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⋆ ABOUT⋆
— i write and reblog dark content involving dubcon, noncon, fauxcest, stepcest and other kinds of toxic/ unhealthy behaviour, so if that’s not your jam please leave for your own sake!
— currently writing for: jujutsu kaisen, love & deepspace
— DNI: if you’re a minor, zionist, homophobic, racist, transphobic etc!
You get high with your step-brother and things really spiral out of control.
pairing: geto suguru x reader
wc: 1.5k
contents/warnings: dark fic, 18+, step-cest, alcohol use, drug use, intoxication, noncon, non-consensual somnophilia (kind of), reader passes out, non-consensual cunnilingus, geto suguru is a bad guy, dead dove: do not eat
notes: i've been working on a full on fic for this concept but i haven't written a full fic on years so i'm just gonna upload the little snippets that are finished ig!!
credits: dividers by @/dividers-are-us
“So how come you don’t hook up with people?” Suguru asks while taking the joint from between your fingers.
You’re already a little high and still quite drunk. The two of you had just gotten back from Gojo's party when you decided to smoke a little weed. You don’t quite know how you got to this topic of conversation, how this turned into talking to your step-brother about your sex life. Or your lack of one.
“I dunno,” you start, hazy eyes fixated on the way he puts the joint between his plush lips—the one that was just between you lips— to take a deep drag. Once again you’re hit by how beautiful he is with his soft black hair, gentle amethyst eyes and perfectly sculptured face. You almost lose your track of thought, but at his waiting expression you continue, “I’m weird with sex.”
It’s a simple statement, one that doesn’t actually explain anything at all. But your marijuana riddled brain cannot come up with a better explanation.
“Weird?” He asks, mouth pulled up into an amused grin that would no doubt make you flush with embarrassment if you weren’t high.
“I just…can't, like, relax. I get so in my head over everything and then when it happens I don't really feel anything. Like, I get so overwhelmed by doing the right thing or saying the right thing. I need…”you trail off—the weed and alcohol really starting to hit you hard.
Suguru cocks his head, fox-like eyes glinting with interest and satisfaction at having his assumptions confirmed. Gentle fingers brush a strand of hair from your face and a content hum escapes your pretty throat before he asks, "What do you need?”
“I think I need someone to decide things for me, y'know?" You're mumbling, not even really registering what you're saying anymore. With glossy, unfocused eyes you mutter:"To do what they want…not let me have a choice."
He stills for a second at your response, before asking,“Is that so?”
“Hm,” you hum, not noticing the dark edge in his voice, and nuzzle further into his lap, heavy eyelids closing and your breathing evening out.
Suguru wonders if you can feel his erection, if you can feel the throbbing of much he wants you. His fingers wander down your throat, a feather-light touch and your breath hitches. The strap of you skimpy tank top has slipped down your shoulder and when you nuzzle even closer, cheek pressing against his boner, Suguru's self control snaps.
The movement is way too quick for you to follow, but suddenly he's on top of you and your eyelashes flutter open, a little surprised noise escaping your throat.
“Anything I want, hm?” He coos in your ear, hitching your leg up to settle between your thighs. A crease forms between your brows.
"Wha-" But Suguru interrupts you by pressing his lips against yours. The kiss is a messy, sloppy thing. You’re too out of it to kiss him back properly—even if you wanted to, which you're not even sure you do—so he takes the chance to explore your mouth to his heart’s content. He licks into your mouth, practically exploring every crevice and grinds his bulge against your clothed core. When a whimper escapes your lips, he grins and rolls his hips harder against you.
Weakly your fingers dig into his arms, maybe you’re trying to get him off, maybe you're trying to hold on to something. He doesn't particularly care either way.
You're panting when his lips finally leave yours and there's a string of saliva connecting your lips.
You experience the next hours in flashes. One moment you're laying on your back, his head between your trembling thighs, white-hot pleasure building in your stomach. You're babbling incoherent nonsense while his talented mouth ruins you. His tongue assaults your clit, flicking it back and forth before sucking on it. He coos soft praises into your cunt when you start crying out, before he harshly grips your thighs and brings you to your peak. Your hips buck up, desperate to pull away from his administrations, but he doesn't let you. Tears drip down your cheek and your thighs tighten around his head before you're engulfed by darkness.
Your skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, clothes long gone, and your cunt is dripping slick down your ass. Your thighs are pressed to your chest, feet dangling over broad shoulders. Something hot and heavy is pressed between your folds, gliding from your entrance up to your twitchy, sensitive clit. You're moaning, back arching of the bed when something grabs your jaw. Slender fingers dig into the skin and your eyes blink open. It takes a while for your view to focus and your breath hitches when you look into Suguru's dark, hungry eyes.
