𝒜𝒾𝓈𝑒𝓈𝓉𝓊 @foreverlostinyoureyes - Tumblr Blog

Still mad?-Toji Fushiguro

Explicit sexual content (including oral sex, penetrative sex, rough/pounding sex, creampies, marking/hickeys), possessiveness and jealousy, emotional manipulation during arguments, power imbalance (age gap + size difference), dirty talk, mild choking/holding/grabbing during makeup sex, consensual but intense dynamics

Reader in college. Toji is 27

Summary: You and Toji get into a heated argument at his loft. You try to storm out, but he grabs you, apologizes, and coaxes you back with soft touches and kisses until you give in.

#jujustu kaisen #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji smut #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji fushigro x reader #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk

Still mad?-Toji Fushiguro

Reader in college. Toji is 27

Summary: You and Toji get into a heated argument at his loft. You try to storm out, but he grabs you, apologizes, and coaxes you back with soft touches and kisses until you give in.

#jujustu kaisen #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji smut #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #age different relationships #jjk smut #size difference #jjk fanfic #college au #popular #jujustu toji

One Shot-Nerdjo

DO NOT FEED AI OR COPY

If u want pt2 lmk enjoy~

You’d noticed Satoru Gojo weeks ago, the quiet guy who always sat in the back row of your Advanced Calculus lecture hall. He wasn’t the typical frat-boy chaos that orbited your world—no loud laughter echoing across the quad, no backward caps or sloppy confidence. Instead, he was… cleaned up. Baggy jeans that somehow looked intentional on his tall, lean frame, a crisp button-down shirt tucked in just enough to hint at the sharp lines of his shoulders, white hair a little messy but deliberately so, like he’d run his fingers through it after a long night of studying. Black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, and those piercing blue eyes stayed glued to his notebook most days, scribbling equations with a focus that made something in your stomach twist.

You were the girl everyone knew: president of Kappa Delta, the one with the effortless glow, curves that turned heads without trying, long hair that caught the light just right, and a smile that could disarm a room. Sorority events, campus parties, the whole spotlight thing—it was your normal. But you had a secret weakness, one you didn’t broadcast: submissive men. The kind who looked at you like you hung the stars, who got flustered under your gaze, who let you take the lead and loved it. And Gojo? He had that energy radiating off him like a neon sign only you could read—nervous, brilliant, untouched in all the ways that mattered.

So you made your move after class one Tuesday, sliding into the seat next to him with your best casual smile. “Hey, you’re Gojo, right? The guy who always gets every problem right on the board?” Your voice was honey-sweet, the kind that made people lean in. He blinked up at you, cheeks already dusting pink, fingers tightening around his pen.

“Uh—yeah. Satoru. Or just… Gojo’s fine.” His voice was softer than you expected, a little rough around the edges like he wasn’t used to talking much outside of theorems. But when you asked if he’d tutor you—“I’m drowning in this stuff, and you make it look easy”—he didn’t hesitate. Just nodded, ears turning red, and mumbled something about “no pressure, I’m free most evenings.”

The first few sessions were in the library, innocent enough. You’d sit across from him, legs crossed under the table so your knee brushed his accidentally-on-purpose. He was fun to talk to—way more than the jocks who tried to impress you with party stories. He’d explain integrals like they were stories, voice lighting up with quiet excitement, then catch himself and duck his head with a shy laugh. “Sorry, I ramble when I get into it.” You’d tease him gently, watching the way his shoulders relaxed a fraction each time, how his eyes flicked to your lips for half a second before darting away. He was nervous around you, sure—fidgeting with his glasses, stumbling over words when you complimented his explanations—but there was this spark. This pull.

By the third week, you’d had enough of public spaces. Your dorm room in the sorority house was perfect: small but upgraded, bigger than the standard doubles thanks to your status. String lights draped across the walls, a plush rug underfoot, your bed piled with throw pillows that smelled like vanilla and your signature perfume. You texted him on a quiet Friday night: Calc is kicking my ass again. My place? 8pm? I’ll order pizza as thanks. He replied almost instantly—Sure! I’ll bring my notes.—with a little smiley face that made you grin.

When he knocked, you opened the door in your favorite outfit: a cropped tank that hugged your figure just right and soft lounge shorts that showed off your legs. His eyes widened for a split second before he looked anywhere else, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag. “Hey. You, uh… look nice. Ready to study?”

You let him in, closing the door with a soft click that felt heavier than it should. The room was warm, music playing low from your speaker—something chill and indie he’d mentioned liking once. Pizza boxes waited on your desk, but you didn’t head there right away. Instead, you perched on the edge of your bed, patting the spot beside you. “Come sit. The desk chair’s murder on your back after a while.”

