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⊹ . SELENA ⋆ she/her ⋆ 19 ⋆ latina (english y español) ⋆ sfw+nsfw blog ⋆ gojo's pretty girl ⋆ eren's housewife ⋆ nanami's muñeca

⊹ . BEFORE YOU INTERACT ⋆ READ MY RULES AND DNI!

©selssatoru ⤷ please do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate (ask for permission first!) my work, thank you! divider creds : @/kgymz

#selssatoru #pinned intro #info

ughh does anyone have theme ideasss

selssatoru

Party of 3 ⋆ Satoru Gojo & Suguru Geto

⊹ summary: satoru has really no idea what he’s doing half of the time, but when suguru decides to teach him how to have sex, you get pulled into it. suddenly everything becomes a lesson.

⊹ cw: f!reader, smut, piv, creampie, voyeurism, inexperienced!satoru, mmf threesome, oral, overstim, implied consent, cucking(?), dom!suguru, sub!reader & satoru, heavy satosugu, unprotected sex (ALWAYS USE PROTECTION YALL), not proofread or formatted well..

⊹ wc: 2239

This was a bad idea.

Actually, no. Bad ideas at least sound good at first.

This was humiliating.

Satoru Gojo is sitting across the room trying not to stare while Suguru has you pressed into his couch like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Keyword: trying. He fails the second Suguru’s hand wraps around your throat.

“Eyes up,” Suguru says lazily, fingers slipping under your shirt like he has all the time in the world. “If you’re going to learn something, pay attention.”

Satoru immediately locks in.

You want to disappear. Or evaporate into Suguru’s couch cushions and never exist again.

Because somehow this started with drinks. And Satoru talking too much. And Suguru asking all the wrong questions with the right smile.

“You’ve never done anything?” Suguru had said earlier, head tilted slightly.

Satoru scoffed immediately.

“That’s not what I said.”

“You implied it.”

“I didn’t imply anything.”

“You literally said— ‘I don’t really know what I’m doing half the time.’”

“Because it looks easier in porn!”

That was the moment everything went wrong. Or right?

Depending on who you ask anyway.

Now Satoru is sitting across from you, stiff as hell, trying very hard not to look at you while Suguru makes it impossible not to feel watched.

“You’re staring again,” Suguru hums.

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

Satoru snaps his gaze away so fast it almost looks like instinct.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” he mutters.

“Obviously," Suguru only smiles.

And the worst part is you can feel Satoru looking at you even when he’s not supposed to.

Like he’s trying to figure out what to do with his hands. With his eyes. With himself.

Suguru notices, of course. He always does.

“You wanna touch her?”

The room goes silent.

Satoru blinks. “What?”

“You heard me.”

And just like that, whatever game this was supposed to be stops feeling like a joke.

Satoru still hadn’t looked away from you. Which honestly shouldn't have affected you this much, but it did.

“You okay?” Suguru asked softly, staring into your eyes.

The sudden gentleness in his voice caught you off guard.

You nodded quickly.

“Use your words, baby.”

“I’m okay,” you mumbled.

“Good girl. Remember, you don’t have to,” he said finally, voice quieter than before.

You nod your head, silently allowing Satoru to come closer.

“I promise I’ll be careful,” Satoru sounded sincere.

Careful. Like he was genuinely trying not to scare you away.

Suguru leaned closer to your ear. “See? He’s learning already.”

“Fuck you,” Satoru muttered.

Suguru grinned. “Maybe later.”

A moment of silence settles over the room. Not awkward exactly, just heavy.

Suguru shifts behind Satoru, fingers briefly tightening at his shoulder like a reminder that he’s still in control of the situation.

“Don’t be shy, Satoru,” he murmurs close to his ear. “Just listen to what I tell you, okay?”

Satoru swallows. You can see it in the way his jaw flexes. He’s thinking too much. Always thinking too much.

Then Suguru gently guides him forward between your legs.

Your breath hitches, your legs instinctively wrapping around him as Satoru comes closer, suddenly very aware of how little space is left between you now.

“Okay,” Satoru says quietly, like he’s saying it more to himself than anyone else.

It’s not cocky. Not loud. Not Satoru at all. Just.. careful.

Suguru sits back beside you like he’s watching a demonstration he already knows the outcome of.

