You never meant to fall for the tall, sweet, hot, nerd like this—mouthing at his bulge from beneath his desk, your pussy ruined from the thought of a blowjob alone.
You couldn’t help it: the way he would flush when he looked at you, all the nice things he’s said before and after your breakup with your loser ex, not to mention all the ways he encouraged you, somehow conveying the sentiments beyond the class you both shared.
So what if you wanted to reward him a little? Against all odds, Gojo Satoru made you shy, made you rethink your usual strategy with men that led to a coy, too slow, and indirect of a courting to go beyond stolen cuddles and kisses that teased just short of his lips.
It was time to get your point across.
“Sweetheart—you don’t—fuck—“ he bucked into your mouth when you breathed over the tip, tongue laving over his boxers lovingly.
“Hmm?” you blinked prettily up at him, absentmindedly nipping over his clothed erection.
“You don’t have to…I mean…I wanted to get you flowers at least,” Satoru groaned. “Fuck, baby, let me take you on a date first, please.”
“But you’re so hard,” you emphasized. And yummy.
“Because you’re beautiful and I like you so much, and fuck, let me do this right, okay?” He clasped your smaller hand in his, the other coming up to card through your hair, palm gently resting against your cheek.
“I like you so much,” he repeated. “C’mere, please.”
You pouted. You smoothed over your skirt before rising. Despite the circumstances, you felt his heated gaze trail over your form. Good.
You bent over, offering a teasing view of the silk between your legs. Your panties landed innocently on his lap.
"Fine," you relented. "But you get to fuck me how you like after."
Sweet boyfriend Satoru, who is so, so gentle with you.
contains: size kink, pet names (baby, sweetheart), possessiveness, dacryphilia
.
He lets you have your way with him, kneading at your hips and thighs with his too big palms, those same hands later coming up to your waist, thumbs just shy of grazing your chest. He doesn’t need to push you down on his lap, not when you do it yourself, crying into his mouth and drowning out his own, cooing words against your lips.
.
“Go slow, baby...” Satoru bites back a groan when you sink into him, eyes rolling into the back of his head with each short, eager little thrust you make. He’s too big for you and you know it, asking anyway if you could take him doggy for the first time, and serving him with an unfairly disarming pout when he sputters some suggestions saying otherwise. Maybe it’ll be less painful if…We could try something else or…? But all it took were your best puppy eyes and his mouth had dried. Fuck it, he says, giving into that deeper part of him. It sates him to see you bend over, shifting subtly so that delicate line your back bows beautifully—in what he knows is just for him.
Yours, you mouth, looking back with your cheek pressed against his sheets.
.
Your sweet boyfriend Satoru, who already had too much of your unexpected mouthiness the entire day, now seethes at the restaurant as you smile a little too brightly at the server and hears a coyness in your voice that you usually reserve just for him.
He drags you home before the first course arrives, and there’s laughter in your eyes, a sort of vindication that makes something destructive coil in his gut.
You wanted this, he thinks to himself. When the third strike hits your cunt, he knows you’re close. “I want you to cum for me in two, okay? Can you count for me, sweetheart?” he murmurs as you nod pathetically, tears catching at his knuckles from where he grips your cheeks to pinch your swollen lips into a pout.
When the fifth strike hits, he kisses you harshly, humming approvingly when you scream, teeth against teeth. You’re so slick and wanting more, mumbling desperate wishes into his neck.
“‘Baby’ what, hmm?” he asks—a little mean, a little breathless. “You want me to fuck you?” He teases a finger over your hole, circling it slowly with the barest hint of pressure, and your mouth slackens in a silent cry, hips subconsciously trying to chase after his touch.
“I don’t think so,” he says, lazily stroking his finger over your clit. “I think I’ll keep you just like this.”
You found yourself on your new boyfriend’s lap an hour later, a beautiful bouquet of flowers on your lap while you’re kissing him in the middle of a dimly lit, classy restaurant in Roppongi. He’s currently three fingers deep in you—only because you started to unzip him at the table, much to his panic and to your absolute delight.
“S’toru—” you gasp wetly, “right there, please—”
“Here?” he asks softly, curling his fingers against a sensitive spot. “You like this?” His thumb traces slow, lazy circles against your clit just as the pressure increases.
