cookiiehuh

[cookiiehuh]

.જ⁀➴ ♡ ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ ᴄᴏᴀᴛᴇᴅ.ᐟ⭑.ᐟ

ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ! ᴀ ʜᴏᴛ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ᴍᴏᴅ? ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ. ᴡᴇʟʟ… ᴅᴜʜ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ. ᴀ ᴡᴇɪʀᴅᴏ ᴅᴀᴍɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ɢʀᴀꜱꜱ. ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ꜰᴜᴄᴋꜱ ᴍᴇᴀɴ!

.pairing.ᐟ ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ .cont.ᐟ MDNI, ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ᴍᴏᴅ x ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴅʏɴᴀᴍɪᴄ (ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ‘ᴍᴇᴏᴡꜱ’), ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜱᴘᴀɴᴋɪɴɢ, ᴄᴀᴛ ᴇᴀʀꜱ, ᴇɢɪʀʟ ꜱʜᴇɴᴀɴɪɢᴀɴꜱ, ᴇᴛᴄ… ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴅᴜᴍʙɪꜰɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ʜʏᴘᴇʀ-ꜰᴇᴍɪɴɪɴᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴘᴏʀɴ ɴᴏ ᴘʟᴏᴛ, ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ, ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ, ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ ᴄʀɪɴɢᴇ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ‘ᴋɪᴛᴛʏ’, ‘ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ’ ᴇᴛᴄ, ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ, ᴏᴠᴇʀꜱᴛɪᴍ, ꜰʀᴇᴀᴋᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ʟᴏᴡᴋ .extra.ᐟ ᴡᴄ,, 2.8ᴋ,, ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!

“oh, kitten,” gojo attempts to cajole with a desperation that borders pathetic, batting long white lashes at the webcam as you sit in pretty pixels across his screen.

“puh-leaseeee!”

and he’s been at this for half an hour, begging you to let him fly you out to japan.

“it’s beautiful this time of year, ‘nd i bet you’d look great in a kimono!” he just keeps going on and on, relentlessly begging and deliriously chatting your ear off with crazed ramblings of how he’s going to treat you like the goddess you are the moment you step off that plane.

it’s not like you think he’s making empty promises. you don’t doubt that he has money, not for a second. after all, you’ve managed to wind him so tightly around your finger that he pretty much funds everything for you. college tuition, spa days, shopping trips, and nitro.

especially nitro.

and up until this point, all you’ve had to do was sweet talk him, send a couple suggestive pics, and much to your shame, meow for him. but who cares? it’s a moment of embarrassment for a much lengthier time of luxury.

well, it’s too bad it’s finally catching up to you. now this clingy, needy, discord mod is begging you to come see him.

“but, toruuu.” you’re inwardly cringing at how sugared your voice is, even more so at the demure pout you’re impelling as you look straight into the camera. “it’s sooo far.” and while the sound of your forced, cloyingly sweet voice makes you want to barf, he’s eating it up like the sound alone is candied ambrosia.

“c’mon, kitty.” he’s persistent. you’ve got to give him that.

“it’ll be all expenses paid! i just want to see youuuuu!” and it’s almost jarring to see an attractive, wealthy man, only a handful of years older than you, begging this childishly for a girl he’s only ever seen on his screen to travel overseas and meet him. 

hesitating, weighing out the options in your head before finally conceding with a reluctant sigh of: “send me six hundred to get my hair and nails done.”

you knew you were fucked when you got a notification from cashapp saying six thousand instead.

-

and truly fucked you were, because who would’ve thought that the guy quite literally paying you to meow for him would be a freak?

…

you.

you did.

and maybe you should have trusted your gut instinct because now you’re halfway across the world, bent over your discord daddy’s lap, pretty pink miniskirt hiked up and flipped over to give his palm better access to land mean smack!’s against your steadily flushing rear. 

“ugh, kitty, you are just too cute when you cry like that.” you’re mistaken to think that he would maybe give you even just a second of reprieve from the relentless assault of his hand, but no, he slaps an even harder swat over your poor, pillowy ass.

this has to be what, the tenth—? twelfth—smack? honestly, you’ve lost count. overwhelming humiliation from the sadistic spanking aside, you don’t even want to think about the matching paw print thigh-highs and cat ears he insisted you wear while he gives you this ‘special’ treatment.

“b-but, it h-hurrrrrts—!” you’re whining in earnest now, fingers curling into the fabric of the surprisingly silken sheets as he giggles. giggles. a small, awfully boyish laugh that should have nothing, yet has everything to do with your predicament.

but really, the pain is the last thing on your mind when you’re feeling a heat twist in your gut that has nothing to do with the burn of the slaps that crack against your reddening cheeks. the kind of fervour you’re praying he doesn’t notice slickening your panties, because god knows he’d be remorseless.

“aww, it h-hurts?” he mimics the stutter you didn’t even realise you had with a snicker, rubbing salt into your wounded ego and fractured dignity while you discreetly squeeze your thighs together. “come on, cupcake, you can count five more, rightttt?” firm hands press into your cheeks before spreading them apart, letting the seam of your panties dig further against your core.

“five!?” you all but squawk, squirming atop his lap as he continues kneading your ass like he’s a cat with a bakery to run. he’s infatuated with it, with the way you react when he squeezes and slaps, the way you try and fail to mask the gasps and whimpers as he plays with you.

“mhm, fiiiive moreee.” satoru drags out the words. mocking. teasing. aggravating.

he continues spreading and groping like a man possessed, leaving you simmering in anticipation for torment promised to come. it actually makes you flinch when he abruptly stops, letting the pads of his fingers keep you pinned. you run cold when you hear the sudden, sharp crash of his laughter.

“oh, no.” he breathily chuckles before smearing you so far apart you feel the cool air of the room blow over your clothed pussy. 

“is my little kitty getting wet from being slapped?” and you hate the stupid smirk in his stupid voice. hate the way your stupid back arches out of stupid impulse. 

“s’toru-” you’re practically mewling, head dropping forward into the crook of your elbow as he shamelessly toys with you, dragging a finger up the puffy, sodden slit your panties cling to, probably sporting the biggest grin you can barely begin to imagine.

“didn’t know you were slutty for a little pain.” gojo’s voice drops to a coy murmur, feigning surprise at the more than expected reaction. 

“m’not.” you whine the blatant denial against your forearm as he hooks a finger beneath the cotton of your thong and tugs the flimsy fabric aside, popping a long finger in your cunt so suddenly it makes you choke on a gasp. he groans as if it’s in his ass, biting his lip when he feels you squeeze around him.

“uh-huh, sureee.” he begins to move, pumping in and out with an increasing vigor while you squirm and arch. the type of finger-fucking that’s so mind-melting you barely notice when he slips a second. then a third. stretching you out beyond belief to the point where you aren’t sure your lungs can catch up.

he bumps you up on his knee as his digits mash your insides, slipping his free hand under your front in the fraction of a second to catch your clit with his thumb, jolting incessantly frenzied rings around the puckered nub, making you tremble.

