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WOOYOUNG FIC RECS

WARNINGS: recs may contain nsfw, 18+ content, mdni!

Long fics

• Unscripted (duhh) @minkieater ( 18+ mdni, ongoing series, such a good binge, someone cooked really damn hard)

• The Man who can’t be moved by @minkieater (18+ mdni, ex!husband to reconciliation arc, 3 parts. will change your life, no cap)

• Faking it by @belongjoong (18+ mdni, fake dating, ohh my god?? amazing piece i’ve reread nearly thrice)

• Sports car by @wooyoungiewritings (18+ mdni, the angst is angsting so hard, love me a good angst yes pls)

• A spoonful of trouble by @wooyoungiewritings (18+ mdni, fake dating, jealous woo we love it, i love him. i loveddd reading it)

• Speed dial by @ateezlibrary (18+ mdni, no words needed?? omg omg omg just absolute perfection. exactly how i like my men).

• Heartbreak Anniversary by @w00yngie (18+ mdni, angst. love this so much + makeup sex? i’m sold)

• Sour cherry love by @hwaelysian (18+ mdni, mentions of sh and abuse. the writing is just amazing. i love love love the storyline and the way it was carried. wooyo is perfect.)

• Through his lens by @mingi-buffering-24-7 (godd i love the slowburn, the push and pull hello?? this was written so beautifully)

• Passed around by @geoyahalgeoya (18+ mdni, drug use, woosanmin. gasp gasp gasp, soo good)

Smaller fics

• Freak like me by @ashlinxloves (18+ mdni, need him now!)

• Thinking about it by @httpslan4 (mafia!wooyoung, will eat every mafia fic up so hardd)

• Table manners by @belongjoong (😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 #needthat)

• Cherry flavoured by @joongnoodle (yes. yes. yes. such a cute challenge at first 😛 loved it)

• Wooyoung headcannon by @kisssan (18+ mdni, every fic eats so hard omg)

• Wooyoung smau by @teaxtease (ughh i miss him. makes me wanna yearn)

• A touch that rots by @maho6any (hope the writer’s pillow is cold. so so good)

• Birthday breeding by @ateezscupid (😵‍💫 absolutely banging. loved itt

• Change of heart by @hotteoki my baby (😍 amazingg read! love the art and the author)

• Wanna be yours by @milfgyuu (jealousy jealousy yess yess. favv trope, love the drama)

• Good lil boy by @sorryimananti-romantic (18+ mdni, royal au pleaseeee i need that so bad. wooyo in this was delish, so beautifully written)

• Sagittarius by @lcvejjoong (this was so so so so cutee omg. love all the works tbh. amazing re-read every damn time)

Note: all of these fics I’ve read but i’ll always be editing and adding more here! love binging and giving out recs to others ❤️

this took me nearly 2 months to make lmaooo i’ll be adding more members soon!

#wooyoung x reader

leechqnsgirl

☆⋆⭒˚.⋆ I still get jealous

notes: based off of this ask

-- jo hates whenever jealousy consumes him, but you love it.

18+ | jo x fem!reader | wc: 1.2k | masterlist | smut + comfort

warnings: language, kissing, piv, vvvv small spanking, kinda mean!jo, overstim, squirting, mentions of euijoo, no protectionnn but he doesn't cum inside

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

#asakura jo x reader #‼️

rabbitskinz

thinking about riding maki’s muscular thigh..

a/n - as soon as he sent this photo i haaad to write something.. its pretty short but i hope u all enjoy! will be posting some more within the next few days! (hopefully..)

you were standing in the kitchen making dinner waiting on maki to get home. you glanced up as soon as you heard the door click, your jaw nearly hitting the floor when you caught sight of him.

his toned arms glistened, his thin black tank clung to his abs perfectly. his shorts ended mid thigh, exposing his muscular thighs. sweat dripped from his defined jaw. your body immediately felt hot, warmth pooling in your lower abdomen. you squeezed your thighs together, craving relief.

#maki x reader #hirota riki x reader #‼️

torupng

❝ HOW TO BA(N)G A NERD IN 10 DAYS ❞ .ᐟ ‘ 呪術廻戦 .

゛★ nerd ! satoru gojo is your best friend’s older brother.

# NERDJO AU ⋆ 14k words ⋆ 3 years younger!reader ⋆ not your typical nerdjo ⋆ toru has nipple piercings ⋆ smut, p in v the whole shtick ⋆ reader is a HORNDOG ⋆ side character: lia, gojo’s sister & reader’s best friend ⋆ uni setting ⋆ skip to day 9 if ur just here for the smut you perv ⋆ 18+ MDNI NSFW . art by zeilorene0

HOW TO BA(N)G A NERD IN 10 DAYS

(or: your completely unhinged, totally foolproof plan to make Satoru Gojo fall in love with you and hopefully rail you into next semester)

DAY ONE

You’re not proud of yourself.

Okay, that’s a filthy lie. You’re extremely proud of yourself. The kind of proud that has you smirking at your own reflection in the spoon like a gremlin who just discovered the cheat code to the hottest man alive.

Because you’ve just cooked up the single greatest idea of your horny little life.

It started with a text from Lia—your roommate, your ride-or-die (who you’ve known for less than a year), and the biological sister of the man who has been living rent-free in your ovaries for three straight months.

Lia: do you want to come over this weekend? my brother’s gonna be home and he’s making his famous carbonara. i swear to god it’ll change your life

Your thumbs betrayed you instantly.

You: i’ll be there with bells on

Lia: please don’t actually wear bells i live in an apartment

You: no promises

You sat there, chopsticks frozen halfway to your mouth, and the realization hit you like a freight train made of pure, throbbing lust.

Satoru Gojo.

Fourth-year genetics god. Certified nerd. Unholy levels of hot.

The man who wears wire-rimmed glasses while buried in textbooks but also has fucking nipple piercings. You know this because you’d accidentally walked in on him shirtless that one time and your brain blue-screened so hard you saw the pearly gates. Silver bars through both pink nipples, perfect lean muscle, that stupidly narrow waist, and a happy trail that made your mouth water like a Pavlovian whore.

He’d just looked at you with those glowing blue eyes, raised one eyebrow, and said, “Wrong room, kid.”

Kid.

He called you kid while you were having a religious experience over his pierced tits. Rude. And devastatingly… attractive.

You’d immediately fled, texted Lia YOUR BROTHER IS JACKED AND HAS HIS NIPPLES PIERCED WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?!?!?!? and she’d replied lol yeah he works out. it’s the autism.

To which you’d replied ??? and she’d elaborated with: he’s not actually autistic he’s just psychotic about his routines. anyway don’t be weird about it

Too late. You were very weird about it. You’d spent the rest of the night with your hand between your thighs imagining what those pierced nipples would feel like against your tongue.

So here you are at 2 AM, eating sad instant ramen, and you’ve finally accepted the truth: Satoru Gojo is not a normal man. He’s a nerd. And normal flirting bounces right off his beautiful, dense skull.

You need a plan. A filthy, calculated, 10-day siege on that man’s self-control.

You snatch your phone and start hammering into your notes app like a woman possessed (a very horny possession.)

HOW TO BA(n)G A NERD IN 10 DAYS

Step 1: Research

• Find out every single one of his nerdy interests

• Learn what makes his brain (and hopefully his dick) tick

• Memorize his schedule so i can “accidentally” keep appearing in his line of sight

Step 2: Infiltrate

• Become a permanent fixture at Lia’s apartment

• Force him to notice me in increasingly slutty outfits

• Make it impossible for him to ignore the horny roommate-shaped problem in his house

Step 3: Engage

• Talk to him about genetics like i give a fuck (i don’t, i just want to watch his mouth move)

• Drop strategic nerdy compliments that slowly transition into “I want you to bend me over your genetics textbook”

• Deploy feminine wiles at maximum power (respectfully. kinda?)

Step 4: Execute

• Confess (horribly so. who the fuck’s good at confessions??)

• Kiss him

• Let him destroy you in every position known to man (and maybe a few new ones he can genetically engineer)

• ???

• Profit (multiple orgasms)

You lean back, cackling quietly to yourself in the dark kitchen like a madwoman. This was an inexplicably terrible plan.

Ten days. That’s all you need. Ten days to turn Satoru Gojo from “Lia’s hot jacked nerd brother with nipple piercings” to “the man who folds you in half and calls you a good girl while those pierced nipples drag across your skin.”

You swipe out of notes and into messages, fingers already typing out a message to Lia.

You: what time should i come over on saturday

Lia: are you okay ?? since when do you need a timeframe

You: i've never been better. i need one today. now. what time

Lia: idk like 6?? he usually starts cooking around then

You: i'll be there at 5

Lia: why?

You: no reason

Lia: you're going to be weird around my brother again aren't you

You: i'm never weird around your brother

Lia: you literally stood in our kitchen staring at him for 10 minutes last week while he was making a sandwich

You: i was admiring his sandwich making technique

Lia: i don’t think you blinked once

You: that's just how i show respect

Lia: you're going to marry my brother aren't you

You: i'm going to do a lot more than marry him

Lia: ew shut up, i'm telling mom.

You: don't you dare

Lia: i’m afraid she’d love you actually

You: i know. it’s perfect for when she’s watching us walk down the aisle

Lia: you’re insane. like actually crazy

You throw your phone on the bed and grin at the ceiling.

Saturday can't come soon enough.

DAY TWO

You’re not stalking him.

You’re conducting reconnaissance. Big difference. Stalking is creepy. Reconnaissance is strategic, horny, and completely justified when the target has arms like that.

So when you “casually” plant yourself at the library on Thursday afternoon—perfectly positioned with a direct line of sight to the returns desk—it’s not because you memorized his genetics lab schedule (2-4 PM) and know he always swings by here afterward. No, you’re simply a dedicated scholar who loves knowledge.

And penguins. Apparently.

You’ve been pretending to read an article on penguin mating habits for thirty minutes when he finally shows up. Gray henley stretched across that stupidly broad chest, white hair looking like it was styled by sex itself, wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose while he carries a textbook that probably weighs more than you do.

Your cunt clenches so hard you nearly drop your phone.

Get it together, you thirsty gremlin.

He returns his books, flashes that devastating smile at the elderly librarian (who actually blushes—same, grandma), and starts to leave. Then he pauses like he’s trying to look for somewhere to sit.

His eyes find you. Mission successful.

And he walks straight over.

“You’re Lia’s friend, right?” His voice is low and smooth, like warm sin sliding down your spine. You want it whispering filthy things against your neck while he’s—jesus, stop.

“Yep… that’s me,” you manage.

“Lia talks about you constantly.” He nods at the empty chair across from you. “Mind if I sit? Got a break before my next class. Need to review some stuff.”

Your brain short-circuits. Your ovaries throw a full-on rave. The logical part of you that still exists is screaming say yes, you idiot.

“Sure,” you squeak. That was not cool. That was the opposite of cool. “Go ahead.”

He doesn’t seem to notice (thank fuck) as he drops into the seat and you catch a hit of his cologne—clean, masculine, expensive. It makes you want to crawl across the table and bury your face in his neck.

“You’re reading about penguins?” he asks, glancing at your book. The one you forgot you even had opened. Penguins pale terribly in comparison to the specimen who just sat across you.

“Uh, yeah. Just… curious.” You’re not even pretending to be normal anymore.

He nods seriously, completely unaware he’s two seconds away from being mentally undressed. Two seconds passed. “Emperor penguins are fascinating. The males can hold their breath for up to twenty minutes underwater. Females lay one egg, then the males incubate it for two months while the females hunt. They huddle together for warmth, rotating positions so no one freezes. It’s actually pretty efficient.”

You’re nodding like you give a damn about penguins when all you can think about is how those long fingers would feel stretching you open, how that deep voice would sound groaning your name while he fucks you slow and deep.

“That’s really sweet,” you say.

He shrugs. “It’s evolutionary. Not about being sweet—it’s mostly just survival.”

“Can’t it be both?”

He looks at you then, like he’s studying you, and something flickers behind those ridiculous blue eyes. You wonder if he can tell you’re soaking through your panties just from listening to him talk about bird foreplay. Ugh, you’re pathetically horny.

The conversation shifts easily after that. You tell him your major is undeclared (true) but you’re leaning toward psychology (also true, specifically the psychology of why you want this man to ruin you). He talks about genetics like it’s the hottest thing on earth, and honestly? The passion in his voice is doing more for you than most guys’ entire bodies.

By the time he checks the clock and sighs, you’ve collected vital intelligence:

Favorite color is a very specific sky blue (you’re already planning outfits).

Morning person (disgusting, but you’d wake up at 5 AM if it meant getting him to screw you eventually).

Thinks The Expanse is the best show ever (you’re downloading it tonight).

Has a rigid morning routine and gets genuinely cranky if it’s disrupted (noted—do not fuck with his routine until he’s addicted to waking up next to you).

Looks even better up close. Unfairly so. The kind of hot that makes you want to climb him in public.

“I should head out,” he says, gathering his stuff. “But it was nice talking to you. You’re not nearly as annoying as Lia described.”

He’s grinning. Teasing. That smile should be illegal.

“I’m telling her you said that,” you shoot back.

“Please don’t. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Too late. Phone’s already out.”

“Damn.” He laughs, low and warm, and your brain immediately files it under sounds to masturbate to later.

He stands up and you let yourself stare as he walks away—those long legs, that perfect ass, the way his shoulders fill out the henley. You want to sink your teeth into his back while he fucks you from behind. You want to watch those pierced nipples tighten when you ride him. You want him to lose that calm, nerdy composure and absolutely wreck you.

