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hoshigray · 1 year

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MAPPA gave Nanami such beautiful hands that they never fail to make you feel things.

a/n: Bye, the trailer JUST came out, and I can't get over how good they made Nanami, so I'm writing out this to put myself together. @satoruhour pushed me on to write this so ty swee-T-pie, love u sm 💓 this is just like when they released that hidden inventory trailer and i drooled over Toji's hands help 💀 so yeah this is just me writing a short smthn for kento's hands, sorry not sorry. also tysm for 1.9k!!!

cw: Nanami x fem/afab! reader - first soft then smutty, so minors DNI - h@nd h0lding - soft dom! Nanami bc yes - fingering (f! receiving) - hand kink (ig?) - fingers in reader's mouth - pet names (angel, love, sweet girl) - praise - clitoral play - you and Nanami in a cute domestic relationship ♡

wc: 950

You love Kento Nanami's hands. It's no secret to yourself because it's the truth. But you can't blame yourself; you can't help it! There are so many moments with him where you can't help but admire the man's big hands, and honestly, it's embarrassing at this point. It's a guilty pleasure that makes you feel such pleasant emotions, makes you want him more and more.

Even before the two of you expressed courtship, there were days when you'd encounter and have idle chitchat with the stoic man, and those were days that were hard to go through when you had such a tremendous crush on the guy. So much so that you'd drift your gaze away from his feline mocha eyes masked by his eyepiece. Instead, you'd look at his hands, admiring how beautiful and big they are. Aside from his face, they were the only thing visible from his dapper suit. Not that you complained, though. The more you saw and talked with Nanami, the more you marveled at his hands in your thoughts.

And when you two finally started dating, things were going slow and steady. Just as the two of you wanted — no rush at all. But a memory you hold dear to your heart was when the two of you walked home in the cold winter. The chilly breeze sent shivers down your spine, and your nose found breathing tricky in the extreme temperature change. Not to mention you forgot your mittens at home. Just my luck...

However, it wasn't all that bad. After all, your boyfriend (it felt a little weird calling him that) offered to walk you to your place, sticking close to your side, which was a rarity back then. Heat finally found its way up to your cold cheeks when Nanami took the initiative to grab ahold of your hand with his, the size difference making it easy to exchange warmth. "Here," he said so nonchalantly it almost felt like a dream. "Don't want the wind to blow you off the sidewalk." It was such an airy gag from the usually silent man, yet you chuckled and held his hand tighter, the cold overlooked throughout the rest of the walk.

Even watching him doing the most ordinary things is a sight. Whether he's washing dishes, making the bed, or cutting vegetables for the next meal he was cooking for you two, your eyes would always find their way to his deft hands. Rugged palms moving swiftly and gracefully, veins that stem from the back trail upwards to his forearm, and thick fingers with scars so faded with time that you'd have to be very close to see them. You're so in love with him — with his hands. They make you feel safe and secure, warm and loved. Specifically in times when you two are close to each other. Whether it's you resting on his chest as he reads a book while rubbing circles on your back or holding hands with you two walking around the vicinity, it couldn't get any better.

...Well, perhaps now as you're lying on the bed with your back to his chest, succumbing to his touch as one hand cups your cheeks while the other burrows inside your panties — his fingers intruding between your folds and playing with your leaky entrance staining the underwear with your come.

"Ooooh, Kentooo..." You moan to his thick digits in your vulva, scraping your spongey walls that result in high wails. He rubs your cheeks and maneuvers your face to the side so he can lay kisses on your neck, and you melt under his lips with a blissful hum.

"Open your legs a bit more for me, angel." His command is hushed to your ears. You follow his instructions and spread your legs further apart, and he rewards you with another finger added to your chasm. Now both the fore and middle digits slide deep into you, and the brush of his thumb on your clit results in sudden wails. "Good, that's my sweet girl."

His fingers graze your insides expertly, having you writhe on him with how good he's making you feel with just his fingers alone. The speed of his digits increases by the second, and you can feel the wave start rising in your body. Your body jolts with every scrape of his fingertips, pornographic whines fly out your mouth, and your face gets hotter and hotter.

"Haaaah!! Mmnnn...Kento, I'm so close. 'S so close, I'm—Mmmph!?" You don't get to finish that sentence when Nanami stuffs his free fingers into your mouth, your tongue immediately coating the two digits with your saliva.

"Go on, come on me, love." His sweet words were what it took for everything to come crashing down, the fingers in your cunt quicken in pace, and his thumb flicking on your clitoris — causing you to grab onto his forearm. Scratching the clothed limb and heavy pants drawing inward, your cunt clamps around on his fingers as your orgasm comes to pull you in for a euphoric release.

And Nanami lets your body experience the shocks on top of him, laying precious kisses on your temple and cheeks. He slowly removes his digits from your satisfied cunt with a whimper from your puffy lips. "Did so well like always, angel." In your daze, you still share a smile and welcome his lips on yours.

Like you said before — Nanami's hands are your guilty pleasure in more ways than one. And it feels so good to know he reciprocates those desires with mutual love. If such a gorgeous and attentive man can have you under him with just his sheer touch, then so be it.

