I write (smutty) fanfic about whatever hyperfixations I have, usually JJK or AOT.
I’m mainly using this account for reader-insert fic. I’m a multishipper, so I’ll be reblogging and posting headcanons, fan art, and more about any characters I think should fuck. If you’re interested in my other works, check out my AO3!
Since I write and reblog NSFW, this is an 18+ account. If you’re a minor, please do not follow or interact with my posts.
LINKS:
❤️ Strawpage
❤️ Bluesky (I’m more active on there)
❤️ AO3 (again) (I’m rlly enthusiastic about my yaoi)
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just curious, in your bully satosugu x reader fic, how do you think it would have been different if reader did give gojo a blowjob?
Omg I just saw this. Yk I did consider going in that direction, but I felt like the reader wouldn’t push herself that far, considering her shyness and inexperience.
if the blowjob ended up happening, I think that Geto probably would’ve wanted in on it, and the reader would’ve been in for a hell of a ride. They prob would’ve been obsessed with her after that.
18+ MDNI | this was a response to a Strawpage request for “Nanami jerking off somewhere he shouldn’t be”
Nanami Kento knows he shouldn’t be doing this. He knows that this is a huge breach of your privacy, your trust, that he’s taking a sledgehammer to whatever semblance of a normal working relationship the two of you have managed to create. He knows. He unzips his pants anyway.
You can’t see him. He has his webcam conveniently turned off while you give a presentation over Zoom. You’ve done a good job, really; you deserve his full attention. Not —
Nanami starts slowly stroking his thick cock. He bites his lip.
Not this. You don’t deserve this.
He keeps touching himself. He knows he’s not a saint.
His eyes flick to your tits. You’re wearing a shirt that must’ve shrunk in the wash, and you’re braless on top of that, nipples clearly poking through. How many times has he dreamed of calling you into his office, bending you over his desk, squeezing your tits while he takes you from behind? Too many to count.
Nanami jerks himself faster. He purses his lips to suppress any noise, but a shaky moan escapes his mouth anyway.
Suddenly, you stop talking. He’s too far gone to notice. He keeps fucking his fist until you say, “Nanami, is everything alright?”
bully!sukuna and bully!satoru were the devils, you were sure. everything they said, everything they did would only attribute to your claim. in the grand scheme of things, they did all they could, just to make your bad days just a little worse.
a seemingly accidental bump, a well-timed shove, and suddenly, the carefully organized stack of papers you were carrying would drop onto the grimy floor.
your face would burn with humiliation as you scrambled to gather the scattered sheets, the sound of their mocking laughter echoing around you.
"oh, my bad! didn't see you there," gojo would snicker, his voice dripping with false sincerity.
sukuna snorts, leaning against a nearby locker with an air of bored superiority, would chime in, his voice a deep, gravelly drawl that sent shivers down your spine, "looks like someone's having a fuckin' rough day, huh?" so condescending. so cruel.
as you bent to retrieve the papers, the already precarious hem of your tiny school uniform skirt would ride up, revealing a flash of baby pink panties that clung to the curve of your ass.
they'd had pulled strings, whispered to someone, to ensure your skirt was always a size too small, a constant source of discomfort and vulnerability.
and, you? well, you were never the wiser. innocent and naïve, you struggled to comprehend the depth of their malice.
but, the hallway incidents were just the opening act. their cruelty extended beyond casual torment.
you always retreated to the quiet solitude of the outdoors, hoping to escape their suffocating presence. yet, like relentless shadows, they would follow, their laughter and taunts cutting through the peaceful ambiance.
one particularly sweltering afternoon, as you sat alone beneath the shade of an oak, a sudden splash of cold water cascaded down your back. you gasped, your white button-up shirt instantly clinging to your skin, the flimsy material offering little resistance to the revealing dampness.
even with no one else around to witness your mortification, the shame felt even worse with just them. the thin fabric clung to your chest, showing off your perky tits. the sudden chill caused your nipples to harden visibly through the wet cloth.
"fuck, that's a sight," sukuna's voice, low and husky, cut through the air.
lost in your embarrassment, you didn't even register the faint click of a phone camera, the subtle exchange of knowing glances between them, hidden behind their loud, booming laughter. they reveled in your discomfort, their eyes lingering on your exposed form with a predatory gleam.
the question that kept nagging at you was just why? why you? you'd never messed with them, never even tried to get their attention. you'd gone out of your way to avoid them, trying to disappear. and still, they were always there, making your life hell at every turn.
a question that nagged at you especially so, when you were bent over an empty classroom's desk, choking on sukuna's thick cock, while gojo's rammed into your aching pussy.
why you? you didn't have the prettiest face, with round, chunky glasses that didn't fit quite right. you didn't have a perfect hourglass, with full hips and big boobs. your hair was always at least a little frizzy, no matter how much you tried to tame it. didn't even have a alluring personality, instead blurring into the background, like any wallflower. you weren't a head-turner, not really.
you'd been taught, growing up, to avoid confrontation, and to stay out of trouble. but, if trouble was adamant on finding you, the best you could do was tough it out, right? the faster you succumbed, the faster it'd be over with... right?
you clench around gojo, his fat tip kissing your cervix. every thrust felt like it was pushing you closer and closer to the edge, not one you'd be able to return from. your small, fluttering hole did it's best to accommodate to his size, but fuck — it was too much.
"mm, so, so tight—virgin lil' pussy," gojo groans, pinching your clit.
you cry, though it's horridly muffled, "p-please..." you're unsure what you're begging for.
sukuna ignores you, shoving his length further down your throat, "shit, takes it real well from here, too. what a good fuckin' girl."
they go over and over again, ignoring your sobbing (whether from pain or pleasure, you didn't know), instead repeatedly switching spots. you cum for the nth time, the gushing squirt betraying you. you've lost count, actually, how many times they've made you come undone. all you know; it's more than you've ever made yourself.
they may have been the devils, but as you looked up at them, teary eyes blurring your vision, they were heavenly. especially when they were filling up all your holes like that.