You’re in deep.

So fucking deep it’s embarrassing.

DAY THREE

You’re lying on Lia’s floor in her childhood bedroom, staring at the ceiling and trying (and failing) not to think about the fact that Satoru Gojo is sleeping just down the hall.

It’s Friday night. You’d texted Lia I’m bored, come over and she’d hit you with I’m at my parents’ house? so you’d immediately replied cool I’ll come there like a completely normal, non-desperate person. Now here you are, in the Gojo family home, wearing tiny sleep shorts and a thin tank top that’s doing absolutely nothing to hide how your nipples are already perked up just from knowing he’s nearby.

Lia is sprawled on her bed, scrolling on her phone. “So,” she says without looking up, “you gonna tell me what the hell is going on with you?”

“Nothing’s going on.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been extra unhinged all week.”

“I’m always unhinged.”

“Weirder than usual. You got all slutted up to go to the library yesterday. You hate the library.”

“I was expanding my horizons.”

“You were stalking my brother.”

You sit up so fast you almost concuss yourself on her bed frame. “I was not stalking him.”

“Uh-huh.” She gives you a flat look. “So you just happened to be at the exact table with the perfect view of the returns desk where he always goes?”

“It’s a public library. Lots of people study there.”

“And you just happened to be wearing lip gloss and a low-cut top?”

You deflate. “Fine. Maybe I was strategically positioning myself. It’s not stalking, it’s… tactical thirst.”

“Tactical thirst,” Lia repeats, deadpan. “Jesus Christ.”

You shrug. “I want him to notice me, okay?”

Lia puts her phone down. “Why? Because you want to bang him?”

“I don’t just want to bang him,” you protest.

“Oh? So you want to date him? Marry him? Have his kids?”

Your brain immediately supplies a vivid image of Satoru behind you, big hands gripping your hips, those long fingers digging in while he fucks you deep and growls about breeding you. You squeeze your thighs together.

“…Maybe eventually,” you mutter.

Lia starts laughing so hard she nearly rolls off the bed. “Oh my god. You’re actually down bad. You want to date my brother.”

“Is that so weird?”

“Yes! He’s the biggest nerd on planet Earth. He has a beaker collection. He watches hour-long documentaries for fun. He once spent an entire dinner arguing with Dad about the ethics of gene editing.”

“That sounds hot, actually.”

“You have issues.”

“I have a crush. Big difference.”

Lia sits up, suddenly serious. “Look, I love him, but he’s… a lot. He hyperfixates. He forgets to eat when he’s in research mode. He’s obsessive about his routines. He’s not exactly easy boyfriend material.”

“Maybe not for most people.” You grin. “But I like the weird. I like how passionate he gets when he talks. I like that he’s smart as hell. And I really like that he’s jacked.”

“Okay, that part is fair,” Lia admits. “He’s got an insane body. I hate saying it because he’s my brother, but yeah… he works out like a maniac.”

“I know. I’ve seen it.”

Lia’s eyes widen. “Have you seen him shirtless?”

Your face burns. “Lia—”

“That’s a yes. When?!”

“It was an accident! I opened the wrong door in the dorms when i was trying to get to yours and he was changing. Shirt off. Just… standing there.”

“And?”

You bite your lip. “I saw them… the piercings.”

Lia loses it again, cackling like a hyena. “You saw his nip piercings and now you’re feral. That explains everything. No wonder you’re trying to move in.”

“I’m not obsessed—” you start, but she cuts you off.

“Name three reasons you want him that aren’t the piercings.”

You pause. “He’s smart. He’s really tall. And he has huge hands. Like… long fingers. You know what those could do—”

“OKAY STOP!” Lia slaps her hands over her ears. “I get it. You want to bang my brother. Congratulations, you’re the first girl who’s ever shown genuine interest after realizing how weird he is.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Seriously. A couple girls have tried, but they bail when they realize he’d rather talk DNA than make out.”

“Their loss,” you say, already imagining pushing him against a wall and shutting him up with your mouth on his.

Lia sighs. “If you’re really doing this, you’re gonna need my help. He’s dense as hell when it comes to flirting. You’re going to have to be obvious. Like, ‘I like you please marry me ’ obvious.”

“I can do obvious.”

“You’re going to be so weird about this, aren’t you?”

“Probably.”

She groans but smiles. “Fine. I’m in. Let’s make a plan before you embarrass both of us.”

You launch yourself onto her bed and tackle her in a hug. “You’re the best.”

“I know. Now stop fantasizing about my brother while you’re in my room, you whore.”

Too late. You already are.

Hours pass and you can’t sleep.

Lia passed out an hour ago, snoring softly with her phone still glowing on her chest. But you’re wide awake, mind racing with dirty strategies and the knowledge that Satoru is sleeping just down the hall. Shirtless, probably. Maybe in nothing but those ridiculous novelty boxers he seems to own.

Your throat is dry. Your brain is horny. So you slip out of Lia’s room in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts that could double as underwear because of how little they hide anything, tiptoeing toward the kitchen like a woman on a mission for water… and maybe a glimpse of the nerd who’s been ruining your sleep.

The house is dark except for the soft glow of the fridge light when you round the corner.

And there he is.

Satoru Gojo, standing in front of the open refrigerator in low-slung gray sweatpants and no shirt, the silver bars through his nipples catching the light like a fucking invitation to grope him. His hair is messy from sleep, glasses nowhere in sight, and the way those sweatpants hang on his hips shouldn’t even be allowed.

He’s reaching for something on the top shelf, back muscles flexing, that narrow waist tapering into the most biteable ass you’ve ever seen.

Your brain short-circuits so violently you make a small, embarrassing noise that was supposed to be you clearing your throat.

He turns, blue eyes landing on you instantly.

“Oh. Hey,” he says, voice rough with sleep. It goes straight between your legs. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

You try to play it cool. You really do. But your eyes keep dropping to his pierced nipples, then lower, following the faint happy trail disappearing into those sweatpants. You can see the outline of his dick through the fabric and your mouth actually waters.

“Water,” you croak. “Just… needed water.”

He steps aside, gesturing lazily at the fridge. “Help yourself.”

You move past him, hyper-aware of how close he is. His body heat. That clean, masculine scent. The way his arm brushes yours when you reach for a bottle.

You turn around too fast and suddenly you’re chest-to-chest with him. Well, chest-to-stomach. He’s so fucking tall.

“Sorry—” you start, but the word dies when you look up and realize he’s staring down at you.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he says quietly.

You glance down. The oversized tee has some faded genetics pun on it. You stole it from Lia’s laundry pile earlier without realizing.

“Shit. I didn’t— I can change—”

“Looks better on you,” he murmurs, and the low timbre of his voice makes your nipples tighten against the fabric.

Your brain supplies a very vivid image of him bending you over the kitchen island, yanking your shorts down, and fucking you until you can’t remember your own name. Those big hands gripping your hips. Those pierced nipples dragging against your back while he rails you from behind.

You swallow hard.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

He leans in just a fraction, eyes dark. For one electric second you think he might kiss you.

Then he straightens up, smirking like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Night, Lia’s friend.”

No no no no don’t go… you were having such a good time just staring at him.

“I have a name, you know,” you blurt out and you’re not sure where that came from.

He pauses, turns to face you with that subtle smile on his face—the one that does terrible things to you.

“I know.”

He walks out, sweatpants riding low enough that you get a perfect view of the dimples at the base of his spine.

You stand there clutching your water bottle like a lifeline, thighs pressed together, heart hammering.

Yeah.

This sleepover is definitely a sleepover. And you are so screwed.

DAY FOUR

You wake up stupidly early—barely past 6 AM—because your bladder has no respect for your sleepover plans. The house is dead quiet. Lia is still snoring softly on the bed. You slip out from under the blanket in your shorts and his shirt, hair messy, eyes half-closed, and shuffle down the hall toward the bathroom.

You push the door open without knocking (big mistake) and freeze.

Satoru is already in there.

Fresh out of the shower.

A towel slung dangerously low around his hips, water still dripping down his bare chest. Those silver nipple piercings catch the light like fucking bait. His white hair is wet and pushed back, glasses off, and the steam in the air makes everything feel way too intimate.

Your brain short-circuits so hard you can hear the dial-up tone.

He turns his head, blue eyes meeting yours in the mirror. For a second he looks surprised, then that lazy, amused smirk slides onto his face.

“Morning,” he says, voice still rough with sleep. “Didn’t know I had company this early.”

You’re standing there like an idiot, thighs pressed together, suddenly very aware that your nipples are visible through your thin shirt and your shorts are barely covering anything. Your gaze keeps betraying you—dropping to the defined lines of his abs, the sharp V disappearing under the towel, the way the fabric clings to his hips.

You want to drop to your knees right here on the bathroom tile and see what’s under that towel. You want to tug on those pierced nipples with your teeth while he fucks your throat. You want him to bend you over the sink and make you watch in the mirror while he ruins you.

Instead you squeak out, “Sorry— I didn’t— I’ll just—”

You start backing up but he chuckles, low and warm, and reaches for his toothbrush like this is completely normal.

“You’re fine. I’m almost done.” He glances at you again, eyes flicking down your body for half a second before returning to the mirror. “Sleep well?”

Your face is burning. Your down there is throbbing. “Yeah. Great. Perfect. You?”

“Same.” He starts brushing his teeth, completely unbothered by the fact that he’s mostly naked and you’re two feet away looking like you want to devour him. “You sticking around today?”

“Uh-huh.” You can’t stop staring at the water droplet sliding down his chest, right toward one of those fucking piercings. “Dinner. Carbonara.”

He rinses his mouth, turns around fully, and now you’re getting the full frontal view—broad shoulders, lean muscle, happy trail, and that towel that looks like it’s one deep breath away from falling.

“Good,” he says simply. “See you then.”

He steps past you in the doorway, close enough that his bare arm brushes yours and you catch the clean scent of his body wash. Your knees nearly give out.

He disappears down the hall toward his room, leaving you standing there like a horny statue.

You close the bathroom door behind you, lock it, and immediately lean against it, pressing your thighs together.

Holy fuck.

You’re never going to survive ten days if every morning starts like this.

Later that morning, after you’ve (barely) recovered and Lia has woken up, the two of you are sprawled across her bed with snacks, turning this into full war council mode.

You and Lia spend most of Saturday morning working on what you’re calling “Operation Bag and Bang the Nerd.”

“Well, first we need to figure out what he likes,” Lia says, scrolling through her phone. “He’s got a lot of interests.”

“I already know some of them. Genetics, The Expanse, the gym…”

“Okay, but you need specifics. What kind of genetics? Favorite episode? Gym routine?”

You shrug helplessly.

“Exactly. Research time.” She pulls up a document titled Satoru Intel like the unhinged best friend she is. “I’ve been collecting this for years. It’s a little creepy but extremely useful. I do it for my parents too.”

“You’re a good sister.”

“I’m the best. Okay—population genetics, especially the genetics of blue eyes for his thesis. Favorite He’s a big fan of those self help books, has a bunch. Gym at 6 AM sharp every day.”

“6 AM? Gross.”

“Right? But it means he crashes early. Evenings are prime territory for you.”

“Can I just… come over whenever?”

“Obviously. But you need to make him want you around. He’s not exactly Mr. Social.”

“So I make him want to spend time with me.”

“Bingo.”

“How?”

“Pretend to be interested in his research.”

“I am interested. I want him to explain it while I sit on his lap.”

Lia snorts. “Then ask him about his thesis. Let him nerd out. That’s the fastest way to his heart.”

You grin. “And his dick?”

She smacks your shoulder and you giggle shamelessly, “gross, woman!”

“Also, get physically close. He’s oblivious as hell. Touch his arm. Sit right next to him. Brush against him. Wear something slutty.”

“Revealing clothing?”

“Obviously. He’s dense but he’s not blind. Weaponize the tits.”

“Already planning on it.”

“And be patient,” she warns. “He’s not going to fold overnight.”

“Ten days,” you say, dead serious. “I’m getting him in ten days.”

Lia raises an eyebrow. “Ambitious.”

“I’m an ambitious slut.”

She laughs and holds out her hand. “Ten days. Starting now.”

You shake it. “Oh, I’m on day four already.”

“What?!—“ she blurts out, confused as hell. “You think you can do this in six days?”

“Just trust me, okay. I have my ways.”

Lia shrugs and lets out a chuckle, “alright then. If it doesn’t work you owe me coffee every day for a whole month.”

“That’s not fair!”

“You were so confident a second ago?”

“Fine... you’ll see.”

“One day you’re gonna get that ego checked.”

“Not today.”

You’re already mentally picking out your outfit for dinner—something tight, low-cut, and guaranteed to make those blue eyes linger.

After this morning’s bathroom encounter, you have a feeling he’s at the very least noticed your sexual appeal. You just need to keep pushing.

DAY FIVE

You spend an embarrassing amount of time getting ready.

Four outfit changes, two complete hair redos, and so much makeup reapplication that you’re starting to look like a different person which you start to hate and then remove entirely and settle on mascara and lipgloss. You settle on pants that make your ass look great and a tight black top with a plunging neckline (per Lia’s very helpful suggestion).

Your phone buzzes as you’re leaving the dorm.

Lia: are you coming or what

You: omw

Lia: good bc satoru is already cooking and if you miss his carbonara i will personally end you

You: you’d fight me for missing pasta??

Lia: it’s that good

You: fair

The second you step into the Gojo house the smell of carbonara hits you like heaven. Creamy, garlicky, sinful. Lia lets you in with a wicked little grin.

