cookiieduh

[cookiieduh]

wake up from him .ᐟ

.shame that it took your crappy ex cheating on you to let you finally see what’s been in front of you the entire time..

pairing.ᐟ shoko x reader.

.cont.ᐟ SFW, fem!reader, mentions of cheating, best friends to lovers (?), wlw (duh), hurt/comfort, possibly a little angsty, fluff, the faintest whiff of crack perhaps (?), massaging, mutual pining, WILL be proofread in the morning, lmk if i missed anything :3

extra.ᐟ wc,, 2k,, for the wlw shoko enjoyers <3 once again sleep deprived, on the verge of passing away

“guys suck.”

shoko definitely wasn’t expecting that to be the first thing she hears from your lips the second she answers your sudden call at 8:34pm. a little disoriented, she doesn’t even register how blubbery your voice is, or the little sniffles that sound through the speaker.

“yeah, tell me about it.” she finally snorts. oblivious. setting her phone down as she continues fixing up another weird, late-night craving: salt and peppered apples. “we’re friends with the biggest dipshits ever.” she continues, voice lowered with the soft rumble of laughter.

but this wasn’t about geto, not even gojo. this was about your boyfriend. ex-boyfriend.

“no. shoko.” the sadness in your voice carries through her end of the line, making her pause the unconventional seasoning and sharply turn as if you were about to supernaturally materialise in front of her very eyes. “he cheated.” she can hear the shaky exhale, then dry sob before you promptly mute. 

and shoko’s confused by her reaction. of course there’s that immediate burst of anger. forget an inkling, she had a whole dissertation on why this guy was bad news. like how he took you to a hockey game with his brother, leaving without you because he ‘forgot you tagged along’, or how he always talked about future plans that somehow always excluded you.

but what surprises her is the little spark of relief, maybe satisfaction, that follows. was she a bad person? no. well, maybe. anyone would be happy if their longtime best friend got out of a toxic relationship, definitely a little forlorn at the prospect of the wakeup call being infidelity, but she was smiling. smiling. as if she had some kind of master plan that was falling into place.

but that can’t be right. you. her best friend. is understandably upset, torn by that scumbag leech’s betrayal. now is not the time to be cheesing. and you’re still on mute, probably halfway through the amount of tears one can cry in a lifetime, while she chomps on a pepped up apple-stick.

“want me to come over?” she asks, mouth full and voice muffled by the half-chewed fruit snack, but sympathetic all the same.

-

“just wasn’t expecting it, y’know?” your sobs have mostly slowed, but there’s still those uncontrollable little hic!’s that make you squeak as you rest your head on her chest. would it be skeevy of her to say she did? that she could smell the mess he was going to make from a mile away?

“i know.” she murmurs anyway, lidded tawny eyes dropping to your flushed profile as nimble fingers rake through your hair in a gesture that’s almost pacifying. “ugly men get a gorgeous girlfriend and don’t know how to act. he’s the only one to blame.” her voice trickles into something soft as she tries to comfort you.

she keeps combing through your hair with gentle hands, ignoring the snot she can feel bleeding through her shirt as your glossy eyes absently drift over the cheesy sitcom playing on the tv. she barely catches the canned laughter of the programme, eyes too busy trailing the occasional tear that slips from your red-rimmed depths.

there’s a blanketed silence between you, the kind of contentment that doesn’t need words. shoko’s heart beats steadily beneath your cheek. grounding. her lissom palms slide from your crown to your nape. fingers trace light stripes down to your shoulder, trailing soothing circles over the thick material of your sweatshirt. a barrier.

“you got anything to drink here?” she hums, gaze breaking from your profile to follow your vacant stare at the too-bright screen. “might help you feel better.” she feels selfish for suggesting alcohol, but she needs a smile from you tonight. at least one. and she has a knack for cracking better jokes when she’s just a little tipsy.

“yeah. got some open sake in the fridge.” you mutter after a beat, shakily sniffling against her one last time before raising your head. she pats you once before getting up, sauntering off in a way that almost catches your exhausted attention. you watch the subtle sway of her hips as she walks with something you chalk up as being passive interest. not because she has a nice butt.

you’re tired. overtired. fresh out of a maelstrom of a relationship, and in need of comfort, your brain is rousing with less than appropriate thoughts of a girl who’s closer than family. but that’s wrong. shoko is your ride or die, your best friend. you don’t even want to entertain thoughts of messing things up because of some unchecked sentiments.

before you can dwell in those unsolicited fantasies any longer, shoko returns. two full glasses in one hand, a substantially emptier bottle in the other. “mmh. this should do the trick.” she sighs with a grin, setting the dwindling rice wine down on the coffee table before slumping beside you. graceful enough to avoid any spillage.

“thanks.” you mumble as she hands you a glass, taking a steady sip before leaning back against the plush pillows lining the couch. “i needed this.” no more hiccups, but your cheeks are still flushed. lashes clumped with drying tears. puffy eyes, and a voice that still sounds too wet. but when you turn to shoko, she’s already watching you. eyes darting around your face like you’re something she needs to explore.

“c’mon.” she abruptly pats her thighs with a free hand. “put your feet up.” she smiles, bringing the glass to her lips as she waits for you to make a move. you’re friends. it’s normal. so you swivel around on the couch, doing as you’re told, calves coming to rest on her lap.

her eyes are drawn back to the poor acting on screen while her palm warmly splays over the bridge of your foot, lightly working up your shin. you’re left dazedly considering her, observing every micro expression that plays on her pretty face as she pretends to not notice you staring

“you’re so soft.” shoko muses quietly, caramel hues flitting down to the skin bared by your sleep shorts. and she knows exactly what she’s doing when she decides to trail her fingers across the smooth surface in a way that’s ticklish enough to make you squirm and almost spit the sake out.

“shoko—!” you hiss, throat burning from the sudden rush of your gulp. “don’t do that.” you continue, coughing. but it’s a struggle to take you seriously when you're still so nasally and swollen. despite the coy smirk on her face, she concedes, stroking you with a firmer touch. you melt.

“no, seriously.” she turns to you, taking another swig of rice wine before leaning back further against the couch, pulling you against her in a way that makes you yelp. “what moisturiser do you use?” she grins, rubbing over your legs with a comically exaggerated fervency that draws a giggle from your lips. perfect.

“wouldn’t you like to know?” you sass back, feeling a lot lighter than before as you playfully kick your legs up, making her laugh softly in response. you both settle, placid in the quiet joy of each other's company. and then you feel it. filthy and hot and burning, clawing up your throat, making spent tears sting your eyes again. for a totally different reason.

you like her. you really like her. more than a friend should.

maybe it’s the cruel realisation of those unwarranted feelings, or the way she just looks at you too warmly, but you down the almost full glass in one go. the taste does little to push away the scorch of guilt rising up your throat like bile. before she can lower her hand and continue touching, you swing your feet off her lap. 

“you okay?” she turns to you suddenly, a little startled in the way her sleepy eyes widen just a fraction. you set the glass down with a clink! before rising to your feet. she follows you with her eyes, confused by you pulling away so suddenly. she thought you were finally cheering up. this sudden distress doesn’t look good on you.

“yeah. fine.”

harsh. clipped. not fine. it brings a furrow to her brows and a pang of hurt to her chest. you make a quick escape to the kitchen, only bewildering her more as she mentally checks off all the things she could have done to upset you. was asking for the moisturiser too much? she sure hopes it wasn’t. 

“you’re saying that.” she mutters dryly, half expecting you to ignore her, let alone respond. so she has a final gulp of the sake before following after you. spotting you hunched by the sink, face held in your hands. she steps beside you, palm hovering over your shoulder as if evaluating the risk of you smacking her hand away.

“still thinking about it?” she asks as if she’s on thin ice. and you hate the pity in her voice. yes, your heart’s still sore from the pain of betrayal, but it’s simultaneously breaking for a whole other reason. nothing to do with him. everything to do with her.

you respond with a nod that’s barely any movement, feeling your palms grow wet with a fresh line of tears you didn’t even realise had begun to slip. she sighs and pulls you into a side hug, lips pressing against the top of your head in something that’s not quite a kiss, but just as comforting. just as affectionate.

“it’s okay. you’ll be okay.” she murmurs, soothing. and you really want to believe her when she handles you like you’re delicate china, gently manoeuvring you to rest your chin against the crook of her neck because you might just shatter if she’s too quick.

and then it comes. messy and tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it.

“i think i like you.”

voice muffled against her shoulder, heart pounding in your lungs. and she stills for a moment, arms stiff around you as if she’s considering. you hold your breath like you’re waiting for the sting of rejection, for her to pull away. you don’t expect her to play dumb.

“we wouldn’t be friends if we didn't like each other. would we?” but you can feel the sapped bob of her throat as she swallows a little thicker, struggling to keep the tilt of nerves out of her voice as she bluffs naïveté. she keeps you close. maybe she pulls you closer. you’re too dizzy to decide.

and maybe you can just play the fool and blow it off, blame it on the headache of heartache and the just chugged sake storming through your system. but that feels like a cop out. a cheap excuse. more lies, more secrets. it’s not what you need. and it might be a mistake, it might ruin everything you’ve built with her over the years, but you need acknowledgement. closure.

“you know what i meant.” you huff, pulling back to look up at her in all your snotty glory, a muted sliver of the sass shining through the cracks, even in your sadness. she holds your gaze. and it’s there. that tenderness that brings warmth to her wearied eyes.

“i know.” she whispers, eyes closing for a moment and a small smile curls her lips. she takes one of your hands, tepidly lacing your fingers with her own before wrapping you in an embrace you immediately reciprocate. in relief, hugging her back just as tight.

“i think i like you, too.”

a/n: i wish shoko was real

[cookiieduh]

wake up from him .ᐟ

.shame that it took your crappy ex cheating on you to let you finally see what’s been in front of you the entire time..

pairing.ᐟ shoko x reader.

.cont.ᐟ SFW, fem!reader, mentions of cheating, best friends to lovers (?), wlw (duh), hurt/comfort, possibly a little angsty, fluff, the faintest whiff of crack perhaps (?), massaging, mutual pining, WILL be proofread in the morning, lmk if i missed anything :3

extra.ᐟ wc,, 2k,, for the wlw shoko enjoyers <3 once again sleep deprived, on the verge of passing away

“guys suck.”

shoko definitely wasn’t expecting that to be the first thing she hears from your lips the second she answers your sudden call at 8:34pm. a little disoriented, she doesn’t even register how blubbery your voice is, or the little sniffles that sound through the speaker.

“yeah, tell me about it.” she finally snorts. oblivious. setting her phone down as she continues fixing up another weird, late-night craving: salt and peppered apples. “we’re friends with the biggest dipshits ever.” she continues, voice lowered with the soft rumble of laughter.

but this wasn’t about geto, not even gojo. this was about your boyfriend. ex-boyfriend.

“no. shoko.” the sadness in your voice carries through her end of the line, making her pause the unconventional seasoning and sharply turn as if you were about to supernaturally materialise in front of her very eyes. “he cheated.” she can hear the shaky exhale, then dry sob before you promptly mute. 

and shoko’s confused by her reaction. of course there’s that immediate burst of anger. forget an inkling, she had a whole dissertation on why this guy was bad news. like how he took you to a hockey game with his brother, leaving without you because he ‘forgot you tagged along’, or how he always talked about future plans that somehow always excluded you.

but what surprises her is the little spark of relief, maybe satisfaction, that follows. was she a bad person? no. well, maybe. anyone would be happy if their longtime best friend got out of a toxic relationship, definitely a little forlorn at the prospect of the wakeup call being infidelity, but she was smiling. smiling. as if she had some kind of master plan that was falling into place.

but that can’t be right. you. her best friend. is understandably upset, torn by that scumbag leech’s betrayal. now is not the time to be cheesing. and you’re still on mute, probably halfway through the amount of tears one can cry in a lifetime, while she chomps on a pepped up apple-stick.