He hesitated, then sat, baggy jeans brushing your bare knee. You could feel the heat rolling off him, that nervous energy crackling like static. You started with the textbook open between you, but your questions were lazy, half-hearted. He walked you through a problem anyway, voice steady at first, then faltering when you leaned closer to “see better,” your shoulder pressing against his.

After twenty minutes of pretend-focus, you set the book aside. The slow burn had been building for weeks—the lingering looks, the way his breath hitched when you laughed at his dry jokes. You turned to him fully, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Can I ask you something personal, Gojo? Off the record.”

He swallowed hard, blue eyes meeting yours through those glasses for only a second before they dropped to his lap. His fingers twisted together, knuckles white. “Y-yeah. What’s up?” His voice was already shaky, like the question alone had short-circuited him.

“Have you ever been with someone?” Your voice was soft, curious, no judgment. Just interest. “Like… intimately.”

His face went crimson instantly, the flush spreading all the way to his ears. He shifted on the bed, hands clenching in his lap so tightly you could see the tension in his forearms. “I—I, um… n-not really,” he stammered, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I mean, there was this one time l-last year. A girl from my dorm gave me a, uh… a handjob after a party. It was… okay? B-but I didn’t like it much. Felt kinda mechanical, you know? Like she was just going through the motions and I—I didn’t know what to do with my hands or… or anything.” He let out a nervous laugh that cracked halfway, rubbing the back of his neck furiously. “God, why am I even telling you this? You’re gonna think I’m a total loser. I probably sound pathetic right now. I just… I don’t know. I’ve never really… done more than that. Sorry, I’m rambling. You can tell me to shut up.”

You smiled, slow and warm, reaching out to brush a stray lock of white hair from his forehead. He froze under your touch, breath catching audibly. “Not a loser. Honest. I like that about you.” Your fingers lingered, tracing down to his jaw. “What do you think about me, then? Be real.”

He stared at you, pupils blown wide behind the lenses, mouth opening and closing like he was searching for the right words and failing. His cheeks burned hotter, and he looked away again, voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re… you’re gorgeous. Like, u-unreal. The way you walk into class, everyone notices, but you’re also smart and funny and—f-fuck, I overthink this every single time we talk. I get so nervous I can barely string a sentence together sometimes, but in a good way? I think about you way more than I should. Like, all the time. During lectures, when I’m studying… it’s embarrassing how much. I keep wondering if you even see me like that or if I’m just the nerd who helps with calc. Sorry, that was probably too much. I—I didn’t mean to dump all that on you.”

That was all you needed.

You leaned in, slow enough for him to pull back if he wanted—but he didn’t. Your lips brushed his, soft at first, testing. He gasped into it, a tiny, broken whimper escaping as his eyes fluttered shut. The kiss deepened when you cupped his face, tongue teasing the seam of his mouth until he opened for you with another shy little sound—higher this time, almost needy. His hands hovered uncertainly before settling on your waist, fingers trembling like he couldn’t believe this was real.

𝙼𝚢 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝙳𝚘𝚕𝚕~𝚃𝚘𝚓𝚒 𝙵𝚞𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚘

Content warnings: Rough sex, size difference, tummy bulge, light choking (arm around neck), degradation + praise kink, mocking/teasing, creampie, overstimulation, explicit dirty talk, consensual but very intense power dynamic.

Note: if you have a fic you want me to write let me know!

DO NOT COPY OR FEED TO AI

The room was dim, just the soft glow of your bedside lamp cutting through the shadows of your bedroom. Clothes were scattered across the floor like a battlefield—your tiny shorts and tank top tossed aside, Toji’s black shirt and sweats kicked somewhere near the door. The air smelled like sweat and sex already, thick and heady. You were face-down on your own bed, that perfect little body arched just how he liked it: ass up high, back dipped low, cheek pressed into the pillow while your fingers gripped the sheets like they were the only thing keeping you from floating away.

#jujustu toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji smut #jujutsu toji #toji x you #size difference #jujustu kaisen #jjk fanfic #fushiguro toji #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji x y/n

ᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ?

Topic: Gojo accidentally finds an open box of condoms in Yuji’s dorm

NO PERMISSION TO COPY OR USE TO FEED AI

TW:

Detailed, extended, and highly descriptive penetrative sex scene (missionary position, raw/unprotected)

creampie (unprotected finishing inside)

Loud, explicit moaning and vocalization

Passionate dirty talk, begging, and praise

Marking / hickey (on stomach)

Heavy kissing, making out, and grinding that escalates to full sex

Timeskip yuji itadori(18)

Gojo had teleported into Yuji’s dorm with that usual casual flair—blindfold on, hands in his pockets, humming some off-key pop song like he owned the place (which, in his mind, he basically did). He’d meant to just leave the updated mission folder on the desk and bounce. But the box was right there on the nightstand, plain black packaging, half-open, a couple of foil wrappers peeking out like they’d been tossed aside in a hurry.

