𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: horsejo!Gojo Satoru × female!Reader
𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: alternate universe; set in 1980s; hybrid au; beastiality but it’s the mating hormones; childhood friends to lovers; explicit sexual content; a little interspecies action here; female masturbation; object penetration; 18+ mdni
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8K
𝐀/𝐍: This is pure crack. Enjoy. Indulge. Wallow in the messy sin of it all.
The morning air, cold and crisp, carried the scent of damp earth and pine, biting at your face even though the sun had already promised a blistering afternoon. Your mare, Hera, a chestnut, moved with practiced grace beneath you, her hooves thudding a rhythmic pulse against the manicured turf of the Gojo estate’s riding track.
Beside you, Gojo, perched atop his own magnificent horse, a sleek black gelding named Onyx, looked entirely too comfortable for someone who was supposedly about to vanish from your life. Well, not entirely, but he’d be gone for a whole season. Three whole months without him, which, let’s be honest, is the longest you’ve ever been apart since you were children and started horse riding.
Right now, his white hair, a defiant shock against the blue sky, caught the light, and even from this distance, you could feel the infuriating warmth of his presence.
“You know, for someone about to embark on a mysterious, millennia old family pilgrimage, you seem remarkably unconcerned,” you observed, nudging Hera into a canter, matching Onyx’s easy stride.
The wind whipped strands of hair across your face, a welcome distraction from the prickle of anticipation in your gut.
Gojo merely chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that always managed to send a shiver down your spine. His eyes, though hidden behind those absurd dark glasses, you knew held that familiar, unreadable glint. “Why concern myself when I’m leaving the win in such capable, albeit slightly unhinged, hands?”
You snorted, brushing off the mention of winning. “Unhinged? I’m the only one here with enough sense to question the Gojo heir vanishing act. Every twenty-first birthday, and woosh! Gone. You’d think by now someone would have written a pamphlet.”
“It’s tradition,” he stated, his voice devoid of any real explanation, as always. “A necessary retreat. A period of reflection, if you may.” He paused, Onyx clearing a low hedge with effortless power. “Besides, I’m not leaving you entirely to your own devices. Our family is acquiring a new stallion. A thoroughbred. Pure white, actually. He’s already been through extensive training. You’ll find him exceptionally easy to work with.”
You raised a brow, guiding Hera over the same hedge. The mare barely ruffled her mane. “A new horse? And for me? That’s awfully generous, even for the Gojo clan. What’s the catch? Does he only respond to ancient incantations?”
“No incantations, unless ‘good boy’ counts.” A wry smile played on his lips, and you felt your stomach clench. He always knew how to disarm you. “He’s for the competition. Your big debut. I’ve heard the other riders are already quaking in their riding boots at the thought of a woman competing in the Grand National. You need every advantage.”
You smoothed a gloved hand over Hera’s brown silky mane, a smile tugging at your lips now.
First female equestrian. The newspapers had a field day, didn’t they? Such a novelty, a woman daring to compete in a man’s world, particularly one as exclusive and historically male dominated as the Steeplechase, the Grand National. You rather enjoyed the scandal of it all, the hushed whispers turning into outright gasps when you actually won some of the preliminary races. It was delicious.
“Oh, they’re quaking, alright. Probably because they’re all still riding ponies their nannies picked out.” You scoffed, a familiar spark of defiance igniting within you. “I don’t need a fancy new horse, though, Gojo. Hera and I have this covered.”
“Don’t be stubborn. This horse is exceptional. He’s got the lineage, the temperament, the raw power. He’ll make Hera look like a hobby horse.” Gojo pulled Onyx up short, turning to face you, his glasses slipping just enough for a sliver of his impossibly blue eye to reflect the sun. It was like looking into a summer sky clashing with winter. “Think of it as a parting gift. A little something to remember me by, while I’m...reflecting.”
He leaned in, Onyx’s warm breath ghosting over Hera’s flank. To her credit, Hera gave a distinct snort and turned her head away, as if she understood every word and wanted absolutely no part in the conversation.
But your heart hammered against your ribs. He was close enough that you could smell the faint scent of expensive cologne, mixed with horse and something uniquely him. “And don’t act like you won’t miss me, you little tease. Who else will you torment with your snarky remarks?”
“I’m sure the stable boys will appreciate the attention,” you retorted, though your voice came out a little breathy. You hated how easily he could fluster you.
He reached out, his long fingers pinching the bridge of your nose, a familiar gesture he’d employed since you were children, usually when you were being particularly difficult. His touch was light, yet sent a flicker through you. No one ever warned you about crushing on your childhood friend.
“There it is. The snark. You never change, do you?” His thumb brushed your cheekbone now, almost absentminded, a fleeting caress that felt like a brand. “Just don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone. And ride that horse. He’s special.”
You pulled back, a wave of heat creeping up your neck. “I can handle myself, Gojo. Always have.”
“I know.” His smile softened, losing its teasing edge for a moment, and it was that rare, genuine expression that always undid you, always made your chest tighten. “That’s why I trust you with him.”
He glanced towards the distant manor, a faint frown touching his brow. “I should…I should be going soon. You know, preparations.”
The sudden shift in his demeanor, the subtle withdrawal, felt like a physical blow. You knew this day was coming, but the reality of it still stung. He wouldn’t be gone forever, of course. No Gojo heir ever was. But the thought of weeks and months without his infuriating presence, his teasing touch, the way he made your world feel a little brighter and infinitely more frustrating, left an ache in your chest.
“Right. Preparations.” You forced a casual shrug, though your hand tightened on Hera’s reins as your other reached over to give Onyx’s mane one last ruffle. The gelding wasn’t a fan, but seemed to make an exception today. “Don’t forget to send a postcard from…wherever it is you go.”
He laughed, a sound that finally seemed to break the tension. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I’ll just surprise you with a grand entrance, just as you’re about to win the Grand National.” He winked, then spurred Onyx forward, heading back towards the stables with a sudden burst of speed. “Take care, then, darling!”
You watched him go, a small cloud of dust rising behind Onyx. The sun felt a little colder now, the air a little thinner. You stayed there for a long moment, the scent of horse and the lingering ghost of his touch on your face, before turning Hera and following slowly, the promise of a new horse a small, warming comfort.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
A week later, the Gojo estate felt eerily quiet without him. The air seemed to hold its breath, waiting for his return.
You had spent the days riding Hera, pushing her harder than usual, as a restless energy buzzed beneath your skin. The Grand National loomed, a colossal challenge, and despite your bravado, a knot of nerves tightened in your gut. But today, the stable master, a hearty yet stoic man named Mr. Kong, had sent word: the new stallion had arrived.
You drove your vintage Jaguar, a sleek, emerald green beast, up the winding drive, the roar of its engine a welcome distraction from your thoughts. The main stables, a grand stone structure that looked more like a medieval castle than a place for horses, loomed ahead. The air inside was a rich tapestry of hay, leather, and horseflesh. Stable hands moved with quiet efficiency, their hushed voices adding to the reverent atmosphere.
Mr. Kong met you at the entrance, a carefully measured smile on his face, and a mustache that made you look twice. “Miss, he’s here. Just settled in. Quite a magnificent creature.”
He led you down a wide aisle, past rows of impeccably maintained stalls. A hush fell over the stable as you approached the last stall on the right. Even before you saw him, you felt his presence, a powerful, almost magnetic pull.
And then, slowly, he came into view.
He was a vision. Pure, unblemished white like Gojo had mentioned, his coat gleaming like polished ivory under the stable lights. He stood tall, his muscles rippling beneath his skin, a testament to raw power and perfect conformation.
But it was his eyes that truly captivated you. They were a startling, vibrant blue, the exact shade of Gojo’s, not icy, but deep and intelligent, with a mischievous spark that made your breath catch. He moved his head, and the light played across his intelligent gaze, reflecting a silent, knowing energy.
“Good heavens,” you breathed, stepping closer to the stall. He watched you, those blue eyes tracking your every movement, not with fear, but with an almost regal curiosity. “He’s…he’s breathtaking.”
“Mugen, he’s called,” Mr. Kong offered, his voice softer than before. “The Gojo family chose the name. Said it meant infinity. Limitless. Fits him, doesn’t it?”
Mugen. Limitless. And those eyes, it was uncanny. You reached out a hand, slowly, cautiously, towards his muzzle. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he lowered his head, nudging his velvety nose into your palm. His breath was warm, sweet.
