Jinn

nerd!gojo who binges porn almost every night imagining it’s you riding him until he cries. he cums so hard to the thought of your voice moaning his name that he has to muffle himself with a pillow.

nerd!gojo who definitely pulled strings to get into the same project group as you. thought he’d finally get to talk to you outside of class. instead you show up once, scroll on your phone for ten minutes, don’t even look at him, then bounce. he sits there with pouty face, telling himself it’s fine.

nerd!gojo who realizes pretty fast that you’re galaxies out of his league. you’re always surrounded by hot guys, pretty people, the kind who get invited to parties he’d never step foot in. he realizes you’d rather eat glass than breathe the same air as him. accepts it. cries about it in the shower anyway.

nerd!gojo who’s been pathetically, hopelessly in love with you for over two years now. you don’t even know his name half the time unless someone literally points him out. meanwhile you’re hopping from dick to dick like it’s a sport and he’s just the background character jerking off to the thought of being one of them.

nerd!gojo who almost has a heart attack when you actually walk up to him after class and ask if he’s free to “tutor” you. his brain short-circuits. he stammers, blushes red, blurts out some cheesy line so you won't think he's boring.

nerd!gojo whose heart jackhammers so hard he thinks it’s gonna crack a rib when you suggest grabbing food first. he can’t sit still in the cafe as he keeps fidgeting, leg bouncing, palms sweaty, because every time you lean forward your tits press together and he has to grip the table to keep from whimpering.

nerd!gojo who’s so painfully dumb about you that when you get to his house he genuinely thinks you’re there to study. pulls out textbooks, notes, starts explaining like his life depends on it. doesn’t clock the way you’re staring at his mouth, his hands, his lap—too busy trying not to cum in his pants from your perfume alone.

nerd!gojo who finally starts to catch on when you ask him to “demonstrate” male anatomy with “practical examples.” his face goes scarlet, cock throbbing so hard it hurts, but he’s still half-convinced this is some prank until you drag the zipper of your top down and your tits nearly spill out right in front of his face.

nerd!gojo who nearly blacks out when you spread your slick folds right in front of him like it’s a goddamn porn tutorial, legs wide on his bed, asking “will this help?” while your pussy glistens like sin. his hand’s already shaking on his cock, fighting not to bust right then.

nerd!gojo who’s trying so fucking hard not to cum early, biting his lip bloody, eyes glued to your dripping cunt like it’s the only thing keeping him alive because he can't believe you're in his room and on his bed.

nerd!gojo who loses the battle anyway, jerks himself fast and desperate, cumming all over his knuckles like a pathetic loser while whining your name under his breath, cheeks burning red because he can’t even last looking at you.

nerd!gojo who genuinely thinks he’s about to die when you climb on top, grab his still-leaking cock, and rub the swollen head through your folds, teasing him with filthy whispers before sinking down slow and tight.

nerd!gojo who cums embarrassingly fast seconds after he’s buried inside you, thick ropes flooding your pussy, hips jerking, eyes rolling back because holy fuck it’s better than every porn clip he’s ever jerked to.

nerd!gojo whose face completely changes after that second load—puppy eyes gone dark and hungry. he flips you onto your back, folds you into a perfect mating press sinking his dick into your wet heat.

nerd!gojo who finally unleashes years of pent-up obsession, fucking into you like he’s trying to carve his name inside your cunt. every thrust slams deep, cum from before squelching out around his cock, and he keeps filling you with his cum again and again until you’re overflowing.

nerd!gojo who gets rock-hard for the fourth time that night because he literally can’t get enough—cock twitching back to life while he’s still buried in you, mumbling “just one more, please” like a man possessed.

nerd!gojo who treats your body like a porn buffet, trying every position he’s ever jerked off to, eyes wide and frantic, chasing which one makes you scream his name loudest.

nerd!gojo who fucks you straight through the night until your vision blurs and your legs give out, passing out mid-thrust on his ruined sheets while he’s still whimpering into your neck.

nerd!gojo who’s a total little shit even in his sleep as he curls around you like a koala, latches his mouth onto your tit, and suckles softly while he drifts off, arms locked around your waist like he’s scared you’ll vanish.

nerd!gojo who wakes up panicked and almost cries when he finds the bed empty. spends ten minutes convinced the whole night was a fever dream, his dick still half-hard from the memory.

nerd!gojo who drags himself to class heartbroken, eyes red and puffy, until he spots you in your usual seat. lights up like the sun for half a second—then crashes when you don’t even glance his way.

nerd!gojo who nearly dies of happiness when you slip that tiny note onto his desk: “6 PM. Your place.” heart hammering so loud he’s sure everyone can hear it, already kicking his feet under the desk.

nerd!gojo who waits like an overexcited puppy, door open before you even knock, blushing and stammering while he sets out trays of cinnamon rolls, pastries, hot chocolate, all his favorite sweets like he’s trying to bribe you to stay.

nerd!gojo who gets a little sad but instantly horny when you cut through the sweetness and say “no wasting time,” pulling him on top of you and kissing up his neck like you own him.

nerd!gojo who swears your tits are the best thing he’s ever seen in his life as he slides his leaking cock between them, groaning like he’s dying while you tease his slit with kitten licks until he cums hard all over your chest, painting you like a canvas.

