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livinghostly · 2 months

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i will hold on to you for as long as you let me — megumi fushiguro x mom!reader, satoru gojo x reader

a/n: sorryyy the fushiguro-gojo family dynamic was rotting my brain and i needed this out of my system. LOTS of projection of my fear of growing up in this one soz. this was fully meant to be a drabble and it just kept going idk wc: 3.1k angst/fluff. mom!reader has a lot of bittersweet thoughts about megumi growing up and satoru is there to comfort <3 lots of parentheses and lots of repetition

you put on a brave face all day. all week, even. despite the burn in your chest that engulfed your lungs and squeezed unrelentingly. despite the tears that burned the corners of your eyes delicately balancing on the your waterline, one blink away from breaking the surface density and opening the floodgates to pour down your cheeks. despite the non-stop ache of your stomach, churning what you ate every day but still holding the same emptiness as anxiety consumed you.

megumi didn’t pack much, he never held on to many things to begin with. (you always prayed for that to change, for his comfort your home. you prayed he would see it as his own, as well). he neatly folded his clothes into his suitcases and stacked his hangers on top. he purchased a new sheet set for his bed in the dormitory because the one he was used to was much bigger, much softer.

he packed most of his books, carefully picking out the ones that tugged at the nostalgic parts of him, frayed along the edges after many years of re-reading, as well the ones that still had vibrant covers and stiff spines he hoped to finish. you noticed the leather journal he kept tied together– the ink-blotted pages bursting at the seams –sitting on the shelf before he tucked it into his box of personal belongings. it was his third one since living with you, all filled to every last page and used beyond ruin. the rest were hidden between his headboard and the wall. you pretended not to know, after stumbling upon them while changing his sheets.

closing the door to your home felt eerily empty. it looked the same as every day. the couch was cleaned and the floors swept. dishes rinsed and promptly put away. but with your lingering gaze your mind fixated on the dining table set for four, two adult pairs of shoes at the door, one pink backpack slumped on the hook of the closet door with an empty space below. your chest twisted at the lack of clutter, though it’d been like that for some time, with tsumiki and megumi growing older and cleaning up after themselves properly like you taught them. like you wanted. the pride you initially felt with those memories of parenting were becoming eclipsed with resentment and despair.

the ride to school was quick and familiar, megumi knew well what he was getting into after visiting there to train. satoru liked to call them little getaways from megumi’s civilian life, claiming he wasted too much time around non-sorcerers when he could be on missions with his ever-loving benefactor instead.

satoru, who was whining while he laid himself across the three seats in the back of your car. you’d banished him there for such a special occasion, and he threatened to transport himself to the school alone. an empty threat, at best. he didn’t want to miss this.

megumi had sparred with the older students and found himself thrown around the field many times already. he knew his way to the infirmary by heart, he knew where gojo tucked away his most powerful curse-imbued weapons (that were supposed to be under the surveillance of higher ups), and knew what letter-number combination granted him the ginger chips nobody else seemed to like.

you were glad he was comfortable. you were glad he would fall into routine easily after the repeated trips to jujutsu high and developing a rapport with his upperclassmen. you’d waited for the day that he’d truly be part of the jujutsu world and welcomed into a better suited environment for people like him. and you knew he would be great, he already possessed an incredible technique and wielded it like he’d been fine-tuning it since birth. far ahead from most kids his age, you were proud.

still, your gut was sinking, sinking, sinking into the floor with each passing second.

megumi picked his room in one of the far-away corners of the boys dormitory, leaving inumaki and panda heartbroken (panda said he would find a way to organize sleepover. megumi said he would drop out before that happened. inumaki cried– no, wailed at the rejection). yuuta fell into step with you, slipping one of the boxes out of your hands and insisting on helping instead. it was sweet, if it didn’t feel like he was ripping precious time away from you.

but you smiled, and granted his wish. megumi wasn’t complaining, he liked yuuta more than the others. it was a good chance for them to talk more. all of this, a chance, a new chapter, the rest of his life. the thoughts weighed on your shoulders with a disgusting strain traveling to your fingertips.

you were painfully aware you were in your own head, doing this all to yourself. he wasn’t going away, you would still be seeing him, more than you used to when he went to his other schools. he would always be here.

satoru found you in your classroom, while you were organizing the stationary with an unnaturally stiff composure. your arms were tense, he could see the muscles constantly flexing with each of your movements.

your jaw was clenching and unclenching again. you made a point not to look outside, where the second-years were training brashly after successfully moving their things back into their dorms. you made a point not to meet satoru’s dangerous stare as he shut the door to your classroom, as if it granted any privacy with the seven large windows running along the wall that showcased the hallway.

“what are you doing all by yourself, beautiful?” his tone was soft and inviting, begging you to open up and let yourself fall against the cushion of his words.

“um,” you exhaled, voice shaky. you scrunched your face to break apart the tension that had hardened your expression. “i figured i would get a few things ready for tomorrow.”

it took satoru’s long legs two-and-a-half strides to meet you at your desk, where you gently shut the drawer. there were a handful of dated photographs in there, signed with his name and the chicken scratch of two children.

“it’s all ready, baby. we did that last week.”

(correction: you did it. he tagged along for the shopping trip).

“there’s just… a few things...” you mumbled, not finding the strength to finish your own sentence.

satoru gently placed his hand on your shoulder, emitting inhuman warmth that spread across your skin. you leaned into him as he dragged his hand down your arm and intertwined your fingers with the care of handling fine china. his presence brought you solace, effortlessly bringing the walls down that you desperately wanted to wait until you got home to break.

he kissed the back of your hand and rubbed the skin. “you know you’re going to see him every day, right?”

it was embarrassing how well satoru knew you, knew your thought process like it was an extension of his own. he knew your doubts and insecurities, your fears and desires. he could predict the words before they came from your mouth, more in tune with the way you spoke than his mother tongue.

“mhm.”

“you know we’re going to be the ones chaperoning his missions, right?”

you closed your eyes and looked away. “i know.”

“do you remember when he said he’d like to go home some weekends, and have dinner?”

“he said that to be nice.”

“when has he ever been nice?”

you opened your eyes to glare at him, though he was right. megumi was not nice. he was polite. he was too self-aware for his own good, too perceptive of others and their emotions. in all the time that you’d known him, raised him, he made himself smaller for the convenience of others. he walked on his tiptoes for a year and a half so no one else would wake up because of him. he made his own breakfast and bit back his tears when he burned himself. he didn’t ask for things or food and didn’t offer his input unless asked directly. for some time, he was a ghost in his own home.

it seemed as soon as the bits of his shell started to break off, he was being swept away from you by the jujutsu world, leaving you with looming fears that consumed your mind and disrupted your sleep for weeks.

satoru smiled, though it was weighed down with your sadness. “hey, he’s not going anywhere, you know that. just because you’re not driving him home everyday doesn’t mean he’s gone.”

it’s funny, it’s nearly the same speech he gave you when tsumiki started middle school. and when megumi followed those same steps.

tsumiki didn’t make it this far, though.

the thought makes your lip wobble again, and you bite it back pathetically.

“i know. i know that. it’s just that…” your voice cracked, and you shoved your head in your hands. your palms squeezed your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the already-flowing tears. “he’s not my little boy anymore.”

satoru’s soothing hands pull you into a tight hug, and you don’t have it in you yet to move your hands from your face. his embrace makes you sob harder, louder as all your emotions from the last week begin to pour out at once. his chest rumbled with your cries, and he tucked you further under his arms as if to shield you from what was making you hurt so much. it was all you.

“baby…” he chuckled, without a hint mirth or mockery. he squeezed you with compassion and adoration. “you know that’s not true. he’s still pretty short, he’s got another growth spurt coming.”

a small laugh slipped through, but was quickly drowned out by your cries.

“he’ll be okay. he’s still here.”

he was so, so warm. he gently began to rock back and forth with you, the heels of your shoes gently clicking on the tile floor. a small hiccup erupted from you as you found the strength to wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest. the familiar thrum of his heartbeat welcomed you.

“i know, i’m sorry. i know he’s not leaving, or anything… i just… i thought i was ready.” you blubbered into his button-up. surely, there’d be two wet spots where your eyes were when you pulled away.

he swayed side to side with you, staring at the blackboard ahead of him. he nestled his chin on the top of your head, wondering if you could hear the cracks tearing through his heart. “it’s okay if you’re not ready. but you’re treating this like it's goodbye.”

“but what if we don’t get a goodbye?”

“okay, you really are overthinking this,” he pulled away from your embrace, your fingers still digging into the material of his shirt. he brushed away the hair covering your eyes, stuck to your skin by the wetness of your cheeks. streaks ran through your foundation and the corners of your eyes were smudged. “there you are. so pretty.”

it was silly how he believed he could make things better like that. it was silly that he was a little bit right.

“don’t think for a second i’ll let megumi be sent on a mission he can’t handle. he’s going to be fine.”

satoru’s love ran deep. for you, for megumi, for all his students. he fought curses everyday for you, rotted himself with his technique and stitched himself back up in a moment’s notice to fight for you. to come home to you. all of humanity be damned, those closest to him were the ones he fought for, and he would do everything in his power to preserve their lives.

he already towed the line with the higher-ups and their conservative rules and regulations, but he would tear them down if you asked. for megumi, he’d fight tooth and nail to see that he wasn’t being sent off on a mission ill-prepared. under his watch, things would be different for his students.

you nodded meekly, wiping away your tears with one hand. “i hate when you’re right, toru. it’s really annoying.”

he smoothed down your hair and grinned. “i know, just let me have this one, though.”

his sweet murmurs filled your ears, along with the gentle shuffling of your clothes as you made yourself presentable again. you balled up your sleeves and patted the corners of your eyes gently, and he straightened out the hem of your shirt. it was wrinkled, a reminder of how harshly you clung to him.

you smiled at the water stains on his shirt now, and he claimed it was in need of dry cleaning anyway.

neither of you noticed the eyes of megumi and yuuta, both stuck in place at the very corner of the windows leading to the hallway. they had training staffs with them, megumi’s grip becoming tighter as he watched you wipe your eyes and knock your head into satoru’s chest lazily. your shoulders low, clearly drained from the amount you cried.

yuuta was frozen, eyes flickering from you to megumi repeatedly. he found his courage in placing a hand on his shoulder, a feather-light grip. “hey, let’s go through the east wing. i’m pretty sure it’s faster that way.”

it wasn’t. but megumi nodded anyway, begrudgingly tearing his gaze from you and turning around with yuuta.

you stared down the red light of the intersection with a blank face, blank mind. letting it all out of your system had successfully flushed out your emotions, taking the rest of your energy along with it. the car was painfully quiet, but no part of you wanted to listen to anything.

satoru was whisked away by yaga, being delivered another mission he swore would take less than a day. ‘less than twelve hours’, he promised to be back for megumi’s first day. he would make it.

it was dark, and you milked all the time you could on school grounds. speaking with yaga and shoko, running through the still-developing information of missions to be sent on. cleaning the classrooms. the lockers. stocking the teachers lounge. dusting the armory. before you knew it the curfew ushered the students into their dorms.

a ringtone broke through your thoughts, making you jump. though the tune was soft, the sudden intrusion made it much more shrill. you fumbled with your phone in the passenger seat, seeing megumi’s contact on the screen.

“hello?”

“hey, mom?”

it took everything you had left not to gawk. he said it before, sparingly in desperation for comfort. his voice was quiet, a near-whisper despite the fact he was alone in his dorm. like he was nervous.

“yes, megumi?”

“um… are you home?”

you wondered if he forgot something. “no, i’m still driving. are you okay?”

“i’m fine, i just… can’t sleep, i guess…” he trailed off, hoping for you to fill in the gap.

“oh. okay. did you take–“

“do you think you could pick me up?” he interrupted. “and i just stay home tonight? you could drive me in the morning.”

you were quick to dissolve into a smile, pointed at the streetlamp on the sidewalk. sadness struck your eyes but you were too occupied by the warmth of his question to feel it.

“yeah. i can be back there in a few minutes, just let me turn around.”

“thanks.”

he didn’t hang up. neither did you. the silence lived on for a few seconds.

“mom?”

“yeah?”

“… gojo’s on a mission, right?”

you laughed, your hand sliding across the steering wheel as you reouted back to the school. “yeah, megs, he’ll be gone tonight.”

“he’s back tomorrow?”

“yeah, we can leave before he gets home.”

“thanks.”

bonus:

satoru tiptoed through the entrance of your home, brushing his blindfold over his hair and peeling it off his head. he hung it up with his keys, lax arms nearly missing the hook on the closet door meant for him. it was beyond late, and he was tired, but he was home like he said he would be.

he bent down to tie his shoes, buffering momentarily as he caught a glance of well-worn sneakers at the front door. they were as clean as they could be, though scuffed rubber turning gray and the laces becoming frayed where they were tightened most.

satoru made a grunt in acknowledgement to no one but himself, as he tossed his shoes down. he glanced around the living space, cautiously bringing himself to each room with a curious itch to scratch. a third pair of shoes. both backpacks on the door. dishes for two placed on the drying rack.

he was expertly quiet by nature, but found himself avoiding the squeaky floorboards on the stairs and all the way to the hallway. he was greeted with a blue sign, corners covered with dog stickers. the frilly handwriting of tsumiki warding off unwanted visitors with the phrase: “megumi’s room. keep out!!”

the door opened quietly, satoru pushing it open to the limit and stopping before it would let out an ungodly squeak. he insisted on never getting it fixed, knowing it bothered megumi.

megumi had his face shoved in his pillow, a desperate attempt to block out any light creeping through the crack of his bedroom door or the streetlamp just outside the window. he was always a light sleeper, always on edge, sleeping with his back to the wall so if something barged in the night he was ready. it was horrible he thought that way, you always said.

his duvet covers were black and white plaid, per his request three years ago when he begged to be free of the puppy sheets. still, he seemed small, curled up in a ball. his face was released of the usual tension and his light breathing filled the room. for a moment, he was little again.

satoru smiled, taking a step back and closing the door gently.

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missmeinyourbones · 5 months

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LET ME LOVE YOU ANYWAY

a/n: mentions of alcohol and drunk reader, reader called sweet girl once, reader wears makeup and heels, satoru doing boyfriend duties

Satoru has been watching you fiddle with the strap of your heels for two and a half minutes now.

He'll give you some credit, as the heels are a bit clunky and the buckles a tad finicky. And yes, you are still drunk from your girl's night out. But two and a half minutes of watching you struggle can only be so entertaining.

He's itching at the seams for you to let him help you. On the opposite end of the couch and leaning on the armrest, you can barely sit up straight. He doesn't know how you even have the strength to fight him on this, but he shouldn't be surprised; your stubbornness tends to have a never-ending amount of stamina.

He tries again, softly motioning you to join him on his side of the couch, "C'mere."

He's met with the expected pushback when you whine, "Nooooo, I can do it."

"You can't, baby," he softly reminds you with a sigh.

You gesture to where your ankle rests on your opposite thigh. As if you're clearly proving him wrong, you exaggerate your movements, "I'm doing it right now."

He watches you get nowhere with the tiny buckles on the straps and allows himself to tiredly laugh.

"You're not."

Deciding enough is enough, he moves a cushion closer to you.

"Come here," he doesn't let you scurry away when he brings your foot to rest on his lap, carefully loosening the strap and unwrapping the silly shoe from your ankle.

Through the silence of the house and the drunken mumbling from your lips, he admires your heavy eyelids, how they flutter beneath their own weight like butterflies gliding in the spring.

His lips gently kiss your other ankle after finally freeing you from the contrasts of your heels. "You're allowed to let me help, y'know?" he whispers sweetly.

"I don't need help," you nearly hiss, removing your ankle from his grip and planting your feet on the floor again. "I'm plenty capable of taking my shoes off," you drunkenly lie.

And Satoru smiles at you, proud and bright when he nods.

"I know, but I like to do it, too."

He thanks his speed for your lack of pushback when he's able to scoop you from the couch and carry you to the bathroom. Plopping your deadweight on the sink and keeping a steady hand on your waist, he lets you get comfortable on the counter.

Your swollen feet sway as they dangle from the sink, and Satoru bites his tongue from any comment about you looking cute.

He holds up a bottle of what he knows to be your makeup remover, still going out of his way to ask, "It's this one, right?"

"No," you weakly lie.

Satoru sees right through you. "Yes, it is," he gently scolds. "Stop it."

You watch as he soaks a cotton round with the remover, something he's seen you expertly do about a million times before he brings it to your face and raises his eyebrows.

Your whining continues to commence when you dodge his gentle hands, "I don't need help, Satoru."

"I'll be gentle," he breathes.

"I'll kick your teeth in."

"What a sweet girl I have."

This continues for a minute or so before you get tired and malleable enough to just let him do as he pleases. With a final grumble from you, Satoru begins the gentle process of rubbing your skin.

He's cautious, meticulous around the more sensitive areas as he mimics your usual circular movements. He's extra careful when it's time to remove your eye makeup, watching you look up at him for him to gently tap your lids and whisper a soft, "Close 'em."

Remover turns to face wash which turns to rinsing and toner. And throughout the entire process, Satoru has a soft smile on his face, humming to himself as he admires both his work and your face.

"Such nice skin," he presses two fingers into your forehead. "What's your secret? Getting drunk and letting your boyfriend wash your makeup off?"

"No," you sleepily murmur, eyes closed at the relaxing touch, "he always forgets my moisturizer."

"No, he doesn't," Satoru chuckles. "He just likes to make you a little mad."

After eventually completing your full routine, something he will most definitely be expecting praise for in the morning, he softly rubs the remainder of moisturizer on your cheeks and gently smushes them together for good measure.

He uses the opportunity to plant a tender kiss on your lips, and he's thrilled when you only whine and don't push him away.

He smiles halfway through the kiss, pulling away to press a kiss to your cheek and tease, "Mmmm, tequila."

"Want me to brush?" you can barely open your eyes.

"Nah," Satoru shrugs, grabbing you beneath the thighs and scooping you off of the sink, "let's just go to bed already."

In bed, with your cold feet pressed against his calves and his warm hand resting comfortably against your abdomen, he feels you press a tiny kiss to his exposed bicep.

"Thank you for takin' care of me," you whisper, almost as if you're a bit embarrassed to be admitting it.

Tomorrow, you'll blame it on the cocktails consumed the night before, but Satoru knows you. Knows how hard it can be for you to let someone in, let someone help. And every single time, he's willing to fight for it. Willing to coo and purr at your hissed and fanged attempts to scare him off.

Satoru merely hums into your hair, letting himself close his own eyes and sink into the mattress.

"Thanks for lettin' me."

#gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fic #satoru gojo fic #gojo fludf #satoru gojo fluff #gojo x you #satoru gojo x you

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cptnleviackerman · 5 months

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Brother's best friend

Gojo Satoru x f!reader

Your brother's best friend has never been anything other than mean to you, so why has he turned up to your bedroom window with no invitation? content - 18+, oral (f receiving), fingering, possessive gojo, dubcon, overstimulation, mean gojo, slight yandere but not really, college au, finger sucking, cum tasting, petnames (angel, sweetheart, kitten, princess, baby), male masturbation words - 5.0k

brother's best friend!gojo who is always in your house during school holidays. practically living with you for weeks at a time, somehow not missed by his own family and always annoyingly welcomed by your parents—who offer to let him stay whenever he wants.

brother's best friend!gojo who teases you mercilessly. always managing to think of new ways to insult you— your clothes, your hair, the movies you watch, and even the way you chew—but somehow never getting caught by your parents, who always see him as this golden boy your brother so happily brought into your lives.

brother's best friend!gojo who enjoys making fun of your taste in guys most of all. the first time you brought a guy home Satoru acted like it was Christmas come early. he never left your date alone, practically stuck to his side the entire dinner, asking question after question—faking friendly curiosity in front of your parents, but revelling in your dates obvious uncomfortableness at the probing and personal questions asked as soon as they left the room.

brother's best friend!gojo who ensures you never bring the same date home more than once when he's around. knowing that when you walk your date out the door they'll say something in an awkward tone about how protective your brothers are, leaving you to explain, actually I only have the one brother, the white haired one isn't related to me, a weird feeling of shame and guilt hanging over your head when your date never calls you back.

brother's best friend!gojo who comes over while you're home alone, planning to fake ignorance and assure you that he really had no idea your brother wasn't home, but that he's happy to wait for him to come back—not wanting a pretty thing like you to be all alone. but who instead catches you fucking your ex-boyfriend—the one who you said to your brother was the biggest piece of shit you'd ever met. the one who you'd sworn you'd rather bite your own tongue off than ever see again.

brother's best friend!gojo who can't help but listen to the sounds of your moans—which he is confident are fake—through the door. pressing his ear against it's smooth surface and screwing his eyes shut. he can't help but picture your face contorted in pleasure, wishing he was the one fucking you. knowing that you would never need to fake it with him.

brother's best friend!gojo who doesn't come around for almost a full three days after this. you remark to your brother about how the two of them must be in a lovers quarrel, but you can't help the unease that creeps up on you as the third day comes and goes with no visit—you don't care about him, not like that, but the lack of his annoying presence feels like it's left a hole in your house.

brother's best friend!gojo who texts you out of the blue—his number saved into your phone under a very unsavoury name—asking if you could let him in. confusion clouding your mind as you head towards your bedroom door. the loud tap you hear against your window causing you to turn quickly on your heels and you don't know how you hadn't seen the shadowy figure loitering outside your window before now.

brother's best friend!gojo who doesn't look like himself. his usual well crafted fake-but-doesn't-look-it bed hair is now unmade and unruly. the cocky half smile/ half smirk always plastered on his face has been replaced by deep bags under his eyes, a harrowed look on his face, and darting eyes.

"Gojo…" your voice is unsteady.

You were expecting the usual back and forth—the teasing, the mocking. You were confused by his appearance at your window, sure, but you've never seen him like this—so jumpy and insecure… it's unsettling you.

"Don't fuck him again" Satoru's voice is low, so low that you almost don't hear him.

"Wha—"

"I don't want you anywhere near him again." Satoru keeps his eyes down, refusing to meet your gaze. His hands are deep in his pockets, and you can see his feet shifting. It's making you nervous.

"Him… And you?… It's not right. You shouldn't have—I won't let you again—"

He clears his throat, and the sudden loud noise startles you, making you take a shaky breath. Your ears had become too used to straining to hear the words Gojo was saying—his change in volume almost left your ears ringing, even if it was only a cough. You cup your hands together to try and subdue their shaking, and your jumpiness doesn't go unnoticed by the man in front of you.

You try to speak again, willing your words to come out stronger than you feel. "What are you talking about?"

"He doesn't deserve you. He's not right for you. You have to understand what I mean." Gojo's voice starts to rise as he reaches the end of his sentence.

He takes a step towards you, refusing to put up with the distance you are so clearly trying to put between the two of you. He reaches his hands out towards you, gripping your upper arms in a way that is almost painful.

"The people you've dated, the ones who fucked you and never called you again, they don't deserve you. No one is good enough for you."

You grimace. The reminder of your failed attempts at love and the fuck ups you've let screw you is nothing new from Gojo, but something in his voice makes your heart race. The look on his face causes goosebumps to cover your skin. You can feel his fingernails digging into your flesh, the pain acting as a reminder that he shouldn't be here—your brother's best friend, the one who teases you and mocks you mercilessly, the one who doesn't care about you beyond being a punchline for his jokes—he needs to leave.

"Gojo, you have to go—"

"Don't call me that. I don't want to hear that name fall from your lips again—you call me Satoru from now on."

Your eyebrows knit together, and you wipe your palms against your t-shirt the best you can—a pointless effort to try and calm yourself down. You have no idea what has gotten into Gojo—Satoru—you inwardly correct yourself despite your confusion.

"What are you doing here?" You finally ask, your voice quivering as you do so, unable to stop your nerves from showing.

Satoru smiles, but it's still not his usual smile, his mouth contorts in a way that makes you want to shrink away from him—his tight grip on your arms making this impossible. It's unsettling, everything about him has seemed unsettling to you this evening. You want to run. Your regret at letting him in through your window threatens to swallow you whole, and yet… you can't look away from him. He still commands your attention, your focus, like he always does when he's in your house. Except this time it's different, you don’t feel safe with him, not exactly, but you know he’s not going to use his words to harm you—he's not going to call you names or make you feel insecure or mock your clothes. He’s mesmerising—you realise with a start—you’ve never been this close to him before, never allowing yourself to look at him with anything other than disdain. With his cocky attitude and his sneer wiped off his face, he's actually quite pretty. His eyes glow with an iridescent blue shine—you realise you'd only ever seen them through your own narrow glare, your harshness towards Satoru clouding your vision, never letting you see the true brightness of his eyes, only ever seeing what you wanted to see. The angles of his face make him even more alluring, the way in which every bone and sharp edge fits him perfectly—as if someone had spent time crafting him to be God’s most beautiful creature.

Satoru watches you as your eyes glaze over, as if you were deep in thought about something—someone, he hopes. He notices when you absentmindedly run your tongue across your lower lip. He notices when your breathing changes pace, and when your hands fall limp at your side, the shaking finally subsiding. He watches all of these things happen, but what gets his attention the most is when your mouth falls open.

He doesn't know how he's managed to stay away from you for this long. All those years he's spent teasing you and making you feel small, being friends with your brother, being welcomed into your family as if it was his own—he never imagined he’d be here, finally giving in to what he truly desires.

He remembers the first day he met you, your brother had given him warning that you’d be home, “just ignore my little sister, she's barely a year younger than us but she can be a real pain in my ass sometimes”. Satoru had thought nothing of it at the time, chuckling lightly as he stepped through your front door. He was ready to chill out and watch the game—on the couch your brother had been raving about for almost 3 weeks—a cold beer in his hand and his feet resting on the coffee table. But he had stopped almost dead in his tracks at the very first glance he got of you—your hair swishing behind you as you hurried about in the kitchen.

