lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa

[lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa]

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Starring: True from! Sukuna in a cabin in the woods... Synopsis: You don't see the point in it; chasing myths on Halloween night, going deeper into the woods than you ever had before. You'd rather be at home than chasing ghosts. But, your best friend insists on finding evidence of the local urban legends, and surely she won't abandon you the moment you find what shes been hunting, right? Content Warning: Tonight we are serving True form (two dicks) Sukuna, double penetration, tummy bulges, cunnilingus, kidnapping, marking, slight dubcon, and a soft Sukuna if you squint. reader discretion is advised

“So, remind me again why we’re taking a walk in the woods on Halloween night?” You asked your friend, narrowly avoiding a thorn vine as you pushed past the brush. 

“Because, historically speaking, people tend to see it on Halloween!” She explained, holding up her camera, “It’s our best chance of finding evidence of the spider demon.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her optimism.

“I don’t know if “Historically” is the right word to use there,” you grumbled softly as you continued your walk together. Ever since the two of you had started taking that Folklore Studies class for an extra college credit she had become obsessed with the local urban legend: The Spider Demon. To her credit, it was a genuinely interesting topic. 

As far back as town hall kept records of, there were sightings of the beast: a giant humanoid man that was covered in ancient markings, with four arms, four eyes, and a giant mouth on his abdomen. Rumor has it, he was the one at fault for all the disappearances that plagued your small town, dragging poor, innocent souls into some far off lair and feasting on their flesh. 

The sane people knew the real reason for the disappearances though; most of those kids hopped a train and got the fuck out of that dying town while they still could. You couldn’t say you blamed them. If you didn’t go to school here, one of the cheaper colleges around, you wouldn’t be here either. 

Your thoughts came to a halt as the two of you came up on an old stream. You knew it well as the boundary between where it was acceptable to play in the woods, and where was off limits. Everyone in the town had followed this rule. Your great grandparents had this rule engraved in their soul as kids, just as your parents and grandparents had, just as you had. And just as your kids would one day. No one really knew why you weren’t supposed to cross the water, just that you weren’t.

And your best friend was trying to hop across. “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doin’?!” You yelled as you grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She looked at you as if you had just grown two extra heads.

"I'm crossing the stream?" She asked as if you were the insane one here.

"Yeah, I can see that dipshit!" You snapped, "Why the hell would you do that?!"

"To get to the other side?"

"What are you, a chicken?! You know we're not supposed to cross this stream." Your friend dramatically rolled her eyes, making her annoyance clear.

"The only chicken here is you Y/n." She scoffed. "Come on, it's just water. It can't hurt you." She said in a tone meant to mock assurance. It grinded your bones and made you wonder why you were friends to begin with.

"Don't be like that. Everyone in this town has been told since birth not to cross that stream, there has to be a reason why."

"The reason why is probably so little kids don't drown." She explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire world. It made you want to rearrange her teeth. "I'm going to cross the stream and keep the hunt going, are you with me or not Y/n?" She asked.

You took a deep breath. You absolutely were not with her. Every fiber in your being was setting off red flags, you could hear your ancestors screaming at you to turn around, somewhere from the great beyond, both Cain and Abel look at you and say "girl, don't do it." 

And yet, you started to jump across the rocks. As annoying as your friend was, she was still your friend, and you couldn't let her go alone. Your ancestors all collectively face palm, your nerves explode, Cain turns to Abel and shakes his head. There's no saving you now. You swore the air temperature dropped by at least three degrees as you made it to the other side of the stream. You cursed softly as you wrapped your jacket tighter around you, and rushed to catch up with your friend.

“See? We crossed the water and we didn’t explode! Some rules are just made to be broken.” She seemed confident in that, but you still weren’t. Something was so…off. Wrong. But you couldn’t figure out what. The moon was still as full as ever, lighting your way as the two of you walked. Your friend seemed fine, as chatty as hell even. And you were physically okay. Leaves crunched under your shoes, and the crickets chirped-

Wait. No they didn’t. “Hey, shush.” You demanded of your friend.

“What!? Why should I-”

“I said Shut. Up.” You snapped, an unfamiliar edge to your voice taking even you by surprise. She shut up, and you struggled to listen to the sounds of the forest. Except, there were no sounds of the forest. No crickets singing, no owls hooting, not even the rustle of a field mouse in the grass. The woods were completely silent, filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing. 

“Do you hear that?” You asked your friend.

“I don’t hear anything.” She scoffed.

“Exactly. We need to turn back.”

“What?! No way!” She protested with a stomp of her foot. You were really starting to think that Darwinism would not look kindly upon your friend.

“The woods are completely quiet.” You pointed out, “That doesn’t happen unless it has a reason to be quiet. We’re not welcome here.” You tried to argue. You would have been better off arguing with the moon itself. Your friend just shook her head as she continued to walk.

“The woods are always quiet Y/n, its what makes it so peaceful, or whatever.”

“But not this quiet!” You pleaded as you chased after her, still not willing to let her die out here alone. “Dude, please, we need to go-!”

“Ooo, whats that!” Your “best friend” quickly changed the topic as she pointed out a building off in the distance, running off to check it out. You felt your stomach fall to the floor. Who would build anything out here? You ran to follow her, deciding to just drag her back home if you had to. 

“Its a house!” She pointed out with a laugh as the two of you reached the edge of a lawn, “And they even decorated for Halloween, how sweet.” You looked at the house, an old wooden cabin that looked like something a pilgrim would have built back in the 1700s. You were shocked to see lights glowing in the window, indicating the building had electricity. That wasn’t what unnerved you the most though.

That would be the bones littering the yard. Animal and human alike, some looking older than others. All strewn about as if thrown there without any care, or sense of design. They looked more like discarded trash than they did decor, and a morbid part of your brain forced you to ask; do those maybe look a little too real to be made of plastic? You blood felt colder than ice as your throat contracted, an unseen anaconda choking you as your knees threatened to give out.

This place was cursed. “You should go knock.” Your friend smirked.

“I would rather die.” You whispered.

“I’m serious!” She laughed, “Go trick or treating! You’d probably be the first one to do so here.” 

“No way, this isn’t right. Why would they “decorate” for Halloween all the way out here? Why are they out here to begin with? It doesn’t make sense, we need to go.”

“Well, I’m not leaving until you go knock on the door.” Your friend shrugged as if she wasn’t signing your death certificate. “These kind people deserve trick or treaters, and I deserve to take a picture of you scared shitless as you knock on the door.” She laughed.

“That’s not funny!” You snapped, your patience growing thinner as your anxiety grew.

“Oh come on Y/n! Don’t be such a bitch, just go knock on the door and then we can go, okay? I promise.”

“...Swear?” You asked softly, at this point willing to do whatever it took to leave these woods and go home.

“Swear.” Your best friend smiled, locking her pinky with yours. Her smile as angelic, enough to trick you into a facade of ease. You took a deep breath as you approached the door, carefully avoiding the skeletons as you walked. Did they looked chewed on? You didn’t want to think too hard about it. You could feel your heart in your throat, the false courage of your friends pinky promise fleeing faster and faster with every step you took closer to this house. It radiated death.

Climbing the creaky stairs was harder than you anticipated, your jittering joints protesting the very act. You reached a trembling fist to the splintering wooden door, knocking as soft as possible. “H-Hello?” You called out, hating the way your voice quivered, “Trick or Treat!” Your entire body tried to collapse in on itself, the only thing keeping you from doing so was the primal instinct to maintain your ability to run should you so need.

You waited a few seconds, then let out a shaking breath as no one came to the door. As you turned back to your friend, you were blinded by the flash of a camera, freezing you in your place. The sounds of her cackle filled you with rage. You really needed you friends. 

You rolled your eyes. “There I knocked. Are you happy? Can we please go home no-” your words died in your throat as you heard the door open.

“Trick.” a rough deep voice said, deeply unfamiliar to you. You watched your friends face contort into fear and her jaw unhinged itself into a scream as she scrambled to get away. Though, you weren’t able to hear her panic, the ringing in your ears becoming deafening as you felt your feet fall from underneath you, a python of an arm squeezing your stomach as you were lifted into the air, and into the house. 

You tried to grab the door frame as you were dragged into hell, becoming aware of your own screaming ripping through your throat as the frame was ripped from your fingers and the door shut in your face.

“Quite mortal.” The voice said again, and you almost instantly shut up. Something primal in your DNA sequencing knowing better than to piss off this devil. The monster turned you over in his hands, turning you to face him. Your soul left your body. You took in the visage of the beast, your panicking brain struggling to process what was in front of you.

 A giant humanoid man, with four arms, four eyes, and a face and chest full of ancient markings. He was holding you too close to properly see it, not to mention the fact that he was wearing a regal robe, but you would bet an unreasonable amount of money he had a sickening smile on his belly. You were in The Spider Demons claws.

And worst of all, he was kinda cute? Like, maybe it was the unshakeable sense of death that rattled your soul and turned your brain into mush, but if he was like- a normal guy with a normal amount of arms and eyes, you would have been smitten! You were kinda smitten now, even if you didn’t want to admit that. God you…really really hoped this whole experience wasn’t awakening something in you. This would be something to unpack in therapy later- if you survived this.

The demon took your chin in a free hand, turning your head as he examined you. You smelled divine. If you had been a sacrifice for him, he would have given whoever picked you out an A++ for finding you, and a bit more leniency for a while. But, he knew you weren’t a sacrifice. The townsfolk had declared him their enemy long ago, and had been facing the consequences ever since. So, that begged the question.

“Tell me, whats a pretty thing like you doing at my doorstep on the most haunted night of the year?” He asked, turning your head to look him in the eye. 

“Wishing you were a myth.” You went with the first thing that came to your head and instantly regretted it. That might have been a little too honest for this situation. But, at least he seemed to find humor in it, snickering at your quip.

“Keep wishing then human, I’m all too real.” He chuckled darkly. 

“Yeah, I-I see that…Are you going to kill me?” Your voice was shakier than you intended as you asked. You hated it, but the anticipation of what he was going to do was more painful that anything he could have actually done.

“I haven’t decided yet.” He mused as he continued his examination of you. He smiled cruelly as he felt your pulse quicken under his hands. He could smell your fear, and it was intoxicating. Your eyes, blown wide with fear, were stirring something deep down inside of him, and making you far more interesting than any other human he had come across in years.

Or, maybe it had just been a while since he had anyone to fuck. Granted, he had stolen plenty of mortals from your small town, but most of the time they died in the process. Corpses held no interest to him for anything other than food. But you? You were alive and warm, and vulnerable in his claws. That fact alone made the notion of keeping you alive for a little longer far more enticing than killing you just yet. 

“Um, anything I could do to help you make that decision?” You asked softly.

“The decision to kill you?” he questioned

“Well, the decision not too!” You quickly clarified, “Dying sounds kinda, well, not fun  and with you being like, a real thing that kinda makes me question well everything as far as mythology goes and that makes dying really fucking scary and-”

“You’re rambling mortal.” He sneered in annoyance.

“Right! My bad I just- please don’t kill me. I’ll do anything not to die.” You begged, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as you grappled with being forced to face the unknown. You had the beasts attention though, an eyebrow raising at your offer.

“Anything?” He purred, his eyes falling to the swell of your chest and making you greatly regret your word choice. “Anything at all?”

“Anything.” You whispered softly. You reasoned with yourself that this was for your life and definitely not because the thought of getting railed by a blood thirsty demon made you squish your thighs together in anticipation. You for sure didn’t feel a rush of arousal as the thought of something meant to kill you making you cum instead crossed your mind. That didn’t happen, no way, not at all. You weren’t wondering if his dick was as monstrous as he was, or if his markings graced it as well.

“Alright then Human, deal.” He grinned wickedly as he brushed a stray hair behind your ear. “I’ll let you live, if you give your body to me first.” You felt your face burn at his proposal. Something felt fundamentally wrong about spreading your legs for a demon. You weren’t religious or anything, but that had to be some sort of sin. But, if it was for your life, surely you could indulge- I MEAN- endure. 

“Before I agree, we’re not talking about possession, right?” You had to clarify. He smirked at your words. You were cleaver to ask, it showed a familiarity with the supernatural. Maybe you weren’t as foolish as you first seemed after all.

“Smart girl. But no, we’re not talking about possession.” He confirmed. 

“Okay, cool, just checking.” You chuckled nervously. “You got yourself a deal.” His smirk turned into a dark grin as his free hands rushed to your clothes. You panicked, knowing he was going to rip them off and you’d be forced to walk back in the nude. That would have been mortifying.

“Wait wait wait!” You yelped, holding up your arms to stop his hands. 

“What?” He growled, annoyance flooding his tone.

“Let me undress myself.” You requested, “Please? I’ll make it worth your while.” He seemed intrigued and amused, setting you on the ground with an almost unnerving gentleness. 

“Will you now? Lets see.” He hummed. You nodded, taking a few steps back. You took a deep breath and shrugged your jacket off your shoulders. You had never been particularly good at being sexy, at least not in your opinion. But, The monsters eyes could have convinced you otherwise. The way he watched you undress, as if he was a starving man looking at a thanksgiving feast, or a hungry demon looking at his next meal. It gave you the confidence to put on a proper show, teasing him as you slowly shed your clothes.

“I’m Y/n by the way,” You said as your hands reached to unhook your bra, “You got a name, or is it just spider demon?” He huffed humorlessly at your quip. He never liked that title. 

“Ryomen Sukuna,” He said, his eyes setting fire to your skin as you finally dropped your bra for him, “you can call me Sukuna.” 

“Noted.” You nodded as you dropped your panties. His lustful grin showed off his incredibly sharp fangs as he dropped his own robe, the only thing covering him. You confirmed the mouth theory, seeing it spread and hungrily panting across his toned abs. Your breath hitched when you saw when he was working with. 

His dick- or rather, dicks- looked human enough despite the markings, but they were longer and thicker than anything you had taken before. And again, there were two of them. They stood hard and proud against his stomach, twitching to be inside you. You didn’t know if the buzzing in your hands and legs was from regret, or excitement.

You didn’t have time to figure it out either before you were taken back into the demons arms, this time with less violence and more neediness. He pressed you to his stomach, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist and leaving you open to him.

“You’re pretty brave for a human, you know that?” He complimented as a large tongue lolled out of his stomach mouth and against your soaking core. He chuckled darkly as the muscle shoved itself into your weeping cunt, making you gasp at the sudden stretch, “And such a slut too.”

“Hey, this was your idea, not mine.” You reminded him though breathy moans, trying to ground yourself as your hips bucked against his giant mouth. Every movement of the tongue felt like being touch for the first time, a ripple of pleasure coursing though your stomach and legs, and making you wonder there was something supernatural going on to make a demonic act feel so heavenly.

“True,” He agreed, “But you’re the one that's gushing for a monster when I’ve hardly touched you.” he reminded you, watching the way your face contorted with pleasure as you dropped the act of innocence. He didn’t know what was more arousing to him, watching your resolve dissolve, or just how sweet you tasted as you desperately you rode his tongue. “I was going to kill you just a few moments ago, you know that right?” He growled into you ear.

“Yeah, but you’re fucking me instead. Sounds like a win to me.” You grinned and he laughed at your sudden audacity. He knew he liked you.

“You really are a whore, Aren’t you?” He teased as his tongue slipped out of your cunt and into your ass instead, watching the way your breasts bounced as you flinched and moaned at the sudden intrusion. 

“Not a whore if it’s for my life.” You whined, digging your nails into his shoulders. You were starting to feel light headed from the pleasure pooling in your stomach, your cunt clenching around nothing, pissed off from the loss.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself.” He chuckled as his face fell to the crook of your neck, taking in your intoxicating smell. He could feel his dicks twitch with need as he kissed you there, fighting every instinct in his body to keep from digging his teeth into the thin skin. He tasted your sweet slick as it dripped from your cunt and onto the middle of his tongue, and finally he withdrew the muscle. 

You whined as he did, head dropping to his chest, both holes now clenching around nothing. “No, fuck-” You whimpered, only for him curl a clawed finger under your chin and lift your head to face him. “Sukuna..” You whimpered as you looked into his fire red eyes, darkened by lust. His lips crashed into yours, capturing you in a heated kiss. You sighed against his mouth, hands rising to tangle into his soft pink hair as his tongue tangled with yours.

You screamed into his mouth as you felt him shove both of his cocks into you at once, one for each hole. He growled, biting down on your lip as you clenched around him. “Sukuna!” You gasped as you pulled back from the kiss, your body trying hard to push out the sudden intrusion.

“Relax for me Darling,” He groaned softly, the pet name slipping out without his permission. He pressed his forehead to yours as he rubbed your stomach, trying to ease your pain.

“I-I can’t. Too big..” You panted, trying desperately to release the tension in your shoulders. The stretch was searing you from the inside out. You felt overwhelmed, the pleasure in the pain feeling like static shocks. “It’s soo much..”

“You can handle it,” He assured you, extremely (perhaps overly) confident in your ability considering you had met less than an hour ago. You shook your head, tears slipping from your eyes. He lapped them up from your face, then captured your lips in a much softer kiss this time. Slowly, your body came to accept his, the tension melting away as his tongue tangled with yours and he eased his way further into you. The burn faded, leaving just the pleasure there, pulsating through you as he pushed deeper. 

He groaned into your lips as he bottomed out into you, stilling both to give you time to adjust and so he didn’t immediately cum in you like a fucking virgin. It was almost embarrassing how good you felt around him, taking him better than any other being had before. You clenched and fluttered around him in a sinful way, bringing him closer to his climax than he would like to admit.

“Told you.” He smirked as he pulled away from the kiss, licking at the string of saliva that connected the two of you. You whined as you looked down to where the two of you were connected, watching a bulge in your stomach appear and disappear with every thrust of his hips. It should have hurt, but no- quite the opposite.

 Every thrust of his hips electrified you with pleasure, sending wave after wave of intoxicating bliss through your nervous system. You had never felt so full before, so complete. You could feel his cocks rub against each other, against your walls inside of you, a dizzying sensation that you had never experienced before. Your hips bucked against him greedily as he fucked you, chasing your high.

“Look at me Y/n,” He demanded, pulling your head up so your eyes connected with his again, “I want you know the demon making you feel so good.” 

“Ryomen-” You whined, forgetting in your sea of lust that wasn’t the name he told you to use. His eyes widened a bit from shock. Mostly because he wasn’t filled with rage by your insolence, but instead a surge of lust from hearing his name fall from your lips. It really had been awhile, he was feeling himself getting attached far too easily. If he knew what was good for him, he would have finished and disposed of you as quickly as possible. He wasn’t interested in what was good for him.

“Say it again.” He demanded, a hand slipping in between you to rub circles into your clit. 

“Ryomen..” You whined, staring at him with fucked out, lust clouded eyes as you trembled in his arms, thighs clenching around his abdomen as the ecstasy crashed through your core and through out your body. You felt your muscles ripple and tense in anticipation. 

“Again,” He growled, pulling you closer to him, and dropping his forehead down to yours. “Who does this cunt belong to?”

“Ryomen..” Your brain was too clouded to make out the rest of his command, your body buzzing and bliss building up inside of you. He picked up his pace, chasing his own high and making you scream out his name in a truly embarrassing and needy moan. 

You clung onto his shoulders and neck, digging your nails into the soft skin there as the euphoria in your veins finally boiled over and hit the fire inside of your stomach, igniting it in an explosion of ecstasy and lust. Your vision exploded with stars and your brain officially clocked out of work as you melted into a puddle. Your legs shaking around him as you leaned against his strong body, unable to keep yourself up any longer.

Your velvety walls quivered around him and sucked him in impossibly deeper, needy and lustful for him. It drove him mad. He watched as your face scrunched in pleasure, your body reacting to him greedily as you melted into the pleasure he he was gracing you with. 

It send him over the edge watching you cum for him, feeling you cum over him, feeling you gush around him. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer, holding you in a grip tight enough to bruise. His fangs buried themselves into your neck, marking you as his and his alone as he came deep inside of you, the warm strings gushing in you and filling you to the point of spilling over.

He held you close to him, head hung back as you both tried to catch your breath. Your mind was starting to clear the fog out, looking up to ask him to put you down before you felt him move inside you again. Your breath hitched as you realized he didn’t even get a little soft. You looked at him with almost horrified eyes as he bucked into you, only acting to encourage him. He looked back at you with lustful and wicked eyes, nipping at your lip as he set his pace and grinned.

“Whats wrong Darling?” He asked, the pet name now fully intentional in its use, “You didn’t think I was done with you yet, did you?” 

🎃🎃🎃

You were warm when you woke up, despite still being in the nude. Probably because of the huge body pressed against yours, radiating heat and holding you close as he slept. Visions of last night ran though your head, making you almost painfully aware of the cum still dripping from between your thighs, and sending another wave of arousal through you. When did you pass out? When did Ryomen?

You stayed still for a few seconds, listing to your bedfellows steady breathing. The bed, despite being made from feathers and thin quilting, was surprisingly soft, and the late afternoon sun filled the old home with a warm hazy light. You realized you couldn’t stay here any longer. You couldn’t get attached to an urban legend. 

You slipped out of his arms, freezing as he groaned and only breathing again once he was softly snoring. You sighed as you slipped out of the bedroom and found your clothes again. You quickly got dressed, and went to open the front door. It didn’t budge. Your eyes furrowed in confusion as you pulled the knob again. What the hell? You pulled with all your might, almost screaming with frustration as the door didn’t even move a centimeter. 

“Don’t bother with that Dove.” You gasped as you heard Ryomens voice behind you, a wave of dread blanketing you as you spun to face him. He was leaning casually against the door frame of the bedroom, a content smile painted on his face. “It has my seal on it. I’m the only one that can open that door.”

[lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ WAKING THEM UP TO FUCK!

PAIRINGS: SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO, TOJI FUSHIGURO, KENTO NANAMI.

WARNINGS: MDNI!!! female reader, pet names, (gojo) cuddle fucking, (geto) missionary, light teasing, (toji) cowgirl, him being a lazy bastard, (nanami) doggy, ass slapping

SATORU GOJO: just as horny as you are.

the air around you is sweltering as you wake from your dream, but you swear your core feels even hotter.

you’re already soaked, panties sticking to your skin. sticking uncomfortably at that. it’s early, too early to even think about trying to get off. causing you to try to wiggle around and get comfortable again so you could go back to sleep before you feel an arm sling around your waist.

