imagine being fwbs with gojo n in the middle of folding you like a lawn chair he noses at your cheek n goes “hey do u wanna be my girlfriend?”
✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ BEST OF THE BEST — GOJO SATORU.
contents. fwb! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, unprotected sex, mating press, creampie, non canon compliant (suguru and shoko are ur friend group >:( tyvm), very cheesy ending my b, yes i made a reference to this is where you’re weak, right? sue me, petnames (sweetheart, sweet girl, princess, baby)
“bet you were waitin’ for this all day, huh sweetheart?” satoru always has a way with words—a very unique, special, and irritating way with words that routinely manages to get under your skin.
you would scoff—in fact, you would call him quite a colorful variation of words if his thick cock wasn’t pressing comfortably against your sweet spot.
so instead, you gasp a quiet, “f-fuck—right there.”
“yeah, i know,” he chuckles, “this is where you need me, huh? where you’re weak?”
you can’t do anything but whimper at that, hands wrapped tightly around him as they claw into his shoulder. he always wears the marks you leave like a good sport too—shows up to the gym in a tank top that shows them off good and well, right for suguru to see them clear as day. you almost block satoru right on the spot when he sends you a selfie in the mirror, showing off the angry marks with a wink following.
it’s a bit of a predicament, fucking your high school friend and not letting anyone know. the idea of shoko and suguru finding out that every other night, satoru is in your bed as his cum leaks out of your abused cunt is enough to make you nauseous—but never nauseous enough not to open the door for him.
the most unfortunate fact you’ve learned in your life is that satoru knows how to fuck—in fact, he knows how to fuck you well enough that you let him come back. it’s a bit shameful, really, the way you let him knock on your door, the way you open it and let him in, the way you actually fuck him and let him sleep in your bed until the morning.
and then (because he’s an asshole) he wakes up, gives you a sly wink, and murmurs i’ll be back soon, yeah? keep that bed warm for me, sweetheart.
“c-close, toru—‘m gonna….gonna—”
“gonna what? cum? already? barely even fucked you yet,” he hums, hooking your leg over his shoulder before all but pressing you in half. you mewl at the way his tip brushes past your folds and splits you in half—deeper this time with the new position. “look at that,” he coos, staring down at the way his cock slips in and out of you, “takin’ me so well, sweet girl. i think you can go a bit longer, don’t you?”
“m-more, more—need—”
“i know, i know,” he grins, “need me to fuck you dumb, don’t you? don’t worry, princess. i’ll give you more.”
his hips snap into you, pelvis rocking against yours as his pre cum and your slick mix, making a mess between your bodies as it coats your skin. you gasp, pulling satoru closer as his head falls to tuck into your shoulder, his labored breaths fanning against the shell of your ear.
“‘s good,” you whine, “f-feels good, toru.”
“yeah? feel that? squeezin’ me so tight, i can barely move,” he groans, letting out a sweet, low sound into your ear that has your spine shivering—you think you could come undone from that, from the sounds he makes as your walls flutter around him.
you think everything about satoru is enough to send you over the edge, from the sound of his voice to that pretty face of his when he spills into you.
you know he’s close—you can feel the slight twitch of his cock as his pace gets sloppier, as his thumb finds your clit and rubs desperate circles into the sensitive nerves, as he practically presses your knees to your shoulders and bullies his throbbing cock deep into your dripping cunt. and you’re close too, head spinning as your eyes flutter shut and your lips part with a broken wail.
“c-close—‘gonna cum, toru,” you gasp, voice coming in labored pants as his breath hitches.
you look perfect like this—like you’re his, like your body was made for him to touch in sinful ways, like it was his cock that was always supposed to fit into you and make you fall apart. his hand grabs yours, and without thinking, both of your fingers interlace.
