Synopsis. First time trying to get you pregnant? You’re lucky it’s only one (for now.)
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, bréeding, matíng presses, creampíes, cúmplay, they’re FÉRAL, spítting, manhandIing, p sIapping, p talking, marathons, overstím, making them whímper, CEO!Nanami, good husbands, rough s, fuIl neIsons, Unckuna, GOJO’S POWERS, breaking the bed, running from it, mentions of kids, pet names, swéaring.
A/N. HEHEHEH
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Run!
You’re clawing at the mahogany headboard above you, you’re fisting your dampened sheets. You’re dragging your nails down Toji’s muscular back and the only thing he does is snicker-
“Heh, don’t run, doll. Come back-” You gulp- something he feels under his palm as he grips onto your pretty throat and draaaaags you back into him. Into his hips.
Your overworked bed frame creaks as he’s back to slipping his swollen shaft between your folds. So thick n’ hot—Toji feels you clenching ‘round him and he grins, such a devilish smile. He squeezes your airway when your mouth drops open in a silent moan. “Don’t wanna wake the kids now, do we?”
“N-no…” You’re furiously shaking your head.
Trying your very best to stay quiet with Megumi and Tsumiki down the hall, and Toji right here trying to give them a younger sibling.
Aching till he gives them a younger sibling- “Mmm, d’you want a girl or a boy, mama?”
“Wh-wha–oh fuck.” As if it was even possible, your maw gapes further ajar- maybe at the feeling of him sinking inside even deeper, maybe the feeling of his thick cock bulging even further at his own line of questioning. The mere thought.
But Toji’s taking it all in stride, he’s peering over in his rude mating press so he can purse his scarred lips. Spitting in-between you wobbly lips, “Mmm, does that help, doll?”
And each of his thrusts strike the very end of your pussy, so hard that your head simply can’t stop bobbing and nodding. The sheer recoil.
“Yeah? It does?” He’s teasing anyway, fully knowing the effect he has on you. Toji then hunches back ever-so-slightly, doing the same with your thoroughly wet pussy and listening as your squelching slurps grow even louder after each one of his thrusts. “Mhmmm, worked here, too. Now why don’t you- hah, answer my question, huh? Both of you?”
Both you and your sultry pussy.
You were just ruined. “What question- oh, fuck-” Just because your voice was pitching up shrilly, he’s tightening his hold on your neck.
Planting out a few more solid bashes against your tiniest orifices inside before hissing. “Awww, c’mon- don’t wanna let them hear, remember?” Toji had dipped his voice into something so low, just for you to hear. “Shhhh, my wife. Quiet.”
“Q-quiet.” You nod.
“Cute.” He whispers out, almost like he didn’t mean to. And then Toji’s bludgeoning out a few loooong sloppy drags against your walls, his sappy precum pouring out in waves- he fills you up from the inside and makes it impossible to ignore the sinful noises emanating from your cunt.
Squeezing your throat as if that’ll help- more like he was trying not to fucking cum just from the sheer noises. Holding himself together. His other hand gropes the side of your hips and pulls you back, “Now- quietly, tell me what you want—girl or boy?”
Sobbing, “I don’t- I don’t even-”
“No preference?” He raises a dark brow, hips hitting yours with the pointed smack of skin-on-skin. Hard enough that the skin everywhere on his toned pelvis reddened. Stinging.
And then with a few more vulgar thrusts that leave you completely dumbified, he’s turning his partly-closed eyes down to your glistening wet pussy. Your folds all coated in a sheen of syrup, pried apart as he drills in his girth maddeningly. “Then, what about you, cutie?”
“Wh-who…” It takes you a few sultry seconds to realize that he’s talking down to your pussy. Nodding along to each slurp and clamp like he knew exactly what the puffy core in-between your legs was talking about.
And that’s when Toji chuckles with another wad of his glittery spit hitting your cunt, slipping down as he hums. “She told me she wanted both, mama.”
He sounded so utterly proud of that fact.
And he was fucking you like it, too. Just rough, hard pushes of his crowned cock that make you clench your teeth. Sweat glides down the side of his temple as he jostles you deeper into the mating press, his forehead sticking to yours, shaggy bangs tickling your skin.
Toji’s long, pinkish tongue slips out to lick at the salty dewdrops of tears streaming out of your eyes, and he murmurs. “Then I’ve- hah, I’ve gotta give my lovely wife what she wants, hm? Gotta fuck twins into her now?”
“Sh-shit—” You’re whining out, holding onto the front of your core as you feel heated sparks start to make their way through your every vein. “Twins- oh.”
“Mhm-” And if this was any other moment then he’d be teasing you on just how cute you were when you were dumbified like this. Speechless. “Two of them- gotta make- make Megs a big brother, huh?” Toji spits between your lips in an open-mouthed kiss and rams his bulged, red tip into you so deeply, bottoming out against your cervix and still pushin’ like he wanted to go even deeper. “Two of them…for now.”
“What do you mean f-for now?” You’re squealing stupidly, feeling his prominent veins zig-zag across your g-spot. Making you see white like it took absolutely no effort.
And you didn’t have to think about anything else, of course.
Toji smiles, his overlarge palm pressing down on your front to keep you still as he pumps out one- two- three more thudding hits to both your g-spot and your cervix. And that’s just about all it takes for you to plummet into your high, seeing white - and you’re unsure whether it’s from the raw force of your high, or from Toji’s own splattering orgasm.
He’s shoving his lengthy cock in deep, keeping his geysering orifice angled straight into your womb as he streams out in ivory syrup. Looooooong gluey ribbons that splash ‘round your insides, creating a sticky white layer.
And you’re just fucked - literally.
Through each peak of your high, again and again he pinpoints your most tender crevices just so you’re shaking and cute under his touch. His mating press that he’s slouching you into, his muscular weight leaning in, panted breath scorching the side of your ears.
You could feel Toji stuffing you full all the way to the brim, his probing cock scouring your every hidden spot.
“It m-means, doll-” His voice wavers, and by the dazed look in his eyes, you’re unsure whether he’s talking to you or your pussy still. Thrusting, barely even pulling out, “-that twins are gonna be the last of what you hafta worry about.”
And as he starts sloppily increasing his pace, his palm rovers over to cover your whiny mouth. Before any of your older kids could hear. “So how ‘bout we try for triplets, hm?”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - Dad(dy) material.
“Fuck, darling…” Nanami’s stern lips tremble, and a slick line of drool drips lecherously from one end.
You don’t think he even notices it as he’s slapping the reddened, bulbous end of his cock down between your pussylips. Just letting the creamy liquid of his cum pour out and slide between your folds, “Fuck, you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
And, really, what were you doing to him?
It’d been an off-hand mention of it- honestly. Just a half-joke that his employees had been wondering out loud to you when their all-serious, all-sensible CEO might be having kids. How soft he’d be.
And you can’t deny that the idea intrigued you, as well…
So that’s how you found yourself bent into the meanest mating press possible underneath him. One wooden leg of your bed nearly sagging on one side after so many hours that he had you pliably taking his big, fat cock.
“Oh- oh, I know.” He puffs out through the cracked line of mouth, “You’re gonna make me a daddy aren’t you, my wife?” Just talking so filthy.
“I- shit, so that’s what-”
Breathily, “Mhm, m’fucking addicted. Forgive me, my love. But it seems I can’t- stop-”
And once again and again, he’s pumping out a slippery sheen of his ivory syrup. Coating your pussy from both the inside and the outside before his bulging cockhead starts sinking in again.
“O-oh my god, it feels so—” You’re whining out at how good it feels, just the sheer stretch of his wide circumference rendering your head all dizzy. You claw down Nanami’s muscular back with your head thrown back lewdly, “-shit, are you sure it hasn’t taken yet, Kento?”
“No-” No, he wasn’t sure. Fuck, he doesn’t know if he can even think right now- but his pure, animal instincts just kept on telling him to shovel his rude cock back into your treacly orifice.
He wanted to mold his pure size into you bashin’ against the spongy layer of your cervix until you swear you could feel him poking near your damn lungs. Nanami gulps, pushing up his fogged glasses to see you better. “And neither one of us are walkin’ out of here until it does. I apologize if it gets a little…rough.”
“I already think it’s more than rough right now, ngh—” You sob, your tongue simmering with saliva as he pushes in.
“Oh yeah?” And if you didn’t know any better than you’d have said that your husband almost sounded proud about that fact. “So does that mean you can take even more, darling…?”
Your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, “Wh-what do you mean- oh.”
Then Nanami’s flipping the two of you over so that his ripped body is laid out on his back. Your unstable legs straddling his waist, your glistening cunt leaving a snailtrail of slick n’ cum that makes both of you shiver. Dripping wet. Overspilling.
And before you can get out another word - another syllable - he’s fucking up into you from beneath. Long, dragging glides of his veiny shaft up n’ down your walls- “Dinner-” He pecks your lips sweetly, “-and a show, hm?”
You sob, your voice hitching at the back of your throat at the way his plump, puckered cockhead was scouring every inch inside you. Harder. Faster. “Sh-shit you’re reaching even deeper like this, baby.”
“I know.” Nanami gruffly responds- another innocent kiss, another bash of his rock-hard cock. And his roughened palm slides down your front, almost as if he was soothing the mess he’s making of you from the inside, from above. “Tha’s the entire point, my wife. And you can, mmm, take it, right? You can t-take my cock?”
“I- oh.”
“Yeahhhh, of course you can. Don’t tap out yet, darling. If we really wan’ our daughter—” He’s cooing, pressing down lightly on the inflated bulge he’d fucked into you. Your puffy pussy was just sopping wet, “Look, she’s almost there. Just gotta give me a daughter, honey. Just oooone more f’me, alright?”
“O-one?”
“Mhm—”
At that point you can only bawl out your noises of pleasure, Nanami Kento had made you orgasm for each and every round he’d spent trying to breed your pretty cunt.
And he’s not going to let that stop.
He’s thrusting his plump cock up into you even harder, he’s muttering underneath his breath fucking baby names as he did so. He’s letting your ajar maw bite down onto one of his strong, veined forearms, muffling out. “Please- one more o-one more-”
Again and again.
As Nanami spurts out a milky line of precum that dribbles into your womb, you’re feeling yourself topple over the edge- a high that you didn’t even see coming.
And you ride out your wave of bliss as best you can on top of him. Of course, your husband’s always there to help, too– always there to push his blushin’ tip against your sweetest spots, always dragging out your zapping high with his strokes.
But your poor pussy was so overstimulated by this point that this high doesn’t last as long as your first few did. Just a startling flash of euphoria that leaves your thighs quaking in its aftermath.
You blink down tearily just in time to catch the way that Nanami’s lips gape, all your clenching n’ trembling having left your pussy sploshing out a few of the wads of cum he’d fucked in before. He rovers his thumb down the line of your slit, pushing a few of them in, hooking the edge inside and making your head throw back.
“Well…” He starts off- and not only is he making your ears buzz with his filthy promises, Nanami pounds up into you at an even more accelerating pace of his pummeling length. He reaches over in mere nanoseconds towards your bedside table. Quickly producing his formal work tie that he uses to pin your wrists back, tying.
“I can’t promise that it’ll be only one more.” Nanami puffs out in confession, pussydrunken eyes nearly fluttering shut, cock flinching. Still rock-hard. “How about…two kids, my darling?”
♡ GETO SUGURU - HARD
Geto Suguru was fucking you hard.
Rough.
And you didn’t know what to do other than smack your hand down on the top of your bed’s headboard and hold on for dear life. A thin layer of perspiration on your skin leaving you slippin’ with your grip.
You try to hike your thighs up higher, almost as if in an attempt to run from the bludgeoning fatness of his girth. All slicked up with syrup n’ cum from the rounds prior and pushing against your every drivelling orifice-
“Ah ah-” Geto’s thoroughly hoarse voice from above echoes against your ears, enough to send shivers skittering down your spine before he’s attaching one hand to your throat and pulling you back. “Where are we going, gorgeous?”
“I don’t-” You’re hiccuping out, sobs cracking at the back of your throat. “I don’t even know-”
He gruffly chuckles, planting his pierced slit all ‘round your insides. That Prince Albert’s piercing of his was just so sinfully cold against your heated insides. “Mhmm, because you’re going nowhere, riiight?”
“Y-yes- fuck!”
Honestly, it was just so cute how you were fucked dumb after all these hours. After all this time past that one cult meeting where a member had mentioned a successor to the mantle of leader—and, after you, Geto had briefly entertained the idea of…an heir.
One that was constantly being illustrated in his mind as he’s plummeting his long, veiny cock into you. Such a sloppy staccato that slaps n’ slaps his thighs against yours, his v-line against your ass.
His reddened tip swabbing wetly across your cervix and- and you could feel him throb primally at the thought of fucking an heir into you. His pretty pink lips curving up into a smile, “Good.” Softly - almost mockingly kissing the side of your head - he whispers. “Because you’re not leaving this bed unless s’carrying my child, my wife.”
Fuck- you two weren’t even married, yet. Merely engaged.
So overstimulated by now that he couldn’t stop himself from babbling, each jackhammer of his more vicious than the last. He sticks his veined shaft against the roof of your cunt and heads directly for your g-spot, where he could feel you clenching after each sloppy drag.
“Remember- remember, the momma’s gotta cum, too.” Geto giggles out, his long raven hair tickling down your spine. “One more f’me, gorgeous.”
You shrill out, “I don’t- fuck! I don’t even know if I can-”
“And I don’t, either.” That lil’ strawberry-colored divot on the middle of his cockhead flinches, more and more wispy strings of precum pouring out each second.
But that didn’t stop him. Wouldn’t.
And his extended, slender fingerpads slide between your wet pussylips. Latching onto your sensitive clit, he rolls his thumb over it a few times- sending sparks simmering from between your jittery legs. “But that’s not gonna stop me. C’mon, gorgeous, don’t you wanna make me a daddy?”
“I-I—”
“Don’t you wanna give me a lil’ daughter that looks juuuust like you?” He’s spitting from between the gaps of his snarl. “A lil’ cutie to spoil? To doll up? To cook for? To take to school while you rest, my wife?”
You’re moaning, bulbous tears streaming down your cheeks at this point from how roughly you were being manhandled underneath him. How much of his cum was sploshing ‘round inside. How sensitive you were.
Geto has one hand on your hips to help you fuck back into him after the recoiling force of his thrusts, his other holding onto your neck and further dragging you backwards. Further tuggin’ on your limp body so he can let your maw hang ajar, so he can spit. “S-so that—” He grunts, as if he was continuing his conversation from just earlier, as if you weren’t just dizzy on his cock already. Limbs twitching. “-so that your husband can come home then n’...fuck another one into you?”
He was just so filthy.
And maybe it’s his words, maybe it’s the way he’s fucking you precisely like he means those words- but you’re then bursting into your nth high of the night.
So ruined on his aching, raving cock that you can’t do anything but whimper out a little- “Y-yes, please- yes…fuck! M’cumming.” You’re sobbing as you do so, the peaks of your orgasm feeling more like sudden surges of electricity.
Just mere tingles by now—but they take over your clouded mind so sinfully that you barely even notice the way that Geto’s cumming, too.
The curvaceous edge of his crown flinches just a bit, puckered up against the very door to your womb as he reaches his orgasm. Twitching once. Twice. Thrice. Before his shaft lets out nothing but the tiniest white droplet of cum - Geto Suguru was cumming dry.
And he was losing his mind over the fact.
One hand of his lifting off of your neck and slithering down to his heavy, oversensitive balls. He’s massaging them lightly, just squeezing out any drop of his sappy seed he could into your cunt.
Unable to fill you up, he stirs around his clingy wads of cum from before. Coating your cute innards in a gloss of white, Geto groans, “Milked me all dry, didn’t you? Fuh-fuck, we really are gonna make such a cute lil’ daughter, gorgeous.”
And then he’s pulling out with the loudest, more lecherous squelch that you’ve ever heard in your life.
Quickly plugging up your tired orifice with his fingerpads as he flips you over with one hand. Geto pushes back in the sheeny film of slick n’ cum that dribbled out of your pussy, and then throws your legs over his broad, muscular shoulders.
Your thighs against his washboard abs, his pecs. Your knees hitting your sore tits.
You’ve barely enough brain cells at the moment to realize that Geto had pushed you into a damn mating press.
And you swear your skin gets hit with a barrage of his too-sensitive tears. His lips softly pecking yours, he swabs his overstimulated cock back inside. Inside and inside, he fills you up filthily with his glazed length- so long that it’s like he was never-ending.
One of his palms comes down to lovingly pat your tummy- now inflated with so much cum filled up. Smirking, “But I g-guess there’s only one way to make sure, huh, my wife?”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - “B-breeding kink?”
Your boyfriend stares up at you cutely; his long lashes blinking, just the top half of his face visible over where he’d stuffed himself in your tits, body draped above.
“Mhmmm—” You’re purring out- and maybe it’s the tone of your voice, maybe it’s the way you’re staring at him, but he simply can’t help but rut his half-hardened cock against your thighs already. “I think you have a breeding kink, Cho.”
A furious blush coats his handsome cheekbones, “Of course not.” He mumbles, staring away as he’s brushin’ his bulged erection against your wetting core. “So are you saying I want to b-breed you…?”
“Exactly.”
“That’s ridiculous, baby.” Grumbling, he’s pushing himself further into your mounds of flesh. Letting his spit-drivelled mouth open up to catch on one of your nipples and suck. “I don’t want to get you…well, I wouldn’t mind…if I did, ngh-”
“F-fuck, Choso.” You’re whining, feeling his heated length start twitching wildly against your entrance.
And he’s still babbling away to himself, still unaware- “Though, I do want kids, I…” Moving on pure animal instinct. “I would then hafta fuck this pretty pussy all p-pregnant first, wouldn’t I?”
And before you know it (before even he knows it) he’s just barely smearin’ apart your panties- and with it, your puffy folds. Letting the large, bulbous end of his shaft ease inside with a sigh.
It’s just so natural having his incredible size fill you up like this, and you can feel your thighs quiver. Hips starting to buck for more n’ more friction that he easily stops with a hand running down your front.
Feeling for his thick cylindrical outline as he sinks iiiiiinside–“Y-you, oh.” And then Choso’s snapping his woozy head down to stare at just how glistening wet you were just from the conversation prior. Jus thow rock-fucking-hard he was. “This doesn’t prove, ngh, anything…”
“Mhmm—” You’re fluttering your lashes up at him, just the way he likes.
And oh, if you were going to play it that way then he could, too. Suddenly thrusting in just a few more of his solid inches, his puckered cockhead swabs your gooey insides and leaves you reeling.
“S-see?” Choso wrenches out a primal groan from the back of his throat, pushin’ your pussylips so far apart to take his sheer girth that it makes you whine. The sheer raw stretch making you see stars. “I don’t have a ngh, breeding kink.”
His hand then flattens down further on top of your stomach, putting pressure on where his ruddied, swollen shaft was spearing through. “I don’t wanna f-fill you up until it-” Harder. “-leaks out of you. I don’t wanna-”
You nearly don’t hear the rest of his sentence because he’s hitting you with a sloppy jackhammer so hard that it makes your eardrums pop!
But, luckily for you, it seemed that Choso was struggling, too. Having trouble enunciating his words so he had to gnaw down on the insides of his cheek to murmur, “-don’t wanna kiss that pretty womb of yours with my, mmm, cock.” Faster. His heavy balls clench, “Don’t wanna give you a kid or two or four or…” And a thin line of drool slides down the side of his lips. “Seven.”
Seven?
And it felt like Choso was completely and utterly pussydrunk by now.
Not even bottomed-out yet, but he was still probin’ into you again and again with his rapid, aching half-thrusts. Like every second he wasn’t inside you hurt him, and so the only thing he could do was to push apart your sheeny thighs further and let his flared cocktip kiss every ounce of your insides.
You put your hands on top of where one of his was mapping out his mazin’ girth, on top of your tummy. And that makes him think…
Every cubic centimeter of his scraping with his puffy veins - somehow needier than usual for some reason - and it made his mind wander to an image of you all round n’ glowing with pregnancy.
With his kid.
“F-fuck.”
Choso’s husky voice breaks, and you think that you might as well. Because in that very moment he’s slamming his toned hips into yours, explosive, just like the way he’s hitting the back of your syrupy pussy with a sudden pap! of skin-on-skin.
Bottomed-out.
Filling you out
Cumming—and he doesn’t know whether it’s from having all your velvety walls surrounding every inch of him, or whether he was simply too far gone on the thought of breeding you all sloppy. But he thinks he’s squirting out the hardest orgasm of his entire life, and he’s not even stopping to register it for longer than a split-second before he’s fucking every creamy wad inside you.
Again and again.
His slick, slobbering orifice sticks into your tiniest crevices and fills them up with so much of his ivory syrup. And each time you’re trying to bounce your hips upwards to meet him, Choso only pins you down and makes you take it.
Every single drop.
“Fine, m-maybe-” He sheepishly whines out, and you catch one side of his puffy lips tilt upwards. And almost as if to muffle his embarrassment, he throws himself back in-between the valley of your tits. “Maybe I do have a breeding kink, baby.” He admits.
That was understating it.
He was fucking you like he’s trying to leave you speechless, leave you pregnant. With his veiny cock swatting every side of your walls and stirring your sweet insides, he’s bruising himself against the doorway to your womb.
And oh- you’re suddenly realizing that the way he’s suckling on your sensitive areolas might not be out of shyness after all. But rather a temptation to see whether he’d be able to draw milk.
“T-told you so—” You’re mewling out through the slight gasps and spanks of his cock thrashing against your cervix. “Told you you have a breeding kink, baby.”
His furious cock twitches at the very words. The entire length of him stuffing you so good that you were overspilling gluey white ringlets of his own cum.
