The last shrill beep from the scanner dies out, and the cashier slides the final item across, leaving a mountain of grocery bags stacked at the end of the conveyor, teetering so much that it makes you wonder if they’ll topple before you even get a hand on them. Reaching for the battered metal cart you’d been dragging through the aisles, you barely get your hand on the handle before Sukuna lets out a flat, dismissive scoff behind you.

"Leave it," he mutters, nudging you away from it.

"What do you mean leave it?" you ask, looking up at him with a slight frown. "We have to get it to the car."

“I’m not walking all the way back across the lot just to return a piece of metal,” he grumbles, already shoving his hoodie sleeves up his forearms, brooking no argument.

“Kuna, the car’s parked at the very end of the row,” you whine, casting a helpless look at the mountain of groceries, but he doesn’t so much as flinch. “Uh. Fine.”

— the arrangement ∬ ֗ ₊

frat!jo 𝓍 fem!reader

Everyone knows you hate fraternities, especially Theta Phi and it's president, Satoru Gojo

It was a given. The sky is blue, grass is green and according to you, fraternities are the root of all evil.

Which is why when you started fucking Gojo, it was under the condition that this was strictly between the two of you and you'd ruin his life if he told anyone about this.. arrangement. 

Here's what not even your closest friends know about you: you had a very high libido and none of the men you were interested in had been capable of keeping up. you tried sleeping with athletes but even they didn't have the stamina to go for more than two rounds and while your vibrators always helped you, you had grown sexually frustrated and needed more.

You started snapping over the tiniest things, losing sleep and even daydreaming during lectures about getting fucked.

This.. arrangement started when you had been assigned to work on a project with Gojo, the arrogant white haired manchild you hated since the first day of uni. Now you were stuck with him for two months, working on a project he cared little about since he was too busy trying to charm his way into not just your pants, but your heart.

As if!

"Fuck, just like that, princesss. Come on, I know you can go faster." Gojo chuckles and grabs onto your hips, spreading his legs wider as he starts bouncing you on his cock so hard that the car is rocking back and forth, windows fogging up as he lifts his hips to pound into you. 

You should be working on this project that was due in a few weeks, but instead you let Gojo drag you to the backseat of his car with the promise that this would be quick, something to clear your minds so you could focus on your work without any distractions. 

Yet here you were four rounds later with cum dripping down your thighs from his previous loads that started to seep from the condom, body shaking as you neared your fourth orgasm.

"Screw you asshole, how about you get on top you lazy bast- oh!" Gojo lifts you off his cock and flips you onto your knees, awkwardly moving within the limited space until he’s behind you and lining his cock up with your entrance. 

"You're so fucking mean to me, I love it." Gojo leans over your body to suck on your neck, one hand holding onto your hip while the other grips the back of the seat as he pushes into you.

"You d-deserve it." You push back against him as he pushes forward, meeting him halfway until he's balls deep inside of you, your cunt hungrily squeezing him for more, eyes rolling back when he starts to slowly move his hips.

You hadn't meant for this to go on for as long as it has. You had been frustrated after a shift at work, then you walked in on your roommate getting her back blown out, and when you went to meet Gojo for a quick study session at the library, it was closed and he smirked and told you his place was around the corner.

You reluctantly got into his car, arms folded across your chest as you stared out the window the entire way there, ignoring his flirtatious comments. It had frustrated you to no end, so who could really blame you when you started drooling after he offered to help you with your little issue?

It was supposed to be a one time thing, a quick solution to your "problem" until you could find someone more permanent, someone you didn't despise. 

Only Gojo had matched your freak perfectly, going six rounds your first time and only taking a break once. You didn't want it to be him, did everything to convince yourself that he was actually terrible in bed but your vibrators had turned stale after that night, your mind constantly drifting to how hard Gojo made you cum on his dick and on his tongue.

He was just too good. 

You arch your back so he can hit deeper, hands tightly gripping the leather head rest to steady yourself, skirt yanked above your waist, bra and shirt long discarded on the car floor. 

You cry out when he hits a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars, head spinning from how deep he was fucking you. 

Gojo groans and leans forward, grabbing your chin to turn your head toward his, pink lips slamming against yours. The kiss is careless, his tongue fighting yours, you angrily biting his lip because you hate yourself for letting him fuck you when you swore up and down you’d never get involved with a fratboy. 

Gojo didn’t care, savoring the taste of his blood mixing with the spit you both traded.

When he pulls away, your brows furrow from the way he's staring at you, white hair falling into his face, lips slightly busted from your bite, a foreign feeling twirling in your belly. This was just sex, you wanted nothing more from him so why was he staring at you like he wanted to tell you something that would ruin your current agreement? 

"Look at you.” He whispers too softly. “Letting me fuck you like a slut in my car. Anyone could walk by, you know? See how good I fuck you, how well you take me. You want that?"

When you try to turn your head, he tightens his grip on your jaw and smirks, slamming into you as he thrusts grow sloppy. The sound of your wet pussy squelching filling the car has him dizzy with need.

"You don't have to answer, your moans are telling me enough." He kisses you one more time before letting you go and pulling back. 

You don't have a chance to dwell on what he was implying before he was gripping your hips and pounding into you at a pace that had you crying out as the coil in your belly tightens, your puffy walls gripping around Gojo's cock.

"M'gonna cum again!" You whined as his tip hit your cervix perfectly, fat tears escaping your eyes while your mouth dropped open in a silent cry. 

You try to fuck him back, really you do but your legs are noodles at this point and the only thing keeping you up was Gojo's steady hands on your hips, euphoria coursing through your body and making your head dizzy with need. 

“Come on, princess. Give me another one, yeah? You can do it, such a good girl f’me.” 

You hate him so much, hate that he knows exactly what to say to push you over the edge, that he was way too in-tune with your body as if he had been created to please you.

Gojo pulls you up against his chest and you let your head fall on his shoulder. He wraps one arm around your waist and squeezes you flush against him, his other hand moving around your body until he’s rubbing circles on your clit and you’re lazily bucking back against him.

“Feels so good Toru, haah, don’t stop!” 

The car reeked of sex, windows blurred from the breathy moans falling from yours and Gojo’s mouths as you both rock into each other. Anyone walking by would know what was happening inside. You thanked god it was late and the parking lot had been empty. 

“Really? Thought you hated me, pretty girl. Who knew- fuck, who knew you had such loose morals?” He laughs in your ear, hand pushing on your back to arch it even further while he split you on his cock. 

“F-fuck you, oh im close!” 

Gojo laughs and places a kiss on the side of your head that lingers longer than it should before pushing you back down to get a better angle and his next slam sends you over the edge, your orgasm tearing through your soul as you squirt all over his seats and cry out his name.

This was better than porn.

Gojo doesn’t laugh this time, doesn’t make any snide comments because he can barely breathe with the way your cunt is pulsing around his cock, your juices dripping down his thighs and he thinks he’s going crazy because he’s never had pussy this good. 

The fact that you hated him made this even better for some reason, motivated him to fuck you until you finally admitted that this was more than just casual sex. That he wasn’t delusional in thinking this could be something deeper. 

He squeezes your hips tighter, pushing as deep as he can as he pumps his third load into the condom, eyes rolling back and a strangled groan escaping his lips as thick hot cum drips from the latex and into your warm pussy. 

Gojo can feel it slipping it off, can feel your heat and gummy walls on his half free cock and it has him feral as he picks up his pace and fucks another load into you, his balls tightening and pulsing because you had never felt this good. 

“Shit, princess. You’re so fucking wet, so good, s-so perfect.” He drops against your back, still holding you up as his hips stutter and slow, pushing the last of his orgasm out while you both catch your breath. 

He stays there for a moment, his face tucked into the crook of your neck, thumbs rubbing circles on your hips as you both come down from your high. You can feel his cum leaking from you and down your thighs and you hate how it awakens something primal inside of you. And when the thought to push it back in had formed, you blamed it on your disheveled state. 

In any other instance you would have pushed him off you already, huffing that it was only sex and would never happen again even though you both knew that was a lie. 

Something about Gojo had you coming back for seconds and thirds. Every fuck session was somehow better than the last, making you forget that this was supposed to be a one time thing, something to hold you over until you found a more suitable partner. 

Only you were starting to realize Gojo might be the best you ever had. It made you hate him more.

You gasp when he slowly pulls out, pussy overstimulated and swollen from the multiple rounds you went in the span of an hour. Both of you sitting on the cushion, one of your arms draped across the seat, Gojo’s throw over his eyes. 

You sneak a look at him, heart thumping at how attractive he looked. His hair was all over the place, cheeks red from exhaustion, and his pants and boxers were still halfway down, cock still free and housing a half on condom. Your skin tingles at the sight of his abdomen and white pubes wet with your release. 

He looked as fucked out as you felt.

Not one for awkward silence, you lift your hips to pull your panties back up and your skirt down, stretching your body to reach into the front seat for your shirt, ass in the air and you almost have it, your finger literally grazes the blue fabric before Gojo grabs you and pulls you down. 

“Gojo! Oh my god, let go you freak.” You’re fuming, trying your best to wiggle out his grip but he just tightens his arms around your stomach, pulling you against him and lowering his head onto your back, littering it in soft kisses that burn through your skin. 

"Go on a date with me. Please?"

This again. You told him multiple times before that this was simply sex, two college students helping each other out and nothing more. No feelings outside of helping the other get off. His stubbornness would only hurt him in the end.

"God no, I don't date frat boys."

"What if I left?"

You freeze against him, a lump forming in your chest. "Aren't you the president? You can't just leave."

What a cruel joke. Not that you wanted him anyways but even if you did, Gojo would never leave his fraternity. Certainly not for you. You two weren’t lovers, weren’t friends and we’re barely acquaintances given the fact that he was your number one op.

You remembered the time in sophomore year when he publicly called you an uptight bitch because you told him his party sucked. You lived different lives, it could never work. He would never change and you would never see him as more than a quick fuck and your unfortunate  project buddy that you’d go back to ignoring once this was over.  

"I can do whatever I want sweetheart, did you forget my last name?" He lifts his head and kisses your shoulder this time, goosebumps forming on your arms. Of course, he always tried to fix everything with money and status, which is another reason why you hated him. 

You sit there quietly, lost in your thoughts. 

You couldn’t seriously be with someone like Gojo, right? He was brash, had an ego out of this world and was a bratty nepo baby that flirted with anyone with a hole. 

"So?" he asks, hopeful. HIs fingers gently dig into your belly to keep you from moving away, one hand coming up to grip your chin and turn your head back to him. 

"So?" You repeat, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you lose yourself in his eyes.

For all of his.. lack of good qualities, he never failed in the facial department. Perhaps that was another reason you disliked him, because no matter how many insults you can throw his way, ugly wasn’t one of them.

Satoru Gojo was sculpted by the Gods themselves, which was unfortunate, because no one with a face like that should have a personality so catastrophically irritating. You can’t help but to let your eyes. traitorous things that they were, linger.

He notices because of course he does, and the smile that spreads across his face lacks any of his usual arrogance and for a second you imagined what life as his girlfriend could be like. 

The thought came uninvited, images of him giving you sleepy morning kisses nad taking you on dates vivid enough to make your stomach twist. 

Absolutely not.

Satoru Gojo was many things: powerful, insufferable, unbearably handsome, but he was not boyfriend material.

"Will you go on a date with me if I leave the frat?" 

"No."

You answer too fast and Gojo is once again left heartbroken as you pull away to finish dressing yourself, refusing to spare him another look. He could understand why you hated him, but if you would just give him a chance to prove he could be different, he knew he wouldn’t disappoint you. 

He would just have to keep trying, keep working for your favor because he would make you his if it was the last thing he did. He was competitive to his core and that wouldn’t waver just because he had finally met his match. 

On the contrary, it only motivated him more. He saw the way you looked at him, how you were starting to let him touch you longer than you would have when this first started.

