Geto Suguru - Blog Posts
Speechless…but I love it
who wants an injection?
suguru has a thing for pretty girls with glasses. something about those black frames sitting on your perfect round face makes his cock slightly twitch. the act of you using an index finger to gently push them up the bridge of your nose will have him at your mercy.
he’s quite shameless about his fascination with your glasses; having you seated on his cock while vigorously thrusting up in your tight pussy to see the frames helplessly bounce up and down on your face.
when he wants to take you by surprise, he’ll slot himself between your legs and use his thumb to teasingly rub slow circles on your clothed clit, enjoying the sight of you struggling to hold your novel in one hand and attempt to keep your glasses afloat with the other.
when he’s feeling a bit perverted, he’ll have you sit pretty between his sprawled out legs and slowly fuck your throat. groans and grunts carelessly slips through his lips feeling your warm mouth take him so well. soon enough, thick white ropes of cum paint over the lenses clouding up your vision.
but of course, being the gentlemen suguru is, he’ll depply apologize for the mess and offer to clean off your glasses just for you.
reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3
Y/N: You saved me… Why?
NOBODY:
GETO: mmmhhhhh monkey
Y/N:
My interpretation of Geto fanfics
Not my GIFs
Okay but listen the girls would be so excited if they happened to see you at say the park or something and Geto is trying to hide how pleased he is too
is the single dad! geto x pre school teacher! reader overdone. or no. are we bored of that. bc i have um. i have thoughts
This deserves a goddamn repost.
Restless Heart Syndrome - Suguru Geto animatic ♡
Yan!Gojo and Yan!Geto Pt3!! ฅ^·ﻌ·^ฅ
A/N: I didn't know which plotline was better (sorcerer!reader or nonsorcerer!reader), so I'll be making two plotlines in different posts!
CW: death
This is the non!sorcerer reader plotline!!
Yan!Gojo who after the kfc incident swore to himself to keep you away from Geto (it didn't work), paranoid that Suguru would try to brainwash you into thinking that what he's doing is right. He keeps you near him all the time, in his house, jujutsu high, or your apartment, he's not letting you out of his sight.
Yan!Geto who couldn't bring himself to kill you, he did so with his parents, why would someone like you be difficult to him? But for some reason his fingers trembled when he tried to summon a curse to exterminate you, like his soul was trying it's best to fight back against his rotten mindset. And so, he spares you. Of course you mostly spend your days with Gojo, but when that slim chance the blue eyed sorcerer slips up the schedule, he takes you for the afternoon.
Yan!Gojo whose way clingier than Geto, it's like his mind just bumped up the clinginess after teenage years. Whether it'd be hugging you tight, or holding your hand like you're almost falling off a cliff, Satoru isn't letting Suguru have a chance to sweep you to his side again. He's almost tempted to handcuff you to his hand. And if you ever try to push away, expect to feel like your bones have been crushed.
Yan!Geto who convinces you that you're different than those monkeys, that heaven had made you itself, you weren't a non-sorcerer, you were human. If the chance of grabbing you from Satoru's grasp comes, expect to be pampered and cherished. You'll get to talk about the old times, play some board games, though he does cover your eyes whenever dealing with a curse collecting monkey. You don't need those lovely eyes see disgusting filth turn grosser! Just look at him while the curses do their job.
ps: I know this is a short one but I just gained the motivation to post on Tumblr again :)
Yan!Satoru and Yan!Suguru!! (>ω<)
A/N: reqs are open!!
CW: Overbearingness, stalking, lying, gn!reader, murder
Word count: 450
Yan!Satoru who is overbearing towards you all the time, sorcerer or not, you're his (not really responsible for) responsibility! He's the strongest, not the wisest, and the most handsome! Why do you want to listen to someone that isn't him?? Satoru is always sticking his nose where it isn't supposed to be! Your house is going to be inspected by the inch (to know your interests and more about you), your wardrobe is going to be judged thoroughly, just in case you need an entire new one.
Yan!Suguru who, though not as overbearing as Satoru, still seems to be everywhere. You're going to the grocery shop to help your mom? No worries, he can help you carry everything, no need to hurt your precious fingers with those heavy plastic bags. You're planning to travel to [insert random place in japan], that place is crawling with cursed spirits (no, it isn't)! Let him go with you! But like Satoru, Geto will be inspecting everything you like or not, even keeping a prized list for events he can give you a gift on.