“baby,” he hums, his nose pressing into your cheek as he kisses the skin softly, “‘m gonna make you mine, yeah? wanna be my girlfriend? my sweet girl? you want it, right?”
you should be shocked—you should stop and ask him what he means, what he’s playing at, what he thinks he’s doing toying with your mind.
instead, you gasp, pulling him closer as your walls spasm around him, back arching and eyes rolling back as the coil in your belly snaps and you cum. hard. harder than he’s ever made you before. does the idea of being his really do that to you? does the idea of being his sweet, precious girl outside of your bed at night really send you hurdling over the edge like that?
evidently, it does—and your high sends him right into his own. like he needs you to fall apart so he can too, like the way he knows you feel good makes him feel good too. maybe he does want you, maybe it’s not a sick joke. the way his voice cracks with a strained call of your name certainly says as much—the way his hand tightens its grip on yours, the way his hips rut desperately as he presses impossibly closer, the way he presses hot, scattered kisses along your cheek and jaw as he groans through his release.
it’s messy. it’s filthy. it’s downright dirty the way satoru fucks his cum into you, letting it drip down your thighs and mark your skin—but it feels like being his.
you think you might want that.
he’s gentle when he finishes—carefully unhooks your legs from his shoulders before running a hand along your thigh and squeezing as he observes the cum dripping between your legs. you huff when he collapses over you, glaring at him as his weight presses onto your form.
“you’re heavy,” you grunt, smacking at his shoulder.
he hums, nose pressing to your jaw as he kisses it. “not moving till you answer me.”
“satoru, don’t joke about—”
“how rude,” he gasps, “you think i would joke while i’m balls deep in—”
“oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands, “please stop talking.”
he grins, chuckling as he shuffles up to bury his face into your neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin. “you don’t wanna be my girlfriend? that’s gonna hurt my feelings, y’know.”
satoru has always been like that, wearing an easy grin and plastering that playfulness on like a second skin. you can hear it though—the slight unease in his voice. you can’t fathom letting everyone know that sometimes, you let satoru fuck you…but maybe knowing that sometimes, you hold hands, and maybe kiss, and perhaps snuggle on the couch, and potentially even share a bed to sleep, not just fuck, but sleep—maybe they can know that.
that doesn’t sound so bad.
“that depends,” you hum, pretending to think, “how good at being a boyfriend are you?”
“excellent,” he plays along, “best of the best.”
“that’s just big talk. you could be lying for all i know,” you point out—but your fingers slip into his hair, twirling the sweaty strands along your fingers.
“well, you’ll just have to let me prove i’m a good boyfriend—so that means i have to be your boyfriend. sorry, it’s the only way.”
if satoru hears the giggle you try to hide as you sigh exaggeratedly, he doesn’t mention it, lips pulling into a giddy smile as he pulls his head out of your neck and presses his forehead to yours. your hands cup his cheeks, squeezing gently.
“i guess if this is the only way,” you shake your head theatrically, “you can be my boyfriend. for now.”
“i’m grateful,” he snorts—and then there’s a peck to your lips. one, two, three gentle kisses before he presses a lingering one. it’s sweet, and slow, and just a bit needy as he presses deeper into you. “now i can tell suguru the scratches on my back are yours. he’s been asking a lot.”
leave it to satoru to speak and ruin the moment just by opening his mouth.
“satoru,” you hiss, throwing him a sharp look, “i think you’d be a better boyfriend when your mouth is shut.”
“then i can’t kiss you,” he gasps, “that’s the best part of being my girlfriend.”
and just to prove it, he kisses you again—and maybe, although you hate to admit it, he’s right. it is the best part.
ok before i call it a night i just feel like nanami & aizawa are the kings of lazy fucking. y’all probably thinking sis what the hell is that? like nah, i just think my tired kings are the kings of that. like despite being exhausted, they still are hornballs for their s/o. like nanami’s always staring at his s/o while they’re cooking, his tie loosely around his neck. despite being so tired from work, his hands lingering a lil longer on your body as he’s passing by you in the kitchen and he’s so eager to help you on the counter to tiredly fuck you. while aizawa always seems to still climb his hands in your clothing to caress your bare skin while watching a movie despite claiming he’s not sleep but dozing off. taking comfort to squeeze your boobs or massaging the flesh on your tummy. so when i say lazy fucking, i’m not particularly talking about they don’t put effort into the sex. nope! i’m saying that their strokes are slow and so passionate. they’re placing tired kisses on your lips and on your neck. their pulling out just to push their thick cocks back inside you with so much ease since you fit around them like a perfect fitted glove. their groans of pleasure are just so soft and they always utter words of praise & how much they love you when they’re filling you up with their cum.
and then their asses sleep like big ass babies afterwards.
