𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮𝐬

bia | she | 20's

[storusangel]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴ

ᴄᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ ᴅɪᴀɢɴᴏꜱɪꜱ: in dire need of mean!gojo :(

ʟᴀᴛᴇꜱᴛ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴꜱ:

mean!satoru (dosage unknown)

daddy dom!satoru (dosage unkown)

bffs older brother!gojo (1.5k mg)

ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴꜱ:

tutor!satosugu (4.5k mg)

impact play w satosugu (dosage unknown)

ᴘʜᴀʀᴍᴀᴄʏ

ꜱᴄʜᴇᴅᴜʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴀᴘᴘᴏɪɴᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ

©storusangel any and all forms of modifications, reposts, and translation of my work are prohibited.

[sadisticstarlight]

☆what if gojo got fed up with his favorite curse user hanging around geto?☆

minors do not interact

i’m sick of everyone (my friend who reads my fics) telling me i can’t live my truth (call the reader a good girl) anyway, this is my vengeance

☆cw: READER GETS GOOD GIRL'D, the most dubious of consent, praise kink AND a lil degradation, blindfolds, cage/bondage, forced orgasm, kidnapping, mind break?, dehumanization, actually kinda pet play, smut, yandere, voyeurism, stalking, overstimulation, dacryphilia, possessive behavior, toys, cum-eating☆

reposted from ao3, this is a kinktober what if scenario from a long fic so there's no context but the reader has a dream based technique <3.

“Mind if I join you, curse user?”

Satoru could tolerate a lot. Your testier moods and oscillating uncertainty. His rampant desire and growing impatience. Your struggle to trust him while simultaneously becoming increasingly dependent on him. His many restrictions and the excess effort required to circumvent them. 

Your need for control. 

His need to possess you.

The appearance of Geto Suguru had been Satoru’s final straw.

You wanted this.

That was the only conclusion Satoru could come to after watching you go about your day.

It wasn't unusual to find you at the park late at night, what was unusual was your open correspondence with a notorious curse user. Gambling with the wrath of jujutsu society wasn’t something that you took lightly; even the idea of associating with the “real” Gojo Satoru was something you struggled with. 

There was no way you knew what you were doing.

Unless.

Something that Gojo refused to entertain was your knowing involvement with Suguru’s villainous activities. If you were doing this on purpose, it had to be more about the effects your actions would have on Satoru than anything else.

So, you wanted this.

For whatever reason, you wanted Satoru riled up, there was no other explanation within the strongest sorcerer's grasp. Your goal must have been to provoke him, to push him into acting on his desires. You were shy about your feelings toward Satoru, afraid of the implications of your obvious affections, more terrified still of the changes that would come with their realization. 

Satoru knew all of that. How could he not after endless hours interrogating you? There was nothing about you that was out of Satoru’s reach, his knowledge of you was only as incomplete as his ability to pose the correct questions.

He had apparently been missing some important details.

“Do I have a choice?”

Or maybe the final straw was your adorable, angry face. Or your indignation. Or the way you acted like Satoru wouldn't do anything.

He would.

“No.”

Satoru didn't bother with any additional formalities. He just took you, consequences be damned.

His hands were out of his pockets before he could stop himself, his long arms coiling around you and pulling you close. He wasn't even consciously aware of where he was teleporting; Satoru acted on pure instinct.

He was glad he did it that way; you started fighting the moment you were able to process what was happening. It took little effort to subdue you, but you were working yourself up, bringing yourself to tears in your frustration. Satoru knew he needed to do something about that; his girl wasn't a crybaby over nothing. Your tantrum became so intense that Satoru began to fear that you might accidentally expand your domain in your distress.

It was understandable; you weren't prepared for what he was putting you through, even if it was something you had been asking for, and you certainly weren't ready for what he had in mind next.

Maybe you would do better with a little less stimulation.

✩˚⋆˙‧₊ ⊹˚★˚⊹ ₊‧˙⋆˚✩

The room you were in was so dark that you were almost unable to see anything. You didn’t quite understand how you had gotten there, but you knew Gojo had something to do with it. He had snatched you from the park, grabbing you and pulling you close before inexplicably moving you to another location.

You were still somewhere between deciding if this was real or a dream.

There wasn’t much to go off of, the darkness shrouding the room leaving little in the way of visual clues. The couch you were seated on was exceedingly nice, the coffee table before you cleared of anything that you could utilize.

When you had first arrived, you had made your displeasure known, though you knew there wasn’t much of a point given who your opponent was. The feelings overwhelmed you, the brewing anxiety you had been feeling for months welling up and spilling over. You might have been somewhere near coming to terms with it all, but then Gojo started muttering to himself about ‘additional restrictions ’.

‧₊ ⊹˚★˚⊹ ₊‧

You whimpered pathetically as Gojo secured the blindfold.

“Gojo, please–”

“Shhh–” Gojo shushed you. “Don't touch it, baby, I just got it perfect.”

Your fingers twitched the moment Gojo's hands fell away from your face.

“Tch–” Gojo scolded. “And you were being so good sitting still for me.”

“I'm scared.” You protested, eyes searching for him despite the fabric obscuring your view.

“You've got nothing to be afraid of–”

You could practically hear the smile on Gojo's face as he rubbed reassuring circles into your back.

“–so just relax for me. I don't want to have to take more privileges from you.”

You folded your hands linking them together tightly to keep yourself from tearing off the band of cloth across your eyes, releasing a shaking breath as you squeezed.

“Good girl.” Gojo praised, planting a kiss on your forehead. His scent filled your nose, a unique sweetness that brought you comfort with each breath. He smelled extra good that day, like honey and musk and a brisk, winter wind.

He kept you close, letting you lean on him as he led you along. You were brought to a soft surface, what you suspected was a bed. You dared unlace your fingers, touching the silken sheets beneath you.

“Sit tight, I just need to make a few adjustments; I wasn't planning on having you here tonight.” Gojo explained, his voice soft and soothing.

You could hear him moving around the room, the sound of fabric sliding and metal joints squeaking.

“Spur of the moment kidnapping?” You quipped, your nerves making you unable to restrain your tongue the way you could your hands.

“Exactly right–you're so smart.” Gojo affirmed, voice warm with pride. “You know I wouldn’t do something like this unless it was necessary.”

“You know you're crazy, right?” You smirked, falling into your routine with Gojo with surprising ease despite the situation.

“Oh, baby.” Gojo laughed. “I'm the craziest.”

There was a mix of heat and anticipation pooling in your belly, the real questions you couldn’t bring yourself to ask bubbling just under the surface. The idea of what he might do with you made you as nervous as it did horny. You wondered what had happened, if there was something in particular that you had done or said led to this, or if this was always coming.

Gojo had said he hadn’t planned on having you here tonight, which probably meant this was something you wouldn't have escaped entirely, but that you were ultimately responsible for the timing.

You jumped when Gojo’s hands found you again, nearly stumbling as he helped you up. He walked you over a few paces, then stopped you short. There was an unusual feeling in the air, something sharp and scary and starved.

“Get on your hands and knees.” Gojo purred, acting like it wasn’t the most nervewracking thing he had said yet.

“Gojo–” You hesitated. You were unsure how to navigate the increasingly concerning demands of the strongest sorcerer, but you had an uneasy feeling that he was going to be happy to help you with that.

“Don't start misbehaving now, baby—I might think you want me to lose control.” Gojo’s words were coated in a layer of playfulness, but his muted impatience was palpable even in your blinded state. 

You had half a mind to keep going anyway, but there was something dangerous in Gojo's tone that made you think twice, an electricity between you that told you he wasn't in the mood to joke around.

Slowly and carefully, you lowered yourself to your knees, bending at the hips until your hands were on the floor.

“There we go—not so bad, is it?” Gojo cooed, his hand skimming over your hair and down your back. “I know you want to listen, it’s just hard to know what to trust, right?”

“Yeah–” Your answer was more of a shaky exhale, an acceptance that you needed to agree with Gojo in order to move forward.

“Easy fix.” Gojo said confidently. “All you have to do is trust me.”

✩˚⋆˙‧₊ ⊹˚★˚⊹ ₊‧˙⋆˚✩

Satoru wished he had been recording. Watching you cautiously crawl into the cage he had prepared for you was definitely going down as one of the highlights of his life. You were adorable, trying so hard to be a good girl for him when you were clearly terrified.

In truth, he had hoped things wouldn't come to this. It was a little extreme, an option that he would have preferred to utilize as a novelty rather than to fulfill a need.

Still, it was nice. Soft and safe and secure, a perfectly acceptable accommodation until Satoru could arrange for something better. The general appearance would have spooked you, all sturdy bars and locking doors and strange holes in the sides, so it was really for the best that Satoru took your sight when he did. You could have it back later when things weren’t so new and difficult. Satoru could only pray that would happen soon; he had a feeling he would prefer if you could look into his eyes when he made you cum.

The sight of the realization playing out on your face when Satoru locked the door behind you had been better than he expected. The intense fear quickly melted into curiosity as you took it all in, feeling the bars and bedding around you with your hands. When you found one of the holes, your fingers tracing the smooth, silvery steel, you didn’t flinch, only continuing to explore and test the boundaries of your new enclosure. 

It turned him on.

Satoru couldn’t help but imagine how you would look once he had properly introduced you to those anomalies in the cage’s structure. The holes were just large enough for you to be able to comfortably fit your head through, the six of them situated at varying heights around the cage for versatility of use. He had gotten the idea while watching adoptable cats slip in and out of their ‘cat portals’, thinking about how he could utilize something like that for his own little stray.

“When can I take it off?” You asked tentatively, touching the band of cloth across your eyes.

“I’ll take it off when you’re ready, baby.” Satoru smiled, pleased that your level of compliance was already coming along. “We're doing this for your own good–you know that, yeah?”

There was a beat of silence, a moment where you considered your answer.

“Yeah.” You whispered. “I know.”

✩˚⋆˙‧₊ ⊹˚★˚⊹ ₊‧˙⋆˚✩

Lying to Gojo felt wrong. 

It wasn’t the fact that you were able to do it so easily, but instead the act itself. He was being nice enough, gentle in his own way. You hadn’t ever experienced a version of Gojo that was soft through and through, there was always a kernel of something darker lurking beneath all the sweetness and fluff, but he certainly wasn’t being harsh with you.

You understood your situation well enough. There had been an escalation in his deviant behavior directly prior to him kidnapping you; the stalking had become so prolific that it was something you expected rather than something you feared. That wasn’t to say you weren’t scared, you absolutely were, but it was a comfortable anxiety. You knew when to expect him, what he might do or say. None of that was unmanageable.

The cage, however, was a lot to process.

Once you realized where Gojo had put you, you were glad that he had taken your sight. He was right; you would have freaked out if he had let you see everything.

Honestly, you did freak out—you were just able to keep most of those feelings inside.

You knew he was watching you, his powerful eyes probably zeroed in on the speed and intensity of your heart beating in your chest. That alone made you wonder if there was a point in you lying to him at all; Gojo could read you like a book, and he had been gathering information on you long enough that he only needed to skim it anyway.

But there wasn’t anything you could do about what was happening if you made things harder on yourself, so you lied and agreed that what Gojo was doing was the best possible thing for you.

You weren’t even sure what you had done to land you in that cage, but you had a feeling that it ultimately didn’t matter.

The sturdy bars didn’t even rattle when you shook them, the edges all expertly welded together. You were beginning to accept that this wasn’t something Gojo had thrown together last minute; you were always going to end up in this cage. It might have even been decided on your very first meeting, a fate as inescapable as your current accommodations.

You didn’t dare touch the blindfold, falling asleep with your hands between your knees in hopes that you wouldn’t paw at it in your sleep.

‧₊ ⊹˚★˚⊹ ₊‧

You weren’t sure how long you had been in the dark.

It could have been three days, it could have been a week, it could have been less than twenty-four hours. Time moved differently when you couldn’t see. The days all blended together, marked by irregular activities. Gojo would make himself known when it was time to care for you, but you knew he was around more often than just those moments.

It was demeaning. He regularly exercised his power over you, providing you care while subtly reminding you that as things stood, Gojo owned you. He could wrap it up as nicely as he wanted, but at the end of the day, Gojo was keeping you in a cage against your will.

At first, he didn’t let you out except to walk you to the restroom. He fed you by hand, utilizing the holes in the cage to deliver bites directly to you, praising you heavily when you opened your mouth.

Good girl, do it again, open wide for me~

After you had proved yourself compliant, Gojo let you out to stretch your legs more regularly, leading you around wherever he was keeping you while he prattled on about nothing. Sometimes he told you stories, apologizing that you couldn’t read or watch something on your own for entertainment.

I know you’re bored, baby—don’t worry, we’ll have lots of fun once you’re better adjusted.

There was always a tiny hope inside you each time he let you out of the cage, the thought that maybe you had met whatever benchmark Gojo had in mind, and he might be willing to let you take off the blindfold or spend some unsupervised time outside of confinement. It was hard not to feel disappointment each time he instructed you to get down on your hands and knees for him, though he did lavish you with enough praise that the feeling was fairly short-lived.

Get on your knees for me, pretty girl—that’s right, you’re doing so well—okay, hands next, you know what to do…

It wasn’t all bad, you were even starting to enjoy how simple things were now that your ability to make decisions had been taken from you. There was something soothing about it, the knowledge that you didn’t need to worry about what was going to happen next. Your only responsibility was doing exactly as Gojo asked, the clear instructions laid out for you so neatly that it felt almost impossible to not comply.

Amazingly enough, you weren’t dreaming for the first time in months. Sleep became a blessed respite from Gojo for the few hours you were unconscious, though the feeling of relief ended as quickly as it began; Gojo was always on you the moment you were awake.

‧₊ ⊹˚★˚⊹ ₊‧

“Did you sleep well?” Gojo asked. “You always look so peaceful now—I should have done this for you sooner.”

You nodded, unsure what direction to face in the darkness, even more unsure how to respond to Gojo’s delusion that this was what you needed for peace. Your hands smoothed over the soft bedding beneath you, fingers worrying the luxurious fabric.

“You don’t have to be so nervous, baby.” He chided. “You know you’ve got nothing to worry about—not as long as you’re doing what you're supposed to do.”

You could hear Gojo unlocking the cage, could feel his presence encroaching on your tiny safe space. The cushioned bedding beneath you shifted, giving under Gojo's weight as he approached you. You suppressed a flinch when his warm hand came to cup your face, his thumb soothing over your cheek before he slipped it under the blindfold.

“How about we try a little time with this off, hmm?” Gojo hummed. “Do you think that you’re ready?”

“Yes–yes, please.” You nodded, eager to see again whether you were emotionally prepared for it or not.

Gojo pulled the fabric away from your face, and dim light met your eyes for the first time in days. It hurt a little, your eyes were sensitive after being kept in total darkness for so long, but you adjusted fairly quickly.

Not that it mattered; there wasn't much that was visible under the circumstances. You could see the shine of the cage, silvery metal gleaming under the soft incandescent lights overhead, and you could see the flash in Gojo's eyes as he watched you take it all in.

“What do you think?” Gojo asked softly.

“I—I think it's a lot.” You answered carefully, edging as close to the truth as you dared.

Too much.

“It's overkill, huh?” Gojo laughed.

“Maybe—” You whispered. “Just a little.”

“You know, I thought about something more aggressive at first. Something that would have really scared you.” Gojo admitted. “But I know you wouldn't have liked it, so I compromised. Better safe than sorry.” He shrugged, running one hand through his fluffy hair.

It was hard to imagine something that would have been more extreme than locking you in a cage and threatening you with further restrictions if you attempted to utilize your natural ability to see, but you decided to let Gojo have that one.

“Safe from what?” You asked.

“Yourself, mostly.” Gojo sighed. “Geto Suguru isn't someone you should be playing around with.”

You hesitated, eyeing the solid, metal bars that surrounded you on all sides.

Geto Suguru? Your new neighbor?

You were being held captive because some man showed some interest in you?

“You did this because I was talking to some random guy?” You balked, unable to believe that Gojo had finally broken over a few minutes of conversation with a stranger.

“He's not some random guy! He's dangerous—you have no idea what he could have done to you.” Gojo argued.

“You're right, I don't have any idea–”  You rolled your eyes. “But I doubt he would have done something worse than locking me in a cage.” You snapped.

The energy in the room shifted.

It was a feeling you were familiar with; that aura of unhinged dominance was one that Gojo regularly emitted when you had taken your teasing too far.

Gojo's face was blank. His eyes slowly moved over you as he assessed you with a predatory air.

Your stomach flipped.

“You don't know how good you've got it, huh?” Gojo asked slowly. “You think I'm being mean right now.”

“No, Gojo, wait—I mispoke—” You sputtered, backing up until you hit the bars behind you. “That's not what I meant—”

Gojo followed you, crawling forward until you were trapped beneath him. His eyes sparkled, crinkling in the corner as he grinned at you. His fingers brushed over your cheek, trailing down to play with the neckline of your shirt.

“No?” Gojo hummed. “Go ahead, explain.”

You couldn't help yourself, not with the way the tension inside you had been building for days on end. You pushed yourself upward, pressing your lips to Gojo's, slipping your tongue into his mouth, relishing the way he startled at your sudden advance.

Gojo's surprise quickly melted into something hungrier. He kissed you back, hands grabbing frantically, body pressing you against the cage. He groaned when you parted your legs for him, his fingers sliding over the thin, damp cloth covering your center. Those fingers wasted no time, sliding past your panties to press into the slick heat of you, curling against your walls until you were reduced to a trembling mess.

There was a brief moment where you thought you might have won, that you had successfully been able to shift Gojo’s focus enough that he would forget about your verbal slip of the tongue in favor of your physical one.

Then he broke the kiss, panting as he pulled back, one hand gripping his hard cock through his pants, the other bringing his dirtied fingers into his mouth.

“Nice try, you almost had me there, baby. Give me your hands---I think it's time for you to learn how things are going to work from now on.”

✩˚⋆˙‧₊ ⊹˚★˚⊹ ₊‧˙⋆˚✩

You were completely naked.

Well, you were bare of clothes, you were wearing plenty of other things.

Your arms were bound behind you, handcuffs clinking together, a rope knotted around the chain and strung through the ceiling of the cage. Your face was pushed into the bedding, your ass forced up high by the harness of ropes tied around your hips, and your knees were locked into place by a metal bar that made it impossible to close your legs.

Things couldn't have been like that for longer than a few hours, but you were fairly sure your brain was already about to melt.

Gojo was lounging in front of you, one hand wrapped around his thick cock, the other holding the device that had become your downfall. That little remote, though it appeared incredibly innocuous, controlled the many options, speeds, and intensities of the machine that was fucking you. 

“You've liked this combination the best so far—” Gojo commented. “But we should try out everything to make sure it's really your favorite.”

You wanted to snap back at him, to remind him that the settings that made you cum the hardest were Gojo's favorite, not yours, but you had long since lost the ability to form a coherent sentence.

All you were capable of doing in that moment was shaking, drooling, and sobbing into your blankets as Gojo tweaked the settings again, adjusting his own pace so that he was stroking himself in time to the thrust of the machine.

You had tried everything. 

Promising that you would be good.

Please, Satoru, I promise I'll listen—I'll behave—

I bet you will after this~

Promising that you would never be good again.

I swear, I will cause more trouble than you could ever imagine—

Is this your way of saying you want to do this again~?

Begging Gojo to stop.

Please, Satoru, I can't take anymore, please let me have a break, just a short one, please—

Ah, but we aren't finished yet! Keep your chin up, you can do it~

Begging Gojo to fuck you instead.

Satoru, just fuck me, please—I want you, not these toys—

Sorry, baby, only good girls get fucked. Ungrateful brats get their slutty cunts trained. Maybe next time~

None of it swayed him. If anything, your desperation spurred him on. He was ruthless, only stopping the show to invent new ways to utilize his apparently endless arsenal of tools.

It was creeping up on you, your overstimulated body unable to stop the rising tide of your next orgasm. You could tell it was going to be an intense one; every muscle in your pelvis had locked up, your mind emptying itself of every thought that didn't involve getting over that hill.

It was incredible that you could still think at all, though you had suspicions that ability would soon wane completely.

“Gonna cum already?” Gojo laughed. “You're lucky that your pretty pussy knows how to be good, she's doing so well taking your punishment for you—” He was bucking up into his own touch, likely trying to hold back his climax for the umpteenth time.

“Satoru—” You whimpered, walls clenching painfully around the toy relentlessly fucking into you. “I can't—I can't—” 

You were fairly sure your body was about to give out on you; your legs were cramping from how tightly wound your muscles were, the anticipation holding your entire body hostage.

“Ah, I think you can~” Gojo crooned. “You had enough courage to fight me before; you can be brave for this.”

“Satoru, I'm sorry, please—I'll be so good, I'll—” You were still trying to convince him when it hit, your words giving to incoherent sobs as you came unwound.

Your chest heaved, your body feeling as if it was shattering into a million pieces while the walls of your cunt pulsed with your release. The noises you made were inhuman, the sound of an animal finally breaking. You could barely hear Gojo talking to you over yourself, his voice only reaching you on a subconscious level.

There we go, good fucking girl—see, I knew you could do it—you look so pretty like this, all broken and fucked out—fuck—perfect, absolutely gorgeous, cumming so hard for me—I almost hope you give us an excuse to do this again—

It seemed to go on forever, the feeling of relief that came along with cumming steadily ebbing and being replaced by the fear that you might never stop cumming.

Of course, the climax did eventually end, as did the comparatively mild aftershocks. Your body sagged against your many restraints, all of the fight you had left absolutely fucked out of you.

You hardly noticed when the machine stopped, only instinctively shuddering as Gojo pulled the toy out, leaving you truly empty for the first time in hours.

The world shifted as Gojo removed you from the cage, carrying you over to the bed. He finished unbinding you with a gentle reverence, leaving soft kisses on your skin as he rubbed your muscles and stretched out your limbs for you.

You did so well, sweet girl—I know it was hard, but you had to learn your lesson, yeah? Now you understand what happens when you decide to make big mistakes. Next time you want to act out, you'll think twice because you know what the consequences will be.

You couldn’t move, too exhausted to even open your eyes, only vaguely aware of how Gojo was wrapping himself around you, exchanging your cool, metal restraints for bonds of warm obsession.

✩˚⋆˙‧₊ ⊹˚★˚⊹ ₊‧˙⋆˚✩

It had taken a few weeks of diligence and unerring correction, but you were finally adjusted to your new existence. Satoru had easily convinced you to lower yourself, training you intensely to help you understand how things were going to be for you until he could trust you with more. At first, you had been resistant, a feral little thing that behaved exactly like the caged animal that you were.

But slowly, bit by bit, you understood the nature of your new circumstances.

Satoru took care of you, and you took care of Satoru. How that looked at any one time was up to you. 

If you were a good girl, you were awarded privileges that brought you closer to a more normal existence. If you were naughty and broke the rules, you were reminded of who you belonged to, and how generous he was with you.

Maybe it was wrong to treat you like a pet, like something subhuman, but Satoru couldn’t bring himself to care because it had worked.

Every day was better than the last. You had recently earned the ability to sleep in Satoru’s bed, something you had taken advantage of at every opportunity.

Well, except for the one night where you had been exceedingly frisky. On that evening, you had provoked Satoru into locking you up, only to eagerly press your ass up against one of the holes in your cage in anticipation of him playing with your already soaking wet pussy.

That night had been a new lesson for both of you. While you had learned the importance of clear communication and the benefits of asking for what you wanted, Satoru had learned that pets train their owners just as much as the other way around.

Outside of those little hiccups, things had been going so well that Satoru figured you were almost ready to get back to dreaming, which was fortunate as the seal on your technique was just about ready to crumble, as was his sanity after weeks of being deprived of your usual routine.

✩˚⋆˙‧₊ ⊹˚★˚⊹ ₊‧˙⋆˚✩

It smelled like breakfast. A warm, sweet scent that wrapped you up in sugar and spice. Cinnamon rolls. 

The ring on your collar jingled as you shifted to sit up, the comforting weight settling at the base of your neck. You opened your mouth, tongue lolling out just how Gojo liked. You waited there just like that, soft and patient and pliant.

Obedient.

A good girl.

When the first bite of cinnamon roll hit, you smiled, tasting the faintest hint of cum in the icing.

im too lazy to add the song inspo buffers, but it's drain's cover of good good things by the descendants

[yuemiu-deactivated20260315]

frat!jo’s ur regular hookup, but nerd!kuroo has you distracted every time… you never imagined they’d both share you one night . . mdni.

art by lovebykrkn on tt !

you’ve been hooking up with gojo satoru for months now, ever since that one wild frat party where he cornered you against the kitchen counter with his stupid charming grin and those piercing blue eyes. he’s the president of the frat house, throwing endless parties here and there, the kind of guy who pulls everyone into his orbit without even trying and who probably had fucked the whole girls population in the campus.

and yeah, the sex is good with him -mind-blowing, even, with his endless stamina and the way he knows exactly how to make you finish. but deep down, it’s not him you’re craving.

no, it’s kuroo tetsurou. the hot nerd who somehow manages to be both buried in textbooks and pulling girls left and right.

he’s friends with gojo, weirdly enough - they met through some campus club or whatever, and now they’re inseparable. kuroo’s got that messy black hair that falls just right over his sharp eyes, always wearing those fitted button-ups or hoodies that hug his broad shoulders a little too well for someone who claims to live in the library. he’s got this sly, teasing smile that makes your stomach flip, and unlike gojo’s loud chaos, kuroo’s got this quiet intensity that pulls you in like gravity.

you’ve seen him at parties, leaning against walls with a drink in hand, chatting up whoever catches his eye. girls flock to him, drawn to that mix of brains and brawn - he’s captain of the intramural volleyball team, after all, so he’s toned as hell under those nerdy glasses. but you? you’re stuck in gojo’s bed most nights, pretending his touches are enough while your mind wanders to what kuroo’s hands would feel like.

it starts innocently enough. another friday night, another frat bash at gojo’s place. the house is thumping with bass, bodies pressed together in the living room, smelling like cheap perfume and a little weed. red solo cups spilling everywhere. you show up in a tiny skirt and cute top, hoping maybe kuroo will be there - he usually crashes these things when gojo drags him out of his dorm. and sure enough, you spot him across the room, laughing with a group of girls, his arm slung casually over one’s shoulder. jealousy twists in your gut, but you push it down, grabbing a drink and finding gojo instead.

he’s all over you in seconds, pulling you onto the middle with his hands on your hips, grinding against you to the beat. “missed you, baby,” he murmurs in your ear, breath hot and alcohol-scented. you fake a giggle, letting him spin you around, but your eyes keep darting to kuroo. he catches your gaze once, twice, that smirk playing on his lips like he knows exactly what’s running through your head.

hours blur by in a haze of shots and dancing. gojo’s got you pinned to a wall at one point, kissing you sloppy and deep, his hand sneaking under your skirt in the dark. you moan into his mouth, but it’s a certain someone that you’re thinking instead of him.

eventually, the party winds down, people stumbling out or crashing on couches. gojo tugs you upstairs to his room, but he’s drunker than usual, slurring something about how hot you look tonight.

that’s when kuroo appears at the door, knocking lightly. “yo, gojo, you seen my keys? think i left ’em in here earlier.” his voice is casual, but his eyes linger on you, sprawled on gojo’s bed with your skirt hiked up just a bit.

gojo laughs, waving him in. “come find ’em, man. and hey, stick around. we were just gettin’ started.” there’s a glint in his eye, mischievous as always, and you feel your heart race. is he serious? kuroo hesitates for a second, but then he’s stepping inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

the air shifts, thick with unspoken tension. gojo pulls you into his lap, nipping at your neck while kuroo pretends to search for his keys on the desk. but you can feel his gaze burning into you, and when gojo notices, he chuckles low. “she’s been eye-fuckin’ you all night, man. don’t think i didn’t notice.”

your cheeks heat up, but kuroo just smirks, leaning against the desk. “that so? didn’t know i was your type, sweetheart.” his voice is teasing, all velvet and promise, and you squirm in gojo’s hold.

gojo’s hands slide up your thighs, spreading them a little. “wanna join? she’s got enough for both of us.” it’s bold, reckless, but that’s gojo for you. and to your surprise - kuroo doesn’t say no. he pushes off the desk, stalking closer, his eyes dark with want.

“only if she wants it,” kuroo says, voice soft but firm, looking right at you. you nod, breath catching, and that’s all it takes.

gojo flips you onto your back on the bed, peeling off your top while kuroo watches, his hand palming himself through his jeans already. “look at her, all needy,” gojo teases, unhooking your bra and tossing it aside. your tits spill out, nipples hardening in the cool air, and kuroo groans softly.

“fuck, you’re gorgeous,” kuroo mutters, climbing onto the bed. he leans down, capturing one nipple in his mouth, sucking slow and deep while gojo works on your skirt, yanking it down with your panties in one go. you’re bare now, exposed, and gojo spreads your legs wide, whistling low.

“so wet already. this for me or him?” gojo asks, fingers tracing your slick folds. you whimper, bucking into his touch, kuroo’s tongue flicking your nipple that makes you gasp at the same time.

“s-shut up,” you manage, and they both chuckle.

kuroo kisses his way down your body, nipping at your skin, while gojo sheds his clothes fast, his cock springing free - long and thick, already leaking pre at the fat tip. he strokes himself lazily, watching as kuroo settles between your thighs. “taste her first, man. she’s sweet as hell.”

kuroo doesn’t need telling twice. he spreads your pussy lips with his thumbs, groaning at the sight of your dripping hole. “look at this pretty cunt,” he murmurs, then dives in, tongue flat and broad as he licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit. you cry out, hands fisting the sheets, and he hums against you, the vibration shooting straight to your core, making your legs quiver.

he eats you out like he’s starved, tongue plunging into your hole, lapping up your juices, then circling your clit with precise flicks. spit drips from his mouth, mixing with your wetness, making everything sloppy and messy. gojo watches, pumping his cock, getting turned on at the sight. then he leans over to kiss you, swallowing your moans. his free hand pinches your nipples, twisting just enough to make you arch.

“feels good, huh?” gojo whispers against your lips. “tetsu’s got a talented mouth.”

you nod frantically, hips grinding against kuroo’s face. he sucks your clit hard, two fingers sliding into your soaking cunt easily, curling to hit that spot that makes you see stars. “oh god, kuroo—” you gasp his name, and he growls, fingering you faster while he continues to eat your pussy out.

gojo smirks, moving to kneel by your head. “open up, pretty. suck me while he makes you cum.”

you obey, mouth watering as you take gojo’s cock in, lips stretching around his girth. he’s thick, hitting the back of your throat as he thrusts gently at first, then deeper. saliva pools in your mouth, dripping down his shaft to your chin, and he groans, hand finding your hair. “good girl.. take it all.”

kuroo’s fingers pump in and out of your hole, slick squealchy sounds filling the room, your pussy clenching around him. he adds a third finger, stretching you, and you moan around gojo’s cock, the vibration making him curse. “fuck, she’s tight. gonna feel so good on my dick.”

you cum hard, shaking, juices gushing over kuroo’s hand and mouth. he laps it all up, not stopping until you’re whimpering from overstimulation. then he pulls back, chin glistening, lips swollen. “sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted.”

they switch places seamlessly. gojo slides down, lining up his cock with your entrance, while kuroo strips, revealing his toned body - abs rippling, cock hard big and veiny, a bit longer than gojo’s but just as thick. he kneels by your face, tapping his tip against your lips. “your turn, sweetheart.”

gojo pushes in slow, inch by inch, your walls fluttering around him. “still so fuckin’ tight,” he grunts, bottoming out with a sigh. he starts thrusting, deep and steady, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. you wail, taking kuroo into your mouth, sucking sloppily, tongue swirling around his head.

kuroo threads his fingers through your hair, guiding you deeper. “that’s it, baby. choke on it.” spit runs down your chin, mixing with tears as gojo fucks you harder, his cock dragging against your g-spot with every snap of his hips.