nerd!gojo who loses his fucking mind after that—fucks you like the world’s ending, flipping you through every porn position he’s ever bookmarked: missionary, doggy, mating press, face-down ass-up, spooning so he can whisper filthy praises in your ear.

nerd!gojo who’s a sneaky, greedy little shit—fucks you senseless until you black out on his sheets, then quietly snaps pics while you’re passed out, his mouth latched on your tit, his cheek smushed against your pussy, his cock nestled between your tits still leaking. saves every single one to his secret folder, heart racing because he knows you’d literally murder him if you ever found out.

nerd!gojo who’s been floating on cloud nine lately because you show up at his place every single day now. his cock, his puppy eyes, his desperate moans must be that fucking good, because you keep coming back like you’re addicted too.

nerd!gojo who’s fine, almost, with being your secret dick appointment as long as he gets to be with you. but he still craves more, so he tries to suck a dark hickey on your neck where everyone can see. but it backfires when you snap and threaten to ghost him for good if he pulls that shit again. he pouts like a kicked puppy for hours, his heart stinging.

nerd!gojo who completely loses it the first day you don’t show up. paces his room like a caged animal, shivering, stomach in knots, texting you paragraphs, calling until it goes straight to voicemail. anxiety chews him alive—did something happen? did you finally get sick of him? is this it?

nerd!gojo who spends the whole night curled in bed, eyes red, whispering “please come back” to the empty pillow that still smells like you, terrified you’ve abandoned him for good.

nerd!gojo who drags himself to class the next day hoping to see you, lights up when he spots your seat—then crashes when it’s empty again. days drag on like this. he finally breaks, corners your friends after lecture even though he knows you’d hate it, voice cracking as he asks “have you seen y/n?”

nerd!gojo who cries himself to sleep every night now, scrolling through those secret photos of you passed out on his bed—soft, vulnerable, his. the only proof you were ever real. studies forgotten, hobbies dead, just him and his broken heart and your ghost in his sheets.

nerd!gojo who almost stops breathing when you finally walk into class after days of nothing. he bolts up, runs to you like a moth to flame, only to get hit with your coldest tone—“what do you want, Gojo?”—like he’s a stranger. like the nights you screamed his name never happened.

nerd!gojo who sits through the rest of lecture suffocating, overhearing your friends chatter about a party tonight, about some guy you used to fuck who’s gonna be there, how you “always had a thing for him.” jealousy and sadness twist in his gut until he can’t take it—storms out, chair screeching, eyes damp.

nerd!gojo who disappears after that. goes straight home, collapses on his bed, cries until his throat’s raw and his eyes are swollen shut, heart bleeding out because he finally lost the one thing that made him feel alive.

nerd!gojo who has zero pride left when it comes to you—misses you so bad it’s physical pain. tracks down the party address like a desperate stalker, shows up shaking, just to see you, to beg, to breathe the same air.

nerd!gojo whose entire world rips in half when he peeks through the cracked door and sees you pressed against the wall, some guy’s mouth on yours, hands everywhere. he stands there frozen, tears streaming, watching like the pathetic fucking loser he’s always been afraid he is.

read the full fic here

“Oh, oh—try that mango one. mango makes everything better,” Gojo says, tugging lightly at your sleeve. “like, imagine it melting on your cunt while someone’s fingering you. so hot.”

You suck in a breath, eyes going wide. “t-toru!”

He just chuckles, shameless and unbothered, then leans down to whisper near your ear, “or do you prefer chocolate? because, bunny dipped in chocolate is a combo I’d pay for.”

You try not to combust on the spot. Nanami exhales deeply. “stop talking.”

Just then, a voice calls out from across the street, smooth and playful. “kento~!” Nanami turns, brows furrowed. Gojo does too.

And then her voice registers. You look just in time to see her. Tall, elegant, maybe in her early thirties, blonde waves swept back in a high twist, a sharp black blazer hugging her curves. Red lipstick. High heels. A smile that could kill.

Gojo whistles low. “damn. older women are always a blessing for my pretty eyes…”

You go quiet. Nanami's expression softens the second recognition hits. He smiles back, actually smiles and lifts a hand in greeting.

“Sweetheart,” he says gently to you, touching your shoulder. “pick something you like, hmm? I’ll be back in a minute.”

Your lips part to reply, but he's already walking across the street, not even waiting for it. Your heart sinks a little. Just a little.

Gojo keeps talking, mostly to himself. “you think she spanks men for fun? she gives off that boss lady vibe. shit, I’d let her tell me to sit, and I’d bark. proudly.”

You blink at him, mouth twitching, but your eyes keep slipping across the road. Nanami’s posture is relaxed, he’s not usually like that. The two of them talk, and she laughs, her hand brushing his forearm.

“Maybe I should get the vanilla,” you murmur, too soft.

"Mhmm you sure you're a vanilla girl?" Gojo smirks. He picks up a sample spoon, dips it into the pistachio, licks it once, then makes a face. “nah. that’s a bad head flavor. you want something creamy. like hazelnut. Or caramel. something that melts easy. so when it drips on your cunt, I can just lick…” he mimics licking it off his wrist.

