cw: daddy kink (but NOT in an ageplay way!) , reader’s dad is an asshole
more like this
You sort of hate your dad.
Gojo definitely hates your dad.
You’d mentioned the hate offhandedly once, early into your relationship. half-asleep and sitting at the kitchen counter in one of Gojo’s oversized shirts as your feet dangle in the air. Gojo had handed you a glass full of iced coffee, but you didn’t grab it tightly enough and it shattered across the tiles, coffee and ice cubes spilling across the floor. “I’m sorry-“ you panicked immediately, searching for a cloth to mop up the mess, “I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I-“
“Hey, hey,” he’d frowned, “what’s wrong? It’s just a glass. I’ll buy, like, twelve more anyway.”
“Oh.” You’d flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry. It’s just a response, I guess. My, uh, my dad used to get really mad and yell if I spilt or broke anything. I kind of… don’t like him that much. Sorry if that’s kinda weird, I know I’m probably supposed to like my own dad.”
Gojo blinked slowly, blue eyes narrowed. "There's nothing wrong with you," he said reassuringly, drawing slow circles over your lower back. He looked down at you, still nervously staring at the coffee on the floor like you were ready to cry over it and prepare yourself to be yelled at- and he decided from that day onward that he really, really hates your dad too.
He does it subtly, though. Like the first time he met your dad over dinner at your shared apartment, Gojo’s plate piled high with the myriad of homecooked dishes you’d spent the full day making, including dessert. “This is amazing,” he smiled at you, before turning to your dad. “Don’t you think?”
Your dad nods. “It’s… good. Pass me the salt, please, sweetheart?” You snap up, reaching across to the other side of the table, and your arm crosses atop your dad’s plate in the process. “Don’t be rude,” he snaps lowly, “you know you don’t reach over people’s food. Didn’t I teach you better?”
You smile, tight-lipped and agitated. “Sorry, dad.”
Gojo prods at his salad extra harshly, dressing splashing onto the tomatoes, then casually manages to mention the price of everything in the apartment within the next five minutes as your dad shrinks back while his masculinity is damaged more and more. Gojo waves him off cheerily after an awkward dessert, then sticks his tongue out at the door after it swings shut. You snort, stacking plates next to the soapy sink. “Don’t be immature, Satoru.”
“He’s the immature one.” He rolls his eyes, helping you wash up. “Acting so self righteous,” he hums, kissing your forehead. “I’m glad you didn’t turn out like him, what can I say?”
Gojo treats you so gently it’s embarrassing sometimes, him cooing into your ear about how perfect you are and how you’re easily his favourite thing. Him brushing your hair softly into braids when you’re too tired to do it yourself, him ensuring you feel calm enough around him to shatter a plate onto the tiles and not immediately apologise.
He calms you down when you cry, wrapping you in his strong arms and rocking you back and forth as he lets you know there’s nothing wrong with you. He hates the fact somebody ever made you feel like that in the first place, that there’s something not quite right about you that needs to be fixed. Gojo takes you everywhere, to all the museums your dad wouldn’t and buys you the little trinkets your dad called a stupid waste of space.
Gojo adores watching you get excited around him, too.
“Oh my god, Toru,” you squeal excitedly, “look, look, it’s the exact one I wanted-“ you beam, proudly showing him the little animal keychain you just opened from a blind box. “Oh my gosh, she’s so cute,” you gush, pressing him to look at the little bunny’s fuzzy ears and her tiny dress. “I love her-“
“Yeah?” He smiles, taking your hand in his much larger one. “Tell me more, sweetheart.”
He revels secretly in knowing he makes you feel so safe you can be like this, that it isn’t embarrassing and your emotions won’t be ignored or dismissed with passive-aggressive eye rolls. “Well,” you grin, clipping the bunny onto your house keys where she rests alongside a plethora of other trinkets. “She’s sort of rare. Although, not the rarest, because there’s a secret option you could get too but that one is a bear, and honestly I think it’s not as cute as the bunny so-“
You go on like this for ages, babbling on and practically talking your boyfriend’s ear off as you walk around the local park with his hand in your left and a cute drink he paid for in your right. “Anyway,” you shrug, sipping your drink, “I think the cat is overrated. She’s cute, but why put her in dungarees? She’d look cuter with a parasol, I think. Oh,” you say suddenly, a little embarrassed, “I’m not- I'm not boring you, right?”
Gojo grins brightly and squeezes your hand tighter. “You could never bore me, pretty. Keep going.”
Gojo could sit there for days and listen to you talk about nothing and everything, feet up on his lap as you complain about the latest subplot in your new show. He genuinely listens, asks follow up questions, never once makes you feel awkward or embarrassed for caring about something so trivial.
You’re sat at the counter again over a year after the coffee incident, your shoulder slipping out of the worn neck of Gojo’s old Digimon shirt while your finger draws shapes on the smooth marble beside the fruitbowl.
“Toru, I was thinking, that new bakery opened up down the street yesterday and I know you love sweets-“
Gojo whirls around from the fridge, gasps loudly, and stares at you like you just personally offended his whole lineage. “Toru?”
You frown, confused. “Uh, yes? Isn’t that your name-“
“Nooo,” he grins, walking over to you, “use my other nickname.”
“Baby?” You say nervously. Is there an inside joke you’re forgetting?
“Nope.” He grins evilly, lips brushing your ear. “I liked the one you came up with last night, angel.”
You blush, scandalised, and shove futilely at his chest. Truly, it was an accident, just a little slip of the tongue in a moment of extreme horniness you wish you could snap right back up from his memory.
Your bare tits had been firmly pressed into the dishevelled sheets, marks covering the sensitive skin; Gojo was behind you, big hands carefully holding onto your hips and sliding up to squeeze your waist briefly as your back arched further.
“Does that feel good, baby?” He murmurs, hips delving deeply into your dipping cunt. “Come on, let me hear those cute little sounds I love.” He coos next to your ear.
Your answering response is a garbled moan, a squeaky whimper that draws itself embarrassingly from your lips even despite the pillow shoved into your face. “Yeah,” he whispers, “let me make you feel good, baby. You deserve it all, yeah? Just lie there and take it like the good girl you are, okay?”
Gojo’s voice is as sweet as sugar, coos dripping down into your ears and intoxicating your body so much you truly can’t think of anything else other than the way he’s fucking into you, sliding so deeply and so fully it makes your eyes roll back and your fingers weakly grip the sheets.
“Daddy-“ you choke.
You freeze, hot embarrassment flushing your face as you bury it into the pillows in an attempt to pretend that did not just happen and you did not just call your boyfriend ‘daddy’ like a degenerate pervert freak.
Gojo freezes too, thick cock halfway into your pulsing heat, hands paused on your hips. And then, the biggest grin he’s ever produced cracks glowingly across his face. “What was that, pretty?”
“Nothing.” You say into the pillow, voice muffled. “I didn’t s-say anything.”
“Oh noooo, I think you did, actually.” Your boyfriend gloats happily, his voice singsong, “say it again, or I’m not moving.”
“No!” You cry frustratedly as he starts to slowly slip his dick back out, “okay, fuck, fine.”
Your face burns as your lips open again, voice quiet. “...Daddy.”
“Daddy what?” You’re glad you can’t see his face, but you know exactly what sort of shit-eating grin is plastered along his beautiful face. “Satoru-“
“No, gorgeous, I want you to say it. Say you want me to fuck you.”
You’re almost sick with humiliation, but it stirs something else along with the embarrassment coiling in your tummy. “Please fuck me, daddy.” You say quietly, eyes screwed up like you can pretend you aren’t getting off on the words slipping from your mouth.
Gojo starts moving again, and you squeal as he magically manages to ram every one of your sweet spots in one stroke. “Fuck, baby,” he pants, “I didn’t know you were into that.”
Your moan cracks on a sob. “I didn’t know y-you were into that!”
“Oh, my shy girl,” Gojo croons, kissing your back. “I love anything that comes out of your mouth, you sound so hot saying that, so filthy and worked up for me.” He laughs breathlessly as you shudder and clench around him. “Aww, baby, are you gonna cum for daddy now?”
“Stop-“ you choke, “don’t say it like th-that-“
It’s no use, Gojo just keeps taunting you with it.
“Is daddy going hard enough for you, pretty?”
“So cute stretched out for daddy.”
“Are you gonna cum on daddy’s cock?”
That last one sends you over the edge, the taboo of it all making your head spin and your legs tremble as Gojo collapses right after you, spilling so much cum it manages to overflow right onto the sheets and into his mouth as he drops to his knees to worship you.
Your face burns as you sit at the counter, the memory harsh in your head. “Stop,” you whine, “I didn’t mean to say it, stop.”
“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.” Gojo chortles, kissing your temple. “Do it again later?”
You groan and drop your forehead onto the counter.
He’ll bring it up at the most inappropriate times, too, like when you’re on a date and he’ll casually whisper it into your ear until you’re flushing. “Toru, stop with that, we’re in an aquarium.” You protest, walking towards the rockpool exhibit. “I’m not calling you that here.”
The worst time he’s ever done it was when you were storming back to your car after an awkward dinner with your dad where he managed to passive aggressively comment on your outfit, tone of voice, and facial expression in the space of an hour. “I hate him.” You say angrily as Gojo puts his hands onto the steering wheel to drive off. “He’s such an egotistical, self-centred, immature, dickheaded, insensitive-“
“He is.” Gojo soothes, flicking the playlist in the car to one of your favourite songs and the ac up to cool you down as you continue to mindlessly rage about your dad as the city lights flash by the windows of the car.
“But it’s a good job you’ve got a better daddy here, righhhhhtttt?” He grins, patting your thigh. You gasp, scandalised, and swat at his toned arm. “Oh my god, please tell me you didn’t just say that-“
He grins again. “You just have issues that manifest themselves psychosexually, don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” You glare at him. “Oh, so now I have issues just because I like to call you daddy sometimes? Don’t act like you weren’t into me slapping you last week, why don’t we talk about your psychosexual issues, Satoru-“
Gojo laughs, hands in his expensive pockets, as you scold him the whole way to your living room. You’re still muttering silent curses when he tugs you into his arms and kisses your scalp. “I was joking about the issues,” he says, “I know you were pissed. And you should be, you have a right to be. I hate your dad too.”
You sigh and bury your face into his bicep. “I know you do.”
masterlist
a/n: okay mini hiatus for my holiday over! Have a lovely week <3
𐔌true form Sukuna letting his girlfriend try her new nail polish on him 𐦯
The bedside lamp flickers, the pale yellow glow washing over you as you shake a nail polish bottle, tapping it against your palm as you sit back against Sukuna. His broad chest is warm, two of his hands resting against your thighs. “Okay, let me see.” You hum, taking one of his large palms in your much smaller one. You gently brush a pale pink polish onto one of his nails, chewing on your lip when it comes out streaky.
“What a waste.” You mumble, rolling his digit back and forth to see how the light catches the blotchy polish.
Sukuna pears over your head, brows furrowed in confusion. “Looks fine to me.” He mutters, tone bored as he watches the way you add a second coat.
You tilt your head back to meet his eyes,“It’s not opaque enough.” You clarify. “I spent good money on this.” You hear Sukuna scoff, his chest rumbling against your back. “I paid good money on this.” He corrects.
You wave you hand, rolling your eyes dramatically before taking his hand once more. “Whatever, the nail polish was bought with someone’s money.”
You’re so frustrating to him in the smallest ways, he thinks. You feel his other arms tighten around you, swallowing you up in a wall of muscle. “Don’t be a brat, you’re lucky I’m even letting you do this.” But you can feel the mouth on stomach grin, lips pressing against the small of your back as you begin to paint his second nail. “Yeah yeah.” You huff, a small smile of your own pulling at your lips.
your voice is weak and strained when your husband flops on top of you, his massive form draping over you and knocking the breath right from your lungs.
“mmn.” he just hums, burying his face in your neck, completely disregarding the fact that it feels like you’re being smushed by a boulder.
and he’s not oblivious to it either, he knows just how big he is. he’s proud of it, in fact. and he knows how much you love it.
well… besides for when he’s crushing you.
his arms are wrapped tight around you, securing you from all angles, while his body completely covers yours. six foot five and 250 pounds of pure muscle trapping you on the bed.
“babe, i’m being serious, get off. you’re killing me here.” you mutter, breathing heavily between words.
“shh. lemme rest.” sukuna replies, not able to care less. and he has the audacity to shush you. really?
“had a shitty day.” he adds lowly.
you exhale softly, defeated, and bring one hand up to cradle the back of his head, stroking his hair. “okay. fine. a few more minutes.”
he shakes his head. “an hour.”
“do you want me to pass out?”
||a/n: sukuna version of this suguru drabble (well, kinda. they’re not actually that similar)
Satoru Gojo didn't think he'd cum in his pants on his first lap dance of his twenty-first birthday.
But there you were- grinding right on his cock to the music - in some slutty little outfit that hardly covered your tits, glittering underneath the red lights. Pretty nipples pressing up underneath that thin lacy material, just begging for his mouth.
He didn't know what to do with his hands, clenched at their sides, when faced with this milf's hips that look so breedable.
It's not like Satoru has even had sex yet - not for lack of opportunities, no - Satoru simply was a busy man, had his early master's degree, top of his class.
Hence why Sukuna and Suguru are laughing, watching him lose his shit with their favorite dancer.
You, their favorite dancer at this club. Oh, and you loved them not just because they tipped well, they were hot of course, but they were the kind of clients to ask about your day. You'd giggle as they did a line right off your neck, letting both of them have your cunt rock against their lap.
You were a single mom with bills to pay, and this was the only way you could stay all day - to dance at night while your mom let the baby sleep over. Was it what you wanted to do? Not forever
But damn you made good money.
Suguru and Sukuna frequently hit the VIP, and that's where everything got just a little filthy, but even then, they were all about you. Kissing on your neck, gripping your thighs, mentioning bringing their nerdy little friend last time and how much he'd just love you - apparently he was a bit of a milf lover.
You didn't expect Gojo to look like this though - nerdy, sure, but you could feel those muscles underneath his dress shirt, you could feel his long fingers pressing into your flesh. He’s blushing even underneath the red lights, you can see it on the bridge of his nose, his teeth sinking into his lower lip.
"Is this okay with you?" His friends are laughing at his questions, so you shoot them a glare.
"Sorry, mommy," they both tease, pouting as you roll your eyes, focusing back on Satoru, your hands pressing into his shoulders, long manicured nails pressing in just a bit.
"Focus on me," you tease, rolling your hips and pausing when you feel it. "Good boy, there you go."
He's huge, fuck.
Pulsing underneath his khaki slacks, making your cunt drip. Sure, some clients you got a little excited, but your damn cunt was drooling when he drags you down with his fingers digging into your waist, his tip nudging your twitchy clit underneath the glittering thong you're wearing.
"So pretty," he murmurs all cute, looking up at you, his lips almost brushing a little stretch mark on the side of your tit. "Cute."
Cute.
You pause a bit, heart hammering in your chest, suddenly so intimate you forget his friends and your fellow dancers are in here. You're blushing right with him when he whines out, jerking his hips up again.
"S-sorry, is that... okay to do?! I..." He's got fucked out blue eyes, dark with need, you manage a nod, feeling almost nervous when you've been dancing for two years now - putting yourself through college and paying it with a little baby?
Well it was expensive.
So this job meant a lot - and that also meant not being a blushing mess, no matter how hot the client. But you fear you're rubbing on him with no real rythym, chasing that high of cumming when that's against your own damn rules - his friends have girls on their laps, giggles and soft moans mixing with the loud bass.
But you can only hear Satoru Gojo's whimper.
A whimper that has your cunt clenching around air.
"Feel good?" You murmur in his ear, trying to act unaffected.
He nods, lips hesitantly kissing across your neck, plump lips tasting the glitter right off your skin, just that he can feel himself leak and stick to his digimon boxers, long fingers tightening their grip against your flesh.
"V-very I'm... ah, I'm..." you're soaking wet and so hot, it takes every bit of effort not to slide your panties aside and lose his virginity then and there. He's trembling when you pull back, your cheeks hot to the touch when he caresses them, stealing a little kiss, whining into your mouth. "Sorry..."
"No," you kiss him right back, and with one more movement of your hips - Satoru is busting, so much so it leaks through his boxers, the hot sticky mess clinging to your ruined panties, his moans barely muffled. "Mnh, s'okay..."
"Fuck I just... shit..." He's shutting his eyes and whining, knowing if Suguru and Sukuna knew they'd make fun of him, but you seem to be right with him, whining out, teeth catching your lower lip, gushing all down his lap.
The two of you pause, and you look down to see the mess you both made.
"Oh! Oh," you're both stammering, blushing little messes despite having each others' cum on your skin. "Let me um... I'll... come with me!"
You're dragging him so fast away, struggling to wipe him with napkins in the locker room, smearing the mess of fluids as you kneel.
"It's not coming out, ugh!" You keep wiping at it when you realize you're face level with his cock, and it's already tenting again. "Um, you can tie this around your waist!"
"Oh," you're snatching up your hoodie, tying it and trying to adjust it, when he cups your face, kissing you again, when he gathers the courage - taking a breath.
"Can we have a date?"
"A date...you want..."
"Please?" He pouts all cute, his glasses foggy from your kiss. "So I can give you back your hoodie."
You giggle now. "I have a kid though and..."
"Even better." You blink, then study his dilated blue eyes, his cute cheeks all bright pink. Fuck he's adorable.
"You are a milf hunter then, they were right!" he shakes his head.
"You'd be my first for... all of it. If you want!?" He is stammering now, all nervous, rubbing the back of his neck "We could just hang out, I don't need to..."
"Gojo..."
"Satoru, please. I just came in my pants, can you not tell I like you?"
"You're cute, Satoru..." you manage with a little laugh, tapping his lips. "I'll go on a date with you."
"Yes! I mean!? Okay," he tries to play it cool, even as his heart is racing, getting your number and texting you.
His friends might make fun of that pink hoodie on his waist, but he's the one who is getting a date with you <3
*****
hehe just something cute, I never make toru a virgin ahaha <3
you'd think a billionaire with infinite resources would just buy a damn candy factory when his sugar cravings hit. it should be that simple.
except, satoru is currently throwing a tantrum in his living room, aggressively tearing through his empty drawers like a deprived child.
"satoru, just use your black card," you sigh, barely glancing up from your phone. "order something. you look ridiculous."
"but that takes effort..." he lets out the biggest, most theatrical sigh ever in recorded history, rolling his shoulders with an annoyed click of his tongue whilst searching for whatever scraps are left.
and then, the furious rummaging suddenly comes to a halt. you can physically feel the moment his aquatic eyes pivot toward you upon realising: satoru is the strongest of his era (and apparently, the most charming as well). he doesn't need to order out when the sweetest dessert is sitting right on his couch.
before you can even brace yourself for impact, his muscly body traps you in, dropping his full mass onto you to pin your hips flush against the cushions. "get off me, you cocky idiot," you grumble, shoving uselessly at his shoulders. "i won't entertain whatever weird idea you have."
but he merely flashes that insufferable, shit-eating smirk, his fingers already sliding under your hem slyly. "c'monnn, don't be stingy. you wouldn't let your poor, hardworking satoru starve to death, would you?"
you roll your eyes and snap at him to cut it out, squirming and writhing beneath his deadweight to pry yourself free—but if there's one thing your friendship has taught you, it's that once satoru sets his mind to something, talking him out of it isn't an option.
fast forward twenty minutes, and any illusion of resistance has been thoroughly pulverized out of you.
now, you're sprawled bonelessly across his bed, your legs pinned wide over his broad shoulders while he buries his face disgustingly between your thighs. your cunt is a swollen mess, throbbing and pulsing around nothing as warm, sticky streams dribble down your thighs.
he’s already dragged two mind-melting orgasms out of you, leaving your stomach cramped and tight from the overload, but satoru hasn't given you a single second to catch your fucking breath. every time your body gives out to the ecstasy, his wet tongue just laps more sloppily at your sensitive clit, greedily drinking down the sweet nectar pulsing out of your core.
"s-satoru—" you manage to get your voice out, hands tangled helplessly in his messy locks, attempting to pull him off but he doesn't budge in the slightest. he just hums innocently against your sticky cunt, the vibration delivering a sharp jolt of bliss straight up to your soul. his pale, elegant fingers dig brutally into the meat of your inner thighs, keeping you locked in place as he slurps down your juices with a hunger that's nearly impossible to quench, wholly intent on flooding himself in your pleasure until his sweet tooth is finally satisfied.
ა ˙˖ in which → you have car sex with your biggest op, satoru gojo
frat!jo 𝓍 fem!reader
Everyone knows you hate fraternities, especially Theta Phi and it's president, Satoru Gojo
It was a given. The sky is blue, grass is green and according to you, fraternities are the root of all evil.
Which is why when you started fucking Gojo, it was under the condition that this was strictly between the two of you and you'd ruin his life if he told anyone about this.. arrangement.
Here's what not even your closest friends know about you: you had a very high libido and none of the men you were interested in had been capable of keeping up. you tried sleeping with athletes but even they didn't have the stamina to go for more than two rounds and while your vibrators always helped you, you had grown sexually frustrated and needed more.
You started snapping over the tiniest things, losing sleep and even daydreaming during lectures about getting fucked.
This.. arrangement started when you had been assigned to work on a project with Gojo, the arrogant white haired manchild you hated since the first day of uni. Now you were stuck with him for two months, working on a project he cared little about since he was too busy trying to charm his way into not just your pants, but your heart.
As if!
"Fuck, just like that, princesss. Come on, I know you can go faster." Gojo chuckles and grabs onto your hips, spreading his legs wider as he starts bouncing you on his cock so hard that the car is rocking back and forth, windows fogging up as he lifts his hips to pound into you.
You should be working on this project that was due in a few weeks, but instead you let Gojo drag you to the backseat of his car with the promise that this would be quick, something to clear your minds so you could focus on your work without any distractions.
Yet here you were four rounds later with cum dripping down your thighs from his previous loads that started to seep from the condom, body shaking as you neared your fourth orgasm.
"Screw you asshole, how about you get on top you lazy bast- oh!" Gojo lifts you off his cock and flips you onto your knees, awkwardly moving within the limited space until he’s behind you and lining his cock up with your entrance.
"You're so fucking mean to me, I love it." Gojo leans over your body to suck on your neck, one hand holding onto your hip while the other grips the back of the seat as he pushes into you.
"You d-deserve it." You push back against him as he pushes forward, meeting him halfway until he's balls deep inside of you, your cunt hungrily squeezing him for more, eyes rolling back when he starts to slowly move his hips.
You hadn't meant for this to go on for as long as it has. You had been frustrated after a shift at work, then you walked in on your roommate getting her back blown out, and when you went to meet Gojo for a quick study session at the library, it was closed and he smirked and told you his place was around the corner.
You reluctantly got into his car, arms folded across your chest as you stared out the window the entire way there, ignoring his flirtatious comments. It had frustrated you to no end, so who could really blame you when you started drooling after he offered to help you with your little issue?
It was supposed to be a one time thing, a quick solution to your "problem" until you could find someone more permanent, someone you didn't despise.
Only Gojo had matched your freak perfectly, going six rounds your first time and only taking a break once. You didn't want it to be him, did everything to convince yourself that he was actually terrible in bed but your vibrators had turned stale after that night, your mind constantly drifting to how hard Gojo made you cum on his dick and on his tongue.
He was just too good.
You arch your back so he can hit deeper, hands tightly gripping the leather head rest to steady yourself, skirt yanked above your waist, bra and shirt long discarded on the car floor.
You cry out when he hits a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars, head spinning from how deep he was fucking you.
Gojo groans and leans forward, grabbing your chin to turn your head toward his, pink lips slamming against yours. The kiss is careless, his tongue fighting yours, you angrily biting his lip because you hate yourself for letting him fuck you when you swore up and down you’d never get involved with a fratboy.
Gojo didn’t care, savoring the taste of his blood mixing with the spit you both traded.
When he pulls away, your brows furrow from the way he's staring at you, white hair falling into his face, lips slightly busted from your bite, a foreign feeling twirling in your belly. This was just sex, you wanted nothing more from him so why was he staring at you like he wanted to tell you something that would ruin your current agreement?
"Look at you.” He whispers too softly. “Letting me fuck you like a slut in my car. Anyone could walk by, you know? See how good I fuck you, how well you take me. You want that?"
When you try to turn your head, he tightens his grip on your jaw and smirks, slamming into you as he thrusts grow sloppy. The sound of your wet pussy squelching filling the car has him dizzy with need.
"You don't have to answer, your moans are telling me enough." He kisses you one more time before letting you go and pulling back.
You don't have a chance to dwell on what he was implying before he was gripping your hips and pounding into you at a pace that had you crying out as the coil in your belly tightens, your puffy walls gripping around Gojo's cock.
"M'gonna cum again!" You whined as his tip hit your cervix perfectly, fat tears escaping your eyes while your mouth dropped open in a silent cry.
You try to fuck him back, really you do but your legs are noodles at this point and the only thing keeping you up was Gojo's steady hands on your hips, euphoria coursing through your body and making your head dizzy with need.
“Come on, princess. Give me another one, yeah? You can do it, such a good girl f’me.”
You hate him so much, hate that he knows exactly what to say to push you over the edge, that he was way too in-tune with your body as if he had been created to please you.
Gojo pulls you up against his chest and you let your head fall on his shoulder. He wraps one arm around your waist and squeezes you flush against him, his other hand moving around your body until he’s rubbing circles on your clit and you’re lazily bucking back against him.
“Feels so good Toru, haah, don’t stop!”
The car reeked of sex, windows blurred from the breathy moans falling from yours and Gojo’s mouths as you both rock into each other. Anyone walking by would know what was happening inside. You thanked god it was late and the parking lot had been empty.
“Really? Thought you hated me, pretty girl. Who knew- fuck, who knew you had such loose morals?” He laughs in your ear, hand pushing on your back to arch it even further while he split you on his cock.
“F-fuck you, oh im close!”
Gojo laughs and places a kiss on the side of your head that lingers longer than it should before pushing you back down to get a better angle and his next slam sends you over the edge, your orgasm tearing through your soul as you squirt all over his seats and cry out his name.
This was better than porn.
