#two pretty bestfriends

[lotus-pear]

till's straight asf i would've made out with ivan first

[andromedagarcia]

She walked inside of the room, a blue vision, a harbinger of apocalypse, an ill omen.

Was that what Airi thought of her? Was that what she thought of herself, what she intended to be? She crossed her arms, bit the inside of her cheek, looking at the blonde woman, her husband's lover. They had never spoke before that night, but there had still been a connection between them, of sorts. They had kissed the same lips, caressed the same skin. Andrómeda, without wanting to, picturing someone else's face in her mind, painful parsimony and obligation in every movement of her body. Airi, most likely, passionately, a fire burning inside her that had long been suffocated in the Spanish woman. She could understand that Takeru had become obsessed with her, who wouldn't be?

But, judging by what Airi had said earlier today, her passion had been nothing but an act, not fueled by love, but by something else. Was Takeru not able to tell difference? It made her feel pity, and a certain sadness. That he had never felt a dear, loving hand, and therefore could get lied to so easily.

'You're going to kill him. Our of your own volition? Or are you working for someone?' Better to go straight to the point. It was late at night, most likely they were both tired of pretending, and Takeru wouldn't visit her room, but he might still desire a taste of Airi if he wasn't too drunk... or high. So, masks dropped, thrown to the ground, broken into million pieces. No more intricate dances, no more questions or negotiations. Pure honesty.

'I don't love him.' Andrómeda began. 'But, as with all marriages, is more complicated than that.' How could she put it into words, the fact that some days she felt nauseous at the simple mention of him, and others, they had even laughed together? That, as mean as he was with her, sometimes, he was always sweet to Cass, caring for her like a family member, forgiving her antics and misbehaviours.

'Have you thought about what it would mean for him to die?' Chaos. If she would be pregnant when it happened, it would make her a target. She could run away, look for Aguni's protection, but then... it was complicated, not as simple as pressing a trigger, as slipping a little bit of poison in his drink every single night and hoping there'd be no repercussions. 'I'm not here to convince you not do it. I don't know if I care enough to stop you. I also don't want to know your final decision. But, if you go through it, I need you to guarantee my safety, and that of my siblings.' And my future baby, if it comes to it. No child should pay for whatever mistakes their parents had committed.

'Whatever you do, keep in mind they'll go after you next. Not because they want to, but because they have to. It's the way families work here. And...' Cold chills making their way down her spine. Because now that the idea came to mind, she couldn't possibly shake it off — Aguni wasn't going to stay still if his best friend was murdered. They had too much history between them. They had gone to Hell and back together and it was not unlike him to burn the world to the ground if something of the sort happened, even if they were not on good terms right now. Would he forgive her, if he knew that she was aware of this, and didn't tell him anything?

The night felt oppressive. Airi was sitting on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest, lost in thought. Somehow, the din of the party still rang in her ears, and above the general noise, Andrómeda’s words playing over and over like a twisted version of a broken record. And more than the words themselves, what was troubling Airi was the hurt in Andrómeda’s voice. 

She’d never meant for anyone else to suffer. Just him. He was the only one who owed her pain and should pay in kind. When she’d learned about his apparently loveless marriage, she’d come up with her plan to get close to him, thinking no one else would be affected. Just him. And maybe Airi herself, but she was willing to accept that.

As an undercover agent, Airi was capable of detaching herself from regular empathy to focus on the task at hand. But something in Andrómeda’s eyes made her feel awful, guilty. Did Andrómeda love Hatter? Had Airi come between them? Well, there was no going back now. All she could do was look for her chance to kill him and take it.

What should she choose? Cyanide in his drink, a bullet to the heart, a knife to his throat? For some reason now that she thought about it something sparked in her mind: a voice whispering that maybe she didn’t want to do it at all. And yet, she would do it.

Perhaps she shouldn’t have deviated from the mission, she should have been a nice little detective and limited herself to stealing compromising documents. But she had to choose the path of revenge and now she was leaving a trail of hurt behind her.