Geto Suguru is a grade A++ sexter. He personally prefers words to pictures, really likes to set the scene.
Gojo, however, sucks so bad at it and not for any reason other than he is a bit lazy about it. He himself loves sending tastefully obscene nudes at the worst possible time. Likely shuffles through his own collection and admires how pretty/hot he is to himself before firing them off at random to the unsuspecting Suguru.
100/10 thinks he has sent Geto enough pics over the years and doesn't need to put effort into it because "he already knows how hot I am, how tight I am, how good I make him feel"
So he will initiate fully knowing he is not about to do a damn thing but one or two word responses, while Geto is putting his whole soul into it, writing him prose only for Gojo to jerk off and fall immediately asleep, effectively leaving Geto hanging.
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Sometimes, this whole thing feels like a ticking time bomb. Not even a well-made one, but something shitty Satoru threw together on the fly, counting down the seconds until this whole thing blows up in his face. Until one of them loses their patience, until it’s both or nothing isn’t a good enough excuse. Those are the days where Satoru feels like he’s holding his breath at every second, even though he’s—well, he’s dead.
There’s no days, here. There’s no way to tell how long they’ve been doing this for. There’s no way for Satoru to even guess what this is—a relationship sounds too definitive, and none of the other words he can think of sound right. They’re either sterile or flippant or flowery, and none of that suits this weird, greedy, stubborn, messy, fluctuating thing that exists between the three of them.
This moment is an exception. A quiet lull. One of the rare moments where Satoru’s the one laying awake, and Sukuna and Suguru are passed out next to him. Arms slung over his torso, legs tangled up in his. Their bodies slot together with a surprising ease—a head into a neck, a shoulder into the crook of an elbow. It’s quiet in a way Satoru isn’t used to, isn’t quite sure he’s entirely comfortable with.
After the life he’s lived, he’s come to appreciate the stillness of the afterlife. But that’s when Suguru and Sukuna are awake for him to bounce off of and clash against. Even when they aren’t necessarily unpleasant, he doesn’t like being left alone with his thoughts.
Still, it’s nice. Whoever thought up “resting” as a euphemism for passing on, they were kind of on the money with that. Living feels restless—like you’re running from one place to the next, trying to do as much as you can before your time runs out. Living is milestones and achievements and pitfalls you have to drag yourself out of. And dying is…not that. Satoru doesn’t know. He’s a sorcerer, not a poet.
He doesn’t think this could have happened any other way, though. The thing.
It had been easy at first—Satoru and Suguru, finding peace and closure at the end. Saying everything that had been left unsaid. The missing piece in both their lives clicking into place. And then Sukuna—dead an eternity and an hour after him. Satoru’s sure he found them on accident, even if Sukuna refuses to admit it. He remembers the look on his face—rare, genuine surprise, followed by confusion, frustration, and some spasming, inexplicable emotion Satoru can’t name. Everything after that was familiar—the demanding and threatening, the give me what is mine by rights.
His by rights being, well. Satoru. Which Satoru would have happily challenged and accepted under different circumstances—because fighting Sukuna felt like satisfaction, felt like falling in love, felt like he could finally, finally let loose—were it not for the fact that he had Suguru now. Suguru, the first person he’d ever stood on equal ground with, whom he’d loved and regretted until the day he died. And Sukuna crashing in and demanding he give that up? Just for him? Absolutely not.
It’s both or nothing.
The Sukuna Satoru had fought would have Cleaved him in half for his audacity. The Sukuna who found him in the place after death seems to have developed a sliver of grudging, reluctant goodwill.
Both or nothing. Suguru and Sukuna, the start and end of him. Satoru has them both, and if that were all that would be fine. But they’re the only ones here, and forced proximity means that he gets to see exactly how Sukuna and Suguru chafe against each other. Not just over him, but over each other. Lives, ideals, regrets and unfinished business. Morality and meaning, purpose and power.
Sometimes Satoru wonders if they enjoy getting to fight with someone about these things—lofty, pretentious bastard meets lofty, pretentious bastard. Sometimes he wonders if just looking at Sukuna pisses Suguru off—or if he, like Satoru, finds some kind of permission in him. Sometimes he wonders if Sukuna tolerates Suguru’s presence because he sees something worth entertaining, or solely because of Satoru’s demands. Sometimes, he wonders if what he’s instigated is forced endurance or something different.
It’s been getting harder to tell, lately. The two of them are both easy and impossible to read. All Satoru can say for sure is, there’s something there between each of them—a pull and a tension that’s both the biggest threat and greatest draw for this. Them. The time bomb. The stillness. The thing.
He hopes it doesn’t give out. He’ll admit this to himself, once, now, and never again—he doesn’t know if he can handle eternity without this. The two people who ever got close to understanding him. The constant push and pull, comfort meets contest. If he’s going to be greedy, he might as well go all the way.
Satoru wants this. He wants them both. He wants this to work. Even if it’s not easy—even if it’s messy and strained and frayed at the edges. He’s sick and tired of compromise.
Satoru exhales. It’s a reflex, more than anything—muscle memory from a life where breathing meant something. Sukuna’s arm is slung over his waist, heavy and unyielding, like even unconsciousness hasn’t loosened his grip. Suguru’s there too, closer than Satoru realizes until he shifts and feels fingers curl more firmly into his sleeve, a quiet correction. Don’t go anywhere.
They fit together like this with an ease that still surprises him. Not perfectly. Not without edges. But close enough that the gaps don’t feel like failures.
