幸運

tall boyfriend perks are really good.

he reaches everything. top shelves, high cabinets, that one lightbulb you swore you’d get to later— done in seconds, no stool needed.

he doubles as your personal ladder and your built-in heater. you’re basically wrapped in a walking blanket 24/7.

but the cons?

he takes up space without meaning to, and the fact he already loves manspreading whenever doesn’t help at all.

it’s as if everything has gotten smaller. that’s the only logical explanation. because there’s no way one man should be able to take up this much space.

“baaabe,” you whine, shoving at his shoulder. “move.”

a sleepy hum is your only response. one long arm tightens around your waist, dragging you back against him like you haven’t just spent the last five minutes trying to wiggle free.

“you’re warm,” he mumbles into your hair, voice thick with sleep. “stay.”

“i’m gonna fall off the bed. you’re literally on my side.”

this is your life— losing every nightly battle for mattress territory, practically kicked out of your bed simply because he can’t keep his limbs to himself.

a frustrated groan slips out before you give up, finally managing to slip out from his hold. he shifts, reaching instinctively for you, but you’re already gone, padding out of the bedroom and collapsing onto the couch.

it lasts exactly ten minutes.

you wake up once more to something heavy pressing into your back.

“…you’ve got to be kidding me.”

behind you, half-folded onto a couch that is very much not built for a grown man his size, satoru has somehow wedged himself in, arms wrapped tightly around you.

“you left,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your shoulder without opening his eyes.

“because you took over the entire bed.”

“mm.. sorry.”

“and now you’re taking up the entire couch as well.”

he hums again, clearly unconcerned, and pulls you even closer— if that’s somehow possible.

you try to twist around to glare at him, but his grip only tightens, his legs tangling with yours until escape is officially impossible.

“mooove.”

“don’t wanna,” he shoots back, a lazy grin tugging at his lips even in the dark.

you sigh, defeated, resting back against him.

sukuna loved your glasses.

it was practically the first thing he noticed about you when you two first met. and you quickly caught on how much he loved them.

he would always beg you to keep them on while you two had sex, sometimes even begging you to let him cum on them.

hell, every time you crawled onto his lap and started kissing along his jaw all he could imagine was how he was going to paint your lenses white with his cum.

you used to always say no, saying that it was too hard to clean afterwards and how you could always smell his cum on your face throughout the day even if he offered to clean them for you.

you only said yes on special occasions. just like today.

you had been tutoring sukuna for his midterm, determined to get him at least above a 70%.

though he wasn’t as determined as you. for some reason he was content with his usual 60%.

so what did you do? motivate him of course!

“sukuna. are you even paying attention?” you whisper yelled at him after being yelled at yourself by the librarian earlier.

sukuna had his head shoved in his hands, groaning in response before mumbling what sounded like a mocking yes underneath his breath.

you let out a sigh, turning your body to full face him.

“c’mon, you have to study. these are your midterms we’re talking about, you can’t afford to fail these, ‘kuna.”

he lifted his head up, still not facing you while his hands fidgeted with your pencil. “i know, but i just don’t get it. there’s no way i’m gonna learn all of this in time.”

you felt your chest tighten.

before you sat the infamous frat boy, ryomen sukuna, confessing to his girlfriend with the saddest puppy look painted on his ink covered face that he didn’t understand physics.

you did the only thing you could do at that moment because what good was having a nerd girlfriend if she couldn’t help out her boyfriend in his academic stump?

you shifted in your seat, scooting closer to sukuna and using one of your hands to tug on his sleeve while the other covered the side of ear to whisper in it.

“i’ll let you cum on my glasses if you pass.”

sukuna whipped his head around so fast he almost hit you. his sad look now replaced with wide eyes and ears as red as a tomato.

before you could say anything else he sprung up out of his chair, startling both you and the other people in the library.

you looked up at him, eyebrows practically shot up to your hairline. “what are you doing?”

“i’m going to check out a physics book.”

the man didn’t even own a physics book.

so it definitely came to your surprise when sukuna texted you a picture of his midterm with a big fat 91% circled in red ink at the top of his paper a week after.

so now here you were, keeping up your end of the deal.

you were both fully bare, sukuna sprawled across the bed, legs spread open for you to kneel in between.

he had just came from his class, skipping the next just so he could finally get the reward he waited a week for.

