@satoruhour Looking At U Very Intensely And Lovingly >

@satoruhour looking at u very intensely and lovingly ><

hope u are doing good T 🥺 i saw your posts about being busy with assignments (i feel you ;c) but !!! i also hope u get to finish everything & you give yourself a well deserved rest <3

lysm ! see ya aroundddd

Reblog to put one of these in your mutuals’ pocket when they’re not looking

I AM NOT OKAY

HE PLAYS BASS !

a/n: modern au bc i cant handle any angst rn. i ramble a lot in this to set the scene teehee. not beta read, gn btw / tagging @crysugu @slttygeto @getousex :3

wc: 3k ish

warnings: bass guitarist!geto, soft dom!geto, he is respectful of your boundaries, both geto and reader smoke weed, shotgun kiss, sexual acts under the influence, fingering, clit stimulation, implied second round, implied cunnilingus, dry humping, praise, n*sfw under the cut

bass guitarist!geto who has had an interest in music and its instruments since being a little boy, practically begging his parents to enrol him in some guitar classes. with fingers strumming the nylon strings alongside complicated chords on the frets felt so right that since then he and his guitar have been inseparable since.

bass guitarist!geto who gets to know the guitar so well that he masters guitar solo after guitar solo, playing songs by ear in his free time and thought lead guitar was all there was to music until the age of fifteen where he stumbles across a song with a bass line that sounded absolutely heavenly — through the 240p quality of the youtube video, he watched the bassist dish out the heavy beats, always in the background yet detrimental to making the band sound complete.

bass guitarist!geto who leaped at the opportunity to buy a bass guitar with whatever money he had to purchase a Squier bass — it was a little shitty in sound but it was cheap, something affordable for a middle schooler. suguru didn’t care. he perfected the use of his bass guitar, already having the basics down from playing guitar; his room is filled with posters, picks, pieces of displaced lyrics.

bass guitarist!geto only has the chance two years later to ask his new friends if they wanted to jam out together and down the line, if they wanted to form a band. it was a clueless band of boys (with shoko of course) in some room of gojo satoru’s luxury house where his parents don’t care to ask him to keep the noise down like suguru’s parents do.

bass guitarist!geto fights to get a spot to audition for one of tokyo’s biggest music festivals a few months later. if they won they would get more recognition, more support, even if they haven’t figured out the specifics of how to operate a band. with gojo as the singer, shoko on the lead and nanami on drums, they would find out what they had.

bass guitarist!geto who breaks that stereotype of the bassist being ignored throughout a performance. he thinks it could be because of his longer hair and his newly bought gauges, and he thought he didn’t look too shabby himself — although he isn’t surprised to see most of the girls fawn over gojo as he sang lyrics of an original song, courtesy of the joint effort between geto and shoko.

bass guitarist!geto who gives judges the finger after they said they couldn’t perform originals at an audition, blacklisting them for future performances — but gojo sees it as a win when he has a hoard of new fans waiting outside to get a photo with him with autographs that differed from each paper his pen made contact with. later, he bursts out laughing when gojo says he hadn’t even thought of a proper signature yet and just ‘did whatever on their paper’.

bass guitarist!geto whose band gained popularity fast because of everyone’s good looks, singing at that same place they auditioned at, but now with repertoire under their belt. it’s then that they’re already all in university, and yet everyone’s still incredibly passionate.

bass guitarist!geto who spots you in the crowd together with your friends, jamming out to their set, but while your friends’ eyes are locked on gojo who’s loving the attention, nanami who can’t give a shit and shoko who’s too focused on her solo, you manage to draw geto’s eyes to you. he spends the rest of the set locking eyes with you, amidst other things like sending you winks and licking his lips until you’re under his spell. all throughout he doesn’t lose the rhythm, but he does slip-up from time to time and there’s a panicked look that nanami sends to geto for messing up his rhythm.

bass guitarist!geto who sees you at his next show alone, smiling up at him right at the front row while he’s trying not to mess up after the last time. this time he has a chance to show you what he’s got in a bass solo, losing himself in the music until even you fades off and you’re truly seeing the bassist for who he is. he’s easing back into the main melody of the song but not before leaning over the speakers with a knee on the floor, hovering right over you before shoko takes over and he’s back to his heavy beats.

bass guitarist!geto who brushes off the teasing after the set ends, only to be bombarded with more of it when he sees you on campus — no way you’re in the same school as him, walking around with your cute outfits and laughing along to your friend’s joke with no care in the world.

bass guitarist!geto who doesn’t have much trouble charming you into hanging out with him, already recognising him from far away when he’s got his long flowy hair and gauges and tight black shirt and tall stature — you aren’t realising he’s asking you if it’ll be okay for you to head over to his dorm room. you’re getting pushed by your friends behind you to say yes with giggles and gossip, and of course you weren’t going to reject the hot guy you missed class and ditched friends for.

bass guitarist!geto who shows you his room and tells you to let him know if he’s made you uncomfortable in any way. in the background, there’s a faded, soft song that continues to play that really completes the dorm, immediately hitting it off until he starts to roll a joint a while later, offering it to you with a raise of his eyebrow.

“oh— n-no it’s fine, geto-san, i don’t really smoke…” you sheepishly turn down the weed, settling instead to watch him and his beautiful side profile, letting him explain to you about bands and guitar and chords.

“thank you for having me, geto-san,” bowing, you’re nothing like the person in the bar that day, geto thinks it’s the lack of alcohol but he doesn’t mind, simply leaning on the doorframe as he nods down at you. his smile is intoxicating and so goddamn attractive you would’ve buckled to your knees if not for the deep breaths you were taking.

“next time, pretty?” geto smiles, a little high from smoking. his eyes are lidded (they usually are anyway) and smile lopsided. his hair’s almost out of the bun.

“yeah, next time,” it sounded so breathy, you bit your lip. “i guess you’d have to find me on campus, though.”

bass guitarist!geto who mutters how you’re a little tease to himself later when he closes the door. he swears to himself he’d get your number next time, but it’s not difficult to find you the next time, hanging around the same place at the same time. it’s like you wanted him to find you — he’s not opposed to it. it’s a few weeks down the road now, and the second time is watching him curiously as he smokes, too. you take a hit and embarrass yourself completely in front of him though, and while you’re fighting for your life, you’re not opposed to the buzz it gives you.

bass guitarist!geto who’s opening the door to you the next time, surprised to see your dishevelled state and a pillow between your arms, walking almost a block like this to the next building where his dorm was. he offers to make you some tea and you shake your head, feeling a pounding headache already coming on just from explaining that your roommate was an asshole.

“you can sleep here if you want to, okay?” you sigh, thanking him immensely because even after knowing him for such a short period of time, you’re comforted by his presence.

“at least satoru’s not here,” you laugh at that, nodding tiredly before you’re settling on gojo’s bed after insistence from the other. he wouldn’t care, he’s always going back home anyway, don’t know why he wanted to share a room with me. but before you can get settled in, you hear the familiar crinkling of the paper and the click of the lighter and the smell of weed fills the room again.

again, his hand is outstretched, holding an ashtray below him as the tip of joint glows a red, calling out to you yet reminding you of the way you coughed the other night.

you crawl off his roommate’s bed, snatching the cig out of his hand in a way to prove something to yourself before taking a big puff. this time you’re better, letting the drug flow through your system, but tolerance is another thing, because it only takes another hit for you to be smiling drowsily at the other while geto is a little high, too, eyes rolling to the back of his head when your hand traces over his arms and you giggle.

“you w’nna kiss?” geto asks quietly, a little soberly, having talked late into the night while you hang off his arm and slur your words. but now you know you’re feeling a little more sensible when you can feel your heart pound and your eyes widen despite their need to close.

“i meant it, doll. you’re fuckin’ stunning,” suguru mumbles, the coldness of his rings sending a chill down your body, but also a spark to your core, “you look exactly like the day i discovered bass.” and it’s like cupid fully shoots his arrow through your heart — because have you heard the man play? you’re speechless at his point, only mustering a nod before you’re leaning in.

he hums drunkenly as a way to ask you to wait a min, manoeuvring you onto his lap before he’s taking the almost vanishing joint into his hands. two more puffs are perfect for the cigarette to be discarded and so with a gentle hand, he holds onto your nape while he tries not to get hard from having you on his lap. slowly, your lips wrap around the other end of the joint, taking in another influx of the drug before he does too.

bass guitarist!geto who pulls you towards his lips a little roughly but he doesn’t give you what you want (what he has in mind is much, much better), rather leaving his lips ajar as he exhales the smoke from his mouth into yours, your own smoke already dissipating. weirdly, this burn is more prominent, probably because all you can focus on are suguru’s dazed eyes and the way they burn through your skull. you inhale the smoke before you feel his soft lips on yours.

geto hums into your lips, coming off of them periodically to allow the smoke to disperse, but the moment is so intimate and hot that you blow away the smoke and lunge forward to wrap your arms around his neck.