You stroked his soft fur, feeling the ridges of the hard bone beneath the soft skin. “Hello, Mugen,” you offered a smile, your voice a little shaky. “You certainly live up to your name.”
You spent a good hour just getting acquainted, letting him sniff your clothes, offering him a carrot, speaking to him in low, soothing tones. He seemed to absorb your presence, his blue eyes never leaving yours. There was an undeniable connection, an immediate understanding that settled deep in your bones.
Finally, you decided it was time. You had to see him move. Mr. Kong, whose name you learn is Shiu, saddled him, the expensive leather gleaming, and you swung yourself up into the saddle. Mugen stood still, a majestic statue, until you gave the command.
The moment he moved, you knew Gojo hadn’t exaggerated. Mugen was pure poetry in motion. He glided across the riding grounds, his hooves barely seeming to touch the earth. His stride was long, powerful, yet incredibly smooth. He responded to your lightest touch, a subtle shift of your weight, a whisper of the reins. He was intuitive, anticipating your commands before you even fully formed them.
You took him over hedges, through water features, across open fields, and he soared, each jump effortless, each landing soft and controlled.
A wild, exhilarating joy surged through you. This wasn’t just a horse; he was an extension of your will, a partner in a silent, powerful dance. You laughed, a genuine, unburdened sound that echoed across the grounds. The tension that had coiled in your shoulders for weeks, the underlying worry about the competition, about Gojo, about everything, began to unravel, replaced by a pure, unadulterated sense of freedom.
You rode for what felt like hours, the sun dipping lower, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. Mugen was tireless, his energy seemingly boundless. As you brought him back to the stable, a gentle sweat slicked his magnificent white coat, making him shimmer.
You dismounted, your legs a little wobbly from the exertion, but your spirit soaring. “He’s incredible, Shiu!” you declared, your voice still buzzing with excitement. “Absolutely incredible.”
“He is, Miss. A true champion.” The stable master even managed a small smile that looked genuine.
You grabbed a bucket of fresh, crisp apples from the stable kitchen. Mugen whickered softly as you approached his oddly luxurious stall, nudging his head against the bars. You offered him an apple, and he took it gently, his soft lips brushing your fingers. You fed him another, and another, stroking his neck, his powerful chest.
He seemed to relish the attention, leaning into your touch. Then, with a soft sigh, he lowered his head, nuzzling his velvety muzzle into your chest. His warm breath permeated the thin fabric of your riding shirt, sending a surprising shiver through you.
You laughed, a breathy sound, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face in his soft mane. “You’re such a sweetheart, aren’t you?” you cooed, your voice muffled against his fur.
He continued to nuzzle, his head shifting, his muzzle pressing harder against your breasts. It was an innocent gesture, the affection of a magnificent animal, but the pressure, the warmth, the unexpected intimacy, sent a strange heat blossoming in your core.
He made a soft sound, a low rumble in his chest, and then, to your utter shock, his tongue emerged. It was surprisingly rough, yet soft, and it swept across your shirt, right over your left nipple.
A gasp tore from your throat. Your entire body stiffened, a jolt of pure sensation shooting straight to your core. Your nipple, suddenly sensitive, hardened against the damp fabric. His tongue swept again, a slow, deliberate lick, and a low, involuntary moan escaped your lips.
Oh, good lord.
You pulled back, startled, your face flushing with heat. Mugen licked once more, pressing his tongue harder against your nipple, before he lifted his head, his blue eyes wide and innocent, as if he’d done nothing more than ask for another apple.
But your shirt was noticeably damp, a dark circle blooming over your breast, and beneath it, your nipple throbbed, aching with a shocking intensity. Your trousers suddenly felt tight, a warm, insistent dampness blooming between your thighs.
“Well, you certainly are affectionate,” you managed, your voice husky, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm. You cleared your throat, forcing a laugh that sounded entirely too strained. “Alright, you big brute. That’s enough for today. You’ve had your fill of apples and…me.”
You gave him one last pat, your hand lingering on his muscles, before practically fleeing the stable. The image of his blue eyes, so like Gojo’s, and the shocking intimacy of his tongue on your nipple, burned behind your eyelids.
The drive home was a blur. Your body thrummed with a strange, delicious tension. The damp spot on your shirt felt like a brand, a constant reminder of the unexpected encounter. You pulled into your driveway, slammed the car door shut, and practically sprinted inside, leaving your mother stumbling over her words, asking about the stallion.
The moment you were in your bedroom, the door locked, you ripped off your riding jacket, then your shirt, tossing it onto the floor as if it were contaminated with a potent, intoxicating aphrodisiac. You didn’t feel in control of your own body.
Your nipple, freed from the fabric, stood erect, aching for touch. Your bra followed, flung into a corner. Your breasts, full and heavy, bounced with the movement, and the sight of your own aroused flesh, still bearing the faint damp mark, sent another wave of heat through you.
Your riding trousers felt suffocating now. You unzipped them, letting them fall in a heap around your ankles, then kicked them aside. Your underwear was already soaked, and it clung uncomfortably to your swollen pussy. You tore them off, letting them join the pile of discarded clothes.
Standing naked in the middle of your room, the cool evening air a shocking contrast to the raging fire within you, you reached a trembling hand between your legs. Your fingers brushed against the slickness that had gathered there surprisingly fast. You were impossibly wet, slick and swollen, throbbing with a desperate need.
You sank onto your bed, spreading your legs wide, your knees bent. Your fingers found your clit, already hard and exquisitely sensitive. You began to stroke, a gentle, exploratory touch, then a firmer, more deliberate pressure. A soft groan escaped your lips.
Your eyes fluttered shut, and instantly, Mugen’s face materialised in your mind. His magnificent white coat, his intelligent blue eyes, the way he’d nuzzled your chest. You imagined his velvety muzzle pressing against your flesh, his warm breath on your skin. Then, his tongue, rough and wet, sweeping over your raw nipples, over and over, eliciting those involuntary moans. You arched your back, a delicious shiver running through you.
But the image shifted, blurred. Mugen’s blue eyes morphed into Gojo’s. It wasn’t the horse anymore. It was Gojo, his face close, his long fingers trailing down your neck, his lips brushing your skin. You imagined him leaning in, his breath hot against your ear, whispering teasing words. His touch, light and infuriating, became a caress, his fingers tracing the curve of your breast, circling your hardened nipple.
You gasped, your hips lifting off the bed. Your fingers worked faster, harder, circling your clit, pressing, circling it harder. The friction was exquisite, building to an unbearable intensity. You imagined Gojo’s teasing smile, the glint in his blue eyes, as he watched you, knowing exactly what he’d done, what he’d started. His hands were on you, his long fingers tracing the line of your inner thigh, moving higher, parting your wet folds.
You imagined his thumb pressing down on your clit, just like your own, but with a knowing pressure that made your body convulse. You whimpered, a desperate sound.
The fantasy intensified, blurring the lines between horse and man, between innocent affection and raw, burning lust. Mugen’s nuzzle, Gojo’s teasing touch, the shared blue eyes, it all coalesced into a singular, overwhelming sensation. You pictured Gojo, now not just watching, but kneeling before you, his head buried between your legs, his tongue replacing your fingers, lapping at your pussy, sucking your clit with the same deliberate motion Mugen had used on your nipple.
A long moan escaped your throat. Your entire body was vibrating, on the precipice of release. The pressure, the heat, the relentless friction, it was too much, yet not enough. Your fingers tightened, pressing hard, relentlessly, against your clit, grinding into the exquisite sensitivity.
The rhythm quickened, frantic and demanding. Your hips lifted, then a desperate grind against the sheets, chasing a sensation that remains just out of reach. It’s good, oh, it’s so good, but it’s not enough. Your fingers can tease and torment, can bring you to the edge, but they can’t fill the aching void, the deep, hollow yearning for something more substantial, something that truly penetrates the raw, exposed core of your desire.
Frustration, a sharp, bitter tang, mixed with the heady rush of pleasure. Fuck, you need more. You need to be utterly, completely consumed.
Your hand, still trembling from the intensity of your self-pleasure, reaches out blindly, fumbling across your bedside table. Your fingers brush against something cold and smooth, then a sudden clatter. A sharp, wet splash against your skin and the mattress—you’ve knocked over your glass of water.
A momentary jolt of annoyance, quickly overridden by the fierce, unrelenting need as your fingers continue their frantic search, brushing past scattered books, a discarded hair pin, until they meet something else. Something solid. Smooth, yet with a distinct grain, cool to the touch, and unyielding. Your fingers close around it.
