ƝᎬUᎡᏆⲊᏟᎬƝᎢ
(n)sfw jjk blog ✍ 18+ , pro-ai/ai writer. anti-ai dni. requests open.
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@neuriscent
ƝᎬUᎡᏆⲊᏟᎬƝᎢ
(n)sfw jjk blog ✍ 18+ , pro-ai/ai writer. anti-ai dni. requests open.
⋆˚࿔ masterlist / rules - read before interacting. / taglist
˚⟡˖ satoru gojo is a... cat? ˖⟡˚
synopsis : you were minding your own business when all of a sudden a cute cat (or what you thought was a cat) randomly pops through your window one summer's day and decides it doesn't want to leave, the two of you have been inseparable since - fluff
a/n: lowkey inspired by fruits basket, imagine kyo but its gojo instead if you squint.
pairing : satoru gojo x fem!reader (both reader and gojo are in their twenties he's a few years older than reader) ~ wc: 1.5k
part 2>> (out now!!!)
Golden rays bounced off your window onto the walls, giving your room a golden hue. It was finally your day off work so you decided to stop procrastinating and be productive, since the weather was already warming up you decided it was about time to rotate your winter clothing out of your closet and summer clothes in.
Your summer playlist on repeat in the background, trying to distract yourself from this boring ass task, but it was still better than being stuck in the stuffy office.
As you were folding clothes and singing along with the music, you noticed a shadow shift from the corner of your eye. Startled, you quickly turn your head to find a small fluffy cat poking its head through the crack of your window, peeking inside your bedroom.
A pair of white fluffy front paws hook onto the windowsill, pausing for a moment, its piercing blue eyes staring right at you, purring. Your face lights up and instantly drop the sweater you were folding and extend your hand to its face.
“Hi, kitty where did you come from?”
You're ecstatic when the cat in turn sniffs your hand and then rubs its soft cheek against your hand, allowing you to then gently scratch under its cute chin.
“Aww you’re definitely the cutest thing to ever crawl through my window. Maybe I should keep you... I wonder do you have a name?”
The gentle rhythmic sound of his purring filled the room, with a steady hum of comfort.
The feline visitor came to see you everyday, so you started to leave a bowl of milk on your windowsill and cat treats to welcome him each time he paid you a visit. This quickly turned into you spending more and more time together, the two of you soon becoming inseparable. The cat was basically yours at this point, doing everything from napping on your bed, to lazily lying on your chest as you watched tv, or simply following you around the house.
You were lying in bed working on your project, only for your laptop to be quickly replaced by a warm, purring mess on your lap. the kitty was kneading the blanket while slowly closing his sapphire eyes in sheer bliss. You whispered quietly while stroking its fur
“What on earth should I do with you kitty? Surely your owner must be missing you.. I really should make missing posters so we can get you home. even though I don't really want you to go”.
Eventually you doze off with the furball close to your chest keeping you warm.
A few hours later, still half asleep you suddenly feel a warm presence engulfing your body. You swear you feel a muscular arm wrapped around your waist, and two large hands under your oversized tee.
hey neuri!! i am so sorry you've been dealing with all the rude and mean people. you don't deserve that. I just wanted to say, wouldn't it be better if you include an author's note in each fic you post that you use ai? And that they shouldn't interact with you? It can really help you get the audience you want and that actually appreciates you
thank you so much for the kind words and the sweet support, it means a lot after everything that's happened. ❤
i totally get where you're coming from with this suggestion, but i intentionally chose to put all of my transparency info into my pinned post for a reason. i wanted my blog's layout to be clean and organized so people could read the guidelines once, decide if this space is for them, and then just focus on the stories without constant, repetitive disclaimers cluttering every single post.
putting a massive warning on every single piece feels less like curation and more like forcing myself to wear a warning label just to placate people who already don't want me here. my pinned post has all the boundaries and disclosure clearly stated right at the top of my page, and it's up to visitors to read the blog rules before interacting. i want to keep my actual fic posts dedicated purely to the characters and comfort content for the readers who do appreciate being here.
could i just ask how you use ai? do you write it fully yourself and have ai grammar check you or are you unable to type it out fully? just tryna get a better understanding bc you said chronic illness and i know that can lead to major disadvantages
thank you so much for asking this so respectfully, i really appreciate the genuine curiosity.
because of my chronic illness, my cognitive energy and physical stamina fluctuates heavily from day to day. brain fog and severe fatigue make it incredibly difficult to sit down and type out thousands of words or string complex sentences together, even when i have a clear story concept or scene in my head.
my process is highly collaborative. i map out the entire plot, the specific character interactions, and the overall emotional direction of the fic myself. then, i use generative tools to help me draft the paragraphs, refine the pacing, and build out the prose based directly on my outlines and notes. it acts as an executive function aid—it does the heavy lifting of translating my ideas into text when my brain and body simply cannot find the words.
i know it’s a non-traditional way to create, but it’s the only way i can realistically participate in a hobby i love without completely draining my health. i hope this helps clarify things a bit.
i didn’t want to have to make a massive post like this, but the level of targeted harassment, bad-faith interpretations, and pure entitlement flooding my dashboard over the last few days has become completely impossible to ignore. i started this blog as a newer creator with a very simple goal: to find a quiet, comfortable space to share my love for this fandom and express my creativity through a process that works for me. i never forced anyone to read my content, i never spammed anyone's tags, and from day one, i did something almost no one else in this community does—i was completely transparent about using assistive ai technology in my writing.
yet, instead of people simply curating their own digital spaces and scrolling away if my methods didn't align with their personal philosophies, a coordinated group of prominent blogs decided to turn my presence here into a public circus. you are coming directly into my comments, onto my fics, and into my inbox to preach your savior complexes, call me talentless, and project your existential anxieties onto a blog that is trying to exist peacefully. let me be unequivocally clear: this is my space. it is not yours. you do not own the fandom, you do not own the right to dictate how another human being copes with their creative process, and if you cannot respect my boundaries, you will be blocked instantly.
what is genuinely frying my mind about this entire situation is the sheer, unadulterated hypocrisy of it all. just a couple of days ago, the anonymous ask boxes on this dashboard were filled with people admitting—in complete bewilderment—that they had absolutely no idea my work used ai until they read my pinned post. they openly admitted that the prose was human, that it resonated with them, and that it passed their personal standards of good writing.
lets look at the broader reality of fandom spaces right now. there are countless writers, artists, and creators currently operating on your dashboards who use generative ai tools to assist with their outlines, their pacing, their grammar, or their drafting. the only difference between me and them is that they lie to you. they stay silent because they are terrified of the exact kind of performative, hyper-aggressive witch hunt that you are putting me through right now.
my blog is the living, breathing example of why transparency in creative spaces is dying. you all love to scream about wanting "honesty" and "ethical behavior" from creators, but the very second a disabled, chronically ill writer gives you 100% radical transparency about their assistive tools, you weaponize it to tear them down. you throw derogatory sci-fi slurs around, pick apart their diagnoses, and try to isolate them from the community. you are actively teaching every closeted ai-assisted writer in this fandom that honesty will get them publicly lynched, while lying to your faces will keep them safe and praised. you aren't "saving art"—you are just creating a toxic culture where people are forced to lie to protect their mental peace.
for a community that constantly claims to be inclusive, progressive, and deeply empathetic to marginalized voices, the mask completely slipped the moment technology entered the conversation. i have seen other neurodivergent and disabled blogs try to speak over me, claiming that because they have the physical or mental capacity to sit at a desk for twelve hours straight drafting a story from scratch, my chronic exhaustion and neurodivergence don't excuse my process.
that is a deeply exclusionary, ableist mindset. disability and chronic illness are not a monolith. the tools that i use act as a cognitive prosthetic to help me bridge the gap when my executive dysfunction and physical fatigue make traditional labor impossible. for you to decide which tools are "acceptable" (like spellcheck or automated editors) and which tools make someone "lazy" is pure gatekeeping. demanding that every single person meet your exact, arbitrary standards of physical and mental suffering just to "earn" the right to share a fanfiction is disgusting. you do not get to dictate how i accommodate my own mind and body.
