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talkingsperm · 7 months ago

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We Neva Play!

Synopsis. Turns out, the “r” in rivals stands for “really good séx” when a mission becomes a little too hot to handle.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, rivals-to-lovers, séx pollen, innappropríate use of jujutsu (like a LOT), pússydrunk Gojo, limitless, both are teachers, creampíes, oraI (fem), síxty-nine, banter, breaking the bed, FÉRAL Gojo, pússy-slappíng, BRÉEDING, spítting, reader’s CT mentioned, Yaga’s had enough, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.3k (cries)

A/N. Lacked Gojo in the manga so I present to you more Gojo <3

“Gojo, I will kill you before that curse can-”

“Aw, man!‘ Yuji whines over Nobara’s cackles, reluctantly slapping a few thousand yen onto her outstretched palm. He thuds his head frustratedly against the cool vending machine they were crouched behind, “That was rigged!”

The girl scoffs, counting her hard-earned winnings victoriously, “I told you they wouldn’t even make it until the school gates before fighting. It’s not rigged, it’s common sense - not that you’d know anything about it.” Satisfied, she sneaks a look over the side of the machine at the shrinking backs of you and a too-happy Gojo Satoru. “Besides, we’ll get a rematch soon enough. My money’s on her, double or nothin’.”

“You really think they’ll kill each other before the mission is over?” Yuji muses, eyes locked on Gojo’s infamous smirk - only widening the closer he drives you dangerously towards an aneurysm. “I bet-”

“No.” Megumi’s deadpan interruption startles them both. And as much as he’d like to pretend he wasn’t cramped with the two idiots stalking their squabbling teachers, he unfortunately, very much, was. “I bet ten thousand yen they kill each other before the mission is over. Or worse - end up dating.”

---

“A love hotel.”

“A love hotel~” Gojo echoes, with a hand clutching faintly at his chest. Swooning over you with each word, “Now, usually you’d have to take me out to dinner first, but for you I will make an except- mmpf-”

Now, Gojo knew he could’ve easily blocked your attack - hell, he didn’t even have to bat an eye to activate limitless. But where was the fun in that? Giving into your elbow digging sharply into his side, he’s only cackling at your venomous words, “I could take down both you and those special grades, y’know?”

“Oh yeah?” he hooks a long finger underneath his blindfold, showing off that infuriating wiggle of his snowy brows. “If you’re so great, then why did Yaga have you assigned with me, pretty girl?”

You sigh, rubbing your throbbing temples, “Only because someone-” And oh, if he had the most renowned eyes in all of jujutsu, then you had the most withering glare. “-completely skipped out on his last mission to stuff his face with sweets, n’ now I’m wasting my time babysitting. So this time, I’m in charge.”

Ah, a woman after his heart - in more ways than one, for sure.

“Yes, ma’am~”

Dramatically, he mimics the zipping of his lips shut, readily following you towards the flashy building standing out amongst the bustling Tokyo street. Walls painted such a suggestive pink, neon lights flickering special discounts at passersby - it would have almost been scandalous to be caught outside such an obvious love hotel such as this - if it hadn’t been for the mission, that is.

“Didn’t think our first date would be at a love hotel.” he chuckles as soon as you reach the gaudy, perfumed reception. And that flickering, wide-eyed stare of the woman behind the counter is enough for Gojo to prattle on, “Now, tell me what room you want, honey-” Throwing an arm around your shoulder, you’re pressed helplessly against his toned front. “-they’ve got candy-themed, anime-themed- oh, they’ve even got a train station-”

“Best to keep our train station fantasies to ourselves-” You simper, subtly stepping on his foot with your own, but that only topples you against him. Instantly, another strong arm snakes around your waist to support your weight, as if second nature, “-isn’t that right, dear?”

And you swear, you could spot a tiny dimple when the ends of his mouth curl even wider into a saccharine sweet grin. “If my memory serves me right, you were the one that dragged me here. Isn’t that right, dear?”

Shivers run down your spine - ones he runs the soft, rounded pads of his fingers up and down along. You’re sure you looked like a disgustingly loving couple to the poor lady working at the counter. And to put her out of her misery, if anything, you recite, “A-anyways- apologies. Room 143, please.” Managing to plaster on a weak smile, it only falls flat when the receptionist hands you your key - and two complimentary condoms along with it. “I- uh- thank you?”

And it’s all you can do to not just shove off the 6’3 thorn at your side when he steers the two of you to the elevator with a disbelieving, “Only two?”

Though, you’re sure it wouldn’t do much against him, anyway. It never has - because ever since you’d stepped foot through Jujutsu High’s towering gates as its newest teacher, Gojo Satoru seemed to make it his mission in life to get on each and every single one of your nerves. The only mission he’d willingly do, mind you. Insisting on interrupting your classes, hiding you little sweets in your office, pushing your buttons in front of-

“Well, that went as inconspicuous as ever.” Gojo hums, reeling you out of your little reverie. “Of course, it did, thanks to me.”

“‘Inconspicuous’ my ass.” you groan, hastily punching in the ground number for your room. Yaga had said that the veil was already completed around the entirety of the curse-infested floor by now, good - the faster you could get away from Gojo, the more intact your sanity would be. “If it wasn’t for me smoothing things over, she’d be filing a complaint against the sleazy man in a bad Kakashi cosplay at this very moment.”

“Hey! I didn’t see you putting on any Oscar-worthy performances. And my Kakashi cosplay is gre-”

DING!

The elevator doors open to a seemingly normal, barren hallway - not a hair or person out of place - though, you knew better. And as much of a fool as Gojo acted, he did, too.

His steady arm drops from your side when you stretch out your limbs in preparation - shit, you forgot it was still there. “Watch and learn, Gojo.” you hum.

“Hell yeah, I’m watching.”

A beat of silence. Two.

With his thick blindfold, Gojo’s expression was almost indescribable - but your skin prickles with the slow, sultry sweep of his eyes down your figure. But before you can snap back at his loaded tone, it happens- “Don’t fall behind, sweetheart.”

Curses burst out of the fourteen heavy, wooden doors along the narrow corridor - some small, some big, all crushed easily under the power of your cursed technique. And neither of you had to utter a word to know you’d both be trying to best the other.

You’ve got one slobbering mess of a curse trapped underneath your heel, locked in combat when Gojo calls out from somewhere across the hallway. “Still stuck on that grade one?” Your jaw ticks, pressing the curses face deeper into the carpeted floor of the bedroom, “I’ve already located one of two special grades- better keep up.”

Fuck, curse him and his six eyes.

Not wasting any more time, you easily exorcize the remaining curse, feet carrying you door after door. Most of the infestation had been cleared out by now by the both of you, splatters of red and limbs lining along the hallway - you only felt bad for Ichiji having to organize a clean-up after this.

The next time you saw Gojo’s flash of cerulean eyes was from outside another bedroom. Goading, “Heh, need a little help, Gojo?”

“Oh fuck-” he wraps two arms around the special grade’s flowered horns. Powerful legs bowed, cloudy hair mussed, blindfold dangling somewhere around his neck - he was beautiful. And it was fleeting moments like this that you held an ounce of begrudging respect for him. Ripping those offending appendages, “-off. Roughed up the other special grade for ya since you were so slow, sweetheart - consider it a lil’ gift for this date.”

“Oh, fuck you-”

In the midst of it all, Gojo still manages to flutter his long lashes your way, “Well, we are in a love hotel, after all. Just say so if you wanna get those pretty hands on me.”

“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last person on Earth, Gojo Satoru.”

His loud bout of laughter follows you to the final hotel room - 143, coincidentally. It was decadent, almost-spotless - had it not been for the towering curse hunched over in the middle. You could tell that Gojo had been here, because its pink, scale-like skin was already bruised.

You slam the door shut behind you, better to keep the property damage to a minimum. Hastily getting into action - it wasn’t anything new, after years of exorcizing curses you’d grown used to predicting their pattern of attack. But it was only after a pressurized, finalizing punch of yours lands right on the curse’s thumping neck that you find yourself growing weary. Cautious of the tiny, red flower that’d sprouted out of thin air on its skin. Immediately, you think back to Hanami, because it was blossoming - unnaturally fast - petals unraveling to explode in sparkly pollen-

Shit. Your head whirled, eyes watery at the heady scent, “Wh-what the fuck-”

It takes only that split-second of distraction before more blooms pop! pop! pop! all down the curse’s figure. It just heaves with fatigue when they all burst out the same powdery substance from before.

“Fuck- what is this-” your thighs clench together, teeth clenched so hard it hurt. You stagger back towards your opponent, and it seems this last-ditch Hail Mary caused more damage than good. Because the curse was lethargic, barely even flinching when you’re back to pummelling it with your cursed technique. Again. And again and again- “-if only you’d taken to making perfumes- instead-”

It falls to the ground with a last ringing screech, the flowers withering away instantly.

But the damage was done.

And you’d never felt so drained - even after your most difficult of missions. Never sinking down onto your knees this way, skin heated, mouth salivating. The air in the room was just thick with something so delicious - syrupy, with hints of pine and cherry - traitorously, you find yourself inhaling deep, addictive lungfuls of the scent.

“Smells so-” your brows furrow, digging a hand into the plush bed beside you to clamor back onto your feet. “Smells like-”

Gojo.

Your entire body jolts with something so dark - visceral, gasping when you feel your underwear just drench. Mind such a melty mess filled with only Gojo Gojo Gojo - and before you know it, you’re stumbling towards the door-

Bang!

The aroma only grows heavier near the door, blood thunders in your ear at the deafening crash from outside. Shit, had you locked the door-

Bang! Bang! BANG-

Fuck, neither of you were making it out alive.