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creative-crybaby · 9 months

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Knots

PAIRING: masseur!Geto Suguru x fem!reader

GENRE: no curses!au | smut (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: fingering, nipple play, semi-public sex/exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), brief masturbation (m), size kink, praise kink, cum eating, light mentions of/brief marking

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

SUMMARY: With so much stress piling up on you, Geto was kind enough to offer you a massage. Unfortunately, no amount of relaxation can distract you from the sexual tension between you and your friend.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: MAPPA can't draw jjk characters like that and expect me not to write smut about em 🙄also: HAPPY NEW YEARS, LOVELIES <3333

“Are you sure this is okay?” It’s too late to ask him that, but you couldn’t stop the question from leaving your lips. “I’d hate for you to get in trouble.”

Your face burns as silence follows; you can only thank whatever gods above for him not being able to see your expression.

“I won’t tell if you won’t tell,” he chuckles, and you copy the sound nervously, unsure if he is serious. After a pregnant pause, he adds, “I’m kidding. You have nothing to worry about.” Your peripheral vision catches him moving around you to get to the cabinet. “Consider it a favour from a friend.”

You hear the cabinet door open and shut, and you shift from your spot face down on the table.

“At least let me pay you back somehow,” you press, pouting.

“That defeats the point of a favour, doesn’t it?” Geto’s footsteps get louder until you catch sight of his shoes from the corner of your eye. There’s another pause, this one longer than the previous one. “Are you comfortable with me unclapsing your bra?” Before you can answer, he quickly continues, “It can stay on like you wanted, I just need the straps out of the way.”

If you aren’t hyping yourself up to take every opportunity to get closer to the masseur, you’re second-guessing your decision to take his offer. Should he follow through with the action, it would only be the beginning of something far more intimate. And you know this. You knew this. Even when Geto first suggested the idea after you opened up about your piling stress and even when you foolishly thought asking Gojo for advice on the offer was a good idea.

But you’re here now, aren’t you?

“Go for it,” you try to mask whatever uneasiness you can. Gentle fingers tug at the clips at the end of your bra, disconnecting them and allowing the straps to drop. Even with your chest still covered, you feel bare, the cool air tickling the newly exposed area. You have to force yourself from shivering.

“You still like the scent of lavender?” Geto's question catches you off-guard, raising your head from the cushion, not realizing that he recalled such a minor detail. Your silence makes the ravenette turn to you again, offering his easy-going smile. “Or have your tastes changed?”

You nod mindlessly, blinking up at him. “Lavender’s good.”

Geto hums before searching through his cabinet, taking several seconds to find the bottle he was looking for. You rest your head back on the cushion before he can catch you staring.

“I’ll be starting now.” The sound of a bottle cap opening follows your friend’s words. “If you’re ever uncomfortable, don’t hesitate to let me know. Otherwise, just lay back and relax.”

Despite his gentle voice, following his order becomes easier said than done once his large hands come in contact with your back, the oil adding to his skin’s warmth. You bit your lip, the serene scent of lavender reaching your olfactory as the masseur works his magic on your stress.

You don’t realize how exhausted your body has felt until Geto applies pressure for the first time, and you cringe.

“Easy, easy,” he soothes, pausing his ministrations once you try to relax your body. “Wow, you are stressed.”

You allow your body to sink further into the table’s mattress when his soft laughter reaches your ears, and you give him the go-ahead to continue. Fingerpads return to your skin, rubbing heavy yet sturdy circles onto your back, untying any and every knot trapping your muscles. You can feel your body fall limp, drowning heavily while at the same time floating into the heavens as every evidence of exhaustion disappears from you.

Still, even as you try to keep your mind blank and enjoy the moment, you can’t help but notice how much space Geto’s hand takes up on your back. It doesn’t help that they creep up to your neck, more than ready to push the problems away from that area.

“So,” you trail off, feeling the need to fill the silence rather than embrace it, “You give these massages to Ieiri or Satoru?”

The ravenette chuckles. “If you’d call the occasional shoulder rub a proper massage, then sure.”

A memory of the four of you at a local diner pops into your head, Shoko telling Geto a shoulder massage was the least she deserved after all the all-nighters she’s suffered through. You giggled, watching the medical student melt under the masseur’s magic touch, ignoring the twinge of jealousy that prodded your mind.

You quip. “Not even a full-body one? Ieiri’s the one who deserves it the most out of us.”

“Guess she just never has the time for one,” he hums.

“And Satoru?”

Geto snickers, pausing his actions. You join in on the laughter, a small swell of pride blooming in your chest.

Your joy is cut short when he resumes the massage, adding pressure to a specific area below the nape of your neck that forces a whimper out of you. You freeze, hoping the masseur didn’t hear it. But with how his hold on you paused, even for just a moment, you couldn’t deceive yourself into believing you were in the clear.

“Sorry,” you squeak, the warmth from your face expanding to the rest of your body. Could he feel it?

You can hear the smile in his voice. “So tense, aren’t you?”

