#Shoko was probably dragged there too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

metranart · 4 months ago

Note

hi! it’s me

i wanted to ask you how would the jjk guys react to you getting their lips tatted on you..?(specifically gojo)

like you got them with lipstick and they kiss a paper then the tattoo artist makes it a stencil in red and you put it right under your boob..?

(don’t do this if your uncomfy with it! also take your time your probably busy)

xoxo,em! take care

Hi sweets, sorry for the long wait, I've been awfully busy but here it is, I made it specially smutty to compensate lol hope you like it :) btw... I love your requests ;)

How would the JJK guys react to you getting their lips tattooed on you 💋

Ft. Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Choso, Suguru Geto, Ryomen Sukuna.

SATORU GOJO

Five missed calls and four unseen texts. Gojo sighs, scratching the back of his neck, he hated it when you left him on read. What could you be doing that was so damn important to ignore him.

The sound he had been waiting for since the day started makes his ears ring with excitement and without wasting a second, he opens the text message with your name on it.

Gojo Satoru's eyes widen, and his black glasses slide down the bridge of his nose almost comically thanks to his jaw dropping a little, all at the sight of the picture attached to a cute and adorable message that says:

"Do you like it?"

Gojo growls under his breath, subtly pulling with a shaky finger at the collar of his shirt, suddenly it's too hot there, his cheeks turn an accusatory red and his breathing has grown labored. Even his palms are sweating, for fuck's sake! What's wrong with him?! It's just the shape of his lips on the delicious curve of your under-boob. Shit! He's about to bust a cap inside his pants.

"Satoru-" Nanami's stoic voice breaks his trance and looking around almost as if had forgotten he was in the middle of a briefing, gets up and without any further explanation than: "Emergency!" Leaves the school, leaving behind and unattended, all his duties and mental sanity.

"Did you see the message on his phone, Geto?" a puff of smoke lazily comes out of Shoko’s curious mouth and Geto shrugs. "I saw that it was from (Y/N)." The black-haired snickers and everyone let out a unison, heavy sigh.

Gojo arrives in less time than is humanly possible at your apartment and without warning, not even a ‘hey, babe’, or a: ‘I just teleported myself into your room, hope you don’t mind’. You are dragged by your tall and strong boyfriend, special grade sorcerer and stripped of your top.

"S-Satoru, baby?"

You try to figure out what has him so bristled and with the delicacy of a saint but the curiosity of a child, he yanks your bra up, your delicious breast spills from underneath and his tattooed lips greet him.

"Shit!" is the first word you hear him say and it's almost a painful pant. "Those are my lips, aren't they? This is why you asked me to kiss that paper using the lipstick-...." he sounds accusatory but also incredibly excited.

You nod and let out a sigh that you didn't know were holding. "Phew! When you didn’t answer my text, I thought you didn't like it-"

"Not like it..." he sounds almost offended, and your bra is discarded when he pushes you on your back in the bed. "Not like it?! I love it! I want to eat you whole, (Y/N), I'm only holding back because I need to ask something first."

Being pinned down by his weight and his gentle hands on either side of your jaw, Gojo steals the little space and whispers his question against your ear. "Are you still sensitive from the tattoo, or can I give you a new one with the original source?"

He kisses your earlobe playfully, and you can’t help but giggle dumbly, as you can't help your voice from shaking with excitement. "I’m not made of sugar-"

You can't even finish the sentence when his lips begin the endless and shameless work of awakening every nerve ending in your skin, the desperation palpable in the white-haired sorcerer as every piece of clothing is torn from your body and his and discarded on the floor as impure.

Purple mockeries of your tattoo in the form of hickeys adorn every patch of your sensitive neck like a new necklace, small bites from the small curve of your shoulder to the sinful curve of your waist, nipples swollen and perked from the greedy skating of his tongue on them. Gojo is not being rough, but he is not being gentle either, he is brutal in his advance but methodical and careful that your moans do not change tone.

"I'm going to tattoo myself on you from the inside out," his warn is muffled against your breast as his mouth devours the plump peak of flesh. Paying special attention to pressing his lips against your tattoo over and over and over again, as if certifying its authenticity and quality. The silhouette was exact, the perfect shape of his greedy lips. It was an almost erotic sight for him.

"Huh?"

"Sure,” he chuckled low before keep going, “white ink specially made for you. You'll see, I’m an awesome artist," having you panting, sweating and squirming isn’t enough for him. Oh no! he needs more, Satoru Gojo claims for something more permanent than a mere tattoo. "...My tattoos last nine months inside, and eighteen years outside, they talk and call you mommy, I’m that talented, sweets" tangled between his muscular limbs, your new resting place, he does whatever the fuck he wants with you.

You feel the massive shape of his warm cock against your thigh, he’s been pumping himself no end, not letting you touch him not letting you aid him for fear of wasting his first load, that tasty, thick load he's been preparing especially for you. The mere graze of your fingers on him will be his end, he knows it, so he won’t ask nor accept your help, even when he longs to wrap your fist around his throbbing cock, desperate to help relieve the burning ache deep in his gut. Or better yet, wrap your perfect mouth around his cock and suck him off– NO! he now’s not the time for him to be negligent.

Once loaded, abandons his quest for relief and rests his warm palm on your belly massaging it as if molding it to fit something of his, while the other keeps playing with your cunt, enjoying the way you suck his fingers deeper when he turns his attention back to your poor, neglected clit.

“I never thought someone would be able to awaken my paternal instinct-... did my clan hire you, sweets?” he scoffed, playfully. He can tell that you’re close, not just from the needy moans and whimpers but the way your muscles are tensing and spasming around his digits. The desperate rocking of your hips against his palm, as a firm beg for relief.

“It's just a tattoo....”

“Na ah!” His hand continues playing with your tummy, your navel, the curve of your waist almost obsessively while his tongue makes out with the curve of your neck. “This was your way of telling me that you want me forever..." long finger prod at your gummy walls, searching for that hidden blessed spot that’s gonna make you go wild–

"Let me show you how gifted I am, my sweet girl..."

He finds it in matter of seconds, and you lose all kind of restriction and complaint and Gojo can’t help but smirk against your neck as you tighten and quiver around his digits. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his thumb pressed over your clit, flicking at the sensitive pearl as he suckles a deep purple hickey on the skin. Long, thick fingers guiding you through madness with each and every stroke, it’s too much for your poor, oversensitive body to handle.

"Y-Yes, Satoru, shown me, fill me, mark me-… do whatever the fuck you want-"

You convulse in the spare seconds of glorious pleasure before cumming with a strangled shriek, and Gojo’s groan muffles against your skin when can finally sink in one roll of his hips, feeding you that fat cock he’s been pumping to the edge just for this exact moment, buries deep inside you, kissing your cervix in that one thrust of raw meat. With an animalistic grunt, spills his soul inside your womb, pouring every last drop of cum he's been cooking in those heavy balls until he empties himself, flooding your inside with his gifted seed. A rush of juices gushes from your trembling cunt onto your connected lower halves, and you feel and hear him pant like a dog next to your ear, as both come down from the high.

"Am I your favorite tattoo artist or what?"

CLICK HERE FOR THE NSFW ART FOR THIS DRABBLE 🥵

NANAMI KENTO

He's stoic and serious, almost unmoving in his unflappable staring as you lift your shirt so he can see your new tattoo. His silent disposition is starting to make you more than a little nervous, since you know that Nanami Kento isn't exactly a crazy animal, but rather, a calm and quiet being who hides a wild side that he only shares with those closest to him. Making you wonder if you fall into that category or not, as his silence as he inspects the tattoo of his lips under your boob is virtually killing you with anxiety.

"Those are your lips, my love." You explain again, even though you've already done it three times, and you receive the same ‘mphm’ sound he made the first three times.

"Remember? -… remember when I ask you to kiss a paper?"

"I do."

"Well, I gave that to the tattoo artist, and he made it a stencil in red and then I ask him to put it right under my boob...?"

"I see."

Those calm eyes, analyze from every possible angle the tattoo of his lips on your skin, it had never been so difficult for you to read your boyfriend. "Do you like it, do you hate it? Tell me anything, Kento."

Silence and more close observation.

You close your eyes, squeezing your eyelids shut as you take that deep breath of air, you need so much, and you are about to demand an answer when you feel it...

Your eyelids suddenly open looking down and there you find him: Your stoic, boyfriend, the sensible and calm man who is always in control, kneeling in front of you while pressing his lips against your tattoo, the round softness of your boob loses its shape momentarily as the blond pushes his face more firmly against the plump skin. The most unexpected kiss that you have ever shared and for some reason, the most erotic, too.

"K-Ken?"

"Did it hurt?" he asks suddenly from his kneeling position and the threat of you stuttering makes you just shake your head. Nanami steals another kiss against the softness of your breast like he can’t have enough of the sensation. "Are you sure it doesn't hurt?"

You nod, mesmerized by the sudden attention this blond showers you with, his hands caressing your bare back from top to bottom, slow and gentle with the tips of his fingers, it's delicious and it melts away the anxiety you may have been feeling, now, malleable in his hands. You let his face sink further into the curve of the tattoo of his lips and you moan his name as if you want to taste it rolling down your tongue.

"Nanami."

"... Do you still have the lipstick?"

"Huh?" That request brings you out of your reverie a little, and you look at him with some confusion, to which he smiles, that smile that makes you weak in the knees. "Y-Yes, it's in my purse."

"Lend it to me, darling."

With his palm splayed wide open he waits for you to hand over the lipstick. Digging for the cosmetic, he waits patiently until it's resting in his open hand and before you can air your doubts, he stands up, lifting you into his arms to take you with him, those muscular limbs feel like the safest place in the world and you nuzzle your nose into his neck to breathe in his scent combined with his cologne, and it’s intoxicating, so much so that you almost miss his next question.

“I’d like to suggest a few other places where my lips would look just as amazing on your body.”

“Kento!” you startle, it’s adorable to him and closing the distance, he presses his lips to yours, tasting, nibbing and licking as he carries you to his room. “You take suggestions don’t you, sweetie?”

He chuckles at the flush growing wild on your cheeks, and you feel the softness of the mattress on your back as he sets you down with the care of a saint, before beginning to loosen his tie and unbutton his shirt. Your body shivers in anticipation and his lips curve up into the cheekiest grin you’ve ever seen him make, his large hand reaching out one elegant finger towards you and beckoning you with it.

You’re on your knees in front of him in seconds, his knuckles running down the length of your jaw in a silky caress that has you purring like a kitten, leaning into his touch. That smile only stretches further, as your eyes flutter shut and you feel the greedy grip on his lips, hunting for another kiss.

Unfortunately, it ends too soon, and your mouth holds that pouty shape that demands another sweet kiss, but instead of his fleshy lips, you feel the creamy slick of lipstick painting your lips.

“Tell me, (Y/N),” Nanami is delighted with how docile you are to him as he finishes painting your lips red, and it’s the sound of his pants zipper coming down that catapults your eyes open, “what would you think of me tattooing your lips right here?”

His finger points along his defined obliques and your mouth waters, this man was sincerely praised by the gods themselves, every muscle in his abdomen defined, those deep lines going down to his crotch giving that ‘v’ shape to his torso, that sinful path of golden hair that disappears under his trousers. It's too much for you.

"I think I need to see what it looks like first and then I can give you an informed answer, Kento."

His broad chest rises and falls violently, sweat runs down his forehead and his cheeks are an explosion of color. This is your masterpiece. Nanami Kento’s fat cock fits with effort in your mouth, but you certainly do your best to get it to touch the back of your throat with every thrust, you can feel him getting close, his thighs tremble under your hands, his forearm covers his eyes, his cheeks are about to explode… he’s too close, and your tongue curling around the tip doesn’t help him resist, you suck him off for over ten minutes and you’re proud of that pleasurable ache in your jaw when he comes shamelessly hard at the back of your throat and your name rips through his esophagus as it echoes through the walls of his apartment. Eventually, his hand stops keeping your head pressed against his pelvis, and with a wet pop, his still semi-erect cock hangs in front of your face, lubed in your saliva.

“You’re right, I think it would look nice.”

You tell him, admiring the lipstick residue that adorns the shape of his cock and balls, a crimson kiss near the base, another at the shiny, cum-dripping tip, another resting on the roundness of his coarse balls, and you love the whole image. You want a fucking mural in your living room with this image.

“Hell no,” the blonde says breathlessly, barely trying to recover from your masterful blowjob, “…no needle is going to touch me down there,” he threatens playfully but serious enough, “if you like the way it looks, you’re going to have to paint it yourself every time.”

A giggle escapes your mouth, red lipstick smeared on your lips as you grin evilly at him.

“You have yourself a deal, baby."

CLICK HERE FOR THE NSFW ART FOR THIS DRABBLE 🥵

CHOSO KAMO

Choso can't control where the blood goes since, he met you, his cursed technique is out of control. That damn tattoo of his lips on the curve of your under-boob is driving him crazy, he thinks of it and the blood goes down to his crotch. He thinks of you and the blood makes a tent in his pants.

It's a mess that he's had to control with shameful continuous masturbation sessions. Jerking himself off, over and over, with your name as a mantra and the image of his lips tattooed on your breast as his banner.

"Shit, just go away."

He murmurs with a tight voice, while his fist milks his fat cock in fast and violent motions, his flesh swollen painfully for more than an hour, he doesn't want you to come home from work and find him touching himself, he doesn't want you to find out that he lost control of his cursed technique. He had to lower himself to watching porn, something he had never done before, but it was of no use. So, he put on cream and although it had relieved him on other occasions, this time wasn't working its charm. Fuck! Pleaaaase-... maybe he needs more cream to slide better? No, no matter how much cream he spreads on it never compares even a little to your tight, little pussy.

And it is the desperation, that he is running out of time that drives him to this miserable act. He takes, that one photo he treasures so much, out of the frame and places it between his fingers, his excitement growing as he looks at it, it is working. He beats his piece of swollen flesh more eagerly, grunting and growling like a dying animal, Fuck! he's close...his eyes close in concentration and his hand increases speed and pressure as his mouth hangs open… almost there, he can feel his balls tensing and tightening, so close, just a few more pumps, a couple more strokes, a little more pressure, almost there… his guts tighten and his brain enraptures in the moment forgetting to mind his surroundings, to enjoy the divine sensation that grows and grows and grows and FUCK!-

Choso Kamo cums, hard and heavy, rope after rope of creamy cum shoots out of the head of his cock like a mockery of how blood usually does when he uses his cursed technique, the pressurized jet of creamy juice spills out and doesn't finish pouring for about a minute straight. Once his balls are an empty, trembling sack, Choso can breathe again, his sweaty and naked torso rises and falls with violence that calms down the more air he sucks, the sweat begins to dry on his skin and his cheeks feel less hot. This was what he needed, the photo helped him a lot, although he can feel how he bathed it in cum, he can fix it quickly, clean every single trail of his sin before you get home-

"C-Choso?"

His hand, which was riding out the last few strokes of pleasure on his ultra-sensitive cock freezes and his eyes snap open to find you staring at the mess he is, just what he wanted to avoid, damn it! -

"B-Baby, I-" he starts to stutter and stops abruptly when his eyes register what he did.

Your cheeks are painted a deep red but that's to be expected, what's not to be expected are the cum globes that slide down your pretty face, down your cheeks, varnishing your eyelashes and part of your eye, messing up your perfect hairdo, staining your work uniform. Choso enraptured himself so much in his own fantasy that he didn't notice when you walked through the door, or when you approached him.

Now, he has no idea how to begin to apologize, the words are stuck in his dry throat. Are you angry? Are you furious with him? Your beautiful eyes only watch him, better said, ogle him: pants pooling at his ankles, shirt bunched up to his neck, his cock limp but slowly filling with blood again between his trembling fingers, the cockhead shiny and pink and still, spewing cum to further mortify him.

Choso is paralyzed, unable to move and his mouth barely managing to open to spit out any explanation, snaps shut again from the shame that crushes him.

But that shame turns to bewilderment when his eyes catch the subtle movement of your hand gathering a glob of his cum that slides down your cheek, with all the delicacy and grace that define you, and you play with it for a second between your fingers before opening your mouth and dipping the digits between your tongue. Choso's jaw drops to the floor and his breathing hastens again, his cursed technique going out of control once more, summoning blood to that still throbbing and extra-sensitive part.

Your pretty lips curve into a feline grin that makes him feel like your prey, and he swallows hard, clenching his fists to keep his body from shaking, when his eyes meet yours.

“Is this what you do when I go to work, sweetheart?” you ask, licking your lips to collect the cum resting there, “you jerk off while looking at my graduation picture?” a flirtatious giggle escapes you when you specify, “...same picture where your little brother is, too, how dirty.”

Choso is a bundle of nerves, blood just keeps pooling where it shouldn’t, he’s so hard and swollen that your eyes drop there almost automatically.

“I’ll take care of cleaning everything-”

You interrupt his apology, raising a finger to get his attention so he can see you, as you lift your pencil skirt up to your thighs and slowly settle yourself comfortably on top of his lap, nestling his cock between your warm stockinged thighs. Choso shivers and carefully as if asking for permission, let his large hands slide down those wide, inviting thighs.

“…How about you start by cleaning me up first?” Your warm hand tangles around his firm erection and he growls low, “Then you get me dirty again,” you slide those fingers up and down on his stiffness in shameless incitement and smile when notice his eyes roll back his skull, “and we repeat it all until dawn.”

“Yesyesyesyesyes, whatever my girl wants-…” the words rush from his mouth, “…just one request,” an eyebrow rises on your face, and he grins, warm and almost, shyly. “May I see the tattoo of my lips again?”

CLICK HERE TO READ ALL MY JJK SMUT FANFICTION COMMISSIONS

SUGURU GETO

“Do you… Do you really like it, Suguru?” You ask, lolling your head forward and humming when his fingers slowly travel up and unclasp your bra, the last barrier you have left to cover yourself. Every little breathy sound you make comes ragged and soiled with a mix of uncertainty and excitement.

“Way too much, baby,” his low voice carefully admits from above you. “I don’t know why you hid it from me in the first place. Don’t—don’t do that. You don’t have to. EVER.”

Your breathing keeps picking up when he keeps trailing his hands around either side of your now naked torso, running the tips of his fingers down your ribs and slowly tracing the curve of your breast, letting the pads of his fingers memorize the shape of his tattooed lips on your skin.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” Suguru whisper, quite suddenly emboldened by his growing need. The gentle caresses pause at the very top of perked nipple, holding there for a second while he seems to think about it. “Please, don’t make me repeat myself.”

Soon his touch lifts away and he appreciates the sound your hands make, as those little limbs make haste in follow his request, the muffled shuffling of fabric being stripped of your skin somewhere close by and the soft noise it makes dropping to the floor, close to erotic to the first-grade sorcerer. And then suddenly—

“Oh, God—” you breathe, nearly melting into the seat of his school office when large, warm palms meet your skin and slowly start to ride the curve of your neck and collarbone downwards. Dammit, why does it feel so good? Suguru Geto smirks, like the knowing devil that he is. “Do my hands feel amazing, baby? It’s just two palms, ten fingers-”

“…. But they’re so strong and raspy and big….” Your mouth babbles unrestrainedly, “touch me more, Geto….”

One palm butterfly out across your breast and you moan, lewdly loud. “If Director Yaga hears, I’m going to be so fired, pretty.”

“S-Sorry…”

Dipping and squeezing the soft, pillowy flesh of your boobs, Suguru Geto stares down at you, drinking every emotion and expression he can rip out of you. “Ho—fuck, like that.” Your approval is everything to him.

“I know,” Suguru murmurs, his voice ocean-deep and scraping across the shell of your eager ear when he leans closer from his privileged height to press one bended knee to the chair, right in between your thighs. He lets one hand drift down into the space he created and rub circles on the moist mound of flesh there, as his other hand comes up to cradle your chin, urging you to stretch your neck up and long for him. “You look so pretty like this— all naked and horny for me.”

“Someone might come in, lock the door…” you breathe in protest, remembering your shy nature, and he ignores you, slowly dragging his palm down your trembling slit.

“You don't get a tattoo as sensual as that, if you don't want everyone to drool after you,” he says, and you’re helpless to stop the embarrassing way your knees suddenly jerk farther apart when his hand moves to press a fat finger on your clit. “… Showing all the monkeys how sexy you are, and then showing them that you belong ONLY to me.”

And then he squeeeezes your bundle of nerves, and your hips nearly come off the seat with it.

Nothing else exists besides your boyfriend’s pair of hands now gripping the bottom of the chair, to position your body closer to him. You hear yourself take exactly one shaky breath before his arms suddenly slithered under your knees, hauling you forward. Your lower back dips in at the angle, your pelvis now jutted out and propped up by the edge of the seat.

Suguru Geto licks his lips as if he as if a banquet were being presented to him and the following is him lowering himself to the floor in front of you, running those deliciously strong palms up the length of your thighs. Your new position encourages you to spread your legs wider for him.

“I think my lips, tattooed here,” his long, cascading loose hair caresses the inner skin of your thighs as he leans down to the lower curve of your tummy and places a soft, warm kiss, “would look great, as well.”

“Y-You think?”

Your quivering lips exhale at the feeling of his hot, plump lips meeting your feverish skin, and hearing the sound of his breath hitch at the visual you give him, goosebumps spread all you’re your body.

“I know it,” He promises, opening you up wider, subtly moving himself closer into the gap and letting you cradle his torso with your knees.

“Mine to feast on, mine to pamper,” the special grade sorcerer rumbles quietly, his grip on your thighs tightening as he licks his lips, hungrier. “So, mine to… own.”

“….-Own?”

And then you’re abruptly cut off by your own gasp when a soft, dexterous tongue slowly envelopes your clit. His lips slick between your folds as his rogue tongue flicks out like hot velvet to flutter greedily over your clit, humming low in his throat as he eats you with unreserved gluttony.

“Fuck, this is heaven. This is fucking heaven,” he rumbles against your sloppy pussy, “my sweet girl laying with her legs open and letting me eat her after I’m done giving classes—….”

“Su-Sugu… oh, fuck—” Your words are barely discernible through the pleasure, deformed by the sound of your breaths and gasps. “Do—Do you think someone can h-hear us?”

Suguru smirk is swallow by your folds and his snicker muffled by his need to keep eating you to even let you know that a six eyes user had been spying from the other side of the door since you started.

“Noones at the school at these hours but us teachers, baby. Don’t worry your pretty head.”

His fingers curl against your thighs, his tongue swirling gentle circles around your swollen clit as he sinks two of his thick fingers deep inside your cunt. Both of your hands thrust out without thinking and snatch at his loose raven mane, fingers burying themselves into thick waves of hair. “Oh—f-fuck—”

He makes a rough little growl into your warmth every time you tug on his hair, and you tug every time, he pulls his fingers out and then pushes them back in again, until it becomes a vicious circle where both do that steadily, over and over until you’re sweating, hips arching up and doing everything you can to entice him to hurry the fuck up.

