.ೃ࿔*:･ Riding Satoru Gojo for the first time! | porn w no plot aka straight up smut, 18+ minors do not engage/interact!
Satoru can't believe you can take his entire cock!
Like, down to the hilt. He's grown so used to being too big for the women he sleeps with that he knows to expect it.
But then you come along, straddling his lap and sinking down, down, down onto his thick length until your ass rests flush against his thighs, whimpering at the overwhelming fullness once you reach the base. As your walls flutter around him, he genuinely considers proposing on the spot.
Satoru doesn't know where to keep his eyes; on how your tight cunt stretches so desperately around him, and the creamy ring already forming at the base of his cock?
Or maybe on your round tits, watching them bounce up and down as you make up the courage to slowly ride him, hips lifting and lowering cautiously.
His favorite sight though, without a doubt, is that pretty face of yours contorted in pleasure; eyes rolled back and teeth biting down hard on your bottom lip in an unsuccessful attempt to contain your outright pornographic whines as you pick up your pace, bouncing on him harder and faster.
He watches intently with his large hands grabbing firmly onto your thighs, your ass, your waist. Anywhere he can touch you. His head leans into your ear, close enough that you can hear his whispered praise. "Jus' like that, baby. Fuck yeah."
And when your movements stall as you clench around him, head thrown back while you ride out the high of your first orgasm, he doesn't waste a moment before picking up where you left off, hips bucking as he thrusts his cock into you instead.
With him in control, his tip reaches even further inside of you, thumping your g-spot with every stroke and making you scream his name. He doesn't hold back either, not now that he knows you can take it. His hands grab your ass, fingers indenting flesh as he guides your hips all the way up before slamming them back down in time with his primal thrusts.
And he watches in awe—mouth agape and staring reverently through half-lidded baby blue eyes as he feels his own release building, and wills his body to hold on a bit longer so as to savor every second spent watching you ride him.
When your dainty hand instinctively flies to your neglected, needy clit, Satoru grabs your wrist, pinning it to his chest while his other hand takes over. He rubs slow, precise circles, the cadence at odds with the feverish pace of his hips thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy.
When he can't hold out any longer, he finishes with his head buried in the crook of your neck, groaning your name into your skin as his cock twitches deep inside of you, firing off thick white ropes of cum. You're right there with him, clenching impossibly tight around him while your body shudders and your nails press crescents into his pale skin.
But one look at you, completely fucked out yet still gazing hungrily at him through fluttering lashes, mischief written all over your face—one look's all it takes for him to imagine you sprawled out under him, on your knees for him, bent over every surface in his lofty house.
Before he can hold himself back, Satoru's kissing you again, white lashes fluttering with excitement when your hands thread through his hair and you kiss him back with just as much zeal before pulling away to ask, "c'mere baby, wanna see if your throat can take all of me too?"
᭡୧ synopsis: in which your brother’s best friend, satoru gojo has spent years keeping his distance, treating you like the little sister he’s supposed to protect. but when your brother leaves town and asks him to “keep an eye on you,” the careful line he’s been walking finally starts to crack. what was meant to be an innocent visit to check on you quickly turns into something forbidden and filthy, something neither of you can walk away from anymore.
᭡୧ pairings: brother’s best friend!satoru x fem!reader
᭡୧ c. warnings: heavy yearning, heavy sexu-al tension (like super heavy!), emotional restraints, dry hum-ping, protected se-x, ti-ts play, sp-it play (?), mutual pining, did i say heavy se-xual tension? slight size kink, overstim, thigh rid-ing, we have an aftercare this time yayyyy! — word count: 7.2k+
note: heavily unedited, kinda mismatched timeline so pls lmk what should be fixed. — art credit to the right owner! idk their name so pls lmk as well.
you’ve known satoru gojo since you were twelve years old and he was fourteen, the loud, white-haired boy your older brother dragged home after school like a stray cat he refused to leave behind.
back then satoru was all gangly limbs and bright blue eyes, always stealing your snacks and letting you ride on his shoulders when your brother got tired of carrying you. the three of you became a little unite almost instantly. movie nights on the living room floor, summer afternoons at the park, late-night video games where satoru would let you win just to watch you cheer.
your brother was officially his best friend, but somewhere along the line the lines blurred.
you were never sure if satoru was your brother’s best friend or yours. he was just… satoru. the constant reminder in your life who knew how you liked your ice cream and remembered your favorite color even when you changed it every month.
ten years passed and the dynamic shifted without anyone noticing at first. you grew up, and growing up consisted of changes.
satoru grew taller, broader, more dangerously handsome with that lazy grin that made girls at school blush. but you stayed the little sister in everyone’s eyes, the one who tagged along behind her brother and his best friend, the one who fell asleep on the couch between them during horror movies, the one satoru would tuck a blanket over with gentle hands while your brother snored on the other side.
everyone else thought like that but satoru. satoru noticed the changes. he noticed the way your legs got longer, the way your laugh got softer and feminine, the way your body filled out in ways that made his throat tight and his thoughts guilty. he told himself it was nothing. you were his best friend’s little sister, which meant you’re off-limits. and by off-limits, you’re a forbidden fruit he wasn’t allowed to even look at for too long or he would rot you with his dirty thoughts.
nobody sensed how he started pulling away in small ways after sometime. longer gaps between visits, fewer sleepovers, more excuses about being busy with college and then with work. but he never stayed away completely. satoru couldn’t.
every time he saw you he felt that familiar pull, the way his chest tightened when you smiled at him like he hung the moon for you. the way his cock would twitch traitorously when you wore those tiny shorts around the house in the summer every time he came over and god, he hated himself for it because right after he’s done, he would go home after and jerk off in the shower with his jaw clenched, whispering your name like a curse while hot water beat down on his back, telling himself it was the last time.
it was never the last time.
now you’re twenty-two and he’s twenty-eight. your brother still treats you like the kid who used to beg for piggyback rides. satoru still calls you “boogers” sometimes, but the word tastes bitter on his tongue now.
the three of you still hang out, still have movie nights from time to time since satoru could never say no to your asking, he joins your family and still act like nothing has changed. but everything has. satoru can barely look at you without feeling the weight of all those years of wanting, yearning. he watches the way you move around the kitchen in your sleep shorts when you’re getting snacks ready for the movies, the way your t-shirt rides up when you reach for something on the top shelf, the way you laugh at his stupid jokes and rest your head on his shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
every innocent touch feels like torture. every time your thigh brushes his on the couch he has to fight the urge to pull you into his lap and show you exactly what you do to him.
this time your brother is out of town this weekend for a work trip he couldn’t get out of.
he left satoru with the spare key and the casual instruction to “keep an eye on her.” satoru laughed it off on the phone, responding with a choked ‘yeah, ‘course, i got you man.’ but the second he hung up his mind was already spinning. he told himself he’d just check in once, maybe bring some takeout, make sure you weren’t lonely and nothing more.
but fuck was he wrong, cause satoru only lasted exactly four hours before your text came through:
“movie night? the new horror one just dropped. brother’s gone so no one to complain about the jump scares :)”
he stared at the message for ten full minutes. then that’s when he grabbed his keys, all thoughts starting to get pumped to his dick.
when he knocks on your door it’s a little after ten. you open it wearing your usual oversized, small ribbons printed t-shirt and those damn cotton shorts that have haunted his dreams for years. your skin is soft under the radiating light from the porch, face bare, and you smile at him like he’s the best part of your night.
shit. satoru feels his stomach drop.
“hey, you came,” you say, stepping aside to let him in. your voice is casual, warm, the kind of voice that used to make him feel safe and now makes his cock stir in his sweatpants.
“couldn’t let you watch horror alone,” he replies, forcing that tired, loose grin. he holds up the bag of snacks like a peace offering. “brought the good stuff.”
you laugh and it hits him straight in the chest. he follows you to the living room, trying not to stare at the way the hem of your shorts teases him in front of him. the fabric riding up with every step. the tv is already on, lights dimmed, blankets piled on the couch. you settle in your usual spot, patting the cushion beside you. satoru sits, puts the snacks down onto the coffee table, leaving what he hopes is a respectful distance, but you immediately scoot closer, tucking your legs under you and leaning your head against his shoulder like always.
maybe your nickname was not supposed to be boogers but dumbass cause you don’t seem to take sign on how you’re making it hard for him to stay normal and sane. or so he thought.
the movie starts. the opening credits roll. satoru tries to focus on the screen. he really does. but all he can feel is the warmth of your body against his side, the soft press of your bare thigh against his, the faint vanilla scent of your shampoo. his hand rests on the back of the couch, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder when he shifts.
every innocent touch feels loaded tonight. the house is too quiet without your brother’s loud commentary. it’s just you and him and years of unspoken tension hanging heavy in the dark.
halfway through the first act you stretch, arms lifting above your head, shirt riding up to show a strip of soft stomach. satoru’s eyes flick down before he can stop them, fingers twitching not to touch you and when you settle again your leg presses fully against his. he doesn’t move away. instead his fingers brush your shoulder again, slower this time, thumb stroking once along your skin.
