ㅤ ࣪ 𐙚VIVI ｡˚ *. ⋆ she/they. early twenties. main blog.
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!Ryomen Sukuna; who falls in love with the concubine he hated the most
Every woman brought to his estate understood the rules of survival before they even crossed the threshold.
You bowed until your forehead touched the tatami. You spoke only when spoken to. You anticipated his moods, read the terrifying language of his four eyes, and offered flattery or tears depending on what type of amusement he was seeking that day.
To center your entire existence around Ryomen Sukuna was the only way to ensure your head remained attached to your shoulders.
Except you didn't.
You hadn't knelt when he first entered your quarters three months ago. You had been lying on your side, propped up on an elbow, reading a translated scroll from the northern provinces, and you had merely shifted your gaze to look at him, entirely unimpressed by the sudden, heavy drop in atmospheric pressure that usually accompanied his presence.
"Stand when I enter," he had commanded, his upper eyes narrowing into dangerous, ruby slits.
You had turned a page. "Then leave and enter again. Perhaps I will feel like it next time."
You hadn't scrambled to fix your posture. You had just looked at him with an expression of profound boredom.
The attendants behind him had turned white as ghosts, bracing for the inevitable spray of blood. Sukuna’s jaw had set, a terrifying, low growl vibrating from his chest. But you hadn't trembled.
If he wanted to kill you, he would kill you. Fawning over him wasn't going to change his nature, so you simply refused to waste the energy.
He hadn't killed you. Instead, he had left, the doors slamming shut with enough force to rattle the shoji screens.
And that was the exact moment the nightmare began. Because from that night onward, Sukuna became an insufferable, permanent fixture in your life.
"You are eating that wrong."
You stopped your chopsticks halfway to your mouth, letting out a long, slow exhale through your nose. It was midnight.
You had been looking forward to a quiet, solitary meal of cold rice and pickled plums, but Sukuna had simply materialized in the corner of your room ten minutes ago, dripping wet from a thunderstorm, and had proceeded to sit directly on the edge of your bedding.
"I am eating it the way I have eaten it for more than twenty years," you said, not looking at him. "If my technique offends you, the door is exactly where you left it."
Sukuna scoffed, leaning back on his palms. His massive, tattooed frame took up half the space in your small room, his lower arms crossed over his chest while his upper right hand casually reached over and swiped a plum straight from your bowl.
"You have a wretched attitude," he remarked, popping the fruit into his mouth and chewing lazily. "The women in the east hall weep with gratitude if I so much as glance toward their courtyard. You look at me like I am a stray dog that ruined your garden."
"Stray dogs are quieter," you muttered, finally looking up to glare at him. "And they don't steal my food."
Sukuna’s lower mouth twitched into a sharp, jagged grin. He loved it. The realization turned your stomach, a strange, dizzying mixture of irritation and heat.
He didn't come to your room because he wanted a concubine; he came because he was a creature driven entirely by conflict, and you were the only person in the entire empire who refused to give him the satisfaction of a fight. You gave him nothing. You gave him a wall of pure, unbothered apathy, and it was driving him entirely insane.
He leaned forward suddenly, crowding your space. The smell of the storm, ozone and rain, rushed over you. Before you could pull back, his large, calloused hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around your jaw.
It wasn't the brutal, bone-crushing grip he used on his enemies. It was controlled, a heavy, unyielding restraint that forced your face up toward his.
"You should fear me," he murmured, his upper eyes tracking the movement of your throat as you swallowed. His thumb thumbed the soft skin right beneath your lower lip, a deliberate, electric friction that made your toes curl inside your robes. "A single flick of my finger, and this pretty little throat splits wide open."
You met his gaze evenly, refusing to let the wild, frantic thudding of your heart show on your face. "Then do it. I'm tired of your bragging."
Sukuna froze. For a second, the silence in the room was deadly. Then, a loud, booming laugh tore from his throat, the sound rough and genuine as he released your jaw, shifting his weight until he was practically draped over your lap, his heavy head resting casually against your thigh.
