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astrovcid · 4 months ago

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no. one party anthem

track nine: lover, you should've come over | prev track< | setlist

whose your man?

synopsis: your best friend has always been an asshole - whether it's in his band or in his bed. him ditching you? nothing new. but when one bedroom door closes, another one opens

pairings: rockstar!Suguru Geto x f!Reader x childhood fwb!Sukuna

content: mdni, fluff, smut + angst! making out, heavy petting, smoking, domestic Suguru, babysitting, awkward conversations, fingering + finger sucking

art by @mmmm1lk and divider by @uzmacchiato !

a/n: this one is so long my brain stopped working so sorry for any typos/autocorrect I missed :p

Were you a whore?

Laying on your boyfriend's couch and staring at the blades of his ceiling fan, while one man kissed your mouth and another was serenading you on live television.

"You don't have to stop because of me," Suguru murmured into your skin, pressing another peck to your cheek before glancing back to the tv. Hearing Sukuna's voice, the gravel in it, the hurt in his husky tone, it all just felt wrong in Suguru's house.

Every line felt too raw, too personal, too not Sukuna for you to fully process. The harder you tried to tune him out, the more it felt like you were being drowned by him, like his veiny hands were holding you under until you heard him.

Suguru's eyes were narrowed, his lip pulling tight as he listened too.

"It's pretty good," Gojo's grainy voice chimed in from the forgotten phone. "Even if it's kinda whiney."

Whiney.

He wasn't wrong. It was as close to a whine as Sukuna could get, still hoarse and gravelly, but no one could mistake his plea.

For you.

Putting things you'd waited him to say for years into a song that was a few months late. Things that hurt you more now. Made every piece of you ache and burn the way his hands once did.

"What do you think?" Suguru hummed, and it wasn't until he pulled a few inches away back that you realized he was asking you.

"Hm?" You feigned innocence, despite the huge fucking lump in your throat, leaning up to distract him with soft kisses across his face while he chuckled.

"The song?" He asked, one of his hands moving to cup your face and actually turn your head towards the tv.

What did you think?

You wished it was off.

Because watching him sing about regrets only made you consider your own. And you refused to have any when it came to him.

Sukuna was the one who never wanted a relationship. Who would openly fuck around with other women while you were in the room. Who never fucking cared until he couldn't have you anymore.

You moved on.

He could too.

So why the fuck did it still hurt to hear him hurting?

To see it in his clenched jaw and cold stare?

It was silly and stupid, but you felt like he could see you through the camera, that it was you who he was pretending was on the other side, that all these words were for you and you alone and he couldn't give a shit about the rest of the audience.

"Baby?" Suguru tucked a hair away from your face, forcing you back to the present, to where you belonged.

"It's good," You simply replied.

It was different from their usual songs, but it was obvious the crowd adored it. Adored him. You suspected the reception online would be the same.

Suguru didn't seem that pleased with your answer, even if you could tell he agreed - if only technically speaking.

The muscles in his face were pulled too tight, his smile forced as he nodded.

You wondered what expression you were making. What little hints you accidentally gave away.

"You're s'pposed to say you hate it," Gojo chided you, apparently sharing Suguru's disdain for your former lover? Friend?

"I hate it," You echoed, and you actually meant it.

You hated him for putting you back in this position of wishing everything was different. Hated the song for shoving it in your face how much he only wanted you when you were someone else's.

You hated yourself too for the piece of your heart that still wanted to believe him.

"Good girl," Gojo purred over the phone, and Suguru made a disgusted sound for you, his scowl shifting focus.

"Go ahead, say that to my girlfriend again," Suguru dared, low and stern. A barely veiled threat.

"Good-"

Suguru hung up the phone before he could finish, throwing it back on the table and rolling his eyes.

"I swear he gets stupider every day," He murmured, shaking his head, but his attention had already returned to the screen.

The song was almost over.

Or at least, you hoped it was.

Suguru returned to kissing you, despite being distracted, his lips dancing over your cheeks, grazing over the corner of your mouth before tracing over your jaw. Phantom pecks that didn't do much to pull your own attention away from tonight's soundtrack.

Sukuna was haunting you without even being here.

His rough voice and the grit to his words, blunt and raw and wrong. That was the word you were stuck on, unable to catch your breath as Suguru's teeth scraped back over your skin.

You just laid there, lost between the two of them while a cool hand slid under your shirt and past your bra, groping your tit and toying with your nipple. You gasped at the contact, his fingers quick to pinch and twist just to get a reaction out of you while you pouted at him.

"You never play fair," You murmured, whining at how effortlessly he worked you up.

"Why should I?" He challenged, a cute crooked smile curling up on his face for the first time since Sukuna came on screen.

You rolled your eyes, but he didn't stop squeezing, his broad body readjusting over you, couch creaking as he moved.

His attention shifted again, looking over his shoulder at the tv. Eyes narrowing to thin slits as you realized the final notes of the song were being played, Sukuna's tormented stare cutting through the camera straight through to you.

And yet, you still couldn't help but wonder what Suguru made of it. What history they might share and why, exactly, hadn't you heard of it?

You weren't dumb enough to think Sukuna ever told you everything. But it seemed he'd left out more than just a few pages when it came to his distaste for your boyfriend.

Not that you'd be able to really ask him now. Or even Suguru.

What were you supposed to say, 'Hey, by the way, that guy you clearly hate? He's actually my best friend I've been fucking for years!'?

Was, technically. All past tense.

You weren't sure what he was to you now. You'd gone weeks without really talking before, but this wasn't the same - and he knew it too.

You'd never had an actual boyfriend before. And he'd never confessed he loved you on live television.

"What are you thinking about, pretty girl?" Suguru hummed, bringing you back to him. His hands were still all over you, but his eyes hadn't left the screen. You guessed he'd just noticed your quiet.

"It's nothing."

Another night he would've called you on it, cut you a disapproving look or folded his arms across his chest until you told him. But he was just as distracted too.

The host was back on stage, talking about cutting to commercial as the crowd just kept applauding, telling everyone to stay tuned for an exclusive interview with the band.

Suguru grabbed the remote and turned it off before he finished.

"Asshole," He muttered to himself, clearly still mulling over the performance before he managed to turn the charm back on, a lazy smile curling back up on his lips as he traced over the outline of your body. "Sorry."

"You really don't like him?" You tentatively asked, fishing for details you didn't know if you even wanted.

How much harder would it make it to tell him the truth?

He chuckled, but it was dry, almost condescending before he answered. "You could say that."

You nodded like you understood.

He didn't elaborate, and you didn't ask again.

Suguru glanced back towards the cigarettes on the table. It wasn't like he actually smoked that often, but after enough time together, you could tell when he was itching for one. Usually on late nights like this, when there was a lot on his mind or after a particularly brutal day. You wiggled out from underneath him, sitting up and swinging your legs off of the couch to stand.

"Hey," He spoke softer now, sitting up too just to grab your hips before you could slip out of his reach.

"Hey," You echoed him.

"You mind if I step out for a few minutes?" Suguru sighed a little, but his eyes were sincere. He wouldn't smoke if you asked him not to, but you both knew you wouldn't.

"Course not," You shrugged, hoping it came out easy instead of exhausted.

"Keep me company?"

He held you close, one hand shifting to your back so he could rest his head on your stomach. Affection you were starting to think you were addicted to.

You couldn't imagine this ever ending. Couldn't risk it.

"I think I'm, um, just gonna grab a drink," You murmured, pulling away and glancing back towards the kitchen. "Listen out in case the girls wake up."

Suguru nodded, too absorbed in his own afterthoughts to call bullshit as he bent over to grab the pack of cigarettes and started towards the back patio, flipping the lock and starting to step out.

He'd forgotten his lighter though, so you snagged it, feeling strange as you scurried to catch up to him, grabbing his forearm before he could slip past the door.

His familiar chuckle was the first taste of real comfort you had since Sukuna had once again ripped open a huge fucking pit in your stomach that threatened to swallow you whole.

He plucked a cigarette out of the box, bringing it to his lips and leaning down so you could light it for him. A small smile curled up despite your growing anxieties, your thumb dragging over the cold metal of the little wheel on the side, watching the tip of the cigarette glow as the flames danced over it.

He took a small huff, blowing it out into the cool night breeze, a pretty gleam in his eyes when he glanced down at you.

"No thank you?" You hummed, gaze flickering from the rings of smoke up the the tired circles under his eyes.

Suguru only took the cigarette out long enough to kiss your cheek, and you could feel his smirk on your skin. "Mm, I can think of a couple way to thank you properly later."

"You're brushing your teeth first," You muttered, reluctantly releasing his forearm. "And changing clothes."

"Anything for my girl," He wryly teased, leaning against the glass door as you wistfully watched him take another drag. "Although I wasn't really planning on wearing clothes."

You rolled your eyes, stepping back inside and shutting the door behind you.

Maybe he wouldn't mind as much as you feared.

The night be picked you up in the rain - hadn't he reacted rationally? Reassuring? Didn't put you down for sleeping around or having sex with someone else?

You just couldn't shake the feeling it wouldn't be the same if he knew that someone was Sukuna.

Attempting to drown your anxities in a glass of water was far less effective than a bottle of bourbon, but nicotine was the only vice to be found in Suguru's house, and even that was always kept out of sight of the girls, only indulged when they were asleep or out with a babysitter.

You hadn't even finished half of it before you heard soft footsteps padding down the hall, quiet sniffles breaking the silence.

Nanako peeked out into the kitchen, big brown eyes watching you curiously.

"Hi, sweetheart," You softly said, glancing back to the door. You could only make out the outline of Suguru's broad back through the glass, but you doubted he was about to come inside. "Nightmare?"

"Mhm," She yawned, rubbing her eyes and shuffling her feet closer until she was resting her head on your leg.

"Need me to get your daddy?" You asked, brushing her hair back out of her face.

To your surprise, she shook her head no, tugging on your hand instead.

"Tuck me in?" She quietly requested, still sounding half-asleep as she started pulling you back through the hall.

You let her drag you back to her room, a funny sort of floating feeling rising in your chest as she kicked stuffed animals out of the way and you had to suppress a quiet giggle watching her climb back into her bed.

Fixing the blankets back over her while she readjusted, wiggling around until she was comfortable. You glanced over at her still sleeping sister before leaning in to whisper. "All better?"

Nanako nodded, but her eyes were still wide and uneasy.

"Will you stay until I fall asleep?" She whispered back.

"Sure," You smiled.

You ended up sitting on the floor next to the bed, cross-legged and holding her hand while you struggled not to doze off yourself in the dim room, only the soft glow of the nightlight to cut through the long shadows.

Suguru found you like that, eyes half-closed and head resting on the mattress, gently nudging you.

Nanako wasn't asleep yet, but she was yawning again before she could whisper a hushed protest.

"Go back to sleep, honey," Suguru murmured, patting her head. Nanako looked up at you with big eyes, flat out ignoring her dad.

"You said you'd stay," She whined, tugging at edges of your shirt when you went to stand.

"For a little bit?" You relented, glancing up at Suguru with puppy dog eyes of your own.

It was kind of sweet to feel needed, to have a place you felt like you belonged. A little space for you that they had carved out.

You both stayed until she fell back asleep, Suguru sitting on the floor next to you, a hand rubbing comforting circles on your thigh while he whispered her a second bedtime story.

Creeping back out without stepping on one of the thousand toys they'd left out from staying up playing past their bedtime was harder than you expected, stifling a laugh at Suguru's frown, almost breaking into giggles when he muttered something about making them clean their room in the morning.

The smell of cigarette smoke clung to his clothes, but you'd started to find it almost comforting, familiar. It'd never really bothered you to begin with - but your feelings had shifted with the rest of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You were falling for him hard - bad habits and all.

Suguru shuffled into the bathroom, but not before stripping off his shirt and jeans, muscles defined and on display as he tossed them into the laundry basket. You smiled, trading your own clothes in for one of his oversized shirts hanging in his closet and a pair of your own shorts you'd kept in the drawer of stuff you'd started keeping at his place.

"You'd make a good mom," He commented, toothbrush still dangling from his lips while he watched you climb into what had unofficially become your side of the bed.

"I dunno," You laughed, a little too airy and breathless to be real. "You think so?"

Sometimes you wondered what he saw in you that Sukuna never did. And which one of them was right.

"Mhm," He insisted, slyly eyeing you before returning to the sink to spit out the remnants of his toothpaste. There was still a little smudge of white on his bottom lip when he leaned back against the doorframe. "You don't think so?"

"Never really thought about it, I guess," You shrugged.

Suguru was your first real relationship after all. The first guy that'd made it past more than a handful of dates to stick around.

"You're great with the girls," He simply said. You could feel yourself smiling at that, even if you knew it was just because you had enough practice chasing around Yuji, accustomed to the easily-changing moods of toddlers.

"Well, thanks." You tried to hide your flush, how giddy the compliment really made you. Suguru flicked the lights off in the bathroom, only pale moonlight from the window streaming in to illuminate the room.

"Makes me want to make you a mom," He teased, walking over to the bed. Instead of getting on his side, he climbed directly on top of you, palms sliding over the outline of your body over the blanket before he settled in next to you.

"I think you have your hands full already," You laughed, despite the heat in your face.

You? Pregnant?

Sukuna would have a stroke.

"Maybe not right now," He sighed. But later.

"You're so full of shit," You quietly said, rolling over so your back was to his chest.

He was a master at teasing, at luring you in with those low laughs and smooth words, weaving a web to snare you in, wrapped so tight you'd never be able to squirm out.

His casual kisses and intense stares, suggesting a future together so easily.

As if loving you was really so simply to him.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Suguru murmured in your ear, brushing your hair to the side so his lips could ghost over your skin.

"Hoping you're free," You giggled. He chuckled back, pressing a longing kiss to your throat as his body snuggled closer to yours under the covers.

"The girls are getting watched," He hummed, and you were already smiling, pulling one of his muscled arms around you tighter. A date then? Maybe a movie? "We're supposed to have a rehearsal. At that venue we're performing at next weekend?"

Oh.

Your smile turned down, disappointment closing your throat, the thick taste of it hard to swallow.

"You could come with me," He added, his hand wrapping around your waist so he could trace little patterns with the pad of his thumb. "Watch a real show. Might be some management there, but doubt it'll be that formal."

It was impossible to miss that sharp dig at Sukuna, the harsh edge to his sweet sentences.

"Yeah?" You replied, but your voice was small, unconvinced.

"Could find an empty dressing room after," He suggested, and you were a little ashamed at how quickly you felt the heat skyrocket in your stomach at the implication. "Or I can take you out to eat."

You could practically feel the curve of his smirk as he dotted your collarbone with more pecks. You didn't say anything though, waiting to see what else he might add.

"You could be my dessert," He sighed, all dreamy and smooth, like you weren't already hooked on him.

"Deal," You muttered.

What else could you say?

"Shit."

Out of all the words you could hope to wake up to, that wasn't one of them.

Blinking wearily, you sat up, pushing off his soft mattress and glancing over to the empty spot next to you.

Suguru was pacing the floor, talking on the phone, or just hanging up, you guessed, pulling it away from his ear and running his fingers through his hair. The rest of the house was quiet, the girls probably still asleep.

"Sugu?" You yawned, and his face swiveled towards you, his irritation softening to just annoyance, or inconvenience.

"Sorry, baby," He murmured, looking back down at the phone in his hand distastefully before glancing back over to where you'd started to sit up in his bed. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine," You stifled a second yawn, covering your mouth before stretching your sore limbs out. "Something happen?"

"The babysitter cancelled," Suguru grunted, and you could practically see him running through the list of options in his head, if he'd have to bring the girls to the rehearsal or try to find a trusted caregiver on a Saturday with such short-notice.

"I could watch them," You heard yourself offer, still too sleepy to realize what exactly you were suggesting until after it left your mouth.

Suguru paused, his lips parted as he played with the idea, his head tilting to the side while he considered it.

"Are you sure?" He asked, carefully choosing his words as he squinted at your attempts to rub the sleep from your eyes.

"Yeah," You nodded. The girls seemed to like you. Or at least, tolerated their dad's new girlfriend most of the time. They'd whisper to each other sometimes, watching you from across the room while they played with their toys, but they still included you on their games and shared silly stories when you came over - which, uh, was pretty often lately.

And you were the one Nanako wanted last night, right?

"They can be a lot," Suguru started, really staring at you now, and you tried to tame your mused-hair, a little self-conscious at the intensity behind it.

"Yeah, I think I've gathered that by now," You mumbled. You climbed out of bed, padding over to the soft rug he was standing on to poke his chest. "You think I can't handle them?"

You watched Yuji plenty of times - and he probably had enough energy for two kids.

"I know you can," He replied, catching your finger in his massive hand rather than swat it away. "But I don't want you to feel like you have to."

"I really don't mind," You insisted. You liked your place with him, the spot they were dusting off and making for you, where you were wanted. "It'll be fun."

You were wrong.

Well, half-wrong.

Handling two kids turned out much different than dealing with just one. You'd try to help Mimiko fix her pigtails just for Nanako to slip out of the room and start rummaging through cabinets, clanging pots together the second you turned your back. Making snacks and sandwiches meant two sets of hands were pawing at your clothes and trying to steal bites from the plate, then having to clean them, the table, and the floor.

But considering no one was crying or injured, just minor messes and only one broken toy, you'd say you were succeeding so far.

Satoru had picked Suguru up after a late breakfast, your boyfriend giving you a kiss on the cheek before kicking his best friend out of the driver's seat and leaving you with the twins. He'd left the keys to his dad-mobile on the counter, scribbling down the address of the venue and texting it to you too, entrusting you to bring the girls towards the tail-end of their rehearsal. Murmuring more apologies in your ear and suggesting Satoru might watch the girls afterwards so Suguru ould make it up to you.

You nodded along to all his plans in the moment, forgetting how hard it could be to get a single child buckled into a car seat. Two?

God, whoever was babysitting the twins before needed a raise.

Getting them out was somehow even worse, trying to hold Mimiko while you struggled to unbuckle Nanako while she wiggled and grabbed at your fingers.

Eventually though, you managed, locking the door and slipping the keys in your purse while you glanced around the mostly-empty parking lot. You wondered if Gojo was the one who pulled strings to get it as a space to practice, or if maybe it was something their manager arranged to get ready for their show next weekend.

Sukuna might've snagged a late night show spot, but Suguru informed you over pancakes this morning that they were going to just perform their own new single at the next concert.

Something he'd written himself.

You hadn't heard it yet, but after last night, you were a teensy but terrified it was about you too.

"Is daddy here?" Mimiko asked quietly, peering up at you with big brown eyes as you plastered back on your perkiest smile.

"Mhm," You nodded, keeping an eye out for any cars as you made your way to the side entrance. "We're gonna go see him now."

With one girl on your hip and the other clutching your hand, you awkwardly led them inside, familiar eyes of stagehands and security guards curiously watching you with your new companions as you navigated through the narrow halls backstage.

You heard them before you saw them once you turned the corner, instruments still slung over their shoulder while they argued about something surey stupid.

"It's terrible."

"It's not." Cue Gojo's overdramatic groan. "You just have terrible taste."

"I agree with Nanami," An unfamiliar voice added, somewhere from the audience, or maybe just out-of-sight offstage. An older guy, if you had to guess, maybe a manager or someone else on their team.

"Seriously?" Gojo scoffed.

Whatever him and Nanami and the mysterious third party were bickering about, you weren't exactly looking forward to walking into the middle of it.

But Nanako was, her tiny palm ripping away from yours to start sprinting ahead of you, beaming at the sound of their voices.

"Nana, wait," You called out, barely catching her before she could burst through the side onto the stage.

But the squeak of her light-up sneakers against the floor had them all turning your direction, your face flushing as you tried to wrangle her with Mimiko still perched on your hip. Nanako just slipped free again, and you figured she'd make a beeline for Suguru, but she threw herself into Nanami's legs instead, tugging at his pants before holding her arms up to be held.

"Kennnnn," She whined, and you couldn't help but crack a grin at the way he was already readjusting the shoulder straps of his bass to make space for her at his side. "Pick me up."

Nanami clicked his tongue, but he didn't hesitate to pick her up, carefully holding her. She squealed, clearly pleased at this as she threw her arms over his shoulders. Haibara was laughing at the scene, standing up behind his drum set and wiping the sweat off his brows with his t-shirt. You didn't quite catch what he said, but you guessed it was something about water or getting a drink, hurrying off the stage and almost bumping into you.

"Sorry," You apologized, hoisting Mimiko higher on your hip as you walked over to the rest of the band, glancing anxiously over at an amused Suguru. He'd probably pout later that his daughter didn't even come to him first, but you knew he wouldn't ever admit it out loud. Just silently frown and ask her who she loved most until she said him.

Right now though?

He seemed to be swept up in your performance playing babysitter to the girls.

"I don't think they're finished yet, sweetheart. Wanna go color together backstage?" You hummed, offering out another hand. You'd packed coloring books and crayons plus a few of their toys in an oversized tote slung over your other shoulder.

"No."

Suguru chuckled dryly, walking over to stand by you, ruffling Mimiko's hair first and yours next as he observed his other daughter's little fist balled up in Nanami's shirt.

"You guys miss me?" He asked, pinching Nanako's cheek while she huffed and buried her face into his bandmate's chest.

"No," Nanako repeated, and you laughed at how quickly Suguru's smirk dissolved into a frown.

"What can I say?" You teased, nudging Suguru with your hip. "I'm fun."

Even if you had a twin-sized headache forming behind your eyes.

Mimiko helped him recover his composure, mumbling that she missed him, barely speaking loud enough to be heard with her face still pressed against your shirt.

"How are my favorite girls?" The voice you'd forgotten about called out behind you, loud and a little obnoxious considering the acoustics made it echo and boom.

You turned around instinctively, but your brain struggled to register what you were seeing.

Two Gojos.

Or well, there was your normal Satoru, his usually bright eyes narrowed into a glare and his guitar still slung across his chest. You didn't mean to stare at the other one, but it took you a second to piece it together, only a few extra wrinkles and lines giving it away that he was older.

Sukuna had claimed he was a nepo baby before, but it wasn't until you realized it was Gojo Senior standing in front of you that it clicked Satoru's father was someone important - maybe the owner of the management company, or some CEO, judging by his crisp business suit and overpriced loafers.

They looked ridiculously similar - the cheeky grin and clear complexion, but his dad's stark white hair was a bit longer, wearing a thin pair of glasses that reminded you of the reading ones Suguru had back home.

The intense blue eyes behind them focused on you.

"I've been begging Suguru to bring you by," He chuckled, glancing between you and Suguru. He hadn't glanced back at Satoru once, beaming at you.

"Um, hi," You awkwardly greeted, holding out your free hand just for the older man to pull you into a bear hug.

Like father, like son, you guessed, if lacking the concept of personal space could be passed down. Or maybe Satoru was just mimicking what he saw at home.

"Heard a lot about you," He laughed, a little too loud while he pulled away and patted your back. He squatted down so he was eye-to-eye with Mimiko, pulling out a plastic-wrapped lollipop from his pocket and holding it out for her. Nanako's head snapped towards you at the sound of the wrapper, eyes gleaming as he chuckled and passed her one too. "These two are the closest I think I'll ever have to grandkids."

He said it like he was confessing some secret to you, leaning in like this was information you were supposed to keep to yourself when he was talking loud enough for everyone to hear.

His actual son included.

You didn't know what to say, but Suguru came to your rescue, his hand finding the small of your back, the pressure of his palm reassuring you.

"The babysitter cancelled," Suguru explained, tracing over your spine with his thumb as he introduced you properly. "I asked her to bring the girls by."

You felt that sharp stare on your face, but it was hard to meet, only managing to glance up a few times, your attention shifting to the floor and between your boyfriend and his best friend instead.

Satoru's jaw was clenched, locked onto the exchange carefully.

"Well, looks like you won't need a babysitter much longer, hm?" The Gojo you decided you liked much less asked with a slightly condescending tilt of his head, glancing over your body. You weren't sure what exactly he meant to imply. That you were supposed to play mom already? Or that you'd be actually be one and give im a third fake grandkid?

Okay, maybe you were overthinking - last night's late night conversation worming its way deeper into your brain than you wanted it to.

"I'm sorry?" Suguru stiffened behind you, clearly trying to work out what the hell Gojo's dad was trying to say.

But the older Gojo had moved on, looking back at his son for the first time since you'd gotten here.

"Have you invited them to dinner yet?" All the warmth that'd just been in his voice had drained into something cold and clinical.

"No," Satoru grimaced.

You didn't know it was even possible for him to answer a question with just a single word.

He begrudgingly walked over, slinking up to your other side, his mouth still stuck in a frozen frown.

"Family dinner's at six, Suguru," The older Gojo sighed, checking his watch and glancing behind him. His mask was quick to come on, cheery and pleasant as he tapped his watch. Probably some luxury brand you'd never even heard of. His time seemed to be of greater importance than everyone else's, judging by his impatient huff. "I have to get going, but I expect you there."

His demand was directed to Suguru alone.

You guessed the girls too, but you weren't sure if it included you. Or even Satoru, judging by the irritated scowl he was throwing his father's back.

Satoru nudged you, a funny look on his face while he swept over your face, taking note of how hard you were nervously chewing on your lip. "Ignore him. I do."

There was no way his dad didn't hear him.

But before he had even left, there were more voices approaching, a pretty woman in a tight little purple dress greeting him politely as she glanced up from her phone.

"Hello, Manami," The older Gojo purres, pitching his voice down too low for you to be comfortable.

You decided you probably shouldn't ask Satoru about Mrs. Gojo then.

"That's our bitch of a publicist," Satoru muttered in your ear, quiet enough that even Suguru wouldn't hear.

If it was someone else, you'd scold him for calling another woman a bitch.

But whatever was going on between them seemed personal enough, you had no intentions of getting involved with.

"Hi, boys," She chirped when she walked out, walking straight over without even looking at you.

"Manami, this is my girlfriend," Suguru started the introductions up again, but your audience this time couldn't be less interested.

"Oh." She didn't hold her hand out. Barely looked at you at all. Just quickly sizing you up before returning her attention to Suguru. "Well."

Maybe Satoru was right.

"A few fans are about to drop by for autographs and a photo op," She casually informed them, checking something on her phone.

"What the hell?" Satoru scoffed. "That wasn't on the schedule."

For someone who loved attention, hearing him complain about more, even if it wasn't planned just added to the uncomfortable situation you'd gotten sucked in.

"Yeah, that was before Sukuna started the whole heartbroken rockstar act," She returned his disdain, rolling her eyes before returning to typing.

"It's fake," Suguru grumbled, and you shifted your feet, the weight of Mimiko on your hip starting to make your back ache.

"Yeah, duh."

You kept your mouth sealed, not sure if it'd even make a difference if they knew it was real.

"Anyway, you guys need some press if you want your single to compete with theirs next week," She dismissively said.

Suguru made a disgusted noise behind you, loud enough you could feel it in their bones.

Was that how he'd feel about you if he knew you were the reason for it?

"Fine," Suguru gave in, clearly unhappy with the cd signing or mini meet and greet cutting into their practice time. "Everyone should break for fifteen then, I guess."

"Whatever," Satoru grunted, walking away before anyone could stop him. Manami wasn't paying attention, going to take a small seat off the side, her dress riding up her thighs when she sat down.

"Hey, I'll be right back, okay?" Suguru leaned in to murmur, kissing your head as you nodded, overwhelmed to the point of almost being numb now. You watched him catch up to Satoru, calming or consoling him over what the hell just happened.

You only noticed Nanami watching you then, catching his stoic stare out of the corner of your eye.

Each of you carrying a kid too absorbed in their candy to pay anything else attention.

"You watched it with Suguru last night?" Nanami asked, although it didn't really feel like a question. He didn't have to specify for you to know he was talking about Sukuna's performance.

Or perhaps he was testing you, a pop quiz that you were about to get wrong.