It’s the first clear thought headlining through your mind for the first time in what feels like ages - only several, syrupy-slow seconds later does it follow up with the realization that you’re now standing face-to-face with Gojo.

Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru.

Who looked absolutely crazed right now - teetering unsteadily on his feet, his head was bowed, fingers trembling. The mahogany hotel door in mere splinters under his hands.

“F-forgot you could teleport?” It comes out a yelp - pained, almost - and the very first note of your strained voice is enough to have his entire, powerful body wracking with a gasp. Goosebumps pricking along his milky skin, he finally - finally raises his eyes.

Shit, he’s finally lost it.

Because Gojo’s gaze was burning, lids hooded, dark pupils blown so wide that his eyes looked almost black. He didn’t look at you with that usual teasing glint, no, he looked like he was going to rip you apart. Twitchy, drinking in a shaky, drawn-out gasp of the scented air. You almost had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade masked as your coworker.

But it’s real - it’s so, so real and you can’t deny it when he’s baring you with such a vicious grin. Plump lips pulled back to show off those glinting canines, “You.”

“Satoru.”

His lips are on yours - pressing and pressing so hard you were sure it bruised. But fuck- you’re kissing back - because how could you not? The candied seam of his mouth was addictive, breathing you in like his last breath of fresh air.

“Kiss me-” he spits into your slack mouth, as if he wasn’t already. Two hands surging forwards to cup your cheeks even deeper, “Kiss me kiss me kiss- fuck-” That last little swear almost comes out as a whimper, and you can only keen when Gojo wraps his pretty lips around your tongue, sucking lewdly. “Y’smell so sweet- taste so sweet-”

“Sa-t-toru-” you’re managing out. It just then hits you how weak your knees have gotten, sinking down to straddle his muscular, jutted-out thigh. It makes him throw his head back when you’re just dragging your hips in a long, languid stripe. “Look what you’ve- what you’ve gotten us into.”

Pulling away to lick lazily up, up, up your neck, his teeth bite just at your thundering pulse. “Me?” he hisses out, voice a few octaves higher than usual. “You think I’m the one fuckin’ responsible for this?” It almost hurt - but it hurt so good. “I’m responsible for this-” And his startling eyes sink down to the darkening wet patch on the middle of his leg, your flimsy panties sticking to his uniform. “-am, I?”

“Yes.” your defiant fingers are trailing down the hem of his shirt, ripping apart those buttons in hasty, urgent tugs until it was off completely. “If only you hadn’t half-assed it with this special grade then-”

Gojo huffs out in humorless laughter into your lips - the same one he’d give a persistent little curse, and it makes your hairs stand on end. Wondering how high the kill count would really be. In the hundreds? Thousands? “I thought you were supposed to be the babysitter, huh?”

Millions.

“And aren’t you the strongest?” A trembly hand of yours ventures its way down his flexing body - down, past those plush pecs, past his flinching abs, dipping teasingly just above where you could feel the hiking tent in his tight pants. “How did you end up this hah- bad?”

You’re holding back a groan at the long, solid inches straining to break free of his thick fabric, you could feel the rapid thump! thump! thump! of his throbbing length under your palm. Fuck, water was wet - Gojo Satoru, unfortunately, had a big di-

“You.”

It’s low, ragged - so quiet that for a second you think you almost imagine it.

“You.”

His lips are sagging open once more, greedy gaze widening - and you knew it was glowing now. Tiny flickers of blue lightning flickering at the ends of his eyes with every mindless gyration of your palm down his bulging, clothed shaft.

“It’s all because of you.”

Yeah, you would be lucky number one on his kill count when he breaks - or maybe he would be on yours

Your back is hitting the mattress, and the buttons of your poor uniform are hitting the velvety floor - absolutely nothing against the strongest, who was now tearing through your clothes the same way he was ripping apart those curses from before.

Shit- did he teleport you two?

“Don’t know-” Gojo pants out feverishly, and at that moment you weren’t sure if you’d simply babbled your thinking out loud or whether he could read your mind. “Don’t- don’t know- fuuck.” Low, feral groans crack at the back of his throat with each inch of your exposed skin, and before you know it, he’s surging forwards into the naked valley of your breasts. Breathing you in so filthily, “Just know that I need you- fuck m’gonna fuckin’ kill someone if I don’t-”

Each spat out little word is punctuated with an intoxicated push and pull of Gojo’s hips. Angrily rutting in-between your thighs until it was just a clingy, syrupy mess of slick and precum between you two.

“Oh-” your lips drop into a soft gasp, reaching out your fingers to smear a sinful sheen down them. It glosses all the way to your wrist with each newly beaded wave of his precum.

It feels so dirty the way you’re pushing the very tips of your fingers into your mouth. Gojo can only look - can barely even breathe when you slur, “You taste so good, too, Toru.”

Oh, that was it.

Gojo Satoru had finally thought he was getting control of his sanity - he finally thought the effects of that cursed technique were wearing off. But now - at that little nickname - he feels something snap. The lamp on your right bedside table shatters.

And usually, Gojo’s taunting was tinted with a little laugh, an inkling of fondness in them - but right now they sounded pained. Wrenching out of his broad chest, “Fuck you. Need you- do you know what you’ve done.”

Your useless skirt - along with your soaked, see-through panties - are ripped off of your squirming body. And for once in his life, he’s speechless - eyes almost bulging out of his skull, nails digging into the plush of your thighs.

Your clothes end up in a pile of sad tatters on the floor, and you felt a strange inkling that maybe you’d end up much the same.

Smack!

Two, large fingers slap down harshly right on your drooling cunt, slobbering down a glistening coat of your pretty juices down his wrist. “Pay attention.” He’s pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your neglected nipples, your stomach, down, down, down in a flurry until the very tip of Gojo’s nose was nudging at your pulsing clit. “Because if m’losing control I need you to stop me.”

The dim hotel lights flicker when Gojo meets your cunt in a sultry, self-indulgent kiss. And through it all, one thing burns into your dizzy mind - his eyes. Maddened, gleaming with slight blue cursed energy in-between your legs.

“Oh.” you’re gasping at the sheer burning stretch of your thighs being pushed to their limits. Gojo didn’t need that much space - he just loved the way you whined. “You’re s-so much better when you shut- hah!”

His tongue shuts you up by flicking harshly over your puffed-up clit, letting your syrupy juices slide their slow way down his eager tongue. “There we go- good girl, good fuckin’ girl. Hah- all it took was some shitty curse to get you hah- honest like this f’me, huh?”

“Don’t act like- ngh!” you’re barely able to drawl the words out, which makes him grin a dangerously content grin. Sharp teeth clenching teasingly around your angry clit, throbbing and slicked glisteningly with his spit, “Don’t act like I’m the only one- this way- hah-”

It was true - every hollowed-out suck on your needy clit had him grinding onto the mussed-up mattress. Those silken sheets hiking up with every drag of Gojo’s weepy erection down onto the bed - imagining you underneath him. It wasn’t enough - it never will be.

That realization was enough for him to break out into a drunken grin, hot tongue smearing open your folds over and over- “Yeah? What about it? Does it scare you that I want to fuckin’ break you, sweetheart?”

He was crazed.

Dangerous. Depraved.

“N-no-” you give such a harsh pull on his soft strands, he’s leering up at you with a dragged-out groan. Looking for the life of him so used - you just knew there’d be thousands that would kill to see the strongest so fucked-out, ear blearily blinking open, flushed your favorite shade of pink up to his cheekbones, mouth chasing those thin spit strands to your glossy pussy. “Jus’ think s’unfair how I’m the ah- only one havin’ fun right now.”

You’re shutting up his pussydrunk protests about how he is having fun and to “please, please, please don’t stop” by crashing your soft lips against Gojo’s. Wrenching him upwards, he lets himself be so used.

“Need you-” you’re gasping, biting into his pouty lower lip. Nosing slowly up his bobbing Adam’s apple, you gasp in that heady combination of pine and candied cherry. “Wanna see if you hngh- taste as good as you smell right now.”

“No fuck- fuck you.” he hisses, wrangling you to straddle his angrily fidgeting hips.

Running a hand down to fumble with his metallic belt - already loosened. But you don’t have the patience - or the sanity - for that right now, because you’re tugging, shredding. The tell-tale buzz of jujutsu fizzing at your fingertips when you tug down the entirety of Gojo’s pants. Kneading the soft peaks of your palm over that sensitive divot on his head, “Who’s fucking who?”

“Me.” And there’s another smack! to the heated place of your cunt, Gojo’s own fingertips having you see stars with his power.

He takes the distraction to just drag you upwards like some ragdoll, easily maneuvering you around. “Turn- turn around f’me- thaaat’s right, fuck-” You’re jostled until your shaky thighs straddle either side of his head, puffed-out pants condensing hotly against your cunt. Your own coming face-to-face with the fat head peeking out from the hem of Gojo’s boxers. Head swimming with how angrily pink he looked, already winking with a drenched sheen of precum up at you. “Arch that cute back a lil’ more- lemme see.”

You’re whirling your head over your shoulders to catch the fucked-out grin on his lips, dragging his tongue out to lap up every bead of your sweet sweet juices, he tilts his pliant head back against the pillows to let it slide down his bobbing throat. “Y-you’re really that pussydr- hngh!”

Another branding smack! leaves you gushing even more down his tongue. “Yeah, s’what I fuckin’ thought.” he spits out a thick wad of spit into your messy cunt. Gliding his wet fingers over the dripping mess that puddles onto the his chest below. “-can’t even run your mouth- so desperate f’me. Taste so good-” Using his inhuman strength to haul you down onto his pretty face.

Before he knows it, he’s slotting the thin tip of his tongue past your quivering hole. Taking him so greedily, the elastic ring of muscle stretches all around his form, clamping down as if to milk something delicious.