“Kiss her,” he says simply. “Slow. Don’t rush it.”

Satoru hesitates for half a second too long.

Then he looks at you, your eyes almost begging for him.

And whatever uncertainty is still left in him doesn’t disappear, it just gets buried under something heavier.

He leans in, landing a small peck on your lips. Like he’s afraid of getting it wrong.

But then you respond, just slightly, and something in him shifts immediately.

He relaxes, not fully, but enough.

Enough that the second kiss doesn’t feel like a question anymore.

It feels like a decision.

Suguru watches the whole thing without saying a word, expression unreadable except for the faint curve at the corner of his mouth, like he’s enjoying how quickly Satoru stops pretending he doesn’t want this.

“Better,” Suguru murmurs.

Satoru pulls back just slightly, breath uneven now, eyes flicking for a second like he forgot anyone else is in the room.

“You’re overthinking,” Suguru adds lightly.

“I’m not—” Satoru starts, but stops himself, exhaling through his nose.

You can feel your heartbeat in your throat now.

Because this isn’t just teasing anymore. Not really.

It’s real in a way that makes it hard to think straight.

Satoru looks at you again, like he’s asking permission without words.

And when you don’t push away, he leans back in.

Suguru shifts behind him again, voice softer now, almost approving.

“Good,” he says. “Just like that.” And the rest of his instructions blur into something you can’t quite focus on anymore.

Not with Satoru this close. Not with the feeling of being looked at like that.

Like you’re the only thing either of them is paying attention to.

Suguru unzips his jeans, staring intently at the both of you. He pulls his cock out, rubbing the precum up and down his shaft. He lets out a soft groan.

Satoru stops kissing you, looking over to Suguru.

"Who told you to stop, Satoru? Keep going." Suguru whispers, adjusting his pace.

Suguru's hand stays on Satoru's shoulder, steadying him while he keeps kissing you. The first few kisses stay soft, almost careful, but then Satoru presses in harder, mouth opening against yours like he's trying to figure it out as he goes. His tongue brushes yours, clumsy at first, then he catches on and does it again, slower this time.

Suguru's voice stays low behind him. "Take her shirt off."

Satoru hesitates for half a second, then his hands move to the hem of your shirt. He pulls it up, fingers brushing your skin as he lifts it over your head. Your shirt drops somewhere on the floor. His eyes flick down to your chest, then back up like he's checking if he's doing it right.

"Good," Suguru says. "Take her bra off."

Satoru swallows, then reaches behind you for the clasp of your bra. It takes him two tries before it comes undone. He slides the straps off your shoulders, and the bra falls away. His breathing gets heavier as he looks at you, hands hovering like he doesn't know where to put them next.

Suguru's hand moves down Satoru's arm, guiding it forward. "Touch her."

Satoru's palm lands on your boob, warm and a little unsure. He squeezes once, testing, then again with more pressure. His thumb drags over your nipple and he watches your face the whole time, catching every little reaction.

"She likes it," Suguru tells him. "Don't stop."

Satoru leans in again, kissing you while his hand keeps moving, squeezing and rubbing. His other hand finds your waist, fingers digging in a little as he pulls you closer. Suguru stays right behind him, watching everything, one hand still resting on Satoru's shoulder like he's directing the whole thing.

Satoru's cock is hard in his pants, pressing against the front. He shifts his hips without thinking, grinding against your thigh while he keeps touching you. Suguru notices and smirks.

"You're getting worked up already," Suguru says. "Her pants next.."

Satoru pulls back just enough to work on your pants, fingers fumbling with the button before he gets it open. He tugs them down your hips, taking your underwear with them in one pull. The clothes hit the floor and you're left bare in front of him. His eyes drag over your body, and his hand goes straight between your legs without waiting for more instructions.

Suguru's voice stays calm. "Rub her clit. Slow."

Satoru's fingers find the spot, circling it the way Suguru told him. He's still breathing hard, still hard in his pants, but he follows the direction without arguing. His free hand stays on your waist, holding you steady while he touches you, and Suguru watches every move like he's enjoying the show.

You watch Suguru’s fist move over his own cock the whole time, the head already slick. He doesn’t look away from either of you.