"Insufferable," he muttered, closing all four of his eyes as if he owned the space. "Utterly insufferable."
You stared down at the King of Curses currently using your legs as a pillow, your hand hovering over his unruly pink hair, entirely tempted to shove him off. But you didn't. You just sighed, picking up your chopsticks again, ignoring the way his subconscious weight felt entirely too natural against you.
The shift happened. In Sukuna’s dictionary, words like love or devotion were meaningless concepts invented by the weak to justify their dependency. He would never admit to favoring you. If anyone asked, he would simply say you were a minor amusement, a dull distraction from his boredom.
But the rest of the estate wasn't blind.
The servants noticed that the rare silks brought from the western raids, the ones Sukuna usually threw into the treasury to rot—somehow kept finding their way into your wardrobe because he had casually grumbled that your current robes looked "like rags."
The guards noticed that if Sukuna left your courtyard irritated, he was significantly less likely to execute someone in the main hall.
And then there was the incident with the lord of the northern clans.
During a formal banquet, the lord had made a passing, disparaging remark about your status, calling you an "eccentric, useless mouth to feed" who didn't know her place.
You hadn't even heard the comment; you had been across the pavilion, systematically ignoring Sukuna’s attempts to make you try a cup of sake.
But Sukuna had heard it.
He hadn't made a scene. He had simply stood up, walked over to the lord’s table, and dismantled the man’s entire lineage within three seconds, leaving the pavilion drenched in red before sitting back down next to you, casually picking up his chopsticks as if nothing had happened.
"You're exhausting when you're angry," you had murmured, wiping a stray drop of blood from the sleeve of your robe with a click of your tongue.
Sukuna hadn't answered. He had just grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand toward him until you were forced to use your sleeve to wipe a smudge of gore from his cheek instead. He hadn't asked. He had just assumed your hands belonged on his skin.
Late one evening, weeks later, the heat of the summer had turned the air thick and oppressive. You were lying awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling, when the shoji screen slid open without a sound.
Sukuna stepped inside. He looked exhausted, the heavy marks of a curse battle still lingering in the tension of his shoulders. He didn't speak. He just shed his heavy outer robe, letting it hit the floor, before crawling directly onto your sleeping mat.
"Go away," you groaned, trying to roll over to the far edge. "It is too hot for this."
"Silence," he grunted, a large, heavy arm snaking around your waist from behind. He hauled you back against his chest with a single, effortless tug, his massive body completely enveloping yours.
His chest was blazing hot, a furnace of pure cursed energy, and his face buried itself directly into the crook of your neck.
"You cling too much," you muttered, though you didn't actually fight the hold. It was a useless endeavor anyway.
"What nonsense," Sukuna rumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his lower arms tightening around your hips, anchoring you so securely to him that you could feel the rhythmic, heavy thud of his heart against your spine. "You are small. You fit here. Stop complaining."
You lay there in the dark, his breath warm against your skin, his long, sharp fingernails absentmindedly tracing patterns into the fabric of your garment near your ribs.
He was completely unaware of how intimate the gesture was, how entirely possessive his body became the moment he was near you. He thought he was just resting. He thought he was just taking what was his.
You turned your head slightly, looking back at him. His eyes were closed, his expression unusually peaceful in the dim moonlight.
"You're an idiot, Ryomen Sukuna," you whispered softly.
A faint, arrogant smirk touched his lips, though he didn't open his eyes. His hand moved up, his fingers lacing through yours with a casual, unthinking pressure, locking your hands together against the bedding.
"And you are still breathing," he murmured into your skin, his grip tightening just a fraction more. "Be grateful I find your stupidity so entertaining."
You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his terrifying, inescapable warmth, finally accepting that while the King of Curses would never say the words, his actions had already rewritten the entire world around you.