You don’t miss the octave drop in his voice, biting your tongue. Geto returns to work, his fingers digging into your skin and untying whatever knots your muscles carried for who knows how long. You allow yourself to sigh at the sensation, your brows knitting together from the pressure without the discomfort.

His hands travel lower, returning to previous areas with added strength until he reaches the small of your back. You try not to tense upon feeling his fingers graze the towel covering your bottom, but you can’t prevent the shaky moan from escaping your lips once his hold shifts to your hips.

Another pause from him: another apology from you.

“Nothing for you to be sorry about.” Your friend assures you, though you barely miss the light strain in his tone. “I’ll be working on your legs next, okay?”

You hum lightly, shifting from your spot as he passes what the towel covers. Your thoughts wander before you can put them on a leash, the pang of disappointment from the neglect of that area allowing your imagination to drift.

Would a massage there even feel good? Geto would undoubtedly find a way, his large hands practically blanketing each cheek. And his fingers—God, they were the stars of the show, finding the spots that needed the most attention and pushing every bit of tension out of your worn-out body. You’re confident his digits would be just as adventurous in other places.

You feel yourself clench around nothing and fear the handsome man above you possibly noticing. Shaking your head, you hope those thoughts fly out like fleas.

Geto stops. “Too much?”

“Hm?” You snap out of your daze. “Oh, no. I’m fine.”

The masseur’s hands glide up to your upper thighs, and you freeze, his hold remaining in place as he leans closer to your head.

“You don’t have to go through with this if you don’t like it,” he says, his voice calm. “I can return the favour some other way.”

Your body moves before your brain can command it to. Or rather, stop it from doing so. Hastily, you raise your head from the cushion, your upper torso following suit as it twists to face your friend.

“I can take it.”

Silence. Too much of it for your liking. It has your stomach churning and your heart ramming against your ribs. Maybe it’s the heaviness in your body that follows you getting up too quickly, or your word choice. It could also be how Geto stares at you with parted lips, his eyes on you but not meeting your gaze.

Instead of further embarrassing yourself by speaking, you follow his focus, only to wish you hadn’t.

Your bra, long forgotten by you, barely hangs onto your body by its straps by your elbows, exposing your back as well as most of your chest. The lavender scent is no longer soothing, the heat on your face is dizzying, and you’d want nothing more than to run out the door if only your legs weren’t practically limp from your friend’s treatment. It doesn’t help that his hold on the back of your upper thighs hasn’t budged. If anything, it’s tightened, his grip making your clit jump.

You suppose you spoke too soon once the warmth of Geto’s touch disappeared from your legs, the masseur having moved to reach for your bra straps to pull them back up to your shoulders before you could process his actions. You blink, eyes trailing up to his face now adorning a rosy hue and soft lips pressed into a thin line. He’s so much closer, his breath barely fanning the top of your head. And if you aren’t forcing your gaze to meet his, you’re impulsively glancing back at his mouth.

With so much focus on the beautiful man, you don’t catch him slowly but surely leaning in.

The last discernable thing you catch is Geto’s lidded eyes darkening before he presses his lips against yours.

You don’t breathe. You forget to, just like how you leave your mouth slightly agape and your eyes wide open.

The ravenette pulls away quicker than he’d leaned in, and the corners of your lips twitch downwards. His brows furrow as he looks at you with a brighter flush on his handsome face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

No. You won’t let him regret his actions, not for your sake.

The sudden shift in perspective is alarming when, only moments ago, you feared ruining your relationship with your friend. Now, you’re shifting to sit on the massage table, grabbing Geto by his shirt collar, tugging him forward and slamming his lips onto yours. You groan at the impact, relaxing only a second later once he returns the kiss with just as much hunger.

But he’s still not close enough. His hold remains on your bra straps, making it harder for you to wrap your arms around his neck. It’s the only reason you pull back, locking eyes with him as you place your hands on his.

“Suguru,” you pant, chest heaving for air as your lids droop. Your following words stay trapped in your throat, the masseur having slid his hold higher up your shoulders to bring you back to the kiss. You squeak, the fervour behind his actions far more evident as his tongue teases your lower lip. He groans into your mouth, his thumbs caressing your skin as you invite him in, eager to have him even closer.

Your hands are still on top of Geto’s, you remember, and you slide his down your arms while he’s distracted by the kiss. (With how he’s swirling his tongue around yours, you aren’t sure you can call it a “kiss” anymore.)

You pull back hastily, not missing the string of saliva connecting your bottom lips before motioning for him to look down. His sharp eyes do so, blinking out of his haze as he sees how the cups of your bra no longer cover your breasts. You don’t recall when you stopped caring about your face burning like it was on fire, the pride in your chest and lust in your lower belly now the dominant sensations as he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful creature on the planet.

“Please,” he gulps, an unmissable strain in his voice. “Let me taste you.”

Even after the lewd makeout session, his words left your mouth cotton-dry. You can only kiss him again, guiding his hands to cup your breasts, your bra sliding off your arms.