“Spread her legs more,” Suguru says. Satoru does it, and Suguru steps in closer. “I’m going first, so move.”

He lines himself up and pushes into you slowly. You feel the stretch, the weight of him settling deep while Satoru stays right there next to you, watching as Suguru's cock enters your pussy.

Suguru starts fucking you slow, hips rolling steady, one hand still wrapped around his base like he’s controlling every inch.

“Get down there,” Suguru tells Satoru, as he grips his white hair. “Lick her clit while I’m inside her.”

Satoru drops without arguing. His tongue finds your clit, licking in messy circles while Suguru keeps thrusting. Every time Suguru pushes in, Satoru’s mouth moves with the motion, and you can feel both of them at once.

You reach down and pull Satoru’s hair. “Slower with your tongue. Y-yeah, like that. Press down a little harder.”

Suguru smirks above you. “She’s telling you what she wants. Listen to her, 'Toru.”

He pulls out after a few more thrusts and guides Satoru up. “Your turn now.”

Satoru immediately pulls his sweats down, his cock straining against his boxers. Suguru tugs them down for him, giving Satoru's cock a friendly stroke.

Satoru takes Suguru's place, mind completely blank.

You grab his cock, slowly moving his tip through your folds. You guide him inside of you, your back arching off of the bed.

"Fuck.. 's too big," you manage to say.

He begins to thrust, sloppily and definitely inexperienced. You whine, the sudden contact not feeling as good as Suguru's.

Suguru sighs, and moves behind Satoru, chest to his back. He guides Satoru's hips, moving them for him. "This might be easier actually," Suguru says and lines his cock up with Satoru’s ass.

He pushes in slow, one hand gripping Satoru’s hip to steady him. Satoru’s breath catches hard, but Suguru doesn’t give him time to adjust before he starts moving.

“Fuck her.. and I mean fuck her good,” Suguru says against Satoru’s ear. His hips drive forward, pushing Satoru’s cock into you with every thrust. Satoru’s hands land on either side of you on the couch, his body caught between the two of you. Suguru sets the pace, fucking into Satoru so Satoru fucks into you, the three of you rocking together.

You look up at Satoru’s face, flushed and overwhelmed. “Angle your hips a little lower. Right there.,” you moan out.

Suguru’s hand stays firm on Satoru’s waist, controlling every movement while he fucks him. “She knows what she likes. Do what she says.”

You lower your hand between your thighs, rubbing your clit messily. You clench around Satoru, feeling yourself about to cum. "I-I'm gonna cum.. don't fucking stop," you practically scream.

Suguru takes that as the green light to fuck Satoru harder. Satoru's hips rocking into you harder and harder by the minute. "Make her cum Satoru.. feel her little cunt squeeze the fuck out of you," he whispers into Satoru's ear, keeping the pace relentless.

He nods frantically, feeling so drunk from both Suguru's cock, and your pussy.

Your vision goes completely white as you cum, gripping onto Satoru's biceps. He groans as he feels you grip his cock.

"Fuck, that's right, cum on his cock like a good girl," He praises, fucking Satoru harder. "It's your turn now, Satoru, cum."

Satoru's breath hitches as he feels himself start to see stars, he freaks out a bit as he realizes hes still inside you. "W-wait, I can't cum inside her, that's crazy-" his sentence is cut short as Suguru covers his mouth and pounds into him.

"Do as I say, remember, I'm teaching you," he says nonchalantly.

His eyes roll up as thick ropes of white shoot into your cunt. Suguru reaches over to Satoru's hand and guides it to your clit as he continues to fuck Satoru.

The second Satoru finishes inside you, his whole body goes slack, his bright eyes hazy, forehead dropping against your shoulder as he pants like he just ran a marathon. He doesn’t even realize Suguru hasn't stopped moving.

Suguru keeps thrusting into him with slow, deep rolls of his hips, still hard as ever, and when Satoru shudders at the oversensitivity? He smirks.

“You okay?” he teases lowly right into his ear.

Satoru whines. A pathetic little noise no one has ever heard from him before.

That only makes Suguru laugh softly under his breath.

You're still throbbing around Satoru's cock inside you while your clit gets lazy circles from Satoru’s hand. It shouldn't feel good anymore, but somehow it does.

