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ekaterinatepes · 4 months ago

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ARE YOU A GOOD GIRL? jjk men.

feat. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, shiu, higuruma

sum. d!ck inside, gasp and moan filling the room. your boyfriend pays you a visit and one praise they have you cum just in a second, and what do they do? oh, i’m gonna ruin you with that’ they said.

warning. non-sorcerer! jjk men, established 23 you & 31 them, praise kink, petname(s), name-calling(s), overstimulated, dirty talk,

GOJO SATORU

your dorm room was dim, just the amber glow of your bedside lamp flickering against the walls and casting shadows that danced with the rhythm of your bodies. his shirt was tossed somewhere by your desk chair, your panties slung haphazardly over your open textbook—because of course gojo had bent you over your desk first, saying something like “might as well break in your study spot properly, baby.”

but now you were on the bed, flat on your back, his silver hair a messy halo as he hovered over you, hips grinding into yours at a slow, relentless pace. skin hot and sticky, your legs trembling around his waist, your breath coming out in ragged little gasps.

“look at you,” he rasped, sweat dripping down his temple as he dragged his cock out to the tip, just to slam it back in. “fuck, baby—you’re taking me so good.”

your nails clawed at his back. “s-satoru—!”

he groaned at the way your voice cracked, the way you clenched down on him so tight the second he said something nice. “mm? what was that? you like that? like being told how good you are for me?”

your walls fluttered around him. violently.

his eyes widened.

“oh my god,” he said, stilling completely inside you. “no fuckin’ way.”

you were already whining, shifting your hips to chase friction, but he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one hand, staring at you like he just struck gold.

“you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” he whispered, breathless. “you’re gonna cum just from that.”

your face was burning. “shut up—”

but he didn’t. of course he didn’t. this was gojo.

“ohhh, no no, now i have to test it,” he grinned, the corner of his mouth twitching with mischief. “you like being praised, baby? does it make that pretty pussy all messy?”

you whimpered as his free hand slid down, thumb circling your clit in slow, teasing strokes.

“you’re doing so good for me. such a good girl—letting me fuck you like this, letting me ruin that smart little college brain. i know you’ve been working hard all week, haven’t you?”

your hips bucked hard.

“ah—there it is,” he laughed, almost mean. “my filthy little overachiever. studying all day just to get ruined by my cock at night.”

his strokes picked up. so did his words.

“so proud of you, baby. so proud of this body—these thighs, this tight little cunt that’s soaking for me. you’re just perfect. my perfect, obedient, desperate girl—”

your orgasm hit like a truck.

you cried out, back arching violently, legs locked around him as your whole body seized beneath him. your walls clamped around his cock so hard it knocked the air out of him, and for once, satoru gojo was left speechless.

“f-fuck—holy shit—”

he collapsed on top of you, still twitching inside, and laughed breathlessly against your neck. “you just came from that,” he murmured, grinning like he just won the lottery. “from me telling you how good you are.”

you were still trembling.

“i’m never shutting the fuck up again,” he whispered, kissing your jaw. “you’re so screwed, baby.”

and he meant that in every way possible.

GETO SUGURU

it was late—past midnight kind of late—and you’d just finished a soul-sucking group project that left you drained, grumpy, and snapping at anyone who looked at you sideways. which is why, when suguru showed up unannounced, you didn’t even question it. you just fell into his chest with a soft sigh, letting him carry you to the bed like he always did when you were too tired to move.

he kissed you like he missed you. slow and deep, tongue gliding past your lips like he had nowhere else to be. you didn’t even realize when he’d slipped your shirt off, or how your panties were already pushed to the side, or how the heat of his cock was nudging at your folds, thick and pulsing.

“tell me to stop,” he murmured against your lips.

you didn’t.

so he sank in slow, the stretch burning just right, your thighs wrapped tight around his waist, your fingers knotted in the strands of his hair still tied back lazily. he hissed through his teeth as he bottomed out.

“fuck, baby—you’re always so tight for me,” he groaned, his pace steady and firm, hips slapping into yours with a controlled rhythm. “even after all this time.”

you bit your lip, already feeling your body light up like a fuse had been lit in your spine. but you didn’t say anything. not yet.

he noticed it right away—how you squeezed around him the moment his voice dropped, all deep and sweet.

his brows lifted, that soft, wicked smile tugging at his lips.

“wait,” he said, rocking into you deeper. “you like that?”

you tried to look away.

“no, no—don’t hide,” he chuckled, catching your jaw and turning your face back to his. “you’re telling me you get off on a little praise?”

you shook your head. a clear lie.

“liar,” he murmured, leaning down to whisper against your lips. “you’re such a good girl for me. always so wet. always so eager to be filled up.”

you gasped—your body jolted—and your cunt squeezed around him so tight it dragged a curse from his throat.

“oh my god,” he laughed, unhinged now. “you’re fucking serious.”

he started fucking into you harder, deeper. his hand slid down your body, resting on your stomach, pressing there so he could feel how deep he was.

“i’m gonna ruin you with this,” he said, gaze dark with something close to awe. “just words, baby? just a few sweet nothings and you’re this close to cumming? fuck—look at you.”

you couldn’t hold back the noises anymore. every time he praised you—every filthy compliment, every soft ‘good girl’—your moans got louder, your legs shook harder, and your nails dug into his arms like you were holding on for dear life.