He was slowly breaking your walls down and it was only a matter of time before he made you his.

series masterlist

© art creds: gojouify, heart gif from @sweethearticism ❤︎

gojo &̶ jjk tags: @rhaewinsdaughter @timgiohlover1767 @kissprl @lunevarin @keiito066 @Stupidlyawesomegirl @pinkpantherrrrss @Spammyjammyy @lounastar @luvs-angel @luvbambiboo @scramblenigojo @nationalmegumidihhopper

perm tags: @icebearcucumber @tojisfavoritegun @writingintheskin @saturneni @sakurasweetiesworld-blog @sleeeepybee @locallyclementine @butterbeanandsparkleface

!nerdjo x reader | part 6

part 1 here! . part 2 here! . part 3 here! . part 4 here! part 5 here!

cr: 3vangel1ne_ on X

Before you read, I’m going to be completely honest: this was barely proofread. Sorry in advance! I’ll go back and edit it later if I find any typos

If you like listening to music while reading, I recommend this!

-

“Were you filming yourself while thinking about me, Satoru?”

The words hit him like a punch to the chest, knocking the air out of his lungs.

His heart slammed against his ribs so hard he was certain you could hear it. His mouth went dry instantly. Between the two of you, the phone screen glowed like a live grenade on the coffee table; his own wrecked, pathetic voice still spilling from the speakers, mocking him with every confession.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He wanted to disappear. He wanted the floor to open and swallow him whole. He wanted to grab the phone and throw it out the window. Or throw himself out the window. But the worst part —  the most humiliating, soul-crushing part  — was that he was already getting hard again. A slow, shameful throb in his sweatpants, triggered simply by the way you were looking at him.

“I…” His voice cracked immediately. He swallowed but his throat was tight with rising panic. He forced himself to look at you.

Big mistake.

You were sitting on his couch like you belonged there, legs crossed, watching him systematically fall apart with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher.

You reached forward and tapped the screen, silencing the video. The sudden quiet was deafening. The absence of his own moans left only the sound of his ragged breathing and the frantic beating of his heart.

“You what, Satoru?” you asked, your voice deceptively soft.

The heat crawled up his neck, burning his ears a deep, painful crimson. He could feel sweat gathering at the back of his neck. His mind was a storm of static and shame.

She knows.

She knows I came in my pants like a pathetic loser in that hallway.

She heard me begging.

She knows I’ve been jerking off to her for months while pretending to be normal in class.

She knows exactly how disgusting I am.

“I—Yes” he whispered finally. The word tasted like surrender. He dragged a hand through his messy white hair, pulling at the roots as if he could yank the thoughts right out of his brain.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the sight of you, but the image of you was burned into his retinas. When he opened them, you were still there. Still watching. Still judging.

“I tried to stop,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low, fractured mutter. “After the first time, I—no. Fuck. That sounds like an excuse. I’m just making it worse.”

His cock twitched traitorously against the cloth, a sharp, stinging reminder of how badly he wanted to be at your feet. He shifted in the chair, a futile attempt to hide it, though he knew with agonizing certainty that you had noticed. He looked up, his blue eyes glassy, shimmering with a desperate vulnerability.

“I’m sorry” he muttered “I know how fucked up this is. You must think I’m disgusting. Some creep who’s been jerking off to you for months while borrowing your notes like nothing was wrong.”

The silence that followed was torture. Every second stretched painfully. His pulse thundered in his ears.  He felt stripped bare, raw, and completely at your mercy. And, in a way that made him hate himself even more, he found that he absolutely craved the feeling. 

He swallowed hard, his throat clicking, his gaze dropping to his lap where the bulge in his pants was becoming impossible to ignore. He felt so exposed it was killing him.

“I’ll delete the channel,” he said, the words tumbling out of him, desperate and jagged. He looked up again, his eyes wide and pleading, searching yours for any sign of mercy. “I’ll delete everything. All of it. Just… please, don’t hate me.”

He waited for the rejection. He braced himself for you to stand up, to leave, to call him a freak—anything would have been easier than this terrifying, steady gaze of yours. 

“No” you tilted your head “That would be such a waste, don’t you think?”

His brain short-circuited.

For a second he just stared at you, lips parted, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. The words didn’t compute at first. His heart was hammering so violently he felt dizzy.

She said… waste?

A violent shiver ran down his spine. His cock, already half-hard and traitorously interested, gave a full twitch inside his sweatpants. He hated how his body reacted before his brain could even process it.

“You…” His voice came out hoarse, almost broken. “W-What?”

Inside his head, the thoughts were screaming.

She knows everything. She saw me crying in the shower like a pathetic whore begging for her. She heard me say I wanted her to sit on my face in the hallway. And she’s saying it would be a waste to delete it?

Heat flooded his face so intensely he was sure he looked feverish. Shame burned through him, thick and nauseating, but underneath it — god, underneath it — there was a sick, desperate spark of hope. Of want.

You stood up slowly.

His breath caught in his throat as he watched you rise from the couch. You rounded the coffee table, and instinctively, he turned in his chair to keep you in sight. By the time you stopped in front of him, towering over his seated form, he had to tilt his head back to meet your eyes. 

You leaned down, one hand resting lightly on the back of his neck. Your breath ghosted on the other side of his head, just against his ear

“You’ve spent so much time performing for me, Satoru,” you whispered, voice velvety. “Begging for me in front of a camera…”

He leaned forward slightly, almost unconsciously, like his body was begging to get closer to you. 

You continued, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Don’t you think it’s time you do it in my face?”

Then you slowly pulled back. His heart dropped as you walked around the coffee table and sat down on the couch again, facing him directly. The distance felt both relieving and agonizing.

Your gaze dropped for a second to his lap, then back up to his face. You bit your lip.

“Show me” you said quietly.

Satoru’s brain malfunctioned.

“W-what…?”

“Touch yourself,” you said. “Right now. In front of me. And tell me everything you’ve been thinking about when you do it.”

The room spun.

Satoru stared at you, mouth dry, heart thundering so hard he felt dizzy. He looked at you with wide, glassy eyes — desperate, ashamed, and so painfully turned on it hurt.

“I’ve been watching your videos for the last two weeks, Satoru,” you said, voice steady and clear. “Touching myself while listening to you moan. Cumming harder than I ever have in my life. I’ve been driving myself crazy thinking you were talking about some other girl. And I suffered because of it.” You leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on his. “So now you’re going to touch yourself in front of me. Right now.”

Satoru’s brain imploded.

She… subscribed?

The realization hit him like a freight train. All this time… you had been there. His mouth fell open. His eyes widened in pure, devastating shock.

It was you.

The question about the molecule on his hoodie. The way you suggested vancomycin for the project without hesitation. 

You had known for weeks. And instead of exposing him or hating him… you had been getting off to it.

He didn’t even have time to process it when you spoke again

“Touch. Yourself” you commanded, your voice cutting through his stupor like a whip. 

He didn't need to be told a third time. His obedience was instantaneous, a desperate reflex born from the knowledge that you had seen every pathetic, broken moment of his obsession. With fingers that felt thick and clumsy with adrenaline, he untied the drawstring of his sweatpants. 

The moment he freed himself, his flushed, aching cock sprang out, heavy and leaking at the tip. He looked up at you, pupils blown wide with shame and lust, silently begging for any sign of mercy.

But what he found was far worse.

You were biting your lip, eyes dark and fixed on his cock, as if the sight genuinely delighted you.

That was enough. A broken whimper tore from his throat before he could stop it. His hand finally wrapped around his throbbing length, and the first stroke pulled another pathetic sound out of him, his head dropping forward, white hair falling over his eyes and the thin frame of his glasses as he tried to hide from your gaze.

“Look at me” your voice was calm but firm. “If you had no problem saying those filthy things on camera while thinking about me, then you can say them to my face, Satoru.”

Satoru let out a shaky, humiliated sob. Slowly, he lifted his head, forcing himself to meet your eyes.

His hand started moving, slow and trembling.

“I… every time you walked into class…” he whispered, voice cracking, “I couldn’t stop staring at your legs… fuck— I kept imagining them wrapped around my head…”

“Faster.”

Satoru whimpered and obeyed instantly, his hand speeding up.

“Your face… You’re so pretty— ahh— I’d cum thinking about you looking down at me while I eat you out…”

“Slow down.”

He let out a desperate noise but obeyed, slowing his strokes to a torturous pace, hips twitching helplessly.

“I thought about your tits constantly… how soft they’d feel… how much I wanted to bury my face between them and suck on them until my tongue gets sore…”

“Squeeze the head” you murmured.

Satoru gasped sharply, thumb pressing over the sensitive head on every upstroke, precum dripping over his fingers.

“I kept wondering if you— fuck— if it would’ve fit…”

“Faster again. Keep going.”

His hand immediately picked up speed, strokes becoming frantic.

“Your voice… how smart you are… the way you explain things in class like it’s nothing, it— it turned me on so much”

His thighs were shaking now. He was dangerously close.

“And your perfume… I could smell it every time you walked past me… it made me so fucking hard I wanted to drop to my knees and bury my face between your legs right there— Fuck— I can’t—”

“Stop, Satoru.”

The command hit him like a bucket of ice water.

He let out a broken, pained whimper. His hand froze around his throbbing cock, right on the edge. Every muscle in his body tensed as he fought the overwhelming urge to keep going. His hips twitched desperately, trying to chase the friction, but he forced himself to stay still. Tears slipped down his flushed cheeks. The effort was inhuman. His cock pulsed angrily in his hand, leaking steadily, begging for release.

You stood up slowly. Satoru stayed exactly where he was, hand still wrapped around himself, trembling violently as he fought not to cum. He watched you kick the small coffee table aside with a harsh scrape. Then you stepped between his spread knees, towering over him.

Gently, you slid his glasses off his face and perched them atop his messy white hair before leaning down until your faces were only inches apart. 

“Cum” you whispered against his lips.

Then you kissed him.

The contact was the final spark on a fuse. He let out a wrecked, muffled moan directly into your mouth. Thick, heavy ropes of cum spilled over his hand and onto his hoodie in powerful, uncontrollable spurts. His whole body shook violently as he kissed you back with desperate need, whimpering and whining against your lips with every pulse.

When the last spasm finally faded, you pulled back slightly. You lowered his glasses back onto his nose with careful fingers. He could barely focus — his vision was blurry, his mind completely blank.

“You don’t know how much I want to fuck you Satoru…” you murmured, brushing your fingers along his jaw. “All I want is to sink down on your cock right here… but you’ve been a really bad boy.”

Satoru let out a broken, needy moan at your words. The confession hit him like a punch to the gut. You wanted him. You actually wanted to fuck him. The thought made his spent cock twitch weakly in his hand.

“So we’re going to do this slowly,” you whispered, your thumb stroking his bottom lip. “And you’ll be rewarded like the good boy I know you can be. Yeah?”

He could only nod weakly, completely fucked out. His mind was blank, his body still trembling, eyes glassy with exhaustion and overwhelming emotion.

You straightened up, gave him one final look, and turned around, leaving him there — hand still weakly wrapped around his spent cock, covered in his own mess, completely ruined.

—

Leaving Satoru’s dorm took far more self-control than you expected. The second the door clicked shut behind you, your legs felt weak. You leaned against the wall in the hallway for a moment, heart still racing, thighs pressed together as you tried to calm the throbbing between them.

Sitting in front of him, you realized that the camera had done him zero justice. In person he was so much thicker, longer and prettier, with veins that mapped all his length in beautiful lines. The memory of how that thick, pulsing length felt in your mind, and the impossible size of him made your stomach drop. You could almost feel the phantom of his cock opening you up, the exquisite, sharp pain of being filled by someone who wanted you that badly. 

And you had made him cum just from your voice and a kiss.

The memory made your mouth water like a bitch in heat.

By the time you reached your dorm, you were so soaked it was uncomfortable. You locked the door, stripped down to nothing, and touched yourself furiously on your bed, replaying the sounds he made when he came — those broken, desperate whimpers right against your lips. You came twice that night thinking about him, no video needed.

