#1 choso glazer (and shoko)
and like #4 megumi glazer
#1 luka lover, defender, and apologist
20 now!!
she/they bi
sorry if im awkward, im not great at talking ☹️☹️
thanks for the tag klaudia ! i have been watching and rewatching avatar the last airbender ever since i was a kid, that and probably precure my first anime(s) :D
@hotties4gojo @hayajiku @hazyseason
why is no one talking abt ivan at the end of round 1?
idk if people are talking about it, i just haven't seen anything. and with how popular ivan is, i thought people would be feining over this lol even though it's just the first episode of zomst so far. this post doesn't really have any substance, just wanted to see if anyone had any thoughts yet, even as someone who doesn't favor ivan as much as majority of the fanbase.
some cool things, he's so cute i love how he finished the whistle tune of mizi's little bunny song thing in the end of the episode (the best friends EVER), like those teasers at the ends of episodes that vivimeng always does. zombie ivan with the scar things (?) in chains already, i'm excited to see his design later . also so excited for the next round that'll hopefully flesh out a lot more of this world in general!
ᝰ.ᐟ choso begging you to squeeze him with your thighs while eating you out ⸝⸝ 18+ mdni
"ah—cho, please—"
the words broke apart in your throat, dissolving into a ragged, breathless moan that echoed softly in the quiet bedroom. you gripped the damp bedsheets on either side of your head, your knuckles turning white as his tongue traced a slow, agonizingly deep stroke right over your clit.
he was relentless. he had been down there for what felt like hours, his heavy, rhythmic hums vibrating right through your skin every time you cried out his name.
"f-fuck—feels so good," you gasped, your hips lifting off the mattress instinctively, chasing the friction of his mouth. "right there—please..."
choso didn't speak. he only let out a low, dark growl of approval against your wet cunt, his large hands sliding up the insides of your thighs to hold you open wider. the deliberate, heavy rhythm of his mouth was blurring your vision, driving you past your absolute limit.
every lick was perfectly calculated, heavy and soaked with intention, until a particularly sharp, blinding wave of pleasure rippled straight through your spine.
your body reacted before your mind could register it. seeking an anchor against the overwhelming sensation, your thighs clamped shut instinctively, trapping his head securely between them.
choso let out a muffled, surprised sound against your folds, the sudden restriction cutting off his breath.
panicking, you immediately opened your legs back up, your breath hitching as your face burned with embarrassment. "oh my god, baby, i'm so sorry, i didn't mean to—i wasn't thinking—"
"don't," he cut you off, his voice raspy, deeper, and rougher than you had ever heard it. he looked up, his dark eyes dilated so wide they looked almost entirely black, a faint, dark flush creeping up his neck and dusting his cheekbones.
he gripped the insides of your knees, his fingers digging into your skin with a possessiveness that made your blood run hot. "shit—do it again."
"w-what? but i—"
"please," he begged, the word slipping out with a desperate, breathless edge that made your stomach flip. his chest was heaving. "squeeze me again. oh fuck—just like that, baby. lock your legs."
the raw hunger in his expression made it impossible to refuse. slowly, hesitantly, you brought your thighs back together, locking him in place once more, applying a firm, steady pressure against his neck.
a low, ragged groan escaped him, vibrating directly against your sensitive bud. he buried his face back into you, his tongue working with a newfound, frantic intensity that completely derailed your thought process. "harder," he mumbled against your pussy, his hands sliding up to your hips, fingers bruisingly tight as he anchored you. "squeeze harder, baby."
you complied, tightening your hold, completely overwhelmed by the blinding intensity of it. you were caught so deeply in the throes of your own approaching climax that the world narrowed down to just the pressure of your legs and the wicked, relentless motion of his mouth.
because of the sensory overload, you didn't notice the subtle, rhythmic motion beneath you at first. you didn't realize that with every tight squeeze of your thighs restricting his airflow, choso was heavily, desperately humping his clothed length straight into the mattress. he was completely losing himself in the friction, his hips rolling in a tight, frantic pattern against the sheets, riding the intoxicating sensation of being choked by you.
your climax hit like a freight train, your walls pulsing violently around his tongue as a loud cry left your lips. you squeezed him tight, your thighs locking like a vice as you rode the wave.
right as you peaked, choso let out a choked, broken sound. his whole body went rigid beneath you. his hips gave one last, hard, desperate shove into the mattress, his fingers digging so deeply into your hips it was almost painful. he trembled violently, his breath catching in a long, shuddering gasp as he buried his face entirely in your thigh, hiding himself away as he spent.
as the sparks in your vision began to fade and your breathing slowed, you gradually loosened the grip of your legs. choso slumped forward, resting his forehead against your stomach, his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow pants.
it was only then, as the quiet returned to the room, that you noticed the heavy, uneven thumping of his heart against your leg, and the distinct, damp heat pressing through the fabric of his trousers right where he had been pinning himself to the bed.
you blinked down at him, your hand coming up to rest in his dark hair. "cho...?"
he didn't move for a long moment, completely spent, his shoulders still twitching slightly. when he finally looked up, his face was completely flushed, eyes heavy and hooded with a profound, dazed satisfaction. he swallowed hard, a sheepish but utterly dark look in his eyes as he realized you had figured it out. he hadn't even touched himself; he had finished purely from the friction of the bed and the suffocating pressure of your thighs.
"told you," he murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper as he leaned up to kiss your jaw, completely unbothered by his own ruined state. "i liked it."
WOAH like 2 hours ago i had a realyl good idea for a post and i was like "ahahaha everyone will laugh at this especially because i don't post a lot so it'll be funny bc its like one of my only posts" and i forgot so im just gonna say instead ummmmummm ummm umm ummmmm uhhh ummm someone should buy me a chihiro rokuhira figure yeah bye
── sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs :: you try getting off to porn one day, but are cut short by two nuisances interrupting you. Under their watchful eyes, you quit masturbation — but what happens when you become too pent up to handle? (5.4k words)
The thing about having an overactive imagination was the fact you needed virtually no visual stimulation to get yourself off. All you had to do was lie there, conjure up the image of hands running down your body, and you were good to go.
But curiosity took a hold of you one day.
What if you were to … watch porn for once?
The thought was a dangerous one. You knew once you went into that rabbit hole, there was no coming back. But even though you were aware of the possible issues, you still plugged in your earphone one night and opened Twitter.
You didn't have the faintest idea on where to begin, blindly searching up 'porn' in the search bar.
There was no doubt about it — you got plenty of results back, enough to make you gasp aloud and fling your phone across the bed. Your earphones popped out of place and a fierce heat blooming across your cheeks. The four second clip of a man sloppily jerking off looped on repeat.
With a hand to your mouth, you shuffled forwards and grabbed your phone again. A different video played, and you settled against the pillows propping you up against the headboard.
