∘₊✧ and if your roommates were nerdjo and nerdcho..? ✧₊∘
at a glance, your roommates are sweet enough. satoru always does the dishes and he’s very diligent in helping you with your homework. choso’s quieter and keeps to himself, mostly, and he always speaks you in a soft voice and lets you wear his hoodies.
honestly. you couldn’t ask for a better pair of people to share the rent with.
it’s just…sometimes, things feel a little strange.
it’s not something you can name, exactly. just like earlier today, when you told them you were going out and wouldn’t be back until much later. you were dolled up, in a cute little dress and heels to match, and said in that sugary voice of yours that you were clubbing with your friends.
the second the door shut, choso and satoru stood in the living room awkwardly.
thick, awkward silence fills the space, and neither of them lookat each other.
“i have work,” choso says abruptly.
“yeah,” satoru replies just as quickly. “me too.”
they split in opposite directions like magnets repelling, footsteps just a little too fast to be casual.
doors click shut.
your words and you in that dress swirl through satoru’s mind the second he collapses onto his bed, hand already shoved down his pants, palming desperately at his boxers. he presses the heel of his other hand to his eyes, groaning under his breath, and spits into his palm, the wet schlick of his fist wrapped around his cock filling the room.
choso’s diving headfirst for his pillow, burying his hand in the case to pull out a pair of panties - your pair of panties - he’d stolen borrowed out of your laundry basket a few days ago. dark blue and lacy, and he pictured you wearing them under his favourite hoodie on you. the hoodie he had on, that still carried the faint scent of your perfume. he bit down on his hand and moaned as he brought the lace to his hard, leaking cock, the fabric rubbing against it in a way that made his toes curl.
satoru never lasted long when he jerked off thinking about you. choso was lucky to last two minutes with your panties in his mouth and on his cock.
and you, unsuspecting as ever, always come home with your heels dangling from your fingers, lazy smile etched on your face.
satoru and choso always make sure you drink water, make you eat before carefully wiping your makeup off and looking away, faces red, as you change into your pajamas.
the both of them guilt-trodden for their actions with your name spilling from their lips.
neither of them realize they’re losing their minds in exactly the same way.
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the morning light is soft, almost hesitant, slipping through the half-open curtains in pale stripes across the sheets. you wake first, slow and hazy, aware of gojo before anything else: the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, the loose drape of his arm over your waist, fingers splayed across your stomach like he’s anchoring you even in sleep.
his hair is a mess against the pillow, white strands spilling everywhere, and his breathing is deep, unhurried. you shift just enough to feel him—warm, solid, already half-hard where he’s pressed against the curve of your ass. it’s not urgent yet. just there. a quiet promise.
you don’t move right away. instead you let your hand drift back, fingertips tracing the line of his hip, the dip where thigh meets torso. he stirs at the touch, a low hum vibrating in his throat, but his eyes stay closed.
“you’re awake,” you murmur, voice still thick with sleep.
“barely,” he mumbles, lips brushing the back of your neck. “your fault. you smell too good.”
you smile into the pillow. “i haven’t even showered.”
“exactly.” his hand slides higher, slow, palm cupping your breast through the thin tank top. thumb circles once, lazy, feeling the nipple tighten under the fabric. “makes me want to keep you like this. messy and mine.”
he doesn’t push. just keeps that slow, teasing stroke over your chest, rolling the peak between thumb and finger until your breath hitches. you arch your back a little, pressing your ass back against him, and he groans softly, hips rocking forward in a shallow grind.
“tease,” he whispers, amusement curling the word.
“you started it.”
his laugh is quiet, sleepy. “guilty.”
he shifts behind you, easing your leg forward just enough to make space. his cock slides between your thighs, not inside yet, just gliding along the slick heat you’re already starting to feel. the head brushes your clit on every slow pass and you bite your lip to keep from moaning too loud.
“fuck,” he breathes against your ear. “you’re wet already. dreaming about me?”
“maybe.” you reach back, fingers wrapping around him, guiding him so the next slide drags right over your entrance. “or maybe you just feel too good pressed up against me.”
he groans, longer this time, hips stuttering. “keep talking like that and this is gonna end before it starts.”
you squeeze him gently, thumb swiping over the tip. “then take your time, satoru. we’ve got all morning.”
he exhales shakily, like he’s trying to rein himself in. his hand leaves your breast, trails down your side, over your hip, then between your legs. fingers part you, slow and careful, middle finger circling your clit in the same lazy rhythm he’s using to rock against you.
“like this?” he asks, voice low, almost teasing.
“mhm.” you push back, matching his pace, letting the head of his cock nudge your entrance on every forward roll. “just like that.”
minutes stretch. the room fills with soft sounds: your shared breathing, the wet slide of skin, the occasional hitch in his throat when you clench around nothing. he kisses your shoulder, your neck, the sensitive spot behind your ear. lazy, open-mouthed kisses that make your skin prickle.
eventually his finger slips inside you, slow, curling just enough to make your toes curl. he adds a second after a minute, stretching you gently while his thumb keeps working your clit.
“so tight,” he murmurs. “always so fucking perfect for me.”
you whimper, soft and needy, but you don’t go still. you rock back onto his fingers, setting a slow rhythm that has him groaning against your skin.
“want you inside,” you say, voice breathy. “please.”
he doesn’t tease this time. just pulls his fingers free, shifts his hips, and guides himself to your entrance. the first inch is slow, careful, letting you feel every ridge as he sinks in. you both exhale at the same time when he’s halfway, your hand reaching back to grip his thigh, urging him deeper.
“god,” he groans, forehead pressed to your shoulder. “you feel… fuck. so good.”
he bottoms out in one final, measured push, hips flush against your ass. then he stills, just holding himself there, letting you adjust, letting the fullness settle.
you squeeze around him on purpose and he curses under his breath.
“you’re evil,” he mutters, but there’s a smile in it.
“move,” you whisper. “slow.”
he does. long, lazy rolls of his hips that drag him almost all the way out before sliding back in deep. every thrust grinds against that spot inside you, slow enough that the pleasure builds like a tide, steady and inevitable.
you match him, pushing back every time he sinks in, rolling your hips in small circles that make him whimper—actual soft, broken whimpers against your neck.
“shit, baby,” he breathes. “keep doing that. feels insane.”
your hand slips between your legs again, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts. the angle is perfect like this, side-by-side, bodies slotted together, no rush, just the slow build of heat between you.
“you’re close,” he murmurs, feeling you tighten. “i can tell.”
“yeah.” your voice cracks a little. “don’t stop.”
he doesn’t. just keeps that deep, grinding rhythm, one arm wrapped around your waist to hold you close, the other hand covering yours on your clit, pressing your fingers harder against yourself.
when you come it’s quiet, rolling through you in long, shuddering waves. you moan his name, low and wrecked, body trembling against his. he follows right after, hips pressing deep, spilling inside you with a long, guttural groan that vibrates through your back.
he stays buried, softening slowly, arms tightening around you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. his lips find your shoulder again, kissing softly, lazily.
“morning,” he mumbles, voice hoarse and content.
you laugh, breathless, turning your head just enough to catch his mouth in a slow, sleepy kiss.
“morning, idiot.”
he grins against your lips. “your idiot.”
there it goes, satoru and his post nut clarity turning his brain into a corny mush but you don’t say nothing, don’t move for a long time. just stay tangled like that, warm and sticky and perfectly lazy, letting the sun climb higher while the world outside waits.
۶ৎ “just the tip” with satoru during ovulation week
you’re not supposed to be doing this.
he’s not even in you. that was the rule. that was the compromise—dry humping only, hands above the waist, no slipping, no skin, no tip, no nothing, you promised, swore up and down that you could behave, that it was just about the pressure, the friction, the grind, the way his sweats catch your clit just right when you angle your hips and rock down slow—
but that was twenty minutes ago.
and now your panties are soaked, his dick’s leaking, your thighs are trembling, and you’ve already cum twice with your face buried in his neck like that’s gonna hide anything.