Imagine Renji Abarai fucking you from behind while R&B is playing in the background his hands on your hips the sounds of skin slapping and your moans filling up the room
♡ WC: 437
♡ TW: none really apply, not proofread, backshots from Renji, AFAB, use of good girl but mostly gender neutral, MDNI!
The faint melodies of the sensual R&B song that swayed through the room became nothing more than a slightly recognizable beat that overlapped with the rough sound of skin slapping against skin that was just as loud as thunder the way Renji’s hips moved at a ferocious speed. The stamina of this man never lets you catch a break.
In intervals Renji’s hips met yours from behind, his thumb nestled deep into the space between your thigh and tummy for leverage as he forced your hips to meet him halfway for the backshots he was delivering to you, giving you no opportunity to run away from his strokes no matter how hard your body unconsciously tried. Each languid thrust had the tip of his cock hitting the softest parts of your insides and teasing just the beginning of your cervix from how deep he was going. And all you could do was take it, face stuffed into a pillow that muffled your moans along with the sound of the music, but still loud enough for Renji to hear.
“That’s it, be a good girl and take it.”
You could just hear the smirk in his tone from behind you and you knew his words of praises were really just teasing. He knew your body all too well to know how long it took for you to be fucked beyond fucked and he knew he was getting warmer; he was going to push you over the edge.
Reaching forward with one hand until his dewy chest was pressed against your back, his middle finger mercilessly began to move against your clit at a speed that mimicked that of a vibrator. Each moan that fell from your lips only edge him on more, his teeth having to catch his bottom lip to refrain from letting you know just how good you felt hugging his cock like this with your cunt. Still, he allowed a few warm breaths that matched the tempo of the smooth R&B playing in the background.
Such a music lover that even in the heat of the moment he couldn’t help but hum along shortly to the song.
That was interrupted by himself though when he allowed his tongue to leave his mouth and lick a long stripe up the salty skin of your neck sending a shiver all the way down to your spine.
“M’going to have you creaming all over my cock until this playlist is over with,” He speaks up once more through broken pants borderlining moans, “You’ll be a blabbering mess by the time I’m done with you.”
contents. fem! reader, minors do not interact, lots of morning kissies :(, reader is a jujutsu teacher, dry humping, praise, satoru cumming early in his pants like the loser boy he is, implied cunnilingus at the end
just one more kiss, baby is never just one more kiss when it’s satoru. you’ve always known that—but maybe that’s why you let it happen. it’s always the same story: one kiss becomes two, then two becomes three, and then suddenly there’s a lot more than kissing and a lot less than getting ready for the day.
but satoru’s got missions. and you’ve got kids to teach. there isn’t a day to rest, let alone afford tardiness in the jujutsu world. but satoru likes to test the waters—likes to push the limit as much as he can.
so he does. he’s leaning in for more, breath heavier as he pulls you closer, always just a little closer until you feel like you’re millimeters from sinking into his skin. it’s still not enough, you sense, because he bites at your bottom lip with a groan.
“satoru,” you pause when he kisses you again, “we need to get—” another kiss “—ready for the day—”
“just one more,” he insists.
“it’s already been loads more,” you press a hand to his mouth, blocking his lips from touching yours as he pouts against you. you grin, shaking your head as you stare at him fondly. “we have things to do. both of us.”
“can’t they wait?” he grumbles, muffled against your palm. you roll your eyes, moving your hand to cup his cheek as you stroke the swell of it fondly with your thumb.