Gojo doesn’t laugh this time, doesn’t make any snide comments because he can barely breathe with the way your cunt is pulsing around his cock, your juices dripping down his thighs and he thinks he’s going crazy because he’s never had pussy this good.
The fact that you hated him made this even better for some reason, motivated him to fuck you until you finally admitted that this was more than just casual sex. That he wasn’t delusional in thinking this could be something deeper.
He squeezes your hips tighter, pushing as deep as he can as he pumps his third load into the condom, eyes rolling back and a strangled groan escaping his lips as thick hot cum drips from the latex and into your warm pussy.
Gojo can feel it slipping it off, can feel your heat and gummy walls on his half free cock and it has him feral as he picks up his pace and fucks another load into you, his balls tightening and pulsing because you had never felt this good.
“Shit, princess. You’re so fucking wet, so good, s-so perfect.” He drops against your back, still holding you up as his hips stutter and slow, pushing the last of his orgasm out while you both catch your breath.
He stays there for a moment, his face tucked into the crook of your neck, thumbs rubbing circles on your hips as you both come down from your high. You can feel his cum leaking from you and down your thighs and you hate how it awakens something primal inside of you. And when the thought to push it back in had formed, you blamed it on your disheveled state.
In any other instance you would have pushed him off you already, huffing that it was only sex and would never happen again even though you both knew that was a lie.
Something about Gojo had you coming back for seconds and thirds. Every fuck session was somehow better than the last, making you forget that this was supposed to be a one time thing, something to hold you over until you found a more suitable partner.
Only you were starting to realize Gojo might be the best you ever had. It made you hate him more.
You gasp when he slowly pulls out, pussy overstimulated and swollen from the multiple rounds you went in the span of an hour. Both of you sitting on the cushion, one of your arms draped across the seat, Gojo’s throw over his eyes.
You sneak a look at him, heart thumping at how attractive he looked. His hair was all over the place, cheeks red from exhaustion, and his pants and boxers were still halfway down, cock still free and housing a half on condom. Your skin tingles at the sight of his abdomen and white pubes wet with your release.
He looked as fucked out as you felt.
Not one for awkward silence, you lift your hips to pull your panties back up and your skirt down, stretching your body to reach into the front seat for your shirt, ass in the air and you almost have it, your finger literally grazes the blue fabric before Gojo grabs you and pulls you down.
“Gojo! Oh my god, let go you freak.” You’re fuming, trying your best to wiggle out his grip but he just tightens his arms around your stomach, pulling you against him and lowering his head onto your back, littering it in soft kisses that burn through your skin.
"Go on a date with me. Please?"
This again. You told him multiple times before that this was simply sex, two college students helping each other out and nothing more. No feelings outside of helping the other get off. His stubbornness would only hurt him in the end.
"God no, I don't date frat boys."
"What if I left?"
You freeze against him, a lump forming in your chest. "Aren't you the president? You can't just leave."
What a cruel joke. Not that you wanted him anyways but even if you did, Gojo would never leave his fraternity. Certainly not for you. You two weren’t lovers, weren’t friends and we’re barely acquaintances given the fact that he was your number one op.
You remembered the time in sophomore year when he publicly called you an uptight bitch because you told him his party sucked. You lived different lives, it could never work. He would never change and you would never see him as more than a quick fuck and your unfortunate project buddy that you’d go back to ignoring once this was over.
"I can do whatever I want sweetheart, did you forget my last name?" He lifts his head and kisses your shoulder this time, goosebumps forming on your arms. Of course, he always tried to fix everything with money and status, which is another reason why you hated him.
You sit there quietly, lost in your thoughts.
You couldn’t seriously be with someone like Gojo, right? He was brash, had an ego out of this world and was a bratty nepo baby that flirted with anyone with a hole.
"So?" he asks, hopeful. HIs fingers gently dig into your belly to keep you from moving away, one hand coming up to grip your chin and turn your head back to him.
"So?" You repeat, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you lose yourself in his eyes.
For all of his.. lack of good qualities, he never failed in the facial department. Perhaps that was another reason you disliked him, because no matter how many insults you can throw his way, ugly wasn’t one of them.
Satoru Gojo was sculpted by the Gods themselves, which was unfortunate, because no one with a face like that should have a personality so catastrophically irritating. You can’t help but to let your eyes. traitorous things that they were, linger.
He notices because of course he does, and the smile that spreads across his face lacks any of his usual arrogance and for a second you imagined what life as his girlfriend could be like.
The thought came uninvited, images of him giving you sleepy morning kisses nad taking you on dates vivid enough to make your stomach twist.
Absolutely not.
Satoru Gojo was many things: powerful, insufferable, unbearably handsome, but he was not boyfriend material.
"Will you go on a date with me if I leave the frat?"
"No."
You answer too fast and Gojo is once again left heartbroken as you pull away to finish dressing yourself, refusing to spare him another look. He could understand why you hated him, but if you would just give him a chance to prove he could be different, he knew he wouldn’t disappoint you.
He would just have to keep trying, keep working for your favor because he would make you his if it was the last thing he did. He was competitive to his core and that wouldn’t waver just because he had finally met his match.
On the contrary, it only motivated him more. He saw the way you looked at him, how you were starting to let him touch you longer than you would have when this first started.
He was slowly breaking your walls down and it was only a matter of time before he made you his.
❦ lisa's note: this will be a series! I'll post the masterlist for it soon but lemme know if you wanna be tagged! 😋
ა ˙˖ in which → you have car sex with your biggest op, satoru gojo
frat!jo 𝓍 fem!reader
Everyone knows you hate fraternities, especially Theta Phi and it's president, Satoru Gojo
It was a given. The sky is blue, grass is green and according to you, fraternities are the root of all evil.
Which is why when you started fucking Gojo, it was under the condition that this was strictly between the two of you and you'd ruin his life if he told anyone about this.. arrangement.
Here's what not even your closest friends know about you: you had a very high libido and none of the men you were interested in had been capable of keeping up. you tried sleeping with athletes but even they didn't have the stamina to go for more than two rounds and while your vibrators always helped you, you had grown sexually frustrated and needed more.
You started snapping over the tiniest things, losing sleep and even daydreaming during lectures about getting fucked.
This.. arrangement started when you had been assigned to work on a project with Gojo, the arrogant white haired manchild you hated since the first day of uni. Now you were stuck with him for two months, working on a project he cared little about since he was too busy trying to charm his way into not just your pants, but your heart.
As if!
"Fuck, just like that, princesss. Come on, I know you can go faster." Gojo chuckles and grabs onto your hips, spreading his legs wider as he starts bouncing you on his cock so hard that the car is rocking back and forth, windows fogging up as he lifts his hips to pound into you.
You should be working on this project that was due in a few weeks, but instead you let Gojo drag you to the backseat of his car with the promise that this would be quick, something to clear your minds so you could focus on your work without any distractions.
Yet here you were four rounds later with cum dripping down your thighs from his previous loads that started to seep from the condom, body shaking as you neared your fourth orgasm.
"Screw you asshole, how about you get on top you lazy bast- oh!" Gojo lifts you off his cock and flips you onto your knees, awkwardly moving within the limited space until he’s behind you and lining his cock up with your entrance.
"You're so fucking mean to me, I love it." Gojo leans over your body to suck on your neck, one hand holding onto your hip while the other grips the back of the seat as he pushes into you.
"You d-deserve it." You push back against him as he pushes forward, meeting him halfway until he's balls deep inside of you, your cunt hungrily squeezing him for more, eyes rolling back when he starts to slowly move his hips.
You hadn't meant for this to go on for as long as it has. You had been frustrated after a shift at work, then you walked in on your roommate getting her back blown out, and when you went to meet Gojo for a quick study session at the library, it was closed and he smirked and told you his place was around the corner.
You reluctantly got into his car, arms folded across your chest as you stared out the window the entire way there, ignoring his flirtatious comments. It had frustrated you to no end, so who could really blame you when you started drooling after he offered to help you with your little issue?
It was supposed to be a one time thing, a quick solution to your "problem" until you could find someone more permanent, someone you didn't despise.
Only Gojo had matched your freak perfectly, going six rounds your first time and only taking a break once. You didn't want it to be him, did everything to convince yourself that he was actually terrible in bed but your vibrators had turned stale after that night, your mind constantly drifting to how hard Gojo made you cum on his dick and on his tongue.
He was just too good.
You arch your back so he can hit deeper, hands tightly gripping the leather head rest to steady yourself, skirt yanked above your waist, bra and shirt long discarded on the car floor.
You cry out when he hits a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars, head spinning from how deep he was fucking you.
Gojo groans and leans forward, grabbing your chin to turn your head toward his, pink lips slamming against yours. The kiss is careless, his tongue fighting yours, you angrily biting his lip because you hate yourself for letting him fuck you when you swore up and down you’d never get involved with a fratboy.
Gojo didn’t care, savoring the taste of his blood mixing with the spit you both traded.
When he pulls away, your brows furrow from the way he's staring at you, white hair falling into his face, lips slightly busted from your bite, a foreign feeling twirling in your belly. This was just sex, you wanted nothing more from him so why was he staring at you like he wanted to tell you something that would ruin your current agreement?
"Look at you.” He whispers too softly. “Letting me fuck you like a slut in my car. Anyone could walk by, you know? See how good I fuck you, how well you take me. You want that?"
When you try to turn your head, he tightens his grip on your jaw and smirks, slamming into you as he thrusts grow sloppy. The sound of your wet pussy squelching filling the car has him dizzy with need.
"You don't have to answer, your moans are telling me enough." He kisses you one more time before letting you go and pulling back.
You don't have a chance to dwell on what he was implying before he was gripping your hips and pounding into you at a pace that had you crying out as the coil in your belly tightens, your puffy walls gripping around Gojo's cock.
"M'gonna cum again!" You whined as his tip hit your cervix perfectly, fat tears escaping your eyes while your mouth dropped open in a silent cry.
You try to fuck him back, really you do but your legs are noodles at this point and the only thing keeping you up was Gojo's steady hands on your hips, euphoria coursing through your body and making your head dizzy with need.
“Come on, princess. Give me another one, yeah? You can do it, such a good girl f’me.”
You hate him so much, hate that he knows exactly what to say to push you over the edge, that he was way too in-tune with your body as if he had been created to please you.
Gojo pulls you up against his chest and you let your head fall on his shoulder. He wraps one arm around your waist and squeezes you flush against him, his other hand moving around your body until he’s rubbing circles on your clit and you’re lazily bucking back against him.
“Feels so good Toru, haah, don’t stop!”
The car reeked of sex, windows blurred from the breathy moans falling from yours and Gojo’s mouths as you both rock into each other. Anyone walking by would know what was happening inside. You thanked god it was late and the parking lot had been empty.
“Really? Thought you hated me, pretty girl. Who knew- fuck, who knew you had such loose morals?” He laughs in your ear, hand pushing on your back to arch it even further while he split you on his cock.
“F-fuck you, oh im close!”
Gojo laughs and places a kiss on the side of your head that lingers longer than it should before pushing you back down to get a better angle and his next slam sends you over the edge, your orgasm tearing through your soul as you squirt all over his seats and cry out his name.
This was better than porn.
Gojo doesn’t laugh this time, doesn’t make any snide comments because he can barely breathe with the way your cunt is pulsing around his cock, your juices dripping down his thighs and he thinks he’s going crazy because he’s never had pussy this good.
The fact that you hated him made this even better for some reason, motivated him to fuck you until you finally admitted that this was more than just casual sex. That he wasn’t delusional in thinking this could be something deeper.
He squeezes your hips tighter, pushing as deep as he can as he pumps his third load into the condom, eyes rolling back and a strangled groan escaping his lips as thick hot cum drips from the latex and into your warm pussy.
Gojo can feel it slipping it off, can feel your heat and gummy walls on his half free cock and it has him feral as he picks up his pace and fucks another load into you, his balls tightening and pulsing because you had never felt this good.
“Shit, princess. You’re so fucking wet, so good, s-so perfect.” He drops against your back, still holding you up as his hips stutter and slow, pushing the last of his orgasm out while you both catch your breath.
He stays there for a moment, his face tucked into the crook of your neck, thumbs rubbing circles on your hips as you both come down from your high. You can feel his cum leaking from you and down your thighs and you hate how it awakens something primal inside of you. And when the thought to push it back in had formed, you blamed it on your disheveled state.
In any other instance you would have pushed him off you already, huffing that it was only sex and would never happen again even though you both knew that was a lie.
Something about Gojo had you coming back for seconds and thirds. Every fuck session was somehow better than the last, making you forget that this was supposed to be a one time thing, something to hold you over until you found a more suitable partner.
Only you were starting to realize Gojo might be the best you ever had. It made you hate him more.
You gasp when he slowly pulls out, pussy overstimulated and swollen from the multiple rounds you went in the span of an hour. Both of you sitting on the cushion, one of your arms draped across the seat, Gojo’s throw over his eyes.
You sneak a look at him, heart thumping at how attractive he looked. His hair was all over the place, cheeks red from exhaustion, and his pants and boxers were still halfway down, cock still free and housing a half on condom. Your skin tingles at the sight of his abdomen and white pubes wet with your release.
He looked as fucked out as you felt.
Not one for awkward silence, you lift your hips to pull your panties back up and your skirt down, stretching your body to reach into the front seat for your shirt, ass in the air and you almost have it, your finger literally grazes the blue fabric before Gojo grabs you and pulls you down.
“Gojo! Oh my god, let go you freak.” You’re fuming, trying your best to wiggle out his grip but he just tightens his arms around your stomach, pulling you against him and lowering his head onto your back, littering it in soft kisses that burn through your skin.
"Go on a date with me. Please?"
This again. You told him multiple times before that this was simply sex, two college students helping each other out and nothing more. No feelings outside of helping the other get off. His stubbornness would only hurt him in the end.
"God no, I don't date frat boys."
"What if I left?"
You freeze against him, a lump forming in your chest. "Aren't you the president? You can't just leave."
What a cruel joke. Not that you wanted him anyways but even if you did, Gojo would never leave his fraternity. Certainly not for you. You two weren’t lovers, weren’t friends and we’re barely acquaintances given the fact that he was your number one op.
You remembered the time in sophomore year when he publicly called you an uptight bitch because you told him his party sucked. You lived different lives, it could never work. He would never change and you would never see him as more than a quick fuck and your unfortunate project buddy that you’d go back to ignoring once this was over.
"I can do whatever I want sweetheart, did you forget my last name?" He lifts his head and kisses your shoulder this time, goosebumps forming on your arms. Of course, he always tried to fix everything with money and status, which is another reason why you hated him.
You sit there quietly, lost in your thoughts.
You couldn’t seriously be with someone like Gojo, right? He was brash, had an ego out of this world and was a bratty nepo baby that flirted with anyone with a hole.
"So?" he asks, hopeful. HIs fingers gently dig into your belly to keep you from moving away, one hand coming up to grip your chin and turn your head back to him.
"So?" You repeat, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you lose yourself in his eyes.
For all of his.. lack of good qualities, he never failed in the facial department. Perhaps that was another reason you disliked him, because no matter how many insults you can throw his way, ugly wasn’t one of them.
Satoru Gojo was sculpted by the Gods themselves, which was unfortunate, because no one with a face like that should have a personality so catastrophically irritating. You can’t help but to let your eyes. traitorous things that they were, linger.
He notices because of course he does, and the smile that spreads across his face lacks any of his usual arrogance and for a second you imagined what life as his girlfriend could be like.
The thought came uninvited, images of him giving you sleepy morning kisses nad taking you on dates vivid enough to make your stomach twist.
Absolutely not.
Satoru Gojo was many things: powerful, insufferable, unbearably handsome, but he was not boyfriend material.
"Will you go on a date with me if I leave the frat?"
"No."
You answer too fast and Gojo is once again left heartbroken as you pull away to finish dressing yourself, refusing to spare him another look. He could understand why you hated him, but if you would just give him a chance to prove he could be different, he knew he wouldn’t disappoint you.
He would just have to keep trying, keep working for your favor because he would make you his if it was the last thing he did. He was competitive to his core and that wouldn’t waver just because he had finally met his match.
On the contrary, it only motivated him more. He saw the way you looked at him, how you were starting to let him touch you longer than you would have when this first started.
He was slowly breaking your walls down and it was only a matter of time before he made you his.
❦ lisa's note: this will be a series! I'll post the masterlist for it soon but lemme know if you wanna be tagged! 😋
the happiest you've ever seen satoru gojo is when you told him he could fuck you without a condom for the first time.
it's not like he minded using them, in fact he still thinks it's responsible to use protection, even if you are on the pill. he just thinks he's lucky he gets to touch you at all.
but he has always wondered what your raw pussy would feel like, how your velvet heat would contract around his cock, no barrier separating the two of you.
you dragged him to your dorm after class and got right to the point, shoving your tongue down his throat and straddling him. not before long, his jeans were shoved down to his ankles and he was hovering over you, obviously very nervous.
"toru– just put it in" you groaned in annoyance, trying not to just fuck into him yourself.
"m'sorry..." he whined, pushing his glasses up with one finger and glancing down at where his dick sat against your glistening folds, throbbing and twitching with anticipation. just the sight pulled a little whimper from him. he's always cum a bit quicker than some of the other guy's you've dated, but he just can't help it! you're the first girl he's ever been with, probably the prettiest he's ever talked to.
"okay..." he took a breath, trying to calm himself down before reaching down and taking his cock in his hand, lining the leaking tip up with your entrance.
when he finally does push in, he's panting, grip on your hips so tight you know you'll have little finger tip shaped bruises there afterwards. "oh– fuuuuck–" he moans whorishly once he buries himself to the hilt, clenching his eyes shut and breathing so heavily you think he might pass out. your pussy is just so much more warm like this, he can feel every ridge of your gummy walls fluttering around him, begging him to move.
"m-move some" you breathe out, not used to how different his cock feels like this. your hands are braced on his broad shoulders, fingernails digging into his skin when he doesn't move a muscle.
his eyes are still closed, his glasses nearly falling off of his face. you can hear him whining faintly, body so stiff it's making you uncomfortable for him.
you decide to take matters into your own hands, bucking your hips up so his dick slides further into you. apparently, that was a bad idea when his reaction was an immediate iron grip on your hips, and loud, pathetic moan. "fuck!" he buries his flushed face in your neck, jaw slack and breath fanning against your skin.
he came. he came having not been inside you for even a minute. you can't help but huff a suprised sound, that soon turns into a full body laugh.
he lifts his head from the crook of your neck at that, eyes wide and glassy like he was going to cry. "don't laugh! s'not funny..." he's mortified, he came like a virgin just because of the lack of a little piece of plastic. "m'sorry baby..." he seems genuinely apologetic, he hates that he couldn't make you feel good.
you shush him, reaching up to card your fingers through his silky white hair, scratching his scalp lightly and watching as he leans into the contact. he's convinced you're mad at him, that you think he's pathetic. "i don't mind, toru" you coo, which earns a relived sigh from him in return. your voice is soothing when you speak, "let's go again, yeah?"
⌗ 𝓼atoru gojo coos you over the edge ! (˶˃𐃷˂˶) based off this (not a p!link), unprotected p in v, whipped!gojo, praise, pet names (baby/babygirl, sweetheart, angel)
the sounds in the once quiet room are obscene— breathy moans, loud squelching with each precise thrust of gojo's hips, and the bed frame thunking against the wall.
he's so deep inside you, you feel him in your throat. all you can do is claw at his broad back desperately, leaving angry red marks in your wake. "toru– ohfuck--!" you're struggling to catch your breath, "s'too much!" his pace is unrelenting, so the least he can do is talk you through it.
"m'sorry, babygirl, i know" his breath fans over your skin as he coos at you so sweetly, a direct opposite to the way he's fucking into you. "s'big, huh?" he's practically cradling you, holding you so close to his chest that you feel his heart beating a frantic rhythm against yours.
he pulls your face from hiding in the crook of his neck all to press gentle, reverent kisses over your flushed skin. "my precious girl," he praises, "doin' so good for me, my perfect baby" he moans softly when he feels your pussy flutter around him at his sweet words.
"there you go, you like that?" his voice isn't teasing in the slightest, all genuine loving words, all reserved for you.
that familiar heat is growing low in your belly, his cock hitting your g-spot only intensifying the pressure. "m'close– g'na make me cum--" you manage to breathe out some resemblance of a sentence, through his overwhelming affection and each word coming out as a moan, talking proves to be a bit difficult.
"yeah?" his voice is low and smooth, "y'can't help it, i know sweetheart," he rubs your arm tenderly, "gonna help you, okay? can i do that baby?" you can tell just how enamored he is by you, speaking to you and loving on you like you're the only person in the world, gazing at you like you hung the stars just for him.
you nod dumbly, not caring to ask what he means with how fucked-out you are, brain a pile of mush. before you can compute, he snakes his hand down between the two of you and finds your puffy folds, spreading them. you gasp, hands squeezing at his biceps. "s'okay" he reassures you, thumb finding your sensitive clit and rubbing tight circles on the bud.
it's enough to make you cry out in pleasure, enough to make you gush around his cock. gojo groans at the feeling, watching your expression in pure awe. "i know, baby" his pace never falters, so close to the edge himself. "there you go, let it all out–" his balls tighten up as he hits his peak, still holding you close, wanting there to be no space between the two of you. he fucks into you a few last times while spilling his warm release deep inside of you, a heady feeling.
he nearly pants, not bothering to pull out when he flops down beside you and pulls you to lay on his chest. you're worn out, and thoroughly satisfied. "did so good, sweet girl" he's smiling, cooing at you and scratching your back soothingly. you simply hum in response, words failing you.
he lets out a chuckle, "my sleepy angel..." his cheesy words could make you laugh if you weren't so spent, so you settle on curling into the comfort of him further, letting him pamper you with his voice.
as you both doze off, you swear you can hear him whisper a little "love you", and you know he means it. because you're all his, and he's all yours.
ა ˙˖ in which → you have car sex with your biggest op, satoru gojo
frat!jo 𝓍 fem!reader
Everyone knows you hate fraternities, especially Theta Phi and it's president, Satoru Gojo
It was a given. The sky is blue, grass is green and according to you, fraternities are the root of all evil.
Which is why when you started fucking Gojo, it was under the condition that this was strictly between the two of you and you'd ruin his life if he told anyone about this.. arrangement.
Here's what not even your closest friends know about you: you had a very high libido and none of the men you were interested in had been capable of keeping up. you tried sleeping with athletes but even they didn't have the stamina to go for more than two rounds and while your vibrators always helped you, you had grown sexually frustrated and needed more.
You started snapping over the tiniest things, losing sleep and even daydreaming during lectures about getting fucked.
This.. arrangement started when you had been assigned to work on a project with Gojo, the arrogant white haired manchild you hated since the first day of uni. Now you were stuck with him for two months, working on a project he cared little about since he was too busy trying to charm his way into not just your pants, but your heart.
As if!
"Fuck, just like that, princesss. Come on, I know you can go faster." Gojo chuckles and grabs onto your hips, spreading his legs wider as he starts bouncing you on his cock so hard that the car is rocking back and forth, windows fogging up as he lifts his hips to pound into you.
You should be working on this project that was due in a few weeks, but instead you let Gojo drag you to the backseat of his car with the promise that this would be quick, something to clear your minds so you could focus on your work without any distractions.
Yet here you were four rounds later with cum dripping down your thighs from his previous loads that started to seep from the condom, body shaking as you neared your fourth orgasm.
"Screw you asshole, how about you get on top you lazy bast- oh!" Gojo lifts you off his cock and flips you onto your knees, awkwardly moving within the limited space until he’s behind you and lining his cock up with your entrance.
"You're so fucking mean to me, I love it." Gojo leans over your body to suck on your neck, one hand holding onto your hip while the other grips the back of the seat as he pushes into you.
"You d-deserve it." You push back against him as he pushes forward, meeting him halfway until he's balls deep inside of you, your cunt hungrily squeezing him for more, eyes rolling back when he starts to slowly move his hips.
You hadn't meant for this to go on for as long as it has. You had been frustrated after a shift at work, then you walked in on your roommate getting her back blown out, and when you went to meet Gojo for a quick study session at the library, it was closed and he smirked and told you his place was around the corner.
You reluctantly got into his car, arms folded across your chest as you stared out the window the entire way there, ignoring his flirtatious comments. It had frustrated you to no end, so who could really blame you when you started drooling after he offered to help you with your little issue?
It was supposed to be a one time thing, a quick solution to your "problem" until you could find someone more permanent, someone you didn't despise.
Only Gojo had matched your freak perfectly, going six rounds your first time and only taking a break once. You didn't want it to be him, did everything to convince yourself that he was actually terrible in bed but your vibrators had turned stale after that night, your mind constantly drifting to how hard Gojo made you cum on his dick and on his tongue.
He was just too good.
You arch your back so he can hit deeper, hands tightly gripping the leather head rest to steady yourself, skirt yanked above your waist, bra and shirt long discarded on the car floor.
You cry out when he hits a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars, head spinning from how deep he was fucking you.
Gojo groans and leans forward, grabbing your chin to turn your head toward his, pink lips slamming against yours. The kiss is careless, his tongue fighting yours, you angrily biting his lip because you hate yourself for letting him fuck you when you swore up and down you’d never get involved with a fratboy.
Gojo didn’t care, savoring the taste of his blood mixing with the spit you both traded.
When he pulls away, your brows furrow from the way he's staring at you, white hair falling into his face, lips slightly busted from your bite, a foreign feeling twirling in your belly. This was just sex, you wanted nothing more from him so why was he staring at you like he wanted to tell you something that would ruin your current agreement?
"Look at you.” He whispers too softly. “Letting me fuck you like a slut in my car. Anyone could walk by, you know? See how good I fuck you, how well you take me. You want that?"
When you try to turn your head, he tightens his grip on your jaw and smirks, slamming into you as he thrusts grow sloppy. The sound of your wet pussy squelching filling the car has him dizzy with need.
"You don't have to answer, your moans are telling me enough." He kisses you one more time before letting you go and pulling back.
You don't have a chance to dwell on what he was implying before he was gripping your hips and pounding into you at a pace that had you crying out as the coil in your belly tightens, your puffy walls gripping around Gojo's cock.
"M'gonna cum again!" You whined as his tip hit your cervix perfectly, fat tears escaping your eyes while your mouth dropped open in a silent cry.