Yan!SatoSugu who have some kind of love rivalry, it's not one where they hate each other, just an one upping competition or a 'who can find more stuff about Y/N than the other' competition. (it was a tie, they're both stalkers.) They also both spoil you to no end, their jobs as sorcerers pay them well, and who else to be their reason to blow money off their wallets? Clothes, expensive dinners, gifts, anything you could imagine.
Yan!SatoSugu who intimidates anyone who even tries to start any relationship with you. Who wouldn't be intimidated by a sorcerer who is quite literally the honored one, and the other who can somewhat par with said honored one? With non-sorcerers, though, it'd be a little more difficult. No worries! Even if they continue because they aren't intimidated by some teens in weird uniforms, Satoru's and Suguru's powers aren't for show! Though, they won't deal with them if you're there, no need for you to see the grotesque form as what Satoru calls them; 'unwanted attention seeker' took!
Yan!SatoSugu who met you at their favorite cafe, seeing your warm smile greet them when the doorbell rang. Honestly they felt like they were in a J-Drama Romance! And how you recognized them when they visited again (who wouldn't with Satoru's blue eyes that stare into your soul are…beautiful?), they never felt butterflies in their chest like this. Satoru finally got the courage to ask for your number after 10 minutes of processing with Suguru, which you happily gave. And that's practically how the friendship (on your end) started.
Something me and my friend came up with randomly cause of a head canon I have that Geto sometimes does stupid stuff and gojo gets blamed for it. Geto's thing is based off of Jay from the kubz scouts
Didn't feel like drawing so I used png's
I’m literally begging someone to make a fanfic about true form Sukuna but like that mouth on his stomach is doing freaky things to reader😛🤤
I KEEP SEEING FANART AND IM LIKE WHY HAD NOBODY MADE A FANFIC ABOUT THAT MOUTH HE HAS ON HIS STOMACH BECAUSE ITS GOT A TONGUE!?
Satoru doesn’t stop moving.
He doesn’t stop to think, doesn’t stop to breathe—he just searches.
Because if he stops, if he lets himself feel for even a second, the panic clawing at his chest will eat him alive.
He doesn’t remember how long he’s been looking when he sees you.
Right there.
In front of a KFC.
The world stills.
His pulse hammers in his ears, and for a second—just a second—he swears he’s back in Shinjuku, back in the rain, back in front of Suguru.
Suguru, standing there like he had already made his decision.
Suguru, looking at him with that quiet, empty expression, like he was already gone.
Satoru blinks, and it’s you.
Standing alone in front of the restaurant, staring at nothing, hands stuffed in your pockets.
You’re not hurt. Not scared. Not running.
Just… standing.
Like you don’t even realise three weeks have passed.
Like you don’t realize you’ve disappeared.
Something twists in his gut.
For a moment, he doesn’t move.
He looks exhausted when he walks in—a hectic week altogether—tie loose, hair a mess, the weight of the day still clinging to his shoulders. You only get a proper kiss before he mumbles something about freshening up, leaving you standing there, needy and restless, watching him disappear into the bathroom.
When he comes back, he’s shirtless, hair damp, towel lazily slung around his neck. He settles on the bed against the headboard, long legs stretched out, a book in his hand. The glow of the bedside lamp casts soft shadows over his chest, the definition of his collarbones, the slope of his abs. And yet, he doesn’t seem to notice the way your gaze lingers.
You’re curled up at the edge of the bed, watching him, sulking a little. He must feel it, must sense the heat of your stare, because he barely glances up from his book before tilting his head toward you.
“Come here, baby.” His voice is low, lazy, but there’s something in it that makes your stomach tighten. “Sit on me.”
You first didn't understand if he meant his face or his lap, when he takes off his shorts is when you understand.
Your breath catches. “Aren’t you tired?”
A slow smirk tugs at his lips. “And? C'm on, you know both you and I want it.”
That was enough to make warmth pool at the base of your spine. He sets the book aside for a second, beckoning you with his fingers.
“C’mere, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice like honey, thick and coaxing. “Missed you.”
It’s enough to make you move before you can think better of it, before you can let the last bit of hesitation keep you away. As soon as you settle onto his lap, his hands find your waist, taking down your panties as you lift your hips up.
He lifts you slightly, making you sit on his cock, it doesn't completely fit, of course, thumbs stroking your skin through the fabric of your shirt as his tip teases that spot.
He picks up the book again, but his eyes flicker down to yours,
“You gonna behave while I read?”
You shift slightly, just enough to make his grip tighten.
His chuckle is low, teasing. “Didn’t think so.”