When Geto pulls back, his lips reattach to your skin, trailing down your neck to the valley of your mounds. He lightly pushes you to lie down on the table, making yourself comfortable before plopping one of your nipples into his mouth, the other one between his fingers. Your own hands loosen his hair from its bun, the strands falling gracefully onto his broad back. They’re as soft as they look, your fingers streaming through the midnight locks like water past the pebbles in the river.

The masseur switches his treatment, the other nipple now teased by the grazing of his teeth while his large hand keeps the second breast from neglect. Your body feels hot, and the warmth of his mouth does little to soothe the issue. But with how much you’ve been rubbing your thighs together, you’d hardly consider this a problem now.

Your hands remain in his hair as Geto continues kissing down your body, stopping just at the apex of your thigh to peer at you with those dark pools for irises. One of his hands removes the towel from your lap, revealing your thin shorts underneath. He tugs at the waistband, silently asking for your permission. Your response consists of your hips rising from the table, and he’s quick to shimmy your remaining clothes off your body, stealing another passionate kiss from you in the process.

“I want nothing more than to hear every sound I get out of you,” your friend (can you still call him that?) pants, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards and his face flushed as he watches your reaction through hooded lids. You lean in, chasing his lips for another kiss. He stops you with a finger, and you hold back the whine squeaking from your throat. He chuckles. “But I’m going to need you to keep your voice down. Can you do that for me?”

You almost forgot that you’re in a public setting, even with the privacy of a closed door. Geto warmly smiles when you nod, and he lowers himself to face your crotch, helping you shift to let your legs dangle off the table. You find his eyes widening upon catching sight of your bare cunt already drooling your essence. The ravenette exhales shakily before planting a kiss on your clit, making you twitch. Your reaction makes him chuckle, and he licks long strips against your slit, moaning through his languid movements.

“What was that about being quiet?” You giggle breathily, leaning your weight on your hands. Geto pauses.

“Sorry, beautiful,” he whispers with a smile, tightening his hold on your thighs. “You taste like a dream.”

You throw your head back as your eyes flutter shut, his words and continued ministrations between your legs setting your body ablaze and your mind blank. It doesn’t help that he’s practically encouraging you to cage him tightly between your thighs, squeezing his head in place as he makes out with your cunt. Your hips grind into his touch, moving in tandem with his soft lips and warm tongue.

Even with his sensual movements, you can tell he’s holding back, if his tight hold on the fat of your thighs is any indication. Your hips grind into his touch, allowing him permission to feast on you how he’d like, gripping a fistful of his locks for further encouragement. And the masseur seems to have gotten the message, his tongue digging inside you while his nose nudges at your pearl.

Holding back your sounds of pleasure is already a challenge—warning the handsome male beneath you of your oncoming release doesn’t even seem possible, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as the sensation in your lower belly grows stronger.

And maybe Geto doesn’t need you to tell him. Or maybe, he’s just so lost in the taste of your essence that he’s decided to wrap his soft lips around your puffy clit and suck, the tip of his tongue flicking at the nub at the same time. Whatever the case, his actions do the trick, your hold on his head tightening as your legs shake while your jaw falls slack. The ravenette doesn’t falter, pushing himself closer to your cunt, his mouth working its magic and creating sounds that would embarrass you if it weren’t for the ringing in your ears.

Coming down from the high, plus the massage, has you losing your hold on yourself. Luckily for you, Geto quickly rises from his spot, catching you by the waist and pulling you into another kiss with a soft groan. Your taste on your tongue and the need for air make you dizzy, but you bring him closer regardless.

“‘M sorry,” he pants after ending the kiss, his chin shining with your slick. “Just had to show you how good you taste.”

You can only whimper in response, feathering kisses on his lips as you play with his hair. Geto happily lets you, his large hands mapping your torso and thighs as if burning every curve into his memory.

“Didn’t know this came with the free massage,” you mumble against his mouth, holding back a smile.

“There’s plenty more where that came from,” he purrs, moving you back down on your stomach like you weigh nothing. You hear the rustling of clothing, and before you can ask him what he’s doing, you feel a weight hovering over your figure. Familiar, large hands splay open on either side of your head while muscular thighs cage your legs in place. “Do you trust me?”

Something pokes your lower back, and you almost forget to answer with the masseur’s hot breath against your ear. You lift your hips to grind against his crotch with a whimper, hoping that’ll be more than enough for him.

Your actions make Geto laugh, and he teasingly nibbles at your earlobe. “Use your words, darling.”

It doesn’t help that he’s taken his tip to glide across your slit, collecting your juices as a lubricant. You twist your head to face him, one of your hands gripping on the cushion above you as a distraction.

“I’ve been waiting a lot longer for this moment than you know,” you confess meekly, watching as the ravenette’s eyes widen and lips part from your words. “And I don’t think I can keep it up any longer.”

You worry you’ve revealed too much too soon when you’re met with silence. But when that familiar smile and soft gaze grace Geto’s features, the nerves fluttering in your stomach evaporate.

The handsome male presses a kiss against your temple. “That makes two of us, then.”

With only a few seconds to register his confession, your heart does a doubletake before you feel Geto lead his cock into your heat, his hand gripping yours as reassurance. The subtly painful stretch that follows suit makes you grateful for the gesture, your insides splitting in half as he just keeps going in. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, feeling every vein graze against you.