let’s actually address the grand ethical crusade you all think you are fighting. you are writing essays in my tags about environmental costs, data scraping, and the "death of human vulnerability." let’s be completely real for a second: this is a hobby space where we write transformative fiction about fictional anime characters for zero dollars. no one is making a profit here. no one is stealing anyone's livelihood. my tiny blog using a machine to help shape a domestic comfort fic is not destroying the fabric of human society, nor is it harming the original creators of the source material.
the internet is vast. there are millions of traditional, purely human-written fics available at your fingertips. if you do not like generative text, you have every single tool available to avoid it. you can filter tags, you can block my username, and you can curate a dashboard that is entirely free of ai.
but you aren't doing that. instead, you are willfully clicking onto my profile, bypassing my pinned warnings, violating my explicitly stated dni list, and entering my space to harass me. me existing here does not hurt you. me posting an image or a short story does not take away from your own creative journey. you are choosing to be miserable, and you are choosing to bring that misery directly to a small creator's doorstep because it gives you a temporary sense of moral superiority.
i did not invite the antis to this blog, and i am under absolutely no obligation to host your bad-faith debates or endure your savior complexes in my comment section. from this point forward, i am going to ruthlessly abuse the block button.
if you comment on my fics to attack my character, you are blocked. if you violate my dni to leave passive-aggressive tags on my posts, you are blocked. if you are more interested in playing the internet ethics police than allowing a disabled creator to exist in peace, you are gone.
to the people who have sent kind messages, who have interacted with the stories for what they are, and who have respected my boundaries—thank you. you are the reason this blog is staying up. i am going to keep writing, i am going to keep posting, and i am going to keep running this blog exactly the way i want to. if that makes you mad, save your breath and block me first.
satoru’s special study method
you’d been bombing chemistry ii so badly that your professor practically begged you to get a tutor. that’s how satoru gojo ended up in your apartment for the fourth time this week—tall, white-haired, stupidly pretty nerd with black-rimmed glasses and a button-up shirt that was always tucked in perfectly. he was top of his class, president of the science club, and painfully awkward when you flirted with him.
but you were persistent.
after the first two sessions where you pouted, batted your lashes, and “accidentally” brushed your tits against his arm while leaning over the textbook, he’d started blushing. by the third session you’d convinced him that you learned better when you were “relaxed.” tonight, you finally broke him.
“satoru… please?” you whined, sitting on the edge of your kitchen table in your tiniest pink skirt and a tight little crop top. “i’m never gonna remember this stuff. my brain just goes all fuzzy. but i bet if you… helped me feel it, it would stick way better.”
gojo’s cheeks were already flushed pink behind his glasses. he pushed them up the bridge of his nose, eyes darting between your face and the way your thighs were pressed together.
“t-that’s… that’s not how studying works,” he muttered, voice cracking slightly. his fingers tightened around the flashcard deck. “i’m supposed to be tutoring you, not—that.”
you leaned forward, letting your top ride up higher. “but toru… you’re so smart. don’t you want me to pass? i’ll be really good. every right answer, you get to fuck me deeper. i’ll even say all the formulas out loud while you’re inside me. pretty please?”
he swallowed hard, adam’s apple bobbing. you could see the obvious bulge in his slacks. after a long, flustered pause, he exhaled shakily.
“…fine. but just this once. and only because your last quiz was… abysmal.”
that was ten minutes ago.
now you’re bent over the same kitchen table, skirt flipped up around your waist, thong pulled to the side as satoru stands behind you. his hands are trembling slightly as he grips your hips, his thick cock nudging against your soaked entrance.
“first question,” he mutters, trying to sound professional even as his voice wavers. “define ph.”
you wiggle back against him, arching your back. “ph is… minus log of hydrogen ion concentration?”
gojo lets out a shaky breath and pushes in—slow, careful, like he still can’t believe this is happening. the stretch makes you moan loudly. he’s bigger than you expected, and the way he fills you so perfectly has your toes curling.
“good… that’s correct,” he whispers, cheeks burning crimson. he bottoms out with a broken groan, forehead dropping against your shoulder. “fuck… you’re so warm. this is— this is insane. i shouldn’t be doing this…”
“but it feels good, right, toru?” you coo, squeezing around him.
he whimpers—actually whimpers—and starts moving, shallow, flustered thrusts at first. “yeah… yeah it does. okay, next. henderson-hasselbalch equation. recite it.”
you’re already panting as he picks up rhythm. “ph = pka + log… of base over acid— ahh, satoru!”
“fuck— correct,” he groans, hips snapping harder. his glasses keep slipping down his nose. every time you get an answer right he rewards you with a deeper thrust, but he’s still so endearingly nervous—muttering little nerdy facts under his breath like it’ll ground him.
“le chatelier’s principle,” he asks, voice strained, one hand sliding up your back.
you moan, pushing back to meet his thrusts. “if a system at equilibrium is disturbed… it shifts to counteract the change— toru, you’re so deep!”
he makes a choked noise and starts fucking you faster, losing some of that shy control. “you’re doing so well. i can’t believe i let you talk me into this. you’re such a brat, you know that?”
you giggle breathlessly, then gasp as he hits that perfect spot. “but you like it… don’t you, satoru?”
he doesn’t answer with words—just a broken moan as he leans over you, chest pressed to your back, white hair tickling your shoulder. one hand reaches around to rub clumsy circles on your clit while the other holds up a flashcard.
“ideal gas law. now. or i’ll stop,” he threatens, though his hips never slow down.
“pv = nrt— oh my god, right there, toru— i’m gonna cum!”
his thrusts turn erratic, glasses completely fogged up. “don’t stop reciting. boyle’s law— fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight—”
you’re sobbing with pleasure, brain melting as you force the answers out between moans. every correct response makes him whimper and fuck you harder, like your smart little answers are turning him on just as much as your tight pussy.
when you finally cum, crying out his name and gushing around his cock, satoru pulls out at the last second with a strangled groan. hot ropes of cum splash across your ass and lower back as he strokes himself through it, panting hard.
he’s quiet for a moment afterward, breathing ragged, face bright red. then he gently tugs your skirt back down and helps you sit on the table, avoiding your eyes.
“i can’t believe we just did that,” he mumbles, adjusting his glasses with shaky fingers. “this was supposed to be professional tutoring. you’re going to get me in so much trouble.”
you smile sweetly and pull him in by his shirt for a kiss, tasting his nervousness. he melts into it anyway.
when you pull back, you bat your lashes. “same time tomorrow, toru? we still have to cover reaction mechanisms… and i really need help with nomenclature.”
he stares at you, flushed and disheveled, then lets out a defeated little laugh.
“…yeah. okay. but next time i’m bringing my own flashcards. and maybe… maybe we can do it on the couch instead. the table’s kind of… hard on my back.”
you giggle and kiss his burning cheek.
“whatever you want, nerd. as long as you keep fucking the chemistry into me.”
accidentally baby trapping satoru while riding him
the room is thick with the smell of sex and sweat. gojo is sprawled beneath you on the ruined sheets, his usual infinity long gone, silver hair sticking to his damp forehead. his chest rises and falls rapidly, pale skin flushed pink all the way down to the sharp v of his hips. you’ve already made him cum once, but you never stopped riding him. now he’s overstimulated, cock still rock-hard and throbbing inside your soaked pussy, every drag of your walls making him twitch and curse.
“fuck—baby, slow down,” he groans, voice hoarse and broken. his fingers dig bruises into your hips as you grind down on him again, taking every inch until his tip kisses your cervix. “i’m too sensitive—shit— you’re gonna kill me.”
you’re not listening. not really. your own orgasm is already building again, hot and vicious, your clit grinding against his pelvis with every roll of your hips. you’re dripping down his cock, creamy white streaks of both your releases coating his shaft and dripping onto his balls. the wet, filthy sounds echo with every bounce.