This time — you checked the tags of the videos that came after. Clicked on a few. Cocked your head in confusion.
"PAWG…? Goonette," you mumbled to yourself, entranced by the new world you had exposed yourself to. The terminology was foreign, but by the time you were ready to get yourself off, having worked up quite the appetite for an orgasm — you knew them like the back of your hand.
And so you leaned back at last, thighs parting as the sensation of your hand slipping between eased you into relaxation. Your thumb hovered a thumbnail, pressed down.
Lo and behold — tentacle porn.
"Are you really getting of to that?"
"Hush, Ryomen. I want to see if she touches herself."
"Pah! Of course she will, can't you smell—"
You let out a piercing shriek. The sound of two distinct voices, one on either shoulder filled your ears. "Nonono, get off of me, get off of me—"
"Woah, now," the one adorned in white yelped, clutching onto your earlobe. His white wings ruffled against your skin as he hung on for dear life. "That's no way to treat an angel, is it?"
The apparently named 'Ryomen' scoffed, barely moving an inch as you swiped your hands over your shoulders in a poor attempt to rid yourself of the intruders. "No one gives a shit about your kind, Satoru. Now stop panicking, woman. We aren't going anywhere."
"Please go somewhere else. This is majorly freaking me out right now."
You were hyperventilating, eliciting a groan from 'Ryomen'. Satoru had fluttered his way onto your right shoulder again, peering at your face as you tried making sense of all of this. "What, don't tell me you're new to the whole concept of having an angel and a devil on your shoulder."
That earned the white-haired man a sidelong glare from you. His body was adorned in a silky robe, the right side of his body exposed. There was a certain mischievous look in Satoru's eyes, however — which led you to believe that there was more to the being than what lingered on the surface.
"No. N-no, I'm not," you murmured, rubbing at your temples. "But you're not— I'm not supposed to see you."
"Who said?" 'Ryomen' retorted, scowling up at you. The devil was also wearing a robe, but it only covered his lower half, whereas Satoru's looped around his shoulders. Strands of pink, dishevelled hair stuck up from his head in messy angles, and for some peculiar reason — he had four arms and four eyes.
You exhaled slowly and slumped back, trying to reason with the debacle. "You have a point but… this is not normal. Can't you go back to, I don't know, being invisible?"
"No can do, pretty lady," Satoru grinned. "We want to watch."
"Watch what?"
"Watch you masturbate, of course! That devil Sukuna over there has been waiting for a moment like this," Satoru cackled, rubbing his two hands together. Sukuna nodded in agreement, and it was at that moment you wondered who really was the devil between the two.
"No can do, this is my private time. Go back to where you were before."
"We have always been here," Sukuna chimed in, his pointed black tail swirling behind him. "You were simply unaware this entire time."
You froze in your place. Then, your face paled.
This… entire time?
As in, through your failed first dates? Through that one time your ex Naoya rubbed at the crease of your upper thigh instead of your clit? Through the numerous times you've gotten off to the thought of seemingly nothing?
You shrieked again, Satoru joining you as you flopped onto your stomach. Your pillow heaved under your weight as you almost sobbed into it out of sheer embarrassment. Sukuna, sick of both of your antics, tugged at a stray piece of hair. "Get up. Where is your dignity?"
"Gone," you wailed, nails digging into the cotton. "Gone like my will to live."
Satoru cooed, stroking the side of your neck and ignoring the way you shrank under his tiny touch. "Theeere, there. I don't know why you're so upset. There's nothing we haven't seen before."
"That's the problem! Oh, I wish you hadn't revealed yourself to me."
"Quit your sulking and get used to it," Sukuna grunted, now peering inside of your ear — just because he could.
You huffed, defeated. Why now, out of all possible times did they choose to appear — when you were at your most vulnerable? Did everyone have their own set of angels and demons? There were simply too many questions, and some you didn't want to know the answer to.
Satoru was still stroking your neck, pleased to see that you had calmed down somewhat. "Now, are you going to, y'know… get back to what you're doing?"
"Reeaal subtle." Sukuna shook his head.
"No. Not until you've both disappeared. Until then, I'm not touching myself."
"Bit dramatic, no?" Satoru sighed, clearly in disappointment. No pussy today, it seemed. "If we go away after you're done, will you touch yourself?"
Sukuna grinned inwardly at the lie.
…
"You promise?"
"I promise. I'm an angel, aren't I?" Satoru murmured deceptively soft into your right ear, lulling you into a false state of comfort. You nodded, chewing on your lower lip as you grabbed your phone and leaned back yet again. Sukuna was elated, leaning forward to look over your left shoulder. Then, his face soured.
"Tentacles," he spat. "My natural enemy."
"What, don't tell me an octopus kicked you out of heaven," you snorted, unplugging your earphones out of the port. Satoru tightened his lips, stifling a laugh.
"Do not bring that up around me, insolent girl."
"She struck a nerve, did she?" Satoru taunted, leering at the devil.
The two went back and forth for a while as you willed your heart to slow down. The initial shock of the two beings had worn off somewhat, but there was still a part of you that was so terribly conflicted — refusing to accept anything beyond the explainable boundaries of science.
Click, click!
"You think too much, seriously." Satoru snapped his fingers in front of you in an attempt to grab your attention. You glanced down, then at Sukuna. "This world came from plants and berries, and somehow we have Bluetooth — yet you want to question the existence of two beings who have existed in religious scriptures for millennia?"
There was no arguing when he put it that way. Even the gruff Sukuna seemed to agree, nodding thoughtfully. "Well put, pest."
"Thanks, sweetie."
"Okay, okay. Fine, you can watch but you gotta disappear after," you bargained, reminding them of Satoru's promise.
"Deal," they both said in unison.
With a swallow, you played the video. Hentai, it seemed to be — with a female lead already gagging around a slimy tentacle as another wiggled its way into her drooling cunt. She was stuffed full a beat later, eyes rolled back until the whites showed for dramatic effect.
Schlick-schlick-schlick!
As if having forgotten about the three pairs of eyes on you, your fingers were already circling around your clit, toes clenching as you stared at your phone — hypnotised.
"Look at her go," Satoru whispered, loud enough for Sukuna to hear. The latter's face screwed up a tad, in pleasure rather than annoyance. As if the mere sight of you making yourself feel good was getting him off.
Which it was.
There was a movement, two under Sukuna's pale robes. His lower cock twitched, followed by the upper one — until both stood tall, hot and leaking.
Satoru was warm in the face, refusing to let go of skin-on-skin contact with you. He leaned against the side of your throat, pretending as if he wasn't peppering the flesh with soft kisses that were too small for you to notice.
"Hah— shit," you mumbled sluggishly, letting your head fall back with a dull thud against your headboard.