Gojo paused, head tilting, that infuriating grin spreading slow across his face. “Well, well, well… Operation Pillow Surprise just got upgraded to Operation Full Send, huh?” He didn’t touch anything. Just stood there, arms crossed, chuckling low and bright. “Kid’s growing up. Cute.”

When Yuji walked in five minutes later, Gojo was lounging on the bed like he owned it too, legs crossed, spinning one of the empty wrappers around his finger like a fidget toy.

Yuji froze in the doorway, face going bright red. “Gojo-sensei—! It’s not— I mean, it is, but—”

Gojo held up a hand, still grinning that easy, unbothered grin. “Relax, Yuji-kun. I’m not mad. I’m impressed, actually. You’re eighteen, you’re a vessel, and you’re somehow managing to have a love life without the entire school finding out. That takes skill. But here’s the thing—” His voice stayed light, almost playful, but the Six Eyes behind the blindfold sharpened just a fraction. “Rules exist for a reason. Higher-ups get wind of this and it’s over. Not just for you—for whoever’s on the other end of those wrappers, too. They’ll call it a distraction. A liability. A vessel getting distracted could mean Sukuna gets a window. So if you’re gonna keep doing… whatever this is, be smarter about it. Hide the evidence better. Or at least don’t leave the box out like a welcome mat. Capiche?”

Yuji had nodded so fast his neck might’ve cracked, mumbling something about being careful and how it wasn’t reckless and how he’d never let anything bad happen. Gojo had just ruffled his hair, laughed that bright laugh, and teleported out with a casual “Don’t get caught again, lover boy. I’ve got enough paperwork as it is.”

#jujustu kaisen #yuji itadori x y/n #yuji itadori smut #yuji itadori x you #yuji itadori x reader #jjk yuji #yuji itadori #yuji x reader #yuji smut #jjk itadori #jujutsu itadori #itadori yuuji #jujutsu gojo #jjk fanfic

𝘛𝘰𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺~

Summary: Yuji itadori can’t handle his pretty girlfriend’s face during sex.(reader wears eyeliner and is dark aesthetic vibes)

Not Proofread

Tw:Timeskip yuji, Sex, slight overstimulation, love yous, riding, etc

DO NOT COPY I DO NOT CONSENT

#jjk yuji #yuji itadori #yuji x reader #yuji smut #jujustu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk itadori #jujutsu itadori #yuji itadori x reader #itadori yuuji #yuji itadori x you #yuji itadori x y/n #yuji itadori smut

꧁༺ 𝓒𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓒𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻 ༻꧂

This idea came to because i love Gojos cockyness because he knows hes the strongest but not even just that especially because he knows hes good looking and built like a greek god.

Tw: cheating, Feelings of shame and guilt, Degradation, Possesive Talk, Creampie, Raw sex

DO NOT COPY OR REPUBLISH.

You’ve been with Jake for two years now. He’s the safe choice—steady job in marketing, kind eyes, the kind of guy who remembers anniversaries and brings you coffee exactly how you like it. You met him through mutual friends at a boring corporate happy hour in Austin, and things just… clicked. He’s reliable, affectionate in public, and he tells you he loves you every night before bed. The sex is fine. Predictable. He always wears a condom because you insisted on it from day one—“better safe than sorry,” you’d said with a shy smile—and you’ve never let him finish inside you. Not once. You pull him out every time, even when he begs, because something in you always held back. You told yourself it was about control, about keeping things clean. Deep down, you knew it was because you were waiting for something—someone—more.

That someone turned out to be Satoru Gojo.

~𝒩𝑒𝓇𝒹𝒿𝑜~

This idea actually came to me when i was scrolling on tiktok and saw a fan made picture of nerdjo and what better than to add polar opposites.

Tw: not much but sex is in here. Not proofread

You never expected your college life to look like this—head girl of Delta Sigma Phi, the most sought-after sorority on campus, the one with the sprawling Victorian house on Greek Row that threw legendary ragers and hosted charity galas that actually raised real money. There had been whispers about you in hallways since freshman orientation. Not because you chased the spotlight, but because it found you. Your face was the kind of symmetrical perfection that made photographers stop you on the quad for “just one shot.” High cheekbones, full lips that curved into a smile capable of disarming professors and frat boys alike, skin that glowed like you’d been airbrushed by the sun itself. And your body… God, your body turned heads without trying. Long legs that looked endless in the tailored pleated skirts you favored for chapter meetings, a waist that dipped in just right, full breasts and hips that filled out every sundress or formal gown like it had been custom-sewn for you. You weren’t just hot you were the kind of gorgeous that made people assume you were untouchable. Mean, even. But you weren’t. You were kind, sharp-witted, the girl who remembered every sister’s birthday and still crushed every exam.