"Open," he purrs.
When you do, he spits a heavy glob of saliva into your wanting mouth. As soon as it hits your tongue you moan. Your eyes flutter closed, and you swallow without being asked. It's then that the thick head of his cock catches on your entrance and he pauses. You hold your breath in anticipation. His grip on your jaw loosens, fingers gliding down to your throat before circling his fingers around it. It's not tight enough to cut off circulation, it's just there. Your inebriated, lust riddled brain doesn't flash a red warning sign, instead the threat makes you tremble.
You shriek when he starts pressing his cock into your too tight hole. It hurts in a way that makes you freeze, body coiled tight with tension. Suguru groans when you clench around his tip, your hot cunt restricting around him in desperation to push him back out. His fingers squeeze your throat once.
"Let me in," he groans between gritted teeth, pushing further into your heat. The pain is brutal, his cock to long and thick even though you're dripping wet. You whine, squirming beneath him, trying to wriggle away from the sting but Sugurus hold on your waist tightens. He stills and presses his forehead against yours.
"You gotta relax, baby," he murmurs and presses a soft kiss to your lips, "can you do that for your big brother?"
It's shameful, really, how your cunt clenches around him at the title. You whine, nodding before you hide your face in the pillow. The hand on your hip slides to your core. His thumb finds your clit, and you gasp at the touch. He circles around it gently, nose nudging at your jaw. Willing, you turn your head and then his hot lips are on yours again, swallowing your pitchy moans and your cunt finally starts to give.
It's still a tight fit, your scorching, dripping walls attempting to stretch and stretch and stretch. There's still a feeling of discomfort, but with his thumb on your clit and his tongue in your mouth it morphs into something else. Pain and desire start intertwining, every new inch stretching you open is accompanied by a spark of pleasure. The feelings start to amplify each other.
When he's finally sheathed all the way inside, his tip plugged neatly against your cervix, you almost choke. Your thighs are trembling, your cunt clenching so tight around him like she never wants him to leave, like she wants to milk him dry. You've never felt this full before, it's like he's all the way in your throat. He's now forever carved inside of you, created this cavern only he can fill. Your breath comes out strangled and above you Suguru is groaning, gritting out profanities at your tight heat. For a couple seconds the two of you just try to breathe through the intensity of it all. It lulls you into a feeling of safety, like the hardest part is now over. But you couldn't have been more wrong.
You don't even have time to mourn the loss of his cock because he's already thrusting back inside of you, his hips slapping against the back of your thighs. There's nothing gentle about the way he's taking you apart. It's rough, animalistic, like he's lost all control. He's panting against your open mouth and the grip around your throat tightens. High pitched cries escape your dry throat, the noises almost drowned out by the sound of him plunging into you, by the noises of your sopping wet cunt.
When he starts angling his thrust upwards, to find that spongy spot inside of you, you start mewling. Your fingers find his neck, nails digging into the skin and your whole body spasms when he locates it, the pleasure so agonizing it feels like a punishment. It feels like an assault, the way he's attacking that that spot over and over while your cries grow louder.
The orgasm hits you like a freight train. It feels almost violent, your cunt threatening to cut off his dick with how hard she's clamping around him while your back arches off the bed. Tears are streaming down your cheeks and you're sobbing. Wet, little hiccups escape your bitten lips while you're shaking. Your step-brother stays inside of you, your walls constricting around him, while he whispers little praises into your ear and pressing soft kisses to your wet cheeks. Exhaustion starts settling into your aching limbs and before you know it you're enveloped by blackness once again.
“I think we've been past inappropriate for a while now," his lips trace the shell of your ear, "so we might as well go all the way, hm?
pairing: teacher!gojo x student!reader
wc: 1.9k
contents/warnings: teacher-student relationship, power imbalance, betrayal, underage drinking, vaginal fingering, non-consensual kissing, non-consensual groping/ touching, gojo is TERRIBLE, the reader is not of drinking age but it's up to your interpretation whether they're underage or not
notes: idk man send me to hell i guess?
credits: dividers by @/dividers-are-us
“You’re a lightweight,” Gojo teases, eyes sparkling in delight and you giggle. You’re pleasantly drunk, skin buzzing and just happy. The fizzy drink dulls the edge you've been experiencing all night, the edge you've been experiencing for weeks now. At the soft nudge against your champagne flute, you raise the glass and down the last of it’s content. Your eyes flicker to Gojo and his proud expression makes you beam, makes it easier to ignore the fleeting, judging glances around you. Not that those were a new development. The looks and hushed whispers have been following you for a while now.
