#i think I did p good!!! :D | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 18 days ago

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D!LFMAS?!

Synopsis. Father Christmas? Nah, who needs him when you can have a hot D!LFY Christmas.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, older! D!LF! JJK men, bréeding, CREAMP!ES, age gaps, dad bods, manhandIing, cúmplay, chokíng, professor! Geto, GOJO’S POWERS, true form Sukuna, dp, cervíx kíssing, p talking, p slápping, JEALOUSY (Geto), spítting, headIocks, SIZE K!NK, thigh ríding, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Well THIS opened up something I never knew before…

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - White Christmas

“Heh…how cute.” Toji’s scarred lips are puckering up into a coo at just how adorable you looked squirming underneath him like this. “Ya ready for a biiig stretch, ma?”

You’re craning a few uselessly coy smacks against his bulging biceps, ”T-Toooji—” The whines dripping from your salacious lips are just pitiful - and so is that tiny gasp let off when his heavy, blushing tip comes thwacking! down punishingly to make out with your slippery slit. “Stop teasing me…”

“Ohhh?” Dark brows raise at your babbling, “And hah- who was talking to you, my doll?”

He’s curving the fat pad of his thumb down either side of your saturated lips, wrenching out the soppiest slurps. Up, up, up until Toji’s pinching your buttony nub with an oh-so-dramatic sigh - but not targeted at you. No - at down below. “I know, right? Got a hah- real nasty girl.” He’s nodding along languidly, thoroughly in conversation between your trembly thighs. “How m’ I gonna make her a pretty momma if I don’t…teach her a lesson about talkin’ back to elders.”

God, you could almost sob. It’s been hours upon hours now. You had no idea how he still had so much stamina being older than you, but…but did you really want to complain?

Hours since you’d finished your babysitting job and tucked Megumi to bed. Pacing your familiar way up to Toji’s bedroom in a way that was entirely unprofessional.

Hours of being pinned to the satiny mattress with the effortlessly staggering size of Toji, all hefty muscles and washboard abs that he still maintained proudly. Slipping and glissading their sultry way to scratch his fleecy chest hair down your perfectly arched back.

Hours that still had you all desperate. Needy.

Squeezing out a few pearly tears to lacquer the ends of your lashes in a way you knew that Toji was absolutely weak for. “P-please- jus’ want you ngh! a-all—” Rovering down a hand across the lamination of creamy cum that puddled out of your sappy entrance, your trembly digits are absolutely drenched in the overflooded remnants of cum that your gummy walls were topped up from before. “-inside me, Toji.”

And oh was he weak.

Hell, it’s like he’s melting into you from above.

One beefy arm of his branding the curvaceous flex of his biceps around your waist. Rotund curves of his strong knees weakening, smearing further and further apart on the dampened sheets to plug you full with the globular crown of his thick cockhead.

Eyes creasing to widen, Toji’s swiping a thick drag down your buttery walls with a syrupy pop! Followed mercilessly by a sudden slap! down the snug orifice of your sweet, sweet slit.

Your sloppy sounds resonate against the walls sound-proofed especially for you.

“Evil young lady. We should discuss…wh-what do you think, mama?” He’s gruffing out hoarsely at your drooling cunt - and you swear you could hear his baritone lilt a few octaves higher at the sight. You swear you could hear his shatter into a whimper- “Y-you’re fuckin’ lucky, this cunt o’ yours is so hngh- damn persuasive.”

He was so good at making you embarrassed - sinking in solid inch by inch until you were utterly bruised by the sodden French kiss of his smooth tip down your cervix. Hot and hefty. Steamy gumdrops of vicious pre gliding down your throbbing g-spot..

Toji plants your goopy depths with a harsh battering ram. The swollen cylindrical shaft of his rummaging into you so deep - he was so fucking massive. And you think you’d never get used to it.

“Look at you milkin’ a cock you said was heh- too big. M’proud of ya.” He presses a few innocent pecks down the side of your prespired forehead, “But I’m not like those wimpy fuckin’ boys you’ve dated before, ma.”

Fuck. You’re being headlocked with one of his big, beefy arms - jerking your stupidly lolling head up to his. He only got so much stronger with age.

Toji’s spitting out through sexily clenched teeth - through a smile so fucking feral that it makes you pulse. “I’m n-not gonna go ngh- fuckin’ easy on ya jus cos’ you’re a little…cute.” Toji’s foraging for the elastic door to your womb, skimming his palm for that inflationary bump outlined underneath your pretty tummy. “I’m not stopping until we’re givin’ Megs a sweet lil’ sibling.’”

Pap! Pap! Pap! He’s pressurizing his thrusts with years of power, handling you easily like a ragdoll underneath him. Glomping around thick ivory tresses of seed from hours before - the squelches play out like a song to him.

“Ohhh? What’s that? Ya sure?” Toji’s eyes crinkle with sheer joy, shaggy dark bangs sticking to his forehead and showing off stray strands of silver. “Ya hear that? She said she’s gonna give me a daughter.”

He’s driving you wild. Stupid.

“Hmm- nothing to say?” You’re hearing low titters pierce in cloudy little pants against your ear. Intoxicating. And beady droplets of sweat spatter your shoulder as Toji looms dangerously closer. “Listen to this-” SMACK! Another mean swat on your cunt. And a second. A third. Fourth- “Y-you’re still lettin’ his filthy pussy talk for ya? Lazy girl.”

Every heated pound had your pussy slewing out the most sinful squelches and then some. Watery slurps so loud that you’re struggling to mumble out over it, “S-s’not my fault— you’re just so…so…”

“Say it.” Toji’s huffing out.

And the bed raptures with splitting creaks when he’s hiking a powerful thigh to plant firmly on the plushy mattress - gyrating his hips impossibly deeper. Hauling your bawling pussy into his bashing collides against those spots, rubbing your inner walls with his thumping veins. “C’mon, mama, use your big girl words. Aren’tcha embarrassed to be haaah- fucked so dumb by this old man?”

And he already knew that that would be all it took for your tongue to string together its first few coherent syllables. A pitchy little, “N-not- ngh- not my fault you’re so…good.”

The only thing on your mind - the only thing you can chant like a mantra when your orgasm invades you over with surprise.

The very moment those broken sounds taper off from your slack maw, you’re seeing white. Stars bursting behind your lids, when Toji’s ruddied, split tip crashes into your tenderized magical spots. Again. And again. And again and again-

“Good?” Toji echoes. Head tilting to nuzzle yours, he’s snarling his pearly canines into the apples of your cheeks and biting. “A-all that- n’ all ya hafta say is “good”? D-don’t even deserve- this-”

You’re garbling out between each punctuating pound, rivulets of saliva spilling from between your lips. “No- no no no- please inside. I wan’ it- want it all—”

You can’t see him through that clingy glaze of lust in your eyes, but he’s rolling his eyes. Huffing out a growling, “Then you better not ah- waste a single drop. Wan’ everyyyyy ah- leering loser to know who did this.”

You’re being absolutely flooded with the thickly vicious dumps of Toji’s cum - and he always had so much to give. Sweltering hot. Sloshing around voluminous dredges that splatter down your thighs, it’s like a sticky second skin. Lathering his thick fingers in a milky sheen when he’s bullying every leaking ounce back through your bloated pussy lips. Making an even bigger mess-

And the sight only makes Toji grin, “G’nna be a real white Christmas this year, huh? A real sweet one with you, me, Megs…n’ our daughter, heh.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Santa, tell me…

“Gonna take care of you, my love” Nanami’s rich, sugar-coated tone cracks at the very end. And you can only watch as his jostled prescription glasses fog up, as his stern lower lip trembles. Smearing a wet smooch over your glossy folds once more, “Suuuch g-good care of ya.”

And he was parched. It didn’t matter how many copiously innumerable times that he’d had you before, your husband was addicted to making out with your weepy cunt.

Plumped lips illuminated by the cozy crackle of the fireplace in your bedroom. He’s wrapping them snugly around the buttony hood of your overstimulated clit to hollow his cheeks and suck. Boring that greedily half-lidded gaze right up at you with every full French kiss.

Once. Twice. Thrice.

Thick fingers fisting his angrily hard cock and squeezing out a few milky smudges of pre just from tasting his dear wife’s cunt. Nanami’s blocking that seething red divot right at the very end with one of his thumbs to keep himself from cumming-

God.

He really was going to be the end of you.

There’s such a clingy film of your sweet sweet pussy glaze glistening across the handsome lower half of his face. Slipping and sliding wet splotches down your wrist when you’re grabbing your husband by the scruff of his silvery blond locks and dragging him upwards.

Gruffing out a pained keen- “Darlin’, your cute cunt i-isn’t ready yet-”

He was addicted - wanted more.

“I need you, Kento–” Your fingers dabble their way to trek and encircle the broad planes of his sculptured shoulders. Nanami was hot - burning. Condensing out fevered pants as he hung onto your every word. “S’okay if you’re a little…rough.”

And oh. Oh, you were sincerely wrong - you were going to be the death of him.

Because Nanami’s lazily sliding his strawberry pink tongue to lap at the honeyed glaze of your slick on his lips. A few fingers - including the one with that gorgeous golden wedding band of his - drag across your chin to pry out your lolling tongue and suck. Tasting yourself.