You hadn’t heard the two of them enter the kitchen, too busy clearing up the final few freshly cleaned dishes you had washed. The small gasp you had let out had made it obvious you scared easily, and you turned quickly on your heels when your brother had cleared his throat. You had smiled ever so politely at Satoru when your brother had introduced him to you, in the way that people do when they meet someone for the first time, but Satoru could tell you were wary of him, even if he wasn't sure exactly where your hesitation came from.

He had watched you and your brother converse, teasing conversation bouncing between the two of you—it was friendly, despite the slight contempt in your brother’s tone earlier. Satoru had leant against the doorframe while he watched you, he had found himself fascinated with how you moved. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, every movement you took, every step and stretch and smile had him entranced.

It wasn't until you were on your way out of the kitchen that you finally spoke to him for the first time. He watched as you walked towards him, you had a plate of food in one hand, and your other hand had come to rest on your hip. Your eyes had narrowed as you looked at him, clearly bothered by his choice to lounge in the doorway.

“Hello…? Are you going to stand there all day? Or can I actually move around in my own house?”

Your brother had scolded you as you pushed past Satoru and headed towards the stairs. And you had stuck up your middle finger in return. Your brother had apologised for your behaviour, but his apologies had fallen on deaf ears, Satoru didn't care that you were rude, he didn't care that all you showed towards him in that moment was dislike, and he didn't care that he hadn't had a chance to properly talk to you. He knew one day he would have you—he needed to have you. Your obvious disdain for him would make the day you finally submitted all the more sweeter—he didn't care how long it took.

“What are you doing here?” You ask again, your voice stronger than it was before.

Satoru turns his head, looking down at you as if the fact that you were still here was a surprise to him. You felt his fingers flex slightly, sending a shiver down your spine… He still had his hold on you, you began to wonder if he would ever let you go.

“I’m here to make you mine.”

He said it so plainly that it took you a second to register what he was saying.

He wanted to make you his…? But why? He’d never shown any interest in you before. He’d never once left any evidence in your interactions that would’ve caused you to believe that he liked you, let alone that he wanted to make you his… whatever that meant...

“I don’t believe you…” You whisper, your voice so quiet that Satoru only caught your words because he was waiting for them.

“You don’t believe me?” Satoru’s tone is teasing, and he has a smirk on his face, but something about his words makes your breath hitch.

“No… You—you’ve never—you don’t—you aren't serious.” You take a breath. “You don’t like me, you barely tolerate me. Whatever the real reason you decided to climb into my bedroom tonight, it's not that…It can't be.”

“Why can’t that be the real reason, huh princess? You don’t think you’re good enough for me? Is that it?” Satoru doesn't wait for you to answer. “Do you seriously think I would be here right now if I didn't like you? All the things I've done for you…Do you really think it's a coincidence that none of your dates ever called you back after they met me for the first time? Do you think you would be invited to all of those parties on campus if I wasn’t there making sure every idiot jock and blonde bimbo knew who you were? All of the lecturers and T.As I’ve threatened to make sure you get the best grades possible…are you telling me you don't appreciate any of that? That I shouldn't have bothered with any of it…"

Satoru turns to leave, finally releasing you from his tight grasp, but he knows you won't let him get very far. There's no way you aren't dying to ask him what he meant by all of that. You need him to clarify. He's certain of it.

You let out a small squeak, warmth beginning to spread from your face down to your neck. Unable to stop yourself, you take a step forward.

"Wait…"

You practically fall into Satoru's back, failing to notice that he hadn't got very far, too busy rushing forward to notice much of anything. You hear a low chuckle as he turns around, one of his hands coming to cup your face. Shock runs straight through you as he begins to gently rub his thumb across your cheekbone, his other hand now resting on your waist. The sharp difference of his hold on you makes your head spin, no longer is he harsh and rough like before, he's instead holding you as if you are the most fragile thing on earth. As if one fast movement would cause you to break in two.

"I'm right here, angel. I'm not going anywhere."

Satoru is blinded by his glee, he can't believe how well this is going for him. The fact that you were just the one chasing him…

"You needed me that bad, huh?" He means for it to come out teasing, but the need in his voice is evident, even to your surprised ears.

Satoru doesn't waste one more second, he's waited long enough, all those years he's known your brother, all those years he's visited your house… if he doesn't get a taste of you now he knows he won't be able to stop himself from pouncing on you the next time he sees you, even if you're surrounded by your entire family. And that's probably not something they want to see, he thinks.

You can sense something different about Satoru as he looks down at you, as if something just shifted inside of him. His eyes are dark, laced with hunger, and your eyes can't help but follow as he licks his lips. You let out a small gasp when you feel yourself begin to move, Satoru guides you gently, but with haste, back towards your bed. Your knees knock against the edge and Satoru lets you slip from his grasp, watching as you lose your balance and fall backwards onto your mattress.

You scurry to the end of the bed opposite Satoru, trying to put some distance between the two of you, but your efforts are for naught. Satoru crawls toward you, closing the gap with little effort, until he's right in front of you again. He watches as you turn your head from side to side, looking for an escape route, he thinks, but he knows you won’t find one.

His hands reach for your ankles, grasping them tightly as he pulls them backwards, shifting your entire body until you lie flat on the bed. He wastes no time, lying himself on top of you immediately, unable to suppress a groan at feeling your entire body under his.

He attaches his lips to your neck, planting open mouth kisses all along your jaw and down to the base of your throat, you let out a whine at the contact and try and reach your hands toward his shirt, looking for anything to grip on to. Satoru notices your movement and grabs your hands with his own, still focused on kissing your neck, he manages to pin both your wrists down on the bed next to your head.

“Please don’t try to move, kitten.” He pouts, breathing the words against your neck, and you feel a shiver run down your spine.

Satoru reattaches his lips to your neck, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. As if fuelled by your moans, Satoru presses himself against you, trying to relieve himself of the ache that is beginning to form just below his waistband. You whine when you notice what he’s doing, craning your neck you manage to see his hips moving as he rubs himself against your leg. You try to move your arms, riggling them in an attempt to free yourself, but to no avail, Satoru’s grip gets even tighter the more you move.

You let out a shaky breath as Satoru moves his kisses further down your neck, he smiles against your skin when he feels you tense up. But just as he reaches your collarbones he pulls away, wanting to admire his work on your throat.

You are covered in his marks, dark purple splotches paint your neck like you were nothing more than a canvas for Satoru. He gently traces the marks with his fingertips, moving the few fallen strands of hair that block his view. Pride swells in his chest, knowing that anyone who looks at you will be able to guess what you've been up to makes his cock throb. He presses himself hard against your leg, groaning loudly, and he bites his lip when he sees the look in your eye.

You can't explain why, but hearing the noises Satoru makes from only pressing himself against you makes your whole body tingle. The realisation that you want to hear more sends a jolt of embarrassment through you, but your arousal outways any shame you feel. You arch your back slightly, aiming to press yourself closer to Satoru's cock, you can already feel the outline against your leg. He lets out another groan, this time looking you straight in the eye. He smiles when you look away, as if you hadn't fully realised what you were doing, or maybe you were just embarrassed, he thinks.

“Do you like what you feel, princess?”

You nod, watching as Satoru sits up. He gently traces his fingers along the side of your face, before moving further down your body until his head hovers over your thighs. You suddenly feel self conscious about what you're wearing, and Satoru must notice—at the same time it dawns on you—that all you're wearing is an oversized t-shirt. You see him lick his lips, his hands coming to rest on your hips. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, and your legs shake ever so slightly.

He locks eyes with you as his hands move under the hem on your t-shirt, the touch of his hands on your skin makes your heart beat faster. He hooks his fingers under the band of your underwear, pausing, before he begins to pull them off of you. You buck your hips to make it easier for him, and he whispers a small thank you.

He discards your underwear someplace behind him, now too focused on your naked cunt to think much about anything else. He shuffles further back, pulling you with him until you are right at the edge on the bed. Satoru kneels in front of you, his hands resting on your thighs, as he bends his head his breath warms your skin, tickling you. You screw your eyes shut as his tongue comes in contact with your cunt, he smiles against you when he hears you whine at him, a breathy “move, toru” leaving your lips. But he wants to work slowly, he wants to focus on the noises you make, and try to figure out exactly how you like it. He wants it to be perfect.

You watch as Satoru’s hands grip your thighs, his fingers dig into your flesh. You let out a loud moan when he presses a hard kiss to your clit, and your eyes roll back when he uses his tongue, lapping up your juices from between your folds, the unfamiliar sensation makes you squirm.

Your scent overwhelms Satoru’s senses, and he suddenly feels a new wave of want overcome him. His lips wrap around your clit, and he rolls it against his tongue. You purr underneath him, your body responding deliciously to his movements.

The only noise in the room comes from Satoru slurping at your pussy, he works tirelessly, his head buried between your thighs, waiting for you to cry out his name again. He would do anything to hear you moan for him, but he doesn't have enough patience to wait for you to be comfortable enough to do so—if he has to work two, three, four times as hard to hear your pretty voice, he will.

Your eyes snap open when you feel Satoru’s mouth disappear from your clit, already missing the sensation of his mouth on you, your head turns, aiming down towards him when your mouth is met by one of his hands. He forces two of his fingers inside your mouth without warning, slipping them past your lips and pressing them down on your tongue. Your head moves almost instinctively, sucking and rolling your tongue against the digits with a confidence that Satoru reads as practiced ease. The thought of you doing this with someone else makes his chest burn, red hot jealously courses through his veins, making his head dizzy.

His fingers disappear as fast as they appeared, and you whine at the sudden loss between your lips. But Satoru leaves you no time to complain, he forces his spit covered fingers past your folds, and he watches as they get enveloped in your warmth. His eyes roll back, and he bites his lip to stifle a groan.

“Fuck—you're so tight, princess—shit.”

He pumps his fingers into you frantically, his heart racing wildly because of the pace he's set himself. He's ruthless in his speed, and it makes your head spin.

It's not long before your legs begin to shake, your breath hitching as you draw closer and closer to the release you so desperately crave. Your whole body thrums with electricity, the way Satoru is touching you makes your mind cloudy, unable to think about anything more than the pleasure he's giving to you. His fingers fit perfectly inside of you, and you're sure he was made to be there.

Your pussy squelches lewdly, and Satoru smiles, uncharacteristically soft, and not at all fitting for the situation he currently has you in. His eyes dance across your figure, watching your stomach spasm as he brings you closer to your orgasm. He feels you clench around his fingers, your breathing getting increasingly more rapid. Your eyes meet his and the look on Satoru's face makes you squeeze your eyes closed—as if not looking at him will make the oddly lovesick look disappear from his face.

“C’mon, baby—please—need you to cum now… need to feel you cum around my fingers, baby. Please please please.”

Satoru has no idea why he was begging you to cum, all the times he had pictured having you like this, he was always the one in charge. He was always the one to keep his composure, waiting for you to lose yourself within the pleasure he was giving you.

Something about his voice made the knot inside your stomach tighten. The need written on his face, coupled with despair with which he was begging for you to cum was too much for you. Your arms reached out, gripping Satoru's shirt tightly. You breathed his name over and over—torutorutorutoru—as if in prayer, letting your orgasm wash over you. Satoru cursed as you came around his fingers, your tight pussy never stopping him from pumping his fingers into you, helping you ride out your orgasm for as long as he could.

You didn't know the last time you had come that hard—if you ever had, the amount of times you had to fake it for your exes was uncountable. Your chest heaved, your breathing still erratic as you let your eyes flutter closed. Satoru had slowed down his movements, removing his fingers from you with a pop!

He brought his hand up to his face, letting your scent waft over him. He licked his lips, drawing his tongue across his fingertips before letting his mouth drop open. He slipped his fingers inside, groaning as he did so. But the mere remnants of your cum on his fingers was not enough. He needed more.

He dropped back to his knees without a thought, hands gripping your thighs even tighter than before, causing you to open your eyes. You were unsure of what he was doing, but before you could ask, or take a look, his tongue was lapping up the juices from your pussy.

All you can hear are the noises Satoru was making against you, your own moans are quiet in comparison to his. He groans against your cunt, and desperate for some friction he grabs a pillow that had fallen from your bed and stuffs it between his legs. He slurps all the mess you'd made from your previous orgasm, making sure not a single drop was left untasted.

Your hands dart straight to his hair, gripping the strands tightly between your fingers. You try to move his head, desperate to give yourself some reprieve from his unfaltering assault on your already overstimulated pussy. But he is too strong. His head burys itself deeper between your legs, focusing now on your swollen clit. He sucks the bud into his mouth, planting kisses and rolling his tongue across it mercilessly.

The pillow between his legs was not forgotten, and amidst the wet noises coming from your pussy you are able to hear Satoru's own moans. He thrusts himself against the pillow's material, rolling his hips and giving his rock hard cock some long awaited attention.

As he got himself closer to release all he could think about was how desperately he wanted his cock inside you. He wanted to paint you with his cum, mark you as his, make sure you never thought about letting anyone else inside his pussy ever again.

He groans at the thought, and shivers rock your body. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as Satoru continus his brutal assault on your clit, your hands still tightly gripping his hair but you could feel your strength diminishing the closer you got to your second orgasm. Broken sobs and whispered whimpers are all that escape your throat, your mind is scattered, an overstimulated mess. Satoru could not have been more thrilled at your state, only lifting his lips off of you for a second to praise your behaviour.

“You're doing so well for me, sweetheart. Letting me wreck your pussy like this—hhhng fuck—gonna reward you, baby—shit—we’re gonna cum together, okay?”

All you could do was nod weakly and let out a quiet hum to answer Satoru's question. Your whole body was shaking, your legs were completely out of your control, and Satoru considered himself lucky you hadn't accidentally hit him in the head because of how much you were moving.

He smiles against your clit, your overstimulated moans coupled with the tears he knew were falling from your eyes brought him hurtling towards his own orgasm. It took all the strength he had to focus on making you finish, his thrusts against the pillow becoming more sloppy and his moans getting louder and louder as he sucked and nipped at your sensitive clit.

Your arms jerk against his head, falling down to land on the mattress next to you, as your breaths shortened Satoru was certain you were about to cum, a cry from your lips solidifying this suspicion—“mmcumminhgg”.

Satoru's eyes rolled back, “me too, sweetheart—fuck—cumming with you, cumming with my needy slut.”

Your eyes squeeze tightly shut as you come for the second time, but you could feel Satoru spasm against your abused cunt. He whines from below you, still sucking your clit, while he painted the inside of his boxers with ropes of his cum.

Your body shocks begin to ease as he moves his mouth and begins to plant kisses along the inside of your thighs, but your legs still feel wobbly and your head is still spinning from how powerful your orgasm was.

Satoru drags himself onto his feet, momentarily standing before flopping his body on top of yours. He shifts until he is comfortable, burying his head in your neck and breathing in your scent.

“You're so perfect. My perfect, perfect girl. I love you so much—god—yes, I do.” Satoru breaths, the words barely louder than a whisper. “You're mine now, I am never gonna let you slip outta my fingers, never gonna let anyone else touch you.”

#this took me so long to finish #but im so glad I finally did because i love it so much #he's so...#uhgggggh Iwant him #probably will write more in this vein because it was so fun hehehw #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru fic #satoru gojo fic #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #sage.fics

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chosos-mascara · 9 months

Text

gojo's bride

𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - as part of the ryomen clan, your life revolves around organised crime. when your father tells you you're destined to marry naoya zen'in, you're left with little choice but to run.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - mafia au, violence, arranged marriage, guns, killing/shooting in one scene, you're on the run, bounty hunter toji, marriage

side characters: suguru, sukuna and toji

5.4k words

Throughout childhood, an image of marriage is painted by your family. A contract between soulmates; a display of love to a person. Notes of a traditional wedding decorated with chairs of close friends and relatives, smiles wide and eyes glassy. Or, maybe you were better suited to a romantic elopement followed by a getaway, littered with intimate moments before announcing yourself a wife. In the end, the outcome is the same, one drilled into you by your parents since a young age. Perhaps while innocent, you had indulged within the images of a princess-like gown and florals winding around an ornate staircase - though with age and your growing understanding of your father's business values, you'd understood this wasn't a day to look forward to.

When those in your clan would mention a prospective husband, someone your father would pick by hand, your heart would race excitedly, hands grasping over your chest as you swooned in adoration. There had been a semblance of what you'd pictured your future husband to look like, though that had since dwindled. When hitting twenty, reality setting in that this was another thing you would not experience normally, you tried to push the idea away. To your family, you were a pawn, and your marriage would be nothing other than an advantage to them; because when born as a woman within the world of Japanese illegitimate business, there were more hurdles than most. Your life had been seemingly filled with one sacrifice after another, and marriage was looking to be the largest one yet.

Which is why, a courthouse wedding planned only twelve hours prior hadn't been what you'd envisioned. Despite the loss of formality and tradition there had still been anxiousness bubbling within the pit of your stomach, hands clammy as you took hold of the man you'd barely known while reciting an unbreakable oath. Instead of a dress, you'd been in cargos and a long sleeved top, though Gojo had displayed a little more care over the ordeal - a crisp blue shirt and slacks, black lenses over his eyes an a Rolex on his wrist. He slid the ring over your finger, delivering vows that had meant very little to either of you, and you'd repeated the action moments later, heart racing when the officiant had announced that you were now bound by law. Geto and Sukuna signed the certificate, and the four of you left to return to the shitty apartment you'd been hiding within for the past week. A weight had been lifted, but a new one had only taken its place.

"Now, the reason we're gathered here is due to an important announcement within the family." Your father spoke, lips curving upward into a smile as his eyes darted to your own. It had been obvious when your parents had requested your presence for dinner there had been an ulterior motive, with yourself being left alone unless there had been news, or you'd been in need of discipline. It had usually been the latter, with being in your twenties and having a powerful father while being rebellious to his rules, there had been frequent fall-outs. Though within the moment his cold stare met yours, you'd understood exactly what he'd been about to say.

"I've picked a partner for my daughter, finally." Through his thin smile, jagged teeth had shown. "Next week, she'll become a Zen'in, and our clan will reap the benefits of being united with one of the top three." For such a disgusting statement, he spoke with confidence, watching through beady eyes as the chatter of close and distant family members erupted, though mostly from excitement. "What?" The quiet protest fell between conversations of others, any further objections died on your tongue. He looked down at you, a vacant stare before continuing. Your gaze fluttered to your mother to ask for a semblance of empathy, yet you were met with the same ruthless eyes.

"Naoya Zen'in, my future son in law, will aid in managing business, merging with his father's company." The name had rang alarm bells through your already cascading mind, oblivion on the horizon. Naoya, a bigger misogynist than any man within your clan, a person referred to as scum by anyone with half a brain.

There had been an uncomfortable cough opposite you, your panicked gaze meeting the dark eyes of your cousin. He's raised a brow, placing serviette beside plate as his head tilted toward large wooden doors - the only exit from the dining hall. You took a moment to think, mouth agape and heart racing, before standing. A large push through your daze of emotion had been all it had taken to activate the flight response, leaving your seat to run toward your room.

Once your head had hit pillow, tears flooded through your eyes, face plush to soft sheets in order to drown out the sobs raking over your body. The Zen'ins had been one of three leading clans within the mafia, alongside Kamo and Gojo. Three lineages known to be the dirtiest of all, though due to honor had been treated as if royalty. You'd heard Sukuna speak of Naoya in passing, and his disgust with the man he'd only met in passing.

"Hey," Sukuna's voice filled the air between muffled cries, body shaking and breaths heavy as you'd turned to face the figure walking through the room. Shifting, you sat with your back against the headboard, a pillow in your lap as the mattress dipped to allow space to your only friend. "I'm so sorry-" Sukuna began, bringing a hand to his face and sighing. "This is bad."

The weight of the situation before you had grown heavier when your cousin had admitted his own alarm. Sukuna feared no one, and had taught you to follow him on the same path of callousness; jobs executed with little remorse or care. Your partnership had resembled siblings to outsiders in the sense that you'd been family no one would cross, even if Ryomen had been a relatively new name within this world. With the company founded by your grandfather, there had been just enough time to spread word of the name, though when comparing feats to that of Gojo or Kamo, Ryomen had appeared ant-sized.

"I can't," You stuttered over words between labored breaths, a harsh squeeze over the pillow clutched within your grip, pressing into your stomach. "Sukuna, I really can't do this." Brown eyes scanned over you once more, concern riddled within the pupils, down turned eyebrows creating a crease at his forehead. He hadn't seen you like this before; distraught, scared. Since childhood, the pair of you had pushed emotion from your psyche, swearing vow to be honest only with the other. Each of you had promised to be the only person to trust in the harsh world you'd been brought into. In adulthood, you'd met with him significantly less, and Sukuna had built a name for himself as the Ryomen with the dirtiest hands. Yet, the vow would not be broken.

"There's a place downtown," Sukuna's voice had been hushed, a sigh from his lips before continuing. "Tonight, we'll leave. You can stay until I find a way to get you out of this mess." The statements he'd spoken had been frantic as he'd tried to make sense of the visions in his head - if he would've simply been born with more intelligence, perhaps he'd have been better aid when you'd needed him most.

"What's that going to do?" You laughed through helpless sobs, rolling eyes at the promise he'd made - though with trembling lips and fingernails scratching anxiously over the skin of your arm, your body had demonstrated the true terror within you. "Dad's not going to cancel a deal halfway through, not with the Zen'ins." Reiterating your point, you tried to push him away from an ill-planed escape, however much you'd needed him to give his all. "We'll figure this out, okay?" Tattooed fingers smoothed through his hair, dullness within his gaze as he watched over your deflated form.

It had been midnight when you'd left. With only a backpack for belongings, you'd stuffed it to the best of your ability before slipping through the bedroom window, prayers whispered as you'd absconded the building. Hopefully, your family would notice your disappearance after you'd left their surveillance lines.

Sukuna had waited a block away, engine running as he'd awaited your presence in the passenger side. It hadn't taken much pleading before Suguru had agreed to house you, only having to hear the Zen'in name before allowing you to seek refuge, though he couldn't deny his concerns of being found even while in a safe house. After holding his breath while waiting for you, you'd finally emerged, slumping against the passenger seat. Sukuna had now been in control of your fate, shifting into drive.

The journey hadn't been long, reaching the building within a half hour, though concern riddling your mind upon entry. A run down apartment block, ivy curving into single-pane windows to grow along the white-washed brick inside, cracked tiles beneath your feet left unwashed and elevator jolting upon movement. Your travels had been led mostly in silence, each remaining expressionless despite the mental hellfire you were wading through.

Stopping at a wooden door, a brass 206 nailed into the middle of the wood, Sukuna had only had to knock once before it had opened. Stomach dropping, you stepped back, frantically looking to your cousin to voice your shock and betrayal when seeing the blue eyes behind the door. It hadn't made sense why Sukuna had brought you to a Gojo hideout - one of the leading clans alongside the Zen'ins.

"Don't worry." The familiar brown eyes met your own, stern countenance and monotone voice as he'd placed a hand over your shoulder, a light push forward. "Satoru isn't like his family." After Sukuna's reassurance, the Gojo had opened the door wider, stepping to the side to accommodate both you and your cousin as you passed through. The apartment's interior hadn't reflected the halls outside, being well decorated and clean. Following Sukuna through to the kitchen, you watched as he seated himself at the table, inked hand reaching to his pocket to fish out a carton of straights, pulling one from the pack and setting it to his lips. The amber of his lighter emerged after only one flick of the steel, lighting the end of the cigarette and taking a drag.

"This is Gojo Satoru." Sukuna broke the silence, gesturing toward the white haired male you'd met with moments prior. The smoke drifting upward from the end of his cigarette wafted as he waved his hand, stopping as a painted nail pointed behind you. "That's Geto Suguru." Turning, you were met with a new face, though a name you'd recognised.

Both males introduced had been tall, differing builds yet similar black ink etched into their skin. Satoru had been lanky, yet his height and demeanour gave an aura you hadn't often experienced, one of importance. Gojo's limbs had been decorated, though the most notable artwork had been the clan mark of Gojo: an eye on the right side of the neck. An immediate sign of strength for those who understood its meaning. Geto had been much broader, manner radiating from physical build rather than an intense aura. His physical strength had been clear.

"Goes without saying that you can't leave the apartment." Sukuna's words had been low, eyes fixed to you with an intimidating stare. The heartfelt and honest personality he'd shared with you had switched when in the presence of others, Sukuna instead watching through an emotionless gaze as you reacted to his words. The instruction had been one that had your brow furrowing and arms crossing, though Geto had interrupted before you'd had the chance to counter. "Naoya Zen'in is dangerous." Geto leaned back on a countertop, both hands supporting his weight as he continued. "Not because he's strong - it's because he's weak. People follow him only through fear." Geto shifted, eyes straying to the floor before meeting yours once more. "Naoya doesn't kill - he tortures, molests, creates hell for those who don't give him his way. Even then, he's too cowardly to do anything with his own hands." Suguru's statements had your blood running cold, a lump forming within your throat.

"If he finds you, it's over." Sukuna continued from his friend, another puff of smoke passing his lips. He leaned back, usual stoic expression saddening you after the anomaly of sympathy he'd displayed earlier that evening. "It's not just your life on the line right now; if they know we're involved, there's consequences-" One thing you'd despised throughout your life had been being treated as if a child, awfully long explanations from those who'd considered themselves smarter than you; almost always describing words of common sense. "I know." Quick to interject, you'd stopped Geto's lecture, straightening yourself. "I'll stay here." You met your cousin's eyes as he stood from the chair, opening the window situated behind the sink to throw the smoked-cigarette through, closing it once discarded.

Sukuna had departed shortly after, cautious as not to raise suspicion. Between his few visits, you would be on no-contact, careful not to expose your whereabouts to your own family, or any clan allied with them. After twenty hours, your parents had reported you missing, stomach churning when details of a bounty had been explained in grueling detail by Gojo. He'd sat through an uncomfortable conversation within his own clan's meeting, reciting the disdain from the Zen'ins when the topic of Ryomen had been brought up in passing.