“want me to come over?” she asks, mouth full and voice muffled by the half-chewed fruit snack, but sympathetic all the same.

-

“just wasn’t expecting it, y’know?” your sobs have mostly slowed, but there’s still those uncontrollable little hic!’s that make you squeak as you rest your head on her chest. would it be skeevy of her to say she did? that she could smell the mess he was going to make from a mile away?

“i know.” she murmurs anyway, lidded tawny eyes dropping to your flushed profile as nimble fingers rake through your hair in a gesture that’s almost pacifying. “ugly men get a gorgeous girlfriend and don’t know how to act. he’s the only one to blame.” her voice trickles into something soft as she tries to comfort you.

she keeps combing through your hair with gentle hands, ignoring the snot she can feel bleeding through her shirt as your glossy eyes absently drift over the cheesy sitcom playing on the tv. she barely catches the canned laughter of the programme, eyes too busy trailing the occasional tear that slips from your red-rimmed depths.

there’s a blanketed silence between you, the kind of contentment that doesn’t need words. shoko’s heart beats steadily beneath your cheek. grounding. her lissom palms slide from your crown to your nape. fingers trace light stripes down to your shoulder, trailing soothing circles over the thick material of your sweatshirt. a barrier.

“you got anything to drink here?” she hums, gaze breaking from your profile to follow your vacant stare at the too-bright screen. “might help you feel better.” she feels selfish for suggesting alcohol, but she needs a smile from you tonight. at least one. and she has a knack for cracking better jokes when she’s just a little tipsy.

“yeah. got some open sake in the fridge.” you mutter after a beat, shakily sniffling against her one last time before raising your head. she pats you once before getting up, sauntering off in a way that almost catches your exhausted attention. you watch the subtle sway of her hips as she walks with something you chalk up as being passive interest. not because she has a nice butt.

you’re tired. overtired. fresh out of a maelstrom of a relationship, and in need of comfort, your brain is rousing with less than appropriate thoughts of a girl who’s closer than family. but that’s wrong. shoko is your ride or die, your best friend. you don’t even want to entertain thoughts of messing things up because of some unchecked sentiments.

before you can dwell in those unsolicited fantasies any longer, shoko returns. two full glasses in one hand, a substantially emptier bottle in the other. “mmh. this should do the trick.” she sighs with a grin, setting the dwindling rice wine down on the coffee table before slumping beside you. graceful enough to avoid any spillage.

“thanks.” you mumble as she hands you a glass, taking a steady sip before leaning back against the plush pillows lining the couch. “i needed this.” no more hiccups, but your cheeks are still flushed. lashes clumped with drying tears. puffy eyes, and a voice that still sounds too wet. but when you turn to shoko, she’s already watching you. eyes darting around your face like you’re something she needs to explore.

“c’mon.” she abruptly pats her thighs with a free hand. “put your feet up.” she smiles, bringing the glass to her lips as she waits for you to make a move. you’re friends. it’s normal. so you swivel around on the couch, doing as you’re told, calves coming to rest on her lap.

her eyes are drawn back to the poor acting on screen while her palm warmly splays over the bridge of your foot, lightly working up your shin. you’re left dazedly considering her, observing every micro expression that plays on her pretty face as she pretends to not notice you staring

“you’re so soft.” shoko muses quietly, caramel hues flitting down to the skin bared by your sleep shorts. and she knows exactly what she’s doing when she decides to trail her fingers across the smooth surface in a way that’s ticklish enough to make you squirm and almost spit the sake out.

“shoko—!” you hiss, throat burning from the sudden rush of your gulp. “don’t do that.” you continue, coughing. but it’s a struggle to take you seriously when you're still so nasally and swollen. despite the coy smirk on her face, she concedes, stroking you with a firmer touch. you melt.

“no, seriously.” she turns to you, taking another swig of rice wine before leaning back further against the couch, pulling you against her in a way that makes you yelp. “what moisturiser do you use?” she grins, rubbing over your legs with a comically exaggerated fervency that draws a giggle from your lips. perfect.

“wouldn’t you like to know?” you sass back, feeling a lot lighter than before as you playfully kick your legs up, making her laugh softly in response. you both settle, placid in the quiet joy of each other's company. and then you feel it. filthy and hot and burning, clawing up your throat, making spent tears sting your eyes again. for a totally different reason.

you like her. you really like her. more than a friend should.

maybe it’s the cruel realisation of those unwarranted feelings, or the way she just looks at you too warmly, but you down the almost full glass in one go. the taste does little to push away the scorch of guilt rising up your throat like bile. before she can lower her hand and continue touching, you swing your feet off her lap. 

“you okay?” she turns to you suddenly, a little startled in the way her sleepy eyes widen just a fraction. you set the glass down with a clink! before rising to your feet. she follows you with her eyes, confused by you pulling away so suddenly. she thought you were finally cheering up. this sudden distress doesn’t look good on you.

“yeah. fine.”

harsh. clipped. not fine. it brings a furrow to her brows and a pang of hurt to her chest. you make a quick escape to the kitchen, only bewildering her more as she mentally checks off all the things she could have done to upset you. was asking for the moisturiser too much? she sure hopes it wasn’t. 

“you’re saying that.” she mutters dryly, half expecting you to ignore her, let alone respond. so she has a final gulp of the sake before following after you. spotting you hunched by the sink, face held in your hands. she steps beside you, palm hovering over your shoulder as if evaluating the risk of you smacking her hand away.

“still thinking about it?” she asks as if she’s on thin ice. and you hate the pity in her voice. yes, your heart’s still sore from the pain of betrayal, but it’s simultaneously breaking for a whole other reason. nothing to do with him. everything to do with her.

you respond with a nod that’s barely any movement, feeling your palms grow wet with a fresh line of tears you didn’t even realise had begun to slip. she sighs and pulls you into a side hug, lips pressing against the top of your head in something that’s not quite a kiss, but just as comforting. just as affectionate.

“it’s okay. you’ll be okay.” she murmurs, soothing. and you really want to believe her when she handles you like you’re delicate china, gently manoeuvring you to rest your chin against the crook of her neck because you might just shatter if she’s too quick.

and then it comes. messy and tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it.

“i think i like you.”

voice muffled against her shoulder, heart pounding in your lungs. and she stills for a moment, arms stiff around you as if she’s considering. you hold your breath like you’re waiting for the sting of rejection, for her to pull away. you don’t expect her to play dumb.

“we wouldn’t be friends if we didn't like each other. would we?” but you can feel the sapped bob of her throat as she swallows a little thicker, struggling to keep the tilt of nerves out of her voice as she bluffs naïveté. she keeps you close. maybe she pulls you closer. you’re too dizzy to decide.

and maybe you can just play the fool and blow it off, blame it on the headache of heartache and the just chugged sake storming through your system. but that feels like a cop out. a cheap excuse. more lies, more secrets. it’s not what you need. and it might be a mistake, it might ruin everything you’ve built with her over the years, but you need acknowledgement. closure.

“you know what i meant.” you huff, pulling back to look up at her in all your snotty glory, a muted sliver of the sass shining through the cracks, even in your sadness. she holds your gaze. and it’s there. that tenderness that brings warmth to her wearied eyes.

“i know.” she whispers, eyes closing for a moment and a small smile curls her lips. she takes one of your hands, tepidly lacing your fingers with her own before wrapping you in an embrace you immediately reciprocate. in relief, hugging her back just as tight.

“i think i like you, too.”

a/n: i wish shoko was real

[cookiieduh]

hot n’ cold .ᐟ

.yes, he might be an emotionally unavailable asshole, but, god, if his stroke game isn’t the best.

.pairing.ᐟ suguru x reader.

.cont.ᐟ MDNI, fem!reader, not a lot of plot, decent amount of porn, fingering, dirty talk, possible degradation (?), lowk toxic duo, p in v, unprotected, coming inside, slight manipulation maybe?, geto has a tongue piercing, use of ‘girl’ etc, NAWT proofread, lmk if i missed anything :p

extra.ᐟ wc,, 3.4k,, was lowkey fading in and out of sleep while writing. urgh.

another slammed door, another breakup. for the nth time in your relationship, you and suguru had exchanged venomous ‘fuck you’s after yet another fickle argument that somehow meant more than it should’ve. something stupid that started from a joke satoru made about the guy you were dating before suguru.

and it was always the little things. the missteps in communication, the teasing that annoyed rather than amused, that always snowballed into endless screaming matches, relentless insults. and even messier link-ups when you both decided to forget about it two days later.

you weren’t good for him, he wasn’t good for you, yet it was as if the universe was pushing you back into his arms at each turn. it didn’t help that your best friends were his best friends, and his were yours. it’s always been you, shoko, satoru, and him. there was no getting out of that. whether you were dating or not.

there was once a time when satoru and shoko had been genuinely worried by your initial split, stressing over whose side to take. that was when it required debate: who was right? who was wrong? who was the last one to buy pizza? then you and suguru announced your reconciliation. relief lasted three days between the pair before suguru called gojo, cursing the hell out of you, swearing you off forever. 

by the fifth time they’d seen just how on-and-off your relationship could be, they stopped caring. picking sides turned into betting on how long your split would last. one of shoko’s personal highlights was a few months back. it was mid-afternoon when you’d announced your impending arrival before storming into her apartment minutes later. spouted “i hate him!”s that quickly hushed the second you got a call.

a whispered, “give me a sec.” and you were padding down into the hallway, returning with a grin and a wink that told her you weren’t hating him anymore. 

but in all honesty, it was boring. everyone liked you both better when you were just friends, maybe because that was when you guys were actually individuals, centered around things other than each other.

ah.

who cares when the dick’s good?

after effectively swinging the door off its hinges, to shut your now-ex out, you all but rush to block his number before he has the chance to do it first. incredibly petty but equally as important as the dignity you’re scrambling to save. 

it’s been two weeks. a new record, and definitely longer than satoru or shoko expected. two weeks and you were itching for him, like an addict that’s desperate for a fix of the dopamine-high of love-bombing instead of heroin. but you’d be damned if you’d break the ice first. that was his job—he’s the one that’s meant to win you back.

so what if you blocked his contact? he’s reached out to you through arranging songs in spotify playlists in ways that spell out messages before. where there’s a will there’s a way, and it seems like for once, he’s not very willing.

you’ve just got off the phone with shoko, rearranging the furniture in your living room for the umpteenth time, settling on something you’re bound to change in the next hour before you hear a knock on the door. you pause, head raising like a startled deer before the rapping sounds again, more insistent.

you step away from the couch, slowly, moving like a fugitive in your own home, tiptoeing in large steps until you reach the door. it’s not that late into the evening, the sun only on the cusp of setting, but still, you weren’t expecting anyone tonight.

with breath bated in a way you don’t quite understand, you lean forward to look through the peephole. your eyes narrow upon being graced with the sight of suguru. lips curl into a treacherous smirk before being schooled back into something deceptively catatonic.

you barely crack the door open before suguru straightens, swinging a bouquet of pink camellias forward, his lips pulling into a small smile. one you’re fighting not to reciprocate.

“took your time.” you mutter, trying to seem unbothered, even as your heart beats a little quicker at the romantic gesture. you open the door just a little wider, not enough to let him in but enough to show that you’re listening.

“what did you expect? a carrier pigeon the moment you block me?” he snorts as if he wouldn’t consider sending an entire flock if it came down to it. his eyes rove across your face as if trying to spot any difference a couple weeks can make, and if the lighting wasn’t so dim, maybe you’d be able to catch the way his pupils dilate just slightly.

“yes.” you let the ghost of a smile tug at your mouth, unable to suppress the smallest trace of satisfaction from slipping out. with a shoulder braced against the doorway, you’re still blocking him from coming in, dragging out the moment, testing how much grovelling you can get out of him before he catches on.

