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bratbby333 · 2 months

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IM INLOVE WITH UR WORK can u pls do one where gojo and reader fucks on a pool table 🎀🎀🎀

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

“You’re one cocky bastard, ya know that?” You scoffed, eyebrow raised at your white haired boyfriend stood across from you. You watched as he bent at the waist and lined up his turn, expertly shooting another one of his balls into the pocket.

Fuck, he made that one in, too. Only three balls left for Satoru.

“Seems like I can back it up, too, huh?” He smirked as he waltzed around the pool table, joining you on the other side. You turned to face him, the back of your thighs pressed up against the wooden edge of the billiards table, arms overlapped begrudgingly across your chest.

You stared up at him as intimidatingly as you could, rolling your eyes as he stood in front of you and placed his arms on either side of your body, trapping you between him and the table.

He leaned down to meet your glares.

“Ya know, we didn’t have to bet on this game…” he teased, your faces only inches apart now. “Cause…you’re not as good as you said you were, sweetheart,” he chuckled, head nodding toward the green felt.

“We can call the game now and you can take your punishment,” he offered smugly, his hands resting on your hips.

You glanced over your shoulder at the table. Six balls left for me, only three for Satoru. I’m screwed. The game was a wash.

You looked back at him, having accepted defeat, eyes glinting with mischief. You smirked as you casted your pool stick aside and hooked your fingers into his belt loops, tugging at them so his body was flush with yours.

His bright eyes darkened immediately, a cocky smirk twitched at the edge of his lips. You leaned in to kiss him, only for him to pull away as he clicked his tongue against his teeth.

“Uh uh, baby. Need to hear you say it,” he mused, his hands rubbing firm circles into your hips. You frowned at him before breaking his gaze, rolling your eyes again.

His hand found your jawline, gripping it tight as he brought your face back up to look at him.

“Say it.” He taunted, his fingers digging into your cheeks.

You sighed, chest hot with embarrassment and pussy drenched in arousal. A warm rouge emerged on your skin as you eyes traced the details in his face. You swallowed your pride before smiling sweetly.

“Please punish me, Satoru.” You requested, your doe-eyed face peering up at him innocently.

“Mmm..atta girl,” he groaned. In one quick motion, he spun you around so your back was pressed against his chest.

He placed hot, wet kisses on your neck as he undid the buttons to your jeans, sliding them down your legs; just enough for quick access.

His calloused fingers rubbed quick circles against your still-clothed clit, the urgency in his movements making you arch away from him, moaning out at his touch.

His long, slender finger slipped under the elastic of your thong, pulling your panties down to toy with your pussy some more.

“Already so wet for me, huh?” He teased, tracing his fingers through your gushy slit. He pressed one of his fingers against your entrance, dipping in just a bit before pulling out again. He shallowly plunged his digits in and out of you a few times, your whimpers of desperation setting his heart ablaze. He loved making you beg for him.

“‘Toru…p-please. Need you s’bad,” you mewled.

He chuckled deeply at your depravity, his teasing fingers still working into you superficially.

He pushed you down so your chest was pressed against the felted table, thrusting his fingers deep. You gasped at the sudden stretch as your hips dug into the wooden perimeter. His free hand grabbed your wrists and pinned them behind your back. Your pretty cries for him made his dick throb against your thigh.

“Look s’pretty laid out for me like this, princess,” he voiced with lustful admiration. He leaned over you, his bruising grip tight on your wrists, his slender digits kissing your sweet spot.

“F-feels s’good, Toru” you whined, hips gyrating against him. Your slickness trickled out around his fingers, your body desperate for more.

He knew your body better than you did and he reveled in how responsive and vocal you were just for him.

“You're soaked, pretty girl,” he praised. He worked deeper into you before removing his fingers, a trail of arousal gliding down your thigh.

You whined out for him, bucking your hips back in hopes he’d give you more.

You heard the metal clinks of his belt coming undone and the familiar sound of his zipper disengaging. He pulled himself out of his underwear, rubbing his cock against you, lubing his head with your juices.

He released your hands from behind your back, moving to grip your hips, palming at the fat of your ass as he lined himself up, teasing his head against your needy cunt. He thrusted into you roughly, your poor, deprived pussy sucking him in immediately.

A sob broke through your parted lips as pretty tears cascaded down your rosy cheeks, blissful stimulation rocketing through you with every thrust.

He leaned back over you, one hand pressed into the small of your back, the other cupping your throat, lifting your head up. His panting breath danced around the shell of your ear, his deep groans ripping through your fucked out body, pushing you even closer to your sweet release.