The commuter train swayed gently, rhythmic and lulled by the low rumble of the tracks. Exhausted from the mission, your head finally slipped, dropping heavily against Satoru’s shoulder. Gojo froze for a split second, cutting off the joke he was mid-sentence through. Through the dark fabric of his blindfold, he looked down at you. A remarkably soft smile, completely stripped of his usual arrogance, tugged at his lips. "Already KO'd, Sweetie?" he whispered, his voice nothing more than a breath so he wouldn't wake you. With calculated slowness, he slid his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer against his massive chest. With his free hand, he activated Infinity around the two of you—just enough to muffle the noise of the train car and ensure that not a single bump on the tracks would disturb your sleep.
━━━ ✦夏油傑 SUGURU GETO ✦ ━━━━━━━━
The dim light of the temple was soothing, disturbed only by the faint crackle of burning candles. Sitting beside him on the tatami, exhaustion won, and your forehead found refuge against his shoulder, draped in his heavy priest robes. Suguru didn't flinch. He simply stopped writing on his scroll, his brush hovering in mid-air over the ink. He turned his head delicately, his long black hair brushing against your face. A nearly inaudible sigh, tinged with immense weariness but also an exclusive tenderness, escaped his lips. "You lower your guard far too easily..." he murmured, as his fingers came to gently stroke your temple. He repositioned himself to make you more comfortable, shrouding you halfway within the wide sleeve of his yukata. For the rest of the night, the outside world and its flaws ceased to exist; there was only the rhythm of your breathing against him, and Suguru silently swore to protect this sanctuary at all costs. "Sleep, my Beloved."
━━━ ✦ 七海建人 KENTO NANAMI ✦ ━━━━━━
The drive back in the company car took place in a cathartic silence. Your head rested against the window until a sharp turn made you tilt, your face burying into the stiff fabric of his tailored suit. Nanami glanced sideways. His shoulders instantly dropped, losing that rigid, military posture he maintained all day. Without a word, he gently slid off his wrapped glasses, his clear eyes fixing on your face, softened by sleep. With a fluid motion, he unbuttoned his suit jacket to offer you a more comfortable cushion, adjusting the car’s AC so you wouldn't get cold. "You work far too hard, Darling," he murmured, his voice deep, velvety, and almost hypnotic. He placed his hand over yours, which was resting on your lap, squeezing your fingers with a silent promise: as long as you were asleep against him, no harm could ever reach you.
━━━ ✦ 日車寛見 HIROMI HIGURUMA ✦ ━━━━━
The trial documents were piling up on the desk, but the atmosphere had softened. As you sat on the armrest of his chair, your eyelids grew too heavy, and you ended up letting your head fall onto his shoulder. Hiromi stopped turning the pages of his law book. He sat perfectly still, practically holding his breath, as if he were terrified that his slightest movement might break the moment. His tired eyes softened with a profound warmth when he saw your peaceful features. "Always here at the wrong time... or perhaps the best one," he murmured, a melancholic yet genuine smile touching his lips. He dropped his pen, abandoning his case files for the first time in his career without a single regret. He wrapped his arm around your waist to steady you against him, resting his cheek against your hair. "Rest, Love. The verdict can wait until tomorrow."
━━━ ✦ 脹相 CHOSO KAMO✦ ━━━━━━━━━━
You were sitting together on the worn-out couch of the hideout, silence enveloping the room. Without warning, your head slipped, nestling perfectly into the crook of his neck, your steady breath brushing against his skin. Choso’s eyes widened, his cursed womb heart skipping a beat. His big brother instincts immediately took over. He became as rigid as a statue, terrified of making a sudden movement that might cut your rest short. Then, realizing you were simply safe by his side, his muscles relaxed. His hand, so used to blood and death, rested with infinite lightness on your arm. "You trust me..." he noted, his voice strained with pure, emotional pride. He tilted his head, gently rubbing his nose against your hair. "Sleep well, Dove. I am right here. No one will touch a single hair on your head."