“cold?” he asks, voice quieter than he means.
you shake your head, tilting your face up to look at him. your eyes are soft in the glow of the tv. “no. just getting comfortable.”
he swallows hard. his hand drops from the couch to rest lightly on your upper arm, thumb still stroking slow circles. the touch is supposed to be casual but it isn’t. at least that’s what satoru knows.
the movie keeps playing but the man sitting next to you is not really watching anymore. the air between you feels thicker, warmer, charged with everything you’ve both been pretending doesn’t exist for years.
satoru’s jaw clenches. he can feel his cock starting to thicken in his sweatpants, the traitorous heat building low in his gut. he tells himself to stop. he tells himself you’re his best friend’s little sister. he tells himself a lot of things.
you shift again, turning slightly so your knee brushes his thigh. and lord knows how he’s struggling not to make a sound, especially when your voice is barely above a whisper when you speak.
“satoru?”
he looks down at you, blue eyes dark in the low light. “yeah?”
you bite your lip, just for a second, and the small movement sends another rush of blood straight to his cock.
“you’ve been really quiet tonight.”
fuck.
he forces a laugh, but it comes out strained. “am i?” he asks. “just focused on the movie.” his reply doesn’t satisfy you and you don’t look convinced so your hand rests lightly on his chest, right over his heart. “liar.” you call him out.
liar…
the sting of the word is heavy because satoru is not the only one suffering alone here, you’re a liar as well. and you’re pretending none of this is eating you alive when that’s exactly how it’s been for you since satoru came to your house.
you’ve been stiff as a board since the moment you sat down, even though you’re trying so hard to act normal. you can feel it in the way his shoulder has gone tight under your cheek, the way his breathing isn’t quite as steady as usual, the way his long fingers keep flexing against the couch like he doesn’t know what to do with them.
the tv flickers soft blue light across both of you, painting shadows over his sharp jaw and the faint flush creeping up his neck, but you’re not watching the movie anymore. you’re watching him, noticing every detail.
your hand stays light on his chest, right over his heart, and you can feel how fast it’s beating under your palm. thump-thump-thump, way too quick for someone who’s supposedly just chilling on the couch. you shift a little closer, letting your bare thigh press more firmly against his — testing water — and that’s when you notice it full.
the soft, heavy bulge under the dark blue-black sweatpants he’s wearing. it’s not fully hard yet, but it’s definitely there, thickening slowly against the loose fabric, the outline just visible every time the tv screen flashes brighter. your stomach flips, heat pooling low between your legs because you did that. you’re doing that to him right now, just by sitting here in your tiny shorts with your head on his shoulder like you always have.
the tension sits thick and heavy between you, wrapping around every small movement. every time you breathe, your chest brushes his arm.
every time he shifts, his thigh presses harder against yours. the air feels warmer than it should, like the room itself is holding its breath along with both of you. you can smell his cologne mixed with the faint mint from his gum, and underneath it all something warmer, something that makes your mouth water.
satoru’s hand on your upper arm hasn’t stopped moving. his thumb keeps stroking those slow, careful circles, but now each pass feels heavier, more deliberate, like he’s fighting the urge to slide his whole palm down your skin.
you tilt your head up a little more, letting your breath fan across the side of his neck. his jaw clenches. you watch the muscle jump, watch the way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. the bulge in his sweatpants twitches again, growing thicker, the fabric starting to tent just enough that you can see the clear shape of him.
your own body reacts instantly, a warm rush between your thighs, your nipples tightening under the thin t-shirt. you’re suddenly aware of how little you’re wearing, how your shorts exposed so much skin the bottom curve of your ass is almost showing, how your shirt keeps slipping off one shoulder no matter how many times you fix it.
satoru’s fingers tighten on your arm for half a second before he forces them to relax. his breathing has gone shallow. you can feel the heat pouring off him, the way his thigh muscles are locked tight under your leg. the movie keeps playing, some girl screaming on screen, but none of you flinch and the only sound that matters is the quiet hitch in his breath when your knee accidentally nudges higher up his leg, brushing right against the side of that growing bulge.
he doesn’t pull away. he stays perfectly still, like moving even an inch might break whatever fragile control he has left.
you bite your lip, heart hammering so loud you’re sure he can hear it. the flush on your neck is spreading, warm and prickly, and a tiny bead of sweat is already forming at the small of your back. you feel sticky and hot and aching, and all you’ve done is sit here with your head on his shoulder.
the years of quiet ‘wanting’ press in harder tonight, sharper because your brother isn’t here to act as a buffer. it’s just you and satoru and the heavy, suffocating knowledge that you’re both thinking about the same thing.
satoru clears his throat suddenly, the sound rough and forced. he shifts, moving his arm from around you, and stands up in one quick motion. his sweatpants do nothing to hide how hard he is now, the thick outline pressing obviously against the front, the fabric stretched tight. he keeps his back half-turned to you like that will somehow fix it.
“uh… i need some water,” he mutters, voice low and strained. “or a coke. something cold.”
you sit up slowly, fixing your shirt so it covers your shoulder again, but it doesn’t help much. your skin feels too warm, a light sheen of sweat already making the back of your neck sticky. your cheeks are flushed, you can feel the heat in them, and between your legs you’re starting to get embarrassingly wet, the thin cotton of your panties clinging to you. you swallow, trying to sound normal even though your voice comes out a little breathy.
“oh yeah, okay. it’s in the fridge. you know your way around.”
satoru nods once, still not fully facing you, and heads toward the kitchen. his shoulders are stiff, steps a little too deliberate, like he’s forcing himself to put distance between you. you stay on the couch, legs pressed together, heart still racing and satoru disappears into the kitchen.
you stay on the couch, legs pressed tight together, trying to calm the flutter between your thighs. the movie is still playing but the sound feels distant, like it’s happening in another room. you can hear him open the fridge, the soft clink of a can, the quiet hiss when he cracks it open. a few seconds later he walks back in, coke in one hand, the other rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to shake something off.
he’s too distracted to consider bringing you one.
he looks at you for a long moment before he sits down again, this time leaving a little more space between your bodies but it doesn’t help.
the air still feels charged, heavy with everything neither of you has said out loud. you notice the way his sweatpants still sit a little awkwardly, the thick line of his cock not fully softened, pressing against the fabric every time he shifts, manspread awkwardly.
your own skin is warm and sticky, a faint sheen of sweat on your neck and between your breasts, your nipples tight and sensitive under the thin t-shirt.
satoru takes a long sip of the coke, throat working, then sets the can on the coffee table. when he leans back against the couch his arm brushes yours again, and this time he doesn’t pull away. his fingers find your shoulder once more, but instead of the casual thumb strokes from before, his whole palm settles there, warm and heavy.
it seems he’s calmed a bit.. which means you’re the one who’s suffering hundred percent.
“you okay?” he asks, voice low, a little rough around the edges.
you nod, but it feels like a lie. “yeah… just warm in here.”
his eyes flick down to the flushed skin of your neck, then lower to where your shirt has slipped off your shoulder again. he doesn’t say anything, but his thumb starts brushing the bare skin near your collarbone. the touch is slow, almost absent, but it sends heat straight down your spine. you shift like you’re under a spell without thinking, your bare thigh sliding against his again, and this time your knee nudges right against the side of his cock through the sweatpants.
satoru inhales sharply. his hand slides from your shoulder down your arm, stopping at your wrist. his thumb presses lightly against your pulse point, feeling how fast your heart is racing.
“you’re shaking,” he murmurs.
“so are you,” you whisper back.
the only light flickering on both of you is the glow from the tv, casting soft blue and white across both of you. satoru turns his head to look at you fully, blue eyes dark and conflicted, pupils blown wide as if he’s high. his free hand comes up, hesitating for half a second before he cups the side of your face, thumb brushing your lower lip.
“this is a bad idea,” he says, eyes dancing over your lips but he doesn’t sound convinced. his voice is thick, breath warm against your mouth.