"Yeah," You answered, a small crease forming between your brows while you tried to read his blank stare. It was funny though, the weird feeling of trustworthiness he had. Or perhaps he just had that effect on everyone.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He hm-ed, offering you nothing to go off of.

Frankly, he'd have to pay you a hell of a lot more if he wanted your real thoughts.

"Depends," You shrugged.

"On?"

"If you can keep a secret," You teased, and he actually cracked the tiniest of grins.

"You liked it?" He arched a brow, curious or cautious or some mixture of the two.

"The song, sure," You replied.

"And the man behind it?"

You froze, realizing what he was hinting at. Or rather, remembering which guitar pick Sukuna had been using last night.

Nanami knew.

You had no way of knowing how much, but at the very least, he had to be aware you knew him enough to snag a guitar pick and give it back.

"Not particularly," You neutrally said, wondering if it'd even matter if he believed it.

"Oh?" Whatever it was he was thinking, his interest was piqued. "And what about the whole heartbroken act?"

"If I liked it? Or if it's real?" You could hear the tinge of bitterness in your voice, biting your cheek now.

"If it's real," He clarified.

You heard footsteps and faint voices, Satoru finally laughing at something down the hall. You swallowed hard before answering him this time. "Yeah."

"M'sleepy," Mimiko muttered to you, her mouth stained purple as she glanced around again.

"Okay, sure we-"

"Do you mind taking them somewhere else?" Manami interrupted, her tall heels clicking against the floor as she looked at the tiny toddlers with barely-disguised distaste behind her polite smile.

"Sure," You dryly replied, cutting her a sharp look before turning to Nanako. "Come on, sweetheart, let's go find a place to nap."

"I can take them to Ijichi," Nanami offered, coaxing Nanako into standing on her own so he could take off his bass and set it back in his case. Once both hands were free, Mimiko reluctantly let go of you to follow him, still holding onto the same stuffed animal she carried everywhere as she took the hand her sister wasn't holding. He paused to look back at you, and you still hadn't decided what to make of him. "Good luck."

Or that.

But then he was heading off the stage, only interrupted by Satoru and Suguru returning.

Suguru nodded towards Nanami, pulling him aside for a quick conversation as Satoru returned with the same sour look on his face. You watched between them, wondering what exactly happened but Suguru hurried back to where you were awkwardly standing the second he finished, your arms folded tight across your chest as you tried to tell yourself this wasn't going as bad as you felt like it was.

"The girls were sleepy?" Suguru asked, his hands sliding up your arms and squeezing softly.

"Yeah," You accidentally yawned, covering your mouth as you looked up at him. "Me too, I guess."

"Come on," He chuckled, tugging you against his side and guiding you in the same direction Nanami went.

You ended up in a dressing room bigger than your bedroom two minutes later, getting dragged onto his lap on top of a couch with more suspicious stains than clean patches.

"Guess we'll have to be quick, huh?"

Suguru wanted to add to them, apparently.

Five minutes later, he had his tongue down your throat and his cock throbbing between your thighs.

"Sorry," He muttered between open-mouthed kisses, one hand under your skirt and the other under your shirt. Massaging messy circles over your clit while two fingers rolled your nipple back-and forth, groaning loudly as you grinded over the bulge in his jeans.

"For what?" You whispered, eyes closing as his thumb swept back over your aching bud, washing away the anxieties of this afternoon.

He made everything else easy to forget.

"All of that," He chuckled, his hand sliding down so he could shove your damp panties to the side, prying them off your sticky skin.

Your giggle turned into a gasp when he abruptly pushed two thick fingers inside your dripping cunt, scissoring and splitting you open with a fucking smirk on his face.

"Jerk," You muttered, but your thighs were trembling, your muscles tense as he sent shudders down your spine, pumping in-and-out with no reprieve, burying his fingers down to the knuckle and cruelly curling them until you were panting and clinging to his shoulders for support.

"Hm?" He dared you to say it again, cocking his head to the side as if you couldn't feel how hard he was underneath you, your hips trying to arch up to get a break from the intense pressure building in your core, how his fingers were practically rearranging your guts on their own.

But he was quick to hold you back down, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

"Baby," He purred, and you hated how even his condescension made him so much hotter.

"You're still a je-"

Two thick fingers pressed down on your tongue before you could finish repeating your insult, your lips closing around him as your eyes scrunched shut. Sucking his fingers the way you would suck his cock, his pretty groan almost pushing you over the precipice as he pumped his fingers deep.

The sound of the door hitting the wall made you jolt, but he subtly slipped his fingers out from under your skirt, as if it wasn't obvious what you were doing from your tits pressed tight against his chest and his fingers still shoved inside your mouth while he lazily diverted his stare towards the intruder.

You sorta expected to see Satoru standing there, lollipop tangling from cherry-red lips and a crooked grin plastered on his face at catching you two.

But no, it seemed Manami had come to collect him.

"The fans are here," She said, her voice flat and still only looking at him.

"I'll be there in a minute," Suguru dismissed her, but she didn't budge, her stare lingering as he slowly removed his fingers from your mouth, mortification setting in at the humiliating position she'd seen you in.

"I'm counting," She finally said, turning to leave without sparing you a sliver of pity. Utterly un-phased by the scene.

Was it ironic that it reminded you of the morning you caught some girl on Sukuna's lap? Or just another symptom of being lovesick and lost when it came to Suguru?

"Shit," He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is ten minutes too much to ask?"

"Apparently," You muttered, climbing off of him.

"Ijichi's watching the girls for the rest of rehearsal, but I guess dinner's at the Gojo estate," Suguru muttered, eyes closed, head resting against the back of the couch. Safe to say he wasn't exactly thrilled either. "Sorry about him, he's a little, uh, eccentric."

You nodded, something you'd been doing a lot lately.

Really, you just weren't used to any of this. Sharing this much of your life with someone, occupying their space and meeting their friends and getting close to their family. Didn't know how to navigate being someone who was half of a whole.

"I'll, uh, just head home," You muttered, smoothing out your skirt and pausing in front of the mirror to fix your smudged makeup. "It's fine."

"You could join us," He offered, but you couldn't imagine making it through an entire evening devoted to Satoru's odd father and listening to them strategizing about overtaking Sukuna's spot on the charts with a straight face when you were already about to crack.

He trusted you with his kids - couldn't you trust him with this?

The more you tried to convince yourself he'd understand, the less sure you felt. The more unsteady the ground seemed underneath you. Like maybe you'd never been standing on concrete at all. Or worse, you carving the cracks yourself, chipping away at it with your insecurities and inability to put your faith in him fully.

"I've been fighting a headache for a few hours anyway," You spoke softly, leaning over to pick your purse off the ground, digging out his car keys and tossing them back to him. You'd left your car back at your place yesterday since Suguru had been the one to pick you up, but honestly, you didn't mind just ordering yourself a ride share if it meant you could just decompress and rot in bed by yourself for a few hours. "Should probably just take a nap or something."

"Are you sure?"

He didn't want you to go, and honestly, you didn't even want to leave him, but you felt like the words 'I used to fuck Sukuna' might spill out all wrong the longer he looked at you with those dark eyes of his.

"Yeah," You nodded. Your head did hurt, but it was probably for other reasons than what he was imagining. Totting around toddlers and feeling like you had the emotional intelligence of one trying to work out what Sukuna even fucking wanted from you or why you even still cared at all anymore was migraine-inducing enough before you showed up here just to get your personal space invaded and your private life investigated.

Good luck.

You didn't know if Nanami genuinely meant it, but you obviously needed it.

What could you do?

Just confess to Suguru you weren't who he thought you were? Have to promise to never see Sukuna again or beg him to understand?

You hadn't decided by the time you made it back to your apartment to discover a small square jewelry box waiting at your door, a small slip of paper slipped under the gift-wrapped bow. Your heart deflated at the familiar sharp scrawl on it, the signature you hadn't expected.

The simple I'm sorry.

And even if you weren't a whore, you were probably a coward for ignoring your phone and staring at that stupid box a handful of hours later, sitting cross-legged on your bed and feigning interest in some stupid show playing in the background while you debated on opening it.

You should throw it away.

No, that would be bitchy. You could return it to him through Kaori and Jin though.

That would be sensible.

But if you were returning it anyway, would it really hurt just to take a little peek?

You groaned, tempted to toss the box across the room while your phone vibrated for the twentieth time tonight. You finally worked up the nerve to check that, at least, scrolling through a surprising number of messages from Suguru, slowly growing more slurred and typo-filled as they progressed. You hadn't even gotten two words into a reply when he started calling.

"Sugu-"

"Hi, pretty girl," He hm-ed, his soft purr hinting at just how many drinks might be in his system.

"Having fun with Satoru, I guess?" You sarcastically asked, fiddling with the edge of the ribbon tied around your gift box.

"Dinner was awful," Suguru admitted, although anyone could've put together that much if they had to compensate for it by getting drunk. "Satoru stormed out and decided to throw a party at his place instead."

"I take it that's where you're at?" You couldn't help your smile at his easy laughter, at how cute he sounded so tipsy.

"Didn't you get my messages, baby?" It was as close as Suguru could come to a whine, his complain soft and slow in your ear.

"I hadn't looked through all of them," You admitted, re-opening his texts and actually reading them this time.

One of his other friends had taken the girls for a sleepover tonight, and he'd sent Satoru's address twice asking you to come over before the link to an Uber driver already on the way to pick you up five minutes ago.

"You miss me that bad already?" You teased, giggling as you pushed off the bed and switched him to speaker phone, hurrying to rummage through your closet for a party dress, something short enough he'd surely fuck you until you stopped worrying about the rest of the world.

"Yeah."

No maybe.

No sign of uncertainty or doubt.

"Fine," You relented, as if you weren't already stripping down to squeeze yourself into something tighter. "I'll be there."

"I'll be waiting," Suguru smoothly replied, never missing a moment to make your heart skip a beat.

Your phone vibrated again right as you want to slip on your heels, picking it up expecting to see a notification from Suguru about the ride he sent arriving earlier. But it wasn't him

from: Sukuna can we talk?

reblogs n comments are super appreciated <3 love hearing your thoughts !!

taglist: @universal-s1ut @lavenderdaydream97 @nylve @cashshiii-blog @inthedarkshadows000 @adiantumvenustum @chsuguru @pnkblueberry @byerno6 @favvkiki @sugurusfavemonkey @kindadolly @sillymortalblob @starmapz @apchmon @chaoticgood-munson @nymphsdomain @fire-pirhana-plant @msheds0519 @aldebrana @xixflower @mitsuyq @moncher-ire @ssetsuka @beepbeepyddgjj @d3ad-ins1de @lauuriiiz @levislug @nonamevenus @vertigoswan @mortallyshadysoul @dazaisfavgf @sugucultfollower @seellove @thelightknight21 @insomniakookies @surgeonsofazeroy @sugusmonkeyy @ratedrrrr @elukewarm @madisonmonroexx @alt--er--love @swtbckyboo @dear-fifi @gojosfiance @skyxxx17 @theogborjie @evilari111 @disappointedpeaches @beautiful--macabre

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astrovcid · 4 months ago

Text

Thinking about fratboy!Gojo who couldn’t keep his eyes off of you even if his life depended on it.

Cause when you enter the large house, you didn’t think anything of it other than wanting to party and maybe get laid.

A tall dark haired man had come up to you earlier, making small talk. You went along with it, I mean who wouldn’t. The guy was over 6ft, dark hair, muscular and seemed like someone even guys would wanna hook up with.

He had his hand on your waist but that was quick to end when another man came into the picture. He was tall, maybe even taller than him. White, snow like hair, crystal blue eyes. He looked like a god. You were staring, maybe a bit too long.

“I already called dibs, fuck outta here” the taller one said, you were taken back. Dibs? Huh?

The black haired one scoffed, walking away and the other was taking his place quicker than he left. You craned your neck up, getting a better look at his features under the neon lit house. “You’re staring” he grinned, flashing those pearly teeth of his, bending down to your level.

“Fuck me”

Well that was abrupt. He stared at you for a second, tilting his head, hair flowing with him.

“Please..” you added. If he declines, you’ll dig straight down and bury yourself right here in this house. “K, lets go” he walked towards the stairs. You should be shocked at how quickly he just agreed without as much as a second thought. Maybe he’s stupid? They usually are.

He took you upstairs to his room you’re assuming. You hope it’s his.

And that’s how you ended up on his bed, back against the headboard. Gojo was between your legs, lips on yours. His fingers trailed up and down your exposed thighs, teasing you to your absolute limit. You were literally throbbing down there from just a kiss. More like a steamy makeout sesh. His other hand kneaded your waist. He pulled back, catching his breath, laughing quietly as your flushed expression.

He grabbed the half empty beer can from the side table and downed it in one go. You watched as his adam’s apple bobbed. It was hard to resist, so the most sensible thing to do was let loose.

You grabbed him by his black compression shirt, pulling him in just enough for your lips to land on his throat. You bit down on the little lump in his throat, running your tongue along the column.

“Woah woah woah, relax, you little minx” he laughed, grabbing you by your shoulders and pushing you down onto the bed. His soft white hair grazed your face.

“Sorry, gojo” he quirks a brow, leaning in closer, lips ghosting over yours

“Do you know my name?” his voice dropping, lips running along your jaw. You nodded, making him groan.

“Don’t do that, use your words” you sighed, pushing him back just enough so he could stop leaving hickies for one second.

“It’s gojo, no?”

“My first name”

“Oh.. satoru?” you said, more like a question.

“Good girl, now use that from now on.” he earned a nod from you, smirking. His hand trailed up your thighs, rough pads of his fingers made your nerves run wild as he caressed your inner thighs. Wasn’t he too gentle for a frat? Thought they usually ravaged women like they’re the last piece of meat on earth. Satoru’s fingers were long, a bit too long. Those same slim fingers pushed your damp panties aside, dipping his middle and ring finger inside, knuckles deep. You bit down on your plush bottom lip, grabbing his large biceps.

“Shit.. you’re fucking soaked, baby” he mused, thrusting his fingers in a few times and you swore they were bigger than most dicks. Moans echoed throughout the room. Some quiet, some muffled. Your legs start trembling, clamping down around his digits. He pulled out right before you could relax yourself. You looked down, seeing him place the glistening, slimy fingers on his tongue. Gojo’s lips upturned as you watched him with parted lips, watching as he swallowed up your arousal with the most blissful expression you’ve seen on a man.

He finally unbuckled his pants, keeping them on but pulling out his red, angry cock. He spread your legs, enough for the dim light to show everything but not enough. You gasped as he slapped his cock onto your wet folds, that same shit eating smirk plastered on his face. He circled your entrance, looking up at you for approval. Is he asking for consent? Surprising. You nodded like before, making him shake his head.

“Yes yes, you can put it in already” it wasn’t noticeable, but gojo noticed how you tried to hide your smile. He pushed his tip inside, a soft high pitched moan left your lips, instantly heating up your face. Wasn’t that embarrassing?

“Relax, minx. As long as you don’t look down at my size, you’ll be fine” you wanted to look for yourself but he was quicker, leaning on top, pressing his lips down onto yours. Softer than before, a little too intimate. He bottomed out, which had you arching your back off the bed, whining into his mouth, digging your sharp nails into his biceps.

“You okay?” he asked for confirmation again. About to nod but you stopped yourself. “it’s okay” you said quietly. The stretch was unbelievable; how could someone physically be this long? You made the right choice by not looking at it. It was uncomfortable having a dick buried in your cunt but not unbearable.

He kissed you again, not to kiss you but to distract you. he almost pulled out, tip at your entrance. His tongue ran over the seam of your lips, meeting your tongue in a filthy untamed kiss before slamming back inside you.

Ouch? There was an odd feeling of pleasure that mixed with the pain. One hand cupped your face while the other adjusted your leg over his waist.

“Does it hurt?” he said against your lips, you shook your head, no. that's all he needed to hear to attack you again.

His soft lips trail down your face. Cock slapping against your cunt, the sound filled the room with your unfiltered cries. Moaning his name in the most lewd voices. He thrusted inside of you. The same long and slow thrusts which had your entire body moving up the bed, but he was quick to adjust you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, begging for more. Dark red and purple spots scattered across your body like a map. He was biting and sucking without mercy, like he needed you in his blood, or maybe he just needed your blood.

“Sa-satoru!” you screamed, nails down his back. The bed creaked beneath you. What if it broke? Your mouth hanging open but eyes closed shut, basking in the pleasure of his veiny cock.

“..have the tightest fucking pussy” he groaned, words coming out like moans. His balls slapped against your ass, the sound of skin slapping wasn’t doing much to drown out your moans, neither was the music. Your body shook beneath, not just from the force of his ‘gentle’ thrusts but from your orgasm that was right there. Heat coiled in the pit of your stomach, making you squirm.

“Close.. Ngh- satoru ‘m close, so close” you rambled on, his hands soothingly moving along your body, quite the contrary to what was happening to your cunt. His forehead came in contact with yours. Taking his lower lip between your teeth and tugging on it, devouring his quiet pants and little moans. He clenched his jaw, staring down to catch you staring back at him.

His cock abuses your insides, hitting every spot, repeatedly slamming into your most sensitive spots that had you crying out his name. It’s like your cunt had already molded to the shape of his cock

“Cum.” he said, eyes not leaving yours, lips only a whisper apart. Your face twists in pleasure, clamping down on his throbbing cock, covering it in your arousal. He fights back his orgasm, soon after pulling out. Hard dick in his hand, fisting his drenched length, spilling his seeds all over your defiled pussy. Both your breathings were in sync, his large body dropping on top of you, face buried against your neck, torso still between your thighs.

Your body relaxed, especially your lower stomach after releasing all that tension. This moment alone felt more intimate than the sex itself.

“Sorry, was that too much?” you placed your hand over his head, running your trembling fingers through his hair.

“It was too good, that’s what it was” he smiled against your skin, letting out an airy laugh.

“She’s throbbing” not bothering to specify what ‘she’ referred to. It was obvious.

“That’s crazy, sherlock”

“Let's go again?” he said, sitting up like a puppy waiting for his owner to give him a treat

“Let’s fucking not. i’ll die”

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astrovcid · 4 months ago

Note

hear me out- HEAR ME OUT- rivals satoru and suguru where they’ve been fighting each other over dumb shit since middle school and competing for better grades, whatever.

and one of them has a crush on you… so the other fucks you first. and sends pics/ maybe even is on call with the other??

this is evil i fear

- ⭐️

cw: m@ting press, mentions of bre3ding, dub con? sorta, phone s3x sorta?, m@sturbation, rivalry, bi suguboo and satoru :3

i hope this lives up to ur expectations at least a lil bit😭

satoru and suguru, had known each other forever, for as long as they could remember. They had also been competing for EVERYTHING as long as they could remember.

satoru had always been number one at everything he ever tried, sports, cooking, gaming, welding, hell anything you could think of, he’d tried it and mastered in no time. It would drive suguru up a wall.

But there was one thing satoru could never beat him at… charming a woman. Sure he could get one in bed easy, no problem, but when he actually liked a woman? oh he was fucked. That is to say, he practically had ZERO actual game, no matter his looks or status, especially since it was YOU.

Someone who wasn’t fascinated by his wealth, talent or status. The very reason he fell for you, the moment his status and wealth didn’t woo you, it was like something clicked in place for him, something chanted over and over in his mind "her, its her" and from the moment he AND his rival realized, he knew he was screwed.

Suguru however? oh this is his specialty. His natural flirtatious behavior and laid back demeanor, combined with all that damn smooth talking he does, he could have any woman within a ten mile radius, head over heels for him in 48 hours flat. He was just that good. It was the thing he prided himself most on, the one thing he could do, that his rival could not.

he’d caught sight of how satoru stared at you on campus, the yearning— longing in his gaze. the way his cheeks would tint pink whenever you walked past him without a care in the world, because to you, satoru wasn’t even on your radar.

it wasn’t until suguru noticed his white haired rival picking up on his moves, similar jokes, smirks and flirtation tactics— that he officially had set you in his sights. no way was he gonna get the girl with his fucking moves.

it started as just the usual, antagonistic, petty rivalry at first. he never planned to take it too far, just flirt with you enough to let his enemy know to fuck off with using what he deemed rightfully his. he didn’t even want you—though somewhere along the way he noticed the way your lashes fluttered when you spoke to him, the way your gloss sat on your lips and your shy smile when you listened to him and— holy shit the way your tits sat on your chest, just perfect. fuckin perfect.

it didn’t take long for you to give in to him and all his charms. not because you were easy, no but because he was too good at this, too charming, too laid back, too addictive. something about him had you craving every bit of his attention, affection and god his touch, you wanted him so bad, more than you’d care to admit out loud, your inner voice screamed at you “more more more more” until finally you caved and found yourself in your current situation.

he had you pent up beneath him, legs spread wide and slung over his shoulders, your body folded like a lawn chair in the meanest mating press he could manage, his hands on either side on your body as he slung his hips forward over and over and over. bed creaking under the sheer weight of both your bodies. wooden mast of the headboard banging against your bedroom walls. god, your poor neighbors.

his angry mushroomy tip hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed until now. your maw slacking open to whine out “s-sugu s’too much! can’t t-take it!” your head was spinning, your velvety walls hugging him tight, greedy cunt pulling him in deeper as you cunt wept around his shaft and he hissed at the bliss of pleasure. “you c-can take it pre-pretty girl—hah…fuck” his hair pulled out of his messy bun, raven locks swaying with the mass of his moving body, as he fucked you deeper deeper deeper with every thrust. “s’all wet like this f’me hm?” he grunted as he moved a hand to swipe at your puffy lips, covered in your own thick, clear arousal, bringing his fingers back up and stretching them apart to look at the glistening string of your essence between them before shoving the digits in his mouth, groaning as he savored your taste. “mmmm so fuckin’ good, pussy so sweet.”

you only crooned in response as his veins swept over every orifice of your gummy insides deliciously. tummy bulging slightly from the monstrous size of his weighted cock as he bullied the hilt of your cunt. eyes rolling back as that ball of heat built slowly in your lower tummy with every plap plap plap! of his hips against yours. “suguuu! m’gonna cummm!”you cried out as a thin sheen of sweat began to form on your skin, as the squelching noises of your greedy cunt, your moans and his grunts filled the room. through the haze of lust and sex in the room, your phone buzzes from your nightstand and had it not lit up, suguru would’ve missed it, but oh- oh, he could not miss the name that popped up on the screen.

“satoru 🩵”

he was calling and oh he had the biggest shit eating grin plastered on his face as he reached for the phone and put it up to his ear, between his shoulder and cheek, answering. "hey gorgeous was just calling to see if you maybe-" his rivals voice rasped out before he cut him off "she's busy." he grunted as his hips never slowed.

for a moment he sat in silence at the sound of sugurus voice, denial settling in his bones, but the unmistakable sound of skin slapping against skin, whines and cries sounding off in the background— he had you, fuck, he actually had you, and sounding like that? satoru hated to admit it was making him unimaginably hard as he huffed through his nostrils on the other end of the line. “you fuckin’-”only to be cut off by suguru yet again, hissing at the way your pussy clenched around him, your orgasm on the horizon as you whimpered underneath him “hold on, gotta m-make her cum first, why don’t you just s-sit tight and enjoy the show?” he panted out as he tossed the phone back on the dresser leaving his rival to hear how he put you through the mattress from the other end of the line.

he yanked you down the bed, pulling you more onto his dick, every crevice of your poor cunt so filled with him you swore you were seeing stars and he was he in your lungs. his arms snaked around your waist as he tilted your lower half up and leaned his body forward just a tad more to find that reallll special spot inside, your mouth forming an “o” shape as he hit it “ah there it is” he smirked as he pistoned his hips roughly, pulling sounds from you, you didn’t even know you could make.

satoru from the other end of the phone, would never admit to the way he yanked his pants and boxers down at the sound of your moans and cries. the way his cock pearled thick beads of shiny pre-cum at the tip just from hearing the way you sounded— so desperate, so pretty.

no he would never admit that he muted himself on the call and fisted his cock so pathetically and angrily as he listened to the one man he couldn’t stand most, fuck you silly, the way he should be. he’d never admit how he was picturing your body and— sugurus too? as his hips bucked up into his hand, pumping his cock, moaning and whining desperately as he tried to match the strokes suguru was giving you.

and god he’d never admit that he came so hard from listening to the sounds his rival made when he came, the grunts and moans that sent him over the edge as hot spurts of his seed spilled out of him and into his hand while sugurus spilled inside of you, because your greedy cunt wouldn’t let him pull out in time or so he claimed.

he didn’t need to admit it though, because while he may have thought he muted the call, he didn’t, and suguru couldn’t miss the faint grunts emanating from the other end of the phone as he picked it up right after finishing “you know, if you want a threesome, you should just ask.”and with that, he hung up.

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for like a month or two bc i forgot i wrote it i’m sooo sorry if it’s, terrible i did notttt proofread it😭

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astrovcid · 4 months ago

Text

SPORTS CAR ✤ jujutsu kaisen

SYN. ➤ Zero decorum, max horsepower, full send. They don't just want the checkered flag, they want you wrecked and beggin'. This grid certainly doesn't play fair!

𝐉𝐉𝐊 ➤ Getō, Gojō, Tōji, Chōsō, Sukuna, Kashimo, Yuki, Shoko

cw ─ MDNI. afab!reader, FORMULA 1 AU, semi-publíc, praise, cockpit séx (highly inaccurate), possessive séx, chóking, spánking, reader is called 'bunny' in kashimo's, rough hándling, dírty talk, créampié, óral (f), mirror séx, backshóts, under the table, voice kínk, fíngeríng, overstím, squírting, medical pláy, tríbbing, strípping, cervíx kissing

wc. 8k

呪術廻戦 NOTE ( author says ) i've watched every sports car x f1 edit on tiktok i think. any likeness or resemblance to real f1 drivers is only a coincidence, nor is this reflective of the real profession 😭 didn't write this with particular racers or teams in mind.

☁︎ GOJŌ SATORU ➤ p1 & panting

". . he did it in tokyo, he did in kyoto, satoru gojo wins again, folks! that's his fifth prix win this season! absolutely unbelievable, my god."

the engine's still ticking down, the comms are crackling. you can barely register the deafening cheers before you're being yanked forward, senses overtaken by the scent of peppery armani.

"satoru –, wait," you're gasping, half-tripping into the cockpit as the pit crew's radio voice filters in.

"gojo, repeat, are you still in the car? you need to –"

but the headset cuts off with a click as he tears it from your ears, tossing it somewhere that you can't see. his crimson race gloves have been pulled off, but gojo's skin is still searing hot, slick with sweat and speed. pink lips parted, panting, not just from exhaustion, but from the look he's giving you.

"you're lucky i didn't pull you in mid-lap," gojo grins, and you fight the urge to tell him how impossible that would be, as his sharp white canines peek out from underneath his wolfish grin, flushed with victory, "baby, did you see that finish?"

you know the rational option here would be protesting, knowing that the team is probably workin' themselves up into a flurry in the garage, but it's hard not to feel light-headed and so damn hungry when gojo's gripping your waist, and dragging you just in front of the console, right up against the curve of the cramped cabin. thank god, the team opted for a mildly roomier cockpit this year, or else. . .

his helmet's off, snow-white hair a mess, and his jewel-blue eyes are electric, "i've got 'bout five minutes before they notice i'm not doing interviews." gojo's already pawing at your thighs, fingers desperate to tear down the waistband of your underwear, "i want them to wonder where i am."

gojo's teasing hands slips between your thighs, already playing with your slippery centre, and your boyfriend's leaning in, that rasp echoing against your cheek, "wanna show me how proud you are of your winner, baby?"

the car's still hot, the windows are fogging, and outside. . .the cameras are still flashing. but inside, it's just you and gojo, and the scent of burnt rubber and carbon fibre, and he's clearly not letting you go 'till you've screamed louder than the crowd.

gojo's already shoving his scarlet racing suit down to his shapely hips, movements sloppy with urgency as he settles you in his lap. long leaking cock already smearing a thin line of pre over his chiselled abdomen, "just a few minutes, sweets," he's murmuring against your throat, "we can make it work, yeah?"

you shouldn't, you really shouldn't. the entire paddock must be outside. the media, the team, the telemetry crew. . .everyone is either lookin' for him, or watching the live feed gojo's just abandoned. or they know not to look too closely, it's hard to challenge the king of the track when he's just pulled another podium win.

gojo's hands are rocking your hips back and forth, and he's determined to have as much of your slick coat his base before he truly snags his cock in. tongue laving at your jumping pulse, peppering sharp kisses against your soft flesh.