That’s why no one could believe you were dating him.

Nerdjo he was six-foot-three of lean, pretty-boy perfection wrapped in the cleanest, most unintentionally seductive style on campus. He didn’t do the sloppy hoodie-and-sweatpants thing most guys his age defaulted to. No. Satoru wore crisp button-downs in soft pastels or whites, sleeves rolled to his elbows to show off forearms that were surprisingly defined from years of casual fencing club. Tailored chinos that hugged his long legs just enough to hint at the athletic build hidden beneath. Wire-rimmed glasses that slid down his nose when he got too focused on coding or reading, snowy-white hair always a little tousled like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times. He was the kind of nerd who looked like he’d stepped out of a J-drama pretty, almost delicate features, those ridiculous sky-blue eyes that widened behind his lenses whenever you walked into a room.

You’d met him in Advanced Quantum Mechanics, of all places. You’d sat in the front row because you actually cared about your GPA; he’d sat in the back because he finished the problem sets in ten minutes and then doodled equations that made the TA sweat. One late night in the library, you’d been struggling with the same wave-function collapse he’d already mastered. He’d slid into the chair across from you without asking, pushed his glasses up, and explained it in that soft, slightly raspy voice like he was afraid of scaring you off. You’d expected arrogance. You got shy kindness and the most beautiful laugh you’d ever heard low, warm, a little embarrassed. Three weeks later he asked you out with a bouquet of white lilies and a handwritten note full of physics puns that made you snort-laugh in the middle of the quad. You said yes before he could back out.

Now, six months in, the entire campus still whispered about it. How did the head girl—the literal face of Delta Sigma—end up with the quiet, bookish pretty-boy from the engineering building?

It came up again at the spring mixer his friends threw in their off-campus house. The place was crammed with laptops, half-built drones, and empty energy-drink cans. Suguru Geto Satoru’s best friend and fellow “nerd squad” member—leaned against the kitchen counter nursing a beer, dark hair tied back, eyes narrowed in amused disbelief as he looked between the two of you. Satoru had his arm slung loosely around your waist, thumb absently tracing the curve of your hip through the thin fabric of your silk slip dress. You were in full head-girl mode tonight: hair in loose waves down your back, body hugged by the emerald-green dress that made your skin look sun-kissed and your curves impossible to ignore.

“Seriously, dude,” Suguru drawled, loud enough for the circle of friends to hear. “How the hell did you pull her? Like… actual statistical anomaly. You’re the guy who still blushes when the barista says your name right. She’s… well her.” He gestured at you like you were a limited-edition collectible. “Head of the sorority that blackballed half the football team last year. The girl whose Instagram comments are just fire emojis and marriage proposals.”

Satoru’s ears went pink instantly. He ducked his head, white hair falling over his forehead, but his fingers tightened on your hip like he needed the anchor. “Shut up, Suguru,” he muttered, voice cracking just a little. “I didn’t ‘pull’ her. She chose me. I still don’t know why.”

You laughed softly, turning in his arms to face him fully. Your hand came up to cup his jaw, thumb brushing the sharp line of it. “Because you’re brilliant, Satoru. And kind. And you look at me like I’m the only equation you can’t solve.” You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “And because you’re stupidly pretty when you’re flustered.”

His breath hitched audibly. That was the thing about Satoru—he got flustered so easily by you. Still. Six months later and a single compliment, a single touch, could turn him into a blushing, stuttering mess. His friends watched, equal parts jealous and entertained, as he swallowed hard, blue eyes flicking down to your mouth before darting away like he’d been caught stealing.

Later that night, back in your sorority house—your private room on the top floor with the big bay window overlooking campus—he proved again how completely he worshipped the ground you walked on.

Satoru had always been careful with you at first. Reverent. Like touching you was a privilege he might lose if he moved too fast. The first time his hands had dared to slide under your shirt, he’d paused, fingers trembling against the warm skin of your stomach. “Is uh….is this okay?” he’d whispered, voice hoarse, glasses fogged slightly. “I don’t want you to think I’m just like using you or something. You’re… you’re everything. I’d wait forever if you wanted.”

It had taken weeks for him to believe you wanted his hands on you. That you craved the way his long fingers traced every inch of your body like he was memorizing a sacred text. Now he couldn’t stop. He loved touching you openly, shamelessly, whenever he could get away with it. In public it was innocent: palm pressed to the small of your back, fingertips brushing the underside of your breast when no one was looking, a possessive squeeze of your thigh under the library table. In private? He was obsessed.

Tonight he dropped to his knees the second the door clicked shut, forehead pressing to your stomach like he was praying. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathed against the silk of your dress. His hands slid up your calves, under the hem, pushing the fabric higher with agonizing slowness. “I still can’t believe you let me touch you. Let me have you.” His voice cracked on the last word. He looked up at you through those long white lashes, eyes already glassy with want. “Please… can I please please please…?”

