The last thing you wanted to do was get into an argument with your roommate and best friend. Yet you found yourself going back and forth with him & it didn’t look like it was coming to an end any time soon. 

“I don’t understand how I’m not allowed to have boys over but you’re free to bring home girls, it’s totally unfair Satoru!” You yelled, voice turning raspy. 

It’s been hours since this argument began and he was getting sick of it. 

“The difference between us is that I didn’t invite that girl over to fuck, did I?” He shot back, a vein forming at his temple. 

His hand reached up to his face, sliding off his glasses to set them aside on the counter. “I came home with her because we had a project to do and the library was closed. And you know this because I texted you earlier about it.”   

“So? She was totally giving you bedroom eyes!”

“And what if she was? Doesn’t mean I gave in and started humping her like a dog in heat. I’m not that easy, sweets.” 

But you were. 

You were not about to give in because he used your favorite pet name, and you definitely weren’t going to allow him to see the effect it had on you. 

“I don’t know why me bringing a boy over concerns you either.” 

“Watch that tone.” He warned. His eyes have darkened enough to match the late night shadows seeping into the kitchen, rain being muffled by the windows. Your lip trembled, being utterly frustrated. It’s not like you even did anything with the guy, you just wanted to make him jealous – get back at him for inviting that girl over. 

Satoru noticed your pout, sighing through his nose as all previous anger faded. “Baby.” 

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” He closed in, cupping your cheek in his warm hand. “You love it when I use sweet names on you.” 

You pulled away from his touch, still pissed. “We’re just roommates, that’s why.” That certainly got him to raise a brow, a slight tilt at his head as he took in your words. “Just roommates? Am I not your best friend? Am I not the one that makes you feel good?” 

Your breath hitched, knowing what he was referring to. 

You had come home stressed about some class and it didn’t help that it was ovulation week as well, making you all pent up. Thankfully, Satoru didn’t mind helping you out on the very counter he was leaning against. “What was your goal when you brought him over? To make me jealous? Get your pay back?” 

Well, yes. 

But you were not going to admit that so easily. 

“If I hadn’t made it clear enough, sweets, you’re the only girl I want. Why would I be stupid to put my dick inside someone who isn’t you?” His vulgar words strike again at your inner core, forcing your thighs to clench. 

“Satoru..” Your cheeks heated up. 

“I’m going to ask you again, and you’re going to answer honestly. Are we just roommates?” 

Of course not. Roommates don’t just allow the other to ride them like rabbits in heat the way you were doing right now. Your clothes were discarded on the floor, shaky hands rubbing up and down his abs all while he watched. 

A smirk was lifting at his lips, enjoying the way you struggled to do all of the work. He wanted to touch your tits, give them the little kisses they deserved. But hearing you beg for his touch was far better. 

“Please– I said I was s-sorry..” Your apologies fell upon deaf ears. This was your punishment after all. You could barely register your own pleas as his tip grazed your puffy folds. “You’re going to ride me and I’m not going to help for shit.” 

And he kept his word because he hasn’t done anything more than letting out the occasional grunt. It was genuinely pissing you off. 

“Please,” You tried again, leaving sloppy but sweet kisses on his lips that he didn't reciprocate. Not even when you picked up your pace or slowed it down did he react. 

Nothing was working. 

Not until he saw you begin to sob, hiding your pretty face in his neck did he soften up. “Hey, hey.. It’s okay, sweet girl. I forgive you, you did so good, took your punishment like the good girl you are. Don’t cry, you’re making me feel bad.” His expression softened, large hand rubbing the small of your back as he coo’ed in your ear at your hiccups. 

You sniffled, chasing your nearing orgasm now that he praised you. “Am gonna cum..” You gasped, clawing at his back. Satoru fully wrapped his arms around you, bouncing you harshly on his lap. “Go ahead.” 

White dots filled your sight when you spilled on his dick, legs trembling. He followed soon after, releasing deep in you. “Good job, baby. Don’t you ever think that shit again. I don’t want anyone but you, and it’s time to realize that.” 

DRIVE ME CRAZY!

starring ... SATORU GOJO?!

for valentine's day, satoru decided that he should stop being a loser and ask to be your valentine. you, the shy girl from his class that he has a crush on. well, safe to say he did a good job! ( 8k )

main ingredients ... SFW◞ student athlete!satoru gojo, fem!reader, NOT PROOFREAD, non-canon au, college au, fluff, basketball player satoru, pov alternating, jjk characters cameo, satoru is down bad ⁝ REPOST from carienations ◞ art © su2kuna. ( ✦ ) more works ◞ song to listen ◞ ao3.

notes in red ... tried proofreading this and realized i couldn’t be bothered, LMAO. i really enjoyed writing this back then, but trying to proofread it in present time actually feels daunting for whatever reasons; do excuse any mistakes, i wrote this while travelling back then, hihi. anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this one! reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

satoru is, truly, done for.

the student athlete who's one of this university's pride is beyond help, to be precise. he's doomed in any way possible to exist in this dimension he's in. how come? well, this six-foot-three basketball player has yet managed to ask the prettiest girl he ever laid his eyes on, for a date. and valentine's day is tomorrow, which means he only has little to no time on the clock, waiting for him.

oh, no, that's a bit of a stretch. because times never wait for anything or anyone, so it's either he throws away this sense of pride that's lingering in the air or he's doomed for life due to his inability in asking you out. that's right, you.

you, who somehow managed to tug the frosted-haired man's heart and attention, letting it shift to hover around your world. except, you have yet to find out about that truth— because satoru gojo is actually a loser in disguise of a rising star, student athlete.

he has act, at the very least, more than a hundred different scenario of him asking you to watch his match, which will be held tomorrow. to the mirror in his dorm. satoru is at loss of words from how his tongue would twist the moment it reaches the line of spending time with you. he's a student who major in communication, so how come having a conversation with you feels this impossible?

SATORU GOJO is the best tutor ! ꨄ︎

content.ᐟ 18+, nerd!jo, f!reader, oral sex (f receiving), swearing, pathetic!gojo, he cums in his pants, praise kink, art: @/leimiruu on x, w.c 550

saturo gojo is the best tutor a girl could ever ask for.

he helps get your grades up, teaching you those pesky topics your professor seems to skim right over, he's your personal cheerleader, and he eats you out after every session as a reward!

"oh– oh fuuuuck" your hands eagerly tug at his messy white hair, earning a choked, muffled moan right into your pussy. he's lapping at your cunt with so much vigor it could make you laugh if he didn't have you in such a vulnerable position. he has to be the best at everything he does, head being one of those things too, apparently.

"right there, toru–" you cry out, back arching off of the twin-sized dorm bed and thighs squeezing around his head tightly.

the sight of him has you growing impossibly close to your peak, his glasses completely fogged up and almost falling off, his mouth and tongue working tirelessly on your sensitive clit, and slick running down his chin obscenely. he's totally at your mercy, and he's exactly where he wants to be.

"s'pretty", "i love being with you", "taste soooo good" oh, that's another thing, he won't shut the fuck up. he blabbers on and on about how pretty you are, how good you taste, how smart you're becoming, anything that pops into his big brain whilst he's practically making out with your heat. even if the words are mostly incoherent.

"ohmygod– toru m'close" he literally whines at your words, and you feel the bed shaking from how hard he's humping the mattress under him. "please cum–" he lifts his head and replaces his tongue with a thumb on your clit, rubbing aimlessly while he talks to you. he's nearly whimpering every word, so needy. "cum f'me, s'only fair!" he's begging you, begging for a scrap of the attraction he feels for you.

his thumb pressing down hard on the sensitive nub and rubbing tight, messy circles is the thing that gets you, your orgasm crashing hard over you, leading you to yank on the strands of his hair a little too hard. again, he's exactly where he wants to be.

"oh– fuck!" he winces at the sting and moans, cumming right along with you, splurting cum into his boxers and letting his sweaty forehead fall against your mound as you both ride out your highs.

he eventually starts to give your clit little kitten licks until you're shooing him off of you, panting. "fuck..." you mutter, sitting up and smoothing your hair down in an effort to not look like you just got tongue-fucked by the campus nerd.

"you did really good!" he's back to talking about the assignment he went over, his voice cracking slightly, totally forgoing the fact that he just gave you a mind-blowing orgasm. "i think you'll definitely get an A!" he gives you a dazed, genuine grin, pushing his glasses up. your eyes flicker down to the obvious, dark wet stain on the front of his sweats, then back up to his flushed face.

"same time next week?" he asks, handing you your books, absolutely no shame in the fact that he just came in his pants like a virgin.

you manage a small smile, "sure, satoru." he's so kind, always makes sure you have the best grades in your class! all you need is a little motivation.

tw: cockwarming, sex (what else did u expect from me??)

"you are soo bad at this game"

your voice cut through the slashing and grunting sounds coming out of the video game your boyfriend was currently playing. you didn't even know the name of it, but you knew it was boring as fuck. your boyfriend's eyes drifted from the screen to gaze at you, lips parted and ready to protest at your remark before the character on the screen collapsed once more.

"fuck! maybe if you stopped making comments every two seconds, i would be able to end this shitty boss"

you could only roll your eyes at his behavior. poor guy is lying to himself, you thought. but you knew better than argue, this man's ego inflated like crazy whenever he got the controller in his hands. he was cute though, eyes focused, jaw tensed, breathing slightly shallow... god it was torture to look at him without being able to pull him into a kiss.

"just hurry up and beat him... do you know how hard it is to stay still?" your whiny tone almost made him twitch inside you. he couldn't deny it, it was hard to stay still for him too. your walls were just clenching to well around his cock, the tightness and warmth keeping him painfully hard.

"but we agreed on-"

"i don't care about that. it's been 30 minutes, i can't take it anymore!" your walls clenched tighter around his dick, as if your body was agreeing with your words. a strangled moan escaped his lips, hips jerking forward to thrust into that familiar heat. at that moment, you knew it: he lost for real this time.

the controller went flying across the room and you found his arms gripping your ass to lift you up. his cock dragged along your walls, the tip almost slipping out of your hungry hole before he lowered you back on it. a whimper tore from your mouth as he hit your spot, a rush of pleasure coursing down your spine after an eternity of waiting and craving for it. your hands grabbed his shoulders like an anchor, nails biting the skin in a pathetic attempt to not already cum on the spot. his dick was just too good. filling you up to the brim and stimulating your sweet spot with every thrust.

lifting your head, you saw the look on his face - hungry, lustful. but when your eyes met? his gaze suddenly softened, filled with affection. a hand came up to your face, cupping it to pull you into a sweet kiss while his thrusts slowed, now deep and purposeful. your hands slid down to his forearms, holding the meaty flesh to steady yourself. the constant stimulation soon overpowered your self-control and you felt yourself tilting over the edge. he sped up his thrusts when he felt you coming apart, fucking you through your orgasm anddd past it.

you figured he was just really pent-up from the cockwarming session but the pressure in your stomach increased as he kept drilling his cock into you without signs of stopping. soon enough, pleasure coiled again inside you and you knew you would be cumming again if he didn't get over with it in the next seconds.