“you feel so fucking good, satoru…” you whimper, bracing your hands on his abs and lifting yourself until only his flushed tip is inside you, then slamming back down hard. his cock stretches you so perfectly, thick and veiny, pulsing against your walls like it was made for you.
gojo’s head tips back, white lashes fluttering, mouth open in a silent moan. “princess—ahh—fuck, i’m serious. i’m gonna cum again if you keep—ngh—keep squeezing me like that.” his abs tense under your palms, hips jerking up involuntarily to meet your rhythm.
you lean forward, pressing your tits against his chest, and start riding him faster. the new angle makes his cock drag right over that spongy spot inside you with every thrust. your pussy flutters and clenches greedily around him, milking his overstimulated length without mercy.
“shit—wait, baby—slow— i’m close again,” he gasps, voice cracking. his hands slide up your back, then back down to grip your ass, trying to control your pace. “you gotta pull off— i can’t— fuck, i’m gonna cum inside if you don’t—pull out—!”
the words barely register. everything feels too good. his cock is swelling even thicker inside you, twitching wildly, the heat of him overwhelming. your thighs burn, your clit throbs, and another orgasm is rushing up on you like a freight train. instead of lifting off, you grind down harder, rolling your hips in tight circles so his cock stirs deep in your pussy.
you cum with a broken cry, walls clamping down around him like a vice. your cunt spasms violently, rhythmic pulses squeezing and fluttering around his cock as pleasure whites out your vision. gojo chokes on a moan, hips stuttering up into you.
“fuck— no, wait— i’m cumming— i’m—!”
he tries to pull you off at the last second, but your thighs lock tight around his waist, keeping him buried to the hilt. thick, hot ropes of cum flood deep inside you as he cums harder than the first time. pulse after heavy pulse, his cock jerking and spurting against your cervix while your pussy keeps milking him through your own orgasm. you don’t stop moving—riding him through it in sloppy, desperate strokes, prolonging both your highs until his cum is leaking out around his cock with every bounce.
gojo’s eyes roll back, a wrecked, broken sound leaving his throat as you keep fucking yourself on his oversensitive dick. “too much—fuck— you’re still going—hah— you little menace…”
only when your orgasm finally ebbs do you collapse onto his chest, both of you panting, trembling, and covered in sweat. his cock is still buried deep in your cum-stuffed pussy, twitching weakly with aftershocks. you can feel how full you are—his warm seed sloshing inside you with every tiny shift of your hips.
gojo lets out a breathless, slightly delirious laugh, wrapping his strong arms around you and holding you flush against him. one hand slides down to press firmly on your lower belly, right where his cum is settled deep.
“you… you didn’t pull off,” he murmurs against your hair, voice rough and sex-drunk. there’s a dark, possessive edge beneath the amusement. “i told you to pull out and you just rode me harder. greedy girl.”
you hide your flushed face in his neck, smiling against his skin as you give one slow, lazy roll of your hips. his cock twitches inside you again, pushing more of his cum deeper.
“oops,” you whisper, clenching around him on purpose.
gojo groans, hips bucking up weakly. “yeah… real convincing ‘oops.’” he kisses the top of your head, then tilts your chin up so he can claim your mouth in a messy, tongue-heavy kiss. when he pulls back, his blue eyes are half-lidded and hungry. “guess you baby-trapped me, huh? fuck… why is that so hot?”
his hand rubs slow circles over your belly. you can feel his cock starting to harden again inside your messy, cum-filled cunt.
“you’re not going anywhere,” he says, voice dropping lower as he starts rocking up into you again, slow and deep. “not until i fill you up at least one more time. since we’re already making a mess… might as well commit.”
you moan softly, already moving with him.
looks like you’re keeping every single drop tonight.
JJK 90'S
(created by AI)
as much as i don’t agree with the usage of ai, i’m glad you were upfront about it. i bet some of these top jjk writers probably use it too, but they’re obviously not gonna admit it due to the criticism they might receive 💀
thank you. i have it stated on my pinned post for a reason—i'm aware people might want to avoid my content.
welcome to neuriscent. this is a personal, transformative space dedicated to sharing comfort fiction, creative concepts, and fandom passion. to ensure this space remains comfortable and respectful for everyone, please review the guidelines below before interacting.
1. content & process transparency
this blog focuses on creating transformative works, moodboards, and creative concepts within the fandom space. transparency is a core value here. assistive ai technology is utilized as a cognitive prosthetic and creative tool to help manage drafting, pacing, and executive dysfunction due to chronic illness and neurodivergence. if this process or the use of generative tools does not align with your personal preferences, please utilize the platform's filtering options or unfollow/block to curate your dashboard accordingly.
2. do not interact (dni) criteria
this blog maintains a strict dni list to preserve a safe and welcoming environment. do not interact if:
you engage in harassment, cyberbullying, or targeted call-out campaigns against individual creators. you hold exclusionary or ableist views regarding how disabled or neurodivergent individuals accommodate their creative processes. you intend to bring bad-faith arguments, discourse, or hostility into the comment sections or ask box.
3. interaction & community boundaries
comment section: constructive engagement and community appreciation are always welcome. malicious comments, personal attacks, or aggressive behavior will be deleted immediately, and the accounts responsible will be blocked.
the ask box: requests and prompts are welcome when open. please keep submissions respectful and aligned with the blog's content focus. hate anonymous messages or bad-faith inquiries will be deleted quietly without public engagement. boundary enforcement: the block button will be used freely and without explanation to maintain the peace and comfort of this digital space.
i didn’t want to have to make a massive post like this, but the level of targeted harassment, bad-faith interpretations, and pure entitlement flooding my dashboard over the last few days has become completely impossible to ignore. i started this blog as a newer creator with a very simple goal: to find a quiet, comfortable space to share my love for this fandom and express my creativity through a process that works for me. i never forced anyone to read my content, i never spammed anyone's tags, and from day one, i did something almost no one else in this community does—i was completely transparent about using assistive ai technology in my writing.
yet, instead of people simply curating their own digital spaces and scrolling away if my methods didn't align with their personal philosophies, a coordinated group of prominent blogs decided to turn my presence here into a public circus. you are coming directly into my comments, onto my fics, and into my inbox to preach your savior complexes, call me talentless, and project your existential anxieties onto a blog that is trying to exist peacefully. let me be unequivocally clear: this is my space. it is not yours. you do not own the fandom, you do not own the right to dictate how another human being copes with their creative process, and if you cannot respect my boundaries, you will be blocked instantly.
what is genuinely frying my mind about this entire situation is the sheer, unadulterated hypocrisy of it all. just a couple of days ago, the anonymous ask boxes on this dashboard were filled with people admitting—in complete bewilderment—that they had absolutely no idea my work used ai until they read my pinned post. they openly admitted that the prose was human, that it resonated with them, and that it passed their personal standards of good writing.
lets look at the broader reality of fandom spaces right now. there are countless writers, artists, and creators currently operating on your dashboards who use generative ai tools to assist with their outlines, their pacing, their grammar, or their drafting. the only difference between me and them is that they lie to you. they stay silent because they are terrified of the exact kind of performative, hyper-aggressive witch hunt that you are putting me through right now.
my blog is the living, breathing example of why transparency in creative spaces is dying. you all love to scream about wanting "honesty" and "ethical behavior" from creators, but the very second a disabled, chronically ill writer gives you 100% radical transparency about their assistive tools, you weaponize it to tear them down. you throw derogatory sci-fi slurs around, pick apart their diagnoses, and try to isolate them from the community. you are actively teaching every closeted ai-assisted writer in this fandom that honesty will get them publicly lynched, while lying to your faces will keep them safe and praised. you aren't "saving art"—you are just creating a toxic culture where people are forced to lie to protect their mental peace.