“fuck, just like that, baby.” sukuna groaned. one hand placed on the back of your head, palm so big he practically covered your entire head, while the other was gripping at the sheets, fighting for his life to not thrust up into your mouth. “good fucking girl. you want me to paint your face that fucking bad?”

you hummed around his cock, the tip of it hitting the back of your throat with every bop of your head. the sounds coming out of you sounded horrifically pronagraphic.

sukuna could only laugh, “dirty girl. what would people say if they knew their precious little nerd was over here with her boyfriend’s cock down her throat, practically begging for me to ruin those pretty little glasses?” he reached out to push your glasses back up your face, empathizing his words.

you moaned at his rude comment, keeping your hands on his thighs, droll dripping down your chin and his cock onto the bed. you knew sukuna liked it messy. and sukuna knew you liked it a little humiliating.

pulling off his cock with a loud pop! you started to lick from the base up, gathering up all your saliva only to spit it back into his aching tip only to watch it all dribbled back down.

not only did his cock twitch at that, sukuna fucking whimpered at the action.

you traced the bulging vain on the underside of his cock with your tongue, glasses fogging up while they kept on bumping into him.

“holy shit, fuck, i can feel the cold rims of your fucking glasses all over my dick, baby.” sukuna groaned, crimson eyes locked on yours as you placed a small kiss on his tip, hoping to try and cool it down before enveloping it back in your mouth.

“fucking slut. you know what you do to me— hahh shit.” sukuna groaned, mouth agape as he stared down at you. “i-i can’t take it anymore. ‘m sorry, sweetheart.”

your eyebrows furred in confusion before his other hand shot out, both of them now gripping your head to bob you up and down his leaking cock.

digging your nails into his thighs, you couldn’t help but tear up at the sudden roughness of the thrusts of his hips.

“hah— you’re, fuck, y-you— fuck!”

the man couldn’t even speak anymore.

“yeah, yeah. there’s my good girl, fuck, my sweet little slut wants me to cum all over those cute little glasses of hers, isn’t that right, baby?”

you could only moan around his cock, the vibrations shooting up his spine, cheeks hollowing out around his cock to try and get him to come faster.

“holy shit,” sukuna mumbled, hand tugging on your hair to pull you up.

you twisted your head away, trying to catch your breath. immediately gulping up air before coughing at all the saliva stuck in the back of your throat.

sukuna’s free hand shot out, gripping your chin hard enough to move you back to face his flushed cock.

his hand left your chin only to come down to stroke his cock at a rapid pace. the hand on your head gripped your hair a little harder, forcing you lower and closer to his cock.

“ahh— shit, just stay right there f’me, pretty.”

sukuna came with a loud groan, cum shooting out to cover all over your glasses, some even landing right above them and dripping down onto the bridge of your nose.

hell, he aimed high to hit your glasses that some even ended up getting into your hair, coating the top of your head along with his fingers that were still tightly holding you down.

you could only whine when sukuna rubbed his tip on your lenses, cum getting on both sides before slapping his still hard dick all over your now fogged up and cum covered glasses.

sukuna was breathing heavily, post orgasm now hitting him hard. “s-so fucking pretty f’me.”

then to no one’s surprise, he dipped his tip into some of the cum that happened to land on your cheek, then moving back to wipe it all over on your glasses.

sukuna groaned at the sight before him, tapping his cock on your lips and tilting your head back farther.

“go ahead. clean me up, sweets.”

you huffed before sticking your tongue out to kitten lick along his tip. sukuna laughed at how obedient you were.

grin wide on his face, his moved his hand from your head, tongue coming out to lick his cum off before using his index finger to write on one of your lenses.

a large letter S written in his cum was now sitting so nicely on your fogged up lenses.

“fuck,” was all he said before pulling you off his cock and tugging you up so he could capture your mouth in a rough, messy kiss.

he could never get over the feeling of your cum covered glasses pressing into his face as he licked into your mouth, swallowing your moans.

more olderbf! toji here

in hindsight, you probably shouldn’t have asked a question you didn’t want the answer to.

