both of them and eventually the three of you end up sitting cross-legged around the open suitcase debating bikini options. “this one’s cute,” your roommate says, holding up a blue floral set.
“i dunno why i packed that one.”
“this one?”
“too bright.”
gojo’s girlfriend suddenly digs deeper into the suitcase before pausing. “…wait.” she lifts a black triangle bikini from the pile. sleek black fabric and a tiny gold charp dangling between the cups
you laugh nervously. it's smaller than what you typically wear - you prefer more full-coverage, something that doesn't let the plush of your stomach and thighs fully exposed. the top'll push up your tits way more than anything you normally wear.
both girls stare at it reverently like archaeologists uncovering forbidden treasure. “THIS one,” your roommate breathes.
“absolutely this one,” gojo's girlfriend agrees.
you snatch at it immediately. “that’s too...much. i don't -”
“y/n, you're going to look amazing in it, no matter what comments you have to say about yourself or your body,” your roommate says. “you're hot. it's hot. you're going to look good.”
“i’m literally not wearing dental floss to the beach.”
“y/n.”
“what.”
“put it on.”
five minutes later you emerge from the bathroom already regretting every life decision that led here. the bikini really is tiny.
the black fabric contrasts sharply against your skin while the gold charm rests perfectly between your chest. the top pushes everything up unfairly well and the bottoms sit low against your hips with thin strings at the sides.
you instinctively cross your arms slightly. your roommate’s jaw physically drops and gojo’s girlfriend just stares.
“…holy shit,” she says softly.
“you HAVE to wear that.”
“i look insane,” you say, glancing at your feet. "bad insane."
“you look hot.”
heat crawls across your face instantly, and you glance toward the mirror again. okay. maybe it does look good. “it’s more revealing than what i usually wear,” you mumble.
“and you rock it.”
eventually they encourage you to keeping it on and you throw on a loose white cover dress afterward at least, something soft and flowy enough to hide most of the bikini beneath it.
then you start filling your beach bag. book, sunscreen, waterbottle, lip balm, portable charger.
your roommate watches with deep affection. “you pack for the beach like a divorced father.”
“preparation prevents suffering,” you say wisely, and gojo's girlfriend laughs while you shove sunglasses into your hair.
the three of you head downstairs together where the guys are still getting ready. gojo's already shirtless and toji's hoarding chips and choso nearly walks directly into a wall when his girlfriend appears in her bikini.
geto looks up from the kitchen counter when you enter. you feel his gaze drift down your face, down the cover dress you're wearing, and your pulse jumps instantly.
gojo ruins the moment by throwing sunglasses at him. “beach.”
everyone starts heading outside after that. the walk toward the shoreline is warm and breezy, sunlight sifting through dune grass while everybody talks over each other around you. you’re halfway down the road when somebody calls your name suddenly.
you turn instantly, recognizing the voice with a smile. “aaron?”
geto watches as a guy about your age jogs over from the neighboring property, grinning broadly. he's tall, sun-bleached hair, and apparently he knows you very well because he immediately pulls you into a quick hug.
“holy shit,” he laughs. “when’d you get here?”
“yesterday! i didn’t know your family was coming down this week.”
“mom wanted the boat out, even though it's kinda early.”
you smile easily at him - you did practically grow up together, summer after summer.
behind you, your friends have gone suspiciously quiet.
“oh, these are my friends,” you say, gesturing to your group. aaron shakes everyone’s hands easily while you chatter beside him naturally, smiling more openly than you usually do around new people.
geto watches the entire thing in silence and immediately dislikes this guy. he knows it's irrational but you look happy talking to him. not nervous or flustered, just easy and warm and familiar. aaron says something that makes you laugh and geto's jaw tightens.
logically, this means nothing. he knows that, but still. he watches aaron’s hand brush briefly against your arm while talking and suddenly feels the deeply primal urge to throw him into the ocean.
gojo notices instantly, of course, despite being a bumbling oaf most of the time. his eyes slowly widen behind his sunglasses. “he’s jealous,” he whispers as he leans towards choso.
“obviously,” choso whispers back.
the second aaron finally heads back toward his family’s place, the group starts moving again. something's shifted now, though. you notice it almost immediately walking beside geto down the sandy path toward the beach.
he’s quieter. thinking.
gojo notices too, his grin getting increasingly more dangerous every few seconds. eventually he speeds up to walk backward in front of you both. “so,” he says brightly. “beach boyfriend.”
“don’t start,” you sigh.
“he looked rich.”
“his parents are both lawyers and they own three beach houses here.”
“shit, well -”
gojo’s girlfriend drags him away by the arm before he can get worse. bless her.
for a minute it’s just you and geto walking side by side while the others move ahead laughing about something. ocean wind catches softly at your cover dress, your sunglasses rest pushed into your hair.
geto finally speaks. “…you two close?”
you glance over. his expression’s careful, casual sounding. “kinda,” you say. “i only really see him in summers though. it's been a while.”
geto hums once. silence stretches another few steps then before he can stop himself, he asks, “you ever date?”
your brows lift slightly.
geto stutters, “i just mean—”
“no, i know what you mean.” you laugh softly under your breath a little awkwardly now. “not seriously. we messed around a little as teenagers.”
geto goes still. you say it so casually, like it means nothing, and his brain instantly starts supplying images he absolutely does not want. you younger, laughing with that guy at bonfires, swimming together at night.
that guy touching you.
“oh,” he says evenly.
you glance at him sideways. “…you okay?”
“fine.”
liar. he’s absurdly jealous which is insane because he knows he has zero claim over you whatsoever. (and yet he thinks about last night and how you almost kissed and that soft look in your eyes and he feels waves of jealousy wash over him again.)
the thought of anyone else having touched you makes something dark and unpleasant twist low in his stomach. the walk to the beach is silent and the shoreline opens wide before all of you again.
everyone starts setting up camp and the warm sand burns pleasently beneath your feet. umbrellas, chairs, coolers, towels are all placed in motion
toji tries to ram an umbrella into the sand with zero clue what he's doing and you laugh softly, setting your beach bag down near one of the chairs.
geto watches you from a few feet away while pretending to unfold a towel as you reach for the ties of your cover dress.
his brain short-circuits instantly, watching the thin fabric slip from your shoulders. jesus christ, that bikini is devastating.
sleek little triangle top, gold charm catching sunlight perfectly between your chest, tiny straps against your skin. the bottoms sit low on your hips with those little thin side ties and geto physically has to look away for a second because blood rushes south immediately.
fast.
he’s actually in hell because now not only does he remember accidentally seeing your chest upstairs yesterday, but he also has visual confirmation that your body is genuinely engineered to ruin his life specifically.
nearby, your roommate whistles. “see?” she says smugly. “told you.”
heat creeps across your neck while you shove your sunglasses on quickly. “stop making announcements.”
toji glances from you to geto and laughs under his breath. “…dude.”
geto doesn’t answer. he's still staring until toji smacks his shoulder hard enough to jolt him back to reality. “get in the ocean.”
geto blinks. “…what?”
“cold water.”
realization hits instantly and his ears turn red immediately.
“shut the fuck up,” geto mutters. gojo walks by and smirks, shouting no way at the top of his lungs with absolute glee.
you look between all of them confused. “what’s happening?”
“nothing,” geto says too quickly.
toji’s grin turns downright evil. “he just really likes the scenery.”
your face burns alive instantly.
geto looks seconds away from committing homicide. he starts trudging towards the ocean, following everyone who's running towards the water.
choso's girlfriend stops him, pausing with the slyest smile you've ever seen in your life. “y/n needs someone to put sunscreen on her.”
geto stares at her blankly. “…okay?”
your roommate glares at him pointedly. “you dumbass.”
when realization hits, geto goes still, cause you’re standing there in that tiny black bikini looking suddenly very interested in literally anything except him, and now he’s imagining touching sunscreen onto your skin for an extended period of time while already painfully hard.
cool.
great.
awesome.
gojo’s girlfriend physically drags your roommate toward the lake before either of you can escape.
“have fun!” she calls sweetly.
silence settles immediately afterward except for distant waves and screaming from the water where gojo’s already drowning dramatically. you stand awkwardly beside the chairs clutching the sunscreen bottle and geto pushes a few loose strands of hair back from his face slowly before reaching for it.
his fingers brush yours. your pulse jumps. (his does too.)
“…so,” he says.
“mhm.”
“…where do you want it?”
you choke, brain interpresting that in the worst way possible.
geto's eyes widen slightly. “i didn’t mean it like that.” his ears are turning red again.
“right,” you mumble weakly. god, the tension between you lately feels actively lethal.
geto clears his throat once. “i just meant sunscreen.”
“i know.”
“okay.”
you very quietly mumble, “…just put it everywhere.” you realize how that sounds approximately one second too late.
geto shuts his eyes briefly like he’s asking the universe for strength then gestures toward the towel laid out beneath one of the umbrellas.
“you can, erm, lay down. or stand. dunno.”
you nod quickly, and the sand's warm beneath the towel as you settle carefully onto your stomach. geto kneels beside you, close that you can hear the bottle of sunscreen click open. your heartbeat pounds harder instantly.
“tell me if i’m using too much,” he says quietly.
“okay.”
cool sunscreen hits your shoulders first, then his hands. geto’s fingers spread the lotion slowly across your skin, warm palms gliding carefully along your shoulders and upper back.
he’s trying very hard to stay normal about this but your skin’s warm from the sun and soft beneath his hands and when you shiver slightly when his thumbs press near the base of your neck it certainly doesn’t help his…situation.
geto swallows hard. “…cold?”
“no.” your voice comes out quieter than usual.
you hear him exhale softly through his nose and his hands move lower slowly, fingers spreading sunscreen across the middle of your back now, dragging lower and lower inch by inch. it feels intimate, the kind of slow touch that settles beneath your skin.
you wonder, briefly, what your roommate, or gojo’s girlfriend, or choso, or any of them really, think of the sight (if they’re looking) geto leaning over you beneath the umbrella with his hair falling loose around his face slightly while his hands move slowly across your skin like he’s memorizing it. you lying there visibly tense every time he touches you.
“you missed a spot,” you mumble weakly, pointing toward your side mostly just to say something.
mistake. big huge mistake because you throb as geto’s hand slides carefully along your waist, thumb brushing just beneath the curve of your ribs. as your breath catches so does his and his hand lingers one dangerous second too long against your side before pulling away.
“…done,” he says roughly.
you sit up slowly, face to face with him at extremely close range. his hair’s falling into his eyes slightly from the wine, jaw tight, expression unreadable except for the very obvious tension simmering beneath it.
the moment snaps apart before either of you can do something catastrophically stupid. “y/n!” gojo’s voice echoes from the water.
you jerk backward slightly like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t and geto clears his throat immediately and pushes to his feet a little too fast. “…i’m gonna get in the lake.”
“okay,” you say too quickly.
he nods once before practically escaping into the water, leaving you sitting there afterward feeling completely disoriented. your skin still tingles everywhere he touched so to attempt to distract yourself you grab your book from your beach bag.
it doesn’t work. you read the same sentence six times in a row without processing a single word because all you can think about is the feeling of geto’s hands slowly sliding over your waist.
you’re hopeless.
your roommate and gojo’s girlfriend eventually wander back up from the shoreline dripping water everywhere and both immediately clock your expression.
“wow y/n,” your roommate says sweetly.
“don’t.”
“your sunscreen is blended sooo thoroughly.”
gojo’s girlfriend nods solemnly. “very even application.”
you close your book dramatically over your face. “i hate both of you.”
“he looked one touch away from cardiac arrest.”
“i’m serious,” you say, voice muffled from beneath the pages.
“and you looked like you were gonna melt into the towel,” your roommate adds wisely. you groan into the book.
out in the lake, geto’s standing waist-deep in freezing water, mind still scrambled, because shit, he can still feel the shape of your waist beneath his hands. he can still remember the tiny sound you made when he touched your side.
he thinks you might have noticed his situation downstairs. the water helps a little, at least, and beside him, gojo suddenly appears floating on his back. “you know,” he says conversationally, “you were sporting a fucking hard-on.”
geto nearly drowns him. “what the fuck is wrong with you.”
“you could see it from across the beach.”
“why were you looking, you piece of shit.”
“because you looked stupid.”
toji barks out a laugh nearby. “i’ve never seen you this bad over anybody.”
geto drags both hands through his wet hair with visible frustration. he knows they're right. this is bad. worse than bad. you're going to be upstairs sharing a bed every night walking around in tiny little outfits and looking at him with those shy nervous eyes whenever he gets too close.
from your spot in your chair on the beach you glance to the shoreline again over the edge of your book. you make the mistake of seeing geto standing waist-deep in the water with his wet hair pushed back.
by late afternoon, you're all making your way to the marina, everyone sun-kissed and buzzed off coolers. there's cute little boutiques with sun-faded signs, ice cream stands, tourists wandering around with shopping bags, boats bobbing against the docks while seagulls scream overhead.
it should be relaxing but instead, everyone’s acting weird. well, not everyone - gojo is still normal, unfortunately, which means he’s being loud as shit and trying on ugly sunglasses in every store while his girlfriend tells him he looks like a divorced dad. toji's carrying everyone's bags very bedgrudgingly and choso’s girlfriend keeps linking arms with him and dragging him into little souvenir stores.
meanwhile you and geto keep ending up next to each other by complete accident, which is to say, absolutely on purpose by everyone else. you’re walking along the docks eating gelato at one point when your roommate suddenly grabs your arm. “come into this store with me.” before you can respond, she’s already yanking you inside.
you blink, looking back where geto’s left standing outside with gojo and toji before you get tugged into a store.
gojo smirks immediately. “you gonna keep staring at the door like that?”
geto doesn’t even look at him. “shut up.”