for a community that constantly claims to be inclusive, progressive, and deeply empathetic to marginalized voices, the mask completely slipped the moment technology entered the conversation. i have seen other neurodivergent and disabled blogs try to speak over me, claiming that because they have the physical or mental capacity to sit at a desk for twelve hours straight drafting a story from scratch, my chronic exhaustion and neurodivergence don't excuse my process.
that is a deeply exclusionary, ableist mindset. disability and chronic illness are not a monolith. the tools that i use act as a cognitive prosthetic to help me bridge the gap when my executive dysfunction and physical fatigue make traditional labor impossible. for you to decide which tools are "acceptable" (like spellcheck or automated editors) and which tools make someone "lazy" is pure gatekeeping. demanding that every single person meet your exact, arbitrary standards of physical and mental suffering just to "earn" the right to share a fanfiction is disgusting. you do not get to dictate how i accommodate my own mind and body.
let’s actually address the grand ethical crusade you all think you are fighting. you are writing essays in my tags about environmental costs, data scraping, and the "death of human vulnerability." let’s be completely real for a second: this is a hobby space where we write transformative fiction about fictional anime characters for zero dollars. no one is making a profit here. no one is stealing anyone's livelihood. my tiny blog using a machine to help shape a domestic comfort fic is not destroying the fabric of human society, nor is it harming the original creators of the source material.
the internet is vast. there are millions of traditional, purely human-written fics available at your fingertips. if you do not like generative text, you have every single tool available to avoid it. you can filter tags, you can block my username, and you can curate a dashboard that is entirely free of ai.
but you aren't doing that. instead, you are willfully clicking onto my profile, bypassing my pinned warnings, violating my explicitly stated dni list, and entering my space to harass me. me existing here does not hurt you. me posting an image or a short story does not take away from your own creative journey. you are choosing to be miserable, and you are choosing to bring that misery directly to a small creator's doorstep because it gives you a temporary sense of moral superiority.
i did not invite the antis to this blog, and i am under absolutely no obligation to host your bad-faith debates or endure your savior complexes in my comment section. from this point forward, i am going to ruthlessly abuse the block button.
if you comment on my fics to attack my character, you are blocked. if you violate my dni to leave passive-aggressive tags on my posts, you are blocked. if you are more interested in playing the internet ethics police than allowing a disabled creator to exist in peace, you are gone.
to the people who have sent kind messages, who have interacted with the stories for what they are, and who have respected my boundaries—thank you. you are the reason this blog is staying up. i am going to keep writing, i am going to keep posting, and i am going to keep running this blog exactly the way i want to. if that makes you mad, save your breath and block me first.
cooking date with satoru!
the kitchen smelled like garlic, fresh basil, and the faint sweetness of the dessert gojo had already snuck a taste of twice.
“oi, that’s for later,” you scolded, swatting his hand away from the bowl of mascarpone cream.
gojo leaned against the counter with that infuriatingly handsome grin, blindfold pushed up into his snowy hair like a headband. his black button-up was half-unbuttoned and sleeves rolled high, exposing toned forearms dusted with a little flour. he looked illegally good for someone who was supposed to be helping.
“but i’m quality testing, baby,” he said, licking the spoon with deliberate slowness. “can’t serve my favorite person anything less than perfect.”
you rolled your eyes, fighting the smile tugging at your lips as you stirred the risotto on the stove. “you’re just impatient.”
“starving,” he corrected, sliding behind you and wrapping his long arms around your waist. his chin dropped onto your shoulder, warm breath tickling your neck. “for food… and other things.”
the way his voice dropped on that last part made heat crawl up your cheeks.
“focus, satoru. the rice is going to burn if you keep distracting me.”
he hummed, pressing a lazy kiss just below your ear. “worth it.”
despite his complaints, he actually helped—mostly. he was surprisingly decent at chopping vegetables (with infinity off, of course), though he kept stealing cherry tomatoes and flicking them into your mouth when you least expected it. one time he missed on purpose just so he could “feed it to you properly,” which involved tilting your chin up and popping it past your lips with his fingers.
you retaliated by flicking pasta water at him.
he gasped dramatically. “treason! after i agreed to a domestic date like a good boyfriend.”
“you begged for this date,” you reminded him, laughing as you plated the creamy mushroom risotto.
gojo’s arms came around you again, this time pulling you fully against his chest as he looked down at the two plates.
“looks almost as good as you,” he murmured.
you turned in his arms, looping yours around his neck. “flattery will get you extra dessert.”
his bright blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “and if i behave really well?”
you rose up on your toes and kissed the corner of his mouth. “then maybe we can burn the tiramisu and do something else instead.”
gojo’s grin turned wolfish. “now that’s a plan i can get behind.”
he kissed you properly then—slow and sweet at first, then deeper, tasting faintly of sugar and the wine you’d been sipping. the food sat forgotten on the counter for a long moment while his hands wandered down your sides, pulling you closer.
when you finally broke apart, both a little breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.
“best cooking date ever,” he whispered. “even if we almost burned the kitchen down.”
you laughed softly. “we haven’t even eaten yet.”
“details.” he stole one more quick kiss. “c’mon, pretty. let’s eat before i decide dessert comes first.”
the two of you ended up sitting on the kitchen island instead of the table, legs swinging, feeding each other bites between laughter and teasing. gojo’s foot hooked around your ankle the whole time, like he couldn’t stand even a few inches of distance.
and later, when the tiramisu was half-eaten and you were both covered in cocoa powder from yet another playful food fight, he looked at you with that rare soft expression he only ever wore when he thought you weren’t watching.
“i could get used to this,” he said quietly, thumb brushing a streak of cream from your cheek. “you. me. no curses. just… normal stuff.”
you leaned into his touch. “we’re far from normal, satoru.”
he smiled, bright and genuine. “yeah. but with you? i don’t mind pretending for a night.”
then he kissed you again, tasting like mascarpone, chocolate, and forever.
slit ur wrists
I'll be passing on this, but thanks. 👏
gojo's party whore
the first mistake you made tonight was wearing this dress. its silky surface hugged your features like wrapping paper on gifts—your ass and tits nearly straining against the garment in protest. there were several openings that displayed the skin underneath, especially around the chest area. the deep v-neck plunged dangerously low, the thin straps barely holding everything in place, and the high slits on both sides flashed your thighs with every step. you knew it was risky. you wore it anyway.
the second mistake was showing up to this party at all.
you told yourself it had nothing to do with him. it was a mutual friend’s birthday—neutral ground. you hadn’t seen satoru gojo in almost two months since the messy breakup, and you were finally starting to feel like yourself again. or so you thought.
the moment you stepped into the crowded penthouse, the bass-heavy music vibrating through your heels, you felt it. that unmistakable prickle on the back of your neck. someone was watching you. no—not someone. him.
you didn’t have to look to know. you could feel those icy blue eyes dragging over every inch of exposed skin like a slow, possessive touch.
you headed straight for the open bar, pretending you hadn’t noticed. maybe if you ignored him long enough, he’d find some other girl to entertain himself with. but satoru gojo had never been one to be ignored.
you ordered a drink, fingers tapping nervously on the counter while the bartender worked. the cool air brushed against the exposed curve of your breasts, making your nipples tighten against the thin silk. you cursed yourself for not wearing a bra. the dress didn’t allow it.
a familiar scent—clean, expensive, dangerously intoxicating—hit you before his voice did.
“bold choice.”
his low, teasing tone slid right down your spine. gojo leaned against the bar beside you, close enough that his arm brushed yours. he looked unfairly good in a half-unbuttoned black shirt that showed off the hard lines of his chest, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. his white hair was messily perfect, and that signature smirk played on his lips as his gaze shamelessly raked down your body.