“Bad at pool but good at takin’ my cock, huh?” He husked against your neck, laughing as he fucked deeper into you.

He looped his arm underneath yours, bringing your shoulder blades toward one another as he pulled you upright against his chest. You dropped your head down, letting it bounce around aimlessly with every rough thrust.

“Mmm…uh huh—wanna be so g-good fa’ you,” you gasped out, the new angle allowing him to rub against your gummy walls so delectably. He tilted your head back so it rested against his shoulder, suckling roughly at your exposed skin.

“God…you’re fucking milkin’ me,” his words caught in his throat as he felt you clench down on him. “Takin’ your punishment so well,” he groaned into your neck, hungrily nipping at your throat.

He pulled out quickly and spun you around, hoisting you up onto the table. You kicked off your jeans as you laid back, your hair fanned out around you beautifully, arms strewn out. He climbed up after you, his strong arms tugging at your hips as he threw them around his waist. He repositioned himself at your soaked entrance and plunged deep inside once more.

“So fuckin’ pretty like this,” he growled out as he returned to his unrelenting pace inside you.

His large hands fondled at your chest, expertly rolling your budding nipples between his slender fingers. He ducked down to pull one into his mouth, lapping at it greedily. Crude, sinful sounds filled the room as your sloppy cunt sucked him in.

He rubbed furious circles into your throbbing clit, the tip of his cock feverishly fucking into your sweet spot.

“A-ahh…Satoru, I’m—”

“I know baby, I feel it…c’mon. Be good ‘n cum on this dick,” his tip prodded deliciously at your sweet spot as his fingers strummed around your clit in perfect synchronicity.

Your legs locked around his waist, eyes screwed shut as you squealed, clenching down around him as your orgasm clawed its way through your body.

He pumped into you furiously as he chased after his own release. You pressed your palms against his taught abs, hoping he’d give you some semblance of a break as the aftershock of overstimulation bulldozed your trembling frame.

He grasped your wrists in one hand, pushing them over your head as he pinned you to the table. His sapphire eyes drank in the sight of your languished body.

“Uh uh…keep takin’ me baby. You’re doin’ so so good,” he urged, thrusts rough and desperate. “Almost there, mama” he gasped out, his throat constricting around his words to mimic the tightness he felt around his cock.

His thrusts grew sloppy against your gushing cunt, hips stuttering into you as he finally bottomed out, shooting ropes of his milky seed deep into your womb.

The soft whines that fell from his pouted lips could’ve made you cum all over again.

He leaned down, catching your mouth in a sweet, lazy kiss. He pulled away and rested his glistening forehead against yours, the two of you sharing one breath.

“Just so you know...I lost on purpose,” you panted, struggling to regain your breath. You smirked up at him as your dazed eyes flitted around his face. He smiled down at you, brushing strands of your hair out of your face.

“You’re so full of shit.”

author notes: this one flew out of me during a 4am spiral last night...i hope you all enjoyyy ☺︎ biiig thanks to the lovely anon who sent this in xx

my request are open! i answer them randomly but i will eventually get to them! you can send your suggestions here♡

chaptered content is on the way! woohoo!! i will continue to release short form stories as i finish up the chapters.

as always, thank you so so much for engaging with my writing. every comment, like, and reblog is greatly appreciated. i love you all!

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen writing #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #gojo satoru #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x reader smut #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru smut #bratbby333 #gojo x you #anon✨

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ch4mpagnedrought · 10 days

Text

compensation

[full series]

mdni ! art donaldson

summary: you and art cant help but try and compensate for everything you’re missing out on now that tashi and patrick are together.

ever since tashi had suggested a game of tennis for her number and patrick won, its left you and art to roam around the stanford campus like two little lost puppies, begging for their attention when patrick comes to visit tashi.

patrick has made it impossible to get a hold of the girl, her dorm room always locked and her absence in the daily work-outs the two of you usually have made very obvious. not to mention the betrayal art must be feeling, having his best friend be only in the adjacent building to him, but never coming to actually see him.

you’ve had to find ways to preoccupy yourselves, and stop you from going on an angry rampage, like;

hitting racket to ball in the middle of the court, not even bothering to play a real game. “my prof is making me rewrite my whole assignment this week.” you complain, aiming the ball at the green fencing at the sides and watching it bounce back in art’s direction for your own botched version of squash. he laughs loudly, “who knew you were so bad at everything besides tennis.” you shoot him a scowl and his eyes widen, shoulders shrugging unapologetically as he swings his arm once again.