“can’t keep squirming like that, baby.” satoru’s voice is low in your ear with the slightest rasp. enough rasp to make your cunt clench around absolutely nothing and for your body to involuntarily squirm again.

“sorry, satoru. just got woken up from a dream.”

“oh?” his slender fingers rub up and down your side, lingering a little longer when they reached your hip. “is that why your panties are so wet?”

you frown. you know he’s used to this and it doesn’t bother him at all, but you still feel bad for waking him in the night so frequently.

“‘m sorry, ‘toru. i know you have to work tomorrow.” he hooks his chin over your shoulder and giggles into your neck.

“don’t be sorry, pretty girl, not faring much better than you right now.” you feel him shallowly thrust against your ass, feeling how hard his cock is. “how about you help me out and i help you?” his fingers slip from your waist to the top of your panties and once you nod your head, he’s pulling them down just far enough to uncover your pussy.

“this is why sleeping naked is so worth it,” he pauses as he lines up with your entrance and begins to push in, the pair of you moaning when he sinks in all the way, “makes it so i can help my girl faster.”

you whimper when his hand moves to grip your waist, holding you closer to him as he begins to thrust. your pussy squelching from how wet you were.

“were you having a good dream baby? that why you’re so soaked f’me?” you moan again in response, frantically nodding your head.

“yeah?” he thrusts into you harshly and groans, “tell me allllll about it, pretty, and i’ll make it come true.”

SUGURU GETO: tired until he slips it in.

you knew better than to wake up suguru late on a work night, but you were aching so badly and it wasn’t something just your own fingers could fix.

his raven hair was spread across his pillow and his arm was slung across his eyes to black any of the light in the room. he looked unbelievably beautiful and hot, even though you couldn’t see his whole face.

“please baby?” you whisper, kissing the column of his neck. “i won’t do it again. i promise.” the corner of his lips tug into a smirk and his hand snakes down to palm his growing erection.

“you’re so lucky i love you.” you smile when he lazily rolls on top of you. your face scrunching into pleasure when he runs a finger through your wet slit.

“no panties baby? sure you weren’t planning on waking me up?” his voice still laced with sleep.

“no, never.” you smile up at him again, eyes low as you watch him jerk his thick cock a few times before lining in up with your sopping hole. pushing in just the tip to play with you.

“don’t tease right now, need you so bad.”

“yeah?” he pauses to yawn, eyes squinting, but never moving from the sight of your pussy stretching around the head. “how bad, baby?”

“so bad, please don’t make me beg.” you roll your hips into him and stick out your bottom lip. he groans, not wanting to tease you more for your and his sake.

“y’so lucky i’m sleepy and don’t wanna tease.” he says, throwing your legs over his shoulder as he begins to sink into you further. both of you throwing your head back and his eyes snapping shut.

“ohh fuck.” he growls. hips rolling forward to meet yours and your skin making a slight slapping sound when they connect. suguru leans over to grip the headboard. long, messy hair dangling in his face.

“so sorry for waking you up, ‘guru.” you whine as he reaches so impossibly deep inside you. the headboard beginning to smack against the wall.

“don’t be sorry, baby, i’m wiiiide awake now.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO: he’ll wake up, but makes you do the work.

“toji, baby?” you lightly shake his arm to no avail. “tooooji.” you throw the duvet off of your hot skin and shake him once more, grinning when he stirs from his sleep.

“what’re y’waking me up at this time for?” he rubs his eyes with his fists and looks at the small digital clock on his nightstand. the deep rumble of his voice and the slur of his words only served to make your core ache even more than it already did. tracing his happy trail with your eyes down to the waistband of his sweatpants and fixating your gaze on his bulge.

“‘m so horny, baby.” you swing a leg over his torso and straddle him, the heat of your clothed pussy radiating onto the part of him your wanted most.

“yeah? y’want me to fix that, don’tcha?” you nod your head and see his scarred lips tug into a smirk as he flips the rest of the duvet off of his legs. feeling one of his large hands rub your side. his eyelids low and eyes still bleary from being woken up. “hop on f’me, princess.”

your hands gently, but quickly, tug down his grey sweats, practically drooling when his hard cock springs free from its confines and slaps his stomach. you push your own panties to the side and slowly begin to sink down on him, already moaning loudly just from the stretch. his hands rest lazily on your hips as you begin to bounce on him. throwing your head back in ecstasy when you get the angle just right.

“baby?” you whisper out, already breathless.

“hm?”

“you’re not gonna help?” he smirks again and tucks one of his arms behind his head.

“nah, baby. y’woke me up. i’m gonna enjoy my show.”

KENTO NANAMI: was never asleep in the first place.

you awake to the sounds of your bedroom door shutting gently and rustling in your dresser drawers.

your eyes open slowly, trying to adjust to the light the lamp on nanami’s nightstand produces. finally focusing on the blonde undoing his tie in front of the mirror. you don’t bother to look at the time, you know it’s late by the way nanami’s posture is slightly drooped.

“kento?” you barely whisper, voice still waking up with you. he turns to look in your direction as he untucks his dress shirt and begins to unbutton it.

“hi honey,” he stops to fumble with a tricky button on his shirt, “shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“maybe, but i’d rather see you.” and boy is that the truth.

your eyes ghost across his body, taking in the way his jaw clenches, how tight his pants are around his thighs, the tuft of hair peeking out from the top his shirt, finally stopping when you notice that his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and exposing his bulging arms.

“that so?”

“mhm.” you flip the blanket off your legs, revealing the nightgown you were wearing. his favorite nightgown to be exact. “was missin’ you.”

“i can tell.” his shirt is thrown into the hamper, or at least he thinks it is. he was too preoccupied by how pretty you looked in that little gown to double check.

he keeps watching as you hop up from the bed, the hem of your gown barely covering your ass as you walked over in the direction of the hamper. his cheeks flushed when you bent over and he could see every bit of your glistening pussy.

“you missed, silly.” you said as you picked up his discarded shirt and put it properly in the basket. looking back at him over your shoulder and smiling coyly when he began to saunter over to you. simultaneously removing his leather belt from the loops of his pants and fumbling with the zipper.

“beginning to think you woke up on purpose.” he made quick work of freeing his cock from his boxers and dress pants, groaning when you rubbed your wet cunt against him. “naughty girl.”

“mmm, yeah? only for you.” he groans again when you reach behind you to grab his cock and position the tip to your wet hole. smiling back at him once more before pushing your ass back against him and pushing his cock in at the same time.

“you’re such a fuckin’ angel, shit.” he uses one of his hands to bend you over and the other to grip the fat of your hip. you’re wetter than ever and your sweet cunt is sucking him in like your life depended on it.

“sure you can handle it, baby?” you moan out, back arching and giving nanami a delicious view. “i know you have work tomorrow, ken.”

“if you cared about that, you would’ve asked about it first.” he laughs and takes the splayed hand off your back to give your ass two good slaps. “besides, i’d be a damn fool to choose sleep over this.”

a/n: self indulgent sleepy sex for my birfday :3

[lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa]

BAD ROMANCE! — ☆ SATOSUGU.

➤ popstar!gojo mlist.

headline. being sandwiched between a popstar and geto, his bassist best friend was almost like a fever dream. what happens when they start fighting over who can make you moan the highest note? sharing is caring…right?

word count. 5.8k (i am sorry)

warnings. fem! reader, popstar!gojo au, bassist geto, geto has a tongue piercing, threesome, double penetration, manhandling, fucking while standing, size kink, unprotected sex, implied multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, gojo slander (lol)

an. makes sense if u read the first part !! if not that’s okaaay. sry for any errorssss aha

“seriously. join…the two of you?” geto mutters with a subtle eye twitch—you stared at the lead bassist, and he briefly returned a glance. his hands were buried in his pockets, wearing a leather jacket, ripped jeans and a fitted white tank underneath. geto’s hair was a tad bit ruffled with a perfect length wolf cut. “you do realize your fans have been waiting for you for over an hour.”

“oh….right, i did have a concert,” gojo nervously chuckles, running a hand down his neck. “they heard everything too. nanami’s gonna kill me. that’s fun.”

geto’s eyes dart back towards you and suddenly you feel extremely nervous. you could never ever read him, he just a blank stare plastered amongst his face.

“i don’t think we’ve officially met. wish i didn’t have to meet you half-naked but,” and you were embarrassed, feeling the tips of your ears get feverish and abnormally hot. “i’m this idiot’s bassist. suguru ge—”

“bro she didn’t ask for your life story,” gojo groans, and you let off a gasp once he lifts you up, an arm underneath you and another bringing you towards his chest. “sugupoo, you didn’t answer my question.”

“sugupo—” he furrows his eyebrows, repeating the petname. geto grumbles, “…fine, but not here. we can…go back to my hotel or something.”

this was far more than anything you could have imagined. being between two idols. more so gojo but still. you were pretty much left with shredded clothing thanks to gojo barely even an hour ago…

“is she always this sensitive to touch?” geto utters, peeling your the remains of your clothes off — which was basically just a thin robe. he was tantalizingly slow with his hands, the very pads of his fingertips ghosting against your skin made you left off a soft gasp.

“pretty much,” gojo hums, and you watch as the popstar lowers his head to kiss near your thighs. “she’s a little camera shy.”

“what does that even-”

“…nevermind.”

geto was more tame while gojo was far more eager. you make brief eye contact with geto and he leans in toward you. you were expecting him to kiss you but instead, he brings a thumb towards your lip and smiles. “you’re a lot prettier in person, assistant. what are you doing messing around with this idiot?”

“um—”

“none of your business. besides, don’t talk to my work wife like that.” gojo pouts, and he makes you face him directly. 

obviously, he was being nothing but a pure tease. you feel yourself grow hot once gojo presses his lips onto yours. you could hear geto scoffing in the background.

you and gojo weren’t exactly a thing… although, maybe this “thing” was developing into some sort of fling. 

you moan into his mouth, feeling gojo’s hand trail down to part against your thigh before geto pries the two of you off, only to bring you into a much more steamy kiss. 

gojo’s jaw drops dramatically, a squeaky gasp leaving his lips as he watches you make out with geto.

geto was far more passionate and tender by a mile. with a soft thumb grazing beneath your chin, you let off a soft whine. tasting the sugary spiced alcohol on his tongue…..just a tang, but it was enough for you to covet more of him. more of his taste.

“this isn’t…. fair.” gojo nags, yet his body feels otherwise. seeing his bassist of a best friend kiss you deeply, touching all over your body. he started to feel himself get…aroused. 

you feel a cunning smirk go against geto’s lips. with a hand gripped softly underneath your chin, he continues to stroke it soothingly. 

he was so deliberate with his tongue, making sure to savour every inch of you. a groan leaves his mouth as he deepens the kiss for a brisk second. his breath was eminently lukewarm, and you don’t even recollect yourself pulling him closer to your already achey body. 

“suguru, you’re beinʼ stingy,” gojo frowns, starting to think if suggesting him to tag along was a good idea… perhaps not… after all, he was the satoru gojo. he’s never been a fan of share the spotlight.

geto swiftly pulls away and his eye contact against you makes you grow hot. his eyes spoke a thousand words, dirty dirty words though. gojo lets off a vexed sigh before running a hand through his hair. “…i have an idea though.”

“what?” you and geto both speak in low unison. 

the popstar has a cheeky grin on his lips before playfully rolling his eyes, tilting his head. “which can make her louder. then again, i already know i’m gonna win sooo…”

geto utters in the most sassiest tone imaginable, “please. you’d probably be the loudest out of all of us but fine.”

the thought of them both fighting over you, your client, and his best friend as well as his lead bassist.

you firmly clasped your thighs together before shyly drawing circles against the outer part of your arm. “well, he was pretty loud earlier. his fans heard him moaning all through his mic backstage and—”

“tch. shut up..” he grumbles, trying to forget that incident even happened. 

gojo now decides to pulls you into sweet passionate fulfilled kiss, and it’s deep with a bit of tongue.

you were indeed basically naked with the exception of a silk sage-colored robe he bought you as a new year’s eve gift. it hung down your body perfectly, just enough to make out your skin. 

geto makes you slip a whine into gojo’s mouth once he spreads your legs with one hand—you were drenched, soaked….no doubt about it. “no panties,” he mutters in a rough voice. “satoru must’ve beat me to it, hmpf.”

you started to pant the more gojo moved his tongue against yours, you could tell how needy he was. even though he already had a taste from you earlier, he wanted more. you were like some kind of candy, intoxicatingly sweetened. 

he smoothly slides his tongue against your bottom lip, grunting from the leftover taste of your flavored lip gloss that was by this point smeared across your lips. whenever gojo kissed you, you had this warm burning feeling inside. it was indescribable, you knew more than anyone how unprofessional this was…yet it felt good, his touch, his taste, even his rich scent. 

“what a mess. already drenched for me,” geto murmurs, and you peek an eye open to watch the bassist go down, between your legs. you sit up with gojo tilting your head to face him, thighs spread apart and you let off a moan once he starts to work his way. 

slowly, geto creates tender kisses… 

he creates a simple trail, all up your thighs. the softness of his lips pressing against your skin made you whine against gojo’s lips.

gojo moves your chin back to focus back towards him, and he gives your bottom lip an impish bite.

peppering the side parts of your mouth with numerous wet kisses. “mwah,” he’d coo, a teasing gesture yet the stare he gave you made you throb. “my fans heard us…heard you, y’know. how does that make you feel?”

you stare at gojo, and his eyebrows are slightly raised in curiosity. he was such a tease, wanting to know your response. 

geto’s tongue licks against the inner part of your thigh and you moan. that’s when you feel a slight coldness of his tongue piercing run against your skin — it tickles but in the best way imaginable. 

he starts to suck against your skin, a soft ‘pop’ skims past his lips and you whine before gojo squeezes your lips together. 

“heyyy, pretty. ‘m talking to you.” he whispers, leaning in to sneak another kiss on your mouth. 

“i— i liked it,” you utter, geto’s touch from underneath, a finger trailing against your skin with his tongue following shortly afterward made you pulse continuously. “knowing everyone heard me….your die-hard fans, it turned me on a little.”

“yeah? did it really?” he grins, showcasing a casual head tilt. “wow, you really are a kinky girl. but it turned me on too,” he adds, inching his face towards your neck to give it a soft suck. “hmph. next time i should probably fuck you on stage, wouldn’t that be a pretty sight,” he murmurs, his voice playfully lowering. “ooh, it’s probably all over the headlines, but eh, who gives a shit, right? not me, and definitely not her.”

you were just about to let off a mewl once gojo reached down to give your pussy a mean squeeze as soon as he referred to it as ‘her.’

he brings an additional kiss to you before you feel the warmth of geto’s breath fan against your entrance. you start to pant, feeling gojo’s hands roam and wander all against your body. 

an abrupt shock surges throughout your skin from his fingertips and the silk robe you wore. gojo traced a thumb against your nipple—your overly-sensitive nipple that poked through the thin pretty fabric. you were so aroused that your mind raced just as quickly as your heartbeat did. 

“fuck…dunno know what it is about you,” he murmurs, breaking away a few seconds to speak. there was a titillating bass that carried underneath gojo’s tone. 

you could hear it in his voice, how pitchy and low it would get at certain times. “just lookin’ at you gets me s-so hard,” and then he swallowed for a second, departing eye contact out of sheer flusteredness and it was cute. “still a bit…sensitive from earlier though. had the audacity to keep ridin’ me after i c-came.” 

“sorry.” you playfully press your lips together, glancing up at him and he grows embarrassed for a moment at remembering the pure thought. 

the image of him… the satoru gojo and you, his trusty assistant — being on top of the famous well-known pop star, riding him until he whined for just you and only you.

not to mention as well as having him as an entire mess underneath you. he probably was too stubborn to realize it but you had him wrapped around your pretty little finger…

to think that was just about nearly half an hour ago. your thoughts get interrupted from feeling geto’s tongue meekly lick against your inner folds. a sharp breath elicits from your throat as you look down at him already staring at you with a smug grin. 

“toru already got here too?” he whispers, ghosting a thumb against your sodden folds. his slender fingers were so long and lengthy, nails perfectly manicured, and of course, he’d have well-trimmed nails because of his status as a professional bassist.

all things considered, geto would just be godly with his fingers. it was no secret, really…

“of course i fuckin’ did.” gojo pouts, giving him a nettled glare. 

geto snickers. “aw. poor girl,” and then he makes eye contact with you, smugly simpering.

geto takes a second to tie his hair back into a messy ponytail before pursing his lips to speak. “he’s a good singer, yeahhh. but he has a huge lack of skill at eating pussy. trust me.”

“shut up, man..” gojo’s eyes widen, the tips of his ears burning, it was adorable. “that’s…not true.”

it was.

“suguruuu..” you whined, not even realize how much you were desperately aching for him. the two bickering was a constant thing, but you decided to ignore it and let the lust take over. 

“i’m sorry, i should be paying more attention to you,” he mutters, using a hand to shove your right thigh a few inches away.

geto promptly rolls out his tongue….slowly, pink and pretty. clean. your eyes peer at the pretty piercing that laid flat against the center part. “keep these legs spread for me. can you be a good girl ‘n do that?”

you unwittingly feel yourself pulse just from that action of him showing you a good view of his tongue. you give the bassist a pathetic eager nod, a hand running towards the roots of his hair to grip it before he grins. “good, ‘cause ‘m starved.”

“sugu, what… what am i supposed to do?” gojo huffs out. 

“figure it out yourself, popstar.” geto murmurs, and a soft pout twists against gojo’s lips. 

that’s when he makes you turn over to where you’re on your hands and knees—you face forward, most importantly, you face forward right against gojo’s crotch. face front and all.

he lingers near the edge of the bed, towering over you with a hungry gaze before letting off a whine. 

“jus’ look at me….i can’t perform like this,” not like he was going to perform anyway…but you stare at gojo’s body. all he wore was sweats, the original partially bedazzled outfit that was actually geto’s was practically torn. “you gave me this boner, ‘s your fault ‘m all needy.”

geto interrupts the erotic atmosphere with his tongue gradually flicking against your pussy, two rough hands spread the fat of your ass and you whine at how abruptly lewd it was. “oh my g-goddd.”

gojo feels like he has competition with geto, so he frowns—the pout remaining on his pink sheeny lips before he grips ahold of your chin to make you stare straight at him whilst you’re on all fours on the cushioned mattress. 

“been…been wantin’ to finally see what this pretty throat feels like,” 

he sighs, and he watches as you already start to lean into his touch. you’re on the palms of your hands, back slightly arched before you pull the hem of his boxers down with your teeth. “you’re such a little... you…you know what you’re doing..”

gojo lets off a soft grunt, gripping your hair, and as you inch your face closer toward him — a few specks of his neatly scattered brush against his face. you lick against the padded fabric of his boxers, curving your tongue against the print of his bulge and he swallows thickly. 

“you’re so fuckin’ nasty,” he huffs, bringing you all close to his briefs. you stare up at gojo, licking against the thin madematerial before cupping your mouth over his bulge…right near his base, in a much playful manner. “you’re—just asking to have a stuffed full mouth, huh?”

again, geto’s tongue rummaged all throughout your pussy while you absentmindly toying with gojo throws you off for a sudden concise moment. 

he was just as filthy, maybe even filthier. as you propped up—you whimpered, feeling how he ran his tongue all along your sweetened labia. 

your pussy pulsed against his movements, he starts to teasingly nibble on your clit before giving it a loooong suck. 

“mmph.” he’d grumble, and within minutes you could tell you had him entirely drunk. his tongue was just skimming around and against your clit that forevermore clenched. before you know it, you’re starting to intensely jounce and convulse because of the stimulation. 

his tongue laid flat against your pussy, the piercing that stuck against him, the slight coldness of it made you obliviously arch your back a bit more. toes of yours clenched in desire before your mouth opened at his technique.

geto was slow but sensual. 

his tongue… it spiraled against your pussy in a sweet motion to make you sob out a cry. 

“open that mouth,” gojo mutters, his hand still gripping your chin, and you do, parting your lips before watching him spring his dick out. it was throbbing, swollen, and not to mention quite pretty.

he wasn’t lying—you did leave him incredibly sensitive from earlier…

gojo lets off a breathless groan once he watches you kiss the tip of his cock head, which ends up turning into many kisses. his lip quivers the more time he spends staring at you. his breath becomes abnormally shaky, all because of you.

“…don’t tease me,” he whines before wrapping shuddery fingers around his fat length, giving it a few swift pumps before he starts to smear his pre-cum smothered tip all across your lips.

you give the popstar a cute, roguish glance before skimming the tip of your tongue against his frenulum. 

that spot…it was that spot that always gave gojo chills. he was trying too hard to keep up a tough front. he’s suppressing his moans before he watches you sink him down inch by inch. 

“mouth of yours ‘s just askin’ to be ruined,” he moans, and your eyes dart back up toward the popstar. his washboard abs tightened as he stood still, watching you lower your throat on him. you were a bit sloppy not to mention, strands of spit were already running down the side of your chin. “such a slutty assistant. unprofessional and—”

gojo shuts up the moment he feels your tongue stir leisurely against his tip, he’s halfway in before you gag. he reaches the roof of your mouth already, and you’re keeping him warm, all thanks to your throat.