And Gojo knows - he thinks with whatever’s left of his rationality that maybe he should slow down, take a second to fuckin’ breathe. But, no, he’s making out with your ravaged pussy like he’s angry he hasn’t done this before - way back when he first met you.

A slender fingers pushes past your swollen folds to curl deftly into your gummy cunt, molding up into that easy divots at your walls. He’s feeling around so depravedly for your g-spot, aching to make you feel just a drop of the sheer need he does.

“Fuck!” Your velvety walls come crashing down around his fingers, knuckle-deep inside your ravenously swallowing cunt. Only getting faster - dipping perfectly to press up against your spongy sweet spots. Shit, he really was good at everything, huh? “You’re so…”

“What was that?” Gojo’s tittering, “Can’t hear you over your cute cunt, sweetheart.”

You don’t answer - you don’t need to, because all the breath in his lungs exhale out in a low cascade. Hiccuping around your candied clit when you take Gojo’s thick, weepy tip just past your lips. Wrapping just around the sensitive slit, it makes him gasp, it makes him keen, it makes him spit out some sloppy swears into your cunt.

“What was that? Can’t hear you over my cunt, Toru–” you bat your lashes, humming around his velvety head. Fuck- if you were in any better state of mind you’d have taken longer admiring him.

Because he was so massive, so pretty with prominent veins thumping at the roof of your mouth. Girthy, rotund end a throbbing red, gradiating into a creamy pink that meshed in delicately with those neat tufts of white at Gojo’s toned pelvis. So delicious. Big enough that you were already wondering just how you were going to walk out of this bedroom - if either of you are in a walking state - or even alive - that is.

“Fuck- fuck you little-” his mouth refuses to part with your puffy pussy lips, even if it was to talk back to you. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ think this is-”

The new angle has his sharp jaw grinding up into you, jostling your body up and down all over his face. He’s whining - heaving - at this point with every sultry swirl of your soft tongue around his twitchy head. Coating down every inch of your silky soft mouth with a hot sheen of precum, he tastes so good on your tastebuds - slightly salty, with a tinge of something so sweetly Gojo.

Powers acting before him, he doesn’t even realize it before he cheats - just a little. Eyes burning with power when Gojo uses his six eyes to plunge scarily accurately into the plushy bullseye of your g-spot. Greedy fingers hitting it again and again and-

“Satoru!” your scolding tone has his globular tip twitch ferally into the back of your throat. “That’s not- I can feel your jujutsu, y’know. S-so-”

“What? Good? Heavenly?” Gojo rattles off. You’re fucking your drooling pussy back into him - you can’t stop the mindless, shallow little grinds in an attempt to meet his mean pace. “Never said anythin’ about a jujutsu ban, pretty- you’re sounding like a sore loser to me.” As if on cue, your cunt is gushing out in more silken sweet juices all down the lower half of his face, squelching so obscenely. His droopy eyes admire your glistening cunt, riding his face to his insanity. “Well- not this cunt, of course, in fact- I think she’s gonna cum.”

He didn’t have to tell you - you already knew, with the trembling in your thighs, and the white-hot pleasure stemming from his incessant making out. Without answering, you only swallow up a few more solid, rock-hard inches of his painfully hard cock, lips stretched obscenely.

“Y-yeah- fuck, now I definitely know you’re close, pretty girl-” he’s lolling out his tongue to let you drag your pussy across harshly. “Don’t be stubborn- cum f’me,” Rough patches of his tastebuds massaging you just right, fingers still pumping recklessly. “Cum f’me- please. Wan’ it on my tongue- want you- want you to use me- please.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re finally cumming, fucking your high over and over Gojo Satoru’s pretty face. He’s wrapping a free hand around the small of your back, just crashing you back into his drunk mouth over and over and–

“F-fuck, Toru–” you whine, toes curling with each crashing wave of pleasure. It was so violent - so dragged-out, like no orgasm you’ve had before. And you didn’t know whether it was because of the technique or the lazy drag of Gojo’s mouth all over every beading inch of your pussy. Your fist tightens around the thick, heated base of his cock, “Need- need you to-”

“No. Fuck-”

In the fleeting millisecond it takes you to blink, your front is being pushed back onto the now-damp sheets again, a grinning Gojo hovering over you. He looked so ruined - smile gleaming with your trickling, dripping precum, eyes crazed. Suddenly, you almost understand why every breathing thing fears him - almost. His eyes were blazing, flushed angrily. “I’m burning- think m’gonna die if I don’t fuck this cunt right now. Fuck-”

“Havin’ to use your powers for everything?” you’re quirking a brow over your shoulder. “Don’t tell me the only reason you brag about being so hah- good in bed is because of that?”

He’s narrowing his glowing eyes, tiny sparks of lightning flying furiously, “Ohhh s’that a challenge, sweetheart?” Gojo’s sharp canines tug on your bottom lip, and you moan into the messy clash of a kiss - all spit and teeth and the taste of you two. “Tell me.”

“So what if it is?” you’re managing to push back against his slender waist. “Without those stupid powers, m’the better…”

Whatever insult was on the tip of our tongue dies down at the glint of the foil in his hand - the condom from before. That tiny square looking so pitiful held between two fingers, “The receptionist gave me an XL, funny, right?” Gojo murmurs, so dark. “Such a shame it won’t fit.”

One daring glance downwards proves him right - because Gojo was sitting so heftily sandwiched between your swollen folds. Painfully beading needy pearls of translucent precum all over your front - fuck, your cockdrunk self from before didn’t recall him being so large. Big enough that you were sure any rubber would be on the verge of shattering into little pieces.

So then go in raw- you think. But before the words can tumble out of your mind, he’s giving a slow, slippery slide on your cunt, “S’alright- with these ah- ‘stupid powers’ m’still gonna get a taste of this pretty cunt.”

And then you can’t breathe - fuck, you can’t even think straight.

You feel like you’re being split-apart, because Gojo’s just barely pushing in the fat, round girth of his head. Managing to pop in his long shaft past that sensitive slit, before his body starts moving in hurried, impatient little grinds. Frantically trying to squeeze himself in deeper- “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, even with limitless you feel so good, sweetheart.”

Limitless - fuck, that’s what it was. You could feel the slight pinch of the pressure around your body, the way he was reaching in so deep inside your velvety cunt despite not even being halfway inside yet.

“Satoru-”

“No-” his flickering eyes bore deep into yours. “Not that- call out f’me properly now, I know that smart mouth of yours can do it.”

Your words are barely a whisper, “Toru–”

The remaining lamp at your left goes out - cracking into tiny shards. And that’s all it takes for him to push and push in, distantly, Gojo knows he should slow down, maybe give you a second to relax - to think. But he could feel his sanity dancing away with every fucking inch fed into your sopping wet pussy, your elastic walls contorting to massage every ridge and vein of his so heavenly. Fuck- he’d fight a thousand more of those special grades just for another taste of this feeling.

“Oh-” Gojo’s jaw hangs slack when he finally bullies past that feeble resistance of yours. The very top curve of his head nudging deeply in a glissading glide down your spongy cervix, heavy balls kissing against your ass.

He lets himself be pulled, used like some filthy toy when your hot tongue cranes to lap up the trail of drool down the corner of his drunken mouth.

“Wanna feel you-” you’re gasping through each thorough, steady ram into your snug channel. “Wanna feel all of you.”

Another memorable slap! resounds through the heady air, sending sparks exploding behind your lids. “Heh- s’this your way of hah- having me stop using my powers?” he chuckles. “I’m onto your dirty, dirty tricks, y’know.”

Truly, he wasn’t. Gojo didn’t think he had enough of his brain unfried to even contemplate that right about now. But it was just so much fun to watch you mewl in protest, your cunt dripping even further down his twitchy balls with each taunt.

“Please- fuck m’burning up-” you spit. “Scared s’gonna have you c-cumming early?”

As a punishment - or maybe a little reminder about who really was the strongest, Gojo infuses his next sharp smack on your clit with an ounce of his jujutsu. The curve of his thumb gliding over in tiny circles to soothe over the buzz, “Talk to me when you can say “cumming” without hngh- stutterin’-”

“Talk to me when you-” Growling into the crook of your neck, it’s all he can do right now to bow his hulking body even deeper into yours, kneeing apart your stutteringly closing thighs. There’s a sloppy, milky ring forming where your folds kept smacking repeatedly against the sharp lines of his pelvis, “-can fuck me without your limitless going haywire.”

Fuck- fuck, how he wanted to prove you wrong. To have you crying out for mercy.

But Gojo’s throat drags out in what almost sounds like a cry when his limitless flickers on and off - just for a second. The mere touch of your slippery soft walls around his hot cock making him just slam down an arm on the headrest. It breaks - shattering into tiny wooden pieces, though, neither of you notice right now.

He’s maneuvering the two of you so easily to push you onto your back. Stuffing your gaping entrance back full again, this time throwing your limp legs onto his broad shoulders to pummel you in such a mean mating press. Just the sight of your fucked-out, pretty face has his ragged breath hitching, “S-sweetheart…”

Whatever answer you give is tangled up in Gojo’s drunken tongue, lapping at your words. His cock feels so heavy, so hot shoving between your legs. And the stretch - fuck, the stretch was something you’d always remember. Stretching out that tight hole into the very girth of his shaft - all the way down from his leaky, flinching head to the thick circumference of his hilt. “I don’t think I can- fuck, can I feel- please, m’dying to know what this cunt feels like-”

Your nails rake down the pale display of his back, those red, red jagged lines making him rut even deeper into you. “Do it then-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Oh.

Fuck.

It’s like something shatters - maybe limitless, maybe his restraint. Because Gojo’s eyes just fall shut in pure ecstasy, aching cock growing even larger inside you - as if that was even possible. Expanding tautly at your walls, he’s forming you so sinfully around his shape.