Maybe that’s the trick of it. Not perfection—just adaptation. Learning where to press and where to yield. Satoru’s never been good at that. He’s always been an all-or-nothing kind of person. Strongest or useless. Win or lose. Alive or dead. This thing they’re doing doesn’t slot neatly into any of those categories.
It asks him to stay.
That’s new. Uncomfortable, in the way growth always is, even when it’s happening to someone who’s supposedly already finished changing. Eternity has a way of mocking the idea that you’re ever done. It stretches everything out, forces you to sit with what you’ve made instead of sprinting ahead of it.
Satoru has spent most of his existence being inevitable. A conclusion. Something people moved toward, braced for, planned around. This—whatever this is—feels fragile by comparison. Not weak. Just…dependent. On attention. On choice. On the three of them waking up, over and over again, and deciding not to walk away.
He hates how much that scares him.
The time bomb metaphor isn’t wrong. He feels it ticking when Sukuna’s temper snaps sharp and sudden, when Suguru goes quiet in that way that means he’s circling old regrets, when Satoru himself gets tired of being the axis everything turns on. There are too many wires crossing here. Too many histories pulling in opposite directions. Too many ways this could blow apart and leave nothing but silence behind.
And yet.
Sukuna shifts, annoyed even in sleep, and presses closer like Satoru’s the problem he’s solving. Suguru hums softly, breath warm against his shoulder, presence steady in a way that’s achingly familiar. Neither of them lets go. Neither of them pulls away.
The certainty hits Satoru all at once—sharp, bright, undeniable. Not that this will last forever. He’s not stupid enough to believe in guarantees anymore. But that it’s real. That it exists because they keep choosing it, even when it’s difficult, even when it would be easier not to.
Both or nothing was never a challenge. It was a line he drew and refused to erase.
Maybe that’s the difference now. In life, he barreled forward, convinced he could overpower any consequence. Here, he waits. He lets things remain unresolved. He allows the mess to exist without immediately trying to fix it.
For someone like him, that might be the bravest thing he’s ever done.
Satoru closes his eyes—not to sleep, exactly, but to linger. The stillness doesn’t feel so empty with them here, tangled and imperfect and breathing around him like they belong.
what happens when satoru gojo hears you thirsting over his dick? (18+)
you were one hundred percent sure you’d hung up.
so sure you didn’t even glance at your phone before tossing it onto the couch and collapsing beside your friends with a long, dramatic sigh.
“i swear,” you groaned, staring at the ceiling, “satoru gojo is a walking violation of human decency.”
one of your friends laughed. “you say that every single time.”
“well - that's because every time he opens his mouth, he flirts,” you shot back. “and i’m tired. you can’t be that tall, that pretty, and also have-” you paused, then said it plainly.
“-a huge dick.”
the room immediately exploded, a series of “oh my god.” “there it is.” “i knew this was coming.” to be heard.
“i’m serious!” you sat up, animated now. “it’s not even subtle. everything about him screams it. the confidence, the way he stands too close, the way his pants fit - like how am i expected to maintain eye contact when there is a whole other world down there?”
someone laughed so hard they wheezed. “didn’t you say it was-”
“yes,” you cut in immediately. “big. thick. veiny as if it has its own workout routine. obnoxious - it has its own gravitational pull too, i’d be soooo fucking mad at him one second - then i remember he’s walking around with that thing like it’s normal.”
you buried your face in your hands. “it’s unfair, it should come with a warning label.”
“and yet,” your friend teased, “you answer every call.”
“because he calls just to ask what i ate,” you groaned. “or to say he misses me. or to flirt for no reason. he doesn’t even say goodbye properly - did you know? he just hangs up like he owns me and honestly? with that dick? he kind of does.”
a beat, a horrible, damning beat.
then - “…wow.” - your entire body froze.
that voice. slowly, dread curling in your stomach, you turned toward the couch; your phone screen was still glowing, the call timer was still running.
you grabbed the phone with shaking hands. “sa- satoru.”
your friends lost their minds - screaming, laughing, one of them clutching the armrest like they were about to pass out.
there was silence on the other end for half a second, then he laughed.
low, slow. amused in a way that made your stomach flip even harder in shame and embarrassment.
“so,” he said smoothly, “this is what you say when you think i’m not around - good to know.”
“i-okay-wait-” you panicked. “i thought i hung up.”
“oh, i know,” he replied casually, you groaned and covered your face. “please tell me you didn’t hear-”
your friends were howling.
“i heard everything,” he interrupted, clearly enjoying himself now. “tall, pretty, huge dick, distracting pants situation, gravitational pull…”
“you also said,” he continued lightly, “that you can’t stay mad at me because you keep thinking about how big it is, isn't that right pretty?”
you made a sound that shouldn’t be human. “satoru!”
“what?” he said innocently. “i’m just repeating your words. very detailed words, by the way. you seemed… passionate.”
“i was venting!”
“you were describing,” he corrected. “very vividly.”
your friends made exaggerated gagging noises - you gasped. “you will not.”
heat flooded your cheeks as his tone softened, turning teasing and flirty.
“i could hear you smiling,” he added. “you always do when you pretend to complain about me and i'll bring this up at our wedding.”
“oh, absolutely,” he replied. “ ‘the moment i realized my partner spends a concerning amount of time thinking about my dick.’ it’s a great story.”
“do not say that out loud ever.”
“…i’m never living this down,” you muttered.
he laughed, warm and unbothered. “relax. i’m flattered. really.” your heart was racing now, embarrassment being tangled with something stupidly fond.
“nope,” he said gently. “but don’t worry. i’ll keep calling anyway.”
you exhaled. “… bye, satoru - for real this time.”
“mmm,” he hummed, voice dropping. “next time, though - make sure you actually hang up before praising my... assets.”
the call ended. you stared at your phone. then at your friends.