He picks up the book again, pretending to be absorbed in it, but you don’t miss the way his grip tightens when you shift just a little.
“You comfortable, darlin'?” he murmurs absently, eyes flicking over the pages, but there’s a teasing lilt to his voice. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing.
You hum, pressing your palms to his bare chest, tracing slow circles over his skin. “Mhm,” you breathe, leaning in, brushing your lips over his jaw. He doesn’t react, doesn’t move—just keeps reading like you’re not practically melting against him.
So, you move. Just a little. A slow, innocent shift, dragging your body against his like you’re just trying to get comfortable. His fingers twitch against your waist.
Still, he doesn’t say anything.
You try again, shifting higher, rolling your hips ever so slightly before sinking back down, your arms wrapping loosely around his neck.
His jaw tenses, his breath catches—just for a second—but he keeps his face hidden behind the book, stubbornly ignoring you.
“Baby,” you whine softly, dragging your lips along the column of his throat, your fingers slipping into his hair. He’s so warm, so solid beneath you, and the way he’s acting like he doesn’t care makes heat spark in your stomach.
He exhales through his nose, tilting his head back just enough to let you nuzzle into him, but his voice stays even. “What is it, sweetheart?”
You shift again, slower this time, your body pressing flush against his. His hands slide down, palms warm against your thighs now, holding you in place—but not stopping you.
“You’re ignoring me,” you pout, rolling your hips ever so slightly.
He lets out a low hum, flipping a page with maddening calm. “Am I?”
“Mmhm,” you whisper, lips brushing his ear now. “Feels mean.”
His grip tightens, his fingers flexing, but he doesn’t pull you closer, doesn’t stop you. He just lets you move, lets you tease yourself against him while he hides behind the book like you’re not driving him insane.
Finally, after another slow shift of your hips, he exhales sharply, his fingers pressing into your skin. “You having fun, sweet thing?”
You grin, pressing your forehead against his. “Maybe.”
You keep moving against him, slow and teasing, pressing yourself closer, but he doesn’t give in. Doesn’t acknowledge the way your body rolls against his, how your hands roam over his chest, fingertips tracing over his collarbones, his shoulders, the muscles in his arms.
He just keeps his book in front of his face, pretending to be unaffected, though his grip on your waist tightens each time you shift.
Still, you don’t stop.
You press your lips to the curve of his jaw, down his throat, your breath warm against his skin. Nothing. Another slow roll of your hips. Nothing. His chest rises a little quicker, but he keeps reading, keeps ignoring the way you’re growing needier by the second.
So you pull back.
Lift off of him completely, his hands falling from your waist as you shift onto your knees in front of him. He doesn’t say a word, but you can feel his gaze burning into you. Like he isn’t gripping the book just a little too tight.
And then—slowly, deliberately—you pull your shirt over your head. Let it fall somewhere on the bed before you turn around, completely bare.
This time, when you sink on him again, when your skin presses against his, warm and soft, he sucks in a quiet breath. It’s subtle, barely audible, but you hear it—the smallest groan, low in his throat, like he’s finally letting himself react, just for a second.
You smirk, leaning back against his chest, your bare back skin meeting his warmth. His hand finds your waist again, palm splayed across your stomach now, going lower, caressing your public hair, fingers pressing in ever so slightly, then, creeping up to your breasts.
But still—one hand stays on the book, his eyes flickering over the pages like he isn’t affected, like he doesn’t feel the heat of your body against his.
Then—slowly, lazily—his free hand moves up, reaching for the band holding your hair in place. A gentle tug, and your ponytail loosens, hair spilling over your shoulders, cascading down your back.
He exhales, fingers threading through the strands, brushing them over one shoulder before his palm rests lightly against your collarbone. His lips ghost the side of your head, warm and teasing.
You lift again, rolling your hips, teasing yourself against him, but he’s too big—he doesn’t completely fit, and the realization sends a frustrated whimper past your lips. You try again, sinking down only to an extent, but it’s not enough. The slow drag, the aching stretch—it’s driving you crazy.
And then—you feel it. The sharp inhale he takes, the way his fingers dig into your hips, his patience snapping in an instant.
His book is tossed aside without a second thought.
Before you can process it, he grips your waist and pushes you down onto him fully, a deep, strained groan rumbling from his chest as you gasp with a moan, hands flying to his thighs for support. The pressure, the overwhelming fullness—it has your whole body trembling.
Then, he moves.