“then why does it feel so good?” you have no idea how words are forming in your mouth when your brain disconnected from your tongue a long time ago, and the only option you have is leaning into his touch.
he lets out a quiet, broken sound, half groan, half sigh. his thumb presses a little harder against your lip, parting it slightly. you part your lips more, letting the tip of his thumb slip just inside, brushing against your tongue. satoru’s eyes flutter for a second, jaw tight.
“fuck… you’re killing me.”
you suck gently on his thumb, just enough to make his breath hitch. his other hand slides down to your waist, gripping the fabric of your shirt like he’s anchoring himself. the tension snaps slowly, like a rubber band stretching thinner and thinner until it finally gives.
satoru pulls his thumb from your mouth with a wet sound and replaces it with his lips. the kiss starts soft, almost careful, lips sliding together warm and slow. but the second you make a small needy sound in the back of your throat he deepens it, tongue licking into your mouth, hot and hungry. years of holding back pour into that kiss, all the stolen glances, all the guilty nights in the shower, all the times he told himself no.
his hands slide down to your hips, gripping firmly as he pulls you sideways until you’re straddling one of his thick thighs. the moment your core settles over the hard muscle you both moan quietly into the kiss. your soaked panties press right against his leg, the thin cotton already clinging to your folds from how wet you are. satoru’s fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass, guiding you into a slow, rolling grind.
you start moving. slow, deliberate rocks of your hips that drag your swollen clit along the firm muscle of his thigh. every pass makes the fabric of your shorts and panties rub against you, the friction hot and slick and perfect. each roll pushes more wetness out of you, soaking the cotton until it clings transparently to your pussy. satoru groans low in his chest when he feels the damp heat spreading across his thigh, his cock twitching hard in his sweatpants, the thick head nudging against your inner thigh with every grind.
he breaks the kiss with a wet sound, lips shiny, breathing ragged. his mouth trails down your neck, sucking softly at the sensitive skin, then lower, until his lips brush over your collarbone. when he reaches your chest he doesn’t push your shirt up. instead he closes his mouth around one of your pebbled nipples right through the thin fabric.
the sensation is immediate and filthy. his tongue swirls slow and heavy over the stiff peak, soaking the cotton instantly. warm spit seeps through the material, making it cling to your breast, turning the white fabric translucent.
he sucks gently at first, then harder, pulling your nipple deeper into his mouth while his tongue flicks fast and wet. the wet patch grows, dark and shiny, the outline of your hard nipple completely visible through the soaked shirt. every pull of his mouth sends sharp sparks straight to your clit, making your hips roll faster against his thigh.
“mmh… fuck,” he groans against your chest, the vibration traveling through the damp fabric. “look at you. letting me cover you with my spit. your body’s so fucking readyfor me already, yeah?”
he switches to the other nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth with a wet, obscene sound. more drool collects from the corners of his lips, smearing down the front of your shirt in shiny trails, soaking the fabric until both your tits are glistening and see-through. the cool air hits the wet patches and makes your nipples ache even more, stiff and sensitive under his relentless mouth. he keeps sucking noisily, alternating between slow, deep pulls and quick flicks of his tongue, you could swear his spit is probably dripping down your stomach now, making the front of your shirt stick to your skin.
you’re grinding harder, hips rolling in needy little circles, clit dragging over his thigh with every movement. the friction is slick and constant, your soaked panties sliding against the hard muscle, the wet sounds of fabric rubbing together mixing with the filthy noises his mouth makes on your chest. your hands are in his white hair, tugging gently, soft whimpers and gasps spilling from your lips every time he sucks particularly hard.
satoru’s cock is throbbing visibly in his sweatpants, the thick ridge pressing insistently against your inner thigh, leaking enough that a small dark spot has formed at the front. every time you grind forward the head of his cock nudges closer to your core, teasing you both with how close he is to where you both desperately want him to be.
he pulls back just enough to look at the mess he’s made. your shirt is completely ruined, plastered transparently to your tits, nipples dark and shiny with his spit, little droplets still sliding down your stomach. his eyes are heavy-lidded, breathing ragged, lips swollen and wet.
“so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, voice rough and low. “y’know how i’ve been dreaming about marking you up like this for years? look how filthy i got you… your brother will fuck me up.”
he leans in again, mouth latching back onto your nipple through the drenched fabric, sucking harder while his hands grip your ass tighter, helping you grind faster against him. the wet, messy sounds fill the room — his mouth sucking noisily, your slick panties sliding over his thigh, both of you breathing hard and shaky.
the tension is thick and suffocating, every slow grind and every wet kiss pushing you both closer to the edge without either of you saying it out loud yet.
after what feels like euphorically forever, satoru pulls back from your chest with a wet pop, lips shiny and swollen, eyes heavy as he looks at the absolute mess he’s made of your shirt.
his breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling fast under his hoodie, and for a second he just stares at you like he can’t believe this is real. then his hand slips down, fingers dipping into the pocket of his sweatpants, and he pulls out a small foil packet. the condom glints under the dim light, and you raise a brow, lips parting in quiet surprise.
he catches the look and just shrugs, a lazy, almost sheepish tilt of his shoulders, causing your cheeks flushing darker. “had to,” he mutters, voice low and rough, like the words are being dragged out of him. “couldn’t risk it. not with you.”
you let out a soft, cheeky laugh, the sound breathy and teasing even though your heart is hammering. “you’ve always wanted to fuck me, huh?”
satoru’s brows knit together instantly, that familiar stern little frown pulling at his face, but his eyes stay dark and hungry. “that’s a vulgar word, boogers,” he says, the nickname slipping out like habit, but there’s no real bite to it. he leans in and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to the tip of your nose, lips brushing there gently before he pulls back just enough to look at you again. “i want to make you feel good. that’s all.”
you groan, half playful, half frustrated, and swat your hand lightly against his chest. “stop calling me boogers, toru. seriously!”
he just hums, low and warm, the sound vibrating through his chest as his hands slide to your hips. he helps lift you a little higher on your knees, giving himself room, and shoves his sweatpants and briefs down in one smooth motion. they pool around his calves, leaving his thick cock springing free, heavy and flushed, the head already glistening.
he tears the foil packet open with his teeth, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet room, and the sweet strawberry scent of the condom fills the small space between your bodies, fruity and almost too innocent for how filthy this feels.
satoru rolls it down his girthy tip first, jaw tightening as the latex stretches over him. a soft, broken whimper slips out of him when the cool material slides along his sensitive head, his hips twitching once before he rolls it all the way to the base with steady fingers. the condom sits snug, shiny and strawberry-sweet, the faint pink tint of it catching the tv light. he looks up at you then, eyes dark and solemn, waiting.
his hands move to your shorts and panties next, hooking into the waistband and sliding them down your thighs together in one slow tug.
you lift your hips to help, and the soaked fabric peels away from your pussy with a wet sound, leaving you completely bare from the waist down. he doesn’t stop there. his fingers catch the hem of your spit-drenched shirt and peel it up and off, tossing it somewhere on the floor. now you’re completely naked in his lap, skin flushed and glowing under the flickering light, tits still shiny with his dirty work, pussy glistening and swollen from all the grinding.
satoru is still mostly dressed, only his hoodie on, sweatpants and briefs shoved down to his calves, the contrast making everything feel even unholy. he licks a bold stripe across his palm, tongue dragging slow and wet, then reaches between you and swipes the slick hand over your folds. the touch is warm and deliberate, fingers spreading your wetness, thumb brushing your clit once before he grips the base of his cock and guides the thick, condom-covered head to your entrance.
he presses in slow, so slow, the blunt tip stretching you open inch by careful inch. his brows knit tight with concentration, eyes locked on your face, watching for any flicker of pain or discomfort. you feel every thick ridge as he sinks deeper, the stretch burning sweet and full, your walls fluttering around him.
your eyes start to haze, lashes fluttering, jaw going slack as the overwhelming sensation of being filled by him hits you. your breathing stutters, lips parted on a silent gasp, completely detached for a moment while your body adjusts to the heavy, girthy length pushing inside.
satoru knew you were small compared to him but never did he think you’d be struggling to fit his fat cock in your tight cunt this much.
satoru stays perfectly still once he bottoms out, hips flush against yours, breathing hard through his nose. his hands grip your waist tight, thumbs stroking soothing circles on your skin as he waits, watching the way your eyes glaze over and your jaw hangs open. the strawberry scent mixes with the sharp smell of your arousal, the room quiet except for the low hum of the credit scene of the horror movie and the sound of both of you trying to breathe through the intensity.