A waiter passes you and Satoru expertly exchanges your empty glass for a new one. It’s your fifth—or sixth, you haven’t exactly been keeping track—drink while your mentor is still nursing his first. Not that you know, you’ve been assuming he’s been drinking with you.
“That's enough,” a stern voice suddenly cuts in and the glass is ripped from your fingers. Your lips turn into a dramatic pout and you look at the thief, already opening your lips to complain but when you realize who the culprit is, the edges of your mouth curl into a wide smile.
“Nanamin!” Your delighted exclamation turns a few heads into your direction. Kento bristles when you throw your arms around him and let out a content hum.
“You’re late to the party.” Your speech is slurred, dragging out the last vowel. Nanami’s hands find purchase on your shoulders and he looks at you.
You’re swaying slightly, looking at him with glossy eyes, flushed cheeks and a grin. It doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re drunk and under different circumstances this wouldn’t be that unusual. Students at Jujutsu High have always found their way to sneak in alcohol and other contraband. Nanami remembers all too well how Shoko, Geto and Gojo snuck in beers and got absolutely plastered just to suffer through the worst hangovers during missions. But this is different. You’re at a formal event and not even trying to hide your inebriation. Worse, your drinking buddy is your teacher.
“Tell me you haven’t been getting a student drunk,” Nanami snarls and glares at Gojo who puts on a shocked expression. It’s not unlike his expression back then, when the blonde used to reprimand him for smuggling in illegal contraband. If only this was as bad an offence as his previous behaviour.
“She's drunk?” Gojo turns to look at you and presses a hand against his chest, “You got something to tell me?”
You can’t help but giggle at his antics, stumbling as a result. Immediately Gojo’s arm slides around you and pulls your frame flush against his side. Nanami eyes the place where his hand rests possessively on your waist. Kento wants to say something, to tell him off for acting inappropriate. The white haired man has never been one for following rules. But still, this is different. You’re their student. They’re supposed to protect you.
Nanami had noticed Gojo’s behaviour around you before—he's not blind after all—but he just chalked it up to the man being annoying as usual. Or maybe he was just hoping that that's all it was. And while still deeply deeply inappropriate, it’d be another thing if Gojo was getting drunk with you. This is a whole different ballpark, one he doesn't know how to navigate.
When Kento’s eyes flicker back up to Gojo’s face, the man’s face wears a predatory smile, twinkling eyes daring the blonde to speak up.
“You’re drunk. I’ll take you home.” Nanami redirects his attention back to you. At his command you pout but Gojo is quick to interject.
“Ahh no worries, Nanami. I was planning on leaving anyway, you have a fun night.”
Nanami clenches his fist. Everyone in the faculty has seen Gojo stake his claim on you, but still he wanted to believe that it was nothing nefarious. Deluded himself into thinking it was nothing more than Gojo taking a vulnerable kid under his wing. Something he's done multiple times, none ever resulting in a situation like this.
So when Gojo winks at him and starts walking away with you, he simply watches with clenched fists. Just like during their high school days, Gojo gets away with whatever he wants.
—
The door closes and everything changes. Your body is pushed against it with a dull thud and a surprised gasp escapes your thorat. If it weren't for Gojo's grip on you, you'd have lost your balance. You look up at him, blinking a couple times to get at least a little used to the darkness, and when you do, you're once again struck by his beauty. His features are only illuminated by the soft light of the moon outside and yet his eyes are bright. He might be the most beautiful person you've ever seen.
Suddenly something presses against the spot between your thighs and your breath hitches, eyes fluttering closed for a second at the pleasurable feeling. It takes you a couple seconds to realize that Satoru has nudged his leg between them. The realization so puzzling it leaves you frozen. Then one hand grabs your waist, nails digging into your soft skin—undoubtedly leaving bruises in their wake—while the other one traces over your cheek. Your eyes blink open then to see that his face much closer to yours. He's leaning down and presses his forehead against yours.
“What are you…?” Your voice is low, breathless, and oh so confused. Gojo immediately shushes you and applies more pressure against your panty clad core. It’s all too much. He's everywhere. His scent—sandalwood and the faintest trace of iron—invades your senses and the growing pressure between your thighs, the alcohol thrumming through your veins furthermore add to the feeling of lightheadedness.
None of this makes any sense and you just need a second to think, to make sense of this situation.