Suguru snickers again at your impatience, instead, he’s unbelievably slow, continuing to lick his hot tongue through your folds as his eager finger fuck you, so utterly patient and steadfast, learning the right notes to drive you crazy.

“You are close, aren’t you, dove?” he flicks that wicked tongue applying more pressure to your abused clit, “something’s beginning to burn in your core, I can see the cursed energy spreading threateningly along the muscles in your pelvis.” Suguru narrated what he felt with his own cursed energy, without a doubt the out-looker seeing the same as he was, just in HD. “It rises through your abdomen like unstoppable wave, seeps down into your knees and wraps around them. Your breathing is getting shallower, the base of your lungs suddenly feels too cramped by the oncoming explosion. I know, baby, just let it happen, don’t hold back. You can squirt on my face. I’m eager for you to baptize me on your fountain of love—”

“Stop it, Suguru… I’m-I’m not…. I will not….”

Your resistance is nothing but amusing to him, this is your nemesis. You hate how sensitive you are, how easy your boyfriends read you and undoes you with his mere tongue, you hate that squirting jet that makes your toes curl and your eyes blank, but once it’s over, makes you very aware of the mess you made.

Suguru finally speeds up, and that rock steady display of ferocity makes you want to cry.

“—I-I’m gonna cum,” you breathe, everything inside pulling up fierce and tight, your chest heaving and your grip in his hair turning to iron. “—Oh, fuck, I’m g-gonna cum—I-I—”

A quiet mhmmm sound rumbles low in gentle encouragement, and then he takes a second to softly suck on your clit to push you over the edge. His fingers curl, press up hard against something absolutely fucking devastating inside you, Suguru Geto knows you so well is almost unfair, and bite your lip is all you can do to stifle a sob when your body suddenly erupts in searing burning ecstasy.

Your back arches and you cum in his mouth, wailing his name while he groans raggedly and drags you through it. It’s hot and wet, in equal parts chaos and bliss. You’re still trying to calm your breathing when a gentle softness presses against your lips, mindful of rewarding you with as much love as he can profess in one single, chaste kiss. It’s over way too soon though, and by the time you open your eyes again, you blearily blink them at him. He’s already standing, impeccable and not one strand of raven hair out of place. A swift smirk curving his lips while his stare never strays from your destroyed persona, heaving and sweating and naked in a public place. Fuck! He adores you so much.

“Are you hungry?” He eventually asks looking straight ahead instead of you, the low frequency of his natural voice not masked anymore by his arousal.

You blink up at him twice, still slouched over the seat butt-naked, trying to figure out who is he talking to, all your clothes spread around his desk and the floor when you hear some familiar voice answer from the other side of the door.

“Starving.”

CLICK HERE TO READ ALL MY JJK SMUT FANFICTION COMMISSIONS

RYOMEN SUKUNA

The euphoric sway of his hips meeting yours should be an affront to the natural order, your boyfriend, Ryomen Sukuna, had been maintaining the same rhythm, precision and firmness in each thrust for more than forty minutes.

You are cockdrunk, you don’t remember your own name, only his. Which comes out of your trembling lips in pieces or unfinished syllables. Your mind is a mess, a rabid mess of hormones and pleasure, but your insides are the most affected, making you endure mini-orgasm after mini-orgasm that shake your frame violently, leaving all your muscles exhausted and sweaty. Breathing ragged, face pressed against the sheets of his bed and your wrists swallowed by his large hands against the firm mattress, while he introduced you again and again to your new deity, his thick cock, which seemed just as hard and ready to continue making a mess of you.

“…I’m sure you’ll think twice about pulling a stunt like that again now, won’t you, princess?”

Although his voice was breathless, it was still firm and solid, not like your pathetic moans.

“I…I thought you’d-…that you’d like it, Kuna-...” That sentence trailed from your half-open lips, between a sigh and a moan as he changed the angle to hit that spot of nerves inside you that made you see stars.

“I know you meant well but it was still unacceptable,” your boyfriend scolds you again, and a delicious shiver runs down your spine as his hands abandons your wrists in order to better hook on either side of your hip. The mere sensation of his thick fingers digging into your soft skin makes you cum again. "Fuck- you squeeze me so good, baby..." he praises, plunging his massive cock deeper into your quivering hole just to draw out more sensations, "-.... shit! If I cum again, are you going to keep it warm for me inside your tummy, princess?"

"Kuna, yes, always..." you moan into the sheets miserably, "don't stay mad at me, please, my love-"

"I loved the tattoo of my lips on your under-boob, don't doubt that" he affirms, firm thrusts clapping his midsection with yours, like giving his stamina a cheer. "But I HATED the fact that some guy had to do it. Don't you know any female tattoo artists, Isn't this the era of women's empowerment?"

You crawl forward and he catches you before you can shift positions. "Kuna, baby... let me ride you, so I can control the speed... I can't cum again-"

"I. Don't. care." He replies, skewering you again on his veiny, thick piece of meat that still feels like stone. "I'll put it in you as fast as I want and as long as I want until you learn your lesson-"

"Which is?"

"You, cocky little thing." He chuckles and emphasizes each word with a thrust. "Nobody. Touches. You. But. ME! Just ME."

“Mine.” Thrust, “Mine~” thrust, thrust, thrust, “MINE.” Thrustthrustthrustthrustthrustthrust—

Sukuna doesn´t hold himself back, even after he comes for the sixth time, he keeps going.

Slipping in and out of you, still rock hard, twisting you uncaringly in all kinds of positions and surfaces that his room provides, just fucking his cum inside you with every unpunished thrust.

You are tired, you are actually exhausted, you are emotional-... and you are drained.

“—I'm yours, just yours... hands off, w-world.... just y-yours~”

His hips stop, finally halting all movement when you give him what he's looking for, he just wants to hear that over and over again from your quivering lips and raspy throat, he just wants you to say it again. Maybe you should tattoo that as well.

Making you come one last glorious and almost painful time. Your naked body is left, used, sweaty and worn but warmly and safely wrapped in his arms. A huge smirk on his lips before he kisses your eyelids, so you open them again and once again you do.

"Now that we got that out of the way, let me see it again..." Sukuna asks, gently squeezing your tattooed boob inside his large palm, letting his eyes scan each patch of skin and how well he marked you with little hints of hickeys and teeth. "...I think we can play twister with every mark I left on your body," he snickers amused, "...but let's start with those lips on your breast."

“Jerk.”

He grins, satisfied. Hugging you harder to plaster your form closer to him, squeezing that sassy grin out of your pretty face.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NSFW ART FOR THIS DRABBLE 🥵

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gojonanami · 11 months ago

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❝ 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐈𝐅 𝐈 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄 ? ❞

❝ ALL THESE PEOPLE THINK LOVE'S FOR SHOW, BUT I WOULD DIE FOR YOU IN SECRET ! ❞

✧ pairing: suguru geto x sorcerer! reader

✧ summary: suguru's birthday spent with you is like a dream -- the perfect day spent in bliss, but what happens when the dream has to come to an end?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, jjk compliant au (reader is a sorcerer), domesticity, cuddling, oral (m +f), handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), improper massage technique, some angst (discussion of star vessel / premature death arc / geto's defection),

✧ wc: 3,015

The first thing Suguru felt were fingertips brushing against his cheek.

“Morning, birthday boy,” you murmured, and his almost violet eyes fluttered still half within the grasp of the sandman, and it didn’t help you looked as if you were the thing of dreams — your body clad only in his white button down, hair askew from your late night with him, and eyes filled with utter love and devotion, “finally waking up? Because I have a whole day planned for you,”

His lips curl despite the sleep that weighed on his eyelids, a hum leaving his lips, as his fingers find you, even with his eyes closed — just as he always could, his fingers curling around your wrist, as he expertly tugged you and wrapped his arms around you. You were caged in around his limbs, pressed to his chest with barely any space to move, you’d be scared, if wasn’t exactly where you wanted to be.

You sigh, burying your face in his chest, lips brushing the skin of his bare chest, “Sugu, come on, we can’t laze all day, I have a nice breakfast planned, and we’re having lunch with Satoru, Shoko, and Nanami later, and I have a million other nice things planned — none of which we can do if you don’t get out of bed,”

“But you forgot something,” it’s his turn to sigh, as he shifts his face to rest against your neck, nose nearly tickling the skin there, as his lips press butterfly kisses, dotted like constellations along your neck and collarbone — as if he find the all the universe had to offer between the space of your neck and shoulder, “my favorite thing to do is right here,”

You roll your eyes at the innuendo, a knowing smirk on his lips, one you didn’t need to see to know it was there — it was done against your neck after all, “If I recall, we did plenty of your favorite thing last night, and it’s the reason you’re probably so tired right now,”

His fingers begin to toy with the buttons of his shirt that you’d stolen, “Well, they say you can never have too much of a good thing, after all,”

“Oh, is that so?” and his lips find yours again to swallow your next retort, his lips gliding against yours and he can taste the coffee you had just had, the bitter taste mixed with your sweet tongue, that flicked not so sweetly against the seam of his lips.

“You said I could have anything I want today,” he murmurs, beginning to undo the buttons one by one, as he revealed your body to his eyes — a twitch in his boxers as he realized you wore not a single thing underneath, “well right, all I want is you, for breakfast,”

Your cheeks burn, thighs pressed together, his words sending a rush of heat down to your still aching cunt, “Sugu—” but his lips find yours again, his fingers busy with teasing your nipples — rolling both between his pointer finger and thumb, “fuck, baby—”

“Gotta enjoy my meal baby,” his lips burn a trail of kisses down your body, his lips curling around your tit, his teeth grazing and teasing one and then the other, drawing a whimper from your lips, as he pulls his mouth away with a pop, “it’s the most important meal, and I have to start my birthday right, don’t I?”

And his hands drag down your sides, large calloused fingers squeezing your hips, as he lifts your legs to hook around his shoulders, his dark gaze devouring the sight of your pretty cunt glistening with your slick, before his mouth and tongue would.

His lips warm your outer lips, as his fingers tease your puffy little clit, pinching it, “Still swollen from last night,” his lips curl as you yelp in surprise, with a glare shot his way, that rolls into the back of your head as he buries his face in your sweet pussy. His nose grinds against your clit deliciously, as his tongue collects the pre already drenching you, humming at the taste — how was it that you were truly his favorite thing he tasted? You weren’t exactly sweet down there, but you were the only dessert he wanted (he’d leave the actual sugar to Satoru), “seems like you wanted this too by the way you’re leaking down here, my shirt and sheet is even wet,” he teases, making you cover your face in embarrassment, “don’t worry, sweetheart,” he smiles up at you with his slick covered lips and dripping chin, “I’ll clean you up.”

“You don’t have to do this for me,” Suguru says, but you only shake your head, meeting his gaze in the mirror, with a roll of your eyes.

“I want to do this for you,” as your fingers continue to comb his dark locks, finger twirling one strand between his fingers, “plus this is more for me than you, you never let me play with your hair at Jujutsu Tech,” you pouted, and he snorts.

“First, you said ‘play,’ not do, and second, do you forget the first and only time I let you, Shoko, and Satoru do my hair?” and you stifle a laugh, badly disguised as a cough, as you lips part to answer, “don’t lie, I know you guys use it as your group chat photo,”

“I only wanted to put clips and a scrunchie in your hair — dying your hair was all Satoru—” and his sharp look cuts you off, as you relent, before running your fingers through his hair, and easing another knot from his locks, “well isn’t this nice though?” and he nods, after your lips graze the edge of his hairline, “we’re almost done and you can tie your hair up after,” you hum.

“Do you like my long hair?” and he meets your curious gaze in your reflection, “I mean, i decided to grow it out after we graduated, but I was wondering if you ever thought I should cut it,”

You purse your lips, scrutinizing him in contemplation, “I love your hair either way, but you were always so meticulous about cutting it the same length, so why did you decide to grow it out?” His eyes fall to his lap, and he swallows, “you don’t have to—” you say softly, and his fingers find yours, squeezing.

“I want to,” he echoes, as he bites his lip, “I heard when I was a kid that hair holds memories, and ever since Amanai and Haibara…I don’t want to ever forget them,” and he toys with a strand between his fingers, “And by keeping my hair longer, it feels like I can hold onto that, onto them,” he says softly, and you nod, “I know it’s not logical—”