“no more pullin’ away, geto-san…” you’re trailing off, words messily whispered against his lips and you burn at the chuckle he sounds out, muttering back a question of consent. you’re nodding, reeling at the speed at which he places his hands on your thighs, dragging you further up his front until you rested on his pelvis.

“kissing me like you can’t breathe and you’re still calling me by my last name? i’m wounded.” geto pulls away and defies your rule — you think he’s the only one who can do that. pouting, suguru pushes away the hair enclosing your face. “c’mon, drink, sober up a little.”

“...i like it like this,” you murmur, ashamed as to how readily you leaned into his touch. his stare is piercing though, not budging until you’re gulping down half the cup.

“throats turn dry when we smoke, princess. we can do it more when you’re more used to it, alright?” geto explains, patting your thigh and ignoring the tensing of them around his own. he’s trying so hard to act nonchalant, but he can’t get the image of you parting your lips for the smoke out of his head. the way your eyes flutter close, how you wanted more of him.

“alright… suguru,” you sigh out the name and geto wishes he could hear it somewhere else, “but can we—” the high is getting to you, making your hormones go into a frenzy and you’re grinding on his lap. geto hisses at the feeling, of your cunt brushing against his bulge. your hips are inexperienced, but you’re going by feel, drawing little circles and moving back and forth; whatever that brings you pleasure.

“baby— f-fuck…” geto swears when you pair it with the lips tha kiss down his cheek and jaw and neck, hands on your hips guiding you as you try to chase your high. but a whine from you draws geto out of his daze and he almost cums hearing your needy voice, begging him for something, anything.

“’m tired, suguru,”

he knows, grinding is a tiring thing, so rather he opts for you to lie on him with your back to his chest. by now, the room’s filled with the smell of weed and arousal, asking once again if he could take off your pyjama shorts. geto smiles at the lack of underwear but he says nothing, eyes latched onto the strings of juices that connect your pussy to the shorts.

“my baby ready to be touched?” he feels you nod, loving the way your stomach contracts and expands at the hand that travels over your clothed tits. there, he squeezes them, rubbing fingers over the hardened nub but soon creeps towards your centre. his hand and fingers are so much larger than yours, covering your whole core easily when he cups it and the contact is enough to make you mewl.

“hurry,” your hips hump the air.

“patience, darling,” geto’s gravelly voice cuts through to your ear before he finally draws languid circles upon your clit, rubbing and pressing on your bundle of nerves. his whole body burns from seeing you react so cutely, all cause your eyes couldn’t leave his on that stage. now your eyes were rolling up and over, little moans leaving your lips just from his hands.

bass guitarist!geto who seems to know all your pleasure points in one night, kissing the spot under your ear, to talking you through your orgasm. you were enamoured by the guitarist that you’d let him do anything to you, obsessed with the way he never missed questions of “is this okay?” and “tell me to stop”. geto is just as besotted by you, the arch of your back, the call of his name. god, he was going to write so many songs about you.

“think you can handle a finger, baby?” suguru whispers, caressing your twitching thighs from your first orgasm. with a shaky “yes”, geto plays with your hole, smearing your juices around your sex and getting it all on your thighs. the bashful suguruuu! has him laughing, taking your lips into another kiss as an apology.

“sorry, sweetheart. love teasin’ ya,” muffled words are said, “goin’ in.”

your jaw drops even more when geto first inserts a finger, so much wider and longer that a long moan escapes you. the stretch is so good, everything you’ve ever imagined after watching his fingers travel over the bass strings, and you’re already asking for a second finger. when he does oblige, your hands fly to grab at his wrist.

“feel good?” he chuckles at your lack of an answer, rather responding by clenching around his fingers and leaning back more into his hold. geto sets a pace, thrusting his fingers in and out of you. he thinks it’s enough of staring at you and almost gets whiplash when his head turns to his hand — from the way he disappears into your dripping cunt, he thinks he’ll cum untouched, although your desperate hips also would play a part.

“feel s’good, suguru— shit…” geto groans lowly into your ear when he feels your hand replicating the circles he’s made on your clit, juices starting to collect in his palm from how wet you were.

“you keep clenchin’ around me, baby, you w’nna cum?”

your body is more vocal than your voice, twisting and thrashing from how his fingers already feel so good. the haze and the smell of geto suguru and the weed in your system is all overloading on you at the moment, but in between you’re able to nod, fingers rubbing at your clit while geto’s speed picks up a little.

your legs naturally spread, each slap of his palm against your pussy paired with the lewd noises only making the whole thing better. it’s not long before you feel that familiar feeling, using your right hand to direct him to you once more and it’s here you see the man you saw on stage before: focused, flushed, small smirk on his face. “gonna cum.”

“yeah? are you?” geto asks against your lips, still tasting the faint aroma of the joint. your eyes are so heavy and your limbs feel like lead; it’s a wonder how both your hands are moving on your soaking wet pussy.

“yeah, sugu, s’sensitive—!” geto coos softly at your whimpers before capturing your lips, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip and your orgasm comes crashing down on you. suguru effectively swallows your moans, groaning on his own end when he can feel your cum running down his hand. slowly, he lets you ride through your orgasm, pressing pecks on your skin and shoulders.

“attagirl. so much cum, hm?” your chest is heaving, whining when he removes his fingers and there’s a cute little squelch from the juices, gasping softly as geto separates his fingers and there’s strings connecting his middle to ring finger. “dirty girl.”

you scoff softly with a smile, eyes following how his fingers make his way into his mouth. the other only hums before carrying you bridal style to the shower with a sweet smile on his face. geto suguru was certain he’d worship you.

“gotta taste that cute little pussy next time.”

hello lovely!! ^^ just wanted to say thank you so much for your kind words on reservations, it makes me so so happy to hear you enjoyed reading it and that it even managed to tug at your emotions! geto is a character i adore so it means an awful lot to me that youve liked how i write and imagine him! i hope you have a good day <33 - kisskawa

i hope you have/had an amazing day too !

thank you for taking the time to send me an answer, i truly enjoyed your piece so so much ><

i also hope to keep finding your beautiful works ! i'll be always willing to read and support with much love ^^

geto reaction to you wearing only his shirt

OVERSIZED NEVER LOOKED THIS GOOD

a/n: lore. a lot of lore. i always cannot help but write backstories. ure gonna have to bear w/ me SORRY !!!! based off of this drawing that i wanted to write sum about but then i thought why not combine it w/ this prompt. i went a little insane on this mb / tagging @papersirens @crysugu @getousex @hyomagiri @slttygeto, who else r geto fuckers

wc: 2.9k

warnings: roommate!geto, soft dom!geto, mutual pining, reader steals one of geto’s shirts, geto is also a little bit of a pervert, mentions of panty sniffing but geto doesn’t do it, m! and f! masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, slight nipple play, spitting (on ur pussy), finger sucking, p -> v sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

geto was a sweet roommate.

he’s always topping up on supplies when you needed things, pushing away your hand whenever you wanted to pay. where he got all his money, you weren’t even sure. geto cleaned the house, he cooked dinner, hell, it was like you two were married at this point. even gojo had asked if he would get together with someone who wasn’t you (and of course, in classic gojo way, he was skilled in asking it in a roundabout way), geto’s firm and abrupt “no” was enough to make gojo grin from ear to ear.

even he wasn’t sure when it all started — you were always friends with the three of them, gojo and shoko and himself, participating in their antics and getting in trouble in high school. there was hardly any dull times between the four, looking at you through the lens of a friend. but when those lens started to turn blurry and black, seeing you in a new light of tighter outfits and a sweet smile that looked like it contained something hidden, suguru genuinely hoped it would all go away.

it’s not like he thought he was unattractive, but you wouldn’t go for a guy like him, someone hidden behind gojo’s bright personality or shoko’s satirical, cool demeanour. he was oh so oblivious, however, turning an unintentional blind eye when you’re hanging with gojo for the day but only because you wanted to know what birthday present would be best for him, or having a movie night with shoko only to disregard cher horowitz on the television just to ask if geto would like your new nails and hair.

the two of you were so dense when either of you were hanging with them, going on for so long even after taking a gap year for shoko’s overseas med school attachment. they assumed the two of you would’ve done something then, but it was stagnant, dry, that gojo almost wants to take matters into his own hands; so when you’re begging geto if you could room with him, since he lived near the university you were all attending together,

“suguru, pleasee— i wouldn’t wanna travel for hours on end just for like a two hour lecture.”

shoko smiles, gojo laughs, slinging an arm around you, “help your poor friend out, suguru.”

gojo torments him to no end. he doesn’t regret it one bit when your arms are thrown around his neck in a bear hug in thanks, feeling himself get hard just from the way your breasts press against his chest.

