tayswriting

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[tays-writing]

Masterlist

Satoru Gojo

if you were sober: part 1 . part 2

where he draws the line

sucking off your boyfriend in his cousin's wedding

don't fall for me

Xavier (Love and Deepspace)

gojo coded

Zayne (Love and Deepspace)

you are testing my restraint

I'm still so new to Tumblr, I feel like a baby learning how to walk lol. More to come :)

You can find me on AO3

[tays-writing]

Don't fall for me

Satoru Gojo x reader

CW: angst (with happy ending), emotionally constipated reader, fear of commitment (reader), SMUT!! Satoru is really pathetic in this one (but there's payoff, i swear) 4.8k words

The music thumped heavily through the walls of the engineering frat house. The birthday party was pure chaos— red cups scattered everywhere, people grinding in the living room, and the air thick with the smell of weed. 

You were in the kitchen, leaning against the island with a gin tonic in hand. You weren’t trying to get blackout drunk, just wanted to forget the disaster that was your last final. 

Suddenly, a tall figure appeared beside you, reaching for a bottle of rum.

“Mind passing me that?” he asked in a smooth, confident voice

You turned and looked up.

Satoru Gojo.

Even under the shitty party lighting, he stood out. Tall, with that signature snow-white hair, striking blue eyes, and an aura of effortless charm that screamed trouble. Put simply, he was stupidly attractive.

You handed him the bottle without a word.

“Thanks,” he said, but instead of walking away he stayed, studying you with curiosity. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around much. Friend of the birthday guy?”

“Friend of his girlfriend,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink. “Only here because she dragged me.”

Gojo let out an amused chuckle, his grin widening “I like the honesty”

The conversation flowed surprisingly well. He was quick-witted, funny in the right way, and didn’t try too hard. One drink turned into two, then three. The flirting became more obvious — lingering looks, teasing remarks, his body slowly inching closer to yours.

An hour later you were both upstairs in one of the empty bedrooms. You pushed him against the wall the moment the door clicked shut, mouth crashing into his while your fingers tugged urgently at his belt.

The kiss was hot, messy, and intense, tongues sliding together as his hands roamed down your sides. You tugged at his shirt impatiently. 

“Off.”

He chuckled against your lips, pulling back just enough to yank the shirt over his head, revealing a toned, lean torso. You ran your hands over his chest as he worked on your clothes, peeling your top off and unhooking your bra with practiced ease.

“You’re gorgeous,” he muttered, mouth latching onto your neck, sucking and biting while his hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they hardened.

You moaned softly, fingers threading through his white hair “Just fuck me already”

“Yes ma’am”

He lifted you effortlessly and dropped you gently onto the bed. Then he yanked your pants and panties down in one swift motion. You heard his belt buckle, the zipper, and the tear of a condom wrapper.

He rubbed the thick head of his cock against your soaked entrance, teasing you for a second before thrusting in deep.

“Fuck,” you both moaned at the same time.

He was huge, just as the rumors said. Everything about him was big — that tall figure hovering over you, broad shoulders, and the way he stretched you so deliciously full.

He gave you barely a moment before he started moving. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as he fucked you, one hand gripping your hip, the other reaching around to rub your clit.

“You feel so fucking good” he growled, pounding into you faster.

You were moaning loudly, pushing against him with every thrust. The pleasure built fast and intense, and your orgasm crashed over you without warning, walls clenching around his cock as pleasure ripped through your body. 

Gojo groaned at the feeling, fucking you through it before his own pace faltered. He buried himself deep and came with a low, rough moan.

For a few moments, the only sound was your heavy breathing.

He pulled out carefully, disposed of the condom, and collapsed onto the bed beside you, still catching his breath.

You, however, didn’t stay. You sat up almost immediately and started gathering your clothes.

“Already leaving?” he asked, his eyebrows slightly raised

“Mhm,” you muttered, pulling your top back on.

Gojo propped himself up on one elbow, watching you quietly as you fixed your clothes. Before you reached the door, he spoke again.

“At least tell me your name?”

For the first time since getting out of bed, you actually looked at him. “Maybe next time.”

And with that, you slipped out of the room, leaving him lying there naked on the bed, staring at the door with a furrowed brow

—

Three weeks later you were at your best friend’s apartment for a small get-together. You walked in carrying snacks and froze in the doorway.

Satoru Gojo was sitting on the couch, long legs spread, wearing a black compression shirt that should be illegal. Next to him was your best friend’s boyfriend… and apparently, Gojo had become pretty close to him. 

Your best friend grinned. “Oh good, you’re here!”

Gojo’s head snapped toward you, but didn’t say anything. The night went on normally, at least on the surface. You laughed with your friends and played stupid games. But you could feel his eyes on you the entire time. Every time you moved, every time you laughed, he was watching.

Later, when people started leaving, he caught you in the hallway.

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly.

You raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

“About the fact that I haven’t stopped thinking about you since that night.”

“It was one night. We had fun. That's it.”

He stepped closer, towering over you, but his voice was surprisingly gentle. Almost cautious.

“What if I want more? You left without even telling me your name. I had to ask your friend”

You stared at him for a long moment, caught slightly off guard.

“I don’t do relationships. And I don’t do exclusivity. If you’re looking for something serious, I’m not the girl for you”

His jaw tightened, but after a second he shrugged, that easy smirk returning.

“Then I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”

You should have walked away right then. Instead, you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into the bathroom.

That became the pattern. Days turned into weeks before either of you realized it. You’d text him late at night, and he’d show up at your dorm or you’d go to his fancy off-campus apartment after classes. The sex was incredible every single time — sometimes rough and desperate, sometimes slow and teasing. But every time he tried to stay the night or asked to see you for something other than sex, you shut it down.

“I’m not looking for anything serious,” you’d remind him.

And every time, Satoru would smile like it didn’t hurt and say, “I know.”

But it did hurt. He was falling hard, and he knew it. He started turning down other girls without hesitation. His friends teased him about how whipped he was getting, but he didn’t care. He just wanted you — in any way you’d let him have you.

One night after you’d ridden him until both of you were shaking, you tried to get up and leave like always.

His arms tightened around your waist.

“Stay,” he whispered against your shoulder. “Just this once.”

You froze, then gently pried his hands off.

“I can’t.”

You got dressed in silence. When you glanced back before closing the door, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, head lowered, white hair falling over his eyes. He looked… defeated. And yet he still texted you the next day.

—

“So… there’s a university couple’s event next weekend. You should bring someone!” your best friend said

You laughed. “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen”

Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “What about Gojo?”

“We’re not together.”

“Right. Maybe he’ll bring someone else” She shrugged 

The thought of him showing up with another girl made something ugly and sharp bloom in your chest.

You hated that feeling. Because you weren’t supposed to care.

—

The event was louder than you expected. Couples were everywhere: kissing in corners, dancing way too close, feeding each other snacks like they were in some cheesy rom-com. It made your skin crawl a little.

You hadn’t brought anyone. Instead, you showed up in a tight black dress that showed just enough cleavage and skin. You told yourself it wasn’t for anyone in particular.

But when Satoru Gojo walked in wearing a loose white button-up with the first few buttons undone and black pants that sat low on his hips, you knew you were lying to yourself.

His eyes found you instantly. That bright blue gaze dragged slowly down your body, then back up. He didn’t even try to hide the hunger. He made his way over, hands in his pockets.

“You didn’t text me to come with you.”

“Didn’t think I needed to. We’re not together”

Something flickered across his face — quick, sharp, gone in a second. But his smile stayed.

“Right.”

The rest of the night continued like that. You talked with people, laughed, and danced a little. Gojo stayed nearby, always watching. Every time a guy approached you, you felt his stare burning into your back.

At one point, a tall guy from your literature class leaned in to say something in your ear over the music. You laughed at his joke. 

Later, you slipped outside to get some air. The backyard was quieter, only a few couples making out in the shadows. 

You reached a darker spot behind a tree when you heard footsteps behind you.

“You’ve been avoiding me all night,” Satoru said

You turned. He was standing too close, his eyes dark

“I’m not avoiding you. I’m just existing in the same place as you”

“Existing while other guys whisper in your ear?” He stepped even closer, towering over you. “While you laugh at their shitty jokes?”.

“We’re not exclusive, Satoru. I told you that from the start.”

“I know what you said.” His hand came up, fingers brushing your jaw. “Doesn’t stop me from hating it.”

The possessiveness in his voice should’ve annoyed you. Instead, your gaze dropped to his mouth.

That was all it took.

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him down into a hard kiss. He groaned into your mouth, hands immediately sliding down to grip your ass, his leg sliding between yours

Your breath hitched against his lips. 

“You drive me crazy,” he growled between kisses

You rocked your hips against his thigh, your panties already soaked. He grabbed one of your legs and hooked it around his waist, pressing his own higher to give you better friction.

“Satoru— fuck—”

“Come for me, soak my pants. I know you can do it”

His words sent a dark thrill through you. You came with a broken cry, walls clenching around nothing. He kissed you softly this time — slow, almost tender. His fingers brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispered, his forehead resting briefly against yours. “My place’s closer.”

You looked up at him. Those beautiful blue eyes were wide open, vulnerable in a way that made your chest tighten. For a second, you almost said yes.

“I can’t. I have an early class tomorrow.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then you smoothed down your dress, turned around, and walked away.

He didn’t try to stop you.

—

The next weeks nothing changed; you’d have incredible sex that left you both exhausted and satisfied, then you’d slip out the door before either of you could pretend it meant something more

But then, jealousy crept in. You started noticing how other girls still flirted with him — especially a girl named Mei Mei from the business department who was bold and gorgeous. You hated how it made you feel.

So you did what you always did when feelings got too complicated: you pushed back harder.

You hooked up with someone else. Just once. A random guy. It was mediocre at best.