It’s a wooden comb. Not the wide-toothed kind, but the sturdy thing you use for detangling. It feels substantial in your palm, a promise of the depth your fingers cannot provide. A shiver of apprehension, mixed with a thrill of illicit excitement, races through you. Your virgin body has never known penetration, not like this. The thought is both terrifying and intoxicating.
With a deep, shuddering breath, you guide the smooth, blunt end of the comb downwards, towards the pulsing, swollen flesh that yearns for relief. The first touch is tentative, a hesitant exploration against your aching entrance.
You gasp, a sharp intake of air, as the smooth wood presses against your tender folds, stretching, pushing. A sting, hot and immediate, shoots through you. Your body tenses, a natural recoil, but the desperate hunger overrides the nascent fear.
“No,” you whisper, a plea to yourself, a command to push past the pain. The image of him, his face contorted in passion, flashes behind your eyelids, fuelling your resolve. You grit your teeth, a fierce determination hardening your expression in the dark. With a long moan, you thrust downwards, a bold, deliberate act of defiance against the delicious burn. The sting intensifies, a sharp, tearing sensation, but it’s quickly followed by a strange, exhilarating fullness.
You’re in.
A choked sob escapes your lips, a mixture of pain and profound relief. Pleasure. The handle of the wooden comb fills you, stretches you, a deep, intrusive pressure that your body both resists and craves. Your hips begin to rock, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency, grinding against the foreign object buried within you. Each thrust is a revelation, a raw, almost violent act of self-possession.
The initial sting gives way to a burning friction, a deep, internal ache that is exquisitely painful and utterly, utterly thrilling. You push harder, faster, using the comb to reach depths your fingers could never, mimicking the thrusts you’ve only ever imagined.
Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your body a taut bowstring pulled to its breaking point. The friction builds, an inferno raging inside you, each movement of the comb stirring the flames higher. You are a whirlwind of sensation, of desperate need, of raw, unadulterated lust. The world narrows to this single, intense point of contact, this deep, violating pleasure.
Your mind is a dizzying blur of his face, his touch, his imagined voice whispering obscenities in your ear. “Gojo,” you gasp, his name a desperate plea on your lips. “Yes—oh—”
And then, it comes. A blinding, shattering explosion that washes over body, through your core. Your back arches violently, a groan expiring into short gasps and moans, as wave after wave of pure, unadulterated ecstasy washes over you, convulsing your entire being. Your muscles clench, a fierce, delicious spasm, milking every last drop of pleasure from the depths.
As the tremors subside, leaving you breathless and spent, a profound sense of release floods you. With a final, lingering contraction, the wooden comb, slick and warm, slides out from between your thighs, landing with a soft rustle on the damp sheet.
You lay there, panting, your body slick with sweat, the aftershocks rippling through you. Your fingers were still between your legs, sticky and wet, resting there. Your mind, though hazy, still clung to the image of Gojo, his blue eyes, his teasing smile, forever intertwined with the magnificent white stallion.
You open your eyes, staring up at the ceiling, a faint smile playing on your lips.
The Grand National suddenly felt like a secondary concern. The real challenge, it seemed, was navigating the treacherous landscape of your own desires, and the infuriating man who seemed to inhabit every corner of them.
Tag List: @hatchus2 @ssetsuka @sirenleche @h1ddenbby (open)
the x reader "consumers" on tumblr lowk are so entitled, i said consumer bcs these people do nothing to support the writers but complain about FREE fanfics that other people write for FUN and for the LOVE of the game.
i'm so tired of you people who can only pressure these writers, make memes, and ridicule them for writing something that was not fit to your standards or liking.
you don't even write or contribute anything to the community, don't even support or atleast reblogs to the writers you actually like.
stop filling the tags with your consistent complaints about the fanfics that obviously wasn't meant for you (not to your liking) and start learn how to write.
Gojo is so romantic and basically worships you. Not too explicit but I think it’s still +18. Oh and it’s my first fic.
His fingertips gently traced the beauty marks scattered across your smooth skin. He connected the dots, imagining drawing constellations on your bare body. Your warmth had already melted him in your arms. Lazily, he nuzzled against your bosom, your natural, soft scent making him drowsy. He could sleep for hours like this, his face buried in your chest, inhaling your scent deeply, craving it more than oxygen.
He began placing soft kisses along your chest. You chuckled quietly and combed your fingers through his silky hair. His lips paused beneath your left breast, resting there against your skin.
Thump
Thump
Thump
Feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, his eyes fluttered shut as he counted each beat, as if grounding himself in you. A small, almost reverent smile touched his lips.
He was so lucky.
You were alive. You were safe in his arms. You were the most beautiful woman in his eyes.
And you were his.
He started to pepper gentle kisses across your skin, softly wrapping his lips around your nipple and giving it a light suck. Now you were the one melting under his warm touch. You looked down into his eyes as he continued, slow and deliberate. A smirk curved his lips before he pulled away with a soft pop. He believed in equality so he leaned in to the other side to give it the same attention.
Your heartbeat quickened slightly, the quiet serenity of your shared bedroom wrapping around the two of you like a spell.
He lifted his head again and pressed his lips to the first beauty mark he found. Then another. And another. He shifted you gently into different positions, determined to kiss every single one he knew by heart.
He adored them. He found them so intimate. Precious. Like stars scattered across your body, constellations only he had memorized. The finishing touch of an artist’s masterpiece. Some were hidden in places only he was allowed to see, sacred spots reserved for a lover’s gaze.
His gaze.
He kissed every inch of you, worshipped every flaw and charm, until morning came.
now satoru gojo knew his dick game was fire (undefeated, he would probably argue) but he would be lying if he said he wasn't just a little concerned every time he saw those fat globs of tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as he hit your sweet spot perfectly every. single. time.
“y-you alright angel?” he huffed out, brows creased slightly as he eased himself in and out from your tight walls—abs tightening at the way your back arched up against the sheets.
he had you holding your own legs back, pressing them into the softness of your chest as he ploughed into you, soft whimpers and groans leaving both of your lips as he sped up.
“..m’fineeee,” you slurred, mascara beginning to run alongside your tears.
you thought it was only going to be like this the first time he fucked you—the feeling of his leaking tip pressing past your entrance, bullying its way into your slick walls making your vision blur with tears.
he felt guilty at first, slender fingers brushing away your tears whilst he rocked up into you, cooing soft, comforting words into your ear whilst you spasmed around him.
but the time after that, and the time after that—nothing had changed.
it was just too good, too much and yet not enough. you’d whine when he’d slow down, hiccuping at him to speed up even though you knew the mess it always reduced you to.
it was really after the first time he was mean about it that made him change his perspective.
when he mocked you, finger and thumb meeting to flick your forehead as he laughed at you.
“such a crybaby.” he’d said, eyes rolling with a sharpness that only made you shudder underneath him. the smile on his face had a sadistic glint, pace getting faster as he hit your sweet spot again and again and again.
“love watching you go dumb on this cock,” he continued, leaning down to rest on his forearms so that he was even closer to your face. “especially when you make those stupid little faces…”
you looked up at him, eyes wide and hazy with lust as he pushed the sides of your cheeks in—tongue lolling out as saliva dripped down his wrist.
“this one is my favourite. makes me wanna—fuck-” he tried to bite down a whimper but you still caught it, hips stuttering as he spilled up inside of you—warm hot liquid making you moan.
“jesus.” you saw the tips of his ears flush a bright red, gaze avoidant as he shallowly thrust into you. the fullness of his release alongside the push of his hips bringing you close, breath caught up in your lungs when you finally came.
“so gorgeous,” he murmured, hand moving over to gently rub away the dark lines of mascara that had run down your face.
and that's when he realised that he didn’t feel guilty or concerned at all when he saw your pretty doe eyes gloss over.
no, he felt euphoric; pace spurred with an almost juvenile level of excitement.
because when those tears ran down your eyes, he could see himself reflected in the watery mirror—see what he was doing to you, see how he ruined you.
and that's why his hips didn't pause or slow after your release, legs still spasming as he continued to press himself flush against your hips—overstimulating both of you as he built you back up.