“yeah,” it’s said breathily, softly, “it’s no problem.”

suguru thanked god you hadn’t wanted to move in that very same day, cause all that could be heard throughout the small apartment was him pumping his cock to a polaroid picture of you, calling out your name softly as he came all over the photo of your bright smile. he didn’t need the fan that night, the guilt was enough to burn him alive. and after, he acted like nothing happened, except the many, many times he’d think of taking you on every surface of the house, suffering silently for an entire year as the two of you fell into routine day by day.

today might change, however, when geto hangs the last piece of clothing, something that was hardly a difficult task, but it proved to be the hardest thing to date when he’d spot the bras and underwear lying at the bottom of the basket each time he prepared to do laundry. geto wills himself to wash, hang it, and get out but he cannot tear his eyes away from the unmistakable dark spot at the centre of your panties before it’s thrown in, taunting him to just pick it up to breathe in your scent, to do something to defile it, to let his desires take over. but he wasn’t gojo, no, he’d wait all the time in the world for the right time, even if it was at the expense of a throbbing cock and flushed cheeks.

“(y/n), ’m going to the store, you want…” his voice trails off when the drawer before him shows only one clean shirt left, sighing when his favourite shirt has gone missing, again. he knows it simply by the missing tag on the top, cut off terribly by your hands on a drunk movie night. he was thankful you missed his skin by an inch, but he cherishes that shirt and night dearly. geto simply brushes off the mishap, grabbing a sweatshirt instead.

there’s a rap on your door that quells all movement from your side, fabric clutched tightly between your fingers that it hurt just a little.

“(y/n)? love? you okay?”

“y— yeah, i’m fine sugu. what did you say earlier?”

“i’m going to the store. it’s grocery day so i’ll be there for a while — need to stock the fridge up for the week. you want anything?”

geto wishes so desperately to see your face now, asking if you could go and holding a reusable bag by your side, but strangely you don’t even make a move to open the door.

“no it’s fine, and okay! i’m— uh, busy with something,” you look towards the door and back to the article of clothing in your hand, “so i’m sorry i can’t help today.”

geto’s disappointment is brief, but he recovers as soon as he hears your apology, in that sweet, honeyed voice you love to use on him, as oblivious as you were of its effect.

“’s fine, see you later!” there’s a weird and panicky bout of feeling geto gets, but he’s satisfied with the hum you sound through the door. and once the door clicks behind him, you’re unlocking your own door softly, ensuring your surroundings are safe.

geto wasn’t the only one. between your fingers were his favourite shirt, straight from the dirty laundry of last week’s load; it’s been a reoccuring thing these few weeks after realising you maybe want geto to fuck you silly. you’re sneaking around undetected with it, holding it to your nose, breathing in his natural musk. it was the one shirt you liked on him — always put on when with you — it’s like your secret little joke from that night. and it was so sinful, the way your breath hitches from just his scent, the way your panties pool with arousal.

what would it be like to actually wear it?

the thought crosses your mind and leaves just as fast, heart pounding in your chest when you realise you’ve never tried that before.

peeling off your top, you slip it on carefully, swallowing from how much larger he is than you. the sleeves extend past your elbows by a little, so much cloth on you that you’re a little lightheaded by the possibility of being geto’s, belonging to geto.

“oh god…” you sigh, feeling your pussy throb at the thought, and your hands are shy when they creep in between your thighs. they rub at your clit gently, imagining geto was doing the work instead. he’d be so gentle with his hands, cupping your thighs, spreading your legs.

you’re whining when your fingers find your way into your cunt, nose filled with the scent of geto and head filling with the repeated runnings of his tongue on you, his cock in you, his whole person devoted to you. it’s cute how you don’t know that’s already the case. your fingers are lacklustre as you pump them in and out while your other hand is busy with your clit and you look like a goddess: spread out on your bed in nothing but your roommate’s shirt, a soft, slow melody playing from your phone.

you’re so entranced by the sensations you don’t hear the front door opening and the rustle of the plastic bags (he forgot the reusable bags) containing your groceries, distracted by the phone call he’s having with gojo who teases him through the line. his best friend says stupid crap like she’s definitely into you, too. what her panties smell like? have you guys fucked yet?

the last two was enough for geto to whisper a soft satoru!, clearly displeased with the way he was asking about you, about you both that he only rolls his eyes, muttering an annoyed “i’m hanging up, you pervert. i’ll talk to you later—”

setting down the bags, he frowns again upon seeing the closed door, although not as closed you thought you left it.

“suguru— f-fuck, right there—” geto chokes on his saliva at the moans coming from behind the door, careful not to step on the wrong floorboard below him as he lines up with your room door — a terrifying feat rewarded by your needy whines begging for him. he can hear the wetness of his roommate’s cunt, and he wants to take a peak so bad; so he does just that and stiflies a groan at the sight.

your hair is splayed out all around you, pussy facing the entrance of the door just perfectly and his shirt draped over your body. it sends him into a frenzy, head reeling at seeing his shirt so oversized and so perfect over your body that he swears he cums a little at the display. your cute face scrunched up in pure pleasure, your toes curling around the bedsheets he changed for you.

oh, shit.

and geto panics when your head shoots up, eyes meeting his and your hands halting.

fuck, did i say that out loud?

you’re speechless although your reflexes cause you to close your legs immediately, scooting up the bed like you’ve just got cornered by a predator. it was similar — geto with his big, brooding self, moving slowly into the room with both hands up and a dazed look behind his eyes, you, exposed in the eyes of a hungry man who’s craved you for so many months. you like it.

“you’re— you’re wearing my shirt,” geto gulps, causing you to let out a nervous laugh.

“yea— yeah…”

geto thinks that maybe this is it. this was the moment he’s been holding back on for so long, and so he crosses that boundary into your space, stopping right at the footboard of the bed. you follow suit, going onto your hands and knees and crawling to him that he tilts his head back. everything you do drives him crazy.

suguru’s words is heavy, “you think you’re cute, hm? stealing my shirt and then moaning out my name and fingering your pussy like that…”

your breath shakes, ascending to your knees so you’d reach his height, but not quite. he tugs you closer to him.

“yeah.” it’s so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it, “been wanting you for a long time.”

your roommate hums, lips hovering over yours just by an inch. you’d probably pass out if not for your racing heart and pulsating core.

“yeah?”

you’re finished with words, resorting only to a shy nod before geto crashes his lips onto yours, wrapping the other arm around you as yours go around his neck. it’s messy, filled with drool, devouring you on the spot for teasing him for so long, mouths moving in sync with each other. there’s a soft moan that escapes your mouth when you feel him manhandle you with ease, picking you off the bed to set you down on your back gently.

“c’mon, let’s see the mess you made,” you mewl at the words but your legs are stubborn, still in disbelief at the way suguru treats you, but you let him pry your legs apart after some gentle praises. you stifle a smile when you see how geto exhales at how beautiful your pussy is, leaking from your hole while your puffy clit is begging to be touched.

“oh, she’s so fuckin’ pretty…” your roommate mumbles, intoxicated on your scent as he bends down, giving your cunt one last loving look before he looks to you with a small grin. it’s clear he cannot wait, but he pauses for the words he wants to hear.

“wan’ you to eat me out, sugu,” you’re mumbling and suguru thinks it’s so cute, only responding by giving you a peck on your inner thigh, a soft yeah? before he goes down on you.

geto’s tongue on you is slow and cautious, drawing languid circles around your clit as he plays with your thighs, moaning softly into your core.

“s’damn sweet,” you can feel the stretch of a smile before he resumes, drawing you in slowly with each lick, each suck. geto doesn’t let your arousal go to waste, using a finger to scoop up your juices before he rubs the area around your hole and then the first push into your pussy makes you let out a loud, wanton moan.

“oh— your fingers, sugu, they’re—” they’re so much thicker and longer, everything that you couldn’t feel before now feels too much and yet your cunt gives him his answer by clenching around his longer finger.

“better than yours?” he asks with a lopsided smile.

you huff in indignance — not your fault you had shorter fingers, “yeah.”

“i’ll make full use of ’em, baby,” geto gasps softly when he pushes his finger right to the hilt, obsessed with the way your hand closes around his wrist. “too much?”

you shake your head, “n-no, just— feels too good.”

your roommate laughs softly, “princess is just too sensitive.”

he’s tempted to chuckle again when he sees how the pet names affect you, but soon he’s adding a second finger and pushes in, moving at a slow speed. and then when he adds his mouth into the mix, you’re begging for him to hurry; his eyes flutter close, getting lost in everything that you dish out.

geto’s pace is routine like his life, but it’s not any less pleasurable as he curls his fingers upwards, stretching you out and hitting your spot repeatedly. he continually flicks his tongue and sucks and slurps, tasting your essence once and needing a second, third, fourth, umpteenth taste, bringing out the most delicious moans to fall from your lips. it’s like hearing aphrodite sing, and yet you cross her by miles both in beauty and voice. surely, he shouldn’t mention that out loud, but eros can’t possibly help the arrow puncturing his heart, and looking at his psyche now, he thinks you look absolutely flawless.