It had been three days before Sukuna had visited once more, tense body radiating nothing other than intense stress. He'd attempted to appear un-phased by the events surrounding you, but when seeing the tired eyes and hunched back, you'd understood he'd been suffering. He'd slumped down in the kitchen chair once again, lighting up a cigarette before beginning to formulate words. The actions had mirrored that of your first evening in confinement, a feeling of deja-vu as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"They're getting restless." He spoke, deep voice much rougher due to lack of sleep and an increase in his smoking habit. Gojo sighed, taking a seat beside him. You fiddled with your thumbs above the table, helpless to the strains both you and your cousin had faced. "Sukuna." Speaking his name had caused his eyes to flicker up and land to your expression. "I don't think there's anything we can do." His stop-off at the apartment had been limited, agreeing between the four of you that his visits should not exceed ten minutes. His departure had grown closer with every passing second, but a conclusion had yet to be found.

"We'll find something." His reassurance had fallen to your deaf ears, instead of bringing comfort, his statement had instead made you feel as if your concerns were brushed off. He'd began to slip away, leaving yourself seated at the table, still helpless to the world surrounding you. There was nothing you could do in the small apartment, even if you'd wanted to aid in finding a loophole, or a solution.

The following morning had marked four days missing, in which you'd grown increasingly depressive and bored. The new roommates you'd gained had often left for jobs and abandoned you to your own devices - which had been daytime television and chores. Being on the run had meant you were unable to use a phone or computer, and being alone most of the time had eradicated the chance of passing time through conversation or games.

On the odd occasion only one of the males had been home, there had been one you'd preferred to the other. Gojo's presence had felt much greater than Geto's (even if he'd been more annoying). Gojo had at least made attempts at conversations. When overcoming the sense of pity Gojo had displayed toward you, he'd been pleasant to talk with, speaking of shared interests such as movies and music. Gojo had been passionate, often becoming excitable when remembering certain scenes or moments within his favourite media - though he could become equally as shut-off. There was a darkness within Gojo you knew he'd held close, and when childlike wonder had worn off, there was a very different person beneath.

Geto had been mostly silent, though you could feel the heavy judgement through his body language. His gaze had been heavy on your skin, eyes narrowing with each movement and shoulders tense. It had been clear Geto did not trust you, and had more reluctance toward befriending you than Gojo had.

Bringing a damp garment to hang over metal pole, you threaded fabric through the bars of the indoor clothes-horse, hanging them to dry. Much of your time spent in the apartment when both men had been home had been within the kitchen, mostly as not to burden the others with your presence. Though as you grabbed another shirt to dry, you'd noticed a tall figure at the door.

"Are you doing laundry?" Gojo questioned, shoulder pressed up to the frame as he watched your movements. You nodded, returning back to the task at hand. "My bag was small so I've run out of clean clothes." Exhaling, you drooped the cotton over, straightening out a few creases. He smirked, finally pushing himself from the wood to waltz toward the cupboard, pulling a bag of sweets from a shelf and tearing it open. Placing a hard-boiled candy between his lips, he gestured the bag toward you. "Want one?" The query had been muffled and accompanied by a few clicks of the sweet against his teeth. You shook your head, a small smile as if to thank him before he'd shrugged and brought the bag back toward his chest.

Instead of leaving, Gojo had seated himself at the table, the perfect view to the chore you'd been partaking within. His eyes had burned into you, yet you'd attempted to continue as usual, facing away from the blue eyes to push cotton over wire. But after hanging another garment, you sighed, head over shoulder to lock your gaze once more.

"Am I entertaining you?" He hadn't replied until you'd finished, your body turned to face him fully, eyes locked onto yours as he shrugged, a crack of the candy between his molars. "Never done it." He commented nonchalantly, picking another sweet from the bag. The rustling lasted a few seconds before he was back to eating, a dramatic exhale from his nose. "That's cause you were a trust-fund baby." Walking toward him, your bare feet tapped against the tiled floor as you brought an arm upward, fingers outstretched and sight locked onto the bag within his hand. Just before you'd been able to dive a hand into the plastic, he moved it to the side, leaving your fingertips bare.

"Feisty for someone who's living in my apartment." He commented, blue eyes narrowing as he watched you roll your eyes yet admit defeat through your gestures, instead flopping down on the chair beside him. You sat in silence for a few moments, eyes wondering to the window above the sink - the only window within the apartment that hadn't been covered by curtains and allowed some semblance of light to cascade through. Although you'd appreciated this, there had still been some annoyance to the reminder of the outside world, and how you'd been unable to step foot within it.

The fifth day, you'd finally brought yourself the courage to ask.

At the table during breakfast, the opportunity had arisen in which you had both men seated with you, coffee situated before each body. "Can you bring me shopping today?" The request would likely be denied, a faint memory of Geto's obvious distrust and worry that you'd be seen and captured if stepping foot outside. But, you'd hoped that being on the outskirts of Tokyo, you were unlikely to be recognized, and with both men beside you, you'd be well-protected. Perhaps the idea had been completely idiotic, and when met with Geto's stern expression and furrowed brow, you'd understood the likelihood had been slim to none.

"Well," Gojo had began first as expected, the less stern presence easing your anxiety. "We're meeting Sukuna first-" "She's not coming." Geto had been quick to shoot the idea down before Gojo had allowed a semblance of hope to form. He stood, bending over the table to gather the plates from breakfast. As he leaned across, his shirt had lifted upward, revealing a handgun against his stomach that he'd had tucked into his trousers. You hadn't allowed your sight to linger too long on the weapon, though it had crossed your mind when pleading with him. "I'll keep my hood up, please Geto-san." You bowed your head, squeezing eyes closed while trying desperately to find an excuse. Swallowing back your pride, you continued. "I need tampons."

You hadn't looked up until you were sure Geto's expression would have softened, though when returning your gaze upward, he'd been visibly taken aback, eyes wide and lips parted. "Whaddya say Geto-san?" Gojo's added emphasis on the term had caused you to outwardly cringe, a reminder of one of the lower moments in your life. "Be quick." Short and spiteful, yet the words you'd wanted to hear most. You'd fought to hide the growing grin across your face, undeniably shocked by the permission you'd been granted. Gojo laughed at the display, hand languidly laying itself upon your shoulder before giving you a light shove. "Get your coat, sweetheart."

When approaching the pink haired Ryomen, you'd expected a foul expression, rant, or some form of physical punishment - yet instead he'd remained still, face unreadable. He'd been leaning against broken brick, cigarette in hand, pushing himself from the back-wall of some run-down establishment to stand upright. Seeing him like this had feared you more - Sukuna wasn't one to be lax over broken rules. There would be a significant reason he hadn't reacted to your presence.

"She insisted-" Geto had began his defensive speech, though had stopped when Sukuna had raised a hand with the shake of his head. Holding the half smoked cigarette had been bloodied fingers, cuts decorating pale knuckles. "Probably better she's here for this." The words had your chest tightening, drop within your stomach when your gaze lingered over the wounded hand, being left to imagine the face that had been on the other side of his fist. "They've got a bounty on you. Saying we owe them money - the Zen'in's own you now."

There hadn't been long to process his statement as he'd taken a step forward, another drag of his cigarette through stiff lips. "They've got Toji on her."

Although you hadn't understood the weight of this comment, you could feel the men beside you tense, a quick glance toward Geto telling you all you'd needed to know. His skin had paled, and eyes widened.

"Are you armed?" The question had added mass to your shoulders, a realization that your freedom had been coming to a close. Toji would have to be bad for all three men within your vicinity to be uncomfortable.

"Sukuna, we can't-" Eyes watering, you'd traced over the handgun tucked within your waistband, metal cooling trembling fingertips. "You can't do anything. This is it."

Sukuna shook his head defensively, quick to begin a bitter reply and deter you from a path of righteousness. Though, the pop of a gunshot had taken stage before he'd had a chance to stutter more than a syllable, hands flying toward belt. Your fingers wrapped around the grip of the weapon you hadn't intended to use as you searched the alleyway for a body, adrenaline fueling your faster reaction time. Two men had stood at the entrance, the taller of the two aiming his own pistol in your direction. As he took steps toward you, the sunlight had hit his face, revealing a tilted smile, lips kissed by a thick scar.

"Hands up, pretty girl." His voice had been rugged and deep, teeth bearing as he'd awaited your movement. You'd hesitated before raising both hands, persuaded only when his friend had taken a step forward, shotgun between his hands aimed toward Geto, who had been stood closest to the alley's entrance.

"Toji. She's not armed." Sukuna's monotone voice didn't waver as he'd glanced at his allies. He'd hoped his lie would pass - you could sense his tension if the other's hadn't. "Ryomen. This your cousin?" Toji exhaled in amusement. "Been looking for her. Healthy bounty on your head, kid." His laughter had been entwined with malice, blood running cold as you'd met with green eyes.

"You hate the Zen'ins. What changed?" Sukuna had asked, though had been shut down through Toji's quickfire response. "Money's money. Hand her over, 'n we'll let you live." He'd used his left hand to usher you toward him, jagged smile increasing the panic you'd felt frozen by.

Sukuna had withdrawn his own weapon, and Toji's expression soured at his movement.

It had been a split second decision.

You pulled your pistol from your jacket, aiming toward Toji's chest and pulling trigger. His eyes had widened in shock as he'd stumbled backward, wounded. It hadn't been fatal, though enough to stun him as your barrel aimed toward his partner. His body had fallen backward much faster than Toji's had, a clear display of you accuracy. Before the black haired half had time to react, you'd ran, left hand instinctively grabbing hold of Sukuna's wrist.

Only when Sukuna had slumped against the kitchen table, drops of blood dripping over the aged wood, had realized he'd been wounded. Your eyes set over the bullet hole in his bicep, a crimson patch darkening his jacket sleeve.

"You were shot?" Your concern had been evident as the question had came to fruition through a concerned shout. He'd smiled in amusement, a gentle shake of head and pained laugh through chest. "When you shoot someone who's aiming a gun, they'll pull the trigger." There was a tightness in his voice as Gojo had pulled his arm through the final layer of clothing, revealing the injury over skin. Geto had already placed a few items over the kitchen table, latex gloves stretched over hands after pushing his sleeves back, inspecting the wound.

"Satoru, tourniquet." With Geto's voice quiet, Gojo disappeared for a brief few moments before re-emerging with a tie in hand, wrapping it over Sukuna's upper arm and pulling it tightly. "You're lucky that Zen'in had started to stumble before he shot, or you would've had Sukuna killed."

"Zen'in?" "He doesn't like the name, goes by Fushiguro. But, he's a Zen'in." Gojo explained while taking a seat at the table. Sukuna had leaved forward, wincing as a needle threaded through the wound. "And, you're lucky there was an exit wound." Geto had added to the statement. "Though, your quick thinking likely saved one of us - so thanks, I guess." It had been obvious that the gratitude had pained him to say, though you'd accepted it anyway.

"Do you think they'll find me soon?" You questioned, picking at the hem of your shirt as Geto finished the stitching. The fact you had little control over the outcome of both you life and your allies lives had irked you, a heaviness residing in your chest. "It's likely they're already narrowing it down - Toji will tell them what he knows if they offer him enough money." "You should just give me over, Sukuna. Get the money." A half joke, an attempt to lighten the mood. Though, when the tired, annoyed eyes had met your own, you'd realized the words had only hurt him more than intended.

"What if you returned home with a husband?" Getou's abrupt inquiry had caught you off guard, but you considered the scenario nonetheless, fighting the urge to question why he'd asked, instead manifesting an educated answer.

"My father would have him killed." You spoke with a sourness, eyes remaining to cling to the floor. His attempts at a solution mirrored thoughts you'd had over the past week, though no fix had been found. The only options you'd had were to remain in hiding, or to accept your future as a Zen'in, benefiting everyone other than yourself.

"What if you married someone they couldn't kill?" His suggestion left you dumbfounded, a muddled flurry of stutters as you'd exhibited your confusion to his ask. "Good luck finding someone powerful and willing to marry me."

A person the Zen'ins couldn't touch would be a rarity within this world. Now your name had been made known to them, your place as a pawn in the Ryomen and the Zen'in's game, there had been an impossible chance of escape. You were raised purely for the benefit of your clan.

"I know someone." Geto's comment pulled you from your thoughts, another bought of self-deprecating laughter and rolling eyes shot toward him. There had been a glimmer of hope within your mind, yet you wouldn't display it to the men before you, instead residing back into refusal to protect your own ego. If you'd taken his words as banter, you would suffer less pain than to cling onto the premise of false-hope.

"Satoru." Geto stated, gesturing to the pale, white haired and blue eyed friend beside him. Gojo's reaction had reflected your own; bewilderment. The brunette glanced between the two of you as you'd remained in mutual silence, awaiting his explanation. "Satoru, think about it." Your eyes met Gojo's briefly before he'd returned his attention to his friend. "You'll be in her position soon - the strongest of you family and heir of Six Eyes; do you think your father will die before you give him a grandson to continue the business?" His theory had weight to it, but you brushed him off, watching Gojo's expression change from confusion to thought. "Geto, come on-" You began, voice gaining his attention.

"I'll do it." Gojo spoke through upturned lips, both gazes returning to settle over his face. "I couldn't turn down the opportunity to mess with affairs that weren't mine to begin with - and fucking with my family is an added bonus." His playful grin paired with the prospect of being legally bound to him had sent heat through your body, mouth ajar while you'd lost yourself within the vision of a wedding day between yourself and Gojo Satoru.

"Gojo, this is serious." You began, narrowing your expression when looking into his own. "This is your future on the line." You took a sharp breath inward. "Not to mention, marrying me would mean having children down the line-" The rant had started, and Gojo had allowed a playful smirk to etch over his features. "I'd be happy to fu-" His interruption was much to your distaste, the unwanted suggestion causing your stomach to churn. "Use your brain for a minute and think about this as an adult!" The sudden outburst caused his eyes to widen before relaxing, mouth still curved upward as he leaned into the back of his chair. "I've already decided, sweetheart. We'll go to the registry office tomorrow - Suguru and Sukuna can be our witnesses."

For a marriage planned with less than a day prior, it had been executed with ease. The four of you had been brought into a small room, a registrar stood to your left as you'd taken Gojo's hands within your own. As he'd held your fingers between his, a cheap ring Sukuna had sourced from a nearby jewelers slid over your finger, you'd swallowed back your anxieties and listened as he'd recited his vows.

You'd repeated the action, his calloused hands maintaining the gentle contact between your own as you had spoken much more timidly than he had. Though you'd done so with some reluctance, you had looked into his eyes as you'd repeated after the registrar, a fluttering in chest. Even if this wasn't real, nor was it love, there was some form of excitement within your fear. Though, you wouldn't tell a soul.

After only ten minutes, you'd left bound by law' a much larger meaning within your families than to yourselves. From this day forward, you were to be labelled as a Gojo. You had expected that crippling weight to ease as you held the wedding certificate in your palm, yet somehow, it had just changed into a new anxiety.

You had gone against your parent's wishes, as had Satoru, and for that, you knew there would be a cost.

reblogs and comments help creators more than just liking <3

a/n: after posting the teaser for this in MARCH, i have finally finished it!! i hope you enjoyed :,) i'm putting tags below, i'm so sorry if you forgot about this and are confused by the notif !!

tags: @ritsatoru @tomiokas-lunchbox @outrofenty @cherryblossiren @thisbicc @obitohno

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allicat0 · 6 days

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hi there! i absolutely loved ur other fan fic even tho i didn’t know the character. made my pussy throb. anywho 😊 just seeing if u are able to write a gojo x reader, perhaps him being older ( older brothers bsf, teacher, etc. ) i also would love to see some discreet public sexy time. ( classroom, movie theatre, pool… i love fucking hot tubs and pools…) thank you so much!😜✌️🎀

Our little secret

Ans: thank you so much for the support, and of course! I’m so excited to write my take on Gojo! Hope you like it!!

Summary: University au! You're working along side your thesis advisor Gojo in hopes to working closer to your ambitions for the future. But being a university student, costs are high and money is low. So to be able to keep up with your school you have a little gig on the side.

Content: MDNI, 18+, abaf reader, smut, forced proximity, dubcon, oral, penetrative sex, domination, degradation, praise, making out, rough sex, oral sex, penetrative sex, teacher/student relations, dominant Gojo, submissive reader

A/N: I apologize if not all of my historical information its 100% correct, I did do a little research for it to make as much sense as I could. I also apologize for any word vomited, grammar, or punctuation errors. I was up till 2am writing. but hope you enjoy!

You had been given the opportunity to have Satoru Gojo, head professor of the History department as your Thesis advisor. It was all still a little unreal to you, but you couldn't be more grateful. You have spent countless hours with one another, early mornings and late nights, doing your best to progress with your latest research proposal. “The Villa of the Papyri” you said, placing your stack of papers down onto Gojos desk. “Now that surely is a pretty big project your-” He began to reply before you quickly cut him off “I understand it’s a lot, and that most of the contents inside got destroyed but there are over two thousand lost scrolls that reside inside that structure. There could be so many answers about the lost city of Herculaneum that those scrolls could contain!” Your look was genuine. . and so full of hope that he just couldn't say no.

As weeks passed, you still had no leads. Weeks turned into, months, and months turned into a year, endlessly working alongside Gojo. Despite your research not flourishing as much as you had hoped, your relationship with your professor grew more than you expected. It didn’t feel like work, it was tolerable to be around eachother, it didn’t feel like he had some weird authority complex over you, you were comfortable, you couldn’t help but admit to yourself some feeling for your professor began to form and you wished nothing would come in between that. .until something did.

Being a university student, especially in the department you're in, funds are high and since you were usually busy researching all day, you had a hard time getting a stable job that worked around your harsh schedule. The school did pay you money to go through with this research but it was barely enough to buy you a loaf of bread and toilet paper. You needed money to survive and things were getting a little tight, so you thought working at your local club didn’t sound like a horrible idea. . as a dancer.

Zafrio, is one of the more popular clubs in the area, but they worked well around your schedule, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays every week. The pay was beautiful, every penny you made on that stage was yours to keep, on top of that you also got your bi-weekly pay which 10% of it went through tip - out to the servers, but you weren’t complaining. On average you made at least four hundred dollars a night, but on good days you would rack up closer to a thousand.

Tonight was your Saturday shift, the busier one out of the three. As you were getting ready backstage a familiar face walked into the club, the club was packed full of people, he made his way through the crowd, brushing past people shoulder to shoulder, getting closer to the main stage. Now he didn’t come here often but when he did, it was every Saturday at eleven, to see you and only you perform. He used having a large crowd to his advantage as he was often hidden, so you seeing him was never a concern of his. How he found out about your little side job was not intentional, he just happened to stumble into the club with some of his friends one night, and there you were working. Gojo was beyond intrigued, so ever since that day he’d been coming to watch you perform, he didn’t know why he came back, but all he knew was that he started thinking of you in ways he’d never dare think of before.

Your stage name gets called and there you are, walking out onto the stage over to the pole, beginning your number for the whole club. Cheers filled your ears, watching the money fall onto the stage, the serotonin that pumped through your body was unbelievable and he watched, every. Last. second. His eyes never leaving you or your body. The way your hips sway to the music, it was like he was in a trance.

As you finish your number your eyes fall out to the crowd, adjusting from the bright stage lights shining up at you. You start to strut off and out the corner of your eye, you see. . no it couldn’t be. What was he doing here?? Your heart rate began to pick up. What was your professor doing here?! You quickly rushed the rest of the off stage. Did he just see you perform? Your mind was rushing at a million miles a second.

You arrived backstage and looked in the mirror, your mind began to spiral and your heart picked up its pace, that was totally him, there was no denying it. “Is everything alright?” one of your fellow dancers came over to see if you were okay as they noticed you were panicking. “Yah. .yah i'm fine” you said to put your clothes on and packed all your belongings. “Something came up and I really need to go, please let the boss know I’m sorry.” You knew all of the money you got from that dance would be taken care of by your boss, and were quick to leave, walking out to your car and heading home.

Monday finally rolled around and you were on your way to Gojos' office to start work. If it were any other day you would be eager to get back to work after a weekend break, but today wasn’t any other day. The events of Saturday night still loomed in the back of your mind, you didn’t want to admit it but you were scared to face Gojo, how were you supposed to just act normal after that night?!

You opened the door to the office and plastered a smile onto your face and there he was sitting at his desk. “Good morning professor.” you said, making your way into the room, closing the door behind you. “Good morning, how was your weekend?” he asked, his eyebrow slightly arching with the question. You felt a lump form in your throat forcing it down before speaking. “Ah, it was quite relaxing,” you said trying to cut the conversation. “I'm surprised, you spend your weekends working do you not?” his head tilted ever so slightly, a smirk forming in the corner of his lips. He knew what he was doing and he knew you saw him that night.

You froze in place for just a moment, “i'm not sure I know what you mean” Gojo looked at you right in your eyes, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on his knees. “I think you and I both know what I mean” your breath hitched, there was no going back, there was no avoiding this. You watched as Gojo sat up from his chair and made his way around his desk. Leaning against this chair and resting his ass against it he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Well. . am I wrong?” This was it, your career was over, there was no way you would be able to recover from something like this, you knew the risks and yet you still took the chance, now look where it got you.

You could feel yourself trying to choke but in the coming years, you were trying your best to keep yourself together. “Now you know there's no reason to lie to me. .” Gojo pushed himself off the desk and made his way towards you, your eyes never leaving him. He walked behind you, leaving your sight, but you could feel him looming over you. “Professor look, moneys been low and.” his hot breath suddenly hit against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” His words were soft.

Your shoulders tensed as he placed his hands on them “Is this okay? Can I touch you here?” Gojo let out softly once more, you simply nodded your head being speechless. His hands began travelling down stopping right at your hips. “You know. .I have a confession of my own. Ever since I found out about your secret endeavours. . I haven’t been able to stop going back. . I can’t stop thinking about you in ways I shouldn’t.” He choked out, Gojo was doing his absolute best to keep himself at bay.

“Really?” you said, sounding surprised, his words were making your stomach flutter. As much as you wanted to deny this as wrong and unprofessional there was a recurring curious thought that wanted to find out more, what exactly was he thinking. “The thought drives me crazy” the hold he had on your hips gets tighter, but you move away from his grip, turning around to face him. His eyes were drawing you in like never before, you couldn’t describe it, but his gaze was full of pure lust.

You bit down on your lips, you were unsure what to do, act professional or. . no what were you thinking! “Darling,” Gojo said, snapping you out of your thoughts. His hands coming up and cupping your face, his thumb trailing softly against your cheek. “Gojo I. .” You stood there speechless. “This is unprofessional.” You try to centre your thoughts “I think we’re long past that.” he said his hand never leaving your cheek. His face leaned down his lips inches from yours “if you want me to stop then tell me, I want you to be okay with this” you looked up at him through your lashes nodding your head ever so slightly. “Please. .don’t stop” you let out quietly just enough for him to hear you.

Next thing you know you felt Gojo’s lips press against yours, lips moulding with one another. His kiss was delicate, but carried so much passion and lust behind every movement. Your mind continued to spiral at every given minute, but you didn’t want to stop, you wanted more. Gojo’s hands travelled down before taking your ass in his hands giving it a squeeze as he continued to kiss you.

His tongue slipped past your lips and moved with yours, but it didn’t last long as he was quick to pull away to catch a breath. His head moved to your neck planting firm kisses against your neck as his hands made their way up your shirt, cupping your breast in the process massaging them as he continued to place his markings down your neck. “You’re fucking gorgeous” his voice was breathy, against your skin.

Gojo guided you over to his desk, turning you around to your back facing him. His hands lingered at the hem of your pants, thinking for a moment before he pulled both your pants and underwear down revealing your slick pussy. Gojo went down onto his knees to get a better view, his hand trailing up and down pushing in between your folds, slowly sticking his middle and ring finger deep into your pussy, causing a moan to escape your lips. “What if someone hears us?” you asked nervously. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of you slowly watching how your pussy swallowed his fingers “let them” he said.

The speed of his fingers began to pick up the pace causing soft moans to escape through the seam of your lips. Gojo pulled his fingers out of you, spreading your legs open enough to lodge his head in between your thighs, dragging his tongue against your pussy. As you lay there leaning over his desk, gasping for breath, Gojo tasted every inch of you, savouring the sweetness of your flesh, he knew exactly where to touch, how to caress, driving you further into the realm of ecstasy. Your hips would involuntarily push back into him as he lapped his tongue over your clit, exploring every curve and crevice, bringing you to the edge of climax. It was almost painful, the anticipation and desire building within you, but you wouldn't trade this exquisite torture for anything else.

As you were nearing release Gojo pulled away standing up, quickly unbuckling his pants to unveil his already hard twitching cock eager to pound into you. He held the base of his cock, dragging the tip in between your wet folds, before slowly pushing himself into you, causing a groan to escape from the back of his throat. His hands grabbing onto your hips, he began to slowly move his hips watching your pussy swallow his cock. “You feel so fucking good” he said as he began to pick up the pace. Your hand moved up to your mouth blocking out the moans leaving your lips, doing your very best to stay quiet enough so others wouldn’t hear your lewd sounds. Gojo’s thrusts became rough, his hand releasing your hip entangling his fingers through your hair tugging on it as he pounded into you. “You’re such a good girl, taking me so well”.

As Gojo continued to thrust deep into you, you felt yourself coming closer to the edge once again, the knot building up in your stomach from him constantly hitting your G-spot. Your free hand moved down in between your legs and moved rapidly against your clit. “ you gonna cum on my cock baby?” He asked you, smirking down at you, how he enjoyed the sight. You let out a moan as your legs do their best to hold themselves up through your orgasm, Gojo was close, you could feel his cock pulsating inside of you. His thrust was becoming sloppy and out of rhythm. With a few more thrusts he quickly pulled out of you, his hot cum hitting against your back “fuck” he said out of breath looking down at the mess he made, but god it was fucking hot.

His body pressed up against your own, planting a soft kiss against your shoulder. Moving the hair away from your neck and planting them slowly against your neck as well, he let out a light groan, the vibration of his hot breath against your skin made you shiver. “Let's get you cleaned up baby” Gojo said, going back to his cocky smug voice once again. “Oh and. .lets keep this our little secret alright?”