Ones that he can’t stand to see go to waste.
Ones that he’s reaching down to plug back in with his doughy fingertips, Choso brushes his ringed digits against your clit just as he does so. “So…about those seven kids, my baby…”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - UNC?!
Ryomen Sukuna didn’t think it would affect him so much.
In fact, he didn’t even think it would affect him at all. Why should it?
It was just your average stroll in your average store on an average day babysitting that damn brat (Yuji.) That’s when an elderly couple had cooed at your ‘little family’ and told Sukuna that his ‘son’ looked just like him…
…and that’s when Sukuna nearly left Yuji at the store to drag you home- dropping the kid off at Jin’s before he hauled you back to your apartment, splintered the door with how fast he shut it, pushed you down on the fucking threshold right then and there.
“F-fuck, ngh-” You’re gasping, your fingers gripping the carpeted floor as he’s nudgin’ aside your skirt and panties. “Kuna, what’s gotten into- hngh.” And whatever sentence on the tip of your tongue withers at the feeling of him spitting out a fat wad of saliva that slicks down your pussylips.
Smearin’ it right down your crevice before he leans in- washboard abs against your back, mouth by your ear. “Nothing.” The globed end of his rock-hard cock kissing your entrance wetly.
Just loooong slips n’ slides that make you moan at the feeling of his wet precum webbing up your orifice. “B-but it can’t be nothing because you’re so-”
“S-said it’s nothing, brat.” And, oh, did he just stutter?
You have no clue- because the very next moment, Sukuna’s shoving in the throbbing girth of his cock. Letting his plump, creaming tip swab its way through your insides, he’s so damn swollen with need that your walls stretch out maddeningly.
And, before you know it, he’s drilling into you like a madman.
“Oh- oh-” The side of your cheek presses against the floor, spit drooling out in a puddle underneath. And each time he’s carressin’ your soft walls with his veins it makes your voice whimper out shrilly. “No something’s- hck! something’s happened-”
“Nothing’s happened…” He’s groaning out, forcefully pressing his weight into you from behind so that his honed divot drags across the roof of your cunt n’ splits you greedily open.
Fuck- he could feel just how wet you were getting with how much deeper he went. Even deeper.
Again and again.
Long, rapid strokes that set your teeth on edge every time you’re feeling the thickened, solid inches of his cock. And, sure, your boyfriend was rude and he fucked even ruder- but right now, it was in such rapid-fire strokes that your eyes damn near popped out of your sky. “There’s- mmm, there’s definitely something.” You just didn’t know why; harder than usual, more feverish.
A particularly hard jackhammer that leaves your mind dizzy at the volume of squishy, syrupy precum swirlin’ around your insides. “Ya think?”
If you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that he was fucking you almost animalistically. He pounds you into the ground like he’s trying to make your body remember the pattern of the carpet- unable to even make it to the bed- unable to even tease you as he usually would.
Unable to do anything but glue his swole, sweetened tip against your cervix and watch you whine. “Oh- oh my god-”
“Heh, ‘Kuna’s’ just fine, mama.” Ah, there was his usual mean talk. But you can’t help but note that something in his gruff baritone sounded more…raspy. More ruined.
And Sukuna’s biting his pearly-white canines into the shell of your ear like he’s trying to stop that lecherous tremble of his voice. Trying to stop himself from speaking his next words- “Or- or how’d you think about- hah…the father of your kids?”
“Oh-” Spittle drips from your mouth like a gloss now. And your jaw drops as your fuzzy brain finally connects the dots: of what occurred at the store just earlier, and…this.
The way that Sukuna’s large, bulging tip throbs at the mere idea. He’s catching the realization in your hazed peripherals and shovelling his long cock into you even deeper to stop you from saying a word about him. “Yeah? Yeah? Ya like that- hah, idea, brat?” He’s hissing, grumbling. “So what if I fuck a kid into ya, hm? One that looked just like me?”
Your entire body shivers, goosebumps raising at the notion. “Sh-shit is that what you want, Kuna?” Babbling stupidly, your pupils criss-cross with every sloppy drag of his prolonged length. “To get me pregnant now?”
“What I want?”
Something in the way he says it almost makes it sound like he’s seething. Like he’s in disbelief, Sukuna thrusts up into you so hard that the curve of his ballsack hits your treacly cunt with a pointed thwack!
And he’s poking into you so deeeeeply, longingly bruising his vein-covered shaft against your every hidden cranny. “Mama- oh, mama, you have no fucking idea.” Then he holds onto your waist and angles your hips just right to smack-smack-smack your g-spot with his flared ridge. “I don’t wanna just get ya pregnant, silly girl.”
“Oh- ngh.”
“I can’t stop until I get ya pregnant.” Manhandling your spine to arch into his plush, puckered pecs. It wasn’t just enough to have his cock repeatedly bashing in your womb, he snaked up one hand and bent you backwards into him. So your head lolled behind you, and his mouth crashed into yours- “I need to. Need to fill you all up. Fuck you all full with my first kid. Have you be called ‘mama.’ To have a cute lil’ son that looks, heh, just like me. I can’t- can’t—”
The globular crown of his shaft pulses, hotly-red and glistening with so much of your slick. Wadded pre that streams out in place of cum (for now.) One of his hands slither down to cup your slickly glimmering pussy, pinching your clit with thick fingerpads.
“S-soon we’ll have to go back to the store.” Letting off a splosh of stringy precum that spurts out with a primal squelch. Almost a premonition.
“W-we do?”
And then he’s letting out a small gurgling sound that nearly sounded like a whimper. “Mhm, in about nine months so they’ll really be able to see my kid.”
♡ INO TAKUMA - Quiet ones…
“M-maybe a son with your personality, pretty.” Ino drawls out, spittle lining his pouty, puffy mouth. “And a d-daughter with my cursed energy- oh, maybe another son, too…”
You don’t know what’s gotten into him.
But he’s certainly pumping himself into you, again and again. With his ruddied, glistening tip swabbin’ your tight orifices- and after each stroke he only seemed to be getting more honest. More pussydrunk.
Gurgling out primally from the back of his throat, “And then oh, I hope they all have your p-pretty eyes and your pretty smile.” Ino damn near giggles euphorically at the thought, his hands groping underneath your ass cheeks to pull you in closer. “But they’d be the cutest kids ever if they look anything like you, sweetness.”
“Oh, f-fuck, Taku—” You’re throwing your head back, nails digging into where they were clasped on his deltoids. “You’re so serious-”
“I am.” Leaning in. Gravely. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
You’re struggling to get out, through the sheer pressurized force of his constant hits. And they were just so accurate, too, just spearheading against your g-spot with the globed edge of his shaft. “I th-thought you were hah- half-joking-”
“I’m dead fucking serious, pretty.” Ino’s molten eyes widen, pink lips tilting upwards. “You’re not leaving this bed until I get you pregnant.”
That’s what it was - that’s what it was supposed to be. Just a joke where you’d pondered out loud that you n’ him would make some cute kids.
You just didn’t think it’d end up with you in a damn mating press of all things- with your limp limbs sliding down the small of his toned waist. Ones that he’s promptly pulling upwards even tighter, shovelling his bulging tip with a wet thwack! “Yeah…cute…the cutest kids.” Almost like a damn mantra, he’s repeating it over and over.
He could already see it - with you all round n’ glowing, or you holding a kid that looked like the perfect mixture of the two of you, you underneath him trying to stay quiet as you beg for another one-
“O-oh-” His sweaty head drops, falling into the crook of your neck with a groan. And Ino’s gliding a hand down your front, his pearly whites biting into your skin just to stop himself from cumming right then and there. “Have you thought about baby names a-already?”
“Baby names?” Your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, “Right now?”
“Mhmmm, we’re gonna need enough for every kid m’gonna fuck into ya, pretty.” Ino’s large brown eyes nearly beg, plead.
He’s fucking upwards into you like he’s daring you to get a word in edgewise, just planting the cutest squelching kisses at the back of your pussy. Once. Twice. Thrice. “And t-trust me-” So pussydrunk by now that he couldn’t stop stuttering, he presses down on that lil’ tummy bulge he was fucking into you. “-we’re gonna need a lot of baby names.”
You didn’t doubt it.
Not one single bit. Ino’s swollen, ruddied tip squirts out a few lines of precum that wetly wash down the sides of your cunt, dribbling out in a glistening ring across his base. “And I take it that y-you’ve already picked out a few?”
“Oh, sweetness, I’ve picked out about ten.” He’s murmuring- more to himself as he runs through a few: Hikaru? Ayumi? He’s going through his list and reaching about Kaoru before he’s catching the way your mouth shapes around the name voicelessly.
As if you were in disbelief- oh, was he saying all that out loud?
He doesn’t feel a single shred of regret at that. In fact, he’s only tunneling his long, veiny cock into you even further to dumbify you enough to stop you from thinking, spank after spank of his incredible hips that leave your eyes heart-shaped, and your mouth drooling.
To which he softly kisses the dampened corner of your lips, and then spits.
“But, of course- you’ll be the one p-picking them out, sweetness.” Lovingly cooing down at you, Ino grits his teeth as he feels your clamping get even greedier. Needier. Closer. Almost until it was hard for him to pull out after each recoiling thump against your cervix, “Momma’s always gonna have first pick after, hngh, all.”
He’s then slithering a free hand down to pinch your perky clit, sending sparks running up your spine.
You’re bawling from both pairs of your lips, “I-is that so?”
“Mhmm—you don’t have to worry ‘bout a thing. Okay, pretty?” Just drawling out, with sloppy drag after drag that he’s honing out to hit your sweetest spots perfectly. “Just gotta t-take everything I give-” At that very moment he’s splashin’ out a particularly voluminous wad of buttery pre.
Letting it swirl around in time with the way he rolls circles on the top of your clit. Again and again.
Ino plugs up the end of your pussy with all his syrup- as if a precursor for something more, something later. “Just gotta get p-pregnant. And then m’gonna take gooood care of you, pretty. Gonna massage you, spoil you, soothe you, anything you e-ever want. Take care of our lil’ ones, too.” And then he’s hitting your g-spot so hard, your clit so hard in a sudden spank. “And then m’gonna hafta ask you for another, please?”
He’s asking you for another while not even having become a father to your first.
Yet.
And at that very moment you’re hitting your sudden high, Ino’s cock pumping a few splatters of creamy cum as you do. Again and again and again- he’s been holding back for soooo fucking long. And he can focus on making your high the best it’s ever been on your next round- right now, he’s more concentrated on stuffing every inch of your womb with his cobwebs of cum.
Splattered everywhere, drenching the sheets underneath in an ivory puddle as you clench.
You feel him hit your g-spot at a precise peak of your own orgasm and you gasp- “I-I think it might just- ngh-” Feeling his sploshing waves dribble in and out, get thrusted furiously in and out. “-have taken…really.”
“Oh?” Ino pants, his hazy eyes nearly closed in his bursting high. And even as he fucks you thoroughly through your wave of bliss n’ leans back, you could still feel the ribbons of his sap stream outwards. Like it’s never-ending. “S’that so? Good.”
And lovingly - so lovingly - Ino plummets his bulbous cocktip against your womb.
“So…baby names?”
♡ GOJO SATORU - HEIR!
“G-get pregnant-”
“Toru, ngh-”
“Fuck, I need you to get pregnant, sweetheart.” In the dimness of your bedroom (the lights had long since shattered, the power in this entire ward of Tokyo gone) Gojo leans in and you swear the sides of his blue eyes have lightning bolts flickering out of them.
Pure fucking desperation.
He’s caressing his trembling hand down your body first and then his, letting the cool wave of reverse cursed energy mend any injuries possible. And he utters- “I don’t just want it.” Even closer. “I need it.”
Something at the back of the strongest’s voice breaks, and you feel goosebumps take over your skin.
“F-fuck.”
Gojo’s plump, reddened tip sticks against the doorway to your womb for a second, and his pupils flare even wider as he’s taking it alllllll in with the power of his Six Eyes. “Oh, it hasn’t taken yet, sweetheart.”
“Still not yet?” You’re moaning out, feeling a little crazed. Because it’s simply been hours by now. Hours. And you have half the mind to knock at the doors of all those elders that put the idea of an heir into his mind, and tell them to deal with Gojo Satoru gone…feral.
Absolutely rutting, he’s pushin’ his wide cockhead into your cervix and letting off a crazed giggle at the way the poor end of your pussy bruises. You whisper, “S-Satoru?”
He jolts like he’d just heard your voice.
And then he looks up-
Oh.
Fuck.
His eyes. Ravenous. You were never letting him attend another jujutsu society meeting ever again.
You’re limp under his superhuman strength, and it’s like Gojo doesn’t even realize just how harshly he’s holding onto you. Manhandling you down. Bending you into such a filthy fucking mating press that it makes your heart race, with your knees hitting your tits and Gojo’s maw catching yours in an open-mouthed kiss.
“It hasn’t taken yet, sweetheart.” He’s hissing out like a broken record, nose crinkling at the sudden clench of your velvety walls.
And before you can gurgle out a single word, he’s pumping his ravaged, aching shaft inside. Hitting your womb with a sudden bang! It sets your teeth on edge and your fists curling in on themselves.
Only for him to push again and again and again, you swear he’s hammering out just about three thrusts in one sultry second. And his pink orifice drivels out a line of creamy sap that adds to the mess sploshin’ inside you. “Hasn’t taken yet, hasn’t taken yet h-hasn’t…”
Reverse cursed energy buzzing once more as he’s pressing a hand down on top of your cumflated tummy and feeling.
“Still hasn’t taken n’ I n-need to-” And then he’s softly rolling his thumb over your clit as he usually would - usually. Except, this time, he’s letting his jujutsu go wild sending vibrations through your sensitive nub.
You’re sobbing out at the pure force of his thrusts, every passing second making you feel more and more light-headed. “Satoru, are you even okay?”
“Do I look okay, my wife?” Gojo’s snowy brows pinched, something crazed behind his dilated pupils. And he’s genuinely asking you for an answer, genuinely letting his strong body twitch any time you’re letting off a pretty noise, as if that was enough to overstimulate him even more than his constant rutting.
Animalistic.
Half-gone, he’s squirting out a wad of webbed precum and nearly whines as he watches the slick line trail towards the entrance to your womb. All puddled up at the end of your cervix- “Sh-shit, and you’re telling me it s-still hasn’t taken, Toru?” After so long? After so many hours?
After Gojo’s practically rubbin’ his long, aching cock raw on your slippery folds.
“Well, n-not yet…” And there was something about the way he said it that makes your pussy clamp down on his rovering, thickened cock. Your husband takes it headlong like he predicted it- and you’re wondering if he actually did have that power, unlocking an entire new side to him, once he raises his free set of slender fingers and starts counting.
You whimper, feeling your thighs shake uncontrollably, “Wh-what are you…”
“Just watch, sweetheart.” Staring right through your womb like he thought you could see, too. He’s timing a countdown under his breath—“One.”
Clamoring for purchase on any point of his sculptured body, his shoulders, his tensed abs. “Shit- shit, it feels so-”
“Two.”
You’re throwing your head back with a strangled squeal, his targeted vision making it so easy for Gojo to press against your sweetest spots. To push. To pump. To—”Three”—send you over the edge.
Your high bursts out like never before- each one stronger than the last, and Gojo’s just carnally pushin’ you through each wave of bliss. They’re taking over you until you can see nothing but white, your entire body left at his damn mercy.
“It- it-” And Gojo could see every peak of it, so he was accurately bashin’ you in whenever it mattered the most. Again and again.
Loooong, probing strikes- so many, so hard that he barely even realizes when he’s reaching his high too. For the strongest - the all-seeing - he couldn’t even register that.
Not until his creamy seed drips out of you in pearly dewdrops, slathering the tops of your folds in a gluey few layers. He lets it all slosh ‘round inside of you, purposefully making the filthiest mess that soaks his curly white happy trail and leaves his skin glistening.
More and more and more.
So many miry ribbons of it that you feel plugged full, a second coating of sap taking over your cunt. It just felt so good to have his liquid heat filling you up like this.
And then Gojo glides his hand down your front and flinches- “Oh.” You look up at him. “It took.”
“O-oh-” Before you have the time to properly register it, Gojo raises his slick-glazed fingers in the air and snaps them once. And as soon as you blink, you’re realizing that you’d changed positions- that you’d ended up with your back against his prominent pecs, your head against his collarbone, his back against the sheets, strong arms under your thighs.
You’d found yourself in a full nelson now - his cum pouring out of you like a fountain, Gojo’s eyes still locked on your tummy from behind.
Analyzing.
Did…did he just teleport the two of you? You don’t think he even realized-
Wrecked.
Gojo Satoru sounded absolutely, positively wrecked as he speaks, “So…d’you wanna find out whether we’re having a daughter or a son, my wife?”
♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Strict parent
“So, we think I’ll be the strict parent and you’ll be the-”
“Sh-shit, Hiromi-”
“Awww, now I have to start again, angel.” The dark-haired man nearly pouts - mockingly, with his fingers ruthless on your clit.
For just about the nth time that night, he’s halting his motions just before your oncoming orgasm. Edging and edging you to the brink of your high- and then immediately taking his roughened fingertips off of your sensitive nub.
And you swear you can nearly sob, straddling Higuruma’s muscular waist and attempting to pathetically bounce your hips backwards into his rovering digits, his cock. At a standstill as he babbled away his dreams of having a child with you- getting you pregnant.
All after that damned fight at Shinjuku that left his life flashing before his very eyes. And him realizing that one of his very favorite moments was one that hadn’t happened yet - having a cute lil’ family with you.
Higuruma lets his thumb slide up your folds, parting them easily to push down on the button of your clit. He’s watching as you cutely squirm, “Anyway- guess I’ll be the strict part, hm? And you can be the cutie that spoils them.”
“Yes- yes-” You’re whimpering, breath hitching as his globular mushroom tip starts thrusting upwards. “Please, baby-”
“Orrrr I dunno—” He’s meanly drawling out, “-guess you’re too spoiled yourself, hm? Like-” Dark, glistening eyes dipping downwards to gaze upon where your flooded orifice was being stretched out just right. “-this?”
And just then he’s fucking up into you. Hard.
The entire length of his long, veiny cock reaching for the roof of your pussy, his globed shaft presses deep against the cervix of your cunt and then some. Then drag-drag-draaaagging down to let your tight hole feel his sensitive slit.
Again.
And again. And again and again and again- you’re just seeing stars on the needy cadence of his cock. “Please- yes yes yes yes just like that-”
“What did I say about being spoiled, hm?” He’s raising a dark brow in amusement, lightly swatting your clit in punishment. “My needy angel-” Another spank. “Needy pussy.”
You’re huffing, throwing your arms over his shoulders and letting your hands run through his short raven hair. “And whose fault is that?”
“Ah ah- getting too mouthy-” Another - harder this time, and yet, not even a fraction of his strength. He was simply rendering your head woozy, with your hips bouncing back restlessly into his cock. “-unless ya don’t want to cum, sugar…”
“I do, I do!” Panicked, you attempt to gnaw down on the insides of your cheek to stop all the back-talk, just in case he decided that this next orgasm was a good time to stop, too. To edge you.
But, of course, Higuruma can’t have that, either.
And faster than you can register, he’s jerking his muscular thighs upwards at a constant pace to help bounce you along. Hitting the globes of your ass against his slowly-reddening pelvis with a plap! “Then again…” He’s grinning, “-how fun it is to make you beg, my angel.”
“You’re just- hck!” Babbling out as he swipes his thumb between your pussylips, tender strokes of your clit suddenly turning into the rudest bashes. “-just plain mean, Hiromi.”
“That I am, sugar.”
And he was fucking you like it, too.
Like he was going insane any second he wasn’t deep inside you and throbbing his red, thickened cockhead against the start of your womb. If he wasn’t making you feel every inch of him - leaving your brain devoid of any thoughts but ones with him, you, n’ a kid that looked like a mix of the two of you.
Your tastebuds sizzle with spittle as he pokes against your g-spot, perfectly having mapped you out. And you shake once he does a lecherous lil’ slip and slide to rub down it perfectly, “Sh-shit I’m just so- ngh! close.”
“Oho?” His face darkens into something more predatory, “So…if you wanna cum then tell me what parent m’gonna be?” Just teasing you.
He almost didn’t expect you to prattle out with your spit-slicked lips, “The- the mean one.” Needily annoyed, because your orgasm was so close- and yet, he was slightly slowing down his pace, just to watch the way you greedily bounced back into him. “I just- hah, fuck! You’re gonna be the one that ngh, gets all huffy about homework and curfews and—”
“And?”
Entranced. Hypnotized by that drunken look in your eyes, the way your pupils seemed to turn into hearts whenever he hit that one spot just right. “N’ still love ‘em soooo much that you beg me for another.”
“Fuck.”
And you were damn right, too.
For that—you’re being given another few spanks onto your cunt, hard enough that you’re letting your head loll backwards. Taken over by so much pleasure that you’re hurtling straight towards your long-awaited high.
Flashes of it taking you by surprise, your body shakes on top of his as he pounds you viciously through it. Holding you through each peak- “Yeah- yeahhhh, cum f’me then. Since you deserve it so much-” Yet another spank, “-spoiled angel.”
Echoing his very same words from before, you’re way too drunk on his cock to realize when Higuruma’s letting his back shift further down the bed. Pushing your face into his puffy, prominent pecs, and his weepy cock just bursting with the first few droplets of his cum into your womb.
Rough thrusts, rougher pushes of his wettened dollops of seed.
Higuruma’s lips break out with the meanest grin, “And now, for the fun part.” As his syrupy warmth, wads of slick cum start to fill you up, he whispers. “You’re gonna make the best momma.”