He leans forward, chest pressing against your back, his warmth caging you in as he shifts, guiding you down onto your elbows and knees. You barely register the change in position before he presses against you from behind, rolling his hips in slow, deep thrusts that knock the air from your lungs.
A strangled moan escapes you, your fingers clutching at the sheets as he moves again, unhurried but devastating, each motion precise, like he’s savoring the way you fall apart beneath him.
His breath is heavy, hot against the back of your neck. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” His voice is rough, strained, and when you whimper in response, he lets out a low groan, his hips pressing even deeper.
He leans forward, to hear you and to feel your skin better—his arm slides around your throat from behind, not tight, just enough to keep you close, to keep you exactly where he wants you.
His grip is firm but careful, fingers resting lightly against your pulse, feeling the way it races beneath his touch. He groans again, voice husky in your ear as he keeps moving, slow and deep, his other hand holding your waist.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your neck. “Take it. J—just like that.”
Your eyes flutter open, hazy with pleasure, and that’s when you see it—the mirror straight ahead, mounted on the wall opposite the bed.
The sight knocks the breath from your lungs.
The reflection captures everything—his body towering over yours, his one hand gripping your waist and the other on your heck, the way he moves against you, desperate, like he can’t get enough. His expression is dark with hunger, his lips parted, chest heaving with each deep thrust, biting and kissing your neck.
You can’t look away.
A choked moan escapes your lips, louder than before, your gaze locked on the image before you. The way you tremble beneath him, the way his body fits against yours so perfectly—it sends another wave of heat through you.
Behind you, he notices.
His pace falters for a second, his head tilting slightly before he follows your gaze—and when he sees it, when he sees himself buried deep inside you, his body covering yours, your dazed eyes, drool from your lips, how you tighten around him, how your moans got louder, his grip on your waist tightens.
A low, guttural groan rumbles from his chest.
"You like that view, sweetheart?" His voice is husky, rough with desire.
You can barely manage a response, your moan answering for you, and that’s all it takes.
"Y—yeah? you like that baby?"
His pace shifts—harder, faster, so hard you start moving upwards away from him so he pulls you back on him, as if the sight of you together, of you unraveling beneath him, has pushed him over the edge. His breathing turns ragged, each thrust sending shivers down your spine, and you know he’s close.
So are you.
Your hands clench the sheets, your body arching, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until—
His name spills from your lips, broken and breathless, as the pleasure crashes over you, leaving you trembling in his grasp.
Only then does he let go.
With one final thrust, his body tenses, his own release following yours, a deep groan escaping as he collapses onto you, his weight warm and heavy, pressing you into the bed.
For a moment, neither of you move.
His chest rises and falls against your back, his breath warm against your shoulder, his arms still wrapped around you like he’s unwilling to let go just yet.
Then—softly, teasingly—he presses a lazy kiss to the side of your neck, his voice a deep murmur against your skin.
"Now that," he breathes, a satisfied smirk in his tone, "was a sight worth watching."
A lazy hum vibrates against your skin as he stays draped over you, his weight heavy but comforting, grounding you after the storm you both just weathered. His lips graze your shoulder, soft and lingering, before he finally shifts, rolling off you just enough to let you breathe.
But he doesn’t let go.
Instead, he pulls you back against his chest, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing his face into the crook of your neck. His breathing is deep, still uneven, but his lips find your skin again, trailing slow, featherlight kisses along your shoulder, up to your jaw.
"You okay, sweetheart?" His voice is warm, thick with exhaustion, but there’s a hint of something else too—concern, devotion, the quiet way he always makes sure you’re alright.
You nod, still catching your breath, and he chuckles softly, his fingers brushing lazy circles against your bare skin.
"Did so well for me," he murmurs, pressing a kiss behind your ear.
You sigh, sinking into his warmth, letting yourself melt as he shifts to sit up, reaching over to grab the blanket from the edge of the bed. With careful hands, he pulls it over both of you, tucking you close against him, his body still warm from exertion.
The weight of exhaustion tugs at your limbs, pulling you toward sleep, but just as you begin to drift, you feel it—
A slow, lazy touch trailing along your skin.
At first, it’s featherlight, almost absentminded, like he’s moving on instinct even in his half-asleep state. His fingertips trace delicate patterns along your stomach before slipping lower, pressing against you with a knowing intent.
Your breath hitches.
"Mm," he hums sleepily against your neck, his voice thick with exhaustion but still laced with that ever-present hunger. "Not done with you yet, sweetheart."
The words send a shiver through you, heat pooling where his fingers tease, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring the way you react even with his eyes closed. His grip tightens around your waist, keeping you close as his lips press against the curve of your shoulder, a lazy, satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.
