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hoshigray · 3 months ago

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Y'ALL ARE SMTHN ELSE, LMFAOOOOOO

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭 𝐌𝐞, 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 | gojō satoru

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: bully! Gojo x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! you + Gojo are college juniors - first kiss - fingering (f! receiving) - sqüiřtıng - virginity loss - corruption kink - missionary + deep impact positions - clitoral play - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy, you sillies!) - premature ejaculation - pet names (baby, crybaby, cutie, princess) - itty bitty possessiveness - mention of spit/drool and tears.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.6k

“Yo.”

“Yes, Satoru?”

“You never had your first kiss, huh?”

Gojo Satoru takes pleasure in being your bully — nothing in his third year of college gives him much joy than being your one source of torment. Sure, he’s got everything: being the campus’ grounds #1 heartthrob, a star player on the men’s basketball team, and an excellent scholar in all his courses despite being a dickhead. But, even if he possesses the things that put him at the top of the class body, his other fountain of entertainment comes from something - or someone - that playing ball or dormitory parties can’t produce the same level of internal enjoyment.

You and he were alone in his apartment, umbrellaed under the instruction of working on an upcoming project this month. Of course, boredom is evident in the tall one’s heavy sighs as he looks through multiple articles on his laptop. Cerulean orbs wander away from the device’s screen and land on the other side of the couch; another figure glued to the armrest is concentrated on typing their keyboard to notice the prying survey.

Gojo’s ennui begins to flicker out the moment he sees you, wanting nothing to do with this damn assignment and just to mess with his favorite pushover. This is precisely why he prompts himself to ask you a question, and judging by how quickly your fingers stop typing, now his attention is hooked onto a matter way more fascinating.

He spots your flattened lips. “…Wh–Where did that come from?”

“Just curious, a random thought that came to my head.”

“Why was that the thought that—“

“Hey, aren’t ya gonna answer the question?”

You stammer. “What makes you think I never had my first kiss?!”

He lifts a brow; his round shades shine when he smirks. “So you did have a first kiss?” Your lips open with no voice, and both silver eyebrows rise from the silent answer you’re giving, only for you to close your mouth and avert your gaze elsewhere. Gotcha, he stifles a chuckle. “Thought so, you terrible liar. Embarrassed I called you out? Haha, hilarious.”

Your eyes may be on the words of your document on your laptop, but the heat on your cheeks and the uncomfortable knot in your gut keep brewing. You chew on your lips to focus on something other than the guy getting a kick out of your lack of experience — the guy you don’t hear close and place his computer on the coffee table.

“Hey,” the closeness of his voice takes you aback, and you’re surprised to see him sit closer enough to bring a hand to close your laptop. “Wanna kiss me?”

Mortified eyelids shoot wide. “Wanna—Wh-What!?!” What the fuck is going on?!? “Why would you ask me—“

A nonchalant shrug adds more weight to your shock. “Why not? It’s just you and me, alone in my apartment at 8 o’clock. Sounds like a perfect opportunity, doncha think?”

“Yeah, to do work!” Your emphasis fails as Gojo takes your device to add to the table surface. “I-I didn’t come here for you to question me and ask to—“

“You got someone else you’re waiting for?” He uses a hand to cage you from escaping, a knee between your legs. He knows he has the upper hand, observing behind shielded sunglasses as he awaits your response.

“I–W-Well,” God, what did I get myself into? “Not necessarily…”

“So, do you not trust me with your first kiss?”

“That’s…That’s not the point—“

“You’re deflecting!”

“Satoru,” the way you say his name — low and soft, a pleading whisper — makes something switch for Gojo, looking at your bashful expression with hesitant hands, barely pushing his chest. “We shouldn’t…Let’s get back to the assignment?”

That wasn’t working on him; he’d never want to stop teasing you, especially now when you look too cute. “Let me kiss you one time, ‘kay? Then, we’ll go straight back to work.” He can see the cogs work in your brain, deciphering whether he is genuine. Was he? He couldn’t tell; all he was thinking about was how your lips felt. “I promise, princess.”

You didn’t mean it to happen, but you scan from his shades to his lips; now, it’s all you can see. The bob of his Adam’s apple, when he gulps, has your breath hitch, and after a few silent seconds with no movement, he begins to descend his face lower, and your lids swiftly close. So does his as he gently places his pillowy lips onto your plump ones, and a hushed squeak doesn’t go neglected.