A/N. Apologies for the slight lateness babygirls G*ogle D*cs tried to delete this TWICE-
A/n: He’s got an unhealthy amount of obsession with your tail… 𑣲₍ ᐢ. .ᐢ₎
Pairing: Caleb x Bunnygirl!Reader ☆ 18+
SFW:
Messes with your bunny tail a lot. Loves to give it a soft squeeze whenever you’re least expecting—while he walks past, while you’re lounging around the house, or even while you’re in the shower (he sneaks into the bathroom and gives you a fright).
As long as your tail is within view, Caleb’s reaching over to cup a handful. (And it’ll always be within his sights… as if he’d ever take his eyes off you, silly bunny.)
It’s mostly to annoy you, he loves that your tail’s sensitive and that it incites such a reaction. He’d never be too rough with you though. It’s never to hurt, only to tease. But sometimes he treats it as a stress toy.
Loves having you sit in his lap, chest to chest, legs around his waist. He squeezes and fondles your tail with one hand, while he occupies himself doing fleet work with the other.
Clicks his tongue when you eventually get bored/stiff and shift in your seat, telling you to “Be good f’me, just a little longer.”
Tugs on your ears and tail when he wants to get your attention. He’ll apologise when you nip at his fingers angrily, but he’s back to being a nuisance within the hour.
NSFW:
Gets you a carrot vibe (he doesn’t care that it’s a little too on the nose). At first it’s just for fun, but the more he uses it on you, the more his carrot-themed collection grows. (If you look like you’re enjoying the toys too much though, he gets jealous.)
We know Caleb’s an eater, he could stay between your thighs forever if you’d just let him. But while he’s down there, he also loves to kiss where your tail meets your lower back <3
Calls you his sweet bunny while you’re getting fucked silly. When he’s about to cum, he’ll use your ears to pull your face close to his, so he can kiss you.
In general, I think that Caleb has a sort of predator/prey kink. He loves tracking and hunting you down… you being a bunny girl intensifies that by tenfold. Would bring you somewhere secluded, giving you a head start to run off… but even with your heightened bunny senses, you never seem to see him coming.
Same goes with his breeding kink. On a normal (human) basis he already loves filling you up and keeping you full of his cum, but as a bunny girl? He’s crazy about breeding you.
when you walk into the living room, damp hair soaking the shoulders of your boyfriend's overpriced black t-shirt and your plush thighs on full display, satoru gojo doesn't even raise his head from the instagram reel he's watching.
you stop in front of him, waiting for a long moment as sabrina carpenter plays over his iphone speaker. you even wait until the song loops, but then he just swipes to the next video, another overplayed track starting up.
"satoru."
he lets out a hum, finally raising his pretty blue eyes from his phone screen. he smiles softly at you and sets his phone aside. "hey, sweets. how was your shower?"
"good."
"yeah? you look so pretty." he places his large, warm hands on your hips and gently guides you to step between his long legs. "smell good, too. could just eat you up," he teases, eyes sparkling with amusement.
and despite his playful tone, just the thought of the double meaning of his words has your pussy throbbing. "satoru," you say again.
"hmm?" his hands run soothing paths up and down your sides. "need something, baby?"
you nod a little.
“you gonna use your words?”
you pause, trying to push through the sudden shyness. you nod again. once you gather your courage, you say, “i need you to fuck me.”
he smirks a little, his thumbs brushing your hip bones. “really?”
“mhm.”
“tell me more.” he’s grinning, now, and if you weren’t so goddamn desperate right now, you’d scoff and turn your back on him and make him beg.
unfortunately, your body betrays you. your cunt is already so wet you feel your freshly washed panties clinging between your legs. you fight to swallow, and you say, voice wobbly with need, “i need you to pin me down and crack me like a glowstick. i don’t wanna think, i don’t want to decide, i want you to touch me and guide me and do all the work and i want everything to feel so overwhelming i can’t think.”
and he, like the eager hound he is for you, takes your command, your thinly veiled plea, like gospel.
two hours later, you’re not even quite sure how you got here anymore, your face buried in the fluffy pillows as drool drenches the fabric. every wordless cry is muffled in the pillowcase, and your eyes are hazy with tears of ecstasy and overwhelm. every drag of his cock against your walls sends sparks of intensity up your spine, and there's a deep pressure in your pelvis that never quite relaxes, even as another climax builds low and hot.
you've lost count of how many orgasms he's coaxed from you.
and satoru, the inexorable bastard, is hardly winded.
"come on, baby," he chides playfully in your ear, taking the lobe gently between his teeth as his hips slap against your ass, "you said you wanted it just like this, didn't you? where'd my brave girl go, huh?"
you just let out a broken sob, your body trying in vain to crawl out from under his, in search of just a moment of reprieve.
he just places one of his expansive palms on the back of your skull, pushing your head deeper into the pillows as he chases you down, locking you underneath his heavy and perfectly controlled form.
he doesn't let you run. and he sure as hell doesn't ease up on you.
"i know, baby," he coos as you hiccup another moan, your body trembling as another wave of release washes over you. "just a little more. you asked me for something, and you know i never break my promises."
a/n: genuinely have nothing to say for myself with this one
︵ ೀ mdni. satoru railing you on the table in the early morning
“you’re still horny? didn’t i fuck you hard enough last night?”
satoru grins against your mouth as you kiss him over breakfast, all needy and desperate like you didn’t get railed for hours last night. you’re straddling his lap at the kitchen table, grinding your soaked pussy against the hard bulge in his sweatpants.
“fuck, baby,” he laughs but his hands grab your ass and pull you down harder. “look at you. one kiss and you’re already this wet.” his lips trail down your neck, sucking marks into your skin while you rock your hips faster, rubbing your clit against his thick cock through the fabric.
you whimper and tug at his shirt. he doesn’t bother with foreplay. one hand shoves your panties to the side, and with the other he pushes his sweat shorts down just enough to free his thick cock. “always so greedy in the morning,” he mutters, then sinks in.
you moan loud as he fills you up, stretching your tight walls around his fat length. he grips your hips and bounces you on his cock right there on the chair, deep and rough. wet sounds fill the kitchen every time you slam down.
“shit, still so fucking tight,” satoru groans, biting your neck. “fucked you so good last night and you’re still clenching like you need more.” he suddenly stands up with you still on his cock, legs wrapped around his waist. he lays you flat on the kitchen table, knocking a plate aside, and starts fucking you with hard, deep thrusts.
the table shakes under you and you have to grab the edge of the table to steady yourself. and then satoru reaches over, grabs the coffee mug beside your head and takes a long sip while he keeps railing you.
“really!??” you manage to choke out between moans.
satoru smirks down at you, thrusts never slowing. “what? i got an early meeting. need my caffeine, baby.” he takes another sip, then sets the mug down and grips your thighs, spreading you wider so he can fuck you even harder.
his cock slams in deep and fast, balls slapping against you. “fuck, this pussy feels too good. can’t help it if you’re still this horny after i filled you up last night.” he leans over you, one hand braced on the table, the other on your leg to fold you in half.
“gotta multitask today. now cum for me before i have to leave.”
hawaii (maui) — gojo :: you sign up for surfing lessons hoping for a relaxing summer activity and instead get stuck with the most insufferable instructor on the island. By the time your final lesson arrives, saying goodbye feels a lot harder than falling off a surfboard.
You signed up for those surfing lessons on a whim, thinking it’d be the perfect low-stakes way to kick off your Maui summer. Turns out it was the start of something you still can’t quite explain.
You’d moved to Honolulu a few months earlier for a teaching job that kept you buried in lesson plans, grading, and parent emails most of the year. Summers were your reset—two full months off to actually breathe. The city was fine—palm trees, good poke, that constant warm breeze—but it felt like you were still unpacking your life in slow motion. So when the school year ended, you booked the ferry to Maui on impulse for the first couple weeks. One duffel bag, a beat-up pair of flip-flops, and zero expectations. You figured you’d lounge on the beach, eat too much fruit, and maybe learn to stand on a board without eating sand. Simple.
The surf school was a small operation tucked behind a row of rental shacks near Lahaina. A hand-painted sign read “Maui Wave Riders – No Experience? No Problem.” You showed up fifteen minutes early on the first day, sunscreen already sweating off your arms, and joined a group of five other beginners milling around on the sand. Two college guys from California, a couple on their honeymoon, and a woman in her forties who kept checking her watch like she had somewhere better to be.
Then Gojo showed up.
He jogged down the beach carrying three boards under one arm like they weighed nothing, white hair shoved under a backward baseball cap, board shorts hanging low on his hips. “Morning, wave warriors!” he called out, voice loud enough to scatter a few nearby seagulls. “Who’s ready to get absolutely destroyed by the ocean today?”
The group chuckled nervously.
He dropped the boards with a thud and clapped his hands once. “Alright, quick roll call. I’m Gojo, your ridiculously talented instructor. I’ve been surfing these waters since I could walk, so trust me when I say I’ve seen worse than whatever you’re about to do out there.” His eyes skimmed the group and landed on you. “New face. You from Honolulu? You’ve got that city-girl posture.”
You blinked. “Yeah. How’d you—”
“City girl it is,” he said, already moving on. “Let’s get you all suited up before the sun decides to cook us alive.”
The first hour was mostly on the sand. Gojo demonstrated pop-ups with exaggerated slowness, then yelled corrections while everyone practiced on dry land. He was everywhere at once—fixing the honeymoon husband’s grip, teasing the California guys about their “mainland form,” and somehow remembering the watch-checking woman’s name after hearing it once.
You kept falling during the pretend pop-ups. Your arms shook, and sand stuck to the backs of your thighs in gritty patches.
“Easy, rookie,” Gojo said, appearing beside you without warning. He placed one hand on your waist to steady you as you tried again. His palm was warm, calloused from years of paddling. “Bend your knees more. you look like you're waiting for a bus”
You wobbled and dropped back to the sand. “I feel like a newborn giraffe.”
“Giraffes can’t surf,” he shot back, grinning. “You’re doing better than that guy over there.” He jerked a thumb toward one of the college dudes who’d just face-planted dramatically. “At least you’re not dramatic about it. Yet. Come on, try it without looking like you’re about to file a complaint with HR.”
By the time you actually got in the water, the sun was high and relentless. The waves were small, beginner-friendly, but they still felt like they held personal grudges. You managed to stand up twice—brief, glorious seconds—before the board shot out from under you and you ate it hard. Saltwater burned your nose. When you surfaced, coughing, Gojo was already paddling over on his own board, laughing.
“Ten out of ten for commitment,” he said, offering a hand to help you back onto your board. “Zero out of ten for grace. Classic city girl move. You fall like you’re texting and walking at the same time. Or maybe you’re just trying to hug the ocean. Either way, entertaining.”
“Stop calling me that,” you grumbled, but took his hand anyway. His grip was firm, steadying.
“Can’t. Forgot your actual name already. Too many new people.” He winked, then paddled backward. “Try not to drown. I don’t get paid enough for lifeguard duty. Though I’d look great doing it. Sunglasses and everything.”
The rest of the lesson blurred. Gojo flirted shamelessly with everyone. He told the honeymoon wife her form was “elegant as hell” and fake-pouted when her husband splashed him. He called the California guys “bro” every other sentence and pretended to steal one of their boards. With you, the teasing kept coming. After your third fall he yelled from twenty feet away, “Nice splash! You training for the Olympics or just showing off for me? Wait, don’t answer that—I already know it’s the second one.”
You wanted to throw your board at his head. Instead you paddled harder and ignored him, muttering under your breath about cocky instructors who talked too much.
After the last wave, everyone dragged their boards back to shore. Your legs felt like jelly. Sand caked your knees and there was a suspicious amount of it in your bikini top. Gojo tossed you a faded blue towel from the pile near the shack. It hit you square in the chest.
“Dry off before you attract every crab on the beach,” he said. Then, without asking, he reached over and tugged the strings of your bikini top tighter. “This thing’s loose. Don’t need any wardrobe malfunctions on my watch. I’ve seen enough of those this season.”
Your face heated. “I can tie my own—”
“Clearly not tight enough,” he interrupted, already stepping back. “There. Now you won’t flash the tourists. You’re welcome, city girl.”
The group dispersed slowly. You sat on the sand, wringing out your hair, when Gojo dropped down beside you holding two plastic cups of shaved ice from the nearby stand. He had sauce on his shirt from something he’d eaten earlier, and his cap was on crooked.
“Peace offering,” he said, shoving the red one toward you. “Cherry for the newbie who ate the most waves today. Don’t say I never did anything nice.”
You took it, the cold cup instantly numbing your fingers. “Thanks. You don’t have to—”
“I know.” He spooned a massive bite of blue ice into his mouth and spoke around it. “But you looked like you were about to melt. Or cry. Or both. Figured sugar would help. Plus I already paid for it so don’t waste it. I’m not made of money, you know.”
The second lesson started late because Gojo showed up fifteen minutes after the scheduled time, half a breakfast burrito in one hand and sauce on his chin. “Traffic,” he mumbled around a bite, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a smear. “Or maybe I hit snooze. Who remembers? My bad. Summer schedules, right?”
He spent the dry-land warm-up doing handstands for no reason, sand flying everywhere. “Watch this!” he yelled, then immediately toppled over laughing. Sand went everywhere, including into your water bottle. You snorted despite yourself.
“Child,” you said, shaking your bottle.
“Proud of it,” he replied, upside down for a second before collapsing. He shook sand out of his hair like a dog. Some of it landed on your leg. “Your turn, surfer girl. Impress me with those city moves.”
“No thanks. I’m trying to survive the actual surfing part. And you got sand in my drink.”
In the water he was still talking too much. Every time you wiped out he had a comment ready. “That one had style! Too bad style doesn’t keep you on the board. Maybe next time aim for the wave instead of the sandbar.” One joke about your paddling form landed so flat that the honeymoon husband winced and changed the subject. You paddled away and focused on the waves instead, wondering why you’d signed up for this when you had two whole months to fill.
After that lesson the group stuck around for a beach bonfire someone had mentioned. Gojo helped stack the wood, mostly by handing pieces to other people while he talked nonstop about his worst student stories. Sparks popped against the darkening sky. The college guys passed around snacks from a cooler. You sat on a log, legs sandy, picking at a bag of chips and trying to brush off the grit that kept sticking to your thighs.
Gojo plopped down next to you, closer than necessary, his knee bumping yours. “Not bad today, rookie. You stayed up longer on that last one. Almost looked like you knew what you were doing.”
“Yeah, until I didn’t.” You brushed sand off your calf, then reached for another chip.
He shrugged, then reached over and pressed a cold can of soda against the back of your neck without warning. You jumped at the chill. “Brain freeze prevention,” he said casually. “You seemed off after that third fall. Work emails again? Or just tired of my amazing instruction? Teachers get summers off, right? Lucky.”
You nodded, taking the can when he finally handed it over. The cold felt good against your skin. Across the fire, the watch lady was struggling to open a stubborn bag of marshmallows. Gojo hopped up immediately, nearly tripping over the log. “Here, let me. These things hate everyone.” He tore it open with his teeth, spilling a few into the sand, then helped her skewer a few on a stick. The lady laughed and thanked him. He waved it off like it was nothing and sat back down, wiping his hands on his already messy shorts.
You watched him for a moment—the easy way he’d jumped in even after forgetting half the group’s names earlier, the way he launched right back into a dumb story about a tourist who tried to surf with a GoPro attached to his forehead and nearly lost it to a wave. He kept talking, forgetting a detail midway and backtracking, but the story still landed. Something clicked as you listened. Not the jokes or the confidence. Just him helping without making a big deal out of it, even while covered in sand and burrito sauce. You looked away, took a long sip of soda, and passed the bag of chips his way instead of saying anything.
Lesson three was the rainy one. Light drizzle turned the sand dark and the water choppier. Gojo showed up on time for once, but his board shorts had a new mystery stain down the side. “Don’t ask,” he said when you glanced at it. “I tripped carrying coffee this morning. Forgot the lid. Classic me.”
Everyone wanted to cancel but he talked them into one short session. “Come on, it builds character. Or pneumonia. One of the two. What’s a little rain between friends? You teachers deal with worse every day, right?” You fell more than usual. One wipeout left you with a minor scrape on your knee from the board’s fin. Gojo had you sit on the sand under the shelter of the rental shack while he dug through the first aid kit, muttering about how he always forgot where he put the good bandages.
“It’s barely anything,” you protested, wiping water from your face.
“Still.” He crouched in front of you, antiseptic wipe in hand. His touch was light, almost careful. “Don’t want it getting infected. Then you’d blame me and never come back for more of my top-tier teaching.” He blew on the spot gently to dry the wipe, then stuck a bandage on it. “There. Battle wound. Makes you look hardcore, princess. Just don’t tell the others I played doctor or they’ll all want one.”
“Thanks, Doctor Gojo.”
He laughed. “Don’t get used to it. I forget half my own stuff anyway.” He patted his pockets, realized he’d left his own towel back at the shack, and used the hem of his shirt to wipe his hands instead, leaving a wet streak across his stomach.
After the lesson the rain eased up. Most of the group headed out, but you and Gojo ended up walking toward a food truck a short distance down the beach. “I’m starving,” he announced, kicking a piece of driftwood ahead of him. “Burrito guy owes me after yesterday’s mess. I left my wallet there last week and he held it for me like a saint.”
You went along. The truck had tacos. Gojo ordered way too much—three for himself, plus extras—and then insisted on paying for yours when you reached for your wallet. “Instructor discount,” he claimed, even though the guy behind the counter just rolled his eyes and muttered something about Gojo always saying that. You sat at a rickety picnic table under a faded umbrella, eating while waves crashed nearby. He talked nonstop—about a bad wipeout from last season where he lost his board for two hours, about forgetting his keys in the surf shack twice this month, about how the honeymoon couple asked him for couple’s surf tips that were definitely not appropriate. You laughed despite the stress still lingering from wrapping up school emails before the trip. He noticed your quieter mood and launched into an even dumber story about the time he tried to teach a group of kids and ended up wearing a floatie as a hat until one of them cried laughing. Your taco nearly fell apart in your hands from laughing.
The next lessons passed quicker, with the group slowly thinning as people’s vacations ended. Gojo remained equal parts chaos and competence. He was late again once, showing up with the half-eaten burrito and complaining about forgetting his phone charger. He still teased, though less constantly now. “Nice recovery, trouble,” he’d say after a decent ride. The hand on your waist during stance checks became routine. He stole your sunscreen again but actually applied it properly this time, thumbs pressing into the tight spots between your shoulder blades without comment. The towel toss after every session stayed the same—sometimes missing and forcing you to chase it across the sand while he laughed.
One afternoon after the group had mostly cleared out, Gojo suggested grabbing shaved ice and walking the beach path instead of heading straight back. “Not a big deal,” he said, already heading toward the stand. “I’ve got nowhere to be and you look like you could use the extra sugar before the ferry. Plus I forgot my water bottle again, so I need something cold. Teachers probably have all kinds of summer plans, huh?”
You agreed. It wasn’t called a date. You just walked side by side, cups melting in your hands, stopping once so he could tie his shoe and complain about the sand getting everywhere in his shorts. He pointed out a crab scuttling sideways and made a bad joke about it being a better surfer than half the beginners he’d had that week. You kicked sand at him. He kicked some back, missing widely because he was distracted waving at a kid building a castle nearby. The kid’s mom looked stressed, juggling a cooler and a phone call. Gojo wandered over for a second, showed the boy how to pack the sand tighter for a taller tower, then returned like it was nothing, brushing his hands off on his shorts.
“Kid had the right idea,” he said, spooning more ice. “Build big, fall big. Kinda like your first few days out there.”
You rolled your eyes but kept walking. The path wound past some rental houses, and Gojo kept up a running commentary on random things—forgetting midway through a story about a local food spot and starting over. The shaved ice dripped down your wrist, sticky and cold. You wiped it on your towel, which he’d tossed at you earlier. By the time you reached the end of the path, the sun was lower and your legs were tired in that good way. He didn’t say much about the next lesson, just mentioned the time and waved as you headed toward the ferry dock.
A couple more lessons followed the same loose pattern. Gojo showed up late one day with wet hair from an early morning swim he’d decided to take on impulse. During one session he spent half the time in the water chasing after a loose board that got away, cursing loudly enough that a nearby family gave him dirty looks. “My bad!” he called back to them, then turned to you with a grin. “See? Even the ocean thinks I talk too much. What do they teach you in school about dealing with loudmouths?”
You were getting better though. Standing up on more waves, riding them farther. He noticed, adjusting your stance with that familiar hand on your waist. “Weight back a little, rookie. There you go.” After one solid ride, he met you on the shore with a cold can of soda, pressing it against your arm this time instead of your neck. “Not bad. You’re sticking around longer than I thought you would. Two months of summer? You planning to turn pro by the end?”
One evening after a decent lesson, the two of you ended up at the food truck again, this time splitting a basket of fries because he’d forgotten his wallet but the guy knew him. You sat at the same picnic table, watching the waves, while he rambled about a surf competition he’d entered last year and placed dead last in because he showed up late. You kicked his foot under the table when he exaggerated the story. He kicked back, laughing, then complained about the fries getting cold too fast.
The sun was still high most days, and there were plenty more lessons lined up across your two months off. You started taking the ferry more regularly, packing extra snacks in your bag that sometimes ended up shared when Gojo forgot lunch. He remained forgetful—leaving the first aid kit open one day, losing track of whose towel was whose—but the teasing mixed with those small things that kept you showing up. Sand stuck to your legs after every session. The sunscreen he borrowed without asking. The way he’d toss your towel and miss half the time, forcing you to chase it while he pretended not to notice.
Another afternoon, after the group was basically just you and a couple stragglers, Gojo stuck around longer than usual. The lesson ran a bit over because he got distracted showing off a trick to the remaining college guy. You helped gather the boards, and he tossed you yours with a grin. “See? Teamwork. Or whatever.”