“…damn girl,” he huffs, and as you’re breathing through your nose, he grabs a fistful of your hair.

with a tight pull, your eyes meet his abs again, and he was so fit. figures, he is an industrially well-trained dancer after all. gojo’s workout routine was no mystery. you throbbed a bit the more you stared at his body. 

as your eyes rove, you spotted a few lipstick stains smeared all against gojo’s skin, as well as a few sharpie marks. you figured it was from one of his obsessed die-hard fans.

it was just the way his perfectly sculptured chiseled v-line presented itself. the few specks of white hairs trailing down his area further and further to where it aligns toward his happy trail…

yet, the more you stared back at the dozens of now nearly faded marks of lipstick stains scattered all over his body—you don’t know why but you felt this peculiar feeling of…jealousy. 

was it jealousy?

geto continues to eat you out as you’re trapped in a dark bubble of your thoughts, and you whimper once you feel the soft padded tip of his nose slide all against your pussy. 

he was quite literally nose-deep, making you extra sensitive by adding a finger to rub against your soaked folds. 

his touch was fiery warm.

as you started to moderately make your lips firm. you slid your tongue out before gently rubbing it against the very underside part of his cock. gojo groans once more, face growing flustered as a hand remains at the top of your head. “such a filthy mouth,” he pants, hovering over you beside the bed.  

geto’s still eating you from behind, and he starts sucking again. passionately sucking on your throbbing neglected clit. he makes it his passion to give it all sorts of uninvited attention to feel you pulse and convulse into and against his mouth. 

gojo watches you start to vigorously shake and twitch from his best friend’s tongue, and he raises your chin up to look right at him.

mouth full and all, your tongue reaches the inner vein part of gojo’s lanky cock, he whines. 

“s-shit,” he sibilates through gritted teeth, and that’s when he started to pivot his hips a bit. gojo thrusts into your mouth — and his moans were so pretty to listen to, he was a soprano after all.

the way his voice would effortlessly pitch all because of your tongue…he grabs your head, gently, yet with just enough pressure he makes you go back and forth, he’s stuffing your throat full of his girth, full of his inches.

you’re a mess, strings of saliva pouring down your chin and he looks down at you before nervously chuckling. “look at you. what, are you trying to say something?”

and he’s just at his limit, near the edge yet is such a brat. way too much for his own good. “don’t try to talk with y-your mouth full, princess.”

abruptly, you feel that familiar rush disrupt your thinking and you suddenly tense.

geto’s tongue slithers all against that spot, deep between your folds, and giving it a good nibble before your legs nearly give out right then and there. such whirlpools, a plethora of them came crashing down all at once before you moaned, the sensation was almost too much to bare. 

“give it to me, c’mon. i wanna hear you.” geto whispers, breath wafting against your clit. glossed pink lips of his was just drenched with your slit for it’s entirety.

he merrily blows against your pussy and that was just about the last straw for you—you end up cumming, and it had your eyebrows furrowing with such pleasure. 

“pft. took me longer to make her cum when i…” gojo gruffs, the same pout still pursed against his lips as he watched you riding your orgasm off against the bassist’s tongue. 

covetously, he watches as your eyelids start to droop and you’re growing quite dumb.

geto’s tongue….the length of it, the piercing, it tickled against your wet entrance as well as having you spasming and craving for more. 

gojo takes his dick out of your mouth hastily with a cute scowl on his lips whilst geto departs from behind you. 

he has a sly grin, bringing a thumb up to the corner of his mouth before swiping your slick clean. 

“jealous, ‘toru?”

“…no,” he grouches, and he definitely was. the popstar lifts you up suddenly, and your arms wrap around his neck, still panting from your recent jaw-dropping orgasmic release. “i can still do better than you, sugupoo.”

“i told you to stop calling me that.” geto chastised, standing up also. walking towards you, he ran a hand down your back and you moaned from his touch. 

you bury your face into gojo’s neck, your own warm breath going back against your face. the pop star’s half-cut-sparkled open glove traces down your back before he slyly smiles. beads of sweat races down his forehead before the singer hums. “suguru. do ya think we can fuck her like this?”

“standing up?” the bassist murmurs, and they’re both grazing their hands all over your body. while gojo has you lifted up, your legs tightly wrap and lock around his waist like a vice before geto kisses the back of your neck, pitching his voice lower as he speaks to you. “what do you think? can you handle the two of us, pretty girl?” 

you whine against gojo’s neck, trembling from geto’s touch behind you. how gentle he was, leaning in to suck against the tenderness part of your collarbone. “yeah,” you nod, and gojo glanced down at you with a smug grin forming on his lips. “j-just hurry up. satoru should have been performing like an hour ago.”

“damn, that’s true. i kinda forgot about that,” he timidly chortles, and he raises you up in his buff arms just a bit. “oh well. heh, i mean you…you can explain it to kento for me, yeah? i know he’s my manager but fuck, he scares me. if he’s nosy just tell him i’m uh…i got athlete's foot.”

there was a long rightfully so pause and geto’s hands remained gripped against your waist. “idiot…” he mumbles. 

the moment gojo aligns himself, you intake a sharp breath — mentally preparing yourself because you were about to take not only him, but his best friend also….while standing. 

“hold on to ‘toru. i’m gonna have to stretch you just a little…” geto purrs against your ear.

you made candid eye contact with gojo and he flashes a sheepish grin before planting a kiss on the tip of your nose. 

“i stretched her already.” gojo shrugs. 

“you did a lousy fuckin’ job then.” geto snarls, and you moan, feeling the thickness of geto go right into you with simplicity.

needless to say, it was sloppy. 

your cunt squelched in utter enthusiasm as he eases his way inside of you. gojo rolls his eyes at geto’s remark, and you’re quite literally being double stuffed. they both were slow and precise with their movements and you’re just in awe, dumbfounded, stupid…

you’ve never felt so full.

both of them deep inside of you, churning up your insides at the same time. you don’t think you’ve ever been fucked like this.

not only were you being shared but doing everything while standing up—your arms pathetically wrapped around gojo’s neck, and it’s the perfect position to stare right into the pop star's eyes. 

he returns the gaze, and he grows flustered, lip quivering, ears twitching, eyebrows contorting. he was trying just as much as you to not be so loud, so vocal. yet a moan slips out, and gojo’s moans never fail to be so slutty. 

“think i can see why he’s so obsessed with you,” geto grunts, maintaining a firm grip against your hips. he’s taking you from behind with gojo occupied towards the front, each pretty glacé coated whimper that ran off past your lips grew shakier and shakier from the deep thrusts you were being given.

as you idly bounced against their dicks, you were again, stupid—brainless.

your mouth ends up partially opening as you’re moaning. your pussy gripped against each of them tightly. squeezing and clamping down against each of them to where you’re just so dizzy. 

geto’s thick and girth, meanwhile gojo’s long and lengthy…

your ears fet like they were about to pop from the sheer sudden humidity in the room the more you bobbed and jostled against them. biting your lip to conceal an incoming moan, your eyes briefly roll backward before you suddenly feel the plump mushroom-tip of gojo’s dick fully expand and reach there. 

“f-fuck, oh my g-godd,” you’d whine, rough sounds of your skin against theirs ricocheting amongst each other. such beefy bulky toned arms had you propped up in such an obscene way, you craved more. “…so deep.”

gojo leans in for a wet kiss and you kiss back, a plethora of whimpers and whines glissade right into his mouth - he swiftly swipes a tongue against yours, sloppy per usual before even he starts to moan. in such a way, you never failed to leave gojo all hot and bothered.

“you two are such sluts for each other, it’s cute..” 

as the bassist teases and pokes fun, you shudder, feeling geto press up against your ass… 

the stretch, the girth he had that made him thicker… it was mouthwateringly appetizing.

you found yourself practically drooling just from his dick, the way the curve of it hit that same repeated spots to make you grow dumber and dumber. you were starting to get so loopy from his best friend that you completely forgot gojo was in the picture for a quick second. 

geto being abutting against you, his body heat was entirely chambré—the fabric of his leather jacket, the cold frigid zippers skin against your skin and you lean back against his chest. despite all of this, gojo’s still managing to have you being fucked upright.  

your entrance was slick…damp, coated each of their cocks with your dampened arousal before your breathing starts to catch up with you. 

“s-shit, ‘m not gonna last.” gojo starts, and his body language changes a bit—you study his facial expressions, the way his lips contort into a perturbed pout. skin against skin, you radiated from their heat thoroughly before geto shakes his head with a sly scoff. 

“of course you’re not.” he snickers. 

“s-shut up, sugupoo,” he whines, hastily his head goes back. the popstar’s hair goes all over his face, long white strands occluding his view of vision and it's sexy. the way he’d become whiney out of nowhere, pressing his lips together in utter desperation. you had him a mess, whining again and again, regardless of trying to keep up a front. “she’s gonna milk me ‘n it’s all your fault..”

you throbbed from his words, and the popstar could barely keep his eyes open. he’s so sensitive, keeping you up with his arms while geto has you from the other end, geto sighs dramatically. “here he goes.”

“you both talk too much.” you mewl, clinging onto gojo’s neck. 

“no we don’t.” they both say in unison before giving each other a glare. 

geto scoffs whilst gojo pokes his lip out, focusing his attention back towards you. yet the minute gojo cums, his dick ends up slipping out of you and that’s when he becomes a stuttering mess. 

“s-shit,” he huffs, wrapping a hand around his base before repositioning it again. ropes of his cum start to seep out your cunt, geto watches and he’s speechless—you mewl, feeling geto run a thumb down your slit only to then smear gojo’s cum against your pussy. “so much to give you, even still.”

gojo starts whimpering. stretching such inches inside of you while geto pauses his movements. you felt warm, not to mention exceedingly full. 

you were stuffed, to the utmost limit…

the two took turns with you. you were treated like a rag doll if one was to be honest. it was as if stamina didn’t exist for them. positions after positions, there’d be a point where geto’s sucking against your nipples while gojo’s slamming his hips into you with the sweetest whimpers dragging out from his pretty glossed lips.

albeit, you don’t expect geto to get whiney…

but he does.

you’d be riding him, he’s laid back against the bed with his legs openly spread and clenched. a sharp jawline points forward as he faces you forward. “fuckk, your hips are so..” he’d groan, his head goes back in desireable pleasure and you lean in to bombard the inner part of his neck with sweet kisses.

gojo’s behind you, and he finds himself getting jealous and a tad bit clingy. you moan, feeling him lick a long stripe up your neck, wanting you to pay more attention to him and not his dumb best friend.

geto’s so attractive from this perspective..

you decide to be a tease, planting a kiss near the corner of his mouth—your lips meeting his revealing dimples. “gripping me s-so good,” he groans, bringing a sharp smack to your ass for ‘encouragement.’

he craved the way you grinded against him, not too fast, not too quick…just right. your hips slid from front to back, swiveling all around him to where a whine rips from his throat. “damnnn, just like that. f-fuck me, fuck megirl...”

his voice deopped a single octave, and he even brought a hand up to his face to shield his pure embarrassment.

gojo snickers before he speaks, peppering kisses against your collarbone before peering at his best friend. “awww, look at sugupoo. all that talk ‘n he’s just as whiny as i was.”

“shut up.. fuckin’ shut…up,” he groans, his nostrils flare and you lean in to kiss geto, he kisses back, and this time it’s sloppy and less passionate. it’s rougher. the instant second his lips meet yours, a low moan from geto slips out.

he pants heavily against you, breaking away for a second to breath — his hands were pinching your waist, brushing against your tender skin before he exhales out a sigh.

geto’s hair, tied into a near ponytail had a few strands poking out, scattered all against his face. he groans, feeling your clit rub against him slowly and gradually.

perfectly aligned and lined up right, he shudders once he feels your hand roam against his body, sliding a finger down a scar near the right side of his chest. 

gojo, still being sat behind you as he impatiently watched, reaches between your legs and starts to play with your pussy. you whined, feeling him start to maneuver tiny circles against your already sensitive folds before geto pulls away to breath yet again. 

a pretty sheeny web of spit coats against your chin and his as you depart from one another. your lips, and his jaw tightens. “f-fuckkk, fuck me. fuck me like that, don’t s-stop.”

he found the way you mounted him in such a good angle, it makes him ten times harder. geto’s thick cock slams in and out of you to where he’s almost tasting how swollen he was. you ploddingly thrust your hips forward before geto pulls you into his chest suddenly. 

“suguruuu.” you’d whinge, feeling him squeeze the fat of your ass.  

“fuckk,” he raps, you could be milking me all the time instead of this—this wannabe justin bieber.”

“hey…” gojo narrows his eyes, and he catches you giggling at geto’s remark. geto peeks an eye to stare at gojo before a smile goes against his lips, soley before turning his attention back towards you.

once geto’s body relaxes, he feels the pressure rising up within him to the point of his incoming release. the fiery sensations of electricity went all through. such fiery sensations piercing, he’s bouncing his thigh in an attempt to deepen his strokes inside you to make you whine yourself. 

“damn, ‘s good. s-so fuckin’ good,” he swallows, grunting once you lean in to kiss the front part of his adam’s apple. “gonna flood your pussy, you want that? want me to make a fuckin’ mess of myself?”

“y-yeah.” you breathe, nodding in contentment. “suguru please.”

geto’s vision becomes a little blurry, he’s hazy and it feels so good…your cunt’s got him on a leash.

he fell in love with the way your hips rolled against him again and again, each spank he gives your ass makes him throb. the girth he had lunging inside of you, outstretching to where it prods against your g-spot. “f-fuck.” you’d sob, slumping your head against the bassist. 

once he eventually came, it was way more than gojo. more as in you’re stuffed fuller than you thought you could ever be. you pause, huffing and puffing as your ear laid flat against his bare chest. geto aches, heavily panting himself and sweat droplets raced down his v-line. 

“i think i won,” gojo frowns, breaking the two of you up—you were practically limp, geto’s cum dripping out of you. you moaned, trying to recollect your breath but failing. 

geto leans back, giving gojo a side eye before murmuring. “just shut up..”

“aw. poor sugu’s all d—”

gojo’s voice gets rudely interrupted by the annoying screech of your ringtone. the two of them stare at the blue light, and gojo picks it up with a curious expression. 

“ooh, phone call,” and he picks it up, bringing it up to his face and raises a brow. “huh. why’s uh..” and he turns it the opposite way, “why’s fushiguro toji calling you? and heh what’s with the dumb heart by his name. isn’t he my old producer?”

geto grumbles, still silently heaving with a hand rubbing against his abdomen. “yeah, that scum who tried to take parts of our salary from that one gig we did,” and then geto darts his eyes towards you with an unreadable expression “why is he calling you?”

your stomach quite literally drops. you sat on the plump bed laid flat on your tummy. momentarily stunned for a moment. alas, you had to say something… you sat up, the phone continuing to sing in the distance before uttering. 

“toji…he’s um…he’s kind of my boyfriend.”

yeah, you were fucked. 

[lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa]

❝ 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 ❞

❝ PROF. GETO'S CLASS IS SO HARD, BUT HE'S SO HOT!! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part one of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: you were a 4.0, straight A student, until professor geto's class, the same far too hot ethics professor fawned over by faculty and students alike. you didn't understand what was so special about him...until you start having dreams about him.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (mostly fantasy), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student in my mind, but age is vague, masturbation (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), getting off to his voice in recorded lectures, arousal from reading his writing, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, art by @/jatinsohanvi, google scholar graphic by platonic loml @laneysmusings

✧ wc: 10,149 (i have a problem) | part two

“You’re late,” 

Your first impression of Professor Suguru Geto’s class was that you could never be late again, unless you would like to be chided in front of all your peers for your tardiness. 

Your first impression of Professor Suguru Geto himself was that he was truly the most breathtaking man you’d ever laid your eyes on. His inky black locks tied into a neat bun, his deep royal purple vest buttoned over a crisp white button up with pressed gray slacks, his pretty lips pressed in a small frown, as his dark gaze pierced through you. And you don’t know what stirs in your chest — a fleeting moment that is tucked away under a bite of your bottom lip and burning cheeks. 

And now you knew why when you had walked into class, the amount of unfamiliar faces in this course had far outnumbered the ones in your usual course load — the same reason why this man undoubtedly had three chili peppers next to his professor rating on some website out there. 

And now you were faced with him staring you down as you stumbled down the stairs of the all too full lecture hall. 

As you muttered apologies, and took your seat far too close to the front of the class, smack dab in the very front of the very same professor whose eyes still were concentrated on you, before sliding back to the class at large. 

“Now, where were we?” he says, continuing the lecture. 

Ethics was not your major — you were a philosophy grad student, and although the two went hand in hand — no, they were not the same thing. Ethics are the moral principles — like rules to follow to live a moral life — people can follow, while philosophy is the study of knowledge, reality, and existence. And this class encompassed both — an ethics and moral philosophy class. Your eyes slid around the room — and compared to all the random majors stuffed into this classroom, you had no doubt you’d do well. Your eyes met Professor Geto’s — maybe one slight doubt. 

And when you get your first essay back, you eagerly flip to the last page of the paper, wondering what accolades and compliments you’d receive this time. Your eyes find the grade, and your stomach drops, a gaping maw that consumes you from the inside out. 

You got a B. 

A B+ — an 88 on your paper in this course, and you stared at the grade on the very last page of the paper you had collected from his desk — Professor Geto had insisted everyone submit their papers both physically and electronically — his scrawl in red pen littered each page of what you thought was a thoughtful and even clever paper on the existence free will and the ethical and moral dilemmas that surround it. And he had given it an 88. 

You had a 4.0 point average — you had gotten the highest scores in some of the most difficult courses required by your major, and now you were going to be derailed by a class you took on a whim? That’s not happening. No, you were going to get him to change your grade. You were seeing as red as the ink that tore your paper to shreds. 

“Come in,” your knuckles had rapped against Professor Geto’s door, your heart in your throat, as you heard his reply, entering his office. His office was as pretentious as he was. A much larger office than you had seen before (poor Professor Ijichi had a shoebox of an office), while Professor Geto’s was three times the size, outfitted with large, beautiful windows, distinct bookshelves, and even a lovely deep mahogany colored couch with decorative cushions. And you knew why that was the case — Professor Geto was an expert in his field, revered, even at his relatively young age. And the university had coveted him, and managed to lure him to work behind these ivy covered walls. While other professors who have been here longer are stuck with offices that don’t begin to compare. 

Academia was truly hell. 

And yet, Professor Geto seemed to rule over it with an iron fist. Even now, you found your professor looking as annoyingly perfect as ever — his elbow resting against his desk, pen in his other hand, as he flipped through more papers on his desk, his hair in a messy bun, a few black strands falling across his furrowed brow, his pretty lips pursed in concentration, and his dark gaze flicks up from his work to you, and his lips curl, your name leaving his lips, “good to see you, please sit,” 

You had planned to attend these office hours in victory, to apologize for your misstep in the first class, and let your professor praise your paper to no end — but instead you were going to see why your paper was graded so harshly. 

Your speech was ready, you were going to lay it out, you had the perfect explanation and the excellent reasoning “Professor Geto—” 

“I know why you’re here,” he cuts you off, lips forming in an utterly condescending smile, “you want to discuss your paper, correct?” 

“I am, I wanted to—” 

He sits forward in his chair, setting down his pen, “I’m going to save us some time by explaining my comments on your paper, do you have it?” and you close your mouth, pulling the paper out of your folder and handing it to him, “Your paper was one of the best in the class — it was thought provoking, grounded in research, persuasive, even made me consider some points I hadn’t before—” 

You blink, his praise catching you off guard, your thoughts twisting in on themselves, “Then why did you give me B?” 

“You didn’t allow me to finish,” he sighs, as he flips through your paper, looking up to meet your gaze,  “your paper was excellent when it came to philosophical concepts, but your ethical conclusions on the other hand, could use some work,” 

You gaped at him, “What did I possibly—” 

“To put it simply, you were trying to use your knowledge of philosophy to cover up your lack of knowledge in the field of ethics,” 

“I wasn’t—” 

“And that’s okay, because that means I have something to teach you don’t I? That’s why you’re in this course, to learn,” he gives a tight lipped smile, tilting his head. Oh you’d like to learn a lot more from him — like the ethical dilemma of wanting to murder your professor, “and I’m here to teach — and this paper is a teaching moment — and from your expression, I assume you didn’t read the comments I left in detail,” 

And your cheeks burn, as your eyes fall away from him, “Not fully in detail,” you still swallow your shame, and meet his gaze, “I don’t mean to be a bother, Professor, but how can my paper still receive a B — I’ve never received that low of a score on any single paper—” 

“There’s a first time for everything,” and you have to bite back your retort, “yeah first time having an annoying prick for a professor,” and he rises from his desk to hand you back your paper, “the bottom line is, I know you’re capable of better, this class isn’t going to be easy — I’m not going to hand you accolades for no reason. You have to earn them — if you aren’t up for the challenge, you can drop the class.” 

The option was there — you could simply drop the course, rid yourself of Professor Geto and his ridiculous criticism forever. You could take a class with one of the many professors who delighted in your papers (even the ones you’d written at 3 AM and submitted not proofread), and go on with your life and preserve your 4.0 GPA with ease. 

But then you looked at him again. He was unfairly hot, even when he was fucking putting you down, he stood in front of you, offering your paper, his fingers long and thick brushing yours by mistake as you took back your paper, a watch on his wrist gleamed in the low light of his office. You glanced around his office, saw the awards on his walls, pictures of him giving lectures or receiving honors, and the books that lined his shelves weren’t dissimilar to your own academic shelf at home. And your eyes fell back to his, as he stared at you curiously, lips pursed, as your paper slightly crumples in your fist. 

“Next paper is due in two weeks?” and he pauses, before his lips curl in that same grin. 

“Yes it is,” and a smile graces your lips, lightning quick.

Like hell you were going to let him win. You were going to get him to praise your papers (and maybe that wouldn’t be the only thing he praised) — if it was the last thing you do. You’d get an A in his class, hell, you’d get him to beg you to be his teaching assistant (he’d look very nice on his knees for you, wouldn’t he?). 

You rise from your seat, and grab your bag, “I’ll see you at your next office hours then, to discuss my paper topic,” and he watches you leave, his eyes piercing into your back as you do. 

“See you soon.” 

Oh, he would. 

“Right on time,” Professor Geto barely looks up now when you knock on his door, his door now always ajar for office hours. 

Now you had made a habit of showing up for his office hours, you’d bring your paper topic all picked out, along with your handpicked sources you had chosen for your paper, all typed up in a neat bibliography. And he’d kindly rip it apart with that same damn smile on his lips. It had been a few weeks, a few papers later — and you finally had worked your grade up to an A-, not quite an A+, but you’d get there. You had to. 