One of your fingers slipped in, turning into two and causing your shoulders to tense in response. With a frantic rhythm, you thrust your fingers in 'n out of you — a chorus of garbled mewls leaving you
Safe to say, the hentai was long forgotten. The real show was you, and both the angel and devil were entranced.
"Atta girl," Sukuna grunted, eyes growing lidded when your hips jerked into your hand. "Keep fucking yourself like that for me."
"For us," Satoru croaked, but not before throwing the other man a glare.
You nodded, thumbing at your clit again before renewing your efforts inside of yourself. They watched as your eyes screwed shut, fingers desperately searching for that one spot inside of you that'd make you—
"Gah—"
"Crook your fingers now. Keep pressing."
Sukuna guided you through the fierce orgasm, Satoru having chosen to nip at your neck. Your cunt spasmed uncontrollably, body wracked with unbearable pleasure that sparked behind your eyelids.
After the endorphin rush had finished its round through your body, you lay there utterly spent. The two on your shoulders had enough of a mind to not jerk off in fears that you'd scream again — but they were undoubtedly pent up, ready to stick their cocks into either you or each other.
"Yeaaah, that was something. Phew," Satoru laughed, like he hadn't been on the verge of rutting his boner against the dip of your collarbone. "We should do that again sometime."
You grumbled, brows furrowed as you pulled your fingers from out of your panties and cleaned your hand on some wipes you kept on your bedside table. Satoru gasped in awe, eyeing the wetness that coated your pruning fingers.
"Fat chance. You promised you'd leave, so leave."
"If you thought he was serious, you are greatly mistaken," Sukuna said bluntly. You turned to look at him, one corner of your lips lifting in what resembled a grimace.
"You're kidding."
"No, I'm not," Satoru beamed, as if the halo on top of his head was nothing but a farce.
"You're a pain in my ass, both of you," you snapped, hirling the balled-up wad of tissue into your waste basket across the room. Satoru merely hummed, quite pleased at the fact he managed to draw an orgasm out of you under his tactical manipulation.
Sukuna adjusted the robe over his crotch, not even bothering to hide his twin erections. "Not yet," he promised, for real this time. "Now go wash your hands, they smell like the tentacles you got off to."
"Shut the fuck up."
════════════════
It had been days, weeks, centuries, since you had gotten off since that day. That bastard of an angel was no worse than Sukuna, slithering around his words like the snake that got the demon kicked out of Paradise itself.
"Touch yourself," he'd coo in your ear. "You know you want to."
You would vehemently deny his allegations, turning to Sukuna for help. But he proved to be useless as well — dragging the tip of his forked tail down against your collarbone until you were twitching in mild discomfort.
"So what if he wants a show? You have given us one already, may as well give another. Slutty girl."
You wanted to tear your hair out.
That promise Satoru lingered in the back of your mind, broken as the two became a permanent fixture in your life despite your protests. At work, they'd run their tiny mouths, egging you on to get off. Stick a pen inside, Satoru would snicker. Sukuna would tell him to shut up, before offering to dive between your legs himself.
There had been one too many occasions where your coworkers would walk in you cursing at yourself, to which you'd have to laugh off the odd behaviour with a shitty excuse. "Flies. Headache, right?"
Disregarding the social aspects of your new dilemma, you also had no privacy. Using the restroom or even taking a shower proved to be a task more difficult than it should've been, with flirtatious comments thrown your way without a second thought.
"What big breasts you have," Satoru gasped, ogling over the front of your shoulder. "Are they for me?"
"No, me. Half-wit," Sukuna scowled, looking at you to see if you'd agree.
"They're for no one, actually. Now silence yourselves before I attempt to drown the two of you." You couldn't, you found out — after almost taking yourself out in the process.
A shame, indeed.
Somehow, your biggest worry had to be the fact that you hadn't masturbated in a while. Prior to the appearance of Satoru and Sukuna, you were able to get off a few times a week. Now, you were face to face with a dry spell that seemed like it wouldn't go any time soon — unless you gave in and touched yourself regardless if they were watching or not.
You were prone to snapping more at them both, and Satoru spoke out one day, confirming both of their suspicions about you.
"Jeez, someone's antsy that they haven't had time to stroke their pretty clit in a while."
"It would be a lot easier if you just went at it," Sukuna retorted. "You bought a cucumber, no? Just use that."
"My lack of apparatus isn't the problem," you bit back, flopping onto your bed. "I'm able to orgasm well enough with just my fingers."
"Yeah, we know," Satoru sang, reminding you yet again of how they had always been here at your side — even when you were masturbating alone.
Sukuna pondered for a second, seating himself atop your shoulder, legs dangling down. "Are you getting performance anxiety? We can look away."
His words were followed by a noise of protest from the white-haired angel, who was adamant on seeing your face screw up in pleasure. You shook your head, thighs pressing together. The desperation was becoming unbearable at this rate.
"I can't get off when you're both here, watching like two little voyeurs who have positively ruined my life," you vented, half sitting up now. "Every little thing I do is turned into something sexual and I can't have a moment's peace."
"…okay, but you literally moaned sliding in a sausage between a hot dog bun yesterday—"
"That is irrelevant."
"Is not."
"Is too."
Sukuna groaned, rubbing at his temples with two of his four hands. He saw a simple solution, yet neither of you two were able to shut up for a single moment. So he cleared his throat and spoke, voice bellowing louder than you had ever heard it before, commanding both of your attention. Satoru swooned. You gulped.
"Now if both of you are done, I would like to propose a way to amend your ... sexual frustrations."
He paused for dramatic effect, causing your face to fall into a deadpan state. "On with it."
"We both fuck you."
…
"And how do you propose you both do that, exactly?" You snapped at the devil. "Because that second get down there, my pussy is swallowing you both whole and you're getting lost in there."
Satoru sighed, eyes fluttering shut at the prospect. "Wouldn't mind that, pretty lady."
"Quiet."
Sukuna went on. "I mean, we could both show you. As long as you are up for it."
"Never. Not in a million years."
Satoru shrugged, leaning back on his hands. He knew all he had to do was do a little sweet talking, and you'd be putty right under his angelic little hands. "Suit yourself, baby. But… is it so wrong of us to want to make you feel good? To give you that orgasm that you've been craving for so, so long?"
You didn't answer, slumping against the warm sheets.
"I know you want it. Just let us take over, get rid of that silly ache between your thighs."
"You are far too easy on her," Sukuna rumbled, joining in on the fun. His breath was warm against the shell of your ear, causing your own breathing to deepen. "I am sure she would rather listen to how much I want to ravage her, stuff her full with my twin cocks and leave her screaming—"
"Tch. No thanks," Satoru butted in. "You have to be gentle with a fine thing like her. Make her sing out instead of scream, you brute."
Meanwhile, you were too busy getting hot in the face. You tugged at the collar of your tee, denying the fact that your pussy was probably clenching their names in morse code.