"what the hell are you doing, just come already" you weakly pushed against his arms, squirming on his lap as you started to feel overwhelmed with the pleasure he was procuring you. your walls squeezed him harder, a telltale sign of you being at the edge again.

"i thought after cockwarming, we could try overstimulation too, no?"

✮⋆˙

the soft glow of your phone lit the room as you lay sprawled across the bed, one leg bent beneath the blankets while your thumb mindlessly flicked from one post to the next. you’d barely register anything you’d looked at in the last 20 minutes, your thoughts drifting elsewhere every few seconds. to him.

megumi had only been gone a few days, called away on an extensive mission that had kept him out longer than either of you had expected. you were used to missions, they came with the territory, but that didn't make the apartment feel any less empty while he was away.

the quiet click of the bedroom door pulled you from your thoughts and you looked up immediately.

a little paler than when he'd left, megumi stepped inside, looking every bit as worn out as you expected. his uniform was wrinkled, his hair a mess, and the exhaustion on his face was impossible to miss. even standing in the doorway, he looked like he was running on whatever little energy he had left, the tension evident in the slow rise and fall of his breathing.

a smile found your lips before you could stop it, greeting softly, "hey, gumi..”

he lingered by the door for a moment, eyes finding you almost immediately. "hey," his voice was quieter than usual.

for a split second, something softened in them. there was a flicker of need, small enough that anyone else would've missed it. it vanished just as quickly, hidden beneath his usual calm expression. the moment passed almost as quickly as it came.

“..i’m gonna change,” he murmured.

you nodded. “take your time.”

a minute later, he stepped back into the room wearing a loose black shirt and sweatpants. his damp hair clung slightly around his forehead, evidence he'd at least splashed some water on his face before changing. he tossed the crumpled uniform over the back of a chair before making his way toward the bed.

he looked more comfortable. still exhausted. the mattress dipped as he sat beside you.

you smiled to yourself, resisting the urge to immediately throw your arms around him. you’d missed him more than you cared to admit, but one look at him told you he probably needed a second to simply breathe. so you let him, your attention drifting back to your phone.

a few quiet moments passed. then you felt yourself slide ever so slightly across the mattress. you frowned.

another gentle tug. looking down, you found megumi’s hand resting against your waist, fingers hooked in the fabric of your shirt. he wasn't pulling very hard, just enough to coax you closer to him.

there wasn't any urgency behind it either. he wasn't trying to drag you over, just patiently encouraging you, inch by inch.

you blinked at him.

"what’re you doing?"

he stayed quiet.

instead, he gave your side another small tug.

"gumi?"

only then did he look at you. the exhaustion lingering in his eyes somehow made them softer, less guarded than usual. "..c’mere.”

you giggled quietly. "i am here."

a tiny sigh escaped him, one that sounded almost amused despite how tired he was. he shook his head once. "..no."

his gaze dropped to his lap before lifting back to yours. "here."

realization dawned on your face. "..oh."

a grin spread across your lips. “you've been trying to pull me onto your lap?"

the faintest hint of color dusted his ears. "..maybe."

"you know," you teased, setting your phone on the nightstand, "you could've just asked."

"i did."

"barely."

“you gonna sit or not?”

despite your teasing, you shifted over without another word, carefully settling onto his lap.

the moment your weight rested against him, his hands instinctively found your waist, adjusting you just enough so you were comfortable before letting out a slow, tired breath.

his shoulders noticeably sagged. like he'd been holding himself together all day and had finally been given permission to stop.

a quiet breath escaped him as he rested his forehead against your shoulder, his eyes slipping shut.

"there," you murmured, slipping your fingers into his hair. "better?"

"much."

his hands ran up and down your sides, absentminded and comforting. it had only been a few days, but now that he was here, you realized just how much you'd missed touching him, running your fingers through his hair, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, knowing he was safe.

"missed you," he admitted, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

“i missed you too."

the room fell quiet again.

you couldn’t help but lean down and give him a quick kiss despite the silence. he answered with another, lips parting slightly before pulling back. his palms slid around your waist, fingers spreading wide as they traveled down to grip your hips.

"your skin feels good," megumi said against your mouth. "missed touching you."

“yeah? thought of you every night, gumi. wanted you home so bad..”

another short kiss. then a longer one where his tongue brushed yours briefly. his hands moved again, one staying at your hip while the other slipped higher under your shirt, tracing the curve of your side.

you shifted and he pushed the fabric higher, exposing more skin as his fingers trailed up to brush the underside of your breasts. the slight friction sent a small jolt down his spine.

"shiiit.. right there, pretty," he breathed when you started rocking your hips slowly. the thin cotton of your panties rubbed against the front of his sweatpants, and he could feel himself hardening beneath you. "yeah, keep doin’ that.. feels too good."

you ground down again, a little firmer this time, and megumi groaned softly into the next kiss. short pecks alternated with deeper ones as his hands roamed freely, squeezing your hips, sliding back to your ass, cupping your chest through the loose shirt.

"god, you're so soft," he groaned into the kiss, his hand shifting to give your ass a gentle, playful smack. the sound echoed in the quiet room, making you gasp, which only seemed to encourage him. he smacked you again, a bit firmer this time, before kneading your backside like he was trying to mold you to his body.

"you’re getting hard already," you giggled between kisses.

the sensation of your panties against his sweatpants was agonizingly perfect. you could feel the thick, hard length of his dick pulsing beneath the fabric, straining against the waistband of his sweatpants.

"can’t help it," he replied, voice a bit rougher now. "not when you're moving like that on my dick."

his thumbs circled your nipples through the fabric while his other hand dipped lower, fingers tracing the edge of your panties before returning to your waist. another grind made him twitch, and he pulled you closer for a messy kiss, tongues meeting briefly.

"don’t stop," megumi urged. "wanna feel you like this.. all of you."

you ground down harder, a slow, circular motion that had him arching his back, a low moan escaping his throat. his hands flew back down to your ass, gripping you tightly and pulling you flush against his erection. you rolled your hips once more, the friction building steadily against his growing erection. he nipped at your bottom lip, hands never still, sliding around your back, lifting your shirt again to run his palms up your sides and over your chest.

"love how you feel on me," he said quietly. "grinding on my dick ‘nd shit.. keep going."

short kisses punctuated every movement, turning into longer, hungrier ones as you continued the slow rhythm. his hands stayed busy, gripping, stroking, occasionally pushing the shirt higher so he could touch more of your bare skin.

"tired as hell but i really can’t get enough of you," megumi muttered against your lips, giving your ass another sharp smack, the sting mixing with the pleasure of your bodies rocking in sync. his name slipped from your lips in a breathless gasp, earning nothing more than an amused purse of his lips.

mdni

It’s so cute to him when you’re crying, at the edge of the bed, legs in the air, completely naked and shaking under him. Orgasm after orgasm he makes you take it and his words are as sweet and sugary as he.

Sugurus dick is so thick and warm inside your gummy walls so comfy to slide in. All in your tummy. Nice, warm and creamy. “Mmmh, yes I know my sweetie. It’s so cute when you take it.” pushing in deeper inside your walls making you dizzy, head spinning. “My poor honey..” he speeds up a little and you let out a sound between a cry and a yelp—you’re not too sure. “Eeehhh!!” You shut your eyes and breathe in and out. “Eeehhh?”

“Mocking me!” You cry out again as you feel another orgasm spearing through you. “Oh honey..just a little..but you can take more baby, can’t you?” You give him a small nod. “Mmmh..that’s it angel. You make me so proud.”

And he truly believes that. He knows that.

His hips smack into yours as bubbles and seeps of mixed white cum flow down from your cream filled pussy and down your twitching asshole. Breeding you. He believes in you, he knows his dick is big but coaxing you softly into orgasms is so much fun. “Look how well it fits.” What he really means is ‘look at the way your body fits me like a glove, your pussy is perfect for me, even if I have to stretch it a little :(’.

He splays his large hand on your tummy and pushes down so you can feel his dick so warm, creamy and comfy inside your gummy walls hugging him so tightly. Then he makes you cum again, over and over and over so your pussy is slobbering with cum. Fat tears and small sniffles bouncing off the walls when he’s overwhelming your poor puffy pussy. “Suguuu!” You pout.

“That’s it my love, now cum again and let me see your love faces.♡”

───♡──────────────

ꉂ (′̤ॢ∀ ू‵̤๑))ˉ̞̭♡ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡: @cuntphoric-main @zukobendsme @cuntphoric @nonamedreams @lilithkleia @levisfatjuicycock @sapph22 @manonism @insanjity @stqrgumi @lemonzie @angelicwhispersofsin @dearkuna @izuruverse @serpenttine @daflex @animewhoreswrld @yoonsucks @mystickittenpurr

───♡──────────────

Frat AU Hockey!Gojo who is the captain of the hockey team—and insufferably handsome—is wrapped around the campus shy girl’s finger, unintentionally so, he was intending on having her clinging onto him. But oh how the tables have turned when she's the one playing with him. Inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's: Don't worry, I'll make you worry.

Tags: [MDNI] porn with plot, hate sex, missionary, fucking against a locker, exhibionism (?), breeding, p in v raw, praise kink if you look hard enough for it, oral (f receiving).

You do and will do just about anything BUT put up with the hockey captain’s bullshit.

Six months ago you became the victim of your college’s biggest star, Gojo Satoru.

You don’t really know why or how it even started. Just that one day, you entered your typical high-school playboy’s radar who hasn’t grown out of being immature and insufferable

He’s a Tokyo prodigy, grew up rich like they all apparently do and unfortunately for you, with enough looks to put up with his cocky attitude.

And somehow that’s the worst part. The idiot can flaunt left and right his greatness because the world just works in his favor. Despite his riches too, he’s on a full ride at JJKU for hockey just to rub salt into the wound even deeper.

So when he approached you half a year ago on a random day in October back in the library, catching you in an all nighter, knee deep in some math homework, you smelled lt the fishiness from miles away.

What was he doing talking to you?

You, who does not study anything that has to do with sports or his world or who doesn’t even want to do anything with his side of paradise.

You, who has never had a boyfriend and never peaked in high-school, who surely isn’t interested right now in getting to know anyone that isn’t the response to your math sheet exercises.

And you who most definitely was not about to get played by the school’s pretty boy.