“Always so impatient.” he’s tutting, always so careful. So concerned over you, especially since you’d had your two daughters. But Nanami Kento would never say no to his wife - never say no to you. Never has. Never will. “Rough, huh? Y-ya sure you can handle it? Don’t wanna…break you, honey.”

“Y-you won’t–” you’re huffing, trembly thighs enraptured around his soft waist.

The years had done Nanami well, and you couldn’t kick off that comically red Santa coat and hat off of him fast enough - still on after surprising your young kids with it earlier today. You could only gape at the way his hard muscles had tenderized into a dad body that was so plump. So strong. So sexy.

Squealing when his fattened pink head thwacks! right down the treacly middle of your sopping lips. Thumbing in a thick fingerpad until he’s fully and thoroughly inspecting your gooey hole, “Such a cute cunt, g’nna break her with my ah- cock, my love.”

And ah how he secretly loved whenever you’d whine those pretty pleas at him that way. Lips cutely pouted out until he chuckles with a dark, “Haaaah- arch that back a little more f’me, my wife.”

Calloused mountains of his palms massage your perfectly curvaceous spine to help your slobbery pussy swallow down every sopping swab of his globular tip at your gummy insides. Trickling out wet drizzles of intoxicating creamy pre at your doughy cervix.

Oh, this.

This stretch had your mind filled with only cottony buzzing, maw slacking eagerly to beg out needily for more more more-

“Yeahh that’s it- F-fuuuck-” Nanami’s sweat-glistened skin wrinkles as he’s letting his head tumble backwards, glassy eyes sprinting to the very back of his lids. “Yeahh? You’re my b-big girl, right? Mhm- then take- it- like one-”

And shit, you did - you always did. And Nanami thinks he feels himself falling in love all over again.

Planting a purposefully sappy little smack! right on the fleshy peek of your clit to make your knees weaken. It’s so unfairly attractive the way he’s shrugging off the rest of that costume Santa coat to leverage that lecherous little advantage and drag your jittery legs on top of his strong deltoids. “S’gonna m-make it easier. Trust me.”

So powerful. You’re being manhandled like a fucking doll - and treated just like one, too.

Tawny happy trail massaging your oh-so-aqueously driveling slit, Nanami’s round tummy presses into you as he pins you hopelessly down, down, down into such a mean mating press. He’s pressing an innocent kiss to your ankles, pounding in a way so angular that it makes you halfway scream-

THUD!

“Shhhhh shh shh…hush a little, honey.” You’re blinking up through tear-clinged lashes at that attractive dimple cratering its way onto the very edge of your husband’s smile lines. Sweat-glossed forehead bumping sweetly into yours, “You’re gonna wake the ngh- girls up. And right now I…”

He’s trailing off - losing himself and his sanity into the way your mushy walls were swirling all around him. Every sploshing dab of his plumply swollen crownhead cuddling your bruised g-spot. Heavy, cum-filled balls stinging a permanent bruise against the curve of your ass, his massive arms around your legs.

But not just outside. No, Nanami was marking a thick circumference so deep into your spongy cervix - and even the recoil, even every singular bounce back of his rotund shaft away from your gluey depths had him hissing.

“I- I need…”

Fuck, the pure need and fatigue is radiating off of him in desperate waves. Contagious. Your only option is to lock your ankles more vice-like around his slightly overgrown undercut and take it when Nanami streams out a melty wad of spit right onto your tastebuds.

Ah, and then you’re swallowing. Letting him kiss away the translucent splatters of remnants near the corner of your mouth - and ah, Nanami’s so in love.

He’s clasping one set of fingers to design unintelligible I love you’s on your plummy clit, the other intertwining with your left hand to leave a pretty peck right on your matching wedding ring. “-I need you…all to myself right now.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - A++

“Now now, let’s see…question four wrong-”

“Sugu-”

“-question five, only two marks-”

“Sugu–”

“-question six. Skipped.”

“Suguru.”

And oh, how much Professor Geto Suguru was having fun with this.

With you - his favorite TA from the Biology 101 course - and your utterly messy thighs draped over one of his muscular ones, precarious fingers nimbling to clutch onto his pristine vest. Begging, pleading with every bat of your trembly lashes.

You’re glomping his fleshy mounds of skin with your drooling cunt, laminating every bump and muscle with a dripping slide of velveteen slick after every lewd grind. “P-please….sir– jus’ wan’ your cock already.”

Needy.

“How crude.” Geto’s pushing his reading glasses up his regal nose-bridge, pretty pink lips coming up into a snarl that only makes your teary cunt throb even harder. Your own exam papers being flicked onto his office desk in front of him, he’s twiddling his thumbs along the flimsy hem of your skirt. “And for those appalling answers, three more minutes.”

Whining, “But-”

“Did I stutter?” Antique metallic wristwatch so bone-chillingly cold when he’s snugly wrapping his fingers around your tender throat. Tight. Softly bouncing his knee - and you with it, “Can’t even handle ridin’ my thigh - how are ya gonna handle my cock, gorgeous?”

And it might have been three minutes - it might have been hours - until Geto Suguru finally found a correct answer on your tough finals paper. Finally found something he was satisfied with enough to slam! you bent over onto the sleek mahogany of his desk and stuffed stupidly full-

“Tch- look at what a mess you made~” he’s sighing out, breathing hot promises down into your ear in a way that makes your glutinous walls cling like adhesive onto his angry, throbbing shaft to milk him even harder. “Slobberin’ all down my thighs- how are you gonna hah- make up for it, huh?”

“I don’t- I don’t know–” You can barely even think. Jumbling out messily slurring syllables of Geto’s name with every sodden pap! pap! pap!

SMACK!

Geto’s long, merciless digits swat your gulping entrance with a mean smack. Brimming his soft fingertips over the raised imprints, he’s throating out, “What do you know, hm? Anythin’ else in that pretty head of yours other than hah- wearin’ the s-sluttiest skirts possible to my class?”

Oh. That makes you whirl your head up with a guilty whimper, “Wh-what do you- ah!”

He might be hold but Geto wasn’t the least bit nicer.

Surprising you with yet another thwack of his hand on your ass, and a few more copious loads of glossy precum unloaded onto your doughy cervix. “Exactly what I said…” And he’s dragging you down with one roughened hand latched onto your neck, sullying your slobbery pussy with a fat drag down your g-spot. “Those fuckin’ skirts- so tiny and thin. Can see your fucking panties from my d-desk. Tell me- who are ya wearin’ those hah- for.”

Shit - his dewey eyes are dripping over to one right there tattered on the floor.

Gasping, heaving, hunching over to pin your squirming body down hard onto the slippery platform.

Geto Suguru was so big. Pudgy abs skating down your back, slinking you into a trail of soft tufts of black-

“S’it for that ah- loser fuckin’ boy ya s-sit next to?” He’s spitting, tumbling out condensely from his lips. Mature eyes creasing as his gold-rimmed glasses slip. “Or for that flirty fuuuuck- group p-partner of yours…o-or…” And you can only gulp - you can only keen when he’s letharging his vicious hips just enough to keep pressing a hard probe into your mushy g-spot. Holding it still. “-for me, gorgeous?”

Who else would it be for? Professor Geto was the tattooed, unattainable eye-candy of the entire student and teacher population. Well…almost unattainable.

And you make it known - you’re curving your back so malleably into Geto’s hold. Letting his sweat-soaked undershirt drag down your arched spine. Heartbeat pumping like a drumbeat in your ear with every sodden thwack! of his globular cockhead.

Jaw slacking pathetically open to whine, “Y-you—” Shit- how dangerous. Those cutely slutty noises of yours are such a threat that he’s pumping your mouthy orifice with a few ringed fingers, “O-only for you, sir.”

Yeah, real dangerous.

“Well then…” Geto’s forced to take a second - two - to gather his wits, his sheerly melty brain enough to grin a sleazy grin. “-how about I give ya l-little lesson, young lady.” Smack! Smack! Smack! into the goopy soft spots of your cunt. With his free hand, he’s swiping away the slightly grey-streaked locks of long inky hair. Serious. “About how a real man fucks.”

And he’s fucking you like he hated you - like he was trying to meld you into the littering exam documents on the desk that you’d so absolutely flubbed.

“O-oh my god, Suguru—” Your tongue’s lolling out openly, pupils flying in criss-crossed little patterns even he’s hitting your poorly bruised g-spot again. And again. And again and- “Feels s-so good- m’not gonna last long.”

But ah your mistakes on the exam might have been…on purpose - but the way that you’re scrambling your trembly hands down to mindlessly smear your saturated pussy flaps further open - to try and greedily swallow up even more past his hefty hilt - was definitely not.

“Ah ah- none of that.” Geto’s tutting, your hands being swatted away by one of his much larger ones. Staggering fingers plugging your bulging pussy lips with a slowly drawling line from the edge of his thumb. Pulling out - just for a sloppy split-second - to slap his fatly swollen head on your gloopy slit - before bullying your sappy entrance doubly full with both his pulpy length and his swirling digits.