━━━ ✦ 伏黒甚爾 TOJI FUSHIGURO ✦ ━━━━━━
The bed barely squeaked. Toji was sitting against the headboard, casually counting a stack of cash from his bets, when you toppled over to the side, smashing your nose right against his massive, scarred shoulder. Toji paused, raising a brow. He looked down at you, a smirk half-amused, half-cynical crossing his face. You looked so small, so vulnerable pressed against a powerhouse capable of killing monsters with his bare hands. "You've really got no fear, do you?" he grunted in a low chuckle that vibrated through his chest beneath your temple. He tossed the money onto the nightstand without a care. His massive, heavy arm came around to encircle you, literally pinning you against his warm side as if claiming possession. His hand anchored itself on your back, his fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin through your clothes. "Stay right there, Ma. You're the only free thing I'm keeping for myself."
━━━ ✦ 禪院相哉 NAOYA ZEN'IN ✦ ━━━━━━━
While sitting in one of the traditional reception rooms of the Zen'in estate, you finally succumbed to the day's exhaustion, your head falling unceremoniously onto his right shoulder, crumpling the silk collar of his kimono. Naoya clicked his tongue, a feigned sigh of annoyance escaping his lips. "Ah... you really have no manners," he grumbled under his breath, turning his golden eyes toward you with a disdainful pout. Yet, he didn't push you away. On the contrary, his eyes scanned your sleeping face, and his expression softened into a strangely possessive, satisfied glow. It was gratifying, after all, to see that the only person you abandoned yourself to like this was him. He raised a hand, brushing your cheek with his fine fingertips before gently pinching your nose, just enough to make you hum in your sleep without waking you up. "Look at you... Completely at my mercy, Doll. You're lucky I find you cute when you shut up."
━━━ ✦ 宿儺 RYOMEN SUKUNA ✦ ━━━━━━━━
In the middle of his innate domain, where usually only blood and terror reigned, you did the unthinkable. Sitting at the foot of his throne, your eyes closed and your head dropped against his massive knee, your body relaxing against his white-robed leg. Sukuna lowered his four red eyes toward you, his cruel sneer freezing in place. Cursed spirits would have trembled in fear at this dead silence, but you just breathed calmly. A low growl, like that of a deeply intrigued apex predator, rose from his throat. "Such audacity... Sleeping at the gates of hell," his double voice whispered, echoing with a menacing yet strangely captivated edge. One of his clawed hands came to rest on the top of your head. His sharp nails brushed your scalp, a caress that was as much a death threat as it was an unsettling form of affection. He didn't move a single millimeter. "Enjoy my mercy, Woman. If you only knew how many heads I’ve severed for far less... Stay there."
━━━ ✦ 虎杖悠仁 YUJI ITADORI ✦ ━━━━━━━━
The movie was still playing on the screen, but you had already lost the battle against sleep. Your head bounced gently onto Yuji’s shoulder, your fingers subconsciously gripping the fabric of his hoodie. Yuji turned bright scarlet instantly. His arms remained frozen in mid-air, trembling slightly, his eyes glued to the TV even though his brain wasn't processing a single thing on screen. His throat tightened in a terribly cute panic. "O-Oh... okay," he whispered, his heart pounding so loudly in his chest that he was terrified you would hear it. Seeing you shift to snuggle even closer, he let out a muffled chuckle and relaxed. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you affectionately against him, burying his face in your neck while taking a deep breath. "You must have worked so hard today... Rest well, Sweetheart. I won't move an inch."
━━━ ✦ 伏黒恵 MEGUMI FUSHIGURO ✦ ━━━━━
The Jujutsu High library was completely deserted. Worn out by your studying, your head finally slid off the textbooks, slumping right onto Megumi’s shoulder. Megumi’s pen stopped dead on his notebook. He slowly turned his eyes toward you, his face instantly turning a deep shade of pink all the way to the tips of his ears. He looked around the room, making sure no one (especially not Nobara or Gojo) was around to witness this. He let out a quiet sigh, but his eyes held an infinite softness. He put his pen down and, with a slightly hesitant hand, he came to support your head so you wouldn't hurt your neck, gently pulling you closer against him. "Seriously... you don't make this easy for me," he whispered, as one of his Divine Dogs silently emerged from the shadows to rest its snout against your feet, watching over the two of you. "Good night, Beloved."