“if you’re good, and you finish your duties early, i’ll kiss you all you want,” you tease—he huffs, unimpressed by the offer.
“you still kiss me when i’m bad, what’s the point?”
“so you admit you’re bad,” you raise a brow, making him grin cheekily.
“i can be,” he shrugs, “i love when you put me in my place.”
“you’re too much,” you sigh tiredly. it only makes him chuckle, leaning in again as his lips hover over yours, making you inhale sharply as you feel his breath fan over your mouth.
“know what i love more, though?” he asks with that smug tone of his—it’s the kind of tone that only someone like gojo satoru can get away with having. he’s eyeing you knowingly as you swallow thickly.
“no,” you lie. he knows you’re lying because your eyes dart down to the tent in his boxers momentarily.
“think you do,” he hums, pulling you to straddle his hips as your clothed cunt presses against his hard-on. you can practically feel him twitch against you through the fabric, can practically feel the sweet drops of pre cum that coat his leaky tip.
you don’t want to be late—but who wants to deny satoru either?
“toru, we can’t—”
“i think we can. cause i think you belong right here,” he says lowly, kissing your lips sweetly as his hands find your waist, “right here on my cock, sweetheart. can’t think of a better place.”
“but—”
“feel that?” he groans, guiding your hips to grind against him and drag your pussy along his hardened length. you can feel the wetness seep into both of your clothes—your slick and his pre cum separated from making a combined mess only by the fabric. you want it gone—but satoru keeps it right there. “‘s what you do to me. don’t wanna help?”
“w-we don’t have time,” you gasp as he rubs along your clit, biting your lip and grabbing his shoulders. he chuckles, pecking the corner of your mouth.
“sure we do,” he hums, “no one’s draggin’ you away, are they?”
you kiss him at that—too prideful to give him an answer and too desperate to feel him any way that you can possibly get him. he reciprocates fast, groaning as his lips mold against yours and press heatedly into you as much as he can. he tastes good—like expensive lip balm and lingering sweetness that never seems to go away.
you moan when he grinds up against you, rolling your own hips for more friction as he whimpers into your mouth. everything about satoru is sweet—the way he tastes, the way he sounds, the way he looks.
he’s flushed a pretty little pink along his cheeks, making those precious sounds that will you to stay just a bit longer, to give him what he wants and take what you want too. your hips never cease—in fact, they’re more desperate now, rubbing against him as your clit aches with more and more need.
“toru,” you gasp, “more,” you plead, trying to go faster. it feels like he’s trying to slow you down, though—it only makes you more frantic to build up that steady ache in your clit as your walls flutter around nothing.
“f-fuck, baby,” he rasps, “jus’ h-hold on a second—”
“n-no—don’t stop toru,” you whine, not ready to stop the feeling that rubbing against his thick cock gives you—but then you feel him twitch in that familiar way, in that way you’ve learned can mean only one thing as you become well acquainted with his body.
he whines, head falling back against the bed frame as his hips jerk up, chest rising and falling as he breathes rapidly through a parted mouth. his eyes flutter shut and he moans those pretty little moans you never get tired of hearing as you feel his boxers become more damp by the second. maybe a little sticky too.
“baby, baby—fuck, ‘m cumming,” he gasps, grabbing your hand and squeezing to ground himself as he spills his load into his boxers under you.
he’s sensitive—always has been. cums hard enough that his whole body shakes and you can feel every tremble. you smile softly, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth, trailing to his cheeks and jaw and the tip of his nose as he brokenly cries your name.
“good,” you giggle, “cum for me, toru.”
“for you,” he nods, moaning as he feels your pussy press harder against his tip, “only for you—sh-shit.”
“guess you’re being good today,” you murmur, “look so pretty when you cum, toru. y’know that? my pretty boy. that feel good?”
“so good,” he pants, nodding as his cock twitches under you as you rub against him to guide him through his peak, sticky ropes of cum staining his boxers and making a mess. “f-feels so good—fuck.”