Cherry — that’s the flavor that Gojo can taste. It has to be from the lip gloss you plastered on your lips that made them inviting to gawk at, pretty lips that the tall other couldn’t stop peering occasionally. He licks the bottom, taking in more of the taste with a soft groan. You yelp, gaping your lips further to give the man above an idea, and chew on your bottom lip. More whimpers slide past your control, hands gripping his sweatshirt as he peppers you with soft kisses, latching onto yours for longer seconds from one after the other — so much for one kiss.

You’re the one to break it off, hesitantly backing away from him to breathe. Hot skin returns to the cold air, and intimate huffs fuel into the space. You open your eyes slowly, half-lidded with knitted brows and scorching ears. You examine Gojo’s neutral expression; orbs that were once filled with reluctance are now replaced with a...wonder.

An innocent wonder that nearly has Gojo shut down from seeing as your hands steadily ring around his neck. There it is again, another switch flipped. This time, a spark ignites his brain, curiosity coursed to a more indecent field after what it feels like taking your first kiss. Because the way you’re looking under him — entirely submitted to him and his touch — wasn’t something he expected to rock his core. And all he can think about now…

…Is what taking all of your firsts would be like.

“—Taaahhh, haah…! Satoru, w-wait a min—“

“Hey, baby, tell me, what’s it like having my fingers inside you?”

Gojo’s little experiment delved into different extremes; your first kiss was the starting point of the many thoughts that perturbed his thinking. He wanted to know more about your potential firsts. For example, such as right now, how you’d be if he were the first to touch your privates.

The atmosphere around the living room became hotter; the tepid silence switched with the erotic sounds and squeals that exited your system. Your legs spread apart, Gojo in between your thighs as his big, calloused hand swims under your panties to shove away and meet the bareness of your cunt. You were so wet, your liquids effortlessly coating his fingertips with barely any push. An entire mess between your inner thighs and labia. And that made Gojo’s mind go wild.

“Holy shit,” he chuckles in a heavy sigh. “So fucking wet and tight…Heh, you’re all like this because of a kiss, huh? So adorably pathetic.”

Refutation is impossible as he curls his forefinger inside, scraping your upper wall in a manner you never envisaged. “Sator—Mmmph…!” He keeps pushing the digit to the knuckle, touching crevices of your inner channel you could never reach. “O-Ohhh, Jesus…”

“Mmmm, fuck, you're twitching like crazy,” and Gojo was loving every second of it. The taller junior then decides to test something and creeps his middle finger near your opening, smearing itself with your come as lube.

You sense him push the finger in, nerves heightened. “W-Wait, Satoru, I can’t—“

“Oh, yes, you can.” He interrupts you with a cheeky sneer. “You’re practically asking for it with you twitching so much. Watch.” Gojo pushes the middle digit leisurely; your beseeching babbles become increasingly incoherent when he adds the whole thing with the other finger. Now, both of them have you shrilling from their intrepid fashion, grazing on your vaginal walls with every pull and shove until his knuckles smooch your labia.

Good God, the place is so hot, your face is hot, your body’s hot, your insides feel hot — everything is just too hot for you to handle! And your brain cannot hold itself together as the seconds go. You throw your head back, your eyes sewn shut, “OhGod, ahhck! Wait, stooop! Go slow, go slo—Ohhh!” Gojo does the exact opposite; the pace of his fingers surges to a tempo you find difficult to ride through. Your entire frame locks together, preparing for the inevitable to slip past your hold, and tremors course around you as your orgasm hits you like a train.

Simultaneously as Gojo continues to rut your soapy cunt, a clear liquid disperses out of your urethra and sprays outward. Sprinkling onto the skin of your thighs and drenching your underwear. Although you’re not the only one who gets caught, Gojo at the front gets a genuine display of you showering his forearm with your essence, damping his sweatshirt in the process, and even a bit on his sunglasses.

Of course, Gojo is astonished at what transpired, the shock in his eyes concealed by the shades. “Did you…just squirt on me?” His ears pick up the sound of you sobbing, your hands covering your face as you whine.

His ears pick up the sound of you sobbing, your hands covering your face as you whine. Massive tears roll down your cheeks, “I—hic—I told you to wait…!”