“fuuuck— look at her, taking us both like a champ,” gojo pants, hand smacking your ass lightly, leaving a red mark. “gonna fill this pretty pussy up.”

kuroo pulls out of your mouth with a pop, stroking himself as he watches. “wanna fuck her too. switch?”

gojo nods, pulling out of your gaping cunt, your pussy clenching around nothing. they manhandle you onto all fours, kuroo behind you now. he rubs his cock through your folds, coating himself in your slick, then pushes in - slow at first, then slamming home. you yelp, the angle hitting deeper, his cock bullying your poor cervix.

gojo positions himself in front, feeding you his dick again. “suck, baby. thereee we go— make me cum down your throat, yeah?”

they find a rhythm, kuroo pounding into you from behind, hands gripping your hips and ass cheeks hard enough to bruise, while gojo fucks your face, balls slapping your chin. the room smelling like sex - sweat and cum and your arousal, gagging sounds echoing along with the slapping of skin and your pussy getting fucked.

“shiiit... her pussy’s sucking me in,” kuroo groans, thumb circling your asshole. “want me to play here too? hm, angel?”

you nod around gojo’s cock, and kuroo spits on your hole, pressing his thumb in slowly. the stretch burns so good, fullness overwhelming. he works it in and out, matching his thrusts, and you feel another orgasm building.

gojo’s close, hips stuttering now. “fucking hell, baby- gonna cum— swallow it all, yeah?” he thrusts deep, spilling down your throat with a hot moan. you gag, swallowing what you can, the rest dripping from your lips. he pulls out, smearing the mess on your cheek. “haahh... messy girl.”

kuroo speeds up, thumb buried in your ass, cock slamming into you, pounding into your sopping pussy like he couldnt get enough. “cum for me, sweetheart. soak my dick... yeah, fuck— good girl...”

you do, screaming as your pussy spasms, squirting a little around his still-pistoning cock, wetting the sheets. kuroo follows immediately, pulling out to cum on your back, hot ropes painting your skin. but they’re not done.

gojo flips you onto your back again, sliding back into your pussy while it’s still pulsing. “my turn to fill you up.” kuroo straddles your chest, cock hard again already, pushing between your tits. “squeeze ’em together, pretty.”

you press your breasts around his shaft, and he thrusts, groaning at the friction. gojo fucks you rough, one hand on your clit, rubbing fast. “gonna breed this cunt,” he growls, and you whine, legs wrapping around him.

kuroo cums first this time, spilling over your tits and neck, marking your skin. then gojo’s next, burying himself balls-deep and pumping you full, cum leaking out around his cock, dripping down your crack. he pulls out slowly, watching it drip, then scoops some up and pushes it back in with his fingers. “keep it in there.”

they collapse beside you, all panting and sweaty. gojo kisses your shoulder, kuroo still out of breath. “that was fun,” gojo says with a grin. “we should do this again.”

kuroo smirks, hand tracing your thigh. “yeah, but next time, i get her first.”

gojo scoffs, reaching to the nightstand to light up a cig. “greedy shit.”

note. pls ignore how obvious it is that i had no idea how to end this bc i was literally in class when i finally decided to write it,, and this didn’t rly come out the way i imagined it either :c it was supposed to be a longer fic, but i js haven’t had much motivation to write lately. i’m so sowwy !!

[nnihilnovum]

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Now presenting:

Rating: explicit, pwp

WC: 3k

Gojo's got you right where he wants you.

Contains: lightly edited PWP, reader is fem and has a vagina, oral (f receiving, he eats it from the back ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯), teasing, pet names (sugar, sweetheart, gorgeous idk probably more), multiple orgasms, overstim (f receiving), dom sub undertones, mention of traffic light system (no colors used), rough sex, p in v, intercrural (thigh fucking), after care.

A/N: uh oh, this is my first time posting smut. Is it good? Who knooooows????

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“You can’t say I didn’t warn you.” Satoru growls hotly into your ear.

You shiver, back arching like an over-eager cat begging to be pet. There’s no use trying to play coy. Your body always seems to override your brain when this man is involved.

And he did warn you. He told you outright that he would fuck you in the kitchen as soon as your home was kid free and your long-held moratorium on PDA in common areas had ended. Come to find, there were several surfaces in the house he planned on christening.

“I didn’t- ah!” He catches the shell of your ear between two canines, biting just hard enough to sting, “Meg’s bed’s not even cold yet.”

Megumi moved into an apartment with Yuugi just the day before. Rationally, you knew it was time for him to strike out on his own, but your home wouldn’t feel the same without him. Barely thirty and you’re already an empty nester. You woke up feeling a bit morose—Satoru is always happy to give you a distraction.

His tongue paints a hot stripe up the column of your neck, stopping to nibble at your jaw.

“Mouthy today, huh?” You pant—your white-knuckled grip on the counter doing little to steady you.

“Mmm,” He purrs, hand sneaking up to grab your jaw, making you look up at him, “You got no idea, sweetheart.”

He leans down to kiss you but stops short, ghosting his cherry-flavored lips across yours. You fall for the tease immediately, whining and trying to rise onto your tippy toes to kiss him properly. He pins your hips against the counter with his own, the fingers of his free hand digging roughly into your hip.

“Be good,” He croons against your lips, “All in good time.”

You purse your lips into a pout and try fruitlessly to crane your neck again. He pulls back with a chuckle and places a noisy, wet kiss on your cheek.

“Toruuu.” You whine, but he just laughs at you more.

“Keep your hands right there, sweetheart.” He places a quick kiss on your shoulder, “Be a good girl, and you’ll get what you need. Okay?”

Your fingers drum against the counter—you have to bite your cheek to keep a bratty reply at bay.

“Okay?” He repeats, emphasizing the question by surging his hips forward, pressing you almost painfully into the counter.

“Okay.” You grumble.

He hums in contemplation, tapping his lower lip, “Dunno if I believe you, gorgeous. Use your words. Tell me you’ll be good.”

You scrunch your nose at his demand, “I promise I’ll be good, Toru.”

He kisses your temple, “Oh, darlin’, for your sake, I hope you are.” The unspoken threat makes you shiver.

Suddenly the heat at your back is gone as Satoru drops to his knees. His warm hands grope up the backs of your thighs, soft flesh pudgy between his fingers.

“Go ahead and hold your skirt up for me.” He tells you.

You reach down obediently, lust overriding your instinct to make him work for it, and gather the fabric of your skirt into your hands, holding it in place as you return your grip to the counter.

He clicks his tongue, “Look at you! Being so good already.” Your face heats at his words—half from embarrassment, half from the praise.

His hands continue their journey upwards, slipping under your soft cotton panties to splay across your ass. He makes a sound low in his throat as his fingers sink into your supple cheeks.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, sugar. It’s unreal.” He sounds soft, reverent.

His thumbs reach down to spread you apart, the fabric of your underwear slot between your lips—your hips jerk forward into the counter, fruitlessly chasing the contact.

“So needy,” He sighs; you can feel his hot breath against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“Any day now.” You needle him, but your breathless rasp does little to contradict his observation.

He chuckles, and finally, his mouth is on you, but not quite where you need it most. He licks down the valley where your thigh bends, then turns his head to suck your lip into his mouth. He moans at the tease of your taste and gives you a light nibble.

He releases the fold from his mouth with a wet pop, then surges forward. His tongue drags against the cotton, still covering your most sensitive parts. Your chin drops to your chest as you moan. It feels so good despite being muted by the barrier of fabric.

His hands have you effectively pinned against the counter— you want so badly to rock back against him, but you’re entirely at his mercy. He’s the conductor of this particular performance, and there’s little you can do to increase the tempo. Back and forth, from cleft to achingly empty hole, he drags his tongue with just enough pressure to make you squirm.

The scrape of his teeth against your inner folds makes you squeak and jerk as he gingerly clasps the soaked fabric between them, pulling it to the side. You’re bare at last.

Without hesitation, he latches onto your clit—the suction is almost painful after his relentless teasing. You keen at the sharp spike of pleasure, body jolting violently. You feel the vibration of his laughter against your cunt as he continues his assault—aggressive and too intense for you to get what you need from it.

“Sa- Ah!” You cry pitifully, unable to do anything to make him relent, “Satoru, s’too much.”

“Mm?” He acknowledges you, but it does nothing to slow him.

Suddenly you’re filled with two long fingers. You’re beyond wet enough to accommodate them, but the intrusion stings enticingly. His fingers crook forward, up towards your pelvic bone, and halt—just pressing, not moving.

The pointed shocks of pleasure from your clit make your legs tremble. You fall forward onto your forearms, pressing your forehead into the cold granite countertop, trying to ride the waves of overstimulation as they come.

The involuntary clenching of your walls around his fingers stokes the flames in your gut even higher. You swell right to the edge, but the next sharp suck knocks you back just enough to prevent you from cumming.

You both know what he wants to hear—and you both know you won’t last much longer.

He carefully drags his upper teeth directly across your poor abused pearl, and you break, “Please!” you wail, “Please, please, please…”

His response is immediate—he rocks back on his heels and loudly licks his lips. His fingers pull out, resting against your entrance.

“Can I help you, sugar?” He asks.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath enough to speak, “Please. I’ve been good. Please, can I cum?”

He hums thoughtfully, index finger tapping wetly against you.

“I guess you’ve been a good sport.” He sighs, “You should see how angry your little clit looks. Poor thing.” He punctuates his statement by pinching your clit lightly.

Your knee slams into the cabinet door, “Mean!” you squeal.

He laughs at your plight but rubs your knee soothingly.

“Okay, okay.” he says, “This relationship only has room for one drama queen.”

“Not bein’ dramatic,” You mumble, cheek squished against the countertop.

He pulls your panties down and kneads your thighs. When you eventually relax, he grabs behind your knee, raising and holding it tight against the cabinet door. The cool air against your exposed cunt makes you shiver.

Everything is quiet for a few heartbeats—you can’t see him, but you know he’s watching you—appreciating your boneless, debauched state. The reprieve is short-lived, though.

His mouth latches onto your clit once again, but with a completely different tactic this time. He works you over like it’s what he was born to do—masterfully alternating between precise strokes and light suction. When he finds the rhythm that makes your thighs twitch, you’re done for.

The kitchen is filled with pornographic squelching and slurping sounds. He holds nothing back, eating you out with sloppy abandon. He builds you up to a fever pitch in no time. You’re only vaguely aware of how your moans devolve into animalistic keening. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you desperately chase your pleasure.

“Please!” You shout, the precipice of your orgasm rapidly approaching.

“Mmmm-hm.” Is the only answer you get—the affirmative sends you hurtling off the edge.

White hot pleasure bursts from between your thighs, radiating in honey-sweet waves across your body. He coaxes you lovingly through it, fingers and tongue expertly prolonging your high.

As you come down, breath fogging the granite countertop, you feel Satoru’s hands close around your hips. He lifts and presses you forward, gently arranging you on the counter.

His mouth is on yours before you get the chance to roll over onto your back fully.

You giggle at his enthusiasm and eagerly open your mouth at his tongue's insistence. The kiss is as sloppy as the head was. His tongue relentlessly fucks into your mouth as he harshly ruts his still-clothed cock against you.

Nothing makes Satoru more feral than you cumming all over his face.

He pulls away, rising to full height as he smiles maniacally down at you. He’s as far gone as you are, you think, returning his grin in kind. His hands roughly shuck his joggers down his hips—his perfect cock springs free enthusiastically.

The tip is an angry shade of red, leaking freely onto the floor. He gives himself a single stroke as he guides your ankles to one of his shoulders. His arm wraps firmly around your knees, pressing your legs tightly together.

Your brows knit in confusion, but before you can voice your concern, his intent becomes clear.

He presses his cock between your slick thighs, dragging between your lower lips. His head falls back, moaning low and wanton at the sensation.

“Fuck,” He breathes, “She’s so sloppy for me. Feels so good.”

His hips set a languid pace—savoring the way you feel.

The incessant drag of his cockhead against your swollen clit sends frissons of heat along your skin. You try to relish in the warm pulses of pleasure, but quickly it works you back up into a whining mess.

You furrow your brow and blink up at him, “Want more, Toru. Need it.”

“Hm?” His eyebrows raise expectantly as he continues to fuck your thighs, “Pretty sure I’m gonna cum like this. I think you’ll live.”

“Nooo,” You whine, “Need it! Need you in me, baby, please.”

His hips never falter as he taps his lower lip thoughtfully.

“One condition,” His smile is sharp, and you feel the hair on your neck stand on end, “I’ll fuck you, but you don’t get to tap out. Understand, sugar?”

You nod fervently.

A low laugh rumbles from his chest, “Your funeral.”

He releases his grip on your knees and moves one ankle to his other shoulder. Once again, you're spread open for him. There’s a brief lull; you're about to ask him what he’s waiting for when he hilts himself inside of you in one smooth movement. Your head thunks against the surface beneath you as your moans blend.

He gives you no time to adjust before setting a brutal pace. Staccato slaps of skin on skin bounce off the tiled walls. Satoru’s body bows over yours, mouth coming down to latch brutally onto one of your nipples. The change in angle has him pressed firmly against your clit—the fine hair covering his pelvis creating delicious friction.

One rough bite, and you bare down on him almost painfully as you come undone—hands flying out to cling to his hips.

He hisses at the sensation of you clenching around him, slowing momentarily to stave off his own orgasm before ramping back up to his previous tempo.

“Hah,” He pants, turning to place a wet kiss on your ankle, “Almost had me there, gorgeous.”

You’re unable to form a coherent response, stinging sparks of pleasure still assaulting your senses.

He’s absolutely relentless. He continues his assault on your breasts without missing a beat. Sucking and biting the tender flesh until you try to writhe away from him.

His mouth never leaves you—just redirects its onslaught to your neck.

Apparently unsatisfied with your current level of stimulation, he slips a hand between your bodies and brackets your clit with two fingers—pumping the abused nub with well-practiced efficiency.

You don’t even have the chance to come down from your last orgasm before your next is imminent. A choked sob breaks free from your chest as you fall apart again—cunt clenching, legs twitching wildly.

Hot tears spill down into your hair.

“Oh, sugar,” He coos, pulling back to look you in the eye, “You cryin’ already?”

You nod weakly and lift your arms, inviting him to come in close. His kiss is sweet and almost chaste, a stark contrast to the debauchery of the scene. A firm press of his lips against yours to ground you both, if only for a moment. He tucks your head under his chin.

He holds you close, but he doesn’t give you any mercy just yet.

Two more orgasms later, and you’re on the verge of throwing out a yellow or even a red. The stoplight system is an abiding rule between you. You can’t remember the last time you had to red out of a scene before, but you don’t know how much more you can physically take.

One of his hands, the one that isn’t doggedly beleaguering your clit, buries into your hair. His breathing grows erratic.

He’s close.

“Please,” you croak, “Please. Cum in me. Need you to fill me up. Please, please, please.”

His moan dissolves into a growl as he pushes himself off you, rising to his full height again. The sound crescendos as he pummels you with a few more harsh thrusts. His back bows, head thrown back as he cums at last.

His breathing hitches and stutters as he ruts his hips mindlessly into yours, drawing out his pleasure.

Even in your senseless state, you can’t help but marvel at how beautiful he looks—stained red from the tips of his ears down to his chest, hair mussed, lips swollen.

He rests his head against your leg as he pants—unfocused eyes looking down at where you’re still joined. You both moan when he finally pulls out. You can feel the mess he made spill out of you.

Once more, he bends down, hot breath ghosting across your abused cunt. You weakly protest, trying to push his head away, but he presses forward with a muttered apology.

He cleans you gently, purposefully avoiding your far too overstimulated clit. His tongue buries itself inside you as he removes all evidence of his spend. Seemingly satisfied with his work, he lowers your legs at last.

You’re entirely boneless—unable to even lift your head. The tap turns on, and soon you feel a cool, damp cloth cleaning the mess between your legs. A relieved sigh passes through your lips. You try to convey your gratitude, but it comes out as unintelligible murmuring.

Once you’re clean, Satoru effortlessly lifts you from the counter and carries you into the bedroom, where he deposits you on your side of the bed. You manage to remain upright long enough for him to get you out of your dress and into a clean sleep shirt. He shimmies a clean pair of underwear up your legs, and you collapse back onto your pillows.

He kisses your brow and leaves the room. You’re already on the cusp of sleep when he returns with a glass of cold water. He doesn't give you an opportunity to decline his offering, all but shoving the straw into your mouth as he hands you the glass. As soon as the first sip hits your tongue, you realize how thirsty you are. By the time Satoru snuggles up beside you in his own clean change of clothes, you’ve downed most of the glass.

You place the cup on the bedside table and allow yourself to be enveloped in Satoru’s warm embrace.

“How’s it going, champ?” He mutters into the top of your head.

You wiggle a bit, checking for any pain, “Bit sore in the obvious places. My tit’s are gonna look like a crime scene for about a week, but no lasting harm done.”

He kisses your crown, “That was amazing. Thank you for letting me break in the kitchen finally.”

“Mmm,” You bury your face into his chest, “My pleasure. It was incredible. Almost made me tap out.”

He laughs, “That’s what I was shooting for. Right to the edge. Were you thinking about calling red?”

“Yeah, I was about to near the end, but you finished before I needed to.” You tell him.

“Proud of you for lasting that long. Did you get what you needed?” His question breaks off into a yawn.

You nod. Earlier that day, you’d asked him if he was down to push your limits. You didn’t want to let Megumi moving out suck you into a depressive spiral. Sometimes a sexual catharsis was just the thing to recalibrate your brain.

“Thank you, Toru.” You reach up and run your nails through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, “You were perfect. How are you feeling?”

“Good.” He sighs.

“Want me to hold you? We can swap spots.” You offer. Domming takes a lot out of Satoru. He frets about hurting you, so he monitors you obsessively. He enjoys it, but there’s a lot of anxiety involved, too.

“That’d be nice.”

You scoot up in bed while he slides down, tucking his head under your chin. He goes lax in your embrace. You trace absent-minded patterns along his back.

“Love you.” He murmurs as he drifts off to sleep.

“Love you more.” You reply, closing your eyes, drifting off under the warm weight of your lover. Maybe having a child-free home might not be so bad after all.

[iamsoclone]

Winner Takes It All — Loser Just Takes It

Pairing ⋆. 𐙚 Gojo Satoru x f!reader

CW ⋆. 𐙚 NSFW, 18+ MDNI—explicit sexual content, explicit language (Satoru says some absolute FILTH, be warned), established relationship, dacryphilia, degradation, praise kink, manhandling, choking, spanking & slapping, spitting, edging, orgasm denial, fingering, oral sex (f rec.), cum eating, piv sex, rough sex, overstim, bondage (its mild dw), BDSM, use of ‘slut’ and ‘sir’, p0rn with plot but plot is more p0rn, canon timeline (like it matters), FERAL Gojo has come out to play for kinktober

Summary ⋆. 𐙚 a day of working with Satoru? sounds great! but maybe you could make it just a little more fun by poking the beast and sticking around (or not) for the consequences.

a/n ⋆. 𐙚 Your honor! It was a full moon and I was ovulating! That is all I'll say for myself on this. Art is by @/int_dizn on X, dividers are by @/cafekitsune — w/c ⋆. 𐙚 15.5k

Being a jujutsu sorcerer is surprisingly a lot more bureaucratic work than one would think. But every so often, when active working sorcerers are in short supply, you get out in the field and get hands on. 

Today is one of those days.

You've just finished off the last curse at this abandoned orphanage and there’s sweat gathered on your forehead. Your breathing is hard but measured after running around with your cursed tool, hacking and slashing your way through the two story building.

Tucking the tsuka of your favorite katana under your arm, you run a hand through your hair, pushing damp pieces off your sweaty forehead.

With the big, mottled grey babbling curse gone, it’s quiet in the room now. There’s no sound to signify anyone’s presence but your own, but you know you’re not alone. There's no way you could ever mistake that presence.

“Nicely done! I forgot how good you are with that thing, how many does that make?” Satoru asks, taking a few audible steps into the room.

You turn to face him and pull the tsuka out from under your arm. “Three here, there were some little wimpy ones too but I don’t really count those.” you respond with a chuckle, walking to meet him in the middle of the room. “What about you?”

“Just one—it was really big though, ugly as hell too. I tried to see if there were any more but I guess you beat me to it.” Satoru reaches and places his glasses up on his head to look at you, jutting his lip out in a pout.

“We’ve been here for twenty minutes, are you sure you weren’t just being lazy?” you lift a brow and tilt your head.

He shrugs a shoulder and steps closer. “Mm, maybe. But you have so much fun beating the shit out of curses, and you never get to anymore, who am I to take that away? And it’s nice watching my work get handled for me, especially by someone so pretty. Kind of a win-win, don’t you think?” His mouth curls into a coy smirk, head tilted to look down on you.

Your chin lifts, “Is that so?” your hand shoots out, grabbing onto the collar of his jacket as you close the miniscule distance with a single step and pull his face down to your level. Your lips press together hard and fast and he barely gets a chance to put his hands on your hips as they meet his before you pull away again and turn on a heel. “Let’s not waste time and get to the next site then, since you’re gonna slack off and let me do all the work today.” You call back over a shoulder with a smirk.

“Shit, someone’s feisty today!” He calls out, amused as you walk through the doorframe and into the hall. “You wanna blow this off and head home early?”

You scoff and almost immediately feel his breath against your ear as he says low and smooth as silk and sin, “Should I remind you what happens when you give me attitude?”

Your eyes widen and a jolt of lightning rips through as his hand glides gently up the back of your bare thigh just under the hem of the uniform skirt. 

You know exactly what happens, that’s kind of the point.

Things with Satoru are great, he's sweet, he's considerate—sometimes—he's attentive, and your relationship is anything but stagnant. In fact, today is the first time you’ve seen each other after he got back late last night from handling a few annoyingly persistent curses up north. He’s been gone for a few days, so when the opportunity came up to handle a few sites together today, you jumped. For reasons not… completely wholesome. There’s ulterior motives that he may be catching onto slowly, but he has no idea of the full extent of this devious game plan. 

The katana slips through your fingers and it clatters to the ground. “Shit, so clumsy.” you bend at the waist to pick it up and arch your back to push your ass against Satoru and he inhales sharply, his whole body stiffening at the sudden contact.

Immediately, you seize the moment. Your fingers curl around the tsuka and you break into a sprint down the hall. Your sneakers squeak as you skid around the corner to dash through another corridor, hearing an indignant scoff from where you had left him as you run off into the building.

Satoru is faster than you—no shit, fastest sorcerer alive—but you’re pretty good at suppressing your cursed energy, and you can be very sneaky when you want to be. And besides, if he wants you to do all the work today, you deserve to have some fun while you’re at it. And what could be more fun than fucking with the strongest man alive?

Stupid grin plastered on your face, you leap down the stairs to the main floor of the building, gripping the corner to keep yourself from slamming into the opposite wall. You zip through the hall, scanning a few of the rooms before finding one with another door leading elsewhere and darting in.

It’s a cafeteria, and the second door connects to the kitchen of the orphanage. Perfect.

You pause for a moment after slipping through the door and shutting it quietly behind you, looking around at the cluttered and dusty kitchen.

Where is it? These kinds of places always have one.

Spotting exactly what you’re looking for, you step quickly over the mess on the floor to the other side of the kitchen and pull the cover of the laundry chute open as quietly as possible. With a breath, you hop in to slide down into the basement of the building.

You land on your feet on a pile of old rags and towels. The smell down here is foul. Mildew from the stagnant wet material and old rotted food mix together and make your start to regret the decision. But heavy footsteps thud above and it snaps you from the disgust and back into action.

Your steps are light and quiet as you sneak up the stairs on the other side of the laundry room back to the main floor. This time, you re-emerge outside of the kitchen.

Waiting at the top of the stairs pressed against the wall, you listen for any sounds from the kitchen. But it’s quiet, ominously silent. You swallow and wet your lips, taking a small breath and reining cursed energy in, before taking off in a sprint again down the hall.

Almost immediately, Satoru pops up at the end of the corridor. Hands in his jacket pockets, head tilted back to look down his nose a little and and a gentle curve to his lips.

“Oh, hey.” He says casually, like he didn’t just corner you. Your shoes squeak as you slam on the brakes, scrambling to halt before you run right into him with eyes widened in slight surprise. 

But you’re still smiling wide. A little noise of excitement—almost a giggle but more breathless—slips out as you find purchase and tear off in the other direction.

He definitely could’ve just caught you right then and there, but that would have put an end to this. So you guess he’s playing along. 

For now at least. 

Stifling another laugh, you skid around the corner again and push off the wall to rush into the first open door you see. A classroom with a wall of windows.

Sliding the glass up, you throw a leg over and hop down to the ground outside to run around the building towards the main entrance.

You peek around the corner to check the area, and immediately turn to run the other way with a gasp. Finding Satoru on the steps up to the entrance staring right back with a smile that looked anything but nice.

Heading for the back entrance of the building, you peek out again before running out from behind the corner. There’s no sign of him this time so you rush for the door and slip through. Your back presses to the solid wood for a moment as you scan the hallway. It’s empty and quiet again so you peel off and walk through. Keeping your energy low and steps light and silent to not tip off the predator currently hunting you through the site.

Not yet at least.

You make it to the stairwell again and head up to the next floor, stopping at the first door you see to open, and immediately slam it shut, sending a loud bang echoing through the floor. Before the first echo sounds out you’re already sprinting off down the hall to the window at the end. You just make it before familiar energy swells and fills the hall.

Throw a look over your shoulder as you slide the window up, turn to sit on the sill, prop one foot up on it and let your legs fall just open enough. Gotcha. 

Satoru’s eyes widen and his lips part as his jaw drops a bit with a startled noise like a scoff. Staring for a moment before meeting your eyes again and shutting his mouth. You lift a brow with a satisfied smirk playing on your lips and stand on the sill, wiggling your fingers at him before turning around and dropping down to the ground outside again. See ya, sucker!

Not bothering to stifle your cackle this time, you sprint around the outside of the building and make it to the front entrance again and skid to a stop in front of Ijichi.

He looks up from his phone at you, and then just over your shoulder. “You’re both ready to go?”

You’re practically vibrating in place, your lips twitch and fail to stifle a smile and you nod at him before taking your spot in the car’s front passenger seat, not looking back over your shoulder.

The rear door opens and Satoru takes his seat behind Ijichi. His uniform shifts as he pulls his phone out. A moment of pause, then your phone vibrates. Still not looking back at him, you pull it out and open the message. 

[2:23PM] Satoru: kinda risky going commando like that don’t u think?

[2:23PM] Satoru: whered they go?

Pursing your lips, you adjust the hem of your skirt, pulling it down a bit before sending a response. 

[2:24PM] Me: I like the air flow and why should I tell you? Figure it out.

[2:24PM] Satoru: Ohhh really? Well u should run faster than that next time.

You bite your lip but the next message that comes makes you gasp a small sharp breath. 

[2:24PM] Satoru: Cuz whatever this is is SO over when I catch u.

Swallowing down the feeling of your stomach jumping up into your throat, you send two messages back. 

[2:25PM] Me: hmmmm don't you mean IF you catch me? (｡•̀ᴗ-)

[2:25PM] Me: Check your pocket.

His uniform shifts a few times before he finally reaches into the left pocket of his pants and lets out a quiet breathy chuckle.

You’d started this at the last site, playing the mouse to his cat before putting the game on pause and letting him catch up and that’s when you’d done it. Pressed up close and distracting him with another fast, hard kiss, you slipped your hand into his pocket and left the lacy little undergarment to be used as part of the next step.

[2:26PM] Satoru: Cmoooonnn just make this easy and admit defeat already. We both know im gonna win (≖‿≖)

You send two final messages before slipping your phone back in your pocket. 

[2:27PM] Me: Only if you can catch me Satoruuuuuuu (ꈍᴗꈍ)

[2:27PM] Me: [IMG.]

A photo. Not obscenely graphic, but when you passed by the bathroom mirror at the last site after removing the lacy scrap of material, you snapped a racy picture quickly to use as ammunition later.

You turn to Ijichi, making idle conversation and hear a long, strained exhale and a quiet “Oh, fuck me.” from the back seat. Your lips twitch again as you nod and listen to Ijichi talking about the details of the next site.

Your phone buzzes and you glance quickly to Satoru, sunglasses back on with his head down and phone in hand. His head lifts slightly and you can feel his eyes on you but you ignore it and keep the conversation with Ijichi going.

When you arrive at the next site, you get out of the car quickly. Katana in hand, you both head into the four story office building. An unhinged grin on your face as you practically speed-walk. Satoru is right behind you, you can literally feel the heat coming off him.

You stop abruptly and he bumps into you. Your back arches to push your ass against him. It makes that idiotic grin even wider when you feel just how hard he is right now, knowing he was probably uncomfortable as fuck the entire drive here. It’s been days, you know he’s just as pent up as you are, but he’s not quite where you want him yet. He hisses a breath through his teeth, but you push off with your back foot and sprint away just as his hand grazes your hip.

“What are you up to with all this?” Satoru calls as you dash ahead through the hall. “You’re being kinda mean, y’know!” The words are playful, but there’s an edge in his voice that hints at frustration. So close.

“Get to work, Sa-to-ru!” you call back, skidding around the corner and laughing like a mad man.

As you get deeper into the building exorcising curses, you run into him a few times. He doesn’t take advantage or interrupt though, not while you’re both working. The curses have to be dealt with and despite your goading and teasing, his priorities still lie straight. The exorcisms come first. 

But he’s worked up, it gets more and more obvious with each passing glance, every sweet smile and brush of your hand on his arm, over his chest and down his abs as you both work your way through the site. It’s just constant build-up with absolutely no relief, and the tightness of his jaw, the look in his eyes that burns brighter and brighter every time you see him is fuel on this fire that keeps you running from him.

Exorcising curses is fun on its own, and this is just a cherry on top.

Slashing through the last curse, you flick purple ooze from the blade and twirl around to Satoru, standing arms crossed in the doorway with his chin up to look down his nose at you. Shoulders tense, sleeves strained tight over his biceps. He looks like a coil that's been wound just about as tight as it can be, about to burst free with a single touch.

“What, not gonna try to run this time?” He asks, voice deep, the words clipped and tinged with irritation. 

You don’t answer. Instead, you close the distance and stop once you’re close enough to feel heat pouring in waves from his body. Your chest barely grazes his sternum before you halt.

Staying silent, your hand glides lightly up his thigh, just grazing the outline of his erection and he sucks in a sharp breath with a shiver. You keep your eyes on his with a—not so—sweet smile.

Satoru’s hand shoots out to grab your waist and pull you flush to him. He leans to bring his face down to yours and says level and low, tone totally in control and contradicting the words coming from his mouth. “You’re really testing my patience here so whatever little game it is you’re playing, you should wrap it up or I’ll do it for you.”

You tip your head side to side before meeting his bright eyes again with a smirk. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You wriggle out of his grip and dash off through the door to zip through a string of random rooms, hearing a long and very unimpressed sigh as you leave Satoru behind.

Every step is another shovel of dirt you’re digging in your own grave right now but you just can’t help it. If he doesn’t want you fucking with him he should stop being so much fun to fuck with.

There's a heart pounding adrenaline in being hunted. Knowing you won't wind up dead—probably—if you get caught doesn't dull the feeling. There's something wild and untamed in Satoru. It's something deep and stifled in his everyday life, only surfacing when he allows it to. But you've seen it in brief moments, and you know that if you keep urging and provoking, it'll surface. The idea is nerve-wracking in a way that surges like electricity. 

Seeing a side of him that most don't even live to tell the tale of.

Poking a beast and sticking around for the consequences is certainly one way to get a thrill. 

You make it out to the car again and slow to a quick walk as you approach Ijichi. He looks up from his phone, “Oh, finished already? That one was quite fast.”