The next day in class, when you saw him walk in wearing that stupid vancomycin hoodie, you were fighting for your life.

You wanted to drag him into the nearest empty classroom and ride him so hard neither of you could walk for days. You wanted to push him against the wall and take that thick, heavy cock in your mouth, feeling his hands tangle in your hair while you worked him until his knees buckled. You wanted to hear him lose his mind, to make him beg, to hear the exact moment your name turned into a plea.

But you held back. 

You wanted him desperate. You wanted him to be just as hollowed out and starving as you had been, shivering in your bed while you watched his videos, consumed by the agonizing, burning jealousy of wondering who else he was touching himself for. 

So you stayed cruel.

You ignored the way he looked at you in the hallways with those big, pleading blue eyes. You ignored how he seemed to hover near your usual seat, body language practically screaming for a sign, for a touch, for a reason to snap. Every time you walked past him, feeling his gaze tracking you, you tightened your thighs, reminded of how easily you could break him.

The days dragged on like that. Torture for both of you.

Until Friday night, when you finally picked up your phone and typed the message.

You hit send. Then you watched the little typing… bubble appear.

Disappear.

Reappear.

Disappear again.

Nearly a minute passed before your phone buzzed.

—

By the time Satoru knocked on your door at 6pm on Saturday, you had already decided how the night was going to go.

You opened the door wearing nothing but a thin white tank top with no bra and tiny black pajama shorts. The moment he saw you, his eyes widened, dropping straight to your chest, then to your bare thighs. He swallowed hard.

“Come in” you said calmly, stepping aside.

He walked into your dorm like he was entering sacred ground. His eyes darted around — the desk covered in notes, the photos on the wall.

He looked nervous. And it was endearing. 

For the first hour, you actually made him work. You explained papers, pointed at diagrams, asked him questions. He tried his best to focus, but you could see the way his eyes kept drifting to your chest, the way he shifted uncomfortably every few minutes.

You loved how hard he was trying.

You leaned in closer, pressing your soft tits against his arm as you pointed at something on the laptop.

“You’re doing so good, Toru…” you murmured near his ear. “Keeping focused even though you’re already so hard for me.”

He let out a shaky breath, the little nickname breaking something inside him.

You kept teasing him like that — small touches, pressing your body against him, whispering praise while talking about the project. By the time you finally closed the laptop, he was breathing heavily, cheeks flushed, cock visibly straining against his sweatpants.

“Come with me?” you said softly.

You led him into your bedroom, the air suddenly thick and stifling. The only light came from your bedside lamp, casting shadows across the sheets—the very same sheets you’d ruined yourself on multiple times watching him.

Satoru stood in the center of the room, looking like a man standing on the edge of a cliff desperate to jump.

“Close the door, Satoru” you said

He obeyed instantly, the click of the lock sounding like a gavel. He turned back to you, his blue eyes blown wide, searching your face behind his glasses.

“You haven’t said a word since you got here, aside from chem stuff” you remarked, stepping closer. “Are you enjoying the torture? Is that what this is for you?”

“It—It’s not torture,” he rasped, his voice rough “I just— I can’t breathe. I’ve been thinking about you all day, all week”

You stopped right in front of him, looking up at his tall frame. 

“Tell me, Satoru…” you said softly, reaching up to brush your fingers along his jaw. “What do you want to do to me? Say it.”

He swallowed hard, struggling to get the words out.

“I… I want to drop to my knees and bury my face between your legs,” he whispered, voice trembling. “I want to taste you until you’re pulling my hair and telling me I’m doing good”

He was breathing faster now, clearly humiliated by his own honesty, but he kept going.

“I want to feel how tight you are around me. I want to hear you moan my name while I fill you up…”

His voice cracked at the end, eyes dropping to the floor in embarrassment.

You smiled softly, heart racing with satisfaction. Without saying anything, you turned around and walked slowly toward your nightstand, giving him a perfect view of your ass in those tiny shorts.

“And what do you want to do to my pussy, mmh?” you asked over your shoulder

You opened the drawer and retrieved your new toy—thick, realistic, and a little oversized. You’d bought it with one purpose in mind: to stretch yourself out until you could finally handle him 

You turned around, holding the toy in your hand, and climbed onto the bed. You sat against the headboard, legs slightly parted, and looked at him.

Satoru’s eyes were glued to the dildo. His mouth was open, cheeks burning red. He looked completely overwhelmed.

With your eyes fixed on him, you hooked your thumb into the waistband of your shorts and panties, sliding them down your legs in one smooth motion. You tossed them aside and spread your legs slowly, exposing your glistening pussy to him.

You extended the dildo toward him.

“Come show me,” you said softly, voice dripping with need. “Show me exactly what you want to do to me, Satoru.”

Satoru froze. For several long seconds he just stared, completely stunned. His mouth fell open slightly, blue eyes wide behind his glasses as they raked over your body — your nipples hardening through the thin tank top, your spread thighs, your wet, shiny pussy right in front of him.

He had spent months fantasizing about this exact moment. Months touching himself while imagining you like this. And now it was real.

He crawled between your legs like he was in a trance, breathing ragged and uneven.

“Fuck…” he whispered, almost to himself. His glasses slipped slightly down his nose as he leaned in closer, eyes glued to your dripping entrance. “You’re too beautiful, I’m going to die”

His hand trembled violently as he took the dildo from you. 

“Stop waiting for permission Satoru” you groaned, impatient  “Show me how badly you want to be inside me“

He obeyed, pressing the thick head of the toy against your folds, rubbing it up and down slowly, coating it with your slick. His breath hitched every time he felt how wet you were.

You moaned softly.

“Put it in” you encouraged.

He slowly pushed the tip inside you. The sight of your pussy stretching around the toy made him let out a broken, needy moan.

“Oh my god…” he breathed, voice wrecked. “You’re so wet…”

He started thrusting the dildo slowly, almost reverently, his eyes never leaving the point where it disappeared inside you. He reached out with his free hand, resting his palm gently against your thigh.

“You’re doing so good,” you murmured, rolling your hips to meet his movements. “Fuck— this is not even as big as you… You’re going to fucking rip me up, won’t you?”

Satoru whimpered loudly, pushing the toy deeper.

“I want to…” he confessed, voice trembling but growing bolder with every thrust. “I want to stretch you open so bad… I want to feel how tight you’d be around my cock… I’ve jerked off so many times imagining how you’d squeeze me…”

His strokes became more confident. The shame was still there, burning on his cheeks, but the hunger was winning. He was getting lost in the sight of you.

You moaned louder, one hand reaching down to rub your clit.

“Faster” you breathed “Show me how you’d ruin me.”

He complied instantly , fucking you with the dildo harder, eyes glassy behind his glasses as he watched every inch slide in and out of you.

“You’re so wet…” he whispered, almost in awe. “I can hear how soaked you are… I want to bury my cock inside you so bad… I want to feel you clench around me while I fill you up.”

After a few minutes, you looked at him with dark, hungry eyes.

“You can touch yourself,” you said. “Stroke that big cock while you fuck me with the toy.”

Satoru didn’t hesitate. He pushed his pants down with his free hand and wrapped his fingers around his throbbing cock, stroking himself in time with the thrusts of the dildo.

“Fuck— you’re so tight…” he groaned, eyes flicking between your pussy and your face. “I don’t know how I’m going to fit —ahh—but I want to try so bad. I want to stretch you open until you’re —fuck—crying my name”

Satoru’s breath hitched, his strokes growing erratic and desperate.

You reached up, threading your fingers into his snowy hair and yanking him down into a fierce, messy kiss, swallowing his broken moans as your tongue claimed his mouth. He melted instantly, letting you lead, his strokes turning sloppy and frantic as he fucked you with the toy exactly how you wanted.

The coil inside you snapped first. You cried out against his lips, thighs trembling as your orgasm ripped through you, clenching hard around the dildo while pleasure flooded your body.

The moment you started cumming, Satoru broke.

“Mmph—!” His muffled whine vibrated against your mouth as his whole body jerked. Thick, warm spurts of cum spilled over his fingers and onto your stomach while he kept desperately kissing you back, needy and sloppy, like he couldn’t bear to pull away even while he was falling apart. His hips stuttered, hand still weakly pumping his cock through the orgasm, completely lost in you.

When you finally let him breathe, he was panting heavily, cheeks flushed deep red, lips swollen and shiny. His forehead dropped against your neck, hot and shaky breaths fanning over your skin.

You were still coming down from your high, gently stroking his hair, when you felt it — something warm and wet against your collarbone.

You blinked, tilting your head slightly. 

He tried to hide it by pressing his face harder into your neck, but his shoulders were trembling and little sniffles kept escaping him.

He was crying. The realization made you start to panic.

“Satoru, no—I’m s—” 

“God—” he choked out “That was the best thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.” 

You buried your face in your hand, his breath still lingering against your neck.

Now, you were the one who was truly fucked.

You finally got a taste... you can’t say I’m edging you anymore LOL 😭

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taglists are full. Thank you!! :)

➷ Unspoken Conditions ── ♪♪ ✦ ♪♪

[ SERIES SYNOPSIS ] — it was obvious when this started, it was simply a mutual understanding between two horny college students — with very high libidos, and didn’t want any random stds — that this was purely a sexual relationship only. and yet, both of you are unintentionally toeing the line between that and something else. [ frat!kuna fwb series ]

[ TAGS ] — MDNI. 18+ nsfw. contains explicit sexual themes and content. piv. angst. friends with benefits. toxic frat culture. hazing. fraternity/sororities. hurt/comfort. hurt/no comfort. SLOW BURN. fluff. spit. ráw. rough. heavy spanking. degradation. dacryphilia. slight exhibitionisim. pda. soft sukuna. choso + yuuji r his younger brothers. every position. heavy creampies. violence. depression/anxiety. anger issues. squirting. cockwarming. alcohol. family death. family trauma. reader slightly oc. sukuna is a footballer (soccer) too. HAPPY ENDING. tags will be updated as series continues.

✮ ch 1 || how it all started ✮ ch 2 || miss me already?

✮ ch 3 || call me ✮ ch 4 || two worlds

✮ ch 5 || conditions ✮ ch 6 || cracks

✮ ch 7 || summer break ✮ ch 8 || oasis

✮ ch 9 || tbd ✮ ch 10 || tbd

✮ ch 11 || tbd ✮ ch 12 || tbd

✮ ch 13 || tbd ✮ ch 14 || tbd ✮ ch 15 || tbd

✮ pt 1 — sukuna is starting to toe the line

✮ pt 2 — you’re desperate to prove this is just sex

✮ pt 3 — cockwarming him for the first time

✮ pt 4 — sukuna’s brothers visit unexpectedly

✮ pt 5 — pregnancy scare with sukuna

✮ pt 6 — sukuna has a stash of naked polaroids of you

✮ pt 7 — halloween special: scare actor!sukuna

✮ pt 8 — sukuna’s noticeable bulge at the gym

✮ pt 9 — high stakes no nut november edition

✮ pt 10 — holiday special: grinch!kuna naughty or nice

✮ pt 11 — sukuna leaves his door open when you’re over

✮ pt 12 — sukuna realizes you’re ovulating. skinny dipping

✮ visuals ✮ ig ✮ bts lore ✮ playlist ♪ ✮ tiktok tag ✮

✮ pinterest board ✮ ask tag ✮ main masterlist ✮ ao3 ✮

[ INFO ] : the chapters are the actual series. it begins mid-spring semester JUNIOR year. the parts exist in the same story, but as stand alone canon oneshots and will not be mentioned in the chapters (like filler eps). they take place between sept-nov fall semester of their SENIOR year [parts and chps can be read separately]

THERE IS NO SERIES TAGLIST ✦ age should be visible on your blog tho (art: @/xhealer_ tt, dividers: @/lariesographic)

all rights reserved to ©spideyyeet

11 hours, 34 minutes, and 34 seconds. then 40. then more. sukuna counts them all without meaning to, like something wired too deep into him to stop. each second stretching, dragging, carving itself into his bones as time refuses to move fast enough.

his eyes burn, raw and unforgiving, a kind of ache he’s never known. not even in those long, merciless nights bent over a laptop back in his college days. this is worse. dark circles bruise the skin beneath his eyes, lashes still damp.

he sits rigid in a cheap, dark blue hospital chair, one that creaks every time he so much as breathes too deeply, yet he hasn’t moved from it in hours. maybe longer. his body feels locked in place, but his mind drifts, slipping in and out of a dull haze until the sound of a door jolts him upright again, sharp, alert, feral in the way his gaze snaps toward it. every time without fail. his hands rest on his knees, fingers twitching, trembling despite himself, nails pressing into fabric as if grounding himself is the only thing keeping him together.

the baby is fine. he knows she is. he’s checked too many times for anyone to comment on without risking the look he’d give them. each visit ends the same way: standing on the other side of the glass, large hand pressed flat against it, breath fogging the surface as something unfamiliar tightens in his chest. he doesn’t stay long. he can’t. not when you’re not there.

everything in him had gone cold— no, empty the moment they rushed you away. the world had narrowed down to the sight of you on that bed, face twisted in pain, your fingers clutching his with a strength that spoke of fear you rarely ever showed. and he had felt it too, sharp and suffocating, coiling tight in his chest in a way he couldn’t fight, couldn’t control.

then a clipboard had been shoved into his line of sight, a nurse speaking too quickly. “mr. ryomen, you need to sign this form in case the baby—”

“my wife.”

his voice had cut through hers without hesitation. not loud nor panicked. just final.

for a moment, everything had stilled. even you had looked at him, eyes wide despite the pain. He hadn’t even looked back at the paper.