“satoru,” you gasp, rocking down again and again and again, desperate and slick and not even pretending anymore.
he grunts. his fingers dig bruises into your hips.
“jesus christ, baby,” he groans, “you’re getting it everywhere.”
you can feel it—wet cotton, sticky fabric, the hot mess you’ve both made of yourselves just from humping like fucking teenagers, and it’s not enough, it’s not enough, it’s not—
“just the tip,” you whisper.
he stares up at you.
“baby—”
“just the tip, please.”
and then you’re already shifting, already dragging his sweats down just enough, already pulling your panties to the side, already sinking onto him with one long, slow grind that makes you both go silent at the same time.
he doesn’t even push in. he doesn’t have to. your cunt takes him.
just the tip, technically—just the thick swollen head of him seated snug inside, no thrusting, no rocking, no cheating—but it’s warm and full and perfect and your eyes roll back immediately like your pussy’s trying to kiss his cock goodnight.
“jesus fucking christ,” he pants, arms shaking, “you’re—you’re holding me, baby, i can’t—”
“shhh,” you murmur, already lowering yourself until your chest is pressed to his, your cunt clamped down tight and still around him like you were built to do this, like you were meant to do this, like this isn’t the worst fucking idea you’ve ever had—
“it’s just cockwarming,” you whisper, breath hot against his ear. “we’re not moving.”
but your pussy keeps fluttering. every breath he takes makes his cock twitch. every twitch makes you clench. every clench makes him groan and every groan makes you want.
you bury your face in his neck. breathe him in. smell the sweat and the shampoo and the sharp clean scent of his skin and pretend you’re not slowly dripping around the base of his cock like a fucking needy whore.
“fuck,” he whispers, voice shaking. “baby, you gotta stop—”
“i’m not moving,” you whisper, biting your lip hard enough to leave a dent.
and you’re not. technically. because if you move it doesn’t count, right? if you stay still you’re a good girl, you’re not cheating, you’re just sitting here still like someone who didn’t accidentally impale herself on her boyfriend’s cock during a desperate dry humping session while ovulating, because it’s just the tip, it’s cockwarming, it’s not a real fuck if you’re both crying about it inside.
“you sure?” he breathes, eyes glassy, jaw clenched, fists buried in the sheets like he’s one centimeter away from fucking up and five seconds away from nutting inside you just for being warm.
you nod. try to look convincing. try to ignore the way your pussy flutters again—because it’s not your fault, it’s muscle memory or instinct or the devil, maybe, but definitely not you.
he groans. sharp and guttural. one of those stomach-deep noises like it’s pain, like it’s good, like the pressure’s so much it’s tipping over into agony.
“you’re fucking tight,” he mutters, voice strangled. “like—like blood flow cutting off tight. like medical emergency tight. like—fuck, babe—”
you clench again, experimentally.
his whole body jolts.
“baby.”
“sorry,” you say, not sorry at all.
his hands grab your hips like he’s going to stop you. like he could stop you. like he’s not actively losing his grip on reality while his cock is sheathed to the tip in your sweet, wet, fluttering fucking cunt.
you are. you’re clenching again. because he’s leaking. because it’s hot. because your cunt is drooling around him and your brain is going static and your whole pelvis feels like it’s glowing and you swear it’s just the hormones, it’s not like you want this, you don’t want to—
“fuck—fuck, i’m gonna cum—”
“don’t,” you gasp, tightening your thighs around his hips, not moving, still not moving, “satoru, don’t—”
he whines. actually whines. high-pitched and broken and fucking precious, like his soul is trying to escape through his teeth.
“baby,” he sobs, “i told you not to clench—”
“you’re such a little bitch,” you spit, just to be mean, just to win, just to distract—and he cums. just like that.
no thrusting, no warning, no control—just his back arching and his arms going tight and his face twisting like he’s seeing god as he empties his soul into your cunt in slow, hot, endless waves. every pulse another betrayal.
every spurt another nail in your coffin. your mouth falls open in shock and awe and disbelief and pure molten fuck as he fills you past the point of saturation, creamy and thick and so much more than just the tip.
you can feel it leaking down already, soaking your panties, sticky between your thighs, staining everything.
he’s panting. blinking up at you. ruined.
“…oops,” he says.
you stare down at him.
“…satoru.”
“technically,” he whispers, grinning, “you moved first.”
you shift a little and flinch immediately because it’s still coming out of you, warm and viscous, soaking through your poor panties like they’re tissue paper, and satoru’s just lying there, flushed and panting, looking way too proud for a man who just came like a teenager in a movie theater.
“you’re disgusting,” you mutter, voice flat. dazed.
he grins. “you’re welcome.”
“i’m going to kill you.”
“that’s fair.”
he’s still inside you. you can feel it—softening now, twitchy and spent, and still plugged up tight with his mess—and you should climb off, you should run for a towel or the bathroom or a time machine, but instead you just stay there. legs spread. pussy full. brain fried.
satoru lets his hands settle on your hips again. not to move you—just to hold you. like he’s grounding himself.
“you okay?” he asks, a little softer now, and you hate that it sounds real. like he means it. like he knows he pushed it.
you nod once. barely.
he presses his thumbs to the curve of your hips, gentle. “wanna get cleaned up?”
you exhale. long. still dizzy. “not yet.”
he hums. smug. self-satisfied. then, quieter. “we can try again later. properly, this time. y’know, if you really wanna warm my cock.”
you don’t dignify that with an answer. just close your eyes and stay there. stuffed. soaked. ruined.
MDNI 18+ 〃 pervy roommate!satoru x equally pervy!reader
A/N: not proofread but fuck it we ball
Satoru is the worst roommate ever.
It's not because he’s messy (he is) or loud (this too).
It's because he makes it impossible to forget that he’s a guy.
A tall, lean, stupidly pretty guy. Who leaves his clothes everywhere. Who wanders around half-naked and dripping with a towel slung low on his hips. Who grins in a way that makes your stomach flutter when he catches you looking.
And you look.
A lot.
To your credit, you never said you weren't perverted.
You wear lace camisoles around the apartment. Intentionally. Just to torture him. Thin straps falling off your shoulders, outline of your nipples visible when the AC kicks on.
And he notices.
Of course he notices.
His eyes drag over you when you bend down to get something and when you stretch on the couch and when you pad barefoot into the kitchen at midnight, half-asleep and braless. He looks at you like he’s memorizing every inch – like he knows you’re putting on a show. He plays along by pretending it doesn’t affect him.
It does.
You’ve seen the way he adjusts himself when he thinks you’re not looking. The way his cock tents his sweats when you crawl into his lap “as a joke.” The way his touch lingers when he brushes past you, a palm on your waist sliding just a little too low to be innocent. He looks at you like he already knows what color panties you've got on – and the truth is, he probably does.
You’re both so far gone it’s laughable.
At night, toy buzzing between your thighs, you always picture him. Satoru, the weight of his body caging you in, voice in your ear as he murmurs all the filthy things you secretly want him to. You fuck yourself to the thought of him being mean – holding you open, spitting on your pussy and rubbing your clit until you cry, making you cum again just because he can. And in the morning, you shove the toy deep in the drawer and pretend you're not ashamed when he's in the kitchen pouring cereal in his stupid cat print pajamas.
And Satoru?
Satoru's worse.
If you're playing with yourself, he's on the other side of the wall with his cock in his fist, grinning as he listens to you moan his name. Pressing your stolen panties to his nose while he strokes, groaning into the fabric, eyes rolling back when he thinks about how good you’d taste, how sweet you’d be, how pretty you’d look if he could just go into your room and watch. When you're gone, he doesn't even bother to hide it. Jerks off in your bed, rutting into your sheets until they're all sticky – then complains on call with Suguru later about having to do your laundry.