@allicat0 signing off. .

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mojogojocasahouse · 7 months

Text

if you dare

Satoru Gojo x f!reader

You head out to haunted houses with Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru against your better judgment. Word Count: 934 Content: mutual crush, fluff

Masterlist

“We’re all going! Just come on.”

“Yeah, don’t be a baby.”

“It’s fine if you don’t want to, you know. We’ll bring you back something.”

Your friends from high school—Shoko, Satoru, and Suguru—are waiting before you in stances that match their urging tones. Shoko, her hands on her hips and lollipop hanging from the corner of her mouth staring at your expectantly, Satoru off to the side with his arms crossed impatiently, gaze averted, and Suguru, a warm smile on his face as you contemplated taking him up on his offer to decline.

“Haunted houses aren’t really my thing—“ you begin in defense, Satoru’s loud groan cutting you off.

“Get in the caaaaaar,” he nags again, opening his long, slender arm out towards his sleek, black sedan waiting by the curb, “I’ll bring you home if it means we can get there before the sun rises.”

“You don’t mean that, do you Satoru?” Suguru asks with a playful yet knowing lilt in his tone.

“Yeah, Satoru,” Shoko adds in a similar cadence, “You wouldn’t want to go without our friend, would you?”

It’s a perturbed grunt that replies, followed by Satoru getting into the driver’s seat to stew, the door slamming as he shoves his knees beneath the steering wheel.

“It’ll be fun,” Suguru reassures once again, “Plus, they have the best sweets.”

“It’ll be worth it,” Shoko tacks on, and with that you find yourself tucked in the back of the car beside Shoko, Satoru and Suguru prattling on about who, besides you, will be the one to scream first on the drive.

With your eyes pinched shut you follow Shoko as Satoru led the way through three of the haunted houses, your heart hammering and tears pricking at your eyes as the jump scares continue. Little did you know, the spooks don’t stop once you enter the open air, and as you breathe a sigh of relief and bring the soda Suguru just purchased for you to your lips, a ghoulish face pops out at your right, causing you to scream and spill the caramel liquid all down your front.

“Oh, you were so scared,” Satoru wheezes through his raucous laughter, Suguru handing you a handful of napkins to try and clean your shirt off with, “You should have seen your face!”

“It’s not funny!” you shriek, throwing your practically empty cup at him all for him to dodge it, “You’re such an asshole.”

“Lighten up. That’s what we’re here for, geez.”

After some serious convincing from Shoko, you find yourself once again standing in a line waiting for yet another traumatizing experience. This time, Suguru led the way, Satoru bringing up the rear. It goes like every other, until a dead silence falls over the space, a flash of light and snarling roar sounding from right beside you as a figure leapt out, forcing you to turn with a blood curdling scream and bury your face into the first person you can reach.

Satoru. You can tell it’s him just from the sweet, arid smell that fills your nostrils. You're pressing against him so tightly your heart is hammering against his torso, your face nestling into the soft material of his hoodie as you try to regulate the pathetic little gasps of air you’re forcing down, your head spinning from sheer lack of oxygen and panic.

“You’re really that scared, huh?” Satoru’s tone is oddly gentle and concerned. “C’mon. Before they leap out at you again.”

Where you expected a little push to your back urging you forward after you’d turned to head back through the terrors that await, instead two large hands gently grip around your hips, his front pressing tightly to your back as you take a step forward as his feet follow your path.

“Close your eyes,” he whispers, his breath on the shell of your ear sending a shiver down your spine, “Let me lead the way.”

“So you can stop me right in front of a monster?” you grumble, but he only laughs in response.

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me. Or find out what’s up there by yourself.”

You feel the cool night air on your face when his soft voice tells you to open your eyes. Shoko and Suguru stood a few feet ahead, trying and failing to look engrossed in a conversation and definitely not staring at you and Satoru, his hands still wrapped around your hips and lips hovering near your ear.

“We’ve got two more!” Shoko called, “C’mon!”

“But I’m hungry!” Satoru whines as he straightens to his full height, “You said we could get some mochi after that one!”

“Fine! But hurry up.”

Satoru had already pinpointed his stand of choice upon arrival, and he excitedly leads the way through the crowd. He can see you slowing down as you pass through the same area as before, and while your eyes dart around in panic, you feel two long fingers toy with the hem of your jacket sleeve and tap against your wrist.

Without a second thought you slide your palm into his, entwining your fingers as his hand completely swallows yours, his skin warm and soft. Bright blue eyes peer back at you from behind his dark sunglasses, the corner of his mouth ticking into a satisfied smirk, and for a moment you consider wrenching away, this has to be a trick, a tease, a prank…

“Stay…” his voice is muffled in the quiet plea as you give in to your intrusive thoughts and tug, his grip tightening for a moment before loosening enough to still give you the option to free yourself from his hold, “Please.”

Request Gojo Drabbles!

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certifiedjaeger · 2 years

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Hey annie ! Congrats on 800 you deserve it !!💖 Your blog is one of the best ones that I'm always happy to see on my dash !!! For the event 123 and Gojo!! Enjoy your day/night!

♡ certifiedjaeger’s 800 event ♡

Character: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Prompt: “Fuck you.” - “When?”

Word Count: 1.5K+

A/N: Thank you so much!!! <3 you're so sweet 🥺 I hope you like this!! Gojo's so annoying I love him and I need him, thank u

Event Masterlist

Insufferable. That was the word to describe him. Yes, that was the only word to describe him.

And yet, here you were, trying to stop the smile that had begun creeping onto your face. Trying desperately to ignore the feelings bubbling up inside of you that suggested you may not entirely mind how annoying the man could be. That you might actually find him to be a bit… endearing. Utter betrayal, you think, feeling the corners of your mouth lift into a small smile. He was insufferable, so why would your body–both heart and smile–betray you like this now?

“You know, I don’t believe you answered my question–”

“No, I’m not in a relationship, Gojo,” you huff, feeling your cheeks warm. “And you know that,” you can’t help the eyeroll that accompanies your harsh tone.

You aren’t stupid. You know exactly what he was trying to do and exactly what kind of game he was playing. That’s Satoru Gojo for you; charming as ever with his handsome smile and carefree ways. Ever since you came to Jujutsu High to teach alongside him, he’s just loved pressing your buttons, every single one of them as he continuously teased and taunted his ‘favorite little teacher’. The way that you’d get all riled up from his antics and the way that your brows would furrow, growing increasingly flustered from his more than amusing ways, well that… that just made him all warm and fuzzy inside. He swears no one’s ever looked so cute while mad; something he often reminds you of, much to your dismay. It usually results in you becoming even more flustered and angry, which then–in his eyes–makes you even more cute, and ultimately, makes that warm feeling in his chest even worse. It was a vicious cycle, he knew; one that he loved being a part of.

You, on the other hand, however, have always claimed that you hated it. Except… you knew that to not exactly be true, didn’t you? Yes, he’s annoying. Yes, he gets under your skin all the time. But you’d be lying if you said you weren’t fond of the platinum-haired giant of a man. You hadn’t exactly planned for all of this to happen, nor were you prepared to act on your feelings. But he was just so damn persistent; always doing his best to get a reaction out of you, to get a smile out of you. You had to admit, it was getting harder and harder to not give in. Even more so now as you stand here–at the joint party being held for both the Tokyo and Kyoto schools–with the world’s strongest sorcerer nearly pinning you against the bartop, staring down at you through crystal blue eyes and hoping more than anything to simply get a rise out of you; maybe even a smile if he’s lucky. And yes, here you were… liking it. Really liking it, if you may add. Not that he needed to know that, of course.

“Well, if you’re not already taken, then there’s got to be something wrong with you,” he claims casually. His expression, you think, would be fairly nonchalant if it weren’t for the small playful smile taunting you. “Someone as good-looking as you being single just doesn’t make sense… So, what is it, then? What’s wrong with you?”

“Leave me alone,” you roll your eyes, trying your best to hide the corners of your mouth lifting into a smile at his compliment wedged between insults.

“You and I both know you don’t want that,” he whispers, leaning in a bit closer to you. You can smell his cologne as he closes a bit of the distance between you two, placing his arm on the bartop behind you as he gazes down at you now with a somewhat more serious expression. Your breath hitches in your throat at the one simple, undeniable fact that… he’s right– You don’t want that. But you also won’t give in so easily to him.

“Fuck off,” you chuckle softly, looking away from his intense gaze as you feel your cheeks warm once again. There being no malice in your voice–no seriousness to your words at all–only seems to encourage him further.

“Hey! Language, miss. I’m honestly disappointed,” he mocks playfully, shaking his head with feigned disappointment. “You know, there are children here,” he teasingly scolds, looking a bit all too pleased with himself as he gestures to the young sorcerers on the other side of the busy, dim-lit room. “Have you always had such a vulgar vocabulary?”

“Fuck you.”

It’s said with a smile, however. A small lighthearted smile that makes his heart beat rapidly in his chest. He must be an idiot in love, he thinks to himself. To have the girl he’s crazy about tell him that, only to then have his heart respond like that… Yeah… He knows he’s definitely in love. And that he’d do anything–anything at all–to be the reason for that smile again; yes, even if it means having to be wounded by your insults in the process. So yes, he’ll continue trying to get a rise out of you–the girl who looks most beautiful when irritated by him–and he’ll do his best to make sure that he leaves a lasting impression on you so that maybe, just maybe, he’ll cross your mind later.

“Okay… when?”

…

“Wh-what?”

“Hey, you’re the one who said it! I’m just trying to manage my schedule, that’s all,” his voice drawls slowly as a small smirk adorns his lips.

“That– That’s not what I meant!” you whisper in a rather loud voice, lightly smacking his arm.

He was always so quick to catch you off guard. And you normally were pretty adept at handling it. However, this time not so much… You could feel the warmth creeping into your cheeks from his words and what they were… alluding to. Not that you hadn’t exactly thought about it before… Because you definitely had and you’d definitely be lying if you claimed otherwise. But again, he did not need to know such things. God, you could only imagine how smug he’d look if he knew…

“Oh, well, good! I also thought that sounded pretty presumptuous of you. So, I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he offers a bright smile, enjoying the incredulous look on your face.

“But you literally just said–”

“Listen, pretty girl. You can’t sleep with me–I don’t give it up that easy–but how about a date first? I’m afraid you can’t have me just yet, but will that satiate that wild hunger of yours?” He’s toying with you; licking his bottom lip with amusement as he enjoys the bewildered sight of you just a bit too much.

You honestly can’t believe him though– The nerve. Nobody that has existed on this planet has ever been more insufferable than Satoru Gojo. You know he’s just messing with you, just wanting to get a rise out of you, and yet, you’re still flustered. You’re still at a loss of words. Lucky for you, however, you notice a familiar raven-haired boy begin to make his way toward the both of you.

“Gojo, you are a menace,” you whisper harshly, trying to keep your voice down so as not to startle the boy walking up.

“Oh, c’mon! Tell me how you really feel,” his crystal eyes twinkle–playful as ever–as the bright smile he offers you falters slightly as Megumi stops before both of you.

“Are you bothering the new teacher again?”

Such a sweet boy, you think to yourself. He had spent so much time with Gojo over the years that he definitely knew how irritating he could be, which is why he had thought you may need saving. As flustered as you were, though, no saving was needed– but you still thought it to be a sweet gesture. What you do love, however, is the feigned look of hurt and shock that adorns Gojo’s face at his student’s accusation. It was cute– To see him riled up like that. It was really cute… Huh, maybe you were beginning to understand why Gojo liked to tease you so much.

“She’s been here four months already, she’s hardly new. Plus, she’s the one pestering me about… certain things. So really it’s her that you should be scolding.”

It seems that it was now your turn to feign a shocked expression. Although, somehow your amused smile seemed to still find a way to shine through.

“You,” you point a finger at his chest. His chest that… was firm and broad… and felt… nice. You swallow a shaky breath trying to stay on track and trying to keep your composure at how attracted you were to him in that moment, but something tells you that he notices. Something about his smile tells you that he definitely notices. “You are a liar.”

“Is that so?” His voice drops to a whisper as he leans in closer; the both of you giving the other a small, sly smile, knowing exactly what you two were doing to each other. “I wasn’t lying about that date, you know… So, how about it, huh?”

“In your dreams,” you whisper back playfully, loving this game of cat and mouse you two were engaging in as the both of you essentially ignore Megumi’s poor attempts at backing out of the conversation.

“Oh, so you do know what I dream about, then?” He leans in even a bit closer, a smug look adorning his face as his alluring cologne hits you once again.

“Should I, uh… go?” The poor boy standing beside you two suddenly looks very awkward as he witnesses… whatever the hell is going on between his teachers. He decides at that moment that coming over here was definitely a poor decision on his end.

You figure it’s time to stop traumatizing the younger sorcerer through the visual of his mentor trying to flirt with his other teacher. No one deserves to see that. After all, you weren’t trying to scar the poor boy for life.

“Don’t worry, I was just leaving,” you turn to the younger boy. “Please smack some sense into this one, will you?” You softly laugh at his nod which silently tells you that he’d be more than happy to do that for you. You turn slightly to the taller gentleman and give Gojo one last smile; a playful expression overtaking your face as you give him a small wink before then excusing yourself.

“Ah, one day,” Gojo sighs, placing an arm around Megumi’s shoulders while the taller sorcerer watches you walk away. “One day she won’t look so annoyed when I speak to her. And one day, maybe I’ll actually put a couple of smiles on that pretty face of hers.”

“She was smiling, idiot,” Megumi says in a deadpanned tone, not having the patience anymore for his dumb, lovestruck teacher.

“She was, wasn’t she?” Gojo can’t help the lovesick look on his face as his mind replays your witty banter and adorable smile in his head. Yes, one day, he swears it… One day he’ll be responsible for many of your smiles.

#satoru gojo #gojo saturo #satoru gojo imagine #satoru gojo oneshot #satoru gojo jjk #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo fic #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo fluff #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #my writing #banannie's 800 event <3

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derangederensimp · 2 years

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But A Dream Part 2: Inspired by the amazing TimikoTaya NSFW Artwork

Jujutsu Kaisen Smut

CW: Teacher/Sensei kink, Fingering, Unprotexted sex, Creampie, Cockwarming and Breeding kink. Some after and fluff at the end. Reader is a colleague

Part One | Part Three

—

“Already ready for a round two y/n Sensei?” He asked, Chuckling at the sight.

Getting you out of the car was a new challenge Gojo had to face as you fell asleep. Deciding bridal style would be the best way to get you in, he hooked one arm underneath your legs and the other arm behind your back as he pulled you out. Walking to the door he opened it easily before stepping inside.

Gojo stared down at you, your eyes now open full of lust and desire. He thought bringing you to his place would allow you to sleep properly and didn’t think twice about there being a round two, not the way you looked like in his office. Fucked out of your mind, drunk on his dick, exhausted from it is what he would explain the look on your face to be. But now your face was the same expression as when he told you he could fix your need to be laid. “Already ready for a round two y/n Sensei?” He asked, chuckling at the sight before him.

All he had time to do was to sit on his living room couch with you settled on his lap. Gojo was just getting started, pulling off his shirt and lifting up yours to expose your breasts to him. Leaning his head down to make contact with your hardened nipple, taking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the piercing. Your quickened breaths made him aware just how much he was already causing pleasure, making his cock twitch in his pants.

His hand snaking down the front of your skirt pulling your panties to the side, the brush of his knuckle slightly on your clit sending shocks of electricity traveling up your spine. Accidentally letting out a soft moan from even the minimal contact, face blushed wanting more. “Please.. Gojo Sensei… m-more” You managed to get out in between breaths. The heat pooling between your legs, his other hand settling on your hip as he began slipping a finger between your lip and rubbing up to the clit.

Circling it with his finger around the raised bud while adding a finger into you, dropping your head back onto his shoulder biting your lip. “You like that?” He asked, turning his head to the side to look at your face. All you could do was nod as he began pumping his finger in and out while still sending shocks of pleasure from rubbing your clit. Your walls squeezing his finger just at the moment when he hooked it “F-fuck, the way you squeeze me and it’s only my finger” He groaned, wishing his dick was in place instead. Switching to his thumb on your clit he continued to finger your tight cunt, thighs starting to shake as the pressure in your stomach kept building. “M-more, Shit Please give me more” you moaned out. “Pretty Girl, your already losing it on one, can you handle two?” he cooed into your ear. Hitting your G spot with his finger your body tightened around him cumming on his hand.

You watched him bring his finger to his lips and lapping up your fluid with his tongue “tastes so good” Gojo said, a smirk growing on his face. Taking a breast into his hand and giving it a squeeze, letting you take a breather before he plunged into your pussy again this time with two fingers. The gasp you let out turned him on so much, determined to make you cum as many times as he could tonight.

Grabbing a fistful of his white hair as the sudden contact made your back arch. His fingers pumping in and out of you “T-too much, slow down” you said, biting down on your lip to hold in the loud moan you would've let out. “Com’on Pretty Girl, you can handle two..” he teased. He loved the way you pulled on his hair each time he slipped his fingers out and shoving them back in or when he hit the perfect spot. The way your body reacted to his touch drove him insane and he’d be damned if someone else got to experience this.

“Whose pussy is this?” Gojo asked, staring into your glossed over eyes. Keeping his fingers outside of you, waiting for a response before he continued. Your body attempting to squeeze onto anything but being empty “Yours Gojo Sensei” you answered whiningly, gripping his hair slightly harder. “only mine?” he quizzed, tracing the outline of your entrance. “Y-yes” you panted out, his fingers instantly filling you, a slew of curses leaving your mouth. With his other hand he unzipped his pants before slipping them down his thighs, freeing himself and stroking it.

“Your pussy is perfect, it’s like you were made for me” Gojo groaned out, grabbing your hips with both hands to pull you onto his lap. Straddling him backwards he leaned your body slightly forward before lining his cock up with your entrance before pulling your hips down onto him with a slame.

Curses leaving both of your mouths as he controlled the pace, moving your hips up and down till you got the hang of doing it yourself, holding onto his thighs digging your nails into them slightly, Gojo moaning from the light sting. The position allowing you to move your body at whatever pace you felt like which ended up being a quickened one, with hard thrusts. Gojo’s hands grabbing on your ass lazily guiding your movements, head thrown back in ecstasy each time your walls squeezed him.

“So eager to get me to cum hmm? You want it that badly y/n? If that’s what you want I’ll give it to you” Gojo grunted, pulling your body back onto his as, holding your legs apart fucking into you from below. The lewd sounds from your bodies and mouths filling his apartment, a noise complaint for sure would come in the morning though he didn’t care. He wanted you to scream on his dick but also didn’t want to go too rough on your body. He wasn’t even sure how you had a round two in you after what was done in the office but he wasn’t going to complain.

He felt your legs begin to shake, taking it as a sign to continue his speed and hardness of each thrust. The knot only tightening in your stomach as his cock met every spot perfectly, admittedly he filled you up perfectly and fucked you better than any one time hook ups you’ve ever had. If you were to tell him this his ego would for sure grow 10x.

His fingers now digging into your hips breaking you from thought with his position changing slightly as he arched his back to go in deeper. One hand leaving your hips to travel down your body stopping at your clit, he focused on rubbing it just the way you liked it the first time, pounding into your cunt while doing so for added stimulation. Your body reacting to it while a tight squeeze around his cock, he could tell you were getting close with how bad your thighs were shaking along with your heavy breaths.

“Cum with me Pretty Girl” he cooed into your ear, biting the lobe softly. Grabbing your legs again with his arms and forcing your body down onto him as he slammed into you at the same time, the pace only quicken. Each thrust a loud grunt from him and a moan from you filling the air.

The pressure in your stomach bursting, squirting all over his dick. Cum filling you once again, the warm feeling causing you to feel butterflies in your stomach. Gojo’s chest heaving up and down as his held you against his body. He didn’t want you to move one bit, he enjoyed the pluses from your body still being inside. Your body still trying to milk him more than it already got. “Just sit like this for a bit, we wouldn’t want this round to go to waste now would we? Carrying my baby doesn’t sound half bad does it?” He cooed into your ear, stroking at your hair removing it from your face and tucking behind your ear before kissing your lips softly and holding your chin in place with his thumb.

A few minutes passing while you stayed in his arms, cock still inside. You could feel the soft twitches it would randomly have. “Alright, let’s go get you cleaned up” Gojo said, bringing you to your feet and ushering you to the bathroom. Turning on the shower to a temp you preferred before stepping inside, before he got in the grabbed towels and set them onto the counter. Getting in behind you he held your hips so you would fall over, still wobbly from the first round and now your legs really felt like jello.

He rubbed a loofah with body soap across your body starting at your breasts, then arms, stomach, and legs. His blue eyes piercing you each time he looked up at you, sending shivers down your spine. Once you were all cleaned up he shut the water off and wrapped a towel around your body before leading you to his bedroom. It looked cozy, silk sheeted bed with a bunch of pillows, yawning as he handed you a pair of shorts and a baggy t-shirt to slip into. Once you were both dressed he stretched out his arms in the air yawning, getting into bed and patting the spot next to him.

“I wanna cuddle y/n” Gojo said, grin on his face as he watched you crawl onto his bed and nuzzle up next to him. Wrapping his arms around you, holding you close to his bare chest you couldn’t help but smile. “That was amazing… you’re amazing” you said, smiling against him. “You too, my pretty girl” He mumbled, his eyes fluttering open and shut as he tried to fight off the urge to sleep. He would definitely need rest for what was in store later…

—

Other One shots | Masterlist everything else

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weeabooofficial · 1 year

Text

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

Masterlist

Ryomen Sukuna

A Proper Way to Mount the Throne [18+]

Satoru Gojo

Coming Soon

Suguru Geto

Crave [18+]

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 2 years

Text

7th Dimension (Chapter 7.4)

PREVIOUSLY ON CHAPTER 7.3

7TH DIMENSION MASTERLIST

7TH DIMENSION WATTPAD LINK (I’m always 1-2 chapters ahead in this site) (Head on to it and don’t be shy to introduce yourselves or leave a comment! <3 Love y'all! <3) (I’m about to post chapter 8.3 there by now. I just realize how far ahead I am in Wattpad now. I'M SORRY! Readers have just been more interactive there rather than in Tumblr. Heehee.)

Characters: Gojo Satoru x Small!Naive!Fem!Foreign!Reader | THIS IS A MULTI-CHAPTER FIC. THIS IS AN X READER FANFIC WHO HAS BEEN BROUGHT TO THE DIMENSION OF JUJUTSU KAISEN | (Trust me, you'll live. I hope?)

Summary: (Part 5) Mind Training with Gojo Satoru had been beneficial to the both of you. You were given a mission to bake him sweets and in return of earning a 10/10 rating from the Great Teacher Gojo would result for a Shopping Spree treat from the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer alive.| Additional Summary for this chapter: You've learned and collected discoveries that weren't meant to be divulged from Satoru Gojo. Only those who were special would get to notice and experience these so-called-discoveries about him. Hence, it was worthwhile and also meant to be credited and taken into mind for future purposes. Yet as a compensation for that, destiny has given the accursed karma upon buying intimate apparels with the only nuisance that always brings out the worst in you.

Warnings: Fergie is mentioned here. 🤣 This has been a mess of a chapter? This ain't canon, guys...But, I've had to choose something that Satoru wouldn't like just for the sake of this story. (Other than his canon dislike for 'alcohol') I chose Shiitake Mushrooms/Mushrooms because I wanted it to be the common ones that everybody eats but it's the opposite for him. Again, not canon. Just something to spice up his character in this book. Satoru's also being quite flirtatious every once in a while. Heehee. Google Translate is mentioned. Granny-Pannies too. (Y'all know why on the end of this chapter. 🤣)

VOTES AND COMMENTS ARE SUPER-DUPER HIGHLY APPRECIATED! IT GIVES ME SO MUCH MOTIVATION! SORRY IF THERE ARE LOTS OF TYPOS AND GRAMMAR ERRORS IN THIS CHAPTER! I ain't a professional writer! I'm just a potato-hoe! LMAO. 🤣

Words: 5.8k+

Disclaimer: PNG's or pictures used in edits, also those posted are not mine especially the GIF's. (I dunno how to make GIF's 😭) I only own the plot of 7th Dimension. But, not Jujutsu Kaisen's storyline and the characters themselves. I apologize for the typos or grammatical errors by the way! English isn't my first language so I'm so sorry in advance! Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be for the sake of the story.

"I---I'll come back here with Nobara instead."

"You're already here. Why not buy them now?"

SATORU cloaked on a false display of innocence along the lines of his logical statement. His mischievous grins bottled up with a faint bite to his lip to provide more of his feigned impeccability in spite of the disenthralled purpose hidden under Aladdin's flying carpet. Positively seeing through the intentions that he was implying for. A homespun philosophy; a whip-smart piece of advice from the strongest himself like it was utter Brain Blast from Jimmy Neutron.

Your walking red flag benefactor had his face tucked away with the impish inflection of his voice. Pitch resonating a higher like a question asked by a preschooler who kept raising his hand to his teacher and chose to just say it out loud regardless that you both know it was beyond a gullible query from the latter.

Leastways, the backdrop have been less ribald and unseemly prior to the day that you were brought over a decent---well, over the top kind of shame on that very special moment where your supposed to be Pastry Shop or Dessert Store had evolved into an erotic one where Dildos are being sold to people. It has been your unfortunate heyday that was meant to be criticized by two---one matured but thoroughly hushed ex-salary man and the other can be described as an unmellowed one in regards to the brassy reactions you've received from the guy who happened to be the only one; the exclusive person whom you had no escape from.

You've chosen to act oblivious about it, pretended that it wasn't necessary. There has already been a construction of plans ahead. It's either you were going to borrow money from anyone---aside from Satoru who obviously won't shut his mouth over what you planned to buy. Worst case scenario was that he would actually be an angel---the actual devilish menace to accompany you instead. It was either that or you're begging for alms anywhere out in Japan and end up being in jail instead.