“i choose my wife.”

after that, they had forced him out, the doors closing between you with a finality that made something ugly claw at his ribs. since then, all he’s done is wait, endless, suffocating waiting, counting seconds like they’re the only thing he has left to hold onto.

people came. of course they did. gojo, loud and insufferable even in a hospital, arms filled with gifts that cost more than necessary. geto, calm, offering congratulations that barely registered. toji lingering off to the side, megumi in his arms as he tried, awkwardly, to show him the newborn through the glass, jin nearby with itadori and choso, their presence filling the hallway with low conversation and quiet excitement.

sukuna acknowledged none of it beyond a glance at best.

because none of it mattered.

not the gifts, not the voices, not the child he had already seen and silently loved.

the only thing on his mind was you.

his wife.

“mr. ryomen?”

his name lands and something in him snaps taut and slack all at once. sukuna is on his feet before he’s fully aware of moving, the chair scraping faintly behind him. the sudden shift makes his vision tilt for a second, exhaustion catching up, but he steadies through it, jaw set, legs carrying him forward even as they threaten to give.

“she’s awake, everything is stable. you may see her now.”

that’s all he needs.

the door barely has time to open before he’s through it, pace quick, bordering on reckless, yet each step feels impossibly heavy as the weight of the past hours clings to him, refusing to let go. the sterile white of the room greets him, too bright, too clean, and then—

you.

everything else falls away.

you’re laid against the stark sheets, small in a way he’s never seen you before, exhaustion carved into every line of your face, the aftermath of something brutal and beautiful all at once. you look fragile. spent. human.

and still— still you’ve never looked more perfect to him.

his chest tightens, something sharp and overwhelming lodging itself beneath his ribs as his eyes lock onto yours. they find him easily, soft despite the fatigue, a faint smile ghosting over your lips as your hand lifts, barely reaching for him.

“my love…” your voice is hoarse, worn thin, and it nearly undoes him.

he closes the distance in seconds, dropping to his knees at your bedside without care for anything else, large hand immediately enclosing yours as if to confirm you’re real, warm and alive. here. he brings it to his face, pressing slow, reverent kisses to your knuckles, your palm, your wrist, lingering like he’s trying to memorize the feel of you all over again.

something wet slips against your skin.

“ryo…?” your voice is softer now, concerned, your fingers twitching as if to pull away, but he doesn’t let go not out of force, never that, but out of something far more desperate.

he tightens just enough to keep you there, head bowed, shoulders trembling in a way that doesn’t belong to a man like him.

“there…” his voice catches, rough, uneven, breath hitching as the memory crashes back; your face twisted in pain, the sound of it, the helplessness of being torn away. his brows pull together sharply, grip faltering for a second before tightening again. “there won’t be another.”

he presses another kiss to your skin, slower this time. like sealing a vow into you.

“there won’t be another,” he repeats, quieter, but no less absolute.

you blink at him, caught off guard, and then despite everythin a soft, breathy laugh escapes you. “don’t be stupid, ryo.”

his head lifts just enough for you to see the way his expression twists, raw and unguarded, eyes rimmed red, lashes clumped.

“i don’t—” his breath stutters, voice breaking in a way he doesn’t bother to hide, “—want to see you like that again.” his hand curls into the sheets beside you, gripping the fabric tight as if grounding himself, “not like that. not ever.”

you soften instantly, both hands coming up carefully to cradle his face, guiding him closer despite the way he resists for half a second.

“did you see her?” you murmur, thumb brushing beneath his eye, catching the dampness there.

he nods, quick, almost eager despite everything, leaning into your touch without thinking. “i did… but—” his voice drops, “i wanted to see my wife.”

“oh, ryo…” you pull him closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, then the bridge of his nose, and finally his lips; soft, lingering, tasting faintly of salt.

he exhales against you, eyes closing briefly, forehead coming to rest against yours as his hand finds its place around yours again, unwilling to let go.

“there won’t be another,” he says, quieter now. final.

you study him for a moment. at the fear still lingering beneath the surface, and the love that outweighs everything else, and your expression softens into something certain.

“okay,” you whisper, brushing your nose against his. “there won’t.”

to gift like a cat ~ sukuna

tonight i’m thinking about sukuna and his weird love for being able to eye all your hair accessories.

it is absolutely no secret that even to what we may consider tall, he will always be taller. a hulking curse of a man…

and maybe at first he likes to tease you, how fragile, small, so awfully human you are. that he can tug you into his space with a finger lodged in a belt loop. that you weirdly slot ever so perfectly against him.

but slowly as time goes on, and the both of you wander through the mundane details of life. each time he looks down at you, he catches a glimpse of one of the many hair accessories you own.

he’d never met anyone who liked to adorn their hair as much as you did, truly it was a spectacle, bumbling into your room only to find a plethora of accessories scattered across the floor.

“what a mess” he’d mutter, no malice in his voice as he takes a seat beside you.

“i can’t decide what matches this outfit best” you would tell him, rummaging through another full box.

and he would sign, unsure as to why such a trivial matter had taken up so much of your time.

“no one but me can see the top of your head anyways”

and you’d pause at that, blinking. and you suppose he was right.

“so it’s no matter what you wear because i am the only one who can truly appreciate it”

you’d lean into his side, “then it is even more important that i choose the prettiest. i like to look lovely for you”

he’d hum, “though you always look lovely”

and after that he would likely notice it more. floral patterns on headbands, or glittery hair pins, clips, flowers.

and though he complains each morning as sit and sort through so many decorations for your hair, you’d never comment on how something new shows up each week, sat wrapped on top of a new chest designated for all the new accessories sukuna liked to buy you.

(true form!sukuna x chubby!reader) | fluff/ crack / suggestive

you were convinced sukuna was somehow made for cuddling.

four large arms wrapped around you, holding you close — broad chest pressed against your back, large body radiating constant heat.

you had your head resting on his bicep, the size of it basically acting as a slightly smaller, more comfortable version of a pillow. sukuna had another arm draped around your waist, hand splayed across your soft tummy, the other two arms in similar positions. he was practically squeezing you in his sleep.

when you stir during the night, he tightens his hold, securing you against him further so you can’t leave. not even for a second.

you were both warm and drunk with sleep, the soft morning sun beginning to beam through the windows.

you stir first.

a lazy sigh, a soft shift of your hips, body dying to stretch its muscles. you peek behind you, catching sight of sukuna’s sleeping form, four eyes glued shut — pink hair messy in the best way.

you wriggle a little, cautious you don’t wake the grumpy cute beast behind you. the moment you move more than an inch, one of sukuna’s eyes snap open, watching you try to slide out from beneath his arms.

"no." he doesn’t say much — he doesn’t need to. sukuna could keep you curled up next to him for eternity if he wanted. you were helpless against him, especially when he was needy like this.

he tightens his arms further, pulling you back against his chest with a lazy grumble. your soft curves only made sukuna want to keep you in bed with him longer — your body was so supple, so cozy.

"kuna, i need to use the bathr-"

"quiet."

you sigh quietly, desperate to stretch your legs and empty your bladder, or even just have a second to breathe without being crushed by the grumpy oversized cat behind you.

"i can’t hold it much longer-" you warn, squirming sukuna’s hold again, pinching his arm in protest. he doesn’t move, not even a millimetre, your protests falling on deaf ears. "kunaaaa!" you whine.

"i do not care, woman. disturb my slumber again and i will eat you," he mumbles, throwing empty threats around like he actually means them. he lets out a sound that could only be described as half whine, half growl, setting back in.

you giggle lightheartedly, wiggling your ass against him in a playful manner. you may have to resort to other techniques to get the man to release you from his iron grip. "…oh yeah?"

sukuna cracks an eye open again, one hand finding your hip, halting your movements. "you have woken me up. do not wake them also," he rasps, trying to ignore the two growing bulges under the sheets.

"let me use the bathroom and i’ll say good morning to you properly," you grin, grinding your full ass against his crotch. he hums lowly, clearly satisfied with this idea, yet slightly irritated he’d have to spend a few minutes without you curled up against him.

slowly, he relaxes his grip, letting you slither away towards the bathroom. "be quick, woman."

he already missed you.

a/n; i wrote this after a few cocktails so… here’s this i guess… sorry it’s so short ugh (also this isn’t part of chubby concubine series i hope i made that clear idk LOL)

art by chucklenuts on x !!

On Friday nights, people either go out partying or stay home and chill, doing what they enjoy. That’s something you liked to do, but that all changed when you ended up in a relationship.

You and Gojo have been on a movie marathon since 5PM, and it’s well past midnight now. Let’s just say the Netflix ‘Are you still watching?’ question has been on your TV screen for the past three hours.

Currently, you were getting fucked so hard, bent before the vast glass window overlooking a city alive with lights. Although your attention wasn’t on anything outside, it was on your boyfriend's girthy dick plunging in and out of your gummy walls.

It was Gojo’s idea to fuck you in front of the window. His words were: “I want everyone to see my pretty girl and how she takes this dick.”, and without a second thought, you agreed.

Your back was against his chest, both hands on the now foggy window. Meanwhile, Gojo couldn’t get enough of you—his hands roaming all over your body. Gripping your waist, while the other moved up toward your tits, giving them a harsh squeeze, which had you whimpering in return.

“Taking this dick so well, you’re so fucking perfect. God, I love you.” He rambled on completely out of his mind. His praises made you look up at him, your head resting on his shoulder.

His eyes were half-lidded, staring directly into your soul. The kind of look that always had your stomach tingling and the wetness between your thighs growing more.

“Please, please. Don’t stop,” you whined, pushing your hips back into him. The tip of his dick kissing your cervix.

Gojo’s eyes rolled back into his skull, his plump lips parted—panting so hard, it sounded as if he just ran a 20-mile marathon. “Ngh- baby, if you do that, I might actually cum inside you.”

You turn your attention back to the city, and then an idea of something completely new to you pops inside your fucked out brain. “Cum inside me, in front of the—Fuck just like that—city.”

After being together for nearly a year, he still hasn’t been able to cum inside you. You both just didn’t want to risk having a kid, but how hot he was looking and the feeling of his thrusts against you had you not caring about anything.

He quickly snapped his eyes open; his hips fluttered for half a second as an eyebrow raised. “You… are you sure?”