“Not everything has to be logical, not everything has to have a reason,” you murmur, pressing your lips to his cheek, wrapping your arms around his neck, “sometimes things can just be a thing you do — but either way, if you cut your hair or keep it long, I don’t think you’ll ever forget those two, and neither would they — ever,” and he turns to meet your lips in a slow kiss, your fingers ghosting his cheek, before you finally part, “come on, get dressed, we’re going to be late.”

~~~~

“You told me he liked strawberry sponge and cream cake,” you punched Satoru in the shoulder, who takes it if only to appease you, with a pout, “you said that’s what he wanted this year, you blue eyed freak,”

“It is! How was I supposed to know he’d lie to me?”

“You know him for how many years and you can’t tell it was a lie?”

“You’re his partner, you don’t know what cake he likes—”

Suguru rubs his forehead, as you and Satoru continue to bicker, as he pulls a lighter out, and offers to light Shoko’s cigarette, as she leans on the windowsill of one of the open windows, “Those two never grow up do they?” and Suguru snorted, leaning against the wall next to her, facing the spectacle you and Satoru were making, “why did you say strawberry cake?”

“Because it’s both of their favorites,” his eyes slide to those two as Satoru used his infinity only to infuriate you, “I always had thought those two would have made a better match,”

He feels Shoko’s eyes slide to him, “She loves you, not Satoru,” and his eyes find yours, just as they always did, and you smile the one smile he always hoped would be reserved for only him.

“I know.”

“Did we have to stay that long?” Suguru sighs, pulling off his jacket, “who slipped alcohol into Satoru’s plastic cup anyway?” and your pause gives it away, as he glances at you, pulling off your shoes, “sweetheart, you know he can’t handle his alcohol,”

“Well someone should’ve handled their job right then,” and he laughs, as he walks over to wrap his arms around you, as you grumble, “you ask Mr. Six Eyes to do something — and he can’t even see through a lie, so are we really buying that he actually has them—”

And his lips find yours again, his hands sliding down to your hips to pull you closer, “I believe you owe me a present still,” he kisses down your neck, and he feels you melt into his touch, your fingers splaying on his shoulders, “and I know exactly what I want,”

“Well, I may have gotten you something a little different,” your lips curl.

“A massage?” he raises an eyebrow, as you strip him down to his boxers on the bed, a few towels underneath him as you warmed the massage oil with your hands. He heard the squish and squelch of your fingers, and he felt his dick twitch, the noise sounding like something else.

��You don’t relax enough, this way, I can help you relax a little,” you hum, as you stand beside him, “can I start?” and he bites his lip, but nods.

“Go ahead, princess,” and you do — Suguru didn’t realize how many knots he had in his back, the muscles stiff and immovable at first, until you begin to work away at the bundles of stress he had accumulated. A moan slips from his lips as he feels the stress ebb away, a blush burning up his cheeks, “Sorry,”

“No complaints here, baby,” you giggle. God, he was so fucking hot like this. His muscles were glistening with the oil, each muscle becoming more relaxed under your touch, the little grunts and groans that left his lips left another knot, but this one was in your cunt.

Suguru couldn’t help let these moans escape his lips, you were making him feel so good, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to move after this, his body far too limp. Or so he thought. Your hands were traveling lower and lower, until they brushed against the waistband of his boxers, and he shivers, “Sweetheart,”

“What? You carry stress here too, and as your masseuse, I have to do a good job right?” you hum, “as long as my client permits me,”

And he bites his lip, “I’ll permit anything from you, baby,”

You don’t need any more words, as your fingers pull at the boxers, tugging the fabric down to reveal his ass, your fingers first ghosting over the flesh teasingly, before beginning to massage it.

Fuck, now he was fully hard, his dick rubbing against the mattress — thank god you put down towels — as you worked out the knots in his gluteus muscle, but he didn’t know if you were helping him relax or not, because he never had felt more stiff. And it doesn’t escape your notice.

You hum, “Maybe we need a different method,” your finger traces up and down your spine, “would my client mind turning over for me?”

“Princess—”

“Just one more thing to help you relax,” and he relents, turning over, to reveal the tent in his boxers, still drawn over his front, and your eyes fall to his cock, “and I see where all the stress has gone,” you tsk, as you climb onto the bed, straddling his waist, drawing a gasp from his lips, “poor baby, all worked up still?” Your fingers traces his clothed head, a large wet patch that assuredly wasn’t massage oil, “I think I can relax you.”

He’s biting his lip as he watches you tug down his boxers, fabric dragging against his erection as you do, slapping against his stomach, “Sweetheart—“

“Just let me do this for you, baby,” you murmur as you clean your hands with a rag and instead smear the beads of precum along his length, drawing a groan from his lips, “so sensitive for me, Sugu, been wanting me since morning haven’t you?” You hum, as you begin to work his cock with your hand, lips leaning down to press a kiss to his weeping tip, “it’s only fair if I get to taste you too — after all, I may have been your breakfast, but you’re my dessert,”

And your lips wrap around his length, tracing his slit with the tip of your tongue, and tasting his salty precum. He groans, the noise burning a trail to your cunt, “s’good for me,” you murmured against him, as you took as much of him as you could, taking the rest in your hands.

His fingers weave into your hair, hips lightly bucking into your mouth, the tip of his cock brushing against your throat, and you manage to suppress your gag reflex, “shit, sorry—“ but you cut off his apology by licking a thick stripe up one of his veins, before hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, “fuck, Princess, I’m close—I—“ and your fingers toy with his balls and your mouth redoubles his efforts, until he’s cumming down your throat with your name on his lips, his thick load painting your mouth and throat, as you swallow it eagerly.

He flutter open, only to watch you pull your swollen lips from his length, strings of spit and cum still connecting you to his cock, before you wipe it away, “don’t worry baby,” you lean down to lick the beads of cum dripping from his tip, his hips jerking, “I’ll clean you up,”

And after you get him all cleaned up, the two of you are in bed again, tucked up next to each other — Suguru was completely boneless, as you climb into bed beside him, “you okay baby?”

He nods, smile on his lips, “More than okay after that,” he murmurs, lips finding yours, and then he pulls away with a pause, “but I didn’t get you off, baby,” and his forehead furrows as you chuckle.

“Worry about that tomorrow, baby. I think you need some sleep now,” you crawl into his arms, your head pressed against his chest, you were so warm pressed against him, “got all I need right here,” you murmur, before you ask, “did you have a good birthday?”

“I always do,” his fingers graze your cheek, as his eyes flutter shut, “always when I’m with you, Princess,”

The first thing he feels, again, are soft fingers against his cheek, his eyes heavy with sleep, flutter open, as his brain catches with his body.

“Master Geto? Master Geto?” His eyes finally flutter open to find Nanako and Mimiko at his bedside.

He rubs at his eyes, as he stares at a ceiling for a moment, as he lets the haunting feel of your body slip from him — for a moment, he had let himself believe it was real — that you were with him, that he was still with you — all of you.

“Happy Birthday, Master Geto,” they both intone together, and his gaze slides back to find the girls’ holding a birthday cake box. He blinks a moment, before he realizes.

“Thank you both,” he sigh, sitting up, and even though he knows, he asks the question anyway, “it was left at the doorstep of the compound?”

“Yes, the same one, the one that’s always left for you,” Mimiko answers as Nanako hands him the box, and he slips off the twine and opens the box to reveal a strawberry and cream sponge cake, “I didn’t know Master Geto even liked strawberry cake,”

And he chuckles, as he stares at the cske, the residuals unbidden and clear as day who had left it — who had always left it, “I don’t but it was the favorite of two people very important to me before — you know I don’t care for sweets,”

“I thought you didn’t care for sweets made by monkeys,” Nanako said, typing on her phone, before she snaps a picture or two of the cake, “why is this an exception?”

“Because one of those special people baked it, and she’s a sorcerer,” and you always had — every year without fail. He didn’t even know how you had found him — he didn’t tend to stay in one place for too long, but you always did.

As he lifts the cske out and hands it to the girls, “go slice it up and have a piece,” he smiles, “I’ll take care of the box,” and they nod, as Mimiko takes the cake while Nanako walks out staring at her phone still.

It wasn’t the cake that he found special, but the card that was hidden at the bottom. It was nothing special — always a random card picked out with a birthday message printed on the outside — but no, what was special was the note you wrote.

My favorite treat for my favorite birthday boy — I hope you have a good birthday — with your name signed below.

His fingers twirled a strand of his hair, still far too long, as he traced your name with his finger. He hadn’t had a really good birthday — not without you.

But, he opened the drawer of his bedside table, placing the card inside with the others, at least he could dream of one.

✧ a/n: i've been hopping between my sukuna fic and prof geto 3, but i was bouncing back and forth between whether i wanted to write this or not, but i just had to for suguru - man has claimed a sweet spot. thank you to the anon who's idea i put on a spin on and @biancaness, who provided the massage idea :). this is also for @gaylatteart because their birthday is tomorrow, the day after suguru's. thank you bb for being so wonderful and congrats on doing the thing - i'm super proud of you!!

✧ taglist: @foxygemin1, @honeyangelsblog, @biancaness, @rwtard, @strangehuman101, @serendididy, @i-love-the8, @ririthedevil, @linastired, @bsaeshell, @jaceum, @going-to-californiaxx, @dontshuugo, @diogodxlot, @coffeebun17, @slikdolliy, @spider-fan72, @sophistication-as, @get0sfav, @klynne, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @heijihattorisgf, @teatreeoilll, @el172736738, @nem0philistx, @strawmariee, @mysuperrainbow

#sab [mlist]#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x reader #geto smut #geto x reader #geto x you #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x you #geto suguru fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction

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meiieiri · 7 months ago

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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐚 [gojo satoru]

synopsis: you got married to gojo satoru at the edge of a frozen lake in summer.

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader

warnings/tags: heavy angst, a love that’s TOO LITTLE TOO LATE if one can even call that a tag, unrequited love (kinda).

Marriage is a golden ring on a chain whose beginning is a single glance between two unsuspecting souls that ends with eternity.

Twelve years. You’ve loved him through twelve springs. It’s bittersweet to think how a person could give another their youth for free. But then again, the only things that you truly keep are the things you give away. That’s just life, isn’t it? And besides, you take a step towards the blue peony littered aisle with a wistful smile on your face as you picture a certain arctic-haired man standing at the other end, when it comes to matters of the heart, keeping ledgers of the love you give and the love you receive is a futile effort.

You should probably put that in your vows later. But ah, what did it matter? Satoru’s probably just gonna wing it later, arguing that expressions of love should be light-hearted and candid much like the love you share.

“Y/N-chan~!” He steps in front of you, his tall form towering over you as he catches you by the student lounge’s vending machine. Shoko smirks behind you, pulling Suguru ahead of you to leave the two of you alone. She nudges you forward and you cast her a betrayed look to which she only replies with an innocent shrug. It’s common knowledge to everyone in Tokyo Jujutsu High how you feel about the Gojo clan’s illustrious little starlet.

Well, it was common knowledge to everyone except Satoru Gojo.

And you don’t know if you find that comforting or saddening.

Comforting that he wouldn’t find out about your feelings from someone else, though you’re still working up the courage to fess up, you wholeheartedly believe that this is something he should hear from you and you alone. Saddening that maybe the reason he’s been all blissfully ignorant of how your breath becomes shallow whenever he’s around you is he’s actually already aware of your feelings towards him and he’s only deflecting it.

“We’ll go ahead, Y/N,” Shoko says in a sing-song voice, taking your cursed tool from you. “Come see me if you have any injuries!”

“But if it’s a broken heart, she probably can’t fix it,” Suguru chimes in, winking at Satoru as if to say: ‘Go talk to her.’ before turning to follow his girlfriend.

A hush falls between you and Satoru, unspoken words swirling around the two of you like a symphony of longing. Both of you seem to be saying the same thing:

Should I tell her?

Should I tell him?

What would she say?

Would he leave?

If the truth is meant to set you free, then he is your jailer. Why is he content with never uttering those words aloud? Why are you so eager to stay in the hedge maze of your mind, seeking his shadow at every corner? This was a tiring game of hide and seek.

But Satoru is completely fine with letting it drag on if it meant he’d never risk losing you.

And you were fine with that too. You were fine being a prisoner to your truth as long as he was with you in this jail cell. You were fine.

Whatever fine means.

“Wanna go to the arcade?” Satoru looks at you with a shimmering bittersweet look in his eyes.

You smile and a breathy laugh falls from your lips causing his face to light up even more.

“That depends, you gonna let me win?”

“Never.”

“Y/N! There you are.”

You turn around to see an older Shoko, her youthful bob cut having outgrown its juvenile flare. She looks out of breath, she must have run around the venue looking for you and judging from the way she keeps glancing at her watch, and the exasperated look she was throwing your way at the sight of you still in your silk robe, you needed to get moving.

But your feet remain planted in the middle of the empty aisle, your gaze trained on the arch.

“You feeling okay?” Shoko asks, her hand finding yours in a tender display of solidarity. “It’s okay to be nervous, you know.”

You flash her a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I know. Just…deep in thought.”

“Yeah.”

Weddings are always so beautiful, you think to yourself as Shoko steps back giving you some space as you contemplate the day ahead. Your fingers trace one of the satin linens adorning the trellises much like your heart traces the contours of a love too delicate to verbalize, too powerful to ignore. Your gaze dances over the elegant arrangements of blue, white and gray, the scent of grapefruit-quince adorning the air, mixing with the scent of peonies, jasmines and white musk.

Everything here speaks of the imminent union of two souls finding their way to each other. And how comforting it is to know that no matter where you wander, all paths inevitably lead to Satoru Gojo. And you have your drunk cartographer heart to thank for that.

“He loves you,” Shoko finally says, catching your wrist to bring you over to the gazebo to get touched up.

“…I know.”

You look back at the empty aisle, with all but one question in your mind.

What happens when simply knowing is no longer enough?

“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again with my sunglasses off?”

You nearly choke on your yogurt drink when you see yet another stunningly familiar light blue sticky note on your desk. Satoru fucking Gojo is going to be the death of you one day. Your touch grazes over the hastily scribbled note, a small smile playing at your lips as you take out a white pad of sticky notes from your school bag. After collecting your thoughts, you decide to play along with his little game, your heart fluttering when you realize that this back and forth could actually be considered flirting.

“There’s no such thing as love at first sight. And sorry, pretty boys like you aren’t exactly my type.”

Satoru finds the white sticky note plastered on his stool in Jujutsu Tech’s science lab. Despite the playful jab in your reply, Satoru is hyperfixated on the fact that you just called him pretty. Did you really mean it? He bites the inside of his cheek being careful not to grin too much in fear of Suguru catching wind of what’s happening — the strongest sorcerer of this generation being caught off-guard by his little crush? Detestable!

“You think I’m pretty? ;) I knew it.”

Shoko looks at you funnily, you’re practically red as a tomato with how you’re fuming from the ears and sputtering about how ridiculous Satoru is being. “He’s just so…so…!”

“You really should work on finishing your sentences now~”

You are interrupted at the sight Satoru practically hopping down the steps leading to the training field with a convenience store bag tucked under his arm and you sigh exasperatedly, turning away as if he was a bug that’s hovering over your ear that you really shouldn’t be paying attention to. All of his six foot two form plops down next to you and you jump when he presses a cold ice cream bar to your cheek.

“You’re awfully generous today, Satoru,” you smirk, accepting and lifting the ice cream bar in silent gratitude, suppressing the blush creeping onto your cheeks.

Satoru blushes himself, his hand coming up to rub the back of his head as a comfortable silence falls between the two of you. Shit, say something, Satoru thinks to himself. Was he being too obvious? Did you somehow piece it together now that he has feelings for you?

In his internal dilemma, Satoru settles for undermining the deliberate gesture.

“I only needed two more stickers to get this really neat toy,” Satoru explains, reaching into the convenience store bag and pulling out his new tamagotchi. “Pretty worth it, I would say. The one I saw in Akihabara is being sold for 7500 yen, but that’s the angelgotch variety, so I kinda get the whole roadside robbery thing.”

Of course, he steered the conversation elsewhere. You’re not even surprised at this point that he’ll always only stay at the surface when he treads these long drawn out conversations with you, too afraid to say anything more — do anything more — than what was necessary as your friend.

Keyword: friend.

He had no obligation to you other than being your friend. And you don’t blame him. You’re not angry at him that he’s only willing to stay in shallow water with you, it’s just…

“Hey, I have to go, Yaga’s calling me.” Satoru casually interrupts your train of heartbroken thoughts, but you do not miss the unease in his voice, he almost sounds sorry that he has to bail again.

But you already send him off with a reluctant thumbs up. As you look at his retreating form, he stops for a bit at the stone tori gate, his head bowed in thought, you don’t know why you held your breath. He reaches into his pocket, but thinks better of it, and he paces two hesitant steps forward.

Then, he looks back to meet your eyes from afar.

And his heart clenches in a mixture of affection and exasperation when you are the first to blushingly look away.

The ten feet separating the two of you is very reminiscent of how you began: running in opposite directions to outdo the other in your competition to see who can act that they care less, placing more distance between your flustered hearts. Satoru gazes at you as if he’s seen the divine incarnated into a single beautiful being. He wipes a tear from his eye, sniffing momentarily, watching you gracefully float down the aisle with an equally smitten expression on your features.

Clutching the bouquet in your hands, you don’t break eye contact and everything seems to unfold like a motion picture before your very eyes, your and Satoru’s life together in vivid cinematography: your first dance later tonight, your first trip out of the country together for your honeymoon, your first time, your first year, your first child. Everything. You’ve imagined Satoru to be your first in everything. And as you make your way to the aisle, tears glistening in both your orbs, you stop to meet in the middle, the two of you standing on fate’s edge together.

He casts you a look, and you offer him a melancholic smile.

This was it.

…

The doors open and his bride arrives, and you move to the side, taking your place next to Shoko, painfully leaving the space you and Satoru briefly shared, a space that was never meant for you in the first place.

Which begs the question again: what happens when knowing is no longer enough?

Or is it…the two of you never knew at all how the other felt?

No, you and Shoko watch as Satoru stares at you from his peripheral, his heart fragmenting into irreparable pieces at each step his bride makes towards him.

Should I tell her?

Should I tell him?

What would she say?

Would he leave?

The answer is clear now. He wouldn’t have left. Things were just left unsaid, never admitted — the words that you longed to hear from one another never fell from your lips. Not once in the twelve years you secretly held him in your heart. And thus, fate then decreed that love is for the brave, and not for cowardly souls like you and Satoru Gojo.

And with whatever strength you have left, uncaring if this would cause you to look scandalous: a bridesmaid going after the groom, you mouth the words: “I love you.”

A pained smile appears on his lips, an allegory to the goofy grins he used to flash you when you two were young, and he nods, tears in his eyes.

This was twelve years too late. But it’s better than never.

“I knew it.”

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augustinewrites · 2 years ago

Text

tsumiki asks the question on a rare, relaxed saturday afternoon. with both the kid’s baseball games canceled due to some heavy morning rain, the four of you were taking the time to do some much needed relaxation.

“how did you guys end up together?”

satoru lifts his head from your lap, where you’d been plucking his brows. “isn’t it obvious? it was due to my roguishly handsome good looks and sharp comedic wit.”

megumi scoffs from his spot on the armchair. “i doubt that.”

you press your cheek against your boyfriend’s shoulder, laughing. “that’s cute, babe, but do you want to tell them how it really happened? or should i?”

“i’ll tell them,” he volunteers. “because i have been in love with you a lot longer than you might think.”

_____

satoru meets you when he’s seventeen years old. (it’s a stupid age. ‘cause when you’re seventeen, you’re all hormones and ego and think the world revolves around you.)

so he doesn’t pay you much mind when yaga first introduces you to his little class, because honestly? he’d taken one look at you, fresh out of the countryside with your perfectly pressed uniform, not a hair out of place or a battle scar on your body and was extremely underwhelmed. so he’d brushed you off like lint on his sleeve, because he doubted you’d even survive the year. no point in getting to try and know you.

that same afternoon, you’d unleashed hell on him with your shikigami and almost broken his nose.

“i’m sorry,” you’d muttered when you’d forcibly accompanied him to the infirmary.

“you don’t sound sorry,” he’d huffed. his nose (and his ego) were definitely bruised.

you rolled your eyes and muttered something that was probably really mean under your breath. he’s about to tell you off when he feels blood start to drip again, cursing and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tilts his head back.

“you’re supposed to tilt your head forward,” you sigh, handing him another folded up piece of paper towel.

he doesn’t take it, glaring down at you. “why would i do that?”

shoko and geto walk behind you both, highly amused by your bickering. “they’d be good together, don’t you think?”

“if they don’t kill each other first.” the latter chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets as he eyes you both.

“if you tilt your head forward, then the blood drips out and not in–”

“why? that’s where the blood is supposed to be.”

“no, it’s not, and if you’d just let me finish what i was saying instead of interrupting me–”

it’s not the last time he interrupts you. it’s not the last time the two of you bicker or the last time he walks with you through the courtyard. days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months, and even though you’d almost broken his nose that first day, he quickly realizes that he couldn’t imagine you anywhere but with him.

_____

it’s late when he sneaks out of your room, sunset streaming through the courtyard as he peeks around the corner, on the lookout for any faculty before he dashes back to the boy’s dorm…

…only to run into geto, who’s standing outside. he feels bad for a second, because they haven’t really talked since…well, everything.

but he just flicks his cigarette, grinning in that all too knowing way of his. “what were you doing in the girl’s wing, creeper?”

“nothing,” he lies, but his cheeks are warm, there are butterflies in his stomach, and he can’t seem to stop smiling.

his best friend looks at him. really looks at him. “oh, man. you’re so obvious.”

“i’m not obvious, you’re obvious,” he retorts.

geto takes another drag before holding it out to him. gojo shakes his head. “you’re one of the smartest, yet dumbest people i know. so i’m going to help you now, because i think without guidance, you are capable of making extremely rash romantic decisions.”

“that’s not true–”

“it’s very true. like that fact that you’re in love with…” geto nods his head towards the girl’s dorm, grinning.

he tucks his chin under the collar of his jacket when he feels heat crawl up his neck, looking away. “that’s ridiculous. i’m not…it’s not like that. we’re just…hanging out.”

“really?” his friend checks. “because the way that you look at her, i mean…wow. we’ve all seen it. you look at her like you hear tiny forest animals singing whenever she walks into a room.”

satoru bristles slightly, because he’s not entirely off the mark.

(but seventeen is a stupid age, and at the time he knew he cared for you deeply, but he didn’t know he loved you yet.)

geto knows though, and just shrugs. “i know you’ll see it someday too.”

_____

“do these shoes go with my outfit?” you ask, looking over your shoulder.

gojo shrugs, hardly even glancing up from his phone. “sure.”

“you didn’t even look!”

he exhales a harsh breath, tossing his phone onto your bed as he looks up at you. “why are you trying so hard for some guy you don’t even like? i mean– have you even met him?”

“no,” you sigh, smoothing your hands over your dress. “but me meeting him is really important to my father.”

he leans back against your headboard, folding his hands behind his head. “why?”

“because a proposal from the kamo clan is a really big deal.” you startle when he sits up so fast that his glasses fall from their perch atop his head. “oh my– what’s wrong?!”

“everything about that sentence. a proposal? as in to be wed?”

“yes, gojo,” you confirm, turning back to adjust your earrings in the mirror. “i was born outside of the zen’in clan, but i have their inherited technique. my dad…all these years he’s worked hard to keep me off their radar so i wouldn’t be stuck there. so i wouldn’t be unhappy like he was. if i accept this proposal and join the kamo clan…all his hard work wouldn’t be for nothing.”

“the kamo clan,” he repeats, shaking his head. he’s not sure why he’s so annoyed. it’s hard to pinpoint the exact reason. “they’re based in kyoto. you’d– you’d have to leave.”

he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but all the unsaid things that he’s been too scared to admit to himself (and especially to you) must be written all over his face, because you hesitate before you step out the door, looking back at him hopefully.

“have fun,” is all he says instead, pretending not to notice when your expression falls. “i’ll probably be out when you get back, but just text so i know you’re alright and haven’t already been whisked off to kyoto.”

_____

“but you never joined the kamo clan,” tsumiki notes, sending you a questioning look. “why did your dad to change his mind?”

“i…actually still don’t know,” you admit, smiling softly. “he’s never told me.”

“well, whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter now. ‘cause you’re right where you’re supposed to be,” satoru grins. he presses a soft kiss to your lips, but pulls back with a laugh when the kids groan loudly. “on that note, i’m going to start cleaning up.”

megumi, who’d been silent the entire story, gets up to help, trailing after him into the kitchen.

“it was you,” he says once you and tsumiki are out of earshot.

satoru sets the stack of plates on the counter, glancing over his shoulder at him. “hm?”

“you made some kind of deal with her family, didn’t you? like you did for me.”

he doesn’t answer right away, moving leftover vegetables into a container. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

besides, that was then and this was now. he’s older and wiser and he knows that he’s loved you since he was seventeen years old.

_____

your father seems taken aback, and not just because satoru gojo was standing in his study, but because of what he was proposing. “excuse me?”

blue eyes land on a photo of you on your father’s desk. you’re cherished here. loved. letting you go must be hard, even if it’s for your own good. “you want to keep her away from the zen’in’s right? if she joins the gojo clan, we’ll make the idea of even coming near her radioactive.”

“but the only way to do that is–”

“marriage. to me, specifically,” he finishes with an easy shrug, as if he’s merely speaking about the weather. “quick, easy, simple. now you can reject the kamo clan’s proposal.”

your father is a smart man, that much is obvious. he’s kept you out of the zen’in’s grasp for years, even after news of your inherited technique had spread. there’s no way he’d turn down a deal as good as this.

“i have nothing to offer you,” he says now, expression pinched. “no dowry, or things of the like.”

“i don’t need your money,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand. “in fact, i only have three conditions.”

gojo’s three conditions

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #keeping up with the fushigojos

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suguann · 10 months ago

Text

I HOPE YOU STAY—GOJO SATORU

✎. he’d asked why your coworkers weren’t waiting outside with you—it's not safe here—at the same time you asked for a kiss. it just sort of slipped out. | wc. 2.8k+

tags. fem!reader, grinding, unprotected sex, oral sex, some mutual pining (it's implied he doesn't know how to talk to reader), there is not a world where gojo isn't rich, fwb to lovers, jealousy, gagging on how very much in love gojo is with reader and she doesn't see it, praise kink, pet names [18+ only]

masterlist

You’re not sure how it all started.

(As how all arrangements like these seem to start.)

You remember calling Gojo on a night out with your coworkers—one too many cheap vodka cranberries in your system clouding your judgment—just as he left the office for the day, asking if he could pick you up from a shady nightclub downtown.

(You’d hardly been acquaintances, and there was a long period of time where you’re sure he only tolerated you for Shoko’s sake since she’s the one who dragged you into their group of friends. You’re always the last one he acknowledges in the room, and he seems to clam up when you’re alone together.

You refused to let it get to you. Especially when you only see him a handful of times every other month or so, although less now that you’re around, and you pretend it doesn’t eat at you.)

It’s still a mystery why you called him out of everyone you know—you had to scroll through an endless amount of contacts just to find a message you sent him months ago that he left on read with the express purpose of annoying you—and even more surprising that he answered.

You didn’t know him as well as Shoko, but maybe a secret hidden part of you knew he’d help if you were in a pinch.

“Hello?”

(He might be the most infuriating human you know, but he has a voice like rich bourbon.

He’s also stupidly attractive. Beautiful, even, with his straight nose, soft-looking mouth, and thick hair that adorably curls around his ears. However, you’d never say that to his face, for his head would get too big.)

��Do you think you could give me a ride?” It was almost a miracle that your words didn’t slur.

You half expected him to hang up, but then he asked for the address, and several minutes later, he pulled up to the curb in his shiny sports car that probably cost more than everything you own combined and watched you stumble into the soft-leather passenger seat.

It should be embarrassing how long it took you to buckle your seatbelt, but then you finally got a good look at him and took note of his expensive-looking suit: his tie slightly undone, shiny watch and cuff links glinting under the passing street lights, how his hair looked like he ran one of his bear paws for hands through it several times.

You think it was the first time you realized he was as tall as he was wide.

The quintessential businessman in a three-piece suit. You understand the appeal now.

(That je ne sais quoi that makes you want something out of reach. Why your friends from college ask if he’s single when all you see is a man who never takes anything seriously.)

He’d asked why your coworkers weren’t waiting outside with you—it's not safe here—at the same time you asked for a kiss. It just sort of slipped out.

Gojo gave you a look that would have made you giggle if you weren’t serious. “What?”

“I want a kiss,” you told him again.

It was the little once-over he gave you afterward, the way he missed the exit to your street and took the one that led to his, how he kissed you until your knees were wobbly and weak, and you could barely walk to his door in your heels as he pressed small ones around your mouth while his fingers sunk into your hair.

(That. That—)

You came against his thigh—staining his Burberry suit while he whispered dirty things into your ear—right there in the hallway where anybody could see if he didn’t have the whole floor to himself.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned into your mouth once he had you in his room, his hands trailing up and down your sides until he found the zipper for your dress and tugged. "I can't believe this is really happening."

(Later, you spend a lot of time analyzing what he meant.)

You urged him toward the bed when he had the black slip of fabric pooling at your feet, dropping down to your knees in front of him, and together, you scrabbled at his pants, shoving them around his hips. You’ll never forget how hot and heavy he was in your hand that first time, how your fingers barely touched and looked so small in comparison.

There was a thick vein along the underside of his cock, and you trailed it with your tongue, going up and up until you took the slightly purpling head into your open mouth.

You kept taking more of him until you couldn’t go any further without gagging, which wasn’t far because he was big—possibly the biggest dick you’ve ever seen outside of porn—and it made you a little dizzy how quickly it robbed you of air.

“Holy shit.” He stroked your hair so softly, so sweetly, groaned things that made you preen and nuzzle into his touch. “You’re so good at this. You gonna let me cum down that throat?”

That made your belly flip—the fact that Gojo Satoru, of all people, called you good—a stone creating a current of new possibilities.

You hummed a muffled “Uh huh” and squeaked when he held your head down—the coarse hair at his pubic bone brushing against your nose—cumming down your throat in hot, heavy spurts, and you’re surprised you swallowed it all because it was a lot.

He fell back against the mattress, freeing you of his grip, arms spread wide and panting as he lay there with his eyes closed.

“Was it good?” you asked, licking away the small amount of cum that escaped the corner of your mouth.

That got him to pop his head up to look at you, a hint of something too soft on his face than you were used to from him. “Come here,” and he let you crawl into his lap.

A sigh escaped his lips as his hands hovered close to the side of your waist before letting them fall back against the mattress. “You’re trouble, you know that?” he mumbled after kissing your forehead.

(That’s how you think it started.)

~~~~~

Everything’s fine.

Perfectly fine before Gojo sits by you, casually planting himself between you and the newest member of your group of friends, Nanami. You roll your eyes at how childish he’s being, refusing to react to his blatant jealousy.

Then he inconspicuously rests his hand on your knee. You jump at first, and the few people sitting at the table with you glance at you curiously, including Gojo, who gives you a mischievous little smirk that can only mean trouble.

Again, you roll your eyes and choose to ignore whatever is going on in that lizard brain of his.

That doesn’t last long because he’s leaning across you to grab a handful of pretzels, only to lean in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he sinks back into his seat.

“You look so fucking good in this dress right now.” His voice already sounds hoarse, stretched thin—raw with want—and you inconspicuously rub your thighs together under the table. “Are you wearing what I bought you underneath? You’d show me, yeah?”

(Because he buys you things now—perfectly normal for someone you’re sleeping with who’s not your boyfriend, but maybe your friend—and sometimes you playfully call him Daddy when he has your wrists tied above your head with one of his silky ties.

And who cares if a few of your things and a toothbrush have found their way into his place? He lives closer to your job. Nobody can blame you for choosing convenience over a forty-minute ride through the subway.

Normal.)

Distantly, you’re aware that you aren’t alone, and there are several ears within earshot distance, but that doesn’t stop the little gasp that escapes past your lips.

“Satoru, knock it off.” You glance around the table to make sure no one is paying attention, your tensed shoulders relaxing a little when you find everyone too preoccupied with their own conversations.

Gojo already has acknowledged this, too.

“I bet you still taste just as sweet as you did this morning. You have no idea how much I want you. It’s making me hard just thinking about it.” At that, you peek down at his lap to find the prominent bulge pressing against his khaki pants.

“Oh?” voice soft when you finally tear your eyes away from his crotch to meet his heated gaze again.

“Mhm.”

Oh.

You can tell that he sees your walls cracking, that it would only take a few sweet words before you finally caved: “You’d let me have another taste, wouldn’t you?”

Your breath hitches because, yes, you would.

That’s how you find yourself with your thighs parted and one of your legs draped over his.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the moan threatening to escape while the rough pad of his middle finger presses small circles over the top of your panties. His fingers tease, exploring the slick seam of you and retreating when you start arching your hips up into his touch.

It feels like you can’t breathe—or perhaps you’re too fearful to find out what other noises you’d make if you did—practically choking on the torturous (because that’s what this is) pleasure you’re receiving, and you’re ready to beg. You really are. However, you aren’t prepared to face the mortifying consequences if you happen to open your mouth.

Something that sounds a lot like, please, just waiting on the tip of your tongue.

It feels like every pair of eyes at that small table are on you, but they’re none the wiser to what is currently happening beneath the party-themed tablecloth, still laughing and mingling around the yard as they celebrate Geto’s birthday.

