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SAGAU - Beloved of Teyvat

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Unlike its foolish people, Teyvat would never—could never—fail to recognize its owner.

Its essence flowed through their very veins, and theirs through it, in an eternal cycle that could never be broken—not if the land, skies and seas had anything to say about it. It knew them. It carved itself for their joy. Nothing, nothing, could separate them. Never again.

The mortals could boast and brag as they please; Teyvat was the Divine One’s most devoted worshiper.

Getting hit by Truck-kun and being isekai’d into Teyvat had not been on your list of things to do today. Getting chased out of Mondstat by stone and sword, running and running through even the collapse of your lungs until you couldn’t hear the screams to find you and make you pay, definitely hadn’t been planned either.

And now you sat lost in the mountains, surrounded by trees. Had you run north or south? You couldn’t remember, memories lost in the haze of getawaygetawaygetaway that had driven you there.

You turned to get a better look at your surroundings. Mondstat below and Dragonspine beyond that, you had to be in the Stormbearer Mountains. Could you have picked a worse direction? If they found you again…

Oh god, they’d find you again.

They had to already know you’d boxed yourself in, the knights had already been mobilizing themselves, you’d already lost your chance to escape. The realization of your situation quickly dawned. Whatever crime they’d found you guilty of, nobody was willing to hear you out.

So, here you were, in pain, exhausted, and out of choices. But dammit, you were the one who guided the traveler through even the Spiral Abyss, you were the one who definitely didn’t run away from every enemy when you finally left Mondstat because you were scared, and you were the one who fought against those bullshit scaled domains for the whalers without a shield to guard you.

If there was anything you could do, it was bullshit strats.

And unlike your pursuers, you had game knowledge.

For example, you knew how to avoid the Anemo Hypostasis' attacks. Should push come to shove, you could avoid Beth’s attacks and direct its attention toward the Knights, then escape while they were distracted. If they were even willing to follow you that far to begin with. So you could probably lie low up there until they lost interest and sneak your way down to Liyue under the cover of night. Maybe Yanfei would be willing to—

“They’re here!”

Ah shit.

Next time, you told yourself as you broke into a run, you’d think on the go. Hopefully, you could get past the hypostasis before they could catch up. Or at least before they could land a hit.

You scrambled up ledges, bloodying your pants on sharp rocks, and didn’t dare to look behind at the rapidly encroaching footsteps.

“Freeze, imposter!”

Met with a ledge you couldn’t climb and a knight on either side, you turned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You were so close. “I swear I didn’t do anything!!”

Staring you down was Jean, the Dandelion Knight herself.

“You dare?” She stared you down with a fury you didn’t think her capable of. As if you’d personally slaughtered Barbara in front of her eyes. “Looking at me as you are, you dare claim innocence?!”

“I don’t understand,” you pleaded, desperate. “All I did was walk into the city, I didn’t even say anything!”

“You little!” Lisa spat from Jean’s side, calling on her vision. You flinched, hiding behind your arms as though they’d protect you, every part of you screaming for help.

The pain never came.

Instead, you yelped in fear as wind wrapped around your body, cradling you in its gentle caress.

“Jean?” a woman’s voice questioned, you couldn’t make out who over the wind in your ears.

“Acting Grand Master!” a knight cried not a moment after. “The- the hypostasis!”

You tipped your head back to see. Your eyes met with the vision of Beth looming over you, somehow seeming furious despite lacking any features to speak of. But the pure killer intent behind you couldn’t be mistaken even to someone as civilian as you.

Then, you were moving again, pulled over the hypostasis and toward its arena (why had it left its arena?), given a first-class seat to Beth’s ensuing battle with the knights. And a perfect view of the approaching horde of slimes and Hilichurls. You could even make out a few boars and squirrels among them.

A warning bubbled up in your throat, but soon died on the winds.

The knights fought valiantly, even when the first few monsters approached, even when the boars started charging their backlines, but after the first bird swooped down and knocked Lisa’s catalyst away (the catalyst you gave her, she tried to attack you, kill you, with the catalyst you gave her) Jean finally called a retreat.

The monsters didn’t make it easy, a few Whooperflowers even

And once the Knights were naught but a speck in the distance, the winds returned you to the ground, laying you softly in the center of the arena. The Anemo Hypostasis seemingly turned its attention to you, again reaching out with its wind. You cowered behind your arms once more, but the wind stayed as gentle as ever, soothing your aches and burns.

Blinking, you looked yourself over and found yourself rid of reddened marks and jagged cuts. It had healed you. Why would it do that?

Instead of anything that would give you an answer, Beth returned itself to its stasis above you.

A few minutes passed before you allowed yourself to crawl out from your position. It didn’t stir even as you stood by it.

Staring at it, you brought a hand to the nearest cube, running your fingers over its smooth surface. Something like contentment radiated through your fingers and it glowed… happily? Warmth radiated through you and you couldn’t help but smile in response.

It had really come to protect you, hadn’t it?

Apparently, there was more lore behind Beth, and maybe the other hypostases, than you thought, that they’d assist you in your moment of need. It probably did something to bring the other monsters as well.

You looked over your shoulder to where they had been and immediately stumbled back onto Beth as a Hilichurl’s cry rang out.

How… long had they been standing there?

Two Hilichurls stood before you. A short, stocky one with a bag of fruits and a taller, lankier one with a bowl of what looked like a stew of some sort. Both immediately thrust out their items in offering, looked at each other, then dropped to their knees and placed the food on the ground before you and backed up a few paces.

They were giving you food. Hilichurls were giving you food.

In your state of shock, you looked over your shoulder, idly recalling that Hilichurls disliked areas of high elemental energy. Why would they push past that to give you food?

Too exhausted to think, let alone run or fight, you dropped to sit on the ground and picked up the bowl. Hilichurlian food or not, these guys had saved your life.

So you dug the spoon in and took a bite of the (surprisingly tasty) stew.

[Quest Completed: Return]

[Quest Reward: User Interface Unlocked]

[Would you like to accept? Yes/No]

...what.

-----

@nicebonescomrade I ended up rewriting this because I liked the Hypostasis idea!

This is my first Genshin work (and my first work of writing in over a year rip) so I hope it's alright :) This concept has been on my mind for a while so here we goooo

ahh i'm so nervous posting this ; - ; pls be nice (but I always accept constructive criticism)

HEADCANON + VARIOUS || s/o turning into a child

request:  Hi hi! How’s it goin? Just saw requests were open and wondering if we could get more of where s/o turns in to a child and is scared of her partner but later when they turn back normal the partner is all clingy. With Satouru, megumi and nanami?

note: first off, hello love! i’m doing well even with these circumstances, and i hope you’re doing well too! and secondly, i would not mind doing more of hcs for this prompt! it was really cute and fluffy, and i had a lot of fun with it honestly!

anime: jujutsu kaisen

characters: gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, nanami kento

pronouns: them/they

Keep reading

campus crush!sunghoon x f!reader

stats class. keep ur glasses on when u fuck me. statistical analysis with ur tongue. thats abt it. sunghoon word porn ngl ENHA HARD HOURS (kinda) 18+ MDNI

-

You're late. Again.

The digital clock on your phone reads 3:10 PM as you sprint across campus, your backpack bouncing against your spine with each step. Statistics seminar started ten minutes ago, and Professor Clarke has definitely noticed your absence by now. Not that it's unusual—you've made it a habit to burst through those doors at exactly ten minutes past, a whirlwind of apologies and bright smiles.

"Sorry, sorry!" you announce as you push open the computer lab door, slightly out of breath.

Twenty pairs of eyes swivel toward you, but Professor Clarke doesn't even look up from his laptop at the front of the room.

"How kind of you to join us," he says dryly. "We were just assigning semester project partners."

You flash him your most charming smile as you slide into an empty seat. "Perfect timing then."

A few people laugh. You've mastered the art of diffusing tension with humor, of making your tardiness seem like a quirky character trait rather than a genuine inability to manage time. It's gotten you this far in university.

"As I was saying," Professor Clarke continues, "this statistical analysis project will count for forty percent of your grade. You and your assigned partner will select a dataset, develop a hypothesis, and use STATA to analyze your findings." He gestures to the complex statistical software displayed on the projector screen—the same software that has been giving you nightmares since week one.

You glance around the room, hoping you'll be paired with Olivia or Zara—friends who wouldn't mind carrying the team if necessary. But when Professor Clarke reads off, "Sunghoon Park and..." followed by your name, your heart does something unexpected.

It skips.

You've noticed him before—it's hard not to. He always sits in the same spot three rows from the front, always arrives fifteen minutes early, always has his notebook open at the exact moment class begins.

What you haven't fully appreciated until now, as you turn to locate him in the room, is just how devastatingly handsome he is. His dark eyes find yours immediately behind stylish wire-rimmed glasses that give him an irresistible intellectual appeal. One corner of his perfectly shaped mouth lifts in the smallest acknowledgment, and a strand of black hair falls across his forehead when he nods at you. The combination of his reserved demeanor and model-worthy looks creates an effect that makes your stomach flip. He's the definition of a hot nerd—the kind that makes you temporarily forget about statistical analysis altogether and wonder what he'd look like with those glasses slightly askew, his usually perfect hair disheveled.

After partnering announcements finish, Professor Clarke instructs everyone to move next to their assigned partners to discuss project ideas.

You gather your things and make your way to Sunghoon's station, dropping into the chair beside him with dramatic flair.

"Fair warning," you say brightly, "I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing with this software. Like, none. Zero. Statistical analysis to me is deciding which café has the shortest queue."

You expect a sigh or a look of disappointment—it's what most serious students do when they realize they've been paired with you. Instead, Sunghoon's expression softens.

"It's okay," he says quietly, his voice carrying just a hint of an accent. "I'm... not an expert either."

"But you always look so focused during class," you say, gesturing to his immaculate notes.

He shrugs, the movement slight and controlled. "I write everything down. Doesn't mean I understand it all."

When he opens the STATA program and navigates through a few screens with apparent ease, you lean closer.

"Okay, so you're being modest. You definitely know more than I do."

"Barely," he admits, and you catch the faintest hint of a smile—not the polite one from before, but something genuine that makes you want to see it again. "I just know how to make it look like I know what I'm doing."

"That's an important life skill," you laugh, pulling your chair closer to see his screen better. "So what kind of data are we analyzing? Please say something fun like ice cream consumption versus happiness levels."

Sunghoon doesn't laugh, but his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. "Actually," he says, "we can choose almost anything that interests us."

You bump his shoulder lightly with yours. "See? We're going to be great partners. I bring the wild ideas, you bring the common sense."

"Is that what they call it?" he asks, and there's a hint of playfulness in his voice that catches you off guard.

"What would you call it?" you challenge.

He considers for a moment, adjusting his glasses with a single finger pushed against the bridge. The gesture shouldn't be as attractive as it is. "Survival instinct."

You laugh, genuinely surprised. "So I'm dangerous?"

"No," he says, turning slightly to face you better. "Statistical software is dangerous. You're..." he pauses, seeming to search for the right word, "unpredictable."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as one." The quiet confidence in his voice sends a small thrill through you.

Professor Clarke clears his throat at the front of the room. "I expect project proposals by the end of next week. Choose your dataset carefully—it will determine the scope of your entire project."

You glance at the clock. Only fifteen minutes of class remain.

"So, partner," you say, lowering your voice as Professor Clarke continues, "when should we meet to figure this out? I promise I'll try not to be ten minutes late."

Sunghoon's mouth quirks up at one corner. "Would you actually show up if I said 8 AM at the library?"

"Now you're just testing me," you whisper back.

"Coffee shop after class on Thursday?" he suggests instead, his voice equally quiet. "The one behind the science building?"

"Beans & Books? You've got good taste." You nod approvingly. "I practically live there between classes."

"I know," he says, then immediately looks as if he wishes he could take it back.

"You know?" You raise an eyebrow, intrigued and slightly pleased.

A faint color appears high on his cheekbones. "I've seen you there. You always order something different and then type furiously on your laptop."

The fact that he's noticed you before, observed your habits even, gives you a little flutter of satisfaction. "And what do you order, Sunghoon Park? Let me guess—plain black coffee, no sugar."

His eyebrows lift slightly. "Close. Earl Grey tea."

"Of course," you nod sagely. "Sophisticated."

When class ends, you gather your things slowly, suddenly reluctant to leave. Sunghoon stands, slinging his messenger bag across his chest in one smooth motion.

"Thursday, then," he says, as if confirming an important business meeting.

"It's a date," you reply with deliberate casualness, watching his reaction.

His expression remains mostly neutral, but you don't miss the quick blink, the slight pause before he nods. "For statistics," he clarifies, but the slight upturn of his lips betrays him.

"For statistics," you agree solemnly, though you're already wondering what other subjects you might explore together.

The coffee shop meeting goes surprisingly well. What you expected to be an hour of awkward dataset discussions turns into three hours of conversation that meanders far beyond statistics. Sunghoon, it turns out, has layers beneath his reserved exterior—he plays piano, reads philosophy for fun, and has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard and makes you laugh harder than you have in weeks.

By the end of the evening, you've not only selected your dataset (coffee consumption versus academic performance—your suggestion, which he surprisingly agreed to), but you've also learned that his stammer appears when he's either nervous or passionate about a topic. You find both instances equally endearing.

When Friday's class rolls around, something shifts. You arrive only five minutes late (progress), and the space beside Sunghoon, which is usually empty, now seems to be waiting for you. You slide into the seat and he glances up from his notebook, the corner of his mouth lifting in that subtle way that's becoming familiar.

"You're almost on time," he says quietly, amusement in his eyes.

"Don't get used to it," you reply, but there's no bite to your words.

Throughout the class, your awareness of him is heightened—the way his brow furrows when he's concentrating, how his fingers tap thoughtfully against the desk when Professor Clarke asks a difficult question, the scent of his cologne when he leans closer to point something out on your screen.

After class, you find yourself hesitating as you pack up your things, watching as he meticulously organizes his notes.

"So," you begin, aiming for casual, "I was thinking... we should probably meet again this weekend to work on the project." You pause. "My roommate's gone for the weekend. We could use my dorm? Fewer distractions than the coffee shop."

Sunghoon looks up, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nods. "That would be... efficient."

You laugh at his choice of words. "Very statistical of you."

"I meant—" he starts, a hint of that stammer appearing.

"I know what you meant," you interrupt, grinning. "Saturday at four?"

He nods, adjusting his glasses. "I'll bring the data analysis. You bring the coffee."

"Deal."

Saturday arrives, and for the first time in your university career, you spend thirty minutes tidying your room before a study session. You tell yourself it's just basic courtesy, not because you care what Sunghoon thinks of your living space.

At precisely four o'clock, there's a knock at your door. Punctual as always.

You open it to find Sunghoon standing there in jeans and a simple button-down shirt, his laptop bag slung across his body. He's swapped his usual wire-frames for slightly thicker black glasses that somehow make him look even more attractive—scholarly but with an edge.

"You're making me look bad with this punctuality thing," you say by way of greeting, stepping aside to let him in.

"Sorry?" he offers, clearly unsure if he's actually done something wrong.

You laugh. "I'm joking. Come in."

Your dorm room is standard—bed, desk, small seating area with a loveseat and coffee table—but you've made it yours with art on the walls and plants on every available surface. Sunghoon takes it all in with curious eyes.

"I like your space," he says, and it sounds genuine.

"Thanks. Where should we set up? Desk or coffee table?"

"Either is fine," he says, that formal politeness still present even after your hours in the coffee shop.

You end up at the coffee table, sitting side by side on the loveseat, laptops open. For an hour, you actually make progress on the project. Sunghoon explains correlations in a way that finally makes sense, and you discover you have a talent for visualizing data in creative ways that makes his eyes light up with approval.