But you’re just roommates. Just friends. Friends that fantasize about each other and know you fantasize about each other and then act like neither of you know that.
Except for that one night.
You were cuddling on the couch, a few too many drinks deep, laughing at some movie neither of you were actually paying attention to.
Somehow, some way, your lips connected. Tongues swirling lazily, languid, the sound of the TV in the background buzzing to a pleasant hum.
Your shirt slipped low.
His hand slid under it.
And then his mouth was on your tits – hot and wet and greedy, like he'd been starving for a taste. Tongue circling your nipple until you were gasping, his teeth tugging, lips shiny with spit. And you let him. You let him rut against your clothed cunt, his cock stiff and heavy through his sweats, your name whispered into the dark between sloppy sucks.
When you woke up hours later, he was still there – lips wrapped tight around your nipple, drooling against your chest. He’d fallen asleep sucking your tits like he couldn’t stop himself.
You laid frozen, heart pounding, and when he finally stirred, he didn't even bother to act surprised. Just gave one last lazy swirl of his tongue, pulled off with a wet pop!, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and grinned.
You don’t talk about it.
But it escalates after that.
Now he jerks off in the bathroom with the door cracked open, groaning just loud enough for you to hear. Yeah, pretty girl– gooood, shit, just like that. Letting the sound of his hand slicking over his cock echo down the hall. Sometimes you stand outside and listen, panties damp, thighs pressed together. Sometimes (most of the time) he knows. Lets the rhythm get louder, lets your name out in a quiet little groan just to see if you’ll flinch.
And you're no better. You sprawl out on the couch in your tiniest panties, hoodie just shy of covering the lace. Legs parted like an invitation. You pretend to nap while he sits across from you, jaw tight, eyes glued to the outline of your pussy. Once, he leans in – close enough to breathe you in, tongue out, shuddering. Not even touching you. Just.. hovering. Dancing around the line of friends and fucking.
It’s filthy. Depraved.
Roommates don’t do this – don’t steal each other’s underwear, don’t fall asleep sucking tits, don’t get themselves off in each other’s rooms and pretend nothing happened. Roommates don’t let their eyes linger until it feels like their gazes are making out, don’t get drunk and rut against each other until boundaries are nothing but a joke.
But technically, if neither of you acknowledge it, it never happened, right?
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˖ ࣪૮₍ 𝓑.𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐉𝐎 𓂃 ⭒ finds out you developed a nasty little kink after your last encounter
⤿ ꒰ he's always seen you as nothing but a stupid, pretty girl, but now he can't get you out of his head :: college au :: slight angst :: smut :: mean!satoru :: degradation :: fingering :: heavy dumbification :: overstimulation :: semi-public sex :: lovesick reader ꒱
˖ ࣪꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ couldn't get you out of his head after you whimpered those three, devastating words. I love you. he'd always paged you as the stupid type— but that has got to be the most idiotic thing that has ever left your mouth. you? falling in love with the man who used to snicker beside you whenever you were both handed out your test papers in highschool maths class? the guy who used to tell professors that you were a lost cause? the same fucking boy who told you to your face at least once a week that you were just some bimbo trying to make it through your astrophysics course on daddy's money and a ditsy mind? you really were an idiot.
. . . but why couldn't he stop thinking about it?
˖ ࣪꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ was so agitated at himself. whenever he'd close his eyes he'd see your glossy ones blinking up at him and your quivering lips whispering that stupid confession while you bounced on his dick all pitifully. you were cockdrunk, he tells himself. so fucking stuffed with him that it drained whatever little coherent thought you had. you were too focused on the way he smooched your cervix. how he thumbed on your clit. how you clenched and squirted and messed his desk chair.
he finds himself looking back at it. the stain you left behind. he cleaned off what he could but your evidence remained. another thing that pissed him off. until it became the perfect site to relive memories when his cock ached hard in his pants.
strike three to the frustration game. that. every time he let his mind drift off, you'd occupy that space. what a pesky lump of atoms. just invading the free space and making it yours. making him think about how soft your tits felt up against him. how much softer your thighs were quivering on his hips. that sweet, sweet taste of your pussy. how it spilled and fluttered for his tongue.
he found himself thinking. were you a virgin? or just inexperienced? had no one tonguefucked that pretty little cunt like he did? did no one stuff that gorgeous—
˖ ࣪꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ groans out loud and slumps back into his chair. shoving his foggy glasses up into his hair with one hand and throwing his textbook across the table with the other. he can't do this. can't focus like this. not when you're running laps in his head like you're trying to rewrite the theory of relativity.
“why can't I get that stupid girl out of my fucking heaaadddd. . .” he groaned. almost whined as he rubbed a hand down his blotched face roughly.
he grumbled. looked down at the bulge rising up to greet him. mock him. for fucks sakes. just calling you a stupid girl had him all hard and throbbing. fuck. guess there's no helping it huh?
˖ ࣪꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ hated himself for how he just had to shove his pants down and squeeze his fingers tight around his cock. hated himself even more for how his head threw back and the chair squeaked as he slumped into it while he jerked off his already spilling dick. but he hated himself most for how he grunted your name through gritted teeth and fogged glasses. how he whimpered it when his arm ached but kept desperately pumping at his now cum-stained cock as he bucked his hips up into his own palm.
fucking himself. he was fucking himself to the thought of you. to the memory of how you squelched and splashed around him. to those glossy eyes and drooling lips.
to that. . . stupid little way in which you said you loved him.
that's what really made him squirt ropes so high he accidentally smeared his glasses.
˖ ࣪꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ was convinced he'd be happy if you never spoke to him again. if you never looked his way in class nor asked him one of your silly questions ever. again.
until you did just that.
hold on— were you avoiding him?
sure, you've avoided him before. he has been your worst nightmare since highschool after all. but this was new. you were actively ignoring him. he should be grateful. this is what he wanted, right? this was the only way he was gonna get you and your pretty little moans out of his head.
but with every passing day, every wasted minute, every little second you weren't looking at him. weren't asking him questions. were trying your damned hardest to get out of every single assignment you were both paired for. . . satoru felt himself lose it just a little more.
˖ ࣪꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ officially snapped, however, when he saw you flashing that pretty smile and batting those adorable lashes at jock!kuna. he was well on his way to his next lecture when he spotted it. the ice hockey captain with his hip propped against the railing— and you right in front of him, mimicking him.
satoru could only describe it as coy.
he's not sure he'd seen you like this before. all bright smiles and confidence. that part of him that hated you wanted to go over and shatter the new pride you'd worked up.
but another part of him. a deeper voice that he shoved into the depths of his gut so it rattled his heart, told another story.
just a few weeks ago you were on his dick. whining his name. telling him that you loved him and now. . . what? you suddenly decided you preferred jocks?
˖ ࣪꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ didn't know what jealousy was. not really. he had it all. the brains, the looks— but seeing you with sukuna that day? seeing the way that the bastard walked off after brushing some of your hair back and the way that you smiled up at him as if you knew what he wanted? his blue eyes flared green. so did his mind. so did his heart that he often claimed didn't exist. shouldn't anger be red? shouldn't this feeling be dark? no. just an ugly, festering, clawing. green.
˖ ࣪꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ wasn't quite sure what came over him. all he knew was that when he spotted you in the library the next morning, he acted on instinct. two seconds.
two. seconds.
that's all it took before your back was shoved into shelf and a forearm slammed right above your head. rattling the books and your heart while he was at it.
satoru's wispy bangs framed his glasses that slipped off his nose as he zeroed in on your face. jaw tight. eyes sharp. you'd recognised that sneer. but what you didn't recognise?
that grip on your waist.