You threaded your fingers through his hair—thick, soft, perfect—and tugged. Hard. Just the way he liked.

Satoru’s head jerked back with a broken moan, eyes fluttering. Those pretty blue irises rolled back for a second, lashes kissing his cheeks as pleasure slammed through him. His mouth fell open on a shaky exhale. “Fuck—yes—pull harder, please—”

You smiled, slow and wicked, and did exactly that. You used your grip to tilt his head exactly where you wanted it while you stepped out of the dress, letting it pool at your feet. Naked except for the lace panties you knew drove him insane. “You’ve been so good tonight,” you murmured, voice low and commanding. “Letting your friends tease you. Letting them see how completely you belong to me.” You guided his face between your thighs, and he went willingly, eagerly, nose brushing the damp fabric as he inhaled like a man starved. “Show me how much you worship this body, Sweet boy.”

He did. Oh, he did.

His hands roamed like they were made for you—palming the heavy curve of your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they pebbled under his touch. He kissed every inch: the dip of your waist, the soft underside of your breasts, the sensitive skin just above your panties. Every touch was reverent, every kiss followed by a whispered, “So perfect… so fucking perfect for me… I don’t deserve you.” His voice was wrecked already, breath hot against your skin.

When you finally pushed him back onto your bed—silk sheets cool against his back—he was already hard and straining against his chinos, a wet spot darkening the fabric. You straddled him, pinning his wrists above his head with one hand while the other yanked his shirt open, buttons flying. His chest was flushed pink, nipples tight, abs flexing with every ragged breath.

“Beg,” you said simply.

His eyes widened, pupils blown. “Please… please let me touch you more. I need it—need to feel you—fuck, angel, I’m so hard it hurts. I’ve been thinking about this since the mixer, about how everyone was staring at you and you still came home with me—” His voice broke when you rolled your hips, grinding down against his clothed cock. A high, desperate moan tore out of him. “Ah—shit—please, I’ll do anything. Worship you all night. Let me taste you, let me fuck you with my tongue until you come on my face—please—”

You rewarded him by sinking down onto his mouth. He groaned like he’d been granted heaven, tongue immediately licking broad stripes over your soaked folds, sucking your clit like it was the only thing keeping him alive. His hands—now free—gripped your ass, pulling you harder against his face while he whimpered and moaned into your pussy. The vibrations made your thighs shake.

You rode his face exactly how you wanted, fingers tangled tight in his hair, pulling until his eyes rolled back again and he let out a muffled, broken sob of pleasure. “That’s it,” you praised, voice husky. “Such a good boy for me. Look at you pretty little nerd, tongue buried in my pussy like you were born for it.”

He came untouched the first time just from your taste and your grip in his hair hips jerking helplessly, a wet mess soaking his chinos while he moaned your name like a prayer. You didn’t stop. You kept him there until you came hard on his tongue, thighs clamping around his head, riding out every pulse while he drank you down like he’d die without it.

Only then did you slide down his body, stripping him bare. His cock was flushed dark, leaking steadily, twitching under your gaze. You wrapped your hand around him—slow, teasing strokes—and he arched off the bed with a strangled cry.

“Please—inside you—need to feel you—please, I’ll be so good, I swear—”

You sank down onto him in one smooth motion, taking every inch until he was buried to the hilt. The stretch was perfect; he filled you so completely you both moaned. His hands flew to your hips, but he didn’t thrust he waited, trembling, eyes locked on yours like you were his entire universe.

You started moving. Hard. Dominant. Setting the rhythm that had his head thrown back, white hair fanned across your pillow, mouth open on constant, broken sounds—moans, whimpers, little sobs of overwhelming pleasure. Every time you clenched around him he cried out. You leaned down, breasts brushing his chest, and yanked his hair again, forcing his head back so you could bite the column of his throat.

His eyes rolled back instantly. “F-fuck—yes—harder—pull it harder, baby, please—makes me feel like I’m yours—only yours—”

“You are mine,” you whispered softly against his skin, rolling your hips in tight circles that made his cock hit that perfect spot inside you over and over. “Say it.”

“I’m yours—yours—fuck, Angel, I’m so fucking yours—worship you every day—love this body—love you—please let me come inside you—please—”

You rode him through both your orgasms, pulling his hair the whole time, watching those beautiful eyes roll and flutter until he was a shaking, moaning, worshipful mess beneath you. When you finally collapsed on his chest, his arms wrapped around you like you were the most precious thing in existence. His voice was hoarse, wrecked, but soft as he pressed kisses to your temple.