“oh really?” he mirrors your position, smirk stretching into something wolfish as he leans against the entryway, bouquet held languidly yet still important in his hand. “so, you gonna let me make things right?” he nods to the flowers once more for good measure. and you fold, finally taking the camellias, letting the sugary sweet scent overcome you.

suguru follows in after you, clicking the door shut behind him and toeing his shoes off as you make a beeline for your nice vases. just as you’re about to sink the pretty bunch into some fresh water, he comes up behind you, large hand splayed on the small of your back as he faces your side.

“i missed you. y’know that, right?” he purrs, low enough for you to catch it, intimate in the way that makes you swallow a little thicker. his fingers flex just slightly before smoothing circles over your slight arch. “didn’t mean to make you wait so long.” he’s leaning in closer, watching the way your hands treacherously tremble as you arrange the flora. and it’s infuriating. the way he makes you melt even when you try to put up a front.

a tight-lipped “mhm.” is all you can manage without risking an embarrassingly light voice. each time you break up, you’re left wondering why you ever took him back. then he gets his hands back on you, and you forget stupidly fast until the next time shit hits the fan.

“mhm.” he hums back at you with a simper, allowing you just enough space to position the glass the way you want over the table. “moved the couch again?” he muses, glancing around your altered furniture placement. now you’re definitely going to change it again when he leaves. out of spite.

“thanks for the flowers.” and you were right to think your voice would sound just a little too airy. embarrassment immediately heats your cheeks and you turn away, only spurring his saccharine provocations on as he leans back in. closer this time. pressing into your side as his hand slips to your hip.

“yeah? you like them?” suguru’s voice is the sweetest mix of silk and tease, making your face regretfully burn hotter. his fingers glide over the material of your waistband, testing the waters, probing at how much you’ll let him get away with.

“they’re pretty.” you nod, gaze trailing over the slope of each soft, pink petal as you try not to twitch under his palm. god, he’s barely touching you and you’re already wavering like a leaf under a breeze.

“pretty flowers for a pretty girl.” you can hear the smirk in his tone without even having to look. hand still braced on your hip, he leans forward, planting a kiss to your cheek, pillowy lips pressing against your heated skin. is it strange to say you missed his scent? the faint whispers of vanilla and something woody.

it’s enough to make you yield, tilting closer to him. an invitation to keep going. 

with your front still pressed against the counter, he pulls you closer, other hand moving up to cradle your cheek as he kisses a trail to your lips. unhurried. languid as he takes his time retracing the touch that’d began to fade during the days you’d been deprived of each other. 

the press of your mouths seems to voice the words you can’t quite say. “i’ve missed this. i’ve missed you.” it comes naturally when he licks into the seam of your lips, cool metal barbell stroking against your tongue. you loop your arms around his neck, breathing him in. flowers are the last thing on your mind as he turns you around, pressing you back against the tabletop, hand hitching under your ass before coaxing your thigh to hike up his hip.

“you still want me?” he breaks away for a moment, eyes barely cracking open, sultry and lidded. you find yourself nodding before he can pull away further. and he doesn’t grin, doesn’t tease, only leans back in, kissing you. this time, like his life depends on it.

his hand strokes your thigh, the other sliding up and down your side before slipping beneath your shirt. the warmth of his palm seeps through your skin, straight into your heart. where he’s wormed him way in, where he’ll always have a place. soft sighs and quiet moans are muffled against his lips, your own fingers tightening around his shoulders before snaking up his inky tresses, tugging him impossibly closer.

“here.” your lips part around the small word, the simple little command that gives him all the opportunity to press back into your maw, the confirmation to hoist you up the counter and continue his lascivious assault. across your jaw, down your neck, pulling away only to lift your blouse up and over your head.

suguru’s head dips down once more, plush lips mouthing at your cleavage in a way that makes you gasp. shuddering under the warmth of his touch as you feel it everywhere, melting like putty beneath his hands as your fingers thread through his strands, mussing the silky black locks as he laves at your nipples through the thin material of your bra.

you don’t need to say a word, offer any guidance. he just knows. knows what buttons to press, knows what touches are needed to draw out those pretty, breathy sighs from your lips. maybe it only feels this intense because you’ve been left without the attention for too long. but who cares—you could get drunk on this kind of worship, the way his hands rove over you with a reverence and hunger reserved for something seraphic.

“suguru,” your head tips back as he delves lower, cool metal stud flicking over the soft skin of your stomach before he straightens up, slowly easing you back until your hand drops from his head, then discarding his own shirt. “don’t stop.” you breathe out as if he would. he bites his lower lip as his mouth curves into an amorous smirk.

“really? because i was just about to…” his voice is notably huskier as teases, leaning forward with palms braced either side of you. “just feel, okay?” you wriggle your hips as he tugs your pants down, eyes flitting down to find your cotton panties already soaked through. “mmh, that’s what i like to see.” he smiles back up at you, thumb pressing down against the damp patch.

you arch, lips parting around a sweetly spoken “oh!”  as he slips the flimsy material down your legs, dropping it somewhere on the floor.

he drags a finger up your glossy slit before circling the puffy bundle of nerves at the apex. wasting no time slipping a finger inside, shallowly pumping twice before he pushes another in, breaching that tight ring of resistance before pressing against the spongy spot he’s come to memorise.

“s’not fair.” you gasp as he abruptly scissors the pair of digits inside you, fighting to keep your eyes open and trained on him as he lets out his own breathy groan at the way your gummy walls squeeze. you’re embarrassed your bravado has dwindled from his fingers alone. “it’s not fair,” he repeats with a grin, voice pitching up to mimic your cadence. lidded eyes flitting up to meet yours with an infuriating mirth glinting in their lavender depths.

“what’s not fair is how tight you’re gripping me, sweetheart.” he wants to tease but he ends up hissing through his teeth, lengthy digits continuing to thrust into you. “i can barely move my fingers.” suguru grits out, though with how loud each squelch! of your dripping pussy is, he can’t be struggling that much. definitely not when it comes to making a mess out of you.

“ah—oh, f-fuck!” your thighs begin to quake, eyes rolling back as his fingers curl against your g-spot for the nth time. “oh, baby.” he groans, all feigned suave melting away the second he feels your syrupy heat twitch around his probing caress against your velvet walls. “so. fuckin’. perfect.” he bites his lip, struggling between staring at the way his fingers disappear in and out of you, or that cute pinch between your brows.

“oh god!” you mewl as you peak, arching wildly off the tabletop, knuckles bleaching as you grip the counter with everything you have. lucky that the vase is just far enough to sit pretty, unaffected. your legs are still shaking, even as he hushes you with quiet murmurs of praise. praise that’s lined with the kind of smug satisfaction he always seems to have after making you come undone.

with your cunny still pulsing around his digits, he slips them out, bringing them to his lips before pressing forward. “mmph, could never let myself forget how good you taste.” you keen at the sudden absence of his middle and ring fingers plugging you up. thighs just begging to clamp shut around his hips that keep them torturously wedged open. 

blinking back the haze in your glossy vision, you feel it. the bulge that strains in his sweats, practically throbbing against your inner thigh. and like clockwork, you spring back up, no longer boneless as you intentionally rub your sweat-slicked skin against the ridge of his dick.

“greedyyy girl.” geto drawls, breathing just a little heavier, a little more ragged as you continue to nudge his erection. “one wasn’t enough? need me to fill you up with my cock, too, mmh?” crooning as if he wasn’t planning on sinking into that delicious heat, anyway. he’s already tugging his pants down, failing miserably to conceal the desperation in his haphazard attempt at removing the last of his garments.

and you seriously underestimated how much you could forget in a fortnight, because you didn’t remember him being this big. the angry flush of his shaft is intimidating in the way it stands almost ramrod straight the moment he frees it from the confines of his sweats. you feel a fresh rush of heat pool in your core at the sight. cheeks warming in both anticipation and the heady lust that fogs the air.

before you know it, you’re leaning back. he’s pushing forward. and now the slickened head of his member is prodding against your suddenly cinched entrance. “thought i stretched you ou—hahh—” his mouth drops open, a quiet groan breathed out from the way your snug walls envelop his throbbing cock. slowly. inch by inch, until he sheathes himself completely. 

his forehead crashes against your shoulder as he pants. nothing compared to the way you’re scrabbling for any kind of anchor on the empty counter, the way your hips buck and twitch, mindlessly trying to accommodate the size after going so long without the stretch. you’d almost think suguru was in pain with the way his teeth sink into your collarbone, grounding himself against you as you squeeze so tightly around him.

“gonna decapitate my fuckin’ dick, i swear.” his voice lowers to something between a growl and a whine, canines lightly scraping over the sensitive skin of your clavicle, suckling love-bites into the tender flesh as he bottoms out.

“s-shut—uh!” your hollow rebuke is cut off when he starts to move. one of your clammy palms slaps hardly against the tabletop, fingers flexing as if they could stop you from slipping. you paw at his nape with the other, feathery digits lacing between the smaller hairs at the base of his hairline while the rest of his sooty locks fall forward, veiling you both in a silky, ink curtain.

in and out, in and out. fucking into you with a pace even more unforgiving than his fingers. one big, strong hand comes to rest beneath the nook above your ass, holding you up while he intertwines his fingers with your own, raising his head only to bring them to his lips, pressing chaste kisses against the rawed knuckles.

“s-so precious, so perfect.” he hisses against your skin with a sanctity reserved for the divine, pulling you closer to him as if he needs you in his lungs, his soul. and between the oxytocin, the serotonin, there’s that sense of warmth that seeps deep into your bones when things are good between you. and they are. in this moment, they are.

it’s almost jarring. the intensity, the passion. like he’s a man driven to ferality, hips rutting, pelvis slamming against your own. his head falls back, your back lurches. saccharine gasps mingling with bated breaths as you both unravel.

“fuh-fuck—suguruuu!” you slur, chin tipping up while your nails scrape against his flexing shoulder blades, scratching, marking. and if you weren’t so fucked up, maybe you’d question if he could hear you over the sound of his own rambling. “love you, baby.” “i won’t fuck it up this time.” “keep me,” whispering words of desperate pleas and praises as your second orgasm comes hurtling towards you.

with each punishing thrust of his hips, suguru’s throbbing tip digs into that patch of nerves that makes you cry out, mashing meanly against your slickened walls. you shudder with each deep stroke, nails dragging angry red lines across the sculpted planes of his back. and then you’re squeezing around him, unrepentantly tight as white-hot sparks dance behind your eyes.

“o-oh FUCK!” you’re howling, a choked sob ripping from the back of your throat that makes him groan in response. your arms loop and tug him closer with a force that belies your wobbly state. that’s his last straw, sending him pummelling over the edge right behind you.

you hold him close, like you want to drown in him. legs quaking even more violently than before as he empties inside of you. the heat of his bliss paints your rippling cavern. you feel so full. he slumps against you, lips finding the crook of your neck as he flounders for breath.

he keeps you stuffed, even as his cock slowly begins to soften, occasionally twitching as your pussy continues to flutter around him. still panting, his hands slide up, index fingers slipping beneath the straps of your bra to gently trail over the skin. tender. content. 

“fuuuck.” suguru breathes out in something like awe, leaning in closer, breath ghosting over your cheek as he finally pulls out, thick digits replacing his dick to keep his release from dribbling out. “you know i love you, right?” his voice is husky against the shell of your ear like he’s whispering a dirty secret instead of a declaration of affection. he dips down to nip it, then soothes the sting with his tongue, holding you steady against the counter.

“more than anything.” his voice is pitched low, chest rising and falling with a quickness that mirrors your own. and suddenly everything’s serious. your eyes crack open, hazy gaze sweeping over him, the flowers that somehow remained despite the almost animalistic way your bodies moved together, the pinch of his brows as he holds you close.

it’s bound to break in time, but you nod despite yourself. boneless and sated and willingly wrapping yourself around his finger once more.

a/n: i am so tired. free me from these shackles. anyway, i’m on break so maybe i will maybe do more writing.