Because it wasn’t just about your GPA now — you were going to get Professor Geto to praise you — through any means necessary. The man was stubborn, even when you’d come back with an improved draft, he’d only hand it back to you with a smile barely tugging at the corner of his lips, with no compliment to be had — only small check marks scribbled in the margins in your papers, with the occasional “good” written next to it. 

“Well, we all know what happens when I’m late,” he laughs, a noise that makes the ice dagger clutched behind your back ever so slightly melt, “I made you laugh, extra credit?” 

And he rolls his eyes, and you notice that his dark eyes are hidden behind glasses today — and god, why does it only make him even more gorgeous? He’s already brilliant, it’s unfair for him to look as if he was sculpted by the gods as well, “It takes a lot more than a chuckle to earn extra credit,” and you can’t help but bite your lip. 

No, no, he’s the worst. It didn’t matter he was the epitome of every academic’s wet dream, you were above that. You had a goal. 

“So, can we discuss my next paper?” you hand him your bibliography, and he takes it, delicate fingers flipping through, your mind notes the absence of a ring on either hand, before brushing the thought aside. 

“You’re writing on the morality of good or bad actions,” he hums, as he looks over the sources you had chosen, “Scanlon, good — have you read—” 

“‘What We Owe to Each Other?’ Only about a million times — well more like six,” and he nods appreciatively, “of course you’ve read it,” 

“I didn’t just read it, I wrote a paper on it, similar to yours, actually,” and your eyes flick up to meet his, he’s leaning forward in his chair, red pen in hand, as he scribbles notes in the margins, as well as on the back of your bibliography, “of course I don’t have your penchant for rambling,” 

You pout, “I don’t ramble — I like to make my point—” 

“Many times, and the same one,” and your mouth opens, only to find a wry smirk on his lips, “I’m teasing, another one of my very tedious qualities, and how you stand it during class astonishes me,” 

You cross your arms, unable to meet his eyes, as you choose to stare at your bibliography instead, “You’re not completely tedious, more like irritating,” and he huffs a chuckle. 

You had to admit, begrudgingly, Professor Geto was a…good teacher. And you had your fair share of awful teachers — many of them were brilliant, accomplished people in their fields, but didn’t know how to translate and convey that in their lectures to students who simply knew less than them. But Geto…he knew how to break down complex concepts and theories of moral philosophy and ethics to a science, he knows how to make students understand these complicated topics that you had seen other professors fail to, and he does it while being an intellectual dreamboat to most of his students — the ones that swarm his desk after class, still there even as you slowly make your way out of the lecture hall. 

“A rare compliment from you,” he raises an eyebrow, “I’m touched,” 

“You’re one to talk,” you furrow your brow, and a smile pulls at his lips. 

“Didn’t know you wanted my approval,” he tilts his head, leaning forward to lean on his elbow on the desk, “well, you have improved remarkably in the class so far, and if you keep going like this, I may have no choice but to praise you,” 

“You will,”

“Someone is very sure of themselves,” a pause and then he adds with a quirk of his lips, “as you should be,” and he’s sliding your bibliography across the table again, and passes it back, “read the sources I recommended, and see about adding them to your paper — you may have some overlap in the other papers you chose so use your discretion on which ones you use,” 

“So don’t repeat myself?” You raise an eyebrow, and he leans back in his chair, crossing his legs. 

“You learn fast.” 

And you do — returning to your apartment to work on your paper, as you flip through his notes — as much as you hate to admit it, his notes and criticism did help — annoyingly so. He was far more detailed and perceptive than any other professor you had. Most had let you skate by without a second thought, and you wrote papers like you deleted your internet history after a scandalous romp through elicit websites — tools, clear history — and then onto the next paper or exam. But Professor Geto forced you to face your shortcomings, face the things that you didn’t like to give a second glance to, lest your rejection sensitive self feel the agony of having to deal with criticism. 

Each time you did it, you got a little better, and he had a little less to say — time and time again. 

You leaned back on your bed, scrolling through the papers he recommended, but so what? So what if he was a good teacher? Doesn’t mean he has to be as infuriating as he is — he knew exactly what to do to get under your skin, and he didn’t prod at it, he scratched it. 

And you found yourself typing his name (“suguru geto”) and T.M. Scanlon’s name into the search bar of your university’s library collection, and his paper pops up right on top. 

You stare at the paper for a good minute, before you click on it — and you start reading. And reading. And reading — and fuck— 

It was good. It was more than that — it gave you so much insight on this topic, it made you rediscover T.M. Scanlon’s work in a new light — and you bite your lip. And it wasn’t just the research — the way it organized, the way it was presented, the way it was written — it was eloquent, but it wasn’t unreadable or incomprehensible. It was…really good. 

You imagined him, pouring over Scanlon’s work as he wrote notes in the margins of his copy, pages dogeared and passages highlighted, as he sat in his office typing away at this paper. His sleeves rolled up, his hair let out of his usual bun, his glasses perched on his nose as he read, only his desk lamp and computer illuminating his office. The keys of his computer clacking under his touch, lengthy fingers pitter pattering as he wrote his thoughts and analysis of Scanlon’s work — his brow furrowed in thought. 

And you felt yourself flush, swallowing the lump in your throat, as you kicked off your blanket — it was so warm all of a sudden, pressing your thighs together. You shook the thoughts from your mind — what the hell were you doing? You glanced at the time, 2:39 AM it read back at you mockingly. You sigh, shutting your laptop down, and putting it aside — you need to do your skincare and brush your teeth. You glance back at your laptop—the familiar of your flush clung to your skin like a forbidden kiss— 

And you clearly needed sleep. 

“Can you read this passage to me?” Professor Geto’s voice said, as he stood in front of you in the lecture hall — as you stood behind the podium that faced the entire class — hands in his pockets, in an olive henley, his hair tied in the usual neat bun, his black bangs falling in his eyes as always, glasses on, instead of the usual contacts. The class sat all around you — his exercise in getting the class to participate and get comfortable speaking in front of others, just as philosophers had done in the past (his very own “literary salon” he called it). 

You swallow, keeping your eyes fixed on the book in front of you, “‘When I ask myself what reason the fact that an action would be wrong provides me with not to do it, my answer is that such an action would be one that I could not justify to others on ground I could expect them to accept—’” 

“What do you think Scanlon meant by this?” he asks you, but his gaze was different this time, it held the amusement it always did when it came to you, but it was warm — no — it was burning. His lips were pursed, as he crossed his arms, the henley’s fabric seemingly straining under the action. 

“He meant that an action that is wrong in his eyes when he couldn’t expect others to accept the ground on which he could justify it,” and his lips curve into that damned smile, as he takes a few steps closer, rounding the podium, as he brushes past you, the brief touch of temptation incarnate — the dangling apple of Tantalus personified before you. 

“And can you give me some examples of what kinds of actions would be wrong?” and he’s standing behind you now, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him — but you can feel his gaze on you. 

“Senseless murder,” and he hums in approval, his breath felt like it was warming your skin, “wanton violence, reckless assault—” 

“What other everyday wrongdoings could fall under this category?” and suddenly the class before you is gone, and it’s just the two of you in an empty lecture hall, “theft, lying, student-teacher relationships?” 

And your breath catches in your throat, his cologne strangling any sense left in your mind, as his body heat nearly radiates off him, “Professor Geto—” 

“Suguru,” he corrects you, and he’s reaching for you, but he pauses, “can I—” and you only can nod, and his fingers brush your hair aside, ever so gently, “would this be considered a moral wrongness, sweetheart?” his lips press a chaste kiss to your shoulder, and you shiver at the softness of his touch. 

“Well, I am a student in your class, and even though I’m of age, it presents a power dynamic and a favoritism that might be—” and your sentence cuts off as his arms wind their way around your waist, pressing himself to your back, “I—” 

“Go on,” he’s murmuring his words against the nape of your neck now, as he pulls his glasses off to place them on the podium, “might be what?” 

“Might be viewed as morally wrong—” and he’s chuckling, the vibration sending a delicious shiver down your spine, as he presses more butterfly kisses to your neck. 

“How can something be wrong when it feels so right?” he asks, and his hand is sliding down your side, “feels so good, does it even matter what society views as right or wrong? Do their rules pertain to what we’re doing here?” and his fingers toy with the hem of your pants, teasing and pulling, as he pauses, waiting for your answer, “what do you think—” 

“Please,” you swallow, as you turn to look at him, seeing his lips in that same smile that haunted you, “touch me,” 

And his smile only grows wider, “Good girl.” 

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ. 

Your eyes flutter open, your breath caught in your throat, as you stare at your ceiling, your hand reaching for your phone to silence the alarm. And you squeeze your thighs together, a distinct ache between your legs, your skin all too warm. 

What the fuck was that? 

You skip office hours the next week. You couldn’t bear it — you could barely tolerate going to class now, as the dream invades your nights, with filthy variations that leave you perturbed and horny (mostly horny). The common theme only being that each time you get close to anything remotely that’s anything (a kiss, a touch that’s more than a caress, anything at all), you wake up. 

It’s as if your dreams are edging you — you groan into your pillow — and it was working. 

You’re so wound up, you’ve even resorted to using your vibrator before bed, wondering if that would make a difference — it did, but only with you having a dream of Professor Geto using a vibrator on you during class — the vibrations growing even faster when you were speaking as he watched you— 

You needed to stop thinking about this. But how can you? 

God, it’s even worse when you’re in class. You sit in your usual seat, front and center — and why does it feel like his eyes are on you far too often? Even as he lectures Professor Geto attempts to catch your eye during his lecture, trying to make a point, you all but glue your gaze down to the textbook and your laptop, typing away his words, trying to drown out the whispered words and groans from your dream that ring in your ears. You can’t stop seeing him — unless you want to skip class, which you really couldn’t when attendance and participation counted for a good chunk of your grade. 

Class ended and you were packing up your things. You had to weather the storm — avoid being alone with him until the dreams were just a distant memory— 

And then you heard him say your name— 

Your eyes flick up to meet Professor Geto — who had his usual swarm of students waiting by his desk, but he parted the crowd, he approached your own seat, hands in your pockets, “Do you have a class after this?” 

“No, I don’t—” the words slip out before your sleep deprived mind can put the pieces together. 

“Then can you please stay after class? I’d like to talk to you,” he says, and before you can say anything, he turns to speak to the students waiting for him. 

And now you wait — your anxious energy singing at the frayed ends of your nerves, as you tried to hold yourself together — wondering what he could possibly want to speak to you about. His students dissipated one by one, until it was just you and him left in the lecture hall. 

Just. Like. Your. Fucking. Dream. 

You round the row you sat in, before walking down to speak to him, “Is there something wrong? The next paper isn’t due until the end of next week—” 

“It isn’t about the paper,” and your heart squeezes, as you try to keep your breathing even, as he steps closer — and why, why did he have to opt to only wear a button up today —  and a deep royal purple one no less,  “I wanted to check in with you,” and he begins to undo the cuffs of his shirt, rolling them up — exposing his forearms and the pretty veins that ran along them — the same arms that he had used in one of your dreams to bend you over that desk, the whispers of heated kisses along your neck—

You needed to get out of here. 

You blink, “I’m fine,” and he tilts his head. 

“I only ask because you’ve looked tired the last two classes, and you didn’t show up for office hours this week,” he crosses his arms, unhelpfully, as he purses his lips, the lines of his brow furrowed. 

“I’m fine, Professor, I appreciate your concern — I just haven’t been sleeping well,” you admit — it was the truth, “and that’s why I didn’t come to office hours. I was trying to catch up on sleep,” 

He nods, sighing, fingers raking through his hair — those same fingers that would feel so pretty around your neck— “I know I’m hard on you,” oh he would be, “but it’s because I know you’re capable of more — most of these students are taking the class for an elective, but I know it’s more than that for you,” yes, it’s so you can finally earn his praise, “but I’m also here for your benefit, so if you need an extension or anything else, please let me know,” 

God, all you wanted was for him to maybe wrap you in his arms and kiss you, or bend you over, pull your clothes off and fuck you, or just to leave you alone all together. 

You weren’t sure which one you wanted the most at this moment. 

“I will, Professor Geto, I appreciate it,” you murmur, biting your lip, as you try to focus on the task at hand — getting out of here, “I don’t think I need an extension, I’ve made good progress so far. I just need to finish it, so I can revise,”

“Well, let me know if anything changes,” his lips curl, “ok?” And you nod, and if you weren’t so hyperaware, you swore you would have imagined it — but you didn’t, “good girl,” 

And you pause a moment — his lips did move, you pinch yourself discreetly — and you know it isn’t a fucking dream. You only smile in return, giving a curt nod and goodbye, before beelining out of the classroom. 

But you didn’t stick around long enough to see the slight flush on Professor Geto’s cheeks — nor did you know that you two were thinking the same thing about yourselves— 

What the fuck were you doing? 

But to your relief, the dreams do subside, and you’re finally able to rest — but the thing that doesn’t subside is your awareness of your professor. 

You sit in class, watching him teach — and you knew he was attractive, hell, it was one of the things that made you all the more embarrassed to have him ream you out — having your super hot professor rail at you for your mistakes wasn’t on your list of shining achievements (lest it was him actually railing you—). 

You needed to stop doing that. 

But it felt as if you weren’t the only one who was hyper aware. You felt as if his eyes skimmed over you during class this week, his replies to your weekly discussion board were less biting than usual, and his office hours were surprisingly canceled this week. First time all semester, but you weren’t so full of yourself that you thought it had anything to do with you — right? 

Either way, you had submitted your paper and now you were done with this week—and as class finishes, you slowly pack up, looking forward to the week being over with and for a personal rendezvous with your bed. But as the usual gaggle of students make their way to chat with Professor Geto, your eyes flicker up to meet his, as he stares back a moment. 

And you can’t make yourself look away, and for a moment, neither can he. 

But then a student calls for his attention, so his eyes flicker away, a smile on his lips as he spoke — and you turn to leave, grabbing your bag, as you look back— 

But why did his smile look so strained? 

There must be something wrong with him. 

Professor Suguru Geto drummed his fingers against his desk, but he felt more like shoving his things off his desk — if only to distract him for a moment. He pulls his glasses off, and runs a hand down his face—god, he hadn’t been sleeping well. No, his nights were plagued, plagued by you — you had slipped into his dreams ever since that day he stopped you. 

Why had he stopped you? 

It wasn’t the first time he had personally stopped a student who seemed to be struggling, he could count the times he had on both his hands. 

But this, this felt different. 

You were different. 

But why were you different to him? He rubs his temples, from the moment you had stepped into his office he thought he had read you — an overachieving student used to getting their way, As handed out to them, and an inability to take criticism. 

He knew, because he used to be one of them. But he knew you needed to be challenged to grow — but it was a matter if you would accept it. And from the moment you asked him when the next paper was due, he couldn’t help but smile. 

And his time spent in office hours with you grew more enjoyable each time you came. And when you hadn’t last week, he couldn’t sit still, checking the time, checking his email, and even checking if his office hours had been accidentally listed wrong in his weekly email to the class (they weren’t). And the hour and half passed with many students hungry for his time and his charm  — but not the  one he was looking for. 

Then those words had slipped from his tongue when he had stopped you, left his mouth like he was possessed, and now he had found himself here. Found himself thinking about how your lips parted when he said it, thinking about how you were feeling, thinking about you, you, you— 

There’s a knock at the door, “Professor Geto?” 

And it was you. 

“I apologize, I know you canceled office hours, but I just had a few questions I didn’t get to ask you in class,” your fingers toy with the ring you wore, a folder in hand, a soft smile on your lips. 

“Of course, come in,” and you did, your dress was painfully short, the fabric riding up as you sat, the folder in your lap, “is this about your paper?” 

“It is, I was reading a few papers, and after our conversation, I couldn’t help but find your paper,” and he tilts his head, “and I want to include it as a source in my paper, but I had a few points you made that I wanted clarified,” 

He raises an eyebrow, and he can’t help but tease,  “Clarified or criticized? Are you planning on turning the tables on me?” 

“Well I do have a red pen,” you click your pen, lips curved in a smile, and there’s a hint of heat that he wishes to unearth, pluck from the earth and possess himself, “but I promise I’ll be civil,”

 “I have no doubt,” he had a million when it came to you — but that wasn’t one of them. He runs his fingers through his hair, a few strands coming loose, “of course, let’s discuss it,” 

“You discuss Scanlon’s idea of a social contract, everyone within this moral society agrees on what’s right and what’s wrong — the basic principle is that if there is a rule no one can reasonably reject as a basis, but is there such a rule that can exist?” 

He tilts his head, “Scanlon’s theory relies on this premise — are you questioning me or the premise?” 

“Both, actually,” you shrug, crossing your legs, “is there a magic switch that changes every person to be rational? Because I think only rational people can agree on what rules cannot be reasonably rejected — what about people who are cruel, inconsiderate, self-absorbed? Do those traits go away when operating under Scanlon’s social contract? You propose in your paper that moral reasons are not subjective — nothing is uncolored by human opinion,” 

“No, but—” 

“How can we agree on what is truly right or wrong? How can one hundred people agree on that when everyone views these actions in different ways? Right and wrong? Black, white, or gray?” you rise from your chair to hand him his paper printed out, the paper more red than white with the amount of writing you’ve done, “like for example,” you lean forward, your hand braced against the edge of his desk, “can one hundred people agree that student-teacher relationships are wrong? Because one veto,” your hand trails ever closer to his, toeing that dangerous line either of you had even yet to approach to cross. But here you were, seemingly barreling toward it. 

And he didn’t want to pull away. 

He swallows, whispering your name, “This can’t—” and you were so close — too close, your perfume hypnotized him, your fingers brush against his and he can’t help but hold them, his thumb rubbing across your knuckles, “they can agree that it’s wrong — the power imbalance from the authority of the professor and the age difference—” 

“I disagree, so the rule isn’t legitimate, right? Even if one disagrees, the rule cannot be make valid,” and his breath catches as your fingers slide up his arm now, resting on his shoulder, as you lean over his chair now, as your other hand toys with the loose strands of his hair, “if the two of us can’t even agree, then how could a hundred, or a thousand, or a million?” 

“But—” 

“But what?” you pout, your fingers dragging down his chest, toying with the top button of his button down, “I don’t see you pulling away, do you want me to stop, Professor? Because I will,” 

And he swallows thickly, but he can’t stop you — he doesn’t want to, “But, we shouldn’t — it isn’t a reasonable objection—” he tries his hardest to stand firm, but he only crumbles when your fingers brush his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw. And it feels like flames tickling at his skin, begging him to thrust his hand into the fire. 

“Like I said, people are not reasonable,” your lips draw closer, and he can feel your breath warm his own, and god, why are you so tempting? And your lips stop short, barely an inch between your faces, “and besides, would you rather be reasonable or satisfied?” 

And there’s only one answer — you. 

He leans forward, lips nearly brushing yours— 

RING. RING. RING.

He jerks awake from his desk, papers sliding as he does, his breath caught in his throat, and his eyes wander — and finds no one else there. 

A dream. He runs his fingers through his hair again, crumpling the paper he had oh so lovingly drooled during his nap. He needed to get his shit together. 

But his current predicament wasn’t making that easy — his cock strained against the fabric of his pants — was he a grown adult or a horny teenager? 

Fuck. It wasn’t going away — no matter what he thought, his mind kept circling back to you. 

And his eyes slide to the time: 1:40 AM. 

Far past the time any soul would be here, even cleaning staff would have been long gone. It was just him—

And you. 

“So good for me, baby,” he’s panting, palming his erection, an embarrassing amount of precum drips from his cock for a barely wet dream. He ignores the gnawing guilt in the back of his mind — but he can’t help but imagine the image of you, spread out on his desk, hiking that oh so teasing sundress up, only to find your underwear drenched — just for him. 

His fingers would slide up your plush thighs, squeezing to draw a gasp from your pretty lips, “Professor—“ you’d say, unable to form a sentence, all those brilliant falling away under his touch, until it was just him occupying every crevice of your mind. 

“Where’s that mouth now? So needy f’me,” he’d murmur, “but such a good girl,” and you were, his thumb tracing his slit, smearing his pre-cum, as he imagined you spread on his desk, your puffy folds nearly showing through your far too translucent panties, “my best student’s so pliant for me now,”

And his hand moves faster, and he can imagine your fingers reaching for him too, your smaller fingers wouldn’t be able to even touch as much as he can — but god it would feel so much better. 

But he’d want you to feel even better than he did.  

He’d tug your underwear down, stuffing it in his pocket (his fee for all of additional office hours), and he would prep you right — fuck you open with his fingers, two or three, before he tasted you. Your fingers would dig into his scalp as you moaned his name again and again, before you came all over his face. 

He’d lick his lips clean of your release, before dragging his cock down your sweet cunt, watching his precum mix with your cum, as your walls flutter around nothing, craving to have him sink into you. 

“Professor, please,” you’d beg with pretty, kiss bitten lips between pants, “please,” 

“Where’s all those quips now, sweetheart?” he’d tease, as he would let his tip tease your clit, pulling a moan from your lips, “all those words fall away when you want this cock, don’t they? Been thinking about you like this, wondering what you’d look like spread out under me,” and he would lean down to kiss you, “it’s even better than I expected,”

He’s jerking himself off in earnest now, the lewd noises of his hand around his cock filling most of the silence, his low groans filling the rest. And he’d finally sink into you, inch by inch, until he’d kiss your cervix with his weeping tip. 

And, god, he wishes his fingers fisted around his cock would be as good as your cunt would feel around him. He would fuck you slow at first, “I know those boys can’t fuck you as good as I can, as well as I can,” he’d tell you, as he would pick up the pace when you’d tell him to, making you cum again and again with his cock, thumb rubbing at your clit, until he was finally close. He’d either cum all over your stomach, marking you with his release, or if you’d let him, he’d cum inside you, filling you with his seed—and then he’d watch it drip out when he would pull out. He groans your name lowly, shuddering as he comes all over his hand, hard. 

Fuck. 

That’s the hardest he’d cum in a long time. He’s a mess — panting and flushed, as he leans back, head against the back of his  chair, too spent to even clean up. And then he finally does, cleaning himself up well, and collecting his things to leave the office. 