“Please.” You nodded immediately, licking your lips. “I need it.”

With that, his dick twitched inside you. One of his hands moved to the back of your spine, bending you down into a biggg arch. Your legs wobbled beneath your weight; the left side of your face squished against the cold windowpane.

He bit his lip at the sight of you, both hands now gripping your waist as his pace began to fuck you harder and faster. You cried out, nails digging into the window. Probably leaving scratches- not like you both cared anyway.

“Yeah? You want my cum inside you?” His gaze dropped down, watching his cock slide in and out of you, then glancing back up. “My needy girl wants my cum dripping from her pussy, huh?”

“Mhm!” You couldn’t mutter a single word. You were starting to feel so overstimulated with how full you felt, plus you both have been fucking like rabbits—without taking a single break.

He leaned over, his chest against your back. He sank his teeth into your neck, leaving yet another mark on your delicate skin. His eyes didn't look away from your face.

You turned your head as far as you could, your lips puckering in a silent invitation for him to kiss you. He met your lips right away; it was a sweet kiss you both shared over the years.

He bit your lip hard enough to draw the slightest amount of blood. You moaned against his lip, your lips parting. He slid his tongue inside your mouth instantly; the feeling made your head dizzy.

It’s surprising to this day how good he can kiss. Even though you were his first girlfriend, his first kiss. First everything in general, but honestly you loved every bit of it.

And as time went on, the kiss became deeper. Tongues fighting for dominance, with each of you refusing to give in. Gojo’s hand traveled up to your neck, his large palm settling against your skin before his fingers squeezed firmly.

He pulled away from the kiss, just enough to speak. Both of your breaths were mixing together as you looked into each other’s eyes.

His eyebrows furrowed up, and you could tell he was trying his hardest not to roll his eyes back into his skull again. You also know he was so close to cumming.

“You gonna cum, baby?” Your voice was in that sweet tone that had him whimpering in response. You lifted your hand from the cool window, moving your arm behind you until your fingers disappeared into his messy white hair.

His thrust grew sloppier with each move, his thighs hitting the back of your ass. Gojo moved his hand down your body, feeling you up before landing between your thighs. His middle finger rubbed against your clit, fast.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, yes I’m gonna cum.” He grunted, throwing his head back, eyes closing tightly, mouth gapped open. The grip on your waist tightened enough for his knuckles to turn white.

His throat bobbing, hips meeting your ass as his cum spilled all over your walls. Painting your insides white. The new sensation of being filled to the brim made your own release wash over you. Your legs became weak as tears began to form in the corner of your eyes.

“Fuck!” You cried out, slamming your hand back onto the window. The contact made a big bang, which, surprisingly, none of you noticed.

Your mind was absolutely scrambled, lost in the orgasm he just gave you. Probably the best one you've experienced together, and if it wasn’t for his arms holding you up, you would’ve fallen to the ground.

He held you close to his chest, panting into your ear. Overcoming his own release. Then he slowly pulled out of your pussy, watching as his dick fell out. “holy shit.”

You turned your head to face him. “Hm?”

He leaned down, cracking a hand over your plush cheek. You whine out at the contact, but he doesn’t take any of notice of it, his attention stuck on him spreading your ass cheeks apart and watching as his cum drip out of you, “This is the hottest shit I’ve ever seen.”

“Stop! You’re gonna get it on the carpet.” You complained, slapping his shoulder. He shook his head, chuckling—not long before running his finger between your slit, gathering up every drop of the white liquid that slipped out of you.

He stood up to his full height, moving his finger to your lips. “Open.”

You locked eyes with him, slowly opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue. With that, he stuck his finger into your mouth. Immediately, you sucked on it, whining at the taste.

His dick got hard right away. He pulled his fingers out, leaning down, meeting your lips in another harsh kiss. The taste of both of you lingering on his tongue drew a low groan from him against your lips before he slowly pulled away.

”Just letting y'know, i'm cumming inside you all the time now.”

sorry if this is ass, i have no clue what i’m doing 😣.

gulps first time in a while writing smut, please don’t hate…

“You’re doing so well. Fuck, keep your tongue out juuust like that.” Sukuna purred, looking down at you. You were planted on your knees, both hands placed innocently in your lap, gaze locked onto crimson eyes.

For the past hour, he had been teaching you how to give a good blowjob. You were totally fucked out, completely forgotten how you ended up in this situation—especially with a man who had a reputation for having girls running out of the room, bursting into tears.

But you didn’t care about that, and besides, you were getting the hang of it. At first, you didn’t even know what to do with your hands or mouth when his dick was right in front of your face. You wouldn’t admit it, but it scared you. Not because of anything bad, but because of how big it was.

It was as big as your face; it was at least eight inches or more, and you’ve never seen a cock this big- well, at least face to face. You may or may not have watched a bunch of videos of guys jerking off on Twitter, but seeing it in real life. You couldn’t deny that it made you nervous.

Sukuna bit his lip while a tattooed hand gripped your hair tightly; the other hand held the base of his cock, slapping the tip against your flattened tongue. His abs flexed at the sight. Your pupils were blown with lust, and drool was dripping down the side of your chin. You looked like a slut.

What made Sukuna even more turned on by this whole situation was that you were the shy, nerdy girl in his class, and when you first asked him to teach you how to give a blowjob, for the first time in his life, he was stunned.

No one would've thought you would ask something along those lines. But you wanted to learn, plus you also wanted to try it out for the first time. But with the way Sukuna was groaning your name like he was getting the best dick sucking of his life. It seems you may not need this teaching.

"Let's see how pretty you look with my cock on your face. Hm?" You nodded rapidly as your tongue slid back into your mouth. Sukuna smirked, watching as you closed your eyes when he dragged his cock around your face.

“Enjoying this?” You murmured, peeking one eye open to stare up at the pink-haired man. He shrugged, moving his length to the side of your nose.

“I don’t know, am I?” He teased, flashing pearly white teeth. The same grin you always saw when he was being egotistical—you tried your hardest not to roll your eyes.

“Seems like it…”

Sukuna doesn’t respond. Instead, He placed his hand flat around his cock while the other hand that was gripping your hair moved slowly down to your neck, holding onto it tightly. Not enough to cut your airway, but enough where you felt the rough pressure in his grip.

“Shh and be a good girl.” He began to thrust into his hand. It was slow in the beginning, his gaze heavily locked on you. As if he was admiring the way his cock looked, rubbing against your skin.

Sukuna couldn’t deny that this was the kinkiest shit he’s ever done with a girl. All the other times he had fucked someone, it was either too vanilla or the girls wouldn’t be into the stuff he was into. They’d either decline or think he was weird.

But now that he’s thinking about it, he may have found the one for him. Who knew the nerdy girl could be as kinky as he is?

You were completely cock drunk again—mind hazy, your thoughts tangled until they barely made sense anymore. Eyes fluttering shut, your mouth gapped open as you withdrew your tongue, slurping and licking the side of Sukuna's length that was right in front of your mouth.

His massive hand roamed all across your face as he continued to thrust faster against your face. His Eyebrows furrowed—lifting up- while his plump lips parted slightly.

You hollowed your cheeks, and the feeling alone could’ve made Sukuna cum in an instant. You whined against his cock, moving a hand up the front of his leg; the tip of your nails dug into his skin, making him hiss.

It was so messy. Spit all over your face, your hair sticking against the side of your cheek. The sound of him groaning, you slurping all over his dick and your muffled whimpers filled the room. It looked and sounded like something straight out of a porn film, or the kind of scene you’d only expect in a feverish dream.

“Who knew you were such a slut for cock.” He murmured, his voice raspy and filled with lust. You opened your eyes at his degradation. Peering through your lashes, your eyes caught onto his. You didn’t feel any sense of shame. If anything, you felt more turned on.

Without thinking, you moved your hand between your thighs, pushing your panties to the side, not long before you begin to rub slow circles around your clit, the sensation immediately made you whimper against him.

“Fuck, you're so hot,” Sukuna rasped, quickly moving his length from your face—which makes you whine in protest. Holy shit, you were cock drunk for him.

“Hey! Wha… What are you doing?” You questioned, as an eyebrow raised, flopping down both hands on your lap.

He chuckled at your neediness, pumping himself right in your face. Pre-cum spilled out from his pink tip, and you couldn’t help but want to clean up all the salty-sweet slick.

“You look pretty with my cock on your face.” His teeth sank into his swollen bottom lip. “Now I want to see how good you look with my cum on it.”

the biggest giant ⟡ ݁₊ fluff & sukuna x reader

sukuna was tall. you often got neck cramps because he always wanted you looking in his eyes as he talked, but you happened to break your neck every time.

it wasn't just that either. every hug you gave him had your head pressed right up to his chest. you couldn't even reach his shoulder. he would pick you up just so you could rest your head on his shoulder.

sukuna had complaints too. he would quite literally break his back every time he kissed you. he swore he was starting to look like a shrimp as time went on. you were just too tiny.

even though he broke his back at every kiss, he loved how short you were. he loved picking you up and setting you on the counter. he still had to lean down to kiss you but it wasn't as much.

he loved how easy it was to grab and pick you up. if he wanted you on his lap, all he had to do was pull you by your waist. if you were in his way, he would just pick you up and set you aside.

you hated when he did that, but he found it hilarious.

the height difference never bothered sukuna, it was just an added bonus to loving you.

he would never ever wish you grew taller. you were perfect just the way you were.

well that, and he also loved seeing the top of your head.

—mrs. steal your girl!

"ryo. ryo, ryo, ryo, i don't know what to get!" you pout, extending a leg underneath the table to graze your husband's calf as he grunts, brows pinched together in concentration as he stares down at the menu

"doesn't matter. i'm ordering half the stuff they have here anyway... you hungry for dessert too?" he questions, and you give him a deadpan look before he dramatically rolls his eyes, eliciting a giggle from you that has the corner of his mouth tipping upwards in a smirk

"fatty," he murmurs, and you make a point to dig the tip of your heel into his shoe, yet even through the pain, he maintains that annoying grin, and you shake your head with a laugh

the restaurant sukuna chose to take you out to tonight was located on the outer edges of the city near the water. your seating is overlooking the ocean, and you're not sure where you should stare—either at the lapping waves shimmering underneath the sparkling sun, or at your husband (an equally irresistible sight). he's wearing a tight black shirt with the first few buttons open, revealing the intricate details of his tattoos and the large expanse of his muscles and chest

a waitress eventually approaches your table. she's pretty—tall, lean, and wearing a dark red lipstick that suits her well—and you feel your heart sink a bit. you're sure she was staring at your table earlier, and you'd already assumed she was keeping an eye out on sukuna. almost subconsciously, you sit a little taller in your chair as she greets you two

"hello! i hope you guys are doing well. what can i get started?" she starts in an extra sweet voice, and you avoid her eyes and instead drum a single manicured finger against the table to distract yourself

you know you have nothing to feel insecure about, but anyone would feel a bit down if attractive women were constantly hitting on their husband, right?

without looking up, sukuna starts

"i'll have a plate of crab cakes, four fish tacos, one chicken marsala, one miso marinated black cob, two fettuccini pastas, one lobster ravioli, and one lava cake—and the center of it better not be undercooked. my wife doesn't like whenever it happens and i want her dessert to be nothing short of perfection." sukuna finishes, and the waitress looks genuinely distressed as she quickly jots down everything he said

"uhm, and all that is for just the two of you?" she questions hesitantly, and sukuna's gaze snaps up with a scowl

"yeah. and?"

you try to stifle your laughter as she quickly shakes her head with a smile, still writing everything down. your husband was... a bit of a big eater.