"aww... you still cryin'?"
a/n:: currently in my gojo era pls allow me to enjoy my mannn (and ik this concept is prolly so overdone ALLOW ME its hot ok)
yandere satoru gojo jērks off to you through the hidden camera. 18+
tw: dub-con (ish), reprehensible content!
satoru gojo, hair white as snow covering dry land, eyes the shade of soft teal that contained specks of innocence hidden behind the glasses of his thin frame.
satoru gojo, the known nerd, who always pushed the bridge of his eye glasses whenever it slipped down. satoru gojo, the quiet one who bestowed his voice when necessary. satoru gojo, the campus’ ‘virgin’ (apparently) only because he avoided girls like they were the infected by the plague. that’s how people knew satoru gojo as.
but there was also something they didn’t know. when the sun had decided to paint the skies in orange, when the knob on his door didn’t need any twisting because everyone fell asleep, when papers were scattered on the table, he had his cock within his fist. his moans we’re constricted because of his other hand covering his sinful mouth, his eyes rolling back from lustrous thoughts.
about you. the campus’ sweetheart. the one whose smiles brightened up his rough days, the one who shared her juice boxes with him, the one who had been defending him ever since junior high school.
fuck, he truly adored you. loved you. and yet, you never knew because he was a coward.
there were days in a row he would have his laptop screen on and instead of actually focusing on informational videos found on youtube, he had different websites open. porn infested his computer after evenings and midnights. he would browse through, had paid memberships just to enjoy girls that looked even somewhat similar to you.
he was such a pathetic loser for this, he knew. and he promised himself he would stop it, if, you would say yes to him one day when he asks. but right now, this was all he could do. and right now, it was evening. he was feverish in his seat, his pale cheeks stained cherry red because of the view on his screen. his pupils dilated— there you were.
you had placed his given teddy bear on your bathroom vanity. yes, the teddy bear, which was the vessel through which satoru could now see you far more. it was a plush toy, a soft brown similar to the shade of the first coffee you had shared with him. you had promptly favored it as soon as he handed you the ‘gift’ with a sheepish smile and a rub on his nape.
and now, it was in your house. it’s eyes focusing. on you. camera lenses for irises. you had just gotten in the shower, nothing covering you, of course not.
and shit, blood immediately rushed in to his deplorable lovesick brain. fuck, fuck and fuck. he internally damned himself for this breach of privacy but his hands were already moving against his morality.
he palmed himself, he saw it. not too distinct but enough to harden his length beneath his boxers. water droplets slid down your body— down your breasts, kissing your areoles and finding it’s path to your hole.
he had imagined that pretty pussy so many times— your worn out thighs spread apart with his slender fingers, your puffed folds spread out for him with slobbering wetness as he would slide his big cock in and out of there with a deliberate slowness to make you beg for more.
with each lewd thoughts, he increased the pace of his hand. his cock was out, hard and aching. his gaze did not falter. the sight of you so naked and bare, caressing your body, unaware of his eyes.
his tip was pulsating a flushed pink, embellished with pre-cum. sticky white cream scattering further down his pulsating base with the help of his filthy hand. “mhm shit, you are so fuckin’ pretty baby”.
a guttural moan left out his chest. what would you do if you knew? would you slap him hard, eyes red with disgust? or would you let him get on his knees, tongue having a taste of your sweetness?
what if you found out about his actions? about him placing this hidden camera inside the teddy bear. about him sneaking in to the dorms of boys who had confessed to you and suffocating them with pillows in their sleep. about him writing in his notebooks on meticulous ways in which he would have you— get you married to him and fully stuffed with his load that you wouldn’t be able to do anything other than breed his children.
his strokes were faster and faster, his glasses fogged up from the heat of the moment as it slid down the slope of his nose, his teeth clenching on to his lustrous bottom lip.
soon enough, he spurted thick loads of his pasty cream all over himself. his firm thighs, the messy desk and some landed on to the screen. he was huffing, puffing with his forearm over his eyes.
he peeked at the screen, still exhausted and ashamed, your shower had stopped. you wrapped a soft towel around yourself— taking slow wet steps. the view becoming clearer, lenses able to focus on you more. his breath hitched, shit, you were so pretty. shit, you were too up close. you looked directly in to the teddy bear’s eyes. directly. too intensely. with a smile, you left it there and turned off the bathroom lights. gone.
shit, did you know?
hesitancy latched on to himself, eyes flickering as a nauseating feeling conquered his heart. then, his luminous cerulean eyes fixated on to that one thing. a pen. a black and gold pen. given by you. wait. but it’s clip was odd today.
a sudden red flicker.
idk how i feel abt this. wasnt able to execute this the way i wanted to. i might have to private it later ㅠ ㅠ (not proofread!)
contains: smut, fluff, dom shoko, sub reader, cheating
wc: 843
shoko should feel bad for fingerfucking her roommate on the shared couch.
but when you've just been so pent up, and your useless on and off boyfriend is nowhere to be found, despite insisting he wouldn't bail on you anymore...what is she to do? especially when you came to her with crystalline tears gracefully trailing down your cheeks as you begged her to fill the gaps your fingers just couldn't reach.
so, naturally, she had to have you lying flat on your back with your flimsy tank top still on as she maps out the aching flesh between your thighs with almost clinical precision. she can hear you whimpering and whining, and she can feel you dripping obscenely onto the faux-suede upholstery of your couch.
but she can't give you what you want just yet. no matter how much you're begging for it - and how much she wants to give in to your pleas.
"shoko," you blubber for the millionth time. shoko never particularly had a thing for tears. until now, that is. "p-please. i need it."
"what do you need, sweetheart?" she hums condescendingly. it doesn't take a mind reader to figure it out. but the brunette is getting some sort of sick pleasure out of watching you squirm. she'll have this current image of you burned into her retinas for the next three months at least.
"your fingers, sho," you reply, and the pathetic little hiccup that punctuates your words makes her feel a strange mix of horny and sympathetic.
maybe this is sadism, she thinks. but she doesn't let herself dwell on that.
"my fingers are very much on you," shoko replies. of course she's being difficult on purpose. "or can you not feel them? i guess i could just stop if-"
"no!" you interject, one hand reaching out to hold her wrist in place. "don't stop. but i need it...higher."
"here?" shoko asks, sliding her fingers up to your clit, then brushing right past it entirely so she can rest on the hood.
you shake your head. "lower," you mumble shyly, to which she responds by going straight to your sopping hole.
she's having way too much fun with this. but she wants to hear you say it.
"my clit, shoko!" you finally demand, covering your face with both hands. you can't believe you just folded under absolutely zero pressure.
but you have no time to wallow in your shame, because almost immediately after the words fall from your lips, shoko is rubbing tight circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves with her thumb while plunging two slender fingers in and out of your soaked hole.
"jesus," she breathes, almost awed. "i didn't even know people could get this wet."
obviously, she doesn't receive much of a response from you, aside from utterly depraved moans that will certainly have your neighbours leaving a strongly worded note taped to your door.
"that's it," shoko croons. her gaze practically burns you with its intensity. "doing so good, baby. does your boyfriend make you feel like this?"
at the lack of a response, she curls her fingers just enough to make you jolt in place, but not enough to finish this just yet. "i asked you a question. it's rude not to answer."
"wh...huh?" you slur. shoko only smirks.
"does your boyfriend make you feel like this?" she repeats, her movements between your slick thighs not ceasing even for a moment.
"no, shoko. o-only you," you respond obediently, and the tremor in your legs lets her know you're dangerously close.
"good girl," shoko coos. "my perfect girl."
"yours," you concur, completely unprompted. shoko's heart flutters. she just might have to keep you for herself after this, boyfriend be damned.
"that's right," she praises softly. she decides she's been mean enough for one evening, and curls her fingers how you like it. once, twice, three times, all while keeping a steady rhythm on your clit.
when you cum, it's with a cry of shoko's name. with your eyes rolling back, cheeks damp with tears, and your filthy pussy absolutely soaking her fingers.
shoko almost cums, too. but she saves her release for later, when she's in the privacy of her bedroom and the image of you spread out for her is still fresh in her memory.
"open wide, baby," she urges as she pulls out, and your lips part without protest so she can gently guide her glistening digits past them. the sensation of your tongue swirling around them almost sends her into overdrive. but, once again, she controls herself.
when she retracts her fingers, a vulgar trail of spit connects them to your lips, and she genuinely believes you're trying to send her into cardiac arrest.
"thank you, sho," you whisper, your voice hoarse and your body limp.