Space. You need space, so you press your palms gently against his toned chest.
“Wait,” your voice is a mere whisper, still a slight slur to your words. You figure you must have been to quiet because feathery light kisses are pressed against your jaw. His lips, hot against your skin, elicit a shudder out of you.
“Sensei,” you stammer, louder this time, shaking your head like that would help you get sober.
In response, he nips at your jawline and you let out a surprised yip. You flinch and the movement causes your clit to drag against his thigh. It feels good, electricity sparking through your body and a choked out moan escapes your lips. You twist his shirt beneath your fingers as your breathing gets heavier.
"Shh, it's okay," he whispers against your ear and it'd be soothing if it weren't for his hands grabbing your hips and slowly dragging your clothed cunt up and down his toned thigh.
Your head thuds against the door as you let out a choked moan. It's dizzying, the pleasure accompanied by a feeling of cold dread, of the inherent inevitability of this.
Gojo's hand slips beneath the slit of your dress, surprisingly cold against your hot skin, and travels up your thigh, his slender fingers softly tracing over your soft skin.
"Th-This is inappropriate," you choke out, flinching pathetically when his fingers reach the edge of your panties.
It' childish to expect him to actually stop now, to believe that the concept of inappropriateness held any weight in his world. But your drunken brain clings to a shred of hope, like this is all a big misunderstanding.
“Inappropriate?” he muses with terrifying glint in his monstrous eyes—one that speeds up your heartbeat, fingers pressing against his toned chest. In retaliation, Gojo presses his knee harder against your cunt and you gasp. Fingers barely slip beneath the waistband.
“I think we've been past inappropriate for a while now," his lips trace the shell of your ear, "So we might as well go all the way, hm?"
“Fuck you,” you whisper but the words lack any heat.
He grins, the corners of his mouth lifting up like a Cheshire cat. White teeth flashing in the dark.
“I’m planning to."
His hands brush the curls on your cunt, before slipping down towards your slicked core. It's embarrassing, humiliating that your panties are not just damp—they're drenched. Tears pool on your waterline, dripping down your cheek when you attempt to blink them away and you feel heat spread from your chest to your face.
"Don't do this-"
"You know, this whole thing would be a lot more believable if you weren't fucking soaked," he muses, middle finger softly tracing your clit and you jerk, letting out a broken moan.
“Y-You can’t," you're panting, twitching every time he touches your clit while slick continues to pool in your panties.
“I can’t?” He's amused. Lips stretched into a grin that is so him it makes your heart ache.
When you give him a shaky nod, he simply lets out a coo and wipes your tears away.
“Who’s going to stop me?” He whispers into your ear and presses a gentle kiss beneath it.
You shudder, mouth opening to retort anything, but no words escape. Who is going to stop him? He’s the golden boy, the strongest. As much as some of the others dislike him, no one would dare to go up against him. No one would survive.
“Please. I don’t want this and you’re…,” your voice is shaky, and you pause to stop the sob that’s threatening to escape. “You’re a good person and I… I trust you. Please," you're mostly lying—how could he be good when he's doing this?—but despite it all, the latter argument still somehow rings true. And if he stopped right now, you would forgive him. You'd forget all about this, you just want him back.
Your desperate plea elicits a groan out of him and has him grip your hip even tighter. “It’s so hot when you beg,” he rasps.
You shake your head, choking down a sob when fingers grab your jaw and suddenly his lips are on yours.
It’s as much a kiss as it is an assault. The violence of it makes you gasp, and Gojo takes that chance to explore your mouth with his tongue. You don’t want to kiss him back, you think you’re not kissing him back, but you’re not sure. Everything is spinning, you’re so hot and his body is pressed so tight against yours. The kiss tastes like champagne and salty tears.
Suddenly, his finger breaches your tight hole and you moan into his hot mouth. It doesn't hurt as much as it should, you're so fucking wet that your cunt barely offers any resistance. And yet, you clench around him, trying to push him out, squeezing so tight around his finger that he can't help but let out a hiss.
Gojo leans his forehead against yours, a strand of saliva connecting your lips, while you pant into each other's mouth. Your cunt pulses around his fingers, wetness pooling down his hand.
“You know that you can’t stop me," he says, and his voice is serious for once, "so you might as well enjoy it."
You let out a wet sob when another finger breaches your sopping hole. Fight him, fight this. But even if you weren't inebriated, there'd be no way to escape him. Every move you ever learned to fight an aggressor off, was taught to you by Gojo.
Your body grows slack.