A short sweetness to balance things out, but don't get too comfortable. The conclusion of Beyond Reasonable Doubt drops tomorrow. Don't say I didn't warn you. (¬‿¬)
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sukuna had you in a mean mating press , he was forcing himself deeper in you. “fuck girl— your cunt is hugging me tight.’
“ryo move i have to pee.’ you squealed , feeling that weird sensation in your stomach. you tried to push at sukuna’s lower stomach but his third hand grabbed yours and pinned it to the side. ‘sukuna please.’ you begged , you didn’t want to pee all over him.
sukuna shook his head , speeding up his thrust. “fuck that. take my cock you slut.’ your mind went blank and your vision was blurry. the feeling you knew all too well was approaching and sukuna was chasing it.
‘kuna please. i need to pee.’ you cried. that pressure inching closer and closer. but sukuna didn’t stop , his fourth hand reached over to rub your swollen clit. sending shock waves throughout your already overwhelmed body.
you couldn’t hold it anymore with the amazing pleasure sukuna was giving you ; your body couldn’t hold it in. ‘shit— ryo i’m cumming.’ you moaned out , your free hand scratching at sukuna’s chest.
you legs started shaking rapidly , before your juices sprayed out onto sukuna. your mouth gaped open filling the room with a strings of moans and squeals. ‘shitttt- ahhghggghh kunaaaa fuckkkk—.’
sukuna came as he watched you unravel. your juices spayed all over his chest and cock , making the bed a mess. it was a beautiful sight. his thrust slowed , as he came deep in you.
‘that’s a good girl.’ sukuna praised as he rubbed your clit once more , your body jerking with overstimulation. you pushed his hand away as your body recovered from that crazy sensation.
sukuna pulled you into a sloppy , wet kiss. he moaned in your mouth before slowly pulling away. a string of yours and his salvia dripped onto your chin and chest. sukuna licked it up slowly before spiting it back in your mouth.
‘you need to squirt more often brat.’ sukuna teased. ‘you made a big mess tho.’
‘shut up ryomen.’ you rolled your eyes.
time invest in a waterproof mattress cover. because sukuna wasn’t stopping there.
first kiss with boyfriend!choso except he doesn’t know what a kiss is ᝰ.ᐟ fluff, fem!reader
“do you think it’d be weird if i kissed him?”
maki had looked at you like you had two heads when she asked, “why would that be weird? he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”
“well, yeah… but, isn’t the guy usually supposed to do it first?”
“choso wasn’t even a fully conscious being a year ago.” she scoffed, “your boyfriend is essentially one of those expanding pill toys we used to soak in the sink as kids. there’s nothing ‘usual’ about you two. I say go for it.”
you nibble the inside of your lip as you think back to the conversation you’d had with your friend just a few hours earlier. she was right, there is absolutely nothing normal about a jujutsu sorcerer and a death painting being in a relationship, so perhaps it isn’t fair to apply the same expectations you would a normal guy to choso. and though he was different from any guy you’d been with before, you could say with utmost certainty that no one has ever treated you as well as your sweet boy does, even if his methods were a little unconventional at times and he still referred to you as his ‘mate’ instead of his girlfriend. but that was just something you’d gotten used to.
the two of you are sat under a tree on a breezy day with your back against the bark and choso’s head tucked in your lap contently. he has his eyes closed but you can tell he’s not sleeping, just resting, his pretty lashes kissing his cheeks. chest rising and falling slowly. if anything, his relaxed stature should mirror onto you but it only makes you more nervous.
gently, you move to hold his face in your hands, thumbs dusting over his cheeks which makes him exhale a breath through his nose a little heavier in response. though no longer a stranger to your touch, it still makes his heart skip all the same. choso and affection had never crossed paths until he’d met you.
and slowly, you lower your face to his, eyes drawing to a close when you carefully slot your lips over his own. you remain there for a beat before you pull away to see a pair of alerted, intense eyes staring directly into yours.