But he only treated the symptoms, not the problem itself. His hard-on is gone, but his mind is still filled with thoughts of you. How he’d kiss you sweetly after, how he’d clean you up, care for you gently, make you rest because you never seem to do enough of that, and he’d let you relax — finally relax, as you slept the night in his arms. 

As he heads to his car, he knows that he’s utterly fucked (without even being fucked) because he has feelings for you. And he didn’t know if they were going to go away as easily as he hoped. 

But he hoped they would. He owed it to you, your education, and your future career not to act on these feelings. 

And he sighs as he sits in his car, starting it, but why did it hurt not to? 

It was that time again. 

Your next paper had come around again, and you needed to prepare a topic before you went to speak to Professor Geto. You had put it off, something you had never done with his class, but you wanted to limit the amount of time you spent with him, if only for the sake of your heart. 

Watching him in lectures was bad enough, your thighs pressing together as you watched him speak, his impeccable looks and intelligence a deadly combination for your heart (and your body). You could barely focus, your eyes too fixed on the way he wrote on the board —  his fingers too lithe and too thick, his voice all too alluring when discussing Kant and Aristotle and you can’t help but think what he’d sound moaning your name. 

God. Fuck.  

Either way, you needed to listen to the lectures again since you weren’t able to pay attention. Maybe without watching the video would be better, you settle on your bed, notebook and pen in hand, as you place your headphones on. His voice filled your ears, and you’re scrawling notes. 

But your mind begins to wander. He’s lecturing on the deontological ethics, and all you can think about is how he could make you cum with just that voice of his.  

Shit, you shifted your thighs again, feeling that familiar ache again. What would he sound like when he moaned? How would it sound to have him touch you, run those long fingers down your thighs, and whisper filthy things in your ear? 

As you listened to the lecture, his voice became white noise as your fingers slipped past the waistband of your shorts, and you shut your eyes. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, spread your legs for me,” he’d murmur in your ear, his chest pressed to your back and he’s urge your thighs wider, and his fingers would press against the wet patch on your panties, and he’d hum, “so wet f’me and I haven’t touched you yet, Princess,” his lips would kiss your pulse, “you like my voice that much?” 

“Professor,” you gasp, as his fingers would tease you through your underwear, the fabric growing more soaked by the second, “please—“ and his thumb would ghost around your clit, teasing you, as his long fingers would piston in and out — they would reach so much fucking deeper “I need to—“ 

“Already begging? I knew you learned fast, but not this fast,” and his fingers would tug the crotch of your panties aside, his fingertips tracing around your outer lips, before a finger pushes past your sweet cunt, “fuck, my favorite student’s pussy is so fucking tight. These boys are not fucking you right,” and you whimper, his finger would be so much thicker than yours, as you glide another finger inside you, the two dragging against your walls, “listen to your pretty cunt,” he’d grin against your skin, “and the wet squelch of your pussy, “so pliant for me, takes my fingers so well,” he’d murmur with a chuckle, “practically swallowing me up,” 

And you’re bucking your hips against him, wanting, needing him deeper, because your fingers don’t reach as far as his does, moans leaving your lips. 

“I’m so—” you’re moving faster and faster, his lecture still filling your ears, your pre-cum soaking your shorts and onto the bed sheets, “I can’t—” 

“Come on, Princess, use those big words of yours, you have no problem usually,” his hot words would whisper in your ear, and you’d hear him rub his erection against your ass, trying to get himself off, and you’d grind against him, wanting any friction, “tell me,” 

“Let me cum, please,” and he would smile, running his fingers through your hair, before he bore his thumb down on your clit and sunk a third finger into your needy cunt, just as you did now. And it’s too much for you, your toes curl, your messy walls fluttering around your fingers, as you cum all over your shorts and sheets with a groan of his name. Your fingers were soaked, as you pant, trying to gather yourself, as you came down from your high. 

“Fuck,” you murmur, tugging off your headphones, so your cunt doesn’t have to twitch listening to his dulcet words again. And you’re pulling your fingers out, your cum dripped down your fingers, as you shifted, far too wet underneath you, as you tried to slip off your bed to take a shower and clean yourself up. 

And then you realized, you didn’t even hear any of the lecture. 

Double fuck. 

Why was this so difficult? 

You stood near his office, trying to work up the urge to approach his door for office hours? Since it’s almost the end of the semester, there had been an influx of students attending office hours, and with everything, you had found excuses in your head to avoid office hours. But you couldn’t avoid him anymore. 

For your final paper in the class, you had to have a meeting with him during office hours to discuss your topic, complete with bibliography and outline. And it was almost time for your meeting. 

But you didn’t know how to go in. 

The last few weeks in class have made things worse. You couldn’t help but watch the other students fawn over Professor Geto, his lips curled as he spoke to them. And you’d leave class without a word. You had to stick through the semester and your feelings would disappear with time. You wouldn’t have to see him, you wouldn’t have class anymore, and you couldn’t talk to him. 

Or wouldn’t. 

But now you had to. And you didn’t know how— otherwise than just to do it. 

You knock at his door, “Come in,” and you open the door to see an empty desk, blinking, “I’m over here,”

And your head snaps to your right, and Professor Geto is sitting on his couch, his legs crossed with a stack of papers in hand. His jacket is slung over the side of the couch, his deep maroon button up sleeves rolled up, glasses perched on the tip of his nose. 

“I thought you lived at your desk,” you raise an eyebrow, “decided to change it up for the end of the semester?” 

“Everyone needs a change of scenery,” he leans forward, placing the stack of papers on the table in front of him, “do you want to sit here or move to the desk?” 

You shift in place, before moving to the couch beside him, “This is fine,” he stares, “what?” 

“Just surprised, you always have something to say,” he leans on his elbow, “no smart remarks today?” 

“Fresh out, can I offer you my proposal for the final paper instead?” You say dryly, and he cracks a smile, holding out your proposal. He clicks his red pen, readying his sword. 

He takes it, his dark eyes darting back and forth as he reads, his brow furrowed in concentration — and you can’t help but want to reach out and smooth his brow for him, tease him that he’ll get wrinkles. But you can’t. Can’t because that would cross a line that neither of you should cross. 

“You’ve come a long way,” he says, as he flips it back the front, writing only a few notes here and there. 

“But?” You wait for it. 

His gaze flickers up, a tilt of his head, “That was the end of my sentence,” 

You pause a moment, “Really?” 

“Really,” he scribbles a few more notes, “I look forward to reading the paper, it will be excellent I’m sure, maybe you’ll even get higher than a B+,” 

“Oh, ha, ha,” sarcasm dripping from your tongue, but you can’t help but smile, “you’ll miss me and my endless need for academic validation,” but was it really academic validation you were after now — your eyes gazed at him sitting with the tip of his pen pressed to his lips — or was it his? 

And it’s his turn to pause, and his lips curl into a soft smile, “I will,” 

Your breath catches, “Really?” 

He chuckles, “Really,” he licks his lips, his eyes glancing downward at your proposal than at your face, “I’ve enjoyed our chats this semester,” 

“Have you? Even when I argued with you,” a half nervous half serious laugh dies on your lips when his gaze meets yours, far too serious for your heart to take. 

“Especially then,” his fingers run through his hair a moment, before he speaks again, “I can’t say you could say the same,” 

“And why couldn’t you?” his eyes flicker with an emotion you can’t grasp fast enough, before it slips away into the depths of his dark irises. 

“Because you stopped coming,” his voice is soft, his tone barely even, and this gives you a real pause, heat flushing your body, as if his words had set every nerve ending alight, your mouth growing dry along with it, and it gives him a reprieve he needs to brush it aside, “you don’t have to, of course, these office hours are not relevant to your—” 

“I didn’t stop coming because I didn’t enjoy it,” you cut him off, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I stopped coming because I did,” 

He stares, “What do you—” 

“I don’t want academic validation anymore, I don’t care about my GPA,” you consider it a moment, “ok I do,” and he snorts, “but I care more about validation from you,” 

“From me?” he says, and his gaze tries to meet yours and it can’t — but his fingers brush against your skin, making your breath catch, your eyes finding his, “and what kind of validation do you want?” 

And you can’t find the words, and you hesitation makes him shake his head, “I apologize, I shouldn’t have—” 

“Will you have a drink with me?” and he’s speechless for once, “after the semester is over, of course — I know it wouldn’t be ethical before,” 

And his eyes find yours again, “Some would say it would be unethical after too,” 

“I would say it depends,” 

“On what basis?” and you can’t help but smirk. 

“Am I being graded, Professor?” and you delight in a small crack in his smiling veneer as a light flush dusts the tops of his ears, “and if I’m good, will you call me a good girl again?” 

He swallows, “I don’t want to cost you your education or your—” 

“I understand the risks, but we aren’t contemplating shifting a trolley to hit one person or five, or murdering one healthy person to save five sick ones,” and he raises an eyebrow, “it’s a drink to celebrate the end of the semester,” 

“And if it's something more?” he nearly whispers, the softness of his voice reflected in his features, as his fingers that rested on the couch twitched beside yours. 

“Then we’ll cross that bridge then,” and then you add with a small smile, “Or hit the metaphorical person with the trolley,” and it pulls at the corners of his lips. 

“You make a fair point,” and you gasp in mock surprise.

“The first time all semester you agree with me,” and he chuckles, a noise you wished you could hear him make innumerable times more. 

“Not the first,” he replies, before leaning forward, pressing your outline back into your hands, his fingers brushing yours, “we both agree you’re a good girl, don’t we?” 

And your breath catches, his words warm your skin, turning your blood to lava, “Professor,” and he smiles again. 