spring fading into summer means that evenings still have a little light in them, and you fight the urge to lie straight down on the tarmac and look up at the greying sky. the light breeze washes through art’s strawberry blonde hair, swaying it to the side to expose his brows that furrow when you let the ball bounce away between your legs, looking at him with a tense expression. the thought that tashi and patrick were somewhere doing god knows what (you knew what) and completely ignoring you made a reappearance in your head suddenly, and it boiled your blood. “ugh! im gonna kill them!” you huff out, grabbing the ball from the ground and stomping to where you left your stuff. art’s arm finding the both of your shoulders, “ditto that.”

having lunch at the food hall together: waiting in line for the same exact salad that you get every day, curtesy of your game-preparation meal plan and taking a seat on the bar stools that overlook the rest of the campus. stabbing your fork into the frail pieces of lettuce in your plastic bowl, art taking another bite of his churro in silence and licking away all the rouge sugar particles from his lips. “you know, patrick didn’t even bother to call me about his visit.” art says, taking off his red baseball cap just to put it back on his head again. “what a dog.” you scoff, shaking your head and taking a sip of your smoothie that tastes a little grainy from the protein powder. you would’ve continued to rant if you hadn’t spotted tashi and patrick walking hand-in-hand in the distance, all smiles and giggles; it makes you sick. “look.” you point it out to art and he mocks patrick in a high-pitched voice, “hey tashi aren’t i so cool? i play pro and i’m totally not cheating on you.” you chuckle, leaning over to snag a bite of his churro.

and confiding in each other in art’s dorm late at night, when the haunting noises coming from the other side of your wall get too much.

his room is surprisingly so…boyish. a couple posters of tennis stars on the walls that seem so out of place, like he put them there for the sole purpose of taking up space. his medals are hung up on the corner of his wardrobe, tinkering on the edge and there is an unidentified pile of clothing in the corner.

his sheets are a deep maroon colour and you lie flat across them, both of your heads leaning on the single flat pillow he owns, legs crossed. his ceiling has remnants of a water leak the university tried to paint over and you study it from below. “i wonder what they’re doing right now.” art hums, putting his hands behind his head, and letting you rest your head on his bicep.

you shoot up, glancing down at him, one brow lifted and eyes narrow, “i can tell you exactly what they’re doing right now,” you say, scrambling up onto your knees, “’patrick i need your racket right now!’’’ you moan tauntingly, rolling your eyes back and crossing your arms over your chest. art cackles, stomach contracting and grabbing onto your shoulder for support. his hand is pumping warm with blood, hovering over your skin for longer than socially acceptable, and his fingers caressed by the long strands of your curly hair that fall at your sides.

running over to his room meant that you hadn’t had enough time to grab a change of clothes to sleep in, so he graciously lent you one of his t-shirts, a navy one with white embroidered writing that you hadn’t bothered to read, which prods at the aching in his head to see you without it.

“when was the last time you slept with someone?” your question catches art off guard, lying back down next to him and watching the blush creep up onto his cheeks, eyes darting away somewhere to think of an answer. “oh come on, was it that unforgettable?” you laugh. he knew when exactly when the last time was, but the thought that him sleeping with someone had crossed your mind, putting the idea of the two of you together into his own had clouded his head, making it unbearably difficult to think, or speak.

“maybe last month” art estimates when the last time he saw the girl in one of his classes that he casually slept with from time to time, your expression remaining unchanged, which whirls something inside of his stomach. you nod, smile spreading across your lips, and eyes glancing down to art’s partially parted ones. art adjusts himself, propping his head up with his hand and looking down at you, “when was the last time that you slept with someone?”

its unclear to him whether you're joking with your response. “ask me that tomorrow.” it spins his head until he sees double, having to shut his eyes for a second to regain consciousness. your nonchalant smile quite frankly irks him, because you seem so unaware of how he is sliding the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip, preparing just incase you decide that you want to kiss him. or the fact that he moved his leg upwards along the bed to cover his raging boner at just the mere idea of you and him together.

the shirt he lends you rides up on your hips, obviously showing off the black panties that you’re wearing and the neck-line hangs low enough to show the indent of your collarbone that he imagines licking a stripe over.

you thrum, looking up at art through dark eyelashes, “isn’t it so unfair how tashi and patrick can ignore us just to get at each other?”

he got the hint, every crumb you’ve put down he’s followed and scooped up all in one go, sighing out a weak, “yeah” that sounds more like a whine, and leaning down to kiss you on the lips.