You ended up grabbing drinks from a nearby stand—cold sodas again—and sitting on the sand a little farther down the beach where it was quieter. He stretched out, complaining about forgetting to bring his hat today and how the sun was going to kill him. You passed him the extra snack you’d packed, some chips, and he took them without hesitation, talking about a funny parent email he imagined teachers got during summer break. The conversation wandered—him forgetting the name of a local spot, you mentioning a chaotic field trip story from last school year. Nothing big happened. Just sand on your calves, the occasional kick at each other’s feet, and him spilling half his soda when he laughed too hard at his own dumb joke.
The summer stretched on, with more days ahead on the island. You headed back to the ferry that evening with wet hair and sandy flip-flops, already thinking about the next trip over. There was still more than a month left of your break, plenty of time for more wiped-out rides, more shaved ice, and whatever else came with showing up for lessons.
No one would have been able to resist him.
A few weeks into the classes, with the original group mostly scattered back to their real lives, new faces kept showing up. A pair of retirees from Texas who wanted to try something new before their cruise, three high school kids on a family trip who spent more time laughing than paddling, and a solo traveler from Seattle who kept asking Gojo for tips on the best poke spots. It kept things from feeling too quiet on the sand. Gojo still ran the sessions the same way—late half the time, talking too much, tossing towels that missed by a mile—but now there were fresh people for him to tease.
You were getting decent on the board by then. Not great, but you could ride most beginner waves without eating sand every time. Gojo noticed, of course he did. His hand on your waist during stance checks lingered a beat longer. The teasing had shifted too, lower voices when no one else was close, dumb jokes that felt aimed just at you.
It started after one lesson when the new group had cleared out. You were rinsing off at the outdoor shower near the shack, water cold against your shoulders. Gojo leaned against the post, watching with that stupid grin. “Not bad out there, trouble. Almost looked like a real surfer instead of a teacher on summer break.”
“Almost?” You shut off the water and grabbed your towel.
“Yeah. Still paddle like you’re grading papers.” He stepped closer, sand stuck to his legs, and tugged the towel out of your hands to drape it over your shoulders himself. His fingers brushed your collarbone. Neither of you said anything for a second. Then he tilted his head toward the rocks down the beach. “C’mon. Before the next group shows up.”
Behind the rocks, where the tide pools hid you from the main stretch, it happened fast. His mouth on yours, tasting like the cherry shaved ice he’d split with you earlier. The rocks were rough against your back but you didn’t care. Gojo’s hands were everywhere—sliding under the wet bikini top he’d tied too tight that morning, pulling the strings loose with one tug. “Been wanting to do this since you showed up looking all city-girl annoyed,” he muttered against your neck, voice rough.
You laughed, breathless, and yanked at his board shorts. “You’re still annoying.”
“Good. Means you’ll keep coming back.” He lifted you against the rock, one hand steady on your thigh. It was quick and messy, salt on your skin, his laugh turning into a groan when you bit his shoulder. Sand got everywhere. Afterward you both sat there catching your breath, his arm loose around you while waves lapped nearby. He tossed your towel at your face like always. “Don’t say I never clean up after class.”
That became the pattern. Lessons during the day with the rotating crew of new students—Gojo showing off for the high school kids, helping the retirees with their balance in that sneakily kind way that still got to you—then sneaking off after. Sometimes right there behind the rocks if the timing worked. Other times you took the ferry back together and ended up at the little apartment you’d rented for the summer, a studio with a view of the harbor and a bed that creaked under both of you.
One afternoon after a rainy session like the old days, the new group bailed early. Gojo drove you to your place in his beat-up Jeep, windows down, complaining the whole way about forgetting his keys again. “Left them in the shack. Again. You’d think I’d learn after the third time.”
Inside the apartment it was slower. He pushed you against the kitchen counter first, hands on your waist like he was correcting your stance, only this time his fingers dipped under your shorts. “You looked good out there today,” he said, mouth on your jaw. “Steady. Made me want to skip the rest of the lesson.”
You hooked a leg around him, pulling him closer. “Then stop talking and do something about it.”
He did. Lifted you onto the counter, dropping to his knees right there with the fridge humming behind him. His tongue worked you over until your fingers were in his white hair, tugging hard. When he stood up again, board shorts shoved down, he fucked you right on the edge, one hand braced beside you, the other gripping your hip. The cold can of soda from your fridge pressed against your neck at one point—he grabbed it mid-thrust and held it there, grinning when you shivered. “Brain freeze prevention, remember?”
You came hard, legs shaking, and he followed right after, messy and loud like everything else he did. Afterward you both ended up on the couch, half-dressed, sharing the rest of the soda while sand from your legs dusted the cushions. He rambled about a dumb tourist story from that morning, forgetting the punchline halfway through. You kicked his foot and he kicked back, laughing.
His penthouse was different. A few nights later he talked you into staying over instead of taking the last ferry. The place was nicer than you expected—big windows overlooking the water, but messy as hell. Boards leaned against the wall, empty soda cans on the counter, a towel draped over the couch like he’d forgotten it there days ago.
“Welcome to my palace,” he said, kicking clothes out of the way. “Don’t judge the decor. I’ve been busy.”
You didn’t judge. The place was a mess—surfboards propped against the wall, empty soda cans on the nightstand, a pile of board shorts and towels on the floor—but the second the door shut you were on each other. Gojo backed you straight into his bedroom, hands already shoving your bikini top up, mouth latching onto one tit while he palmed the other roughly. “Fuck, these have been teasing me all day under that top,” he muttered, sucking hard enough to leave a dark mark right where your bikini would hide it tomorrow.
He pushed you down onto the unmade bed, sheets already tangled from whenever he’d last slept. You yanked his board shorts down, his cock springing free, hard and leaking at the tip. Gojo grinned that cocky grin as he pinned your wrists above your head with one hand. “Look at me,” he ordered when your eyes fluttered shut, sliding into you in one slow, deep thrust. You were soaked from the day’s tension, and he groaned loud as your pussy clenched around him. “That’s it, trouble. So fucking tight for your annoying instructor.”
He fucked you like that for a long time—slow and deliberate at first, hips rolling deep so his cock dragged against that spot inside you with every stroke. His free hand slid down to pinch your nipple, then moved lower to rub your clit in tight circles. You arched up, legs wrapping around his waist, but he held you right where he wanted, controlling the pace. “Say it,” he teased, voice low and rough as he ground against you. “Who’s the best instructor on this whole fucking island?”
“You’re the only one, idiot,” you gasped, trying to move your hips faster.
He laughed, dark and filthy, then flipped you over onto your stomach without pulling out. He gripped your ass with both hands, spreading you open as he started pounding harder. The wet slap of skin filled the room, his balls hitting your clit with every thrust. “Fuck yes, take it just like that. Been thinking about this pussy since you fell off that board the first day.” He reached around to rub your clit again, fast and rough, while his other hand fisted in your hair. You came hard, crying out into the mattress, pussy pulsing around his cock. Gojo didn’t stop, fucking you through it until your legs shook.
He pulled out, flipped you onto your back again, and shoved your legs up toward your chest. He thrust back in deep, hips snapping. Sweat dripped down his chest as he railed you, talking the whole time like he couldn’t help it. “Gonna fill this cunt up. You’re gonna feel me leaking out of you on the ferry tomorrow.” A few more brutal thrusts and he came with a groan, burying himself deep as he spilled inside you. He stayed there a minute, cock twitching, before pulling out and watching his cum drip from your pussy with a satisfied smirk.
You both collapsed, sweaty and spent, his arm slung over you while he complained about the sand still stuck to his back. “Found some in my ass crack earlier. Your fault.”
Even his car wasn’t off limits. One evening after a long lesson with the new retirees asking endless questions, Gojo pulled you into the Jeep parked behind the shacks. “Quick one before you ferry out,” he said, already tugging you into the back seat. It was cramped and ridiculous—your knee hit the door, his elbow knocked the seat—but he made it work, yanking your bikini bottoms aside and pulling you onto his lap.
His cock slid into you in one go, your pussy still slick from earlier thoughts about him. “Bet those Texas folks think I’m just giving extra pointers,” he grunted, hands on your ass guiding you up and down. “If only they knew I was balls deep in my favorite student.” The windows fogged fast as you rode him hard, the car rocking with every bounce. He sucked marks onto your tits, one hand slipping between you to rub your swollen clit until you were biting his shoulder to stay quiet. “Cum on my cock like a good girl,” he growled. You did, clenching tight around him. He followed right after, filling you up again with a low curse.
Afterward he wiped you both down with a random shirt from the floor, then drove you to the dock with his hand on your thigh, whistling like nothing happened.
The hooking up didn’t change the daytime stuff much. New students kept the lessons lively. The high school kids thought Gojo was hilarious when he did his handstand fails. One of the retirees brought extra snacks and shared them during breaks. Gojo still stole your sunscreen, still pressed cold drinks to your skin after hot sessions, still called you trouble or rookie when others could hear. But now there were these stolen moments—behind rocks with quick, desperate fucks where he covered your mouth so no one heard you moan; in your apartment where he stayed late and left his board shorts on your floor; in his messy penthouse where you woke up to him burning toast the next morning; in the car where everything felt urgent and stupid and perfect.
One afternoon with the group thinned to just you and the Seattle guy for a bit, Gojo kept the lesson short. Afterward he grabbed your hand and pulled you behind the rocks again. This time he bent you over a smooth boulder, yanking your bottoms down and thrusting into you from behind while waves crashed close enough to spray mist on your skin. His hand snaked around to rub your clit fast, mouth on your shoulder biting down. “Good girl, squeezing my cock so fucking tight,” he muttered when you came hard, clenching around him. He pulled out and finished on your back in thick stripes, then used your towel to clean it up, tossing it at you with a grin.
Back at the apartment that night it was lazier. You both showered together first, water running over sand and salt. He washed your hair without being asked, fingers careful, but it didn’t stay innocent long. He fucked you against the shower wall, your leg hooked over his hip, pounding deep until the water ran cold and you came again with his name on your lips. In bed after, he was half-asleep, arm around your waist, muttering something about forgetting to set an alarm for tomorrow’s lesson.
The summer kept going, weeks blending with lessons, new faces rotating in and out, and these hookups that left you sore in the best way. Gojo remained Gojo—late, messy, overconfident, talking too much—but you kept showing up anyway.
You zipped up the last duffel bag on the apartment floor, the sound loud in the quiet studio. Gojo sat on the edge of the unmade bed, legs kicked out, watching you like he was trying to memorize the way you folded your towels. The same faded blue one from the surf shack was stuffed in there somewhere, still smelling faintly of ocean and sunscreen.
“Two and a half months,” he said, not for the first time. “Every damn day. And now you’re just… packing.”
You didn’t look up right away. Your hands kept moving, shoving flip-flops into the side pocket. “Summer’s over, Satoru. I’ve got lesson plans due next week. Kids don’t care that I learned to stand on a board.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, white hair messy from the wind earlier. “Yeah, well. I got used to you showing up. Even when you were terrible at popping up. Especially when you were terrible.”
You finally glanced over. His usual grin was missing. He looked like a kid who’d lost his favorite toy—slouched, one foot tapping the floor. You sat on the bed next to him, shoulder bumping his. “I’ll come back. Teachers get three weeks at Christmas. And next summer’s already booked in my head. Maui again. Same stupid lessons.”
He snorted, but it sounded forced. “You better. Who else is gonna chase my towel when I miss the toss?” His hand found yours, fingers lacing tight. “I’m gonna be bored as hell. New groups every week, all of them asking dumb questions. No one to call me an idiot after I forget the first aid kit again.”
You squeezed back, throat tight. The last few weeks had been a blur of lessons with whoever showed up—more retirees, some honeymooners, a bachelor party that Gojo mocked relentlessly—and stolen time in between. Behind the rocks, in his Jeep, in this apartment where the bed still creaked from last night. Now it was quiet. Just the hum of the fridge and the distant harbor noise.
“I’m not exactly thrilled either,” you said, leaning into him. “Honolulu’s gonna feel small after this.”
Gojo pulled you closer, arm around your waist like he did during stance checks. “Stay one more night. Ferry tomorrow instead.”
“You said that yesterday.” You turned your head and kissed his jaw. “And the day before.”
He sighed, dramatic as always, but stood up anyway. “Fine. But I’m driving you to the airport. No arguments. And I’m stealing one of your sodas for the road.”
The drive was mostly quiet. Gojo’s Jeep rattled over the roads, windows down, his hand on your thigh like always. He complained about forgetting his sunglasses, then about the traffic, then about how the next instructor rotation was some guy who talked even more than him. You let him ramble, watching the island scenery slide by. Every now and then he’d squeeze your leg, like he was checking you were still there.
At the airport drop-off, he parked illegally for a minute, hazards on. You grabbed your bags from the back while he hovered. “Text when you land. And when you unpack. And when you remember how much you miss my shaved ice.”
You rolled your eyes but smiled. “I will. Promise. Christmas break, okay? I’ll book the ferry or whatever.”
He nodded, then cupped your face with both hands and kissed you. It wasn’t quick. Deep and a little desperate, his thumb brushing your cheek. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “Don’t forget the instructor who taught you to surf. Or whatever.”
“Hard to forget.” You kissed him once more, quick, then stepped toward the doors. He watched until you were inside, hands in his pockets, that sad-slouch still there. You didn’t turn around again until security, and by then the Jeep was gone.
Two months later, you trudged up the stairs to your Honolulu apartment, keys jingling. The school day had been long—parent conferences, a kid puking in class, endless grading. Your shoulders ached like after a bad wipeout. All you wanted was a cold drink and to kick off your shoes.
The door across the hall was propped open. Movers carried in a surfboard and a pile of random junk—empty cans, towels, a familiar backward cap. You stopped, staring.
Gojo stepped out, wiping his hands on his shorts, white hair sticking up. He spotted you and grinned like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. “Hey, new neighbor. Took you long enough to get home from work."
You blinked, bags slipping off your shoulder. “What the hell?”
“Surprise.” He leaned against the doorframe, messy as ever. “Penthouse was too quiet without you yelling at me for being late. Figured Honolulu needed a surf instructor. Or at least one annoying one. Lease is month-to-month, so don’t get any ideas about me being permanent or whatever.”
You stood there, heart doing something stupid. The hallway smelled like his sunscreen already. “You moved here? For real?”
He shrugged, but his eyes were bright. “Had to. Couldn’t wait till Christmas. Plus, I forgot my favorite towel in your bag. Needed an excuse to see you every day again.” He kicked a box aside. “Come on. Help me unpack before I lose my keys in here. Then I’ll make you a shitty toast dinner like old times.”
You laughed despite the long day, crossing the hall. Sand from his shoes already dusted the floor. “You’re still impossible.”
“Yeah, but you like it.” He tugged you inside by the wrist, door clicking shut behind you. The summer might be over, but this—whatever it was—clearly wasn’t.
hate sex with your rival painter, rafayel qi! wc 547
you hadn’t meant to fuck rafayel, honest! well.. you hadn’t exactly meant to fuck him the first time, either… or the dozen other times you did- he was just so infuriating!
“i hate you.” you grit out, nails digging into the back of rafayels arm where you hold onto him for support with one arm, the other pressed against the wall he has you smushed against.
rafayel huffed out a mix between a laugh and a scoff, his hand sliding across your waist to your front, splaying across your covered stomach and pulling your back against his front. “ah, you wound me, how many times are you going torture me with your hatred?”
you clear your throat to cover a moan, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing what he’s doing to you. “i told you months ago to stop painting me- mmh- and selling them. you’re profiting off of my beauty- hhmmmmhh?!”
rafayel’s hand covers your mouth, silencing the same spiel he’s heard countless times. “shhhh, you’re so noisy.. listen.”
he continues thrusting, his hips smacking against yours dully and bringing out wet phwap pwhap sounds. you can still hear the noises that normally accompany art auctions going on outside of whatever tiny room rafayel drug you into- glasses clinking, people laughing a bit too loudly at jokes that really aren’t all that funny, and the crackle of the auctioneer's microphone.
“it doesn’t sound like you hate me… you can say you hate me, but your sweet pussy betrays you.” rafayel murmurs in your ear, lips tracing the shell of it.
as if in response, your pussy clenches and flutters around him- traitor. rafayel laughs in response, knowing you can’t lie your way out of this.
his hand slowly left your mouth, running down your throat and twirling your pearl necklace between his fingertips. “i’ve never seen you in this before… i’ll be sure to paint this outfit in time for our next event, yeah? wouldn’t want you to avoid me.”
you grit your teeth and stomp a heeled foot in annoyance, opening your mouth to protest but moaning instead when rafayel shifts positions juuust slightly, hitting that sweet spot deep inside of you. “hhaaaah-!”
rafayel moans quietly, hands tightening on your waist and necklace as he fucks into you harder, chasing his release.
“so beautiful, you’re so gorgeous.. my perfect muse.” he rambles into your ear, drowning out the loud speakers outside.
much like your spotty memory of how you always end up fucking rafayel, you don’t remember much of your orgasm- he had a habit of doing that to you.
when you come down from your haze, rafayel is pulling your dress down and smoothing it out, eyes caressing every feature and committing it to memory, likely so he can paint it. you didn’t doubt the sincerity of his earlier statement.
your cheeks flush despite your protests, fixing your hair and pushing past him to the door. “if you sell that painting tonight, you’d better donate all the earnings to something charitable.”
rafayel tilts his head and watches you pause in front of the door- he’d noticed you’d been having a harder time recently leaving him. that was good. he must he growing on you at least a little.
“i always do.”
a/n: this is a repost from april 7th, 2026 because i deleted it. whoopsies.
your boyfriend satoru is almost too big to fit 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 ﮳﮳ᐢ) !
you’re on your back, legs spread wide, shaky breaths escaping your lips as satoru kneels between them. his cock is already slick with precum, a thick, heavy weight that rests against your stomach whenever he leans forward. you’ve done this before—enough times to know the ache that comes after, the way your body protests and craves him in equal measure. but tonight, something’s different.
“you okay?” he asks, voice low, teasing, but there’s a genuine edge to it. his thumb traces circles on your hip, grounding you.
“yeah,” you whisper, even though you’re not entirely sure. you reach down, fingers wrapping around his shaft. even half-hard, he’s massive—your hand can’t close around him, can’t even get halfway. your palm slides over velvety skin, feels the pulse kick under your touch. he hisses, hips twitching forward.
“gotta warn you, baby,” your boyfriend says, thumb pressing into your wetness, gathering some of the slick mess. “i’m not gonna be able to hold back tonight.”
you nod. a part of you wants this, wants to feel him split you open, wants that desperate, overwhelming fullness even if it hurts. you bring your other hand between your thighs, spread yourself open, show him how wet you already are, the way your hole flutters in anticipation.
“put it in,” you breathe.
satoru lines himself up, the fat head nudging against your entrance. it’s just the tip, and already you feel the stretch, the burn of being filled past what’s natural. he pushes, slow, inch by inch, and you gasp, back arching off the bed. your walls clench around him, trying to accommodate, but it’s too much. he’s too big.
“fuck,” he grunts, sweat beading on his brow. “you’re so tight. you’re fighting me.”
it hurts. it hurts so good. you can feel your inner muscles pulling against his girth, can feel the resistance, the way your body tries to deny him entry even as you beg for it. he stops when he’s about halfway in, breath ragged.
“i can’t—you’re not gonna take all of it,” he says, voice strained. “it won’t fit.”
“i don’t care,” you whimper, hands gripping his forearms. “just—please. i need it.”
he takes a breath, then pushes harder. you cry out as he forces another inch in, the pain sharp and bright, mixed with a pleasure that makes your toes curl. he’s buried deep now, but still not all the way. you can feel the empty space inside you, the part of him still outside, and it drives you crazy.
satoru starts to move, shallow thrusts at first, pulling out just enough to let your body adjust before pressing back in. each time, the stretch is remade, your cunt screaming in protest and welcome. your moans turn into a steady stream of incoherent pleas—faster, more, harder, please—and he obliges, picking up the pace.
but his cock is too big. no matter how much you want it, no matter how wet you get, you can’t take him fully. your body tells you in little spasms, in the way you clench and release without rhythm, in the tear tracks that streak your cheeks. he sees them, slows down.
“too much?” he asks, and his thumb wipes at your cheek.
“don’t stop,” you choke out. “don’t stop.”
so he doesn’t. he fucks you with everything he’s got, hips snapping against yours, the wet sound of your pussy taking what it can filling the room. you can feel every ridge of his cock, every vein, the way he pulses inside you. your hands rake down his back, leaving red marks, and he growls, fucks you harder.
it’s not long before you come. the orgasm builds like a wave, cresting over you as he grinds against that spot inside you that makes your vision go white. your legs clamp around his waist, pulling him deeper, and you scream into his neck as you come undone, pussy clenching around him in violent pulsing waves.
but he doesn’t stop.
“s-satoru, wait, i’m still—” you gasp, overstimulated, sensitive, raw. the feeling of him still moving inside you after your orgasm is almost too much, a pleasure so intense it borders on pain.
“i know,” he says, and he’s not cruel, but he’s relentless. “one more. just one more for me, baby. you can do it.”
you’re shaking, trembling, your thighs quivering as he thrusts. the overstimulation amplifies everything—the stretch, the friction, the fullness. every brush of his cock against your walls sends jolts of electricity through your nerves. you’re crying now, a mix of ecstasy and exhaustion, but you don’t tell him to stop. you can’t. you need this, need him to use you until you’re nothing but a sobbing, cum-drunk mess.
he watches you fall apart, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. his hand snakes down between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, swollen and oversensitive. he rubs circles, light and fast, and you arch off the bed again, a broken moan tearing from your throat.