[cookiieduh]

I see your recent fic and I'm soooo excited to go read it when I have time I just KNOW I'm gonna be eating well 😩🩷

ughhhh i love you 💞💞

[cookiieduh]

hot n’ cold .ᐟ

.yes, he might be an emotionally unavailable asshole, but, god, if his stroke game isn’t the best.

.pairing.ᐟ suguru x reader.

.cont.ᐟ MDNI, fem!reader, not a lot of plot, decent amount of porn, fingering, dirty talk, possible degradation (?), lowk toxic duo, p in v, unprotected, coming inside, slight manipulation maybe?, geto has a tongue piercing, use of ‘girl’ etc, NAWT proofread, lmk if i missed anything :p

extra.ᐟ wc,, 3.4k,, was lowkey fading in and out of sleep while writing. urgh.

another slammed door, another breakup. for the nth time in your relationship, you and suguru had exchanged venomous ‘fuck you’s after yet another fickle argument that somehow meant more than it should’ve. something stupid that started from a joke satoru made about the guy you were dating before suguru.

and it was always the little things. the missteps in communication, the teasing that annoyed rather than amused, that always snowballed into endless screaming matches, relentless insults. and even messier link-ups when you both decided to forget about it two days later.

you weren’t good for him, he wasn’t good for you, yet it was as if the universe was pushing you back into his arms at each turn. it didn’t help that your best friends were his best friends, and his were yours. it’s always been you, shoko, satoru, and him. there was no getting out of that. whether you were dating or not.

there was once a time when satoru and shoko had been genuinely worried by your initial split, stressing over whose side to take. that was when it required debate: who was right? who was wrong? who was the last one to buy pizza? then you and suguru announced your reconciliation. relief lasted three days between the pair before suguru called gojo, cursing the hell out of you, swearing you off forever. 

by the fifth time they’d seen just how on-and-off your relationship could be, they stopped caring. picking sides turned into betting on how long your split would last. one of shoko’s personal highlights was a few months back. it was mid-afternoon when you’d announced your impending arrival before storming into her apartment minutes later. spouted “i hate him!”s that quickly hushed the second you got a call.

a whispered, “give me a sec.” and you were padding down into the hallway, returning with a grin and a wink that told her you weren’t hating him anymore. 

but in all honesty, it was boring. everyone liked you both better when you were just friends, maybe because that was when you guys were actually individuals, centered around things other than each other.

ah.

who cares when the dick’s good?

after effectively swinging the door off its hinges, to shut your now-ex out, you all but rush to block his number before he has the chance to do it first. incredibly petty but equally as important as the dignity you’re scrambling to save. 

it’s been two weeks. a new record, and definitely longer than satoru or shoko expected. two weeks and you were itching for him, like an addict that’s desperate for a fix of the dopamine-high of love-bombing instead of heroin. but you’d be damned if you’d break the ice first. that was his job—he’s the one that’s meant to win you back.

so what if you blocked his contact? he’s reached out to you through arranging songs in spotify playlists in ways that spell out messages before. where there’s a will there’s a way, and it seems like for once, he’s not very willing.

you’ve just got off the phone with shoko, rearranging the furniture in your living room for the umpteenth time, settling on something you’re bound to change in the next hour before you hear a knock on the door. you pause, head raising like a startled deer before the rapping sounds again, more insistent.

you step away from the couch, slowly, moving like a fugitive in your own home, tiptoeing in large steps until you reach the door. it’s not that late into the evening, the sun only on the cusp of setting, but still, you weren’t expecting anyone tonight.

with breath bated in a way you don’t quite understand, you lean forward to look through the peephole. your eyes narrow upon being graced with the sight of suguru. lips curl into a treacherous smirk before being schooled back into something deceptively catatonic.

you barely crack the door open before suguru straightens, swinging a bouquet of pink camellias forward, his lips pulling into a small smile. one you’re fighting not to reciprocate.

“took your time.” you mutter, trying to seem unbothered, even as your heart beats a little quicker at the romantic gesture. you open the door just a little wider, not enough to let him in but enough to show that you’re listening.

“what did you expect? a carrier pigeon the moment you block me?” he snorts as if he wouldn’t consider sending an entire flock if it came down to it. his eyes rove across your face as if trying to spot any difference a couple weeks can make, and if the lighting wasn’t so dim, maybe you’d be able to catch the way his pupils dilate just slightly.

“yes.” you let the ghost of a smile tug at your mouth, unable to suppress the smallest trace of satisfaction from slipping out. with a shoulder braced against the doorway, you’re still blocking him from coming in, dragging out the moment, testing how much grovelling you can get out of him before he catches on.

“oh really?” he mirrors your position, smirk stretching into something wolfish as he leans against the entryway, bouquet held languidly yet still important in his hand. “so, you gonna let me make things right?” he nods to the flowers once more for good measure. and you fold, finally taking the camellias, letting the sugary sweet scent overcome you.

suguru follows in after you, clicking the door shut behind him and toeing his shoes off as you make a beeline for your nice vases. just as you’re about to sink the pretty bunch into some fresh water, he comes up behind you, large hand splayed on the small of your back as he faces your side.

“i missed you. y’know that, right?” he purrs, low enough for you to catch it, intimate in the way that makes you swallow a little thicker. his fingers flex just slightly before smoothing circles over your slight arch. “didn’t mean to make you wait so long.” he’s leaning in closer, watching the way your hands treacherously tremble as you arrange the flora. and it’s infuriating. the way he makes you melt even when you try to put up a front.

a tight-lipped “mhm.” is all you can manage without risking an embarrassingly light voice. each time you break up, you’re left wondering why you ever took him back. then he gets his hands back on you, and you forget stupidly fast until the next time shit hits the fan.

“mhm.” he hums back at you with a simper, allowing you just enough space to position the glass the way you want over the table. “moved the couch again?” he muses, glancing around your altered furniture placement. now you’re definitely going to change it again when he leaves. out of spite.

“thanks for the flowers.” and you were right to think your voice would sound just a little too airy. embarrassment immediately heats your cheeks and you turn away, only spurring his saccharine provocations on as he leans back in. closer this time. pressing into your side as his hand slips to your hip.

“yeah? you like them?” suguru’s voice is the sweetest mix of silk and tease, making your face regretfully burn hotter. his fingers glide over the material of your waistband, testing the waters, probing at how much you’ll let him get away with.

“they’re pretty.” you nod, gaze trailing over the slope of each soft, pink petal as you try not to twitch under his palm. god, he’s barely touching you and you’re already wavering like a leaf under a breeze.

“pretty flowers for a pretty girl.” you can hear the smirk in his tone without even having to look. hand still braced on your hip, he leans forward, planting a kiss to your cheek, pillowy lips pressing against your heated skin. is it strange to say you missed his scent? the faint whispers of vanilla and something woody.

it’s enough to make you yield, tilting closer to him. an invitation to keep going. 

with your front still pressed against the counter, he pulls you closer, other hand moving up to cradle your cheek as he kisses a trail to your lips. unhurried. languid as he takes his time retracing the touch that’d began to fade during the days you’d been deprived of each other. 

the press of your mouths seems to voice the words you can’t quite say. “i’ve missed this. i’ve missed you.” it comes naturally when he licks into the seam of your lips, cool metal barbell stroking against your tongue. you loop your arms around his neck, breathing him in. flowers are the last thing on your mind as he turns you around, pressing you back against the tabletop, hand hitching under your ass before coaxing your thigh to hike up his hip.

“you still want me?” he breaks away for a moment, eyes barely cracking open, sultry and lidded. you find yourself nodding before he can pull away further. and he doesn’t grin, doesn’t tease, only leans back in, kissing you. this time, like his life depends on it.

his hand strokes your thigh, the other sliding up and down your side before slipping beneath your shirt. the warmth of his palm seeps through your skin, straight into your heart. where he’s wormed him way in, where he’ll always have a place. soft sighs and quiet moans are muffled against his lips, your own fingers tightening around his shoulders before snaking up his inky tresses, tugging him impossibly closer.

“here.” your lips part around the small word, the simple little command that gives him all the opportunity to press back into your maw, the confirmation to hoist you up the counter and continue his lascivious assault. across your jaw, down your neck, pulling away only to lift your blouse up and over your head.

suguru’s head dips down once more, plush lips mouthing at your cleavage in a way that makes you gasp. shuddering under the warmth of his touch as you feel it everywhere, melting like putty beneath his hands as your fingers thread through his strands, mussing the silky black locks as he laves at your nipples through the thin material of your bra.

you don’t need to say a word, offer any guidance. he just knows. knows what buttons to press, knows what touches are needed to draw out those pretty, breathy sighs from your lips. maybe it only feels this intense because you’ve been left without the attention for too long. but who cares—you could get drunk on this kind of worship, the way his hands rove over you with a reverence and hunger reserved for something seraphic.

“suguru,” your head tips back as he delves lower, cool metal stud flicking over the soft skin of your stomach before he straightens up, slowly easing you back until your hand drops from his head, then discarding his own shirt. “don’t stop.” you breathe out as if he would. he bites his lower lip as his mouth curves into an amorous smirk.

“really? because i was just about to…” his voice is notably huskier as teases, leaning forward with palms braced either side of you. “just feel, okay?” you wriggle your hips as he tugs your pants down, eyes flitting down to find your cotton panties already soaked through. “mmh, that’s what i like to see.” he smiles back up at you, thumb pressing down against the damp patch.

you arch, lips parting around a sweetly spoken “oh!”  as he slips the flimsy material down your legs, dropping it somewhere on the floor.

he drags a finger up your glossy slit before circling the puffy bundle of nerves at the apex. wasting no time slipping a finger inside, shallowly pumping twice before he pushes another in, breaching that tight ring of resistance before pressing against the spongy spot he’s come to memorise.

“s’not fair.” you gasp as he abruptly scissors the pair of digits inside you, fighting to keep your eyes open and trained on him as he lets out his own breathy groan at the way your gummy walls squeeze. you’re embarrassed your bravado has dwindled from his fingers alone. “it’s not fair,” he repeats with a grin, voice pitching up to mimic your cadence. lidded eyes flitting up to meet yours with an infuriating mirth glinting in their lavender depths.

“what’s not fair is how tight you’re gripping me, sweetheart.” he wants to tease but he ends up hissing through his teeth, lengthy digits continuing to thrust into you. “i can barely move my fingers.” suguru grits out, though with how loud each squelch! of your dripping pussy is, he can’t be struggling that much. definitely not when it comes to making a mess out of you.

“ah—oh, f-fuck!” your thighs begin to quake, eyes rolling back as his fingers curl against your g-spot for the nth time. “oh, baby.” he groans, all feigned suave melting away the second he feels your syrupy heat twitch around his probing caress against your velvet walls. “so. fuckin’. perfect.” he bites his lip, struggling between staring at the way his fingers disappear in and out of you, or that cute pinch between your brows.

“oh god!” you mewl as you peak, arching wildly off the tabletop, knuckles bleaching as you grip the counter with everything you have. lucky that the vase is just far enough to sit pretty, unaffected. your legs are still shaking, even as he hushes you with quiet murmurs of praise. praise that’s lined with the kind of smug satisfaction he always seems to have after making you come undone.

with your cunny still pulsing around his digits, he slips them out, bringing them to his lips before pressing forward. “mmph, could never let myself forget how good you taste.” you keen at the sudden absence of his middle and ring fingers plugging you up. thighs just begging to clamp shut around his hips that keep them torturously wedged open. 

blinking back the haze in your glossy vision, you feel it. the bulge that strains in his sweats, practically throbbing against your inner thigh. and like clockwork, you spring back up, no longer boneless as you intentionally rub your sweat-slicked skin against the ridge of his dick.