However, fate decided that the worst case scenario was much of a better option. It wasn't entirely the best. Yet, providence made it seem like it was a choice that needed to be handpicked.

Therefore, destiny let you held onto the hot potato. Culminating over the outcome of you and Satoru standing before an intimate apparel store with iron-willed standpoints of the complete antithetical notions.

He has been the hell yes, do it and you were clearly the oh, hell no.

There has been lots of discoveries that was to befounded from Gojo Satoru in your experience through out the current engagement you were having with him. This abrupt Shopping Spree treat he'd spontaneously conducted which held a lot of rude awakening---sarcastically speaking, he actually roused you up utterly barbarously by setting an alarm up on full volume at such a cranky hour in the morning---but, other than that literal verbatim, he had you all agog for what kind of multiplex personality he had.

You've had a lot of aha moments with him. Most that has been mentally kept and treasured for utter blackmail purposes which can be used in the future. This man; the one who held an utmost consuming and extraordinary classification in their society, the Jujutsu World that you somehow couldn't comprehend because nobody wanted to be in detailed of when it came to elucidating the subject at hand.

In other words, every one in Tokyo Jujutsu High did not want to talk to you through a language that would get them stumbling over and over again.

But, you were beginning to have an inkling that their work was confidential---entirely should be discreet to the eyes of normal people and they were still dithering over your existence.

Unless, Satoru made it clear that he should be the sole person to explain through it all. Although, he hardly explains anything that can discerned by you as of the moment. He seemed to take everything casual and vague as he could and it was not helping your mind especially when you were one who was considered to have brain-freakin'-damaged.

There had been at least two to three discoveries you've taken to mind today about Gojo Satoru.

One, he had a habit of staring.

This type of staring could be appraised as an outstare. The variety where you were presumed to be under his daunting company because of the cogency of his eyes. Aberrant than the typical or usual to be seen by anyone who were currently breathing in the same air with you right now because in all possibility, you've looked from left to right; seen people never having them even on his world and thought everything through when you were still back in your dimension.

Nobody in the world---even the ones considered to be downright gorgeous and perfect had the eyes of Gojo Satoru.

He appeared to be the sole one who inherited it from whatever bloodline he came from.

Thus, Gojo manifested that he was shameless to poke fun over your patent restiveness. Those tiny stammers that leave your lips quivering and the constant swallowing of your frets. It was giving him the vim that made him chortle whenever he was insistent upon looking fixedly on you; never knowing if he was gazing vacantly in which you had not caught---he'll be damned on that certain minute if you actually had calmed down from the sporadic turmoil he casted upon because the strongest had this quirky sense of distraction---and actually asked him a question or retaliated to complain over being outstared by him.

He probably needed to wear his blindfolds back after the treat he had with you.

Though, the first discovery never did sound like a protection racket of some sort. It has only been a breakthrough for Satoru's characteristic gestures.

Blackmail number two was that he had found Mushrooms downright disgusting.

Satoru loathed it. How have you noticed? Well, he made it obvious by feeding the damned vegetable in your mouth despite of not wanting to.

Forced them inside your mouth, to be precise.

You've finally calmed down to your heart's content and constant flutters once food has been served by a waitress. Satoru has been continuously talkative from the start that his food were situated before him, an endearing chime of delight escaped his mouth to his heedless reaction, guessing that he paid no attention to it. His face corroding into an epitome of a cherub as it rejuvenated him. The mental picture has made you ask God in vain how one man could ever exist; how he could look winsome enough for a person to intentionally slip on a banana peel in attempts that he'll notice them, till he had the potential of being utmost dear for such a simple dining occurrence.

To be honest, the viewpoint had given you an aching warmth to your heart. Spreading through you like a damned alcohol that began pumping down your system as if you were bound to feel lightheaded and joyous.

Asking the heavens how it happened and how he was created were of no use because you've accumulated no answer to it.

Satoru had been loquacious even in the middle of devouring his noodles. Thoroughly not caring if he was talking with his mouth full that it made him sound incomprehensible at times. Though, whenever he does, it was only in a portion of having the food kept on the other side of his tumefied cheek. His topics were always arbitrary. The strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer had never slipped any amount of information over how they do their work---nor how he does it. He was having the earmarks as if he was a normal teacher whom was in the middle of chatting down about Yuji's outstanding meatballs that you surely should get to taste soon.

His lower lip jutted out in a stifled pout, ceasing to finish his own sentence as you munched your own plate away. You've given him the side-eye, wondering why he surprisingly zipped his mouth and regarded his expression. Satoru felt you were rubbernecking and lifted a Shiitake mushroom with his own chopsticks, swiftly lifting them to your mouth with a blink behind his sunglasses.

"What?" you've given him a benignant blink of an eye, mentally criticizing if he grew three heads in which Satoru immediately knew and felt.

He'd raised his chopsticks further, assertive as he was. The vegetable grazing, rubbing lightly upon your lip which made your heart skip a beat from the unnecessary mental image as you slightly pushed your head back. You've critically analyzed his intentions with furrowed brows, taking you by surprise for the need to be catered for in his presence. Not to mention that those chopsticks he was using had already been in his mouth already.

"Want a mushy?"

A mushy? Gojo was cocking his head to the side, inspecting the edible fungi as he held it out for you. He was persistent and unrelenting, appearing as if he knew you had no other choice but to accept his wishes.

You've squinted your eyes back at him, reading through the signs over what he really wanted. He had his lips pursed, momentarily taking glimpses of that meat you've deliberately nested on the side of your bowl, the meat swimming peacefully inside the bowl of noodle soup you planned on not finishing all. Saving the best for last; the meats to be specific.

Oh. He wanted an exchange then. How unfair could he be.

It must be that reason or he was subtly telling you that he disrelished the fungus.

"I'm not eating that. You've been eyeing my meats. You just want an exchange. It isn't a fair trade though."

Gojo was still assiduous than ever and tried to coax you through your obdurate cynicism, "It's to make you stronger, healthier." you've sighed and shook your head, determined to not give in to his wishes because of his own dislikes over an digestible mushroom that was stereotypically edible for everyone.

A grimace was etched upon your features, dwelling on his own beliefs. You've scientifically given it a school of thought, knowing damn well that mushrooms are a source of fiber, protein and antioxidants. The fungus being good for boosting heart health and not the brain. Somehow, it probably did.

"Why? As far as I remembered, mushrooms don't help in healing the brain. I mean---perhaps, it does improve brain function somehow---But---Why though? I have my own. Go eat yours."

"Because," Satoru started, the next words a melodious chant. His pitch turning higher as if it was satirizing. It didn't help that he was smiling broadly as he did so, "---You're weak."

"Pfft. That sounded funny." you've choked on your own saliva and abruptly snorted before even realizing why you did. It resonated inside your head like an echo being hollered inside a bat cave in that empty abyss kept within the depths of your amnesia. Unaware of your native tongue being spoken out in the open, thinking out loud, "---And also familiar somehow."

It's like you've already heard it from him somehow. But, you believed that there hasn't been a case yet and this was the first time you've encountered the phrase from him. Perhaps, the expected pertinence sense of attributes held within the quotation as said by Satoru was made to be felt familiar because the man was indeed arrogant as ever.

Now, Gojo had the expressive grimace you've notched when you were being fed by his mushrooms. The tiny scowl apparent and expressive enough to tell that he abhorred the language he restrictively advised you not to speak of whenever he was around. He'd mentally criticized how you were constantly thumbing your nose over the idea of his outstanding power he held. Yet, Satoru understood why you were acting and seeing him that way. It was because he actually had never showed off the aptness of what he was made of.

He actually had never gotten the chance to extensively swaggered around yet.

The side he was actually showing had been the normal one; the part where he was considered to be...the middle of the road, not counting the Mike Wazowski incident back in Hatagaya. You'd underwent going through kid's stuff with Satoru and his students. Thoroughly trouble free. In due time, Satoru probably needed to show off more soon to wipe that naivety of yours away.

Those laughter he was hearing though, the latter wasn't certain whether or not he wanted to wipe them off you as well. Your fits had been entirely a dulcet tone for the ears like a fresh lollipop being unwrapped for him to appreciate. Satoru slightly lifted himself off his chair, heedful upon which bag of newly bought clothes had been sitting beside you, "I'm stowing away that dress we bought. The one you've been eyeing but had been cheap not to whisk it away at all until I actually had to,"

You've ceased him to it before he could, raising a hand to guard the paper bags that were nestled safely beside you. Knowing that he was damn capable of throwing them away if he wanted and you've ceased him to it with your hand, "You're calling me cheap?"

Satoru gave a firm nod, utterly not skeptical over his rude opinion over you. His grin was wide enough for a Cheshire Cat to cower away from.

"F-Find another person who's telling you your sketches then!" Your voice lacked of conviction, the little stammer catching you off-guard that he had approved of the opinion so casually and phlegmatically like it was the truth. To all intents and purposes, it probably was. A wry face crawled upon the nerves of your expressions, disbelief utmost screaming from his frank agreement towards his critical assumptions.

He plonked back on his seat, those grins turning into a bright toothy smile, the image he portrayed that he recognizes where you were always left shunning your gaze away like it always bothered you. The Jujutsu Sorcerer lifted the mushroom back to your lip with malice aforethought of having the edible fungus and his own chopsticks gently poke through your lips, pushy as he always did.

You were starting to grow annoyed over his troublesome nuisance. Couldn't he just take the word 'no'? and accepted that you didn't want an exchange? "Satoru, I told you---NO."

"Satoru, YES. Now, say ah~" he went on upon prodding your lip with the mushroom, bumptious to have his own bowl of food empty that he would hand over his own eatables to your own surfeit.

It was as if a bright light bulb popped above your head, lighting in a way that tells you how witty you were upon his constant persuasion. The theories pooling inside your head as it held your own strong-willed beliefs over his peculiar wheedling. Your mouth forming an unusual grin that has been thoroughly newfangled for Satoru to take the image to because you were never one to grin back at him as if you were a wicked, Lilliputian Digimon kept in his stacks of collection that he has.

"Ah, I get it now. Is the strongest just scared of his own mushies?!"

The way his mouth upturned on the corners of his lip, his eye-crinkles minimally falling if a person wasn't entirely habituated over his reactions. If you haven't been noting the tiniest habits that were difficult to comprehend from the complexity of his characteristics---if you actually haven't squinted further into knowing how he was capable of being peeved despite of how he covered the exasperations of being oddly wise to quickly caught up to Gojo Satoru's attitude.

Then, you wouldn't have been heedful that you were right. The strongest abhorred his own Shiitake mushrooms.

He'd taken the get-go, Satoru briskly took over being caught red-handed by a damned, weak, non-sorcerer and took your taunts to his own hands. Literally and figuratively. The attractive white-haired sorcerer was insanely fast enough to stuff down that confidence you had over realizing the confidential discovery. His robust, calloused fingers that engulfed your face in full length held onto your jaw, leniently but emphatically prying them open into a widened squeeze that instantly surprised you again, taking you aback and making you freeze along your seat. Your lips were being compressed like you were a child he was having a difficult time on feeding her medicines.

Did he literally shoved the food inside your mouth?

Yes. Yes, he did.

The strength he'd forced upon you hadn't even been one where you would've felt pain. Yet, it was enough to pry your mouth open and shut down that aplomb in which Satoru was highly aware of.

"S-Shatoru!" you've incoherently exclaimed through your flabbergast. Utmost incredulous to believe he would do that to you.

Well, it was not like he had already done it back in the plane. Did he also have a habit of shoving every damned edible food into your mouth without a warning?

A taunting grin resurfaced upon his face when your cheeks were tumefied over the mushrooms he forced you to eat, eyeing you over his sunglasses to get a better representation of his sudden impulsive actions.

Thus, the last discovery you've remarked was that he was great at veiling his act of feigned innocence through his simple coquettish gestures which leaves you distracted.

Or the guy was just an all-out sultry man that you've interpreted his gestures that was to be considered amorous; or it could also be that he knew damn well that you could turn into total putty right on the midst of his large palm in which Satoru planned to frolic on.

"Your turn to feed me then." Satoru brought back his chopsticks over his lip, gradually and languidly tapping them over his own supple vermillion like he wanted and urged you to concentrate on the idea that those chopsticks---the one he has fed you with---had been inside your mouth and his at the same time, "---An eye for an eye, Tiny-Chan~!" he went on with his goading, slightly leaning on his side of the table with both of his elbows, intentionally grazing the tip of his chopsticks in a coy behavior that got you begrudgingly chewing on the mushroom you've been forced to take, bordering on choking upon his unbidden actions.

"T-THAT'S JUST CRUEL! THAT WASN'T EVEN A FAIR EXCHANGE!"

The outcome to all of that was the result of his own logical hypothesis or beliefs that in some way, this mental hierarchy of needs he mentally drawn inside his head for you subjected to the notion---a practical logic for everyone---that you eventually would need your intimate apparels.

It was the first guess. Second would be that he was making fun of the embarrassment that would eventually take over once he came in with you and third would be that he was debauched to know your tastes upon choosing which intimate apparels you were a penchant of.

The three options can be a mixture of everything with Satoru's analytics.

"It's because you're here!" you've whisper-yelled in a grouse. Having qualms that he was shameless to accompany you through an apparel store that were filled with women and couples who were buying lingerie with their boyfriends for a night fueled for joy and intimacy.

"---and? What's the problem with that?" he raised a brow, catching your attention to it for a while because of how you weren't still habituated over the reality that he had albino eyelashes and eyebrows as well.

"We're all adults here. You're an adult. I'm an adult---" his blabbers were immediately cut off by a deadpan.

"You sure about that, Satoru?"

Satoru inserted his hands inside his pockets, peering down at you, cocking his head to the side while keeping his line of vision on you alone, sounding nonchalant as he casually informed, "Well, it's not like Nobara's paying you for these. Also, she won't understand you nor does she seem to like you."

"They use Google Translate now. I can understand them and vice versa." You've crossed your arms against your chest, raising a brow at the information said as if you've answered all the problems that the earth needed, gloating over the recommendation constructed and generated by your own intellect.

This has been your witty idea after all.

It was a simple walk through in the middle of Tokyo Jujutsu High, hopping along the flourished wood with satisfying, perceptive thumps. You were trying to find where the kitchen had been when you've somehow stumbled upon Megumi Fushiguro. Though, the juvenile tried his best to clandestinely avoid any verbal communication or discussion with you without Gojo on your side, knowing that he would suffer through an amount of cerebral processing just to know what you actually meant.

The Shikigami user pondered for a while as you were meters away, reckoning why you were alone and wandering around the institute.

Howbeit, that momentary ceasing in between his tracks, his face was still stoic and bland to know what he thought of. Fushiguro had to quickly look away when you've had him caught like a deer in headlights, immediately giving him a friendly smile. It was a fated chance of a encounter he knew he needed to tolerate as he tried to turn away to take his leave, trying to shun away from the need of being in a verbal conversation with you.

It was a wonder why the student was up and early at five in the morning. Nevertheless, you were lucky to see him and hollered for his name out loud that made him grumble beneath his breath, asking the heavens why it was always him being caught in conversations he obviously didn't want to be caught up in.

You were both caught in an uncomfortable silence. Megumi was silently staring down at you as he waited for what you wanted to ask of him, anxious for how he would respond until you've non-verbally gestured for Megumi's phone with a simple imaginary tap to your palm as if you were mentally picturing a phone in hand.

Fushiguro had given you a once over, trying to comprehend what you needed and understood the idea, wholly giving his phone to you without even being anxious that you would sneak in through his messages or somewhat. Though, you've given his phone back and eventually let him lead onto tapping where Google was. You've known it existed in their dimension after Satoru had explained what amnesia was to you through Wikipedia back at the restaurant before you were even caught in your own stupidity through the abandoned street curse back in Hatagaya.

You've plainly stated the word 'Google Translate' to Megumi in which the first-year student nodded at that.

Now, he could understand you through the application whenever the both of you wanted to conversate. Though, it probably wasn't the best translator but it was somehow useful. It took quite the time and comfort to adjust over the idea between the both of you.

"But, would they pay for it, though? They're my students. Again, students." Satoru continued to cajole his way out of his feigned empathy, knowing that the menace also had other schemes inside his head which was why he was adamant over being the person whom you should buy intimate apparels with, "Would you make my students---may I emphasize---" he gave a dramatic pause, leaning his weight to the side as he brought the idea to the fore, "---My precious students treat you for---"

You've protested at the top of your lungs, your fists clenched to the sides as you firmly shook your head in disapproval, knowing he'd be an utter headache once you entered the establishment with him instead, "I'M NOT BUYING MY UNDERWEARS WITH YOU!"

Satoru's tonality was light and acted as if he was claiming that he had clean hands over the issue you were giving so much malice through, "It's not like you'll be buying the granny underwear anyways," he shrugged his broad shoulders, quite blasé about the situation.

You've felt the heat spreading like wild fire across your face that quickly went through the nape of your neck as you mindlessly retaliated with a tight scowl to your lip, trying to offer a sarcastic jest but also not as well. It wasn't like you've never worn them when you were having menstruations every month.

"Now, you're being deprecating, Satoru."

Satoru blinked to himself, his mouth upturned from the consternation. Surprised that women your age actually did wore them from time to time. What an eye-opener indeed. His query sounded like he was convinced over the half meant joke.

"Wait, you actually would?!"

His face were inches away from you. Eyes analyzing if you were joking or not. The audible hum of interest and judgements making you anxious and humiliated that he took it seriously. Though, it was just all in the spirit of his nosiness.

Satoru abruptly bent his towering height to your level, cocking his head to the side as he was single-minded over tormenting you with that obstinate curiosity of his. His gaze were screaming over how hell-bent he was that he never believed the satirizing tone that had been shaky from the start. An intonation in between the actuality of it being a joke and also not at the same time.

He was outstaring again. Yet, this time, it was entirely a mixture of skittishness and his wayward credence over your weird and comical preferences.

Satoru gradually leaned in closer, his face dangerously close enough and obviously having the keen over how you were avoiding the intensity of those Ethers he owned, "C-Cant you take a hint that I was telling you a joke?"

He blinked behind his abnormally, jet black sunglasses, pursing his lips as he pretended to dwell. Finding joy over the embarrassment you were feeling.

"It's not a joke, isn't it?" Satoru stressed on, reigning the guilt-free act over catching you off-guard for the abrupt turn of events.

Every woman does it. Your mother did; your female friends did as well. Every member of the fair sex owns at least one of them. There wasn't anything wrong with it.

Though, it wasn't meant for Gojo to know as well. He was a man after all. It wasn't necessary for him to understand. The man doesn't even experience the whole menstruation thing so you might as well make him think that it was a joke.

"IT IS! I-I was kidding! W-What makes you think I wasn't joking?!" you've stammered, quickly peering up at him when he brought back his shoulders, standing tall before you and snapping his thick fingers with a subtle point to the store's entrance. A determined beam lifting the ends of his lips in a unadulterated smile.

"Come on then. The Great Gojo's here to buy you your granny-pannies, Tiny-Chan!"

Without further ado, he'd openly took your small hands with his, striking an unforeseen bolt to your heart as he did so. His palms engulfing yours again in a warm, cozy embrace. It felt undeniably summery and this warmth you've felt that started from beneath your chest spread straight to your face and ears at the realization of what he was offering and suggesting on.

What Satoru wants. He gets. You damn knew that from the moment you were forcibly fed by his mushrooms; his iron-willed opinions over choosing the better and expensive stores instead with the additional persistence and annoyance he was having over your timidity by the prices he found cheap.

He always had the final say through it all. Hence, your augustness were being put to torture whenever he was around, exploring matters and events that you had never experienced or come across to in terms of being accompanied by the opposite sex.

"I wouldn't want to miss the sight of you choosing which granny-pannies is best anyway!"

He was teasingly whistling to himself, easy-peasy dragging you towards the intimate apparel shop along his large strides as you tried to pull him back. But, much to the embarrassment he was bringing you in---the trembles of your knees for how your senses heightened towards his large hand that felt so comfortable with yours---no matter how you tried to pull back with all your weight and tried to intentionally made yourself heavier. The white-haired sorcerer paid no heed to it as if it was as easy as ABC.

It wasn't helping that people who passed by began giving you both looks over how hilarious you appeared to be, in some way he had you squatting the floors just for you to intentionally put more weight to his yanking. However, this was still a facile action for the Jujutsu Sorcerer as you had no idea over his attested strength.

Dragging you around to where he wanted was simply a piece of piss.

"GOJOOOO! PEOPLE ARE LOOKING---! CAN'T---CAN'T YOU JUST WAIT OUTSIDE?! I'M A BIG GIRL NOW---! LISTEN---LISTEN! HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF FERGIE'S SONG 'BIG GIRLS DON'T CRY?' SHE STATED THAT THE PATH THAT I'M WALKING, I MUST GO ALONE---! WHICH MEANS I'M GOING ALONE INSIDE!"

He went on with his harmless torments. Playfully whistling louder to himself. A hand hidden inside the pocket of his pants, never once budging through your obstinate resistance over trying to break free from his hold as he'd ignored your random reference that he had comprehended, knowing full well who 'Fergie' was and that she also bizarrely exists in his dimension.

It was in all respects weird to analyze that there were parts that existed and there was parts that didn't exist in your dimension and his.

Gojo chuckle had been easy on the ears, the succeeding response poking fun over your unsystematic references and quotes that were of reflex by the slips of your tongue whenever you were on the verge of being anxious or with one's stomach in knots. "You take baby steps, Tiny Chan. You're not full grown. Which means that you need to be accompanied by a handsome adult like me." the gigantic, lanky, white-haired Jujutsu Sorcerer supported your reference with the same context that you had tried to cajole him in. Yet, this has hit you on the face with a brick because his comeback consisted of sarcastic mocks over your height.

Your eyes widened at that, trying to push and bop his hand off yours in repeat as you exclaimed and held such ire for the realization that you were loudly announcing your subconscious thoughts out in the open, "WHAT? JENNIFER LAWRENCE AND FERGIE EXISTS BUT NOT ME?" you've huffed out loud, struggling against Satoru's hold, "---REALLY?!"

"Gojo, huh?" Satoru snickered, "Haven't I told you that I don't like hearing it from you?" he sing-songed and whistled with a loud cackle, heedless of the toothy grin he was honing on, "---Also, It's Satoru, I say. Sa-to-ru. Understand?" he emphasized with each vowel, gamesomely stressing on the diphthongs while subtly giving you the side-eye and seeing the mischievous flicker it held once he did before he continue to pull you over the entrance.

"I-I TOLD YOU, IT WAS A JOKE! CAN'T YOU TAKE A DAMN JOKE?! STOP PULLING ME!"

It was a sudden slip of your tongue due to his intentional torments. Your mouth running in the desperate pleading for the embarrassment that was bound to be felt once you were within the perimeters of the store.

You were steps away along the entrance of the store. Satoru took a dramatic pause, halting in the middle of the transparent glass door as if he remembered something. You've struggled to escape through his lenient but tight hold, rolling those wrists of yours in an attempt to be free but no great outcome came to it as this was---the strongest jujutsu sorcerer you were trying to break-free from.

Hence, it was impossible--- a far fetched image especially when you were going on the lam. An impractical choice to be touched or held by Gojo Satoru from the start.

He'd slightly turned his heels. Your shame taking over your body to ever notice that Satoru had taken a glimpse of his own hand that connected with yours. A brief, vacant gaze that pooled along his heavenly eyes before he was quick upon catching his own peculiar diversion standpoints.

The latter leaned his head to the side, mantling his own perceptions that were currently unknown to you and especially to everyone in the world. He'd veiled it with a firm, melodious click of his tongue that followed through a mischievous shake of his head. The both of you mentally remembering the aftermath when you've expressed yourself in your vernacular, your face being the one in utter tortures to Gojo's unconstrained preference to pinch on your cheeks.

He just mushed them up till they were irritated and inflamed, earning lots of stank eyes from your side and a lot of bleats over how desensitized he made them be with thorough twines of 'You're gonna pay for this' and the pinching idiot understood them literally by deliberately responding and be smug that he was bank on upon paying for everything today anyways, so what was there to be said?

"You're really pigheaded to listen. Tsk. Tsk. Such a stubborn, stubborn, girl!"

I told you, guys. This chapter was bound to have a lot of parts because I planned to tell what happened to them in this entire shopping spree treat with Gojo. FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED! EEEEEEEE~ <3 To the ghost readers out there, don't be shy to comment hi! Heehee. <3 I don't bite! <3

15 notes · View notes

missmeinyourbones · 7 months

Note

hi, congrats on ur milestone! can i request gojo with #2 from the midnights prompts list from lavender haze? thank u!

ALL THIS SHIT IT NEW TO ME (s. gojo)

a/n: reader is on their period, satoru calls reader sweet girl and m'lady once, suggestive towards the end with mentions of pregnancy and period sex

L’s MIDNIGHTS EVENT!

Your phone vibrates against the wood of the bedside table.

"Hello?"

Sounding slightly out of breath, Satoru immediately responds on the other side of the call.

"Hi."

Silence takes over the line as he refuses to elaborate any further on his reason for calling. Between whatever the hell he's playing at right now and the dull sensation of what feels like clawing inside of your abdomen, your patience wears thin.

Your second greeting comes less friendly, "Hello?"

"Are you okay?" he instantly asks.

Is he on drugs?

Satoru can practically see your teeth gritting on the other end of the line as you sigh and take a moment to collect your thoughts. With an exhausted and irritated tone, you scoff.

"Are you okay?"

"Your text," he softly points out.

You sigh. Satoru had left early this morning for work, as he usually does. It wasn't until you woke up late with a massive migraine and familiar ache in your stomach that you realized you started your period. It being a bit early this month, you were out of tampons and naively texted your boyfriend to pick you up some his way home.

You should've known it seemed a bit too easy when he merely replied with a thumbs-up.

Fingers pressing the bridge of your nose, you do your best to stay somewhat pleasant.

"…What about it?"

"I'm at the store now," Satoru states the obvious. You can hear the diluted commotion of other shoppers around him, the sound of items being scanned and shopping carts being steered.