"t-toru –," you try, shaky breath catching as he continues to grind your folds against his cock, parting them to slot his thick shaft between them. teasing, and so sensitive.

"you looked soo hot standin' there," gojo murmurs, cerulean eyes lidded and starving to feel you drip arousal all over him, making a sticky mess, "lookin' so g-gorgeous, and – heh, this wet all f'me? is that it, baby? can't even think straight."

you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as his thick, bulbous tips snags against the hood of where you're most sensitive, giving your clit that most delicious friction you'd been craving.

"yeahhh," gojo purrs, nosing along your jaw, "i saw ya', crossed the finished line and thought how l-lucky i am that you're mine."

god, you just need to breathe through it, breathe through the incredible aphrodisiac that's called gojo satoru. he's already tweaking his fingers through your sopping cunt, dragging them against your folds to reach up and pinch at your clit.

"we don't have t-time –" but your thighs are shaking, heart already jumping at how close the stimulation has you to knocking on the door of a brilliant orgasm.

"i'll make time," gojo simply says, already lining himself up. the fucker's giggling to himself, heady and drunk from his win, slowly pattering his fingers up your abdomen as though he knows just how deep he's going to be. kneading at your groin, like x marks the spot.

the stretch simply steals the words from your mouth, rendering your language into a soft mush, shaken by how delicious his cock feels in your sticky, gummy walls. your head lolls against his broad, flushed shoulder — the creamy skin mottled strawberry-pink.

gojo's hissing, low and feral, absolutely gone as he holds you down, filling you straight to the hilt, each vein pressing and melding against your pussy.

"hahh, oh, baby," your boyfriend groans, bucking up once to test the clear water, fast and deep, like he wants to feel every tremble of your form above him, "always s-so perfect for me after a win."

the pace is brutal, desperate, made worse by how little space there is in the cockpit. your back slams into the dash, but it's softened by his large hand splayed across the skin. legs hooked haphazardly over his carved waist, bodies tangled in both victory and vice.

plap! plap! smack!

"ya' feel t-that," gojo pants, thrusts growing harsher, cock pressing up against that sweet spot that makes you sob, "that's what champions do, heh."

every low swirl of his shaking hips is hypnotic, and so dizzying, making a filthy mess that you know is going to puddle and seep into over his groin, soak into the curl of white hairs dusting the base of his girthy shaft.

"you gonna' cum for ya' w-winner?" gojo gasps, that priggish, love-struck grin still painted over his gorgeous features, even as his voice begins to shake, "say it, baby. tell me i'm your f-favourite."

"you, s-satoru," you half-sob, half-plead, "you're my favourite. god, it's so deep." wrecked, begging, and he groans like this is the podium he wanted all along.

your orgasm hits like white noise, blotting out the world beyond. you can barely register his stuttering hips, his sharp curses of your name, god, he loves you. his sharp breath hitches as gojo follows you over the edge.

satin-like ropes of cum shooting up to fill you up soo perfectly, and the world champion is sinking his teeth into your neck as he moans your name, low and ruined.

"i can't believe you were that horny n' hard after a race," you scold, body still trembling from the aftershocks. feeling warmth pool between your tacked groins, as your arousal mixes with him seed.

"you love it," gojo replies, not a hint of shame colouring his voice, "besides, this car's seen worse. like the time i got myself off, jus' thinking about you in spain. was only lookin' at you through the windows, that was enough."

"you did it on your own in this car, just from looking at me?"

gojo kisses your jaw, "don't shame me, i'm a sensitive man." he snickers as you smack his, holding you tighter.

outside, the pit crew must be losing their minds. but inside, gojo just won the real prize, and he's buried inside.

☁︎ GETŌ SUGURU ➤ in the devil's seat

the telemetry room is freezing, cold enough to keep everyone sharp and alert, absolutely on edge. but noting could make you more on edge than the hot seat that you're currently sitting in right now. just besides geto suguru, headseat askew, trying to not to moan when his fingers scissor through your folds again.

on the wall, the sector times update in real time, and god. . .the room is packed. screens flickering, engineers perched over the high chairs as they murmur, utterly focused on the little red dot zipping across the map.

see, you'd joined the team for simulations, not stimulations. but you're hardly one to complain, not when you know how much of an effect this has on geto. his sculpture-carved jaw is ticking, a faint flush blooming on the back of his neck that could be easily attributed to the excitement of the race.

"gojo, purple in sector two," geto's flatly leaning into the silver microphone, voice entirely level, "box this lap, copy?"

his other hand is under your waistband. two fingers, long and expert, utterly merciless, circle your slick folds deep and slow. knowing exactly how to make you tremble without a sound, thankfully, with the table in the way.

the rough pads of geto's fingertips are soaking up every beading drop of your arousal, his knuckles glossy with your release. he leans in, cool lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice low and determined, "c'mon, stay still. don't want my pretty girl embarrassing herself."

you can only nod, biting your lower lip so hard that you swear iron blooms on your tongue. but it had been hard to resist anything when geto suguru looked at you like that before quali, pulling you aside and asking you to shadow him during the race. violet eyes lidded, the faintest watercolour brush of rose plastered over his cheekbones.

and. . .your headset is still on. one wrong noise, one hasty move, and everyone will probably hear exactly how you shadow the famed geto suguru. you're sure your microphone levels are low enough so they don't pick up on the constant, sloppy squelch! of geto's middle and ring finger plunging into your dripping core.

"my clever girl," geto coos, but his eyes don't shift from watching the golden boy's onboards (gojo satoru, of course). well, aside from the temporary loss in his composure when you clench the sticky walls of your inner muscles against his fingers, his ink-dark lashes briefly fluttering wide in shock. lookin' close enough to spill a thick load in his slacks.

your body must be shaking now, your thighs trembling with the herculean exertion that geto's pulling from you. every new lap, every clean turn from gojo is matched by geto sinking his fingers deeper into you, drawing slack and curling up against that sweet, rough patch until you choke on a whimper.

a wan smile twitches his lips, almost amused. fond, even. he's caught it, he knows just how close you are to spilling over his hands. that release that he's just equally desperate to chase, geto needs you to fall apart on him.

"there it is," geto's purring, and you can barely hear the excitement his tone over the ringing in your ears, "good girl." someone's leaning over from behind, and thank god they can't see exactly what's been going on beneath the table, "suguru, sector 3 delta just spiked."

geto doesn't blink, temporarily halting the wet sloshes that he's composing between your thighs. rather, focusing some much needed attention on the swollen bundle of nerves beneath your mound, "that's expected. wind change near turn fourteen."

his thumb roughly tacks beneath the glistening hood, "you're doing so well," geto breathes against your temple, "think you've earned a reward after this. . .or a punishment, what'd you say?"

it only takes three more tender, pounding hits of his long fingers against the most sensitive spots. your eyes flutter shut, mouth pressed thinly as you're determined to not cry, nor gasp and moan. but each swipe of geto's digits against your clit undos your resolve further and further, your thighs shaking from the extra stimulation.

and when gojo wins the pole, cheers breaking through your headset, the room leaping to its feat, geto doesn't even flinch. he's slowly withdrawing his hand from your waistband. fingertips pruned, sticky and warn as he slips them into your mouth. discreet, hungry.

"clean up, gorgeous," geto gruffly whispers, his mauve eyes drawn to how your lips eagerly part around his index finger, "we should celebrate tonight."

your head must be spinning, legs numb from what geto has wrought from you, that dazzling orgasm that leaves the world awash in shades of silver and white. you can taste yourself, that bittersweet tang on his fingers, and it renders you dazed.

"thaaaat's it, beautiful," geto laughs, licking the last of your moans and release from his finger, "now you're learnin' real strategy."

☁︎ RYŌMEN SUKUNA ➤ crash into me

the door of the driver's trailer slams shut behind you, like a starting light hitting green. your back hits the wall you before you can even speak, before you can even wonder at what exactly has gotten into your fiancé now.

ryomen sukuna's warm hand is wrapped around your throat, a thumb gently soothing at the lower juncture of your jaw. his other hand is still smudged with track rubber and sticky grease, gripping your waist tight enough to deliciously bruise.

"they think i'm reckless," sukuna's voice is a hot, sharp growl in your ear, "then let's give 'em a reason to blacklist me, eh, sweetheart?"

perhaps it would be wiser to interrupt him, to warn sukuna that the media is still swarming outside, and this is the last thing the fia will tolerate from him. but russet eyes are almost. . .tender as they roam over you, his grasp on the base of your neck enough to make your brain melt and your knees forget how to hold you up.

"wanna' be my podium, girl? i should have you on your knees, don't ya' agree?" sukuna's still in his fireproofs, unzipped just enough to expose the broad, tan expanse of his chest. the inky-black tattoos crawling down his skin, some sin-streaked marks that you ache to press your lips to.

maroon eyes gleam, still utterly high off the chaos of the race, from the penalty that cost him his pole for the rest of the weekend. and you? well, you're gonna' have to be his victory lap instead.

you moan, wanton and improper, as sukuna's mouth teases down your neck, pressing to your collarbones before clawed nails tear open your blouse as though it's a paper flag, yanking you forward by a sturdy, yet thin chain. bringing you closer still, eye to eye with the racer that the world calls the king of curses.

and of course, what else would be dangling from the chain but his name? sukuna, the kanji letters encrusted with small precious stones, a gift that he had surprised you with for your most recent anniversary.

"hah, you wear this for me? cute lil' trophy like you're my number one fan, orrr my good luck charm?"

sukuna pushes you against the opposite wall, jostling the numerous trophies that already litter the shelves. you gasp, certain that pools of arousal must already be glistening between your thighs. his hand slides lower, rough and greedy, impatient as he tends to be. slipping past the lace edge of your panties to paw at your sopping folds.

he's groaning, hot and heavy, feeling just how wet you are. sukuna's almost ecstatic at the thought that his girl was walkin' around with such a. . .waterpark between her legs. primed to gush over him, to soak the base of his cock with every nasty thrust that he's daydreaming about.

"you're s-soaked, sweetheart. you're likin' this, aren'tcha?"

your head lolls as you nod, succumbing to the sweet hands of pleasure throbbing below your groan. sukuna smacks your thigh, and the force is hard enough for your eyes to flutter open, his warm hand gently running over the stung skin to soothe the flesh, "eyes on me, girl. remember what i said 'bout being my podium? ya' gotta' earn it."

there's little warning before sukuna scoops you up, lifting you bridal style, only to throw you down onto the little couch in the corner of the trailer, yanking the remainder of his race suit down with a snarl, "s-see, this is what they gotta' know. i can't do. . .slow or soft. i win, heh."

you know full well that sukuna is capable of both slow and soft, and thick, heavy strokes that dig through your cunt as he often holds you down in the most delicious mating press. but you're not eager to quite rain on his ego parade, unless, of course, it's a different sort of rain from between your legs that he can eagerly lap up.

sukuna must be leaving marks on your hips, teeth on your collarbone, handprints on your thighs. each thrust of his thick, wide cock must be some punishment for the stewards, for the world, for the fact that he didn't really get to break someone out there today.

but you, his gorgeous wife-to-be? you can take it, and sukuna has to hide the rapid flush blooming over his face, opting to nip at the back of your neck.

"we're gonna' do this 'till those fuckin' stewards retract that penalty," sukuna pants into your ear, thick cock rummaging sweet patterns right up into you as the tufts of soaked blush-pink hair are pressed right against you. imprinting the thick vein that runs along the underside of his cock in a way that has you seeing stars and gasping oh so prettily, "or 'till the walls fall in, whichever comes first."

☁︎ TŌJI FUSHIGURO ➤ wrenched wide open

it started with a wrench, and no, not a metaphorical tool. a literal wrench, dropped from your armful of gear, clanging far too loudly against the concrete in the empty garage. you're flinching, cursing under your breath. it's past dark, rain still slickin' the floor outside, and most of the team's already gone.

you shouldn't be here, you're just the rookie. you're supposed to be following orders, not fuckin' around with loose bolts and leftover adrenaline. which is exactly when you realise that you're not quite alone.

the metal shutter behind you slams down with a mechanical growl, loud and final. you whip around. . .toji fushiguro. beefy arms folded, sweat clinging to the curve of his neck. verdant eyes darker than engine oil, and just as dangerous.

he doesn't speak right away, just watches as you clench your thighs, almost sub-consciously (or so he thinks, little does he know that you know just how to rile him up).

"you always this sloppy, doll? or just when i'm watching?"

your skin is flushed, heat crawling up your spine as though it's chasing the storm outside. toji's eyes are deliciously dragging down your body, lingering on the curve of your hips, the way your soaked polo clings to your chest.

he knows exactly what you want.

toji's already moving, and he's on you in two steps, rough fingers curling around your wrist, grunting as he tugs you backwards. your spine hitting the warm sidepod of the car, the paint is still slick from rain and truck dust, and it makes you shiver.

"i rebuilt this v6 before breakfast," toji mutters, voice thick with gravel, and the promise of upcoming sin, "let's see if you can last longer than that."

one of toji's veined hands are braced beside your head, the other already on your thighs. teasing, slow as they drag up your soaked coveralls until —

"you ever been fucked like this, doll? no? good, first time for everything."

toji doesn't wait, he doesn't hesitate, for he lifts you as though you're just another part he's decided to torque into place. your legs wrap around his waist out of sheer instinct, and he's grinding deeply into you. a thick and heavy bulge pressed right up against you, his scarred lips grazing your ear, "look at ya', all squirmy for me in your pretty team gear. bet ya' touched yourself thinkin' about this, 'bout me."

hah, he's right. but you're not going to give him the express satisfaction of knowing just how many times you had straddled the edge of your bed back in the hotel, legs spread wide as you softly grazed your swollen clit with rough fingers, imagining it was toji picking you apart.

you stifle a lazy, drawn-out moan when toji finally shoves your coveralls down, when grease-stained fingers slide between your thighs with no patience, just raw want. you can see how toji's jaw slackens, maw wide at how soaked you already are.

"f-fuck," toji grins, pressing his forehead to yours, so his choppy raven bangs gently kiss your skin, "you're wetter than the goddamn track out there, doll."

his fingers are fast, expert and precision-tuned. two knuckles deep and curling just right, while toji's other hand fists in your shirt, dragging you against his muscled chest, "stay quiet f'me." and it's not a suggestion.

you try, but the noise still slip in tiny gasps and stuttering moans, caught against his shoulder as he works you open with practiced ease. your hands claw at his arms, at his rippling biceps as he preps you.

"that's it, gorgeous, let go. you gon' cum for me already?" toji grunts, thumbing at your clit with precise precision, "yeah? who knew you'd like being handled like a busted part? it's okay, girl, i got you."

you're shaking, barely biting back a whimper as he works you right through, feeling his lengthy cock already hard and pressing through his thick, rough pants.

it's an earth shattering orgasm that launches right at you, your back arched against the side of the car, his fingers still dipping through your glossy folds. toji's coaxing you right through the orgasm as if he's fine-tuning a prized engine.

and then, he's pulling right back. unzipping his pants with one hand, the other still planted firmly between your thighs, "hope ya' weren't planning on walking tomorrow, doll."

the wiry, fine hairs at the base of thick cock immediately brush up against your ass, such was the firm precision and speed of toji jackhammering himself into his new delightful home. heavy and deep, so you can feel the smack! of thick, weighted balls against your plush flesh.

the stretch burnin' in the best way possible honestly, and you're crying out, but his palm claps over your mouth immediately, emerald eyes narrowed and sleazy grin crooked, "ah, ah, gotta' be quiet. wouldn't want the interns hearin' what their favourite engineer gets up to after hours, eh?"

you just moan against his palm, and toji groans. hips slamming harder, rougher and relentless. his other hands grabs your jaw, thumb sliding down to press into your throat, not choking. jus' holding, reminding you who's in charge. for now, you blithely wonder, visions of milking toji dry already blooming in your mind.

but it's hard to not fall apart almost immediately, his thick tip swabbing at your most sensitive points. twitching, and pulsing, clenching around toji's cock in a way that makes him follow suit. thick, glossy ropes of heavy, strong cum spurting right out of him, the sheer volume so much that it leaks straight out of you, dribbling down your thighs.

toji's biting hard enough to leave marks, claiming and branding. and you would swear that you hear him whisper sweet nothings that he would sooo deny in the morning, praises about how you're the sweetest thing ever, and he's just gotta' have you.

and then, simply just because he's toji fushiguro, he grabs the nearest shop rag, wiping at the mess from your stomach and thighs without blinking. stuffing it into his pocket as though it's nothing, "gonna' head back and get myself off with this doll, see ya' at the briefing tomorrow." already zipping up, packing that monster-length cock (yeah, seriously) back into his pants.

and. . . did he just steal your panties? you stare dumbly after him, hearing his footsteps recede as your maw slackens, before you quickly pick up the pace, "hey! toji, wait up!"

☁︎ CHŌSŌ KAMO ➤ throttle control

you noticed choso kamo before he ever even spoke to you. everyone else at the pre-season shoot was all swagger and self-tanner, yelling over for each other and muggin' for the cameras like it was monaco already.

choso, though? off to the side in full black and mauve team gear, rain jacket zipped up despite the heat. headphones in, hazel eyes still as he seemed to be gunning for the most not like other girls title ever.

not shy, not awkward. just. . . still. like the calm before the thunder, the silence before the powerful storms that often rolled in with your fellow drivers. like gojo satoru or hajime kashimo, ugh.

he's often quiet, and never resistant. rookie drivers usually have some sorta' ego or walls. choso has neither. he just nods, your name falling from his pale lips in low and reverent symbols. moving aside so you can stand beside him for the sponsor shoot. no plastered, winning smile, just eyes that track you like the managers track the telemetry data.

you ignore the heat curlin' in your stomach, or you try to. and it's just soo much worse when you catch his eyes on you, watching again. and again, as though you're a famous painting with strokes that he wants to memorise and commit to preservation.

so, there's really no other move but to corner him after the barcelona press run, heart pounding like a misfiring clutch, "what?" you're teasing, "you only speak in throttle maps and finish times?"

choso says little and less, but his voice is as quiet as rainfall as he sniffs, cheeks flushed sakura-blossom pink, "i would touch you, if you would have me. and then, i wouldn't know how to stop."

yeah, you remembered that you stopped breathing after that, right when everyone was being rushed into their cars, the respective engineers snappin' in their ears.

but choso crashes out in a stormy qualifying. a rookie mistake, too fast on the apex, rear tires losing grip. he's not hurt, thank god, but the radio teams go dead, and when you tumble back to the garages, he's soaked, still in his fireproofs, fists clenched with eyes dark and hollow, as though he's miles away from here.

"choso –"

he grabs you, not harsh nor urgent. just sudden, desperate. right behind the stacked tire warmers like a man starving for you, and you only.

"don't leave, angel," choso pants, voice ragged against your neck, "not yet, need to feel something good, something. . . that isn't failure. i mean, c-can i –"

you nod once, a thick lump suddenly in your throat presenting an ironic whiplash to the low throb in your groin. it starts soft, it always does with him, and it doesn't surprise you.

choso's hands are wet, shaking, ghosting up underneath your compression top. one glove still one, the rough texture pinching your pert nipple, teasing over your chest. the other glove? he pulls off with his teeth, slow and silent as he tosses it away. touching you like every second of it is a prayer answered.

and then, finally, choso kisses you. not a peck, nor testing. devouring. slick mouth on yours as though it's the last lap, and you're the checkered flag. his tongue drags against your lips, fingers twisted into your waistband as though he's afraid you vanish from his grasp.

"y-you're the only thing that makes me lose control like this, angel," choso whispers, voice raspy and streaked with gravel, barely audible under the storm still hissing off the track. he's got you on the back of the wall now, kisses trailing lines down your throat, soft teeth scraping skin.

you can only arch for him, dizzy with the weight and want of him. knowing exactly what typa' width and length he must be packing in the pretty curve of his blue-veined cock.

his hips grind against yours, slow at first, as though he's restraining himself, but the second your mouth releases a soft whimper, "cho –, please," well. . . the switch flips, and he's gasping. mouth biting at your jaw, your collar, hands suddenly everywhere.

gripping, pinning, claiming. his glove slides under your panties like silk over fire, fingers moving in smooth n' practiced strokes that make your knees buckle.

"so w-wet already," choso murmurs, breath warm against your skin, "you like when i touch you like this, angel?"

you nod, or maybe, you cry out in pleasure. he swallows up the sound with his mouth on yours. fucking you with his fingers 'til you're shaking, overstimulated, clutching at his dark fireproofs with nails and moans, and fevered pleas of more, choso! more!

"been thinkin' about how you'd sound," choso groans, face buried in your neck, "when i make you cry." and you do, from the pressure, the stretch, the relentless way he owns every inch of you.

his other hand quickly pushes the band of his boxers down. revealing the prettiest cock that you'd ever laid eyes upon, glorious and standing tall, and already leaking. your mouth waters, salivating at the idea of laving over each purple vein.

so when he finally pushes into you, raw and thick, buried deep, your whole body arches into his. slotting like the most perfect puzzle pieces, as choso whispers your name as though it's holy.

"mine," choso breathes, fucking you slow and deep, and you feel almost heady on his scent (well, that and the wafting fuel). but he rummages his cock through you as though he's carving you right out, "mine, say it. p-please, say it, angel."

oh, and you do. over and over, 'til it's not even words anymore, just sounds, sobs, tremours between kisses and moans, and skin on skin. after, when your back is sticky with heat, and his mouth is still at your throat, choso doesn't let go, peppering his lips to your waiting mouth, "i'm sorry, didn't mean to be rough."

you have a faint vision of headlines tomorrow, tiktoks being posted blatantly circling the blooming love bites over your neck, and you just can't help but pull him in closer, looping your arms around his thick neck to meld your lips against his, "don't apologise, cho. just don't stop."

his smile is small, tired, but lovestruck. kissin' you again like he's already addicted.

☁︎ HAJIME KASHIMO ➤ disqualified for conduct

so. . . you had been warned. every other pr manager on the team had handed you his file like it was some cursed object. one crossed himself, another just whispered, "he's impossible to manage, good luck."

they were talking about hajime kashimo, the track's golden boy, of course. thunder on the track, a menace in the paddock. the gist of it was pretty simple: he wins, he grins, he fucks.

you figured it couldn't be that bad. you'd handled difficult drivers before, all of their inflated egos, tempers and tantrums, so why would you not be ready?

oh, how wrong you were.

he doesn't even try to pretend to be decent during interviews, flirting and batting his lashes through every question like the camera was his bedroom mirror. you did your best to pretend your breath didn't hitch, and your thighs didn't jump and clench with each 'good girl' bestowed upon you.

"tch', kashimo, zip up those fireproofs. you gotta' be on the big screen in ten."

teal eyes undoing you (truly, undressing you) with lightning-precise intensity, "you can zip 'em up now, bunny. and you can unzip them after podium too."

"go fuck yourself."

"oh, when you say it like that, maybe –"

yeah, that sums up the push and pull relationship between you and hajime kashimo. so it's not a vast surprise when it all pools over one hot afternoon in monza. practice is long over, and the team is distracted by data feedback and tire degradation, somethin' about slamming down the big hotshot, gojo satoru.

but of course, 'round the corner, it's just your luck. kashimo, half-naked, towel slung low, with cyan hair loose and damp over his toned, sculpted shoulders. you try not to trail your eyes past the beads of exertion that slick across his carved abdominals.

"keep looking at me like that, gorgeous," kashimo snickers, towel slipping just an inch in a way that answers the question of whether the carpet matches the drapes, "and i'll put you in my cockpit instead of the car."

you shove him, doing your best to fight the furious flush threatening to sink you to your aching knees, "seriously, that's the best you could come up with?"

"is that a yes, bunny?"

"only if you win tonight."

ah, but you should have known hajime kashimo is never all bark, no bite. he walks the talk, and there's nothin' that man craves more than a challenge, a fight to get his blood roaring.

it slips your mind entirely, that vow of yours, not even when the entire team is leaping up and down, pulling each other into tight embraces as kashimo scores pole position once more. his turquoise, jewel-tone eyes are bright, wild despite the late hour and the physical exertion of over an hour of supersonic speed.

a hand is already pulling you into the back of the motorhome, setting you right down over. . . the champagne crate.

"hah, knew i had to win out there, gorgeous. knew i had to win just for you."

it's hard to know who initiated it, but you're kissing kashimo, and he's kissing you, — pouring the taste of expensive liquor and mint into your mouth as you suck on his tongue, rake your nails through his scalp.

kashimo's whirling you around, sinking his sharp teeth into your neck, "let's do a lap, bunny. face down, ass up? i can show ya' my best handling."

yeah, what hajime kashimo lacks for in hefty girth, he makes up for in sheer length. kashimo's groaning into your ear, hissing as his cock finally sinks into the soft embrace of your glistening pussy, one hand on your hip and the other rattling hard enough against the plush of your ass to leave fingerprints.

smack!

"sound off for me, gorgeous."

smack!

"thaaaat's it, be loud. everyone should know that i'm the one who's got ya' so pretty, just folded over for me."

you're gnawing on your lower lip, tugging at the skin, desperate to not babble out mindless cries of his name, and kashimo notices. and he's no fan of that, elegant hands grabbing your hair and pulling you up so you can both face the truck's back mirror.

"look at yourself," kashimo pants, still thrusting so deep in you that you're certain each vein has been permanently memorised and printed in your guts, "look at how good ya' take me, like you were built for it."

" –jime, hajime, 'm close," you whine, eyes absolutely cross-eyed and hazy as you let yourself get lost in the sweet, sweet sensation. moaning his name broken and breathless, and it's enough to shatter the infallible kashimo.

kashimo's grunting, a thunderclap in your ear, as he tears the remainder of your underwear off with a sodden rrrrrip! whirling you around once more to hike your leg up onto the crate, swung around his waist to draw him closer inwards.

you know when he finishes inside you, as though he's chasing the fastest lap. hard, quick and deep enough to leave your legs boneless and quivering.

"gonna' make you c-cum again," kashimo groans against your ear, kissing your shoulder as he mouths at your tits, "one more. c'mon, bunny, give it to me, i earned that trophy. wanna' fuck you in my racing suit next."

☁︎ TSUKUMO YUKI ➤ manual override

you still remember your first interview with tsukumo yuki. she had flounced into the room with her black race suit peeled halfway down, sports bra damp with seat, sipping champagne from the bottle.

but you had barely finished your first question before the statuesque blonde had leaned forward, gaze hungry, "you wanna' talk about control systems, baby, or do you wanna' know how i make people lose theirs?"

you should have walked away, but instead, you watched her lick frothy champagne off her thumb like it was all you ever wanted. and you were. . . hooked. now yuki seeks you out in the paddock, every time, pressing too close, tugging you closer by your lanyard, murmuring in your ear, "lookin' a lil' stiff, doll. want me to loosen you up after quali?"

so, this time, she had just set p3 in the wet, slippery rain. helmet already peeled off, golden hair flipping over her face as she catches sight of you, recorder in hand.