“that’s it,” he murmurs. “come on. give me another one.”
your second orgasm is less explosive but longer, a drawn-out, messy affair. your entire body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending lit up, as you cum around his too-big cock, still buried inside you, still moving. you feel his rhythm stutter, feel his heat spill inside you, deep and hot and endless. he groans your name as he cums, and the feeling of being filled by him, even though he never fit completely, is the final push you needed.
he pulls out gently, careful not to hurt you, and you both collapse on the wet sheets. his cock is still hard, still slick with your combined fluids, and you can see the way your entrance gapes, the redness, the evidence of what you’ve done. he kisses your forehead.
“you okay?” he asks again, softer this time.
you don’t have the breath to answer, so you just nod, curling into his chest. you feel the soreness already settling in, the dull ache that will bloom into something more tomorrow. but right now, you still feel him inside you, even though he’s not. that phantom fullness.
he’s still hard, pressing against your thigh. you can feel his breath quicken, and you know he’s not done yet. “one more,” he whispers, and the words are a command and a plea, all at once. “please. i need—again. i need you to take it again.”
you should say no. you should tell him you need a break, that your body can’t handle another round. but the way he looks at you, desperate and hungry, and the way your pussy still clenches around nothing, aches for him despite the pain—it overrides any sense.
“okay,” you whisper. “okay. but go slow.”
“i will,” he says, and he’s already positioning himself, already pressing the head of his cock against your overworked entrance. you hiss at the immediate stretch, the burn returning with a vengeance. he pushes in, inch by inch, and you can feel every fold of your cunt being forced open, made to accommodate him even though it never will.
your cries turn into sobs as he bottoms out—or rather, as he reaches the point where you can’t take any more. he strokes inside you, slow and deep, and the overstimulation is a living thing now, a fire that consumes you from the inside out. every nerve is screaming. your clit is so sore you can’t bear the thought of touch, yet when he reaches down and pinches it, you scream, a mix of agony and bliss.
your boyfriend fucks you like that, slow but punishing, milking your oversensitive body for all it’s worth. you’re a mess of tears and sweat and cum, legs trembling, hands fisting the sheets. he doesn’t stop until you’re choking on another orgasm, this one weak and painful, barely a shudder before you’re done.
he follows close behind, spilling into you again, his cum mixing with his own before it leaks out around his cock. he stays buried for a long moment, breathing hard, before pulling out. you’re left lying there, empty and shattered, your cunt fluttering, trying to hold onto something that’s too big to stay.
satoru collapses beside you, pulling you close. “that was—fuck.” he laughs, a low, exhausted sound. “you’re amazing.”
you can’t find the words, so you just press a kiss to his chest and let the slick, messy aftermath settle around you both, the ache of being stretched beyond your limit a warm, persistent throb that promises to haunt you for days.
18+ work, MDNI!!!!!
nerd!gojo x arcadeworker!reader
Synopsis: ‘Wonderboy’ as you like to call him—alias Satoru Gojo, absolute nerd—is the "arcade master" that’s been spending an entire week’s paycheck every day, mastering the world of coin-ops, and hoping to beat his one-sided rivalry with Jacker14449, the user with the highest scores in the entire arcade. You’re the part-timer, dealing with whiny kids, spilled drinks, and an immovable Gojo every. Other. Day. Now, just having cut off things with your ex-hookup, you’re dying to relieve some stress. So when Satoru finally beats his unknown opponent after staying an unwelcomed thirty minutes after closing time, you wonder, what else can those hands and fingers do?
or: Nerdjo and Reader hook-up.
Status & Content: oneshot. wc - 5498. female reader, afab reader, modern au, late 1980s - 1990s ish setting, forced proximity, nerdjo!, nerdjo is stubborn and annoying, tired and annoyed reader, slightly mean reader, sub!gojo, smut, banter and bickering, nerdjo goes on tangents, porn with plot, virgin gojo, arcade, gaming gojo, beginning drags for a little bit but picks back up again, half smut half dynamic establishing, non canon writing so definitely mischaracterization lol, nerdjo has a crush on you ++ ART BY INKYCK ON INSTA.
“Ma’am, your son doesn’t have enough tickets to get the Donkey Kong stuffed animal.”
You were starting to sound like a broken record.
Unfortunately, the past three times you’d uttered the same sentence out loud didn’t seem to get through the head of the woman who was standing in front of you.
Her lips, a bright scarlet—which would be matte if she hadn’t kept licking her lips in irritation, and pursing them in the most dissatisfied manner—seemed to want to open themselves again to advocate for her excessively annoying kid’s “needs.”
And when you looked at her, deadpanned, you’d even thought to yourself if her frizzy ginger hair was poofing up because of how angry she was getting at both: you not giving her son a Donkey Kong plush and her child, not giving it up.
“Girl!” She shouted. Not in an endearing way, but very much with an accusatory inflection. “Just give it to us! We’re only missing a couple of tickets!”
The ticket counter machine to your right displayed a bright green 112 in the middle. The Donkey Kong was 600 tickets.
“Ma’am, again, your son doesn’t have enough tickets. You’re under by 488,” you mumble, yawning as the lady in front of you urges her son to stop crawling on the floor to find the lost Pac-Man figurine he’d dropped on the floor. “If you’d like to pay the equivalent of seventy dollars, the monkey will gladly be handed over to you. Otherwise, your son can pick a prize that’s actually in his budget.”
You gesture toward the small slinkies, expired candies, and plastic toys in the glass box beneath you, labeled with “50”, “60”, and a few “90”s in there.
The woman looks you up and down, groans once more, before lifting her child off the ground as she snatches her purse off the counter.
“You cheap fucks!” She fumed, before looking you dead straight in the eye with a demeaning glare. “Fuck this place, and you! Johnny, we’re not coming back here, you hear me?! Don’t even think about ever…”
As her voice trails out of the store, you roll a groan out of your throat.
Another day, at your stupid part-time job, dealing with blazing karens, annoying lines of people dying to insert coins (hell, why the fuck did so many people like the arcades?!), and piles of tickets stacked onto the counter that your boss would make you refold, flatten, and put them back into the machines to “save costs”.
Which you honestly thought was waste of time—and he was an idiot.
But that wasn’t even the worst of it. The worst of it all, was waiting for him to finish his games.
“Wonderboy”—or Satoru if you felt nice some days.
Avid arcade gamer, stubborn nerd—he just happened to be there every other day. Same time as your boring shifts, ready to bust out a controller and a plastic bag of coins before humming along to Pac-Man Fever on repeat, over, and over again.
God. A total nerd.
Not like you had anything against them—you were friends with plenty of nerds! Hell, you might’ve been one a little bit yourself.
But Satoru was so annoying. You think it’d take you less effort to completely clean the entire arcade than get him to leave before closing hours, which, news flash! It does! And it’s a regular occurrence for both of you!
You also don’t think Satoru really picked up on the fact that the nickname was supposed to be some sort of indirect diss at him. He probably assumed you thought he was a genius.
Even though you were shocked that he learned how to beat Defender in less than two hours, it wasn’t like you thought he was that smart or anything. Sure, he looked like a nerd, but not all of them were really that intelligent.
If anything, he’d probably jerk off to Chun-Li at three in the morning after spending hours on perfecting Tetris rolling. Though, those were all speculations.
But that was your point. Satoru Gojo was a smidge of a wonder, and someone you couldn’t really figure out because all he liked to do was keep his head, hooked to the screen in front of him. And, part of it was also because Wonderboy was your ex-hookup’s favorite game (fuck that man and his crazy, big dick!)
And yeah! You were being petty—no doubt about that! Had Satoru started his overtime gaming shenanigans while you were still fucking your hookup, you would’ve never batted an eye! But instead, he butted his way into your closing shift, determined to take down his one-sided rivalry with the leaderboard player in all of the arcade games. And, very unfortunately, after your hookup ghosted you for over a week, practically taunting you that you weren’t getting laid because you were stuck dealing with his hobbies.
Just amazing.
And now, as always, when you start your closing shift, Satoru still doesn’t bat an eye at you locking up the doors, flipping signs over, dragging a full cart over to the arcade machines, or releasing the coins from the machines into the buckets in front of them.
As you’re there at Space Invaders, clearing out the profits of the day, hoping to really stare a hole into his head, Satoru Gojo refuses to move an inch.
“Hey, Wonderboy! It’s closing time—”
“Yeahyeahyeah—wait! I’m almost there, Y/n. Give me, like, two minutes! Here—tip! Take it!” He mumbles rapidly, throwing a ten-dollar bill in your direction, then swiftly returning to maneuver his fingers around the red and blue controls beneath him.
You poke your tongue between the folds of your cheek with an extreme eyeroll.
Then, there’s Jacker14449—the bane of Satoru Gojo’s existence. Titled best player holder in your quaint little arcade, who made Satoru very unhappy. All because his nerdy ego couldn’t take someone having a higher score than him.
“Well, it’s not exactly an ego thing. I just wanna beat them, ya’know? Like, it’s something worth bettering me for. If I’m not the best in my own neighborhood, how can I even be considered to be one of the better ones in the real world?”
See?
Exactly your point.
Was Donkey Kong really that serious? To be so fixed in front of a screen like that, you didn’t even bother to leave when a store closed?
“Look, I’m not saying it again! You better be out before I finish cleaning up, or I’m seriously banning you from here.”
“Yeah—yeah, yeah, I know! I’m almost done figuring out this trick,” Satoru quipped through his teeth, “You go! I’ll be out before you even see me again!”
By now, you’d know that was a total lie.
But today, you decide to choose peace. And, at least finish work before you lash out all our anger on him and then end up too tired to actually clean up the place (you did that last week and got a scolding).
Machine after machine, you collected coins, then moved them to the office room. You counted the cash and checked that the back door was completely locked. You went through your routine, slow, with the sound of pings and spamming buttons, and Satoru’s grunts and groans filling the air.
Yet finally, when you made your round trip back, ready to shut off the power entirely, Satoru is still perched on Donkey Kong with an intense furrow of his eyebrows on his face, completely going back on his word, once again.
But call it an excuse to take it out on him.
“Gojo, get the fuck out before I call the cops. It’s almost twelve in the morning—I have things to do tomorrow!”
“Wait,” Satoru urges, “I’m so close—Y/n! Come—-come! LOOK!!”
You don’t even want to approach him.
But you figure if he doesn’t listen, you might as well drag him out. Rolling your eyes while he spams a few more buttons, and you catch a glimpse of his last play.
Feverishly jolting the black joystick in his left hand, and his middle and ring fingers jutting at the blue buttons at an abnormal speed, he’s smashing through pixel barrels and jumping up the ladders.
And skillfully climbing the levels, as you see his high score inching closer and closer to beating the high score of 512929.
Before you know it, the game shines a beeping “GAME OVER!” before he reaches the top, as he finally throws his hands in the air triumphantly.
And he starts laughing.
“HOLY—did you see that? I beat ‘em—I beat Jacker! The last play was a total gamble! I didn’t think it’d actually work—you know how in Donkey Kong the last level is the kill screen? Well, I finally figured out a strategy that had all the chances of beating the highscore by at least five thousand points—” Satoru rambled, anxiously flexing and unflexing his fingers, before wincing in his thumb and pointer finger. “Shit, finger cramp!”
You honestly stifle a laugh.
He’s so nerdy and so dramatic, it almost kills you.
You spare a glance over at the leaderboard—which now displays THESTRONGEST677 with a highscore of 528109 right next to it—before crossing your arms as he prepares to sling a backpack over his shoulder.
“Look, Wonderboy—listen,” you emphasize, groaning out your complaint, “You can’t be doing this every day; this is ridiculous!!! Don’t have classes and homework? Like, why—what—why do you have so much free time?! Seriously—you’re twenty and coming over here to play every day! Go get laid or something!!”
Satoru shifts a bit in his stance, left finger stretching against the bottom strap of his backpack as he picks his ear.
You know it’s not your first time nagging his selective hearing about spending too much time the arcade—you practically sounded like his mom—but, really! He was totally taking advantage of you!
“W-well…I mean—yeah! I have classes, obviously. They’re just not really classes I needa study all the time for, ya’know? Like, don’t you have those?”
“No.” You deadpan. “I don’t. And honestly, it doesn’t really matter. I’m seriously tired of you delaying my closing shift all ‘cause you wanna dominate some random high score? God, like—what are you even taking to be gaming instead of studying or working a job?”
Satoru’s eyes widen at your word choice, but then he laughs.
“Hey! I do have a job, and I do study! I just like to game ‘cause it’s fun. And I kinda get to apply abstract algebra when I play games here, yeah? But, you totally think I’m dumb, don’t you?” Satoru laughs, leaning down to peer at you above his rimmed glasses.
You scoff at his observation, pursing your lips as your head tilts to the side. “I do! You’re here even after I tell you to leave, like, five—bajllion times! And you never listen,” you almost shout, evidently showing how much you were very much not holding anything back anymore.
Satoru’s expression morphs into something sheepish, avoiding looking directly at you as he rubs the back of his neck.
“I’m sorry,” he croaked out, tinges of guilt behind his words.
Oh, god. Now you were feeling a little bad for lashing out at him.
You swallow, exhaling the last of your frustration as you lift your workshirt over your head, bundling it up in your hands, revealing a fitted black tank top underneath.
“Whatever.”
You don’t spare him another glance while you’re walking back to the office room.
“L-look! I know I was being a little annoying—no, scratch that—really annoying about staying late, but I’ll make it up to you!” Satoru chirped, hands roaming up and down his backpack straps, “Look—besides, I totally owe that win to you. You’re, like, a godsend! That play was insane—I don’t even think I could’ve gotten to that point if I weren’t already reaching some sort of flow state. And the first time you came over—okay, yeah, sorry. I’m rambling. But the point is, I’ll do anything you want. Just say it!”
You stop in your tracks, turning to face him, crinkling your nose while he’s in front of you, nervously avoiding eye contact with you.
A tinge of pink surfaced behind his cheeks.
“You’ll do anything?” You scoffed.
“Yes! No arguments, no complaints, no nothing. I-I’ll do it! Clean the arcade with you for a whole week if you want—side to side—I’ll bring you dinner and take you out to a nice restaurant. I can listen to you rant about me to myself or whatever—maybe? If you want?”
You’re still too annoyed at him to really think about his offer. As he releases the straps of the backpack from his shoulder, you suddenly catch a glimpse of something that reminds you you’re fucking horny.
He rolls up his sleeves to reveal a pair of veins, bulging from his forearm to his fingers. The top of his hand is flushed, likely from the clicking of the abused arrow button below Donkey Kong’s screen, and the sight of those veins made you swallow.
What the hell?
It was kind of hot.
“Y/n? You don’t have to forgive me or whatnot, but you know if you have anything you wanna ask me for, I’ll do it—no questions asked!”
Honestly, whatever it was he was ranting his mindless nerdy thoughts about, you frankly, weren’t listening. Was it your stress talking, or the fact that you were ovulating, or maybe there wasn’t a particular reason for thinking it—but Satoru was looking a lot cuter than you remember him being.
His blue eyes sparkled with every crinkle of his eyelid, and his pupils, consuming all of it slowly behind his rimmed glasses.
Shining white hair, brushing against his cheek in arcade lighting—fuck, was his nose always that perfect? His cheeks looked so smooth that you could probably lick them and they’d have the same texture as tofu.
Honestly, the bonus was the fact that he was praising you. Sincerely, with everything on the line.
But even thinking all of that, you couldn’t stop seething about him making you stay up late for the past couple of weeks, all just to beat someone in a game. Hell, he needed to be humbled. And you were still horny.
And right now, you’re thinking to yourself—it’s really bad—that maybe, you want Satoru to help you forget about your stress. Like, actually.
“Yeah! But, I’m real thankful for everything—”
“Satoru.”
“Y-yeah?” He swallows, facing back towards you, cheeks warming with a gentle pink.
You’re standing waaaaay too close to him. Closer than you usually ever do if you’re not storming out to throw him out the back door, or leaning in to check on his newest high scores. So close that he notices your cleavage becoming more and more apparent in his peripheral vision.
He shouldn’t be looking at that, but when he looks at your face, you’re looking at him up and down like he’s a piece of meat.
“What—do I have something on my face?” He stumbles out, smoothing his hand around his cheeks.
Other than his perfect face, no—he doesn’t. When you’re this close up to him, you only now realise how big and fit he really was. When you were dragging him out of the arcade with just one hand, you hadn’t noticed how your hands were barely half the size of his bicep. He kept that thing hidden like a diamond in the mud.
Aside from what you know from his annoying stubbornness, Satoru continues to keep you wondering.
What else does he have to offer?
. . .
Apparently, he did have something on his face.
Your lips, probably, and your breath fogging up the glasses on his face like you guys were making out in a hot, steamy sauna room. But reality was, you were just in the office in the back. You told Satoru to just throw a few papers on the floor and move some of the supplies around, then he ended up carrying you over to rest you on the surface, eagerly palming your tit in his left hand as your hands gripped his hair.
“A-are you sure you’re okay with this?” He breathed out through your lips, “I…don’t really do things like this.”
“Yeah—I mean, that’s why I asked you, didn’t I?” You chuckle, thinking you were being pretty clear about your intentions, ”I’ll show you. Now, stop asking questions–you’re gonna make me dry again and piss me off? Do you want that?”
“N-No, I don’t,” Satoru muttered, leaning back in to continue this driving force of passion between his lips.
“‘Kay, then listen and touch me,” you say, holding him back with your knee as you strip your tank top off to reveal a black, laced scoop bra underneath.
His face is so easy to read—especially when his eyes widen like that, and you’re definitely feeling something harden beneath you.
“Fuck,” he mutters to himself, while you guide his hand over to your back.
“Yup, but first—take my bra off. Then do what you were doing before, except on my actual tits. This will make me wet, if you know.”
“Oh—okay. I’ll do that,” he gulps, fumbling with the strap on your back with both of his hands. “Now what? Oh, right—uhm, like this?” He asks, cupping the side of your breast while he starts rubbing your nipples, up and down. “Wow, they’re really soft.”
You glare at him while he works. “Didn’t I say no questions?”
“Y-yeah, sorry!” He stumbles out, seeing you relax your head back. “Does that feel good?”
You hum back a response. “Try circular motions, and a bit of pinching too—oh, yeah. Mmm, yeah, better,” you mumble, looking down at Satoru’s blushing focus on your chest.
“Pull it out.”
Satoru swallows and tilts his head. Did he hear you right?
“Pull it out,” you repeat, gesturing down to his bulging cock, practically begging to be released from the breadth of his pants.
“Wait—it’s embarrassing, though!”
You want to shout at him. “Do you wanna fuck, or not?!”
“YES!! I mean—yeah! If you’re sure.”
You’re getting a little annoyed about his sickly gentleman act. “‘Kay, then take it out. Let me show—hngh—you something,” he pinches your nipples, “I’ll take my pants off too,” you say, unbuttoning the rest of your shorts, blessing his vision with your soaking panties.
God, Satoru couldn’t actually believe this was happening. As much as he’d always thought you were seriously hot, and the reason he also liked coming to the arcade so often, he’d never imagined ever having the possibility of touching you like this.
As he gripped inside his jeans, he presented to you the prettiest cock you’d ever seen in your entire life.
And, holy fuck! He was big.
You gaped your mouth, looking back down at it, then at him. “Holy shit, you’re huge!” you exclaim.
This is nothing like your ex-hookup—in fact, consider it an entire level up!
Yeah, he was 6’3”, boasting biceps double the size of your hands, but, fuck, you didn’t expect him to be that big?
And he’d been hiding that from the public?
You had to applaud yourself for being blessed to witness the first moments with this virgin dick.
“Uhm, thanks! That’s not a bad thing, is it?”
You shake your head.
“Quite the opposite”
Now you’re deciding that there’s really no more point in wasting time. Your pussy was practically aching—pulsing while you were thinking about Satoru shoving that thing in you.
It’d been a good week since you’d last been really fucked by a guy, so you were not giving up this opportunity. Even if it was, Wonderboy.
“Use your fingers, here,” you commanded, moving his right hand down inside your wet underwear, “‘nd come closer.”
Satoru steps in immediately,
“Okay—y-yeah, what do I do—”
Before he can muster out another dumb question, you begin to smooth out the tip with your palm, lathering your fingers from the precum oozing at the top.
“W-wait, hngh—”
“Try putting one in. And move in and out—slowly, until I tell you to go faster,” you mumble, moving your own hands, up and down against his cock while he holds back his moans.
“S-sure,” he breathes out, slowly inserting one of his digits in you.
They’re slightly cold, slender, but long, and, honestly, you even feel your own pussy sucking them in, pooling wet fluids all around his finger as he pumps them in and out of your cunt.
“Y-you know, I’ve always read about how people’s insides are obviously warm because—oh, fuck, that’s good—because your body heat—hnghh!—but, I didn’t think it’d feel this soft,” he rambled, face buried into your shoulder as you played with his cock in your hand.
Even now, he still wanted to make comments like these! You didn’t want to laugh, but seriously, how could he be so annoying?
“Ngh, faster—and ’Toru. Jus’ stop talking,” you mumbled, pushing his shoulders back to make him face you. His glasses were almost going to fall off and were essentially useless, seeing how fogged up they were.
“Yeah—s-sorry.”
As he moves another finger into your hole, stretching out your insides more, you’re starting to really feel it. The friction between his fingers and your slick is seriously building something in you that you’re waiting to save for something better.
Satoru doesn’t really know what takes over him, but he’s feeling real good with your hands slowly tormenting his cock, he can’t really think straight. And when you can’t think, the first thing that overrides is instinct.
Satoru’s first instinct, then, was to recall what he thought made women feel good. And then, remembers that around an inch or two in, was the average woman’s G-spot. And what else could he offer other than the two fingers pumping in you?