And on top of that, she had all but confessed to Andrómeda that her husband would be dead soon. Airi couldn’t explain why, but she knew Andrómeda wouldn’t tell on her. That would raise many questions that not even the wife of a drug cartel kingpin could answer. 

She tried to imagine how that would go: Andrómeda yelling to Hatter that Airi was trying to kill him; Hatter laughing, incredulous, until he wasn’t laughing anymore, then Hatter interrogating Andrómeda to find out what she knew; and finally, Hatter confronting Airi and probably killing her in the process.

Airi shook her head. She wouldn’t let it come to that.

Somewhere, a clock struck twice and Airi noticed her ears were no longer buzzing with the noise from the party. In fact, the room, the mansion felt eerily silent around her. 

Where is he? Airi wondered. With her… or with someone else. 

The knock on her door made Airi look up. For a wild moment Airi thought it was Hatter, but she discarded the idea a mere second later: he never knocked. Airi got up and went to open.

We need to talk. 

Andrómeda was standing just outside, a blue vision. Was she there to talk? Or did she have a weapon concealed in her silk robe? Airi stood aside to let her in and closed the door behind them.

‘Let's talk, then.’

[double--hh]

besties and worsties fr

Izaack is friends with her to get any news worthy info abt the Trojan Horse Project, while Mia gets free cigarettes and criticizes how he mispronounces words while hes live on air :3c

[melodyatlas]

another prompt from @profandomhopper

match/tim with kon-plications lmao, aaaaaahhhhhh i love this!!!

not a real fic, just my ramblings, and heads up that the match/tim is dubcon and there are mentions of potential noncon (sorry if that wasnt the vibes you were going for lajksdhgjkhag)

i'm imagining this being like, an au of when match is pretending to be kon in young justice, and tim is just coming to terms with actually liking kon, and match decides to pursue tim as some fucked up trophy to lord over kon

so match starts to pursue tim and tim can tell that something is /off/ about him. he doesn’t /want/ to look too hard into why something is off, because he /does/ like the attention match is giving him, but there's just no way for him to turn off the detective in him. if something is going on with kon, he needs to find out what it is so he can help.

so it comes to this head where tim realizes that match isn't kon, but he realizes it when hes alone with match and things move too fast for him to get the upper hand- match ends up pinning tim, rutting down against him and muttering little things into his ear about how he knows tim has a thing for kon, how he should just close his eyes and pretend that he’s who tim wants him to be- c'mon, tim, he looks just like kon, after all- and there's this moment of hesitation, where match thinks tim is going to agree, going to just go along with it to get the false memory of being with kon, and maybe tim does briefly consider it, but there's no way match would just /let it all go/ afterwards, no way he wouldn't bring it up to kon and the rest of their team and tim just can't. besides, there has to be some other reason match infiltrated them and- /where is kon/ where has kon been this whole time that match has been here?

so tim knows he has to get away here, can't give in to the little thought in the back of his head saying he could just give himself this one little fantasy- he purposefully relaxes into match grip anyway, pretends he is giving in, lets match kiss him, spreads his legs a little bit to seem more inviting, murmurs something about wanting to /touch/ and match is overconfident enough, and caught up enough in the euphoria of tim's surrender, that he does let tim's wrists go, giving tim the opportunity to drag his hands down match’s chest, keeps him distracted enough to slip one of his hands to the lead lined pouch on his belt, flipping it open to get out his emergency kryptonite

it evens out the playing field a little more, gives tim the element of surprise enough to flip them over and get the upper hand. this one is a good end, where tim keeps the upper hand, contains match, interrogates him about kon and gets back with the team to mount their rescue mission

in this case, i think it would be fun for tim to keep silent about the specifics of what happened between him and match, leaving out anything that wasnt just “i could tell he wasn't kon and we fought”