“f-feel so good, mmh— so deep, suguru—!” his eyes snap open to look at you with hooded lids, sending you a cheeky wink before he starts to suck on your bundle of nerves, keeping his mouth latched around it as his fingers speed up. the noises of your cunt sucking him in paired with your whines just sound so good, and the scent of his shirt is dizzying, pulling it higher and higher till it pools around your chest. you watch as geto pulls away for a second, gathering saliva in his throat before he spits on your pussy, and the action is so lewd your jaw drops and your hips start to hump against him. 

“ya like that? filthy girl,” geto smiles, rubbing his thumb into your clit and there’s that distinctive build-up in your stomach, coiling and burning until lays his tongue flat onto your cunt, pressing it deep along with the fingers that curl up in your pussy.

“su—” you don’t even have time to tell him, cumming all over his fingers and soaking the sheets, flustered at the in-awe look geto has on his face at how the shirt had ridden up, at how your hands cup your tits and play with your nipples, at how your cunt gushes so sweetly for him. he continues to pump his fingers to let you ride out your orgasm, relishing in the whine you let out when he removes his fingers.

“patience, sweetheart,” geto moves up to reach you, fingers waiting inches away from your lips. you’re taking his fingers into your mouth, keeping eye contact as you wrap your tongue around them and sucking your cum off of him, swearing lowly when you grab his wrist and shove them deeper. “but then again, we’ve been dancing around each other for too long, now.”

you smile at his allusion to the many times that the what-ifs could’ve come true, and yet now you’re tangled up like this in his shirt.

once geto’s underwear comes off, you’re gaping at the cock that he pumps, clearly looking intimidating enough that geto has a hand to your knee and kisses it gently. “we’ll make it fit, alright?”

you nod a little timidly, taking his hand off and twining your fingers, “yeah, i trust you to take care of me.” you make a quick move to remove his shirt but he stops you, saying something embarrassing about wanting to see how cute and small you look in his shirt. you’re scoffing and pushing at him later, you’re just too tall.

he takes care of you perfectly fine — when geto fully sheathes himself in you, he can only focus on your gummy walls that wrap around him fully, his eyes are rolling to the back of his head and you’re grasping at his hands that grab your hips so hard. your roommate fucks you so well, your body limp and your pussy begging to milk him dry that it spills out so much — geto groans into your neck with reddened cheeks at that later.

you’re receiving a noise warning the very next day, alongside a QR code that takes you to a link for soundproof foam, and all you can do is laugh at each other. like routine, geto is already gathering the ingredients for an apology cake, beside him right in that little kitchen in another shirt of his that starts to smell more and more like you—

as his roommate and maybe now, something more.

♡

best gojo trope i swear

🐇 hi t!!! i currently have this brainrot and i don't know who else but to share it and i thought HEYYYY what if i share this to one of my favorite satoru writers hdjfhdkdhdj don't mind me but omfg i've been listening to i know from travis scott's new album and i couldn't stop thinking about angsty(?) fucking with satoru, him cutting off the friends w benefits set up with you because he's scared of confronting his feelings with falling in love with you and he thinks he'll hurt you because he scared of the unfamiliarity of love to him,,,, but he's so into you, the way you momentarily stare into him after you pull away from a heated kiss, the way you wrap your fingers and hold his hands when you slowly grind on his cock, the way you look into his eyes with clouded lust when he's gripping your hips as he bullies his cock into you, the way you hold onto his wrists when he fucks his fingers and plays with your clit tenderly while he has your back on his pounding chest.........he just can't forget you and the chemistry so he pulls up at your residence, knocking at your door at 2 am intoxicated and high, and he's aware he isn't supposed to do this anymore but satoru always knows you'll be opening up the door for him and him only like his good girl with nothing under your velvet babydoll dress you'd always wear when he's around........he always finds a way to make you cry and begging in bed but this time it's different when it's you feigning hurt with the way he cut things off and left you, reminding him “you're just drunk right now,” or “it's just the drugs, satoru...” while he holds your leg onto his broad shoulders and his right hand rubbing your clit while he pumps his cock inside your warm pussy but he softly chuckles at your protests, his tongue licking your neck before he comes closer to your face, his thrusts slowing down as his eyes glances at your lips before settling his blue eyes on your low lidded eyes, telling you “i know baby, i know,” then kisses you momentarily just for him to bite your lower lip tenderly. he looks back at you, you practically have heart eyes all over, all dumbed down with the way he fucks you, a constant reminder that he has you wrapped around his fingers and he can't help but to bite his lip back,,,,,, he isn't yours, but he knows at the back of his mind that you're always his.

PROTECTED VULNERABILITY / STUBBORN HEART

a/n: anon ur MIND ! i need to tell u i had fwb gojo in my drafts 4 the longest time but i never continued. but also i cant tell if i like this or not, i hope i didnt disappoint u anon 😭 also i couldn’t handle the angst so i made reader also want gojo, but written not so obviously as him! cant put my baby thru all that and also ! i may have missed the angsty fucking part so it’s just gojo pining like an idiot

wc: 6.6k

warnings: fwb!gojo, gojo is crazy over u, dom!gojo but hints of whiny gojo, m! masturbation, oral (f and m receiving) / cunnilingus, clit stimulation, fingering, praise, pet names, reader and gojo are both high in the last scene, finger sucking, face-fucking, deepthroating, tongue-fucking, unprotected sex, overstimulation, creampie / breeding kink, multiple rounds, ambiguous ending, n*sfw under the cut

gojo never liked to feel vulnerable.

he understands it fully when he’s got you on top of him for the first time, staring down at him, unaware he’s one of the strongest people in his line of work. you’re unknowingly setting every part of him ablaze, caged in like your body’s a branding iron and he traces over the crescent marks and the lines you made later in the bathroom.

gojo doesn’t recover after that, pondering over this vulnerability which only you could make him feel — the lilt in your voice, the softness of your eyes — it felt almost like it was just for him. his delusions don’t escape him, and rather it only grows worse each time he meets you. 

vulnerability was a state of exposure, like the way his skin singes under the sun or the unfamiliar feeling of infinity being turned off. it was like standing bare like venus in her birth, eyes forcefully turned onto her while on her scallop shell. it was like sitting on the steps of jujutsu high and getting a ridiculous question of why he didn’t chase after his best friend.

it was like turning his head to meet your sleeping form, calm and undisturbed in the late morning while he wishes you’d turn into a curse, bare your teeth at him and give him a reason to just flee. gojo felt so vulnerable he wanted to do anything but be here. he knows it all too well when it claws at his throat and makes his head spin. it takes the breath out of him and sends tremors through his fingertips. they’re just some of the uncomfortable feelings satoru braces himself for before he’s interrupted by your fingers unzipping his pants, and he loses himself to your skillful hands.

“baby— c’mon,” gojo laughs, tugging lightly on your hair that you moan, and you’re making quick work of his uniform, tugging it off and coming face to face with his bulge. it’s been plaguing him since the mission earlier, but with a quick call to you, you’re quick to show up in a t-shirt and pants, crashing his lips onto yours right at the door.

“okay, i’ll stop teasin’.” your sly smile told gojo everything he needed to know, a shaky breath leaving him when his cock finally leaves the confines of his underwear. his eyes can’t look away from the way your manicured nails wrap around his length as you’re circling your tongue around his tip. you pull him in with just your stare, collecting his pre-cum before you spit on his dick, taking him slowly.

satoru’s head falls back against his sofa, but it’s not for long when he knows you taking his cock down your throat is the hottest thing he’s witnessed. sure, he’s gotten blowjobs before, and he’s moaning as he is but gojo never quite feels the rush of adrenaline throughout his whole body, never the shortness of breath that catches in his lungs.