“so you can bounce on my cock for hours but now you can't even look at me?”
he didn't need to raise his voice. he was always so articulate. crisp and curt. sharp and to the point. it's what made a valedictorian.
he watched your face intensely. watched your eyes flit. watched your lips part to say something. watched as you put your hands on his shoulders with a hushed, “satoru we're in public.”
but what really caught his attention above all.
was the way your thighs flushed together. tight.
˖ ࣪꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ understood in that moment. the once scrambled pattern set into a precise equation line. all from the tremble in your thighs and the bunching of your skirt.
as much as you'd been avoiding him, he'd been doing the same. not an insult, nor a jab, not even a sly look when your assignments were handed back. it was out of routine.
at the start of the semester you at least used to give him a little greeting. a small smile. some pitiful, hopeless little interaction that would get his tongue lashing out whatever harsh comment he had. but you kept trying. and he kept dishing. it was natural. the push and pull of you and him. positive and negative.
now you were avoiding him. right after he had you riding him like a stupid slut. after he spanked your pussy and called you his silly girl.
icy blues darkened and dilated. the scowl slowly crept into a smirk. he leaned in. voice dropped. smooth and low against your burning ear.
“oh?“
he loved the way you sounded when his hand shoved against your thighs. his large palm crumpled your skirt and cupped your cunt. rough and careless.
his grinning teeth grazed your lobe.
“looks like someone found a new kink and doesn't know how to deal with it, huh?”
˖ ࣪꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ ground the heel of his palm up into you. rutting into the quickly dampening fabric and grinning at the way your hips immediately rocked into his hand. like a fucking sleeper agent awoken by just a bit of friction. or maybe it was the insults?
“is that what you needed?” he grunted. “seriously? just needed me to be mean to you? not interested if not?”
satoru's free hand snatched your jaw. squishing your face between the gaps of his fingers as he watches you ride his hand like second nature. he watched you crumble. watched you whimper and whine as he shoved you further into the shelf. held your face steady and loomed in with an irritable, taunting grin.
his tongue clicked. his croon low and condescending.
“what a fucking freak.”
˖ ࣪꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ knew he couldn't get you all squirming and squirting in the library. not with the way you gripped his shoulders and tried to hide your moans in his shoulder. not with the way it hasn't even been a few minutes and you were humping his hand like it was gonna get you extra credit— you'd get the both of caught. so despite his better judgement, he yanked you off and shoved you into some supply closet. face first in the wall. one hand clamped over your panting lips while his other jerked into your skirt. gripping the garter of your wet panties and yanking up. so that he ground the soaked fabric into your already quivering clit.
his breath was heavy. a tremble in his knuckles and his voice as he felt you buck back into him. trying to chase the hot curve of his bulge flushed against your ass.
“fuck— maybe I was right about you.” his foggy glasses nudged your temple as he pressed his face into it. inhaling the scent of your hair as a unholy riiiipppp! tore through the air.
“maybe you really are just a stupid slut. maybe—” he rutted his dick up into your ass, his jaw tight. “maybe you like being just that. huh?”
˖ ࣪꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ had your ripped panties pooling round your wobbly knees. soaked through and sagging from the absolute filthy mess that two of his fingers fucked out of your squelching cunt. knuckles humped on your spasming slit while the tips rubbed and fucked into all the spots that sent your eyes rolling back.
you were squirming. rutting into his hand. arching with every rabid pump of his hand. slick dripping down his wrist and soaking the sleeve of his cardigan. but he didn't care. couldn't— not with the way you were whining. not with how he was panting.
feral. very few things made him this way. an academic rival. an exam that made him work for it. maybe an equation that took him more than ten seconds. but you? oh you weeded this messy, mean side of him just by existing. by being a dumb girl who spilled all over his hand and rolled your glossy eyes back when he called you stupid.
you were loud. terribly so. moans and whines and little sobs muffled against his hand that squished firm against your cheeks.
satoru squeezed you harder. flicked his wrist and jammed his thumb up against your clit to rub on the poor bud until you were whimpering. a muddled attempt at his name from what he could make out.
“so fuckin' loud.” his hand yanked out. gooey strings webbed all over. your protest rumbled on his palm—
spank!
and his other gave a dirty smack up against your throbby cunt. "listen to that dumb pussy. gonna get us caught with how loud she is. that what you want? want someone to see how you're better off as a stupid slut?“
wet, and sharp. once, twice, five more spanks before his fingers flattened on your clit and rubbed cruel circles until you were arched and limping. squirming and spasming. sobbing.
the hand on your mouth relented. two fingers shoved into the drooling mess and flushed against your tongue. pressing against the back of it so all you could do was splutter. whimper. slump into him and rock your hips into the third orgasm that squirted all over the supply closet floor.
“messy thing.” he tsked. delivered one more sharp spank. and then shoved you back into the wall. humping on your ass to relieve some of the pressure on his aching erection since you seemed too dumb-fucked from his hands alone to actually help him out.
his heavy grunts and groans fanned your ear. arms crushing you against him. he wasn't gentle. didn't care to be. he's sure you didn't want that either. not with how you were whispering his name like a fervent prayer and pitifully trying to grind your sopping cunt back onto him. smearing his crotch in your creamy cum.
“this 's how it's gonna be,” he panted, ragged. hands squishing your thighs as a release built in his gut.
“gonna bring you back here between classes. fuck these pretty thighs. maybe that stupid face too. cause you're into that, huh? hah— into being treated like a stupid girl.”
his hand slipped up. trapped your face again and forced it back on his shoulder for his hot mouth to press into yours. tangled with your tongue and high on your saliva as he lost himself. lost all that prestige. all that stature. every inch of perfection shattered. all because your body drove him wild.
maybe he was just as much of a freak as you were.
˖ ࣪꒰ BULLY NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ knew the second he took you back to his dorm and fucked you into his sheets until you were all teary and babbling— that something shifted for him. something dark. something dirty. there was something about the way you looked up at him with glassy eyes. about the way you clung to him. with your arms strewn around his neck and your little sobs in his ear. as you begged for him to fuck you deeper, fuck you harder.
there was something about the way you whimpered "I love you" that stirred something deep within him.
and as you laid there in his arms. limp and out cold. an absolute mess of cum, sweat and bites. he asked himself a simple question as he stroked a thumb on your cheekbone.
did he love you?
his heart stopped. panicked.
no.
he didn't love you. he didn't know what love was. didn't have a heart. all he ever needed was his mind.
it was that very mind that you kept occupying. he told himself he didn't love you, but he couldn't quite get you out of his head either. so maybe this was a nice in between.
he didn't love you. but you loved him. he needed a release. and you needed someone to make you feel stupid.
so maybe he could just stay fucking that pretty body of yours and keeping you wrapped around his finger if it meant maintaining his sanity?
yeah. sounded like a plan. his mind said that it didn't want your heart. but it sure as hell wanted your body.
˖ ࣪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?
"fuck!" gojo's eyebrows knitted in pleasure, rubbing his thumb over your asshole. "imagined this so many goddamn times."
"it's too big." you whimpered out.
you didn't ever think you would be bent over your bed by your academic rival in a million years. but that's what happened when he had the audacity to come knocking on your door with a bouquet of flowers and a 'get well' card, for doing "bad" on the final exam.
well, you obviously didn't do bad. but compared to him and his stupid perfect score, yeah, it was bad.
he had gotten an 100% while you barely passed with a 90%.
"yikes.. that's an ugly score, baby." he hissed as if he was the one in pain.
"I passed." you gritted out.