“trying to get fucked tonight, princess?” he asked casually, like he was commenting on the weather. “because that dress is screaming for attention. your tits are practically falling out just so every guy here can imagine sucking on them.”
heat flooded your face. you gripped your drink tighter. “fuck off, satoru. i didn’t come here for you.”
he chuckled, low and dark, stepping closer until his chest nearly pressed against your shoulder. “no? then why wear something that makes you look like a desperate little slut? look at you…” his eyes dropped to your chest again, lingering on the deep cleavage. “one wrong move and those pretty nipples are gonna be on full display for the whole party. is that what you want? everyone staring at what used to be mine?”
you hated how your body reacted—thighs pressing together, a traitorous warmth blooming low in your belly. he always knew exactly what to say to unravel you.
“i’m not yours anymore,” you shot back, trying to sound steady.
gojo’s smirk widened. he reached out, bold as ever, and ran a single finger along the edge of the slit in your dress, brushing the bare skin of your thigh. “that’s cute. you can say that all you want, but your body still remembers who it belongs to.” his voice dropped even lower. “bet you’re already getting wet just from me looking at you. pathetic.”
you swallowed hard, glancing around. a few people were watching—curious glances, knowing smirks. everyone knew about your history with gojo. being seen with him like this already felt dangerous.
he noticed your nervousness and laughed softly. “what’s wrong? scared people will see how easily you fall apart for me?” he leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “or scared they’ll realize you came here dressed like a cheap whore hoping i’d notice and drag you off somewhere to ruin you?”
your breath hitched. his hand was still on your thigh, fingers slipping just under the fabric, teasing the sensitive skin there. not quite touching where you suddenly ached for him, but close enough to make you shift restlessly.
“satoru…” you warned, but it came out breathy instead of firm.
he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. “come on. dance with me. or are you too scared you’ll start grinding on my thigh like the needy slut i know you are?”
you should have said no. you should have walked away.
instead, you let him take your drink and set it down. his large hand settled possessively on your lower back—dangerously low—as he guided you toward the crowded dance floor. the moment you reached the mass of bodies, he pulled you flush against him, one thigh sliding between yours.
the music was loud, pulsing. gojo moved with that infuriating grace, rolling his hips against you while his hands roamed. one stayed on your ass, squeezing the soft flesh through the silk and pulling you tighter so you could feel the growing hardness in his pants pressing against your stomach.
“feel that?” he murmured against your neck, lips grazing your skin. “that’s what you do to me, even when you’re being a brat. walking around with your ass and tits out like you’re free use for the whole party.” his grip tightened, fingers digging in. “but we both know no one else gets to touch this, right?”
you bit your lip to hold back a whimper as he ground his thigh up against your core. the friction against your panties made your clit throb. the dress had ridden up dangerously high on your legs from the way he was holding you.
people were definitely watching now. gojo didn’t care. he never did.
he spun you around suddenly, pulling your back against his chest. one arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand boldly cupped the underside of your breast, thumb brushing over your hardened nipple through the thin fabric. you gasped, trying to pull away, but he held you tighter.
“shh. let them look,” he whispered hotly in your ear. “let them see what a slut my ex is. bet half the guys here are hard watching your tits bounce while you rub yourself on me like a bitch in heat.”
your face burned with shame and arousal. you hated how right he was—how soaked you already were, how your hips kept moving against him on their own.
gojo’s lips pressed against the side of your neck, sucking lightly. “tell me you’re not dripping right now and i’ll leave you alone.”
you couldn’t. because you were. embarrassingly so.
he laughed when you stayed silent, the sound vibrating against your skin. “that’s what i thought.” his hand slid lower, fingers teasing the edge of the dress slit again, inching higher. “how about we take this somewhere more private? unless you want me to bend you over right here and show everyone exactly who this greedy little pussy still creams for.”
your heart hammered wildly. you knew you should push him away.
but as his fingers brushed dangerously close to your soaked core in the middle of the crowded dance floor, all you could do was shiver and lean back into his chest.
this was a mistake.
and you were about to make an even bigger one.
his fingers were already teasing the edge of your soaked panties right there on the dance floor when you finally broke.
“fine,” you whispered, voice shaking. “somewhere private.”
gojo’s smirk was victorious. he didn’t even bother hiding it. he grabbed your wrist and pulled you through the crowd like he owned both you and the entire penthouse. a few people whistled. someone laughed. you kept your head down, cheeks burning, but your pussy throbbed with every step.
he dragged you down a dimly lit hallway, away from the main party. the bass still thumped through the walls, but it was quieter here. more dangerous. gojo shoved open an unlocked door to what looked like a guest bedroom and pulled you inside, locking it behind him.
the second the door clicked shut, he was on you.
he slammed you against the wall, crashing his mouth into yours in a filthy, possessive kiss. his tongue invaded immediately, claiming every inch like he was reminding you who taught your body how to crave this.
“second mistake,” he growled against your lips, biting the bottom one hard enough to make you whimper. “was thinking you could wear this slutty little dress and i wouldn’t ruin you in it.”
his hands were everywhere. one yanked the thin straps of your dress down your shoulders, letting your tits spill free. the cool air hit your hardened nipples before his large palms covered them, squeezing roughly.
“fuck, look at these,” he groaned, staring down at your chest with dark hunger. “barely covered all night. you wanted everyone staring at your tits, didn’t you? walking around like a cheap party whore hoping someone would notice how desperate you are.”
“satoru—” you gasped as he pinched both nipples hard, twisting them.
“shut up.” he slapped the side of your breast lightly, watching it jiggle. “you don’t get to say my name all sweet after dressing like this for anyone with a pulse to see.”
he dropped his head and sucked one nipple into his mouth, biting down before soothing it with his tongue. his other hand shoved through the high slit of your dress and straight into your panties. two long fingers slid through your folds and pushed inside you without warning.
“shit,” he laughed against your tit, the sound cruel and delighted. “you’re fucking soaked. dripping down your thighs already. all from me calling you a slut on the dance floor?” he curled his fingers hard, hitting that spot that made your knees buckle. “pathetic. my ex is such an easy little cockslut.”
you moaned loudly, hips grinding shamelessly against his hand. gojo added a third finger, stretching you open while his palm rubbed your swollen clit.
“look at you,” he mocked, pulling back to watch your face. “mouth open, tits out, riding my fingers like a bitch in heat. did you miss this? or are you really so fucking desperate that any attention makes you this wet?”
he suddenly pulled his fingers out and shoved them into your mouth.
“taste how pathetic you are.”
you sucked obediently, eyes glassy, tasting yourself on his skin. gojo watched with hooded eyes, his cock straining hard against his pants.
“good girl,” he praised mockingly. “at least your mouth still knows how to behave.”
he spun you around fast, pressing your chest against the wall. your tits squished against the cool surface as he yanked your dress up over your ass. he ripped your panties down in one motion, letting them hang around one ankle.
“arch your back,” he ordered, kicking your legs apart. “show me that greedy hole.”
you obeyed, pushing your ass out toward him. gojo groaned at the sight, palming your ass cheeks and spreading them.
“still so fucking pretty. and so fucking sloppy.” he slapped your pussy lightly, making you jolt. “this is why you wore the dress, isn’t it? you wanted me to drag you off and treat you like the dirty little slut you are.”
you heard his zipper. then the thick, hot head of his cock was sliding through your folds, teasing your entrance.
“beg,” he demanded, voice rough. “beg for the cock you’ve been missing.”
“please, satoru…” your voice cracked with need. “please fuck me. i need it—need your cock so bad.”
he laughed darkly. “of course you do.”
in one brutal thrust, he buried himself balls-deep inside you.
you cried out at the sudden stretch, the overwhelming fullness. gojo didn’t wait. he started pounding into you hard and fast, hips slapping loudly against your ass with every thrust.
“fuck—yes,” he groaned, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “still so tight for me. this pussy never forgot who it belongs to, did it?”
every deep stroke made your tits rub against the wall. the silk of your dress bunched uselessly around your waist as he railed you.