“such a perfect little thing,” he whispered, face buried in your neck. “taking me so well. doing so good, baby. you’re so beautiful like this—messy, fucked out, desperate.”

your body locked up.

he felt it, smirked, and gripped your hips tighter. “that’s it. cum for me. show me how much you love hearing how proud i am of you.”

and with a shattered whimper, you came. violently. full-body trembling, eyes rolling, breath stuttering as you soaked his cock.

he groaned into your mouth, slowing down just enough to ride you through it, kissing your lips softly like he hadn’t just broken you in half with his voice.

“mmm, my girl’s got the cutest kink,” he murmured, brushing your hair out of your face as you struggled to catch your breath. “you just gave me a fuckin’ god complex.”

you blinked up at him, dazed.

he grinned, leaned down, and whispered, “don’t worry. i’m gonna make you cum every single time i call you my good girl.”

and the worst part? you knew he would.

NANAMI KENTO

you didn’t expect him to show up at your dorm this late. he rarely came over without warning—he was punctual, predictable, always so polite about it. but tonight, something in his voice over the phone had made your stomach twist with anticipation. his “i’m coming over” had been low, firm, and left no room for argument.

so now you were here. back pressed against your desk, your shirt halfway open, your skirt bunched up around your waist, and nanami on his knees in front of you like a man starved. his tie was off, sleeves rolled up, glasses long forgotten on your nightstand, and you were struggling to breathe through the way his tongue moved over you—slow, devastating, focused.

“you’ve had a long week,” he murmured between licks, his voice thick with restraint. “thought i’d help you relax.”

your legs were already shaking, and you barely managed to stutter his name before he stood, towering over you, fingers ghosting over your trembling thighs. you could see it in his face—the slight pink in his cheeks, the tension in his jaw—that he was holding back.

and when he slid inside you?

oh god.

the stretch was perfect, deep, almost too much. you moaned openly, arms wrapping around his neck, eyes fluttering as he started thrusting into you slow and controlled, like he wanted to memorize the way your body reacted to each push.

and then—you clenched around him. tight.

the second he muttered, “you’re doing so well, sweetheart.”

he paused, eyes flicking up to your face. “...was that because of what i said?”

your mouth parted. you hesitated.

he stared for a beat, and then—something in him changed.

“interesting,” he breathed, voice suddenly darker. “so that’s what gets you dripping like this.”

he pulled out halfway, slammed back in, hard enough to knock a choked moan out of you.

“you want to be praised, is that it?” he murmured, brushing his knuckles along your jaw as he fucked you into the desk. “want me to tell you what a good girl you are?”

you whimpered.

he caught your face in his hand, made you look him in the eye. “you’re such a good girl for me. letting me have you like this. always so polite, so obedient—until i get you alone.”

you broke. you fucking broke.

your body went stiff, orgasm ripping through you before you could even warn him, clenching and throbbing so tight around his cock that his next groan sounded almost pained.

“fuck,” he muttered, hips stuttering. “you just came.”

you hid your face in his neck.

he didn’t stop.

he fucked you through it, whispering into your skin, “you did so well, darling. came so beautifully for me. i didn’t even have to touch you.”

and then, very softly: “what a filthy, perfect girl you are.”

you nearly sobbed.

he wrapped his arms around you, lifted you like you weighed nothing, and laid you on the bed—still inside you, still throbbing hard.

“don’t think we’re finished,” he said, sliding out slow, teasing, only to push back in and make you gasp. “not when i’ve just discovered how to ruin you.”

he kissed your forehead, lips soft and reverent.

“i’m going to praise you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”

and knowing him? he meant it.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

you knew what kind of night it was going to be the moment toji showed up at your door, leaning against the frame like he owned the place, shirt already unbuttoned halfway down and a smug glint in his eyes that said trouble. the man had no business looking that good at midnight.

"heard you’ve been stressin’ over your exams," he said, stepping inside without waiting. "figured i’d help you take the edge off."

“oh?” you quipped, cocky—until his hand gripped your throat lightly, tilting your head back just enough for his mouth to meet yours. and like always, he didn’t ease into it. his kiss was tongue and teeth and a little bite to your bottom lip that made your knees weak.

you didn’t even know when your panties came off. or when he bent you over your desk, your cheek pressed against open textbooks and crumpled lecture notes. all you felt was the heavy drag of his cock, thick and slow, sliding inside until you were full—so full you whimpered.

“fuck, always so tight,” he groaned, pressing his chest to your back. “like you’ve been waiting for me.”

he set a brutal rhythm, fucking into you like he was mad, like he missed you, like he needed this. every slap of skin echoed through the room, and your voice broke with every thrust. but then—

“such a good girl,” he muttered, not even thinking. just slipped out like it was instinct.

and your body snapped. you clenched around him hard, nearly choking on your moan.

he paused.

“…no fuckin’ way,” he breathed, pulling your hair to lift your head. “say that again.”

you stayed quiet. trembling.

he slammed back into you so hard your legs buckled.