At this—your pliant, soft body beneath his fingertips and the tight, wet heat around his digits—the smile on his face returns, “Now be a good little student and give your favorite teacher a kiss.”
Suguru and Satoru love fucking with you. They've just never taken it quite this far.
or Suguru and Satoru get you high to fuck you.
pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru
wc: 3.7k
contents/warnings: dubious consent, drug use (weed), slight coercion, cunnilingus, reader is suguru's girlfriend, satoru has a crush on reader, they lokwey planned this beforehand, suguru is kind of terrible but it's okay because he's so sexy <3
notes: i truly think there's no universe in which you're dating gojo or geto without fucking the other one at least once
credits: dividers by @/dividers-are-us
It starts as an evening not different from many others. The evening sun illuminates the dorm room into a warm orange while some playlist put on by Geto plays in the background. You're seated between the two strongest, head leaned against the back of the couch—supplied charitably by Gojo's money—with your eyes closed. They're sharing the joint and talking about things you’re only halfheartedly listening to.
The three of you have done this many times, getting high in Suguru's and Satoru's dorm while shitty movies play in the background. It always inevitably ends with Suguru and you throwing Gojo out or scampering to your room to fuck like rabbits, much to Gojo's dismay. Though, almost any activity the three of you partake in ends in Suguru fucking you stupid.
It's almost a routine at this point, except you're already higher than you usually are. Or maybe it's just a different strain, you're not familiar with the details. You've always let the two of them figure it out. Why bother with it when they can just deal with it?
Right now your focus is on Suguru’s hand on your leg, on the way his fingers softly stroke the inside of your thigh and occasionally dip under the hem of your shorts. He's intimately aware of how horny you get when you’re high and he enjoys torturing you. Quite the sadist, he only fucks you when you’re reduced to a begging mess, tears glistening in your eyes, bruised mouth pleading “Fuck me, please. I need it please please please-”
“It's your turn, lightweight” Gojo laughs and you’re pulled back into the present. Your eyes open slowly and turn your head in his direction. Slender fingers offer you the joint whilst his bright blue eyes twinkle with something you can’t quite place. As usual, neither he nor Suguru seem that affected by the weed. Contrary to Satoru's statement you’re not actually a lightweight, but whenever you smoke with them, they manage to make you look like a fucking teenager trying weed for the first time. It’s ridiculous.
So you scrunch your face before shaking your head, you don't need to be even more out of it. Your expression makes Suguru chuckle and press a soft kiss against your temple. “Come on, baby, you can handle a bit more.”
You don't have to look at your boyfriend to see his stupid grin. His tone is condescending, a tone usually reserved to tell you “I know, baby. But you can take it.”
Fingertips ghost under the hem of your shorts again and your head spins. Just a bit higher. Please please please just a bit more.
His fingers disappear again.
Bastard.
Maybe you’d been nodding—or more likely, Gojo just did not care— because he places the lit joint between your lips. Fuck it, you decide and take a deep drag, exhaling when he removes the joint. Your cherry-colored lipstick stains the white filter, and the sight of him then placing it between his own lips suddenly feels weirdly obscene.
You let out a shaky breath; your mind is cloudy—and you like that, like the disconnect from your thoughts—but the weed and Suguru’s fingers on your leg border on too much. Your head falls back against the couch, your body is somehow loose and heavy at the same time. A sigh escapes your lips and you close your eyes again.
“What’s up baby?” Suguru asks, the faux concern in his voice makes you want to slap him. It also makes you want to fuck him more. That’s the struggle of dating him. You can never quite tell if you want to scratch his eyes out or if you want him to fuck you senseless (most of the time it's the latter).
Gojo says your name and places a hand on your knee. When you don't respond, his other hand grabs your chin and pulls your head in his direction. You’re met with a barely hidden grin while Suguru’s fingers dip under your shorts again, ghosting over the hem of your panties. You feel your face heat up even more —your body is always betraying you, there’s no pretending with him— and you clench your hands into fists.
“Hmm, you’re flushed,” Gojo states and strokes your cheek, his thumb brushing over the corner of your lips. It’s no wonder he’s Suguru’s best friend. He’s just as much of an asshole as your boyfriend and the way they enable each other is annoying. You hate them both, truly.
“’s hot,” you rasp out and Suguru laughs softly. Your head turns in his direction and your breath catches in your throat when you look at him, whatever insult you wanted to throw at him dies on your tongue. His amethyst eyes are dark and hungry. Your mouth is dry, you want him so bad, want his mouth, his teeth, his hands, anything. Why he hasn't already thrown out Satoru to tear you apart is beyond you.