“…i’m changing my name and leaving the country.”
they were still laughing as you smiled - soft, absolutely doomed, and already aware he’d call again.
just then - your phone buzzed with a new message from satoru:
“don’t worry… i’ll make sure you get a proper label warning on it next time ;)”
CW/tags: noncon (w/ satosugu), dubcon (w/ Shoko), degradation, manipulation, sassy reader who gets her mind broken, fratboy!satosugu, college au, Eiffel Tower, tit sucking
Description: Your crush, Shoko, invites you to a frat party. She’s hard to say no to.
Thank you to @giveuponyourdreamanddie for the beta!!
As a rule of thumb, you avoided frat houses. Grossly sticky floors, loud, shitty music, and ugly Neanderthals with dicks for brains were so not your thing. No thank you.
So when your new friend Shoko says, “You have to come to the party my friends’ frat is throwing this weekend,” you almost say no. You open your mouth to break the news, when Shoko puts a casual hand on your leg and says, “I’d really like you to be there.”
You blush. You try not to, but it’s pointless.
The thing is, you have a crush on Shoko. It’s not like you’re in love, but it’s hard not to be obsessed with her. She’s so damn cool, with her dark hair and her smudgy eyeliner.
And she’s braless.
Her black top is pretty tight, too, with her nipples poking through. She’s smirking a little, like she knows what she’s doing. She probably does.
So of course you’ll say yes. That was decided the second Shoko put on that shirt.
“Sure,” you say with a tight smile. “I’ll come.”
“Great,” Shoko says, lighting her cigarette. You try not to stare at her mouth. “Party starts at 9. Wear something sexy.”
—
Your wardrobe mostly consists of plain jeans and sweats, but Shoko wants sexy, so you’re determined to pull out all the stops. You’re wearing cut-off denim shorts that barely cover your ass and a low-cut top with your favorite (and only) push-up bra, baring some cleavage. You really, really hope this is sexy enough.
Shoko said she’d meet you at the frat house. She sent you a text a few minutes ago: Already inside, it read. Can’t wait to see you ;)
A winky face. She must be high. Or she just wants you. The thought feels far-fetched, but it still makes your heart pitter-patter in your chest.
You march up to the door, steeling your nerves. You can hear music playing inside, but there aren’t many people around. Right now, there’s only two guys on the porch, sipping beer and talking in low voices. One has white hair, the other dark, like yin and yang. They’re pretty tall. Muscular. Hot, honestly. For frat guys.
You clear your throat. The guys turn. You try to ignore the way their gazes shamelessly roam your body. This is why I never go to frat parties, you think.
“There’s a party tonight, right?” you ask, shifting from foot to foot. “Like, at 9?”
“Yep,” the white-haired one says, grinning. He’s wearing sunglasses, you notice. At night. What a douchebag.
The dark-haired one with the bangs doesn’t smile. His eyes flick to your tits and back to your face. “It’s invite-only,” he says, expression unreadable.
“C’mon, Suguru,” his friend whines. “We can make an exception!”
You knit your eyebrows. “But my friend is in there. Shoko.”
They exchange glances.
“What do you think, Satoru?” Suguru asks.
“I think we should let her in.”
You don’t like the way he says it, all suggestive, like “let her in” is a euphemism for something else. You push your discomfort away. Shoko’s in there; you’ll be in the clear soon. All you’ve gotta do is get in the house.
They walk closer.
“Shit,” Satoru says, running a hand through his hair. “I forgot.”
Suguru raises an eyebrow. You frown.
“We have to search her,” he continues.
You scoff. “What for?”
Suguru hums. “You’re right,” he says. “We can’t have another incident.”
You smell bullshit. “Incident?”
“Yeah,” Satoru says. “The Great Frat House Incident of 2023. Tragic, really.”
“Very tragic,” Suguru says. “So —”
Satoru steps closer, peering at you over his sunglasses. His eyes are blue, you notice for the first time. Blue, piercing, and very, very eager.
“So we have to pat you down. Sorry,” he adds, sounding not very sorry at all.
You inch away. “I think I’ll just —”
“Shoko’s been talking about you all night,” Suguru cuts in.
You blink.
See, you and Shoko are friends, but… she’s kind of hard to pin down. Sometimes, you think she’s into you too, but she can act so aloof, you become convinced you dreamt it. Part of you hoped that something would finally happen between you two tonight, but you never admitted it aloud. To hear that she’s actually in there, and talking about you — well.
“Really?” you murmur.
“Oh yeah,” Satoru says. “Y/N, right? She talks about you nonstop.”
“She’s been so excited to see you,” Suguru adds. “It’d be a shame if we can’t let you in.”
You bite your lip. You’ve never heard of searching someone before a party before, but they said they’d had an incident, didn’t they? So…you suppose it makes sense. It isn’t the weirdest thing in the world. Plus, you guys are outside. There aren’t very many people on the street, sure, but these guys wouldn’t try anything with their neighbors potentially catching them, would they?
You take a deep breath. “Fine,” you say. “Just — be quick about it.”
Neither of them respond. Satoru steps in front of you, while Suguru moves behind.
“Do both of you need to be involved?” you grumble.
“Of course,” Suguru answers. You feel him touching your calves, slowly making his way upwards. He has soft hands, a delicate, deliberate touch.
“Why are you touching my — hey!”
Satoru grips your waist, running his fingers underneath your top. He lightly touches your midsection. Goosebumps prickle up and down your arms.
“What is it?” Satoru asks innocently.
Before you can respond, Suguru reaches your inner thighs. His thumb slides underneath the bottom of your shorts. You feel him graze your ass cheeks.
“This — this feels —”
“Good?” Suguru suggests. He squeezes your ass shamelessly. You jump.