“couldn’t wait, huh?” you chuckle, cupping the back of his head and letting him go slack as you watch the way his face twists in pleasure with the last few drops of cum. it’s sticky under you, hot and wet and messy enough that it’ll be a pain to clean. but he looks so beautiful like this, head fallen against your hand and lips caught between his teeth as he shakily breathes in and out.
“i tried warning you,” he mumbles, catching his breath, “didn’t listen.”
“i didn’t want to,” you grin, kissing his forehead sweetly, “wish you could see yourself—it’s so pretty.”
“not as pretty as you,” he hums, eyes slipping shut for a moment as he sighs at the way you trace his features with your other hand. your touch is delicate—too delicate against the strongest, you suppose. he doesn’t need to be treated delicately, but you think he deserves it anyway.
“now, i hate to ruin the moment,” you start, making him crack an eye open unhappily with a scowl.
“don’t,” he grumbles.
you do anyway. “we’re really gonna be late if we don’t—”
“we’re late either way,” he shrugs, flipping you over before pressing a soft kiss to your lips and crawling down until he’s between your legs. you’re so wet, he notes happily, the damp spot on your pants glazing his eyes with hunger, “can’t just leave my baby like this all day, can i?”
girl go get me the scotch tape. that man’s a drama queen he’s fine ✋🏽
also you all better have sang dua lipa after reading that title
contents. fem! reader, minors and ageless blogs do not interact, fingering, handjobs, unprotected + semi public sex, creampie
lyney, as all his charisma and charm suggests, is a risk taker—it’s why he has you pinned against the wall like this, backstage right before a show.
he shouldn’t. you shouldn’t. you both shouldn’t—but you will.
“lyney,” you warn, pulling away from his lips as he kisses you, hungry, needy, desperate, “we can’t—not here.”
he smirks a little against your mouth, let’s that smooth chuckle of his fan against your lips as he pecks them lightly. he’s amused when his brows quirk up and he stares at you like he has you cornered—he technically does.
“oh? can’t we?” he muses, “i guess not everyone is a fan of big audiences like me—don’t worry,” he presses a kiss to your jaw, “the stage is all ours here.”
“but anyone could walk by—”
“if we’re quick, everyone will be preoccupied—just like i planned it,” he winks.
of course. of course he’d plan to have everyone occupied just long enough that he could fuck you right behind the stage of his own show. you shouldn’t be surprised, yet here you are, gaping at him like he’s insane.
maybe he is, you think, maybe that’s why his tricks are so impressive—he’s not afraid to make a dangerous decision here and there.
“but—”
“i’m awfully nervous for this show,” he pouts, head falling back theatrically as he sighs, “i wish there was a way for me to relax before such a big performance. just to help calm my nerves—oh! wait,” he pretends to light up with an idea, hand squeezing at your tit as he grins, “i suppose there is one way.”
“you’re too much,” you groan.
it’s too late, his victorious grin is already flashing at you as he tugs down your pants, pushing the fabric of your underwear to the side before his finger brushes against your slit. he smiles smugly at the way you’re dripping already, slipping two fingers past your folds and deep into your cunt.
he watches you intently, stares at every reaction, every flutter of your eyes and every part of your lips, taking in the soft gasps as he brushes against that tender spot deep into your walls.
“look at that,” he coos, “you sure know how to put on a show of your own—much better than me, in fact.”
“l-lyney,” you pant, rolling your hips to meet his fingers as they thrust into you. you whine when his palm rolls against your clit, coating his hand in your slicked arousal.
“this is my favorite show,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple as his fingers sink in and out of your dripping core, “it’s such a shame no one else gets to see this—you’d be more popular than me.”
“you’re shameless,” you gasp—but you cut yourself off with a whimper when he curls his digits just right as they bully into you. you can feel his erection poke through his shorts, pressing against your thigh as he leans closer.