“j-just like—FUUUCK—!” you’re crying out, jerking up in tandem with the thrusts of his fingers. he snickers again. it barely registers. not when he’s found that rigid patch of nerves in your gummy walls, making you muffle a scream into your arm. 

“be a good girl ’n say ‘thank you, daddy!’”

if you weren’t so flustered, you’d probably scoff at the command, brush it off and refuse to call him that. but when his digits are jostling in and out while he’s teasing something along the lines of “you’re gushing around me, sweets.”, you don’t question it.

ass raising, hips bucking. you’re flushed and breathless by the time your orgasm comes crashing down on you. an embarrassingly wanton moan is torn from your throat as your thighs begin to quake, feeble little whimpers of “mph, daddy—! thu-thank you!!” snuffed against the bedsheets you’re clinging so desperately to.

“ah, fuck. so. tight.” satoru punctuates the words with a flick against your clit, making you yelp and try to uselessly scramble off his thighs. “not so fast.” he pulls his fingers out before flipping you over on his lap, your lower back hitting his knees with a painless thud.

“you don’t get to run from it. not when we’ve barely started, kitty.” he’s smiling down at you. wolfish. and whether flying out was a mistake or not, you know for certain you’re not going to make it out alive.

you’re still breathless, skin scorched beneath your baggy, blush sweater. so he pushes it up, palm splaying over the soft of your stomach while the other keeps your shaky thighs wedged apart. staring up at that handsome face almost makes you forget how… unconventional he is. like he can get away with calling you his ‘perfect kitten’ with just a bat of his lashes.

“such a pretty girl.” he’s lilting lightly, like he isn’t tugging the lacey cups of your bra down to free your darling tits. “with a body made to be worshipped.” lidded baby blues flitting between your parted lips and perky nipples. greedy and indecisive.

“toru—!”

he pinches the hardened buds until you correct yourself with a squeak.

“daddy—i mean daddy!”

he only hums, continuing to tweak them while you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, gaze hazy and a little unfocused as his free hand simultaneously, hypnotically, rubs your pussy.

“don’t be rough. please?” you blink up at him, cheeks still stinging with the persistent buzz from the earlier spanking. you’d think he was only half paying attention with the way he fondles your breasts so adamantly, but the way a new grin, all teeth and tease, splits his lips… it tells you he’s already got something in mind.

“well,” he begins with a simper, fingers unremittingly digging into the supple plush of your chest as he feigns consideration. “i won’t have the chance to if we do it at your pace.” and then he stops. letting go of you one second, manhandling you to straddle him the next.

“how about you take me for a ride, cupcake?” god forbid you were beginning to find his oddity endearing. let alone sexy.

but still, the conflict between your rational mind and everything else doesn’t distract you from the flutter you feel in your gut when he holds you so flush against him. cheesing up at you with hands encircling your hips and an erection pressed against the seam of your cunt, satoru waits for your next movement which comes in a dither little grind that makes him want to coo at how cute you are.

you’re dizzy already, earlier stimulation and rising nerves making your head swim just a little more than usual. 

“oh, don’t tell me you’re tapping out before we’ve even started…” he knows he’s provoking you if that smirk is anything to go by. so instead of letting him continue nettling you, you plant both palms on his shoulders and begin to rock against him with a purpose that makes you both draw in a sharp breath.

his curled lips part as if he’s planning to goad but you’re quicker. lunging forward, mouth snagging against his in a messy kiss that knocks the wind from his lungs. arrogance melts off as he pulls you tighter, clothed bulge bucking into your deliberate swivels while you smother his little gasps and piffling groans.

a muffled “mph—she’s eager.” and you can’t help but admire his terribly annoying talent of having an answer for everything. even when you’re on top, making him breathe funny and stifle curses.

you’re taking charge, and it might be because he’s beneath you, or maybe he’s just letting you... no. he’s definitely letting you. the way he’s hauled and handled you like you’re weightless and the smile against your lips is enough confirmation to realise he’s holding back.

tongues twist, seconds blur, and your clothes are strewn carelessly across the lavish floor of his room.

one hand braced on satoru’s shoulder, the other planted on his thigh as you ease down on his length. leaky dip barely prodding past your honeyed entrance as he bites his lip to salvage composure.

“shit, kitten—” he’s choking out with a strangled huff while you’re hyper focused on the kindled stretch of his cock as you sink lower. trying to hold your breath ’cause who knows what kind of wanton noise could slip out, even if you’re still gasping like you can feel him in your throat.

you still haven’t said anything. jaw clenched, breathing deep through your nose while lashes flutter in focus since he’s. just. that. big. 

sweat is already beading at his temple by the time he’s fully sheathed in your velvet heat. neither of you have moved yet and you’re feeling him press in places you never thought existed. dazed and disoriented, you take a moment to accommodate the feeling of being stuffed so wholly.

he’s mumbling out a huffed “you okay?” that somehow tethers you to reality. then he's snaking a hand up your spine, stroking you lightly before his fist curls around the strands of your hair, gently tugging your head to be level with his. he bites back another smirk when he sees you adjust the cat ears that’d barely slipped.

“yeah, fine.” you let the words out with a small puff, hands grasping him so tight they might just brand his skin. cockiness aside, satoru’s been waiting for this for months.

sure, when you first PMed him he’d been skeptical. but in your spurious persistence, he’d conceded. and that’s when the dreams started. 

seriously, it was like you were casting spells on him.

fantasies about what it would feel like to have you, always so cute and dolled up on his screen, wrapped around him with that tight, velvet vice. about the noises you’d make, the way you’d cry and beg for him to let you come.

months he’d been waiting, and now you were here. finally, in his arms.

“mmh. sure you are.” he teases with no real malice. a real snark would’ve been silly coming from the guy whose cheeks are flushed a rosy pink because he’s that affected. one hand is still loosely fisted in your hair while the other traces a sultry path down your shoulder blades to the faint dip of your arch.

you draw in one last shaky breath before beginning to move. what starts as a stuttered lift of your hips turns into almost controlled gyrations. you let out a breathy sigh when you feel him yank you down against his bare chest, heart hammering against your own as he lewdly fucks up into you.

another whimper is caught in your throat, ass knocking against his thighs as you twin his feverish thrusts while he groans loudly by your ear, murmuring something barely coherent about how perfect you are.

you somehow will yourself to drag a hand up his neck and rake through the tousled, pearly stands of his hair. that’s until he pummels into a spot that has you surging forward, touch leaving him to slam against the pillow as you let out a sound that can only be described as animalistic. 

you’re tightening up and he’s still driving into you. you tense like it’s a mission, mouth dropping open in a cry that cracks as you feel your climax crash over you a second time. so intensely you feel like you’re about to convulse, so fiercely you practically keel over and collapse onto him, headband dropping, bouncing off the bed and somewhere on the floor.