It’s not as if it’s all that obvious, either.

Gojo is turned away from you, currently in the middle of a discussion with the birthday boy himself. You have no clue what they were talking about because you’d stopped paying attention a while ago—not that you’d be able to listen if you wanted to with Gojo’s fingers turning every spun cotton candy thought back into melted sugar.

He traces lightly over the covered seam of your lips before finally slipping under the silky material—his skilled fingers working slippery circles at the apex of your thighs—and the subtle relief forces you to swallow another moan.

“Satoru,” you warn under your breath, grabbing his wrist to stop his movements. But the feel of him patting your sticky, sensitive clit with three fingers cuts off all of your protests, forcing you to sit there and let him play with you.

Heat crawls up your neck as he explores your slick folds, the loud music, and chatter, thankfully hiding the wet sounds produced between your legs.

He does offer some mercy when he notices the slight quiver in your thighs, how they jump and jump until he stops teasing to press to fingers inside you and grind the heel of his palm into your clit. Your hips start rocking forward against his hand slightly, and you pray nobody notices because the heat spreading through your belly is almost too consuming to stop now, making you dizzy with it.

Your abs hurt from how hard they clench, and your legs shake, culminating in a slow drop just before you resurface. Gojo can probably feel it—attuned to your body after all these months—and starts moving in a steady rhythm, and—

The breath you’re about to take gets caught in your throat, fingers gripping Gojo’s wrist and the ledge of the table as you tip over the edge. Your legs tremble while you convulse onto his hand, and you have to lean into him to keep from falling out of your chair.

His fingers bring you back down, slowly, rubbing soothingly against your inner thigh as the fog gradually dissipates from your brain. And what you’d give to hear him call you his good girl at that moment—

“Hey, are you okay?” Shoko asks you from across the table. “You don’t look so good.”

All eyes turn towards you, including the smug little gleam in Gojo’s.

“Yeah,” you squeak before standing up hastily. You pull Gojo up with you, not caring that it’s the same hand covered in your sticky-wet slick. “I just remembered that I need Sa—Gojo’s help with something.”

Only a few are dumb enough to believe that lie, and you avoid the smirk Shoko gives you as she watches you practically drag Gojo toward the house.

(Because, of course, she knows.