“Invasive.”
Satoru laughs. “‘Invasive,’” he mimics, voice high-pitched and nasally. You hear Suguru snicker.
You glare at him, but it doesn’t do much. You’re the one in the skimpy outfit, getting felt up by two frat guys on their porch. You’ve strolled into the lions’ den.
“You’re not actually searching me,” you snap. “You’re just — you’re just groping me.”
Satoru grabs your tits. “This better?”
“Get off me!”
You try to worm out of there, but Suguru suddenly holds you tight from behind, keeping you in place. He’s half-hard against your lower back. It dawns on you then how much bigger they are than you, how helpless you are right now.
You freeze up, breath shallow. You’ve always hated this about yourself; when other people are faced with fear, they fight back, or else have the sense to run away. You’ve got neither. You just stay still and wait for it to be over.
Satoru takes full advantage of your weakness. Ever since he saw your tits spilling out of your tight, tiny top, he wanted to play with them. Most chicks get annoying at this part, trying to slap him or spit in his face, but not you. You seem to shut down. You melt in Suguru’s grasp.
He meets Suguru’s gaze over your head as he slowly pulls up your shirt, revealing a sexy, lacy red bra.
“What do you think?” Satoru asks him. “Could she be hiding anything in here?”
Suguru snakes a hand up your back and unsnaps your bra clasp. “Can’t hurt to check,” he replies.
Satoru reaches under your bra to grasp your tits. His hands feel rough and warm. “You gave up so easily,” he says in a low, teasing voice.
You want to curse him out. You want to kick him in the balls. But his hands are so possessive on your breasts, like he’s staking a claim on your body, and you feel your mind shutting down, slowly surrendering.
Suguru’s hand dips in between your legs. He runs a finger against the seam of your jeans, toying with your clit. You gasp. Your hips buck into his touch.
“Stop,” you mumble.
They laugh. You can’t blame them. It’s an entirely unconvincing defense when you’re humping Suguru’s hand.
“Is that all it takes,” Suguru whispers into your ear, “to turn you into a good slut?”
The pressure on your clit feels so good. Your empty, neglected cunt clenches around nothing.
“We should fuck you right here,” Satoru says. He keeps playing with your tits, squeezing and jiggling them in a way that’s so obviously for his benefit, it feels embarrassing. “I should fuck these tits. Put them to good use.”
“But she was so mouthy earlier,” Suguru says. He starts moving his hand in little circles, making you twitch and moan. You’re such a pathetic slut. You’re getting so wet, and they know it. What did you say earlier, about this being invasive? How can you argue that now, when you’re so obviously enjoying being their little plaything?
“You’re right,” Satoru says. “That’d be a good punishment. Stuff that bratty mouth with cock while you take her cunt from behind.”
Suguru slips a few fingers inside your shorts, teasing your clit over your panties. You’re soaking.
“No…” you say weakly, still rutting against his hand.
“You don’t get to say no,” Suguru says. “Not when you show up wearing something like this.”
Satoru pinches your nipples. You gasp and wince. “Say it,” he says.
“I…”
Their touch feels too good, overwhelming your senses. You’ve always been sensitive.
“Come on,” Satoru says, rolling your nipples in between his index fingers and thumbs. “You can do it.”
You don’t want to. You have to. Everything feels so fucking good. “I…I don’t get to say no,” you say. Your body goes limp. Satoru and Suguru hold you up, groping and teasing you.
“That’s it,” Suguru whispers. He mouths at your neck.
“Good slut,” Satoru says.
Suddenly, the door swings open. Relief floods through your body. Shoko.
“I told you guys to bring her inside,” Shoko says irritably. “What are you doing out on the porch like this?”
Satoru and Suguru both step away, chastised. You stumble, dazed. You don’t even try to put yourself back together. You stand there, with your tits out and your shorts rucked up, staring at Shoko in disbelief.
Shoko turns her gaze to you. She looks you up and down. “Get inside,” she says. “All of you.”
—
Shoko brings you to a bedroom. Satoru and Suguru try to follow you both inside, but Shoko stops them.
“You guys fucked up,” she says. “You stand outside and listen.”
She sounds so hot, all authoritative like that. You fall even deeper into your daze, like the three of them have cast a spell on you. You barely even notice that you’re still half-naked.
Shoko closes the door behind you two. “Get on the bed,” she orders.
You climb onto the bed, getting on all-fours. It feels natural to you. You want to present yourself to Shoko, show her how good and wet you are for her.
You hear Shoko scoff. “You give in so easily,” she mutters. She grabs the waistband of your shorts and yanks them off along with your panties, leaving you bare from the waist down. You shiver.
“They — they touched me,” you say, voice shaking.
“I know,” she says. She sounds disappointed. It makes you feel even more needy for her touch, more desperate to please her. “And you just let them, didn’t you?”
“N-no,” you say. “No no no.”
But she’s kind of right, isn’t she? You liked it when Suguru teased your pussy. You couldn’t get enough of it. You let Satoru play with your tits. You were basically a fuckdoll by the time they were done with you. You admitted to it, too. You would’ve let them claim your holes on the porch if that’s what they wanted. Wouldn’t you?
You whimper. Drool trickles from your mouth into the pillow. “Please,” you whimper. You don’t even know what you’re begging for.
Shoko slides a finger inside your cunt. You grip the sheets.
“I thought you were mine,” she says.
She sounds so, so disappointed. You almost want to cry. You push your hips onto her finger. You need to be filled up. You need to stop thinking.
Shoko takes her finger out, leaving you empty. You moan at the loss. Your eyes are wet with tears. “I am yours,” you say.