“OHMYGODOHMYGOD!!” you’re wailing, hands scrambling to clutch anything and everything while his pace finally begins to stammer.

“o-oh fuck—hah, so fu-fucking tight—!” he’s almost slurring, eyes fluttering shut as he barely manages to hold back. the last few seconds feel like an eternity of overstimulation for you before he’s pulling out with a shudder, sturdy arms squeezing you tight and hoisting you up while his cum spurts against the backs of your thighs.

“so good to me, sweet girl. soooo good to me.” he’s hushing out even more crazed than before, lips trailing over every inch of skin he can reach, easing you down as you continue to thrum with the aftershocks of such a fervid orgasm. you can barely manage a word, heaving against his sculpted front as he mildly flips your positions, hands brushing away sticky curls.

your fingers scrabble to find purchase against his delts, cheeks warm and body beyond boneless. eyes flutter closed like it’s second nature and you hear him puff out a quiet, sated laugh against your cheek.

“m’gonna be so sore tomorrow.” you grumble hoarsely, feeling too hot but burrowing against him despite yourself. he keeps stroking you, touch almost scathing in the way it crawls up your spine and down your achy skin with a barely fettered intensity.

“don’t worry, kitten. daddy’s gonna take realll good care of you. make you feel all better.”

and you almost wonder if this whole thing’s been some kind of orchestrated farce when you hear a stifled snicker.

for fuck’s sake.

a/n: i don’t know what possessed me to write this. sorry.

[cookiiehuh]

fic coming soon guys,, trust 🙏🙏

♡ ♡ boyfie choso who….ᐟ ♡ ♡

.cont.ᐟ ʙᴏʏꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ!ᴄʜᴏꜱᴏ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴꜱ (ᴅᴜʜ), ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀ ᴄʟɪɴɢʏ + ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄʜᴇᴅ, ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ, ʟᴏᴡᴋ ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ ɪ ᴡɪꜱʜ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀꜱ ʀᴇᴀʟ.

boyfie.ᐟchoso who… isn’t the type to make playlists of songs dedicated to you, but does take pictures of the things that remind him of you. the pretty streaks of sunset on the way home? as bright as your smile. the bush of lilies he saw on the way to run errands? the scent is almost as sweet as you. and he’d send them to you, too. at least once on most days, you’d get a message, a little reminder of how much you mean to him. of course, you see the beauty of the one you love in the world around you.

boyfie.ᐟchoso who… is absolutely enthralled each time you apply makeup. whether it’s daily routine or only on special occasions, he’s infatuated with the way you guide the brush across your face, the way you apply the gloss and how it makes you look so kissable. you’d be sitting at the vanity, brushing over your lashes with a coat of mascara while he sits on the bed and just watches. some might call it overbearing, he calls it admiration. if anyone were to appreciate the artistry that only works to enhance the natural beauty of your features, it’s him.

boyfie.ᐟchoso who… makes sure neither of you leave the house without a little peck first. you wouldn’t have to ask him, he’d press his lips against your cheek before you’ve even got your shoes on. so the first time you ‘forget’, he doesn’t say anything. maybe he gets a little pouty at the supposed neglect, but he never pushes. if it’s a repeat offence, though, he might subtly tap his cheek, or perhaps he’d mumble out a little “where’s my goodbye kiss?”, pretending to say it as if he had no intention of you hearing. but when you crack at his antics and plant a little smooch on his temple, the small smile he sports tells you everything.

boyfie.ᐟchoso who… was super shy in the early stages of your relationship. even now, he gets giddy when you declare an earnest “i love you.”, and nervous because he wants to give you the world. poor, overworked, and tired-beyond-belief mind conjuring up schemes on how to swoon you, court you, as if he isn’t the one you share your nights with already. all his gestures are intentional, carved to curl your lips into that beautiful smile that makes his heart do an entire gymnastics sequence.

boyfie.ᐟchoso who… makes it no secret that he likes being told what to do. no, he doesn’t like it, he loves it. because not only does he breathe to serve you - at least, in his mind - he can almost forget the responsibilities he’s endowed outside the bubble of your shared haven. you ask him for tea, even if he insists you just tell him to just make you a cup since he likes it when you order him around. of course, this extends to more heated moments. ones where he’s looking up at you with glossy eyes, asking you if he’s been good enough for a reward… ♡

a/n: i need to write a proper fic abt him

[cookiiehuh]

watch out everyone, im either going to make another part thats angstier or straight up freak 100

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

[cookiiehuh]

“don’t run from it.” NGHHHH

. ۫ᯓᡣ𐭩 suguru geto ˚₊‧꒰ა secret meetings ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˖ ꯴ ⌇ “ 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 '𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 ”

you tell yourself that visiting suguru post-defection is purely to convince him to come back.

it's definitely not because he's got you sprawled over a mahogany desk as though it's an altar and worshipping you like a god.

his tongue's a sin, his fingers a crime. they pump into your syrupy walls and spill sticky slick all over the wood and his palm. your sweet juices catch on the draped sleeves of his robes and suddenly, he decides they're his new favourite.

"oh princess, how're they treating my girl back there? poor pussy's crying s'much. you neglecting her?"

two digits curl into a heather on a gummy spot he knew expertly. he grins at the squelch and spill — unable to decide if your teary face or weeping cunt is what he should focus on. he decides the latter, only in favour of swooping down to press a chaste kiss atop your clit.

you squeeze your eyes shut and squirm back when his lips wrap around the throbbing bud. sucking down and trapping it like his free hand does your thigh the more you try to escape him.

violet hues cut over to you through dark lashes. "nuh-uh, c'mon darling. don't run from it."

his fingers part with a lewd squelch! before he smacks an open palm on your gushing slit, grinning at your jolt. "missed me s'much. don't deprive her."

suguru's mouth and fingers swap position, thumbing on your clit while he tongue-fucks you into a helpless arch. his hair becomes your sanctuary, his name becomes your blasphemy. you shouldn't be here. shouldn't be here spread and needy for him. a mass murderer, a manipulator — and the only man who could make you squirt.

"s-sugu - please. please - 'm cumming -"

he kisses around your wetness and then shoves his face in. suffocating on your scent and flicking your clit in frantic horizontal strokes. "yeah you are," his deep groan vibrates into your wetness as he raggedly breaths. like a man starved. a sinner parched. "cause only I can do this yeah? been years and your sweet cunt's still loyal to me."

you fight back tears. pleasure? pain? you don't know — you don't care, not with the coil in your gut and the insatiable combination of finger and tongue. you miss waking up to this. miss falling asleep like this. but for a moment, it's all yours.

you fist on his silky hair and toss your head back. roughly grind your hips up into his face and gloss him over in your slick as an orgasm ripples through you with a rasped: "sugu! s-suguruu oh god —"

"mhhm." is all he slurs into your mess. slurping you up like the sweetest nectar as he messily, meanly circles the oversensitive nub. he'll exchange for another shove of his fingers and greedy laps on your cum.