But as the afternoon wears on, the small space means your shoulders keep brushing, your knees occasionally touch, and each point of contact feels increasingly deliberate. When you reach for your coffee at the same moment he reaches for his tea, your hands collide, and neither of you pulls away immediately.

"Sorry," you both say at once, and then laugh.

"Great minds," you add, but you're distracted by how his eyes look behind those glasses, warm and focused entirely on you.

At some point, you shift positions, both of you turning toward each other to discuss a particularly complicated aspect of your analysis. Your knees are definitely touching now, and the loveseat suddenly seems much smaller than it did an hour ago.

"So if we compare these variables..." he's saying, but you're watching his mouth form the words more than listening to their meaning.

"Hmm?" you say, forcing your attention back to the screen.

He turns to look at you fully, and you realize how close your faces are. "You're not listening," he says, but there's no accusation in his voice.

"I'm distracted," you admit.

"By statistics?"

"By you."

The words hang in the air between you. Sunghoon blinks, his expression shifting from confusion to something more intense. He swallows visibly, and you watch the movement in his throat.

"I'm... distracting?" he asks, his voice lower than before.

"Extremely." Your eyes lock on his glasses, the way they frame his dark eyes, how they complete his devastatingly attractive intellectual look. "Especially with these on."

His eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. "The glasses?"

"God, yes," you breathe, moving closer. "You have no idea how fucking hot you look in them."

A flush spreads across his cheeks, but there's a new confidence in the way he holds your gaze. Without warning, he pulls you forward into a kiss that has nothing of his usual restraint. His laptop slides forgotten to the coffee table as you shift closer, and then somehow you're straddling his lap, your hands on either side of his face as you deepen the kiss.

When you break apart to breathe, his glasses are slightly askew. You straighten them gently, then run your fingers through his usually immaculate hair, deliberately messing it up while keeping the glasses perfectly in place.

"You're so sexy," you murmur against his mouth. "I've been thinking about this since the first day we were paired up."

His hands find your hips, holding you firmly against him. "I find that... statistically improbable," he manages, but his breathing is as uneven as yours.

"I'll show you improbable," you whisper, grinding down deliberately. His glasses fog slightly from the heat between you, and the sight sends a thrill through your body. "So fucking hot," you repeat, unable to stop yourself.

His hands slide beneath your shirt, exploring with a surprising boldness that makes you gasp. "We should—" he starts, breathing heavily.

“Yes,” you agree, already pulling him up from the loveseat, walking backwards toward your bed while keeping his mouth on yours. “The project can definitely wait.”

You fall back onto the mattress, pulling him down with you, careful not to knock his glasses off as he hovers above you. They’ve fogged again from the heat between your bodies, and something about that sight—this controlled, precise man coming undone while still looking every bit the hot intellectual—pushes you past any remaining hesitation.

“Leave them on,” you insist when he reaches to remove his glasses. “Please.”

His lips curve into a smile that’s nothing like his usual restrained expressions—this one is knowing, almost wicked. “If that’s what you want,” he murmurs, lowering his mouth to your neck.

“It’s definitely what I want,” you gasp as his teeth graze your skin. “Along with… everything else.”

There’s a playful air to each touch, a slow building of tension as you both start to peel away layers. You tug at the hem of his shirt first, sliding it up inch by tantalizing inch until he lifts his arms to help you pull it off. He returns the favor by slipping a hand under your blouse, fingertips teasing over your ribs. Every time he tries to hasten the pace, you grin and slow him down, dragging the fabric just a bit more before letting it fall away, leaving him momentarily breathless. The sound he makes—caught somewhere between a groan and a laugh—sends a thrill through you.

Time seems to blur as clothing is discarded piece by piece, inhibitions falling away with each new revelation of skin. The afternoon sunlight filters through your curtains, casting everything in a warm glow.

At some point, you find yourself above him, both of you completely bare except for his glasses, which have somehow remained perfectly in place despite everything. You pause for a moment, taking in the sight of him beneath you—all lean muscle and flushed skin, those wire-rimmed glasses still perched on his nose, slightly fogged from the heat between your bodies.

“You’re staring,” he whispers, a vulnerability in his voice despite the intimate position.

“Can you blame me?” You lean down, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, then another, and another, each one growing more insistent. “God, look at you.”

His hands find your hips, steadying you as you continue to kiss him, his glasses occasionally bumping against your face in a way that only heightens your desire. There's something impossibly erotic about him being completely naked except for those glasses—the contrast between his exposed body and that one remnant of his studious, put-together appearance.

"You're so fucking sexy," you breathe against his mouth. "How does anyone focus in that statistics class with you sitting there looking like this?"

He laughs softly, the sound vibrating against your lips. "I could ask you the same question."

Your kisses become more urgent, your bodies moving together with increasing need. The heat between you builds with each touch, each whispered encouragement. Sunghoon's usually careful movements grow bolder, more instinctive, as your hands explore each other's bodies. His glasses, still perfectly perched on his nose, begin to fog at the edges first—just a light mist that catches the dim light of your room. But as your passion intensifies, as your breathing grows more ragged and synchronized, the lenses cloud completely.

When you pull back to look at him, you can't help but laugh softly at the sight—this brilliantly composed man now completely blinded by the evidence of your shared desire, those glasses that make him look so irresistibly intellectual now rendered useless by the heat radiating between your bodies. To your surprise, he laughs too—not the polite chuckle you've heard in class or the soft amusement from your coffee shop conversations, but a genuine, uninhibited sound that seems to come from somewhere deep inside him. It's rich and warm and completely unguarded.

"I can't see a thing," he admits, his voice husky with desire and amusement. His hands find your face despite his temporary blindness, thumbs tracing your cheekbones with unexpected precision. "But I don't need to see to know exactly where you are."

"Is that so?" you challenge, your breath catching as his fingers trail down your neck, across your collarbone, mapping you with deliberate attention.

"I've been studying you," he murmurs, his touch making you shiver despite the heat between you. "Memorizing. Analyzing patterns." His hands continue their exploration, finding every sensitive spot with remarkable accuracy. "It's very... statistical."

You laugh against his mouth. "Only you could make statistics sound sexy."

Through the fogged lenses, you can just barely make out how his eyes darken at your words. "I have other statistical terms I could demonstrate," he offers, surprising you again with his boldness. His accent becomes slightly more pronounced when he's like this—another detail you've grown to cherish.

"Show me," you whisper, and he does—his hands and mouth conducting a thorough analysis of cause and effect, of stimuli and response, until you're clutching at his shoulders and gasping his name. All while those fogged-up glasses remain perfectly in place, the final vestige of his composed exterior while everything else between you unravels into glorious chaos.

You’re already bare beneath him, skin flushed from teasing and anticipation, but the only thing still clinging to his body—those damn glasses—make it so much worse. Or better. Definitely better.

Sunghoon hovers over you, gaze dark behind the lenses, lips swollen and slightly parted as he takes in the sight of you. You should be embarrassed at how wanton you must look, legs spread for him, body already trembling, but he’s the one who looks wrecked. His composure is gone, shattered somewhere between the desperate kisses and the way you dragged your nails down his back.

His lips quirk. “Still want me to leave them on?”

“Don’t even think about taking them off.”

His smile turns wicked, and then he’s moving—kissing, sucking, trailing his mouth down your body with purpose. His fingers dig into your thighs, spreading you wider, and then he’s right there—close enough that you can feel the ghost of his breath against you, the heat of it making your stomach clench.

He doesn’t start slow. No teasing, no light flicks of his tongue just to test the waters. Sunghoon eats you like he’s been starving for this, like he’s been waiting for the moment he could taste you, drown in you. His tongue is hot and relentless, curling against you just right, pressing where you need him most, sending shockwaves through every nerve in your body.

But what really undoes you is the feeling of his glasses pressing against your inner thighs, the cold metal contrasting with the heat of his mouth. Every time he moves, every time he adjusts his angle, the frames shift against your skin—slightly rough, slightly smooth, a reminder of exactly who is between your legs and how absolutely ruined he’s making you.

You fist the sheets, hips jerking up into his mouth, but he pins you down effortlessly, a strong arm wrapped around your thigh to keep you exactly where he wants you. He groans when you tug at his hair, the vibrations shooting through you, making you gasp his name.

“Fuck, Sunghoon—”

His response is a low hum against your clit, and your whole body shakes. You feel the damp heat of his breath, the slick slide of his tongue, but more than anything, you feel the weight of those goddamn glasses as they drag along your skin, fogging up even more, smudging against your inner thigh every time he moves deeper, harder, sloppier.

The sheer filth of it makes you clench around nothing.

Sunghoon notices, because of course he does—because he’s been studying you this whole time, memorizing what makes you gasp, what makes your thighs tremble around his head. And he’s smug about it, too, because when he pulls back just enough to glance up at you, lips glistening, glasses just barely slipping down his nose, he smirks.

“You like that, don’t you?” His voice is raspy, breathless, wrecked.

You don’t even try to deny it. “Yes—God, yes, don’t stop.”

Sunghoon’s smirk deepens, and he doesn’t make you beg for it. He dives right back in, tongue flicking, sucking, his grip on your thighs tightening as you lose yourself completely. The drag of his glasses, the precise way he adjusts his angle to push you higher, the way he groans into you like he’s getting off on this just as much as you are—it’s too much.

The coil in your stomach snaps hard, pleasure crashing over you so intensely that you barely realize you’re pulling at his hair, moaning his name like a prayer, like you might fall apart completely if he stops.

Sunghoon doesn’t stop. Not right away. He works you through the aftershocks, his tongue slow, methodical, lazy in a way that makes you shudder from overstimulation. Only when your body twitches beneath him does he finally pull away, chin glistening, glasses fucking ruined.

You’re still gasping when he crawls back up your body, hovering over you, his mouth right there, his glasses so close you can see the way they’re fogged-up and smudged with sweat.

When you finally collapse beside each other, spent and satisfied, his glasses are askew once more. You reach over to straighten them, and he catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm.

"So," you say, when you've caught your breath, "should we tell Professor Clarke we've found an interesting correlation to study?"

Sunghoon laughs, the sound free and unrestrained in a way you hadn't heard before today. "I don't think this is what he had in mind for the assignment."

"His loss," you murmur, snuggling closer. "I'd say our statistical analysis was very... thorough."

"We should probably actually work on the project at some point," he says, but makes no move to get up.

"Tomorrow," you promise, running a finger along his jawline. "I think we need to collect more data first."

His eyebrow raises above the rim of his glasses. "For the sake of academic integrity?"

"Absolutely," you agree solemnly, before dissolving into laughter.

The statistics of probability have never been so compelling.

-

Over the next few weeks, your statistics class takes on an entirely new dimension. What was once your least favorite part of the week has become the highlight—not because you've suddenly developed a passion for data analysis, but because of the subtle dance that unfolds between you and Sunghoon twice a week in that computer lab.

The Monday after your "study session," you arrive to class five minutes early—a personal record. Sunghoon is already there, of course, and the moment he sees you, his ears turn slightly pink. When you slide into the seat next to him, now officially your spot, he gives you a small smile that feels like a secret.

"You're early," he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

"I had motivation," you reply, letting your knee brush against his under the desk.

His eyes flicker to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to his notebook. "I hope it wasn't just for... statistical analysis."

"Depends on how you define statistics," you whisper just as Professor Clarke calls the class to order.

Throughout the lecture, you're acutely aware of every movement Sunghoon makes—how he adjusts his glasses when he's thinking, the precise way he takes notes, the occasional glance he throws your way when he thinks you're not looking. Halfway through class, you deliberately drop your pen between you. When you both reach for it, your fingers touch, and he doesn't pull away. Instead, he hooks his pinky finger over yours for just a moment before handing you the pen. The small gesture sends a flutter through your chest.

After class, you walk together to the coffee shop without needing to discuss it. Somehow, it's already become your routine.

"How's the dataset compilation going?" he asks as you find a small table in the corner.

"That's what you want to talk about right now? Really?" You raise an eyebrow.

A faint smile plays at his lips. "We do have a project due in three weeks."

"Always so responsible," you sigh dramatically, but there's fondness in your voice. "It's going fine. I've got the coffee consumption survey data from about fifty students so far."

He nods approvingly. "That's a decent sample size for our purposes."

When your drinks arrive—his Earl Grey and your excessively complicated latte—you notice something different about him. He's still quiet, still thoughtful, but there's a new ease to his movements, a softness around his eyes when he looks at you.

"What?" he asks, catching you studying him.

"Nothing," you say, then reconsider. "Actually, not nothing. You seem... different."

He takes a sip of his tea, considering. "I feel different," he admits after a moment. "With you."

The simple sincerity of his words catches you off guard. For all your flirtatious confidence, his straightforward honesty disarms you completely.

"Good different?" you ask, suddenly feeling shy.

"Very good different," he confirms, and beneath the table, his foot rests against yours. Not by accident.

By the third week, you've fallen into patterns that blend the academic with the intimate. Your Tuesday and Thursday afternoons are devoted to actual project work—usually in the library where the public setting keeps you reasonably focused. 

Your Saturday “study sessions” in your dorm room are significantly less productive in the statistical sense, though you joke that you’re certainly collecting plenty of data on other variables.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes every time you say it, but you know he loves it—loves how eager, how shameless you are when it comes to him. Because every time you spread your legs for him, every time you drag him into another compromising position, he never tells you no.

Case Study #1: The Textbooks

It starts with an innocent enough setup—Sunghoon sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against your bed, flipping through a statistics textbook while you sit across from him, pretending to study. But it’s boring. He looks too good in his glasses, sleeves rolled up, the slightest furrow in his brow as he concentrates. And before you even realize you’re moving, you’re crawling into his lap, straddling him right there on top of the book.

He barely has time to exhale your name before you sink down onto him, making both of you groan.

The hardcover digs into your knees, the pages creasing beneath you, but you couldn’t care less. Sunghoon is buried inside you, stretching you open, warm and deep and perfect, and the only data you’re analyzing is how his breath stutters when you roll your hips just right.

“Fuck, you’re unreal—” he pants, hands gripping your waist, watching you through the slightly fogged lenses of his glasses as you use him, ride him slow, grind on him like you want to ruin him.

You do. You want to wreck him just as much as he’s wrecking you. The friction, the delicious drag, the way his hands squeeze your hips to urge you to go faster, harder—it all shreds your self-control.

By the time you both come undone, gasping and clinging to each other, the textbook beneath you is thoroughly creased, sticky, ruined. Neither of you even bother looking at it.

Case Study #2: The Desk Chair

Another Saturday, another useless attempt at studying.

Sunghoon’s seated at your desk this time, one leg lazily spread, hand bracing his forehead as he tries to focus. But you’re kneeling between his legs, and the moment you reach for his zipper, his entire body tenses.

“You’re insatiable.”

“And?” You tug his pants down just enough to free him, palming his length, watching him harden in your hand as his breathing turns shallow.

He leans back, exhaling sharply when your lips part and you take him deep. His hand finds the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as you swirl your tongue around him, tease him, make him fall apart.

His glasses slip down his nose as he watches you, half-lidded and dazed, jaw slack as you take him deeper, sucking, hollowing your cheeks, making obscene little noises that drive him insane.

He trembles when he finally spills down your throat, groaning your name, head thrown back against the chair.

And the moment he catches his breath, he drags you into his lap, flips you onto the desk, and fucks you stupid.

Case Study #3: Against the Window

Another week. Another “study session.” Another location.

This time, you find yourself pressed against the glass of your dorm window, palms splayed, breath fogging the pane as Sunghoon pounds into you from behind.

The curtains are open.

You don’t know if anyone can see—if someone walking by on the street below can look up and spot your bare body, the lewd way you’re bent over, Sunghoon’s hands gripping your hips as he drives into you with punishing force.