And perhaps she’s not the only one.)

~~~~~

The tipping point in your relationship—the one that turns it from a maybe into a definite something, and not just two people who have been having sex and somewhat living together for six months—happens on a night Gojo comes home late from work.

(Exactly five minutes to eleven.)

You’re not usually the jealous type, but you’ll admit that dating someone like Gojo—rich, attractive, owns more Tom Ford suits than you have jeans, and just important enough that he has an assistant who runs said suits to the dry cleaners—can stir up some insecurities.

A more reasonable person would lay out the facts like a deck of cards: you know he’s someone’s boss’s boss, so he likely had to stay behind to fix someone else’s mess, but the proverbial chip onto the poker table comes with his new assistant.

Hinata.

A girl who’s fresh out of college and around him more hours of the day than you see him during the week, and from the few times you stopped by his office, you can tell she has a thing for him—her lack of subtlety could compete with Gojo’s nonexistent observation skills.

Much later, after you’ve slept on the softest sheets you’ve ever laid on, you’ll admit you overreacted. How you shouldn’t have thrown blankets and pillows at him from his bed for him to sleep on the couch with as soon as he walked through the front door—not to mention how you never give him a chance to explain himself and keep huffing whenever he opened his mouth.

After the second pillow (almost comically, if you weren’t so upset) hits him square in the face, he drops the blankets to grab your wrists.

“Would you stop throwing blankets at me and tell me what’s wrong?”

"Like you don't know," you hiss unhelpfully just to be difficult.

"I wouldn't be asking if I did." This time, his voice is softer when he says, "Talk to me."

"It’s your assistant."

He frowns. “My assistant…?”

“Yes, your assistant,” you huff, making an unsuccessful attempt to yank your wrists free. “She obviously has a thing for you, but you’re too thick to notice. You forgot your phone, and she answered and said you were busy...”

He probably sees the vulnerability on your face. Hears what you’re not telling him because he presses a kiss to your forehead—I’m not seeing anyone other than you—another to your mouth before he’s showing you with your thighs pressed to your chest that every piece of him (even the parts he doesn’t show to anyone else) is yours.

“You want me to send this video to her to let her know you’re the only girl I want to fuck?” he grunts, making sure his phone captures the way his cock pushes in and out of you, hissing dirtier things that only you hear—the tightest pussy he’s ever had. “Would you like that?”

“Y-yes,” you whine, fingernails digging into his hand wrapped around your throat. “Please, Toru. I want it.”

“So fucking dirty,” he growls, even though he’d do it for you anyway.

He stuffs his cock into you over and over again until you’re a twitching mess underneath him, the walls of your cunt clenching down around him as you cum with a squeak.

“There you go,” he groans into your ear, tossing his phone to the side to pin you against the mattress so he can reach that tender spot deep inside you that made you cum so hard once your foot cramped, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. “Is that what you needed? To make you cum because you’re mine? Fuck, baby—I’ll never get tired of this perfect little cunt.”

“Better not,” you whimper, eyelashes wet, squirming beneath him as he fucks you hard into the soft sheets.

“Never, sweetheart, never.” Gojo’s thrusts turn rough and brutal, almost working you into overstimulation just to prove a point. "You're my girl. The only one for me."

It's not quite an 'I love you,' but it's close.

Afterward, he pulls you between the sheets, holds you close with a hand cupping the back of your head, and asks you to stay.

“For good this time. No more leaving in the morning,” he whispers, lips grazing your cheek. “You like the walk-in closet and the clawfoot tub. We have enough room to turn the spare bedroom into an office for you because you like how sunny it gets in there during the day.”

It’s not a question, but you still say ‘I do’ because you really like how the word we sounds coming from him.

“Then…stay.”

…You say yes because it’s not as if you want to be anywhere else.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk fic

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merlucide · 1 month ago

Text

Prayers in Silk

pairings 𓇼 Highschool!Satoru x Fem!Reader (enemies to lovers type)

synopsis 𓇼 it was new years in 2006, and as the year changes, so do the hearts of two people. At the shrine on the cold new years morning, you and Satoru make your wishes, unaware that the prayer he holds is far more significant than you realize.

warnings 𓇼 light cursing, cheesy bit at the end

word-count 𓇼 2.6k

“Ehhh?! You’re seriously wearing a kimono?! In this weather!?” Gojo bafflingly exclaimed, pointing at your satin yellow kimono. “Uhh? You aren’t dressed up?!” You glare at his comment, crossing your arms. He was wearing his grey sweatpants and a his navy blue jacket, quite boring compared to your glamorous look. It was New Year’s Day and you were going to Hatsumode, which is the first shrine visit of the new year. You wanted to look nice in the presence of the Kami’s, is there something so wrong with that?

To Gojo Satoru, apparently it was. “Too much effort, and like, it’s freezing,” He retorted stuffing his hands back into his jacket. It wasn’t actively snowing, but ice ice glazed the sidewalks, and frost dusted the bamboo, creating a picturesque—albeit chilly—path to the shrine. You had originally made plans with Shoko to go to the shrines, that somehow turned into an invitation for Gojo and Geto as well. And you had no problem with that, except Gojo. He was insufferable—loud, smug, and annoyingly good at getting under your skin, and unfortunately he liked getting under yours the best.

You let out a dry sigh and rub your hands together, “Where’s Geto?” You ask, looking around for the black-haired boy. those two are like one in the same, it’s odd to catch one without the other. “They needed him for an emergency mission or something,” He answered nonchalantly. You hummed in acknowledgement, a few minutes later a ‘ding!’ went off and you pulled out your phone. A notification from ‘Shoko-tan<3’. you opened the message.

‘Hey sorry can’t meet- they dragged me in on an emergency mission. Sorry again (*´Д｀*)’

You sighed deeply through your nose and closed the lid, sliding it back into your kimono’s obi securely. Gojo’s brow raised at you slightly, an amused glint in his eyes as if he was about to comment on how “traditional” you looked, but he bit back the remark with a smirk.

You clapped your hands against your red cheeks and turned towards the frozen stone steps. “Shoko can’t come, I’m going now,” you firmly state, not sparing a glance at the snow-haired boy as you make your ways into the bamboo enclosed path. Gojo blinks a few times and trails behind eyeing you. The path to the shrine was filled of red and black torii above your heads. “Sooo, whatcha gonna ask for eh?” He drawls, blowing air into his hands. You sigh, “I don’t know yet.” “You should pray for a boyfriend, you probably won’t get one otherwise,” He smirks, head tilted towards the sky, avoiding your gaze.

You abruptly turn “Excuse me?!” You scoff, “Well for your information I was asked out multiple times in the past few months!” You glare at him, which he just sticks his tongue out tauntingly. Your dating life has always been amusing to Gojo for some reason. Always poking fun at you for not having a boyfriend yet or how you’ll end up alone or whatever nonsense he can come up with to elicit a reaction from you.

You sharply exhale and continue down the path, it was a bit busy as expected, but not nearly as busy as you thought it would be. You also went much earlier to avoid the crowd. “Well then, what are you going to ask for, hm?” You spare a quick glance to him. “Meh, I don’t care, maybe a free ticket to America. Never been,” you stare at him baffled, ‘seriously?’ you think. “..You’re going to ask… for a plane ticket?” You echo. “Yeah, never been sounds cool, besides the chicks there are super hot,” he exclaimed on the last bit. “A plane ticket? Are you serious?” You exasperatedly ask. “What? It’s a wish, isn’t it?” He grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll send you a postcard.”

“You know this is the time to ask about like— health and happiness right?”

“Duuuh, I did grow up ‘tradish’ y’know,” he replies mockingly, adjusting his glasses up. You just shrug and turn your gaze to the shrines entrance. You step underneath the temizuya, the water basin had ice on the sides of the walls, the temple keepers had already cleared the ice out, no doubt it was freezing. You took your right hand and took the ladle, scooping it and pouring the water into your left hand. ‘Oh it was freezing!’ You shudder, “You’d think they’d have like, a heater or something, ugh,” you groan, switching the ladle to your left hand and pouring it on your right. This was the purification process, it’s how you show respect and properly participate in the ritual. And as much as you want to make the Kami’s proud and honor them, this sucked ass.

You poured a little bit of water into your left, holding it up to your lips and rinse your mouth. Now’s not the time to think of germs. You swish it around a few times, then spit it to the side of the basin. Gojo chuckles behind you about who knows what, “Oh hush, it’ll be your turn soon,” you tilt the ladle upright, watching the water trickle back down into basin. Then you hand it to Gojo, who takes it and steals your place. He repeats the process with a little more complaints than you, ‘THIS IS FUCKING COLD.’ You just snicker watching him, then you continue into the shrine.

“Seriously, that sucked,” Gojo moans, stuffing his wet cold hands back into his jacket. “Shush already, be caaaaalm,” you mock, both of you walking on the side of the path, nodding at those leaving. You make it to the main shrine, it was brown and red, like most temples. this one wasn’t very big, since you didn’t go to the cities shrine, figuring that would be much more busier. It was small and modest. The concrete torii stood in front of the shrine, moss growing on the top, little komainu stood next to it, and there was little circle candles on both sides of the shrine.

You stood in front of the offering box and dropped in your five yen. Gojo repeated the action, flipping it off his thumb. You both faced the shrine, and bow deeply twice. Then clapped your hands twice, in sync, then you both tilted your head down in prayer.

You had thought deeply a few days prior of what you would ask for. Your life wasn’t perfect, but you were happy—that wasn’t what you wanted to ask for. You weren’t poor, nor were you rich, but that was fine too. What you wanted wasn’t something material. Maybe it was love, maybe it was clarity, or maybe it was just the strength to navigate the path ahead. Man, this was hard. As a jujutsu sorcerer, tomorrow is never promised. You accepted that, you knew one day you would probably die against a curse. That hit harder after your kouhai died. You don’t want anyone around you to have the same fate. You bowed your head slightly and pressed your hands tighter together. “Please let those I care about have a long and happy life… and maybe let me figure out my own along the way.”

You open you eyes and stand up, Gojo was already standing, waiting for you. You bow deeply once more and turn to face him. “So what did you end up asking for?” He asks, piercing blue eyes peeking behind his slipping glasses. You shrugged softly, “For those around me to live their lives to the fullest,” you reply, dusting off your kimono. Gojo snickers, “Gosh you really are so selfless,” He praises mockingly. You click your tongue, “Well then, what did you end up asking for, hm?” “Tickets,” “Are you serious?!” You exclaim. You seriously thought he was joking, how stupid is he. You shake your head. ‘unbelievable’.

He just gives his cheeky boyish grin he always gives you, oh how you hated that smile. You both left the main shrine, making your way to the shop booth to buy omamori. You figured you’d get one for Shoko since she couldn’t make it. You looked at the colorful options, picking up a blue omamori with written kanji, ‘protection’. You looked for one for yourself, you already asked for protection and guidance, so what charm should you get?

“Hey, what are you getting?” You ask, turning to the lanky boy. “Gotta guarantee that I stay number one,” Gojo smirks, dangling a yellow omamori, kanji reading as ‘success’. “Meh, I’ll get Suguru a ‘protection from bad luck’, sounds good enough.”

Your fingers ghosted over the pink one, lifting it up and brushing your finger pads over the lettering.

You paid for both of you, because Gojo apparently ‘forgot his wallet’, ironic since he’s fucking loaded. You put yours and Shoko’s omamori into your obi, the tassels sticking out ever so slightly. You both begin the journey out of the shrine grounds. The sun had begun to melt the frost, it hadn’t warmed up much but it still felt warmer. That was when you came face to face with the crowd, oh it’s a wonderful thing you went earlier. It was kind of ridiculous just how many people went to the shrine for Hatsumode. Gojo bends down to the shell of your ear, lowly speaking, “Good thing we got here when we did.” Groups of family and friends pooled in, squeezing against each other. You and Gojo were pushed to the very edge of the path due to the crowd, a girl passed you in a lavender and pink kimono. “See, I’m not the only person dressed up,” you boast, smirking at the boy who was wordlessly mocking your comment.

You and Gojo squeezed your way through the narrowing path, the weight of the crowd pressing in from all sides. People were pushing and shoving, their chatter creating a constant buzz in the air, but it felt oddly isolating. You were still too aware of Gojo standing just a few inches behind you, his presence impossible to ignore. You could feel the heat of his body just behind you, his breath warm against the back of your neck. It was an oddly intimate feeling, and you refused to acknowledge it.

But just as you turned to throw a glance back at him, to make sure he was still with you, someone bumped into your shoulder, pushing you backward into Gojo. You stumbled slightly, surprised by the force of the collision, but before you could step away, you realized something was different.

Gojo hadn’t moved.

In fact, his hands—his hands were now firmly holding your arms, steadying you.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a split second, everything felt oddly still. Gojo’s hands held onto your forearms, and the usual barrier,—the feeling that he was untouchable, inaccessible—had melted away. His Infinity, his usual shield, was absent in that moment.

You didn’t know if he meant to lower it, or if it was a slip-up, but his fingers lingered a little longer than necessary before he quickly pulled back, his usual smirk sliding back into place as though nothing had happened. “You fallin’ for me too?” he said nonchalantly, his tone teasing, but there was something else in his eyes—something fleeting, almost imperceptible.

You cleared your throat, trying to hide the rush of warmth in your cheeks. “Watch where you’re going, dummy,” “YOU BUMPED INTO ME?!” You rolled your eyes and continued pushing through the mess of people.

The moment passed, but it left an unspoken question hanging in the air between you two. ‘he’s so annoying’ you thought, that’s definitely what you thought.

The crowd was finally thinning out, and with a sigh of relief, you stepped through the last few groups of people, Gojo following at your side. The shrine’s path grounds were gradually clearing, and the chill in the air didn’t feel quite so biting anymore. You adjusted the fabric of your kimono, a subtle movement that caught Gojo’s eye as you did. A small piece of pink caught his attention from the edge of your obi—the tassel of your omamori peeking out.

Gojo didn’t say anything, but his gaze lingered for a moment longer than usual. That pink hue—he knew exactly what it meant. Love. The omamori meant for romance, for heart’s desires. It was so clearly sentimental that it almost made him roll his eyes. He quickly shifted his gaze away, though, as if he hadn’t seen it at all. You were probably the type to hope for something soft, something you could hold onto. He wasn’t the type to believe in things like that.

It wasn’t hard to imagine why you’d chosen it, though the thought of you wishing for something like that… It stirred something strange in him. You’d picked something soft, hopeful. Did you even realize what that said about you? You acted so tough, sharp edges and biting remarks, but this? This was something else entirely.

As you turned ahead, tucking the tassel back into the folds of your kimono, Gojo’s smirk returned, casual, but with an undercurrent of something else. His gaze softened for just a split second before he looked away again. His hands found their way into his jacket pockets, the silence stretching between you both.

“Guess we’re headed in different directions now,” Gojo said, his voice low, almost as if the words didn’t fully match the thoughts behind them. “Good luck with that wish of yours. Cya at school.”

You didn’t quite catch the weight behind his words, brushing them off as just another one of his teasing remarks. You nodded, walking ahead without a second glance.

As your figure retreated, Gojo lingered behind for a moment longer, standing at the edge of the steps, watching you as you walked away. His hand brushed against the omamori in his pocket, the action so subtle it could’ve been missed by anyone else. But to Gojo, it was something more. It was a reminder of the prayer he made, the charm he chose.

Success, yes. But there was more to it than that. The charm was supposed to symbolize the strength to keep going, to push forward. But what Gojo had truly wished for, what he had really prayed for, was simpler than that.

—He’d lied, of course—he hadn’t wished for plane tickets. That was just a convenient story to cover up the truth. He’d stood at the shrine, hands clasped loosely, head bowed just enough to make it look like he cared about decorum. But his mind had only been on one thing. On you.

He had wished for you. Not in the way your omamori was about love, no, not that. But he had prayed for the strength to keep you safe, to give you the life you deserved—the life where you didn’t have to fear the world or what it might take from you.

He had prayed for the kind of strength that would allow him to be by your side, to protect you, to ensure that no curse would ever hurt you. Maybe you didn’t realize it, but Gojo saw the way your smile lit up even in the darkest moments, the way you kept going despite everything. And he couldn’t stand the idea of you ever losing that light.

So, he held his omamori tight, fingers curling around the small charm, as a quiet breath slipped past his lips. He didn’t need to tell you what he’d really wished for. You wouldn’t understand. But in that moment, Gojo made a promise to himself: he would do whatever it took to make sure your life, your happiness, was something that could never be taken from you.

You may have prayed for the happiness of others, but Gojo? He prayed for yours—and for the chance to be the one who made it possible.

I have 4 things to say:

This rlly tested my Japanese culture knowledge 😭🙏

I got excited writing this bc there’s a chance I can go back to Japan in a year or two!!

this was mostly proofread but shit probably doesn’t make all sense 😭

oh my gosh editing the colors took forever HELPP

feedback + Reblogs appreciated pls! :)

made November 27th 2024 (I’m excited for Christmas season okay??)

250 notes · View notes

4unnyr0se · 7 months ago

Text

❥ life of the party | suguru geto

warnings: fem! reader, college au! geto, frat boy! geto, alcohol consumption, marijuana use, sex while high, protected sex, geto is a gentlemen in the streets and a freak in the sheets, needy geto, cunnilingus, rough sex, mating press, degredation, sadist geto mention, geto is a top, shoko, gojo, nananmi, haibara, mei mei, and utahime mentioned, proofread, b99 mention, this is absolute filth

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 5.4k

100 follower special - i love you all so much <3

did i name this after a song by the weekend? yes i did

Being a homebody had its perks. You didn’t have to go anywhere you didn’t want to, and all of your stuff was in one place, always within arms' reach. Your remote? On the nightstand. Boom, that was your source of entertainment for the night. Who needed to out when you could binge Brooklyn Nine-Nine? Not you, that’s who.

Introversion also came with being a homebody, like a buy-one-get-one deal. You were known for being quiet, always sitting in the back of the lecture hall with one earphone in, diligently taking notes that your classmates always asked to copy after the lecture. You never understood why people paid so much to party at university; why not just get the degree? Stay quiet, do your work, get that piece of paper, make bank. You thought that was a good life goal.

But when your best friend Shoko begged and pleaded with you to come along to a frat party that Kappa Alpha Psi was having, you really couldn’t turn her down, especially since she had sent you all her biology notes when you were out sick for a week due to allergies. So when she showed up at your university apartment with a revealing dress in one hand and a bottle of Smirnoff in the other, you begrudgingly accepted.

“So, what are frat parties like? You’ve been to what, two?” you asked, pulling down the hem of your dress. It was Shoko’s from a couple of years ago, and it fits you perfectly; the black fabric hugged all your curves in all the right places. “They’re probably loud. Should I have brought my headphones? Let’s go back and get them.” Shoko tutted at you and grabbed your wrist, pulling you beside her. Despite your reservations, a curiosity ignited within you, pushing you forward.

“You have got to relax; you’ll be fine.” your best friend assured you, taking the cigarette from her glossed lips. “And yeah, they’re loud, but all parties are loud. That’s why they’re parties and not get-togethers.” Shoko smirked and flicked off the Smirnoff cap with her finger, the plastic barrier flying onto the grass of the frat house. “Well, we’re here. Are you ready to get shitfaced?” she didn’t even wait for you to respond, taking the vodka to her lips and taking a greedy sip.

“Wow, you seriously wanna get drunk,” you pointed out, an eyebrow raised in concern for your dearest friend. “Am I gonna have to hold your hair back like last time?”

“Definitely,” Shoko giggled, dragging you inside the bustling house. You observed the red solo cups that littered the front lawn, which raised many questions in your already racing mind. Were the members of Kappa Alpha Psi so disrespectful that they didn’t even bother to take care of their own house? What if they were mean or even creepy towards you? Oh god, you felt yourself panic as the door closed behind the two of you, the stains on the wood not relaxing you in the slightest.

Shoko could feel your heartbeat increase and pulled you aside, cupping your cheek in assurance. “Hey, relax,” she reasoned softly, rubbing her soft thumb up and down your cheekbone. It reminded you of the time when there was a rumor going around that the two of you were lesbians, and it wasn’t entirely wrong. Shoko was a lesbian, and her girlfriend Utahime belonged to a charity sorority at another university. “You’ll be alright. Some of these guys are my friends.”

You groaned and shifted your feet, finding your high heels too uncomfortable. “Seriously, you’re friends with some of these clowns?” your eyes landed on a man in your English class hanging off the railing, screaming about how he was king of the world. What was his name again, Haibara? “Is…is that one gonna be okay?” you pointed to his flushed face, no doubt caused by the ridiculous amount of alcohol available for consumption.

“What, Haibara? He’ll be fine, I think he’s always like this. Poor fella, kind of stupid, too. But that's why he’s a frat guy.” Shoko shrugged her exposed shoulders and walked with you to a living area, luckily finding a seat that didn’t have people making out on it. She picked up a half-drunk beer bottle and placed it in your hand, taking another puff of her cigarette.

“Uh, no thanks. I don’t know whose mouth has been on this,” you refused, placing the bottle back on the table. Your lungs inhaled the cigarette smoke, irritating your throat. “Fuck, why do you keep insisting on smoking cigarettes? Just vape like a normal person.” your hands waved away the smoke from your face.

Shoko opened her mouth to speak, smiling as she gazed at someone standing behind you. You turned around in curiosity, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh my god, Geto! I had no idea you went to these parties.” Shoko stood up to hug her friend, the height difference between them being hilarious. “Hey, this is my buddy Suguru. He’s a frat member, but he doesn’t go to any of the parties. How weird is that?” she giggled, clearly drunk from the vodka.

Geto patted Shoko on her shoulder, only touching the clothed part. “I just came back for my beer,” he pointed to the table, referring to the half-empty bottle. “I forgot I left it down here, and then the party started. I figured I would get it now before someone decided it was theirs.

Shoko turned to you and grinned, her smile being so bright it could attract moths. Fuck, she definitely had an idea brewing in that head of hers. “Oh my god! You were just about to drink from that, weren’t you!” she shoved Geto onto the sofa next to you, picking up her bottle of Smirnoff. “It’s a little meet-cute, aw! You guys are so cute. Oh my god!” Shoko wouldn’t stop rambling, causing you to let out a very annoyed groan. You loved Shoko, honestly. But sometimes she was a bit much, especially when she was drunk off her ass.

“Shoko, I think…oh my god, is that Mei Mei?” you pretending to be surprised, pointing at a crowded corner. “Doesn’t she owe you some money? I don’t think she ever paid you back, y’know.” A smirk played on Geto’s lips; he knew what you were doing.

“What, where?! Oh, that bitch! I’ll fucking cut her!” Shoko angrily yelled, storming off to find the non-existent Mei Mei.

Geto leaned back into the sofa, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So, you do that when you don’t wanna deal with your friends as well?” he asked, sipping his beer.

You nodded and crossed your arms over your chest, unintentionally pushing your breasts upwards. “Yeah, all the time. I’m not proud of it, but sometimes Shoko is too much, especially when drunk.”

“Tell me about it,” he agreed, offering you a sip of his beer. You accepted it, now that you know it was his and not some creeps. “My best friend, Satoru, likes to pick fights when drunk. I do my best to break them up, but he doesn’t really like when I do that.” Geto sighed, getting tired just thinking about it. “You don’t like parties that much, do you?”

You looked up at his violet eyes, slightly spooked by his observation. “How did you know that? I’ve only just met you.”

Geto chuckled and took another sip of beer, observing how your lipgloss stained the textured brim of the glass. “I mean, you’re not even wearing your own dress and heels. That’s Shoko’s. She wore that exact outfit to a party last week.” he smirked, seemingly proud of himself.

You buried your face in your hands, almost embarrassed. Were you that easy to read, or was Geto really smart? “Yeah, I don’t really have any outfits to wear to a party. Why do women have to dress up while men wear, well, what you’re wearing? No offense.” you gestured to his casual white t-shirt and black sweatpants, contrasting with your tight black dress.

“I have no idea. Maybe people feel the need to impress us? I don’t see the appeal, I’m afraid.” Geto smiled at you, standing up and offering you his hand. “You look pretty uncomfortable. Do you wanna borrow some of my clothes? Sorry if I’m being too forward.” he smiled softly, a faint cherry blush dusting his pale face.

“Sure, why not?” you shrugged, taking Geto’s hand. You noticed how much larger it was than your own, how it completely engulfed your smaller hand. Geto noticed as well; the blush is growing just a tad darker. “Besides, Shoko might kill me if I get a stain on this dress. I’m 99% sure she used it to go clubbing in.” you chuckled, following Geto up the frat house stairs. It was littered with red solo cups, couples making out, and other lewd acts. You’re not sure why you were surprised; it was a frat house. Everyone at this damn party was depraved.

Weaving through the mess of bodies in the uppermost level of the frat house, Geto finally reached his room. After struggling to find the correct key to unlock his door, he let you inside and quickly locked the door.

“Um, why did you lock it?” you asked, your heartbeat quickening. Did he secretly have something absolutely sinister planned?

“So no one can come in here to fuck on my bed.” his smile was reassuring, comforting. Geto flicked on the lamp beside his neatly made bed, illuminating your two faces. His room was immaculately neat, and it was kind of gross to look at. His pillows always had a partner, and his sheets had no stains on the precious cotton (or silk?) material. There wasn’t a scuff or scratch on any of the wooden furniture, and even his fucking shoes were color-coordinated.

“The shirt might be a little big on you, sorry.” Geto handed you a spare t-shirt that had The Weeknd written on it. “I got it at a concert a while back when I went with Satoru. It was really good.” he also handed you a pair of his sweatpants, boasting the school color of navy blue. “I’ll turn around and cover my eyes, don’t worry. I can even go out in the hallway if you like.”

You were taken aback at his politeness, not expecting it from a member of such an…interesting frat. “You can just turn around. I trust you not to peak,” you assured him, shimmying out of your dress once Geto faced the wall. He was whistling in an awkward attempt to break the silence, which you found kind of adorable. The fabric of his shirt wasn’t the best quality, but it was warm and quite big on you. His sweatpants were as well; you looked like a baby penguin. Your hair was put into a very messy bun, but your eyeliner and mascara still look okay.

“You can turn around now, I’m decent.” After giving Geto permission, he turned around and uncovered his violet eyes. His gaze instantly landed on how loose his shirt was on you like it was swallowing you entirely. He’d be lying to himself if he said you didn’t look absolutely adorable because you really did look so fucking adorable. Geto was tall, so his clothes usually made anyone else drown in them, but this time, it was different. This time, he felt attracted to the person wearing his clothes. Geto found his mind spiraling, thinking why he had never seen how cute you were before. Were you just not around his side of the campus? Geto didn’t know, maybe he was overthinking this whole thing. Fuck, seeing you in his shirt made him spiral for a moment there.

“You look comfortable,” he smiled, his sleepy eyes not leaving yours. “Do you wanna watch a movie or something? To distract from the shitty music downstairs, I don’t know why I let Nanami make the soundtrack when all he puts on it is My Chemical Romance…” Geto trailed off, putting a hand on his hips. His fingernails were painted black, which you thought was cute.

“Yeah, I’m down for a movie. What did you have in mind?” you sat down on his bed, bouncing slightly on the plush mattress.

Geto sat down beside you, giving you a comfortable amount of space. “Hm, wanna watch a horror movie? I know a trick that will turn everything the villain does into something funny.” he looked at you, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

You titled your head to the side and gave him a quizzical look. “Such as?”

Geto reached across your body, accidentally staring at your clothed chest for a second. He opened his bedside table and pulled out an expensive-looking dab pen.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker, Geto,” you smirked, leaning closer to look at the device better. “This doesn’t look cheap either; it’s got a battery and everything. Damn.”

Geto chuckled and clicked the pen on as the movie’s intro credits played. “I take it you know your stuff?” He held the pen to his lips, not taking a hit just yet.

You shrugged and pretended to brush your hair over your shoulders. “Maybe I’m just that smart,” you playfully wink, giggling. “Nah, I’m messing with you. My freshmen-year roommate was a pretty heavy smoker, so I got a good look at her supplies. I’ve smoked before.” You took the pen from his hand, clicked the button on the side, and took a minor hit. The vapor filled your lungs and came through your nose, causing you to cough a little. “Holy fuck, you have strong weed.”

Geto chuckled at your coughing, rubbing your neck. He took a hit of the pen, barely coughing at all. “Yeah, well, I like to relax. Keeps me sane, y’know? In this house, you gotta have your vices, or you might lose your mind.”

“Tell me about it,” you grumbled, looking at your feet in Shoko’s high heels. Why were you wearing heels to a frat party? Ugh, Shoko always managed to talk you into doing stupid shit. “I smoked a lot in high school, but that was mainly because of the academic pressure. I was an honor roll student and am now on the dean's list. Go figure, right? Huge fucking nerd over here.” you pointed to yourself and laughed, eyebrows furrowed.