It happens the third time: something snaps inside Gojo once he sees your oddly beautiful teary face. It’s at that moment that something in his core breaks and permeates his entire body with a force that’s been itching to get out when he kissed you earlier. He swallows thickly because the next thing he does after this will eat him alive, a queerly anticipated feeling for the white-haired man.

It’s a no-brainer that Gojo pulls you off the couch and leads you to throw on top of his bed, stripping himself off his pants and briefs to free his raging erection and crawling up on top of you after chucking his shades off. A gasp leaves puffy lips when his pink glans meet the folds of your vagina, burrowing between your labia to coat with your slick.

“Satoru, wait,” you voice. “D-Don’t you have a condom?”

“Sorry, ran out of them.” Lies. Gojo knows he has rubbers tucked in his nightstand. However, the intention to use them is nowhere to be found. Because tonight – knowing completely and damn well you’re still a virgin – he had to fuck you raw. The drive to do so sent shivers up his spine. “Don’t worry, cutie. I’ll promise to pull out.”

Yet again, another deception.

Gojo pushes the tip in as he counts your breaths, watching every wince and contortion of your expression as the cockhead ventures and seeks shelter inside your slit. Your body is squirming through every exhale, and Gojo’s coaxes to relax your rigidness are somewhat helpful as you intake air. Before you know it, your mouth goes to a permanent ‘o’ shape once the tip is inserted, the act of breathing stops, and your body recoils and tenses as he slowly forces the foreign limb to carve your tightness inch by inch.

Oh, fucking shit…!! Oh yeah, Gojo thanks himself for not putting on a rubber. The firm grasp of your walls around his length nearly has him lose balance, sinking into your warm wetness clenching onto him so deliciously. He bites his lip to composure, a futile attempt as he throws in a few slow thrusts, and the snug of you has him in a chokehold. Then, when he hits your cervix, you instinctively grip onto him tighter and wrap your legs around him, and Gojo almost chokes.

“F-Fuuck, wait, wait..!” He curses, submitting to a release way too early; his hips tremble as his cock ejaculates into your vagina. Shocks rattle his brain, rolling his eyes to the ceiling at the sensation of pooling himself into you. “Shit, oh shiiiit…this fucking pussy is driving me crazy.”

It really does because Gojo, still keen from his climax, dials the cadence, rutting into you with purpose. The sudden movements have your shrieks bouncing across the bedroom walls, and hits to your womb are frequent and cause more tears to strike down without your comprehension. “Nnnmm! OhhhmyGod…! Mmoohh!!”

“Heh, look at you cryin’,” Gojo teases you from above, licking a tear before kissing your cheek and ear. “Guess that’s expected for your first time, huh…Hnnnm, God, you’re clenching my dick so much.”

“Th-That’s because you’re—“The curve of his shaft has the tip graze your walls in an angle that makes your back arch. “Ahhoooo!! I’m fuull; you’re making me fulll…!!”

“Awww, am I making you full, crybaby?” He mocks you in your ear, the snicker sounding too salacious to the drum. “You full with my dick that it got you whining and crying for me?”

I can’t do this! Your brain dissolves into mush, and your face is too hot to construct adequate consciousness. “I can feel it, I can feel…”

“What is it? I can’t hear you through all the sobbing,” Gojo unscrews your legs to maneuver one for him to straddle and the other to lie on his shoulder. The new position gave him a directed way to piston his pelvis into your aching cunt, your squeals turning into screams as pokes to your womb come with the feverish pacing. He’s hitting so deep you can’t catch up! “What, you think you’re about to cum?”

You nod hurriedly. “Yes, yesss!!”

“Oh, that’s what you want now?” The snow-headed man chortles before sneaking a hand to your vulva, where his fore and middle finger swipe on your clit. “Tell me, is that what my pathetic angel wants?” You nod again, so he pinches your bud. “Tell me properly~.”

“—Ahhnnn, ohh, Sa—‘Toruuu!!” You pan to him. “Pleaseee, please make me cum, I wanna cum…!!”

God, this was a picture worth savoring. The image of you being all desperate for release, wanting nothing but to succumb to your wanton desire. You looked so ruined, like a completely different person compared to the meek exterior Gojo used to. And it’s all because of him – his words, his touches, his lips, and his dick – that you’re like this. A fact that only propels him to hammer his hips into you harsher.