You squeak, tugging at his shirt. “satoru… there are kids here…”

“These are life lessons,” he retorts with a wink.

Your attention drifts back across the road. Nanami’s laughing now. You pout slightly, eyes burning even though you tell yourself it’s nothing. Just an old friend. An ex, maybe. He’d never said. He wasn’t the type to hide things, but still… When they hug, something inside you twists. And then he’s coming back, straightening his sleeves, walking towards you.

“Have you picked?” he asks, voice smooth, eyes on you. You nod, pointing weakly to the blueberry cheesecake. Gojo hums something under his breath. You catch the words “lick” and “cream” but don’t want to ask. Nanami pays after a battle with Gojo.

You’re too quiet now, licking the corner of your spoon as you three begin walking home. Gojo talks enough for all three of you, arm slung lazily around your shoulders. You keep sneaking glances at Nanami, trying not to think of her laugh. The way he smiled at her. And beside you, Gojo’s fingers tap-tap along your shoulder, his voice low and smug.

The walk back home is filled with low chatter, Gojo is talking a mile a minute about some theory that somehow ties back to boobs and ice cream, but you don’t catch most of it. You’re quiet. Too quiet. Your fingers curl tighter around the paper cup in your hands, the ice cream inside mostly melted now. It tastes sweet on your tongue, but your expression doesn't match. You’re trying not to pout. Really, you are. But every time the image of that woman hugging Nanami flashes behind your eyes, something in your chest just drops. Gojo glances down at you as you trail beside him, head a little low.

“Hey, bunny,” he nudges you gently with his elbow. “you okay?”

You nod quickly.

“…didn’t like the ice cream, huh?”

You blink up at him. “no, it’s not that.”

“You’re pouting,” he says in your ear.

“I’m not,” you whisper back, even though you definitely are. Nanami slows his steps until he’s walking on your other side, eyes narrowing as he watches you. You don't meet his gaze.

“You cold?” he asks, already unzipping his coat.

You shake your head, but your voice betrays you. “I’m fine.”

He doesn’t listen, wrapping his coat over your shoulders anyway, hands lingering on your arms for a second longer than needed. The warmth makes you sink into the fabric without thinking.

“Thank you…” you murmur.

“You're quiet,” he says under his breath, like he’s filing that thought away.

When you reach the apartment, the door creaks open to the familiar scent of home. The living room is dim. Toji’s passed out on the couch, one arm draped over his face, mouth open slightly. Geto’s door is shut, faint music playing behind it. You toe off your shoes quietly, still wrapped in Nanami’s coat.

Gojo, of course, doesn’t know how to be quiet. The moment you try to step into your room, he squeezes in right behind you. “hey, hey—don’t shut me out. I missed you.”

“I was with you this morning, though,” you whisper, glancing at Nanami over your shoulder.

Gojo grins. “yeah, when you were bouncing on my cock and making the prettiest little sobs I’ve ever heard. doesn’t count as ‘quality time’.”

Your face turns crimson. “satoruu!!!”

He steps closer, arms ready to wrap around you, when Nanami grabs the back of his collar and yanks him out of your doorway like a misbehaving mutt.

Gojo stumbles back into the hallway. “HEY! RUDE.” Nanami slips inside your room and closes the door behind him firmly.

Gojo starts a full-blown tantrum outside. “you two are selfish! I offer free love and look what I get! used and thrown away like fuckin' trash—”

“Gojo, bed. now.” Nanami snaps.

Gojo groans. “ughhhh. fiiine. just so you know, this is why I’m emotionally distant with men.” You hear him muttering something about being “underappreciated” as he stomps off to his room.

The door clicks softly behind him. Now it’s quiet. Nanami exhales, hands loosening as he approaches you. His eyes are softer now, searching your face. “did you enjoy the ice cream?”

You hesitate, then nod.

He steps closer. “you sure you’re alright… from last night?”

You glance down at your legs, where his grip had bloomed purple over your skin. You nod again, more firm this time. “I’m okay,” you whisper.

He cups your face gently and kisses you deep, warm, lips pressing slow like he means it. You lean into him without thinking, letting his hand slide to your back. When he pulls away, his voice is low. “alright, sweetheart. get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He starts toward the door. Your heart panics, speaking before you think, with trembling voice. “..uhmm… nanami?”

He pauses, hand on the knob, looking over his shoulder. “yeah, baby?”

You shuffle in place, wringing your fingers. “I… uhh… can… can we… I-I wanna…”

His brows lift slightly as he turns to face you fully. “hmm?”

Your throat goes dry. “I wanna… do it.”

His expression shifts, amusement curving his lips, but his voice stays warm. “Oh?” he hums, stepping toward you again. “are you saying you want me to fuck you, dear?”

You nod once, face burning. He tilts your chin up with two fingers. “who am I to say no to that?”

He kisses you again, deeper, his tongue slow and thorough like he’s savoring the shape of your mouth. Then, he lifts you gently and lays you across your bed. His hands unbutton your top carefully like he’s unwrapping something rare.

“Such a shy little thing…” he murmurs, dragging his fingers down your chest. “but look at you asking for my cock. you must’ve missed it, hmm?”