“now now,” he mumbles, sucking soft marks into your neck, “you might want to hurry—otherwise we won’t have time for the main act.”
just like that, you fall apart, right there in the back of the stage, not far from a crowd of people waiting to see the same person who’s knuckles deep into your pussy. you gasp, choking on a broken wail of his name as he works you through your high, thrusting into you as you squeeze around his fingers.
you’re breath is erratic—harsh as you breathe and stare into his amused eyes.
and then you don’t waste a second—slipping his pants down just enough to free his strained cock, flushed and pink and swollen at the tip as it leaks with pre cum. you smear it along the head, taking your time to slowly stroke him as he lets out a breathy gasp, head falling into your shoulder as his hips buck into your touch.
“i’m honored you enjoyed my performance,” you hum, “but i think the real performer is always you.” you’re grinning, turning your head and kissing right over his braid.
he chuckles between pants, moans low against your ear and sends shivers through your heated body with every sound he makes. you can’t wait any longer—and something tells you he can’t either, not with the way his hand gently replaces yours, guiding his stiff cock so that his tip is grazing your slit.
“trust me,” he breathes softly, tone much gentler this time, “this isn’t like my performances. this is real—” and then he’s pushing into you, right past your folds and sinking deep into your cunt where his tip kisses that sweet spot at the back of your walls.
it feels real—it always does: the way he kisses you, the way his arms wrap around you, the way he breathes your name like it’s the most important thing he’s ever said. his hips pull back before they snap forward in a deep thrust, slamming his tip back to hit that spot that makes you curl your fingers and dig into his shoulder.
you can feel the drag of every vein against your walls, feel the friction burn pleasure through every nerve as his pelvis meets your clit and bumps against it. it’s good—he’s good, always knows just how to make you forget about your surroundings as all you feel is him.
“lyney,” you whimper, letting him press his mouth over yours to silence you, swallowing every sound you make as he rolls his hips and quivers over your body at the way you suck him in.
it’s a mess—your arousal smeared between your thighs, his glistening cock pulling out before sinking right back into you, filling the small room with the wet sound of him fucking you desperately. you pull him closer by his shirt, and he whines into your mouth as you clench around him after a particularly harsh roll of his hips.
“do you feel me?” he hums, groaning as his head pushes deeper into your neck, hiding into the crook of it as his lips press hot kisses into the skin, “‘cause i can feel you—feels good doesn’t it?”
“yes,” you mewl, fingers trailing to sink into his hair, pulling and making him whimper at the tug, “‘s good—so good.”
he’s close—you can tell from the first twitch of his cock, from the way his pace is sloppier and his body slumps more weight into you, soft whines and low gasps filling your ear as you near your own high. your hips snap up to meet his, pushing him deeper, harder against you and hitting your spot perfectly.
it’s enough to make you sob his name, enough to make you squeeze just tight enough as you cum to make him crash into his own orgasm too—hot, thick ropes of cum filling you to the brim, spilling down the sides of your thighs and being fucked right back into you as he works you both through your highs without stopping.
“c-cumming,” he chokes—lyney is always so perfect like this, so pretty and magnetic when he falls apart right there against your body, with strained whines and broken calls of your name pushing past his lips as pleasure takes over every inch of his body.
you’re not sure when his performance starts, or if anyone’s nearby to listen, or if they’ve already witnessed this show you’ve put on yourselves—but you don’t care. you’re too busy cumming around his cock to think about that at the moment.
he slumps over you as he finishes at the same time you do, panting, and out of breath. you whimper and he shudders when he pulls out, cum oozing down the side of your leg—and you think he might just be glowing at the sight, grinning before he looks up and meets your gaze.
“how perfect,” he hums, “now you have a token to know i’m thinking of you during my performance.”
it’s show-stopping—that wink of his, charming and enough to make you throb between your legs all over again as he presses a sweet peck to your lips before adjusting his clothes.
you roll your eyes, opening your mouth respond before—
“lyney,” you hear lynette’s voice call from the distance, “what’s taking you so long? you have to be on soon.”