“Maybe you need to take off some of your clothes,” the hand on your thigh moves upwards and his skilled fingers play with the hem of your crop top, “you’d be less warm.”
Heat flares in your stomach and your brows furrow in confusion. The lines between the three of them have always been…blurry. Gojo’s fingers tend to linger on your body, tend to gravitate towards you even when there’s no reason for him to be touching you. When the two of you are out alone, strangers often mistake you as a couple. Cooing how sweet your boyfriend is, how affectionate. And when you try to correct them, Satoru pinches your skin and thanks them with a shit eating grin.
Then there’s been a drunken kiss during truth or dare. A kiss so intense it left your lips swollen and bleeding. You’d never quite known how to deal with his overbearing presence. The kisses on your cheek, the arm thrown over your shoulder and pulling your hair like you're in preschool. And it's not that you didn't find him attractive, you're not blind, but there was still that pesky personality off his. The one that had problems accepting any boundaries and the word "no". So when you and Suguru officially started being a thing, you thought it’d put an end to Gojo's behavior. If not for your sake, then for his best friend's.
It didn’t. And Suguru never said anything. You never questioned him about it, just chalked it up to whatever weird fucking thing is going on between the two of them.
So you open your mouth to protest—you're not wearing anything underneath your top, which Suguru knows, and being topless in front of Gojo is all kinds of wrong—but it doesn't stop your boyfriend from pulling the top over your head while you're too sluggish to stop it.
He throws it away and entangles your hair from the many necklaces around your neck, and tucks it behind your ears. It’s a loving gesture, his thumb softly stroking your jaw, meant to soothe your nerves. And while your body sings every time he touches you, it doesn't quite work this time.
Gojo takes in a sharp breath and embarrassment flushes through you—you ignore how you feel your underwear dampening even more—and you want to cross your arms in front of your chest but Suguru anticipates your movement, grabbing your wrists and leveling you with a commanding stare. You test his grip once—only once because his darkening eyes are warning enough for you to become pliant—before letting your arms drop to your sides.
You're still not looking at Gojo, the humiliation of him seeing you like this is written all over your features. It turns him on how your roles are almost reversed. Usually, he goes too far and is greeted with your annoyance or even your absence when you're pissed off enough. Always on this high fucking horse, and now you're here—tits out, thighs clenched together and Suguru on his side for once.
While your mind is still clouded, your body is tense. The discomfort of the situation has an almost sobering effect. Suguru notices—of course—because the joint is pressed against your lips again, though this time you shake your head.
Geto's expression twitches in annoyance at your disobedient antics. Usually, you're the most pliant, the most behaved when you're inebriated but this time that unnecessary blanket of shame makes you difficult. While he doesn't take it personal, considering you just don't know any better, he finds it irritating of you to misbehave in front of an audience.
So he takes a deep drag of the joint and grabs your jaw. His long fingers dig into your cheeks, hard, effectively forcing you to open your mouth. Without pause, his lips are pressed against yours—pure muscle memory and desire coaxing you to open your mouth—pushing the smoke into your mouth. You let out a gasp when his tongue touches yours, the spark of electricity going through your body prompting you to forget all about your previous unease. The kiss quickly turns into a mess of spit, teeth and tongue. Suguru knows how to play you like a fiddle, just how he has to touch and kiss you to successfully empty your brain of any silly thoughts.
Your fingers grip his shirt, desperately pulling him closer. You want to mold yourself to him, to feel him all over you and Suguru adores you like this. All desperate and willing to let him do whatever he wants to you. He fondly hums into your mouth and his fingers move from your jaw to the nape of your neck, fasting your hair into a ponytail and pulling.
The action elicits a whine out of you. When Suguru pulls away—you chase after him, but the grip on your hair stops you—there's a line of spit connecting the two of you and Satoru wants to lap it up. You look thoroughly debauched, all heavy breathing, lips swollen and wet with spit. Last remnants of your lipstick are smudged around the corners of your bruised mouth, not quite helping your frazzled expression. Like an act of sympathy—and it's just that, an act—Geto lets go of your hair and leans back against the back of the couch. You mirror him since the weed makes it difficult to keep yourself upright. You feel yourself sinking into yourself, into the couch while this warm current flows through your veins. The previous feeling of anxiety dissipates in the air like smoke and you smile.
"I think you've been mean to our friend, baby," your boyfriend tsks while tucking a loose lock of hair behind your ear. "Just look at him."