You whimper softly. “… yeah.”

He smiles. “then I’ll give it to you. nice and slow.”

The room fills with soft gasps and the shuffle of fabric. Nanami’s mouth maps every inch of your skin, tongue warm, lips dragging over your neck, collarbone, breasts, thighs. He kisses every bruise he left before.

“Sorry,” he whispers each time. “you were too good… couldn’t help myself.”

He doesn’t fuck you. Not yet. First, he worships you. Hands firm on your thighs, spreading you, he licks your cunt like a man starved, slow and precise, tongue swirling around your clit, letting your moans get louder and messier until you’re writhing and clinging to the sheets. Only then does he finally slide into you inch by slow inch, watching your face the whole time.

“You always take me so well,” he breathes, groaning against your neck. “so tight like your pussy doesn’t wanna let me go.”

You’re gasping, arms around his shoulders, every stroke making your mind blur. His hips move slow and deep, kissing the ache in your belly. His hand sneaks between your legs to rub you just right, making you cry out.

“Shh, shh… I got you,” he whispers. “you’re doing so good, baby.”

By the end, your skin is slick with sweat, your thighs trembling, every nerve burning in the best way. He stays buried inside you as you both pant for air, foreheads pressed together. Then, he pulls out and gathers you close, arms snug around your waist. You’re tucked in his chest, your leg thrown over his, fingers tracing small circles on his ribs.

“…Nanamin, can I… ask you something?”

His voice was still thick with post-orgasm bliss, low and soft against your temple. "oh? what is it, dear? need something? water?"

You shook your head slowly, cheek still pressed to his chest where you could hear the steady beat of his heart. "... do you like my hair?"

He blinked, pulling back slightly to look down at you, brows slightly furrowed. "huh? yeah, baby—of course I do. your hair's just as pretty as you. why ask me that all of a sudden?"

You avoided his eyes, fiddling with a strand of your hair nervously. "nothing, just..." you mumbled, "I was wondering if I should colour it."

Nanami hummed and brought a hand to your head, threading his fingers through your hair and tugging you closer until your chest brushed against his. "hmm? why, baby? I mean, if you want to, of course. what colour do you have in mind, hmm?" he asked, voice turning warm again as he tilted his head and nuzzled into your chest. He licked over your nipple suddenly, making you jerk slightly.

"Ahhh! nghh... uhmm... do you think I’d look prettier in blonde?"

He paused to press a kiss against your tit, then glanced up. "blonde? hmm. well, I think black suits your eyes more, makes you look soft and sweet."

Another slow lick over your nipple. "but yeah, you’d still be pretty in blonde. you’d look pretty with anything."

You blinked down at him. "Ohh... hmm... okay..."

He raised an eyebrow, then chuckled softly. "why sweetheart? did gojo ask you to colour your hair?"

You quickly shook your head, lips pressing together. Nanami smirked and leaned up to kiss your lips, a slow, lingering kiss that soothed your nerves. You gently pulled away, slipping from the bed, naked still, as your eyes caught sight of his coat on the table. You padded over, slipped it over your shoulders, and hugged the fabric close. Nanami sat up on the bed, admiring the view with a soft groan.

"Nanamin… do I look good in this?"

His eyes dragged over you hungry and admiring, as he huffed a little laugh. "In a blazer? course, yeah. you look like a boss lady who’s about to ruin a man’s life."

You blushed a little, biting your lip. "s-so… does this style suit me more?"

He narrowed his eyes, sensing the undertone in your voice. "you look good in everything, baby. no matter what you wear."

You hesitated, then mumbled, "but... do you like this type of dress more than… my usual?"

Nanami stood, walking over to you completely naked, still semi-hard and completely unbothered by it. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in. "I didn’t say that," he kissed your forehead. "I said you always look pretty. whatever you wear."

You stared up at him with wide eyes before dragging him back to bed and slowly sitting on his lap, facing him skin to skin now, his cock twitching against your thigh. You curled your arms around his neck.

"Can I ask you something again?" you asked quietly. He smirked, brushing his thumb along your jaw.

"Oh? you sure have a lot of questions tonight. come on, ask me."

"Who… was that woman?"

You tried to sound casual, keeping your tone soft, neutral. But he picked up on it right away. Nanami blinked, then gave a small exhale. "an ex-colleague. we worked together for about five years."

"Were you close with her?"

"Not really. just professional stuff. I saw her today after more than a year."

Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of the coat. "are you going to see her again?"

Nanami tilted his head slightly. "she did mention grabbing a coffee sometime to catch up. why, dear?"

You looked away. "no… nothing..."

He went quiet for a moment. The silence hung in the air before you whispered again. "..umm... nanamin?"

"Yes, love?"

You took a shaky breath. "do you like... women your age more?"

He blinked, brows furrowing, before his face broke into an incredulous little chuckle. "Ohh... so this is what it’s about, huh?"

"Wh-what—" you quickly shook your head, eyes wide and cheeks burning.

"Jealous, dear?"

"I’m not—jealous! why would I be—"

"Mmmhm." he leaned in, kissing your pout. "my pretty little girl’s all possessive for me, huh?"