But you don’t care.

All you care about is the way he grunts into your ear, his glasses slightly askew, one hand slipping down to rub your clit, making you jerk and gasp his name as pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave.

“Keep your eyes open,” he growls, voice thick with lust, dragging his lips along your shoulder. “Look outside. Look at what a mess you are.”

Case Study #4: The Shower

It’s late, and you should be asleep. But instead, you’re pressed up against the tiled wall of your tiny dorm shower, water scalding hot, steam curling around you as Sunghoon lifts you up, holds you against him, and fucks you slow, deep.

His glasses are gone, finally.

They’d fogged up the moment he stepped into the shower, and the second you’d made a joke about it, he’d taken them off and set them on the sink. But you don’t miss them too much—not when his mouth is on your throat, sucking bruises into your wet skin, not when his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you in place as he rolls his hips into you with exquisite precision.

You come twice before you finally stumble out of the shower, exhausted, dripping, completely spent.

And the moment you walk back into your dorm room, still naked, Sunghoon picks up his glasses, slides them back on, and gives you a look that tells you he’s nowhere near finished with you.

Case Study #5: The Floor (Again, Because You Can’t Stop)

At this point, you don’t even make it to the bed.

You’re both desperate, panting, **clawing at each other like you can’t stand the idea of being apart for another second.**The moment Sunghoon pushes you onto the floor, you’re already wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him down, gasping when he fills you in one smooth thrust.

It’s fast, dirty, messy.

He grits out your name, one hand bracing beside your head, the other gripping your thigh, holding you open as he slams into you, pace brutal, relentless. The carpet burns on your back will be worth it.

He loses his glasses at some point, but you don’t even notice—you’re too busy coming apart beneath him, clawing at his back, moaning his name like you’ll never get enough of him.

Maybe you won’t.

Because the second you catch your breath, still tangled up in him, you’re already thinking about where you’ll fuck next.

What surprises you most is how much you enjoy both versions of your time together. The project, which should be tedious, becomes engaging through Sunghoon's perspective. He has a way of finding patterns in chaos that makes even the driest data seem fascinating. And through your influence, he's learning to approach problems more creatively, to see beyond the rigid frameworks he's always relied on.

"What if we visualize it this way instead?" you suggest one Tuesday, sketching a completely unorthodox chart on the margin of his meticulously organized notes.

His initial reaction is skepticism—you can see it in the slight furrow of his brow—but he considers it longer than he would have three weeks ago.

"It's unconventional," he says finally.

"But?"

"But it might actually work better for presenting the correlation," he concedes, and the smile you give him is so bright it makes the student at the next table look over.

In class, Professor Clarke notices the change in both of you. Your questions become more insightful, Sunghoon's responses more animated. When you present your initial findings mid-semester, the professor actually seems impressed by your unusual approach to visualization.

"An interesting methodology," he comments, adjusting his own glasses in a way that reminds you of Sunghoon. "Unorthodox, but effective."

You beam at Sunghoon, who ducks his head slightly but can't hide his pleased expression.

After class, he catches your hand as you're packing up—a gesture he would never have initiated before.

"We make a good team," he says quietly.

"The best," you agree, squeezing his fingers before reluctantly letting go. Public displays still make him slightly uncomfortable, and you respect his boundaries.

-

It's during a rainy Friday evening in your dorm room, six weeks into your relationship (though neither of you has officially labeled it as such), that something shifts again.

You're sprawled on your bed with your laptop, Sunghoon sitting at your desk reviewing your latest statistical findings, his glasses reflecting the blue light of the screen. Classical music plays softly from his phone—another new development. He's been gradually introducing you to his favorite composers, and you've found you actually enjoy the background music while working.

"Your scatterplot is missing a data point," he says, turning to look at you.

"Mmm, probably deleted it accidentally," you reply, not looking up from your position. "Is it important?"

"All data points are important," he says, but there's amusement in his voice rather than criticism.

You roll onto your back, laptop balanced on your stomach. "That sounds like something that would be on a statistics department t-shirt. 'All data points matter.'"

He laughs—a sound that's become less rare but no less thrilling to hear. "I'd wear it."

"Of course you would," you tease. "With your glasses and a pocket protector."

He makes a face at you. "I don't own a pocket protector."

"Yet," you add with a grin.

He shakes his head, turning back to the screen, but you catch the smile he tries to hide. After a moment, he speaks again without looking at you.

"My parents want to meet you."

You sit up so quickly your laptop nearly slides off your stomach. "What?"

Now he turns, his expression a mixture of nervousness and something softer. "I mentioned you during our weekly call. Multiple times, apparently. My mother... noticed."

"You talk about me to your parents?" You can't keep the pleased surprise from your voice.

He adjusts his glasses, a gesture you now recognize as his tell when he's feeling vulnerable. "It seems I do."

"What do you tell them?" You set your laptop aside, giving him your full attention.

"That you're brilliant in ways I'm not. That you see solutions I miss." He pauses. "That you make statistics class the best part of my week."

Your heart does that skipping thing it did the first day Professor Clarke paired you together, only stronger now.

"Sunghoon Park," you say softly, "are you saying I'm statistically significant to you?"

His expression turns serious, though his eyes remain gentle. "With a p-value approaching zero," he replies, and though it's phrased as a joke, his tone makes it clear it's anything but.

In statistics, a p-value approaching zero indicates an extremely high likelihood that an observed effect is real and not due to chance. It's the closest thing to certainty that statistics allows.

You cross the room to where he sits, gently taking his face between your hands. His glasses are slightly smudged, and you resist the urge to clean them, focusing instead on the eyes behind them.

"So," you say, "when do I meet these parents who raised such a statistically significant nerd?"

He laughs, pulling you into his lap in a move that would have seemed impossibly bold from him just weeks ago. "They're visiting next weekend. Dinner on Saturday?"

"I'm there," you promise, sealing it with a kiss.

-

The day of your semester project presentation arrives with an unexpected lack of anxiety. You're prepared—more prepared than you've been for any academic presentation in your life. Partly because the subject has actually become interesting to you, but mostly because working on it meant spending hours with Sunghoon.

You stand beside him at the front of the class, watching him explain your methodology with a confidence that wasn't there at the beginning of the semester. His voice is still quiet, still measured, but there's a strength behind it now, an assurance that comes from truly understanding his material. When he gestures to your creative visualization on the screen, there's a hint of pride in his voice that makes your chest warm.

When it's your turn to present, you catch him watching you with undisguised admiration. You explain the correlations you found between different types of coffee consumption and various academic performance metrics, throwing in jokes that make the class laugh and complex statistical terms that make Professor Clarke nod approvingly.

"And in conclusion," you finish, "we found that while caffeine consumption generally correlates with improved academic performance up to a point, the type of environment in which the coffee is consumed may be an equally significant factor."

"Furthermore," Sunghoon adds, stepping forward to stand beside you, shoulder to shoulder, "we discovered that the companionship variable—whether students studied alone or with others—showed the strongest positive correlation with both satisfaction and performance outcomes."

His eyes meet yours for a brief moment, and you know he's not just talking about the data anymore.

When Professor Clarke gives your presentation an A and commends your "complementary analytical approaches," you resist the urge to high-five Sunghoon in front of everyone. Instead, you wait until you're outside the building, then throw your arms around him in celebration.

To your surprise, he lifts you slightly off the ground in his enthusiasm, spinning once before setting you down, his face flushed with excitement and mild embarrassment at his own uncharacteristic display.

"We did it," he says, adjusting his glasses which were knocked askew by your hug.

"Was there ever any doubt?" you reply, reaching up to straighten them properly. "We're statistically significant, remember?"

His smile softens, and right there on the path outside the statistics building, with students streaming past on their way to other classes, he kisses you without hesitation or self-consciousness.

"What was that for?" you ask when he pulls away, delighted but surprised by the public display.

"I've been collecting data," he says, his eyes crinkling behind those glasses you've grown to love, "and I've formed a hypothesis."

"Oh?" You raise an eyebrow. "And what hypothesis is that, Mr. Park?"

He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as you begin walking toward the coffee shop that's become your place.

"That I'm in love with you," he says simply. "And unlike most statistical conclusions, I'm one hundred percent certain."

You stop walking, turning to face him fully. "That's a bold statistical claim. Absolute certainty is rare in your field."

"I have compelling evidence," he counters, and the confidence in his voice, so different from the hesitant student you met months ago, makes your heart race.

"I might need to review your data," you tease, though your voice catches slightly.

"Extensive observation over time," he begins, stepping closer. "Consistent results across multiple variables. Reproducible effects." His voice drops lower. "Significant positive impact on all quality-of-life metrics."

"Very scientific," you murmur, your hands finding their way to his chest.

"I thought so," he agrees, his eyes serious despite the playful exchange. "So my conclusion stands."

You rise on your tiptoes, pressing your forehead to his. "Well, as someone who's conducted a parallel study, I can confirm your findings. The evidence suggests I'm in love with you too."

His smile, rare and full, lights up his entire face. "Independently verified results. The best kind."

“Should we celebrate this breakthrough with coffee?” you suggest, already knowing his answer.

“I was thinking maybe we skip the coffee today,” he says, surprising you again. “I have other hypotheses I’d like to test.”

“Professor Clarke would be shocked at your dedication to statistical research,” you laugh, letting him lead you in the direction of your dorm instead of the coffee shop.

“Some variables,” he says with newfound confidence, “are worth studying in depth.”

You lean in close, pressing your lips right against the shell of his ear, and whisper the kind of filth that would make even the most shameless person blush.

“Then why don’t you pin me down the second we walk through that door, shove your face between my legs, and eat me so fucking good I forget my own name? And when I can’t take anymore, you’ll flip me over and fuck me like you’re trying to imprint yourself inside me—deep, rough, until I’m crying and drooling on the sheets, too dumb to do anything but take it.”

Sunghoon stops breathing.

You feel the exact moment your words hit him—his entire body locks up, his grip on your wrist tightens, his jaw clenches so hard you swear you hear his teeth grind.

His glasses fog immediately.

A strangled noise escapes him, something between a curse and a choked groan, and then he’s moving.

Not just moving—dragging you, fast, purposeful, like a man on a mission.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, voice wrecked, dangerous, and it sends a thrill straight through you.

By the time you reach your dorm, he’s already reaching for the door handle, barely keeping himself together, and the second it clicks shut behind you—

You know he’s about to make good on every single word you just whispered.

That, by any metric, was statistically significant indeed.

-

TL: @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @somuchdard @naurwayyyyy @bloomiize @zzhengyu @annybah @ijustwannareadstuff20 @ddolleri @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4 @starniras @wonuziex

Gojo x Reader, where in school reader and gojo are super touchy touchy making geto and ieiri confused and concerned 😛😛 and they keep telling the others that they're just friend but like they go back to the dorms and fuck like bunnies

just so close

pairing: gojo x f!reader

⟶ cw. fem!reader, fwb, smut, humour, fingering, semi-public sex, secret relationship, unprotected sex, ass-play, mentions of anal.

sypnosis: request gojo and you have a strange relationship that your friends can't stand.

⟶ wc. 1.6k

a/n: hiya, reblogs and comments are very appreciated! requests are also open for similar things! this request is a bit shorter than most n you know my love for open ended endings :)))

“You cryin’?”

Gojo Satoru stands tall and proud, cackling at his friend who’s managed to trip on her own two feet whilst shopping. The friend throws a heavy slap his way, without his infinity on all the time he feels the impact against his soft cheeks-he was laughing so hard his eyes were completely shut and couldn’t even avoid it.

You scoff, crossing your arms, “Are you?”

Satoru holds his precious cheeks, reddening and pulsing under his palm. “You are rude.”

From the distance, Shoko and Suguru walk up towards them after the other two had run off looking for mochi ever since they left the train station. They see their classmates fighting over a box of mochi, yelling in each other's faces.

“It’s mine, Satoru─”

“But I finished mine!” Satoru cries, whining like a child.

Shoko sighs as she approaches you, “Satoru come on, just go buy more.”

You nod quickly agreeing with her in hopes he’d let go of your precious box. Satoru scoffs, letting go and huffing, “It tastes better when you eat someone else’s.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

As the day goes by they all decided to see a new movie after they walked by a large poster advertising some new horror movie. After class and all the training, they wanted to let loose, and what other way to do that than do literally nothing!

You ask for a soda and popcorn, getting a large knowing someone is bound to eat your food. “Satoru, what flavour popcorn?”

“Sweet! Anything else is disgusting!” You roll your eyes, of course, he’d want it sweet. If you were alone you’d probably get salted popcorn or buttered, you usually preferred salty things.

You smile at the employee getting what Satoru wanted.

The other three were already in the theatre by the time you were done, the line was so long. Shoko being her snuck in some snacks in her pockets, Suguru well, would never pay for overly expensive cinema food, and Satoru was just waiting for you to bring the food.

You walk into the darkened room, hmm, at least the ads were done but you were missing the first few minutes of the movie. It didn’t really matter since watching this film was just on a whim and you didn’t even know or care what it is about.

Satoru’s eyes light up seeing your hands full, beaming with joy. He’s saved you a seat right next to them, patting it enthusiastically. Shoko puffs her cheeks though, saying, “I thought you were going to sit next to me.”

“Oh, I can─”

Satoru cuts you off, pulling down on your arms and making you sit, “Nope, she’s sitting with me. Get your own friend.”

“She’s not just your friend, Satoru! We’re all friends, oh my god─you’re so annoying!” Shoko shouts, biting into her chocolate bar. Suguru laughs at the argument, only placing a finger on his lips to tell them that they should keep quiet in a cinema.

You knit your eyebrows, “Sorry, Shoko we can go shopping just us two at some point.” You give her two thumbs up and she nods excitedly, sticking her tongue out at Satoru who pouts after being left out.

The cinema seat was really small, Satoru’s arms steal the two armrests but it wasn’t like you were going to use them. But still, his arms weren’t even that big but he was just tall so he kinda just floods over the seat, his shoulder nudging into yours endlessly without an escape.

He senses your discomfort with the little space, throwing his arm over your shoulders instead. Shuffling you accept the change, getting comfortable. Suguru sends you a weird look which you shot back, throwing a handful of your popcorn at him making Satoru chuckle.

Satoru with his dark uniformed arm around you and pulls you closer, even throwing the armrest back making your sides attach. It was a lot comfier.

He grabs some popcorn, well a bit too much, shoving the entire thing in your mouth, “Damn, it’s not going anywhere, you don’t need to choke on it.”

He scoffs, “Just cus’ you can’t fit much in your tiny mouth doesn’t mean I can’t.” He taps your lips with his thumb, teasing you.

You click your tongue, taking a sip of your coca-cola.

No one else seemed to bat an eye at this, why would they? To anyone else, it would seem as if you two were a couple but to Shoko and Suguru they stared at their friend with wild eyes. They look at each other, wondering if the other was seeing what they were seeing.

Suguru couldn’t shake the feeling that Satoru was definitely staring at your lips in a much more than friendly way, because it wasn’t like Suguru was doing that to you. Shoko notices the way your body molds into Satoru’s, affectionately snuggling into his large frame. The last time you were so soft with a guy was with your ex-Kento-kun.

Shoko’s lips twitch and she taps Suguru, whispering in his ear, “We cannot let this happen, they can’t.”

“What are we supposed to do?”

Shoko snaps her fingers, “An intervention.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The white-haired infinity-wielding boy sits behind you whilst you played a video game in your dorm. With you on his lap, resting his head on your shoulder, “Don’t forget to heal.”

“Pft, I know how to play this game.”

You didn’t really sense any difference, Satoru always did this. He puts his arms around your waist basically using you as a body pillow as he scrolls on his phone. You stayed like this for a while, sat on his thick thighs, and focused on passing the mission in your game.