“He’s in a good mood,” she whispers. “Thesis breakthrough. He’s feeling generous.”

“Perfect timing.”

“Just… don’t be too obvious. He gets weird about it.”

“I’ll be subtle.”

“You’ve never been subtle in your life.”

“I’ll be my version of subtle.”

“That’s what terrifies me.”

You walk into the kitchen and there he is—Satoru Gojo in a “Kiss the Cook” apron, looking unfairly domestic and hot as hell. The apron strings are tied around that stupidly narrow waist, and you immediately picture untying them with your teeth.

“Hey, Lia’s friend,” he says.

“Hey, Lia’s brother,” you fire back.

He glances up with a smirk. “Satoru. You can call me Satoru.”

“You know my name and you still call me Lia’s friend.”

“Good point.” He stirs the pasta, muscles flexing under the apron. “Staying for dinner?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good. I made enough for a small army. Lia always invites strays.”

“I do not,” Lia protests.

“You literally just did.”

The carbonara is obscene—rich, silky, perfectly cheesy. You moan around your first bite and don’t even care how it sounds. Satoru’s eyes flick to your mouth for a second.

“Holy shit,” you say. “This is better than sex.”

He raises an eyebrow, amused. “High praise.”

You spend the rest of dinner complimenting him shamelessly and then steering the conversation to his thesis. The second you ask about the genetics of blue eyes, his whole face lights up. He launches into a passionate ramble about OCA2, HERC2, melanin production, and ancient mutations while his hands gesture wildly.

You don’t understand half of it, but you’re riveted anyway—mostly because watching him get excited makes you want to climb him like a tree and ride him while he keeps talking nerd shit in your ear.

“Most people zone out when I talk about this,” he admits at the end, looking almost shy.

“Nope. I could listen to you talk about genetics all night.”

He blinks, then gives you a real, soft smile. “You’re weird.”

“Good weird, I hope.”

“Very good weird.”

Lia watches the whole exchange like a proud mother.

After dinner she claps her hands. “Movie time. The Expanse. Season one, episode one. No skipping.”

Satoru perks up immediately. “You haven’t seen it?” he asks you.

“Nope.”

“We’re fixing that right now.”

The carbonara plates are cleared and dropped into the sink, compliments thoroughly given, and the three of you migrate to the living room. Satoru takes his usual spot on the big sectional couch while Lia claims the armchair so you two can sit together. You deliberately sit right next to him instead of leaving a polite gap—close enough that your thigh almost brushes his.

He doesn’t comment on it. Just queues up The Expanse and starts explaining the premise, talking with his hands the way he always does when he’s excited. You watch him more than the screen.

Lia lasts about twenty minutes before she fakes the world’s most obvious yawn.

“God, I’m wiped. All that science talk drained me. You two keep going—I’m tapping out early.” She shoots you a quick little smirk behind Satoru’s back and vanishes down the hallway before either of you can protest.

Now it’s just the two of you.

The episode plays on, but you’re barely paying attention to the plot. You’re too busy watching Satoru’s face light up every time something interesting happens on screen. He keeps pausing to explain details—Belter culture, the physics of space travel, the political tensions—and you find yourself actually leaning in, not just because you want his hands on you, but because the way he gets lost in it is weirdly endearing. Cute, even. This giant, jacked nerd with nip piercings rambling about fictional solar system politics like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

It’s hot. And sort of adorable.

You shift closer under the pretense of getting comfortable, letting your shoulder press against his. He doesn’t move away. If anything, he relaxes a little, arm stretching along the back of the couch behind you.

“So the Belters,” you say, genuinely curious, “they’re basically space miners who got screwed by Earth and Mars, right? That whole ‘we were born in space, you were born with gravity’ thing?”

His eyes flick to you, surprised you actually seem into this. “Yeah. Exactly. It’s this whole class and resource struggle layered on top of incredible sci-fi worldbuilding. Most shows would make it black and white, but this one actually shows how everyone’s kind of right and kind of wrong at the same time.”

You nod, letting your knee rest against his thigh now—body slightly tilted towards his on the couch. “That’s cool. I like when stories don’t treat the audience like idiots.”

He turns his head to look at you properly. Those ridiculous blue eyes are softer in the dim TV light. “Most people just nod and wait for me to shut up when I start explaining stuff like this.”

“I’d like to think I’m not most people.” You tilt your head, letting your shoulder settle more firmly against his chest—he stiffens for a second before relaxing, letting out a soft breath he thought you wouldn’t notice. “Keep going. What happens after that scene?”

He launches back into it, voice dropping into that low, enthusiastic register that does terrible things to your insides. You listen, asking real questions, but your mind keeps wandering to filthier places—imagining that mouth against your neck while he explains genetics, those long fingers sliding under your top, pinning you down while he rambles about melanin between thrusts.

At one point he laughs at something on screen and the sound vibrates through his chest into your shoulder. You have to press your thighs together.

“You’re actually paying attention,” he says after a while, sounding almost impressed. There’s a flirty little edge to his voice now, playful. It’s so hot and so distracting. “Most girls pretend to be interested for about five minutes before they start checking their phones.”

“I am interested,” you say honestly. “It’s well-written. And I like how passionate you get about it. It’s… cute.”

The second the word leaves your mouth his eyebrows shoot up. “Cute?”

“Shut up. You heard me.” You nudge his side with your elbow, but you don’t pull away. If anything you sink in closer, letting your head tilt toward his shoulder. “Don’t let it go to your head, nerd.”

He chuckles, low and warm. “I’ll think about it.” His arm shifts slightly behind you—not quite around you, but close enough that his fingers could brush your arm if he wanted. “You’re weird, you know that?”

You look up at him through your lashes. “You’ve mentioned, but weird how?”

“You listen. Ask surprisingly good questions. Wear tops like that.” His gaze drops to your cleavage for half a second before flicking back to your face, a little guilty, a little heated. SCORE!! He noticed your tits this is going beautifully. “And you smell really good. It’s distracting.”

Your pulse spikes. Heat pools low in your stomach. You want to straddle him right here on the couch and see how fast that nerdy composure cracks. Instead you smirk.

“Good. I like distracting you.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just looks at you for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind those eyes. Then he turns back to the TV, but his arm settles more deliberately along the back of the couch, fingers lightly grazing your shoulder.

The episode keeps playing. You keep leaning into him. And for the first time, it feels like he’s actually seeing you—not just as Lia’s friend, but as something a lot more interesting.

You’re still going to fuck his brains out the second you get the chance.

But damn if the nerdy rambling isn’t growing on you too.

DAY SIX

You wake up at 5:30 in the morning like a masochist.

Your phone alarm is blaring. Your body is begging for mercy. But you drag yourself out of bed anyway because the mission demands it.

Satoru Gojo works out at 6 AM sharp every single day. And today, you’re going to “coincidentally” be there too.

You spend way too long picking an outfit: black leggings that hug your ass, a matching padded sports bra that gives excellent lift and cleavage, and a loose tank top that keeps slipping off one shoulder. Your ponytail is artfully messy. You look like the kind of girl who lives at the gym.

In reality, the last time you ran was to catch the bus in high-school.

You walk into the gym at 5:55 AM and immediately spot him.

Shirtless.

On the bench press.

Holy fuck. You might be here every day from now on if it means getting front row seats to him in all of his glory.

Sweat is already glistening across his broad chest and down those ridiculous abs. His arms flex with every rep, veins popping out, and those silver nipple piercings catch the harsh lights like they’re kindly asking you to stare. You nearly walk straight into a weight rack.

He racks the bar and sits up, towel around his neck, catching sight of you.

“You?” He blinks, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

You try to sound casual. “Working out. New fitness journey and all that.”

“Since when?” He wipes sweat from his forehead, muscles shifting in a way that should be illegal before breakfast.

“Uh… since recently. I’m turning over a new leaf. Becoming a morning person.”

He raises an eyebrow, amused by your new goal. “You told me two days ago you hate mornings.”

“I’m evolving,” you deadpan. “It’s a process but hey, I managed to get out of bed and come here. Good progress.”

He nods, studying you for a second, eyes drifting down your body—leggings, sports bra, the way your tank top clings to your skin—before flicking back to your face. “Alright. Treadmills are over there if you’re running. Good view of the TVs.”

“Thanks.”

You climb onto a treadmill and start at a light jog, trying not to look like a complete and utter fraud. Your heart is already racing and it has nothing to do with the speed—okay it has some to do with the speed.

A couple minutes later he appears beside your machine, still beautifully shirtless, towel slung over one shoulder.

“Your form’s off,” he says without preamble.

“My what?”

“You’re heel-striking. It’s gonna wreck your knees long-term.” He steps onto the side rail of the treadmill. “Can I fix it?”

“Please.” You slow the treadmill to a stop and stand there with your heart beating against your chest as he reaches down and taps your ankle, guiding your foot placement. His fingers are warm and firm against your skin through the thin legging material. You clench involuntarily.

“Land on the ball of your foot,” he instructs, voice low. “Like this.”

Then his hands move to your hips, adjusting your posture with gentle pressure. He’s so close you can smell his sweat mixed with that clean cologne, feel the heat radiating off his bare chest. Your brain floods with vivid images: those big hands gripping your hips harder while he fucks you from behind, sweat-slick skin sliding against yours. Maybe those biceps putting you in a chokehold. You have to snap yourself out of it before you forget where you are.

“Lean forward just a little,” he murmurs, right next to your ear. “Not too much. There… yeah. That’s it.”

Fuck, you’re pretty sure you’re soaking through your leggings.

“Better?” he asks, stepping back but not far.

“Much better,” you manage, voice a little breathless. “Thanks, Satoru.”

“No problem.” He gives you that crooked, flirty smirk. “Always happy to help pretty girls with their form.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Pretty girls?”

He shrugs, casual, but there’s a spark in those blue eyes. “What? You look good. The outfit works. Just… don’t push too hard if you’re new to this. I don’t want you sore tomorrow.”

Too late, pretty boy. I’m already sore in all the right places.

“I can handle it,” you say, turning up the speed a notch. “But if I die, you’re carrying me home.”

He laughs—low, warm, genuine—and the sound shoots straight down in between your legs. “Deal. I’ll spot you on the weights after if you want.”

You spend the rest of your (very short) workout stealing glances at him. Watching him load plates onto the bar, muscles bulging, sweat dripping down that perfect V-line into his shorts. You want to lick the sweat off his chest. You want to see how sensitive those nips are. You want him to pin you against the mirror and fuck the “morning person” energy right out of you. Or into you. Whatever, potato potahto.

But underneath all the raging lust, you’re also weirdly into how focused and disciplined he is. The way he tracks his reps, the quiet intensity on his face—it’s hot. And impressive.

When you finally step off the treadmill on shaky legs, he wanders over again, handing you a spare towel.

“Not bad for a new morning person,” he teases.

“You watching? High praise from the 6 AM regular.”

He lingers for a second, eyes flicking over you again. “Making sure you don’t fall over and hurt yourself. You coming back tomorrow?”

“Maybe. If my legs don’t fall off.”

“I’ll be here.” He gives you one last slow smile. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“Hard to when I’m basically a resident at Lia’s.”

You watch him chuckle and walk back to the weights, that glorious back and shoulders on full display, and feel a rush of triumph mixed with pure, aching want.

Day six is a huge success. You’re sweaty, exhausted, and hornier than ever. But he noticed you. He touched you. God you’ll be thinking about that all day.

DAY SEVEN

You’re at the Gojo family home again. At this point you basically live here. Lia has started making jokes about charging you rent, and you’re starting to worry she’s only half-kidding.

You’re sprawled on the couch with her, pretending to watch some trashy reality show while mostly scrolling on your phone, when Satoru walks in from the hallway looking annoyingly good in just a plain black t-shirt and gray sweats.

“I’m making coffee,” he announces casually. “Anyone want some?”

“I’ll take one,” Lia says lazily.

“I’m good, thanks,” you reply.

He nods and disappears into the kitchen. A few minutes later he returns with two mugs. He hands one to Lia, then turns to you and holds out the second.

“I made you one anyway.”

You blink. “I said I was good.”

“I know.” He shrugs like it’s nothing. “But it’s got hazelnut creamer. You mentioned you like it that one time.”

You freeze mid-reach.

He remembered. Not just that you drink coffee, but the specific creamer you like. From a passing comment days ago.

You take the mug, fingers brushing his, and feel a stupid little flutter in your chest. “Thanks. That’s… pretty thoughtful.”

“It’s just coffee,” he says, but there’s a small, pleased smirk playing on his lips.

“It’s not just coffee. It’s thoughtful coffee.”

He leans against the doorway, studying you with those oh so pretty blue eyes. “I pay attention to things. Especially people. I like figuring out what makes them tick.”

Your pulse kicks up. You take a sip to hide how much that affects you. The hazelnut is perfect.

“And what makes me tick?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

He holds your gaze for a long moment. “Still working on that one. But I’m getting there.”

Then he pushes off the doorframe and heads back toward his room, leaving you staring after him like an idiot.

The second he’s out of earshot, Lia whips around on the couch, eyes wide.

“Oh my god.”

“Shut up.”

“He’s so into you.”

“He’s not. He was just… being nice.”

Lia snorts so hard she nearly chokes on her coffee. “Nice? My brother doesn’t do ‘nice’ like that. He forgot my birthday three years in a row. He barely remembers to make himself coffee most days. But he made you one with your favorite creamer? Unprompted?”

You look down at the mug in your hands, the steam still curling up sweetly. “Maybe he’s just trying to be a good host.”