“you’re such a fucking whore,” he panted, one hand fisting your hair and yanking your head back. “dressing like that. letting me finger you on the dance floor. now you’re bent over and creaming on my cock like a cheap fucktoy. bet you’d let the whole party watch if i wanted.”
you clenched hard around him at his words, shame and arousal twisting together until you couldn’t think straight.
gojo felt it. he laughed breathlessly.
“oh? you like that? you want them to see what a sloppy, cock-drunk slut you really are?” he reached around and rubbed your clit roughly. “cum then. cum on the cock of the man you swore you were done with.”
you shattered.
your orgasm hit you like a freight train, thighs shaking as you came hard around his thick cock, soaking his balls and dripping down your legs. gojo fucked you through it, relentless, chasing his own release.
“that’s it—good little slut,” he growled. “milk my cock just like that.”
he slammed in deep a few more times before burying himself to the hilt and spilling inside you with a low, filthy groan. you felt every pulse, every hot spurt filling you up.
for a moment, the only sounds were your heavy breathing and the distant bass from the party.
gojo stayed buried inside you, leaning over your back. his lips brushed your ear.
“third mistake,” he whispered, voice dark with promise, “was thinking i’d let you leave this room with my cum still leaking down your thighs… we’re nowhere near done, princess.”
he pulled out slowly, watching his cum drip from your abused pussy with a satisfied smirk.
“on the bed. lose the dress. we still have all night to remind you exactly who you belong to.”
you didn’t even hesitate.
your hands shook as you pushed the ruined dress the rest of the way down your body, letting it pool at your feet. gojo watched with dark, hungry eyes while you climbed onto the bed, completely naked except for the heels still strapped to your feet. his cum was already leaking down your inner thighs, but he didn’t seem satisfied. not even close.
“on your back,” he ordered, voice low and rough. “legs spread. show me that sloppy, used cunt.”
you obeyed, lying back against the soft sheets and parting your thighs. the cool air hit your dripping pussy, making you shiver. gojo stood at the edge of the bed, slowly stroking his cock. it was still hard, glistening with your juices and his own release.
“look at you,” he laughed softly, eyes raking over your body. “tits out, legs open, my cum leaking out of you like a cheap whore. this is what you wanted the second you put that slutty dress on, isn’t it? parading your ass and tits around just so i’d fuck you stupid.”
he crawled onto the bed, settling between your spread legs. instead of fucking you right away, he slapped his heavy cock against your sensitive clit a few times, making you jolt and whimper.
“pathetic,” he murmured. “already twitching for more. you really are just a greedy little cumdump for me.”
gojo pushed your knees back toward your chest, folding you in half. the new position left you completely exposed. he leaned down and spit directly on your pussy before rubbing the head of his cock through the mess.
“you know what the worst part is?” he asked, slowly sinking back inside you. you moaned loudly at the stretch. “you act like you’re done with me, but the second i call you a slut, this pussy starts dripping like a faucet.”
he started thrusting hard, deep strokes that made the bed creak. every thrust pushed his previous load deeper inside you, the wet, filthy sounds echoing in the room. your tits bounced with every slam of his hips.
“fuck—satoru—”
“shut the fuck up,” he growled, slapping your tit hard enough to leave a faint red mark. “you don’t speak unless it’s begging. understood?”
you nodded frantically, biting your lip to keep quiet. gojo smirked and rewarded you by rubbing tight circles on your clit while he fucked you.
“good girl. see? you can listen when you want this cock bad enough.” he leaned closer, voice dropping into a cruel whisper. “bet everyone at the party knows what we’re doing in here. they probably heard you moaning like a bitch when i first shoved it in. you like that? knowing they all know you’re just my desperate ex-slut getting her brains fucked out?”
the dirty words made you clench hard around him. gojo groaned at the feeling and picked up speed, pounding you mercilessly. your second orgasm hit without warning, ripping through you so hard your vision blurred. you cried out, thighs shaking violently as you came all over his cock again.
“that’s fucking right,” he laughed breathlessly. “cum like the filthy slut you are. make a mess.”
he didn’t stop. he fucked you straight through it, then suddenly pulled out and flipped you over onto your stomach. he yanked your hips up so your ass was in the air, face pressed into the sheets.
“ass up. face down. perfect position for a whore.”
he slammed back in from behind, even deeper than before. one hand fisted your hair while the other smacked your ass hard, leaving stinging prints on your skin.
“this is all you’re good for now,” he panted, hips snapping against you. “getting used and filled. walking around in slutty dresses hoping your ex will remind you what a cock-hungry little toy you really are.”
you were drooling into the sheets, moaning shamelessly with every brutal thrust. gojo reached around and rubbed your overstimulated clit again, forcing another orgasm out of you. your legs gave out, but he held your hips up and kept fucking you through it.
“third time cumming and you still can’t get enough,” he mocked. “disgusting. adorable.”
he pulled out again, this time flipping you onto your side. he lifted one of your legs and slid back inside, fucking you at a new angle that made you see stars. his free hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head feel fuzzy.
“tell me who this pussy belongs to,” he demanded, voice dark.
“y-you… it belongs to you, satoru—”
“louder. tell me what you are.”
“i’m your slut,” you gasped, voice breaking. “i’m your dirty little slut—”
gojo groaned loudly and buried himself deep, cumming inside you for the second time. you felt the hot spurts filling you up again, so much that it started leaking out around his cock.
he stayed inside you for a long moment, catching his breath, hand still loosely around your throat. then he leaned in and kissed you messily, almost sweetly, before pulling back with that dangerous smirk.
“good girl,” he whispered against your lips. “but we’re still not done. i want this dress ruined and you covered in my cum before we leave this room.”
he slowly pulled out, watching with satisfaction as his cum poured out of your abused hole. his fingers pushed some of it back inside you, making you whimper.
“on your knees. clean my cock with that pretty mouth. and if you do a good job… maybe i’ll fuck your tits next.”
you slid off the bed on shaky legs, sinking to your knees in front of him, eyes glassy and lips parted.
you sank to your knees without another word, eyes hazy with lust and shame. gojo stood over you, cock still hard and glistening with your combined juices. he tapped the messy tip against your cheek, smirking down at you.
“look at that. my proud ex on her knees like a common whore. open your mouth.”
you parted your lips obediently. he pushed in slowly at first, letting you taste yourself and his cum, then gripped your hair and started fucking your throat. wet, sloppy sounds filled the room as he used your mouth without mercy.
“that’s it. choke on it like the cockslut you are,” he groaned, hips snapping forward. “this is what you were really after tonight. not the party. just getting used like a cheap fucktoy.”
tears pricked your eyes as he hit the back of your throat, but you didn’t pull away. you sucked harder, tongue swirling around him the way he liked. gojo moaned lowly, his grip tightening in your hair.
after a few minutes he pulled out, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to his cock. he slapped your face with it lightly, laughing at how desperate you looked.
“on the bed. now.”
he didn’t wait for you to move. he grabbed you and tossed you onto the mattress, climbing over you. he straddled your chest, pressing your tits together around his thick cock.
“been wanting to fuck these all night,” he growled, sliding between your soft breasts. “you wore that dress just to tease me with them. now they’re mine again.”
gojo started thrusting, the head of his cock brushing your lips with every stroke. you stuck your tongue out, licking him every time he pushed forward. the sight made him curse under his breath.
“fuck… look at you. tits out, tongue out, covered in my cum already. such a filthy little cumrag.” he pinched your nipples hard while fucking your tits faster. “you love being degraded, don’t you? bet you’d let the whole party come in here and watch me ruin you.”
you whimpered, pressing your breasts tighter around him. gojo’s breathing grew ragged. he suddenly pulled back and flipped you onto all fours again, slamming into your dripping pussy in one brutal thrust.