Nodding with a bright smile at Ijichi and completely ignoring the looming presence behind you, “Yup! I think I got most of them again, I know he just got back but Satoru is really slacking off today.”

He scoffs behind you, “Excuse me?”

You whirl around and cover your smile with a hand, “Oh! I didn’t see you there. Sorry, but it’s kind of true, slacker.” You wink.

He drags his tongue over his teeth and narrows his eyes, glaring at you silently. Well, that was probably the final nail in your coffin.

Satoru looks at Ijichi, pushing his glasses back up to sit high on his face. “Anything else for today?”

Ijichi checks his phone again before looking back to you both, “That was the last site set up for today. It’s still pretty early though, I can see if there’s anything—”

“No,” Satoru cuts him off and opens the rear driver door to take his seat. “Let’s go.”

Ijichi looks at you and lifts his brows, you shrug and walk around to the passenger side.

Oh yeah, that was the last straw. You are fucked—literally and figuratively.

You pull out your phone again when you all start driving back and check the last message he’d sent. Another jolt of lightning surges through and you shiver a little.

[2:29PM] Satoru: alright then. hope ur ready for this

Are you playing with fire right now? Abso-fucking-lutely. Are you going to stop? Hell fucking no. Not when this is going exactly how you’d hoped.

Scrolling through your phone, you find what you’re looking for and hit send. 

[3:36PM] Me: [IMG.]

Another photo, not from today, but it’s downright lewd and has just the effect you want.

His phone dings and he lets out a frustrated sigh, then the shift of his uniform as he pulls his phone out. 

You glance back at him in the mirror and watch as he opens the message, eyes going round for a moment before he groans and lets his head fall back, muttering something you can't quite hear. He takes a deep, contemplating the choices of his life that led him here breath, then looks back down at his phone. 

Lips pursed, his jaw works as he stares down for a few seconds before looking back up over his glasses and meeting your eyes in the mirror.

Your gaze averts quickly and you start chatting with Ijichi again, keeping the conversation going the entire way back to the school and not once looking back at Satoru. He doesn't respond to the message. The total and uncharacteristic silence from him makes a twinge of dread work though you. You can taste how thick the tension in the air is and it almost makes you feel guilt too.

But he’ll get revenge, once he can catch you, that is. 

Back at the school, you wait for Satoru to get out first this time and leave your katana in the car as you step out, then turn and bend at the waist to grab your blade, and shut the door with a flip of your hair, strutting off. Katana in hand and not looking back once.

“I’m done, we’re going home the second this report is finished, so don’t bother trying to run again.” He mutters behind you. It's a warning, a command. You stifle a laugh and keep walking towards the main building.

Like that’s gonna happen, he should know you better at this point.

Walking through the courtyard, you’re in a ‘time out’ zone of sorts. Even though he jokes around and acts flippant about it, he takes his job seriously enough—both teaching and as a working sorcerer—to be somewhat professional on campus.

The perfect opportunity presents itself. 

Yaga, I fucking owe you one.

He stops Satoru in the hall of the main building to ask something about the upcoming exchange event and you pick up your pace. Not running, but walking as fast as humanly possible. You glance back over your shoulder to see Satoru, jaw clenched and mouth pulled in a tight, hard line, and whip your head back around.

He looks like you’re about to get murdered. 

Ohhh shit! How long do you dare keep it up? Should you let him catch you?

Naaah.

You make it to the end of the hall and round the corner before breaking into another sprint, running into a classroom and hopping out the window to make a mad dash across the courtyard towards the student dorms.

Bursting through the front door, you shut it behind you and hurry to the empty third year section, passing Nobara and Megumi with a wave that they return with confusion on their faces.

You make it to the first empty room and slide down to sit on the floor on the opposite side of the bed to the door. Steadying your breathing, you lie in wait. The window just ahead is the only escape, but it’s within reach if—when—you need it.

Heavy footsteps in the dorm send a surge of electricity through and you laugh quietly.

Not quietly enough though because a moment later the door bangs open.

You startle a little at the loud noise and jump to your feet with a look over your shoulder, about to dive through the window. But Satoru is right there and very unimpressed. A squeal escapes as you grip the ledge and haul yourself through the window.

“Ah, got you." Before you can somersault over, your ankle is caught in a strong grip and the escape is halted. "Hope you had your fun, because I am beyond done now.”

You flail and brace with one palm out to keep from hitting your face on the outer wall.

Dangling out the window, one hand over your skirt to pull it down and keep from flashing the woods the dorms back onto, you keep your charade going. 

“Oh, hey, what’s up? I was just-agh!” He yanks you up and through the window again. A breath whooshes out as he tosses you over his shoulder, and turns back to march out of the room. “Satoru! What are you do—”

“I must be going crazy because I told you not to run, didn’t I? Quit fucking squirming, you’re not gonna like what happens if I have to chase you down again.” He growls and his grip on your leg tightens, arm wrapped over the other to pin you in place.

You pass by Nobara and Megumi again and gape at them. Feeling a furious flush on your face as they stare back in shock, blinking a few times like whatever they’re seeing might be a hallucination. If the poor kids weren’t traumatized already, they certainly are now.

You’ve clearly shattered whatever sense of decency Satoru had been holding onto by taking off again after explicitly telling you not to, and he has now lost the will to give a shit in front of the first years. 

“This is so inappropriate!” you hiss at him as he pushes the door open with his foot.

He scoffs, “I’m being inappropriate?” His hand slides up your thigh and his thumb swipes up your bare slit. “Just what the hell is this if not inappropriate?”

You gasp and grip the back of his jacket. Your thighs squeeze together, trapping his hand in place and he laughs. 

He makes it back out to the courtyard and halts right in the middle. You feel it, energy surges, space distorts, and in a blink, you’re at home. Well, you’re on the street just outside the building and luckily it seems that nobody is around to notice you both appearing from thin air.

You’d usually say something about the risk involved when warping into public spaces, but you get the feeling that chiding Satoru right now might result in you actually getting murdered. So you stay silent as he takes you up to your apartment, still carrying you over his shoulder like a towel or a dead animal and ignoring the looks from a few of your neighbors in the lobby. 

The man has negative shame.

How the hell are you ever going to face these people again?

He kicks the door shut behind him, marches right to the bedroom and throws you down on the bed. Coming down fast on top of you with hands on either side of your head. Your lips purse, eyes wide as you search your own reflection in his glasses. 

Slowly, you reach to lift them off his face. He licks his teeth, brilliant blue eyes narrowed and glaring silently.

“Got anything you want to say to me?” He says finally and pulls back to sit up, kneeling between your legs. Your lips stay shut tight, keeping silent as his eyes flicker down to where the skirt has ridden up and he huffs a single short laugh. “Really? No comments about anything else inappropriate?”

The words get stuck in your throat with bright blue eyes roving up and down. Hunger, irritation, and something wild that you don't know if you've ever seen. 

Did I go too far? 

Your mouth opens, and promptly shuts when he meets your eyes again.

“Don’t try to act all innocent now, this is what you wanted, right?” He sneers, “Calling me a fucking slacker, in front of Ijichi too? You really wanted to piss me off, huh?” His hand drifts dangerously high on your thigh, fingers dragging along skin, the touch not gentle as it usually is from him.

You swallow and smile. “To be fair, you were slacking off a little.” The glare intensifies, he clicks his tongue and you feel like you might just disintegrate under the weight of it all. 

He pulls back again and stands up, running a hand through his hair and eyeing you. “I knew something was up when you said we were going out together, but I thought you just missed me, wanted to spend some time with me. Not fuck around and get me riled up at work. Tch, what do I do with you now.” It isn’t a question as he shakes his head like you’re a disobedient student in need of reprimanding. Or punishment.

Oh god, why is it… kind of hot? 

No–absolutely hot.

A shiver works through as you sit up, pulling your legs under to kneel on the bed, hands folded in your lap and staring silently with wide eyes up at him. Feigning innocence you definitely have no room for.

Satoru laughs, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “You are unbelievable,” He looks back at you, eyes bright and wild and lips curved in a filthy grin. He motions with two fingers. “Stand up, come here, now.”

You obey and move to stand in front of him, he pops the buttons on your uniform jacket and practically tears it off, tossing it onto the dresser. He yanks your shirt off to throw on top of the jacket and presses closer, stepping forward and using his body to force you back down on the bed. He grabs your legs and throws you farther up. The skirt stays on, for now.

Your legs draw together as you lift up on your elbows to watch him unzip his own jacket and shrug it off. The usual black compression shirt hugs him but it only stays on for a moment before he tugs it off too. Both are discarded onto the growing laundry pile on the dresser. 

His whole body is tense, coiled tight like a spring. Shoulders hiked, biceps flexed, veins pressed up under pale skin, big hands in loose fists at his sides, toned chest rising and falling in short breaths. Like a predator ready to pounce.

He absolutely catches you staring and clicks his tongue at your smile before crawling back over, settling his hips between your thighs and holding himself up with a hand beside your head, the other gliding firmly up your bare side. His face drops to yours. Lips pressing hard, your mouth opens for him as his tongue forces inside in a dominating, suffocating kiss.

The buckle on his belt digs into the soft skin low on your stomach and you whimper into his mouth at the cold bite of the metal, pushing at his hips to lift him. But he groans deep in his throat—almost a growl again—and pushes harder against you.

Finally Satoru pulls back and sits up again, lifting your leg to rest on his shoulder and dragging his mouth down your calf, grazing with his teeth and nipping harshly at the skin, eyes drifting down between your legs.

His hand follows his gaze and he glides a finger up your slit, just light enough to wet it with the slick leaking out and he hisses through his teeth. “Look at that, absolutely soaked. It turns you on, huh? Making me chase you around like a fucking animal?” He grits against your leg, biting down hard.

You bite down on your lip to stifle the noise threatening to tear out of your throat and Satoru leans down close to your face, pressing your leg to your chest 

“No, don’t bother trying to act shy now. I know what you want and I know you’re just gonna do it all over again to get it if I don’t break you right here and now.” He says, low and in control, but it sounds like a threat, his usually bright eyes dark and locked on yours.

“I know you, so don’t pretend like you didn’t have a little fun too.” You roll your eyes, still holding your ground. Why? You love sweet, kind and caring Satoru, but maybe you enjoy watching this barely tethered part of him snap free a little bit more every time you push him.

“See?” He hisses in your face, teeth bared and jaw clenched hard. “Right back at it. Never thought I'd say this, but you need a hard lesson on respect.”

You choose your next words carefully, knowing you’re walking a very thin line right now.

“So you’re gonna break me, huh? Teach me a lesson? How exactly do you plan on doing that? Hey… sensei?” 

He chuckles, the sound is condescending and wicked and he sits up again, “Well, you’re obviously dying for me to play with you, so lets fucking play, baby.” Those words send something akin to fear tingling up your spine, but it’s hotter and settles deep. It’s anticipation. Excitement. 

He stands up and you lean up on your elbows again, biting your lip and staring shamelessly as his hands move to undo his belt. Your breath catches as he tugs the black leather free from his waistband and runs the length of it through his hand. 

His dress pants drop the slightest bit without the belt, the black waistband of his boxers visible now. Even more of the hard, curved lines at his hips visible now too. Same with the soft trail of white hair that descends from his navel to disappear into his waistband. 

You drag your eyes up slowly to meet his gaze, lingering over every inch of his infuriatingly perfect body and taking your time knowing the second you look him in the eye and speak, it’s so fucking over.

Your knees draw up and press together, smirking as you finally meet his darkened eyes and sealing your fate, you open your mouth to say, “What are we playing? I know you like Go but that's kind of an old person game.”

A smile curves his lips and it drips with wicked intent. “Keep talking if it’ll make you feel better about this, but you know I’m right.” He steps forward, belt in hand and grabs your ankle to yank you down the bed to him. A yelp escapes and he laughs at that, towering over with the cruel smirk still teasing the corner of his mouth.

“Arms up.” He demands and you’re a little embarrassed by how quickly you oblige.

He grips both wrists in one hand and fastens the belt around them, tugging the loop tight and secure before sliding an arm around your waist to lift you higher up on the bed again.

You watch his face as he works, brow furrowed while he ties the long end of the belt onto the headboard. He gives it a quick tug and grunts in approval.

Your skin buzzes as he trails his hand down your arm, fingers lightly gliding down to trace the swell of your breast, dragging down the curve of your waist, his eyes following the smooth trail of his hand.

He meets your eyes and you bite back a smile, his gaze narrows and he gets up off the bed to walk back to the dresser and grab his jacket. Keeping his back to you as he digs in the pocket and pulls something out.

Your heart races and you lift your head to peer at what he’s holding. But it starts hammering when Satoru turns around, blindfold hooked over a finger.

You blink and stare at each other for a few seconds before he cocks his head. Realization settles in and you lick your lips and nod slowly.

“I don’t believe for a single second that you’re speechless already, use your words.” He commands and again, you’re almost embarrassed by how quickly you react.

You nod again, quickly this time and kick yourself at how frantically the words come out. “Mhm! Yes, th-that’s okay—totally okay!”

“Yes, what?”

Ohh, so it's like that.

The tone immediately changes. Control here changes hands real fucking fast.

“Y-yes, sir.” It comes out quiet and breathless. “Please, put it on me.”

“Good girl.” He murmurs and approaches again. Your walls flutter around absolutely nothing at the praise and your breath catches again.

He tucks your hair behind your ears, the caress almost lovingly gentle. But his eyes are still dark and you catch that filthy devious smile curve his mouth before the blindfold slips over your eyes and you’re enveloped by darkness.

Satoru stays by your side for a moment, fixing your hair around the blindfold and pulling a few pieces free from the fabric before he retreats.

He’s tied you up before, but you’ve never worn his blindfold. It feels so much more intimate. The accessory is such a personal thing. The material is soft and lighter than it looks while still blocking any light from infiltrating. It sits firmly in place but it isn’t tight, just comfortable. Makes sense that it would be since he has to wear it so much.

His hand lands on your thigh and you jump a little at the sudden contact, tugging against the restraint.

“How’s that? Everything feel okay?” He murmurs and his lips graze the shell of your ear. You startle again and inhale sharply, but you nod. “What did I just say?” He whispers harshly against your ear again and his fingers dig hard into your leg.

You stutter as you scramble to answer. “Y-yes! Yes, sir! It’s good—it all feels… good.” Swallowing hard and breathing just as hard, your head rests back against the pillow.

Satoru hums his approval and retracts his hand. There’s a shuffling near the dresser and then it’s silent for a few moments before a match strikes. You swallow hard at the faint scent of smoke that blooms in the air. 

When Satoru approaches again, his hands trail over your entire body. Grazing down your arms, your legs, over your stomach, across your mouth, catching your lower lip to pull your mouth open. Chuckling lightly when you tense or jolt or gasp at the sudden contact. Your skin feels like it's on fire, every touch works to set you alight.

The anticipation of where he’ll be next, touch you next, it’s absolutely exhilarating.

He's in total and complete control right now, you can do nothing but brace for anything and everything he feels you deserve, and that he deigns to give.

Goosebumps prickle across your chest as he traces a nipple, giving the peak a flick. “You remember the word, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Say it then.”

“Yoake.” Dawn, daybreak.

He hums in approval. “Good. Use it if you need to, because I'm not going to be gentle. But that’s exactly what you want, right?” It’s not a question. One finger drags up your stomach, so lightly it’s barely a touch and you shiver. Over your sternum, up your throat. “Open.” you do, dropping your jaw and his thumb hooks into your mouth, pressing your tongue down. He grips your chin and shakes your head once. “What do you think you deserve right now?” 

All you can do is fight the tremble trying to shake your whole body. You can’t answer, not with the sting of his nail pressing into your tongue. A strangled noise like a hum pulls from the back of your throat as he shakes your head again and presses harder. 

“No? Got nothing to say now?” His breath hits your face, hot and harsh and you flinch, a whimper escaping. “Well, I guess it’s up to me then.”

His thumb leaves your mouth and you gasp a breath, swallowing the saliva pooled under your tongue. But his hand grips your face again, squishing your cheeks and forcing your lips into a pout. “You want me to play rough, right? Give you a punishment deserving of a slut who walks around flashing her cunt?”

The cruel words hit with shame and burning heat and go straight to your core. Another whimper escapes from your throat, barely making it past your lips forced open. Your legs shake on the bed, knees pressed together to keep from knocking. 

“Of course you’d like that too, so fucking dirty.” He chuckles, the sound dark and close to your face. He shakes your head again. “Answer me, slut.”

“Yesh… shir.” you barely make the words out through pouted lips.

“Yesh shir what? Use your fucking manners.” He mocks with another shake, squeezing your face harder, knowing he’s making it more difficult to speak. But he doesn’t care.

“Yesh… pl’s, shir.” He laughs again and your face burns with embarrassment. The shame is hot and mixes with arousal stirring deep as you tremble on the bed.

“There we go, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He croons, loosening his grip on your face but not letting go. “Writhing around, so slutty, so desperate for me, huh? You must’ve really missed me. Tell me how much.”

“I-I—yes, I missed you. So much, I-I missed you so much, Sato—”

“Ah, no, not that.” He cuts you off, gripping your face hard again. “Try again.”

He loosens his hand on your face and you swallow before speaking again. “I missed you so much, sir. Hate it when you leave.” 

“Ohh, I know you do, baby. Now, tell me what you want.” you don’t answer right away, not sure what exactly to say. What exactly do you want? But holding your silence when Satoru has asked a question is a mistake you don’t catch fast enough. “Don’t make me force it out of you. Say it, slut.”

“I-I want you, need you, sir. Please.” 

“Need me to what? Touch you? Fuck you? Make you come? You’re being a bit vague.” He clicks his tongue in disapproval. 

“All of it… anything, please, sir.” It comes out more pitched, whinier than you mean and he laughs again, enjoying watching you squirm under the weight of embarrassment at being rendered to a state like this.

“Mmm, anything I want, huh? Be careful saying things like that, especially when I don’t feel like being nice.”

Lips press to yours, hard and forceful and just for a moment before pulling away and taking all contact with him. It’s worse, so, so much worse, the total absence of him. The shake is uncontrollable now and you start to feel cold with his hand gone. 

But it doesn’t last long.

A sharp and startled yelp sounds out as you’re flipped onto your stomach. Your hands twist in the belt and it tightens around your wrists, digging in harder. Satoru laughs as you lift your face out of the pillow and gasp a breath. But he forces you back down, burying your face back into the soft pillowcase. A hard hand grips your hip and hauls you up into a kneel, sliding the other from the back of your head to the small of your back, pushing you into an arch.

“I think I know what you need,” Satoru starts, sliding his hand from your hip over your ass, down the back of your thigh. “Getting me worked up like that, I think that calls for a spanking, no?” 

He halts, and you realize he's waiting for an answer, he wouldn't do it without your okay. He's waiting for permission.

How very... sweet, and so Satoru.

Your face turns to inhale a long breath and you nod once. "Yes, sir. You're so right."

"Ohh, I know I am." He laughs. His hand glides back up, barely skimming the heat between your thighs. “Tch, fucking skirt,” He flips it up and out of the way, leaving your backside bare and exposed and you wiggle a little, but the hand on your spine presses down hard and holds fast. “Don’t move. Unless you want to make this harder than it has to be?”

“No. I’m sorry, sir.” you whisper, settling into the arch and giving into the command in his voice, in his hands as they travel. 

“How many times did you kiss and touch me on the job today?” Satoru’s hand glides up your spine to wind into your hair, pulling to lift your head. “Give me a number, I’ll decide if I agree with what you think.”

Your brain wracks. You know it’s not random, he wants a number for this. Fuck, how many times? More than you can probably handle.

“I-I—um, I-I don’t—”

“Wrong answer,” Fuck. “So slutty, can’t even remember how many times you pushed your ass up on me, touched my dick, fucked with me.” He grits out, the frustration in his jaw audible.

He releases your hair and shoves your face back down. “Keep count and you’ll find out. If you can last, that is.” The hand replaces on your spine, pressing firmly. “Ready for your punishment, slut?” 

You take a few breaths with your face turned again. Being spoken to like this, put in a position so exposed with sight and all control taken away, it’s humiliation. It burns hot, the lack of any option but to submit completely and take what’s given. It all goes straight to your core, making your hips cant back into Satoru’s hand as it glides over your ass in what’s probably the final soft touch that’ll land there. 

You knew he could be a little wild, a little freaky, but this is all new. You’ve never seen a side like this, but you went poking around for something different and certainly found it. You had no idea just how harsh he could get, and just how much you'd like it.

“Yes, sir. I’m ready.” It’s not a lie, you are ready, but the blow that comes nearly knocks the wind from you. You gasp a few breaths as the sting blooms hot on your left cheek. “Holy fu-fuck… one, s-sir.”

The next lands on the right this time and you choke on your own breath. He hits hard and you can barely get the words out with a stutter making your teeth clack. “T-t-two, s-s—ah!” The third lands before you even finish, on the left again and the sting there is brutal. Your teeth clench and you grit out the words he’s waiting for. “F-fuck—ohh my—fuck… th-three, sir.”

The heat, the sting, the silent command and the submission. It all seeps low and pools, molten arousal making your hips lift up and arch further. Fuck. You like it. And Satoru can tell.

A low laugh slips out with the fourth smack, on your right again and you hiss through your clenched teeth and push into his hand, unable to stop the motion before your body makes it. “F-f-f—mnh! Ohh god...” A single finger glides up your slit, wet and dripping slick with every blow.

“Keep count,” He reminds, gliding back down with almost no pressure.

“S-sorry, god—fuck… four, s-sir.”

“Look at you, this wet just from a few spankings. Is it even a punishment if you like it this much? Should I go harder?” He asks playfully and the words send a jolt through that makes you scramble. Harder?! 

“N-no! No, sir—I-I swear I—mnh!” your eyes flutter behind his blindfold as the pad of his finger presses to your clit, the dull ache in your center lifts slowly as he circles.  

“Don’t lie to me, your slutty little cunt is leaking.”

“N-no, I s-sw—agh! F-fi-five, s-sir.” He caresses your angry, probably red as fuck already left cheek. Even just that soft touch makes you hiss, the skin is so overheated and raw already.

“So you're telling me I'm wrong?” 

“No, I-I just—”

“So I’m right? You do like it?”

“N-no, I-I—motherf-ugh!”

“I don’t want to hear another ‘no’ from you again, understand? How many?” His hand traces lightly over your right cheek. You can’t help it. Your hips rock back.

“Yes, I-I understand. Six… sir.”

“Good girl.” He purrs the praise and it’s like he's pouring sweet soothing honey onto your overheated skin. A moan falls from your lips, jaw dropped and eyes rolling back as three fingers press to your cunt. The ring and index spread your lips wide and the middle teases your entrance, barely pushing in. your wrists strain against the leather of the restraint as you push back into his hand. But his other still on your spine presses down and holds fast. 

“Ah, I said not to move, didn’t I? Do you want me to stop?”

“N—” You cut yourself off and rethink the words. His hand stills, waiting for your response. “I’m sorry, sir. Pl-please don’t stop.” 

He hums a laugh, sounding pleased at the decision to rework your words. Pleased at your compliance, your eagerness. Finally, his finger pushes in. your jaw drops again and a pitched moan bubbles from your throat. Your legs shake as you fight the urge to rock back again, letting him set pace and depth.

The hand on your spine slides up, pressing and rubbing into your shoulders as he fucks you on the other hand. Your lip catches in your teeth as his lips touch your spine, trailing up with light kisses. 

“Good girl. Doing so good, baby. So tight, so wet, so greedy.” Satoru grips your hair again, pulling your head back up to murmur into your ear. “Tell me, baby, who does this slutty pussy belong to?”

It takes every ounce of control in you not to push into each thrust of his hand as he starts to twist that finger with every drag in and out.

“You, sir.”

“Say it.”

Your face burns, but when his hand stills and his grip tightens in your hair, shame is tossed aside and you blurt the words out. “Fuck, my-my slutty pussy belongs to you, sir! Mnnh—hahh!” A second finger slides in and forces another moan out, the sound strangled with your head pulled back.

The dull ache quickly fades. The pain still stinging your ass mixes with the belt on your wrists and the fullness of two thick digits fucking into you steady. Quickly drawing you close to the edge of release as a reward for the compliance. 

“You want me to make you come, yeah?” 

So fucking close. Heat curls and tightens low in your stomach, you nod. “Mmm—yes… please, sir.” Closer, pressure builds and builds. Your thighs shake with each drag in and out as it crests and—

Satoru quickly pulls his hand away just as you start to clench and you choke on a sob, your eyes prick and you squeeze them shut to force wet streams out that dampen the material of his blindfold. The screeching halt replaces pleasure and pressure with a hot, pulsing ache that borders pain. You barely get two full seconds before another blow lands on your right cheek. A cry rips from your throat with the fresh sting and more tears slip out as you pull on the belt, trying to curl in.

Satoru laughs, low and dark and amused. “Too bad, you get to come when I say so. Keep count, don’t make me remind you again.”

Your chest heaves as you take a ragged breath. “S-seven… sir.” 

“Ohh, you crying?” Satoru croons, close to your face again and you bite your lip to stop the tremble. “Go ahead, you can cry if you need to. You’re doing so good, baby, taking your punishment like such a good girl.” 

The eighth blow lands hard and all you can do is whimper. The sting, the aching loss of climax, the praise, it all whites your brain out. “Eight… sir.” you pant out, breaths coming short and fast.

Nine lands with more pleasure than pain and you push your ass into his hand. “Nine… s—ah! Mm—fuck… te-ten…si-sir.” The back to back blows are rewarded. Two fingers slide back into your heat and you moan, spine bowing to lift your hips. The switch, the back and forth from stinging pain to singing pleasure. From cruel, humiliating words, to sweet, soft praises. It’s all dizzying, fucking with your head in a way that feels psychological. 

Your legs shake as you try your damn best not to move too much, to let control be taken and the pace set for you as Satoru fucks you on his hand however he sees fit.

“I can feel it,” Satoru sucks a sharp breath through his teeth, slowing to catch every flutter as he drags out, just to add a third finger and push back in. Agonizingly slow, but the stretch to accommodate three thick digits is eyerolling. He flexes deep and at this point, anything he does will push you back up to the edge. “You want to come so bad, right? Such a desperate fucking slut.”

A whine slips out as pressure curls, the crude name melting into the heat coiling deep. He speeds up again and your breaths come in faster, shorter. Will he let me this time? Your hips jerk, walls tightening as you suck a stuttering breath in. So close. So, so close. Just one more—

You don’t even try to hold in the wet sob that heaves through as he yanks his hand away again. “Fu-fuck!” your shoulders shake with a fresh stream of tears that surge and spill. The ache is unbearable this time, like a punch to the gut. The eleventh smack lands and it doesn’t even compare. “Ele-even… sir.” 

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen and fifteen all combine with the sharp ache, like grating a wet stone against a dull blade to hone it into something deadly. Slick drips down your trembling thighs, smearing and spreading as they slide together uncomfortably, the minute friction providing no relief. Between each blow, he caresses. Everywhere but your needy, desperate cunt, and it just builds on the frustration that simmers. A sheen of sweat clings to your overheated skin, catching cool air uncomfortably. It’s no relief, it just stings.

“You look fucked out, baby,” Satoru says softly as a wide palm slides up your spine, fingers splaying between your shoulder blades. “But I havent even fucked you yet. You can keep going though, right?”

You swallow against something thick and sticky in your throat and nod. “Y-yes, sir.” You don’t dare let it slip. 

“What a perfect little slut, you’d let me do anything I want to you. You’d do anything for me, right?” The words purred right in your ear send a jolt through that makes your cunt pulse around nothing because he’s right. You’d do anything for him. The thought is terrifying, exhilarating, liberating in a way. Knowing he’s in complete control and all you have to do is obey. Your head can spin and white out because you don’t have to decide. 

“I’m going to ruin you, and you’re such a fucking slut that you’re going to love it when I do.” It sounds just like another fact when he says it, indisputable. Like saying the sky is blue, or that Gojo Satoru is the strongest sorcerer. 

He retreats again and a shake wracks through your whole body at the absence of his hand, his body heat as he stands near. You sag into the bed, letting the weight of your arms hang from the restraint. An already exhausted whimper slips out, it sounds so pathetic when it hits your ears. You feel pathetic, whining, crying, trembling, all of it for more, more of him.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here, baby.” A hand on your head, petting, giving quiet reassurance. “Tell me, my little slut, how many of those spankings did you deserve?” 

“A-all of them… sir.” 

“That’s right, good girl. How many more do you think you deserve?”

Your lip trembles and you swallow with a shaky inhale. More? Fuck. The sting of the raw skin on your ass is a constant buzz now, but it pales in comparison to the sharp twisting ache in your core at two orgasms being ripped away right at their peak. What does he want me to say? How many, what number is he looking for? How many more can I even take? 

“I-I… I’m—” 

“Shh, it’s alright,” His thumb brushes over your flushed cheek, wiping at the wet edge of his blindfold. “I know, you can’t even think right now. Fucked stupid and you haven’t even taken my cock.”

A sharp, quick cry rips from your throat and your whole body twists away as something like liquid fire drizzles down your back. Every movement makes the liquid split into new molten trails. Wax. it pools in the depression of your spine and hardens as it starts to cool despite the burning heat of your skin.

“Too much? Use your word if you need to, I won't be disappointed.” He caresses your head again, clearing a few strands of hair sticking to your face. The touch is so sweet, his words are so kind. You lean into his hand, breathing deep and hard as the wax cools and hot pain subsides.

“I’m-I’m okay… it’s not too much, sir.”

Your compliance is rewarded and your cunt twitches the moment two fingers glide up. You’re on the verge of exploding with aching need. Knowing he wants noise, you don’t hold back your moan. 

“Tell me, baby girl, how good does it feel?” He’s close to your face again and his hot breath mixes with yours as you pant. He slides in deep and flexes. Ache starts to subside, pressure replacing it and you babble without thinking.

“So good. Feel-feels so, so good, sir. Fu-fuck, the best! Please, please, please, I-I—”

“The best? Better than my cock?” He teases, the tone playfully mocking. Asshole. Satoru’s hand speeds up, two fingers—middle and ring—fucking into your twitching cunt and you struggle to think, stuttering a response out quickly just to say something.

“I-I didn’t mean—I don’t—I-I just—f-fuck I love your cock! N-nothing is better, I-I just—please fuck, please I-I need to—”

“Ohh, you love my cock, huh?” He asks on a laugh. “Not more than you love me though, right?” His hand pulls back just enough to slide a third finger in again. A few curses choke out as he pushes in so fucking deep and spreads them. It draws you back up, aching tension twisting with the pressure, curling in your core and tightening. “You sound so pretty begging like that. Do it again, slut.”

Your mind is in five hundred places, and nowhere all at once and words spill out without thought or hesitation as the first pulsing wave hits. So close. 

“P-please, please, please, I-I need it. Please, please let me come, Sato—”

“Wrong again,” He rips his hand away so fast the shock of loss hurts. Unable to do anything but writhe and shake and choke on sobbed curses as stabbing pain worse than ever twists and spreads. It radiates from your core—still pulsing around nothing, but its useless, release is gone—up your spine and down your legs. Your head is fuzzy, dizzy from the darkness and being pushed and pulled from pain and degradation, to pleasure and praise.

You could stop it all right now, but you don’t want to. You want everything that this twisted side of Satoru has to give, even if it hurts. 

His hand smooths your hair, petting softly again. “I know it hurts, baby girl. Tell me what you need.”

“I-I need to co-come… sir.” you get it right this time and he hums above you, sounding pleased and amused.

“Ask me—nicely, and maybe I’ll let you.” His other hand drags up your thigh, over your abused ass, and back down. It’s soft, but it lights up the hot sting again and you wince.

“Please, sir, please let me—m-make me come. Please I’ll do anything just please, please, please fuck… le-let—let me—”

“Yeah, I bet you’d do anything. I told you to be careful saying things like that, I’m still not feeling very nice.” He brushes your hair back, exposing your neck. His lips press to the flushed skin of your throat and his hair tickles your cheek. 