“Move that fuckin’ hand, gorgeous, n’ stop being hahh- shy around ol’ Professor Sugu, hm? If ya want more-” You can’t run away - you can’t even try when he’s hiking up one powerful thigh onto the desk to drag you into every squelching slam! Every rut - you’re reeled in. Deeper and deeper. Strong, dexterous fingers curving to press into your forbidden magic spots. “-then just heh- raise your hand n’ ask. Any questions?”

Glomping out a sweltering hot rope of precum when you actually do - hand trembling, piping up a small, desperate. “Can- can I have it…inside, sir?”

Oh, you’re being positively crushed by his broad planes of muscles. Hot. Feverish. Geto’s only pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “F-for my hngh- valedictorian- of course.”

And when you’re crashing into your high, Geto’s holding you so tight. Riotous hips fucking you through each and every dizzying wave of your orgasm, making you see stars-

“Get ready, girl.” You can hear - but with the black tinging the edges of your vision, you can barely see. “Bet no other boy has f-fucked ya like this, huh?” At your delirious headshakes - shit, do you even realize what you’re doing right now? He was fucking you so dumb. “Gonna cum- gonna fill ya up so hard ‘ntil those wimps know to stay back from…my girl.”

Then you feel like you’re bursting, your elastic walls tugging tautly to their limits when Geto’s pumping out torrential heaps upon heaps of thick, creamy seed. Sloshing around your insides and icing your resinous depths in such murky ribbons of cum.

So much - too much that it’s spilling out from the very brim of your sopping slit.

And Geto only hums at the branded little gashes of his fingers and his watch on your throat - before sinking in his sharp canines for good measure.

Stepping away - carefully - to flip you over and smear your legs shamefully splayed out on the desk. Dripping. Slobbering. He kneels until he’s only inches away-

“Let me teach ya another mmpf- lesson, gorgeous.” And Geto could barely talk with how utterly ravenous he was, deeply gulping in the heavenly musk of your pretty pussy. Tongue slackening. Drooling. “A lesson in h-heh…squirting.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “M-mommy?”

Fuck.

Choso didn’t mean to let that slip out right now - in fact, he wouldn’t ever at all.

Startling those pretty hazel eyes of his, he’s urgently blinking away the last remaining dredges of thorough pussydrunkenness. Sitting up from the sodden, velveteen sheets with your rawly glissading body on top of him in tow.

Pretty coral red lips sagging and stumbling around blindly for words - and not just because your greedy hips were still caressing your melty inner walls with his furiously achy cock. “I-I’m hngh! sorry, baby, I didn’t-”

“Didn’t say I didn’t ah- like it, Cho–” you’re slithering your hands through his damply prespired scalp, and it makes Choso halfway purr. Leaning into your touch with a hiccuping few ruptures of his bawling cockhead into that sweetened spot. Chuckling, “If I’m ‘mommy’, then does that make you hah- my good boy?”

Oh.

And you didn’t expect this.

Didn’t expect the way that Choso’s half-lidded eyes would glaze with a thin veil of delirium, letting those meanly-latched hands around your waist loosen for just a split-second to let your hips bounce back into his. Resonating out a proud smack! when the girthy curve of his pulpy mushroomy tip drills a fat, syrupy smooch against your cervix, “I- d-don’t-”

He can’t even finish his sentence - his string of thoughts.

Because Choso’s sculpted pecs heave once. Twice. Before he’s hiccuping out a strained mantra of your name, pouring out hot, creamy dredges of cum that slick your cushiony channel. Just from that singular word.

Clinging onto your gooey insides like adhesive - hot. Heavy. You can feel the weight of it sloshing vehemently inside you in viscous ribbons when you when Choso folds himself in half and bites down onto the precious nook of your neck.

“Don’t s-say that.” he’s whimpering out, dragging his stupidly lolling tongue out in a lazy lick down the indenting bruise. Before lathering the very same tongue into your mouth in a sloppy kiss, “Makes me…nervous.”

And he was embarrassed - so, so embarrassed to be cumming early.

But oh, the way those ivory rivulets paint creamy rings upon rings around his dark happy trail makes Choso’s mouth coat itself in pathetic drool.

“Awww, no need to be so ngh- shy, baby.” Your fingers tilt his droopy face up towards yours - and just one look into your eyes is enough to make Choso’s handsome cheekbones flush a bright cherub red. A few more treacly globs of seed glomping out and dripping their oozy way down your walls. Teasing, “If you ah- want I could call you daddy-”

“No-” his lower lip juts out in a pout, nose crinkling up oh-so-adorably. And you’re stuck pearing downwards in utter wonderment as his pretty plump lips encircle around one of your hardened nipples and sucks. Batting those long lashes innocently up at you, “B-but you could…make me a daddy.”

And was this really your dearly beloved boyfriend?

Are you sure?

Because he was fucking his powerful hips up into you so nastily, throat cracking with a juggular ah! ah! ah! every time your sugar-coated squelching rang messily in his ears. Your hips were relentless - milking him so good that widely splashing tears were collecting in his eyes-

“D-didn’t think you wanted- ah!” Careening your cockdrunken head backwards when he’s sagging his dazed head on top of your chest, mouth lathering your poor nipples with a silvery coating of saliva. “-a b-baby, Cho—”

But, oh, he did.

He always did - ever since the day he met you, and you’d been such a sweetheart to Yuji. That’s when he knew-

“R-really?” Your whispering voice was barely audible - yet, Choso knows he’ll always be able to pick out your voice anywhere. It’s snapping him out of his reverie, making him realize that he was talking out loud. Shit.

“R-really.” Choso’s nodding - nodding and nodding so much harder with every plunging shovel of his inches down into your gooey cunt. Hiccuping, “Always. Always w-wan’ed to breed my sweet girl’s hngh! nasty pussy.” With every punishing brand of his swabbing cockhead discovering open your cloggy insides. Sheathing himself with sticky peck after peck against the elastic door to your womb. He was so drunk now. “To have our own fuuuuck- babygirl. W-with your eyes n’ my hair a-and- and then a another girl and a boy and-”

God, it was a wonder that Choso was tumbling into his orgasm sooner with just how much he was talking himself insane.

Weighty, condensed pants of air strangling in his chest and suffocating him just as much as he was suffocating himself between your pretty tits.

Moaning - whimpering with every spurt of thickened seed that shoots from his rotund, bawling divot and cobwebs way into the slushy bottom of your pussy. Choso’s swollen, upright curve made it so easy for him to paint every single nook and cranny with a glutinous luster of his cum.

“O-oh– I made a mess, mommy-” It’s spilling out - frosting a slippery vanilla sheen down to the hefty, cylindrical base of Choso’s cock. Soiling the slender few digits that he’s rovering down to your soppingly wet slit, the steaming hot sap so sinful that it only makes Choso suck on your bruised and battered nipples harder. “Wh-why is nothing…”

Ah, he looks so sorrowfully disappointed.

You can’t help but run your fingers through Choso’s sexily tangled bangs, accidentally tugging onto a clingy lock - making him cum. All over again.

Until he was running on mere fumes. Globular head swirling out nothing but a dry orgasm, you’re being spattered with wispy little pearls of his cum that help him slip and slide his still-hard shaft into you.

Humming, “Hahhh- nothing is gonna c-come out yet, baby–” Snickering at Choso’s broken whine, “But you were such a good boy f’me today, y’know?”

He’s gasping eagerly, and that innocently fucked-out expression smeared all over Choso’s face was so lecherous. Practically bawling now - big spherical tears of his cascading when he sighs, “A good boy? Oh, s-so heh…maybe in nine months?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - X(XX)-mas

“What a greedy little thing…” And if this was anyone else they’d have been scared speechless by the rumbling purr of something animalistic in the king’s baritone. They’d have been trembling - and you were, too, but for a much, much different reason. “Look at ya- g-gettin’ fucked stupid by only one cock n’ now you’re begging for ah- both?”

And it shouldn’t be a surprise to you that Ryomen Sukuna was strong - two of his staggeringly beefy arms wrapping around your waist to pick you up and manhandle you down from all fours and into a rude prone bone. “No one in a ah- thousand years has ever even thought of taking ‘em both.”

Though, you certainly wanted to. Which is why even after marriage and already having two sons with him - you were pleading for both.

And, well, after a thousand years - Sukuna himself would start feeling curious, of course. Not that he’d ever admit it.

“S-Sukuna-” you’re lolling your head up a mere few inches off the saliva-lathered royal pillows - as far as it could go in your half-drunken state right now.

“S-S-Sukuna—” Groaning voice tilting oh-so-dramatically a few octaves higher - it only got so much sexier with age - he’s simply bursting into a bout of taunting snickers. “Fine fine. Honestly, fuckin’ filthy- aren’t ya? Dunno why m’so surprised after this is the pussy that made me a daddy…heh. C’mon, beg- beg n’ I might just ah…play nice.”

One of his ruddied cockheads plunges past your saturatedly smearing folds and thumps a fat collision into your poor g-spot. So hard that it has you scrambling blindly for the splintering headboard, whimpering at the heated weight of his other shaft resting down your arched spine. It dollops out a generous, warm helping of puddling precum down your arching spine. Waiting. Wanting.

