#DAMN that line goes hard

[rainyraisin]

HOLY SHIT

I DONT JUST LIKE IT I LOVE IT WITH ALL MY HEART FYLNXGKNGCBK AHHHHHH THIS WAS SO WORTH THE WAIT THANK YOU SM DUDE THIS IS SUH AN AWESOME SECRET SANTA GIFT YIPPEE YIPPEE YAY‼️‼️‼️💖💖💖🌸🌸🌸🌸🫂🫂🫂🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 Will be freaking out about this for the rest of time omigosh!!!!!

Cerebral

tws/cws: body horror, brain fuckery (idk what else to call it), descriptions of overstimulation/sensory ickyness, very brief mentions of both vomiting and self harm, shitty writing from yours truly

wordcount: 929

notes: did a secret santa event in a discord server and this is what I did, but I might end up continuing it . idk yet . I hope they like it because this thing took me foreverrr

Access denied.

Access denied.

Access denied.

Tendrils. Twisting, touching, examining, attaching. Like curious little leeches. Except instead of draining and taking they gave.

Sensations. Textures. Feelings. Information. So much information. They felt like their brain would explode right out of their skull. Buzzing, electrical, diluted thoughts.

They're being exposed to information they never would've known. It's unnatural yet far from artificial. Currents of consciousness flickered in and out, barely understandable among the others. Rain falling into the ocean, individual yet part of the whole.

Unexpectedly, the technodrome wasn't one mind, a strand of being, but an entire network of interconnections, spiraling together like a knot, neverending conflicting thoughts and feelings of their own. Sprawling out into this vessel. The technodrome. They almost forgot where they were.

It was so easy to lose yourself in the constant stream of feelings. Maybe that was on purpose. They weren't sure if it(?) even had programming, but they knew that if it did, everything written in code was purposeful.

A purpose. What was the purpose of this thing? It felt wrong to call it that. A thing. It was a living database, collections of information and ideas. Like brains, almost, even if artificial. How advanced was kraang technology? Questions, yet no answers.

Another thread among the others. Their thoughts buzzed along with the rest. Lost among the current. Wondering if they would even get a response. Inputs, outputs.

Error messages blare in the background. Panic. What was happening? There was a disconnect from their outer vessel body. It was barely theirs. Poking and prodding. Examination. Was it fit for use? Leeches again. Inspection. Mess of tentacles. Sensory hell, slime and feelings and fluid and gross. Eugh. Don't slip back, focus. What happened.

Access denied.

Access denied.

Access denied? To what? They weren't trying to access anything. Everything was orderly until a few moments ago. A disturbance. Busy. No more poking.

Noise. Outside noise. Voices. Talking. External. Threat. Familiar voices. Who?

The asset you are trying to access is occupied.

...Asset? Which asset? What was trying to access it?

It was incredibly difficult to see outside of the console. Despite having an external form, it wasn't as active or useful because of the disturbance. Plus they weren't sure how to function it while being able to concentrate on other things. Everything was foreign. New. Scary. what am i even doing what is happening nononono everything is wrong all wrong wrong wrong wrong

Responses. Electrical sensations. Everything was fine. Everything would be as long as this thing threat was gone.

Movements, pulling, dragging, attachment. Leeches are back. This time their body was being moved, puppeted, not simply inspected. It was fit for use. A good vessel. No longer theirs.

Their vision is shifted out of wherever it was before. Everything is blurred and yellow-tinted, like they're looking through a dirty camera lense.

They try to blink to clear their vision. Nothing happens. They try to move something, anything, desperately, but nothing happens.

They feel things happening. Their body being altered to better fit its new purpose.

Tendrils trail around their body, sticking onto their scales and fusing with their being. It felt horrid. Sickening sensations. They would've vomited by now if they had any semblance of control.

Their skin feels itchy and gross. They can do nothing to fix it. Scratch it get it off out out get out of me get off leave please this is mine not yours off-

Their body shambles towards whatever was infront of them. Their vision was still strange, so they couldn't really tell, but they could make out colors. Different shades of green. Red, blue, orange..

Wait.

shit shit shit shit shit shit shit SHIT nononono anything but this shit FUCK.

The threat had been identified.

Maybe they would get lucky. Maybe it wouldn't be able to pilot their body well enough to do any damage. They knew this was all wishful thinking, but if there was any time for irrational thoughts it was probably now.

They didn't doubt their siblings abilities, but they didn't doubt theirs either. They'd kicked a lot of ass, and this made their body stronger. It didn't have any sense of mercy either, so in short, them and everyone involved were fucked.

Like an idiot, they tried to move their body again. The definition of insanity was trying the same thing over and over again in hopes of a different result, so maybe they've lost it. It was better then doing nothing and letting it happen. They hoped that somehow their efforts would amount to something, even though they knew better.

Their body moved again, (if you could even call it theirs anymore) getting closer to their siblings. It seemed inexperienced with piloting a body like theirs, but it was unfortunately a fast learner. Shuffling quickly turned into full steps. Closer, closer.

They weren't sure what was happening anymore. As time went on they felt more distant from their physical form. The dissonance of the technodrome's inner workings began to buzz in the back of their mind again. They felt themself slipping despite their rising panic and desperate efforts.

Despite their hatred for metaphors they felt like they were a fly in a spider's web. Trying and struggling again and again with no result. Small. Afraid. Unable to fix anything. Save themself.

Everything felt distant. They felt their hands grip something metal. High grade titanium familiar against their palms, familiar shape curled around their fingers. Thoughts about fighting tactics and a specific battle style being picked through.

They didn't know what happened next.

[blueskittlesart]

what do you think his thoughts were at that moment?

this is an insane question and i am going rabid trying to answer it. for context this is about my. link dead on the fucking floor compilation. i. e. "what do you think went through link's mind as he all but DIED in precalamity botw."

i've thought about this before because. well obviously i have. look at how many times i've drawn it. i think context matters more than anything when examining that moment, because it's essentially the culmination of link's entire life up to that point in the worst way possible. you have a kid who has been raised to either win or die. those are his only two options. he's known this for basically as long as he can remember. either he defeats the calamity like he's supposed to and lives the rest of his life as an untouchable gold standard of soldier, as proof that all that pressure and pain he suffered worked, or he dies and dooms everyone he has ever loved to suffer horribly for the rest of their likely very short lives. And i do think he thought about this extensively, because how could you NOT, and i think that he probably believed that death was the most likely outcome. He was raised by a soldier, around soldiers, to be a soldier. soldiers are practical. soldiers strategize for the most likely scenario. they're not pessimistic, but they know how to look at a situation objectively and make a judgement call. Looking at link's situation objectively, it would have been obvious that he couldn't win. he was one kid, a 16-year-old boy, with maybe some above-average swordsmanship skills, but too many variables were missing. he couldn't hear the sword's voice. zelda's power wouldn't manifest. Hylia, who should have been there guiding them through this prophecy that SHE had supposedly inflicted on them, was completely silent. the divine beasts may have given him some hope, initially, but it was clear below the optimistic facade that hyrule was toying with very dangerous forces they didn't truly understand. I think he very likely went into that confrontation with the calamity anticipating death.

what's most interesting to me about the scene of link's death isn't that he fell, but WHERE he fell. because he didn't die in the sanctum, at the scene of the calamity's birth, as one might have expected. he died in an empty field along the road to a fortress that might have been able to protect him. Link, the bearer of the triforce of courage, the boy raised to die a martyr at the hands of the calamity, who had all but accepted his fate before the monster even showed its face, chose to run for safety, what some might call the coward's approach, instead of dying where he stood at ganon's hand. and it seems almost out of character at first, when you think about the person he was when he first met zelda, the person who would do anything in his power to show no weakness, to take the pain and the stress without flinching or faltering. the boy who so completely embodied that idea of "courage." but i think that zelda was the piece that changed him. If it had just been him at that final confrontation, maybe he wouldn't have run. maybe he would have been content to take his final stand and accept the death he'd been promised. but zelda insisted on being there, too. "there must be something i can do to help." and while link was a soldier, more than willing to engage in self-sacrifice, he was also a knight, sworn to protect this girl, and so he couldn't in good conscience sacrifice HER, too. so he ran. he tried to live, at a moment when he should have expected to die. and i think that was infinitely more courageous of him. to go against everything you have ever known and expected is infinitely scarier than accepting the outcome you've always anticipated. Running for his life (and for zelda's) was running into the unknown. escaping death in that way was defying everything he'd built himself up to be, everything everyone expected of him. Who is link if not the hero who faced the calamity with courage? what would he have to be if he could not be what was expected of him? in that moment, he made the choice to step into the unprophesized timeline, into a world where his actions were no longer defined by some great all-seeing power. and that was the most courageous move he could have made in that moment. he must have been terrified.

so what was going through his mind as he made his last stand? Honestly, i think the only thing on his mind was zelda. I don't think he cared about himself, his physical condition, any of it. I think he made the choice to run because of zelda and so he made the choice to take his final stand where he did because of her, too. just before zelda's power manifests, we see him try to continue fighting even inches from death, so gravely injured that he's unsteady on his feet, using his sword to keep himself standing. i think he must have known that he was in no condition to fight anymore, but he expected death to come for him at one point or another. what mattered was that she might live as long as he kept going. that's why he ran in the first place. not for himself, but because zelda was there and zelda didn't deserve to die like this. Even once zelda's power manifests, link only gives up and allows himself to fall once a beat or two has past--once he's sure that there really is no more danger. that she'll be okay, that she can make it past the fort and into relative safety even if he lets go here. He collapses then, and only then, after running miles through fields and woods, already gravely wounded, because in that moment he sees that the danger has past. a soldier's work is only done when there is nothing left to fight. a knight's work is only done when his princess is truly safe.

maybe he was relieved that he'd managed to hold on as long as he had. that he'd been able to find her some form of safety, in one way or another. maybe he worried about what manner of things would come for her once he was gone. maybe he wondered why she wouldn't just leave him and run for the fort. i'm sure there was a flash of regret in the back of his mind, for the family and friends he'd leave behind, for the people he'd let down, for the calamity he wasn't able to defeat. but this was the outcome he'd expected, even if it had come in a slightly different form. Even if now there was a girl hovering above him begging him to open his eyes.

[bridgeportbritt]

Creeksbrey Palace | Umbrage, SimDonia

Emmitt: Morning, sweetheart. How'd you sleep?

Bria: Pretty good. How about you?

Emmitt: Alright. I did have a dream that I was a famous jazz piano performer, so that was interesting.

Bria: Ooo! Maybe it's a sign! I wouldn't say no to being serenaded by piano every night.

Emmitt laughs: I'd need a lot more practice before you'd actually enjoy my serenades.

Bria: Well, get on it, babe.

Emmitt chuckles: Sure, dear. Oh, I was meaning to ask you where you were yesterday. I was planning on surprising you for lunch, but when I checked with your staff, they said your schedule was blocked for an urgent, private meeting.

Bria: Oh, yes! I'm glad you brought it up because I've been wanting to talk about it for a hot minute.

Emmitt: Uh-oh. What's this about? Should I be worried?

Bria: You won't believe who I met with.

Emmitt: Who?

Bria: The Queen's mysterious little sidekick - Lydia.

Emmitt: Really? What in the Simverse could she want?

Bria: It was an interesting conversation...

Lydia: Welcome, Grand Duchess. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.

Bria: What is this? Why am I here of all places?

Lydia: We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot and that's the last thing I want, so I wanted to clear the air.

Bria scoffs: Yeah, right. And it's "Your Royal Highness," remember?

Lydia: Of course, Your Royal Highness. My apologies. I don't mean to offend you.

Bria: Yeah, like I'd believe that. You're one of the most offensive people I've ever met. You've done nothing but target me and my family since you've gotten into the Queen's ear.

Lydia: Your Royal Highness, I promise you that that has not been my intention.

Bria: Really? All these insufferable new rules, my whole new wardrobe, and now bringing my kids into this nonsense? Oh, and I'm sure you had something to do with KBE.

Lydia: You've got it all wrong, Your Royal Highness. I want to be an asset to you and the monarchy, not a hinderance.

Bria: How on Earth could you be an asset to me?

Lydia: Well, name your price.

Bria confused: What do you mean?

Lydia: Name what I can do to be of service to you. Anything and I'll make it happen.

Bria: And why would you do that?

Lydia: Isn't it obvious? You and your family are invaluable to the monarchy. You're one of the most influential royals with an incredible global impact on everything you touch. I apologize if you haven't felt appreciated as of late. But I want to make it right.

Bria: Even if I believed any of the crap you're saying right now, I'm sure you wouldn't agree to any of the things that I want.

Lydia: Try me.

Bria: Well for starters, anything that has to do with my children goes through me first. Nothing should be hidden from me especially anything medical. Next, I want leniency provided to my kids when they are not performing official royal duties like on the dress code for example. Lastly, I want our move with KBE to go through without any obstacle. You want to make me happy? Those are my non-negotiable terms.

Emmitt: Wow, you asked for all that?

Bria: I sure did.

Emmitt: That's amazing. I'm proud of you, honey. Surprised by this whole conversation, but proud that you stood your ground. So, what did she say to that?

Bria: That's the craziest part.

Emmitt: Oh, really? Why?

Bria: Because, she said... yes!

[jakekazansky]

I have that there’s an axolotl at the dive bar song stuck in my head

[j-femmescoli]

i swear there was a post that was like what's your favorite line from hallelujah and i swear i reblogged it with mine in the tags but i can't find it on my blog so i'm posting it again. mine is "remember when i moved in you and the holy ghost was moving too and every breath we drew was hallelujah"

[untilyouremember]

Chihiro-kun Only Has Eyes for Me

Available digitally

[daincrediblegg]

least favorite jared harris role

boy that's tricky. considering I watched both The Eternal and The Ward earlier this week (in lieu of birthday celebrations bc of course I celebrate by watching things with my one special little guy in it)... there are new contenders. that being said I think there's two answers for this: actual worst role, and role that is the most painful for me to watch. and it's two different answers actual worst role goes to Older Will Robinson in the 90's reboot of lost in space because not only did they put him in a fucking muppet wig but for SOME REASON they decided to dub his voice??? which is just a baffling choice on the part of the producers. it's painful to watch and to look at and it just isn't worth it like?? why would you cast that boy if that was all you were going to do with him? as for the 2nd, the role that is most painful for me to watch? the man from UNCLE. Look. I came in initially for my man. only for him to have a grand total of like. two minutes of screen time. if that. and it's a fucking guy ritchie film to boot (not entirely derogatory. he has his moments as a filmmaker. but some times I think 'this guy is gonna get cancelled any fucking day now' just by watching any given film of his). so then when I watched it, and told folks I watched it and that Henry Cavil is also in it, everyone else wanted to watch it with me. I have seen this movie a grand total of 5 separate times with 5 different people in the last half a year alone and let me tell you. that's four too many times. not worth it for the sliver of jared being delicious that you get for your efforts of sitting through the rest of a guy ritchie film. deeply unsatisfying fr. never fucking again man.

[rabbitslikecarrots]

“How easy it is when one’s not being stewed in a heap of rotting wood to take for granted that everything decays”

- Entangled Life, by Merlin Sheldrake

[tonycries]

Hot Nerd Summer - G.S.