“I still don’t know how I got this lucky,” he whispered, fingers tracing lazy patterns along your spine, your waist, the curve of your ass—touching, always touching, like he couldn’t stop. “But I’m never letting you go. Never.”

You smiled against his neck, heart full, body buzzing. The head girl and her pretty-boy nerd. The rest of the world could keep wondering. You knew exactly how he’d pulled you—by being the only one who saw the real you and loved every perfect, gorgeous inch of it.

I also have more coming soon a Fushiguro, Megumi is coming out soon so i hope yall will enjoy that dont be afraid to message me or comment yall scripts or what you want to see!

#fushiguro megumi #gojo x reader #jujustu kaisen #fanfics #geto suguru #gojo headcanons #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk yuji #nanami kento #jujustu toji #jujustu sukuna #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #nerdjo #jujutsu gojo

𝑌𝑢𝑗𝑖 𝐼𝑡𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑖~

I obviously got this idea by yuji loving girls with big butts but i added a twist. Reader is 5’3

TW:Smut,sex,grinding,Aged up yuji, Not proofread

Do not be scared to ask me to make certain scripts. Dm me or reach out if you want one specifically made!

The late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of your shared apartment, casting a warm golden glow over everything as you moved around the living room and kitchen. You and Yuji Itadori had fallen into a comfortable rhythm together his intense jujutsu training, and the sweet, heated connection that made every day feel brighter. Yuji was the same energetic, optimistic guy he’d always been: quick to smile, fiercely loyal, a little dense about boundaries sometimes, and completely honest with his feelings, especially when it came to you.

He loved youdeeply, genuinely of course he does. He worshipped the way you laughed, the way your eyes lit up when you teased him, how strong and kind you were even on tough days. But your ass? That was his absolute obsession, the one thing that could make his brain fog over and his body react in an instant.

No matter what you were doing, Yuji’s hands found their way there. If you were cooking in the kitchen, standing at the counter chopping vegetables, he’d come up behind you with that bright, boyish grin, wrap his arms around your waist, and immediately cup both cheeks of your ass in his strong palms. He’d squeeze gently at first, then more firmly, fingers sinking into the soft, plush flesh as he pressed his chest to your back. “Mmm, you feel so good,” he’d murmur against your shoulder, giving a light knead before grinding his hips forward on purpose just enough to let you feel how quickly he was getting stiff against you. He did it to mess with you, loving the way you’d pause or squirm a little. Even if you tried to keep stirring the pot, he’d keep one hand there, squeezing and lifting, while the other reached around to help with whatever you were making, all while his hardness rubbed teasingly against your curves.

✧༺ 𝓢𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓪 𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓮 ༻✧

Yuta Okkostu (timeskip) DO NOT COPY OR REPUBLISH MY WORK!!

I got this idea when i was listening to an audio made by MythosVa on reddit and well he said the word meanie in such a submissve way. I decided to write about it but with Yuta because I personally think it fits so well.

The myth of Yuta Okkotsu’s innocence remained stubbornly intact at Tokyo Jujutsu High, even after two full years of him being openly paired with you

To everyone else he was still the same gentle, soft-spoken boy who blushed at the slightest praise, who apologized when he accidentally bumped shoulders in the hallway, who looked away shyly whenever Gojo made one of his crude jokes about “young love.” Maki still called him “kid” with fond exasperation. Nobara still teased that he probably didn’t even know what a hickey was. Panda still treated him like the baby of the group. No one—not even the sharpest eyes in the school—could picture quiet, polite Yuta Okkotsu doing anything more scandalous than holding hands.

That was what made it so delicious.

Because the moment the door to your pitch-black suite clicked shut behind them, that shy, flustered boy transformed into something entirely different—still shy, still easily flushed crimson from neck to ears, but utterly, helplessly devoted beneath you.

Tonight was no exception.

Yuta had barely stepped inside before you pushed him back against the bed with two fingers to his chest. He went willingly, eyes already wide and darkening, a faint pink stain creeping up his cheeks. He was hard before you even straddled his lap—his uniform pants doing nothing to hide the impressive length straining against the fabric. No one outside these walls would ever guess that sweet, stammering Yuta was above average in every way that counted: thick, long, and so sensitive that the lightest touch could make him whimper.

“Clothes off,” you ordered softly.

His hands shook as he obeyed, fingers fumbling with buttons while he kept stealing flustered glances at you. When he was finally bare, cock flushed dark and leaking against his stomach, he lay back against the pillows looking equal parts embarrassed and desperate.

You took her time undressing, letting him watch. His breathing grew ragged, chest rising and falling quickly. When you finally climbed over him and settled your weight on his hips, grinding slowly against his cock without letting him inside yet, Yuta’s head fell back with a broken sound.

“D-Dovie…” he breathed, voice already cracking. His hands hovered at her thighs, not daring to grip without permission.