"yuki, congrats on quali! do you think the wet weather gave you any –"

a quick hand snatches the mic, plucking it right off your collar and shoving it deep into her thick pockets, "baby, we got plenty of time later, hah, for an interview."

that adrenaline-high look in her big, brown eyes is all too recognisable, and you should have foreseen how she'd drag you right behind the trailer. pinning you to the hood of her personal car, no doubt worth millions, skin still searing from the race.

"come onnn, ya' like fast girls, don't you," yuki whispers, voice a low purr, her sun-streaked hair tickling and kissing your cheek. she's laying you flat across the hood, race suit still hanging half-on, grinding her hips down until you're gasping, biting your lip with whimpers of please, please. . . more!

"say it louderrr, sweetheart." her lips pressed to your navel as you whine for her to sweep her tongue even lower.

"c'mon, you interview champions, right? maybe in your interview, you can tell the press how good i fuck." a kiss now dotted over your hips, slowly following the juncture angle down to your throbbing mound.

"y-yuki," you mewl, unable to hold back the hungry, raw cry when she parts your thick, outermost folds to suckle at your clit, "ouuh, so sensitive. . ."

no mercy, no hesitation. she laps at your folds as though she's setting the fastest lap record, grinning as you're shaking, "that's my pretty girl. still breathing?"

if you wrench your head far back enough at an uncomfortable angle, you can see just how filthy the sight is. yuki's entirely on her knees now, golden hair splayed about her as she nips and licks at your dripping cunt, her chin all glossed up as she drags the lower half of her face through your wetness.

through the haze, you realise that yuki's murmuring something. groaning low into your pussy as though she's speaking to her. the biceps in her muscled arms rippling as she slathers a thick kiss to your cute, twitching clit, "three."

her short fingernails trailing through your cunt, teasing at your winking, glossy entrance, "two."

pink lips separating from your pussy with transparent, clear strands of tangy glossy, and yuki's smacking her mouth, clearly some form of pussydrunk that only you unlock within her, "one."

and bulls-eye, the scrape of her finger in a crooked, come-hither moition against that small, rough patch in your pussy makes you squeal, then groan. the sensation building up until it's just too much and you're gushing over her face. thin, liquid arcs splattering against yuki's beautiful, delighted features as she slaps at your sopping pussy.

"think they'll let me keep a strap in the trailer just so ya' can do that alll over again?"

☁︎ IEIRI SHOKO ➤ flatline me

who hadn't heard of shoko ieiri? the doctor for your team, the surgeon, gorgeous with cinnamon brown hair and dark eyes. you had gotten used to seeing her with a lighter in one hand, and your medical file in the other.

stitchin' bodies back together with blinking, and yet, she couldn't care less about your hotshot reputation. and frankly, you only wanted her even more. so when you ended up with your top off, sprawled on the infirmary table after some stupid spin-out, icing your thigh and nursing a bruised shoulder, you had tried to be charming.

"am i finally your favourite patient, doc?"

shoko only glances up from her scrawled notes, the barest twitch of amusement tugging at her glossy, peach lips. she was still striking a match, lighting a cigarette with practiced ease, her gaze settling on you like a blade to skin.

"hah, hardly," she huffs, "but you could scream the loudest, how 'bout that?" elegant fingers already coming to rest on the waistband of her blue slacks, and you can't help but gulp. resisting the urge to blow your cool or let out some obscene looney-tunes ass wolf whistle.

"strip," shoko murmurs, her tone cool, "i can't help you get better unless i can a proper look." she must be confident that no one would dare interrupt her, that none would walk in while you're urgently pulling your sports bra off your head — and she's discarding her pants elsewhere, revealing creamy, pale thighs that you're desperate to sink your teeth into.

you can feel her oak gaze on you, cataloguing every bruise, every scrape as though you were just another anatomy lesson. but you certainly don't miss how her pink tongue briefly laves over her lower lip, her eyes widening as they roam over your bare chest, focus on how you shimmy right out of your racing suit — till you're bare and naked, legs crossed one over the other .

chilled fingers finally touch your thigh, prodding the faint bruise you've acquired with sharp pressure. you're not ashamed to admit it, a moan escapes your trembling lips.

"you're sloppy, sweet thing," shoko mutters, voice as smooth as ill-fated poison that's honey to your ears, "crash dummy with a death wish."

you hiss as she slaps your thigh, just once. . .not gently. her eyes focused on how your flesh ripples under her touch.

"diagnostic," shoko adds, lips quirked faintly as your body tenses under her hungry gaze, "don't whine, 'cause i warned you." her hands are cold, and the soft pads of her fingertips pinch at your hips, pulling the tender flesh up as your thighs clench. you know that there must be some translucent slick seeping into the medical bedding beneath you.

"i don't think you've earned this," shoko concludes, finally pulling away from you, "but i'm tired of standing up." her fingers hook into the elastic band of her sleek, dark underwear, pulling the fine-woven fabric down until she can kick it off.

leaving your mouth slack in awe at the wondrous prospects you've landed with — the soft curl of dark hair between her thighs, and how shoko's pushing your hips down, climbing onto you so you can peek a flash of slippery pink as she settling over your groin. your pussy already pulsing and twitching at the mere brush of contact between the two of you.

shoko straddles you now, her lower half entirely bare as she pins you in place, cool hands running over your bare chest, your wrist, your jaw. she's still got her tight-knitted blue top clinging to your chest, the white coat thrown over her shoulders, and you're desperate to peel them off her.

"keep quiet, sweet thing," shoko orders, her voice a low hum against your throat, "or i'll have to find another way to shut you up." it's obscene, hearing the wet, sloppy slick of your folds kissing hers.

god, she moves like she's dissecting you, studying you. controlled, methodical and merciless. you're already shaking beneath her, every nerve burning, every sound you made swallowed by the pressure of her palm over your tongue. or the bitter taste of dark coffee on her tongue.

your body arches, hips twitching to desperately attach against hers, aching to feel the kiss of her clit against your own. flushed muscles quivering as whines of her name fall from your lips in a begging, pleading tone, but it doesn't seem to move shoko to helping you finish faster.

"don't be pathetic, pretty," shoko pants into your ear, her sleek dark hair falling over her face. and it's some satisfaction to know that she's just as affected, and that the low throb against your groin is her filthy release absolutely drenched over you, "i've barely even started."

everytime you felt as through your climax was in arm's reach, her touch would ice over, only to flood you with heat again, a cruel rhythm that left your head spinning.

"you look good like this, sweet thing," shoko murmurs, tilting her head as she straightens her spine, angling her hips so she can press herself to your sticky folders even more.

you whimper, and she laughs — even as your legs can't stop shaking and you feel too fucked-out in this bed of pleasure to even form a coherent thought. until all you can chase after is the fastening pace of her hips against yours, the sight of shoko dipping her fingers between your folds to sip at your arousal.

you're not even embarrassed at the utterly pornographic moans escaping your kiss-stung lips, sharp cries of shoko's name echoing through the infirmary as she soothes sharp circles over your clit, grinding her pussy against yours with your thighs intertwined.

"god, you taste so s-sweet," shoko bites off, dark eyes peering down at you, almost as though she's embarrassed that you've pulled these reactions from her.

wet cunts tacked to each other as she swipes a hand behind your back, pulling you up so she can hook her legs around your waist. jostling up n' down, over and over, and you catch the doctor's almost wolfish grin, she's guiding your hands beneath the fabric of her top, "c'mon, are you gonna' help me or not, baby?"

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astrovcid · 4 months ago

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meanboyfriend!toji fucking his innocent virgin girlfriend :3

your ruffled lace socks are on either side of his head as he rolls his hips against your plush ass, thick cock stretching you past your limits. he looks down at your soft belly, eyes gleaming with amusement as he watches the way his cock bulges through it. "am i too big for ya' baby?" he coos, there's so much mock softness in his voice it’s almost sickening, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand like he actually gives a damn. "i can see myself inside of ya'."

a choked whimper is all you can manage to respond with, your fingers dig into his muscular arms as he leans over you to steady himself on top of you, caging you in beneath his heavy body. you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel his fat cock sinking itself deeper from the new position, splitting you open and it burns. the stretch forces a high, broken whine from your throat, your walls fluttering helplessly around him.

clinging to his strong arms, your eyes flick nervously to the plushies lined up on your shelf—those innocent little stuffed animals with their glossy plastic eyes all pointed your way. they’re watching.

it makes your face burn hotter.

toji notices. of course he does.

“what is it, princess?” he teases, slowing his thrusts just enough to draw your attention back to the deep ache between your legs. “your little friends seein’ you get fucked for the first time?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, hiding your face in his arm. “d-don’t look at them…” you mumble, humiliated.

he laughs, a low, breathy sound, and leans down to press a kiss to your temple. “you’re so fuckin’ cute.”

then he shifts, hips snapping forward, forcing another whine from your throat as your gummy walls flutter around him, trying and failing to accommodate all of him.

toji clicks his tongue, leaning down to press a firm kiss to your damp forehead. "does it hurt, baby?"

"n-no... keep going." you huff softly, biting your lip.

you're a mess beneath him, cheeks flushed, sweat sheening your skin, hair sticking to your forehead in damp strands. your lips are kiss-swollen, puffy from the way he's been biting at them. your tits bounce with every sharp thrust, every punishing grind of his hips, pulling ragged cries from your throat.

he knew it was your first time, and he'd actually debated wether he'd be sweet to you, do that cheesy romantic shit he hated, whisper pretty words and take it slow—play the role of the perfect boyfriend only for tonight. or if he should fuck you hard, that would he fuck you so good, so deep, until then only word you could babble was his name. now that he's inside of you, it's starting to feel like a mix of both.

grunting, he hooks his arm under your back and lifts you off of your bed, hugging you against his chest tightly as if you weigh nothing. your arms wrap around his neck, legs locking tight around his waist as he keeps bulling his cock into you, hitting your cervix so hard you swear he's gonna break you.

his breath his hot against your face as he inhales your sweet perfume sharply, furrowing his brows as he keeps fucking you until you start going limp in his arms.

“i’ll love you forever, you hear me?” his voice is rough, almost strained.

a weak, breathless “yeah.” is all you can say.

but toji smirks, knowing you'll remember this for the rest of your life.

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astrovcid · 5 months ago

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✎ᝰ. OCT 1ST ★ BONDAGE - satoru gojo .ᐟ

[CHAPTER ONE RAPUNZEL] satoru gojo as flynn rider + bondage. once upon a time, a girl trapped in a tower with nothing but her extremely lavish, long hair as company decides…fuck it and sleeps with a handsome stranger to get what she wants ( 9.1K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, rapunzel!au, strangers to lovers, role reversal & switching, orgasm control, sensory deprivation, edging, thigh riding, spit kink, outer-course, begging, handjobs (m!recieving), reader's hair has blonde streaks but colour remains ambigous, rapunzel + fem!reader, flynn rider!satoru gojo.

✧ fairy godmother's note - yippieee!! kickstarting spooky season with this hefty boy. we have our glorious blue eyed king welcoming you all to our fourth annual tteokdoroki kinktober - i hope you all like what's planned this year and enjoy this piece to start with !! kissies hehe <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

“you’re going to take me to see the floating lights. or else.”

“or else, what, honey?”

ever since satoru gojo climbed the wooden lattice sewn to your tower by blooming, overgrown weeds and winding vines effectively invading the safest space in the world ( according to mother ), he’s been a pain in your fucking ass. when he’d first arrived, a towering and unfamiliar figure creeping about the main floor — your heart had dropped to the base of your stomach, pulsing rapidly with fear while he scoped the scene. you’d never come across a man before, mother had made sure of that, warning you of their cruelty and ugliness both inside and out. except satoru looked nothing like the descriptions your mother had left you with, you’d say that the man was stunning. not that you had much to compare him to.

his hair was a crisp white, appearing soft to the touch much like the snowfall that came in the winter months (something about playing in it. contrastingly, his eyes were a beautiful shade of baby blue — eerily similar to that of a summer sky free of cloudiness. he was too good looking to be human, for it to be natural, almost as if satoru had strolled straight out of one of the many fairytale books mother purchased for you from the markets. although, over the years you’ve probably read each book cover to cover a million times and not one fictional prince could even match this stranger’s sheer beauty.

though for now, this handsome stranger’s looks would get him nowhere with you. strangers always came with dangers, and since all you’d known throughout your years of living were these four walls, you weren’t going to take any chances with satoru and whatever problems he’d have brought with him. initially and out of an unfamiliar fear, you’d taken the nearest weapon to you (a frying pan) and cracked it right over his skull — watching the hunk of a human collapse to his knees and eventually black right out. if mother were around, she would have been proud. you’d tried not to feel any guilt trying to stuff his limp, lengthy limbs in your closet or under your bed because… well, what business does this stranger have with you? what the fuck is a man doing here? how did he get here? why is he here?

your whole life you’ve been convinced that the outside word was treacherous and that you had to stay inside, where it was safe, because people were horrible and selfish — intent on hunting you down for the powers that lay intertwined in the coils of your hair. those specific streaks that glow a valuable gold between the usual colour of your locks whenever you sang. mother would style them the way you liked every night — so long as you sung for her. you weren’t about to let mother down, nor risk the little life you built here together.

but, as it turns out, satoru wasn’t looking for the magic sprouting from your crown and entangled in your hair. it almost seemed like he had no idea about them either. rather, the moonlit haired man was looking for a place to lay low and hide after being chased through the forest for his satchel that seemingly carries something valuable. a crown… jewels that have a weight familiar to your head and sparkle like something you’ve seen before in a distant memory.

“come to think of it, honey, where is my satchel?” cocking his head to the side, sky blue eyes peer up at you with a charm that sends a foreign swarm of butterflies ripping through your stomach.

you frown, accusingly pointing your weapon of choice at gojo’s head and puffing out your chest to appear as intimidating as possible while giving him your name. “i’ve hidden it in a secure location—“

“it’s in that pot…isn’t it?”

as best as he can in the handcuffs he can call locks of your hair, the tower’s newfound infiltrator gestures towards a colourful pot in the corner of tne room. what? all you could think of in the moment is restraining him against the chair and why waste perfectly good rope when you’ve got such length to your own hair? the pot was the closest spot too.you knock him out swiftly after his guess, not giving gojo the satisfaction of finding his precious purse.

now, with the satchel hidden once more, satoru gojo semi-concussed and conscious once again — you realise that for the first time in your life, you have some kind of leverage to bargain with. you need someone to take you to see the floating lights that illuminate the sky on your birthday, every year. satoru needs his… crown? that so obviously doesn’t belong to him. of course, he would have stolen it, mother always said men were no good and always take what isn’t theirs (oh the irony). nonetheless, it was the perfect match of desires.

this way, you could prove to mother that you weren’t weak like she said you were. that you could cope by yourself and go explore the outside world. it wouldn’t be how it usually is with mother — where you ask for something and instantly get denied because she believes you to be too naive to function in a world outside of her. not this time. this time you have a bargaining chip. a satchel containing a valuable so rare that satoru was willing to risk his life for.

your captive wriggles against the restraints of your hair, woven around the chair like tough knots of a rope to keep him at bay. while the silver haired fox may not have canines like your mother suggested, you have no idea how powerful he could be. contrastingly, gojo finds your hair to be soft against his skin, ticklish along the veins of his arms despite how secure it has him strapped down. he’s forced to listen and to follow your every move across the floor plan, guided by the strength of your hair tugging him about.

“i have a proposition for you. come, look.” drawing back a curtain to reveal a painting from earlier — you recite your plan to your intruder. tomorrow evening, he will take you to see the floating lights … ahem…lanterns that drift across the sky on your birthday every year and then, return you safely to the tower before mother returns. it’s an easy deal. “i won’t give your satchel back until then,” you stutter out fiercely, adjusting your height and the grip you have on the cool metal frying pan. “you won’t get it back until you’ve taken me to see the lights.”

“oh whatever, i can just take it back, honey,” satoru goads, cockily ripping his head back in patronising laughter. even though the melodious sound makes irritation bubble hot underneath your skin, you can’t help the way your eyes are immediately drawn to the man’s Adam’s apple as it bobs delectably along with his chuckles. “as soon as i get out of this…hair? hair.” pale blue eyes flicker up to your face when gojo fixes himself in the seat he’s fixed to. they bore deeply into your soul, reading you with as much ease as you have flicking through the same three books that you own. you feel the weight of your hair shift around satoru’s shoulders as he gestures down to it nearly wrapped around his bulging forearms (not that you’d been paying attention). “this is kinda freaky, hon. don’cha think?” a slow sexy smirk tugs at the corners of gojo’s plush, glossy lips, or rather, he smoulders attempting to woo you into giving him what he wants. “you don’t seem like the freaky type, sweetheart.”

once more, a frustrated flame flares up in the middle of your chest — you’d feel offended for sure if you know what gojo meant. “freaky?”

“as in like… dubious?” he grins in response, running the pink tip of his tongue over his straight, perfectly white teeth. “this is basically bondage, yanno?”

you blink once. confused.

“improper?”

nothing, not one of these synonyms or explanations from the smiling idiot makes any more sense to you — bringing you to tilt your head to the side, innocently like a puppy that makes satoru laugh once more. this time it actually does something to you. sends weird butterflies fluttering in your tummy.

with a shake of snow white locks and an inhale that sounds amused as it goes, your hostage clicks his tongue — letting those cooling blue eyes slink up and down your virtuous frame . the swell of his lower lip trapped between pretty perfect teeth. “as in sexy, sweet thing.” satoru’s sickly sweet and powdered sugar coo slips through one ear and out of the other like hot, viscous molasses, you immediately shudder — flustered down to the meat on your bones, curling in on yourself as your faux intimidation tactics melt from your body and slip between the floorboards beneath your bare feet. “gosh! you’re so innocent,” his gaze rips away from you, and you fight back an unexpected whimper, missing the intruder’s gaze on you. “guess that’s what being trapped in a place like this does to a darlin’ thing like you. you wouldn’t last a day out there.”

he’s patronising you. speaking to you as though you’re no more than a child. however, being talked over and down on is all you’ve ever known, especially from your mother… but the way he acts reminds you of all of the advice she’s bestowed upon you over the years. mother tells you all the time, how naive and silly you are. how people will try and take advantage of your looks and your kindness. and so you decide to use your mother’s advice — if all humans, act like dogs, you’ll throw one a bone and wait for them to come back for more.

steeling yourself, you use a loop of your hair to drag gojo’s chair toward you — positioning him like a puppet beneath your cold, hard stare. he man spreads on the chair as best as he can in his restraints, leaning back while his seat tilts backwards on a forty-five degree angle — drawing your eyes from his face to his thick thighs momentarily. “you are going to take me to see the lights. it’s a promise, not a threat,” you whisper into the air that buzzes with tension between you both, leaning down and pinning gojo in place. you’re so close, so little proximity between your faces, that you can practically feel his warm breath lingering on the damp skin of your lips. “and i promise, i’ll make this worth your while.”

your voice lowers an octave, smooth and buttery and just right. like a snare for a wild white rabbit or bait on a hook — it peaks satoru’s interest, illicit thoughts and desires flashing behind his pupils like lightbulb ideas. “oh, honey. i can make you see stars alright,” he looks up at you then, with an expression of heat and thirst, dragging you into a pool of shining blue eyes that you barely manage to free yourself from. drowning in his attention once more. you stand over him proudly, between his legs smugly and all he wants to do is wipe the winning smile from your face and show you a real good time.

if he could, gojo would reach up and grab at your hips possessively, if he could he’d cup your neck and let his fingers toy with your baby hairs to pull you into a sloppy kiss. he can’t help the way white hot desire spreads through his system like throwing gasoline on an open fire and pile of wood. he grins mischievously, and in response, a brand new sensation stirs within your lower tummy — blistering hot as it zips between your chest and your core.

you sense the change in the atmosphere and gojo does too. both of you dying to scratch the itch on the part of your brain that is the control centre for lust. but you remind yourself what this is truly about, tell yourself not to get lost in the haze of it all, and will yourself to throw a loop of your hair over daring blue eyes like a blindfold — acting fast to secure a seat in an unsuspecting satoru gojo’s vacant lap.

he grunts in surprise, flinches when he realises one out of five of his senses are down. “what the fuck—?” gojo spits, cocky smirk melting away.

“shhh,” you taunt the man under your breath, leaning forward so that your voice coasts over the shell of his ear like a summery breeze. it invokes a sense of pride within your chest when your hostage tilts his head to follow your voice — his own breathing erratic and increasingly shallow with how he begins to struggle against your restraint on him. “you won’t get a chance to make me see those lights. not if i get you to see them first.”

in truth, you've got nothing planned. you’ve never been in the same room as a man, let alone pleasure them the way that you’ve read in books you’d borrowed from your mother.

the reality of the scene before you is daunting, giving up part of your virtue just to prove a point and get to see the floating lights like you’ve always wanted…but at the same time — it’s your one chance at freedom that’s at stake here. “you don’t sound so sure about that, sweetheart,” satoru taunts you with the peaks in his voice coltishly high. he continues to wrestle against the restraints of your hair — he’s strong and with a little more force he could escape but it’s like he senses your hesitancy.

like he knows for certain you won’t make good on your promise. just like mother.

that much is evident in the way his smooth, glossy lips tick upwards into an arrogant smirk.

your determination to prove him wrong grows more and more by the second, so before you succumb to your nerves again, you let your free hand claw with way over gojo’s right shoulder — steadying him, forcing him to sit still as you make a comfortable seat out of his widespread lap. he tenses at first, unable to see you move, but his grin remains, you have no idea if it’s because he’s proud of you or doubting you — but the expression only serves to piss you off even more.

“what’s next, sweetheart?”

a strangled growl is your only reply, the most menacing sound you can muster as you lift head upwards and his pool of loose silver-moon locks fall out of place. with a shuddering breath and a hold of gojo’s restraints, you press your lips to his in a shaky kiss — still unsure of where your lips go and what to do with your teeth and how to move your tongue. the captive beneath you knows it and takes advantage of your weakness, nipping at the swell of your lower lip gently — hardly enough to draw blood. satoru is testing you, telling you to be brave and take from him. prove to him that you’re willing to do whatever you want for him to make your silly childhood dream come true.

he allows you to fight back, despite this being your idea, lets you forcefully grab his angular jaw and capture him in a proper spit-swapping kiss. if he really wanted to, he’d find a way to escape from the tight bounds of your lengthy hair. but he doesn’t. gojo lets you swallow him down; push your tongue exploratively into his mouth and lap at his foreign flavour. he wants your tongue to take dominance from his, pink appendages sloppily rolling over one another, slipping and sliding as you take and take from satoru.

the kiss, already uncoordinated from your lack of experience, becomes hurried and hungry and wet the more you steal from satoru. you take and take and take until his glass his half full and his brain slowly becomes devoid of all logical thought. he comes the prey to your predatory mouth, missing the way your hand frees his pale cheek and fingers fluidly traverse down his broad shoulders, over his marble sculpted body to find purchase in the belt loops of his bothersome pants. now curious, you feel your way down the front of the fabric and grin into the hot and heavy kiss when satoru’s lets out a breathy, staggered moan into your open mouth.

his swelling erection twitches in response to your inquisitive hand, slender hips involuntarily jumping upwards.

“fuuuck,” satoru chuckles airily, words featherlight as they breeze along your lips. his head keens upwards too, chasing the weight of your hot sticky tongue in his mouth — desperate to be closer, craving the feeling of your nose knocking against his and your breath on his cheek from just how pressed up against each other you are. “fuck baby that’s it. kiss me more, touch me harder…” he’s addicted before he even knows what you have to offer, what he’s getting himself into. if you could see his eyes from under his binding, you’d bare witness to pleading blue pools swirling with a painful desire as he twitches beneath you, wriggling his wrists to get free. “c’mon, touch me.” he adds between sloppy pecks.

backing your face out of satoru’s reach, you break the drooly lip lock — letting your lungs fill with oxygen it had once missed, while your heaving chest syncs up with the intruder you have strapped to a chair. you pull away, connected to the man by not just your hair, but a string of saliva glazed across your lips — cautiously, your tongue dart out to break the the between your eager mouths, two sets of uneven panting filling the quiet air.

the two of you remain unmoving and unwilling to back down while you catch your breath; but your hand remains in the centre of gojo’s lap — rocking it back and forth, back and forth over his growing bulge. you stare at him, observing the reactions that he tries so hard to control. little twitches to his pink swollen lips and the flare of his nostrils whenever your palm makes contact with a sensitive spot. all this waiting is agony, the white haired captive might die if he doesn’t get more from you soon.

satoru whines impatiently as a result, knowing full well what you want and you won’t ask him again — not when you’re tauntingly squeezing his cock for a second, third, fourth, fifth time. he doesn’t fucking know — overwhelmed by waves of lust-infested blood rushes to its blistering hot tip. “fuck! okay, okay fine. i’ll take you! just—“ the chair rattles from the force of gojo’s struggle against your restraints, which hardly covers the low moan that escapes from between his plush glossy lips while his length pulses against the inside of his pants. “just fuck me. touch me. anything.”

something about his tone being all desperate and high activates a part of you that you never even knew existed. a part of you that knows what to do next… even if you haven’t acted it out, you’ve enough books to remember what the erotic ones say.

only then, after he pleads, do you use your shaky hands to tug down the garment — pulling them towards his knees as best as you can against your hair until the button pops free. the zipper follows easily and the waistband falls away from starlight skin and slender hips. everything gets hotter; any fresh air between your bodies becoming tinged with the need for sex as the scorching ghost of your fingertips leaves burn marks against satoru’s pelvis, and sends heatwaves of ardour from the base of his spine to the top of his skull.

satoru’s squirming pauses while he waits with uneven breathing for your next move — tongue pressing up against the barricade of his white teeth to prevent himself from taunting you further or perhaps to stop himself from belting out another pathetic set of whimpers. he wishes he could see you, those sweet innocent eyes looking down at him as you peel back the last layer of fabric stopping you from accessing his painfully hard erection. his underwear.

when you gasp in shock, pride weaves itself between the bones that protect his heart and lungs like an uninvited weed, he knows that he’s decent. longer than he is thick, bright red at his mushroomed tip and leaky from just how turned on he is. there’s a trail of silver moon hair that leads you down a path from his belly button to the thickest part of his dick too. but oh, how satoru gojo wishes he could see.. the way you lick your lips as drool drowns your tongue, mouth watering at the sight of his length slapping against his clothed stomach while he manspreads for you. the way your pupils dilate, the colour in your eyes swallowed by a dark veil of carnality.

this is a hunger you’ve never experienced before, a type of starvation that makes your hand lurch forward before your brain can control it, gripping satoru at the base of his milky, slender shaft. it’s the first time you’ve ever seen a cock; let alone held one between your tiny fingers — it’s much warmer than you anticipated, tacky to the touch from dribbles of precum running down from his untouched tip, but you like it. the weight, the wet sound it makes when you slightly flick your wrist around satoru. not to mention the stuttered groan he lets out, his head falling against the support of the chair and yanking slightly on the blindfold made of hair that covers his eyes.

if you weren’t sitting in his lap, you’d want him in your drooling mouth. you’d sink down to your knees like the girls in your naughty books and take him down your virgin throat, just so you could look up at satoru and watch the sweat bead down his jawline and run a track over his bobbing adam’s apple. but you’re not and you’ve got a point to prove, so you loop your hair around your other wrist to tighten his restraints and extend a thumb upward from his base to his seedy tip, jamming the pad of it through the slit where he pre forms in thick, creamy pearls. as white as those that come from an oyster.