“be right there,” he calls, twirling his hat before setting it on his head, as he looks at you smugly, “i was just getting over my nerves, is all.”
contents. gn! reader, minors do not interact, hand + blowjobs, suguru manspreading bc he’s a whore, reader is teasing (and suguru shuts it down LOL), cum swallowing, not proof read i am too lazy
when suguru sits like that—legs spread out and arm resting against the back of the couch, you wonder for a moment if something is wrong with you.
how does someone simply sitting get you this riled up?
suguru seems to know what he’s doing too, doesn’t even blink when you boldly drop to your knees between his legs, doesn’t even question it when your fingers hook under the waistband of his pants and boxers as you look up at him pleadingly.
he grins, spreads his legs impossibly wider, lifts his hips up a bit so you can tug his pants down his hips and pool at his ankles. he’s half hard already—what a jerk, you think. he knows what he’s doing, always does. always knows how to make you give him what he wants willingly, without him even asking. in fact, he’s so good at getting what he wants, he convinces you it’s what you want too.
and right now, you really fucking want to taste his cock.
“this is a nice surprise,” he hums, “not that i’m complaining.”
“yeah,” you snort, running your thumb along his slit and collecting that small bead of pre cum that leaks from the tip, “you’re very clearly not complaining.”
he doesn’t even attempt to look embarrassed—just flashes you that grin accompanied by that chuckle all while he keeps an arm slung over the back of the couch. he looks good. it’s aggravating. it’s rewarding. it’s magnetizing. it’s everything all at once.
and fuck—you really, really need his cock in your mouth.
“mm, feels good, baby,” he sighs lowly when your hand smears the sticky pre cum along his hardened length, stroking slowly as his head falls back.
it’s blissed out, the look on his face. you’re barely even doing anything, too. you think for a moment that suguru might just have wanted this for a while now, that he had you trekking into the lion’s den without even so much as a plan.
all he had to do was sit, spread his legs a little, and exist as he is. the rest handles itself.
you decide in a moment that for once, suguru will have to ask—will have to tell you what he wants. you’ll make him, if you have to.
“yeah?” you whisper, leaning in and kissing his tip softly.
he twitches at that, in his cock and in his thigh and even in his upper body. it’s like the tingle that press of your lips leaves shoots up his spine into every nerve of his body. his breath hitches as he nods, closing his eyes and groaning when your tongue traces along the underside of his cock, right along that thick vein.
“yeah,” he breathes, the rise and fall of his chest a little more erratic now, “yeah that’s good. need more, though.”
“but suguru,” you hum, kissing his inner thigh. he bites back a whine when you leave his throbbing hard-on unattended, choosing to suck on the sensitive skin along his thighs instead. “see, you didn’t ask me to do this did you?” you blink up at him sweetly, watching as he gulps.
“no,” he grunts, clenching his jaw when your fingers traces his heavy balls, circling around them before cupping them softly. he moans as soon as you apply the slightest bit of pressure.
“exactly,” you say, “so that means i’m offering. you’re supposed to take what i give and be grateful.”
he doesn’t like that—the twitch of his eyebrows tells you that much. he looks down at you with a frown and his mouth opens to protest—but you have his dick in your reach, so he doesn’t get very far before you squeeze around the thick girth and make his head fall back down with a groan.
“f-fuck,” he gasps, thighs twitching as you toy with the tip, wrapping your fist around it as you squeeze. “f-fuck, need more, baby. c’mon,” he pleads.
“say please, sugu,” you bat your lashes. he raises his head and looks at you incredulously—you squeeze tighter around his tip, almost until it’s painful before he whimpers softly.
“fuck—kay, fine,” he grits, “please, baby?”
“please what?”
“are you seriously asking me what—ngh, sh-shit,” he rasps, cutting himself off as he bites his lip when you sink your teeth into his flesh again, marking that beautiful, flawless skin along his inner thighs with proof that he’s yours.
“tell me what you want, suguru,” you hum, rubbing his tense thigh soothingly, “humor me.”