“bro.”
“satoru.”
“you’ve had the expression of a war widow since sunscreen.”
by dinner, if possible, things have gotten even weirder. you all end up at this marina-side restaurant right on the water, string lights overhead and music drifting faintly from somewhere nearby.
the seating arrangement was personally made to ensure you don't survive the meal, obviously, what with gojo and his girlfriend together, choso and his girlfriend together, toji sitting like he’d rather die, and you and geto next to each other. close enough that your knees almost brush beneath the table.
drinks come, everyone's talking about the beach tomorrow and whether they should rent paddleboards. "we have the budget, but everyone has to pitch in," you say, which makes toji groan.
gojo says, "i saw that you can get a boat tour? we could go fishing or something."
you're all talking animatedly (save for geto, who's oddly quiet and keeps looking at you from the corner of his eye) then the waiter comes over. he's probably around your guys' age, eyes skimming over gojo's girlfriend tucked under gojo's arm, choso's girlfriend pressed against choso's shoulder, then you.
sitting alone, or rather alone-adjacent. “and what can i get for you?” the waiter asks you with a smile that lingers a little too long.
you look up awkwardly. “um…”
“good choice on the drink,” he says after glancing at your glass. “not everybody appreciates taste.”
your roommate nearly chokes on her water and you stare at the waiter awkwardly. “thanks?”
the waiter grins. “you guys visiting?”
you can physically feel everyone at the table stop listening to their own conversations. geto’s gone silent beside you, more silent then earlier. “yeah,” you say after a beat.
“nice,” the waiter says, leaning slightly against the table. “hope someone’s shown you the good spots around town.”
you laugh weakly because what the fuck do you even say to that. “uh…”
“hey, if you need someone to show you around, i get off at ten.”
“i think i'll get the chicken parm?” you say, laughing nervously. “please.”
“or maybe i could just give you my number,” the waiter says with a smile that makes your toes curl in disgust.
geto finally looks up, slowly, expression completely unreadable except for the fact that he looks deeply unimpressed. “she’s very clearly not interested.”
silence. complete silence. you even stop breathing, and the waiter blinks, looks between you and geto. “…sorry, man,” he says with an awkward little laugh, hands up. “can’t blame me for trying.”
geto doesn’t even smile. “yeah.” he pauses before saying, coldly, “just get the food and go.”
the waiter straightens. “alright.” he scribbles something on his pad quickly, then mutters, “didn’t know your boyfriend was so serious,” and walks away.
the silence is nuclear. nobody says anything, nobody moves, and your face is so hot you think you might actually die.
because boyfriend.
because geto didn’t correct him.
because nobody corrected him.
gojo is staring at his plate so hard his shoulders are shaking. your roommate won’t look at you. choso’s girlfriend is chewing on her straw like she’s witnessing live television and toji actually says nothing for once in his miserable life.
you risk one glance sideways to see geto staring straight ahead, jaw tight, ears slightly red.
you immediately look away.
dinner proceeds in the most painful silence known to man.
conversation starts back up eventually, but it’s all stilted and everyone keeps exchanging looks when they think you and geto aren't noticing.
you barely taste your food. geto says maybe twelve words the entire meal.
when the bill comes everyone’s kind of ready to leave purely to escape the tension. checks get split, gojo grabs his and his girlfriend’s without looking. choso pays for his girlfriend’s too.
toji stares at his own bill like it insulted his bloodline.
“why the fuck is grilled salmon thirty dollars.”
“because you ordered grilled salmon,” gojo says.
you reach for your wallet quickly.
“i got mine.”
“same,” geto says at the exact same time.
your fingers brush awkwardly near the bill tray, both of you jerking back like you touched fire. chairs scrape back and everyone starts filing out onto the marina walkway under the string lights and the tension between you and geto follows like a third person walking right between you.
saturday - 10 pm
on the drive back to the beach house, gojo’s girlfriend controls the aux while everybody talks intermittently about dinner and shopping bags and whether toji could survive prison after complaining about restaurant prices loud enough for the waiter to hear.
but underneath all of it sits that awful electric awareness between you and geto. every glance feels more loaded than before now, especially after the boyfriend comment. especially because a small part of you didn't want to correct it.
you stare out the window most of the drive pretending the cool night air coming through the cracked glass is enough to settle your heartbeat. (newsflash - it isn't).
when you finally pull into the driveway, the sky’s gone deep navy overhead, stars scattered bright across the water beyond the dunes. gojo stretches dramatically exiting the car. “i feel alive. this was a good day.”
“you screamed at a seagull today,” his girlfriend says.
“well, it was disrespectful. did you see how it took the hotdog out of my hand -”
everyone slowly filters toward the back deck unloading leftovers and drinks while the ocean crashes softly somewhere below. you’re halfway through carrying cups into the kitchen when gojo’s girlfriend suddenly says, “bonfire?”
you all immediately agree and you're honestly grateful for the distraction, because if you had to go straight upstairs right now and exist in a quiet bedroom with geto after today, you think your nervous system might actually collapse.
outside, the fire crackles warmly against the cool night air while everyone settles into chairs scattered around the pit.
you end up directly across from geto. the flames flicker gold across his face while he leans back slightly in his chair listening to gojo argue about horror movies beside him.
he’s not really listening, you can tell. every few seconds his eyes drift back to you again, and the look in them makes your stomach twist painfully.
yearning.
there’s genuinely no other word for it anymore. it’s there in every glance and every pause and every second too long his eyes stay on your face. you feel warm all over despite the ocean breeze.
around the fire, conversation drifts lazily between everyone else toji and gojo arguing and your roommate curled against choso’s side and music humming faintly from someone’s speaker. nobody comments on the way you and geto keep looking at each other. they just quietly notice, giving you both space.
across the fire, geto feels like he’s losing his mind a little.
you look beautiful tonight, your hair slightly windblown, oversized hoodie on, firelight dancing warm across your skin while you smile softly at something choso says.
he can’t stop looking at you and doesn’t really want to. his chest physically aches with it now, this awful wanting.
god, geto’s never been this gone over anybody before.
when yawns start appearing, everybody heads inside. gojo drags his girlfriend upstairs and your roommate shooting you one deeply knowing look before disappearing too.
it’s just you and geto left outside.
you crouch near the firepit gathering empty bottles quietly while embers glow soft orange against the dark.
geto watches you for a second.“…wanna walk to the beach?”
your heart stumbles immediately. “sure.”
the shoreline’s almost completely dark except for moonlight silvering the waves. sand cool beneath your feet, wind soft against your skin. you walk side by side in silence at first. comfortable silence this time. above you, the stars stretch endlessly bright across the sky untouched by city lights.
you stop eventually near the waterline where waves curl around your ankles gently before retreating again.
geto looks at you like he’s trying to memorize something. like his chest hurts with it. like every glance all semester somehow led here, to you, moonlight catching softly against your face when you tilt your head upward to the stars.
beautiful.
the thought, though not new, hits him so hard it almost steals his breath. “…you know what the worst part is?” he says quietly.
you glance over. “what?”
geto laughs softly once, self-aware and helpless. “i spent months trying not to want you this bad.”
your breath catches yet his eyes stay fixed on yours, steady and honest in a way that makes your pulse pound harder. “and now i don’t think i’ll ever stop.”
something in your chest melts completely. there's no teasing in his voice, just aching sincerity. geto looks at you like you're something precious and terrifying and like you're everything all at once, and suddenly you can’t stand the distance anymore.
so you kiss him.
his breath catches sharply against your mouth before he melts instantly, completely. one hand slides gently against your waist while the other cups your face like he can’t believe you’re real, kissing you back slow and deep beneath the stars. warm, careful for approximately two seconds before all that pent-up wanting finally cracks open.
you feel him exhale shakily against your lips. it feels a lot like relief.
you kiss him back just as deep, hands sliding up into his hair you've been aching to hold for months now, tangling your fingers there, and he groans into your mouth, pulling you more flush against him.
your toes curl from the sand when you feel his hardness poking against the top of your stomach.
from one kiss?
when he pulls back it's reluctant, his hands cupping your face and staring into your eyes like you're the only person he's ever seen.
"should we go back?" you ask softly, and he nods immediately. your lips are tingling, geto's hand laced tightly with yours like he physically can't let go now that he finally has you. every few steps he glances at you again with that same dazed expression that makes your stomach flip violently.
like he still can’t believe you kissed him first.
the house is dark when you slip inside, quiet, everyone asleep in their rooms already. you barely make it through the kitchen before geto pulls you gently against him again, kissing you hard enough to steal the breath from your lungs.
you laugh softly into it, hands catching against his chest while he kisses you like he’s trying to memorize the feeling.
months of tension finally snapping all at once.
you nearly stumble into the staircase together trying to stay quiet and by the time you reach the bedroom, both of you are flushed and breathless and grinning a little helplessly.
the door clicks shut behind you and suddenly geto’s hands are on your waist again and your back hits the wall softly beside the door while he kisses you deeper, warm and hungry. your fingers slide automatically into his hair again and he makes this low sound against your mouth that nearly destroys you.
“fuck,” he murmurs quietly against your lips. you can feel how nervous he is underneath it too though, how his hands careful despite how badly he wants you. you tug at the hem of his shirt first and geto pulls back just enough to drag it over his head quickly before immediately kissing you again.
shirtless in the dim moonlit bedroom, he looks unfair. your eyes stare at the tattoos winding along his arms and chest, dark hair loose around his face from the beach wind.
you stare for half a second too long because geto's cheeks flush slightly. (this, of course, makes him infinitely more attractive.)
“don’t look at me like that,” he mutters.
you laugh breathlessly while your hands slide down his chest, his muscles tensing beneath your touch instantly. his fingers hook gently into the hem of your hoodie, hesitation flickering briefly across his face. you nod softly, and that's all he needs.
geto pulls the hoodie over your head slowly and when it drops to the floor he just stares quietly. his eyes drag across your skin with open awe now, nothing hidden in his expression anymore.
this is how he wanted to see you. not startled or accidental. wanted.
heat blooms across your entire body under that look and geto steps closer again slowly, one hand settling against your waist while the other brushes lightly up your side like he’s still convincing himself you’re real. “…pretty girl,” he says softly.
you kiss him again immediately because otherwise you think you might combust, your fingers fumbling with the button of his pants while geto's lips start to press kisses down your jaw.
your back eventually hits the mattress gently as you both stumble toward the bed, and for one second he hovers over you breathing hard while moonlight spills silver across the sheets behind him. he's gazing at you with those lidded eyes, his boxers strained as his hands run up your stomach slowly, savouring, until he's cupping your tits in his hands, squeezing with gentle reverence.
“…i wanna take my time with you,” he says quietly. one hand moves to slide up your thigh while he properly settles over you, his other elbow braced beside your head. one of his legs slips naturally between yours and the pressure makes your breath catch immediately.
a faint smugness flickers briefly through his expression now, that quiet confident energy finally surfacing. “there she is,” he murmurs softly.
heat floods your face instantly and geto kisses you again before you can hide from it. your lips, deeply, tongue sliding against yours, brushing along your mouth. then your jaw, then your neck. his mouth lingers just beneath your ear, sucking gently, while his hand drifts carefully along your waist, thumb brushing slow circles into your skin.
“fuck,” he mutters quietly against your throat. his voice sounds wrecked already.
your fingers slide through his hair, tugging lightly without thinking, and geto exhales sharply against your neck before lifting his head to look at you. dark eyes and flushed cheeks and hair falling loose around his face.
he looks gone.
completely gone for you.
his hand smooths slowly along your waist again before drifting higher, fingertips tracing along your side with almost unbearable patience. your breathing stutters when he holds your tits again, kneading them once before rolling your stiffened nipples between his fingers.
“you okay?” he asks softly.
you nod quickly and he kisses you again while his thumbs slowly brush over sensitive skin, drawing another shaky breath from you. the sound goes straight through him - geto's spent months imagining this. wondering what you'd sound like, how you'd react to him touching you.
(the little, jealous part of his brain remembers aaron. he shoves the thought away immediately.)
reality is infinitely worse for his self control. you squirm slightly beneath him and his leg presses more firmly between yours automatically.
your breath catches harder this time and geto looks at you, something a little darker simmering beneath his eyes. “that feel good?” he murmurs quietly.
you hide your face briefly against his shoulder. “…maybe.”
his laugh comes soft against your hair. “maybe?”
heat floods your face when he tilts your chin back toward him gently. “use your words, pretty girl.”
your stomach twists and you nod once. “yeah.”
“yeah what?”
you stare at him in disbelief. “you’re annoying.”
he grins properly for the first time all night. “and you’re avoiding the question.” before you can answer, he kisses you again, swallowing the tiny embarrassed sound you make while his hand drifts lower along your thigh slowly.
your fingers curl against his shoulders when his mouth returns to your neck again, kissing lower this time while his hand squeezes gently at your thigh. when his hands defly dip into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down, you moan quietly, head turning to the side.
he makes you so nervous and excited your heart feels like it's going to lurch out of your chest.