“Feels so good,” you whine into his neck, “how are you so good at this?!”
Your eyes flutter open to glare at him, begrudgingly appreciating the light dusting of pink on his cheeks, his rogue lips from all the kisses.
“Might’v—might’ve read up on it a little…” he mumbles, “maybe I’m just good with my hands.”
“Yeah, well,” you pant, “can’t have you going around now, can we?”
“No way,” he scoffs, kissing you. “‘m all yours.”
And it’s the soft way that he says it that undoes you.
“You feel so fucking good, ‘toru,” you stutter against his mouth, nails dragging along his sides as you grind up to meet his thrusts.
“Wanna take it so slow with you, you know that? But you make it so hard,” he intones, nuzzling into your neck as he lifts your legs into a meaner press. Your mouth slackens noiselessly, mind going numb from the sheer pleasure of having your boyfriend reach the deepest part of you. Normally shy and reserved, you relish in his newfound confidence as you feel yourself unravel.
“Mhmm—g’—g’nna cum,” you squeal, cheeks heating up with how fast it caught up to you. Satoru groans, thrusting eagerly as you gush, bearing down on him as your vision goes white. You scream out as the feeling overtakes you, noting somewhere in the haze of your mind how he pulses impossibly bigger when he cums.
You feel kisses come down your lids as your heart steadies, and you open your eyes to find him gazing at you with something tender. You feel him twitch inside you and you giggle.
"Hmm, my baby's still hard..." you pout, brushing back his sweaty strands. He laughs lightly, testing you with a slight cant of his hips. Your breath hitches and he notices. Satoru bites his lip.
pairing: rebound!gojo x reader x ex-bf!sukuna
suggestive
contains: stalking (but make it girlypop), reader is obsessed, gojo supports women’s rights and wrongs, sukuna needs to up his personal security, shoko is done with everyone’s shit
word count: ~600
When Shoko advised you with the age-old saying that the best way to get over someone is to get under—she didn’t think that you’d fall into Gojo’s arms of all places, stumbling into his penthouse not even an hour after your break up with your on again, off again ex-boyfriend Sukuna. It seemed serious this time, enough for you to actually entertain someone else, even if your tears hadn’t even dried by the time new ones pressed against different sheets and another pair of hands wiped them away.
Gojo is easy, you think, but Shoko knows better, having been there to see the look on his face when he tried to confidently say, Yeah, I do casual, and all the other little moments of him finally unloading all his thoughts and feelings for you at odd hours of the night. So when you wail woefully one afternoon that your ex hadn’t texted you back in four hours, Shoko doesn’t bat an eye when you then turn to Satoru, fresh tears catching at your lashes when you plead for him to join you.
That was three hours and two establishments ago, time slowly passing as you’re driven to the Costco parking lot next, a GPS tracking app that Satoru can’t identify remaining open on your phone.
“You don’t even have a membership,” Satoru deadpans.
“Shut up,” you hiss. “He’s around the corner!”
Satoru sighs, leaning over the console to take a closer look.
“I don’t think that’s him,” he hums next to you, breath fanning your face.
“It is!”
“Then why is he—oh,” Satoru’s voice pitches lower. “He’s making his way over.”
You scramble to hide yourself, motioning for him to start the engine when Sukuna’s exasperated call cuts through, paralyzing you.
You immediately want to placate him, even as the blinking red dot on your lap betrays you.
“Kuna!” you squeak, jumping out of your seat when he raps his knuckles on the window.
“Open up,” he says impatiently. “I know you bugged my phone.”
You guiltily roll down the window of Satoru’s car to serve him one of your most pitiful looks, jutting out your lip and looking up at him.
“But Kuna—”
“I’m changing my phone number if you don’t delete your program,” he threatens. Sukuna’s red eyes briefly flick over to Gojo. “And why the fuck is he with you?” he finally asks, a defensive tone sneaking into his voice.
Satoru straightens in the driver’s seat, tilting his head towards you in mock sympathy. “She’s had a rough day. Thought she could use some fresh air—and maybe a twelve-pack of muffins.”