B r e e d m e … she seemed to say.
The devil and the angel noticed your silence, casting each other a knowing look.
"So what's the verdict? Ready to see what we have in store for you?"
With that, you nodded — albeit somewhat reluctantly. Curiosity seemed to win after all.
The slight weight on your left and right shoulders seemed to disappear. It was odd how any sense of relief you should've felt meagre, and you could only blink in the emptiness of your bedroom.
Before they returned again, of course. Bigger, better. The mattress creaked, and the sound of feathers ruffling grew louder.
The pair loomed in front of you, rather predatory grins on either of their faces. Sukuna's muscles seemed to bulge out, a whoosh of air leaving his flared nostrils as he seemed to flex the taut skin. Satoru was slimmer in comparison, but by no means small. His feathers spread out before him in full, ample pecs rippling with the movement.
"Wasn't expecting this, were you?"
Your jaw sagged. Not only were the men at full size, but their voices had changed from that incessant, tinny buzz in your ear to something much deeper, taunting.
Now, you weren't easy by any means — but the speed at which your legs spread was obscenely quick.
"Eager little thing," Sukuna crooned first, situating himself between your parted thighs. He was still standing, and his sheer height forced you to lay down on your back. Two of his four arms braced the sides of your head, and no porn could amount to the sheer lust present on the devil's face at that moment. He had been waiting a long while, and he wasn't about to shrink until he finally had a taste of the sweetness between your thighs.
Of course, so did Satoru. The angel's face turned, and he attempted to barge Sukuna out of the way to no avail. "Fuck— move, you oaf. Are we not sharing?"
"She has two holes, I have two cocks. You are deluded if you think you are getting a taste of her cunt any time soon."
"Sure," Satoru mumbled, moving around the bed and clambering onto it. He sat gracefully on his knees, manoeuvring your head onto his lap as he smiled down at you. "Hey there, sweet thing."
"…Hi."
"You want both of us, right? Tell me it's not just him."
You opened your mouth. closed it, felt something long twitch underneath your head. Suddenly, everything felt right, as if you were where you were meant to be with your angel behind you and your devil in front of you. It was only inevitable that you felt this way sooner or later — after all, they had been with you for your entire life.
A shaky sigh left you. "Yeah," you uttered. But that wasn't enough for the duo.
"Say it with conviction, little one," Sukuna hissed. "Say it as if you mean it. As if you would die without our cocks bulging you out from the inside."
"Please, 'kuna. Want your cocks in me," you began to whine, tone taking on a higher pitch you didn't mean to adopt. Satoru thumbed at your face, stroking your cheeks and raking his fingers through your hair — like he wasn't leaking under you.
He shook his head, speaking up. "And not mine? You wound me, precious."
"N-no, please. Need both of you in me. Please."
"Greedy thing."
And then everything shifted. Your head was flat against the bed, Satoru having straddled your face after shifting his robes to the side. Easy access, he claimed, giving you the full view of his smooth balls and veined cock — long and stiff to the touch. His tip was flushed, dripping steadily over your parted lips. "Say 'ah', pretty."
You opened your mouth, willing your throat to relax as Satoru slipped in. He let out a breathy groan, head tipping back and halo tilting on its axis once you hollowed your cheeks around his aching cock. Sukuna watched with greedy, red eyes — wanting the same treatment.
Satoru looked down fondly, hips moving on their own accord as you swallowed around his cock like it was almost nothing. You gagged here and there, throat constricting when he pushed in too deep. "Ah, sorry. You can h-handle it, can't you, pretty?"
A wet gurgle left you, your body rocking as Satoru used your mouth to get himself off. Sukuna was busy shucking off your undergarments, muttering to himself about how wet your panties were in his grip.
There your pussy was, bared out in the open and glistening with the result of the pair's dirty talk. Sukuna unconsciously licked his lips, lowering himself to a puny human's level just so that he could have a taste.
A fat, wet stripe of his tongue lathered your pussy in his saliva, causing you to jerk at the sudden sensation. The movement lodged Satoru's cock further down your throat, the bulge visible for anyone to see. He keened, whimpering as you slurped down what you could manage — breathing heavily through your nose. "Gonna cum if she keeps this up, ngh…"
"Already, Satoru?" Sukuna chuckled throatily between gulps. He was eating you out with vigour, spitting onto your pussy before diving back in. His tongue plunged in and out of you, lapping up each and every ounce of wetness you had to offer. "I did not take you for a premature ejaculator."
"Sh-shut up," the angel keened in response, covering his face with a large hand. His wings ruffled, as if imitating the twitches of his cock. Sukuna found the sight begrudgingly endearing, peering up through thick lashes at his partner in crime. Then he dipped his head down, letting out a huff of laughter at the shrill squeal that left you.
Sukuna had plans, which was why he was kissing your puckered hole. It was so utterly debauched, the way he circled around your rim before pushing inside with even the slightest warning. Two fingers scissored your pussy open with a squelch, digging around like you had done the first time Satoru and Sukuna had manifested in their physical form. Meanwhile, another two hands kept your thighs open, and a third joined in on prepping your ass.
"M-mmph!" You spluttered around Satoru's thrusting cock. Your holes tightened and loosened sporadically at the foreign intrusion, which you couldn't decide if you enjoyed or not. Ultimately, the sensation of the dual penetration had your cries of protest dulling down to something more husky, more receptive. "Tho pfthfull—"
"Can't understand a word you are saying, woman," Sukuna tutted, slapping meanly at your thigh. You winced at the pain-turned-pleasure blooming across your flesh. Satoru had your back though, kind of.
"Easy on the poor girl," he somewhat purred through his ragged pants. His hand was loosely on top of the bulge in your throat, hips still rocking feverishly. "How is she meant to speak when you're ravishing her cunt with your tongue?"
Sukuna pulled off of you with a resounding pop, tongue darting out to clean whatever wetness he could reach that had accumulated on the lower half of his face. "You sound jealous, foolish angel. Would you rather have my tongue in your tight little pucker instead?"
"You are vile," Satoru spat, stuttering through an orgasm. Sukuna watched, entranced as your throat worked to swallow each drop of the angel's seed. The dirty talk proved to be too much for him to handle, causing him to bow above you as he rode out the aftershocks of his sudden orgasm.
He pulled out of your mouth eventually, mumbling out a weak apology for the abuse he had laid on your poor throat.
"Compensate me for that, by the way. I think I hurt the pretty thing," Satoru sighed, stroking your forehead dramatically. You coughed, dizzy as the men stripped you of all clothing. An onslaught of stimulation made you shudder, breasts moulding to the shape of their greedy hands. Your back was against Satoru's firm chest, and Sukuna had taken it upon himself to sandwich you in between them both.