“M’begging–” you’re gritting your teeth, pout simpering up at him. Exactly the way he liked it.

“Hmmm, can’t hear ya-” Sukuna rolls his devilishly red eyes, a third out of his four hands guiding the sappy divot of his second cock to cling a few ropey wads of pre down your already overfilled slit. Bulging. He’s cupping his ear with another to hear, “Louder, brat.”

“I want-”

SWAT!

Five thick fingers brand their cylindrical markings onto the fleshy mound of your ass, jolting you to spearhead your gummy cunt in feral little grinds. “Please! Kuna-”

And then the next few syllables spilling from your mouth are nothing but sounds of utter disappointment, hiccuping out from your thoroughly slack maw. Because Sukuna is taking his languid time slowing down, wrenching out a few syrupy slurps.

“Easy there, silly girl.” Only for you to feel like you’re being split-apart. To feel like you’re about to explode- a hefty-handed palm smoothing over your gaping mouth, “Shhh, yer g’na wake the heh- kids up.”

You can’t even be mad - you can’t even snap back at Sukuna, because he was giving you everything you wanted.

Bullying in the peached curve of his plump second cock with a sodden wet smack down your sloppy entrance. Pumping in inch by inch with every slight swivel of his shaft - and the stretch was absolute heaven.

Being trapped down underneath Sukuna’s weight - you could choke from the sheer sinful heft of him and you loved it. Muscles upon padded muscles that were softened with the pudge that came with being such a doting dad. Even if he was still in denial about the doting.

Your clingy walls swashing Sukuna’s swollen cocks in a viscous glaze of your sweet, sweet slick. Oozing and riveting down between his rigorous lengths - he was so massive. Tauting out your sung channel until you could feel his every lightning bolted vein down the side massage into your gooey walls. Every cranny, every unimaginable sweet spot being rubbed in a sultry back and forth back and forth back and-

Sukuna’s planting another teasing smack! on your ass with a breathless cackle. In disbelief. Rubbing over the slightly swollen imprint with his overgrown blackened nails, “Atta girl, jus’ a few inches more n’ ya ah- got it.”

A few inches that felt more like a lifetime.

It’s almost never-ending how every new jackhammer into your slobbering cunt had Sukuna supplying centimeters upon centimeters more of his double lengths. The matching fleshy tips streaming out glutinous wads of pre splattered into your cervix every time you took him so well.

So much.

And it was driving him mad.

“Heh, not b-bad for a lil’ human-” Sukuna’s strangling out, a few stray fingers pushing back the pink locks plastering to his sweat-lacquered forehead. “After a thousand years- a-a thousand. This pussy really is made f’me, huh?”

God, the notorious king of curses thinks he might just faint right about now.

Eyes wrinkling in pure bliss at the sodden feeling of your pretty pussy gulping him up, the bulging outline of his own cocks massaging against each other when rummaging your teary orifice.

And all he can think about is you.

You you you with your teeth biting adorably into the silky covers of the decadent royal pillows. Waterfalls of tears blubbering down either side of your cheeks that Sukuna can’t help but free his long tongue to lick in pure savor.

You, with your hips jostling helplessly to and fro into the deafeningly stinging cadence of his strong hips. Years of weathered battle pressurized into fucking you like it was the first time Sukuna ever had.

And in a way it was - you’d never been so spearheaded vigorously open before. Dual battering rams of his stacked shafts plunging into your cervix, your g-spot. Leaving behind branding little swipes of ropey precum. Sukuna can’t help but scour one engulfing hand down - manifesting his second tongue onto that particular palm and dragging down the teary sap drooling from your thoroughly full slit.

You, all round and glowing-

“S-so…” And if you heard the way that Sukuna’s voice shatters into a zillion voicecracks towards the end then you can’t tease him for it. Because the pounds he plants are so punishing. Thorough. Clearing his throat to babble - yes, babble out, “How’d ya feel a-about ah- rulin’ over those scum curses with three heirs. Or maybe four heh…five…or-”

♡ GOJO SATORU - MISTLETOE!

Gojo Satoru would buy you anything and everything.

That pretty designer dress you looked at? Bought and tailored to your exact measurements - at least, it was before ending up in mere tatters. It’s fine, he’ll buy you four new ones, anyway. That expensive hotel you got caught searching up? Already splayed out on the silken sheets of its most decadent suite, Gojo fucking you into that very mattress like he was daring you to make the neighbors file noise complaints.

And that pretty diamond ring? Well.

“So beautiful, s-sweetheart.” Gojo’s voice simpers off in a drawled-out chuckle. Drunken. Pearly white teeth baring in a messy clash of a kiss against your decorated left ring finger. “The ring’s not heh- half bad, either.”

Oh, you looked so pretty and his that Gojo’s fatly plumped-up tip can’t help but butter your puckered hole with a few creamy swipes of pre. Swirling around in a few messily thick circles before pumping you lecherously full once more.

You didn’t even know how he still had the stamina-

“T-Toru—” your fingers embellish angry red marks down his arched back. Dragging his smoothly pale back muscles and leveraging his soft pudgy tummy over yours. “Harder. Hngh- need you in s-so deep.”

“Deeper? Deeper?” He’s breathing - hissing at the gummy cling of your tugging cunt. And Gojo’s brawny arms had only grown more powerful with age, wrangling your thrashing legs up onto his broad-planed shoulders and squeezing you bent into rubbery halves. “My nasty girl, wan’in so badly t-to ngh- lock me down, huh?”

But oh, Gojo Satoru sounded so utterly elated at the idea.

Greedy. Yearning.

Smooching a few pretty pecks at the exact depraved tempo of his sloppy snogs against your cervix.

You could feel his rippling muscles underneath his softened abs, feel the cushiony press of his plush pecs - only grown attractively bigger over the years. The positively slathered meady topping of Gojo’s precum inside you sloshing around torrentially with every pound.

“W-well you’re the one that already ngh- bought me a ring.” You’re huffing out, just as soon as your spellbound tongue can gather together enough coherent syllables. Gliding your fingers through the faint streaks of grey infiltrating his cloudy white, it makes Gojo throw his head back with a pure whine.

“Don’ act like you ah- don’t like it, my girl.” And oh, the pure output of his cursed energy is just right enough that when Gojo smacks! two slender digits down on your clit it makes you sob. “See? This cute cunt s’always so honest with me…how cute.”

“S-such a filthy mouth.” Yet, you’re the one bucking your gyrating hips up more and more to make your saturated cunt speak out syrupy slurps in various high volumes.

And Gojo knows - oh, how he knows.

Because in a split-second, you’re being shut up. You’re having those very same roughened fingertips scour their way between your pouty lips and draw a few messy smears of your sweet, sweet juices down the back of your throat. Making you choke- “Hmmm, n’ yet- you still love this ah- ‘filthy mouth.’”

You’re just about to snap back something that’ll make the pussydrunken older man above you huff and puffy - that is, until your mouth is flooded with something of a gasp.

Eyeing the pretty glittering mistletoe hanging off the mahogany headboard that was decidedly not present just a split-second ago. And you can only batter Gojo with a flash of your narrowed eyes, “Satoru…”

“Whaaat? I didn’t do hahah- anything.”

Yet, you could see the way his eyes wrinkle with amusement and guilty bolts of blue lightning - his powers. Thrumming with every burling sludge against your needy cervix, every tiny mewl that you’re mindlessly letting off with the pulpy slaps of his cum-filled balls against your perked ass. And Gojo’s letting his practised reversed curse energy seep into you overtime when he’s bending down, down, down. Strawberry-pink lips puckering in sugar-coated delight. So amused. “B-but you know what they say…when under the mistletoe…”

And it wasn’t just one kiss - not even two.

“Mistletoe-” he’s whispering, tugging on your spit-slicked lower lip. Then your tongue, “Mistletoe-” Back to stealing your cute lips, swallowing every sinful noise. “Mistletoe…” Along with a bouquet of more and more sweltering kisses curving his left-leaning shaft to maze its way against your puckered g-spot. “M-mistletoe….heh.”

Not until you’re feeling dizzy with the sodden swipe of Gojo’s pinkish tongue, smearing his candied taste as he claims your sweet mouth. Filthy. Not until then does he finally pull apart, smacking away the sticky ropes of spit - only to pry open your drooling maw and dribble a sultry rivulet of saliva.

You can’t do anything but swallow, peering right into Gojo’s matured sapphire gaze-

“H-holy shit…g’nna make me ah- cum early with that-” he’s hissing, snarling. So fucking mighty with each sledgehammering collision into your sensitive g-spot. “Fuckin’ dangerous ya are. M-makin’ even the strongest lose dammit-”

You’re nodding - babbling. “M’also- ah- also…”

“Nuh uh, use those ngh- big girl words if you’re p-playin’ in the big leagues, sweetheart—” Being blessed with another sudden sopping smack! Tinged with only more crackling jujutsu. “I believe in ya. Fuuuck- use that pretty mouth now.”

“M’also- not gonna last.” You’re shrieking out, legs clamoring to tighten with the vicious tempo of Gojo’s cadence. The heat pooling in a tight bubble at your stomach only grows twofold when you hiss, “C-cum inside, Satoru?”