but after kon is back he goes to match’s cell, supposedly just to make sure he’s properly contained, but rly to rub it in his face that his team knows him well enough they weren’t fooled by match’s ‘inferior imitation’ and match gets all smug and says that no one had a clue, only tim, bc of his poor, pathetic crush, and kind of breaks kons brain. a loop of “tim's crush?? tim's….. crush??? crush?? tim? On me????” and match goes on to brag about how good tim tastes, how good he /feels/, implying a lot more than how far he actually got, and kon kind of loses it, almost breaks into the cell to hit him, barely holds himself back and has to go retreat to his room to Think™ about tim and his supposed crush and /why/ kon felt so terrible at thinking tim and match were together. tries to brush it off as him just being protective of his friend who was assaulted, but realizes there's this other underlying feeling about how even if tim had been an active participant, kon still wouldn't have liked it- eventually he figures his shit out, but it takes… A While. meanwhile hes been weird around tim because of it and it's making tim extra paranoid cause the last time kon was so weird he /wasn't kon/ so tim keeps trying to spend more time with him to make sure he is himself and also to see how he can help him (bc it /is/ him, tim knows).

theres also the potential for a harsher story here, tim not being able to beat match would lead to some,,, ,, rly fun alternatives

[sun-stricken]

GRAY & LUCY HCS !!

intended platonic, but romantic is also *chefs kiss*

when the team first formed they didnt hang out one on one very often; but when they started they just,,, clicked???

they ARE each others ride or dies

They are mutually very protective of one another

theyd rather die than let the other go through something alone

Lucy is the first person to actually realize and take action against juvias harassment

while he knows Lucy can take care of herself, Gray has and will again put a man thrice his size in his place for her

random deep lore drops

dead silence between them , then out of nowhere—

“this reminds me of when i almost went to prison”

“pris-WH— HUH?????”

“oh yeah, dw tho i was framed”

“EXCUSE ME???”

their contacts for each other are impressively humiliating for both of them

* babe, sweetheart, honey (condescending) cunt, bitch, whore (affectionate)

ppl who dont know them think theyre dating

or they hate eachother

which is funny to the ppl who DO know them bc they’re literally two of the only ppl who you fr cant hate

theyre the type to just know each other

they also cant take each other seriously

theyll be on opposite side of the guild and catch one look at each other and deadass can NOT hold in their laughter

also, their drama debriefs are EVERYTHING

Gray is the only one in the team to have a key to Lucys apartment

like an actual, physical key

she went through the trouble of copying one for him even though she knew he could make his own whenever he wants

it was a very important moment in their friendship

Lucy will back him up in a lie on instinct

wont ask questions, just does it

(this has gotten them in trouble multiple times)

if one of them hates someone, the other will also, regardless of reasoning

bonding over mutual hatred is their love language

if one threatens the other they will respond with some variation of “promises, promises”, “kinky”, or “oh, please do”

they love flirting with each other in public

theyre both very pretty and they know it, and they will use it to their advantage

“i need to make someone jealous, be my bf for a couple pics”

“if im gonna do this, we’re gonna really sell it”

(they made fake accounts and backstories that day (and multiple others))

[starkslydia]

STAY AWAY FROM HER! ━━━━ GET AWAY FROM HER!

XAVIER and WEDNESDAY ft. AJAX and ENID

[d4jamso]

Dude the party of stranger things is so pretty what the fuck prettiest friend group in TV of all time wtf!!!

[yosh-foshfish]

two blond babygirls

[itsguccidollface]

Me & Who? 🥺

[bobzora]

yeah femc has some really solid romance routes but i just cannot be assed to care too much because there are some crazy level yuri goings on in this game

[obxsprincess]

Angel blushing and embarassed already? We can't have that now can we? 😉

My good girl, always listening to what I say....