"no, no, i was just wondering— oh. did you say wife?" she frowns, and you try not to wince at twinge of disappointment in her voice

"if you were thinking i'm single, you're out of luck." sukuna states boldly, not bothering to give her any further attention as he folds up the menu and hands it to her

"uhm... i wasn't wondering about you. i was wondering about you." — and suddenly her gaze is pinned on you, and your eyes widen a fraction

"me?" you squeak in disbelief, and she smirks. it's cocky and slanted and it instantly reminds you of your husband's habit when he's teasing you, and you can't even try to hide the smile on your face as you cover it with your hand, caught off gaurd and embarrassed

"yes, you. you are beautiful. so, are you happily married to this guy, or just marri—"

"that's enough." sukuna stammers, and he looks genuinely mortified by the look of curiosity on your face. you giggle, shaking your head

"thank you... you're very beautiful too." you smile, and she actually blushes at your words, telling you she'll be out with your food soon as she walks back inside the restaurant with a lot more pep in her step than before

sukuna reaches over to pull your hand out of your lap and onto the table, and he adjusts your ring with furrowed brows as you giggle

"ryo—"

"i can't believe that woman's audacity—hitting on my wife! when i get home, i am writing the most deplorable review of this restaurant." he snaps as you let out a sudden laugh

"don't be silly, you big grump! she was nice," you smile, and he drags a hand down his face as if this was the worst day of his entire life.

sukuna wasn't used to women hitting on you. no man ever tried because all six feet of your husband was always looming behind you like a guard dog just waiting to rip someone's head off for looking at you too long, but he never suspected he had to look out for women too!

his brows are furrowed as he rubs a thumb over the diamond on your ring finger, and your gaze softens before you cradle his own larger hand in your own and press a kiss onto his knuckles. he blinks at you a few times before turning away with a huff, the tips of his ears a light shade of pink

"you're mine. you'll never indulge in anyone that tries anything with you, right?" he murmurs, still staring at your interlocked hands as you pout

"of course not." you promise gently, and he seems satisfied by your response as he holds your hand firmly in his own

after a moment of thought, he opens his mouth once again

"do you think we should make out to confirm our status for everyone else here?"

"ryo!"

“come on babe it’s gonna look so cool!” you pleaded, giving him your best puppy eyes in another attempt to convince him.

you’d been scrolling through pinterest, following your nightly routine, when you came across a really cute couple pic where the guy had lipstick marks all over his bicep, maybe an overly used idea but you still found it pretty cute. and well, safe to say the idea had been stuck in your head for a week before you finally decided to play dirty and convince him to recreate the exact same picture for your perfected instagram feed.

and in your book, playing dirty meant mean puppy eyes and pouty lips with glossy tears sitting tightly on the edge of your lashes, threatening to spill over them.

a sight you knew he was hopelessly weak for.

you grinned to yourself. he was as grumpy as ever, letting out a long groan before throwing an arm over his eyes in a poor attempt to ignore you. huge mistake.

you were sitting on top of him while he lay sprawled across couch with his legs hanging over the armrest. fond as he was of summer, he wasn’t exactly immune to the dry heat that came with it and now he was dealing with a persistent headache for days, causing him to lay in the same spot for hours until the sun went down. currently, he was in his fourth hour of the day.

“babee,” you whined with the exact pout you knew he could never resist.

he groaned again, one hand instinctively settling around your waist to steady you. “y’know you’re a fucking menace.”

you grinned. “does that mean yes?”

a tight silence stretched across his features. he sighed as his voice crawled up to a tone so defeated.

“do whatever you want.”

you let out an excited squeal, a scream of victory, before immediately reaching for the red lipstick.

ever since you’d started dating, you’d realized no matter how stubborn or intimidating he could be, never before had it seem as he had the determination to say a simple ‘no’ to you. at first he’d been genuinely confused by it, convinced there had to be some scientific explanation for why he was physically incapable of rejecting you. well, the explanation he came up with was that he was just a guy so in love. a guy weak and devoted in love.

he seemed to accept this half scientific explanation he had for himself wholeheartedly. he was a weak man.

come get a 𑣲𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 like me-gumi . . .

art cr @ kimama__12 on x

꣑ৎ MEGUMI HAD ALWAYS THOUGHT HE WAS A DECENT PERSON :)

quiet, maybe. emotionally constipated, according to nobara, which felt rude but not entirely false. he was blunt when embarrassed, painfully calm when he didn’t know what to do with his feelings, and weirdly committed to pretending he didn’t care whenever you stole his hoodies, even though he kept leaving them in places you could easily find.

then he started dating you.

and apparently, dating you had reduced him to some sort of victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time.

three months into the relationship, and megumi still acted like your touch needed a warning label. you could kiss his cheek outside the campus library and he would look away like he had just been caught committing tax fraud. you could lean against his side during movie night, warm and sleepy, and his whole body would go still for half a second before he remembered that boyfriends were, in fact, allowed to be held.

you thought it was cute.

megumi thought he needed professional help.

because it wasn’t just the soft things anymore. it was the way your shirt slipped off your shoulder when you stretched. the way your thighs pressed together when you sat on his bed. the way you looked after training, skin warm from the sun, hair messy, laughing with your water bottle pressed to your lips like you weren’t personally dragging his self-control behind a building.

he wanted to be normal about you. really, he did. you were his girlfriend, not some divine punishment sent to test whether his dignity could survive physical affection. you deserved a boyfriend who was calm, respectful, and not quietly combusting every time you hugged him a little too close.

megumi tried very hard to be that boyfriend.

unfortunately, wanting you had started eating through his self-control like a curse with expensive taste.

the dreams came first. vivid, feverish, humiliating things that left him waking up with a harsh gasp, his hips jerking up into the mattress to chase a ghost. your voice would linger near his ear. your skin would press flush against his. your mouth would be somewhere it shouldn’t be yet, sweet and needy and completely unfair. the details always blurred as reality crashed in, but the physical aftermath was painfully clear. he’d snap awake aching and rock hard, his chest heaving in the quiet dark, the front of his sleep pants ruined and uncomfortably sticky. he would just lie there, face burning into his pillow, before dragging himself out of bed to wash the evidence away, feeling like an absolute criminal by morning.

every time, it was you.

of course it was you.

you were his first serious girlfriend. the first person he actually wanted to be good for. the first person who made him think about things he immediately wanted to bury under concrete and never speak of again. maybe, hopefully, someday you would be his first in other ways too.

the thought alone made him shove his face into his pillow and silently consider becoming religious.

oh, he was so cooked.

the worst part started after evening training.

the campus field was still warm from the afternoon sun, grass damp beneath everyone’s shoes, the air filled with the sound of yuji complaining that nobara kept aiming for his head. you had dropped your gym bag near megumi’s by the benches, half-zipped because you never really closed anything properly, then wandered off to refill your water bottle.

megumi had summoned rabbit escape for control practice. nothing serious, just a few white rabbits scattering through the grass while yuji tried not to step on them and nobara accused him of weaponizing cuteness. one of the rabbits, smaller than the rest and apparently born with no morals, hopped toward your open bag.

megumi saw the flash of pink before anyone else did.

his body went very still.

the rabbit tugged something soft from the side pocket and sat there proudly, your panties caught between its little teeth like it had just won a prize.

megumi moved so fast he almost tripped.

he scooped the rabbit up, turned his back to the field, and pulled the fabric away before yuji could glance over. his heart was beating too hard for something that was, technically, laundry. just laundry. normal laundry. laundry that absolutely should have gone straight back into your bag like a normal boyfriend with a normal brain would do.

“don’t,” he whispered to the rabbit.

the rabbit blinked.

you called his name from across the field, smiling as you lifted your water bottle. “gumi, you okay?”

megumi panicked.

he shoved the fabric into the pocket of his track jacket.

“yeah,” he called back, voice flat enough to pass as normal if nobody looked too closely. “fine.”

just for now, he told himself. he would put it back later. when nobody was looking. when his pulse stopped acting like he had robbed a bank.

꣑ৎ DECENT PERSON, MY ASS.

that night the dorm room was too quiet. megumi sat on the edge of his bed with the lights off, only the faint glow from the campus path outside slipping through the blinds. the pink panties were still in his pocket. he hadn’t even taken his jacket off yet. his fingers brushed the soft fabric when he finally reached in, and the second he pulled them out his stomach flipped.

he should throw them back in the drawer. he should wash them. he should do anything except what he was about to do.

instead he leaned back against the pillows, breath already shaky, and unfolded the delicate pink material. the little bow caught on his thumb. the scent of you—warm skin, faint floral detergent, the ghost of your body—hit him so hard his cock twitched instantly in his sweats.

“fuck… i’m sorry,” he muttered, like you could hear him. like apologizing to the empty room would make this less pathetic.

he shoved his sweats and boxers down just enough, his cock springing free, already flushed and leaking. he wrapped the panties around his length slowly, the silky fabric cool against hot skin, and the first stroke pulled a quiet, broken sound from his throat. the little bow dragged under the head and his hips jerked up without permission.

megumi closed his eyes and let the thoughts flood in.

he imagined you in his lap, thighs spread over his, wearing nothing but that exact pair. the way you’d smile at him all teasing and fond when you felt how hard he was. the way you’d rock against him, grinding the soft fabric right against his cock while you kissed that spot under his jaw that always made him weak. your voice in his ear, low and sweet, calling him “gumi” like you knew exactly what you did to him.

his hand moved faster, twisting a little at the head, the soaked panties sliding obscenely over his shaft. pre-cum darkened the pink almost immediately. he pictured pushing the fabric aside, sliding his fingers through your slick folds instead, hearing that tiny gasp you made whenever he touched you somewhere new. he wanted to bury his face between your thighs and stay there until you were shaking. wanted to hear you moan his name while he finally pushed inside you, slow and careful and so fucking deep.

“shit— you’d feel so so hng g-good,” he whispered, voice hoarse. his strokes turned messy, desperate. the wet sound of fabric and skin filled the room and it only made him harder. “so warm… so tight… f-fuck, i want you so bad—”

the guilt twisted sharp in his chest, but it only made the heat worse. he was disgusting. he was a terrible boyfriend. and still, he couldn’t stop. he pressed the panties tighter in his fist, close enough to feel the soft fabric against his palm, imagining your hand instead, your mouth, the way you’d look up at him with that bright, wicked little smile while you took him apart.

his thighs tensed. his free hand fisted the sheets. when he felt himself getting close, some ridiculous, half-functioning part of his brain still had the nerve to panic.

not on them.

megumi jerked the fabric away at the last second like it was something precious, something he had no right to ruin, and buried his face into his forearm as the feeling hit him hard and sudden. his hips stuttered, breath breaking into a choked sound he barely managed to swallow, body trembling through every shaky wave until the room went quiet again.

for a long moment, he just lay there, chest heaving, staring at the ceiling like it might offer judgment. it didn’t, duh.

which was rude, honestly.

the pink panties were still clutched safely in his hand, untouched and soft, still carrying that faint trace of your perfume, your laundry soap, you. megumi looked at them through half-lidded eyes, flushed and ruined and still careful enough to fold them against his chest like that somehow made any of this less insane.

megumi, once again, told himself he would return it before this got any worse.

꣑ৎ JOKE’S ON YOU.

by the next afternoon, it had gotten worse.

not because of the drills, though they were annoying. not because yuji kept trying to turn sparring into a competition no one had agreed to. worse because you were sitting beside megumi on the bench, digging through your gym bag with a frown while he wrapped tape around his wrist and pretended the top drawer in his dorm didn’t exist.

“this is actually so annoying,” you said.

megumi kept his eyes on the tape. “what is?”

“my new pink pair is gone.” you pushed aside your towel, lip gloss, and spare shirt with growing offense. “i swear i put it in here after changing yesterday. it had a little bow and everything. very cute. now it’s missing.”

megumi’s fingers paused for one single heartbeat.

“maybe you left it in your room.”

“i checked.” you sighed like you had suffered a real tragedy. “twice. i think the campus laundry ghosts have chosen me.”

“sorry for your loss.”

“thank you. i’ll need snack compensation.”

“for underwear?”