“love your cock in my mouth, gojo— mhm…” he’s hoping you can pick up on the fact that he does not want you to say that, because it makes everything harder for him, a high-pitched yelp leaving him when you start to suck on his balls, hand still pumping his shaft and you love the way gojo’s hips buck into the air, juices pooling in your panties.

everything feels just right when you bring his hands to your head and get almost all of him into your mouth, nose buried in his pubes and taking in the musky scent of his body — gojo lets out a drawn out whine when he lets himself loose and your eyes are rolling back further and further into your head as the hours pass. his hands are so large on you it drives you crazy as well as it does to the other when you’re twining your fingers with his while you sink down on him, when he squeezes your hand when he’s about to cum. your giggles are muffled by the kisses you share in the late night, unknowingly giving into your questions about him.

the next day is blurry as gojo finds himself handing his card over, in a haze since the previous night, the only thing standing crystal clear was the cutest babydoll dress hanging on a rack.

so the next time you meet, he’s passing you the gift with a whisper in your ear that he expects you to wear it every time he’s around and you have half a mind to smack him on the arm. i’m not like you! reusing outfits and stinking them up! gojo only laughs hard before your snarky remarks are swallowed by the sorcerer, soft moans and pants weaselling out from your lips while you let him use you in a changing room; he doesn’t tell you how your sounds make him dizzy.

in between you’re accepting his calls with a cheery voice, sticking through to your babydoll dress promises. a culmination of feelings building up until gojo truly feels like he can’t breathe — he manages each time which makes even him impressed with himself. but then you’re meeting his kiss halfway when he’s rubbing at your clit gently from below you, drawing out the most lewd sounds from you, the buzzing feeling of your body against him — it’s too much for gojo sometimes.

and the last, before gojo satoru is finally stripped down to his core and that recurring impulse to push people away starts bubbling up again, and yet he tries to find an excuse each time to even catch a glance at you. he knows despite his inability to admit it to himself.

he knows this like he knows many things — the ins and outs of his technique, what food megumi liked, your favourite fruit — but not even the sweetness of an Amaou could convince him of the very feelings he’s swallowed and buried under the very soil he wishes to grow strawberries from. at least he knows he’s fucked.

but the knowing halts when it comes to when? was it when you’re no longer rushing to leave his place after hookups? was it when he sees traces of you in his home? was it when he’s handing over his card to pay for a dress he wasn’t even sure was in your size?

your whisper of his name brings him back, and his bright eyes seem to lighten just a little; in it you can see the crash of the oceans and the scent of it. gojo smells like that — saltiness tinged with caramel and sweetness, scent lingering in and around you whenever you’re not with him. you’ve been making new discoveries about him ever since, even more so today when your heart pounds with the way his hands are on you, feeling a little foreign from how long he hasn’t contacted you.

“are you alright?” you mumble, hips halting at the stupor gojo seemed to be in, until he silently nods, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth and lifting you off of him. it confuses you a little before he settles you on his chest and you shiver at the vibration of his chest.

“spread your legs, baby,” you sigh when his hands trace over your thighs, the coldness of his hands against the warmth of your thighs feeling so good, even more so when he coos in your ear at just how wet you are, drawing languid circles around your clit. “so wet, hm?” you hum whilst turning your head to face him, eyes flitting straight down to his lips when he licks them.

“just f’r you, pretty boy,” your giggles are consumed by gojo’s eager lips, meeting yours halfway in a rough kiss as he starts to rub at your bundle of nerves. even your moans are swallowed, muffled by gojo’s own needy ones before your hands fly up to clutch at his.

“g-gojo! f— fuckkk…” at this point, you’ve completely succumbed to the man behind you, body limp to his ministrations; they’re relentless even when your hands hold his wrist captive. 

“right there?” gojo chuckles into your ear, hot breath fanning across your ear. it trails into giggles when a drawn out yeahh… makes its way out of you, “my good lil girl.”

you preen at the praise you’ve heard multiple times before, but for some reason your heart only

jumps at gojo’s words no matter how you look at it. with his other hand, he’s positioning it at your entrance, slipping in his finger with a groan that reverberates through his toned chest. there’s moans and whines exchanged, the musky scent of sex flooding every corner.

before long, a second finger joins his first, eyes locked on the way your drooling cunt sucks him in easily while your juices coat his palm, a glistening, filthy sight as he sets a pace. gojo laughs again when your other wandering hand wraps around his wrist, too.

“s’too full,” you whimper, head thrown back across his shoulder, thinking your tightly clenched hands did any work, but if anything, it only spurs him on further. the abuse on your core is endless, feeling with a shiver down your back, the lazy circles on your cli  and the spread of his hand widening to fit more of his fingers in you.

“you’ve taken my cock before, darlin’, you can do it.” satoru coats your shoulders and neck with kisses, that lone sentence making it clear to him he wants you more than just this one time. he wants this over and over until you’re crying and the sheets are soaked, until he’s made so many cups of morning coffee for you that he can’t count them on one hand. there’s a brief falter in his movements when he realises this, an uncomfortable stifled gulp until you’re whining into his ears, hands beckoning him to continue and he brushes it away like he always does.

you’re cumming easily with the arch of your back, but gojo is still in a daze about your life together. maybe you’d gift him a box of kikufuku when he’s back from trips, maybe you’d patch him up after a difficult mission even if you didn’t know what his job entailed. there was too many maybe’s, something gojo wasn’t willing to bet on. for now, he’d focus on the way—

—the way moans lingered on your lips when you came as your body reacted so well to his fingers, clutching on his lanky frame while he pumped you full. he watches when your eyes roll back and your neck reveals itself and he laughs into it, telling you how he’s the only one to make you feel this good and you’re nodding frantically.

gojo’s heart warms at that while his throat dries and it’s like he loses confidence and he feels like a virgin all over again — so blessed to have you under him while he’s suddenly hyper aware of how your cunt feels around him. it’s divine, you’re divine; he stifles a small confession and masks it with a cry. a cry that was of pure desire which couldn’t be expressed, and he blinks away the tears before they could come because you feel too damn good; and if he looks at you one second more he would confess everything.

“you okay?” gojo brushes the sweaty hairs that stick to your forehead, getting a blissful smile from you afterwards while you merely pull him down for a kiss and satoru feels bile creep up in his throat at the tenderness which you connect your lips to him. you’re leading the kiss so slowly and sweetly he wonders if you ever prefer his lips over your Amaou strawberries.

“’m okay, gojo.” the last name is reminiscent of the stagnant distance between you, “are you?”

satoru sniffles just a bit and nods, “y-yeah. let me go get a rag, ’kay?”

you don’t answer after because of your fatigue, merely letting him slip away from your fingers while you calm your heartbeat, rather settling for his scent on the bedsheets and you ignore the redness of his eyes, letting him take care of you as the night falls into an uncharacteristic quiet.

words are difficult in this arrangement after the rules have been set. we’re here to fuck, not to solve each other’s problems, and you’re giving him a curt nod and a sultry smile before you taste gojo satoru for the first time. it has been like that since then, although gojo has been more silent than usual, but words—

words are difficult, and so you leave it be with a deep sigh and a dreamless slumber, not aware of the other.

it’s when the rush of water hits the pail, gojo realises he can’t carry on much longer, of the pull you have on him, on the chemistry, the words dying on his lips when he sees you already passed out. with a gentle hand he glides the rag over you, careful not to wake you, and it’s getting difficult separating love from lust when he’s wiping you down so gently like this.

gojo is gone when you awaken, his side of the bed cold that signals to you he’s been gone for a few hours now, and you’re hoping to get a greeting of him posing beside mochi, or a trinket from a neighbouring district. his work made him travel a lot, you heard, but the specifics are a hushed topic — he wasn’t yours to know intimately anyway.

you’re halfway changing into a babydoll dress he got you, the material sleek and comfortable enough to be worn at home, glancing at the phone with one arm in the arm hole. you frown.

[11:12, gojo satoru]: hey. i think we should stop this thing we have goin on

gojo’s fingers regret the very moment he’s sent it, because you do nothing but type and stop and linger online. he makes it worse with a second message, and multiple more.

[11:14, gojo satoru]: i have uh… a work thing that might interfere with this. 

i’m sorry y/n, you were.. great. i loved every second i spent…|

he let his feelings run and accidentally clicks ‘send’ and panics, unsending it almost instantly. he has to catch a breath before he types it out again.

[11:15, gojo satoru]: i’m sorry (y/n), you were.. great. thank you for the arrangement fr

had a lot of fun while it lasted, also sorry i used all ur face wash hehehe ~

gojo groans into his hands at the way he easily reverts back to his playful disposition, a coping mechanism he’s picked up since high school and he hates how he already misses how he was with you.

“what the fuck are you moaning about now?” shoko asks, obviously irritatedly as she dissects another transfigured human, and her private time on studying the oddness of the disfigured curse is undoubtedly ruined by her friend’s incessant groaning.

the sorcerer is spread out on one of the seats in the morgue, “nothin’.”

“is it that friends with benefits thing you have going on?” he rolls his eyes behind the blindfold. years of dissecting people probably granted shoko with the ability to see through people, both literally and figuratively. gojo simply waves a hand and takes his leave, phone already on do not disturb to avoid seeing your reply. that’s the first time shoko catches onto his inner turmoil, the tear between wanting to protect his heart and the desperation to let someone in.