“When we go for drinks, call me Suguru.” 

~~~~ 

The semester wears on and finally draws to an end, but finals induced hibernation begins for you. A mix of papers and exams, you finish everything — including your paper for Professor Geto’s class. As always, he has you submit a paper and electronic copy, the paper copy to be dropped off at his office mailbox. And you do just that, the mailboxes being only around the corner from his office, and your heart squeezes at the thought of him. After this, the class was over, it was done. You weren’t his student anymore. 

And you place the paper into the mailbox and sigh, chewing your lip as you pass by his office, but find the door closed (and locked, as you quickly turned the doorknob to test it). Where was he? This was the time he was usually in his office, but maybe he had left campus for the semester — had he forgotten about your drinks? 

Fuck. You hadn’t even discussed a time or place, you had left it vague — “after finals.” Your cheeks burned at the memory, you were far too flustered to elaborate. And you had spent far too many nights imagining him calling you a ‘good girl’ in many other situations. 

And then you heard a call of your name, your gaze snapping up, your heart leaping, but only to see the department head. 

“Hi Professor, how are you?” and the two of you make polite chit-chat, until he asks you. 

“Have you applied to be a T.A. for the department?” and you blink, “applications just opened and I think from what I’ve heard about you around the department, I think you would be an excellent candidate.” 

“I’d love to be — how does the application process work?” and he explains that it’s a double blind process where applications are viewed without personal information of the candidates, and then matched with a professor based only on resume and writing samples. 

You can barely listen to the department head, still far too distracted with thoughts of Professor Geto — so you agree to apply, if only to placate the department head, and make an excuse to leave. 

It had been a week or so, as you lay in bed in your apartment, staring at your ceiling — you hadn’t even bothered to get Professor Geto’s personal number. You couldn’t even reach out to him if you tried, as the only way you could was through his university email, which was out of the question — the university had rules against a professor and student dating, and if anyone found that email — you sighed — it wouldn’t be good. 

Maybe it was for the best. 

The only communication you had gotten from him was an email from Professor Geto’s mailing list to the class from a few days ago, stating that he was out of state in a conference, and he would return soon, but your grades would be emailed to you. But the paper copies would be available to pick up in his office from 3:00 PM to 6:00 PM on Tuesday. It was almost time to pick up your paper, and your nerves bit at you as you thought about the possibility of seeing him. Who knows if he would even be there to begin with. 

Would it be anything? Would it be nothing? Was there not any point to this at all? 

Oh, great, you were becoming existential. 

You sat up, the only thing you could do was go. So you do, taking your time to get dressed. If you were going to see him, you might as well look your best. 

Fuck. You couldn’t go in. It had taken you longer to get back to campus than you thought, and now there were only a few minutes of his office hours left.

And you’re about to knock when the door opens, and you find yourself face to face with the man who has consumed every thought of yours for the last few months — good and bad alike. 

“Late again?” and you can’t help but smile. 

“I prefer fashionably late,” and his eyes rake over your outfit, making your cheeks burn. 

“You certainly are,” and he steps aside to allow you into his office, and you glance between the couch and the desk, but he makes the choice and sits at his desk, “I have your paper right here,” and he’s rifling through his file of papers, “how did your finals go?” 

“If I have an A on this paper, perfectly,” and a smile tugs at his lips, and you raise an eyebrow, “what? Something funny?” 

“Not at all,” and he pulls your paper out, ha “I just recall you saying you wanted something more than, what was it? ‘My academic validation?’” 

And your cheeks flush, “I did, but I also didn’t hear from you,” and your fingers reach for the paper, and he holds onto it, “Professor,” 

“I couldn’t reach out to you because I was still your professor, but once you get this grade, I’m not anymore,” and his gaze is sharper without his glasses today, his dark blue Henley doing nothing to help the flush on your cheeks — memories of your dreams flooding your mind, “and once you get this grade back, I’m not anymore,” 

“And what does that mean?” you can’t pull your eyes away from his, but his fingers let go of your graded paper, “how about you look at the last page of your paper and see?” 

You pull the paper into your hands, flipping to the last page: 

99 — I was impressed by this paper not only by the content but by its comprehension and use of both ethics and philosophy. But I was also impressed by the person who wrote the paper. You’ve shown determination and growth throughout the semester — and you have reminded me what we owe to each other. And I think we owe each other a drink, and a chance for this. 

You feel his eyes watch you as you read, your eyes finally meeting his — his brow knit together, his lips pursed, concentrated gaze trying to decipher your reaction. 

“Why a 99?” And his eyebrows raise, as if to ask, “that’s your question?” 

“You had some spelling and grammar errors,” 

“Really? You couldn’t let it slide?” And he tilts his head, before he sees your lips curling into a grin. 

“So you think it’s funny to mess with your professor?” And his voice drops, a playful tone that makes you nearly shiver, as he leans forward, resting his chin against his elbow. 

“You’re not my professor anymore, are you, Suguru?” he likes that by the way his teeth bite his bottom lip briefly, his eyes flitting to your lips for a moment and back to your eyes, “so I guess we’re using that trolley after all,” 

“If you want to,” he says softly, “I wouldn’t blame you if you change your mind, it’s a risk,” 

It was. It was a risk to your reputations, your careers, your futures — especially to yours. But, your eyes met his again. 

“Contractualism is about avoiding risk,” and he nods, as his gaze falls away, “but some risk is necessary in life, and I think this is one that’s worth taking,” 

“We will have to be careful,” he murmurs, but already his fingers are twitching, far too eager to touch you, “we can’t make any mistakes. I don’t want to hurt you,” he adds softly. 

“I know, I don’t want to hurt you either,” and you rise before slowly rounding his desk, “but I want to know what it’s like,” 

And he can’t stop himself — he gets to his feet, his fingers finding your cheeks and he kisses you. You can taste the black coffee on his lips, his kiss is gentle at first, so chaste and fleeting that you’d swear he didn’t kiss you at all — and so it’s not a second before your lips find his again, in a deeper kiss that steals every ounce of breath from your lungs, and leaves only heat behind. This was dangerous. The very risk you were both trying to avoid, but as he’s pressing you into the edge of his desk, you can’t find the logic you misplaced when those goddamn fingers you’ve been dreaming about squeeze your hips. 

“Fuck,” he’s panting — god that word sounded more sinful on his lips than it should — as he presses sweet kisses to your neck, “we shouldn’t be doing this here,” 

“Not very ethical,” you chuckle breathlessly, as your fingers rake through his now disheveled bun, “but I can’t find the sense to care,” your noses brush, as you can’t help but smile, “what would Scanlon or Kant say about this?” 

And his arms lift you onto his desk, several papers crumpling underneath, “Who the fuck cares?” he’s hissing, his lips find yours in a searing kiss, as his thighs press yours apart, as he settles himself between your legs, his knee grazing your core, drawing a delightful gasp from your lips, “I know what I want,” and his eyes soften, his fingers tracing the length of your cheek, “do you?” 

Before you can answer, two pings catch your attention — your phone and his computer lighting up with a notification, and you both pause a moment, as your eyes glance at the banner notification on your phone, skimming over the words. The T.A. positions have been assigned. 

“Fuck,” you hear him mutter, and you gaze snaps up to his on his computer, the email now opened on his screen, “this can’t be right—” 

“What is it—” and the question dies on your lips as your eyes find where his rested — 

You — you were his T.A. for next semester — for the very class that you met in. 

Fuck, indeed. 

✧ read part 2 now

✧ a/n: lets all remember that student and teacher relationships are bad in real life. it's ok to live vicariously through reader but unfortunately no professor will be as hot as professor geto or gojo T_T. s/o to @/laneymusings and @bucky-of-the-opera for beta reading this for me and being just absolutely wonderful!!

✧ tag list: @sokkasmoon, @unoriginalideas, @waytootiredforthisss, @sinnerstardoll, @secret-pages-of-my-heart, @drthymby, @hanlay, @catsgomurp, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @esuz, @difficultdomains, @poopyface222, @iwassentfromhell, @diogodxlot, @totallynotcc, @llovekami, @deadmarygolds, @teatreeoilll, @carcarcraziiv2, @forest-hashira, @aliyalala, @esuz, @that-goth-bisexual, @hehehehesthings, @imjustmememe, @j1jay, @iwassentfromhell,

[lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa]

fem!reader, heaps of cum, somnophilia, handjob, blowjob, lots of masturbation, its just mindless smut so um... yea.... i need to go to horny jail fr for this one.

word count: 1k

I just need more perv!sukuna man.... fucking pathetic and desperate and horny, i want him with that degenerate behaviour. hes alr a horny ass mf but ohhh my goodness do YOU light a fire in him that nobody else can... You make him question his fucking dignity bc he gets a raging boner every time you do the bare minimum...

Perv!sukuna who needs to take a bathroom break every now and then around you bc his dick just wont stay down - fucking his fist desperately in a toilet stall being as quiet as possible because this is so out of character for his image, he's supposed to be the nonchalant, mean, coldhearted guy!!

Perv!sukuna who shudders from how turned on he is at the simplest things you might do, like when you bump into him on accident and the scent of your perfume hits his nose like an aphrodisiac, he wants to bury his face against the crook of your neck and inhale deeply - let the smell of you reach deep into his lungs. he wants to run his tongue across your skin so he can check if you taste as good as you smell.

Perv!sukuna who eventually makes his moves on you slowly... but its really difficult when every little kiss makes all the blood rush to his cock. He drops you off to your house after a date, and he makes out with you a little bit in his car before you have to leave, and there, he's sitting in the driver's seat with a tent in his pants. He waits until the window to your room lights up, and begins to stroke himself while thinking about how're you're probably stripping in your bedroom right now, to change your clothes. and speaking of clothes....

Perv!sukuna who likes to bring any of your scented clothes against his nose and jack off vigorously, unable to get enough of it. eyes rolling back when that orgasm hits him while every breath he takes in has your smell embedded in it.

Perv!sukuna who somehow manages to snatch up one of your panties one day and jerks himself off with it... he didn't want to cum directly on it yet, but he couldn't help himself and soiled it so quickly. he'll need to wash it now, and your scent's gonna be lost. if that's the case, he'll just use it a few more times to get himself off. (by the end of it, he's ruined it beyond washing with his seed by going a bit overboard...)

Perv!sukuna who starts nosebleeding the first time he actually gets to wet his dick with your pussy. You were mortified when drops of blood started running down from his nose once his cock was inside you. He wipes it away with tissues from your bedside and insists hes fine with a wolfish grin... he's just overtly aroused. that night, he wound up using a whole box of condoms from just your cunt alone. milked completely. so satiated. at one point, he had forgotten to change condoms after cumming once and blew a couple of loads into the same one, making you balloon up a bit.

Perv!sukuna who has a libido of an endless pit, he can stay hard and just cum over and over and over again... could stuff you so full you'll be pushing his seed out of yourself for literal days after having sex with him, once you're on the pill. he's just dumped his seed into you but his hips are still thrusting, cock heavy and ready to give you another one without pulling out once.

Perv!sukuna who is obsessed with any and every part of your body. the way he gropes your tits, ass, thighs, hips, etc. resembles a perverted old man - those grabby hands are always finding a way to squish your flesh whatever chance he gets. those large, searing and calloused hands are constantly gliding across your skin, making you wet your panties without failing all the damn time. his arms snake under your clothes very sneakily. you can push him away and verbally chastise him all you want, but you can't hide how much you enjoy all of it...

Perv!sukuna who becomes relentless with somnophilia once you give him the consent-- it starts off with just pathetic and desperate dry humping, but soon you'll be waking up with his dick anywhere on the surface of your skin or inside you, and you're greeted with a 'good morning' that's riddled with a deep groan, followed by ropes of his hot cum spilling in or onto you.

Perv!sukuna who just HAS to drag you to somewhere like the public toilets, in order to get you to suck him off or stroke him or SOMETHING bc his boner is getting too painful (you caressed his thigh). you always opt for jerking him off when you're outside, because things tend to get too messy when you let him in. he has no self control smh... now he's fucking YOUR fist in a stall, panting in your ear and saying things like "fuck, yes, baby... squeeze me more- fuu-ck," before painting the toilet with spurts of his cum. you grip firmly onto the base of his dick and he almost buckles over from the pleasure. you feel his pulsating cock in your hand and bite your lip hard.

Perv!sukuna who gets an oral fixation after you gave him head once. things get difficult for you. those pretty lips wrapped around his erection makes him absolutely feral. now he's thrusting in and out of your throat mumbling "fuck- i can't- help myself-" because you're tightening up on him so nicely and it feels too good. releases straight inside with your nose pressed onto his pubic bone, hips jerking as you feel the spurts hit the back of your throat and seep down to your stomach. his eyes half-lidded, high from the pleasure.

sukuna might be the greatest pervert of all time, but what does it say about you when you stay with him regardless? you enjoy being his live fuck toy. thankfully, he gives you great aftercare and spoils you silly behind the scenes. (i wasnt bothered to write the romance aspects so please imagine it yourselves <3) the way i wanted to add MORE but refrained bc it would get a bit too repetitive :)

Masterlist

[lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa]

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. f!reader, implied virgin!reader, inexperienced!reader, pussyjob, corruption kink, edging, orgasm denial

“What’s the matter, angel? I thought you said you could handle this, no?” He says, voice holding a teasing lilt yet there’s a tremble to it you’re unaware of. His cocky smirk twitching and his brows furrowing slightly as he grinds his cock against your pussy, hypnotized by the sight of your cunt drooling for him— but he mustn’t give into the temptation before him. It’s sinful enough, the act he’s committing with someone as innocent and pure as you are, or, were before this.

Even still, part of him still believes you’re as blissfully innocent as ever despite the lewd sounds escaping your soft lips or how your eyes sparkle with want for more. Your body shivers, legs quivering as stimulation gets to your fuzzy brain and fills your head with cotton, eyes rolling back and lashes fluttering as you let out a whine of his name that makes his cock twitch and pulse against your sticky warmth.

“What’s the matter, hm?” He coos, smirking with a unfamiliar glint in his golden hues that you try to decipher from below him but it’s hard when your brain has all but malfunctioned at the overwhelming new sensations spreading throughout your body with each slide of his length over your sensitive clit.

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat as your lashes flutter and your eyes roll back just barely, but enough for him to get an indication of something approaching and he chuckles from above. “Getting close? Yeah?” He’s teasing, grinning at the way you respond in short ‘mhm’s that rise in pitch, not really paying much attention to what he’s saying but more so the feeling of that pressure building within you, tingling up your spine, making your eyes watery right as it reaches its peak.

Only then, when you’re right on the edge, breath stuck in your throat and your body jerky and twitching with a desperate need to release — does his motions come to a halt suddenly. So quick that you don’t even realize why or what caused that good feeling to disappear until you focus your vision on his face and understand that he’s withholding that pleasure you were experiencing a moment ago from you. A whine bubbles in the back of your throat at this, slight frustration growing within you as your brows knit together and you grab at the satin sheets beneath yourself.

His eyes narrow as his lips morph into a teasing smile while he leans down just enough that the weight of gravity brings his wings closer to your face, soft feathers brushing over your temples leaving you feeling a little warmer than before at the close proximity as he nears closer. His hands smooth over your waist, gloves spotless and his touch gentle with his demonstrations as he teases the tips of his fingers up and down your stomach, enjoying the way your body is so reactive to everything he continued to give you.

He looks down at the messy sight of your pussy, his cock nestled against it’s warmth and it takes every fiber of his being to not slip it in, even if for a second to just get a feel of what your sacred little piece of heaven feels like. Yet he relents from that desire and returns his gaze back to your own after taking note of the precum oozing from his tip right onto your poor little clit that begs for attention. He’d sink into your inviting warmth soon enough, he just had to be patient as it wasn’t time yet.

He brings a hand up to your face, cupping your cheek and rubbing his thumb over your skin in faux comfort. He doesn’t feel the least bit apologetic for reducing you to the state you’re in now before him. In fact, he relishes in the way you squirm under him, eyes all glassy and so curious of what all he was capable of yet wanting more of the unknown pleasure he could bestow upon you if he so pleased.

He pauses his movements for a moment before grabbing your chin firm enough to have control and tilts your head downwards, lining your sight up directly with the sticky mess that was between your two shaking thighs. His cock, all red and angry, needing a release he wouldn’t allow himself of just yet, as your creamy slick coats the underside of his long length. He brings a hand down to the base, lifting his heavy cock just enough that you could get a glimpse of your arousal webbing between the two of you and keeping you connected, glistening in the dim lighting of the room and causing heat to swirl in your stomach as you clench around nothing at the sinful sight. He finds your reactions entertaining, chuckling at the way your eyes stay locked onto the sight of his cock in all it’s glory.

If you were any less coherent, you probably would’ve drooled over the sight despite the part of you that felt shameful committing these acts with Sunday of all people. Yet he was the safest option in all of Penacony. Offering to educate you in this newfound world and let you explore it through him and him alone. After all, anyone else would be doing it for their own personal gain, but not Sunday, no, he was just looking out for you and helping you. Isn’t he such an angel for doing so?

“C’mon, pretty, you can keep going right?” He asks, voice quiet and oh so tender when addressing you with a petname that makes your head spin. He’s amused by how your hips jerk slightly upwards, as if begging to be fucked. But he wouldn’t give it to you, not yet. No, you had to earn it and earn it you shall, through learning by his means. “Just a little longer, I promise it’ll be worth it, sweetheart.”

He grins down at you, and for a moment you think he looks rather ethereal above you like this. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about a thing, okay? Just relax and let me make you feel good, yeah?”

[lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa]

Like Hoarded Gold (Part 4) Yandere!Gojo/Geto x Fem!Reader

Part 3 TBC in Part 5

Summary: Suguru Geto and Satoru Gojo are complete strangers to you, but when they unexpectedly learn of the tragic news that has irrevocably shattered your life to pieces, the two of them become determined to help you and make you happy again, whether you want them to or not.

Warnings: Stalking, obsessive behavior, dirty thoughts, gaslighting, VERY yandere!!!, see tags for more...

Side Note: I do NOT and never will condone the actions committed in this or any future chapters, please be mindful and respectful of the fact that all of this is purely fiction.

3 Months Later

“You really should just move in already, Lollipop.”

The sudden statement nearly had you dropping the pot of boiling pasta you had been carrying over to the sink as you turned to face the culprit.

Satoru was seated on a stool at the breakfast bar, his head resting on the arms he had crossed on top of the marble surface and his lips turned down in the same frowning pout you had become all too familiar with since meeting him and Suguru three months ago.

“What are you babbling about?” You asked, though you had a feeling you knew exactly where this particular conversation was headed as you dumped out the perfectly cooked al dente pasta into the strainer. “Stop being so ridiculous.”

“I’m being completely serious.” He whined, his pout growing ever more pronounced as he sat up straighter.

Before you could retort, Suguru chimed in with his own, completely unhelpful, opinion on the matter from his spot at the dinner table where he was typing away at his laptop.

“It's not a bad idea, Angel.” He said, and looked over at you with the same beautiful smile that always sent a wave of butterflies fluffing in your stomach. “You're practically moved in already, so why not just make it permanent? You barely spend any time at your own place anymore, and a good amount of your stuff is already here with us, so it would be an easy transition.”

They weren't exactly wrong…

Since meeting them, the two men had quickly become a near permanent fixture in your everyday life.

Outside of the classes you didn't share with them, one or both of them was with you at almost every moment of the day. They drove you to and from school, to all your appointments, and helped you run your day to day errands, and even when they weren't physically at your side, which wasn't very often these days, they were constantly checking in on you via text and calls.

And because of their constant proximity, you’d been learning a great deal about them over the course of the last few months.

Like how Suguru wasn't even slightly joking about Satoru’s sweet tooth; especially once you watched the man eat an entire box of artisan chocolates in a single sitting, the kind that cost a month's worth of groceries and made your teeth hurt just looking at them.

And because of that, you had also very quickly learned that he wasn't the least bit shy about throwing around insane amounts of money, something of which he apparently had a lot.

The day after learning that you had drunkenly told them about your parents abandoning you, Satoru had dragged you to a cell phone store and purchased you a “cheap” burner phone to tide you over until your new one arrived, and when you had tried to hastily reject the generous offer, he had been incredibly insistent, citing that it wasn't safe for you to be without one for any length of time. And you were eventually forced to admit that he was right to a certain extent; Japan had one of the lowest crime rates worldwide and it was an incredibly safe country to live in, but as a foreigner who was still new to the language, culture, and customs, it was always better to be safe than sorry.

But one of the biggest and most surprising things you had learned about him, was just how unapologetically clingy he was.

After that vulnerable moment on the couch, after your agreement to stay with them for a while, it was like the floodgates had opened up and Satoru had spent those first few days absolutely smothering you with affection: hugs of all varieties, cuddles on the couch while the three of you watched something on the television, and even the occasional kiss on the forehead or the cheek.

You had taken it all in stride, but you couldn't help how awkward it had felt at first, not just because he was still a stranger and it was behavior you were so unused to receiving, but because it had felt far too intimate, and every time he did so, you kept expecting Suguru to jump in and jealously accuse you of being some kind of man stealing homewrecker. But each time Satoru wrapped his long limbed body around you or tugged you into his lap, you would shift your nervous gaze in the dark haired man's direction, and you always found him watching the two of you with the warmest expression on his face.

It was a silly thought that made no sense at all, but seeing that look on his face always made you think he was seeing something he'd been waiting his whole life for, like looking at you and Satoru was all he ever wanted to do.

Suguru himself wasn't as outwardly affectionate with you as his boyfriend was, at least, not as often, but he had other ways of showing he cared; like in the way he always seemed to remember your likes and dislikes when it came to food and drinks, or how he was always the first one to take away your notes and textbooks whenever you spent too long hunched over them during a study session, often bringing you snacks and encouraging you go sit outside with him on the balcony/terrace for a bit. 

He was like a mother-hen at times, always doing what he could to make you feel comfortable and telling you that you worked way too hard and you needed to take more breaks, and yet he was also the first one who would chastise Satoru whenever he tried to interfere with your studies or otherwise distract you from important tasks.

He understood the importance of hard work and diligence, but he also understood that those things couldn't be properly achieved or cultivated without time to distress and process everything at the end of the day.

The two of them were as different as night and day, especially when it came to their love languages, but they also balanced each other out in a strange way that perfectly complemented one another.

You couldn't properly express in words how much you appreciated the companionship they had given you these last few months, because without them, you weren't so sure you would have survived the emotional strain the loss of your parents had put on you, because it hadn't dawned on you just how truly alone you had been feeling until you suddenly had, not one, but two people to lean on for support and comfort.

However, this current topic was one you weren't looking forward to discussing, despite having already sensed it coming.

The two of them had been dropping some subtle, and not so subtle, hints for the last week or two now that they wanted you to permanently leave your dorm room/apartment and just move the last of your belongings into what had unspokenly become ‘your room’ here in their home, but you were still heavily undecided on the whole matter.

Since the moment you met them, the number of nights you had slept at your own place was likely in the low double digits, as the two of them always seemed to find ways to talk you into staying over. And it wasn't as if you didn't enjoy spending so much of your time here at the penthouse with them, you adored the both of them and their home was beautiful, but having the option of your own place to return to was more of an insurance policy than anything else, just in case your newfound friendship with them ever fell apart or you all needed a break from each other.

“I don't know…” You let the words trail off as you turned back to the simmering pot of sauce on the stove. “This is a home you two have made together for yourselves, and I just don't want to be anymore of an intrusive third wheel than I already have been.”

It only took a few moments before you felt a large set of hands on your hips, turning you away from your task and around to face him, and before you even saw who it was, you immediately knew that it was Satoru, just by the scent of cool peppermint that always seemed to follow him everywhere.

“Come on, I thought we were past this phase by now.” He said, and gently took your chin between his thumb and pointer finger so he could angle your face up to meet his own, and as always, the bright vibrancy of his blue eyes had you in a complete choke-hold. “When have we ever not wanted you here?”

The position he had you in would have been awkward if it were with anyone but him or Suguru, what with how intimate it felt, but knowing he was in a happy and committed relationship with someone else, and after three straight months of experiencing the man’s complete disregard for personal space and boundaries, something like this was barely enough to phase you anymore.

“Neither of you has ever made me feel unwelcome.” You sighed, trying to look down at your feet, but Satoru only firmed up his grip on your chin, not painfully, but just enough to keep you facing him. “But just because you want me around right now, that doesn't mean you'll feel the same way in another three months.”

It pained you to say the words out loud, and once again, you found yourself resenting your parents just a little bit more than you already did, because it was their fault you now felt this way about yourself. You knew it wasn't true, that you weren't unlovable, or even unlikable, but the self deprecating thoughts wouldn't stop hounding you like living nightmares. They lived in your head on a constant loop, and even though you knew it was pointless, you couldn't stop thinking about what you possibly could have done differently growing up that might have made your parents actually want to stay in your life.

“Let me ask you something, Angel.”

You slowly turned your head in the direction of Suguru's voice, giving him nothing but your full attention while Satoru reached out to turn off the burners on the stove while the three of you had this talk, it wouldn't do any good to set both dinner and the kitchen on fire.

“Of course.” You responded honestly, if a bit quietly.

Suguru smiled at you so very gently, but his tone was firm as he asked you his first question.

“Have you managed to find a part-time job yet, or gotten any call backs about interviews?” He asked, though he already knew the answer you would give him.

You sighed in resignation as you looked down at the floor and shuffled your feet like a toddler being scolded, but responded with a ‘no’, and shook your head for emphasis in case the whispered word didn't quite reach his ears.

It was often difficult for foreigners to find work in Japan, especially without a trade skill or much prior work experience, so he and Satoru had been the ones to go over all your applications and resume before you submitted them, making sure that all your spelling and use of kanji was correct, and they both knew that exactly zero potential jobs had called you back for interviews or to offer you a position.

“And how much of your savings do you have left?”

It was yet another question he already knew the answer to, and you knew exactly what he was trying to accomplish with this particular line of inquiry.

It was already bad enough that they knew about what your parents had done to you, but then they had also learned about your impending financial troubles not long after that, and it all just made you feel so weak and pathetic.

You had unexpectedly ran into them at the convenience store near your place on one of the rare nights you had chosen to sleep in your own bed, rather than crashing in the guest bedroom at their place, and when they had spotted your shopping cart full of the cheapest instant noodles you could find, it hadn't taken much effort for them to put two and two together to figure out why. And up until now, they had been kind enough not to mention it too directly or very often, offering instead to let you cook for them most of the time so that you could get regular and proper meals without feeling like you were mooching off of them constantly.