"barely." he stuffed his test into his backpack, crumpling it up almost as if a perfect score didn't surprise him.
which it didn't. he was used to doing well on tests.
and that alone infuriated you.
his whole face made you want to punch the wall out of pure anger, so when he showed up, you dragged him into your bed in hopes that you could maybe embarrass him with how inexperienced he was.
but that was not the case.
the tables turned quickly when he had you begging and crying for his cock.
"yeah? thought I had a small dick? who do you take me for, darling."
both his hands kneaded at the flesh of your ass, containing to grind his cock over your weeping pussy.
"just put it in! stop teasing!" your own words surprised you but you were just so desperate.
"don't wanna." his voice was deep now, no longer that annoying tone that you were used to. his humps became pathetic, groaning at the way your cunt clenched around nothing.
he inserted his thumb in your ass.
"satoru!"
"yeah moan my name out like that." pecking your neck, playfully biting down with no warning. "gonna cum already."
"please! just fuck me!"
your lips were wobbling and your eyes were full of unshed tears.
your head was fogging up you couldn't even remember why you hated the boy. you asked yourself how you could when his cock was massive.
"what's wrong baby? huh?" his girthy cock entered you at last, twitching at the way it perfectly stretched over him. "look at that."
his lips found your neck again, this time being more rougher with the bites, tongue darting out to lick over the fresh marks.
giving another rough roll of his hips and smack of his balls, he released in you, filling you to the brim with his cum. some even managing to spill out.
"I'm close.. im so close, keep going!" it was as if your words fell upon deaf ears, his movements came to a halt. you looked back in confusion and desperation, wondering why he stopped.
his name fell from lips in a breathy whine.
"I tell you when you can cum."
the thrusting picked up again, going rougher with each one. satoru was completely gone, all needy groans. he bit his lip to quiet himself, not wanting to give you the pleasure of knowing how good you're making him feel.
"fuck you!" your voice cut through the wet sounds of skin on skin.
"hah.. you're doing exactly that."
he threw his head back, feeling another orgasm about to hit. "you take me so well.." he pushed himself deeper, hitting that sweet spot of yours.
satoru watched your expression through his lidded eyes, loving the way your face was red and frustrated.
"I need to cum.." you sniffled.
"do you?" he coo'ed. "it's not necessary.."
your knees wobbled as did your bruised lips. "I wanna cum!"
"I wanna cum!" he mocked you in a high pitched voice. his glassed were fogging up with every pant he let out. "fuckin' slut. this should be illegal." a smack echoed throughout the room. "your pussy is so good."
you couldn't even process his words when you were getting filled up again.
"take all of it.. just like that.." he smiled softly, slipping both his cock and thumb out of you. his pointer and middle rubbed at your folds, collecting his semen on them before bringing them over to your mouth, forcing you to lick them clean.
"you like having your mouth filled too?" he already knew the answer to that.
and he got his response quickly either way with the way you were gagging around his dick from sucking it fast.
"geez! it's not gonna go anywhere- ah!"
you were so damn sloppy with it, holding what you couldn't fit in your mouth with your hands, squeezing lightly.
"ngh.. might.. might let you finally cum." he rasped out, tangling his hand in your hair.
your tongue kept rubbing up against the vein he had running down his shaft until he was cumming again, forcing you to swallow every last drop.
"lay on your back.." he ordered, and you did exactly that.
his hands wrapped around your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulders.
"finally gonna let this pussy cum." smacking your thighs, feeling you dig the heel of your feet harder against him.
he spit directly at your opening, seeing how it dripped down. his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking needly at it.
"oh my god!" you screamed.
gojo felt as if he was in heaven when he slid his tongue inside your hole, eating you out like a starved man. his hips bucked against the bed, grinding his cock in search for another release.
"knew you were made for something other than arguin'.." he murmured.
you were clawing against his scalp, pulling at his hair to bring him impossibly closer to where you needed him the most.
"m'close!"
"alright, you can cum this time. go on.."
your back arched deliciously, squeezing around his tongue.
ropes of white shot out of his tip as well just from having you finish in his mouth. he slurped loudly before pulling away. his whole lower half was stained with your slick and he didn't even mind.
you've lost count of how many times you'd come by now. head buried in your plush pillows, a small damp spot forming on the fabric from where you've been drooling.
your eyes roll back as you struggle to take any more of what boyfriend gives you. your back arched in an uncomfortable position, the ache starting to catch up to you. but having no strength to adjust, the thought of pushing yourself up onto your elbows quickly fades.
you've also lost count of how many times gojo had come - how many times he's spilled his warm seed into you. coating your insides white, dragging his cock through your spent pussy. just so sensitive :(
"satoru- aaah.." your words trail off into a needy moan. his assertive hands take hold of your hips, fingers digging into the flesh so hard it becomes sore, though it's drowned out by the forcefulness of his thrusts smacking into you from behind. knocking the air out of you time and time again. balls slapping onto your puffy clit as his cock reaches so deep, tip harshly kissing your cervix while he attempts to fuck his previous loads back into your cunt.
his cum mixes with your creamy juices, the fluid leaking from between your walls and his thick length - dripping down onto your soft thighs. "f-fuck look at her," he teases, watching the way your stretched out pussy flutters around him. that white ring prominent around the base. "just drooling all over my cock.. shit"
your mind was a complete blur, body trembling and overstimulated. with gojo so deep it felt like he was rearranging your guts, making way for his cock and his cock only. pushing you to the absolute limit and never refusing to slow.
shaky moans spill onto the pillow. your lashes flutter as the dark mascara rubs black stains into the fabric beneath your face. "p-please," you cry out. "nnghh~ i can't-"
you moan helplessly, gripping the sheets beneath you as your body jolts forward with each hard stroke. endless sounds of skin slapping filling the room until you can barely hear yourself, let alone hear the soft grunts coming from the man behind you.
your arm snakes around your body, shaking as you reach back for him. fingers brushing against his skin before your hand presses on his abdomen like you're trying to push him away, as if telling him to slow down. but that only made things worse.
gojo catches on instantly, your little plea only amuses him. he grabs your wrist, grip tightening around your arm as he pulls you back closer to him. the arch in your back never leaves, his hold keeping you exactly where he wants as he drives into you even harder than before. "stop whining," he growls, voice rough against your ear.
you fall silent at his words, swallowing back anything that threatened to slip past your lips. left whimpering like a lost puppy, you succumb to an endless rhythm of thrusts. "i know you can fucking take it”
tw + tags // nsfw. minors dni. fem! reader. vaginal, fingering, vibrator, dildo, squirting, anal plug, male masterbation, camgirling & a bit of voyeurism.
the blanket is thrown lazily over his lower half, while his torso is slumped against his headboard as he absent-mindedly scrolls through his twitter feed. which, by now, mostly consisted of amateur porn and thirst traps.
but on this occasion, that's exactly what he's looking for. he's just been so pent-up all day, and he's truthfully not the type to immediately resort to jacking off — when he woke up with an agonising case of morning wood, his first instinct was to just go on with this day and ignore it. but that didn't work, so he tried going to the gym to work it off. but that didn't work either.
in fact, when he came home and took a nice hot shower, that only seemed to make the problem worse. so now he's on his last resort, lazing in his bed with his cock free from his sweats, palming it with one hand while the other holds his phone.
the room is dark; the only source of light being his phone screen and his dim bedside lamp. he groans lowly from the blunt satisfaction of his hand against his crotch. usually such lacklustre touch wouldn't do it for him, but since he's been repressing his urges all day, perhaps he's extra sensitive. regardless, any pleasure he's experienced must purely be from his own touch, as the videos on his feed aren't doing it for him at all.
it's all the same shit, really. girl with unfathomably big tits. mirror selfie. amateur 69ing. streamer fingering herself and giving the most obviously exaggerated moans. another girl with unfathomably big tits. male streamer thrist trap with corny caption. amateaur doggy style that is so blurry it looks like it was filmed on a microwave. more tits—
so repetitive.