Gojo was clad in a dark blue sweatshirt with the school’s logo slapped on the front, messy white hair under the pulled up hood, glasses sliding off his nose bridge despite it being three in the morning and matching sweatpants.

Looking entirely too good—objectively so—when you know he doesn’t even have to try to look that way.

You had moved onto a rathole for a research essay, something professor Gakuganji swore he could not leave class before assigning when Gojo finally stopped beating around the bush.

He strolled over, smacking his chewing gum against his molars over and over again—way too loudly for someone in a library—and rooted himself by your messy desk where papers were scattered all over and your face was illuminated by the artificial light of your laptop.

With your earbuds plugged in, of course you didn’t take notice of the towering 6 foot 3 menace looming over you from behind.

But one poke on your shoulder and your soul almost left your body. Instantly your face reddened, a fresh tomato shade spreading across your cheeks, ears and neck.

And Satoru, laughed. Like he wasn’t in your personal space—a stranger’s personal space.

You remember how your first encounter went with him.

Plucking out one of your earbuds just in time to hear him say:

“What’cha doin?”

Just what was he doing?

You hesitated before replying. “Um, studying?”

His eyes rolled back over his glasses. “Duh, what else do you do at a library?” Not liking his response, or whatever this conversation was, you slightly nodded at the time and began to turn back around.

“Hey! Don’t turn around! We haven’t finished, tell me your name.” Embarrassment, pure and unfiltered embarrassment ran down your spine at the loudness of his voice. Squirming in your seat from the looks he’s attracted, you whisper back. “Why should I tell you my name?”

His lip caught in between his teeth as he pondered a reason, a second later a smile came on his face.

“Because I want us to get to know eachother-”

You cut him off. “Can you quiet down-”

“Gojo. Gojo Satoru.” He finished for you, wide smile plastered on his face. All pearly whites showing.

You sighed, realizing he wouldn’t let you go so easily. “Nice to meet you Gojo, I’m L/N Y/N.”

At the time, you assumed that if you gave him what he wanted now, he would disappear with it and then you’d lay low enough for him to completely forget about you.

Oh how you were wrong.

Monday morning, October 27th, not even a week after the encounter you see a tall figure that has never been inside of your statistics class walk in.

Oh no.

Said figure walked up right to where you were sitting, row seven at the far back to be invisible, and plopped down right next to you instead of the thirteen other chairs.

The backpack that was slung over his shoulder unceremoniously fell down on the chair, a plop noise reaching your ear before his lanky body turned to face you.

“Good morning, Y/N!”

That was when the rumours started.

Gojo Satoru knows the quiet girl at the back? Has our time finally come? What is going on?

You tried to physically disappear. He kept showing up.

Tuesday 28. Laptop open infront of you, essay halfway done, a freshly brewed warm cup of coffee by your notes, perfect cinnamon roll sitting by it.

It was the perfect evening. The perfect balance between studying and relaxing.

Then the door chime rung, a figure ducked under the door, and before you could even catch up to his face, you knew your evening was ruined.

He didn’t even try to act like he came for a drink, aiming for your table at the back immediately when he recognised you amidst the faces.

“Y/N! What a coincidence, saw you from outside and came to say hi.”

“Hi.” You quietly muttered back.

A frown came from him. “Have you forgotten my name already?” His lips turned downwards like you personally hurt him.

Taking a sip of your coffee, you licked your upper lip to get rid of the foam that clung onto them and slowly shook your head no.

“Good evening, Gojo.”

Satisfied, he smiled. Doing a quick once-over, he then began itching closer to you and angling himself to see what was on your computer.

“Still working on that essay?”

“Yeah.” You breathed out, feeling the ends of his pale hair brush against your shoulder from how hunched over he is.

Picking at your cinnamon roll with your fork caught his eye. And he ended up eating your cinnamon roll while pestering your occupied mind with topics that left you with no idea what he was talking about.

Wednesday. He coincidentally shops at the same grocery store you do. One peek at his shopping cart—candy, candy, donuts, condoms—and you know his excuse of “What a coincidence, you shop here too?” Is bullshit.

And your decision to not fall for his tricks tenfold.

A few awkward interactions from your sides here and there, you mainly brushed him off until Thursday.

Thursday morning you saw him in statistics again. Green hoodie swallowing his torso, loose fit jeans, same bag thrown over his shoulder—seemingly empty.

It was empty. He asked you for a pen and you gave him one. Where was the harm in lending a classmate a pen when in need?

Except, you lent a pen to Gojo.

It shouldn’t have surprised you when he showed up that same evening at 11 P.M. at your door when you were in your tiny pyjamas , lounging around—not thinking about anyone coming to bother you.

Wrong, one look through the peephole and your world came crashing down. You answered the door with a blanket covering your body.

“Gojo… What are you doing here at this hour..?” You asked, looked around the corridor to see if anyone else caught sight of him.

The campus pretty boy cannot be caught at the girls dorms especially not after 6 P.M. so you were mortified some para social fangirl would find him here and ruin your life.

He shrugged and pulled out a pencil from his back pocket. “I came to bring you your pen!” Exclaiming way too loudly for the time it was.

“And I have to ask you something.” Suddenly he turned serious.

After a second of chewing on your inner lip and pondering whether you should let him in, you do.

You kindly asked him “Do you want something to drink?”

“Anything is fine.” So you opted to make him some tea, figuring that whatever he was about to say would take some time.

He dramatically fell down on the couch, you sat on the other keeping your legs tucked under yourself.

You both sat in silence for a minute while he took a look around your apartment. Observing the fairy lights hung around the ceiling, the portraits you have of who he assumes is your family, the simple trinkets you have around the apartment.

Finally, the silence broke when he said “So, I wanted to invite you to my party Friday.” He simply said, as if you were someone who went to those functions.

So you ask him, “Do I look like someone who would go to parties? Much less your parties, Gojo?”

His face comically scrunched up, as if your words had winced him. Though you knew they didn’t when his facial muscles fell into a frown.

“Ouch. What’s wrong with my parties?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “They have a reputation.”

A grin jumped onto his face. “Of being the best, I’m aware.”

Eerily smiling, he took a sip of his chamomile tea and cringed, “Jesus, do you have sugar? This tastes like grass.” while you thought about your next words.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Seems like you had hit a nerve with that because his eyes jumped out of their sockets at that. “What the hell do you mean whatever helps me sleep at night? My parties are the best-”

“The answer is no, Gojo-”

Apparently he didn’t like the sound of his name spilling from your lips either. “Satoru.”

You grimaced, “I’ve known you for a week max.”

His head fell sideways, “So?”

Internally, you groaned. “So, I’m not going.”

“Oh come onnn, leave this place for a while will ya? My party is going to be-”

“Gojo—

“Satoru.” He corrects.

“—you don’t even know me-”

“I will! Come to my party.”

It’s late, almost midnight. You’re not dressed to host but there’s a 6 foot 3 playboy on your couch begging you to come to his party when the most he probably knows about you is your apartment complex and living room.

A heavy sigh presses past your lips. “Fine.”

Almost as if your words were the on button to disneyland, Satoru lights up. “You’ll come?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s a yes.”

“Maybe is a maybe.”

Maybe turned out to be a yes.

“Girl, why are you even doing this?”

Mei mei is the most superficial, materialistic, bratty, unloyal—the list unfortunately could go on—friend you have. But she's actually the only social butterfly from your acquaintances that actually goes to parties.

So she's the only one you can go to for these kinds of functions. It's needless to say that you are dreading spending the night attached to her hip, which leads you to the same question she's actually asking you.

Why are you doing this?

You don't owe Gojo Satoru a single minute of your time. For fucks sake, you don't know the man. Parties aren't even your thing. So why are you dressed in Sally from Toy story's costume while Mei Mei readjusts her tiny—leaving little to the imagination—scandalously short euphoria-themed dress that has you swallowing bundles of nervousness at her possibly flashing someone with any minor movement?

Deciding that no matter how long you ponder the question, you won't find an answer and it's already too late to change your mind as you're in your costume—adding the finishing touches: freckles and curling the ends of your hair in a ponytail—you simply shrug Mei Mei off.

Half an hour later, Mei's boyfriend of the week—some guy from her economics class you swear has to just have popped into the school because you have never seen him—drops both of you in front of Satoru's mansion while he parks out back.

And fuck.

He really does have the money and privilege to be so full of himself.

Tall structured while walls, french style architecture—balanced, symmetrical sides—a huge as wooden door pried open where bodies storm in and out of the building.

The party has been going on for around two hours when your feet drag themselves forward and past a multitude of buzzed, drunk and high people who sway left and right to the DJ's mix who you could see working from the second floor balcony once you reached the back yard.

It's electric, people are having fun. At least that's what it looks like.

There's fog around Gojo's unnecessary huge pool where the guests are around—and if this is some cliché movie, they'll all jump inside and skinny dip at some point when the alcohol has really got to them.

You didn't even realize Mei Mei has already ran off from your side when you stopped scanning the place.

Panic quickly starts to grow under your skin. This isn't your kind of space, and you surely didn't want to be here alone. Anxiety latches onto your breathing, making it go shallow—breaths too short, not bringing enough oxygen to your blood.

Your head starts to spin, the smell of marijuana and vodka starting to be the only thing invading your nostrils—and white musk? What?

A hand finds it's way around your waist and your heart aggressively slams itself against your chest from the scare.

Soon enough, Satoru's cheeky smile comes into view, and then his whole face once you crane your head upwards to meet his eyes.

Just a bit, you relax. Breathing evening out, heartbeat steadying from seeing a familiar face. You're not particularly happy to see him, but he is the one who called you here after all.

"Oh, the princess came?" He muses. "Welcome to my party."

Gojo is... dressed in a fucking woody costume.

Woody. From Toy Story. As in the Toy Story your own costume is from. What are the odds.

How is it that every person in this room is wearing a costume not even remotely close to Toy Story—which, last time you checked was the most overused idea hence why it was so easy to find at the Halloween store—but Gojo is coincidentally wearing the one character that yours is shipped with.

And god help you does he look good.

Too good.

His broad frame—jacked arms, bulky legs, veiny forearms revealed from his sleeves being pushed up, bundled around his elbows—pressing against the cotton yellow and red striped checkered shirt under his cow print vest. Matching your flare pants.

A cowgirl and a cowboy.

Great.

Just great.

His fan girls will have your head by tomorrow morning.

You roll your eyes at his cheesy welcome.

"Look at that, we're matching!" He brightens up once his eyes finish raking over your every curve, dip of skin under the clothes, costume.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes even further this time. Growing uncomfortable under his dangerous stare, his large hands on your waist keeping you grounded in a way they shouldn't and the people pushing around you.

He notices. "Hey? You okay?"