But, now it seemed that their patience had run its course and they were done beating around the bush about it.

“(Y/N), you can't keep doing this to yourself, or to us.” Suguru said, rubbing his temples and sounding so exasperated that it just made you feel even worse. “I know you don't want us worrying about you, but we physically can't help it, and you trying to do all of this on your own is just making us even more concerned.”

Frustrated tears burned behind your closed eyes as you felt Satoru's arms tighten around you.

“Suguru is right, Cupcake.” He said, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. “We know you can take care of yourself, but just because you can, doesn't mean that you should have to.”

You tried to pull away, to put some space between you and him so you could think clearly, but he only held you tighter and went on speaking as you felt Suguru approaching at your back, caging you between their two massive frames.

“We love having you here, we want you to stay, and that's never going to change, never. So please, just lean on us and let us take care of you a little bit more.”

You opened your mouth to try and say something, to argue, or just… anything, but you were quickly cut off before you could get the words out.

“No more excuses, Angel.” Suguru said in that tone that always left you feeling thoroughly chastised. “If you won't move in and let us help you for yourself, then do it for our sake if nothing else, so we can stop worrying about you just a little less.”

With both of them crowding around you like they were, feeling their combined body heat and the press of them against your front and back, it was making it hard to think straight. You knew they were making good and solid points, especially where your finances were concerned; you might not have to worry about rent and utilities, but your scholarship didn't provide for things like hygiene and household products, food, your phone bill, or any other expenses that might need to be taken care of later on down the road. And with no income yet to help cover those things, you were going to be scraping the bottom of the barrel here soon to try and take care of yourself.

“Honey, just let us handle the little things for you for a little while, so all you have to focus on are your studies and hanging out with your two favorite people in the whole world.” Satoru exclaimed cheerfully, and leaned even further down to nuzzle his nose against your own.

At that particular comment, you couldn't help but smile as a bit of the tension lifted from your shoulders.

This was one of the many things you adored about them, how they were always so quick to try and brighten your mood after a hard day or a difficult conversation. It brought certain sadder aspects of your childhood into stark perspective, because it was something you had never before experienced with your parents or 'friends’ back home. Everyone had always been too caught up in their own lives and problems to worry about you or listen to your own woes, and a part of you had just come to think that behavior was normal, and it wasn't until meeting the couple now huddled around you that you realized what it was like to have loved ones who actually gave a damn about you.

They were fast becoming the best friends you’d never had before, and despite having only known them for three months, you really did love them both to pieces.

Perhaps it was needy and pathetic of you to have latched onto them so quickly, but what else were you supposed to do when you were so far from home and had no one else in your corner?

The one and only time you had foolishly made mention of just calling it quits and going back home, where things would be, if not not easier, then at least familiar, the two men had practically been beside themselves with grief over the suggestion and in your effort to pacify them, the idea had been quickly swept under the rug, never to been spoken of again.

But you were so tired; tired from your workload at school, of your failure to find a job, of stressing over your money troubles, of thinking about your parents.

It was all just so much to deal with, and before you knew what you were doing, the words were already tumbling past your lips.

“If I agree to this,” And you held up a single finger for stern emphasis the moment you saw Satoru’s face begin to brighten in the way it usually did when he realized he and/or Suguru were about to get their way. “If I agree to this, you two have to promise to let me handle the majority of the cooking and the basic cleaning, and you need to be upfront with me if I do anything you don't approve of. This is still your home after all, and as far as I’m concerned, I’m a freeloader.”

Both of them simply squeezed you in a tighter embrace that you took for their agreement of your demands.

“We promise, you're going to be so fucking happy with us here that you'll never want to leave.”

----------

“Do you have any idea how hard it was not to kiss her?”

Suguru smiled in amusement as Satoru groaned his frustrations into his pillow later on that night after they had made sure you were sound asleep and safely tucked into your temporary bed.

“I know what you mean.” He admitted, pulling off his shirt and tossing it into the hamper. “I couldn't stop thinking about how easy it would have been to just hike up that cute little dress of hers and fuck her silly right there in the middle of the kitchen.”

Satoru perked up at that and he licked his lips as the thought of you covered in a mixture of chocolate drizzle and cum filled his head, making his cock throb and his mouth water.

“How much longer are we going to have to keep waiting?” He asked, sounding even more whiny and petulant than usual. “I can't take another three months of this, Suguru. I just can't. She should be up here right now, naked and in this bed, not downstairs so far away from us.”

At any other time, Suguru might have rolled his eyes at the over exaggerated claim his boyfriend was throwing around, if he wasn't feeling much the same, but if Satoru wasn't going to be the voice of reason for himself, then he needed to be for the both of them.

“She's still processing everything she's been through, so we need to keep taking things slowly for now.” He responded, though the words lacked his usual conviction. “We only just now convinced her to fully move in, and if we start to push too hard, we could very easily spook her and send her running in the opposite direction.”

Satoru scoffed and rolled his eyes at that.

“She'd certainly be welcome to try, but I doubt there's anywhere she could go where we wouldn't find her.”

“Don't forget, Satoru, that that's the exact outcome this plan is meant to help us avoid.” He countered softly, but didn't contradict his statement beyond that. “I know that if we went about this your way, she'd already be tied to this bed and under strict lock and key, and while that's a tempting idea, we agreed to at least try and go about this in a more traditional way. Or do you not want her to be happy with us here?”

Satoru knew that Suguru hadn't meant for the statement to sound so pandering, but even so, he was pent up and frustrated enough that he couldn't do anything to stop the wave of intense anger and annoyance swelling up inside of him, but only because he knew that Suguru was mostly right, and he was a prideful bastard who hated being proven wrong. But in truth, the biggest reason for his sudden anger came from the implication that he didn't care about the state of your mental health, that he was only focused on sleeping with you and nothing more.

“Don't you dare fucking imply that I don't care about her! I love her just as much as you do, and me wanting to fuck her doesn't mean her happiness is any less important to me.” He spat, sitting up to give the dark haired man an uncharacteristically bitter expression. “So don't go giving me that sanctimonious bullshit, Suguru, because I see that look in your eyes, and I know you're just as sick of all this pussyfooting around as I am.”

“I never said I wasn't!” He snapped back, perhaps a bit too harshly, since what Satoru said wasn't technically untrue, he just wasn't about to admit it directly. “But she's clearly still coming to terms with what those ass-holes did to her, on top of dealing with some pretty severe abandonment issues. And just because I would be more than willing to lock her up to make her ours, if the need were to ever arise, that doesn't mean that's how I want it to go down.”

Satoru said nothing to the contrary after that and for a few moments, the two lovers lapsed into an awkward silence.

It wasn't often that they fought or argued beyond their usual banter and playful bickering, but whenever they did, it always left a bitter taste in their mouths, and this time was no exception, and it was made all the worse because of how quickly it had escalated from seemingly nowhere. Neither of them had intended for it to happen, but it had; and now, the only question left was which of them would be the first to try and make amends and end the silent stalemate.

…

…

…

Suguru was the one to break it this time as he stood up and walked around to Satoru’s side of the bed and took up a spot beside him.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He whispered softly, and placed a comforting hand over one of Satoru’s. “I never meant to make it sound like I don’t think you care about her, because I know you do, and I should have just watched what I was saying, rather than taking my own frustrations out on you for no reason.”

He waited for a few heartbeats, pausing to see if the other man would give him some kind of confirmation to continue, and when Satoru sighed heavily and turned his hand over to lace their fingers together, Suguru sagged with relief as the Gojo heir said his peace.

“I'm sorry as well.” Satoru replied and turned to give him a weak smile. “I know you're right and that we need to play our cards right, but whenever I look at her, all I can think of is how badly I fucking need her. Having her here and not being able to be open and honest about our feelings for her is like slow torture, and I just want this stage to be over with so we can all finally move forward.”

Suguru nodded in total understanding, because it was exactly how he felt.

“I know.” He whispered, and pulled him into a warm embrace as they both laid back on their bed. “I feel the same as you, but we just need to be patient for a little while longer, perhaps another three months or so, but hopefully much sooner. And while I know it's going to feel like an eternity for the both of us, just think about how good it's going to be once we have her bending over backwards to please us as thanks for everything we've done for her.”

Satoru’s answering grin was a thing of wicked beauty, one that showed just a little too much teeth as he imagined you crawling onto his lap and begging for permission to sit on his throbbing dick, to act as his own personal little cock-warmer until he gave you the go ahead to bounce on it, and all because you just couldn't handle feeling so empty without one of them inside you. Or, on a much softer note, there was also just how cute you were going to look prancing around the apartment in all the new clothes he planned on buying for you once they officially made you their girl. How he'd make you model each outfit and article of clothing just for him and Suguru and how adorable your expression would be once the lingerie was brought out for you to try on as the finale.

“I suppose that, for that kind of motivation, I can force myself to be patient for a little while longer if necessary.” He said, and let loose an overly exaggerated sigh as he nuzzled his face against the warmth of Suguru's neck and draped an arm across his broad and perfectly sculpted chest. “She's more than worth it after all.”

Suguru was in complete agreement with him on that point and he smiled and kissed the top of Satoru’s white head, because to them, you truly were worth the wait.

There wasn't a single thing about you that they didn't love with all their hearts, and every new facet of you that was revealed to them day by day only strengthened their resolve to make you theirs and keep you forever. They would give you the perfect forever home, one with two loving partners who would never hurt or leave you, who would give you the world on a silver platter, and all they wanted in return was for you to dedicate yourself to them as wholeheartedly as they were to you and each other.

“We just need to wait a little longer. After all, it's as you said; she has no one and nowhere she could run to.”

So, this one ended up being significantly shorter than the last two chapters, but I felt it was a good place to cap it since the next chapter is going to be covering a lot of events over a fairly long stretch of time.

As always, please share your thoughts with me and let me know what you think. Reviews and comments are what feed my writers soul and I'm so happy to see how well this story has been received so far.

And as always, I want to give a BIG thank you to my amazing friend @talpup for all the brainstorming and encouragement on these stories! I’m sure I would have given up on this blog a while ago if it wasn’t for all of their help. I highly encourage anyone who takes the time to read this to go over to their page or their AO3 account under the same name and check out their works, especially Chaos and Erase The Shadow. They are two of my favorite BNHA fics of ALL TIME! And who has also started their own Yandere!Overhaul fic called Crossroads and is set in a 1920′s prohibition style era, it’s amazing and you need to check it out!

[lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa]

— bully!geto x fem!reader, bully!gojo x fem!reader

c/w: noncon, sexual assault & harassment, noncon filming, panty stealing, forced blowjob, inexperienced reader, reader is in love, gojo being soft? possessive gojo

a/n: hey!! this is pt2 hihihi sorry for the late update bc i have so many things going on and yeah! thanks for being patience. yesterday i fainted during my marching practice :')

tags: @theitchbbbb @gojoswife201 @the-goddess-nyxxx @freecolortrashgoth-blog @rottmntrulesall @hehehehesthings @gladiolusluvr @childes-cvmslvt @ninnseo @mahalinasgrave @yourvvenicebitch @ichikanu @zeninslut @kawaiimusiccollection @animepoet115 @yeonieesss

masterlist ✨

1.7 w.c

Walking quickly, clenching your teeth, hugging yourself as your breathing quickens, you’ve been walking across the hallway carefully making sure your ‘friends’ aren’t there to harass you. Your eyes went from left to right, observing your surroundings until people started to creep out by your behavior, “Why is this nerd so weird?”, they said. You immediately flinch as soon as you feel a sudden tap on the shoulder. “Oh no! I-Is it them??”, you thought and slowly turned to meet them, preparing yourself for the happy reunion, although you’re not so happy about it.

“Y/N, are you okay?”, Nanami asks, quirking his brow, he’s so worried about you. Why are you so scared? Nanami is your first friend and your first person who loves to be with you, unlike other students who only talk to you regarding assignments and hard-level subjects you aced. Only Nanami is willing to be with you, eat lunch together, walk to class together even though he’s in a different major (he takes law whilst you take physics). He even introduces you to Haibara and Ino, those two are nice and love hanging around with you. You love them dearly.

“Oh! I-it’s nothing… Kento…”. The way you pronounce his first name so sweetly made his cheeks flutter which he hides it with a cough. He seems to not trust you because to him, you’re a bad liar but he just ignores it, hoping to investigate it by himself rather than asking you. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. He’s such a gentleman, no wonder you find yourself yearning for his presence but not this time.

“I have to go—”, you huff but before you can walk, Nanami speaks up.

“Let me walk with you”.

You want to accept it but… you’re scared, scared that Nanami will judge you or worse hate you because what if you accidentally met your bullies on the way? and let your bullies have their way with you or the way you’re too weak to defend yourself. You don’t want Nanami's help, you don’t want to be too dependent on him, he always helps you and protects you. He did so much for you. You’re afraid that he will find you annoying and leave you.

“It’s fine”, you flash him your usual smile with a hint of sorrow in it. Nanami sighs, he knows something is wrong but just keep it to himself and maybe he will secretly follow you to find the truth. He cares about you.

You take a few steps, finally away from him and you can see the door of today's class, calculus. It’s one of your favorite subjects. You look at your watch, it’s 7:30 a.m, 30 more minutes before class starts. Wanting to grab the doorknob and twist it and suddenly, a hand (which is bigger than yours) grabs the doorknob. Looking up to see who is it, your eyes widen and your throat dries. No, it can’t be, you make sure to observe your surroundings — keeping sure they’re not here. But you’re wrong.

“Good morning, princess”, Geto smiles. His smile which people find sweet and cute but to you, it hides so much sinister. He frowns, not getting any response from you as you are shaking from his presence, and the worst is that he is holding your hand, not giving it any announce of letting you go.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”, he glares. Before you can say anything, he pulls you towards the store room, away from everyone. Struggling and squirming, trying to break free from his grasp as he slams the door.

Geto’s soft eyes turn into a glare as he looks down on you, his yellow eyes shine with mischievous and gladly form a smirk. His hand slowly creeps into your cheek and cups it to bring you closer to him, your face is a few inches away from him. He has the urge to kiss your pouty lip but decides not to.

“P-Please Suguru��”, you plead as tears start forming in your eyes. You hope he didn’t do anything adverse.

“Shhh…. I will not hurt you but I want something. No, I need something from you”, his gaze went from your crystalized eyes to your breast and to your soft plump thighs. He grins.

“Gimme your panties”.

Your heart quickens. “What-?”.

“I don’t need to repeat it myself. Gimme your panties or….”, he comes closer and whispers into your ear. “I will have to rip your clothes and you have to walk around naked inside the campus hmm”, he threatens as his hot breath fanning your ear, making you weak in the knees.

“N-No… please…”, tears run down your cheek as you squint, trying to control yourself from becoming a sobbing mess. Lifting your skirt and slowly sliding down your pink panties. Geto gladly takes it and sniffs your panties which causes you nausea. He puts your panties inside his pant pocket and grins upon seeing your cute hands tugging your skirt as down as possible to make sure it is long enough to cover your bare cunt and ass.

-

Take a deep breath and sit on your seat, closing the gap between your thighs to cover the fact you’re not wearing anything, your heart beats faster than usual, hoping nobody notices your shuffling and squirming on the seat. A sudden chair is dragged by someone beside you, and decide to take a seat. You nervously glance towards the person and your heart drop. It was Gojo, smiling at you as if you were his best friend, maybe for them but not you. You didn’t expect to see him here in the same class and same major as you.

“Why are you tugging your skirt hmm?”, Gojo innocently tilts his head and tries to grab your wrist to which you quickly pull it away and sweat nervously, avoiding his eyes. He frowns, he seems to hate the idea of you avoiding his touch — Gojo is a touch-starved person, he loves hugging and giving you surprise kisses, on the other way, you dislike it because he’s too rough with his touches.

Gojo went back into his usual self and smiled widely, feel uneasy by his sudden mood swing, you decided to maybe just listen to him.

“I know”, he mutters to which you tilt your head quizzically. “Suguru told me”. Your eyes widen, of course, he knows, they’re close enough that many consider them as more than best friends, some might wonder if they had fuck already but that’s none of your concern.

“You’re whore for giving him what he needs, you like him more than me hmm?”. You swear you saw Gojo’s eyes darken and his words feel infuriated. Is he mad? Or jealous that you prefer Geto more than him, the honoured one, Gojo Satoru. There is no way he’s jealous right? He waits for your answer to which you can’t gather the courage to speak, too afraid that your answer might be not what Gojo wants to hear.

After class ended, he drags you into an isolated hallway — you couldn’t do much due to his strong grip on your arm as if he wanted to break your bones but he’s not gonna do it because he loves you, you’re his best friend.

“On knees”, he commands and you obey him, not wanting to further his mood swing. The sound of unbuckling belt sends a chill down your spine, oh… is it what you think is it? No, it can’t be, no way he will let you suck his cock out in public, it’s…. too risky! The thought of getting caught by the students and the lecturer caused your tears to slide down your eyes and begin to sniffle. And… what if Nanami saw you? Will he hate you because you let your bully torment you?

Hearing your snorting turns him on even more, Gojo loves seeing your crying face and your mouth shivering, begging him to stop. He smirks as his cock spring free from his boxer and his tip instantly hits your face. He’s so big and thick.

“Suck it”.

“B-But… someone… might… see”, you sob. He yanks your hair and pulls you even closer to his throbbing cock.

“I said suck”.

That was his last warning.

You immediately open your mouth as wide as possible to take his big size and slowly descend lower into his length. Gojo laughs the way you wrongly give him a blowjob, he didn’t expect you to be good at it, no, you’re just too innocent and nerdy to even know this kind of stuff. So, he just lets you do it yourself without his guidance, he wants you to find it by yourself, and do your own research. He wants you to learn. It’s way hotter, to him. Bobbing your head up and down until his tip instantly hits your throat, it feels so painful and it’s worse since you’re not used to breathing through your nose only, causing you to gag further.

Gojo hisses as he feels his cock embraced by your warm mouth, even though your blowjob skill suck, he still loves the way you’re trying your best to make him feel good. He has to reward you for that. Smiling, he grabs his phone and opens the phone camera to hit the record button. He makes sure to record his cock disappearing deep inside your mouth, slurping and squelching sound just can’t wait to show it to Geto and Shoko later on.

Upon noticing the camera, you quickly cover your eyes with your palm, feeling humiliated, you never thought to be doing this inappropriate stuff in public and you did it with your childhood bully whom you loathe. It was supposed to be with someone you love like Nanami- damn it!

It feels painful, his cock so big and long making your mouth sore and your throat feel as if it’s been scraped. Tears flow down your pretty face from how hurt it is. Being forced to give your tormentor a head which you’re not experienced and being recorded by him, god know what will he do to that video. Gojo immediately notices your discomfort and the way you vigorously tap his thigh, he carefully pulls out and kneels down to your level to wipe away your tears. You eventually lean onto his touch to receive comfort from him that you didn’t know why you do it. His big hand slowly caresses your cheek while looking at you with those soft eyes.

“Shhh… It’s ok, baby”, he sweetly mutters. A few minutes ago, he’s been so mean and harsh on you, harassing you the way he likes but now he becomes soft as if they’re completely different person. Why?

[lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa]

BIG BULLY

PAIRINGS: GOJO SATORU x READER

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI, NON CON, BULLYING, IMPLIED LOSS OF VIRGINITY, DELUSIONAL!GOJO, IMPLIED BULLY!GOJO, --- JUST A DRABBLE

A/N: I wrote this on my phone cuz I need to! Nothing crazy but I hope you enjoy some Gojo! 🥰

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Don't give me that," he said, annoyed when your body flinched, involuntarily, when he touched your knee.

You pulled yourself backwards and shuddered when you felt the headboard against your back. You need to be as far away from him. Just being this close makes you want to die.

Why are you so stupid?

Tears frozen and sticky on your cheeks, fresh ones joined them as you felt him dripping out of you. You choked on your own hiccups as you felt his seed oozing out of your sensitive flesh due to the sudden shift of your movements. The evident red stain on his white sheets, made your hand pull tighter on the blanket you used to keep your modesty.

You were so naive.

You should have said no. You should have stayed home. Or maybe you should have known better and prepared yourself to just be bullied next time. Who even told you that confronting your bully will solve all of your problems? If it does, bullying will cease to exist. You should have shut your mouth instead of asking him to meet you and convince him to stop tormenting you further.

Now, you regret everything.

Your body is sore and bruised all over. You don't even need to see it in the mirror to check the damage he has done. You can feel it. Especially, down there. He wasn't gentle at all. He was rough and mean; as if wanting to brand you. To make you feel him all over your body. Deep inside you felt his possessiveness to mark you.

He stood up and stretched. Lithe body betraying his rotten personality. He looks satisfied. Calmed, even. His actions lit a fire within you and without thought, your hands pulled the sheets too strongly. The next thing you knew, the force of your pull destroyed the thin piece of cotton, ripping it into two, and causing the white sheet to bunch up on your stomach and involuntarily, showing your still swollen pussy at him. Giving him another free sight of what he did.

A shame to you. An achievement to him.

In panic, you did your best to put it back on. To cover you again. But before you could put the sheet back down, he was unto you, and he held your legs tightly, showing your still sensitive flesh in front of him. Closer. Personal.

He was frowning as he stared at it. He looks annoyed by something he saw down there.

With a surprised gasp, your body went cold when he did the unthinkable.

"Geez! Babe, you're moving too much. See? You made it fall out of you. Do you know how many women want my seed inside of them? They begged, they cried and they threw tantrums but it was only you I have chosen! Be thankful that it was only you, I did it raw." He tsked as he scooped the still warm cum and put it back within you. Your gummy walls squeezed his digits. They were too big and you were still sensitive. But he groaned when he felt you tightened, mistaking the gesture for your approval.

"God. I should have taken you sooner. This pussy is obviously made for me. I was naive and stupid, babe. I'm sorry." He looked down and moved his face closer to you. You froze in fear, but when he finally touched your bruised lips, you did not hesitate the bloody scream you let out. With renewed strength, you tried to push him away. However, this is Gojo. And he had always been too strong.

Your voice echoes throughout the room as he maneuvers his body again to fit into you. He is delusional. And you invited the insane. When he finally placed his tip near your entrance, he did not feel any remorse as he dipped his girth all the way in, deeply, using his previous seed as a lube, to easily move back and forth within you. You felt all of him. His veins and muscles twitching inside with excitement. He groaned with fervor.

That night, he showered you with praise, clung to you like a lover should. Acting as if what he did was the norm. As if you two were together before all of this.

What you did was a mistake and you won't be able to recover from now on. He branded you as his and you know he has you by the neck.

[lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa]

How would bully Satosugu react to you wearing a short sundress??? 🤔

SUNDRESS SAFETY

Prev — Next

Pairings: bully!satosugu x fem reader

Tags — dubcon! groping, thigh fucking, Implied virginity loss, public sex, size difference, corruption kink, slight choking, multiple orgasms (reader), creampie kinda? Just pussy drunk gojo !!!!!

Work count — 1.9k

Why the fuck are we here again?”

Gojo rolled his eyes despite them being concealed behind his signature jet-black frames. The last thing he wanted to do during summer break was to be dragged into some god forsaken library, the contrast of the cheerful bustling streets outside suddenly shifting into an almost eerie quietude made his skin crawl. He hated how melancholy and deserted the place looked, yet here he was, tapping his foot against the hardwood floor, impatient yet still managing to wait for his best friend to respond.

Suguru just smiled, paying the man no mind as he made his way over to the philosophical department. And Satoru, in defiance of his rapidly growing exasperation, followed behind like second nature.

"Pleeeeaassee Suguru I don't wanna spend all my youth in a dingy place like this" Gojo whined, slinging his arms over Suguru's broad shoulders, all 6ft3 of him dangling there like a toddler. "I'm too pretty to be going through this.

Geto glanced at is watch, unphased. "Twelve minutes in a library won't kill you."

"you don't know that! this place smells like death."

"Satoru"

"old people too, oddly."

"Satoru" Geto repeated, this time tapping him on the hand to grab his attention.

"shut up I'm not letting you go until you-"

"Look."

He groaned as if in actual pain. Shifting his attention farther into the distance.

"Is that-“

"It is.”

“...and you’d think after last time she’d steer clear of libraries”, Gojo muttered under his breath “fuck look at that tiny dress on her”

“still wanna leave?" Geto deried, cracking a grin.

You had your back turned to them, peacefully surveying one of the nearby bookshelves. You looked so adorable prancing around in your awfully short sundress, so blissfully unaware and yet begging to be attended to.

You smiled to yourself once you finally spotted your volume of interest, streching up to your tip toes in an attempt to try and grab it off the tall shelf. But your joy was short lived. The giddy feeling being abruptly ripped from you and replaced by dread, settling into the pit of your stomach when you felt someone grope you from under your dress.

Another shadow towered over you, his hand easily extending and taking the book you'd been trying to reach for. The men were so big they made the bookshelf look small in comparison.

A yelp escaped you when the unknown man fondling you pushed further into you, pinning your front to the bookshelf.

"Hi there, slut." Gojo murmured in your ear, the hair on your nape standing straight in response. It took you a moment but once you looked past the thick veil of your anxiousness and recognized who it was, you visibly relaxed.

"You just crumpled againt the bookshelf sweetheart," he teased, reaching forward to cup your face with one large hand, squishing the fat of ur soft cheeks between his fingers and making you look back at him. Simultainously, the hand that had been slipped under your dress, hooked into the waist band of your panties with devilish intent. "missed me that much huh?"

God were you wrong to be relieved. Gojo and Geto were far worse than just some creepy stranger. It’s not like you’d ever be able to escape the hold they had on you. Just hearing their voice made you weak in the knees for reasons beyond your understanding.

“Love these pretty thighs.” Gojo mumbled into your neck, “so fucking soft.”

He had you placed in his lap, you felt a hot blush creep up to your face everytime someone walked past and inevitably looked your way. Perhaps it was because you were in the company of the two most handsome men they’d ever seen or maybe, just maybe everyone could tell what Gojo was doing to you under the table.

Surely they couldnt tell that he had his cock nestled between your thighs. But just the thought had you trembling. Because he was being so careless, sliding himself against the wet folds of your cunt, his drooling tip occasionally grinding into your sensitive clit. it was too humiliating, too mean. Being used as his little fidget while he waited for Geto to stop browsing and reading, seemingly to no end. Playing with you because he couldn’t stand being bored.

Your breath hitched when you felt his hand wrap around your neck. Manhandling you closer until your back was pressed flush against his chest.

“It’s okay if I fuck you right?”

You were still processing his words when you felt the head of his thick cock poking at your entrance.

“No wait we’ve- we’ve never” you stuttered, panic-stricken. Neither of them had ever taken it this far.