You try to fuck him back, really you do but your legs are noodles at this point and the only thing keeping you up was Gojo's steady hands on your hips, euphoria coursing through your body and making your head dizzy with need.
“Come on, princess. Give me another one, yeah? You can do it, such a good girl f’me.”
You hate him so much, hate that he knows exactly what to say to push you over the edge, that he was way too in-tune with your body as if he had been created to please you.
Gojo pulls you up against his chest and you let your head fall on his shoulder. He wraps one arm around your waist and squeezes you flush against him, his other hand moving around your body until he’s rubbing circles on your clit and you’re lazily bucking back against him.
“Feels so good Toru, haah, don’t stop!”
The car reeked of sex, windows blurred from the breathy moans falling from yours and Gojo’s mouths as you both rock into each other. Anyone walking by would know what was happening inside. You thanked god it was late and the parking lot had been empty.
“Really? Thought you hated me, pretty girl. Who knew- fuck, who knew you had such loose morals?” He laughs in your ear, hand pushing on your back to arch it even further while he split you on his cock.
“F-fuck you, oh im close!”
Gojo laughs and places a kiss on the side of your head that lingers longer than it should before pushing you back down to get a better angle and his next slam sends you over the edge, your orgasm tearing through your soul as you squirt all over his seats and cry out his name.
This was better than porn.
Gojo doesn’t laugh this time, doesn’t make any snide comments because he can barely breathe with the way your cunt is pulsing around his cock, your juices dripping down his thighs and he thinks he’s going crazy because he’s never had pussy this good.
The fact that you hated him made this even better for some reason, motivated him to fuck you until you finally admitted that this was more than just casual sex. That he wasn’t delusional in thinking this could be something deeper.
He squeezes your hips tighter, pushing as deep as he can as he pumps his third load into the condom, eyes rolling back and a strangled groan escaping his lips as thick hot cum drips from the latex and into your warm pussy.
Gojo can feel it slipping it off, can feel your heat and gummy walls on his half free cock and it has him feral as he picks up his pace and fucks another load into you, his balls tightening and pulsing because you had never felt this good.
“Shit, princess. You’re so fucking wet, so good, s-so perfect.” He drops against your back, still holding you up as his hips stutter and slow, pushing the last of his orgasm out while you both catch your breath.
He stays there for a moment, his face tucked into the crook of your neck, thumbs rubbing circles on your hips as you both come down from your high. You can feel his cum leaking from you and down your thighs and you hate how it awakens something primal inside of you. And when the thought to push it back in had formed, you blamed it on your disheveled state.
In any other instance you would have pushed him off you already, huffing that it was only sex and would never happen again even though you both knew that was a lie.
Something about Gojo had you coming back for seconds and thirds. Every fuck session was somehow better than the last, making you forget that this was supposed to be a one time thing, something to hold you over until you found a more suitable partner.
Only you were starting to realize Gojo might be the best you ever had. It made you hate him more.
You gasp when he slowly pulls out, pussy overstimulated and swollen from the multiple rounds you went in the span of an hour. Both of you sitting on the cushion, one of your arms draped across the seat, Gojo’s throw over his eyes.
You sneak a look at him, heart thumping at how attractive he looked. His hair was all over the place, cheeks red from exhaustion, and his pants and boxers were still halfway down, cock still free and housing a half on condom. Your skin tingles at the sight of his abdomen and white pubes wet with your release.
He looked as fucked out as you felt.
Not one for awkward silence, you lift your hips to pull your panties back up and your skirt down, stretching your body to reach into the front seat for your shirt, ass in the air and you almost have it, your finger literally grazes the blue fabric before Gojo grabs you and pulls you down.
“Gojo! Oh my god, let go you freak.” You’re fuming, trying your best to wiggle out his grip but he just tightens his arms around your stomach, pulling you against him and lowering his head onto your back, littering it in soft kisses that burn through your skin.
"Go on a date with me. Please?"
This again. You told him multiple times before that this was simply sex, two college students helping each other out and nothing more. No feelings outside of helping the other get off. His stubbornness would only hurt him in the end.
"God no, I don't date frat boys."
"What if I left?"
You freeze against him, a lump forming in your chest. "Aren't you the president? You can't just leave."
What a cruel joke. Not that you wanted him anyways but even if you did, Gojo would never leave his fraternity. Certainly not for you. You two weren’t lovers, weren’t friends and we’re barely acquaintances given the fact that he was your number one op.
You remembered the time in sophomore year when he publicly called you an uptight bitch because you told him his party sucked. You lived different lives, it could never work. He would never change and you would never see him as more than a quick fuck and your unfortunate project buddy that you’d go back to ignoring once this was over.
"I can do whatever I want sweetheart, did you forget my last name?" He lifts his head and kisses your shoulder this time, goosebumps forming on your arms. Of course, he always tried to fix everything with money and status, which is another reason why you hated him.
You sit there quietly, lost in your thoughts.
You couldn’t seriously be with someone like Gojo, right? He was brash, had an ego out of this world and was a bratty nepo baby that flirted with anyone with a hole.
"So?" he asks, hopeful. HIs fingers gently dig into your belly to keep you from moving away, one hand coming up to grip your chin and turn your head back to him.
"So?" You repeat, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you lose yourself in his eyes.
For all of his.. lack of good qualities, he never failed in the facial department. Perhaps that was another reason you disliked him, because no matter how many insults you can throw his way, ugly wasn’t one of them.
Satoru Gojo was sculpted by the Gods themselves, which was unfortunate, because no one with a face like that should have a personality so catastrophically irritating. You can’t help but to let your eyes. traitorous things that they were, linger.
He notices because of course he does, and the smile that spreads across his face lacks any of his usual arrogance and for a second you imagined what life as his girlfriend could be like.
The thought came uninvited, images of him giving you sleepy morning kisses nad taking you on dates vivid enough to make your stomach twist.
Absolutely not.
Satoru Gojo was many things: powerful, insufferable, unbearably handsome, but he was not boyfriend material.
"Will you go on a date with me if I leave the frat?"
"No."
You answer too fast and Gojo is once again left heartbroken as you pull away to finish dressing yourself, refusing to spare him another look. He could understand why you hated him, but if you would just give him a chance to prove he could be different, he knew he wouldn’t disappoint you.
He would just have to keep trying, keep working for your favor because he would make you his if it was the last thing he did. He was competitive to his core and that wouldn’t waver just because he had finally met his match.
On the contrary, it only motivated him more. He saw the way you looked at him, how you were starting to let him touch you longer than you would have when this first started.
He was slowly breaking your walls down and it was only a matter of time before he made you his.
❦ lisa's note: this will be a series! I'll post the masterlist for it soon but lemme know if you wanna be tagged! 😋
ಇ.word count: 5.5k ಇ.art by: @!narutoss.ramen on X
ಇ.pairing: Nerd!Satoru x Nerd!Reader
ಇ.content & warnings: ꒰non canon au ⋮⋮ crack! ⋮⋮ reader & satoru are heavily inexperienced ⋮⋮ Satoru being annoying otp ⋮⋮ bad sexting ⋮⋮ masturbation m & f ⋮⋮ reader humps a pillow ⋮⋮ oral. fem rec ⋮⋮ loss of virginity ⋮⋮ p in v ⋮⋮ multi-orgasms ⋮⋮ c-pied ⋮⋮ cum eating ⋮⋮ kissing꒱
It had been a week. One whole week since the two of you had officially, undeniably, ridiculously become a couple. Your boyfriend. You still were not entirely sure how that word had ended up belonging to Satoru Gojo.
Sometimes you would be doing something completely ordinary. Brushing your teeth. Standing in line at the grocery store. Trying to decide what to eat for dinner. And your brain would suddenly go. Oh. Satoru is your boyfriend. Then you would have to stand there for a moment. Staring blankly at whatever was in front of you while your face slowly heated.
It was stupid. You had had boyfriends before. Technically. Well— Maybe not. Okay. No. Not really. But Satoru was different. Satoru was the person who had somehow gone from a complete stranger you met at a Doraemon expo, to the man whose name sat permanently pinned at the top of your messages.
Your Satoru. Your boyfriend. And apparently, according to him you were his girlfriend. He had started using the word like he had been waiting his entire life for permission. "My girl." "My girlfriend." "Angel." "Pretty girl." "My favourite person."
The first time he called you my girl over text you stared at the message for a solid thirty seconds before throwing your phone onto your bed. Then you picked it right back up. Then you reread it. Then you buried your face in your pillow.
Satoru meanwhile had apparently been having an equally profound experience. Because somewhere between the movie theater and the following morning he realized something terrifying. He had a girlfriend. Satoru Gojo had a girlfriend. Not a temporary fling. Not someone he met at a party and forgot the next morning. Not a stranger whose number would eventually disappear somewhere in the endless scroll of his phone.
You.
You were the person he could text when he woke up. The person he could send stupid memes to. The person who actually laughed at his jokes. The person who would tolerate him rambling about something obscure for twenty minutes because you genuinely wanted to hear him talk. And perhaps most importantly you were the person who had seen him at his most embarrassingly enthusiastic and somehow still wanted him afterward.
That last part had been sitting in his head a lot. More than he would ever admit. Because the thing was. Satoru had never really thought he would have this. Not in the way he had always secretly wanted it. Someone who wanted to know him. Someone who wanted to stay. Someone who would curl against him and laugh until her stomach hurt because he said something stupid. Someone who would look at him like he was something precious.
It made him feel almost unbearably lucky. Which was annoying. Because Satoru Gojo did not like feeling unbearably anything. Except apparently unbearably lucky. And unbearably horny.
That was becoming a problem too. A very significant problem.
It had been a couple weeks since that wild night in the bathroom stall at the movies. Your first real date. The way his hands had found you there. Inside you. The heat and the rush and the desperate way you both clung to each other after. Confirming everything. He was your boyfriend now. You were his girl. Satoru Gojo was a lucky boy because he did not think he would ever have a girlfriend. Someone to spend time with. Someone to share his jokes with and hear your pretty laugh in return.
That night after he came to the realization that he actually had his hands on you. Inside you. It had all been so surreal. And now the two of you had been constantly talking over text. Even sexting. Yeah. Sexting.
The first time it happened started innocently enough. He had just gotten out of the shower.
You were lying in bed. Half watching something on your laptop when your phone buzzed. You picked it up. A message from Satoru.
toru 🩵
showered
A smiled appeared on your face immediately, a big one, as your fingers clicked his message open and began typing.
you 🩷
congratulations?
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. Then—
toru 🩵
wow
toru 🩵
that's all i get
That made you giggle to yourself.
you 🩷
what do you want
His response took longer this time. Then your phone buzzed, a picture??? Why was he sending a picture right now, you took a sharp inhale.
And opened it. And immediately sat up. Satoru was standing in what looked like his dorm room, obviously. You've been there a couple of times to recognise the background. He was still wet. A towel hanging loosely around his neck. He wasn't smiling properly exactly. It was more of that lazy little half smirk he did when he knew precisely what he was doing. Your heart gave one stupid, traitorous little thump.
You stared. Then stared some more. Your nipples tightened under your shirt just from the sight of him like that. Fresh from the shower. Skin still warm and damp.
you 🩷
oh
His reply came instantly.
toru 🩵
oh?
You bit your lip, in anticipation
you 🩷
you look nice
toru 🩵
nice?
you 🩷
yes
toru 🩵
that's so romantic
You peered at your screen, then rolled your eyes.
you 🩷
shut up
toru 🩵
no no i'm listening
toru 🩵
tell me more about how nice i look
You could practically hear his voice. That amused teasing tone. Your pussy gave a slow warm throb as you typed.
you 🩷
your hair looks pretty
There was a pause. Longer this time. Then—
toru 🩵
pretty?
You sighed, then frowned.
you 🩷
yes
toru 🩵
you think i'm pretty?
Your cheeks warmed and there was heat pooling low in your belly now.
you 🩷
i didn't say that
toru 🩵
you literally did
you 🩷
i said your hair is pretty
toru 🩵
coward
You gasped... The audacity. No he did not.
you 🩷
excuse me?
toru 🩵
you heard me
You were smiling madly, not being able to help it anymore.
you 🩷
your hair is pretty
you 🩷
your face is pretty
you 🩷
happy now?
His answer took almost a full minute.
toru 🩵
very
Then another message.
toru 🩵
you should send me a picture too
You looked down at yourself. You were wearing an oversized shirt, it was nothing special. Nothing remotely seductive. Your hair was messy. You had not done anything to look pretty. But your body was already reacting. Skin tingling. Pussy getting slick just from talking to him.
you 🩷
i'm in bed
toru 🩵
i know
Your eyebrows lifted, a real psychic he is.
you 🩷
how?
toru 🩵
because you just told me
You laughed, and shook your head unbelievably.
you 🩷
idiot
toru 🩵
what are you wearing
Your smile faltered. Not because the question was shocking. It was just. Different. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Your nipples were hard now. Pressing against the soft fabric.
you 🩷
clothes
His response came immediately.
toru 🩵
wow
toru 🩵
incredibly specific
You pressed your lips together.
you 🩷
an oversized shirt
toru 🩵
whose?
You blinked.
you 🩷
mine
toru 🩵
boring 🙄
you 🩷
you're annoying
He didn't waste time sending the next message.
toru 🩵
take it off
Your stomach flipped, tf!? You stared at the words. A rush of shy heat flooded your face and between your legs.
you 🩷
...why?
The three dots appeared.
toru 🩵
curiosity
Another message.
toru 🩵
scientific research 😇
You laughed so suddenly you had to cover your mouth. Your clit throbbed and you wanted to touch it. You wanted his voice telling you to.
you 🩷
you're such a nerd
toru 🩵
says the girl who went to a fucking doraemon expo with me
you 🩷
i hate you
toru 🩵
no you don't
Your fingers went still. Because he was right. You did not. You really really didn't.
you 🩷
no
Then.
you 🩷
i don't
His response was almost immediate.
toru 🩵
yeah
toru 🩵
i know
You stared at the screen. And then your phone rang.
You nearly dropped it.
"Satoru?"
His voice came through warm and slightly amused.
"Hi."
"You called."
"I did."
"Why?"
"You were taking too long to answer."
You smiled despite yourself.
"To what?"
"Anything."
You rolled onto your stomach now.
"Satoru."
"Angel."
The nickname was softer over the phone. That was the problem. Everything sounded different when he said it aloud. You tucked your face into your pillow. Your pussy was wet now. Aching.
"What?"
"Are you still wearing the shirt?"
You made a tiny noise of disbelief.
"You're still on that?"
"I'm persistent."
"You're annoying." Yes he definitely was.
"You like me."
"I do." ... "fucker" - You muttered that under your breath.
The silence afterward was immediate. You could hear him breathe, it was soft and shallow, like he himself was trying hard to stay still. It made you close your eyes. You smiled.
"What's wrong?" Your voice came out a little shaky, you didn't mean for it to.
"Nothing." He said voice calm, almost assuring.
"You went quiet."
"I'm appreciating the fact that my girlfriend just admitted she likes me." Well that sounded a bit sarcastic.
"You already knew that." You retorted.
"I like hearing it."
Something in your chest softened. You turned onto your back. Your hand drifted down. Hovering shyly over your stomach.
"You're ridiculous." A small chuckle left your lips.
"Yeah."
His voice.. you can tell he was smiling. Then after a moment.
"Can I see you?"
Your heart jumped, you started to blink rapidly.
"uuuh r-right now?"
"Right now." He said straightforwardly.
"Satoru." You said, voice coming out an octave louder than necessary.
"What?"
"You've already seen me."
"I know."
"Today." You reminded.
"I know."
"Earlier." You re-affirmed.
"I know."
You could hear the grin in his voice.
"I want to see you right now, Angel."
That did something to you. Something so embarrassingly simple, had you smiling ear to ear at the ceiling. Your fingers slipped lower. Brushing over where your panties were soaked through.
"Okay." You sighed breathlessly.
There was a small pause. Then the call changed. The screen lit up, the emoticon to switch to video, you pressed it absentmindedly. And suddenly there he was. Satoru. His hair was still damp. His towel had fallen around his shoulders. He was lying back against his pillows, and his signature wire-rimmed glasses weren't on. He had one hand resting behind his head.
"Hi." He said playfully, his perfect teeth glaring at you.
You stared, eyes probably wide. He raised an eyebrow.
"Hi?"
"Yes. Hi." He tutted, then without giving you a second—
"You're staring."
"I'm not." You blinked your eyes off to the side.
"You are." He teased.
You groaned softly. "Your hair is still wet."
"That's what you noticed?" He huffed.
"Yes."
"Wow." Oh you didn't even notice the lack of his spectacles. That kinda broke his heart.
"Stop fishing for compliments." You said, eyes rolling.
"Tell me I'm pretty again."
You laughed, in disbelief.
"No."
"Please?" God... why did that sound so... ughhh.
"No." Your eyebrows pinched together.
"Angel."
Damn.
You covered your face. He laughed. Fuck. You loved his laugh. You loved how easy it was. How he never seemed embarrassed by it. Your fingers pressed lightly against your clit through the fabric.
"You're pretty." You muttered.
"What, what was that, hm?" Oh he was taunting you now.
"I said you're pretty." You said defeatedly.
"Louder."
"No."
"Come on."
"Satoru." That came out a little too whiny.
"Pretty please."
You groaned, again.
"You're pretty." You said honestly, voice loud enough for him.
He smiled and there it was. That look. The one that made you suddenly feel like you were the only person in the world.
"Thank you." That sounded so sweet, coming from him.
"You're welcome."
Then his eyes flicked downward.
"What are you wearing?"
You stared at him. He stared back. You narrowed your eyes. Your pussy clenched.
"You already know. Baka"
"I want to hear you say it."
"Ugh." You're weird."
"I'm your boyfriend."
"That doesn't explain anything."
"It explains everything."
You laughed again. Your fingers started moving in slow shy circles.
"An oversized shirt."
"Still?"
"Yes." Annoyance clear and present in your voice now.
"Nothing else?" He was prying.
You froze. Satoru's expression changed. Not dramatically. Just enough though. His smile softened into something more curious. His free hand shifted lower on screen.
"Angel?"
You swallowed. Your voice came out breathy. Shy but honest.
"You're being nosy."
"Very." At least he was self-aware.
"You can't see anything."
"I didn't ask to see anything."
"You're thinking about it." Oh he definitely was.
"Maybe." That confirmed it.
Your cheeks warmed. Your nipples were so hard they ached. Your pussy was soaking. You wanted to touch yourself properly. To him. To his voice.
"Oh." He said softly.
"What?"
"You're flustered."
"I'm not." You tried to deny, to play it somewhat cool.
"You are." This asshole.
"Stop looking at me."
"Never." omg.. why was he like this?!
You hid your face. But you kept your fingers moving. Slow and awkward. Horny and unsure, no you were sure, so sure actually.
"You're so annoying."
"You're cute."
That shut you up, and Satoru laughed quietly.
"See?" His voice teased.
"See what?"
"I can make you speechless."
"Don't get excited."
"Too late."
You rolled your eyes. But you were smiling. Most times the two of you stayed like that. Talking. Teasing. Learning. There was no rush. No script. Just two people who were still figuring out how to be together. Shy in so many ways even after that bathroom stall. Still exploring every new feeling.
Sometimes the conversation drifted toward things neither of you had the courage to say directly. Questions. Curiosity. Little admissions.
Satoru'd asked what you thought about him. You told him he was irritating. He asked what else. You said he was kind. He went quiet. You asked why. He said he was not used to people saying that. You told him he should get used to it. Then he smiled.
And suddenly you understood something. The flirting was easy. The teasing was easy. But underneath it there was something softer. Something neither of you knew quite how to handle yet. Something that made every new step feel bigger than it should.
But right now your fingers kept rubbing. Little whimpers slipping past your lips, trying to be quiet but he was picking up on every stray sound. He could tell and maybe that excited you.
"Angel. Are you... touching yourself?" His voice dropped. Unfiltered.. teasing and horny, you could hear it.
You bit your lip shyly. Fuck. You were caught.. But you nodded. You nodded anyway because you couldn't keep anything from him even if you wanted to.
"Yeah. A little." Your voice came out strained. There was no going back now.
"Fuck. Don't hide it." He breathed. "Let me see you. Please."
Your heart pounded. But you switched cameras. The screen showed where your t-shirt had ridden up your tummy, and your other hand clearly shoved into the waistband of your panties. His eyes darkened when he saw it.
"You're so pretty like this." He murmured. "You're ah- um touching yourself..?" He sounded so shy and wrecked, asking a dumb question, the answer was obvious enough at this point.
It still made you whimper. Fingers slipping lower under your panties. Sliding through your wet folds.
"Yes. Satoru." Affirmations was definitely his kink.
Your breathless purr of his name, made him groan.. he was coming undone quick. His camera flipped down, now too. His sweats and boxers shoved down mid thigh, cock out and visibly hard. Flushed and pretty. Long and leaking precum at the tip. His slender hand wrapped around it. Stroking slow. All for you to see and your eyes lingered, staring intently.
"Look at what you do to me." He said. Voice rough. "So hard for you angel."
You rubbed your clit faster. Watching him. The way his hand moved. The slick sounds. His moans of your name.
"Satoru..." You gasped. Fingers circling. Wet noises filling the call on both ends.
He stroked harder. Thumb spreading precum over the tip and down his length. "Fuck. Your sounds. S'messy Angel. Let me hear your pretty cunt."
You moaned. Shy but needy. Rubbing quicker, building fast. His hips bucked. Hand flying.
"Angel. M'gonna cum." He panted. Moaning your name loud, then in the next second thick white cum streaked across his chest. Over his fingers. So much. So pretty.
You followed. Messy on your fingers. Clenching and whimpering out his name, desperately.
He caught his breath. Eyes hungry. "Can i see.. Angel.. can I see your fingers? show them to me please.." Fuck... he was begging so nicely, it did something to you.
Shy but obediently you held them up. Shiny, your arousal thick and sappy stringed on your fingers, webbing in the light.
"Good girl... fuck. Put them in your mouth.. haa-ah taste yourself f'me Angel."
You slipped them into your mouth, with a moan, Sucking softly as he wiped his cum off his chest. Licking a bit from his fingers, in sync with you.
The two of you stayed on the call. Breathing softly together. Smiling shyly, left over horniness fading way now. Both connected and sated.
Eventually Satoru's eyes left your pretty face for a second and glanced at the clock in the little upper left corner on his phone.
"It's late." He said in realization.
"It is." You knew it was by now.
"You should sleep." Voice tender-soft.
"You first." You murmured back.
"I'm not tired."
"Neither am I." He sounded believable but you were sure.
"You are."
"I'm not." He was going to play this game, but you weren't gonna let him win this.
"You've yawned three times."
That made him grin, "You're counting?"
"Obviously."
He smiled.
"Stay on the phone, with me Angel." Voice low and lazy.
You blinked.
"While we sleep?"
"Yeah."
Your heart squeezed.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay."
With that he settled deeper into his pillows. You did the same and for a while neither of you said anything. You could hear his breathing. He could hear yours.
And eventually...quietly.
"Hey angel?"
"Yeah?" Your voice came out a little drowsy.
"I'm really glad you're my girlfriend."
You smiled into the darkness.
"Me too."
A pause. Then-
"Also."
"What?"
"Your shirt is still bothering me."
You burst out laughing.
"Satoru!"
He laughed too.
And somewhere between the teasing and the laughter the call stayed connected. The two of you fell asleep like that. Not knowing exactly where this was going. Not knowing how much you would learn about each other. Not knowing how many more firsts were waiting.
Just knowing that somehow. Against all odds. Satoru Gojo had a girlfriend. And you had a boyfriend. And he was lying in bed somewhere smiling at the sound of your sleepy breathing.
Thinking probably for the hundredth time that week. Holy shit. She's really mine.
And maybe just maybe you were thinking the same thing.
Because tomorrow he would text you again. He would send something ridiculous. You would pretend to be annoyed and he'd flirt. You would flirt back. And eventually one of you would say something that made the other flustered.
And you would keep discovering each other. Slowly, carefully, and with hunger. One little secret at a time.
This time you're at his dorm room on campus.
And it starts with a pillow.
Well— you, and a pillow, and a very stupid pair of thigh-high socks that Satoru swore would be the death of him when you slid into his dorm room wearing them and nothing else but one of his oversized hoodies and a shy little smirk.
He gawked.
You straddled his pillow without a word, right in the middle of his bed, and started grinding. Soft. Slow. Just for yourself. His jaw went slack. His hands froze mid-text. And you were so casual about it, like you didn’t even notice the way he was staring at you like you’d hung the moon with your pussy.
“Practicing,” you’d murmured, shrugging cutely.
“For what?” he asked, voice wrecked.
Your smile was pure trouble. “Riding.”
Satoru dropped his phone. Physically. Onto the floor.
You giggled. "I wanted to see if I could get off just humping something."
He made a sound like he'd been punched.
So now here you are— on your hands and knees, still wearing his hoodie and those sinful socks, pussy flushed and puffy from humping his favorite dorm pillow, hips twitching like you're almost there. You don't even realize you're whimpering until his hands slide around your hips, and he speaks, low and starving, right behind you.
“Angel…”
You look back over your shoulder.
Satoru is kneeling behind you, shirtless, eyes dark with hunger. He brushes your ass with his palm. Then slips his hand between your thighs and cups your pussy over the pillow. Soaked-sticky and messy.
“You’re so wet,” he groans. “You were gonna cum on a pillow and not even let me watch?”
“I was...testing” you pant, wearily.
He flips you like a doll.
Suddenly you’re flat on your back, head on the sheets, thighs trembling open and hoodie bunched around your waist. The pillow lies forgotten beside you, damp with slick. He looms over you, hair falling into his eyes, lips parted and pink.
“You wanna ride my face, Angel?” he asks, voice hoarse.
Your whole body shivers.
“…Can I?”
He laughs soft and stunned, worshipful almost, and leans down to kiss you like you’re the most delicious thing in the world.
“Fuck yes, you can. Sit on my face. Suffocate me. Make me drown in it.”
He lays back against the pillows, adjusting under you with arms out like a throne. His glasses are already tossed to the side, and he’s licking his lips like he can already taste you. You’re climbing over him, thighs shaking, when he grabs your hips and drags you up.
“Right here,” he whispers, eyes locked on your glistening cunt above him. “Right here, baby. Let me feel the weight of it.”