“can i move?” he asks, voice low and calculated, almost a whisper, like he’s afraid to break the moment. his brows are still knitted, waiting for any sign from you.
you can’t find words right away. instead you just tap his shoulder once, twice, a small, mute signal that you’re okay, that you want this. satoru exhales shakily, relief and hunger mixing in the sound, and he starts to move.
at first it’s slow, careful rolls of his hips that drag his thick cock along your walls, the stretch burning so good it makes your breath hitch. you start grinding down to meet him, hips rolling in small, needy circles, your slick coating the base of his cock and smearing messily over the soft, dark trail of hair that runs from his navel down to where he disappears inside you. every grind leaves a shiny trail of your wetness glistening on his skin, the wet sounds squelching in the quiet room.
you’re vocal in little bursts, whispers of his name slipping out between shaky breaths. “satoru… toru…” the words are breathy, almost reverent, filling the living room like a secret. your hands slide up his hoodie, fingers digging into his chest as you grind harder, chasing the friction, the fullness, the way he fills you so completely.
“too big.. you’re– toru, fuuuck,” you cry out.
satoru leans back against the couch, arms dropping to his sides for a moment, face going almost numb with pleasure. his blue eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, white hair messy and falling into his face as he watches you ride him. he looks completely under your spell, like the sight of you naked and grinding on his cock has short-circuited his brain. the curve of his cock jerks inside you when you desperately grab his hand and bring it to your tits, pressing his palm against the soft, post spit-slick flesh.
that seems to snap him back. his face shifts from dazed to focused in an instant, intention clear in the way his jaw tightens. he wants to make you feel good. that’s all he cares about right now.
“i got you, yeah? ‘m here.”
he braces himself, planting his heels firmly on the floor, one arm wrapping tight around your hips while the other hand stays on your breast, fingers tweaking and rolling your nipple between them. then he starts fucking up into you. the first thrust is deep and powerful, hips snapping up so his cock drives into you harder, the angle perfect, the thick head rubbing right against that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision spark.
“that’s it, baby,” he murmurs, voice wrecked but steady, focused entirely on you. “feel good? tell me if it’s too much.”
he sets a rhythm, slow at first but building, each upward thrust meeting your downward grind, the wet slap of skin on skin growing louder. his arm around your hips keeps you steady, guiding you, while his fingers keep playing with your nipple, pinching and tugging just enough to send sparks straight to your clit. every time he bottoms out you whimper his name again, softer, breathier, your slick continuing to smear over his happy trail and the base of his cock, making everything messy and shiny.
satoru’s eyes never leave your face. he watches every twitch of your expression, every time your lips part on a moan, every time your eyes flutter. his whole focus is on you, on making sure every thrust feels perfect, on drawing out those little whispers of his name until they turn into broken cries. he fucks up into you with controlled power, the condom sliding slickly inside your soaked pussy, sweat mixing with the sharp smell of sex.
he leans forward slightly, mouth finding your other nipple again, sucking it into his mouth through the remnants of dried spit still on your skin, tongue swirling while he keeps thrusting. the dual sensation — his cock dragging inside you and his mouth on your breast — makes your back arch, a louder moan spilling out this time.
“good girl,” he breathes against your wet skin, voice low and praising. “taking me so well. just let me make you feel good, yeah? that’s all i want.”
his hips keep snapping up, steady and deep, the arm around your waist holding you down so you take every inch while his fingers keep working your nipple and his mouth keeps sucking the other. the living room fills with the wet sounds of him fucking into you, your soft whispers of his name, and the heavy breathing of two people who have waited years for this exact moment.
satoru keeps that steady, deep rhythm, hips rolling up into you with controlled power while his mouth stays busy on your tits.
every upward thrust drags his thick, condom-covered cock along your walls, the head catching perfectly against that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. his arm around your waist holds you down on his cock, the wet slap of skin meeting skin growing louder, messier, your slick continuing to smear over his happy trail and the base of his cock until the dark hair glistens with it.
he switches between sucking one nipple and tweaking the other with his fingers, tongue swirling slow and wet, spit dripping down your chest in shiny trails that catch the flickering tv light.
you’re riding him but barely, your hips grinding in small, desperate circles while he does most of the work, fucking up into you with deep, purposeful strokes that make your breath hitch every single time he bottoms out. your hands clutch at his hoodie, nails digging into the fabric as soft, broken whispers of his name keep slipping out — “toru… satoru…” — the fruity scent of the condom mixes with the sharp smell of sex, filling the dark living room until it’s all you can breathe.
your legs start to twitch first. the muscles in your thighs quiver against his sides, small, uncontrollable tremors that travel down to your calves.
satoru notices immediately. his eyes flick down, watching the way your knees shake beside his hips, the subtle way your body is starting to tighten and flutter around him. a low, knowing hum vibrates in his chest and he shifts beneath you, sliding one arm under the knee closest to him. with a smooth, effortless motion he hooks it up and presses it toward your chest, folding you open even wider while you’re still on top of him.
the new angle spreads you so much more, your pussy stretching tighter around his cock, the head dragging harder against that perfect spot with every thrust.
you gasp sharply, the sound cracking in the back of your throat as the deeper penetration hits you all at once. satoru’s other arm stays banded around your waist, holding you steady, and now he’s fully in control even though you’re on top. he fucks up into you with stronger, deeper strokes, hips snapping with purpose, the wet squelch of your soaked pussy taking him echoing louder in the quiet room.
“c’mon, you’re gonna bless me, baby?” he murmurs against your neck, voice rough and focused. “come on my cock, there you go. you just gotta feel it.”
your riding turns sloppy, hips stuttering as the pressure builds fast and overwhelming. your legs tremble harder, the one he’s holding to your chest shaking visibly. your walls start to flutter and clench around him in tight, rhythmic pulses, your slick gushing out around the base of his cock with every thrust. satoru groans low when he feels it, but he doesn’t slow down. he keeps driving up into you, steady and relentless, the arm under your knee keeping you spread wide and open for him.
you come hard.
your whole body folds forward suddenly, chest pressing against his as a broken, whining cry tears from your throat, your mouth is open and breathing straight into his mouth. your pussy clamps down around his cock in strong, pulsing waves, gushing wet and hot around him even through the condom. tears slip down your flushed cheeks, eyes squeezing shut while you sob his name in soft, overwhelmed whimpers — “toru… fuck, toru…” — your hips jerking and twitching uncontrollably as the orgasm crashes through you.
satoru keeps fucking you through it, slower now but still deep, drawing out every pulse and every shaky sob. his hand on your waist rubs soothing circles while the other keeps your leg folded to your chest, holding you open so he can feel every flutter and gush. he presses soft kisses to your temple, your wet cheek, murmuring quiet praise against your skin as you tremble and cry in his lap, completely spent and folded against him.
tsatoru holds you close through the last trembling waves of your orgasm, his cock still buried deep inside your fluttering pussy. he presses gentle kisses to your damp temple then your flushed cheek, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back while you come down.
“i’m.. fuck, you’re so good to me.” the way he grunts those words out shows you he’s not done yet.
his grip tightens on your waist and under your knee, and he starts fucking up into you again — deeper than you thought was possible. each thrust is slow, powerful, and deliberate, driving his thick cock so far inside you that you swear you can feel him in your stomach.
the new angle has the head of his cock pressing right against that spot with every upward snap of his hips, stretching you open wider, filling you fuller than you’ve ever been filled. the wet, filthy sounds of him plunging deep into your soaked pussy echo in the quiet living room, your slick leaking out around the base of his cock and dripping down his balls with every thrust.
“shit… so deep,” he groans against your ear, voice wrecked and low. “can you feel me, baby? feel how deep i’m getting? that’s it… take every inch.”
he fucks you with long, grinding strokes, hips rolling up hard and steady, the arm under your knee keeping you folded and spread so he can bury himself to the hilt every single time. your body jolts with each thrust, tits bouncing against his chest, soft cries and whimpers spilling from your mouth as the overstimulation turns into another building wave of pleasure.
satoru’s breathing grows ragged, his thrusts turning sharper, more desperate, the slap of skin on skin getting louder as he chases his own release.
“gonna come,” he pants, forehead pressed to yours, blue eyes dark and hazy. “gonna fill you up… fuck, you feel too good.”
he drives in deep one last time, hips stuttering as he buries himself as far as he can go.
“fuuuck,” a low, broken groan tears from his throat as he comes hard, cock pulsing thick and hot inside the condom while he grinds against you, drawing out every last spurt. his whole body trembles under you, arms locked tight around your frame as he empties himself, the strawberry-scented latex stretching with every heavy pulse.
for a long moment the only sounds are your shaky breathing and his quiet groans. he stays buried deep inside you, holding you close, the leg he had hooked to your chest gently lowered back down so you can relax against him. slowly, carefully, he pulls out, tying off the condom and setting it aside before he gathers you fully into his arms.
satoru shifts so you’re both lying on the couch, your smaller body draped over his chest, his hoodie soft against your bare skin. he pulls the blanket from the back of the couch (you didn’t notice that was there from the beginning.) over both of you, tucking it gently around your shoulders. one hand strokes slow, soothing lines up and down your back, the other cradling the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair.