When Satoru found out — because of course he did — something in him cracked.

That night the sex was different — rougher, almost angry. He fucked you like he was trying to erase the memory of anyone else inside you. He had you on all fours, your back arching as he thrusted deep and hard, whispering filthy things mixed with soft pleas.

“Only me… fuck, please let it be only me…”

You came harder than you had in weeks. Afterwards, he didn’t try to make you stay. He just lay there, an arm over his eyes, breathing uneven. You dressed in silence, but before you left, you hesitated at the door.

“Satoru…”

“Don’t,” he said quietly. “Just… go.”

You left. And it felt like shit.

—

The following week was hell. You threw yourself into classes, assignments, and parties — anything to keep your mind off the way Satoru had looked at you that night. The quiet defeat in his voice still echoed in your head. You hated it. You hated how it made your chest feel tight.

You didn’t text him. He didn’t text you. The silence was worse than the fighting. Your best friend noticed something was wrong and cornered you on campus

“Okay, spill. What’s going on with you and Gojo? He looks like shit and you’ve been acting weird.”

You shrugged, pushing food around your plate.

“Nothing. We’re just… casual.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Casual doesn’t usually make two people look miserable.”

You didn’t answer.

That night, around 10pm., your phone lit up.

He showed up at your dorm in fifteen minutes, wearing a black hoodie and sweats, looking exhausted.

“I try, I really try to stop thinking about you, to stop wanting to see you. ‘Cause you’re killing me” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Slowly, painfully”

You froze.

“I told you from the beginning what this was.” you said quietly, not looking at him

He let out a bitter laugh. He looked wrecked — hair messy, lips swollen, eyes glassy.

“Yeah. You did.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Doesn’t stop me from being in love with you though.”

The words hit you like a slap. You stared at him, heart hammering.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” His voice cracked. “It’s true. I’ve been falling for you since that first night. And you know it. You’ve always known it.”

You felt panic rising in your chest. This was too much. Too real.

He stepped closer, cupping your face with both hands. His thumbs brushed your cheeks almost tenderly.

“I know you’re scared. I see it. But I’m right here. I’ll keep letting you use me if that’s what you need… but fuck, it hurts.”

This time, the sex was slower. He took his time undressing you, kissing every inch of skin he exposed. When he finally pushed inside you, it was deep and deliberate, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

“I love you,” he whispered as he moved inside you, voice raw. “I love you so fucking much.”

You closed your eyes, refusing to say it back. But your body betrayed you — clinging to him, nails digging into his back, legs wrapped tight around his waist.

He made you come twice like that — slow, deep, devastating — before he finally let himself finish.

Afterwards, he didn’t let you leave the bed. He pulled you against his chest and held you tight, even when you tried to pull away. He didn’t ask, but you stayed.

When morning came, you slipped out of his arms again while he was still sleeping. You left a note on the nightstand:

Lock the door when you leave

He read it three times, then crumpled it in his fist. For the first time in months, he didn’t text you. He didn’t chase. 

—

You spent the next five days pretending everything was fine. You went to class, laughed with friends. But nothing felt right. Every time your phone buzzed, your heart jumped, hoping it was him. It never was.

On the sixth night, your best friend dragged you to a big party. The moment you walked in, you saw him.

Satoru was in the living room, surrounded by people as usual. But something was different. He had a drink in his hand and Mei Mei practically draped over his arm, laughing loudly at something he said. Her fingers traced circles on his chest.

Your stomach twisted violently.

You told yourself you didn’t care. You grabbed a strong drink and forced yourself to flirt with the first decent guy who approached you. But your eyes kept drifting back to him.

When your eyes met across the room, his expression went blank for a second. Then he pulled Mei Mei closer, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle.

That was the breaking point.

You stormed upstairs, heart pounding with anger and something that felt dangerously like heartbreak. Two minutes later the door opened.

Satoru stepped inside and locked it behind him.

“You really moved on fast,” you snapped before he could speak.

He laughed bitterly, walking toward you.

“Me? You’re the one who left a fucking note telling me to ‘lock the door when you leave’ after I told you I loved you.”

“You were letting Mei Mei crawl all over you, that’s how you love?”

“Because you keep pushing me away!” His voice rose. “What the hell do you want from me? You fuck me, you leave, you tell me not to fall for you, but the second I give someone else attention you lose it?”

You were breathing hard, chest tight with emotions you refused to name.

“I never asked you to wait for me.”

“No, you didn’t.” He stepped closer until you were inches apart. “But I did it anyway. Like an idiot.”

Something snapped between you. You crashed into him at the same time he reached for you. The kiss was violent — teeth clashing, tongues fighting, hands grabbing desperately. He shoved you onto the bed, crawling over you and pinning your wrists above your head with one hand.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he growled, biting down on your neck hard enough to leave a mark. “I hate how much I need you.”

“Shut up” you hissed, but your voice cracked.

He ripped your dress open, buttons flying. He didn’t bother with gentleness. He shoved your bra down and sucked hard on your nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive bud while his hand pushed your panties aside. Two thick fingers plunged inside you without warning, curling instantly against your g-spot.

You arched off the bed with a loud moan.

“So wet already,” he muttered against your skin. “Always so fucking ready for me.”

He finger-fucked you roughly, thumb rubbing fast circles on your clit until your thighs shook. When you were right on the edge, he pulled his fingers out, ignoring your frustrated whine.

He freed his cock — rock hard, flushed dark, already leaking precum. He rolled on a condom in record time and slammed into you in one brutal thrust.

“Fuck!” you cried out, nails digging into his shoulders.

He didn’t hold back. He fucked you like he was punishing both of you — deep strokes that made the bed slam against the wall. Every thrust dragged against that perfect spot inside you, sending sparks of pleasure-pain through your body.

“Look at me,” he demanded, grabbing your chin. His blue eyes were wild, glassy with lust and heartbreak. “Look at me while I fuck you.”

You locked eyes with him as he pounded into you. The intensity was overwhelming. He leaned down, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged.

“I’ll say it again because I mean it,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I love you.”

Tears stung your eyes. You didn’t answer. Instead you pulled him down into a desperate kiss, legs wrapping tighter around his waist.

He changed angles slightly, hitting even deeper. Your orgasm crashed over you without warning — hard, shattering, leaving you sobbing his name as your walls clenched around him.

He groaned loudly, hips stuttering as he came right after you, burying himself as deep as possible.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. He stayed inside you, face buried in your neck. You could feel his tears against your skin.

He pulled out slowly and started dressing. When you noticed his hands were shaking you sat up, chest aching.

He looked at you one last time, eyes red-rimmed. “If you ever figure out what you actually want you know where to find me. But I’m done chasing.”

He left.

You stared at the ceiling for ten minutes, feeling emptier than you ever had, silent tears streaming down your face.

—

The next two weeks were the worst of your life. You avoided parties. Avoided friends. Threw yourself into studying until you burned out. Every night you stared at your phone, thumb hovering over his contact.

You missed him.

Not just the sex. You missed his stupid jokes, his voice, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.

The denial finally cracked on a rainy Thursday night.

You showed up at his apartment soaked from the rain, banging on the door at 2 a.m.

When he opened it, he looked like shit — bags under his eyes, hair messy, wearing only sweatpants.

You didn’t say anything. You just stepped forward and kissed him. This time it was different.

The kiss was desperate and messy, rain dripping from your hair onto his bare chest. Satoru froze for half a second, then his arms wrapped around you like he was afraid you’d disappear again. He pulled you inside, kicking the door shut behind you without breaking the kiss.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured against your lips, but he didn’t let go. His hands slid under your wet shirt, gripping your waist like he needed to feel you were real.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were tired, guarded, but that familiar softness was still there underneath the pain.

“I’ve been scared. Scared of how much I want you. Scared that the second I stopped pretending I didn’t care, you’d have the power to break my heart. So I pushed you away. And in the process, I hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

He searched your face, as if trying to figure out whether this was real or just another moment that would disappear by tomorrow.

“I meant what I said. I’m in love with you but I can’t do the back and forth anymore. I need to know if you’re really here… or if you’re going to run again in the morning.”

You looked straight into those beautiful blue eyes and finally stopped lying to yourself.

“I’m here. I want you. All of you. No more running. No more pretending it’s just sex”

Your throat tightened, but for the first time, the words didn’t terrify you.

“I love you, Satoru.”

For a moment, he just stared at you.

Like he couldn’t quite believe he’d heard those words.

A shaky laugh escaped him, and he dragged a hand over his face. When he looked at you again, his eyes were bright.

“Say that again.”

You smiled through your tears.

“I love you.”

He pulled you into a deep kiss, holding your face between his hands like you were the most precious thing in the world. When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.

“I’ve waited so long to hear that.”

Without another word, he stood up, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to his bathroom.

He set you down gently on the edge of the large bathtub and turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until it was perfectly warm.

Neither of you spoke while he helped you out of your soaked clothes. The wet fabric clung stubbornly to your skin, and more than once his fingertips brushed bare skin, making your breath catch.

He tossed the clothes aside and poured a generous amount of bath oil into the water, watching as fragrant foam slowly filled the tub.

“Come here, baby.”

He helped you into the tub first, then slid in behind you, pulling your back against his chest. The warm water enveloped both of you, soothing and relaxing.

Satoru’s hands started moving slowly over your body.

He began with your shoulders, his long fingers pressing firmly into the tense muscles, massaging them in slow, deep circles. You let out a soft moan as he worked out the knots you didn’t even realize you had. His hands traveled down your arms, then back up, rubbing gently.

Then he scooped up handfuls of foam and spread it across your chest, his palms gliding smoothly over your breasts. He massaged them tenderly, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they hardened under his touch. The combination of warm water, slippery foam, and his careful hands made your body melt against him.