You lower slowly, knees braced, hands pressed into the wall behind his headboard. You hover above his mouth, panting and then, gently, you sank down.
His tongue meets your folds like he’s starving.
You wail.
Your pussy clenches instantly, overwhelmed by the first hot drag of his tongue from your entrance to your clit. Satoru groans, loud, grabs your thighs like he needs more, and pulls you down until you’re seated fully on his mouth.
“Satoru!” you cry out, rocking without meaning to.
His tongue slides in now, licking into your dripping pussy like he’s mapping it. He moans like it tastes like heaven, like it’s a privilege just to be under you. Your thighs squeeze around his head. Your hips roll. Your clit finds his nose. And you grind.
He’s letting you.
Letting you fuck his mouth like you need it to breathe.
“Don’t stop,” you whimper. “Don’t stop, I’m— Satoru, I’m gonna cum, I’m so close—”
He hums against your clit and the vibration breaks you.
You cum on his tongue with a scream, body jerking, hips grinding down in helpless little circles. He grabs your thighs, keeps you there, mouth open, licking, moaning, slurping like he doesn’t care that you’re sobbing above him.
You collapse forward, hips still twitching, body limp, cheek against his bare chest.
He gasps when you move off him, his face soaked, chin dripping with your slick.
“…You taste like candy,” he whispers, starry-eyed.
You’re panting, half-laughing. “That was insane.”
“I think I’m addicted to your pussy.”
You slap his chest, weakly.
He grins, wild and happy, then he murmurs, "You've got the prettiest pussy I've ever seen Angel, We need to do this again.. maybe ah-hundred times before we," His voice drops as he leans in and whispers into your ear teasingly, "fuck huh?"
Now you’ve been thinking about it all day.
All week, really.
Every time your thighs press together too tightly in class, every time you catch Satoru’s glazed-over stare sliding to your chest or how he bites his lip when you fidget in your seat—you think about riding him.
You’ve made out on his futon. You’ve touched. Explored. Cum multiple times on his fingers while crying into his neck. You’ve memorized the way he moans when you stroke him, how his cock twitches helplessly when you kiss the head and whisper how much you want to take it inside.
So now… it’s time.
You sit on his lap in his tiny, warm dorm room, legs bare, wearing nothing but one of his hoodies and knee socks, straddling him while his hands hover at your waist like he’s too scared to grip you. Your panties are already shoved to the side. His sweats are pushed down, and his cock's hard. Flushed, drooling against his belly, it twitches between your folds like it’s waiting for permission.
You’re both shaking.
“You don’t have to,” he whispers. “Not tonight. Only if you really want—”
“I need to,” you breathe.
You lean close, your nose brushing his, eyes wide and nervous but burning.
“I want to ride you, Satoru.”
He chokes on air.
“Oh my god.”
Your hand wraps around the base of his cock, hot and slick from his own arousal, and you guide him up, between your slick folds, over your clit. You both shudder. You roll your hips, let him feel the mess he’s made of you. His eyes are already fluttering back.
“You’re so wet,” he whispers. “You’re gonna take me?”
You nod. “Just… let me go slow.”
You lift your hips, line him up with your tight little entrance, and take a deep breath.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
He holds your waist, his grip tightening.
The tip presses in.
And holy fuck.
You’re stretching already, your walls squeezing down on him like you’re trying to keep him inside before he’s even all the way in. Your jaw falls open. He moans so loud into your shoulder you nearly lose balance.
“Oh ...oh fuck angel—angel, you’re so tight—fuck, I can’t—”
You both gasp, frozen, as you sink down another inch. It’s like a punch to your stomach and your cunt at the same time—hot, overwhelming, raw and perfect. Your thighs tremble. Your nails dig into his shoulders.
“I can feel everything,” you sob. “You’re so big, Satoru, you’re splitting me open.”
He’s crying. A little. From how tight you are. From how warm. From the way your pussy clenches around him like you love him already and he hasn’t even bottomed out yet.
“Tell me when to stop,” he pants. “Tell me if I hurt you.”
“You’re not,” you gasp. “Don’t stop—don’t stop. I need you.”
You sink lower. Lower. Inch by inch, your walls stretch around him, pulsing with slick heat.
Then— you bottom out.
And it feels like your whole body is going to break open from the pressure, from how full you are.
You bury your face in his shoulder. “I’m full. I’m so fucking full, I can feel you in my stomach—”
His hips twitch and he sobs again.
“I’m inside,” he whispers. “You’re letting me in. You’re my first—”
You press your lips to his ear. “You’re my first, too.”
And then— you rock.
Gently. Testing how much you can move.
And his hands slam down on your hips like he can’t take it. His cock twitches inside you, and your walls clench around him in response.
You moan.
He moans louder.
Then you start riding him, slow and messy. Tight little bounces, up n down. Just enough to feel the stretch, the slide, the overwhelming wet heat of your cunt clinging to him like your body doesn’t want to let go. It’s all instinct and desperation. The sounds of skin against skin, of slick, needy friction echoing in the tiny dorm room.
Your thighs are shaking. His hands won’t stop gripping, guiding, worshiping.
“Fuck, angel— fuck, you’re riding me—”
You cry out. “You’re so deep— I-I can’t—I feel you in my chest—”
He bucks into you by accident and you scream, throwing your head back.
“Did I hurt you?!”
“N-no—again, do that again—”
He does. And you swear you go cross-eyed.
The rhythm is clumsy. Awkward. Your knees are slipping and his hips stutter, but you don’t care. You don’t care about perfect. You care about how he moans your name like a prayer. How your pussy makes that wet little schlk sound every time you take him down to the base.
“I’m gonna cum,” he gasps. “I’m gonna—fuck, I can’t hold it—”
You grab his cheeks, force his eyes to meet yours.
“Cum in me,” you whisper. “Please. Make a mess inside me.”
His cock throbs violently.
“Angel—fuck—I love you—”
He explodes.
It’s hot. You feel it fill you— pulse after desperate pulse. Sticky, thick, messy. It overflows instantly, leaking between your thighs and down his cock while you grind and cry out again, cumming right after him. You shake through it— sobbing, clenching, writhing in his lap like your body doesn’t know how to survive this much fullness.
You collapse against his chest.
His hands cradle you.
He’s panting. Moaning your name over and over.
“I’ve never felt anything so good,” he whispers.
You kiss him then, slow and shaky-sweet.
“Neither have I.”
And then you both fall backward onto the bed, tangled, ruined, still joined at the hips.
You stay that way for a long, long time.
You’re still straddling him.
Bare thighs trembling. Pussy aching. His cock softening slowly inside you, twitching with little aftershocks, buried deep in your cunt and leaking. You can feel it. His cum—so much of it— pooling hot and sticky inside your body. Seeping out in slow, obscene dribbles every time you shift or twitch.
It’s messy. You’re flushed and overwhelmed, shivering through the afterglow and clinging to his hoodie like a lifeline.
And Satoru Gojo is staring between your legs like he’s entranced.
You glance down. Follow his line of sight.
There’s a little stream of milky white trickling from where he’s still inside you, slipping down between your folds and soaking into the mess of his hoodie bunched beneath your ass. You clench involuntarily and more leaks out— sticky-warm and filthy.
Satoru groans.
“I can see it.” His voice is wrecked. “It’s—fuck, it’s dripping out of you. That’s my cum. Inside you.”
You moan softly, hips rocking like you’re chasing the stretch again.
His hands grip your waist.
“I wanna clean you up,” he whispers, breath hot against your cheek.
You blink, dazed. “I can just— get a towel, or—”
“No. Not like that.”
You look down. He’s already pulling out—slowly— and you both gasp as his softening cock slips free of your pussy, followed immediately by a thick, wet gush of cum that drips from your folds in slow, shiny strands.
Satoru watches it fall.
Then he drops to his knees.
Right between your thighs.
“Satoru— what are you—”
“I need to,” he says, voice low, eyes blown wide and desperate. “Please. Let me clean it with my mouth.”
You can’t even think. Not with the way he’s looking at you like you’re something divine, something sweet and holy and soaked in his mess. His hands part your trembling thighs and he moans at the sight of your sticky, cum-dripping pussy glistening in the soft dorm light.
“Angel,” he whispers, reverent. “You’re ruined. I made such a mess.”
You reach down, brush his hair back. “Then clean it up.”
He dives in.
His tongue slides through your folds— warm, flat, soaking up the slick with long, filthy licks. You scream, thighs snapping around his head, because you’re so sensitive, still throbbing from your orgasm, and now his tongue is licking up his own cum from your pussy like he’s starving.
You squirm. Whimper. Try to push him back. “S-Satoru—s'too much—!”
He groans into your cunt, arms wrapping around your hips, holding you down like he’s not letting go until you’re clean.
“Can taste you,” he pants between licks. “You and me, mixed together—fuck, it’s so sweet—”
You throw your head back, moaning like a girl gone dumb.
His mouth is everywhere— lapping up the mess he made, licking into your hole, nosing against your clit until you’re gasping through gritted teeth, thighs shaking violently.
You’ve never felt anything like it.
It’s so dirty. So loving.
So deeply, terrifyingly intimate.
“Satoru—please—”
“Cum again,” he begs. “One more. Let me taste it fresh.”
And you do.
You cum with a sob, hips jerking, pussy leaking fresh slick into his mouth. He groans, drinks it, licks until you’re sobbing and twitching and clinging to his hair like you don’t know who you are anymore.
When he finally pulls back, his is face wet, chin shining, cheeks pink and you’re spread wide, limp, flushed from your ears to your tits and totally wrecked.
He climbs over you, kisses your forehead, then your lips, slowly, letting you taste yourself, his cum, the sweat and breathlessness of your shared first time.
“You’re my favourite thing,” he whispers.
You start crying.
He cradles you, strokes your hair, tucks you against his chest and wraps a blanket over your trembling body.
“I want you again,” you whisper.
He kisses your hair.
“I’m yours now,” he says. “So anytime you want me… I’m yours.
𝓲𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 ♰ you distract your nerdy boyfriend from studying with an overwhelming amount of kisses until he forgets what he was even working on.
✿ ◞◟) gojo satoru 𝓍 gn!reader
𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 suggestive, nerd!satoru, established relationship, domestic fluff, mutual pining . . . except they’re already dating, lovestruck!reader, satoru being the prettiest boy ever, lots and lots of kisses everywhere, satoru is a blushing mess.
the apartment smelled like old paper and the faint, slightly burnt remnant of instant coffee satoru had made hours ago and promptly forgotten about.
it was a familiar scent, woven into the fabric of your shared space, a testimony to the academic chaos that was your boyfriend’s life. the only light in the living room came from a single, scarred desk lamp, its yellowed beam creating a small, concentrated island of illumination on the mountain of books and papers that covered the table. and there, at the very center of this organized pandemonium sat gojo satoru.
you paused in the doorway, leaning against the frame, a small, private smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.
this was your favorite version of satoru, not the charming, effortlessly brilliant student who could dismantle a complex theorem with a lazy grin, but this one; the one who was so deeply absorbed in his studies that the rest of the world ceased to exist. his glasses, a pair of sleek, dark-framed ones he only wore when his contacts got too dry from staring at a screen for hours, were perched on his nose, slightly askew. one of the legs was tucked behind his ear, the other was not, making the entire frame sit at a jaunty, almost comical angle, and he was completely oblivious to it.
he was dressed for comfort with a soft grey hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing the lean, defined muscles of his forearms. his hair, that iconic, beautiful white hair that usually looked like a celestial cloud, was a disaster. soft tufts stuck up in every direction, a few stubborn strands plastered to his temple, a result of running his fingers through it. satoru’s head was propped on his hand, his brow furrowed as he stared at a particularly dense page of text, his lips moving silently as he read. he was so focused, so utterly adorable in his nerdy, intense concentration, that it made your chest ache with a wave of pure, unadulterated affection.
satoru was also, you noted with a warmth that bloomed low in your stomach, incredibly, incredibly hot.
it was a strange dichotomy he embodied perfectly; the ridiculous glasses, the messy hair, the oversized hoodie — all of it screamed 'cute, loveable nerd!'. but then there was the sharp line of his jaw, the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, the sheer, overwhelming masculine grace in the way he held himself even while hunched over a textbook. that bone-deep beauty that he seemed so unaware of in these moments, which only made it all the more potent.
you slowly pushed off from the doorframe, your footsteps soft on the wooden floor.
you didn’t want to startle satoru completely, but a small part of you, the part that was currently being consumed by a huge wave of adoration, wanted to see the exact moment his focus shattered. you crept up behind your boyfriend, your shadow falling over his work. he didn’t react, not even a flinch, so lost in his own world he was. you leaned down, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, and whispered;
"you’re doing the thing."
“hmm?" satoru mumbled, not looking up, his pen still scratching a note in the margin. "what thing?"
"the thing where you look like you’re trying to solve world hunger and global warming at the same time," you murmured slowly, your lips now ghosting along satoru’s jawline. "it’s very . . . strenuous."
satoru paused then, his hand stilling. a slow, pleased shiver ran through him, so subtle you wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t pressed so close.
"it’s just a paper on quantu—mmph . . . !"
you cut him off, but not with a kiss on the lips, no.
you placed a soft, deliberate peck right on the corner of his mouth. a simple, chaste little thing, but it was enough to finally pull satoru’s attention away from the page.
your boyfriend blinked, his head turning slightly to look at you, his glasses still crooked. his eyes, a brilliant, captivating shade of cerulean, were a little unfocused, like he was dragging himself back from the theoretical realm of quantum entanglement to the very real, very immediate you.
"b-baby . . . " he said, a soft, dopey smile spreading across his face, the tension in his shoulders easing.
"mhhh. you’re very pretty when you’re concentrating, you know that?"
a faint blush, the barest hint of pink, dusted his cheeks.
"i’m not pretty," satoru mumbled, a knee-jerk protest, his eyes already drifting back to his notes. "i’m . . . i’m a force of nature. a towering intellect. pretty is a—hey!"
you had done it again, this time placing a kiss on his forehead, right on the smooth skin just above his eyebrow. you felt his muscles relax under your lips, the tension melting away from his brow. you pulled back just enough to see his expression, a mix of surprised pleasure and growing bewilderment.
"what was that for?" satoru asked, and his voice was a little higher than usual.
"you had a wrinkle right there," you said, your voice taking on a matter-of-fact tone. "from frowning. very bad for your skin. i’m just doing my duty as a concerned partner."
"my skin is flawless, thank you very much," he retorted, a familiar, defensive sass creeping into his voice.
but satoru’s blush was deepening, spreading from his cheeks down to his neck. he was trying to look affronted, but his eyes, still a little wide and glassy, were betraying him. he liked this. he liked the attention, the interruption.
you took a step closer, now standing directly beside his chair. you didn’t give satoru a chance to recover, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to the bridge of his nose, right where his glasses sat. satoru’s skin was so warm.
"you’re getting sunspots," you murmured against satoru’s skin. "or . . . lamp-spots. from all this studying."
"i don’t get sunspots," satoru whispered, his voice cracking just a little.
his hands had come up, hovering uselessly in the air between you, like he wasn't sure whether to push you away or pull you closer. he settled on gently gripping your hips, his thumbs stroking the fabric of your shirt. it was a grounding gesture, his way of trying to maintain some semblance of control.
you hummed, a non-committal sound, and moved to press a kiss to his cheek. the skin there was impossibly soft, and you stayed there for a moment, feeling the warmth of his face, the slight stutter of his breath. he smelled like old books, coffee, and something uniquely, comfortingly satoru.
"you smell like a library," you whispered, your lips brushing against his cheekbone.
"is that a good thing?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
satoru’s long lashes were fluttering, his eyes closing on their own accord.
"the best thing," you confirmed, and then you were kissing his temple, the hinge of his jaw, a spot just below his ear that you knew was a hidden treasure trove of nerve endings.
your sweet boyfriend gasped, a sharp, involuntary sound, and his hips jerked in his chair. his fingers tightened on your hips, a silent plea for mercy you weren’t ready to give.
“y/n . . . " he breathed, a world of meaning in your name. it was a plea, a warning, an invitation.
you pulled back just enough to look at satoru, to take in the magnificent, messy picture he made — his glasses were now truly a catastrophe, hanging off one ear and precariously balanced on the other, the bridge resting on the very tip of his nose. satoru’s hair was even more of a mess, courtesy of his own restless fingers. his face was a symphony of reds and pinks, the blush spreading down his neck and disappearing into the collar of his hoodie. his lips were slightly parted, his breath coming in shallow, rapid pants.
satoru looked utterly, deliciously undone, and all from a few chaste kisses from you.
but the most potent detail was his eyes. that brilliant blue, usually so sharp, so full of clever mischief, was now dark, hazy, and completely, utterly focused on you.
there was a vulnerability there, a raw, unguarded longing that made your heart clench. he looked beautiful. he looked perfect. he looked like he was about to combust if you didn't kiss him properly, and the sight of him like this — this brilliant, beautiful boy, brought to such a tender, wanton state just by you — ignited a primal, possessive heat deep inside you.
"you’re so cute," you said, your voice dropping to a husky whisper. "and so, so fucking hot, you know that? you have no idea what you do to me, sitting here looking like a wet dream in your nerdy glasses."
satoru’s adam’s apple bobbed again.
"not a wet dream," he managed to choke out, a last-ditch effort at his usual bravado. he sounded so small, so out of his depth. so perfectly, wonderfully him. "just . . . a very tired student who really wants to—mmph!"
you had had enough of his adorable, pathetic protests.
you shut him up properly this time, cupping your boyfriend’s face in your hands and leaning in to press your lips to his. it was a soft, gentle kiss at first, a simple meeting of mouths, but the moment your lips touched, it was like a spark to tinder.
satoru made a small, desperate sound against your mouth, his hands relinquishing their grip on your hips to come up and bury themselves in your hair, pulling you closer. the kiss deepened, his lips parting under yours, and you obliged him, your tongue brushing against his lower lip. he tasted like coffee and the faint, sweet residue of the cherry chapstick the young boy always used.
you broke the kiss, but only to tilt satoru’s head back, giving you better access to his neck.
you trailed a line of open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat, feeling his pulse hammering a frantic rhythm against your lips. you found his pulse point, that spot that was always so sensitive, and you sucked, gently, just enough to leave a faint, pink mark. satoru whimpered, a sound of pure pleasure, his hips bucking up against your thigh.
"y/n, please . . . " satoru gasped, his head falling back further, completely surrendering to your onslaught.
you nibbled on his collarbone, which was peeking out from the neckline of his hoodie. you kissed the hollow of satoru’s throat, the slope of his shoulder. you kissed satoru’s eyelids, his eyebrows, the tip of his nose again. you were everywhere, dotting satoru’s face and neck with a constellation of affection. you kissed the spot behind his ear, and he shivered violently. you pressed a kiss to his chin, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, teasing him, drawing it out, savouring every minute tremor and low moan you could coax from him.
satoru’s glasses had finally fallen off completely, landing with a soft clatter on the book he’d been reading.
he didn’t even notice. his world had narrowed to you, to the sensation of your lips on his skin. his hands were tangled in your hair, clutching at you, his fingers flexing and uncurling, a sign of his absolute, hopeless surrender.
satoru’s face was a mess of colour, his skin completely flushed, his lips swollen and slick, his eyes completely dazed. he was a masterpiece of flustered desire, a picture of devastating vulnerability that he only ever showed you. the smart, sharp-tongued genius was completely and utterly putty in your hands. it was a heady feeling, a powerful intoxication; satoru loved you, and you loved him, and in this moment, that was the only truth in the universe.
finally, you couldn't take the teasing anymore.
the sight of him, the taste of his skin, the sound of his desperate little gasps — it was all too much. you needed more. you needed to devour him completely.
you captured satoru’s mouth again, but this time, there was no gentleness; it was a hungry, possessive kiss, your tongue tangling with his, claiming him, tasting him. you poured all your pent-up adoration and want into that kiss, and he met you with equal fervour, his own tongue dancing with yours, his hands tightening in your hair. he kissed you back like you were the air he needed to breathe, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered; and to satoru, you were.
you broke the kiss only when you were both gasping for air, your foreheads resting together, your breath mingling in the small space between you.
satoru’s eyes were closed, his long, white lashes fanned out against his flushed cheeks. a single, soft, shaky moan escaped his lips, the sound of a man completely and utterly conquered.
"your face is sooo red," you whispered, a teasing lilt in your voice, though you were just as breathless as he was. "like a very pretty tomato."
he managed to crack one eye open, peering at you through his lashes. a weak, crooked grin spread across his face.
"you’re very mean," satoru mumbled, his voice hoarse. "and i love you."
you smiled, a genuine, heart-stopping smile that crinkled the corners of your pretty eyes. you leaned in, kissing the red tip of satoru’s nose again.
"i love you too, my nerdy, beautiful boy. now," you said, pulling back and looking pointedly at the scattered papers. "what was that paper on again? quantum . . . something?"
satoru groaned, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder, his body completely slumping against yours in a heap of exhausted, contented defeat.
"i think i forgot," he mumbled into your shirt.
you laughed, a soft, happy sound, and pressed a kiss to the crown of satoru’s messy white hair.
"good," you whispered, wrapping your arms around him. "then take a break. study later."
you felt the smile spread against your shoulder as his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.
yeah . . . this was your favourite version of satoru, and you were never, ever going to get tired of it.
a/n: because @satorupied asked for more silly with satoru and the students im SO SORRY this is so late </3
it all started when satoru had the smart idea to smack a water balloon against suguru’s back while he was outside training the second years in the burning sun.
suguru had gone stiff from the sudden impact and the water soaking through his clothes. and before he turned around, all he could hear was the white-haired man’s giggles from a distance.
and when he did turn around, he found satoru and a bucket of water balloons.
this is what he was doing instead of teaching the first years?
little did suguru know that it was the first-year students who had filled the balloons with water.
“my students and i will beat yours, you know that, right?” suguru said, challenge evident in his tone and a crooked smile on his lips.
“well, hold on, who said i’m staying out of this? no way. so, obviously, we’ll win,” satoru declared smugly.
to which suguru replied, “no cursed energy use allowed. including infinity.”
and that’s how both of their students got dragged into a water balloon fight. not that they were complaining; it was nice to destress, and getting doused in water wasn’t the worst thing considering the hot weather.
“pffft, what kind of throw was that, inumak-- oof.” satoru was halfway through cackling before two water balloons burst square on his chest by panda and maki with no remorse. it wasn’t often that they were able to hit their teacher after all.
suguru only chuckles, eyes closed with delight and pride directed at his students. and it even earned a quiet, amused laugh from megumi who satoru’s head snapped towards with incredulity and betrayal written all over his face.
“you’re on my team. why are you laughing?” satoru almost whines, very much (not) like the 28-year-old he is.
another loud smack! echoes off satoru. his back this time, and he stumbles forward slightly.
“don’t you know that you shouldn’t turn your back towards your opponent, satoru?” suguru says, voice as sweet as honey, like he didn’t just hurl a water balloon at satoru with all his force.
it only escalates from there.
everyone was practically drenched by the time you came outside to see where everyone was - your husband’s classroom, which was supposed to be occupied by him and his students, was empty when you checked.
he’s wearing his tinted, rectangular glasses, hair down and wet, his skin catching in the sunlight, a halo seemingly appearing around his head. and the most radiant thing out there isn’t the sun. it’s his carefree smile, his laugh floating in the breeze and wiggling into your ear canals, hairs dancing in response.
a smile of your own tilts your lips up affectionately as you walk closer to them.
he’s the first to notice you, of course. and somehow his grin brightens, almost blindingly, competing with the sun.
“hey, baby! wanna join our water balloon fight?” he asks immediately, handing you a water-filled balloon. “i’m getting bullied out here.”
you giggle as you approach satoru’s side, noticing how his clothes are soaked through. you take the balloon from him, shaking your head woefully in a dramatic act. “oh, my poor husband. don’t worry, i’ll save you,” you tease.
“my knight in shining armour. ha! watch out, everyone, my wife’s gonna--” four water balloons hit satoru consecutively, cutting him off once again. “see, i told you! i’m getting bullied. they aren’t even targeting my students as much as they’re targeting me!”
a pout begins to form on his pink lips and you pat his back softly, unable to help the small laugh that tumbles out. seeing the strongest rendered helpless because of a few water balloons.
“don’t worry, we’ll get our revenge, my love.”
it’s safe to say the same thing happens in winter when it begins to snow and satoru makes the first snowball.
You're a young college professor teaching English Lit and history, you don't live an insanely exciting life - no, you enjoy spending time at home with a good book and a glass of red. You're prefectly content until a certain student sets his pretty blue eyes on you - senior Satoru Gojo. Obsessed with you, Satoru starts following you everywhere, observing and waiting. He just wants you to realize that he's the only one for you, and he'll do anything to make sure you throw your 'ethics' right out of the window.
pairings - college student! Gojo x professor! reader
warnings - yandere content, Satoru is completely obsessed with reader, bit of an age gap - Satoru is 22, reader is 30, reverse professor trope, power dynamics, push and pull, explicit sexual content. this part- masturbation (m and f), stalking, manipulation, a fk ton of sexual tension, Satoru being a menace to society, fingering, squirting, self loathing, possessive behaviors and dirty talking, hints of breed kink. wc- 10.3k
masterlist - part two>>>
part one
Satoru Gojo loves to sit in the back of class.
He is actually a little far sighted, even with his glasses, but there's a particular reason he sits way back in those stacked benches. One, a perfect view of your tits in that blouse up here. Two, he can palm his aching cock over his jeans and no one could see.
It's for you, anyway.
He's picturing gripping your tits in his big hands, spitting on his tip and fucking his cock between them. You're so cute you'd probably blush, you'd whine out, probably be nervous until he makes you filthy for him.
Little goodie good, he drives by your house at night - you're his favorite teacher, after all. You're always curled up on your couch with your fluffy white cat, reading a book in one of your cozy sweaters. Even on a Friday night, he'll find you there, like you're waiting for him, and he knows you sense it, the connection. The pull that makes him want to desperately beg to slip up your pencil skirt and lap up your cunt.
He's so sure it's pretty, like all of you is. Your eyes briefly meet his while he palms himself, smiling and watching you shift just a bit when you sit on your desk, crossing your legs just so. He barely bites back a whimper, stroking his cock torturously, picturing making you squirt all over your well organized desk.