that is, until he stumbles across a new account. at first, he processes it as 'just another girl fingering herself' video and almost automatically scrolls away. but he falters for a moment and lingers on the video for a bit longer. and thank god he does. once she starts to pick up the speed, it's like nothing he's ever seen before. gojo is immediately engulfed in the video, eyes glued to her pussy, watching intently as her gorgeous, creamy hole swallows her fingers over and over.
in theory, it's nothing special. yeah, she sounds cute and has got a nice body, but she's not even showing her face — the money-maker — hence why the video has barely over a thousand views.
but to gojo, everything about it is hypnotic. the way her breath hitches as she whines and muffles her moans; he loves a girl whose cute and timid — he has a fantasy where he makes a shy girl open up and scream on his girth. he also likes how the video is a bit grainy and low exposure, looks like it was filmed in the dark. it makes him think that she hid away in her room because there's other people around, and she had to stay quiet so nobody would hear her. but the moans that do slip out are just so sweet and needy, it's like she's crying out for him in particular.
overall, she's got this air of familiarity and intimacy about her that's just so sexy to him. he's fisting his cock at the same pace she's working her fingers into her pussy, and he ends up cumming as soon as witnesses her shaking and squirting all over the camera.
in a lustful haze, he doesn't bother to question why he feels so attracted to his content creator specifically. instead, he's guided by his raging hormones and need for another orgasm to click on her profile and search for more useful videos.
xxangel is her username. befitting.
strangely, she's not got an OF link in her bio, so despite the fact he was fully willing to fork out some cash to see more of her, gojo instead has to manually scour through her profile.
there's lots of replies to comments and retweets of other girls' content. with the occasional cute tit pic taken with the front camera. gojo idly rubs himself while he searches for something more substantial to get off too. however, he eventually stumbles across an image that sends shockwaves down his spine and he instantly realises why he's so attracted to her.
it's an image of you knelt in front of a full-length mirror, wearing bunny-themed lingerie, with the phone covering your face. a very typical photo for a nsfw twitter account. however, gojo recognises the background. in fact, he recognises everything. the mirror frame, the walls, the wardrobe behind the mirror, the plushes on your bed caught in the mirror's reflection.
that's your room.
a rollercoaster of emotions overcome him. at first, he felt embarrassed and a bit guilty that he wasn't able to immediately clock that the account was yours, just based off your body and voice alone. what kind of best friend is he? but he quickly brushes that off, since admittedly his brain was clouded with libido.
but his guilt only shifts. now he feels bad that he's discovered your nsfw without your knowledge. this seems like an invasion of privacy; should he tell you that he found this or pretend he never even saw it? either way, there's no way he can continue watching porn made by his best friend. that's.. so wrong.
he taps out of the image so he can exit your profile, but unfortunately his finger somehow slips and he ends up scrolling down slightly. it's then he finds a long video of you doggy-style on bed with a vibrator in your pussy, and he accidentally clicks on it and watches the whole thing. the camera is positioned behind you, so he still can't see your face, but he can only imagine the adorable ways your face is contorting to cope with the immense pleasure of that vibrator ruining your sensitive cunt.
after he's done watching you squirt all over your bed and soak your duvet (he's slept in those sheets, by the way. now that he knows that they've previously been covered in your juices, that causes his erection to throb in his hand), he intends to leave your profile but then it autoplays the next video and he's sucked in again. this one is short-form, and it's just you sat on the ground with your legs spread, toying with your clit and releasing the most precious, soft moans. your glistening pussy on display the whole time, teasing the camera.
and by now, he's so close. he wants to stop, he really does. he wants to be a good friend and respect your privacy, but it's gotten to the point where he needs to finish, and he knows that you're the only one who can help him.
he opens another video, but it's also way too short to lead him to his climax. still, he watches you spread your cheeks and — if the caption is true — insert a plug into your ass for the first time. it's small but still way too big for your tight hole, hence you writhe and struggle as you push it in. your thighs are damp and he can see a sliver of pink peeking out from between your pussy lips. a couple minutes later, you manage to fit it inside you and simultaneously end up cumming from the vibrator, gushing all over your floor. (he never realised you are such a squirter; he makes a mental note to tease you about that later.)
anyway, that video wasn't nearly long enough to help him climax, so he continues to look through your profile until he finds the holy grail — a video of you riding a six inch dildo on your bed. your face towards the camera, but the frame cuts off around your neck. still, he can see your tits jumping wildly with each bounce and his cock pulses in his hand upon hearing your lewd, pornographic moans. he didn't know you were capable of making such indecent noises, but now he's addicted to the sound. his eyes are fixated on the point where your pussy greedily consumes the dildo, leaving semi-translucent streaks on it every time you pull up.
gojo finds himself tugging his cock at the same rate you're hopping on the dildo, pretending that it's him you're riding. his eyelids feel heavy when his orgasm approaches, however he fights to keep them open so he doesn't miss a second of your video. he wants to see you and keep imagining what that tight pussy would feel like around his cock.
his chest heaves from the rapid motion of his hand and eventually he ends up spurting strings of his cum over his hand and sheets, hushed groans and whimpers rumbling in his mouth as his eyes roll back. meanwhile, as he's coming down from his sticky high, he can hear you finishing in the video too, squirting on the silicone toy and your bedsheets — no surprise there.
gojo frowns. it's really over. there's a heavy sensation in his chest, and he's unsure whether it is satisfaction from his orgasm, or guilt. either way, he pants, and the air feels different now.
gojo: hi princess
gojo: how was your day?
y/n: why are you calling me princess 😭😨
y/n: gojo what did you do
y/n: ur guilty of something, i know it!!!
gojo: hahaha no i'm just horny
y/n: LOL oh okay makes sense
gojo: can i show you a twt video i found??
y/n: EW no i don't want to see twt porn GROSS
y/n: (yes please show me)
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˖ ࣪૮₍ 𝓟.𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐉𝐎 𓂃 ⭒ is your ex boyfriend who can't stop wanting to fuck you even after you broke his heart.
⤿ ꒰ you left satoru in highschool. but after the glowup, he discovered something: revenge was fucking sweet. and he wants to get back at you for everything you've put him through. show you how much he's changed ꒱
♡ ₊˚‧ cw. college au :: smut :: m.masturbation :: f.oral :: m.oral :: fantasies :: alcohol consumption :: smoking :: shotgunning :: punk culture :: mean!toru :: so much sexual tension ꒱
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ didn't know where it all went wrong. one moment you were his pretty, preppy girlfriend. the girl who all the guys would die for and all the chicks wanted to be— and still, you chose him. some bumbling, stumbling, awkward and anxious nerd. the next? you were bitching at him for the smallest inconvenience. it was something stupid. he doesn't even remember. he thought you were just stressed with finals. thought it would all be better then next day. but then you ignored his texts. blocked his number. dropped his sweaters off to his room. three years of highschool sweethearts— gone.
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ cried like a baby when you left him. glasses fogged and skewed. hands trembling around a bouquet as he stood at your window, hoping you'd let him. all tears and snot and quivering lips as his croaky voice called—
“baby I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't know what I did, please take me back.”
you never did. never gave him the time of day. barely even batted an eye at him when you glanced out your window only to shut the curtains.
he sat on the sidewalk. crumpled bouquet in his hands and glasses shoved in hair rustled from all the gripping. shoulders shaking and sobs hiccupping. the girl of his dreams. his sweet girlfriend. gone. and he doesn't even know what he did wrong.