"that's right. yeah, 'm your god. fuck, pussy knows it so well."

© 𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 . no copying, translation or plagiarism authorised

[cookiiehuh]

I was on the verge of passing out while writing this, I’m not even kidding.

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?, 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 hell 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 you’re 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.

[cookiiehuh]

TBR OMG

NOT SO INVISIBLE STRING — GOJO SATORU

synopsis: the universe has a funny way of working. gojo always knew he was destined to be with you and so did others. it just took some time for you to figure that out as well.

content warning(s): FLUFF! eventual smut so 18+ mdni, fem! reader, pining gojo (sooo cute), mutual pining, friends to lovers, unproetected sex, gojo calling you baby multiple times while going innn.

word count: 6.8k zoo wee mama... pls read anyway or i'll d— EDIT: do not feed my work into c.ai. cough grimmjowshitheart cough

SPRING 2008

“So, you’re not gonna miss me? Not even a little?” 

An arm was suddenly thrown across your shoulders, leaving you to bear its weight. The press of his uniform stuck to your nape, making his presence all the more difficult to ignore.

Fellow students bustled and sidestepped their way around you two, some even falter in their steps to ogle briefly at the scene unfolding before them.

“Satoru, move!” Shoko— your saviour— jabs Gojo’s side, urging him to budge, but to no avail.

He’s still tethered to your side, twirling around his diploma in his unoccupied hand despite your best efforts to create space between you two. “You’re literally blocking people’s way toward the gates,” she says.

It’s graduation day and the last day of school for the spring semester, bringing the school year to yet another successful end. It also meant that today would be the last time your upperclassmen would walk on school grounds as students.

The sun was beginning to dip behind the many trees surrounding the school, and its marvellous glow cast warm hues of pink and orange that stretched across the sky. Its rays descend onto the school’s campus; setting for a brilliant, comforting atmosphere. 

Answering Gojo’s initial question about whether you’d miss him, you avert eye contact with your persistent senior. “I never said that,” your voice teeters between a grumble and a groan riddled with exasperation. 

Your eyes sweep the courtyard and you spot a few familiar faces in the crowd. Some are gathered along the steps leading up to the school taking photos to commemorate today. Others linger on campus chatting amongst themselves, and some whack each other with their diploma scrolls while others treat theirs delicately.

And not too far off from where Satoru holds you hostage stood a small crowd of his classmates—specifically, his female classmates— waiting for their chance to bid their goodbyes...

Or stumble out an unprepared confession thrown out in the heat of the moment before they may never see Gojo Satoru again.

Who knows. 

All you’re sure of is that they are most definitely throwing you shady death glares from your peripheral.

“Y’know, I’m gonna miss you,” Gojo says, his arm still looped around your shoulders. He has half a mind to drag you away from standing right front and centre in the entranceway and shuffles you off to the side. “All the years we’ve spent together—”

“Two years, by force.” 

“— and now we’re being split apart,” he finishes, paying no mind to your sardonic comment. The infliction in his voice prompts you to turn to look at him, only to wind up and see a slight pout tugging at his soft, pink lips. “How ever will we manage?”

You smother down the urge to heave a loud and heavy sigh at the clingy characteristics he’s displaying today and decide to play nice.

Gojo’s always been one to be playful, perhaps even a bit pushy at times but it was all in good nature. However, for some reason, his antics have reached a whole new level today. 

Emotions were running high among staff and students alike. Some are more potent and… persistent than others.

“You’ll be fine,” you assure, patting his arm half-heartedly, “and I will certainly be fine. Everything will be just fine.”

In the middle of your sentence from the corner of your eye, you spot another one of your seniors— Geto Suguru. You watch him step out from a conversation with two classmates of yours (Haibara and Nanami) and is now trekking his way over to where you and Gojo occupy the front steps.

“Geto-senpai!” 

Geto greets you warmly by placing a comforting hand on your head and gives you a reassuring pat once, then twice. The action leaves your hairstyle a little dishevelled, nonetheless, there’s a small smile tugging at your lips.

You’ve only interacted with Geto a sparse number of times outside of class or at the end of the school day. Whenever you both would cross paths you appreciated how he would regard your presence with temperance. It always left you feeling at ease. You’ll miss him. 

You’ll especially miss how he was so quick to offer you and Haibara snacks from the vending machines on campus.

Gojo emits a pathetic squawk at the special name drop.

Pale, white brows are pinched tightly together with faux betrayal. “How come he gets honorifics but I don’t?!” he complains once Geto’s within earshot. 

“I see that Satoru's already started…”

Though Geto was talking to no one in particular, Shoko chips in given that she bore witness to Gojo’s incessant pestering toward you ever since the home bell rang. “You missed the part where he blocked her from getting to the lockers for a good several minutes.” Unzipping her bag, she carelessly shoves her diploma into it. 

“But anyway, I’m gonna head out for a smoke. I’ll catch you guys later.” Before departing, Shoko stretches her hand towards you and gives your arm an affectionate squeeze. “Get home safe, ‘kay? Don’t let these guys keep you out too long.”

Which reminded you…

“Gojo, this has been fun and all…” Being rag-dolled around by your upperclassman across campus has been anything but fun. “But I really should start heading home now.”

You wanted to beat the rush hour of students and working-class alike trying to go home on a late Thursday afternoon. Looking for empty seats on the 4:25 PM train was brutal and you did not have the energy to stand the entire ride home.

Sensing your air of urgency, he eventually relents. Heaving a dramatic sigh, Gojo steps back a few and gives you some space.  

“Gimme a second, yeah?” He rummages around in his uniform pocket, searching for something. It only lasts about a second before he pulls out his flip phone.

“Suguru!” A curt upward nod of Gojo’s head is the only warning Geto gets before he tosses his cell toward his best friend to catch. You’re appalled that he catches it so easily with the little to no notice that was given. “Take a picture of us.”

…Huh?

Your brows drew close-knit together with confusion. “What are y—?!” Before you can even finish your question, you’re pulled tightly into Gojo’s side. 

His arms circle your neck once more, but this time, he uses the opportunity of your close proximity to tip his head to the side and knock it against your own. 

“Smile,” Gojo murmurs into your ear, his slender fingers pinching at your cheek prodding for you to plaster on a sugary smile for the picture.

You don’t have enough time to register, let alone recover from how his lips faintly brushed against your skin, Gojo’s already obnoxiously yelling “Cheese!” towards the awaiting camera.  

Snapping the photo Geto sports a lazy grin admiring his work. “Looks good,” he says before he tosses the phone back to its owner. 

You’re still reeling over the gentle graze of Gojo’s lips against your cheek, too dazed to digest what’s going on around you. What. In. The hell. Just happened??? 