Bend you over and cum inside you, yank that little perfect bun and pull your hair, smear your pretty pink lipstick across your cheeks. Satoru’s white lashes flutter, when he almost busts those pent up white ropes of cum from the visions of you, when your murmur - 'class is over'.
Satoru Gojo quickly snaps back to reality then, it’s not just the two of you, like it should be.
You don't know you're his just yet.
He gathers his things, cock sticky against his boxers, the amount of times he cums for you every day is ridiculous, but he can’t help himself, he needs you so badly. Ever since the moment he first saw you, he decided to take another English Lit course he didn’t even need. It was well worth going through the same things he knew to hear your voice read those stories.
He’d do any lecture you wanted, fuck he’d recite all of the Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe you wanted against your cunt with his tongue, trace every letter of that nonsense you light up for while he fingered you. Make you recite your favorite poems while he had you gushing across his hand, your eyes all rolled back in your skull.
He hardly can stand being near your scent and not just dropping to his knees for you, and it’s driving him crazier every day that passes. Where once, he could semi function and exist somewhat normally, now it’s all consuming – where are you, what are you doing, who are you with? Things he must know about the only person for him.
He’s the only one for you, after all.
You don’t see him that way fully, he knows that the little difference in age and you being a teacher holds you back, but he doesn’t miss the quickness of your breath, the way your nipples harden under your blouse. Nothing goes unnoticed about you by Satoru Gojo, including the little ticks you have, tapping that pen, uncrossing and crossing your legs, clearing your throat a little when you’re nervous.
Every time he’s near you, he notices more of your body’s reactions, you’re trying to hide it but you can’t fool him, not when the evidence is in the arousal he can damn near smell on you. He knows it would take almost nothing to make you fold, touch those panties you’re getting soaked just being near him, press a kiss against the crook of your neck.
You wear a simple little chain on it every day, the same one, he’d make sure you were littered with diamonds, glittering against perfect skin. Satoru knows one day he’ll have to take over his family business, what better little wife than you? Sweet little english professor, so put together and modest, they’d adore you – and he’d love to fill you with babies.
Surely you’ll be ready for that.
He casually knocks over a pencil, and it clatters to the floor down by your little black pumps, you are so absorbed in writing something down it takes you just a moment to notice. You hear it, feel Gojo near you suddenly, and he smirks when he sees your knees pressing together.
"Teach, you dropped this," your student Satoru Gojo bends down right in front of you where you sit, his breath hot against your thighs.
You don’t acknowledge what being near him does, you absolutely refuse.
He looks up with brilliant blue eyes and a little smile, your heart thuds quicker and quicker in your chest. You haven't gotten used to those eyes and the myriad of shades in the couple of months you've taught this class. You try not to look into them, to focus on your work, but Satoru stared directly at you always.
His eyes flit down your body briefly, you wonder if you're imagining that look, maybe he's just the type that makes too much eye contact, you yourself learned a long time ago that doing so was important. But no matter, he certainly was not more than a student, and anything else were thoughts shoved deep.
You could never be that way.
Being thirty and a professor made you more relatable in ways to the students you taught - mainly Juniors and Seniors in college, but in other ways, it made things harder. Not taking you as seriously, at times you come off a little too laid back and friendly, but never was it more of an issue than with Satoru Gojo putting a hand on your thigh.
He uses it to stand, his fingers long and thick, resting tight above your knee, when he does stand straight with a smile. He has thin wired glasses propped on the bridge of his straight nose, a contradiction to his letterman jacket from football. He did have the top grades in college, and was an easy student to teach, yet his frat was rather notorious for being troublesome.
Satoru Gojo came from the family that practically owned this university, the halls were named ‘Gojo’ so of course he made sure to never get involved in any of that trouble. Despite the little glint in his eyes behind the lenses, and the way his lips quirk up in a knowing little smirk, he was ultimately a perfect student.
A student, that's it.
You were not about to end up on the news as the professor who got with the Gojo family’s son and lost her career. Fuck it was nonsense to think about.
"Thank you, Gojo." He tenses a bit, looking down at you, so tall your face is right in front of his lap damn near, making the images churn in his heated mind.
Imagine tugging your hair out of that little twist, letting it fall across your face before he pulled it, making you cry out while he fucked you throat. He can't help but smirk as he pictures it, leaning a little too close now, hand on the desk while your lips part just a bit, and your eyes dilate behind those glasses.
"You have something…" Satoru's fingers brush against your collarbone, making your breath catch. "Here, got it."
"Oh, um," goosebumps rise where he'd just brushed, you stand quickly, clearing your throat. “Thanks.”
“Hah, was just a hair, don’t worry,” he teases, standing too fucking close to you.
“Right, I'll see you next week, bright and early!” You put on a pretty smile while you start to gather your things.
"Ah, of course you will, you're my favorite professor, you know," Satoru's grin is charming, but there's just something lurking, something that makes you tense up.
Surely, it's your imagination.
"Am I? Not Coach Yaga?" you tease, he picks up a few things for you and helps you slip them in your bag. He usually stays and helps you push in the chairs, or helps you grade papers, so it's not uncommon for you both to be alone, it just feels… different today.
You really need to go get laid, and stop binging love island on your couch with your cat.
"Nah, no way, definitely you," he watches color dance on your cheeks, you can't avoid that no matter how much you try. Satoru can damn near feel the heat between your thighs when you go to move past him, clutching those books to your chest. "Maybe I could get some tutoring this week, if you don’t mind?"
"You should tutor me," he laughs again, moving out of your way so he can watch your ass twitch underneath your modest little pencil skirt, one he can't wait to slip up your hips. "You're good at every subject, top of your class."
"All thanks to you."
"Gojo, you're ridiculous, how much extra credit do you want? You have an A already," you tease, the two of you walking out of your class room, you lock the door, turning and suddenly get too close to him, almost bumping into his chest.
"You could call me Satoru, teach." He draws out those words, you hastily look down for a moment, collecting yourself.
"You should call me Miss," he smiles, murmuring your last name with the Miss title, and it just does too fucking much to you. "If you want, I will be on campus Saturday, but I doubt you want to come here on the weekends. Don't you have your Sigma Alpha whatever parties?"
Satoru chuckles at that, walking through the empty halls side by side, towards the front of the building, holding the door open for you. "I am not that interested in the frat parties, no. Maybe back in Freshman year."
"You're still young, you should have fun on weekends before life really gets you, not coming over to be bored with your teacher."
He can't wait to show you how much fun you could have, tie you up and keep you. He sighs, the sun is reflecting off your pretty face, your hair glimmering just a bit. He can’t wait till he can brush the little tendrils back that have escaped your bun. "You're young too, stop acting like you’re not."
"Mmm, I remember there being no netflix, so I'd say I'm not that young," Satoru laughs again at that, brushing his silvery hair back a bit.
“You’re right, that’s ancient.”
“Hey!” You laugh a bit with him, tension eased while he slips his hands in his pockets, leaning against the building. "All right I'll be here Saturday at noon, feel free to come in and we'll go over some things for the test, but I’m really only well versed in English and History."
"No, that’ll be perfect," he leans too close, far too close, his snowy lashes lowering over cerulean eyes that catch light and reflect into even more pretty shades of blue. "Have a good night, professor. Drive safe."
"Yes, you too," you can finally take a breath when he walks off, slipping into your volvo, trembling just a bit.
You shut your eyes, shaking it off.
You need some wine tonight.
Satoru lets you drive a little before he follows you, he has to make sure his future girl gets home safe. Isn't that what a good future boyfriend does?
Good future boyfriends make sure their pretty professor gets in safely, and make sure to sit in their cars and observe them just a bit. How else was a future boyfriend to know what she likes? Satoru wants to make sure he has you figured out in every way he can, like how the curtains don’t fully hide the silhouette of your body in the evening.
He’d have to fix that, once you’re his, the way people could catch a glimpse of your pretty body, one that ultimately is his. The swell of a breast, or the hint of your hips, and between those curtains he catches little glimpses of what you wear – he already knows your favorite type of panty, he eyes them any time you uncross your legs while you’re doing a lecture.
Normal cotton ones, when he’d deck you out in delicate blue lace, rope your body so he could feast on you without any interruptions or protests. The thought, along with the silhouette of you makes him hard all over again, god but when isn’t Satoru Gojo hard for his professor?
He releases his thick cock, resting his head back against the seat and moaning your name softly – practicing it against his lips while he spits down, a trail of saliva dripping onto his reddened tip. Precum leaks out of the little hole there, beading at the center, he can’t help but imagine pressing it across your slit, sinking into your cunt and stretching you out.
He knows you’re alone every day, he knows by studying your socials that your last exes weren’t anything, you’ve gotta be so needy, but that’s all right. Satoru has been saving up so much for you – he doesn’t even fuck anyone at this point, it would just be disloyal, and he has no issue waiting.
Picturing how you’ll cry out when he fucks you makes him stroke himself, twists of his hand in circles, eyes fluttering shut while he’s hidden with the dark tint of those windows in his sports car. He’s stroking faster, thick veiny cock leaking so much pre, like it’s ready to fill you up, and fuck he would. He’d fuck you so good you couldn’t leave his bed.
You would never leave.
“Professor, f-fuck, so tight,” he murmurs, it’s a devotion to you really, sitting outside your home, cumming just for you. “That’s it, you can take me.”
He’s whimpering ever so slightly, wondering how good it’ll feel to bottom out inside your perfect cunt, hit your cervix till you drool, make sure you remember his shape and no one else’s. Your name keeps dancing on his lips while he strokes faster and faster, more spit mixing with his precum, the sounds wet and filthy echoing in the little car.
“That’s it, you want it all, don’t you sweetheart, hah – I’ll give it to you,” Satoru Gojo gasps out when he pictures your face, mouth wide open, eyes rolled back, and thinks of how he’ll pump your eager cunt so full. White ropes pouring across his big hands, he can’t help but think how you’ll clean him up, eagerly. “Such a good girl for me.”
After cleaning up, he grins at the sight of you on that couch with your glass of wine and your cat through your living room window. You’re nothing if not consistent, like you’re just waiting for him, surely you feel it too – the connection, the aching need to be constantly near you.
He can’t wait until you realize how badly you need him – you’re not there quite yet, but he can wait for you.
*****
It’s Saturday morning, you’re stopping by your favorite coffee shop right next to campus, just to run nearly into Satoru Gojo’s chest. You pause and gasp, bracing your hands on it for a moment, he catches you with an arm around the waist with practiced ease, steadying you. He watches you get flustered, not pulling back as quickly as you should have.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he teases, before he grabs the two cups he ordered off the counter. “Here, I was bringing you this anyway.”
“Oh, you’re so sweet! You sure?” He shrugs and hands money to the girl at the counter, she’s swooning over him but he doesn’t seem to pay much attention.
You suppose he just gets that constantly, and why wouldn’t he? If he wasn’t your student, and you just ran into him – you’re sure you’d be too shy and nervous to even talk to him at first. Because you are his professor, it opens up a bit to see him in a different way, not as the gorgeous, tall man he is but as someone intellectually challenging and enjoyable.
You imagine he likely doesn’t have people realize just how smart he is, which is a shame. As the Gojo family practically bought their way into the school, people would assume Satoru didn’t earn his way, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. No one has test scores like him.
“You don’t have on your glasses today,” he murmurs then, walking outside where it’s starting to patter rain lightly. “Why not?”
“I got contacts recently, I thought I’d see how I like them… you don’t have yours on either.”
“I really just need them to read,” it’s too easy to talk to him, it’s too easy to walk next to him. The comfortable yet completely nervous way you feel, heart hammering when he tugs you close. “Careful.”
You realize you almost stepped right into a huge crack in the sidewalk. “Oh god, thanks, I’m clumsy.”
“I noticed that,” he notices everything. The scent you’re wearing today is a different one, a little more floral, it fills his senses while his hand reluctantly drops, and he eyes the sky. “Did you walk from campus?”
“I did, shit…” he knows you did, Satoru made sure to fuck with your car before he got here, while you were still in your class.
“Come with me then,” you hesitate, then slip into his sports car, while the rain starts falling a little more, parts of the sky still blue as his eyes, the others darkening slightly. You hold onto your coffee cup carefully, studying the rim while he makes the quick trip. “You’re quiet.”
“Am I?” He nods a bit, you peer over to find him looking at you in a way he should not. “I’m a little tired.”
“Didn’t sleep well last night?” he turns the steering wheel, parking right across from your car.
“I guess I didn’t, but this coffee will help. Mnh, and it’s yummy,” you take a sip, a little foam on your lips. He leans forward and runs a thumb across them, making you jerk back. “Gojo…”
“Sorry, foam,” he smiles and brings the frothy concoction to his own lips, ruining your fucking brain. No twenty two year old man should be doing that, actually, no one should. Especially Gojo. “Yummy.”
Fuck.
Why are you ovulating this week!?
Focus – studying.
“Let’s run in!” You hop out of the car and dart before he can stop you, scent lingering in the air of his car, he can’t stop his soft little whine at having been that close to you.
He runs after in just a moment, umbrella above him, he shakes it out. “You don’t use one, do you?”
“That would be smart, I’m afraid I always leave mine at home,” you’re a little breathless, blouse slightly damp from the water – white and thin. He can see the delicate design of your bra that’s cupping your tits, a little trail of rain dancing across your chest. “You ready?”
“I’m ready.”
You lead him up to your class, the campus is mostly empty save for a few weekend classes, and your building doesn’t have very many. Maybe five students pass that all say your name, you smile at them all, making light conversation, making Satoru irritated, fist clenching the hook of his umbrella.
“Oh, thanks, I’m so glad!” You say to one of the boys there, who makes eyes at you.
Satoru wants to gouge them the fuck out.
Even the girl there makes eyes, he’s used to it, you’re the pretty new professor, but they all need to stop looking at you, girl or not. Satoru barely composes himself enough to feign the ease he needs to, smiling at you when you open your classroom door, flicking on the lights.
Soon you all are going over every question, open text book as you sit side by side with each other. Of course Satoru nails every question, you expected no less really, you’re not sure why he’d want to study more aside from high expectations. You know his family is pretty ridiculous with them.
It’s been almost an hour, when he’s just a little more relaxed, and his fingers trace patterns along the delicate skin of the back of your hand that rests on the desk when you’re reciting something. Your heart races, his casual touch seemingly natural, as if he wasn't intentionally fucking with your brain. Making you think the most inappropriate things.
“Bet I can guess your favorite Poe quote,” he murmurs, looking at you with a smirk that makes your tummy flip. You pull back your hand, pressing it between your thighs along with your other. “Something wrong, teach?”
“No, you think you can guess it huh?” You plaster on a smile. “Go for it.”
Satoru turns a little, resting his chin on his fist, elbow on the desk, he takes so much space with his long limbs, like he's taking your desk over. His knee brushes your thigh, they press together, practically trembling when he licks his lower lip and smirks just a bit.
“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.” You falter, he spits the words that have been your favorite since middle school out with ease.
Surely you've read that to them, but to know it's your favorite?
“What,” he chuckles and sits up, leaning back in the chair. “Did I get it wrong?”
“No, it is my favorite… but how could…” your eyes lock with unspoken questions, Satoru leans far too close, cupping your chin. “How could you know?”
“I told you I'm pretty observant, I saw how your eyes lit up as you read it, how your lips moved…” Worse than desire would be feelings, of being seen for the first time, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.
Fuck.
You quickly stand, ignoring the need pulsing hot through your body, images that should not be there. Imagine ending your career, you have to keep playing that in your mind, never being able to teach because you couldn't keep it together.
“I um… I have to go,” you manage, when he stands so damn tall over you, grabbing some of his books and slipping them in his bag. “We can study more later, but you're already so good at it all.”
“You gotta go, have any plans?”
You better not.
He almost had you - kissable lips just begging for his mouth. That heat spent close, your entire body is warm as he looks down at you, smiling with ease and watching you just fall apart.
It was really all according to his plan, to make you needy, weak and wanting, to let your control slip. God how do you unleash when you drop this goody good act, and let your every desire come forth? When your back will arch as you ride his cock, begging for his cum.
You're flustered, not meeting his eyes.
“No plans, I'm kind of… a homebody.”
“Are you?” You nod shyly, and he is feigning surprise like he doesn't know every night you're at home. “I'm surprised, so many people love you.”
“I guess my social battery taps out after work,” you clear your throat, tossing both empty coffee cups in the trash. “Thank you again for that. You know, that is what I always order.”
“Really,” of course he knows your order. What sort of man would he be if he didn't learn everything about the woman he loves?
“It is!”
“Good guess then.”
“Very,” you lead him out, locking the doors behind you both. It's pattering again outside, he's getting his umbrella out. “I'll see you in class Monday?”
Before he can answer you've darted over to your car with a quick wave, he smiles as he pops the umbrella up, knowing you're not going anywhere. But you try, and it's pretty cute, as the rain starts drizzling, you're shivering a bit, opening your hood.
He notices you use some stick to hold it up, frowning at the entire state of your car. He'll make sure you never have to drive again, you can ride in the back of a limo, or next to him in one of his cars. This is purely unacceptable.
“Need help?” You gasp and turn, the rain pattering the umbrella, but he already can see the dampness of your white blouse, your glaringly apparent nipples. “Why are you using a branch to hold this up?”
“The thing broke,” you mumble, sighing then. “It may be the starter going out, sometimes I have to drop the thing into neutral to start it.”
“How long has that been going on?” Satoru hands you the umbrella to hold, you watch him bend over and peer at your car. In a polo, sweater and khakis, he looks too country club to ever do that, yet he has no problem.
“Like six months?”
Satoru peers at you and raises a brow. “You just let it… stay that way?”
“I mean it’s fine! Sometimes the battery gets corroded too, but I pour coke on it.”
“What now?”
“It works!” He sighs then, shaking his head at you.
“I'll try something but if not you'll have to tow it to a shop.”
“Shit, okay…”
“Go sit in the seat and start it when I tell you.”
You do quickly, but it's of no use, the car just won't switch over. You sigh, covering your face when he comes over, polo drizzled with water droplets, some have clung to his silky white locks. His umbrella shields you both from the now pouring rain, so loud he almost has to shout.
“You should let me take you home, I can get your car fixed tomorrow and bring you.”
“No. That's too much! I can call a tow and…” you sigh, realizing your phone has no bars. “Shit, it must be a bad storm…”
“Come on, before we get soaked,” he holds out his hand, you hesitate, even as the rain starts pounding, and the lightning goes off in the sky. It illuminates his tall, imposing frame, those blue eyes darkening. “You'll get sick in that car waiting, especially with no heat.”
“All right,” you take his hand carefully, sighing a bit. He rushes you over to his sports car, opening the door for you. “Thanks, Gojo.”
He slides in beside you then, the windshield wipers quickly turning on and flicking water side to side, the slow hum of his engine softly purring underneath you. You’re shivering a bit from the chill of the rain that’s soaked into your skin, his own hair flicking little clear droplets when he runs a hand through it.
That’s when he looks at you.
You were in his car earlier, but somehow the rain makes it even more intimate, trapping the two of you together, his heated gaze drifting across your body ever so slowly. There is no smirk or little smile, he’s quiet then – his pretty lips parted – you shouldn’t think like that!?
‘Pretty lips’ isn’t what your brain should concoct, especially when his snowy lashes lower and you realize exactly where he’s looking. You gasp a bit when you look down, seeing the thin white material cloying to your figure, showing the lacy little bra you’d bought yourself last week, the first time you’ve worn it.
“Oh god I’m sorry…” You murmur, covering your chest with crossed arms and turning away.
“For what?”
“For…” You curse internally, still shivering. “I’m so cold.”
“Let me turn on the heat,” he leans over, arm brushing against yours, turning it on quickly. “I have a couple shirts if you wanna put one on.”
“No!?”
He chuckles then, raising a brow at you. “No? Wanna get sick?”
“Yes… no… I can’t just get dressed!?” You feel so nervous, as if he’s the experienced thirty year old, and you’re the hopeless twenty two year old obsessed with her teacher.
Something about him makes you feel too much.
“All right then,” he continues easily, starting to drive, his veiny forearm far too pronounced with that dusting of snowy hair dancing across it. You swallow, arms falling a bit, now fiddling with your books, just a little damp from the rain. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just embarrassing you saw…” You can’t even finish the words, his hand slips to your bare thigh, the contact heating your core up, you eye it carefully, knowing you should move it, yet you don’t.
It feels good on your skin.
Satoru can feel your thigh tense under his touch, see the goosebumps rise on your skin, it’s quiet save from the pulse racing in his ears, and your little sound from the back of your throat. He knows if he slips his hand up just a bit that you’ll let him slide your panties to the side, you’ll let him thrust his fingers deep.
He can’t stop his visions of your throat stretched around his cock, he’d chuckle while you’re just so hoarse in the voice at your lectures – maybe the class would think you had a cold, but he’d know that it was all from him. You’re not there yet, but he knows how desperate you will be for that soon, begging to swallow all his cum like the good little professor you are.
“Embarrased about what?” He asks softly, thumb running in circles, you all come to a red light, barely visible in the storming gray view.
“That you saw me like that.”
“Saw your pretty tits, those nipples? That lacy little bra you’re wearing?” You gasp at that, until now it’s been Satoru teasing you, he’s not fully said even a hint of what he wants yet. “Hmm, don’t be.”
“You… just said… I…” You scowl at him now, earning his snarky little chuckle. “You can’t say that!”
“I can’t say they look pretty?”
“No!” His throaty, full laugh undoes your resolve, while you cross your arms again. “Surely, I misheard you.”
“No, you didn’t, but I can say it again if you want, does it get you excited, professor?” His fingers slip higher, the car starting to drive again, you grip his wrist to stop its trek, but still don’t let it go. “From what I see, at least, you can show me them fully if you want my expert opinion.”
“You’re ridiculous,” you realize you don’t even know where Satoru is currently taking you, his grip tightens under your hold as he turns smoothly with one hand on the steering wheel. “How do you even know where to take me?”
He pauses just a moment, you’re nothing if not smart, but a couple brushes of his thumb on your inner thigh changes that, your lips parted as if they’re waiting for something to suck. He’d give it to you soon, what you so desperately want without admitting it, what he knows you need.
He can’t say he comes to your house every day, can he?
“You mentioned your neighborhood in class, so I figured I’d head in that direction, but you’ll have to let me know exactly where it is.”
You wrack your brain for a moment, perhaps you did share that. “Oh… of course, I think I remember. Do you have friends there?”
“I do have a couple.”
“Girlfriends?”
He smirks over at you. “No.”
“Why not? Look at you - I mean!?”
He’s laughing again, leaning over a bit when he turns the car to the left, like he knows exactly where to go without thinking. “Hmm, look at me, do you?”
“Of course not, it’s just I see… the girls are always giving you so much attention. Even at the coffee shop. I figured you had a little harem.”
“A harem?” He laughs again. “No, I’m afraid I’m a one woman type of guy, but I’m not currently interested in any of the students there.”
“Ah. Well, you’re young, all the time to find someone,” your eyes shut when his fingers start dancing across the little lace garters you put on.
What a day to try to feel sexy, stuck in a car with off limits Satoru Gojo while you’re ovulating. You finally had a date tonight, but your car has made that one have to get cancelled. So now your mind is rushing, his touch feels too good, his scent is too intoxicating, some cologne that’s likely a hundred dollar a spray. Even his car smells too good, it’s too clean, too put together – like him.
When you’re falling apart.
Focus, you’re almost home.
“Do you date anyone?” He asks softly, your lips part in protest, then he raises a brow. “You asked me.”
“Right… um no, I broke up with someone I’d been with for a year a few months ago. I was going on a date tonight but…”
“The car.”
“Yeah. Um but I don’t know him, my friends are all determined to hook me up with him.”
Satoru wouldn’t let you hang out with these ‘friends’.
His jaw tenses at the thought of you with someone, even he did not know about that. Imagine, seeing the woman that’s his in the arms of some loser? Someone who wouldn’t deserve you – only Satoru deserves to have any part of you, your body, your laugh, your pretty eyes looking up at him.
Soon enough it will all be him.
He looks down at you when you're at a red light, the soft red casting a glow on his face, shadowing it in that color. You swallow nervously when he is leaning close – he’s too close, hand moving higher, until he feels your heat, that trickle of slick the telltale sign how ready you are.
He wonders if the change of lingerie style is purely for ‘your date’, but no one would see these but him. He moans softly as he pictures it, seeing your body fully. You look at him then, eyes almost black with how blown out your pupils are. “Y-you shouldn't do that.”
“No?” You nod quickly, when the light goes green, he turns his gaze to the road, the tension so palpable you can hardly breathe. “Why not?’
“Why not, well for one, I’m older than you,” he laughs at that. “I am, you’re young.”
“You’re barely older than me.”
“Eight years.”
“You look twenty two,” you heat up, he notices, eyeing you from the corner of his gaze, watching your flushed cheeks. “I don’t want someone my age, unless it was you I guess.”
“You should, and should stop that,” you shove his hand down, but it slips right back up, this time higher. You feel dizzy from how wet and needy you are, the heat blasting and giving you this fuzzy, heady feeling. “Fine, we aren’t that different in age, but I’m your teacher.”
“My favorite teacher,” he murmurs softly. “Who’s soaking wet.”
“Gojo!”
“You want me to touch you, to tell you how pretty you are.”
“I don’t,” you bite back a cry when his thumb hits the inner part of your thigh, right where your cunt is, so close you can’t take it, eyelashes fluttering.
“You don’t want it, huh?”
“I can’t,” you finish softly, the car is too small, you’re too close, it’s suffocating his presence, filling your every sense. “You can’t.”
“Why can’t I?”
“You just can’t,” his fingers tighten a bit, he feels you press your thighs together, hears your little whine, his thumb finally brushing the soaked material of your panties.
“Why don’t you take my hand off, if you don’t want it?” You can’t come up with a good fucking reason, other than you’re thinking with your cunt, your ovaries, your muddled feelings rather than your damn brain.
This isn’t you.
You’re cautious, you’re careful, you’re the girl who has always played by the rules. Never got in trouble her entire life, a good girl for all intents and purposes, one who even in relationships has been picky, careful. You can count the men you’ve been with in your thirty years alive with one hand, and they were all established relationships, built over time.