"soo… how many women have you even slept with?" you ask, slipping it into conversation since you were on the topic. you’ve been with toji for over two years now, you know about his past, you know he’s no saint — especially when it comes to women.

but you find yourself wondering far too often how many women your boyfriend has satisfied, how many women he’s had moaning his name whilst he fucks them stupid. the past is the past, you know that.

you just didn’t want to wonder anymore.

“you ain’t gonna like the answer,” toji responds, one arm around you as you sit curled up together on the couch in front of the TV.

you feel your stomach drop, heart beating faster in your chest. the thought of him with another woman makes you sick to your stomach — never mind possibly hundreds of them.

you begin to understand the saying "curiosity killed the cat.”

"…can you just give me a number?" you ask gingerly, unknowingly holding your breath as you await his answer. “didn’t know it mattered to you," he responds gruffly, eyes glued to the TV like this was some casual conversation.

you remove his hand from your shoulder, shuffling away a few inches with a faint pout on your face. you knew this was slightly unfair to him. he can’t change his past, but why wouldn’t he just tell you the number?

you finally catch his attention, hearing him huff as he turns to look at you. "cmon, doll. y’just askin’ shit you don’t wanna know." he pulls you closer again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

you move away again, still frustrated, digging yourself into a deeper hole. "but why can’t you just tell me?"

your older boyfriend sighs again, not so much in irritation, mainly because he knew any answer he gave you would upset you in some way.

“i don’t have a number to give you. not like i counted," toji says, pausing the TV to give you his full attention. he pats his lap invitingly, "cmere."

you hesitantly climb into his lap. two large hands find your hips, securing you there like you might run away. “don’t work y’self up over it. you’re the one who matters to me. not them."

you nod, leaning in and burying your face in toji’s neck, melting into his lap. he rubs your back reassuringly, kissing your temple.

you stay like that for a moment, safe in his arms, reminding yourself that you are the woman he loves — his past was practically meaningless. "m’sorry for getting jealous," you say quietly, breaking the silence.

"you’re hot when you’re jealous," he purrs, threading his fingers through your soft hair. "s’okay. gonna remind my pretty girl how much i love her," he adds, cock hardening beneath you.

a needy whine escapes you, two hands fisting the collar of his shirt. "please…"

he’ll fuck you until your intrusive thoughts were long gone — until you had no coherent thoughts left at all.

a/n; thank u sm for 3.1k MWAHHH!

being unsure of your own sexuality is one thing. having your crush be the one to find out is a whole different disaster.

it happens on a completely normal saturday, the kind where you do nothing but lie on your dorm bed with a stack of magazines you definitely pay too much for at the convenience store, flipping through quizzes about which sorcerer technique matches your personality and whether your ideal partner is “spontaneous” or “steady.”

except you land, somehow, on a quiz titled “are you sure you’re straight?” and instead of laughing it off and turning the page like a normal person, you actually grab a pen and start answering it.

which is exactly the position shoko finds you in when she lets herself into your room without knocking, because she never knocks, because four years of friendship has apparently erased her understanding of personal space entirely.

“whatcha doing,” she says, already flopping down on the end of your bed before you can even sit up properly, and you very nearly launch the magazine across the room in a full panic, except that would make it obvious something is wrong, so instead you just sort of freeze with it pressed flat against your chest.

“nothing,” you say, in the exact tone of someone who is absolutely doing something.

shoko raises an eyebrow, reaches over and plucks the magazine right out of your hands before you can stop her, and you make a strangled noise of protest that does nothing to help your case.

she looks at the page. then she looks at you. then she looks back at the page, and you watch, in real time, the exact moment she clocks the title. “are you sure you’re straight,” she reads aloud. “question one: who do you notice first: men or women?”

“you’re still so sensitive… but you can give me one more, right?”

satoru grins against your pussy, two thick fingers buried knuckle deep while his tongue moves slow and lazy over your clit. your thighs start to shake around his head but he just pushes them wider, mouth messy with your cum from the last round.

“c’mon baby… just one more. this pussy’s still so wet for me…”

he sucks your clit hard, lips wrapped tight, and curls those fingers right into that spot that makes your back arch off the bed. you’re still twitching from before but he doesn’t stop. he pulls off your clit with a wet pop and spits right on it, watching it drip down to mix with the mess leaking out around his fingers.