“you okay?” he murmurs, voice soft and rough at the same time. he presses a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips — gentle, lingering kisses that feel like apologies and promises all at once. “did i hurt you? was it too much?”
you shake your head against his chest, still catching your breath, and he hums in quiet relief. he keeps touching you. slow strokes along your spine, gentle kisses to your shoulder, his palm rubbing warm circles over your lower back where you’re still a little sore. every touch is careful, tender, like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel in his arms now that the line has finally been crossed.
and now that his time with you is very limited. by limited:
“your brother told me to keep an eye on you,” the topic feels heavy already when he says it after a while, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips as he looks down at you. his fingers keep tracing lazy patterns on your skin. “if this is what it takes… so be it.”
so be the risk of making the person, his person whom he lov—
realization hits and splashes on satoru like a bucket filled with water and ice. satoru loves. satoru loves you. he is in love, satoru loves someone who is a very much forbidden person.
he pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around you fully, the thought of your brother finding what he did to you can be stressed over for later, what matters now is your naked body tucked safely against his mostly-clothed one. the tv is still playing a new trailer for next movie faintly in the background, completely ignored.
satoru holds you like that for a long time — warm, steady, protective — pressing soft kisses to wherever his lips can reach, murmuring quiet praises and gentle nonsense until your breathing evens out and your eyes start to drift shut.
“toru, do you think this is okay?” your voice is muffled with how you’re both tangled together. he doesn’t reply at first so you take it as a sign to continue. “what are we gonna do after this? what if my brot—”
“i’ve got you,” he cuts you off with a whisper against your hair, one last kiss pressed to the top of your head. “always have and nothing will happen, just take some rest and we’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
he can feel your body relaxing the moment he says that and satoru smiles a little, his heart swelling of fonding.
the living room feels smaller and warmer now, the weight of years of tension finally settling into something softer, something real, as satoru keeps holding you close under the blanket, his hand never stopping its gentle strokes along your back before he himself is dozing off from reality.
feeling too tired from his post nut session his brain is blank.
guys am i made for long fics or should i just stick to my regular short drabbles/blurbs? I WANT TO KNOW!
pairing: jjk men x f!reader | Gojo, Nanami, Itadori, Megumi, Toji, Sukuna
synopsis: his reaction when you tell him you're leaving/going back home when he thought you were sleeping over! although the sukuna one is a bit different (this was inspired by that one tiktok trend!)
cw: minor cussing (just once), petnames, fluff, pre-established relationship for all except Sukuna, heian era Sukuna, not historically accurate in any way lol
wc: around 700-900 each
masterlist
જ⁀➴ Satoru Gojo .ᐟ
You and your boyfriend were lying on the ridiculously large and comfortable couch of his living room. You were sat up with your cheek in your hand, elbow propped on the armrest, while Satoru lay down. He was currently using your lap as his pillow— as he so often did. Your hand played with his hair, twirling the tips of it between your fingers.
You had insisted on putting a romcom on, which he wasn’t too eager about, admittedly. But it wasn’t like he was complaining about it. He simply remained silent, too unbothered to hide his disinterest.
And frankly? You hated it. You almost wish he’d whine your ear off about your bad taste in movies rather than just being indifferent. Because it made you feel as if he couldn’t care less whether you were here with him or not.
That’s when an idea popped into your head. The words spilled out of your mouth before you could think them over.
“It’s getting late, I think I should go back now.” you nudge his head lightly in the same way you usually did when you needed to get up to grab some water or use the bathroom, signaling for him to get off your lap.
Refusing to lift off of you, he remains silent for a moment, before slowly turning his head to look up at you. “What?”
“I said it’s getting late.” you repeat, holding back from smiling as you were already starting to find this amusing. You point to the window. “I want to get back home before it’s completely dark out.”
“And why would you want to go back home…? I don’t understand.” he frowns.
You furrow your eyebrows as well, mimicking him for the sake of playing along. “Why would I stay?”
“Because I want you to? I thought you were spending the night like usual.” He sits up, the blanket previously draped over him pooling at his waist, and folds one knee up to rest his arm against it as he looks back at you.
Now that he’s finally off of you, you seize the opportunity and stand on your two feet. You glance around the room, as if looking to gather your things to leave. Man, you were really selling it. “No, not tonight.”
“Why?” He immediately stands up. Walking over to you, he blocks your path, all 6’3 feet of him towering over you. “... is it because I wasn’t paying attention to the movie?” his voice grows quieter.
You scowl at him and fold your arms over your chest, even though you wanted to burst out laughing. You had a part to play after all.
“I’m sorry, okay? It’s not my fault I don’t like corny movies like that.” He shrugs, putting his hands on his hips. His gaze drops to the carpet beneath your feet. “Besides, it’s kinda hard to pay attention when you’re touching my hair like that…” his voice trails off.
“Well that’s a heartfelt apology if I’ve ever heard one.” you roll your eyes back.
He groans and rakes a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I mean it.” the tall blue-eyed man sighs. “Don’t go, please?” he finally lifts his gaze off the ground to look at you. Satoru gives you his signature pleading look, accompanied with a playful wink. “I promise I’ll be super-duper focused this time.” he leans down so both of your faces meet.
You let out a sigh and look away, completely ignoring the fact his lips were just a breath away from yours. You pretend to give it some thought for a couple of seconds.
“Alright, fine.”
His lips meet yours in a quick peck, and his arms encircle you as he lifts you up, throwing you over his shoulder.
“Satoru! Unhand me—”
“Can’t, sorry. Don’t want you running away from me.” he shakes his head, patting the back of your thighs gently.
“I already said I wasn’t going anywhere!” you squirm in his grasp.
“Better safe than sorry though, yeah?” he chuckles, making his way back to the plush sofa in the center of his living room.
“You can be so annoying sometimes, you know that?”
“Mhm, I love you too baby.”
જ⁀➴ Kento Nanami .ᐟ
You played with your necklace as you let your eyes sweep over Kento’s familiar apartment. The kitchen where you had made meals together, the corner where you forced him to dance to jazz music with you, and the front door where you’d shared as many kisses as goodbyes.
Your boyfriend had excused himself for a moment and left you alone at the kitchen counter where you were previously chatting and enjoying a drink after coming back from your nice dinner date.
Knowing the routine the both of you shared by now, he was probably going to come back with a spare set of clothes for you to change into and sleep in.
And you curse yourself for the mischievous idea that squeezed itself into your brain. Perhaps you were feeling playful because of that dizzying kiss you shared earlier. Or maybe it was just the drinks. Either way, you were set on teasing him.
So, you quickly stand up from the stool and grab your bag. Kento comes back before you can make your way to the coat hanger at the entrance, however.
You hear the pause in his footsteps and turn around to face him.
And just like you’d assumed, he had a fresh change of clothes in one hand, and the makeup removing wipes you kept at his place in the other. His gaze stays stoic, although you’re sure it doesn’t reflect what’s going through his mind.
“You’re leaving?” He speaks in his usual steady tone.
You clear your throat and avoid his piercing gaze. “Yeah, it’s getting pretty late.”
He puts the clothes and makeup wipes down on the counter. “... I assumed you’d be staying the night.”
“Oh, no. Not this time.” you readjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder.
“And why is that?” he lifts one of his eyebrows
“I don’t know… I’m tired.” you blurt out. You should’ve thought this through more thoroughly, clearly.
A confused expression makes its way onto his face. “You’re tired, so you want to go out of your way to go back home instead of just spending the night here?”
You shrug and let your eyes trail away from him.
He takes a couple steps forward until he reaches you. “Did I do something wrong? Is that why you want to leave so urgently?” he searches for your gaze.
But you’re determined to keep playing along, and don’t even spare him a glance.
At your silence, he sighs. “… At least let me drive you home. It’s not safe for you to be out this late. Especially alone.” he suggests, but he’s already walking past you.
He grabs his car keys and slips them in his pocket before reaching for his coat.
You quickly turn on your heels and reach him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “I’m not going anywhere Kento.”
He halts his movements and looks back at you over his shoulder. “... What?”
“I don’t actually want to leave.” you look up at him, your chin resting against his back. “Just wanted to see how you’d react.”