It’s true. You’ve been obsessed with her since you met her. You touch yourself thinking about her every night, chest squeezing with guilt and envy and need. You’re desperate to suck on those tits, to bury your head in between her legs. You’d hump her leg like a dog if she’d let you.
“Prove it,” she says.
“Anything,” you say quickly. “I’ll do anything.”
There’s a beat of silence. You stay still. You want to be good for her.
Then Shoko opens the door.
“Wait —” you say, lifting your head, but a hand pushes your face into the pillow.
“You got my friends all worked up,” Shoko says from above you. “Satisfy them, and then we’ll see what you can do for me.”
“But —”
“You said it earlier, didn’t you?” Suguru says from somewhere behind you. You hear him unbuckle his belt. Your heart pounds in your chest. Shoko strokes your hair. “You don’t get to say no.”
You glance up at Shoko. She’s looking from him to you, pupils dilated, eyes glazed over with lust. She’s really into this. She loves seeing how far you’d go to please her.
You don’t know it, but she does this often, bringing playthings for her friends to use while she watches. You’re her favorite by far.
Suguru pulls you by your hips to the edge of the bed. Your feet dangle off. You yearn for Shoko’s touch. You feel the blunt head of his cock press against your cunt. “Are you just gonna watch, Satoru?” he says.
Satoru kneels on the bed in front of you. “Fuck no.” He yanks your head up by your hair and pushes his cock into your mouth.
“So fucking impatient,” Suguru breathes. He presses into you.
You prefer girls, so your experience with cocks is limited. But you’re sure that they’re big, from the way you’re completely filled on both ends. Your mouth and pussy are stretched to their limits. Tears stream down your face. You grab Satoru’s thighs for stability. You glance up at him, silently begging for mercy, but his eyes are locked on Suguru.
“How does her pussy feel?” he asks breathlessly. He slowly thrusts in and out of your mouth. You sputter on his big cock.
“So fucking good,” Suguru says. He matches Satoru’s pace. It feels like they’re pushing you back and forth.
“What do you say?”
You glance at Shoko out of the corner of your eye. She’s leaning against the wall, teasing her nipples, watching you intently.
Satoru’s hips stutter. He starts moving faster, choking you with his cock, bouncing you back onto Suguru’s dick. Suguru is pressed up against your cervix, drawing little whimpers from you.
“Thank you, Shoko,” Satoru gasps as he uses your pretty mouth. The lipstick you put on for Shoko’s benefit is smeared around his length.
“Gonna cum already?” Suguru teases.
“If you keep looking at me like that…”
Suguru groans.
You get the feeling that they’re using your body to jack off, like you’re nothing more than a fleshlight. Satoru reaches down to grope one of your tits. “Stay still,” he hisses at you. “Let — fuck — let Suguru come in that cunt.”
You glance at Shoko again. She’s biting her lip, touching herself over her jeans, peering at you through half-lidded eyes. Your pussy involuntarily squeezes Suguru’s length at the sight.
“Fuck,” Suguru moans. “I’m not gonna last.”
“You don’t have to,” Shoko says. Her voice sounds breathy, verging on a moan. She loves watching you get fucked like this. She’s getting close. “She’s here to make you feel good. You can do whatever you want.”
That seems to do it for them. They surge forward, crushing you in between them, forcibly arching your back. You hear them kissing as they quickly thrust in and out of you, filling your throat and cunt with cum. Distantly, you hear Shoko moaning as she finishes herself, but you barely register it, focused on swallowing Satoru’s load.
Finally, they let you go. You collapse onto the bed. Cum trickles down your chin and inner thighs.
Satoru gets off the bed. You hear them kissing still. Like this was a hot mutual masturbation session.
“Get a room,” you hear Shoko say disdainfully.
“Don’t act like you didn’t come just from watching us,” Satoru says. Suguru laughs. You try to take deep breaths.
“Whatever,” Shoko says. “Seriously, give us some space. I want to be alone with her.”
Alone with Shoko. You nearly cry from joy and relief.
Satoru — or maybe it’s Suguru — says something after that, but you barely hear it. You can’t hear anything over your heart. Shoko Shoko Shoko.
The door closes behind them. You’re left alone, used and broken, with Shoko once again. The bed creaks as she sits next to you, taking your head into her lap.
“You did so well,” she coos.
“Shoko, I can’t…”
“Shh.” She pets your hair. “How did that feel?”
It felt awful. It felt so good. You whimper and rub your thighs together.
“That was really hot,” she continues. “You know that?”
You lean into her touch. You feel like her puppy. The thought makes you hot in between your legs.
“Shoko —” you start.
She silences you with a kiss. You quiver and shake, eagerly pressing your mouth against hers. You’ve wanted this for so long. Her lips feel so soft and warm.
She gently pushes you back down onto her lap. “Do you want to come?”
“Yes.”
She lifts up her top, revealing her plump, perfect breasts. You inhale sharply.
“You can suck on them while you touch yourself,” she says.
You whine — you want her to touch you. She tuts, like she knows what you’re thinking. “I’m not touching a slut,” she says, “who’ll let anyone play with her body.”
You want to cry. You didn’t want those guys to touch you, but…it felt good, hadn’t it? You suddenly feel tremendously guilty, for letting them make you feel good like that. Shoko should be the only one to make you feel good.
“I won’t let them do it again,” you say, kissing and kneading her breasts. You’re no better than Satoru was.
“I know you won’t,” she says, guiding you to her nipple. You lick and suck on it. She moans softly. “Just… I can’t let that slide. I have to punish you. Just this once.”
It’s only fair. You move your mouth to her other breast, hand sliding in between your legs. You’re already close to orgasm. You feel Suguru’s cum drip out of your freshly fucked pussy.
“You’re always staring at my tits,” she says. “I bet this is like a dream come true for you. Pervert.”