“gonna fill you one more time,” he panted, pounding you mercilessly. “then i’m painting that pretty face. want you walking out of here with my cum leaking down your thighs and drying on your skin. everyone’s gonna know what a slut you are.”
the room filled with the sound of skin slapping skin and your broken moans. gojo reached around and rubbed your clit roughly, forcing another orgasm out of your exhausted body. you shook violently, crying out his name as your pussy clenched around him.
“good whore,” he laughed darkly. “cumming again just from being called a slut.”
he fucked you through it, then pulled out and yanked you off the bed by your hair. he forced you back onto your knees, stroking his cock furiously right in front of your face.
“open your mouth. tongue out.”
you obeyed instantly. gojo groaned loudly as thick ropes of cum shot across your face and tongue. some landed on your tits, some on your cheeks, dripping down your chin. he kept stroking until every drop was on you or in your mouth.
“swallow.”
you did, looking up at him with glassy, fucked-out eyes. gojo stared down at you for a long moment, taking in the sight of your ruined makeup, cum-covered face, and marked body.
he finally let out a satisfied chuckle and crouched down, gripping your chin so you’d look at him.
“this is what you are now,” he said softly, voice still dripping with mockery. “my pretty little ex-slut. you can wear whatever slutty dress you want and pretend you’re over me, but we both know the truth. this pussy, these tits, that greedy mouth… they all still belong to me.”
he wiped a streak of cum off your cheek with his thumb and pushed it into your mouth. you sucked it clean without thinking.
gojo smiled, dark and possessive.
“good girl. now get dressed. we’re going back to the party. and you’re gonna walk out there with my cum still inside you and all over your face. let them see exactly who you really are.”
accidentally baby trapping satoru while riding him
the room is thick with the smell of sex and sweat. gojo is sprawled beneath you on the ruined sheets, his usual infinity long gone, silver hair sticking to his damp forehead. his chest rises and falls rapidly, pale skin flushed pink all the way down to the sharp v of his hips. you’ve already made him cum once, but you never stopped riding him. now he’s overstimulated, cock still rock-hard and throbbing inside your soaked pussy, every drag of your walls making him twitch and curse.
“fuck—baby, slow down,” he groans, voice hoarse and broken. his fingers dig bruises into your hips as you grind down on him again, taking every inch until his tip kisses your cervix. “i’m too sensitive—shit— you’re gonna kill me.”
you’re not listening. not really. your own orgasm is already building again, hot and vicious, your clit grinding against his pelvis with every roll of your hips. you’re dripping down his cock, creamy white streaks of both your releases coating his shaft and dripping onto his balls. the wet, filthy sounds echo with every bounce.
“you feel so fucking good, satoru…” you whimper, bracing your hands on his abs and lifting yourself until only his flushed tip is inside you, then slamming back down hard. his cock stretches you so perfectly, thick and veiny, pulsing against your walls like it was made for you.
gojo’s head tips back, white lashes fluttering, mouth open in a silent moan. “princess—ahh—fuck, i’m serious. i’m gonna cum again if you keep—ngh—keep squeezing me like that.” his abs tense under your palms, hips jerking up involuntarily to meet your rhythm.
you lean forward, pressing your tits against his chest, and start riding him faster. the new angle makes his cock drag right over that spongy spot inside you with every thrust. your pussy flutters and clenches greedily around him, milking his overstimulated length without mercy.
“shit—wait, baby—slow— i’m close again,” he gasps, voice cracking. his hands slide up your back, then back down to grip your ass, trying to control your pace. “you gotta pull off— i can’t— fuck, i’m gonna cum inside if you don’t—pull out—!”
the words barely register. everything feels too good. his cock is swelling even thicker inside you, twitching wildly, the heat of him overwhelming. your thighs burn, your clit throbs, and another orgasm is rushing up on you like a freight train. instead of lifting off, you grind down harder, rolling your hips in tight circles so his cock stirs deep in your pussy.
you cum with a broken cry, walls clamping down around him like a vice. your cunt spasms violently, rhythmic pulses squeezing and fluttering around his cock as pleasure whites out your vision. gojo chokes on a moan, hips stuttering up into you.
“fuck— no, wait— i’m cumming— i’m—!”
he tries to pull you off at the last second, but your thighs lock tight around his waist, keeping him buried to the hilt. thick, hot ropes of cum flood deep inside you as he cums harder than the first time. pulse after heavy pulse, his cock jerking and spurting against your cervix while your pussy keeps milking him through your own orgasm. you don’t stop moving—riding him through it in sloppy, desperate strokes, prolonging both your highs until his cum is leaking out around his cock with every bounce.
gojo’s eyes roll back, a wrecked, broken sound leaving his throat as you keep fucking yourself on his oversensitive dick. “too much—fuck— you’re still going—hah— you little menace…”
only when your orgasm finally ebbs do you collapse onto his chest, both of you panting, trembling, and covered in sweat. his cock is still buried deep in your cum-stuffed pussy, twitching weakly with aftershocks. you can feel how full you are—his warm seed sloshing inside you with every tiny shift of your hips.
gojo lets out a breathless, slightly delirious laugh, wrapping his strong arms around you and holding you flush against him. one hand slides down to press firmly on your lower belly, right where his cum is settled deep.
“you… you didn’t pull off,” he murmurs against your hair, voice rough and sex-drunk. there’s a dark, possessive edge beneath the amusement. “i told you to pull out and you just rode me harder. greedy girl.”
you hide your flushed face in his neck, smiling against his skin as you give one slow, lazy roll of your hips. his cock twitches inside you again, pushing more of his cum deeper.
“oops,” you whisper, clenching around him on purpose.
gojo groans, hips bucking up weakly. “yeah… real convincing ‘oops.’” he kisses the top of your head, then tilts your chin up so he can claim your mouth in a messy, tongue-heavy kiss. when he pulls back, his blue eyes are half-lidded and hungry. “guess you baby-trapped me, huh? fuck… why is that so hot?”
his hand rubs slow circles over your belly. you can feel his cock starting to harden again inside your messy, cum-filled cunt.
“you’re not going anywhere,” he says, voice dropping lower as he starts rocking up into you again, slow and deep. “not until i fill you up at least one more time. since we’re already making a mess… might as well commit.”
you moan softly, already moving with him.
looks like you’re keeping every single drop tonight.
@neuriscent ur weird asf, r ur "requests" gonna be typed into chatgpt
clanker
i woke up to see this and i'm honestly so disheartened.
it's wild to me that a prominent blog feels completely justified in singling out and publicly bullying a newer creator who just wanted a quiet space to share their love for a fandom. i never claimed to be anything i’m not, yet you’re choosing to throw hateful slurs like "clanker" around and make fun of me just for existing here.
weaponizing my choice to be transparent about my process just to harass me is uncalled for, and frankly, the blatant ableism of mocking someone for using assistive technology to cope with chronic illness and neurodivergence is disgusting. demanding that every creator meet your specific standards of physical and mental labor just to "count" as an artist is exclusionary and deeply harmful to disabled creators who just want to participate in the community.
if my assistive tools offend your standards of traditional writing, that is your choice, and you are welcome to scroll away. but turning my presence into a joke for your dashboard isn't the flex you think it is. please respect my DNI and leave my blog the hell alone.
sugar talking
your on-again-off-again boyfriend apologizing the best way he knows how!
boyfriend!gojo x reader
— put your loving where your mouth is,
your sugar talking isn't working tonight —
—
18+ MDNI, wc: 1.7k, f!reader, smut, slight angst, toxic relationship, gojo and reader can't stay away from each other, they're kinda really pathetic for each other, oral (f. receiving), pet names, p talk, dirty talk
you should be used to it by now. after two and a half years, it's always been the same dynamic. the two of you are just too similar. scarily similar.
it was the same old, stupid, tired argument once again. you've already forgotten the exact details of what happened this time. you've broken up and taken breaks too often to remember each one, they've began to blur together.
and yet, the arguments never failed to end the exact same way— gojo underneath you or in between your legs.
you sigh as you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket for the nth time today. gojo has been texting you nonstop for the past week and a half, which is the amount of time it's been since the two of you took yet another break.
you reluctantly pull your phone out of your pocket to skim his seventh paragraph of the day.
it was the same thing over and over. he's a changed man, he misses you, he needs you and can't be without you.
it was becoming redundant.
toru <3 - baby please i've changed. i miss you. you know it's always gonna end with you and me. you're the only one i need, please don't do this to me.
you shake your head, fingers furiously typing away at your phone.
you - fuck off toru you say the same thing every time. stop texting me
toru <3 - yet you still call me toru
you groan and roll your eyes. he was right, you shouldn't be using that nickname anymore.
you feel tears begin to form as you edit his contact name to a simple satoru. you sigh, tossing your phone next to you.