He lets out a heavy sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose.
You let go of him so he can take his coat off. He hangs his keys back up and turns around.
“Don’t do that again.” he runs a hand through his blonde hair, the motion making some strands fall against his forehead. “I thought I upset you, or made you uncomfortable in some way.”
“Sorry, you know I like to keep you on your toes.” you chuckle and reach a hand out to grab his. Despite his frustration, his hand finds yours almost instantly, as if it was second nature to him. His large and steady palm encircles your smaller hand, thumb tracing circles against the back of it.
“There’s that, and those few glasses you had earlier which I definitely shouldn’t have indulged you in.” he grumbles and lets himself be pulled forward by you.
You giggle in response, unintentionally proving his point. “Not my fault you can’t say no to me.” your free hand finds his firm shoulder and you start swaying side to side while humming a soft tune the both of you liked.
He lets out a huff and shakes his head before a small smile breaks out on his face. He follows your clumsy lead and moves in sync with you. Kento speaks up again, his voice softer now. “You’re right. It’s not your fault you’re so charming.”
જ⁀➴ Yuji Itadori .ᐟ
You scrolled on your phone mindlessly, letting out the occasional laugh at a funny video. You’d been doing so for the past hour and a half now, while Yuji flipped through his comic book, deeply enamored in the story.
The both of you were lounging on his bed. Him sat up against the headboard, plush pillow supporting his back, while you were more slouched against him, head carefully caged in between his bicep and chest while he held up his book.
That’s when you fell upon the video. The one where you saw a girl in a similar situation as the one you were in right now, pulling a prank on her boyfriend. The prank consisted of her pretending she was leaving, just to see her boyfriend’s reaction. Luckily for you, you were wearing your earphones, and Yuji was far too focused on his reading to sense the imminent mischief coming his way.
Unable to stop yourself, you turn your phone off and lift his elbow to free yourself from his grasp.
“‘Kay I’m gonna go now.” you scoot yourself off his bed and stretch your arms once you’re back on your feet.
He closes his book and lets it fall on his stomach. “Huh?”
You chuckle at his cluelessness. “I said I’m leaving, Yuji. I wanna go to sleep.”
He sits up. “So sleep here.” the pink haired boy states simply, as if it was the obvious answer.
“... I wanna sleep in my room though.” you put a hand on your hip.
“What’s wrong with my room?” he stands up and steps closer to you, completely invading your personal space. He had a tendency to do that.
“Nothing’s wrong with it, I just— why are you so offended?” you snort.
“I’m not offended… I just don’t understand why you don’t wanna sleep over. You always do.” he tilts his head, the gesture reminding you of a puppy.
Thank god for your resolve, because if you didn’t have any, you already would’ve caved in and kissed him stupid.
“Not always.” you roll your eyes.
“You slept over last night and the night before though…” he scratches at his head, confused.
“That’s besides the point!” you huff. “Okay you know what? I’m just gonna go.”
He doesn’t even let you take more than two footsteps before his arms trap you in a tight embrace from behind. “You can’t just go without giving me a good reason to!”
“Yuji let go of me—” you move around, trying to slip free from his hold. Curse him and his superhuman strength. And although you try to sound angry, you can’t help the giggles erupting from deep within your stomach.
He ignores your demands. “Come on just tell me— did I do something wrong? Or do you just not like my room?” he laughs along with you, the sound booming in your ear.
“It’s not that!” you continue giggling, as he was now relentlessly attacking your neck and cheek with sloppy kisses. “God, you’re so gross! Stop it—” You push a hand against his face.
He pouts and gives your hand a small lick. “Me? Gross?”
You yelp and wipe your hand against his thigh. “Yes, you!”
“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? I’m just trying to show my girlfriend I love her.”
Feeling him settle down, you do the same and try to catch your breath from all that laughing.
His voice is quieter. “Seriously, why do you wanna go so bad?” he juts his bottom lip out.
“I don’t… I just wanted to see if you’d care whether I left or not.”
“... You for real?” Once he sees you nod, he lets out a sigh, feeling reassured.
At the sight of the overwhelming relief washing over him, you chuckle. “You’re acting like you avoided a catastrophe.”
“I really did.”
“Me not sleeping in the same room as you is a catastrophe?” you deadpan.
“Of course it is.” He gives you a small glare, as if it were a stupid question. “Wait— you don’t feel the same?”
You hold back from smiling too hard. He just kept giving you opportunities to tease him on a silver platter. “I mean… I’d live.” you shrug.
“Sometimes I think you might secretly hate me…” he sighs woefully.
You grab his hand abruptly and drag him back to bed. “Would you quit being dramatic? I never said I hated you.” letting yourself fall against the mattress, you tug him along so he falls on top of you. He catches himself at the last second to hover above you, supporting himself with his forearms.
“But you act like it—”
You cut his sentence short by pressing a kiss to his adam’s apple. It bobs against you as he swallows hard, his face and neck flushing red.
He lets out a shaky breath. “... You’re going to kill me one of these days.”
જ⁀➴ Megumi Fushiguro .ᐟ
The sound of rain hitting the window could be heard through Megumi’s room. It was late in the evening, and the two of you were resting in his bed.
His front was pressed against your back, and his chin rested against the top of your head. He had an arm draped over you. You weren’t doing anything in particular, simply lying down entangled with one another. Enjoying the other’s warmth. But you could tell he hadn’t dozed off yet.
Although he was probably about to. Today’s mission had been more rough than usual. And you could tell he was going to wake up sore all over tomorrow.
So, you concluded he needed some good rest.
“Megumi?” you speak up softly, not wanting to startle him.
His hand tightens around your waist. “Hm?”
“I’m gonna go back to my room now, okay?”
He lets his head dip down to be closer to you. “Why?” he murmurs against your ear.
You purse your lips together. Of course he was going to be difficult about this. “You need to be well-rested tomorrow.”
“... Still waiting for you to explain why you’re leaving,”
You sigh. His ability to remain a sarcastic jackass even while tired was truly impressive.
“You’re going to end up even more sore if you sleep with me like this. You know I move around a lot in my sleep.”
He goes quiet for a moment, as if thinking your words over. A heavy sigh escapes him. “I’ll be fine.”
Your hand moves to rest on top of his. You let it sit there for a moment before you try to detach his hand from your side. “No, you won’t. And I don’t want to be the reason you feel even worse tomorrow.”
His grip on you only tightens once he notices you’re trying to get rid of him. “Would you stop overthinking this? I told you I’ll be fine.”
“You say that now, but you’re going to complain and blame me later when you’re hurting all over.” you click your tongue and huff.
Megumi ignores your disdain, and pulls you back to him, pressing his chest against your spine even tighter than before. He nuzzles his face even closer, and you can feel his bangs against your ear, and his lips against your neck. His soft breath fans across your collarbone as he speaks.
“... I won’t, I promise.” he mumbles, his voice almost getting lost with the sound of the harsh rain tapping against the glass of the window.
“And how do I know you mean it?”
“I always keep my word, don’t I? Stop worrying over this.”
Your hand that was previously trying to get him to let go of you gives up, and instead runs down your face as you groan lightly. “Megumi, this is for your own good. I want you to feel better tomorrow.”
“And you don’t want me to feel better now?”
Your hand falls from your face to land on the pillow under you. “What are you talking about?”
“What about right now? Don’t you want me to feel good now?”
You stare down at his hand that was around your waist, stunned. “Well… yeah. Of course I do.”
“Then let me have this.” he huffs, burying his face against the collar of your shirt. He speaks up again, his voice softer this time. “Stay with me.”
“... You’re way too stubborn. I hope you know that.”
He hums, paying you no mind.
“Fine, I’ll stay. But if you say one word about it being my fault that you—”
“I get it. Stop nagging me.” he groans. But the second he feels your tense form relax against him once more, he whispers. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“... you really gonna make me say it out loud?”
You chuckle softly. “Yes.”
He clears his throat, and lowers his face. His eyes flutter shut, and you feel his eyelashes brush up against your shoulder. A soft kiss is pressed against your skin. “Thanks for being here,”
“I always will.” you respond.
જ⁀➴ Toji Fushiguro .ᐟ
You twirl the ends of your hair mindlessly as you watch him. Toji was hunched over in the midst of his small kitchen, rummaging through his fridge. The buzzing light of it highlighting his sharpest features, currently pulled into a small frown as he groaned about forgetting to buy a pack of beer.
He’d been in a pretty foul mood for the last hour or so. You’re not exactly sure why. He’d gotten off the phone with Shiu all bitter and angry.