“nah, princess. don’t hold out on me. you like that, huh? like bein’ called my good girl?”

you whined, breath hitching, face burning.

toji let out the filthiest, cockiest laugh. “holy shit,” he whispered, licking a stripe up the side of your neck. “you’re tellin’ me you cream the second i open my fuckin’ mouth? shit, baby—you’re so easy.”

his hand reached around, rubbing tight circles on your clit. “go ahead then,” he rasped. “cum on my cock. be my good fuckin’ girl.”

and just like that, you shattered.

you came so hard your thighs trembled, knees giving out under you. and toji? he just held you up, praised you through it, voice low and ragged in your ear.

“atta girl… so fuckin’ pretty when you cum. makin’ a mess on me already?”

he flipped you over like you weighed nothing, lifted your leg, and slid right back in.

“oh, we’re not done,” he grinned, breathless now, pupils blown wide. “you think i’m lettin’ this kink go to waste?”

you barely had the strength to answer, still shaking.

he leaned in, kissed you like he was mocking how ruined you looked. “you’re gonna cum for me again,” he promised. “and again. and again. until you’re cryin’ from bein’ called a good girl.”

and you knew—knew—he meant every word.

RYOMEN SUKUNA

it was late—quiet. the kind of silence that presses in on you thick and slow, where even the smallest sound feels amplified. sukuna’s apartment was dimly lit, just the soft, golden glow from the single lamp in the corner casting long shadows over the room.

you were straddling his lap, completely bare, thighs draped over his, your arms loose around his neck. his back rested against the couch, body warm beneath you, and his eyes—those deep, dark red eyes—never left your face. not even when your hips moved. not even when your breath hitched.

he had you seated right where he wanted you, hands gripping your waist, guiding your rhythm—slow, deep, unrelenting.

and you were a mess already.

“look at you,” he muttered, voice a low, amused rumble. “bouncin’ on my cock like you’re made for it.”

your breath stuttered, thighs twitching.

his fingers tightened on your waist just slightly. “you like that, huh? being told you’re good?”

you didn’t answer fast enough, but your body did—your eyes fluttering shut, hips stuttering, your moan nearly breaking apart in your throat.

and that was all he needed.

sukuna leaned in, mouth brushing your ear with a grin that you felt more than saw.

“ohhh. so that’s what this is.”

his tone dipped—taunting, smug. “my little girl gets off when i talk to her nice.”

you squirmed, half-mortified, half turned on beyond saving.

he tilted his head, watching your tits bounce with every needy rock of your hips. then he slipped a hand up, dragging his thumb lazily across your nipple, his other hand gripping your ass tight enough to bruise.

“you want me to keep tellin’ you how perfect you feel?” he whispered, suddenly more serious. his voice still laced with heat, but there was something darker behind it now. possessiveness. awe. “how tight this pussy is, how it sucks me in like it can’t breathe without me?”

your head dropped to his shoulder with a broken whimper.

“fuck—look at you.”

he let out a shaky breath, hips jerking up. “you’re gonna cum already, aren’t you? just from me talkin’?”

you nodded, desperate, babbling nonsense against his skin.

and then he said it—soft, low, raw:

“that’s my good girl.”

you shattered.

back arching, fingers clawing into his shoulders, your entire body went stiff before it trembled against his. you came so hard around him, so violently, it knocked the breath out of you—and sukuna just held you, smirking against your throat, murmuring filth between kisses.

“knew you were filthy for me.”

kiss.

“but this? fuck, baby. that’s dangerous.”

kiss.

“gonna use that mouth of mine to ruin you every night now.”

you didn’t doubt it for a second.

and from that night on, every time his voice dropped just a little, every time he muttered good girl into your ear—you remembered exactly how it felt to lose yourself right there on his lap, under the glow of that lonely little lamp, with praise melting off his tongue like sin.

SHIU KONG

it was supposed to be just a drive. just a night cruise with the windows down and your hand resting lazily on his thigh, music low and city lights flashing by. but shiu had always been the type to snap once something got under his skin—and you? dressed like that, soft thighs bare and eyes teasing him from the passenger seat?

you knew what you were doing.

that’s why you weren’t surprised when he suddenly pulled into some dark, quiet parking lot and killed the engine without a word.

his voice was low, rough when he spoke, hand gripping your chin as he leaned over.

“get in the back. now.”

you didn’t argue.

the car door slammed, and the moment you slid into the backseat, he followed—tall frame looming, heavy with intent. he didn’t give you time to process, to breathe—just pushed you down until your back hit the leather, and his mouth was already on your neck, hands everywhere.

“you always this bratty?” he growled against your skin. “or are you just desperate to get fucked like a little slut?”

your answer was a gasp, knees spreading on instinct. he chuckled low—one hand pushing up your skirt, the other unbuckling his belt in a way that felt both urgent and terrifyingly controlled. he wanted this, but he wanted to savor it.

his fingers slid between your legs, felt the mess there already.

“fuck—this wet already?” his brows twitched, head tilting. “just from me tellin’ you what to do?”

and then, a little slower:

“…do you like that?”

your breath caught in your throat.

“do you get off on being told you’re a good girl?” he murmured, right by your ear now, voice like hot velvet dragging across your spine. “is that what this is?”

you whimpered, body twitching, thighs tightening.

his grin was all sharp teeth and danger.

“well shit. that’s easy, sweetheart.”

he lined himself up, still fully clothed, only his zipper down, and pushed in with one long, slow stroke. you cried out—sensitive, overstimulated, and shiu loved it. he leaned over you, one hand gripping the seat above your head as he began thrusting, rough and deep, the car rocking with every snap of his hips.