"You can take one more for me, can’t you? I can’t believe I lived without this for a week.”
Usually, he takes his time, his mouth and hands working in tandem, drawing you apart piece by piece, only then do you come on his cock, but tonight, there was a crack in the routine.
He’s tired—so tired—and yet, not enough to resist.
Not enough to deny himself this.
His fingers dip lower, pressing against you, and when he feels the heat, the wetness waiting for him, he lets out a low, satisfied hum.
“I almost forgot,” he murmurs, lips trailing along the curve of your jaw, “how gorgeous you are like this. All flustered, sensitive and red and—”
He presses in, two fingers sliding deep, and the breath you take is sharp, stolen from your lungs.
“—so fucking wet for me.”
His fingers move with a practiced rhythm, slow but deliberate, coaxing you closer. His lips press against your shoulder, murmuring against your flushed skin, a litany of sweet nothings that only make the pleasure coil tighter inside you.
"That’s it, sweet, sweet cunt," he breathes, voice thick with exhaustion but dripping with satisfaction. "Let go for me… just like that."
Your head falls back against his shoulder, body melting into his as he works you through it, his touch unrelenting until he feels you come undone, trembling in his arms. He doesn’t stop until the last wave passes, until he’s sure he’s wrung out every last drop of pleasure from you.
Only then does he ease his fingers out, dragging them up over your thigh, slow and reverent, as if he’s memorizing the way you feel against him. His other arm tightens around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, anchoring you against his chest, clean his fingers by tasting you.
"Missed you so much," he mutters into your hair, voice barely above a whisper. "Don’t think I can go a week without you again."
His lips press against your temple, soft and lingering, before he shifts, reaching for the blanket and pulling it over both of you. His warmth surrounds you, his touch still gentle as he strokes lazy circles into your hip, lulling you into a haze of post-bliss exhaustion.
"You good, sweetheart?" he asks, voice softer now, more tender. You nod sleepily, and he chuckles, kissing the top of your head.
"Sleep," he whispers. "I’ve got you."
And with his arms wrapped around you, his breath steady and warm against your skin, you believe him.
The car ride is silent—dangerously so. His hands grip the steering wheel tight, jaw set, eyes locked on the road, but you can feel the heat rolling off him in waves. You push your luck, shifting in your seat, letting the hem of your dress ride up just a little more, just enough for him to notice.
He does.
His knuckles turn white, and that muscle in his jaw ticks. His possessiveness always simmers beneath the surface, but tonight, you poured gasoline over it. Letting another man get too close, laughing a little too sweetly at a joke that wasn’t even funny, brushing your fingers over someone’s arm like you didn’t already belong to him.
So now he says nothing. And somehow, that’s even better.
“Are you mad?” you ask, tilting your head, voice teasing, knowing exactly what you’re doing.
He doesn’t answer. Just flicks his eyes toward you.
That’s fine. You like a challenge.
Your gaze drops, tracing the shape of him beneath his slacks, the way his pants strained left little to the imagination, and you bit your lip, heat pooling low in your stomach. He catches you looking, and his breath comes out sharper, hands tightening on the wheel.
“Stop” he mutters, but there’s no real authority behind it.
You bite your lip. “What?”
The corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s debating whether to punish you with silence or pull over and make you regret every second of your little game. His patience snaps first.
The car jerks to the side, tires skidding slightly as he pulls into a secluded area off the road. The moment the engine shuts off, he’s turning to you, fingers curling around your thigh, thumb pressing in just enough to make your breath hitch.
“You think it’s funny, teasing me like that?” His voice is rough, thick with barely restrained control.
“You’re hot when you’re mad.” You say it without shame, letting your eyes drag down the length of him again, lingering on his lap.
Something in him breaks.
He tugs you forward with ease, pulling you onto his lap, your knees pressing into the seat on either side of him. His hands grip your hips, rough and demanding, dragging you down so you can feel all of him, thick and heavy beneath you.
Your dress rides up, pooling around your thighs, and his hands waste no time slipping beneath it, fingers pressing into your skin, possessive, claiming. You barely have a second to process the shift before his lips are on your throat, teeth grazing, breath fanning, sucking a mark too close to your chin and low from your face that will be impossible to hide.
You shudder, fingers threading through his hair, but he isn’t done.
A hand slides up your back, tugging at the zipper of your dress, he pulled the fabric down your shoulders, exposing more skin to his hungry gaze.