“for emotional damage.”

he looked at you then, and you looked so genuinely annoyed that guilt twisted through him, sharp and hot. you weren’t suspicious. you weren’t accusing him. you were just talking to him the way you always did, dragging him into your little complaints because he was your boyfriend and that was supposed to mean something simple and safe.

megumi swallowed.

he would return it tonight.

probably.

training picked up again after that, saving him from having to speak. the two of you sparred under the sun until sweat slid down the side of his face and his black shirt stuck lightly to his back. you were quick today, playful, laughing whenever he dodged too easily and calling him a show-off when he pinned your wrist for half a second longer than necessary.

by the time you both stopped, megumi was warm, tired, and dangerously close to forgetting how to act normal.

he turned away and lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face.

the movement exposed his stomach.

you went quiet.

megumi lowered the fabric just enough to see you staring, eyes fixed on the lean lines of muscle along his abdomen and the sharp dip disappearing beneath the waistband of his sweats. your expression changed slowly, surprise melting into something bright and wicked.

“wow, ’gumi,” you said, stepping closer. “i didn’t know you had nice abs.”

his whole body locked. “don’t say it like that.”

“like what?”

“like you’re enjoying this.”

“i am enjoying this.”

that should not have affected him as much as it did.

you reached for him before he could escape, fingertips brushing the exposed skin near his ribs. megumi’s breath hitched so quietly he prayed you didn’t hear it. your touch slid lower, still teasing, still light, tracing the firm plane of his stomach until your fingers grazed the line near his hip.

his body betrayed him immediately.

megumi caught your wrist, quick but gentle, and shifted his hips back just enough to save what remained of his dignity. you blinked up at him, then smiled like you had just discovered something valuable and planned to become a menace about it.

“sensitive?” you asked.

“annoying,” he said, voice too low.

“you’re blushing.”

“it’s hot outside.”

“mhm.” your eyes flicked down for half a second. “sure.”

he was going to die on this field.

then yuji’s voice cut through the air like divine punishment. “are you two flirting or are we training?”

megumi let go of your wrist so fast it was embarrassing.

you only laughed, bright and shameless, before stepping back like you hadn’t just put him through five stages of grief in public. nobara, of course, saw enough to make her grin sharp.

“they’re flirting,” she said. “badly, but still.”

“we’re training,” megumi muttered.

“sure,” you said, attempting to tease him. “whatever helps you sleep at night.”

it did not help him sleep at night.

꣑ৎ SPICE UP UR LIFE, COME GET A FREAK LIKE ME(GUMI)...

later that day, after practice ended, megumi returned to his dorm alone and opened the top drawer. he stared at the folded pink fabric tucked beneath one of his shirts. outside his window, campus lights glowed soft and yellow. on his desk, his phone buzzed.

y/n: still mourning the pink pair </3

y/n: she was cute, she was soft, she was taken too soon ☹

y/n: snack compensation tomorrow? ✌︎㋡

megumi stared at the message until the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself.

then he looked at the drawer again. “i’m a terrible person,” he muttered.

from the corner of the room, one of the rabbits twitched its nose like it agreed.

he should have shut the drawer. he really should have.

instead, megumi opened it again, slow enough that the wood barely made a sound. the pink fabric sat folded beneath one of his shirts, soft and damning, carrying the faintest trace of your scent. his fingers curled around it before he could talk himself out of it, and for one shameful second, he pressed the fabric directly over his nose and mouth. his eyes fell shut as he dragged in a long desperate breath.

your scent—warm, sweet, and intoxicatingly familiar—flooded his lungs, pulling a low, ragged groan from the back of his throat. his knuckles turned white as his grip tightened.

oh, he was disgusting.

worse than that, he was hopeless.

because for all his restraint, all his discipline, all his quiet little attempts to be the perfect boyfriend you deserved, fushiguro megumi had one serious problem.

he was a freak for you.

and you still had no idea.

!nerdjo x reader | part 3

part 1 here! . part 2 here!

CW: NSFW. Masturbation. Watching porn.

cr: 3vangel1ne_ on X

When you arrived at the library on Friday afternoon, Satoru was already there.

He was sitting alone at a table tucked away in one of the quieter corners, a simple blue T-shirt stretched across his broad frame. His glasses rested neatly on the bridge of his nose as he stared intently at his laptop, white hair falling slightly over his forehead.

You lingered by the entrance for a moment, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag, before finally walking over.

"Hey" you said.

He looked up immediately. His expression softened into a small, genuine smile the second he saw you.

"Hey... you came."

"Of course I did."

"I, um..." He glanced at the cup sitting across from him. "I bought you coffee. It's just a latte. If you don't like it, that's okay. I didn't have your number, so I couldn't ask if you preferred oat milk or almond milk or—"

"Satoru," you interrupted, unable to hide your smile. "I like it. Thank you."

The tips of his ears turned a soft pink.

"...Okay" he mumbled, looking visibly relieved.

You settled into the chair across from him and pulled your notebooks from your bag. He tried to focus on his laptop, but you noticed how his eyes flicked up when you slipped off your jacket. The moment your gazes met, he quickly looked back down at his notes, his ears still flushed.

"So..." He cleared his throat. "Have you thought about what we should research?"

You paused as if considering his words, but you already knew what you were going to say. In fact, you'd known the moment you'd walked into the library. 

It was childish. Maybe even a little cruel. But after reading his reply the other night… You wanted to see his face when you said it.

You held his gaze.

"What about vancomycin?"

For a split second, something flashed across his face. His brows lifted ever so slightly. Surprise. Confusion. 

"...Vancomycin?"

You held his gaze.

"Yeah"

He stared at you for another beat. Then he blinked and gave a small, sheepish smile.

"I… wasn't expecting you to say that."

"Is that a bad idea?"

"No!" he answered a little too quickly. "No, not at all" He let out a quiet, shy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's actually one of my favorite antibiotics."

"Figures" you muttered before you could stop yourself.

Satoru blinked.

"I—sorry?"

Your eyes widened.

"Nothing"

He nodded and leaned forward slightly, visibly more comfortable now that the conversation had shifted to something academic. 

"We could focus on its mechanism of action and the molecular basis of resistance," he said, eyes lighting up behind his glasses. "There are a lot of interesting papers we could draw from. It could make for a strong presentation."

You nodded, trying to ignore how attractive he looked when he got excited about the topic.

"Sounds good to me."

For the next hour, the two of you worked quietly, reading through papers, comparing notes, and deciding which studies were worth including.

As you jotted down a few notes, your thoughts drifted back to the Q&A post.

There's this girl in my chem class

The blonde girl immediately came to mind. 

You glanced up from your notebook. Satoru was completely absorbed in the article in front of him, absently tapping his pen against the table as his brows furrowed in concentration.

A strange feeling settled in your chest.

Jealousy? 

…No. You barely knew him. 

"Replacing the amide linkage in D-Ala-D-Ala with an ester linkage in D-Ala-D-Lac alters both the hydrogen-bonding donor/acceptor capabilities and—"

He stopped.

"Are you... still with me?" He looked at you, searching your face with a mixture of concern and that characteristic, debilitating shyness. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Am I talking too much?"

His shoulders slumped just a little.

You blinked.

"No—no." You shook your head quickly. "I'm listening. Sorry... I'm just tired."

And catastrophically attracted to you.

Before he could apologize again, a familiar voice cut through the silence.

"There you are."

You looked up to see Shoko making her way through the library, one hand tucked into the pocket of her jacket. She smiled the moment she spotted you.

"I've been looking everywhere for—" She stopped mid sentence.

Her eyes landed on Satoru. Then on you.

Then back on Satoru.

Her eyebrows climbed almost to her hairline.

You already knew that look. With a quiet sigh, you slowly shook your head.

Don't.

Shoko pressed her lips together, clearly fighting back a grin.

"This is Shoko," you said, gesturing toward her. "My friend."

Satoru looked up from his laptop, sitting a little straighter.

"Oh… Nice to meet you."

Shoko smiled warmly.

"Likewise." She tilted her head ever so slightly, looking him over for just a second. "You have really pretty eyes."

Satoru visibly froze. His ears immediately flushed pink.

"T-Thank you."

Only then did Shoko turn back to you, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

"So," she said, as if she hadn't just short-circuited the poor guy, "you're still coming next Saturday, right?"

You frowned.

"...Next Saturday?"

"Choso's party?" she repeated.

You stared at her blankly.

"...There's a party?"

Shoko let out an exaggerated groan, dragging a hand down her face.

"Oh my God. The semester has completely eaten you alive. I've mentioned it, like... three times already. You are coming, though."

You winced.

"...Sorry."

She pointed a finger at you.

"You'd better be there."

You laughed softly.

"I will."

"Good."

With one last nod, Shoko turned to leave. As she walked past Satoru, she flashed him an easy smile.

"Bye, pretty eyes."

Satoru looked up, visibly caught off guard.

"O-Oh... bye."

She kept walking. Once she was behind him, she glanced back at you. Slowly, she mouthed—

Fucking. Handsome.

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a laugh.

The two of you worked for another fifteen minutes in comfortable silence before Satoru finally closed the article on his screen.

"...I think we have enough to get started," he said quietly. "We can call it a day, if you'd like."

You looked up from your notebook.

"Yeah. That sounds good."

Satoru closed his laptop and stood, instinctively ducking his tall frame beneath one of the low-hanging library lights. The motion was so natural it made something warm flutter in your chest.

"...See you in class, then."

You nodded, briefly distracted by how tall he looked standing so close. He offered you one last small, almost nervous smile before turning toward the exit.

"Wait."

He stopped mid-step and looked back at you.

You quickly tore a small sheet from your notebook and scribbled down your number before holding it out to him.

Satoru blinked in surprise.

"...My number," you said, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. "So we can plan another one." 

He accepted the paper carefully, as though he were afraid of crumpling it.

"I..." He cleared his throat. "...I'll text you later."

He paused, seeming to realize how that had sounded.

"...So you have my number too. I mean—for the project, of course."

You nodded.

"See you, Satoru."

With one last awkward nod, he turned and walked away a little faster than before.

—

A week slipped by faster than you expected.

He’d texted you just a few hours after you'd gotten back from the library that first Friday — a simple "Hey, this is Satoru" — and you’d saved his number with fingers that felt a little too eager.

Since then, the two of you had met once more. Working with him was surprisingly easy. Conversations flowed naturally when they stayed on the project, and before you knew it, you'd already finished nearly half of it in just two study sessions.

You'd done your best not to make things weird. Not to give yourself any more reasons to visit his page again.

But today...

You'd been walking down one of the science building's long hallways when you spotted him in the distance. The blonde girl was standing beside him again, talking animatedly about something you couldn't make out. 

Satoru listened quietly. Then, for whatever reason, he looked up. His eyes found yours from the other end of the hallway, surprise flashing across his face. He lingered there for a heartbeat before turning back to her. You watched his lips move.

"Okay."

That single word had been enough.

By the time you made it back to your room, your emotions were a tangled mess.

Jealousy. Want. Need. It was driving you insane.

Two glasses of wine later, the hesitation you usually carried melted away.

You chose the video he'd uploaded a couple days ago. The moment it started, your hand slipped between your thighs.

The camera was angled down over his body, capturing the subtle definition of his collarbones and the way his chest rose and fell with already shallow breaths. The grey sweatpants clung to his hips, the thick outline of his cock already straining against the soft fabric.

He didn’t start stroking right away. Instead, his large hand slowly dragged over the bulge, palm pressing down firmly, rubbing in lazy strokes. A low, shaky exhale escaped him.

Your fingers found your folds, already obscenely wet. You could feel your own slick coating your fingers as you started teasing your clit 

"Mmh… fuck," he whispered, voice already breathy. 

On the screen, his hips twitched upward into his own palm, chasing the pressure. He rubbed harder, fingers splaying wide so the heel of his hand dragged along the full length of his clothed cock. The fabric shifted, outlining every inch—thick, heavy, and clearly aching. 

"God… I need you to touch me. Please. I’ve been thinking about you all day."

The words hit you hard, jealousy flooding you once again. You weren't even lying to yourself anymore—you were fucking jealous. Yet, you were far too aroused, eyes fixed on the sight of his giant cock bulging against his sweatpants, stretching all the way to his pocket. 