You looked away again. He cradled your face with one hand and murmured, "she’s just an old friend, baby. married. has kids. even if she wasn’t—it wouldn’t matter." He pulled your face back to his. "I have you. yeah?"

You looked into his eyes, soft and hopeful. "promise?" He smiled and then bit down on your nipple without warning. "ah! nanamin!"

"Promise." He grinned, lips tugging at your sensitive flesh before letting go with a wet pop. "jealousy looks real good on you, baby..." He moved to your other nipple and sucked hard, swirling his tongue. "...but you’d look even better bouncing on my cock again, wouldn’t you?"

You slapped a hand over his mouth, cheeks flushed. "don’t say that!"

He laughed against your skin, licking your palm teasingly before pulling your hand down and murmuring, "c’mon... just one more round, yeah? wanna fill you up, make sure you know who you belong to."

His hands slid down to your ass, squeezing tight. "you’re not leaving this bed till I’ve fucked that jealousy right out of you, baby."

Your breath caught in your throat as he lifted you effortlessly, lining you up on his cock again and then he paused, smirking, "still wanna question me, sweetheart? or are you ready to get fucked dumb again?"

Since then, you avoid him as much as possible. You eat at different times, use the other staircase, and pretend he doesn’t exist when he walks by in sweatpants and zero shame.

It’s a delicate system. You stay out of each other’s way, and the house stays quiet.

Until tonight.

The others went out—your mom and her husband doing whatever rich people do when they say “business dinner.” The staff had gone home hours ago. House was dead silent, except for the hum of the AC and the faint noise of the TV upstairs.

You were sprawled on the couch, watching some random show, too lazy to go to your room. The glow from the screen flickered over the glass railing, throwing light on the expensive decor you still weren’t used to.

You weren’t thinking about him. You never try to think about him. He just shows up in your head like a song you hate but know every word to.

The guy’s too pretty for his own good. Snowy silk hair, those ridiculous blue eyes, the kind of confidence that makes you want to throw a punch. Still, you’ve caught yourself looking far more times than you’ll admit, but you always end up annoyed after. All that beauty wasted on a prick like him. Some people win the genetic lottery and still manage to act like jerks.

What a fuckin' shame.

The soft glow of the TV blurred at the edges as your eyes grew heavier and heavier. Couch was warm, the blanket softer than it looked, and before you realized, your phone slipped from your hand, screen dimming out. You were out cold.

And down the hall, Gojo’s door creaked open.

He stepped out, jacket slung over one shoulder, keys in hand, probably heading out to do whatever rich, bored boys do on a friday night.

He was halfway down the hallway when he saw you, making him stop dead in his tracks. He hadn’t expected you to be here.

You were sprawled on the leather couch, head tilted back, mouth slightly open. One arm dangled off the edge, fingers brushing the floor. The neck of your tshirt had ridden down, twisted just enough to bare your left breast completely. The nipple was stiff in the AC’s chill, the curve heavy and full against your ribcage.

He’d never seen you like this. Vulnerable and exposed, not the annoying girl he looked down for invading his space. His gaze locked on the swell of flesh, the way it spilled slightly under your arm.

He knew they were big, couldn’t miss it with those tight tops you wore, parading around him—but seeing it like this, offered up for him? His cock throbbed hard against his zipper, a hot, insistent ache. He took a step closer, the carpet muffling his movements.

Such a fuckin’ whore, aren’t you? the audacity of yours to be in his house, spread out on his couch, tits out like a desperate slut, hoping his pretty hands would end up all over you. Isn't that right?

As if he’d ever touch something as lowly as you.

His fngers twitched at his sides. He’d come over meaning to yank that shirt back up, hide the tempting swell of your tit before it drove him insane. But the hand had a mind of its own. It drifted forward instead, palm hovering just above your bare skin, close enough to feel the warmth rising off you.

Your chest rose and fell in soft, steady breaths, that pretty nipple tightening even more under the cool air.

Just gonna cover this bitch up, he told himself.

Bullshit. His little friend down there told another story. It was strained hard against his slacks, thick and throbbing, calling him a liar with every pulse.

His thumb brushed the soft underside first, feather-light and testing. It was warm. So fucking soft it made his mouth water. He swallowed thickly, the other hand gripping the armrest for control. Then he gave in, palming the full heavy weight of your tit, fingers spreading wide to claim it. A gentle squeeze made the soft flesh spill between them as his thumb dragged slow, deliberate circles around that stiff peak, teasing it harder.

A low groan escaped him when you shifted slightly in sleep, arching your back just enough to push your tit deeper into his hand.

He groaned low and pinched the nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling it. It pebbled tighter, and he felt his own pulse hammering in his throat. He massaged it slowly, feeling the bud stiffen impossibly harder under his fingers.

He wanted to pull back, needed to, but the urge to feel more, taste it, was a fever in his blood. His eyes darted to the hallway, empty and silent. Swallowing hard, he sank to his knees beside the couch, the leather creaking softly under his shifting weight.