It's then that you finally grace Satoru with your attention. There's a sizable tent in his boxers and he's practically panting like a dog. His eyes are glued to your tits, to your perked up nipples and he's just itching to touch you. He wants to tug at them, to put them in his mouth and suck on them until you sob. Ever since he got to hear the little whimpers and gasps you let out when he kissed you during truth or dare, he's been desperate to hear more.
Like he can read his mind, Suguru's thumb starts to lazily circle your left nipple. The contact, despite it being feathery light, closer to an almost touch than an actual one, makes you twitch and the sound that escapes you—a pathetic little cry—makes precum leak through Satoru's boxers.
“So mean,” agrees Gojo, his voice dropping multiple octaves. His pink tongue darts out to wet his plush lips but his eyes remain fixed to your chest, on Suguru's finger circling your pretty, puffy nipple.
Your skin is flushed, your panties are drenched and all you want is for your boyfriend to finally throw out the white haired menace so you can be folded in half and fucked til your cunt is sore. Want and shame have you feeling dizzy, so you nuzzle into his shoulder mumbling a desperate "Please". You're seconds away from climbing his lap and humping his leg like a dog in heat.
"Poor baby," Suguru smirks and kisses the top of your head, "Satoru, you should take her shorts off." He looks at his roommate, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t want my baby to overheat.”
You open your mouth to protest, but are cut off by Suguru shushing you.
"You trust me, right? You're so needy, I just want you to be taken care of."
Satoru resembles a dog, perking up and practically salivating. It’s no question he’s wanted to fuck you for a long time now. Technically, he wanted you first but it's Suguru you wanted. It's Suguru you gravitated towards. Which is no surprise, he's always had an easier time getting girls, and guys. Even in high school, people fell to his feet. And it wasn't like people weren't into Gojo, he just always ended up scaring them off. He is always a bit too much. He's too eager and his non-existent respect for personal boundaries is off-putting. So when he finally got offered the chance to kiss you as a dare, he'd leapt at it. Pulled you close and almost devoured you. He still jerks off to the memory of your whimpers, to the memory of your taste and the warmth of your mouth.
He gets on his knees in front of you and it's ridiculous how he's almost as tall as you this way. His large hands run up and down your thighs and you shiver despite the warmth of the room. Through your hooded eyes you gaze at him and you think he might have never been more beautiful than this. Cheeks flushed, the tips of his ears tinted red and pupils huge.
"Hips up, baby," he grins, still all confident despite his obvious arousal, and his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your shorts.
“Fuck,” he hisses when he sees your panties —lacy, green and completely soaked. Humiliation churns in your stomach and you want to press your thighs together, want to hide your arousal because they haven’t even done anything to you yet. But as soon as you try to, Suguru slaps your thigh, hard and a wince escapes your throat.
“You don’t need these,” Gojo decides and his fingers grab a hold of the waistband, urgently pulling down the ruined scrap of fabric. The world spins slower than usual and God, you’re so fucking wet it’s ridiculous.
Before you have any chance to observe his expression of seeing you completely bare, Suguru grabs your jaw and presses his lips onto yours. His mouth is warm and hard, his nails dig into your skin, making you whimper into his mouth. It’s so easy for him to coax open your lips, to rob you of oxygen and whatever shred of doubt might be left.
You’re panting when Suguru pulls away and he takes advantage of your dazed state by grabbing your left thigh and pulling it over his own. Like an offering, he exposes your gleaming cunt to his best friend.
You twitch for a second, your body overcome with the urge to snap your thighs together but you know better than to listen.
Gojo knows this. He doesn't even look at you, no, instead his eyes observe Suguru’s and whatever he sees in them is enough confirmation he needs. He leans forward, his face mere inches away from your core, and you hold your breath, unsure whether it's in anticipation or dread. Maybe it's neither. Maybe it's both.
He’s slow, careful, when he touches you, pulling open your lips like he’s inspecting you. And then his thumb grazes your clit oh so softly—the touch barely even there—but it’s enough to make you cry out and buck your hips. You feel like you might actually combust when you’re touched properly.
“Is my princess sensitive?”, Suguru coos, his grip on your thigh tight while he presses wet kisses against your neck.
“Fuck you both,” you groan and close your eyes. You can't bear to look at either of them. Somehow it’s both too much and not enough at all. you miss the glance Suguru and Gojo share, you boyfriend’s nod.
Suddenly there's a harsh slap on your cunt and you let out a surprised gasp. You body startles but Suguru’s large hand, splayed over you stomach, keeps you down.