And you sounded so adorable - so whimpery with big, bulbous tears molting at your eyes with every jackhammer. So gorgeous with your dribbling lips parted - on both ends. So very his.

“Heheh- s’alright, sweetheart. S’alright-” he’s grunting into your open mouth, and you could almost taste the saccharine desperation wafting from him. The pure need. “Satoru here’s not gonna hah- miss.” Heavy hand patting the cylindrical outline embedded deep into your tummy, “I have a s-safe spot alllll safe n’ sound here.”

And the last thing you see are those sexy, faint smile lines of his beaming down at you before you cum.

Sparking out pure heavenly white behind your eyelids when you’re crashing into your orgasm so hard that Gojo’s pinning you down with all his bodily weight to drill you through your high. To make you take it.

“W-watch out, my girl-” your cottony ears pick up over that blissful buzz echoing across your empty head. And Gojo’s rams grow sloppy. Oversaturated. “S’gonna be…hngh- a bit of a stretch.”

“A bit” was way underestimating it, almost sinfully so.

Because if you thought that your springy walls were already alcoved to its maximum while all solid inches of Gojo’s cock was being driven into you - then you weren’t ready for the inflationary stretch of his cum.

Thick, spacey wads of his gooey cum that dribbles down your walls. They’re so hot and weighty, sinking your hips up and down, splattering steamy splotches down your inner thighs.

And Gojo’s clasping your jittery ankles behind his fashionable undercut with only one of his hands, holding you trapped so that he can flood invasive wiry ribbons of seed. Have you filled to the brim and dazed-

“Ohhh, I love you- L-look how much.” he’s straining out - veering into the dangerous territory of giggling humorlessly. And you already know it doesn’t bode well for you when Gojo’s landing a massive palm down on top of your pretty lower tummy to push. Making such a mess - but you can’t act like you don’t like the heavenly sight of him spilling out of you.

“So like…h-heh. Wanna make me an actual DILF, sweetheart?”

A/N. Need a DILF to take care of me- I mean WHAT.

Plagiarism not authorized.

9K notes · View notes

gojonanami · 6 months ago

Text

❝ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓 ! ❞

❝ SATORU GOJO KNOWS JUST HOW TO KEEP YOU COOL DURING A HEATWAVE - WITH HIS D!CK !! ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x reader

✧ summary: it’s a heatwave in tokyo and who better to spend it with than satoru, who has an interesting idea of how to pass the time — fucking the heat away.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, porn some plot, best friends to lovers, tiny bit of angst about suguru, inappropriate uses of popsicles, fucking in the heat, ice play, sex (p in v), oral (f!receiving), fingering (f! receiving), cum eating, cum fucking, pussy drunk satoru, implied multiple rounds, fanart by @ / umbra3terna on twt / tumblr (pls go follow htem, they are so talented)

✧ w/c: 7,161

“It’s so fucking hot,”

“Then let’s fuck to cool off.”

What?

You stared at the strongest sorcerer, his face flushed red, heat clinging to his cheeks, white locks blowing in the cool breeze of the fan, his shirt lifted up to cool him or maybe to tempt you, his melting popsicle dripping onto his burning skin — and your eyes flicked to the blue liquid slipping down his abs, then back to his face.

The low buzz of the fan filled the silence between the two of you as you stared at him, “what?” The question slipping from your mind out your lips.

Satoru Gojo had far too many outrageous things leave his mouth — he was insolent, arrogant, and even mildly violent (mostly towards Ijichi) — but you didn’t know if it was him or the heat — but you were considering it.

What the fuck was wrong with you?

(Him. It was him that was wrong with you.)

It was a heatwave in Tokyo. The one rare time you hadn’t been sent away on a mission, and you couldn’t even leave your apartment with the heat warning issued. Not to mention your central air breaks down, with a repairman nowhere in sight.

It was just your luck.

You rub at your eyes — and you weren’t sure if they were burning from your sweat or your lack of sleep last night. You’re blasting your fans around your apartment, stripped down to your shortest shorts and lightest tank top. You’re walking around your kitchen, using a takeout menu to fan yourself as you watch your order drive towards your place. There was no fucking way you were cooking in this weather.

And you see a phone call come through — Gojo Satoru’s name flashing across the top of the screen. You sigh, contemplating ignoring the phone call, but you know he would only call a million times more, and you pick up.

“Why did it take you so long to pick up my phone call?” and you shake your head, placing the call on speaker as you watch your takeout arrive at your place.

“It literally rang twice,” Satoru’s patience had not changed since your time Jujutsu Tech — as you glance at your contact photo, a picture of him dressed in Shoko’s skirt from your school days, with Geto snickering in the background — though a lot of things had.

“Two times too many,” you knew he was pouting.

“Satoru, unless the next words out of your mouth is an offer is to fly me to a place where the weather is better, I’m gonna hang up on you,” you sigh, making your way to the door, opening the door to find Satoru standing there, looking far too stylish in a white t-shirt, his blue shorts hanging low on his waist, and sunglasses perched precariously on his head, your takeout in hand, “what are you doing here?”

“Well I thought you wouldn’t want to take a beach day with me unless I showed up to your place. Ta-da!” he lifts up a duffel bag, seemingly stuffed to the brim.

“Satoru, there’s a weather advisory out. I’m pretty sure all the beaches are closed, and even if you’re immune to heatstroke, I’m not,” you step aside to pull him inside, the humidity sucking the little cool air you have in your apartment, “why did you think going to the beach in this heat was a good idea?”

He shrugs, “An excuse to get out of the house, plus, my apartment’s cooling is out—“

“So you thought even if you couldn’t go to the beach, you could steal my A.C.?” you sigh, collapsing on the couch, “well too bad because mine’s busted too,” you glance over, but your gaze doesn’t find Satoru, seeing his paintbrush head stuck in your freezer, “you’re going to melt—“ he turns around to have a blue popsicle stuck in his mouth and you almost snort at the sight, “bring me one too.”

“What should we do?” you murmur, sticking the popsicle in your mouth, as you laid back on the couch, sucking on the end of it, “watch a movie?”

“It feels too hot to do anything but lay here,” Satoru sighed, the crinkle of his second popsicle white noise as you scroll through possible movie options on your phone, until you toss it away, metal overheating just as you were.

“Well, we have to fucking do something other than just burn,” and you glance over, his white tee rolled up to expose his stomach as he ate his popsicle, and you raise an eyebrow, “what the hell are you doing?”

“What’s it look like? Enjoying my popsicle,” he half mumbles as he continues to suck on the colored ice, “it’s better than it getting on my shirt,” You watch the popsicle drip onto his exposed abs, liquid pooling in the crevices of his toned muscles, you lick at your own popsicle, catching the drops off the melting ice with your tongue, wondering how much sweeter it would taste to lick it off his abs, “see something you like sweetheart?”

His teasing words and wide grin pry you from your reverie with the subtlety of a crowbar, and your cheeks burn, as you roll your eyes, “You’re a dumbass,” you mutter, and he snickers at you, as you avert your gaze from him, and go back to eating your popsicle.

You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on you as you slide the popsicle into your mouth, and you definitely don’t miss the way he eyes you as you suck at the fruity ice, before letting it slip from your lips, leaving only the tip of it pressed against your lips.

“See something you like, Satoru?” and he has no reaction, shamelessly staring still, as he tilts his head.

“I do,” he says without missing a beat, lifting his gaze to meet your own, “are you offering?” and you blink, before looking away — why was everything with Satoru a game of chicken? A bull’s rush to the line the two of you refused to cross, but did everything to pull the other over it. But neither of you had faltered, not in all these years.

Not since the very last summer just like this.

The sun had sunk past the horizon line, the summer night only predicated by the harmony of cicadas and the humidity that still stubbornly clung to the air, despite the sun being long gone. And that’s when Satoru had knocked on your door to tell you — tell you what had happened with Geto.

He was gone. He had left. And he wasn’t coming back.

And why was it that the signs were all there, laid out before you like directions to where he was going — and you didn’t see them, obscured by his empty reassurances and your own selfishness.

You didn’t blame Suguru. Not after everything that had happened with Riko, Haibara, and everything else. But when you saw Satoru before you, despondent and broken — not a single inch of his usual flippant humor present, not a bit of his joy that he always had. But a part of you wanted to blame him — blame him for hurting Satoru, for hurting you, so prolifically.

But you couldn’t blame him all the same.

Satoru had spent the next few nights in your place, even sharing your bed at time, waking up with his long limbs tangled with your own, his face often buried in the crook of your neck, and you could see the evidence of dried tears on his face, despite his best efforts to cover his own tear tracks.

“Do you think I could have stopped him?” he had asked you that night, his head laid in your lap as you flipped through the channels of the shitty TV you had brought from home and refused to replace, “do you think he would have listened?”

“I think Suguru is even more stubborn as you are — because you were stubborn enough not to listen to your best friends,” your fingers cupped the bottom of his chin, “there wasn’t anything you could do — you can’t help someone who wasn’t willing to accept it,”

“I could have made him,” and his skies contained in his eyes were infinite — just as he thought of himself — but he wasn’t. Because unlike the sky, he was human.