His hands moved lower, rubbing slow circles over your stomach, then your hips and thighs under the water, massaging with firm, loving strokes. Every touch was gentle but deliberate, like he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

You were breathing heavier now, arousal mixing with the deep relaxation.

“Satoru…” you whispered.

He hummed against your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your skin while one of his hands slipped between your thighs. His fingers found your clit easily under the water, rubbing slow, teasing circles.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, voice husky. “All mine.”

The tension built quickly. You turned your head to kiss him, needy and deep. He groaned into your mouth as you shifted, turning around to straddle him in the tub.

Water sloshed over the edges as you sank down onto his cock in one smooth motion. Both of you moaned loudly at the feeling. He was so deep like this, the warm water making everything feel even more intense and slippery.

“Fuck, baby…” he groaned, hands gripping your hips tightly.

“I love you,” you breathed against his lips as you started riding him slowly at first, hands braced on his shoulders, eyes locked on his.

Satoru’s breath hitched. “I love you too,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion. “I love you so fucking much.”

The foam and water moved between your bodies as you rocked against him. Satoru’s hands roamed everywhere — squeezing your ass, sliding up your back, cupping your breasts again while you moved.

Soon the pace quickened. He thrust up to meet you, water splashing rhythmically as he fucked you deeper. One of his hands slipped between you again, rubbing your clit in fast circles.

“I got you” he murmured 

Your orgasm hit you hard, crying out his name as your walls clenched tightly around his bare cock. The feeling pushed Satoru over the edge right after you — with a deep, broken moan he buried himself as deep as possible and came inside you, spilling hot and thick into your pussy.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck. You held him close, fingers running through his damp white hair while the two of you slowly came back down.

Then he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest.

“No more running?” he asked quietly.

“No more running,” you promised, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “I’m yours. If you’ll still have me after everything I put you through.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “I was always going to take you back. I’m pathetic when it comes to you.”

“You’re not pathetic,” you said, lifting your head to look at him. “You’re patient. And kind. And way too good for me.”

Satoru smiled — that real, bright smile you hadn’t seen in weeks — and kissed you softly.

“We’re going to do this properly. Dates. Actual dates. I’m taking you out tomorrow night. No excuses.”

You laughed, the sound light and free. “Deal.”

—

Seven months later

“Stop that”

Satoru looked up from his phone, where he had just taken yet another candid photo of you, and grinned unapologetically. That bright, boyish smile still made your chest flutter even after all this time.

“I have a hot girlfriend,” he said with a shrug. “Sue me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “You’ve taken like twenty pictures already. Delete some.”

“Nope,” he replied, leaning back against the couch with zero shame. “These are going straight into my ‘how did I pull this’ folder.”

You threw a pen at him. He caught it effortlessly, laughing.

“Well, actually, I know how,” he said, counting on his fingers. “Relentless dedication. Natural charm. Soft hair. Being more emotionally available. And my amazing dick, probably.”

“The fact that you think that’s the reason is genuinely concerning.”

“So you’re saying there was a chance even without the amazing dick?”

“Satoru.”

He laughed louder, clearly pleased with himself, and then he stood up and walked over, dropping down behind you on the floor where you were studying. He wrapped his long arms around your waist and pulled you back against his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I love you,” he murmured, voice soft and warm against your skin. “Even when you pretend to be annoyed by my photos.”

You leaned your head back against his shoulder, smiling. “I love you too, Toru”

THE END

cr: @_3aem on X for the art used in Satoru's text :)

If you enjoyed it, reblogs and comments are always appreciated ♡

[tays-writing]

Satoru Gojo x Reader

Your boyfriend looked too good in his black suit, and you couldn’t help but suck him off under the table at his cousin’s wedding ♥️

CW: NSFW. Blowjob, handjob, risk of getting caught.

The wedding party was alive with pop music, clinking glasses, and distant laughter, but your world had narrowed down to the man beside you. Satoru looked sinful in his black suit, long legs stretched under the table, snowy hair glowing under the dim lights. You’d only had two glasses of champagne, enough to make you bold and horny.

You leaned into him, lips brushing his ear. “You’re so fucking hot tonight,” you whispered, letting your hand slide up his thigh under the heavy tablecloth.

Satoru’s breath hitched. “Baby…” he said, a warning wrapped in amusement. “There are people everywhere.”

“I know,” you purred, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “I don’t care.”

Feeling bold, you sucked his sensitive skin gently, then harder, tasting him while your fingers traced the growing bulge in his pants.

He groaned softly, one hand gripping your wrist, but not stopping you. “You’re going to get us caught.”

You smiled against his throat and slowly dragged his zipper down. When you slipped your hand inside, you found him already rock-hard, hot and throbbing in your palm. You wrapped your fingers around his thick length and gave him one slow, teasing stroke.

“Fuck,” Satoru hissed between his teeth. “You’re really doing this right now?”

Instead of answering, you kissed lower, nipping at his collarbone while stroking him steadily under the table. Precum was already beading at the tip, and you stroked it with your thumb just the way he liked.

His breathing grew ragged. “Baby, there’s people—my aunt keeps looking over here—”

“Then stop me,” you challenged, your voice sweet and wicked.

You squeezed him tighter, pumping him faster, your thumb swirling over the sensitive head.

Satoru’s head tipped back slightly, his jaw tight. He looked like he was seconds away from losing control.

You glanced around quickly. It was really dark, and most guests were focused on the dance floor. Heart hammering, you slipped down between his legs under the table, disappearing beneath the long white tablecloth.

“Shit—!” Satoru’s whisper was sharp, but he didn’t pull you back up.

You freed his cock completely, thick and flushed, pulsing under your tongue as you licked a long stripe from base to tip.

You took him into your mouth, sucking gently at first, then deeper, bobbing your head and taking as much of him as you could, hollowing your cheeks while your hand worked the rest.

Above you, Satoru was falling apart. His voice was barely audible.

“Fuck, baby… I won’t last…”

You sucked harder, faster, saliva dripping down his shaft as you worked him desperately, the wet, obscene sounds muffled by the music.

“I’m close—shit, I’m so close—”

You took him deeper, eyes watering, determined to finish him. A few seconds later, his cock pulsed hard on your tongue. He came with a choked groan he tried to swallow down, thick ropes of cum spilling into your mouth, a bit trickling down the corner of your lips.

When he finally stopped pulsing, you carefully tucked him back into his pants and zipped him up.

You emerged from under the table a moment later, lips slightly swollen, cheeks flushed. Satoru looked wrecked—cheeks pink, eyes dark, chest still rising and falling fast.

Without missing a beat, you grabbed a napkin from the table and discreetly wiped your mouth, folding it neatly like nothing had happened. Then you leaned in and kissed his jaw sweetly.

“Delicious,” you whispered against his ear. “The best dish of the night.”

Satoru let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh and pulled you against his side, his arm wrapping possessively around your waist.

“You’re actually insane,” he murmured, his voice rough with lingering pleasure. “I can’t believe you just did that. In front of my whole fucking family.”

You smiled innocently, nuzzling into his neck. “It’s your fault for looking too good.”

He laughed and kissed you.

“Ten minutes,” he said on your lips “Then I’m dragging you out of here and fucking you so hard you won’t be be able to walk or think straight for a whole week.”

You bit your lip, thighs pressing together at the thought.

“Make it five.”

Quick drabble !

[tays-writing]

Gojo Coded

Xavier is forced into a Satoru Gojo cosplay. He handles it about as well as expected. At least you have a camera roll full of cute and sexy photos!

CW: suggestive

Tags: fluff, crack, jealous and possessive Xavier, established relationship

You knew you were pushing your luck the second the words left your mouth.

Xavier was lying on the couch with his head in your lap, silver hair soft and slightly messy under your fingers. He looked peaceful, eyes half-lidded as he played some idle game on his phone. But the moment you showed him reference pictures of Satoru Gojo in the black uniform and round sunglasses, asking him to cosplay for you, his entire body tensed.

“No.”

The answer was immediate, flat, and grumpy.

“Xavieeeer,” you whined, running your fingers soothingly through his hair. “Just once. You don’t even need a wig. Just the uniform, the sunglasses, maybe style it a little spikier on top. Pretty please?”

You pouted, fluttering your eyelashes.

He looked up at you. Those usually soft blue eyes were narrowed with clear displeasure.

“You want me to dress up as that loud, arrogant idiot who never shuts up?”

You bit your lip to hide a smile.

“You missed the part about him being the strongest sorcerer in the world.”

“No, that’s me.”

“You’re not a sorcerer,” you said, poking his cheek.

Xavier sat up slowly, the jealousy already radiating off him. He hated this idea. Deeply.

“I’m right here, and you’re fantasizing about some fictional idiot,” he muttered, voice low and edged with that rare possessive tone.

“I’m not fantasizing about him. I’m fantasizing about you as him,” you corrected, crawling into his lap and cupping his face. “It’ll be fun.”

You kissed him.

“And I’ll make it worth your while,” you added against his lips.

Xavier’s hands settled on your hips, gripping a little tighter than usual. His eyes searched yours, grumpy but already giving in.

Somehow, he never seemed capable of refusing you for long.

“Fine,” he said at last, sighing like you’d asked him to stay awake for a week. “But I’m doing this my way. And you’re going to regret asking.”

You grinned.

“Perfect.”

—

The styling took almost no time.

Xavier’s hair was already nearly perfect—that gorgeous silver that looked almost ethereal.

You just ran some product through it, tousling the top to make it spikier and letting a few strands fall messily over his forehead.

He sat there the whole time with his arms crossed, wearing the most unimpressed expression imaginable.

“You look illegally good,” you whispered, stepping back to admire him once he had the black Jujutsu High uniform on.

The jacket hugged his broad shoulders and trim waist perfectly.

You handed him the round sunglasses.

Xavier slid them on, then pushed them down the bridge of his nose just enough to glare at you over the top.

“Happy?”