Sputtering out a laugh, Gojo grins down at the image on his phone. “What’s with that face you’re making, huh?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you look up at Gojo curiously. Whatever was in that picture that made him smile that wide couldn’t have been good. “What do you mean?” You question, stepping closer to see what he was referring to on his screen.

Gojo tips his cell over and shows you the photo Geto took. There you both are in grain, Gojo looking the most lively out of you two. Despite the quality of the camera, you can see the proud and happy smile he wears compared to your frazzled and confused expression.

If anything, it looked like you were the one who was graduating and he so happened to snag a photo with you before your big send-off.

“I wasn’t ready…” you grumbled, looking away from his phone.

There’s a faint smile lingering on his face, blue eyes still trained on the screen. His voice's cadence grows warm and carries a small hint of affection.

“That face of yours is what I’m gonna miss the most.”

SUMMER 2009 

To no one’s surprise, you and Gojo kept in close contact, even after graduating high school. 

Well… More so Gojo kept in contact with you. Consistently. 

Whenever he can.

He was there during your spring graduation (shocker), much to the elation of the entire female population from your graduating class. Looking back, the number of times he stopped to pose with random students around the school when he came to greet you was absurd.

You’ll also never forget how loud he cheered when your name was called despite Principal Yaga telling the audience to hold their applause and hollers until after the ceremony.

Fast forward to the summer of ‘09 where Gojo consistently seeks your presence to go and hang out with him now that you have a freed-up schedule. Whether it's with him alone or with Geto and Shoko, you can always rely on him to shoot you a ‘u busy?’ text an hour before dragging you out for the rest of the day.

“Sooo,” you start slowly.

Your eyes skim across the playground, watching the few children who were there amble and climb on the jungle gym before you. The sun was beginning to descend below the skyline, and hues of warm orange press onto your features casting you and your surroundings in a soft glow. 

“You’re a… guardian now,” you state, eyeing how Gojo stretches his legs out beside you. 

You both sit at a park bench, the chorus of laughter and playful shrieks surround you as you watch Megumi— a kid Gojo now supposedly looks after— poke mindlessly at something buried beneath the playground’s sand.

“Yup!” he chirps, but then it’s swiftly followed by a hesitant, “Well, sorta kinda…”

There’s a mental warfare going on in his mind as he combs through the various explanations he can give you, searching for one that would be both concise and easy for you to digest.

“To put it simply, from here on out I’m going to be a constant in Megumi and Tsumiki’s life.”

You think of the step-sibling duo. They’re the sweetest pair of children you’ve had the delight of coming across, and now…

“They’re doomed,” you say with pity, your gaze still focused on the youngest Fushiguro. 

Gojo gasps in disbelief at your bold accusation with his hand flying to his chest, clearly having taken offence. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” he asks.

But before you could give him a smart alec answer, the cheerful exclamation of your name pulls your attention elsewhere. The soft thump of Tsumiki’s shoes approaching prompts you to smile brightly. With open arms, the girl practically throws herself at you and giggles.

You give her cheek an affectionate squeeze. Despite her being in the second grade, you couldn’t help but coddle her. “Why hello, Tsumiki!” 

It takes her a few moments to finally release you from the hug, backing up a bit she glances up at you. “Where were you? I missed you on Tuesday, the swings weren’t fun without you!” she says, pouting.

“I wasn’t feeling the best, so I had to turn down Gojo’s invite to meet you guys at the park that day.”

Upon hearing all the commotion, Megumi spots Tsumiki talking to you a few steps from the play area. It prompts the young boy to walk over and join you three at the bench. He nods his head over at his step-sister and says, “She thought you guys broke up.”

Huh?

You blink rapidly. “Broke— Broke up!?” You squawk, the inflection of your voice rising at the ‘up’ part.

Where could she have possibly gotten that idea from? You and Gojo weren’t even dating!

Gathering your composure you plaster on a sweet smile, ready to explain to the young pair that you and Gojo weren’t together like that before a heavy arm comes hunkering down onto your shoulders. “Even if she tried, she can’t get rid of me that easily,” Gojo comments.

Christ.

Tsumiki claps her hands together in glee at this revelation. “Yay! ‘Cause I like you!” she confesses. “I thought I’d have to deal with Gojo and his friend with the big ears pushing me on the swings forever.” And with that, the girl’s already off running to the big yellow slide, pulling Megumi along in her wake.

The sweet smile you wear grows more and more strained the longer you two sit there on that damned bench with Gojo’s arm still lodged around you like it belonged there. 

Long delicate fingers drum themselves along your bare shoulder which leaves a tingling sensation that lingers against your skin.

“Gojo Satoru…” you hiss between clenched teeth.

Your hand creeps up to give his knee a mean pinch, but as always, Gojo reads your movements like a damn book and catches your hand in his before that could happen. “Hm?”

“What do you mean ‘Hm’?” You gesture in the general direction of where the kids are playing. You feel your brows start to pinch together. “Why would you tell them that?!”

“It’s true though, no?” Snowy white wisps of hair fall in front of his eyes shaded by his signature round sunglasses. “We haven’t ‘broken up’ and we’re still together. Just not in their understanding of it.”

“You—! That’s not—” You flounder for words, trying to spit out why he can’t go around inadvertently feeding into the imagination of whatever relationship Tsumiki and Megumi thought you two had. But you come up blank.

“You’re irritating, you know that?” you say, as you try (and fail) at removing his arm which still rests comfortably around your shoulders, pressing you tight against him. “You’ll wind up confusing them.”

An easy smile slips onto his lips as he observes Tsumiki and Megumi scramble up the slides. “Relax,” he responds. “They’re smart kids.”

And until it was time for the Fushiguros to go home, there you two sat underneath the thinning ochre sky. Stuck under the guise of an unspoken relationship.

WINTER 2011

Being the “middleman” between two people who are so obviously into each other but cannot figure out how to hang around each other normally was all too common for Shoko.

It’s a shame that Geto wasn’t available to come down and hang out with the three of you tonight, he would’ve revelled in getting a kick out of this expected yet unexpected… turn of events.

Brought in as a buffer between you two, with an unlit cigarette dangling loosely from her lips Shoko leaned back in her chair and watched the buzzing scene before her unfold with bemused eyes. 

Underneath the comforting golden glow of the restaurant’s hanging table light, Gojo picks at the cookie dough chunks that litter your plate to which you turn a blind eye. Now, Shoko could’ve easily brushed this occurrence off, seeing that friends often eat from each other's share of food all the time.

But something was... different.

With Gojo seated to your left inside the booth, he neatly cuts up a piece of his soft, creamy cheesecake and leverages the small serving on his spoon. “Here, try some of mine,” he says.

Harmless, right? 

So, you reach for your own spoon to retrieve the sample of dessert that he was offering you. But without any hesitation, Gojo lifts his cutlery to your lips and prods the food toward your mouth.

There was no way that he intended on doing this right here, right now. In front of Shoko especially.

“Say, ‘Ahhh’!”