"it was my pleasure," she responds as she tenderly draws circles around your lower stomach with her fingertips. "literally."
you giggle and shift in place, patting your chest. "lie with me a sec."
husband!gojo keeps trying to play his shit music during sex for ‘ambiance.’ mdni ⟢
“satoru, this fuckass song is genuinely making me dryer.”
the genius thought it would be a cool experience to play his ‘freaky time :3’ playlist while he had you bent over on his cock. and you had previously allowed him to, thinking he’d play the weeknd or at least something semi-normal for the current situation. little did you know that this man has the worst music taste known to mankind.
“dance monkey brazilian phonk?” you groan in exasperation, feeling the haze of lust slowly leave your body as the unbearable beat drones on in the background. you glare at him, leaving his embrace to crawl to the laptop. you click skip on practically every song that plays next.
“whaaat?? it’s got that oomph to it!”
“there’s seriously no fucking way you can possibly listen to this—any of this—with a straight face.” you sigh, you try shuffling it again, and the nightcore version of thunder by imagine dragons pops up. you gift him a judgemental glance, and he simply smiles and shrugs back.
"oh come on, cant a man listen to his music in peace?" he flops onto his back, throwing an arm over his eyes with a theatrical sigh. "you’re killing me, baby. first you disrespect my immaculate playlist taste—" he pauses, glances at you
"—and now? you're skipping thunder too? that song basically encompasses my love for you in musical form! it has dramatic tension!" he pauses, before confessing "...also i may or may not have used it to hype me up the first time i asked you out... which! might i add, adds emotional depth to it too! now when i listen to it, it just reminds me of our looooove." he declares proudly, convinced by his own logic.
“satoru, if a shit song that sounds like a goddamn weather report is what reminds you of me, i’m going to slice your dick off in your sleep.”
you keep spamming the skip button so vigorously that you’re almost worried you’ll break the keyboard. at this point you’re so desperate to get back to him and what you two were doing before you almost let ‘astronaut in the ocean-afro beat style’ slide. but there was simply no way you could keep going with this absolute shit playing in the background.
finally. finally. after what feels like hours, something semi-normal plays on, and you let him pull you back onto the bed.
“you finally done? jeez, babe. i’m almost offended, you skipped like 90% of my playlist!”
“well 90% of it was shit.”
“90% of it was added with you in mind. i made that playlist specifically for this.”
“you’d seriously get down and dirty to some slowed down rasputin?”
“uh, hell yeah?? rasputin did manage to woo the queen, after all—just as i intend to do.“
you huff out a laugh and gently cup the side of his head, playing with his hair enough to brush it away from his temple. your pointer finger jabs at it, gesturing to his brain.
“half of the time, 'toru, i have no idea what’s going on up here.”
“well then ill inform you; 100% of it is thinking about you, 100% of the time” he beams proudly
“god, you’re so corny”
“only for you, babe—”
your little moment is yet again interrupted when his fucking laptop plays out some obscenely terrible music again. anxiety - slow reverb, to be exact.
at this point, you give up trying to set the mood with good music like normal people do, and, much to satoru’s inexplicable joy, you let him pull you back down onto him with no further complaints about the music.
“see! i knew it’d grow on you!”
“yeah, yeah. whatever. maybe i can block it out if you—fuck!”
you’re abruptly cut off as satoru picks up where he left off before, easing himself back inside your cunt while circling two fingers onto your clit. pressing down onto your lower stomach so that you could feel every vein on his dick. you were, in fact, not dryer because of the music as you claimed before, if anything, you only seem more eager for him.
and if you guys spent the rest of the afternoon fucking to ‘unholy - 10 hour loop,’ who the hell is gonna know?
.ᐟ.ᐟ teasing :: hand job :: mentions of bj :: dirty talking :: edging? :: kind of feral gojo?
⟶ helper!bf! series: yuji, choso, sukuna, geto
“would you say it’s more of a tingle,” your finger traced the edge of his cock. caressing the heavy curvature of his prominent tip. “or a shock wave?”
“b-baby — augh — holy shit!” his hands tangled into the sheets. squeeze and pulling onto the fluffy texture every time your hands simply grazed against his throbbing sex. “i don’t, please, oh god!” his eyes rolled in the back of his head. his mouth parting as a loud groan escaped right past the newly created opening. “i dunno baby, i don’t — i don’t, nnngh” his hips stuttered. shaking and trembling over their own rhythm. “jus’ — fuck! lemme cum”
“you promised, ‘toru” you deliberately sigh. your fingers curving into his shaft, as you strangled the base of his cock into your soft hand. “you said you helped me”
“i know, okay — baby, jus’,” a little whine trembled in his throat. “please, i can’t anymore — fuck! i’m begging you lovie” his lips quivered violently. his sculpted features shattering in a pouting, pleading mess.
“i l-love — mhm, augh! — you” he cried. trying his best to call upon your sweet side. allowing hope to devour his system for a wild moment as he so desperately hoped, you would just give in.
your soft, condescending, giggle completely destroyed his wavering sanity.
“tingle,” you asked again. your tone hardening as your torturous hand kept on teasing his abused sensitive cock. “or shock wave?”
“shock!” he screamed. his voice, now, fully broken. his body completely trembling - from head to toe as the outline of his agonized orgasm punched his guts deep into his innards. “it f-feels like ‘m — please! don’t stop. ‘m so f-fucking —“ a sudden gasps broke his incoherent ramble right in half. his tummy violently shook under your touch. almost retrieving itself into the depth of his guts.
“good boy, ‘toru” you praised him. nuzzling your nose into his burning cheek. “lemme write this down, yeah?” your lips grazed over his reddening flesh, leaving onto his skin a soft little trail of chaste kisses.
MDNI: adult content!ㅤcow hybrid!Gojoㅤmooingㅤcock/prostate milkingㅤanal pentration (male receiving)ㅤp in v sexㅤsome cock slappingㅤlight dumbificationㅤoverstimulationㅤlight breedingㅤpet names
ㅤCOW-BOY!GOJO whose tail whips around excitedly when it's his turn to be milked—he's been waiting patiently all day for you, fuming like a pretty boy all alone in this frilly pink room, cock angry and aching to be touched. Even when you're on time you're late in his eyes. "Where have you beeeeeen?" he whines the instant you arrive, blue eyes wild all over you, that saccharine voice and those incomprehensibly thick biceps straining tightly against the thick pink straps which you use to keep him in place. It's for good reason... 6'3 horny cow-boy with a 9" raging dick between his legs? Look, look; I know he's a saint in his voice and with that pretty pink-cheeked face, you'd think he's a sinister creature between his legs. You've got to keep him tied up, no matter how tempting it is to let him loose on your cunt, because he's untamed.
ㅤCOW-BOY!GOJO who has been the hardest to tame, taunting you every milking session, "Arm gettin' tired? Ya, tell me about it... got half the biceps I do, baby face... c'mon, just let me do it, it'll be faster—ngh!" but you can shut him up fairly easily by smacking his stiff cock around a little bit, it instantly has him biting up his rosy bottom lip and twisting his brows up. Oh how the tension just builds so easily from the base to the tip, knotting in his stomach, heart palpitating. It's just a few quick strokes later and he's throwing his head back and sighing sighs of deep bliss
ㅤCOW-BOY!GOJO whose swollen cock bulges so fatly in his tiny pink thong, which you put on him because he just looks so good in lace and ribbons. "Hot pink really suits you, 'toru." you coo at his burning ears, in response he's enhancing that piercing blue-eyed glare and clinkkkkk—that's him testing his restraints, strength of his anger alone nearly ripping them clean off the pole you've leashed him to. "When I fuckin' get my hands on you..." he grits, "—which is never gonna happen. Now be a good boy 'n let me milk you, 'kay?" you yank on his cock, squeezing just tightly enough to make hearts appear in his eyes
ㅤCOW-BOY!GOJO who can't daydream of anything but the obsessive, vivid vision of him your pink cunt swallowing up his hungry cock. He thinks about how he'd bend you over if he could, how he'd explore your pussy's depths with his fat bulbous tip, how he'd hug you from behind and suffocate you with his muscles, and oh yeah... how he'd pay you back by milking your clit dry of orgasms, and knead your tits.
ㅤCOW-BOY!GOJO whose horns stick out from his mess of cottony white hair as he grazes on your pussy—because all good milk cums from cows that are pussy-fed, after all!
ㅤCOW-BOY!GOJO whose dick is so swollen, head a deep crimson shade, tip nearly reaching a purplish hue. He's got the cutest pink asshole, 'n oh it puckers nervously as you bend him over into proper milking position. His fuchsia pink cock always produces such thick, creamy milk, too.