“Oh-oh– fuck you feel- how the fuck do you feel so good?” His free hand dips down to roll a depraved thumb over the nub of your neglected clit, catching on your bulgingly-stretched folds. “Holy shit- think m’gonna pass out- think m’gonna die.”

“Hah-” your back arches up sluttily into his around the fifth consecutive time his rough cockhead was grazing so perfectly against your g-spot, fingers buzzing with electricity at your clit. “You’re s-so weak-”

But it didn’t matter, did it? Because all you could do was hiss out a few wet gurgles into Gojo’s mouth, blinking in the sinful sight of him with his eyes so hooded, cheeks burning with a scorching blush, mouth dangling so addictively open while he sucked your tongue. Like he didn’t even realize what he was doing - how each pressurized thrust into your gummy pussy had the lights overhead flickering, sparks of blue lightning bolting from the corners of his mouth at the same sloppy staccato as his hips. How it made you cum.

“Sh-shit, Toru-” you’re gasping at the feeling of your toe-curling high, shots of pure pleasure running through your body. Convulsing up over and over into his weighty body, “Feels so good- m’cumming m’cumming ah-”

Crack!

And then it’s dark.

Hell, Gojo barely even realized when he does, too, shooting out creamy white ribbon after ribbon of seed with a soft, shuddering gasp of your name. And it’s the only thing on his usually-sharp tongue - voice cracking pathetically, when he whines it like a little mantra over and over and-

“Oh-” his five, long fingers splay out across your lower stomach - right where he could feel his own cock twitching wildly at the very bottom of your gooey pussy. Pressing down, hard. “Oh shit- just look at how you’re painted white from the inside-”

The lights were gone out - in all the wards of Tokyo, actually - and yet in the light of the slight flickers of electricity surrounding you two, you could spy the slow, syrupy glob of his cum down your thighs. Coating his hilt in a milky gloss, it sticks to the two of you like a sloppy second skin. “And you expect me to- hah- not go insane.”

You manage out a wet chuckle, too tired to notice how the bed was missing a headboard now. How all the furniture in the hotel room was trashed - as if it’d been slammed down from several feet above. “Hah- b-blame it on the sex pollen.”

The technique has him cumming more than usual, every new wave sloshing at your insides is followed by another - and another until Gojo’s cock felt so raw. Twitching sensitively in a way that brought big fat tears pricking at his eyes, and yet, he still fucks you so harshly into the mattress. Sucking out every remaining dredge of seed in those fat, cum-filled balls thwacking! at your skin. Sloppy. Depraved. Oh, he looked so ruined - like a man that crawled back from death, only to drag you down with him.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Gojo drags his swollen lips down your earlobe. Voice shot, “I don’t think the sex pollen is done yet.”

---

“Trashed all across the floor, trashed furniture - especially in room 143 - Hokkaido still doesn’t even have power.” Yaga’s bellowing voice has you sinking ashamedly further and further into his office seat.

Gojo, however, only beams, throwing an arm around the edge of your chair, “Damn- we should really try to send out the power in all of Asia next time, huh, my pretty girl?”

“Out!”

Across the hallway, three first-years eagerly (well, two of them and a reluctant Megumi) peer into the tense meeting. Wondering what exactly happened in your last mission that caused a record-level amount of property damage and the power to still flicker on and off throughout the day.

Yuji is the first one to speak up, “Well, no one’s dead but- why does the air seem so-” he gestures towards the almost non-existent space between you and Gojo - not anything out of the usual, sure, but the one thing different was the lack of threats. “-weird.” he finishes.

“Tell me about it. That Gojo almost seems…” Nobara shudders in disgust. “...happy.”

And of course, at that very moment, the man of the hour himself turns to look straight at the first-years doing a poor job of hiding themselves behind the door. Sighing overly-loudly, “If you say so, Yaga~” Intertwining his fingers with yours to pull you up with him, “We had a date anyway.”

“A date?”

“A date?!”

“I win.” All eyes - including yours and Gojo’s turn towards the usually-quiet Megumi, his lips turned into the beginnings of a smile. Almost. “You both owe me ten thousand yen.”

A/N. Hope you babygirls have a good weekkkk!!!

Plagiarism not authorized.

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talkingsperm · 7 months ago

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Repost from my twitter.

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talkingsperm · 10 months ago

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◞ KNOW IT ALL.

꒰ satoru is the most powerful god alive, crowned the zeus and destined king of the gods, but since you’ve known him, he’s always needed your help with something. ꒱

ᴍᴅɴɪ. 7.1k. f!reader. no curses, mythology au. fluff. angst. humor. smut. fwb. mirror sex, semi-guided. breeding kink is a lil obvious. light body worship. sukuna’s an evil perv ꒰ touches reader noncon but not detailed ꒱ zeus!satoru x metis!reader. reader is a nymph; satoru shapeshifts. nsfw. reposted.

one.

although too young to remember, you meet satoru, divinely named the zeus, the destined king of the gods, when you’re one year old.

you were a curious toddling thing back then, babbling endlessly and driven only by your given instincts and the culture of the oceanids. you understood shorelines as past times and jagged rocks in which the sea roared in all its brutality beneath them as sacred places to gather. you only remember the tender eyes of ieiri the amalthea upon waking. you only remember the scent of salt, speckles of pale blue, and the distinct songs of sirens that rang in the early air like glorious hymns. you remember how sister nymphs swayed like ocean’s surface to the tune of bloodlust-laden temptation and you recall the swell of your heart mimicking the impact of a crashing wave.

you don’t remember the day the rhea came with a song of her own, a melodic plea for assistance from your mother, the thetys, your father, the oceanus, and your caretaker, the amalthea. you were too busy basking in the novelty of the world around you to take notice of the goddess pushing the chubby body of a snowy-haired boy into your mother’s arms with a chorus of gratitude that followed. you don’t remember ‘hide him. please hide him. he’s the only hope we have of stopping the kronos. you can’t ever let him be seen.’ you don’t remember meeting him, but every memory you have subsequently is imbued with glimpses of his presence.

ten.

you’ve always been a child who warranted wonder from those around you. too mentally forward to maintain a similar pace as the nymphs you were supposed to learn alongside and too juvenile to ascend with the nymphs you were just as capable of in conceptual dexterity but not physical, there was always a disconnect between yourself and the others. the only counter they can find for the smartest is the strongest. and now, before you stands the boy that’s been quietly lingering behind closing doorways; that’s where you catch glimpses of him. the first thing you notice is blue, a powerful and electric shade of blue you’ve never seen. in his irises, storms swirl above an ever-azure sea; when you stare too long, you swear you hear the crackle of thunder in them. you swear you see a flash of lightning. a snowy mountain rests on top of his head, a disarray of feathery locks that refuse to adhere to reality. the longer you stare, the more you watch the hairs on his head rise to attention. “you want him to be taught by…this child?” you hear his mother ask and your gaze abandons him instantly. “they are the same in nearly every way aside power.” your mother, ever assured of you, rests her hand atop your head. “she is no child of ordinary bearing. bestowed on her is the burden of knowledge itself, an everlasting and eternal curiosity that seeds, sows, and bears the fruit of omniscience.” there’s pride laced in her voice as she speaks. “she is the divine metis and fruition of knowledge.” as your mother speaks, you see the rhea’s brows raise. “if the zeus is the strongest, then the metis must be the brightest.” “another precocious child,” the rhea’s voice is a dazzled murmur. “of course, if the gods themselves have chosen her mind then only she can be tasked with expanding the understanding of the destined king of gods.” you offer an affirmative hum, your small voice poised, “a natural conclusion.” “i suspect you won’t be needing guidance?” the thetys looks you over with a trusting smile. “you will help satoru?” you nod once, a declaration of your commitment. “i will help him, of course. i won’t allow him to become empty-headed and simple-minded like the kronos.” “i don’t need anyone’s help. i’m not just the strongest. i’m the smartest, too. i’ll win against the kronos and i’ll teach myself!” satoru’s arms fold over his chest as he finally speaks, feigning dauntlessness. you snort. “and yet you are here because you could not count your rations of bread.” “i can count!” the zeus protests, defiantly stomping his foot. “i’m the destined king of gods! you can’t talk to me like this.” “you are the metis; let your wisdom show in your benevolence.” your mother sings her constant reminder. “address the learning with grace.” you roll your eyes. “he insists he’s not of the learning. his ignorance must be the source of his bliss.” “anything that won’t involve you is bliss.” satoru grumbles. “satoru,” the rhea smiles softly down at the small boy. “be kind. a future king of gods must know when to request and accept assistance.” so there you both stand at an impasse with one another, the persistence pushed from the hands of your mothers onto your fates. you stare at him, and for a moment, you see a flicker of his future in his eyes, your future with him. this is a pristine kind of foresight you’re still cultivating, but you understand right then that your life will likely be spent by his side, for one reason or another.

twenty.