Concern creases your brow when Gojo continues to press the spoon against your lips, idly humming as he waits for you to open your mouth so he can spoon feed you as if he were your mother. A delicate, yet sure hand cupping your chin and everything.

He was being serious.

From your peripheral, you catch the slow spread of a Cheshire-like grin creeping onto Shoko’s face.

You press your fingers onto Gojo’s wrist and frown. Trying to retreat from his hand, a peal of nervous laughter bubbles out from you at his display of reckless affection at the table. “Give me a br—”

Gojo uses the opportunity of your uncertain state to slip his sharing of the  Japanese cheesecake into your mouth in the middle of your sentence. Your eyes widen a small fraction at its creamy taste, prompting him to comment, “It’s good, right?”

The cigarette threatens to slip from Shoko’s mouth, as her lips slightly gape at what just happened before they curve into a soft smile. Her brown eyes are warm with… something. It’s as if she knew something that you didn’t.  

“Ehhh…” Is all she says before you’re already jumping down her throat to clear up any misunderstandings.

“It’s nothing!” you supply in a rushed manner. Your main objective was to simply imply that this was nothing for her to lose her head over. Hell, even the friendliest of friends feed each other all the time! Right?

But at your remark, Gojo’s mouth downturns into a cute little pout. “What do you mean, ‘nothing’?” From the corner of your eye you glance at how he’s fixed another spoonful of the dessert, and it's hovering in your direction.

“Sato—” Fuck.

You quickly correct yourself on your mistake, and school your voice to have a bit more edge to it. Despite that, you don’t overlook how hard Gojo’s beaming at you. “Gojo, not now.”

“Ehhh?” Shoko exclaims once again, but this time the cadence of her voice has changed. It’s gained an amused note to its tune. “You call him Satoru now? Since when?”

“I’ve been begging her to use it for the longest time ever,” Gojo answers on your behalf, and he ignores your mutter for him to please stop talking in favour of jabbing an accusatory finger at you. “You know how painful it was to see you be all chummy and on a first-name basis with everyone but me?”

Lord. You’ve forgotten how dramatic he could be. 

There’s a teasing glint in Shoko’s eye that you quite don’t like, and her lips purse heavy with consideration at his comment. “You make him beg?”

Groaning, you cross your arms against the table and bury your face. You can’t with them. Your two former upperclassmen were the bane of your existence right about now. 

“I’ll kill you both,” you mutter, your speech muffled by the fabric of your sweater.

A FEW YEARS LATER

A calming blue nightly glow ripples through your curtains, casting your room in nothing but moonlight. Amidst the serene silence, you idly stare at your screen and read the text Satoru sent you right as the clock struck midnight.

Satoru: Are you home?

What an ominous question. Your eyes skim over his message again. And then again. 

…And again.

Thumbing through your phone, you glance at the time displayed on the top of your screen. It’s been five minutes since you’ve opened his text. You should probably send something back soon before he quintuple texts you.

As you’re about to respond right when Satoru immediately shoots you another.

Satoru: I KNOW you see this!!! ( `ε´ )

Satoru: Hurry hurry hurry

You: yes... why?

Now it’s his turn to take a while to respond. First, it takes a couple of minutes for you to receive that pinging chime; indicating that he’s texted you back— which isn’t too bad because you like to consider yourself a pretty patient person. 

But then five minutes slowly turn into ten, and that ten becomes a whopping fifteen until finally he answers.

Satoru: Open your door.

What the fuck.

Satoru: Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepl

So that’s why he took so long to reply. The man was coming all the way down from his place to come and visit you!

You: you're actually insane.

You: hold on!

Rising from your seated position on your bed, you stalk over to your bedroom door and are about to exit when you spot yourself in a nearby mirror.

“Oh!” you exclaim to no one in particular. You can’t open the door for him looking like… this.

Wait, why do you care about what Satoru thinks of your clothes?!

 He’s seen you wearing much worse. Like that one instance in first-year, when you had to borrow Geto’s spare parachute pants because Haibara accidentally spilt his soda all over your lap during an informal outing with everyone.

Yeesh.

Shaking your head, you slip out of your room and pad down your apartment hallway wearing your discoloured oversized band tee and shorts. Upon reaching your door, your hand hesitates on the doorknob. 

It stays like that for a few seconds until the doorknob is rattled in a fashion that’s all too persistent, annoying, and all from—

“Satoru!” you hiss, swinging the door open. You’re ready to chew him out on how much of a nuisance he may be for your sleeping neighbours a few doors down. But your looming reprimand falls short on your tongue once your eyes take in the man facing you.

“Happy birthday!” 

In the darkness, the soft glow of sparklers illuminates your features and highlights the exquisite details of a beautifully decorated cake held in Satoru’s hands.

Wordlessly, your hand aimlessly searches for the light switch to brighten up your hallway so that you may get a better look at what’s on the cake. 

Something trembles in your chest and it hurts a little to breathe. But not in the way that you detest.

He’s cute.

Gojo Satoru is so heartbreakingly cute.

On the cake, you see that damn grainy photo you two took on his graduation day back in ‘08. The photo you love to hate.

Wetness springs to your eyes from the entire gesture, from the fact that he ensured he was the first one through text and physically to wish you a happy birthday, and from the fact that he’s here right now.

“Hey…” There’s concern creasing Satoru’s expression as he pokes his head down a little to get a better read on you. “Are you crying?”

You sniff back your tears and grunt out a watery, “No… Shut up and come in already.”

Ushering him inside, Satoru hands you your cake, toes off his shoes and heads straight to your living room. Good to see that he’s already making himself at home.

Plopping himself down onto your couch you hesitantly follow behind him, suddenly feeling like a stranger in your own home. “Come, come!” He waves a welcoming hand at you and pats the seat beside him, insinuating that you should sit.

With immediate interest, you do as he says and take a seat beside him after you position your cake in the middle of your coffee table. The couch feels so small now, with him spread out like that.

Pulling out something from his pocket with one hand and tugging off the party hat from his head with the other— had he been wearing that the whole time?— Satoru clears his throat. “Before you cry again, I gotta make sure you’re able to see your present first.”

He takes your head in his hands, and you realize his fingertips are a little cold as they press on your warm cheeks. Stretching the string down from the party hat a bit, he places it under your chin and snaps the cardboard cone into place on your head.

Breathing a noise of satisfaction seemingly content with how you look, a cheeky grin dances across Satoru’s face. “Perfect. You can now go ahead and open your gift,” he says, handing you a small black velvet box with the company logo HW scrawled across it.

“Wait, what,” you deadpan.

This can’t be what you think it is.

“It’s not a ring!” Satoru blurts. But composes himself seconds later with a quip of, “Unless you want it to be?”

Har. Har. Very funny.

You disregard what he’s said and peel open the box with caring hands.

Inside was the most extravagant necklace you’ve ever laid eyes on. A diamond pendant laid bare inside the box in the shape of a forget-me-not with your birthstone at the flower's centre. 