Synopsis. The best way to beat your tall, nerdy, hot academic rival during finals? Fúck him!

Pairing. Gojo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, nerd!Gojo, academic-rivals-to-Iovers, first times (Gojo), unprotected, hándjobs, semi-public (library), exhíbitíonism, he goes FÉRAL, coming back for more, slight switch!Gojo, face-sítting (fem rec.), 69, PÚSSYDRÚNK Gojo, size kínk, he’s BIG, rough s, running from it, creampíes, making him cúm dry, cúmplay, toys, punk!Geto cameo, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 11.2k

A/N. Happy Vesak to anyone that celebrates!!

“That jerkwad got 0.4% higher than me again, Suguru.” You’re fighting the urge to wallow your face on top of the café’s cluttered table, instead shaking a weary Geto Suguru by his broad shoulders. “Again! I’ll never make the top of Yaga’s Dean’s List now.”

Geto wonders whether this would be a good time to slip away- no. He shudders, thinking about the way said ‘jerkwad’ was probably skulking around, looking to lament about the very same thing. 

Honestly, if this was a romcom it would be almost cute. Almost. 

“Gojo’s just too- too smart.” You’re rubbing your aching temples, as if the words pained you to utter. “And infuriating, of course. And cocky and a try-hard and-”

“Honestly, you two should just duke things out in the bedroom.” He takes a looong sip of his milkshake, letting the silence drag on as you gape. 

“Suguru that’s…” Bracing himself for yet another monologue on your supposed rival. Damn valedictorians- finals season was getting to you. “-that’s genius.”

He frowns. 

Okay, finals season was really getting to you. 

Taking a confused second to check his drink - strawberry milkshake, low sugar, as usual - he concludes that he definitely wasn’t spiked in any way and was definitely hearing you wrong. Of course, an understandable mistake. And so he’s clearing his gruff throat, “…what the fuck?”

Your long-time friend watches from across the table as you nod your head, a satisfied sort of smile plastering across your face - the very same one you often bore whenever you beat Gojo on a test, or a quiz, or a group project. 

Or anything, really.

“That’s exactly it- I should fuck him.”

Yeah, he sets down the cup he was holding, he was definitely spiked. Or, maybe he was dead and this was his own personal hell.

“Ooookay, that’s enough all-nighters.” Geto’s plastering one of his ringed hands across your forehead, searching for a high temperature. “How about we get you to Shoko for some examination-”

“No no, listen.”

“I’m scared.”

Swatting away his well-meaning palms, you’re leaning towards him, so close that your lips waft the silver piercings decorating his ear. “If I fuck him—” Geto shivers, one of his ripped arms settling on top of the table in conspiring unison. “-he won’t have time to study. And if he doesn’t have time to study…”

The snake bites lining his rosy lips glint as they formulate a smirk, sleazy. “Oh, you dirty girl.”

DING-DING–!

And it’s as if the universe was having a good laugh at your expense. 

Because right at that very moment, the cute lil’ bell on top of the café doorway sings as it swings open - and with it, ducks inside Gojo Satoru. 

In all his refined, cranky glory - wiry-framed glasses nestled high on his nosebridge, strong, sweater-covered arms straining with the weight of damn near half the library stacked in a column, snowy bangs doing very little to hide the withering glare he was immediately firing your way.

The spitting image of the other valedictorian you’d been fighting both tooth and nail against since the start of freshman year. 

You remember how it all started like it was just yesterday; you’d been sitting eagerly at the very front row of Professor Gakuganji’s lecture hall. Your sheer buzzing energy only matched by the white-haired boy seated next to you - perhaps a kindred spirit, maybe you’d even become friends, you naively thought.

That is, until Gakuganji had asked for a volunteer to start off ice-breakers that the both of you had shot up in your seat. Racing to be first. 

Faces snapping to each other in shock, mouths tightening. An invisible war - which had, very famously, turned into a palpable war over the last few semesters. One that you’re sure nearly every student on campus had heard about (and bet on, you remember Shoko tittering about some betting pool.)

It didn’t help that you two had practically the same classes each year - and it really didn’t help that Gojo put all he had into one-upping you any time since that fateful meeting.  

Always clamoring out of his seat to answer questions first, always trailing after teachers if he caught you sucking up to them, too, always checking out the same books after you did.

Hell, at one point you’d been convinced that he genuinely lived in the library.

“You’re staring~” Geto sing-songs, resting his grinning face on one hand as he watches the bee-line of your eyesight. 

“Ugh- I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Flashing, cerulean eyes narrow as you rip your own gaze away, and Gojo’s sauntering over to a cosy seat near the back with an audible ‘hmpf!’ 

Bastard- that was your second-favorite seat. You should sit there next time…

“Look at him.” You’re spitting, feeling only slightly ridiculous at the raw vitriol in that sentence until Gojo physically turns around in his chair to flip you off. Haughtily, he swivels back to shift through his countless textbooks, surely studying for the upcoming final exam in a few days. “Bet he cuddles those books to sleep and that’s how he beat me today.”

Rays of sunlight dappling his pale hair, the straps of his backpack make his shoulder muscles ripple. For a nerd, he sure did take care to make everyone on campus secretly swoon.

…except for you, of course. 

Crossing your arms, you roll your eyes - more to tear them away from the way that Gojo’s glasses made his eyes twinkle in the daytime.

“Not for long. Mark my words, Suguru, I’ll fuck him-” Murmuring, you pointedly ignore the gawking looks from the customers surrounding your table. “-I’ll fuck his brains out.”

Eyelids twitching slightly, Geto makes sure to graciously bow his head in an apology towards the older lady seated at the beside you two - clutching her chest as if she was about to have a cardiac arrest. “And you realize that by fucking him…he fucks you, too?”

“Oh.” Honestly, for someone so smart you could be so stupid sometimes. You ignore the heat that runs through your veins at the notion, and stuff your face into your long-cold coffee. Sputtering, “I-It’ll be fine.”

Famous last words. 

.

.

.

“A-are you following me or just obsessed?”

“Nothing to be obsessed about here.”

“Then why are you following-”

“Maybe you’re following me, bast- I mean, Gojo.”

BANG!

And Gojo really should’ve been worried about ruining his squeaky-clean record with the campus librarian, slamming a few thickset books down on his usual studying spot was very unlike her model helper, of course. 

But right now he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

Not when you - campus princess, top pick for valedictorian, pain-in-his-ass - were face-to-face with him and standing the closest you ever had amidst that time you’d sat together on your first day. 

And calling him by his name.

Jaw clenched, he steps towards his familiar chair by the shadowed corner - and you do, too.

Long legs maneuvering to claim his seat - and you do, too, right next to him.

Pushing his glasses-clad face into the first textbook he picks up, he doesn’t even notice that it’s upside down - not until you’re tapping your finger on the gilded corner of it and Gojo flinches. “You’re reading that the wrong way, y’know?”

“…it’s a form of studying.”

“I’m sure.”

“And- and what are you doing? Miss valedictorian has given up on being valedictorian so she’s here to bother me?” He seethes, finally taking a good look at you since you’d randomly ambushed him on his daily trip to the library. Tracking him around like a lost puppy and oh- oh, Gojo almost regrets it.

Because he might wear glasses, but he wasn’t blind.

Fuck, did you really have to wear a cutesy top so low-cut? And a skirt so tight, he hated how your thighs were so pretty - ones he’d only seen in his imagination- nightmares. His nightmares, for sure. 

It’s no wonder that half the student body in your department would kill to be in this position, and the other half would kill him for daring to sit his gloomy, unpopular self next to you.

Gojo gulps as he inadvertently memorizes the lacy black shade of your bra strap, barely catching onto your humming response. 

“Studying.” You casually raise your own book, something related to the content covered on the test tomorrow, surely. 

“B-but- here-”

“And here I was under the impression that the library was public to all.” You’re cutting off his rambling by creeping an inch forwards. So close that you’re wafted with a cloud of his homey, ink n’ vanilla scent. Purring, “Is it not?”

“No! I know you- you just wanna steal my super secret Satoru studying tips.” He points at you, accusatorial. 

Scoffing- why did you want to subject yourself to this nonsense again? Oh, right, that coveted spot at the forefront of Yaga’s Dean’s List, that’s why. “‘Studying tips’ my ass, you’re just scared I’ll beat you on the exam tomorrow.”

“You couldn’t beat me if Yaga stripped naked and danced with the answers in front of you.”

“Hmm–” You pretend to take down notes, “So is that what you think about before a final?”

“N-no- even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Raising a brow, “Right…” And by the way that Gojo trembled at your tone of voice, shifting his glasses higher into his unruly bangs, you knew you had him in the palm of your hand. “Because you’re scared.”

“Am not.”

“Am too.”

“Am not-”

“Am too. It’s alright, scaredy-cat-” You’re making a big show of letting the library chair screeeech against the polished hardwood floors as you stand up, fingers itching for your bag. “-I’ll just take my leave then, since you’re so sca-”

“Sit.”

And it wasn’t a plea, it wasn’t even a request.

Gojo had his warm, engulfing palm surrounding your wrist and all but dragging you back to sit back down with an unceremonious plop! 

Hard and rough. 

Before you’d even registered it - before you’d finished blinking - in an instant, he was back to his normally grouchy self. Grimacing face darted back between his pages, hulking body hunched low as he washed himself of the memory of your (unfairly) pretty self seated right next to him. 

This was all a bad dream, he repeated to himself, as if a mantra. But then why was he feeling so…hot? Maybe this was one of those annoying side quests in video games- if he doesn’t interact, he won’t react. 

Yeah, that sounded about right. He just won’t interact.

He will not–

“Your pen’s too loud.”

“Your breathing’s too loud.” 

“So you want me to die-”

“Yes, please.” You’re sniping back on autopilot, your exceptionally silent pen scribbling along one of your flashcards. This really wasn’t how you saw your masterplan going - but it was too late to back out now. If there was anything that was revealed during this lengthy rivalry, it was that you weren’t a quitter. Huffing, “Do you always talk so much when you study?”

“Oh- I’m sorry, princess, want me to kiss your feet while I’m at it?”

“Didn’t think you were one for a foot fetish.”

“H-huh? No! What are you-” 

And that slight waver in his voice makes you pause- it makes you snap your head up, just in time to catch the scorching red blush breezing down the back of Gojo’s neck. Visibly peeking through the edge of his creamy vest even as he buries his face into his upside-down book. 

“Awww- what’s that?” Snickering, you take your chance to nudge your chair closer to his. Teasing. Until thighs met shaky thighs, shoulders bumped sculptured shoulders, and your syrupy breath made the tips of his ears flush. Voice low, “Can’t handle a lil’ sex talk, Satoru?”

Saying his first name- fuck!

He’s slamming his left arm where the heat of your sighs had burned his sensitive earlobe, grumpy baritone cracking– “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Are you a virgin?” You blink, your scheme giving way to genuine curiosity. 

The way that Gojo’s mouth gapes is more than enough of an answer to you. Glasses slipping down his clammy skin, meaty legs shivering as you experimentally brush your palm to feel the flex of his outer thigh. He was…chiseled. 

Blinking, “Really? Not even a handjob?”

And fuck- were you glad that he’d chosen a slightly distant corner of the library. 

Because your hands might be rovering sensually underneath the table, but the tightness in Gojo’s slacks was obvious. 

And it’s not that you spent a lot of time thinking about how big your mortal enemy might be underneath all his formal, upright outfits - but you just didn’t think he’d be this staggering. Perhaps average, at best. 

But one slight glimpse through your peripheral vision left your greedy mouth parting - he was long. So, so long from the end of his body to way past halfway down his thick thigh. 

And so massively girthy that you’re half-counting each jolting throb from the edges of your eyesight. 

Your mouth waters something slick at the primal heat radiating from between his legs. Trying your very hardest not to let your jaw drop as your pupils dare to snake down, down, down—

“Wanna change that?” The words spill out of your mouth before you can even think of stopping them- and Gojo looks ruined at the very idea.

Eyes glittering, cherry-pink lips falling into a soft oh! “Wh-what are you…”

You hesitate, this was Gojo after all. And you might feel your panties getting damper by the minute but he… Finger balling into a fist as you start to pull away, “Want me to stop-”

“Backing out, miss valedictorian?” 

Fuck- it happens like a flash of lightining. 

In a nanosecond you’re thinking you should pull away, and the next Gojo has his slender fingers gripping your wrist. Tugging your palm to creep right down the bulging cylindrical length twitching between his legs as if you were weightless. 

He was desperate. He was shifting, lurching his hips up off the rickety chair completely so that your soft fingers brush further down his fat, weeping clothed cock. 

An uncharacteristically dark drawl seeping into his voice, “Couldn’t score on the exam and now you can’t score- ngh.”

But, of course, this Gojo Satoru was all talk - his spit-glossed lips wobbling with a whimper the very moment you slip your hands to skim the hem of his pants. 

Pop. 

There goes one of his polished buttons, all sensible. Anything but the way that Gojo’s sexily slouching his toned body into the library desk, a heady gasp departing his lips. “Finish what you- hah! started.”

Pop. 

And you knew that those dexterous digits of his could easily wander down his complicated buttons- but right now Gojo was fumbling. 

He was gnawing on the bubblegum insides of his cheek and keening as he struggled to remove his trousers. 

Pop.

Pop! 

One of the silvery buttons end up clattering down on the wooden floors. Finally - finally - freeing his aching, bloated cock. 

And you’re not just seeing it first - you’re hearing it. The very crown of his reddened tip hitting halfway up his cotton vest with a wettened splat! Eyeing the darkening patch of cloth with a gulp.

Gojo’s long lashes flap— hissing at the strike of cold air where he was most sensitive. “Wh-who’s the scaredy-cat now?”

But how could you not be spellbound?

Mentally, you’re counting nine - maybe even near ten - entire inches of his thick, vein-covered shaft. 

The mushroomed edge of his cockhead blushing the prettiest shade of strawberry pink, and he was just as needily swollen. Spraying out a few glistening trails of pre that puddle up cutely near the curly tufts of white lining his v-line. He was just aching for your touch.

Ruining. 

Jolting like he was zapped with a thousand bolts of electricity the moment your thumb smears the pearly bubble of precum that’d started to leak out of him. Breathless, “Who’s a scaredy-cat?”

“You-hngh!” He’s gritting down on his lower lip as a groan erupts from his throat, teary eyelids wrenching shut at the blissful sensation.

Your hand was so soft- so heavenly. 

Just the slightest trace of your fingerpads gliding down Gojo’s puffy pink veins sends him heaving, the heated figure of his body leaning into your touch. “W-wait-” He spits out through snarling pearly whites as the length of your fingers squeezes the fattened base of his cock sensually. “Fuh-fuck! What the fuck- s-sexual pleasure. Shared sexual pleasure feels like this?”

Just lightly pumping up to press the mountains of your palm into his tender underside. Gojo was so rock-hard that your skin’s memorizing every zig-zagging line of his pulsing veins. “Hmm–?”