Recieving no reply from you and only a doe-eyed look that spoke without you needing to part your pretty lips (and that made his pants grow a bit too tight for his liking), his hands leave your waist and grab one of your wrists before pulling you away and off to somewhere else.

Climbing a hidden pair of polished marble stairs in the kitchen, you reached a room tucked away in the giant lively mansion.

It's a sanctuary so different from everything else. The room is cozy, galaxy projector in the corner painting the roof in stars and material dreams are made of. A blue bean bag in the corner, one red next to it.

A TV screen in the middle with a PS5 under it. A couch pressed against a wall where he leads you to. The heels of your cowboy boots dig into the rug underneath you silently.

He plops down first onto the brown leather, man spreading as he gets comfortable and while his hand still on your wrist brings you down to sit next to him.

You sit, half uncomfortable from the proximity, half relived you're away from the chaos.

Satoru wastes no time in shattering the short-lived silence you were in.

From behind the closed door, you can hear the faint sound of "The Color Violet" by Tory Lanez play, typical party song, over his smooth voice.

"So, why'd you end up coming?"

Your eyes narrow to him, back peeling off the couch to lean closer to him, a faint but purposeful frown wedged between your features. "Are you not happy to see me?"

His lower lip catches between his teeth as he bites is, tension building as you see his eyes locked on your lips and your mock pout.

"No, I am glad you came." He says.

You sink back onto the couch, shrugging. "You talked so much about this party and I got curious."

There's a smile on his face now, amused. "And?"

"Curiosity kills the cat."

He winces. "Ouch, seriously?"

"Yes." You deadpan.

Now it's his turn to pout, though he can't hold it as his entertained smile keeps breaking through. "Aw come on Y/N, It's not bad."

You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest and admitting. "It's not. Just not my kinda place."

"I can make it your place." He coyly says as an arm of his finds the headrest behind your head. Body turned sideways to you now.

Your head spins to him. "How?"

His eyes, hungry and with a dangerous glint behind them, trail up from your neck to your lips, to your eyes and you feel your pulse picking up.

"You look good in that costume, you know?" The tip of his tongue sticks out as it pokes his canine.

"That's not what I asked." You shoot back, feeling something weird pool in your stomach.

He continues nonetheless, "People might think we are dating."

The scoff you let you is accidental, but it lands. "As if I'd ever date you."

He laughs. Propping his head on his now bent arm that was draped behind your frame. "They all say that."

And the tension grows while you stay quiet. Eyes locked onto his. His heat reaching your skin without even touching you, his minty breath fanning your cheek as he looks down at you.

While there's fire, annoyance and defiance behind your irises. Lust, passion and amusement cloud his.

You smirk because his tricks may work on many girls but you have no intention of being his bitch.

A manicured hand of yours finds the center of his chest, right on the sternum as you push him back. The hand his head was on stretches out again as he's put into his original position.

The couch makes squeaky noises as his body sinks back on it. His legs open again, manspreading and pressing against your thigh. Pants clinging to his thigh and making a sinful sight.

Not letting him react, you take the chance to throw your thigh over his before he's fully settled in. You straddle him as he grows red, face twisted into surprise.

The grin on your face softens around the corners as you peer down at him now. Feeling the hardness under his jeans grow and press at you. Satoru is shocked out of his words.

Arms open by his sides onto the couches top while your hands settle on his shoulders. You push the cowboy hat off of his head, leaving only yours on. His soft bundles of impossibly white hair stick up.

You brush them down with your fingernails at an excruciatingly slow pace. Making sure to shift the slightest bit, unnoticeable if someone were to see you both, but enough to make electricity shock Gojo's body over and over as his hard cock receives the stimulation.

His breath hitches, a pathetic little sound that snaps him out of it. Out of the haze you had momentarily caught him in. His hands fly to your waist, stilling you on his lap and locking you over his boner in place. Eyes darkening as you zero on the fact that you've lost the upper hand.

Satoru's voice rings close to your ear from how close your faces are. "Oh? What are you doing, angel?"

Swallowing the anxiety in your throat, you wet your lips and watch how his eyes flicker to them. You smile down at him, "Satoru, I'm not them."

You feel his chest vibrate when he chuckles. "Yeah?"

Your hands run over his collarbones, deliberately slow. Watching every fiber of his body betray him as his muscles tense under your touch.

"Yeah."

Sky blue eyes looking up at you, trying to find what you're intending to do.

You kiss his cheek.

And slide off.

Fix your hat on your head.

Don't look back.

And leave.

"See you."

Satoru knows you’ll crack sooner or later.

He’ll be buried to the hilt inside your pussy and leave you dry the next day.

He just needs to test a friend’s theory.

That’s all.

Monday mercilessly came once more.

Satoru had practice like always. From the start of the week till Friday they train, train and train. Off-ice conditioning and on-ice mechanics. Brutal drills.

Loads and loads of cardio resulting in him and Suguru leaving the rink with a parched throat, adrenaline pumping high and their clothes sticking underneath to their skin.

Not to mention the explosive, hard workouts their coach has them do for lower-body strengths. Most hockey players don't dare to sign up for the gym because of them.

Yaga keeps them fit. Diets, core power workout, high-intensity stuff that would have a normal college student fainting on round one.

Suguru is boasting about his new stick, 345 grams. The lightest one he's found by now. Probably going to allow him to be faster and more efficient on the ice—and last less.

Well, it would be breaking on the first match with Satoru. He's not really known for being calm when he gets played.

But as his best friend rambles to Choso, and apparently him, Suguru notices Satoru is uncharacteristically silent. Mind somewhere else. Eyes glued to the ceiling.

He hisses at him. "Yo, idiot. What are you looking at?"

Satoru's head snaps back into place, head spinning from the sudden movement.

"What?" He asks at the two men looking at him like he has a third head.

"What's up with you?" Suguru questions, eyebrow lifted.

Choso nods, his helmet bouncing against his leg. "Where were you Friday?" He asks out of the blue.

Gojo shrugs like it's obvious. "At my party, duh?" Uncertain of what they're trying to paint here.

The other long haired, pierced raven haired man groans. Choso continues. "No shit, bro."

Suguru sweeps in. "You disappeared for a while. Couldn't find you anywhere."

His throat goes dry. This has never happened before.

Come on, Satoru. Shrug it off. Smirk and say you snuck off with some girl.

While he struggles to find an answer, making him look suspicious in front of his friends, an insufferable green haired man skates over to crash their conversation.

"Gojo."

He snaps out of his thoughts to be met with the unpleasant face of Naoya Zenin. "What do you want, Zenin?"

The three men stare at the newcomer with serious expressions, clearly unamused by his arrival.

"When did you start inviting losers to your parties?"

"I don't know, when did you start coming?"

Naoya shrugged it off. Grew the shit-eating grin on his face and continued "Care to explain what Y/N L/N was doing at your party Friday?"

Satoru tensed under the layers of clothes he was wearing.

But he deflected quick. "Fuck am I supposed to know? Mei Mei came with her."

The Zenin hummed, shooting him a strange look before leaving unconvinced.

Suguru and Choso were turned to Satoru by the time Naoya's figure disappeared.

"Y/N? The Sally girl?" Tries Choso.

"Apparently." Replies the white haired center.

The week flies by abnormally quick with Satoru catching no sight of you. Not even in stats.

Till Saturday.

November caught up to you after the cursed Halloween party. A cold knocking on your door on the first and leaving you bedridden to miss your classes.

Saturday you felt well enough and to celebrate studying so much while sick, trying your best to keep up with your classes—and totally not doing to keep your mind off sitting on Satoru's lap—you went out for coffee.

The off-campus coffee shop is the best local one. Tucked away at a five minute walk from your apartment, Mimi's cafe always greets you with the same atmosphere.

The sound of coffee grinding in the background, slow jazz spilling from the vintage record player in the corner, perfectly chosen wooden tables with mug stains that make it all the more cozier.

It's heaven on earth.

But you get your cappuccino to go today, needing to stop by the post office and pick up an order in a few minutes.

"Hey, chlo. One cappuccino please—" You start, smiling up at Chloe, a barista you'd become a regular to.

"I know, Y/N." She smiles, typing down the order.

"—And one hot chocolate with extra whip cream, chocolate flakes on top for me please. By card."

Satoru's smooth voice sends a chill down your spine as his chest presses against your frozen figure and taps his card while Chloe silently complies.

You look at him from your peripheral vision. Catching the cream wool scarf around his neck, his heavy dark blue coat and the pink tip of his nose.

"What are you doing here?" You whisper as you move to the waiting zone, him following with his hands shoved in his pockets by your side.

"Buying you a drink, pretty."

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know." He grins.

You suspiciously eye him. "What do you want?"

"Where have you been all week? Haven't seen you since.." Satoru trails off.

You internally wince. "Way to dodge my question."

A deep sigh leaves his chest. "Fine you caught me."

"Spill." You urge.

"Come to my game tomorrow."

Uh.

What is it with this dude inviting you everywhere?

He continues, a colly smirk on his handsome face you wish you could slap. "Cheer for me."

Ding!

An idea comes into mind. You pretend to ponder for a second.

Then you hum. "Sure."

He brights up.

He has no idea.

No idea that the very next day, Sunday, you will in fact attend his game.

However, not in blue.

Not in dark blue and white stripes with JJKU's logo printed in the middle.

But in red.

Red and white stripes.

With the number 19 on the back.

Sukuna Ryomen.

Rival team's center.

Sukuna motherfucking Ryomen.

Also nationally known as Satoru, star of JJKU'S hockey team's enemy.

They're the kind of rivals that drive each other up the wall. Bodies slamming against the boards. Sticks constantly clashing in fight for the puck.

Yelled insults, shoved bodies, bleeding lips and bruised skin in result.

They have history and tension.

You're there to play Satoru.

He said to come.

You did.

But you're not obedient enough to cheer him on.

Yorozu eyes you from her seat on the bleachers next to you, arms wrapped around herself and trying to heat her cold arms up under her cardigan by rubbing her hands over them.

You're not cold as you swim under Sukuna's jersey. 19 stitched onto your back, Ryomen in big white letters as his school's emblem sits on your chest.

"Last time I checked you study at JJKU and they wear blue." She points out, trying to riddle whatever you were doing.

"Correct!" You applaud. The red flag in your hand shaking as you do so.

She doesn't try to question you again.

Only glues her eyes to the rink once the speakers boom and the players spill onto the ice.

Satoru comes out last.

Hands in the air, stick shaking as he waves it to the many figures on the bleachers, secretly searching for a certain someone.

And then his eyes find you under his helmet.

And he stops moving.

His figure stills.

Halfway to the center.

He's shooting daggers at you.

You're smiling sweetly like you're buzzing with excitement for the game to start.