You didn’t just fuck in cars with your damn students.
“You’re not acting appropriately, Gojo,” he grins, his teeth white and glinting, touch lifting so that his fingers get sticky with you. “You’re forgetting I’m your teacher, clearly, a lapse of judgement.”
“Oh, I’m not forgetting you’re my teacher at all,” you take his hand off finally, that took far too long because you want him to.
Fuck.
That self loathing fills your damn brain, surely you can act correctly, but every sound makes your tummy flip. It’s been too long, cunt just drooling against the cotton on the gusset of your panties. Yeah, it’s been forever, and yeah, your sex life was not something to write home about – but there’s not an excuse.
Who would you be if you let your twenty-two year old student just finger you? What would that make you?
“Where exactly is your house, we’re close I think.”
“Oh,” you blink and try to focus, it’s hard to see still with the way that rain is pounding. “Turn right here.”
Satoru lets you guide him, acting like he has no clue that he’s not constantly staring at you for weeks now, parking right in front of your little house – it’s cute and quaint, but just wait till he gets back to his mansion. He’ll make sure you have a staff that’ll take care of everything for you, and if you ever want to go work, he’ll give you so many kids to occupy your time.
You have such a nurturing instinct, really, it’s more than the fact that he wants to fill you with cum, fuck it back into you, and then put more inside. More than he wants to see how flexible you can be, what you look like folded in a mating press under him – and more than the Gojo family line.
It’s because you’d be so happy.
Truly, it’s all for you.
“Here we are,” you manage a shaky smile, gathering up your things hastily, hands trembling. He takes one carefully, undoing your seat belt, fingers brushing your skin. “You should wait a few minutes, let the rain ease up, hmm?”
Satoru murmurs your first name then, ever so softly, a hand cupping your cheek and feeling the heat seep through. “You shouldn’t call me that.”
“No? Aren’t we pretty close though, sweetheart?” You bite down on your lip, he gently tugs it out of the grip of your teeth. “Can I not call you that either?”
You shake your head, not trusting any words at this point, whose to say you don’t beg him to fuck you then and there? His eyes slip down like a caress, across the blouse that still shows too much. The rain is pounding that windshield, bouncing off the glass, enshrouding you two in darkness, the sound of the hard drops hitting mixing with distant thunder.
It feels like you’re completely secluded, and you suppose you are, like this car doesn’t exist in typical space of time, no it’s something inexplicable. His hand on your cheek is cool and firm, big hands with long fingers that just ruin your mind more, picturing how they feel, then cursing yourself for doing so. Satoru clicks those wipers off, letting you both further descend into this car all alone, cut off from everything.
“Question professor, if I may?” He asks, taking your hand and pressing a little brush of his lips on the back of it. All you can do is nod, unable to speak anymore, feeling drawn more and more with every breath you take. “If you met me somewhere, say some book fair you went to, would you kiss me then? If we were just two people, and I wasn’t your student?”
You can’t answer, it’s so glaringly obvious, all you can bring yourself to do is pull back from his grip, looking away. “Don’t ask me that.”
“Sweetheart,” he turns your chin, gripping it tightly, and your eyes still won’t meet his. Satoru runs a hand to the back of your hair, gripping it at the nape, earning your little gasp. “Need you to focus. Can you do that?”
He shouldn’t talk like that, look like that.
“I need to go.”
“Ah-ah, focus,” he forces you to meet his gaze, taking over your body with how big he is everywhere. “Answer me, pretty professor.”
“So what if I would, it changes nothing.”
“Answer, then.”
You scoff, blinking rapidly, his hand slips out of your hair, trailing down your spine. “You shouldn’t want me, you’re-”
“Excuse me?” He glares now, arm wrapping your waist, tugging you against his hard body. Your nipples press out against his chest, it feels far too good. “The fuck you say?”
“I’m older, and… I’m boring, all right? You should want someone younger, exciting, not some teacher who just… stop looking at me like that, Gojo.”
“Like what? Like you’re the prettiest fucking woman I’ve seen?”
“No,” you shake your head quickly, tears pricking your eyes, some mix of desire and frustration. “It’s not true.”
“You know what I’d do, if I got you to myself?”
You just look down, at his jaw, his lips. “What?”
“Fuck every insecurity out of that head, if one round didn’t work, well I’d eat your pretty pussy till you’re ready for another,” you gasp, eyes darting up, his own are so bright they’re impossible to focus on, shaking in his hold. “Then if you had any left, I suppose I’d fuck you till you passed out, cock drunk and fucked out.”
“Satoru Gojo!”
“Mmm, yes… call me that,” his lips are just a breath from yours, you taste sweet mocha from earlier, breasts pressing together even more with his chest. “I like when you use my full name, professor.”
“You can’t know that it’s all pretty or-”
“I’m sure every part of you is,” he slips that skirt up your thighs, ever so slowly, material brushing your skin, you should stop him, but you can’t, especially when long fingers find you over your panties. “Fuck, you’re soaked, I haven’t even touched you yet. Tsk, are you so easy? If I say how pretty you are, you’ll drown me with your cunt?”
“You’re ridiculous,” your thighs spread, making his smirk widen, there’s no willpower, like the heat and Satoru have sapped it. “You can’t say it.”
“But you love to hear it,” you shake your head. “I can tell you every part of you that’s pretty while I worship your body.”
“While you… Gojo,” you push him back gently, but he doesn’t budge, hands gripping the material of his shirt then. Your breaths come in quick pants, lost in the feeling of his fingertips on your slit. “Even if I want it, we can’t.”
“Why can’t we?”
“Ethics- ah!”
“Mmm,” he’s grinning now, pressing that material closer and snugger against your eager cunt. “Ethics makes you wetter, huh?”
You don’t answer, the squelching wetness filling the car speaks enough, you just spread your thighs a little more, for his fingers to slip under your waist band and find your slick heat. That’s when you don’t hold back the little moan, sweet and filling his ears, earning his once he finally gets to touch you, slipping down till he’s right against your hole.
“Gojo…”
“Satoru,” his name comes out breathy. He presses his fingertip inside you teasingly, feeling how tight you clench it, groaning softly, his head resting on yours. “You’re so tight.”
“We can’t, you can’t - ah!” He slips a finger in a little further, leaning over you, your back pressed in that seat.
“Feel her grippin’ me,” he huffs in wonder, he’s never felt anything like you. He’s been with women before you, many back then – but once he saw you it was over, he knew he needed you, and you feel this good? “Could you even take my cock? Cunt is so fuckin’ small.”
“You’re… crazy y’know that, you – mnh!” He’s got it fully in, just that your cunt struggles to take, his fingers longer and thicker than the men you’ve been with. You feel so full and needy, his plump lips trailing across your jaw.
“Let me make you feel good, hmm?” He asks, the windows fogging with your breaths and the heat surrounding you, sucking your breath away while he curls that finger meanly in your walls.
“You can’t,” you’re rocking your hips, head tilting to allow him more access, while he pictures stretching your tiny little hole out, he’s so thick he bets he’ll barely get it in, but he’ll make it fit. “Ah!”
“You work so hard, don’t you sweetheart? You’re always so…” he curls that finger up again, tongue lapping at your skin, the flavor even sweeter than he could ever imagine. “So stressed, so tired, let me take care of you.”
“Gojo-”
“Satoru, when you cum f’me, huh?” You’re blinking rapidly then, dizzy and falling into the madness that’s your batshit crazy student with stupid long fingers, pulling one out and then teasing another. “Can you even take two, your cunt is so pathetic, have you never been stretched out?”
His free hand yanks down your top, still clinging to your skin, bending down to lap at your nipple over the lace, trails of saliva seeping in. Your back arches at the sensation, his fingers barely able to penetrate with just how thick they are. He pulls more of your slick out, eliciting a pornographic sound you’ve never fucking made, gushing down him.
“Let’s see how pretty they are,” he whispers, looking up at you with glossed lips and fucked out eyes already, like he’s just as fucked as you. He slips your nipple out, moaning softly when the bud tightens, his mouth sucking it in. Your hands grip his hair, not pushing him off - no you’re tugging him in.
“This is c-crazy, we can’t,” your words don’t meet your actions, not when his two long fingers press this spot you haven’t even felt, making you see stars. “Oh my fuck.”
“Teach, you have a bad mouth,” he pouts, looking up from where he’s left a round, glossy mark on your tit that’ll bruise. Strings of spit dissolve from where he’d hungrily been sucking on your tit, he moans and gently smacks it, smirking when you jump a bit. “Your tits are as pretty as I could have imagined.”
He’s… sweet, oddly?
“They’ll look so pretty with my cum drippin’ on ‘em.”
Never mind.
“Satoru!” You glare, but that image burns in your fucking brain with his wicked grin, moving his fingers deeper now, until you swear they hit your cervix. “So deep…”
“You can take it, just for me though, okay?” You shake your head, but he’s lost in you, sucking your other nipple, starting to pump into your cunt. “She was waiting, just wanted my touch.”
You’ve never felt whatever the fuck he’s doing to you, cunt squelching and messy, louder with every thrust, so much pressure in your tummy you almost can’t take it. His mouth trails up your skin, across your neck, lapping it up while his fingers wreck your senses. That arousal drips down his hand, making every stroke easier.
Gojo can feel how good you'll squeeze his cock soon, how those gummy walls will just grip him, your cries making him so hard it hurts. He almost cums just touching you, just looking at your pretty face, lost and hidden in the torrential downpour surrounding you both. Your eyes are lidded, when you’re close – and fuck, he can feel how close you are.
“You’re so loud, professor,” he taunts, your brows drawing together while your lashes flutter. “Your cunt, it’s so needy, so desperate f’me, huh?”
You shake your head, he chuckles even while he’s pulsing and leaking pre against those boxers, dying to drag you right down his length. You try to glare, it’s honestly adorable, the lightning flashing and illuminating the car, showing the expanse of smooth skin and your pretty breasts.
You cling to his forearm, whining out. “It’s too much.”
“No, it’s not, you can do it,” you shake your head, feeling his muscles tense with every movement.
He moves that middle and ring finger up and down faster and faster, exhaling against your lips as he watches you. “S’too much pressure, mnh!”
The lightning flashes and hits his pretty face, he looks psychotic in that moment, beautiful and insane, he grabs the back of your neck, tongue lapping a filthy trail up to your ear. “Oh, you’ve never really cum before, have you?”
“I h-have! You’re doing too much and – can’t take it, ngh!” Satoru’s soft laugh tickles your neck before he sinks his teeth, sharp and painful.
“You’ve never really cum before, but don’t worry, I can teach you, hmm?” He pulls back, seeing you sniffling, tears in your pretty eyes, barely able to cling to his shoulders, thigh propped right up on that dash so he can get deeper. “Fuck you’re so pretty like this.”
That’s when whatever was holding you back the slightest snaps.
You should regret your next actions, dragging him down for a kiss, he’s kissed your tits and neck but not your mouth, and you fucking need it. Need his desperate whimpers against your lips, his tongue delving into your mouth and swirling. Satoru loses it right with you, whatever control he kept.
He presses you back against that leather seat, storm rattling the little car as it pounds heavier, his knee propped on the seat, tongue hungry and desperate. You’ve never felt anything like kissing him, like his messy, sticky fingers coated in your creamy essence, and you feel that knot in your tummy about to release.
“Cum,” he orders softly, kissing you again, biting at your lower lip. “Cum pretty professor, lemme feel you.”
Satoru exhales and eases back, watching the woman he’s dreamt of fall apart under his touch, cunt just gripping him like a vise, watching you begin to shatter under him, lit up just in moments as lighting dances across the street. Your moans are just a bit deafened, but your face, fuck he couldn’t have pictured that.
“Waited so long f’you,” he whispers it so soft you don’t hear, you’re too lost in the pleasure he’s eliciting, so much you panic as you begin to pulse, tightening. “Ah- ah, let go, come on sweetheart, you can make me messy yeah?”
“Satoru,” he moans at that, you crying out his name as you begin squirting all over his fingers, nails digging into his shoulders, he hisses at the pain, looking down at where the clear streams of liquid pour. “Oh my god… I… that’s…”
“Fuck,” he stares in wonder for a moment, before smiling just a bit. “Look at you, huh? You listened to me, now I need you to cum one more time.”
“C-can’t - mnh!” Satoru eases his fingers out with a pop, rubbing your poor neglected clit, so sensitive as you clench around nothing.
“You can, look you did so perfect for me, look at you,” he cups your face as his eyes turn black, just a ring of blue left, before gripping under your chin. “One more time, be a good girl, would you?”
Good girl.
His audacity knows no bounds, but you’re embarrassingly quick to cum again, he moans and pulls back, sucking you off him then, eyes fluttering shut. You gasp at the action, thighs shaking violently, heart racing when he smiles just a bit.
“Open.”
“Open!?”
“Listen for me, would you?” You do it, you don’t know why, maybe you’re too fucked out, but you open wide for Satoru Gojo – your fucking student – to spit in your open mouth. You gasp, but he grips your face tightly, shutting your jaw close. “Swallow it.”
You do that, earning his filthy little moan, making the sweetness of your cunt dance across both of your mouths. Tears spill down your eyes at the release, at what he’d just done to you, which you can hardly comprehend. No amount of that rose vibrator and smut was doing anything like this psychotic student grinning down at you.
“Did I make you feel so good, hmm pretty?” You just nod in a jerky motion, still tasting your own arousal and his spit in your mouth. “You listened so well, and you told me what you felt, you’re just such a good little professor, aren’t you?”
He kisses you again, stroking your hair almost gently. “Satoru…”
“Shh, don’t worry,” he adjusts your panties, your blouse, your skirt so sweetly, like he hadn’t just taunted you, spit in your mouth, fingered you till you were embarrassingly gushing all over. “I’ll bring you to school, and fix that car, yeah?”
You blink rapidly, the rain slowly dying off to a patter, as it all fucking syncs in of what you just did. “We can’t do this,” you hastily try to button your blouse, but he moves your hands away. “We can’t.”
“You need me to help, don’t you? Your fingers are too shaky,” he adores that look on your face, the fear and the tears, you’re realizing you’re all his, and he can’t help but enjoy this moment, smiling with bright blue eyes. “There.”
“Can’t again,” he ignores that, just being so bright, chuckling a bit as he kisses your lips. “Satoru.”
“I love when you call me that,” he murmurs your name, just to fuck you up further, with a lidded gaze. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”
He watches you rush out with a dopey grin on his face – he’d masturbate, but he already came when he sucked your juices off, so he instead just cleans up quickly, sighing. He makes sure you get in safe, of course, that’s part of being your everything – but he knows that he’ll have to act unaffected.
You’re not seeing the vision just yet.
*****
It’s been two weeks.
Two weeks since Satoru casually showed up with your favorite coffee, grinning big at you. He’d already had your car fixed, thoughtful and kind, just being friendly like he was before – and nothing else. You suppose you should be thankful he’s listened to you, that he knows that can’t happen again, or it’ll lead to more, and the consequences for you would be heavy.
He’d even joked about it on the way back to campus – ‘So worried I’ll tell everyone our little secret, huh? Nah, no way.’
He’d been completely normal since, aside from little touches, little brushes against your skin in the hallway, being everywhere and anywhere at the same fucking time. Every time you turned, Satoru was there for you to bump into, or he was around to look at you, and you could feel that gaze like a physical touch.
You should be glad he didn’t say anything, that it’s over, that you came sure but nothing you can’t get back from. You’re not having some affair with your student, the namesake of the fucking University. Having to meet his stuck up, distant parents last week was hell enough.
You couldn’t stand them, truth be told.
They’re neglectful, they’re terrible, they don’t seem to give a fuck about Satoru aside from his name, his accomplishments, and worse than desire was the affection you felt when his jaw tensed during that conversation. The way you could see he so clearly felt ignored by the people who should love him.
You can’t feel this.
Yet with every mere brush of his fingers, you’re losing your mind, losing all the caution – fucking throwing it to the wind all for a moment like that again. You touch yourself at night, not to the thought of him, but then he seeps into your mind, you can’t get him out, fingering your hole desperately with no results.
It’s like only he can make you feel that way.
Class is over, and everyone’s saying good bye to you, Satoru lingers like he always does – always sits in the back, observing you with a knowing smirk. You sit there, waiting for him to descend, and you hate yourself for what you do next… or, you should hate yourself.
Satoru’s getting up to walk by, the rest of the class is filing right out, he gives you that little smile, like he wasn’t the man spitting in your mouth two weeks ago, having you squirt for the first time in your life. Like he wasn’t the one biting your lip, tugging at your hair, kissing down your breast – no, it’s as if everything is perfectly normal.
Isn’t that what you asked him to do? To forget it ever happened, because it damn sure cannot happen? Yet you casually knock your pen off with a little flick of your hand, letting it clatter down to the floor in a click that echoes in the room. The door is shut with a resounding, heavy sound, when Satoru pauses, looking down at your bare legs, setting his bag down on your desk.
“You dropped your pen, Professor,” he murmurs, leaning down and kneeling on the floor, his breath right against your inner thigh. His eyelashes lower, when his hands slip up them torturously slowly. You know it’s insane, wrong, but you can’t hold back a soft whine at how good it feels. “Something wrong, sweetheart?”
“N-no, nothing’s wrong,” Satoru spreads your thighs, inhaling you practically, seeing you’re wearing lacy panties today, a first. They’re darkening as his head dips, spinning you in the chair ever so slightly. “You shouldn’t call me that, Satoru.”
“You shouldn’t be this soaked from your student,” you bite down on your lip, he slips up that dress and sighs at the sight. “I can smell how turned on you are.”
“Get my pen, Satoru,” you whisper, thighs trembling when he chuckles a bit, face damn near right against your cunt, but not touching, nose a centimeter away.
“Right, your pen…” he picks it up, when your hand entangles in his white locks, his lips get glossy when he licks them. He drifts the pen up, the cool metal tip slipping up your skin. “Professor, you’ve got something there.”
“Do I?” You shouldn’t fucking do it, you know better, when the pen slips your panties aside for the briefest of moments. “Ah!”
Satoru wants to devour that pretty, slick cunt he didn’t get to see properly before, he knows you want it, sliding that pen down those panties, and watching slick drool out of your little hole. His cock is aching to be inside you, but you’re not quite desperate enough, not quite needy enough yet. You still seem to think you have the upper hand, and though he’s desperate, he also is patient.
He can wait until you realize you need him.
For much more than making you cum, you’ll need him for everything in time, to take care of you, to hold you, to keep you locked up in his home – well, it’ll belong to both of you. Kids, in time, the Gojo family line being remade from the pretty cunt that’s begging for his touch, his mouth, his cock.
“Satoru…” you’re so pretty like this, your brows together, your cheeks flushed, he just pulls the pen back and adjusts your panties with his fingers, just enough to get them coated in your arousal.
“Here you go, teach,” he smiles easily, standing and leaving you on edge, slipping your dress back down. “You all right?”
“Y-yes,” you’re hastily standing, taking several breaths, cursing yourself internally for fucking acting that way. “I’m… um, sorry I dropped that.”
“No worries,” he brushes your hair back behind your ear, leaning low over you, so tall and imposing, yet his touch is incredibly soft. His thumb brushes along your jawline delicately. “I’ll see you in history tomorrow.”
“You’re… taking history too?” You ask, voice a breathy squeak damn near. Seeing him once a week with those vivid memories was torture enough, but twice a week!?
“I sure am, I can’t wait to…” he leans down and his lips brush against your ear, making you tremble, sending shivers down your spine. “Learn lessons from you. You’re just my favorite, you know?”
You can’t talk, when he pulls back to smirk at you, when you realize you damn near were begging for your college student to eat you out. Pathetic, the most unethical thing in the world, and he’s acting nonchalant, like nothing is even bothering him. You’re as embarrassed as you are soaking wet, as self loathing as you’re willing to say fuck everything and give in.
You can’t do it.
“I’ll look forward to seeing you, Gojo.” He frowns a bit at the use of his last name, as you try to gather your wits. “Class is at ten.”
“I’ll be there, teach.” You both walk out of those heavy doors, eyeing each other for just a moment. His gaze slips across your ass when you turn, darting up to the delicate curves and lines of your body.
He’ll give you what you need soon, but not until he’s much more than relief, or something to cum to.
He needs to be your everything, and he’ll make sure it happens.
After all, isn’t that what good future husbands do?
Kofi link if you wanna buy me a glass of wine - it motivates the smut!🍷
SUMMARY ✂️ in which roommate!nobara's hot older sister moves in with you. ieri shoko's brilliant, incredibly helpful and annoyingly attractive and she knows it too! arguably, it makes it more annoying! as the two of you get to know each other and she starts tutoring you after hours, a tension you thought was one-sided blooms between the two of you. however, shoko's past comes to haunt you when you least expect it.
PAIRING ✂️ phd!student!shoko x uni!student!fem!reader
STATUS ✂️ ongoing
TAGS / WARNINGS ✂️ smau with written chapters, lesbians, femxfem, shoko is a few years older, fluff, cute sapphic moments, and they were roommates, nsfw / vulgar jokes, y/n's very sweet, shoko messes up, SAPPHIC YEARNNNNN
ᢉ𐭩 fem!reader, 𝐵oxer!Yuji, who wins after surviving 12 brutal rounds, but he isn't thinking about the belt nor the cameras. He's focused on you.
"and your winner.."
The referee grips his wrist, lifting his arm proudly while the arena erupts into cheers. Fans going absolutely wild chanting his name. Commentators are yelling over one another. "What a performance from Itadori, Yuji!"
Flashes from the cameras are all going off at once. Yuji raises his other hand as an attempt to cover his eyes. Despite all the noise he could barely hear them. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. Blood trickles from a cut over his eyebrow. Sweat drips from his chin. He should be celebrating like everyone else, instead his eyes are scanning the crowd.
For you.
Unbeknownst to him, you were already making your way towards him. You are so proud of him, tears threatening to fall from those very eyes he adores so much. Training for months, just for this moment. Yet all he wanted was you sharing it with him.
The moment feels surreal. People are shouting, the lights blaring so hard they almost drown out everything else. Reporters are already climbing onto the apron, cameras pointed directly at Yuji as photographers scramble for the perfect championship shot.
But he isn't looking at any of them. His eyes keep searching. Where are you?
His coach pats his shoulder, the referee shouting something he can't make out over the deafening cheers. The championship belt is draped over him, heavy against his shoulders, but he barely notices it.
Then—
He sees you.
You're pushing your way through the crowd, tears already spilling down your cheeks. His expression changes immediately. His entire face lights up like he had won all over again.
Your eyes meet his and you spot that ridiculous grin, it's contagious. You smile back. Without another thought, he hops down from the ring.
Security immediately rushes over. "Yuji! This way—the interviews—"
"S-Sorry!" he calls over his shoulder, weaving around them. "Just one second!"
You barely have time to wipe your eyes before he's made it to you. You take in all of him standing before you. His ruffled up rosy hair, the sweat dripping from his head, the cut from his eyebrow that's still bleeding. God he looks hot.
You reach up instinctively, cupping his face as gently as if he were made of glass. "You did it," you whisper, your voice trembling.
"I did," he says with a breathless laugh.
Your thumb brushes carefully beneath his eye, avoiding the fresh cut. You analyze his pretty face. His puppy brown eyes staring back at you. "I'm so proud of you." you say gently.
His smile falters for just a second, not because he's upset. Because hearing those words from you means more than the roaring crowd ever could. He leans into your hand. His own raising to cup yours. "I kept looking for you," he admits quietly.
"I know."
"I couldn't find you."
"I was coming to you." you explained with a playful tone.
His eyes soften. "Oh." A small laugh escapes from him "Guess we had the same idea."
The cameras finally catch up, surrounding the two of you. Yuji immediately steps in front of you, separating you from the chaos. The sudden flashes and shouting voices overwhelm the quiet moment you had shared.
For a moment, neither of you says anything. You can see the worry in his expression, the way he keeps glancing back at you to make sure you’re okay despite everything happening around him. A small smile forms on your face, touched by how naturally he puts you first.
You smile softly and reach for his hand. "Go."
He looks back, a bit shocked. "What..no. Just ignore them, baby." He whines.
You roll your eyes and squeeze his hand for a second, "We'll celebrate later. Together." You smile, looking down at your hands, letting go.
Yuji's eyes follow yours down to your hands as your fingers slowly slip from his. He doesn't move and he doesn't want to. His thumb brushes against yours one last time before you let go completely.
"...Promise?" he asks quietly.
You look back up at him. "I promise."
His shoulders relax just enough. He nods slightly satisfied.
You reach up, gently brushing a stray pink strand away from his forehead, careful not to touch the fresh cut above his eyebrow. "And after they're done..." You lean in just enough that only he can hear. "...You're all mine."
His ears instantly turn bright red. "...B-Baby..."
You smirked to yourself, a quiet laugh escaping your lips at the sight before you. Yuji remained rooted to the spot, cheeks burning as he tried—and completely failed—to recover from your teasing. His mouth opened slightly as if to say something, only for no words to come out.
You gave him one last warm smile before taking a slow step backward. "Don't keep them waiting, Yu."
You turned on your heel, your figure disappearing into the crowd of people as you made your way toward the quieter hallway beyond the arena. You knew he'd find you the moment the interviews were over.
Yuji stood there for another heartbeat, completely frozen. "...Fuck." he mumbled under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck with a helpless grin.
"ITADORI!" his coach barked.
Yuji jolted. "Right! Coming!"
a little continuation of boxer!yuji 🥹 you guys gotta tell me what you guys want or gimme ideas!
Synopsis: you are sent to become the King of Curses new bride, but you are not as innocent as the King thinks.
tw: 18+ content. oral (fem receiving) rude kuna, creampie, improper use of second mouth, slight choking, p in v, sexual content, p with plot lololol. Idk what else to put lol enjoy!!
────୨ৎ────
You must be cursed. By the gods, by your people, possibly even by the universe.
To avoid slaughter of your village, the elders chose you to send to the kings castle as his new bride. You had heard the rumors, a man with 4 arms, 4 eyes, and a heart made of darkness. The stories have been told for centuries, a demon, a king, a king of what? Curses. A man who is not even a man, slaughtering countless villages, kingdoms, and taking the world as his own. He is king of nearly every province stretching across all of Asia. He has had many wives, wives in which are.. gone now. Where? Who knows. Probably to hell. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he has his own gateway there where he dumps the souls of humans he no longer has use for.