“that’s it gorgeous, just like that…” satoru leers up at you huskily, voice tinged with neediness that he fails to mask. he seems to like the way you touch him and you’re sure to use a delicate hand when you smooth the supple pad of your thumb over the pad of his sensitive tip, rubbing his opaque precum into it sweetly. “touch me s’more? you can do it… i know you’re shy, can hear your breathing ‘n how heavy it is. shit, you’re new at this.” saliva slows down satoru’s salacious words as he rambles to you with swollen lips and rosy cheeks, angling his head in whatever direction your breath seems to be coming from.

he’s in tatters, destroyed by a few simple touches with his hard on smearing white across the front of his clothes. you roll your palm over his mushroomed cockhead next to test the waters and take pleasure in admiring the way he trembles, grasping at the arms of the chair you have him strapped to in order to ground himself. it’s torture for satoru to be this patient, killing him slowly from the inside out like a virus spreading across his brain and other vital organs — but it doesn’t mean you’re in any better state. practically dripping in his lap with your panties dampening more and more every time satoru so much as whimpers. past the point of being turned on by the sight of a strong, powerful man weak and blindfolded underneath you.

satoru bucks upward at your command, sucking in a breath as his sensitive, seedy slit bumps your palm once more. “s-shit… please.”

the improper ness of the entire situation sends a zap of electricity to your swelling clit. you’ve only ever imagined being with someone like this as you have seeing the floating lights — touching yourself beneath your skirts and under your painted ceilings whenever you were brave enough. now you’re here, spread over the thick thighs of a possible thief who begs you to jerk him off. “s-shut up,” you hiss as embarrassment and inexperience begins to shine through the deal you’ve struck with gojo, the fact that he can tell as much and still wants this has you soaked all the way through and aching for friction as well.

you’ve never been in possession of so much power in your life. mother never let you have it. but right now, you can taste it sparking between you and gojo, smell it in the air teeming mixed with a cocktail of your arousals. in the moment you realise that the silver haired man would cling onto every one of your sugar-coated words (no matter how nervous) if it meant he got the fuck he wanted in the end. and you would get to see your lights too.

“just… tell me what to do,” you say without realising how husky your own voice has gotten. “i promised you your crown, to make you feel good if you took me to see the lights. and i never go back on a promise. s-so tell me.” talking yourself into it and building up some more confidence, you circle over satoru’s bulbous cockhead again — gaze laser focused on the burning bright red colour as it oozes. you know that he likes it and it makes his head spin so much that he starts to fight against the restraint of your hair again. “i won’t let you go, not until this is over. so tell me what i can do to make you cum.”

despite not being able to see his entire face, gojo’s smug smile says it all — his perfect teeth cheerily on display, contrasting with the flustered pink tint to his cheeks. “cup it, make a fist around my cock so you can jerk me off’a little bit,” a haughty moan scratches at the walls of your captive’s throat when you follow his guidance and finally grip him fully, soft and supple hands easily dwarfed by the size of him. satoru’s shaft may be a little thinner, but he’s thick enough to fill your own throat and cause a stretch to your quivering hole with his balls being round, plump and full of white hot seed saved up just for you. “christ, squeeze my base a lil’ before you get movin’,” at first contact, satoru’s thighs tremble deliciously against your mound, blood rushing to your clit and through the forked veins that spiral down his length.

your senses are overwhelmed, he smells so good — of peppermint and a musky twang of sex act like dangerous smelling salts or fumes. you could get addicted if you weren’t careful. you’re super aware of each ridge and firm vein that decorates him and as you start to palm satoru steadily, you notice just how sticky your hand is — movements guided by the wet cream of his cock. slipping and sliding as your closed fist moves up and down, up and down, occasionally squeezing the base of him just like he asked. your knuckles brushing the soft bush of pubic hair at his pelvis. you can only imagine how everything feels for him, not being able to see at all.

the thought just barely crosses your mind — too focused on speeding up your soiled hand around gojo just to hear more of his angelic gripes and groans that rise and fall from his heaving chest. how good all of this must feel for the man without being able to see. every touch must make him tick and drip and throb achingly. he must feel weak too, completely vulnerable to anything you might do to him while blindfolded and unable to touch you because of bonds formed by your hair.

once you set a steady rhythm to your closed fist to jerk him off with, gojo takes a breather to announce his next command — head shaking side to side with moonlight locks sticking to his forehead in an attempt to alleviate the inferno of desire spreading through of his limbs. “now spit on it,” he states bluntly, an obvious dip to the octave in his voice. you can’t possibly imagine why he’d need spit; your hand is already glossed with a shiny layer of precum, tainting your knuckles from the viscosity.

you swallow thickly, but don’t dare stop pleasuring your captive stranger. “w-what?”

“are you kidding me just—“ leaning forward as best as he can while held back by the strong locks of your hair, like rope around his wrists. dopamine crackles over your brain like fireworks in an enclosed space at the scene that unfolds next, satoru pursing his lips to spit onto his own milky dick — letting the frothy mix from mouth join the mess that lubes the both of you up where connected. “just spit on it, honey. thought you wanted me to feel it.”

licking your lips, you rub down satoru’s girth far enough to drag the glob of spit down to his tender weighty balls, that pulse at your gentle touch. the feeling makes satoru’s entire body jolt like an electric shock — a gargled groan clambering out from the depths of his panting chest as his jaw goes slack and mouth falls open. “please. please spit on it, honey. god please.. need you to wet my cock. i need it so bad, promise i’ll be fucking good.” blind but with his remaining senses in tact, gojo remains largely vulnerable to your touch, his entire world tilting on one axis when you grip his dick a little harder at his request. causing a ring of white to gather where the circle of your wrist envelopes him.

at his begging. which you swear makes you gush like a small, erotic stream — your juices sloshing about in the gusset of your panties while your sex goes unattended.

so you nod obediently, tilting your head forward and parting your swollen lips to let a thick, syrupy string of your own spit ooze onto his plump and sore balls, stroking him rapidly to spread it over his creamy tip as well. your spit is contrastingly cool in comparison to the natural lubricant smeared all over your captive’s palpitating dick — causing it to grow impossibly harder. it slickens up your hand, evidence of the silver haired man’s arousal seeping through the fabric of his crumpled shirt and coils of your restrictive hair. neither of you can bring yourselves to care in the moment — all you can think to do is relish in gojo’s size.

he’s so big, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t wondered how satoru fit entirely inside your tight hole, stretching you out in the new future — earning yourself a fresh wave of liquid lava hot essence to your ruined panties. you dare to dream onwards, picturing the azure eyed stranger fucking you against the walls of the tower in every way the man knew possible… you have no idea what he’s capable of when untied. but the sight of him lazily thrusting into your filthied fist like it’s instinct, following it like a moth to a candle flame, is enough dream fuel to last you a lifetime. even after the deal is complete and the lights are just a distant memory.

eventually, you decide to pull off of satoru to give your wrist a break — walking your fingers up the broad expanse of his built chest to tweak his nipples between your tingling bodies. his entire frame is wracked with a case of shivers, mouth parting in a high-pitched, whiny whimper with strings of saliva connecting its roof to his tongue. you’re so pathetically turned on, drool pooling on your tongue like a hot flash flood.

it’s why you tighten your grip on your hair and thus his restraints, resulting in satoru staggering forward. closer, panting like a damn dog in rut. drawing your free hand up towards your lips and away from his pecs, the proximity between you becomes so little that satoru can practically smell the musky evidence of sex that you lick from your hand. “oh… you taste so good,” you lament in a dulcet tone, failing to miss the way gojo’s dangerous azure eyes dart about beneath his makeshift blindfold, probably dying to see you get a taste of him.

“d-don’t say that, you’ll make me fuckin’ cum, honey.” he gulps, involuntarily pumping his hips into the air, chasing your hand which he needs so desperately to feel good. “please don’t stop.” while begging you — satoru is the perfect picture of a ruined man, though you’re sure he would say the same about you if you hadn’t strapped your hair over his line of vision. his milky skin glistens as though it’s the very source of light for the silvery moon — illuminated by droplets of sweat from the exertion off fucking your fist like a squelching, welcoming pussy. his cheeks glow warmly with a dusty shade of pink and there’s a red ring forming around his lips from where he’s bitten them to control his wails of ecstasy.

succumbing to the obscenity of it all, you reach forward and lick a stripe into his hellfire hot mouth. effectively sharing the saltine flavour of gojo’s own precum with him while he languidly sucks all the tang from your pink appendage. his angel white lashes flutter shut at the heaviness of your tongue against his own. the kiss is messy and mismatched, saliva seeps from the corners of your mouth and drags a sticky train down your chin. parting briefly, you spit it into the middle of your palm — happily taking satoru’s cock back into your talented hold and providing a solace to soothe its passionate ache.

“ngh… i can feel you. f-fuck. feel you tryin’ not to grind against me, sweetheart.” somehow, gojo finds pockets of air to taunt you in — his voice an arousing mix of a raspy whine and cocky tone. “so wet, i can smell you too. so sweet. dripping all over your panties while you jerk me off. do you need that needy pussy taken care of?”

everything he’s said is true, while the man with the sweaty silver locks fought to escape the prison of your hair — desperate to see how you pleased him, you fought the growing pit in your stomach. the urge to use satoru for release. you’d never hit your peak with another person before, only your smaller-than-his fingers whenever mother left for more than a day or two.

you admit to nothing, continuing to stroke satoru to his own high — his panted moans accompanied by the sound of skin slapping skin from your hand fisting him to the high heavens. “please baby, i wanna help get you off. feel that wet little cunt. let me go, i’ll be so good to you if you let me touch your sweet c—“

“n-no! we had a deal. my rules.” you stutter, denying yourself. denying him.

“c’mon sweetheart,” a strained and petulant whine echoes throughout the tower — satoru thrusting shallowly through your closed hand in order to match his rhythm to the flick of your wrist. “please, god, baby. if you won’t let me touch you, or at least see you, then can you put that pretty pussy on my thigh? ride it real good? wanna know how you sound when you’re being pleasured…when you give into it all. please honey, give me somethin’ to work with. anythin’…”

gojo presses, like a disciple begging their god for mercy. begging you for mercy. there’s never been this much power in your reach, the ability to control a man who could easily over power you with your sex makes your mind feel egotistically weighty. your resolve crumbles just a tad, satoru’s neediness chipping away at its foundation until your hips instinctively position themselves perfectly over the swell of his right thigh. how bad could it be? giving him an inch when you’ve taken a mile from him. mother says you’ve never been good at lying and right now, you can no longer pretend like your hips aren’t dying to slide back and forth over your capture like a desperate whore.

like you don’t want to use him for more than just the floating lights, but to soothe the fire lit in your lower stomach — trailblazing down to your throbbing clit.

something clicks in your mind, all of your inhibitions are dashed from the tower as you briefly release satoru’s pathetically wet cock and restraints to pull up the skirts of your silk purple dress, exposing a slither of supple fat at your thighs. hurried movements deliver the same treatment to satoru’s pants. “this… this doesn’t change anything. doesn’t mean i’m letting you go just yet. it won’t affect our deal.” you warn the intruder but all sense of venom and authority is lost, evaporating into the temperate air and ending up as a piteous, meek mewl when your exposed mound makes first contact with man’s naked thigh.

if the sound of ruffling fabric hadn’t caught your hostage’s attention; the heat of your sopping sex against his moonlit skin definitely did. “fuck…that’s it. there we go, honey. put it on me,” a tinge of amusement lays evident in his gravelly voice, sets of slender digits peeking out of their hairy restraints to map out your doughy thighs and crawl their way up to the source of your essence. “i just knew you were wet for me, can feel how turned on you are.” as best as he can, gojo shifts until his knee is able to bump your clit — cooing in satisfaction when you ooze against him in response. you almost despise the way he laughs up at you condescendingly, as if he’s the one in control irregardless or the fact that you’re on top.

maybe it’s the dopamine rush that makes your dynamic unclear — neither of you wanting to give up or take the lead. the lust fizzing in the cracks and crevices of your brain make you cute and pliant for gojo but hair woven over his body keeps him subdued and thirsty for you.

like a gravitational pull, you buck downwards on the silver haired stranger’s toned thigh and smear the beginnings of your arousal all over him. you’ve barely been touched, oozing in viscous waves as you lose control over your body, rutting harder and faster. “watch your mouth.” you cry out, volume barely above a whisper, bottom lip trembling because it feels so good to use someone this way.

resuming your hold on his dripping cock again as you rock your hips — you rearrange the loop of hair keeping gojo in place, covering his eyes just as your hair begins to glow gold in time with your symphony of moans. “right, right, sorry. this doesn’t change things,” he flexes his thigh underneath your syrupy sex, strawberry tongue slipping out to wet his lips while your words fade away into a pretty little sigh. “but you wanna smack that messy clit all over my thigh, don’cha wanna make it creamy… even messier?” satoru all but jeers, the wisps of a smirk rising on the horizon of his lips now that your hips have formed their own rhythm over his leg.

they speed up their passionate dance on him, beads of glistening essence pearling between your two fat pussy lips. the slick smack of your naked cunt against his muscular thigh caused his dick to twitch in your hand — gojo thrusting up when you thrust down. he tilts his head down, catching a whiff of your heavenly scent in the air between you both. you hate that he’s right just as much as he hates not being able to see you and touch you properly — only catching glimpses of the golden light sparkling within your hair like a halo from underneath his makeshift blindfold.

you feel like you might be going insane, trapped underneath a non existent touch. like being pulled under waves of euphoria with aching lungs that don’t get enough air. near angelic screams of delight rip through the base of your throat contrast with the way you sinfully hump satoru and jerk him off to the point of his dick forming a creaminess in your hand. he bounces his thigh faster the higher you moan, rewarding you for all the hard work you put in to make this deal worth it.

“you’re no better… you’re filthy,”

“that’s right honey, so dirty. all cause of you. messy with you, why won’t you let me see?” the captive rambles, torn between fighting to break out of the bondage and listening to the lewd sticky noises your mound makes when gliding smoothly over his paled skin. satoru growls at how roughly your body moves above his own, face contorting lecherously, cheeks red and lips puffy — a mess from how long he’s been holding out for you. he’s a mess. it’s true. he won’t even deny it. “now fuckin’ stroke it baby, stroke me to the rhythm of your pussy bouncing up and down for me…please…”

simpering slightly, gojo’s fingers twitch against the arm of the chair — itching to grab at your ass and slam you down against his shaky thigh. if you palm him more, grip him tighter… he can better imagine the warmth of your cunt if he got the chance to slip inside. for now, you oblige his request, pulling tighter on the bindings of your hair while you them use as leverage — throwing yourself down on satoru as the lewd pap of your drooling pussy fills the musky tower air. “that’s it honey, up ‘n down. uppp ‘n down. keep goin’ just like that.”

you don’t have the energy to chide him, jostling about in satoru’s lap with wet whimpers bubbling up on the seams of your lips. pleasure begins to twist nice and tightly in your tummy, scalding you from the inside out and burning any logical thought from your brain. head beginning to roll to the side, you think about fully submitting to your capture. letting go entirely — you’d be satisfied. you’d get to cum. your deal might fall through but at least you’d get to see a different kind of light.

easily, you could just give up. it wouldn’t be hard to, not when gojo firmly plants his feet into the tiled floor and the power from his hips has hip rutting upwards to chase your fleshlight-like fist. a beefy cry battles its way out of his broad chest, vibrating through you as his quivering thigh juts your pretty, syrupy cunt every time you lift off of him.

it’s the perfect cycle; the ideal push and pull. you squeal in ecstasy, the hood of your clit dragged back so that your sensitive bundle of nerves is exposed to the blistering heat of satoru’s cool toned skin — taking you closer and closer to your high. streaks of your hair glow brighter than before, more intensely the louder you moan and just like they would if you were singing to help mother or while she brushed your hair. despite the strength in the light of your hair, everything else about you weakens, your grip on your hair, the pace of your hand as you palm satoru to the high heavens. you can’t think to care about any of it when you’re this close.

if mother could see you now, you don’t think you’d mind if she was disappointed in you.

but then you’re ripped away from the edge of cloud nine. satoru stops just short of the dam threatening to break. his thigh completely still with your juices splattering against him once your own hips come to a hault. a petulant howl echoes through the flower, frustrated tears stinging in your waterline as you feel your orgasm slip away from you cruelly. “what the fuck satoru?”

“sorry honey….” he laughs heartily, a slight rasp coating each syllable from each word that leaves his mouth. “don’t think i like this deal very much. just ‘cause you feel good doesn’t mean you can forget about me,” gesturing to the way you gush on and stain his thigh, the captive with the silver moon hair shrugs. “you don’t get to cum or see the lights unless i get to see you.”

gojo’s been good so far, hardly challenging you this whole time and instead, goading you into a world of pleasure you would have never experienced under mother’s watchful eye. instead, he was content to have his cock touched and his name wailed a hundred different ways — he’d shown no indication of breaking your deal aside from this. so in turn, you halfheartedly let go of the loop of hair that kept his sapphire stained eyes away from the world and held his wrists down to the arms of his chair. the restraints loosen just enough to please him and do what he needs to do. not enough to give him complete freedom.

“fuck the deal.” you cast it all to the side, relentlessly resuming grinding all over gojo — pushing your hips back as far as his knee to smother your swollen pleasure against it.

this time, satoru is able witness the way your bambi doe eyes roll back into your emptying skull.

with newfound motivation, the intruder begins quickly blinking away any darkness that caused a fuzz at the edge of his vision, gojo’s gaze immediately trickles down to your clenching hole, a treasure kept safe between your nectar glossed thighs; watching you ride him. “god, if i had my hands on you i’d rub that clit until you were squirting… i bet you’d like that, if i ruined that pussy. made her mine — you'd like that.” gojo’s stare returns to your eyes, flashing you his pearly whites through a condescending smile. his rushed and rambled teasing words make your creamy cunt wetter; body betraying you to violently shake above him.

though you find strength to keep up your end of the bargain. you’d sworn to make satoru see stars, encapsulating his rigid, sloppy dick between your nimble fingers once more. you even spit on it, earning a haughty bleat from between the man’s pretty (yet chatty) mouth. his sturdy body seizes underneath your touch as you take a firmer grip on him, palming him faster and faster — seedy, hot precum webbing over your knuckles once more. that’s when you finally get to see it. how murky and dark your captive’s vibrant eyes grow, like a pond, swimming with desire for you and only you.

the rapture that had once melted away from you like butter in a pan begins to blossom within you once again — willing you to beg for a chance at a real orgasm. “yes satoru! oh, yes please!” you squeak, short of breath and not entirely sure or what you’re even begging for. the golden light emitting from strands of your hair flare up again and your pussy throbs with an aching need to hit release. “please…”

a self congratulatory thread of cobalt lust weaves its way between the darkening midnight flecks in this eyes. “now look who’s begging,” clicking his tongue, gojo cocks his head to the side, relishing in his ability to finally look at you. drink in the way your chest bounces beneath the bodice of your lace orchid gown. it’s completely fucked, darkened by a crude mix of your arousals but it’s the most beautiful thing satoru has ever seen — only serving to rial him up even more… his own orgasm coming up over the hill. it burns at his internal organs, the lining of his stomach and the only way to alleviate this almost painful yet delectable twinge to his system is through you. “bet you’re only being nice ‘cause you’re close. well guess what? me too, be a good girl, honey, and cum for me.” he says, voice rising in both pitch and breathiness through his gritted teeth.

he’s going to cum.

and you’re too far gone to form a response with words just yet. you stop your own ministrations, payback for edging you earlier. his own cock dribbles pitifully as you rip his high away from him like pulling a rug from beneath his feet. gojo thrashes in his hair in response, azure eyes wild and almost wet with a sheen of tears — just as desperate to cum ad you are. “wh-what the fuck was that for?” he winges as though he’s a child on punishment, slender hips rising up to chase your soiled hand and perfect grip — shaft standing needily at attention. “honey…”

“you don’t get to cum until i get to cum. so either you work with me, satoru, or we’ll go all day.” you snap, slowly working your drenched cunt over the meat of his thigh once again, your puffy folds spread either side of it — squelching with the way you salaciously wind your hips all over him.

satoru basks in the sight, tongue poking out tauntingly between his teeth as he decides to test the waters. “fine, but at least let me help,” he suggests, watching eagerly as you throw your head back in the purest form of pleasure and grind on him harder. it’s clear as day that you need just as much of a push to cum as he does and he plans on giving it to you in just one condition. “untie me.”

“deal.” chewing on your lower lip, you let more of your hair unwind your glowing hair from all points that keep gojo strapped to the chair. enough for more of his hands to escape. then, he’s on you within a flash, hot tongue swirling its way over your clothed bosom and biting at your peaked nipples while his hands shoot to the globes of your ass so that he can drag you in harsh circles across his lap. he’s ravenous, out of control, as if he’s been waiting for this moment the entire time.

somewhere along the way, in one final burst of passion, your mouths find each other again — swapping streams of saliva as you lose yourselves to sex crazed minds teaming with lust hormones. with your lips smacking and bodies moving against each other in a delicious bump and grind — satoru forces a large hand between you both, fumbling against your cotton panties. the sound he lets out when he finally, finally gets his hands on your puffy clit is glutoral and animalistic, the simple touch sending a shock wave of electricity across every one of your synapses. dazing you for good.

you bear witness to the silver haired stranger losing his mind, falling from grace like an angel with blackened wings. and for you, he does the same, commiting the sight of your glowing halo-like strands of hair to memory — the coils that shine brighter the more you sing and sin for him.

he can’t stop gabbling, gargling on the spit you pour into one another — followed by howls and screams of pleasure. “oh you like that, hm? i bet that feels so good… so sweet ‘n wet under my touch.” hot fingers belonging to satoru pick up the pace between your sticky folds, flicking your clit feverishly and writing his claim against your cunt at the same time that you jam a thumb into the tricking slit of his dirty red cockhead. the pair of you jolt in one another’s arms, taking one too many steps towards the edge of cloud nine before you’re even ready for you.

“oh sweetheart, listen to you, sound so good. wish i could have you on my fat cock instead of my thigh. next time yeah? you’re gonna cum like this, aren’t you? gonna get my thigh nice and wet?” gojo growls, voice hoarse and layering perfectly over your whistle tone whines. his digits slow and start their greedy assault on your sex, edging you further and further as you wriggle and writhe at his words.

the world escapes you, the knot of lust that had been warping within you finally coming undone. “gods… s-satoru! please!” you shriek as though your voice is a gust of stormy wind — reverberating off of painted cobblestone walls. your free hand (no longer trapped by loops of your own hair) darts out to grab the intruder’s wrist, thighs locking around the hand that works you through an earth shattering high. the dam finally bursts, forcing open floodgates as your pussy releases streams of clear arousal in small spurts that soaks his entire lap and clothes.

gojo has no idea where to look, the smallest glimpse of your orgasm sending him hurtling over the edge as well — he doesn’t relent, viciously circling your precious pleasure mug and drawing out your release to match his own. his thick length spasms in your tiny hand, plump balls no longer able to contain the viscous, hot seed he has saved up all for you. just for you. he cums with a shout, abdomen contracting under your never-ending supple touch, ropes of white hot endlessly shoot from his overstimulated tip almost as though he’s a faucet that’s never been turned off.

he swears he almost blacks out, a white and sweaty mop of hair collapsing onto your shoulder as you slump in gojo’s lap — exhausted. as the air in the room cools, your hair no longer glowing and your chests syncing up to heave in an even rise and fall — you bring a lazy hand to the back of satoru’s head, toying with coils of his baby hair to help you both calm down.

a moment of quiet passes before you find the energy to whisper. “will you take me to see those floating lights now?”

your innocent question causes satoru to snort sleepily, pressing a wet chaste kiss to your sweaty cheek as the sound breaks free from his cherry-bitten lips. “a deal’s a deal, honey. as soon as you untie me… we’ll hit the road.”

neither of you move a muscle, however, still recovering from the sinful act you had just shared.

you use the time to reflect, a sense of excitement dawning on you. you were going to leave the tower. you were going to see the floating lights on your birthday. and most importantly, you were directly disobeying your mother to prove your capableness. and all you had to do to get your fairytale happy ending was give a handjob to a very handsome, very willing stranger.

the end.

5K notes · View notes

astrovcid · 5 months ago

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✎ᝰ. OCT 15TH ★ MUTUAL MASTURBATION - tobio kageyama .ᐟ

[CHAPTER FIFTEEN CINDERELLA] once upon a time, a soon-to-be crowned princess, once down on her luck, says fuck it and settles on consummating her marriage with the crown prince before they’re actually due to be married ( 9.2K ).

✧ chapter contents - minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, cinderella!au, royal wedding, mutual masturbation, cherry chasing, clothed sex, soft sex, oral sex, cum play, fingering, jerking off, cinderella + fem!reader, prince charming!tobio kageyama.

✧ fairy godmother's note - yurrr three for three ! i really enjoyed writing this one and i hope you like it as much as i enjoyed it at the time !! ily guys see you in the next one :D - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ☆

“it’s a perfect fit…”

luck has never been on your side. up until now — it was almost like the universe had turned its back on you. your mother’s spirit had faded before you’d even opened your eyes to the colours of the world and not long after, your father passed away… leaving you with his wicked wife and scornful step-sisters.

for years, all you’ve known are the painful wounds of cruelty inflicted by their hands. nights of tending sore arms and legs and joints after tending to their every incredulous need. you hardly remember the feeling of love — its warm embrace and tender touch, love to you is an emotion that died with your father when you laid him to rest as a young girl. you’ve been down on your luck ever since then, never knowing if you’d ever be able to experience the same feeling ever again.

for one night only, you’d managed to get a taste. the sweet sensation of love and affection bursting across your tongue on the night that you’d danced at the royal ball where the king and queen’s only son sought out a beautiful bride. out of all the girls, ladies and princesses there — kageyama had chosen you. danced with you non-stop. laughed with you all night. looked at you as if you were the only girl in the entire world for hours on end. for one night, you felt whole again, happy once more, whether that was down to fairy godmother’s magic or your own subtle charm.

but now, with the crown prince of your kingdom on his knee before you, you can see that your dance meant more than just a fleeting moment.

tobio kageyama of royal blood had practically searched the ends of the earth for a foot that fit perfectly into the glass slipper you’d left behind. by his own will and determination he’d wanted to find you, to love you and make you his — this very reasoning causes your stomach to swim with hope and newfound excitement. this could be it.

the change you’ve been looking for and the love you’ve been seeking all your life. “the shoe…it fits,” kageyama repeats breathily, the prince’s usual stoic expression quickly replaced with an adoring and charming smile that sends a pang straight through your beating heart and directly into your longing soul. “it’s you, you’re the one i’ve been looking for.”

with a twist of his wrist and his lips dangerously close to your knee — the prince wriggles the glass slipper ( now cleaned of any blood and bits left from your spiteful step siblings cutting off their own toes ) onto your foot, his chest a little lighter and his deep ocean eyes a lot brighter when it slides on without resistance.