You hump your hand, nodding quickly in agreement. Yes, it’s true, you are a pervert, you don’t deserve more than this.
You can feel the pressure building. You’re so grateful that Shoko is letting you near her. You feel so, so lucky to be her toy. You’ll let anyone use your body if it means sucking on her beautiful tits afterwards.
“I can’t believe you’re close,” she continues condescendingly. “Are you gonna come just from this?”
You nod again. You back away, freeing your mouth to speak. Your hand moves faster. “I — I won’t come without permission if —”
She shoves your face back onto her tit. “Do it,” she orders.
You come on command like the good whore she’s turned you into. The orgasm tears through your body, leaving you weak. You gasp and moan against her tits. Your eyes squeeze shut.
When you come to, Shoko pulls her shirt down. She cups your face gently. “You’re perfect,” she tells you.
gojo is a freak in the best way- cocky, overpowered sorcerer by day, but when it comes to you? the man’s a certified addict for dry humping. he swears he could bust just from grinding on your clothed pussy, no penetration needed.
“it’s the tease, baby” he’d say with that shit eating grin, like it’s some profound wisdom.
“why rush when the build-up’s this fucking hot?” you’d roll your eyes, call him dramatic, but deep down you know he’s serious- last time he proved it by cumming in his pants like a horny teen, laughing about it after like “oops, guess i’m that into you.”
tonight’s no different. you’re on the couch, some movie forgotten, his tall frame draped over yours as he pins you down with those strong thighs.
his lips crash into yours- messy and hungry, tongue shoving deep like he’s trying to devour you whole. “fuck, you taste so good” he groans against your mouth, hips already rolling slow and deliberate, his hard needy cock pressing through his sweats against your thin panties.
“satoru— slow down” you gasp, but he just chuckles low, that needy edge in his voice making your cunt throb.
“can’t, baby. need to feel you— shit, your pussy’s so warm even like this.” he grinds harder, the friction building heat between you, his fat bulge dragging right over your clit with every thrust.
you’re soaking through the fabric already, panties sticking messy to your folds, and he knows it. feels it. because he moans like a whore, breath hot on your neck.
“look at you, getting all wet for me without even taking my cock,” he praises, voice rough and teasing, blue eyes locked on yours. “you do love my dick that much, huh— fuck, you’re gonna make me cum just humping this pretty cunt.”
his pace picks up, hips snapping with lewd slaps of fabric on fabric. he’s huge— even clothed, you feel every veiny inch rubbing against you, the outline of his tip catching your entrance through the layers, teasing like he’s about to push in but never does.
sweat slicks his white hair to his forehead, muscles flexing under his shirt as he ruts like an animal in heat.
“s-shit- toru i’m gonna-” you whine, nails digging into his back, but he cuts you off with a filthy kiss, sucking on your tongue while he grinds circles right on your swollen clit.
“yeah? cum for me, baby- cream on these panties while i hump you stupid.” his words are breathy, and he’s right there with you— cock throbbing, leaking precum that soaks through his sweats onto yours, making everything sloppier, wetter.
“fuck, i love this... your pussy clenching on nothing, begging for me. you want me to put this dick in you that bad, angel? you gotta cum for me first, yeah?”
that did it.
you came hard, crying out his name as your orgasm hits hard, hips bucking up into his, soaking the fabric even more. he curses under his breath “fuck fuck fuck” and follows right after, grinding erratic as he unloads in his pants, hot cum spurting in thick ropes that seep through, mixing with your mess.
he doesn’t stop— keeps humping through the aftershocks, smearing the sticky cum between you, kissing you deep and hungry. “see? told you i could cum without fucking you proper,” he murmurs, smug but still breathy, cock twitching like he’s ready for round two.
“but don’t worry, baby. its not like we’re done yet, right? take this off for me, need to fuck my pussy now.” he said as he was sliding your panties down your legs.
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˖ ࣪૮₍ 𝓑.𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐉𝐎 𓂃 ⭒ bounces you on his cock cause he thinks you're stupid
⤿ ꒰ he's always seen you as nothing but a stupid, pretty girl :: college au :: slight angst :: smut :: mean satoru :: degradation :: f. oral :: fingering :: riding :: dumbification :: overstimulation ꒱
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ has been your worst nightmare since highschool. belittling you, shaming you, making you feel like you were the dirt beneath his shoe. unlike other bullies, he didn't have to push you around and slam you into lockers to make your gut twist. no, all he had to do was toss you a smug smirk over his shoulder whenever your mathematics exams were handed back. his red-circled A++ crumpling your hopes into your measly B-. you thought things would be different in college.
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ was nothing if not dedicated. to his valedictorian status and his relentless belittling. hell, the second you stepped foot into your quantum physics class— he scoffed. then grinned as you reluctantly made your way to the only empty seat. . . right beside him. “my, what's the bimbo doing here? daddy's money must be doing wonders.”
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ rolled his eyes as he passed by you in the hallway and saw you talking up a male classmate. muttering under his breath, “no wonder your grades are falling.” only to send you a wink when he catches your crestfallen look.
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ was not impressed when you were both paired for an assignment together. he actively tried to protest against the professor, but soon settled for it. before you knew it, he was in your dorm and grumbling over a textbook. shuffling over his laptop with an cooing tongue click and condescending head tilt. “aww. you really don't get it, do you?” then grinned mockingly as you shook your head with big eyes and a trembling lip. “silly girl. looks like I'll be carrying us again.”
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ rolled his eyes when you came to him all teary because— he was right. your grades were slipping. hell, you never wanted to be in astrophysics. your parents forced you. and now here you were with a crumpled up paper in your hands and crying to your bully, begging him to tutor you. he agreed with slumped shoulders and a groaning, “fine, whatever. just don't waste my time.”