“You look so perfect like this, baby. Maybe I’ll just leave you tied up here. You can be my perfect little toy to fuck whenever I want.”  Those words send a fresh jolt of lightning through and you gasp, but he just keeps going, nipping hard between words. “Who knows… maybe I’ll finally fuck a baby into you, too. Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you, slutty girl?” 

The heat that gathers is so confusing. The idea of being locked up and bred is heart pounding, but your head isn’t together enough to tell your body not to react. Your back arches a little more, your cunt clenches and a sigh escapes that pitches like a moan. 

Well… that’s new. This psychological mind fuck is doing some weird shit… would you like it?

“Ohh my fucking god,” Satoru laughs, throwing his head back. “You totally would, wouldn’t you? Well, I can’t lie, I like the sound of that too. Keeping you here, putting my baby in you—maybe a few actually. But I’m just fucking with you, it’s only fair, right?”

Without warning, you’re flipped over onto your back again. Your ass hits the bed and your teeth clench, lifting up to take the pressure off. The buttons on your skirt pop and Satoru pulls it off, you hear it land somewhere across the room. Still completely deprived of sight, the flip was disorienting. The only thing grounding you right now is Satoru, and you have no idea where he is now.

“S-Sato—”

“Shh, I'm right here. Just relax, spread your legs for me.”

Your lip catches in your teeth and you hesitate, knees still drawn together and thighs clenched. Your whole body is on fire, face burning with embarrassment at the command. But you've done the wrong thing, again.

Your cheeks squish in his grip and he shakes your head. “Don’t make me ask twice. Do it, slut.” you swallow down pride and shame and slide your feet apart on the sheets, opening your legs. “More.” you comply, widening further. The grip on your face eases, his thumb traces over your mouth. “Just like that, pretty girl.”

A firm slap lands right on your cunt, sending a jolt of white hot lightning through and it steals the air right from your lungs. No sound comes from your open mouth as you fight your legs from closing around his hand stilled between them. The slap itself isn’t really painful, but it sharpens the ache that had started to dull back into something that stabs in your gut and you tremble again.

“Is this everything you were hoping for?” He’s close again, breath hitting your face. “Am I being rough enough to satisfy your sick little game of getting me fucking feral in hopes that I fuck your slutty lights out?”

Your mouth opens but before you can say a word, his lips press to yours in a deep, hard kiss. His tongue is hot as it pushes in, sliding against yours. 

“I'm sorry, sir… I’m-I'm sorry.” When he pulls back it's all you can do, just apologize, because you can't deny that he's right. 

“No, no, don’t lie to me,” He straightens and takes the hand between your legs with him. “You’re not sorry at all.”

There's movement just above your head and you feel his hands work as he undoes the knot tying his belt to the headboard. He loops the tail around your wrists and tucks it in, leaving it to hang between your hands.

“Think you can stand up?” He asks, pulling you to sit up by the tail. You nod and feel around for the edge of the bed. Satoru helps you find it and your feet plant on the floor. The second your weight shifts to stand, your legs wobble and give out and you fall flat back on your sore ass. 

“Yeah, I didn't think so.” He chuckles, “It's alright, come here, put your arms up.” You do as he says and your arms rest over his bare shoulders, wrists bound behind his head. He lifts you up, hands under your thighs as he moves. You can't tell what he's doing, where he's going, but he took his pants off at some point because his cock is free and pressed between you both. Your knees hit the bed again and hands move to your hips.

“Arms up,” He shifts under you and pulls you forward. Your hands shoot out for balance and find his chest as your pussy drags over almost the full length of his cock. The friction against your clit pulls a guttural noise from your throat. 

“Alright, here's what's gonna happen, baby girl, if you want to come so badly, you're going to work for it. You understand what I'm saying, right?”

Oh fucking finally.

“Yes, I-I understand, sir.”

“Go ahead then,” your hips lift, but with your hands still bound and the blindfold still on, you’re struggling to even get started. A frustrated noise slips out as you shift around and try to do this hands free like it’s bluetooth. “Aww, need a hand?” 

With your legs shaking like jello, unable to even see what the fuck you’re doing even if you could line up properly, he knows you do. Asshole. You bite your tongue though, knowing it won’t do you any good to snap. 

“Mhm. Please help, I-I can’t—”

“Lift up. Higher.” you lean forward, putting your weight on his chest to do as he says. One hand on your hip adjusts the position and the other must be holding the base of his cock because the tip glides through your folds, rubbing against your clit. The friction sparks white hot and your jaw drops, a whine crawling up from the back of your throat. “All set, baby girl, go ahead, take what you want.”

Finally, your hips lower and your cunt stretches around the blunt head of his cock.

“Ohh my fucking—hah… shit you are sooo fucking tight now.” He hisses, hand gripping your hip hard and just holding as you work him deeper. “Hey baby, liked that spanking, huh? Me too. Maybe I'll let you get me worked up like this again—mnnh… fuuuck.” He moans as he bottoms out, your walls fluttering around the full length of his cock. Your sore ass meets his thighs and you still for a moment to adjust, panting hard at the fullness.

“Thought you wanted to come so bad?” Satoru mocks, “But maybe you don’t want it bad enough.” He smacks your ass—not hard, but the sting makes you hiss and rock back into his hand as it grips there. 

Lifting back up on shaky legs, hands splayed out over Satoru’s flat chest, you slide halfway up and sink back down. Gasping as you roll your hips and rock back, grinding your clit on his pelvis as his cock hits deep and sweet. Your thighs are fucking burning, but you don’t dare stop.

“Oh shit, ohh that’s so fucking hot,” He groans, you arch into his hand as he cups your breast. “Baby girl, you should see yourself right now, you look so fucking desperate. Fucking yourself stupid on my cock like a good slut.” He rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger hard enough to elicit a little cry. But you don't stop. It goes straight to your cunt, squeezing tight and his cock twitches inside when you grind down. The ache finally starts to lift, and you ignore the protest in your legs to work faster. 

“You want it, right? Want me to let you come?” 

“Yes, please—fuck i’m—mnnh—so-so close… please, s-sir—ahh.” He squeezes the abused cheek in his hand and you hiss. The sting curls with the heat coiling low, tightening down your abs, pressure blooms in your core and builds higher and tighter. So close. 

“I know, I can feel it, I can fucking see it. I got a great view here, I can just sit back and watch you fucking wreck your slutty cunt on my cock.” He bucks up as you sink down and hits so fucking deep that with a cry, your whole body seizes, and you finally come.

It hits violently, like a punch. Knocking the wind right from your lungs as your cunt clenches, pulsing around his cock with every wave that tears through. “Ohh my—fucking shit—I should get a fucking medal for not just taking you right there in that office.” He moans, both hands tight on your hips. “Ohh mnnh… but I waited, played your game and caught you fair,”

Your arms lock to keep from falling forward, as you gasp and shudder, twitching and grinding to ride the orgasm out. Satoru shifts under you, rolling his hips up and pressing hard into a spot deep and sensitive. It sends a sharp jolt through and you choke on the noise in the back of your throat, lifting up. But he pulls you back down and bucks up again. 

“No, no, it’s my turn, baby girl. I let you take what you needed, and now, I'm going to use your cunt like a fleshlight until I come.” His voice is sweet, dripping saccharine honey. But the words are fucking vile and again, so confusing as your pussy flutters.

What the fuck, Satoru?!

You start to stutter something out but Satoru grips your waist with both hands, lifts, and slams you back down. 

Your nails scratch and dig into his chest, more tears slipping out, and you grit your teeth as he pulls you down to meet each brutal thrust of his hips. He inhales with a hiss, and lets out a low moan, fucking hard up into you as deep as possible. 

The sting, the pain, he's getting off on it.

This feels like a punishment and your arms—already weak and trembling—give out. You fall forward with a sob and your chest heaves as your forehead smacks Satoru's shoulder. He doesn’t stop or slow, holding you up by the waist and splitting you open with every punishing buck of his hips.

“Look at me, I wanna see your pretty face while I ruin you.”

He's not stopping. He's not slowing. He's getting faster. Your core spasms, oversimulated, with every drag of his cock. You can’t do it, you can’t answer, you can barely breathe, it’s like he’s punching the air from your lungs. 

In a flash, up becomes down, down becomes up and you can't tell which of the two you are. Your back hits the bed again. Down then. He rips the blindfold off and you squeeze your eyes shut as blinding light hits your retinas. Fingers wrap around your throat, not squeezing, just holding firmly. 

“Look at me. Don’t make me repeat myself.” He commands low, almost a growl again, grip tightening slightly on your neck to shove you down harder and you blink an eye open. 

A blurry Satoru looks down at you, angelic for only a moment with an aura of light cast from behind. Your eyes adjust slowly and take in the sight of teeth bared in a manic smile. Usually bright and soft blue eyes dark with blown pupils, wild and wide. A flush tinges his face, pieces of platinum hair stuck to his temples and forehead with sweat.

He looks fucking crazy.

The sight sends lightning up your spine and you shiver. He laughs. Your leg is over his shoulder and you have no idea when that happened.

“Tell me, my little slut, am I playing rough enough? You wanted me to chase you like an animal, am I fucking feral enough for you?” He grits out through clenched teeth.

Your head spins and fresh tears spill as Satoru picks up the pace again. Gravity on his side, he fucks into you harder and deeper than before. Another orgasm looms and your core tightens almost painfully. 

“Gonna come again? Mnnh—yeah you are,” He moans, biting his lip. “Such a good slut, take my cock so fucking perfect. Gonna take my cum too? Yeah you will—ohh fu-fuck—ta-take my fucking—ahh!” Jaw dropped, his eyes roll, pale lashes fluttering as he slams in balls deep and his cock kicks. His hips stutter, grinding against your cervix and you convulse with his hand tightening around your throat. 

The second orgasm hits like a fucking truck and a guttural cry tears from your throat. Satoru spills inside as your cunt spasms and milks every drop of hot cum that spurts. He doesn’t stop, riding out every last shuddering wave.

When you come back down to earth, Satoru is panting above, finally stilled. His eyes half lidded and softened a little bit, the crazed look faded a little with his orgasm.

Fresh wetness wells in your eyes and streams down to tickle your ears as you blink. The tremble returns and Satoru’s hand moves from your throat, to your cheek, brushing through the salty tracks. “I know, I know, baby girl. Are you okay?” He asks softly, taking your leg off his shoulder. you nod once and he smiles, the one that reaches his eyes to crinkle the edges.

You sniffle and stare up at him, your heart doesn’t stop pounding and you know it isn’t totally from the thorough workout he just put you through.

“What?” He asks softly, laying down flat on top of you and propping himself up on his elbows to not crush you. His body heat leeches into you and his weight eases the tremble.

You shake your head weakly with a small smile. “Nothing. You’re pretty.”

“Yeah? You’re pretty too, but don’t think I’m letting you off the hook if you sweet talk me.” The smile on his face is still sweet, but the little quirk in the corner of his mouth hints at something else. “Feel free to keep it up with the compliments though.”

You bite your lip and let your head roll to the side a little and he seizes the opportunity, kissing down your neck to your collarbone and tracing it back up with his tongue. It makes you shiver and your walls pulse around the cock that’s still inside and rapidly getting hard again.

Jesus fucking christ. Already? 

Satoru lifts his head just enough to look at you, his lips against your jaw as he says in that sultry ‘I know I just came, but I’m horny again’ voice, “You’re talking just fine, ready for another one? Sure feels like it.” Just to prove his point he moves to push deeper into you.

You take a shaky breath and nod once. You wince a little as he pulls out, shoving your legs up against your chest. “Look at that,” Satoru exhales, “you’re making such a mess, baby.” He clicks his tongue at you like he’s not the one that made said mess. Like it’s not his cum dribbling out.

You don’t get a moments reprieve. Two fingers push everything back inside, sliding in deep with a steady rhythm and you inhale with a shudder. He pulls them out and your hands are unbound but only for a brief moment. In one smooth motion he flips you over onto your stomach and pulls your arms around behind your back. 

He loops the belt around, cinching it right around your wrists again. He lifts your hips up and you turn your head to the side to breathe. He tugs the belt, pulling your shoulders back to lean over you. “I’m going to make you come until you’re nothing but a drooling mess. And I see no drool yet, but since you’re a filthy fuckin’ mess, I’ll be nice and clean you up before I ruin you again.”

He shifts back behind you and your jaw drops, a strangled moan catching in the back of your throat as he licks a long stripe up your slit, tongue flat. He groans and grips the back of your thigh, high and pulling to spread you open. 

“Ohh, mnnh—fuck fuck fuck! Sa-Sato-ruuu! I-I—ohh god!” You cry out as Satoru’s tongue slides inside, mouth pressed to your cunt and slurping. Your thighs tremble, his grip tightening around your right to hold you in place and keep you open to him. Tongue flexing and curling to catch the mix of his and your cum. Your hands ball into fists behind your back, toes curling and keening with the way he pushes deeper, grazing with teeth to make you jolt. 

He glides back down, taking your clit into his mouth to suck and flick and grind his tongue. His face pressed hard against you, nose pushing into your fluttering core with every movement. Already working you quickly back up to the edge, your stomach tightens. 

Your face buried in the sheets to muffle cries as pressure crests. Your hips buck, pushing back into him and with a groan vibrating against your clit, another orgasm wracks through. He doesn’t stop, just keeps sucking and grazing with teeth. Not until you start kicking out, tears streaming again and almost screaming from overstimulation does he pop off.

He pulls you up with one hand on the restraint, snaking around with the other to grip your face and tilt your head back to him. Pressed up to Satoru, his chest and abs warm against your back, his mouth comes down on yours and his tongue pushes in. You taste it immediately. His cum and your slick, his spit, a filthy, creamy mixture that invades your mouth with his tongue. 

“Open,” He murmurs as he pulls back. You do, of course, and whine out when he spits a drip of the mix right into your mouth. “Fuck, you’re so filthy.” He breathes against your mouth when you swallow it down, your eyes on his as he holds you up with a large hand over your throat.

Satoru shoves you back down, forcing your spine into a mean arch with a palm between your shoulderblades and a firm grip on your hip. “Y’know, I've learned a few things as a teacher,”

“One of them being that repetition is key to getting a lesson to stick.” He nudges your legs apart with his knee, settling behind you and sliding the head of his cock through your folds before lining himself up again and pressing inside with a groan. “Mnnh… yeah, I think I need to drill this one into you a few more times.”

One hand grips your hip again, thumb pressing hard into the dimple on your back, the other wrapped in the tail of the belt, using it as leverage to pull you back and meet his hips on every thrust.

You twist and bury your face into the sheets as he slams into you, muffling the moan Satoru forces out. He yanks the belt, pulling your shoulders back. “No, no, don’t hide, baby girl. Look at me, I wanna see your face when I fuck you, wanna hear what you sound like when I break you.”

Hair messy and caught around your face, your cheek presses into the bed as he eases on the belt. “Good girl,” Satoru croons, curling over your back to get in close to your face as he ruts into you. Hips angled just so to drag along the spot that has your mouth hanging open as you gasp for breath. “So pretty like this, how many more before you can’t talk anymore, hmm?” He hums against your neck, lips brushing the pulse point as he clears the strands of hair from your face.

The juxtaposition of the gentle caress of his hand against the punishing pace he sets is dizzying. Fucking into you hard and fast, hitting the perfect angle with each drag through your walls. You want to bury your face again, turn away from the sight of Satoru, the smirk on his parted lips as he breathes hard, sending hot air over your already overheated skin. His eyes lidded and painfully blue with something still wild in them.

But you don’t dare look away, not even as pressure coils like a white hot wire in your core and makes your eyes flutter and threaten to close. “F-fuck I—mnh—I-I,” You stutter, not even really sure what you’re trying to say as the pressure builds, your mind going fuzzier with every thrust. 

What was the question again? 

“Ah! Ngh—f-fu-fuck!” Satoru’s arm wraps around, hand dipping between your legs to work dizzying circles on your sensitive clit.

“Go on, say it, say what you want to.” He taunts. Something amused and cruel in his breathy voice as you buck wildly, tears blurring your vision as you choke on gasping breaths. You want to glare and snap something, but you’re coming apart. “No? Can’t talk? That didn’t take long.”

Your body shudders, mouth dropped wide open. Your abs tense, hands pulling at the restraint that Satoru holds tight on, unrelenting. He fucks into you as your walls pulse and grip his cock, never slowing. It certainly feels like a punishment as pressure crests and you clench hard, every part of your body going rigid and tense and you freeze.

“Ohh yes, fuckin’ come for me baby, god you feel so fucking good—mnnh—so good, squeeze my cock so, so fucking good! Ohh fuck, fuck—right there, huh? Love it just like this, yeah? Ooh me too, baby, me too, fuuuck!” He moans, blabbing away utter nonsense with a snap of his hips on every desperate word and it just fucking breaks you.

Your eyes roll, body locked up and shuddering with every aching wave that crashes on each brutal thrust. Jolting with every ministration of the middle finger pressed to your clit, jaw dropped and slack in a silent cry.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, just keeps fucking you into overstimulation. “Another one, you can give me another one, right, my perfect little slut?” He asks, greedy and breathy and right in your face again.

A whine that sounds pathetic to your own ears slips out, broken and ragged as you manage a weak nod. You can’t see even with your eyes barely open. Tears flow and blur his face, your vision already unfocused.

Your whole body convulses as he fucks you right into another orgasm. It wracks through with pain this time. You can barely feel your hands with the belt cutting off blood flow, the buckle biting into your skin in a way you can’t feel now but will be painfully aware of later.

He’s blabbing again, but you can’t hear it. Only the sound of blood pumping in your ears rings out. Satoru slows a little, grabbing your face and turning you to him. You can’t focus, can’t think, feeling nothing but aching fullness.

Is this what fucked out feels like?

Satoru pulls out and you choke on a sob as he drags through your sore cunt. He flips you over onto your back, hands still restrained under you. You work hard to focus on his face as he leans over, cupping your cheek and brushing his thumb over the trail of tears spilling.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” He says so softly, so gentle as he caresses your face that your lip trembles. “Almost done, okay? One more, okay baby girl?” your stomach twists and drops at those words. But you’re not about to stop now, not when you’ve made it this far. Managing another weak nod, your whole body trembles with the anticipation that looms dreadfully.

“God, you’re such a good girl,” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your puffy lips, the wobble in them stabilizing under his kiss. He pulls back and lifts your shaky legs, holding both ankles up in one hand as he guides himself back to your entrance.

With your thighs pressed together, it takes a moment for him to work the head of his cock back in. Satoru inhales sharply with a wince as he pushes inside and you whimper, eyes squeezed tight and streaming fresh tears.

“Ooh shit… tight—hahh—ooh fuck thats a tight fit,” He exhales slow as he works back in deeper, hitting the spot inside so overworked and abused that your entire body twitches as his cock drags against it again and again. “One more, one more’ll break you real good.” Satoru brushes the wetness away again as he croons, his voice so soft and at complete odds with the words that spill. “You can do it baby, I know you can. You’ll take everything I give you, right?”

You whimper and nod again and he groans like this is killing him. The pace of his thrusts pick up but he holds back from slamming in. “Take my cock so well, so perfect, like you were made just for me.”

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and lowers to press your thighs to your chest and bring his face close again. “So, so perfect that it drives me fucking crazy, I think you were made to drive me crazy.”

The angle now gets him so fucking deep that stars burst behind your eyelids. He kisses you again, chest pressed hard and all around in the way that would be too much, suffocating if it were anyone but Satoru.

He’s the only person that you’d feel safe doing this with. The only person you’d ever even want to do this with. If you said the word right now, he would stop. No questions asked, the game would screech to a halt the moment you needed it to and you’d be released from the restraint.

But the drive to reciprocate, to please. To give Satoru everything just the same as he does, feeling safe enough to do so, you won’t stop him from taking anything and everything he wants.

Your already spent body responds to him, to his touch as he lights up your skin so sensitive it’s like his fingertips are dripping a trail of liquid flame. It feels so good to be completely devoid of anything that isn’t his mouth pressed to yours, his cock as he splits you open with every snap of his hips.

Your pussy clenches in aching pulses, the pain that radiates from your core is sweet. You’ve never shied away from extremes being a jujutsu sorcerer, but the feeling of being fucked well past your breaking point is unreal.

“Gonna come, yeah?” His breath hits your face, so hot. “Ohh, yeah you are, I can feel it riiight there.” He's buried to the hilt, grinding against your cervix and a choked cry rips from your throat, spine bowing in an agonizing arch.

It’s the last straw and your final orgasm tears through in tortuous wave after tortuous wave. It’s agony in the best way possible and as your pussy clamps around his cock, it sends Satoru over the edge too.

“Mnnh—fuck yeah, that’s it baby—just like that, come on my cock—hah, ooh fuck—take it all out of me,” He pants, pace growing more and more erratic. Giving you no chance to respond to anything he asks or says, knowing damn well you can barely fucking nod right now. “You want it? Gonna take all my cum like a good slut? Mnnh—I’m gonna fill you the fuck up, pump you so full you’re still gonna be dripping with me on the next mission. Maybe you’ll—hah—think twice before fucking with me like that again.” The clench to his jaw is audible, frustration still pent up and lingering.

“Ohh my—fucking take it s-sl—ahhh!” Satoru gasps, breath catching in his throat. His cock buried impossibly deep and kicking as his hips stutter and he spills inside your spasming cunt. He doesn’t stop, slowing a little but he keeps going, moaning while he fucks his cum deeper into you. Spilling more with each thrust.

Your legs shake over his shoulders, mouth open in a silent cry, hiccuping wetly. You can’t even feel your hands anymore, they’ve gone numb beneath you. Your vision swims, blurred and crossed and barely registering Satoru as he finally stills and huffs to catch his breath above you.

It’s exactly as he said. Head spinning and devoid of anything but Satoru.

Definitely fucked out.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Satoru brushes fresh tears away and leans in close, studying your face. “I know, it was a lot, huh? You okay, baby girl?" you manage another weak nod, letting your eyes slide shut. “Yeah, I bet you’re fuckin’ tired. You did so good, baby, took it all like total champ.” He chuckles and you would too, but all you can do is whimper as he pulls out.

“I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t go anywhere—if you can even move.” He teases with a laugh, sliding off the bed to his feet. You’d roll your eyes and scoff, but you don’t have the energy.

All you can do is roll onto your side to take the weight off your hands, pulling your knees up to your chest. It’s cold without his body heat and you clench your teeth to keep them from chattering. Time stretches, distorting seconds into minutes, minutes into hours. 

How long has he been gone? Why did he even leave? Is he mad? Should you have done something differently? Was it not good for him? 

Were… you not good enough? 

The tension in your gut aches as you turn your face into the sheets to muffle a sob. Body shuddering with each heaving breath. 

It’s irrational and you know it, but you can’t help it. The chill, the exhaustion, the solitude, the absence of Satoru’s presence, it all settles into your aching body to weigh you down further.

“Oh my god, I don’t think my dick has been this sore since I was—” Satoru cuts himself off and he climbs back onto the bed. He rubs your arm and leans into view as your eyes flutter open, lashes wet. “Hey, hey! I’m here, no, no, don’t cry, baby girl, please.” Concern etched across his features. His brow furrowed, eyes softened and bright once more. The wildness gone from them.

“Sa-Satoru… I-I—” A wet hiccup chokes the rest of the words and he works to undo the belt, releasing your wrists. Your shoulders sag and he rolls you onto your back again, cupping your face with both hands.

“Shh, it’s okay. You did so so good baby, fucking amazing. I’m gonna take care of you now, okay?” He takes both wrists, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of each. “Do they hurt?” you shake your head. You can barely even feel them, but you’re sure you will soon with the blood rushing back.

He scoops you up, murmuring soft words that you can't make out, but reassure nonetheless. Your head turns and you  bury your face into his chest, letting the warmth of his body comfort as he holds you tight and carries you to the bathroom. Steam wafts through the room. The bathtub is full, you didn't even hear the water run.

“I’ll be right outside, okay?” He sets you down, “Let me know when you’re done cause I’m gonna join you, my back is fuuucking killing me.” He laughs, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek and you nod with a small smile. 

He leaves you to use the washroom in peace and you sit with your arms hugging around your body. A slight tremble still in your legs but the warm steam keeps the chill at bay.

Uncertain and invasive thoughts curl and dance like smoke at the edges of your fuzzy mind. They twist words, pick apart reassurance and thrust horrid sentences to the forefront. 

You take a few deep breaths. Letting all of it pass through without holding onto anything too tightly. Knowing it’s all just exhaustion after the excess adrenaline and endorphins, just chemistry fizzling back to normal—well, as normal as your brain can get.

Even though it feels like every muscle is on fire, like your guts might actually be rearranged now and you could maybe pass out right here on the toilet. It feels so good. 

The pure bliss of having one’s back blown out.

When you’re finished, Satoru throws the door open, striding in quickly. A quiet laugh escapes. He’s still butt naked. “Someone’s looking a little more alive,” He takes your face in one hand, lifting your chin. “Whats so funny, hmm?”

You shake your head once. “Nothing…” you trail off, pausing for a moment before deciding fuck it. Shame vacated the building long ago, especially after all that. “Just, your dick smacks around when you walk.” His lips purse with a frown. 

“Do you make a point of staring at my dick when I walk?” He smirks knowingly, fucker is way too handsome for his own good. “Or do your eyes just gravitate there naturally?” 

He helps you into the bathtub, and you practically melt in the hot water. The sting on your ass reignites when you sit with a hiss, but it subsides quickly. Satoru slides into the big porcelain tub behind you and pulls you close with an arm around your middle. He has to bend his knees a little but all six foot… three? Four? Six foot something of him fits well. You lay back and let your head rest on his shoulder. 

You barely stay conscious as Satoru rubs your body down, working tension out of your legs and arms. He washes your hair and you nearly drool as long, talented fingers scrub your scalp. Finished, he helps you out, wrapping you up in a soft towel and carrying you back out to curl up in bed. Satoru murmurs sweet praises and soft reassurances through it all.

You’re sipping the water he got for you when he says something with a cheeky smirk that makes you choke. 

“So… when are you coming out with me again?”

a/n ⋆. 𐙚 This is a reworked chapter from my long fic (Hate to Break it to You) on ao3, the smut is too good (and kinky) not to post here so here you go sluts! was there a point? not really, but merry kinktober!

[slvttyplums]

nerdjo gets off on your crying .✦ ݁˖ request by lovely anon! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

satoru didn’t mind being the guy that you fall back to when his brother did something wrong. 

it strokes his ego whenever you come running back to him with tears streaming down your face and whining about how much of an asshole his brother is and going on long tangents about the other girls he's talking to and how he's constantly ghosting you after sex.

this is what he wants; the more you complain, the more of an open door he has to put you on his lap and coo about how you’re way too good for his brother and how no one else can handle you while his dick pokes into your ass, fighting the urge to slide it against your slit that he knows is soaking. 

whenever he sees those tears and hears the whimpers that erupt from your chest, he can’t help but imagine what it will feel like having his dick inside of you and feeling your wet walls cling to his dick while you cry. 

adrenaline pumps through his veins when he hears that knock on the door and your little sniffles that passed through it; it's something he's thought about and jerked off to more times than he could keep up with. 

before he opens the door, all the blood has rushed to his dick, and it's pushing against his sweatpants. you were always too distraught and in your head to notice.

even when you’re on his lap, you never register in the moment that he's hard or the fact that he’s rubbing against you while you sob your heart out. 

he doesn’t feel bad, not even one bit. to him this is almost like payment, plus it made you feel better after the fact; it wasn’t hurting you, so he keeps doing it, keeps using your sadness as goon fuel. 

jerking himself off crazy once you leave out, or if you’re staying over that night.

too tired and exhausted from crying to go back to your dorm, he’ll jerk off with you in the same bed, staring at your pretty face the entire time. 

the comfort he gives you is transactional; when you’re crying, that's when he puts you in his lap, kisses your cheek, and softly bounces his leg, telling you everything that you want to hear because he's getting what he wants. 

you give him tears and a boner; he gives you comfort and the same song over again from the last time. if you’re not crying, he's at a distance, slowly nodding his head, clearly disinterested. 

it's better if you’re sobbing, looking at him with those big eyes filled to the brim with tears that continue to spill over while he talks you through your crying.

it gets him off more when you’re looking at him snuggling into his touch, cum spilling from his tip, making a wet spot in his sweats. 

he puts the blame on his brother every single time; maybe if he treated you right, you wouldn't be running to him every time in those tiny clothes, whining for him.

as long as you’re crying and beating yourself up about how this happens every time things are going good.

satoru will be here picking up the pieces while rubbing himself off while you sat in his lap sniffling, saying how he’s so nice for always opening his door and not knowing next time it’ll be your legs.

[saintshigaraki]

another thing you can’t do around gojo is pout bc he will grab your cheeks in his ginormous hand and give you a little shake. ask what’s got his baby soooooo upset

[shokocide]

STUCK WITH YOU - GOJO SATORU

summary. Gojo Satoru—strongest, cockiest, and, according to him, the hottest man alive—bows to no one. Until you came along and suddenly, he’s on his knees.

word count. 10.6k (i..dont know)

content. mdni fem! reader, zombie apocalypse au, violence, blood, pet names, satoru is a certified tease, cute banter because we love that here, they're so down bad for each other, smut, oral (fem rec.), p in v, loss of virginity (reader), praise, breeding, creampie, overstim, soft satoru <3

author's note. i miss my man

The sky had been burning when the world ended.

You were fifteen—just a kid with scraped knees and a heart too big for the horrors it was about to witness. 

Sirens wailed through the streets, helicopters thundered above, and the sharp stench of smoke and decay clung to the air like death itself. One moment, your parents were urging you to run, voices trembling with fear. The next, everything shattered. A scream. Blood. The gurgled breath of something that wasn’t quite human anymore.

You had survived. Somehow. Alone.

But the cost of survival was everything.

-

The woods are silent, save for the crunch of your boots over frostbitten leaves. The moon hangs high above, pale and cold, casting everything in an unforgiving glow. You keep your knife gripped tight in one hand, the other cradling your growling stomach. It’s been three days since you last found anything remotely edible.

Every snap of a branch, every whisper of wind feels like a threat. Years alone have trained you to expect the worst.

Then you pause.

Smoke. Just a wisp of it in the air. You sniff again, slower this time. It's faint, but definitely there.

You move like a shadow, quiet and cautious, weaving through trees toward the scent. And then you see it:

A flickering campfire nestled in a hollow clearing, throwing gold and orange light onto the figures beside it. Two men. Asleep—at least, you hope they are. One is lying flat on the ground, the other propped against a log, limbs long and sprawled, a blindfold covering his eyes.

There’s food by the fire. Real food. Bread. Cans. Water.

You inch closer, heart hammering. It’s been years since you’ve seen other people. You don’t know if that makes this moment safer… or far more dangerous.

You creep into the circle of warmth, fingers itching toward the supplies. Just one thing. That’s all you need.

You barely breathe as you crouch beside the campfire, the heat brushing against your frozen skin like a long-forgotten comfort. Your fingers tremble as you reach for a loaf of bread—real bread—but just as your hand closes around it, your boot nudges something metallic.

CLANG.

The tin can hits the ground, and for a moment, silence swallows everything.

Then—movement.

You whip your head toward the two figures by the fire. One shoots upright in an instant, long-limbed and alarmingly fast. The other groans awake, slower, disoriented. You don’t even have time to run.

"Don't move," the taller one says—voice low, commanding. You meet his gaze and—holy hell.

Snow-white hair, cerulean eyes. He stands like someone who’s fought the world and won. His blindfold hangs around his neck, exposing everything. It's him—the one with the voice that makes your skin prickle and a face that doesn’t belong in this nightmare world.

"Well, well," he drawls, taking a step forward. "And here I thought we were the only pretty faces left."