Your mind went blank. The combination of his natural silver hair, those glowing blue eyes peeking over the dark lenses, and the fitted uniform made him look dangerously hot. Gojo-coded, but still unmistakably Xavier—quiet, lethal, and now extremely grumpy.

“You have no idea,” you breathed.

He pulled you close by the waist, voice low and possessive.

“Good. Because this is the only time I’m pretending to be anyone else. You’re mine. Not his.”

You laughed, oddly fond of the fact that he seemed genuinely jealous of a fictional character.

The photoshoot started innocently enough in the living room.

Xavier stood in the middle, arms crossed, looking every bit the reluctant model.

“Pose like Gojo,” you said, bouncing excitedly on your feet.

He gave you a long, unimpressed look.

Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he tilted his head in that signature arrogant way, silver hair catching the light.

He looked effortlessly cool.

“Like this?” he asked, voice flat.

“Yes.”

Click.

“Perfect.”

Click. Click. Click.

Xavier frowned as you continued taking pictures from every possible angle.

“You’ve taken thirty already.”

“I’m documenting history.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“I’m looking at you dressed as Gojo. I’m not being dramatic enough.”

His expression immediately soured.

“It’s still me.”

“Exactly.”

That seemed to satisfy him enough to continue.

“Okay, next one. Do Hollow Purple.”

He sighed but played along, raising one hand in the familiar gesture.

“Hollow Purple.”

The way he said it—low, sleepy, completely unenthusiastic—made you squeal.

He stared at you for a moment. Then his Evol flickered to life around his fingertips.

Your jaw dropped. You were suddenly very tempted to kiss him, but you forced yourself to stay focused.

“Next line.”

“There are more?”

“There are so many more.”

A look of pure regret crossed his face.

“Say, ‘Are you crying?’”

Xavier lowered the sunglasses slightly, revealing just enough of those bright blue eyes to stare directly at you.

“Are you crying?”

The delivery was so smug you almost forgot how to breathe.

“I love my life right now.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

He was secretly enjoying how much you were smiling.

“Next pose. Look over your shoulder and say ‘Next’ like you just finished a big bad Wanderer.”

He obeyed.

“Next.”

The word rolled off his tongue with such effortless arrogance that you felt weak.

For the next twenty minutes, you snapped photo after photo and filmed video after video of him delivering iconic lines.

“Nah, I’d win.”

“Throughout Heaven and Earth, I alone am the honored one.”

Each one somehow sounded more ridiculous coming from Xavier’s sleepy voice.

“Last one,” you said. “The Domain Expansion pose.”

He gave you a deadpan stare.

Then, lazily raising one hand in the familiar sign, he looked straight into your camera.

“Domain Expansion: Stop looking at other men.”

You burst out laughing, still clutching your phone.

Before you could line up another shot, he reached into the pocket of the uniform pants and pulled out the black blindfold you had bought as a prop.

Your eyes widened. “oh my god, you  actually kept it in your pocket this whole time? Are you… are you going to put it on?”

Xavier didn’t answer right away. A dangerous, jealous little smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. In the blink of an eye, he teleported directly behind you. His chest pressed firmly against your back

“No, my star,” he whispered hotly against your ear. Then  you felt the soft fabric  slide over your eyes. “You’re the one using it tonight.” 

Your heart skipped.

“Xavier—”

“Mm?”

The amusement in his voice made your stomach flip.

“Let’s remind you exactly who you belong to.”

He turned you around and kissed you — not soft like usual, but deep, demanding, and full of all that pent-up possessiveness. He lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you toward the bedroom

“Is this what you wanted?” he murmured, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck while his hands roamed possessively over your thighs and hips. “Your quiet, soft  boyfriend turning into a jealous, possessive version of that idiot?”

Heat rushed to your face. Unfortunately for you, your answer only seemed to encourage him 

—

The next morning, you woke up feeling surprisingly well-rested.

For approximately three seconds.

Then you tried to move, just to be reminded of the  poor decision you’d made the previous evening.

The mattress dipped beside you. One sleepy blue eye cracked open, watching you with lazy amusement.

“Morning, starlight,” Xavier murmured, voice rough and low from sleep

You stared at him. He stared back, completely innocent

“…”

“…”

Xavier glanced down. Then back up at you.

Then a tiny, satisfied smirk slowly appear  onto his lips.

“You should probably stay in bed.”

You immediately buried your face in a pillow.

The quiet laugh that followed was entirely too pleased with itself.

Gojo could keep his Infinity. You had Xavier. 

And apparently, very wobbly legs as proof of just how much he loves you.

[tays-writing]

If you were sober (part 2)

Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

part 1 here

The morning after changes nothing, and everything.

Tags: angst, miscommunication, unspoken feelings, denial of feelings

The first thing that registered through the haze of a killer hangover was the smell of laundry detergent that didn’t belong to you. 

You blinked against the aggressive morning light cutting through the blinds, instantly recognizing the minimalist, slightly chaotic layout of Satoru’s bedroom. You were tangled in his duvet, wearing a white  cotton T-shirt that swallowed your frame entirely, the hem pooling somewhere near your mid-thigh.

Your head throbbed with a dull, rhythmic ache. But as you sat up, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes, the physical discomfort was instantly sidelined by a sudden, jarring rush of memory.

You’re too beautiful to be real sometimes

You froze, your breath hitching. You remembered saying it. You remembered the exact texture of his cheekbone under your thumb, the way his skin felt against your skin. And then—the bedroom door. The slurred, demanding request for a goodnight kiss. The memory of your lips grazing his was faint, clumsy, and terrifyingly real.

A heavy weight dropped into the pit of your stomach. It wasn’t panic, exactly; it was a dizzying shift in gravity. For years, Satoru had been the steady ground beneath your feet—the best friend who knew your coffee order, the one who picked up the phone at three in the morning, the one who integrated so seamlessly into your life that you never questioned the boundaries.

But waking up in his shirt today felt different. The fabric against your skin felt less like a borrowed favor and more like a mark.

Picking up your skirt and top from where he had left them neatly folded, you felt a flush of heat creep up your neck as you slipped into the hallway. The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the distinct clink of ceramic from the kitchen.

Satoru was standing by the counter, barefoot, wearing gray sweatpants and a rumpled white hoodie. His hair was a white  mess, falling over his eyes as he stared intensely at the espresso machine. He looked entirely normal. Entirely like himself.

"If you stare at it any harder, it’s going to explode," you muttered.

Satoru didn’t flinch. He turned around smoothly, a lazy, effortlessly bright grin instantly slotting into place. "Look who’s alive. I was about to check if I needed to call a priest." He said while sliding a mug across the island toward you. "Black, two sugars. Drink up, lightweight."

You walked over, your thighs brushing against the edge of the barstool as you sat down. You kept your eyes fixed on the mug, desperately trying to read his energy. Was he acting different? Was he tense?

"Thanks," you murmured, wrapping your hands around the warm ceramic. You took a sip, letting the heat ground you before you cleared your throat. "So... about last night."

Satoru paused, a carton of milk hovering over his own cup. He didn’t look up immediately 

"What about it?"

"Did I... did I do anything stupid?" You forced a small, tentative laugh, peering at him through the steam. "I have these weird flashes."

"You practically threw your clothes at the ceiling and then—" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter, his face inches from yours, his grin widening. "—you forced me to give you a goodnight kiss. Which you then botched entirely, by the way. Cutest, most pathetic prank I've ever seen."

The words hit you like a bucket of ice water. He was laughing. He was making it a joke.

"Next time you want to hit on the most attractive man in Tokyo, at least do it when you can walk a straight line," he continued, straightening up and taking a sip of his ridiculously sweet coffee.

You rolled your eyes, hiding your embarrassment. "M’sorry. The tequila really took over."

"Don't worry about it," Satoru said lightly, turning back to the stove. "What are best friends for?"

He didn't see the way your smile faded the moment his back was turned. He didn't see the strange, hollow ache that opened up in your chest. 

You felt a lingering, heavy confusion. Because the memory of his skin under your hand hadn't felt like a joke. But looking at him now—so casual, so entirely unaffected—you realized it had all been in your head. A symptom of too many drinks and a lonely heart.

"Sorry for cockblocking you, by the way," you added suddenly, the words leaving your mouth before you could filter them. You forced a teasing, easygoing smirk onto your face. "I remember there were like, three different girls practically climbing you. But  you had to leave early just to play babysitter."

For a second, something flickered across Satoru’s face, gone  so quickly that you couldn’t identify it.

“Oh no,” he said, hand to his chest. “Now they’re angry and I’ll have to work twice as hard next time.”

You snorted into your coffee.

The familiar rhythm settled between you again, easy and automatic and you  relaxed slightly. Because if Satoru was joking, then maybe you hadn’t ruined anything after all.

***

Cockblocking.

The word felt like a physical slap. He hadn't even looked at those girls. He couldn't remember a single face, a single voice, or a single name. The only thing his brain had registered all night was you, drowning your disappointment in drinks because your boyfriend couldn't be bothered to show up.

But to you, he was just Satoru Gojo—the effortless flirt who always had someone waiting in his wings.

He was smiling, joking. But inside his own head, Satoru was bleeding out. Every syllable had felt like pulling his own skin without anesthesia. It was the hardest performance of his life—a miserable, necessary act to keep you from seeing the pathetic truth: he would have dropped a hundred beautiful women just to hold your jacket.

The sound of your phone cut through his thoughts. He watched as you glanced down at the screen, your expression shuttering instantly. Kyo. You flipped the phone face down, but the damage was done. The reality of your life was bleeding back into the sanctuary of Satoru’s apartment.

Satoru’s eyes flicked to the phone, then back to your face. His casual, lazy posture stiffened, just for a heartbeat.

"Trouble in paradise?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

You sighed, the coffee mug feeling heavy. "Mmh. We need to talk, I think. We haven't been... good. For a while, actually. Things are just really bad."