“Good girl,” he bends down to close his face to yours. Surveying you make such erotic faces as he keeps playing with your clit is food for his soul. “Enjoy yourself, princess,” and he steals your lips once more for another kiss.

Your orgasm comes to you quicker than ever, thanks to the work of Gojo’s hips, the hits of your cervix, the pinches on your clitoris, and the sloppy makeout session. Your body freezes and lets the aftershocks jolt you to a rocky clarity, your head in a dense fog, and your vision just about blurry. Your legs quiver with heaving breaths, and Gojo keeps thrusting as you soon fall out of your euphoria.

The cold air blankets both of you once tense muscles calm down and bring you two back to reality. Silence befriends the lack of words aside from the pants of breath, and Gojo sluggishly withdraws his cock out of your wet chasm, whistling at the sight of his load slowly protruding out of your essence.

“Hey,” your face forms into a helpless expression. “Bet you never tried anal before.”

Tonight was dedicated to conquering all of your firsts. And Gojo means that with every bone in his body!

#love you guys sm LOOOOOOOL #never change ♡#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ 𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝑴𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒆 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑮𝒐 𝑩𝒂𝒄𝒌!!

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lovinggreeniehours · 7 months ago

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sunsets over water.

↳ arion × five

↳ 1.4k words

↳ (revised version of an old fic "horizons"!) a brief study of these two before Everything. they don't meet here but. well, they will <3 five's half takes place in 1996, ari's half takes place in 2012; also references to arifive both being trans. ari discovers that much later than five does, resulting in wonky pronouns

"In three.."

Number Five clenched his fists at his sides. His powers churned in the pit of his stomach— a great, impatient force, bubbling beneath the skin, itching to run free. It took all his willpower not to do a spatial jump before his father's cue. He couldn't mess this up. Especially not with the little mouse forced to tag along with him. The handle to its cage was held tight in his little fist.

"Two.." His father continued, stern gaze flitting between his pocket watch and the child.

Number Five sucked in a breath. He could feel his siblings' anxious gazes in his periphery.

"One."

And in a flash of electric blue, he was gone. He really hoped the mouse didn't die.

—

He reappeared on the roof, his jump perfectly calculated as ever. It was a routine spot for training his spatial jumps, as dictated by Sir Hargreeves's rigorous training routine for him. Next was the kitchen, followed by various other locations in the house that he could blink into easily. What his father wanted from this, specifically, was speed.

On that particular day, however, there was a small exception, and that was the bug-eyed rodent in Number Five's clutches. He had never practiced his jumps with other people before, much less with animals. This was, as his father said, starting off small. He'd master that aspect of his powers in time.

Carefully raising the cage, Number Five squinted curiously at his little passenger. As expected, the poor thing was a blur of grey; it ran terrified circles around its cell. But it was whole and unharmed. That was enough. A victorious grin grew on Five's face.

"Did it." The boy declared smugly. "Hey there, little fella."

This would be his first spatial jump with another living being— of course, a natural success. Pride widened his grin and puffed out his chest. And to think it only took, what? Seven years of spatial jumping experience. Not bad, considering that was his entire life. He never rested. Never stopped. And there he was, leagues ahead of his siblings. At this point, what would bragging do but state the obvious?

Number Five glanced down at the watch on his wrist, debating with himself whether or not he'd have extra time if he went quickly enough. No doubt, when he'd get back, he'd have to deal with his rowdy gaggle of siblings. Maybe he deserved a few minutes of solitude as celebration.

So there he sat, by the ledge of the building's chalky cement roof (he made a note to dust off his shorts before returning). He left the cage on his lap, hoping the mouse would come to calm down on its own. Sitting crisscrossed, he scooted away from the ledge. Just enough to avoid the cameras lining the sidewalk, of which he knew there were many.

In front of him was a radiant sunset, like a canvas filled with the acrylic paints his sister Allison liked so much these days. Muted oranges and rose gold hues splattered across the sky. Sunset. The rotation of the Earth around the sun, in unison with the moon's rotation around the Earth. He wondered how something so simplistic ended up being so.. pretty. He supposed he would learn. Eventually. He always did.

As streaks of vibrant red began to bleed over the clouds, the breeze picked up. Unevenly chopped strands of hair floated over his eyes, which he found annoying. Maybe he'd have to ask Klaus for another haircut.