The weather is quite unfitting for today, sunny, warm, a breeze that could roll away all of your worries. This breeze will not be of any help to you now though, seeing in which the female elders are bathing you, dressing you in a white bridal style kimono to show you are pure, and still innocent. Untouched.
You are hauled into a cart, pulled by two cattle. Some of the stronger men of the village accompany you on the descent up to the kings castle. If you could even call it that, more like his lair. You were told not to cry, not to disobey, and to do everything he asks you to. Not to speak without permission, better yet, do not utter a word at all.
Let us go back to the beginning, shall we? Why the elders chose you, out of all the women in the village.
For one, your mouth is untamable. You have a soul made of fire, of passion. A fire that cannot be put out, no matter how many times you’ve been punished for your slick words. No amount of threats, pain, or being locked in your room with no food for 3 days could ever break your spirit.
They figured he’d have fun with you. Break you until you’re at your wits end, and then they’d have to find another woman to take your place when he ultimately sends you to your demise.
What they didn’t realize was, you are not that stupid. Oh, the opposite actually. When they informed you of your new position, you knew exactly what you needed to do. Tame the king of curses, and take revenge upon the people in your village who had cast you out.
An honorable feat, yes. Was it undoable? Probably. Will that stop you? No, not at all.
You have decided to play the good wife, innocent woman, and then take him by surprise.
Nobody would dare talk back to him, nobody would even dare look Ryomen Sukuna in his eyes.
You will be the one.
You will not cry, your words will not falter, and you will not fear him.
Let’s get back to business.
The climb seemed endless. The higher the cart traveled, the quieter the world became.
Even the singing of the birds disappeared.
The chirping of the insects.
Even the cattle pulling the cart grew uneasy, their ears began pinning back as they trudged up the winding mountain path. Thick cedar trees towered overhead, and they swallowed what little sunlight was left at this time. Every so often, you caught glimpses of stone gates, each one stained a darker shade of red than the last.
Nobody spoke. The men escorting you had gone pale hours ago.
One of them clutched his prayer beads around his wrist so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Another was muttering blessings beneath his breath, his voice couldn’t stop trembling enough in a way which almost made you laugh.
Cowards. Every last one of them.
They were terrified of even walking this path. Did they have no empathy? Why should they be afraid when you are the one made to live with him.
The road finally leveled out, and there it stood. The kings residence.
It wasn’t the towering castle you’d imagined.
It was worse, far worse.
A sprawling estate built into the side of the mountain itself, roofs of black lacquer stacked one behind another until they disappeared into the mist. Massive oni statues stood guard at the entrance, each carved with snarling faces and fangs long enough to impale a man. Crimson banners hung motionless despite the breeze, embroidered with symbols you didn’t recognize, couldn’t even read.
It felt like it wasn’t built there, but yet the mountain itself bowed to the king.
The cattle refused to move another step, and so did the men.
“We are here,” One of the men said with quivering lips. “You will walk the rest of the way,”
Of course you will.
You stepped onto the stone path. No one reached out to steady you. No one offered words of comfort.
The elder cleared his throat.
“…Remember what we told you.”
You looked at him. For just a moment. His eyes flickered away.
“Of course.”
Your smile was small. Sweet. Perfect.
“I’ll make our village proud.”
The guilt on his face almost made the trip worthwhile. Without another word, the gates groaned open, and the men took the cattle and the carriage, and fled back down the mountain. Leaving you alone.
The heavy doors slammed shut behind you the moment you crossed the threshold.
The sound echoed through the estate.
The men outside didn’t call your name.
Didn’t wait.
Didn’t even look back.
“…How rude.”
The voice came from somewhere ahead. You followed it through a long corridor lined with flickering lanterns. The scent of sandalwood mixed strangely with iron, and beneath your sandals, the polished floors were so immaculate you could almost see your reflection.
The corridor opened into an enormous audience hall, and your feet stopped before your mind could tell them to.
There he was.
Ryomen Sukuna.
He sat lazily atop an elevated platform, one leg bent while the other stretched over the edge as though this entire meeting bored him.
Four arms.
Four eyes.
Pink hair that caught the late light of the evening.
Black markings crawled across his skin like living ink, disappearing beneath the loose folds of his robes.
He was beautiful. In the same way a lightning strike was beautiful. The same way standing at the edge of a cliff was beautiful.
Something magnificent that could kill you without a second thought.
His upper right hand rested against his cheek.
The lower left lazily spun a dagger between his fingers.
His eyes settled on you.
All four of them.
The room suddenly felt too small.
“So.”
His voice rolled through the hall.
“This is the offering.”
You lowered your head into a respectful bow. “My lord.”
Silence.
You counted the seconds.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
“…Look at me.”
There it was. Your first test.
The village had ordered you never to meet his eyes, and of course, you will not head their warnings.
So you slowly lifted your head. And looked directly into all four of them.
The dagger stopped spinning. One of his brows rose.
“…Interesting.”
A slow smile spread across his face.
"What's your name, woman?" He asks you, though his tone suggests he doesn't particularly care at all.
“It is y/n, my lord.”
"Y/n," he repeats, the syllables rolling off his tongue like something to be tasted. He tilts his head, studying you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. “A simple name for a simple offering."
He then gestures toward the elaborate feast spread across the low table in the corner. There are roasted meats, sake, rice, seared vegetables, fresh mochi cakes, and seasonal fruits. "Eat."
This is where it begins. “May I decline, my lord? I am not particularly hungry.”
His eyebrows twitch at your polite refusal. Most would tremble and obey without question, but you possess a quiet confidence that intrigues him despite himself. His gaze sharpens, piercing through you."You'll eat my food," he states, more demand than question. "It's disrespectful to decline a King’s hospitality."
“Of course my lord. I am deeply sorry.” You bow again, playing the coy woman. You walk yourself over to the table of food, and take your seat.
His eyes follow you as you sit, noting the graceful movement of your body, the way the kimono falls around you. The village elders mentioned you were difficult. Rebellious. Unyielding. Yet here you are, bowing and eating according to his wishes, or perhaps just following the rules of survival. He does not know which it is yet. He walks to his seat across from you, pouring himself a cup of sake.
You keep your gaze lowered as you reach for the bowl of rice, careful not to rush. You know he is watching. Every movement that you make, and every breath you take into your lungs.
You bring the first bite to your lips. Then the second.
Only enough to satisfy the command.
Across from you, Sukuna lazily swirls the sake in his cup before taking a drink.
“You eat like someone expecting poison.”
You set your chopsticks down.
“If you intended to poison me, my lord, I imagine I would already be dead.”
A corner of his mouth lifts.
“You assume I wouldn’t enjoy watching it work.”
“I assume,” you reply evenly, “that if you wished to kill me, you wouldn’t waste good food doing it.”
Silence.
One of his lower hands drums a slow rhythm against the table.
“…The elders did not tell me you were clever.”
“They did not think I was.”
“Hm.”
His eyes narrow slightly.
“They told me you were troublesome.”
You almost smile.
His grin grows sharper.
“I was beginning to think they had lied.”
He reaches across the table with one of his upper hands, plucking a grape from the bowl between you.
Instead of eating it himself…
He holds it toward you.
“Open.”
Another test. You know it immediately.
If you hesitate, you offend him.
If you obey too eagerly, you become another frightened bride.
Slowly, you lift your eyes to his.
Without a word, you lean forward just enough to accept the fruit.
Your lips brush against the tips of his fingers.
Deliberately. Only for an instant. Then you lean back, chewing quietly as though nothing had happened.
His hand remains suspended in the air. Interesting.
Not because you touched him.
Because you hadn’t flinched. Most people recoiled before they ever came close enough to feel his skin.
You hadn’t even blinked.
He withdraws his hand.
“You’ve been taught manners.”
“I have.”
“And yet your village still wished to be rid of you.”
Your fingers pause around the porcelain cup.
So.
He already knows.
Of course he does.
“You’ve done your research.”
“I know everything worth knowing that enters my land.”
His gaze lingers on your face.
“So tell me…” His voice softens.
“What offense earned you this honor?”
You lower your eyes once more.
“They found me difficult.”
“I gathered that.”
“I asked too many questions.”
“Hm.”
“I disagreed with my elders.”
“I can imagine.”
“I refused a marriage.”
At that, one of his brows lifts.
“The son of the village chief.”
“And?”
“He believed my refusal insulted his family.”
“So they handed you to me instead.”
You nod once.
“They believed it solved two problems.”
A low chuckle rumbles through the hall.
“Cowards.”
The word leaves his mouth with unmistakable contempt. “They feared one woman’s tongue more than they feared sending her to a monster.”
His crimson eyes meet yours again. “…Pathetic.”
Out of nowhere, he crushes the ceramic sake cup in one hand without so much as looking at it.
Fragments scatter across the table.
“I despise weak rulers. There is no value in leaders who throw away useful tools because they cannot control them.”
His gaze settles on you once more.
The silence stretches between you two.
Neither of you reached for the food.
The brazier crackled softly between you, its flames throwing restless shadows across the room. Sukuna leaned back against the cushion at his side, one arm draped lazily over his raised knee while another rested on the table. To anyone else, it may have looked relaxed.
You knew better.
Predators looked calm before they struck.
“You’ve gone quiet.”
You folded your hands neatly in your lap.
“I was waiting for permission to speak.”
“Hm.”
His upper right hand tapped against his cheek.
“And if I never gave it?”
“I would remain silent.”
“You’d obey?”
“I would fulfill my duty as your wife.”
His lips curled.
“Liar.”
The word came so quickly that you almost looked up in surprise.
“I don’t believe a single thing you’ve said since you have arrived.”
Your expression remained smooth.
“Then why ask me questions?”
“Because eventually…”
He leaned forward.
“…everyone slips.”
His crimson eyes bored into yours.
“They speak without thinking. They forget themselves.They reveal who they are.”
One of his lower hands reached across the table, plucking your untouched cup of tea from in front of you.He drank from it.Then set it back exactly where it’d been.
“I have patience.” His smile widened. “You’ll disappoint yourself before you disappoint me.”
You looked down at the cup. “You’ve shared my tea, my lord.”
“I have.”
“Was there a reason?”
“Does there need to be?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He watched for a reaction.
Disgust. Embarrassment. Flattery.
Nothing.
Only that same composed expression.
“…You’re difficult to read.”
“I’ve been told.”
“I dislike that.”
“I gathered.”
Another pause.
Then, unexpectedly,
“What do you think of me?”
Your fingers tightened beneath the table.
It was a dangerous question. The truth would get you killed. A lie would insult him.
You chose neither.
“I think…”
You lifted your gaze carefully.
“…that you are exactly as powerful as the stories claim.”
His expression didn’t change.
“And?”
“You are observant.”
“Hm.”
“You see things others don’t.”
“Go on.”
“And I believe…”
You let your words linger for just a heartbeat.
“…that you’re lonelier than anyone would dare admit.”
The room froze. The air itself seemed to grow heavier. Outside, the wind died.
For the first time since entering his palace…You wondered if you’d gone too far.
Sukuna stared at you. Expressionless.
The wooden table cracked beneath one of his hands.
A jagged line spread through the lacquered surface with a sharp crack.
“You presume much.”
His voice had dropped lower than before.
“I do.”
“You think because I’ve allowed you to breathe…”
His smile returned, though there was no amusement in it now. “…that you’ve begun to understand me?”
“No.”
“Then why say it?”
You met his gaze without wavering.
“Because you asked.”
Silence.
Another long…
Uncomfortable silence.
Then, to your surprise,
He laughed.
Not loudly, or mockingly. It was short.
A single breath of amusement through his nose.
“Good.”
He stood.
Towering over the ruined table.
“I was beginning to think you’d answer like every other woman brought before me.”
He stepped around the feast, stopping at your side.
One large hand came to rest atop your head. Not affectionately, of course.
He gripped your chin just enough to force you to tilt upward.
“You have courage.”
His thumb brushed your chin lightly.
“Or astonishing stupidity.”
“I haven’t decided which.”
His four eyes searched yours again.
Long enough that your neck began to ache beneath the weight of his hand.
Finally, he released you.
“You’ll stay.”
The words were spoken as though they required no explanation.
He turned toward the doorway.
“Oh.”
Without looking back, he added,
“And stop pretending.”
Your heartbeat began to quicken.
“I don’t know which version of yourself is real. But the obedient bride…”
A quiet chuckle echoed through the hall.
“…is the least convincing performance I’ve seen in centuries.”
Then he walked away, leaving you alone before the half finished feast.
Your hands remained folded in your lap. Perfectly still.
Only after the doors slid shut behind him…Did the smallest smile tug at the corner of your lips.
He had seen through the act. Not all of it. But enough.
Which meant one thing.
The real game…Had finally begun.
The room was yours again.
You exhaled slowly, the breath leaving your lungs far shakier than you would’ve liked.
“…He is insufferable.”
“Careful.”
The unfamiliar voice made your shoulders stiffen.
A man emerged from one of the shadowed hallways carrying an empty serving tray. His hair was pale, tied loosely at the nape of his neck. Unlike everyone from your village, he didn’t look terrified.
Only tired.
Very tired.
“You’ll offend him if he hears you.”
You watched him carefully.
“And you are?”
He offered a shallow bow.
“Uraume.”
“So he does keep servants.”
“I serve because I choose to.”
You weren’t sure you believed that.
Uraume stepped around the cracked table as though it were an everyday inconvenience. Which, judging by the ease with which they moved, perhaps it was.
Their eyes flicked toward your untouched meal.
“You hardly ate.”
“He wasn’t interested in whether I was hungry.”
“No.”
They began collecting shattered pieces of the sake cup as casually as if they were flower petals.
Perhaps the village had been right. Perhaps there truly was no taming him.
“Come.”
Uraume balanced the tray on one hand.
“I’ll show you your quarters.”
The palace was even larger from the inside. Long corridors stretched endlessly beneath carved wooden beams blackened with age.
No guards patrolled. No servants bustled about.
The place was eerily… empty.
“Does no one else live here?”
“Many do.”
“I haven’t seen anyone.”
“You aren’t meant to.”
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.
Eventually, Uraume stopped before a pair of cedar doors.
“This is yours.”
The room was beautiful.
Tatami mats covered the floor. Silk bedding rested upon a raised platform. An open veranda overlooked the mountains below, where clouds drifted lazily through the valleys.
Fresh flowers sat in a porcelain vase near the window.
You blinked.
“He had these prepared?”
“They’re replaced every morning.”
“For… his wives?”
“No.”
Uraume answered without emotion.
“For you.”
Your brows knit together.
“How could he have known I’d like flowers?”
“He didn’t.”
“Then why?”
“He likes them.”
You stared.
“…He likes flowers?”
“He likes beautiful things.”
That was somehow more unsettling.
Before you could ask another question, footsteps echoed through the corridor.
Uraume immediately stepped aside.
You turned just as Sukuna rounded the corner.
He had changed out of his ceremonial robes.
Now he wore a simpler dark yukata, though “simple” felt like the wrong word for a man whose mere presence made the hallway seem smaller.
His eyes landed on you.
Then on Uraume.
“Leave.”
Uraume bowed once and disappeared without another word.
You were alone with him again.
Sukuna glanced toward your room.
“You approve?”
“It is more than I expected.”
“I know.”
“…Thank you.”
One brow lifted.
“You thank me?”
“It seemed appropriate.”
“Hm.”
His gaze drifted past you, into the room.
“You’ve been asking questions.”
“A few.”
“What did you learn?”
“That lying to you is unwise.”
A grin tugged at one corner of his mouth.
“And…”
You hesitated.
“You like flowers.”
His eyes slowly returned to yours.
“…Does that surprise you?”
“A little.”
“Why?”
“I suppose I imagined someone who conquers kingdoms wouldn’t care for gardens.”
“I don’t.”
“…Then why keep them?”
He looked past you, toward the vase by the window.
“They bloom. They wither. They bloom again.”
A pause.
“They don’t complain while doing it.”
You couldn’t help yourself.
“So that’s the quality you admire?”
“No.”
His gaze lingered on the petals.
“The certainty.”
Before you could make sense of that answer, he started walking again. After only a few steps, he spoke without turning around.
“You will consummate with me tomorrow.”
Your stomach tightened.
He gave a low hum.
“You are to officially become my wife.”
He looked over one shoulder, one crimson eye catching yours.
Then he continued down the corridor, leaving those words hanging in the air.
You stood frozen in the doorway of your new chambers.
The words repeated in your mind.
You will consummate with me tomorrow.
Your fingers curled slightly into the fabric of your kimono. Of course.
What had you expected?
A monster who ruled through fear would not suddenly care about your comfort. He had accepted you into his home, given you a room, fed you his food, and allowed you to speak.
But that did not mean you were free.
You were still the offering. The sacrifice.
The village had dressed you in white and sent you here hoping you would disappear like every woman before you. And yet your expression remained calm.
Because if there was one thing you refused to give him, it was the satisfaction of seeing you break.
Tomorrow.
You had one night. One night to understand the man everyone feared. One night to decide whether your plan was possible.
Because if Sukuna believed you were nothing more than another possession…Then you would let him believe it.
The night was strangely quiet. Too quiet. You had expected screams. The sounds of battle. Anything that matched the stories you had heard. Instead, the King’s palace rested peacefully beneath the moonlight. Almost as if it wasn’t the home of a man who had brought entire kingdoms to their knees.
You sat by the open veranda, staring out at the mountains. Your mind wandered.The elders.The villagers.Their faces when they told you.
“You should be grateful.”
Grateful. The word still made your blood boil. They hadn’t sacrificed themselves.They hadn’t even considered anyone else.They chose you because they knew you wouldn’t bow easily.Because they knew your spirit was the only thing they couldn’t control.
A soft sound came from behind you.
You didn’t turn immediately.
You already knew.
“You’re awake.”
Sukuna stepped onto the veranda.
“You sound disappointed.”
“I’m surprised.”
“By what?”
“That you announce your arrival instead of appearing like a ghost.”
A quiet hum.
“You’re becoming comfortable.”
You looked toward him.
“No.”
“Good.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Comfort makes people careless.”
He stepped beside the railing, looking out at the same mountains you had been watching.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was strange.
Standing beside the most feared man alive…
And realizing he was not interested in filling the silence.
“You aren’t afraid.”
There it was again. That observation. That curiosity.
You glanced at him.
“I am.”
His eyes shifted toward you.
“But?”
“But fear does not change what must be done.”
Something unreadable crossed his face. Most people would have expected anger.
Instead, it was Interest.
“You speak as though you have already accepted your fate.”
“I accepted reality.”
“And what is your reality?”
You looked back toward the mountains.
“That I was sent here.”
A pause.
“That I cannot leave.”
Another pause.
“And that if I wish to survive, I must understand you.”
The corner of his mouth lifted.
“Understand me?”
“Yes.”
“And you believe you can?”
“No.”
That answer seemed to catch him off guard.
“I believe I can try.”
For once, Sukuna did not immediately respond. The wind moved between you.
“You are strange.”
“I’ve heard.”
“No.”
His gaze settled on you.
You remained silent.
“you want revenge.”
Your eyes narrowed.
There it was. The first crack. The first sign that he had noticed more than you wanted him to.
“Be careful, woman.”
His voice lowered.
“Secrets are fragile things.”
You held his gaze.
“So are kingdoms.”
For several seconds, neither of you moved.
Then, Sukuna laughed softly.
Not kindly.
Not cruelly.
Amused.
“Tomorrow should be interesting.”
And with that, he left you beneath the moonlight.
Leaving you with the unsettling realization.
That the King of Curses was not fooled by your act.
He was waiting to see what you would do when the act was no longer enough.
The next day came quickly, quicker than you’d like.
Once awake, you spent your day wandering the palace. You visited the gardens, took walks in the bath house, and occupied yourself until the night stretched across the lands. You returned to your room, and waited. A short time passed before a knock at your door came, you walked up and opened it to be greeted by 3 women, your ladies in waiting. Apparently, to be ready to be bedded, was a 3 person job.
“Undress please my lady,” a woman spoke. Her voice soft and kind. The women looked for imperfections, scars, they studied your body until they were satisfied. An older woman spoke first. “She is perfect,”
Followed by another woman, “indeed,” she turned to face you, “you have a perfect body to give him an heir.”
“An heir? I did not think he was interested in that.”
“He isn’t, but it is good to know you are capable of it.” She walked away into the far end of the room, gathering spices. “You will soak in a bath, and then you will be dressed in your nightly robes. We will walk you to the door of his chambers, where the consummation shall take place.”
For the next hour, you are bathed, washed, and rubbed down in various lotions, oils and scents.
Your ladies dress you in a soft white nightly gown, to symbolize innocence and purity. “Are you ready, my lady?”
“Yes, I am.” Your voice is shakier than you want, but it is the truth. You are ready.
They walk you through many long corridors, stopping at two large doors. “We shall take our leave now,” and with that, you are left alone, standing in front of his chambers.
The heavy doors to his master chambers slide open, revealing a room dominated by a massive, elevated futon covered in dark red silks. You step inside with shaky legs, and await what is to come. And although it is not what anyone has ever felt, you are feeling excited, for what? That is unknown. The doors slide shut behind you with an ominous click.
You stood in the center of the room, hands folded neatly in front of you.
Waiting.
A few moments passed.
Then,
Footsteps.
Slow.
Unhurried.
The doors opened behind you. You did not turn immediately. You refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you startle.
“You are better at pretending than most.”
His voice filled the room. You turned. Sukuna stood at the entrance, his gaze immediately finding yours.He had changed from his usual robes, though even without the armor of a king, he carried the same overwhelming presence.
“You make it sound as if it is an insult,” you start, but then are cut off with his voice.
“It is.”
He steps closer, closing the distance between you. His four eyes trace the curve of your white night attire, the way your hair catches the flickering candlelight, and the subtle defiant set of your shoulders. "You speak as though your obedience is a negotiation." He reaches out with one large hand, tilting your chin up to force your gaze to meet his.
"It is hardly negotiation, my King," you reply smoothly, lifting your chin to meet his overwhelming gaze despite your smaller stature. Your beautiful skin is lit softly in the candlelight. "It is simply acknowledging that I am a wife, not a slave. My duty includes obedience, yes, but I still possess a voice."
“You dare speak to me that way, woman? Your mouth has not learnt its place. No matter how much you pretend, you cannot hide anymore, can you?”
“Show me my place, my lord. And I will accept it.”
His thumb brushes against your jaw, the touch surprisingly controlled given his reputation for brutality. He seems almost... amused by your audacity. "Tsk. You don’t want to learn your place, you wish to dismantle it. A voice," he repeats, as if testing the word on his tongue. "Most women simply tremble and offer nothing but tears. You offer... commentary." His upper right hand releases your chin, moving to trace the edge of your white sleepwear, his fingers push softly into your shoulder.
Your breath hitches slightly as his clawed fingers trace the delicate fabric, but you force yourself to remain still. This is your moment. You will show him that his dark reputation doesn't intimidate you."My voice is merely the byproduct of my personality, my lord," you state, tilting your head slightly.
His four eyes narrow at your refusal to tremble, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face before settling back into his mask of cold indifference. "Personality," he repeats flatly, taking a step back. The distance between you now feels wider, more formal. "The court told me you were... energetic. I suppose that is a kind way of putting it."
"Energetic," you repeat with a dry laugh, your hair bouncing as you shake your head. "Is that what they call it at court? That's a very polite euphemism."
His lips twitch with something that might be amusement or simply irritation. He turns away abruptly, giving you a view of his broad, muscular back and the tattoo like markings that seem to dance in the candlelight. "I expect silence and obedience from my wife, not... commentary." He orders coldly.
“Yes my lord, I am deeply sorry.”
"Now, are you ready to consummate?" He demands, his voice dropping an octave, losing the patience for the verbal sparring. The question hangs heavy in the air between you, a command rather than an inquiry. He turns back to face you fully, his towering presence dominating the room. "Do not make me ask twice."
“Yes, my lord. I am ready,” your voice is breathy, and you can’t help but start to notice things about him. His muscles, his broad shoulders, his deep voice and his long fingers. The impure thoughts berating your mind feel as if they can be heard by him.
He gives a sharp, and satisfied nod, the tension in the room shifting instantly from verbal sparring to a kind of raw, primal intent. He steps forward, closing the small distance between you until his massive shadow completely engulfs your smaller frame.
"Good." He reaches down, gripping the fabric of your white embroidered night gown with both lower hands, beginning to tug the layers apart. The silk parts effortlessly, sliding down your shoulders and pooling around your feet, leaving your skin completely bare before him. Your hair falls down your shoulders, contrasting beautifully with your curves. His four eyes rake over you without shame, slowly assessing your naked form. There is undeniable approval in his gaze, even he cannot deny he was sent a stunning woman. "Lay down on the bedding."
You obey, stepping carefully out of the pooled silk and moving toward the massive futon in the center of the room. You lower yourself onto the luxurious bedding, your hair spreading out against the dark pillows like a halo, your skin glistening softly in the dim light. He towers over the edge of the bed, watching you like a predator observing its prey. He begins to disrobe, letting his own robe fall open to reveal his terrifying, magnificent form. Four powerful arms, intricate black markings stretching across his muscular chest, and the massive, erection that stands proudly beneath his waist. His four eyes burn into yours as he climbs onto the bedding, the mattress dipping dangerously under his heavy weight. "Spread your legs."
Your curiosity gets the best of you, despite the situation, you cannot help but let your eyes drop to his stomach. You stare, mouth agape, at a second mouth placed right above his groin. He obviously catches you staring, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips. "Do you find that distracting, wife?" His voice is dripping with mockery. Before you can respond, the second mouth on his stomach opens, a wet curling tongue emerging to lick slowly across his abdomen in warning. “Careful woman. Watch what you gaze upon."
“I- I am sorry my lord I am simply-“
“Nervous?.” He finishes for you, his tone dripping with condescension. He looms over you, positioning himself between your spread thighs, that thick cock pressing against your inner thigh. not inside you yet, but promising its entrance. His lower hands press your knees wider apart, keeping you open and exposed. “You need not apologize for looking.” He catches the subtle whimper that leaves your lips as his hands grip your knees, and the slick heat radiating from your thighs. His nose flares, the scent of arousal hitting his inhuman senses. One of his upper hands moves down, tracing along the inside of your thigh where glistening wetness already coats your folds.