“alright then,” he says lowly—the room is hot, the beads of sweat in his eyebrows gives it away. he takes his shirt off, pulling it over his head and tossing it somewhere before he’s laying his head back against the couch. “i want you to fuck me with your pretty little mouth, and i want you to make me cum. think you can do that, or am i gonna have to use that mouth myself?”
it’s like a challenge, the way he asks you. he’s not the slightest bit ashamed of his request, but you can feel heat rushing to your cheeks.
you should’ve known by now—what suguru wants, he always gets. whether he asks or not is entirely up to him. he decides to indulge you this time, it seems.
but next time, he might not be so generous.
“i always make you cum,” you huff. he chuckles—it’s that low, baritone ring that you love so much, sending a dull ache between your own legs.
“that’s true,” he agrees, setting a hand on your head. “you do always make me cum. what a sweet thing,” he hums, “why don’t you do it one more time?”
so you do. you wrap your lips around his flushed tip, swirling your tongue and gliding through his slit before taking him in your mouth until the head of his cock hits the back of your throat. he moans, hand on your head pushing you down just a slight bit more.
you can take more—you always take more.
you bob your head, letting your tongue press over that vein again as you fuck him with your mouth. it’s warm, it’s wet, it’s perfect and it’s all you—only you can ever make him feel this good.
he’s panting now, strings of broken curses and soft sighs of your name leaving his lips like they’ve been waiting for the chance to come out. his forehead is glistening with sweat, the messy clump of bangs sticking to his skin as he scrunches up his eyes and lets his mouth part for a low, drawn out groan.
“th-that’s it, baby,” he says through sharp gasps, “like that. feels so good when you do that.”
your hand wraps around the base of his cock, pumping what you can’t fit in your mouth, moving to his balls every now and then to fondle them as he snaps his hips up and ruts into your mouth. your lips glisten with a mix of his pre cum and your spit, and suguru thinks for a moment, in that split second that he opens his eyes and looks at you, that he’d give anything to kiss that messy little mouth of yours as you take him so well.
“should see yourself,” he mutters, “lookin’ so perfect for me. so messy.”
his knuckles are white, gripping the cushion of the couch tightly as he feels himself near closer and closer to falling off the edge, closer and closer to cumming right down your throat where he belongs.
“can’t even sit in peace,” he chuckles through breathy pants, “you’re jumping me every chance you get.”
you glare up at him, cupping his balls and squeezing tightly in response and making him gasp as his hips buck upwards, a low moan falling from that talkative mouth of his before you feel his cock twitch.
he’s close, so you bob your head over his length faster, humming around him to let the low vibrations push him over the edge. and it does—suguru cums with a choked ‘m cumming, baby before he gifts you with those breathy gasps you love so much, music to your ears as he fills your mouth and paints it white with thick, hot ropes of his release.
he fucks up into your mouth, riding out every wave of pleasure as drops of cum dribble from the sides of your lips, his mouth parted wide and his eyes shut tightly as his orgasm crashes over his body in tidal waves.
“baby,” he gasps, “fuck—‘s good. feels good,” you can hear him repeat the words faintly, focusing on swallowing every drop he spills onto your tongue.
and then he slumps, chest heaving in harsh breaths as you pop off of him, swallowing what’s left and staring up at him with wet lashes and glossy lips.
“you’re a mess too,” you giggle, eyeing his sweaty skin and messy bun and hazy eyes.
he cups your cheek, collects the trail of cum on the side of your mouth and pushes is back onto your tongue before leaning down and kissing you deeply, groaning lowly against your lips as he tastes himself.
“i think we can make a bigger mess,” he grins against your mouth, pulling you up gently to climb over and straddle his hips.
i started this at 4 am very horny for him. but then i got tired and i passed out and now it’s 3 pm and still i’m just as horny for him. being in love with geto suguru feels like being a teenage dude who’s chronically got a raging boner 24/7
also this is inspired by this:
look at my whore guys. my little mass murderer by day and slut in the sheets by night