“This- how-” Azure eyes pleading up at you, “Hck! How-”

And you’re unsure whether he was babbling at the simplest drag of your hand or yearning for actual responses - but you never did leave a question unanswered. “Mmm– yeah? Like it, Satoru?”

“L-lov-” That little confession almost dribbles from his lips just from the way you’re cooing his first name. Ethereal ivory strands plastering to his forehead as he hastily shakes the thought free, voice breaking. In disbelief. 

He’s tugging his slightly-fogged glasses up his nosebridge, “How does it feel like this- why- fuuuuck– should be…illegal.”

You’re fighting back a moan yourself, the dainty ends of your fingernails fluttering all the way from his drenched happy trail up, up, up, up to kiss his coral-pink slit. 

Glittering a webbed wad of pre that drips down to your wrist as you’re caressing his sensitive outline. Just loooong, lazy traces that feel so good he’s sweating bullets from the sides of his temples. 

“The arteries on the dorsal- Don’t stop–”

“So bossy.”

Gojo finds himself jerking impatiently. He finds himself flinching when you choose that very moment to lean your puckered lips over and plant a wet smack! of spit right down his bulbous, bulging tip. Starting up a sultry pace, “Think I like you better when you’re hah- like this, Satoru.”

“Shut up- fuck- mmm, right there-”

With two palms white-knuckled on the chair’s armrests, he’s stooping his muddled head over and rutting- animalistically. Milking himself on every drag of your plush hands, “Please- please.”

Oh, you really liked it when he begged. 

And you’re pacing your hand even slower, squeezing the pointed globe of his ruby-red tip with a resounding squeeelch! “H-haaaah! There? There? I-if you touch me there…”

“Say that for me again- that ‘pretty please.’” When he can only lower his head deeper and wetly mumble- “Again- oh.”

You shouldn’t have underestimated him - you really shouldn’t have underestimated him. 

Because the moment your wrist strains with the warning signs of slowing your tempo even more- Gojo’s snaps his right hand to hold your hand still and thrusts. 

The weeping thickness of his cocktip mazes between your fingers like a searchlight, he’s fountaining out a warm ribbon of pre that froths down your hand once his long length emerges. 

“F-for the distal end of the glans, the primary source of sexual pleasure- your hand’s fucking h-heaven…oh.” He’s letting rip a guttural grunt, the muscles on his neck ticking. Half-lidded, drunken eyes circling around dizzily until they finally fall upon your shocked oh! face. “Too bad I c-can’t say the same for your mouth-”

“Hey!” 

And you would’ve said something further - you should’ve. You were trying to, yet that very moment Gojo fucks his slenderly toned hips up in such a hard thrust that it makes your pinky nearly bruise at the thwack! of his heavy balls hitting yours. 

He was so fucking hard that the spank of his sagged balls make your skin sting, oh-so-tight that it leaves him standing uprightly erect even when you’re cupping his hilt. 

“Nghhhh f-fuck. Yeah- yeahhh take it- take it just like that, princess.” Gojo’s voice drops into a carnal growl as he’s hooding his eyes over and staring right at where he was using your hand. The thickened digits of his fingers squeezing your own righter ‘round the gummy tip, looser to pound his base. “No one’s ever touched me like this.”

Your hands were so much smaller than his own - than his cock, too.

Damn near dwarfing your touch, he’s throbbing his girth so much fucking fatter that every jolt makes your own wrist shiver with intensity. Faster. 

A few speckles of syrupy drool dribbling down the side of his curling lips, “Should’ve told me if- haaah-” And just then, you’re fingering your thumb to tease the flared ridge of his mushroom crownhead. Making Gojo shudder his pecs and droop his face to mouth down your neck. 

Red hot. Your poor nerdy rival was blushing so hard that wherever he made contact with your throat made your flesh sizzle. “-if this was what you wanted s-so badly—”

“Fuck, Satoru-”

“You guys?!” 

The sudden interruption of an upbeat voice is so abrupt that Gojo can’t do anything less incriminating than pushin’ his moaning, twisting face further into the crook of your neck. Hips subtly shifting on the chair to hide your sinfulness from view, it makes the pads of your fingers snag on one of Gojo’s prominent lightning bolted veins- and leaves him biting down on your throat to muddle a whimper. 

“H-Haibara?” Your voice breaks once you’re lifting your head to stare up at the beaming smile of your fellow classmate. “What umm– brings you here?”

Innocently oblivious to the mess Gojo was drooling from the orifice at his cock as your pace gets sloppier. Faster. You’re coughing lightly to mask the repeated fwop! emanating when the back of your fisted hand hits the front of his toned pelvis. 

“Same as you, of course.” Your audience replies, enunciating his point with a nod towards the papers and textbooks scattered about you two. Clapping his hands, “How wonderful it is to see the two of you studying together- I always did tell Kento you two would end up friends.”

And of course it wasn’t abnormal for Gojo Satoru to ignore anyone and everyone except his books. 

Of course it wasn’t strange- but Haibara sweetly asks, anyway. Tone dripping in concern, “Is he alright, though?”

Gojo’s bucking up to your touch when he’s addressed, one that he’s masking as a flinch. Using that as lewd leverage to squeeze and squeeze the delicate line of his tip, up n’ down. 

Forcing out a slight chuckle, “O-oh, he’s alright. Just resting.” Pointedly pumping your wrist until it was aching, all the way from the bloated bottom of his cock to thumb up his dripping crownhead that Gojo has to mask with shivers. Sneakily, you chance a grope of your free hand to tenderly squeeze his achy balls. “He can’t keep up with my…flashcards, y’know how it is.”

Haibara nods, “Right of course, of course- it’s so sweet how supportive the two of you are with each other’s studies.”

And underneath his panting, cloudy breath, you’re making out Gojo scoffing. The frigid rim of his glasses cratering against the pulse on the side of your neck as he throb-throb-throbs in your hand. 

Twitching. Slobbering. Rutting- everything he could possibly do to milk his fat, swollen cock on your hands without anyone else here noticing. Punishingly, he sinks his honed canines into your skin— “C-cum- gonna–”

Urgently, your cadence turns nearly frantic. Furious, tugging pulls that leave the mahogany chair creaking with slight rickets. 

“Y-yeah– Satoru- deserves it. He’s been working so hard.” You breathe, unsure who it was for. 

But it makes the man melting at your touch hiss— the candy-pink divot homed right on the top of his barreling length so hot with slippery cobwebs of pre. Drooling out more. Jolting even more. Glasses sliding down. 

Your classmate only grins, “Awww–” Taking the slightest step closer and your warm hand tightens in panic. “You two would make the cutest couple!”

And that’s just about when Gojo cums–

Hot, hard. 

So, so heavy with the sheer volume of buttery, sappy white cum he was spilling into your lap. You fight to keep your smile from widening at the way his heated pink shaft drizzles with streaming streaks of seed that stains the skin of your outer thighs.

Gojo lets out a soft gasp of breath once he’s twitching his lusty cock to slap down on your flesh and chase the heat of your cunt. 

Right where he feels himself slip n’ slide across the slick outer sheen dampening from your core— right where he needed to fuck you. Just the darkened edge of his dilated pupil peeks out from the crook of your neck to stare at your audience dead-on. In front of him, if he had to.

And you could sense it, too.

Which is why you’re hastily waving off Haibara’s comment– “Ahh– well, it’s too soon for that.”

“You never know~” Casually scratching the back of his neck, not a thing was amiss in the way that Haibara’s perking up. “I should leave you two to it, then. And I have to tell Kento about this new development and I haven’t studied and-”

You don’t dare let your sigh of relief escape until after he’d walked away with an eager wave. 

Gojo himself was letting go of the area he’d been gnawing on your neck with a soppy pwah! Unsteadily lifting his head just to inch forwards and teeter-

Oh, he looked absolutely fucked-out. 

All heavily-lidded eyes that blinked slowly, and a mouth now shiny with a fresh coating of transparent spittle. Spectacles askew, hair rumpled, collar hauled to the side as if he was undressing himself. 

Greedy slobber bubbles up by the side of his flushed lips and trickles when he catches sight of your hands still wrapped around his softening cock. 

Not looking ‘round you two - not even caring if anyone sees, he’s gently lifting your dominant wrist over to hover near his gulping maw. “Made me make s-such a mess, princess.”

Your fingers trembly at the sheer scorching gusts of his humid breath, Gojo bores right into your eyes as he unfastens his jaw and lets his pinkish tongue liiiiick right up your cream-coated fingers. And the only thing hotter than his ropes of seed were the slimy edges of his tongue. 

Weaving between your pinky, takin’ extra care on your ring finger. 

Each and every one. One by one, he’s sapping down wet slurps with his mouth as he sucks on each glob of white decorating your digits like his favorite lollies. 

“W-we’re–” Gojo starts, his glittering lips still speckled with a bead of frosting. Of cum as he cleans you off. Dry Adam’s apple bobbing, “We’re never– hah.” Before strangling his words with a pained grunt and salivating the ridges of his tastebuds down your fingers in a final French kiss. 

Then another. And another. And another- like he couldn’t fucking get enough. 

And it viscerally ached him somewhere deeply primal inside to curl his rugged palm around your wrist and wrench himself away with a moistened pop! that resonates like music in the empty library air. 

Mouth curling as he pushes up his glasses for the nth time, “We’re never studying together again.”

Speechless, it’s just then that you’re noticing that- oh. Gojo Satoru has dimples. 

.

.

.

Gojo Satoru failed that test.

He totally, totally failed that test. 

Which wouldn’t have been as completely soul-crushing to watch his streak of constant A++ grades be torn down before his very eyes had that final actually been difficult. But Yaga had, mercifully, decided to go easy on them this time - and Gojo should have been able to ace this exam in his sleep.

Which was quite difficult for him to pull off such a feat when he found himself unable to think about anything but you.

Well, given, that wasn’t exactly an outlandish state-of-mind for him. 

Though, usually it’s more along the lines of how ridiculous it was that you thought you’d top Yaga’s Dean’s List instead of him, how your essay wasn’t even that great (okay, maybe it was- but his was better!), or wondering whether it was part of your strategy to look so gorgeous that you distract the entire department into failing.

But today - even right now - all he could wonder about was how ah, question number five- you’d wrapped all five of your pretty lil’ fingers around his cock. 

How soft they were, how perfect they looked pumping his painfully hard girth and fuck- soon enough he was blessed with a half-chubbed dick tightening his pants, and a muddled brain that’d already started writing his answer about you, your damn hands, and you. 

Fuck, he could feel his skin flaring at the mere memory again. 

“Goddammit-” He’s grinding the backs of his molars until he’s tasting metal, staring at the empty lined paper that would usually have been filled and stapled to the backs of his final. “Goddammit.”

And then Gojo stands- so abruptly that several blissfully ignorant students recoil at the sudden movement from their stoic classmate. Papers flying, usual backpack left behind. 

It’s as if a storm, the steps leading him the row or two further up the lecture hall groan and protest at Gojo’s stomping. Closer to where you were - with your face in your hands, and your expression harrowed as if you’d just seen a ghost. 

“You.” He’s starting, rumbling voice low. 

You wince at the sound, as if only just noticing the man towering up to you. Settling your widened eyes off of your…curiously blank sheets of extra paper, only to stare up at Gojo and grimace again. “You.”

And any and all irritation regarding the little predicament you’d put him in vanishes as he realizes. 

You failed that test, too.

SLAM!

Two roughened hands of his strike down on your table to lean in so close, the rows surrounding you two hushing so quiet that you could hear every single one of Gojo’s ragged breaths. Close. 

So, so close. 

You’re counting every single white lash of his, every spike of pale blue in his sapphire irises, every glint in his snarl. So close that your nose tingles with the perfume of that familiar sultry vanilla. 

He watches, expressionless, as your thighs squeeze together beneath you. Shit. 

“Y-you.” Gojo’s voice was rough, as hoarse as if he was trying to keep something deep and dark out of it. “Tonight. My dorm.” Risking a glance around the nosy rest of the hall, his face burns at the unsuccessful way they were pretending not to be listening. “For…studying.”

A wolf whistle rings through the tense air— “Get a room!”

“They’re about to~”

“I knew this would happen.”

“Please keep talking to a minimum, some students are taking extra time on the test.” Yaga’s bored drone shatters the mirth - only to heighten it by twofold just as soon as Gojo feels the slightest hint of relief. “Please keep flirting to a minimum, too.”

And then he turns back to you and you wink.

Oh. 

Oh, fuck.

.

.

.

“Oh-ohhh mm, Gojo–” Your head throws back against the carpet of Gojo’s stifling bedroom, your lips gluing together with strands of spit as soon as he kisses your inner thigh and salivates. Mouth churning with wads of spit ready to devour you-

“Satoru.”

“Wh-what?” It takes you every ounce of strength in your sprawled-out body to question in response. 

Head lurching just the slightest few degrees to gaze upon the way he was stuffed nose-deep between your legs - glasses, cocky grin and all. 

Gojo takes the lecherous time to perk his flared nostrils over and sniiiiff–! the aroma of your wetness, his overeager maw spilling a thin trail of spittle at the saccharine-sweet scent of your dripping pussy. “Call me- hah! Satoru.”

Shit- how did you even get here?

Skirt and blouse off, needy.

It’s as if one second you’re explaining (quite ashamedly, mind you) how your plan had backfired and you’d bombed that test, sputtering as Gojo rolls his eyes knowingly. And the next…

Spank! You don’t have to look down to already feel the twisted curl of Gojo’s smirk against your thighs, one of his hands soothing across where he’d oh-so-rudely spanked the right of your ass cheek. 

“Zoning out already? Your Bartholin gland is working overtime to lubricate.” He hums, the frigid metal frames leaving your hips squirming. Tilting his head, “You’re wet.”

“Y-you wish-” You’re huffing and puffing despite the way you’re smearing your legs even more widely agape with primal need. Just begging him for something, anything, with each squelching wave of slick pouring from between your pussylips. 

Gojo leaves one kiss near your cute belly button, another on the hemline of your clingy panties. 

Mwah, mwah– soft, puckered lips trace allll over except where you were aching for him the most. He’s snickering at through a hot gasp once the sharp edges of his teeth snag on the forefront of your underwear and let it snap! back.

“Think you’re soooo fuckin’ smart, huh?”  Gojo spits, furiously. “Always so intelligent- so smug.” Dragging the crescent nubs of his fingernails down the sides of your body– 

Tearing down your panties, flopping through the crevice of your folds to give you just a singular push of his miry tongue. Just a singular kiss, a singular snog of his flattened muscle slapping down on your entrance. “Let’s see how s-smart you really are, then, miss valedictorian.”

And despite the way he’s running his mouth, his tongue sings a different tune. Just like jelly- shyly wobbling on the puffy outside of your pussylips and lapping up gulp after gulp of your sap. 

He was parched- and couldn’t help but tickle your cunt like a man thirsting for years. Thirsting for years, and yet, he couldn’t help the way he’s slouching back slightly on his knees with a burning blush–

“Y-you’re only saying that because-” He jolts at the sudden rut of your hips, sending a slobbering stroooke straightly down your slit. “-because you can’t handle anything else.”

Gojo quirks a cloudy brow, “Anything…oh.”