“i know it’s a lot but you can handle it, pretty girl.”

he slides a third finger in, stretching you open, scissoring while his thumb presses down just above your clit. your hips jerk but he pins you down with one strong arm across your stomach, mouth back on you instantly. he licks broad stripes up, then sucks your clit between his lips again, humming so the vibration shoots straight through you.

you whine his name and he chuckles into your pussy. “yeah? it’s a lot, huh? you’re taking it so good for me. my good girl. c’mon, cum on my tongue again.” he speeds up, fingers thrusting deep and steady, curling every time he pulls back.

your thighs clamp around his head but he doesn’t care. he eats you like he’s starving, messy and loud, spit and cum everywhere. the pressure builds fast and he feels it, growls against your clit and shoves his fingers even deeper.

“there you go… that’s my girl. you’re getting so close already, huh?”

satoru moans into you when you come, licking up every drop, fingers still moving slow through your orgasm to drag it out. he keeps his mouth on you as you tremble and squirm beneath him, overstimulated and gasping.

“fuck, i love how you taste right after you cum… think you can do it again for me?” he pulls his fingers out, shiny and slick, and slaps your pussy lightly before diving back in with his tongue, ready to pull another one out of you.

Haven't posted in months, but here's the mechanic Toji I spent forever on.

꩜ – 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

the staff meeting at jujutsu high was supposed to be the most boring hour of your week, the kind where yaga talks about statistics and everyone quietly checks how many minutes are left before they can go get lunch.

but you and satoru had gotten into a fight that morning, one of those stupid arguments that starts over something small and somehow spirals into “well maybe you just don’t think about anyone but yourself,” and neither of you had really resolved it before you both had to show up to work like functioning adults.

so when he strolled into the conference room fifteen minutes late, blindfold pushed up onto his head, grinning like the whole world owed him a good morning, you didn’t even glance up from your notebook.

“morning, morning, did everyone miss me?” he said, dropping into the seat next to yours like nothing at all had happened between the two of you a few hours earlier.

“gojo,” you said, without looking up, your voice perfectly even, like you were greeting a coworker you barely knew.

the entire room seemed to freeze for a second. not satoru. not babe, not the nickname you swore you’d never use in public but absolutely used constantly at home. just gojo, delivered with all the warmth of a weather report.

nanami’s eyebrows climbed so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. shoko made a small choking sound and had to set her coffee cup down before she embarrassed herself further. even yaga, who had seen a thousand strange things happen in this school, paused his sentence about budget allocations to look between the two of you like he’d wandered into the middle of a drama he hadn’t signed up for.

satoru blinked, the smile faltering just slightly at the corners. “huh?”

18+. 𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 #𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓 !

cw: coworker!toji, workplace sěx, fingëring, dry hūmping, p w plot, pälming, ôrǎl. art by o6frog on twt ! 𓏲 .˚˖ ᵎᵎ

“TOJI FUSHIGURO IS DEFINITELY A B MINUS,”

lunch break at goldman sachs means jam sticky on your fingers & shoko’s bleary eyes. beside you she’s plum cheeks & lashes fluttering, lips smudged with brownie-choc & something else she swears isn’t laced with weed.

“that’s not very generous. i thought you liked the guy.”

and you do. toji fushiguro is a man divorced with broad chest & tired eyes. but even thick arms & bulging pectorals aren’t enough to earn a print grade of D++.

“not to the point that i’d lie to myself,” you click your tongue. “see how the peak of his crotch rests right below the middle? that’s a B minus.”

two cubicles & a half-opened laptop away, toji fushiguro is there.

sleeves folded over thick forearms, glasses heavy on sunken nose. and his eyes? low & lazy & gazing nowhere near your direction. and you’d worn this skirt just for him !

you shake the thought away. beside you, shoko smushes a palm against her cheek.

“i think you’re wrong.”

“hm?”

“have you seen how he walks?” shoko leans in, eyes glimmering. “slow. heavy. like he’s weighed down by the sheer mass of it,” she licks her canines,

“that man is packing.”

“but the print chart—“

“fuck the print chart,” shoko interrupts. “i say we investigate.”

INVESTIGATION #1 : COMPANY GYM