"can i touch you here, pretty girl?" he murmurs, fingers sliding along your inner thighs until they ghost over your cotton panties. if you'd known you'd end up like..this tonight, youd've chosen a more tasteful pair of underwear.
"please," you whisper, pulling him to your mouth as his fingers press against your clothed cunt, applying just enough pressure to make you mewl into his lips. you feel him smile, pushing your panties to the side before running a finger through your folds.
"you're wet," he chuckles before pushing his finger in, crooking it against your spongey insides. your head falls back against the pillow, hands digging into his back.
"oh my god, geto," you whimper, lips parting.
"suguru," he corrects, pushing another digit in, curling them deep enough to find the gooey spot that has your nails making crescent against his arms.
"suguru, please, 's so good," you babble, thrusting your hips to meet his hand.
he stills for a moment at the sound of his name on your lips. how you moan his name so prettily, begging for more. he leans down, kissing you hard, fingers moving faster and faster inside you, the sound lewd and so dirty and buzzing right to his crotch.
geto feels how you clench around his fingers, and he swallows thickly at the thought of how you'll take his cock. he groans, low and wrecked, capturing your nipple between his lips, teeth grazing along it slightly.
your head's dizzy, stars behind your eyes, gazing at geto and how he's sucking little bruises along your tits, up your neck, down your stomach. constellations of bite marks across your body.
"suguru, i—i'm close," you say, voice breaking. his eyes darken and he thumbs tiny circles over your clit, his two - no, three - fingers curling against all the right spots inside your core.
when you cum, body pulsing hard and hot in waves that make you tingle all over, geto groans, fingering you slowly until your breathing evens. the sight of you coming undone for him has him hardening impossibly more in his boxers, now damp at the front with precum.
you're panting below geto and your hand inches to his boxers, itching to tug them off. "you sure?" he asks quietly, restraint obvious in his voice.
"i'm sure, suguru," you say softly, kissing him again, palming over his boxers. he lets out a strained sound as you reach to pull them down and he quickly obliges, shrugging them off.
suguru geto, in all of his naked glory, is the most beautiful man you've ever seen.
you're rather partial to his pretty, leaking cock, too.
your eyes trace over the vein that runs along one side, the flushed, mushroomed dip, slick with precum, the thick shaft. how it twitches slightly under your gaze, hard and angled up towards his abs. you watch in a daze as he pumps himself slowly, his lips parted, watching you sprawled out so prettily for him, your hair like a halo around your head as you lay there.
you watch his gaze drift down your body, down past your tits, down past the splattering of marks he's left across practially every square inch of your skin. down to your pussy, still slick from your orgasm.
you squirm under geto's face and he tuts, leaning down and pressing his tip to your core. "don't have to be nervous, pretty girl," he says, kissing the side of your neck. his cock brushes against your folds and you both moan quietly.
geto's forehead drops to yours as one of his hands hooks through your thighs, pushing it up as he pushes in slowly. you wince at the pressure, eyes watering slightly - none of the men you've been with have been this...proportionate. he's quick to wipe the tears from your eyes, kissing your cheeks softly, jaw tight as he pushes in more, and more, passing each wall of muscle with a grunt.
"you're squeezing me, y/n, shit," he manages, pushing your thigh higher to deepen the angle. when he finally bottoms out his eyes roll back and you whine.
loud.
geto pushes his thumb into your mouth, his hand cupping your face, and you suck on it gently, face contorting with pleasure as he starts to thrust slowly, struggling to fit his cock back in when he pulls out.
"so tight," he groans raggedly, and all you can do is moan in response, his thumb still in your mouth, his other hand still warm against your thigh, sliding up to squeeze your waist. when geto manages to set a slow, steady pace, he's grunting every time he thrusts in fully, watching your hands grip the sheets desperately.
"right there, suguru," you moan, muffled against his thumb.
"here, pretty girl?" he rumbles, pistoning his cock deep and faster now, brushing your cervix with every thrust.
you nod, babbling incoherently, tugging his hair, holding his biceps, wrapping around his neck, touching everywhere you can and he lowers himself, chest pressed to yours. your tits soft against his skin, your tongue swirling around his thumb.
he holds you reverently, kneading the plush of your thighs as you clench around him, chasing another orgasm. you pull his thumb out of your mouth with a pop, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the digit. "suguru," you whimper, "suguru, suguru, suguru—"
"yeah, i know," he coos, thrusting so deep inside you you can see where he pokes at your stomach, the bulge bumping against your skin every time his cock presses deep in your cunt. "look at that, pretty girl. taking me sooo good, yeah? so good for me."
blood rushes hot through your body, liquid heat coursing through your veins, and your back arches off the bed, pulling geto impossibly closer to you as you moan softly into his ear, biting his neck as you feel your climax build and build and build.
"are you close? 'm gonna cum," he says, voice rough and eyes blown wide. "you feel me here?" he presses his hand to where his cock bulges against your stomach, the pressure stealing the air from your lungs.
"inside," you breathe, panting now. "cum in me, suguru."
and so he does, seconds later, because your voice saying those words along with his name fully break him. he holds you against him as he cums, pulsing thick and hot spurts of release, coating your walls. he rubs circles over your nipples as you climax, too, with a cracked moan of his name and your hands tangled in his hair.
after, you’re both a little breathless, tangled in rumpled sheets with the balcony doors cracked open enough for the ocean air to drift in. geto just stays close, one arm wrapped around your waist while his fingers lazily trace little patterns against your skin like he doesn’t quite know what to do with all this softness in his chest. you’re tucked against him, cheek pressed to his shoulder, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat finally slowing down. “…you okay?” he asks after a while, voice low and sleep-rough now.
you tilt your head to look at him, how pretty he looks with his pink lips and flushed cheeks. you smile softly. “you’ve asked me that like eight times.”
“i know.”
“paranoid?”
he huffs a quiet laugh, looking at the ceiling. “a little.”
your heart squeezes and you lift yourself enough to kiss him softly. geto smiles into it, eyes closing briefly. "you like me," he murmurs, and you bury your face in his shoulder so he can't see you smiling.
he helps you clean up, gently rubbing a warm cloth along your inner thighs where his cum's dried, hands you your hoodie, tucks blankets around you when you both collapse into bed. when you instinctively curl toward the far side like you did the first night, geto just blinks at you. "...seriously?"
you look over. "what?" and he wordlessly lifts an arm. your stomach flips and you slide back over, letting him pull you into his chest. his chin rests lightly on top of your head, one hand smoothing once down your back.
sometime in the middle of the night, you both fall asleep smiling.
sunday - 8 am
the next morning feels surreal. when you wake, blinking sleepily, you realize two things immediately. one: you're basically half on top of geto. two: he's already awake, watching you. the second your eyes meet, he smiles, small and sleepy and completely soft. "...hi," you mumble.
"hi." his voice is still rough with sleep and you both just stare at each other for a second like idiots then start laughing quietly for no reason at all.
everything feels weirdly giddy, soft. you brush hair out of his face, he catches your wrist and kises your palm. as you both get dressed you exhange stupid little smiles the entire time.
however, when you both head downstairs together, something awful starts to creep into your brain. there's no way anyone heard, right...? gojo's girlfriend is a notoriously heavy sleeper, though you don't know much about how gojo sleeps...toji and choso and your roommate, being downstairs, couldn't have heard anything at all. and you weren't that loud.
the living room comes into view where choso's sitting drinking coffee (from a new, temporary machine you bought at the marina yesterday). when he sees you and geto walk down the stairs he goes tomato red and your soul leaves your body. beside you, geto's trying so hard to act normal.
"morning," he says in the most suspiciously casual voice ever.
choso makes a sound that is not a word. "...morning." he looks away so fast he nearly spills coffee on himself. you stare at him, horrified. there is no way. there is absolutely no way they heard anything. they couldn't have.
before you can spiral further, gojo strolls in from the kitchen, looking smug for no reason. "good morning!" he says brightly. you narrow your eyes immediately. never trust that tone. he starts making coffee, chatting casually about breakfast plans like a completely normal person. too normal.
geto relaxes as gojo stirs sugar into his cup. takes a sip, then says, "so."
you feel the danger immediately. gojo glances over with the smile of a man about to ruin lives. " 'cum in me , suguru'?" he says thoughtfully. "that's the best you got?"
you swear time stops. geto goes completely motionless, full red ears to collarbone. your body leaves this earthly plane. choso coughs so hard he nearly dies on the couch. from the back porch, where you now see your roommate, gojo's girlfriend, and toji watching with rapt attention, they all burst laughing.
which means. oh my god.
you stare blankly at the wall in front of you and geto slowly turns toward gojo. "i'm going to kill you."
gojo raises both hands, grinning. "hey, don't shoot the messenger. walls are thin, lover boy."
you make a strangled noise and bury your face into your hands. somehow, impossibly, gojo makes it worse. "also," he says, taking another casual sip, "the name thing was kinda hot. personal fave detail."
"SATORU."
"WHAT? i'm being supportive!"
a/n ~ did u cry when they kissed? no? just me blubbering like a baby writing this? ...
pairing bassist!suguru geto x vocalist!afab reader x lead guitarist!satoru gojo
synopsis after the breakup that suguru regrets with everything he has. he stops feeling anything and chases the highs that somehow, always lead back to you. except, this time, it winds up patching a relationship he thought he left in the past.
tags ex-established relationship (suguru x reader), modern/band!au, western-set, age-gap (satosugu is early 30's, reader is early 20's), heavy angst, heavy explicit drug abuse, struggles with mental illness/mania, addiction, alcohol use, tw: naoya and sukuna appearance, crude/abusive language, sh/suicidal themes, nsfw for explicit drug use and mental health
word count 7.1k
authors note putting a big fat warning on this one first and foremost, we are portraying a character in active addiction. all the good, bad, and tragic nastiness of it all. nobody is romanticizing addiction; there's a reason why suguru is her 'ex'. addiction is very unsexy. seriously don't do drugs
this chapter is cowritten by my twin @macbethinchains it's only right that if we borrow each other's characters, we'd be the ones writing them, right? thank you for making promoter!sukuna and his girliepop shine in this story 🐾 ❤️ see more of them in club classic and more of this naoya in charm :3
(stsg by _3aem on x 🐾 scene divs by cafekitsune)
Suguru can't breathe.
Suspended in water, slight air bubbles rising to the top of the dingy, dripping basin he's drowning in, he doesn't even think about coming up for air.
He's thinking about you.
It's 3 in the morning, still dark outside his third-floor windows, and he hasn't slept. He's blown through an 8-ball since noon, head so full of thick liquid that he can't even form a coherent thought. As the sun set, he threw his inhibitions to the wind and into a handle of vodka, and hasn't seen the light since. He's too far gone, and fuck — he misses you.
Two minutes pass, then three. His hands shake, forearms rattling against his stiff bones as his lungs beg and curl for another breath. Suguru lasts three minutes, then he's throwing his head up in a sharp inhale — long hair dripping and sloshing water all over the surface, and all over him. For a moment, he blinks at himself in the mirror, pushing clouds from his gaze as he stares down his reflection. He coughs, spitting out blood-streaked, phlegmy sink-water that makes his mouth go numb with the traces of coke. He watches the gathered mess float about the surface, then blinks again, reaching up to tug at his eye like an exhausted toddler.
Suguru's been trying to sober up all fucking night — he blows two lines too many, reaches for a shot to calm him down, then gets too drunk, leading him right back to the drug. He doesn't know how to peel himself out of this messy cycle, but his heart is pounding, and his head is swimming. He doesn't think he even wants an out; he wants you.
Suguru doesn't want to die, but if he did, he knows it'd be his fault.
His stomach screams at him for food — his throat angry and craving water, not liquor. The only issue is that Suguru doesn't care about his body. Not when you're not at his feet, cooking his one meal a day, or refilling his water bottle. He's become so totally reliant on you during tour and the last stint of your love that he doesn't understand why he did what he did. He can't escape the sound of your sobs, so he gets fucked up to will it away.
Blinking his gaze clear for the last time, he takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his dripping forehead. He's so numb he can't walk straight, the fumes leaking from his clammy skin smell of jet fuel and regret. After breathing out of his mouth for hours, his breath is sticky and rough — his clothes don't fit, he's sweating through the dark fabric, and he hasn't seen his phone in nearly ten hours.
Still, he rushes out of his bathroom like he's on a mission. His footsteps are heavy, and he's not measuring them; all he can think about is the matte black plate, covered in the remnants of his vice, waiting for him at his bedside.
Drunk off his ass, Suguru stumbles to his bedroom and sits at the edge, hands shaking as he reaches for the plate. The lamplight in the room is soft, and the sirens outside his window sound like God himself, but he refuses to listen. He cards the coke, ruining the first ID he got when he immigrated, with the illegal drugs. He doesn't care — Suguru doesn't care about fucking anything, but when he takes the last line on the surface and looks up expecting more, he cares that he's out of coke.
In fact, he cares so much that he could cry.
"N-no," he whispers to himself, sniffing back into an already packed sinus. His left nostril runs— he doesn't reach up to wipe it away, so now his lips are numb. "Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck," he babbles, falling back onto his mattress, regretting it immediately when his head screams at him. He whines, rolling over to his side, cradling the ache and not stopping the tears that spring back to his eyes.