The masseur notices, it seems, and he whispers encouraging words in your ear, giving you the occasional kiss on your shoulder.

“There you go,” he drawls quietly, his crotch meeting your ass. “Nice and full, aren’t you?”

You exhale shakily, feeling his strong chest pressed against your back. On rare occasions, when Geto wears tight-fitting shirts, you’re blessed with the sight of his chiselled physique, especially his back, since he can’t catch you ogling. The chance to leave your mark there, like an artist’s signature on a painted canvas, is one you’ve longed for. However, with the knot in your belly ready to snap without having him even move makes you grateful for the current position. Maybe next time you’ll get to see all of him.

Next time.

“Can I move, darling?” Geto's breath tickles your skin. “I’m afraid I won’t last too long with how you’re squeezing me.”

The almost boyish giggle he breathes out has your heart rocketing in your ribs. Your affirmation comes out weak, but the masseur hears it loud and clear. He reels his hips back, but it’s when he buries his shaft back into you that you feel your eyes roll back once more. Your jaw falls open, a moan slipping out as he sets a languid yet deep pace.

“We need to keep quiet, remember?” Geto shushes, his face buried in your neck. “My massages are good, but even outsiders might grow suspicious if you’re too loud.”

His soft laughter mixes with your pleading whine. “You’re not making it easy for me.”

The ravenette halts his movements, much to your dismay. Even with you wiggling your hips, he doesn't budge, and you’re about to ask him about the holdup before he beats you to it.

“You think it’s easy for me?” The soothing lilt of his voice is long gone, replaced with a low timbre that has you clenching around his girth. “I’ve got you milking me for all I’m worth, and we barely started. What do you think that does to me?”

You feel his teeth graze your skin, making you shiver as you try to regain friction between your legs. Geto's stronger than you, much stronger, and your movements don’t make him budge.

With a quivering sigh, you prop yourself on your forearms, and he retracts from his hiding spot in your neck. You face him, lids hanging low on your eyes and face warmer than it should be.

“Show me.”

With a smirk, Geto pulls himself out until only his tip remains before slamming back into you. You choke on a gasp, his pace and strength relentless as his hips slap against your ass, the sounds bouncing off the walls. You can’t even call him out on his hypocrisy as you bury your face into the table, hoping it’ll help mask your cries.

It doesn’t, of course. But Geto Suguru, ever the gentleman, carefully lifts your head by your neck and, while hovering over you, slams his lips against yours. The position isn’t the most comfortable, but you don’t find yourself complaining as he rams into you, filling you up and moulding your insides into the shape of his cock.

Your eyes don’t know what to do, from squeezing shut to crossing. At one point, you catch the door in your peripheral vision, and the thought of potentially getting caught has you clenching, your hand reaching for the masseur’s bicep and digging your nails into his pale skin.

Geto grunts. “You trying to make me cum, beautiful?”

His playful tone makes you whine, his pace never faltering as he sneaks one of his hands under you to grope one of your breasts. The toying of your nipple, along with the male’s relentless thrusts, fuels the coil in your belly, and what does the trick is him leaving his mark on your neck.

With a drawn-out gasp, your body stills, toes curling and tongue lolling out as your pussy convulses. You hardly notice Geto’s strokes growing sloppy, his whispered cursing going in one ear and out the other. Having him lead you to heaven is plenty for you.

Once you calm down, though, you feel like he’s pulled out too soon. You groan, your ears catching the light sounds of him shuffling from his spot above you, followed by a rapid squelching noise that has you peeking over your shoulder.

There, in all his naked glory, is Geto stroking his cock, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and eyes zeroed in on your figure.

“Shit, shit—” he cuts himself off with a gasp, ropes of cum shooting from his slit and landing on the back of your thighs. The sight alone has you clenching, the need for him inside you arising once more. “Oh, fuck—”

Anyone would grow angry at a mess thrown at them. You’re no different, just worse (the one time Gojo accidentally made you ruin your eyeliner is more than enough proof—the poor fool).

And yet, having painted your thighs white by Geto, his seed clinging to your oily (and now sweaty) skin, you somehow find yourself falling for him more.

“Suguru,” you slur, your eyelids fluttering as you allow your body to slump back onto the table. You feel his weight disappear before hearing footsteps grow louder. Through tired eyes, you’re face-to-face with his crotch, causing you to squeak as your upper body jolts up again.

“Sorry, sorry,” the masseur chuckles, crouching to meet you at eye level. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The atmosphere returns to the comforting one his work ought to bring, though a part of you finds yourself fidgety. The ravenette wipes away the evidence with a wet towel, and it’s enough to keep you in place and relaxed as he continues to take care of you.

Once done, he helps you sit up, keeping you steady as your legs dangle off the table.

“I think you fucked the bones out of me,” you croak, and Geto pauses midway from sliding your underwear back up your legs. He laughs a soft, boyish laugh, the melody bringing a smile to your lips and a warmth of embarrassment to your cheeks. “Is this what you had in mind by doing me a favour?”