“fuck, you feel good like this,” he panted, watching your eyes roll back. “so goddamn tight. takin’ me so well.”

then—he tried it.

soft, breathless, dangerous:

“good girl.”

your whole body clenched.

he stilled.

“…no way.”

he looked down at you, your chest heaving, face flushed, mouth open in a silent moan, your walls fluttering around him just from those two little words.

“you’re fuckin’ kidding,” he breathed, voice shaking. “you’re actually about to cum just from that?”

you nodded, whining—too far gone to be shy.

he groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder. “oh, i’m gonna ruin you with that.”

and he did.

over and over, thrusting deep, whispering it like it was sacred.

“good girl.”

“such a perfect fuckin’ thing.”

“look at you, clenching around me so sweet just ‘cause i’m praising you.”

he made you cum so hard, you cried—shaking in the back of his car while the windows fogged and your voice echoed against the leather.

and after? when you were still trembling, body boneless under him?

he kissed your cheek, still inside you, and smirked against your skin.

“next time, i’m doing this with the windows down,” he whispered. “wanna see how many people can hear you fall apart when i tell you you’re mine.”

HIROMI HIGURUMA

the city outside was still alive—lights flickering against the windows, muffled car horns somewhere in the distance—but in his office, it was nothing but dim lamps, the soft creak of the floor beneath the blanket he laid out, and the sound of your breathless gasps echoing off his walls.

he was above you. hands planted firm on either side of your head, body stretched long and tense, every muscle in his arms flexing with control as he moved inside you—slow, deep strokes that made your whole body tremble beneath him.

his tie was still on, his shirt half-unbuttoned and sleeves rolled to his elbows. he looked down at you like he was trying to memorize every single twitch of your face, every broken sound you gave him.

“you’re taking me so well,” he murmured, voice rough, reverent. “fuck—you feel incredible.”

and you whimpered.

he paused—just slightly—but his hips didn’t stop.

his brow furrowed, mouth parting as his eyes locked onto your expression.

“…was that it?” he asked softly, his pace slowing, hips dragging almost teasingly deep. “did that do it for you?”

your face was flushed, mouth open, eyes wide—betraying everything.

he let out a low breath of laughter, something between awe and amusement, and leaned down closer, his mouth brushing against your ear.

“oh, you like being told that. don’t you?”

your hands gripped his biceps, nails digging in.

“god, of course you do,” he whispered, hips thrusting again, more deliberate now. “you’re such a good girl for me. lying here, letting me fuck you slow—just like this. perfect.”

your whole body jerked, breath catching. and he felt it—your walls tightening, the tremble of your thighs pulling him in closer.

his voice dropped lower, rougher.

“gonna cum, sweetheart?”

you nodded helplessly.

he smirked—something lazy, dangerous—and dragged his hand down between your bodies, fingers brushing right where you needed them.

“do it. cum for me.”

then, slower—deeper—hot breath against your lips:

“be a good girl and cum for me.”

you broke.

your back arched off the floor, thighs shaking around his waist as your orgasm tore through you—so hard it hit like a wave, full-body and overwhelming. you cried out, clinging to him as your body clenched tight, trembling under his weight.

and higuruma—he didn’t stop. he kissed your temple, dragged his fingers along your cheek, whispered praises while you came undone beneath him.

“you’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, almost too tender for how deep he was still inside you. “so sweet. you always fall apart for me when i say it, don’t you?”

you nodded again, breathless, dizzy.

his lips curved into something between a smirk and a soft smile, brushing his mouth against your cheek as he pushed his hips in deep again.

“i’m never shutting up again, then,” he said, almost like a vow.

“you’re gonna cum from my voice alone by the time i’m done with you.”

and with the way your body responded—shaking, sensitive, already aching for more—you knew he meant it.

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ekaterinatepes · 4 months ago

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ekaterinatepes · 4 months ago

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A Cure For Your Aches

Smau: in which you beg the jjk men to fuck you even though you're injured Warnings: 18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna, Ino, Shiu, Hiro

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ekaterinatepes · 4 months ago

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satoru lovesss his foreign!gf so much it's almost... overstimulating

it’s been two weeks since you’ve seen satoru.

two weeks of good morning and sleep well text threads, two weeks without hearing his thick accent spell out renditions of your name. he calls you whatever he wants now, and you’ve grown to love him.

he shrugged off on some work mission and left you with a kiss on the forehead. you were pissed and confused because you swore he said a few days, not a few weeks. the fucker does this on purpose -- he knows that you yearn for his stupidly comforting presence, now.

who's gonna be there to hold your hand through street festivals, pointing out everything in a way you can understand? who's gonna spell out syllables in your favorite mangas so you can experience it the way he does?

you've let satoru take you on as a dependant. so, that's your excuse for never leaving your house in these weeks, except to work.

when he finally comes home, its with a thick, heavy bang on your door.

you're dead asleep in the back bedroom, hugging your thick pillow to your chest. alternatively, your phone is screaming with lock notifications, warning you that there's someone there. it takes you a solid ten minutes to come to from the sensory overload. and when you finally sit up in bed, you're so high off of sleep that you don't even recognize what you're hearing.

bang, bang, BANG.

then, you snatch up your phone and peek open an eye.