“it’s me,” you beam, much to the bitter dismay of the only family you’d known throughout your years. the family that never truly loved you. “you’ve found me…”

leaning up to grasp your hands, stained black with the cinders from the fire you usually prod and poke at to keep alive, kageyama lets out an airy laugh robust with his own joy and excitement. “and i’m never letting you go, never losing you again. marry me, would you?” one of his thumbs moves to brush tenderly over your ring finger and any sunlight filtering into the room refracts off of your glass slipper — perfectly illuminating the mysterious azure swirling in the prince’s eyes.

he cocks his head to the side; innocent and pleading like a puppy — and you know right then and there that you’d be a fool to let a great love like this pass you by after all that you’ve been through. “oh kageyama,” you coo shyly, basking in the way that the prince shudders as his name peers from between your precious lips. “of course i’ll marry you!”

and just like that, your fate and newfound happiness are sealed. the crown prince leaps to his feet to twirl you in his arms, lips pressing to yours and acting as a signature to sign off on your new life and love. you’re wanted, you’re loved and by a prince no less.

but even then, you remain unsure if you even deserve it all.

these doubts are only exacerbated after your first few days at the palace, which pass in an overwhelming blur.

despite the cruelty in which they’d treated you with, you don’t get to say goodbye to your step-family, nor pick out and see your belongings as they’re packed up for your new home in the king’s castle. in the same day that you’re moved into the towering palace, full of high ceilings and art deco so expensive you can feel your worth drop at every piece you admire — wedding preparations swiftly begin and you’re once more bombarded with all sorts of questions. how do you like your cake? your wedding colours? what style do you want your hair? how many guests? the royal servants mean well, you know, but they give you no room to breathe — as someone not accustomed to a lifestyle where your every need is met in a millisecond and you, yourself are not expected to wait hand and foot on someone else.

anxiety replaces the traces of elation that had once flushed its way through your system, beginning in the four chambers of your heart. how do you know that you’re cut out for this? going from poverty to a princess? there are no classes to teach you how to step up and rule a kingdom after having notably nothing for your entire life. you’re in desperate need of guidance, the gentle direction of the one man relying on you to help create a beautiful, powerful kingdom now and for the many years to come, you have just that, you have the ring of a crown prince on your finger but…

but, you hardly see tobio as the days go by. the very first night he was whisked off by the many men and royal guard to celebrate his engagement. one moment, he appears by your side — frustratingly handsome, with darkened sapphire eyes that rival the countless Crown Jewels you’ve been shown during your stay, a jaw hard set and angular that makes your knees weak while he explains his demands for your wedding to any staff who may question your choices and a smile so rare that your entire world flips on its axis to disorientate you and like you’re drowning in the palace kitchen’s fresh batch of hot sugar whenever he sends it your way. you consider yourself lucky to be betrothed to such a man, all because of a slipper.

in those far and few moments where the dark haired prince has time to put aside for you — tobio cannot keep his hands off of you. either settling them on your waist or keeping them interlocked with his. you shudder at the sensation of his nose brushing over your hairline or his lips on the very ring he’d given you — a moonlight silver band with a sapphire gem just like his eyes, all for you. ever since you slipped between his fingers at the royal ball he’s been terrified to let you go, as though you might disappear for good. he doesn’t say it, you can hardly read past his stony expression and stern voice ( used only around others, never when you’re alone together ), but you can feel it when he squeezes your hand in passing and hidden away in the intensity of his stare.

you’d be lying if you said you don’t feel the same, frightful that your Prince Charming will be ripped away along with the happiness that you now have. like when your father died and left you with that wicked woman. but before you have a chance to treasure your prince and seek his reassurances, tobio is off again, leaving you surrounded by an ocean of doubts and fears that you’ll never live up to yet another family’s expectations.

a pauper to a princess, and next, a queen.

is your love for each other enough to qualm your unease?

even if the queen finds you pleasant and the king finds you beautifully perfect for his son upon introduction — none of them phased by their son’s choice in bride. a commoner of no noble blood but thoughts of being out of place eat at you all day, even with kageyama so subtly affectionate by your side.

you’ve come from nothing, by no means cut out to be a royal, and still… everyone wants you here. including kageyama.

and you just can’t help but feel like an imposter.

by nightfall, a week later, the maids have settled into a regular routine of drawing you a buttermilk bath with honey and rose petals.

scrub brushes and soft cotton cloths work at the stubborn grit on your skin — washing away the memories of the turbulent life you once lived. the cinders from under your nails add a darkness to the milky water like a drop of ink on a blank white canvas, a reminder of the commonness you exuded before moving into the palace to be with your prince. the sight makes you press your lips into a thin line, your wet tongue gliding over the chapped skin nervously. if the maids notice yet more remaining dirt from your past, they fail to comment on it.

now with soft scented skin and a dampness to the back of your neck — they aid in dressing you, baby blue silks and cotton white tule is draped over your frame under the dazzling moonlight as they help prepare you for bed. a time that you dread, where you’re left alone with your insecurities once more.

with your wedding to the crown prince but a week away, the royal staff have kept proper tradition in making sure the two of you remain apart until the wedding night. that, coupled with the fact that you hardly see kageyama during the day, only add to the sting of loneliness and self doubt filtering through your veins. like lemon juice on an open wound.

“we’ll be back to dress you in the morning, your highness,” your lady in waiting tells you, a tone of patience cushioning the fall of her voice as the group of maide leave you the mirror to admire your solemn reflection. parting your lips, they move around the syllables of your name — debating on correcting her and telling her to use it in place of ill-fitting titles. you decide on the latter, shaking your head ‘yes’ while offering up a timid smile in response. it’s far too early to start speaking out of turn; treating your staff as your step-mother would have treated you. “should you need anything, please ring for us m’lady.”

your head bobs shyly once again and the maids take their leave. “thank you, i will.”

despite the quiet of the night, where every soul lays sleeping soundly under the stars and watchful eye of the silver moon, your mind and heart are restless — wide awake. you’re alone and you should be excited. you’re about to marry a prince and become a royal and all you can think about is the bed that’s too soft beneath your back and the clothes that are too fancy to be worn as they itch and scratch at your freshly scrubbed skin. the ceilings of your private quarters are way too high, providing a wide space for your panic to fill — constantly reminding you of the fact that you don’t belong.

leaving you with the sinking feeling that you still have to leave by midnight.

before long, the hours tick by and sleep continues to escape you — every insecurity and doubt you have weighs heavy on your mind like a winter blanket instead of a peaceful slumber that you crave… periodically interrupted by the hoot of an owl and… knocking?

abruptly sitting straight up in bed, you toss the covers to the side all too quickly — blinking the sadness and sleep deprivation away. “c-come… come in!” you call to the culprit, swallowing down your nerves as your lady in waiting from earlier enters with a small curtesy. you scramble out of bed clumsily to return the gesture, still not used to the royal treatment. “is something wrong?”

the maid smiles fondly, taking a liking to how jumpy you are. “the prince has requested your presence in his chambers tonight.”

“o-oh!” while relief and nervousness floods through all four limbs of your body and anticipation crackles over your brain like a thunderstorm kicking into gear — you can’t help but to question the crown prince’s motives. why would kageyama want to see you so late at night? was he having doubts too? was he worried sick? isn’t this.. improper?

observing how you fiddle with the silver band of your engagement ring — your maid must sense your thoughts as they pollute the air with scents of unsureness or nervousness because she takes a tentative step into the room, grasping your attention, to provide a reassuring explanation. “he thinks you might be lonely… i think he misses you too, my dear.”

to hear that you’ve not been the only one craving affection from your lover has you perking up — your shoulders a little lighter and the burden of assimilation relieved. slightly. it proves to you that kageyama is still as caring and thoughtful as he was that night at the ball, your heart leaps to know that he’s thinking of you also. “do i…do i need to bring anything?”

“no, just yourself your highness,” coos your maid in amusement, offering her arm as you pull yourself from bed — eager to meet with your future husband once more.

after a short walk from your room to his, guided by candlelight, you’re pushed into the crown prince’s quarters without warning, flinching as large oak double doors creak shut behind your back. leaving you locked and enveloped in the darkness of four foreign walls. your breath hitches once you meet a pair of ocean eyes and a midnight dark gaze, your own adjusting to the dark veil cloaking the room’s lighting. once your vision has settled, you take note of tobio’s figure sitting on the edge of his bed, as if he’s been waiting for you with muted eagerness all this time.

for a moment, or what feels like eternity, neither of you say anything — your baited breaths tickle the cool night air, neither of you can will yourself to move and reach for one another’s embrace despite how much you’ve truly missed each other. it’s almost as if you’re seeing him for the first time and he’s seeing you all over again. recounting the night at the ball, where tobio was forcibly stopped in his tracks by your beauty and your grace. where he felt the beat of his heart slow so much he thought he might have died and gone to heaven. it’s only then that he remembers just how real you are, that he pushes himself off of the bed and takes longing, timid steps towards you at the far end of his room.

almost as though he’s about to ask you for another midnight dance.

“tobio i—“ you rasp, swallowing down the yearning tone acting as a blockade for your words in the base of your throat. there’s so much that you want to tell him and reassurances that you want to ask of the dark haired prince, words that never come and only die prematurely on your tongue. everything with tobio is brand new and rushed, you would hate to ruin the connection with your insecurities. but you need him, right now, you need him to reach out to you and console you — craving his warmth and the beat of his heart you’re sure only syncs up with your own.

you need him and he knows that you do.

tobio kageyama has never been the best at comforting others. growing up an only child and in his own kind of privileged solitude, he’d never had the need to provide sympathetic symphonies or kind hearted whispers — he was a prince. it had never and would never be his purpose in life. born to serve a kingdom left in his name, tobio was to be only one thing. a charming, strong willed ruler. at least, until he'd met you. until he saw you just inches away from the centre of his room, swimming for words and while your doe eyes searched desperately for a solace in him. in your future king, husband and lover. a solace he now felt he absolutely, instinctually needed to provide.

as long as you were with him, you’d only feel safety and serenity, that was the new mantle tobio kageyama would take up.

in three short strides he’s across the room, tobio’s smooth large hands cupping the apples of your cheeks as he guides you into looking up at him. “i missed you,” he says the words for you, azure eyes dancing across your face as though to commit every detail to memory. the way your brows creasing the centre of your forehead and the way your lips droop into a needy pout. he kisses you next, unexpected, but slow and gentle — coaxing a sigh of content from your warm mouth. he feels your lashes flutter shut against his pale toned cheeks, and your body melt into his sturdy frame like butter. like you’re being welcomed home — your dainty fingers grip his wrist to keep yourself there. “i thought you might be lonesome… we haven’t been together all week.”

nodding, your eyes remain shut because you fear if you open them — you’ll wake up from a dream. but tobio’s free hand on your waist, squeezing, grounds you and reminds you that your engagement to the prince is a reality. “the palace has been overwhelming without you,” you admit, feeling the dark haired prince’s fingers slip into your own.

with a keening whine, you lean into the now empty space where your lover’s hand once was. kageyama grins subtly, wisps of fondness pulling the corners of his lips upwards into a crooked smile. “you seem tense. come lay with me, my princess.” comes his delicate whisper, quiet so that the night remains undisturbed, almost afraid that he's speaking too loud will cause you to shatter into a million tiny pieces. you know that the crown prince will hold you together if you fall apart and allow yourself ushered towards his king sized bed positioned where he stood just minutes ago.

kageyama’s hold on your waist is firm, reassuring — his large palm covering a wide expanse on the small of your back. you’d be a fool to say you didn’t enjoy the sweltering sensation of his touch burning through your thinly veiled night clothes. a liar to say you weren’t imagining his touch going any further. there’s a brief moment where the dark haired prince twirls you in his arms, much like a swift movement from the ballroom, before the backs your knees hit the edge of his bed and you fall into its plush swan-feather mattress.

flustered and bewildered, your once heavy eyelids shoot open to look up at your prince while you scoot backwards onto the bed by the force of your elbows — your breathing grows uneven and mismatched, throat bobbing as you swallow the delightful anticipation brewing within from watching tobio expertly crawl up the bed to pin you against it. athletic and rugged arms that have wielded many a weapon cage you against luxury silken sheets — a pair of wild admiral blue eyes drink you in as ig you’re the last glass of water on earth while pale, milky cheeks glow fiery rose above you.

kageyama’s breath fans warmly over your face, his expression stubbornly contorting to reveal his late night desire for one thing.

you.

his vulnerable dame who looks oh so pretty under the glinting moonlight.

“tell me,” he murmurs to you hoarsely, the bend of his index finger brushing over your cheeks which turns into his hand when he moves his feather light touch the plains of your unmarked neck. possessively. “why is it that you cannot sleep?”

at first, you’re taken aback by your lover’s question. there are many reasons you could list, starting with the abrupt change to your lifestyle. your home sickness and even, the fact that you miss him…but as kageyama’s gentle hand cascades like the calm flow of a river over your shoulders, collarbone and even dangerously close to your heaving chest — you lose the answer in the hazy fog of your mind. “m-many things, my prince,” you stutter out breathlessly, smaller-than-his fingers lunging at his wrist to hold his hand in place above your heartbeat. “right now… it’s your touch. i hadn’t realised how much i…needed it. how it makes my heart race.” heated tension in the air mounts like a stack of bricks, cemented together by a neediness neither of you have felt before.

the desire for human touch and closeness, the temperate buzz of love that’s new to the both of you.

it clings to every molecule of air in the room, weighing you both down with a contagious cloying cloudiness. both of you sick with a scorching proclivity that has you feverish all over. you need to touch him, you need to kiss him, to be with your tobio kageyama or you have no idea what will happen. will the world end if you don’t feel your skin against his? will the two of you go up in flames if you don’t get any closer?

the sounds of sheets shifting in the night bring your attention back to the real world. your lover adjusts, the entirety of his lean frame, keeping you trapped against cotton peaks. “i’m afraid i feel the same, i find it hard to keep myself from touching you,” your browns furrow cutely at tobio’s strangled words, throat running dry as you note the prince’s seemingly internal struggle to stay sane above you. to make sure he doesn’t do something you might both regret. “i find it hard to believe that you’re mine...”

“tobio, please i—“

whatever you had planned on saying dies on the tip of your tongue the moment tobio kageyama kisses you for the second time that night. this one is different from the first, fuelled by delirious passion instead of the need to comfort — his tongue laps at the small part between your ruby lips from where you’ve gasped in surprise. kageyama tastes you and tastes you, lapping up whatever flavour lies in your mouth — sweet enough to make moan darkly from the depths of his princely soul as he breathes hungrily into your mouth. almost relieved to finally have his pressed against your own after holding himself back. you take it, you taste it, you let your back arch itself into the broad width of his chest and wolf down everything he gives you. the first drops of his saliva as it oozes onto the palette of your tongue, his eager huffs that clouded your mind and make you feel as if you’ve been poisoned.

the world slows and the night turns silent for the two of you. wet smacks of your lips slotting together perfectly echo to the highest point of the ceiling in the prince’s chambers — heat rises in the room as well, kageyama’s touch turning to veiny hands pinning you beneath him using a brutish grip on your waist. not that you’re complaining.

but in an instant, tobio is pulling off of you — breaking away from the kiss like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice cold water from the kitchens. “i’m… i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have—“ the dark haired prince’s nose turns to nudge against your youthful cheek, hot and wet lips now running down to the junction between your neck and shoulders like a tamed stream of warm water. “s-sorry, i’m not sure what came over me.”

compared to his usual stoic expressions and tones, the kageyama before you now looks as though he’s fallen ill, the tips of his ears, nose and apples of his cheeks are all tinged with a rose blush and his chest rises and falls at a rapid, uncomfortable pace. confusion intertwines itself with the beat of your heart and must show on the details of your face, for your lover’s mouth moves to form the question ‘are you alright?’ that is quickly interrupted by your own hazy actions. you pull tobio back onto you by the roots of his dark hair with one hand, the other tilting his chin down towards you. each of his kisses, growing sloppier and sloppier; feel real — not like the fever dream you’ve been walking through since moving into the palace.

“i can’t…i can’t believe that you’re mine either,” you hum between the pattern of mismatched kisses against swollen lips, letting out a tune of innocent moans like the finest music to your lover’s ears. your shaky fingers curl in kageyama’s soft baby hairs — keeping him close, although the force of your lip locks cause your head to tilt back into the plush array of pillows.

everything is so hot and passionate and brand new to you, you must be losing your mind. with your eyes fluttering open, you realise that you’ve never seen kageyama look at you so darkly, his own eyes till of sensuality and mirth. you can tell from just a brief glance the depth of his desire for you, he’s waited far too long to have you like this. and now, the sexual tension is obvious.

his rough tongue slips from your mouth to the corner of your lips, dragging a loving trail of wetness down to your prominent collarbones — the prince dares to leave a dark mark in a colour that rivals the midnight skies outside, basking in the cute bleats you let out periodically and the way your nose scrunched up adorably at the pleasure he gives you. using the pointed edge of his teach, kageyama moves to pull down the baby blue, tule bolero the maids had dressed you in — hungrily inching it off of your shoulders while a free hand slides down to play with the doughy, smooth skin of your thighs. almost filling beneath the hem of your nightdress.

gasping in surprise, you resist the urge to bolt upwards — tentatively tugging tobio by the hair away from you to garner his attention.

“w-wait! what about our wedding night?”

a touch of condescending laughter lays wetly on kageyama’s kiss swollen lips, pulling them back just enough to see toothy smirk and pearly white teeth. “what about it?” without missing another beat he swoops down to steal another salacious smooch from you, tongue edging past the weak seal of your mouth to roll around and toy with your own. he can practically taste the nervous desire on you as he steadies a hand above your head to ground himself. “we’re set to be married shortly. surely i can indulge in my future wife before then…”

judging by his movements, such as his tightened grip on the headboard above your head and the bounce of his lips between his perfect teeth, you can tell that tobio remains intent on kissing you. not that you can blame him; it’s the most you’ve tasted of one another since your arrival at the palace. but you will yourself to speak and for once, to voice your concern — knowing that your partner will still love you at the other end of your words. “my prince i…i-i haven’t,” inhaling deeply through your nose, you steal your nerves and fight the sweet mewls that brew like a storm at the back of your throat — a natural response to kageyama who now insists on peppering kisses at the base of your neck (since he could not have your lips). “i have not experienced this before. a-and i want you, i do! i’d just… i’d like for our wedding night to be…”

the crown prince pauses his actions, his dizzy and lustful stare darting up to meet yours whilst his dark, midnight hair no longer tickles your neck. “special?”

“special.” you repeat with a wavering nod of your head.

a beat passes where neither of you speak and the silence is filled by your ragged panting. for a second, just a split second, you’re afraid that tobio might not understand or may even reject you but just as he were earlier — he lets a tender smile tug in the corners of his soft lips (reserved only for you) as a thread of adoration weaves itself between the jet black flecks in his darkened eyes. “i don’t want to do anything you might regret or that you wouldn’t ask me for…” he murmurs huskily, leaning down so that the words press against the shell of your ear and cause you to arch your back desperately.

“i have no regrets… not right now i just,” you whine into the night, gripping kageyama’s for some kind of the to reality. “want to go slower, not all the way…”

“not all the way…” the prince muses hungrily, smoothing over your inner calf. you feel his teeth tug at your earlobes as tobio’s tone dips into low and sexy territory — setting the butterflies in your tummy alight with newfound lust. “then it’s alright with you…i’d still like to ease you, to touch you. it might help you sleep.” he reaches down, lips ghosting over the faint adam’s apple in your throat, grinning as it bobs beneath his touch. “i promise to be gentle.”

“promise?”

“you have my sworn word.”

you blink up at the crown prince with big doe eyes, willing him to see the trust laced within them. “okay…i’m okay with more.”

kageyama makes haste in his next movements — undoing the poorly tied ribbon holding your bolero together and pushing your nightgown all the way off of your shoulders. a hand squeezes yours reassuringly the more fabric he peels away from your trembling frame. endearing praises, hushed whispers of ‘good girl,’ and ‘you’re so beautiful’, are written across your marked flesh in tobio’s signature too — all the while he remains careful, considerate of your wish as he presses wet, sloppy kisses onto the surface of your newly exposed skin. an almost pained gasp tears through your throat, stealing all of the air from your lungs, when your prince removed enough of your clothing to expose your breasts to the icy night air. a little more, and your soft, supple stomach is revealed too.

apprehension tingles below your surface. you’ve never been naked in front of someone before, much less a person that you love. the feeling makes you instinctively cover up — grip retreating from your loved one’s hair to wrap around the curve of your breasts. effectively shielding them from kageyama’s insatiable view.

“don’t hide from me, my sweet love,” kageyama coos. “you’re so beautiful. i want to see and have all of you.” pulling your arms down until they rest at your sides, he’s quick to sooth you, an eager mouth immediately encapsulating your hardening nipples, tongue rolling over the circumference of your areola wetly. you can’t help but whimper, fingers jumping up like a twitch and tightening in his midnight locks whilst neither of you dare to look away — gazes locked with a key that’s been long thrown away.

the prince’s face flashes with heat while he languidly flicks at your nipples with the searing hot tip of his tongue, a dazed expression etched across the gentle slope of his handsome features, making him appear as a man who’s stumbled across an oasis — dying for water. his very face right now sets your core alight.

it would be distortion of the truth to say the look painted upon your own features didn’t rival tobio’s. there’s got to be tears somewhere or a glossy pout to match the light sheen of sweat dousing your body. either way, you know that you look a swivel-eyed mess — every touch, kiss, bite and pinch you receive from the crown prince accompanied by the unfamiliar twinge of lust you feel for your future husband currently smothering you into satiny sheets, drives you up a wall that was once many feet high. your blood boils hot, buzzing beneath your skin, so hot you might as well have a fever. it’s all so new for you, so overwhelmingly good that you could die here and be happy, slick and cherished.

somewhere in the mess of your blistering hot limbs and lusty laments, kageyama bunches the skirts of your night dress at your middle and makes his veiny, large hand comfortable between the apexes of your thighs. you quiver violently and even make a darling noise as tobio goes on to prod a knuckle against the seat of your fresh underwear — chuckling almost mutely at the dampness that soils them in response. “oh princess,” kageyama swallows thickly, amused. “you’re soaking right through these already. poor thing.”

the way in which the prince purrs down at you, eyes murky and hooded, tone superlicious with notes of superiority only serves to drag you further away from the light above. dragging you under the surface of a desire oh so sinful.

you realise then that you’d be happy to drown in tobio kageyama.

whether you meant to let it out or not, a pathetic sniffle breaks free from the barriers of your pouty lips and clenched teeth — eliciting a sick and prideful sort of expression on the prince’s handsome face. a face that hardly ever moves or shows any emotion for the people of his kingdom. another secret to be kept between the two of you. this version of the charming prince revels in the way that you squirm against his knuckles and finger tips as they bully your swelling clit relentlessly. basks in the juices that darken your underwear despite the innocent gleam to the tears in your eyes. tears that have yet to fall.

“i can smell just how wet you are, princess,”

shame begins to curl around your organs, but hardly wins the war against your brewing sexual appetite for the dark haired male licking a withering pathway from the valley of your breasts, down your stomach and over your belly button to the point just above your pelvis. “i-i’m sorry, my prince.”

while tobio battles between torturing you and nurturing you, a hoarse groan loaded with desire vibrates around the cavity of his chest — vibrating through the bed and shooting to your spasaminf centre. “don’t be, i take pride in knowing that i have this effect on you.” now settled between your shaky legs, your betrothed blows a bout of warm air against your sex, rubbing at you faster and harder until your thighs instinctively spread wide enough for his dirty-minded gaze. “so pretty, mmph.”

“y-you should…you should see the way you look…down there, my love.” bravely, you somehow manage to talk through your pockets of dulcet whimpers and poor attempts to fill your air with lungs. it’s hard to speak and difficult to breathe when kageyama is busy pressing two fingers to your clothed entrance, fucking the slight resistance of your treacly hole as streams of your premature arousal ruins your panties further. azure eyes loose their vibrant shade at the sight, gaze honed in on the newly defined shape of your puffy folds.

you’re quick to throw an arm over your face in embarrassment afterwards, however, too afraid that you’ve spoken out of turn with the royal despite your improper predicament.

“oh? what a mouth you have there, sweetheart. how… endearing.” tobio smirks zealously, gaze momentarily flickering up towards your angelic face as it twists with uncharted bliss — all the while, he never stops pinching and rolling your clit, ensuring that you’re soaked through and trembling. “i thought i told you not to hide, that i wanted to see you while i made you feel good,” he continues on, warning you whilst briefly stopping his assault on your slippery sex to push past the lace trimming on your underwear and teasingly pat the entirety of the treasure hidden behind it.

screwing your eyes shut and scrunching up your nose, your head flies back into the pillows while your thighs instinctively snapping closed around your betrothed’s hand — keeping him trapped against your cunt. “o-oh my gods, tobio!” you cry out loud enough to shake the earth down to its core. even with you whinging and writhing, he doesn’t stop touching you, further building on the pleasure at the base of your spine that threatens to explode. stroking you more and more, the more that you ooze.

“sorry,” tobio laughs airly and presses a kiss to your inner thigh, using your moment of weakness to pull your limp arm away from your pinched, sweaty face. “such a pretty sound, when you cry out my name,” his kisses move higher, ghosting over your drenched underwear and pulsating pussy. “can you do me a favour, my love?”

blinking slowly, you attempt to catch a breath in the moment of respite kageyama has given you. you’re hardly there as he tugs your panties off all the way, barely able to register the cool hair now hitting your sticky mound. “hmm?”

“give me your hand,” he commands. you oblige, reaching for his own hand with the one that once covered your face. you let the crown prince manoeuvre you as he pleases — nearly jolting out of your skin when you feel your own rough padded fingertips brush over your clit. “touch yourself for me.”

“w-what?” your teary eyes, nearly overcome with sleep, fly wide open in shock. you struggle to sit up where kageyama keeps you pinned.

he smiles. one of those smiles saved only for you. “touch yourself for me, i’d like to know how my future wife likes it.” he repeats simply, guiding three of your fingers to gingerly circle your throbbing pleasure bud. “like you would if you were alone. i know that you’ve indulged before, i can see it on your face…”

now is no time to be nervous, after all, for the last thirty minutes your crown prince has had you spread wide open and a mess beneath his skillful fingers — scenting him with the slick from your cunt. although you’ve hardly had the time to touch yourself in the past, between the dizzying demands of your cruel step-mother and her petulant children, you’re able to remember what your body likes. what you like. what gets you there the fastest — and now that you have your own prince to fuel your desires, you no longer need to imagine what it’s like to be claimed. owned. fucked.

free from kageyama’s restraint, you shuffle into a sitting position and timidly circle your clit as it pulses with the rapid beat of your heart. you hiss involuntarily and the dark haired male lets out a surprising, withering whimper — laser focused on how you ooze like a tap with running water.

“thank you for indulging me,” with pools of marina trench blue engrossed by the way you start to move, the soft jut of your hips into your fingers and the way you bite down on your plump shiny lips to keep the whines in — kageyama presses a wet chaste kiss to the back of your arousal soaked hand and then shuffles to sit back on his haunches. kicking off his briefs and other clothes, he knees on his bed — fighting the urge to blush as you watch his cock spring free.

he stands tall, erect. tan tip flushed against his creamy pale skin as he leaks a fresh wave of precum all over his tense tummy. just as tobio takes a hold of himself, you push two fingers past the tight ring of your unused entrance — immediately curling them to find the familiar pleasure spots clinging to your sluice walls. like a biological instinct, his hips buck upwards, looking for friction to ease the burn in his erection — blood carrying lusty hormones straight to his leaky tip, keeping him hard.

he’s begging to be touched and you need some motivation.

scissoring your dainty digits, you work yourself open — fucking your cunt silly, faster and faster the less nervous you become in front of your lover. “t-tobio!” you slur, lashes fluttering against your cheeks while you drench yourself in your own slick. your juices begin to splash against the insides of your supple thighs, wetting them like your tongue wets your lips as you lick them — hungrily waiting for kageyama to do something. anything. “tobi…please! n-need to see you…d-do it too…”

“well since you asked so nicely, my love,” the prince finally takes to palming himself, rolling the pad of his thumb over his blazing mushroomed tip — tapping at the string of precum gathering in its centre. he uses it as lube, squeezing himself to the ruthless rhythm of your cunt spasming around your fingers. matching your pace as if to mimic the way he’s going to fuck you. he looks so pretty and flushed — it pulls whistle tone bleats from between your trembling lips. his midnight blue and stormy eyes cloud with desire at every sound you and your slick hole make, those very sounds thick like molasses as they run through his ears. rotting kageyama from the inside out.

a house of pleasure built by bricks of bliss builds up at the base of your spine — cemented together and supported by tobio’s constant praise and encouragement. a little faster love. such a good girl. ride those pretty little fingers for me. you’re driven by the sight of his dick in his hand, jerking on it cor dear life and spreading webs of white up and down his shaft with each flick of his wrist. his balls are heavy; loaded with cum that he’s saved all for you; it’s predecessor smeared thickly over his thighs and sheets. maybe you stare for a little too long, locking eyes with the prince carnally, because he laughs over the erotic sounds of your squelching sexes and unified moans.