“Please. He doesn’t give a shit about being a good host. Half the time he ignores people who come over. But he remembered your creamer preference and brought it to you anyway?” She pokes your arm. “That’s practically a confession for him.”

You laugh, but your face feels hot. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m right. And the way he looked at you when he said he’s ‘figuring you out’? That was flirty as hell.”

You shift on the couch, thighs pressing together as your mind immediately goes to images of him figuring you out in much more hands-on ways—those long fingers between your legs while he murmurs nerdy observations about what makes you tick.

“He does have a habit of paying attention to details,” you admit.

“Exactly. And right now all his attention is on you.” Lia grins excitedly. “Operation Bag and Bang is working. My brother wants you.”

You take another sip of the perfect hazelnut coffee, warmth spreading through your chest that has nothing to do with the drink.

Maybe she’s right.

Maybe he really is starting to like you back.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re not only in this for the filthy fantasies anymore. The way he listens when you talk, the way he remembers little things, the look he gets in his eyes when he looks at you… it’s doing something stupid to you. Makes your heart flutter, makes you blush like a lovesick girl.

Doesn’t mean you aren’t going to still absolutely fuck him senseless the second you get the chance, though.

DAY EIGHT

You’re in Satoru’s room.

His room.

You’re sitting cross-legged on his bed, physics notes, textbooks, and crumpled practice problems scattered everywhere. He’s leaning against the headboard looking unfairly hot in a loose black t-shirt and gray sweatpants, glasses perched on his nose as he flips through your messy notes.

You’d asked him yesterday to help you study because you’re genuinely shit at physics and the test is in two days and you’re sure you’re going to flunk. He’d agreed immediately, telling you to bring everything over. You told Lia and she encouraged you and said she’ll leave the house so you two can be alone (best wingwoman and best friend ever btw) Now here you are—surrounded by his nerd clutter of books, beakers, and posters—trying (and horribly failing) to focus while the sexual tension threatens to burn the room down.

“Alright, pay attention,” he says, voice casual but firm as he taps your paper. “This free body diagram is still fucked. You keep forgetting the normal force direction. If you do this on the test you’re gonna lose a ton of points.”

You nod, but your eyes keep drifting to the way his t-shirt stretches across his chest, the faint outline of those nipple piercings visible through the fabric. You want to push him back on this bed and ride him until he forgets every equation he’s ever learned. Maybe you’ll make him solve some while he’s buried inside you just to see him struggle. God you’re getting horny just thinking about it. That’s until he rudely interrupts your fantasies.

“Hey.” He snaps his fingers lightly in front of your face, smirking. “Focus. This test actually matters. I’m not letting you bomb it because you’re too busy staring at me.”

“Sorry,” you say, not sorry at all. “You’re distracting.”

“Yeah, well, get used to it. We’re staying here until you can do these problems without thinking.” He scoots closer, large muscular thigh pressing firmly against yours as he leans in to redraw the diagram. His arm brushes your chest and you have to bite your lip. “See? The force arrow goes this way. Not that way. Mess this up on the real test and you’re pretty much screwed.”

You try again. He checks your work, nodding when it’s better but immediately pointing out the next mistake.

“Better, but still not perfect. Come on, you’re smarter than this. I know you are.” His tone is light, but there’s real concern underneath it. And fuck if that doesn’t turn you on because what the hell’s hotter than a dude actually caring? “I don’t want you stressing out the night before because you half-assed it. Let’s do the next one.”

The tension is unbearable. Every time he leans in to correct something, his knee stays glued to yours. Every explanation comes with casual touches—his fingers brushing your hand when he passes the pen, his shoulder pressed against yours, his breath warm against your ear as he talks through equilibrium problems. You swear he’s doing it on purpose just to torture you.

You keep getting distracted by your uncontrollable filthy thoughts—his hands gripping your hips, that deep voice in your ear explaining exactly how he wants you to move while he fucks you.

“Focus,” he says again, gently flicking your forehead. “I’m serious. This shit builds on itself. If you don’t get the fundamentals now you’re gonna be fucked for the rest of the semester.”

“You’re really invested in my grade, huh?” you tease, shifting so your thigh slides more firmly against his.

“Yeah, I am.” He looks at you directly. “I like when people actually learn stuff. Especially you. So stop looking at my tits and solve the damn problem.”

You laugh but actually try this time. When you get it right he gives you a pleased little smirk and ruffles your hair.

“There we go. See? You’ve got this. Just need to stop getting distracted by how hot your tutor is.”

“Impossible,” you mutter.

He chuckles, low and warm, but immediately dives back into the next concept. “Torque next. This one trips a lot of people up. Pay attention— I’m not explaining it three times.”

You spend the next couple hours like that: bodies pressed close on his bed, heavy tension crackling between every word, while he stays surprisingly focused on making sure you actually understand the material. He’s casual and flirty, throwing in teasing comments and lingering touches, but he never lets you derail the session for too long.

“Last set,” he says eventually, handing you more practice problems. “Nail these and I’ll be impressed. And maybe… reward you somehow.” His eyes drag slowly down your body before flicking back up, heated. Holy shit. Is he implying what you think he’s implying? “But only if you actually get a decent grade. Deal?”

You swallow, already thinking about everything. “Deal.”

He leans back against the headboard, arm stretched behind you, fingers idly playing with the hem of your shirt while you work. The concern for your success is weirdly attractive—mixed with all that casual confidence and the constant undercurrent of want.

You’re definitely passing this test.

And you’re definitely going to fuck your tutor senseless the second it’s over.

DAY NINE

(except it’s actually day eleven because the last two days were just non-stop tutoring and you finally crushed that physics test)

You don’t mean to confess.

It just slips out.

It’s late. The house is quiet. Lia passed out on the couch an hour ago, and Satoru suggested the two of you keep watching The Expanse in the living room. Now you’re alone with him on the big sectional, sitting so close your thighs are pressed together and your shoulders keep brushing.

The show is on, but neither of you is really watching anymore.

Your heart is hammering. His hand rests on the cushion between you, fingers twitching like they want to close the last inch of space between yours and his. The tension has been building for days—those long study sessions where he’d scold you to focus while his eyes lingered on your mouth and legs.

“So,” you say, breaking the charged silence. “I got my physics grade back today.”

He turns his head, blue eyes sparkling with interest. “And?”

You smirk. “A solid B+. Would’ve been an A if someone hadn’t kept distracting me with his hands and voice the whole time.”

Satoru lets out a low laugh, but there’s heat in it. “Told you to focus. I take my tutoring duties seriously.”

“You also promised me a reward if I did well.” You shift closer, letting your hand rest on his thigh. “I did well, Satoru.”

His breath catches. The tension snaps tighter. He looks down at your hand, then back up at your face, eyes darker now.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” His voice is rougher. “What kind of reward were you thinking?”

You lean in until your lips are inches from his. “I think you know exactly what kind I want. I think you’ve known for a while now. Unless you’re just… super dense. Which Lia told me you are, but I think you’re smarter than that.”

He swallows hard. The air between you feels electric. “You’re really not subtle anymore, huh?”

“Nope. I’ve been trying to be subtle for a while now.” Your fingers trace slow circles on his thigh, teasingly high. “So… about that reward.”

He exhales sharply, hand finally moving to cover yours, squeezing. “You’re killing me here.”

“Good.” You tilt your head, lips brushing his jaw. “Because I’ve been dying for days. Sitting in your room, letting you play teacher while all I could think about was climbing onto your lap and shutting you up with my mouth.”

His grip on your hand tightens. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. That’s the idea.”

He turns fully toward you, free hand coming up to cup the back of your neck. The show is completely forgotten. “You really want this?”

“I’ve wanted this since I walked in on you shirtless that first time.” Your voice drops and you bite your lip. “Since I saw those piercings. You’re gonna need to tell me the story behind those someday. Preferably after I’ve had them in my mouth.”

His eyes flare and he chuckles nervously—breathlessly. The tension is so thick it’s suffocating in the best way. He’s breathing harder now, thumb stroking your neck.

“I’ve been trying to be good,” he mutters. “Trying to make sure you actually passed that test instead of just thinking about bending you over my desk every time you leaned over your notes.”

You grin against his mouth. “And now?”

“Now?” He leans in, lips hovering just above yours. “Now I’m thinking about collecting on that reward too.”

You close the distance first.

The kiss starts hungry—three months of built-up tension exploding all at once. His mouth is hot and demanding, tongue sliding against yours as he pulls you closer. You moan into it, and he swallows the sound greedily, hand sliding into your hair.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathing hard.

“Well,” he says, voice hoarse, “that was a long time coming.”

“Too long.” You nip at his bottom lip. “And we’re nowhere near done. I still want my full reward, tutor.”

He laughs, low and filthy, forehead resting against yours. “Greedy.”

“You have no idea.”

He kisses you again, slower this time but no less intense, hands roaming your sides like he’s been dying to touch you. The living room feels too small, too public, but neither of you cares enough to stop.

Satoru pulls back from the kiss just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breathing ragged. “We can’t do this here,” he mutters, voice low and rough. “Parents are upstairs. Lia’s literally passed out on the couch. If anyone hears—”

“Then take me to your room,” you whisper against his mouth, nipping his bottom lip. “Now, please.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He stands up, grabs your hand, and practically drags you down the hallway, both of you moving as quietly as possible. The second his bedroom door clicks shut behind you, he pushes you up against it, kissing you hard again. This time there’s no hesitation—his hands roam down your sides, gripping your ass as he grinds against you.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he groans quietly against your neck. “You have no idea how many times I had to stop myself from bending you over my desk during those study sessions.”

You laugh breathlessly, hands already sliding under his shirt like you’ve imagined a thousand times over the course of the past ten days. “Then stop stalling and show me, nerd.”

He tugs your shirt off first, then his own, and there they are—those perfect, lean pecs with the silver bars through both pink nipples, already hard from the cool air and the tension. You stare like a woman starved.

“God, I’ve been so fucking obsessed with these,” you admit, running your palms over his chest, thumbs brushing right over the piercings.

Satoru hisses sharply, hips jerking against you while his abs clench abruptly. “Sensitive— fuck— they’ve been extra sensitive since I got them done.”

“That’s to my advantage.” You push him back toward the bed, watching him sit on the edge as you climb onto his lap. “I’ve honestly wanted to play with them for months.”

You lean down and drag your tongue over one pierced nipple, flicking the bar lightly. Satoru’s head falls back with a choked groan, one hand flying up to cover his mouth, teeth digging into his fingers.

“Shit— easy,” he hisses, voice strained. “Parents are right upstairs. You’re gonna get us caught.”

You smirk and suck the other nipple into your mouth, tugging gently on the piercing with your teeth. His cock twitches hard against your thigh through his sweatpants.

“Fuck, you’re so evil,” he pants, trying to sound cocky but sounding wrecked instead. “I’m trying to be all cool and collected here and you’re— ah— sucking on my tits like you’re trying to milk me.”

“I wish i could,” you murmur, switching sides and rolling the other bar between your fingers while you lick and suck. His chest is flushed, nipples puffy and oversensitive from the attention. Every tug and flick makes him shudder underneath you. “They’re so pretty. Look at how they get all hard for me.”

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he groans, chest heaving, biting his fist to stay quiet. His face is so red he’s hard to recognize. You’ve never seen him lose his composure this hard but damn if you’re not getting off on it. “I’m supposed to be the one ruining you, not the other way around.”

You grind down on the very obvious bulge in his sweatpants, still lavishing attention on his chest. “Who says we can’t do both?”

He finally snaps, flipping you onto your back on the bed with surprising strength. He hovers over you, sweat dripping down his chest, hair messy. “My turn. Shorts off, baby… please.”

You obey, shimmying out of your shorts and panties while he kicks off his sweatpants. His cock springs free—long, thick, and already leaking. You gasp—audibly so—at the sheer size of him. You knew he was big because you’d seen him in those sinful grey sweats but you never could picture it in your head. But now it’s right here… fuck, you’re soaking. You reach for it but he catches your wrist.

“Not yet,” he says, voice cocky but with that nervous edge underneath. “I’ve spent too many nights jerking off thinking about this. I’m not rushing it.”

He kisses down your body, mouth hot and eager, but you pull him back up by his hair. “You’ve jerked off to me?” You ask breathlessly, a little cocky smile on your lips. “I’m flattered.”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes right at you, licking his lips. “Don’t act like you haven’t done the same, pervert.”

“Never acted like anything.”

“Good.” He’s about to go down on you, his lips finding your neck and then gradually moving lower but you can’t help but want to toy with his nips again. Your fingers gently coax him up to your face again by his hair and he groans. “C’mon…gimme’ a chance to make you feel good.”

“No. I want these again.” You cup his chest, thumbs circling his swollen nipples. “They’re so fucking sensitive. Look at you—shaking just from me playing with them.”

Satoru buries his face in your neck to muffle a moan as you pinch and tug on the bars. “You’re— fuck— such a brat. I’m trying to be a good tutor-turned-lover here and you’re using my piercings against me.”

You laugh softly and lick over one again, sucking harder while your hand strokes his cock slowly. “They’re pretty much mine now. I’ve earned them after all that studying.”

He shudders, hips bucking into your fist. “Yeah? Then keep earning them. Just— quiet, baby. I swear if my mom hears us I’m so dead.”

You keep teasing his chest relentlessly—licking, sucking, tugging on the piercings while your hand works his cock in long, slow strokes. He’s panting into your shoulder, trying so hard to stay quiet, occasionally letting out these choked little whimpers whenever you twist the bars just right or squeeze him a little tighter on the upstroke.