You swallow, frozen. His companion grabs a weapon, steps forward too, more cautious.

"Who are you?" the second man demands.

The white-haired man’s eyes never leave yours. He smirks.

"She’s hungry. Look at her. Poor thing."

You clench your fists. You’ve survived too long to be pitied.

"Touch me and I swear to god—"

The man raises his hands, mockingly innocent.

"Easy, sweetheart. No one’s touching you… unless you want us to."

You scrunch up your face, disgusted and his grin widens just a little.

You lift your knife. “I don’t want trouble. I just need food.”

“I’d say knocking over our supplies in the middle of the night is kinda trouble,” the dark-haired one says. His hair is tied back, strands falling loose around his face, his grip on his weapon steady. “Who are you?”

You swallow thickly. It’s been so long since anyone’s asked you that. Your voice is hoarse. “Just someone trying to survive.”

The white-haired one takes a lazy step forward, hands raised in mock surrender.

“Chill, Suguru. She’s not here to kill us,” he says, and then turns back to you. “You got a name, mystery girl?”

You eye him warily. “…Why do you care?”

He grins. “Because mine’s Gojo Satoru. And this grumpy one is Suguru.”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell her our names, dumbass.”

But Gojo—Satoru, apparently—just shrugs, looking far too amused for someone who just woke up to a stranger trying to rob him.

Your fingers tighten on your knife. But something about him… those eyes… that voice…

“You really gonna stab the guy who might be your best chance at staying alive?” he asks, cocking his head. “Come sit. Eat. Or run. Up to you.”

Your stomach growls loudly.

Satoru grins wider. “That’s what I thought.”

You slowly lower your knife, but don’t put it away—not yet. Your eyes stay locked on them as you inch closer to the fire. The warmth should be a comfort, but your muscles are still taut, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

Satoru sprawls back onto a log like he’s done this a hundred times. He’s still smiling—lazy, smug, like he’s enjoying this little show. Suguru doesn’t relax. He stays seated, but his eyes follow your every move, knife still held tight in his hand.

You kneel beside the fire, close enough to reach the food, far enough to lunge away if you need to. There’s a dented pot with some kind of stew, still warm, and a few pieces of bread wrapped in cloth.

“Help yourself,” Satoru says, waving a hand like he’s offering a royal feast. “We even warmed it up for you.”

You shoot him a glare but reach out cautiously, taking just a little. You sniff the stew first. Watch them.

“Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned,” Suguru says dryly.

“That’s what someone who poisoned it would say,” you mutter, tearing off a bite of bread.

Satoru snorts. “She’s got a mouth on her. I like her.”

You ignore that. Instead, you eat slowly, eyes flicking between them. They don’t move. Suguru keeps watch. Satoru lounges like this is the most interesting thing that’s happened all week.

“How long have you two been out here?” you ask finally.

“Long enough,” Suguru says, tone clipped.

"Too long," Satoru says, tossing a pebble into the fire like this is just another lazy night for him. "We move around, but we've got a base. Old prison, about twenty miles from here. You?"

You don’t answer right away.

“Alone,” you say after a beat. “I’ve been alone.”

The fire crackles between you.

Suguru’s gaze softens—just for a second. But Satoru’s smile stays.

“Well,” he says, stretching out his long legs, “you’re not alone anymore.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’m not staying.”

“Didn’t say you had to.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But something tells me you might not leave either.”

He’s not threatening. He’s just… certain.

You’re crouched by the fire, still tense, still not entirely trusting, when Satoru leans back on his hands, head tilted.

“You should come with us,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “You’ll be safer.”

Your eyes flick to Suguru—he doesn’t hide the way his jaw clenches.

“She could be a liability,” Suguru mutters. “You don’t know her.”

“No,” Satoru agrees, grinning at you. “But I like her.”

Suguru sighs, deep and disapproving, but you see it—that soft flicker in his eyes that means he’s already given in.

Satoru turns back to you. “We’re heading out at first light. If you’re in, pack whatever you’ve got.”

You nod, hesitant. But, maybe… maybe this is the start of something.

-

A gentle nudge to your shoulder. Then a voice, light and annoyingly cheerful.

“Wake up, sleepyhead. Big day today.”

You blink awake to Satoru crouching beside you, white hair a wild halo against the rising sun. He grins.

“You snore, by the way.”

“I do not.”

“You do. It was cute.”

You groan, dragging a hand over your face. “Remind me why I agreed to come with you again?”

“Because I’m charming,” he beams. “Now come on. We've got a long way to go—and Suguru’s already in a mood.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe he wouldn’t be if you stopped talking.”

“Ohhh, savage!” he clutches his chest, stumbling back like you just stabbed him. “You wound me, stranger.”

You roll your eyes and sling your bag over your shoulder. “Not a stranger anymore, remember? You practically adopted me last night.”

Satoru grins, falling into step beside you. “True. You’re my problem now.”

“Joy,” you mutter, but your lips twitch despite yourself.

Suguru’s already waiting up ahead, arms crossed, brow arched like he’s already tired of this nonsense. “You two done flirting or should I keep walking?”

You open your mouth to protest, but Satoru gets there first.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Suguru.”

“I will leave you in the woods,” Suguru replies flatly.

“You’d miss me in an hour.”

“You wish.”

You stifle a laugh and glance between the two. “Are you always like this?”

Satoru flashes you a grin. “Buckle up, sweetheart. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

-

The trek through the forest had been relatively quiet—birds rustled above, trees whispering overhead, and Satoru talking your ear off. But midway through the journey, something shifts.

Suguru’s head tilts first, eyes narrowing at the faint crunch in the distance. Not a squirrel. Not a rabbit.

You hear it next.

Low. Guttural.

A hiss.

Then another.

They come from the trees. Slow at first—one stumbles into view, then two, then more. Rotting limbs. Glazed-over eyes. That sickening gurgle of hunger.

“Aw, shit,” Satoru grins like it’s a party. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

Suguru already has his blade drawn, calm as ever. “Don’t play around, Satoru.”

“No promises.” He rolls his shoulders, cracking his neck with a sharp tilt. “Time to impress the new girl.”

The first zombie lunges—and Satoru moves. A blur of motion, too fast to follow. The undead’s head twists unnaturally before it even hits the ground.

Suguru moves more fluidly—clean, precise slashes. No theatrics. Just deadly efficiency. His blade slices through two more, not even a drop of blood on him.

But they just keep coming.

Your heart pounds in your ears. Adrenaline surges. You’d been careful to avoid confrontation all these years, but this is different. You're not alone anymore. And you won’t be dead weight.

You draw your blade—sharpened scrap metal turned makeshift machete—and steady your breath.

One charges. You duck, spin, and drive the blade clean through its skull. Another reaches for you. You kick it back hard, burying your weapon in its chest before pulling it free with a grunt.

Satoru whistles low. “Well damn.”

“Focus,” Suguru mutters, cutting another down.

You move together now, three separate forces of destruction.

Satoru’s grinning like a madman, whirling and laughing with every kill. “You seeing this? She’s got bite!”

Suguru flicks blood off his blade. “You could take a lesson from her.”

Zombies litter the ground within minutes. The forest falls silent again—except for your panting breaths.

Satoru walks over, brushing blood off his cheek. “Well, that was fun. You good?”

You nod, chest still heaving. “Peachy.”

“Okay, badass,” he says with a grin, then nudges your shoulder playfully. “I take it back. You’re not just some lost little stray. You’ve got some claws.”

Suguru simply gives you a once-over, silent approval in his gaze.

You sheath your blade. “Told you I could handle myself.”

Satoru grins wider. “Yeah, and it was hot.”

-

The journey's been long, your legs aching from the endless trek, your guard never once lowered—not even with Satoru’s ridiculous jokes or Suguru’s unnervingly sharp eyes on you.

But when the trees begin to thin and the rusted silhouette of a massive abandoned prison looms ahead—walls towering, fences lined with jagged barbed wire, and lookout towers standing tall like watchful sentinels—you feel something you haven't in years:

Hope.

Gojo stretches lazily, like the walk didn’t faze him at all. "Home sweet hellhole," he grins. "Bet you weren’t expecting this kind of palace."

Suguru doesn’t say much, just gestures for you to follow. The guards on the watchtower whistle low when they see the trio approaching, and the gates creak open. Inside, the prison yard is alive—people bustling, fires burning in steel barrels, children laughing (actual children), and survivors moving with purpose.

You're stunned. You didn’t think this kind of order still existed.

A kid runs up to Gojo. “Satoru! You’re back!”

“Obviously,” he winks, tossing his jacket at the kid. “Miss me?”

You stare, wide-eyed.

“You’re like… respected here?”

“Terrifying, isn’t it?” Gojo deadpans. “Stick with me, newbie. I’ll show you the ropes. Maybe even let you survive.”

Suguru glances back, quiet for a moment. “Don’t get too comfortable. It’s safe, but it’s not paradise.”

Gojo leans closer to you as you're led through the gates.

“Don’t worry. If anything tries to eat you—aside from me—I’ll kill it.”

Your face burns and he just smirks like he’s got you all figured out.

“Aww, don’t get all shy, now. Where’d all that bite from earlier go?” he teases, voice low and entirely too smug.

You shove him with a scowl, cheeks still flaming. “Shut up, lecher.”

He stumbles back with a dramatic gasp, hand clutching his chest. “Lecher? Ouch. You wound me, sweetheart.”

Suguru sighs ahead of you. “Ignore him. He gets like this when he’s not punched often enough.”

Gojo just throws an arm around your shoulders, unbothered and still grinning. “Admit it, you missed human interaction.”

You glare up at him. “I missed silence.”

“Too bad,” he chirps, “you’re stuck with me now.”

You follow Gojo through the looming gates of the old prison turned fortress, the creak of rusted metal echoing off cold concrete walls. The place is… intimidating, but secure. High fences, makeshift watchtowers, guards with weapons patrolling like hawks. Survivors glance your way—curious, cautious—but no one approaches just yet.

“Well,” Gojo grins, throwing his arms out dramatically, “welcome to paradise, sweetheart.”

You shoot him a glare, but before you can answer, a voice calls out.

“Don’t call new recruits that, Gojo.”

A tall woman leans against the infirmary doorway, cigarette dangling between her fingers, lab coat stained with faded blood. She looks you up and down, then flicks ash to the ground with a sigh.

“Ieiri Shoko. I’m the doctor over here,” she says. “You look like hell.”

“…Thanks?”

“She means ‘you’ll fit right in,’” Gojo says brightly, nudging your shoulder. “She’s got a warm heart under all that… nicotine.”

Before you can respond, another figure approaches—sharp, calculating, blond hair swept neatly back and a stern face that reads no nonsense allowed.

“Nanami Kento,” he introduces himself. “I hope you know how to follow rules.”

You stiffen slightly. “Depends on the rules.”

Gojo chuckles. “Play nice, Nanamin. She’s new.”

“And she’ll stay alive longer if she learns structure.”

You barely have time to absorb that before someone barrels into the conversation like a human golden retriever.

“Gojo-sensei! You’re back!”

A pink-haired young man skids to a stop beside you, eyes wide with excitement. “Whoa—new person?! Hi! I’m Itadori Yuji!”

You blink, overwhelmed by the sudden burst of energy.

“Yuji,” Gojo sighs fondly. “Tone it down a little, yeah? She’s been through it.”

Yuji’s smile softens. “Right, sorry. Still—welcome. You hungry? We’ve got canned peaches! They’re not that bad if you hold your breath.”

A scoff cuts through the chaos.

“That’s how you welcome someone? ‘Peaches if you hold your breath’?”

You turn to see a girl with sharp eyes, short auburn hair, and a confident stance stroll up like she owns the place.

“Kugisaki Nobara,” she says, hand on her hip. “Don’t let the dumb smiles fool you—Yuji’s annoying, but he’s not dangerous. Usually.”

Yuji pouts. “Rude.”

And last, from the shadows near the barracks, a low voice.

“Don’t overwhelm her.”

A tall boy steps forward, dark hair, brooding expression. Cold eyes meet yours briefly before shifting away like he’s already bored of this interaction.

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

You blink. “Nice to meet you… all.”

“You’ll get used to the chaos,” Nobara says. “Eventually.”

Gojo’s grin widens, like a proud dad watching his weird little family.

“See? Told you you’d like it here.”

You’re not sure yet. But for the first time in years, you’re not alone.

-

The base is a repurposed prison, all concrete walls and rusted bars, but the way Gojo walks its halls, it might as well be a palace.

“Welcome to paradise,” he grins, pushing open a barred door that creaks like it’s complaining. “Don’t let the charming décor fool you. The rats love it here.”

You roll your eyes but follow him in. He gestures with a dramatic sweep of his arm. “Your very own cell—er, suite.”

The room is small, but clean. A bed shoved into one corner, a patched-up mattress, and even a chipped mirror on the wall. You nod, impressed despite yourself.

He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I gave you the one with a window. You can thank me later.”

You smirk and step back out into the hallway. “Trying to impress me, Gojo?”

“Oh, absolutely. I’m a peacock in the apocalypse, baby.”

You laugh under your breath and follow him down a narrow hall. There’s a dip in the concrete, a crack in the floor you don’t notice until your boot catches—your heart jumps as you pitch forward, but Gojo’s arms are immediately around you.

Strong. Steady. Warm.

“Careful now,” he murmurs, voice all silk and smugness. “You fell for me already?”

You’re pressed against his chest, your breath caught in your throat, face heating up. He doesn’t move right away—his hands settle on your waist, casual and intimate in a way that makes your stomach flip.

You shove him off with a flustered glare. “Shut up, lecher.”

He grins, wide and infuriating. “That’s more like it.”

The rest of the tour is quieter. You pass rooms where others sleep, the mess hall, the infirmary where Shoko’s set up shop. You even glimpse Yuji hauling supplies with Nobara snapping at him in the distance.

But then Gojo stops in front of a heavy iron door—no windows, no markings. His face changes. The joking fades.

“Whatever you do,” he says, voice low, “don’t go into the commissary. Not alone. Not ever.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness.

“Why?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. His blue eyes sharpen beneath his snowy lashes.

“Because even monsters like us keep our secrets somewhere,” he says softly. “And some doors are locked for a reason.”

You stare at him, heart knocking against your ribs.

Gojo Satoru, unshakable, untouchable… looking haunted?

Your skin prickles.

But he flashes you that lazy grin again, like nothing happened. “Now come on. You haven’t seen the courtyard. Yuji likes to wrestle people out there—it’s horrible. You’ll love it.”

And just like that, the moment passes… but the warning stays.

-

The rooftop’s quiet late at night.

The chaos of the base fades into a hush, just the distant hum of wind brushing over cracked cement and rusted fences. You lie back against the cool surface, arms behind your head, eyes fixed on the sky above. For once, it’s clear. A spatter of stars gleam like glass shards across a velvet sky.

You let yourself breathe.

No infected. No screaming. No fear.

Just the stars.

Footsteps approach—light, familiar, cocky.

“I knew you were a stargazer,” Gojo says, easing himself down beside you with a dramatic sigh. “You’ve got that dreamy, melancholic look. So poetic.”

You don’t look at him. “You’ve got that annoying, uninvited energy. So parasitic.”

He barks out a laugh. “Ow. You wound me, sweetheart.”

A beat passes. Then another.

You can feel him watching you, but for once, he doesn’t speak.

And somehow, that’s more unsettling.

“…You alright?” you ask, finally glancing his way.

He’s leaning back on his elbows, white hair messy from the wind, blue eyes locked on the stars—but they’re distant. Quiet. A far cry from their usual teasing glint.

“I’m heading out tomorrow,” he says casually. “Scouting mission. Few days tops.”

You blink. “Oh.”

Something flickers in your chest. It shouldn’t. Not like this.

“Oh,” you repeat, softer. “Right.”

A part of you wants to ask why he’s going. Another part wants to pretend it doesn’t matter. You settle for neither, chewing your lip, trying to ignore the weight settling in your gut.

Satoru glances at you then, his smirk lazy but his voice just a touch softer.

“Try not to miss me, yeah?”

You scoff. “I’ll throw a party the second you leave.”

“That’s what they all say,” he murmurs, leaning just a little closer. “Then they realize how boring life is without me.”

His smile is all mischief—but behind it, there’s something warmer. Something real.

And for once… you don’t fire back. You just look at him.

Maybe you’ll miss him a little. Just a little.

-

You don’t expect his absence to linger. But it does.

You feel it in the small silences—the way the mess hall feels quieter without his dumb jokes echoing through it, how sparring sessions feel colder without him barging in with some smug, offhanded comment about your form.

At night, you find yourself back on the rooftop. The stars are still there, but they don’t sparkle like they used to. It’s stupid, you tell yourself, because what kind of person starts depending on a man like that?

He’s loud. He’s infuriating. He teases you relentlessly.

But… he saw you. When you thought no one ever would again.

Shoko notices the way you’ve been spacing out more. She doesn’t say anything until the third night.

“You okay?”

You nod. Too quickly. “Fine.”

She squints at you. “You’re not fine. You’re moping.”

“I’m not moping.”

She clicks her tongue. “Acting like someone’s girlfriend.”

You nearly knock your cup over. “I’m not—!”

But you don’t finish that sentence. Because the words feel too close to something you’ve been avoiding.

You try to bury it—tell yourself it’s just concern. You’re just… grateful. It’s not like that. You don’t miss his stupid smirk or the way he always stands too close just to fluster you. You don’t care about how his hair always looks so damn soft, or how his voice drops a little when he’s serious with you.

You don’t.

You don’t.

Then the whispers start.

“No signal from the scouting team.”

“They were supposed to be back by now.”

A cold chill snakes down your spine.

You start going to the gate more. Just to check. You pretend it’s coincidence.

It’s not.

You catch yourself gripping the straps of your bag harder than usual. You’ve never hated waiting so much in your life.

Until one evening—

The gates finally creak open.

Your breath catches in your throat as the guards call out a name. Several figures walk through the archway, dust and blood clinging to their clothes.

And there he is.

White hair, blue eyes. One sleeve ripped off, a gash on his collarbone, dried blood staining his neck—but he’s alive.

“Satoru,” you whisper, already walking forward.

His eyes find yours instantly. That grin pulls at his lips like it never left.

“Aww, did you miss me?”

You don’t answer. You just hit his shoulder. “Idiot.”

But then your hands linger, and before you can stop yourself, you’re pulling him into a tight hug.

He stiffens, just for a second. Then his arms slide around you, strong and warm.

“Try not to cry too hard,” he mutters, voice light—but there’s something tight beneath it.

“I hate you,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Sure you do,” he chuckles, and when you pull back, his smile softens.

You don’t know what this feeling is. Or maybe you do. You just don’t want to name it yet.

But you know this: You’re glad he came back.

And for now, that’s enough.

-

You wander the halls of the prison alone, the hum of fluorescent lights above your head flickering inconsistently. Satoru had taken the kids out back for training, and with nothing to do and no one to bother you, you figured you’d finally explore the rest of the base.

The place was massive—too massive. Each cell block looked like the next, corridors looping endlessly into each other until your curiosity outweighs your sense of direction. One door, rusted and slightly ajar, catches your eye.

You should’ve turned around.

You push it open.

Inside is dark, dusty. Shelves line the walls, broken crates and old rations tossed everywhere. You wander deeper, hesitant but unaware. That is…until it hits.

The smell.

Rotting flesh, stagnant air, the thick, unmistakable stench of death.

And then—movement.

Shuffling. A low groan. Shadows twitch. A hand smacks against a shelf and knocks it over with a crash.

They're here.

Your eyes snap wide and panic sets in instantly. There are so many.

You run.

You shove a metal shelf in their path, throw an old stool, anything you can get your hands on to slow them down. Your breaths are shallow, desperate. But just as you near the exit—

Your ankle gives out.

A sick snap, searing pain, and you crash to the floor with a cry. You scramble backward, pressing yourself against the wall, using your good leg to kick anything that comes close.

This is it. This is it.

You squeeze your eyes shut, heart pounding.

Gunshots.

The sound like thunder crashing right next to your ear.

You blink up, barely processing the white blur tearing through the undead like paper.

“I told you not to go in here!” he shouts, voice slicing through the chaos.

“Satoru—!”

The zombies turn just in time for Satoru to drive his fist into the nearest one’s chest, cracking bone and sending it flying back into the others like bowling pins.

“Seriously?” he growls, stepping in front of you, his broad back shielding your crumpled form. “I leave you alone for five minutes.”

One lunges from the side. Gojo ducks effortlessly, grabs it by the throat, and slams it into the ground so hard its skull splits open on impact. Another claws at his shoulder, but he just grabs its wrist, twists, and kicks out its knee in one brutal motion. It collapses, and he doesn’t even look as he drives a sharp piece of wood through its head.

And then—you're in his arms. Just like that.

Lifted effortlessly, pressed against his chest as he strides out of the hellhole.

You cling to him, trembling.

“I didn’t know it was the commissary,” you whisper between sobs. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know—I just—God, I’m so sorry, Gojo, I—”

His voice is low, firm, but gentle. “Hey. Breathe. I’ve got you.”

You look up at him, lip quivering. “I—I made you worry…”

“Yeah, you did,” he says with a wry little smirk, but his eyes are too soft, too relieved to match it. “Don’t ever do that again, got it?”

You nod.

“Good,” he murmurs, brushing a sweaty strand of hair from your face. “Because if I lost you... I’d have to kill the rest of the world just for pissing me off.”

Your breath hitches.

You stare up at him, heart pounding, face flushed from more than just the sprint for your life.

“W-What kind of psycho logic is that?” you mutter, trying to deflect, your voice barely steady.

Satoru smirks down at you, still holding you effortlessly in his arms like you weigh nothing. “C’mon, don’t act so surprised. I’m dramatic, haven’t you noticed?”

“You’re insane,” you whisper, trying not to combust under his gaze.

“And you’re blushing,” he points out smugly, nose nearly brushing yours. “Kinda cute, actually.”

You twist in his hold, hiding your face against his shoulder. “Shut up,” you mumble, voice muffled.

He laughs softly, the sound vibrating through your chest. “Can’t. Teasing you is the only thing keeping me sane these days.”

You can feel the tension slipping away, replaced by something heavier, warmer. He lowers you gently onto a nearby bench just outside the danger zone, kneeling before you like it’s second nature, hands skimming your calves as he examines your ankle again.

When he looks up this time, his expression is different. Less playful. More raw.

“I meant it, you know,” he says quietly. “You scared the hell out of me in there.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know,” he cuts in, hand brushing yours. “But next time, brat, wait for me. No solo adventures.”

Your lips twitch. “You’re calling me a brat now?”

“Borrowing the title. Think I earned it after saving your ass.”

You huff a laugh, cheeks still warm. “…Thanks.”

His grin softens. “Anytime.”

And just like that, you both sit there—his fingers still wrapped gently around your hand, his thumb rubbing absent circles over your knuckles—as the adrenaline fades and something else takes its place. Something quieter. Heavier. Charged.

-

Satoru insists on carrying you the whole way to the infirmary, ignoring your every protest.

“This is unnecessary,” you mutter, burying your face in his shoulder to avoid every curious glance.

“You twisted your ankle and almost got mauled. Humor me,” he says, smug but gentle, like the two can coexist in him with ease.

He kicks open the infirmary door with his foot.

“Delivery for one idiot who wandered into a no-go zone,” he calls out casually.

Shoko looks up from her desk, raising a brow at the sight of you both. “Well, well. If it isn’t the base’s golden boy and his damsel in distress.”

“I wasn’t distressed,” you blurt out instantly, wiggling in Gojo’s hold.

“Oh?” she hums, amused. “You sure? Because I could’ve sworn I heard ‘Gojo! Help!’ from all the way down the hall.”

You splutter. “That’s not— I mean—”

“Loudly,” she adds with a pointed smirk.

Satoru just laughs and sets you down on one of the cots, his hand lingering a little longer than necessary on your back before stepping aside.

“She’s fine. Just the ankle,” he says. “But maybe check if she sprained anything else. She fell pretty hard.”

Shoko moves closer, completely ignoring the medical part for now, because she’s too focused on watching the both of you squirm.

“Ohhh,” she teases, eyes sparkling. “Look at the two of you. Cute. Almost like a couple.”

You and Satoru freeze at the exact same time.

“Nope!”

“Not a couple!”

“Definitely not!”

You shoot each other a panicked glance and then immediately look away, flustered messes in stereo.

Shoko snorts. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

You glare. “Can we just focus on my ankle now?”

“Fine, fine,” she drawls, clearly enjoying herself. “Just sayin’. Wouldn’t be the worst match. You get saved, he gets to play hero. Very fairytale.”

“I hate all of this,” you mutter under your breath, while Satoru just smiles to himself, unbothered but definitely pleased.

When Shoko starts wrapping your ankle, he leans against the wall with his arms crossed, watching.

And you swear you see it—that tiny, knowing glint in his eyes.

Like he wants her to say it again.

Because maybe, just maybe… he doesn’t mind the idea.

-

It’s later that night when there’s a knock at your door. You’ve barely had time to settle in, still awkwardly hobbling around on one foot with your bandaged ankle.

“Who is it?” you call.

“It’s your favorite,” comes the unmistakable voice from the other side.

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the tiny smile tugging at your lips. “Didn’t know Nanami suddenly got chatty.”

A muffled chuckle. “Ha. Hilarious. Open up.”

You limp to the door and unlock it. Satoru is standing there, a little disheveled, hands full.

“Brought you dinner,” he says casually, holding out a tray with two mismatched bowls, steam still curling from the soup. “Figured you might be tired of Shoko’s painkillers and snark.”

You blink, caught off guard. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he says dramatically, stepping in without being invited. “That’s what makes me so noble.”

You laugh despite yourself, and he grins like that was the goal all along. He sets the tray down on your little desk, then gestures toward your bed.

“Come on, sit. Can’t have you falling over again. One near-death experience per day is my limit.”

You sit, trying not to look too charmed when he settles next to you—close, but not too close—just enough for your knees to brush.

“I still feel terrible about earlier,” you say after a moment, poking at the edge of your bowl. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You didn’t worry me,” he says too quickly, too nonchalantly.

You glance up. “Liar.”

He sighs and leans back on his hands, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Fine. Maybe I panicked a little. Sue me.”

A silence lingers, not uncomfortable. Just… warm.

Then, softer: “Don’t do that again, okay?”

You look at him, really look at him—the shadows under his eyes, the slight dip in his brow, the way his voice softens when it’s just you and him.

And something in your chest stirs. Something that’s been creeping in, slow and steady, ever since he offered you food by a fire that first night.

You nod. “I won’t.”

He glances over, catches your gaze—and doesn’t look away this time.

There’s something unspoken passing between you. Familiar. Intense. Safe.

“You’re really something, y’know that?” he murmurs.

You raise a brow. “That supposed to be a compliment?”

He smirks. “Depends. You gonna fall harder for me if it is?”

You flush instantly. “Satoru—”

He laughs and nudges your bowl toward you. “Eat before it gets cold, princess.”

You grumble under your breath but dig in.

And Satoru?

He watches you with that same lopsided grin, heart doing something stupid in his chest.

Because yeah—maybe you fell.

But maybe he’s been falling, too.

-

It’s past midnight when you stir.

The pain in your ankle has dulled to a throb, but it isn’t what wakes you. It’s… something else. A presence. Warm. Close.

You blink against the low glow of the hallway light seeping under your door, and when your eyes adjust—

You see him.

Satoru.

Slouched in the chair by your bed, long legs awkwardly folded, head tipped to the side, snowy hair falling across his face in soft, messy tufts. His mouth is slightly parted, breathing slow and even. His arms are crossed, like he hadn’t meant to fall asleep there.

Like he was just keeping watch.

Just in case.

Your heart does a little flip.

You shift quietly, trying not to make a sound. But even with all your care, the mattress creaks—barely. His eyes snap open immediately, hand twitching toward a weapon that isn’t there. Pure instinct.

Then he sees you. And relaxes.

“Oh,” he breathes, voice gravelly with sleep. “You’re awake.”

You sit up slowly. “Were you… here all night?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Not all night. Just since… y’know. Evening.”

You squint at him. “Satoru.”

He sighs. “Fine. Yeah. All night.”

You stare at him. “Why?”

He shrugs, suddenly sheepish. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t wander off again and get yourself eaten.”

You frown. “You should’ve slept in your room.”

He smirks. “What, and miss out on babysitting you?”

You chuck a pillow at him.

He catches it easily and grins. But when he sees you holding his gaze, that grin softens.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he admits, quieter now.

Something gentle settles in your chest. You pull your blanket up and scoot slightly to the side.

“…There’s space. If you’re tired.”

He blinks at you. “Are you asking me to cuddle, orrrr…”

You glare. “I’m offering you a more comfortable sleeping arrangement.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

He slides in beside you carefully, so carefully, like you’ll break if he jostles you too much. And then you feel the warmth of him next to you, his presence steady and solid and safe.

“…This okay?” he murmurs, his voice a whisper in the dark.

You nod.

And slowly, slowly, you feel his fingers brush yours under the blanket. He doesn't hold your hand—not yet. Just touches.

Testing the waters.

You don’t pull away.

And in the silence that follows, you hear his breathing even out again.

But yours?

Yours is all over the place.

-

Morning sunlight filters through the barred window, casting soft stripes across your face.

You're warm. So warm.

Your cheek is pressed against something solid. Something that rises and falls gently beneath you. And there’s a hand resting at the small of your back, pulling you closer, keeping you there.

Your heart skips.

Your eyes blink open—and there he is.

Gojo Satoru. Asleep. Face relaxed and serene, messy white hair haloed in gold light. His other arm is curled under your pillow, supporting your head like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And you're lying on top of him.

Your breath catches in your throat.

You should move. You need to move.

But just as you're about to untangle yourself—

Click.

The door creaks open.

You freeze.

“Oh my god,” comes Shoko’s voice, casual, amused, and way too smug. “Well, well—what do we have here?”

You nearly leap out of bed, scrambling to sit up—only for your body to protest painfully, and you wince with a hiss.

Satoru wakes with a start, blinking up at Shoko in confusion before slowly realizing the position you're in.

“Oh,” he says blankly. “Morning, doc.”

You swat his shoulder. “Say something useful?!”

Shoko just leans against the doorway, arms crossed, grinning like she’s discovered the world’s juiciest secret. “No no, don’t let me interrupt. I was just checking on the patient, but clearly, she’s in very good hands.”

You’re burning. “It’s not what it looks like!”

Shoko raises a brow. “Oh, so you weren’t cuddled up like two lovebirds all night? Should I tell Nanami you’ve finally found someone willing to put up with your nonsense, Satoru?”

He stretches lazily and pulls the blanket back over himself with a smirk. “Actually, yeah. Tell him. Maybe then he’ll finally stop lecturing me about responsibility.”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. “I’m never going to live this down.”

Shoko chuckles, walking away. “Nope. I’m telling everyone.”

The door clicks shut behind her.

Silence.

You glare at Satoru through your fingers. “This is your fault.”

He grins. “You offered me a spot on the bed, your majesty.”

You shove a pillow at him. He catches it—again.

And then he smiles, soft and teasing, voice still a little raspy from sleep.

“...So. Want me to sleep over again tonight?”

“Get out.”

-

The first few days are rough.

You try to walk without limping. Try to reach for things on your own. Try not to feel like a burden.

But then there’s him.

You wake up to warm food at your bedside, Satoru leaning against the doorframe with a smug grin. “Brought you breakfast in bed, sweetheart. Don’t get used to it—I’m not always this nice.”

He very much is.

He offers his arm without asking when you need support. Doesn’t mention it when you wince or grit your teeth. Just lets you lean on him, like you’ve always belonged there.

You try to carry something heavy across the hall—he appears out of nowhere, snatching it from your hands. “Tsk. You trying to die or what?”

You try to help in the kitchen. He catches you wobbling and swoops in with a hand around your waist. “Whoa there, Bambi. What happened to ‘taking it easy’?”