And though it pained a carnal part of you to - though your pussy was quivering in protest - you find your arm reaching out to grab the prim collar of Gojo’s white sweater and traaawl him all the way up. “Wan’ you in my hah- mouth, Satoru.”

“Ngh–” He’s nibbling his plush bottom lip to bite back a fucking whine– and the moment that slight smirk starts twitching your lips, Gojo scoops your legs up in a surprisingly strong hold. 

Big, beefy arms lifting you in midair and throwing you down on the bed. You yelp as you bounce- he’s careless, desperate, the only thing he needs right now is to have you on his bed. On his mouth-

“Th-think I can’t handle a b-blow- fellatio, huh?” 

He’s grumbling as he lays himself flatly on the cushy mattress, letting those navy sheets be rumpled once he’s sitting back sexily. And you’re almost wishing you could turn yourself around and ogle that handsome vision settling right between your legs. 

“Oh- oh.” Gojo mouths gapes as he really - really takes in the sight of you. All sopping wet and needy for him. Shuddering steadily in and out to regain his breath in some way, “Oh my god- fuck, what a prettyyy pussy.”

“H-hnghh, fuck–” Your mouth drops once large palms spread-spread-spreeead your cheeks apart and let your dewdropped slick drip! down into his throat. 

Shivering, every time his claggy breath stroked your pried-open entrance. Leaving a wide, hot open-mouthed kiss right where Gojo could spy your glistening hole winking. 

You were just a three-course meal sitting above him. And he was ready to crane his neck and diiive–

ZIIIIIIP–!

“Shit- princess, what are you- fuck!”

Your grin grows when you stagger off Gojo’s plaid pants and let his reddened, swollen cock hit your chin with a plap! “Whaaat–?” 

He was standing tall, proud. 

Soooo many swollen, throbbing inches standing up rock-hard n’ straight just from the mere idea of having your saccharine pussy on his mouth.

Thighs trembling where you were straddling his head, fuck, if Gojo was in any better state of mind he’d have registered the way your syrupy pussy grows wetter. “Scared?”

He blushes- he keens, mindlessly bucking his hips to chase the heat of your mouth. “N-no. It’s a perfectly normal reaction to sexual stimulation-”

“You talk too much.”

“Then…”

You’re whimpering, your spine bowing into the perfect curvature once Gojo claws a firm handful of your ass and pulls you to him to kiss your pretty pussy. “Get up here.” Letting the thickened air ring with the smack of his glossy lips gluing to your outer folds, “Get up- get up here so that I can fucking show you, miss valedictorian.”

And he might have absolutely zero experience - but that didn’t mean that Gojo wasn’t hungry. 

He’s not waiting around for you to tease him to death with your sweet, puckered lips. No- he’s tugging you down his lengthy body and latching ‘round the nub of your clit first. 

“She- she’s the clit, huh?”

“Sh-shit…oh my ngh- Satoru!”

Tittering, “Course she is- located at the top of the vulva and responsible f-for connecting the network of erectile tissue. And she has you alll stupid.”

Your treacly cunt was giving him the cutest lil’ welcome by pouring a wave of sticky slick right down his chin, he’s sliding the wetness against the innards of your squeezing thighs and pushing himself nose-deep.

Glasses cluttering, vein-decorated forearms flexing. “How’s that–?” Endlessly listing off the three-hundred different ways to toy with your sensitive clit, he’s swervin’ the glazed point of his tongue in cute hearts. Groaning into your pussy, “Mmmm– your turn- o-oh fuck!”

And you weren’t just teasing him, you were simply waiting for the perfect moment to plop your saturated mouth in a clammy smooch over Gojo’s round, smooth cockhead.

Lapping the narrowed margin of your tongue to rim that split-end on his tip, your tastebuds scorch with the warm cream of his pre. Buttering up your flat muscles as you jerk your head and draaaag a long, languid lick. “What’s that?”

Letting out the cutest pitched ‘fuck!’, Gojo bucks his hips to plunge between your hot maw with a wet fwop! 

Hissing, “I was mistaken, your mouth is heaven.” 

Gulping him deeper-

“Haaaah- wait.” It’s like he’s easing and then back- too much for his sensitive, inexperienced cock. “Stimulating my c-cock with a tongue so good. Now that’s- that’s just fucking- unfair-” 

Spanking your cunt with a splatter of wadded saliva before teething his canines along your clit and pinching. Groaning right into that mess, “Unfair- th-that’s unfair- fuck! Shit, how do you make everything feel so good- You always do hafta ch-cheat, huh?”

He has to battle with himself not to cum right then and there. 

But he wasn’t going down without a fight.

You’re just starting to lavish your silky tongue over the sensitive veins snaking along his meaty base, chin tickling with curly white hairs- when Gojo wraps an arm around your waist and pulls—

“Wh-who’s cheating now?”

“And who do ya think you are?” Gojo pleads- he strains. Your body being slightly bumped up n’ down like a rollercoaster after each heave of his broad pectorals. 

And just playing with your clit wasn’t enough, he needed to use his inhuman strength to make you rest your entire weight. “Just- sit–” Throat hatching with lilting groans once your mouth is sliiiding sensually down his pink shaft. Gojo’s speaking between French kisses to your cunt, grunting like it hurt him to break off. 

And even though he’s practically still closed, you swear you could count every one of his eight, ladder-like abs.

“But I could ngh- suffocate-”

Rutting- deep back into your mouth till his bawling mushroom tip swabs the very back of your throat. “So? Then it’ll be my ngh- first and last time. Respiration is overrated, just- fucking- sit.”

Yelping, it’s all you can do to claw your nails down each of Gojo’s thick, milky thighs once he grabs onto your body and slams you down on his readily awaiting mouth. 

“Fuck- fuck!” Eyes widened, tone crazed. He doesn’t know where to look when he’s slobbering his heated mouth in dragging licks up and down between your puffed-up folds, occasionally peeking inside your fluttering hole and giving your ring of muscle a sloooow stretched-out circle. 

Gojo slaps the velvety underside of his tongue down on your sensitive entrance and watches as your syrupy slick pooours. “Don’t know how long I-I’ve dreamt of this, princess-”

“Y-you have?”

Though, it comes out gurgled and half-moaned around the fattened circumference of Gojo’s pulsating, long cock. He was just so big that you’d barely even slid his heavy shaft down halfway until he’s probing your throat thoroughly. 

Fattened balls tightened once he speaks, “You- have- nooooo fucking idea-” Punctuated with heavy, slashing strokes of his tongue. 

You’re damn near sobbing at the sheer surprisingly strength of his - the pleasure. Gojo was technical in his approach, a snagging lil’ circle to make your hole stretch cutely- before gifting himself a looong lick from the base of your pussy right up to your clit. 

“Every time before a test- e-every time after. Ngh- every time someone would l-look at you in those pretty skirts and- fuuuuck! wanted to fuck that damn mouth shut every time you’d insult me. Every time- made you wanna scream.”

Swiping his simmering tastebuds down with circles. Hearts. Something that felt like an S–

“Tha’s right- goood girl, you got that one right.” He’s piping up from between your dampened inner thighs. Fucking you with his tongue just the way his weighty cock was bawling and begging to fuck you.

And it takes you one more sweltering kiss, two more until you’re lifting your mouth back off of Gojo’s fat cock in realization- did you just say that out loud? 

“Mhmm—” Gojo answers, voice breaking with a slight whine at the loss of heat. Promptly, you’re pushing your hips back to ride his mouth shut and gawking at the way it makes his shaft twitch wildly. Like a madman, he’s rutting up to capture your sweet, sweet lips once more- 

“Th-think I like it better when you- ngh-” You somehow manage to get out through sappy wet bobs of your mouth, every squelch! drawn out by the suction of your hollowed lips deafening in his cozy bedroom. You start to feverishly pump the solid inches of his you couldn’t fit inside, holding onto one side of his muscular glutes for balance. “-when you shut up.”

“N’ you’re better when you have- my-” It was even worse with every buzzzzing vibration of his voice tingling your clit. The bed rickets in unison with your whines as he drills up into your slickened mouth maddeningly, plummy tip scouring your inner cheeks. “-biiig fucking cock in y-your mouth.”

And then Gojo wasn’t just making out with your cunt till he’s pussydrunk- he’s slithering one of his slender, pale fingers until it’s all glazed with a satiny layer of sap and caressing your entrance. 

Tenderly, he slips just the thick first pad of it past the tight muscle before you’re clenching- being dragged even further up his face. 

“C’mon- c’mon c’mon c’mon please-” Pushing and pushing, he couldn’t handle the singlest bit of resistance unless he wanted to tear up. 

The size of his digit is just so looong and nimble enough that Gojo finds himself in awe at the way your snug hole opens up to swallow him eagerly. Crying out bulbous tears of sap, you’re just arching your back and taking every one thrust. Two. Three. Four–

Swatting your clit with the pointed fringe of his chin, he’s flopping his tongue over in a textured pattern on top of your perky clit. One that makes you gasp— “A? A?”

“Mhmm—” Teething your swollen folds at the grooving tickle of his prominent middle veins on the roof of your mouth, the way you’re announcing everything he spells is just so hot that Gojo bucks until you choke. “Next-”

Struggling, flowing so much damper at the muscles of his front. God- he was sooo fucking fit. Using every ounce to push– “Mmpf- ngh-” Mouth so full that your cheeks bulge, “J?”

“What’s that? Wha’s that?” Gojo almost throws his head back into the bedsprings and chuckles. “Miss vale-hah! valedictorian can’t even spell-” Toying the mushy tip of his tongue over your clit again, “What’s that?”

“T- please. Not gonna last-”

“Mmmm–” He’s so close now that you could feel the cold press of his glasses, all drenched at this point. Even more so when Gojo adds in a third finger and lets it just graze the splotchy area of your g-spot.

“Sa-toru, your glasses-”

He didn’t even care. He didn’t even need them at this point. 

“Use the momentum of your hips. Move. Ride.” 

In three different ways. Riding him exactly how he wanted you to in languid, slobbering drags and he’s never been more in heaven. The nubs of your hardened nipples rubbin’ all sensitive through your bra where Gojo manhandles you to glissade down his tensed core. 

His throbbing shaft twitching and striking the roof of your mouth, he’s getting fervent. Burning hot. “Aww- pretty princess is all dumb. What’s- that?”

His tongue’s so dexterous that even your hazed mind can make out each syllable, each letter. Faster. Harder. “O- ngh! S’an O-” Trembling palms cupping his balls, “R- M’so fucking close.”

And you could already guess the next looping drag of his tongue. The precise syllable on your tongue once you’re throwing your head back and shattering– “U- You- fuck! Satoru–!” You didn’t even have to try to open your mouth and let the wadded ribbon of saliva dangle off from it. 

Striking Gojo’s veiny shaft and making him buck-

“That’s it- nghhh- c’mon, princess, scream my name.”

“Saaa–toru. C-cummin- ngh.” You don’t even have the privilege of finishing your damn sentence before he’s plopping in four of his prolonged fingers and making your wave of euphoria burst. 

So hard that your vision dots with pure white. You’re leaking from both your maw and your fluttering eyelids now, “P-please.” Mouth flooded with so many whimpers and torrents of slobber. You’re so far thrust into your blissful high that you don’t even realize you’ve stuck the first few inches of Gojo’s spit-glazed cock inside your watered mouth. 

“Yeah- yeahhh what do ya want?”

“C-cum.”

“Hmm–?”

Shoveling right inside like your favorite pinkish ice cream once you’re peeking over your shoulder and mumbling– “C-cum, Toru–”

And there it was - that did it.

You, saying his first name. Like that.

The only thing more it takes before creeps his sweaty palm over the crown of your skull and pushes- straight down. Straight full of his lengthy, rummaging fat cock, until your nose nuzzles the slight fuzz of silky white at the base. 

Eyes sprinting to the back of your head, your throat gets all clogged-up with his throbbing inches before he fills it up even further.

Oh, oh- you never thought you could ever be so damn full. 

It’s as if he’s torn apart your throat and was probin’ the curve of his bulging mushroom tip right into the base of your lungs. Flooding it up with sploshing wires of stringy cum, pumping and pumping each ribbon until it’d formulated a buttery frosting everywhere he could reach.

“O-ohhh fuck- nghhhh fuck-” Bottomed-out, yet pushing down even further. “Y-you…”

With a splattering bubble of drool that trickles from the rosy corner of his lips- Gojo couldn’t even clearly see from his tear-shattered vision, and yet, he was staring dead-on at your relaxed throat. 

Mindlessly, the sensory tip of his index traces that bulging cylindrical outline being fucked against the underside of your neck. Dooown all nine inches. Gojo jostles your weakened knees apart and lets his overspilling cock dab the corners and crevices of your hot mouth.

The bloated, flaring ridge of his slit moving it all over. Breathlessly giggling, “You really- really t-took it ngh- all…you- oh.” Heavy, pink balls tightening as if he could cum again- “How’s that, little miss valedictorian?”

You swallowed.

“S’that…all you got?”

And he couldn’t get enough.

It was just too adorable how your snarky mouth was hoarse n’ all spellbound by the time Gojo slides his veined cock a few more vulgar times down your tongue and pulls out with a plop!

“Ngh- T-Toru-”

“Shiiit- don’t call me that- fuuuck don’t call me- oh.” He couldn’t even speak. The polished frames of his glasses nearly dangling off, Gojo manhandles your boneless body around to sit prettily on his manspread lap. 

To admire you properly.

And all it takes is that singular glimpse of you. 

That clouded vision of you above him - your eyes glassy with a film of lust, mouth sopping wet with milky wads of seed that drip! drip! drip! down between his toned pecs. 

Your fucked-out hips glissading back down the uprightly laid length of his girth - over every vein, every ridge - with a whine-

And the man damn near loses it.

He’s whining, bucking- his feet planting up to gyrate his hot cock against your skin like he was aching for more. “Need it.” You’re almost startled as two of Gojo’s palms latch onto your hips and make you push, “Please- I mean- fuck.” Shit, he couldn’t stop himself from babbling pussdrunkenly. 

That carnal urge pulsing from his bulging tip to push deeply inside you.

You’re feeling Gojo swell up even fatter - even harder - behind the cheeks of your ass and find yourself pushing back with a greedy pap! of skin-on-skin. “Don’t tell me…”

“Shut up.” Kissing you, he tastes salted caramel and nearly cums again.

Lecherous grin growing even wider, you break off. “Awww—” Your previous dazed state slowly fading with the last few tingles of your orgasm, “Wittle Toru’s first time?”

“Shut up.”

He’s straining his neck and snapping his jaw with a click! Honed canines threatening the fragile skin of your nipples, you’re pushing back on his feverish flesh. 

Gojo looked so pretty like this that you just couldn’t help it - all stinging, red cheeks, and your pussy slicking a gooey lustre that plasters from his dripping chin all the way to damn near the tips of his ears. 

Puddling. 

“No need to worry.” You shove on his blushing collarbones with a whimper, his cock was so hard that it hurt. “I’ll be ngh- gentle, Satoru, so oh- fuck!”

But Gojo Satoru didn’t wait this long to be fucking gentle. 