Sukuna shouts something that makes him lock into place.

Jaw tight under the protection, mouth guard in place as his teeth dig holes into it, hands tightly grasping his stick. Back hunched, blood boiling.

You cheer for the reds.

Jump with Yorozu when they score.

Groan when Toji misses a goal like it pains you and like you actually care about sports.

Satoru's eyes fly to you when he scores to find you blankly looking back at him. Unimpressed face in place.

He slams bodies onto the the boards, he yells. Throws the puck, his stick, glares at you with something you can't understand behind his eyes while he drinks water on the halftime.

He breaks a new record. 12 goals in a game at 21 fueled by pure rage.

By you.

The game ends.

Yorozu runs off when she sees Uraume at the rink's entry ready to pick her up.

You sit on the bleachers a little longer, watching Satoru's frustrated figure retreat. Throw his helmet on the padded floor behind the gate to the ice.

Then you get up.

Start to move out of your row, heading for the door when a loud banging sound startles you.

From behind your back, you hear Satoru's voice booming through the empty arena.

"Y/N! GET DOWN HERE!"

His fist harshly colliding with the plastic board he smashes rivals against.

Your heart frantically jumpstarts into irregular beats.

Your knees go weak.

But you slowly step down the bleachers, circle the rink and find him coming to you—meeting you halfway.

He's still in his skates.

Well over his normal height now, towering over you so much your neck hurts when you crane your head to look up at him.

The rink is to your right, the sturdy wall of plastic that separates the public from the chaos in the games being the only thing between you and the actual ice.

Satoru's looming figure is tense.

He's still in his uniform.

Blue and white suiting him criminally well while your red contrasts. It clashes.

Helmet gone, you see his half-lidded azure eyes piercing into yours. Gaze heavy. Tension about to snap at any second.

You can't breathe with how thick it is.

You blink one and you're pressed up against the board, his hands pressed against the plastic and you trapped under him.

"What are you doing Y/N?" He asks, voice hoarse.

Throat painfully dry. You swallow.

His body presses against yours, heat transferring like glue onto you. Hard muscles of his chest carving themselves against your chest.

Face close.

Too close.

Mere inches between the two of you.

Mint fills your mostrils again.

The familiar scent of him making your head go haywire.

Sweat, musk, something clean.

Something so him.

Your thoughts shatter at his voice reaching your ears again. "Cat got your tongue?"

Yes.

You hadn't through your plan this through.

What now?

"I told you to cheer for me, baby."

Butterflies explode in your stomach.

His face drops even more, lips ghosting up the side of your neck.

And when he reaches your temple.

He whispers lowly. "I'll show you what happens when you're screaming another man's name."

⁠❥

"Oh!—Satoru!"

How did you end up like this?

With your back against the cold metal of the hockey team's changing room. Sukuna's shirt thrown on the floor, your hair messy and drool spilling from the corners of your mouth—and Satoru's cock stretching you out like he wants his shape to be the only one your needy pussy remembers.

You're liquid in his hands as he bounces you on his cock against the wall. Raw. The sound of skin meeting skin and your mixed mewls and whimpers the only thing echoing through the empty zone.

Satoru's eyes are shining, blue orbs full of lust and hearts as he watches himself disappear in your wetness. A filthy pace ruining you in his arms.

There's a frothy white ring at the base of his cock where your juices mix while he rams and rams onto you. His mouth explores the exposed surface on your neck.

Marking with bites and hickeys you won't be able to cover. On your collarbone, neck, nipples, waist. He has a strong grip that's surely going to bruise on your hip as he dives in relentlessly.

Your brain is all mush so all you can say is his name.

"Satoru—'

He's feral. "Yeah, keep moaning my name like that. Told you what would happen."

"—It's-too much!" There are tears running down your eyes from the overstimulation, you've lost track of how many times you've cummed.

"You can take it."

And you really can't because Satoru is huge. He's bruising your cervix as he hits it with every plunge in your pussy but you love it.

In one sharp movement you're back on the bench, back pressed against old wood. Satoru inside of you—pushing your legs up and changing the position before delivering that first toe-curling thrust.

A choked sound escapes your throat as he hits your g-spot. Spots of white clouding your vision.

Your nails finding his shoulders, scratching sensitive skin. Flushed cheeks and hot bodies meshing he unravels you in the locker room with the risk of being caught.

Which makes it all the more thrilling.

His large hand leaves your hip and trails up your side till it lands on your face. Delicately catching a stray tear from falling.

"Aw, look at you, babe." He muses.

You clench around him, pulling him back in stronger.

He continues. "You were right when you said you weren't like the others."

Another involuntary cry rips free from your chest.

"You like that?"

He sees the fucked out face you're wearing. Your eyes rhythmically rolling back to your skull when he finds that hidden point. Your back arching when he blows past your cervix.

Placing slow, open mouthed kisses that are way too gentle with how his thick cock is tearing you apart, he hums against your warm skin.

"Answer me, honey."

You snap. "Mhm! Mh—It's so good, 'toru."

His dick twitches inside of you at the nickname. "Yeah? I can feel you're close."

A high pitched whimper escapes you when his thumb presses your clit. Drawing slow and increasingly fast circles that melt your whole existence as the coil in your stomach thins out.

"I'm so close, imsoclose, Satoru. Please—"

You're not even sure what you're begging for, but you want him to continue.

Satoru groans and whispers a trail of curses you can't understand before he shoves his tongue down your throat and starts absorbing your moans.

He picks up the pace one more time, balls meeting the soft globes of your ass hardly until you break and come undone on him.

Burying himself to the hilt and losing to your warmth, Satoru spills his cum deep inside of you as you shake under him.

Now slowly kissing each other to bring you down from the high, Satoru gently pulls out and parts from your lips.

Your breathing is heavy as you look up at him in between your legs.

You feel him spilling out of you.

Before his cum can leave any more of you, his finger picks it up and shoves it back inside. You hiss at the sting.

He chuckles deeply, finger still inside of you.

"You're criminal, Y/N."

You drive him insane with that sweet and shy girl facade to everyone.

And act like a honey covered devil with him.

But he’s crazy for it.

He’s barely known you for two weeks but you’re so magnetic he physically can’t forget you.

A beat passes.

"Round two in my car?"

So he carries your trembling figure on his back with his gear in his other hand to his car while you wear his jersey and Sukuna's shirt stays wet on the floor.

Brings you over his lap on the driver's seat, has you straddling his thick thighs. Bunches his your shirt over your tits.

Bounces you on his cock

You ride him.

Sweat glazing his body, a hard-on that won't go down no matter how much you ride him with your weak legs and his palms helping you bounce.

White locks cling to his forehead, brushing over those drowsy, lust clouded cerulean eyes of his.

Satoru's mind starts to crash as you mewl and grind on him. The sound of your slick sticking to his lap as your ass meets his balls over and over sending his consciousness out the window.

Wet plop, plop, plop is all that resonates through the car.

His head is tipped back, jaw slack, mouth open as you kiss down his throat. Nails scratching his shoulders. He'll probably feel the sting of the sensitive skin tomorrow underneath his uniform.

It will all be worth it though.

A low rumble climbs out of his chest as you lean back away from his chest and continue lifting and dropping your hips hard on him.

Satoru is groaning with no control.

"Oh god—Y/N-"

The cocky, hot hockey captain moaning under you, cute.

Your irregular breathing mixed with salty tears rings in his ear. The cars foggy windows do little to hide your figure over his, and somehow the risk of being caught drives him even more insane.

The familiar knot in your stomach churns. Looking down you're met with how your greedy pussy swallows Satoru's 8 inches with ease now that his own previous release and your juices serve as a lubricant and since your walls know his shape.

Quicky sensing you grow tighter around his length, Satoru's hands wrap around your waist—pulling you flush against him and tucking your head in his neck as he starts thrusting up.

You shatter, moaning loudly in his shoulder. He delivers the last few home runs and covers your insides in white again. New and old release mixing inside of you.

And you don't ever dare to wear red again.

Or you do..

Either way, Satoru doesn't expect you to shrug him off Monday.

With his hickeys peeking out from underneath your shirt.

You may have gotten your back blown out by the school's hockey center.

But he isn't anywhere close to getting you wrapped around his finger.

Which is why Suguru and Choso watch with their jaws dropped as their friend trails behind you like a desperate virgin in attempt to get you to tag along with their celebration dinner.

Because Gojo won twice that day.

Now he can't get enough.

What’s he going to do now so you end up dating him?

He tries to get you to attend something he throws or he’s involved in again—Tuesday he innocently appears in front of your apartment with a cup of coffee in hand and the words “My sister is getting married this week and I need a date.”

He doesn’t have a sister.

“Gojo, you have no sister.”

And that stops him dead in his tracks.

“I meant my aunt.”

You grabbed the drink from his hand, surprisingly the same order you’d gotten the last time he popped up behind you at a coffee shop.

Smiled sweetly at him.

Thanked him, and said: “I’m a busy woman, Satoru. Maybe some other time.”

Did he need to know you had no other plans but to read and eat banana bread on your weekends? Absolutely not.

That was your personal you time.

But when Wednesday rolled around and you got your grade back for your last math exam—a depressing 31/100 that could have you ending up retaking first year statistics, you turned to straight A math student Satoru.

Having nowhere to go and desperately needing help if you didn’t want to fail the subject, he was unfortunately the only one around you with grades that were too good for how little he studied.

You remember the chill going down your spine at the thought of trading your cozy Saturday for a tutoring session with…him.

When you shyly asked him for help though, he lit up like a Christmas tree on December 25th. All big smiles and frantic nods with questions about when? Why? What should he bring?

“Um, yourself? I have my material at home, Satoru.”

He happily agreed with no complaints.

So here you are now.

Cross-legged on the floor.

Three huge math textbooks he brought when you’d told him there was no need but he insisted that this was the guide to math 101.

Whom the numbers inside meshed into Chinese at some point for you.

And made a headache slowly start to brew instead of understanding whatever he was explaining.

“Are you listening?”

That snaps you out of your head. Guilty, you slowly look back up at his face, gaze abandoning the rubber residue on the paper you’d been drilling holes into with your eyes and finding a playful pout on his face.

“Sorry, I can’t focus.” You confess, fingers picking at the ends of your skirt.

You’re not even sure why you wore a skirt.

But you refuse to admit it was for him even for a fleeting second.

He softly smiles.

“I can help you with that.”

Curiosity crawls under your skin.

You peek up at him. “You can?”

He grins.

Seriously, how do you get in these situations?

Satoru had hooked an arm behind your back, another under your legs and in one swift motion lifted both you and him off the floor then plopped you on your bed.

Pushed you back gently till your head met your pillow. Crawled over you painfully slow. Traced the bare skin of your right thigh till it met the beginning of your skirt.