(Fuck Valentine's day baby, I'm doing this every day of every week if pretty girl wants it 😘)

(ALSO JDHDBAKSJI MA GOT ME MOANING FR)

-You know who it is (🪻)

PRETTY GIRL?! GOOD GIRL?!

s-step on me!- I mean whattttt 😵‍💫😵‍💫💞… anything for u

got u moaning?? proof or it didn’t happen-

M’JOKING… I only know how to flirt like a horny ass guy… pls forgive me ma

(pft fuck Valentine’s Day… n fuck me while you at it-)

[momolith]

Crackship time. What are your thoughts on Luo Binghe/Mo Ran?

VERY scary. so much penis

[aquadangerart]

NaruSaku two pretty best friends

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your bestfriend, satoru, sends your cheating boyfriend a rather explicit video of the two of you as revenge.

tags. best friend!gojo satoru x female reader. smut, pwp. dōggy style. dirty talk. crēampie. reader gets called ���pretty, angel, baby’. cheating. consensual fīlming. anon req.

“mmshiit, should’ve fucked you long time ago,” satoru hisses, his hips stuttering against the plump flesh of your ass. he’s unable to stop himself now that he’s got his pretty best friend underneath him—in a sinful position he has only had wet dreams of.

one moment you’re crying because of your cheating boyfriend and the next you’re getting your guts rearranged by your bestfriend who comforted you through it all.

your mascara stains satoru’s pillow, your drool doing the exact same. you’re acting like a total slut for his cock, mewling for him to give you more, to give it to you faster and harder. all of which is caught on tape.

“yeah? want more, baby?” satoru coos as he holds up your phone with one hand. his other one is gripping the side of your hip—keeping your ass perked up so he can continue hitting that right spot inside of your greedy cunt. the white-haired man snickers behind the camera, “c’mon—tell your boyfriend just how much y’ need your best friend’s cock.”

you know satoru’s filming himself hitting it from the back. it’s nasty, but it only serves to excite you. you know your ‘boyfriend’ will be enraged once he receives the erotic video from you. he’s never liked satoru neither, always preventing you two from meeting each other. which was a red flag by itself.

you’ll show that hypocritical bastard.

“need more, ‘toru, please—” you babble, your voice muffled by the pillow. your body jerks with each hard thrust. every move is made with precision, with the intention of pleasuring you until your insides remember the shape of his dick only, “fuckk, ‘tis too big.”

satoru grins smugly. you’re basically admitting that he’s way bigger than that excuse of a man you’re dating. his ego gets a huge boost and it shows when he drives his throbbing cock deeper into your tight cunt.

“awwh, i know, but i bet my sweet girl can take it,” your best friend encourages you through a raspy voice. the fact that he called you his ‘sweet girl’ drives you insane. your pussy squeezes around his cock in response.

satoru’s eyes nearly roll back from the way you’re gripping him. he moves his other hand around your hips until his fingertips find your clitoris. he over stimulates you until you’re crying of pleasure.

you end up clenching around his fat dick even more. it feels like you’re trying to snap his cock in half with how much you’re sucking him in. there’s not a chance of it slipping out of you.

satoru moans loudly without any shame, letting both you and your boyfriend - who’d watch the video later - know how much he enjoys pounding your cunt like it’s actually his; “y’re so fucking tight. you sure your boyfriend’s been fucking you?”

you feel embarrassed by how much you’re enjoying his dirty talk. satoru’s drilling his cock into you so well to the point that you’ve forgotten all about the intimacy you shared with your cheating boyfriend. it was nothing compared to how satoru is treating you right this moment.

the white-haired man continues, still not believing that he’s finally living out his dreams. your body is heaven to him. satoru can’t help but whimper at the feeling your pussy sucking him in so desperately, “feels like your pussy hasn’t had any dick in a good while.”

the way you’re basically screaming into the pillow is enough evidence to confirm that your boyfriend has never fucked you properly at all. that delicious arch of your back, that ass of yours bouncing back on his pelvis in circles. . . satoru just knows it.

you hiccup and try to speak. you know your boyfriend is going to see the video and that only drives you to be more vocal than you already are. you’re going to get revenge and you’re going to make it as painful as possible.