Sure your pussy was the wettest it’d ever been, and the delicious friction from his cock made you feel oddly dizzy, like you were melting in his lap. But that didn’t mean you weren’t scared.

“C’mon, just the tip?” He gave your throat a gentle squeeze, making you gasp. His other hand sliding between your thighs to rub teasing circles against your swollen clit. “promise I’ll be gentle.”

He made you look up at him, tilting your head up by the grasp he still had on your throat. You felt so small under his half-lidded gaze, like you were at his mercy and that too only when and if he felt like it.

“I’m asking nicely aren’t I?”

“B-But” you tried so hard but you couldn't think at all, his touch felt too good to resist.

"She's gonna cum if you keep going." Geto"s voice startled you, like you'd completely forgotten where you were. He gave you a quick glance before returning to his matters. He was right you were too occupied dealing with the various other emotions that were swirling in your hazy mind to notice how the coil that had formed in the pit of your belly grew tighter and hotter by the second. "You're gonna wanna cover that pretty mouth Toru."

You don't know if it were the sudden realization that people were watching, that Geto was watching, his darkened eyes hungry like you'd never seen before, staring right into yours, but it made you snap, an unexpected orgasm crashing down on you.

A moan slipped past your lips before Gojo muffled your sweet little noises into the palm of his hand, the grip around your neck unconciously tightening, only adding to the euphoric feeling.

"fuck, quiet." He chuckled against your ear. "Such a selfish little slut, cuming all by yourself."

You collapsed the second he loosened his hold, your upper half splayed against the table.

"m'not done princess." You whimpered, feeling his tip bully it's way inside you, immediately resorting to begging.

"p-please, you can do what-whatever you want, just not here-please”

"Wrong." he grinned, fully pushing into you in one rough thrust. " fuck, so…tight"

"Sa-toru," you whined, still out of breath. “hurts.”

"shut up, you're the one trying to cut my dick off, stop fucking squeezing so hard." He stilled, whether it was intended to give you time to adjust to his size or not, you were grateful regardless.

Your pleading fell upon deaf ears once he finally started thrusting upwards, your hot gummy insides were wrapping around him so perfectly, clenching and gushing around his cock with every roll of his hips. He was so drunk on you. Already way past caring if he got caught or not.

And it only got worse once the library started getting vacant again. Because it meant he could fuck into you more freely. Could bend and ply you into any and every position his heart desired. And having you over the table seemed to do the trick, his rough pace made the wooden furnishing rattle, like it was at it’s breaking point, much like you were.

“Too b-big! you’re too big,” he couldn’t even hear your pathetic babbling anymore, too focused on chasing his own high “toru-please slow down”

“Ah! toru!” You cried, ”not, sup-supposed to be that-deep” maybe you were right, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, not after endless nights of fisting his cock to obscene thoughts of you. And it didn’t help that he hadn’t seen you in two entire weeks. Every little thing you did set him off. He couldn’t stop even if someone walked in on him fucking you right now. Too mesmerized by how pretty you looked under him, your cheeks flushed and coated with fresh tears, tits bouncing with every thrust. You looked, felt like a dream.

“Hurry it up, it’s almost closing time.” Geto spoke slamming his book down on the table, right next to your face.

“Suguru.” You sniffled., looking at him with your teary, doe eyes “Pl-please”

“Please what, my love?”

“Please- make him stop.”

“Don’t be mean now, he deserves to cum too, right?” He smirked, bending down to place a soft kiss against your swollen lips, followed by one upon your forehead.

“Ah- i can’t. Can’t take anymore.”

“Shut up, it’s your own fault” his movements quickened “walking around in that short little dress, just begging to be fucked.”

You moaned at a particularly rough thrust, couldn’t deny that he was making you feel good no matter the circumstances. You were sure he’d left bruised all along your waist with how hard he was gripping your hips. Your poor body feeling sore already.

“had to stop myself from having you against that bookshelf earlier.”

“Can’t say I disagree.” Geto tuned in, wiping your tears away.

Gojo groaned, looking down at where the two of you were connected, the way you were stretching around his length drove him crazy, and he made sure to have you come undone for the fourth time in the process.

Just a little longer of his erratic rutting and he was spurting thick ropes of his hot cum all over your abused cunt, pressing his tip into your clit while he came. He couldn’t resist pushing back inside to coat your gummy walls too. You looked so pretty all fucked out, your thighs slick with both of your juices. Still panting from your orgasm.

A wave of déjà-vu hit you when they finally helped you up. You could barely stand on your wobbly legs, although they only found that amusing.

“Let’s get you home.” Geto said wrapping an arm around your waist to steady you, “you sure you can walk? don’t want me to carry you to the car, love?”

You definitely weren’t sure, if he wasn’t holding you up right now, you’d immediately be met with the floor. Still you mumbled a quiet yes.

“My, um-“ Geto knew exactly what you were implying because of how your cheeks burned from the sheer embarrassment, you looked so adorable tugging on the hem of your sundress, trying to pull it as far down as it possibly went.

“Your panties?” You nodded, refusing to meet his eyes. Gojo had ripped them off you before you even had a grasp of the situation, having Geto pocket them. You could still see the frilly pink fabric peaking out of the pocket of his pants.

“Weren’t those for me?” He smiled, “it’s already unfair that i didn’t get to have you today.”

You couldn’t argue, instead just turning even redder, thinking about what use he’d have for your dirty underwear.

“Besides, if you’re gonna dress so slutty might as well do it right.” Gojo mocked.

Maybe you should stick to simplistic summer outfits after all, or maybe not.

[lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa]

BULLY SATOSUGU MASTERLIST

< on going series >

FULL LENGTH FICS

Hallway hell — pt. I

Mean & Meaner — pt. II

Sundress Safety — pt. III

ASKS/DABBLES

short dabbles based on your requests & ideas • These are so much fun to do and I’m always looking forward to more • thirsts are always welcome so type away !!

bully!Satosugu taking pics of you

study sessions with bully!Satosugu

bully!Satosugu leaking your pics?

bully!Satosugu if you got a bf

bully!Satosugu reacting to you getting mad at them

bully!Satosugu giving you your first tattoo

bully!Satosugu feeling bad for making you cry :(

bully!Satosugu + sukuna?

[lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa]

𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧!𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐱 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 ♡∘﹏∘♡: 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚎! 𝙶𝚘𝚓𝚘, 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚝𝚊𝚙𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐! 𝙲𝚕𝚒𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢! 𝙵𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜, 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚗 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕.

𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂♡∘﹏∘♡: 𝚂𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚕, 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚜𝚔𝚒𝚛𝚝... 𝙷𝚎'𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

𝙰/��♡∘﹏∘♡: 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚝 𝙶𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚌𝚞𝚖 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚌𝚎... 🫠

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𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧!𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩. 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮... 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲.

𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧!𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜.

𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧!𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐰��𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐭. 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝..

𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧!𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨! 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐫 "𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠? 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭." 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤, 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭. 𝐇𝐞 𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲.

𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧!𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐛𝐞𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐁𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝, 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥. 𝐁𝐞𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐨𝐟𝐟? 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮? 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠.

𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧!𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥. 𝐇𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐲. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡. 𝐇𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞. 𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭, 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐚𝐠, 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞.

𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧!𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞... 𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲. 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐞. 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐈 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐠𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲.

𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧!𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. "𝐩-𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞! '𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮! 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐢-𝐢𝐭!!" 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭? 𝐇𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩... 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩. 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞. "𝐏𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐟'𝐦𝐞...𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭..."

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧!𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐭. 𝐇𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐦 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤, 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐭,

𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧!𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨! 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞. " '𝐓𝐨𝐫𝐮? 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭... 𝐅𝐨𝐫.." 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐱, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝... "𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲... 𝐂'𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞..." 𝐇𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐧. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬. "𝐂-𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐚-" "𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐧𝐨? 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐨?"

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧!𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨, 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧... 𝐇𝐞'𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮... 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞..

[lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa]

Just had an idea of Gojo and Geto being your bullies and they are a menace to your life and one day, they take your phone and find that you listen to erotic audios with very specific themes of degradation and humiliation.

Cut to you being their personal sex toy they use on a daily basis to get off. Putting you in a miniskirt with no panties and recording you as they let you fight a curse by yourself. Spanking your ass and pussy for no reason. Creampieing you and then taking selfies with your stuffed pussy. Leisurly slapping your face with their cocks. Groping you in public. Taking you away to Gojos beach house and just keeping you naked and fucking you 24/7. Always recording your fuck sessions. Geto putting you in costumes. Stuffing you with toys before taking you out to complete a mission. Blurring your face and any noticable features before showing off your nudes to their other classmates, specifically Nanami who can't help but admit that the woman on screen is hot. Making a group chat with the three of you where Gojo and Geto just send pictures and videos of you to each other. Gojo constant taking upskirt photos of you. Geto making sure the coast is clear before lifting your shirt up in the middle on the hallway so he can suck your nipples. Both of them obsessed with eating out your pussy and will hold your still as they take turns, not letting you run away as they force you to cum on their tongues. The three of you cuddling underneath a blanket during a movie night with your classmates and unknown to everyone, their fingers are inside your pussy and ass. Gojo loves spanking your ass while Geto isn't happy until he makes your pussy swollen and red. They don't even greet you anymore, preferring to just come upto you and either spank you or grope you as their way of saying hello. Will steal your panties and will lift your skirt up so you flash strangers. Following you into the showers and washing every inch of your body because "you're to stupid and slutty to do it right." But it's just them touching your tits and the area between your legs.

Just Gojo and Geto being mean and nasty and filthy bullies ❤️ taking full advantage of your shamefull kinks ❤️

[lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa]

✎ . . .❝ COME ON, OPEN WIDE! ❞

— minors dni, dubcon, bully! satosugu x gn! reader, throat/facefucking, pet play (?), humiliation, nicknames (puppy, dog)

“Ya know Satoru’s always wanted a puppy?”

Humiliating. That’s the word branding itself into your mind right now. You’re lucky, as Geto claims, that it’s them getting to have you like this and not some sick perverts. Though you can’t tell the difference.

“Come on, open wide!,” Gojo commands. A wet squelching fills your ears, fingers sink into your cheeks as Geto holds your jaw open. “Tongue out just like that, good dog!”

Cum gushes from Satoru’s length, missing your mouth entirely and staining your face. The weaker spurts shoot onto your bare chest and leak down over your nipples, onto the floor below. Suguru, looming over where you’re kneeled between his legs, pulls your face so you look him in the eyes.

“Your aim sucks.,” he laughs. “It’s everywhere.”

Gojo grins, milking his still-heavy cock over your parted lips until there’s nothing.“That’s just how I like it, baby. Come on, again.”

Your cheeks are squished between Geto’s rough fingers for another round, forcing your mouth open as Gojo pumps his twitching length again. They love demeaning you, humiliating you to knock you off your so-called ‘high horse’, but this has to take the cake. On your knees wearing a collar, custom made Satoru made sure to tell you, and being used as his cumdump. Stuck on your knees while Geto restrains your hands behind your back, slaps your face when he’s tired of holding your jaw open. ‘Such a naughty puppy, why do I have to keep doing this for you?�� when you bite your lips and face away from Satoru’s cock. You can’t even recall how many times Gojo’s nutted on your face, chest, used his dick to smear it over your lips after he got bored of filling your throat. Flashed you shameful pictures of yourself—covered in cum, Geto’s dick on your lips, down your throat, himself balls deep in your mouth. ‘Oh we’re set on wallpapers for a while.’ Geto hums it out like it’s the most normal thing in the world. There’s a puddle of their cum beneath you, and one of your own fluids between your thighs, but they don’t bother dealing with that just yet. Judging from the look on Satoru’s face, and the fact that he’s still rock-hard, you’ve got plenty more rounds to sit through before they even think about indulging your needs.

tagz: @anthoosies

[lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa]

RETURN THE FAVOR? ft. BULLY! SUGURU

— minors dni, throatfucking, blowjob, bully! suguru x fem! reader, exhibitionism, ft. satoru, degradation(slut, cumdump), dubcon, pet names (puppy, good girl, sweetheart ), praise, one mention of photography at the end

wc 1.5k

Most people would be elated if they had twisted an ankle and a strong, kind man offered to carry them out of the goodness of his heart. But you are not most people, and Geto is not a kind man.

“You could look a little more grateful,” he scoffs in that condescending, hushed tone of his, “unless you’d rather walk yourself.”

Geto stops in his tracks, directly a mildly disdainful stare down at you. Snorting, you blink through doe eyes and thick lashes, head shaking in vexation, and you just don’t know how you make Geto’s dick stir in his pants.

You huff, nose wrinkled. “I already said thank you, what else do you want from me?”

“Less attitude, for one.,” Geto nonchalantly replies. “Hmm, and maybe a favor in return? That’s usually what most people offer when someone does something for them.”

A sigh as you glare at him, unamused, and heart rate picking up. “Again, what do you want from me?”

You yelp, arms tightening around his neck as he threatens to drop you, and Geto chuckles at your gape at the concrete path. “Last time I tell you to watch your mouth, or you can find your own way back to your dorm.”

The way your eyes widen at the thought of a difficult, isolated trek back to your room in pitch blackness is cute in Geto’s eyes. Not that he’d make good on that threat, Satoru would probably kill him five times over. But if your naivety kept you in line for now, so be it.

“Fine.,” you relent. “But I don’t know what you want, so please just tell me.”

His eyes wander down to your breast, straining against the woolen sweater clinging to your body, faint nubs poking through from your hardened nipples in the cold. Next, eyeing the quivering downturn of your lips, an idea jumps to the forefront of his mind.

“How about putting that pretty mouth to good use?”

Your jaw goes slack, hands immediately clammy with sweat. You lace and unlace fingers together, eyes never leaving Geto’s steady gaze as you doubt what you just heard. Your suspicions are confirmed when he paces over to a lonely bench along the path, promptly setting you down and shoving his hands in his pockets to take a seat next to you.

“C’mon, now.” Baggy clothes ruffling to break the silence, Geto reclining back to spread his legs for you. “You wanna make it back or not? I have somewhere to be.”

Another lie, just to rush things ahead. You shuffle nervously, glance back and forward between him and the ominous dark path that leads to your dorm building. As if on cue, a sharp pain shoots through your injured ankle, you hesitating once more before sighing in defeat. You maneuver into a more comfortable position, hands kneading over Geto’s muscled thigh, and your tongue flits over your bottom lip in rising anxiety. Dragging the waistband of his sweats down, he utters a ‘good girl’ as his hardening cock is tugged free of it’s confines, standing at attention and only growing larger by the second. Your eyes grow wide in awe at the massive appendage before you. Sure, you’ve seen Geto’s dick before, him impaling you on it whenever he and Gojo so chose to use you for their own needs, but taking it in now, up close…you suddenly yearn for the unhinging jaw of a snake.

He lets out a low groan as you wrap a hand around the base of his cock. It’s stiff and heavy on your palm, dribbling absurd amounts of precum down onto your hand. With one last glance towards Geto, you loll out your tongue, a hiss seeping through his teeth as you kitten lick the fat, red tip. You ignore the saltiness on your tongue as you lick up and around his cock, massaging the bottom with both hands, before extending your jaw to take him into your awaiting mouth.

“Ah, f—fuck,” he rasps out a shaky breath, a hand coming to tangle in your hair and push you down a little further.

A concoction of spit and precum trails down his dick to messily coat your hands, loud, sloppy sounds of him in your mouth filling the empty silence of the vacant campus. For once, you’re glad to be left alone with someone like Geto. The thought of being caught out in the open doing such a thing is mortifying.

You choke, whine a loud ‘hmph!’ as he thrusts up into you, plunging himself deeper into between your lips. The thick, dripping head of his cock nudges at the back of your throat, and you fight to stop the sharp jerks of your body when gagging around him.

“Shit, you feel so good.,” Geto sighs, head thrown back as he trails fingers through your hair. “Fuck, deeper.”

And you oblige, fighting back tears as you greedily suck in more and more of him, bobbing and twisting your head up and down the mass of his length. You edge a hand further into his pants, toying with the heavy weight of his balls and you’re somewhat pleased when that drives a whine out of him. It takes all your willpower not to keep your eyes on Geto for too long, but wow, if he doesn’t look absolutely gorgeous; the nearby pole light casts a soft, golden hue onto his skin, perfectly accentuating his parted lips, the redness crept up to his ears, a light sheen of sweat on his handsome face. Every sneaky glance at him has your pussy growing wetter.

A shock runs through your body at the sound of a piercing tone, and you’re halfway up his cock before Geto’s hand stiffens against the back of your head to keep you in place. He barely casts you a glance before pulling his phone out from his pocket.

“Relax.,” he reassures. “ ‘S nothing, keep going.”

He pushes you back down on his dick before slotting the phone between his shoulder and ear, other hand running down his thigh. You don’t know for sure who he’s talking to, but the familiarity of the conversation leads you to assume it’s Gojo.

Geto sighs. “What are you, my wife? I’ll be there in a bit, jeez.”

He moves to wipe a couple tears from your face, fingers running over the swell of your cheek in a somewhat comforting way. You risk a look up at Geto to find him already staring down at you. There’s traces of annoyance weaved through the pleasure on his face.

“Okay, Satoru, bye.,” he blurts out and hangs up the phone, mumbling,“He talks so much, just told him I’m busy.”

Geto shoves the device back into his pocket, both hands taking place on the side of your head. “Got a party to go to, so I’m afraid I’ll have to make this quick.”

You don’t have a chance to prepare as Geto bucks his hips into your mouth, shoving you down to bury his cock halfway down your throat. You yelp out in shock, squeezing fists around his thighs as he thrusts upwards into your mouth. His head falls back over the end of the bench, messy strands slipping from his hair tie as he abuses your mouth.

Curses quietly spill from Geto’s lips. “F– fuck, love this fucking mouth, ‘m so close.” He cracks open an eye to peer at you, grunting and squealing from the assault of his length and it’s a sight to behold. “Gonna stuff this tight throat with my cum, you want that?”

Your cunt tightens around nothing, dripping and aching for some kind of relief, and you whimper at him in response.

“Yeah, ‘course you do.,” Geto chuckles between groans. “Little slut, you love when Satoru and I fill you up, don’t you? Our little cumdump, always–, fuck, sucking us dr–y like a good girl, huh?”

You can barely hear his desperate rambling over the loud smacks of his pelvis to your face, wet and obscene ‘plap, plap’s, both throat and jaw sore and aching from the needy thrusts of his hips. Geto fucks into your mouth a few times more, before holding your head to the base of his groin, hips shivering and you feel the twitch of his cock before he’s spilling cum down your throat.

“Ahh, fuck…,” Geto groans loudly as he paints your throat with thick ropes of cum, all of which you swallow heartily even if you can’t help it. His arms fall limp to his side, chest heaving as he takes a moment to catch his breath.

You slide his softening cock from the heat of your throat, carefully and quietly tucking him back into his boxers and sweats. Geto watches you massage over your sore throat, and raises a hand to tap at your lips.

“Open wide, sweetheart.,” and you obey without question.

He studies your mouth, thumb on your tongue, and is pleased to see not a single drop of him has been wasted. “Fuck, good slut.”

Geto again pulls his phone out from his pocket, quickly taking a picture of his fingers still in your mouth before roughly patting your cheek. “Gonna show Satoru what a good puppy you were for me.”

[lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa]

Do you think the miya twins would ever "mess around" with their darling at the same time? Ik they usually don't touch her like that unless they have her to themselves. Idk, I think it'd be fun to have the two crazies fighting over her as they have sex.

Oh yeah, totally!

[Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content]

Osamu is gracious, almost lenient. He knows Atsumu needs his alone time with you after a hard day of training, to celebrate his victory, or to just shut him up for a while. Having you bounce on his cock until he's satisfied is sure to knock Atsumu out for a while, as he'll be sleeping like a baby after a good fuck. And, to be honest, Osamu doesn't always want to deal with his brother's whining because you moaned the "wrong" name or because you've been kissing Osamu for too long. He just wants to be concentrating on your and his pleasure, knowing his brother can get off just fine by slamming into you but Osamu likes taking his sweet time. Also, Osamu is fully aware that his presence and extra stimulation could overwhelm you (although he enjoys that).

Regardless, that means he'll be the one to back off 7 out of 10 times, whisking you away after Atsumu is done for some fun in the bathtub and to help clean you up. Or he enjoys the rare time he has alone with you, bending you over the kitchen counter or taking you into the twin's room for somewhere more comfortable. There's also the delayed gratification in listening to your moans coming from the other room while he's cooking, his cock throbbing and waiting for his own chance of release that Osamu so likes. And he really likes being the one to pick up the you in pieces that Atsumu leaves behind, making sure you know he's the one to rely on in this weird relationship.

But there are times it can't be helped. I mean, look at you; how can anyone resist you?!

Surely not those two!

It's mostly when Osamu and you are getting frisky, and Atsumu comes home too early and catches you. He really has no shame, and there will be an unoccupied spot he can squeeze himself into. There's so much excitement in his eyes when he sees you, already hot and heavy, dazed, crying, or otherwise deliciously pleasured, and he can't help himself from asking you if you're enjoying his brother's dick and if you want to feel even better. He'll be so vocal about how pretty you are and how well you are taking Osamu's cock. How you'll be able to fit one more and take Atsumu as well, looking absolutely brilliant like this. If your mouth isn't occupied, Atsumu will make you tell him all about how you're feeling, asking you to say where his brother is making you feel good and apply some more stimulation that Osamu might have missed. Atsumu is always a little rougher with you, but he knows where to twist and pull to make your back arch, and he's the best when it comes to praising and degrading you, depending on what you need at that moment. And he knows. He always knows where you're itching to be touched, and if not, he'll make you tell him, kiss you feverishly when you speak up, and do everything you need him to do.

The twins might nag a bit at each other, but you know better than anyone that their teamwork is dreamwork. If they get together, you'll be drowning in pleasure until you no longer feel like the trapped darling you are. They'll make you feel like you belong. Like you are their lover and as if you want to be their bitch, chasing just one more height. The two of them are as addicting and devastating as drugs, but you'll never find anyone who knows your body better. Who's touch will make you cry from joy and who controls you from your thoughts to your orgasm, allowing you to let go of any worry or fear.

Although more rare, there are also times when Osamu joins you and Atsumu. Interestingly, Atsumu does give out an invitation every time Osamu walks in on you and his brother cock-deep inside you. It might be a jest, but Atsumu is unpredictable and mischievous in that way, and Osamu, too, can't resist his pretty darling, writhing and moaning in front of him, desperately in need of his attention. (It's what he tells himself, at least.) Sometimes, it's enough to watch you and his brother go at it as he jerks himself off, but on the very good days, Osamu will do anything to worship you, putting your pleasure before his, especially after seeing his brother rough you up. Isn't it nice of him to kiss all those bites and scratches? Osamu's hands can be so amazing as they dance across your skin, leaving trails of his touch from one hickey to another that make you gasp while his palms almost seem to burn when they settle. You'll want to nod and confirm any of his questions because you know he'll treat you to mind-breaking stimulation when you do. Of course you'll suck his fingers, push out your tongue for him and let him play with your hair as he rearranges you into new positions, making you feel things even deeper to the point both you and Atsumu are trembling and moaning.

Having the full attention of one twin can be exhausting or quite one-sided. But once you have both, you'll start to forget that you never wanted any of this.

Because in those moments, you'll only want more.

[lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa]

NOW PRESENTING… POPSTAR!GOJO the series.

DO YOU WANT LOVE OR YOU WANT FAME? ARE YOU IN THE GAME?

now who told you sleeping with your client of a popstar, the gojo satoru was a good idea? but there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun when the cameras aren’t rolling. after all, what happens in vegas stays in vegas.

beware. this contains nsfw. intended for audiences eighteen & up! popstar! gojo/modern au, fem! reader, unprotected s*x, exhibitionism, angst, love triangle (lol) and more !! some plots may change. can be read as standalones….or not! not in order

note. hi thank u smm for 6.6k that’s insane!! this is my first (mini) series so it’ll be semi slow updates. inspired off gaga’s 'THE FAME' album. enjoy the show!

DID U HEAR? TORU’S GOIN’ ON WORLD TOUR. SEE WHERE HE’S SHOWIN’ NEAR YOU…

AUSTIN, TX. (7:00 PM) 15 SECONDS OF FAME.

fucking your client wasn’t on your bucket list. the famous popstar 'toru' says he can’t perform because of issues he’s having with his voice. but he finds another way to warm up his vocal cords—it involves being between your legs. 4.2k wc

PHILADELPHIA, PA. (6:30 PM) BAD ROMANCE.

being sandwiched between a popstar and geto, his bassist best friend was almost like a fever dream. what happens when they start fighting over who can make you moan the highest note? sharing is caring right? 5.8k wc

ATLANTA, GA. (9:00 PM) LOVEGAME.

is it love or just a game? after months of being on tour with the popstar, you and him contemplate going exclusive. yet of course, that’s when gojo’s old producer, your ex boyfriend comes back into the picture, mr. toji fushiguro.

MANHATTAN, NY. (7:15 PM) ALEJANDRO.

after an argument regarding gojo’s career, you two take a break and it hurts. you aren’t together, so why should you care? maybe the fame is getting to gojo’s head after all. because you see him get a new assistant the very next day. 4.9k wc

LOS ANGELES, CA. (6:10 PM) POKERFACE.

gojo gets nominated for his fifth grammy. you being his special plus one, he takes you—yet right before he’s prompted to go on stage, he gets a…boner.

LAS VEGAS, NV. (6:40 PM) CLOSING….

JUST DANCE.

under rehearsal, coming soon…

© all rights reserved to SCREAMPIED 2024. do not copy or plagiarize. also lmao i dont own the song choices at all so lady gaga pls don’t sue me (i love you queen!)