Watched your face till you shyly nodded.

Allowed his hands to go further up and meet the thin lace of your panties which made his boner harden more.

Press a thumb to your clit, sending a jolt of electricity up your spine. Shocking every nerve in your system into consciousness.

And dipped his head in between your legs where he is now.

One big hand pressing against your twitching hips as his tongue relentlessly moves in unclear directions—from side to side, up and down.

Flattening it, drinking every single drop of sweet nectar you offer him. Earning a low grumble from him whenever he feels you flutter and clench around nothing.

He inserts a finger and grows jealous of it disappearing when it should be him inside of you.

But he continues watching your chest raise and fall, your breathing hitch at his every moment. The leaking of his saliva mixed with your slick onto your white bedsheets.

“You’re doing so well for me, baby.”

You feel the tears start to sting your waterline as your orgasm approaches. Your view of the ceiling and Satoru’s pale hair between your legs growing blurry.

The outside start to fade and your body tingles when it crashes over you.

“Come on, pretty. Come on my tongue.”

And you do.

Satoru feels your essence spill onto his tongue and he wastes no time in enjoying it. Tongue nipping at your sensitive bud and making you jolt under every reverent lick.

You’re panting once he rises from beneath you.

Not thinking straight yet and on cloud 9 when he grabs your hips and turns you over. Now having you on top of his chest.

“Ride my face.”

You learn that Gojo Satoru is an insatiable monster in bed that rewires your brain every time he gets in your pants.

Satoru finds out that the shy girl in his class has him wrapped around her pretty fingers after he gives her his all during sex and still can’t get her to even so much as look at him after the night bleeds into morning.

But he finds out that he’s more than willing to be your little toy until you’re ready to let him stay in the morning.

And make love to you instead.

He just has to wait some time till you warm up to him.

Maybe an eternity.

He thanks Choso for telling him that the shyest ones are the freakiest.

You may not even consider him a friend now.

But Gojo knows he’s going to be the one waiting at the end of the altar in a few years.

You just wait.

megumi just came back from a long mission and he's sleeepppyy but he just wants you ˊᴖˋ

w.c. 600 c.w. suggestive themes !

"mmmf— gumi..!" you whine as megumi climbs on top of you, feeling his weight melt onto your body as his tongue slips past your lips once again.

his eyes are droopy with sleep, evident that he's exhausted. but megumi, hopelessly whipped for his girlfriend megumi, brings a hand to your bra, dipping his hand beneath the padding to squeeze your tit.

another hand cups your jaw, but his grasp is softer than usual. nearly every bone in his body is tired, but somehow his mouth keeps deepening the kiss, and his hips respond to yours every time you grind on him desperately.

"my pretty girl.." he mutters.

the bulge presses through his sweatpants, and you already know his leaky tip is completely soaking his boxers, but the two of you are simply too tired to do anything about it other than get off on clothed sex like the horny teenagers you once were.

megumi's never been too rough with you, now more than ever with the way he lazily kisses you back, the way his hands move across your body with less fervor.

he's got you leaning against the bedframe, your shoulders propped up on a pillow as strands of his jet black hair tangle in your fingers.

"love you so much" he whispers, and his eyes twinkle with adoration as he pauses for a moment to meet your gaze.

"you're so cute." you laugh back. the way you laugh makes him melt every time - the way your lashes flutter, the way your teeth show in your smile, the fact that he makes you laugh.

you start growing wetter the second he buries his face into your neck, hips rutting into yours.

a groan escapes his mouth at the way he can feel you all over him, him all over you, it's hard to distinguish the two at this point. he's exhausted. you can definitely feel that.

"baby," you pull away from his lips for a moment. "lay down for me."

megumi slumps down next to you, his hands laying loosely next to his head and his eyelids sagging.

thankfully, you're not as tired as him, and you lift a leg over his knees, straddling his lap. his hands instinctively move to your hips to guide you, but instead you bring his hand toward you. his fingers securely wrap around yours.

the grinding starts slow. you roll your hips enticingly, and somehow he feels even harder than before. it takes a second to find your pace, but soon enough you're practically bouncing on top of him, desperate to please your swollen clit with every time you snap back down onto him.

"fffuckk, baby," you press your chest to his as his cock twitches underneath you. "might cum just like this."

"yeah?" he breathes, an arm covering his eyes. he moans as you plunge your hips deep onto him.

you don't exchange a lot of words after that, only his heavy breaths and your soft moans fill the room as you each get your release. megumi strokes your hair as your wave of pleasure passes, and you feel his lips kissing your forehead.

the sheets rustle as you cuddle up next to your boyfriend, still softly rubbing your backside against his pelvis.

he's used to it by now, and his hand finds your waist under your his hoodie, rubbing circles into your skin with his thumb.

"..gumi?"

"hm?" he answers with his eyes closed.

"i love you."

you turn your head to face him when he doesn't reply, but he's already fast asleep, chest rising and falling as he breathes slowly.

a/n: it's my bday in 6 minutes!! a very self indulgent short lil drabble.. honestly i was js writing to write for this one so idk if it's very good and you can imagine more in your head yay how fun!!

should i create a taglist ?? please comment and tell me.. also reminder that my requests are currently open!! send me an ask.. if you want... ALSO my baby daddy toji fic randomly got a ton of likes which was super unexpected but tysm anyway!!

damn long ahh a/n sybau angel amirite 😂

(18+) HEADCANONS :: – frat!gojo x innocent!reader, college au, smut, dom!gojo, handjobs, praise, corruption kink, manipulative behavior, slight dub-con

frat president!satoru, who’s used to every type of girl at his party except you, all big eyes, wandering around his house like you didn’t know what to do. he’s asked suguru to offer you everything under the sun in the last thirty or so minutes — a drink, a smoke, a joint. you just politely decline, shaking your head so prettily.

frat president!satoru, who swears he’s just got an ego when he decides he’ll be the one to show you all of that and more. he could do it if suguru couldn’t, if no one else could.

he starts off all nice, walking you to all your classes, offering his sweaters in the lectures you had together (which he only started attending for you), buying you lunch and listening to your cute little rants about your worst profs.

frat president!satoru learns that you like being held when he’s the first one to find you after an exam you swear you’d failed. he doesn’t get it ‘til he’d realized your eyes are all glassy, so shiny as you peered up at him with wobbling lips, trying not to cry in front of him.

frat president!satoru loves the way you’d just melted into his arms after that. he calls you easy to his friends for it, but something inside him never wants to let go whenever you’re willing to press yourself into his chest, wherever you’re willing to do it.

frat president!satoru, who asks you what you’re wearing all the time and sends even prettier things to wear to your dorm when he thinks you can do better.

frat president!satoru, who’s spiraling at night, jerking off to your contact photo, wrapping his large hand around his dick and pretending like it’s that sweet mouth of yours engulfing his length. he imagines how shy you’d be, lips parted wide, smearing pre-cum and replacing your candy lip balm. he wants you tasting like him, those soft cheeks drenched in his cum, eyes screwed shut until he’s all you can think about.

frat president!satoru likes making you need him, doting on you and driving you around like a princess, spoiling you until you frown whenever his hand isn’t on your hip, or whenever he dodges your calls for fraternity meetings. he likes the idea that you might become obsessed with him (like he is with you). 

frat president!satoru, who’s grinning cruelly the minute you finally tell him, “you know, you do so much for me, I feel like I’m not doing enough for you.” in that nervous voice of yours one day, while you’re tucked into his side at your apartment.

frat president!satoru, who’s never missed a meeting or a call until that day, when he’s finally got you whimpering shyly in his lap while he gently mouths at your neck, tasting that perfume he’s been searching online for for weeks, whispering about how he’s so grateful you wanna help him out, how sweet you are for making it up to him too even when you didn't have to.

but he’s been waiting for weeks, you’re all soft and impressionable on him, and he’s not letting a moment of your kindness go to waste.

frat president!satoru guides you with a husky voice when he teaches you to spit in your own palm and wrap your hand around his cock, nearly shivering at the contact  — “make me feel good, pretty girl, it’s the least you can do.”

frat president!satoru, who just chuckles at the fact that you’re all nervous, looking up at him as if asking what to do next, just for him to wrap his palm around yours, engulfing it entirely. he groans lowly as he moves your palm up and down on his already-hard length, bottom lip catching between his teeth at how warm your hand feels against his dick.

“shit, just keep it like that, baby, up and down…”

frat president!satoru, who kisses you slow when you gasp at how he bucks up into your hand, keeping his own wrapped around it while desperately attempting not to just use you, jerk himself off with your tiny little fingers, maneuver you down and slam himself deep into your tight cunt. “hah — fuck, gorgeous, y— you’re good at this, huh? so good for me, so fucking cute…”

“i’ve never done this before,” you admit into frat president!satoru’s mouth, hushed and breathy like it’s a secret. he wants to fucking laugh, but he’s cut short by a low hiss as you thumb at his slit without him having to teach you, making him lose his mind piece by piece. shit, you’re just perfect, aren’t you? 

“am — am I doing okay, satoru?” 

frat president!satoru has nearly had enough of patience when you say that. shit, he bites down into your lip without even realizing, hand tightening around yours when you whimper. and it’s barely enough to notice at first, but he pumps your hand around him faster, growling into your mouth at the way your fingertips flex around his length, making a slick! sound that echoes across the room.

“you’re — shit, just like that — doing perfect, baby. so perfect.” frat president!satoru groans into your throat, even though he’s using your hand like a fuck toy now, smearing his own pre-cum mixed with your saliva all over his huge dick, bucking his hips up into your plush skin like a glorified fleshlight.

the only one he’s dreamed of in the past few weeks, at least.

frat president!satoru gets off on how eager you are to match his pace, his other hand cupping your cheeks to purse your pretty mouth open for him as he spits down your throat and relishes in your confused little whine. he doesn’t even realize how tightly he’s gripping your hand now, forcing you to jerk his cock faster.

“that’s it,” he pants into your lips, “just let me have you, okay? hah— so good, shit, you’ve been wanting this too, haven’t you?”

“satoru—” your voice is a wet dream, how it feathers off around the edges and breaks like you’re not sure.

frat president!satoru groans at the sound of your confusion. “been, fuck, thinking about this, baby. want you creaming on my cock next, yeah? or maybe it’s — haah! — too big for your first time. gotta — shit — prep you first.”

frat president!satoru spills into your hand with one last rough stroke of both your hands around his length, gasping low with his tongue down your throat as he finally lets your hand go. he watches the way your palm shakes, eyes dark, lifting your cum-covered fingertips to your mouth without thinking. and he thinks you won’t do it, until—

your sweet fucking tongue darts out to lick experimentally at your own fingers, and satoru thinks he’s gone to heaven.

frat president!satoru, who can’t help himself when he’s grabbing you by the waist now, laying you flat on your back and coming up to slot his knee between your thighs, committing the way your face scrunches up in both confusion and pleasure to memory. he thinks you’re the cutest fucking thing in the world, and he wants you broken in every way possible until you can’t fuck any other guy without imagining his dick. 