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ was awful the entire time, no matter how hard you tried. he'd explain things that your brain couldn't process and lecture you when you wouldn't get it. and when he had enough of your tears? he snatched your chin, thumb swiping below your eye. “stop it.” he muttered. “stop it. stop crying. you can't help that you're stupid, now can you?” and when you didn't? well. . . let's just say he was inclined to make you cry in a more pleasurable way.
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ soon enough, had you sprawled over the table. textbooks and stationary strewn all over as he thumbs on the soaked fabric between your quivering thighs. creating a perfect friction against your trembling clit as you bucked and whined into him. another hand dwarfed your inner thigh as he pressed it down, keeping you wide open with a grinning, “now what did I say? keep those legs open for me. you can do that, right? not too dumb for that?”
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ took great pleasure in making you pay for wasting his time. he sucked on your clit through your panties until they were drenched with his saliva and your messy cum. allowing you to grip his hair only when he yanked your panties down and latched his mean mouth onto your pussy. licking, suckling, ruining you on his tongue while he glared at you from over his glasses. “suuuchhh a slut,” he huffed, fogging his spectacles. “no wonder those grades are slipping.”
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ fingered you open with two long digits. lips fixed to your clit and assaulting it with his tongue as he surged you through yet another sticky orgasm. fingers slow, steady and cruel while his mouth was ravenous. switching between your slit and throbbing nub. doubling down when you clung to his hair and whimpered out his name. he wouldn't admit to how hard he throbbed when you whined it like that. instead he dragged his tongue from your slit to your clit and groaned into the stringy mess.
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ leaned back into the chair and let you bounce on his cock. it was the least you could do after wasting his time, right? “stupid girl,” he huffed, swallowing a groan as he tweaked on your nipple. grinding his hips up filthily. once, twice, until you were clinging to his shoulders and humping on him like a pitiful slut. he clicked his tongue and watched as your pussy stretched. squelching and squirming all over him. “maybe you should just drop out, huh? drop out and be a slut for a living. you're better at it.” as he spanked! your ass. then gripped tight.
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ who toppled you over him when your bounces became weak grinds. hands fisting your ass and squeezing you on his thick cock as he pounded up until you were whining and drooling in his ear. leaving behind a gooey ring of cream round his base and bubbling your webbed mess all over. his name was on your lips like a lewd prayer. desperate pleas and whines as his pubic bone caught your clit with every rough slam. “just can't do anything right, can you sweetheart? fuck, stupid little girl with the prettiest pussy.”
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ lost himself when you creamed him for the nth time that day. a hand fixed to the back of your neck as he rolled his hips up in jagged thrust. making you whimper. squirm. and all he did? grin. “there ya go. that's it. take it. fucking. take it.”
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ was not prepared for your lips crashing onto his. for your hands clinging to his hair and your whines spilling into his mouth. and most definitely not for your spluttered little: "I love you— I love you satoru— toru, toru I love you, I love you!”
꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ had to leave the second he'd cleaned you up and tucked your sleeping form into bed. stumbling back to his dorm, slamming his door shut. he white knuckled the counter and hunched over. heart pounding in his ears as he replayed your words over, and over again. I love you. I love you satoru. he scrubbed a hand down his face. cupped his mouth and nose as he breathed heavily, then looked into the mirror. hair disheveled. eyes puffy. no, no, no no no no no. what the fuck did he just do?
pathetically, you smother down a whimper under naoya zen’in’s palm, hips arching off of the brick wall he’s got you pinned against. glaring at you through those piercing chestnut eyes, he drops his hand from your face and mutters a scowl, fixing his attention back between the apex of your thighs. two fingers, thick and calloused thanks to years of training, attempt to coax an orgasm from your fluttering hole, dragging down your gummy walls and pressing into your g-spot tirelessly.
you try to keep quiet, but the heir of the zenin clan doesn’t make it easy—lips suctioned to that sweet spot under your jaw, a palm splayed against the purchase of your waist with an unfamiliar yet tender hold, his thumb massaging your engorged clit.
“someone might s-see us,” you scramble against his towering form, peering past his shoulder and gawking in the broad daylight. but naoya just knocks a knee between your thighs to keep them apart and pushes you against the wall harder, ensuring you can’t move.
“i practically run this place,” he mutters against your skin, the smug grin playing at his lips evident in his voice. “think they care that i’m toying with a fucking servant?” his fingers dig further into your slick wetness, your eyes rolling back from just how deep he’s managed to reach inside of you, thighs quaking numb.
the thrust of his digits are calculated and precise, stroking friction against all the spots that make you keen, maw hanging slack. “fucking whore,” he grunts, tone dangerously low and sending sparks darting down your spine. “creaming on my fingers when i’ve got an engagement ceremony in just under a month,” he huffs out in disdain, but his hardened cock pressing against the plush of your thigh tells you just how much this infidelity is getting him going.
his normalized dehumanizing of women across the estate is grating—and the sole reason you put up with his prodding instead of pressing a whetted blade against his jugular is how well his hands tend to your sexual frustrations. and the very plausible case of your execution.
“you’ve—hck!—yet to met her, my lord,” you mutter, bringing a hand up to fist his hair and crash your lips against his. teeth clink and noses brush desperately, painfully. he swallows down all the sounds he knocks out of you before you pull away to gasp, disgust coiling at your lips. “the matter and fault of your unfaithfulness does not lie in my hands.”
naoya drags you to the training fields and fucks you into the dirt behind a stone, your back digging into dirt and sprig with your skirt hiked up to your midriff. the man, soon to be wedded, is entirely confident that he’ll be free to do as he wishes once he creates an alliance with a nearby clan through the matrimony, however what he cannot handle is the hold your sweet, servant cunt has on him.
maybe, in time, he’ll just turn you into his mistress.
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