The office is so hot. Satoru’s cock feels like it’s being tortured by the slow rubs you give it, but he really doesn’t want to complain again. While your cunt is spread out all pretty and wide in front of him, he quickens his pace, curling his fingers in when it reaches the deepest it can. As your walls clench down on his digits, he’s thinking:
Damn, she looks so fucking sexy.
“Hnghhh, shit—you’re kinda good at this,” you muster out, wrapping your arms around his neck to hoist yourself from slumping against the table under you, “I—ugh, fuckkk—I totally thought you were a virgin!”
“Oh yeah—I am. But, uhm, well—I’ve watched some porn before—and women’s anatomy isn’t the most complicated thing, so figured—hah, fuck!—maybe, this is something you’d like?” he breathes out, “Can you go faster? Feels’good.”
As soon as he says that, he’s really starting to play with your pussy. At that point, your meek hand job (attempt to keep him hard until you were ready to finish) was a goal you’d given up on, and you were doing your best to just get through his intense fingering.
Damn, Satoru! He knew how to learn fast!
“W-wait, Satoru—don’t just—”
Before you can scold him again, he leans his head down to flick his tongue on your clit, watching you jolt.
He’s working like it’s going to cost him his life.
Throbbing cock, still hard, and aching between his hips, fingers folding in to find your spot, all the while lapping his tongue around your sensitive clit while you’re trembling underneath him. It doesn’t take him much to see how much you enjoyed it when you started gripping tufts of his white hair, moaning out his name with no shame.
“You taste good,” he vibrates into your clit, feeling your whimpers.
“Hah, ohhhh god! ‘Toru, I’m g’na cum—shit,” you mewl, rutting your hips as he quickened his pace, feeling a coil continuing to tighten in your lower stomach “don’t d-do that! Seriously, ‘Toru—I’m gonna kill you!”
Then it comes crashing out—waves of pussy clamping and euphoria crashed down, pumping as he continued sucking your slick through your high. Satoru groaned as he felt his own cock release his own ropes of cum onto the floor beneath him.
You twitched, gripping his hair so hard you were scared to have ripped any of his hair out.
“Fuck,” you muster out, heaving as you watch Satoru blush up at you, glasses falling down his nose again, as you see his face covered in your cum.
“I-I’m sorry,” he protested, “I just thought you were feeling—”
“Sit in the chair,” you commanded, shoving him onto the office chair behind him, as you climbed off the table.
“I’m serious! I-I’m sorry! Please, don’t kill me, “ he pleads with you.
But you’re too busy thinking about how Satoru might just be it, and climb on top of him.
“You’re gonna get hard again.”
Satoru widens his eyes, seeing you lean back in to crash your lips into his, grinding your clothed cunt back on his resting dick. God, Satoru was seriously going to lose his mind over this.
As he opened his mouth for your sloppy kisses, wet sounds exuding from your mouths, he’d gripped your hips, hoping you wouldn’t get mad and remove his hands from you again.
“You’re good at learning,” you pant into his lips, feeling his dick perk up underneath you once again, “now, this time, you can put this in.”
“Really?”
You reached behind you, grabbing a condom from the back pocket of your jean shorts, then threaded it on top, both of you hearing a snap as the plastic fixed in place.
“Good thing I had XL condoms, otherwise I’d send you home,” you joked, rubbing the bottom of his cock once more, before positioning it to move aside your clothed entrance.
As you lifted yourself, you finally slid down his length.
“F-fuck, Y/n! Wait—I don’t think—it feels like my dick is gonna fall off!” He whimpers out, tugging at your waist as his head lies into your chest. You're completely tight, and despite you being spread wide for him and gushing with slick, he's basically stretching you miles out.
“Y-yeah? Hngh, that’s the point—you’ll feel real good,” you mumble, inching your way slowly down and up his length.
“Y/n—Y/n, fuck! I’m serious, it feels—urgh, it feels—” He’s seriously groaning into you, muttering nonsense under his breath while you’re bouncing up and down.
“Use your words,” you coo, tickling his ear with your breath.
Satoru’s eyes are begging not to roll to the back of his head.
“Hngh—it feels so good,” he finally admits, jutting his hips deeper into you. A pang of pleasure shoots through your body, which makes you clench down on his cock even more than it did before.
That fucking dick reached beyond the depths of what you ever knew before!
Satoru clearly wasn’t holding back—he couldn’t. Your arms were fixed around his neck, watching his eyes roll back, and him leaning back as he moved his hips into you. You’re both overstimulated.
“Yeah—oh, fuck! Yeah, ‘Toru! Mmmm, good—you’re doing so good, ‘Toru,” you pant to him, watching his mouth gape, and cock throb in you while you start to bounce up and down on your own.
“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Satoru praises, digging his fingers again into your waist while you ride him, your walls still warming around him.
It's good sex. His cock is practically kissing your cervix, filling you to the brim; you don't even need to touch anything else to make you feel like you’ll have the most earth-shattering orgasm ever. Even your ex-hookup with his dick could never make you feel anything close to this.
His whines continued to fill the room, groans still breathing into your collarbone, and you were seriously thinking of actually letting him stay much longer than he ever was before from now on.
Kissing Satoru now felt like it had to be done. His cock inside you, and his lips with yours, was going to be a packaged deal. You were branding it, the DK for Donkey Kong special, since all he ever really cared about was jumping over obstacles, like pissing you off, and playing games.
“Y/n, I think I have to go,” he moaned out between your kisses, “It’s gonna come out again!”
You chuckled at his phrase, then quickened the pace with your own whimpers, leaving your mouth. “Cum, you need to cum, Satoru.”
“Fuck, I need to cum—Y/n. Imgonnacum—I’m gonna cum!” Satoru heaves out, dick jerking inside your pussy as a filthy whimper pours from his lips, pushing out his second orgasm of the night with white cum pooling into the sides of the condom.
You groan while he's still pumping out his load, hips oscillating on his as you feel your own building.
“Oh, god, that feels—hngh, I just finished, though” he mumbled, chest heaving beneath him as you continued to ride into your own high.
“Mmm—yeah, I know—ngh—I just haven’t come yet.”
You’re thinking you feel like a maniac; still jumping your hips on his cock while he sat there, heaving through his first two orgasms, but you need this.
You don’t know if Satoru really understands it, but he proves you wrong once he grips your waist, pulling you closer to him, as he cups your right breast, then leans in to start sucking on your left.
“Stop—wait, ‘Toru! I’m already close, you don’t need to—EEK! NGH—stop!” you cry out, as his tongue continues to circle your nipple, his thumb pinching and rubbing against your other. You already feel like coming, but him rubbing against your chest was going to send you to the other side.
Thighs burning, your core is waiting to rupture, and cum slicking down the sides of your cunt. You're so close, and he knows it—and he’s still sucking.
“Oh, god, M’gonna cum,” you babble, “fuckfuckfuck—M'gonna cum—I can’t—NGH!!”
“Mmm—so pretty,” he mumbles into your flesh.
Then it releases, a final crash, while Satoru clings to you close to him, mouth still sucking as he peers up above his classes to see you twitching around his cock. Your walls spasm around him as he pulls out his cock, rubbing its wetness against your clit while you get through your pinnacle, hands flexing as you level out the tension.
Satoru finally releases your tit from his lips, right hand holding the back of your head from tipping over and collapsing behind you. You’re practically on the border of just sleeping in his arms, before you realize you’re genuinely fucking in the office room of your part-time job.
“Satoru, you’re fucking good,” you praise, kissing his temple before nudging your head back into the nook of his shoulder.
“Really? T-thanks,” he heaves out, breathing out as he lifts his glasses from his face to the top of his head, and bundles up the condom in his hands. “Can I throw this out?”
“Mhm, trash is behind you,” you mumble, looking back at his face.
Another wonder: how his frames were even able to stay on his face. He looked too relaxed—much more than you wanted him to be.
And after seeing his satisfied expression, you debate on whether or not you should reveal the secret you’ve been debating on telling him for the past two weeks, as he’s earnestly pursued beating games at the arcade.
But you decide, why not?
He’s already seen your entire pussy.
“Wanna know something?”
Satoru perks up, arm still resting on your waist, and dick still out while he’s trying to stuff it back into his pants. “Yeah?” He answers, slightly skeptical about what kind of new thing you’ll lecture him about this time.
“I’m Jacker14449.”
Satoru didn't quite hear you.
"Wait, repeat?"
“I’m Jacker14449,” you say, “those high scores. They're mine.”
“...What?”
Satoru looks at you in disbelief.
You?
Beautiful, hot, cool, non-loser arcade worker he’d had a crush on for the past three months was his personal sworn rival? That had to be bullshit.
No, it must be—there was no way he’d talked about you to you. He wanted to die. Right there and then, this was not what he thought you were going to say.
He felt something shatter inside of him.
“You’re lying.”
You shrugged.
“Who else would spend that much time at the arcade other than you and the people who work there?”
Satoru gapes at you, far too much in shock for him to really process it. His brain is short-circuiting (something that rarely happens), and he’s honestly too appalled to really think of a response.
When he looks back at you, he knows you’re waiting for a response.
The same way your eyes look so intrigued and cute when you are actually interested in something.
Like the way that you looked at the one guy who used to come in all the time to talk to you during your shift and make you laugh while Satoru was trying to pretend like he didn’t notice, while he was learning how to play Defenders.
No, yeah, he had nothing to say.
But it’s okay, probably, because a big something down there certainly did all the thinking for him—a rising cock standing up again beneath your hips.
And Satoru mutters.
“No fucking way.”
author's note. hellooo!! first fic here... very excited to have shared WONDER BOY with u!! if youve reached it this far, i thank you for reading and for getting through it haha! it's been a while since i wrote so hopefully it wasn't too cringe or unbearable (^^;) smut scene very much inspired by @/reignpage's gojo fic, but very far from reaching her level of skill yet! ( ⸝⸝´ ᵕ `⸝⸝) reblogs and interactions are very appreciated and i'm excited to share more with u guys soon :D!!! comments, constructive criticisms are always appreciated so feel free to send in my asks at the top of my page or shoot me a dm! thanks C:
Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 A/N Spin off
Summary: A self aware!AU with Caleb and NonMC! reader.
Tags: Caleb x reader, Caleb x NonMC! reader, Caleb x fem!reader, Stressedout!reader.
Inspired by: @ittybittyfanblog
Word count: 1k
*"when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you"*
*- Friedrich Nietzsche.*
You've heard that quote.., maybe even read it somewhere before but it didn't matter, not when your eyes were starting to ache, a slight burning sensation pulsing behind your eyelids. The only thing staring back at you were the questions in your assignment.
The heels of your palm digging into your eyes, rubbing them, trying to drown out the sensation. You had work to do, upcoming tests countless assignments, projects- the dates and deadlines were already starting to blur.
Maybe you should sleep. Take a little break, it wouldn't hurt to rest... The sickening feeling of guilt and shame in your gut was going to stay there- despite the efforts to try and study a little more.
It was your fault, really. You didn't do the things you should've on time, procrastinating and postponing work when you shouldn't have. Unfortunately, time never waits for anyone.
A click of the power button broke the silence surrounding your room, closing your laptop. You stood up from your desk, stretching your arms over your head, the sound of bones cracking filling your ears. Slumping down on the bed felt much better- the cold sheets against your heated skin felt good, relaxing even.
Your tongue darting out to lick your lips, feeling the chapped skin and the stinging sensation sparking up when the fleshy organ touched a small cut on your lip, caused by the frequent biting and pulling of the skin on your lips.
A sigh left your lips, swallowing the dryness in the back of your throat. You felt thirsty, your throat felt dry.. empty but not enough to burn and that was reason enough for your mind to stop you from getting up, along with the effort it was going to take to just get yourself a glass of water.
Laying against the cold sheets, your mind wandered thinking about something that might get you to sleep. Sleep was slowly becoming a foreign concept- something that happened few and far in between.
Your college studies wasn't making it any better- Doing a degree in law along with criminology honors. You really were crazy to have chosen these subjects but your curiosity often went against your decisions. The need to understand and learn more about the few things that you were interested in.
There was only silence surrounding you, until a small **ping!** vibrated through the room and in your ears, looking down at your phone to see a message from the game you spent so much of your time on; Love and Deep space and of course, your precious love interest, Caleb.
It was almost insane how your eyes lit up when the loading screen of the game showed up. That pretty boy sitting quietly on the leather chair, asleep. A small poke on his cheek was enough for him to let out the usual autogenerated response you always heard.
He was so cute, so pretty, so.. human. It was one of the reasons you liked him so much. Over every other love interest, he just felt like a person. A person you could understand- a person you could relate to. You understood why he did the things he did.
Tapping on the small chat button, Caleb was standing there- looking at you. Interacting with him was comforting in a sense. His little teasing yet sincere comments were enough to make your heart stutter.
It had became routine by now, doing the daily tasks- getting gems, playing on the claw machine and the kitty cards. Yeah, maybe the kitty cards would be a good idea today. You still had one kitty card attempt left this week.
Playing kitty cards with Caleb was fun to say the atleast. It was annoying how good he was at that game. You could never get three wins in a row, sometimes it made you want to punch him through the screen, affectionately of course.
Just when you thought you were going to win, all it took was two cards for the whole game to be flipped in his favor. It was so frustrating.
"If you keep winning, I'm not going to play with you.." You muttered to yourself, maybe you should stop talking to yourself when no one was going to reply back. "Maybe you should stop and take care of yourself if you can't even focus on the game," Caleb replied in that small text box.
That was new, you hadn't seen a reply like that before.. Now that you think about it, did your MC even say anything for Caleb to reply back? Maybe you had missed it, too focused on the game, too focused on him.
After miserably loosing the kitty card mini game, you decided to just chat with him by clicking on tête-à-tête. Talking about studies.. wanting to hear his comforting words but with those limited options, how could you tell about how terrible study habits, your conflicting feelings?
You felt stupid, incompetent, like a failure for not being able to complete some simple assignments but how do you tell all that to a fictional love interest in a game?
It was shameful in a way, relying so much on the opinions and comforting of something that wasn't even real? It was just so weird.. how he mattered so much to you.
Your thumb caressed the screen of your phone where his cheek was, as if he could feel your touch. It made a burning sensation flare up in the back your throat as the brightness of your screen burned into your retinas.
Exhaustion of the day catching upto you. Your body curling up on the sheets of your bed. Yeah, maybe sleep would be better. Maybe you'd dream of him.
A/N- Hi everyone, I'm a new writer so this work might feel like really dry and dull. This is just part 1. I'm going to write more. This fic is inspired by Error 404 fanfic of @ittybittyfanblog. I hope you like it.
Pairing: Secret admirer!gojo x fem!reader
Synopsis: You randomly got a text from an unknown number and turns out they are a secret admirer. It seems that they are determined to keep their identity secret, not even giving the slightest hint.
You love being Satoru Gojo's girlfriend, he dotes on you, takes you on dates, spoils you - just one little problem, you are perpetually ovulating around him! Is wanting your nerdy boyfriend's cock in your mouth really such a bad thing? Satoru wants to wait for the perfect moment for your first time, though! He'll totally wait even when you're wearing that slutty lil dress and grinding on him, right?
pairings - nerd! gojo x girlfriend! reader
warnings - cute and silly, oral over panties/boxers, Satoru edging tf outta us -- reader is horny, Shoko/Hime, Sukuna being a fratboy dick, jealous Toru, rough blow jobs, p in v sex, first time, squirting, teasing, fingering, creampie, consent, breed kink, making your nerdy boyfriend feral and spit in your mouth <3
art creds here!!
this was a comm for my angel @cantarcantar!! ty for understanding that my life was like INSANE - ilysm for being patient <3 wc - 10.1k
It took you almost two years of crushing on Satoru Gojo to actually become his girlfriend, and you’re loving every minute of it. From being too damn shy to admit you like him, to very awkwardly trying to confess and every chance just utterly failing – to then instead becoming the very best of friends.
You two were finally ‘officially together’ as a couple.
Oh, and it was everything, being in his arms, swallowed up by those huge biceps he had hidden underneath his starch white dress shirts. Hearing that little laugh from his lips, all of those sweet little kisses he bestowed upon you – truly, all the feelings blossoming between the two of you in the most beautiful way, especially over the months of truly being his girlfriend.
He’d take you out for all day movie marathons, going to play bumper cars, mini golf, you name it – Satoru was down for it. Every date was a meticulously planned out one too, with little to no down time aside from the drive to and from. Perhaps that’s where you would sneak just the littlest pecks on his neck, hear his sighs as he gripped the gear shift of that fancy sports car.
Satoru adored you – and you adored him.
You were all his. There was no one else in the entire world than the boy who could never quite tie that tie on correctly, always just a little crooked for you to straighten out.
Yet with that came you being unreasonably horny all the fucking time, who wouldn’t be with Satoru though? Those long fingers pressing into your waist, the way that bulge pressed between your thighs, plump lips slipping up your throat. Every time it even got just a little close, maybe you were grinding so good that you were about to cum from that – he paused it.
Wearing a cute, bashful little smile on his face, fogged up, thick rimmed glasses – murmuring sweetheart in a voice that’s designed to make your pussy drip, and you feel like a complete pervert for wanting to beg for more. God, imagining his cock in your throat alone had you desperate and needy, let alone having him filling you, pumping you full, taking you first.
Maybe you are a pervert, truly.
You’ve tried so hard to be patient, you want him to want it as badly as you do, but every time you’re making out with your boyfriend – the top of the dean’s list and ultimate dungeon master for DnD – Satoru Gojo?
Every time his big ass hands grip your waist and he drags you down against his length, before he puts a pause on it?
You can’t even think about it.
You’re pumping your fingers in your needy cunt just thinking about it after every damn date with this boy. Whining out in your bed with your hips bucking up, gasps escaping your lips desperately in your empty room. Pumping faster and faster until you’ve got that sticky release all over your hand.
It’s almost as if you have this sort of ritual now, before you see your boyfriend and right after/.
Your rose toy is probably fucking tired of you.
As if you don’t you ache so damn bad around him it’s painful, hard not to shamelessly hump his thigh till you cum. No, the toy? This takes the edge off just a bit, but even the way you moan his name in your sleep is endlessly hilarious to your poor roommates that have to hear you between the walls of your off campus apartment.
“Still a virgin?” Utahime asked with a laugh when you had woken up this morning, getting ready to see Satoru.
“Not by choice,” you grumble, shaking your head and grabbing a coffee pod from the little rack, popping your favorite inside and pressing the on button. The aroma hits immediately, waking your tired brain.
You’d had the filthiest damn dream of him fucking your tits, cock sliding up and down in messy strokes that had you needing a damn shower right now.
You’re just perpetually ovulating.
Satoru is the perfect boyfriend, truly he is. He’s sweet, he’s a gentleman despite his blue eyes and where they glance too long. Mostly, he cares. You’ve fallen so in love with him so quickly over these past few months, but every time you think that things might progress, Satoru stops it. Gently lifting you up off his lap and sighing, kissing his way up your jaw, his snowy lashes tickling your cheek.
‘Sweetheart, let’s pause this,’ he would murmur those words all sweet and sultry against your skin after almost sucking on those nipples that just stay hard around this man, instead hovering a breath away so it ghosts your tits. Those huge hands brushing just underneath them.
It’s torture, really.
‘Oh, okay Toru,’ you’d whisper back, he’d moan and kiss up your neck, breaths tickling your skin. ‘Mnh…’
‘You’re so beautiful, god look at you.’
It was just wrong to talk to you like that!
“You poor baby. At least you have your toy collection,” Shoko teases, sneaking in and brushing your hair back. “Extensive, too.”
You flip her off, peeking at the phone then and seeing Satoru's name pop up.
Study session?
“Dick session?” She asks, you gasp, as if affronted at such a suggestion.
“I would never assume such a thing!”
You hope so.
*****
It’s not.
No, it’s not a dick session at all.
It really is an actual goddamn study session – both of you were sitting there in Satoru’s living room, his place was far fancier than anywhere, but that came from him being the Dean’s very son. It intimidated you a little at first, but now you’ve grown comfortable, as he made you feel so special.
Today though?
Well, you can’t focus on anything but how badly you’d love to kneel and suck your nerdy boyfriend, his thighs spread wide all slutty.
God his legs are long.
You bet his cock is-
“And this equation?” Satoru teasingly asks you, distracting you from your slutty freaking brain.
You're not even sure what stumbles out of your mouth for an answer, without saying how thick you think the circumference of his cock must be.
That is something you’ve done with your past experiences, and you know you’re good at it. You could easily deep throat a man and you wanted to see his cock so damn bad – could he be a challenge, though?
Your eyes drift down his chest, he peeks at you curiously.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asks casually, spinning his pen between his fingers and studying you. “Hard question?”
“Um… yeah, a very hard time…”
Stop that! Stop looking at his dick print!
“The question is hard?”
“Uh… the question… yes.” You feel like a damn pervert every time you’re around him, can’t you chill and let things happen when they happen?
He sighs and stands up, stretching his arms up over his head, his abdomen revealed when his dress shirt rides up, showing those little v cuts that make your ovulating brain just a million times worse. It’s like you’re in heat. It's so pathetic right now – maybe you should avoid him till it stops.
“Let’s take a break then.”
“Yeah?”
He chuckles at how eager you are at the thought and comes up to you, leaning down with a hand on each arm of your chair, tilting his head so some of that soft white hair falls over his forehead. You brush a bit of it back and he kisses your palm, lips warm and sweet.
“You’ve been such a good girl, how can I not treat you a bit?” Your heart hammers in your chest, until those next words spill from his lips. “Boba?”
“What? Huh?” You blink as he eases back, pulling up his phone and leaning against the desk. “Boba??”
“Yeah, Boba, I’ll buy you some, I know you love it,” he smiles curiously as you bury your face in your hands. “No Boba? Matcha then?”