“God, you’re so hard,” you whisper. “All this from me playing with your tits?”

“Shut up,” he groans, embarrassed but clearly loving it. “They’ve always been sensitive but you’re making it so much worse. Or better. Fuck, I don’t know anymore.”

You push him onto his back again and straddle him, rubbing your soaked pussy along his length while you continue lavishing attention on his chest. He grips your hips hard, biting his lip bloody trying to stay silent.

“You gonna fuck me now, sir?” you tease, grinding down. “Or do I need to keep playing with these until you beg?”

He lets out a shaky laugh. “Don’t—don’t call me that, it does things to me,” he groans, cock twitching against you. “Come here— I need to be inside you before I lose my mind.”

He reaches over to his nightstand, grabs a condom with trembling hands (still nerdy enough to be prepared), and rolls it on. Then he pulls you down onto him in one slow, deep thrust.

Both of you moan—his muffled against your shoulder, yours against his neck.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “So tight. Been thinking about this for days.”

“Try three months,” you groaned into his neck, breathing heavily. You start riding him slowly, still playing with his oversensitive nipples, tugging and rolling the bars while you bounce on his cock. Every time you pinch them he thrusts up harder, trying desperately to stay quiet.

“Quiet, Satoru,” you tease breathlessly, echoing his earlier words. “Wouldn’t want your parents knowing their genius son is getting his pierced nips played with while he fucks his sister’s best friend.”

He groans, hips snapping up. “You’re evil. Absolutely evil. I’m never— shit— gonna recover from this.”

You don’t let him recover. You keep the pace torturously slow and deep, spoiling his chest with attention while the pleasure builds and builds for both of you. His cock fills you perfectly, stretching you with every downward grind. The room is thick with the sound of skin on skin and muffled breathing and held back moans.

Satoru’s hands slide up your waist and cup your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples with deliberate pressure. He’s not gentle about it—pinching and rolling them between his fingers while he thrusts up to meet you.

“Fuck, these are perfect,” he mutters, voice low and rough. His eyes are dark, needy, but there’s that cocky edge as he watches your face. “Been wanting to get my hands on them since you kept leaning over my notes in that tank top.”

You moan softly and he immediately covers your mouth with one hand, the other still tugging on your nipple.

“Shh,” he whispers, a little smirk playing on his lips even as his hips snap up harder. “Parents are literally right upstairs. You want to get caught, hmm?”

You shake your head, but the way he’s playing with your tits makes it hard to stay quiet. You lean down and take one of his pierced nipples into your mouth again, sucking hard while you roll your hips.

He groans into your hair, the sound needy and broken. “God— you’re like an addict.”

You pull off with a wet pop, still riding him slow and deep. “Why’d you get them pierced?” you ask breathlessly, fingers tracing the silver bars. “They’re so sensitive. Was it for pleasure purposes?”

Satoru’s hands tighten on your hips, guiding you faster for a few strokes before he forces himself to slow down again. Dominant and needy all at once. “Got them after I lost a bet in second year. Didn’t realize how fucking sensitive they’d make me.” He thrusts up sharply, making you gasp. “Now every time you touch them it’s like they’re wired to my dick. It’s torture. I fucking love it.”

You clench around him at that, riding him a little harder. “What about your cock?” you tease, voice low. “Ever think about getting that pierced too?”

He laughs, the sound shaky and turned on. One hand leaves your hip to slap your ass lightly—playful, teasing—before gripping it again and pulling you down with a soft whine. “Thought about it. A lot, actually. Prince Albert maybe. But I chickened out. Figured I’d rather have someone else decide if they want to decorate it.” His eyes lock on yours, needy but cocky. “You offering to help pick one out?”

You moan at the image, grinding down harder. “Maybe.”

His hands are back on your tits, squeezing and playing while he fucks up into you with controlled, deep thrusts. He’s the perfect switch—letting you ride and tease him one second, then taking over the pace the next, pulling you down onto his cock like he owns your pussy.

“What about you?” he asks, voice husky as he pinches both your nipples at once causing you to moan. “You ever think about getting these pierced?”

You arch into his touch, riding him faster now. “Thought about it. Especially after I saw yours. Thought it’d be hot to have you play with them the way I play with yours.”

Satoru groans, the sound muffled against your shoulder as he buries his face there. “Fuck, don’t say shit like that while I’m inside you. I’m trying not to lose it.” He flips you suddenly—smooth, easy—putting you on your back without pulling out. He hooks your legs over his arms and starts fucking you deep and steady, eyes locked on yours.

“I’d love it,” he admits, voice rough and needy again as he leans down to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. “Love watching you get all sensitive and shaky for me. Love marking you up.” He bites gently, then soothes it with his tongue. “We could match.”

You’re close—both of you are—but he keeps the pace deliberate, drawing it out. His mouth moves between your tits while he fucks you, occasionally lifting his head to kiss you hard, swallowing your moans.

“You feel so good,” he pants against your lips. “This is insane… I’m so into you.”

You tug on his nipple piercings again and he shudders, stomach clenching and hips stuttering. “Keep doing that and I’m gonna come,” he warns, but he doesn’t stop you. He just fucks you harder, switching between needy groans and cocky little comments.

“Yeah? Gonna come from me playing with your tits while I ride your cock?” you whisper.

“Shut up, you brat,” he laughs breathlessly as he pins your wrists above your head with one hand and keeps pounding into you. “You’re gonna come first. That’s an order from your tutor.”

He keeps you right on the edge—slowing down when you get too close, speeding up when you beg, all while his mouth and hands stay on your tits and his cock stays buried deep inside you. Every thrust drags his cock against that perfect spot inside you, but he’s not letting you race to the finish. He’s controlling the pace—slow and grinding one moment, sharp and punishing the next.

His mouth is on your tits again, sucking one nipple while his fingers pinch and tug the other. You’re arching up into him, one hand fisted in his white hair, the other still toying with his nipples.

“Fuck— pull harder,” he groans against your chest, voice muffled but needy. “Yeah, like that. God, you’re gonna make me lose it.”

You yank on his hair and he moans, hips stuttering. At the same time you scratch your nails down his back—hard enough to leave marks. He shudders violently, a full-body reaction that makes his cock twitch inside you.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, doing it again. “You like that? You little masochist.”

He lifts his head, eyes glassy but still cocky. “Yeah. I like it when you mark me up. Pull my hair, scratch me, bite me— fuck, I’m into all of it.”

You laugh softly and bite his shoulder, then suck a mark right next to it. “So the nerd’s a little pain slut, huh?”

“Shut up,” he laughs breathlessly, thrusting harder to shut you up. “You’re the one obsessed with my chest. I’ve been edging you for ten minutes and you’re still playing with my nips.”

He suddenly pulls out completely. You whine at the loss and he smirks, kneeling between your spread thighs. He takes his cock in one hand and slaps it against your soaked pussy—wet, obscene sounds filling the room as the head smacks your clit, your folds, dragging through your slick.

“Look at this mess,” he murmurs, voice low and dominant again. “Dripping all over my cock. You were so cocky earlier about your reward. Where’s that energy now?”

You reach down and spread yourself open for him. “Still cocky. Just desperate. Put it back in.”

He slaps his cock against your clit again, harder this time, then rubs the head up and down your slit without pushing inside. “Ask nicely.”

“Satoru—”

He pushes just the tip in, then pulls out again, teasing. “Nuh-uh. Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.”

You glare up at him, pouting. “I want you to stop being a tease and fuck me properly. Or I’m gonna flip us and ride you with my hands on your tits until you’re the one begging.”

He chuckles, low and filthy, and finally sinks back into you in one smooth thrust. “There she is, atta-girl.”

He fucks you harder now, one hand braced by your head, the other sliding between your bodies to rub your clit in tight circles.

“Been thinking about this every night after tutoring,” he admits between thrusts, voice rough. “You leaning over my desk in those shorts, asking me about torque while I was imagining bending you over it. You have no idea how many times I had to adjust myself because you kept playing with your hair and biting your lip.”

You moan and pull his hair again, making him curse. “I knew. Why do you think I kept doing it?”

“So mean,” he pants, but he’s grinning. He pulls out again, flips you onto your stomach, and yanks your hips up. Doggy this time—deeper, rougher, nastier and so fucking hot. One hand grips your hip while the other reaches around to play with your pussy, two fingers rubbing your clit while his cock slides back in. He lifts one arm and pulls you upward so his chest’s pressing right up against your back. He puts you in a chokehold, bicep against your jaw as he leans in to nibble on your ears.

“Touch your tits for me,” he orders, voice strained. “Play with them while I fuck you. I wanna hear you.”

You do as he says, pinching your own nipples while he pounds into you from behind. Every time you clench around him he groans and fucks harder. When you start getting too close—thighs shaking, moans getting louder—he slows down dramatically, almost stopping, just grinding deep and circling your clit lazily.

“Not yet,” he whispers against your ear, chest pressed to your back. “I’m not done with you. I edged myself for hours thinking about you. Turnabout’s fair play.”

You whimper into his arm, hands coming up to grab onto it for support while he fucks you so torturously slow from behind. “Satoru, please—”

He bites the back of your shoulder, then soothes it with his tongue. “Please what? Use your words, pretty.”

“Please let me come. I’ll be good. I’ll stop teasing your nipples— for five minutes.”

He laughs, the sound warm and wrecked, and starts fucking you properly again. “Five whole minutes? That’s generous of you.”

He keeps you right on the edge for what feels like forever—changing angles, pulling out to slap his cock against your cunt again, fingering you open while you’re empty, then slamming back in. Every time you get close he eases off, kissing your spine, murmuring filthy praise.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he says, voice husky. “All desperate and dripping. My smart girl who aced her test and now can’t even form sentences because my cock’s inside her.”

You reach back and scratch down his thigh, then up to his ass. “And you’re the one who gets hard from having your hair pulled and your back scratched.”

“That makes us a perfect match,” he agrees, flipping you onto your back again so he can see your face. He hooks your legs over his shoulders and folds you in half, fucking you deep and slow while his thumb circles your clit.

“Come for me,” he finally says, voice cracking with need. “I’ve got you, baby. Come for this nerd.”

You do—hard. so hard it’s life changing—clenching around him with a muffled cry into his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck and fingers tightening in his hair. He follows right after, burying his face in your neck, hips stuttering as he comes with a low, broken groan followed by a few shorter ones. Your insides grow warm with the weight of his load-filled condom.

For a long moment neither of you moves, just breathing hard, sweat-slick and tangled.

Satoru lifts his head, hair messy, lips swollen, looking thoroughly fucked out but still smug.

“So,” he chuckles breathlessly, voice hoarse. “Same time tomorrow for round two? I still have more physics notes to go over.”

You laugh weakly and tug his hair one more time. “Only if you let me play with your tits again.”

“Deal,” he murmurs, kissing you slow and sweet. “Brat.”

“Pain whore.”

He grins against your mouth. “Sure, but I’m your pain whore.”

DAY TEN

You wake up tangled around Satoru like you’re trying to fuse with him.

Legs hooked around his waist. One arm slung across his chest. Face buried in the warm curve of his neck, breathing him in—skin, faint sweat, that clean scent that still makes your brain lag. Your other hand rests on his narrow waist, thumb brushing the sharp cut of his hip bone, resisting the urge to slip underneath his pants and squeeze that gorgeous ass.

Holy fuck. You actually fucked Satoru.

And it was filthy. Perfect. The kind of night that ruins you for anyone else. The way he’d switched between pinning you down and letting you play with his oversensitive nips until he was shaking. The way he’d edged you for what felt like hours, cocky and needy at the same time. You’re sore in all the right places and already thinking about round… whatever number you’re on now.

You squeeze your thighs around him tighter, pressing your body closer. God, you’re obsessed with how he feels. All that lean muscle, the way his skin is stupidly soft over hard lines, the little shivers he gives when you accidentally brush his piercings.

Satoru stirs, letting out a low, sleepy groan. His arm tightens around your back, hand sliding down to palm your ass possessively.

“Morning, clingy,” he mumbles, voice rough from sleep. “You gonna let me breathe anytime soon?”

“No,” you answer without hesitation, lips brushing his neck. “I earned this. Ten days of plotting and I finally got the nerd in bed. I’m collecting my trophy.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. One hand comes up to scratch lazily at your scalp. “Trophy, huh? That what I am now?”

“Yep. Property of me.” You drag your nails lightly down his back, right over the very obvious scratches you left last night. “These marks are cute, by the way. Very ‘I got banged’ esque.”

Satoru hisses softly but presses into your touch. “You’re such a shit. I told you my back was sensitive and you still went crazy on it.”

“Ehh.. you liked it.” You nip at his neck, then soothe it with your tongue. “You liked it so much you almost came just from me tugging your hair and playing with your piercings.”

“Shut up,” he says, but there’s a grin in his voice. He shifts his hips, letting you feel that he’s already half-hard against your thigh. “You’re the one who couldn’t stop sucking on them. Thought you were gonna give me a hickey on my fucking nipple.”

You laugh quietly and flick one of the bars with your thumb, making him twitch. “They’re too pretty not to. I’ve been obsessed with these things since the first time I saw them. Still can’t believe you let some random person stab metal through them.”

“Regret nothing,” he says casually. His hand slides between your bodies, cupping one of your tits and lazily playing with your nipple. “Especially not after last night. You were real into it.”

You hum happily and press closer, face still tucked into his neck. “Best decision of my life. The sex was insane. You’re surprisingly flexible for a nerd.”

“Surprisingly?” He squeezes your ass. “Rude. I’ll have you know I’m very coordinated.”