Just a taste, he bargained with the throbbing ache in his gut. He leaned in and dragged his tongue in one long, sloppy wet stripe from the soft underside of your tit all the way up to that stiff nipple. A deep, guttural moan tore from his throat at the taste of your warm skin. Then his mouth closed over it, sucking your nipple deep between his lips. Flicking the hard bud fast and filthy with his tongue, sucking hard enough to pull your soft flesh into the wet heat of his mouth. He released it with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting his lips to your swollen bud, only to latch back on even harder, nursing it like he was trying to milk you.

His free hand yanked the neck of your t-shirt down roughly, fully exposing your other breast. Both of your fat tits were out now— soft and glistening with his spit.

The sight punched the air from his lungs. His free hand slid across your stomach as he reached your other breast. Grabbing it softly, fingers spreading wide to cradle the heavy weight, trying not to wake you, trying to pretend this wasn’t happening. He massaged both tits now, kneading them like dough, pulling and squeezing until your nipples were puffy, swollen nubs.

He wanted to stop. Should stop, but his hips ground against the couch edge, cock making a sticky mess in his pants.

He couldn’t fight it anymore. With a rough yank, he ripped his slacks open and shoved them down his thighs, letting his fat cock spring free, drooling sticky strings of pre-cum from the slit like it was already begging to breed something. He wrapped his big hand around the shaft, groaning deep as he squeezed it hard enough to make the veins bulge.

He started pumping it fast, thumb smearing the leaking mess all over the fat head with every brutal upward stroke. At the same time he dove back down, sucking your nipple back into his greedy mouth.

Wet, obscene sounds filled the silent room— the slick of his fist flying over his dick mixed with his hungry breaths. He nursed your tit, hard wet pulls that made the soft flesh bounce in his grip, spit running down the curve of it.

But it still wasn’t enough for the greedy bastard. Mind kept flashing to your untouched cunt, probably leaking under those tiny shorts. Just the thought made his heavy balls draw up tight, forcing another thick pulse of pre to spill over his knuckles. It had his fingers dug into your tit too hard, leaving angry red marks.

He froze, breath catching. "Shit. Did I wake her?"

But you shifted, twisting away and burying your face into the couch cushions. Your back arched so prettily as you pulled from him.

His mouth lost your nipple with a wet pop, and a frustrated growl rumbled deep in his chest. Eyes dragging down the delicious dip of your waist, straight to those shorts that were doing a piss-poor job of hiding what belonged to him.

Round, perky ass— plump, and practically begging to be spread open and used. The fabric stretched taut over each cheeks, outlining their fullness while you lay on your side, a gift he was dying to unwrap.

Fuck... all this time?

There had been an ass like this right under his roof, sitting within arm’s reach every single day, and he’d never bothered to use it? How the hell had he been this goddamn ignorant?

His cock jumped eagerly as he kept stroking. He needed those shorts gone. Needed to see that bare cunt right fucking now.

He leaned in close, fingers hooking into the waistband of your cotton shorts, tugging them down slow, watching the fabric peel off your hips and bunch at your knees, revealing twin globes of perfect flesh.

Shit... this was what he’d been ignoring all this time? the arrogant prick in him wanted to laugh at how blind he’d been. He needed to ruin it. Needed to cover those plump cheeks in thick ropes of his cum until it dripped down your skin.

His thumbs dug deep into the soft flesh, spreading your ass wide open. There she was— a pretty cunt, puffy and shiny with slick and the little hole clenching around nothing.

“Look at that,” he muttered, letting out a low whistle. His index finger slid through your soaked folds, dragging all that warm slick up to your clit before he started rubbing it in rough, slow circles. You whimpered softly, hips shifting and pushing back against his hand like your greedy pussy already knew it was him.

He kept rubbing your pussy with slow strokes, slick coating his fingertip as it slid effortlessly over the mess. He could feel every pulse and throb, your cunt practically sucking at the air. He bit his lip bloody holding back from shoving his dick into that tight hole right fucking now. Wanting to fuck you stupid, to feel the gummy walls choke him, the thought of it nearly buckled his knees. With a groan, he pulled his finger back, thick string of slick connecting to your pussy for a second before snapping.

Without hesitation, he shoved them into his mouth, sucking hard. The taste exploded on his tongue and his eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy.

At that hell of a moment all he wanted was to be balls deep in that fuck hole, slide in and out until it milked him dry. But the clock was ticking. He had somewhere he needs to be. Jaw clenched, he grabbed his aching dick, pumping it roughly in his fist, finally aiming it between your thighs.

The swollen head dragged through your soaked folds, smearing your slick over his throbbing tip. He bit back a moan, teeth grinding as he rubbed himself against your pussy, everything too much.

Heaven wasn’t some distant dream—it was right here, between your thighs, in your leaking cunt. Gojo was already at his fucking limit, cock sliding through your soaked folds once, twice—and the swollen head caught on your clit on the third thrust, rubbing hard against that swollen bud.

That was it.

Three slides of his cock on your folds and it was endgame for the mighty Satoru gojo. He covered his own mouth as his hips jerked forward uncontrollably. Thick, hot ropes of cum exploded from his cock, splattering across your bare cunt in thick, white stripes. It pulsed out of him in violent spurts, painting your glistening flesh with sticky streaks.

Satoru’s sat on his knees, chest heaving, eyes dark and smug, and yeah… he knows exactly what the fuck just happened.

Does he feel even a hint of guilt?