He may mean well, but you're failing to see the purpose of his call, "And you're calling me because…?"

"This is such a scary aisle," he says beneath his breath, but you hear him all the same.

You can practically see his pout of cluelessness as he stands before the aisle, hand on hip and sighs, "There's so many… things going on."

"I sent you a picture of the box, Satoru," your eyes instinctually roll back like muscle memory. A cramp hits you a bit harder than the rest and you wince, desperate for his help, "Please, I'll Venmo you."

You hear a muffled scoff from the other line, "No, that's not what I mean. Never say that again."

"Then what do you mean?"

Walking the line between being in over his head and weirdly intrigued, Satoru hums to himself.

"There's like… a million options."

Your hand flexes in on itself in irritation, nails leaving crescents on your palm when you bite, "It's really not that hard when I sent you a visual aid."

"All this shit is new to me," his voice gets muffled a bit and you can tell he's wedging the phone between his shoulder and ear.

You hear the sound of plastic being fondled when he innocently asks, "There's sizes? What size are you?"

"It's not a size thing, Satoru—"

He interrupts you, "It says there's different settings—”

"Settings?" You're going to kill him.

"Yeah," he responds too casually for the situation. "Regular, super, super plus. What the fuck is ultra?"

It's borderline comical, the way you look up to the ceiling in disbelief. If there's a god in heaven, he'll make it so Satoru hangs up the damn phone and gets his ass back in the car within the next minute.

"Like I said in the text," your tone is cold and irritated, "the regular ones are fine."

It's silent for a beat when Satoru whispers, "Are you sure?"

"What do you mean am I sure?" you try not to spit venom. "I've only been doing this for over ten years."

"I mean, I'm pretty big though, and—”

"This is so different, oh my god," you groan, head in hands. "Get the regular ones."

More rustling of plastic and shuffling ensues. "Okay, okay, getting the regular ones. Damn, they make you pay for these?"

"Yes, Satoru," you hiss through a clenched jaw. "Anything else or can I hang up on you now?"

You hear him moving, and you can only pray that it's towards the checkout area, when he breathes, "Actually, yeah.”

You should've known not to ask, as Satoru readjusts his grip on his phone and smoothly taunts, "Are you more likely to get pregnant on your period? Asking for a very interested friend."

The sound of the call ending is his cue to swipe his card.

…

Not long after and in the middle of his lunch break, Satoru arrives home.

He's all smiles when he knocks on the half-open bedroom door, and he sympathetically smirks when he's met with your icy glare and bedhead.

He presents the plastic bag of goodies with a dramatic bow, “M'lady."

"Thank you," grumbles from your lips as you practically snatch it from his hand.

Satoru sits on the edge of the bed next to your limp body, "Anything for you, sweet girl."

His hand finds your tender side as he rubs gentle and warm circles on your skin, a weak attempt to ease any pain of yours he can. He leans back on his palm as he watches you rustle through the bag.

"Got you some other stuff, too," he says, hand finding your hair and gently scratching your head.

It's sweet of him, really. Your usual box of tampons sits on top of the items, followed by a few of your favorite candies and one of those makeshift heating pads shaped like a stuffed animal. You already have about five of them, but it's the thought that counts.

Feeling yourself ease up at his good intentions, you go to thank him—but another package at the bottom of the bag has you glaring at him.

"Satoru…"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Condoms?" you hold out an unopened box of his favorite brand and toss them his way.

"Oh, yeah," he moves the hand in your hair down to your neck, stroking its side softly.

His breath is warm on your skin when he leans in to press a gentle kiss to the spot he knows you like beneath your ear. Though you huff at the insinuation, he doesn't miss how you shiver a bit beneath his lips.

"During my lengthy and extensive research, I read that sex can help cramps," he declares proudly, nudging your throat with the tip of his nose.

“Who were you keeping that detail from, hmm?"

#L's MIDNIGHTS EVENT!#gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fluff #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo fic #gojo fic

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saetoru · 8 months

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)

synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break

word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)

contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry

notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak

everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.

they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.

you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.

you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.

when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.

satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.

it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.

he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.

you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.

but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.

“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”

you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.

he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.

he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.

“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”

“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”

“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”

“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.

he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.

“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”

“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”

“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”

“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”

“sure,” he chuckles.

and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.

“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.

he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.

great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.

you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.

“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”

“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”

“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.

with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”

you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.

you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.

you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.

—————

just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.

the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.

this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.

how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.

his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.

instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.

his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.

the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.

“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.

“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”

it’s way too early for this.

by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.

that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.

maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.

“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.

that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.

“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”

“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”

“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”

satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.

but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.

his bare chest, in fact.

you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.

“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.

this is…new. very, very new.

“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”

“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.

you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.

“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.

it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.

“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”

“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”

“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”

“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.

and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.

this is going to be a longer break than you thought.

—————

the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.

you grin, reaching over when—

“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”

“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.

“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.

“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.

he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.

it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.

“do you still throw away the ends of these?”

you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”

“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder.

“shut up,” you hiss, “you talk too much.”

“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.

“yeah, as if.”

“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.

ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence.

“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.

“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”

yeah. very snobby.

“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.

he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.

“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”

“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”

“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.

satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”

“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”

“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”

something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.

“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”

“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”

it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.

“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.

“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”

“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.

“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”

“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”

“i know you’re not talking—”

“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.

but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.

“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”

“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”

“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”

“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”

“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”

“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.

suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.

“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”

you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.

you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.

you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.

and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.

—————

satoru meets you when you’re six.

he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard.

somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.

a magnetizing one, in fact.

it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you.

when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.

the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him?

he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.

so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs.

your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better.

he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop.

“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines.

it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his.

satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone.

it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction.

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru.

“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”

he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower.

fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you.

“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”

and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.

would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.

god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.

he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you.

it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?

——

“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”

“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends.

oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted.

“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”

“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”

“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”

“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”

“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”

satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.

silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.

—————

it’s night four.

satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new.

he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome.

scarily handsome, in fact.

you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend.

maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen.

you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.

you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.

“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”

“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk.

“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”

“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused.

he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”

“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”

“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.

satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle.

“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”

“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.

it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.

“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him.

you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?

he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”

you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it.

“how would you know—”

“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”

“he was hot—”

“yeah? and i’m not?”

he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it.

“satoru, what are you—”

“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends—show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”

“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.

it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information.

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”

and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips.

so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.

your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble.

“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”

“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”

“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone.

no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples.

“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw.

“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.

“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.

“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb.

“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign.

for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”

“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”

“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core.

“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”

that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”

“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up.

but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you.

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”

before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal.

you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale.

“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.

“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”

he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face.

satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him.

your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.

suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night.

it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length.

you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more.

“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”

“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”

so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you.

“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”

“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”

“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”

“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”

“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”

“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”

satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him.

your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans.

the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness.

you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.

“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”

“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you.

it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.

your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever.

“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”

“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin.

“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”

suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he seethes, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.

fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.

“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”

do not comment about a part 2

but yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything

#teepods.writings #fics.#thirstee!#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut

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chosos-mascara · 1 year

Text

payback

𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - after learning your boyfriend has been cheating on you, satoru devises a plan of payback.

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - make out, love-bites, PiV, creampie, manipulative!Gojo, kinda yandere Gojo, kinda angsty to begin with, cheating!suguru, college au

minors + ageless dni 2k words

"He's not, he can't be-" Stuttered words fell from confused lips as you took a step backward, peering up to the blue eyes through tinted lenses. His mouth had been downturned, and the awkward body language had confirmed that the statement he'd spoken had been honest. But, you couldn't accept them. "He is." Satoru's confirmation caused your stomach to churn, head shaking in disbelief. The pair of them were playful, often pranking one another - this had to be a remnant of that. A prank.

Though, you'd entertained the idea nonetheless, following the white head of hair through the crowd of civilians and stopping by a nearby tree, eyes lingering over the outstretched finger before following the line of direction. Sure enough, it had been Suguru, sat in a cafe garden opposite another woman, smiling wide. There had been a painful twang within your chest as you witnessed the interaction, desperately attempting to extinguish the flame of jealousy and hurt within your chest, and to reason with yourself. He wouldn't do that to you - this was probably a friend.

But, as he'd leaned forward to place a kiss upon her glossy lips, there had been no explanation for his actions voiced within your head. Instead, mouth ajar, you watched through teary eyes. Satoru hadn't lied; Suguru had in fact been cheating on you. "Why-" You began, blinking eyes to allow tears to fall, instead of allowing sobs rake through you. "Why did you tell me?" Tearing your gaze from the couple, you instead landed upon Satoru once more, a look of genuine empathy etched over his features. It was an expression you hadn't seen until recently, catching glimpses of the countenance through the corner of your eye - always aimed toward you. Now, you understood why.

"It's wrong." The phrase, uttered quietly, had been enough explanation. Although they were best friends, Satoru always seemed to do the morally correct thing, abiding by his own compass. Suguru's thoughts had mattered, though he hadn't let them alter his own. "Do you want me to take you home?" Satoru questioned, and after some consideration, you agreed. The pair of you walked to the student accommodation nearby, the male stopping outside your door and waving good-bye, with the exchange of his number if you were to need anything.

it's over. A short, sweet text, one that would end ties between you and the brunette who'd broken you after a short year together. There hadn't needed to be further discourse, because he'd understood from the short message displayed over chat where he'd gone wrong.

When back in lectures, you'd avoided the pair. Not that you'd allow your head to hang low, instead sticking with friends and wearing a smile - you were confident no one would read further into the hurt you'd felt. Though, one friend, who'd frequented outings between yourself and your ex, present at the time of heartbreak, hadn't missed the way your smile would straighten out once Suguru had passed you around campus, lips turning downward and posture slackening. He'd listen to his friend speak of other women, yet watched as his eyes would wander to you, seeking your frame within every room they'd enter, or hall they'd pass through. Suguru was too proud to admit his faults, and that perhaps, he'd regretted his decision to cheat.

"I'm just saying," Satoru stirred the pot, two glasses of white wine sitting idly by the stove. "Red is for winter, white is for summer." You leaned against the counter, gaze fixed to his pale fingers wrapped around the wooden spoon, bolognese bubbling beneath. Through the skin, veins traversed and branched upward, arm flexing with each wrist movement. "I didn't know there was a time limit on when I could drink wine." You commented, finally putting one of the glasses to your lips and sipping the liquid. Satoru turned the heat down, moving to the spaghetti pot. He picked it up, moving toward the sink and draining the contents, before dishing out the pasta on two plates.

"I still can't believe this is your home." Looking past the male to the small, yet sleek kitchen he worked within, admiring the room while he picked the plates up, placing them on the breakfast bar. You smiled, taking a seat opposite him, the glass you'd held now being placed onto the granite. "My parents paid for it, didn't want me living in dorms." He commented, sipping his drink before his eyes wondered to meet your own. "Sometimes, I wish they'd just let me live like everyone else, though."

You nodded, fork pushing into the plate of food and twirling the spaghetti around the metal. "Dorms suck, plus you only have two months left." Trying to eat the long, sauce coated noodles in a way that doesn't create mess being difficult. Though, Satoru's actions are much like your own, tomato coating his chin as he sucked the pasta through his lips. "Then I'll be a business associate with no time to myself." He sighed, picking up the glass to take a sip between bites of food. "But, I didn't ask you here to talk about that." Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he sat himself straighter, the playful smirk you knew so well returning to his face. "I know how to make Suguru jealous."

"Oh, Satoru-" You began, frown forming over your cheeks as you placed the cutlery to rest on the plate. "I don't care about that. I'm fine." A half-lie. You had cared a little, even if not to regain the relationship, just to make him suffer for the actions he took. "Sure." He laughed. "Lucky for you, I am willing to sacrifice my free time and date you!" Satoru exclaimed, arms waving upward and grin wide enough to show the white teeth between his lips. You shifted in your seat, brow furrowing. "Satoru, I'm not fake-dating you." Crossing one arm over the other, you leaned back. But Satoru stood, walking to stand beside you.

As you were still seated, his height stood much taller than usual, head tilting downward as he leaned toward you, supported by an arm placed on the table. "How could I persuade you?" Voice low, he brought his lips to your ear, grazing over the skin. Conflicted, you moved away from the warmth, sight trailing from the vascular hand on the granite to the now uncovered blue eyes. "He's your friend, don't you care?" The question fell on deaf ears as Satoru furthered his proposition, a kiss planted at your jaw, another at your cheek, before his lips were inches from your own. "Nah."

A delicate kiss to test the waters, a deeper one once he'd felt you'd reciprocated the action. Satoru tasted like the wine you drank, and smelled sweet like candy. Of course, it had been his addiction, an insatiable sweet-tooth, paired with vanilla perfume. Satoru molded perfectly to your movements, pushing into you, spare hand cupping the base of your head to hold you in place. Even if he'd been Suguru's friend, and perhaps this was his way of using you - it had felt good. Satoru kissed with passion, tongue sliding across your lips before entering your mouth with a hum, flickering against your own. His fingers wrapped around the back of your neck, goosebumps pricking the skin he touched, his own white hair tickling your face when he'd grown closer. Pressed up against one another, not an inch of you had been left unconnected.

A light tug had you standing, lips finally pulling from one another with heavy breaths, Satoru's fingers now wrapping around your wrist to tug you toward his room. There hadn't been much time to appreciate the decoration in this space as you had with the others, his lips reconnecting with your neck, softly nipping over the skin. One spot in particular, you'd allowed a gasp through half open mouth and Satoru had taken notice, sucking over the skin to leave a bruise. His grip pulled at your shirt, moving the garment upward and tongue to the exposed skin, unclasping bra before pulling you toward his bed.

Both undressed, Satoru placed himself between your legs, lined up at the dripping hole before edging himself inside. Much like his frame, Satoru's cock was long, pale and vascular, curving toward his body. When he teased himself inside of you, your back had arched, the curve pressing at your walls and massaging into spots you hadn't felt touched before. "Fuck, 'Toru-" Cut off by a rampant thrust, balls slapping harshly against the curve of your ass, he bottomed out until his tip kissed your cervix before slowly pulling himself through you, to push back in at a gentler pace. "Bet he didn't feel this good." Through half lidded eyes, you watched his smile, hips rocking into yours. "Tell me how good I make you feel." His voice had been much rougher than when he'd spoken with you in the kitchen, fueled by lust and the feeling of your pussy hugging over him, sheathing himself within your walls while watching you squirm beneath him.

This was something Satoru had wanted since he'd first laid eyes on you, excitement bubbling within him as he'd stepped forward to speak to you - only to be interrupted by his friend. Since that moment, you'd allowed yourself to be captivated by Suguru, and all Satoru could do was watch. When he'd tease you, you'd bite back, a spark that Suguru had stolen with each passing month, even if you hadn't let on.

"I heard you last night." Satoru spoke, cigarette between lips. You looked to him with furrowed brows, frowning. "That's disgusting." He hadn't been spared a look of disappointment from you, an uncomfortable hand scratching at the sleeve of your shirt as you turned to return inside, but his firm grasp over your wrist had halted you. "I heard you crying." Voice lower, cigarette smoke drifting into the air, Satoru leaned downward to meet you at eye-level. "Just admit you're not okay." Perhaps his words had been meant as comfort, but you'd ripped yourself from his grasp and continued on your path nonetheless. A moment you felt reminded of when he'd led you to his bedroom, when his touch roamed your sides and squeezed over your hips.

And, that conversation had been the force he'd needed to bring him to the decision. He'd paid a Gojo intern to speak with Suguru, 'accidentally' sending him nude photos of herself over text. At first, the poor brunette had resisted, yet when fed every detail, conversations orchestrated by none other than Satoru, Suguru soon fell for the charm. To have you in his bed tonight, and around his arm tomorrow, Satoru had paid thousands, not to mention the hours of work put into manipulating Suguru. But, within this moment, he had been thankful to his past self, balls deep in the woman he'd pined over for months.

"Y-you make me feel good, 'Toru." Whines from your lips, his fingernails in the fat of your skin, grasping you while fucking himself deeper. Your pussy had sucked him in, the mewls from your lips as your back arched against his mattress causing his dick to twitch. He'd messed around with plenty of women before you, but no one looked quite as perfect as you. "Tell me," He grunted, teeth grazing over his lip as he'd felt you clench. "I'm the best you've had." Satoru enjoyed appraisal, especially from you.

"You're the best!" Shouted from your lips while he'd bullied into you, head tilted backward. "You're the best I've ever had, 'Toru, fuck-" His thumb met with your clit, rubbing over you in circles as you stuttered under him. "So much better than Suguru, hng-" The comment had him speeding up, growing closer to release. "Your cock's so much better, baby."

He grunted, animalistic grumbles through gritted teeth as he filled you with white ropes, shooting a load deep within the cunt he'd claimed. A moment he'd waited a year for, and hadn't let him down. He knew that he wouldn't let you go now, no matter what. Satoru understood the need to be beside you from this moment forward, an emotional pull known as love.

a/n: not proof read sorryyy!

1K notes · View notes

tonycries · 2 months

Text

Go For It, Gojo! - G.S.

Synopsis. You wouldn’t fuck Gojo Satoru even if you were paid… …is what you thought exactly five minutes before you were shoved against the wall of this cramped closet, his face stuffed in your soaked panties.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, academic rivals to lovers, student president! reader, unprotected sex, banter about physics, cunnilingus, oral sex (male + female), 7 minutes in heaven, college! AU, 69, Satoru is a tease down bad for you (and has a big dick), overstimulation, pet names (sweetheart, hardass), swearing.

Word count. 10.2k

A/N. I really don’t like physics. Art by @_3aem on X.

Life truly has an awful sense of humor - almost as bad as Gojo’s, which you discovered on the first day of Advanced Quantum Physics.

The air charged with nervous energy and the scent of freshly printed syllabi, you quickly snag a seat right at the front row of Professor Yaga’s class.

Ah, you’ll never forget how peaceful those few seconds to yourself after introductions were - before the devil incarnate dramatically swung open those lecture hall doors and plopped himself down right next to you. Late.

“Any closer to Yaga and you’d be fucking his wife, y’know.” a voice hums from beside you, shattering your daydreams of passing this class with flying colors and riding a wave of glory into becoming a Nobel prize-winning physicist.

With a slight scowl, you turn your attention to the source of disturbance - only to meet eyes with (self-proclaimed) campus sweetheart, Satoru Gojo, leaning on his chair with an air of nonchalance. At your silence, he repeats, “I said any closer-”

“I heard what you said.” you snap, irritation flaring at the amused twinkle in his blue eyes and the mirthful grin that spreads across his lips at your reaction. “Doesn’t erase the fact that you’re sitting here too.” you raise a brow.

“Oh me? That’s because I’m already fucking his wife, sweetheart.” he deadpans with a blank expression.

What? The tense silence that follows is deafening - for the first time ever in your life, you were shocked into speechlessness.

A beat passes. One. Two. Before Gojo bursts into hysterics, clutching his stomach. “You- you shoulda seen the look on your face- HAHAHA-” he gets out between uncontrollable laughs. Face burning, you train your eyes forward and will yourself to not glance at the 6’3 mess cackling beside you.

Ugh. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Just think happy thoughts - kittens, quantum mechanics, being valedictorian. Desperately attempting to block out the giggling thorn at your side, you recoil at Professor Yaga’s extremely disapproving look in your direction.

Panicking, and dreams of being his ace student slowly flushing down the drain, you quickly flip through your notes, attempting to catch up to where the lecture had now started.

“Looks like we’re in trouble, partner~” Gojo’s dramatic stage-whisper catches the attention of students around you, them chuckling at your expense.

“Hey, you’re the student president, right? Hey~ Heyyy prez~” As Professor Yaga continues his spiel about the syllabus, you continue to very obviously ignore the incessant comments that spill out of Gojo’s lips, to stifled laughs from his fast-forming entourage.

The harder you tried to focus on Professor Yaga’s words, the louder and more absurd Gojo’s comments became - as if he’d made it his personal mission to enrage you. A sense of impending doom looming over you, you glare at him with a look that could’ve melted steel, hissing out, “Do you ever in your life shut the fuck up?”

Eyes widening in mock innocence, he grins “Oh~ I didn't know our student prez could get so feisty. Maybe I should take notes instead of doodling hearts around your name in my notebook.”

Ears ringing in embarrassment and frustration, and mind a whirlwind of how bad it would really be if you killed Gojo right here, you almost miss Professor Yaga’s question, “Now, would anyone here be able to discuss the interpretations in the debate between the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”

Teetering on the edge of your seat, you raise your hand, scrambling to salvage whatever is left of your academic reputation. You and- Gojo?

You start at the call of your name from Professor Yaga, “The Copenhagen Interpretation uses Heisenberg's uncertainty principle and emphasizes measurement to state that quantum-level particles can act as both waves and particles. It’s the most widely accepted and pragmatic theory.”

Gojo basically falls out of his seat in eagerness to answer after you.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Gojo.”

You internally groan, ready for whatever bullshit was about to come out of his mouth.

With a deep breath, “Not to be the devil’s advocate but the Pilot-Wave theory makes way more sense practically.”

Professor Yaga raises an intrigued eyebrow at Gojo’s statement, the class collectively holds a breath - as if awaiting the impending academic battlefield.

Gojo, with a cocky grin, plows on, “Think about it. The Pilot-Wave theory suggests that particles have definite positions and paths, unlike the uncertainty principle of the Copenhagen Interpretation. It's like predicting where a ball will land after you throw it, rather than saying it could be anywhere until you look."

Oh? He wasn’t a complete idiot?

Yet, you roll your eyes, “But the Pilot-Wave theory is too fanciful, it brings in too many hidden variables that have their own set of problems. It goes against the measurements and principles of locality!”

Unbothered by the challenge, Gojo leans back further in his chair, “What’s a couple complications? It’s a lot clearer on a microscopic level, none of that weird uncertainty of the Copenhagen Interpretation.”

Irritation running through your veins, you scoff at his condescending tone, “It might seem intuitive, but experiments and observations support the probabilistic nature of quantum mechanics.” You’re almost out of your chair at this point, an accusing finger pointed at Gojo. “Despite its weirdness, the Copenhagen Interpretation has proven successful in predicting outcomes.”

“Oh yeah? And it’s also only used by hardasses that just want to shut up and calculate, sweetheart.”

“Big talk for a little bi-”

“OKAY STUDENTS, that’s enough for now. Let’s put a pin in this discussion and move on with the topic.” Professor Yaga, who had been watching the debate with amusement, promptly ends it once you two begin to get overly heated.

The rest of the class, on the edge of their seats and probably hoping for some fists swinging between the academic titans, now sit back in disappointment at the fight cut off early.

You sit back in indignation, fuming at how Gojo had gotten you so worked up. And he was wrong too!

The lecture continues as if you two were never two curse words away from each other’s throats.

But, in the midst of it all, your glare meets blue, sparkling with amusement - a jolt of electricity runs through your body at the glint of recognition of the other’s brilliance. An unspoken yet undeniable competition.

You’ve avoided Gojo like the plague for the past few months since then - which isn’t doing much when said plague follows you around everywhere with incessant calls of “Hey, hardass prez~”. The only time you seek him out being to gloatingly show off the large, red “100” on your tests - to which, unfortunately, he does the same.

It’s stupid. It’s childish. Honestly, sometimes you think he just tries to get under your skin for the hell of it.

But you don’t have the time to think too deeply into that.

Just like you don’t have time for this frat party.

Music and alcohol thrumming through your veins, it’s always the same thing. You’d rather be holed up getting ahead of your physics textbook than be here. Yet, you owed a favor to your friend Haibara - and he’d been bugging you to come to this party for weeks now.

You’ll just stay another hour then leave, you sigh.

Zoning out as Haibara plays an overly-intense game of beer pong, you’re startled by an arm around your shoulder. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t our lil’ prez looking like she’d rather peel paint than be here.” The expensive cologne hits you before the realization of who this was. “Drooling over the jocks? I recommend the STEM majors, sweetheart, jocks aren’t that great in bed.”

Quickly shrugging off his arm, you scowl, “Not like STEM majors are any better. And unlike some people, I have goals beyond being the life of the party.”

Decked out in slacks and a slightly too-unbuttoned shirt, Gojo chuckles, “Yeah, like what? Banishing fun?” Cerulean eyes gleaming with mischief, “You gotta let loose for once, sweetheart. Not everything in life is about academics and accolades.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes “Well not like I-” but whatever snarky retort gets caught in your throat as Gojo seizes your hand, effortlessly pulling you onto the dance floor.

Caught off guard, you can do nothing more than sputter in surprise as he leans down to murmur in your ear, above the bass reverberating the walls, “C’mon hardass, sometimes in life, you just gotta- dance!”

Gojo spins you into a dramatic dip, his silver chain brushing your face and his hand on your back burning into your skin.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment - yeah, embarrassment - as the people around you cheer in amusement at the science department’s biggest rivals navigating the dance floor with surprising chemistry.

This was ridiculous. And yet, music ringing in your ears, you almost crack a smile. Almost. That is until your eye catches Haibara’s surprised ones from the side of the dance floor. Wait - here you were dancing with Gojo.

Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru.

Immediately pushing him off with a hand to his chest, you don’t listen to whatever spills out of his mouth as you make your way to Haibara, disappearing with him into the crowd.

“Hey, hey you okay? Wasn’t that the guy you were manifesting would step on Lego with his bare foot?” Haibara’s concerned voice speaks up from wherever you were dragging him through this sprawling frat house.

“Ugh, yeah. Sorry about that, I don’t even- Anyway, how did the beer pong go?” you snap out of your reverie. What happened there? You were almost…enjoying yourself with Gojo Satoru of all people.

Listening to Haibara brag about his dominating beer pong win thankfully took your mind off of your little endeavor with Gojo.

“And then Yuji totally-”

“AH, THERE YOU ARE! Perfect, come join we’re two people short!” your kinda-friend Shoko’s drunken drawl breaks through the conversation. You can barely get a word out as she forcefully drags you two into a dimly lit room against your protests.