If he were in his right mind, he would've taken this as a sign to wind down and lose his mind in his covers, but he's manic. There's nothing of worth in his brain — his fingers are numb and blue, and he can't feel anything but how strenuous it feels to just… breathe.
So, he gets up and stumbles as he slides his shoes on at the door. A clammy hand pressed to the lead-painted drywall, he shivers and pants through his lips, wiggling his toes into his loafers that don't match the baggy sweatpants and cut tank top he's wearing. Thank god it's a Friday night in the Lower East Side of Manhattan — he'll fit right in.
Suguru stumbles out of the cab, blown back by the polluted rush of wind rushing back into the stuffy car. He falls back, hardly catching himself on the frame of the door, then mutters out a weak, "Alright, man."
"See you, friend." The cabby calls back, not recognizing the mess in his backseat, but appreciating the hundred-dollar bill Suguru shoved onto him for the five-minute ride. At least, he didn't vomit in his cab — in any case, he'd have more, or nothing at all, to stay.
Now, Suguru doesn't usually… do this. He isn't ever so desperate and impatient to wait until his dealer can meet him, but he doesn't have a choice this time around. His feet are moving without an inch of thought behind them — knowing that he needs a fix above all. The noise is eating him alive, and all he can think about is his next high. The liquor is starting to take over, and his thin body feels like it weighs three times more than it should.
Still, he stumbles through the hordes of people gathered outside his 'friends' club, not offering apologies or looks as he forces his way to the bouncer. They stopped letting people in hours ago, but it doesn't stop the crowds. People like him — notable models, artists, and public figures seek refuge in the no-phone, red-hued sanctuary, hand-picked from a sea of hundreds by Sukuna, himself.
"I got— Lem..me inside." He stutters, shoulder-checking the guy who was first in line, body-blocking his smaller girlfriend from the obviously biased bouncer, only interested in the stumbling mess that Suguru is, right now. "I have.. M—money for Sukuna. Let- let me in."
"You look like shit, man. Sukuna's not gonna be happy."
"I have five thousand dollars in my pocket." It's the only sentence Suguru's brain can grasp — the only way to his next fix. His body is shaking with the idea of it — mouth watering just thinking about the burning taste back on his tongue. What he's doing is somehow working; he hasn't thought about you in hours. "…cash."
"You want the whole goddamn brick?"
"If it means I won't run out,"
"Fine. Go. Don't say I didn't fucking warn you. Low turnout — he's already not in a good mood."
Suguru doesn't answer; he pushes past the crowd at the entrance, feeling the heat of the red lights over his damp skin. His body presses into strangers he's never going to remember, and he likes it that way. He likes how the deep bass of the house music remix shatters his brain matter. He doesn't have to feel in an environment like this, and he knows exactly where to go.
Past the bustle, in a small corner of the club that private security rules like a sanctuary, he walks right up to the section, head bowed until he feels the cold hang of the velvet barricades keeping him at bay. When he looks up, he doesn't have to see — he just feels Sukuna's stare. Suguru has never felt so small before, swallowing down thickness so he comes off a bit more sober than he actually is.
The color of crimson washes over him like a blanket that is too heavy. The ruby-colored lights and scarlet-lined couches look like the blood that is far too hot under his skin, keeping his tired heart pumping for a reason that is unknown to him. The only blue hues that call to him are from his veins and the melancholy sobs from you that have haunted him since he heard them last.
Suguru does not know if he should stare back, stand his ground for once, and fight for what he knows he needs. But his friend's stare is so hefty, his lashes like whips that smack against his cheekbones but hit Suguru from feet away — every blink laced with utter repugnance. Even behind sunglasses, Suguru can make out every blink and eye roll that Sukuna sends his way.
Suguru keeps looking at his feet, the loafers laughing at him as his eyes do a quick turn of the floor to see pairs of shoes he's sure no stylist would ever bring out for him. He doesn't belong here; he's aware of that just as much as the other patrons of the little hell he's standing at the door of, asking for permission anyway.
"No,"
Sukuna didn't need to yell the word over the music. His voice is cold and thick, like a noose waiting to be placed around the neck of whoever's close enough to hear it. Unfortunately, it's squeezing Suguru's, and the pressure of his rejection and the burning pit in the back of his throat from days of alcohol burn is making it harder to breathe.
He peers up, trying his hardest not to stare at the trays lined with the powder he so desperately needs on the little table acting as a barrier between him and the man who could give it to him.
"I have cash," he pats at his sweats. "Extra,"
A couple of people are watching Suguru's pursuit. They sit around Sukuna like they're disciples of an otherworldly being. Overblown pupils, swollen lips, and quick head nods to the music pressing against the walls, keeping the 'normal' people out. Everyone here is dressed in some hue of red and has been on magazine covers and billboards that Suguru could never grasp.
A girl attaches herself to his side, clinging on to him as a safety net in a world that will probably eat her alive if she ever learns to walk on her own. Her finger shakily holds on to Sukuna's wrist, his hand gripped tightly around her bare thigh. In a small way, she reminds Suguru of himself — lost, tired, and in search of something to rid them of the sins they pretend aren't theirs to bear.
Sitting closer to where Suguru stands is Naoya Zen'in. He sits, lazy and smug — left leg crossed over his right. He knows him, in the stories from Nanami and the tabloids that get passed around on the plane and tour buses whenever conversation has run dry. Naoya was everything Suguru wasn't and ever wanted to be. Yet, here they were in the same room, under the piercing stare of the same man who chose them.
Sukuna scoffs, loud and mean, His eyes still boring into Suguru. "Everyone here has cash," he nods around the little entourage. Naoya lets out a slurred chuckle laced with mocking amusement. "What's your fuckin' point?"
"You know I wouldn't have come if I didn't need it," his voice comes out in one long haggard breath — the words bleeding with the lyrics of the song banging against his spine, his untied hair moving with the sway of bodies dancing from feet away.
He's shocked that Sukuna is able to hear him; he almost hoped he can't.
"I don't know shit about you," the big man leans forward, tattooed arms home to his curled fists that rest against the meat of his thighs. His knees press into the table, making the lines dance like special guests to the club.
An eerie moment of silence unfolds, almost as if Sukuna is manufacturing not only his next words, but every movement that is to happen in this room from here on out. "Actually, I do," he sneers. The statement and the words feel like fire coming out of his mouth — pushing Suguru on the shoulders, making him slouch like a child in front of a scolding parent.
Suguru wasn't sure why Sukuna had such disdain for him. They only really connected in dark clubs over drugs and money deals; their conversations were nothing more than Sukuna's jabs and Suguru's buying proposals. Quick feather-like touches from the exchange of goods, and the occasional shared line of the drug they both find themselves chained to. Nothing worthy enough to call an actual friendship; more like an alliance where the only goal is to watch Suguru hit rock bottom again and again. The 'bottom' digs itself deeper and deeper, making it harder for him to ever crawl back up and meet Sukuna at his feet.
Sukuna himself couldn't really tell you either. It was a mass collection of things, not one single thing blaring its red flag. He thought Suguru's songs were too melancholy. He thought Suguru himself was nothing more than a performative shell of a man — tied to an instrument that allows him to hide his desires in dark studios that are fogged with egos too big, and nothing like his.
Suguru's addiction to his lead singer was deplorable and too public. Sukuna had his fair share of experience with addiction, but he believed he had it under control; he would never lose the will to be himself from the pain of loving someone too much. Especially not for a woman.
Suguru was nothing more than what you wanted him to be — or what he thought you wanted him to be. The real Suguru only crept out when he knew you were inches away from finding aid in someone else, dark lyrics, and when he was 'quietly' begging for the drug to help him cope.
Sukuna saw right through the act and loathed him for it.
"You're a pathetic little shit who's trying to forget about that bitch you're so torn up about," his voice doesn't rise to overtake the music, or the tapping happening from Naoya as he hides his grin behind the phone that should've been confiscated at the entrance. His tone is almost lighter than before, words hitting plainly, as if he stood outside the hotel room in London when he saw you last.
Sukuna knew him, and if Suguru wasn't on a mission to forget about you and his failure, his stomach would've churned hard enough so that he vomited right at the promoter's feet.
Suguru swallows the saliva gathered in the back of his throat, the gulp making him see stars from how painful it was. He stands his ground, his weighty head standing tall as he stares back at Sukuna; thin, jittery fingers balling into fists that won't do much if they had to be used to defend himself, or in this case, your name, from the man that does nothing but hurt anyone who stands in front of him.
In one smooth motion, Sukuna rises from his throne. His girl, getting swallowed by the couch, swimming in the bloody anger that has brewed in his spot the whole night long. Everyone works their heads upwards to follow his gaze, Suguru's temples throbbing in the process, tears moistening his lash line as he tries to gather the strength to stand still.
"What?" Sukuna's steps start slow, inching around the table to where Suguru stands. Suguru starts to feel the room tilt on its axis, keeping the air tight and prison-like around him, making his damp skin tighten around his bones."Going to write a song about this?"
Suguru can taste the stale vodka roll in his stomach, quickly tapping at his esophagus. His eyes feel way too heavy, and everything is so loud — so fucking loud. But he could only adequately make out Sukuna's predatory steps and the remnants of your sobs haunting him everywhere he goes. He thinks he's leaning to the left, his arms acting as balance beams for his shivering body.
He's going through a panic attack, at the foot of a table that could offer him the remedy to forget about you — forget about his faux will to live, and the sleep he hasn't gotten in days.
Sukuna steps forward, his body heat smacking Suguru across the face and snapping him out of it for just a minute. His spiral's hidden the best he thinks it could be, but not under the deathly eye of the tattooed druggie.
His voice grabs at Suguru's eyelids, making him watch the words form on his tongue.
"We can all bring out instruments and write about the world of whatever the fuck you got going on,"
The music is still beating out on the club floor behind him, mixing with the not-so-quiet snickers rolling out of a "preoccupied" Naoya. The actor is finally getting the attention he always wanted from Sukuna; the promoter is turning to the man, pretending to hide his enjoyment.
With a flare of his arm and a tone that would probably be embedded into every brain cell that connects you back to Suguru, Sukuna asks, "Hey, do you think we'd be able to fuck his girl too? Or is that only available to his friends turned bandmates?"
All of the air that was settling in his scorched lungs rushes out in an empty gag, the absence of food not being able to fall at his loafers and Sukuna's shoes. He thinks he's starting to feel sober; everything is clawing at his throat and wanting to be freed from this tireless hell he's currently putting himself through.
His eyes feverishly jump around, looking for anyone and anything but Sukuna's all-seeing eye. Suguru could only find a sliver of solace in the eyes of Sukuna's girl, sinking into the couch, looking back at him wide-eyed and fearful. Suguru wants to laugh and cry — to wash away the fear or the concern that is being sent his way. He doesn't deserve it.
"You heard about that too?" Naoya's laugh ricochets off the red walls. He looks back down at his phone, fingers tapping faster than the sweat trailing down Suguru's shirt.
"What can I say?" Sukuna shrugs, standing directly in front of the sweaty mess that Suguru has become. Sukuna bends forward, his face inches from his — Suguru watches his descent, his nose twitching against the harshness of the lines inked on his face. The lack of hygiene from nothing but drugs and alcohol seeps from Suguru's pores and hits Sukuna's airstream. "I like to dabble in a bit of celebrity gossip," a grin stretches in front of him, one dressed in nothing but objection; it almost makes Suguru try to envision your face on with this grin instead. To make it safer, make it warranted. "It's one of the ways I make my money."
"F-fuck you," the unpleasant mixture of hatred and nervousness pierces through Suguru's defeated words. He isn't sure at the moment if he was throwing them at Sukuna, himself, or you and Satoru. The embarrassment of knowing that everyone was privy to information that he himself wanted to pretend didn't exist.
He saw the pictures, heard the roll of your tongue when you called his friend 'Satoru' instead of Gojo. He saw the ways light beamed out of you when around the guitarist, a very different setting when it was you and him — shoddy corners inked in dark blues and the whispers of the things that he knew he couldn't fix.
"Fuck me?"
Suguru ignores the red flashing around and continues to talk, just to get his hands on what he fucking needs right now. "All I'm asking for is a little hel—
Sukuna's voice booms so loudly that it startles the girl on the couch, her body shaking as her eye contact jumps from a begging Suguru to Sukuna's tense back, "I'm not your damn friend." His hands rise, balled into fists. Suguru winces at the impact that never comes. "You could jump off the fuckin' Brooklyn bridge tomorrow, and I would not care. Why the fuck would you come to me for help?"
It is a valid question, one that Suguru is not entirely sure he thought through before coming here.
"You have what I need," he's scrambling for a reason, his voice sounding far away and so unlike his own, he isn't sure when he completely lost the rest of himself. Was it in the taxi? When he heard Sukuna mention you and Satoru? Or when he left you in that hotel room? "If it's that hard to give me what I want, I'll go find it somewhere else."
It happens too fast, startling everyone in the room besides Sukuna. Pain pinches on the back of Suguru's neck as Sukuna's thick hand makes contact. Fingers feeling the sporadic beat of his pulse as his body gets pulled forward, tired limbs voluntarily going with the motion. His knees hit the floor; his sweats have no cushion for the force with which he gets pulled down. In a single beat, Suguru's face is slammed onto the table, his eyes closing on impact — the tears living at his lash line finally falling free, wetting the corner of his eyes and running down the slope of his pierced nose.