Until Shoko busts into your room pointing her finger accusatorially. “See! Suguru, I was right.”

Satoru blinks, indifferent, “Huh?”

“I told you, they’re way too touchy.”

Suguru tries to put together the pieces, well, the evidence seems very clear but he didn’t want to put you on the spot. “Well, do you see anything weird about this?”

He was asking you, making your eyes twitch, “Erm, what do you mean?”

“You’re on Satoru’s lap, you guys are always together, touching each other ways friends don’t!” Suguru explained, pointing at a bored-looking Satoru, “And he’s got his infinity off!”

“He’s always got it off─” You say, turning to face Satoru and he nods.

Suguru clicks his tongue standing at the door, “No he doesn't, he had it on this morning when I threw a pancake at him.”

You laugh, “Well that’s because you threw a pancake at him, I don’t see what you two are seeing. Like I guess we’re touchy but I’d sit on your lap too, Suguru.”

Satoru chokes a bit, dropping his phone, “Eh?”

“Exactly! If you two end up making this complicated and it messes up our friendship blame yourselves, I’m just warning you because you two seem a little too friendly, I’m over it!” Shoko drags Suguru out the door with some angry stomps leaving a really flushed you sitting on Satoru’s lap.

You cock your head, “Are we really that touchy?”

Satoru shrugs, cascading his palm from your waist down to your skirt hem. “Maybe.” His fingers tap and tease, getting closer and closer to the heat. His large hands reach your clothed heat, where nothing but your underwear covers it.

“We’re lucky they didn’t see─” He mutters, pulling on your shirt collar and kissing down your neck leaving wet marks, “Start moving again, it feels good.”

He tugs on what remains of your panties that had been moved aside under your skirt. Tightly pulled against the fat of your lips, you were definitely lucky no one told you guys to get up, or else they would’ve noticed Satoru’s cock was deep inside of your dripping cunt. His finger pulls and teases your clit, making you twitch on his lap whilst trying to play the game.

He was only reminding you of what to do since you were sort of going dumb trying to ride his cock and focus on the mission at hand. Biting your lips you worried that your friends were only a couple of doors away, completely clueless with how far your relationship with Satoru had already gone beyond just friends.

His legs are spread under you whilst you were kneeling on your legs and knees over his lap, it didn’t seem weird at all if you didn’t focus on it but the angle of which his cock is pressing allowed nearly the entire length to bottom out.

“Oh, shit. Yea, keep rolling your hips like that─” Satoru moans, still watching that video on his phone. “Mhm, your pussy is so wet─huh? Did you like almost getting caught, you kept clenching on me I almost died holding my breath.”

You sit up purposefully letting him almost fall out before sitting back down dragging down on the length hearing a guttural moan leave his lips uncontrollably, “You’re the one that enjoyed that, always trying things in public and when our friends are nearby.”

It wasn’t clear how it got to that point but in the cinema, Satoru had that had he wrapped around your shoulder down the back of your skirt, fingers deep in your pussy the entire time. He’d curl it, enjoying the way you’d shift and freeze up next to him.

He throws his head back, flustered and completely red from pleasure, “I know─I know. But it’s fucking hot, you looking at me like that, eyes practically asking me to bend you over and defile you. Fuck!”

His fingers flip up your skirt, and he pulls away from the cloth of your panties again revealing your quivering tight hole, “Are you into butt-stuff?”

“Never tried it.” You answered him quickly, moving your hips and playing the game much more casually now. He didn’t like it, he liked it when you struggled, whimpered, and cried on his dick.

“You wanna?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

© moongumi 2022. all rights reserved, do not copy and publish my writing anywhere else.

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jealousy jealousy

𓂅 genre: diluc, xiao, childe, and kaeya x gn! reader fluff

𓂅 warnings: mentions of being tipsy + alcohol in kaeya's part

𓂅 summary: they return home late only to see you already cuddled up to your favorite stuffed toy. they're a bit upset to say the least.

𓂅 note: literally just random brainrot while i think about my series and try to bring myself to finish childe angst :"D kinda crack as well but eh i hopr you all enjoy!!

DILUC

after a long and rather tiresome shift at angel's share, diluc wants nothing more than to bask in the warmth of your embrace.

so when he sees a little stuffed toy taking his supposed place in your arms, he isn't exactly pleased.

as a sane, adult man, he knows the irritation he feels towards an inanimate object of all things, is completely irrational.

he knows it's just a hard night taking its toll on his mind and heart. but does he have the energy to care at the moment? no ^^

quietly, he makes his way over to you, trying not to make any commotion as he sits himself on the bed.

he carefully takes the stuffed animal out of your arms as to not wake you. but once it's safely out of your arms he tosses it carelessly on the other side of the bed.

he then slides himself under your arms, pressing gentle kisses on your face when he notices you begin to stir slightly, muttering his name in your half awoken state.

"yes, it's me, darling. i'm home," he announces softly, voice barely over a whisper. "go back to sleep. i'm here now."

a fond smile tugs onto the corners of his lips when you hum sleepily, tightening your arms around his neck to nuzzle yourself into his firey hair.

he tilts his head to place on last kiss on your jaw before his eyes flutter shut and he drifts off to sleep. when you wake up in the morning your poor stuffed toy is abandoned on the floor :(

XIAO

adepti don't usually sleep, so on normal nights, xiao opts to sit beside your bed until you wake up, watching over you protectively after his nightly duties of fighting demons.

however, exhaustion was weighing particularly heavy on him today, and the sight of you all snuggled up to a little toy irked him just a tad bit.

it's stupid. he knows that very well. but no matter how hard he tries, his irritation towards the inanimate object would not quell.

he wants to sneak under your arms. he tries to gather every bit of courage and selfishness within him to crawl beside you knowing there's a chance of you waking up, but he just can't.

however, he also cannot stand that, instead of him, an inanimate object is the subject of your affection.

so in the gentlest way possible, he tries to pry the toy away from your grasp, his arm freezing if you begin to stir.

he thanks the darkness for concealing the deep blush that paints his cheeks when you try to shake the sleep out of your eyes.

he fears that you can hear his heart loudly thumping against his chest, even moreso when you give him a dazed smile and take his hand that's still on your stuffed toy to intertwine it with your own.

he relaxes back in his seat when you drift back to sleep, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. the stuffed animal was still beside you but the your warm hand in his seemed to get rid of any trace of annoyance he had.

the next morning when you wake up, he has a small pout frown on his face as he tells you, "if you need something to be with you, or something to hold when you go to sleep just... call for me. it's never a bother."

CHILDE

it's often he comes home late due to fatui missions. and usually, your arms are always free for him to crawl into.

so when he sees the stuffed toy tightly encased in your arms, he immediately gets all pouty.

huffs quietly in faux irritation as he makes his way towards you.

despite the silly irritation that disturbs his heart, he takes a few moments to admire how peaceful and how absolutely adorable you look.

your cheek is smushed up against the toy's head as you continue on with your sleep and childe simply cannot find it in him to even pretend to be upset at you.

he is upset at the little stuffed animal though >:(( how dare they take your cuddles away from him? that's not happening. no way in hell.

pecks your cheek gently and ever so smoothly replaces himself with the plushie. when he's in your arms, he kisses the crown of your head mumbling a small "i'm home, love." into your hair.

when you respond to him with a soft "welcome home." he immediately feels his heart beat rapidly with adoration, a tender smile adorning his lips.

he has no shame hauling the poor little toy right off the bed before he nuzzles himself into your hair to sleep, fully knowing you were too dazed to scold him for it.

when you wake up the next morning, you'll see ajax narrowing his eyes, lips forming a petty pout as he spouts childish threats at the toy that is now on the floor. you'll have to playfully reassure him with tons of cuddles and kisses if you don't want him whining all day <33.

KAEYA

it's rare that kaeya comes home late. it only ever happens when he loses track of time hanging around with venti and rosaria at angel's share.

usually kaeya is a smooth and composed individual. but he is a tad bit tipsy tonight, so the sight of your arms draped over something that isn't him made him a bit competitive and petty <3

of course he knows the stuffed toy is a non-living object. but it's currently taking the spot he's supposed to be in so he's got a little problem <3

doesn't try taking the stuffed toy out of your grasp. instead, he sits by your side, stroking the stray pieces of hair out of your face.

he plants his lips on your forehead and lingers there for a few moments until you let out a small groan, a sign you were waking up. "i'm back angel," he says, voice uncharacteristically soft. "now who might this little fellow be? i believe he's taken my place beside you," he teases affectionately.

you're too tired to verbally respond, not even processing his question. but when you realize it's kaeya beside you and you tilt your head up to peck his lips in greeting, you can feel him smile briefly against your lips.

he scoots down to envelope you in his embrace, a hand running up your arm in a gentle manner to coax you back to sleep.

you can't see it but when you abandon the stuffed toy to turn and bury yourself in his chest, he full on smirks.

rakes his hand through your hair and doesn't even spare the toy another glance as he closes his eyes and drifts off to dreamland with you.

when he wakes up, you're still secure and comfortable in his arms, the animal long forgotten and laying on the lonesome, cold side of the bed. all he does is chuckle to himself in amusement before peppering your face with kisses to greet you good morning.

taglist (send an ask to be added or removed): @dawndelion-winery @tiredsleep @codename-hiraeth @mari-san-cant @mininji @artificial-heartache

© withloveajaxx 2022. please do not copy, plagarize, or translate in any way.

Say That I'm Yours (gojo x f!reader)

Summary: Gojo has never experienced jealousy. But after overhearing you talking to Utahime about your ex (who is also her current boyfriend), he can’t fight off the shaky, unfamiliar feeling in his chest. You have to reassure him that he's only yours in the bedroom.

jjk masterlist

Content/Warnings: NSFW 18+, jealous and needy Gojo, pet-names (m!recieving and f!recieving), vaginal fingering, Gojo has a praise kink, and discovers that he loves to be called pretty boy, insecure Gojo, emotional hurt/comfort, a little angsty at first, oral (m!recieving), soft sex, unprotected sex, cream pie. At first, Satoru takes initiative, then you take over. Primarily dom!reader and sub!gojo. (soft/service!dom gojo too?? I think???)

Note: We’ve reached 500 followers! Woo! As a little treat to celebrate, I wrote my first ever smut piece. And uhhhh… I’ve never done this before so I apologize if it comes out a little wonky. If you haven’t read it already, this piece is NSFW so MDI.

P.S: Feedback is appreciated!

P.P.S: sub/soft!gojo rights.

Words: 10k

------

Gojo Satoru never considered himself to be a jealous man.

And personally, when he does get jealous, I do think he would get A LITTLE possessive. But contrary to what everyone else headcanons him to be, he wouldn’t be rough.

As Gege Akutami stated himself, Gojo is perfect in every way aside from his overly childish personality. Looks, wits, having complete mastery of his overall skill, Satoru really does have it all.

So aside from jealousy, he’s also never felt an ounce of insecurity in his life.

Plus, why would he? Growing up, he was brought up as the ‘perfect child’ in his clan, being the ignition to his ego. And currently, your devotion to him is higher than any other person he had previously come across with. And even though you don’t try, your physical expression towards him has fueled his ego in an unnecessarily large amount over your dating period.

You’re not a person of words, but merely a woman of touch. You talk a lot, but you’re not very poetic, so verbally complimenting Gojo is almost non-existent. But he doesn’t mind, since the number of compliments he has received from multiple people about his physical looks is 10x more than how much an average person receives in their lifespan. Though, it’s not a lie if he wants to hear how his eyes are like the sky or how his hair is like snow from you. Typical and repetitive, but it’s refreshing if those words trickle from your tongue instead from people he doesn’t care about.

But they never did, and he accepts that. He’s aware that you’re not the complimenting type, but the way your hand caresses his hair in the winter snow, fingertips lightly kissing his bare chest almost every night, and how you gaze into his eyes as if you were cloud-gazing is enough to make him feel like he’s the most gorgeous man alive. So it’s normal for him to never feel envy, insecurity, or any other negative, self-indulgent emotion. This relationship alone already sets him above cloud nine.

So, what happens if Gojo were to come face-to-face with those unfamiliar feelings for the first time?

—--

Utahime was extremely nervous when she introduced her partner to you and Satoru, especially you.

And it was definitely awkward to reunite with your former ex with your current boyfriend by your side… But it was Utahime’s fault, for she was rambling (and indirectly apologizing) about how painfully weird this must be to the both of you. And while Satoru joyfully soaked in her rare emotion of being flustered, you happily greeted your ex, and both exclaimed that this interaction isn’t weird or awkward at all.

Yes, Utahime’s boyfriend was your first love, but it ended smoothly and with no hard feelings. Your time apart is 5 times longer than your time together. In fact, this feels like a reunion between old friends rather than former, romantic companionship. That being said, Satoru feels at ease since you’re so relaxed and the man opposite to him (who goes by the name Rai) is non-threatening at all.

Therefore, lunch went smoothly, where everyone caught up with each other. You and Rai discussed any milestone events between the gap of seeing one another last and now, while Utahime irritatingly throws insults towards Gojo’s gleeful taunts.

After stopping at an ice cream parlor for dessert on the go, you and Utahime decide to sit outside on a bench to talk about “girl stuff” while the boyfriends entertain themselves.

“I have to take this call,” Rai waves his phone and Satoru dismisses him by flashing a toothless grin. And once the man leaves, the 28-year-old sorcerer ponders where you and his former classmate trailed off too. Sensing your cursed energy, he makes his way to the bench where you and Utahime are chatting.

“There’s no way he did that!” Utahime playfully slapped your shoulder while you hid your face from laughing too hard.

Amused, your boyfriend keeps himself at a distance, admiring how delighted you are, while also basking in how your skin glistens against the sun. But he remains close enough to eavesdrop.

“He did, he did!” Your finger swiped a tear off the bottom of your eye. “For 2 months after our first anniversary, he told the same restaurant that it was our anniversary for free dessert whenever we visited. And they believed it until all the waiters served us.”

Perplexed, Satoru raised an eyebrow, unfamiliar with your storyline. No? On your first anniversary, he took you to the Bahamas and 100% did not do that… Though it’s financially unnecessary, he thought it was a genius plan.

“It is something Rai would do,” Utahime sighed, calming down from her fit of laughter. “I’m 31, but he still sometimes tells the servers that I’m 25 whenever he wants to get under my skin.”

“Oh geez… A literal trickster at best.”

Satoru frowned upon discovering that you were talking about your past experience with Rai and how open you are about it. Well- it’s not that he minds. He shouldn’t mind, actually.

You probably talk about your experiences with Satoru to your friends all the time! Eagerly, he waits for your turn to share a goofy story about a time with your very dearest. But, that conversation never came to be.

Utahime shifts her seat and stands straight with relaxed shoulders. “In all honesty, I’m glad that we are able to talk about this. I was so nervous about how awkward it might be for you since Rai was you know…”

Her voice trailed off to some sort of unsettlement and you took that as an opportunity to smile genuinely at the nervous teacher.

“Ahh don’t be!” You gave reassurance by tapping the side of her thigh. “Rai is a great man! He and I ended on very good terms. I was actually very happy to see him today. Looks much different than the last time I saw him.”

“Really?” Utahime’s eyes ogled. “What did he look like when he was younger?”

Meanwhile, Satoru pressed his back against the wall with crossed arms. Removing his glasses, he barely needed to glance over the concrete corner to see you pulling old pictures of a group. And there you were in the middle while your finger led his attention to a figure of a man all the way to the left. Right from the get-go, Satoru knew that this picture was from you in high school, meaning that it was before you and Rai started dating. That was the only fact you told him.