He pecks your nose before resuming dressing you. “No, but I’m not complaining with the results.”

You hum, and the silence returns as he aids you with the rest of your clothes.

It isn’t until he’s slipping his boxers back on that you speak again. “You don’t give this kind of special treatment to the others?”

A witless, little joke on your part, though your tone didn’t match. Maybe it was the exhaustion that took charge or a sliver of self-consciousness that needed assurance that you had him all to yourself. Still, you press your lips into a thin line, awaiting his answer.

“To our friends or my clients?” he inquires, putting on the remainder of his clothes. “Either way, the answer’s no.” When you don’t say anything else, he approaches you, nudging his nose against yours. “Did you want me to?”

Your head snaps up to meet his amused gaze. “No!”

Geto's joking smile eases into a sincere one, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and embracing you.

“Perfect,” he breathes, pressing his lips to your temple. “Guess that means you’re the only one who gets my special treatment.” A pause, followed by a sheepish giggle. “As long as we do it outside of my job. I’d like to keep it, you know.”

From your position, you peer over his shoulder to where the door stands a few meters away, shut and locked but keeping you in suspense. With heat bubbling in your face, you hide in the crook of his neck.

“You technically never finished my massage,” you mumble against his skin, your hands tracing any muscle it can reach on his back. Geto pulls back from the hug, jutting his bottom lip as if pondering.

“I suppose you’re right,” he hums before another smile breaks onto his features. “Shall we continue back at my place, then?”

#fanfic #fanfiction #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #geto smut #geto x reader #smut

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korebringerofded · 1 year

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"Awe...You Cryin, Princess?" Satoru Gojo X F!Reader

Description- Most of the time, Satoru Gojo was the sweetest boyfriend a girl could ever ask for. Other times, he would pull your hair while he fucked into you from behind, your face shoved into his plush sheets as his hard dick fucked into your already cum-filled pussy. Words- 1k Warnings- Unedited as fuck yall, might edit later, I hate my writing so much rn, breaks suck, so much smut, MAPPA really got me going lol, SMUT SMUT, Use of princess, mean!Gojo, Oral(F), very little plot

A/N- Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated and keep me going All requests are open and you can find my entire masterlist here.

Most of the time, Satoru Gojo was the sweetest boyfriend a girl could ever ask for. Most of the time, he spoiled you rotten, would take you shopping and just gorge you on presents and kisses and attention. He would watch you try on everything in the store if you wanted, his eyes wide and a big grin on his face as he analyzed each and every outfit.

He would be so sweet when you made love, making you cum on his fingers and mouth until you’re begging him to fuck you. He would caress your face and plant soft kisses down your throat as his thumb moved slowly over your already swollen clit. He knew each and every spot to touch or kiss or lick to send you over the edge.

Other times, he would pull your hair while he fucked into you from behind, your face shoved into his plush sheets as his hard dick fucked into your already cum-filled pussy. Satoru’s previous hot white cum still spilling out over the sheets as he fucked you for the fifth time that day.

“You think I’m even close to being done with you, princess?”

He hissed in your ear, tugging a handful of your hair back to pull your back flush against his chest, his dick still drilling into your soaked cunt as his hand wrapped around your throat so he could properly fuck into you until you were a sobbing mess, a mixture of his cum and your slick spilling down your thighs.

Tonight, however, Satoru had convinced you to come out to the bar with him and a few of the other teachers from Jujutsu High. Satoru, of course, looked very handsome in his casual clothes, a tight black button up shirt that hugged his bulging muscles and tight dress-pants that you were positive you could see the outline of his dick through.

You and Satoru had a bad habit of leaving functions particularly early or disappearing at them because you couldn’t keep your hands out of the other's pants. So, you wanted to try and get through one social gathering without Satoru fucking you in the front seat of his car or eating you out in the bathroom at the bar. His bright eyes glossy and half-open, never leaving your wonderful tear-stained face as he holds you against the wall, your own hand clasped over your mouth. Your hot slick running down his chin as he whispered filthy things against your adorable pink pussy.

For a while, you managed to contain yourself. You were determined to keep this night PG since Satoru’s coworkers would be there. There would always be time for other things when you got home. At least that is what you tried to tell yourself.

He just looked so handsome like this, his hair down and perfectly messy, his glimmering crystal-like eyes, that boyish grin. The way he had his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and his muscular pale arms were on display just sent heat right to your already soaked thighs.

You loved every single part of your boyfriend, how could you not?

You hadn’t realized how long you had been staring at him, your eyes trailing down from his handsome face and then back to his arms until you felt Satoru cupping your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he brought your eyes back to his striking ones.

“Something on your mind, princess?” Satoru asked, a tilt of his head that made his messy white hair ruffle as he looked down at you with a widening smirk.

Shit…he caught me staring at him. You thought to yourself.

“No.” You said too quickly, clearing your throat.

You were hoping Satoru wouldn’t notice the embarrassingly furious blush spreading over your face or the way you rubbed your thighs together when he spoke.

He did, of course he did.

You swallowed hard and tried to ignore the increasing wetness soaking through your panties.