His face makes an involuntary home on a bed of lines of untouched coke, the pureness almost lost on him as he kneels at the drug's whims, forced by the hand of someone who couldn't care less if he overdosed right here, right now. Frenzied mind and the so-called faux intimacy that raises his blood pressure at the opportunity to finally get lost in his own pain again. He inhales deeply, trying and praying silently that particles of coke hit his nostrils again, making this okay — making him feel better.
"The downhearted artists' drug," Naoya says, more to himself, but it's the last thing Suguru can soberly latch on to before his tongue slips out of his mouth, meeting the chalky powder that sits unbothered and silent on the table. Like a dog hungrily lapping at the bone that is being hung above its shaggy head, or in this instance, the drug that has been shoved under the cheekbone and watery eyes of an exhausted, begging man.
Heat rushes through his veins at an unmatched pace, numbness finally washing over his tired and abused body. The high he's been chasing tingles his calloused fingertips and rushes to his thigh, where his wad of cash sits, patiently waiting to be placed in the hand of his supplier.
He can't feel his heart beat, he can't feel the air he's stuffily inhaling through his exploited nostrils. He could barely feel Sukuna's fingertips bruising themselves into his pale and clammy neck.
Worst of all, he can't block out the memory of your sobs.
"Take all you need," Sukuna's breath slashes against Suguru's profile, hot and mean. Sukuna's body almost completely hovering above his own, shielding him from the lights and the music still fueling the dancing and happy yells. Whispering to him and the coke he is finally giving him after all his jabs and unsolicited advice. "Disgusting excuse of a man,"
Suguru hangs onto that, finding some respect given from how Sukuna didn't yell it. He didn't let the other patrons hear the truth, letting the words almost gently fall in Suguru's ears, and his ears alone.
"'Kuna," a quiet voice calls to him. Suguru can't see the owner of the voice, but he hopes they could feel the gratitude he hopes he could muster up to send their way. It speaks to Sukuna, a quiet considerateness finally entering the room and speaking to the man in a way that Suguru is too far gone to even pinpoint.
Sukuna's grip loosens, his face still painted in disgust. "Get the fuck out of my club, Geto," he snarls, lips ticked up in a grimace. Suguru's cheek still pressed into the table, hammering against his inhibitions and his so-called friend's 'help'.
"Go call a friend to fuckin' help you,"
Satoru feels good. Finally.
He feels like home, hot and sensual at your side, splayed out on your couch with your feet in his lap. Half-empty glasses of wine sit on the table, his hardly touched, and yours barely just breaking even. His big hand is between your thighs, resting against your core in a territorial tightness you can't run from — you don't want to.
Satoru leans into you, jaw pressing against your jawline, lips puckered and marking the skin as his. He kisses you like he's on a mission to prove his devotion, hot and wet against your neck as he descends.
"And, sure, I would agree or maybe even support the stories if they were true, but they're all so fake that it's stupid."
"Mhm," Satoru responds, lips too busy at your skin to break away and offer a coherent thought. He's been letting you talk about Suguru as much as you need, now that he knows about the breakup. He also used that leverage, and your loneliness, to book a one-way ticket into your bed, and you never had the strength to turn him down.
"Why do you think we broke up, 'toru?"
"Seriously?"
"I mean… as an outsider looking in. It's obvious, isn't it?"
He offers his weight to his free hand, splayed out on the cushion, light eyebrows furrowed as he thinks about your question. "Sure. Now, can I kiss you?"
You pause for a second, holding deep, blue eye contact with your guitarist as he blinks up at you like an expectant doe. "Humor me."
"Do, what?"
"Mmf— whatever," you roll your eyes, tilting your chin as he pulls back in for another wet cluster of kisses against your neck, pulling down to your collarbone.
"Explain to me what you meant. Wanna understand you."
"It's so stupid, I swear." Your hips rise from the cushions as his long fingers trail up to the button on your blouse. "Satoru—
"I want you so bad."
"I have to pee."
Your intimacy breaks, Satoru hears that and sits back on the couch, withdrawing his hand from your thigh and chest. He takes a breath, reaching up to roll his kiss-swollen bottom lip between his fingers. Against his man-spread, you can tell how… excited he is. It's the closest he's gotten to being with you in that way, and his body is reacting before his mind even can.
"Go pee, princess."
"Don't… call me that." You mumble, head hazy with the strength of your cheap, screw-top wine. He chuckles, shiny teeth catching the soft overhead lights as you fix your clothes and walk behind the couch.
You're not thinking about it — deciding that you'll be gone for two minutes, max, but Satoru doesn't say anything. Your phone sits upright on the living room table, bright with text notifications, giving him little peeks of your lockscreen that's still a picture of Suguru before he lost all the weight and muscle mass, smiling for your picture under the cover of the Central Park cherry blossoms that remind him of home.
Satoru sits up, resting his elbows on his spread knees, pupils flicking back between your phone, then to the muted news channel on the TV. A song plays on in the background — 90s, soulful, and sexy. In its presence, Satoru ponders whether or not he truly belongs here, with you.
Then, your phone rings. It's silent, buzzing, and blinking on the table with a vengeance that demands his attention. The timing was almost too perfect, as he's heard the bathroom door click softly behind you, then finds himself pondering just how close he is to you. If he answers your phone, would you freak out? Probably.
Satoru answers anyway.
'I didn't t-think you'd answer.' Suguru's voice hits him like a hot whip to the spine, stunning him in his tracks before he can even open his mouth to speak. 'My baby,'
"Suguru…"
Silence. Satoru feels it. '…Satoru?'
"Hey… man."
He hears a laugh on the other end of the line. A fake one, laced with surprise, unease, and enough angst to stop a grown man's heart. Satoru holds his breath, fingers tightening around your device like he knows he's in the wrong. 'The one time… I ever needed her to answer…'
"Are you… okay? You sound—" Satoru cuts himself off, wincing as the heavy wind knocks the other line, blooming static in his ear. "Where are you even at? I can't hear a thing,"
'The carousel… I've lived here for nearly ten years and haven't been to Dumbo, yet.' His voice is soft… too entirely soft. 'I've always wanted to see that view of Chinatown, without all the rats and whatnot.'
"You're on the bridge?" Satoru whispers, putting his brain to work, trying to remember the relative layout of a city he doesn't call his own. "What are… Suguru?"
'I wonder if it'd hurt more… falling into traffic or taking my chances scaling and climbing these barricades.'
Satoru's heart falls like a ton of bricks, making its home in the base of his gut. He stares at the wordless television, eyes unblinking, lips parted. "What is that supposed to mean?"
'You didn't even let her get the chance to miss me…'
"Sugu—
The line hangs up, clicking off like there wasn't a lifetime of words that had to be spoken in that very moment. Satoru feels… numb. He feels nasty and exploited for his heart, and it's shattering with every breath he takes. He glances into the hallway where you disappeared to, then back to the TV, slowly lowering the device from his pierced ear.
The phone drops back on the table with a metallic thump, and he lowers his head into open, shaking palms, unsure how or whether to bring this up to you, or let it simmer in silence. He can't choose, especially when the bathroom door clicks back open over the ghost of a soft flush and the rush of running water.
You emerge, running your hands over your dark leggings. "Sorry, 's the wine."
Satoru peeks up from his covered eyes, feigning a sparkling smile to remind you how everything is okay. "Ran right through your sensitive little bladder, hm?"
"You're such a goddamn flirt." You reply, breathless as you round the back of the couch and fall into the cushion next to him. On impact, he sits up, guiding your bare feet back into his lap so he can massage them. "But, seriously…" You yawn, arms stretching high above your head, hiking your shirt just enough for Satoru to feel the ghost of your soft tummy. "I'm getting sleepy."
"Sleepy hea—
"Shut up," you sigh, letting the endearment go right over your head. "And you can sleep on the couch, Mr. Handsy man."
"Very funny." Satoru deadpans, rolling the ball of your feet between his long, thin fingers. "But, smart. We wouldn't get much sleep if I joined you."
"I'm saying… maybe in a few hours, I wouldn't be pressed if I felt you slide in next to me."
"Anything to ease the noise in your head, huh?" He chuckles, deep and low, and it makes your tummy flutter. "I'll take you up on that… You should head off to sleep, though. Choso messaged and said he needs a translator when he goes to the bar tonight." It's a lie, but Satoru is too good at it; he doesn't even flinch when you crack a stupid little smirk.
"Yeah? You're staying downtown, right?"
"Probably… Have any recommendations?" He sits up as you stand, eyes following your backside as you gather the glasses, pouring the rest of Satoru's into your own so you can down it in a few oddly timed gulps.
"For downtown? Like, down, downtown near the water? No, I don't go down there. You two should check out the East Village."
"Like… near the Brooklyn Bridge."
"Why would you be going towards the Brooklyn Bridge?" You make a face — cocking a suspicious brow as Satoru stands, knees cracking with how long he's been stagnant. "Just stay in Lower East."
"If you insist…" He stands, hands on his hips, as you walk into the kitchen, disappearing for a second and a half as delicate glass hits the base of your metal sink.
When you remerge, it's with a slight stumble in your step, Satoru smiles. When he looks at you, he can't think of anything else. "Can I have a kiss goodnight?"
"Come and get it."
Satoru is actually the world's worst liar. He's also a sneaky fucking thief, ducking out of your creaky apartment door after you fall asleep with your phone in his pocket. Of course, he knows your passcode — you drunkenly served it to him on a night you were desperate for an Uber back home instead of a city taxi.
He runs out of the walk-up building with his shoes untied, grey zipped hoodie pulled over his light, finger-combed locks. He smells like you — feels like you, but doesn't feel bad. Satoru is doing what he knows you can't, and to him, that's doing you a service because he thinks he loves you.
Now, Satoru doesn't like how much you love Suguru.
It's so fucking early — inching far past four in the morning, and exactly eighteen minutes after Suguru initially called. Satoru hasn't let himself slow down since he left your place, but the second his designer sneakers hit the filthy pavement outside, he pulls out your phone and navigates straight to his contact.
The line rings — Satoru guesses where he's running, phone held to his ear as he decides between north or south. It's a nightmare city for him, but it's your city, so he learns. "Canal and…" He whispers to himself, squinting at the night-covered street signs. Then, the line clicks.
'Oh, you answered—
"It's me… Suguru—
'What is wrong with you? Why do you have her phone?'
"Because I don't want you to kill yourself! This is useless, all of it!"
'…why are you yelling at me?'
"Because…" Satoru calms down, his breath heavy as he runs through an unprotected crossing. "It's the only way you'll listen to me. It's the only way you've ever fucking listened to me."
Suguru doesn't answer. The wind does — it brushes the speaker like a silent, cruel insult.
"This is more than the money, now. It always was. Now, it's more than the girl."
'And you still can't admit that you took her from me.'
"You broke up with her."
'… I had no choice!' Suguru is eerily sober now, screeching at the top of his lungs as a pair of tipsy tourists cross his manic episode. He brings his shaking hand to his mouth, breathing out a silent sob into his palm that he chokes on. 'I fuckin' had to do it. I have to do it.'
"Shut up! Just stop and listen for a minute." Satoru is flustered, sweating at the brow as he breaks out in a feverish sprint through the next block, following the signs to the Historic Brooklyn Bridge.
'I can't live without her. Physically, I can't,' Suguru sobs, feeling as small as the day he was born in this raw, exposed point in time. His heart hurts, his feet are numb. 'She knows, and she still chose you.'
"I chose her. I am choosing her, Suguru. You don't get to choose someone you keep neglecting."
'You're making it worse… You all are fucking making it worse!'
"I know, but listen to me—
'I just know…' He pauses, biting a raw, ringed fist as he stares the Brooklyn skyline head-on. 'I don't wanna feel like this—
"Suguru…" Satoru's tone drifts all at once as he jogs the street that leads to the overpass connecting the bridge to the pedestrian walkway. "I let you leave me for ten years. I won't let you leave me again."
'Don't sa—
"Yes, I will, and I am." He bites, licking over his dry lips from his breathless pants. He's turned a fifteen-minute walk into a seven-minute mad dash, hoodie hanging from his broad shoulders and skin pinched an impossible shade of red. "I'm going to keep saving you over and over until it clicks. I love you."
Suguru stands silent, measuring Satoru's hurried pants over the line.
"I love you, I do."
'Satoru—
"You're throwing yourself away, and I love you."
It feels like he's scaled half the bridge in the few seconds he's been talking, because Satoru can see him — a fist curled against the iron-wrought suspenders keeping the pedestrians at bay. Suguru wants to challenge them, but with how he's tightening his grip as Satoru approaches, he can't admit that he has a fleeting, saving thought.
"Suguru…" Satoru rasps, dropping your phone, covered in his pearly sweat
Suguru slips his eyes closed, phone falling at his feet in a dull thump. He swallows down thickness, then parts his lips because he still can't draw a breath through his clogged sinuses. He doesn't want to face Satoru — he doesn't want to stare into his eyes under the cover of darkness, and doesn't want him to swoop in like the savior he always believed he was.