You try to sneak off to explore the base again. He corners you in the hallway with a look that says absolutely not. “You’re still healing, brat. Unless you want me to carry you everywhere again?”

Cue your entire face combusting.

He’s annoying. Cocky. Ridiculously persistent.

But…

He adjusts your blanket when you’re asleep on the couch. Tucks a water bottle by your side without saying anything. Teaches you how to balance properly on one foot so your ankle can recover without straining the other.

And at night, when you think everyone’s asleep, you catch him checking on you—quietly, carefully. Making sure you’re okay.

You pretend not to notice.

But your heart notices. It notices everything.

-

You stand in the middle of your room, shifting your weight onto your healed ankle, then back again. No pain. No tightness. Just a deep breath and the quiet realization:

You’re better. Finally.

The door creaks open without warning—because Satoru never knocks—and in he strolls with his usual swagger and two mugs in hand. “Morning, sweetheart. Brought you—"

He stops in his tracks.

You’re standing. Not limping. Not clutching the edge of the bed for balance.

Just… standing.

He squints, slowly lowering one mug. “...Why aren’t you in bed?”

You raise a brow. “Because I’m not dying?”

“Oh no. Absolutely not.” He sets the mugs down and points a very offended finger at you. “You don’t just get to get better without warning me. I was emotionally invested in this arc.”

You laugh. “Sorry to ruin your Florence Nightingale fantasy.”

“Ruin? Excuse you, I was thriving. Who’s gonna let me spoon-feed you now?”

You roll your eyes, limping toward him just to mess with him. “I could pretend, if it makes you feel better.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He walks over before you can say anything else—his hands hover, cautious at first, then one slides to your waist. “You really okay?”

You nod. “I’m good. Really.”

Satoru lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Then he grins. “Alright. Guess that means I can stop being your personal nurse and go back to being your favorite nuisance.”

You’re smiling. He’s back to teasing. But there’s a softness in his eyes that lingers a little too long, a thumb that brushes your hip before falling away.

He missed taking care of you.

And maybe, just maybe, you kind of miss being taken care of.

-

You’re jogging laps around the edge of the prison yard, the early morning chill nipping at your cheeks. It’s peaceful—quiet enough that your footsteps and the rhythmic beat of your breath are the only sounds you hear.

Until a familiar voice breaks through the silence.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite brat, back in action.”

You slow down, a smirk tugging at your lips as you turn toward the voice—and promptly choke on air.

Satoru.

Stretching.

Shirtless.

His snowy hair tousled from whatever ungodly workout he’s been doing, sweat gleaming on the hard lines of his chest and abs like the universe conspired to craft a Renaissance painting just to spite you. His sweats hang low on his hips, revealing that infuriating V-line that should not be legal in a post-apocalyptic society.

You blink. Once. Twice.

He grins, catching the way your eyes are very not subtly stuck on him.

“Like what you see?”

You scowl, instantly turning your gaze to a very fascinating patch of dirt on the ground. “Please. I’ve seen better.”

“Mmhm.” He takes a deliberate step forward, arms crossing over his annoyingly perfect chest. “Name one.”

“...”

“That’s what I thought.”

You huff and start jogging again, forcing your eyes to stay forward. But then he jogs up beside you—shirtless and smug, of course—and easily matches your pace.

“You sure you’re fully healed? What if you, I dunno… trip and fall again?” he says, tone mockingly sweet. “Need me to catch you, princess?”

“I’d rather faceplant into a zombie.”

He laughs, low and lazy. “I dunno, that sounds painful. Better to land on something soft. Like me.”

You glare at him, cheeks burning. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” he nudges you playfully with his elbow, “you’re still jogging next to me. Who’s really winning here?”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth crawling up your neck. But deep down, you know.

He’s definitely winning.

-

After the jog, Satoru insists you “cool down” with some light sparring. You roll your eyes, but follow him to the training mats anyway. He’s already bouncing on his heels when you step in front of him, still shirtless, still smug.

“You sure you’re up for this?” he teases. “Wouldn’t want to break you again.”

“I’m more worried about bruising your ego,” you shoot back, taking your stance.

He whistles low. “Feisty. I like it.”

The sparring begins—light jabs, easy dodges. You’re nimble, focused, but he is... effortless. Every time you swipe at him, he ducks with a grin. When you go in for a kick, he sidesteps and lets out an exaggerated yawn.

“You done yet, sweetheart?” he asks, still dancing around you. “At this rate, I could do this blindfolded.”

“Shut up and hold still!” you lunge at him again—this time faster, bolder—but he grabs your wrist mid-swing and spins you around so fast the world tilts. Before you know it—

You’re pinned.

Back hits the wall. His hand holds your wrists above your head, other arm braced beside you. His body is dangerously close, breath fanning your cheek. His tone shifts, deeper. Rougher.

“You keep mouthing off like that,” he murmurs, eyes gleaming, “I might start thinking you want me to put you in your place.”

Your breath catches. “I—”

“Hmm?” he leans in, lips ghosting your jaw. “No witty comeback now?”

You try to move, but his grip tightens just slightly. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind you that this isn’t a game anymore.

“I could kiss you right now,” he whispers, “and there’s nothing you could do about it.”

Your heart hammers in your chest. “You wouldn’t.”

He smiles. Slow. Dangerous.

“Wanna bet?”

Your breathing is shallow, heat rising to your cheeks. You’re acutely aware of how close he is, the way his chest brushes against yours with every breath, the sharp glint in his eye, the smirk that’s far too smug for your sanity.

And then—

His lips graze your neck. Barely there. A soft brush of heat against your skin. You flinch—not out of fear, but from the jolt that shoots down your spine. Goosebumps bloom instantly. His breath tickles your skin.

“Sensitive,” he hums, lips ghosting up toward your jaw, “...cute.”

“Satoru—” you whisper, voice barely audible.

He pulls back just enough to look at you. His gaze drops to your lips, heavy and unblinking. And he leans in, slower this time, like he wants you to feel the anticipation. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat—

And then—

“AM I INTERRUPTING SOMETHING?”

You both jolt like you’ve been electrocuted.

Satoru spins around with a groan, still caging you against the wall. “Shoko. Seriously?”

She stands a few feet away, arms crossed, one brow cocked and a wicked smirk playing at her lips. “Wow. Could cut the tension with a scalpel. Should I come back later or just pass you a condom now?”

“Shoko,” you squeak, face on fire, squirming to escape Gojo’s hold.

He lets you go reluctantly, chuckling under his breath. “You wish you caught the good part.”

“I did catch the part where your face was buried in her neck like a starving vampire,” Shoko deadpans.

You bury your face in your hands.

Satoru just laughs. “You jealous?”

“Please. I'd rather not watch my coworkers dry hump in public,” she says, already turning on her heel. “Anyway. You two lovebirds done? I need one of you to help with supplies.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gojo waves her off. Then he glances back at you, still all flushed and flustered, and leans down one last time to whisper in your ear:

“To be continued, princess.”

And just like that, he strolls off like nothing happened.

You're left against the wall, heart pounding, neck tingling, completely and utterly undone.

-

It’s quiet for once.

Most of the clan is out on a supply run or patrolling the perimeter. You’d offered to stay behind, helping Shoko reorganize her medical supplies before wandering off with a basket of laundry—warm clothes folded under your arm as you pace the empty corridors of the prison, barefoot, relaxed.

You finally set the basket down in the communal quarters, humming under your breath while sorting through what belongs to who. It’s… peaceful. The late afternoon sun slants in through the high windows, bathing everything in warm light.

Until—

“Picking up where we left off?”

You jolt, nearly dropping the shirt in your hands.

Gojo.

Leaning against the doorframe, casual as ever, sleeves pushed up, hair a bit messy like he just woke from a nap. His eyes are glinting beneath the lazy droop of his lashes, and that smirk—that godforsaken smirk—is unmistakable.

He saunters in before you can get a word in.

“Geez, you sneak up on people like a damn ghost,” you mumble, cheeks already burning as you turn back to the laundry.

“Aw, don’t be shy now,” he teases, coming closer. “You weren’t so shy when I had you pinned against the wall.”

You stiffen. “You got interrupted. Big difference.”

“Oh? So you wanted me to kiss you?”

You glare at him over your shoulder, but he’s already behind you, arms slipping around your waist—loosely at first, giving you a chance to push him away.

You don’t.

“I was thinking about you,” he murmurs against your ear. “All damn day. Thought I’d come see how you were holding up without me.”

“I was fine,” you huff, but it’s so breathless it betrays you instantly.

He chuckles. “That right?”

His hands glide up your sides, slow and sure, fingertips teasing the hem of your shirt. “C’mon, sweetheart. Just admit it—you missed me.”

You turn in his arms, glaring—but it’s weak at best. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“Maybe,” he leans in, forehead brushing yours, voice dropping, “but I still remember how fast your heart was beating last time.”

You swallow.

And this time? There’s no Shoko to walk in. No patrols due back. No reason to stop.

You hesitate for a beat.

And then you pull him in by the collar.

The kiss is feral. All teeth and tongue and breathless gasps. Weeks—months—of tension snapping all at once. His hands find your waist, gripping tight as he hoists you up like you weigh nothing.

“Fuck—” he groans against your lips. “You’ve been killing me, y’know that?”

You wrap your legs around his waist and tug him closer. “Good.”

He pulls back, grinning. “Oh, you wanna play it like that?”

You don’t get a chance to answer before he’s kissing down your jaw, your neck, dragging that maddening tongue of his down your collarbone. His hands are everywhere—palming your hips, your thighs, sliding under your shirt like he owns you.

Which, at this point, maybe he does.

“Tell me to stop,” he pants, hovering over your lips again. “Tell me now, and I will.”

You look him dead in the eyes, tug his shirt over his head, and whisper:

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

Your back hits the nearest wall with a muffled gasp, Satoru’s mouth already on yours, hungry and hot. His hands roam your body like he’s memorizing it with touch alone, fingers tugging at fabric with a frustrated groan.

“Off,” he growls into the kiss, already pulling your shirt over your head like it's offended him. He sets you down to pull your pants down along with your panties. And the moment you’re bare before him, he stands back, breath catching in his throat. His eyes—icy blue and blown wide with lust—roam your figure, landing on your chest like he’s just been given the meaning of life.

“…Can I motorboat your tits?”

You blink.

You laugh, startled and breathless. “Are you—are you serious right now?”

His lips curve into a wolfish grin, and he’s already surging forward to kiss you again. “Maybe next time,” he mumbles between kisses. “I don’t think I can wait to taste you now.”

You arch a brow, teasing, breath catching when he trails his mouth down your jaw. “Next time?”

He chuckles, low and dark. “You think I’m letting you off the hook after this?” His hands slide down your waist, thumbs stroking your hips. “Nah, sweetheart. I’m gonna ruin you.”

Then he sinks to his knees.

The grin fades into something hungrier, more reverent as he kisses the inside of your thigh, dragging his teeth gently across soft skin. “Spread ‘em for me,” he says, voice a whisper but firm. And when you do, he groans like he’s just tasted something forbidden.

You cry out the second his tongue touches you, hands flying to grip his hair. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t want to. It’s slow, torturous—his pace deliberate as he works you open, devouring like a man starved. His moans vibrate against your skin, and when your legs tremble, he just pins them open wider, groaning, “That’s it… let me hear you, baby.”

Your back arches as Satoru licks another slow, devastating stripe up your core, tongue curling at your entrance before he moves to suck gently on your clit. Your fingers tighten in his hair, thighs instinctively trying to close around his head—but his arms loop under your knees, spreading you wider, holding you open like he owns you.

“You're not going anywhere,” he mutters, eyes flicking up, glazed over with lust and something dangerous. “Told you. I’m gonna ruin you.”

Then he’s back at it—slower this time, tongue flattening against you, then circling, dragging soft groans out of you as the tension coils tight in your belly. He eats you out like he’s trying to memorize the taste of you, savoring every movement, every moan he draws. He alternates between deep, dragging strokes and sharp, teasing flicks, lips closing around your clit to suck just hard enough to make your breath hitch.

You cry out, hips bucking up into his mouth, and he growls—low and throaty—as if turned on by how wrecked you already are.

"Fuck—so sweet," he groans, voice muffled against you. “Could stay down here all night.”

And he means it. He shifts slightly, tongue plunging into you now, slow and shallow, nose nudging your clit as he drinks in every sound you make like it fuels him. Every little tremble, every whimper—he devours it.

He doesn’t stop. Not when you start trembling, not when you whine his name in warning. He keeps going, lips slick and relentless, until—

Your vision whites out. Your body tightens, back bowing, mouth falling open on a silent scream as you fall over the edge, pleasure shattering through you like a storm.

Only then does he pull back, lips and chin glistening. He breathes hard, eyes dark and blown, grinning like he just won a war.

“That’s the sound I wanted to hear.”

He stands up again to pick you up, carrying you to the nearby table, settling you on it, completely bare under the low light, legs parted slightly, chest heaving. You’re flushed, trembling—not from fear, but anticipation. Nerves. Heat. It’s all crashing together in your head, and he sees it.

His hands move to his waistband, fingers curling beneath the fabric of his pants. He tugs them down with practiced ease, freeing himself—and your breath catches.

Your eyes drift down instinctively, and your stomach tightens at the sight of him. He’s big. Thick, flushed, already hard and aching.

Your pulse stutters, nerves flickering to the surface. “Oh…”

“Hey,” he says gently, fingers brushing your cheek. “You okay?”

You hesitate, biting your lip. “It’s just… I’ve never done this before.”

Satoru freezes for a moment. His expression doesn’t shift much—but his eyes, bright and blue, soften in an instant.

“…You haven’t?” he asks quietly, tone a stark contrast to the sinful smirk he wore earlier. You shake your head.

He exhales slowly, like he’s grounding himself. Then he leans in and kisses you—slow, patient, loving.

“Well, fuck,” he murmurs against your lips. “Now I really have to behave.”

You blink up at him. “You? Behave?”

He chuckles, brushing his thumb over your lower lip. “Okay, maybe not completely. But I’ll go slow. Make it good for you. You trust me, right?”

You nod.

“Good.” His voice drops a little. “Then let me take care of you, yeah?”

He’s gentle—so gentle it almost breaks you. His lips move from your mouth to your jaw, down your neck, to your chest. He pauses there, kissing over your breasts, fingers caressing your sides as though you might disappear if he’s not careful.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes. “Gonna remember this forever.”

When he finally lines himself up, he doesn’t rush. He keeps kissing you, whispering into your skin.

“Breathe with me,” he says. “Nice and easy, baby. Just relax.”

The stretch burns, but his voice never leaves you. His hands never stop moving—stroking your sides, brushing your hair from your face, thumbing away the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs. “So tight, fuck—squeezing me like you were made for me.”

Your breath catches, eyes fluttering shut.

“Look at me,” he says softly, “I wanna see your face.”

You meet his eyes—blown wide with emotion, affection, reverence. And that’s when he starts to move. Slowly, so slowly you can feel everything. Every drag, every pull.

“Feels good?” he asks, and when you nod, he smiles like you’ve just handed him the universe.

“You’re perfect,” he groans, picking up pace just a little. “Takin’ me so well, sweetheart. My pretty girl, lettin’ me be her first.”

You moan—part embarrassment, part bliss—and he kisses the sound from your mouth.

“Can’t believe no one’s touched you like this before,” he mutters against your skin. “But I’m glad. Glad it’s me. Glad I get to show you.”

He starts rolling his hips deeper, each thrust slow and purposeful, coaxing pleasure out of you bit by bit.

“Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

You’re already gasping—your body burning, overstimulated from the build-up and the way he moves inside you. Every drag of him is a stretch, a delicious ache, and you’re trying so hard to keep up, to breathe, to hold yourself together—but it’s too much.

And then it hits.

Your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave—louder, sharper, more intense than the last—and your body tightens instinctively, your walls fluttering around him like they don’t want to let him go.

“Fuck—” Satoru’s voice breaks, a guttural groan tumbling from his throat as he stills, trembling above you. “You’re gonna ruin me, baby…”

His grip tightens on your waist, jaw clenched as he tries to hold back—but you’re squeezing him so tight, so perfect, and his restraint shatters.

“You’re killin’ me,” he grits out, starting to move again—deeper, slower, more intentional—but there’s an edge of desperation now. His forehead presses to yours, breath ragged. “Feels so good—fuck, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

You shake your head, nails digging into his shoulders. “Don’t stop,” you whimper, barely able to form the words. “Please…”

He kisses you hard—like he can’t help himself, like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. “You’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart. So, so good…”

“‘Toru-” you whimper.

That breaks him.

He groans, slamming into you harder, mouth finding your neck as he nips and kisses down to your collarbone. “Fuck. Say it again.”

You whimper again, brain hazy. “‘Toru…”

He kisses you slow then, deeper. Rough pace never faltering, but his hands gentler now—one wrapping around your waist, the other brushing the hair from your face.

“Mine,” he murmurs against your lips. “You’re mine now, yeah?”

You nod desperately, legs locking around his hips. “Yours.”

“Damn right,” he grits, driving into you harder, chasing both your highs with everything he has.

The overstimulation has tears stinging your eyes, your legs trembling, voice catching on every moan. And when that next orgasm builds too fast, too hard—it snaps through you like a live wire. Your body arches off the table, clamping down around him again—

—and Satoru snaps.

“Shit—take it, baby. Let me fill you up, yeah? Gonna make you mine, fuck, you already are—look at you...” he chokes out, thrusting deep one last time before he comes, spilling into you with a long, breathless groan. His arms wrap around you as if to anchor himself, holding you so close, like he needs to feel every inch of you, inside and out.

“Look at you,” he murmurs between pants, pressing kisses across your face. “Takin’ me so well… You’re mine now, yeah? All mine.”

You nod, dazed and boneless, wrapped in his warmth.

And he stays like that, inside you, forehead resting against yours as he murmurs soft, reverent praises—like this wasn’t just your first time.

Like it was everything.

Your body’s still trembling—nerves fried, skin flushed, heart thudding against your chest as if it’s trying to burst free. You’re barely aware of anything except the warm, strong arms pulling you into a careful embrace, the kiss he presses to your temple like it’s the most sacred thing he could ever do.

“Hey…” Satoru murmurs, voice all honey and rasp, rough around the edges but impossibly gentle. “You okay?”

You nod, chest rising and falling against his, cheeks still hot, but there’s a smile on your lips.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Just… wow.”

He laughs softly, the sound low and breathy as his fingers brush along your spine in lazy, soothing strokes. “You were incredible,” he says, and he means it. Every word. “So good for me. So perfect.”

Your face scrunches with a flustered noise, burying it into his shoulder. “Stop…”

“Never,” he grins, nosing into your hair. “You don’t get to be all pretty and sweet and make those sounds and expect me to stay quiet about it.”

You groan. “Satoru—”

“Shhh.” 

His palm rests on your back as he holds you close, thumb drawing lazy circles. You can still feel the dull, pleasant ache of him inside you, the heat he left behind. His breath is warm against your cheek. Safe. Comforting.

“You did so good, baby,” he murmurs again, pressing a kiss just beneath your jaw. “First time and you still managed to rock my fucking world.”

Your heart stutters. “Wasn’t just the sex,” you say quietly.

He stills for half a second—and then he smiles, soft and genuine.

“I know,” he whispers.

You’re still breathless, body flushed and boneless in his arms when Satoru gathers you close, lips pressed gently to your temple. The air between you is warm, quiet save for the distant hum of life around the base. He shifts a little, glancing down at the table beneath you both, and you catch that flicker in his eyes—guilt, soft and creeping.

“I should’ve…” he starts, voice low, almost sheepish. “Shit, I should’ve taken you somewhere better. A bed, a blanket, something that wasn’t a hardass table. It was your first time and I just—” He pauses, brows pinching like the regret’s eating at him now. “I got selfish.”

You lift your hand to his cheek, thumb brushing over the corner of his mouth. “Hey,” you whisper, leaning in until your lips ghost over his, shutting him up with a kiss so soft, so full of emotion it makes his heart stutter.

When you pull back, your smile is small but sure. “It was more than okay. Because it was with you.”

Satoru blinks, breath caught in his throat. And for once, the man with a mouth like a wildfire doesn’t have anything to say.

Until he pulls you tighter into his chest and mutters, “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You just grin into his skin. “Guess we’ll go down together then.”

Then silence. Not awkward, not tense—just full of warmth. Full of everything. His arms around you. Your fingers laced with his.

You don’t say it. Not yet. But maybe one day soon.

For now, the way he holds you like you’re something to be cherished?

It’s more than enough.

author's note. finally have time to post consistently! last month or two were BUSY so couldn't do much </3 i'm proud of how this one turned out ^^ also, shoko is such a baddie i love her

please do not steal, modify, or translate my work.

[satoruhour]

i can’t stop thinking about riding satoru while he’s laying down his hands behind his head and watching us with a smug face ahhhhhhh i’m pulling my hair out

a/n: i immediately turn poetic whenever i write for gojo idk why guys 💀 + combining with another request where anon sent this in and said satoru core, so real! / tagging @shotorus @hannzai @arminsumi @jabamin @hyomagiri <3

warnings: dom!satoru, fem!reader, i lay the praise on thick here n i could be projecting but idk, pet names, humping, clit stimulation, overstimulation, riding, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, creampie / breeding kink, brief consensual filming, n*sfw under the cut

you think that you’re not so bad on the stamina spectrum — you could hold your own against a special grade pretty easily even after getting beaten down in unexpected attacks, training with your students have kept you on your toes and alert despite your years, and satoru . .

oh, being with satoru has your stamina improving without even you knowing it. whether it’s pushing him away during tickle fights, smacking him hard on the back when he forgets about his students’ missions yet again, or letting yourself submit completely to him in the bedroom, it’s never just one round with gojo. the man was naturally fit and had his reversed cursed technique that he was basically invincible.

you? not so much, always struggling to catch up if your boyfriend wasn’t doing any of the work.

“s-satoru . . please, i need h-help,” you whine out, so so sensitive from the endless foreplay your lover had put you through for teasing him with raunchy photos. it wasn’t your fault he was gone for so long, sent to the rural parts of japan to exorcise a dormant curse — the signal was so terrible there that gojo couldn’t even text his pretty baby whom he missed so much, finally reaching his wits’ end and teleporting to a cell tower only to be met with your body stretched into suggestive poses with very little left to the imagination.

gojo swears he’s never seen beauty like yours before, like a breath of fresh air from the first time he’s got you in his arms to the photos he’s received on that cell tower. a mission has never been finished that quickly before; a teleport and one swipe of his hand, another teleport.

“you don’t want your lovely boyfriend to enjoy his time?” gojo pouts, hands spanning your ass and squeezing at the fat there. you moan at the sensation coupled with the drag of your clit along his thigh — his cock wasn’t even in you and you were already reduced to moans. “after you draped your body in baby blue and you already want to get to fucking?”

gojo has a little lilt in his voice that pisses you off because you know he wants to fuck you bad. you remember how riled up he was when he returned home three hours before, chest heaving and sweaty. you can feel the throb of his cock under you and the little noticeable shaky breaths, but making you beg, making you needy for him is his favourite pastime.

“f-fuck you, ’toru!” you stutter out, thighs burning from grinding so long into his leg that you don’t even know whether you’re cumming or not; all you know is the addicting feeling each time he tenses his thigh for you. satoru laughs, wandering hands leaving trails of fire along your skin as you gasp and grasp at his shoulders. he lets you, squeezing encouragingly at your waist and helping you just a little. a small smile spreads across his face when he feels your cunt twitch at his beautiful laugh, entrance clenching around nothing.

“soon. you’ll need to be patient,” gojo chastises, eyes flitting between watching your connected parts of smeared arousal and your expression of closed eyes and a pretty ‘o’  that catches the moonlight, “look at ’er,  just so wettt . .” the sorcerer whistles at the mess you’re leaving on his leg, juices flowing so sinfully that it leaves a clear sheen of reflectiveness to it. 

“c’mon baby, c’mon baby, you can cum for me, can’t you?” gojo taunts and you feel the need to answer him even when your own body is asking you to rest.

“mhmh, ’toru—” you hump his thigh harder, tugging his body closer as you settle for the most friction you can get against your puffy clit. because you’re leaking so much, the glide of your pussy is so smooth and sticky along his skin, chasing your high more and more until your words are choked out in a high-pitched moan — “satoru, satoru, s-shit . .!”

gojo coos at your unravelling, bumping his leg into your cunt repeatedly as you ride out your orgasm and by now he is hard that it hurts almost, but he’s focused on your pleasure. he licks his lips like a pervert when you tremble at the orgasm, carrying your leg over his just to see strings of your cum stick to your core and his skin, laying a light slap to your pussy just to hear the slickness.

“oi!” you call out, out of breath as you swat his hand away as he giggles and have to take a breather against your boyfriend’s chest, burying your face into his neck. but for as long as satoru have been teasing you, he hasn’t been getting any action and is desperate to just be in you, fishing his cock out from his underwear. it’s pretty as always, curved with an angry red tip that is aching to stretch you out and a vein that runs along the side of it; it slaps into your inner thigh as he pumps it with a low groan.

“can ya ride me, sweetness?” you let out a small sound of disagreement, littering kisses along his skin in hopes that he’d indulge you, but with his free hand, he’s tapping his tip against your welcoming cunt, emphasising the sheer amount of cum you were dripping with. below you, his toned chest vibrates with the moans at the warmth of your cunt, of your 

“’m tired . .” you trail off, before a quiet gasp leaves  you when satoru first pushes past your entrance. and though you’ve taken him so many times, his girth still surprises you to some extent, digging your forehead further into his collarbone as he pushes into your gummy walls. bit by bit, your boyfriend bottoms out in you but does anything but move and of course, it’s a ploy by the one and only. “you’re not going to fucking move, aren’t you?”

gojo makes a terrible ding! sound and snaps his fingers, prompting a glare out of you until the needy words come tumbling out of his mouth, “i want to see you ride me, baby, please.”

“weren’t you the one coming home like a sex-crazed mani— ah!” he knows he still holds control over you when he snaps his hips into you and you freeze up with a whine of his name, nails digging into the sheets and skin. “that’s cheating.” gojo simply hums, placing a kiss on your lips that you don’t reciprocate before the room falls into silence: he leans back, putting both hands behind his head before nodding at you — and because he knows it’s him, he carries the gesture with confidence with no break in his character of just how you were so goddamn tight and warm.

he grits his teeth before trying to relax, “d’you think my pretty girl can give me a show?”

obedient and defiant, you moan softly with a glower, “s-sure i can— lazyass.”

gojo knows you mean it with affection, letting out a small laugh before the moment is interrupted by the first lift of your hips. from where he is, he can see how your folds stretch for his thick cock and the lewdness of your expression, until you start a pace and the little pants that leave your lips hypnotise gojo into a trance. he watches your dazed features with a smug smile as you bounce on him, ass meeting his pelvis in loud slapping noises.

“satoru— s’full, s’big—!” mewling out, your hands switch from abs to chest to headboard, finding anything to anchor yourself to as you ride his cock that nudges all the right spots. each descent is bound to send you reeling, drool dripping from the side of your mouth with how you seem to get more and more intoxicated on his length — even when your muscles start to ache in similar places like earlier and gojo seems to break from the little humps from his hips. 

“s’too much, h-hurts, ’toru . .” you whine with a pout to your voice, eyes lining with tears at the overwhelming pleasure, groping around desperately at the hand that indulges you briefly. it travels up your body, around your nape and back around, playing with your lips—

“you can do it, baby, ridin’ me so well . . s-shiiit,” gojo praises with a trembling rasp, toying with your bottom lip before grabbing your face and forcing you to look down, “you’re making me feel so, so good, sweetheart—” squeezing his eyes shut for a brief moment and then back again to compose himself, “—look at how well you take my cock.” the obscene words drags even more moans from you coupled with the sight of your pussy stuffed full of your boyfriend’s pretty dick, so filled to the brim with so much cum seeping from your cunt.

your wonderment is what prompts satoru to tug you forward into a sloppy kiss, leaning back even more as you yelp into his mouth and your beauty is just what sends gojo into a frenzy. the smugness is gone, the teasing nature is gone, just grasping at pockets of air to moan out together as gojo takes the reins and slams his hips into yours. the sheer force of it sends you jerking more into his embrace, sharing a loud, pornographic moan before a multitude of profanities fall from gojo’s mouth.

“you’re just too— fuuck! too perfect, princess,” satoru whimpers, arms wrapped tightly around your middle with pelvis thrusting up into you that if it wasn’t for gojo’s strong arms, your body would be flailing everywhere -— he nibbles at the skin near your shoulder, trying his best to see where the base of his cock meets your ass in noisy, wet pap! pap! pap!’s, “pussy moulded just ta fit my fat cock, yea?”

satoru’s skin heats up when he feels you nod, babbles of “yes”’s and his name jumbled up together in drunken incoherence as he continues to impale you on his shaft. your thighs start to squeeze around his, your own hips grinding down to meet his halfway as you feel your high approaching.

“a-ain’t ya a good girl, hm?” the praise just keeps coming, whispered into your ear with hot breath fanning it and sending you in a delirious state, but gojo’s rhythmic thrust slows down as he grinds his cock into you and you tense up at the feeling of his tip against your g-spot. you jaw falls open in a silent moan, body limping into his once he abuses tha spot repeatedly in deep, deep thrusts, punctuating it in between every word—

“good. fucking. girl,” your boyfriend sounds out into your ear, a grunt between hisses at the way you clench around him, the way your pussy seems to flutter, “you. thrust. like. thrust. that. thrust. huh? thrust.”

“y—yeah, like it, love it, satoru—” you’re too far gone with these deeper thrusts before he switches back and knows you’re about to cum the hardest with the way your toes curl and uncurl. just one sneaky hand to your clit is enough to send you into mantras of his name and confessions — “love it, love you, loveyou, loveyou, ’toru” — body jerking at the overstimulation.

“that’s it . .” gojo says shakily even after he continues to ram into you, “attagirl, thaat’s my good girl.” by now, you’re reduced to nothing but a fucktoy for your boyfriend who chases his own high, proven easy by the sensation of your tight walls and the slickness of your pussy, rutting like a dog before he shoots his semen deep into you. even gojo is speechless, hips jolting into your cum-filled pussy with the need to breed: seed nestled deep into you while his weeping tip spurts out the last bits of his cum.

but gojo doesn’t pull out just yet, flipping the two of you easily and grabbing his long forgotten phone by the nightstand. gently with a smile, he pats your cheek, wakening you from your orgasm-induced slip into unconsciousness.

“baby, gonna take a vid, you okay?” you mutter out a small yes, cute little whimpers escaping your mouth when gojo slowly pulls out. “wanna spread your pretty pussy for me?” your hands obey before you even know it once you hear the start of the camera, fingers soaked with your combined juices as you spread your folds and he watches, entranced at the way your cunt pushes out his cum — and the way it seeps out of you, good lord — alongside the cockdrunk smile on your face.

satoru points the phone at your cunt, and marvels with a grin, “looks like she’s begging for more of my cum, yeah?”