No- just like the way he’s longed to whenever you always got so close, so fiery shutting him up during arguments - Gojo thrusts the big, bulging tip of his cock between your swollen folds and pushes. 

His first. 

Finding his muscular thighs trembling, mouth parting, pupils rolling until all you could see was the pure white of his eyes. Something dark and primal breaks at the back of his ravaged throat, “O-oh.” And he’s gasping with the effort to compose himself- to say something snarky. 

But all Gojo can do is hold onto the girthy base of his shaft and let it drip with a glaze of syrupy pre. Mouth opening n’ closing, breath catching. 

“Wait- you’re so-” Bucking his hips just the slightest inch off the dampened sheets and letting it slide pointedly along your walls. “-y-you’re so soft- and warm. And ngh- nghhh fuck! Th-this is what the adventitia- what your pretty pussy feels like?”

Watery eyes widening once you nod, “Th-then m’neeever pulling out. Your lamina propria’s gonna mold to my cock, miss valedictorian.” 

Cooing, he hastily tugs off his cottony sweater, fumbling once the syrupy pool of slick you’d leaked all over his neckline makes it stick to his skin like an adhesive. And oh- fuck.

You’d felt every line and shapely curve of Gojo’s chiseled abs down your front. Hell, you could still feel the way your tummy was aching with the stinging ridges of him pressed up against you- and yet, it still doesn’t prepare you for just how sexily toned your smug rival was. 

All naturally muscular edges of his broad shoulders, and his ivory happy trail was wobbling with the bumps of his abs. All flexing. All tense. 

All heated against your naked thighs as he grips your ass cheeks and pushes you down, down, down–

“Ngh…oh– Toru!”

“S-soooo sweet.” Voice hitching, he’s squinting his eyes cutely in pleasure at that silken, soft hug of your walls. You’re shaping around his thickly barreling length so tight that he’s roughly handling you to lift up and down- up and down. Deeper. “So ngh- so much better than that…PocketPussy3000 I named after ya, princess.”

And you would be snarking back- teasing him, had it not been for the way that Gojo was so fucking big that he made your mind stupidly dizzy. 

“B-big?” Gojo croaks out from underneath you- oh, shit, you’d said that out loud. Again. “Am I…” Drifting his glassy eyes downwards to watch where your puffy pussylips were bulging whilst struggling to take him. “-really that big?”

Biting down on the insides of your cheek as you lie, “N-no.”

Experimentally, Gojo gives another feral rut. Watching as your pretty eyes nearly bulge out of your head, your maw falling ajar into a perfect ‘o’. 

He’s fucking up into you with his massive cock and barely even trying to dig the smooth, left-leaning curve of his achy girth into your every nook and cranny. Veins bloated up so wide that they carve a zig-zagged pattern against your tight channel after every ba-dump–!

Gojo really was that big. 

“H-heh.” Octaves higher, wild. He’s chuckling as if he still couldn’t even believe it when Gojo’s right hand creeps up the side of your hips to press down on your tummy. 

“Mmm– hck! If you’re gonna press there, Satoru-”

“Why? S’a biiig stretch for the poor stratified squamous epithelium isn’t it?” Feeling himself with the edges of his ravenous, long digits as he sliiiides in- rocking n’ rocking upwards against your snug resistance. Speaking over the creaky bedcoils, “Say it- tell me.”

Arms rested upon his flexing deltoids, you throw your head back after each solid inch he was blowing your cunt up with. Until it felt like your walls were being snagged on to the maximum, “B-big-”

“Nuh uh, princess- biiiig stretch. Say it w’me now-”

“Big- ngh!” You’re fighting against Gojo’s sloppy cadence from behind you to roll your hips back onto his trembling thighs. Deeper. Deeper. “Biiig stretch–”

“That’s right—” Oh, you’ve never been more irresistible to him. And Gojo’s palm massages the bumpin’ bulge being pounded against your tummy, until you can feel every crease of his palm lines. It makes his filthy mouth salivate to feel the stretch inside as you keep swallowing his cock deeper. “Again now- nghhh- biiig stretch.”

“Biiiig stretch- oh, fuck!”

Just about the only thing you can do is spit out a string of swears when Gojo bottoms out and hits the base of your pussy with a sharp spank! 

Tendrils of white rubbin’ your outer pussy raw, the circumference of his length bullying inside to stretch your hole into such a cute oh! The exact same shape that your mouth was turning into right now, “Please- fuck mmm–”

Squelches! ring out after every springy bounce you plant on Gojo’s length, your calves burning with the sheer effort it takes to smooch your puckered ring over his tip and slide, slide, slide all the way down to his hilt. 

Breathing out in a pant, “Oh, you’ve taken all of me- all of me? Seriously- fuck!” Gojo lets his inexperienced hips drive all the way upwards in carnal, uncontrolled ruts. “Tha’s just right- fuh-fuck back t’me like that mmm-”

“Getting hck! really cocky–” You’re biting, your overworked pussy quivering as you clench. “-Toru.”

And oh, that makes him shatter. 

Hips mindless, head flopping backwards, mouth opening with the prettiest, more pornographic whine. You’d just made the Gojo Satoru whine with your pussy.

His drunken gaze only half-opening to stare at you through dilated eyes, glasses completely fogged-up and useless now that you’re roughly riding him. Smart mouth babbling, “D-don’t think you’re- winning–”

It was a competition even now. 

Like a race to who could get the other to break first, he’s matching your papping cadence and even more. And through the tears clung to your lashes, you’re spying the way that Gojo’s v-line was swollen n’ red with slamming contact. 

Your hand glissading down his sweat-glistening skin to trace his sensitive abs, “Oh yeah? And you think- hck-” Another sluuurping clench, another topple of his head. His sanity. “-y-you’re winning?”

“Still haven’t found the mmm– Gräfenberg spot yet, princess.” He’s smirking, one hand rested upon your right ass cheek to keep on stirrin’ his rummaging length in swivels inside of you. The other thumbing over your neglected clit in the meantime, muttering. “Anterior wall under the urethra…roughly hnghhh– this many inches deep and part of the sensitive clitoral network…”

His split-ending, bawling cocktip probes your glossy walls like a spotlight. Your g-spot being the bullseye that he’s targeting dead on. Grinning. 

“-here.”

Precisely, you feel the heat of his prominent spherical cockhead drive up n’ down the entire length of that sensitive bundle of nerves. Digging the curve of his shaft generously into where you saw stars-

“Who’s winning hck! what now?”

Sloppily kissing him, just to quieten the man down. “Oh- sh-shut up.”

“Hm…” Gojo’s accurate whack! of his girth against your g-spot lets off the loudest, most lecherous squeeeelch. And he’s proddin’ his sensitive slit against your cervix just to feel it, “Can you shut up when I fuck you like- this-”

You can’t. 

Mewling, your knees hit halt and wedge the swollen n’ aching nub of your clit against his supple palm. Letting his skin streak a good rub over where your core was painfully needy, “Y-you grew bigger.”

“Hmmm–?”

You’re riding him craaaazy with your hips, pussy walls clinging onto his slick cock so tightly that you’re rendered weak with every vein. Every throb. Every growth of his shaft pounding even fatter until you could barely even clench-

Bigger. Harder. Tongue slathering with a glaze of syrupy spit, “B-big– got ngh! bigger.”

“What’s that? What’s thaaaat?” His pummeling dick scouring down your walls, erupting in a proud splosh of rich precum at that cute lil’ compliment. “Bigger? Heh- my princess ngh likes, big- don’tcha?”

At this point you’re driven wild, your dewy pupils circlin’ around the insides of your eye comically. Mouth hanging open with stupid little ‘oh’s’ and ‘yesses.’

Gojo narrows his eyes once you start blubbering, bashing his tip extra hard into your g-spot so that he could have you fully dumb on his cock. “Mmm– c’mon, miss valedictorian.” Lips twitching, “Use your big girl words.”

“Hngh- hard-”

“Yeahhh– m’pretty fucking- hard- huh?”

“Harder.”

Oh- it’s a wonder he didn’t cum right then- shit, Gojo thinks he almost is. 

A thin, ropey string of hot seed that hits your womb the moment he’s flattening his feet on the cushion of the bed to thrash a mean thwack! onto your spongy cervix. 

Digging his geysering divot so deep against the bottom of your glutinous cunt that he grits his teeth and plugs his weepy crown shut. 

Trying not to cum- praying not to cum, “Harder? Harder?” Repeated in such a high, unsteady pitch. His dazed eyes peeking over his glasses and widening, “My girl wants it harder?”

Nodding, “Please, Toru– m’soooo close.”

“Then- greedy fucking- girl- better- take it.” And he wasn’t just pummeling your poor pussy, he was pummeling it like a madman. You could practically see the rippling of his muscular body, sheer power that was being channeled into each thrust. 

Each strike. Each damp smooch with your g-spot. 

You didn’t even realize you were clawing at his shoulders in an attempt to crawl away until his left hand pushes down on your sweat-matted scalp. 

Holding your face still, Gojo watches every cute minute reaction of yours as he goes hard. Then slow. Then sloppy. Alternating his pace until you’re sure you’ve memorized the patterns of his hammering veins on each side. “N’ that means nghh- nooo running away.”

“No runnin’-” Babbling through tears, every strike makes your brain spin. “Not gonna last- nghh fuck…not gonna last, Toru.”

“Swallowing my cock so much- S’this what you wanted after every hah- argument? Every time you yelled? Filthy giiirl, shoulda just asked.”

And Gojo was murmuring such filth into your ear that you can’t help but shrill– “Let me cum- ngh- let me cum-”

“Tch- demanding.”

“Please-”

“Better…how about ‘pretty pl–’ oh fuck.” 

Before he can revel in his victory, before he can tease you any further - you’re reaching one of your jittery hands behind your back and palming at Gojo’s tight, aching ballsack. Tracing your sultry touch just where he was red n’ raw with the slamming impact of your ass.

Hips speeding up, creaking getting louder. 

“Oh hah- haaaa–” Gojo tosses his head back and bucks- bucks and bucks and bucks as if he was trying to milk your orgasm sooner. Rovering thumb pressing down on your clit like his favorite button, “Cheater, cheater~”

You didn’t know who was off worse - you who was drooling out a sappy puddle after every repeated three slams of his cock each passing second. Letting your droopy body be manhandled into bouncing in a S-A-T-O-R-U that you’re not even sure Gojo realizes he’s making you spell out. 

Didn’t even register. Didn’t even know. 

Or Gojo who was trembling with every squeeze of your gushing walls, frantically letting his glasses slide off even further so that he wasn’t hypnotized and on the verge of losing just by watching you ride him dry.

You’re too hot to handle. 

A perk that you’re immediately abusing as you push his glasses cleanly back onto his nosebridge n’ smudge away the misted fog. 

“Ngh f-fuck–” Chin hitting your sweaty chest once he’s manoeuvering you into a wiiiide O to muddle together the letters of his name. Claiming your pretty pussy. Claiming him. “-fuck you, Satoru.”

Gojo leans in closer with puckered lips, close enough to kiss. “I’m fucking you, princess.” To shut you up while sucking on your tongue while it hits. 

And Gojo’s so caught up in every movement of your body that he doesn’t even realize he’s finishing off in such a wet, voluminous way until it’s dripping out of you. Mouth parting, “O-oh…”

Your own orgasm takes over your body like a wave, being suddenly hit with strikes of white-hot pleasure that send goosebumps trailing down your spine. Every push of Gojo’s slick shaft feels so good that it makes your vision flash white, whimpering each time his slimy mushroom tip was kissin’ your sweetest spots. 

“Cumming–” You’re calling out belatedly, hips creaming yourself on his. “I’m– oh.”

“H-heh.” And Gojo was actually giggling- giggling. Faintly noting the hot-headed mess that was his brain right now, he could only flutter his long lashes at each spike of pleasure and stare. 

Ogling the way your puffy pussylips were gulping after every streak of his cum, the creamy white mess pouring out into you until your womb felt heavy. 

Over and over he’s thrusting inside, making- almost forcing his cock to pour out every drop. Every ounce until it was dry.

Showered, sloppy wads of seed plastered across your hole, you could feel the pearly mess dangling out of you each time your cunt hit his pelvis. Formulating a ring of syrupy cum that made Gojo just swallow past his parched throat, “I win.”

“No.” You’re huffing. Stubborn, even as you’re sagging down until your face was cushioned by his pecs, perking your hips to milk out his last few dredges until Gojo was cumming dry. “I win-”

Dry- you’d made him cum dry.

Humping upwards so that oodles of sap would slip down your cervix and make you shudder. Both your popped ears buzzing with the splat! of cobwebbed cum that glues down your thighs. “Nuh uh, princess. I totally won that.”

“Hngh- yuh uh.”

“Nuh-”

And maybe you were the least drunken of the two, because you’re the only one with enough murky sense right now to put an end to the endless argument. 

Shutting Gojo Satoru up for once in his life by reaching your hand over to dig underneath his navy pillow - searching for that glint of something you’re sure you’d caught in your lustful haze moments prior. 

He can only lay beneath you and blush and blush once you pull out…that.

The PocketPussy3000 he’d named after you– the very same one he’d fuck up into night after long, lonely night thinking about his damn “rival.” 

Fuck…he should’ve known the valedictorian wouldn’t forget. 

“Named after me, huh? Cute.”

Indignantly pushing up his frames, “Wh-what is the meaning of this-”

“Let’s consider it a tie.” You croon, in that exact tone he knew was dangerous. And his brainy suspicions are proven correct when, the very next moment, you’re pulling yourself off of him with a dampened pop! 

Letting a stream of ivory creamy swoosh down below to sheen his pale thighs - Gojo has never looked prettier, you think.

“Oh- oh my god…ngh- oh my god, princess.”

The apples of his cheeks scorching, mouth gaping, tired n’ thoroughly overstimulated pink cock flinching when you hover that rubbery toy over. Letting off a sopping slurp as you start to bully his reddened tip between the folds and jerk him off– “Round two?”

.

.

.

“It can’t be-”

“So that last time seriously wasn’t about studying?”

“You owe me five thousand yen.”

And you swear you’re catching about half the class and Yaga himself exchanges betting pools of money the very moment you and Gojo enter the lecture hall. Together. Hand-in-hand.

Fuck- was your rivalry really that infamous? 

Because Gojo’s fingers weave even tighter with yours as you pass by countless stares, numerous cellphones out to take paparazzi shots of the markings on your neck that you’re sure will end up on some sort of campus bulletin board by the end of the hour. 

Ah, maybe you should’ve done one of those ‘soft-launches’ first…

Too late for that, you think, seated at your usual spot on one of the first few rows and wearily watches as Yaga happily counts the spoils of his bet. 

Sneaking a glance at your gloomy boyfriend, you try not to snicker- not only did he receive a stupendous second placement on the last exam, tied with you, it’s as if every single person here blatantly couldn’t tear their eyes off of his hunched, blushing figure. 

Nervously pushing his glasses up to his bangs– “Maybe we should ah…‘cut class’ as they call it, princess-”

“So-” There’s a slamming weight of a strong forearm on your shoulder, ringed fingers possessive - and another one on Gojo’s - that could only mean one person. “Unless my milkshake was spiked again, I take it that the scheme- I mean, study session went well? Even though I did get first place on our last final.” 