time passes and you teach satoru an abundance of things; at least, you try your damndest to. most of the time you spend with him is spent in gentle bickering back and forth about the uselessness of your knowledge or the dangers of his recklessness. a copious amount of time is spent trying to determine the best way to shift his boyish divinity into that of a god worthy of those in which he rules. in quiet, tender corners that you both carve out and burrow into to hide with one another, an alarming amount of time is spent exploring the depths of intimacy. your lips fumble over the other’s, shallow breathing entangled as you swallow down shared desperation; your hands assess the warmth of each other’s flesh between needy sighs and little murmurs. you teach satoru about the history of the gods, about the blessings bestowed on their breaths and fingertips. he, in turn, shows you what it means to be worshipped devoutly, to have your waist kissed and held, treated with the same sacred implications as an altar where he kneels and explodes with gratitude, where he seeks forgiveness and accepts the consequences of his fragilities. he only touches the surface of all that you know and share, but he knows your body with a sickening level of familiarity, knows exactly what angles to use to make you a flustered, whimpering mess. it’s not corruption, but he exhumes your weaknesses, lotus-eating your body and leaving it teeming with a foreign kind of decadence you spend ages chasing as greedily as he does. of all the languages, satoru is most fluent in pleasure and desire. “gods, look at you.” he breathes hotly. his greedy lips press a kiss against the shell of your ear as his arm’s grasp around your hips tightens. “what would everyone say if they saw you like this, huh?” your hazy eyes peer ahead into the watery reflection before you, taking in the sight of yourself and satoru standing behind you as you bend over the rough surface of a wet rock for support. your bare bodies glisten, illuminated with hues of blue from the iridescent glow bouncing off of the cove’s mystical waters. your eyes squeeze shut tight as you hear your own reflection release a wanton moan. he’s not corrupting you, but he’s skilled at convincing you to use sacred tools meant to teach him about his prophecy to instead gift you both with an unorthodox kind of pleasure. this time it’s the cove of the oceanids and the sacred waters that reflect to you the unfurling of your desires. he says he needs your help to grant him the most desirous result. satoru muses that prurient intent could be reflected and act as more so a guide. he reasons if you let him take you in front of this makeshift mirror, it’ll show him exactly what to do to reach the pinnacle of pleasure for you both. and you know that everything he does is merely a tactic, but despite your overwhelming clarity of his intent, you have your own, personal curiosities to satiate, which only he seems willing to do with little question and surprising execution. “open your eyes, pretty.” he murmurs. “look at what i’m about to do to you.” and you do, god you do. you watch his reflection holding his erect cock in one hand, a palm clutching the fat of your ass in the other. he looks down at his length and spits right onto the head, groaning as he strokes himself, spreading the slick of his salvia over the tip and lulling his head back momentarily. “there we go, pretty.” his reflection sighs. “spread your legs for me a little.” next, you observe your reflection obeying his gentle command, arousal filling your gut where you stand and leaving you clenching around nothing when satoru pumps himself slowly before lining up his thick girth with your entrance. you both watch his reflection slip inside yours with ease.

“fuck,” satoru sighs from behind you, only a moment passing before you feel a familiar clutch of your ass in his palm and hear the soft sound of him spitting down onto his cock. “you heard me, nymph. spread your legs.” you can hear it much more clearly now, the slick sound of his gluttonous hands gripping and sliding along his cock, wet from his spit and fucking into his own grasp with shaky breaths following. “s-satoru,” your reflection whimpers as satoru’s arm reaches and his hand wraps around the width of your neck. the veins on the back of his hand swell against his skin while his grip tightens and your mouth parts in response. it only takes a moment before you follow his instructions, your legs parting and allowing him access. it’s not until you both witness him abandon the grip on your neck in exchange for cupping your breast in his hand, fondling and squeezing while his other hand maintains a tight grip on your hip to keep him steady while he grinds his cock into you slowly. “look how pretty you are.” he murmurs, sinking into you with a whine. “you look so perfect taking me. so perfect.” your eyes flutter shut, his movement languid at first before he whimpers and his hips jerk, thrusting into you quickly, matching the speed he watches his own reflection fall into. his breathy moans fill your ears accompanied by your own gentle sounds when you finally feel the strength of his warm palm press against the shape of your neck, lithe fingers wrapping around and squeezing until you feel a slight restriction of air. pressure starts to fill your head and arousal pools inside your gut, forcing a high-pitched moan and plea to erupt from your lips. “yes, oooh gods.” your breathing is shallow, your hand rising to clasp his forearm. “s-satoru, fuck!” his groan is filled with an insatiable kind of need. “that’s right, pretty. you love getting fucked and filled don’t you? don’t you?” his hand leaves your neck, just as the reflection predicts and occupies itself with your chest. you wish that you felt more shame, but all you feel is the need to push him further pulsing through you. clinging to the aching sensation of his cock stretching out your leaking sex, you need him to give you more, to make you take more. how far is he willing to go to sate your curiosity? what is the capacity of pleasure you can withstand? nails digging into his skin, indentions of your own greed, you do your best to nod against his grasp and the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you rhythmically. satoru buries himself deep inside you, teeth nibbling on the lobe of your ear messily becoming wet kisses against your neck. “my girl’s a little know-it-all, yeah? knows everything,” “mmm,” you hear your reflection whimper brokenly, unable to see why. his salacious hands roam and grip and grasp wherever they can find support, wherever he can find an anchor to keep you close to him, to keep all of you like putty in adventurous palms. “knows just how to take my cock, how to milk it dry, how to keep all my cum inside, yeah?” he pants in your ear, his thrusts messy and uncoordinated but relentless. “knows she can’t let any of it leak out. has to let me fuck it all in or i’ll go insane, won’t i? will have to put pretty on her back and stay deep inside forever till it takes. can’t let anyone else have my pretty girl, can i?” your mouth falls open and only more feathery pleas emerge. “please, satoru. please. won’t let it leak out. promise. i promise.” “i know it, pretty. know you won’t. you know i can’t handle even the thought.” he leans in closer to your ear, pressing your body over onto the surface of the rock formation. “pretty girl knows everything, knows she can’t belong to anyone else or i’ll destroy everything, won’t i?”

in the high of his need and the voraciousness of his desire, satoru shamelessly makes you aware of the level of his possessiveness, makes you aware of how he believes you’re by his side because you’re supposed to be, makes it known that nothing will be safe from his wrath if you dare try and make him share you or any of what you reserve just for him, what’s always been just for him. your attention. your praise. the fruits of your labor. your friendship. even the seeds of knowledge you sow. it’s all for him, an indulgence for only the destined king of gods to partake in. in his mind, the god chaos gave you to him. as much as you serve your purpose as his companion and his teacher, he wholeheartedly believes you belong to him and only to him. he gets to have you because you’re his and should he ever pick up on any indication that his possession of you is riddled with falsehoods or ultimately untrue, he might indulge in tastes similar to that of his father to soothe the ache of your betrayal. you try not to think about it too much, try to keep your foresight limited in those moments because deep down, a part of you doesn’t mind belonging to him, but only if you remain blissfully unaware of what he’s willing to do if you don’t. “mmm,” your whimper sounds identical to that of your reflection’s. “i know. i know.”

twenty eight.

“satoru, i advise th—” he cuts you off, spinning around on his heels as his finger juts in front of your face. “don’t! i don’t want to hear anymore advising. not a peep from you.” an exasperated sigh befalls you. “get your finger out of my face before i break it myself.” “why are you even here? how are you even here?” he asks in a grumble, nimble finger receding. “what do you want?”. the older you get, the wiser and more efficient you’re forced to become at the hands of satoru and his recklessness. he doesn’t care that sukuna, his father and the kronos, is actively hunting him down to swallow him whole just as he did the rest of his divine siblings. this is because satoru the zeus is ruled by the principalities of his pleasures. he’s pleased by his own strength, delighted by the endless growth and capacity of his power, thrilled to perpetuate the notion that one day all he seeks and all he stands on will belong to him. all of it is already his and the only barrier between him and the future that he rightfully owns, his birth-given right, is every breath sukuna takes. you understand the kind of equation that constructs him and you’ve always acknowledged it lacks all patience. still, the responsibility of his living falls in your hands. the gods relying on using him as a tool to escape the evil clutches of his father will rain down on you in all mercilessness should the zeus meet his demise before the kronos. “i want you to turn around and come back. not only is the amalthea worried sick about you but it’s too risky for you to be out like this. i know you want to believe otherwise, but you’re not strong enough to defeat your father. you cannot kill him alone and we’ve discussed this numerous times. you don’t listen, and you’re not ready to be the king of gods, satoru.” groaning, his lip curls. “and what do you know?” fear suddenly weaves and slinks down your spine. your eyes dart, taking in the sudden sensation of oncoming presence. satoru pushes past you, his shoulder shoving into yours as he does. you anticipate his brutishness, as per usual, so you don’t wince upon impact you hardly feel. no, you quietly thank your foresight for the padding it helped you determine to place there. “almost everything,” you respond easily, turning to continue following behind him, his inescapable shadow, the only one who knows enough to keep him safe. “even if i were a fool, it would be obvious you’re no king.” he stops then. you see his shoulders rising and falling, his breathing heavy and erratic. his anger oozes from his pores. inwardly, you’re thankful for the consistency of his temperament even after all this time. it occurs to you then that he’s still riddled with all his childishness, still reckless and arrogant, flaunting his unearned certainty like a badge of honor, but he’s changed. where he used to match you in height, he’s someone you raise your chin to address. your lips have become familiar with the flesh between his shoulder blades. his eyes are more piercing; his gaze is sharper and it’s always fixated on you. his personality is the same, but there’s a new kind of urgency he’s crafted out of hubris and pride. he claims king and it’s more of an entitlement than a responsibility; this is a declaration of his strength, not an obligation to those weaker than him. he doesn’t want to be king to save you all from his father; he just wants to show that he’s become the totality of might because he exists and strength is owed to him by proxy of such a phenomena. satoru doesn’t want to become a king; in his eyes, he’s born one and it’s enough. “i am king.” he seethes. “if you can’t see that, you know nothing.” you huff in amusement. “no, you’re a foolish, walking target. if you can’t see that, you’re already dead.” “what are you going o—” as he speaks, you abruptly drop down to the ground to your knees, positioned for prayer or plea but instead wrapping your hand around the fabric of his robes to yank him down with you.