“Yeah, yeah. Big talk from the guy who almost dropped me when we switched positions.”

He snorts. “That was your fault. You started playing with the piercings again and my brain shorted out.”

You smile against his skin, inhaling him again. The realization hits you somewhere deep in your chest when his fingers card through your hair—this isn’t just about how hot he is or how good the sex was. You actually like him. Him. The rambling, the routines, the way he remembers stupid little things, the way he looks at you like you’re entertaining as hell even when you’re being annoying.

You’re catching real feelings. You’re definitely going to marry this guy.

“Ten days,” you murmur. “Took me ten days to get you here.”

Satoru’s hand strokes down your spine. “Took me about three to realize I was screwed. You kept showing up everywhere looking like that and asking me questions about my thesis. You sure knew the way to my heart.”

You lift your head just enough to look at him. His hair is a mess, eyes half-lidded, that lazy smirk on his face. He looks stupidly good in the morning light.

“You’re not mad I basically stalked you into liking me?” you ask, half-teasing.

“Nah.” He leans in and kisses you, slow and easy. “Worked out pretty well for me.”

You settle back against his neck, legs still locked around him, arms holding him close. “Good. Because I’m not moving for at least another hour.”

“Fine by me,” he says, voice already drifting back toward sleep. His hand keeps stroking your back in lazy circles. “Just don’t fall asleep with your hand on my nipple again. Last night you almost twisted it off when you came.”

You giggle softly. “No promises.”

He squeezes your ass in warning, but he’s smiling.

You stay wrapped around him for a while longer, trading lazy kisses and occasional teasing touches, until your stomach starts growling loud enough for both of you to hear it.

Satoru huffs a laugh against your hair. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” you admit, finally untangling your legs from around his waist. “We did burn a lot of calories last night.”

He smirks, sitting up and stretching. The morning light hits the scratches you left down his back and the faint hickeys on his neck and chest. You didn’t exactly do a great job hiding them. Neither did he—there’s a very obvious bite mark on your shoulder and bruises on your hips that ache in a weirdly pleasuring way.

You both throw on clothes quickly—him in fresh sweatpants and a t-shirt, you in one of his hoodies that swallows you and a pair of his huge sweats you had to tie really tightly because they kept falling.

As you’re about to head out the door, you pause.

“So…” you say casually, leaning against his doorframe. “What are we doing here? Like, are we actually a thing now? Or do we just keep doing… whatever this is and see where it goes?”

Satoru turns, one eyebrow raised. He looks a little rumpled and stupidly hot. “I mean, I’m down to make it official. If you want. I’m not really into the casual thing if it’s with you.”

You nod, keeping it light. “Yeah. Same. Boyfriend, then?”

He grins, walking over to pull you in for a quick kiss. “Boyfriend. Sounds good.”

“Cool.”

The conversation ends as easily as it started. Wow. It really is that easy huh.

You head downstairs together.

The second you step into the kitchen, it’s immediate. His mom is at the counter cutting fruit. His dad is scrolling on his phone at the table. Lia is already stuffing her face with toast.

All three of them look up at the exact same time.

The silence is deafening. Terribly so. You want to sink into the ground.

You’re pretty sure the bite mark on your neck is visible even with the hoodie. Satoru has fresh scratches peeking out from under his collar and his hair is doing that freshly-fucked thing. You both tried to look normal. You failed miserably.

Lia’s eyes flick between the two of you, then she smirks around her toast like she just won the lottery. She doesn’t say anything—just goes back to chewing with this shit-eating grin.

His mom raises an eyebrow. His dad just stares for a second before clearing his throat.

Satoru, cool as ever, walks straight to the coffee machine like nothing’s weird.

“Morning,” he says casually, grabbing two mugs. “Oh yeah, we’re dating now, by the way.”

He says it like he’s announcing the weather. Like he’s making small talk. Like he didn’t just announce a relationship.

You freeze mid-step, eyes wide. Wait—right now? Just like that? You were still processing the conversation upstairs and now he’s dropping it on his entire family like it’s no big deal. Your face heats up but… you don’t really mind though. It’s very… him.

Lia snorts so hard she has to set her toast down. His mom pauses mid-slice, then just nods slowly like she’s processing. His dad blinks twice.

“…Since when?” his mom finally asks, fighting a smile.

“Since last night,” Satoru answers, pouring coffee like this is the most normal conversation in the world. “Pass the hazelnut creamer?”

You stand there awkwardly for a second, still a little stunned he just launched it like that, before grabbing a piece of toast and sitting down quickly. You take a big bite to give yourself something to do.

His dad clears his throat again. “Congrats. Try to keep it down next time. The walls aren’t that thick.”

You nearly choke on your toast. You start coughing hard, face flushing bright red as you reach for water. The memories of last night—moaning into Satoru’s shoulder, him telling you to stay quiet, the headboard—flash through your head at full volume.

Satoru just smirks like that didn’t even fucking faze him at all, sliding the creamer your way like nothing happened. “Noted.”

Lia is openly grinning at you now, kicking your foot under the table. His mom is pretending to be very focused on the fruit again, but her shoulders are shaking with silent laughter.

You’re mortified. His dad heard you?! THE WHOLE—

“Relax,” Satoru chuckles like it’s no biggie as he slides in next to you, arm resting on the back of your chair as he hands you your coffee.

“I told you be quiet,” he teases, whispering against your ear like he was sharing some sort of secret. Which technically he is—but now they all know so is it really a fucking secret????He lets out a low groan followed by a laugh when you jab at his side with your elbow, your mouth stuffed with said toast because you’ve been trying not to choke it down.

But despite it all, sitting here in his oversized hoodie, with your crush who’s now your boyfriend and having dinner with his family like he didn’t just fuck your brains out for hours last night, you can’t help but grin through the embarrassment.

This family is never going to let either of you live this down.

But… that’s not too bad, is it?

Because the plan worked and in the span of ten days (technically eleven but that’s not the point), you’ve managed to bang and bag the nerd you’ve been pining after for three months.

well that was fun and took ridiculously long to write this is my longest fic yet but yk what hell yeah. consider this a 1k special because i can’t get anything else out on time LMFAO. i will be continuing this as a mini series that isn’t really a series it’s just oneshots of this gojo x reader and some drabbles and shit idk anyway yeah i hope u guys enjoyed this !!! took me pretty much two days to write and i was writing like nonstop LOL <3 !! side note i had to do so much stupid ass research abt blue eyes and fucking genetics for this shit i am SICK

tag list : @limitlesweets @haniipie @white-camellia-kois @xhslvt @neotoru @gaytron3000 @winniethepoohjusttookapooh @dreamieeesposts @mayhemi @ilymooongo @snowlepod @lewlz @scarletreigns @darkphantommagazine @bangtannnnn @chanpoo @tharunnihaa @miyahluvsjjk @poopynono @mx-mekla @horndogfornerdjo @skeletaldynamolegion

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader

gojover

A LESSON ON LOVE

with your love life in ruins, the last thing you want to do is think about romance. unfortunately, between passive-aggressive notes and an infuriating neighbour named 4B who won’t leave you alone, love might not be done with you just yet

pairing: frat!jo x reader

content: mdni idiots in love, satoru as a faceless voice for a while, larping abt frats again, one (1) frat party scene, voyeurism, p in v, slightly intoxicated but consensual sex, cunnilingus, slight public sex/hidden sex 30k+

note: there are some images in this fic for immersion but if there's any difficulty in reading them, please click the alt text option! alternatively, you can read this on ao3 !!

When you eventually gained the courage to break up with your shitty boyfriend, you knew it would be a public spectacle considering he’s the vice president of Tau Delta Phi. What you didn’t expect, however, was to find yourself spotlighted in the living room of some random houseparty, an empty red plastic cup in your hand and whatever had been inside now poured over your ex-boyfriend’s head.

It was almost funny watching humiliation and rage surge across Naoya’s face, marked by that red-hot blush you’ve seen far too many times, spit flying from his mouth when he yells that you’ll regret this, he’ll make sure you do. To no surprise he had you kicked out, leaving you stranded on the side of the road at 2am, alone, slightly intoxicated, and with a massive hole punctured through your concept of love.

“You’re lucky that’s my dupe deck or I’d end this friendship right here and now,” Gojo says, an easy grin on his face as if he wasn’t pressing up against you, his chest warm and hard against your side, your elbow awkwardly jutting into him. Your hand flexes around the cup, and the ring shifts slightly on your finger. Gojo’s gaze drops to it for half a second, a private little smile cutting across his mouth before he looks back at the table. “We heard about what happened inside,” Geto says. “Are you okay?” Would it be too late to suddenly go mute? If you’re able to recognise Gojo by his voice, then the chances of him putting name to face with the girl next door and you is also very high. Though, considering the way he isn’t immediately pulling you aside to ask if you are indeed the voice in his walls, you want to believe that he has yet to figure out your identity. So no, it isn’t too late to go mute. You nod in response to Geto’s question and flash him a smile, hoping none of it comes off as rude. Gojo hums beside you, the vibration travelling through your bodies. He leans down to speak into your ear, a conversation just for you. “Not much for words? What happened to all the snark earlier?” You stall for time by taking a long sip of Shoko’s concoction, the sting temporarily skyrocketing to the top of your concerns. This may or may not be a bad idea because now that you’re seated, all the previous drinks sloshing around in your stomach and this adding sip burning down your throat, you feel the world tip a little. You probably can’t deflect this question, not when he asks like this, so you settle for something else. Clearing your throat, you try for a lower octave than usual. “I only talk to the people that deserve it,” you say, then let out a small huff at how ridiculous you sound. The grin he shoots you is all confidence and self-assurance, leaning in a fraction closer. “How would you know if you’ve never given me a chance?” “It’s pointless, I already know what you’re like.” Maybe it’s the bonfire or the drink in your hand but you are getting really warm. You take another long sip.

“I think I would remember someone like you.” That causes you to raise an eyebrow, letting his casual flirt roll off you. “Flattery,” you start, poking his chest. You let him catch your hand in his, holding it there against his heart, “won’t get you anywhere especially when it’s empty.” “Who said it was empty? Besides, I know I wouldn’t forget such a pretty girl.” “Oh, you would. You are.” You laugh again, finding the inside joke hilarious. “Try a little harder to remember, hm Satoru?” The challenge makes his eyes glow just like you knew they would, always have known from the moment when a wall still separated the two of you and he had laughed at your provoking, all dark and not humourous at all. “Maybe if you gave me a name.” You’re not quite ready to hear his name from your lips just yet so you only shake your head, wagging your finger at him playfully. “Where’s the fun in that?” “I’m usually a patient man and I’m all for the chase,” he starts, fingers inching closer, brushing hair from the back of your neck as he leans in, “but you’ve left me high and dry for so long.” His words go in one ear and out the other, your breath hitching at the slightest touch. Despite yourself, you gulp and taste the bitter alcohol in your mouth. You feel it too, warmth pooling in your gut and making your head spin. “I’m not an easy person,” you whisper, eyes flickering down to his lips and you bite your own, the rush of all your fantasies suddenly overwhelming you. In all other them, you’ve never once imagined his lips on yours, not until now. And you don’t doubt that after this, you'll be thinking of them often. “Trust me,” he chuckles. “You’re not easy, you’re stubborn as hell and you always give me a hard time.” As if sensing your temptation, Gojo’s eyes trace the way your teeth dig into your lip, watching the pull before you release it, red and slightly jutted out. It makes him want to sink his teeth into your bottom lip and lick the marks it leaves behind.

Sure, you think, eyes rolling back, as if your Etsy witch can touch me anymore when Gojo is fucking me. You slump forward, relief flooding you when you hear his footsteps retreating, but Gojo doesn’t let you rest. He grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, and resumes his brutal pace. “Good girl,” he purrs. His voice is different now, softer, honeyed and almost affectionate. “Such a good fucking girl. You did so well. You listened. You obeyed.” He kisses your shoulder, open-mouthed, wet. “See? I knew you could be good for me.” The whiplash is dizzying and it only makes you arch more, something inevitable and delicious approaching in the far distance. “That's right,” he murmurs, still fucking you deep and slow. “You took that so well. Pretended you weren’t getting your tight little cunt stuffed while your ex was right outside. That takes skill, pretty. You’re so fucking perfect for me.” His hand snakes around your front, fingers finding your clit. He rubs slow, tight circles, and your hips buck. “Bet you've been practicing, haven't you?” His voice is a low, knowing drawl. “All those nights you thought nobody was listening. Thought nobody could hear you moaning. But weren’t you the one to tell me? The walls are thin as shit, angel.” He’s ramming into you now, fast and rough again, his words spilling out between each thrust and all you can do is be a ragdoll in his hold. “You'd lie in bed, late at night, fingers in your pussy, listening to me stroke my cock. I’d hear you. The wet sounds. The little ‘oh, yes’s. And I’d think... fuck, I need to have that. I need to feel that cunt clench around me.” You're dizzy, overwhelmed. His hand on your clit, his cock in your cunt, his words in your brain, it’s all too much. “Did you think I didn’t recognize you at the party tonight? The girl with the needy little moans?” He bites your earlobe, hard enough to sting. “I’ve been waiting for an excuse to corner you. And then you showed up drunk and sad, with that asshole on your heels, and I knew tonight was the night.” He’s watching you in the mirror and you catch his reflection. His eyes are dark, lips parted, face flushed. He’s absolutely beautiful.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #‼️

indiewritesxoxo

slim pickins

good graces | bed chem | busy woman

they were never yours - so what if you find someone who could be?

pairings: toxic!Satosugu x ex-roommate!reader, rebound!Sukuna x f!reader

content: MDNI, angst and smut, heavy pining and yearning, satosugu are dicks, oral (m! receiving), rough sex, consensual recording during sex, unprotected piv sex, arguments, men fighting over you, will the men learn their lesson??, PETTY reader, multiple povs, happy ending

art by @winterrbluess + dividers by @i-mmaculatus

It had been 143 days, eighteen hours and approximately twenty-seven minutes since the day Satoru found your key on the counter.