Before you can answer, Geto’s husky voice heats up your ear, low. Dangerous. “Y’know, I hear this next assignment’s a…group project.”

A/N. Hehehe I MISSED Nerdjo so I just had to…

Plagiarism not authorized.

[rustedmoose]

My great curse is that I often have a hard time getting into something unless its About Something or it has uninterrogated politics I can rub my hands around in like a baby with paint (and it SHOULD be hard to have uninterrogated politics that make it enough for me to latch on, but wow stuff can really be hollow)

[mooningningg]

notes, such a fun request to make

★ Roommate!Sukuna when his friend hits on you.

You don’t even get the front door closed before Sukuna’s voice rings out:

“Why the fuck is Gojo in my kitchen?”

Gojo, standing by the fridge with his sunglasses on indoors (as usual), flashes a grin and waves a juice box.

“She let me in,” he says cheerfully. “You should lock your doors, by the way.”

Sukuna walks into the living room shirtless, towel draped around his neck, looking every bit the pissed-off guard dog someone just kicked out of his nap.

“She let you in?” he repeats, eyes cutting toward you. “The hell you let Gojo in for?”

You raise your brows. “Because he knocked?”

“Fucking let stray animals in next time, too, while you’re at it.”

Gojo slurps from the juice box loudly.

“Don’t be mad, Sukuna,” he purrs. “I was just saying hi to your adorable roommate.”

Sukuna freezes.

You blink.

“...Hi,” you say slowly.

Gojo leans a hip against the counter and slides off his sunglasses — like he’s in a damn K-drama commercial.

“You look cute today,” he says.

You blink again. “I’m wearing socks with sandals.”

��Bold fashion choice. I like it.”

Sukuna’s face goes dead blank.

Gojo smiles wider. “Sukuna didn’t tell me you were this pretty. Thought he was hiding you for a reason.”

“I am,” Sukuna snaps. “I am hiding her for a reason. She’s not a fucking zoo exhibit, Satoru.”

Gojo ignores him completely, gaze still on you. “You know, if you ever get tired of this grumpy ass—”

“Satoru.”

“—you should come hang out at my place. I’ve got wine. A couch. Mood lighting.”

Sukuna storms into the kitchen and physically wedges himself between you and Gojo.

“Try that line again, and I’ll wedge this fucking juice box up your ass,” he growls.

Gojo laughs. “Down, boy.”

You, meanwhile, are trying not to choke on your own saliva. “Sukuna—”

“And you,” Sukuna turns on you, furious. “Stop fucking smiling like this is funny. This dumbass is not flirting with you in my house.”

Gojo leans down toward you with a dramatic sigh. “Is he always this jealous?”

You open your mouth to answer.

Sukuna slaps his hand over it.

“Say one word,” he mutters, “and I swear I’ll call the IRS on you. You forgot to file taxes last year, didn’t you?”

Gojo gasps. “That was ONE TIME—!”

“OUT.”

Gojo tries to protest but Sukuna is already shoving him toward the door, juice box still in hand.

“Text me later,” Gojo calls over his shoulder.

Sukuna slams the door behind him and turns back to you.

He’s breathing hard. His jaw is clenched. He looks ready to commit several minor felonies.

You blink up at him.

“...He thinks I’m pretty.”

“I know you’re pretty. But that’s not the fuckin’ point.”

“Jealous?”

He scoffs. “Over that discount scarecrow? Please.”

Then he grabs your phone off the coffee table and types something in.

“What are you doing?”

“Blocking Gojo.”

You raise a brow. “You know I can unblock him, right?”

He doesn’t answer. Just tosses the phone to the couch and stalks toward the fridge.

You smirk.

“Oh, Sukuna?”

He pauses, halfway opening the fridge. Doesn’t turn.

You say sweetly, “Next time, maybe invite me to your little ego tantrum. I wanna see Gojo flirt again.”

The door slams.

“Over my dead fuckin’ body.”

Taglist, @humeysaga @williamafton26 @aranisbaee @probablynotleahhhh @probablynotleahhhh. @beaniesayshi @levifiance @rinofcike @fushiguroooozzz @gojoscumslut @bellsoftheball @kunascutie.

[oreo-creampies]

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮’𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: stoner!tattooed!pierced!geto, shotgunning, pussy/cock-drunk, squirting, heavy praise/encouragement, struggle to ride suguru’s fat cock, friends with benefits, squirting, kissing, groping, begging, some cock sucking, daddy/mama/princess, suguru is lovesick, size kink

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @unknownspecies; stoner geto !!!

fey: I needs this! I needs it!

Admiring you Suguru’s kissable lips stretch into a lazy, cocky smirk. Tracing the inky dark lines of his large chest piece. “Wanna suck your handsome, thick, veiny cock, I’m soakin’ lookin’ at you handsome.” Lovingly gazing into his warm, hungry dark chocolate eyes. The white of his eyes is pink.

Feeling up his hard abs, tracing each line, biting your lip when they deepen. “I’ve been watching your heavy cock sway when you walk. And your ass,” groaning, Suguru quickly kisses you, blowing thick smoke into your mouth.

Slipping his tongue into your mouth, you're following his lead without a thought. Whining into the kiss, enticing a deep groan. Leaning back, staring down at you, “Beautiful mama ya want me that badly?” Blowing out the bitter smoke.

You wonder how the simple act of pushing his long hair out out of his beautiful face could be so sexy? Suguru’s thick arm subtly flexes. The muscles of his biceps ripples beneath his pale inked-up skin. You're figuring out an answer.

Everything about Suguru Geto is too damn beautiful.

Your slick trickles down your thighs. “Need ya Daddy, fuck it’s not fair how handsome you are, how big your cock is, even when soft. Or how bubbly your thick ass is. You’re too much Daddy, so beautiful n’ sweet with me.” Kneeling in front of him, grabbing half hard thick cock. Sucking his fat head, swirling your tongue around him, feeling the thick, soft ridge of him.

Suguru ertoic groans goes to your pussy. "Mmm fuck me…what isn't fair is how hot your lips 'round my cock looks." Bobbing your head, taking him in smooth deep, quick strokes. Smearing the spit along the rest of him with a swirl of your fist. "Fuck that’s it." When he curses like that your cunt clenches.

Smoke escapes as his jaw drops. His eyes roll back, thighs tremble, abs clenching. "Nnnn expecting me not to cum quickly when you’re suckin' on me like that isn't fair." You fondle his large balls, warm in your palm.

He confesses, "Been thinkin' 'bout ya too, woke up from a wet dream I had 'bout ya." Sliding him out with a pop, kissing along a puffy vein, feeling it pulsing beneath your lips. "I had your sexy ass riding my fat cock." Licking Suguru taking him deep into your mouth with a smooth stroke. Gagging on him, your cunt clenching around nothing.

He groans, "Please mama, lemme feel your sloppy pretty cunt. Been dreamin' of your soft lips wrappin' 'round me. Of how hot and wet you get for me." Standing up, he moves further back onto his bed, snuffing out his blunt. You slip off his baggy shirt you've stolen from his closet, throwing it close to his laundry bin.

Climbing onto the bed, straddling his hips, encouraging Suguru, "Please? You wanna beg a little more for me?" Straddling his hips, slipping your fingers into your dripping, hot cunt. Soaking your fingers, holding them close to his lips.

He warns, "If I beg then you're doing all the work, I'm not helpin'." Licking your fingers clean, his tongue's bar dragging along you.

Grabbing his heavy cock, holding it upright swiping him between your lips. Lining him up, then waiting. With your fingers stuffed in his mouth. You free the rest of his long hair. Damn Suguru is gorgeous.

Suguru groans, "Always tastin' so fuckin' good." Grabbing your hip, licking his thumb, stroking your clit. "I'll have to cum on your beautiful tits. Imma eat your sloppy overstimulated cunt after you're done using my cock like a dildo." Rubbing your puffy clit faster, clenching his tip.

Whining, "That's not begging! I wanna hear you beggin' for me daddy, I always do for you!" He glides his large hand up your side, cupping your breast, and rubbing your soft nipple. His cocky smirk makes you hornier.

Thoughts of sitting on his face and ignoring his beautiful cock crosses your mind.

Suguru sounds so needy pleading, "Use my fat cock to take care of your beautiful dripping wet, hot tight cunt. Wanna see her take me, feel her stretch n' clench, hear you moan while my beautiful cunt squelches from how wet you are." Pushing your hips down, sinking just the tip in, clenching him tightly. He's too big, moaning as he stretches out your cunt.

Sliding your fingers through his soft hair, “Unless you want me to just bounce on your tip. I could play with my clit till I cum.” Slowly bouncing on his thick tip, getting off on feeling it stretch you out. Stopping when the soft ridge of his head slips it. Clenching your cunt when it tugs on your cunt as you gently glide him out.

Suguru's pleads "Princess nnnn please fuck let me feel ya more, you're so tight, hot! Need ya to ride me, wanna feel ya cum, see your sexy face when you do." Keeping him upright wishing he would slam you down on his cock.

You whine rocking your hips struggling to take more of his fat cock into your tight cunt. Sliding your hand out of his hair, dragging your hand along his broad shoulder. Squeezing his thick pec, biting him creating a bright red mark.

Suguru begs, "Please mama ya can take more than just the tip," moaning, partly smirking at you, "or am I too big to fit?" Digging your nails in close to his sensitive v-line, he groans his hips jerking up reflexively. Crying, pausing, the pleasure from him stroking your clit easing the aching of your cunt taking him so suddenly.

He croons, "You're ok princess Daddy got ya. I’m gonna make sure ya feel good." Steadily playing with your clit, keeping his hips still. "Take ya time princess getting used to how big I am, we got all day." Rocking your hips slowly, barely taking half of Suguru.

Letting Suguru go, placing your hand on his hard abs. "I love how full you get me." He slides his hand over your breast, wrapping his hand lightly around your neck. Pulling you in close, shy of a kiss.

"I fuckin' love hearing you whine, feelin' you clench," softly kissing you, "seein' ya tremblin'. You're so beautiful mama, nnng wanna be your's." Another veiny inch, clenching his waist. Getting off on the softness of his skin contrasting how hard rock hard cock.

Suguru passionately kisses you, slipping his tongue past your lips. Rubbing your tongue along the metal bar. Rocking your hips faster, getting used to how wide he stretches you. Swirling your hips, he whines, rubbing your clit faster.

Breaking away groaning, "Love dreamin' about you, and wakin' up to you, making ya breakfast hearing your praise on how good it tastes." Gliding his hand down your chest, along your waist and over your hip.

Cupping your ass with both hands. You lie on top of him, bouncing on as much of his cock as you can fit into your sloppy wet cunt. He can't stop. "Fuck I miss ya when you sleep at your own place. You should sleep with me more, nnnn wanna wake up holdin' ya close." Covering Suguru's face in gentle, loving kissing, steadily rocking your hips.

"I'll stay whenever you like, how long you like, eatin' up your food, letting you be small or big spoon, smokin' up your bud." Feeling up his chest, your hands wandering from the sculpted curve of his sides to his thick pecs, and hard pecs.

Kissing his lips gentle, he deepens the kiss, groaning. Slipping his tongue past your lips, it’s needy, rough and passionate. You don’t pull away till your lungs are aching for air.

Steadying his breathing, suggesting, "We can have our first date tonight, I’ll cook us dinner, roll us a fat blunt, cover you in kisses and cuddling close. You can pick the movies." Leaning back for him to watch his veiny, thick cock vanishing into your tight, dripping cunt. “I’ll make whatever you want, gonna take care of you make ya feel loved and safe.”

Gliding more of him in, he grabs the headboard, his knuckles turning white. Your cunt fluttering from his deep groan. Your pride swelling from getting Suguru drunk off your cunt. "Need to cum ‘n ya so badly! Wanna fuck ya senseless but seeing ya struggle with my cock is so fuckin' hot.” His abs momentarily flexing.

Getting off on how big and muscular he is, trembling and whining underneath you from your cunt. Spasming around him, you’re so close to cumming. Stroking your clit faster, your pace staggering before steadying out.

He moans, “Nng you've almost gotten all of me, keep going, you can take me princess.” You’re gushing in his cock, thick cum trickling down his cock. Rocking your hips back, taking him fully, he croons, “That’s it, ‘m so proud of ya sweetheart.” Sitting on his cock, your slick trickling down his balls, some splashing onto his abs.

“My cock feels good!" You can’t think straight, lost in the intense peak. Unable to move your legs, he’s throbbing inside you, thick veins pulsing. His head kissing your cervix, he’s so deep. And despite cumming you want more.

Feebly lifting your hips, Suguru helps you, firmly grabbing your waist. Lifting you till his fat cockhead is the only part of him split your sloppy, sensitive cunt open. "Is this your cock? Am I your’s?”

oreo’s m.list

[starrbishops]

⟡Guilty As Sin⟡

(John Walker x Reader)

Summary: You hate how attracted you are to Walker, and you pull away from him because of it. He notices. - ao3 version

Word Count: 3.8k

Notes: Post-Thunderbolts, reader is a New Avenger and is mentioned to have some kind of super abilites (not plot relevant but it's there), porn with some plot, just reader being horny and then getting to fuck this man, car sex!!!! p in v, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks) reader and John both bully each other during sex, John Walker's praise kink (when will it not make an appearance) Bucky and Bob appearance!

a/n: This one goes out to all my homies who hated John in TFATWS and feel conflicted about finding him really hot in Thunderbolts! I guess he's my boy now bc I was literally the second post on the Walker x Reader tag (????tf????) so here I am once again being horny on main with y'all.

Teasing Walker was practically a team bonding activity. Hell, even the man himself had grown used to it, took it as a show of affection from the other New Avengers. You were one of the main perpetrators of it. John had always pissed you off, from the minute you met in the vault. He’d grown on you significantly since then, although you’d never admit that, especially not to him.

You’d also never admit how down bad you were for him.

You weren’t really sure when it had started. He was an attractive guy, from an objective standpoint. They’d picked him to be Captain America for a reason, and one of those was that he looked damn good. Still, beyond the awareness he was handsome you’d never really thought of him in that way.

That is, until that day. You couldn’t find one of your knives, and you were sure Bucky had stolen it, so you’d ventured down to the training room to confront him. You opened the door, ready to start interrogating him when you were met with the sight of him and John, side by side, doing pull ups in the doorway to the equipment room. Bob stood next to them, counting off as they went. 

You’ve known Bucky for a long time. He’s like an older brother figure to you, someone you couldn’t see romantically if you tried. Seeing him shirtless has no effect on you, other than an instinctual ew. You’ve never seen John shirtless before.

And here you are, speechless, gawking at the guy who you once referred to as ‘Captain Crashout’. His biceps flexed with each lift, the muscle sinewy but hard-earned, gleaming with sweat. Broad shoulders, dabbled with old scars and freckles from too long in the sun. Your eyes fell to his abs, not as clean cut as Bob’s, but still very much there, pulled taut as he raised himself over and over. He was clad in a pair of old gym shorts, which had fallen a little lower than they started out, revealing the beginnings of a sharp v-line, and what you thought was just a smattering of blond hair trailing down.