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ had to talk to someone about it. the rumours were flying all around. gossip and giggles about how the nerd finally screwed up and fumbled the prettiest girl in school. it made the already awful schooling experience worse for satoru. but what really hurt him most of all was when he'd pass you in the hallway while you chatted with your group of friends. you'd lock eyes when your friends nudged you, giggled, but you'd just frown and look away. you never laughed with them. but the silence was like a blunt pencil shoved straight through his heart.
he approached suguru. his best friend who attended another highschool. crying into his arms and shoulders and slobbering up his leather jackets with all the tears. he babbled about how much he missed you. how he didn't know how to fix it.
and that's when suguru gripped his shoulders. told him, “hey man, she's not gonna take you back, y'know that right?”
satoru's throat bobbed. he cracked a sob. “then what the fuck am I gonna do?”
“try something new.”
“huh?”
“try something new. something risqué. shake up your norm a bit so you don't have to think of her.”
he contemplated suguru's words. something new didn't sound too bad. every time he looked at his textbooks he'd think of all the awkward chemistry pick up lines he'd give you. and whenever he wore his hoodies he remembered how much you loved stealing them.
yeah. suguru's right. he needed something completely new. needed to turn his whole life around. but how?
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ got his first piercing. grief did things to him and he was desperate to distract himself. so he definitely jumped the gun a bit but hey— a tongue piercing should distract him enough, right?
he wouldn't admit that it was because this specific piercing was something you and him spoke about. when you were cradled in his arms and talking about the most random of things. he'd told you that suguru had gotten one and joked about getting one himself. he remembered the way you flinched. how you giggled and told him that you couldn't imagine your sweet boy with such a delinquent style.
he thought about your smile when the piercer pushed the needle through his tongue and tears bubbled on the corners of his eyes. when his hands shook and suguru held them tightly from the side.
this pain. it's nothing he's ever experienced. he choked a sob, his face blotched and thick, pretty white lashes damp and fluttering as he tried to hold still— but fuck. if it didn't make the dull ache in his heart better. maybe. . . he could get used to this.
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ let suguru guide him through his journey. it started with the fashion. he barely let the piercing on his tongue heal fully before he jumped for a set of stacked lobes. then a helix once those were healed. he seemed to quite like silver now. silver piercings, chains, rings. they looked good on him.
speaking about what looked good on him— the sweater and cardigans were fine and all, but he's quite liking leather now. the rougher look suits him— that's what suguru said.
within the next year he snatched himself some dimple piercings too. and some snakebites. tried some eyeliner— that brand worked well. it was from a small business. he preferred the messier kind.
the more he hung around suguru the more he realised a few things. realised what a shitshow the world around him was. usually he'd idly listen to suguru's tirades, tell him to be careful when he pushed back against authority. now. . . he was beginning to see things for what they were once his head wasn't nose-deep in a book. shit had to be done and he was already changing so hey, why not?
he started getting more confident. more bold. trying new things out, engaging with this change that had become a lifestyle. hell, a culture. he met new people that really opened his eyes.
nerds, preps, jocks and populars— they were all just the start of a box. a box that you obediently fit into so that the people up top could get you under their boot.
and that's when he got less stiff. started using knowledge more as a weapon rather than validation, rather than it being just something he was good at. he got louder, productive. mister goody-two-shoes had become quite the rulebreaker.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ was more sure of himself. he had fun now. let loose. stopped caring about what other people thought or him. he went to parties at night and protests in the day. loud, proud and honestly? not thinking about you. not much, at least. he had more things to worry about. like keeping his new daith piercing clean and keeping up with his new pins made from bottle caps.
maybe he got a little carried away with the alcohol and smoking when it came down to it. but whatever. no one's perfect, that's the whole point of what he is now.
and maybe at those parties he distracted himself with other girls cause he kept seeing your eyes in his solo cup. maybe a part of him still wasn't over you— no matter how much he loved his new life.
but whatever. other girls kissed him like you did. buried their hands into his hair and tugged on it just like you did. they wrestled his tongue in the way you hadn't— grabbed his waist and buried their nails in the same way you were afraid to.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ kept it a secret, but he held onto your photos for as long as possible. longer than he would have liked to admit. he couldn't help it, okay? you were suddenly off the map and he couldn't find you anywhere. but when suguru caught him scrolling through his secret little folder tucked away in some special place on his phone— he called him out. told him that it was holding him back.
so, satoru finally bit the bullet. selected the folder, pressed delete. and watched all the memories pour down the drain.
he denied the small tremble in his fingers. the ache in his heart. instead he forced himself to scoff: "sayonara, bitch.”
he was starting college in a month. he didn't need this.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ was late for his first day of college classes. couldn't help it. he did a run around the block with suguru putting some posters up. a new stir in the political sphere called for action— and satoru was all about action.
so when he walked into that lecture hall a whole twenty minutes late? with his bag strung over his shoulder and his glasses half-fogged? he didn't care. just stepped up the stairs and found a seat at the back row. one of the only empty seats.
he plopped down, ran his tongue over one of his snakebites out of habit and picked at his peeling black nail polish as he fished out a notebook.
and that's when he saw it. manicured nails. soft hands. his heart stuttered.
no fucking way.
his gaze cut to the side to find a familiar pair staring back. wide. was that shock? or horror?
his blue eyes hardened. oh. fucking. fantastic.
you.
"sweetheart," he hummed before he could stop himself. head crooked to the side as his cold stare raked over you. you hadn't changed much in fashion. your skirts were a bit more modest. hair neater. but you were quiet.
he grinned. eyes cutting back up to you.
and then. he finally let his tongue lash.
“nice to see you again. bit of a complex course for just a pretty face like you though," he glanced at the door label: quantum physics 101. then locked his smug stare back to you.
“wouldn't you say?”
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ went back to his dorm that day and tried to forget about it. that look in your eye. the way you hadn't even spoken to him after his little jab. what, were you still too good for him? couldn't even spare him a greeting?
he brushed it off. told himself it was pointless. he had way too many things to focus on than his ex girlfriend from highschool who broke his weak little heart back then.
he told himself he'd ignore you. but fate had other plans. the next day he was leaned up against one of the walls outside campus. just before class. cigarette between his lips and hands cupping his lighter.
that's when he felt it again. that stare.
he glanced up through his wispy bangs and caught you in the act. gawking at him as you were on your way to class. didn't you know staring was rude? then again, he shouldn't expect anything better from you.
his brows narrowed. teeth bit harder on the cig.
satoru took a deep drag. let the smoke fill his lungs in an attempt to ease the pinch in his gut. then slotted the cigarette between his fingers and drew it back. billowed a string of smoke and called out. crystal clear. rough. as he snatched his phone from his jacket pocket.
“take a fucking picture. it'll last longer.” without even looking up. you didn't deserve his eyes.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ ranted to suguru about you later that day. returning to his old habit of gripping and tugging at his hair out of frustration. fuck, you always brought the worse out of him. out of all the colleges you attended why'd it have to be this one? and why the hell did you keep staring at him like that?
“you know she's probably regretting it, right?” suguru piped up, looking up from his little project.
satoru stopped his pacing. glanced over his shoulder. “regretting it?”
“breaking up with you. I mean look at you now. quite the catch, y'know?”
“so what, she regrets breaking my heart and dragging my name through the mud all through highschool?”
“yup. she probably wants you bad.”
and that's when satoru decided that he had an opportunity here. to get back at you for all the shit you put him through. you were the catalyst of his very change, after all. now the object and accumulation of everything he loathed. so that's when he decided:
if you wanted him so bad now? he was gonna show you just how much he changed.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ started in class. what were you even doing here, in his field anyway? you weren't ever a bright stem light so why start now?
he wasn't kind. he used his intelligence like a weapon now, and unfortunately you were his new target. he'd belittle you whenever he had the chance. throw little comments that no one knew were about you— but you knew. and he adored your falters.
he pointed jabs, brutal truths. it didn't help that you were his seat partner for most of the semester.
you never snapped back anyway. just spared him a silent glance then went back to work. it irked him. you really never shook off that arrogance of yours, did you? whatever. it only made him worse.