It might as well have been yesterday.

Your note was in his wallet. Folded up and slotted between his credit card and a Polaroid of you he'd taken a lifetime ago, the ink scribble on the paper seeping through his thoughts still. A blot that he suspected had permanently stained him.

He didn't need to pull it out anymore, by day sixteen he already had every curve and line memorized. Slotted neatly in the box in his brain right next to your smile, the shape of your body when it was folded underneath him, the sound of your laugh.

Seven words were all the past four years were worth to you.

Moved out! Sorry for the short notice :)

That was all.

Seven measly words and the memory of you picking your clothes off the floor, the pout on your lips and the purr of your voice, a bitter last goodbye he hadn't seen for what it was.

Walking away from them with a pretty smile on your face and your phone in your hand.

What killed him the most was how casual it was. Like you had just gone to grocery store. Not emptied out your whole fucking room and dropped off the face of the earth.

Did he not mean more?

Was that all years of friendship had dissolved into? Sharing snacks and sneaking kisses? Limbs tangled and longing stares? Just to be nothing now?

Suguru didn't like talking about you. Didn't want to listen to his never-ending concerns and complaints. Didn't want the reminder of what part he played in pushing you away.

But Satoru couldn't stop.

What were you doing? Where were you?

Were you happy now, at least? Without him? Without Suguru?

It didn't matter how badly he wanted to know, how many hours he spent sitting in your barren bedroom and counting the seconds in silence, how hollow his heart felt in you absence. Because none of it would bring you back.

None of his pining would piece him back together.

Or make you belong to him again.

"You're moping," Suguru dryly commented, reading the ingredients off the back of some cereal box.

Satoru huffed, looking around the empty aisle and leaning against the metal shelf.

Grocery shopping sucked.

It used to be fun. He used to wrap his arms around your waist and plant kisses across your collarbone when no one was looking. He used to throw candy after candy into the shopping cart while you scoffed and scolded him, putting half back up and hiding the smile that curled up on your face when he whined and tugged at your clothes.

They didn't need a cart anymore.

Not when they were only shopping for two now.

But now he kept catching himself absentmindedly tossing your favorite foods in, forcing himself to put it back on the shelf and wonder if you were eating enough without them to cook for you.

Maybe your boyfriend made you meals.

Satoru hoped he hadn't stuck around.

Sure, it was selfish, but wasn't that what Satoru was? Had always been?

If he couldn't have you, he certainly couldn't fucking stand the idea that someone else did.

#satoru gojo x reader #geto x reader #sukuna x reader

indiewritesxoxo

slim pickins

good graces | bed chem | busy woman

they were never yours - so what if you find someone who could be?

pairings: toxic!Satosugu x roommate!reader, rebound!Sukuna x f!reader

content: MDNI, angst and smut, roommate AU, heavy yearning and pining, satosugu are dicks, toxic relationship dynamics, reader getting revenge, jealousy, pettiness, unprotected piv sex, creampie, spanking, slight exhibitionism, threesome, oral (f! + m! receiving), backshots, cum play (sort of), fingering

a/n: this was very much inspired by beat your heart to death by the immensely incredibly talented @specialgradefckr !! divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more !!

Was Sukuna the right person for you?

Probably not. Okay, definitely not.

But still staring at the photo of him at the gym he'd sent you an hour later, moving boxes stacked around you on the floor of your bedroom while you listened to the quiet voices of Satoru and Suguru through the wall, you were more than a little tempted to act on it anyway. The veins bulging against his muscled arms, his compression shirt stretching across his chest.

Your roommates hadn't left Satoru's room in hours. Although, they'd barely been in it for the past two weeks. Constantly taking up space in the common areas, spread out on the couch or cooking in the kitchen every time you stepped out.

Whispering sometimes when you walked by, trying to smooth things over with fresh flowers on the kitchen counter and your favorite takeout when you got home from work. Sending you text messages like you weren't one room over, inviting you for late night movies and going out together like you used to. Declining only seemed to feed their desperation.

Still - there weren't any confessions of devotion. No 'I need you's or grovelling on their knees. The closest they came was Satoru slipping into the bathroom with you one night when you were washing your face, murmuring how much he missed you lately, turning you around and trying to place you up on the counter, his hands on your hips when he got down on his knees to try to eat you out. But you just mumbled an excuse about being too tired, hopping down and away before he could argue about it and returning to your room.

It was your last night before your new lease started tomorrow.

A more, uh, mature person would've had the whole moving out conversation, but you guessed a note and your empty room would suffice. Your trunk was already stuffed full of what you could fit, and you'd already paid movers to come pick up the rest of it when the guys would both be at work tomorrow.

Snipping carefully along the lines to cut them out of your life as neatly as possible, accepting the empty space that'd be left in your heart in their absence. But you couldn't help but think they'd cut themselves out first, intentionally or not, by never giving you the space you needed in theirs.

Suguru laughed at something - a low rumble bleeding through the wall, something you used to find soothing when you were snuggled next to his chest sitting down between him and Satoru. You weren't over him. Pretty sure you'd never be as long as he was always a few steps away. The same went for Satoru, a feeling that festered too long under the surface. But hurt and anger and frustration and bitterness all fought for the forefront of your attention while you existed around them, and your thumbs were typing before you could second guess the invitation you were sending.

They never considered you unless you were the one sharing their sheets - why should they get to have any sway in who was spending time in yours?

Why not go out with a bang?

Let Sukuna break your bed (or you) and let those stupid assholes be the ones overhearing you cry out someone else's name for once.

Pushing all the boxes against one wall as quietly as you could to make a clear path to the bed after he sent a short reply he'd be over soon, trading your pajamas in for a skimpy set of bra and panties before tugging up the smallest shorts you owned that could still pass as not trying too hard. Wiping away the slightly-smeared mascara under your eyes and remaking your bed as you tried to run through a mental checklist of what you were supposed to do when a guy came over despite the fact you never invited one here before.

All those times you'd try to be the perfect friend or roommate or fuck buddy, fill whatever role they wanted from you, just for it to be pointless in the end.

You could wallow and whine about it, but you just wanted to be fucking free.

Just now coming to terms with the fact it wasn't even all on them, but yourself too for letting them toy and twist you until you were the shape they wanted. The worst part was knowing how long you'd waited and wasted for something to be different when you knew you'd just end up disappointed.

Now you were stuck picking up the mangled up remains and trying to piece them into someone new.

Although, you weren't sure yet what a you without them would look like.

#satoru gojo x reader #geto x reader #sukuna x reader

indiewritesxoxo

slim pickins

good graces | bed chem | busy woman

they were never yours - so what if you find someone who could be?

pairings: toxic!Satosugu x roommate!reader, rebound!Sukuna x f!reader

content: MDNI, angst and smut, roommate AU, heavy yearning and pining, satosugu are dicks not gonna lie, reader isn't taking it though, extremely messy relationship dynamics, emotional hurt, reader standing up for herself, semi-public car sex, protected piv sex

a/n: this was very much inspired by beat your heart to death by the immensely incredibly talented @specialgradefckr !! divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more !!

You'd seen the ending from the beginning.

They might've sucked you in, but you never fought back. Just stood still and let the quicksand take you until you landed here, sharing the middle bedroom in what some (yourself, included) would consider an unconventional living arrangement. Unstable would probably work too.

You were fucking Satoru, who was probably fucking Suguru, who was also fucking you.

If you didn't move out soon, the single thread holding the tightrope you were barely balancing on was going to snap, and you didn't think any of you would be able to pick up the pieces of whatever was left - as roommates, friends, lovers, or just strangers.

It'd been over from the first day you moved in. Really, the moment you'd met.

Satoru had been all smiles, so eager it was almost ridiculous how funny and charming you found him, his hand sliding over yours and squeezing like he'd known you forever instead of five minutes. He tutored you in your second to last year of college, forged a flirty friendship of sorts, waiting until you were clearly choking on your huge crush on him to introduce you to Suguru. You'd never been able to tell if he was his friend or boyfriend, but it didn't really matter, did it? Because even now, after the past four years, all the time you'd spent trying to carve yourself a place in their lives and living with them, it never made a difference.

There was them, and then there was you.

Their shared laughter and secret smiles, the tender touches and the way their eyes landed on each other from across the room - the subtle looks they exchanged like they were the only people who actually understood each other, you'd have to be stupid to miss any of it. Which, you guessed they thought you were considering the fact they both always waited until the other one was busy or had plans to bend you over the counter or pull your panties off on top of the washing machine and fuck you like you were the roommate they wanted.

"Suguru's gonna be home soon," You tried to warn him, but everything came out muffled, breathless, your face pressed against the soft mattress in Satoru's room, his hips smacking loudly against your ass. He hadn't even waited for you to finish brushing your teeth this morning to burst into the bathroom to whisk you away, throwing you on his bed and splaying you out like he'd been waiting all week for this.

And yeah, you did feel stupid for the faint flicker of hope that maybe he wanted this half as much as you did.

"Can't hear you," He teased, a lazy drawl to his voice, but you could hear the hint of a whine to it, the part of him that was close to climaxing he couldn't hide. His fingers digging into your hip to hold your ass in the air for him, his tip grinding against your womb like he was trying to fill it up too.

Would you let him?

You wanted to say no, that sure, while you might be idiotic enough to play their game of tug-of-war and let them fuck you dumb in the ensuing push-and-pull, you still wouldn't let either of them do that, even if you were on birth control. But they both had a way of convincing you to go along with whatever they wanted, coaxing you into the palm of their hands with pretty promises. A dog on a leash who only needed a few treats to obey their command.

"T-Toru," You whined, clawing at his sheets while his nails cut in your hips, grasping at the last straws of your sanity while you tried to crane your head up enough to look at his phone that had slid out from under his pillow. A message from Suguru was on-screen when you fumbled to check it, sent almost twenty minutes ago saying he was on his way back. "He's-"

His other hand pressed down on the back of your neck right as he bottomed back out in you, your warning turned into another pathetic whimper of his name instead, gasping for air you couldn't seem to keep in your lungs.

#gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader #sukuna x reader

aliienangel

.𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 ‎ ‎ | ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎𝒔.𝒈𝒐𝒋𝒐

𝒔𝒖𝒎. you quickly befriend your university's cute librarian by going there so often and bothering him when bored. he returns the favour by helping you with study and making you wet for him in public. . .

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ── .✦ mdni (18+), reader is in university, unspecified age gap, smut, pwp, public séx, cúnnílingús, fíngeríng, piv, unprotected séx, créampíes, dirty talk, multiple órgásms, hints of praise and degradation, hint of size kínk, biting (once), gojo's a little freaky, gojo wears glasses, afab!reader, no prns for reader, reader wears a skirt, reader is shorter than gojo, petnames used [5.1k]

The university library is a familiar place for you, it’s quiet and a little underutilised, especially in the wintertime. It keeps you focused, not able to lounge on your couch and watch tv shows when you’re trapped at the public desks. It’s comfortable and quiet and has that smell of old books that brings a little joy. All this and it has the benefit of being here so often that you’re usually the first to check out the books for required readings.

Frequent visiting of the library has also granted you a close relationship with the librarian. Which means that when you want to slack off and procrastinate, you sit by his desk and bother him. Using the free rolling chair beside his to flit around his space and ask meaningless questions, questions he usually entertains.

“Gojo…” you sigh, growing bored that he’s not entertaining you, “what’s your favourite word?”

Like a true librarian, he shushes you, “Shh.” A hand waving you off a little, dismissive because he’s focusing.

#gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #‼️

madamechrissy

Your Name

You're a normal girl in college, a broke little barista and trying your best to keep your scholarships up - Satoru Gojo is not normal, not at all - he's the six eyes, the clan leader, and about to have to marry and take over. The two of you wish for something different when a rare comet shoots across the sky. And that's when you wake up in his body - Satoru Gojo, a powerful sorcerer a world away, and he wakes up in your tiny little dorm bed, with a pair of tits. The two of you stare in the mirror at unfamiliar faces and wonder if any of this is real, and just who the two of you were - could you get back to your bodies, and was a different life really any better?

pairings - Sorcerer! Satoru x fem! reader

warnings Based on the movie your name obviously - it will be very angsty, but also kinda cute - you will keep body swapping throughout, there will be a time difference - fix it fic. Toru is 22, you're 21. size difference to make it more dramatic and funny, canon adjacent (yes, I'm writing him as a sorcerer hehe) Geto never defected, eventual smut, lots of character and plot, emotional - planning on four parts to this. taglist open <3

art by @3-aem of courssee <333

part one

Life was normal before that comet shot across the sky.

You were just a normal college student – struggling in physics, but doing great in everything else. You had a part time job at a coffee shop in your little town, you had a boy you had a crush on and a few friends, but mostly – you studied. You studied till your eyes burned, till they hurt so badly you fell asleep right on your desk, drooling on whatever text book you had.

You didn’t come from money – your family in fact was too broke to put you through college, but they loved you, they helped you get financial aid and scholarships so hopefully you could do better than they did. You loved them very much, too, there were video chats every day since you lived in the dorm outside of your city.