“it’s fair in size, i know,” he says gruffly, gritting his perfect white teeth — stopping his mouth from watering at your body jerking and your fingers that pull out of your tight heat to trace the length of your juicy slit. “but i’ll make it fit on our wedding night,” kageyama thrusts upwards just as your two of your digits sink back into your creamy clenching cunt. “that’s a promise…fuuuck…”

tears tiptoe over the edge of your waterline in response to the filth pouring from tobio’s mouth, streaking a hot part down the apples of your cheeks that now glisten under the high moon. “that’s what i want; for you to fill me… like no one else,” you sour over the saliva pooling in your mouth — no better than the man himself as you tease your thoroughly fucked cunt, bearing down on your own g-spot. “w-would you… will you cum inside?” you ask over the lewd sounds echoing from your squishy insides as they ring out into the sex tainted air. they form the perfect melody with kageyama’s rough groans and laments, increasing in octave the deeper your digits reach into your pussy.

your elbows threaten to give out and kageyama can tell that you’re trying so hard to sit up and watch him. pride swells in his chest at your vision, a hand between your pudgy thighs and your salacious curves all on display just for him. your skin; marked with beautiful scars and stretch marks glimmering with a light layer of perspiration. you’re perfect, like an angel sent from heaven to watch over him. and he’s so lucky to have found you. “you’d like that, wouldn’t you. if i creamed that princess cunt of yours, filled you with my seed. bred you until you were carrying an heir. all. for. me.” punctuating his horny rambling, the prince bucks his hips into his soiled fist — stuttering as he goes. “got s-such a filthy mouth on you love, you’ll ruin me with it.”

he’s close. the both of you are. if tobio kageyama falls from grace now, you’ll be right there with him.

you nod rapidly, holding back a choked sob as the bedding below your shaking legs darkens from how your juices spill everywhere. “i want your heir, i want your seed, i want your…oh gods!” tipping your head back, the tail end of your words die in a high pitched squeal that dances in the buzzing air between you. everything burns with how close your release is. you drag your forehand up to your bare chest to you with your nipples — tugging on them harshly. anything to impress your lover, get him close too.

“want my what?” the dark haired prince howls, squeezing the base of his girth. “so greedy and you’re not even a princess yet. punish yourself for me, love. smack that pretty pussy for me — s’pecially if you won’t finish your words.” tobio’s words waft over your mind like a fog over a swamp, pulling a veil of impurity over any remaining thoughts you might have had. dopamine crackles around in your emptied skull, twirling around the ring of your fluttering hole. you gush and gush and gush, pouring the royal family’s future riches out onto the bed like an endless stream of erotica when you pull out from your selfish heat. “come on, love, keep movin’ for me… slap that pretty princess cunt. make your prince proud.”

“tobio!” you mewl for the millionth time under the midnight moon and bring your hand down against your mound in a harsh slap, kageyama’s entire body shuddering at the loud wail you let out. like a songbird chirping for him in the morning. a stream of your juices fly up your arm, glaze the apex of your thighs like icing on a cake as a result. some even reaching the prince himself — drawing a languid lament from him. “s-so close…think i’m going to…”

you cut yourself off, spanking your pussy again and again and again until the prince’s head is heavy with the sound of your broken whines and pap of your sex replaying repeatedly in his mind. “oh you’re so good, so perfect for me love,” his cock twitches, an incredulous amount of his seed waiting for you. his lucky love, his beautiful betrothed, his princess to be. “me too, love. me too, me too, me too,” he’s right behind you, tobio trying to keep his cool and his movements steady but lasciviousness coagulates in the tone of his unsteady voice while he fucks his hand like a mock up of your pussy. “c’mere, beautiful. come here.”

despite commanding you, kageyama reaches you first — his lean frame collapsing over you as if to shield your sins from the world. the seedy tip of his cock presses hotly against the length of your slit, right over your fingers still moving swiftly over your throbbing cunt. you feel everything, overwhelmed by the humid air between your sweaty bodies — the prince’s lips as they capture yours and the pulsing veins twisting around his cock decoratively.

the dark haired heir to the thrown continues to gist the base of his erection — freehand grasping desperately onto the headboard to steady himself as his high quickly approaches. your own freehand finds purchase on the bag of his neck, toying with the damp baby hairs there while the two of you exchange loving, lasting lip-locks. tasting the affection and sweat on one another’s Cupid’s bows.

it’s this way that the two of you reach your climaxes. it hits you like a thunderstorm over an ocean, dragging you under the surface of white hot bliss. the bricks that were building high walls of pleasure in your lower tummy come crashing down with your orgasm — and you know then that they were either never steady or that tobio kageyama was the only one strong enough to break them down. you cum hard, juices splashing out onto the sheets, painting your lover’s shaft and expelling a musky sent into the heavy air. you scream as it washes over you — souring the man above you on.

“gods…fuck, my love. i love you, love you, love you.” tobio makes the fall not long after you, finishing himself off right over your clit — nudging his cockhead against your abused mound until viscous droplets of milky white cover it, seeping between your fat pussy lips. he cant help but look as he floods your slit with seed, choking on a moan at the sight and releasing the poor headboard from his clutches. “you’re so perfect,” he peppers your face with smooches, all of them gentle and carefully placed to soothe you. even as they cascade down your neck, sternum and eventually hover over your sensitive sex. “i c-can’t stop now, have to taste you.”

not a drop of cum, from you or from tobio, will be wasted tonight.

securing his grip on the globes of your ass, kageyama pulls you into his impatient and eager tongue. he starts by opening wide, slotting his mouth against the entirety of your ruined folds — immediately sucking all of the cum and juices from them and moaning as if they’re the first flavours to hit his tongue after being starved for a millennia. the vibrations make you spiral and arch from the bed, reaching for the high heavens. the tip of his tongue wriggles past your slick entrance, the movement eased by how your fingers stretched you out. it flickers in an upward motion, making you see stars like those of the Milky Way between sloppy and uncoordinated kisses.

he’s eating you out for not just your pleasure, but his own, hungry and rabid — filling you up as you cry and cry at the overstimulation. you taste so good, the prince will drink you dry if he has to. tobio slurps what you leak, pushing his saliva in and out of your messy hole while you keenly rut into his face — effectively covering his puffy lips and chin in liquid gold. your own face feels tight and hot, throat raw from moaning so loud.

your betrothed can't help but moan with you in tandem, whimpering pathetically at every roll of your cunt onto his tongue — forcing him to eat his cum out of you. “tobi, it feels… it feels—!” you pant and grasp at his sweaty hair — tugging him further into your cunt, making him wriggle deeper inside, against pleasure points you had no idea existed along your own ribbed walls. he latches onto your clit and rolls it between his teeth mercilessly until your nails are clawing at his scalp and the air in your throat escapes you.

rapture tears you apart and pieces you back together all in one — evident in the way your cunt gushes into his mouth like a fruitful stream. there’s no room to breathe or cope between kageyama’s tongue pinned to your clit and the content gripes he lets out between your soaked thighs. by now he’s probably cleaned his release from you, yours too but he doesn’t dare stop until he’s replaced the mess with a new orgasm from you.

briefly, the prince pulls away from your pussy — tied to you by a rope of cloudy elixir leaked from your hole. a mix of him and you. a visual representation of your union to one. “such a good girl,” he snarls so deep you hardly recognise, but it makes you clench around nothing — pushing cum you didn’t know was there out of your entrance. “chase that feeling, don’t let it go, love.” he goads, spreading your thighs apart even more just to watch the webs of your arousal form and break apart. “so messy… are you close for me, princess?”

you nod rapidly, tearily, and kageyama sighs dreamily, licking your lips at the sight of your mound glistening under the night’s natural light. he licks you up and down with fever and newfound video — focused on pushing you over the edge once more. the crown prince hooks his strong arms around your thighs and anchors you to his hot, hardworking mouth because he knows that you’re so shaky from the euphoria pulsing in your bloodstream that you’re too weak to do it on your own.

your betrothed tongues his words wetly into your overstimulated sex. “show me how messy you can get, princess. make my face wet with it. so sticky. so good.”

“c-cumming! tobio…please!” with a high pitched squeal, your release hits you just as the world around you fades to white and tobio is with you right the way through. his pink tongue flicks at your sluice sex hungrily, brushing over your g-spot to guide you to the other side of your high. it shoots out of you in clear streams, dousing the man between your legs in everything that belongs to you. like some form of ownership.

you screw your eyes shut to stop the static buzzing behind them. your jaw goes slack and your body falls limp, you tremble so hard that kageyama has to reach up and scoop you into his arms to calm you down. a soft grip tilts your chin towards him as he kisses you once again, allowing you to suck your own flavour from his tongue and eventually settles between your legs. hugging you close to him.

“i love you,” you bleat gently, finally coming to. how could you not. he’s your prince charming and he’s shown you that he feels the same.

kageyama shifts, expression melting into one of those special smiles for you. “i love you…”

for some reason, you feel the need to return the favour — reaching down between your bodies and intertwined limbs for his cock which you know is hardening again. but the dark haired prince is quick to grab your wrist, bringing it up to his swollen lips for a gentle kiss against your pulse point. “don’t,” he mutters against the skin there, tasting your sweat with a teasing lick. “sleep, my princess. we’ll have plenty of time to learn the rest later. on our wedding night, remember.”

the prince wriggles his eyebrows, eliciting sleepy and heartfelt laughter from you. “but—“

“an eternity, remember.” he reaches for your other hand and laces your fingers firmly. a reminder that he’s never leaving you. not now. not ever. “you are to be my wife, in my arms where you belong and away from your cruel past. i want you as you are and will teach you whatever you want to know. just rest, for now. sleep my love.”

you remain silent for just a moment, mind racing with a million things to say. though, for tonight, you settle on but one thing — despite having said it a million times tonight. “i love you, my prince.” you whisper tiredly, cupping his handsome face with adoration.

“and i, you. forever more, my princess.” your lover, tobio kageyama, parrots back to you tenderly. the clock strikes for once for an hour past midnight — indicating your new chance at life, that you’ve stayed at the ball beyond the twelfth stroke of the clock and you feel your eyes getting heavy, drifting off in your prince charming’s arms.

the end.

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astrovcid · 5 months ago

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IT’S A MATCH!

full nelson. how had you ended up here? squashed together as your tinder date—who was old enough to be your father—fucked his stiff cock into you. you were just looking for a little bit of fun after a few months in quarantine, and instead you found yourself stuffed to the brim whilst being pounded relentlessly. the sound of skin slapping together rang in your ears, the blonde’s groans and pants growing the closer he came. his balls pressed against your skin, blonde tuffs of pubic hair tickling you. his thick length rubbed your insides raw. you had never been fucked like this.

when you’d first seen kento nanami he looked like a gentleman, with his clean-cut hair and well-tailored suit. he looked like a person of status and importance, not the type to be splitting a girl that could be his daughter with his dick. but here he is, balls deep inside your pussy on his expensive sofa.

"you're such a naughty girl, fucking an old man like me," he said, voice thick with lust. "how did i get so lucky, mm? look at you, taking me so well." his cock curved in just the right way to hit that special spot inside you. and each time he pulled out, his fat tip would barely catch your g-spot, sending you into a frenzy, and when he pushed back in, he bottomed out. his large hands gripping your hips so tight you knew you would bruise.

salty tears fell from your glossy eyes. he had you full on fucking crying from the overstimulation, the pain only heightened by your inability to see. your hands were clutching at the fabric of the sofa, trying to keep yourself steady, but it was no use.

your cunt ached. the wet, sloppy sounds his angry cock made each time it slipped inside your abused hole had you feeling filthy, and it was clear that he wasn't going to slow down any time soon. your head was lolling back against his shoulder, your body had long given up on resisting. kento’s grip was the only thing keeping you upright, and if he hadn't had you in his hold, you would have collapsed a long time ago.

a familiar knot was forming in the pit of your stomach, and you were desperate to come. “ha—so wet, f-fuck you feel so good. feel me deep?” his voice was so gravelly and breathless that you almost didn't recognise it, and all you could do was moan. he laughed a little, his chest vibrating as he leaned down to nip at the skin of your shoulder.

this position, his thrusts were deeper. he was able to pull you flush against his cock. you were so full, it almost hurt.

his thrusts had turned erratic, and the room was filled with the sounds of your combined moans and heavy breaths. you felt his pace slow, and he began to thrust with more purpose. the tip of his cock grinding into your g-spot.

the waves of pleasure rolled over you, and your vision went white. you sobbed, toes curling. kento grunted as he fucked you through your orgasm, his thrusts even more sloppy as he bottomed out inside of you, coming with a growl. you felt his cum filling you, his hips stuttering pushing the heavy mess further in your cunt.

when you both came down from your high, he pulled out, his cum spilling out and running down your thighs. he released his hold on you, and you collapsed against the cushions with a humph, dazed. too dazed to see the man grabbing your phone from the coffee table, hands idly swiping through your apps. bingo. tinder. too dazed to see him swiftly delete the app.

he doesn't want to share. not you.

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astrovcid · 5 months ago

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To Tame A Monster - G.S.

Synopsis. Gojo Satoru, the most dangerous underground fighter in all of Japan - and the…hottest, too. You, the cute nurse that takes care of him, and totally not his favorite prize, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! nurse! reader, underground fighter! Gojo, scarred Gojo, he wears a muzzIe, slight vioIence, he’s a little (very) ínsane, muscular Gojo, manhandIing, full neIsons, semi-public, thigh grínding, edging, Gojo goes FÉRAL, tummy buIges, creampíes, face-sítting (fem rec.), cúmplay, BIIIG stretches, running from it, making it fit, HEADLOCKS, chokíng, fighting talk, squírting, dúmbifícation, víbrators, marks (on him), L bómbs, Sukuna cameos, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.0k

A/N. Happy 100 chapters on AO3!! Here’s a lil’ something for my hubby <3

They say that Gojo Satoru could take down the strongest of fighters with only six moves.

Audiences adored him, opponents insisted that the man wasn’t even human. And it was well known around these parts that one had to be brave enough that it inched into stupidity to ever even think about challenging him.

Hell, they’ve had to muzzle him in thick leather just to give his opponents even the briefest advantage.

Some trembled in fear at the very mention of his name - peering ‘round, making sure they wouldn’t catch a glimpse of those haunting sapphire eyes, or those scarred fists that left no evidence. No witnesses. Others scoffed at the exaggerations of what were obviously little more than sketchy underground scraps. A publicity stunt, surely.

That is, until they saw him.

And you have, too.

With the nature of your job, you had to constantly be present after rounds to tend to bruises, scratches and - if Gojo was involved - broken bones, after all.

Only…you were here for him.

“OH! King of Curses down- Six Eyes knees him in the ribs so hard that I’m sure you could hear it, ladies and gentleman! Is he the one who’ll take the Shinjuku Showdown grand prize tonight?!”

You’re grimacing at both the booming volume of the eager commentator, and the cracking slam of flesh-on-flesh. Having your special nurse’s position smack-dab on the first row meant that you could see n’ hear everything.

Everything.

From the roaring cheers of the bustling crowd on their feet, to the way that Gojo was gritting through his dark Stygian muzzle and grinning. Wild. Gorgeous.

Your thighs squeeze together involuntarily - despite the way the entire underworld had his name in their mouths, the one thing nobody ever disagreed on was how…hot Gojo Satoru was.

A devil masquerading like an angel. All curtains of silky, sweat-slicked white hair, and muscles for daaaays. His skin-tight t-shirt was hanging off of him in nothing but rings of tatters, showing off a snowy happy trail that makes you gulp. Milky skin glistening in the beating stadium lighting, all decorated in as much battle-won scars as sultry, sultry veins.

Gojo’s towering shadow falls right in front of where you were gawking up at him, and fuck- he makes a big show of letting the rest of his shirt riiiip—! with only a mere tug.

Well, there was a reason he was your favorite patient.

And you swear he was so close that you could practically taste the scorching iron dripping between his lips, lacquering his pearly whites with a thin film. All red and raw when he turns to you and winks–

“HOLY SHIT! The King makes a comeback- he’s still on his feet! And he’s swinging wide at our monster Six Eyes.”

The thundering, thick stadium air simmers a few degrees tenser as Ryomen Sukuna crashes his meaty, closed fist right into the other’s right cheekbone. Shocked inhales ring out all around you - because if Gojo was the monster of underground fighting, then Sukuna was the curse.

The only fighter in history to ever get a solid few knocks on the other. Both massive.

And if this was anyone else, the sheer force would have made them pass out right then and there. If this was anyone else, then they wouldn’t be snickering-

“Cute.” Gojo’s deep sing-song voice is cold. Seething. Just barely audible enough that your buzzing eardrums can make out. He throws one arm over the stretchy fighting ring ropes, “But I gotta lady ta impress.”

Crimson eyes flicker to you for nothing but a split-second, but it was long enough for the other man to grow rigid. On edge for the first time.

Smugly, Sukuna spits right into Gojo’s face. “Heh- Hell yeah, that chick’ll be impressed in the locker rooms by a real winner later. Me.”

Just a word about you is all it takes.

A breathless gasp departs from your lips as something in Gojo grows…different.

Without another word, he’s drifting over a hand to one of the bulky bands wrapped firmly around his wrists. Unlatching them. So often mistaken for somewhat of a fashion statement, but after so long spent in fighting company, you knew what they really were.

They were weights. Yet another disadvantage.

And they crack the ground as they fall.

“Weights? Weights?! OH- Gojo headbutts! The King of Curse’s is down-” He’s bleeding and accomplished, every trace of humor wiped. Every degree of a smirk clenched into a steely scowl, and suddenly you’re feeling that perhaps those rumors about him being superhuman are true. Perhaps. “SHIT! He snaps back with an elbow strike-”

Gojo’s big, beefy biceps tense and flex as he curls it menacingly around Sukuna’s throat into a fucking headlock - and your thighs clench.

“You- fucking-” He chokes out past the sculptured harness, cushioned palms coming to slam down on Gojo’s forearm. “For- for some girl-”

Tightening, “What was that~?”

“The King misses- oh, he’s in some real trouble now! Place your bets, you greedy watchers, there’s a reason they call Six Eyes ‘The Strongest’.”

And you knew that underground fights had no rules other than attempt not to die - or, at the very least, try not to make a mess when you do. It’s hard to get stains out of the felt. But Sukuna’s vein-popped face was going purple now, and Gojo was blank-featured through it all.

Barely even flinching as his opponent grapples a hand into his ridged obliques, lunging and lunging. And yet, the strongest doesn’t even flinch.

Doesn’t even notice, it seems.

His ghostly cerulean eyes drift to you, seated on the edge of your chair, and he slams a knee into Sukuna’s rugged face. Letting the man drop onto the frictional ground with a resounding thud! - before his fists continue.

Once. Twice. Clawing at his throat-

“FUCK- CALL THE MEDICS. SIX EYES IS MAKING A SLAUGHTER-SCENE–!”

And no one needed to draw the count, for fear of getting near. Why would they risk death incarnate?

Continuing and continuing until Yaga barks at four- five other referees to even get Gojo to budge. They only just manage to throw a few arms ‘round his powerful ones, and pull him far back enough to giggle down at the carnage he’s created.

Voice octaves higher. Crazed. “Don’t you talk about my lady, ya hear?”

Yaga, as Gojo’s burly coach and former champion, is the one that dares break his harrowing eye-contact to shake him into a stand. Ordering the organizers to get the awards ceremony done as swiftly as possible lest they wanted one of their top-earning fighters down for the count permanently.

“S-Six Eyes is the champion of Shinjuku Showdown! And in LESS than his signature six moves- oh what a fight it was! One for the books, folks!”

Of course, Six Eyes is declared the winner.

And as Gojo is handed a glinting winner’s banner - dominant arm being thrust in the air - you watch as Sukuna’s barely half-conscious firm slurs out a ferocious, “Rematch. T-tomorrow.”

Cash. A shoddy belt. Champagne.

Tens upon hundreds of reporters and photographers scramble and keen to get the most-selling shots of him. The glare of the flashing lights illuminating him into some sort of other-worldly figure.

A fighter so dangerous that they claim he hides six eyes. And yet, they only remain on you.

Though, it’s not as if you’re any better - you can’t look away.

He stands tall, proud. Button nose overspilling with a wisp of cherry-red, perspiration-dampened shorts clinging onto thick thighs and showing you a pretty tuft of white in a way that was unintentionally sexy. Gojo’s leathery mask now dangles haphazardly to show off such a wicked grin.

And Gojo points. Right at you. In front of everyone.

“Later,” he’s mouthing, whilst interviewers scream for a quote.

Oh…

“Fuh-fuuuck, Toru–!” Your mouth floods with sheer bucketloads of drool through each wailing whine n’ whimper, back arched like such a slut into Gojo’s bumpy, Herculean front- though, what else could you have expected when the great Gojo Satoru himself accompanied you to your dingy clinic above the fighting ring?

Ready for his real prize of the night.

And lo and behold, bandages and rubbing alcohol forgotten, you’re finding yourself draped right over his lap so prettily; struggling to close your jittery legs ‘round his huge, meaty thighs.

The fringes of your teeth nip right along Gojo’s plush, scarred deltoids once he tugs on your nurse’s outfit and clings onto a good handful of your ass, draaaagging you to grind all over his quadriceps. Dribbling out a fresh line of candied slick that smears on top of every dip and curve of his bulging muscles.

Your drenched panties catch onto his velvety boxing shorts and you have to hold back a tiny sob. With a deep inhale of his musky cologne, you murmur, “T-Toru, I wan’ you ngh- so bad, y’know?”

“Awww, how cute~” He’s crooning from above,muzzle still on. The pointed curve of his nose tickling your throbbing pulse. Dangerous. Gojo breathes in your sweet scent until it’s all he can smell, “But yer gonna get us caught, mama.”

And he’s so mean.

He fought mean, and he teases you even meaner.

You’re frowning, kiss-swollen lips down-turning into a pout once the sensory pads of his stern digits rover up to your cheeks and smush them together. Crashing your jutted mouth into his frosty mask–

“C’mon now, gotta- gotta be quiet.” Gojo groans at the way you’re getting ever-more soaked when he’s toying with you like this. Lazily, he drops his muzzle to let his plump, bubblegum-pink lips tickle down your own, “Suck on my tongue, there- you can do better.”

So filthy.

Huffing out, your further unfastened jaw basically floods with the damp rivulets of saliva that just kept on watering out of you. When it rained, it poured - and Gojo finds himself smirking at the slop. “Yeah- yeahyeah, you got it. Theeere’s a good girl.”

Weepy pussy positively throbbing at the scratchy texture of his tongue like candy, you couldn’t help but let your fuzzy mind wonder how it would feel inside-

“Oi, nasty girl.” Your pitchy yelp fills the paper-thin walls as Gojo gifts the right of your ass with a rude spank, and then one more just to hear you make that cute noise again. Gruffing out, “Can feel ya getting wetter on top of me. S’like a damn waterpark.”

Before you have the time to even catch your breath, he slouches back sensually to watch you - letting your thin patient bed ring out with an ancient creak!

And Gojo stares at you lecherously- oh, he was devouring you with his heavily half-lidded gaze.

The way you’re pouring out syrupy sap with every urgent back n’ forth of your hips, the way all he has to do is hook a thumb past your gluey stuck panties to watch you pulse and quiver.

Hazy, summer blue peripherals roaming all over your needy expression for a split-second before he’s tap-tap-tapping the doughy mound of his heel on the tile floor. Bouncing you with every motioned lurch, your puffed-up clit catches on one of his zig-zagging veins and you squeal.

Oh? Speeding up, you’re struggling desperately at his whims. One hand grappling onto Gojo’s dimpled back, and the other clawing at the starchy bedspread, no matter how much you were trying to regulate the tempo - he would just speed up more.

And more. And more.

Over and over he’s lurching just a few carnal inches off of your bedsprings to chase your sensitive nub. Reeling you down - hard - with a hand stuck to you like adhesive, to pap! against his thigh, letting white-hot bliss spark all that way from your pressurized clit and up your clammy spine.

“F-fuck!” You’re babbling away, fingers interlocking with the soft creamy curls at his nape. Clawing. “Toru– k-keep that up and I won’t…”

Gojo perks his calloused thumb to swivel over your sloshing mess and promptly plugs up your unfastened lips, muffling you. “Shhh shh sh- Wouldn’t wan’ any of those fucks to hear those pretty noises, my girl.”

He was brutal.

Your lower tummy was tumbling and spinning and doing gymnastics you didn’t even think existed. And it was times like this that the strongest from all those headlines peaked his head through.

Swirling your tongue around his plummy fingerpad, he tasted so much like caramel salt that made your legs grow weaker. Cadence springing to jerky. To oversensitive. “P-please- ngh!”

“Now, what was that pretty lil- hey now, c’mere.” Your lungs cave with a soft ‘please’ as soon as an engulfing, bruised hand crowns your sweat-oiled scalp and holds you still. Gojo doesn’t even have to try, and yet he’s showing off a few sexy flexes of his biceps just for you to ogle at.

Rutting his jerky leg up into you until your head throws back, he can’t help but leave a sweet, innocent peck right there on the tender spot of your throat. “Don’t run. Don’t run from me.”

Another wet kiss near your slobbery maw, and yet another swat of his thickly tipped fingers right over the slivery slope of your pussy. The sharp sting was just enough to get your glassy eyes to focus on him, “Yeah? Look at me- gimme a lil’ kiss, mama.”

Oh, he always was such a ruthless opponent.

Because as soon as your spit-glossed lips are crawling towards his, Gojo’s prying them open and spitting inside with a soft coo. Watching as the treacly wad of splashing syrup slides allll the way to puddle the back of your throat.

“T-tease.”

“I think you mean…champion.” He hunches you over until you’re slipping n’ sliding all down the ridged rollercoaster of his abs. The fragile points of your hardened nipples massaging into his sensual scars and driving you mad. Sweaty and needy. Boring dead-on into your half-shuttered heart eyes, “Now, tell me what you want.” He hums, still tugging on your bloated outer cunt, watching you gasp. “Tell me what’s got this lady here so fuckin’ wet.”

Your words choke with every viscid tear - tears of bliss. Close. “Want t-to-”

“Mhmm–?”

“To-” You’re just so far gone, your gushing orifice only getting soppier and soppier by the second. And before Gojo’s fourth and final spank comes slamming down on your clit- you’re crying. “Cum- fuck fuck fuck- m’so close. So- m’gonna cum–”

And as soon as it was about to happen - it’s gone.

Immediately, your lungs depart with a disappointed whine. “Nooo–!” Scratching at the pronounced back of his throat, you’re struggling to maneuver your body within his merciless hold. And the entire time Gojo only watches in amusement at his sheer display of strength, “I was so close- fuck! Was about to cum, Toru…”

“Nuh uh.” Gojo’s grinning - grinning. And oh, despite the way that makes his cheek indent with a cute, cratering dimple you already know this won’t bode well for you. “M’starvin’ after that match.”

Before you can dredge up enough brainpower to ask what that meant - he’s already showing you.

Falling back onto the stark white bed until his head hit the pillows with a dull whoosh! and for the moment you’re simply admiring just how pretty he is.

This wasn’t the Six Eyes that everyone knew and feared.

With his ethereal locks splaying out on the cushion like a halo, looking oh-so-pale in comparison to the pretty pink that he was flushing all the way from forehead to neck. Irises half-lidded, crazed. Gojo’s broad, scarred chest heaves with every murked out pant he was whistling out.

Twiddling over the shoulder strap of that tight lil’ number you called your nurse’s outfit. “Take this off f’me- show me my hah- show me my lady.”

Oh, it would never get old when you do that.

The way that Gojo’s toes curl, the apples of his cheeks staining with a scorching whirlwind of blushing red. Fuck- his heavy tongue droops even heavier with a slick covering of watery spittle, just watching you in your matching set of bra n’ panties.

All in light blue.

