Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Irrational hatred: people believe in a pseudoscience and defend it passionately but NEVER are willing to do any science about it. My beloved friend! If you can prove that people born during a specific and predictable time have a specific and predictable trait, we will PUBLISH. If a specific rock structure results in a quantifiable effect while adjacent to the human body, we will write a BANGER paper together! If plants can form memories then let’s write a follow-up paper and get funding for a lab!! Make a survey! Generate a testable hypothesis! Don’t be so incurious about the world!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
૮ ․ ․ ྀིა MDNI — needy & pathetic smut ♡ gojo has been completely neglected for an entire week while you’ve been buried in midterms and papers. at naoya’s fancy penthouse party he finally snaps, drags you away from some random guy, and turns into the whiniest, most emotional, obsessed crybaby boyfriend imaginable. ♡
he’ll cry, beg, and ruin himself until he gets her back to himself ♡
Missed You Too Much
Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!Reader
Tags: needy crybaby gojo, jealous possessive gojo, pathetic whiny gojo, heavy breast worship, dry humping, intense face sitting, he cums in his pants, rough pent-up sex, begging, praise + degradation, emotional sex, vocal moaning/whimpering/crying, and clingy aftercare
The penthouse was alive with low music, laughter, and the soft clink of glasses. City lights spilled across the floor-to-ceiling windows like scattered diamonds, and Naoya’s party was in full, glittering swing. You were supposed to be having a great night — finally out after a brutal week of midterms, a cold drink in your hand, laughing at something the guy from your finance class had just said.
But Gojo Satoru had been watching you the entire time.
He hadn’t approached right away. He’d hovered near the bar for almost an hour, tall frame slouched against the counter, those bright blue eyes never leaving you for more than a few seconds. A whole week. Seven long days of one-word texts, missed calls, “sorry baby, I have another paper due,” and “can’t tonight, Toru, I’m swamped.” He’d even sent flowers to your apartment with a handwritten note that said “good luck on midterms” like some pathetic, well-behaved lapdog because he was trying so hard to be understanding.
And this was how you repaid him? Smiling at some random campus loser while he stood in the corner like a forgotten accessory?
No. Absolutely fucking not.
He pushed off the bar and cut straight through the crowd, long legs eating up the distance until he was right beside you. His presence was impossible to ignore — tall, broad-shouldered, radiating that familiar mix of entitlement and desperation.
“We’re leaving,” Gojo said, voice flat but edged with something dangerously close to a whine.
The guy blinked. “Uh… we were just talking about—”
“And now you’re not.” Gojo didn’t even fully look at him. He just tilted his head, delivering a cold, dismissive glare that made the guy shrink back. “Go get another drink. Or jump off the balcony. I don’t really care which.”
His fingers found the small of your back, warm and possessive, sliding under the hem of your top to press against bare skin. He leaned in closer to the guy with an arctic smile. “She’s taken. Has been for months. So kill whatever little fantasy you were building in that head of yours.”
The guy muttered something awkward and retreated. Gojo immediately laced your fingers together and started pulling you through the maze of hallways without another word. You tried to protest — “Toru, slow down, what the hell—” — but he just tugged harder, navigating the penthouse like he’d memorized every corridor.
He finally found an unoccupied guest bedroom, pushed the door open, and pulled you inside. The second the door clicked shut behind you, the noise of the party faded to a distant hum. He spun you around and pressed you back against the wall with the full heat of his body, forehead dropping to your shoulder like he was physically exhausted from missing you.
“You’ve barely looked at me all week,” he mumbled into your neck, voice already cracking with that familiar petulant tone. His arms wrapped around you tightly, like he was scared you’d vanish again. “No ‘hi baby,’ no nothing. I had to drag you away from some random loser just to get this close to you.”
You opened your mouth, but he pulled back just enough to look at you. His bottom lip was trembling. Those pretty blue eyes were glassy, a single tear already threatening to spill over his lashes.
“I missed you,” he whispered harshly, the words cracking. “Do you even care? I’ve been so good. I sent flowers. I-i didn’t complain that much—” (he definitely complained, multiple times a day)
His hands slid from your shoulders down your front, thumbs hooking under the hem of your top. They were shaking slightly. “I deserve this,” he said, more insistent, eyes wide and pleading. “You owe me. I’ve been dying without you. Can I… can I at least have this? Just let me suck them. Please please pleaaaase. I feel like m'actually going to die if I don’t.”
You couldn’t help the soft, fond laugh that slipped out. “Toru… you’re such a dramatic crybaby tonight.”
“I know i'm being a brat,” he whined, pushing your shirt up higher and higher, not even waiting for permission. He shoved your bra up roughly, freeing your breasts, and immediately buried his face between them with a broken, relieved whimper. “But you like it when m'like this. Tell me you missed me too. Please.”
His mouth latched onto one nipple with desperate, sloppy kisses, then closed around it and suckled hard. A soft, needy sound escaped his throat — almost a sob. His hips rolled forward instinctively, grinding his painfully hard cock against your thigh through his pants in slow, desperate circles.
“I love your tits,” he mumbled wetly against your skin, nuzzling and licking like a man starved. “Love your pussy too. So much. It’s embarrassing how much I need it."
Another tear slipped down his cheek. He didn’t even try to hide it. He just sucked harder, louder, wet sucking sounds filling the dim room as he ground against your thigh like he couldn’t stop himself. His hands cupped and squeezed your breasts, thumbs brushing over the nipples he wasn’t currently latched onto.