“You wanna be good now, or do we have to do this the hard way?”, Suguru asks and while his voice remains soft and pleasant, you know better. He’s not afraid to hurt you, to make you sob and shatter you into tiny little pieces.
“I’m gonna be good,” you whisper and you cunt throbs.
Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your skull when Gojo finally puts his mouth onto your dripping core and the sound that escapes your throat is loud and desperate.
Gojo’s mouth is skilled and you’re too high to care about any of the cries that escape you. He laps gently at your folds, sucking on them before his tongue wanders up to your throbbing clit. He circles the bud as many times as he pleases, occasionally flicking it back and forth before sucking on it.
While Gojo assaults your cunt with his mouth, turning it nice and puffy, Suguru starts kneading your breasts. Pinching and pulling your hard nipples, soothing them with his tongue before biting them. His mouth attacks your neck, your tits and your collarbones, leaving bite marks and hickeys all over you. If you weren’t so far gone, you’d comment on that, like you always do. You’re acting like a fucking teenager.
It's embarrassing how easy it is for Gojo to get you towards the edge. How messy and desperate he's got you. You've soaked his face in your juices and a pool of arousal gathers on the couch. With every flick of his tongue, more of your slick gushes out. stopping when your hips buck up and your cries become louder. At one point, you thread your fingers into his hair, desperately trying to keep his talented mouth on your cunt so you can finally come, but he doesn’t care. Just grabs your wrists and pulls them away like it’s no effort at all.
“Oh, is something wrong?”, he coos and blows air on your sensitive little nub.
Your hips jut up, and you let out a breathy whine.
“Please,” you beg with trembling lips.
“I think you can do better than that.”
Suddenly there are two long fingers inside your tight core. You let out a high-pitched moan. The stretch hurts in the best possible way. Suguru adds to that painfully pleasant sensation by biting your neck harshly. You’re gasping, arching your back. Your core is throbbing, desperate for Gojo’s skilled fingers to start moving, but he doesn’t.
“Please, Toru. I- I need to come. Please,” you whine. Your hips want to grind down on his skilled fingers, but Suguru presses a hand on your stomach to keep you in place.
“I’m not convinced,” Satoru sing-songs. A mean grin takes over his face while he starts pressing soft kisses against your trembling thigh. His dick presses uncomfortably against his jeans, begging to be touched, but he thinks he might be okay with it forever remaining untouched if he got to keep seeing you like this.
“Fuck, please…I- I’ll let you do whatever you want, I don’t care, just let me come. Please.”
Your breath catches in your throat when Gojos fingers start to move. They’re stretching your cunt, moving in and out in a slow rhythm to get you used to it. When you’re used to the stretch, he adds a third finger. He starts moving them, changing his aim with every hit like he's looking for something. Every cruel thrust punches out a mewl put of you and makes your thighs twitch.
When he finally hits that sweet spongy spot inside of you, you spasm and your eyes roll into the back of your head. It's like an electric shock cursing through your body. You can't help but cry out, limbs twitching while your heart speeds up.
You miss the grin on his face before he starts to attack that spot with the tips of his fingers. A high pitched keen escapes your lips and he suckles on your clit, all while pumping his fingers fast and hard into your core. The noises your sticky cunt makes are so loud, the constant schlick, schlick, schlick almost as loud as your cries.
Gojo's pace is a brutal one, one that hurts as much as it makes your insides clench in pleasure. Your poor pussy is so overwhelmed, unsure whether she wants to suck Satoru's long fingers in or push them out. Slick gushes out of you, pooling into a small puddle under your ass and covering the entirety of Satoru's hand. Pleasure pulses through you and you feel the coil in your stomach tighten and tighten and you think you feel prepared for your orgasm. But suddenly a finger presses against your untouched rim, not entering just yet, but nudging against it and god, your slick adds just enough lubrication for his finger to slip inside, just a bit, and your vision goes white.
You come with a soundless cry, your body tensing up, cunt clenching oh so tight around his digits, digits he's still moving inside out of you, while liquid gushes out of you. It's so intense, your body completely overstimulated and it's only when you start sobbing, writhing around like you're in pain, that Satoru stops and slides his fingers out of you.
It appears you actually passed out for a hot second, because when you finally return to your body, Suguru is pressing soft kisses along your jaw, cooing how well you did. You're utterly spent, eyes remaining closed while you nuzzle into his neck.
Suguru notices your slowed down breathing, how sleep is tugging at you senses but that just won't do. So he grabs your jaw, the action waking you right back up, and smiles at you. A smile that reminds you of a predator.
"Oh, baby. You don't think we're finished with you, do you?”