The 31-year-old squinted her eyes and used her fingers to zoom into the photo. “Huh, he does look a lot leaner, but with more of a babyface. You didn’t become his girlfriend until the beginning of college, correct?”

You nodded. “Yeah. This picture was actually taken the day we met.”

Satoru felt his lips unconsciously pouting at the statement. Do you have any sort of memorabilia of the time you met?

‘It’s a group photo. Don’t be weird about it,’ The sorcerer brushed those uncomfortable, unfamiliar thoughts away.

“You guys knew each other longer than I thought.” Utahime happened to express Satoru’s thoughts out loud.

“Actually, I knew about him first before he met me,” you recalled, which sparked your lover’s curiosity. He leaned closer, so his ears could capture everything you say. Not that it bothers him, of course.

Assuming that the woman you’re talking to had a nonverbal reaction, you laughed outwardly. “You were no longer in high school, but he was very popular in our class! Though… there weren’t that many people, to begin with. Anyways, he would always be chirpy and courteous to those around him. I wasn’t that outgoing so I just kinda admired him from the back of the class until it was our last semester of high school… You’re okay with me telling you this, right Hime?”

“Please, I’m not the envious type. I want to know who my partner was before I met him. But I think your boyfriend might get jealous.” Satoru could hear the hesitance that trailed off his former classmate’s tone. He almost wanted to jump in and laugh at how stupid that assumption was.

Satoru, jealous? It’s sinful to put those two terms in one sentence.

“Nah, he’s not like that.” You raised a hand, brushing it off. “Anyways, where do you want me to start?”

—--

Maybe Satoru did something bad and the Gods punished him for it. With Rai gone for 30 minutes, you told Utahime your old companionship with her current lover. How after months of friendship, you were the one who initiated it and how he was your first everything. Before having proper money, you and Rai would go on adventures as dates to compensate for simple meals. And to make matters worse, Utahime all soaked it up as if she was the spectator in this failed relationship.

Not an ounce of possessiveness or jealousy courses through her veins. Just utter curiosity and fascination.

Gojo told himself that he felt the same thing. However, it left a sour distaste on his tongue and a churned stomach upon hearing all of this. He had his fair share of experiences before his current one and you were being honest about yours. You liked your relationship and that’s that.

But why did he carry the feeling of wanting to whisk you away from ever getting near Rai? No, Gojo Satoru is never jealous. He’s being protective.

“What are your favorite features about him?!” Utahime asked, clamping her fingers together. You sat up straight, rubbing the back of your head with an unsure laugh.

“Uhhh are you sure you want me to answer that?” As much as you’re happy about your friend’s enthusiasm, you felt like you might be setting yourself up in a trap.

“Oh come on! My boyfriend’s really hot and kind, and I don’t have anyone to fan him over with! Please, I won’t get mad!” The semi-grade 1 sorceress grabs your hands, tightly squeezing them. You scanned her eyes, trying to see if there was any envy or malice behind her enthusiastic gaze. However, any implication did not arise and you concluded that your friend was just lovesick with no one to talk to about it.

But Satoru sure as hell didn’t want you to. Actually, he was absolutely sure that you didn’t want to answer either. He’s had enough of this and he senses that you are too. If anything, he can’t wait to accuse his senior of acting like a teenage girl for the next year and forever. Pushing himself off the wall, he began to showcase his loud, obnoxious appearance until he halted at the sound of your voice.

“Like physical? I’m not too sure, actually. I used to like how light his brown hair would get in the summer.” You opened your mouth to continue but closed it immediately.

Satoru tugged on the strands of his white hair, frowning at the color. You liked running your hands through it, but you’ve never commented on how nice it looked.

“Isn’t it gorgeous? Everything about him is perfect-” Utahime fawned. Her face beamed a bright red as she geeked over her man, clutching onto you in the process. Your stuntedness formed into a genuine smile, due to how happy you are for a lifelong friend. At last, she’s found happiness.

She continued. “His hair, his face, his eyes-”

It even shocked you that you managed to interrupt Utahime’s rare tandem. “-His eyes are very beautiful! It’s like looking into a green nebula. It’s what drew me into him the most and I think he was sick of me always saying that.”

“Sincerely out of this world. I can’t describe it in words, but every time I look into them, I feel like I’m in a hypnotic trance.”

“-Like you’re simply lost whenever he’s talking?”

“YES!”

“Yeah, I noticed you blanking out whenever he was talking to you.”

“Oh shut up, you most likely did the same thing when he was yours.” Utahime playfully nudged and you furrowed at her tease.

“Sure.”

Now, this is something that Gojo had to admit that it kinda hurt. His eyes were the staple of his well-being, the frontman of his physical confidence. Yes, you drew your thumbs underneath those rare pairs, but the fact that you never called them beautiful or verbally admired them once stung.

But when Rai was yours, you apparently complimented him like it was no problem.

'Beautiful and captivating, huh?' He whimpered softly as the uncomfortable feeling washed over him. He never heard you traject those words to him before.

“Um… Well, I’m sure that you know, but he was absolutely sweet and very courteous.” Your tone softened as you reminisced about the old times. “We didn’t have a lot back then, but he still managed to make every day feel like we could do anything even though we didn’t have everything… Oh God, that sounds weird. I didn’t mean it that way, I’m so sorry.”

You face-palmed yourself and something inside Satoru’s gut twisted. He would always shower you with gifts and other spoils, but mainly as reconciliation if his busy schedule stole him away from you. Before he knew it, his hand was placed over his heart, his stomach doing massive somersaults.

Do anything… Did Satoru fail to give you satisfaction when he could do everything?

But when Rai was yours, you felt like you could.

“I know what you mean!” Utahime playfully tugged on the strands of her hair. You swore you could see stars beaming from her brown orbs. “One time we forgot our wallets after eating at a karaoke bar, so he had to improvise his way of paying by having me sing for tips and we still had leftover money for more drinks!”

“Ugh, clever bastard… Where does he get a brain like that? That’s also one thing I admire about him.”

“Well in terms of strength, he’s only a grade 2, so he had to be more creative when it comes to fighting curses.”

‘I can get creative!’ He mentally argued, though he never really has to, since he can snap and the curse would perish.

“True… When we’d spar back then, Rai would still manage to beat my ass even though I’m ‘stronger’ than him,” you put the term in air quotes.

You and Utahime convene until the latter’s boyfriend returns from his phone call. He flashed Satoru a wide smile and through his dark sunglasses, your partner analyzed the ex’s eyes.

They are very green and arguably mesmerizing. But, Satoru believes his are prettier.

But, is that what you think?

With an uncomfortable heart, the men returned to their beloved partners. You squealed when Utahime received a loving kiss from Rai, while Satoru snaked his arm around your waist.

You could’ve noticed how secure his grip as if you weren’t so busy talking to Rai about your past as mission partners.

—--

A few days later, you’ve noticed Satoru being extra clingy… and nice?

The usually messy and disorganized sorcerer started to clean up after himself and always abide by what you wanted.

The man who had the palette of a child opted out for a savory breakfast rather than going to a sweets cafe because you wanted to. He’d be more affectionate in public, not letting you out of his reach. Oddly enough, he would settle the bridge of his sunglasses on a lower portion of his nose, so you have to see in his blue eyes when you’d talk in public.

It worried you for a moment since new habits have been created and broken out of the blue. With no explanation, he would always do his best to please you.

From your basic wants to intimate needs, for some reason, Satoru wanted to give it his all.

—--

“What is with you, Satoru-” You sigh as your partner leaves delicate kisses on the nape and then to the side of your neck. His large hands slide down from your waist to your hips and pull you closer to him. “You’re so touchy today.”

Like the last couple of days…

“I just missed you,” his hot breath releases a chill down your spine. He then sets down the spatula you were holding while turning off the stovetop. “Just missed you so much.”

Though your ‘annoyed’ exterior shows any satisfaction, it’d be a lie if you claimed that you aren’t melting from his touch. The heat inside the kitchen adds more to the desire burning deep in your core and it doesn’t help that the person casting the effect spins you around and has lips hovering centimeters away from yours.

“Beautiful…” The tip of his right thumb brushes the bottom of your lip and he licks his own. You glance up to meet his eyes, but his starry blue irises have turned to a thinner ring, as his pupils dilate in infatuation. His remaining fingers cup your jaw, adding more fuel to the pit of your stomach.

His left-hand sneaks down to the flesh of your ass and you yelp in surprise as he pulls you towards him. Taking your open mouth as an advantage, Satoru doesn’t hesitate to slip his tongue in as his lips connect with yours. You wrap your arms around his waist, and the throb between your thighs increases.

“Mmph!” You groan and Satoru initiates the next step by rubbing his hips against your clothed body. Tongues dance together while he continues to grope your ass, but his hand shortly rises underneath your shirt, feeling every curvature of the small of your back. The sloppiness in his pace and the subtle whines in his throat is enough to help you predict how hard he is underneath his layer of clothing. Teasingly, you break the kiss and slip a finger inside his beltline.

A string of saliva bridges between the two lips and Satoru grouches at the disconnect. His lips swell pink from the heated activity while his cheeks are flushed, anticipating more. From his chest, the light blue, silk button-up rises up and down, and your partner pants heavily as if he just ran a marathon.

Usually, at this point, he would make some condescending or teasing remark on how much you want to bed him. However, his mouth remains gaped, only the sounds of his breathing pass between the two of you. Wanting to test him, your index finger slips lower until you can feel the skin of his abdomen. Satoru quickly exhales from the sudden touch, but there’s no usual smirk or raised brow on his face. Only an expression that screams, ‘Please continue.’

“Baby, are you okay?” You gaze at him, still catching your own breath.

He’s strangely quiet as if he’s suddenly shy. And that’s typically not who Gojo Satoru is.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” The hand still underneath your shirt begins to make its way to the right side of your waist, and the closer he gets to your stomach, the amount of butterflies increases.

After noting how your jaw clenches at the action, Satoru bends down and leaves a kiss on the side of your neck. It’s wet, but not entirely sloppy. Instead of using his tongue and straight-up licks down to your sternum like a usual, teasing bastard, he takes time and kisses his way down. The jolt between your thighs returns.

“We- We can’t. I still need to cook for you.” Automatically, your right hand reaches up to the back of his head, using your fingers to grasp his white locks. Your action contrasts your words and Satoru takes that as your approval.

“I’m not hungry.” But the way both hands move below your shirt says otherwise. Since you’re at home, you wear your favorite v-neck with no bra underneath. Freely, two thumbs brush over your hardened nipples, rubbing them in a circular motion, and your hands grip the counter for support.

“But-”

“Right now, I just want you.” There’s a different look in Satoru today. He’s never been so direct on what he wants until now. Whenever he would declare his needs, he would mask his desires with a playful tone. This time, he says it as if these are direct orders from a life or death mission.

Sensing your shift in mood, the sorcerer detaches his tongue from your exposed chest and looks up at you. The inner corners of his brows scrunched and his lips glisten under the fluorescent light. He shoots you a look of what appears to be desperation, almost like he’s in pain.

“Please-” he breathily urges, one hand scooping the bottom of your ass while the other arm is wrapped around your waist, waiting for approval. “I want to make you feel good, right now.”

Your legs tremble at this new side of Satoru and something about him practically begging to fuck you ignites something in your soul. You can’t pinpoint what exactly, but whatever it is, his wish is your command.

“Yeah, okay.” You breathe out and as if it’s choreographed over a hundred times (and to be honest, it is), you feel a set of palms grabbing your bottom and he hoists you up. Your legs immediately wrap around his waist and your lips crash against the side of his neck, hungrily sucking and licking where other faded love marks are. After being able to find his sweet spot, Satoru’s shoulders shudder at the intense feeling while he glides his way into the bedroom while carrying you, his constricted cock begs to be freed from his tight pants.

His main mission right now is to please you.

—--

Once he lays you down, you don’t hesitate to remove your own shirt and toss it to the side, revealing your bare breasts in all their glory. And for a few seconds, Satoru halts on top of you, hands next to your shoulders, soaking up the appearance of a goddess in front of him. A thin layer of drool begins to dribble down his lips.

Previously he’s admired you many times before sex, but because you’ve been so indulgent at his changed behavior, this is your first time noticing how he’s acknowledging your physical appearance. With how reserved he’s being, it gives you a little confidence boost, since you’ve never seen such a man in awe of your presence.

His bewildered eyes, a pool of drool below his lips, the imprint of his massive hardon against his left thigh, all of this is your doing. You’ve brought the strongest sorcerer to his knees, and you’ve never acknowledged that until now. With a burning face, your fingers pinch your own nipples, the pleasurable sensation causing you to moan.

Satoru, who is still on top of you (and fully clothed), bites his lip at how it’s not him forcing that sound out of you. In protest, his right hand carefully pushes away your left palm and continues to knead your breast.

The ends of his hair tickle your bare chest as his mouth trails lower to your stomach, enveloping each kiss with non-verbal, mental praises. He hopes that you understand the messages behind his actions, for he can’t find the right words that will do it justice.

You’re his goddess, and no one else's.

He wants you to feel good.

He wants you to say that you’re feeling good.

He needs you to say that he’s doing a good job, that nobody could ever compare to him.

“Someone’s feeling… very lovey today,” a hitched giggle is drawn out while your palm continues to pet his hair. It’s difficult to formulate a coherent sentence while he’s so busy leaving wet marks around the sensitive areas of your skin. 3 years together and he’s mastered all of your sweet points.

Wanting to share the pleasure, you raise your foot and rub his very prominent erection, gliding it back and forth. The sudden friction in his pants makes him halt his movements, a trembling hand wraps around the ankle of your jeans. Stopping your actions, you look up at an out-of-breath Satoru, who looks rather conflicted between wanting you to continue or needing you to stop.

One more swipe and it looks like he’s about to combust.

“Aww is my pretty boy about to cum in his pants?” The sultriness in your tone even shocks you. Usually, this is Satoru’s role to play, telling you how ‘pretty’ you are underneath him while mocking your desperation for release. But seeing how compliant he’s been, your subconscious tells you to take the dominant part- verbally at least. And not gonna lie, you do want to see the image of Satoru completely soiling his attire. If it wasn’t for his hold on your ankle, you would’ve been sliding your foot along his clothed shaft to the very tip of his very pretty dick.

A small patch of wetness seeps through your jeans and you’ve just noticed how soaked you are. It doesn’t help that the lewd image ingrained in your head is the major cause of all of this.

But what you didn’t know is how close Satoru is already. This whole charade is an experience for the both of you- you’re grunting at wanting to see your partner completely at your mercy while he’s about to combust from your sentence alone.

‘Pretty boy'

‘My pretty boy.’

His cock continues to twitch as the nickname cycles in his head again and again. It’s the first time you’ve ever called him something like that for intimate purposes. Even from his past sexual experiences, he’s never been the one who’s doused in possessive compliments so this is a new discovery for him.

Yes, yes! He’s your pretty boy. Yours and yours only. His heart thumps and his stomach flutters while ogling the wet patch seeping through your jeans. From your perspective, that flustered expression Satoru had is now mixed with a certain fierceness. The brightness in his eyes darkens as he single-handedly undoes the buttons of your jeans and even though he’s still got it, it’s cute at how clumsier he looks.

“No-” He grunts, answering your question. Bringing the middle and ring finger up to his mouth, Satoru coats them with his tongue, though you’re both aware that the extra lubrication is unnecessary. You’re already leaking through your jeans, that’s more than enough.

You swallow, gazing at the man above you, the superiority in your thoughts leaving your head.

‘Aw shit.’

A string of saliva connects his bottom lip to his coated fingers and Satoru swirls his tongue around your right areola.

“Haaah…” You gasp and fist the bedsheets and the skin of your boyfriend’s hand disappears below your panties as those long fingers trace along your puffy lips, a silent warning that he’s about to enter.