“No, you couldn’t have,” you flick his forehead, and he pouts up at you, “and sitting here and wondering what ifs will do nothing for you — except drive you and your very excellent best friend crazy,”

“Lucky for me she loves me even when I drive her crazy,” and you roll your eyes, a smile pulling on your lips, as he stares up at you, your fingers mindlessly tracing the length of his jaw, feeling the quake of his body as he shivered under your touch.

“Very lucky,” and you could feel the pull between your bodies, the ever so slight way you leaned, willing for once to cross that line for him, for you — but he turned on his side, facing the TV instead of you.

“What should we watch?”

And you had promised yourself that night, you wouldn’t let your feelings get in the way of your friendship, you wouldn’t do that to him — because you knew he had already lost too much.

But now—he was the one trying to cross the line.

You stared at him, before scoffing, “Shut up,” but you were too afraid to let him. Your eyes drift back to the TV, leaning back against the couch — it was for the best this way, “think the heat’s getting to you more than you admit,”

“Maybe,” he hums, as you finish your popsicle and sigh, leaning back on the couch again, with a groan.

“It’s so fucking hot,” you sighed, leaning back on the couch, head hanging over the armrest.

And you could feel his gaze on you, undeterred from before, “Then let’s fuck to cool off.”

You almost think you heard him wrong, as you slowly lift your head to look at him. You must have heard him wrong. Satoru was known to make bad jokes or say ridiculous things — but not like this. And you find a smirk across his lips, but the heat in his gaze had not a hint of humor in it — burning hotter than the sun taunting all of Tokyo.

“What?” You don’t know what you want him to say — say that it was a joke, say that you heard him wrong, or just say it again. But your eyes can’t pull away from his, the blue of his eyes pulling you close instead of pushing you away unlike his technique by the same name.

“You heard me, sweetheart,” he tilts his head, biting into his popsicle, letting the tip slip into his mouth, “we could fuck the heat away,” the idea slips so casually from his lips, as if he was recommending a movie or a book, and not fucking you here and now.

“Satoru—“ your voice is chiding, you’re shaking your head, but the couch creaks as he leans forward, the remnants of his popsicle slipping down his abs and through his happy trail and seeping into his shorts, “don’t fuck around—“

“Do you think I’d say that to you of all people just to fuck around?” he raises his eyebrows, and your words flee your mind just as you wish to, but you sit, wondering if this is a literal fever dream from the heat, “you don’t have to think about it so much,”

“Don’t I?” you scoff, shaking your head, as you get to your feet, wiping the sweat from your forehead, “Satoru, why—“

And he’s getting to his feet, wiping the melted popsicle on his stomach with his white shirt, no longer caring as much as he said he did. And you can feel the heat radiate from his body, all consuming just as this heatwave was — clinging to you even as you tried to keep cool, sweat dripping off your flesh like the pleas that left your lips.

“I’ve thought about this for too long, too many times,” he murmurs, fingers brushing against your cheek, featherlight as if you’d break apart under his touch, “we’re sitting in your place — it’s just you and me. You’re asking why, and I’m asking why not?”’

“I don’t want to sleep with you just like that, I can’t. I want it—“ you cut off, but he doesn’t let you turn your head, hand cupping your cheek now.

“You want what, sweetheart?” Your mouth was impossibly dry, the words unable to force their way from your throat, “tell me, please,” and the pleading in his voice breaks you.

“I want it to mean something,” and his gaze softens, as your eyes meet his again, a ghost of a chuckle on his lips, “it’s not funny—“ and he’s daring even closer, a hand sliding down your side.

“It’s funny because you could think I would ever want anything that’s to do with you to be only meaningless,” he murmurs, words fanning your skin, and god it was so fucking hot. Between the temperature, his closeness, and his words, you were sure you’d pass out, “do you know how many times I wanted to do this? So many times during the days and nights we’d spent together, I wanted to just reach over and pull you into a kiss,”

“Then why didn’t you?” your brow furrows, “and why now?”

“Because I’m tired of waiting for a sign, for something in my head to tell me it’s safe, that you won’t disappear,” his thumb rubs back and forth, “just like every good thing in my life,”

“I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with me at this point,” and his lips curl, a breath away, “Toru—“

“Can I kiss you?” and you almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation, but you can’t, the heat so thick it feels as if every molecule of your body was on fire, and the only thing that could quench the flames was his lips. So you just nod wordlessly.

His lips find yours. It was chaste, a brush of his lips against yours, the lingering sweetness of the popsicle dancing on your tongue. It’s too soon that he’s pulling away, your lips mourning the absence of his touch already.

“Feeling cooler?” his words warm your lips, but even so you’re pulling him back into another kiss, lips sliding against his firmly, his fingers tangling in his hair, wanting nothing more than to melt into his grasp.

And you part your lips from his for a moment,” Not at all,” and your eyes flicker to your refrigerator, “but maybe we can cool down.”

“Fuck,” Satoru shivered, and he wasn’t sure if it was your lips against his pulse, or from the drag of the quickly melting popsicle against his burning skin. But neither of those compared to the soft groan ripped from his lips as your tongue dragged up his side, following the sticky, sweet trail of melted ice, mixing with his sweat, “well, am I sweeter than ice cream?”

He’s too sweet.

He’s certainly sweet like this, laid out on your bed for you, his shirt long discarded, his shorts about to join them. Soft pants made his chest rise and fall, slowing and quickening with your touch — his pulse thrumming under your touch.

But he’s also sweet with the way he looks up at you, soft eyes to match his smile, as if he was made to look at you like this. And a part of you wanted to believe he was — even if most of you couldn’t quite believe it.

Your lips curl, humming as you press a wet kiss to his sticky skin, “i don’t know, I need more time to make my final decision,” you lick up the length of the rapidly melting sweet, droplets of sweet sugar water dissolving on your tongue, but you knew it really was nothing compared to the taste of his lips.

But you weren’t going to tell him that.

You take a bite of the popsicle, before leaning down to kiss him, letting the ice melt between your tongues, as his fingers tangled in your locks, and soon enough he’s rolling you onto your back, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs.

And he leans forward, eating the last bit of the popsicle from the stick, “Well it’s my turn to taste now,”

“You can’t even wait your turn for this, huh—“ the last word is a squeal as his fingers slide into the waistband of your shorts, snapping it against your heated skin, flames licking everywhere he touches.

The melted popsicle runs down his muscles, rivulets running down the contours of his body, before dripping onto your burning skin, nipples pulling taut from the sticky sugar. He leans down to tease one nipple, sucking the melted liquid off, before doing the same to the other.

“I’ve waited long enough, sweetheart,” and he’s dragging your shorts off, thighs crying out in relief as the cool air of the fan did it’s job to ebb away the heat ever so slightly, drying the layer of sweat, “I don’t want to wait another minute,”

“So impatient,” you chide teasingly, voice lilting and yet he looks at you with a half lidded gaze, sending a wave of heat right to your core. And the way your thighs press together doesn’t go unnoticed, fingers splayed against the plushness of your thighs, forcing them gently apart. Your cheeks burned, and this time not from the weather, “Toru—“

His cerulean eyes find the wet patch of your panties, a smirk pulling at the corners of his pretty lips, “Don’t think this is sweat, baby,” he teases, fingers skimming over the damp spot, “or should I make sure?”

“Satoru—“ and your chiding is cut off by the sinful press of his fingers to your clothed cunt, his dark eyes lidded as they watch your slick soak through the ruined panties already. And you can’t help the way your hips buck against his hand, “you motherfucker—“

“Funny coming from the one humping my hand,” he grins, and his thumb grinds down against your clit, his other slipping under your ass to knead the soft flesh, “maybe it is sweat and I should just leave you to cool off,” his fingers slipping away, delicious friction that your cunt was already spread open, wet, and willing for—

A whine leaves your throat, an all too pretty noise, “Toru, please, I—“ and his fingers are hooking in the fabric of your panties before ripping them off, quite literally, the sound of tearing fabric making you gape at him, “what the fuck—“

“It’s too hot for these anyway,” Satoru pockets the panties in his shorts, “look at this, you’re burning up,” he stares at your leaking pussy shamelessly — because shame was a word that Satoru Gojo did not know, “and I think I know just what to do to cool you down,” his head leans down, blowing softly at your inner thighs, over the sweat mixed your pre that coated your skin, your folds twitching, just as the corners his lips did, “so needy,”

“You’re the fucking worst,” your words a mutter unfolding into a gasp as he drags a single finger up your leaking folds, gathering your slick on the tip of his index, and then he’s tracing a slow circle around your clit, “Toru,” your words are half pleading, half pouting. It’s so hot, his touch only serving to make you sweat — literally and metaphorically. You were sure your sheets would be ruined after this — and not just from your sweat.

“Lemme savor this, you kept me waiting so long, Princess,” his reverent words pressed against your inner thigh, teasing butterfly kisses that make you squirm, a flick of his sharp tongue that tastes the sweat against your skin, “how’re you this sweet? S’perfect,” his words are seemingly more for him than you, pussy drunk without even taking a single sip.

But not for long.