That could’ve easily cost him a little over one million yen if you think about it deeply.

“Satoru!” you squeal.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around his neck and squeeze your longtime friend into your loving embrace. Satoru’s gift to you almost topples and sinks into the crevice of your couch had it not been for his quick hand to catch the necklace.

Your heart’s racing, and initially, his body goes rigid until he gradually relaxes under your hold. “You’re crazy, ’s too expensive!” you sparingly chastise him. 

Satoru swallows hard and brings a careful arm up to reciprocate the hug. You feel the warm press of his arm against the thin material of your shirt. 

“Nothing’s too expensive if you’re involved,” you hear him murmur into your ear. “So, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

You give him one last bone-crushing squeeze, hoping that your rare show of physical touch does not go unnoticed and exemplifies how grateful you are. Pulling away from him you look him dead in the eyes. “Thank you, seriously.”

Shrugging you off like it was no big deal as if he didn’t blow double, maybe even triple the money the average Japanese businessman earns on a singular paycheque toward your necklace, Satoru casts you a gentle smile and changes the subject. 

There would be no need to dwell on it any longer with what’s to come.

“Now…” He gives your lower back a soft pat. Once, and twice. “A birthday kiss from the birthday girl.” Satoru puckers out his lips and shuts his eyes real tight, making a huge show out of it.

For extra effect, he even hums a prolonged Mmm-ing sound to emphasize him waiting for you to initiate it.

It’s a joke; you know he’s joking. He has a ridiculously long history of being overly affectionate with his teasings and whatnot. 

But this time, you really do lean in and take said kiss from him.

There’s something incredibly adorable about this kiss that has your heart surging in your chest. Partly because it’s the first time that you’re kissing each other, but mostly because of how frigid and careful it is. It made you feel as if you were in high school all over again, trying a plethora of new things for kicks and giggles.

The tension was almost palpable, thick enough to suffocate the air he breathed. Even when you pulled away creating space between you both, Satoru still felt a lingering lump in his throat.

Cracking your eyes open, you see that Satoru’s own are blown wide. Piercing cerulean eyes stare unblinking at you. Normally, you would’ve found that to be off putting as hell, had it not been for the slow rise of a blooming pink crawling up his neck.

“Sorry,” you offer weakly. Sensing that you may have gone too far, you make an effort to scoot off his lap. But a determined arm holds you in place.

“Again.” He swallows thickly, and your eyes follow that mesmerizing movement in his throat. “I… I didn’t do it right. Please.”

And who are you to make him beg? So, you do as he says.

Leaning in, your lips press against Satoru’s once more. And this time, he has the sense to close his eyes and bask in it, not daring to let his nerves get the best of him (though he’d never admit it). 

Slotting yourself to be more flushed against him, the tips of your noses brush and you feel Satoru’s hand smooth down your spine. The pads of his fingertips press onto your exposed skin peeking out from underneath the hem of your shirt bunched around your hips.

God, you wanted him bad.

It’s abrupt, the way you push yourself off him and force yourself to stand on your feet, breaking the kiss. The rise and fall of your chest is a bit staggered and Satoru’s is too. He’s all red-faced and his snow-white hair is a bit dishevelled, considering how many times you’ve combed your fingers through it.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Cute. 

That alone made you want to jump his bones even more.

You shake your head and get one good look at him before you leave him to head down your hallway. He looked perpetually enraptured by you, eyes hyper-focused on your every movement.  “Come to my bedroom.”

Satoru’s stunned, the implications of your remark not lost on him.

And like a keen lost puppy, of course he follows. He joins you in your bedroom seconds after you and stands in the doorway, just kind of hovering there. Not sure of what to do.

Wait. Did he come here too fast? Did that make him look overly desperate? A million and one questions rush through Satoru’s mind as his neck grows red, stained with embarrassment, want… arousal. 

Seeing how he seems to be short-wiring at your doorway, you beckon him to join you on the bed with your hand. Once he does, he sits extremely close next to you. His clothed thigh brushes against your bare one, which sends a jolt of electricity through you.

Your fingers find his nape once again and they stroke up on his fresh undercut, prompting him to shiver a bit. “Why’re you so shy all of a sudden?” you question, your voice going gentle with a provoking edge to it.

Gaining some of his personality back, Satoru pinches your cheek. “‘Cause I didn’t think you’d want to kiss me!” But his mean hand then turns soft and slides along your jaw, his thumb rubbing smooth circles into the skin just below your ear. 

“Well, I’m here,” you say, scooting impossibly closer to the man beside you, “and wanting.”

Message received.

Hauling you onto his lap, Satoru cradles your face in both hands and kisses you deeply. It’s full of emotion, expressing all the things he’s been wanting to say for the longest time. A trembled exhale escapes you, and it’s through that that Satoru uses the opportunity to slide his tongue alongside yours. 

The kiss is frenzied, but so filled with love.

“So you like me?” he asks, his breathing laboured.

“Yes,” you bite, pushing him away from you and onto the mattress. “As if swapping spit with you wasn’t enough.” You guess you’ll have to show him how much you undoubtedly like him, love him even, through other means. 

He huffs a breath of laughter and drops his back onto your bed. Underneath you, you see Satoru’s eyes sparkle as he watches you have your way with him. 

But something’s up.

His eyes climb up a little higher and this time, he barks out a real laugh.

You still have that piece of fuck sitting on your head. You probably look stupid as hell right now.

Discerning that you’re about to raise your hand to your head, Satoru holds your wrist in his palm. There’s something bright that gleams behind those alluring pools of blue, warm and tender. He bites back a smile. “The birthday hat stays on during sex.”

You scrunch your nose at him. “You’re so dumb,” you growl with artificial frustration and tear off the cone-shaped hat from your head, tossing it into the depths of your room. He whines at its loss, but you’re quick to placate him with a slow roll of your hips into his lap.

Satoru’s jaw clenches and his hands fly to your waist, gripping you tightly as you continue to grind yourself down onto his erection. Your ministrations pull a wanton whimper from his lips, one that has you grinding with more purpose— the purpose of hearing that sound again.

“Do you like that?” you ask.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak, else he’ll let out a pathetic string of moans.

“I know, me too.” Satoru’s dick lurches in the confines of his pants as he watches you dry-hump him into the mattress slowly, your eyes shining with lust. Fuck, he could get hard just off your expression alone. “It feels reeeally nice being up on you like this,” you continue.

You have a fucking dirty mouth. One that Satoru’s growing more and more addicted to the more you speak.

There’s an incessant throbbing between your legs that you can’t quite alleviate. While rolling your hips into Satoru’s lap— with his occasional thrust to match your movements— felt good, it can only do so much. You wanted and needed more.

And so did Satoru, because he’s already pulling at the waistband of his pants. His thumb loops two layers and tugs both his pants and boxers down, revealing his toned V-line. 