Then suddenly, Suguru pulls out completely and flips onto his back beside both of you on the couch. His cock thick and glistening in full view now.

He's definitely not done with the both of you either.

©selssatoru ⤷ please do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my work. thank you. @cafekitsune divider creds :))

#icymi <3

selssatoru

⊹ summary: after years of watching toxic boyfriend!eren yeager hurt you, art student!jean kirstein finally admits he’s been studying you like his muse all along.

⊹ cw: toxic relationship, emotional abuse (eren yeager), unrequited feelings, pining, angst -> comfort

⊹ wc: 756

jean kirstein swears he didn’t mean for it to get this bad.

at first it was harmless.

one sketch during freshman orientation because you kept tucking your hair behind your ear while pretending to listen to the dean speak.

then another during philosophy because you sat close enough for him to notice the way your eyebrows furrowed when you got confused.

then another at the coffee shop off campus while you laughed so hard at something sasha said you almost spilled your drink all over yourself.

now you exist in every sketchbook he owns.

not intentionally.

it just.. happens.

because jean notices things about you without trying.

the way you chew on your bottom lip when you’re anxious. the way you stare at your phone too long after eren yeager ignores your texts. the way you force smiles around your friends after arguments like no one can tell you’ve been crying.

jean can tell.

he always can.

which is exactly why he can’t stand eren yeager.

everyone else sees eren as charismatic, passionate, the whole package deal.

but jean? he sees the boyfriend who disappears for days and comes back acting like you’re dramatic for being upset about it.

the boyfriend who leaves you outside parties alone while he gets drunk somewhere else.

the boyfriend who somehow makes every argument feel like your fault in the end.

and the worst part is—

you still love him anyway.

jean thinks that’s what kills him the most.

because no matter how many times eren leaves you standing in the rain waiting for him, you still answer his calls. still let him pull you back in with soft apologies and tired eyes.

and jean still lets you into his studio afterward every. single. time.

he pretends not to notice when you curl up on the couch in his art room while he paints. pretends not to notice when you fall asleep there sometimes too.

then he draws you again.

soft pencil strokes. careful lines. like he’s terrified of ruining you even on paper.

“you’re staring again,” you mumble one night, voice heavy with sleep from the couch behind him.

jean nearly drops his pencil.

“i’m literally drawing.”

“yeah,” you say quietly. “exactly.”

his stomach twists.

because you have no idea.

you’ve never seen the stacks of sketchbooks shoved underneath his bed. pages and pages of you. your hands. your smile. your side profile while studying. little notes in the margins next to unfinished sketches that say things like pretty when she laughs or looks at sunsets like she’s trying to memorize them.

it’s embarrassing at this point. honestly concerning.

but jean can’t stop.

especially not when you show up at his studio two weeks later with mascara running down your face and your phone clutched so tightly in your hand it looks painful.

jean’s already standing before you even speak.

“what happened?”

you laugh weakly, wiping under your eyes. “guess.”

that’s all he needs to hear.

his jaw clenches immediately.

“he did this again?”

“jean—”

“no, seriously, what the fuck is wrong with him?”

you look exhausted. not angry. not even surprised anymore. just tired.

and suddenly jean feels something ugly crawl up his throat because you deserve to be loved gently. completely. the way he’s been trying to love you quietly for years now.

he sits you down on the old couch in the corner of the studio and hands you one of his hoodies without saying anything. it smells like paint and graphite and of course, jean.

you pull it over your head immediately.

something about that almost ruins him.

the studio falls quiet except for rain hitting the windows. jean tries to focus on cleaning his brushes, but he can feel you staring at him now.

“why do you always do this?” you ask softly.

jean looks over his shoulder. “do what?”

“take care of me after i let him hurt me.”

his chest tightens painfully.

because there are a thousand things he wants to say.

because he’s spent years swallowing every feeling he’s ever had about you just to keep you close.

because loving you quietly is starting to feel impossible.

you deserve someone who remembers how you drink your coffee. someone who notices when your smile looks fake. someone who studies you like you’re something worth understanding.

jean does.

god, jean does.

and maybe that’s why the words finally slip out before he can stop them.

“you deserve someone who studies you,” he says quietly. “i study you.”

silence.

the kind that changes things.

©selssatoru ⤷ please do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my work. thank you.