“y-yeah,” you agree with satoru’s words. your words are basically slurred—too cockdrunk to properly talk. you lift your head up for a second to breathe and continue your whiny babbling between moans, “he’s n-never fucked me as well as you—ngh!”

your voice is perfect. everything about you is. satoru isn’t sure if he’ll even last long like this. he wants to claim you as his girl already. he wants to thrust his cum as deep as he can inside of you so you’ll only think of him.

“poor, poor baby,” satoru pouts and rubs your ass gently as he watches it bounce back at him with every thrust. the view is hypnotising. he cannot grasp the fact that your boyfriend fumbled such an amazing girl like you, “it’s okay. i’ll make it up to ya, mhm? i’ll treat you like a real man would.”

you nod and whimper in agreement, which gives satoru the green light. you’re going to be his at the end of this session. he’s going to claim you as his—finally—after all those years.

you feel yourself start to tremble. you feel tingly all over and your moans are getting louder. the curve in satoru’s dick is making your mind go blank. it makes his tip hit the deepest spots inside you, the right spots. you’re desperately searching for that sweet release.

“aht, aht, angel,” satoru clicks his tongue whilst deepening the arch of your back. his fingers trace the shape of your spine, feeling you shiver from the touch as he pounds you silly. “hold it in, yeah? need you to cum for me when i do. wanna fill this cunt to the brim.”

you try to hold on the best you can. after a couple more thrusts, satoru’s breath turns shaky and his noises turn into whimpers—a sign that he’s on the edge, “fuck fuck fuck fuck! baby- ‘m gnna cum!”

you gasp and your body spasms and squirms as you reach your climax at the exact same time. you feel your cunt being flood with spurts of semen. it’s so much—as if satoru’s been storing all of it just for you.

“there there. such a good girl,” satoru sighs and pulls out of you after making sure that you’ve settled down. he takes his dick out as slowly as possible, pointing the camera right at the lewd sight. his entire length is coated with a mixture of your slick and his white cum.

you shiver at the feeling of being left empty. satoru soothes you by pushing his cum back into your pussy with two long fingers. he films the entire process, focusing on your stuffed hole for a few seconds before putting the phone up.

satoru points the back camera at the both of you, getting the entire view of the messy bed. he grins and puts a peace sign up—ending the video with a mocking yet cold smile that’s directed to the man who’s going to be watching this video soon, “should’ve treated her better.”

oh, your boyfriend is going to be fuming. deserved..

[sugoroo]

ʚɞ warnings: fem!reader, reader plays volleyball, masturbation, oral (f receiving), obsessive behaviour, boobjob, penetration (p in v), 18+ minors dni.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who decides you're going to be his the very first time he sees you playing volleyball on the beach with your teammates wearing those pitiful scraps of material that can hardly be classified as a bikini.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who makes sure to pick up any and every extra shift he can just so he can figure out exactly what times you come down to the shore to practise.

pervy lifeguard!gojo whose new favourite pastime is just to sit in his lookout post, barely paying attention to the water to keep an eye on anybody who may be in potential danger — no, lately, his gaze always seems to be fixed squarely upon you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't help but push his sunglasses up to rest in his hair so he can get a clearer view of you as you move around the sand, the way your scantily-clad body moves whenever you jump to hit the ball over the net just hypnotizing the poor man.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to disregard his duties completely to duck into a nearby beach hut when it becomes too much to just watch you, furiously fisting his leaking cock to the delicious mental image of your ass bouncing as you played.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who emerges from the hut looking like an utter mess, snowy locks dishevelled and swimming trunks hanging low on his hips as he stumbles back over to his lookout post. his strange behavior even grants him a few curious look from nearby beachgoers, but he couldn't care less.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who finds his hands clenching into tight fists by his sides when he observes one of the boys from the opposing volleyball team shaking your hand after a match. it's just a sign of mutual respect between players —  he knows that.