And the sounds. John has always had a tic of snorting during battle. You call it his gorilla call that he makes when shit gets serious. The way he grunted as he pulled himself up, exerted but determined, gave you goosebumps the more you heard it.

Jesus fucking Christ, when did John get so hot?

He’s a supersoldier, of course. You know he’s strong. You interact with him almost everyday. You’ve seen him carry a crate the size of Yelena with ease. Yet somehow you’d never considered him hot before this. Never once have you looked at John Walker and felt this hot and sweaty all of a sudden, something in your stomach twisting with equal parts nerves and arousal.

You think you’re going insane.

After what feels like an eternity, John dropped, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Fine, you win Barnes.”

Bucky dropped as well, a smug look on his face. “Told you.”

“Hey, well you’re shorter than me, you have less to pull up.”

“By what, 3 inches?”

“3 inches where it counts.” Walker joked. Shit, now you’re thinking about this dick. Don’t look at his crotch. Do not look at his crotch-

“When’d you get here?” you snapped out of it at the sound of Bob’s voice, turning your attention to the other man. 

“Um, around 20?” you guessed, doing your best to keep your eyes off Walker. You blinked hard as you turned to Bucky. “Did you take my Bowie knife?”

He sighed as he toweled himself off. “Shit, yeah. It’s in my bag, I’ll get it.”

“Asshole.”

He just flipped you off as he walked off to the locker room. Bob trails behind him, announcing his need to pee, leaving you alone with Walker. 

You did your best to avoid eye contact, or any visual of him as he lowered himself onto the nearby bench ,grabbing his water bottle. You knew he has a habit of manspreading, which you often tease him about, but now it’s more annoying in that you’re trying desperately not to ogle him.

“Pretty good, huh?”

“What?” you blinked, looking over at his confused face.

“60 pull ups. Maybe not as good as Barnes,” he threw a jilted look at the locker room door, “but still, impressive, huh?”

“Yeah, I uh, guess so.” you stared at the space above his head, arms crossed, praying Bucky finds his damn bag and brings you your knife soon.

“You okay?” John questioned, standing up to approach you. You instinctually took a step back, causing him to stop. “Did I do something?’

“No! No, I’m fine, you didn’t do anything. Just feeling a little off today, maybe I’m getting sick.”

John nodded, unconvinced. “Uh huh.” He took another sip of his water, drawing your eyes to his strong forearms, solid and firm, leading to his large hands gripping the bottle. Were his hands always that big? It’s ridiculous. You wonder what they would feel like gripping your hips.

“Got it.” Thankfully, Bucky reentered, holding out your knife. You swiftly snatched it, stuttering out a thank you and goodbye before you practically ran out the door. John and Bucky just stood there, confused.

After that, you ran to your room, locked the door and screamed into a pillow like a middle school girl.

You know there’s nothing wrong with liking Walker. Sure, he’s real fucked up, but hell, you are too. You’re both trying to be better, all of you on the team are. Your present torment is self-inflicted, part of it being the sheer embarrassment. You can’t seem to let go of your ego, the little voice in your brain bullying you for wanting a man who carries around a shield shaped like a taco.

You’re being ridiculous. 

You’re held back by a fear of screwing things up with him yourself, and therefore for the entire team. You don’t want to ruin what you all have. You’ve all had hard pasts, never really having a group of people that you could rely on till now. You wouldn’t destroy that because you were so, so very horny for one of your teammates.

So you distance yourself. You try not to look him in the eye, lest you start imagining him with his shirt off again. You feel like an old Victorian man who forced ladies to hide their ankles; looking at any part of John makes you feel like you’re going to lose it then burst into flames. Once you went to ask him something and saw him in just a towel, and immediately turned heel and left. He plagues your mind, beyond just the thought of sex. The thought of him, holding you in his arms, whispering into your ear, smiling down at you. 

You do manage to forget how badly you want to fuck him when all of a sudden he’s hurling himself into danger, in front of a hail of bullets that his stupid shield barely covers.

“What the hell were you thinking?” you lecture him as the two of you climb back into the van. You’d been tasked with securing classified S.H.I.E.L.D files from a criminal organization planning to sell them. You’d managed to get them back, but not without a few scrapes and bruises. Honestly, you’re lucky neither of you died because of John’s recklessness, something you’ve told him multiple times now.

“I was thinking of what was best to keep us both safe.” he grumbles as he slams the driver’s door, turning the key in the ignition. “It was a tactical decision-”

“It was a tactical decision,” you mimic his deep voice. “You could’ve died! You’re lucky-”

“Lucky to be alive, I know, I know. What do you even care?” you turn to him, seeing the anger in his eyes, mixed with something else you can’t place.

“Why do I care? Because you’re my fucking friend, John, and I’d rather not see you filled with lead!” “Well, it doesn’t seem that way lately.” he scoffs, eyes moving back to the road.

“What did you say?”

“I’m saying, you’ve been acting crazy lately.” he slams a hand on the wheel. “One day, we’re friends, the next you act like I’m the dirt on your shoe. I-I don’t understand. What did I ever do to you?” he leans back in his seat, defeated. “You’re acting like you don’t care whether I live or die, so fine, if I die, what’s it to you?”

“John,” you sigh, trying to hold it together. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” he sits back up, angrier, more offended than upset. “I’m the one who’s being ridiculous? You’re the one being ridiculous! All this time-” 

He rambles on, leaving your anger at him to simmer in your chest. It mixes with guilt, of being cold to him, not telling him why. He somehow manages to look handsome like this, passionate, full of emotion. Still, you feel your stomach twist knowing you did this, that you hurt him like this. “John, look, I’m-”

“No, I’m not done!” he interrupts. He continues to rant, getting into specifics of your treatment, your apology dying in your throat. What would you even say? I’m sorry I was mean to you, it’s because you’re too fucking attractive and I don’t know how to handle it? 

You forget about all the reasons not to do this. You forget how annoying and brash he can be, all the embarrassing things he does you tease him for. You forget how screwed up you both are, about the team, about everything.

You just lean over the console, grab his face and smash your mouth to his.

He’s quiet, finally, still in shock of what is happening. The second his brain catches up to his body he’s gripping your shoulders, kissing you back with a force. It quickly turns open and messy, tongues desperate for each other as you act on months of frustration and feelings repressed.

You pull back when you run out of air, sliding back into your own seat as he does his. You sit, quiet, thinking about what you’ve done.

“Is that why?” His voice is hoarse from kissing.

You nod. “Yeah. That’s why.”

You’re both quiet again, reeling from your actions. He slowly unbuckles his seatbelt, climbs out of the car. You wonder if you’ve done something wrong, if maybe you misread him.

Then he’s opening your door, and before you can say anything he’s kissing you again, large hands cupping your face in them as he presses his lips to yours, hungry and needy.

He pulls away too quickly, looking at you with a ferocity in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “Do you want this?” he asks, voice low and warning.

“Yes.” you nod. “John I’ve wanted you so bad for-”

You’re both throwing yourselves into each other, not even bothering to finish talking. John’s wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. You yelp as you quickly wrap your legs around him, clinging to him for dear life, still not breaking the kiss.

He kicks the car door shut and presses you up against it, tongue slithering along your bottom lip, asking permission. You give it, sliding your won against him, deepening the kiss. You feel a moan emanate from your throat as you do, feeling like you’re absorbing John into your very being.

He shifts one hand to holding you up as he fiddles with the backseat door, yanking at it unsuccessfully. He finally pulls back, much to your dismay, to pull the damn thing open properly.

“There you go.” you joke.

“Shut up.” he mutters, before pulling you back from the side of the car and gently carrying you into it, laying you on along the backseat.

“Take your clothes off.” he huffs, fiddling with his own as he climbs in, stripping himself of his weapons. You do the same, pulling off piece after piece of tactical gear. 

There’s kevlar everywhere, bulletproof vests thrown haphazardly in the trunk, knives discarded in the front seat. Somehow in a lust-induced craze, the two of you still manage to have some form of organization.

You’ve barely pulled off your shirt before you peer over at Walker, face turned red from exertion, cheat heaving with heavy breaths.

And god, you love looking at his chest. Your eyes meet his, flitting back down in silent communication. Without a word, he nods and you’re on his, straddling him as your hands run along his broad shoulders, teeth nipping at his neck before you kiss the small bites.

He groans, head falling to the crook of your neck as he takes you in, hands gripping your hips like you’ll vanish he doesn’t.

“God, so fucking pretty.” he mumbles, grabbing your chin to pull you back in for anther kiss. One hand trails down towards your arching core, tugging at your waistband. You quickly move to help pull them down, you and John struggling together until finally, the dreaded things are gone. 

He doesn’t bother dealing with your underwear, just pushing your panties aside as he brings a finger to your soaked cunt, you gasping at the sensation of his touch.

“So fuckin’ wet, too, shit.” He trails his digit alon you till he reaches your clit, flicking it, eliciting another sharp gasp from you. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

He brings two fingers to your hole, running them against your folds, coating them in your arousal as you groan. “Fucking hell, John, please.”

“You’re even mean when you’re horny.” he chuckles, you glaring down at him in return as you lower one hand to the bulge in his pants, squeezing it to a sharp inhale from John.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” you palm at his crotch as he tries to form some kind of words. Finally, he gives up, instead pushing his fingers into you, at last granting you the friction you’ve longed for. It’s so much better than those nights you’ve laid along in your bed, picturing him above you as you pleasured yourself on your own fingers. His are thick and calloused, and feel fucking incredible as you pushes in and out of you with ease, eyes never leaving your face.

“God you’re gorgeous,” he mumbles out, “so fuckin’ tight just on my fingers. Wanted this forever…”

“Please, John, need you too-”

“Gotta cum on my fingers before you can cum on my dick, baby.” you clench around him at the pet name, John smirking at the feeling as he quickly adds a third finger. Your nails dig into his bare shoulders as he moves within you, your head thrown back and eyes shut in pleasure,

“Look at me baby.” you obey, opening your eyes to see John’s flushed countenance, blue eyes dark and wide as you drink you in. “Go on, cum for me.”

He scissors his fingers within you, and with a cry, you do. You thank God you’re parked in the middle of some forest in the middle of nowhere as you moan, riding the wave of ecstasy. John doesn’t stop, keeping his pace till you start to come down, taking deep breaths as you loosen your grip.

“You cut me.” you blink, John nodding to his shoulder. You see the places where your nails have left crescent marks, breaking the skin. 

“Oops.” you shrug, still out of breath from your orgasm. “Something to remember me by?”

John purses his lip. “Only fair I get to leave a little something for you.” he turns his attention to your collarbone, kissing and sucking a bruise into it as he circles his thumb on your clit, making you yearn for more even after one orgasm.

“John, please, for fuck’s sake…” you mumble incoherently. Your brain is wired to tease him and even his fingers inside of you will not change that.

He lifts his head, looking down at the bruise he’s left with pride. “Something to remember me by.”

“You are such a teenager.” you sigh, hand reaching down to undo his belt. 

“You’re the one begging me to fuck you.” he grins. His hands meet you there, tugging the leather off and tossing it away as he yanks his tactical pants down just far enough to free his cock.

You can’t help it, you gape it at. He’s thick, and long, a vein running along the underside where you can clearly see. It curves slightly up against his stomach, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. If you weren’t on top of him, you’d lean down and lick it off.

“Shit, do we need a-”

“You’re good. Can’t get pregnant.” you’re already lifting your hips, trying to position yourself over him.

“See, begging.” he teases as he lines up with cock with your cunt, tip rubbing along your folds. “You ready?” he asks earnestly, looking up at you with genuine concern,

You nod. “Walker, if you don’t hurry up and fuck me I swear-”

With that, he pushes into you, silencing you with a moan as you feel yourself stretch around his cock. He’s not too painfully big, the kind of sharp pinch that makes the feeling just that much more sinful.

He groans, head rolling back as he clutches your waist. You’re sure if you looked down you’d see his knuckles turned white.

“Jesus Christ, this fuckin’ perfect pussy,” he mumvles incoherently as he pushes deeper into you. “SO fuckin tight for me, baby.”

Then finally, he sheathes himself fully, with a downright pornographic moan escaping your throat at the sensation, John gives you a moment to adjust, the two of you sitting in silence, save for your shared panting and occasional groans.

You’ve never felt so full, stuffed to the brim with JOhn’s cock, feeling the head just kiss your cervix within you. You breathe deep as you adjust, feeling every part of him, every ridge, vein, curve of his cock.

“God, John, so big…” you trail off as your brain shuts down, thoughts of anything else besides the man in front of you and his dick inside you fading away into static.

“Taking it so good.” he brushes a fallen piece of hair out of your face, a gentle gesture compared to his usually annoying countenance. “So pretty when you’re full of me.”

You nod sharply, your brain still fuzzy with lust and pleasure. You lift your hips, his cock rubbing against your walls before you slide back down, moaning as you do.

You pick up the pace, riding him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, because it’s all you’ve wanted for fucking weeks and he feels so fucking good. 

John sucks another bruise into you, this one on your neck, groaning out incoherent expletives as you bounce in his lap, moaning loudly with ecstasy.

Still, you’re exhausted from your mission and your previous orgasm, your pace beginning to falter. Your eyes meet John’s, and without a word he wraps his arms around you, rolling the two of you onto the seat, you on your back with him above you.

You rake your nails over his back, leaving even more scratches as you writhe beneath him. That gentle moment from earlier feels long-gone; John is rough with you, each thrust pounds into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as you wrap your legs around his waist, trying to pull him in deeper, as deep as he can possibly get. His mussed blond hair frames his face as he fucks into you, his expression concentrated and determined. 

“Feels fuckin’ perfect, perfcct fuckin’ girl beensth me, God I’ve wanted you so bad, so perfect and good.”

“Wanted you too.” you manage to pat out, looking up into John's eyes. “So handsome, John, you’re so good.”

Oh, he liked that. He moans outright, loudly, his thrusts managing to become even harder. You give a raspy moan in reply. 

“Like when I tell you how good you are?” you pant out as you give him a dastardly smile, to which he just grunts in response, “So fuckin’ good, John, love your cock, let you fuck me forever.”

You’re a little cockdrunk, or a lot, head spinning as you clench around him, John pressing his mouth against yours in a bruising kiss. Maybe to shut you up, maybe because he wanted to, who knows. You just know you can feel the pressure building in your stomach, another orgasm on the verge of breaking loose within you.

“John,” you move a hand to his face, running through his beard, gripping the fine hairs as you seek something, anything to hold onto. “Gonna cum, ‘m close.”

“Go on, baby.” he grunts, thrusts growing faster and more erratic, his cock barely leaving you before slamming back in. “Cum all over my cock.”

You grip his shoulders, crying out his name as you cum again, seeing stars as you feel the white-hot waves of pleasure crashing over you. John follows shortly, sheathing himself deep inside you, where you can feel the heat of him cum painting your walls. 

He gives a few weak thrusts, as if he’s trying to fuck his cum further into you. You just groan, eyes squeezed shut, body still feeling like it’s on fire. 