To distract himself, Five's gaze strayed downward to the apartment across the street. The third floor appeared unoccupied; barren of both curtains and furniture, leaving only the plain, cream-colored rooms within. His father, Sir Reginald Hargreeves, bought the entire block and converted it into a mansion. The space was always appreciated, but still. It didn't leave any room for neighbors, and Five and his siblings often wondered what it would've been like to have them. If they were allowed to meet them anyway.

They've snuck out of the house before. Maybe when someone finally got to move in, they'd sneak out to meet them too. Maybe someone their age. Someone without superpowers like them. Five wondered what their life would be like, and if he'd find anything interesting about it. He wondered if they'd find him interesting back. They were always left wondering things like that. Dad never let them ask.

Number Five glanced back down at his watch. He needed to get a move on. With a sigh, he picked up the mouse cage and stood.

He brushed back his hair behind his ear, eyeing the mouse thoughtfully. "Do you know what it's like to have friends?"

Then he let out a hollow laugh, suddenly feeling uncharacteristic. He really shouldn't be talking to the mouse. Dad was going to kill it after it served its purpose anyways.

With one last look into the empty apartment, he jumped forward, and was gone in a flash of blue.

In winter of 2004, a couple and their newborn baby moved into the third floor of the apartment across the Hargreeves mansion. That was eight years ago. Even then, Number Five hadn't been there to see it.

A few buildings eastward from the apartment was a small store, decorated from top to bottom in Christmas trinkets and lights. Outside, the world was caked in glittering white.

Inside the store, a now-single mother bustled about as she shopped. Meanwhile, her eight-year-old child walked boredly along the children's aisle.

She crossed her arms over her chest, pouting at the ridiculously expensive dolls they couldn't have. They had a budget, according to mom, or whatever that meant. And she didn't want to take too long.

The child flipped her hair in an annoyed, exaggerated way only eight-year-olds would ever do. She flitted over to the halfway mark of the toy aisle, where the number of dolls began to dwindle, making way for comic books and collectible figurines.

Despite her thorough annoyance at her financial limitations, a smile began to curve her lips. Her dark brown eyes lifted towards the shop window, where not too far away, she could see the edge of the block previously housing The Umbrella Academy. Before they disbanded, at least. She always found it funny that their next door neighbors had their own merchandise.

Unfortunately, as she sifted through the numerous issues of their comic series, she began to realize that she might've already bought copies of them all.

"Sweetheart, did you pick anything yet?" Mom piped up from the other side of the store. "I'm gonna pay soon."

"Almost!" A reflex response to stall. As children do.

She had no idea what to get for Christmas. And this was for herself. But she couldn't leave empty-handed now, could she? Then coming to the store at all would've been a huge waste of time. Not to mention, how her mother seemed capable of making a backhanded comment for just about anything. At least, if she picked something, she'd have something nice to help her ignore it.

So comics were out. The only thing left in the aisle that they could afford were the cheaper figurines.

Spaceboy. The Kraken. The Rumor. The Seance. The Boy. The Horror. Every codename she remembered by heart, in order of their numbered ranks. A faint burst of pride lifted their spirits.

"Chi?"

The voice was so close— her mother was coming around the bend to check on her. Before she could, she jerked forward and grabbed the first figurine her fingers could reach.

"I'm done!"

Mom quirked up an amused eyebrow at the result. "The Umbrellas again?"

Her cheeks flared in embarrassment. She shrugged, not knowing how to respond.

Mom laughed. "Alright. Come on, let's pay for that."

"Okay." She mumbled.

As soon as she was out of sight, she looked down to check. Neat dark brown hair, hands fisted and surrounded by a blue aura. Nice paint job. Like most of his promotional material, The Boy— Number Five— was in a running position. Like how Five ran from home several years ago.

Heat flooded the child's cheeks. Verifiable information about The Boy was elusive. The media didn't care about him much, but oddly enough, it seemed to make Number Five all the more interesting to her. Just what was going on in that house that the best of them had to leave in such a hurry?

With an absentminded smile, she casted another glance out the window at the mansion, suddenly excited to comb through more theories when she arrives home. Maybe one day someone would find out. When that day came, she hoped she'd be the first to hear about it.

#i hope. i got everything in the pronoun changes #okay yeah. im going to tag then go to bed #ari.writing #mine #if i could never give you peace.♡

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