“Satoru,” you whisper, tugging at his sleeve in warning, but he doesn’t back down.
Sukuna’s gaze narrows, and for a second, you swear the temperature drops. You don’t even know what you were hoping for when you came here—anything to keep the door from closing all the way—but sitting here between the two of them feels ridiculous now. You’re exhausted and suddenly very aware of how absurd it all looks: your busted recon while your two not-boyfriends stare each other down at a Costco parking lot.
Sukuna breaks first, scoffing as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You two are insane,” he mutters under his breath.
Satoru shrugs. “Takes one to date her.”
You gasp, freezing up. “Hey!”
Satoru only laughs, cleanly reversing the car from its parking spot as Sukuna watches you go, the hard line of his jaw flexing.
You’re not even three minutes out when you get the text.
Meet me Sunday.
a/n: not expanded upon here but gojo’s strategy is to dickmatize you lmao
You finally look up to admire the very sizable bulge on Satoru’s jeans. You give Suguru one last kiss before settling your knees on the plush carpet and making your way over. It’s a small tease—the bare line of your back in your crawl, the way Satoru looks down at you from his seat. You set your warm hands on his thighs when you ask, slotting yourself between his spread knees like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Want me to take care of it?” It’s honest and the look he gives you is fond.
“Nah. It’s alright, sweetheart,” he answers casually. “You cry when you take cock, and I wouldn’t wanna ruin something so beautiful for our guests…” Satoru swipes at the stray lipstick on the corner of your mouth. His attention to your makeup suddenly reminds you that your favorite mascara doesn’t come waterproof.
“But I do miss your pretty little mouth,” he murmurs. There’s a small smile on your face when you turn to take his thumb in, eyes fluttering shut at his familiar taste and the heavy way he settles on your tongue. You suck languidly while they quietly admire you, Satoru’s other hand coming up to pet stray strands of hair away from your face. You pull back wetly with a parting kiss on his tip and stand—steadied by Suguru behind you—and offer a shaky hand to your other boyfriend, who cups it with both palms and raises it to his mouth.
You’re a little awe-struck when he stands, and for a minute, they both just hold you between them, Suguru’s nose at your nape with his arms around your waist and Satoru’s lips on your temple, a loose hold over the two of you. You’re grateful to be alive and to have them both. They’re untouchable now, but you still trace over the scars on Suguru’s chest and know how much of a privilege it is to be underneath Satoru’s infinity. So you breathe them in—the distinct smells of their cursed energies, yet beneath that—the detergent from Satoru’s laundry room, the vetiver on Suguru’s skin. Your shampoo on their hair. You squeeze them both one last time, turning this way and that, kissing here and there, before taking their hands and joining the crowd.
a ceremony for two
i. the day before the Gojo heir's genpuku
You carefully trim Satoru’s tresses, knees pressed into the cold bathroom tile as you straddle him. His hands rest lightly on your waist, grounding you, a strawberry lollipop tucked into the corner of his mouth. He looks bored, but you don’t miss the way his thumbs move—slow, lazy circles on your skin beneath the hem of the shirt he isn’t wearing (Don't want your fur all over me, you'd tease).
He’s been doing more of that lately. Casual touches. Quiet, stolen moments you let slip without protest.
It wasn’t your job to be doing this. But being the boy that he is, he asked you anyway.
You card your fingers through his unruly hair, murmur a soft done and smile. He pulls the lollipop free with a wet pop, clear blue eyes dragging over your mouth.
“Thanks,” your best friend says, voice low.
Then, without missing a beat, he leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of your smile—right as it begins to grow. Just this once, you think. You’ll give him this.
With uncharacteristic care, he slips his glasses off and blinks up at you, waiting. You don’t think. You just lean in and kiss him. Satoru exhales softly into your mouth, hands sliding up your sides as he guides you into his lap. You go willingly.
You don’t know what you’re doing—only that you want more. Your kisses trail along his jaw as his hands tighten at your waist, pulling you closer.
“Come with me,” he breathes. Let me protect you, he doesn't say.
Your gaze lingers on him—the nose you love, the lashes you envy, the mouth flushed from yours. The holder of the Six Eyes looks up at you, pleading.