Geto rolled his eyes and swatted your hands down, giving you a stern look. “Don’t put yourself down like that, not ever. Being a nerd is a good thing.” He gestured to his door, the only barricade from the chaos outside. “Eventually, the idiots out there will work for you. That’s gotta mean something, right?”

“Hell yeah,” you high-fived him, blushing at the contact. Once again, you were staring at how much larger his hands were than yours. In fact, all of him was larger than yourself. “All those assholes will work under me, just you wait and see.”

“Mm, confidence. That’s something the girl in the movie has too much of. She thinks she’ll survive,” the screen displayed a horrid image of the petite blonde girl with a bear trap encasing her rib cage, killing her instantly. “But she won’t. These things are so fucking predictable.”

You giggled as the girl’s face contorted in horror, her eyes lifeless on the small television at the end of Geto’s bed. “You were right; weed makes the deaths seem funny. Are they all idiots?” You smile at him, a loose strand of hair dangling from your bun.

Geto curled the strand of hair with his index finger and tucked it behind your ear, brushing gently on your tender cheek. “Yeah, they must all be idiots.” His voice was deep and low, mouth slightly agape. Maybe it was because he was high, but Geto was absolutely mesmerized by your beauty. How you looked fucking delectable in his clothes, in his shirt. Your lips looked so soft; would you mind if he kissed them? Just for a second, to see if they were as soft as a petal. Just for one agonizingly slow second? Fuck, Geto had never wanted anyone so badly in his entire fucking life.

“Geto, you’re staring.” You muttered, your voice falling upon deaf ears as Geto unconsciously leaned closer. “N-now, you’re getting really fucking close.” His hot breath made your skin tingle, goosebumps rising on the flesh of your exposed forearms. Your lips were parted as well, centimeters away from his own. You could see every imperfection on his face, especially the bags under his eyes, which made him even more attractive. He looked so tired, so sleepy, so ethereally handsome.

“Please,” he breathed against your lips, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. His voice was deep and desperate, breath somewhat shakey. “Please, let me kiss you, baby. You’re so pretty.”

Nodding slowly, you brought your lips to kiss so they were ghosting over each other; it was barely even a kiss. You wanted him to make the first move, to be the gentlemen he had been to you at the start of the party. “Kiss me, Geto.”

Having been given your approval, Geto pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was slow and gentle, his hands cupping your face while rubbing up and down on your cheekbones. The kiss was incredibly fragile, so very delicate. Your lips moved together in tandem, neither of you knowing if the other was okay with the intensity of the moment increasing to something a bit more depraved and desperate.

You cautiously reached up and grabbed the hair tie that held his bun in place, taking it off and snapping it around your wrist. Geto’s dark hair fell onto his shoulders, creating the most beautiful display. Your hands wasted no time grabbing his locks and tangling them with your fingers, curling the strands beneath them. A spark set off in Geto, his lips becoming more aggressive with your plush ones. He pressed his body closer to yours, his hand traveling from your face to your lower back, pulling you in. They landed on the small of your waist, dipping under the fabric of your (his) t-shirt. His hands massaged gentle circles on the flesh, eliciting the cutest little squeak from your occupied mouth.

Waves after waves of arousal surged through Geto’s body, his hands now desperately squeezing into your waist. He broke the kiss, staring into your eyes as the both of you gasped for air. “Fuck, baby,” he moaned softly, attaching his lips to your sensitive neck, trailing a path of fiery kisses down to your collarbone. His teeth grazed the bone as possession took over his body, latching onto the spot right above your collarbone. Your supple skin felt absolutely lovely under his tongue, he was struggling to maintain control of his faculties. The way your face contorted in pleasure didn’t help either, angelic moans falling from your bruised lips as your hands remained tangled in his midnight strands.

You pulled Geto away from your neck, his saliva covering the bright purple hickey. You stared into his violet eyes, your face flushed and your breathing heavy. The two of you stared at each other briefly, your minds fuzzy from the kissing high. Or was it the marijuana that made you feel like you were floating?

“Geto,” you muttered, your hands adventuring to play with the hem of his shirt. “Make me feel good.”

That was all Geto needed; what he longed to hear came from your pretty mouth. He shoved you down onto the mattress with a grunt, wedging his knee between your thighs. His lips attacked your neck once more, sucking and biting and licking with a purpose. His shirt was long forgotten, tossed behind him, and landed on the television screen. Geto shifted his knee to massage your clothed core, earning him a pretty little yelp. “Yeah, you like that?” He groaned against your neck, kissing the spot behind your ear. “You want me to grind down on you more, pretty thing?” Fuck, his voice was a drug in and of itself. It was practically fucking dripping with honey.

Your hands were running up and down on his abs, your long nails causing a sensation that Geto could only hope to describe. “Please, please, Geto. Need it, please.” You whispered, grinding yourself down onto his knee, so desperate for any kind of friction you could receive.

“Do you always get this needy when you’re high, dollface?” He purred against your neck, removing the top you wore with no trouble. The light from the movie only did so much to illuminate the bra you wore, not that Geto cared much for lingerie. He was too focused on what was hiding beneath the lacy fabric. “Take this off. Fuck, I love needy girls.” He commanded, the bulge in his sweatpants growing with each passing second.

You unclasped your bra and tossed it aside, shivering as the cold air made your nipples grow hard. Geto attacked your breasts within an instant, his tongue rolling over your right breast while his hand paid careful attention to the other, the sensations not being too weak or too strong on either side. Soft moans escaped your lips, the feeling of want bubbling inside your core as Geto suckled at your chest like he was made for you. “Ngh, not too hard! M’sensitive there,” you gasped as his teeth grazed the sensitive bud, scolding him.

“Sorry princess, s’not my fault you got such pretty tits,” he chuckled, letting go of your breast with a pop. His hand trailed down your midriff, toying with the hem of the sweatpants you wore. His sweatpants. “Let’s take these off, okay? After all,” he hovered his mouth against your ear, licking the shell like a tease. “You gotta be nice and prepped so I can fuck you senseless.”

Geto peeled his sweatpants off your legs, the fabric pooling at your ankles. He lifted your legs so they rested on his strong shoulders, pulling his face closer to your aching core. He smirked at the little wet patch displayed on your panties, his nose rubbing against your clothed cunt. His teeth bit down on the thin fabric and pulled them aside, the lighting in the room doing your gorgeous pussy no favors.

“Shit, you’re soaked,” Geto whispered, his hot tongue sliding up your folds, the cutest little moan falling from your lips. His tongue drew playful circles on your throbbing clit, smirking as you whimpered and pleaded for more.

The faint screams coming from the television were long forgotten as Geto indulged himself in your core, groaning occasionally as your sweet nectar coated his tongue. It was like ambrosia to him, the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. He dipped his tongue into your welcoming entrance, swirling around oh-so-carefully. He went as deep as he could, practically burying his face in your needy cunt.

“Shit, Geto!” You cried, your nails leaving angry crescent-shaped imprints on his muscular back. Geto didn’t mind, he could just show it off later. While the rest of those idiots were getting drunk on alcohol, Geto was drunk off of you. Your everything was so intoxicating. You relished the feeling of his tongue inside of you. Was he spelling his name with his tongue? He chuckled occasionally, sending vibrations so deep inside you that it almost sent you over the edge every time.

He rhythmically plunged his tongue inside your weeping entrance, desperate to explore every single inch of you. His tongue would accidentally flick over that most sensitive spot inside of you, making you whine in pathetic delight. Geto was observant, memorizing what flicking and sucking matters made your legs tighten around his face. He teased you relentlessly, just keeping you on the verge of orgasm.

Geto nibbled on your sensitive clit, moaning as you desperately tugged on his hair. “Geto, please! Fuck, oh my God! I’m gonna cum, shit!” You sobbed, thighs trembling in agonizingly extreme euphoria.

He pulled away as soon as those words left your mouth, his face covered in your slick and his saliva. Geto winked at you and shoved his sweatpants off of his toned body, removing yours from your ankles as well. Fuck, he needed to fuck you right then and there, or it would kill him. He craved to fill you, to fuck you, to make you scream his name so everyone downstairs would know who was getting it on.

His boxers long forgotten about, Geto’s dick stood hard and eager between his legs, slapping onto his rock-hard abs. You gasped as you saw the silhouette of his cock, wishing you could be able to see it in its full glory. “Fuck, you’re huge. A-are you sure it’ll fit inside me?” You whimpered, spreading your legs as you lay in missionary.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make it fit.” Geto purred, giving you a quick kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, a sensation you never thought you would experience before today.

“Uh, do you have a condom?” you sheepishly asked, squeezing your legs together. “No offense, but I don’t know where that monster has been.”

“Relax, don’t worry,” he assured you, reaching into his nightstand drawer. Geto rummaged around briefly before pulling out a little foil square. “I’d never make you uncomfortable.” He ripped open the packet with his teeth, rolling the latex onto his cock with ease.

Geto parted your legs, pushing them into your chest so you were on display for him and him alone. He had folded you into a mating press, his cock prodding at your entrance. “God, I can’t wait to fuck you senseless.” he groaned as his tip slid inside of you, your pussy practically swallowing it whole. You gasped at the sensation, hands desperately pawing at his biceps for support. Geto slowly pushed the rest of his throbbing cock inside of your core, hissing as he felt your gummy walls contract around him. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he moaned, kissing your neck tenderly.

“S-so fucking big,” you moaned, running your hands up and down his toned arms. “Just fuck me already, please, I need it,” your voice was laced with a desperate and demanding tone, eliciting a growl from Geto’s throat.

“Good slut,” he spoke with approval, his large hands slapping the backs of your plush thighs. He pulled out just barely and then quickly slammed himself back into your sobbing core. A grunt left his lips at the sensation, a squeak emitting from yours. You felt heavenly to him, a new kind of drug he had yet to take. Everything was fucking perfect at the moment, especially how your greedy cunt took him so well. You were such a slut, his slut. So warm, so wet.

He continued to pound into you, throwing his head back slightly to his massive Adam’s apple, which was front and center. Your arousal completely coated his length, and he was able to slide in and out with ease, especially with the help of the condom. God, he filled you up so fucking good. His head was hitting that perfect spot so deep inside of you, the most forbidden fruit. Geto’s thrusts were quick, calculated, and desperate. His cock bullied its way into your core over and over again, wanton moans and cries of pleasure leaving the lips that Geto loved so much.

“God, how are you so fucking wet?” Geto grunted into your neck, his hot breath making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “Had no idea that you were such a slut, I would have just bent you over that fucking couch and had my way with you.” He slapped the back of your thighs once more, observing how you squeezed around him. “Oh, do you like being hit, pretty girl? Is that it? Y’want me to hit that pretty face of yours?” His voice was laced with a mocking tone, punctuation at the end of his sentence with a quick slap across your flushed face.

“Fuck!” you squeaked out, the bubbling feeling in your stomach returning as Geto pistoned his monster cock in and out of your wanton cunt. The way his gentle personality was ripped away the second your lips touched his made you so fucking horny, your orgasm close.

Geto smirked wickedly and pressed his body even closer to yours, finding the new angle much easier to get those lovely little screams to come out of your mouth. “Yeah, you like it when I slap you, hm? I can feel that fucking pussy milking me, fuck, that’s gonna be the death of me.” He grunted, his thrusts becoming staggered and random. His cock twitched inside of you, equally desperate to feel nirvana. “Fuck, cum with me, yeah? Wanna feel you make a mess all over my fucking cock.”

“M-mhm! Fuck!” you sobbed, fat tears running down your face. Your hand desperately massaged your clit, allowing you to fall off the edge and into euphoria finally. Your mouth opened in the silent cry, eyes squeezing shut as heaven enveloped your burning body.

“Shit!” Geto gasped, his orgasm following without giving a warning. “Fuck, fucking take it! Yeah, fucking take me!” his thrusts eased down after a moment, his hands letting go of your legs. He collapsed into your chest, giving your breast a quick kiss. “Holy shit, baby,” Geto mumbled into your sweaty skin, pushing his hair away from his sticky face. “That was the best fuck I’ve had in a long time.”

You slowly nodded and kissed his cheek, Geto’s cock still buried inside your core. You whimpered as he pulled himself out, tying the used condom off and tossing it inside a waste basket. “That was the first fuck I’ve had here,” you mumbled, massaging his scalp with your long nails.

“Oh shit, I didn’t take your virginity, right?” Geto asked, slightly panicked. You quickly shook your head, cupping the left side of his blushing face.

“No, don’t worry. I’m not a virgin. I just haven’t had sex with anybody on campus. Until now.”

“Oh, thank fucking God.” Geto sighed in relief, sitting up against the headboard. He wrapped his arm around you, kissing the top of your forehead. “Still, that was one hell of a ride.”

“Yeah, it was fucking amazing. You know I’ve never had a vaginal orgasm before that?” you giggled, leaning up to peck his lips. Your gaze turned to the television, noticing that the end credits were playing. “Damn, guess we missed the movie.”

“How tragic,” Geto spoke with mock sorrow, pulling you closer to him. “I guess you’ll just have to come to see me so we can rewatch it.” He smirked, trailing his fingers up and down your back.

You laughed and kissed his cheek again, rolling out of the bed. “I’d be more than happy to,” you bent down to pick up the clothes he lent you, earning you a swift slap on your ass. “Hey!” you grunted, turning to see Geto looking very pleased with himself.

“I did absolutely nothing wrong,” he teased, crossing his arms over his pectorals. “Keep the clothes, they look better on you anyway.”

You smiled and nodded, butterflies filling your stomach. “Can I wear them next time I come over?”

“I insist,” he got up from his bed, kissing your head. “I usually only do one-night-stands…but you’re different. I like that.”

“Man, stop with this flattery. You already fucked me,” you sighed, pretending to be annoyed with Geto. As soon as you were dressed, your hand hovered over the doorknob before it started rattling frantically.

“Yo, are you in there, girl? We gotta go, Haibara barfed on my shoes!” Shoko’s voice was incredibly loud and slurred, no different from usual. “They were my good shoes, too, that fucking dickhead!”

Geto laughed as you facepalmed, shooting him a look of disappointment. “Well, I should probably go. Do you want my number or something?” you bent down again to pick up Shoko’s dress and heels, making sure not to forget them.

“Please,” Geto handed you his phone, smiling to himself.

“There you go, put whatever name you want,” you unlocked the door and winked, licking your bottom lip. “Text me whenever you wanna see the rest of that movie.” you closed the door behind you and grabbed a very drunk Shoko’s hand, leading her downstairs and out the door.

Geto sighed and sat on his bed, reaching behind his back to run his fingers over the scratches you had left. A ghost of a smile touched his lips, looking at your phone number on his screen.

Maybe frat parties didn’t totally suck after all.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #geto suguru #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #geto smut #geto suguru smut #suguru geto x y/n

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luna0713hunter · 7 months ago

Text

Suguru is a great cook.

You knew your boyfriend was capable of cooking just fine;after all,he survived all his days alongside Gojo,and didn't die from eating only sweets and junk. You'd even heard Shoko mention it offhandedly once.

"Suguru's alright i guess," she had said as she took a long drag of her cigarette, "i think he's improving too. But again, compared to that other idiot, anyone's a great cook."

And that was it. And although you guys have been going out for some time now, it had never crossed your mind to ask your boyfriend to cook for you. And even though you knew Suguru's good at everything he does,you never even guessed he'll be this good.

So he when one night,after a particularly rough mission which has your body sore,and a pained hiss escaping your lips everytime you make a sudden move,you find yourself being carried inside Suguru's small apartment. And if you were in your right mind;and not high on the painkillers Shoko had given you,you would've gotten slightly flustered,just like you always do when you go to his house.

But you're not in your right mind,and your body screams in pain when he settles you gently on the couch;pulling the comforter up your shoulders. Suguru rests his hands on his hips,and upon a full glance at you,he lets out a heavy sigh.

He looks worried; guilty that he wasn't there to help you.

"honey," you call weakly, fidgeting with the loose strand of the comforter and trying for a faint smile, "I'm alright. Please don't make that face."

Sugura sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"you know i hate it when you get hurt."

"but you saved me, didn't you?"

And by the way he clenches his jaw,you know what he's thinking.

I was late.

"hey," you call out with a smile;eyes softening upon seeing his troubled face, "how about you cook me dinner then?"

Because that's how Suguru Geto is;caring and protective. His love is like a gentle river; soothing and calm. And you know if you dont let him do something for you tonight,he might as well forget all about sleeping for a few nights.

So you shift, trying to hide your wince and give him a sweet smile.

"i want dessert too!"

At that,Suguru finally chuckles and nods his head;his face has relaxed slightly and his eyes look calmer.

"alright, darling," he leans foward to fix the blanket around your shoulders; dropping a loving kiss to your forehead, "whatever my baby wants."

So you get comfortable while Suguru busies himself in the kitchen. The TV is showing some kind of competition show,and after half an hour, you find yourself dozing off; probably the painkillers Shoko had given you were starting to kick in. And between the gentle humming of your boyfriend,and the way his scent engulfs you,your eyelids become heavier and your breath starts to even out

You don't know how much time has passed,but you flutter your eyes open,and watch Suguru brushing your hair out of your eyes with a gentle smile. His hair is out of his usual bun,and he looks so soft in his simple white t-shirts and sweatpants. Still dazed from sleep,you reach out and brush your fingers against his high cheekbones.

"hey pretty," his voice is soothing, gentle;as if he's afraid to startle you awake, "dinner's ready."

And when he sits down next to you, holding the spoon out in front of your mouth,you dont bother to keep your eyes open anymore.

That is,until you taste his cooking on your tongue.

Immediately,your eyes snap open,and you whip your head in his direction with blown out eyes.

"you," you swallow your bite and hold your hand in front of your mouth, "you made this?"

It must be the surprised look on face that has Suguru laughing;his eyes crinkling happily.

"that good?"

"its fucking amazing!what do you mean, 'good'?"

You open your mouth eagerly when he feeds you another spoonful,and close your eyes with a loud moan.

"oh my gosh!why have i been missing out on this?!" You give him a teasing glare, "bet you cooked alot for your boyfriend."

"first of all,dont call satoru that;it creeps the hell out me," he lightly nudges your shoulder with his;his smile the softest thing ," second of all,you never asked."

"i never knew you could cook!"

"so," he raises a brow, "you automatically thought I'm a horrible cook?"

"well,i mean,Satoru can't."

Suguru lets out a loud laugh at that.

"that's because he cant cook for the life of his. Besides,he thinks he can live longer with just sugar." He raises the spoon again,and when you giggle,he leans and kisses your full cheek, "but if you like it that much,then I'll be happy to always cook for you."

You stare at Suguru's dark eyes;his young face and sweet smile. The TV is showing some kind of commercial in the background, your body isnt hurting as much as before,and your belly is full of homemade meal. The heat coming off your boyfriend is enough to make your eyes flutter,and a happy smile settles on your lips.

You let out a content sigh,and rest your head on Suguru's shoulder.

"I'll take you up on that offer then."

And as you begin to doze off,you feel his lips pressing gently to the top of your head.

"with pleasure, princess."

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

A/n : canon world?i dunno what you're talking about <(￣︶￣)> Suguru's living healthy and happy with the people he loves and he teaches at jujutsu high with Satoru ( ꈍᴗꈍ)

#jjk x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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4nicolas · 5 months ago

Text

ROCK PAPER SCISSORS

———————————————————————————————————

satoru gojo x male reader

-you and gojo were trying to decide where to eat but he insisted you picked, obviously you didn’t care so instead suggest a game. satoru agrees but puts his own twist on it.

cw - kissing ig, they’re kinda gay, gojo is bad at flirting

wrd ct - 1600+

this was made with male reader in mind but I don’t think the gender is specified.

this takes place during the hidden inventory arc before suguru geto left.

—————————————————————————

the streets of tokyo weren’t ever this busy, I mean yeah obviously they were busy, but today as the people of japan walked the streets you and satoru can’t help but feel cramped. the two of you were practically pushed up against each other, shoulder to shoulder.

the two of you had just got back from a mission at an elementary school, easily exorcising the curses that lie dormant there scaring the children both you and gojo were starving. who knew saving people could be so tiring!

wanting to get out of the crowd gojo grabs your hand attempting to pull you somewhere secluded, which was difficult because there were not only people in front of you but also surrounding you.

you could feel gojos growing annoyance as he shimmed in between men and women with you being dragged along behind him. you could hear gojo muttering small apologies as he practically shoved these people aside.

it felt like an eternity before you made it to an empty alleyway. “oh yeah, real smart bringing us to a creepy, dark alleyway, satoru” you poked at him. “aw cmon, you’re with the strongest sorcerer, no need to worry babe.” he smiled at you, and you couldn’t help but stare at him.

you felt your cheeks warm up a bit at the stupid pet name he used even though you knew it was a joke. he used those dumb nicknames on you all the time, you should be used to it by now, right?

shaking away your thoughts you zone back into what satoru was saying. “anyway, I doubt anyone would try and mug us or shoot us or whatever criminals do.” you shrugged at him, he was probably right but still, you could never be too cautious.

gojo suddenly clapped his hands together, grabbing your attention even more as if he already didn’t have it. “now, back to the matter at hand, where do you wanna eat?”

gojo started naming places, waiting for you to say one of his listed options. he was counting on his fingers and already listed surrounding eateries. you lack of response made him look up, blinking a couple times before waving a hand in front of your face.

“hello? earth to F/N?” you looked at him before speaking, “oh I don’t really mind where we eat, you can pick.” gojo hated when people said that. you knew this but still didn’t pay any mind to it.

satoru deadpanned you. you laughed at his reaction before sighing, “no but seriously, you can choose.” uhhmmm… no? he can’t. suguru chose last time, he chose the time before that and shoko chose the time before that. so it’s your turn.

he shook his head, almost in disbelief how you forgot the turn system. “it’s your turn.” “what?” he deadpanned you again. “the TURN system. you know where we all choose on different turns. and since suguru, me and shoko have went recently, it’s you turn.” he poked your chest, satisfyed with his response.

you laughed at him, “you actually keep track of that?” satorus silly habits always made you laugh. this reminded you of the time he got mad at principal yaga for assigning a mission to you and suguru when it was “clearly his turn to go on a mission with you” suguru didn’t care what happened and yaga eventually gave in to his demands, not wanting to wind him up even more.

satoru looked offended, “uhh, obviously I keep a track of it. how else will we know whose turn it is?” he was acting like this was common knowledge. you laughed again causing satoru to bounce back, “well how would you decide, F/N?” he crossed him arms over his chest.

you looked at him, contemplating what you would do, and as if a lightbulb went off in your head you snapped. “I know. I would probably just use the classic rock paper scissors. you know, winner picks.”

satoru squinted at you, seemingly dumbfounded by your choice of words. his arms drop to his sides and sighs, exaggeratingly so. “fineeee. i guess, we can do rock paper scissors.” you were about to be shocked by how easily satoru gave in before you heard a “but,”

you raised your brow at him. “-but best to three, loser pays, winner decides, AND-“ oh boy. “-every time we draw the same sign, we have the kiss.” now you really were shocked. your eyes widened at his sentence.

while you were still unable to respond, satoru slyly smiled. enjoying your look of shock and what he thought was flustered but he wasn’t sure. instead of responding you nod, “okay, alright then, best to three.” you raised your fist to your palm and satoru grinned.

he put his hand up to his palm opposite of you before he started counting down. three. two. one. you threw out scissors and looks at satorus hand to see rock. he beat you in the first round.

the both of you went again, going on the count of three before drawing out paper. you look up, seeing satoru also had paper. before you could react satoru chuckles, “well… you agreed to the rules F/N.”

satoru steps closer, inches away from your face. you can feel your body betraying you by making your face and the tips of your ears red. satoru stood in front of you, waiting for you to initiate the kiss.

hesitantly, you moved your face even closer to his, feeling his breath on your lips before closing the distance. the kiss was very short. basically just a peck. you backed away getting even more flustered.

you tried to hide it by jokingly wiping your hands across your lips. satoru simply watches, a shit eating grin on his face at your reaction.

“I mean it wouldn’t have hurt if the kiss was longer but.. whatever!” satoru smiled at you, his eyes creasing in the corners before putting his hands back up.

“it’s still 1-0 you know.” satoru spoke slightly dragging out the ‘w’. you raised your hands back up, getting ready to play again.

three. two. one. you threw out rock, satoru had scissors. 1-1.

satoru frowned for a moment, almost disappointed in the round. you thought nothing of it and continued on.

you both got ready to play again, putting your hands up. three. two. one. you had paper, satoru had rock. you won again, 1-2.

you began to felt nervous almost expecting there to be another tie that forces you to kiss gojo. the two rounds went by fast but all you could focus on was the quick kiss you both shared.

trying to shake your thoughts away, you raised your hands up, meeting gojos. three. two. one. you drew scissors, satoru drew rock. 2-2.

satoru hadn’t spoke in the past couple rounds instead focusing on his hands. you wanted to say something but nothing came to mind, instead you did the same as him, looking directly at your hands.

three. two. one. you looked at your hand seeing paper, and nervously looked up at satorus. rock. you had won, which meant you chose and he had to pay. which satoru saw as a win, he already wanted you to choose and planned on paying.

you let out a small breath you didn’t realize you were holding, looking back up to satorus gaze. he’s staring behind you. you turn around, not seeing anything before turning back to see satoru a few inches away from you, similar to when you kissed.

you both stayed silent, simply breathing before you broke the silence. “well I guess I won.” gojo smiles, glancing at your lips. “yeah, guess so.”

you went to back away from gojo but before you could even turn your head, his hand grabs your wrist.

not expecting the contact, you jump, looking at him. “what’s up with you today, man..?” you question him in a joking manner. he stays silent, observing you.

satoru sighs, dropping his hand from your wrist, disappointment crossing his features. he puts his hands in his pockets as you stare at him.

“what’s wrong?” your voice comes out in a joking manner but you both knew it wasn’t a joke.

satoru looks you in the eyes before looking up. “nothing, just thought you would’ve gotten the hint from that, but turns out not.”

you still weren’t quite grasping what he was saying, clearly stated by your confused look.

satoru sighs even louder than before and looks back at your face. “do I really gotta spell it out for you?”

you blink, once, then twice. trying to piece together what he was saying. how he agreed to play the game if there was a chance to kiss you, the way he frowned when you didn’t tie, the way he looked at you. hell, the way he’s currently looking at you.

as if tiny cogs were turning in your brain you suddenly felt like the dumbest person alive. satoru gojo was flirting with you. in his own weird way yeah but he was still doing it.

the stupid pet names, lingering glances, constantly wanting to be around you. you understood now that gojo liked you.

still staring, satoru started to walk past you but before he could you grabbed his wrist. “thanks for making me feel even dumber than I already am satoru.” you mumble, seeing him turn to you, face still before turning into a smile at your realization.

“well, actually you figured it out faster than suguru thought you would’ve.” ignoring his words you pull him towards you, smashing your lips together.

this kiss was longer than before, way longer. it went on until the two of you had to take a breath. satorus arms wrap around you, yours finding their way from his arms to his face before shaking your head.

“did you say suguru thought I would’ve took longer to figure it out?” satoru laughed, the two of you separating before making your way out of the alleyway.

“it’s a long story, in fact we can talk about while we eat. speaking of which where are we eating?” gojos hand held yours as you walked, unsure of which direction to go in unless you named where you were going.

“oh right.”

—————————————————————————

yoo no way, nick made his first post. how crazy is that. anyway i’m having jjk brain rot rn and really wanted to write. here’s something I threw together real quick. hope someone enjoys it.

#gojo satoru x male reader #gojo x male reader #satoru x male reader #satoru gojo x male reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x male reader #jjk x reader #jjk #fanfic #idk man they’re gay #what am i doing?#i love gojo #gay #mlm

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lemonlover1110 · 1 year ago

Text

𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 1] Player Number Forty-Four

Story Masterlist - Next Chapter →

Pairing: Baseball Player!Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Tittyfucking, Oral Sex (m. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Creampie

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sitting amongst thousands of baseball fanatics makes you realize one thing: You fucking hate this sport. You don’t get the point, you don’t know what’s happening half of the time. Maybe you’re just refusing to get the point because you didn’t want to come here in the first place. You were dragged here by a friend who got some last minute tickets– She claimed she got the best possible seats for a low price, and her date canceled on her. She didn’t want to come alone, and now you’re watching the game from what you assume is a great seat.