The atmosphere heavy with beer and laughter, she plops you two down onto the floor in a neat circle of people before taking her seat beside you. “GREAT! Now we’ve got everyone, we can finally start.”

With a mischievous grin, Shoko declares, “Alrighty, folks! Time for the ol’ classic - we’re playing 7 minutes in heaven!” pulling out an old-fashioned, tattered hat from behind her back, to a collective mix of groans and cheers from the circle.

“Where did you even find that ratty old thing, Shoko?” a sharply handsome man - Geto, you think - chuckles from his seat opposite you. And beside him- your heart stops. Gojo.

A smirk curling his lips and twinkling blue eyes locked on you.

As if on instinct, you move to get up - only to be brought back down by a hand on your wrist. “Nuh-uh, no one’s escaping, c’mon it’ll be fun.” Shoko smirks, beginning to hand out pieces of paper to write down your names.

Apprehension pooling in your stomach, you share a glance with Haibara, who was honestly just happy to be here. Reluctantly, you scrawl down your name, tension building as it drops into the abyss of the hat.

“As our first attempted escapee, I think the prez should go first.” that agitating voice you knew too well speaks up. If looks could kill, Gojo would be six feet under and you’d be dancing all over his grave with a textbook on the Copenhagen Interaction.

To agreeing laughter - and your impending doom - the hat is promptly placed in front of you. God, you knew you should’ve stayed home. With a shaky hand, you delve in, grasping onto a slightly crumpled piece of paper.

Not Gojo. Please not Gojo. Literally anyone but Gojo-

Turning it over.

Satoru Gojo.

You jolt in surprise, rereading the hasty handwriting over and over - as if willing it to change. This must be some kind of sick joke. Eyes meeting Gojo’s, a flash of surprises passes his face before a self-satisfied grin takes over. He looked way too fucking pleased with himself.

“No fucking way.” Shoko mutters as it dawns on the group just who you were paired up with. Cheers and wolf-whistles erupt, filling the room as Satoru stands up extending a hand theatrically towards you. “If her highness the student prez would do me the utmost pleasure of joining me.”

You scoff, jeez it would be a surprise if you two didn’t kill each other in there. “Unless she’s…intimidated?” he bats his long lashes at you mockingly.

Intimidated? Of who? Swatting away Gojo’s hand, you stand up. “Intimidated? Don’t make me laugh.”

He leans down, retorting, “I’ve tried but you don’t seem to know how.”. The room holds their breath, attention squarely on the two of you.

A beat of silence passes as you glare at him. You really could smack his annoyingly pretty face right now, but you shouldn’t - too many witnesses.

“Now now, you two. Save it for the closet.”

Ever the mediator, Geto ushers you two in the direction of the - very cramped - closet tucked into a corner of the room.

Before you know it, the creak of the heavy wooden door rings in your ears as the door closes behind you. The loud click of a lock resonates, plunging you two into darkness.

The muffled sounds of the party seem miles away as you try to focus on your breathing - trying not to let your mind drift to Gojo. You could feel the heat of his body, the ghost of his presence less than a foot away from you.

“So…” you flinch as Gojo’s voice cuts through the deafening silence. “You still alive and breathing after being trapped in a tiny closet with me?”

You huff, desperately wanting to break out of this closet, “Yes, but you probably won’t be if you don’t stay on your side.”

“This closet is barely a closet, there’s no ‘side’, sweetheart. And that’s my leg you’re resting on.”

You immediately scramble to move away from the warmth of Gojo’s leg that you’d been subconsciously leaning yours on. In the chaos, you probably did a bit more damage than solving. “Ah! Wait- watch the crown jewels, hardass.”

You distance yourself as much as possible in the small space, knee burning where it had brushed up against Gojo’s that.

God, you were making a fool of yourself.

“As much as I like forceful women, you better take me out on a date first, sweetheart.” As your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting filtering in through the slight crack of the door, you could make out that signature playful grin.

Your irritation simmers beneath the surface. Gojo always knew how to get under your skin.

“Don’t you worry your empty lil’ head, I wouldn’t fuck you even if I was paid.” you bite back.

“Oh yeah?” Gojo leans in slightly, his voice low and teasing. “You sure about that, prez? I’ve been told that I’m irresistible.”

You raise a brow, unimpressed. “Yeah, irresistibly hard to not smack.”

“I always did like ‘em feisty. Makes our little debates all the more interesting.”

“Our debates would be a lot more interesting if you learned to keep that big mouth shut.”

“Oh? C’mon, prez, you love this ‘big mouth’. And you love the challenge. I see the way you look for me every time you answer one of Yaga’s questions, y’know.” Gojo murmurs, gaze piercing into yours.

He leans in closer - now definitely not on his side of the closet. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d call it chemistry. Admit it and I might consider not calling you ‘hardass’ for a whole week.”

“What- That’s just because- I’d rather be called ‘hardass’ for a lifetime than admit to having any chemistry with you. I can’t even tolerate you for seven minutes here.” you sputter at both his proximity and his (absurd) accusations.

“As the student prez, isn’t your entire job to tolerate everyone? You’re a walking contradiction, sweetheart.”

“I am not. You have no effect on me.” you protest, standing firm. In the heat of your argument, you and Gojo have drawn closer to each other. His breath now fanning your face as he hums, voice a seductive tease, “I do, admit it. There’s a part of you that likes our chemistry.”

A defiant spark ignites in your eyes, “I’ll admit no such thing.”

“Then…hit me like I know you want to if you don’t want this.” he whispers, voice breathless. He closes the distance.

Gojo’s lips meet yours.

Soft, they were so soft.

Your heartbeat thundering in surprise, a hand raising to - to what? Smack him away? Eyes fluttering closed, your hand fists his shirt, the other subconsciously finding its way to his cloudy locks. Tugging. Kissing him back.

Satoru kisses you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, he knows - he probably won’t.

Lips searing against yours, his eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste. Sweet - so sweet - just like candy, with a hint of Baileys and everything that he’ll never be able to have.

A strangled groan leaves his throat when you bite down on his lips. Tugging with your teeth. Shit, fuck him and his bigass ego, he wanted to be the one showing off his irresistibility but really it’s the other way around.

Mouth opening to let you in, he drinks in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Large hands on your face pulling you impossibly closer to him in this godforsaken closet. It was dizzying - almost as if it hurt to part, drawn by that familiar magnetism that always seems to hang around you.

Lost in the heat of the moment, Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body. Groping and squeezing every curve and dip - he doesn’t have enough time. He probably never will.

A hand rests firmly on your hips. Awaiting. Breaking away - just a fraction - he breathes out urgently into your lips, “I need to taste you. Let me taste you. Please.”

“Desperate, huh?”

Your gaze pierces through him, it always does. Immediately after your disoriented nod, he presses a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck. God, he could do this forever.

You shudder as he hastily bunches your tight dress at your hips, sending blood rushing straight to his cock. Shit, this was not how he expected these 7 minutes to go.

Hurriedly falling to his knees, the pain doesn’t even register when he comes face-to-face with your clothed cunt. Panties already so wet - just for him. Cock twitching carnally, he needed to taste you now.

Tongue flattening across your swollen folds through your underwear, just a slight taste of your wet pussy and Satoru already thinks he might pass out. Ah, so good - of course you taste heavenly.

“Ah! Gojo- more.”

Pulling away, he feels drunk off the whimper of disappointment that escapes your mouth. “Call me Satoru.” he hums, fingers deftly sliding your soaked panties down your legs. His hot breath fanning your entrance has you clenching your thighs together, desperate for any friction.

Mouth watering at this, Satoru curses the darkness inside the closet - can’t even admire your pretty pussy right. You flinch as his face meets your cunt. Shit, this was better than he’d ever imagined on those lonely nights pathetically fucking his fist.

He breathes you in so sinfully, tongue sliding teasingly between your folds in a leisurely rhythm that almost has him forgetting however many minutes you two have left. Frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either. Sinful squelches fill the confined space, along with your quiet moans of his name.

“Hngh- S-Satoru. Feel s’good. Faster.”

Ah, it’s really music to his ears. Your voice plays on repeat in his mind. He doesn’t even realize the call from outside until you look down at him, eyes dazed and kiss-bitten lips moving to panickedly mutter, “Satoru, we only have three more minutes.”

Ah, guess he’ll have to take his time in his dreams.

“I only need two.” Satoru purrs, lips ghosting your wet core, voice sending goosebumps down your spine - all the way down to your dripping cunt.

“W-well, stop hngh- running your mouth then.” you retort.

Satoru’s smirk against your plush folds is the last thing you see before he dives nose-deep in your pussy. He doesn’t waste time, tongue dipping in and out of your hole at an unforgiving pace. In and out in and out in and-

“Hah- yes! Satoru jus’ like that!” you hiss out, desperately trying to keep the moans ripping from your throat to a minimum, in fear of the others outside hearing.

Noticing, Satoru snakes a hand up to your mouth - bullying his ringed-fingers in through your swollen lips. His index caresses your tongue, speeding up his movements on your pretty pussy as you gag around him. Moans catch in your throat as you struggle to accommodate him, the pleasure of being stretched from two ends too much.

Satoru only has to take one look - tears clinging to your lashes and drool trickling down the corner of your mouth as you suck on his fingers - before he thinks he might just cum in his pants. Fuck, it was so lewd.

You tighten your grasp on his hair, sure that your knees would give out if it wasn’t for the bruising grip he had on your hips, keeping you firmly on his mouth. Unable to run away.

Shit, for someone so tight-laced, you were so messy on his mouth. He moans as your slick pools in his mouth, dripping down the corners of his lips. The tap! tap! tap! of it hitting the hardwood floor rings deafeningly in his ears.

Ah, so this is why they call it 7 minutes in heaven. Satoru thinks he wouldn’t mind dying if it was in between your legs being suffocated by your cunt.

Your entrance clamps down desperately on his tongue, forcing him to bully it into your snug pussy, fucking you unrelentingly. His nose rubbing against your swollen clit over and over.

At this point, Satoru doesn’t know whether the pulse he feels is that of his heartbeat or your cunt, throbbing and achingly needy for his mouth. His nose stimulates your clit just right, sending shockwaves through your body that have you bucking into him for more.

Voice slightly muffled by his fingers, “Fuck- Satoru, keep going. Hngh- I’m gonna cum!”

The way your walls desperately try to fuck his tongue has his cock straining so painfully against his trousers. Satoru increases his abuse on your cunt mercilessly, the harsh pace making you squeal and buck into his face. Your juices are now all over his mouth, gushing around his tongue. In and out in and out in and out-

“Satoru!”

You cum hard - all over Satoru’s pretty face.

Now, Satoru loves when you run your mouth and infuriate him, but he might just love it even more when you’re falling apart and speechless under his touch.

Riding out your high on his features, you can feel yourself quivering around his tongue as he laps up your juices as if it were a delicacy. Deep moans leaving his mouth and vibrating across your soaked cunt, making you jolt at the overstimulation.

Pulling back, Satoru admires your unfocused eyes and bruised lips. “For someone that so fucking despises me, your slutty pussy sure is sucking me in so desperately.” he murmurs, slightly out of breath after what just transpired.

“Sh-shut up.”

Ah, if only he got to see this view more often.

You can’t help but feel the same way. Seeing Satoru fucked out, vibrant eyes half-lidded and blown out, your slick prettily glossing all over his mouth and nose. A small voice in the back of your mind wishes he was more like this and not whatever he is when he’s getting on your nerves.

“ONE MORE MINUTE! Finish up whatever devil’s tango or death match y’all are having in there!”

Those troublesome thoughts are pushed out of your mind as soon as you hear Shoko call from outside.

The bubble is broken. Jumping apart as far as possible in the cramped closet, you press yourself into the closet wall as you two wordlessly rush to make yourselves slightly more presentable. The air, once charged with overflowing tension and sex, now so strained.

Bending down to feel for the panties that Satoru- no, Gojo had thrown god-knows-where, your hands graze his - still slightly wet with your spit. Snatching your hands back as if it burned, you make out Gojo’s figure pocketing something.

…

Your panties??

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you hiss, face burning at both his actions and the idea of going outside without panties.

“Just think of it as repayment for the fun.” he hums, mirth spilling into his tone. And before you could snap at his antics, Shoko is ripping the door open and looking around the closet for what you can only assume to be missing body parts and blood.

“Aw, man. And here I was thinking Satoru would be six feet under by now.” she groans, walking off disappointedly - for which you were eternally grateful otherwise she’d have seen the few suspicious stains on the floor.

“Remember, you owe me twenty, Shoko.” Geto speaks up from the circle. Were they…betting on whether you and Gojo would kill each other in there?

Finally stepping out of that godforsaken closet, you catch the smirks and raised eyebrows from some of the people from the group.

Meeting Gojo’s eye, a smirk curls around his swollen lip as he swipes a thumb across it. Agonizingly slow. Teasing.

Your cheeks flare, something pooling in your stomach. Ugh, this is why you hate frat parties.

“You alright, man? You look…flushed?” you hear Geto question, pointedly staring at Satoru’s slightly disheveled look.

It was all getting too much - the alcohol in the air, the thumping of the overplayed pop music, and him. You felt so lightheaded. Ripping your gaze from Gojo’s you leave without so much as a goodbye to him, only stopping for a reassuring nod at Haibara. You make a beeline for the exit, dashing out of there and down the winding staircase as fast as you could.

Focused on navigating the packed party, you almost don’t register Gojo rushing after you. Ignoring whatever words were tumbling out of Gojo’s mouth, you silently thank the sorority that had just pulled up - clinging onto him in greeting, making it impossible to follow after you.

The cool night air washes over you as you finally step outside. You sigh in relief as you leave the chaotic sounds of the party - and him - behind.

Impatiently waiting for your friend on the way to pick you up, only two thoughts echo in your mind.

He actually only needed two minutes.

What the fuck?

Meanwhile, back in that heady room, Shoko nudges Suguru, the latter still watching in amusement where Satoru had run after you in the door. “Hm?” he asks, absent-mindedly.

“Why do most of these papers have Satoru’s name?”

---

You pass through the next morning in a daze. The hardest part was probably trying to get dressed without making eye contact with the purple finger marks on your hips that Sato- Gojo had left to remember him by.

You still can’t believe that happened.

It’s alright, it was just a mistake in the heat of the moment - you just have to forget it ever happened, right? But that’s easier said than done when your last class of the day is Advanced Quantum Physics.

Cursing your timetable, you step through the crowded campus. You pull your sweater tighter around yourself, the fabric doing nothing to stop your skin searing where Gojo’s lips had been just last night.

Alright, you just had to get through this one class today. There’s a lot of people in Professor Yaga’s class - it’s not like you’ll necessarily see that bane of your existence-

“Yooo prez, fate just seems to bring us together hmm?”

Gojo almost topples out of his chair, waving in your direction. As your eyes sweep across the room, you can feel your heart sinking. Shit, you really feel like you’re being Punk’d right now.

Cursing whoever was up there for this cruel joke, you make your way to the desk beside Satoru’s - the only empty one.

Slumping down onto the chair with a frustrated huff, you sink into yourself - eyes trained firmly forward and ignoring the playful grin in your peripheral vision.

To your surprise, Gojo doesn’t say a word throughout the lecture. Not a single comment about fucking any professor’s wife - or your cunt. Huh, did last night cause some type of qi deviation or something?

As Professor Yaga drones on about quantum entanglement, you find the words going in one ear and out the other, too focused on wondering what Gojo’s game was.

It’s only towards the end of the lecture, at the introduction of some new assignment that you find yourself finally letting your guard down. Okay, see, it wasn’t too bad. Now time to go back to your apartment and study whatever quantum entanglement was for the next five hours.

“Ah- And remember, the midterm assignment pairings are posted on Canvas.”

What was that?

God, you hated working with other people. It was much more efficient for you to stay in and finish this paper in one sitting.

“So, partner~ My place or yours?”

What?

The bell rings, its metallic chime resonating in your mind almost as loud as Gojo’s words. Signaling the end of class - and probably the end of your sanity.

You wish the ground would swallow you up at this very moment. These days have really not been your days.

---

“Literally what do you bring to the table?”

“Comedic relief and my undeniably good looks.”

“...”

“...and also the case study and background information.”

The air at the stuffy café just off-campus was a mixture of freshly ground coffee and hushed conversations - of course, occasionally disrupted by the chaotic debates that erupted from your little booth.

Not too long ago, as everyone moved to file out of the classroom, you were frozen, glaring at your open laptop so intensely you half-expected it to combust - scrutinizing the neat arrangement of Gojo’s name next to your own over a million times.

Finally sighing in defeat, you nodded in surrender at Gojo - who was whooping in victory. But, you were still adamant on meeting somewhere in public. The last time you two were left alone ended up…interesting.

“Then you do that and I’ll take care of the rest of the theoretical analysis and evaluation. Okay, sounds good, Gojo.” you deadpan, rubbing the sides of your forehead in frustration.

“Ouch, no Satoru?”

Ignoring his comment, you promptly slam your laptop closed, gathering your things with a determined sigh. Ready to escape the stifling atmosphere of the cafe. “So you do that and put it on the doc, and I’ll do the same with my parts. See ya.”

That’s when you feel a large hand covering yours - the same one from- “Hey there now, hardass, stay a little longer - gotta make sure you don’t slander quantum entanglement in our essay the same way you do with the Pilot-Wave theory.” Gojo interrupts your intrusive train of thought.

“What? Unlike you, I don’t slander any scientific theories. Although, I do think the idea of entangled particles jumping around like you do is hardly the hallmark of a stable scientific theory.” you retort, face burning but setting down your bag nonetheless.

Resting his face on his hands, he grins at you. “Oh yeah? I think stability is overrated, prez. Quantum entanglement challenges you because it’s a realm where your precious stability crumbles in the face of non-local correlations.”

God, was he glad he begged on his knees to Yaga to pair you two together. He was having way too much fun with this.

“Just because particles can communicate faster than you can comprehend doesn't mean we should abandon reason.” you raise a brow.

“Well, I think you should just embrace the uncertainty, sweetheart. Life is a game of chance, just like quantum entanglement.”

“Oh, really?” you drone out, sarcastically.

“Yeah, think about it. For instance, I never thought I’d still be alive and breathing after last night. But here I am.” at your stunned silence, he continues. “I for sure thought you’d have the coffin ready as soon as I kissed y-”

You panickedly place your hands over his mouth to shut him up, those blue eyes twinkle in amusement. “When I said you had a big mouth I really wasn’t lying, huh.”

Slowly removing your hands once it seemed like Gojo wouldn’t spill your endeavors in this family-friendly cafe, you sigh, “Okay- We’ll get some shit done today, alright. But this is the last time I’m meeting with you for this.”

“Mhm~ You got it, prez.”

It was not the last time you met with Gojo for this.

Nor was it the second-last.

Or the third-last.

Each and every time you two worked together on the assignment, you’d spend more time bickering about anything ranging from what you’d learned in Professor Yaga’s class that day to whether the old lady who frequented the café was a part of the mafia.

“I’m telling you, she handles those knitting needles like they’re a weapon.”

“Mhm and she sips her Earl Grey like she’s plotting espionage. Now, get to work before I use my teaspoon as a weapon.”

“I’d rather investigate her than this damn Qiskit simulation.”

“Sure, Gojo. I’ll add her to our list of groundbreaking research projects.”

“Don’t come crying to me when I rub it in your face once we see her on the news as a mafia queenpin, prez.”

You’re pretty sure the café employees have a love-hate relationship with you and Gojo - too lively to be one of their favorite regulars, but arguments too amusing to kick you two out.

And as for your relationship with Gojo…well. It’s not as if you can’t go 7 minutes without being somewhat civil, and yet that’s exactly the issue, isn’t it?

After what had happened that night, it feels as if there’s something charging the air whenever you two are together.

You chalk it up to just lingering tension, but that still doesn’t explain the way Gojo’s eyes hold a warm twinkle whenever he looks at you - gaze a little too warm than you’d expect a rival to have. But it’s fine, you just have to ace this assignment and then this strange dynamic can go back to normal.

It’s only towards the end of your assignment that you realize how wrong you really were.

---

Out of breath and darting across campus towards where you knew Gojo was waiting, you half-wish you joined the track team instead of the student government. Damn student reps, can’t keep proper archives.

As much as you got a kick out of getting on Gojo’s nerves, you hated to keep anyone waiting.

“Ah! Prez! Was heartbroken thinking you’d stood me up, y’know?” Satoru calls once he spots you bolting towards him on that dimly-lit pathway. Wow, maybe you should’ve joined the track team.

You trip. Ah, maybe not.

Feet automatically hastening your way, he catches you. Well, more like you fall into his arms.

“Just in time, huh?” he chuckles, thankful for the sun dipping below the horizon - otherwise you’d surely have caught the rosy flush tinting his cheeks. Arms wrapped around your waist and supporting your waist, Satoru almost coos at the surprised look gracing your face. You always did something to his heart.

Hastily distancing himself from you once you stand on your own, he rambles - anything to drown out the banging of his heart against his chest. “So, I’m assuming you were out there doing all your president-ly duties?”

“Ah! Yes, I’m so sorry, the meeting ran overtime and-”

Listening to you rant, Satoru thinks that he wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here - bickering with you. He’s only snapped out his reverie at your disappointed groan. Oh, what was this? He didn’t even realize his feet had carried him to the little café already.

Ripping his eyes from you, he turns to what moping at. A sign with red writing is plastered over the very locked café entrance - Sorry! Staff training today, hope to see you tomorrow!

“Seems like everyone’s got meetings today.” he hears you grumble. Satoru knows it isn’t right, but his heart leaps slightly at the chance to get to know you outside of that familiar cafe.

You, meanwhile, felt tension - and something else - pooling in your stomach. Shit, if the sanctuary of your café is no longer available…

“Well, we could just go home and finish off the paper by ourselves. It’s only the last bit anyway.” you suggest, voice slightly shaky at the idea and anticipation of actually being alone with Gojo after so long.

“But Suguru’s such a loud snorer, I’d never get any work done.” Gojo whines. Well, there goes that plan.

“The library?”

“I hear it’s haunted this time of year.” he answers right away.

“Ghosts are seasonal?” you ask absent-mindedly, too focused on weighing between the need to finish this assignment today and the uncertainty of what would happen between you and Gojo.

A tense silence fills the slowly darkening street as you go through all your options. Finally, watching the long shadows casted now, you sigh. “Fine. We’ll go to my place.” you mutter out.

“Would you get angry if I celebrated right now?”

“Maybe.”

The walk to your apartment is bathed in the soft orange glow of the setting sun. It was almost peaceful - if it weren’t for Gojo’s excited chattering about god-knows-what.

Your mind was running a million miles a minute. Was something like last time going to happen? Were you a lecher for expecting it? Why didn’t you mind the thought as much as you think you should?

You risk a glance at Satoru, who was in the middle of a passionate speech about how ketchup was a valid condiment on pasta. Soft sunlight paints his hair an amber hue, casting warm shadows that bring out his pretty features, eyes sparkling with passion and mischief. He was beautiful.

Wait. Beautiful?

“Hey isn’t this your apartment building or is walking past it a pre-entrance ritual?”

Ah. Whoops.

You snap out of those ridiculous notions, gathering whatever dignity you have left to walk back to the apartment complex you’d left in the dust while wrapped up in your thoughts.

“Oooo, didn’t take you for much of a decorator, hardass.” Gojo comments, flitting about your cozy apartment to look at all the little knick-knacks and pictures

“Did you really think I lived in some sterile lab?” you retort. Gojo’s almost-endearing curiosity amuses you enough to let go of the electricity thrumming through your body at having him so close. In your home.

“Well, I expected more beakers and fewer fairy lights, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, pretending to be offended. “Believe it or not, Gojo, hardasses can have a sense of style, too.”

He continues his exploration, stopping in front of a photo on the wall. “Who’s this model?” he grins, pointing at a picture of you in stuffy formal attire at some conference.

You sigh, knowing exactly which photo he's referring to. “That, Gojo, is me at a conference presenting a groundbreaking research paper.”

“Groundbreaking, huh? Is that what they call it these days?” he hums, arching an eyebrow playfully.

“Yes, and six feet under is what they’ll be calling you if you don’t get your ass here and finish this paper.”

“...yes, prez.”

Writing the conclusion and inserting citations is always the fun part. If you could write an essay on whatever you want, it would be only conclusions and citations, you think.

After a few hours of working on your paper, apparently Gojo does not feel the same way.

“Fuck Noodletools. All my homies hate Noodletools.”

“This is why you only have two friends, Gojo.”

“Hey! I’m a very likable person, y’know.”

“...”

He sets his laptop down leaning closer to you over where he was seated opposite you on the coffee table, clearly bored of citations for the time being. “Also, aren’t we friends, sweetheart? Technically I have three.”

You raise a brow, this was the first time Satoru had ever addressed the strange dynamic you two had. “Are we?” you ask, genuinely.

A deafening silence envelopes your living room. This was the first time you’d seen such a serious expression take over Gojo’s face as he answers, voice even, “I’m not sure.”

The atmosphere thickens with a charged tension, the weight of Gojo’s words lingering in the room. A spark flickers in his eyes. You feel like you could almost get whiplash from the contrast between the heated banter to where you two were now. Was it always so hot in this room?

You let out a strained laugh, attempting to diffuse the seriousness and go back to a trivial territory you were more familiar with. “I never thought the great Gojo Satoru would be uncertain about something.” Your eyes flicker unwillingly from his intense gaze to his worry-bitten lips.

The mischief returning to his gleaming eyes, he smirks “Uncertainty can be thrilling, don't you think, sweetheart?”

You don’t even know what to say to that - and you don’t have to. Because before you can respond, Gojo swiftly leans over the coffee table - catching your lips in a sudden, electrifying kiss.

Time stands still. A shiver runs down your spine as you realize that you didn’t want to push him away. At all. In fact, you grab a fistful of his soft locks, pulling him impossibly deeper into the kiss.