"You are genuinely aroused?." He states observationally, almost like he's surprised. Perhaps expecting tears and trembling instead.
“Yes my lord, I am awaiting.” you sigh out, meeting his two sets of eyes.
His thumb finds your clit, circling it once slowly and deliberately. The touch is clinical, not tender but a surveyor assessing terrain. "This is good," he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. "Do not embarrass yourself by crying out during the actual act."He positions himself at your entrance, that massive head pressing against your slick opening. "Breathe."
Despite his command, your breath catches in your throat almost immediately. His voice remains steady, commanding you to maintain your composure. His upper hands grip your hips tightly, pinning you to the futon as he begins to push the thickest part of his length against your entrance, not yet inserting, but making his presence undeniable."Breathe deeply, wife. I will not have you choking." He stares sternly into your eyes, looking for any hints of fear.
You slow your breathing, taking slow deep breaths, allowing the air to fully circulate in your body before breathing out. He begins pushing in, his size stretching your opening to fit him. He pauses, for a small moment allowing you to adjust before he continues pushing into your core. The room is nearly silent, aside from the small creaking of the futon beneath you. He continues watching your face carefully, monitoring every single reaction. His lower hands spread your thighs wider while his upper hands maintain their grip on your hips, keeping you open and immobile. With slow, deliberate movements, he begins to feed his massive length into you inch by agonizing inch. “Calm down woman.”
“I- I am trying,” you breath out, gasps leaving you every second. “It is.. mmm.. I am,” the sound slips out before you can stop it. a sharp, stifled gasp. Your fingers dig into the silk futon underneath you, your brow furrowing in response to the overwhelming sensation of being filled. Your hair moves slightly as you tilt your head back in an involuntary struggle to maintain composure.
His gaze remains sharp, observing every flinch and micro expression your face gives to him.
"That sound," he says, his voice low and deep, "was not a breath. I warned you about crying out." He pauses, his massive length halfway inside you, stretching you beyond what feels possible. "Do it again, and I will gag you."
“do.. you not wish to know I am experiencing pleasure, my lord?” Unfortunately, despite your best efforts, your hips involuntarily roll up, chasing more movement, more friction. His grip on your hips tightens, hard enough to bruise.
He stops pushing, the tip of his massive cock resting against your cervix. His eyes narrow dangerously at your audacity, a wife questioning him during the act. "You are my wife, Your pleasure is irrelevant to my satisfaction." His lower hands push you deeper onto the futon, his tone final. You nod, biting your lip to control further noise. Unsuccessful of course. A moan escapes your plump lips and his eyes narrow at your stubborn resistance to control. The sound slips through your clenched teeth despite your efforts, leaving you vulnerable to his mocking gaze. His thumb brushes across your jaw, feeling the vibration of your struggle. "You cannot control yourself." He states, rather than asks. "I want no wife who leaks noise every time my weight touches her."
“I am sorry, I cannot..! It, it is excruciatingly pleasing.” Another push upwards, your body betrays you. Your mind says to obey, yet your body needs more. He stills instantly, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits at your confession. He seems genuinely unbothered by your pleasure and more irritated by your lack of restraint. "I do not care if it feels good," he snaps, his upper hands gripping your jaw to force your eyes onto his. "This is about my satisfaction, not yours. Control yourself."
“I swear my king, I am trying my hardest,”
Your hips roll upward entirely without permission, your body betraying your mind's desperate attempt at obedience. The slick friction draws a ragged gasp from your throat, your skin glistening with a sheen of sweat as you instinctively chase more of that overwhelming sensation."Stop moving,"
“Well then you must!”
“You dare speak a plea for me to fulfill your desires, woman? I am not moving to accommodate your pleasures.” He snaps sharply, “you will remain still, and you will learn discipline while I fuck you, wife.” He pushes his cock in deeper, hitting your cervix.
“o-oh my god! I- I cannot, it is-..” A untamable mouth indeed. The loud cry escapes you instantly as his thick length pounds deep, hitting your most sensitive spot. His face contorts into an angry mask, the sight of your helpless, gasping body under him causing visible irritation rather than pleasure. "There it is again," He growls, "That disgusting noise."
“You.. you cannot tell me you do not find pleasure in the sounds of your wife in the chambers,”
His movements slow, his thick length pulsing inside you as he glares down at you, clearly displeased with your defiance. "You are my wife, not my lover," he corrects coldly, his massive form looming over you. "Your sounds are not music to my ears. they are a reminder of your lack of control."
“And if I am not to be your lover, then who is?”
“Nobody. I shall not partake in such humanly matters such as love. It is unruly and disgusting,” He does not hesitate, his expression remaining coldly indifferent. "I have a wife for duty, lineage, and convenience." He thrusts sharply, cutting off any further argument, his four hands pinning you completely immobile. "Love is a weakness for mortals. Do not mistake your role for affection."
“So.. do you not love pussy my lord?” You tilt your head, gripping onto the silk beneath you.
He stops moving entirely, the audacity of the question hanging heavily in the air. His four eyes narrow at you, the stomach mouth twisting into a jagged grin as he stares down at your trembling form. "I enjoy conquest. I enjoy taking what belongs to me." His voice is devoid of affection. "Pussy is a commodity. I do not 'love' it."
“I see,” you sigh, twisting your face into a small frown.
His jaw tightens at your simple observation, as if your acceptance of his coldness displeases him in some unspoken way. His massive cock pulses inside you, your wetness coating him as he considers your words. The stomach mouth curls its tongue deliberately against his abdomen, a strange, almost irritated gesture. "You sound disappointed." He resumes slow, punishing thrusts.
“Yes, I am. Quite,” You are now a little more able to quiet yourself. Allowing yourself only small gasps.
He freezes mid thrust, his four eyes blazing down at you with something dangerously close to curiosity. "You are disappointed?" He repeats, the concept clearly foreign to him. "A mortal woman is disappointed that her King of Curses does not whisper sweet nothings through four mouthfuls of teeth?"
“Yes my king. I am.” You avoid his gaze entirely, feeling as though your plan is actually undoable.
The sheer audacity renders him momentarily speechless. a mortal woman actually complaining that a monstrous Curse King does not offer romance. His four hands pin you harder, his cock burying deep inside you."You are absolutely ridiculous." He delivers a sharp, ruthless thrust. "I am a curse. I slaughter thousands. I ruin nations. You expect love?" He snaps.
“I do not, but would it be so bad?” You must have lost your mind. Truly. His massive frame tenses at your casual remark, something almost absurd and comical in the face of such cold, calculated violence. "It would be disastrous." His voice remains utterly matter of fact, as if discussing the weather rather than the potential for romance. "I do not 'do' love, wife. I do not 'do' softness."
“Should you not ever wish to try? Should you not wish to put the organ beating inside of your chest to good use?” You allow your eyes to meet his again, something you have been avoiding the past few moments.
"Try?" He repeats the word with visceral disgust, as if you've just suggested he try eating garbage. "I have existed for over a thousand years. I have never 'tried' anything that did not serve my purposes."
You cannot stop yourself from smiling. “Love shall serve you my lord. You do not know if it does, or doesn’t. Seeing as though you have never tried.” You did make up your mind, you will tame the king of curses. This may be your best attempt, and it seems as though it is going… not so well.
“You are clever, woman. I will give you that. Show me this ‘love’ you seem to speak of. I should like to see what you won’t shut up about.” His challenge hangs in the air like a dare. an impossibility. The King of Curses, who has carved mountains with cleave and dismantle, who has felled gods and amassed thousands of followers through terror alone, now sits perched on the precipice of something entirely unknown. He has devoured, conquered, and corrupted... but never loved.
And he demands proof.
“Well, I believe you should find pleasure in my pleasure, my lord. When you love, their pleasure is your own.”
The suggestion is heresy. Utter, blasphemous heresy. Sukuna has taken what he desired from countless women across a millennium. Their bodies, their cries, their submission and never once considered their satisfaction as anything other than a metric of his own dominance. To pleasure the woman? Why would he? She is there for his release. His satisfaction.
“This is a foreign concept. An unruly ideal.”
“Should you want to do this, or not my lord?”
“Speak, woman.”
“Fuck me as if you want me to make noise. For you, for your ears only.”
This order flips his entire existence upside down. For a millennium, he has fucked women and demanded silence, pounded them into oblivion where their noises were meaningless disgusting noise. To fuck with the specific intention of drawing out sounds for his own pleasure is a concept entirely alien to him. His four massive hands settle heavily onto your body, gripping your hips and thighs with terrifying strength. “I shall give you what you want wife, and if this gives me no pleasure or satisfaction, you will perish.”
“I am confident in my ways, my lord. Now show me what you believe it is to please a woman.”
He scoffs, as if this entire situation is a joke. Yet, he continues. He slips out of you, and positions himself again to slide back in. This time, with slow, accurate precision. You gasp at the softer entrance, dipping your head back against the plush pillows and allowing yourself to whimper. The sound that escapes your mouth hits hips. His hips shift instinctively, pulling back slightly to savor the sound. His eyes narrow, all four of them focusing on your face, watching your mouth, your throat, your chest heave with each desperate sound. Something dark and ancient stirs inside him, an extremely unfamiliar sensation. “Is this what you wanted, wife?”
“Yes, yes-“ You sigh and bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Keep going, I beg of you,” He obeys. Not because you command him, you couldn't command a flea even if you tried. but because your sound demands it. The king of curses, who has answered to no one for a thousand years, finds himself enslaved to the melody leaving your mouth.His thrusts begin, not with his usual dominating rhythm, but with something calculated.
You release more sounds, more noise that should not sound heavenly. More lustful melodies for him to hear. You reach your arms up to hold onto his broad shoulders, keeping eye contact. “I should like to call upon your name, your true name. May I, my king? Please?” He freezes at the request. No mortal has ever spoken his true name. It is a name whispered in ancient texts, a name that can summon his very essence. To hear it on your lips, in the midst of this... experiment... is almost unbearably painful. “Please, I beg of you. Allow me this,” You say within small moans and whimpers, your nails digging into the skin on his shoulder.
"Ryomen Sukuna." The name leaves his lips like a heavy decree, granting permission to something that has been forbidden to mortals for a thousand years. It sounds raw, stripped of its god-like terror, reduced to a mere identifier between your entwined bodies. "Scream it," he commands, his hips snapping forward harder, demanding the sound he now craves. A craving unknown to him. He has never wanted for a woman, a mere toy to speak his true name. To acknowledge him in any way other than Lord, or King.
The sounds in which that leave you now are primal, only the sound of true, pleasure. You don’t even try to stop the whimpering, the noise, the moans. The wet sounds of your bodies mixing together fill the room. A room in which has been silent for an amount of time unimaginable. “You are- you are so.. incredible when you want it sukuna.”
The sentence destroys whatever he has left in him. Your moan wrapped around his true name, something forbidden, sacred, intimate. strikes him harder than any attack he has ever faced. It hits his cursed brain with an addictive feeling. His rhythm shifts instantly, abandoning brutality for devastating, calculated perfection. Every thrust is designed to pull that exact sound from your throat. He needs it again, he needs to hear it forever.
"I can’t, oh fuck! please, sukuna, don't stop!" You cry out, your nails digging desperately into his broad, tattooed shoulders as your body arches off the futon. The pleasure is overwhelming, blinding, dragging broken moans from your throat with every snap of his hips. "You feel so good, oh god- right there, please!" Your legs wrap around him instinctively, pulling him deeper. Your back arches so sharply it threatens to snap as you throw your head back, a broken scream tearing from your throat. His hands find yours, pinning them above your head, not to dominate but to feel your fingers clench, to feel your need.
"Again," he demands, his voice stripped of its usual cruelty, raw and needy instead.
You gasp out a broken moan, your body trembling beneath him. "Yes, yes! sukuna, please!" Your hips buck upward, chasing the friction between you. your back arching like a bow. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, your nails scratching lightly against his scalp.
"Please- I'm s’close, don't stop-"
He doesn't stop. He can't. Your sounds have hooked into something primal within him, awaking a craving that eclipses his thousand year dominance. He watches your face contort, your mouth opening and closing, your eyes rolling back.
"Closer," he demands, his pace becoming relentless, brutal and precise. He is making sure he hits exactly where he heard your loudest cries.
Your moans hit him like physical punched. Every one is sharper, more desperate than the last. Your legs shake, calves cramping, but you can't release his hips, can't pull back.
"There!" your voice cracks, high and desperate, nothing like the respectful tones of court or temple. This is raw. This is wanting. For the first time in centuries, he wants for something other than destruction. He wants for you. For your desire, for your voice. He feels the moment your body locks up, the moment you lose control. Your inner muscles clamp down around him with crushing force, and he hears the broken, keening cry that escapes your throat. His name spills from your lips, over and over, like a prayer, like an incantation. Like a ritual.
That very sound of his name falling from your lips in that broken state sends a jolt through his entire being. A thousand years of bloody conquest, of destroying entire nations, of murdering gods, yet none of it compares to the feeling of your voice, so utterly human in its need, claiming him.
"Cum with me, wife. I command it.”
Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing beneath him. The sound that tears from your throat is almost inhuman, a cry of pure pleasure that echoes off the chamber walls. It drags him over the edge with you. The sensation hits his entire body with violent force, something that absolutely refuses to be categorized as dominance or domination. His release floods your body, hot and thick. He snarls, teeth bared, grip loosening on your wrists. His heart like rhythm falters, his pace stutters.
For a moment, he doesn't move. He just breathes.
The world tilts. His four red eyes stare down at your flushed, gasping face. Your chest heaves, struggling for air. Your legs are still wrapped loosely around his lower back, trembling. Your hands are trapped above your head. Slowly, carefully, as if he might break you, he releases your wrists. Your arms fall limply to the bed, covered in red finger marks. He doesn't pull out immediately, not yet. He's trapped in this moment, suspended between violence and something softer, much stranger. Content. Your body melts completely, turning into soft, liquid surrender. You look absolutely wrecked. hair a messy halo against the sheets, skin flushed deeply, eyes glazed and half opened. Your legs slide down from his waist, trembling. “My king,” you gasp out. The title slides from your lips in breathless reverence, laced with the exhaustion of your pleasure. Something inside him twists. A sensation he hasn't felt since the year 246. Possession. Not of conquest, but of claiming. His hand moves to your throat, not to choke, not to threaten. To rest.
“Shall you want more?” More. The word has no meaning to an entity that has had everything. But the way you ask, it's not the begging of a slave. It sounds almost like an offer. His thumb traces lazy circles on your inner thigh, still buried inside you. "You are asking me if I want more." You flash him a lazy smile, “indeed, sukuna.” The use of his name, without title, without honorific, should be an insult punishable by death. Instead, it hangs heavy on his mind laced with an intimate familiarity that makes his blood burn. The sound of it leaving your lips gives him a far greater rush than any massacre ever has. His hand tightens around your throat, a silent warning against using his name so casually, yet he enjoys it. "Mind your tongue, wife. And yes. I want more."
“May I speak freely?”
"Speak." The command is immediate, though his tone lacks its usual lethal sharpness. His hand remains loosely wrapped around your throat, his thumb stroking your pulse point absentmindedly.
“I am very… curious. About.. the uhm.. mouth” you point down to his stomach, “May I touch it?” His entire being recoils at the request. The mouth on his abdomen is sealed, ancient, dangerous. a cursed appendage that has consumed countless sacrifices. No mortal has ever touched it, let alone * asked to. His past wives have thrown up at the sight of it. His hand tightens on your throat instinctively. Not enough to hurt, but enough to signal.
"That is not for touching."
“Hm.. does it bite?” You reach your arm down, offering your hand to the creature. "Yes." The word is growled out as a warning. His abdomen tenses as your hand inches closer to the cursed mouth. He expects it to snap, to bite down on your wrist with vicious intent, it has always been a brutal, merciless thing. The moment your fingertips brush the sealed lips, the cursed mouth snaps open with terrifying speed. Rows of sharp teeth glint in the dim light. You don't flinch, offering your hand boldly. The mouth sticks out its tongue to your fingers, tasting your skin, before it closes over your hand, not biting, but holding you. Sukuna freezes, his four eyes widening. “I believe it likes me,”
“It does not ‘like’ anything but blood.” he snaps, though there is no real heat in his voice, only profound disbelief. The creature on his stomach is refusing to maim you. Instead of tearing away at your flesh, the tongue slides wetly against your palm, almost affectionate. It holds your hand gently, the sharp teeth resting harmlessly against your skin. "That thing eats men for breakfast."
“Do you allow it to partake during these times?”
“Are you mad, woman?” In the throes of pleasure, in the aftermath of this strange, quiet intimacy.
"Never." His jaw tightens. The creature remains gentle, its tongue still pressing into your palm.
“Should you allow it to taste me?”
His body tenses. The question borders on blasphemy. "Absolutely not." His voice drops to a dangerous whisper, his hand tightening around your throat. "That thing does not taste. It consumes."
“Should you then?”
“Should I what?”His voice is deadly soft, his mind reeling. The creature on his stomach squirms impatiently, its tongue pushing harder against your palm. You're playing with fire, with ancient, deadly magic and you have no idea. "Should I let it taste you?"
“No, my king. Should you taste me.”
The room goes still. His grip on your throat eases as he leans down, his lips brushing your ear.
"Where should you want me to taste you, wife?”
You grab one of his hands, and lead it down to your heat, keeping your eyes locked onto his. “Here, have you ever?”
His hand freezes the moment it's pressed against your wet, aching core. "Never." The word comes out strained, rough. He's a conqueror of nations, a killer of gods, but he has never tasted the juice of a woman. It is shameful, and disgusting. Or so he believes. “Should you like to, my king?”
“Taste that? Why would I ever allow my mouth near that?” His hand twitches against your core, fingers curling slightly. A monster, brought to his knees by a simple question. Should he like to taste you? Should he bury his face between your thighs and drink from your source like the starving monster he is?
“I will do it before you, to show you it is not this disgusting thing I assume your mind believes it to be.” You drag your hand from atop your chest, down your stomach, to meet his at your wet slick. You cover your fingers in it, and bring it to your lips.
“You are absurd, woman. Do not eat that. It is unclean.”
His eyes track your fingers moving, your mouth wrapping around your own slick. Four pupils dilate with an intensity he hasn't felt before. The creature on his stomach whines, hungry. But he is trapped watching you taste yourself.
“Is it anything but unclean, I can assure you. Should you like some?”
"Would you-" He stops, his voice hoarse. The king of curses, reduced to stammering at the sight of your wet fingers approaching his lips. "Feed me?" His red eyes burn with hunger, but not for blood or souls, just you. Your taste. Your touch.
You bring your fingers up to his mouth, and stare into all 4 of his eyes. “Drink, husband. Taste me.” His mouth opens before he can stop himself. He takes your fingers, his tongue sweeping over them, tasting your essence. It's sweeter than any sacrifice, more intoxicating than any stolen soul.
“What do you think now?” You smile.
He stares at you, four red eyes blown wide, pupils dilating until they swallow the iris. He withdraws your fingers slowly, making a show of licking his lips to savor every last drop of your essence. The creature on his stomach growls in jealousy, snapping its teeth. "It is... unacceptable." His voice is a ragged rasp. "That something this divine exists..."
“And you assumed it unclean and disgusting. How premature of you. Quite unfortunate.”
He stiffens, your words striking. A thousand years of assuming mortals to be filthy, unclean, unworthy. And yet you, this mortal, tasted yourself so freely, offered yourself so boldly, and made it seem divine.
"I am not-" He stops, breathing hard. "I assumed nothing."
“Do not lie to your wife. It is unfair.”
“Quit that, woman.”
“Hm. Should your second mouth desire a taste as well?”
“Unthinkable. It will not happen.”
The creature on his stomach whimpers, denied.
“Hm. A shame. It has been deprived of such a beautiful taste.”
"Deprived by design." He defends, though his authority is crumbling rapidly. "It eats flesh. Souls. Monsters. It is not permitted..." He trails off, watching your fingers hover dangerously over the snapping mouth.
The creature on his stomach is practically pleading, tongue licking out frantically. You are offering divine nectar to a cursed beast. It is absolute blasphemy. "Do not."
The cursed mouth opens, teeth bared, tongue extended eagerly. You're about to feed your essence to a monster that has never tasted anything pure or clean. Sukuna's heart races with a mix of horror and forbidden excitement. "Woman, don't you dare," he growls. Your fingers continue to approach the mouth, dripping with your essence. The cursed mouth has only ever consumed filth, sorcerers, sacrifices. Never something... divine. Never something that tastes of you. "If you feed it-.”
“Let the poor thing feast.”
“You are wretched. Forgive me…”
Four massive hands yank your legs apart with terrifying force, positioning his second mouth over your dripping heat. The cursed mouth snaps shut over your glistening heat, teeth bared but not biting, just clamping down with hunger. The creature on his stomach is thrashing with pure, unadulterated joy. It’s tongue thrashing, saliva pooling, licking your wetness with a desperate, feral energy.
“You are a vile woman, wife.” He says before he pulls your face to his in a kiss that can only be described as disgusting. It’s messy, wet, and unbelievably loud. His tongue swirls around yours, exploring every inch of your mouth while his other mouth is working vigorously against your clit. Your breath shatters into a desperate cry as the cursed tongue flattens against your clit, dragging upwards with a terrifying, starving pressure. The creature groans low against your heat, the sound vibrating through your entire pelvis. It is messy, relentless, absolutely feral, licking and slurping your wetness like it is the most sacred nectar it has ever tasted.
Your thighs tremble violently, fingers curling into fabric as you try to stay grounded. You’re trying to talk but only incoherent sounds come out. The cursed tongue strokes your most sensitive spot with a cruel rhythm. It drags up your slit slowly, then snaps down, pressing its full tongue onto your core. "H-nnngh..."
“You wanted this wife, now give your mouth back to me.” He leans down instantly, crashing his mouth against yours. He kisses you with the same ferocity as the mouth between your thighs, swallowing your broken moans. The lower mouth never stops, it’s tongue lapping aggressively at your clit.
You are sandwiched between two mouths, and both are set on devouring you.
Your back arches off of the futon, legs shaking uncontrollably as the twin onslaught overwhelns your senses. The cursed mouth buries itself deeper into your clit, tongue swirling with a mind of its own, filthy and insatiable. His mouth dominates yours, tongue pushing past your lips, claiming your mouth as his property.
“I- mhph! I-I’m ! cumming, now- ah- s.. sukuna!”
The cursed mouth snaps down on your clit with perfect pressure just as you cry it out. It’s teeth grazing but not breaking skin, tongue pressing flat and vibrating against your swollen clit. He swallows your scream, kissing you deeper as the creature between your thighs drinks from your pussy like it's receiving holy water.
Your thighs clamp around his waist, useless.
“f..-fuck!! my.. my king, please!”
He watches you come undone. He is enjoying watching you become absolutely helpless between his two mouths. Your thighs quake and squeeze around his waist, but he doesn't stop, doesn’t pull away to give you a break from his second mouth. The cursed mouth keeps drinking, keeps sucking and slurping your release like it's the most precious elixir it's ever tasted. Which it is.
His name falls from your lips in a wrecked sob, back to back to back. As if it is the only name you know.. The cursed mouth does not stop its feeding, its tongue continues working rhythmically, sucking every drop of your release, swirling against your swollen clit with unfathomable greed. Sukuna groans into your mouth, his four hands gripping your thighs bruisingly tight, keeping you open, keeping you vulnerable for him. All that you can speak now, are incomprehensible words. Noises, actually. “Ngh!! hmphhh! no- no more, please, I beg!” He doesn't stop. The cursed mouth latches onto your over sensitive throbbing clit with obscene determination. The tongue rolls against the swollen nub relentlessly. You're shaking uncontrollably, tears leaking from your eyes, body convulsing through waves of pleasure.
"Useless," he growls against your lips, kissing you, engulfing your whimpers.
His four hands suddenly tighten, one hand slipping beneath you to lift your hips higher, forcing you to arch. The mouth sucks and licks with a vicious rhythm, teeth grazing your soft skin as it tries to milk another orgasm from your exhausted body. “Is it too much for you, wife? Is it not what you begged for?” He grins against his ear, licking from your earlobe down to your neck. “It’s.. ahh! I-!”
“You cannot speak can you? Unbelievable. You unravel beneath the creature you so wanted to taste you.”
The cursed mouth releases your clit with a final, wet suck that makes you whimper. He pulls back slowly, lower mouth glistening with your slick.
"Too much?" he repeats. You're drenched, in your own arousal and the creature's excess saliva pooling visibly on your thighs. Your body is still trembling from the aftershocks, your core throbbing and overly sensitive from the merciless, ancient tongue. He stares down at your ruined state. And grins as he looks at you, completely wrecked, trembling, tears staining your cheeks. His chest rises and falls heavily. You lie there, utterly spent and overwhelmed. Sukuna's eyes flicker between your face and your ruined thighs.
"Did I break you already?" He leans down, his voice low and dark with amusement. yet something like tenderness flickers in his gaze. His massive hand cups your overheated cheek, thumb brushing away a tear. “N..no... My king. You will never.”
His thumb stills on your cheek.
"Never?" he repeats, amusement coloring his tone.
“Never, husband. I am here until I am gone.” Your voice is small, and quiet. Your chest still heaving from your orgasm. His thumb presses firmly against your cheek, pushing your face into his palm possessively. "Until you're gone, hm?"
“Until you be rid of me.”
He leans down, his lips brushing your ear. "And if I never intend to?" He murmurs, his voice low and rough, yet terrifyingly sincere.
Your breath hitches in your throat, heart hammering wildly against your ribs. You stare up at him. wide eyed, overwhelmed, lips parted as the weight of his words sinks in. Have you done it? Did you truly tame him? It could not be true. It couldn’t.
"I... you.. aren’t serious," you manage, voice trembling.
"Watch me prove it." He murmurs as he leans down, kissing your forehead with shocking possessiveness. You aren't leaving. Ever. That has been made abundantly clear. You have successfully tamed him. The untamable man.
His four arms shift, pulling you against his massive form. “You will sleep now, wife. In the safety of your kings arms.”
Wk:10.8k. Do not feed my work into AI, post without creds, or steal. ignore any mistakes, it’s 7:30am and I’ve been writing this all night off of little sleep. Had to get it done!!
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