but that doesn't mean it irritates him any less.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who finally gathers the confidence to actually approach you later that afternoon while you're packing up your things, idly scratching the back of his undercut while he tries to think of a normal way to start a conversation.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who doesn't have to speak at all in the end, because you say the first words for him, greeting him with that pretty little smile of yours that he's only been able to see from afar up until now and outstretching a hand for him to shake.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't help but let a pleased grin spread across his lips while he returns the gesture, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction rising in his chest that his own touch on your palm has erased that previous guy's.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who falls even harder for you (if that's possible) during the few minutes he talks with you. it's nothing more than a friendly interaction between two regular beachgoers, but to him, it's one of many more to come.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who feels like he could do an embarrassing victory dance on the sand right then and there when you casually mention an upcoming volleyball competition that you'll be playing in. so you want him to be there, huh?

he nonchalantly responds that he might just be able pop by and watch some of it during his break — as if he isn't already planning on completely abandoning his post in favour of spectating the entire match instead.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is so full of excitement during the week leading up to the tournament that he just can't keep quiet about it for even a single second. his poor bestfriend lifeguard!geto is beginning to feel like he's the one with the giant, pathetic crush on you at this point.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who would most likely be fired if his boss was to see him right now, sprawled across a bench and watching you compete at volleyball instead of looking out for drowning children in the waves.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is sporting a not-so-subtle tent in his swimming trunks as he sits there, which he tries in vain to hide by crossing his legs over his lap. i mean, can you really blame him? just look at the way those doughy tits of yours jiggle in that downright sinful bikini top!

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to clench his jaw to stop from snapping various profanities at the nearby beachgoers who have stopped in their tracks just to witness the match — he's not oblivious, he can see them checking you out just as he is.

but it's different when he does it. why? because you're going to be his soon enough. don't they understand that?

pervy lifeguard!gojo who isn't surprised in the slightest when your team easily triumphs over the other. after all, the opposing team doesn't have you on it. and although he knows little to nothing about volleyball, he can easily declare that you must be the best at it.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who would ideally like to run up to you and gush about how well you performed, but due to the very visible... problem in his trunks, ends up darting into the nearest beach hut for the second time this month to relieve himself because of you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is halfway through sloppily jerking his hips up into his closed fist when sunlight suddenly starts to flit through the gap in the door — shit, he was so worked up he forgot to even close it.

rookie mistake, satoru.

pervy lifeguard!gojo whose eyes widen to the size of saucers when he realizes it's you who just walked in through the doorway, shutting it gently behind you. he's about to start furiously apologizing for what you stumbled in on when he notices you don't seem nearly as shocked as you probably should be.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can only watch in stunned silence as you slowly saunter closer to him, your hands hidden behind your back as they easily untie the strings of your bikini top before letting it fall to the floor.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who releases what can only be described as a pornographic moan at the sight of your freed breasts, his neglected cock twitching beneath his hand as he ogles you without shame. if he had any self-awareness left, he might've been embarrassed of the small trickle of drool oozing from his slackened mouth.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who feels his cheeks flush a shade of red brighter than the leaking tip of his bobbing cock when you purr to him... "do you really think i haven't noticed you checking me out for these past few weeks, mr lifeguard?"

pervy lifeguard!gojo who somehow finds himself living out a scenario lewder than the wildest of wet dreams he's had about you, his jittery hips thrusting erratically between your tits as you keep them pressed together for him with your hands.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who reaches what is undoubtably the fastest orgasm of his life, his sunglasses toppling from his head as it falls back in bliss, messy white locks stuck to his forehead with sweat as he releases a series of broken groans and whimpers.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who immediately joins you on your knees once he's come down from his euphoric high, long pink tongue lolling out to lap up every drop of sticky cum he split on your pretty tits, sucking and nipping at every inch of supple skin within reach.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who just can't stop yapping, going on and on about how perfect you are, how you've been on his mind for what feels like forever, how sexy you look when you're hitting around that volleyball.