from: satoru! home tonight! (ᵔᗜᵔ) around 10! will let you know when my train stops train is stopping! running home to you

i know you are probably asleep (ᵕ•_•) just didn't want to wait until tomorrow to see you *3 missed calls* from: satoru! if you didn't want to see me... ᴖ̈ you could've just said

it takes you a solid five minutes to absorb the onslaught. then, it dawns on you -- he's here.

satoru is fucking at your door.

you don't think you ever moved so quickly, tossing on a robe and running a hand through your hair. you stop for a second, cupping one over your nose and mouth to assess your sleep breath.

it's actually not too bad, and you doubt satoru would care much. so you spray a mist of perfume on your neck and head to open the door.

you're smling even before his big, lanky body comes into view. he's wearing that same, mysterious uniform, blindfold pushing his hair back on his scalp. it's been ten minutes since he arrived, and even the strongest get weary. two more minutes, and he would've been out of there.

"satoru," you smile, breathless by the look in his eye. he's leaning against the doorframe, his head tucked to compensate for his height. smiling when he sees you again, he turns around to wrap his arms around your waist.

"you were avoiding me?" he teases in your native tongue, lips crossing over yours as he speaks slowly. you shake your head, hands crawling from his shoulders, to the back of his neck.

"you were annoying me," you counter, a similarly mischievous look in your eye. he gasps, then leans to kiss you. it's stupid, but the smile on your face is huge, and you're so happy to see him again. "six texts and three missed calls? so needy."

"ah, you missed me." he's smug, gentle but fearless as he pushes you to the side, reveling in the familiar taste of the air around you. he can smell the promise of food you prepared earlier. he hopes it's something he's never had before, he loves being your taste-tester.

"well, i missed you and your fridge soo much." he's hardly regarding you as you push and lock the door. he's headfirst inside the cool expanse when you turn around, giving him a sideways glance.

of course, your food is his first order of business after being gone for weeks. never mind you, the girl who made the food, to get a fleeting shred of his godly attention. your japanese has been so rusty without him, but you know how much he loves hearing your broken syllables scold him in a way he knew like the back of his hand.

"you haven't eaten in three weeks?"

"two." he emerges with a flushed face and a slice of cheese between his teeth. "what's this?"

"macaroni and cheese."

"woooow, it looks like brick." satoru stands up with the pan in his hands, tossing the top across your counter before reaching in with his bare hands. "this is a weapon, baby."

"can you-" you step to his side, slapping his big hand away. "stop fondling my food. it's only solidified because it's been cold for three days."

gojo places the macaroni back in the pan, then drags his finger across the rippled top. in english he drops his voice sensually and stares right into your eyes, "cheesy."

"i will kill you myself," you reach for an oven mitt, hitting his poking hand with it. "get out of my kitchen. seriously."

he protests, but he's no match for your sage green oven mitt as it comes down on his arms and back. you're trying to push him out, but he's not an easy statue to move. "aww, ba

"no. you're an idiot." you shut him down, more at ease with his presence not floating around your fragile kitchen. you'd make him anything he asks, but you have to do it. for being the strongest, he's so fucking clumsy.

"okay, okay," he gives up, flopping back on your bed. in a passing touch, he opens the top spiraled-gold button on his shirt. "can you bring me some? i promise I'll stop fondling your food, just please?"

standing in front of him, arms crossed with your mitt hanging from your fingers, you try everything not to fall into his mercy. "you could beg a little harder."

satoru gives you a smug little downcast look, sitting back on his hands in a wide spread. you want to dive headfirst into him, but this game of chase was something exciting, something satoru loved and knew he needed.

sometime later, he's got you pinned down in your bed, two fingers deep inside of you as he does everything he can to milk that first orgasm out of you. robe loose and hanging from your skin, you're burying your face in the fabric, tugging at the bed sheets as he leans over the side of your trembling figure.

his hands are so big, they're able to toy with your sensitive clit, kiss the insides of your thigh and crook damn-near five inches of just his fingers right into your crying g-spot. it's a heady feeling, so wicked and familiar that the one thing that could take it over the top, satoru is doing directly in your ear.

"baby~~ m'baby girlll," he's whispering in english, knowing how weak you get when your face goes all hot and flush. his accent does ungodly things to you -- things you'd never admit unless you're being fucked stupid. "cum for me, my sweet..."

"mhmfm, satoru-

"yeah? say my name." he gasps for you, craning his fingers at a sinful crook inside of you. you're drooling mercilessly all over his fingers and wrist, making the slick sounds between your legs heighten tenfold. "sooo wettt."

that fucking does it. his sinful voice, his exact, tiny movements and massages. it makes you crazy. "oh! i'm cummingimummingimcummingimcumming -- satoru!!"

he carries you through it, smirking and full of life as his thick fingertips push and prod at that most sensitive, needy spot inside of you. he's not even close to being done - he wants you to be on the verge of passing out and sobbing for mercy before he finally slips inside of you and carries you to a sensual end.

he counts every time he makes you cum on his fingers with the time passing on the clock, marking the fifth or sixth time with a soft kiss on your cheek.

under him, you're fucking wrecked, hair sticking to sweaty skin, thighs trembling and eyes unable to stop spilling lavacious tears. you're sure that last go around had you squirting all over his skilled fingers, but you were too fucked out and satoru wouldn't say anything until he knows you're alive enough to swallow the embarrassment.

in his own uniform pants, he's been sneaking a hand down there to press and rub off every few minutes, letting your stangled cries do most of the heavy lifting. he's cum untouched by your presence alone a few times, and you hold it over his head like a vice, but he doesn't care. it just shows you how much he needs you -- how much his body ticks for you.

you're limp and panting, thinking the escapade is over and done with when he stands up at the side of the bed, using his clean hand to push his pants down and cock free. he's so wound-tight and sensitive as he gives his little soldier a few tugs to relieve some angst. he's tossing his neck back, rolling it over his shoulders as sexual energy leaks from his glands without mercy.

he knows this is the final round, so he doesn't waste any more time. he's crawling between your spread legs, leaning down to kiss a knee before hovering over you in his favorite, highly intimate position - missionary.