Satoru felt a strange, cold spike in his chest—a mix of hope and raw jealousy he couldn’t name.

He watched you for a second longer than necessary, like there was something he wasn’t supposed to say sitting on the tip of his tongue.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” he asked instead.

You nodded “That’d be great.”

—

In the car, the silence was heavy, but Satoru turned on the radio, filling the void with an upbeat, rhythmic track that clashed violently with the tension inside the cabin. At least, it made it a little easier to ignore the complicated feelings lurking in the shadows.

When he pulled up to your building, you reached for the door handle, but you paused. You turned to look at him, and for a moment, the mask slipped.

“Thanks for last night,” you said softly.

Satoru’s smile softened into something real, something that didn't reach his eyes but reached straight into yours. “Anytime.”

He said it lightly, but the moment the word left his lips, his chest tightened exactly the way it had when you’d whispered that he was too beautiful to be real.

Anytime.

If you called him at three in the morning, he would answer.

Anytime.

If your boyfriend forgot to show up, he would be there.

Anytime.

If your world was falling apart, he would be the one to pick up the pieces, even if it meant he was the one left shattered.

He dismissed the thoughts with a shake of his head, forcing a bright, teasing smile back onto his face. You nodded, climbing out of the car and into the cool afternoon air.

He stayed in the driver's seat, watching your silhouette until you disappeared inside the building. Only when the lobby door clicked shut and you were safely out of sight did the smile finally vanish.

He leaned his forehead against the wheel, closing his eyes, and let out a long breath. The performance was over, and for the next few hours, he didn't have to be the best friend. He could just be a man who was losing his mind.

—

Suguru opened the door before he could knock. He took one look at Satoru’s face and visibly recoiled.

“Jesus Christ.”

Satoru frowned.

“What?”

“You look like a monkey with depression who got punched and didn’t fight back.”

Satoru stared at him.

“That’s weirdly specific.” He narrowed his eyes. “And what exactly is your problem with monkeys?”

Suguru rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let him in.

“I don’t see any bruises, so…” He shut the door behind them. “I’m assuming it was something much, much worse.”

Satoru dropped onto the nearest chair, looking entirely undone

“She called me pretty. Told me I was too beautiful to be real.”

Suguru blinked.

“…Okay.”

“Stripped down to her underwear in the middle of my living room”

Suguru’s eyes widened

“And then, just to make sure I would never know peace again, she decided it would be hilarious to give me a peck as a joke. She giggled for ten seconds afterward and then practically powered down like a laptop.”

Something that looked dangerously close to pity crossed Suguru’s face as he slowly sat down across from him.

Before he could say anything, Satoru continued.

“And this morning she apologized for cockblocking me.”

There was a pause. Suguru pressed his lips together.

Satoru immediately pointed at him.

“Don’t.”

Suguru looked away.

“Don’t.”

His shoulders started shaking.

“Suguru.”

A strangled sound escaped him.

Satoru’s eye twitched.

“I’m glad my suffering is entertaining.”

“I’m sorry,” Suguru managed.

He absolutely was not.

“That is genuinely one of the worst things I’ve ever heard.” 

Satoru dragged both hands down his face.

“But it doesn’t surprise me,” Suguru continued

That made Satoru look up.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“From her perspective, it makes perfect sense.” Suguru gestured vaguely in his direction. “You’re attractive. You flirt with everyone. You act like relationships are a temporary inconvenience. You're with a new girl tangled in your sheets every week.”

“You know damn well that’s not—”

Suguru cut him off immediately. “It’s exactly what you’ve spent years showing her”

Silence settled between them. Satoru looked away, his throat tight. 

“So of course she thinks she cockblocked you,” Suguru continued. “Of course she thinks you would’ve rather gone home with some random girl  from the party than spend your night taking care of her.”

Satoru shook his head, frustrated with himself. 

With Suguru. 

With you.

“You act like this is something that happened to you,” Suguru said. “Like all this misery just fell into your lap out of nowhere.”

Satoru didn’t answer.

“The pining. The constant moping.”

A muscle jumped in Satoru’s jaw. He already hated where this was going.

“You built this,” he continued. “And now you’re drowning in the exact situation you worked so hard to create.”

Satoru laughed once. A short, sharp sound.

“You keep acting like you’re protecting her. Protecting the friendship. Protecting the timing.” Suguru held his gaze. “But mostly you’re protecting yourself.”

That shut him up. The words hit  harder than he wanted them to.

“You don’t get to spend years building a cage and then complain that you’re trapped inside it.”

“Right. Because telling my best friend I’m in love with her while she’s dating someone else is such a fantastic plan.”

“I didn’t say confess.”

“Then what are you saying?”

Suguru leaned back against the couch.

“Stop helping her convince herself you don’t care.”

Satoru sighed.

What was the point? You were still with Kyo.

—

The drive back to your apartment was a blur. Satoru had been the perfect friend, humming along to the radio, making light, dismissive jokes about how you should “stick to water” in the future. He was so infuriatingly Satoru that, by the time he pulled up to your building, the back of your throat felt raw.

For the first time in years, the space between you felt like a minefield. You scrambled out of the car, waved a distracted goodbye, and didn’t look back.

Your apartment was exactly as you had left it yesterday, but it felt hollow anyway, like something had shifted in the air without asking permission.

You kicked off your shoes and walked through the hallway in silence, not really registering anything around you, until you reached the bathroom.

Cold water hit your face. You stayed there for a moment longer than necessary, hands braced on the sink, staring at your reflection like it might explain something.

Then your phone buzzed on the counter.

Kyo.

You stared at the screen.

“Are you still in his apartment?”

A second passed.

Then you typed:

“No. I’m in my apartment. We need to talk.”

—

I rewrote every paragraph of this one a million times 😭

idk what you think but they piss me off in a delicious way, if that makes sense.

anyway, i promise next (and last i think) part, they won't be as stupid !!

@pandoras-boxof-secrets @thegirlwhowaited5everok @wiserion

[tays-writing]

If you were sober

Satoru Gojo x Reader

part 2 here

Satoru has spent years wanting you from afar, quietly enduring every mention of your boyfriend and pretending it doesn’t bother him.

Then one drunken night leaves you in his care, looking at him a little too fondly, touching him a little too gently, and saying all the things he’s spent years wishing were true.

fic tag: Satoru is down BAD. lol

The party had gotten out of hand, as usual.

Gojo had spent most of the night doing what he always did—charming everyone without even trying. A few girls had gravitated toward him almost immediately, laughing a little too hard at his jokes, accepting drinks he barely remembered ordering, hanging on every lazy smile he threw their way. From the outside, he looked completely entertained.

In reality, he hadn’t stopped keeping track of you all night.

You were supposed to be there with Kyo. Instead, you had shown up alone after yet another last-minute excuse from your boyfriend. Gojo didn’t comment on it. He simply watched you from across the room as you nursed a drink. Then another. Then a third. By two in the morning, your laugh had grown brighter, your movements looser, and your balance slightly questionable.

The moment he saw you nearly miss the stairs, he was already moving.

“Alright,” he said, sliding a steady hand to your lower back. “Party’s over for you.”

You looked up at him with an exaggerated pout, eyes glassy.

“Already?”

A few minutes later he was guiding you out, your weight leaning warmly against him.

He lifted his gaze briefly toward Suguru across the room.

“I’m taking her home” Gojo said over the music to his friend.

Suguru’s mouth curved into something knowing, almost amused, before he nodded.

A few eyes followed you as you passed, some curious, some less friendly, but he didn’t care enough to acknowledge any of them.

Inside his car the city lights slid across your face in soft orange and white streaks. The radio played low. For several minutes silence stretched between you, comfortable yet heavy. Until he realized you hadn’t stopped staring at him.

“Something on my face?” he asked lightly, eyes fixed on the road.

You kept looking.

“No,” you said after a pause. “You’re just really pretty.”

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

The alcohol was talking. Sober you would never say that. Still, the words sank into him like warm knives.

“Yeah?” He tried for his usual teasing tone. “And here I thought you were finally developing vision problems.”

You frowned, as if he had completely missed the point.

“I’m serious.” Your voice was soft, almost reverent. “You’re too beautiful to be real sometimes.”

For a second the road blurred. His chest felt painfully tight. He had imagined hearing those words so many times—late at night, when he let himself be weak and stupid and hopeful. When he allowed himself to want what belonged to someone else.

“You had too much to drink,” he murmured.

“No,” you insisted quietly. “I’ve always thought that.”

That hurt more. Not because he believed it, but because some pathetic part of him desperately wanted to.

You shifted closer in the seat. Before he could brace himself, your hand rose to his cheek, thumb brushing gently against his skin. Every muscle in his body went rigid.

Focus on the road. Focus on the damn road.

Thankfully, the apartment building appeared moments later.

—

Getting you upstairs was a battle of its own. You leaned heavily against him, giggling at nothing and everything, your warmth seeping through his shirt. By the time he managed to unlock the door and get you inside, he was already in the kitchen preparing a glass of water.

“Come on, let’s get some—”

He nearly dropped the glass.

You had tossed your skirt aside, standing there in nothing but your tiny top and underwear, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Meanwhile, he was discovering brand-new levels of suffering.

This wasn’t some random girl. This was you—the one who occupied entirely too much space inside his head. The one he had pretended not to love. The girl who had a boyfriend.

A boyfriend.

An important detail that felt increasingly personal every time he failed to show up when you needed him.

“What are you doing?” His voice came out rougher than intended.

You blinked at him, looking genuinely confused.

“Getting comfortable.”

“Can’t you do that in the bedroom?”

You ignored him entirely. Of course you did, you were drunk. Which meant he was currently arguing with a force of nature. A second later your top joined the skirt on the floor.

He looked directly at the ceiling.