Pulling away mere millimeters, Gojo’s hot breath fanning your mouth as he whispers, “Told you the uncertainty is thrilling, sweetheart.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” you grumble, irritated because his lips ghosting yours was not enough.

Before you know it, Gojo has you pinned against the plush couch. His lips finding your, the kiss deepening as he yearns for that desperate connection - as if each breath depends on smothering you with dizzying kisses.

The room seems to shrink, right now only filled with the heated exchange of breaths and the feeling of Satoru’s lips searing into yours.

You think he tastes like caramel and uncertainty - yet, this time, you fall into the unknown with open arms. Wrapping your legs around his toned waist, your arms around his broad shoulders - bringing him to you so close you’d think the laws of physics were taking a coffee break.

It almost hurt.

The intensity of the moment only growing, the atmosphere in your homey apartment crackles with a tension that you knew in the back of your mind had been building for so long - ever since that party.

Your heartbeat echoes in your ears. You knew this would happen.

And a part of you needed it to.

His fingers trace a path along your jawline, leaving a trail of heat - you shudder, craving for more.

“Gojo, I want you.” you breathe out, words muffled by Satoru sucking sinfully on your lips.

He pulls away slightly, delicate strings of saliva still connecting him to you. Every fiber of his being resisting to part.

“Don’t call me that.” he purrs out, the intensity of his half-lidded stare sending a jolt straight down to your heated core. “It’s Satoru when we’re fucking, remember?”

Looking into his sultry eyes, for the first time ever you decide to heed what Satoru says. “S-Satoru, please.” you whimper, hips bucking up to meet his own. You can feel the large outline of his achingly hard cock straining against those stupidly overpriced trousers, pussy quivering in anticipation.

Now, there have been three times in his life that Satoru thinks he has died and gone to heaven. The first being when he discovered that the ramen joint by his dorm also had free Wi-Fi. Second, that first day in Advanced Quantum Physics when you snapped at him told him to shut the fuck up.

And finally, right now, as he’s got you needy and squirming underneath him - such pretty gasps of his name leaving your kiss-bitten lips.

God, navigating quantum physics is a walk in the park in comparison to what you put his heart through.

“Hmm, never in my life thought I’d see his view, sweetheart.” he whispers lowly into your ear, delighting in the goosebumps that erupt along your alluring body. How did he get so lucky?

Hastily pulling down your shorts, his mouth waters at your wet panties. Another prize for him, hm? Throwing them along with your panties to god-knows-where, Satoru drinks in the sight of your bare pussy - a privilege that he didn’t get in that godforsaken closet.

Ah, so ready and dripping for him already. Your slick glistens out of your heated entrance as you clench around nothing. “Aww, they’ve faded.” he whines, heart lurching at the lack of his marks from last time.

It’s alright, he can just make more.

Not one to waste time, with a bruising grip holding your hips steady, Satoru grinds his painfully hard cock into your needy cunt, savoring the pretty mewls that leave your mouth. The way your swollen pussy quivers against him makes him throw his head back, seeing stars already.

Nipping along your neck, leaving marks he knows you’ll have to cover up tomorrow. “Sit on m’face,” he murmurs into your skin.

“W-what?”

Pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the valley of your breasts, Satoru breathes you in. Fuck, he prefers the smell of your skin to any scent in the world. “Sit- on- my- face.” he repeats, words punctuated with erotic kisses to your hardened nipples, tongue flicking them through the fabric of your clothes.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know?” you gasp. Yet, still shifting on that cramped couch. Why do you two always fuck in the most inconvenient places?

Satoru’s legs hang off the end of your couch as he lays on his back, you’d almost find the position funny - if it weren’t for you straddling his head.

His hot breath on your wet cunt sends waves of electricity though your entire body as you hover over his mouth. Your needy pussy right above where his mouth is, hesitating. Your slick oozes slowly through your swollen folds - drip! drip! drip! onto his awaiting tongue, brows furrowing and eyes rolling to the back of his head at your sweet juices.

“Mhm, and I hope that you’ll be the death of me.” he hums, tongue savoring your taste.

It’s the last thing said before Satoru surges forward, plunging mouth-first into your heated cunt.

Despite not being on a time crunch this time, Satoru doesn’t waste a moment teasing - he already has you splayed out and aching for him, what more could he want?

He bullies his tongue into your snug cunt, pushing past the first ring of muscle. You twitch around him, sweet moans spilling incessantly from your mouth. “Ah! Hngh- Satoru! Fuck s’good.”

Your sounds of pleasure going straight to his dick, he bucks into your hands. Ah, more. He needs your touch more.

The feeling of your plush walls clamping down on him only spurs him on further, fucking you at a ruthless pace. One hand gropes across your body, resting a thumb on your clit that rubs tight circles, making you grind down further into his mouth.

“Your pussy is so honest, sweetheart. She wants me so badly.” he murmurs, voice sending vibrations that make you let out a loud moan which he suspects your neighbors would be complaining about.

You were so perfect for him, Satoru thinks he might go insane.

You were definitely going insane.

Satoru shows no mercy, his abuse on your dripping cunt only speeding up at every buck of your hips into his tongue. It felt so fucking good.

Closing your eyes, his pressure on your core has you seeing spots behind your vision. You could feel the curl of his signature smirk against your folds as your pussy tries sucking him back in at every thrust. Too good to let him go. “Knew you loved this ‘big mouth’, hardass.” he murmurs.

Shit, you can’t be the only one acting so needy like this.

“What’re you doing, sweetheart?” Satoru drawls, voice muffled by your cunt as he feels the breeze of his lower abdomen hitting the heady air of your living room.

“Payback.” is all you mutter out as you fumble his trousers down his long legs. Curse these gyms. Curse squats. Why did he have to be so perfectly sculpted? An Adonis in his true form.

You can feel the saliva pooling in your mouth as his boxers come into view - rock-hard cock straining painfully against it A patch of pre-cum pools at his head - he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him. Hands shaky from the way Satoru’s incessant tongue was fucking into you, you shuffle his boxers down.

Satoru’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs. Fuck- how the hell were you supposed to take him? Life was really unfortunate - water was wet, and Gojo Satoru has a huge dick.

“S-sweetheart, you don’t have to-” he murmurs against your swollen pussy.

From all your times shutting up Gojo Satoru, this one might just be your favorite.

His words catch desperately in his throat as you spit out a pool of saliva onto Satoru’s furiously flushed head. A low hiss leaving him as you teasingly lick his sensitive slit.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Satoru attaches his lips with yours once more. He groans lowly into you, the stimulation making you yelp in surprise.

“So, it’s like that, huh?”

Satoru doesn’t have the time to ponder your words before you take in as much of his length as you can in one go. “Ah! Hah- Oh fuck, prez. Always knew you were a forceful woman.”

You moan at the slightly salty taste of his precum. Gagging around him, drool drips down the corner of your mouth as you try to take him in inch by fucking inch. It was so fucking messy.

Diving nose-deep in your cunt once again, Satoru continues the merciless pace of his tongue once more. Both your muffled moans fill the heated room, lost in the pleasure and the heat of the moment.

Shit, you knew by the way your walls clenched down on his tongue that you weren’t gonna last long. And judging by the urgent twitching of Satoru’s cock - he wasn’t going to either.

He fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth, your eyes watering as his tip hits the back of your throat. Ropes of spit and precum decorate your lips. Even the staunch part of you that never backs down for anyone cheers at being so used. It’s so fucking debauched.

Your hand moves down to massage his heavy balls, tugging and pulling at a rhythm that matches the rapid ministrations of his thumb on your swollen clit.

Mind spinning and pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming as you both lean closer and closer to your highs. With a final mewl around his thick cock, your juices are gushing all around Satoru’s mouth.

Your mind blanks as you cum, the only things registering being the tingles of your oversensitive pussy as Satoru rides you through your high on his tongue and the taste of Satoru as he cums in hot spurts in your mouth. Salty, with a hint of sweet - the flavor making your pussy twitch.

Fucking his seed into you, your mouth milks his cock. His cum dribbling down the corner of your mouth, all thoughts of dirtying your couch go out your brain when you hear the fucked out whines at the back of Satoru’s throat.

Fuck a refractory period, you wanted to hear that more.

You remove yourself from him with a lewd pop! Cum flowing smoothly down your throat, you lock eyes with Satoru over your shoulder. His jaw drops, pupils blown lustfully as your tongue sticks out - showing the way you’ve swallowed every single drop of his seed.

“Now, Satoru. I need you to fuck me with yours cock just as you did with your tongue.” your words still strained from your orgasm.

Wordlessly, Satoru nods, eyes shining - still reeling from the sinful sight of your bruised lips glossy with his cum - his cum that you swallowed as if it was a delicacy.

Meanwhile you were thinking that you should fuck Satoru more if it meant you got him to shut up and be pretty more often.

Slightly more clear-headed now, just as lustful.

Your couch creaks in protest as you shift positions to face Satoru once more. He seizes your lips in a passionate kiss, mouth attacking yours with a desperation for your essence.

Your head spins as you taste yourselves on each other, words tumbling out of your mouth in the haze, “Satoru, bed- now.”

But when has he not challenged you?

“Mhm, anything you say, prez.” he whispers raspily against your lips, still-hard cock teasingly dragging along your swollen folds.

“Satoru.”

“Fuck yes. Say m’name, sweetheart.” he groans out, throwing his head back against the armrest. Your slick pools all over Satoru’s thick head, dripping sensually down his length to where he gripped tightly at the base.

Swollen lips dropping into a small “oh”, he slides a ringed hand up his member, spreading your juices. Cock twitching carnally at the way your pussy was leaking all over him, he grits out, “Need to feel you around my cock now, sweetheart.”

So he does.

Thick head pressing into your tight entrance, a low growl leaves his throat at how sinfully tight you were. Fuck, he could just about pass out right now.

“S’tight, sweetheart. So good.” he fucks up into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips - impatience quickly waning. You yelp at each thrust, walls burning with the stretch of Satoru’s thick head.

You try to steady yourself as Satoru’s thrusts get deeper and deeper, nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders. In the midst of it all you still manage to impatiently slur out, “I-if you’re gonna fuck me then hah- fuck me like you mean it, Satoru.”

Oh, that did it.

Your words make the last bit of sanity Satoru had left snap.

In a swift movement, he sheaths his throbbing erection in your wet cunt completely. A gasp gets caught in his throat at the way your walls were clamping down on him in surprise.

He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded and a dangerously predatory glint in them that sends shivers down your spine. “Fuck me like I mean it, huh? You’re quite bossy, y’know that, prez?”

Before you can retort - and probably dig your grave deeper - he stands up in one fluid motion, your legs around his waist and cock still buried deep in your snug pussy. You moan at the change in angle, his tip now kissing your cervix so deliciously painfully. Shit, you feel so full.

Hands moving down to grope your ass firmly and support your weight, he grins lowly in your ear, “You’re lucky I love that part of you.”

The wall is cold as Satoru shoves your back against it. his body making the air leave your lungs as he presses into yours, ramming into you at a merciless pace. Your tight cunt clenches so tightly around him, as if to prevent him from leaving.

Each thrust into your warm core has his eyes rolling to the back of his head, brows furrowing in ecstasy. His lips capture yours once again in a rough dance that matches the cadence of his hips.

You mewl against his mouth at the feeling of his heavy balls stinging your skin as they smack your ass. The power behind each harsh thrust has you bouncing against the wall, legs pulling tighter around his toned waist to bully his cock impossibly deeper in you.

“Where- fuck! Where’s the bed?” he moans breathlessly against your lips, voice sounding as if each thrust of his pulsing cock into your plush walls sends him spiraling deeper into insanity.

“Down- down the hallway. Hngh- fuck, Satoru!” you not far behind.

Your mind is foggy, barely even registering as Satoru moves blindly towards your bedroom with powerful strides - not yet pulling out of you.

He doesn’t get very far before he’s got you sprawled over your bedroom floor, your carpet digging into you as his cock slams into your abused cunt with that feral pace he loves so much. Not even making it to the bed.

“Ah! Hah- Satoru, what happened to the bed?” you sputter out in-between uncontrollable moans.

“Too far. Hngh- need you now.” he answers around your breasts, teasing and tweaking your sensitive nipples.

“Wh-who’s irresistible now?” you manage to smirk, relishing in the huff of laughter that escapes him. Even now, you always did manage to one-up him.

“Mhm, you’ve always been irresistible, sweetheart.” he mutters, moving to press a chaste kiss against your forehead, not sure whether the words were even meant for you to hear.

And you know it’s just pussy-drunk talk, but right now you can’t help the way your cheeks heat up, heartbeat ringing in your ears.

Not sure how to respond to that, you pull him closer to you, allowing him to bury his burning face in the crook of your neck. Maybe right now neither of you needed to speak, your bodies doing enough talking as Satoru continues his relentless cadence.

Your hips bucking up to meet his, you whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room as Satoru moves down a hand to draw rough, little circles over and over your throbbing clit. It was all too much. “S-Satoru.”

“Me too, my sweetheart. Me too.” is all he gasps out, teeth digging into your neck at the pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Satoru’s tight balls twitch as they smack your ass, cock glistening with cum and slick. He sees stars behind his eyes - or maybe those were tears at the overstimulation. He really doesn’t know anymore.

Head spinning and thoughts racing with only Satoru Satoru Satoru, you’re very much in the same state.

“Satoru?” you whine out, tears clinging to your lashes.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You pull him into an intense kiss, pussy clamping down on him desperately as his lips brand yours - it sends you both over the edge.

Satoru thinks he sees heaven as he cums, and you were probably an angel.

Hot ropes of his thick cum paint your walls white, cunt quivering around him as you both ride out your climaxes together. A creamy ring forms around his base as he fucks his seed into you desperately, marking you so obviously as his. All thoughts of Plan B run out of your mind at the overstimulated whimpers leaving Satoru’s ruby lips.

His dick twitches inside you as his unforgiving thrusts slow down to shallow grinds of his hips, nothing more than to keep his cum inside of you as your highs bate.

Body collapsing onto yours, careful to not crush you with his weight, Satoru pulls you closer to him. And despite everything that happened this evening, he thinks that this might be what makes his ears burn red the most. Your body so vulnerably connected with his own. Just the two of you in this quiet world.

The silence feels intimate and fragile. Brain still hazy from your orgasms, you don’t think you’ve ever quite looked at your bedroom ceiling from his angle.

Strangely enough, Satoru’s warm weight on you feels comforting. Neither of you speak now. Nor do you speak when Satoru carries you to bed, searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe you clean with.

It’s only when he lingers at the foot of your bed - uncertain - that the silence is broken. “Get in, stupid.” you scoff, opening the covers invitingly.

Of course, an elated smile overtaking his face, Satoru jumps in your bed with enough force to send you both bouncing. It was childish. It was so ridiculous. It had you barking out a surprised laugh at his antics.

In your joy, you don’t even realize that Satoru has stopped moving - frozen, smile slipping off his face and staring at you with an unknown spark in his eyes.

“What?” you question, feeling strangely self-conscious.

White locks tousling as he shakes his head, he breathes, “It’s the first time I’ve made you laugh.” The words hang in the delicate atmosphere, tension so thick you think it could snap any moment.

You hide your face in your hands, palms clammy. “You- you make me sound like some sort of evil witch.” you stammer out, embarrassment pooling in your gut. The tension in the air dissipates, yet the intensity in Satoru’s gaze remains.

Satoru understands, smiling blindingly. He pulls your naked body to his, wrapping his arms tenderly around your waist as you both bury into the covers. “Well, more of a hardass than an evil witch.”

“Satoru?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You still have to finish your citations.”

A/N. Can be read as a standalone BUT part 2 planned for next longfic Sunday!

Plagiarism not authorized.

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certifiedjaeger · 2 years

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Watch and Learn

Satoru Gojo x Female Reader

Summary: Gojo is beyond annoying, but there's something about him that keeps you coming back every night...

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: 18+ content, unprotected sex, slight dom!gojo/sub!reader, light choking, Gojo gets smothered by a pillow at one point lol, pet names (used mockingly), slight (?) angst/fluff throughout

Notes: This is just a tiny, little thing about reader and Gojo being friends with benefits – I hope you guys enjoy it! ♡

“Who’s a good girl?”

The way that he’s talking to you can only be described as that of an owner talking to their pet, his voice sweet and condescending as he coos in your ear, the smile on his face all too evident in the tone of his voice. He could really be infuriating sometimes… If Gojo wasn’t so good at this, you’re sure that you would pay him no mind. Yes, you’re positive that you would absolutely ignore every taunt of his; every teasing, insufferable remark that comes out of this annoying man’s mouth. Or, at least… that’s what you tell yourself.

~~~

His warmth blankets you as you lay underneath him; his tall, lanky figure encompassing your smaller one as his arms rest on either side of your head, caging you against him and his plush bed. This isn’t the first time that you’ve found yourself in such a compromising position with him– and you know for certain that it most definitely will not be your last. No, because it just feels too good. But as much as you don’t want to give him praise and as much as you don’t want him to believe that his skills are that impressive, you have to admit… he knows what he’s doing. Yes, he knows exactly how to make your body feel things you’ve never felt before and he knows exactly how to make you crawl back every time you swore that you were done with him.

“Who’s a good little listener?” His voice comes out higher than usual as he mocks you playfully, his long, veiny cock pumping in and out of you at a feverish pace. “Putting her legs up on my shoulders just like I asked her to, such a good girl,” Gojo smiles teasingly down at you, pinching your cheek and loving the way that your eyes narrow just a bit more out of frustration.

God, he loves seeing you all riled up like this…

You see, he had been taunting you this whole time, teasing you relentlessly because he swears that out of everybody he enjoys pissing off, you look the absolute prettiest while angry. With your brows furrowed and those pretty eyes of yours glaring back at him, he’s positively swooning. But then again, he could never quite get enough of your oh-so-apparent irritation toward him. Because hey, at least it was something. He knows that you don’t harbor the same feelings that he has for you, that you don’t share in his affection, only seeing him as a casual lover and nothing more– At least, not seeing him in the way that he desperately wishes for every night. But, he can’t be picky when it comes to your attention– He’ll simply take what he can get. And if he can’t get smiles and adoration out of you, he’ll at least take your scowls and annoyed expressions. Because even when you sigh out of irritation, he swears it's the prettiest noise he’s ever heard. Even when you glare at him with anger in your eyes, he swears he’s never seen anything so beautiful. So yes, he’ll keep teasing you and he’ll keep pushing your buttons, only because it’s better to receive a death stare from you than to receive nothing at all.

Oh. And he’ll also keep doing this thing he does with his hips because he knows that you like it so much. Even if you refuse to tell him how good it feels, even if you never tell him how amazing it feels to have him inside of you– he knows. Because your body gives you away everytime. It absolutely betrays every glare, every sigh, every single action of yours that suggests you’re annoyed with him. Because even though you sigh with exasperation, looking just about ready to hit him, your body reacts differently, and instead pulls him even closer to you. And he loves it. Getting under your skin. Getting all of these reactions out of you. Getting to be the man who is responsible for the explicit string of curse words leaving your mouth– either from anger or pleasure, it doesn’t matter, he loves it all the same.

“Can you shut up for once?” You bite back, digging your nails into his back and leaving little crescent-shaped marks along his skin. You’d love to say that it was payback for his annoying taunts, but honestly… you know it’s from the relentless pace that he’s set; your nails absentmindedly scratching into his skin from the feeling of his hushed panting against your neck and simply put, how good it all feels. But, he doesn’t need to know that… No, he definitely doesn’t need to know that. “I don’t come to your room at night to hear your annoying voice, you know.”

“Darling, I do believe it’s morning,” he slows his thrusts, feigning an innocent expression as he brushes your cheek with his knuckles. “I do believe that you stayed the night… Now I know you usually leave after we’re done in the evening– or should I say, you usually stumble away. Too fucked out to walk properly, right?” He smirks down at you, relishing in the sight of you looking away from him, too annoyed–or was it… too embarrassed?–to look him in the eyes. “But you stayed the whole night, didn’t you? And now we’re going for round two after a peaceful night of slumber next to one another… How cute is that? What, you just couldn’t get enough of me, is that it?” He says once again in a faux sweet tone. “Listen, I know you’re obsessed with me, but if you wanted to spend more time with me, you could, you know… just ask me out on a date–”

“Oh my god, shut up–” you groan.

“I mean, really, this is just getting out of hand, my darling girl,” he teases with a smile, “What’s next? You want me to make you breakfast after this?”

“UGH,” you let out an even louder groan, the man above you making you feel like you needed to scream into a pillow. If he wouldn’t shut up on his own accord, you would just have to make him. Quickly, you throw him off his balance and flip him over, trapping his body underneath yours as you sit atop his body. His sudden expression belongs to that of somebody who is utterly surprised, and yet, his hands seem to immediately find their way onto your hips, absentmindedly grabbing onto you as he stares up at you with a twinkle in his eye and his mouth slightly parted.

“Well… go on then,” he nods his head to you, the corners of his mouth turning up into a slight smirk.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” your voice comes out harsh as you dig your nails into his chest. One of his hands immediately leaves the soft skin around your hip and instead grabs onto both of your wrists, instantly stopping your movements as a more serious–more dangerous–look flickers across his face.

“Maybe you should,” he says in a low tone, his ‘suggestion’ coming out more as a warning.

You glance down at his lips that aren’t raised into their normal smile, feeling a small shiver go down your spine as his sudden dominant side makes an appearance. Oh yeah… this is why you put up with him. This right here– with him roughly grabbing onto your wrists and pinning them to his body, hearing the very lips you love to kiss utter these dangerous demands. With him reminding you of just how much stronger he is than you, with him immediately putting you in your place with only the slightest change of his tone. Yes, this is why you keep crawling back to him every night. As if you had no other choice, as if the helpless and addictive feeling that courses through your veins everytime you’re with him guides you directly back to the man himself.

You feel yourself soften against his intense gaze, feeling a bit more submissive now as his threatening words echo in your mind.

Maybe you should…

Yes, maybe you should… Slowly, you lean down and place a gentle, almost timid kiss against his lips, silently wishing for his smile to return, almost desperate for him to praise you for your sweet obedience. But he doesn’t kiss you back– Well, not at first, anyways. No, he wants to feel you desperate against his lips, he wants to feel you ache for him, just as he does for you. He needs to know how badly you want him– regardless of the eye rolls and the incessant sighs, he needs for you to show him that you need him. Just as he needs you.

And when he feels your tongue graze against his bottom lip, a silent plea for him to kiss you back, he decides to give you exactly what you want. He chases your lips, locking them with his instantly as he swallows the moan you let out into his mouth. It’s adorable, he thinks, how badly you try to fight your feelings, how much effort you put into acting as though you hate him, only for your mouth to then give you away like this. Afterall… he can hear you. He can hear the desperation in your moans, he can feel the desire coursing through your body. He knows you’ll keep coming back every night– or at least, he hopes.

He lines himself up with your entrance once again and places his hands on your hips as he pushes up into you, quickly resuming his steady pace of swift, powerful thrusts. But you suddenly detach his hands from your body and raise them above his own; your hands holding his wrists down just slightly above his head as an amused smirk reappears on his face and a small “oh?” leaves his lips.

You leave his hands there, slowly dragging your own down his arms and then back down his chest, only for them to land against his tense abs. He looks a bit handsome like this, you think, enjoying the look of amused surprise on his face as you begin to rock your hips. You raise yourself slowly on his length only to then sink back down, feeling his cock eagerly fill you up with every movement of your hips.

You’re much slower than he is, but it’s only so that you can feel every vein, every ridge of his cock against your fluttering walls. And God, does it feel good… Your eyes absentmindedly close as your head slightly falls back, a feeling of overwhelming pleasure overtaking your senses now as your nails lightly dig into his skin. It feels good, you think. It feels too good… it’s almost as though your body was made for him, almost as though nobody could ever make you feel this good again, even if you searched and searched and searched…

“Is that all you got?”

Your eyes snap open and they immediately fall upon the very smug-looking man beneath you. You instantly let out an annoyed sigh– Of course he had to ruin your small moment of bliss. Of course.

You notice him part his lips, most likely getting ready to say something aggravating that will ruin the moment even more– only you don’t let him. No, you quickly take the pillow beside your body and cover his face with it, pushing down lightly as you pick up your pace. You’re almost as relentless as he was a couple of minutes ago, quickly moving your hips against his as you feel anger bubbling up inside of you, wanting nothing more than to take it out on the one person who had caused it. Except, he seems to be enjoying it. No– he seems to be loving it.

He holds his arms out, spreading them far apart and lifting his hands to the air as though he’s worshiping you, as though you’re his God and he’s reveling in your divine beauty.

“Atta girl!” you hear his muffled praises from below the pillow, him seeming to not care in the slightest that his air supply was quickly running out. You lift the pillow from his face and throw it to the ground, instantly noticing the lovesick look in his blue eyes. Not only that, but a lazy smile seems to have found its way onto his blissed-out face, as well; his hands held out in worship now reaching behind his head as his arms rest there in relaxation, him looking just a bit too comfortable for your liking.

“Well… aren’t you gonna do something?” You ask, annoyed with his lack of movement.

“Nah, I think you got it, babe. You’re doin’ such a good job,” he smirks, sending a wink your way as your eyes narrow out of frustration. Insufferable.

You let out a loud, irritated groan–probably your twentieth of the morning–and reach for this throat, squeezing hard in the hopes of wiping that smug smile right off of his face. But it doesn’t disappear. No, it actually gets even wider, for some reason.

“Oh my! Somebody’s got some anger issues…” he grins up at you, only amusement lacing his features now. You want to squeeze harder, you want to reach for the pillow again, you want to do something–anything–just to shut him up. But he doesn’t let you.

He quickly flips you over–much faster and much more elegant than when you had done it–and traps you underneath his body, holding both of your wrists above your head with one hand while his other reaches for your throat, giving it the lightest of squeezes. “Let me show you how it’s done, darling,” he whispers in a low and sultry voice, his breath hot against your skin as you feel the head of his cock prod at your entrance once again.

“Watch and learn.”

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