[rawjutsu]

chapter four.

pairing: snow leopard hybrid!gojo x bunny hybrid!femreader

keep up here

a/n: this ones a big one so buckle up!

the first two days of your heat are torture, and you don’t stay long in satoru’s room.

the first couple of hours were spent with your face buried in his pillows and sheets, grinding your bare pussy against his comforter until the scent of him and the friction of the fabric soaked into your skin like sin. you were feral, mind fogged and drooling, leaving the soft material wet and sticky as orgasm after orgasm rolled over you. you didn’t even recognize your own voice anymore—just muffled sobs and gasps of his name.

it was like your body had been hijacked.

like something bigger than you had taken over, reducing you to a panting, dripping mess desperate for your snow leopard roommate.

visions flickered behind your eyelids like a reel on repeat. satoru, snarling as he pinned your hips down with brute strength, his thick body pressing you into the mattress as he fucked the breath out of you.

or worse—him teasing you. cruel and smiling, leaning close to whisper filth in your twitching ears while his fingers just barely grazed your inner thighs. dragging it out. watching your sweet little tail tremble as you begged for him to do something—anything.

would he slam into you with a growl, stretch you open all at once, or sink in slow, dragging every inch out like torture?

you sobbed, practically feeling the veins on his cock. you could see it. taste it. your cunt clenched around nothing, throbbing with need.

there was no way he wasn’t packing something unreal. you knew it. there was too much muscle, too much confidence, too much raw, snowy predator in him.

you lost count of your orgasms somewhere around the fourth. the next thing you remembered was blinking awake hours later in the dying amber light of sunset, thighs sticky and sore.

day one was already over.

and all you’d done was rub yourself raw across satoru’s bed.

embarrassment crept up your flushed neck. you whimpered, forcing your trembling limbs to peel off the sheets. you stumbled into the shower, cranked the dial to cold, and stood there shivering, trying to scrub away the heat.

it helped—for about twenty minutes.

you guzzled four bottles of water straight from the fridge, pressing the plastic against your cheeks as your body simmered with renewed arousal.

but the fire in your belly was back, and this time it was worse.

you didn’t go back to his room.

you limped to your own and tried to be strong.

day two was hell.

you were armed with every toy in your arsenal. vibrators, dildos, lube (thought you really didn't need any). but nothing filled the aching void the way his room had. the way his scent had.

the vibrator felt like a whisper. the dildo, no matter how deep, was too soft. too plastic. too fake. your body wanted real weight. real heat. real cum.

you cried through another pitiful orgasm, shaking on your sheets, a silicone toy buried in your dripping hole as your arm went numb from overuse. your thighs trembled from repeatedly bouncing yourself onto it, slick squelching in the air.

you didn’t want to do the work. you didn’t want to move.

you wanted to be split open and held down.

you wanted someone to grip your hips so tight the bruises stayed for weeks, and fuck their cum so deep inside you it ached.

that was the cruelest part of this all.

every hybrid’s instinct during their cycle was the same: breed or be bred. and it was worse for rabbit hybrids. your biology screamed for it. marking. claiming. ownership.

that milky, messy release was more than physical. it was symbolic.

you cried out as another aftershock hit you, your plush bunny tail twitching against your sheets. you could barely keep your thighs apart. could barely stay conscious.

would satoru cum in slow, burning strokes that stretched your insides, or in fast, desperate spurts while gripping your ears tight?

you wanted to know. you needed to know.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

across the hall, satoru was losing his damn mind.

he paced nanami’s apartment like a caged animal, ears flicking, tail puffed and swinging erratically behind him. his breathing was uneven, and he looked wrecked.

“she had my shirt,” he muttered for the sixth time.

nanami sighed, not bothering to look up from the book he’d been pretending to read. “it’s natural for someone going through their heat to need comfort from the opposite sex. scent helps.”

“but that’s, like... for people who are together, right?” satoru was near spiraling now. “you don’t just... grab someone’s clothes unless—unless it means something!”

“you two live together,” nanami said flatly. “i doubt her brain is worried about the semantics of your relationship right now.”

satoru stared at the wall like it owed him answers. his pants were getting tight.

he hated this.

he hated pretending to be normal in someone else’s apartment while you were across the hall, dripping and needy and probably still crying.

he couldn’t jerk off here—nanami would smell it. and he’d die of shame. and probably get murdered.

and work? forget it. he couldn’t even think straight, much less function while on the clock.

so the only time he allowed himself any relief was in sketchy public restrooms scattered across the city.

and every time, he felt a little like a creep.

but your scent haunted him.

nanami said he couldn’t smell it, but satoru could. the sweet, dizzying tang of your arousal had soaked into his clothes, lingered in his brain.

he knew you’d been in his room. he knew what you were doing.

were you in one of his shirts, thighs spread, fingers deep inside yourself while you bit down on his pillow?

fuck, what would his bed smell like when he finally went back?

half of him prayed you’d washed the sheets.

the other half hoped they still reeked of your slick.

because if they did—if they still smelled like you—he didn’t know what he’d do.

satoru groaned into his bowl of ice cream like it personally wronged him, sexually and emotionally frustrated and one dumb thought away from exploding. this was the longest he’d gone without seeing you.

he missed your sarcasm. the way your cute nose would twitch when you were annoyed with him. the way you’d pull at your ears when you vented about work like you didn’t even notice you were doing it. god, he missed you. you. not just your body—though that too, holy shit—but your voice, your presence, your everything.

“do you have feelings for her?” nanami asked flatly, prepping yakitori like it was just another wednesday.

“what—no, obviously not,” satoru shot back instantly. too fast. “it’s just…”

he trailed off. couldn’t finish it. couldn’t lie, but couldn’t say what was actually going on in his chest, either. at first, it might’ve been a heat thing. biological. animal shit. but now?

now he wasn’t so sure it was just that.

nanami didn’t let up either.

“she has options, you know. could’ve spent her heat with someone else. a friend. someone from home.”

satoru’s fur bristled before he could stop it. his pupils narrowed into slits.

“why the fuck would she do that?” he growled, something guttural and angry rising from his gut like smoke.

nanami raised an eyebrow and turned back to the stove, like that answer told him everything.

satoru didn’t want to think about it. he tried not to think about it. but that was impossible when you were literally across the goddamn hall. a few hundred feet away. going through that. in your bed. with no one.

the thought made him shift uncomfortably, cock twitching. he eyed his phone.

still nothing from you. it had been days. no texts. no passive aggressive post-it notes. no sarcastic remarks about the way he chews gum too loud. just—silence.

you had to be nearing the end of your heat, right? probably. maybe. hopefully.

his thumb hovered over your contact before he could stop himself. he didn’t think. he just typed:

u ok?

and then he stared at the screen like it owed him something. a read receipt. a reply. a goddamn sign from the universe. something ugly and anxious crawled up his throat, tightening.

a minute passed. then two.

nothing.

he scowled and shoved his chair back, dragging himself toward the sink to wash his bowl—

ding!

his head snapped around like he’d been shot.

no.

just that. one word.

his heart skipped. no? no, you weren’t okay? no, you were still in heat? no, you didn’t want to be alone?

or maybe the apartment was on fire. could be. wouldn’t be the first time.

but it didn’t matter. because you texted back. and if you were in trouble—or if you weren’t and just wanted to talk—he had to check. had to see you.

he was already halfway to the front door when nanami appeared in his path, arms crossed and expression tight.

“where are you going?”

“geez, mom, what—can’t i step outside for some air?” satoru chuckled a little too nervously.

nanami sighed. “i don’t care where you go, gojo. but if you’re heading back to your apartment, i feel responsible to tell you it’s probably not a good idea.”

satoru rolled his eyes and patted nanami on the shoulder as he breezed past him. “relax, man. i’m just making sure there’s not, like, a gas leak or something.”

nanami made a face, but let him go.

the second satoru opened his front door, he froze.

the scent.

it hit him like a truck, thick and wet in the air, so heavy it curled around his tongue and lungs like smoke. his knees almost buckled. he slapped a hand over his nose and mouth, but it was too late. his entire body responded.

you weren’t even in the same room, and his cock was already hardening against the front of his pants, needy and twitching.

he stumbled forward, teeth clenched. it was dizzying, intoxicating, like walking through a cloud of your need. the primal part of his brain roared awake, hungry and starving and possessive.

your scent was everywhere.

he moved carefully down the hall toward your room, covering his face and trying—failing—to keep it together. he raised a hand and knocked.

nothing.

even with his hybrid hearing, he couldn’t catch a single sound.

he was just about to turn and check his room—fuck, if you were in his bed he might actually lose it—when—

creeaak.

your door cracked open.

and there you were.

eyes hazy. lips swollen. skin flushed and glowing. your entire body radiating heat and scent and desperation.

you looked like a fucking mess.

“s-satoru? what’re you doing here?” you whispered, your eyes were widened looking up at him. 

“i-you said you werent okay,” satoru whispered back, his voice a little muffled behind his hand.

you shifted from one foot to another, nails curling into your palms.

“i—i didn’t think you’d actually come,” you said quietly.

satoru let out a shaky breath, still covering half his face with his hand like that might somehow protect him. like he wasn’t already drowning in the scent of you—sweet and sharp, like something ripe and forbidden. his body ached in places he didn’t want to admit.

“yeah, well… you said you weren’t okay,” he mumbled. “i couldn’t just ignore that.”

you blinked, lashes fluttering. you looked exhausted. there were beads of sweat along your temples, your lips parted as if breathing was hard. you weren’t wearing much—just a tank top clinging damply to your skin and a pair of sleep shorts that might as well have been nonexistent. satoru swallowed hard and looked away.

“i’m fine,” you said, weakly. “or—i will be. you should go.”

“right,” he said, stepping back a little. “yeah. you’re right. i shouldn’t be here.”

but neither of you moved.

seconds ticked by, both of you breathing too hard, the air between you heavy and humid. your scent was practically curling around his limbs, dragging him deeper into some dangerous headspace.

“unless…” you said suddenly, barely audible. “unless you—have, like, any tips? for getting through this. i’ve tried everything.”

satoru let out a sharp laugh, rubbing a hand down his face. “yeah, well, trust me, if i had a tip that didn’t involve either of us doing something really fucking stupid, i would’ve given it to you already.”

you made a frustrated noise and slumped back against the doorframe, head thudding against the wood.

“it’s so bad this time, satoru,” you whispered. “i think my body’s reacting to yours. to you being gone.”

that word—yours—sent a jolt through him. he clenched his jaw.

“you’re not wrong,” he muttered. “it’s been hell on my end too.”

you both stood there for a moment, like you were toeing the edge of something you couldn’t walk back from.

“i can’t fuck you,” he said suddenly, voice tight. “you know that, right? i can’t—not when you’re like this.”

your eyes snapped up to his, wide and glassy. “i didn’t ask you to.”

“i know,” he said. “i’m just saying it so i don’t forget.”

another pause.

“but,” he added, stepping forward just slightly, “i could maybe… help. a little. not—not with sex. but something.”

you blinked up at him, heat crackling in the air between you.

“what kind of help?”

he swallowed.

“let me use my mouth,” he said, and it came out as more of a plea than he meant it to. “just that. you can stop me whenever. but i can smell how much it hurts. you’re not gonna make it through another day like this.”

you hesitated—really hesitated. you were stubborn. you didn’t like feeling weak. you didn’t want to give in.

but your thighs were trembling uncontrollably, and your eyes were full of desperation, and his scent—his stupidly delicious, snow-wild scent—was making you lightheaded. he smelled like something you wanted to bury your nose into. like comfort and cold air and mate.

“okay,” you whispered. “just… just your mouth.”

“just my mouth,” he agreed, voice pitched low, careful, like approaching a skittish animal. “that’s it.”

his fingers brushed your waist.

your breath caught—then broke—and your whole body seized, thighs trembling. it was like the dam shattered. a pulse of molten heat shot through your core, raw and punishing, and your knees buckled like your bones just gave up. you sobbed into his shirt, your whole body seizing up just from the feel of him—solid, warm, here. finally, finally—

he caught you before you hit the floor, arms wrapping tight around your waist and chest like he knew you were about to fall apart.

his purr rumbled in his chest, a low, steady hum meant to soothe—but it only cracked you open more. like your heat recognized him and screamed mine.

“let me help you, bun,” he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and shivery. the sound of his voice alone made your spine arch.

you nodded, dazed. desperate.

satoru eased you onto the bed, your sheets already tangled and soaked with your scent. your body twitched when he touched the mattress—like it knew what was coming. like it had been waiting for this.

he laid you back gently, but there was tension in every movement. urgency simmering under his skin. his tail twitched like a whip behind him, lashing sharp and fast.

he started slow—kissing down your thighs, dragging his nails over overheated skin. his nose twitched. the scent of your slick filled the room, thick and sharp and feral.

you couldn’t stop squirming. your legs shook even though he hadn’t even touched you where you needed it. your body was starving.

when he pulled your shorts down, his breath hitched audibly.

“fuck,” he breathed, eyes locked between your legs. “bunny, you’re soaking wet.”

he spread you wider, and slick dripped onto the mattress.

his pupils dilated—wide, round, blown black.

“is this because of me?” he asked, voice all rough edges, something wrecked leaking through.

you whimpered, arm thrown over your face, too embarrassed to look at him—but you nodded, trembling. “p-please, satoru…”

he didn’t wait.

he devoured.

his tongue dragged through your folds like he was starving. your back arched off the bed so hard it nearly snapped, your fingers flying into his hair, grabbing fistfuls, scratching behind his ears like you were trying to ground yourself in something.

but you couldn’t. you were already gone.

he growled low in his throat when your hips bucked against his face. it was possessive. primal. the sound of a man who liked being overwhelmed by you. his claws dug into the plush of your thighs to hold you open—keep you open—for him.

his lips latched onto your clit and sucked, groaning into you like it fed him.

you screamed, grabbing the sheets like they could help.

then—fuck—two of his fingers slid inside you and you lost it. your whole body bowed off the bed. the sound of your slick, the way it squelched loud and messy—it would’ve made you flush if you weren’t already delirious.

he curled his fingers just right, dragging along that devastating spongy spot inside you until your ears rang.

“shit—” you gasped, tugging his hair, eyes rolling back. “satoru—ohmygod—satoru—please—”

he didn’t answer. just kept licking, sucking, slurping, tongue lapping at you like you were his only damn source of water. your thighs clamped around his head—he shoved them back open.

“stay open,” he growled suddenly, voice rough. one of your legs had instinctively tried to close around his head, and he shoved it back down. “you want my help or not?”

“i am—i’m trying—” you sobbed, brain barely forming words. your body was burning, clenching around nothing, twitching every time his tongue circled your entrance like a cruel little tease.

he shoved his fingers in again—crooked them with surgical precision—and you wailed.

“yeah,” he muttered to himself, more animal than man. “this heat’s got you soaked, bunny. dripping.”

you couldn’t even care. your thighs were shaking, your hips jerking up like you were chasing something you didn’t know how to ask for.

“more,” you begged, voice cracked and wrecked. “please—i need more—i can’t—I need you, satoru—please—”

“what, this?” he murmured, flicking your clit with his tongue until you cried out. “or this?” another finger. another stretch. another wave of unbearable heat.

you clawed at his shoulders, panting, writhing beneath him. “you—i want you. your cock—i need you inside me—please, i’ve been waiting—i’ve needed it for days, i’m gonna die—”

he froze.

his head snapped up. his eyes locked onto yours—wild, glassy, dangerous.

his chest was rising in shallow, ragged bursts.

“you don’t get it,” he said, low and hoarse. “i fuck you right now, i’m not gonna stop.”

“then don’t,” you whispered, voice shaking. your thighs trembled against his arms. your whole body screamed yes.

he let out a strangled, half-wrecked laugh. something in him snapped.

but he didn’t give you what you wanted. not yet.

he went back down—hungry now, tongue ruthless, fingers fucking into you faster, harder, chasing your orgasm like he needed it.

“satoru—satoru—satoru—” it was all you could say. your name for him and his name for you. your whole world collapsed down to his mouth and your heat and this endless, endless ache.

his purr deepened.

he sealed his lips around your clit and sucked, hard, over and over, until your body clenched so tight around his fingers it forced your orgasm to tear out of you like a scream.

you didn’t even feel it build.

you just shattered.

you were crying again. couldn't stop.

your hips rocked, overstimulated and burning, but you didn’t push him away. you couldn’t. you needed it—needed him—like air. like life.

he pulled back only to lick you slower, gentler now—but still desperate, still not done.

and then, he pulled out—fingers gone, tongue gone, mouth lifting as his hand gripped his cock rough and fast.

“no—n-no, please—” you whined, hips stuttering forward, chasing his mouth.

he groaned low and long, and came hard—thick ropes splashing across your belly while you trembled underneath him, twitching and empty.

you blinked up at him, dazed and tear-streaked, chest heaving.

you lay there, ruined. limp. belly sticky. cunt clenching around nothing, still pulsing with need that wouldn’t fully die down. the heat was finally fading, but your body still ached for him.

satoru dropped beside you a moment later, arm flopped over his eyes, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon. neither of you spoke. the only sound in the room was the slow, exhausted drag of your breathing, and the echo of everything unsaid.

your hand was sticky. his thigh brushed yours. he didn’t move away.

silence.

then, after a long, long pause—barely above a whisper, like he regretted it halfway through asking:

“…uh. is my room clean?”

you blinked at the ceiling.

then laughed. breathless. hysterical. maybe on the verge of tears.

he groaned into his arm.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

[rawjutsu]

“thinking’s hard, huh, baby?”

pairing: gojo satoru x afab reader

cw: explicit piv, light face slapping, impact play, dumbification, degradation, choking, overstimulation, (its okay reader loves it)

“you left your phone in the fridge again.”

gojo’s voice cuts through the silence like silk wrapped around a knife—smooth and teasing, but there’s a wicked edge underneath it. he’s standing in the kitchen doorway, phone held up in one hand freezing cold, smirk already tugging at the corners of his mouth.

you blink at him from the couch, cheeks going warm. “...oh.” you giggle, shrinking a little into the throw pillow you’ve been cuddling. “i was putting the milk away, and i guess i got distracted…”

gojo tilts his head, crossing the room in lazy, catlike strides. his blindfold is around his neck today, white hair messy from wherever he’s been, and god he looks good—dangerously good. the kind of good that makes your brain short-circuit, which, in your defense, might be why you keep doing dumb little things like this.

he stops in front of you, nudging your chin up with his knuckle. “distracted, huh?” he echoes, voice dripping with amusement. “its okay, i know thinking’s hard for you baby.”

you pout. “hey—”

tap.

his hand comes up and gives your cheek the gentlest little pat. not a slap. just enough to make you blink and gasp a little, eyes wide and fluttery.

he brushes his thumb over the cheek he tapped, tracing the warmth that bloomed there. “you know what happens when you get all cute and dumb like that,” he murmurs. “makes me wanna see how many times i can slap it outta you.”

you squirm. “satoru—”

he’s on you before you can blink—pushing you back against the pillows, yanking his shirt up over your hips to find you bare underneath. you squeak, flustered. he groans.

“no panties?” his voice goes low. “you really are a dumb little slut today, huh?”

“i just forgot—”

slap.

the other cheek this time. a little harder. your head tips with it, your mouth opens in a gasp, and your eyes flutter like your brain just did a hard reboot.

“yeah. that’s more like it.” he leans in close, nose brushing yours. “don’t think. just let me ruin you.”

you don’t even remember how your clothes came off. one second you were blinking up at him all dazed and pouty, and the next your knees were pushed to your chest, ankles on his shoulders, and his cock was bullying its way inside you like it owns the place.

“fuck, look at you,” he growls, watching the way your mouth drops open. “all messy already. you’re so fucking dumb for it.”

he slams in deeper. you scream.

his hand’s around your throat in the next second, not tight but firm. controlling. the way he knows makes your head go floaty.

“you were talkin’ earlier,” he says, hips pistoning into you at a brutal pace. “where’s all that cute little babbling now?”

you can’t answer. you’re drooling. you’re crying. you’re gone.

slap. a little sharper across your cheek. you sob.

“ohhh, yeah. that’s what i like.” he laughs, ragged. “can’t even talk anymore. brain’s just gone. my perfect little toy.”

you claw at his forearms, gasping, choking on moans. he keeps going. keeps wrecking you.

“say thank you,” he pants, watching your tits bounce with every thrust. “c’mon, baby. say thank you for breaking your stupid little brain.”

you sob out a broken “thank you,” and that’s all it takes—he loses it.

he slams in to the hilt, keeps it there, grinds his hips and watches your whole body seize up when you cum so hard you nearly black out. your walls flutter around him, pulsing, milking him like your pussy knows it was made for him.

and he gives it to you. loud, messy, deep. he groans your name like a prayer while he paints your insides full.

you don’t know how long you lay there. you’re boneless, twitching, fucked-out. he’s kissing your cheeks, your lips, your forehead.

“good girl,” he murmurs, brushing hair off your face. “god, i love you so much. you’re so fucking perfect when you let me break you.”

a/n: gojo <333333333

[goatoru]

gojo. gojo!! ^^ gojo (๑>◡<๑) gojo (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ GOJOOOO!!!!!!!! gojo???!?!! gojo. GOJO ^^ gojo ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´- gojo :] GOJO!!!!!!!! gojo. gojo!! ^^ gojo ৻(≧ᗜ≦৻) gojoooo ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) GOJO!!!!!!!! gojo???!?!! gojo. gojo ^^ gojoヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ gojo :]

[rawjutsu]

chapter one.

pairing: snow leopard hybrid!gojo x bunny hybrid!femreader

keep up here

you’re settling into the apartment, realizing just how hard this is going to be. everything smells like him—warm, musky, deep—and it takes a couple rounds of chlorine, vinegar, and scent-neutralizing sprays to finally scrub out the worst of it from your bedroom at least.

satoru—whose name you learned when he gripped your hand like he was shaking hands with a bunny plushie and not an actual person—watched from the doorway with a smirk.

"it’s a small place. bet it’ll reek of me again by the end of the week."

you glare at him weakly. there’s not much you can say. without this apartment, you'd be homeless. plus… he doesn’t seem that bad. most predator hybrids would’ve made fifty sleazy comments by now. satoru hasn’t.

whether that means he’s respectful or just hiding the sleazy, you're not sure yet.

that doesn’t mean your guard’s down. far from it. every time he’s near, he’s just a little too loud, a little too fangy with his smiles, a little too comfortable standing too close.

he frightens you. but maybe that’s just your body doing what prey bodies are built to do: recognize danger.

he offers you dinner when he cooks. granted, it’s always aggressively meaty—the kind of protein-heavy meals that make your molars hurt just smelling them. you remember the look he gave you when you passed on eggs and bacon in favor of a celery stick and hummus.

"that’s why you’re so tiny, lil bun. you don’t eat any protein," he says, smirking as he crosses his arms. "good thing i’m strong enough for the both of us. i’ll fend off any bad guys."

ironic, coming from him.

it’s been a week now. your family bet you’d come crawling back to the farm in two days. joke’s on them. you’ve got a job—minimum wage hostess gig at a sushi place with sticky floors —and a basic understanding of the city’s train lines. so far, you're winning.

you’re curled up on the couch now, still in your work clothes, a scent-blocker gum tucked into your cheek. the shitty tv is playing a rerun of some equally shitty dating show, and you're letting your brain rot happily.

the door slams open.

"maaaan, it’s hot!" gojo groans, already kicking off his sneakers.

you nod at him, slow. "it is a little warm."

standard tokyo summer heatwave. your hair stuck to your forehead on the walk home, even with a chilled melon soda can pressed against your neck.

gojo messes with the wall unit, setting it to barely-above-freezing. he plants himself in front of the vent, sighing as the cold air blasts his face. his snowy hair flutters. his spotted tail sways lazily.

you sigh too, thankful when the cool air hits you.

"by the way," he says, pulling something out of a plastic bag. "got us a calendar. for, y’know. tracking stuff."

it’s a digimon-themed calendar. hideous. bright. kind of cute.

"tracking what?" you ask, tilting your head. your ears twitch slightly.

he gives you a look. the kind that says c’mon now. then he grins, sharp and wicked.

"heats and ruts, obviously."

your body locks up like a rabbit under a hawk’s shadow. the remote in your hand slips between your fingers and clatters on the couch.

oh. shit. you completely forgot about that.

in all the chaos of city life and moving in with a stranger—a goddamn leopard—you forgot to plan for your heat cycle.

back when you thought shoko (neutral hybrid, unbothered) was gonna be your roommate, you’d done research, figured it was safe, thought maybe you could ride it out alone. but now? now you were going to be in a confined space, with him.

gojo’s still grinning. "don’t tell me you forgot about that, bunnygirl. unless…" his voice drops. his pupils dilate. "you wanted to go through them together."

you hurl a pillow at his face. he catches it with one hand, laughing.

"no, i did not!"

"relax, relax," he says, tossing it back beside you. "i’m joking. sort of. anyway, just give me a heads up when it’s coming and i’ll crash at nanamin’s."

you roll your eyes, you doubt your neighbor would be pleased with that idea.

"you don’t have to. this is your place."

he shrugs. "you pay rent, this place is yours too. and no offense, but i doubt you want me anywhere near you when you’re all soft and squirmy and smelling like—"

you shoot a glare his way that makes him shut up.

then you nod slowly. that… makes sense. you chew your lip and glance toward the calendar.

"okay. thanks. i’ll look at it in a bit."

there’s a pause. the sound of the tv fills the room.

then, slowly, you realize he’s still staring at you.

"what?"

he raises a brow, smirking. "well, we figured out what you’re doing for your heat, but what about me, huh? you think nanami wants to babysit a snow leopard that’s trying to fuck his couch?"

you bristle. "i’ve been around ruts before."

"yeahhh," he drawls, eyes half-lidded. "pretty sure rodent ruts don’t hit the same as mine. i get a little… intense."

you scoff. your fingers tremble around the tv remote.

"okay. then i’ll leave."

“yeah? where?”

you pause. crap. where?

he smirks. "exactly."

"pff, nah. we’ll figure it out. mine just passed, anyway. right before you moved in."

"is that why it stank so bad in here?" you say, not thinking.

he doesn’t answer.

you turn to look at him—and find his eyes locked on your chest. your nipples are hard, pressing against your thin tee from the cold.

your face burns.

you cross your arms. "you made it too cold in here, creep."

he hums a laugh and stands, stretching his arms behind his head. his muscles ripple, and it’s so annoying how effortlessly good-looking he is.

"get used to it, bunny. i love the cold."

he wanders into the kitchen.

you try to focus on the tv, but the image creeps in anyway—his face, twisted by his rut, eyes wild, claws flexing. the thought of what his version of a rut would look like crawls down your spine like ice.

you press the gum deeper into your cheek.

this is not going to be easy.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

taglist: @satorupied, @mashtura, @auucz, @littlemissfix-itfic, @luv3nti, @sukunawhores, @nx-0w, @rh-tg1, @sugacor3, @victoria1676, @arabellasolstice, @qardasngan

[jaegerbby]

➳ inculpatus

--͙[satoru gojo x female! reader]-͙-

╰┈➤ word count; 5800

╰┈➤ rundown; satoru is everything you want and more, it is time you gave him a little more of you.

╰┈➤ caution; virgin! reader (also described as having small breasts), established relationship, corruption kink, cunninglingus, size kink, cum eating, ball sucking (?), handjob, dry humping, fingering.

not proof read!

he is pretty, way too pretty for you to think properly.

"can i suck your dick?" satoru flinches once the words leave your mouth. he is perched on the quaint white sofa in your apartment and maybe you should not have spoken so loosely because his eyes slightly widen as he turns to you.

"sorry! it's just... you haven't tried anything with me." you unsurely speak, avoiding his gaze. satoru is respectful, overly so. you thought inviting him to your place would at least give him a hint without you having to spell it out for him.

sky blue eyes flit over your features before he licks his lips. they are so pink they look doll like. "i don't want to push you." he pauses. "because you're a virgin." while he does not admit it, it undeniably makes him hard.

"i'm not ready for sex but other things." you trail off, "you can do other things with me."

he jaggedly nods, his head feels dizzy after hearing you say he can have his way with you. "i'll do anything you want."

you perk up immediately.

"how do i get it hard?" he follows your gaze as you focus on his crotch. where the grey fabric of his pants are futile in concealing his bulge.

you are too cute. satoru surges forward to press soft wet kisses to the right of your neck before shifting to give the left the same treatment.

your breath picks up at his proximity, you feel the softness of his hair but it is a lot different in this atmosphere.

his large palm cups along your jaw. "you don't have to do anything. i could look at you and my cock gets so hard it hurts. it's worse cause these clothes are so skimpy." his gaze has darkened now, your mouth feels sticky with spit and your stomach turns in an unfamiliar way.

he grips your wrist to bring your hand onto his stiffened erection. "feel that?" he urges your touch along him, it feels hard, long and hot. so hot.

it does not take long before you are caressing him without any assistance, he puffs air into your face. "i didn't make a move cause i didn't want to scare you but i wanted to touch you. whenever you leaned over i saw your titties, i saw how small they are and your puffy nipples. got such cute tits, babe, wanted to suck on them so bad, would you like that?" you mewl at his low voice, his thumb strokes over your bottom lip.

"toru." his expression looks almost pained at how airy you sound, your voice is sexed out already. when you call him like that how is he supposed to stay sane?

he tugs the straps of your vest down, you practically writhe like a cock is in you as your breasts are revealed. you squeeze along his length, your little hand working him despite your lack of experience.

"i want to lick them up, see how much you squirm or if you'd cum from that alone. just from your little tits getting sucked" he paws at your chest, there is barely a handful for him to grope.

he tweaks your nipples, his eyes narrowing and his tongue flicking over his lip. he is so close you can see the sky within his eyes, the thickness of his lashes and the blush along his skin.

"you didn't wear a bra, what about panties? what kind do you wear, ones with little bows, pink, white? what's a virgin like you into? you keep your tight cunt covered in cute ones or do you dress her like a whore?" you moan at the vulgarity, your forehead leaning on his while you lose your bearings.

your pussy is a soaking mess and if you could, you would press your thighs together to relieve the ache that is building up the longer satoru invades your space.

your insides clench and clamp down, they feel like they are begging for something. satoru tugs your hand away from his heady cock and you whine.

"why don't you show me? show me what you have under those slutty shorts." he pinches at your nipple hard enough to make you wince, his teeth flashing as he smiles. he looks so pretty, far too perfect to be real.

your palm slowly strokes your pussy over your shorts, satoru's eyes hold yours before they flit down to look at you touch yourself.

his hands reach for your waist, bunching up in the fabric of your vest. he is so big and strong, his muscles flex and pulse. your fingers prod the waist band, biting your lip as you slip further in.

the soft skin of your pussy meets your fingers and the wetness pooling from your slit drenches them after. it is hot and syrupy. he can see bare skin where your hand keeps the fabric pulled taunt.

"i didn't wear any. cause you'd be here. i thought about you seeing my pussy through my shorts. did you, toru? when i answered the door or when i sat down did you see it?" he groans, rolling his head against yours.

you stroke down your slit, you are wetter than usually. you are so much wetter now than when you are touching yourself to the thought of him.

"you're driving me crazy. yeah i saw it. i saw your little cunt. you need to be careful, i'll start thinking you're telling me to take your pussy when you do things like this." you face contorts, satoru's hand trailing along your sides and his voice sounds like a wet dream come through.

you pump the underside of your fingers along your swollen opening. "i am, toru. it's already yours." your voice is all shaky and you do not sound like yourself at all.

you are all whiny and borderline desperate. you sound like you need to get fucked. you hurriedly tug your hand away to grip his face and press your mouth to his.

the slick from your fingers taints his skin and you hardly know how to kiss but satoru tilts his head to deepen it. he is a good kisser but you knew that already, you have kissed him before but never this exposed, never with this palpable tension.

he hums into your mouth, his hand cupping your throat as his tongue glides over yours. you feel like the saliva pools in your mouth, you suck on his bottom lip then you kiss him harder.

your fingers pull on his hair, your teeth gnashing. it is open mouthed and desperate. the kiss is all wet and sloppy and any time either of you pull back the other chases.

the other pushes forward to keep your mouths connected. wet smacks fill the room, his tongue claims every part of your mouth it already has and when you both lean back your chest is heaving

"fuck, oh fuck." you pant and your fists tangle in his shirt to pull him back in, your lips glide along satoru's, spit swapping and your cunt aching the more you kiss him.

you think you might give him your virginity this very moment.

his thumb strokes your throat, using his grip to draw you closer. your entire body is vibrating, you feel like every neurone in your system is firing off.

you whine, your mouth leaving his with a sticky smacking noise. "i think m'losing it." you breathlessly mutter, satoru drags his finger along your lips, smearing the saliva across the swollen flesh.