Days were just that – normal, as you worked on your degree, a wicked hangover on your twenty first birthday, where you finally got your first kiss. Yeah – you could say you were that much of an introvert, you hadn’t even done that yet. You wish you remembered it more, it was something quick and hasty as fireworks went off, it was that time of year when you were born.

Something special, something beautiful, but something was…

Off.

It was off even that day. Maybe your period was coming or something, but everything on the day of your twenty-first felt off – especially when you got that damn letter saying if you didn’t raise your physics grade you’d lose that funding.

Tears blurred your vision as you collapsed onto your bed with that letter, knowing if your parents knew how horribly you were doing they would be so disappointed. You couldn’t help but wish for an escape from the crushing weight of all these expectations – many of which you placed on yourself, rushing to take that invite and get positively drunk at a party.

You didn’t tell the guy it was your first kiss, you just did that – let him slide his tongue in your mouth and press you against a wall, then it was all a bit of a blur – you heading back to the dorm, sneaking away. Crying yourself to sleep even though you technically ‘had fun’.

Why did you feel so lonely, though?

Yet when you woke up, everything changed.

Your body changed.

Your fucking room changed.

You were no longer in your little dorm – you’re in some fancy ass, rich ass room with an enormous bed and black silk sheets. You gasp and worry – did you end up with that dude last night? Did you think you got home but got too fucked up!? Your heart hammers in your chest as you peek down – and then you see it.

You see it and fucking scream so loud, seeing you’re wearing boxers rather than panties – and instead of your pussy, there was a dick. Oh, not a small dick, either – and not a soft one, a fully hard, massive fucking cock was on your body.

#gojo x reader #series

aliienangel

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎.𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬' 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞‎ ‎ | ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎𝒔.𝒈𝒐𝒋𝒐‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈. ceo!gojo satoru / assistant!reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎. you've been working at the same company for the last five years and you'd continue to do so if your circumstances hadn't suddenly changed. after you put in your resignation, your boss is doing everything he can to make you stay. . .

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ── .✦ mdni (18+), office au ; smut ; light angst ; making out ; porn with plot ; fíngeríng ; cünnilíngus ; biting ; hickeys ; praise kink ; piv ; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) ; dirty talk ; big díck gojo ; creampíes ; multiple orgasms ; tiny bit of overstim ; little bit of nípple play ; use of wrist restraints but like not really (it's readers shirt) ; makeshift restraint if you will ; gojo kinda pervy but that's how i like him ; gojo's a yearner (also how i like him) ; f!reader (she/her used) ; pet names used ; no use of y/n [11.6k]

#gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #‼️#holy shit

madamechrissy

please, please, please

You love being Satoru Gojo's girlfriend, he dotes on you, takes you on dates, spoils you - just one little problem, you are perpetually ovulating around him! Is wanting your nerdy boyfriend's cock in your mouth really such a bad thing? Satoru wants to wait for the perfect moment for your first time, though! He'll totally wait even when you're wearing that slutty lil dress and grinding on him, right?

pairings - nerd! gojo x girlfriend! reader

warnings - cute and silly, oral over panties/boxers, Satoru edging tf outta us -- reader is horny, Shoko/Hime, Sukuna being a fratboy dick, jealous Toru, rough blow jobs, p in v sex, first time, squirting, teasing, fingering, creampie, consent, breed kink, making your nerdy boyfriend feral and spit in your mouth <3

art creds here!!

this was a comm for my angel @cantarcantar!! ty for understanding that my life was like INSANE - ilysm for being patient <3 wc - 10.1k

It took you almost two years of crushing on Satoru Gojo to actually become his girlfriend, and you’re loving every minute of it. From being too damn shy to admit you like him, to very awkwardly trying to confess and every chance just utterly failing – to then instead becoming the very best of friends.

You two were finally ‘officially together’ as a couple.

Oh, and it was everything, being in his arms, swallowed up by those huge biceps he had hidden underneath his starch white dress shirts. Hearing that little laugh from his lips, all of those sweet little kisses he bestowed upon you – truly, all the feelings blossoming between the two of you in the most beautiful way, especially over the months of truly being his girlfriend.

He’d take you out for all day movie marathons, going to play bumper cars, mini golf, you name it – Satoru was down for it. Every date was a meticulously planned out one too, with little to no down time aside from the drive to and from. Perhaps that’s where you would sneak just the littlest pecks on his neck, hear his sighs as he gripped the gear shift of that fancy sports car.

Satoru adored you – and you adored him.

You were all his. There was no one else in the entire world than the boy who could never quite tie that tie on correctly, always just a little crooked for you to straighten out.

Yet with that came you being unreasonably horny all the fucking time, who wouldn’t be with Satoru though? Those long fingers pressing into your waist, the way that bulge pressed between your thighs, plump lips slipping up your throat. Every time it even got just a little close, maybe you were grinding so good that you were about to cum from that – he paused it.

Wearing a cute, bashful little smile on his face, fogged up, thick rimmed glasses – murmuring sweetheart in a voice that’s designed to make your pussy drip, and you feel like a complete pervert for wanting to beg for more. God, imagining his cock in your throat alone had you desperate and needy, let alone having him filling you, pumping you full, taking you first.

Maybe you are a pervert, truly.

You’ve tried so hard to be patient, you want him to want it as badly as you do, but every time you’re making out with your boyfriend – the top of the dean’s list and ultimate dungeon master for DnD – Satoru Gojo?

Every time his big ass hands grip your waist and he drags you down against his length, before he puts a pause on it?

You can’t even think about it.

#gojo satoru x reader #‼️

iamsoclone

Winner Takes It All — Loser Just Takes It

Pairing ⋆. 𐙚 Gojo Satoru x f!reader

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

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

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

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

Today is one of those days.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#gojo satoru x reader #‼️

ttakdoll

꩜ – SATORU GOJO really likes the way reader says his name .ᐟ

(18+) :: content – gojo x fem!reader, smut, fingering, cunnilingus, voice kink

satoru really likes the way you say his name.

other people never get it right, in his opinion. there’s always a vowel that’s too drawn out, or a consonant that’s pronounced too sharply. he only ever smiles and nods when people say his name like that — it’s fine, sure. but it’s not right.

it’s become something very particular for him.

it’s not sah-toe-roo.

he’s also heard sahh-to-roo.

and some people will extend those vowels past their welcome.

but you? it glides off your tongue like honey.

sa-to-ru.

he likes the way it gets all sharp on your lips when you’re mad at him. satoru would never admit it to you, but sometimes he’ll piss you off on purpose whenever he’s in the mood to hear how you sharpen the consonants like knives when you're telling him off.

“what?” the sorcerer sits back in your office chair, the faintest traces of a completely intentional grin on his face.

he’d come in early for once in his life for this exact purpose; satoru knew you always came in devastatingly punctual, so he’d make sure to greet you the best way he knew how to make your morning: by sitting in your office and kicking his feet up on your paperwork.

you loved things clean. it’s cute. he wants you fucking messy, though!

and you’re seething so adorably, with your face all scrunched up and your shiny eyes narrowed. “does this look like your office, gojo?”

nope. not what he wants to hear.

satoru sits up abruptly, making a show out of glancing around the room, before letting out an exhale of a laugh. “you know, all the offices look suspiciously similar. might wanna bring it up with the higher-ups.”

“get out.”

“did you get enough sleep last night?” he tilts his head, feigning concern. “you’re being awfully rude about this.”

the way you narrow your eyes makes satoru wish he could see them glitter with crystallized tears, with his weight on top of you as he slides his tongue between your thighs—

you suck in a breath past pretty lips. “i’m not in the mood. yaga has me on the clock. please just give me this, gojo.”

please, you say, and it makes him smile smugly. satoru loves hearing it (although he’d love hearing it beneath the dark of a particularly low-lit bedroom), but he needs more. needs your voice to wrap around his name like you own it.

“plead nicer. unfortunately for you, i’m in the mood.”

“fuck, no.”

he leans further back into your chair. “didn’t hear you. sorry?”

“satoru.”

there it is. sa-to-ru; just the way he likes.

on other days, even when you’re rendered all sheepish and embarrassed at one of his jokes, satoru just can’t get enough of the way you say his name.

this time, your tone dulls around the edges, always muttered under your breath in front of important people when he’s threatened to embarrass you with something he’s said — it’s soft and small and stern all at the same time, dancing through the air like warm fucking breeze in the winter. he just wishes you wouldn’t be so quiet about it; if the sorcerer had a choice, he’d have your voice on repeat.

he already does, in a way.

it’s why satoru’s taken to teasing you specifically whenever you have faculty meetings in front of the higher-ups, or whenever you’re particularly engrossed in a lesson with your students, just to see you when you’re caught off your game and a tiny bit upset.

satoru loves you when you’re pouting, loves when your lips press flat into a thin line or when the inside of your cheek catches between your teeth, like you’ve got a retort on the tip of your sweet tongue but won’t let it slip for your own sake. so fucking considerate all the time.

you’re unbelievably gorgeous when you’re so composed.

and you let that sweet little breath of his name slip from your mouth when he’d push you a little too far during your class with your first years on reverse cursed technique. your eyes fixate on the ground, lips downturned, as satoru’d just gotten all of your students to laugh at a little jab towards your explaining methods.

“satoru.” you chastised in a small mumble, “let’s talk after my class, please.”

sa-to-ru.

god, that little whisper will be in his dreams tonight.

he’ll hear it over and over again and wish you’d mumbled it right against his earlobe, because no one else ever deserved to hear your voice like that.

“that’s awfully secretive, sensei. what’s so important that our beloved students can’t listen in on it, hm?” he knows what you’re getting at, of course.

but truthfully, he just wants to see your face contort with that fiery little expression, the same one he wanted to mouth at every inch of until nothing was left but pure bliss.

and satoru’s not shy about the way his heartbeat picks up when you nudge yourself a tiny bit closer, just to make sure he’s the only one who can hear what you say next. just so that your voice is only for him.

as it fucking should be.

the sorcerer’s hand just about brushes your hip, and save him if it isn’t taking everything in him to make sure he doesn’t grab you and pull you into his side like he has the right to do so.

“i don’t want my beloved students to hear me threaten to kill their sensei right here,” oh. satoru’s mind goes deliciously numb.

he grins, the edge of his mouth upturning slowly. “i’d love to see you try.”

you frown a tiny bit more.

“what exactly do you get out of pissing me off all the time?”

well.

⭑.ᐟ

#gojo satoru x reader #‼️

minhosimthings

Unconditional, Part 2 || 18+

Synopsis: You and Maki were from two completely opposite words. But hey, worlds always collide to make galaxies don't they?

Pairing: bodyguard Maki x rich!fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v, unprotected sex (not for you dumbass), oral (f receving), fingering, edging, mean dom maki (he goes soft too issokay), rough sex, manhandling, ceiling mirror ehehe, brat taming, degradation, forced proximity, reader is spoilt af but our boy's gonna put us in place, mention of alcohol and blood, violence, a LOT and I mean a LOT of plot gomenesai

A/N: Part 2 to @wichujunseo's bday fic!!!! fuck you tumblr for the block restriction but yeah this one is the smut part guys. First time writing ceiling mirror jebal tell me its good. Enjoy, my darlings!

Word Count: 12k (first part had 17k, and smut is 4k)

PART ONE

All your life, everybody around you had convinced you that you were untouchable, a goddess at the top of a mountain no mortal could reach. Untouchable, in both senses, physically as well as pertaining to your status.

Lies, lies, lies.

Riki Mauss was certainly touching you particularly roughly, his body engulfing yours—oh those broad shoulders—as he pinned you against the wall of his locker room.

#hirota riki x reader #maki smut

minhosimthings

Unconditional || 18+

Synopsis: You and Maki were from two completely opposite words. But hey, worlds always collide to make galaxies don't they?

Pairing: bodyguard Maki x rich!fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v, oral (f receving), fingering, edging, mean dom maki (he goes soft too issokay), rough sex, ceiling mirror ehehe, brat taming, manhandling, degradation, forced proximity, reader is spoilt af but our boy's gonna put us in place, mention of alcohol and blood, violence, a LOT and I mean a LOT of plot gomenesai

A/N: Happy birthday to my beloved, my kuchumuchupuchu, the haechan to my mark, the taki to my yudai @wichujunseo Kayz my baby my daughter i birthed her guys and i love her so much. breaking my no maknae line fic rule because Kayz is high on the maki pill and as her mother its my responsibility to feed her everything on her birthday. As always, enjoy, my darlings! (had to divide it into two parts because of the 1000 block restriction smut in next part!)

Word Count: 17k in this one, 30k overall (i dont play about bday fics yall)

PART TWO

No fair.

Those were the words that had been going on in your brain since the morning. No fair, no fair, no fair!

Everybody knew you were the most obedient girl to ever exist, an angel who could do no wrong, practically god’s own daughter….

with a charge for assault.

#hirota riki x reader #maki smut

deerhuntings-deactivated2026060

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀AVALON ♡ &TEAM .ᐟ

how the teamies react when you try to sleep on the couch after an argument.

❪ cw: no warnings just tooth rotting fluff! ❫ ⟋ 𝐦̲𝐝̲𝐧̲𝐢̲ ⟋wc. 2.3k ⟶ 𝓂asterlist here!

YUDAI

You didn’t make a scene, didn’t scream or argue — just changed out of your clothes, wiped your make up and took your things from the shared bedroom. With a blanket in hand you made a beeline to the couch, setting it up for you to sleep in. Yudai was nowhere to be seen and a small pang ached in your chest, he didn’t even bother to convince you to sleep with him.

#&team

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