Still, Suguru doesn't run away. He has all the space to, but decides, instead, to grab the bar with his other hand. "Go away."
"Don't be fucking stupid."
"Would you stop? Stop talking to me like that, I've been the butt of everyone's ego all goddamn day!" Suguru's trying to calm his shaking voice, but not his shaking hands. He needs another shot — maybe another dip of blow, but can't bring himself to even glance Sukuna's way again. He'd have to get creative, speaking through friends of friends to get what he needs, now. "I at least thought I could call my baby, and she'd make it all go away…"
"I'm sorry,"
"No, you're not." Suguru bites, rising to his toes, body shivering as a rush of air pushes his body back. "D-don't lie to me."
"No, I'm sorry that you two aren't together, I really fucking am." Satoru takes a careful step forward, afraid that one quick move could shove Suguru over the edge. "I want you to know that it really has nothing to do with me. She won't even touch me because she loves you so much."
"Stop lying," He repeats as a sorry, last-ditch effort as he tries to remember your warm touch on his skin that now reaches for Satoru. It hurts — seeing your face in the rearview. He doesn't want to believe you're behind him, but the future is so strong and so sure, staring at him with bleak, blue eyes. Suguru hasn't stopped crying; tears stream down his face too quickly for him to even try to wipe them away. They're silent, the deadliest kind of sadness.
"Every time she looks at me, I can see her eyes searching for you." Satoru begins, taking a tentative step forward, crossing his long limbs over his chest as another gust of wind blows through the interaction. "Oh, she just loves you so much." He shakes his head, shivering at the thought of what he knows is true. "So fucking much that she won't let me in. I hope you know just how devastating that is for me."
Throughout the past, if there's one thing Satoru latched onto, it's walking Suguru off a ledge. The opportunity comes and goes in waves, just like his friend's mood, but when he gets like this, the only thing he can do is lower himself to a similar level. Satoru feels small now that he's confronting these truths about his relationship with you, but he needs to feel it. Pity is a feeling lost on the pair — togetherness is something that always came naturally.
Suguru actually… turns his head and looks at him, eyes bloodshot and shadowed by the darkness, nose wet and running. Satoru stops, heart hammering as his other goes to speak. "She said your name during sex. I-I think… she did."
Satoru can't lie — his stomach does a spin. He shakes his head, eyes wide and innocent, like he knows he is. "We've never…"
"You haven't touched her?"
"Never even kissed." Lie. You let him in last night and didn't pull away when he grabbed your hips and kissed your cheek, not stopping until you let him on your lips.
Suguru stands silent for a moment, turning back to the water when a couple passes by, hand-in-hand. He can't bear the sight, and he can't bear the loneliness. "Then why don't I believe you?"
"…maybe because she said my name during sex."
Suguru scoffs, tossing his head to the side and turning around once the couple passes. He steps out into the walkway, away from the edge, and Satoru stands back. But, instead of turning and heading back to Manhattan, Suguru turns towards Brooklyn. He doesn't speak, so Satoru has to.
"You're going home… right?"
"I said I was going to Dumbo."
"No, I think you should go home. I have a smoke on me, we can walk together." No answer. Suguru continues down the bridge, footsteps small and weak, so Satoru doesn't have to raise his voice. "Turn around, come on."
"I'm going to Dumbo." He repeats, just as blankly as the first time. Satoru willingly takes a step closer to Brooklyn.
"Bullshit, we're going to yours."
"…Dumbo."
"You are the Dumbo at this point. Come on." Satoru knows he has him again, which is why he steps forward, reaching out for Suguru's arm once he's in length. As they touch, the world seems to shake against its axis. Suguru swings around, eyes wide and manic like he's been jumpscared. "You need sleep, and you smell like cheap alcohol; it's gross."
"Get… off of me." Suguru shies away, pushing Satoru's arm as it goes to wrap around his shoulders and carry him home. "I don't want to be touched."
"She really did a number on you, didn't she?" He comments, bringing his limbs back into his chest as Suguru finally, grudgingly turns around, headed back to Manhattan, leaving the promise of the Brooklyn skyline on the water for another night.
"Careful," Suguru mumbles, barely able to open his eyes, fingers itching at his cold, bare arms as they start walking side-by-side. "She'll do worse to you."
Toji Zenin is incomprehensibly powerful due to his Heavenly Restriction, granting him superhuman abilities that reflect in his strength, speed, and even… senses.
Yet it isn't until he goes out on a date with his first girlfriend at the ripe age of 22 that he realizes how exceptional his prowess really is when it comes to surpassing the average human.
His nose twitches. “You get a new perfume or somethin’?” he inquires as you pull him back into your apartment, kicking your shoes off at the entryway impatiently and standing on your tip toes to pepper kisses along the column of his throat, teeth grazing his carotid.
You shrug absentmindedly like you can’t quite hear him through the haze of your lust, fingers curling into the supple feel of his leather jacket and peeling it off of his sturdy shoulders.
As if he can’t get undressed fast enough, or slip his cock into you sooner.
“Nope. Shut up and kiss me,” you headily groan out, voice breathy and body emanating a heat that has him cocking an eyebrow.
Things shifted from then on, Toji picking up on the minute details.
Every couple of months, when he’d be in close quarters with you, you’d start nuzzling against him like a whiny mutt and exude a fucking scent that had him itching his scalp. He’d barely rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyes and you’d be canting your hips back against his crotch, whimpering in your groggy state at the asscrack of dawn about how he needed to "kiss your cervix."
Whatever that meant.
At first, he chalked it up to you being horned up and ready to go—but coupled with the scent? It had him reeling.
Toji is a smart man, and he isn't incognizant with the female body. But he is still a man—one who needs to do his research and allow someone to explain whatever he’d missed out on puzzling together on his own.
r/SexEd - 3 hr. ago
tojiz
I (22M) have run into an issue of sorts with my girlfriend (22F). Her body emits this weird smell when she’s horny and trying to mount me. Anyone know what this is?
—
sixeyesandsixabs - 1 hr. ago
lmfao. sounds like she’s in heat.
Toji’s fingers twitch against his phone screen.
Heat? As in the fucking wattpad shit you made him read?
He audibly scoffs at the guy’s piercing blue eyes in his profile picture. No, you weren’t in heat, a cramping omega in need of their fucking alpha to soothe their pains, and this wasn't fucking Omegaverse. There was no fantastical sweet scent like pastries that trickled from your glands to make his mouth water.
It was more… primal. A feminine musk that radiated from you when you were needy. It’d last for around a day or so, then be gone with the wind along with your incessant need to have him stuffing you with his cock.
He groans, dragging a hand down his face, before his phone notifies him of another comment.
leopardprint - Just now
Maybe you’ve just got a knack for sensing her ovulation.
“Huh,” he breathes out, mind now churning like an oiled cog in a rusty mechanism.
He tosses his phone aside noncommittally and quickly paces over to you. You have your legs tossed over the side of the couch, bleakly flipping through his ancient television with no streaming options and only droning cable. You're wearing his shirt, perky nipples pressing through the flimsy fabric. Mascara from the night before and a bare face. The kind of look he'd prefer over anything else.
“When was your last period?”
Skeptically, you drag your gaze up to him. “Well, hello to you, too,” you scrunch your eyebrows, squinting at him before pinpointing an answer. “Uh. Like a week ago. Why?”
A quiet hum of realization hits him. That makes perfect fucking sense. Women typically ovulate about two weeks after their period starts, giving him… not long until your next ovulation period.
He cocks his head down at you, hungry gaze trickling over your form. You’re in his boxers like a fucking tease.
Maybe he was the one ovulating and needing to paint his biological needs on your insides with the way blood was rushing south like molten lava.
You hadn’t been pawing at him in a bit, a hint that you should be starting it up soon.
He’d just jump the gun before you could squeeze the trigger.
Your boyfriend leans over you, splaying a hand over your lower abdomen and adding a bit of pressure. Playful intent and all, the corner of his lip twitches upwards and you feel skittish. “You feel anything here, darling?”
His voice is gravelly and thick, the tone he reserves for the bedroom, and the timbre is sent straight to your core to pool heat in your loins.
You swallow thickly, orbs darting between his jade irises before nodding.
He inches forward, bringing his nose towards your neck and inhaling the scent covering your skin.
Affirmed, you’re ovulating.
He chuckles low, knowing, pressing a tender kiss against your jugular.
CW: best friends, double penetration, they are arguing and annoyingly hot, they kiss, creampies
f!reader
idk bruh take my laptop away
Your best friends were really fucking annoying.
Two ego-driven idiots you've known your entire life, and somehow they always dragged you right into the middle of their bullshit. Usually it was harmless, passive aggressive comments over dinner, or petty arguments over who you liked more.
Now it was this.
Your head feels light, thoughts melting into useless static as Satoru's thick cock bullies deep into your pussy while Suguru slowly fucks into your ass from behind, both of them stretching you so full you can barely breathe around it.
And they're still arguing.
Suguru's large hand slides over you waist, fingers tightening as he pulls you back harder on him. "She's shaking," he murmurs against your ear. "You're being too rough."
Satoru scoffs instantly.
His grip bruises your hips as he drags you back onto his cock with a sharp thrust that punches a cry out of you. "She likes it rough. Don't you, sweetheart?" His fingers tap your cheek mockingly soft. "Look at her. Poor thing can't even think."
You whimper at a another brutal slam of his hips, clawing at Satoru's chest while your head falls back against Suguru's shoulder.
"See?" Suguru hums smugly. "Too much." His lips brush your temple, soft compared to the way he's filling you. "Not everything has to be a competition, Satoru."
"Everything is a competition," Satoru laughs, his blue eyes flicking towards his best friend over your shoulder. "You're just pissed I'm winning."
"Winning?" Suguru echoes, then chuckles, continuing to shove himself impossibly deeper.
The next thrusts land in sync. You mewl helplessly, pussy dripping down one cock while your tight hole squeezes the other.
"Fuuuuck," Satoru groans, head tipping back. "Bet you wish you could feel how tight this pussy gets around me." He gives a shallow thrust just to hear you whine. "So slippery and still sucking me back in. She likes me better Sugu. Can't help it."
"Aw, is that so?" Suguru challenges. "Then why is she crying for me?"
You jolt violently at the first torturously soft circle against your puffy clit, a broken 'Suguru' leaving your throat.
"Oh, that's cute," Satoru mutters, annoyed now. "Using your fingers 'cause your cock isn't enough?"
Suguru only smiles against your neck, satisfied as he continues stroking your sensitive bud. "Unlike some people, I'm actually trying to make her cum." His dark eyes lazily flick to Satoru. "You remember that's the point, right?"
"I didn't forget," Satoru hisses.
He grabs your chin, forcing your watery eyes onto his. His hips keep driving hard to reclaim your attention and make your stomach twist.
"C'mon, princess. Look at me." A deep thrust from both ends cuts off your breathing. "I'll make you feel so good, promise."
His thumbs brush over your nipples, pinching just enough to make you arch between them. You're overwhelmed—drooling, twitching, and completely lost as to why these two took so long before fucking you.
When Satoru's thrusts get deeper and faster, Suguru's follow, each one jolting you up the bed.
"O-Oh— s-shit— mmmghhh—"
Satoru groans, leaning down to mark your chest wih messy kisses and sharp bites. "Squeezing me so tight, baby girl. Fuck, you getting close?"
Suguru sucks another bruise into your neck, fingers never slowing over your clit. "You feel amazing, angel. So pretty when you fall apart for me."
"For you?"
"Yeah, for me."
"Please. You think those weak little circles are doing all this?"
"S-Shut u-up—" you finally manage, shaking as your hands thread into the hair at the back of their heads.
They're already close, a strange, heated look passing between them before you shove them together.
To your not-at-all surprise, there's zero resistance. Their lips crash together and it's messy and hungry and mean—all teeth and breathy groans swallowed into their mouth's while they keep fucking you dumb.
It's so hot, you can't help but cum as their tongues dance together in front of your eyes.
Satoru breaks the kiss first with a rough curse, Suguru following with a groan against his mouth. Both of them still at the same time as they cum together, pumping your well used holes with their release.
You can already feel the headache forming for when they start bickering about who made you cum.
Trying to get your hot neighbour’s attention got wrong.
(Dilf Suguru Geto, he’s really hot, mostly crack)
He was ruining your life. No actually, correction.
You were ruining your own life because of your insanely hot older neighbor who probably thought you were a public disturbance at this point.
It had only been a month since you moved into the apartment building and somehow within those thirty miserable days your entire brain chemistry had been rewired by one man.
One gigantic, broad shouldered, unfairly attractive man. You first saw him on a random Tuesday morning while running late for college, half awake and emotionally exhausted because your boyfriend at the time was currently arguing with you over the phone about how he “never made enough time for you anymore.”
Which was ironic because the moment the elevator doors opened, you immediately stopped caring about that man entirely. Because standing there was the hottest person you had ever seen laid your lustful eyes on. Tall. Like genuinely tall. Around 6’2 at least.
Massive shoulders stretching a dark fitted shirt, thick arms veined from carrying grocery bags in one hand while unlocking his apartment with the other. His raven hair was shoulder length in a wolf cut and messy, with bangs carelessly like he had bigger things to worry about than looking devastatingly attractive at eight in the morning.
And then there were the eyes.
Lord, save me. Half lidded and sharp and tired in a way that made your stomach do cartwheels.