[11:20, delivered]: oh

but you know when it’s started for him. you think it was the moment you’d seen the change in gojo’s eyes. there wasn’t just carnal need for you, not just lust. amongst little specks of darkened azure you can see the softer hues of baby and lapis; but what do you know, right?

those same eyes stare back at you in the profile picture he set after a drunken night together. you reply with the only thing you can manage as you try to convince yourself it’s what you want. 

[11:21, delivered]: oh okay

you feel like a schoolgirl throwing a tantrum again, the pounding in your heart reaching your ears like a droning drum and you feel like you cannot breathe. your pillows are the victim of your unfiltered scream, paired with multiple profanities until you’re left with no more fire in you. gojo satoru had taken all of the heat with him.

that was friday; on sunday there’s a notification at the end of the week that tells you your screen time went up by 9%.

nanami and shoko were never one to reject a drinking night on a monday, sharing an unsaid (and reluctant) conclusion that maybe they should bring gojo along even if he’s only going to be sipping on apple cider. but while usually gojo is boasting about his terrible alcohol tolerance, tonight he’s buried in an arm he wishes was your neck, the burn of the whiskey nanami begged him not to drink reminding him of your touch.

“thousand yen and a new dissection set for when gojo goes back to his friend with benefits within one week.”

“ah, when, not if? you seem pretty confident,” nanami comments from across the table in the fairly busy bar, leaning back with an unreadable expression upon his face.

shoko only shrugs, “something tells me he’s definitely moping in his—”

“can we please stop talking about me like i’m not in the middle?” his words are muffled by the dark blue uniform he dons, white hair looking strangely duller as he tries to get some shuteye in a damn bar; foolish enough to lose sleep over you that he’s been messing up on missions. even nanami was surprised to be assigned to harder missions upon learning about gojo’s mishaps.

his grumbles fall on deaf ears, the clink of their glasses only highlighting satoru’s torment, the mediocre performance of the band on stage only adding to the headache that was forming — and it’s not long before gojo loses all senses. he has to be lugged out of the bar by nanami as shoko just grins, still as fresh as she arrived as she shouts a good luck! and the stoic sorcerer is left to deal with his senior. by now, gojo has already talked his ear off while he decides what to do with the lanky man, a call to ijichi halted when the strongest sorcerer starts to mumble out incoherent words.

“she’sss… she’s so beautiful i— i don’t… nanaminnn i don’t know what to fuckin’ do,” gojo mumbles into the lapels of the other’s suit. “i feel like i might— i wanna die whenever i’m with her because…”

gojo sniffles. he’s driven to tears easily, the liquor in him intensifying anything and everything. his last confessions are slurred, albeit softly. “i can’t breathe around her.”

there’s a tense silence that circles them for a few minutes, nanami considering his next words carefully even with the soft whispers of your name leaving his lips, and then, there’s also the awkward hard-on nanami can feel on his thigh and he’s trying so hard not to wince — at least gojo’s pants were darker in colour. he can only muster sighs when people on the sidewalk give him looks.

“gojo. i’m not a stranger to your… tendencies,” nanami’s voice cuts through harshly, thinking that his senior may be napping, but he’s surprised to hear a hum leaving his throat, “but you’ve been lacking. in missions, in teaching. it’s never this bad.”

monday. it’s monday and it’s been three days since he broke it off. all it takes is some whiskey and nanami kento to break you down, but he doesn’t say anything after, standing in silence with him until the alcohol wears off just a little more and the sorcerer’s able to gather his cursed energy to teleport. but all gojo can sense in his home are the residuals of your cursed energy. it stings his nose like an odour, something he should be repulsed by, like the pungent smell of copper after visiting shoko or the strong tang of the fermented tofu you’ve tried making for him.

weirdly it only makes the ache in his pants worse when the cursed energy fills his head and messes with his; it reminds him of when you’d be too impatient to make it to the bedroom, letting gojo take you on the couch, to the ride of his shirt up your hips when you first wake up. plopping onto the sofa, he almost succumbs to sleep, alcohol breath and all, but manages to flip himself over, fingers stumbling over his zipper.

your name is the first thing that leaves his mouth as he palms his bulge, soft grunts sounded out in the quietness of his house. his head digs far into the couch as he focuses on you atop him working your magic, grinding onto his front like a tease with your hands on his chest. he removes his underwear with a sigh, hand immediately starting to stroke himself.

“oh— shit, y-yeah,” satoru has no restraint, no decorum, whines filling the room while the slick noises of his fist increase in volume. he thinks of every bit of your body moving against him, water against rock, icarus against the sun.

gojo squeezes his shaft and remembers all the times you’ve wrapped your own hand around him, nails newly done and paid from his pocket as the baby blues move up and down his dick. he rubs a thumb around his tip, and the way his tip leaks pre-cum is almost sinful.

“baby, oh fuckk—” his head pounds from the bright light and the alcohol, and the way his eyes are scrunched tight. “you feel so fuckin’ good.”

satoru’s hips are lifting off his sofa, humping into thin air while his hands speed up, and he’s close, getting some notification from nanami which draws his attention to the wallpaper he set of you: sheets dangerously low on your chest, eyes resting from the long night. it makes him sob out your name because you don’t know what you do to him, until.

until gojo reaches an unsatisfying peak, a cry on his lips and spurts of his cum staining his hand, but it feels nothing like you. the liquid’s spread across his hand like hot water, the guilt burning his body before he chucks his phone to the side and prays to any god that they would have mercy on him.

a gasp is heard. your figure shows itself through the babydoll dress, looking stunning as always with your doe eyes. he knew you’d always open the door.

“gojo.”

alcohol is prevalent on the man standing across from you, and you’re partially surprised to see him in front of you after just one week calling your whole arrangement off — somewhere, someone you don’t know is gifting another unknown person a new dissection set with a mere ¥1000 bill on it. something tugs at your heart at his flushed face and messy hair, maybe it was your feelings, maybe it was the wine you drank before this. you also take note of the unbuttoned dress shirt he’s got on, the wrinkles and dishevelled state of it driving you a little insane.

“baby…” gojo smiles like it was a late night drinking with the boys and it was you welcoming him home, but it’s different when you’ve fucked and received kisses like he loves you, all while he’s standing at the corridor of your apartment building. you’re hoping he’s only a figment of your imagination, because you’ve banished him from your mind since last week. oh well, you tried anyways.

“what. do you want?” there’s a slight buzz from the wine you drank, amplified when he slowly makes his way into the familiar space.

“you—” the other hiccups, and he has to keep a hand on the doorframe from collapsing. if he’s strong enough to do that, you think he’s probably one drink in, bordering on the line of being high and slowly descending into drunkenness. in his hand there’s a bottle of apple cider to quell the alcohol; you stifle a smile.

“i’m not the one who called it off.” you hold your ground, not even noticing the attachment you have with the velvet on your body, feeling satoru’s fingers play with the soft fabric of its hem.

“and yet you— you wear this dress like it’s your underwear, always opening the door f’r me a-and… fuck,” it comes out softly upon feeling up your thighs and settling on your ass cheeks, void of any panties. he gives it a good squeeze and a small whimper leaves you, forced to cosy up to his chest when you stumble forward.

“you’re just drunk right now, gojo, sayin’ shit like that…” you trail off, finding any excuse to not open up the scab on your heart again, pushing at his chest like you didn’t want to taste the rum on him, like you didn’t want his body on yours and taint him with sauvignon.

gojo proves you wrong over and over again at how he’s got your dress flipped up later, neck bent up to accommodate his tall stature while you’re supporting yourself on the flimsy shoe rack as he pulls your body flush against him and toes off his shoes — he’s skilled at multitasking like that.

“need to be inside you, baby,” he groans, fingers fumbling with the dress he bought and he almost cums just from feeling up your body, “but first.”

you’re swept off the floor and your hands are quick to wrap around his neck, following the route to your bedroom like he’s done many times before. this time, there’s a different kind of thrill, looking down at your hazy eyes as you’re both intoxicated on liquor. it’s different from the time he took the current picture of his contact in your phone (you hadn’t deleted his number), it’s different from every other day.

“gojo…” is all you can muster when he plops you down a little roughly on the bed, and you have the privilege of seeing him strip out of the button down shirt, forearms flexing against the shirt as he reveals his toned body bit by bit. you can’t help but refuse to lose, legs spreading just a little to show him all the wetness you’ve gotten just from kissing him.