His nose bumps against your clit, tongue flicking against the seam of your messy cunt, eager fingers pulling the sticky, sweaty skin apart, and your cheeks burn with how exposed you feel—and how self conscious you were.

“M-maybe this isn’t a good idea. I’m really sweaty—“ and the flat of his tongue drags up your sopping pussy, and fuck, good wasn’t enough to describe it.

“Then I better clean my nasty girl up, right?” he cools your sticky skin with another soft puff of air blown between lips glossy with your precum, making you whimper as he pulls away, “one sec, sweetheart, think I need reinforcements,”

The creak of the bed as he scurried off for a moment making you lift your head, an embarrassingly strong ache between your legs making you whine, legs closing, as you bit your lip, “Toru, what the fuck—“

And he’s back, but not empty handed — a glass filled to the brim with ice, a grin on his lips, “ready to cool off, Princess?”

~~~

“A-ah, too cold,” you whine, and Satoru can’t help but disagree it’s far too hot — and it wasn’t the weather. It was you.

You were always hot. You always had been — otherwise how else did you melt his icy demeanor from the moment you met? Too big of a chip on his shoulder from all those years spent at the lonely top of his clan, and you had no problem keeping company up there while kicking off his pedestal.

Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. Gasps pulled from spit soaked lips, chest rising up and down, and your legs spread open just for him. You shivered as he dragged a half melted ice cube along your collarbone, water trailing behind that he was more than dragging his tongue along, the sweetness of your skin mixed with the tang of your sticky sweat.

How had he resisted for so long?

It had been years and years of pining. Of late night spent watching movies, of days spent fighting alongside each other, and even more days spent trying to get home to the other. And all that time, he still had stayed at the same distance.

Because it was safer. It was easier. But he wasn’t know what it was — the heat, patience wearing thin, the fucking sight of your smile even in this fucked world — but he couldn’t stand it anymore.

Not without you by his side.

“Think the ice would beg to differ, sweetheart,” he hums, as he presses a kiss over the pooling ice as it melts right above the swell of your breast, “I’d say it’s much too hot,” your nipples grow hard under his treatment, a hiss leaving your lips, as he sucks the ice water from one nipple while rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger.

“Toru, fuck, please—“ your words cut off with another gasp as he buries his face in the swell of your breasts, licking up the valley, before his lips find your pert nipples, lips closing around, sucking and licking, before nibbling at the skin.

“You always this needy, pretty? Or is it just for me?” his words are said teasingly, but his eyes are just as desperate as yours, fingers dragging down your sides now, “better be just for me,” he mutters more to himself than you, as you gasp, ice cold fingers prying your thighs apart, “heh, what a mess you’ve made,” his fingers skim your dripping cunt, and he lifts his fingers to spread them in front of your face, your pre strung like spider webs between them, “don’t think sweat’s does this, does it?”

And he turns his head, pressing kisses to your thighs, a glorified slip and slide from your sweat and pre alike, but how was it that you still tasted so sweet? A whimper escapes your bitten lips, his breath warming your pussy, a puff of air blowing over your twitching entrance, eyes sliding to the glass of melting ice.

“You put a fucking ice cube in me and I’ll—“ he snorts, but grabs an ice cube all the same.

“Only I belong inside you, baby, nothing else,” and he presses the ice cube to his lips, your eyes hypnotized as you watch him drag it back and forth, until he lets it slip into his lips, melting as he leans down, “now let me cool you off,” he presses his lips to your clit, a short kiss that has him melting all the same.

You jerk. Cold. His lips tingled as his lips enveloped your clit, and his tongue was no better. Fucking freezing, a yelp that he rips from your body, as you can’t help but squirm. But he doesn’t let you get away that easily. Because nothing about the two of you was ever easy.

His fingers press into your hips, arms pinning your body to the mussed sheets of your bed, as his tongue circles your clit, cold ebbing away with each stroke, until he’s lost in the warmth of your pussy.

And Satoru only could wish he set up a camera — so he can watch you again and again with your gaze hazy with lust, tears welling like the condensation on the glass on making your eyes just as glassy, but you stared at him all the same.

So he might as well give you a show.

“Fuck, could live in this tight cunt, you’re gonna be the only sweet thing I drink all summer,” the only summer drink he will settle for — the only thing sweeter than sugar itself — and he only one he wants. His tongue parts your folds, sinking deeper past your entrance, until he’s practically tongue fucking you, face buried in your cunt.

“T-Toru, ngh, too much,” and it was all too much for him — your soft moans, the lewd squelch of your pussy, the tremble of your thighs as he ate you out, and his tongue pulls back a moment, choosing to focus on your clit, as he sinks a cold finger inside, “fuck!”

“Now you’re getting it, Princess,” he coos, and your scowl only lasts a second as his thick finger fucks you open, “gotta make sure I fit don’t I?”

“You’re so fucking full of it—how about less talk and more—“ and he presses his erection against your leg, letting you feel how hard you’ve gotten him, and how fucking much he could cum in his boxers here and now. And you whimper, pussy clenching at the sight of him, “Toru, how will you—how—“

He’s so fucking big.

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart,” and he’s slipping in a second finger, as his tongue laps at your clit, “I’ll make myself fit,” and he would be the only one who would fit, the only one that could fuck your cunt, have his fingers curling deep, the only one making your head loll back against the pillow, “she’ll let me in, fuck you right, make sure I can carve out a nice place for myself — when I fuck every inch of her,”

And his fingers piston into you, surely pruning with how your pre slips down his wrists and the wet sounds of your sloppy cunt grow louder, almost louder than the moans you make.

Almost.

“Said I’m the fucking worst, but it sounds like I’m the best, huh?” and you’re too far lost in the pleasure, nodding your head, as he’s fucked all the logic from your mind — leaving only want behind. And it seems like you both were on the same page now.

It was nasty, the way his tongue took turns lapping at your walls, before teasing them open with his fingers. The way his sweat dripped down his face and mixed with your pre as he glued himself to your pretty pussy — and he was sure he could die of heatstroke with how fucking warm your pussy was.

And he would die happy.

But he knew you were close — with the way your hips were nearly grinding against his face and fingers, spit mixing with pre as he pulled away a moment, continuing to hit every spot that drove you to the edge closer and closer, “G’nna cum already, baby?” His taunting lilt makes you scowl, even with how far gone you were, “s’cute, is it that easy?”

“T-toru, I swear—“ and his lips latch to your clit, sucking hard, right as his fingers find that spot—and he swears your soul leaves your body, your body tenses under his touch, lovely lips falling open with his name on it as you cum.

Well, more like squirt, your release making even more of a mess of yourself, the sheets, and him. It splatters across his face and hands, and he’s groaning, vibrating against your cunt, as he fucks you through your orgasm, sucking and slurping every drop you gave him. And it’s a feat as you absolutely drench his mouth, slick, sweat, and spit, dripping down his jaw.

And he’s a fucking vision, once you get it back, far gone in the pleasure, as he continued to lap at you, until he finally pulls his fingers from you, and your eyes flutter open, chest rising and falling as you watch him lick each one of his digits clean, sliding him into his mouth, “what? Y’know i love my sweets,” his tongue then darts out to clean your slick from his face, before wiping the rest off.

You’re reaching for him, eager fingers finding his shoulder, as you tug him on top of you, before flipping him with ease, so his back hits the mattress. He stares up at you — and god, did he always look at you like this? And how did you never see it — and how would you ever stop?

“Princess—” but you don’t let him protest, lips meeting his, a soft groan as you taste yourself on his lips, palms sliding down his sticky chest, and your lips journey downwards, ghosting down his body. Your lips linger over his raised nipples, tonguing and teasing them, a hint of sweetness that lingers from his popsicle undoubtedly.

“And you said I was sweet, you’re the one covered in melted popsicle,” you mumble, and he smirks, but his reply melts into a groan as the tip of your tongue traces the ridges of his abs, “can’t take it, Toru?”

“F-fuck, can you blame me, sweetheart? Been thinking about this for too long. Wanted nothing more, nothing more than you,” and your lips graze down his happy trail, a sharp inhale as he shudders as your fingers dip into the elastic of his boxers, tugging it down.

He’s perfect — just like every part of him, almost annoyingly so, if you weren’t too busy drooling over it. Swollen tip flushed a deep red, while the rest was a perfect blush pink that you wanted to paint your cheeks with, glossy with precum and sweat, begging to be touched.

And you were more than happy to oblige.

He nearly cums then and there when his cock grazes your cheek, smearing his pearly precum across your face. You turn your head, letting his tip drag over your lips, painting your lips with his pre.

“Shit—“ he sucks air between his teeth, fingers digging into the sheets of the mattress, “not gonna last long at this rate—“

“I’ve barely started, surprised the honored one hasn’t cummed in his boxers yet,” he pouts, before he’s hissing as your lips press teasing kisses to your inner thighs, “can’t handle the heat?” And the tip of your tongue licks at the pubes above his cock, the melted sugar water clinging to the skin there, leaning down to kiss the tip of his cock— “then maybe you shouldn’t have started this—-“