“Fantastic.”

“You smell nice,” you said, stepping closer.

“Please stop talking.”

“You do.”

“Please.”

“You always do.”

Each word landed like a punch. Because you had no idea what you were doing to him. No idea how much effort it took to stay where he was, to keep his hands to himself, to keep being good.

He closed his eyes for a brief second and immediately regretted it—because the moment he did, he imagined what it would feel like if you actually meant any of this. If you were sober. If you looked at him like that because you chose him, not because your judgment was currently swimming in alcohol.

The thought hit him so hard he physically stepped back.

“Bedroom,” he ordered, voice low. This time he didn’t leave room for argument. He marched you toward the bedroom like a man escorting himself to execution.

Once you were sitting in the bed he grabbed one of his oversized shirts and pulled it over your head before you could protest. The sight of you in his clothes did dangerous things to his heart. He tucked you in with more gentleness than he should have allowed himself, then stepped back.

“Get some sleep.”

You frowned, eyes already heavy.

“Toru.”

He paused at the door.

“What?”

“You’re forgetting something.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“What am I forgetting?”

You smiled. That lazy, alcohol-softened smile that seemed completely unaware of the damage it caused.

“My goodnight kiss.”

He stared. Months ago, after a movie marathon, you had jokingly demanded one. He had flicked your forehead instead. Since then you occasionally teased him about it. Normally he brushed it off. Tonight nothing felt normal.

“Tooruuu,” you slurred, tapping your cheek. “Goooodnight kiss.”

“You are never drinking again,” he muttered, but he leaned down anyway.

The second he got close, you turned your head.

Your lips brushed his in a quick, clumsy peck. Barely a second. Barely a kiss.

His entire world stopped.

You pulled back giggling, delighted with your little prank, while he remained frozen, bent over you, heart hammering violently against his ribs, still trying to process the last two seconds of his life.

You had kissed him.

It meant nothing. You were drunk. Tomorrow you probably wouldn’t even remember. And yet his brain kept replaying that fleeting touch on loop.

By the time he straightened up, your eyes were already closing. Within a minute your breathing had evened out completely, peaceful and unaware of the wreckage you’d left behind.

He stood there for a long moment, staring at you in his shirt, curled up in his bed, with the faint taste of your lips still lingering on his.

He dragged a hand down his face, feeling utterly miserable. His chest tightened painfully, a sharp squeeze that made it hard to breathe. Just enough to remind him that tomorrow morning you would wake up, laugh about how drunk you’d gotten, and go right back to being Kyo’s girlfriend. And he would still be exactly what he had always been:

Your best friend.

The bedroom door clicked shut behind him with a quiet finality.

[bo0nngie]

I think this bunny is more attractive with glasses

[tays-writing]

where he draws the line

Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

Being loved by the strongest is complicated. Being married to him as a sorcerer from a despised clan makes you dangerous. But no one is foolish enough to cross the line of an utterly devoted man, Right?

The first week after the wedding, Satoru Gojo stopped pretending he had any self-control. Not that he’d had much to begin with. But now? Now he didn’t even try. 

He was fairly certain he was going to live in a permanent honeymoon state forever. And honestly, he wasn’t complaining.

“You’re being obnoxious” you murmured under your breath, keeping your tone carefully neutral as he leaned down behind you, his chin settling comfortably on your shoulder. His weight was lazy, both arms draped around your waist like he’d decided this was his new default position.

“Mmm-no,” he corrected lightly, breath warm against your ear ”I’m being married” 

You kept your eyes forward, expression composed, because the second you acknowledged the fact that Satoru Gojo was practically purring into your neck in front of the entire staff, you would lose whatever dignity you still had left.

You met him at Jujutsu High, back when you were nothing more than two stupid teenagers with too much power and even less sense. It hadn’t been instant. Not even close.

You were a year younger, and he behaved like he owned the place—which, in hindsight, maybe he did. Still, that wasn’t the point.

Then came shared missions. Long nights. Close calls. Feelings you hadn’t planned on—feelings Satoru had made very sure would take root.

And now here you were. Married. Seven days in.

He squeezed your waist once — absentmindedly possessive. You pinched his wrist in retaliation.

He grinned. You didn’t need to see it, you could hear it in the way his shoulders shifted, smug and pleased with himself.

You finally slipped out of his hold just enough to turn and look at him.

“Didn’t you have a class to teach or something?”

He blinked.

“Hm?” one hand came up to his chin, thoughtful “I don’t th—”

“Sensei.” Megumi’s voice cut in before he could finish — flat, cold, and deeply unimpressed. 

He stood a few feet away, posture straight, expression carved from stone as always. His dark eyes are fixed squarely on Gojo’s face.

“Stop behaving like a teenager and come teach the class” he says evenly. “We’re waiting.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Slowly, you look up at your husband.

Megumi’s gaze shifted then — just slightly — and softened when it landed on you.

“Mrs. Gojo” he says, bowing his head a fraction.

“In my defense,” Satoru says thoughtfully, “I forgot.”

Megumi exhaled through his nose.

“You didn’t forget,” he replied flatly. “You ignored it.”

Satoru grinned, shameless.

“Details”

Megumi looked like he was reconsidering every life decision that led him here.

“Sensei” he said again, warning creeping into his tone.

You stepped back, folding your arms. “Go. Teach.”

Satoru sighed like he’d been asked to endure something truly unbearable — but before moving, he leaned down and pressed a quick, warm peck to your lips.

Casual. Unapologetic. In front of Megumi.

“You’re doing that on purpose” you muttered

“Of course I am” Satoru replied brightly.

He finally stepped away, squeezing your hand once more. You smiled, shaking your head as you watched his broad back stroll off toward the exit without a care in the world.

“Let’s go, Megumiiii” he sing-songed as he passed his student.

But Megumi didn’t follow immediately.

He lingered by the doorway, posture relaxed, expression unreadable.

“Mrs. Gojo.”

You looked at him, resisting the urge to tell him he didn’t need to be so formal—neither you nor Satoru cared—but Megumi was endearingly respectful, so you let him have it.

“Megs” you answered, tilting your head.

“He’s worse lately.”

You blinked once. Then raised an eyebrow. “Worse?”

“More…” He hesitated, searching for the word. “…attached.”

A soft huff escaped you before you could stop it. “He’s always been attached.”

Megumi’s gaze dropped for half a second, then returned—sharp. Certain.

“This is different.”

The words settled heavier than they should have, and you didn’t answer right away.

He wasn’t wrong.

There was something different. Something that had crept in quietly beneath the teasing and theatrics, beneath the hands on your waist and the shameless affection.

Something denser. More deliberate. Protective, yes—but not playful. Watchful. Like he was constantly counting exits. Like he was listening for threats that hadn’t arrived yet.

You straightened without realizing it, shoulders squaring.

“Don’t worry,” you said, offering Megumi a small smile. “I’ll fix it.”

It was only half a joke.

You’d known Megumi since he was six years old—played with him, walked him to school, watched him grow. You knew him well enough to recognize concern when he buried it. And the last thing you wanted was for him to feel responsible for something that wasn’t his to carry.

He studied you for another second, then nodded once. Without another word, he turned and headed inside.

You stayed where you were.

And for just a split second—you felt it again.

That distant awareness.

Like someone, somewhere, was watching.

—

Nanami found you where he always did when your thoughts grew heavy.

A quiet corner of the campus, far enough from the main buildings that the noise faded into something distant. You’d started coming here years ago, back when you were still students—back when you and Nanami were simply classmates learning how to survive the system.

Same year. Same rank. Same expectations.

Your friendship had been built in silence, shared exhaustion, and the unspoken understanding of what it meant to be useful to the wrong people.

You were leaning against the railing when he approached, his glasses catching the late afternoon light before he removed them.

“You’re thinking too loudly” he said, resting his forearms beside yours against the cool metal.

That earned a quiet huff of a laugh. “That obvious?”

“With you?” he replied. “Yes.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. Nanami didn’t push—he never did. He waited, patient as always.

He was the person you trusted most after Satoru. And right now, the only one you could speak to freely.

“I feel like the higher-ups have been circling,” you said eventually. “Not openly. Just… watching.”

Nanami turned his head slightly, jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.

“They’re unsettled.”

“Because of Satoru,” you said.

“Because of you” he corrected gently.

You closed your eyes for a moment.

Your technique had never been flashy—no explosions, no spatial distortions. Just amplification. Pure. Terrifying. When you touch another sorcerer, their attacks become absolute. No misfires. No wasted effort.

And power like that had always made people nervous.

Your clan had never fit neatly into jujutsu politics either. Old, but not obedient. Powerful, but uninterested in tradition for tradition’s sake. They’d refused council seats that demanded compliance. Refused marriages arranged for optics.

The higher-ups had done everything they could to keep the Ataru at the edges.

Until you married Satoru Gojo.

“An Ataru married a Gojo” Nanami said quietly. “And not just any Gojo —him. ” he paused only a fraction before adding “They won’t forgive that” 

“No” you murmured, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Silence settled again—heavier this time.

“They don’t like that an Ataru now has access” Nanami continued

You nodded. 

You weren’t just married to a Gojo. You were married to Satoru. The strongest sorcerer alive. A man the higher-ups couldn’t control, punish, or touch.

But you?

You were reachable.

“I won’t abandon my clan,” you said. “And I won’t apologize for my marriage.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

From somewhere deeper in the campus, Satoru’s voice carries—loud, dramatic, unmistakable.

Nanami’s gaze flicked briefly in that direction. When it returns to you, it lingers.

“He will protect you” he says. Not reassuring. Just stating a fact.

You don’t answer. But he notices the way your shoulders have gone rigid. The way your hand tightens against the railing, knuckles paling slightly. Your gaze drops, lashes lowering as your brow knits without you meaning to.