Shimming off your pants but leaving your underwear on, Satoru sits up more on his knees and eyes the bottom of your panties, the darker shade due to your juices adds more to his arousal. Yes, he felt how wet you are. But upon seeing how soaked you are, he’s extremely close to going completely feral.

“You’re leaking…” He replies astounded like this is a brand new sight for him. Your hips angle up, trying to match the slow pace of his fingers, your cunt beckoning for his fingers to slip in.

“Mhm, yeah. I am.” Your patience is starting to wear thin.

‘Is this some type of long foreplay?’ You thought to yourself, biting your lip.

Though you like this ‘wonder-like’ version of Satoru, you just want to feel him. Spreading your legs farther, your hand cups above his that’s hovering over your wet core. “You feel that? You feel how soaked I am, Satoru? It’s all- oh God… It’s all for you.”

If you weren’t so desperate for him to continue, you’d find yourself extremely pathetic for being the one indirectly begging for him to begin. And upon seeing your need, Satoru doesn’t waste any more time. After all, it is his duty to satisfy his queen.

Almost apologetically, his two fingers slip inside- warm, gummy walls instinctively tighten around them. Trying to add more stimulation, his thumb presses on your clit, rubbing in circular motions. His free hand palms his own erection and his hips begin to rut against it, pacing with how his fingers curl inside of you.

Satoru thrives on how contorted your face is, how your eyes roll to the back of your head and how your lips form an ‘o’ shape. The way that both hands tightly grip the sheets beside you, but how you desperately claw on them as if it’s his muscular back. Your hips buckle up, grinding the open air and he marvels at how ravenous you look.

“Sa- Satoru nghhh- yessss,” you reach out trying to grab his arm- grab any body part. Still pacing back and forth, Satoru holds out his free hand and you grip it tightly.

“Yes?” He groans with you, the squelching sounds of your wet cunt taking his fingers are music to his ears. You mouth his name again, mixed with urgent moans. He himself can feel precum creating a pool on his underwear. You try to speak and he wonders what to do next.

Does the fist himself while he continues fingering you? Or should he just focus on you? He can take care of his needs later. Right now… Right now Satoru wants needs you to-

“I’m about to… I’m about to cum.” You squeeze the last 4 words with clenched teeth.

“Then go ahead, sweetheart. Cum nice and hard for me.” He licks his own lips, nodding along with you like your release is also his.

“No.” You hiss and his eyes widen, surprised by your answer. Immediately, the thrusting of his fingers slows down to a stop. And you whimper at how you’ve edged yourself.

“What’s wrong, baby? Did I do something wrong? Did you not like it?” His mind races with many factors on how he displeased you. You seemed to have enjoyed it. The way that your insides squeezed around his fingers was enough to tell him that he was fingering you in the right places.

Settling from your almost high, you laugh and scoot closer to him, calves sliding underneath the middle of his thighs. Glancing at his perplexed face, you reach up to his white-collar, and yank him down, his lips connecting to yours once more.

You can feel the sound of his grunt vibrate on your tongue and like a pro, your fingers nimbly work their way down, undoing the first three buttons.

“I loved it,” you mumble between the heated kiss. “I was so close, but I want to cum from your cock, not your fingers.”

“Huh?” Satoru exhales sharply. His already flushed face deepens even more and the confident fire in you returns. Biting his lips, your hands trace down from his chest, purposely brushing over his nipples, and press on his muscular abdomen. Your left-hand removes the small leather strap from the buckle and tugs him closer.

“What are you doing?” He asks as if his eyes have deceived him. Your left fingers successfully undo the buttons of his jeans with one hand while your right ones lightly graze over his restrained erection. Satoru exhales, hips involuntarily rocking back and forth.

“What else?” You tease, applying more pressure against his clothed shaft. “Remove your top for me, Satoru. It’s not fair that I’m the only one naked right now. Why are you being so shy all of a sudden?”

Complying with the request, but ignoring your question, Satoru unbuttons his silk top, fingers fumbling and shaking. It is cute to see, but his sudden nervousness makes you nervous as well. Why is he being so fidgety? Did he do something bad?

On his second to the last button, you place your hand on top of his, signaling for him to stop. Reading the uncertainty on your face, Satoru can’t utter a word. His flushed chest heavily breathes, waiting for your next thought.

“What’s wrong, Satoru?” You speak softly, with an edge of worry.

“What do you mean?” He tries to play it off, but here’s the one thing about Gojo Satoru. He may be good at hiding his feelings, but if you interrogate him in a highly vulnerable environment, he’s shit at pretending. The warmth in his cheeks adds another knot of evidence.

Tugging on his wrist furthermore, you encourage him to sit down, officially halting the intimate activity. Disappointed by his lack of usual finesse, Satoru’s face beams in embarrassment rather than arousal.

“I mean…” You pull a pillow, hiding your exposed chest. “Why are you so nervous?”

Satoru does his best to pull a mischievous tone. “Is it wrong to be nervous when I pleasure my goddess?”

“ I-uhhhhh,” Your stomach releases butterflies, due to his suaveness. However, you still feel how hesitant Gojo is. It’s like facing a virgin. “You’re always very confident during sex. I’m usually the flustered one.”

You chuckle, pointing a finger at yourself, but your boyfriend hides his eyes through his hair. Frowning you scoot closer, as you settle your way onto his lap. Your arms wrap around the back of his neck and your wet core presses against his softening erection.

“Come on baby, talk to me.” You press an open-mouth kiss on his right pec and a small nibble on his collarbone. Satoru shudders at the warm feeling as he wraps his arms around your back to pull you closer. “Please?”

It took him a while, but the sorcerer finally connects through eye contact, his magnificent ocean eyes sending a loving shrill down your spine. You find yourself getting lost in his gaze.

“I overheard you and Utahime talking on the bench, the other day,” he grumbles and your ears perk up at his answer.

“How much did you hear?”

“I heard enough to know that Rai was able to make you feel like you could do anything in the whole world.” His voice drops and so does your heart. “Even with everything I have, no matter how many riches or treasures I give you, it’ll never amount to anything that he gave.”

Your face drops to a frown, shocked at what you’re hearing from both ears. How on earth did he assume that?!

“No baby, no.” You coo, sweeping the soft, pearl-like strands of hair from his forehead. Your lips plant on the recently exposed skin, and you slowly travel down to his nose, rosy cheeks, and jaw before stopping inches above his lips. Satoru whimpers at the distance, while also recalling your denial.

You slowly inch forward. “That was all in the past, my love. Rai is a great person, but the amount of affection he has given is no match to how much care, devotion, gifts (you jest by nibbling on the cartilage of his ear), and love that you've given me. Likewise, my feelings for you are incomparable to how I felt towards him. Don’t compare yourself to my past experience, Satoru. You’re my present and future.”

He swallows at your words. The sadness in his blue hues brightens into love and hope. His lips gape as he looks at the face that is inches above his. Truly a goddess in human form.

“Really?” He still needs to feel reassured.

‘Please tell the truth.’

“Yes, truly. I love you more than any man or woman I’ve ever come across and will come across.” Your thumb grazes his bottom lip as he mumbles back the same three words. The kiss starts slowly as if he was still hesitant over the whole ordeal. But your eagerness helps push him to come back to his comfort zone.

As he inserts his tongue into your mouth, you begin to pace by grazing his hair through your fingers. Your hips rock, lapping over the hardening member below, and the butterflies from your stomach return.

But before you can escalate even further, Satoru pulls away, this time earning a whine from you.

He breathes heavily, pulling on a rather teasing pout. “Say that my eyes are pretty.”

“What?” Your fingernails lightly trace over the sides of his neck and your partner shivers from the tingling sensation.

“You don’t compliment me, ever.” He forces out, rather pettily. “Just this once, please say something nice about me.”

His last sentence is hushed and desperate-sounding. You giggle at his shyness once more and peck the tip of his nose. Though, your stomach swirls with guilt, as it seems like you never showed him enough love.

Time to fix that.

“I’m sorry if you got the wrong message,” your lips travel to his neck, words vibrating through his flawless skin. His head leans back and his Adam's apple bobs from the pleasure. “But I always think that you’re beautiful, Satoru. It’s just that the whole world knows it.” Slowly, you remove yourself from his lap and have him lie flat down on the large mattress.

With all four limbs pinned around him, you continue to shower him with praise. You ravish every piece of exposed skin on his body starting from the top and he flushes brightly while looking away. “I thought that you’d be sick and tired once you hear it from me multiple times.”

“Never… I would never get sick of it coming from- ohhh…” Satoru hisses as your hand lightly tugs on the roots of his hair. With your right knee moving to the middle of his thighs, you put slight pressure on his balls, having him slowly grind for more friction.

“Your hair is purer than any shades of white and softer than all the silk I’ve ever touched.” Your grip softens as you kiss the side of his head. Soon after, you travel down to his eyes. Thumbs softly brushing the delicate skin underneath them. His blown-out pupils stare directly at your soul, the power of his six eyes distinguishing the warmth that flows through your veins.

You place a peck on each outer corner. “If only words can bring justice to how mesmerizing these eyes of yours are. Did you know how embarrassed I was the day you first removed your blindfold? I thought that I wouldn’t be able to pry away and you’d catch me staring.”

“I did. I caught you all the time.” He hums amused, but his gaze never leaves yours. Though it’s just the two of you in this room, you whisper a message that is created for him and only him.

“The sky and ocean, all-in-one. How did I get so lucky to see the gates of heaven when I’m still walking on this earth? Maybe I instead, am the honored one.”

His heart swells at the softness of your words. You, the goddess in his life, find yourself the honored one because of him. It nearly brings tears to the god-like sorcerer’s eyes.

Satoru slithers his large palms where your ass meets your thighs, unable to keep his hands away from you. He molds them and you swallow, the throb in your pussy begs to be touched, to continue unfinished business.

“Slow down, pretty boy.” You purr with a kitten-like grin. His hands around you clamp at the name and your knee feels his hips thrust up. His eyes almost roll back and his nose scrunches at the endearment.

“You like being called that, huh baby?” Your knee presses against his clothed crotch, earning a wince from his pretty mouth. “Is that all I need to say to get you this vulnerable? Call you my pretty boy?”

Another grind against your knee. Satoru looks up at you in a hazed condition. Though the main event hasn’t arrived, he looks like he just came from a 3-time post-orgasm state. With the cat biting his tongue, Gojo nods profusely, desperately uttering yes.

Sweat seeps through his button-up as you kiss his glossed lips. This time, you and Satoru had to fight for dominance. His is pure infatuation and desperation, while you want to gain control in taming the strongest sorcerer. You bring your body down as he slips a finger through the hem of your panties.

“Please…” He begs as you pull back, crotch fully grinding against yours. His hands move your hips in a slow rhythm, your wetness staining his already soaked imprint. The friction of your panties is enough to make you cum alone. “I want to make you feel good. Please let me make you feel good.”

That can happen, but seeing a vulnerable Satoru below you, desperate for your pleasure while curling his toes at every praise is rather enjoyable. A new, undiscovered flame lights your stomach and you want to do what it takes to explore this rare opportunity.

“You always do that,” you pout, going lower. “But this time, I-” Each word, leaves a love bite on his neck and down to his collarbone and chest.

“Want.”

Bite.

“To.”

Bite.

“Make.”

Bite.

“You.”

Kiss.

“Feel.”

Bite.

“Good.”

Bite.

You tug on his hard nipples with your teeth and fingers, making Satoru buck up in surprise.

“Nghhh!” He pants, tears pricking his eyes. His hands grip the sides of the bedsheets and since you’ve moved lower, his hips are humping nothing but air.

Removing the last two buttons of his shirt, you encourage him to shimmy out of it and toss it to the floor. No distractions.

As you move lower to his abdomen, you continue to spill praises and all the verbal affirmations that you’ve never told him. You feel extremely guilty for neglecting him in that aspect since you believe that he thinks that he just doesn’t need to hear anymore, so you want to make up for it as much as possible.

When you make it down to his pants, you debate whether or not you want to tease him even further or just begin business. His legs tremble the moment he feels the belt unfastening.

“Are you okay baby?” You ask innocently, tracing one hand around his v-line while the other gently grazes on the massive bump in his jeans. Satoru throws his head back, gripping both of your hands with his.

“My love, please.” His throat is dry, and his neck all the way down to his abs are decorated with your love marks. “I’m going to cum just by this- I can’t- I- Oh my God…”

“You can cum twice, can’t you?” He barely notices how you already unzipped his pants, the only layer blocking your skin from his dick is the heavily coated gray boxer briefs. It rises as it is freed from the constricted attire. After removing his trousers, you begin to toy with the outline with your hand. You can already feel the drool pooling in your mouth.

“I didn’t know you could get this soaked, Satoru!” You’re genuinely impressed by how much pre-cum your boyfriend is able to produce. On your hottest nights, he’d already had his dick pumping inside you if he were this horny. “How lucky am I to be dating the world’s prettiest boy with the prettiest dick?”

Satoru wants to laugh at the compliment, and retort something cheesy. But his mind is too swayed to even think coherently. He is pretty. You’re his pretty boy.

He loves that.

Peeling off his stained boxers, his hard dick springs freely, the light reflected by the sheer coat of his juices. The flushed tip leaks even more out and you almost feel pity at how long you’ve left him waiting.

The sorcerer can barely raise his dizzy head to see what’s going on. When you make eye contact with him, a devilish smirk appears on your face and Satorh’s thighs clench when he feels your hot breath going near it. He’s almost afraid of what you’re going to do.

“J-Just- just… Aghhh, my love! I-” He is instantly greeted by the softness of your mouth and hand circulating around him. His balls are heavy with cum, the only thing prohibiting him from shooting down your throat is his sheer willingness to draw out this pleasure as long as possible.

You can’t go all the way down, as the halfway point is already your limit. As your right hand strokes the bottom portion of his shaft, your left pays gratuitous attention to his balls, massaging them to increase the pleasure.

Meanwhile, your own cunt is begging for the pleasure Gojo’s receiving. With your knees still on the bed, your ass sticks up in the air, the angle forcing your sticky wetness to travel down to the front of your core. It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re already leaking on the bed.

At this point, Gojo is already babbling incoherent sentences. His head lolls to the side, his blue hues barely visible due to how far they rolled back. His right-hand fists the bedsheets, knuckles paling due to how tight he’s pulling on them. The other is submerged in your hair. He’s more gentle about it, but every once in a while he would subconsciously thrust a little too hard, making you gag. You encourage him to keep going by swirling your well-coated tongue around his tip.

A few more pumps, Satoru is spilling. His abdomen flexes at the intensity, veins popping out in his lower stomach. Your head bobs to match his quick-paced movements, but he’s losing control of himself. Satoru’s thighs flex as he humps up, forcing more of his cock into your throat.

“Baby,” he warns feverishly, gripping tighter on your hair. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming-”

Your head spins at the intensity, barely being able to take a breath. You hum, sending vibrations down his twitching cock.

He groans and whines, yearning for the long-awaited release. His toes curl and his muscled thighs shake as his member shoots long streams of cum down your throat.

“You’re so good to me… So, so good.” The grip on your hair turns into strokes as you swallow all of his seed. Once he relaxes, you slide your mouth from his cock, jaw aching from the rigorous pace. However, that’s not the only part of your body that’s aching.

Your cunt begs to be taken care of as you crawl over a recovering boyfriend, who’s still catching his breath.

The desperation in his eyes has cleared, but the lust still remains. You lick your lips before interlocking with him, your bodies pressed against each other. His hands roam around your back before one slides down to your ass, underneath your underwear. You grunt at how grabby he still is.

“Don’t you want a break?” Though, it’s a ridiculous inquiry, since Satoru’s hard shaft is already rubbing up against your pussy. You both simultaneously moan at the sensation.