Too bad for you, you don’t understand much of what’s happening. You’re yawning in boredom because there’s not one interesting thing catching your attention. Baseball just isn’t the sport for you, you much rather would’ve liked sitting in the stadium for any other sport. Maybe soccer or tennis.

You’re just watching Shoko sip on her beer, occasionally yelling but overall, her team seems to be doing well; you wouldn’t know if they weren’t doing well. She’s dressed just as you expected. She wears a jersey for the team that she’s supporting, the “Demon Dogs” (You found the name so fucking funny), and jeans.

“Shoko, when does the game end?” You ask, but she isn’t paying attention to you. Her eyes are staring at the pitcher that’s walking to the pitcher’s mound, and you watch her expression change. The back of her hand is slapping your collar bone, her eyes widening. Your eyebrows are furrowing as you look at her, extremely confused. “What the hell is up?”

“They’re bringing in Fushiguro.” Shoko informs you, but you have a big issue… You have no idea who Fushiguro is. You assume it’s the pitcher that spits onto the dirt as he walks to the pitcher’s mound that is outlined with a white circle. You blink slowly, getting her hand off you. You slightly shake your head, raising your eyebrows.

“I have no idea who he is.” You end up chuckling. It’s the man that’s about to pitch, you don’t know why she’s upset. The man that holds the baseball mitt is certainly a sight for sore eyes. At least from this distance. You just know that you nearly cry when his back is turned to you, leaving you to look at the number forty-four that’s on his jersey.

“He’s their best pitcher. Maybe the best pitcher in the whole league.” Shoko answers. The little hope that the team that she’s rooting for would win, is now completely gone. Her arms are crossed and her lips are now pouty. “Probably were testing the waters with a new pitcher since Fushiguro can’t play forever… But that clearly didn’t work.”

“What was even happening?” You question, and she tries to explain how awful the first pitcher was: throwing bad pitches, which kept resulting in balls– You didn’t quite grasp the concept. You were too scared to ask anyway. You watch as the man turns his body forty-five degrees, raising his left leg before he throws the ball, and your eyes widen because that’s the fastest you’ve seen a ball travel. You hear Shoko huff, probably accepting that her team is going to lose. It happens two more times until the player is finally out, and another one walks up. “I’m no genius but you were right about Fushiguro.”

“I hate him.” Shoko rolls her eyes, causing you to laugh. You certainly don’t feel the same. You throw your arm over her and then lay your head on hers.

“Why don’t you root for the better team? I think they’re selling their jerseys.” You joke, and she pushes you away. Before your conversation is over, Fushiguro has striked out another player.

“Why don’t you buy a jersey for that other team since you’re clearly rooting for them.” She says, and you’re nearly about to get up to do what she tells you. You feel awkward since you’re wearing a tank top and a push up bra, so you’ve definitely been getting stares.

“I just might.” You answer. You almost miss the moment where the batter finally hits the fast ball, if you hadn’t paid attention, Shoko wouldn’t have gotten up to catch it and she would’ve gone home with a bump and bruise on her head– Or, the more likely outcome, someone else would’ve caught it. There’s a grin on her face as the batter runs from home, goes through all bases, and returns, without a sweat, back to the home base.

She shows off the ball and hands it to you. You examine the ball before turning your attention to her. She looks smug before she tilts her head and asks, “Think you might change your mind?”

“Does your team have handsome players like Fushiguro?” You respond before you turn your attention back to the field. She taps your shoulder and then points at the player who just hit the homerun. He doesn’t look that bad, but you’re not too close so you can see him

“Don’t you think he looks good? He does have a girlfriend but–” She begins, and you roll your eyes. You block her out, watching the game at hand. You watch how Fushiguro does the same thing again, and even though you were expecting to see the ball move ridiculously fast, this time it seems like it curves. The batter hits it though, and it makes Shoko grip to her seat with a smile coming to her face. She shuts up about what she was talking about, but before the ball even hits the ground, it’s in Fushiguro’s hand. You almost laugh at how Shoko’s expression changes. She ends up sighing before saying, “Oh yeah, I was saying I wanted to fuck his girlfriend.”

“Who? Fushiguro’s?” You ask, making her click her tongue. She doesn’t bother reiterating, so you’re left clueless. You don’t care all that much either. You keep watching until Shoko’s team is on the pitching side and your Fushiguro’s team is on the batting side. You lose focus when you don’t see the man that you’re rooting for up there and batting. The man that’s pitching is the same man that Shoko was talking to you about earlier. What makes him stand out is his head of white hair. “How long is this game?”

“Why are you in a rush to leave?” Shoko sounds offended as she asks the question. You can’t even believe it because you thought you had made it obvious how you weren’t into the game at all. She doesn’t seem to pick up the cues though.

“I want him to sign the ball.” You keep it brief, and you assume that she immediately knows who it is. The same man that you’ve been talking about the past couple minutes. It amazes you how Shoko can sometimes… Completely miss the point.

“Who? Gojo?” She replies, and you exhale, holding back your laughter. You don’t even have an idea who Gojo is, but you assume it’s the pitcher, the one who hit the homerun. You shake your head.

“Fushiguro.” You answer, and she rolls her eyes.

“He didn’t even hit that ball.” She reminds you, but you so clearly don’t care. Before you can defend yourself she points to the field and informs you, “Speak of the devil, he’s coming up to bat.”

That’s what makes your eyes go to the field again, and then to the big screen that displays the field and allows you to look at the game better. Fushiguro’s brows are furrowed, his lips downturned as his eyes focus on the pitcher. You don’t care about his stance– Or maybe you do when you notice how big and muscular his arms are. Maybe you understand why people become fanatics of this boring sport because if you were to see a man like Fushiguro in every game, you’d devote yourself to the sport.

Fushiguro gets a strike, and you almost groan disappointedly. You’re not into the game enough to actually express any sort of disappointment though. If he loses, he loses. He won’t stop being hot. But the second time around, Fushiguro hits the ball and almost knocks it out of the field. It makes you turn to Shoko and ask, “Do you know what his type is?”

“Why would I keep up with that loser?” Shoko responds, and sometimes she makes it so painfully clear that she’s into women. You try to keep up with the rest of the inning, but it’s hard when all the attention isn’t on Fushiguro. You attempt to speak with Shoko but she’s focused on the game, probably praying that a miracle will happen for her team. You have a couple comments about Fushiguro but it’s best if you don’t share. They’re too vulgar to share right now.

You don’t even notice a break begin, until Shoko begins to talk more, focusing her attention on you. “I heard he’s a deadbeat. Some shit like that. He has a twelve year old son and according to the mom–”

“I don’t want a relationship with him, I just want to fuck him.” You cut her off. You really don’t want her to ruin your source of entertainment tonight. Once you know that Fushiguro is a horrible person, you won’t find him as hot while he plays. You feel ashamed for admitting that out loud so you try to correct yourself, even when Shoko knows what you mean. “I mean… I just don’t need to know all that about him.”

“Of course you– Oh my god, you’re on the kiss cam.” Shoko points out, and you look at the big screen to find yourself there, with the guy that sits next to you. He’s awkward, unsure of how to approach the situation. He looks like he wants to kiss you… But you don’t want to kiss him. Maybe it makes you shallow but you’re not kissing a random stranger because he has a great personality. He just isn’t your type.

“Save me Shoko…” You mutter, and she laughs before her hands cup your face and she pulls your head in. Her lips meet yours, and just as her tongue swipes over your bottom lip, she pulls away with a smile on her face. You end up chuckling, before thanking her.

You keep your eye on the field, watching player number forty-four closely. Fushiguro is the real star in all of this. He apparently seems to be doing well in his field, but you consider him the star simply because he looks so damn good. You keep your eye on him until the game ends.

Shoko is clearly mad at the fact that her team lost, and as the great friend that you are, you begin to comfort her until you remember your great idea. This is the only opportunity to do it, after all, you doubt that after this you’ll find Fushiguro again. This isn’t their home town, and you’re not putting yourself through the torture of sitting through another baseball game in the upcoming season just to get his signature… or well, to get him to notice you. You can comfort Shoko some other time, either way, she’s a sore loser so nothing you do will bring her spirits up.

You still have the ball in hand, and you get up from your seat and run down– Admittedly pushing some people out of the way, until the railing stops you so you can’t go further. Fushiguro is walking to the dugout, baseball mitt under his armpit, wiping the sweat on his chin with his shirt. He won’t notice you if you just stand there, especially since people are walking behind you. You yell his name as loud as you can, and it causes his eyes to dart your way. You show off the ball that’s in your hand and he walks over to you.

“Do you have a marker?” He asks, and you feel your face get warm as your brain processes the question. Of course not, you weren’t planning on getting anything signed. You bite down on your lips before you shake your head. He ends up chuckling before he yells, “Kong! Get me a marker!”

“You were really good out there.” You comment, slightly tilting your head, giving him a sweet smile. Fushiguro knows that look in your eyes– Well, he thought he did because he’s pretty sure you’re into chicks. He saw you kiss that girlfriend of yours or whatever… He can still do some harmless flirting. He smirks at you, and he’s so focused on you that he nearly misses the marker that’s being thrown at him. He opens the black marker and takes the ball from your hand.

“Really? Did you enjoy the game, pretty girl?” He licks his lips, his eyes focused on signing the ball that he has in his hand. His gaze shifts though, from the ball to your cleavage. He tries to disguise it, but it’s clear what he’s doing. You hum in response, trying your best to keep an alluring smile on your face.

“I loved watching you play.” You respond because you really don’t know what else to say. Should you ask him out? Would he reject you? He keeps looking at your cleavage so maybe he’d accept, but that also doesn’t mean anything. He probably gets asked out a lot, so it’s best if he makes the first move so you know if he’s really interested.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” He hands you the ball, and you’re hesitant before you take it. You have to say something before he leaves but you don’t know what; something that’ll really stick in his mind. You take the ball, and you’re biting your tongue, you have an idea but it isn’t prudent. You bat your eyelashes before you ask him,

“Will you sign something else?” He raises his brow until he realizes what you’re talking about. You’re pretty much shaking them right in his face… Will your girlfriend get mad or something? His eyes are on your boobs and he’s tempted. His eyes search for your girlfriend in the sea of people, and when he doesn’t see her, he shrugs.

“You sure you want me to sign your tits? It doesn’t come off easily.” He warns you.

“Do it.” You nod your head, and with that assurance, you feel the marker on your cleavage as he signs his name across your breasts. He doesn’t keep it small, he wants to make it as big as he can. He smiles when he sees the work of art, his name on your chest. You bite down on your lip before saying, “Thank you, Fushiguro.”

“Please, call me Toji.” Toji says, a smug smile on his face as he puts the cap back on the marker. Is he immoral enough to ask a woman that seems to be in a relationship out? Oh, he is. He definitely is. “Will you–”

You know what’s about to leave his lips. He’s going to ask for your number. But he knows that he just wants to fuck and for some reason his conscience is telling him not to ruin a perfect relationship just for an hour or two. Since when did he become a good human being? You’re clearly throwing yourself at him, for fuck’s sake, he just signed your boobs.

You tilt your head, “Will I what?”

“Will you tell your girlfriend to root for the better team?” He ends up saying, and the word doesn’t fully process in your head. Before you can get a word in, he’s walking back to the dugout and it hits you. Does he mean girlfriend as in your romantic partner or your friend?

“I’m convinced that he would’ve asked me out if I hadn’t kissed Shoko.” You tell your friends, who aren’t all that interested in what you have to say. Shoko invited you out to a bar along with another mutual friend, and the date that canceled on her. The woman probably feels awkward as you keep babbling on how you kissed Shoko. Admittedly, you’re not attracted to each but it’s still awkward to hear about how your date kissed someone else.

“He’s not all that great anyway. Maybe you could try to hook up with Gojo so I can–” Shoko begins and when her eyes land on her date, she shuts her mouth. She chugs half of her drink, wiping her mouth when the glass hits the table again. “Move on, drink something and–”

“And?” You ask when Shoko stops in the middle of her sentence. She’s glaring at the entrance of the place, and it makes you turn. She’s gripping her bottle, asking what the hell they’re here. You realize that this is your chance.

A couple days after you last saw Toji, he walks inside the bar with three other friends… Or teammates, you’re not sure which word describes their relationship better. You smile at your friends before saying, “Maybe the universe has other plans for me.”

“You’re not going there.” Shoko sounds clearly annoyed. She can’t believe how you’re a traitor. You want to flirt with Fushiguro even though she’s a fan of the opposing team? You’re not much of a friend. “He’s a whore. If you sleep with him, he’ll give you a disease.”

“There’s always treatments.” You’re saying under your breath as you stand up. You smooth out your skirt before walking toward the man who wears a navy blue sweater and jeans. You won’t lie, you like the baseball uniform better but he still manages to look so good in his outfit. You’re not exactly sure how to approach him, so you tap his shoulder, causing him to turn around to find you with a sweet smile on your glossy lips. He smiles back at you.

“Nice to see you here, pretty girl.” Toji’s words make you feel as if you’ve known him for an eternity. It makes your face warm. The people who he came with are also looking at you. “She’s the girl I was telling you guys about.”

“The lesbian?” A short woman with long dark hair speaks up, asking the same question that everyone in the group has. When Toji nods, you chuckle. They end up walking away, the short woman intertwining her fingers with the blond man’s that accompanies them. You recall seeing him, he’s a catcher in Toji’s team. They’re gone before you can correct them.

“I’m not a lesbian.” You tell Toji, and he raises his brows as a smirk comes to his lips. He throws his arm over your shoulder and instead of going to the booth that his friends are at, he heads to an empty booth. You take a seat across from each other, and you ask him, “Care for a drink?”

“As long as you’re buying.” Toji jokes, and you end up laughing. He clears his throat before saying, “I’m going to get a glass of water, do you care for anything?”

“I’m good, thank you.” You respond, and you watch him walk to the bar to get himself a drink. You wonder why he’s sticking with water, but it’s not that hard to decipher that he’s probably the designated driver for the night. The more you think about it, the more special you feel. He came here to spend time with his friends, yet he sat down with you.

It’s clear he wants a hookup, and he didn’t do anything at the stadium because he thought you were a lesbian; you find it ridiculous though, considering he signed your tits. He sits back down and you smile at him. He takes a sip of the water before he asks the inevitable, “Was that your girlfriend? The woman you kissed?”

“We’re just friends. Friends kiss sometimes.” You answer, and he purses his lips, wondering if that’s true for girls. Certainly not true for him and his friends. While he stays quiet, you add, “Kiss cam landed on me, there was an ugly guy next to me so I asked Shoko to help.”

Toji would judge, but he gets it. He wouldn’t kiss an ugly girl even if she had a great personality– He doesn’t know when he became so shallow, he wasn’t always like this. But that doesn’t matter anyway since the woman that sits across from him is anything but ugly.

“Nice to know you’re into men. Only reason I didn’t steal you after the game was because I thought that was your girlfriend back there.” He shares, and you end up laughing. You could gather that by the way he reacted when he saw you, but it’s nice to hear him actually say it. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

You introduce yourself to him. He makes sure to compliment your name, a comment that’s insignificant so you don’t pay much attention to it. You still mutter a thank you. He then asks a question that leaves you confused, “So what do I have to do so you become a mako shark fan?”

“A what?” You almost burst out laughing when you hear that. When did baseball team names become so ridiculous? You’re laughing as you respond, “Is that the name of your team?”

“Yeah…” He awkwardly responds, trying to laugh it off. He scratches the back of his neck, and he swears it’s the first time that he feels embarrassed about the team that brings him so much money each year. “I take it you’re not a fan of the team.”

“Nor the sport. My friend was the one that dragged me.” You share. It makes Toji feel better, less insignificant. You bite down on your bottom lip before you blink a couple times and you ask him, “Maybe you could… Explain the game to me, maybe it’ll get me interested.”

“I know that trick, in the end you won’t care and I’ll waste my words.” He replies, and you find yourself laughing more. You end up nodding, agreeing in response. You just want him to engage in a conversation, and the only subject that crossed your mind was baseball. “Tell me about… Did you grow up here?”

“I’ve lived here for the past ten years so… Yes but no.” You wonder why he’s keeping up the conversation. Shoko acts as if he’s the biggest whore in the world but he’s trying to engage in a conversation with you when it’s clear that you want to go back to his hotel. “How about you… Did you grow up in whatever city–”

“Yeah.” He answers. His eyes glance at his friends for a moment, they don’t seem to be having too much fun, so he’s glad he’s with you. He ends up rolling his eyes before he comments, “I have to drive those idiots home later.”

“Did you offer to be the designated driver or did they give the role to you?”

“I don’t really drink so… They just brought me along. Kind of rude though, I had other plans.” He responds, yet he smirks when he looks at you. “I’m glad I’m here though… What do you do anyway?”

“Real estate agent, nothing too fun.” You reply. “Just trying to convince people into buying houses and whatnot.”

“Is that your dream job?” He questions, and your eyes widen a bit. Your eyebrows then come together, your lips pursing as you try to think about the question. You don’t really have a dream job, and you’ve never really thought about it. Other than,

“I don’t know. Maybe a housewife.” You end up shrugging. “How about you? Is being a baseball player your dream job?”

“Yeah… I guess. Never really thought about it.” And before you can dwell on the subject, he clears his throat and asks, “Anyway, I assume you know your way around the city. Would you care to be my tour guide tomorrow?”

“You’re lucky I have the day off.”

“Is that a yes?” Toji asks, and you hum in response. Around this moment he’d suggest going back to the hotel, but he has to stick around for his teammates. Luckily enough, he can see you again tomorrow. God, he just wishes he could ditch them. “So… Let’s say I wanted to buy a house around here.”

“Ew, why would you?” You end up laughing, and he laughs along with you. You reach into your purse to grab a business card. You slide it to him, and he inspects it when it’s in his hands. “That’s my work phone, but if you have a pen I can write my cell number.”

“Don’t you have a pen in your purse?” He responds, and you click your tongue.

“I wouldn’t ask you if I had one, would I?” You tell him, and his cheeks turn slightly pink. Of course you don’t, why would you ask for a pen if you had one. He excuses himself for a moment and stands up from his chair, running to the booth that his teammates are in. The same man that tossed him a marker in the game, is not handing him a pen. For that moment you feel special, although it isn’t much effort to stand up and ask for a pen but some people wouldn’t even try. You can also just put your number in his phone, but the idea doesn’t cross your mind until he’s back with the pen.

“What’s your number?” He asks, more than ready to write it down on the card.

“I can also put it in your phone…” You suggest, and he ends up laughing as he pulls out his phone. You’re dumbfounded when you see his old phone– You weren’t sure if they still made phones that flipped, but he’s proved you wrong. “Do they not pay you enough?”

“You won’t believe it. I tried to buy a third house but they weren’t paying me enough.” He shakes his head disappointedly, flipping the phone open, opening the phone app and then handing it to you. You take it and type in your number. “I don’t see the point in getting a new phone. I just need to call a couple people and that’s it.”

“Do you know what a computer is?” You respond as you give him back the phone. He ends up shaking his head, obviously joking. “How old are you anyway? I hope that’s not rude.”

“Twenty– Thirty-something years old. Near my forties.” He answers, not wanting to give specifics to not scare you off; of course, you can just look it up. “I know it’s rude to ask a lady her age but how old are you? It’s only fair for me to ask.”

“Not telling you.” You say, and he cocks his eyebrow. A laugh escapes his lips before he jokes,

“What? Are you a granny that manages to look young?” He jokes, and you nod in response, a smile on your lips. You haven’t talked much but you feel like you’re clicking with him. There’s a foolish smile on your face, a laugh leaving your lips every time he makes a dumb joke.

“So um… I can’t really give you what you’re looking for tonight.” He brings up after ten minutes of chatter. You slightly tilt your head.

“And what exactly am I looking for?” You question, and you swear there’s a sparkle in his eyes. This isn’t the first time this has happened to him, but he enjoys your presence. He likes the way you put your hand over your chest and you dramatically gasp before you tell him, “Are you suggesting I want to–”

“We both know you want to.” He cuts you off, and he isn’t exactly wrong. The only reason you approached him was to hook up with him– You’ll admit that you enjoy the conversation. “Do you want to join my friends?”

“Well… I’m enjoying this time alone with you, but if you want to join them.” You answer. He glances at them for a moment before looking back at you. He lightly shakes his head,

“Maybe some other time. Tell me more about you.”

Nothing ends up happening that night, but it’s fine because you agreed to meet up the next day. He tells you the hotel that he’s staying at, and you plan on meeting at the coffee shop that’s across the hotel. You aren’t an early riser nor do you like to be extremely early to places, but you find yourself with a coffee and a pastry almost an hour before the time that you agreed to meet up.

You’re scrolling through your phone, and you almost miss the man that walks into the coffee shop, extremely early just like you. Your eyes meet, and a smile comes to your face. If you believed in love at first sight, you’d say that’s what this is. But you aren’t in love with Toji, you just find him handsome– And you feel like you can spend hours talking to him.

“Toji.” You say. He walks over toward you, his hands in his pockets. When you’re in front of him, his eyes go straight to your chest since your dress is showing your cleavage.

“Didn’t really notice that my name isn’t on them.” He awkwardly chuckles, and it embarasses you. If you knew that you’d be here so early in the day to meet up with him, you wouldn’t have asked him to sign your breasts; on the other hand, you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your boldness. You try your best to act confident, putting on your best smile.

“You can always sign them again if you want.” It’s meant to be a joke, and he laughs, but he’s about to ask the barista to borrow the marker. You clear your throat before saying, “Anyway, you should get your coffee so we can start.”

“Yeah.” He responds before he walks to the line. You walk back to your seat, and you finish your drink and coffee before he’s ready to go. He only gets a coffee, and he gloats about how, “I got it for free. Barista knew who I was.”

“You’re so lucky. The rich get richer and poor people like me still have to pay for their coffee.” You point out lightheartedly. He chuckles as you stand up. You walk out of the coffee shop together, and you begin to walk to your first stop: the aquarium.

You’re tired since the previous night you stayed up looking up places to take him. You’re not too sure about the downtown area, you’ve only been here a couple of times. You’re determined to give him a good time so maybe when he comes back to the city, he’ll think of you.

“So where are we going?” Toji asks, following your lead. You decide to stay quiet as you continue walking. He won’t really push it, trusting your judgment. He sips on his coffee before asking, “So… Have you gotten married before?”

“No. I assume you have.” You respond, and he raises his brow. You’re not really paying to his facial expressions, so you completely miss it.

“So um… Are you trying to call me old?” He sounds offended. You bite down on your lip as you hold back a laugh. You end up humming in response– And as you do so you remember Shoko’s words. She called him a deadbeat, something along those lines. And you shouldn’t care, you try to not let it bother you. After today you doubt you’ll ever see him again. “I have been married before. Twice.”

“Don’t want to ruin the mood by talking further about it.” You tell him, not wanting to hear something that’ll possibly scare you away. Not before you have sex with him at the very least. Having sex with a celebrity is on your bucket list and you want to check that off; although you aren’t too sure if he’s considered a celebrity. You’ve never heard of him before, but you don’t keep up with sports and additionally people recognize him.

“The aquarium.” Toji doesn’t look all that surprised. He still follows, and when you’re about to pay for two tickets, he pulls out his wallet and slams his card on the counter before you can do it. He definitely makes more money than you, he will offer to pay. Especially since he wants to get into your pants. When you’re inside, you smirk,

“Maybe we’ll see a mako shark.” He ends up rolling his eyes before he laughs. His hand goes to the small of your back as you begin to walk around. He isn’t all that interested in the fishes and sea creatures but it seems like you like to look around. You’re interested in the stupid variety of fishes.

Maybe he’s entertained when he stares at the sharks. His lips are pursed together, his hands in his pockets as his eyes follow the sharks. You’re walking around, looking at all the sea life around you until you’re back next to him. You poke his arm and you keep your finger pressed on his skin as you realize just how strong he is. His eyes finally fall on you. He doesn’t know what to say. Toji feels weird… He’s known you for a day or even less, and he thinks he likes you.

It certainly isn’t love, he knows what love is. But he enjoys spending time with you, and he knows that he’ll like to have you by his side as he grows old. He doesn’t remember the last time he laughed as much as he did last night. He’s just trying to get into your pants.

Toji has a cold demeanor that a person really has to work through to get him to be nicer. He doesn’t know why he didn’t put that up with you. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t like making pretty girls work for his attention.

“So did you find your team in the water?” You joke, and it’s so fucking dumb that he laughs along. He shakes his head. He throws his arm over your shoulder and begins to walk elsewhere because the sharks have gotten boring. He hears someone call his name, and he turns to find a random kid. He excuses himself, and you watch as he takes a photo with the young fan.

The young fan is grinning and telling Toji just about anything he can think of, and your heart softens just watching Toji pay attention to the young kid. It reminds you of Shoko’s words though, and this question rises in your mind. Toji looks so sweet with the kid. When Toji finally gets to your side you ask the question that bugs your mind,

“Do you have kids?” It catches him off guard. It’s nice to know that you haven’t looked him up though. A weak smile appears on his face before he nods in response.

“I have a twelve-year-old son.” His arm is over your shoulder again, and you’re walking elsewhere. You follow his lead, just staring at his face as you wait for him to elaborate. It doesn’t seem like he will until he clears his throat and adds, “His mom has full custody.”

“Okay.” Your lips form into a thin line as you nod. You know you can’t really ask more, you’ll definitely be crossing a line that you don’t want to cross. You’re walking to a darker area, and he comes to a stop which makes you stop as well. “I hope you’re having fun.”

“I am.” He answers, and you look up at him, meeting his eyes. You have no idea why but you feel as if you’ve known him for an eternity. It’s weird considering you just met, for all you know, he means danger. He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you feel your face get warm. You stare at each other for a moment until Toji notices the jellyfish behind you, and he points at them. “That looks… Pretty.”

“It is.” You blink slowly as you take in the pretty sight. You look back at each other at the same time. He scratches the back of his neck.

“So does this count as a first date?” He asks, and you giggle.

“Yeah, I think so.” You respond. “As long as I get into your pants.”

“I don’t fuck on the first date.” He says, and he covers his mouth, his eyes widening when he notices a child walking by. He looks at the parents, “I did not mean to say that.”

“You need to watch what you say. There’s children around.” You tell him, and he scoffs.

“Fuck you.” And you pout your lips before dramatically turning.

“I guess since you don’t do the hanky panky after the first date, this date is over.” You do so more to see his reaction. You’re actually enjoying your date with him so you don’t care if you have sex or not. Your arms are crossed and your head slowly turns to see his reaction. You watch as Toji’s hands are on his knees, and he’s wiping away a tear. He silently laughs, and just watching him makes you chuckle as well.

When he calms down, he cups your face. “The hanky panky? Really?”

“Whatever you want to call it. You know what I mean.” You try your best to keep a serious face. It’s hard to. Especially when his words sound so funny even though they aren’t supposed to be. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Toji. See you on the second date.”

“You know I was joking.” He tells you, his face inching closer to yours. He isn’t going to throw in the detail that he’s leaving tomorrow and he probably won’t see you again. You’re leaning in for a kiss, and he comes to a complete stop. He’s never seeing you again after this– Maybe in a year or so but so much can happen in a year. When you realize that he’s stopped, you ask,

“Why did you–” You begin and before you finish your sentence, his lips land on yours. It’s a short but sweet kiss; you swear you hear fireworks when you feel his soft lips on yours, and you dismiss it because it’s over as fast as the kiss is.

“Is the date really over?” He asks as you gather your thoughts.

“No. It’s far from over.”

You get some lunch after and while the food was awful, you had a great time with him. You kept talking for hours until you realized the sun was setting, and that’s when you realized that you kept talking for hours. Toji offered to go back to his hotel to watch a movie since neither of you knew what else to do. You agreed, knowing that you aren’t going to watch a movie.