“thank you, baby,” he grins against your neck. “can i make you feel good now?”

frat president!satoru, who decided he’d never let you fuck anyone else anyways the moment you'd nodded.

@ ttakdoll, 2026

if not done already could u do megumi x fem reader and megumi fingers reader until she cries? and megumi lowk gets off on her crying.. (if ur ok w writing that) anyway i hope u like my request!

hope u have a good night / day ^_^

🐞 anon

"come on, just one more? you can do it." megumi begs you, his fingers are still buried in your soaked cunt. you have orgasmed twice already, completely overstimulated, but he's giving you puppy eyes.

"i'll be gentle. one more, yeah?"

you sigh and nod. he kisses your tummy softly and starts to work his fingers inside you again. its too sensitive, the way his fingers caress your sweet spot and the way he breathes on your clit as he watches his fingers from up close.

"so wet, pretty." he whispers against the top of your mound. his tongue meets your clit in one kitten lick before pulling away again. you twitch against him, whining at the feeling.

everything seems to be so overstimulating. you don't know how or when, but tears start to fall from your eyes. the pressure from his fingers feels so filling, so deliciously good, and you can't help but shed some tears.

megumi glances at you out of habit, but when he sees the tears, he nearly freezes. the only part of him that stays moving are his fingers. he stares at the tears, at the pleasure on your face. he was already hard to begin with, but seeing you in tears causes another wave of desire over him.

he watches your face, every twitch and every tear. his finger rub faster on your sweet spot, coaxing you into a sweet thick orgasm.

"that's it, pretty. cum for me. cry for me." he mumbles, watching you arch your back and let out a cry filled whine. he almost cums in his pants with you from the way your tears fall on the sheets under you.

he slides his fingers out of you and just stares. your chest is heaving, exhuastion visible, but you look beautiful.

"one more, i promise. i just need to see you cry again." he whispers on your cheek. the saltiness of your tears triggers something in his brain. he quickly sheds his pants, needing to be buried inside you while you cry for him again.

♡ ⸝⸝ blackcat!reader and goldenretriever!gojo relationship dynamic ! ❤︎₊ ⊹

when you and satoru started dating, nobody believed it. satoru was a ray of sunshine—always cheerful, cracking jokes with everyone, never without a smile on his face.

you, on the other hand, were more reserved. you liked your independence. you were sharper, quieter, always observing the room before stepping into it. most of his students joked that satoru must have forced you to date him, because the two of you were just so different.

but the truth was quieter than that.

what they didn’t see was the way he’d slow down just for you. how he’d notice when the noise got too loud and distract the room so you could slip away. how he’d press a candy bar into your palm without saying a word, because he already knew you’d skipped lunch.

they didn’t see the mornings when he came barreling into your apartment with coffee in hand, sunglasses perched on his head like he’d just conquered the world. you would sigh, already sitting at the table with your tea, pretending to be annoyed when he leaned across and stole a sip—when in reality, you didn’t mind at all.

or the way he dragged you into every ridiculous errand. grocery shopping, ice cream runs, even picking out new sunglasses—he’d chatter nonstop, filling every silence you didn’t feel like breaking. and though you rolled your eyes, you always went with him.

sometimes, in the quiet of the evening, you’d be reading with a blanket around your shoulders, and satoru would flop down beside you, arms sprawled everywhere like an oversized golden retriever. he’d nudge his head against your shoulder until you relented, setting your book aside so he could curl closer. “see?” he’d say, grinning up at you. “you do like me.”

you never answered out loud, but your hand would linger in his hair a little too long for denial. and maybe they didn’t notice the way your eyes softened when he laughed too hard at his own jokes, or how you let him drape himself all over you even though you claimed to hate it.

because while he was all sunshine and warmth, you were the quiet place he came to rest.

everyone else saw mismatched opposites—sunshine and shadow, noise and silence. but the two of you knew better. he brought you out of your solitude, and you gave him somewhere steady to land.

and maybe that was the whole secret: you weren’t opposites at all: you were just the balance each other needed.

ಇ.word count: 3.8k ಇ.art by: @!narutoss.ramen on X

ಇ.pairing: Nerd!Satoru x Nerd!Reader

ಇ.content & warnings: ꒰non canon au ⋮⋮ crack! ⋮⋮ reader & satoru are heavily inexperienced ⋮⋮ dry humping ⋮⋮ bathroom stall handjob ⋮⋮ prem-ejaculation ⋮⋮ fingering ⋮⋮ multi-orgasms ⋮⋮ kissing꒱

Satoru Gojo is fucking gorgeous, which is so deeply unfair that you’re still kind of processing it as he pays for your movie ticket with trembling fingers. His white hair is slightly tousled, soft against his ears, and his glasses are tilted just a bit on the bridge of his nose. He keeps pushing them up like he’s stalling, trying not to meet your eyes too long because every time he does, he gets flustered. His face goes pink and he laughs too loud. You bite your lip every time he does that.

You’re no better. Your hands are clammy inside the sleeves of your hoodie, because you thought this was going to be a safe little date. Nerdy. Harmless. You met at a fucking Doraemon expo for god’s sake, where he gave you a Doraemon-shaped candy and then looked like he wanted to die from shyness.

And now you’re sitting in a too-dark movie theatre with his knee brushing yours.

SATORU GOJO :: fratjo and his curated instagram profile!

(18+) :: content – frat!gojo x fem!reader, college au, smut, switch!gojo, p in v, riding, pussydrunk gojo

frat!gojo is one of those guys with a heavily curated instagram profile.

it’s not that it’s overly nonchalant, or so quiet that it looks painfully intentional, but so effortlessly busy while maintaining an air of carelessness that he makes it look like a modern day art form.

it’s all witty captions (“siri, set an alarm for those sleeping on me”, who even thinks of that?), vaguely motion-blurred pictures of neon lights and solo cups, polo clubs and martinis, late nights at the frat house, and highlights of well-shot travel pictures and selfies. 

it just seems like he always knows exactly what kind of picture to take in what setting, exactly what makes him look good in front of the many people (many.) that are hungry to see what’s going on in satoru’s life. it doesn’t even seem like he’s actively trying to show off how cool and interesting and luxurious his life is – he just fucking does it.

the cherry on top? an absolutely lethal follower-to-following ratio. satoru doesn’t even follow back half of the thousands of followers he’s got.

in short: he’s got it down to a science. you’d think you knew exactly who he was simply based on the curation of his profile.

at least, that’s what you think when your sorority friends first show you his account.

you – well, you’re the type of person who’s seen it all before. 

you think you’ve got it down to a science too, because you’ve always been able to accurately predict exactly who someone is based on what their social media looks like. and the minute your friends show you satoru gojo’s instagram, you don’t know whether you should laugh, scoff, or clutch your pearls tightly.

“no. he’s definitely an asshole,” you clock immediately, shaking your head. “if I tell you guys I’m bored, at least give me someone nice.” “he’s nice!”

“I mean, someone who isn’t the definition of ‘lights on, nobody’s home’, maybe?”

your friends look at each other like they’d expected the less-than-positive reaction, but they keep pushing anyways. “just try talking to him. if you’re bored, gojo’s the person to go to. Look at his profile: he’s rich as fuck. fine as fuck. good in pictures. he passes his classes–”

you groan. “yes, because that makes him the epitome of academic excellence–”

“–just fucking text him already!”

against your better judgment, you click on that well-curated profile, and you text.

and he texts back – quickly, you might add, for someone that chronically looks like he ghosts people simply because he doesn’t have time for all of them. 

it's not just that. the thing is, you and satoru keep texting – for weeks on end.

it’s not even you holding the conversations together, but him. satoru does the most; he sends you pictures of him with his brothers, him in his car, him walking to classes you didn’t think he attended.

you wanted to stop replying. you want to doubt him, call him a slut, find him annoying. but he’s really not.

you: gojo it’s getting late yk

gojo: but i wanna keep talking to you :((

you almost scoff.

you: how many girls did u JUST text that to be honest

it’s mostly a joke, partially your own morbid curiosity kicking into action. it’s late on a friday night, you’re trying to find any reason not to be intentionally texting someone who probably doesn’t give half of a shit about you, and amidst the darkness of your own bedroom, you’re fucking entertaining this. satoru’s probably off convincing some other girl she’s the only one, calling her up, coercing her into letting him come over at this hour–

gojo: [1 attachment] it’s just you beautiful

he sends a screenshot of his recent fucking DMs.

and he’s not lying – it’s just you (pinned?), a couple of his frat brothers’ dump accounts, absolutely nothing incriminating that could justify your premature judgments about satoru.

suddenly, you’re in it now; your lip is caught between your teeth, trying to process this revelation, and he’s still fucking typing. like he doesn’t care if it looks desperate. maybe he just thinks he’s incapable of looking desperate?

gojo: soo will you keep talking to me now i miss you its been 30 secs

you: ur so stupid fine

okay. maybe satoru isn’t anything like his profile at all.

one day, he finally asks you to come over. it’s not even in a weird, frat fuck, booty call way either; you get home from a pretty late exam, and you somehow get into texting satoru about how you’re pissed, you think you flunked, and you hadn’t eaten anything in hours.

before you can even think about setting foot in your building elevator, he’s sending you a picture of a shit ton of sushi (he remembered you saying you liked it?), luring you into his place like a mouse trap, and threatening to make you feel better with free food and bad movies.

it’s irritating how saying no didn’t even cross your mind for a second.

even if there was a 70% chance satoru only wanted to fuck, you kind of didn’t even mind that.

and you learn that satoru is 100%, most definitely not an asshole.

 he doesn’t even actually look that much like what you’d see on his profile – other than being absolutely delicious-looking, because of course that doesn’t change. 

he’s tall, but half of all the bicep and muscle he loves to show off on his story highlights is hidden behind a faded digimon hoodie. satoru’s got a pair of black, thick-framed glasses perched on top of his head, pushing his snow-white bangs back, leaving a few strands to rest over his forehead.

he even smiles sweet, out of the corners of his lips, all “let’s stay in my room” and “you got any movies you like? I have all of them!”, drawing you in without even knowing it.

 your heart is in your throat when he leads you to his bedroom, where he’s laid sushi and snacks out as if eating was the first thing on your mind.

you have two thoughts: first, that he’s nothing like the fuckboy he seems he is on his instagram, and second, coming over to his house, just him and you, may be the best idea you’ve ever had in your life.

so you think it takes way too long, because satoru’s way too nice.

in fact, it takes you shuffling close into his side on the bed and tugging at his hoodie string with your fingertip midway through detective pikachu for him to even notice you wanted something.