He exhales quietly. He has always been good at reading what people don’t say.

“You don’t want him to” he says after a moment.

The words catch you off guard. You look up at him, surprised —Because he’s right, and because you hadn’t let yourself put it into words yet.

Megumi’s voice echoes in your head. 

This is different.

Not the affection. Not the attention. The weight behind it. The way Satoru’s presence sharpens when he’s around you.

“He already carries enough,” you say “Just.. being who he is.”

You vaguely hear Nanami say your name, but it barely registers.

“I don’t want to be another thing he needs to get his hands dirty for.”

Nanami studies you for a second longer.

“If you can’t—or don’t want to—talk about it with him,” he says evenly, “at least trust me. Don’t fight this alone.”

You hesitate.

It’s brief. Barely noticeable. But it’s there.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

Nanami inclines his head once, accepting it without comment.

When you finally turn and walk back toward the building, your gaze drops to the ring on your finger.

Proof.

And the terrifying reminder of what Satoru Gojo is capable of when something matters to him.

Enjoyed the chapter? You can read more on AO3 ♡

You can expect a healthy balance of plot and smut (or at least that's what I tried) lol

Let me know what you think!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/79695966/chapters/209126876

[tays-writing]

You are testing my restraint

Zayne x Fem Reader

Between surgeries, Dr. Zayne tries his hardest to stay professional. You, however, are ovulating, extremely horny and determined to break your boyfriend's iron restraint.

CW: SMUT. dirty talk, praise, begging, breeding kink, creampie, size difference, chocking, office sex, porn with feelings, established relationship.

The sterile scent of antiseptic still clung to the air in Zayne’s private office. He sat in his leather chair, white coat draped neatly over the backrest, sleeves of his black shirt rolled up to his forearms. 

He had exactly forty-three minutes between surgeries. Forty-three minutes he had planned to use reviewing patient charts.

Instead, you were perched on the edge of his desk, legs crossed, skirt riding dangerously high up your thighs.

“Zaynie” you purred, swinging one leg playfully. “You’ve been ignoring me. A girl might start to think her boyfriend doesn’t want her anymore.”

Zayne didn’t look up from the keyboard “Love, please behave. This is not the time or place.”

You leaned forward, deliberately letting your blouse gap open so he could see the lacy edge of your bra. “But I’m aching, Doctor. I’ve been thinking about you since I woke up. I’m ovulating so hard today.. my pussy keeps clenching around nothing. It needs you, and your beautiful thick cock”

Zayne exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sweetheart, you’re being careless. Someone could hear you”

“I can’t promise you I’ll be quiet today, but you can stuff my mouth, you know?” you whispered, sliding off the desk and sauntering around to stand next to him, grabbing the chair to make him face you.

You ran your fingers along the knot of his tie, tugging it gently. “I need you”

His hand caught your wrist with careful strength, green eyes finally lifting to meet yours. There was a storm behind that calm surface. “You’re being like this because you’re ovulating, dear. You have to hold it in. I’m going to be all yours tonight. We can take our time then”

“No” you said stubbornly “I don’t want to” 

You took one of his large, elegant hands and guided it under your blouse, pressing his palm directly against your bare breast. Your nipple hardened instantly against his skin. “I want the perfect Dr. Zayne to fuck me raw on this desk.” 

Zayne’s fingers flexed once before he pulled his hand back with visible effort. “Love.” His voice was firmer now. He glanced toward the locked door, then back at you. “This is inappropiate. Someone could knock.”

“I know, I don't care” you said sweetly, dropping to your knees between his legs. Your palms slid up his thighs, nails dragging lightly over the fabric of his pants. 

His hand caught your wrist as you reached for his zipper. He held it gently, thumb stroking the inside of your wrist in a soothing motion. “You can wait, sweetheart. Be good for me.”

But you were relentless.

“I can be good for you now. Please, Zaynie?” you said, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes that didn’t match the filthy words leaving your mouth. “Don’t you want that? Don’t you want to pump your pretty good girl full of cum between surgeries?”

Zayne’s breath hitched sharply, clearly fighting himself. He stayed silent for a long moment, breathing deeper. 

“You’re so responsible,” you praised, voice dripping with lust as you rubbed your cheek against his bulge again, turning your head to press a kiss to his clothed cock, then daringly slipped your tongue along the thick length through the fabric. “So smart.. fuck, it makes me so wet when you try to stay in control like this. The way you command an entire OR, the way everyone respects you… and here I am, on my knees, begging to be your dirty little cum dump”

“Enough” his voice came out low and a little hoarse, warm but clearly strained. “Don’t talk about yourself like that” but even as he said it, his cock twitched hard, betraying how much your words were affecting him

So you kept going, ignoring him. In any case, you got nastier “No, it’s true. I want you to choke me while you breed me, Zayne. I want that big, perfect hand around my throat while you pump me full of cum. I’m ovulating so bad today… please knock me up. I want to leave here dripping with your seed, feeling it run down my thighs while I wait for you”

“Stop” He said, fingers tightened on the armrests, his restraint hanging by a thread.

You didn’t stop. “Imagine it. Me sitting in the waiting area later, legs crossed, your thick cum slowly leaking out of my used pussy. Everyone thinking I’m a loving girlfriend waiting patiently while I’m actually just your bred little slut.”

Finally, something in him snapped.

Zayne’s hand moved to your hair, gripping firmly but not painfully. “You’re going to regret teasing me like this.”

“I hope I do” you grinned, licking your lips. “I hope you fuck the brat right out of me.”

“You never know when to stop, do you?” He stood up suddenly, lifting you with him and setting you on the desk in one smooth motion. In seconds his mouth was on yours—hungry, demanding, but still controlled. His hand slid up your thigh, finding you bare underneath your skirt.

“You really came prepared to torment me.”

“Always” you moaned into his mouth. 

He kissed down your neck, sucking a mark just below your ear. “You’re impossible”

“And you love it” You reached down and palmed his cock

Zayne exhaled sharply, then spun you around and bent you over the desk. Your cheek pressed against the cool surface as he flipped your skirt up. The sound of his belt opening made you shiver with anticipation.

“Such a filthy mouth,” he murmured  “Begging to be my cum dump in my office.”

“Yes,” you whined. “I want to be dripping with you when you go back into surgery. I want every step to remind me who owns me.”

He freed his heavy cock and rubbed the thick head against your soaked folds, teasing you right back.

You moaned loudly. He immediately wrapped a hand around your mouth while the other gripped your hip.

“Quiet” he warned “You wanted this. Now behave.”

“Yes—fuck—thank you” you whimpered against his palm 

Then his hand moved to your throat, applying perfect pressure as he pushed in with one deep thrust, stretching you open

“Mmmph—” you swallow a whimper “So big. Fuck, you always fill me so perfectly. I love being your little cockslut.”

Zayne groaned, hips snapping forward. He set a punishing rhythm, enough to make your head spin deliciously.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growled against your ear. 

“Yes—fuck—yes!” you gasped when he let you breathe. “Harder. Choke me while you breed me. I want your baby, Zayne”

His grip tightened slightly, perfectly controlled even as his thrusts grew deeper. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the office. Every thrust pushed you harder against the desk, your breasts pressing into the desk.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he panted “Teasing me when I have patients waiting.”

“Say it Zayne, please. Say I’m a whore” you begged breathlessly

“You’re my filthy little whore.” Zayne softly cursed and pulled out suddenly. He flipped you onto your back, spreading your legs wide. His eyes darkened at the sight of your dripping cunt.

“Look at you,” he murmured, almost reverently. “So beautiful.”

He pushed back in, deeper in this position. The bulge in your lower belly appeared with every thrust. He pressed a hand over it, mesmerized.

“You feel that?” he asked, voice low. “How deep I am? This is where I’m going to fill you.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Yes baby, please”

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy kiss while his hand returned to your throat. The dual sensation—his cock hitting that perfect spot and the controlled pressure on your neck—had you seeing stars.

“Zayne!” You came hard, clenching around him, moaning his name like a prayer.

A second later he buried himself to the hilt and came with a low, guttural groan. Thick, hot spurts flooded your pussy, so much that it started leaking out around his cock.

He didn’t pull out. Instead, he stayed buried deep, grinding slowly as he caught his breath.

“You’re going to keep it inside you” he murmured, his fingers gently pushing his cum back inside you when it leaked out

You looked up at him, nodding, still dazed.

His gaze, usually so sharp and calculated, softened into something fiercely protective as he looked down at your glassy, adoring eyes.

“Behave for the rest of the day” he said, dropping you off the desk and then adjusting your skirt with careful hands. 

Before he fully stepped back, his hands cupped your face, his thumbs gently wiping away a stray tear from your cheek. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm and uneven.

"I love you," he murmured, the words low and heavy with a raw sincerity "I’ll take care of you properly after dinner”

You smiled dreamily before kissing him “Can’t wait, Doctor.”

[calebsfavoriteusedthong]

The Starapple Girlies are Winning!

​Look, I need to get something off my chest, ok. I am deeply, profoundly envious of the starapple girlies. I want to be one of them. I’m sorry, bunny, I really am, but Zayne has a tight hold on my clit me.

Anyway....

​Let’s all just take a collective breath and imagine them, together, fucking your brains out. The possessiveness, the jealousy! 😩💦

​Me and the starapple girlies know an universal truth: Xavier is the most jealous, most possessive man between those two and also between all 5 of them. Now, don’t start shaking your heads in denial yet. Hear me out. I have compiled enough evidence in my brain so just let me cook for a second.

​Let’s just do a quick comparison to prove my point.

Caleb: Picture it. You're about to cum, the tension is unbearable, he leans down and whispers against your lips:"Eyes on ME while you cum for ME."

Hot? Absolutely. Classic dominant energy.