The little wrinkles around them somehow made him even hotter. Honestly? unfair. It was so so so unfair ugh.
Beside him stood two girls around twelve years old, both loudly arguing with him while he looked completely exhausted already.
“Dad, she took my charger.”
“I borrowed it.”
“You’ve had it for three days.”
He sighed deeply like this conversation had shortened his lifespan. “I’m begging both of you to stop talking before coffee.” You nearly folded on the spot. Because not only was he hot. You glance at his hands…no ring.
He was a dad.
A really really…hot dad.
One of the girls looked up at him. “You look angry.”
“I am angry.”
“You always look angry.”
“That’s just my face.”
And then he looked up. Straight at you. Fuck. He gave you a small polite smile. “Morning.”
And damn that voice too. Of course he has a sweet, honeyed voice. Your soon to be ex boyfriend was still talking through your phone speaker.
“Hello? Are you even listening?”
And without even thinking, you went, “I think we should break up.”
“What?”
The elevator doors closed. You never emotionally recovered after that. After learning his name was Suguru, things only got worse. Because obviously the hottest man alive would have the sweetest name possible.
And the more you saw him around the apartment building, the more pathetic you became. You started timing your laundry trips. Checking your mailbox five times a day.
Taking forever to unlock your apartment if you heard footsteps nearby. You even started dressing better to take the trash out which was genuinely humiliating to admit.
Meanwhile Suguru remained painfully unaware. Always busy with his daughters. One was quieter and rolled her eyes a lot while the other talked nonstop and clung to his arm dramatically whenever they walked together.
And he was annoyingly good with them too. Patient but sarcastic. Gruff but soft underneath it. One time you saw him crouched down helping one of them tie her shoelace while listening to her rant about school drama with the most exhausted expression imaginable.
Another time you heard him outside their apartment saying, “If you two don’t stop fighting over slime, I’m throwing it off the balcony.”
You had to physically sit down afterward. Dominating mhm…Your own relationship was dying meanwhile. Not that it mattered anymore. Your boyfriend once complained because you liked older men in movies.
Little did he know you were now actively trying to seduce the giant dilf down the hallway. At first your attempts were subtle. Like smiling longer and holding eye contact.
Wearing tiny shorts during “accidental” hallway encounters. Nothing really worked. Why do all the “off limit” things in life take so much effort?
Suguru just nodded politely every single time like a normal civilized human being while you internally combusted. What a gentleman…rubbish.
Which led to your current situation.
Desperation.
And noise complaints.
The first time he knocked on your door, you nearly passed out from excitement. You opened it immediately and there he stood looking unfairly good in a black compression shirt and gray sweatpants.
Honestly you deserved compensation for this.
“Hey,” he said politely. “Sorry to bother you.”
God even his manners were hot. You leaned against the doorway casually even though your knees almost gave out. “What’s up?”
He glanced toward the loud music blasting from your apartment. “I was wondering if you could turn it down a little.”
“Oh.” You blinked innocently. “Is it loud?” His eye twitched slightly. “My daughters are trying to study.”
Right.
The daughters. You smiled sweetly. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. Thanks.”
Then he left.
And naturally, the next day you turned the music back on. Only louder this time. Oh dear Suguru, you got no idea about what’s in store for you.
The second time he came by, he looked more tired. Third time, visibly irritated. By the fourth day, you had become a genuine menace.
You were dragging furniture for absolutely no reason. Drilling random holes into a wall. Playing music so loud your own floor vibrated. And then came the knock.
No.
The bang actually!
Oh.
You swung the door open and there stood Suguru looking genuinely annoyed for the first time since you met him. His midnight hair looked messier than usual like he had been running his hands through it repeatedly. Glasses sat low on his nose and his jaw looked tight with irritation.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “I know what you’re trying to do.” You blinked up at him innocently. “What?”
“We’ve had this conversation four times now.”
“Maybe I just really like music.”
“At 2 AM? NOT to mention that this loud?”
“Some artists are best appreciated at night.”
His eyes narrowed. My my…he looked hot irritated. “I don’t want to file a complaint with the landlord,” he said carefully, “but you need to turn the damn music down.”
Oh.
There it was.
Attitude! Yummy.
You looked him up and down slowly.
“Or what, daddy?”
Silence.
Utter complete silence. You saw his entire face and body freeze. You watched his eyes widen just slightly behind his glasses.
“What did you say?”
Your confidence almost abandoned your body immediately but absolutely not externally. You crossed your arms anyway.
“I said,” you repeated slowly, “or what, daddy?”
The word hit him like psychic damage. You could feel his anger radiating off from his sexy body. And for the first time since meeting him, Suguru looked directly into your eyes.
One long stare that made your stomach drop straight to hell. “Oh,” he said finally, voice lower now. “You’re one of those.”
You blinked. “One of what?”
“A fucking problem!”
Got this idea while reading this fic by @eraserbread 💚
cw: smut, crack, Naoya is... Naoya. Hes beefy as hell #NEEDDAT, mentions of eating/tasting cum, headlocks, choking, doggy, mentions of blowjobs, hes cocky and meanish, naoya secretly likes getting his butt touched...
Your boyfriend has been getting… bigger.
In the hunky beefy toe curling muscular way.
Not that he was scrawny before, but his waist was nonexistent and he had the body of a lean god.
You noticed it after waking up one morning and having a heavy ass arm across your chest. And the owner of it getting his beauty sleep right besides you, looking pretty as ever.
You noticed when the shirts he wore seemed to get tighter or when he would stretch it would show more of his stomach and that inviting happy trail than usual.
You noticed when he ate almost everything in sight, when you'd have dinner together he'd always finish before you and then try to reach over to grab your plate. Greedy bastard.
Bulking!Naoya who would tease you when he'd catch you staring at his biceps.
"Stop ogling me. Am i some sort of piece of meat for you to drool over? Tch. Pitiful." He'd scoff, rolling his eyes.
But that cocky bastard would lift up his arm to 'fix' his hair, making sure to flex the large muscle right in your face.
Bulking!Naoya who made good use of his bulky arms. You were trying to poke fun at him but Naoya knew a way to silence you.
Your laughter quieted down as a thickk strong bicep curled around the front of your throat, forcing you to step back against his chest. Mind you, his pecs were soft as pillows now. The back of your head hit the cushiony muscles and his arm wrapped around your fully.
"That shut you up real fast. "
You tried to look up at him, but all you could see was a grinning Naoya with a glint in his eyes, suddenly tightening the hold around your neck. The way you sputtered for air made him chuckle- warm, beefy muscle squished your cheeks up, the pressure was… actually really nice, it wasn't like he was trying to kill you or something, but the sensation of having your throat squeezed and head forced back was pleasurable.
"What's wrong? Can't talk anymore?"
He leaned down, lips almost against your ear. "Good."
Your hands came up to pull at his arm once you started to run out of oxygen. Or maybe it was because a tingling sensation was blooming right between your legs.
Bulking!Naoya who let go, but played it off as a joke. "Watch your tone next time, brat. Or I'll make sure you turn blue." He waved a hand around and pretended to straighten his lightly rumpled shirt… blaming you in his mind for even having to fix it.
Speaking about hands…
Bulking!Naoya who you asked to compare hands with.
"What? You hold my hand too much already, why do you want to compare them?" He sounded annoyed but his fingers flexed in anticipation.
His fingers looked thicker… his hand engulfed your now. Oh… Well.. you had noticed you were on the brink of cumming on his palm any time he fingered you recently. Might explain that too.
"I bet your hand is smaller than my face." You blurted out, snorting and quickly pulling your arm back.
"You think?"
Bulking!Naoya who was competitive no matter what it was. So in an instant a large shadow was cast over your face and fingers were digging into the fat of your cheeks, covering your forehead and a calloused palm was over your mouth.
He lightly shook your head around, a smirk tugging on Naoya's lips.
"You thought wrong."
He pulled his fingers away from the sides of your face, but grabbed your jaw instead, those sharp eyes watching your lips form a pretty pout.
A thumb swiped across your bottom lip, teasing you enough for you to start parting your lips- when you thought he was about to let you suck on it, he let go.
And then he'd let go and walk off like he hadn't just manhandled your mug.
Bulking!Naoya who you shamelessly groped, besides his ass because he seemed sensitive about that. Getting to grab all over, to feel up the abs and his sides and ugh you mushed your face between his pecs, trying to smother yourself.
Naoya just stood, looking uninterested as you had your fun.
Bulking!Naoya who's tits and arms weren't the only body parts that had gotten juicer.
His thighs and ass.
Listen, a fine piece of ass is a fine piece of ass.
Bulking!Naoya who was minding his business, reading something on his phone while standing in the middle of the kitchen, scratching his chest trough his t shirt. And you, who sneaked up behind him.
who let out a whiny moan after you poked his left ass cheek.
The kitchen went silent. He froze up, not turning his head.
"…Naoya?"
"Not a word."
You could see a pink flush creeping up his neck and to his ears.
But he still had his back turned to you, assuming you'd leave him alone after the incident- but you just had to.
SMACK!
Your palm landed flat on the meaty thing, making sure to grab a handful trough his sweatpants and then attempting to run away.
It was worth getting your ass beat. (literally get bent over the nearest surface and Naoya doing what you did ten times as hard to your poor booty just to get back at you)
Bulking!Naoya who's cum was thicker now for some reason. Must be all the protein and sugar he's consuming. You noticed it after he had pulled out at the last moment during a mating press and splurted cum all over you, as if he was trying to paint you in it. It got all over you chest and tummy and even shot across your face.
Obviously he made you use your fingers and mouth to clean it all up. He wasn't going to touch his own release.
It was way hotter and thicker for sure, even tasted better.
You tried to convince Naoya to kiss you to taste himself but he turned his nose up, crossed his arms over his chest… only emphasizing his bulky build even more… and telling you he isn't some animal.
Sex? Oh sex was great.
Who knew him working out so much and gaining mass would raise his libido trough the roof.
Bulking!Naoya who would come back home after going for a run or lifting weights and wanted you to suck him off IMMEDIATELY.
"Knees, now. Hurry up."
Who were you to deny such a demand?
Bulking!Naoya who liked to bend you over and grab onto your hips and make sure you felt how easily he held you in place while pounding into you.
yes POUNDING.
His thrusts grew only heavier and meaner, using his strength to go for longer than ever before. You couldn't even moan probably because the air was being punched out of your throat, eyes rolling back and back bending from the sheer force.
You were surprised he hadn't flung you off of the bed by now.
Not to mention Naoya basically covered you entirely while leaning over you, and if he pulled you up by the hair, wrapping a rough hand around your throat and into the underside of your jaw, forcing you to sit up while he fucked up into you? It was useless to try and squirm away.
Bulking!Naoya who was just a big, cuddly teddy bear at the end of the day. You tried to snuggle with him, but you always ended up being engulfed entirely, trapped against his chest and surrounded by thick arms. He only let you go if you started to whimper about being too hot.
Or maybe he shoved a thick finger in your whiny mouth and slept peacefully.
Yoon's notes: so sorry my first thing back is NAOYA LOL but i saw this art and i just..i...i had to..
In which, TrueFormSukuna! is a munch.
cw: Fem!reader, SMUTTT, eating out p, 69ish, blowjob, squirt, two pee pee, softish Suku, nooot proofreaadd...
requested: Eater Sukuna whos REALLY into it pls🙏🙏🙏
Being lord Sukuna’s wife was no easy task.
Sure, you got to lounge around his palace, eat fruits and wear silks that most common folk didn’t know existed. The servants bowed their heads when they saw you wandering around the halls, left you alone when you’d go out to the gardens.
And you were doing exactly that, bent over while smelling some lovely flowers. Sukuna, being the large and monstrous man he was, liked cultural things, like haikus. So, he had nothing against the hundreds of blooms around the well-kept garden.
Back to the hardships.
He often went out to go massacre or wreck some village, he said he got bored and needed to train. Who were you to not let your husband indulge in his hobbies?
But when he got back home… his warm, large hands found you. Many of them. Your waist, holding your face, tummy, his beefy body engulfing you into a hug from behind. His hot chest against your back, pulling you up from the bent position to lay against Sukuna standing up. You could feel his stupid belly mouth try to gnaw on your dress already.
You just giggle, squirming and trying to look up at him, the flower forgotten. “You’re back already! You never announce your return-” a few, thick fingers got shoved inside of your mouth, holding your tongue down. The taste of them and the hint of iron making you cringe a bit.
“And you never pay attention, woman. If you can’t even hear me approach, then I might just keep you locked away in the chambers, for safe keeping. Who else might you let this close to you, hm?” His voice was low, red and amused irises meeting your slightly irritated ones.
You tried to sound something out around the digits but he kept them pressed down, a grin slowly creeping up on his face.
You gave up… letting Sukuna hold you for a moment.
CHOMP!
You bit down on the fingers.
He just grunted, not affected by the bite at all. “I come see my wife after being out all day… and all she does is bite me.” The belly maw licked a wet stripe across the fabric covering your back. Seemed like it was hungry.
He did let go, patting your ass. “I’m hungry.” Sukuna announced, the upper pair of arms crossing. The veins throbbing- your eyes locking in on the meaty things. Your mouth wasn’t the only thing watering.
“I said, I’m hungry, woman. Stop ogling me.”