“angel,” he looks a little starstruck by the sheen of your pussy, swallowing until he’s finally out of his shirt, “you look fuckin’ beautiful.”

your small smile tells him you already know that (“pretty girl, takin’ me so well like this.” a whisper into your ear in that changing room) like you know how you’re probably the only one to get him like this: panting, mouth parted, cock aching to be in you — you’re just better at hiding your own.

wordlessly, you swipe two fingers along your folds, collecting your slick before they come to rest upon his lips, taking it into his mouth willingly. they swirl around your digits and he hums at the taste, divine as always, teeth scraping your skin when you easily unbuckle his pants and peel the underwear off of him.

“can i call you satoru?”

you don’t even have to fucking ask, he wishes to say but all he answers with is a shaky “yes”, and he never wants anything to do with the gojo clan any more. if you asked him to quit being a sorcerer, he would, because all he wants to be associated with is satoru and the cadence of it falling from your lips.

even one week was too much for you, so you’re quick to get to your knees, going straight to putting his fat cock in your mouth. the moan gojo lets out is straight pornographic, and he’s missed this as much as you did, knowing nothing could compare to his hand when your mouth was second to your cunt. lovingly, his hand caresses one side of your cheek, filled to the brim with his length.

“so fuckin’ warm, holy fuck—” bobbing your head, you keep a steady hand on his thighs, because with one look to him, he’s whimpering out, hands loosely tangling in your hair. you moan as his hips start to buck into your mouth, and with a small nod from you, the hands on your head tightens before he starts to thrust into your cavern, bringing you down to his pelvis ever so slightly.

there’s guttural sounds coming from the back of your throat as you deepthroat him, eyes brimming with tears before he lets up. his thrusts don’t stop, though, and he fucks your mouth like an animal, lewd noises flooding the room as drool falls from your mouth. you’re moaning as you play with yourself, the vibrations causing the other’s hips to stutter.

“g’nna c—” it’s a shame how fast gojo cums, but it’s only fair because of the way your mouth feels on him, tongue flexing against the underside of his shaft every time his cock disappears into you and he’s shooting hot liquid down your throat after, unloading into your throat as you swallow easily. you’re used to the bitter taste by now.

“s’big,” you giggle, naturally taking over as your hands squeeze out the last bits of cum from his cock, and the way it drips onto your tongue is orgasmic, “love your cock s’much, satoru.”

gojo brings you up by your arms, and he has to taste himself on you first before he’s fully taking off his pants, smiling just a bit when your legs spread again and your pussy is practically begging for him. “enough of me, let’s focus on you.”

you raise an eyebrow while he’s inches away from your cunt, ignoring the rasp of his voice like it hadn’t made you shiver, “me?”

“yeah, you, my pretty lil thing.” you hardly digest what he says before his mouth engulfs your core, and you let out a deafening moan, hands closing around your bed sheets as he starts to suck on your clit. his tongue is ruthless, flicking at your nub and wrapping both arms around your thighs, tugging you into his face like he wasn’t close enough already.

“oh g-god— satoruuu…” his name falls from your lips countless times and gojo’s eyes can’t help but shift to your face at the pretty sounds that come from you, zoned in on eating you out until his chin is wet with your slick.

“look at me, princess,” gojo is taken aback from the blissed out expression on your face, but it doesn’t falter him, a resolve settling in his bones, “thaaat’s it, baby.” and you struggle to hold his stare when those familiar blues comes flooding back into his irises while his tongue doesn’t stop any of its movements, knowing your ins and outs. you can feel the fabric below you starting to soak, pussy dripping endlessly.

he gives you one last lasting look before he moves down to your entrance, tongue slipping inside while his nose nudges your clit and your hands fly to his hair. gojo hums into your cunt, affirmations of good girl mixed in with moans that send chills up your body.

“close, aren’t ya?” you roll your eyes at how he’s so confident now, sobriety coming to light a bit and rum leaving his system the moment he’s got your pussy in between his lips, but he’s not wrong because you can feel the coil in your stomach twisting and turning, hearing him groan out when he uses a free hand to stroke himself.

his tongue returns to your clit and gojo sucks hard until you’re pulling on his stark white hair, screaming out his name and profanities as you cum, leaking so much juices that it’s made a dark red spot on the inside of your dress. he laughs softly into your core before he’s back to slurping all of it up again and your legs close involuntarily; all he does is tut and spreads them again and he’s on a mission to make up to his mistake of ever thinking of leaving you.

your body is limp by your third orgasm, grasping at satoru to feel him and he takes your hand to plant kisses on them, and to tell you to wait. but that almost proves difficult for you when he’s got you all spread out like this and the quiet, dazed gojo is gone momentarily because he finally knows what he wants.

even if he had to fuck you silly and plant strawberries himself and make more coffees and open up old wounds again, gojo is going to do it all, because the call of his name is sounding more and more like heaven each time and he’s tired of burning at the side when he’s willing to fight fire with fire.

“satoru,” you whine out when gojo places your legs on his shoulder, and it gets him so much deeper in you, buried to the hilt. by now, you’re getting bent into half as he eases his cock into you with a groan, your soaking core laced with juices acting as lube.

“what is it, sweetness?” he asks breathlessly, pressing a soft kiss to your ankle and you’re mewling out again. god, he wanted you like this every minute of the day.

“f-feels s’good,” you moan out, fingers wrapped around his forearms as they grip onto your waist.

the other leans forward and you clench up at how your body folds even more, eyes hooded and soft pants leaving your lips.

“i know, baby, i know,” the glimpse to your lips is brief but you catch it as he coos, and you close the gap as satoru starts his pace, sinking into your warm pussy like it’s a drug. your lips intoxicate him more than rum ever will, slipping his tongue in you and he can’t help but nibble on your bottom lip, a grunt of how tight you are whispered against you.

as gojo continues to rut into you, your lips are continually captured by the other’s, small, sweet kisses leaving your heart beating as his eyes bore into yours before his hand reaches down to rub at your clit, sending sparks throughout your body.

the room is filled with the scent of sex paired with the squelching noises of your cunt, sucking him in so well that his hips falter and he loses his speed whilst admiring you; the you whose pupils look like they’ve morphed into hearts and your jaw remains slack from how good he rails into you.

a man whose feelings weren’t this strong wouldn’t fuck into you like this, wouldn’t make you cum thrice like you’re his baby and then fuck you nice after. a man like that won’t get up fifteen minutes earlier to boil water or swap out an old tube of face wash when it runs out.

but are you even ready? even with the undeniable pull satoru has on you, you cannot get the feeling of being thrown aside when you’ve done your part out of your chest, the weight crushing you worse than his body weight in the morning.

“s’toru! s-shit,” you whimper, legs tightening around his shoulder as your hands scramble to grab his hair, feeling already so fatigued and yet, you’re dizzy on the way gojo satoru makes you feel. satoru is no different, an immovable haze settling over his eyes when he stares and he’s so caught up in everything — your eyes, your hips, your hair splayed out below him that he’s blurting out the first thing in his mind. “i love y— this fuckin’ pussy, fuck.”

his heart is pounding, and he stops abruptly at the stifled slip-up, mouth dry when you shoot him a confused look and a small satoru? you okay?

“y— yeah.”

i couldn’t do it.

gojo gulps and he feels tears well up in his eyes. it’s weird, for all his confidence at the start begins to dwindle at such simple words that he can’t mutter out and he shakes his head, burying himself into the crook of your neck and you’re brought back into bliss when he continues, taking note of the slight turmoil he’s going through.

gojo feels like he cannot breathe when you pull him from your neck, albeit with difficulty; both your eyes flutter close as his forehead collides with yours, and he just savours this moment with (hopefully) no judgement from you. he breathes in your scent, takes in your moans in his ears as his pace slows and he angles his hips and his eyes open to meet yours again right as you both cum, pumping you full with mingling moans as you gush all over his cock.

and just like the first night, you’re drawing him in with everything — he falls harder when he sees you reluctantly ignore the tears in his eyes, knowing he didn’t want to talk about it, knowing you’d be asking about it later. with your gentle voice, your fiery touch.

gojo never liked to feel vulnerable, but at thirty he thinks it’s time for a change when you first embroiled him in this complicated arrangement of quiet, yet tumultuous feelings. he can feel the three words weigh his lips down when you’re brushing away the tears later with a sad smile, scooting yourself closer to the chest that’s doing a bad job of hiding his heartbeat.