​Xavier: Here you have this innocent looking, sleepy angel of a man. Except he is giving you the most delicious backshots known to men, completely wrecking your insides. And when he knows you are almost there, he doesn't want you looking at him. Oh, no, no. That man leans in, grips your ass a little tighter, and whispers against your ear: ​"Eyes on HIM while you cum for ME."

​...Now THAT hits entirely different, doesn't?. 😏

[stardustsatoru]

Your best friend Choso accidentally sends you an nsfw video pt. 2 | Choso x fem reader, part 1 here!!!

.ೃ࿔*:･

When you woke up today, everything was off.

For starters, morning had passed you by entirely; you'd been sprawled out across your bed in deep REM sleep until a quarter after one, waking abruptly with sleep in your eyes and a knot in your stomach.

Only when the initial morning afternoon haze faded did you remember the events from the previous night, a night spent more on tossing and turning than rest, all thanks to a 60-second video.

Choso's video. His pierced tongue lolling as drool spilled onto his veiny cock, the way he said your name with his hand desperately stroking his length—memories that corrupted your dreams still occupied your waking thoughts, reigniting the feeling in your core that felt so wrong but so inexplicably right.

It was almost an hour before you so much as touched your phone, the screen lighting up to reveal an onslaught of messages and missed calls from "Cho 💜👾."

From what you deduced after stringing together your best friend's frantic texts, Choso was drunk and that video was never supposed to make it out of his camera roll, least of all into your inbox. But that didn't answer the myriad of questions still swirling around in your head. So you poured your mind into a text before deleting it all and settling for "come over" instead.

And he did just that—showing up 10 minutes later despite living 15 minutes away on a good day, tired brown eyes wide as he regarded you like some kind of wild animal, clearly unsure of what to expect and afraid to get too close.

Seeing him standing before you felt disorienting. The distance felt small no matter how far you stood, his voice sounded different—heavier now that you'd heard him say your name so intimately, his gaze more intense and his lips magnetizing in a way you never even considered before. You wanted him.

He entered without asking, because that's what you do when you've known someone for years and they're your best friend in the world, before immediately launching into a frenzied explanation for his drunken mistake.

But you couldn't focus on his words, only his lips. You traitorous eyes zeroed in on the glimpse of his silver piercing each time he spoke, and you shivered, a reaction to the mere thought of how the cool metal would feel against your sensitive cl—

It was your name, spoken with palpable concern, that snapped you out of the momentary trance; only it sounded different than it ever had before on his tongue and sent a wave of complicated arousal coursing through you.

"I didn't mean to send it to you." He whispered, avoiding looking into your eyes like it might very well kill him.

"But you meant to take it. Do you always record?"

"Y-yeah," he confessed, like it cost him something to admit. "I guess I have a collection."

The idea of a library of videos like the one that made it to your messages planted a lewd idea in your head, one you decided to follow through with before you could talk yourself out of it.

"Hm." You hummed thoughtfully, relishing the way Choso swallowed nervously the longer your thoughtful silence stretched. "Okay, get your phone out."

He obeyed without question, nervous hands fumbling his phone before extending it towards you without a hint of hesitation. You took the device gingerly from his hand, using his passcode—your birthday, of course—to unlock it and open up the camera. After pressing record you handed it back to him, angling it down before sinking onto your knees in front of him. "Hold it like this."

"W-what are you—"

"Making a video," you answered steadily, as though freeing your best friend's hard length from his pants on camera was an everyday occurrence. "For your collection."

His cock rested heavy in your hands, so much prettier in person that you couldn't help but lick your lips, and the sight alone made him twitch. Without breaking eye contact your tongue swiped a wet stripe over his tip, a teasingly fleeting touch, and your thighs clenched at the sound he made in response.

"Fuck," he whined, phone visibly shaking in his trembling hands. "P-please."

You blinked up at him, tugging your tank top down just enough so that the top of your tits spilled out, painting him an irresistible picture. "Please what, Cho?" You purred.

"Please," he pleaded, any shame he might've felt for begging his pretty best friend long gone as he gazed down at you through lidded eyes. "Do that again pl—"

His words warped into moans as your mouth worked up and down his shaft, drool slipping down to the base as you traced each thrumming vein with your tongue.

It wasn't long before you hollowed out your cheeks and sealed your spit-slick lips around him, bobbing your head up and down while your gaze flicked between him and the camera he struggled to hold onto.

You pulled away from him with a pop! and his eyes fixated on the trail of saliva that covered the distance between your tongue and his tip before your head bobbed back down, taking him to the base until his tip reached the back of your throat.

"Oh my god," he groaned, brown hair messy as he leaned forward to get a better view, phone and any hopes of recording long forgotten.

You were a gagging, drooling mess before you pulled away to look up at your best friend with doe-like innocence despite the vulgar display you put on for him moments prior.

"Tell me where you wanna cum, Cho."

His eyes were dark with lust, his cock leaking as he answered, his response catching you off guard in the best way. "Inside of you."

It wasn't long before you were in your bed, climbing on top of Choso to straddle him as he sat with his head against your headboard. Large hands eagerly made their way under your shirt, groping and grabbing at your tits, teasing your sensitive nipples and tracing up and down your waist before his lips captured yours.

You leaned into the kiss, grinding slowly against his painfully hard cock and whimpering at the feeling of the thin lace of your underwear dragging against your clit while his tip prodded at your entrance.

"I need to be inside of you," he breathed, forehead resting against yours. "You have no idea."

Only you did have an idea, because as he lifted your hips and lined himself up with your entrance, you felt it too, and just as much.

The second you sank down on him, walls stretching but still impossibly tight around his length, he knew he was a goner. A broken sound left his mouth, more a whimper than anything, one that he didn't think himself capable of making.

Not that you were faring any better; once you sank down, taking him to the base, your head fell back and a ragged moan left your lips, already breathless just from the sheer size of him.

Gaining stability, you rested your hands on his muscular chest, feeling his heart thump erratically against your palm. Your hips rolled in small circles, riding him at a teasingly slow pace and Choso whined in response to your cadence, so desperate for more friction that his hips began to piston in and out of your wet cunt.

The new, unexpectedly dominate stimulation had you grinding on him harder and faster, hips circling and rocking back and forth while your nails pressed red marks into the pale skin of his chest and abs.

"Choso mmm-fuck!" You mewled, head falling back and losing all control as the pleasure took over. You thought it couldn't get better; the angle, the intense stretch of his huge cock filling you up.

Until Choso sat up and pushed your back flush against the mattress, lifting you by the hips to drive each stroke impossibly deeper until his bulging tip was visible in your stomach with each thrust.

Something about the sight of you, lips caught between your teeth as you bit down hard, eyes crossing and rolling, made him snap; his fingers began to indent the soft flesh of your ass and your thighs hard enough to bruise, while he fucked you with more fervor, whispering profanities and praises all the while.

"You—fuck have no idea," he started through gritted teeth. "How long I've wanted to fuck you like this."

His voice came out strained, as if the action of forming words was almost too much when paired with the mind blowing pleasure of fucking you.

His words sent a fresh pulse of arousal coursing through you, and your walls clenched around him in time for a line of saliva to roll off of his pierced tongue and onto your clit.

Choso wasted no time before his thumb was circling, spreading a mixture of slick and saliva around your sensitive spot and making you see stars.

"Mm-gonna cum Cho I'm so close," you whined, voice shaky.

"Yeah, yeah m-me too baby." Choso's hands tightened on your legs, and the contrast between the pain of his grip and the sweet praises spilling from his lips was ultimately your undoing. His name left your lips while you came around his cock, feeling him twitch inside of you not long after as his orgasm followed suit.

Both your eyes and his fixated on the spot where his length disappeared inside of you, at the white sticky seed dripping out onto the bed below you.

"I'm on the pill," you said without thinking, noticing where his eyes had landed.

"I know," he answered casually, and you wondered what else he paid attention to that you never considered before.

"If I'm honest," he began after a stretch of silence, eyes finding yours shyly. "I don't really think I actually recorded any of that."

You giggled, remembering the phone and the recording and the reason you were in this position with your best friend in the first place.

"That's okay, I guess we'll just have to do it again."

.ೃ࿔*:･

a/n: idk why this took me so long but here's pt 2 angels hope you love

Tags:

@hannahzg8 @ethelwex @acroso @22sublime @imrandomstuffsblog @m-0ona @brunettebombshell72 @abadbitchblogs @azizxxxah @whenwillyouwearwigs122 @infestedwmites @annrrii @wingedtreeflower @iahjamiexi @shzz88 @alondralamascool77 @lumiq-q @umbra-regina @nightwingsbabe-blog @ambergf @jazzyola @sweetieelilii @tul1ps1 @twilightsparkle55 @rae-ndr0p @sukunasonahole @puchki @heavensaves @mileenakahnnn @taesbigleftvalz @tays-writing @quellixa @bybypie @judithacor @miakanzaki @preciousodette @martinlutherkings @littlelightbearer @chosokamoseater @idiots0up @b-is-obsessed @storiesbyparadise @s1ll1e-s0da @pearlpp0 @dollycxre @pendeja4miguel @hauntedwinnerfest @arabellasolstice @jayyyayaysblog @thatone16216 @thaddeusthebee

[qintten]

[cinnamon-and-vanilla]

Hey if anyone has recommendations for good multi-chapter Love and Deepspace fanfics on A03, I'd love to hear them! I'm looking for a story I can get fixated on reading for a few days now that my finals are done lol ❤️

[the-bitch-mob]

fuck it. be creative even if you never really *make* anything. write out plot synopses of stories and then move on. design OCs you'll never use. make mood boards and concept art and don't do anything with them. life's too short to forget everything that inspired you and creation doesn't have to be "complete" to be worth the time you put into it.

[scorpyuu]

[ 🍎 🌟 ] These two…..

[hunterrami]

Bunny's favorite pillow

[mitsumezart]

applestar comm :)