You were hoping the two of you could share a nice evening— or night, but it seemed that plan had gone to ruin now. And you weren’t sure exactly what to do.
So there you were, sitting on the bed of his small one bedroom studio, keeping quiet out of fear of angering or stressing him out further.
After contemplating, you sigh and stand up. “Hey, Toji?”
“Mmh?” he grumbles in response.
“I’m leaving, okay?”
He closes the fridge and watches you as you make your way to the front door, grabbing your stuff along the way. His eyes widen in disbelief. He reaches you in two steps.
“Where you going?”
“... Home.” you look up at him, fingers tightly gripping your bag. You had hoped no argument would come out of this. He wasn’t one to fight or anything, but still.
“Why?”
“I don’t know I just…” you trail off. He stays silent, giving you the chance to think. You take a deep breath and speak up again. “Just thought I’d give you some space. Now’s not a good time for you, clearly.”
“Who said that?” his eyebrows knit in confusion, his frown only worsening.
“No one— it’s obvious.” you fold your arms over your chest. “I mean… you’ve been groaning and grumbling to yourself since earlier.”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “So?” he throws his head to the side, gaze landing on his window.
“So… I’m leaving you be.” you say, your tone leaving no room for discussion as you turn your back to him, reaching for the doorknob and twisting it.
His hand immediately lands on the door and he pushes against it, slamming it shut. You look to your left, his large and rough palm laying flat against the wood right next to your head. “Don’t want you to.” he states, his other hand moving against the door on your right side this time, caging you in.
You sigh. “Why not?”
He stays still for a moment, before leaning forward, his forehead landing on your shoulder with a soft thud. “Need you here with me.” he mumbles.
You’re slightly taken-aback by his words, but out of fear he might deflect or retreat back in his shell, you say nothing. You simply reach a hand up, your fingers carding through his thin black hair.
“You sure? I don’t want to make you more upset than you already are.”
He clicks his tongue in response. “You don’t upset me doll,”
Unsure of what to do, you remain motionless and quiet, for the sole exception of your hand massaging his scalp.
“Don’t go. Stay here.” he mutters against your shoulder. His arms detach from the door to wrap themselves around your waist. That was probably the closest you would ever get to hearing him plead.
“... Alright, I’m staying.” your free hand moves to caress and trace along the veins of his arms.
A soft groan slips past his lips at the sensation of your hand in his hair, and he tightens his arms around you.
“Whatever Shiu said must’ve really upset you, huh…”
His hand slips under your shirt and traces the soft lines of your stomach. “Say his name one more fucking time,”
You hold back a laugh and scoff instead. “Okay, okay, calm down.”
His hand loosens around your waist, and he pulls away from you. You finally turn back around to meet his gaze. Your eyes soften at the sight of him. Hair just a tad greasy and disheveled, eyebags more prominent than before, shoulders not as upright and confident as usual.
“Don’t look at me like that.” he grunts and looks away.
“Like what?” you inch closer, hands finding his waist.
“Like you pity me.”
You shake your head with a smile. “I worry about you. It’s not the same thing.”
“Yeah well I don’t need you worrying over me like I’m some kid that needs help.”
“Sure, sure.” You nod. “How about you hop in the shower and I wash your hair?”
His eyes trail back to you instantly, and he looks down at you with a conflicted expression. He considers it for a moment. “Fine, but you’re getting in with me.” he grins.
You run a hand down your face but reluctantly agree. “I’m just going to wash your hair, Toji. That’s it.”
“You always say that and then end up—”
“In the shower you go!” you raise your voice to drown out the sound of his, and start pushing him towards the bathroom.
જ⁀➴ Ryomen Sukuna .ᐟ
Warm water flowing from your fingertips and trickling down his back, gentle candlelight bouncing off of the hard planes of his body, and the quiet breeze of the night air slipping past the lavish curtains and into the room.
It was currently late into the night, and Sukuna had summoned you to his chambers to bathe him. Just like he did every other night. He’d complained to you about his needlessly tiring and grueling day.
Dealing with—what he deemed to be—incompetent servants, his food being too cold for his taste, and the arrogant members of his court ordering him around (they were merely giving him suggestions on political matters).
You’d just finished giving him his bath, and were currently standing with his short-sleeved robe held out for him to slip into. You watched carefully as he finished drying himself off and turned his back to you, black tattoos and hardened muscles on display. They flex and contort as he slips his four arms through the large loop holes and shrugs the light robe on.
He turned around to let you tie the garment and your hands moved fast, tying a small knot around his waist, your eyes trained on the fabric in-between your fingers. Once finished, you took two steps back and bowed your head, hands clasped together at your front.
“If you do not need me for anything else, I will be taking my leave, my lord.”
“You’re not going anywhere.” He huffed, running a hand through his wet hair.
You let out an involuntary twitch. “... Is there something else you’d like me to do for you?”
“No.” he responds simply.
You raise your gaze for the first time, and look at him. “May I ask why you’re keeping me then?”
“You may not.” The tall man retorts and turns around, making his way to his bed. And you know, without him having to tell you, that he expects you to follow after him. So you do.
You stand with your hands still joined together, posture upright, your eyes glued to the floor, with your back against the wall.
He throws a glance at you and a sneer graces his lips. “Must you stand in the corner like a potted plant?”
You clench your hands, holding back from shooting a snarky response his way, and manage to stay quiet.
“Join me,”
Now that breaks your resolve.
You look at him across the room. “Sorry?”
He makes himself comfortable against his pillows, and folds one knee up, elbow propped up against it and his chin resting in his palm. “Have you gone deaf? Do not make me repeat myself.” he glares.
You swallow, hard, and make your way to him slowly.
“Before the sun rises again, would you?” he orders, and you pick up your pace.
You stand at the foot of his bed, quiet.
Once you’re finally close enough for him to scrutinize your every expression and feature, a smirk forms on his face, and he pats the space next to him.
Heat flares up in your stomach and you feel fear, anger and confusion (and maybe a bit of arousal), all at once.
“My lord… I am afraid I can not provide you with what you desire. Allow me to remind you I am but a humble servant.” You speak firmly. Well… as firm as you could manage considering you were probably going to lose your head in the next five minutes. But you’d rather be beheaded than get in bed with him against your will. “I could ask for a concubine to be called if that is what you wish.” you bow again, hoping to appease him.
His hand drops from his face and his smile fades. He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Would you calm down, you vixen? I can practically smell the fear oozing out of your pores.”
A frown makes its way onto your face without you wanting to.
A beat of silence passes and he looks away before speaking up again in a softer tone. “You misunderstood my intentions. I simply wish for you to lie down with me.”
Your scowl melts into a confused expression, now more perplexed than anything.
But the most perplexing part of all this is the fact that you don’t find yourself completely opposed to the idea. On the contrary, you were almost tempted by it.
“Do not make me wait,” he speaks. Although this time, it sounds like a request disguised as an order. “Don’t you think you’ve already made me wait far too long for you?” He adds, voice quiet.
You finally comply, albeit hesitantly, and sit down next to him. You move carefully, as though one wrong move could mean the end for you. And considering you were dealing with Sukuna, you weren’t exercising unnecessary caution.
“Loosen up. I won’t eat you.” He scoffs and instantly pulls you by the waist.
All four of his arms pull you against him and make you lay on your side. One of them moves to pull the soft covers over you. He clutches you tighter against his form. Almost as if he were a child tucking himself to sleep, holding onto his favourite plushie.
You barely hold back a small chuckle at the mental image.
“Is this amusing to you?”
You freeze, cursing yourself for failing to conceal your emotions. “... perhaps.” you blurt honestly.
He lets out a short grunt, and nuzzles his head against your neck. “Just go to sleep.”
masterlist
a/n: reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated. also pls dont be shy abt commenting i love it when ppl do that <3
You’ve been riding Satoru for god knows how long now. Load after load of frothy cum pours from your cunt, coating your cramping thighs and mixing with the sheen of sweat that coats your body.
His hands grip your waist, urging you to go faster but your hips falter, no strength left in them to keep going. Your body sags into his, chests heaving and sticking together.
“I-I can’t,” you mutter, breathless.
“Slap me,” Satoru requests plainly, like he’s asking you to pass him something you’re closer to.
“What?” You ask, his request shocking you into sitting back up and unintentionally taking him deep again, the sensitive tip of his cock hitting your cervix just right enough to have you both groaning.
“I said, slap the shit out of me.” He pats your hip and gives you a small nod of encouragement.
“Toru,” you sigh, shaking your head. “I’m not going t-”
“Scared you’re gonna hurt me?” he teases at your hesitation. “C’mon, baby, do your worst.” That stupid smirk spreads across his stupid handsome face and well...