“what’s gotten my satoru cryin’, hm?”

gojo sniffles at my, holding onto one of your hands, and he says nothing but only succumbs to your arms when you tuck him under your chin, feeling safe in your chest as you both fall into routine. silence befalls the night, a certain dread taking over him that you’d be gone by morning as his breaths even out.

but when birds sing in the morning, his heart sings louder at the sight of you reading a book beside him in an old shirt he was convinced was lost, the faint smell of toast waiting for you outside. he’s tucked into your side and his arms have naturally wrapped around your body, your own playing gently with his hair and gojo thinks not all is bad when you read between the lines of his feelings. because as much as he knew you, you knew him and his habits, his quirks, too, and there’s an unsaid rule about how—

satoru never liked to feel vulnerable.

vulnerability was a state of exposure, like the way he accidentally burns himself while cooking pancakes or feeling the heat of the coffee radiate off your cup. it was like standing bare in your shower, eyes locked onto yours while he cleans you up. it was like letting his heart be stripped away by you who peels away the layers like you do to his underwear and the hard-boiled egg on the stove and the orange in the grocery bag.

it was like loving you, even if it tears at his technique and mocks the very powers he’s perfected to be untouchable, but you’re able to permeate his barriers and neutralise his infinity with something as simple as a kiss to his forehead.

that, gojo satoru may never be able to understand, but like himself, he doesn’t need to know every single thing.

all he knows is that with the way you capture his heart, he knows freedom from your embrace is something unattainable, but he wouldn’t have it any other way — that in itself is enough for his stubborn heart.

a/n: IM HERE IM JERE SORRY FOR GOING AWOL

wc: 1.6k

warnings: dom!geto, fem!reader, infidelity / cheating, reader is a teacher, oral / cunnilingus, semi exhibitionist sex, fingering, clit stimulation, pussy slapping, unprotected sex although geto pulls out, praise, he calls you ’slut’ once, n*sfw under the cut

“g-geto-san!” your hand immediately flies to your mouth at the loud moan you let out, propped up so beautifully on the L-shaped sofa while his wife stays sleeping. you look so different than when you commanded the classroom, so pliant and perfect.

“quiet, baby.” geto mumbles against your cunt, using his stronger arms to pull your pelvis closer to him.

your — hookup? acquaintance? — wasn’t one to cheat. it’s a funny thing to say that although he’s married while he has you soaking right through to the fabric below you but his wife wasn’t that innocent either.

the love had died long ago when geto had found that she wasn’t treating mimiko and nanako right, either being rude to them or forgetting to pick them up, small things like that. she didn’t like the extra weight and burden of suguru’s single fatherhood and that already should’ve been a sign and yet he’d put a ring on her — the pussy was too good, he guesses.

until he’s enrolling the girls in classes after passing a dance school, getting to meet you as their teacher. gentle, upbeat, and just oozing with kindness. you’d even went as far to wait with the girls when geto had been late in picking them up.

the lines have blurred since then, smeared so badly to the point you forgot how you ended up on geto suguru’s couch after locking up the studio. their aunt had already picked mimiko and nanako up and you couldn’t just resist after geto said he’d want to get to know you better.

oh, he was getting acquainted just fine.

“mmfhm . .” geto hummed into your cunt, licking stripe after stripe up your folds as your juices pool on his tongue, “cunt’s the best i’ve ever tasted.”

you burned at the praise; it’s no doubt geto has had many people before you but he really did mean it. so much sweeter and intoxicating, and the little sounds you made added everything.

“geto-san . .” you mumble just before he digs in, letting you pull on his hair so his head would tilt up.

“i’m eating you out and you’re still callin’ me by my last name?” geto laughs at your stammers, “’m just kidding—”

“are you sure?” he knows you’re referring to his wife just inches away, but he only scoffs. a hand goes to your clit, thumb rubbing the nub and you whine.

“been the surest once i saw you. i was going to die getting to know you.”

you stifle a laugh, “dramatic ass.”

geto smacks your pussy lightly, loving the way you tighten around nothing. your heels dig into his back as he hovers over your core and you have to steady your breathing.

“knew it from the moment you treated my girls right . .” he trails off before latches his mouth around your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue and your hips push up more into his mouth. he moans at that, securing the hold he has on your thigh. you briefly catch how his hands go down to his centre.

“t-that’s just . . the bare minimum— ah! though,” you mewl out, trying to keep your moans to a low as the man below you does not care whatsoever. he slobbers all over your cunt, juices coating the bottom of his face until it’s dripping wet.

“still.” the one word then convinces you that maybe the lady sleeping from beside you wasn’t exactly the best, but you will away the thoughts once suguru drags his tongue down to your hole and his eyes bore holes into yours. he continually nudges his tongue against your clit, the lewd slurping noises making you clench around him.

“hear yourself, pretty?” you feel the grin against your folds and all you can do is whine, “she’s just dripping, isn’t she?”

you nod mindlessly, hands shakily taking his from your thigh and moving them to your neglected entrance. “need y-your—”

geto hums and indulges you, pressing his finger right into you and you moan out loud. his wife stirs for a bit and despite everything your pussy flutters at the aspect of getting caught — suguru smiles.

“dirty slut.” he mutters against your pussy, starting to pump his finger slowly and you tug harder on his black locks. there’s so much arousal everywhere even as he eases his second finger in and the stretch is so delicious.

“s-suguru . .” you trail off, head thrown back at how much thicker and longer his fingers are, “s’good—”

“yeah?” and to your dismay his hands stop, blessed with the cute pout that graces your face and he just laughs, standing to reveal his aching bulge and you’re peeling off his underwear for him.

“wanted to feel you around me, tha’s all,” he slurs in pleasure, licking his lips when he first sees your surprised face. you look cockdrunk already, hearts forming in your pupils.

“will it fit, suguru-san?” you whisper in awe, pumping it slowly and using a finger to collect the pre-cum that’s collected. he groans softly at that.

“it will, just gotta relax for me, alright baby girl?” you nod as he gently pushes your legs up, folding you in half while his tip brushes against your sex. there, he moves his hips, collecting your arousal, just barely putting the tip in. just like his hand earlier, he slaps his cock along your folds and grins at your squeamish movements.

“goin’ in, darling,” geto whispers and pushes in slowly. he’s so focused on the way your cunt stretches, a moan sounding out from deep in his throat while you hold on tightly to his biceps. small pants leave your mouth, seeing the silhouette of his pelvis slowly descend on yours while he bottoms out.

“s-suguru— f-full!”

“that so?” geto breathlessly chuckles before he moves and he has to still his hips just to compose himself at the feeling of your walls. so warm and accommodating. “baby, you feel so damn good . .”

suguru moves soon enough and you relish in the fact how you’ve managed to get such a composed man to break — always so polite and well-mannered when picking his girls up and yet now his hair falls from his hair tie and his cock is reacts so well to your drooling cunt.

this position has geto reaching deeper into you, his thrusts already turning sloppy and he pushes down on your legs more.

“close— ’m close suguru—” you whine out and there’s a teasing comment (“already?”) that leaves his lips, but he can’t speak too when he feels his high approaching too. a man like him reduced to such a fast orgasm has him blushing and yet he can’t resist your cunt.

your hands grasp aimlessly at geto as he smoothly places your legs on his shoulder and he leans down to capture your lips — “feels good, suguru . .”

the both of you hardly care about the person on the couch, mingling moans filling the room as you whimper into the kiss. your cunt continues to clench around him, feeling every vein and shape of his cock and committing it to memory just as he is with you; he thinks he doesn’t want to fuck any pussy ever again.

“’course it feels good, it’s b’cause you’re doing so well,” geto whispers against your lips and he takes note of how praise gets you going when he can feel your pussy throb. “oh? you like that, huh?”

you whisper a soft ‘yeah’ to him and you preen at another good girl he gives you, letting him embrace you fully as he stays buried in your neck. the feeling is all too much, the friction of his pelvis and the drag of his length along your walls that you cum immediately. your cunt gushes around him, and all you can do is babble into his ear.

“that’s it, i got you,” he mumbles against your neck, soft kisses placed there as lets you ride out your orgasm, the squelching of your pussy only increasing in volume as you tremble around him.

“cumming, baby,” geto says as he twitches, one last sloppy thrust into you before he pulls out and pumps his cock with loud drawn out groans. rope after rope of cum leaves his tip, staining your stomach and pussy in white and the both of you pant in unison, small smiles on your face.

“next time i’m cumming deep inside you,” geto says even when at the corner of his eye, he can see his wife slowly coming to consciousness and the shock register on her face that he’d stoop as low as her — random guys she brings to their house exchanged for one sweet teacher with an even sweeter pussy.

and geto suguru goes right to fucking you again and drawing the most sultry moans until she stomps away with anger and slams the door so hard it might’ve come off its hinges.

there’s only a shrug from geto at your distraught expression, but he resolves it soon enough with a hand to your clit, rubbing languid circles into it that you choke out a moan.

“are you sure it’s alrig—!”

“perfectly, baby,” he takes your hand and plants a kiss to it; it’s so gentle like other times, where he’d bring you to some quiet cafe to avoid being seen, or just a simple dinner in his home and you hate how you’re already falling for a married father and still, the thrill was just too good.

suguru puts your hand around his cock and you move with second nature.

“your pussy’s much prettier and better anyway.”