ㅤCOW-BOY!GOJO who moos out loudly, drool appearing at the corners of his smirking mouth the exact instant your soft hand glides down the length of his dick, "Yesyesyes! that feels sooo good!" his hips constantly twitch and buck into your hand.
ㅤCOW-BOY!GOJO who, despite his tall talk, has a cock that's much shyer than his personality hints to, and so he needs a little extra help to tip over the edge... so you strap up and dick him down because nothing makes him cum harder than having his ass taken from behind. "Fuuuck,"—ding!ding!ding!—"I love you, nn!"—ding!ding!ding!—"Uh, uh, uh, please!"—ding!ding!ding!—yes that's the resounding ring of the big fat cowbell around his neck swinging back and forth as you pound into him with brisk strokes
ㅤCOW-BOY!GOJO who babbles about how much he loves your strap, how deeply he feels it in his plush ass. He grows teary-eyed, mouth dangling open and cheeks blushing all strawberry-milk as you absolutely ruin his body with orgasm after orgasm. "Been a bad boy, y'know?" you croon at his ear, burying the hot pink strap so deeply inside him that it has him curling his toes and shuddering, "now 'm gonna fuck you dumb dumb dumb." you promise.
ㅤCOW-BOY!GOJO who moos a series of sniffling thankyous when you spank his ass until it's ruby-red bright, and moos loudest right before he's about to cum for you
ㅤCOW-BOY!GOJO who needs you to kiss him while he's being fucked, because feeling your tongue in his mouth makes his dick swell fatly and twitch like crazy. Yes so okay maybe he'll moo softly in your mouth on purpose, just to drive you crazy, and yes so okay maybe this is all part of his master plan to turn the tables on you when you're completely dumbed down by his greedy lips and cute mooing
ㅤCOW-BOY!GOJO who nuzzles you affectionately but also whines after you when you try to leave—"Wha— where ya goin'? You haven't even milked me dry yet... I've still a g-got a little more..." and oh there his dick goes popping up again even though there's cum still freshly dribbling down his plump balls. Only when you've rubbed his dick raw does he feel sated, balls wrung dry and happily but sorely resting between his cum-streaked inner thighs
ㅤCOW-BOY!GOJO who has those massive, pillowy pecs that you're honestly surprised can't produce milk, but you found out quickly that he loves getting them massaged and sucked on while you pump his cock. Hello? The moans it pulls out of his throat is insane. He shifts his legs around, squirming hard when you grope his enormous milkers. He's got 'specially sensitive nipples which he needs tweaked and pinched or he can't cum, but when you toy with his body like that his cum doesn't shoot straight—he shoots like a hose that's lost control.
ㅤCOW-BOY!GOJO whose ears twitch and tongue lolls out when you hook up a a pumping fleshlight machine on his overstimulated cock. The feeling of getting suctioned makes him moo harder, louder, tail flicking around and ears fluttering. "F-fuck... you're not— you're not playing fair." he hiccoughs, dick getting absolutely swallowed down the jelly-clear toy, cheeks all wet with tears, "stop bein' fuckin' lazy 'n milk me with your own pussy—ahuhn, fuck! Cumming!"
ㅤCOW-BOY!GOJO whose cheeks flush red, as you milk him so much he nearly passes out, his head drooping and white tufts of hair all standing on end, nearly wrung to the point of exhaustion only to be brought back to life by the smell of your cunt sliding up to his face like an HP-boosting dish
ㅤCOW-BOY!GOJO whose dick grows angry and jealous when you milk others before him, and if it's well past his milking time and you're late? Suddenly the man who's usually ass-up now has you ass-up, pinned to the floor by both his body weight and the thrusts of his heavy cock, "Fuuuck I've been waiting so long t' fuck this pretty pussy... god you're so soft... silly girl, shouldn't have left me alone for so long to plot and scheme... now 'm gonna show you what pent-up frustration feels like." he growls in your ear, pinning both your hands behind your back and beginning to drill his cruelly big cock into your weeping pussy, balls smacking heavy into you each time he lands a swinging blow to your ass with his hips, "Fuck, fuck! You're so perfect, your pussy wraps 'round my dick like she loves me... nn, you love me, don't you? You love me, you love me, tell me you love me, tell me you love me while I'm this fuckin' deep in your perfect little pussy!" he obsesses, fucking you to the point you can't string a sentence together, only lay there and take his cock and cum over and over on it
ㅤCOW-BOY!GOJO whose whimpery voice suddenly turns into feral grunts as he humps your hot pussy, "Why did you let the others get milked by your sweet, sweet cunt and not me? Were you scared of how good my dick would feel?" he pouts, fat dick hammering deeper n deeper, as he holds you down tightly, "I've been such a good boy for you... now you're gonna be agood girl for me and let me fertilize you... how I should have been doing all this time."
ㅤCOW-BOY!GOJO whose one massive hand ends up milking at your perky breasts, while the other delivers punishment to your puffy clit, burrowing his dick deep into your cunt until he's got you spraying everywhere, and the fucker is crooning at your ear, "Oh, is someone feelin' overstimulated already? Sucks doesn't it? Oh, you stupid little doll, you really thought you had me safely tied up huh?—now your sweet little pussy lips are stretched open on some big, mean cock, how terrible." he taunts you horribly, pearly white teeth glinting as he manhandles you into whatever position he deems optimal for breeding, "Now 'm gonna do what you did, 'n fuck you dumb dumb dumb, okay?"
when you're unbearably horny and have no one to ride out your ovulation cycle with, your good friend gojo satoru offers to step up. you decide to venture over to his lavish apartment and let him help relieve some of the unbearable throbbing between your legs you allow him to lay you on your side in his spacious bed and cuddle you from behind, slipping just the bulbous tip of his big cock inside you while you play with your pussy. and when you're this sensitive and needy, it doesn't take much for you to be leaking juices all over satoru's cock.
he has to stuff to fingers in your mouth so you don't scream loud enough to wake up his roomate, geto. still, you've quickly become a whiny mess just from his very shallow thrusts into your swollen folds, the precum leaking from his tip coating your hole and making it even more slippery and lubricated.
you clench down desperately on him, needing more stimulation. the fact that you're cockdrunk just from getting the tip in you, or that it's your best friend who's doing this has vacated your mind entirely. "didn't know you were this easy, baby." satoru coos in your ear as you let out a hiccuped sob around his fingers when he pushes just a little deeper, then pulls back out to leave you with just the tip again. "creaming on my cock when you're barely getting anything from me. what if i put the whole thing in, hm?" he rolls his hips forward, your hole sucking in about two inches of his thick cock before he groans in your ear and pulls back.
"look here," he whispers, tilting your chin down so you can see where your pussy swallows him up, and he slips his fingers through yours to help you toy with your folds. " 'm stretchin' you out so pretty. makes me wanna fill you up all the way." you whine at his words, unable to hold back any longer, and your head lolls back on his shoulder while you feel yourself cumming on his dick for the second time already. maybe you'll ask for half his cock. that's still okay for friends, surely.
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ᓚᘏ𑄝 you’re only able to sleep with satoru’s fat cock stuffed in you — crybaby!reader
satoru’s got you tucked against his chest in the dark bedroom, legs tangled, your face buried in the crook of his neck while fat tears keep slipping down your cheeks. you’re still sniffling from earlier—some stupid little thing that set you off—and now you’re all shaky and needy, clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.
“shh baby,” he whispers, voice soft and low, lips brushing your temple. one arm’s wrapped tight around your waist, the other hand guiding his thick cock right up against your entrance. he’s already leaking, smearing precum over your folds, but he doesn’t rush. just presses the fat head in slow, inch by inch, stretching your warm wet walls until you whimper into his skin.
“there we go… take it all for me. yeah, just like that.” he sinks deeper, groaning quietly when your cunt flutters and sucks him in greedily. you’re so full it aches in the best way, that heavy stretch making fresh tears pool in your lashes. he bottoms out with a soft grunt, balls pressed snug to your ass, and stays perfectly still for a second so you can feel every throbbing vein, every pulse of him inside you.
your hips twitch, trying to grind, but he holds you firm. “no moving, crybaby. just keep me warm. let me stuff this pretty pussy full so you can sleep.”
you whine, high and pitiful, nails digging into his shoulders. “satoru… ‘s too much… feels so deep…”
“i know, sweet girl. i know.” he kisses the corner of your eye, licking away a tear. “but you need it, don’t you? need me stretching you open till you stop crying and drift off.”
he rocks just the tiniest bit—barely an inch in and out—enough to make you gasp and clench hard around him, but not enough to build anything. just gentle, soothing rolls that keep you stuffed and full and fuzzy-headed. his hand slides down to cup your ass, keeping you pinned so you can’t squirm away even if you wanted to.