“No breaks for you,” he chuckles as he pulls you in for a kiss. “I still need to make you finish. My poor baby has been waiting for me, huh?”

You sneer at his tease. “You cum once and all of a sudden, you’re back to the way you were- Woah!”

In your next blink, you find yourself lying on your back, your recently relieved lover now hovers over you. It really is like looking up at the sky, his glossy eyes shining brighter than the blue sky outside. You feel your entire body heat up as he ogles you from your head to your feet.

“Absolutely divine,” his voice rasps, the cock you just fucked with your throat taps against his thigh, clearly aroused. You rub your thighs together, looking for some relief. “Now, where were we before you sucked me off?”

The edge of his pointer finger traces around your folds, outside of your panties. He knows how much you love the friction, as you grind against his finger, nipples hardening at the action.

You moan softly, enough to capture his attention. “Satoru-”

The star-like gaze you offer sends the message completely. Bending down, Satoru plants a long, passionate kiss as he circles your clit with an additional finger. You squeak against the pleasure, wanting more. More, more, more.

“Why are you so beautiful?” He mumbles, barely pulling away from you. Your saliva connects each other’s lips and no longer having the patience, you take his hair and pull him down.

His flushed chest lies against yours and Satoru leaves open mouth kisses on your neck, hitting all of your major sweet spots before trailing down to your breasts, the same way you did for him not too long ago.

With his long tongue, Satoru teasingly circles around your areola before fully latching onto your nipple, biting and sucking to his heart’s content.

You roll your eyes back to the incredible sensation, a warm shrill traveling around your body. It leaves your cunt even wetter, desperate for parts of Satoru that aren't his fingers.

“You're such a good boy,” a new nickname leaps from your tongue and swims into his ears. Satoru tenses at the pet name, and you can feel the vibrations of his whimper against your breast. Your fingers lace over the strands of his white hair as he continues to play with what seems to be his favorite features of your body.

But even with the jolting sparks of sensitivity those buds provide, it’s not enough to satiate the burning drive in the pit of your belly.

“‘Toru,” you say sloppily, wiggling your hips to the rhythm of his fingers. “I need you- inside me. Fuck me- Please.”

You bite your lip and he lifts his head up, the infatuation still possessing his very being.

His digits leave your clit and instantly, you grind for the missing feeling. Satoru nods as he removes your panties, basking in the beautiful bareness. The slickness laminates your intimate area, something that temporarily captures your partner’s attention.

He supports himself on top of you but furrows his eyebrows.

“No condom.” He displays an innocence in those orbs, mixed with twinges of disappointment. You laugh and shake your head.

“I’m on birth control. You can cum inside me as much as you want now.”

It makes his ears perk, mouth slightly parting from the genuine surprise. You’ve both never done it raw before, but you trust Satoru with your entire life to make this decision.

“Are you… Are you positive?”

“Yes, and my pregnancy results will be negative.” You stick your tongue out at the pun and Satoru laughs at your cheesy joke.

“I love you.” He looks at you earnestly, pressing a light kiss to your lips.

“I love you too.” You say as he lines up the tip to your leaking hole. It’d be a lie to say that you weren’t nervous, but the excitement and the fogginess of your arousal override any negative feeling.

Spreading your legs even wider, Satoru goes in slowly. Thanks to the accumulated fluids you’ve both produced, slipping in comfortably is an easy task. However, your partner struggles to keep his composure at the foreign sensation.

You throw your head back as your body welcomes his cock, no latex rubber blocking the two of you. Of the many acts you’ve done together, this is the first time where it’s just you and him.

“You’re so tight… And g-ood.” He stammers, stopping only halfway. Satoru clenches his teeth to prevent himself from releasing prematurely. Man, thank God he already came once, or the pent-up sensation would’ve ended him. “Oh, you feel so good- taking all of me in.”

He grunts while inching deeper inside of you, nuzzling his face into your neck. You have your mouth pressed against his trapezius, teeth sinking in the skin.

The satisfaction of feeling his heavy balls rest against your entrance enables you to grind on his flesh. The cascades of whimpers fall out of your mouth, beckoning for him to move.

Satoru starts slowly, his arm cradles your neck for support. Breathless moans from his end tickle your neck.

“Faster-” You suggest and your every wish is Satoru’s command. His pace quickens, and the sounds of his skin slapping skin move in a rhythmic beat. “Yes, thank you! Good boy- oh my g-”

Your vision blurs as his cock perfectly hits the g-spot, your legs wrap around his hips to adjust the angle.

Satoru lifts his head up, seeing stars. Tears accumulate at the edge of his eyes, his puffy, red lips practically drooling from the pleasure. He kisses the corners of your lips, whispering.

“Am I good enough for you?” It almost sounds like he’s embarrassed to ask.

The back of your fingers stroke his face before combing through his hair. “Yes baby, you’re always so good for me- so perfect and beautiful. You are more than enough for me- hahhhh… yes, yes, yes!”

Your praises are cut short as you feel a jolt in your stomach. You’re almost there, your calves pull Satoru’s hips, encouraging him to drive faster and harder. He looks like he can barely hold it in.

“My pretty boy is always so good for me-” You coo, repeating the same thing over and over. "Right baby?"

“I- I- Mhmm… ‘m yours.” His red face scrunches, quiet pants turning into loud whines. “I’ll always be yours… Please, mghh- please say that I’m yours- nobody else."

His insecurities flow out of his mouth with no filter stopping him. It’s unfair, but Gojo Satoru hates the burning sensation in his chest, realizing that someone else once belonged to you and you belonged to them.

Instead of jealous rage, he emotes envious fear.

No- he’s yours. Only him and him alone. After all these years, he realizes that he doesn’t want to be alone. Satoru will give you anything and everything to his avail to never leave him.

“Please, please, please…” He begs. Desperate whines accumulate as a free hand cups your bouncing breast. His slick cock twitches in you, yearning for a release. Satoru doesn’t know how much longer he can hold it in, but he needs you to come undone first- his goddess, his everything.

Your hands cup his pink face, forcing him to gaze up at you. Those infatuated pairs he once expressed turn into a gape of restlessness. He still needs to be reassured that your mind, body, and soul belongs to him as he does to you.

“Everything about you is made for me. Your spirit and body are mine.” Your stomach flips as the fire burns higher. Your toes curl as you’re moments away from approaching your orgasm. Satoru’s heart thumps 3 times faster than the pace he’s thrusting in.

“I am yours and you are mine, understand baby?” You continue, head spiraling. Satoru nods vigorously, his own drool pooling down to the side of your face. Oh, how he loves this feeling. His heart is warm and his desires are satisfied all due to your love. “You’re my one and only true love- forever and always. Always my pretty, handsome, perfect boy. Nobody could ever compare to you. Can you say that for me?”

His cock painfully twitches, bits of cum slowly spilling out of his slit. It’s too much. He can’t hold it in anymore.

“I’m yours- ‘m only yours.” He dedicates, in short sputters, saying your name. “I love- mmgh- I love you. Oh my God, -always yours, only yours.”

“I love you, Sa- hahhh- ‘toru!” Your volume rises as you praise his name. It sounds so beautiful as it rolls off your tongue. Your legs clutch tightly around his back, and your body pushes up to press against his.

His hips thrust faster, tightly wrapping his arms around your back and hips to hold you up. Moaning your name, Satoru is in a daze. His momentum is vicious as the animalistic side in him attempts to make an entrance.

“I’m cumming, Satoru! I- I-” You shower him with praises as he finally tips you over the edge. You see flashes of white and shake violently against his hold, gasping as your body rumbles into a turbulent orgasm. Your thighs quake as euphoric bliss travels through your system.

During the start of your orgasm, Satoru begins soon after. With one final thrust, he moans as he sets you back on the bed. His abdomen clenches and small tears spill from his face as his mouth creates an ‘o’ shape. Soon after, he grits his teeth, stammering your name as several long, white ropes shoot out, his love spilling inside of you.

Satoru continues to thrust slowly, riding the high of arguably, his best orgasm of all time. You shudder in his hold, with no words that are worthy enough to process what just happened.

You lazily smile up at the ceiling, combing through his hair, and after a few minutes of silence, he finally pulls out. His cock is drenched in milky rings, and the bedsheets are crumpled and stained with an unjustifiable amount of both of your fluids.

Satoru lies on top of you, speechless. He pants, trying to catch his breath. Even in his most difficult missions, he never had to exert so much air through his lungs until now.

“If you wanted to talk, we could’ve just done that.” You finally break the silence, giggling from the very intense session.

Satoru’s face doesn’t lift from your chest. His eyes flutter as he does a sarcastic eye roll. His cheek splays on your skin, disorienting his speech. “Pfft, that’s boring.”

His fingertips graze over your forearm, trickling down to your wrist and then enveloping your fingers with his. Satoru’s larger thumb massages your knuckles, before bringing them up to his lips.

“You know,” You stir, rocking the hand that’s intertwined with Satoru, side-to-side. The tone you bring is gentle but serious, bringing up something that isn’t the typical lovey post-sex topic you guys would initiate. “There’s no need for you to get jealous over anything, Satoru. You’re the only one I want.”

Slowly, he rises and peers at you, the pearl-white strands dusting over his glossy eyes. “I know... I just didn’t know how to handle what I felt when you talked about another man that wasn’t me.”

“I’m sorry about that, baby. Utahime kept pushing me and I was just really happy to see how she finally found her own love, so I just kept on rambling with her.”

“I should’ve taken a video of her for blackmail.” Satoru scoffs at the lost opportunity.

“However,” you laugh, shifting the conversation. “I did like this jealous side of you. It was cute.”

Gojo’s mouth drops at the comment and some confusion stems from his sentence.“My jealous side is… cute?”

As I stated earlier, I whole-heartedly believe that Gojo would get possessive, in ways that may differ from what other people think. He can take over the whole world with the palm of his hand and force his way to do the unthinkable. But if there’s a rare, uncontrollable factor that could pull whatever or whoever he cherishes away? Then, he gets desperate.

Gojo Satoru would get possessive by clutching onto his loved one, asking if he’s enough, and giving all that he could. After all, he was a gifted child who was the exact norm of perfectionism. So when he sees a competitor who could challenge his being, he’d crumble, get desperate, not knowing what to do.

But, just reassure him that no one could ever beat him.

“Yes, cute! Can we do that again next time?” You giggle at his very prominent pout.

“I’m not the only person that’s switched roles. You’re quite mouthy and feisty when you take charge.” He glares, but softens wholeheartedly at your amusement when his eyes connect with yours.

"I am only yours, right?" Satoru whispers once more, inching closer to your face, hinting at an answer that he wants to hear again and again.

From lust, to fear, to love, those same blue eyes cultivate the same message he had always intended to deliver.

"Yes, Satoru." You rub his back as he nestles his head on your chest, finally humming into relaxation. "You're only mine."

Satoru Gojo is yours and only yours. Always have, always will.

@ 𝙭𝙓𝘿𝙞𝙜𝙞𝙂𝙤𝙙69𝙓𝙭 𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮...

AND GOD KNOWS I'M TRYIN', BUT THERE'S JUST NO USE IN DENYING... ❤︎︎︎︎ THE OTAKU IS MINE ❤︎︎

⏯︎︎ OTAKU!GOJO X BIMBO!READER SERIES

bunny, how on earth did you end up dating this huge otaku nerd? urgh, you actually like him and match his freak too? and he buys you what?! omg! what will your friends think?!

⏯︎︎ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘

𖦏 genre: college au

𖦏 ratings: 18+MDNI. unprotected, ecchi gojo, dubcon, cnc, bdsm, puppy play, public sex, creampies, spanking, sugar daddy/baby dynamics, edging, squirting, threesums, femdom, the ridiculous ass pervy pet names gojo gives you & reader is called 'bunny' in lieu of 'y/n'. each story will have warnings on its story page.

𖦏 pre register: comment to be tagged. i may not respond to everyone but rest assured if you comment you will be tagged!

𖦏 gamer's guide: all fics are listed in chronological order, but likely won't be written in chronological order. summaries subject to change slightly. they also will be written over time so please don't rush me for the next installment but feel free to ask me questions i love talking about this lil freak❤︎︎

⏯︎︎ 𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘:

𝐥𝐯𝐥 𝟏: ❝ DIGIMON—BUT MAKING U CUM IS MY REAL HOBBY! ❞

𖦏 your best friend gojo is a hopeless otaku virgin with zero rizz that's still obsessed with digimon—despite being a grown ass man. you're a slut who despite her best whoring efforts—can't cum. you'll take his v-card and he'll fix your broken pussy, deal? ⏯︎︎ plays: 13.3k

𝐥𝐯𝐥 𝟐: ❝ STICKS N' STONES MAY BREAK MY BONES BUT CHAINS N' WHIPS EXCITE ME! ❞

𖦏 so now that you have a filthy rich boyfie who is completely obsessed with you and has moved you into his house, you're winning, right? or you will be at least— if can survive a trip to the sex dungeon. don't worry it's professionally sanitized after each use! ...what? that's not what you're worried about? oh... ⏯︎︎ plays: lvl in-progress

𝐥𝐯𝐥 𝟑: ❝ AND ALL OF THAT WAS OKAY, CAUSE IT WAS IN A 3-WAY!❞

𖦏 the three of you: you, gojo and geto are like peas in a pod, especially since its summer! and if two of you start f*cking in that pod well its only natural that the third want to join in, right? besides, you both already want to f*ck him. just make sure your current boyfie doesn't get too jealous from how hard you are moaning on your other besties' joystick. your only his ecchi angel, remember? ⏯︎︎ plays: lvl in-progress

𝐥𝐯𝐥 𝟒: ❝ IN THE BEDROOM I BE SCREAMIN', BUT OUTSIDE I KEEP IT QUIET—OR TRY TO AT LEAST!❞

𖦏 you can only keep your relationship underwraps from the rest of your friend group for so long. but you need to ease them into the idea first! although, when there's a yacht party for nanami's bday how is your uber clingy otaku boyfie supposed to keep his hands off of you when you're looking like the most perfect pervy princess in that itty bitty swimsuit? ⏯︎︎ plays: lvl in-progress

𝐥𝐯𝐥 𝟓: ❝ YEAH, HE MY MAN, HE WAS NEVER YO TYPE! ❞

𖦏 school is back! thankfully you somehow manage to instill some kind of decency into your otaku boyfie over the summer so he can come across as normal enough to make his own friends. but did you do too good of a job? wait, he actually has a lil rizz now? you mean you aren't the only girl attracted to him anymore... hol'up! ⏯︎︎ plays: lvl in-progress

𝐥𝐯𝐥 𝟔: ❝ MOVE IT UP, DOWN, LEFT, RIGHT, OH—SWITCH IT UP LIKE NINTENDO! ❞

𖦏 hey, when did you become freaker than your otaku boyfie? so he caught you touching yourself to his femdom p0rn when he came back early from a business trip? yikes! now he wants to try it out with you? don't worry you will do a great job training your new play puppy boyfie! ⏯︎︎ plays: lvl in-progress

⏯︎︎ 𝐃𝐋𝐂:

𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐥𝐯𝐥 𝐧𝐧𝐧: ❝PU$$Y GOT MORE M⛧RDERS THAN SHIBUYA.ᐟ❞

𖦏 your loser otaku boyfie wants to take you to an anime convention and enter a couple's cosplay contest. you agree on one condition, he has to participate in No Nut November. Fair trade right? What could go wrong? ⏯︎︎ plays: 5079

⏯︎︎ 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒:

𖦏 soundtrack: [ x ] 𖦏 moodboards: [ lvl 1 ] 𖦏 amazing art by amazing readers: [ x ] 𖦏 faq/thirsts: [ x ]

©𝐛𝐥𝐤𝐤𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚𝐭 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐟𝐱, 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞.︎︎

c*m hub

ellie williams x fem! reader

💋making cash and making love!

cw; +18 content, minors dni!!, dom! ellie, sub! reader, use of sex platform, strap on sex (r! receiving), hair pulling, choking, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, begging, praising, teasing, daddy kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, praise, pussy slaps, messy sex, oral sex (r! receiving), mouth fucking w fingers (r! receiving), degradation…

old collab w/ @abbyscherry that got taken down. thanks again for this amazing work love!!❤️

KEEP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE! BOYCOTT THOSE WHO LET THIS GENOCIDE HAPPEN!

how you can help

“yeah just like that baby, oh fuck. bounce on my cock.” your moans were filling your room, one of ellie’s hands on your ass, guiding you up and down on her strap, fucking you so deep you could feel it on your cervix. “so fucking good for me. taking my cock so good…”

you slammed your hips harder down against her own, making her groan as the back of the strap rubbed against her clit.