“Yes,” you say.
You're late on the way to the ceremony, tripping over the borrowed kimono your mother had hastily wrapped around you that morning. The crowd is impossible to cut through; every sorcerer in Kyoto has seemed to gather for the elusive Gojo heir.
To them he's a god amongst men. To you, he's still just a boy. Your Satoru, after all these years.
You're nervous for some reason, like someone might brush too close, like this could all shatter from another failed attempt. But the crowd is buzzing with cursed energy from his clan, drowning out everyone else—including the high-ranking envoys from the other families. You turn the other cheek at a scowl directed at you, from some unpleasant Zenin boy a year younger than Satoru.
When you finally breach the crowd, you catch sight of him—the guest of honor—and bite back a laugh. The hair you’d carefully pressed down only hours ago is already everywhere, as if he couldn’t be bothered. Without his glasses, his desolate stare is even more striking.
You let a burst of your cursed energy reach him, light as a nudge to his cheek, but you find his eyes are already fixed on you. A ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.
You got this, you mouth. I love you.
notes: divider by @enchanthings :) I think I might make this into a series of drabbles.
.
P.S. I like to think that you later gave him his first undercut.
pairing: gojo x reader
mndi, 18+
contains: smut, angst, time travel fix-it, two gojos, double penetration, double penetration same hole, anal and ass play, size kink, spit as lube, slight subspace, rigging, collaring, blindfolding, cucking, scarred gojo satoru (mentally, physically, emotionally), clan head gojo (cue satoru being a control freak and a murderer), reader has cursed technique
summary: when gojo satoru escaped the prison realm, his worst fear came to life—the love of his life was gone, treated as a traitor by the jujutsu council in the event of the shibuya incident. heartbroken yet determined, he disposes of the higher ups, defeats the king of curses and stands at the helm of jujutsu society, saving his students and saving the world. but a chance discovery in the archives of the gojo estate leads him to another dimension—and a chance to change the past.
prologue
part i. the boyfriend continuum
part ii. convergence (preview)
part iii. superposition
author's note: my first gojo series! comments are reblogs are greatly appreciated. thank you for your support 🤍
dividers by cursed-carmine and strangergraphics
art by 3-aem
part ii to the boyfriend continuum (masterlist)
pairing: gojo x reader
mndi, 18+
contains: smut, your two gojos try to coexist 😔 (but they get stuck in a cycle of constantly trying to one up each other), increased reader lore, clan head gojo clanheading (includes murder), implied constant dp, cucking, blindfolded and bound honeymoon sex,...
word count: —
Satoru marries you a week after Gojo arrives, claiming not to be outdone by his own self, cornering a fourteen-year-old Megumi for the ring Satoru taught him to hide in a Zen’in shadow dimension, coming down on one knee in your office that night after an hour of pacing back and forth (with his older self of all people to witness his nerves), and casually informing you that he had technically already told his staff to prepare your bridal kimonos beforehand. You gave him a light scolding for that, but you were ecstatic anyway, slipping on the ring as he watched with rapt attention, then his gaze turning to you as you slowly undid your blouse with a slow, clandestine smile.
You two came home late, teleporting to find Gojo sprawled out on the couch, your home bathed in soft candlelight and rose petals artfully placed everywhere, your favorite scent of his misted in the air, and gift boxes of different sizes from your preferred shops laid out on the floor as if it was Christmas, Valentine’s, and your birthday all at once.
“This idiot sent me to do errands,” he had drawled, his hand moving to pat his thigh and throwing you a knowing smirk. “Why don’t you show Daddy what he got you, baby?” And you had squealed, launching yourself at him before Satoru could stop you, his pout nevertheless softening when you pull up your hand, the blue diamond of your ring glinting even in the low light.
You kept him a secret with your talismans, dipping your brush into cursed ink in the mornings and at bedtime, soft, delicate strokes against his skin as he lifts his shirt up, holding onto your non-working hand to siphon his energy into your work. You always stare a little longer, brush a little all over, and press kisses along the hard planes of his skin as the ink dries.
You do this too the morning of your wedding as Satoru gets ready at the estate. It keeps him invisible for a while, though it’s not your doing that eventually let things slip.