the taste of your lip gloss he had missed sweetens his mouth immediately and the faint smell of a chocolatey lotion on your skin sends him into complete overdrive, left hand desperately reaching for the side of your face to take you deeper into him. he sinks himself down, pressing his chest into yours and disconnecting his lips to breathe out a groan at the sensation of your boobs against him like a boy who's never felt them before.

his face is burning hot, lips even hotter as they move simultaneously with yours, covering the perimeter of your mouth with long and drawn out movements to fully get the taste of you hes been dreaming of ever since that hotel room. his hands roam down to the curvature of your waist, taking a strong grip to it to make sure his fingerprints forever remember it, then down to your hips, kneading the flesh.

with him over you, he pulls away from your arms that are wrapped around his neck, pulling the hem of his shirt to unveil your midriff and the black lace that frames your lower waist, your thighs pressed together to catch the heat that he manifests within you, “oh my god.” it might just be the lewdest sight he has ever seen, along with your swollen lips that are glistening with his saliva.

he can barely keep away the moans that try to escape his mouth when he lowers himself down to you, eager lips pressing into your hip, lapping at the surface of your skin with a desperation only art could have, along the hem of your panties, and back up your stomach while your fingers entangle with his blonde locks.

your pulse quickens, exhaling his name out when his finger pulls your underwear to the side, letting the air hit your leaking core, a smile playing at art’s lips. “please, please art.” you moan out, squeezing your eyes shut and letting the sensation of one of his digits swiping through your folds overcome you.

he nibbles at your inner thighs, soft licks soothing the area as one of his fingers slides inside you, while the other gropes at your breast through your shirt. his mind is completely consumed by you, watching every change in your expression with his fingers pumping in and out of you, flush on your face and brows knitting every time he draws back.

your legs instinctively move over his shoulders, trapping him around you to continue the motion and giving him the chance to tilt his head to the side, pressing a kiss to the thigh that is thrown over him. “is this okay?” he asks, caressing a hand down your calf and watching the way your hand reaches out to grab him by the wrist.

“lie down art” you keen, his eyes narrow and he pulls back with a sense of confusion that is overrode with your impatience, ushering him below you. so he does, leaning against the headboard whilst you throw yourself onto his hips, his jaw tilting upwards to unconsciously fulfil the want of his lips devouring the whole of your figure.

the shirt he lent you doesn’t last long, ending up in the pile on his floor and letting him ravish in the sight of your bare torso. he gasps out your name, wandering hands reaching out to massage your breast, flesh filling out the gaps between all five of his fingers. “take this off” you strangle out, gesturing to the shirt he is wearing, disheveled hair falling back into his face that burns hot when you let your eyes roam down to his abdomen. even the weight of your ass pressing into his dick through his shorts is teetering him to climax, hands not knowing where to put themselves when he wants to grab a hold of all of you.

your fingers wrap around the waistband of his shorts that he is wearing, pulling down his boxers at the same time and freeing his erection to slap back onto his stomach, recalling something patrick said about the time he taught art to jerk off. the palm of your hand ghosts his cock, restraining yourself from taking it into your hands there and then, “can i?” even the way you sigh out the question has the hairs on art’s arms standing up and mouth swallowing saliva in anticipation. “yes, yes.” he whines, brows furrowing up at you and all of his muscles tensing.

with a gentle touch, he guides you above him, his hands at your sides as you spread yourself open for him, sinking down only to the tip before he grabs your waist and pauses in the position. he looks like a little helpless, bottom lip between his teeth and an alarmed look in his face that says if you go any further he’ll come right now. “i’ll go slow,” you whisper, a small smirk on your face that’s hard to resist when his shimmering eyes try to find the last slither of dignity within him, “i promise.” you smile reassuringly and he glances away, the flush in his cheeks getting a little deeper.

you keep your promise, slowly lowering yourself down onto him, goosebumps fevering your skin and palms laying flat across his abdomen to steady yourself.

taking him in completely, you whimper out his name and his hands journey to graze your back, up to your shoulder blades where he presses them into you to pull you into him, mouth suctioning down the valley of your breasts. his moans vibrate back into your skin when you pull back up from him, stimulating every single nerve ending in his length like it never has before. you set a pace, slow and steady for art, snapping your hips down onto his in a way that knocks the wind out of you each time, gasping for air. he keeps you close to him, rolling his hips to meet you in the middle and put some of that athlete stamina to use and murmuring your name with every movement.