"Had you not cum at the thought of me eating you out, she wouldn't be hurt," Sukuna simpered, leaning over your shoulder. You gripped his biceps, eyes wide as the men 'bantered'. They were nose to nose, breaths mingling with each other until—
mwah!
You gawked at the sound, the sight of Satoru initiating a cheeky kiss first with the devil. Sukuna withdrew, shocked, before diving back in with double the enthusiasm. Lips collided. Teeth gnashed against each other, a sudden power play initiating where there was no clear victor.
There would've been complaints at the lack of attention you were seeing if not for how arousing this all was, seeing two contrasting beings make out sloppily, until webs of spit connected them both when they separated. Satoru pressed forward, chasing the strings until he was kissing Sukuna once more. "M-mmh…"
You leaned forward yourself, ass pushing back into Satoru's crotch as you nipped at Sukuna's throat — leaving a plethora of hickies he'd have fun showing off the next day. A guttural grunt left him when they finally broke apart, dazed as he focused his lidded eyes back on you.
"Won't you give me it now? I've been so patient," you pleaded, interrupted when Satoru turned your face to meet his.
He pecked you teasingly, squishing your cheeks with his set of long fingers. "Be specific now. Tell your dear Satoru what you needed from me properly." Sukuna nodded, disrobing. You tried to look, but Satoru's hand kept you in place. "Say it."
"Give me your cocks. Fill me up, any… anything. Please, I've been waiting," you continued, almost tearing up at how painfully empty you felt all of a sudden.
And then, a sudden pressure, smooched at your pussy. It glided up to your clit first, then back down before pushing in. A choked gasp tore out of your throat, nails digging into Sukuna's arms, shoulders, back as his upper cock pushed in. At the same time, Satoru eased his tip into your ass, a new sensation that had you wailing into the crook of Sukuna's neck.
"Shh, you can take it, can't you?" The angel rasped, shaking as your virgin hole tried milking him dry. He wasn't a cruel angel, mostly — which was why he waited, why he didn't push in any further. You nodded to the best of your ability, holding on for dear life.
Sukuna didn't wait, however. Your pussy was greedy, swallowing up his length which definitely had a thicker girth than Satoru's did. The veins were plump, angry as they bullied their way inside you. The devil's lower cock rubbed between the sensitive space between both of your holes — but you barely noticed when Satoru pushed the slightest bit deeper inside of you.
"Stop prodding my dick with yours," he breathed, fondling your breasts with the little space he had between you and Sukuna's flushed bodies. "You'll give a man ideas."
"You only getting ideas after your lips were against mine? You jest, surely," Sukuna questioned, perplexed. He thrust into you at a languid pace, the tendons of his neck stretching as he rolled his shoulders back to prop you up against him properly. Satoru merely shrugged, peppering your bare shoulders with affectionate little pecks.
"Talk about this when we're done fucking our lady. Look at her, sulking at the lack of attention."
"S-stop, 'm not sulking," you denied, folded in half now as the men fucked you at the same time. All words were thoroughly pushed out of you, pleasure brought to the forefront of your mind — until your eyelids drooped and the soft uh's that left you were the only thing you could bring yourself to say.
"The look on your face is rather— shit, erotic," Sukuna teased, throat bobbing when your pussy convulsed with an impending orgasm. "You're close, I can feel it."
"Already?" Satoru let out a quiet whine, coaxing another inch inside of your ass. "I haven't even bottomed out yet."
Sukuna had, though — balls slapping against the curve of your rear as he fucked you to the very hilt. The wet patch of hair at the base grazed against yours, the devil's hips gyrating in a circular movement. It stimulated your clit, making your muscles tense and relax repeatedly.
Satoru was shaking his head, almost to the point of tears when your ass clenched, refusing to let go. "Gonna cum, baby. Gonna cum in this sweet hole 'n lick it aaalll up after. You want that, baby? You want me to—"
"Quit your rambling and make her cum, fool," Sukuna gritted through his teeth, thumb rolling your clit with purpose. Satoru huffed, but eventually relented — sucking at your earlobe as his hips plapped against your ass. "She's there, she's nearly there. Theeere we go, see?"
"Cumming, ohmygod—!" You squealed, toes curled and a burst of moisture spraying Sukuna right in the chest. His pert nipples glistened with your wetness. It dripped down his chiseled stomach, all the way down until it splattered down both of the men's cocks and onto the ruined sheets below.
Only then did Satoru spill a hot load inside of you, eyes rolling back like he had been possessed.
It triggered Sukuna's orgasm, who had bit down onto your throat to hold his husky groans back — to no avail. Ropes of cum, bitter to the taste, filled you up from both ends. Cursed creampies, the devil would joke, had he been in an appropriate state of mind, but your pussy was hot and Sukuna was a goner for the way you clung onto him like a vice.
You didn't know who recovered first, only dimly aware the three of you were lying down. Satoru was barely conscious anyway, mumbling about how good you felt around him. Sukuna hovered over you, all four eyes on his release spurting out of you in thick globs. It took everything in him to look away, to not fuck you again when you were so clearly spent.
"Apologies, dove. I will have you cleaned."
But his words fell on deaf ears as unconsciousness gripped you tight — much like the way you clung onto Sukuna's hands, refusing to let go.
════════════════
"This one?"
"No, put that other one on, the one with the— yeah."
"Again, you glorified chicken? Homosexuals do not arouse me."
You sighed for the nth time that night, cosied up beside the two nuisances that had admittedly made your life much more interesting. Sukuna fucked you. So did Satoru. Sometimes they fucked you at the same time. Hell, they even fucked each other.
Long weeks had passed since your first time with the two, and honestly? Despite your initial apprehension, all of the embarrassment you felt had disappeared, and they no longer felt like a nuisance in your life.
Letting them introduce you to a new world of pleasure was certainly the best decision you had made in a long time — and all it took was a little bit of tentacle porn to get that started.
Likes, reblogs, and comments appreciated. Thank you for reading <3
My adorable 4nakt omg omg assuming this series has an association with flowers because florentem also translates into blooming or flowering and flowers are so prevalent, this one will either have a premise around childhood, connections, blooming relationships, and finding abundance in each other (But given the flower roots on their faces, there will still be an expression of pain starting from there or its just more emphasis for their connection.) And or Death and rebirth, with Karma/Karmic cycle elements.
Not sure how it'd look in comparison to the medical horror theme of Album Vol.1, but whatever it ends up being, I'm excited for the final product 🎶
His special person, the love of his life. The one he would let his walls down for, literally. He gives you every chance to tear him open and leave him for dead, he turns his back accepting that if you stab him, he probably deserves it.
He was weak for you. Vulnerable.
You knew this. He knew it. Everyone knew it.
It was just a fact that Gojo Satoru would consistently and quickly drop his infinity, just for you. Anytime you reached out, even the most menial of your fingers brushing, all of it was a choice on Satoru's end.