“Huh- oh! I’m sure Uraume has prepared something.” Your eyes snapped up to his face.
“I don’t mean that.”
“Huh?”
Now this was the hard part. He came back home, pumped up from the kills and was trying to tell you he needed you. But could never word it right. Those haikus sure didn’t help.
“I want to eat you.”
“S..slow down! Hic…h..haah… Sukuuuu!”
You had finally caught on, he had taken your hand and lead you back inside, to your shared chamber, of course. He was such a gentleman- until the door closed and your dress was ripped in half, tits spilled out and a warm hand cupping your cunt, fingers knowing how to rub and prod a bit till he could smell the juices dripping down.
He knew how to season his food perfectly.
Didn’t even have to do it yourself, you were pulled and sat on top of his abdomen, the tummy maw being the first to want a taste.
Its fat, wet tongue licked between your puffy pussy lips, flattening and curling riiight where it knew you’d arch your back.
Two of his hands were holding your hips, keeping your still while the second mouth worked on you.
The other two arms were tucked behind his back, showing off the muscle.
And Sukuna gladly watched you writhe and try to roll your hips on top of him.
“Do you not like it, petal? You don’t tase as sweet as usual.” He idly commented, all eyes able to focus both on your jiggling chest and the sight of his second mouth trying to eat you out at the same time.
“N..no…s..s’good…” You shook your head, your own hands using his forearms as balance.
“No, I don’t think it is.” He hoisted you off of his stomach, draggggiing you all the way up to his actual face. A sharp grin underneath you. “Maybe you’ll taste better like this.”
You gasped, he had flipped you around, bending you over in front of him, your face mushed against his bulge, he himself hadn’t gotten undressed, only focusing on getting his mouth..s on your pussy.
You let out a pleased moan once you felt his tongue, though not as large as the belly one, lapping up the slobbery messy between your legs. The sound that left Sukuna’s throat sounded happy.
You buried your face deeper, breathlessly gasping and panting against one of two veryyy obvious cock prints. You could see some damp spots already forming from leaking precum. How could you not help your dear husband?
Sukuna’s hands found your ass, and the other two found your hips. Spreading you wide open, slurping allll the way down to your clit and then back, stuffing the wet muscle deep inside. You couldn’t see but he had a wide smile on his wet face.
You, trying not to go dumb from how good he was eating you out, managed to push down at his harem pants, revealing a welcoming, trimmed pink haired pelvic zone, it being like a pink (red) carpet to the prize.
Two, heavy. Like really heavy, mean looking cocks met your gaze. You let out a whimper when he nipped on your sensitive bud, maybe as punishment. But he didn’t stop you, too busy groaning against your pussylips.
The groans he made only got heavier once you grabbed one of the delicious looking things, licking at the tip and suckling it. His familiar taste filling your mouth.
Now both of you were busy.
Sukuna, happily acting like some starved man, aggressively pulling you back on to his face, that strong nose bumping in some lovely spots. “My petal tastes so good… i should take you with me everywhere I go, in case I need a taste...” he spoke to your cunt, a louder moan finally escaping his throat once he felt you start giving attention to both of the cocks. The sloppy sounds of both you and him slurrrping filled the large room.
You were blissed out, not even hearing his ramblings as you kept your mouth stuffed, hands finding the one that wasn’t in your mouth to jerk off, having to use both to keep it upright, jaw already growing tired form having to keep it so wide open.
You choked around the girthy one on your tongue, a whiny sound leaving your throat and your hips started to twitch and flinch. A good sign.
Your eyes rolled back, trying to drop your head lower when you felt a few fingers slide inside, spreading you wiiiide open, just to let his tongue dive in deeper than before, making sure to get every nook and cranny of your drooly cunt. The pathetic sounds you made around him make him chuckle. You let out a cry- tears beading in the corners of your eyes and drool running down your chin, dripping down.
He wasn’t chuckling when all of his efforts squirted back on to his face though. And he wasn’t chuckling when you didn’t properly finish him off, but he could think of a way to make up for it some other time.
After he carried your limp body to the hot baths and got you and his handsome mug washed up, ordering Uraume to get some non-wet-from-sex silk sheets, you both were cuddled up together. Cuddle is a light word to use, more like Sukuna was bear hugging you, having your head tucked under his chin, face smushed into his juicy chest, all four arms wrapped around your body. No wiggle room. None at all.
But you weren’t mad, Sukuna was cute when he got clingy.
“I love you.” You murmured against his skin.
“Shut up, woman.”
Yoon's notes: idk if i like the banner, i tried to make one :(
I hope the person who requested this likes it <3
art: kcocaine_ on twitter, fixparty_art on ig, idk who made the freaky one </3
you hate when gojo calls you cute, so he decides to take the compliment a little lower instead
warnings. dirty talk, fingering, cunnilingus, teasing/attitude, praise, pet names, established relationship, Gojo ignores you and talks to your kitty meow meow instead, the silliest premise ever just walk with me okay. nsfw 18+ mdni.
✎ Words: 1.6k | Ao3 | Masterlist
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You were a sight for sore eyes - splayed over the fresh sheets you’d just tugged on, shirt shoved up just enough to expose the soft curve of your belly, rising and falling with each fevered pant. Your face burning hot, buried beneath the crook of your arm where you’d tossed it over to hide your broken expression.
Then of course there was the way your needy cunt was sucking in your boyfriend’s fingers, clenching around the length of thick digits like you were made just to take them.
He’d been working you up slow and sweet, your orgasm blooming hotly in your lower stomach like the winding pressure of a coil. Your eyes - low lidded and glossed over with pleasure - tracked the steady motion of his wrist as it dipped between your thighs, locked in a desirous trance so consuming that when he slipped out, you actually growled a little at the sudden emptiness.
Gojo chuckled, petting teasingly at your entrance. He smeared the little beads of slick there with the pads of his fingers, admiring the sight of you soaked and spread open for a few indulgent moments before they finally dipped back inside.
“Cute,” he praised, and even blind you would have known that he was smiling, you could hear the way it curled the vowels - quirked in that taunting little way of his.
You felt a little pang of irritation through the haze of desire at his choice of words, incessant and grating like a tiny grain of sand. Your boyfriend was generous with praise, and typically you enjoyed it no matter his choice of descriptors - ‘beautiful’, ‘gorgeous’, hell, even ‘hot’ had its perks. But ‘cute’? Now that was just demeaning.
“Don’t call me cute,” you grunted, fighting the urge to let your eyes roll skyward with each precise curl of his fingers, “Hn-… especially not like this.”
Gojo frowned, plump lower lip pushed into a pout.
“Why not? You are cute.”
Before you could bite back with some sarcastic retort of your own, his palm pressed flat and you jolted with the sudden contact, jaw slack as he began to rub slow circles over your clit in time with the curl of his fingers. You choked on your next breath - the resulting sound was nothing more than a high, staggered gasp.
Your hand shot from its previous position clutching the sheets to instead grasp at his forearm. He gazed down at you through half-lidded eyes, arctic blue melted into something soft and sweet as he watched your lashes flutter, watched you squirm, smiling all the while.
“See?” He persisted, rhythm slowing slightly just to let you feel the controlled jump of muscle in his toned forearm beneath your trembling grip, “Cute.”
His touch was lethal - petting that sweet little spot so deep that it made your vision wobble and your toes curl where they were planted atop the mattress.
“Such a j-huh-jerk…” you managed, fingers digging tightly into his wrist like it was a lifeline.
Your thighs were beginning to tremble, twitching either side of his forearm as he expertly worked you open. Each curl, each pump accented by a slick squelch that had your face and the tips of your ears burning.
“Well that's not very nice,“ he huffed, though the obscene massage of his fingers didn’t cease or slow an inch, “here I am trying to give you a compliment, and you insult me. For shame, princess.”
“Look,” he continued, slipping his fingers from you just far enough to let you watch the way your slick soaked the length of them, pearly strings lacing you together. “And I’m treating this needy little pussy of yours so nicely, too.”
He tutted, muffling your own strangled sound as he slid back inside with a slick ‘plap!‘, and resumed the steady pace, the broad flat of his palm kissing your sticky clit with each pump.
“At least she appreciates me, isn’t that right?” He murmured, pout still painted thickly through his tone.
You rolled your eyes, lips parted to scold him for daring to bring up another women while he was wrist deep inside you. But when you tilted your head to meet his gaze, you found that his own eyes were down turned - locked on the slick space between your thighs where his fingers were disappearing instead.
Your brows twitched, knitted together in a heady cocktail of confusion, annoyance, and red hot desire. Was he really?…
“Satoru-“
His spare hand lifted to cut you off, finger wagging teasingly, which did nothing to settle the irritation flaring in your chest.
“Ah-ah-ah,” he tutted with a lazy shake of his head, “shhh, can’t you see I’m having a conversation here?”
You must have clenched, must have tightened around him without thinking, because his grin only spread that much wider. Pearly whites glinting as he bent at the waist - craning his head lower and lower until he was hovering between your thighs, eye level now with your pussy.
“That’s it sweet girl, nearly there,” he cooed sweetly, so close that you could feel the cool puff of his breath with each word, sending a prickle of goosebumps over your slippery thighs.
Was he really ignoring you to sweet talk your goddamn pussy instead?
You groaned - a noise which you intended to be one of disapproval, though with the pleasure burning hotly in your belly, the sound that actually escaped was decidedly more desperate.
“That’s it, keep squeezin’ me. Yeah, just like that, you got it.”
He shifted then, changing the angle ever so slightly, and the resulting effect was a vulgar sucking noise - a ‘shlick!’ ‘shlick!’ ‘shlick!’ that filled the air with each drag of his digits against your clenching walls. Just when you thought you couldn’t get any more mortified, you heard him chuckle, the sound thick and honeyed against your burning ears.
“No need to be so loud, baby. I know, I know, just feels so good huh?”
You’d have been more upset at the blatant disrespect, the embarrassment coursing like lava through you - if it didn’t have the desirous ache in your core burning ever hotter with each new syllable slipped from his traitorous lips. If he didn’t have you teetering on the edge of what was shaping up to be an earth-shattering orgasm just from his deft fingers and a little ignorance.
The incessant motion of his wrist alongside the outrageous fact that he was actually whispering sweet nothings to the space between your thighs, had you throbbing, nudging your hips up to chase the friction of his touch.
“Satoru, stop it,” you hissed with no real bite. Your grip on his wrist loosened, fingers slipping as the waves of pleasure lapping at your belly crested ever higher.
He paid you no mind - azure eyes still lowered, still murmuring a string of filthy praise to your drooling pussy like you weren’t even there. His velvety voice lowered to a sinful purr, a whisper - as if you were nothing but an outsider eavesdropping on a private conversation.
“What’s that? You want a kiss?” Came his sudden vocalisation, voice lifted in mock surprise, and the bastard actually leaned in to listen as if he was going to hear anything but the obscene sound of his fingers splitting you open.
You swallowed hard, then bit your lip as you watched him move, skin pressed between your teeth so hard you thought you might draw blood. His expression was soft, pupils blown wide and dark behind pale lashes as they traced the shape of your swollen folds. He craned his head downward, breath blowing cool over your tender skin, and you could barely hear the next words he spoke over the sound of your own pulse pounding hotly in your ears.
“Think I can manage that,” he murmured lowly, tongue darting out in a tease of pink to wet his lips, “better not tell my girl though, ‘kay?”
You watched his eyes flutter as he closed the space between you, and your own rolled to the back of your skull when the wet heat of his mouth finally hit you.
“Oh god, Satoru!-”
The burst of sensation stripped the words from you. He pressed his lips flat in a seal over your mound, and immediately began to suckle. Tongue swirling like he was trying to nurse straight from your goddamn clit, fingers still prodding that silky little spot inside.
You choked on your next breath as you tumbled over the edge, orgasm hitting you like a crack of lightening. You could feel yourself clamping around him, pulsing with each throb of pleasure as he worked you through it. His fingers curling, jaw diligently rolling in steady little circles until your writhing ceased, and you stopped twitching beneath his tongue.
“You’re ridiculous,” you panted when you’d finally recovered enough to remember how to actually form words, glaring down at him like your gaze could actually hope to kill, or at-least injure. “Aren’t you even a little embarrassed?”
He met your fire with an even coolness, offering you a sparkling smile as he lifted his head and licked his lips pointedly, spare hand pressed to his chest in mock offense.
“You wound me, princess,” he grinned, flashing you with a wink positively dripping in Gojo-branded charm, to which you simply rolled your eyes.
“Anyway, you might not have approved,” he drawled, hand teasing down your thigh where your own slick, and now his spit, were smeared, “but she loved it.”
With his hand planted firmly in the sheets, he lifted himself to his knees. It was then that you realized just how much your little performance had affected him. You took in the sight - soft grey sweats tented and dampened at the center in a slick little patch where he’d rutted against the fabric.
His eyes were dark when they met yours again, half-lidded and hungry as he lowered himself to grind against you, tight and hot - letting you feel every thick inch, pressed to your twitching thigh like a promise.
“C’mon now,” he murmured, voice gravelled like tattered velvet, “her and I have lots more to talk about.”
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oooohhhhh it’s been so long since I wrote gojo, how r we feeling gojo nation? 😛🤭 wrote this while rotting in bed sick so pls ignore any mistakes <3
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