“good girl… feel how thick i am? splitting you so wide. gonna stay like this all night. my cock’s your pacifier tonight, yeah? suck on it with that greedy little cunt till you pass out.”
your sobs turn softer, breathier, turning into sleepy hiccups as the fullness lulls you. every time you start to tense he gives another slow grind, stirring his cock inside you until your eyes flutter and your grip on him loosens.
“that’s it… cry all you want, baby. i’ve got you. stuffed so full you can’t think about anything else.” he presses a kiss to your wet cheek, voice dropping even lower. “sleep now. i’m not going anywhere. be a good girl and let go.”
your breathing evens out slow, lashes fluttering shut, tears drying on your cheeks while his cock throbs deep inside, warm and heavy and perfect. he doesn’t move again—just holds you close, buried to the hilt, letting your sleepy pussy milk him softly until you’re finally quiet, drifting off with him still filling every inch of you.
utahime’s been acting strange for weeks. not outright mean, just… off.
short answers, tight smiles, eyes that flick away the second you walk into the room. you catch her staring sometimes when you’re laughing with the group, arms crossed so hard her knuckles go white. you ask if you did something wrong. she says no, and changes the subject.
you finally corner her after a mission briefing. shoko’s there too, lighting a cigarette in the corner of the lounge. “utahime, talk to me,” you say, blocking the door. “you’ve been weird around me forever. what’s going on?”
her cheeks flush the way they do when she’s angry or embarrassed. shoko exhales smoke toward the ceiling, smirking. “tell her,” shoko says. “or i will.” utahime glares at her, then sighs “it’s not you. it’s… the way he looks at you.”
you blink. “who?”
shoko snorts. “gojo, obviously.”
“what are you talking about? satoru looks at everyone like he’s plotting something annoying.”
utahime shakes her head. “not like this. not with you.” her voice drops. “he looks at you like he’s in love with you.”
the words hit harder than they should. you laugh, because it’s ridiculous. “no he doesn’t. we’re just… we hook up sometimes. that’s it.” shoko raises an eyebrow. utahime just stares like you’re missing something obvious.
that night you’re at his place, like you have been a dozen times before. friends with benefits. simple. no strings. he texts you when he’s bored or horny or both, and you come over because the sex is insane and you’re not seeing anyone else right now. that’s all.
he opens the door shirtless, sweatpants low on his hips, blindfold off for once. those stupidly blue eyes crinkle when he grins. “took you long enough.”
you roll your eyes, step inside. he crowds you against the wall before the door even clicks shut, mouth on your neck, hands already sliding under your shirt. it’s easy. familiar. he knows exactly how to touch you—fingers rough, mouth hot, voice low in your ear telling you how wet you are already.
he fucks you on the couch first, your legs over his shoulders, his hips snapping hard enough to make you see stars. you come twice before he flips you over, pulls your hips up and drives back in, groaning your name like it hurts. he’s big, always has been, stretching you perfectly, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl. he doesn’t stop until you’re shaking, until he’s spilling deep inside you with his forehead pressed between your shoulder blades.
after, he carries you to bed. he slides in behind you, arm heavy over your waist, nose buried in your hair. this part always feels too intimate, but you never tell him to stop.
utahime’s words creep back in.
he looks at you like he’s in love with you.
you think about the way he kisses your temple sometimes when he thinks you’re asleep. how he stocks your favorite snacks without asking. how he texts you dumb memes at 3am just to make you laugh. how he always makes sure you come first, second, third—like your pleasure matters more than his.
no. it’s just sex. really good sex.
he’s never said he wants more. you’ve never asked.
but lying there in the dark, his breathing slow and even against your back, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your stomach… you wonder.
he fucked you slow the last round, face to face, eyes locked on yours the whole time. not smirking, not teasing—just watching. like he was memorizing you. when you came he kissed you deep, swallowing every sound, holding you like you might disappear. friends with benefits don’t do that. do they?
you turn in his arms, face to face. he stirs, cracks one eye open.
“can’t sleep?” he mumbles, voice rough.
you study his face in the dim light. he looks younger without the blindfold. vulnerable. “satoru,” you whisper. “what are we doing?”
he blinks, fully awake now. for once he doesn’t deflect. just looks at you, thumb brushing your cheek. “whatever you want,” he says quietly.
your heart stutters.
utahime was right.
he’s been looking at you like that for months. and maybe—maybe—you’ve been looking back the same way.
you lean in, kiss him soft and slow. not hungry. not fucking. just kissing. when you pull back his eyes are wide, startled. hopeful.
you don’t say it yet. but you think it. maybe this isn’t just benefits anymore.
it really slipped out of him the same way a sigh does, or a habit, or the way he always reached for you in his sleep even when he was already late.
it was early. too early. the room was still gray, that soft in-between color where the sun hadn’t committed yet. you were half-awake, tangled in sheets that smelled like his shampoo and your detergent mixed together. gojo was moving around quietly, or at least trying to. drawers opened and closed. fabric rustled. his phone buzzed once and he groaned under his breath.
you were awake enough to notice him lean down, awake enough to feel his lips press into your hair, your temple, the corner of your mouth. it was automatic. he did it every morning he left before you.
“don’t forget to eat,” you mumbled.
he hummed, distracted, already reaching for his blindfold off the nightstand. “yeah, yeah.”
then and completely unguarded—
“see you later, princess. i love you.”
it landed wrong.
not wrong like bad. wrong like when something precious falls and you don’t hear it hit the ground right away.
your eyes were fully open now.
it took half a second for your brain to catch up, to realize you hadn’t dreamed it, that you hadn’t imagined the weight of those words settling in the space between you. your heart did something stupid and incredibly fast, like it was trying to outrun your thoughts.
he froze.
you could tell the exact moment it hit him because his hand stopped mid-motion and the blindfold dangling uselessly from his fingers.
there was a long pause and the air shifted.
slowly, he turned.
you were already looking at him.
his eyes widened just a fraction. barely noticeable to anyone else but you.
“. . .you heard,” he said.
a realization.
you swallowed. your mouth was dry all of a sudden. “yeah.”
another pause. this one heavier.
gojo opened his mouth, closed it. ran a hand through his hair and laughed.
he was clearly nervous. you could see it.
“i—” he started, then stopped again. “okay. wait.”
he stepped closer to the bed like he was approaching something that might bite him.
he sat on the edge, elbows on his knees and his head tilted back for a second like he was bracing himself.
“you heard that,” he said again.
you nodded.
he exhaled slowly, like he was counting down from ten in his head. when he looked at you again, there was no teasing in his eyes, just him. stripped down and very awake.
“i didn’t mean to—” he stopped himself, lips pressing together. “no. that’s not true. i did mean it. i just . . . wasn’t planning on saying it. like that.”
your chest felt tight.
“it’s okay,” you said quickly, maybe too quickly. “toru, you don’t have to—”
“no,” he cut in. “don’t do that.”
he looked down at his hands, flexed his fingers like he was grounding himself. when he spoke again, his voice was quieter.
“i’ve been thinking it for a while.”
that made your breath catch.
he glanced back up at you, almost wary. “i just didn’t want to mess things up. you know how i am. i talk without thinking. i didn’t want it to sound like that.”
“like what?” you asked softly.
“like i didn’t take it seriously.”
he laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “ironic, huh.”
you sat up a little, pulling the sheet around you. the room felt smaller now, more intimate, like the walls had leaned in when he said it.
“i don’t think it sounded unserious,” you said.
he studied your face, searching for something. fear. regret. anything.
“what did it sound like?” he asked.
you hesitated. your heart was still pounding, but there was a warmth spreading through you now.
“honest,” you said.
his shoulders dropped. just a little.
“yeah,” he murmured. “that sounds about right.”
there was a moment where neither of you spoke. the city outside hummed faintly. a car passed. somewhere, someone laughed. life kept going like nothing had just shifted on its axis.
gojo reached out, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.
you let him.
he squeezed your hand once, like he was reassuring himself you were real and that you were still here.
