emms!

☆ emms ! suguru’s stress pillow n’ satorus freak — she/her

🥞 04’ tart cake spaghetti nfsw literature greek mythology blueberries ghostface burgundy ballet angel statues sugar sticky thoughts ? themes mdni jujutsu kaisen :freak by heart.

higuruma spreads your legs wide on the bed, face hovering inches from your pussy like he’s praying.

he doesn’t lick yet. he just breathes you in slow and deep, nose brushing your slick folds while his eyes flutter half-closed. the warm, sweet musk of you fills his lungs and he lets out this low, shaky sound like it’s the only thing grounding him.

“god… your scent,” he murmurs, voice rough and quiet. he presses his nose right against your clit and inhales again, longer this time, letting it soak into him until his cock twitches hard against the sheets.

every time you shift or get wetter the smell gets thicker and he chases it, rubbing his face slowly between your lips, coating his skin in you. he licks once just to taste but mostly he stays there breathing you like he needs it more than air, hips grinding down helplessly while he drowns in that perfect pussy scent.

gojo pushes into you slow and deep, eyes locked between your legs. the second his thick cock sinks in your pussy lets out a soft wet queef around him. he groans low, hips twitching like he cant help it.

he pulls back just enough then slides in again, forcing another puff of air out. the sound is small and embarrassing and it makes his cock throb hard inside you. every thrust traps more air only to push it back out in those quiet little queefs that he cant stop watching.

“fuck… listen to your pussy,” he mutters, voice rough, never looking away. he keeps the angle just right so each stroke makes it happen again and again, the wet sounds mixing with how soaked you are.

uh yes they are??? your writing is top notch peak??? miss maam who is lying to you???

satoru’s got you face-down on the mattress before you can even catch your breath.

one arm snakes around your throat from behind—not choking, just firm enough that every swallow presses your adam’s apple against the crook of his elbow. his bicep flexes under your chin, solid and warm, trapping you in the perfect headlock while his chest molds to your back. you feel every ridge of muscle, the steady thud of his heart against your spine.

“stay still,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. voice low, lazy, like he’s commenting on the weather instead of pinning you helpless.

his free hand grips your hip, yanks you back until your ass is flush against him. cock already hard, thick, sliding between your cheeks once, twice, smearing precum before he notches at your entrance. no warning. he pushes in slow—agonizingly slow—so you feel the stretch burn through every inch. your walls flutter around him, trying to adjust, but he doesn’t give you time. hips snap forward and he bottoms out in one smooth thrust.

you gasp. the sound gets caught in his arm, muffled against the inside of your elbow. he tightens just a fraction—enough to make your head swim pleasantly, blood rushing in your ears.

“there you go,” he breathes. “just like that.”

then he starts fucking you.

long, deep strokes that make the headboard knock against the wall. every time he pulls back his arm flexes, keeping your neck arched, throat exposed. you can’t hide the little whimpers that spill out—raw, needy. he drinks them in, lips pressed to your shoulder, teeth grazing skin.

his cock drags against that spot inside you on every thrust, relentless. the angle’s brutal with how he’s got you folded—ass up, chest down, head locked in place. you feel so full it aches in the best way, pressure building low in your belly until your thighs shake.

he shifts his grip. forearm slides higher, pressing under your jaw so your head tips back further. now he can see your face—flushed, lips parted, eyes glassy. he groans at the sight, hips stuttering once before picking up speed.

“look at you,” he rasps. “taking it so well. my pretty little thing.”

the praise hits harder than the thrusts. your cunt clenches hard around him and he curses under his breath, burying his face in your neck. teeth sink into the soft skin there—not breaking, just marking—as he grinds deep, circling his hips so the base of his cock grinds against your clit.

you’re close. so close the edges of your vision blur. every breath is shallow, controlled by the flex of his arm. the headlock keeps you right there—dangling on the edge, unable to pull away, unable to do anything but take it.

“come on,” he coaxes, voice wrecked. “let me feel it. squeeze around me like you mean it.”

one more deep thrust, grinding right against that spot, and you shatter.

your whole body locks up—walls clamping down so hard he hisses through his teeth. orgasm rolls through you in heavy waves, thighs trembling, toes curling, muffled cries vibrating against his forearm. he doesn’t stop. keeps fucking you through it, drawing it out until you’re oversensitive and whining.

he follows right after. hips slamming once, twice—then he’s spilling inside you, hot and thick, cock pulsing with every spurt. his arm tightens for a second—reflex—cutting your air just enough to make stars burst behind your eyes before he loosens again.

he stays buried, panting against your neck. arm still looped around your throat, but softer now. thumb strokes lazy circles over your pulse point while he catches his breath.

“good girl,” he murmurs, kissing the shell of your ear. “so fucking good.”

he doesn’t pull out yet. just rocks gently, letting you feel him soften inside while his arm keeps you cradled against him—like he’s not ready to let go.

he’s on his knees before you even finish kicking your panties off.

choso doesn’t ask. he just drops, hands sliding up the backs of your thighs, thumbs hooking under the crease where leg meets ass. he spreads you slow, deliberate, until your cheeks part and cool air hits the sensitive pucker. you feel the first warm exhale against your skin—shaky, hungry—and then his nose brushes right there, pressing in like he’s trying to breathe you in deeper.

his tongue comes next. flat and broad at first, dragging one long, wet stripe from your perineum all the way up to the small of your back. the texture is soft, almost too soft, velvet heat that makes your thighs twitch. he groans low against you, the vibration traveling straight up your spine. you taste salt and musk on his tongue when he licks again, slower this time, circling the tight ring with the tip until it flutters under the attention.

he eats like he’s starving.

lips seal around your hole, sucking gently, then harder, pulling the sensitive skin taut. his tongue pushes inside—slow, insistent—stretching you open with wet, slippery heat. you feel every inch of it curling, flicking, pressing against the inner walls like he’s mapping every sensitive spot. the wet sounds are obscene: slick smacks, soft slurps, his muffled moans vibrating right into you.

his hands keep you spread wide. fingers dig into the meat of your ass, kneading, spreading you further so he can bury his face deeper. his nose presses against your cunt, smearing your wetness across his cheeks while his tongue fucks in and out in lazy, deep strokes. you can feel drool leaking down your thighs, warm trails that cool in the air before he chases them with another long lick.

when you start to rock back against his mouth he growls—actual growl—and holds you still. one arm bands around your hips, locking you in place while his free hand slips between your legs. two fingers slide into your cunt, curling up to press against that spot inside while his tongue keeps working your ass, relentless.

the dual sensation hits hard. pressure building low in your belly, thighs shaking, toes curling against the floor. he doesn’t let up—tongue thrusting in time with his fingers, lips sucking, nose grinding against your clit until everything blurs.

you come with a broken sound, clenching around his fingers and his tongue at the same time. he drinks it down—every flutter, every pulse—lapping slow and thorough like he’s cleaning you up. his tongue stays buried through the aftershocks, gentle now, soothing the oversensitive rim with soft, kitten licks.

when he finally pulls back his lips are swollen, chin glistening, eyes dark and glassy. he rests his forehead against the small of your back, breathing hard.

“taste so fucking good,” he mumbles, voice wrecked. “could do this for hours.”

his thumbs stroke lazy circles over your cheeks, keeping you spread just enough to feel the cool air on your wet, puffy hole.

then he leans in again.

just one more taste, he promises.