A choice to let you touch him. A choice to let you love him.
So it hurt even more, when he chose to stop.
It was a meaningless fight, now that you thought about it. One that had intensified to screaming and petty remarks that added fuel to the fire. It wasn't pretty, and it wasn't the first time.
Ofcourse, dating the strongest was no easy feat. Arguments happened. But this one? It was different. It left a scar. You had said something, you could barely register the words before they spilled out from your mouth. Barely register the way Satoru’s eyes flickered in betrayal, fear and hurt.
“I get why Suguru left you.”
Those words left your mouth and hit you all the same. You were only left panting after you said them, Satoru's eyes on you finally sinking in, finally pushing through the haze of anger you didn't even know was there.
Eyes widening, you reach out to touch him.
Only to be met with Satoru flinching away, a cold, invisible wall separating the two of you.
Horror sinks into your gut, the ugly thing crushing any anger you had left. You haven't felt infinity ever since you and Satoru met. For his heart to be so hurt, so heartbroken that it had instinctively put up infinity because it registered you.. as a threat.
“Satoru, I didn't mean-”
“Don’t.”
His usual spark was gone, the spark that had kept you warm turned into an icy cold glare before he had turned around and retreated into the bedroom. You didn’t know what was worse, the quiet that followed, or the barely audible sobbing that you heard later that night.
You were no longer an exception.
A.N. Funny how whenever i post angst its always gojo
r/GayGayHomosexualGay: i (23) didn’t wear a bra today and my girlfriend (23) decided to go over every speed bump and pothole at mach 12???? what to do to stop this homosexual NONSENSE
⋆˚꩜｡ f1 driver fem!gojo x fem!reader | MDNI 18+, wlw, highly suggestive content, NSFW jokes & humor, PURE CRACK, modern au, perv!gojo prevails, we love you fem gojo 🩵
a/n: drabble based off of this request :3 this is pure nonsense and depravity and it was fun as FAWKKK to write 😋 YOOOO IM A COP 🚨🚔 UR UNDER ARREST… BIGGEST TITS I SEEN LOL… 🚨 boops BIG ONE! masterlist.
The night is warm and thick in a way that pulses, air scented faintly with the remnants of an earlier sprinkle, and it’s the perfect vibe for a late night drive. There’s no pinpointed destination in mind, the impromptu joyride itself more about fun, about Gabriela by Katseye cranked low beneath the chatter that winds through the belly of the beast, and how the world blurs when Gojo Satoru, champion racer extraordinaire, sits behind the wheel.
(Regardless, though, to her, every drive was an excuse to flaunt her mastery over vehicles.)
Her favorite car, a baby-blue Corvette she bought because it flatters her eyes (she absolutely has to find herself in everything, thank you very much for asking), gleams like a mini supernova in motion, every line of its body slick and smeared by speed and hungry for asphalt. It purrs like a big ol’ greedy feline itching for a photo op beneath her heel, a low and bass-heavy thrum that always smacks an exhilarated grin on Satoru’s face.
She leans into her seat with an air that screams bougie, bad, bossy, rich as fuck— and most importantly, tight clean pussy— with her blue eyes fixed on the road with a mix of arrogance and glee.
Satoru looks the part of the untouchable Formula 1 champion; shifting gears with the kind of casual precision only someone born for the track could manage, white shoulder-length wolfcut tousled by the wind that whips in through the open window. Her hair glistens a silver-cobalt beneath the passing lights, like comets were carefully threaded through each individual strand. One hand drapes carelessly around the wheel while the other rubs lazy circles over the squish of your thigh.
Next to her, you (her pookie pie princess) sit curled up in the passenger seat, your collarbones and the lazy pour of your cleavage into your tank top glossed by the neon billboards streaking by in a race against Satoru that they’re sorely losing.
Much to her chagrin, you keep swatting her hand away whenever it creeps towards the apex of your thighs. Cruel and unusual punishment. A little harmless DJing on the road wouldn’t kill anyone; hell, you’ve let her do it before. Multiple times.
You hadn’t bothered with a jacket, much less a bra when Satoru proposed you go out for a mindless drive, maybe a snack run and a few other pitstops thrown in while you were at it, and opted to stay in the thin top you were comfortably lounging on the couch in. After all, the time is ticking closer and closer to midnight. No one in their right mind wears a bra this late. Your loungewear is a casual, free indulgence and display of comfort in front of the woman that’s explored your body in hundreds of positions and places.
(Doggy, reverse cowgirl while you bounced on her strap, missionary, prone bone, with her head between your thighs, 69, the jackopose she practically sent you tumbling into while trying to 69 on the couch, while scissoring, on the kitchen counter, on your bed, in the shower, in Satoru’s private jet, in a packed club that you got kicked out of, on a Ferris wheel, in her Ferrari SF-25 after sweeping the competition on the Monaco circuit, on multiple balconies at the various hotel rooms she parks her tush in during the racing seasons, on the hood of her Corvette, on the roof of her Corvette—
You get the gravity of the point, surely.)
Anyways.
Casual, sure, but it was maybe even a little reckless considering Satoru’s penchant for chaos (and shameless groping) behind the wheel.
She clocked your bra-free state from the second she saw you— how could she not, what with your nipples protruding against the fabric like twin dollops of frosting on a really sexy cupcake? That tiny detail… welllll, it was the equivalent of tossing a match into Satoru’s gasoline heart and stupidly expecting her to not start feining like a Victorian man catching a glimpse of a woman’s exposed ankle.
Not that you or she had mentioned it. But Satoru noticed instantly, of course. Nothing escapes these sharp eyes of hers. Especially when it comes to her girl.
Speak of the devil; you adjust the strap of your top when it threatens to whip off in the wind razoring through the slitted windows, still chattering about how crazy it is that 90% of koalas have chlamydia. A cute little fact you learned from National Geographic.
The thin silk of your slinky little camisole flutters around your chest where it’s looser, free and unconstrained, while the bottom half clings to your abdomen. It outlines your curves perfectly. Too perfectly. Nipples, she thinks faintly, dreamily, all too aware of how they’re even stiffer with the cold mercilessly nipping at you through your shirt.
Every bump in the road makes you shift, only egging Satoru’s perverted mischief on. She glides along the lazily winding road one-handed. It's game time. The grin that curves her lips is pure devilment.
“Bold choice in clothes, princess,” Satoru drawls. It’s not like she can behave herself regardless of what you wear, honestly, but schematics, schematics. Taking a chance, she peers sidelong at you over the rim of her aviators she wears despite the darkness, just because it felt like the right kind of theatrically slick and suave. You call it ‘douchebag-ery.’
Not-so-subtly eyeing your boobs like a hungry ass infant looking to breastfeed, even when your eyes flick over to meet hers in confused question, she cheekily sinks her canines into her glossy bottom lip like she was already plotting. Which she was. “You’re not cold at all? I can roll up the windows if you are,” she gently presses with the tenderness of a concerned girlfriend, going as far as widening her eyes like a puppy to sell the act.