“hm?” satoru hums, his arm absentmindedly wrapping over your shoulders in a motion that makes your skin warm. “yeah? is it too cold, or–”

oh my god. you bite the inside of your cheek. “maybe you wanna keep me warm?”

“oh, for sure, i’ll go get another blanket–”

“gojo.”

and satoru dares move to get up. “i’ll be quick, don’t worry–”

“satoru.” and you’re tugging him back down, giving him half-lidded eyes, gazing beneath your eyelashes like he’s one more word away from being eaten alive. 

and finally, finally, you see his eyebrows raise like something’s clicking into place, and there’s a faint grin starting to tug at the corners of his lips. maybe he is kind of an asshole – but you barely get to berate him before he’s clicking his tongue and tugging you into his lap.

⭑.ᐟ

“fuck, beautiful–”

you don’t even realize just how little satoru matches his instagram profile until he’s the one beneath you, hands roaming your waist, trailing up to pinch desperately at your hardened nipples, all while you press your hands to his bare chest and ride his huge cock.

it’s hard to remember how you ended up here, his back against his own mattress, glasses hitting his own headboard, with your legs hooked over each side of his hips, watching the frat boy’s face contort in absolute pleasure.

all you know is that every sound that leaves his lips, every flutter of his lashes over those blue fucking eyes – heat pools between your legs. it doesn’t help that satoru’s so big, each drop back down on his dick making you see stars behind your eyelids.

“s–shit,” you gasp out wantonly, a loud squelch resounding between you as your pussy clenched around him. he’s just so deep, stretching out your needy cunt so perfectly with each roll of your hips. “so fuck– fucking big, satoru–”

he hisses. “baby, you’re – oh my god – you’re killing me here. c’mon, let me take care of you–”

it’s cute how easy it is to get him, of all people, to shut the fuck up.

all it takes is a shaky scoff from your parted lips, as you lift your hips all the way up, sliding your wet entrance over his tip for a second, just to relish in the way the white-haired man below you practically whines, aching for the warmth of your pussy around him. and then you drop down fully, letting out a broken little cry as his cock splits you open again, the stretch achingly delicious.

“haah–” satoru sounds so pathetic like this, fingertips clutching at the skin of your waist tight like he needed to bounce you on his dick until you were sobbing in his hold. “come on, please, just– just let me fuck you properly, pretty.”

“mmh,” you breathe out airily as you grind down onto his cock, eyes rolling back. “but ‘s so good.”

“could make it even b–better,” satoru groans. “shit. shit, do that again,”

you almost grin, albeit cockdrunk and absolutely dripping on him, at the little whimper that escapes his lips when your fingernails claw into his chest, timed perfectly with a greedy little roll of your hips, shifting him deeper into the warmth of your cunt.

you lean forward, tits pressing against his skin as you press your lips to his. and satoru takes this opportunity as his only avenue of control — his tongue breaches your mouth, a dazed little whine escaping your lips in response, shoving the muscle as far down your mouth as it would go. as if taunting you.

but he’s fucking gone, at the end of the day, and all it takes to have his mouth dropping open is for you to slam that ass back down like your life depended on it.

“don’t be a — ah! — an asshole, satoru,” you murmur into his skin, devastating, manicured fingertips prying his hand off your waist. “be good.”

“f—fuck,” he sputters out amidst the wet plap! plap! plap! of your ass against his pelvis. “fuck, ‘re the asshole here, pretty—”

your teeth sink into his plush bottom lip, and the low, broken sound that escapes his mouth is almost enough to have you creaming around his dick right then and there. “you’re so — ngh — ungrateful. ‘m literally bouncing on your dick—”

“haah—” both of your words are messy, making it out through strings of saliva against each other’s lips, resounding across the space of satoru’s bedroom. “baby…”

“haven’t even said please.” you mumble, and the white-haired man keens at how easily you can pretend to be so innocent, voice soft and wrecked and sweet like you don’t even realize what you’re doing. “just say please for me, satoru.”

you swear you see something hot flash in those blue eyes.

he doesn’t say anything. 

“satoru,” and there’s no way he can say no to that voice. not like that. not when your voice is so candied, so sweet, so intentional in trying to get him to beg to fuck you. you press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, and he hisses like you’ve just bitten bruises into his shoulder. “play nice for me, okay?”

“shit, baby…”

“pleaaase. say it.”

he tries rolling his hips into you, chasing the sweet warmth of the pussy you’re denying to let him fuck. all for not much, considering you slam his hips back down and leave him whimpering beneath your touch. so adorable. so desperate, it was almost comical, considering how satoru looked, how he presented himself.

so much for the fuckboy with an allegedly long list of girls in his DMs.

because—

“please!” satoru whines out, arms flexing by your thighs, a large hand meeting your waist, fingertips gripping loosely. “fuck, please, please let me fuck you properly, you’re so tight, so good–”

he’s babbling. about your pussy. satoru’s punctuating each little plea with a pathetic gasp ripped from his throat.

the man behind the curated ig that featured countless hookups, countless parties, and he’s utterly pussydrunk as you ride him to insanity.

“yeah?” you whisper against his mouth.

“haah— yeah, fuck, yes. been thinking about it — shit! — ever since you texted me.” satoru gasps. 

you find it in yourself amidst the haziness to glance down at his face, the way his lips are slicked with your drool, the way his eyes are half-lidded behind white eyelashes, so utterly destroyed. the absolute picture of intoxication, all by the hand of your cunt lewdly squelching around his length.

he’s not what he seems at all.

because the white-haired man would have never looked like he begged this pretty beneath someone like you.

and you’re just as far gone, because you kiss him hard after the admission, legs shaking as you slam your hips up and down like you wanted his tip bruising hearts into your cervix. it doesn’t take much — you’re biting at those plush lips, letting his tongue saunter down your throat, and he’s whining, stuttering into your lips as his dick twitches inside of you, pumping you full of his cum.

“baby, h-hah — shit,” satoru breathes out. “so— it’s so—”

it’s filthy, between the gasps from his throat, warm liquid seeping out of your hole and coating your pussy lips, dripping down your asscheeks, staining his sheets. you’re not exactly any better, whimpering at the sticky feeling of his cum deep inside of you, your own wetness soaking his entire cock in a pretty sheen. 

satoru’s spent for a moment, and so are you — heavy breaths are exchanged between kiss-bitten lips, his hands gripping your waist tight like you’re his only lifeline. like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t bruise your skin.

the afterglow lasts about five seconds longer. because you realize just how fucked you are when you feel the frat boy grin against the corners of your lips, long fingers moving down, down to grasp your plush thighs.

“satoru,” you mumble, somewhere between a warning and a request.

“shh,” his voice is wrecked. “said please for you, baby. promised i’d get to fuck you properly.”

“satoru—”

he presses down on the bulge where his cock is buried deep inside you, earning a soft little moan from your mouth.

and that voice makes you shudder. “you be good for me now.”

⭑.ᐟ

frat!gojo's profile is a heavily curated one. 

he’s got it down to a science.

so no one realizes anything is out of place — even when he posts a carefully-shot picture of you, passed out on his bare chest, hair splayed out to obscure your face. it’s provocative enough for everyone to know exactly what he did, but barely enough for anyone to question its place in the life he showed off online.

barely enough for anyone except you, who sees that story, dressed in an oversized t-shirt, while satoru’s waking you up with gentle pecks over your face.

yeah. he’s not what anyone thinks.

@ ttakdoll, 2026

‧ ₊❝ overstimulating gojo by removing his blindfold

gojo always keeps his blindfold wrapped tightly around his eyes to prevent sensory overload from his surroundings because of the six eyes. i can see this also applying to the bedroom, claiming he would “immediately bust a nut from how good your pussy feels”.

even though you’d always wanted to feel the intimacy of looking into those luminous blue eyes, you respected his wishes. and he always made up for it by fucking you real good.

but today, you were pissed.

his hands are bound behind the chair as you ride him deep and slow. he’s tugging at his restraints, head thrown back, hips bucking up to fuck deeper into you.

“please—need to feel you, feel your tits. you’re so tight around me, haah—squeezing me to death,” he gasps between moans, dick pulsing wildly.

the grin on your face is borderline wicked.

“should’ve thought twice before forgetting our anniversary dinner. had me looking like a goddamn idiot waiting for you. getting stood up by her date,” you spit, slamming back down onto his painfully hard cock.

“m’sorry, fuck, i didn’t mean to—shiit—i promise i’ll buy you whatever you want tomorrow. i’ll do whatever you want, just let me touch you,” he begs, tears beginning to stain the cloth over his eyes.

you drag a teasing finger down his jaw, raising goosebumps from your feather-light touch. you murmur, “hmm, there is one thing i want.”

“yes—yes, anything, please—”

wordlessly, you trace the edge of his blindfold, hooking a finger underneath. there’s a sharp intake of breath from the man underneath you. but he doesn’t object. you pull the blindfold down, letting it hang from his neck. the bulge of his adam’s apple bobs underneath the strip of fabric.

his eyes squint, struggling to adapt to the sudden brightness. before it hits him like a freight train.

the smell of your perfume. the metallic tang of blood from biting his lips too hard. the dips and curves of your naked waist. the shuddered breath as you struggle to take all of him. and worst of all, how tight and warm you feel around him. he can feel every ridge of your walls that are clenching so hard he’s sure it’s leaving an imprint on his dick.

you test this new-found sensitivity, grinding harder, slick making a mess of your thighs.

all he can see, feel, smell, hear, and taste is you. his mind is spinning, giddy from the sensation of you. he whimpers, thighs shaking from how dangerously close he is to an orgasm.

“g’na cum,” he moans, arms flexing, muscles tensed, from behind his back. he’s trying so hard not to cum into you right now.

“beg for it.” oh you were being so mean.

“please, i love you so much, ngh—let me fill you up, pleasepleaseplease,” his words are slurring together, his brain already short-circuiting.

“go ahead,” you purr into his ear, nibbling on the edge of his helix.

that’s all it takes before he’s spilling into you, with a groan that travels to your core. his fists are clenched so tightly his knuckles are turning white, eyelashes fluttering as his eyes roll back.

you reach your high soon after, the mixture of your releases dripping onto the chair. your body falls forward in exhaustion, pressing your sweaty chests together.

the weight of your body collapsed onto him was enough to make him harden again. his eyes glint with mischief as he starts lazily fucking up into you. you scramble for purchase on his shoulders, realising he’s turned the tables on you.