"just this last time, wanted you to be whiny n nice." he's speaking more to himself than to you, but you find a shred of sanity in your head to push out a nod. "there you are. just say my name, baby. it's all I want to hear." he's talking you through it in english, knowing your fucky brain wouldn't be able to translate his comfortable, native japanese. he gets too heady and starts using vowels and honorifics you haven't even heard about.

so when he slides inside of you, completely raw and slick with the pressure of his own need, he's not expecting you to perfectly cry to him in japenese.

"i love you, satoru. so much, satoru. p-please, satoru..."

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ekaterinatepes · 4 months ago

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FALLING IN LOVE WITH SUGAR DADDY GOJO !

previous | series masterlist

sugardaddy!gojo who after your vacation together, realises somethings wrong when he notices a lack of messages from you - even the ones where you’re asking him for money or new clothes.

sugardaddy!gojo who sends you a couple of messages and calls, just to be left on delivered or sent to your voicemail.

sugardaddy!gojo who assumes that you no longer needed him, feeling his heart grow heavy at the thought. but, this was probably for the better, right? his feelings were growing a little too strong for someone who was only meant to be his sugar baby.

sugardaddy!gojo who goes back to his typical life, drowning himself in work and one night stands to try distract himself from the horrible feeling in his stomach every time he saw the colour pink, something that smelt sweet, or something that just completely reminded him of you.

sugardaddy!gojo who you actually miss terribly, but you knew this was for the better. gojo didn’t want any strings attached, so continuing to involve yourself when you knew you were falling catching feelings for him would’ve been a terrible idea.

sugardaddy!gojo who you seem to smell everywhere, a whiff of the familiar scent of his cologne catching your nose whenever you find yourself walking past a rich looking man.

sugardaddy!gojo who you can’t get out of your mind no matter how hard you try, not even caring about the lack of income you now had.

sugardaddy!gojo who you always think about messaging again, just to ask how he’s doing until you realise that he probably didn’t really want anything to do with you after your disrespectful exit.

sugardaddy!gojo who you start to accept that you might’ve actually fallen for him, realising that you started seeing him not as your sugar daddy, but as your boyfriend.

sugardaddy!gojo who can’t get you out of his mind, wondering what it was he might’ve done that made you ghost him like this.

sugardaddy!gojo who tries putting you at the back of his mind, going on dates and sleeping with other women. but, they’re just not you. none of them can even come close to comparing to you.

sugardaddy!gojo who has enough of this, deciding to see you himself as he knocks on the door of your apartment.

sugardaddy!gojo who rolls his eyes at you shocked expression as you open the door, gojo asking if he can come in and talk, that there’s things that definitely need to be said.

sugardaddy!gojo who sits on the small, decorated couch in your living room, asking you why you left him out of the blue, what he did that made you vanish completely from his life.

sugardaddy!gojo who frowns at your response, feeling his heart thump in his chest as he hears you pour your heart out with tears glossing over your eyes when you tell him you have feelings for him, that you couldn’t keep it casual.

sugardaddy!gojo who sits up immediately, standing up to hold you in his arms. he can’t help but feel triumphant despite the tears trickling down your cheeks.

sugardaddy!gojo who says with a breathy laugh, “you’re not the only one who feels like that. i’m pretty sure i’m in love with you.”

sugardaddy!gojo who wipes the tears away from your eyes as you look up at him in confusion, your stomach swarming with butterflies, “what- you are?”

sugardaddy!gojo who nods with a soft smile, pulling you in for a deep but gentle kiss. a reminder that he’s here with you in his arms, that he’s not going anywhere.

sugardaddy!gojo who later that night fucked you so sweetly, his touches gentle and his words sugary sweet as he kissed down your neck and coaxing out pretty moans from you.

sugardaddy!gojo who made sure to say with his chest this time that he loves you as he draws out orgasm after orgasm from you, reminding you that he’s yours <3

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ekaterinatepes · 4 months ago

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Gojo Satoru X Reader

Past Life AU

"When all of this is over," he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his forehead resting against mine. "When Ryomen Sukuna is gone, I'll come back for you. We'll leave all of this behind. We'll live quietly, somewhere far away. We'll grow old together. I'll build us a house by the river. You'll have a garden, and I'll be terrible at tending it, and you'll yell at me when I step on your flowers."

I laughed, soft and breathless. "And children?"

His grin was cocky, beautiful, full of dangerous hope. "As many as you want. I'll learn to cook, too, I swear. I'll probably burn everything, but I'll try."