When you open your eyes, you see him above you, panting as he comes down to Earth. He looks even more handsome like this, all sweaty and messy and smelling of sex. 

“Was that,” he exhales, still trying to catch his breath, “Was that good?”

You just stare up at him, before a laugh manages to escape you. He looks a little sad before you pull him down by the nape of his neck, kissing him again, soft and slow.

“Yes,” you say as you lay your head back against the seat. “That was good, John.”

He smiles, not the usual cocky and self-satisfied look, but a genuine smile, a sense of satisfaction flowing through him. He presses a kiss to your collarbone, atop where he’s left a hickey, then to the other, then a third peck to your lips. You giggle a little, running your hands through his messy hair.

“If I’d known all it took to make you stop being an asshole was fucking you, I woulda done it a lot sooner.”

“Well, technically I was the one fucking you”

You groan, exasperated. “God, the fucking technicalities with you.” you look back up at him, tilting your head as you smile. “Am I gonna have to do this again to make you stop?”

He just shrugs, a mischievous look on his face. “Guess so.” he rolls his hips against yours once more, and you can already feel him getting hard again within you.

“Fuck John…” you’re still barely recovered from the first round.

“Hey, thank the serum.” 

a/n: Shoutout to the Tiktok comment where someone called him Captain Crashout bc i immediately jotted that shit down for later use. And thank all of you who've shown my fics so much love!!! I started this as a hobby to practice my writing and I'm genuinely shocked that people really enjoy these.

It ain't much but it's honest work :)

[snail-day]

Clubbing with Roommate!Suguru is… painful. For him.

He’s not a clubbing guy. Never has been. It's all too loud, sweaty, and far too many hands that grab without asking. He’d rather stay home, finish folding laundry, maybe light a nice candle, and pretend he’s the kind of man who doesn't ache every time his roommate walks into the room with that sweet little smile.

But when you asked, tilting your head, lashes batting, biting your pretty glossy lips, he said “sure” before he could think better of it.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you. He does. He just doesn’t trust every other scumbag in that club. Especially not with you. Not with your too-short dress, or how you keep turning to beam up at him, all radiant and warm, grabbing his hand as if you both are something more.

And he knows that you don't know what it does to him.

He's been good. He has. Clean dishes. Rent on time. Never crosses the line, never watches you sleep when you're napping on the couch no matter how soft you look. Never touches you for longer than he should.

But you're making it so damn hard tonight.

Clinging to his arm when the crowd gets too tight. Throwing your head back laughing at something he didn’t even say, then tucking yourself under his chin like a lover. Like this is normal.

He should go home.

He should let you have fun and stop being a possessive freak. But the moment he steps even an inch away, he watches a pair of hands start to inch toward you, and he’s behind you in seconds, hands curling around your waist like it’s his right. Pulling you back against him, grounding you.

“Careful, princess,” he murmurs into your ear, his voice low, controlled. “This place eats girls like you alive.”

You just giggle, arm curling around the back of his neck like it’s a slow dance and not a crowded bar. You lick the sweat from the column of his throat, lips brushing warm skin, and he goes still.

Dead still.

Because he knows it’s the alcohol. Knows this isn’t real. Knows you’re just tipsy and touchy and you do this to all your friends, right?

Right?

But it’s him you’re grinding on. It’s him you keep pulling close, whispering all your secrets to. And it’s him you end up leaning on in the elevator, too tired to stand upright, blinking up at him with that soft, sleepy pout that ruins him.

“I don’t wanna be single forever,” you mumble, voice thick, fingers curling into the front of his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll slip away.

He swallows. Hard. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say -

“You’d be such a good boyfriend, Suguru.”

His breath catches.

He doesn’t answer. Just chuckles, low and strained, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek as he cups your face. “Alright, pretty girl. Let’s get you to bed.”

It should end there.

But no. Of course not. Because you’re tugging at the hem of your dress with lazy fingers, swaying on your feet, and now he has to help you undress like some kind of saint. He must be some kind of idiot.

“Hands up,” he says gently, not looking at your bare thighs as his shirt falls over your head. “One foot at a time - whoa, okay. I got you.”

You catch yourself on his shoulders, giggling sleepily as your fingers curl against his broad shoulders. His throat is dry. His jaw tight.

He helps you into bed. Tucks you in. But you groan, turning your face into the pillow, then looking up at him, makeup smudged and eyes glassy.

“I hate makeup,” you whine.

He smiles, the expression soft and too fond for his own good. “Then come here. Sit pretty for me.”

You huff, but obey. Legs swinging over the side of the bed as he kneels between them, cotton pad in hand, wiping your cheeks with tender, practiced strokes.

“You’re so bossy,” you mumble.

He laughs under his breath, eyes fixed on your lips.

“You’re so pretty,” he says without thinking.

Your eyes flutter open. Looking up into his violet ones.

He stiffens.

“Okay,” he says quickly, flustered, “Bedtime.”

You curl up on your side, breathing soft, face peaceful. But then you groan again, clutching your stomach.

“…Feel sick,” you whisper.

And that’s all it takes. He’s under the covers with you, just hovering. Just watching. Just making sure you’re okay.

Not because he loves you.

Not because he’s dying to touch you.

Just… for safety.

He’ll tell himself that again tomorrow.

When he’s doing the dishes. When your bra’s still hanging off the bathroom door. When your sleepy voice whispers his name in the middle of the night and his heart damn near breaks.

He’ll remind himself: you’re just roommates.

And you’re making it so hard.

More roommate! Geto: Here

[sadiesdoll]

. ݁₊ 🪶 . ݁˖ cowboy!sevika fucking you through an apology.

contains: age gap (reader is in their mid-20s, sevika is in her late 30s), brat taming, strap-on use, face grabbing, manhandling, strength kink, overstimulation, clit play, nipple play (kinda)

enjoy ♡

The door slams harder than she means it to. 

Boots thudding heavy.

Spurs clinking.

Dust still on her jeans from the barn, hair tied back with a loose black bandana, jaw tight and lips set.

"You done bein' a brat?" she asks, voice low and rough, like gravel and smoke.

Doesn't even wait for an answer before her hand's on your jaw, thumb pressing into your cheek to tilt your face up.

"You wanna pout at me all day, fine. But now you're gonna lay there and take what you been beggin' for."

She doesn't undress.

You do.

Tugs you onto the bed like it's nothin', like you weigh nothing at all, like you're hers to manhandle.

Then she stands at the foot of the mattress, pulls her belt loose with a slow, rough drag of leather, and lets the clink echo.

God, her fingers are dirty. Grease—stained, rough. And she's got her strap already buckled low on her hips—thick and heavy and mean, glistening with lube.

She climbs over you with her boots still on, jeans halfway undone, teeth gritted like she's trying not to fuck you too hard.

Her hat's thrown on the dresser but her attitude is still on—ranch-hardened, sunbitten, mean.

You're already leaking. Legs shaking. Breath hot.

But Sevika just presses her palm flat to your stomach and holds you down.

"Gonna make you say it," she murmurs, not moving yet. Just grinding her strap slow against your soaked cunt, letting the pressure build until your thighs are quivering.

"Said you didn't need me. Said you were fine."

She lines herself up. One thick hand curling around your hip like she owns it.

"Let's see how fine you are with my cock this deep, sweetheart."

She pushes in with one long, slow stroke.

Doesn't stop even when you moan like you're gonna cry—just shushes you gently, wiping the tear from your cheek while her cock drags over every nerve-ending inside you.

"That's it. Breathe through it."

She kisses your neck.

"You take me so fuckin' good."

You can feel her belt buckle cold against your inner thigh. The weight of her cock inside you so deep you swear you're gonna see stars.

And she's still got her damn jeans halfway up her thighs.

Still got the scent of sweat and hay and musk clinging to her shirt.

She smells like outside. Like long days and rough hands and work.

And she's fucking you like you're her reward.

"Look at that."

She pulls out almost all the way, then snaps her hips forward again-slow and brutal, cock hitting you deep while her hand covers your mouth.

"Drippin' all over me and I haven't even started fuckin' you proper yet."

You're so full. So fucking full.

The rhythm she finds is slow and lethal. No mercy. No break. Just long, deep strokes and fingers brushing your nipples under your shirt.

She doesn't need to rush—she's got you.

Pinned. Whimpering.

All hers.

"You wanna be good now?"

She pulls your leg over her shoulder and starts fucking you deeper.

Meaner.

Thumb rubbing slow circles into your clit while your body arches off the bed.

"Then cum on my cock and quit makin' me teach you lessons like this."

And when you do—when your whole body shakes and your thighs twitch and your mouth goes slack beneath her hand—

She kisses your forehead and mutters:

"That's my girl. Now roll over. I'm not done with you yet."

[bitters-n-sweets]

she's a menace — jack abbot x fem!reader While celebrating a coworker's birthday at a bar, Jack Abbot gets distracted watching his girlfriend dancing and turning heads.

warnings: suggestive content (minors go away), spicy, we love a supportive king (jack) masterlist

It's girls' night.

Meaning your dress is too short, and your heels are too high—but you feel amazing. You and your girls had pre-gamed at a bar earlier, and now on your way to the 2nd bar.

You needed this. A night to let go. A night to dance and drink overpriced cocktails and scream-laugh in a bathroom stall with your friends over absolutely nothing.

The bar is crowded, pulsing with music and low light, and when you spot the familiar silhouette at the other end, your heart does a small, surprised flip.

Jack.

He’s here. At this bar. Of all nights.

He hasn't spotted you yet, but you can see he's having a great time with his co-workers. Langdon is there, Collins too, and for once Robby is laughing without a care in the world. You want to say hi, but your friends are already dragging you to the dance floor. Besides, you're curious what he’ll do when he finally notices you.

But Jack’s already noticed.

He’s been stealing glances since you walked in, pretending not to look too long as you twirl and laugh under the flashing lights. Your dress clings in all the right places, dipping perfectly to show your cleavage, hugging every line of your body like it was stitched for sin.

Jack’s heart stutters.

The way you move isn’t for anyone in particular, but it damn well feels like a siren call—slow, confident, sensual. The dress rides up slightly as you spin, and your thigh peeks out just enough to make his breath catch.

If it weren't for Langdon calling for his attention, he would've jumped you by now.

"Yo Abbot— Damn," he whistles, "Someone’s out to kill tonight."

"You're tellin' me." Jack mutters, a proud yet hungry smile etched across his lips, "My girl knows how to put on a show, alright."

"Wait, that's your girl??" Langdon follows his gaze.

Jack nods once.

"I don't believe it." Javadi says.

"And you let her dress like that when you’re not around?"

Jack’s expression doesn’t change. "I don’t let her do anything. She can dress however she wants."

Langdon raises a brow. "Alright, modern man."

Jack sets down his glass and says calmly with a smirk, "Besides, she knows who she belongs to."

The table goes in waves of "oooh"s and whistles for half a second before someone murmurs, "Damn, okay," and they all take another shot.

Back on your side of the bar, you’re oblivious to the murmurs about you, caught up in the music and the high of the night. You wander to the bar for another drink, separated from your group for just a moment, when an uninvited man decides to make his move on you.

A guy—tall, clearly drunk, and way too confident. "Hey, beautiful," he slurs. "You look like you could use some company."

"No thanks." You say curtly.

He laughs and leans in closer anyway, eyes dropping to your dress. "You whores always try to play hard to get..."

Then his hand reaches out—fingers grazing your lower back.

He doesn’t get far.

A hand closes around his wrist, firm and alert.

"Hey, buddy—" the guy starts to protest, turning slightly, only to find himself face-to-face with your lover.

"You should walk away." Jack says with the kind of presence that makes everything in the room feel suddenly still.

The guy scoffs. "And who the fuck are you, old man?"

"I'm her man." Jack says proudly.

The guy lets out a sharp laugh. "You??"

Jack tilts his head, smile slow and cool. "Yeah. Me."

He steps in like he’s trying to size Jack up. "Why don't you go play hero somewhere else?"

"Last chance." Jack exhales once. "Back away."

Instead of listening, the guy sneers and reaches to you again—like he’s about to brush against your hip.

That’s when Jack moves.

He grabs the guy’s wrist mid-motion and twists. Not enough to do damage. Just enough to send pain shooting through the idiot’s arm.

The guy chokes out a curse, dropping back, eyes wide now.

Jack leans in slightly, stares at him like looks could kill. "You don’t want to find out what I’d do next. Now walk away."

And this time, he does. Muttering while rubbing his wrist, vanishing into the crowd.

"Hi, hero."

"Hey, trouble." He smirks, hands draping around your waist, making sure he covers the area that asshole tried to touch you. "You okay?"

"Mm-hmm," you hum. "That was kinda hot."

Jack chuckles, "Oh, honey, you're drunk."

"Yes I am," You confirm. "So what are you doing here, handsome?"

"Donnie's birthday," Jack explains, "we're celebrating. Wanna come say hi?"

"Of course." You smile.

As you approach the table, conversation dips for a beat before Santos lets out a low whistle. "No way. This is your girl, Abbot?"

Jack doesn't answer, just gently pulls you closer and kisses you to make a point. His hand settles just above the curve of your ass, thumb brushing slow circles while you lean into him.

Langdon raises his brows. "My mind is blown right now. How'd you convince her to put up with you?"

"He didn't," you say sweetly, crossing one leg over the other. "I just like a man who can handle power tools, bruised ribs… and knows exactly what he’s doing in bed."

Jack nearly chokes on his drink, and the group erupts with laughter and a few scandalized woo-hoos. He clears his throat, glancing at you with a half-smirk. “Remind me to keep you away from tequila.”

You say goodbye to Jack's coworkers and your friends—they all had their jaws on the floor when they finally saw Jack in the flesh. With screams of "you go get it girl" and "someone's gettin' some tonight" following you out, you finally leave the bar, ears flushed, heart hammering in your chest.

You take a deep breath, finally breathing cool, fresh air. Jack's given you his jacket, like the gentleman he is, and now you're walking home, hand in hand.

"You okay walking? Want me to carry you?" Jack asks, glancing sideways.

You shake your head. "Need to walk off the alcohol anyway."

He hums, "So how was your night?"

"Fun!" you say brightly, then wrinkle your nose, "Until that asshole tried touching me. Ugh."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Jack says, kissing your hand.

"It's okay, you were there to save me. And you made it all okay." You smile, draping his arm around your shoulders. "Though maybe it’s the dress. Maybe I shouldn’t have worn this."

"No, no, we're not gonna do that." Jack stops walking. "You said no, and he didn't listen, he's an ass, and karma will get him one day."

You hum, though Jack can tell you're still not convinced.

Jack turns to you and gently cups your cheek, his thumb grazing along your jaw. "Sweetheart. You can dress any way you like. You look stunning tonight. You always do."

You smile softly. "Okay."

His mouth curls into that slow, grinch-like smirk you know too well. "Besides... I love being the one to take off those clothes once you're done showing off."

Your gasp, then narrow your eyes playfully. "Is that a threat, Dr. Abbot?"

"Oh, baby," he says, sliding his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, "That’s a promise."

----

a/n: kill me now || side note I have like 5 drafts all wip about this man, so help me god