You caught his wrists and pinned them above his head with one hand, leaning down until your lips brushed his ear. “Keep them there.”

He nodded frantically, cheeks burning hotter. “Y-yes… angel.”

You sank down onto him in one smooth motion—slow enough to savor every inch as he stretched you open. Yuta’s mouth fell open in a silent cry, eyes squeezing shut as his back arched off the mattress. He was so thick it bordered on overwhelming, but you took him to the hilt without pause, clenching around him deliberately.

“Ah—! Hah—” The sound that tore from his throat was high and needy, the kind of whimper that would have shocked anyone who still believed in his innocence.

You began to ride him with deliberate, torturous rolls of your hips—lifting almost all the way off before sinking back down, grinding your clit against his pelvis on every downstroke. Yuta’s wrists flexed uselessly above his head, fingers twitching as if dying to touch you. His head thrashed against the pillow, dark hair sticking to his damp forehead.

“You feel so good,” you murmured, voice low and teasing. “Look at you—already falling apart and I’ve barely started.”

He whined, hips jerking up involuntarily to meet you. “P-please… faster—Dovie, I—”

You stopped moving entirely, seated fully on his cock, clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that made his thighs tremble.

“No,” you said calmly. “You don’t get to come yet.”

Yuta’s eyes flew open, glassy and desperate. A fresh wave of pink flooded his face. “Mhm….meanie…” The word slipped out soft and plaintive, half-moan, half-protest. His cock twitched hard inside you at the denial.

You smiled, slow and wicked, and resumed her lazy rhythm—barely enough friction to keep him on edge, never enough to push him over. You rode him like you had all night, savoring the way his breath hitched every time you clenched deliberately around his length.

Every few minutes you would speed up just enough to make his moans turn ragged—only to slow again the moment his hips started chasing you with real urgency. Yuta’s head kept throwing back against the pillows, throat bared, lips parted on constant broken sounds.

“Meanie—!” he gasped when you edged him for the third time, voice cracking on the word. His wrists strained against her grip, but he never tried to break free. “You’re s-such a meanie—ahh—Dovie, please, I’m so close—feels too good—”

Tears were gathering at the corners of his eyes now, lashes wet. He looked utterly ruined—flushed, sweating, cock buried deep inside you while she controlled every roll of your hips with merciless precision. Still so shy even like this: every plea laced with embarrassment, every whimper muffled against his own shoulder when the pleasure spiked too sharply.

“Mean, am I?” You leaned forward, changing the angle so the head of his cock dragged perfectly against that spot inside your gummy walls while you ground down harder. “Then why are you getting even harder when I call you on it?”

Yuta let out a sob-like moan, head snapping back again as his spine bowed. “Because—hah—you’re so mean to me—angel—please let me—please—I’ll be good, I swear—”

You released his wrists only to brace both hands on his chest, riding him faster now but still refusing to give him the pace he needed. His hands flew to your hips instantly, not to guide but to hold on like she was the only solid thing in the world. Fingers dug in hard enough to bruise, but he never tried to force your rhythm. He just clutched at you, whimpering every time you lifted up and left him aching.

“Look at me,” you commanded.

He did—eyes hazy, pupils blown wide, face a mess of flush and tears. “Meanie… you’re being so mean—gonna die—can’t—can’t hold it—”

You slowed again, grinding in tight little circles that kept him right on the razor’s edge without letting him tip over. Yuta’s whole body shuddered violently beneath her. A fresh tear slipped down his temple.

“Meanie—!” The word came out louder this time, raw and desperate, his head thrown back so far the tendons in his neck stood out. “You’re such a meanie—ahh—, please—let me come inside you—been so good—please—”

You watched him with dark satisfaction—watching the boy everyone thought was pure and untouched fall completely apart under you. No one would ever believe that shy Yuta Okkotsu could sound like this: whining, begging, calling his girlfriend “meanie” in that broken, flustered voice while his cock throbbed helplessly inside her, leaking steadily, body trembling with the effort of holding back because she hadn’t given permission.

You leaned down, lips brushing his ear again. “Not yet. You can take a little more for me, can’t you? My sweet, sensitive boy.”

He nodded frantically, even as another whimper tore free. “Y-yes—anything—meanie—yours—ah—Dovie”

You rewarded him by riding him harder—still controlled, still denying the final push he needed. Every thrust pulled fresh, mortified little “meanie”s from his lips, each one more wrecked than the last. His praises mixed with the complaints in a dizzying stream: “So good—so tight—, you’re such meanie—angel, love you—please—!”

When you finally decided he’d earned it, you braced your hands on either side of his head and rode him with purpose—fast, deep, relentless. Yuta’s eyes rolled back, mouth open on a silent scream before the sound finally broke free: a long, keening moan that cracked halfway through.