You ordered another drink, hoping it would help, it wouldn’t.

You knew that Satoru was just messing with you when you felt his fingertips run delicately over the surface of your bare thighs and up your dress, pushing the hem up. The action sent goosebumps all over your body and you turned to shoot Satoru a glare, your face heating up all over again. Satoru was already staring right at you, a smirk on his annoyingly handsome face and one elbow on the table as his cheek rested in his palm.

You could almost taste the mint from his breath from how close he was and it almost made your knees buckle then and there. Satoru just had that effect on you and the worst part of all…was that he was completely aware of it.

“Satoru…” You warned, a huff leaving your lips.

‘What?” Satoru asked with a huge innocent grin on his face.

“Don’t play dumb.” You groaned, a pout tugging on your lips.

“Am I not allowed to touch my girl now?” Satoru asked mockingly, a mischievous glint in his eye.

I want you to do more than touch me, you jerk.

Satoru made it a point to torment you the rest of the night, soft brushes against your thighs, a soft kiss on that soft part of your neck that just makes you squirm. As he stands at the bar, his arm draped around your hip and as he carries on a conversation with Shoko, his hand trailed down your back. His fingertips dragging up and down your spine through the fabric of the thin dress you wore and sending jolts of electricity down your spine.

You really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was getting to you, that all you wanted was to feel his expert hands over your body,

When you got back to the apartment you two shared, Satoru couldn’t help but chuckle when he noticed the way you were looking up at him, big glossy eyes, you were expecting something. But tonight, Satoru was in the mood to be a bit mean to his little princess, for just a little longer at least.

Satoru kicked off his shoes and tossed his car keys on the counter before he moved closer to you, his hand reaching up to tuck a strand piece of your hair away from your adorable blushing face.

“Hm? You want something, princess?” Satoru asked with a grin as he knelt down so your eyes met with his crystals-like ones.

You didn’t know if you wanted to kiss him or slap him. Both

“No.” You huffed stubbornly, puffing your cheeks out and crossing your arms over your chest.

“No? I figured the way you were eye-fucking me that you might want something.” Satoru said with a smirk as he took a step forward, his arms trapping you against the wall as your heart started to beat rapidly in your chest.

“I was-.” You started to say before he pressed his finger to your soft lips with a dark laugh.

“You lyin’ to me now, princess? I thought you were supposed to be my good girl?” Satoru said with an almost mocking fake hurt voice.

“N-no, toru’.” You whispered, your voice wavering as your boyfriend towered over you, his hands slipping under the edge of your dress and his finger hooking under the edge of your panties so he could tug them down your thighs so they pooled on the ground.

“Fucking knew it..” He snorted.

He was pushing your dress up your hips as he lowered himself to his knees now, his face pressed against your already dripping cunt. His eyes staring hungrily as another dark laugh left him, his fingers brushed up your thighs and against your slick pussy. His index finger pushed and rubbed against your folds and against your already puffy clit as he pinned your hips to the wall, one of your legs over his shoulder.

“Haven’t even touched you and look at how wet you are…” Satoru cooed, pressing a kiss to your thigh while he started to tease the entrance of your pussy with his fingers, curling them just slightly into your hot plush walls that clenched desperately around him before he took them away again.

“Tell me what you want.” Satoru hummed, pressing another soft kiss to your thigh but this time he sank his teeth into the plush flesh with a snicker.

You could only whine and pout in response, tears forming in your eyes.

‘Please…” You whined, tugging on his messy white hair with twitching fingers,

“Please what?” Satoru asked, his tongue poking out of his mouth and delicately running up your thigh, around your folds and dancing right around where you actually wanted him.

Damn him damn him damn him.

“P-please, toru’. Need to cum, need to cum on your tongue.” You blurted out, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Awe…well when you ask all sweet like that…” He said with a grin, quite pleased with himself as he immediately leaned forward.

Satoru carried you to the bedroom after that, your dress and the rest of your clothes gone and forgotten. Satoru had buried his face into your pussy, his tongue flicking your throbbing clit back and forth for a moment before he would suck audibly on the bundle of nerves and then repeat, you could feel your own slick running down your thighs but you couldn’t care less.

Satoru’s mouth was heaven, he was eager and skilled, it was a bit of a deadly combination. He would happily die between your thighs.

“Ah- F-fuck, toru’, so close.” You stammered, tears running down your face, your eyebrows knitting together as you leaned your head back against the wall, Satoru let out an audible groan at your sweet taste, he wanted to swallow every drop of your sweet desire, all for him.

“Yeah?” Satoru asked.

He pulled away just long enough so he could shove two of his fingers deep into your pussy before curling them to press against that soft gummy part of your walls that only made you writhe and whimper under him before his lips were wrapped around your clit again and he sucked, his tongue tracing over you until he heard your lewd sobs and felt your nails digging into his scalp.

Your vision went white, all the air left your lungs and drool dripped from the corner of your mouth as Satoru swallowed every drop of your desire for him with complete joy, his face pink and your slick coating his chin as he pulled away, looking up at you with a smirk, his head leaning against your thigh.