“greedyyy girl.” geto drawls, breathing just a little heavier, a little more ragged as you continue to nudge his erection. “one wasn’t enough? need me to fill you up with my cock, too, mmh?” crooning as if he wasn’t planning on sinking into that delicious heat, anyway. he’s already tugging his pants down, failing miserably to conceal the desperation in his haphazard attempt at removing the last of his garments.

and you seriously underestimated how much you could forget in a fortnight, because you didn’t remember him being this big. the angry flush of his shaft is intimidating in the way it stands almost ramrod straight the moment he frees it from the confines of his sweats. you feel a fresh rush of heat pool in your core at the sight. cheeks warming in both anticipation and the heady lust that fogs the air.

before you know it, you’re leaning back. he’s pushing forward. and now the slickened head of his member is prodding against your suddenly cinched entrance. “thought i stretched you ou—hahh—” his mouth drops open, a quiet groan breathed out from the way your snug walls envelop his throbbing cock. slowly. inch by inch, until he sheathes himself completely. 

his forehead crashes against your shoulder as he pants. nothing compared to the way you’re scrabbling for any kind of anchor on the empty counter, the way your hips buck and twitch, mindlessly trying to accommodate the size after going so long without the stretch. you’d almost think suguru was in pain with the way his teeth sink into your collarbone, grounding himself against you as you squeeze so tightly around him.

“gonna decapitate my fuckin’ dick, i swear.” his voice lowers to something between a growl and a whine, canines lightly scraping over the sensitive skin of your clavicle, suckling love-bites into the tender flesh as he bottoms out.

“s-shut—uh!” your hollow rebuke is cut off when he starts to move. one of your clammy palms slaps hardly against the tabletop, fingers flexing as if they could stop you from slipping. you paw at his nape with the other, feathery digits lacing between the smaller hairs at the base of his hairline while the rest of his sooty locks fall forward, veiling you both in a silky, ink curtain.

in and out, in and out. fucking into you with a pace even more unforgiving than his fingers. one big, strong hand comes to rest beneath the nook above your ass, holding you up while he intertwines his fingers with your own, raising his head only to bring them to his lips, pressing chaste kisses against the rawed knuckles.

“s-so precious, so perfect.” he hisses against your skin with a sanctity reserved for the divine, pulling you closer to him as if he needs you in his lungs, his soul. and between the oxytocin, the serotonin, there’s that sense of warmth that seeps deep into your bones when things are good between you. and they are. in this moment, they are.

it’s almost jarring. the intensity, the passion. like he’s a man driven to ferality, hips rutting, pelvis slamming against your own. his head falls back, your back lurches. saccharine gasps mingling with bated breaths as you both unravel.

“fuh-fuck—suguruuu!” you slur, chin tipping up while your nails scrape against his flexing shoulder blades, scratching, marking. and if you weren’t so fucked up, maybe you’d question if he could hear you over the sound of his own rambling. “love you, baby.” “i won’t fuck it up this time.” “keep me,” whispering words of desperate pleas and praises as your second orgasm comes hurtling towards you.

with each punishing thrust of his hips, suguru’s throbbing tip digs into that patch of nerves that makes you cry out, mashing meanly against your slickened walls. you shudder with each deep stroke, nails dragging angry red lines across the sculpted planes of his back. and then you’re squeezing around him, unrepentantly tight as white-hot sparks dance behind your eyes.

“o-oh FUCK!” you’re howling, a choked sob ripping from the back of your throat that makes him groan in response. your arms loop and tug him closer with a force that belies your wobbly state. that’s his last straw, sending him pummelling over the edge right behind you.

you hold him close, like you want to drown in him. legs quaking even more violently than before as he empties inside of you. the heat of his bliss paints your rippling cavern. you feel so full. he slumps against you, lips finding the crook of your neck as he flounders for breath.

he keeps you stuffed, even as his cock slowly begins to soften, occasionally twitching as your pussy continues to flutter around him. still panting, his hands slide up, index fingers slipping beneath the straps of your bra to gently trail over the skin. tender. content. 

“fuuuck.” suguru breathes out in something like awe, leaning in closer, breath ghosting over your cheek as he finally pulls out, thick digits replacing his dick to keep his release from dribbling out. “you know i love you, right?” his voice is husky against the shell of your ear like he’s whispering a dirty secret instead of a declaration of affection. he dips down to nip it, then soothes the sting with his tongue, holding you steady against the counter.

“more than anything.” his voice is pitched low, chest rising and falling with a quickness that mirrors your own. and suddenly everything’s serious. your eyes crack open, hazy gaze sweeping over him, the flowers that somehow remained despite the almost animalistic way your bodies moved together, the pinch of his brows as he holds you close.

it’s bound to break in time, but you nod despite yourself. boneless and sated and willingly wrapping yourself around his finger once more.

a/n: i am so tired. free me from these shackles. anyway, i’m on break so maybe i will maybe do more writing.

[cookiieduh]

Idk

ᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɴᴏᴛᴇ, ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ɢᴏᴊᴏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴜɴᴄʜɪᴇꜱᴛ ᴍᴜɴᴄʜ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴜɴᴄʜ.

11:05AM, all school faculty called to a meeting. You’d be sitting across the lengthy table from Satoru, avoiding his sights at all times, as if locking eyes would be the greatest betrayal to the elders that were heartily prattling on about things such as location changes and different pay outs.

One of the seniors would look directly at you, leading you to nod along to whatever they were saying until a loud ping! Sounds through your phone.

“So sorry.” You’d quietly mumble the apology, batting off the looks of judgement from some of your colleagues. Fumbling to turn your device onto silent mode, you glance down at the screen.

Toru: let me eyp 1m ago

Exhaling a deep breath through your nose, you shoot your grinning boyfriend a glare from across the mahogany, fingers flying frantically over the screen as you type out a quick response.

You: Fuck off. sent just now

you silence your phone and tuck it back into your pocket. Cheeks still warmed from embarrassment, knee bouncing up and down restlessly beneath the table, you try to tune back in to whatever those hags are waffling about now.

Even still, you’re watching him from your peripherals even after turning back to the teacher addressing you all, you watch as his hands move under the desk again, before you feel a buzz! followed by another against your ass. Nanami, the ever perceptive man he is, seems to catch on to what’s happening and gives Satoru his own look of disapproval before honing his focus back to the council member speaking.

Another minute, another buzz. It’s not a new text, just your phone reminding you that you’ve still not opened what’s been sent.

The meeting would eventually draw to a close, everyone dismissing themselves and filtering out of the room. The moment you pass the threshold of the doorway, you whip out your phone to open the plethora of texts Satoru had managed to sneakily send between the drone of whatever the old farts had been saying before you feel a pat on your shoulder.

“Fuck off? I’m wounded.” You turn to see the white-haired man play up the theatrics, dramatically pushing his lips into a pout. You walk off with a dismissive roll of your eyes but it’s not long until he’s swinging an arm over your shoulder, his weight pressing you into a slower pace, foiling your plans to escape back into your office.

“We were in the middle of a meeting.” Your tone is flat as you grit your teeth. You can’t even shake him off, not when he clings to you like a parasite. He lets you make it halfway down the hall, just a few steps away from your office before stopping you.

“Offer still stands.”

And then you’d be sprawled out atop your desk, papers and file reports shoved aside and crumpled, his lips nuzzling the apex of your thighs that only part wider to let him in. His fingers would knead the soft muscle, tongue lolling out with a sighed “hahh”, and he’d dive straight in, pink muscle dipping straight into your soppy cunt.

“Not, mph, telling me to fuck off now, huh?” He’d eventually pull back with a grin, chin glistening, ego stroked, and you, laying there—disheveled and panting on top of the mission folders.

[cookiieduh]

Just like candy .ᐟ

.Can you really blame him? You’re just too sweet—it’s not his fault he can’t get enough!

.pairings.ᐟ choso x reader, geto x reader, gojo x reader.

.cont.ᐟ MDNI, fem!reader, cunnilingus (duh), JJK men get pussy-drunkkk, fingering, edging, praise, dirty talk, pet names, light dacryphillia, overstimulation, hint of dumbification, not proof-read, porn with litch no plot, light bondage perhaps, dom and sub dynamic (geto),

.extra.ᐟ whew… jumping straight into it lol. part two with the other JJK men. soon.

CHOSO KAMO٠ ࣪⭑ hold on tight .ᐟ

“Mmph, babyyy,” Choso mumbles deliriously against your cunt, the vibrations of his husky, almost whiny, voice against the sensitive flesh making you bite back a squeal. 

He has you sprawled out across the mattress, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs as he holds them apart, preventing them from quivering shut in attempts to quell the onslaught of his crazed tongue.

“C-Cho, s’too much!” you choke out, head barely raising before immediately falling back, as if there was a magnetic pull between your cranium and the pillow. You writhe under the press of his upper body, legs shaking beneath his palms because he just doesn’t. Let. Up.

“C’mon, baby. Please, jus’ a little more,” He pulls back for a second, blown out eyes meeting your glossy ones as his warm breath puffs over your abused sex.

Maintaining eye-contact, Choso’s tongue lolls out once more, just barely grazing your clit. 

Light taps and swirls until the little kitten-licks grow bolder, flicking between that sensitive bundle of nerves to those puffy folds. His fingers continue to press into your thighs, kneading the muscle as he continues the assault.

He’s been going for so long, is his jaw not aching?

Well, it is. But, hey, any ache is worth seeing you melt into a puddle right before his eyes.

“Ngh—oh, fuuuck!” Your chest heaves with dry sobs, boobs bouncing hypnotically as you twitch. You can feel your boyfriend smile against your sore pussy before licking another stripe up the swollen folds.

Choso laps and laves at your cunt like a man possessed, never giving you even a second of reprieve. Honestly, you’re not sure how much more you can give him.

One of your hands slides up to squeeze your breasts as your back lurches off the bed, the other flying to thread through your lover's messy, black tresses.

“You’re so, mmh, squirmy,” you can hear the smirk in his voice as he moans lowly against your slit, giving it one last messy kiss before he pulling away to take in the view you’re presenting him with: Hair beyond mussed by your endless thrashing against the pillows, shirt ridden up to the base of your throat, red marks blooming on the plush of your tits after grabbing them so tightly.

What a beautiful mess.

Chin glistening, Choso grins as you, utterly whipped and entirely pussy-drunk. “Think you can give me oneee more, baby?” He rasps, head dipping down to rest against your stomach. He plants kisses just above your navel, and you think that this might be your chance to catch a break.

Much to your dismay, you thought wrong.

Choso continues to trail kisses across the soft skin of your tummy, grip loosening around your thighs, only to trail further up. Another desperate mewl is pulled from your throat as his index finger meanly skims circles around your clit, avoiding giving the nub any direct attention.

You want to cry.

“You s-said, jus’ a lil’ more,” you whine, tears gathering at the edge of your lashes after throwing your head back for the nth time this evening.

The only response you get is an amused snort. His fingers continue to evade the place you need them most, purposely, torturously.

“Looking so pretty when you’re all messy f’me.” He murmurs adoringly, wholly ignoring your rebuke that rings hollow to even your ears.

Choso watches your body jerk with a mix of fascination and fascination, observing the way you buck your hips, seeking something more than the way he barely dips his fingers in and out of your slick entrance.

It’s the sweetest torture once he finally slips the digits inside your silky cavern, curling them so suddenly, so forcefully, that it makes you see stars behind your tightly shut lids. “Oh, there she is.” Choso simpers lazily as he pumps his middle and ring fingers in and out, grazing that spongey spot inside just right, sending you pummelling towards another earth-shattering orgasm.

Tears are trailing glistening paths down your flushed cheeks as your calves lock around his shoulders, thighs spasming, pussy clenching, as you cum for the who-knows-how-many-eth time tonight.

Finally, after leaving you thoroughly fucked-out by his fingers, he slowly eases them out. You feel sore all over, and the sudden emptiness makes you cringe. You raise your head just slightly to look down as Choso, the satisfied, hazy smile he sports as he stares down at your ruined pussy. Your cheeks burn.

His eyes flit up to meet yours as he rises to his knees. “Gorgeous,” he breathes, leaning down to press a kiss against the drying tears on your cheeks.