it seems the only way to actually shut pervy lifeguard!gojo up is to shove his beautiful face between your legs, the only sounds leaving him now being mewls of enjoyment as he mouths at your saccharine taste through your bikini bottoms.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is already too lost in you to properly remove the material keeping him from your pussy, instead lazily yanking it to the side with a single finger so he can dive nose-deep into your sweet cunt like he's been dreaming about doing for weeks.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is just so messy with it, practically making out with your dripping hole as he rapidly delves his tongue in and out, moaning so shamelessly you'd think he was the one getting eaten out and not you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who makes you cum using only his sloppy mouth so many times neither of you even know just how long you've been cooped up in this beach hut where there's a real possibility that someone could walk in at any given moment.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't hold himself back from fucking you anymore — he's waited long enough already, after all. so he's effortlessly manhandling you onto your back as he pushes in, eyes locked onto the sight of your tits still glistening with his saliva and cum from earlier.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who buries his face between the valley of your breasts as he ruts into you like a rabid animal, word after word of slurred praise failing from his lips as he looks up you with those wide, lovestruck cerulean eyes.

god, he's so fucking obsessed with you. getting to finally feel you like this was just the last nail in the coffin.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who somehow cums even harder than his previous climax, the overwhelming sensation of the tight, spongy walls of your cunt pulling him back in over and over again just unravelling his hazy mind with ease.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to psychically stop himself from letting out a choked whisper of 'i love you' as he spills his milky seed right into your womb where his cockhead is lodged, seemingly having enough awareness left to know that it's much too soon for that.

instead, pervy lifeguard!gojo settles for fixing you with a dopy grin so wide that both rows of his glinting pearly whites are on full display, murmuring a cheeky... "what do you say we make this a routine after every competition, pretty baby?"

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

pervy yoga instructor!geto <- PREVIOUS.

pervy electrician!toji -> NEXT.

[webism]

☆ bestfriend!satoru likes seeing you in his clothes a little too much.

it starts with lending you a jacket when you're out late and it gets cold. he laughs at you first, makes fun of the way you shiver, but then his eyes drift and he realises he can see your hardened nipples through your shirt and suddenly he's layering you up in his jacket just to keep his mind from short-circuiting.

but the sight of you in his jacket is no help either, not when you drown in it because he's so damn tall and he's reminded of the difference in size between the two of you and for the first (more like third) time he's wondering what you'd look like beneath him in a mean mating press. how you'd feel shaking under his body weight: like how you're shaking now, but pleasure wracking your body rather than the cold wind.

he tells himself it's fine to have these thoughts. you're his best friend, you spent every waking hour together: it's only natural that his thoughts would eventually drift southwards. he'll snap out of it, he just needs to jerk off and clear his mind.

so he walks you home, and lets you keep the jacket.

but that night, he's in the shower with hot water scalding his skin, eyes squeezed shut as he strokes his cock at an inhuman pace. fucks his fist with anything but you in mind—he thinks about all his past trysts, about whatever porn he's seen lately, about his fucking cursed technique.

and he thinks he has it, he's pumping his cock with crazed strokes in an attempt to cum and clear his mind, but just as that pleasure starts to break into white hot lust, all he sees is you. in nothing but his jacket, wrecked on his cock and begging him for more.

and when he cums, he sees your eyes pleading up at him from where you’d rest on your knees, ready to take his load into your mouth because you crave the taste. He swears he can feel your fingers splayed over his thighs… your tongue tracing the pronounced vein that runs up the underside of his cock… your heated presence in the shower alongside him.

satoru says your name as he cums, and realises he’s wholly fucked and not coming back from this.

so, naturally, gojo plays into it.

the next time you see him is at his place, you come around to spend time with him and talk about the mundane that always seems exciting when spoken in the lilt of your voice. he offers you a drink, pours you a glass of red and promptly spills it over your pretty top—purely accidental, of course.

and he only takes a moment to admire the way the soaked fabric clings to your skin before he’s bolting into action and offering you a shirt of his own.