The world was burning around us- curses breeding in shadows, death whispering at every doorstep- and yet he stood in front of me, promising a life.

He kissed my hand, just once, before walking into the night.

The following days passed in silence.

I tended to my duties in the Gojo estate with trembling hands and a racing heart, waiting for the sound of his voice, the echo of his laugh. But only silence came. Until one evening, a messenger arrived.

"The king of curses has been defeated, the threat has perished." He announced, it should have been a moment of great joy for everyone. I could hear the servants and members of the Gojo clan cheering and sending prayers of gratitude.

It seemed I was the only one who noticed he was not done talking yet. His eyes were downcast, his sleeves soaked in blood- his whole body was.

Why would they send a messenger for this news? Why would they not come back with the news themselves? Why would he not come back?

The tray that I had desperately tried to hold as tightly- steadily- as I could with my trembling hands, clattered on the floor.

The cheering around me stopped at the sound and the people around me turned my way.

"What do you think you're doing, girl?" An elder sneered my way.

But, my eyes were only fixated at the messenger- who was still not meeting anyones gaze.

"Why did they send you to deliver the news?" I almost whispered, but it was the next whisper that caught everyones attention. "Where is Gojo-Sama?"

"He- with the help of other sorcerers- managed to destroy the King of Curses-" the messenger trembled under the heavy weight of our attention.

"You already said that!" The same elder snapped.

"Unfortunately, it came at the cost of his life."

My knees hit the floor.

The world tilted.

Blurred.

My heartbeat faltered, then ceased altogether.

They said it was heartbreak.

A clean, swift death.

I gasped awake.

The ceiling above me was familiar, a rustic beige, that coloured more orange-like when lit by the morning sunlight bleeding through curtains. My chest heaved as though something enormous had been sleeping inside me and had just awoken.

Tears blurred my vision. Not from fear from the nightmare I had just woken up from- but from a grief I couldn’t place.

A name echoed in my head.

A name I didn’t know, yet felt like it had been carved into my soul.

Come find me.

A voice. In my mind. In my bones.

I robotically sat up, not thinking, just moving. My legs carried me to the door, out into the city, through streets I barely registered. There was only one thing I knew: I had to go to the woods.

I didn’t know why.

Only that something was waiting there

The forest was silent. Light filtered through the trees like gold dust, and the path beneath my feet seemed half-formed, ancient.

Then I saw him.

He stood alone in a clearing, his back to me, white hair catching the sun. The moment stretched unnaturally, like time itself had paused.

Then he turned.

His eyes locked onto mine- a pale, brilliant blue that rooted me in place.

I stumbled back a step.

His breath hitched. "Y/N...?"

That name.

My name.

But not the one I’d grown up with.

He took a step forward, cautious. As though approaching a ghost.

"It’s you," he whispered. "You really came."

I shook my head. "I don’t know you. I don’t understand what’s happening. Why do I keep seeing you in my dreams? Why do I feel like I’ve lost something I never had?"

His face fell. He looked like he’d been gutted.

"You don’t remember."

I could barely breathe. "I see flashes- memories. Of you. You… you died."

He nodded slowly. "A long time ago."

I took a step back. "No. This isn’t real. This is some kind of nightmare- have you..have you been stalking me or something? Drugging me? Trying to make me go crazy so you can take advantage of me?!."

"No! I would never!"he said, his voice low, pained. "They are your memories. Your soul remembers. That’s why you’re here."

"But how? And how do you remember me?"

He looked away, jaw tight. "I didn’t. Not at first. Just dreams. Visions. A feeling I couldn’t explain. Until, a year ago. You walked past me, bumped into me and it was as if something that was laying dormant in ny soul woke up. That's when I started remember you, and I did keep an eye on you from then on."

"Because I’ve been waiting for you to remember."

Silence settled between us.

There were no hugs. No kisses. Just two souls standing on the edge of a truth too big to hold.

And yet...

The wind shifted.

Somewhere deep inside me, I felt it — something ancient stirring. A memory of laughter. Of whispered promises. Of white robes and quiet gardens.

His name bloomed behind my ribs like a long-buried seed finally reaching sunlight.

"Satoru."

His eyes met mine again.

Shining.

Hopeful.

Haunted.

"Y/N."

🌸

English is not my 1st language and I randomly got this idea and wrote it in 20 minutes so, I apologize for the errors it probably has. Feel free to point them out but remain respectful plz.

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ekaterinatepes · 4 months ago

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mdni!! (ﾟωﾟ)

satoru pauses in the middle of when you’re fucking to squeeze his eyes shut and thank whatever higher beings out there that he has a big dick.

because despite literally being born the strongest, he’d be damned if he couldn’t fuck you the way he does. he could handle living without the six eyes and limitless but not being able to fuck you correctly?? he’d rather drop dead on the spot.

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ekaterinatepes · 4 months ago

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ekaterinatepes · 5 months ago

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Perverted things JJK men do (pre-relationship)

Gojo

He stares up at your skirt when you ascend the stairs. It’s too fun to guess what colour your panties are today. Sometimes they’re lace and sometimes they’re comfortable cotton. All of your panties are equal in his eyes — they’re all just so adorable. Some are polka-dots, some are floral, some are solid colours or have fun little puns on them, and if that’s the case then he likes to work those puns into his conversations with you.

Keeping track of your favourites is a past-time of his.