“I’m um…” About to cum if he touches you once even. “No, I guess Boba is fine. Thanks Toru.” you manage to say, thighs pressing together, Satoru frowns, kneeling now and gently taking your hands off your face, seeing your blush.
“Are you sick!? You’re all flushed!”
“I’m not-”
“You’re burning,” he touches your cheek in concern, and you almost fucking feel bad – you’re not sick, you’re ovulating. “Baby girl, let’s get you to a doctor right now!"
“No, no I feel fine, I’m not warm because of that,” you shift in your seat and whine out at just that friction. “Promise.”
He frowns and watches you carefully. “You’re hurting, it could be the start of something!”
“Well yeah I hurt,” you sigh as he spreads your thighs and kneels between them, shoving at him. “You’ll make it even worse down there.”
“I’ll make what worse, exactly? Your…” He trails off then, seeing your panties and blushing himself, pink dancing across his high cheekbones and dusting them in that rose. “Y-your… your panties are so… uh… s-soaked and…”
You should freak out at this proximity, at just how much he can finally see of you, but all you can do is whine again, as his eyes shoot back up to yours. “I’m okay, promise.”
“Am I neglecting my pretty girlfriend?” He asks softly, just a little nervous. Satoru has never touched anyone but you, but he’s extensively studied the female anatomy, and how to make you cum.
He just wanted your first time to be perfect.
That’s why he was waiting – the last thing he needed was for you to not enjoy your first time, though he knows you’re a little more experienced than he is – Satoru’s hardly kissed anyone before you. Not because he couldn’t – he just had no interest in that sort of thing until he met you – and even then, he really couldn’t find the damn courage to ask you out forever.
“No I’m being a damn pervert,” you cover your face and he chuckles at that.
“You’re being a what, now?”
You sink into the seat, mumbling. “You heard me.”
He’d been your best friend for so long, thinking there was no chance in the world – always jerking his cock with any article of clothing you’d leave in his room, like a filthy depraved pervert – and you think you were one perverted here?
Does him wanting the timing to be just right making you think that?
Satoru exhales softly, just a hint of what he wants to say slipping from his plump lips.
“What, do you touch your little pussy thinking of me?”
His voice has you lowering your hands, he spreads those thighs and slides up your skirt, making you moan out, head falling back, your hands gripping the arms of the chair even tighter.
“Wha-?” You can’t even finish your damn word.
“Asked you a question, baby.”
“God,” he’s diabolical without knowing – or maybe he does know. You’re trembling as you lean back, letting his thumb brush on your clit and gasping at the touch, already getting slick from a brush on your skin. “What question?”
“Not paying attention, tsk,” he clicks his tongue and his teeth nip your inner thigh, sinking in and making you whine out. “Do you touch her?”
“Y-yes,” he hums a bit, tugging your panties up until your lips are visible, that dark spot growing as slick starts pouring. “Please…”
“Be patient, baby,” he leans back now, smirking at you. “Show me?”
“Are you sure you…”
“Please? I wanna see so bad,” you blush now, you masturbate sure – but not in front of people! “I’ll show you?”
“Show me you um… jerking off?”
“Yeah, I mean… yeah?” You sigh a bit.
“Toru…”
“Mmm?”
“Why don’t I um… suck you?” He is bright red now, he’s almost busting just thinking of your mouth – that won’t do. His first blow job and he busts in one go!? No, Satoru has to jerk it three times before he gets the privilege of fucking your pretty little mouth, of feeling your pink tongue on him.
“Not yet.”
“Not yet? But you’re so hard,” you giggle and tease him with your foot nudging his thigh, he glares and catches it, shoving it wide. “Not yet, then. So you just wanna see me touch myself?”
“God yes, dreamed of that since…” He trails off then, he doesn’t want to admit just how long he’s jerked off to you, because it was before you even knew who Satoru Gojo was. “Lemme see.”
“Okay…” you lean back, running your fingertips over your panties, slipping underneath and leaning your head back, eyes fluttering shut, hearing Satoru’s soft little whine. “Toru…”
“Fuck,” he thought he could handle this, but he’s utterly failing, he can’t even see your pretty pussy and he’s already throbbing, leaking so much pre it hurts, sticking to his brand new digimon boxers. “You’re s’pretty, sweetheart.”
You blush as you look at him with dazed eyes, running little circles right around your puffy clit, coated in hot slick as it dribbles out of your panties. He swipes some of it on his fingers, studying it carefully, his tongue going to lap at it, moaning as the sweetness coats his tongue.
“Oh you’re t-tasting me,” it makes you needier, until you have to plunge two fingers inside your messy, quivering hole, that loud squelch echoing in your ears. He’s gripping your thigh with one hand bruising until you cry out.
“Fuck, so s-sorry… baby I hurt… y-you…”
“No, no, like it,” he moans and puts his hand back on your thigh, squeezing again so hard it aches. He's jerking his cock faster, whining out when he sees your slick fingers pull out of your panties. You press your cum soaked fingers to his lips and he eagerly wraps them around, sucking them off. “Toru…”
“So sweet, my pretty girlfriend,” his glasses fog up when he leans down, licking your inner thigh that is trembling, sliding higher until his tongue is on you – but it's not on your skin, it's on the soaked cotton of your panties.
“Fuck…” he moans as he gets those juices that are spilling through the fabric, his and squeezing his own cock as your thighs sit over his shoulders.
“More, please,” you're tugging at his hair so hard it hurts, bucking up your hips for more. “I need you, please.”
“Such a needy girlfriend,” he murmurs, thumb circling his drooling tip, looking up at you with desperation in his pretty blue eyes. “You want me to lick it more for you?”
Your answer is a little nod, even having him lick you over your panties is more than you've ever had done, and fuck it feels good. Sinful as he trails a long, slow stripe over the fabric, the tip stopping right over your twitchy clit, his moan is muffled against the damp cotton.
“Toru!” He's lost in your scent, in that taste, the little hints of lace decorating your panties rough against his tongue, the sound is fucking filthy.
Satoru tugs those panties up more firmly, strings of gossamer saliva dripping and dissolving, peering up at you with flushed cheeks. “Like that, baby? Is this what you were thinking about instead of studying?”
Your only answer is to nod quickly, a jerky little motion as he sees those puffy lips just swallowing the damp material. He swipes his tongue over and over, the heat and wetness of his mouth making your entire body tremble. You feel it heating up, hearing the messy sounds of his own cock fucking his fist, wishing it were your throat instead.
"Oh god, Toru," you whimper out it so pathetically, your hands tangling in his soft white hair, fluffy and silky underneath your touch, trying to pull him closer, to shove his face where you need it. “Not enough, mnh!”
He chuckles against your puffy cunt, the vibration and the quick lave of his tongue have you on edge. Pulse racing as he had the audacity to tease you, landing a wet smack on your cunt that had you pathetic.
"Ah - ah," he clicks his tongue, catching your wrists in one of his stupidly large hands and pinning them against your waist, smirking at you in a way that's utterly not dirty at all. "No touching yet, sweetheart. I'm taking my time with you."
“Meanie,” he chuckles again, but you love it – feeling that strength as he grips you so tight. “My panties are ruined, Toru.”
“Mmm. Yes they are,” he tugs them again, looking at how wet the material is, just a pathetic little scrap of fabric with your juices pouring.
Instead of showing you mercy and moving them, he just presses them further against you again, tongue shoving that fabric until it's flush with your needy clit, you swear you can feel his tastebuds as that tongue drags through the fabric, pausing everywhere that has you jerking and honing in.
Like this nerdy boy is studying you.
Oh. He is.
He's methodical, almost clinical with his research of your needy, clothed cunt just separated by this pathetic little piece of fabric, his tongue pressing more firmly against your soppy lil hole. She is pulsing around nothing, torturous strokes, pressing his fingers up and down, you're hot and sticky underneath his touch.
“Toru!” Your wrists are still pinned, his cock forgotten even though it's dripping down onto the soft, plush rug below his knees. Satoru finds your clit again and looks up under snowy lashes, you watch the drips of slick connect with that wickedly long tongue.
“Mmm. I bet I could see myself inside you,” he whispers, you suck in a breath at that, as if he is measuring the distance of your entrance to your belly button, easing your wrists to tug up your top, nipping your puffy lips over the fabric. “Scientifically.”
“Then experiment, scientifically.” He chuckles like the little shit he is, finding your clit once more, a hand pressing where he imagines his cock would bulge out.
“You are so needy f'me, s'pretty like this,” his words slur as he wraps his plump lips around your twitchy clit, barely concealed and swollen underneath the cotton material that is dripping wet. He pulls it in his mouth and sucks it hard through your panties, humming against you.
You're aching, cunt filling his hungry mouth as your hands land back on his hair, his movements making you cry out and buck your hips against his mouth for more.
“So sweet right now, god, look at that…”
Satoru is so close to cumming when he grabs his cock at the base again, squeezing so goddamn hard – he could almost bet that if he felt your cunt without the fabric, he'd spurt his white ropes everywhere.
Make a mess of you.
“Mnh. You close, sweetheart?”
Your answer is a jerky little nod, as he keeps torturing you with this fucking barrier, his teeth grazing that tiny clit ever so lightly through the fabric, making you scream out, your head falling back. Your panties are absolutely ruined now, utterly transparent with your slick and his spit coating them, your sweet little cries rushing through his ears.
Satoru? Well, he laps at the mess he's making happily, his tongue coating the entire area in circles that deliberately avoid that spot until you're twitching, tears falling down your cheeks.
"Such a messy girl," he moans out those words, eyes black when they peek up at you, his voice husky as your slick clings to his lips. "Soaking these pretty little panties f’me.”
“Please, Toru… move ‘em please,” he smirks and decides to have mercy on you, tugging them to the side of one of your lips and exhaling, watching the slick drool and spill down. You gasp as the air hits your cunt, already aching and needy, the dampness making it a cool shock.
“Fuck, you're so pretty,” he murmurs, his cock just about to bust without his touch, he glides his tongue from your ass all the way to your clit, looking right up at you. “Is this what you were thinking of, hmm? My tongue inside you?”
“Your cock, too,” he chuckles against you, but just a couple more flicks has you close, as he spreads your cunt wide, studying your every expression.
“Look at that. My slutty little girlfriend.”
Satoru is trying his best to hold it together, but when his tongue glides into your gummy walls and they grip him, he's too far gone, slurping up every bit of the cum that just pours out. You shatter so damn pretty, squirting all over his face, dripping down his chin until it's glossy, his cock starts pulsing right with your hole, imagining her milking him.
“F-fuckk….”
“Toru, mnh! S'good I… please…” You’re overheated, body sensitive, it’s just not enough, even with his tongue lavishing every bit of your pussy.
Not enough.
“Please what, baby? Mnh,” he grips his veiny cock as he cums with his tongue on your clit, more of your mess drenching his throat, his face, his shirt. His white ropes coat his hand, lashes fluttering shut as he savors your jumping clit in his mouth, whining against you.
“Want your cock in my mouth, Toru please…” he exhales, breath making you jolt, looking up at you with a blush.
“I um…” he leans back on his knees and you see the mess, blushing at it.
“I didn't touch you though…”
“Didn't need to,” he's clearly a little embarrassed, you take his cum soaked hand then – dripping white – and wrap your mouth around one of his thick fingers. “Oh fuck…”
You suck him right off, tasting that salty white substance and moaning as it hits your taste buds. Satoru pulls back and laps it off his own fingers, before kissing you right with it, the mess spilling between your mouths and dripping down.
Satoru Gojo – your nerdy boyfriend with an insane Digimon collection was a fucking freak, greedily drinking his own cum off your mouth.
You’re trembling when the door knocks, and you faintly remember that he has ordered you boba. He’s the epitome of a perfect boyfriend after that, considerate, caring, cleaning the little rivulets of your own release from your inner thighs – you’re stuck back on the opposite side of the bed, cuddling him and watching a movie.
Satoru even has the audacity to snore after, heavy body wrapping as you ache to get filled by him – at least the movie was so damn boring you drift off right next to him.
****
“I’m gonna die a virgin,” you mumble to Shoko and Utahime the next weekend, aside from more heated kisses and grinding on Satoru’s thigh after your well planned out dates – nothing.
You’re aching.
How much use could your rose toy really see!? And now you even have two more toys going along with it, though you doubt any of them are getting close to Satoru and how good he must feel. No ‘clit sucker’ could come close to what that nerdy little mouth could do.
“You look like you’re dying, girl, damn…” Utahime earns your glare. “Is it that bad?”
“He finally got me off and…” You blush now, unable to finish your sentence, remembering his tongue drinking up your juices.
“Does he know what a clit is?”
“Very much so, it was so good.”
They look surprised.
“You all have no clue, he really was,” Shoko laughs at that, leaning back and hitting the vape, handing it over to you. “No, no.”
“You need a smoke, sweets,” you grimace, brushing your hair back, pacing back and forth as the two girls watch you, snuggling with each other. “You’re pacing holes in the carpet.”
“I can’t handle this, I just… god I wanna suck his dick, is it so terrible? He hasn’t even let me touch it. I sound like a horny ass man, I hate it. I wanna respect him, I really do.”
“You wanna respect him with his cock in your throat?” Shoko finishes.
“Yes. I mean!? I will respect him without the cock in my mouth! You two are menaces.”
They’re laughing like the brats they are, blowing smoke in each other’s mouths, you damn near moan in frustration. Satoru’s gotten you off that one time, then since then he has gone right back to worshipping you in the sweet way he always did, as if you’ll what – forget about his tongue?
His stupidly long fingers…
The cum on your tongue that you lapped right off!?
The taste.
“Ugh -” you lean back and sink further into the couch. “I really am gonna die.”
“Can’t die, we’ve got that party tonight,” Utahime teases, kissing Shoko’s lips and giggling just a bit, you pout at the two of them.
In public Satoru would kiss your hand at best.
Where on earth even had that freak come from that spit his cum in your mouth last week!? He’s all gone again – the pocket protector wearing Nerd Gojo in his place, like some twin fucking took over for a minute.
“I can’t go to a party and get drunk, I’ll make a fool of myself around him, one drink and my pussy has a mind of its own…” You finally sit down, plopping back into the seat. “I feel like a pervert.”
“You are! Let’s just call you fucking pervy Sage.”
“Hey!” You glare at Utahime, Shoko is inhaling another puff of smoke, you cough just a bit.
“Hah – Sanji from One-”
“Don’t even!? I’m not that bad,” you huff at her, frowning now. “I swear I'm not trying to be pervy. God, what is in this weed?”
“Hmm,” Shoko tugs Utahime on her lap. “I wonder if he's scared you'll like … bite his dick.”
“You're so fucking mean,” you cough a little more, eyes watering as you scowl at the two of them.
“Look slutty, like really slutty,” Shoko walks up now, tilting your chin up and crooking her lips up at the corner. “Something that screams – fuck me.”
“He licked my panties and didn’t even…”
“Really slutty,” Utahime agrees, tapping her chin. “Ooh! I know, I have the perfect outfit in mind, that little black dress of yours.”
“But it’s too small for me now! It’s from like high school, and thanks to you two cooking all the time, my hips-”
“Exactly.”
“Exactly what? Oh…”
You trail off now, realizing what everyone knew – that Satoru loves your hips, he grabbed on to them every chance he got, even when he was just a little bit shy.
“Okay…”
They kiss again in front of you, laughing a bit, making you lovesick for your man – your nerdy man who you wish would kiss you in that way, tongues all dripping. It’s not even fair.
“All lovey dovey, fuck you both.”
They’re so hot and rude laughing at you – you decide to just disappear, you don’t need your hot ass best friends making out in front of you when you’re already in pain from the constant edging from Satoru. You are rushing to your room and trying on outfit after outfit, before finally deciding on the exact fucking one they brought up.
You would look as sexy as you could and hopefully get your boyfriend to not be able to resist you.
But also you’ll respect his decision, dammit! You can wait as long as he wants to, even if you were absolutely gonna put your tits and ass out there for him. Looking in the mirror and touching up your lipstick, swiping a finger across your lower lip to smudge it just a tad.
“Oh damn you look hot, Sanji,” Utahime says when you come out.
“I am not Sanji.”
“You are.”
“Fuck you both!”
*****
Satoru can’t keep his damn eyes off you.
Fuck you’re pretty tonight.
That damn little black dress clinging to your skin is fucking ruining Satoru’s mind, brain short circuiting as the two of you navigate the insanely packed frat house, one of his hands on the small of your back protectively. People are all bumping into everyone, stumbling around, absolutely no chance he lets someone hurt you by accident.
Moreso, Satoru Gojo can’t get his fucking hands off you, no, he can feel your warmth right through the thin layer of cotton material, fingers splaying across it. He reminds himself in his head over and over just what a horrible thing it would be to fucking take your first time at a frat party, even as he has to adjust his cock, turning from you to face the wall for a moment.
“Everything okay, Toru?” You ask softly, hand on his back, he laughs, a fake and terrible attempt at being normal, turning right back around to you.
“Me!? Yes, yes. Do you need a drink, babydoll?” He asks.
The music kicks on as he speaks, and all you can see are his plump lips forming words, ringing from how damn loud they’re blaring the worst dance music known to man. “What!!”
“A drink!!”
“Huh?”
“A DRINK-”
The music pauses for just a minute, switching to something else but leaving multiple people to stare at Nerdy Gojo shouting.
You blink a bit at his shouting, he swears he’ll kill Suguru and Nanami for having the audacity to fucking laugh at him and his pain. Them smoking weed earlier and trying to give him every tip known to man on how to bury said tip right against that surely cute little cervix.
As if Satoru hadn’t studied extensively.
“Yes, please,” you smile all pretty, letting him guide you through, he just about loses it from the sheer amount of eyes locked onto you, gripping you just a little too tight, feeling the curve of those breedable hips underneath his fingertips.
Imagine having them bent over, his hands fit so perfect-
No, he can make it another night, a dumb frat party was not the time or place for something so precious as your first time. Even if you smell that good, and you’re dancing all over him, giggling, your ass brushing right against where his cock has tented his dark jeans.
Your drink in one hand, the other in his as he pulls you against him, for a nerdy boy, Gojo can absolutely move his body. You feel so goddamn good against him, with your waist in his grip now, his lips pressed against your ear – he can inhale that sweet scent you just naturally fucking have.
That’s when he realizes he’s about to cum if your ass rubs up on his cock one more damn time with those heels making you tall enough, he could bend you over and slide it right in. God he bets you’re so wet too.
Satoru has to pull back, making you blink just a bit in confusion, he downs the rest of his drink, smiling apologetically.
“Bathroom, sweetheart.”
“Oh, um… okay, want me to-”
Satoru runs the fuck off.
Maybe you’re doing too much, shit… you were absolutely grinding all up on Satoru because you were craving him so bad. You needed to give him more time! If the roles were reversed, you know he would, even if he may want to as badly as you do. Going to pour yourself a shot, you throw it back and let your eyes shut, sighing just a bit as it burns your throat.
You need to ease up and let Satoru take his time, even if you have to press your thighs together to resist the needy urge of rubbing your cunt on anything right now.
Maybe you are fucking Sanji.
*****
Satoru’s leaned back on the door, unzipping his pants and seeing his reddened cockhead, and just how fucking swollen it is. He’s jerking his cock desperately, whimpering out as the door gets knocked on, banged on in fact by fucking Sukuna of all people.
“Gotta take a piss man, stop jerking it.”
“I’m not!? I’m pissing right now – w-wait,” Satoru is jerking it of course, but how dare Sukuna call him out on it. Dickhead fratboy that he is, he’s chuckling outside of the door, but none of it is getting rid of Satoru’s throbbing erection.
He’s just way too needy, too sensitive, he can see his reflection in the mirror – those flushed pink cheeks. Sukuna thankfully fucks off, but Satoru can't even cum with just his hand, not when he knows your little fist would feel so much better, when your mouth and pussy would grip him.
No, Satoru is left tortured.
*****
You are alone for some time, concerned if he was somehow drunk or sick when the leader of the frat – the slutty ass, pink haired jock named Sukuna comes up to you, sipping his cup and flickering his red eyes up and down your face.
“Hmm, Gojo left you all alone?”
“And?” You scoff, rolling your eyes at him now, he smirks just a bit, leaning close. “He’s busy. Okay?”
“Mmm… yeah,” he peeks over his shoulder now, then looks right back down at you. “So.”
“So, what?”
He grins all big. “Wanna play beer pong?”
“Beer pong?”
“Mhm,” he tugs at a little lock of your hair. “Bet I stomp your ass at it. Look like such a good girl.”
“Hah you think I've never been to a party!?”
“Never seen you before aside from with your nerdy lover boy,” he pours you a drink now and inclines his head.
“I've partied, just… usually me and Toru are busy.”
He snorts at that.
So busy your boyfriend is jerking his cock in the bathroom.
“I see, so busy, huh?”
“Yes but…” you curse now, shaking your head. Satoru has been gone fifteen minutes and won't answer a text, a game of beer pong wouldn't hurt. “Fine then.”
It doesn’t take long until there is an entire gathering of people to watch you absolutely annihilate Ryomen Sukuna in beer pong, to the point he is fucking furious. You're landing the pong ball in every cup, decimating the entire frat at a certain point, giggling as you study them, down to the last shot, against Sukuna again.
“Beginners luck or some shit,” he’s fucking furious – you swear you see his vein ticking underneath his jaw.
Satoru is still not here.
You’re worried but you’re also enjoying the cheers, especially when you land that last one, giggling as the frat brothers who were talking all that shit about the nerdy girlfriend of Satoru moments before are now staring in disbelief. With one final, perfect arc, the ball splashes into the last cup.
It really is beginner's luck.
But.
Also, fuck Sukuna.