Might as well cash in all those times you’ve wanted to smack it right off his face.
His hips jolt up into you when your hand connects with his face, red blooming under his already flushed skin.
“Fuck, baby.” His pupils are blown wide with the sudden surge of adrenaline, his thighs trembling as he tries to fuck up into you. “Again.”
“You’re sick,” you giggle, but oblige him nonetheless, the smack! of your hand landing echoing off the walls.
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ . ݁ 18+ | dry humping with nerdjo when you’re ovulating
you had pushed him back on his dorm bed, unable to help yourself when he was going on about something that happened during one of his classes. how he corrected the professor who tried to save their own pride by arguing with your self-assured boyfriend.
your thighs were squeezing together while he told you about it, a cute pout on his lips because he knew he was right. and you could barely catch the whole story because you were busy staring at his lips. at his jaw that you were tempted to take out a protractor and see just how sharp it was. at his arms bulging in his hoodie when he folded them over his chest.
you couldn’t handle it. your panties were becoming soaked.
you didn’t bother taking off either of your clothes, flipping your skirt up and straddling him to grind against him.
“b-baby-- fuck…” he whimpers, hands clutching your waist as you rut desperately against the bulge in his jeans, the fabric quickly becoming darker from a combination of his pre and your arousal. “what’s hah gotten into you?”
“i love you,” you whisper, leaning down, breath mingling with his. “i love hearing you speak. everything about you. mm, fuck… you make me so wet.”
he has to bite back a moan in response to your words. he stutters out something along the lines of an “i love you” back. then, he remembers the little note in his calendar that he put, keeping track of your cycle.
oh.
his glasses are foggy and skewed on his face, but he’s staring up at you with glassy eyes, a starry gaze of love and awe in them. he’s panting softly, mouth parted. you take his chin between your fingers, urging him to open his mouth further and you spit right onto his tongue.
he whines. loudly. his hips bucking up violently into yours, his clothed bulge catching on your clit just right. his hold tightens on your hips and he can’t help the frantic humping as he holds you down firmly on his lap. he ruts and ruts, like he’s the one in heat. already looking completely ruined.
“fuck, fuck. oh, fuck, you’re so hot. i need to… can i fuck you, please, baby?”
you slow down your hips, gyrating them in lecherous circles and figure 8’s, head tipping back as you moan so sweetly into the sultry air. your panties are a sticky mess at this point, sticking to you like a second skin, see-through and filthy.
“can’t, ‘toru. we don’t have condoms right now. plus this feels sooo good.”
“i’ll pull out, i promise,” he insists, breathy and needy. he can feel you soaking him through the layers of fabric, your heat making him twitch within the confines of his jeans. he aches to feel your cloying warmth wrapped around him instead. “jus’… hah need you so bad.”
“you can never pull out. you’re so weak when it comes to me,” you whisper again, and he groans, head lolling back on his pillow.
he knows you’re right, but god, does he need you.
you start to hump him faster again, the slick puddle between the two of you easing the glide of your hips. you grind against him like you’re riding him, completely taking control and making him dizzy. he feels like he’s going insane. and each time his cock drags against you just right, your thighs tremble on each side of his lap, only making you gush again, continuously leaking.
“love this so much, ‘toru,” you mewl, planting your palms on his chest so that you can grind against him faster and harder. a shiver runs through you, a shock of pleasure pulling your eyes back into your skull. “you feel so good like this.”
that hot little pool of pleasure in your lower abdomen growing hotter and spreading through you.
he’s whimpering out your name like a sacred prayer, sweat rolling down his neck as he tries to suppress the urge to fuck you. tries and fails pathetically. all he can think about is the way your sweet walls massage his cock, dripping all over him and sending him to heaven early.
“‘m gonna die like this. not being able to fuck you.”
“you’re so cute when you’re needy,” you giggle, leaning back down and kissing him. it’s a hungry kiss, like both of you are starving for each other, teeth clashing, moaning hotly into each other’s mouths.
one of his hands trail up from your hip to the back of your head, tangling in your hair and keeping you in place to kiss you like it might be the last time he ever will. his tongue slides against yours before you capture it between your lips and suck gently.
you feel his fingers twitch on your hip and in your hair, a muffled moan resounding through him and his eyes roll back. his body trembles beneath yours, grasp tightening on your hip before it slowly relaxes again. you feel warmth quickly seeping through your panties, something hot that isn’t your own slick.
pulling back from the heated kiss, you look down at him, seeing the flush deepening on his cheeks and the hazy look in his baby blue eyes. he’s gently rutting into you, dick pulsing with each grind.
“did you just cum?” you ask, awe and a deeper desire taking over the look in your eyes.
he drapes his arm over his eyes, catching his breath. “maybe. a tiny bit.”
you giggle again, looking down at the dark patch on his jeans that got bigger. “a little bit, huh?” you continue to rub yourself against him, and it doesn’t take long for his cock to twitch back to life. “think you can go again? i don’t think i can stop.”
he slumps back, but still eager to please you. “you really are gonna kill me.”
i think gojo is no stranger to being cruel in bed.
at first it starts off with him taunting and teasing, cause he’s always such a bastard even between the sheets. he edges you all night until you cry; he slides just the tip in and laughs when you whimper and beg for more. “yeah?” he croons in your ear, his warm body heavy against your back as his cock slides just a little deeper, not enough to even spread you open all the way. “you want this dick baby? you think you earned it?”
you nod, your words slightly garbled through his hold on your jaw. “i’ve been good, i’ve been good…” you chant, brokenhearted and oh so desperate for his praise and approval.
he won’t give it.
he just laughs again, the sound rumbling against your back. his breath on your neck makes you shiver. “yeah?” he says again, still in that soft, mockingly sweet voice. “you have? i dunno…” he pulls back again, and you could cry when you feel him slip from your cunt again. “i don’t think you’re strong enough to take it.”
at that you finally do cry out, equal parts indignant and wounded. “i can!”
“oh, you can, huh?” his teeth graze your jaw, your neck. “you want me to let loose? want me to really fuck you, hm?”
you nod again. and that’s when his cruelty really starts to shine.
he makes you take it all, and fast. he shoves your face into the pillows and fucks you like you’re just one of his enemies he’s playing with before certain decimation. his hips slam into yours over and over again, his cock grinding ruthlessly against your g-spot until you’re moaning like a whore into the pillowcase.
he chuckles again, and this time it’s quiet and thrilled and just a little savage. his fingers curl into your hair, pressing you down harder. “that’s right,” he whispers, half satisfaction and half desire for more. “take it, baby.”
he picks up the pace, and you let out a cry so loud it echoes in the bedroom.
and he just grins, that feral light in his eyes when he says, “aw, baby…
“i thought you said you could take it.”
a/n: i really need to write for somebody else guys. getting ridiculous. anyway, can you tell what i think about when im bored at work?
𝜗ৎ older bf!gojo doesn’t like it when your thoughts drift to something else while he’s in balls deep.
content warning: smut, piv.
satoru’s a man with a big ego. especially when it comes to his abilities in satisfying a woman—his woman. so when he notices the slightest change in your facial expression while he’s balls deep inside your pussy, he takes it as a challenge.
“thinkin’ of something else, baby?” he asks between shallow breaths, the quick thrusts of his hips never faltering. in fact, the pace only increases at your suspected distraction, “or someone else?”
you snap back into reality with a choked moan when you feel him pinch and rub your clit. you shake your head in denial, “no—i’m not—promise.”
satoru’s eyes narrow and a muscle in his jaw twitches, expression almost turning dark, before he catches himself. “y’re a really bad liar,” he chuckles breathily before he forces his lips into a small smile, “but it’s okay. i’m not mad.”
you bite your lip. he says he isn’t mad, but you can feel it in the way his movements turn harsh and erratic that he is. slightly.
you’re about to tell him that you’re just worried about your upcoming exams when he slowly comes to a full stop, a dark shadow falling over his eyes. the reassuring grin on his face slowly drops as he lets the urge take over.
that urge to fuck each and every thought out of your pretty little head so you can only focus on him.
satoru lifts your hips off the mattress, pulling your cunt flush to the base of his dick as he sits back on his haunches. “‘toru, wait! fuck!” you squeal and your eyes roll back as his own hips start surging forward in sharp and deep thrusts.
the older man smirks down at you, both hands on either side of your waist as he holds your lower body steady and up on his pistoning cock.
“nah. i’m not waitin’—not until i’m sure that all my girl’s thinking of is this fuckin’ dick. nothing else.”