“what did you just do?”
he’s so matter of fact. you still aren’t quite sure if you’re used to how much weight his voice has when he uses it. how it feels like he’s speaking into you instead of to you.
“um, I-“ you swallow, hard. “it was a kiss. i kissed you.”
you hadn’t really thought this through, you realize as your mouth runs dry. feels like it’s been filled with sand.
“why? what is a ‘kiss’?” he’d paused to taste the word, like he’d never spoken it before. because he hadn’t.
“it’s what you do when you like someone. when words aren’t enough to show it. you put your lips on theirs, and… move them.”
you were going to kill maki.
he nods, but he still seems to be thinking on it. “what does it mean?”
“it’s kind of hard to explain. but it’s supposed to be a good thing, you know… that couples do.” he shifts slightly, arms coming up to cross under his head instead. his knuckles brushing against the skin of your thighs, the feeling of his hands making you fidget a bit. they were almost hot.
“how’d it make you feel?” you ask.
“do it again.”
“what?”
he repeats himself, “do it again. you caught me off guard the first time.”
so you do as you’re told. once. just a peck, barely a second. then again, but this time, you stay long enough to feel his lips tentatively start to move against yours. to feel them press deeper into yours when his chin tilts upwards.
a breath is shared between the two of you, lips ghosting against each other’s before you pull away completely.
your heart is beating fast and you know he can sense it.
“so? now how do you feel?” it comes out really soft because you’re nervous and you truly can’t read him right now.
he looks… confused. curious? you don’t know, but there’s a harsh line between his brows while he mulls on his answer.
“warm. like my blood is about to burst through my veins any second now… like—“ his lips close, then part again, but it takes a few more seconds for words to escape and for the first time ever you hear choso trip over his words. “like the feeling you get when you’re getting ready to fight someone. but… different. more intense.”
“cho, it’s okay if you didn’t like—“
he doesn’t let you finish.
“give me more,” and he tacks it on for good measure because yuji’s told him he needs to work on his manners. “please.”
There’s also another idea where they’re both mermaids, and Suguru is the deep-sea mer; they keep their hair long so other fish think it’s an extension of their body used for hunting. They can withstand cold temperatures, heavy pressure, and cut through the water with frightening ease. Suguru is also surrounded by curses, and those deep-sea fish are ugly.
Satoru, however, is a loud and bright shallow-water mer that literally can’t not draw attention to himself. He adorns himself with shells and pearls and weird, pretty human things left behind. He doesn’t know anything about subtlety or practicalism (gifts are supposed to be pretty and useless), and he is for sure not used to the low-key courting gestures that the deep-sea mers do.
In his eyes, if you’re not parading around and flaunting your desire to be with someone, then you just don’t want to be their mate!
I don’t really have a full idea, I just want to imagine Suguru in a tight black wetsuit and deep sea mermaid Satoru who loves to swim with him but his eyes aren’t meant for the bright sun so Suguru has to force him to go back into the deep before he blinds himself
His tail is flowy like a betta fish, and it’s SO shiny. On the surface, he’s all white and reflective. But underwater, it would be too attention-seeking to predators (even though he claims he IS the apex of the ocean--not merkind, just him), so he can become almost transparent to reflect his surroundings as camouflage.
Satoru’s shiny scales and boisterous personality are a riot for shallow-water fish, though. They love the rainbows that paint his body in the sun. And his eyes were bluer than the ocean and sky combined. Too bad he’s too sensitive to the light. He enjoys the warmth of the sun, but if he stays out too long, it’ll make him too slow and sluggish to swim his way to the deep safely.