His palms cupped your breasts, fingers teasing over sensitive peaks before his lips replaced them, warm and wet, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. you arch into him, pressing yourself closer, chasing more.
His teeth scrape against your collarbone, and before you can let out a full whimper, a sharp smack lands on your ass.
You jolt, a soft gasp leaving your lips, and his smirk is nothing short of sinful. “Now is when you want to behave?” he asks, voice teasing.
Your only answer is the way your hips roll against him, feeling how hard he is beneath you. Oh, how much he wants to wreck you for every second you made him jealous tonight. He grips your hips, guiding you, forcing you to move just how he wants, shifting your weight, he maneuvered you onto one of his thighs, pressing his hands against your hips.
The pressure against your core made you whimper, and he guided you, slow and deliberate, making you move against him.
The windows fog. The air turns thick.
And the way he looks at you? Like he’s going to leave proof of his name on every inch of your skin?
You think maybe, riling him up was the best decision you’ve ever made.
The moment he stumbles into the apartment, you can tell he’s completely, utterly wasted. His shirt is wrinkled, one side untucked, and his hair is an absolute mess, strands sticking to his forehead. and there's a lazy, lascivious grin on his face as he sways toward you.
“Baaaaby,” he drags out the word as if it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever said, arms already reaching for you before he even makes it across the room. “You’re so pretty. So, so pretty.”
You barely have time to respond before he crashes into you, arms wrapping tight around your waist, his weight forcing you a step back. He noses at your neck, warm breath fanning over your skin before he presses a messy, lingering kiss just under your jaw.
“I missed you,” he mumbles, voice thick with intoxication. His lips trail sloppily along your jaw, missing his mark more than once. “I was thinking about you the whole time. Didn’t wanna drink, didn’t wanna talk—just wanted you.”
You exhale, half amused, half overwhelmed by how affectionate he gets when he’s like this. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m in love,” he corrects, pulling back just enough to cup your face in his hands. His eyes are dark, half-lidded, pupils blown out as he drinks you in. “So, so in love with you.”
“I thought about you the whole time. Even when they were talking about boring stuff, I was just thinking about you, and your pretty face, and your hair, and—and—” He hiccups, giggles, then kisses your cheek sloppily, missing his target entirely.
And then he kisses your lips, like he’s trying to make up for all the time he spent away. His lips are warm, a little sloppy, a little desperate, and when his tongue swipes against yours, you can taste the faint burn of whiskey.
“Mm, I love kissing you,” he mumbles against your skin. His hands slip down to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. “Like, so much. I could do this forever.”
“You’ll regret it in the morning,” you tease, but he shakes his head wildly, pressing more kisses wherever he can reach.
“Nuh-uh,” he insists. “I’d regret not kissing you. That’s way worse.”
He groans into the kiss, fingers tangling into your hair as he backs you toward the bedroom. He’s trying so hard to be in control, to take the lead—pressing you up against the wall, hands gripping your waist as his mouth moves hungrily against yours. But he’s a mess. A beautiful, intoxicating mess. His lips miss their mark, his teeth graze too hard, and he keeps mumbling your name between kisses like he can’t bear to stop.
When you finally reach the bedroom, he tries to spin you around, guiding you onto the bed—but the second he pulls away to do so, he loses balance. His legs give out beneath him, and he stumbles backward onto the mattress with a dazed look on his face.
You can’t help but laugh. “Smooth.”
“Shh, c’mere,” he slurs, arms reaching for you like a needy child. And you do—crawling over him, straddling his hips as he lets out a breathy moan at the contact. His hands slide down your back, gripping your waistband, and with a drunken sort of determination, he tries to guide your hips against his. He rocks his hips up harshly once, making you fall onto him, kissing you.
“Feel that?” he murmurs against your lips, eyes dark and heavy. “S’all for you.”
You do feel it—the hard press of his arousal beneath you. He rocks your hips against him, slow and lazy, groaning softly at the friction. His fingers dig into your waist, gripping, guiding, needy. His kisses turn even sloppier, missing your lips entirely at times, trailing down your chin, your jaw, your neck.
But then, just as the heat between you starts to build, his movements slow. His grip loosens. His kisses falter. And before you even realize what’s happening, his head falls back against the pillows, breath steadying, lips slightly parted in sleep.
You blink down at him, still straddling his hips, your body burning from the half-finished tension he just left you with.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
A soft snore is his only response.