“You’re perfect, sweetheart. So perfect.” He litters another few pecks against your jaw before capturing your lips with his own. You taste yourself on his tongue as it breaches the seam of your mouth, making your breath hitch in your throat.

He pulls back, your gaze drifts down.

“Cho-” you begin, eyes zeroing in on the stiff bulge tenting his grey sweats, a small, damp patch where he’d felt his own dribble of bliss from lapping at your syrupy folds. It was as if he enjoyed giving you head more than you enjoyed receiving it. “Do you want to—?”

“Don’t worry about it,” He cuts you off with another smooch, attempting to quell your concern and growing sense of guilt before rising.

You’re still pouting when he looks down at you, eyes lidded so sultrily.

"Baby, I'm serious. Don't worry--hahh--!" he cuts himself off with a breathy sigh as you reach for him, palm pressing against the thick outline of his rigid length.

All soreness in your body is immediately forgotten by his airy response. Now you're tugging down the waistband of his pants, the dazed glaze in your eyes becoming hungry once his throbbing cock is freed, hot and heavy in your hand.

Somehow, you manage to switch previous positions--boneless but absolutely determined to return the favour. Your boyfriend's pliant, strong legs shifting further apart as you lean in closer, breath ghosting over the flushed tip of his lengthy dick.

"Now it's your turn."

𓂃⋆.˚

SUGURU GETO٠ ࣪⭑ it’s addictive .ᐟ

Here you are, spread out over your superior’s lap, his thick fingers plunged deep into your gummy walls.

“Sugu,” you breathlessly whine, head reclined against his shoulder as your chest rises and falls with steadily increasing rapidity. "Don't tease." Your hips buck, and thighs would threaten to close around his static hand if it weren't for his other that kept your knees pried open.

"That's part of the fun, though, lovely." Geto's cheek brushes against yours, lips grazing the shell of your ear in a way that's so purposely seductive. He's kept this game up for a while, successfully reducing you to a desperate, mewling mess.

"It's not fun when you're doing nothing." A trace of frustration bleeds into your treble admonishment. That's when you make the mistake of reaching down to cover his hand with your own, attempting to coax him into doing something. Anything.

As if to provoke, he barely scissors his fingers open in your clingy heat, making you gasp, thighs just begging to close against his hand that keeps them pried apart.

"Good girls listen, they don't rush or demand. They take what's given to them." The cult leader murmurs sweetly from behind you as he continues to slowly, agonisingly, stretch you out. "Good girls get rewarded," he dips his head down until his warm breath grazes your ear.

"But bad, disobedient girls--they get nothing." he whispers, as he continues to press the pads of his fingers against your slick entrance - never pushing deeper, never giving the stimulation you're practically keeling over for.

A choked gasp is pulled from your throat when he slips his digits out completely, leaving you cringing at the sudden emptiness.

"Suguru!" you almost want to growl in frustration, chest heaving with desperate, impatient breaths as you all but throw your head back against his shoulder.

Your hands practically fly to your poor, neglected pussy, seeking to do give it the proper attention Geto had been purposely avoiding.

"Not so fast, gorgeous." he swats your hands away just as you barely manage to circle your clit, grabbing both your wrists with one hand, he wrenches them behind you, grabbing the cotton rope you've come to know so well from the side table, tying them behind your back.

"Please!" You hate how pathetic you sound. Suguru revels in it. "I'll be good, I s-swearrr!" A dry sob rips through you. But actions speak louder than words, and right now, you're rubbing your thighs together, seeking any modicum of friction to quell the burning arousal between your legs.

"You can start by keeping still." You can literally hear the smug in his voice, picture the exact curl of his lips he's more than likely sporting at the feeling of your wrist twisting beneath the soft but securely tightened rope.

It takes everything in you to stop your trembling, to stop pressing your thighs so tightly together.

"mhmmm." Suguru hums his approval, the low, resonant sound making you all the wetter. Watching you rigidly spread your legs, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to whatever touch he decides to inflict, makes Geto feel an almost sadistic sense of delight.

"Eyes on me, sweetie." He simpers, free hand coaxing your chin to face him. Only inches apart, he leans in, pressing one, then two--you stopped counting by the third--kisses to your lips. Small, teasing pecks dissolve into lengthy, sultry smooches.

Before you can even catch your breath, he's easing his middle finger in, barely plunging past the entrance. "only one finger and this greedy pussy's already sucking me in," He smirks against your lips, pressing and raising the pad of the single digit in time with your ragged pants.

You don't utter a. Single. Word. Holding back every gasp, every mewl. You're not about to risk breaking the spell of his touch by asking for more--not when he's finally giving you what you want, what you need.

"Oh, look at you," Suguru snickers tauntingly, finger finally breaching that tight ring of resistance. "Trying so hard to keep quiet, huh?" He snorts, making your cheeks burn hotter.

After a few slow pumps of his fingers, he finally slips in another, pace increasing only slightly as he watches your reactions through lidded, amethyst hues.

Your eyes begin to drift closed, back arching just barely off his chest. He uses the moment to his advantage, free hand slipping up from your mid-thigh to firmly pat against your touch-starved clit.

You jolt, eyes flying open as you let out a small yelp of surprise from the sudden stimulation. "Oh--!" The single syllable falls from your lips as you tense, anticipating another hit that's sure to come.

And it does. Multiple, actually.

With each mean tap, your sex only grows slicker, melty walls clenching so deliciously, so sweetly around Geto's thrusting fingers.

"It's like she's trying to pull me in." His breath brushes against your neck as he leans forward to rest his chin on top you shoulder, watching you cunt milk his digits for all their worth.

He's doing it on purpose--he has to be. She? He's referring to your pussy as if it's its own separate identity? fucking weirdo, but, god, if the embarrassing choice words weren't it working.

Wetter, slicker--your cunt is practically squelching as his fingers plunge into you with increasing vigour. They curl up, hitting that spongy spot justtt right.

You're close, devastatingly so.

"Think m'gonna cuuuum," You whine, your arms practically fighting against the ropey restraints as you seek some way to anchor yourself before your impending orgasm wholly devours you.

"Yeah, you do that." Geto breathes out, far more enamoured by how your greedy cavern resists letting his fingers leave each time he pumps them in and out.

His other digits continue circling, tapping, flicking--and whatever he can come up with--your clit, never giving the swollen, over-sensitive nub a second of reprieve.

You wildly jerk forward, hands flattening against his front as your climax hits you like a freight train, coming with a sharp cry of "SUGURU--!"

But his ministrations don't slow, and they don't speed up either. He continues driving you through your peak with the same steady rhythm, the overstimulation making your legs quake around his arms.

"It's not my fault; she just doesn't want me to let go." Geto rasps against your neck, still peering down at the mess he's made of you. Finally, his pleasurably painful assault on your quivering pussy begins to slow.

He gives your sensitive mound one last light slap for good measure before he eases his fingers away from your swollen folds--only to bring them to your lips.

"Suck." The single command is enough to get your lips parting, soft tongue swirling between his middle and ring fingers as he lightly presses them down against the pink muscle.

Your wrists are still tied behind your back, rubbing just a little raw as palms push against the wall of muscle that is his abdomen.

He plants a single, tender kiss on your sweaty temple, slipping his fingers out of your mouth before untying the rope that had bound your wrists together.

"Did so well f'me, sweetheart." He flashes you a lazy grin, looking so satisfied at the way he's left you all boneless and melty in his lap. You flinch when his hands land back onto your thighs, relaxing when all he does is knead the pillowy flesh.

And then it comes.

"Think you can take my cock, too?"

𓂃⋆.˚

SATORU GOJO٠ ࣪⭑ anywhere, everywhere .ᐟ

“Gojo!” You hiss sharply. “Are you crazy?”

“Ah, ok, so it’s Gojo now.” Satoru teases, already hiking your skirt up your thighs, sinking to his knees. “Y’know, I think I like it more when you call me ‘toru.” He smiles coyly, the words spoken so sultrily that it makes your cheeks heat.

"I. Don't. Care." You whisper-yell, even as your fiancé dips his head between your thighs. "We're supposed to be in a meeting--!" Your voice pitches to an embarrassing squeak at the word. All he does is snicker, pearly whites splitting his grin as he looks up at you.

"So? They can wait." He says with absolutely no sense of urgency. "Plus, you're just too sweet to resist, especially when you look at me like that." and by 'that', he means the way you're scowling down at him.

He's insatiable, really. Annoying too. Making you pretend you needed to take an important call before following you out of the room a minute later to--by his own words: 'see if you were okay'.

"What if someone comes to check up on us?" You urge him to see reason, even as you spread your legs further.

Admittedly, it's not entirely comfortable to be half-leaning against a hardwood desk in an empty classroom, but the awkwardness of your position is soon forgotten as he licks a languid stripe over the front of your panties.

"Then they better enjoy the view." He shrugs easily, licking another stripe before his index comes up to press your slit through the material. You know he's only joking, but there's still a sense of unease warring with the steadily growing arousal as he keeps teasing.

"Well--make it quick then." You sputter, heat pooling in your gut as you feel yourself growing slick under his dextrous touches.

"Of course, sweetie." He coos, voice dripping with feigned saccharinity, warm breath ghosting over the clothed slope of your pussy before digits dig into the waistband, pulling it of and letting the garment drop to your feet.

You gasp when his fingers spread your puffy folds apart, eyeing your twitching hole with an intensity that makes your face burn all the more.

You hate to admit it, now more than ever, but he's a vision. Tousled white hair pushed back by his blindfold, stray snowy strands escaping the makeshift headband, framing his features in a way that's so unfair.

Flashing you one last toothy grin, Satoru surges forward, tongue immediately flicking over your exposed clit.

He lets out a breathless laugh when your hips buck from the contact, mindlessly seeking more of that heavenly sensation from the assault on your sensitive nub.

"easyyy," He chides smoothly, vocal vibrations against your quivering sex making you gasp. His forearms dig deeper into your thighs to stop your skittish squirming while his fingers continue holding your lips apart.

"ngh, S-Satoru --!" Your hands fly to the back of his head, caught between pulling him closer or pushing him away as his tongue continues lavishing your jutting bundle of nerves with boldly growing licks and swirls.

Aww, that’s what it took to be back on first name basis with your fiancé? Cute.

Spurred on by your airy sighs and sharp breaths, he flattens his tongue, licking a up a long strip before sucking your swollen peak into his mouth, lashes batting as he looks up at you.

You can't get too loud--knowing how thin these damn walls are, you'd better hold back or someone really is going to 'enjoy the view' after walking in on you both.

But the pressure of his pursed lips suckling is almost too much to bear.

Mouth hanging open, head lolling back as you hike one of your twitchy thighs even higher up, your hips roll senselessly up against his handsome face, grinding your sloppy pussy harder against those sculpted features.

"F-Fuck-" You tremble, fingers tugging at his ivory strands even tighter, making him moan lowly against your bared, weeping cunt. Another shudder ripples through you as your peak approaches, and you bite back something louder.

You come with a stifled mewl, legs shaking, one hand jerking back to steady yourself against the desk. Back arching, keeling forward, you let out a plethora of shaky gasps and pants.

Satoru releases your thoroughly suctioned clit with a pop, pulling back, plush lips gleaming with the gloss of your arousal. “Fast enough?” He asks, voice a little raw from disuse. He’s looking far too smug, too proud, by the fact that he made you come so quickly.

Before you can retort, he pulls back completely, still on his knees with his neck craned back to watch your stuttered reactions before azure irises flit down again. Your mouth opens as if to bite back, but soon snaps shut when he lets out another breathy chuckle.

“You’re twitching.” His blown-out gaze jumps back to your headed cunt, the way your fluttering whole clenches around nothing. Six eyes or not, you really can’t hide anything from him. God, he could probably feel your heartbeat thrumming beneath the flesh.

With fingers still holding your pussy-lips apart, his middle finger trails down to skim along your slit before dipping inside. Your back lurches forward, head dropping down as he wastes no time pressing against that spot—the one that makes stars explode behind your tightly closed lids.