That’s probably how Suguru found him, washed up near the rock he was sunbathing on. Got too hot, and the tide pulled back so he couldn’t slip under to cool down. Heat exhaustion killed any strength left, so he flopped onto the sand, hoping the sun would move enough to get some shade from the rock.
Suguru was carrying his surfing gear, but dropped everything like a good Samaritan when he saw a large, limp tail beached on shore. He ran over expecting to be a hero to an unfortunate dolphin or whale, but had to stop in his tracks when that tail connected to a very human torso. He appeared to be sleeping, but Suguru could see the sweat that dotted his forehead. His shoulders and face were already blistering from the sun.
Never having been trained for this kind of situation, Suguru drenched a t-shirt in the saltwater, stood close enough to give him some shade, and... just, rung out the shirt over his face.
Satoru sputtered to life, gills flapping and bleary eyes blinking open to see a long-haired angel standing over him 😍
Does anyone on here actually realise that if you keep pushing authors, artists, and other creators off tumblr by being toxic or making it so that their HOBBY is no longer pleasant; there wont be any fanworks to engage with?
gojo rolls off of you, collapsing back into the downy mattress. his cock is painfully hard — leaking and sobbing for you. his chest is flushed ruby red, spanning all the way to the tips of his ears. he can't finish. or, he's not allowed to finish. his best friend needs his turn, getting antsy with his cock in his fist,
it's an unwritten, unsealed deal. you cum, they switch. like clockwork, the second gojo rolls off you, geto takes his place.
"you're a mess." geto comments, slipping inside your wrecked pussy, the remnants of your slick and their pearly cum bubbling up in crude, nasty visuals. he has to swallow down spit, already so overcome and overstimulated. still, he takes you the only way he knows how — the only way you three have ever accepted the others.
"p-please..." you babble, face pressed to the sheets, letting them soak up your words and tears as you present yourself face-down ass-up — your wrists bound behind your back with gojo's belt. they don't like you running away, and they surely hate it when you get overwhelmed and reach back to beg for mercy. "s-s—so senst-tive."
"if you can talk, you can take more," geto replies, massaging the heated skin on your ass, comforting you in small, dumb ways that you can't chew on until after the fact, when you come down from the fucked-out space they cradle you down into.
"we know you can do it, here, mm," gojo finds it in himself to sit up, bare chest rising and falling like he just got done running a marathon. he peeks up at his best friend with fucked-out eyes, giving him a look you can't catch.
they're speaking in full sentences and sentiments without even uttering a word, because geto's thrusts pick up — punishing and fast, like he's trying to finish the job before it's truly started.
"fuck, babe—
"oh, it's so good." geto comments, tossing his head back, eye twitching as he faces the ceiling, hips slamming into your ass as he pummels you back into delicious submission.
you moan, cry, and whine their name — starting with geto, morphing into something reminiscent of gojo, then circling right back to your pleas. it feels so good that you could die, like you've ingested a drug you can never live without, again.
their passion radiating off their souls — melting into one, then separating again the second you punch out a desperate cry, makes you crazy. you're not sure you could be with other men after them, your body opening and accepting them without even trying has changed every sense of your being. you're shattered — finally ruined in their perfect image.
you turn your head at the perfect time, sucking in huge lungfuls of air once geto's fucks ease up ever so slightly. he's distracted as gojo sits up on his knees, reaching down to trace over your tear-stained cheek.
with you in the middle — caught like an elated fish about to be eaten alive, geto reaches for his best friend, his huge paw wrapping around the back of his neck. you peek up, blinking stars from your eyes as geto grounds himself inside of you, eyes slipping shut as he tugs gojo into a bruising, passionate kiss.
you can't see it, but you can hear it — the clashing of teeth, the wetness of spit and lust. their tongues fight and disagree in each other's mouths, only stopping to agree on one thing, and it's you.