For a moment, you just stare. Then you sigh, running a hand through your hair before shaking your head with a quiet laugh. You should be frustrated. You should be annoyed. But looking at him like this—his lips still pink and swollen from kissing you, his brows slightly furrowed even in sleep, his arms still loosely resting around your waist—you can’t bring yourself to be mad.
Instead, you press a soft kiss to his temple before carefully shifting off of him, pulling the blankets up over both of you.
“Idiot” you murmur, but the fondness in your voice betrays you.
And despite the ache he left you with, you fall asleep smiling, tangled up in the warmth of him.
We found Gojo!
“Forever young… I want to be forever young”
And it’s a Bakugo edit
STOPPPPPPPP
BEFORE I VOMIT AND CRY AND DIE
I HATE TIKTOK EDITORS
FIRST THE DAMN GIVEN X STSG EDITS
NOW FOREVER YOUNG X BAKUGO
I CANT HANDLE THIS
Given announces a new movie and suddenly all those damn depressing songs from that show starts trending.
What do people do with these again trending songs from a bl show?
Make stsg edits
Guys i’m telling you earlier i was in the bathroom scrolling on tiktok and i see a stsg edit and i hear “Mada~”
I had to pause the tiktok and actually take a deep breath before continuing on.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY GETOOO (ofc I had to do smt for his b-day but I was too lazy for digital)
ᱬ ࣪𖤐 thoughts of girl dad! suguru meeting reader and possibly wanting to be boy dad! suguru after overhearing his girls talking one night. because why not?
ageless/minors dni. 18+ content on the final few parts including multiple positions, p in v with one intention - mention of breeding kink if you squint. generalised NSFW content. f! reader.
as always, reblogs/likes are always appreciated! enjoy ᱬ ࣪𖤐
word count: 1,068
links: jjk masterlist | masterlist
girl dad! suguru who always manages to lose the twins one way or another at the local market only for them to be brought back by a random young woman every time.
girl dad! suguru who knows the twins are up to something but he can’t quite figure out what as he watches them look around, giggling and whispering to each other.
girl dad! suguru who goes through all the emotions until one day the girls drag back another poor young woman, giggling when they shout out for their daddy only to see your bewildered face looking between him and the twins.
girl dad! suguru who kneels down to scold the two of them only for mimiko to jump onto him, smiling when she proudly announces that she and nanako have found who they want to be their momma as they point to you, bigger smiles on their faces.
girl dad! suguru who almost chokes on air at what he’s just heard, looking up at you from his knelt position as you blink in confusion, girls squealing in delight, shouting out he’s going to do it.
girl dad! suguru who lets go of the breath he's been holding when he sees you smile, letting out your own laugh at the outbursts from the young girls in the middle of the market, drawing the attention of passers-by.
girl dad! suguru who stands up and apologises for the way his girls had behaved only for you to shake you head, dismissing his apology as you explained you found them just standing alone.
girl dad! suguru who watches you bend down and and ask the girls if they would like a sweet treat from a stall you know, adding on “that’s if it’s okay with your daddy”. smiling with a nod as the girls squeal in joy, dragging him as they follow behind you.
girl dad! suguru who, when you all reach the stall, goes to pay for the treats only for you to stop him. “they’re on the house, for these two angels”. who’s worried the stall owner will notice but is shocked when you tell him you’re the owner and you don’t mind at all.
girl dad! suguru who spends a good while watching you interact with not only his girls but with the public, offering sweet smiles and giggles as you engage with each person you see.
girl dad! suguru who finds himself spending more time at the market when you're there, making the excuse that the girls love your treats but who can’t help but find himself falling in love with you each second he spends with you. managing to get your number so he can order stuff from you and totally not to spend more time talking to you.
girl dad! suguru who, after quite a while, bites the bullet and asks you out on a date, half expecting you to turn him down as he has kids, only for you to accept because you see him for him, and not as a dad with baggage like most others had called the twins.
girl dad! suguru who not only spoils his girls but you as well, everything seemed to click perfectly when you entered their lives and he didn’t want this to end. taking you out on cinema dates, romantic meals, and stay-at-home dates where the girls would be involved in things like helping you brush and braid his hair - you loved every moment, and so did he and the twins.
girl dad! suguru who eventually asks you to marry him with help from the twins. you couldn’t help but cry at everything you saw, from the homemade banners to the meal to the dark purple ring nestled snugly in an open box in the hand of the man you loved.
girl dad! suguru who, along with your help, makes sure the girls are involved in every single bit of wedding planning and ultimately, your big day when you both become husband and wife.