“i don’t need you to say it back,” he said. “not now. not if you’re not ready. i just— i needed you to know i didn’t say it because i was half-asleep.”
you smiled. “you were definitely half-asleep.”
he snorted despite himself. “maybe a little. but the feelings were very awake. trust me.”
you took a breath. let it out.
“i like knowing,” you said.
his lips curved into something gentle.
“yeah?” he asked.
“yeah.”
he stood then, reluctantly, like the world was pulling him away by force. he leaned down again, his forehead resting against yours.
“i’ll see you tonight,” he said.
you nodded.
this time, when he kissed you goodbye, it was slower. intentional. like he was sealing something.
he paused at the door, his hand was on the frame.
“. . . i love you,” he said again.
no panic this time.
you smiled into the pillow after he left, your heart still racing, already knowing that nothing was the same anymore — and somehow, everything was exactly right.
<synopsis> your experienced boyfriend teaches you a few things
A/N: just some smut practice that i literally just whipped up, this probably can be added to the fics i have that can probably fit into satosugu x selectively mute!reader so this definitely counts as apart of that. its not like ive been neglecting that series, no way. and if you say otherwise, you're crazy...
cw: geto suguru x fem!reader, afab reader, fluffy smut, reader is a virgin, shy!reader, petnames (angel, princess, baby, etc.), brief oral (m! receiving), fingering, reader is implied to be short/small (not necessarily skinny though), lots and lots of praise, a liiiittle bit of biting, thats all !! MDNI
hope you enjoy !! 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯
"yeah, baby, look at you go.."
suguru's head tips back against the sofa, a soft groan leaving his lips. one hand is buried in your hair, the other gently stroking your cheek with his thumb. your movements are slow and timid, gently bobbing you head up and down, suckling on his tip and your hand squeezing what you can't fit in your mouth.
"doin' so- ngh.. good.."
he grunts, his hand tightening in your hair, though when you whine, he softens his grip again, whispering a small apology. you lean back, settling with just kitten licking his length, paying most attention to the sensitive underside of his cock.
"baby- baby- fuck.. stop. stop."
you stop immediately, looking up at him worriedly. his chest heaves up and down, his eyes still closed. did you accidentally hurt him? he told you not to use teeth.. did they scrape him?
"'m sorry-"
he opens one of his eyes, looking down at you. fuck, you're so cute, always wanting to please him.
"nah, it's okay, just got too close. you did so good angel.."
he pulls you up into his lap, fingers brushing against your soaked panties, the cute white ones with a pink bow on the hem. his knuckles nudge your clit, making you squeak and jump in his hold, but he just shushes you, his lips pressed against your neck, sucking and biting your soft skin.
"ngh-.. sugu.."
you whimper, biting your lip to supress your noises as his fingers snake under you panties, slowly circling your sensitive little nub, coaxing your hips to start rolling with his movements.
"mh? you feeling good?"
"..mh- mhm.. yeah.."
your thighs tremble as you straddle suguru's lap, wet, sticky noises of him playing with your pussy sounding louder than ever. he dips his fingers lower, slowly sheathing them inside of you, coaxing a high pitched, barely audible whine from your pretty, bitten lips.
"you ever done this to yourself before?"
he asks, kissing up your neck, licking a stripe against your jaw as your thighs clamp around his hand.
"mh- doesn't.. feel like anything when i do it.."
"cute."
he chuckles, taking your hand in his free hand, examining your fingers.
"these are too small to do anything good, huh?"
he says, pinching one of your fingers, making you nod. his thumb joins the onslaught of pleasure, continuing those gentle circles on your clit, your whimpers becoming more frequent and more high pitched.
"you're squeezin' so tight princess, gonna come?"
his lips decend back down to your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin deeper and deeper as you get closer and closer.
suddenly, you squeal, and your panties get all the more wet as you writhe on his fingers, small hiccups of pleasure escaping you.
"good girl.. there you go.. did so good.."
he praises, leaving kisses to your cheeks as a tear slips out your eye.
"that good, huh?"
he licks the tear away as you nod, your hands gripping onto his shoulders as you breathing evens out. suguru pulls his fingers out of you, letting you lay against his chest. he's still hard, pulsating against your thigh, but you seem like you've had enough.
"want any more, angel? or are you done?"
his voice is much softer now, gently whispered against your ear. your eyes are shut, your head tucked against his shoulder. you hesitate a moment before murmuring your response,
"..no more.."
he nods, rubbing his hand up and down your back, keeping his lips pressed to the side of your head.
"no more, got it.."
he smiles, holding you close as you come down from your high. you've come so far in the past few weeks. you used to be so nervous when he would touch you, even if it was innocent. but he's managed to get you out of your shell little by little.
"so proud of you.. my pretty princess.. did so so well.."
So like imagine if bunny hybrid x gojo x geto. But like bunny is sick? Like they have to take care of her!
sick bunny
<synopsis> satoru and suguru find a little bunny hybrid on the streets, it's no surprise that a week later she falls ill
A/N: thank you for the request !! if anyone reading this would like to request a hybrid fic, check the rules here !!
cw: satosugu x fem!reader, fluff/comfort, bunny!reader, owners!satosugu, brief allusions to mucus and gross sick stuff but not really, petnames (bunny, princess,)
hope you enjoy !! ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১
they found you on the streets, all curled up in a damp box next to the busiest hybrid shelter in the city. you were shivering, covered in dirt and wearing a tatty little tshirt and some shorts that you probably found in a dumpster. they couldn't just leave you there, so suguru scooped you up in his coat, took you home, and cleaned you up with the help of his boyfriend.
it's been about a week now, and while you're still very skittish you're the sweetest thing ever. you sleep at the foot of their bed every night, you follow them around the apartment, and you let them dress you up in the cutest little outfits.
it was all going smoothly for that week, and then one morning, they couldn't find you.
they looked all over the apartment after they realised you weren't in their bed like you normally are. satoru, ever the worrywart, was frantic, searching for you like his life depended on it, while suguru stayed calm, simply shaking a bag of your favourite snacks while calling your name.
it took them twenty minuted to find you hidden away in a cupboard, shivering and sniffling, the only thing that gave you away was a sneeze.
"oh bunny.. come here.."
satoru coos, pulling you into his arms, stroking your floppy ears. you cough, tucking in on yourself as he takes you to the kitchen, sitting you on the counter to check your temperature. 38°.. definitely a fever. he feels around your body, feeling how hot you are, and how wheezy your breathing is. it really doesn't sound good, but it's not surprising since you've been on the streets for god knows how long.
"there she is,"
suguru joins the two of you in the kitchen, letting out a sigh of relief to finally see you. though his relief is short lived when he hears you cough. its rough, sounds like it hurts, and he sees you swallowing afterwards. must've coughed up something. he sends a look to satoru, though satoru is too focused on assessing you.
"she doesn't sound good.. worse than a cold.."
he mumbles, stroking over you ears to soothe you, letting you hide your face against his shoulder. he rubs your back, brushing over your twitchy, little tail.
"do we need to go to the doctors?"
he turns to suguru who's already getting some cough syrup and headache medicine for you from the drawers. despite the heat you're radiating, you're shivering in satoru's arms. he presses a kiss to your forehead, as he massages the base of your ears, making you lean into him even more.
"i think it's just a chest infection, we'll keep an eye on her."
he says, tipping your head up to feed you a spoonful of the cough syrup, making your nose scrunch up as you swallow it. yuck. to wash it down, suguru holds a glass of water to your lips, letting you take a few sips before satoru takes you to the sofa. he lays you down, tucking a blanket around you and turning on the tv for you. he sits next to you, letting you rest your head on his lap as he stroked your ears and plays with your hair. the concern is evident on his face, constantly looking down at you and checking your temperature while suguru cooks you something light in the kitchen.
"..you okay, princess..?"
satoru asks softly, frowning as you shake your head. his poor, little bunny. it's only been a week but satoru feels so protective over you already. he wants to give you a good life now, a chest infection isn't any way to start that off.
"stop moping, she'll be fine."
suguru walks over, holding a bowl of soup for you, a glass of water, and some painkillers. you only have a few spoonfuls of the soup, and you take the painkillers which do help to ease the aches in your body. you're mainly just tired, so you curl up once again, your feet on suguru's lap and your head on satoru's. it's hard to breathe but the cough syrup and soup cleared you up a little, making sleep come a little easier to you than last night. it doesn't take long for you to doze off, snoring louder than usual due to your blocked nose. the two men find it cute though, keeping an eye on you as you recover throughout the week.
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