Occasionally, you come into school with panties full of holes. It seems to be a comfort thing for you. Gojo’s not very impressed. He really wants to buy you new ones; he thinks he’s got your taste down pat. How could he though?

To do that he’d have to confess he uses his enhanced vision for inappropriate things. Maybe he’ll just have to get a package of the finest panties the world has to offer ‘mistakenly’ delivered to your place without a return address.

For now, he’ll just have to settle for peering under his blindfold at the frills of your underwear and hope he’ll get to have the pleasure of seeing the cute little bow at the front one day.

Geto

This is something he’ll never admit because he hates himself for it but…

Once in a while, usually when he’s feeling especially pent up and particularly masochistic, he lets you get banged up by a curse either by dodging just in time for you to get the brunt of a hit or by ‘accidentally’ pushing you in the way. Of course he never lets it get too far; he’d exorcise the curse before it could properly harm you.

And you might be wondering why it’s masochism rather than sadism but that’s because he loves and hates patching your beat-up body after. Sure, he could take you to Shoko but he does love wiping the blood off your soft skin. He can peel some layers away, look down at your shirt, and see the curves and slopes of your chest. Or he can push your skirt up just a little to inspect the scratches on your thighs.

What he hates is not being able to use said beat-up body to relieve the tent in his pants. He’s had to learn to be content with watching you limp away, adjusting his cock in the shadows and breathing in the sharp smell of iron on the washcloth in his fist.

Choso

Like a little vampire, he breaks into your home in the dead of night and creeps into your bathroom. But only once a month. Because there’s a special time he anticipates like a child waits for Christmas. Choso loves the smell of your used pads and he suckles the — I’m kidding.

Choso’s actual perverted hobby is pretending to feel ill. Why?

Because you’re so super duper kind that you always let him rest on your lap. The plush of your thighs is wonderful!

Truly one of those humanly pleasures he never knew he’d crave but he does. He also loves when you play with his hair and he whimpers when you tug. It makes him imagine how you’ll grip his pigtails when he’s in between your legs rather on top of them.

He especially loves doing this fraudulent routine after sparring; you’re all sweaty and panting and the sweet but musky scent that’s been brewing at the apex of your thighs is at its strongest. As quietly as possible, he takes long and deep inhales and release murmurs of satisfaction.

You’ve yet to notice and until you do, he’ll never stop his sham.

Toji

Being an assassin has its perks: the pay is great and the learned skills is even greater.

He’s been hooked up with fantastic inconspicuous cameras. To test out his hiding skills, he’s obscured a couple in your home. Okay, more than a couple. There’s at least ten in your bedroom.

Now, don’t judge him too much; he doesn’t spend all day watching you. That’d be crazy. What he does instead is watch you only when he’s bored. That’s reasonable, no?

Whipping his phone out, he watches live footage on his phone. Usually you’re just watching TV, doing chores or napping — you do a lot of that, Christ. But sometimes you do something very, very interesting.

Toji loves when your hand begins wandering. You could be sitting on the sofa gasping at some shitty soap opera and suddenly that hand is groping your tit, flicking a nipple, before it creeps into your panties. Timing his hand with yours, he jerks off at the same pace as you.

He even has ongoing competitions where he arbitrarily decides to cum before or after you. And of course, he has a folder for the best cumshots he opens when you’re sleeping and he really needs to cum.

Nanami

He doesn’t do anything perverted, he’s literally perfect what.

That’s what he wants you to think but no, this man has a repressed side from being a long-time virgin, which you can thank his dumbass emo cut in high school for.

What Nanami likes to do is spill coffee on your clothes. Well, it doesn’t have to be coffee. It could be anything and it has been many things: ink, soup, tea, paint. You name it, he’s spilt it.

He always offers to take your clothes for dry cleaning. You used to argue with him about how nice he is but he insists. It’s the least he could do. Now, you know the drill. So you hand over all your layers, which, much to his dismay, excludes your panties and he rushes away and makes a left instead of a right to his home.

Still, he gets to have enough fun with everything else. He does eventually take your clothes to be cleaned but not before, he brings up an item of clothing, whatever his cock craves that day, to his nose and he drowns his senses with the smell of you.

At his worst, he wraps your pencil skirt around his throbbing cock and jerks it up and down at a loving pace he thinks you’d really enjoy. And when he rips up a shirt or two, he blames it on the careless cleaners who just don’t know how to appreciate fashion.

Sukuna

Hires incompetent people.

It combines two things he likes.

Killing

Being a hero…just for you

They trip and spill tea on your clothes?

Dead.

They bump into you?

Dead.

They don’t know their place and sasses you?

Super dead.

Sometimes they’re more competent than they initially appeared and he has to wait for far too long for them to make a mistake. So… he expedites the process, shall we say.

He’ll push them into you, he whispers foul gossip about your terrible character in their ear, and sometimes, in his thirst for a wrong to be righted, he conjures up an ill-act against you in his delusions— they looked at you in a disrespectful way, they said something about your dress or your hair, and they most certainly were the ones who took your precious hairpin, not him.

The shed blood is for you, like a mural an artist dedicates to their muse. He watches the bodies pile up and one of his four arms finds its way through the complex layers of his clothes, tugging at his heavy balls and imagining its you sucking them into your mouth in gratitude.

If only you knew how kind the King of Curses truly is.

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