girl dad! suguru who loves how you throw yourself headfirst into being a momma for the twins, taking them shopping, dropping them at school, parent's evenings, the works all while keeping your baking business running.
girl dad! suguru who one night, overhears you, nanako and mimiko talking about things while you put them to bed after a story, mainly how the girls wanted to have a baby brother because they wanted to be big sisters. hearing you say they’d “need to see what daddy thinks of the idea first”, making sure to step away from the open door the second you turn and walk through, closing it softly.
girl dad! suguru who smirks at the look of shock on your face from not expecting him to be there, before bending down to throw you over his shoulder, laughing at the squeak you make as you grip onto the back of his t-shirt, making sure to keep a loving grip on your waist.
girl dad! suguru who places you gently on your shared bed before hovering over you, peppering your face with kisses until he stops at your ear, hot breath fanning against your skin as he mutters words of love and adoration.
girl dad! suguru who smirks when you suck in a breath when you hear him mutter “i heard what the girls said to you princess, so let’s get to work on giving them that baby brother, yeah?”.
girl dad! suguru who wastes no time ridding you both of your clothes before pushing himself between your legs, groaning out at the feeling of your walls clamping down on him tightly, not wanting to let go.
girl dad! suguru who fucks you relentlessly in a variety of positions with the desire of pumping you full of his cum, until you can’t take no more. until you're stuffed so full while being a blabbering mess beneath him.
girl dad! suguru who fucks you relentlessly in the nastiest mating press you’ve ever felt with the sole intention of breeding you, making your figure rounder and breasts full with milk as you carry his child, a child that’s half you and half him.
girl dad! suguru who has every intention of becoming boy dad! suguru as well that he’ll always fuck another child into you should your first one together be a girl - not that you, or your puffy pussy mind one bit.
© springismss 2025 - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.
The Scarlet Witch - JJK Masterlist ᱬ
The final pages sat in front of you, waiting to be seen as you took a moment, wondering if you should be peaking this far into her life. It all led to these pages, the final chapter of her life as the most powerful witch.
Sucking in a quick breath, you looked down and took in the final form of Wanda, the chaos and corruption oozing from these pages was strong. Was she gone or was she still alive after all?
‟ You know, the hex was the easy part. The lying, not so much ” | ‟ The Scarlet Witch is not born, she is forged. She has no coven, no need for incantation ” | ‟ I was meant to rule everything ”
ᱬ Satoru Gojo ᱬ
𖤐 needy husband! satoru | nsfw female reader 𖤐 you needy? | nsfw female reader 𖤐 toying around | nsfw female reader 𖤐 tattoo artist! satoru | g/n reader 𖤐 butterfly | g/n reader 𖤐 lipstick | nsfw female reader 𖤐 cosplayer! satoru | g/n reader
ᱬ Ryomen Sukuna ᱬ
𖤐 rockstar! sukuna | sfw female reader 𖤐 rockstar boyfriend! sukuna | nsfw female reader 𖤐 rockstar fiancé! sukuna | nsfw female reader
ᱬ Suguru Geto ᱬ
𖤐 girl dad! suguru | nsfw female reader
masterlist
soo
the stsg hitting again ???
coming back from the dead to post the STSG trilogy in traditional art I did for uni🙏
eating his love's sweets
reference was used...!!!
Certified W
I think it's actually crazy how much satosugu fans are winning right now.
There is so much beautiful official art of these two. By official, I mean jjk animators are coming out with these works of art.
Not to mention, we have an entire jjk0 light novel that feels like it came straight out of some heartfelt angsty ao3 fic with 100k+ words
also now we have the official s2 guide book that is making people go berserk because of suguru's waist (real)
Also just some cute details about the voice actors who played gojo + geto
I unfortunately can't find the source but there was this one interview where Suguru's VA says that the director specifically instructed him to say 'Satoru' as if he was a wife calling for their husband..yeah.. that's normal
In the jjk s2 guide book--that also had the drawings of Suguru shown earlier--it is revealed that Suguru sees Satoru as a sort of talisman that will protect him, hence why he wears a Gojo-kesa when he's older. Satoru sees Suguru as a moral compass, which is actually shown in the anime; when Gojo is holding Riko's dead body, he asks Suguru if he should kill everyone, basing his decisions off of what Suguru says.
Also just a fun fact: Gege is a total fudanshi (meaning he likes BL) and has taken inspiration from literal gay mangas to create JJK.
In conclusion, satosugu has been totally winning and it's a fire ship
cred for art above: pruu (artstation)