“it’s like you’re trying to steal my wardrobe, huh? first my jacket… now my shirt… got something to admit to, hm? you like wearing my clothes?”

it’s playful banter, you think, and roll your eyes with a huff as he hands you a shirt that’s oversized even on him. he wants to see you drown in the fabric, covered in him through clothing until he can cover you in another aspect of himself.

you make him look away while you change, though you know it’s an effort wasted because he’s all-seeing or whatever. and when satoru finally gets a look at you in his shirt he knows it’s game over. it’s like he’s left a mark on you, staked him claim not through bite marks or hickies as he usually would, but through the fabric that adorns your skin. his clothes smell like him, look like him, and are being worn by you.

he’s beyond hard, his cock is tenting his pants and he’s almost offended you haven’t yet noticed, because there’s no hiding a boner when you’re his size. you’re sweet enough not to look, even steal a glance out of curiosity—but he isn’t; his eyes are roaming your skin in such a heated way you feel feverish. it’s how he notices the wine that has spilt on your skirt as well.

he could tell you—offer you a pair of his sweats and cum in his own pants as the way they’d hang off your hips—but he doesn’t. instead, your best friend satoru gojo, the man you know like scripture, drops to his knees and takes the hem of your skirt between his fingers.

“what are you doing?” you think he’s cruel for a joke like this, when he looks so good on his knees, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips as if he’s aching for a taste of you. you squeeze your thighs together, groan at the thought of gojos relentless teasing if he realises you’re soaking wet right now. “this isn’t funny.”

“i’m not laughing,” he says, tone flat. “your skirt is stained.”

“oh,” it is, you can see the wine seeping into the fabric.

gojo laughs, his grin sinful. “what? you get all flustered when i’m on my knees? how lewd.”

“shut up,” you try and step backwards, put some space between him and your pulsing heat, but his hands come to grip your thighs, fingers cool as they brush under your skirt and press into your skin. “you’re an asshole, toru.”

“i know,” his fingers creep higher. “i’m sorry.”

“no you’re not.”

“i know,” he parrots. “but you will be.”

“wh—“

in one practiced movement, satoru rips your skirt down and exposes you to him. he has to bunch up the shirt of his you wear with one hand and keep you from running with the other, but he’s met with a beautiful sight as a reward for all his pining.

“for coming to my house with no fucking panties on and acting like you don’t want me to fuck you like we’re more than friends.”

you learnt quickly upon befriending satoru gojo that he always seems to get what he wants. this is no exception, because after he spends so long fucking you with his tongue that his knees go numb against the cold tile, he’s got you laid down on his couch, his t shirt bunched up over your waist just enough for him to watch his cock sink into you over and over and over again.

he loves the sight of you grabbing at the fabric to keep it out of the way— how you whine for him to just let you take it off, all for him to press his lips to yours and conjoin you so you couldn’t undress even if you tried.

how with each thrust of his ravaging cock into you, he’s whining like he’s not the one in control. babbling filth as if he’s not got you pinned and taking every last inch of him—he’s pussy drunk and overbearing in his excitement and slurring his words as he speaks against your open mouth.

“never allowed to wear your own clothes again,” he steals your breath with each gasp he gives between thrusts. “only mine. i’ll burn yours, fuck, i hate your clothes.”

“you…” gojos fast rutting stalls your sentence. “��you brought me that skirt.”

“yeah? well where is it now?”

you recall the lecture you tried to give him when he threw your wine-stained skirt into his trash bin. you’d protest his dictation of what you wear if you had the mind to do so—but his cock is hitting your g spot in tandem with the ministries of his fingers over your clit… you’re half-near brain dead with the way he splits you open and unravels you like the threading of his clothes he’s fucking you in.

you can’t count your orgasms, only feel them shoot static up your spine with each one gojo manages to pull from you. and when he cums, spills over your parted thighs to dress you further in the essence of him, you swear you hear him babble something about putting a ring on your finger some day, to dress you in something of his permanently.

but friends don’t talk like that.

they don’t fuck like this either, though.