“Knew I’d win, huh?” He’s quirking a snowy brow smugly as he does away with your bra, too. “C’mere.” Gojo’s long lashes flutter up at you delicately, his crowning smirk plastered permanently across his handsome features. And as you’re tentatively making your way on top of him, he cups a roaming grope of your left ass-cheek.

Squeezing for a second - two - before the strongest simply lifts you up to straddle his face. He doesn’t even waste a second. Doesn’t even hesitate.

Setting you down gently - you think he of all people would even need to try to manhandle your pretty self this way?

No introductions, no welcome mats necessary - your throbbing pussy was already pouring out in torrentials of translucent sap right through your underwear. Copious, dolloping droplets that hit his readily awaiting pinkish tastebuds in claggy splats!

“Mmm—” He’s swirling his soaked muscle all ‘round the insides of his mouth to just savor your sugary taste. Through a sharp, three-second spank to your ass once more, Gojo grunts, “No need to be shy. Sit on my face, mama.”

And Gojo was always such a messy eater - not even the slightest bit afraid to get his hands dirty.

No wonder all his opponents complained that he had the filthiest mouth. His tongue was lengthy, dexterous enough to slither past your panties with a sapping squelch! the very nanosecond your drooling core hits the tip of his tongue.

Oh- Gojo’s eyes agonize shut simply to memorize the pattern in which your strands of dangling slick slipped into his mouth. Lathering his chin all glossy, “Yeah like that-” His rugged palms stick to that perfect curvature of your spine. “-sit properly. Sit.”

You’re mumbling out something barely audible, cut off when he curls a firm hand around your throat and pulls you down onto his ravenous face. “Said- fucking sit-”

Sweltering hot breath strikes your geysering hole and makes you keen, your cracked eyelids open just barely enough to spot the way Gojo lands a shimmering glob of saliva right inside. And more when it only adds to the steadily-growing pool you were formulating on his pointed chin, his neck.

Whimpering when your weight settles on a purple-ish spot on his cheek where Sukuna had caught him off-guard.

“Watch this.” He’s moaning throatily, making such a show of letting your slippery slit streak out utter cascades all down his tongue. “Told ya- s’a fuckin’ heh- waterpark. Come ride my mouth, my girl- come- come.”

Your head tumbles back with a loud ‘fuck’ when his parched muscle bullies right past the rubbery ring of your entrance. And he takes the time curling his mazing tip into your slicked hole and streeeetching out a cute lil’ heart that makes you whine your poor heart out.

With a scoff at the way whoever walked by your clinic definitely knew what was happening, Gojo’s slapping the tender skin of your ass raw. “Yeah yeah, louder n’ maybe that ngh- bastard Sukuna will hear.”

Slowly yet sensually probing his tastebuds into every mushy ridge and corner embedded inside of you, he was roaming so deep. Raking a thorough grip on your right ass cheek to gyrate your sodden cunt rougher.

Fucking you wiiildly with his tongue - so wide. Fast.

He was impatient.

“Y’know with you sittin’ and- nghh-” You’re mewling once he tapes off that sentence with a pinch of your perked clit between his plush lips. Hollowing out those attractive cheeks to tug n’ tug until you’re sobbing. “-and- and squirming in the seats tonight- this was alllll I could think about?”

He spits back a loaded wad of drool that slides away back down to your flooded hole, pushing the webbed mess right back with the fat crown of his thumb. “Couldn’t wait-”

“Ngh- Toru—” You’re recanting like your own personal mantra, the crackles in your voice following every flop of his textured tongue in and out in and out in and out. “Keep going- hah! Feels so gooood–”

“Mhm, I know.” Gojo bites back cockily, chewing on the squishy inside of his cheek to stop himself from fucking moaning outloud at how your pussylips were just throbbing. The very same pulse you felt in your tight throat. “Had to stop myself from- ngh- making out with this lady right ‘ere all in front- in front of those cameras.”

“Y-you would-”

THWACK!

Oh, he’s snapping at the stretchy elastic of your panties to let the slimy fabric spank your precise pussymound.

Taking the filthy, filthy opportunity while you’re thrown into a dumbstruck daze to skim a few strong fingers underneath your stringy panties, Gojo pulls-pulls-pulls until it’s torn cleanly off of your hips. Freeing you completely bare, and gifting him with the perfect scented fabric for him to draw up to his nose and sniff–

Your jaw dangles widely agape, the same greedy oh! that your dewy hole makes when setting it aside to dip a finger sloppily inside your cunt.

Stocky and long. And yet you take Gojo’s length middle finger with great gulping clamps of your dripping pussy, so much so that you’re hearing a growling “Fuuuck, mama- m-made for me.” from underneath you.

You just made the strongest…stutter?

And you’re just pouring wet from the idea, but before you can stupidly open your mouth to taunt the big, bad fighter below you - Gojo squeezes his hold on your neck and draaaags you further down. Until you’re so pushed against his hot maw that you don’t know where you end and he begins.

He’s spitting, there’s another pop! as he adds another girthy finger to scissor apart your treacly slit. Rovering and rovering. Your voice shatters into numerous pieces so cutely, and he can feel the way your core pulsates frantically once he’s smudging the doughy tops of his digits nearer to your g-spot.

Hmmm, he’s snickering internally. Gojo’s swirlin’ his manicured fingernail right over your bulging magical spots with such ease. It was so cute how obvious you were.

“Got such a pretty cunt.” You’re arching desperately on and off his vibrato of words, the very same vibrations curdling that tightness in your stomach. “Such a pretty- pretty…”

“Sh-shiiit, Toru–” You hiccup, warbling shrills filling up Gojo’s ears like his favorite song. And it was. Almost as much as the plap! of a fresh wave of sap spraying a sheen across his face as he slithers in a third finger.

Sliding his pearly whites over your neglected clit, “Tha’s my name.” Gojo’s mouth hangs open with every slop, slapping alllll over the hood of your nub before trying to squish the very mound of his tongue in past your overstuffed entrance. Stimulating you. Driving you insane.

He’s swatting your ass a few more times until the mere touch of skin-on-skin sends your eyes sliiiding all the way to the back of your head. Gurgling – wet. “Say it a lil’ louder f’me now.”

“Toru–” you’re raking your hands down his pecs, nudging your plump clit right into the very tip of his button nose. And oh, you’re feeling the frigid whoosh! of air once Gojo leans his head in and takes a deeeep breath. Tugging gingerly on his unruly hair and he groans-

“Louder.”

“T-To-”

“No stutterin’.”

And you don’t know if you could comply with all his mean rules even if you could, the locked vice of his warm palm jostling your watery eyes until they were dead staring at him.

He was peering up at you through angelic, white lashes with such loving. Cerise lips swirling all over your beating clit, he could practically taste the rapid ba-dump–! of it coating his heated mouth.

Starting to crawl straightly up but you don’t even mean to. All he has to do is grasp your throat until all the air drains from your lungs and you’re held there. Solely by his monstrous strength.

Swallowing back the leaden lump that’s permanently branded on your throat, with a flex of broad arms you’re being lazily shoved sloppier and sloppier by each passing second. And as you’re resting your dribbling slit back on his sensual chin, a steamy cloud of Gojo’s giggles hit where you’re stretched the most tautly tight.

Blinking eyes flickering with primal need, your bleary vision is just filled with the heavenly sight of him him him. Urging your rickety knees to knobble faster, he murmurs into your folds. “Say it.”

“P-please.” The outdated bed sings as you’re shivering. Shaking. And no amount of cute gasps that you intake is enough to stop your heart from racing. “Toru. Please l-let me ngh- cum.”

“Hmmmm. Good enough.” He’s leering mean-spiritedly up at you, that very same wicked curve of his lips glued to your pretty clit. Gojo lets off a strained growl that almost makes you shy – desperate. “Now…you’re gonna squirt f’me, mama.”

Another hit thud! of hits at your g-spot, and another few steps closer to your inevitable high. So close, in fact, that you’re not even realizing what Gojo’d uttered until he lolls out his fat tongue like he was drunken, silvery slabs of spit hitting your inner thighs. “Spit.”

Fuck- the very same moment your glittery cobweb of saliva is hitting his sizzling tastebuds, you’re hitting your high. Well, more like crashing headfirst into it.

And Gojo was right, the way you squirted your brain-shattered release was in the most vapid spurts of juices. Spraying out of you like a fountain, sploshing all over the top of his face n’ gravitating down to his chin. “Squirt on my face- yeahyeah fuck, squirt on my face.”

One that he loooooves. Oh, how he loves it. Loves you.

“So sweet- fuck…fuck, always the fuckin’ sweetest, my girl.” His guttural syllables ring out and make your eyes immediately flap helplessly shut. Toes curling, “Thank you- was so fuckin’ thirsty after that fight. Thank you.”

Lets his swollen lips slip open to drink up the honeyed squirts in big, deep sluuuuurps–! Scraping near your g-spot to draw out more and more of those pooling splotches all over his face. Gojo knots his fingers ‘round your throat and shoves your pussy to cling to his mouth ruthlessly. You’re watching through the white-hot stars behind your lids at how obviously his prominent Adam’s apple bumps and propels.

Fuck.

Glossy layers of slick stick to your folds like a candied apple, and every lil’ suck Gojo leaves drives you craaazy. Soon enough, your thighs are twitching right on top of him, “Please, Toru–”

“Mmmm–?” He’s panting, positively blistered in sweat at this point. And even when he’s catching his eyes with yours, his own look…cloudy. Feral. Murmuring something like ‘round one’ into your outer pussy.

“Want you in me–” You’re babbling out the only few sets of words you know will work to draw him away from the sweet, sweet dessert he’s found between your legs. And you’re watching with bated breath as Gojo takes a sloppy second to consider, still nibbling his canines on your sensitive clit.

Huffing n’ puffing cutely, you’re reeling your sweet cunt back– only for Gojo to squeeze his hold around your neck and pull-

“Just one more-” He’s contaminating the heady clinic air with repeated saccharine, saturated squelches after every peck upon peck. Like it hurt to part with your pussy - it always did, n’ Gojo made sure to leave her more than enough goodbye kisses.

“One more-” Stringy oodles of slick washing over his face, “One- one more.” Again. Just another French kiss. “One…” And again.

And again and again until you’re dipping your hands through his mussed-up bangs of cloudy white and tugging, all that it takes for Gojo’s achingly hard cock to twitch.

“O-oh.” His voice breaks so many multiple octaves higher as he pulls away with a final - final - slimy graze of his stinging lips. Head lazing in an angle downwards, as if he’d just noticed the painful, rock-hard bulge tenting his too-tight boxing shorts.

And Gojo’s cerulean eyes widen, flitting from the slushy wet spot soaked through his dark pants, to the way your glistening hole was winking down at him. Needily - as if to beg.

The middle of your bowed spine tingles with the remnants of your orgasm as soon as Gojo opens his mouth to growl. Low. Rasping.

Depraved.

“On- on my cock now, mama.” He’s tracing his hands admiringly over your tummy, the edge of his thick thumb drawing a long line right across the middle and your teary slit - measuring you. Where he’d already memorized the sweet lil’ targets he’d be fucking deeeep inside. Could never forget. Gojo nudges his straight nosebridge between your dewy folds once more, “Gotta really celebrate w’my heh- lady here tonight.”

And as you’re scrambling on your still-tottering knees to slide yourself down his Adonis-like body, he scoffs.

With a blunt roll of his eyes, Gojo’s cupping the curve of your slam-driven ass and manhandling you easily. Trawling your weepy pussy down, down, down over every one of the calloused scars on his front, every one of his bumpy abs - you counted eight - to sit all prettily beneath the snug waistline of his shorts.

Gojo spies up at you through his chalky bangs, plastered to his forehead with perspiration until you’re barely making his greedy stare out. Eyes half-hooded, pupils darkly dilated until you couldn’t even see those irises.

It’s then - only then - that you realize just how ruined he looked.

With that blossoming injury from tonight’s match across his cheek, burnished and purple - though, not even half as bright as the flush that coated his pretty features.

All red and raw. You were practically basking in the scalding heat that radiated off of him, melting the glassy sheen of slick that dripped off of him in globules, so fucking wet.

And yet, Gojo only ever wanted more. Kissing you with his cutely pink lips, he heaves in great panting gusts. “Take- heh-” Massive, twitchy hands fall on your own and guide them to his thick hem, a viscous gumdrop of your sap trickles from the point of his nose. “Take ‘em off f’me, mama. Take a goood long look f’me~”

“So bossy.”

“Mmm— I’ll be fuckin’ that rude mouth shut soon.”

Gojo sits obediently manspread as you fumble your eager fingertips underneath his shorts and pull–

The first thing you see is a curly tuft of his white happy trail, glimmering and drenched through with his own buttery precum.

And the second thing you see…fuck. He’s never been harder.

Swollen n’ aching. Gojo’s furiously reddened mushroom tip dribbles out a constant stream of syrupy pre, hitting your hands with a loud splash! And not just that– he was spilling out a murked milky few dewdrops as if eating you out had him on the very verge of cumming.

He’s sprawling his swole, veined arms behind his head, letting you gawk and ogle as you please.

And how could you not?

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to just how pretty Gojo and his erect cock was. Damn past ten inches, it’s as if he grows every time you see him for a post-match ritual.

And so does his rosy cockhead, the exact same shade of pink as his burning cheeks. So wide that your slippery hole clenches ‘round nothing at the sight. All bloated and over-decorated with so many lightning bolted veins, you’re feeling your mouth water at the mere notion of tasting him–

“Ah ah-” He tuts, pulling you away as he once more cradles your throat softly in one hand.

You pout, “B-but…”

Nodding sloooowly so you understand, “Wanna fuck this pretty pussy. Ride me like a hah- good girl now, m’kay?”

Oh, he was so evil. He knew exactly how that lil’ nickname would have your mind pitching into a state of carnal frenzy.

The desire purely evident on your gorgeous face as you’re toppling your capped knees on either side of his firm, toned waist.

One masculine hand wrapping around his bulky hilt - aligning it all ready to smooch your pretty pussy - he sliiiides his heavy head to sandwich between your bloated folds. Rocking upwards into a teasing little back n’ forth that leaves his rigid head swatting on your clit. Pap! Pap! Pap!

“Ready–?” Gojo drawls out in husked syllables, licking his lips to lap up any remnant of you. Wordless, the only thing you can manage out right now is a shaken nod.

Before it feels like you’re being split apart.

You’re whining when your hole stretches out with a rowdy sluuuurp–! just the thickened tip of his length popping in past your entrance. And he’s so fat, you could feel every solid ba-dump–! of his prominent veins tugging your cunt apart.

“Oh, f-fuck, jus’ look at you.” He’s spitting through gleaming clenched teeth, words hitting you straight into your saccharine sweet pussy. Biting down on his pouty bottom lip, “Just ngh- look at you takin’ me- taking that biiig stretch, fuck.”

Your glassy eyes roll all the way back at the way he wasn’t even halfway inside yet already made you feel so dizzy. Stumbling flailingly into his arms, “Wanna kiss, Toru–”

“S’so cute when you’re all cockdrunk” Gojo whispers as he leaves a stinging spank on your ass, the shock of the force makin’ you swerve your hips deeper down his thick shaft.

But he doesn’t kiss you - not yet. Instead, he’s chuckling deeply at your adorable irritation, sharp hips bucking off the mattress just so that he could fit himself inside. Up. Up. Up. Probing and probing his pulsing crowned tip over and over to ease inside a few more solid inches.

“T-Tooooruuuu–”

“Mhm–” He places a warm palm faced open on your tummy, searching for that familiar bump where he’d be ruining you all inside. Where his rounded head would be prying apart your gum-like walls in urgent impales. “I’ll kiss you if ya say ‘biiig stretch’ f’me, my girl.”

You’re squirming your hips impatiently, only to be locked down with only one of Gojo’s hands. Honestly, what did you think going against a fighting champion? “B-big-”

“Nuh uh.” Bearing you with a wild, animalistic smile that makes you shudder. All wide and toothy. He’s rudely slapping you once more - this time on your dripping cunt. Quivering. “Say it. Biiig stretch, mama.”

“B-big-” You wail out whimpers just as soon as your little mistake leaves Gojo’s swollen shaft inching out of your hole, a warning. Already making you feel so empty inside- “Fuck! Big- biiig- stretch mmpf-”

Before you can register it, a hand clawed into your throat pulls you to crash your lips onto Gojo’s soft ones - muffling the absolute trill you’re letting off when he finally bottoms out with one big push. Finally.

“Now m’kissing you here, too–” he has the audacity to flush.

His sensual mushroom tip scrapes a swiveling line allll down your gooey walls, swirling ‘round and ‘round until he’s following the map directly to your g-spot. Giving her a good long snog, you’re curling your toes at the swashing waves of pre that dribble out of him and straight onto that tender orifice.

You’re so full that your mouth overspills with generous helpings of drool, slobbering right onto the valley between his pecs where you found yourself laid.

The slick velvety walls of your cunt scoop him up gladly, and Gojo finds himself wearing such a dopey smile at the instinctual way your gummy walls clench. “Hmm– have I ever told ya how much I ngh- love you?”

And maybe it was the way his thick cock was reaching you everywhere, maybe it was the way Gojo stared at you with heart eyes. It could’ve been anything and everything - you simply found yourself cumming.

Right then and there, with only a few vulgar bludgeons of his merciless cock.

And Gojo?

Gojo looks like he’s in heaven.

Startling out a slight puff of laughter while he careens his hips back to fuck you through your sudden high, and you can feel the way he pinpricks your insides with every thrust. Feel the way he strikes right at your most favorite spots - precisely.

“Already? I really am winnin’ tonight- heh. Already won Round 2, too.”

Round 2? What is he…oh.

Oh, shit.

He’s talking about how many times he’s made you cum.

The sounds of his raspy praises make your ears buzz, head throwing backwards when you start to arch your back and rut yourself, attempting to meet his vicious pace. To run.

“Fuh-fuuuuck” You’re biting your tongue to try and fight back those pathetic pitches and mewls seeping from your lips. And all it takes is a slamming whack into your cervix to render that useless. “Fuck me- fuckmefuckme, Toooru–!”

“Now now,” he’s tutting, and oh you can feel your tummy lurch with anticipation at that dark tonality of his. Or maybe that was just the feral twitch of his battering tip.

Through eyes saturated with a film of fat droplets of tears, you’re glancing down at the way your hips are suddenly pinned to his toned pelvis. Unmoving. With just his steady grip of your throat. “Runnin’s against the rules, mama.”

And suddenly, you’re moved so fast your cottony brain begins to wonder if maybe you’ve teleported.

You’re whimpering as your fatigued back ends up laid over the crescent curves of his pectorals, his front digging into your mounds of flesh as Gojo pulls your clammy knees back back back back. Into a full nelson so mean that you don’t even realize he’s positioned his cock until he sinks allll the way back in–

“Atttta girl. Look at youuu–” His hoarse pants sizzle the tender lobes of your ear after every unapologetic pound you’re being graced with. You gawp at the full-length mirror that was right adjacent to the patient bed, shit- you forgot that was even there.

And now that you’d taken a glimpse at the lecherous scene, you couldn’t look away.

Gojo was so staggering. Swole muscles bending you pliably, the only thing holding you upright enough so that your cross-eyed stare could lock with your fucked-out reflection in the mirror.

Your dizzy pupils circling all over comically the more n’ more he jackhammered away. Vehemently.

The girth of his shaft was so big that your head lolls stupidly back into the planes of his collarbones, “Takin’ care of ya favorite fighter.”

Five exact circumferences of his fingertips sway over to that large, cylindrical outline being oh-so-thoroughly fucked into you. A tummy bulge that he thumbs over, that mushroomy globular end.

“Takin’ c-care of me alllll ngh-” He massages down on that cute lil’ bump going back and forth back and forth back and forth. Driving himself just as crazy as he was with you. Groaning, “-here.”

And Gojo’s body was still aching from the aftereffects of his fight, he was still sore in places with soon-to-be bruises. Yet, he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t even slow down.

Hard and fast.

His crownhead an angry red that prodded your deepest, most tender insides. Pushing and pushing and pushing. So wide that both you and the rickety bed were singing with whimpers after every delving drag of his vein-covered length.

Strokes vulgar. Alllll the way from the very strawberry divot in the middle of his globular tip, to the massive circumference of his hefty base. And even though every pricking whack into your cervix was hard, Gojo took his lazy time pulling back out to make sure you felt every bump and bolt of his swollen veins scraping down your insides.

“Watch this.”

“Wh-what- oh.”

You’re peering through the smoggy mirror at the way the strongest himself rovers up his big, beefy right arm to wrap neatly ‘round your neck. His hard-earned biceps bulging against your throat and blocking off your airway sexily.

Watching yourself, you swear you could count every vein thumping down his forearm, every flex of his rippling muscles caging against your neck. Oh…you only got wetter.

“Saw you lookin’ at me. Could tell how much ya- haaah- liked this, mama.” Gojo titters, words sloppy and his strokes even sloppier. “Almost drenched the heh- seat didn’tya? Watching me? Ohhh you like this don’tcha? W’my big arms puttin’ you in a ngh- big headlock?”

Babbling. Gojo himself was drooling, a thin trickle of spittle that befell with every passing second he watched your sloppy slit swallow his inches.

Yearning for more.

Begging for more.

You half-couldn’t believe that was you with your face tear-streaked and oh-so-ruined in the reflection. And once you feel that familiar fluttering from your pussy, you’re slithering down a hand between your legs–

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” He was breathless.

It was so easy for Gojo to trap both your unsteady wrists within only one of his, gruffly bringing you back into your cute headlock whilst pinning them so you could struggle allll you want. But he wasn’t letting up.

Clinging onto your swiveling with one hand, and keeping you manhandled with the other. He bucks his hips so your curved spine is rubbed all down with his sweat-glossed abs, he knew how weak you were for it.

Smearing the stocky end of his thumb over your needy clit, “Not when ya have me, mama.” He breathes next to your ear, so close. Drawing circles. Hearts. His name. Mindlessly lapping away the pearls of tears running down your face, “Not when your d-dear ngh- ‘Toru’s’ here.”

And when you’re cumming, it’s with those exact words scratching a carnal desire set inside of you.

“Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming- ngh!” Your previous orgasms had already taken so much out of you that it was all you could to will yourself not to pass out right now and here.

“Yeah? Yeah? Go on- I- ngh- win- round three- heh.”

Sharp stings of pleasure buzzing all the way from your throbbing pussy to your empty head, you draaag your nails all over his sturdy forearms. Your body slicks over with sweltering perspiration, glissading you smoothly up n’ down Gojo’s sculptured body.

Gojo jostles you in his headlock to stare deeply into your eyes while he drags out your high, counting every filthy spank he was honing out. It’s not too far into your overstimulated high before his creamy tip showers your drenched insides with sprays of buttery cum.

You could hear yourself mumbling out faint nonsense with every ropey smack you felt pumped inside you, and it was as if Gojo was orgasming harder than he had his entire life.

Cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t stop - didn’t even know if he could.

And it was so weighty, too.

You could feel the soppy splosh of his sap being bubbled all up inside you, every swab of Gojo’s leaking cockhead frothing it even deeper inside. You’re swearing the bumpy outline of your tummy bulge was only being cumflated, feeling like he was glueing your very walls together.

Naturally, a few slicked gumdrops of cum ooze their way out between your teary slit. His hips jolt at the primal sight, thick seed dribbling out of you like frosting, formulating so many rings upon rings that Gojo just can’t help but admire and muse as his most favorite ones.

Shit, with a humid pop! he’s inching out just to watch the butter-covered sheen that stuck to his red shaft.

Hooded, his sapphire gaze rips away from your reflection to narrow down at you. At the way your ancient patient bed was now completely destroyed; headboard split, standing on only three feeble legs.

“Broke the bed, heh- tha’s a KO, my girl.” Gojo lets go of his headlock on you, nuzzling your cheek with his sweat-lacquered forehead whilst you still attempt to catch your breath. “Mmmm– really do love you, y’know- the fuckin’ b-best prize I could ever have.”

“I love you too–” You find your cartoonishly dazed smile directed up at him. “-Six Eyes.”

With a soft groan, he twiddles his thumb over to toy with the sticky seconds of his seed pouring out of you. Lazily.

Letting it scoop onto his fingerpads, shoving it back between your slippy lips. Repeatedly even painting a languid heart with it over your tummy bulge- before skidding the salted cream between your lips.

With a fat few fingers stuffed into your dampening maw, overflowing with glutinous saliva, you’re letting your eyes stray back to the reflection in the mirror. Blinking back your vision-

“Holy shit.” You’re gaping - at everything from the way that Gojo Satoru had seemed to gain more red, red scratches and bruises all over his arms, back, and pecs from you than in an actual fight, to the way he seemed utterly content about it. “T-Toru, I gave you more marks than Sukuna did during the Shinjuku Showdown…”

“I know.”

“Aaaand welcome back, folks! To the Shinjuku Showdown 2.0!”

You wince, Haibara’s commentating voice would never grow any less booming no matter how many times you sat here. Front row for yet another one of Gojo’s famed fights.

Though, you squirm in your seat, you wished he could get here sooner.

“Requested by our very own King of Curses- he’s quite a sore loser you see- oh, my mistake, Mr. Sukuna, sir. You are the underground’s most honorable fighter, of course of course.”

Ryomen Sukuna scowls even as the crows roar and yell rambunctiously around him, eyes falling on you - for the briefest, tensest second - before he tears away. Pacing around the barren ring like a tiger prowling for his prey.

Only, said prey wasn’t going down without making sure that Sukuna knew the true hierarchy here.

“FINALLY! Hereee we have our monster of Japan, Six Eyes, making his long-awaited entrance tonight! Ohhh place your bets, ladies and gentlemen, tonight is going to be goooood!”

When Gojo Satoru entered the ring, everyone knew. Everyone held their breath.

It never got old seeing his generously over six-foot figure loom menacingly towards the ring, draped in a dark blue robe of crushed velvet. Which just-so-happened to be the exact color of your matching lingerie tonight…

Usual gloves on hand, a tiny, plastic remote in hand.

You’re shivering as he twiddles it over deftly, pulling down the hiked-up hem of your nurse’s outfit. Just praying that nobody could hear the bzzz–! of that hot-pink bullet vibrator lodged inside your sloppy pussy.

Meant to be there for the entire fight.

The cutting stadium air was so tautly-pulled that you could hear every resounding thud! of his powerful footsteps as Haibara rattles off Sukuna’s introduction. Jumping swiftly and athletically over the ropes of the ring.

“And in THIS corner, we have Six Eyes, The Strongest. Some fear to speak his name. Some think he isn’t human. With a winning streak ever since he arrived here, with so many knockouts that it’s said they created a new medical term for it. Challenge him and you challenge death. The man. The myth. The nightmare-”

Then Gojo straightens-

“-a monster that can never be tamed!”

-and he lets his robe fall.

All red, angry patterns of scratches on full display for the countless rabid photographers and watchers to gawk at. Down his back, down his arms, down his pecs.

Everywhere and anywhere for the eye to see, and to see Gojo- Six Eyes of all people to be so thoroughly claimed. As if he was thrown to the wolves - someone put a hand on him?

Oh, you could hear the reporters stumbling over their questions as they screamed for answers and relationship reveals.

Though, all of them were answered once he turns straight to you. Miniscule remote calibrated to the very maximum before Gojo fucking throws it somewhere into the ringside. Even through his muzzle, you could tell he was grinning as you gasped at the lecherous vibrations pulsating to your g-spot.

Over and over whilst media personnel - realizing your connection to the most dangerous underground fighter in all of Japan - jostled you for more juicy details. Fuck- everyone was going to know about this. Everyone.

Gojo turns back to a fuming Sukuna with a quirk of his ivory brow.

“The monster has- has been tamed! Let the fight begin!”

A/N. FAWK I NEED HIM. Was this slightly inspired by all the boxing talk going on in my blog? Mayhaps.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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