...
it's been a week, and you're making your late morning coffee run as per usual, enjoying the peaceful yet usual silence from your phone.
gojo hasn't texted you all week, which strangely filled you with relief and simultaneous dread.
you arrive back to your studio apartment, jaw dropping as you open the door. your whole apartment...entirely covered with bouquets of flowers.
you were well aware of how wealthy gojo is, but a display like this really puts it into perspective. the amount of flowers in your apartment must've cost way more than what it's worth.
you groan in disbelief and angrily yank out your phone.
you - what the fuck am i supposed to do with all of these????
satoru - i see you got my special delivery, make sure to read the note.
you scoff, eyes scanning your apartment for the said note. you were already dreading how annoying it'll be to throw all these away later.
you finally spot it tied to one of the bouquets, making your way over to it. you open it to a simple sentence.
i'll see you tonight at 8
your stomach drops and your cheeks flush. you knew he was dead serious about showing up. his audacity will never fail to amaze you.
defeated, you pull out your phone once again, not able to hold back the smile on your face as you text him back.
you - don't be late
...
you open the door on his third knock, embarrassingly eager. you're met with that familiar smirk you hate to admit you missed.
it's silent for a few seconds, until— "let me apologize, please."
gojo's on his knees in front of you in an instant, looking up at you with a suddenly pouty expression. you can't help but smirk at the sight.
"you can come in," you say, turning your back to him as you motion for him to follow you into your apartment.
he eagerly stands up and follows you inside, lightly kicking the front door behind him with his heel to shut it. you turn to face him again, watching as he strides over to sit on your bed, as if he was right at home. in a way, he was.
"so, what do you want?" you ask with a sigh. you already knew what his answer would be as he said it.
he lets out a quick, low chuckle. "i told you, i'm here to apologize."
you cross your arms, attempting to subtly get closer to meet gojo near your bed, standing in front of him. rolling your eyes, you finally respond. "well, go on."
his remorseful expression returns as he reaches his hand out to you, signaling for you to give him your hand. you reluctantly oblige, resting your hand in his.
"i'm so sorry for putting you through this again. you don't deserve this- i don't deserve you." he brushes his thumb against the back of your hand as he speaks. "i want you back. please."
you sigh, yanking your hand out of his, taking a few steps backwards. "you say the same thing every time. you realize that, right?"
he stares at you, stunned. he opens his mouth to say something before quickly turning away from you, embarrassed.
"it's always 'i want you' and 'i miss you', but it's never genuine." you feel tears begin to prick your eyes. gojo stands up, walking over to you as he shakes his head.
"it's always genuine. i need you," he says softly, cupping your face in his hands as he wipes a lone tear off your cheek. you subconsciously melt into his touch, and it doesn't go unnoticed.
you sigh once again. "then why is it always the same broken record of apologies?"
gojo cringes. unable to answer, he looks away. you catch a slight glimpse of tears forming in his eyes, a pang of guilt immediately punching you in the gut. after a moment of silence, you take a small step towards him, your hand finding its way to his cheek.
"i will accept apologies in other ways, though, if you're open to it," you whisper. gojo perks up, head snapping back in your direction. he nods frantically, eyes darting to your lips. you give him a slight smile as reassurance.
he smirks, leaning in, stopping right before your lips touch. "in that case," he begins, leaving a sweet peck on your cheek, "i'll need you on the bed."
he guides you backwards, crashing his lips into yours just as your back hits the mattress. the kiss is hungry, as if it had been months, no, years without you.
you moan into the kiss, poor pussy already soaked with anticipation. you quickly rotate positions, his back now flat on the mattress with you on top of him.
you can't help yourself from grinding against him as you deepen the kiss, hips moving on their own, desperately searching for any sort of friction to ease the ache between your legs. a low, quiet chuckle escapes gojo's lips in between messy kisses. "needy already, sweet girl?"
instead of answering with words, you simply grind against his clothed cock again. your slick has seeped through your thin underwear and pants. you look down and notice gojo also happens to be leaking through his pants. you smile to yourself at the sight of his precum staining the fabric of his sweatpants.
he whimpers with each slow grind. you feel his cock twitch right over your clothed clit, moaning at the feeling.
"need you inside," you whimper under your breath. gojo responds with a smirk before slowly guiding you onto your back.
"not yet, angel," he says, trailing kisses from your mouth down your neck. "i still have to apologize, remember?"
you whimper with frustration just before he leaves another trail of kisses down the unattended side of your neck.
you realize he's made his way between your legs. he plants hungry kisses over your clothed clit, prompting a moan from your already parted lips. he uses one finger to quickly pull down your underwear, his mouth immediately watering at the sight of your glistening folds. you watch as he licks his lips, seemingly admiring your pussy.
"oh, you missed me, too, didn't you?" he asks with a low chuckle. your face flushes as you realize he wasn't talking to you exactly...
gojo wastes no time licking a long, slow swipe from your hole to your clit. the teasing was agonizing.
"please toru- haah-" you moan. you don't even know what you're begging for at this point. he only smiles.
"hm?" he mumbles, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. you open your mouth to repeat yourself, yet all that comes out is a strangled moan as he licks another mean stripe along your folds, pausing at the end to give your clit a sweet kiss. "use your words, baby."
you take a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. yet just as you open your mouth to answer, gojo begins to lick slow circles around your swollen bud, your slick already coating his chin.
you accept defeat, not attempting to speak again. all you can do is squirm under his tongue. you instinctively try to close your legs around him before you're stopped, his warm hands prying your thighs back open, holding them firmly in place.
once he's certain you won't try to close your legs again, he brings one hand to your entrance, slipping in a single finger with ease. you gasp in surprise, back arching off the bed.
he smiles in satisfaction before slipping a second finger into you, tongue returning to its previous spot on your clit.
his tongue works tirelessly, softly circling your clit as his fingers pump in and out of you. he finds that sweet spot inside of you with ease, curling his fingers just right.
"see how much she misses me?" he sighs followed with another curl of his fingers, coaxing a loud moan out of you. you feel your peak sneaking up on you embarrassingly fast.
gojo notices just as you do, chuckling into your pussy. "oh? is my girl about to cum already?"
you can only nod in response, your inevitable orgasm approaching faster by the second. your breathing picks up, as well as the breathlessness of your moans. gojo's cock was straining against his sweatpants.
"s' good for me," he whimpers, beginning to subconsciously grind against the mattress.
he is completely and utterly pussydrunk.
"fuck- missed you sooo much," he mutters as best he can. he's now groaning into your pussy, the vibrations being just what you need to hit your peak.
you're clenching around gojo's fingers before you realize it, orgasm crashing into you hard. you tug on his hair as you ride out your high.
he kisses your folds to your inner thighs before lifting his head to meet your gaze. you giggle as you realize his lower face is completely covered in your slick.
"so," he begins, crawling back upwards towards you. "was that a good enough apology?"
you bring your finger to your chin, playfully tapping as if you were deep in thought. "hm, i think i'll actually need a couple more apologies."
gojo cocks his head in amusement before lowering himself back down between your legs.
"careful what you wish for, gorgeous."
a/n: not proofread... thank you sabrina carpenter for the inspiration 🙏
masterlist! ᯓ★