And his fingers sink into your flesh, and now you’re on your back, sweat making you nearly stick to the sheets but you could care less with the sight above you. His cheeks flushed as he looks at down at you, but his lips curled in the same grin he always had, “oh, I’m going to be the one end it,”

“End it? Don’t tell me this is the last I’m seeing of you,” vulnerability creeps back in a moment, and his fingers traces the curve of your cheek and down to your lips — “didn’t take you the type to hit it and quit it,”

And he snorts, “I didn’t take you as the type to know what that means,” but his thumb rubs back and forth across your bottom lip, “but do you think after all this time I could ever quit you?”

His fingers grasp at the base of his weeping cock, groaning as he teases your entrance with his tip, marking you with his precum, your gasp making his dick twitch, as if it’s begging to be inside you. “All of this is for you,” he grunts, guiding your hand to his chest, feeling his heart thus underneath your palm, “it’s always been for you,”

“I’m starting to think you didn’t wanna just fuck the heat away,” and he laughs, his tip kissing your entrance, just as he brushed his lips against yours.

“Well, who said that was the only reason?” And he’s sinking inside you, inch by inch. And there far too many fucking inches. He groans at the sight of your folds, swallowing his cock whole, walls stretching around his length, “look how good you take me — this perfect pussy was made for me, isn’t that right?” and you’re nodding wordlessly, lips parted in a silent moan, as your walls pulled him deeper and deeper, “not g’nna be able to control myself, shit, feels too good, princess,”

“Feels too good to be like this,” you’re panting as the words leave your lips, your eyes glassy with lust — Satoru swears you could look at him, and it would be enough for him to fuck you all over again, “too big, Toru — you gonna fuck me stupid,” and you can feel his dick grow, pushing against your walls as he bottoms out, and you whine in return, “hngh, I wasn’t being serious—”

“So tight,” An almost guttural hiss pulled from the back of his throat, and he’s smug as he looks down at you, mouth fallen open, “I’m always serious about fucking you stupid, sweetheart,” as he lifts your legs, pressing them to your chest, your ankles dangling next to his head, as he kisses the soft skin there, a wicked grin, despite the sweat trickling down his face, “it’s the one time I can be smarter than you,”

He’s torturing you. Torturing you as he grinds his hips roughly against you, the lewd noises of your sloppy cunt and the sticky perspiration between your bodies deafening, yet still won’t give you what you want. More than that, the heat between your bodies was too much — flames engulfed every muscle with every brush of his body against yours, every twitch of his dick inside you, and veins full of fire rather than blood. And you were sure you’d spontaneously combust in this heat, and he’d still fuck you all the same — letting himself be swallowed up by the fire just as well.

Your moan was almost unrecognizable to you, the pleading in your voice bone deep, just as the heat was, “Please, Toru, move,” and he’s grunting, and you know he wants you — has wanted you all these years, and he only smiles at your words, a short laugh on his lips.

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” and his fingers dig into your hips as he begins to fuck you, hard and fast. His balls slap against your skin, the noise ringing in your ears, and your cunt resists every time he pulls out — as if you never want him to go. And he never will. He can’t stand the thought of anyone else seeing you like this — see the way your lips part in moans; the way your eyes glaze over in pleasure; the way sweat drips down your face, running down into the divot between your tits; the way your tight cunt bulges at the sides as you take his dick so well — no, this is a sight just for him, “s’pretty, and all for me,”

You’re already s’close after all the teasing all night, the sounds of his grunts and groans doing nothing to help as his tip rams against your cervix, and you’re sure his dick is fucking places you only dreamed of reaching, but still you can’t help but want more—so much so that the word slips from your mouth.

He laughs, fingers pushing on the slight bulge in your stomach making you gasp, the sweat of his palm mixing with your own that gathered on your stomach, “Even when you’re getting your guts fucked, you want more, sweetheart?” and his fingers rub meanly at your clit, pinching and pulling at the sensitive spot as his tip hits that spot that has your vision blurring again and again, “I’ll give you anything you want, because you’re mine,”

And you’re surprised the bed frame doesn’t break as he begins to slam into you, but it does creak, begging for a break, just as you had begged for this dick. Your eyes water as he rams into you, rutting like a dog in heat, and maybe he was — maybe you both were.

“Toru, Toru, I’m close, s’close, I can’t—“ and you’re so cute, like this, whining and begging for him, for the thing only he can give you — and he’s twitching inside you, and he knows he’s not far behind.

“Cum for me,” he nearly orders, and his words are the thing that makes the ribbon of heat in your cunt snap. Your toes curl, as you cum hard around his cock, walls squeezing and shuddering around him as he only pistons into you harder and deeper, intent on making you feel pleasure in every inch of your body, and he’s shifting your legs, hands helping you wrap them around his waist, as he ruts into you, chasing his own high.

You’re boneless and long gone, as your chest bumps against his as he fucks you, but you still manage to find words to push him over the edge, goad him as you always did, because you know right where to touch (especially now).

“G’nna cum inside me, Toru? Fill me up with your release?” and he swore he lost the ability to breathe, heat and your words stealing the breath from his lungs, as he ruts into you, mix of sweat and sex making his head spin, but not as much as your sweet cunt does.

He’s close, he knows he is, especially when he looks to see the ring of cum and sweat around the base of his cock, and when your fingers thread through his white locks, thumb rubbing against his undercut, to pull him back into a bruising kiss, right as his cock hits your deepest part again—

“Cum for me, Toru,” and he does, uncoiling at your command, spurting thick ropes of cum inside your walls, painting your insides, as he fucks it deeper into you with every roll of his hips. Debauched groans leaving his lips as he murmurs how perfect you are, because you are — even more than he could have ever imagined. His thrusts slow, the sticky sweat and cum drenching both of you and the sheets alike. He pulls himself gently from inside, groaning at the loss of your warmth, but also wondering if your cunt doubled as an oven — the cool air of the fan sliding over his bare skin a relief.

He eases onto your side, pressing sweet kisses all over your face, before you bury it in the crook of his neck for a moment, before pulling away, “You’re all sticky,” you wrinkle your nose, with a whine, and he laughs, a shit eating grin on his lips — more euphoric than sarcastic.

“Well, who’s fault is that?” and you’re pouting, brow furrowed.

“The same guy’s bright idea it was to fuck in the middle of a fucking heatwave,” and he props himself up, the sheets nearly glued to him as he took in the damage, mussed and ruined with the mess of cum, sweat, and spit all over, “you’re buying me new sheets,” and he chuckles, leaning over to peck your lips.

“I’ll buy you a new bed if you ever let me do that again,” and you shake your head, eyes fluttering open and then closed, as he nosed as the column of your neck, completely fascinated with the way your skin was glowing still after all of that, “you just gonna doze off after all of that? Such a nasty girl, we gotta clean up after all that, don’t we?”

“Don’t wanna get up,” and he chuckles, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head, but the touch seems to make you whine, “fuck, but its so hot,”

“And yet I didn’t hear you complaining when I was fucking you,” he tilts your chin up, glazed over eyes fluttering open to meet his, and how was it that your gaze alone was enough to want him to pin you down and fuck you all over again? “Told ya it was a good idea to fuck the heat away,”

“Except when it ends up like this,” and he sighs, the creak of the mattress underneath, as he gets to his feet, “what are you—ah!” he’s lifted you into his arms, sweat soaked bodies sticking together nearly as he carries you through the living room, making a small pit stop to grab two ice cold water bottles, sounds of the TV still floating through the apartment, towards your shower.

“Who said this heatwave was over yet?”

A weather report was playing, a snippet Satoru caught before he shut the door. Reports say the heatwave is going to continue for the rest of the week. Residents are advised to stay inside until things finally cool down!

“You hear that, sweetheart?” as he sets you down, turning on the water of the shower, letting the cold water soak you both, as he loomed over you, pinning you against the shower wall, “guess it’s just you and me for a week,” and he opens the water bottle, taking a sip before pressing his lips to yours, forcing you swallow the water, tongue seeking after it.

His fingers rest below your chin, as his lips ghost over the curve of your jaw and the slope of your neck, before his teeth graze the hollow of your throat, as his fingers sneak down to tease at your aching cunt, sinking in to stuff his cum dripping down your thighs back inside, “lucky I know just how to keep you cool, right?”

✧ a/n: its been super hot here where i live and i'm dying so i want gojo to come fuck the heat away.

✧ taglist: @mysticaltigersorceress, @kentocalls, @biblioth-que, @dreamtardisspace, @augustwinesworld, @totallytatum, @hanxyy, @sxnkuna, @spindyl, @rosiesroseas, @kxouri, @elisaj313-blog, @theelegantpotato, @peppertoastuniverse, @alwaysfreakingout, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @pompompurin-rambles, @catsgomurp, @admirxation, @ninikrumbs, @equanimoushuman, @mysticaltigersorceress, @eightantseatingapplesss, @notgoodforlife, @satowooo, @gojo-gets-me-wetter, @ivypinsss, @fayyyrieee, @hcn-eyes, @designerpvssy, @mua-for-now, @sukunabish, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @suguwife, @forest-fruits-jam, @pinkyvomit, @ranatherealestsigma, @gojosbrat, @megumibrainrot, @pxppygirl