"i am too, you shouldn't have let me touch you. i won't be able to stop." you look so innocent, yet your hair is all messed up, your lips are puffy from kissing so aggressively, your cute little boobs are exposed and your pussy is so insanely wet, there is a wet patch through your shorts.

it drives satoru insane, how can you look like sin incarnate and still have innocence all over your face.

"i don't want you to stop." he groans at your admission, you need to stop before he is too far gone. you need to stop before satoru starts thinking about how the inside of your tight virgin pussy will feel. all hot, gooey and sticky. he just knows your leaky little fuck hole would take his shape so well.

he leans in to peck your lips, satoru needs to stop thinking. "m'not letting you suck my cock." you stare at him in disappointment. why are you doing that? satoru has half a mind to stick his cock in one of your holes and you are making it far too difficult not to.

his hands caress your hair, smoothening it down before he cups your face. he wants to bite your pouty lips and never stop kissing them at the same time.

"not today, not gna slip my cock in your tight baby throat and feel all those little muscles gripping me, no cause i want to eat up your pussy instead. i want to taste how sweet you are and stick my tongue in that virgin hole." your fingers paw at his body, feeling his hard stiff muscles beneath them. he tugs off your vest and you lay back as he reaches for the waist band of your shorts.

a deep sound rumbles in his chest when the material peels away from your cunt and he sees it for the first time.

"c'mon didn't you want me to see? spread your legs." and you do, without any fanfare. satoru's large palms coax along the back of your thighs before he cups under your knees to keep you open for his prying eyes. satoru wonders how long you had been thinking about showing him your hot sticky pussy.

he wishes you showed him sooner but he might have lost it since then. your cunt is dripping with slick, it leaks down your hole to your ass. you look all pink inside satoru wants to see it stretched around him, he wants to feel you gripping his cock and milking him dry.

"got such a pretty pussy, i'm lucky, so fucking lucky. my pretty girl is so gorgeous. look at this messy little hole, she's so wet, fuck." the tips of his fingers trail along your slit, collecting your wetness before he rolls your stiff clit. you jolt as he strokes your bundle of nerves. the mewl that escapes you is borderline pornographic.

he leans over to lap at your lips and then he is shoving his tongue in your mouth to roughly kiss you. his entire body is between your legs, he covers you completely. he is so big it makes you ditzy. he is hard and muscular all over.

when he is on you like this, all you can think about is how easily he could fuck you, it is all you want. you want him pounding into your pussy until you are brainless. he is so close he could take you right now if he pleased.

your hands tangle in his hair, trailing down his jaw and neck before you squeeze his broad shoulders. satoru moans into your mouth, propping his arm beside your head to crowd over you more.

your hips stuttering as he rubs your clit harder. you feel his bulge hitting the back of your thigh, hot on your skin beneath his clothes. you want to see it, you want to touch it.

"toru, i want to see you" a growl rumbles in his throat and he licks into your mouth. "take it off, please" you tug at his shirt, he does not want to stop kissing you. his expression is pained as he pulls away, hurriedly yanking off his shirt to reveal his narrow waist and the muscles all over his body.

you giggle when he shoves his pants down and almost falls over. he climbs onto you with an embarrassed smile on his face and blush coating his cheeks. "you laughing at me?" you hum. "cause you're cute and i like you." you brush the long hair away from of his forehead and wrap your legs around his narrow waist to tug him in.

when his covered erection meets your slit you both breathe heavily. "why didn't you take these off?" your finger prods the waistband of his boxers. your eyes are on his, the same ones that look like every sunny sky is held within them.

"i don't trust myself to not fuck you. if i take them off, you won't be a virgin for much longer." you shiver beneath him. that does not sound like a threat, it sounds like the solution to everything.

like something you need to keep breathing. satoru is big, every muscle in his body is defined, you can trace each one with your eyes. his shoulders, his abs, his biceps. you want to see how they flex and bulge when he is losing himself in your cunt. how they will pulse when he is fucking you.

he gropes your breasts, his tongue laving over your nipple before he sucks down on the perked flesh. your legs jerk when he thrusts his hips into yours. your stomach feels tight, you feel like there are too many butterflies within the small space.

your pussy leaks so much liquid it drenches the front of his boxers, it only makes it easier for him to hump away with your pussy. his bulky thighs are warm as they press into the back of yours to hold you open. satoru pants into your skin, you can see the ripple of his back muscles as he fucks his hips.

there are wet smacks of his cock colliding with your cunt, this alone feels so good, you know it would feel a million times better if he was actually fucking you. you want him to have you, you want the real thing. it turns your brain to mush, makes your cunt ache and your tummy tremble.

he is breathless when he kisses you, it is hard and sloppy. almost as hard as his cock grinding against you. it is thick and long, you want to have it in your hand, down your throat, inside you.

you never thought depravity would ruin you like this but it does and it is okay because satoru is the only one you will get like this for.

his hands desperately grip your cheeks and jaw. you moan as he pulls back to slam his hips particularly hard. hard enough to make your body jerk and your back arch.

"i want to eat you out. i need your pussy in my mouth, need to know how you taste." you whine, your nails dig into his nape, thighs squeezing on either side of his hips.

"anything, toru. anything you want." you mewl. the friction on your pussy has your head in a mess, more of a mess than the slick leaking from your untouched hole.

he presses his stuttering hips flush to yours, his hefty length digging into your cunt. "you don't know how much i thought about this, i used to rub my dick raw when i thought about getting my mouth on you. my tongue in you, wanted to smell and taste your pussy so bad."

he slowly kisses down your sternum, hands trailing over the heat his lips leave in their wake. his palms are so wide, just one spans your waist. just one covers the plane of your stomach. his mouth seems to water the closer he gets to your sex.

you tug your legs to your chest, your hands folded and resting over your mouth. you tense when satoru presses his nose into your slick and nudges the flesh. it is embarrassing, even after all you did, it makes you more flustered than you can explain.

"you smell like heaven, baby. fuck don't ever keep this cunt away from me." his tongue flicks out to lave over your buzzing clit and your eyes shut tightly. it is when he reaches your dripping hole does your body stiffen the most.

your toes curl as he licks you greedily, sucking at the sodden flesh. it is like he does not want to stop. he presses further, his tongue flattening over the expanse of your pussy as he licks it entirely.

"fuck, babe. your pussy's too perfect." his eyes flick upwards, they are blown out and predatory. he spreads your lips before wetly spitting a thick glob into you.

he drags it along your slit before plunging a finger inside. it is long and thick, a lot thicker than any of yours. you writhe at the intrusion.

"how am i supposed to fuck such a tight hole? won't be able to take it, i might just rip your cute little cunt apart." his mouth encloses your clit, sucking and licking as he fucks his finger into you. the pace he sets is fast and riveting, it has you moaning like a freaked up slut instead of a virgin.

you brokenly cry when he adds another finger and your insides are stretched more than they are used to. you can hear the soaked soppy noises of your hole being slammed into over and over, his slimy mouth on your clit.

it is so embarrassing. yet it feels so good, getting your insides stroked and having his mouth somewhere you never thought it should be made your entire body buzz.

his mouth wetly separates from your clit with a sticky pop. "you like that? yeah you do, got your pussy dripping all over me." he thrusts his fingers, deep and fast. like he has done it countless times before.

you dumbly nod your head, your insides squeezing his digits and your hips rutting to meet his movements. he pounds into your hole until the creamy liquid is dripping down his wrist and there are tears in your eyes. saliva webs in your mouth while you moan. he slowly pulls his digits out of you.

"you okay?" you hum, sniffling. your eyes trail along his glistening fingers, it is weird to think they were just inside of you. satoru looks at you as he kisses your abdomen, caressing your thigh before his tongue glides along your entrance.

the tip prods your cunt and you whine lowly when the hot slimy muscle finally sinks in, hips tilting at the strange sensation. he groans into your flesh, his jaw dropping to press deeper. the tip of his perfect nose nuzzles against your clit and your eyes flutter constantly.

your lids threaten to shut as his mouth drips saliva onto you and the muscle squirms within your gooey walls. the knot in your stomach pulls tighter and tighter, your thighs tensing at the sight of him bobbing his head between your legs.

your shaky fingers find purchase in fluffy white locks. the feeling of his tongue being pumped into you makes your mind go blank, it makes your mouth water and your insides tighten.

squelching sounds fill the room as he eats your cunt up. his tongue going so deep your vision blurs.

"toru, toru, toru." you did not realise you were moaning. blue eyes flick up to look at you, you who is so lost in pleasure your head is leaned back and your chest is heaving.

satoru thinks if he had to choose the happiness moment in his life it would be here, with you. you were intoxicating enough but having you like this meant he could never be without you.

your slick in his mouth drives him insane, he wants it on his tongue always, he could die happy if your pussy is the last thing he has. he sucks up your drenched hole before moving to your clit.

he laps at the mound, fingers filling your hole to replace his tongue. the faster he shoves into you the more you tremble, the more your body jolts and the tighter you grip his hair. they reach for his shoulders instead, nails digging into his flesh and it makes satoru think about you clawing his skin when his cock is buried balls deep in you.

your voice is all high pitched and whiny, your head writhes against the couch, hips bucking into his face. he does not give you a break, despite your moans being broken and shaky.

no, he slams his fingers into your creamy pussy, feeling your walls pulsing around him as he quickly thrusts into you.

your liquid splatters with the pace of his movements, his mouth alternating between sucking your clit and licking it up. your voice is all honey dew and dreamy when you cream.

satoru groans at the taste of your cum, still fingering your innocent hole as he laps at the evidence of your orgasm. your thighs tremble and you roll your hips into his face, breathless with the weight of your high.

satoru's jaw is covered with slick when he moves over you, his other hand still gently caressing between your folds after slipping out of your sensitive slit. "why do you know how to do that?" you mumble.

"i had to know just so i could do it with you." he flashes you the prettiest smile. you trace his jawline, your blurred eyes trailing over his messy hair, his lengthy lashes, his gorgeous eyes and the slope of his nose.

the pinkness of his lips is more swollen than usual and cum drips down his jaw. even so he lacked imperfections.

satoru pecks your cheek "you were so good, such a perfect girl." he presses his body flush onto yours, both of his arms hugging your figure.

your smile is flustered with his weight on you, you keep him as close as possible. you are overwhelmed in a good way.

you think you would do this countless times so long as it is with satoru. he buries his face into the crook of your neck and sighs softly.

"i don't think i could be without you." truly, he thinks it might break him. you press a kiss to his hair, your hand stroking down the toned bulked up expanse of his back.

"you'll always have me, toru." the sound that escapes him is something like a whine as he leans in to peck your lips.

"we should clean up." you slowly let go when he sits himself up. satoru's arm is resting along the back of the couch, one leg folded while the other rests on the tiled floor.

his dexterous hand adjusts his cock through his boxers. the thickness looks like it is struggling with the constricting fabric. your body feels lighter, the mess between your legs is a bit uncomfortable but you tug them to your chest and look at the male before you.

he is way too big, it makes you all tingly inside. like he could hurt you if he wanted to but he does not. like if he held you, his arms would be the most impenetrable fortress. 

"what do you want to do after?" he leans his head back, his eyes turn to you and his adam's apple bobs. he is looking at you but you are staring at his evident erection.

the thin material of his boxers does nothing to hide the girth of his aching cock nor does it conceal the wet patch from his pre cum.

"so shameless." he slyly smiles, he reaches to nudge your chin but his resolve falters when your gaze flits between his crotch and his eyes and your cute little tongue trails along the seam of your kiss swollen lips.

he hopes you do not say what he knows you will because satoru cannot resist you. not a single ounce of him has the strength to refuse you.

"toru, i can take care of you too." his smile slowly drops and his mouth dries. his eyes go dark and he tilts his head.

"yeah?" he sees your little hands bunch into fists before you perch yourself on your knees and you lean closer to him.

satoru wants you this close forever, to always see, touch and have no matter what. your hair frame your face and your lips pouts with your words.

"if you want to use my mouth or anything else, you can." you are temptation. you are temptation in the form of an angel.

satoru swallows hard, he shifts closer to you, hands cupping either side of your head. he kisses your forehead before nuzzling your nose with his.

"today isn't about me, we'll do it another time." your eyes flit over his features, leaning in to peck his plush pink lips. you grips his wrists, stroking them.

"but i want to do it now, i really want to see it." satoru breathes heavily. he feels like there is no air in his lungs.

"okay." it comes out soft, you are too good for him. "i just need you to put something on if i'm taking my boxers off."

his large palm trails down your bare chest "you're too pretty, you're everything i want and i don't trust myself to not take you." you slowly nod before holding his hand. satoru follows you without a question, he would follow you to ends of the earth without any hesitation.

your bedroom is pink where your apartment is white everywhere else, it is like you were hiding all the colour in here. it is his first time in your bedroom despite the countless times you slept over in his.

you have plushies all over your bed, the sheets are pink, your fluffy pillows are pink, your closet is wide open and all that meets the eye is pink. your laptop, headset, desk. it is all pink.

you leave him beside your bed and he sits at the edge with an increasingly painful erection making his boxers tight.

his eyes trail over your room and he has to adjust his cock again. this should not be a turn on.

yet something about you, a pretty little thing like you touching yourself in such an adorable room, getting fucked by him in here.

the thought of him pressing your face into these pink sheets and rawing your cunt with reckless abandon. it makes him lose his mind.

he winces as he tugs his swollen cock. when you come back into his view, pink lacy panties are covering your pussy and the matching bra that conceals your tits makes satoru groan.

you draw closer to him and his large palms caress your hips. "now i know you wear cute panties." he jokingly says but there is a desperate undertone in his voice.

when you kneel down, satoru thinks he might be too turned on to think. he wants to keep you to himself.

your hand strokes along his happy trail before teasing the waistband framing his deep v line. he gently grasps your wrist, preventing you from going further.

"we'll leave the blow job for another day, okay? you can use your hand, i'll tell you what to do." you nod yet your eyes look all hungry. his abs tense, staring at your face as he tucks his thumbs into his boxers and tugs them down his thighs.

finally having his aching cock unrestricted has him grunting. your expression is so flustered yet you are pressing your legs together to dull that burning desire at the sight of him.

he grits his teeth, you are staring at it, from the pinkness of his swollen tip, to the dip where his head meets his shaft. the hefty girth with veins trailing down it, there is one particularly prominent one along the underside.

satoru wants to make you feel every inch of it inside, he wants to make you take his shape. maybe he is thinking too deeply, he jolts when your mouth surrounds the side of his ballsack and your little tongue is laved along it repeatedly. "don't- ohmfuck. okay, okay." he pants, fingers curling into his palms.

you need to stop before satoru shoves his entire cock down your throat without any care that you are gagging and choking on it. the gasp that leaves him is way too shaky. his tip goes past your face, it is over the crown of your head, it is too big for you. he is too big for you but he cannot not touch you.

he needs you like he needs air. he hums softly, he should stop you. he really should but he cannot when you are sucking at his balls. your little hands resting on his upper thighs and your mouth is draining him of any self preservation.

"you like it?" there is a sticky noise as your mouth pulls back, so much saliva on his skin. it is even webbed in your mouth.

"mm, you're so big toru." hearing those words in your soft voice makes his cock ache. he should not, he really should not but he needs to see it.

"keep that pretty baby mouth closed." he cups the back of your head, gripping his cock and squeezing it tightly before he presses it into your cheek. he curses, burning it into memory as he rubs his mushroom tip along your lips. his pre cum looks better than any lipgloss you own.

his fingers tangle in your hair to make you look up at him. having pretty little you, kneeling in nothing but laced panties chips away at satoru's restraint.

"want you to wrap your hand around it, can you do that for me?" you hum, when he lets go your fingers take his place. right around his base, your hand is so much smaller and so much softer. your fingers do not even reach around the perimeter of his cock.

his breaths are all laboured and hard, "don't put it in your mouth, just lick the head." his thumb strokes your cheek and you lean closer. your squirming slimy tongue trails over the slit and satoru throbs against the muscle.

"fuck, baby, you're so good at listening." he grips your hand to guide you up and down his length. "squeeze it a bit and move your hand like this." pre cum dribbles and he lets you do it on your own. it is jerky and unsure but somehow your hand feels so much better than his. he leans back on his arms, his hips moving slightly, his chest heaving and his dick begging for release.

"am i doing okay?" you mumble, begging for praise, feeling the ridges of his cock along your fingers while you slowly stroke up over his thick head and down his shaft.

the liquid seeping from his tip glides down along the sides and collects on your fingers, making it easier to jerk him off.

"more than okay, pretty girl. you're perfect." satoru's hand tangles in your pink sheets, the other reaching to tuck your hair behind your ear.

"faster?" you tilt your head, you are like a puppy. the cutest one ever.

"if you want." he grunts, when your hand starts pumping at his cock more, his eyes roll back. the muscles along his thighs flexing, all over his body in fact. he cannot help but fuck his hips upwards to meet your movements.

he is leaking incessantly, it coats your hand and it sounds all sticky and wet when you rub his cock. satoru curses, he feels like a virgin, maybe it was you, maybe it was your hand on him but it made his stomach all tight and his cock throb with no control.

you stroke at his base with a vigorous pace, your other hand surrounding his upper shaft and moving much slower. he jerks, teeth gritting when your tongue laves over the pinkness of his head before you take it in your mouth. it is so warm and wet, it makes him lose his mind.

your lips rest right before his shaft and the second you suck, satoru tightly grips the sheets, his head hanging and his jaw dropped to moan erotically.

"baby, baby what are you doing to me?" his unsteady palm caresses the crown of your head, petting you like the sight of his cock in your mouth does not tear him to bits. like it has not thrown him over the edge.

he wonders if you can feel him pulsing against your tongue. he wants to know what deeper in your little mouth would feel like wrapped around him.

"you're so fucking good, holy shit. never felt this good before." he groans and your eyes meet his, your wide innocent looking eyes despite how he has tainted you already. you look too pure for what you are doing.

"fuck m'gna cum. gna cum, take your mouth off baby." his hips stutter, muscles jumping. his toes curl into the fluffy mat beneath you both. you are still licking and wetly slurping around his head while you stroke his cock. the heated muscle of your tongue laving at his slit.

satoru's never came this quick before. his lids keep fluttering, he cannot stop groaning. his mind is too occupied with the thought of cumming in your mouth to stop you though he knows he should.

you keep touching and satoru has lost it already. he does not realise he is cumming in your little mouth until your hands have slowed down and you are teary eyed with milky liquid dripping down your jaw.

he curses. satoru is so sensitive and you are swallowing, why do you keep swallowing?

"baby, don't swallow. fuck, you don't have to." your hands shift to rest on his thighs, your brows furrowed and your little throat still bobbing.

you lean back and strands of cum are webbed in your mouth, still connected to his softening member. it drips onto the rug beneath you.

you sniffle, swallowing hard while you gaze up at him. your eyes are all glossy and pretty.

"i didn't think it would be that much." you are on your knees, right in front of him with your belly full of his cum, looking like the sweetest girl in the whole world.

you are his, you are all his. you have to be.

he cups either side of your face, leaning down to kiss you hard. he tilts his head, his tongue gliding over yours and the taste of his cum heavy in your mouth.

he reaches under your arms to lift you into his lap, nose nuzzling yours while he hugs you close. you are so much smaller you tuck right in along his large frame.

"i like you too much." he breathes into your shared air.

satoru cannot get enough of you.

[thumblemina]

me: just write something small to practice more smut

also me: 700+ words in and all they've made is eye contact

[storusangel]

this is literally me

[honeyxbee-deactivated20250305]

Sweet

SatoSugu x gn!reader

Day 15 ― Corruption Kink TW: NSFW, innocent and oblivious reader, fantasies, mentions of masturbation words: 331

Geto and Gojo are absolutely infatuated with their sweet little Kohai.

And who could blame them? You're so fucking cute ― your cheeks flushing bright red whenever they pay you the slightest bit of attention, stumbling over your words with a sheepish smile and a whiny 'senpai.'

It only makes them want to tease you more. They can tell you find them attractive; how you stare at them when they return from missions, the way you giggle when one of them drapes their arm over your shoulder.

They like you, you want them: getting into a relationship should be the most obvious answer.  

But you're so innocent, it's almost infuriating.

They have flirted with you for months; have dropped the most obvious hints that they're interested in you. Hell, they've even asked you out on a date. But you just blush, laughing and brushing off their words as jokes.

It's amazing how something could be so endearing yet so damn frustrating at the same time.

They want nothing more than to make you realize just how much they need you. You're so naive, unexperienced, but they could fix that. They want to show you a whole new world.

To tell you about all the times they've gotten off to the thought of you sandwiched between them, begging for them to fuck you. That they've imagined how your lips would feel against theirs, how they've dreamed of bringing you over the edge over and over again.

You're so adorable; they doubt you've even touched yourself before. They're positive you're a virgin; maybe they'd even be your first kiss. Just the thought sends a jolt of pleasure up their spine. They could teach you about pleasure: make you crave it. They want nothing more.

But they can't. They know it would be wrong; they care too much about you to push you into it.  

So for now, they just get off at the thought of it and hope that one day you'll notice.

[whimsic404-deactivated20260406]

“roomates” with satoru gojo

 this is part five of my kinktober event!

word count: 2.3k

warnings: nsfw, roomate au, fingering, gojo has a nasty mouth, pwp!, virgin reader, overstim. (18+ mdni!)

notes: i love the idea of actor and roomate gojo so much,,, may talk about it later. uploading early again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

kinktober masterlist | masterlist

having the satoru gojo as your roommate is quite the experience.

it was odd—

you had known satoru in college, always somehow getting stuck in the same overflow housing on campus. you had gotten to know each other well, being forced to live with the other off and on. after he had gotten his degree in drama—and you got your degree in a successful STEM major—he proposed moving in together. you needed a place off campus, and he needed someone to room with, because rent was too high for him to afford on his own as a budding actor.

things were fine for a while, daily routines consisted of seeing one another regularly. but then satoru had his first big gig. he disappeared for months, needed for a last minute replacement. he told you about the role; a younger version of a strong—no, the strongest—sorcerer. apparently, he got to play his part in a dramatic friendship breakup, which you figured perfectly suited the way satoru acted normally.

his fame quickly rose, with the series being released only a few months later. after that, satoru never really came around all that often; you saw him maybe twice a month, if you got lucky. but even after that, satoru stayed in the apartment. you didn’t mind, honestly, he kept up with his side of the rent plus some.

but the really odd part?

your social media feed.

every social wouldn’t shut up about him—“upcoming star, satoru gojo makes an impact in new tv series,” “he’s so hot, i’d let him do whatever he wanted,” “I NEED HIM,”

and yeah, maybe curiosity got the best of you when you searched up the fanfiction—but hey, people seemed like they would kill to be in your position. the creative minds of those online made you see your goofy, struggling artist of a roommate in a different light. the way they wrote about his chest, and how smooth and toned it is, or his sparkly blue eyes and how they could make clothes fall of with just a look. recently, satoru had shared in an interview his fingers are 6 inches, and boy did people go feral over that.

they focused on every part. his soft fingertips, and how lengthy his fingers actually are the more you look at them. the subtle veins that ran over the back of his hand and up his arm. his middle and ring finger, how nicely they slide in and out, hitting that spot, coaxing you toward—

“whatcha readin’?”

the abrupt question shocks you out of your trance, making you yelp and practically throw your phone across the room. it lands face down beside your vanity, earning a loud thud when it hits the floor. your heart speeds up as you turn to face your roommate, internal temperature rapidly rising.

“jesus, satoru! what are you doing home?” you ask, praying that he wouldn’t take it upon himself to grab your phone for you.

“it’s my apartment, too, y’know,” he retorts, throwing his hands on his hips dramatically. “i’m gonna be here for a few days, if you don’t mind.” every word off his tongue is laced in sarcasm. it’s annoying.

and just as you try to reply, gojo swoops to the other side of the room to grab your phone, intently staring at the screen before you can even say, “stop!” you want to run away because you just know he’s reading pure filth about himself that you looked up. but you find yourself unable to move whatsoever, only able to watch in horror as your roommate reads fanfiction about himself. immediately, a sly grin overcomes satoru’s expression, and his eyes flicker from the phone to you over his sunglasses.

“this is pretty detailed stuff,” satoru teases. you’re able to tell he is in fact reading whatever you had pulled up on your phone, because he’s taking his sweet time scrolling and reading through all the divine things said about his hands.

“stop, satoru,” you whine, pathetically reaching for your phone. gojo holds it out of your reach, of course, and even though you almost came to grab your phone that was almost touching the ceiling, you can’t quite reach it. “please just go away,” you sigh, giving up and flopping back down on your mattress. you can only look on, still mortified, as satoru continues scrolling.

after a few heavy minutes and some more comments on your choice of fiction to read, he throws your phone back on the bed next to you, placing his hands on his hips once more.

“how long were you gonna keep that from me?”

“never really planned on telling you, satoru. leave me alone.” you reply, grabbing your phone so it’s out of gojo’s reach.

“you could’ve just asked—,”

“go away—huh?” you furrow your brows and look at the taller man, who’s sassily posed next to your bed, “don’t fuck with me like that.”

“i’m not.” he assures you.

satoru wasn’t joking. in fact, he had never been more serious in his life. he’d always thought you were pretty – more like drop dead, breathtakingly beautiful – but never mustered up the courage to talk to you about it. you were his friend, his roommate. he didn’t want to scare you off. but all chances of him not scaring you off were thrown out the window because he knew you wanted him now.

so, yes, he did what he did with every other girl—encouraging a hot make-out session after you got over the embarrassment of what was on your phone. you hadn’t had a chance to think about all those stories you read online, because it was all happening to you in real time.

with your lips in a permanent lock, satoru takes his time rubbing his hands all over your body, grabbing your waist, flipping up the skirt you had worn in the previous hours to run errands—

“wait,” you labored out, breathing heavy as you pushed your roommate’s shoulders away from you, “i’ve never—i haven’t…” your words are tripping over themselves into silence as you try to explain to your – gorgeous, famous, actor – roommate that you’re a virgin.

queue satoru’s head almost exploding. he swears then and there that his nose should’ve started to bleed, and his face turned an awful shade of red at the news. it was unfathomable in his mind that you, his smoking-hot roommate, was a virgin. he swore he saw you come home with your ex-boyfriend plenty of times…but maybe you were saving yourself, or something.

“stop looking at me like that. you were a virgin too.” you scoff at his ogling, crossing your arms over your chest. you’re still trapped against your headboard, the sheer size of satoru making you stay in one place. your legs are draped over his thighs, not quite straddling but close enough for him to feel the heat radiating off of your clothed pussy.

“do you want me to finger you?”

the crude question rolls off his tongue with ease, and you smack his shoulder with the palm of your hand in return. but again, he’s being serious. it takes you a few seconds to realize he’s being serious, he wants to finger you and it’s written all over his face.

after a few moments and shocked blinks, you nod your head.

satoru’s nosebleed actually happens whenever he gets you in position; you’re laid back with your legs on top of his, knees pressing into his waist. he just stares in utter disbelief at how cute and sexy you look, flustered all because of him. he runs the pad of his thumb over the mound in your panties, relishing in how soft, warm and damp you are. he can’t take his eyes away from how his thumb presses into the flesh, pushing down just to watch how his thumb gets swallowed by it.

“satoru—your nose is bleeding,” you gruffly state, snapping the white-haired man back to reality. one hand stays pressed to you while he lifts the other one to wipe under his nose with the back of his wrist.

low and behold, a few droplets of blood smear on the back of his wrist—but he’s too entranced by you to care. he looks back in your eyes, wiping his face with his shirt grossly.

“i’m okay—can i take them off?” satoru asks, almost politely if he wasn’t bleeding from the nose at how horny he is. his fingers hook into the waistband, eagerly awaiting your nervous little nod that you give him. he rips the thin fabric off your legs, taking it upon himself to lift you up and move your legs so he can toss your panties to the side of the room.

your immediate response is to snap your thighs together, but satoru quickly stops you and holds your legs open, forcing you to show your most intimate area to him. he drools over how pretty it looks, folds spread open and glistening, a perfect display of anatomy. he’s in love with the view alone. a prominent tent pokes in his sweatpants, but he ignores the feeling to focus on the task at hand.

“stop staring,” you meekly speak up, eyes looking anywhere else but at your celebrity roommate.

satoru’s bright irises look up at you before asking, “can i?” with the looks of a child begging for a piece of candy. after another quick, nervous nod, satoru swipes his thumb over your hole, then all the way up to over your clit. the sensation makes you wriggle and gasp, it’s odd being touched by someone else—but it feels good, even better than alone. natural lubrication practically drips off your pussy, so prettily, and satoru continues dragging his thumb up and down, paying close attention to how you whimper or move around when he gets to the bundle of nerves poking out.

you feel particularly needy at his ministrations, they’re so slow and it leaves you aching for more when he moves to less sensitive parts of your cunt. every time your eyes flash to gojo, he’s completely locked on what’s between your plush thighs, making you all the more embarrassed. embarrassment is thrown away, though, when his middle and ring fingers close together and creep up to slowly rub your clit.

your body jolts and satoru silently giggles, god, you’re so sensitive for him, he might go insane. he finds it simply endearing how well you react to him. each small circle he draws over your bud makes your thighs twitch and hole clench, and from his view, he can see it all perfectly. satoru’s eyes look up at you for once, just to see your head thrown back on the pillow and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth to silence yourself.

“don’t be quiet, babe,” he says, and your eyes snap open to be brought back to reality.

“wh—uuht?” you drawl, mind hazy and foggy from just the little bit of pleasure he was providing. but as your mouth is open, he speeds his fingers up, forcing you to practically yell out, “satoru—wait!”

“i wanna hear you,” gojo taunts, his voice light and happy, not at all giving the impression he was playing with your cunt.

he does not wait, or slow down, he only continues to quicken the pace of which his fingers circle your clit. he feels accomplished when you finally begin to let out little moans and suck in air through your teeth, knowing the feeling of his finger pads was becoming all too much. this was the type of thing he lived for—making cute, inexperienced girls (you) lose their mind from pleasure.

it’s the type of pleasure that you weren’t able to achieve yourself; it made the bottoms of your feet tingle, and your legs move on their own—and the familiar feeling of an orgasm was quickly building up. the knot in your lower abdomen grows tighter and more intense, making you whine and thrash below your roommate.

satoru’s other hand comes down to prod his index finger at your tight hole, an unfamiliar feeling to you—especially as it’s being done by someone else. he pushes his finger in, causing another yelp to come from the back of your throat—but it doesn’t hurt. gently fucking you with just the tip of his finger, satoru’s hand focused on your clit speeds up more.

“mm—satoru, think i’m close,” your words are rushed as you warn him, but his movements don’t falter in the slightest.

“yeah? gonna cum on my fingers?” he teases, “gonna cream all my hand?”—and if you weren’t already so close, you would’ve kicked him out at the taunting. instead, you throw your arms over your face and try your best to hold back the feeling—wanting it to last as long as possible. he slowly pushes his finger in more and more, gradually coming to fuck you with one thin, long finger. the first bit he’s fully inside, it’s uncomfortable, but the pressure fades the more he plays with you. the bubble of your orgasm grows and grows until you’re about to topple over the edge.

“i’m gonna cum,” the words come out your mouth in a long, sultry string— satoru’s never heard anyone sound so good while telling him that.

“yeah, that’s it—come on, baby,” satoru encourages you, his voice having dropped multiple octaves to sound a million times more sexy — far from the satoru you’d come to know. his words force the orgasm to crash over you, your body continually jolting and stuttering—beginning to fight satoru because he doesn’t stop.

“i—i finished—stop, satoru—ohmygod—,” you stutter out, and satoru presses his elbows against your thigh, rendering you immobile.

“you’re so sensitive, princess,” satoru teases again, and you catch his eyes in a downright primal stare,

“gonna make you cum on my fingers again, baby.”