“So what movie do you want to–” Toji begins as you step into his hotel room, yet before he gets to finish the sentence, his hands are lifting up your dress. He’s been thinking about this all fucking– For days, he’s been thinking about fucking you ever since he signed your tits. He throws your dress elsewhere when his lips land on yours.

His tongue enters your mouth and presses against yours while his hands roam your body. He’s kissing you like he’s been waiting for this for centuries. There’s so much passion in his kiss, and your legs begin to grow weaker and weaker. You swore you had no chance when he walked away after the game, and god, you’re so fucking glad that you were wrong.

Toji’s hand unhooks your bra, and he slides it off before throwing it elsewhere, just like the dress. Toji pulls away from the kiss, and kisses down your neck. His lips feel so hot on your skin, and you’re burning up.

When he gets to your breast, he licks across the area where he signed. His thumb and index finger begin to pinch your nipple while his tongue circles your other nipple. His tongue flicks your nipple before his mouth wraps around it and he begins to suck.

“I liked them better with my name on them.” Toji says when he unlatches. He kisses your breasts until he gets to your other nipple, and he latches again. A breathy moan leaves your lips as he plays with your sensitive nipples.

“You can write your name on them again.” You tell him. His lips go to yours again and he kisses you multiple times, his hands cupping your breasts. His lips then go to your ear and he whispers,

“Let me fuck your tits, baby.” His teeth nibble on your earlobe, your hand going to the buckle of his belt and undoing it. You grow more and more desperate by the moment. You’ll let him do just about anything that he wants to do. You unbutton and pull down his pants. He completely takes them off and your hand palms his cock. God, he grows more and more impatient with each passing second. He needs some relief.

You grab his hand and you lead him to the bed before you push him down. You pull down his boxers, allowing his cock to be free, before you get on your knees. Your hand wraps around his length, and you bring your lips together to spit on it a couple times before you put his shaft in the middle of your chest. You squeeze your tits together and he bites his bottom lip, holding back a moan. You begin to move your breasts and he watches you, taking everything in him to not loudly moan into the air. He’s been waiting for this for what feels like forever.

This is better than what he imagined. How pathetic would it be for him to come fast? He hates that you’ve taken over his thoughts, even though he hasn’t even known you for a week. You’re just so fucking pretty.

“Fuck– I love your fucking tits.” He finally moans. Your head leans down and you’re licking the tip of his cock, and maybe he should’ve abandoned his drunk friends to fuck you last night; it definitely would’ve been much better than dragging too many drunk people back into a hotel room, keeping them from yelling into the streets and embarrassing themselves. It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re still here, fucking his cock with your boobs. “It’s so good.”

Your boobs keep moving up and down your boobs until his dick finally twitches, his cum making a mess. Some of it lands on your tongue, most of it on your chest. You make sure to swallow the cum that’s on your tongue, while his finger goes to your chest, gathering some of his cum before he traces his signature on your chest again.

“There we go.” He smirks as you get up from the floor. When his finger gathers his cum from your chest again, he brings it up to your lips and when you open your mouth, he shoves his fingers in. You gag on his fingers, and it sounds like music to his ears.

He takes his fingers out, your saliva coating his digits. You get up from the floor and force him to lay down on the bed. You get on top of him, knees on either side of him. Your hands go to the hem of his shirt and you begin to pull it up. He helps you get his shirt off, and you swear there’s a god in your bed. Fuck he looks good.

“You wanna ride me?” Toji asks as his fingers begin to play with your clothed cunt. You bite down your lip as you hold back a pathetic moan in your throat.

“Whatever you want.” You answer. You sound so fucking pathetic and Toji loves it. He’s loving everything about this.

“I just need you wrapped around me.” He answers as he pushes your panties to the side. You lean down, your mouth kissing his. Toji takes the opportunity to run his cock through your folds before he pushes himself inside of you. He lets you adjust to every inch of his cock.

Your hands go to his chest for support as you begin to move on his cock. Toji swears he’s in heaven when he feels you wrapped around his cock. Your pussy just feels so fucking good. This feeling is euphoric, and he swears he’ll forever remember this because god– He’s fucking moaning. He’s moaning so fucking loud too but you’re drowning it out.

“You feel so fucking good.” He can’t help but moan. His hands travel from your back to grip your ass. You’re moving back and forth on his cock, hitting that right spot that makes you feel so fucking good. He loves looking at your face, filled with pleasure that his cock gives him. He just wants to snap a picture so he can look at it.

Your movements were already slow in the beginning, they get even slower since you tire out quickly. It’s unfair that you’re doing all the work while Toji, who is an athlete that definitely has more stamina, does nothing. Toji teases you, “Tired? Already?”

“Please move, Toji.” You’re sticking out your bottom lip. He chuckles before he begins to do the work for you. You curse over and over again since his thrusts are rapid at least compared to the speed that you had set.

Your hand goes down to play with your clit. Your pussy begins to tighten around him, and he has to bite down his lip to not let out an animalistic noise. You throw your head back, arching your back as you shut your eyes, “Fuck– Love your cock.”

It’s all too much for you to handle. You stop playing with yourself when you’re near the edge.

“You’re so tight.” He says through gritted teeth. You shut your eyes, and you keep moaning his name over and over again. You have no consideration for his teammates who are on the same floor as him. You don’t care if they hear or don’t hear.

“Oh, Toji!” You loudly moan when you reach your high. He loses control, god, this is just better than everything. He’s never had something so good before. His hands go to your hips and his nails dig into the flesh.

“Need to come inside you.” He says, and you don’t care to push him away. You’re on birth control, you just need to feel his cum inside of you. So fucking bad. You’ll let him do just about anything that he wants to do with you. He’s got you in a trance ever since you met him.

“Do it, please please please.” You chant. His movements get sloppy until he finally fills you up with his cum. He keeps his cock buried inside of you until every drop of his seed is inside of you. When he pulls out, your lips repeatedly kiss his over and over again.

Your head then falls on his chest. He wraps his arms around you, and you smile as you feel his hand run up and down your back. You’re breathing in his scent, and you swear you’ve never felt so comfortable in someone else’s arms like how you feel right now.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” He speaks up, and you lift your head to look at him.

“Are you sad about it?” You ask him, and you watch him shrug. Your finger pokes his muscular chest before you tease him, “You’re sad because you’re leaving? We haven’t known each other for so long.”

“I know… And I’m not sad. Why would I be?” He responds. Your head lays back down on his chest and you’re listening to his heartbeat. “You’ve just made me feel so good. I’ve never laughed so hard, and I haven’t felt this good in ages. And I don’t feel like I can let that go. I really really like you.”

“We can always reconnect. You can fly back here.” You remind him, but he seems to have a very different idea. Very different. It makes you sit up and look at him wide eyed when he suggests,

“Let’s get married.”

1K notes · View notes

hopeluna · 10 months ago

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18+ mdni. 0.4k. drunk sex? but not actually? ya'll cum in your pants basically lol

Geto Suguru is normally a composed man. He has enough self restraint unlike a certain friend of his.

Geto Suguru is also a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. You learn that in a rather interesting way during a night out with the whole friend group. Gojo is nowhere to be seen, Shoko finding comfort in a corner to smoke, Nanami is probably taking care of a nausea induced Haibara.

The music feels muffled against your ears though you feel the thumping of it echoing in your chest. You're not sure if the increased heartbeat is because of the music, the alcohol or the lips pressed up against your neck. It all felt like a blur, one second you were downing a drink and the next you were fitted on Suguru's lap. A sloppy makeout session with no real intent.

You shiver slightly as his teeth dig and drag onto the flesh of your neck, down to your collarbone.

His hum vibrates through your skin when you call out his name in a drunk haze. "Fuck"- he groans lowly in your ear when you begin to move your hips languidly over the stretch in his pants. Suguru's hips buck more and more up as if the clothes separating you would magically burn off if you two kept at your grinding.

Plush lips pressing against yours make you moan out way too loud than you should at a public bar but you can't bring yourself to care much. Slipping your tongue into his heated mouth, he tastes like cheap liquor, you decide you like it as you run your tongue over his- teeth knocking together clumsily.

"Damn it-" Suguru calls out your name in what sounds like a plea as you roll your clothed cunt faster over his bulge "wait-wait" you squeeze your eyes shut when you feel the slowly dampening fabric of his pants against your core.

It throws you over the edge, the way he anchors his hands on your hips, his own bucking up in overstimulation.

Your head falls limply on Suguru's shoulder in exhaustion. You vaguely register him getting up, with you in his arms, passing by a disgusted-looking Shoko. You nip carelessly at his neck when you realise he's led you to a more private section of the bar.

A smile curves up your lips at the sound of a belt being opened.

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bakugoushotwife · 1 year ago

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gym partners

a/n: this was a hot hot hot request! i hope you gojhoes love it as much as i do <3

pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader

cw: pining lol, pervy gojo, scheming gojo, blowjob, mentions of oral fem receiving.

wc: 4.3

He knew exactly what he was doing. Inviting you over to work out in his private home gym after hearing you complain about the facility you had been attending since graduation. Satoru Gojo wasn’t subtle in the slightest, you were convinced he didn’t know what that meant. He’s been shamelessly flirting with you since your first meeting all those years ago in the classrooms of Jujutsu Tech, and it seemed graduating from school wouldn’t stop him from trying to impress you out of your pants. Maybe it was because you were so nice to him, never faulting him for his arrogance or annoying tendencies. It didn’t hurt that you were ridiculously beautiful, and your techniques were truly awe-inspiring. Maybe it was because despite all this, you played hard to get with him for some reason.

It was fate that made you both teachers at the same school you used to attend, for it gave him ample opportunity to pester you more. He overheard you telling Shoko about the athletic facilities being inadequate and the amount of male attention that you earned. He wasn’t so fond of the latter statement, though he knew it to be true. You were a total smokeshow, any man would be winning the lottery to cart you around on his arm, the perfect duo of insane talent and looks. He almost thinks it’s unfair until he considers that he himself is also the same way, selfishly enough. Though ever since that day, he can’t help but let his brain go wild thinking of all the ways he could make you his in his home gym, if only you’d jump on the opportunity.

Your relationship with Satoru was…complex at best. You had been friends and training partners since you met in your first year at Jujutsu Tech, seemingly the only person other than Suguru Geto who could not only withstand–but enjoy–his presence. And then Suguru was gone, so it left you as all he had. Boy was he determined to prove it, to keep you as his person for life. He was the closest thing to a friend you had, aside from Shoko now that you’ve started teaching.

There was definitely something more to the connection, at least you thought. Banter was seamless, working together on missions only showed the sorcerer world the best team imaginable, and he tirelessly worked to spend more time with you. You were only apprehensive because of your own massive crush on him. It may seem counterintuitive, especially if you think he could like you too, but you kept convincing yourself that it was your own brain playing tricks on you, making you see more to the story when there really wasn’t. He was probably trying to be friendly with you, and as badly as you wished you could have that, you know you could never settle for it. You would always selfishly desire him in more ways, not that you’re the only one. You know every man, woman, and everyone in between or outside of those definitions did a double take anytime he walked by. Anyone who’s anyone wanted him, and you would never be able to blame them. So you shot him down at every invitation to spend time together one on one, avoiding him anytime you knew that you would be alone.

So imagine your surprise when he knocks on the door of your classroom and slides inside before you can respond, just the two of you. Alone. With Satoru Gojo. You look up from your papers, your focused gaze meeting the familiar, friendly, and fiery blue gaze of the one and only strongest man alive, even with the blindfold obscuring your view of him. He grins, and you look back down at the stack of History of Jujutsu Technique assignments. He chuckles, pulling a wooden chair away from a desk and dragging it behind him as he struts to your table. The sounds of the wooden legs screech along the tile floor until you can detect his frame towering over your desk, feeling his snarky eyes burning holes into your head.

“Miss Y/N! Long time no talk. If I didn’t know any better–” He says, the amusement in his voice evident as he spins the chair around to straddle, leaning his lanky arms over the back. His blindfold kept the emotion in his eyes guarded, but his smile was bright white–and clearly teasing you. “I would think that you were avoiding your dear old pal, Satoru!”

You hum in fake confusion, looking up at him with a furrowed brow. “Avoiding you? Oh no, never. I’ve just been so busy lately. All these papers, decorating the apartment, I got a cat recently and I–”

“Started going to the gym, a little birdie named Shoko told me. She says you hate the one you go to, though. How unfortunate.” His features are as smug as ever, and you know instantly that Shoko didn’t tell him a thing. “I imagine she told me out of the kindness of her heart, for our dear friend knows that I happen to have a state of the art, top notch, extremely expensive, home gym!”

You narrow your gaze up at him. You may not be able to see his eyes through the blindfold, but you knew that he could see yours. He could see everything about you, except for emotions, thankfully. “Shoko did not tell you that I started working out.”

“No, she didn’t!” He admits without shame, leaning forward on his propped up hand, his smile unfaltering. “I just happened to overhear, but the fact remains! I can help.”

“I…work out pretty early, you know our schedule, I just don’t think I could impose.” You smile at him politely, shifting your weight in your seat. He was bringing you dangerously close to revealing the truth. You yearned for him so bad, he had to feel it. Knowing Satoru, you wouldn’t put that past him. An invitation to come to his home every day and work out was nearly too good to pass up, yet you knew that if you jumped at the chance, you wouldn’t be able to deny yourself from crossing other boundaries as well.

He tilts his head at your reasoning, his jaw tightening and the corners of his mouth twitching. “So do I, like you said, Our schedule. Really, it’s no trouble! I’m sure you’d feel safer in my home, anyway. No pervs, except for me of course.” He chuckles so boisterously that you almost think he’s genuinely joking. You start to nervously chuckle with him when he leans his chest against the chair, his face sneaking closer to yours. “I’ll even get us breakfast on the way to school. C’mon, Y/N…that’s an offer too good to refuse.”

So you don’t. You find yourself driving to Satoru’s ridiculously expensive penthouse in Tokyo on a Tuesday morning, in your best workout attire and a nervous fluttering heart. You had to admit yourself at the gate via pin, one that he bestowed upon you the other day in your classroom. The house sat atop a secluded hill, and even from the bottom of the driveway, you could see a bright light shining in these early hours of the morning. It seems that he wasn’t lying, he really did work out early. To most, it may seem a bit extraneous to work out on top of training and running missions alongside being a teacher, but it was something that cleared your head in the mornings and allowed you to take some peace in your day. Though it seemed that idea was far abandoned. You park your car and stare at the expensive home. You knew the Gojo heir was loaded, but you didn’t know it was to this extent. He told you to just come in when you arrived, so you did, even though the house was shrouded in darkness, you squinted to let your eyes adjust, gasping when the light is flicked on all of a sudden, revealing a shirtless and blindfold-less Satoru Gojo leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs. He was grinning, beefy arms folded across his well defined chest, all enticing your eyes to trail downward. You could only hope your eyes didn’t bulge from your head or that you were openly drooling at the sight of his carved out abdomen, easily sixteen indents rippling through his midsection. You had to shift your weight, thighs rubbing together without even a word.

His grin grows and his eyes shine brightly, the chlorinated-pool gaze of his zeroing in on your skimpy little outfit. Your sports bra barely contained your chest, and by the way those yoga pants got sucked into your ass…you weren’t wearing any underwear. He licked his bottom lip, pointing behind him with his thumbs. “Good morning, Y/N! Gym’s this way, I’ve been waiting for you to get started.”

“Good morning Satoru.” You gulp, approaching the staircase. You keep your eyes trained on the steps, unable to look at him for too long. He stifles his chuckle as you grow closer to him, his form partially blocking your way on the steps. He likes to make you nervous, so he doesn’t move out of your way. He stands his ground, humming excitedly when your bare skin brushes against his.

“Oh Y/N~” He coos seductively, enjoying the blush that creeps up your neck and colors your ears. “Right this way. What type of workouts do you like? We can do anything! Yoga, weight training, cardio, you name it, sweet lady.” He says, the upbeat tone of his voice making you feel like he knew something that you didn’t. He shows you into the room that was already well lit. Your eyes do bulge from your head this time, his home gym was the size of your entire home. He snickers at your reaction, strolling ahead of you and sitting on a bench press chair. He holds his arms out, as if telling you to behold the beauty. “Welcome to the Gojo Dojo.” He jokes.

You snort a little, nodding as you step into the room. “You know this is bigger than most people’s houses, right?” You ask indignantly, letting your bag fall from your shoulder and into the floor as you survey all the equipment, weights, and mats Satoru had at his disposal.

He nods proudly. “It can’t be helped, really. I give to charities!”

You giggle at his defense, shaking your head as you make your way over to a few stretching mats spread out for the two of you. He watches you of course, wondering if you were impressed by his facilities. He can’t help but admire your physique as you set your water bottle down. He hadn’t ever been so enamored before, not even when he really tried to be into other people just to stop thinking of you. You were perfect. Mind, body, and spirit. You really didn’t need to work out at all, and he certainly hoped you weren’t doing it to lose any weight…my god you were absolutely delici—

“Satoru? Did you hear me?” You ask, waving your hand in front of his face with a soft laugh.

He shakes his head. “No, I was fantasizing about how good you look.” He admits without shame, blinking his focus back to your looming frame in front of him. Even when he was sitting, you were only a few inches taller. He lets his eyes skirt over your frame, smirking without pause.

Your cheeks heat up, and you’re sure you just didn’t hear him correctly. “R-right. I was thinking I’d do some stretches,then work my core. What are you gonna do?”

He wants to say something else clever to fluster you further, but he decides to take the passive route. You should be able to feel how bad he wants you at this point, his incessant attempts to get you alone, the way he nags you at work and blows your phone up with memes and reddit posts he wanted your opinion on should all be enough aside from his very obvious flirting. Anyone else would have given up, taking you for not being interested, but Satoru knew you better than anyone. He knew that if you weren’t interested in him, you’d say so. You wouldn’t just widen your eyes and brush him off, you must think he’s joking.

Which is why he’s wanted to get you alone for so long. If only he had some one on one time with you, then he could be as bold and vulnerable as he may need to be to win you over. That would come later, for now, he had to let you complete your workout. He nods at your agenda, thinking of the next step in his own routine.

“Chest. Watch and weep.” He winks, and you quickly turn your back to him to go to your mat. He was too much for you, as anticipated. You could feel your body warm, and you knew he would see it if you turned around. What made you think you could make it through a workout session with Satoru when you could hardly stomach him being in your classroom with no supervision? He just chuckles at you. Maybe his affection was just a bit overwhelming for you, you couldn’t discern if he was messing with you or not, and didn’t want to embarrass yourself in any event. He supposes he could understand, if only you weren’t so stupid. You were the only person he held on a pedestal, the fact that you couldn’t understand how much you meant to him at this point was bordering on clinical insanity.

He stands up to put his weights on the barbell, not bothering to conceal his watching you. You could feel it, but you figured it would be more embarrassing to stop and confront him over it. So you just continue, folding in half at the hips to touch your toes. He sighs at the sight of your round ass, your poor excuse of a sports bra nearly betraying you here, your fat tits almost spilling out into the floor. He packs the 45 pound plates on, four on each side, clearing his throat loudly. He doesn’t miss the way your head snaps up, shyly averting your gaze once you realize he set a trap for you.

You lay on the mat, you start with some leg raises, tilting your head back far enough to watch Satoru lay back on the bench. He hums to himself, feeling along the bar for his best grip. Once he’s satisfied, he lifts the 405 pounds without any of the effort you’d expect to see from such a heavy weight. He hardly even grunts, though you notice the sweat start to bead on his forehead as he sets into reps. You’re not sure when your legs fall down, but you can’t help but be mesmerized. The bright lights of the room make the layer of perspiration shine, his chest and abs glistening like he’d been coated in a layer of coconut oil. You bite your lip at the sight, trying to fight the naughty thoughts raiding your consciousness right now. He does eight, ten, twelve reps at that weight before he racks it again, grinning as he senses your eyes on him. He takes about thirty seconds as a little break, deciding to show off a little for you. He starts another set, maybe forcing a few grunts to elicit a soft gasp from you. He’s sure you think he can’t hear you, but he does. He even hears the shakiness of your breath, though he denies himself the simple pleasure of looking at you.

You’re a mess, and it’s horrifically embarrassing. He hasn’t touched you, he’s hardly looked at you, and he hasn’t even done anything inherently erotic, but you can feel your slick sliding down your thighs as we speak, and your nipples are hardening under your bra, which of course doesn’t conceal a thing. You watch him lift without doing any exercise yourself, embarrassed by the way he works you up without doing a thing.

“Impressed by this strength, little thing?” He sighs out in between reps, finally racking his weights and standing up to remove them. He smirks at you, trying to pretend like you’ve been doing bicycle kicks the whole time. You’re effortlessly seducing him, just by being here and wearing that. He feels like he’s trying so hard to get your attention. Maybe this is all for naught, he thinks, wiping his face off with the towel hanging around his neck. He hadn’t even planned to work out today, mostly just wanting to be with you in every form of the word. He sighs out when you just groan out an ‘mhm!’ in response.

“Okay..well.” Satoru says, his voice still pitched to be cheerful but definitely not to the same excitement you were used to hearing. It makes you pick your head up to check what’s wrong, you’re just about to speak on it when the words die in your throat. He’s slid out of his shorts, just standing there in his Hollister underwear, the ones with the short inseams. They make everything about him look even bigger, his broad thighs and long toned legs, and of course, his massive bulge. You nearly moan just from the sight, he’s literally walking sex and rubbing it in your face. “Since you’re noticeably not impressed or into me, I’ll.. stop embarrassing myself and go get showered. I can still take you to school if you want–I owe you breakfast.”

Your eyes widen. He’s gorgeous, you’re sure you could wash your laundry on his stomach, the light coating of sweat covering his muscles made your mouth water—and what did he mean about you not being impressed or into him? Has he really been flirting with you all this time, and meaning it? You sit up quickly. “Satoru–wait.”

He stops, the panic in your voice makes hope bubble up in his gut again. He turns on his heels. “Yes, Miss Y/n?”

Now that his eyes are back on yours, you don’t know how to say what you want to say. How could you possibly put into words how bad you’ve wanted him for years, how you’ve yearned to be more than just the passing and whimsical friendship that you have. How could you tell him that you’ve desired him in your bed since the moment you met him, though how profound was that? Most people did. “I–I’m…well, I just, have…had..” You fluster again, looking down at the yoga mat you’d been laying on. He folds his arms, grinning at your bashfulness. Your confession was coming, it was on the tip of your tongue, he could feel it.

“You’ve what, baby doll? Been tirelessly in love with me for years? Dreamed of me every single night?” He chuckles at your expense, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall just like he was when you came in.

So that confirms it. That’s exactly what he wants you to say, what he needs to hear from you. He loves you, wants you more than anything. All his elaborate schemes and shitty pick up lines have been for real, and you’ve neglected them for years. You still don’t know how to communicate this need, this carnal desire you have to be his woman. So you don’t. You huff in embarrassment at yourself, at your inability to ever come outright and say how you feel. It’s going to be the death of you here, the reason you lose the man of your dreams.

No. No, you tell yourself. If Satoru can be so bold with his declarations of desire for you, then you would return the favor. From head to toe, your body erupts into flames and your body moves on its own. You get to your feet, eyes trained on Satoru’s puzzled blues. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth and shyly look away, sitting back on your knees once you stand a few inches away from him. You look up, blinking thick eyelashes up at him. Your hand reaches up for the waistband of his underwear.

“I dunno how to say it. So let me show you.” You offer with a shaky breath, cupping the bulge that slowly grew before your eyes.

It was his turn. His eyes widened in shock, though his hand found itself knitted in your hair immediately. The feeling of your soft and slender hand holding him over his underwear was only driving him crazier. He needed to have your touch, the real one. He nods, pulling your face a little closer.

“By all means, darling girl. Show me.” His grin is growing closer to the devilish side. You lick your lips and nod again, tucking your dainty fingers under the waistband and tugging them down. You try to contain your excitement as his length slaps up into those gorgeously defined abs of his, but you can tell by the look on Satoru’s face that you fail. He chuckles, your eyes widening in anticipation and your thighs rubbing together like you’re trying to start a fire.

He was gorgeous, down to every ridge and vein decorating his perfectly arched cock. You were salivating, he was trimmed immaculately, just some short white pubes there to focus on. You sigh, feeling the heat pool between your legs at the same time you lean and reach up to grasp him. He lets a choked gasp go just from your slender fingers wrapping around his base. He has to consciously think about making himself look down at you, not wanting to miss a second of your beautiful face taking him in. You pump him slowly a few times, still taking in his massive length and the pretty bead of precum gathering at his slit.

“Don’t tease now, god knows you’ve been doing enough of that for six years now.” He groans, pushing his hips forward so that his pre was spread all along your lips. He giggles at the obscenity of it all, and the way your tongue darts out to lick it all up. Goosebumps prickle along his flesh as you bat your eyes up at him and guide his shaft into your waiting warm mouth. He gasps softly at the feeling of your wet walls swallowing him in, the shocking way you swallow him down your throat was enough to have him fighting the urge to cum down your throat already. You were the girl of his dreams, and he’s been having fantasies of you on your knees like this for years. He groans as you start to move, his back falling more flush against the doorframe.

You moan at his taste, willing yourself to take him all at once. The weight of him on your tongue was comforting and satisfying, and looking up at the way his face contorts in pleasure, you wonder why you did delude yourself for so long. His fingers gently scratch at your scalp, urging you further down his length, his load rapidly approaching at your gags.

You let go of his base, forcing him down your throat even though tears spring to your eyes from the action. You move your hands to his hips instead, deepthroating all he had to give you. “Such a nasty girl, swallowing all this dick so good.”

You moan softly at his talk, actually swallowing around him and choking just a bit. He loves it, the sounds you make and the eager way you bob up and down. “Y/N–I’ll cum soon if you don’t stop.” He warns, though you don’t take it as a warning at all. In fact, you only take it as encouragement to keep going, to make up for all the years you could have had together if only you weren’t so scared. You increase your pace, not minding the ache in your jaw as his hands slide down to hold your face. His features are all worth it, his mouth parted in pleasure, eyes scrunched tight as he fucks his hips into your mouth, pubes rubbing against your chin. His load is huge like the rest of him, the hot liquid sliding down your windpipe. He leaves his dick in your mouth for a minute, still grappling with the aftershocks of his nut, realizing this wasn’t a realistic fantasy of his and you were actually on your knees, sucking him dry. He grins down at you, knowing that your lives together were forever changed. You’d have a while to sort that out, all he cared about now was returning the favor, making you feel as good as you just made him feel. His hands gently stroke your cheeks, and you slide off him with a pop, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Your eyes never left his, and he couldn’t tear himself away either.

Your heart pounded in your ears, and you knew this meant big changes for your previously platonic relationship. “Pretty girl, god I’m so glad you did that…let me make you feel good too, please?” He asked, the whine at the end so desperate you could hardly believe Satoru Gojo was begging you to eat your pussy.

“I–I’m sweaty, it’s not as bad for dick..” You giggle shyly, unable to look at him and say such a thing.

“I have a shower. C’mon. We have time.” He wiggles his brows, stepping out of his underwear entirely. His hands pull you back to your feet, keeping his hold on you as he directs you to the shower.

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