You tilt your head and tuck stray winding curls behind your ears when your hair fans a little too wildly against your face. “No, I’m okay! It’s nice out. I like feeling the air,” you chirp sunnily over the roar of the engine, your tone not at all carrying the warning edge of someone who knew they were being set up.
The fuck. Do you not know exactly what you’re doing?
“Ooooh. Perfect,” Satoru replies slowly. She looked every bit the predator in her domain— white hair swaying sharp around her face, knuckles stark white in their grip, posture practically vibrating with the thrill of the drive. “Air’s not the only thing you’re gonna feel.”
She flexes her fingers over the wheel like a pianist before a performance. You blink at her, brows furrowed. “What are you—”
You know that one pothole you always see when you’re driving? The one that has become such a recurring fixture in your commute— like an awkward old neighbors-to-childhood-friends-to-strangers-situation in a college setting novel— that you half expect it to send you a holiday card whenever you see it?
It looks less like road damage and more like God stubbed his fat little pinky toe there without a single backwards glance of regret. The one time that Satoru made the mistake of flying over it when you hit her up for a booty call before you started dating, the impact rearranged her spine like an unlicensed chiropractor took their hands to her legendary body.
That. Shit. Fucking. Hurt.
Ever since then, she’s gotten into the habit of edging the lane divider lines to avoid sending her coffee from flying into low orbit and painting the expensive interior of her car a shit-brown. She swears on everything holy that it’s so deep that she could find the entirety of the dust-flecked town of Whoville down there.
It’s evil. It’s a wretched, vile hazard.
And Satoru purposely hits it at what feels like Mach 12.
Whatever you were gonna say is lost to your howling shriek of pure terror. Satoru’s head nearly mashes into the ceiling of her car, teeth thunking painfully together and her stomach lurching with exhilarating adrenaline. You don’t fare any better— her hand on your thigh does jackshit to keep you glued to your seat, nor does the seatbelt that struggles to contain you. You shoot up a fraction before falling back into the upholstery so hard that she hears your bones rattle a death knell.
The Corvette lurches hard, suspension groaning, before slamming back down to earth. The jolt ricochets through your frame, head bobbing, shoulders jostled, an involuntary porn-worthy grunt slipping out as your hands instinctively dart to brace against the dash.
And, miraculously, your boobs do exactly what Satoru had known they would do—
They bounce. Ricochet. Jiggle, even, like a leaning tower of flan that’s just been spanked with the same energy of a toddler delivering one good hard smack upon Santa’s belly at the mall. But, like, so much better. And actually sexy! The soft, weighty recoil of your tits lags a heartbeat behind the movement of your abrupt descent back into the seat, drawing a certain pair of perverted eyes like a pendulum.
(After she slows her car a little, of course, to give her poor girlfriend a breather. Ain’t she sweet? You’re sooo lucky for landing a catch like thee Gojo Satoru. Actually, now that she ponders it, there must be an excellent girlfriend award somewhere out there, right? If so, she’s so gonna stack it next to her countless Grand Prix trophies.)
Your lips tremble around the sputtering remnants of a scream, frozen in that moment of stunned disbelief like you’ve just watched a magician pull a rabbit out of your own ass without asking first. Pupils dilated saucer-wide when they swing on her, cheeks blown out at the horror of your girlfriend using municipal negligence as her personal instrument of chaos plastered all over your cute face.
(Not that you know that she did it on purpose just yet. Her earlier comment about the air would’ve clued you in, had it not been lost in the shuddering storm of adrenaline prowling low over your thoughts.)
Meanwhile, Satoru’s glowing brighter than the damn sun on steroids— smug, ravenous, positively delighted— because she caught every nanosecond of you breasting boobily and titting downwards in her passenger seat. She struggles to tamp down her laughter, but a fraction of it that escapes is halfway between a witch’s cackle and the giggle of a delighted kid watching someone slip on ice.
“Oh, oopsie poopsie! Sorry, babe,” Satoru apologizes, absolutely not sorry at all. She pats your thigh in consolation. “Didn’t see that one there.”
You’re still too dazed to answer— blinking owlishly, still clutching the dash as if replaying the pothole impact in slow-motion inside your skull.
And Satoru? She’s already gearing up to do it again, glancing at her personal playground— the road.
“You—“ you suck in a breath. “Your car?” You squeak.
How cute is that? For one, your faith in her to not pull this shit on purpose is adorable, and two, you’re worrying for no reason instead of jumping to point your finger at the reckless driver herself. In truth, Satoru couldn’t have cared less about the wear and tear on her beloved Corvette (okay, she would, actually, because this car is her baby), but she knows it’s fine.
She hums, all sing-song, blue eyes gleaming behind her shades. “Don’t you worry about my car, my beautiful sugarplum fairy! She likes it rough,” she purrs, sculpted eyebrows wiggling playfully.
That makes you gape harder, and she actually has the audacity to stare pointedly at your boobs with wicked glee before revving the engine again. The thrum of it alone makes her heart thrill.
You follow her eyes, and your expression contorts before settling on disbelief and betrayal. You reach over the center console to swat her arm like a cat, scowling bashfully while your other hand urgently adjusts your mussed top despite how many times she’s already seen the goods. Shame— your nipple was almost out. #FreeTheNip. “You’re doing this on purpose, you freak!” You yelp.
Rounding her eyes out in the perfect picture of accused petulance, she juts her bottom lip out in a sorrowful pout, letting it quiver a little. You stare. Hard.
“Okay, hold on now: I’m the fastest and the strongest, not a freak,” she counters.
“And to say that I’m doing this on purpose?” Satoru parrots in a theatrical whine, deliberately lining up with another stretch of pavement when she spots the first pothole’s evil twin named Hellsa, the Corvette’s growl filling the night as the world rattles deliciously beneath you. “Mean, mean girl. Princess, I would never abuse public infrastructure for any reason— oh, look, another one!”
The second bump comes quicker, harder, like a final hidden obstacle in MarioKart with a bone-rattling ker-THUNK of the Corvette. “FUCK!”
Satoru’s ethereal blue eyes careen sideways after she nearly eats her hair that flies into her mouth, watching the way your body reacts with the car’s rhythm. It’s not a gentle sway; it’s more like a pair of water balloons getting slapped, your tits struggling to settle even after the rest of you slumps back into your seat. The fabric of your shirt literally strains to keep up.
Your shriek this time is higher-pitched than any human octave should reasonably reach, and Satoru, heel of her palm twirling the wheel into another turn, doubles over it with a wicked cackle so loud it nearly drowns out the squeal of tires and your indignant squawk of, “Toru!”