“Awe…you crying, princess?”

Please do not copy, use my work, or put it through AI without my permission or I'll be really sad about it!!

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animehouse-moe · 11 months

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Anti-War Manga Recommendations

Yeah, not quite on my bingo card for today, but a bit of an insane statement to find. I'd say I can't believe it, but almost every company out there can be bought, bribed, or bullied into this sort of presence, so I'll leave my thoughts at it being pathetic and dangerous.

Anyways, considering the sheer stupidity and brazenness of this entirely heartless idea, I wanted to bring attention to some manga that speak in depth towards anti-war sentiments, largely focusing on Japan's experience with WWII.

Okinawa - Susumu Higa

This is probably the most unique title on this list, in my opinion. Okinawa, as the name implies, is a manga detailing the lives and collective conscious of the Okinawa people in two parts: the first showing their lives and interactions during the storming of the Okinawa islands as Japan fights against the Americans, and the second is the post-war experiences placed against the ever present American occupation.

Don't get it wrong, this story is about war, but before that it's about how people live under the shadow of war. How people fear for their lives, how they leave people behind, how they demonize one another for their own survival, how tradition and culture collapse for the sake of survival. But also how a people rebuild their history, how they exist under occupation, how they fall prey to American greed. It's a story that tells of not the experience of an individual or even a community, but of a singular conscious that comprises the Okinawa islands during the era. It's a very strong and emotional story despite its relative detachment from the imagery of war.

F - Arata Imai

In the middle of Japan, a three party front breaks out into an effective war, and a British reporter appears, attempting to make a "big scoop" in the midst of the horror and tragedy.

F is a... terrible manga. Terrible in the sense that it's hard to experience because of its brutality and truth. It's a manga that paints the picture of the West's imaginary "rehabilitation" of Japan post-WWII and melds it together with their "War on Terror", placing the English lead character as the figurehead of the "good" countries.

In actuality, it is one terrible depiction of war after another, built atop the backdrop of the terrible Fukushima meltdown and Touhoku tsunami, combined with the conception of the Syrian civil war and Isis. The icing on this hellish cake being the existence of a terrorist organization, and the reporter's name being John Cantile, who then goes on to create propaganda for the organization F.

There's not really a way to explain the horror associated with this story as it brings the disaster and destruction of Japan in 2011 alongside the pathetic fantasy of an English-speaking rule over Japan. But I think the imagery of endless destruction while someone prattles on about it "being a good, positive change for the people" under occupation does a good job of illustrating Imai's desire to spit in the face of America's occupation of Japan, and their similar attempts in the Middle East.

Barefoot Gen - Keiji Nakazawa

I don't think I really need to say anything about this one. Keiji Nakazawa himself was a survivor of Hiroshima, which this manga details. An ever present part of anime and manga history, it's (in my opinion) a piece of required reading for engagement in the medium.

Town of Evening Calm, Country of Cherry Blossoms - Fumiyo Kouno

More similar to the latter parts of Okinawa and Barefoot Gen, Town of Evening Calm is a story that focuses on the aftermath of WWII. This manga from Kouno focuses on the intense poverty and struggle for survival that plagues the people of Japan that exist in the shadow of war and the atomic bomb. It may be only a single volume, but it's a very impactful read.

In This Corner of The World - Fumiyo Kouno

Complaining about the fact that Town of Evening Calm is out of print in English? Well, don't worry, In This Corner of The World has a movie that you can watch (from Mappa). Inverse to Town of Evening Calm, In This Corner of The World details the buildup to the end of WWII, and a young girl's experience with those rising tensions and dangers as she's separated from her family. An incredible series, both as the manga and the anime.

Tsubasa - Ayumu Tachihara

Yet another short, but incredibly important read. Tsubasa is a manga that focuses on Kamikaze pilot Daisuke's decision to join and offer his life, detailing his experiences and thoughts leading up to his death. Alongside F and Barefoot Gen, this manga was an emotional struggle to experience. The dissonance between Daisuke's inner monologue and the words he provides to the people around him makes for a painful experience that pleads for a reason to stop, but cannot find one amidst the situation.

And there's still a mountain more of Japanese media with anti-war sentiments that exist both as explicit and implicit commentary. Just look at Grave of The Fireflies (Ghibli adapted it from a novel), or anything Gundam related.

War is an abhorrent and brutal thing, and those that incite and encourage it do not deserve to call themselves human. Bringing the United States military into something that has absolutely no association to it (rather anime and manga have a certain animosity towards them) is a decision that I cannot fathom came from any sane or reasonable person's mind. It is deeply disgusting to see, and I hope that with all my heart that table that the Marines set up will be openly mocked and spat upon by con goers.

Lastly, for those that are willing to spare some money, a few dollars will go a very long way with recent and ongoing conflicts like the unimaginable tragedies occurring in Palestine, and the ongoing conflict between Ukraine and Russia. Please, don't feel the need to donate, but I do hope that people will contribute in whatever ways possible, and spread awareness and understanding of not just these conflicts, but any of the other countless ongoing conflicts and issues around the world.

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