“Come for me,” you ordered.

He did—instantly, violently—back arching clean off the bed as he came with a broken cry of “Dovie—!” His cock pulsed deep inside her, flooding her with heat while his whole body convulsed beneath her. Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks. His hands clutched at her back like he’d drown without her.

Even after the peak, he kept twitching, whimpering softly as aftershocks rolled through him. You slowed her movements to gentle rocks, milking every last drop while he panted and trembled.

When she finally stilled, still seated on his spent cock, Yuta looked up at her with glassy, adoring eyes—face burning crimson, lips swollen, hair a complete mess.

“𝓨𝓸𝓾’𝓻𝓮 𝓢𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓪 𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓮,” he whispered, voice hoarse and shy, the faintest pout on his lips even as he nuzzled into her hand when she cupped his cheek.

You smiled, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead. “And you love it.”

He nodded without hesitation, still flustered, still shy, pressing a soft kiss to her palm. “Yeah… I do. Love you.”

Outside the suite, the rest of the school would continue believing in their innocent, untouched Yuta—the boy too pure for anything beyond gentle hand-holding and blushing compliments.

Inside these walls, only you knew the truth: that the same shy, easily flustered boy could be reduced to a whining, tear-streaked mess beneath you, calling you “meanie” with his head thrown back and his cock buried deep, completely and irrevocably yours.

That was what made it perfect.

“𝑀𝓎 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓉𝓎 𝒷𝑜𝓎” 𝒴𝓊𝓉𝒶 𝒪𝓀𝓀𝑜𝓈𝓉𝓊

Not proofread.

Tw:Yuta Receiving,ass grabbing, overstimulation,making out,dacryphilia.

You always been a more dominant person to say the least. The way guys whine, whimper, and struggle is enough to make you feel warm and fuzzy as the heat builds up between your legs.

Well who knew you met someone who does exactly all three 𝙔𝙪𝙩𝙖 𝙊𝙠𝙠𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙪.

Yuta and you have been dating for awhile. When yall first met he was a sucidal,timid,nervous and a deeply tramatized person. That was until you met him.

When yall started dating everything was perfect among side trying to get on Rika’s good side though it was mostly Yuta telling her to leave you alone. Yuta was a sweet amazing boyfriend. If you were tired he would immediately cancel any plans he had that day whether it was with Panda or Inumaki just so he could stay with you. He would even bring you flowers often because in his words “A beautiful girl should always have flowers.”

This particular day it was a cold rainy day the weather was peaceful the type of weather were u want to stay cozy listening to the rain hit the window will small taps. Yuta was there wearing a slighty loose gray shirt with his sweat pants. You were wearing some black sweats with a black tank top boobs sitting perfectly. Yuta’s never been the type to try anything sexual he gets flusterd easily but thats what u liked. You loved seeing his face turn a soft pink anytime you touched or complimented him.

#yuta okkotsu #jujustu kaisen #jjk yuji #gojo x reader #yuta x reader #yuji smut #fushiguro megumi #nanami kento #smut #toji fushiguro #geto suguru #fanfics #written by me #jjk x reader

Satoru Gojo Headcanons

Tw: None

Satoru Gojo: Satoru doesn’t do anything halfway. If you mention you’re cold, he won't just give you his jacket; he’ll use Blue to warp you both to a beach in a different time zone where it’s currently summer. He loves using Infinity to tease you like hovering just an inch off the ground so you can’t quite reach his height, or letting you try to "punch" him just to watch your hand stop inches from his chest while he gives you that same cocky smirk he’s had the day he met you.

Satoru Gojo: Every date is an adventure, usually centered around his insane sweet tooth. You’ll find yourself being dragged across the city at 2:00 AM because he suddenly remembered a specific bakery that sells limited-edition strawberry cream puffs. He also doesn't just buy one; he buys the whole tray, makes you try every single one, and then gets offended if you don't agree that his favorite is the "objectively best" flavor.

Satoru Gojo: While he’s usually a total menace, his energy shifts the second he thinks you’re genuinely stressed or uncomfortable. He isn't the "warm and fuzzy" type of person he’s more of the "I will literally erase the problem from existence" type. If he senses you’re tired, he’ll drop the playful act and pull you into his lap, and let you hide against him while he keeps his blindfold on acting as a human shield against the rest of the world so you can finally get some peace.

Satoru Gojo: When hes bored satoru will 100% always try to mess with you. If you are cooking hes behind you 24/7 touching the curve of your hips or his hands go lower and possessively squeeze your ass. When you tell him to go away he will say “what can’t i appreciate my gorgeous wife.” Than proceed to smack your ass.

#jujustu kaisen #gojo x reader #nanami kento #jjk smut #gojo headcanons #first post #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk yuji #fushiguro megumi

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