Fuck.

You fall victim to Satoru’s enamoured gaze from below, which makes you squirm hot with arousal. “Take it off,” he commands.

He wants you to strip him of his clothes. 

Caught taking a startled breath, you ignore the wicked, handsome smile that slinks onto his face as you slip off his lap so you may curl your fingers around his waistband and pull. Your pussy clenches when his erect dick springs into view, and the heat pumping through your veins runs a little hotter.

You shiver at how pretty and filling his dick looks. After a few seconds of openly ogling at his lap, Satoru clears his throat which successfully gets you to drag your eyes back up to his face.

“While that was nice,” he starts, leveraging himself up onto his elbows and grins at your cute error, “I meant you, baby. Take it off.”

“Oh.” 

Seriously? Just ‘Oh’?

Mentally facepalming, you shimmy your shorts down your legs along with your panties. They pool down at your ankles and you step out of them to stand between his legs.

Fully sitting up, Satoru pats his lap; encouraging you to sit on him again. “C’mere.”

You crawl onto his lap, but you don’t sit down fully. Hovering a few inches away from his cock, your knees press on each side of his thighs, trapping him in. 

There’s no way in hell you were gonna sit down right now, knowing that if you do, you’d be pressing your bare pussy onto his naked thigh and he’d feel everything. Exposing how wet you are.

Humming, Satoru lifts the hem of your oversized top to your breasts and sighs. “Pretty,” he murmurs before he leans forward and captures your nipple into his mouth.

You gasp harshly at the titillating feeling. Your hands balance on his shoulders for support, as he rolls your nipple on his tongue.

“Sa— Ah!” You cry out. The hand between your legs startles you and has you whimpering in the open air.

“You’re wet,” he comments, slipping a finger against your slick pussy.

“Shut up about it…”

But he doesn’t. Another finger joins the first and delves down between your lips, gradually easing them inside you. They push against your walls, curling in a way that has you gasping into his neck. “You got wet from grinding alone, huh?” 

A breath stutters out of your mouth and you rock yourself against his hand. You can’t take this anymore. You want more. “Do you have a condom?” you ask.

“I—” he groans when your hand slides between you two, your fingers curl around his dick and stroke his tip along your leaking slit. “I didn’t bring one, because I didn’t think we’d—”

Oh.

Biting your bottom lip, you sling a heavy arm across Satoru’s shoulders. You meet his hungry gaze with one of your own and inch closer toward his dick that rests against his stomach. What you’re about to do could be risky, but at this given moment you couldn’t find it in you to be overly stressed about it.

“No worries,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, “I trust you enough to pull out in time.” And like that, you push down on him and ease Satoru’s cock into your aching cunt, making him bottom out inside you completely.

You’re so wet and slippery that it took little to no effort for him to slide inside. The noise of your slick sticking to where you two meet at the hips has you two moaning softly in unison.

The harsh mutter of your name echoes off your bedroom walls and goes straight to your cunt. “So tight,” he grits out behind clenched, white teeth.

Each time you slide up and down on his cock, Satoru grows more unrestrained with his vocal appreciation of how well you take him. Desperate little moans escape him each time your sweet cunt squeezes him of all he’s worth.

You were no better. Choppy, broken whimpers can be heard from you, loving how he stretches your walks with your length. He fits perfectly inside you like your cunt was destined for this moment, for him alone. 

“Let me fuck you,” Satoru blurts out. He was losing it, and he could feel him tipping closer and closer to the edge of release.

“You are— Ugn!” you say weakly when his hands grab your ass and he stands, lifting you with him as if it were nothing. Kicking off his bottoms, Satoru props you on your back against your mattress.

 Crawling between your legs, he positions the crown of his cock to press against your opening. “No,” he drawls, with one hand on the base of his shaft and the other propped beside your head. “Let me fuck you.”

He pushes in and you swear you see stars. 

Satoru pistons himself faster and faster inside of you, rocking your bodies against the mattress which makes your wooden headboard tap noisily against your drywall.

You fear your neighbours may have some… less than pleasant words to share with you about the noise tomorrow morning. 

“Ah! Fuuucking— shit!” You wail. Euphoric tears start prickling at the corner of your eyes. “Don’t stop, please!”

The pleasure melts through you when Satoru presses down harder into you, his hand finding the back of your right knee and hikes your leg around his waist so that he can fill you at a new angle.

“Baby,” he murmurs into your neck. He says it like you’ve been his for years. “Say my name.”

“S—Satoru!”

Laughing a little, probably too fucked out of his mind, Satoru removes his face from your neck and presses a hot, searing kiss onto your lips.

You yelp when he drives his cock more harshly into you, growing more desperate with the urgency to come inside you.

Riding his high, Satoru says the first thing that comes to mind, which is a long drawn-out, “Haaa…”

What Satoru meant to accomplish was to wish you another ‘Happy Birthday’, but of course, it all gets garbled up in his throat due to his approaching orgasm and comes out sounding fucking obscene.

That’s what gets you.

You come hard, your back bowing off the bed. Satoru, remembering your initial statement about how you trust him to pull out, does exactly that. Albeit, he did it at the very last second, but you avoided a pregnancy scare. So you can’t be mad.

Thick ropes of his cum splash across your bare belly and some get on your top. You’re hyperaware of how it trickles down your abdomen, some dipping into your belly button.

Wow.

Breathing hard and heavy, both coated in sweat among… other sensual fluids, Satoru rolls onto his back.

“Stuck with me for life, huh?” he asks, delicate fingers intertwined with yours. 

You hum. “Seems so…” you agree quietly. 

Now that you think about it, there hasn’t ever been a moment where Gojo Satoru hadn’t been present in your life, ever since meeting him during your high school days.

You two lay like that for some time, soaking in each other’s company until the early traces of morning light ripple through your curtains.

You’re about ready to shut your eyes until your thoughts are accosted by something you offhandedly forgot. 

“Satoru?” you begin, tone nice and sweet.

“Hm?”

You sit up slowly so you can peer down at his blissed-out face. “By chance, was the cake you got for me made out of ice cream?”

You know how deep his love for sweets goes. You just pray and hope to whatever higher power that he chose the safe route and chose a normal ca—

“…Yeah, why?”

Jumping out of bed, you rush to the living room where the cake is probably spilling its guts out all over your expensive, mahogany coffee table. “You IDIOT!” 

A string of curses follows you out into the hallway, as Satoru sits on your bed confused.

“What’d I do?!”

Whether you liked it or not, you were stuck with this bumbling idiot if he had any say in the matter, an invisible string keeping you two bound.

And maybe it wasn’t that bad.

Even if it’s at the cost of your ¥20,000 table.

if you read to the end we're making out.

© do not copy/plagiarize/translate/use ai on my work.

[cookiiehuh]

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.

[cookiiehuh]

Gojo headcannons hahahahh

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

[cookiiehuh]

This was pretty good, right? 😖

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.