Shit. 

Would you even be able to fit him inside?

He let out a broken little moan, rolling his hips again. The wet spot forming at the tip of his cock was starting to darken the grey material, and he traced it with two fingers.

"I'm already leaking so much… just for you. Look what you do to me." His voice cracked on the last word "I like you so much. You have no idea. You're so smart and you smiled at me today and I—ahh—fuck, I got hard right there like a fucking loser."

Your fingers moved faster, circling your clit as heat flooded your body. The way he said it—so raw and filthy—made you clench around nothing, your pussy aching for him, wishing he would just pull those damn sweatpants down once and for all.

He kept rubbing himself over the sweatpants, while his free hand fisted the sheets beside him, knuckles turning white. 

"I'm this needy because of you," he whimpered, the words tumbling out faster now. "Every time you looked at me I wanted to crawl under the table and beg ´Please… let me cum for you. I'll be so good. I'll do anything you want´"

He gripped himself through the sweatpants now—properly palming the thick length and stroking in long, firm pulls that made the material bunch and slide.

"I want you to feel how much I need you. I'd let you edge me for hours if that's what you wanted. I'd whimper your name until my voice gave out."

You couldn’t believe how dirty his mouth was. The contrast between the polite, slightly awkward Satoru and this desperate, whining version of him was making you lose your mind.

A soft, needy whine escaped him as he squeezed the head through the cloth. He was breathing harder now, little gasps and whimpers punctuating every stroke.

"F-fuck… I'm so sensitive today. Because of you. Because you sat in front of me, smelling like vanilla and coffee and I wanted to bury my face in your neck and—ahhn—beg."

You pushed two fingers inside yourself, biting your lip to hold back a moan as he shoved his sweatpants down and freed his cock. It slapped heavily against his stomach, thick and veiny—the same obscene, pretty cock you’d seen before. Your mouth watered at the view, and jealousy clouded your mind again, fueled by the overwhelming heat in your veins.  

You knew he wasn't thinking of you. He was thinking of her—the blonde girl who hovered in his orbit, who didn't know the dark, frantic secrets he kept behind the screen. You hated her for it, and yet, you were intensely, violently grateful that he was recording this. 

He wrapped his fingers around the base and squeezed, holding it there while his hips rolled in shallow thrusts, fucking into the tight ring of his fist slowly.

"Let me cum please, I beg you," he whined, voice pitching higher. The words were pure roleplay now, directed straight at the camera—at you. "I'll be your good boy. I'll hold it as long as you want."

His abs flexed with every thrust, thighs trembling as he fucked up into his fist harder.

"God, I'm so close already… but I don't want it to end. I want to stay like this for you. Needy and desperate and saying stupid shit because I can't think straight when It's about you"

His words kept pouring out — needy, filthy, and shockingly honest. The desperation in his voice, the way his thighs trembled and his abs flexed with every desperate thrust into his fist… it was too much.

He slowed down deliberately, teasing himself cruelly. The contrast was devastating—his body clearly aching for release, hips twitching uncontrollably, yet he kept himself on that edge.

You kept fucking yourself harder as he edged himself on camera, whimpering and begging for someone that wasn't you. 

A particularly sweet, broken moan tore from his throat as he finally sped up again.

"I'm gonna—fuck—please—"

"Fuck—" you moaned, finally hitting your own orgasm as his voice cracked beautifully on that last plea. Thick ropes of cum shot across his stomach and chest in powerful, rhythmic spurts.

You came with him, your thighs shaking, a broken whimper slipping past your lips. He milked every last drop, his body twitching with aftershocks until he was panting, spent, and trembling. 

You lay there in the dark, your heart hammering against your ribs, your pussy throbbing so hard it was almost painful.

When you finally caught your breath, your pulse still racing, your fingers moved to the comment section. 

"Vancomycin boy… you have no idea what you just did to me."

You knew then, with a dark, twisted certainty, that you no longer wanted to just watch him on a screen. You wanted to be the one making those whimpers rip from his throat—even if he was thinking of her instead.

Thank you so much for all the support this fic has received!! It made me so happy!! 🥹

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Reblogs are sooo appreciated ✨

taglist: @butterbeanandsparkleface @seungkwansflower @ninjaturtletoes @krispy7akay @wiserion @aaudreys @chosslut @erideight @quanxistoelicker @stuckinadream0 @nanahach1 @carcelswaifu @c4ndyyy @cridtiins @cupidslie @suguphile @msblyshie @ashtraaay @lovvsp @itsjustmesofiedk @cutiepie208 @gojodotexe @shinobui @emeraldlegacyobserver @ifartmatcha @sparklefarts214 @kissmekissmecure @di1f-lover @mafezinhasworld @skylaryippee @toru-saki @kun4ril @marsieonist @s3werslvtt @affinityblues @bat-brainzzz @ariilovesmoney @trizymiia @looha @megsbows @srslyoceans @whatsernamekei @gojoful @zlinguss @gabbiepickle @tootyallfarty @boomboom-tanjiro2019 @hauntedbyink @dasiybynight @winniethepoohjusttookapooh

The original taglist is full, but I'd be happy to add new requests to the overflow taglist. Thank you!! :)

˚₊‧‎ ♡ Cubicles & Confessions ‎♡ ‧₊˚

it was the third time this week. 

atop the mahogany desk sat a floral arrangement, along with the signature sticky note—blue today, written in it’s familiar, neat handwriting. 

‘prettiest flowers for the prettiest girl. 

–yours truly, your secret admirer.’ 

"your guy’s clearly consistent.”

The One They Don't Know

Dom!gojo, sub!reader, college au, p in v, unprotected, rough sex, dirty talk, oral (gojo receiving & you receiving), facefucking, pussy eating, fingering, creampies, squirting, spitting, overstimulation, manhandling, degradation, praise, and aftercare.

------------------------------------------------------------

Everyone thinks they know what Satoru Gojo is like in bed.

The rumors circulate through the sorority group chats, passed between girls who've never been within six inches of him but speak with authority anyway. They say he's probably shy. Too lanky to know what he's doing. The type who asks permission before holding your hand. They look at his round glasses and his messy white hair and the way he giggles at his own stupid jokes, and they decide: harmless. Sweet. A little pathetic, maybe.

You let them think that.

You sit in the dining hall while your friends dissect him over iced coffees, and you nod along. You let them call him cute, innocent, probably a virgin. You let your roommate tell you that you could do better, that frat boys who look like librarians are never any good in bed, and you just stir your straw through the melting ice and say nothing.

Because if you opened your mouth, you'd tell them the truth.

That Satoru Gojo has hands that know exactly where to go. That he talks dirty like he's reciting poetry — low and unhurried, like he's been saving up the words all day. That the same fingers that dog-ear his manga pages can make you fall apart in under a minute flat.

They don't know.

They've never seen the way his eyes go dark behind those glasses. Never heard the shift in his voice from honey to gravel. Never felt his palm wrap around their throat, gentle and final, while he leans down to whisper exactly what he's about to do.

But you have.

And every time, you forget. Every time, you let yourself believe the mask, too — that he's just your sweet, goofy boyfriend who brings you pastries from the campus bakery and kisses your forehead in the library stacks. He's so good at the soft version of himself that you almost believe it's all of him.

Until he gets you alone.

Until the door clicks shut.

---

It starts in his dorm room, like it always does.

You're sitting cross-legged on his bed, scrolling through your phone while he fusses with his bookshelf, arranging volumes of some sci-fi series for the third time this week. The late afternoon light cuts through the blinds in golden stripes across the floor. Everything is soft, domestic, ordinary.

He's wearing that oversized grey hoodie you love, the one with the frayed cuffs. His glasses are pushed up into his hair, and he's squinting at a crooked spine like it personally offended him.

"You're staring," he says without turning around.

"I'm appreciating."

He snorts. Shifts a book a millimeter to the left. Then another. You watch his hands — long fingers, elegant knuckles — and you think about how those same hands felt on your skin last night, and a heat climbs up the back of your neck.

"Done?" you ask.

"Almost." He moves a third book, then turns, finally, and gives you that sunshine smile. The one that makes freshman girls swoon in the student center. "Miss me?"

"You were three feet away."

"Three feet too many."

He crosses the room in four long strides and drops onto the bed beside you, all loose limbs and easy grace. The mattress dips. He's warm — he's always warm, like a furnace under all that lean muscle. His hand finds your thigh, casual, like he's not even thinking about it.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Mhm."

"Tired?"

"A little."

He hums, and his thumb starts tracing circles on your jeans. Slow. Soothing. "We can just hang out," he says. "Watch something. Order food."

It sounds so reasonable. So sweet. You almost believe he means it.

But you know him. You know the way his thumb is pressing just a little harder now, the way his breathing hasn't changed but something in the air between you has. You know he's testing, waiting to see if you'll call his bluff.

You don't.

"Actually," you say, and you're proud that your voice comes out steady, "I was thinking about something else."

"Hm?" Innocent. Wide-eyed. The mask.

You reach up and push his glasses back down onto his face, just to see the flicker — the way something sharp moves behind the lenses before the smile smooths it over again.

"Take them off," you say quietly.

And there it is.

The smile doesn't disappear, exactly, but it changes. Curves different. His hand on your thigh stops its lazy circles and squeezes, once, firm enough to make your breath catch.

"Yeah?" he asks, and his voice has dropped an octave.

"Yeah."

He takes his glasses off slowly, folds them, sets them on the nightstand. When he looks back at you, his eyes are the color of a summer storm — bright and dark at once, with nothing soft behind them.

"Use your words," he says, and now it's not a question. "Tell me what you were thinking about."

Your mouth goes dry.

"I was thinking about — about your mouth."

"Good start." He shifts closer, one knee sinking into the mattress between your thighs.

"And?"

"And your hands."

"Where?"

Everywhere, you want to say. But the word sticks, because he's looking at you like he's already undressed you, like he knows every inch of you and is deciding where to start.

"Around," you manage.

His laugh is low, breathless. "Close enough."

And then his mouth is on yours, and you remember.

He kisses different when the door is shut. Nothing like the pecks he gives you in public, the shy little brushes that make people coo. This is a claiming. His hand cups the back of your neck, tilts your head, and he takes the kiss deeper like he's been starving for it. His tongue slides against yours, and his teeth graze your bottom lip, and you gasp into his mouth.

"That's it," he murmurs against you. "I've been wanting to do that all day."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because I like watching you wait for it."

He pushes you back onto the mattress, and you go easily — you always do. He hovers over you, forearms braced on either side of your head, and for a moment he just looks at you. Drinks you in. His hair falls forward, brushing his brow, and his pupils are blown so wide his eyes look almost black.

"Tell me what you want," he says.

"You."

"Too vague."

error 404: self control .ᐟ

pairing — tech nerd!gojo x fem reader

wc 4.4k ★ tags — college au, tech nerd satoru gojo, slow burn, sexual tension, accidental discovery (porn/history), voyeurism, teasing, banter, eventual smut, light choking, making reader watch herself on screen, panties stealing/keeping, secret recording, making reader recreate what he saw, praise + degradation mix, overstimulation, dirty talk, size kink, multiple orgasms, creampie, fingering, oral (f receiving), rough sex, power dynamics, reader-insert, present tense, smut, 18+ only, minors dni

hello guys.. hope y'all will like it, it's been a long time 🕺🏻 (smut starts next chapter btw)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟎𝟏 — next ▶

your pc is crashing again and it feels personal this time, like it knows exactly when you are already stressed or tired or too worked up to deal with anything else. every time the screen goes black and that blue error message appears something hot and irritated twists in your chest. it isn’t even an old machine. 

you built it yourself last year with money you saved from extra shifts at the campus café and whatever small editing jobs you could pick up online. you stayed up until four in the morning watching tutorials with your knees pulled up to your chest and a highlighter between your teeth, carefully slotting in parts and connecting cables like you were afraid one wrong move would break everything.