“this is a little out of your league, right sweetheart?” he'd muse during a group project. a nickname that used to be so endearing, now just another lash of the whip that was his tongue.
“let the others handle it. you can just sit there and look pretty. maybe use your little highlighters to spiff things up, hmm?”
so what if the people in the group laughed at you? he didn't care. you sure didn't when it was him in your shoes.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ found out that you both signed up for the same organisation. what were you doing in the simple living org? that's not what you were about. you were all bright, and pretty and flashy— you weren't about making something out of nothing. maybe that's why he was even more frustrated when you decided to run for president. no way in hell was he gonna let someone like you be in a leadership for an organisation that held his values. so of course he signed up to run against you. yeah, he was mean. he was being a fucking dick during every meeting. but he didn't care. not when it came to you.
no matter how many times he'd catch your eyes whenever he made a statement. or when you'd huff at him. it just gave him a reason to lick his teeth and bite back.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ was unfortunate enough to end up behind you in the food court line. there you were, probably trying to figure out if you should have two pumps of hazelnut syrup or three. he couldn't help but roll his eyes. what was taking so long? still indecisive as ever.
he called from behind you. ordered for you since you were taking your own sweet time. he remembered your favourite drink. never could quite forget it. you probably didn't see it on the menu. silly girl.
and when you looked back with that same startled expression only to press your glossed lips together? he just huffed.
“still can't figure out what you want?” as he reached around to snatch the served drink and shove it into your hand. hopeless. you were hopeless.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ spotted you one day after class. talking to the professor. he hasn't caught much of the conversation. only that you were discussing something about extra credit.
maybe he jumped the gun a bit. assumed the worst because the image he'd built of you in his head told him that you were low enough to consider something like that. I mean— it made sense with recent events. how a culture change that came with aesthetics and confidence was all he needed to have your stare now when his last year of highschool was spent crying over the disgust in your gaze.
so of course, when people flooded the class and he walked his way up to the fated seat beside you, he shot you a look over his glasses. that same disgust in his eyes and a sneered smile on his pierced lips.
a hand full of rings gripped the back of your chair on the way to his. he muttered just above your ear.
“maybe show a lil more leg next time. sure it'll get people like you places.” as he patted between your shoulders and ignored your flustered surprise.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ noticed that you did that a lot. got flustered at almost every thing he did. whether it was invading your private space, or shooting a heated comment. you looked away. bunched your hands on your skirt and took a breath. he wasn't sure if it amused or frustrated him. seriously? was all it took a little confidence and a few changes for you to finally see him as something more than the awkward little boy who followed you around like a puppy?
whatever. it was fun to play with regardless. you were fun to play with.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ wasn't too impressed when the same professor seemed to enjoy playing with fate. satoru had been assigned to tutor you for the class he still wasn't sure how you got in to. he reluctantly went to your dorm with his textbooks and notes. huffed at your decor and threw a bunch of pointed comments before you both settled down to actually study.
but would you look at that— you couldn't look at him. cute little thing, weren't you?
you couldn't look him in the eye. stammered over your words when he shot you a look over the rim of his glasses and asked you if you understood. and don't think that he missed the way your thighs pressed together under the table when he clicked his tongue and called you silly for a little mishap.
he went to get a glass of water. spoke to you from the kitchen.
“y'know this would go a lot smoother if you could just pay attention.”
he couldn't help but sneak a glance at you. watched as you bristled and tried to distract yourself with highlighting your notes.
he approached as you struggled with an equation. clicked his tongue when you inevitably got the wrong answer.
“sorry, I just. . .”
“just what?”
he felt your shudder against his chest as he flushed against your back. leaning his hand over yours so that his cold rings pressed on your shaky fingers. guiding your hand holding the pen with his far larger one.
“just. . . can't focus when I'm around?” he urged your hand to write. restarting the equation. showing you just how wrong you were.
he felt your breath stuttered. heard how you cleared your throat.
oh, still such a cute thing, weren't you?
he chewed on his grin and leaned in. snakebites brushing on your burning lobe as he whispered. low, dangerous.
“do I make you nervous, sweetheart?”
he told himself to stop. but how could he with the way you shuddered when his free hand dropped and traced up your side. felt your skin beneath the tight, white button ups you always insisted on wearing.
his chuckle rumbled in a low rasp. “looks like someone changed from highschool. where's your flair, sweet thing?”
he nipped on your lobe. grinned wider as you bit back a whimper.
“wanna see how much my tongue's changed too?”
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ didn't go any further with you. no. he wouldn't let you back in so easy. you were gonna have to work for it. he wasn't your sweet boy anymore and you weren't his sweetheart. not really.
didn't mean that he didn't go back to his dorm throbbing in his ripped pants. didn't mean that he wasn't groaning— rough and wrecked as he dropped his pants and fisted his angry, hard cock. jerking his hand all messy as a nasty shlick shlick shlick filled the room. he pictured how your whimpers would compliment it.
he couldn't even get to his bed. he just slumped against the wall with his head tossed back and his white hair tousled. glasses shoved up in it. fucking his hand and imagining your mouth.
oh, he wanted to fuck your mouth. grip your hair and rub his prince albert piercing on your tongue. how would you react to that, huh? would you whine for him? try to hump his boot?
it was embarrassing how hard he came to the thought of it. squirting thick, creamy ropes all over his jacket but still jerking his hand like a madman. eyes rolled back and jaw tight to the thought of you. to how he'd make you hold that little skirt up while you ground your panties on his mouth. were they still pink, he wondered?
fuck. the way you'd moan. how you'd grip his hair with both hands and buck so weakly once you realised how much better he'd gotten with tongue. how would your clit feel under his tongue piercing? would you think that it suited him now?
and there he was. cumming for a second time. violent and messy as he ragged a harsh breath and choked your name back down his throat. eyes fluttering and knees shaky as she squeezed filthily on his tip.
fuck. he was gonna have so much fun with you.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ couldn't shake the image. even as he leaned against the chain linked fence on one of the faculty rooftops. smoking away his third cigarette and thinking about you. he came here to study, and yet there you were. filling up his head as usual.
he didn't expect you to find your way up there too. with a book tucked under your arm and freezing at the stairwell when you saw him.
he spared you a small glance. huffed and looked elsewhere as you came closer.
“don't you have some classes you should be failing?”
silence.
for a second he thought you left. good. he didn't need you becoming a permanent resident in his mind after he'd spent years trying to heartlessly evict you.
until he felt your presence right beside him. your sweet perfume wrapped around him and those doe eyes that made him bite his cigarette just a bit harder.
and then. you decided to make him laugh.
“you shouldn't be smoking on campus.”
quiet. but was that an edge? was that the bitch that he knew— finally dropping the act?
a flicker in his eyes. a stir in his gut. he snapped those cold blues over to you. “oh yeah?”
long fingers gripped your jaw. dragging you forward as he took a long drag. letting the nicotine hit his lungs and he stared the real addiction dead in her eyes. your eyes.
he withdrew the cigarette.
“who's gonna stop me?”
leaned close. too close. squishing your face and yanking you closer. lips ghosting yours. smoke pouring into your mouth as he held you still.
with a dark grin and a darker glare.
"you, sweetheart?"
as he blew the smoke into your smushed lips. hand slipping down to grip your waist with the cigarette resting between his fingers. flicking some of the ash onto your doll pumps.
you didn't push him away. no. you whined. hands clawing on his jacket. so he squeezed your face harder, glared deeper.
and despite everything screaming at him to just drop it—
his lips smashed to yours. teeth and tongue meshing. because in the end? he preferred the nicotine that was your plush mouth.
preferred the little obsession you kick-started in him all over again.
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