“a snake would suit you best right now.” that’s all you offer and your eyes are proud as you watch his body contort instantly, trading in the appendages of man for the guise of a reptilian. as always, his eyes stay a daunting and glistening blue as the rest of him slowly starts to become long and laden with white scales. when satoru transforms, you extend the length of your arm and his slimy, thick body slithers up the limb with ease. you make a mental note to praise him for his efficiency, for his obedience, should you both walk away from the coming conflict absent of bloodshed. perhaps, he’s learned to read in your eyes when your gentle suggestions are screeching alarms of danger that lies ahead. you feel eyes boring into your back as you mutter, “it’s terribly impolite to stare.” terror fills you and teems in your body. floods your flesh from your head to your toes, the thick feeling of danger a struggle to swallow down before you turn to face the predator you feel dangerously close to becoming prey before. you feel your breathing hitch, doing your damndest to steady yourself and sport only neutrality, but there’s a sudden fogginess in your foresight that makes you unable to see the branches of possible outcomes with sharp clarity. you see him coming, sukuna the kronos, but you can’t see anything past the encounter as you turn to face the man who more closely resembles a monster, the god that meanders through the heavens as a divine beast. his four arms protruding menacingly from his body, the cruel smirk that shapes his blood-covered lips, the glint in all four of his mishapen eyes. “now, now, is that any way to address your king?” up until this moment, you’ve never heard the voice of sukuna, only heard tales about the humor in his tone as he stares ahead with sinister intent. you can’t mistake the playfulness in the murderous look he offers between narrowed eyelids but you don’t react to it either. it’s been said that he smells fear and it’s rancid to him; they say he can taste the putrid flavor of courage’s failure and it leaves him with unshakeable disgust. they say if he sneers your way, make peace with the inevitability of demise. you lift a curious brow. “is this any way to address the embodiment of knowledge when you seek an answer?” a casual counter where you feign such a specific level of pride and absence of concern, you even fool yourself into believing that perhaps escaping the clutches of his mindless displays of evil and assertions of power is possible. the weight of satoru’s scaly form rests across your shoulders and the nape of your neck. your eyes gaze up as satoru takes in the sight of the god before you both, his hissing incessant as sapphire orbs remain sharp and focused. you feel the tail end of his elongated frame wrapping and weaving down your left arm in a protective formation. “ah,” sukuna sighs. “you must be the metis. come. i seek the wisdom of your foresight, child.” as he speaks, two eyes observe you while the others carefully analyze the creature clinging to your flesh. you notice his eyes flicker downward, taking in the cream-colored fabric lying in a heap adjacent to where you now stand and your gaze follows. for a moment, your heart skips a beat. knowing that he will take note of any shift in your demeanor, you gasp. “mother’s robes, what luck.” you groan. “as you can see, i have business to attend to. make your request known and i will provide you with an answer.” sukuna takes one step forward; the ground beneath you shivers. “when the titans spoke to me of the metis, they did not mention the presence of a serpent. what curious eyes. like storms and sea’s rage all at once. a nymph of the oceanids keeping a scaled creature as a companion? heh, i’ve observed every oddity that must exist surely.” you shake your head, objective in all your notions. “you could never begin to fathom the curiosities that exist in both this world and the next, but i can.”

offering nothing more than a fragile sigh, you squat to bundle the fabric in your free hand that satoru is not braided tightly around and dramatically groan as you shake the robes and make quite a show of observing it for tatters or flaws. another step forward. the trees sway at the impact’s jostling; the soil moans in terror as his soles sink deeper. “lies smell quite similarly to fear.” he states, the smirk on his lips deepening has his tongue flicks out to lick the traces of blood from his lips. “the oceanids that protect the shores taste exactly like the lies they dared to utter so shamelessly: pathetic.”

the naiades of night. i felt the anguish of their deaths. it was the signal. it was the threat. it was the alarm of the hunt. graciously, i pray that my siblings find peace in the chaos’ divine oblivion.

you allow grief to flood your heart, a flavor he knows well and prefers. the taste of mourning will likely mask the trace of lies you plan to string along. slowly, you clutch the fabric close. “i thought i felt their danger although i did not hear their cries. i was occupied in search of my oracle.” for a moment, you watch as he watches you with an interesting expression and then he laughs, full and boisterous, clouding the night air with the melody of his moral depravity. “most interesting,” he notes in amusement. “you do not lie after all.”

empty-headed and simple-minded. your greed will be your downfall. unfortunately, he may follow a similar fate.

you glare. “what reason would i have to lie to you? i do not fear you and i knew of your arrival.” a softer step forward, the extent of two right arms towards you. one hand caresses your face in a maniacal effort to drag out the truth through your body’s involuntary response and one hand brushes across your chest, groping and gripping, to which satoru’s hissing increases. you feal the heat of his skin and briefly, you worry that his impulsiveness will push him to return to his flesh in an attempt to go against the man he knows is his murderous father he’s destined to kill.

please remember what i told you. you’re not ready. don’t be rash. trust in me. trust in my ability. trust in the capacity of my mind.

instead of fear, anger boils under your skin. you smack his invasive hand away and your nose points up in disgust. “even with knowing your coming tactics, it doesn’t alleviate the disgust you bring on. ask the questions you have and i will give you the answers you want and send you on your way, but you will not touch me in any way i do not desire or you will leave just as you came, lost and empty-headed.” sukuna takes no offense, only chuckles. “what a spirit the metis harbors.” “first question,” you ignore his quip, fed up with tolerating him. “you wish to know the truth of the serpent. you feel called to it, familiar. it is because it is my oracle. it was gifted to me by the same divinity that blessed me with the knowing. it sees past the confines of this realm. it gives me foresight that extends past my own limits. it is not a companion but a tool, and nothing more. your familiarity and curiosity of its eyes are because i used its sight to see you traversing into this realm and the under before returning.” your lies come as easily as breathing, the fluidity in which you speak over the layer of your disgust that leaves no spaces to perceive the blanket of deception covering every word. two arms lower at his side; two arms fold across his bare chest decorated in the darkened marks of his ill-omens and the odious divinity that crafts his wicked spirit. he asks, “and why were you observing my movements?” the next lie comes just as fluidly. of course it does, as you’ve had even a minuscule amount of time to consider the answers. again, you thank the language of foresight for gifting you with his questions before he ever thought to drag himself to the land of the oceanids to inquire. “it was not you specifically i observed but the realms themselves. i live in a deep, endless state of questioning and discovery. my observations are rooted in the obsession that i have with knowing and the obsession in which knowledge has to be known and understood by me. it seeks my understanding and i seek to understand it. alas, i am a reciprocal nymph.” he seems to find you quite comical as he laughs again. “tell me the rest of the questions on my mind. i must say i am intrigued and entertained by you, dear metis.” “hardly dear to you,” you retort with a twinge of revulsion. “third question, if counting your inquiries of reasoning for observing you, you have been deceived and you wish to know the location of the subject of the prophecy which promises your demise, the zeus. the truth is that i simply will not tell you.” the amusement in his eyes and around his mouth dies in an instant. the worst part of this encounter comes. to you, there’s nothing worse than knowing and anticipating your own harm. a cruel palm wraps around your throat and tightens just as quickly. “you insolent child, you would deny me what i demand?” your throat, tight and unable to receive air adequately, chokes on its alarm but still you spit, “yes,” “do you want to die?” sukuna threatens, all four of his eyes blazing in a wildfire of homicidal fury around his dilated pupils. “it is nothing to me to swallow the life of another one of you useless nymphs.” your eyes are sharp, a soundless glower as you choke in his hold but make no move to fight against his lethal grasp. you wait out the discomfort for the inevitable outcome: he releases you with an enraged grunt, unfazed by your subsequent string of coughs as you struggle to return your breathing. all the while, satoru’s grip is so tight around your arm, it’s beginning to lose all feeling.

still, despite his obvious seething, he listens. he’s patient. he waits. he sits on his hands and keeps all of that percipitateness at bay.

“where is he? i’ll kill everyone on this god-forsaken oceanside.” you stand with your spine straight, sneering as your soft palm rubs across the aching in your neck where his assault occurred, anger spilling out of you as you indulge in your own impulsivity. “and you will leave with nothing but blood on your hands. you will still walk into the future of your demise. i see it in every path my foresight offers me aside one, you emotionally unstable brute.” wrath-laden eyes mirroring back at one another. “stop your games, knowing nymph.” you scoff and your last lie rolls off your tongue with ease. “this is no game. your ultimate desire is to evade death at the hands of your son and the only foresight i gain in which that outcome occurs is the path that i do not speak what i have discovered about the zeus. even if you find him, you will walk into your death.” “so he does live?” sukuna asks after a long moment of irritated silence. “i was indeed deceived by the rhea.” you nod, sending silent apologies to the rhea, but you have always known that alongside the zeus would be you matching his every step and behind him would be a trail of sacrifices made to ensure the death of the kronos. sacrifices to secure the end of a brutal and bloodthirsty era.

i know that madness will replace madness, but i have time to shift the possibilities for satoru. the kronos is beyond saving. his death is necessary for the continuation of the gods and the divinity that constructs.