Hell no. Not even a shred. And why would he? The bastard loved every second of it. He even had the audacity to pull back your shorts like he was done using your hole, not even giving a damn what you’d think when you woke up.

That’s the fun part—letting you wake up, piecing it all together, maybe stumbling into him later, cheeks flushed, begging for it and even if you didn't, it doesn't matter cause he takes what he wants anyways.

And let’s be real… how could you even say no to that face? That cocky, impossible, infuriatingly perfect face? You can’t.

Nobody says no to Gojo Satoru. And he knows it.

Since then, you avoid him as much as possible. You eat at different times, use the other staircase, and pretend he doesn’t exist when he walks by in sweatpants and zero shame.

It’s a delicate system. You stay out of each other’s way, and the house stays quiet.

Until tonight.

The others went out—your mom and her husband doing whatever rich people do when they say “business dinner.” The staff had gone home hours ago. House was dead silent, except for the hum of the AC and the faint noise of the TV upstairs.

You were sprawled on the couch, watching some random show, too lazy to go to your room. The glow from the screen flickered over the glass railing, throwing light on the expensive decor you still weren’t used to.

You weren’t thinking about him. You never try to think about him. He just shows up in your head like a song you hate but know every word to.

The guy’s too pretty for his own good. Snowy silk hair, those ridiculous blue eyes, the kind of confidence that makes you want to throw a punch. Still, you’ve caught yourself looking far more times than you’ll admit, but you always end up annoyed after. All that beauty wasted on a prick like him. Some people win the genetic lottery and still manage to act like jerks.

What a fuckin' shame.

The soft glow of the TV blurred at the edges as your eyes grew heavier and heavier. Couch was warm, the blanket softer than it looked, and before you realized, your phone slipped from your hand, screen dimming out. You were out cold.

And down the hall, Gojo’s door creaked open.

He stepped out, jacket slung over one shoulder, keys in hand, probably heading out to do whatever rich, bored boys do on a friday night.

He was halfway down the hallway when he saw you, making him stop dead in his tracks. He hadn’t expected you to be here.

You were sprawled on the leather couch, head tilted back, mouth slightly open. One arm dangled off the edge, fingers brushing the floor. The neck of your tshirt had ridden down, twisted just enough to bare your left breast completely. The nipple was stiff in the AC’s chill, the curve heavy and full against your ribcage.

He’d never seen you like this. Vulnerable and exposed, not the annoying girl he looked down for invading his space. His gaze locked on the swell of flesh, the way it spilled slightly under your arm.

He knew they were big, couldn’t miss it with those tight tops you wore, parading around him—but seeing it like this, offered up for him? His cock throbbed hard against his zipper, a hot, insistent ache. He took a step closer, the carpet muffling his movements.

Such a fuckin’ whore, aren’t you? the audacity of yours to be in his house, spread out on his couch, tits out like a desperate slut, hoping his pretty hands would end up all over you. Isn't that right?

As if he’d ever touch something as lowly as you.

His fngers twitched at his sides. He’d come over meaning to yank that shirt back up, hide the tempting swell of your tit before it drove him insane. But the hand had a mind of its own. It drifted forward instead, palm hovering just above your bare skin, close enough to feel the warmth rising off you.

Your chest rose and fell in soft, steady breaths, that pretty nipple tightening even more under the cool air.

Just gonna cover this bitch up, he told himself.

Bullshit. His little friend down there told another story. It was strained hard against his slacks, thick and throbbing, calling him a liar with every pulse.

His thumb brushed the soft underside first, feather-light and testing. It was warm. So fucking soft it made his mouth water. He swallowed thickly, the other hand gripping the armrest for control. Then he gave in, palming the full heavy weight of your tit, fingers spreading wide to claim it. A gentle squeeze made the soft flesh spill between them as his thumb dragged slow, deliberate circles around that stiff peak, teasing it harder.

A low groan escaped him when you shifted slightly in sleep, arching your back just enough to push your tit deeper into his hand.

He groaned low and pinched the nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling it. It pebbled tighter, and he felt his own pulse hammering in his throat. He massaged it slowly, feeling the bud stiffen impossibly harder under his fingers.

He wanted to pull back, needed to, but the urge to feel more, taste it, was a fever in his blood. His eyes darted to the hallway, empty and silent. Swallowing hard, he sank to his knees beside the couch, the leather creaking softly under his shifting weight.

Just a taste, he bargained with the throbbing ache in his gut. He leaned in and dragged his tongue in one long, sloppy wet stripe from the soft underside of your tit all the way up to that stiff nipple. A deep, guttural moan tore from his throat at the taste of your warm skin. Then his mouth closed over it, sucking your nipple deep between his lips. Flicking the hard bud fast and filthy with his tongue, sucking hard enough to pull your soft flesh into the wet heat of his mouth. He released it with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting his lips to your swollen bud, only to latch back on even harder, nursing it like he was trying to milk you.

His free hand yanked the neck of your t-shirt down roughly, fully exposing your other breast. Both of your fat tits were out now— soft and glistening with his spit.