“that’s it. ride my dick. atta fucking girl…” you whimpered. the image was so dirty, ellie pointing at your pussy swallowing her strap hole with her phone, your white cream dripping down the length of her cock onto the base on a white ring. ellie could almost taste it on her tongue. taste you. maybe if you were a good girl for her she could clean you all up later. “she’s greedy huh? greediest fuckin’ pussy i’ve ever seen” you moaned, fucking yourself harder onto her, your thighs burning. you couldn’t stop. it felt so good…

“els” you whimpered softly, your weak arms wrapped around her neck, your nimble fingers sliding through her damp hair, tugging just enough to tear a grunt from her lips.

“come on baby speak up, what do you want? you want me to fuck you open for all of them to see?” her deep voice muttered against the skin of your neck, sucking a bruise that you’d proudly wear for everyone to see. her eyes latched onto your beautiful breasts, bouncing with every little jump you took on her cock.

“daddy—”

ellie couldn’t help but smirk, her auburn eyebrows curving.

“daddy, huh?” she chuckled, seeing your cheeks turn red. “that’s right baby, i’m your fucking daddy.” her hips thrusted upwards, making you let out the most wonderful moan she has ever heard as the tip of her cock reached your most sensitive spots. “what do y’all think? should daddy give it to her?” she asked to those who were watching her stream, smirking at the donations and money coming through saying that yes, she should totally fuck your brains out.

wordlessly, you’re nodding your head against hers, not even looking at the donations that endlessly flow, and your lips are pressing random kisses to her neck. The sounds of your small ‘yes yes yes’ chants echoing in her ears.

ellie chuckled. “y’all are too good to her. does she deserve it though? do you deserve it babygirl?” she asked, low, sultry. you could cum just by the sound of her voice.

“please daddy, i’ll be good. i’ll be a good girl.” you begged.

“course you will baby, look at you. fucked out and dumb on my cock already”

“want it. want all of it.” your pleading puppy eyes stared into her greenish ones, grinding yourself down with her cock deep inside of you, making your mind and vision dizzy. it felt so good. to feel her like this.

“yeah? you want it?” you nodded, your back arching as one of her hands came up to your chest to cup your right tit, thumb and index pinching your nipple. “then lay on your back for me, baby.” she slightly pushed you until you were falling on your back, whimpering when you felt her cock slide out of your aching and soaked pussy. you needed her back in. needed her deep. as deep as she could reach.

your eyes were wide but hooded, your body shivered as her fingers trailed down your stomach, across your hip bones and between your legs, where she aimed the phone closer, giving them a good view of your pussy. those hazel green eyes focused on the screen, mouth watering at the sight of her fingers so effortlessly peeling apart your folds, groaning out a soft “fuck” as she watches your hole clench around nothing, your slick dripping. “look at her, i told ya, so fuckin’ needy for more” she rasps out.

a scream rips your throat at the slap she gives to your cunt, making your back arch.

“she really needs it, huh?” next thing you felt? her cock gliding through your folds, teasing you, bumping against your clit. it was so fucking big and thick it always hurt to take it, but it hurt so good… you wanted her to break you over and over again after the first time she filled you up with it, begging her to go harder, to use you. and she had. so good.

you cried out. “that’s it baby. let them hear you.”

“please daddy, please…”

she clicked her tongue. “nuh-uh baby. don’t beg me. beg them.” she smirked, pointing the camera at your face. the chat went crazy at your fucked out expression and teary eyes.

you gulped, staring right into the camera. “please. fuck me please.” you whined, moaning when ellie’s hips thrusted against your cunt, the tip of her cock rubbing against your puffy throbbing clit.

“so fucking needy” she grits out, one hand gripping your hip, and the other still holding the phone somewhat still. “i might as well give it to her, don’t y’all think?” she smirked at the positive comments. and you let out a gasp when she slid in in a quick and harsh thrust, all the way to the base.

“fuck!” you screamed. “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cried out as she started to slowly fuck you on her cock, her hips moving so swiftly.

“thaaats it. taking it so good. nice and deep baby.” you were a moaning mess. you were so full.

“ ‘s too big! too big!” you whimpered, feeling your walls squeezing the silicone. ellie groaned. she believed she could feel you, sucking her right in.

“too big baby? is my cock too big for your little pussy?” she inquired. “look at you, whining about it yet you’re milking me dry. fuck” the back of the strap was rubbing against her clit. “look so good taking it, honey. such a good girl for daddy.” you moaned. one of her hands took a grip of your leg, pushing it against your chest, her cock now reaching deeper, kissing your cervix. your eyes rolled back. she was in so deep.

“fuck me, daddy. harder.” you begged, and she groaned.

“fucking slut. can’t get enough of my cock, can you?” a harsh thrust had you screaming. “you want it baby? want me to break this pretty little pussy open on my dick?” you nodded. “words.” she spat, and your lips parted.

“yes! yes please, daddy.”

scoffing under her breath, she mutters out something along the lines of ‘just a dirty girl’ or ‘too dumb to think’ you weren’t exactly sure anymore, not with how good her cock felt— how good she felt. “look at you, fuckin’ taking my cock so well, shit” She chokes out, the hand she has on your leg, gripping harder. “made to take my fuckin’ cock”

“can’t! els s’too much, please” you wail, fingernails bluntly digging into her arm, leaving crescent moons in your wake.

“stop being a cry baby and fucking take it.” she grunted, pistoning inside you. the chat was going crazy at the sight of your pussy sucking in her cock, the silicone drenched in your juices. you were screaming at this point. “so fucking loud.” she groaned, stuffing two of her fingers down your throat. “there. you just needed something to keep that pretty little mouth of yours busy with, hm? come on darling, open up.” you followed, open up further for her and relaxing your throat, gagging when she pushed them even deeper. “thaats it. gag on my fingers, doll.” there was spit dribbling down your chin as she abused your mouth and cunt. you felt so full. your eyes welled up with tears, they flickered between her hazel green ones and the camera that was capturing the lewd image of your cunt swallowing her whole. “fuck. wanna fuck a baby into you, doll. wanna fill you up. wanna leave you dripping for a week with my cum.”

your cunt clenched around her cock, humming in agreement around her fingers at her obscene words. ellie simply chuckles at the way you continue to gag on her fingers, unable to say anything other than making gargled sounds of agreement. “course you’d want that, to be round with my kids, huh? feel my cum filling your pussy, hm?”

the thought of it alone had you whimpering around her fingers, tears rolled uncontrollably down your already tear stained cheeks as you nodded your head as quick as lightening. “yeah, i’ll make you a mama— fuck. you’ll make the prettiest mama, all swollen with my kids. maybe i’ll fuck two into you, hm? would you like that baby? give me twins? make me a daddy?”

all you could really do was nod pathetically. “answer me.” she grunted, pulling her fingers out of your mouth, making you whimper. you missed them.

“yes, yes, please yes…”

“such a dirty little slut” you whined, your hips pushing against the harsh thrust that she gave you, seeking more.

“give it to me daddy. please give me your cum.” ellie moaned, fucking you harder. needier.

the wet squelches of your pussy taking her cock were filling the room along with your choked out moans. knowing that thousands of people were actually watching you right now as ellie fucked the conscience out of you had your cheeks glowing a beautiful crimson.

you could feel that well-known devastating warmth spreading on your stomach, feeling pressure on your spine. you started bucking your hips against hers, seeking for her to reach deeper. you looked desperate. like an animal in heat. maybe you were. so desperate to cum you were trembling. shaking under her hold. the pings of donations were deafening. “you hear that baby? hear how much they want you? but you’re mine, aren’t you? fucking mine.” you nodded. “say it.”

“i’m yours. yours daddy, yours.” you slurred, feeling cock drunk. so close to cumming. your cunt was pulsing. she could almost feel it.

“you gonna cum, baby? gonna milk my cock, hm?” you moaned. “yeah that’s right. tight fucking pussy. my pussy. my fucking pussy.”

“wanna make you a daddy” you hiccup. “i’ll make you a daddy” that only makes her fuck you faster, harder, cutting off your moans with every thrust. “ellie, gonna… gonna cum!” you somehow managed to babble in between sobs and whimpers.

“yeah, fucking right.” she moaned, feeling her own high approaching by the way the back of the strap rubbed her swollen and throbbing clit. quickly removing her hand and grip on your leg, she places the same hand lightly around your throat, enjoying the way your eyes widen. “gonna give it to daddy, baby?” she chuckled, fingers twitching against your neck.

you nodded, using your own hand to put more pressure on hers. “more…”

the noise she made was somewhere between a breathless chuckle or grunt, you weren’t really sure but she inhaled sharply through her nose. “you really are fuckin’ dirty aren’t you?” she growled, fingers tightening around your neck just enough to have your lips parting and back arching. the lack of air in your lungs only turned you on even more. “c’mon pretty, give it to daddy like the good girl you are” she didn’t have to ask twice. before you know it moans were spilling from your lips as your walls choked her cock, pulsing and creaming all over the silicone as she fucked you through it, camera focused on the way your cum dribbled out of your hole. “good girl. good fucking girl.” she grunted, feeling her high approaching by just the sight alone. “fuck. gonna cum baby. gonna cum inside this tight little pussy. gonna fuck a baby into you. fuck, fuck, fuck!” she moaned. you begged for it. tears swelling in your eyes.

“inside daddy please, cum inside!” you whimpered, feeling her thrust one, two, three more sloppy times before she was grunting and cumming all over her strap.

“fuuuuuuck.” she groaned, fucking herself through it, using you like a little fuck toy. you moaned when she finally stilled, breathing ragged and hazel eyes glasses over in lust.

the pings of donations wouldn’t stop coming. fuck. she was gonna spoil the shit out of you after this.

and maybe she could start now.

“take the phone.” she ordered, handing you the it. your shaky hands took it, your vision turning white for a moment as she pulled out of you. you whimpered. feeling empty. you hoped she would fuck you again. even stay inside and let you cockwarm her.

you watched through the screen, the camera was focused on her exposed chest, perky little breasts making your mouth water. you wanted to suck on them. then, she slowly got onto her stomach and in between your legs, hazel eyes staring up at you and into the camera. you bit down onto your lip, spreading your legs wider for her, to what she hummed. she looked at your pussy. at your swollen and glistening pussy, and groaned. “so fucking wet…” you moaned when the feeling of warm spit pooled in between your folds. she was slowly dribbling onto your cunt. her hand found your pussy to spread the wetness around and expose your twitching hole just to spit on it. you whined, your hips bucking against her face, what made her chuckle. “eager, aren’t we?” and then her tongue was on you, and you were moaning, the phone tilting upwards as your grip staggered. she sucked on your clit and let go with a pop, her free hand coming up to straighten the camera for you. “keep it still or i’ll stop.” she threatened, and your eyes rolled back. there it was. that sultry voice of her that made you drip.

the hand that wasn’t holding onto the phone threads through her auburn hair, tugging just enough that she hums into your pussy, willingly letting you push her head closer. your breath shaky as you continue to watch her eagerly slurp and suck at your folds through the little cracked screen. “sweetest pussy i’ve ever tasted”

you were looking at the chat, reading the messages that the people posted as ellie slowly yet hungrily ate you out. you were biting on your lip, rocking your hips against her face, making her grunt. she looked at the camera, licking you up from hole to clit, sucking on it and making you moan. you knew she was doing it for you, to rile you up.

“fuck, ellie.” you sighed as she suckled on your clit, slurping up your slick and kissing your folds. “your fingers. your fingers please.” you pleaded. and she moaned, one of her fingers quickly finding your entrance and prodding against it, teasing you. “daddy, please.. i’ve been so good”

“you guys think she has? think she’s been good enough for daddy?” the comments filled the screen, the donations ringing. ellie grinned against your folds. she knew what that meant. “well then…” and suddenly she was pushing her middle finger in, making you gasp.

“fuck!” you cried out, your hips bucking against her face to push her deeper. she continued lapping at your pussy, looking at your expressions. she loved to se you fall apart under her tongue.

“yeah?” she inquired. she knew she was good. “that good, huh?” she teased, curling her finger against your g spot.

your fingers tangled tighter in her hair, nails scratching at her scalp. “so good daddy, always” you knew this only riled her up more, made her needier for you. she was thrusting against the sheets, rutting her puffy clit and soaked pussy against the back of her strap for some friction as she pushed in a second finger. you sighed. “yes, fuck. yes just like that.” she hummed as you cried out, feeling your second orgasm of the night approaching at great speed. “gonna cum again, oh fuck, gonna cum again!” you whimpered, and she went faster, sucked harder on your clit.

“i know, can feel it. pussy’s squeezing around my fingers, fuck” she groans hoarsely. “let daddy have it yeah? c’mon, please” she’s begging. groaning when your legs tighten around her head, keeping her caged in.

it’s happening before you can even ask her to cum, like you normally would. your fingers gripping her hair so tightly that she’s hissing, the movements of her tongue and fingers still fucking into you at a hard pace.

she devours you. eats you up. slurps on your cum and satiates herself. you always taste like fucking heaven.

both your worlds disconnect for a moment. you forget about the stream, and almost about breathing as you ride out your orgasm, thighs shaking at the sides of ellie’s face. and when you both come to your senses, you’re spent. and now thousands of dollars richer.

and maybe and just maybe, once the stream is over, you two fuck for hours on end. this time for yourselves, until you’re both passing out on each other’s arms and with cum in between your thighs.

“love you, els”

“i love you, baby”

-

a/n; hi babies, i’ve missed you so much! have a couple of works on drafts for you so you’ll be hearing from me soon :))

also ty so so so so much for the 9k followers i’m so happy i don’t deserve y’all😭❤️

sincerely not | season one

↳ gojou satoru x f!reader

— series masterlist

summary. with an arranged marriage set in place, the sacred bond is doomed with a wife who wants to make the relationship work and a husband who’s ready to ruin it all. unbeknown to him, a tragic fate already lies within the pages of his romance book.

genre. heavy angst, arranged marriage, ceo au, 18+

word count. 213k

fic warnings. mean!gojo, VERY OOC, adultery/infidelity, profanity, explicit smut, violence, emotional trauma/physical abuse from past experiences, neglect, heavy family drama, illnesses, classism, pregnancy, undertones of masochism, undertones of manipulation, abandonment issues, overall toxic relationships, graphic depictions of self-harm, suicide/murder (and attempts thereof), minor character death, plot loosely based on twotm & tre. please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

fic art + playlist + gallery + faqs + ko-fi + misc + podcast feature

one + two + three + four + five + six + seven + eight + nine + ten + eleven + twelve + thirteen + fourteen + fifteen + sixteen + seventeen + eighteen + nineteen + twenty (final) + sequel

status: completed

all rights reserved © 2021 saintobio. please do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.