“fine,” sukuna grits. “no harm will befall you now, nymph. but should i find that you have deceived me, you will suffer a fate much worse than that of the rhea or even the zeus.” an eye roll. “leave this place. and do not make it a point to return.” a final chuckle. “your knowledge shields you now but one day, i’ll have no use for you or all that your mind contains, and when that day comes, i’ll tear you limb from limb with glee.” you say nothing, knowing that your reactive words will only out you for your lies as they stand and put both you and satoru in alignment with a quick and brutal death. when the kronos disappears, all he leaves behind are his monstrous footprints in the soil and the forestry that quivers in fear even in his absence. for a moment, you’re stuck where you stand, considering all that had just occurred and finally, the rapid pace of your heart catches up to your underlying emotions: nearly crippling fear and intense relief at the simple fact that you manage to survive. once again, you feel the warmth on the underside of satoru’s belly as he attempts to return to his flesh. for a moment, your hand reaches and rests on the surface of his sliminess. “don’t.” you tell him. “not until we’re back in the walls of aegean. it’s not safe. we’re vulnerable until we’re within the reach of my mother and father’s protective blessings.” his warmth goes cool again and you take it as a show of his cooperation, his submission to your initial efforts of forcing him back home. the night begins with you following him out in his aimless wandering and it ends with him clinging to the shape of your shoulders as you slowly begin your trek back to safety. when you’re back your quarters away from all harm, immediately satoru’s tail unravels from your arm and he slinks down to the floor. you carefully hold out the robes he had abandoned for this form and you watch as his head slowly returns, then his neck and shoulders follow, and the long, thickness of his serpent’s form returns to a state of pale flesh and long limbs. before you know it, satoru stands in front of you, his body towering over you in height. when his eyes look down to observe you, you tilt your head up to match his curious gaze. he makes no move to grab his robes from you, only stares at you, steely blues teeming with nothing shy of concern. his brows bunch in worry, perhaps even remorse. “y/n,” the tenor of his voice a warm murmur. “are you okay?” a nod. “i’m alive.” “why didn’t you tell me he was coming?” the inquiry is wrapped in a tender sense of betrayal. “what if he would have killed you? what would i have done then?” you sigh. “you would have died tonight. that’s what you would have done. you behave as though my harshness is a product of my need to control you and exert power over you but it is nothing shy of my greatest efforts to ensure you see this through to the end. in the future, think before you follow your childish impulsions.” he stares for a moment, the remorse becoming lucid and perceivable in his expression. before either of you speaks, his arms wrap around your frame and pull you taut to his torso for a tight embrace. “don’t,” he pleads, burying his face in the juncture of your neck. the desperation doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “don’t scare me like that again.” the quiver in his speech tells you exactly this: satoru was, even briefly, convinced that he was likely to lose you at the hands of the man he was responsible for protecting you from. perhaps he didn’t take the prophecy as much more than a guarantee of his future power, position, and fate before, but now, you can feel in the way he engulfs you that he does acknowledge even a sliver of responsibility there. your arms encircle his waist as he mumbles into your neck. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. please don’t go.”

thirty two.

eventually, satoru resigns himself to believe that you may just know everything. time and time again, you demonstrate with ease that there aren’t many things that can outwit you. very seldom do you approach any scenario without a plan, without a reasonable counter, without an adequate solution. “gods, all of you are useless today. just bring me the metis and get out of my sight.” of course, you hear him before you see him because you always anticipate him before he sends for you. the zeus is a rather dishonorable man through and through, but he’s the pinnacle of predictable if nothing else. you watch as the fledgling oceanids scurry out in a hurry, relief befalling them all as they leave the zeus’ chambers to seek you out only to find you waiting outside, a calm and knowing expression on your face, as usual. one would think being the best friend and right hand of the most powerful god in all of the heavens would ensure your life’s simplicity, but alas, it is instead, the greatest point of your stress. it’s the center of all the chaos you know and touch. and lately, his erratic emotions and short temper have done nothing but send everyone into a panic. you’re aware it is because the time has come to eliminate his father and yet, many components that were detailed in the prophecy are still missing. “satoru,” you call gently. when he turns to look at you, you watch the irritation in his eyes simmer down and contort into soft relief. “just why are you making the young oceanids fear for their lives?” he huffs, eyes rolling as he approaches you. “they’re useless. they don’t know anything at all. it’s far too exhausting asking them questions.” when he closes the distance between you both, his hands rest on your shoulders and the look he gives you spells out all his fondness for you. still, even to this day, he looks at you and sees only what belongs to him, perhaps the only thing worthy of his protection. “pretty,” he murmurs, tugging on the two intricate braids that fall around your face. “where have you been? i haven’t seen you in days. i need your help.” you sigh. “of course you do, and i knew that you did, obviously.” “obviously,” he mutters. “and so again i ask, where have you been? this isn’t a good time for you to go missing on me, you know.” a huff of a laugh. “i was off doing your dirty work. you’re welcome.” “i’ll thank you when you have the answers i need to kill my father.” he grumbles, an arm sliding gently around your waist. “if i know my metis, you’ve come bearing good news.” you hum thoughtfully. “i’ve come bearing necessities and strong advising.” as you speak, from under your the cloak that covers your shoulders, you retrieve a small velveteen pouch, a deep periwinkle tied in shining, golden rope and you dangle it in front of his face, to which he uses his free hand to take hold of it. a slow smile spreads across his face. “this is the potion?” he confirms and you nod. “you went to retrieve it for me?” there’s a tone of delight as he speaks and draws you in closer. you knew he would be pleased and seeing your efforts grant you the result you desire, the oncoming avalanche of his praise falling over you, makes you shimmer with pride. you traversed between realms just to obtain this potion for him, a dangerous venture that was intended to force sukuna to throw up the bodies of his divine siblings to which zeus could then work with them to destroy him. “i assume this is the necessity.” he murmurs, leaning down to place a tender kiss on your lips. “now, on to your advising. try not to bore me to death.” your eyes narrow. “or perhaps i should take my potion back and let you walk into death. at least i would be rid of you.” “pretty girl knows nearly everything and yet still doesn’t know there’s no getting rid of me. pity,”

adoration glimmers brilliantly in your eyes. a small smile dancing on your lips as your palm rests flat against his chest. he looks over the potion carefully, a musing look on his face. you wonder if he’s worried, if he’s afraid, if he feels confident in what he’s going to do. “ah, my advising,” you recall softly. “be sure to retrieve your siblings first. you’ll need them by your side to destroy him. you cannot kill him alone. if you try, all our life’s endeavors will have been for nought. you will die. i will die. the oceanids will all die along with your recklessness.” and for once, zeus doesn’t offer you a snide remark or self-concerned quip to assure you of his own strength. instead, he takes a deep breath and says exactly what you hope. “i…don’t think that i can go through with this alone. after considering it, even having this, i don’t think i’d live long enough to convince him to take it. he won’t reason with me. the moment he sees me, he’ll try to kill me.” a knowing smile. “and just what do you suggest?” “i know all my life i’ve relied on you. i’m thankful, but i need you now more than ever. you’re the only one i can think of that would live long enough to get close to him and would be able to convince him to drink this.” the words are identical to that of your foresight and you sing a silent hymn of gratitude for all your steps that it’s guided thus far. you nod. “for once, you’re right. i’m proud you came to this conclusion without coercion. perhaps you are ready to be king now.” “i resent my awareness that you saw this long before it occurred, but alas, tell me what’s next, my wise and precious metis.” the words that leave your lips have been spoken before, but this time, there’s pride coupled with a somber understanding that after today, your efforts will shift straight from creating a suitable king into shaping him up into a suitable man. after today, your endeavors are no longer to save all of divinity and the cosmos alike but to simply save yourself. from him and what your devotion to him will lead you to. a glimpse of you suffering the same fate you’re off to rescue his siblings from flashes in your mind’s eye. your smile is sullen but a smile nonetheless. regardless of what you know, you must persist. regardless of the madman you know he’ll become in a state of paranoia, a gentle reflection of his late father no doubt, you must carry on. this is the burden of knowing. “a snake would suit you best right now.”

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talkingsperm · 10 months ago

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talkingsperm · 11 months ago

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The intimacy of “How did you know that?”

“because I know you.”

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talkingsperm · 11 months ago

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I hate you, because I need to place this overwhelming feeling I feel towards you because the idea of acknowledging it for what it is scares me.

I hate you, because of the power you hold over me due to my feelings for you

I hate you, because if I don't I might actually have to admit I love you

I hate you, no I hate how much I care for you

I hate you, because the possibility of anything else gives me too much hope, too much to lose

I hate you, so you hate me back, because your loathing glare is a thousand folds better than your indifference

I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, but I don't

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, but I can't

And I want to tell you, confess every bit of my love, display my heart for you, but I won't

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talkingsperm · 11 months ago

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absolutely obsessed with the way queen of tears is written.

it's a black comedy, it's a satire of the wealthy, it's a critique of patriarchy, it's a love story, it's a hate story, it's a terminal illness story, it's a melodrama, it's a work place drama, it's a makjang, it's a grey character enabler, it's a gaslight girboss gatekeep promoter.

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talkingsperm · 11 months ago

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talkingsperm · 1 year ago

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Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.

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talkingsperm · 1 year ago

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NEED THAT DICKOLOGY!

— fucking your mentor?

geto suguru x fem! virgin reader , v random + pure filthy smut , oral (f) , protected sex ! , overstimulation , folding position , bar restroom scene > car scene , face riding , fingering , hair pulling , choking + spitting n mouth , not proofread + rushed so lmk what i missed ! 🪐

⸝⸝ psychology.. the study of the mind. a beautiful study you’ve always found yourself interested in, along with the long hour videos of interrogations of criminals. so having a mentor for the job you’re aiming for as a criminal psychologist, is very helpful.

like when he takes you out to dinners with large politicians to study their behaviors. not everyone’s a good person, he reminds you.

not everyone’s a good person, when suguru’s looks fucking edible with his dress shirts and slacks, always leaving out a button undone and his beautiful hair draping around him like a water fall. when he looks like a trap you’d love to walk into.

you’d do anything to imprint the image of his stupidly handsome casual+formal look in your mind, the one you love to imagine him wearing when you’re thinking about him taking you on his office desk, so why not take him out for once?

who knew you’d get so lucky..