“Such a sweet little pussy,” Satoru murmurs, entirely enthralled. “Squeezing me so tight.” He purrs teasingly, meeting yours briefly before they flutter shut as he goes in for another taste.

His finger eases in and out of you, massaging your gummy walls so sensually you feel like you might explode. It’s soon followed by another before his tongue lolls out to work over your swollen peak once more.

Suddenly, he switches the positions, tongue prodding at your cinched entrance while his thumb feverishly circles your clit. “Taste fuckin’ heavenly,” his voice is muffled as his tongue continues to push deeper inside, prodding in and out with quickened strokes.

One hand hooks beneath your knee, coaxing it to rest over his shoulder as he shuffles closer to you.

The attendees had to be getting suspicious by now, when you're so lost in the sensation of your soon-to-be-husband's mouth, you can't seem to muster any regret.

“Please, ‘toru,” you breathe, head falling forward as he continues to delve his tongue deep inside your silken cavern. “I need to—ngh, oh—!” Your quiet, hushed moans making his lips curl into a smirk, still pressed into your sobbing folds.

“Oh yeahhh? You need it?”

You hate him so bad.

His fingers slip down from your clit to press into your melty core while his lips mash against every inch of your perfect, puffy pussy. And you’re falling apart on his tongue for the second time in what had to have been only ten minutes.

Legs shaking doubly as wildly as before, you let out a choked cry—one that’d no doubt be heard from when all attendees were waiting for your return. “Too m-much!” You squeal as he drives you through sensory overload.

You have to literally wrench his head away just to get him to stop eating. There’s a pussy-drunk grin curling his lips as you struggle to focus on him through the hazy fog of overstimulation.

You’re just about coming down from your high, his long, slick fingers dragon-clawing the meat of your thighs. He finally moves to stand, but the moment he’s extended back to his full height, he’s pushing you back up against the desk with his front, arms braced on either side of you as he leans in closer.

“I sure they won’t mind if we take a few more minutes.”

a/n: running on two hours of sleep and too tired to proofread. Toji, Sukuna and Nanami next. hopefully.

[cookiieduh]

Just like candy .ᐟ

.Can you really blame him? You’re just too sweet—it’s not his fault he can’t get enough!

.pairings.ᐟ choso x reader, geto x reader, gojo x reader.

.cont.ᐟ MDNI, fem!reader, cunnilingus (duh), JJK men get pussy-drunkkk, fingering, edging, praise, dirty talk, pet names, light dacryphillia, overstimulation, hint of dumbification, not proof-read, porn with litch no plot, light bondage perhaps, dom and sub dynamic (geto),

.extra.ᐟ whew… jumping straight into it lol. part two with the other JJK men. soon.

CHOSO KAMO٠ ࣪⭑ hold on tight .ᐟ

“Mmph, babyyy,” Choso mumbles deliriously against your cunt, the vibrations of his husky, almost whiny, voice against the sensitive flesh making you bite back a squeal. 

He has you sprawled out across the mattress, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs as he holds them apart, preventing them from quivering shut in attempts to quell the onslaught of his crazed tongue.

“C-Cho, s’too much!” you choke out, head barely raising before immediately falling back, as if there was a magnetic pull between your cranium and the pillow. You writhe under the press of his upper body, legs shaking beneath his palms because he just doesn’t. Let. Up.

“C’mon, baby. Please, jus’ a little more,” He pulls back for a second, blown out eyes meeting your glossy ones as his warm breath puffs over your abused sex.

Maintaining eye-contact, Choso’s tongue lolls out once more, just barely grazing your clit. 

Light taps and swirls until the little kitten-licks grow bolder, flicking between that sensitive bundle of nerves to those puffy folds. His fingers continue to press into your thighs, kneading the muscle as he continues the assault.

He’s been going for so long, is his jaw not aching?

Well, it is. But, hey, any ache is worth seeing you melt into a puddle right before his eyes.

“Ngh—oh, fuuuck!” Your chest heaves with dry sobs, boobs bouncing hypnotically as you twitch. You can feel your boyfriend smile against your sore pussy before licking another stripe up the swollen folds.

Choso laps and laves at your cunt like a man possessed, never giving you even a second of reprieve. Honestly, you’re not sure how much more you can give him.

One of your hands slides up to squeeze your breasts as your back lurches off the bed, the other flying to thread through your lover's messy, black tresses.

“You’re so, mmh, squirmy,” you can hear the smirk in his voice as he moans lowly against your slit, giving it one last messy kiss before he pulling away to take in the view you’re presenting him with: Hair beyond mussed by your endless thrashing against the pillows, shirt ridden up to the base of your throat, red marks blooming on the plush of your tits after grabbing them so tightly.

What a beautiful mess.

Chin glistening, Choso grins as you, utterly whipped and entirely pussy-drunk. “Think you can give me oneee more, baby?” He rasps, head dipping down to rest against your stomach. He plants kisses just above your navel, and you think that this might be your chance to catch a break.

Much to your dismay, you thought wrong.

Choso continues to trail kisses across the soft skin of your tummy, grip loosening around your thighs, only to trail further up. Another desperate mewl is pulled from your throat as his index finger meanly skims circles around your clit, avoiding giving the nub any direct attention.

You want to cry.

“You s-said, jus’ a lil’ more,” you whine, tears gathering at the edge of your lashes after throwing your head back for the nth time this evening.

The only response you get is an amused snort. His fingers continue to evade the place you need them most, purposely, torturously.

“Looking so pretty when you’re all messy f’me.” He murmurs adoringly, wholly ignoring your rebuke that rings hollow to even your ears.

Choso watches your body jerk with a mix of fascination and fascination, observing the way you buck your hips, seeking something more than the way he barely dips his fingers in and out of your slick entrance.

It’s the sweetest torture once he finally slips the digits inside your silky cavern, curling them so suddenly, so forcefully, that it makes you see stars behind your tightly shut lids. “Oh, there she is.” Choso simpers lazily as he pumps his middle and ring fingers in and out, grazing that spongey spot inside just right, sending you pummelling towards another earth-shattering orgasm.

Tears are trailing glistening paths down your flushed cheeks as your calves lock around his shoulders, thighs spasming, pussy clenching, as you cum for the who-knows-how-many-eth time tonight.

Finally, after leaving you thoroughly fucked-out by his fingers, he slowly eases them out. You feel sore all over, and the sudden emptiness makes you cringe. You raise your head just slightly to look down as Choso, the satisfied, hazy smile he sports as he stares down at your ruined pussy. Your cheeks burn.

His eyes flit up to meet yours as he rises to his knees. “Gorgeous,” he breathes, leaning down to press a kiss against the drying tears on your cheeks.

“You’re perfect, sweetheart. So perfect.” He litters another few pecks against your jaw before capturing your lips with his own. You taste yourself on his tongue as it breaches the seam of your mouth, making your breath hitch in your throat.

He pulls back, your gaze drifts down.

“Cho-” you begin, eyes zeroing in on the stiff bulge tenting his grey sweats, a small, damp patch where he’d felt his own dribble of bliss from lapping at your syrupy folds. It was as if he enjoyed giving you head more than you enjoyed receiving it. “Do you want to—?”

“Don’t worry about it,” He cuts you off with another smooch, attempting to quell your concern and growing sense of guilt before rising.

You’re still pouting when he looks down at you, eyes lidded so sultrily.

"Baby, I'm serious. Don't worry--hahh--!" he cuts himself off with a breathy sigh as you reach for him, palm pressing against the thick outline of his rigid length.

All soreness in your body is immediately forgotten by his airy response. Now you're tugging down the waistband of his pants, the dazed glaze in your eyes becoming hungry once his throbbing cock is freed, hot and heavy in your hand.

Somehow, you manage to switch previous positions--boneless but absolutely determined to return the favour. Your boyfriend's pliant, strong legs shifting further apart as you lean in closer, breath ghosting over the flushed tip of his lengthy dick.

"Now it's your turn."

𓂃⋆.˚

SUGURU GETO٠ ࣪⭑ it’s addictive .ᐟ

Here you are, spread out over your superior’s lap, his thick fingers plunged deep into your gummy walls.

“Sugu,” you breathlessly whine, head reclined against his shoulder as your chest rises and falls with steadily increasing rapidity. "Don't tease." Your hips buck, and thighs would threaten to close around his static hand if it weren't for his other that kept your knees pried open.

"That's part of the fun, though, lovely." Geto's cheek brushes against yours, lips grazing the shell of your ear in a way that's so purposely seductive. He's kept this game up for a while, successfully reducing you to a desperate, mewling mess.

"It's not fun when you're doing nothing." A trace of frustration bleeds into your treble admonishment. That's when you make the mistake of reaching down to cover his hand with your own, attempting to coax him into doing something. Anything.

As if to provoke, he barely scissors his fingers open in your clingy heat, making you gasp, thighs just begging to close against his hand that keeps them pried apart.

"Good girls listen, they don't rush or demand. They take what's given to them." The cult leader murmurs sweetly from behind you as he continues to slowly, agonisingly, stretch you out. "Good girls get rewarded," he dips his head down until his warm breath grazes your ear.

"But bad, disobedient girls--they get nothing." he whispers, as he continues to press the pads of his fingers against your slick entrance - never pushing deeper, never giving the stimulation you're practically keeling over for.

A choked gasp is pulled from your throat when he slips his digits out completely, leaving you cringing at the sudden emptiness.

"Suguru!" you almost want to growl in frustration, chest heaving with desperate, impatient breaths as you all but throw your head back against his shoulder.

Your hands practically fly to your poor, neglected pussy, seeking to do give it the proper attention Geto had been purposely avoiding.

"Not so fast, gorgeous." he swats your hands away just as you barely manage to circle your clit, grabbing both your wrists with one hand, he wrenches them behind you, grabbing the cotton rope you've come to know so well from the side table, tying them behind your back.

"Please!" You hate how pathetic you sound. Suguru revels in it. "I'll be good, I s-swearrr!" A dry sob rips through you. But actions speak louder than words, and right now, you're rubbing your thighs together, seeking any modicum of friction to quell the burning arousal between your legs.

"You can start by keeping still." You can literally hear the smug in his voice, picture the exact curl of his lips he's more than likely sporting at the feeling of your wrist twisting beneath the soft but securely tightened rope.

It takes everything in you to stop your trembling, to stop pressing your thighs so tightly together.

"mhmmm." Suguru hums his approval, the low, resonant sound making you all the wetter. Watching you rigidly spread your legs, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to whatever touch he decides to inflict, makes Geto feel an almost sadistic sense of delight.

"Eyes on me, sweetie." He simpers, free hand coaxing your chin to face him. Only inches apart, he leans in, pressing one, then two--you stopped counting by the third--kisses to your lips. Small, teasing pecks dissolve into lengthy, sultry smooches.

Before you can even catch your breath, he's easing his middle finger in, barely plunging past the entrance. "only one finger and this greedy pussy's already sucking me in," He smirks against your lips, pressing and raising the pad of the single digit in time with your ragged pants.

You don't utter a. Single. Word. Holding back every gasp, every mewl. You're not about to risk breaking the spell of his touch by asking for more--not when he's finally giving you what you want, what you need.

"Oh, look at you," Suguru snickers tauntingly, finger finally breaching that tight ring of resistance. "Trying so hard to keep quiet, huh?" He snorts, making your cheeks burn hotter.

After a few slow pumps of his fingers, he finally slips in another, pace increasing only slightly as he watches your reactions through lidded, amethyst hues.

Your eyes begin to drift closed, back arching just barely off his chest. He uses the moment to his advantage, free hand slipping up from your mid-thigh to firmly pat against your touch-starved clit.

You jolt, eyes flying open as you let out a small yelp of surprise from the sudden stimulation. "Oh--!" The single syllable falls from your lips as you tense, anticipating another hit that's sure to come.

And it does. Multiple, actually.

With each mean tap, your sex only grows slicker, melty walls clenching so deliciously, so sweetly around Geto's thrusting fingers.