The sight punched the air from his lungs. His free hand slid across your stomach as he reached your other breast. Grabbing it softly, fingers spreading wide to cradle the heavy weight, trying not to wake you, trying to pretend this wasn’t happening. He massaged both tits now, kneading them like dough, pulling and squeezing until your nipples were puffy, swollen nubs.

He wanted to stop. Should stop, but his hips ground against the couch edge, cock making a sticky mess in his pants.

He couldn’t fight it anymore. With a rough yank, he ripped his slacks open and shoved them down his thighs, letting his fat cock spring free, drooling sticky strings of pre-cum from the slit like it was already begging to breed something. He wrapped his big hand around the shaft, groaning deep as he squeezed it hard enough to make the veins bulge.

He started pumping it fast, thumb smearing the leaking mess all over the fat head with every brutal upward stroke. At the same time he dove back down, sucking your nipple back into his greedy mouth.

Wet, obscene sounds filled the silent room— the slick of his fist flying over his dick mixed with his hungry breaths. He nursed your tit, hard wet pulls that made the soft flesh bounce in his grip, spit running down the curve of it.

But it still wasn’t enough for the greedy bastard. Mind kept flashing to your untouched cunt, probably leaking under those tiny shorts. Just the thought made his heavy balls draw up tight, forcing another thick pulse of pre to spill over his knuckles. It had his fingers dug into your tit too hard, leaving angry red marks.

He froze, breath catching. "Shit. Did I wake her?"

But you shifted, twisting away and burying your face into the couch cushions. Your back arched so prettily as you pulled from him.

His mouth lost your nipple with a wet pop, and a frustrated growl rumbled deep in his chest. Eyes dragging down the delicious dip of your waist, straight to those shorts that were doing a piss-poor job of hiding what belonged to him.

Round, perky ass— plump, and practically begging to be spread open and used. The fabric stretched taut over each cheeks, outlining their fullness while you lay on your side, a gift he was dying to unwrap.

Fuck... all this time?

There had been an ass like this right under his roof, sitting within arm’s reach every single day, and he’d never bothered to use it? How the hell had he been this goddamn ignorant?

His cock jumped eagerly as he kept stroking. He needed those shorts gone. Needed to see that bare cunt right fucking now.

He leaned in close, fingers hooking into the waistband of your cotton shorts, tugging them down slow, watching the fabric peel off your hips and bunch at your knees, revealing twin globes of perfect flesh.

Shit... this was what he’d been ignoring all this time? the arrogant prick in him wanted to laugh at how blind he’d been. He needed to ruin it. Needed to cover those plump cheeks in thick ropes of his cum until it dripped down your skin.

His thumbs dug deep into the soft flesh, spreading your ass wide open. There she was— a pretty cunt, puffy and shiny with slick and the little hole clenching around nothing.

“Look at that,” he muttered, letting out a low whistle. His index finger slid through your soaked folds, dragging all that warm slick up to your clit before he started rubbing it in rough, slow circles. You whimpered softly, hips shifting and pushing back against his hand like your greedy pussy already knew it was him.

He kept rubbing your pussy with slow strokes, slick coating his fingertip as it slid effortlessly over the mess. He could feel every pulse and throb, your cunt practically sucking at the air. He bit his lip bloody holding back from shoving his dick into that tight hole right fucking now. Wanting to fuck you stupid, to feel the gummy walls choke him, the thought of it nearly buckled his knees. With a groan, he pulled his finger back, thick string of slick connecting to your pussy for a second before snapping.

Without hesitation, he shoved them into his mouth, sucking hard. The taste exploded on his tongue and his eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy.

At that hell of a moment all he wanted was to be balls deep in that fuck hole, slide in and out until it milked him dry. But the clock was ticking. He had somewhere he needs to be. Jaw clenched, he grabbed his aching dick, pumping it roughly in his fist, finally aiming it between your thighs.

The swollen head dragged through your soaked folds, smearing your slick over his throbbing tip. He bit back a moan, teeth grinding as he rubbed himself against your pussy, everything too much.

Heaven wasn’t some distant dream—it was right here, between your thighs, in your leaking cunt. Gojo was already at his fucking limit, cock sliding through your soaked folds once, twice—and the swollen head caught on your clit on the third thrust, rubbing hard against that swollen bud.

That was it.

Three slides of his cock on your folds and it was endgame for the mighty Satoru gojo. He covered his own mouth as his hips jerked forward uncontrollably. Thick, hot ropes of cum exploded from his cock, splattering across your bare cunt in thick, white stripes. It pulsed out of him in violent spurts, painting your glistening flesh with sticky streaks.

Satoru’s sat on his knees, chest heaving, eyes dark and smug, and yeah… he knows exactly what the fuck just happened.

Does he feel even a hint of guilt?

Hell no. Not even a shred. And why would he? The bastard loved every second of it. He even had the audacity to pull back your shorts like he was done using your hole, not even giving a damn what you’d think when you woke up.

That’s the fun part—letting you wake up, piecing it all together, maybe stumbling into him later, cheeks flushed, begging for it and even if you didn't, it doesn't matter cause he takes what he wants anyways.

And let’s be real… how could you even say no to that face? That cocky, impossible, infuriatingly perfect face? You can’t.

Nobody says no to Gojo Satoru. And he knows it.