“we’re still in public,” suguru huffs with a smile, clearly teasing you with that glimmer in his eyes. ignorant, you continue to kiss against his lips, eager and hungry to the male pressed against your body in the shammy bar restroom. “please.” you beg, nearly whining and mewling for suguru with your drawled voice.

you lick at the lingering liquor transmitted from his lips. his hands gripping your waist. his cologne filling your nostrils. his stupid smile. why did your stupid mentor have this— even more stupid, affect on you?

“please what?” “i don’t know suguru,” you impatiently bite back, frowning at his deep seductive chuckle. the kind that pulls victims like you into his aura. into a man who’ll put you into a trance. which it does, “i just need you, please, touch me suguru..”

suguru lets out a deep sigh at your words, eyes speaking louder than his unspoken words. but you can feel his growing erection against your thigh, and you’d gladly point it out if he wasn’t looking at you like he needs you just as much as you need him.

poor girl, he thinks. one of his hands on your waist trail up. his right one, going up to your throat and giving it a comfortable squeeze. he holds you like you’re nothing, and it makes you want him even more, stomach turning with need as he tilts your head back.

soon he’s attacking your exposed neck— and you’d think he’s a vampire with a how the noises of his lips on your neck fill up the claustrophobic atmosphere. his kisses form a line directly up the middle of your neck, leaving you sensitive once they drop down to your cleavage. and suguru almost has half the mind to pull off your clothing with his teeth, choosing to suckle at the peeking skin of your breast that the sleeveless didn’t hide. “touch you hm? how much? just something like this or..” suguru’s laugh is hidden in your skin once his fingers slipped between the slit of your dress, feeling the damp spot on your panties.

the yellow blinking lights above you do no better to help your failing and swirling head. a mixture of alcohol and lust overtaking your senses— and suguru geto himself. one of his large fingers find your clit way too quick, but it’s as expected of a man who exhibits a sleek ambience of sexiness. he presses the bud through the ruined fabric, “or you want your pussy stuffed full of me. you probably haven’t been fucked good for a while— no offense there..” suguru rubs the area in tight circles, catching how your breath hitches, hands immediately latching to his button up shirt. he doesn’t care for the wrinkles, or how he can feel your nails slowly dig into the shirt, probably forming crescents into the skin underneath.

you’re just too cute.

“i’ve always admired how determined you are, such a smart girl huh? so focused on studies you don’t even have time to touch yourself. but it’s okay baby, you got me now.” you almost feel undermined, despite his words. the way he ignores your pathetic whines and whimpers with each second of his exploration around your cunt..it’s all too condescending.

“i’ll fill that cunt of yours with my fingers first, shit— you can probably only take one.” suguru’s observation is made when the pad of a finger doesn’t slip into your hole easily. your panties were forced to the side already and your cunt wet against his palm. the man kneels, sacrificing his expensive slacks to meet your darling pussy face to face. the psychologist pushes your dress up, to which you get the memo, holding the blue dress and bunching it up to your waist.

suguru holds your panties to the side again, squishing it with a single hand and his thumb kneading the skin of one of your thighs. “s’ fucking beautiful down here..” he whispers, speaking to the mess in front of him.

if only you knew how his mouth watered, drool almost coming up and his muscles fighting with each fiber of his body. he just wants to attach his mouth onto your pussy, let all of your juices and wetness fall into his mouth rather then let it uncomfortably mesh together between your thighs.

let him relieve it.

but, ever the man, suguru stays true to his words, licking his lips unconsciously and bringing a hand up to your folds. yet, unlike his usual patience and prudence, he’s quickly forcing one of his fingers into your cunt. your body jerks, “o-oh. wait! please! oh fuck..” you blabber off into a tandem, curses leaving you while his finger works its way into your virgin cunt. an abnormal feeling.

“already falling apart baby. not even moving it, c’mon, just a bit longer. we don’t want you to get dumbed out at some bar, right baby? not being in the right state of mind is dangerous..” caution is nonexistent in his tone, more-so mocking as he moves closer and lifts your left leg onto his shoulder. you know what he’s implying, his words are promises to how he’s going to break you and leave your mind a mess.

is it really sickening how you clench around his finger just from the thought? you already have him here between your legs and yet, he still keeps you on your toes with each damning word that leaves his mouth.

“let’s loosen you up a bit, or maybe you want some extra work with my tongue?” suguru tsks, unapologetically moving his finger inside you, thrusting it slowly before pulling it out completely to add another, “maybe let me spit on your sloppy pussy and treat it like a whore?” you mewl as he gives your clit a pitiful hit of his palm, then massaging it between his fingers, rolling the bud before slipping two fingers in with ease.

it’s all too much.

“i.. i don’t care, jus’ wanna cum— as long as it’s from you sugu..” you whined, looking down at him with tears filling your eyes, giving little sniffles from how his fingers nudge where you need him most, you just want to grab at him, pull at his hair as he fucks your pussy with his fingers.

suguru hisses, leaving your pussy with a kiss on your clit, “we’re getting the fuck outta here baby, not gonna fuck you here.” and as annoyed as you want to be for having to wait, you follow his words reluctantly, quickly making yourself as presentable as you possible could before he’s dragging you away.

you found yourself in multiple positions in the more comfortable sleek pink BMW— regardless of the limited space in the black interior. you continue your heated session in the stuffy backseat, ridding yourself of that bunchy dress and trying your best to get rid of his clothes before you were put in the position you’re in now.

“ride me baby, keep this pussy on my face, and don’t you dare fuckin’ hover.” suguru’s demand makes you bite your lip, crawling over on top of him and briefly resting on his now bare chest to admire him. his usual put together look was ruined by you. the best you could. perhaps the ideals he had promised to you, reflected onto him. his upper body is covered in stains of your gloss, mixed with your brown lip liner. and the cresent’s of your nails and purple hickies are only more decorative additions that stained his skin in the hours of the night.

suguru’s long hair is sprawled underneath him, undone once you had mentioned wanting to use it as leverage. and who is he to complain about your wishes?

“do you really wanna do this? you don’t have to..” your energy now is a stark contrast from before, unsettling hesitation within you as his arms wrap around your thighs, tugging you forward. a slick of your essence drags along his chest, a guttural sound escaping suguru from the warmth of it on him. “do i need to restate your words my love? i’d be happy to brag all about how you claimed to need me. especially when i can tell right now..” suguru scoffs, and you’re quickly lifted onto his face without warning, his mouth widened and is forcefully attached to your cunt.

the way he eat dines on your pussy is like a man starved. from the tight grip of his hands to the way his cock strains so uncomfortably in his pants. his tongue moves like a snake, flexing and gathering every single drop of you on it, then flicking into his mouth with a groan. suguru savored your taste each and every time, slowly rocking you onto his mouth until you were completely riding him with little cries and moans of your own, tugging his long soft strands.

your hands would fly to the handle of the back seat door, holding the black leather as you came or squirted. after so long, you never knew which it was— but you knew the man underneath you would eat it all up in mere seconds, his thirst for you never ending.

after so long, suguru had layed you back, his hands ghosting over the skin of your stomach with your legs sprawled around him. it wasn’t his ideal choice of scenery for the taking of your virginity, knowing it’s something so cherished. and of course, he’d want your first time, and your first time with him, to be more special than fucking you into the rough fabric of your back seats.

his girl is just so fucking needy.

“hah! ha— sug! um.. fuck you feel soo good!!” you nearly scream, voice breaking and your eyes rolled back.

suguru’s cock is stuffed inside your pussy, the only thing keeping him from your gummy walls was a condom around his dick. yet he hits all the right spots without hindrance, the thick member filling and molding you with each of his pounding thrusts. “yeahhh bet i do— clenchin’ around me baby, shit..” the long haired male groans, his arms are around your thighs— his favorite place obviously, not sure to keep you spread or to push your thighs up and fold you dumb.

rather, enjoy the creamy sight of your pussy around him, or fuck you how he wants to?

he chooses the latter, folding you easily and greeting you with a sloppy kiss that swallows down your moans. his thrusts are more methodical, but they have so much force, nudging your sweetest spot and leading you to cloud nine. his balls, slap against you ass loudly with each one thrust, stringed wet with your previous cum. suguru loves to feel it, the absolute mess between you.

“cum. go ahead princess, give it to me, don’t want you to hold back— not at all.” suguru encourages, pausing your wet and spit inducing make out session with a more firmer kiss on your lips. you whine, holding onto the broad escape of his shoulders, adding more scratches down to his back and clawing with each second you’re brought closer to your orgasm. “o-okay sugu.. g’nna cum..” you can barely speak, voice raspy and only getting worse with a thick hand wrapped around your neck. he really wants you gone, to let your consciousness float away and fuck you till you’re incoherent of even breathing.

at least that’s what it feels like once your eyes are rolling back, body stuttering as he fucks you through the impending feeling while a nasty glob of spit is forced down your throat which cause you to release around him suddenly. it’s too good, unable to feel anything, but feeling everything, at the same time.

youre awaken with his hot load shot out onto your stomach, tossing the soiled condom somewhere and jerking himself off to the sight of your cock-drunk state. through your blurry eyes, you see how his muscles contract and react, his head tilting back and his cock eventually giving all that’s left in little spurts. suguru’s mumbling to himself, probably things he’d say to you if he had came in your ex-virgin pussy.

“baby.. fuck.. you with me or dumbed out? seems i kept my promise, hm?” not trusting your voice, you nod obediently, closing your eyes in content as he sighs. “shit, lets get you cleaned up, then i’ll drive.” suguru grimaces, pulling you up to sit back, smiling from your whine of dissatisfaction. “m’tired sugu”

“me too sweetheart, me too,” suguru hushes, leaning into a soft kiss that only makes you want to fall asleep, sighing against his lips, “ you did so good princess, let me take care of you..”

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