"It's like she's trying to pull me in." His breath brushes against your neck as he leans forward to rest his chin on top you shoulder, watching you cunt milk his digits for all their worth.

He's doing it on purpose--he has to be. She? He's referring to your pussy as if it's its own separate identity? fucking weirdo, but, god, if the embarrassing choice words weren't it working.

Wetter, slicker--your cunt is practically squelching as his fingers plunge into you with increasing vigour. They curl up, hitting that spongy spot justtt right.

You're close, devastatingly so.

"Think m'gonna cuuuum," You whine, your arms practically fighting against the ropey restraints as you seek some way to anchor yourself before your impending orgasm wholly devours you.

"Yeah, you do that." Geto breathes out, far more enamoured by how your greedy cavern resists letting his fingers leave each time he pumps them in and out.

His other digits continue circling, tapping, flicking--and whatever he can come up with--your clit, never giving the swollen, over-sensitive nub a second of reprieve.

You wildly jerk forward, hands flattening against his front as your climax hits you like a freight train, coming with a sharp cry of "SUGURU--!"

But his ministrations don't slow, and they don't speed up either. He continues driving you through your peak with the same steady rhythm, the overstimulation making your legs quake around his arms.

"It's not my fault; she just doesn't want me to let go." Geto rasps against your neck, still peering down at the mess he's made of you. Finally, his pleasurably painful assault on your quivering pussy begins to slow.

He gives your sensitive mound one last light slap for good measure before he eases his fingers away from your swollen folds--only to bring them to your lips.

"Suck." The single command is enough to get your lips parting, soft tongue swirling between his middle and ring fingers as he lightly presses them down against the pink muscle.

Your wrists are still tied behind your back, rubbing just a little raw as palms push against the wall of muscle that is his abdomen.

He plants a single, tender kiss on your sweaty temple, slipping his fingers out of your mouth before untying the rope that had bound your wrists together.

"Did so well f'me, sweetheart." He flashes you a lazy grin, looking so satisfied at the way he's left you all boneless and melty in his lap. You flinch when his hands land back onto your thighs, relaxing when all he does is knead the pillowy flesh.

And then it comes.

"Think you can take my cock, too?"

𓂃⋆.˚

SATORU GOJO٠ ࣪⭑ anywhere, everywhere .ᐟ

“Gojo!” You hiss sharply. “Are you crazy?”

“Ah, ok, so it’s Gojo now.” Satoru teases, already hiking your skirt up your thighs, sinking to his knees. “Y’know, I think I like it more when you call me ‘toru.” He smiles coyly, the words spoken so sultrily that it makes your cheeks heat.

"I. Don't. Care." You whisper-yell, even as your fiancé dips his head between your thighs. "We're supposed to be in a meeting--!" Your voice pitches to an embarrassing squeak at the word. All he does is snicker, pearly whites splitting his grin as he looks up at you.

"So? They can wait." He says with absolutely no sense of urgency. "Plus, you're just too sweet to resist, especially when you look at me like that." and by 'that', he means the way you're scowling down at him.

He's insatiable, really. Annoying too. Making you pretend you needed to take an important call before following you out of the room a minute later to--by his own words: 'see if you were okay'.

"What if someone comes to check up on us?" You urge him to see reason, even as you spread your legs further.

Admittedly, it's not entirely comfortable to be half-leaning against a hardwood desk in an empty classroom, but the awkwardness of your position is soon forgotten as he licks a languid stripe over the front of your panties.

"Then they better enjoy the view." He shrugs easily, licking another stripe before his index comes up to press your slit through the material. You know he's only joking, but there's still a sense of unease warring with the steadily growing arousal as he keeps teasing.

"Well--make it quick then." You sputter, heat pooling in your gut as you feel yourself growing slick under his dextrous touches.

"Of course, sweetie." He coos, voice dripping with feigned saccharinity, warm breath ghosting over the clothed slope of your pussy before digits dig into the waistband, pulling it of and letting the garment drop to your feet.

You gasp when his fingers spread your puffy folds apart, eyeing your twitching hole with an intensity that makes your face burn all the more.

You hate to admit it, now more than ever, but he's a vision. Tousled white hair pushed back by his blindfold, stray snowy strands escaping the makeshift headband, framing his features in a way that's so unfair.

Flashing you one last toothy grin, Satoru surges forward, tongue immediately flicking over your exposed clit.

He lets out a breathless laugh when your hips buck from the contact, mindlessly seeking more of that heavenly sensation from the assault on your sensitive nub.

"easyyy," He chides smoothly, vocal vibrations against your quivering sex making you gasp. His forearms dig deeper into your thighs to stop your skittish squirming while his fingers continue holding your lips apart.

"ngh, S-Satoru --!" Your hands fly to the back of his head, caught between pulling him closer or pushing him away as his tongue continues lavishing your jutting bundle of nerves with boldly growing licks and swirls.

Aww, that’s what it took to be back on first name basis with your fiancé? Cute.

Spurred on by your airy sighs and sharp breaths, he flattens his tongue, licking a up a long strip before sucking your swollen peak into his mouth, lashes batting as he looks up at you.

You can't get too loud--knowing how thin these damn walls are, you'd better hold back or someone really is going to 'enjoy the view' after walking in on you both.

But the pressure of his pursed lips suckling is almost too much to bear.

Mouth hanging open, head lolling back as you hike one of your twitchy thighs even higher up, your hips roll senselessly up against his handsome face, grinding your sloppy pussy harder against those sculpted features.

"F-Fuck-" You tremble, fingers tugging at his ivory strands even tighter, making him moan lowly against your bared, weeping cunt. Another shudder ripples through you as your peak approaches, and you bite back something louder.

You come with a stifled mewl, legs shaking, one hand jerking back to steady yourself against the desk. Back arching, keeling forward, you let out a plethora of shaky gasps and pants.

Satoru releases your thoroughly suctioned clit with a pop, pulling back, plush lips gleaming with the gloss of your arousal. “Fast enough?” He asks, voice a little raw from disuse. He’s looking far too smug, too proud, by the fact that he made you come so quickly.

Before you can retort, he pulls back completely, still on his knees with his neck craned back to watch your stuttered reactions before azure irises flit down again. Your mouth opens as if to bite back, but soon snaps shut when he lets out another breathy chuckle.

“You’re twitching.” His blown-out gaze jumps back to your headed cunt, the way your fluttering whole clenches around nothing. Six eyes or not, you really can’t hide anything from him. God, he could probably feel your heartbeat thrumming beneath the flesh.

With fingers still holding your pussy-lips apart, his middle finger trails down to skim along your slit before dipping inside. Your back lurches forward, head dropping down as he wastes no time pressing against that spot—the one that makes stars explode behind your tightly closed lids.

“Such a sweet little pussy,” Satoru murmurs, entirely enthralled. “Squeezing me so tight.” He purrs teasingly, meeting yours briefly before they flutter shut as he goes in for another taste.

His finger eases in and out of you, massaging your gummy walls so sensually you feel like you might explode. It’s soon followed by another before his tongue lolls out to work over your swollen peak once more.

Suddenly, he switches the positions, tongue prodding at your cinched entrance while his thumb feverishly circles your clit. “Taste fuckin’ heavenly,” his voice is muffled as his tongue continues to push deeper inside, prodding in and out with quickened strokes.

One hand hooks beneath your knee, coaxing it to rest over his shoulder as he shuffles closer to you.

The attendees had to be getting suspicious by now, when you're so lost in the sensation of your soon-to-be-husband's mouth, you can't seem to muster any regret.

“Please, ‘toru,” you breathe, head falling forward as he continues to delve his tongue deep inside your silken cavern. “I need to—ngh, oh—!” Your quiet, hushed moans making his lips curl into a smirk, still pressed into your sobbing folds.

“Oh yeahhh? You need it?”

You hate him so bad.

His fingers slip down from your clit to press into your melty core while his lips mash against every inch of your perfect, puffy pussy. And you’re falling apart on his tongue for the second time in what had to have been only ten minutes.

Legs shaking doubly as wildly as before, you let out a choked cry—one that’d no doubt be heard from when all attendees were waiting for your return. “Too m-much!” You squeal as he drives you through sensory overload.

You have to literally wrench his head away just to get him to stop eating. There’s a pussy-drunk grin curling his lips as you struggle to focus on him through the hazy fog of overstimulation.

You’re just about coming down from your high, his long, slick fingers dragon-clawing the meat of your thighs. He finally moves to stand, but the moment he’s extended back to his full height, he’s pushing you back up against the desk with his front, arms braced on either side of you as he leans in closer.

“I sure they won’t mind if we take a few more minutes.”

a/n: running on two hours of sleep and too tired to proofread. Toji, Sukuna and Nanami next. hopefully.

[cookiieduh]

ʙᴏʏꜰɪᴇ!ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ༉ 𝓒𝓦: ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ʜᴇ’ꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴀɴɴᴏʏɪɴɢ, ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴍᴇᴀɴ ʙꜰ ᴀʟᴇʀᴛ, 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ᴀ ʜɪɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴀ���ʀʏᴘʜɪʟɪᴀ ᴘᴇʀʜᴀᴘꜱ.

BF.ᐟsatoru who always finds a way to tease you, even if it's just a little. Seemingly subtle, inconspicuous little comments about how your hair’s a mess or how the clothes you chose to wear that day don’t match, always spoken so smoothly you barely notice. Seconds pass, you realise what he’s said, and by the time you’re snapping your head up to glare, he’s already smirking.

BF.ᐟsatoru who intentionally acts dumb whenever you try to confront him, to get under you’re skin at the very least. The leftovers you were saving? What leftovers? He swears he doesn’t know what you’re talking about, and he’ll gaslight you into thinking you’re crazy. Over the stupidest shit, too. Who left the TV remote where, if the toothpaste is actually finished, if it's Tuesday or Wednesday... He takes great delight in making you feel like you're losing it.

BF.ᐟsatoru who locks in when watching movies and psychoanalyses them to the point of exhaustion straight after. Want to ask him something while the film is playing? Fat chance. He’ll nod subtly with his eyes glued to the screen, barely pretending to listen—but as soon as the credits roll, he’ll turn to you and begin with a “so…” marking the start of whatever pseudo-analytical torture your boyfriend is about to subject you to.

BF.ᐟsatoru whose favourite pastime is scaring you half to death. Trust that he’s going to abuse his teleportation technique to get a quick laugh from how badly it makes you jump. You’re convinced his antics are going to drive you straight into a coffin far quicker than any high-calibre mission you’d ever faced.

BF.ᐟsatoru who swears he doesn't get jealous or possessive when he catches people staring, but will pull out the classic 'waist-grab' move to guide you away from shameless ogling and prying eyes while glaring back at whoever was leering. It's rinse and repeat whenever he notices you're getting a little too much attention for his liking.

BF.ᐟsatoru who secretly adores the quiet moments when you don't realise he's looking. He uses the chance to take everything in; the way you pout slightly when scrolling on your phone, the way you sway your hips and bounce your shoulders when you've got your headphones on. Lord knows he's memorising every detail, storing it deep inside his heart, where he'll keep it there forever.

BF.ᐟsatoru who loves overstimulating you to the point of tears, drilling you into the mattress with no tap-outs, no reprieve. He'd change his rhythm each time you were about to come, going from hard and fast thrusts to slow and deep strokes. When he finally lets you reach the pinnacle of pleasure, the relief you feel is short-lived when you realise it's far from over. Satoru's relentless, plunging in and out of your velvet heat, taking a special kind of joy in the way your mouth hangs open when the sensations become too much.

BF.ᐟsatoru who presses kisses against each droplet that rolls down your cheeks, hushing you with patronising coos of, "isn't this what you, hah, wanted baby? you were just begging me to let you come, and now you're giving out on me?" he'd pout down at you, arms braced around your head while fighting to keep his composure as he taunts you. "C'mon, sweetheart. I know you can be a big girl and give me just one more."