"Damn, girl!" someone yells, and you take a little bow, rubbing it right in Sukuna’s face now, who is slamming down the rest of his beer.
Surely he drank enough to get annihilated – but somehow still standing just normal, big ass man has some insane tolerance because those eyes look completely aware.
"Guess I'm not such a good girl after all, huh?" you tease Sukuna, who's standing there looking down at you, setting the cup down and crushing it.
“Hmmm,” his red eyes dilate just a bit as he steps closer to you, suddenly making you feel just a bit nervous.
Satoru hates Sukuna.
It’s well known, since high school the two of them have been overcompetitive and absolutely insane against each other. He’d be fucking furious if he saw you anywhere near him at all. You peek and see him across the crowd then, getting a text from Shoko blinging on your phone.
He’s really mad.
He is.
You get another text now from Utahime, biting down on your lower lip.
Make him jealous and maybe you’ll get dicked down, Sanji.
“I’m not Sanji,” Sukuna raises a brow, lips twitching. “I’m not.”
“Sanji? Who the fuck is that?”
“One piece?”
“Nerd – hey, wait,” you’re turning and he grabs your wrist for just a moment. “Shit, I mean… you’re right, you’re not a good girl, huh?”
“I sure beat your ass,” you say, pausing when he reaches out, his fingers surprisingly gentle as they brush a stray piece of hair back from your face, rough knuckles brushing against your cheek for a second too long.
"You did, you're full of surprises, brat.”
“Brat? Whatever…”
You can feel Satoru’s eyes on you – you’d pull back, but part of you wonders if making him jealous would bring that freak out that spit cum in your mouth – maybe you are a brat. You sip your drink, remaining normal.
“I’m dating Satoru, you’re too close.”
“Would nerdy ass Satoru know what to do, how to handle your ass?” He taunts, your eyes narrow, his laugh echoing despite the music as your boyfriend starts shoving his way through. “Show you that digimon collection?”
“I’m very pleased, thank you.”
“You look like you need to get your attitude fucked right out of you,” your fingers itch to slap him now. “If he fucks up, you know where to find me.”
“No thank you, I- Toru!”
Satoru is between you and Sukuna, shoving him off and glaring right at him – perhaps the two tallest men at the party right face to face, Sukuna’s smirk making Satoru want to punch him.
“Why are you so close to my future wife?”
“Wife?” You blush and he glares at you.
“Yes, and baby momma – but you’re being a brat,” he whispers, Sukuna snorts at that.
“She is a brat.”
“You can’t call her that,” he shoves the big ass man and takes your hand now. “She has better shit to do than talk to you.”
“Aw, but we were having fun,” Satoru is dragging you away, you blink just a bit, almost scowling at Sukuna who blows you a kiss.
What a dick.
BUT.
Satoru is fuming, and he’s hot.
You’re so toxic!
“What’s wrong, Toru? I was just playing some beer pong,” you say all innocently, as he drags you past everyone, you’re struggling to keep up with his long strides. “Um… what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong!? Hah,” he’s laughing, psychotic and feral like you turned on a switch in his brain, when he finally starts getting some privacy. “Everything.”
“I don’t get it…”
“He was hitting on you,” Satoru yanks you away in the center of the party, you barely bite back your giggle at how excited you are to see him this way, looking ever so serious when he glares down at you.
Maybe you are evil, loving how mad he is, how jealous he is when he presses you against the hallway wall on the other side of the party, you can feel the music humming through the walls, but not as fast as your heart is racing looking up at your blue eyed boyfriend. Blue eyed angry boyfriend.
This isn't sweet Satoru at all, no – he's completely fucking unhinged, his chest rising and falling with his quickened breaths, cupping your face and jerking your chin to look up at him.
“You think he was?” You ask softly, making him raise a brow. “I thought he was just… being nice?”
You make him laugh without humor now, thumb brushing across your lip. “Are you being bratty, sweetheart? Teasing me, making me jealous?”
“What? No,” you straight up fucking lie to his face, batting your lashes all innocent and cute, but you can tell my that little smirk he doesn’t buy any of it for shit right now.
“No?”
“No, I was just talking, Toru. Isn't that fine?” You trail your hands up his chest, wrapping your fingers around to hook behind his neck, tugging him down to face you. “It’s fine for me to make friends, isn’t it?”
“Not when he's looking at these pretty tits,” he cups one, making you suck in a breath – your needy boyfriend is never this bold. “They're not his to look at.”
“Oh?” You lean forward now, tip toeing as he leans low, thumb brushing over a nipple, making it perk up for his touch. “Are they yours? Yours to look at?”
He’s losing it, his pulse hammering behind his ears, in his wrists, everywhere was hammering, his mouth practically salivating as he cups that tit right where anyone can see, big hand squishing it. You gasp out at the sensation, your lashes fluttering closed, little whines mingling against his lips.
“Yes, mine, every inch of you is mine,” Satoru shakes his head now with a soft laugh. “He thought he could dance with you. Kiss your lips? Lips that are mine.”
“All yours,” you open your eyes and giggle again, earning his scowl. “Sorry you're just so cute like this.”
Satoru blinks.
“Oh, I’m cute?”
You go to press a kiss when he snatches you up in one swoop, you gasp and wrap your arms around his neck now. Thighs trembling as he carries you to some room he finds, stumbling you in and shoving you right against the door.
“You think I'm cute,” he presses his cock against your slick heat, slutty little panties practically ruined for him, grinding his cock until you're gasping out. “Well I think that you're a brat.”
You gasp. “Me?”
Two people calling you that.
Well… maybe you are.
“You are bratty, with those pretty fucking lips,” he's kissing you filthy, tongues dancing, saliva dripping between you both, easing you down so that you slide against his body achingly slow. “Maybe I should shut your bratty mouth up.”
Oh fuck.
“Yes please?” He glares at your big fucking grin.
“On your knees then, sweetheart,” you so eagerly obey, he laughs softly, his heart hammering in his chest, a mix of being utterly furious, nervous about his first time, and dumbstruck by the sight of your heart eyes. “Look at you, bein’ such a good girl – but are you really that desperate to suck me?”
“Please yes,” you have no shame – all you want is Satoru’s cock deep and buried in the back of your throat. “If you want though! C-consent.”
“As if I haven’t wanted this for years,” he shakes his head and tilts your chin up, sighing. “I wanted to do it all perfect, to lick and kiss every inch, worship your body until you were writhing, so fucking needy for it.”
Satoru unclicks his belt, the metallic click hitting your ears. “Mnh… years?”
"Years," he repeats softly, unbuttoning his jeans entirely too slow for you, you go to move your hands and he halts them with a little smack, you bite down on your lip, aching. “Hands on your thighs, you’ll listen to me for once, since you’ve been driving me so fucking crazy.”
“Me, making you crazy, really,” you do as he says though – eagerly – palms on your thighs, he laughs a bit, the sound of his zipper lowering echoing in the room even with the reverberating walls.
“You know every time you drag that messy cunt on me it ruins me, right?” He draws out that word, sighing now. "Every time you wore those little skirts and bent over, every time you'd bite your lip while concentrating…”
Satoru drags a thumb down your lip now, achingly slow against the plumpness that moves underneath it, your teeth nip on his thumb teasingly, and then you let him push your mouth open.
“Open real wide, sweetheart,” you do just that, and he can’t help but whimper as he presses down on your tongue, as if he’s studying the recesses of your open, eager mouth. “Wider, can’t you? For me?”
You listen eagerly, opening wide and fucking obscene, your tongue out for any bit of him he wants to give you, core just aching.
“Fuck, I've imagined this exact moment."
Satoru won’t tell you just how long he has, either, he swallows – just a bit nervous now.
“Suck,” you suck his digits, slurping them and moaning around them, imagining his cock instead, loving how dominant he’s being. “Stop.”
You obey, making him raise a brow.
“You like me tellin’ you what to do? Is that why you got me so fucking mad, so jealous, to have you listen?”
“Yeah,” you whisper, as he shoves his jeans down, and the hard, thick length of his bugle strains against the thin fabric of his boxers. “Pokemon? You traitor!”
“I can’t wait to shut your mouth up tonight,” you giggle at that, Satoru sighs and frowns at them, brushing your hair back a bit. “They were a gift, okay?”
“I’ll buy you digimon ones.”
“God, you’re so perfect,” you’re still giggling, when he gently smacks your face – the lightest little touch that has you almost moaning. “Open up again, yeah? Be a good girl, baby.”
“Mmm, yes,” you nod your head, doing just as he says – the side of freaky Satoru you only saw hints of last week when he’d lavished your panties with his long tongue.
“You got me jealous on purpose, yeah? Wore that slutty outfit to fucking ruin me, wanted cock in your throat that bad? Got me fucking leaking so much… fuck…”
Your answer is to keep that mouth open, leaning forward as you lap your tongue along the damp spot where his pre cum has already soaked through, right over a traitorous yellow pikachu. You’ll make more fun of that later, right now he’s jerking his hips, hissing at the drag of your cute lil tongue on him.
“Fuck…” You’re teasing him just like he did you – licking and sucking his tip over the damp cotton of his boxers. “Act so sweet and you’re evil, shouldn’t feel that good through that… mmm…”
Satoru’s letting you suck around his fat cockhead, slurping every bit of his white cum from it, tongue lolling right along that slit over and over.
“Torturing me back?”
“Yep,” you lick your lips, making him sigh, shaking his head now.
“Go on then, take what’s all yours…" his voice is low, hoarse damn near as he for the very first time pulls his cock out, letting it spring free, slapping against his lower abdomen with a loud, wet smack. “Can you fit all of it?”
You knew he’d be big.
You didn’t know he’d be that big, with his jeans undone all slutty, his pokemon boxers shoved down – his cock is perfect, just the right amount of thick and entirely too fucking long, with a prominent pale blue vein running along the underside. You’re literally drooling as he strokes it right in front of you, the head flushed a deep, pretty pink as it leaks white.
You’re soaked, fucking ruined.
“I can.”
You cannot.
Maybe?
You will try!
“Go on then, sweetheart, lemme see how good you can take all of me,” he chuckles as you lean forward without hesitation, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the tip. “Teasin’ me more?”
You lap your tongue up, keeping your hands right where he asked you too, sliding underneath so you hit that frenum. His sharp inhale is met with his huge hand tugging in your hair so hard it hurts, pulling at the hairs on the nape of your neck.
“Fuck… greedy lil mouth,” he’s damn near slurring his words when you swirl your little tongue around the head, lapping up the salty taste of his cock underneath, brushing along that vein. He whimpers out when you wrap your lips around it and suck. “Oh my… f-fuck…”
Satoru loses it the first time you really suck his cock, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head, pushing you down further as his other hand rests on the doorway, beginning to move so that he’s choking you. You’re whining out, aching to touch your cunt so bad you slide your fingers down.
“So desperate,” he tuts his tongue, fucking your throat now, his cock slamming the back of it as tears spill. “B-baby, is this s’okay?”
You pull back as he does, with a wet, filthy pop, grinning. “I want it, all the way deep in my throat, Toru, I can take it.”
“You can take all of it in that tiny lil’ throat? When she’s this tight?” He whispers, your nod makes him glare now. “Have you done this?”
You blink a bit. “Yes?”
“Then I’ll fuck your throat so hard you’ll forget anything but me,” he takes you over now, slamming deep inside, you’re whimpering as one of his feet spread your thighs, and you’re soaking his black boot. “That’s it, rutting on my boot and taking cock like a little slut, hmm?”
“Mnhgh…” you’re done for, this is exactly what you needed, him railing your throat until you can’t think, until you’re gagging and tears are spilling.
“Look at me,” he orders softly, you do just that as he presses deep, sniffling as you try to take all of him, he hisses as he feels his tip stretching that tight throat, his Adam's apple bobbing. “You know I fucking love you? And respect you?”
You giggle around him and he glares.
“You have to know if I’m gonna say all this,” you pull back again, fingers all coated in your slick, gliding it along his sticky tip.
“I know you love me, Toru. I love you…” He sighs, touching your cheek. “I love you talking to me this way, you could be meaner.”
“Oh? Fuck my frustration on your throat?”
“Please?”
“You’re ruining me,” he mumbles, slamming right back inside, now that he knows you’re okay, he can lose control, see how much you can take, as you grind on that shoe, nails now pressing in the muscles of his thighs, jeans slipping down. “Want our first time to really be right against this door? Shove your slutty skirt up and ruin your cunt for fuckin’ anyone?”
God, Satoru’s sexy like this, fogged glasses and all.
Your answer is to take him all the way, your nose brushing against the white hair, the tufts of it tickling your nose, he’s stuttering now, unable to stop himself from fucking faster, harder, the wet sounds mixing with his whines. He doesn’t hold them back, either, every time he does he feels a fresh gush of wetness even over that leather, he can see it shimmering as he pulls back and slaps his cock on your mouth.
“Slutty girl, this all f’me, huh? Not that fucking loser downstairs?”
“All you.”
“Hold that tongue out,” you do just that, and Satoru slaps his tip on your tongue over and over, as you keep grinding on him. “Can’t believe you’re this much of a pretty little whore, god I thought you were a good girl?”
“Toru… please…”
“Please what?” You just keep rubbing. “Desperate, fuck… stand up.”
You can hardly do that when he helps you by tugging you up, spitting directly in your mouth, you swallow it greedily, earning his pathetic moan as he turns you, shoving you against that door. “Mnh!”
“Stop me before I fill all your fucking holes with cum,” he’s kissing down your neck, his glasses cool against your neck, whines escaping his lips as he shoves that slutty lil dress up the gentle curve of your hip. “All of them, I’ll have your cunt drippin’, your throat full, fuck that ass while I’m at it.”
“Mngh, please, please,” it’s all you can do but to arch.
“That needy?” He’s tugging your panties to the side, dragging his tip up and down over and over, moans escaping his lips when he bends down, turning your face to him. “First time in a frat house against a door? You’re so wet do I even need to finger you right now?”
“Already did,” you answered, he laughs, shaking his head and kissing you, rubbing even more, teasing your slit with the fat head of his cock until you’re weak, your thighs shaking. “Please, please….”
“Please what, fuck your cunt for the first time? That’s what you’ve been wanting, me to lose it, huh?”
“Yeah,” he scoffs, teasing even more, mouth messy and mean as he bumps your clit, until you squirt right down his length, dripping all down the carpet.
Sukuna’s carpet – it’s his room you faintly notice, as you see the little pictures on the walls.
You wonder if Satoru meant that.
“Squirting already, haven’t even fucked you yet,” he pulls back and bends down, slamming his cock so deep you scream out, head falling back as he tugs your hair, making your ass arch out as he fills you. “Oh my g-god… baby…”
“Toru,” he lets you adjust to his thickness, the very first time your cunt has ever been filled – and this wasn’t how he wanted to do it.
He wanted to stretch you out – one finger, two, then three – but you’re so soaked you suck him right in. Such a tight, perfect fit he can hardly take it, bending down to press sweet kisses on your bare shoulders, easing back and shoving in again, taking your hand and placing it on your tummy, pressing so you feel it all.
“Feel me here?” He asks softly, desperately – worried for a moment with how tight you are that he’s hurt you, but your answer is to look back at him with those slutty, parted lips and dilated eyes, nodding. “Who’s inside you?”
“You, Toru.” you answer, cunt spasming as she’s already close, his body overtaking you, wrapping and tugging, shoving even deeper.
“Who’s first?”
“You.”
“Who’s gonna make this cunt stretch out?”
“Y-you and… ah!”
“Mine, mine… fuck you’re all mine,” Satoru gave you that minute to adjust, a last mercy before your nerdy boyfriend fucking loses his mind. “Mine, this pretty body, this perfect pussy… you… mine…”
“Yours,” you whisper it over and over as Satoru fucks your messy cunt, even though it’s hard to take, you’re so full it feels perfect, letting his hand wrap your throat, fingers pressing on either side of your windpipe. “Ah!”
“Hah – such a perfect fit, made f’me,” he’s fucking you so deep you feel him everywhere, cock gliding in and out of your sticky, gummy walls, fucking you so goddamn messy it's dripping down between your thighs. “B-babyyy…”
You arch for more when he pulls out of your cunt with a filthy squelch and you whine from the loss. “Back in, please…”
He lifts and carries you to the bed, thighs shoved wide, feral now as he shoves back inside and sees himself moving inside you. Every slick glide smoothing your puffy cervix, until she is bruised and aching, that dress shoved higher, panties tugged firmly to the side. He uses both to move in you, laughing as you gasp out, as your thighs tremble.
“Aw, is it too much, sweetheart? Too deep?”
Feral Satoru is here, mixed with sweet Toru, but his cock is anything but sweet – the way it stretches you out, fucking ruins you, pummels your cunt so deep you’re about to cum all over his length, already sensitive.
“Mhm!”
“Full of me?”
“Nghhhh…”
You don't know how the fuck else to answer, it all is entirely too much, the way he can see his cock print, his insane laugh, those blue eyes glittering with the frames fallen off. So blue it hurts to look at, eyes almost threatening to close.
“Nuh-uh, eyes on me, that's it,” Satoru keeps pumping into your cunt, leaning up to shove your thighs against your tits, smushing them as he fucks you dumb.
He knows it too.
“Can't think?”
“mmm, nnnhhh,” your answer is pathetic and just a babble really, as your nerdy, once virgin boyfriend pummels your messy, needy cunt until she's stuffed so full it hurts. Your nails pressing into biceps, digging in as he stretches your puffy lips on it.
“Can’t even fucking talk – already?” Your eyes roll back in your skull as his cock ruins your pussy, so deep you do feel him all over.
“Gonna pump you so full, hah will you finish college without me breeding your cunt?” Satoru Gojo is batshit insane, as he leans over you, bending you so that you're folded in half under his heavy weight. “What would you do then, hmm? If I breed your slutty cunt? Make you mine.”
“Want it, mmm,” you’re utterly fucking shameless about it, feeling his bruising grip, his cock getting creamy at the base as his heavy balls slap.
“Jerked it in the bathroom, had me so hard,” you bite down on your lip, gasps escaping your throat, eyes locked. “You love that, huh? Driving me insane, slutty dress, pretty body… god…”
He presses your thighs down enough to tug your tits out, gripping them and exhaling, thumbs brushing your nipples until they’re peaks.
"Look at you," he pants, "taking my cock so well, pretty girl. You’re just such a good little slut for me, aren't you?"
You can only moan in response, your body trembling as he hits that spot inside you that makes your vision go white, your answer is to grip his hips with your thighs, letting him cup your face, pumping you so full that you can feel it all over. Warm and hot when he whines out so pathetically in your ringing ears, slutty little moans falling from your lips.
“Takin’ all of it, god…” He kisses you even as you shatter, your cunt spasming all around his veiny length, milking him for every drop. “So fucking greedy. So needy.”
He leans down and captures your lips, spurts of cum still pouring, you can feel him twitching, nails pressing into the strong muscles of his back. “Toru… l-love… toru y-you…”
“Cock drunk, sweetheart?” He teases, like the menace he really is – but he also lovingly caresses your cheek. “You took me like you were made for me.”
“I did?” You’re so damn drunk off him you’re slurring your words, pussy achingly empty, feeling his cum slipping out.
“You did a very good job. Such a good girl.”
“Yay!”
Satoru snorts at you, shaking his head and peppering kisses, leaned up on an arm, his shirt half open, revealing the hard planes of his chest. “You’re s’cute… I wanted to take it easy your first time.”
“I loved it,” you admit, yawning now, peeking around the room. “Mmm, can we go home though?”
“Of course we will,” he kisses down your body though, breath ghosting your thighs, spreading them to watch the filthy mess of his cum pour out, groaning. “You’re wasting it all, baby.”
“Hmm? Ah!” Satoru scoops some of that mess up against his fingertips, shoving it right back inside your quivering hole. You’re gripping him tight, thighs clamping down on his hand, as he smirks. “Toru you’re… crazy…”
“Mmm, you really have no idea what I have wanted to do,” he clicks his tongue, pushing that cum deep again, watching your every expression. “Gonna keep you so full of cum it’ll drip everywhere.”
Satoru does not just fuck you once, no – he makes sure to bend you over in the backseat of his car, fucking cum back inside. Once you're at his house he is pumping ropes of cum on your tits, laughing at how messy you get coated in white, before spreading it all over your body.
Satoru fingers and fucks all that cum inside until you're a trembling mess in his arms, passing out and snoring.
“So funny you started all this but then couldn't keep up, hmm?” He teases softly, cleaning you up, cock sore from how you gripped him, how much he came. But even the sight of milky drops escaping your hole had him damn near twitching back to life, groaning against your skin.
*****
“Good morning,” your nerdy boyfriend is littered in pretty kiss marks, indentions of your teeth all down his neck, a loopy smile on his face as he stands there shirtless, glasses firmly back on.
“Oh! Good morning…” you thought you'd be the one to ruin Satoru Gojo, ride his cock till he whimpered and cried from overstimulation.
You had no clue he'd fuck you so good you couldn't sit up right without his help, cupping your face and leaning down to kiss your lips, tilting your chin up and smirking. You're a mess.
A pretty mess.
Hair fucked up, covered in fingerprints and hickies, taking the coffee he brings and sipping it, sighing as it hits your tongue. “Mmm… good morning.”
“Don't you look pretty in my bed?” He muses, smirking on his features. “I wonder what Sukuna thought of his bed covered in your squirt.”
A blush heats up your cheeks. “I didn't squirt that much!?!?!”
“You really did,” you shove him playfully, giggling then. “My cum too though.”
“You did it on purpose, his room!”
“Me? Never.”
Satoru absolutely did.
That's what Sukuna gets for hitting on his girlfriend, dried up cum all on his blankets – as if he could handle you ❤️
heheh i hope ya'll liked horny reader for a change!!!
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