Satoru nearly loses it right there, belly-aching so hard she has to ease off the gas for a heartbeat. She’s fucking deadddd.
By the time the car steadies into a smoother streak of compact metal, you’re panting, hair mussed from the wind and being tossed around like a hot potato, dignity long gone. Teasing you is almost as intoxicating as the throttle beneath her foot with how delightful your reactions are. The Corvette rolls down the road, laughter spilling out into the air.
“Your face!” Satoru crows amusedly as she points at you, entirely unrepentant. “C’mon, I’m just driiiiving, nothing suspicious about that. Physics is a beautiful thing, baby cakes. Momentum, inertia, elasticity, and even a little dash of human anatomy and hentai physics…” She rolls the words like candy on her suave-slick tongue, listing them with faux-innocence. “Totally professional, totally scientific. Newton and Einstein would’ve killed to ride shotgun right now.”
You, however, roll your eyes so hard that she’s surprised you don’t lean out of the window and vomit from all the motion sickness you’re going through. Her attention ping-pongs between the road and your indignantly flushed face, ‘cat got the cream’ energy radiating off Satoru the entire time. “Though, I’ve gotta say,” she muses lowly, “physics has never looked this entertaining.”
Wearing that familiar little smirk that means trouble (or maybe a quickie in a high-risk public area that always ends with your panties stuffed in the pocket of Satoru’s jeans), she cuts closer to the divider line before you can chastise her properly, just enough to let the car skim over a marginally tamer dent in the road.
Again— camisole fighting against the physics of your girlfriend’s choice in trajectory, boobs waving ‘hi’ at Satoru, the whole shebang. Your feet screw into the floorpan to try and brace yourself, hands desperately scrabbling for purchase at your seatbelt like it’d save you from this nonsense.
Her gaze all but abandons the road for a solid six seconds to narrow in on your chest again before sliding her sights forward.
“What’ll be entertaining is me whooping the ever-loving shit out your assssss in the nearest parking lot,” you grumble petulantly with a glare that isn’t convincing in the least. The upturn of the corners of your lips betrays you. Cheeky, Satoru flashes you the heart-stopping grin she gives the cameras during media days on the track.
“Kinky,” she mutters to herself.
The second you give up and cross your arms protectively over your treacherously swaying boobs with a pout, melting into the seat to try and disappear, Satoru is already hunting down another hazard on the street. Game on.
“Aht, aht, hands off Gabriela,” she tsks in time with the song playing over her Bluetooth, swiping her hand from your thigh in order to click her fingers at you like you’re a misbehaving dog. You only double down harder and Satoru honest-to-god whimpers, leaning over the center console to plant a wet, juicy kiss on your cheek, then smacks a few more against your sensitive neck, delighting in your squirming. “Stoppp, baby, don’t cover up my view! You’re making this drive unforgettable,” she chirps, all sunny and playfully sweet.
Satoru affectionately pats the dashboard as if the Corvette agrees. She lets the engine snarl louder upon the press of her foot against the gas. The headlights cut warmly over the dark streets yawning beyond.
“Unforgettable for me too,” you mutter after bodily shoving her away by the cheek, lips aquiver with half-hearted restraint to avoid giving her the satisfaction of your amusement. Too bad she’s already puffed up like a stupidly pleased peacock. “In all the worst ways.”
“Oh, hush. You and I both know you adore me.” Satoru leans back in her seat with a confident relaxation, fingers tapping away at the wheel. You groan, but your warm glance says everything.
And then Satoru decides to ruin it: “Yo, wait, baby, NASA’s calling— they said they’re impressed with your launch velocity.”
You gape at her, jaw hanging, tickled exasperation at her antics etched into every tremor of your frame. Oh, you’re just adorable. Satoru wants to gnaw on your cheeks until they’re pink. “If you crash and kill us both because you’re too busy being a perv, I’m haunting you,” you warn.
You’re about as intimidating as a kitten.
Lord, how she wants to get you back home and stuff you full of her strap until you’re wailing, bravado shattered to smithereens, and clawing at her arms with your kitty-sharp nails.
She chuckles low, reckless joy lining her features as she sends the car sailing over a speed bump this time. All that chest movement of yours… it’s like seeing the reverberations of cymbals crashing together with the naked eye.
“Don’t tempt me with a good time,” she snickers immediately, biting down on her lip to contain the rising tide of laughter. “Now I’m just imagining ghost-you bouncing around behind me with your spectral boobs.”
“Dude?!” You holler as your chuckles finally seep out from your lips in the sweetest of melodies, a rich sound that fills the cabin and makes Satoru’s chest swell with giddy pride. “You’re actually insufferable, oh my god.”
“And you love it. C’mon, admit it— you’re laaaaaughingggg!” Satoru squeals to tease you.
“I’m laughing because I’m terrified!” You insist in a whiny snap even as you keep giggling, hair dancing with every jolt of the car.
“Terrified? You should be feeling oh so safe, princess. Who else gets a chauffeur this pretty and this skilled?”
“‘Skilled’ is debatable,” you shoot back, cheeks warm beneath the city lights scampering by from both the speed and the attention.
Satoru’s grin is bright, boyish, flashing a dazzling white against the leather interior of her Corvette. “You know,” she sighs, tone syrupy-smooth, “you can judge my driving all you want, but you’re not making this easy on me. I’m trying to drive responsibly and you’re just—“ she flaps a hand in your direction, because duh. “You knew exactly what you were doing when you left your bra at home. Don’t play coy.”
You cover your face with a flustered groan, shaking your head. Cute.
Satoru shifts gears with a showy, deliberately careless flourish that only a driver at the top of the world could pull off, taking a corner faster than strictly legal (it was a miracle that there weren’t red and blue lights in her rear view yet, honestly), steering onto a backstreet she knew was riddled with uneven asphalt. The Corvette hugs the turn like it was born to bend to her reckless whims, snared perfectly on the leash of her fingers.
Speaking of law enforcement…
She knocks her shades further down with a tilt of her head, lashes fanning pretty with her smile that she slants your way. Her wolfcut-styled strands lazily swish past her ears. You peek from between your fingers, blinking rapidly as if frozen beneath her stare.
“Yoooo, I’m a cop. You’re under arrest for having the biggest tits I’ve seen,” Satoru sing-songs, twirling a finger mid-air in imitation of emergency lights. Her voice carries that arrogant lilt that blooms forth when she’s enjoying herself way too much.
Another pothole as the car tears through the night as Satoru drives like it’s the Grand Prix of Nefertiddy, another wicked jolt as the chassis of the Corvette took the impact, another helpless squeak from you when your tits bounce and jiggle with a mind of their own. “Toru!”
Despite yourself, though, you melt into laughter again, hair catching the wind from the open window. The night thrums with the Corvette’s engine and your squabbling banter. There wasn’t a track in the world as thrilling as winding you up like this.