You threaded your fingers through his snowy hair, tugging gently. The way he whimpered and melted into you made heat pool low in your belly. “Aw, you’re crying again,” you cooed softly, voice teasing but affectionate. “Poor baby.”
“Don’t make fun of me,” he whimpered, lifting glassy eyes to look at you. His lashes were wet, cheeks flushed pink, lips shiny with spit. “I have, like, nine inches in my pants. I can make you cry too. But right now I just… I need you. Please.”
He kissed your nipple again, soft and reverent, then looked up with that lethal combination of entitlement and desperation. “Can I—can I at least put the tip in? Just the tip, I swear. You don’t even have to move. C'mon, please baby. I’ll literally die if m'not inside you. You owe me this for ignoring me all week.”
You laughed softly and scratched his scalp. “You’re so pathetic tonight, Toru. All because I had midterms?”
“Yes,” he whined against your breast, the vibration making you shiver. “m'yours. Please let me be good for you. I’ll be so, so good. Let me.. let me taste you first. I need to taste you or m'gonna lose my mind.”
You finally took pity on him. You pushed him back onto the bed, watching him sprawl out with wide, hopeful eyes. You slid your panties down your thighs, leaving yourself bare beneath your dress. You climbed over him slowly, straddling his chest first, then inching higher until you were hovering over his face.
Gojo’s eyes widened in pure, pathetic bliss. “Oh fuck— yes—”
The second you lowered yourself he yanked you down and buried his tongue inside you like a man possessed. He ate you out with sloppy, desperate hunger — long, slow licks from your entrance to your clit, then sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth with wet, obscene sounds. He whimpered and moaned the entire time, the vibrations shooting straight through you.
You moaned softly at first, then louder as you started grinding down harder against his tongue. The way he cried and whimpered against your pussy made your thighs tremble. “That’s it… good boy. You’re making me feel so good,” you praised, fingers tightening in his hair.
Gojo sobbed happily at the praise, tongue fucking into you deeper, nose grinding against your clit. But you were pent up too, and you wanted more. You started riding his face harder, rolling your hips with purpose, pulling his hair roughly to keep him exactly where you wanted him.
“Fuck— Toru, your tongue feels so good,” you gasped, grinding down roughly. “You’re such a pathetic little mess, aren’t you? Crying and whimpering just from tasting me?”
He moaned loudly against you, the sound muffled and desperate. You rode him even harder, smothering him with your pussy, his nose pressed tight against your clit while you pulled his hair hard enough to make his scalp sting. He could barely breathe, but every choked gasp and sob told you he loved it.
“That’s my good boy,” you praised, voice breathy. “But look at you, already making such a mess in your pants.”
Gojo’s hips jerked violently beneath you. A broken, high-pitched whine tore from his throat as his whole body shuddered. He came hard in his pants, thick, warm spurts soaking through the fabric while he kept licking you frantically, tears streaming down his temples, barely able to breathe under the relentless pressure of your hips.
You didn’t stop riding him. You kept grinding hard, using his face until your own orgasm crashed over you. Your thighs clamped around his head as you came with a loud moan, soaking his tongue and chin while he whimpered and sobbed beneath you, still cumming in his ruined pants.
Only when you were trembling and oversensitive did you finally lift off his face. Gojo was a complete wreck — hair messy from your pulling, face shiny with your slick and his own tears, lips swollen and parted on shaky breaths. His pants were visibly soaked at the front.
He looked up at you with glassy, fucked-out eyes and a broken little sob. “I… I came in my pants… just from eating you… m'sorry— i'm so pathetic—”
You leaned down and kissed him messily, tasting yourself on his tongue. “My pathetic little crybaby,” you murmured against his lips, voice dripping with both praise and teasing degradation. “Cumming untouched just because I rode your face. You really are mine, aren’t you?”
He nodded frantically, fresh tears spilling as he pulled you down on top of him. “Yours— all yours. I-I need to be inside you so bad. I’ve been so pent up… I missed you so much…”
You didn’t make him wait long. You shoved his pants down just enough to free his still-hard, cum-slick cock and sank down onto him in one smooth motion. Gojo cried out loudly, hips bucking up hard as he filled you completely.
The sex that followed was rough and desperate — all the frustration of the past week pouring out of him. He fucked up into you with deep, punishing thrusts, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise while he buried his face back between your breasts, sucking and biting and whimpering the entire time.
“Fuck— you feel so good,” he sobbed against your skin, voice cracking. “Missed this pussy so much— missed you— please don’t ignore me again, I’ll die—”
You rode him hard, pulling his hair and calling him your good boy, your pathetic little crybaby, your desperate slut — mixing praise and degradation until he was shaking and crying beneath you. When he finally came again he buried himself as deep as he could go, sobbing your name while he filled you with thick, hot ropes of cum, hips jerking through every pulse.
Even after he finished he didn’t pull out. He stayed buried deep inside you, face tucked between your breasts, arms wrapped around you like a lifeline, sniffling quietly while you stroked his hair and whispered how much you loved your needy, crybaby boyfriend.
“Missed you so much,” he whispered, voice hoarse and small against your skin. “Please don’t ever do that to me again.”
You kissed the top of his head and held him tighter, letting him nuzzle against your neck while he came down.
“My dramatic little crybaby,” you teased gently.
He huffed a wet laugh against your chest but didn’t deny it.