his finger moves your hair from your shoulder, so he can press soft pecks onto the surface, whilst you clutch the wooden headboard, growing impatient and consequently pounding him into you. his moans purr into your ear, grabbing onto your ass to keep you still as he thrusts himself into you from below and shakily calling out an, “im gonna come.”

you nod, clasping around his biceps and leaning down to nip at his neck, losing composure the more your walls contract around him. you ignore the muscles in your legs that ache and your lungs that can’t seem get a hold of the air that is shared between you to continue to mercilessly plunge him deeper into you until it feels like you’re melting into one another, a shudder sending itself down your bare back and deepening the heat that builds in your core.

art is panting, popping your tit into his mouth one last time before falling still, twitching inside of you and releasing all of his seed into you until it overflows from below. your name echoes out of his mouth, whimpering and whining it out until he can open his eyes back up and centre his vision on you burning every last bit of energy to bounce on his dick.

you lean forward onto him, eyes rolling back into your head when reaching your climax and pressing your burning cheek against his face to feel all of him. he brushes his hand down your back comfortingly, you heaving into the crevice of his neck that glistens with sweat and feeling your walls contract around him the last couple times.

art sighs your name out, pressing his lips into your cheek and letting a smile spread across his face when you brush the dampened hair out of his forehead to get a better view of his eyes.

your body feels limp, falling back down next to him with a post-sex fatigue that follows you all the way into the next morning, where you sit at a table in the food hall, thanking art for bringing you some breakfast and trying to ignore the echoing of all the noises he made last night in your head.

“fuck i really need to work on that assignment today” you groan, taking a bite into a slice of honeydew with your head in the palm of your hand. art watches and nods, a false portrayal of an active listener when what he’s really focusing on is the way your lips curl around the slice, biting off a chunk and closing your lips around it in a way that makes him reminisce that he was right there too only a couple hours ago. “i can help.” he offers, truly from the kindness of his heart that kindly wants to spend the rest of his life looking at you.

“you wish.” you scoff, “i’m not allowed to be alone in a room with you anymore.”

art takes a swig of his water to hide the grin that spreads on his face, and when he makes eye contact with a random student from across the hall he feels like they heard that too. he wishes they could hear, and know that you, the best tennis player stanford has probably ever had, are having to physically restrain yourself from him.

“what are you smiling about?” the familiar voice of patrick calls out from a few strides away, in a pair of indigo levis and a white tee, grabbing onto arts shoulders and lowering himself down to his level to grab his chin playfully. art swats him away immediately, pushing patrick down into a chair. and tashi grazes your shoulders softly with her hand when taking a seat next to you and stealing a piece of your fruit from your bowl, “good morning.”

“morning.” you sigh out, taking a sip of your tea and hoping that it isn’t totally obvious that you slept with your friend. but tashi takes notice of the slight frizz in your hair, a dishevelled-ness that is never usually there, so it wasn’t her intention to call you out in front of the four of you when she asks, “why do you look hungover?” she even moves a piece of your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear to get a better look at the colour under your eyes. your brows furrow, eyes glancing to the left of you at the two boys whose expressions couldn’t be anymore different. art’s poker face is awful, he’s trying to keep his face composed but his posture slumps under the weight of patrick’s hand that spreads across over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk.

you shrug nonchalantly, taking another bite of your breakfast to act like your lungs aren’t constricting and you aren’t going into fight or flight, “late night i guess.”

theres a moment of silence, everyone in their heads peacefully while you wish you could get into art’s and find out what he’s thinking about your pathetic lie.

“nice shirt.” patrick says.

“thanks." you reply, swiping over the embroidered ‘mark rebellat tennis academy’ with a finger and looking up at patrick, who meets your eyes with a knowing smirk that makes you feel silly for not assuming that patrick would have memorised art’s whole closet, or recognise the school they went to.

and when patrick squeezes art’s shoulder and asks whether he is “up for a game?” you suddenly become hyper aware of how much his gaze slips past art’s eyes and down onto you as they stand up from the table, eyes squinting and a stupid smile on his face. the combination is so piercing you’ve become aware that even if tashi believed your lie, and art thinks he’s got away scott free—he knows, and he’s letting you know.

his hand ruffles the hair on art’s head, arm falling over his shoulders and drawing him into himself, “we have a bunch of catching up to do, art.” he keeps art close to him as they walk away towards the tennis courts, leaning in to whisper something into his ear after the both of them briefly turned around to wave you and tashi goodbye.

tashi seems unphased by their behaviour, continuing to braid a small of piece of your hair that she unconsciously started. “you know patrick’s about to tell art all about your get together.” you chuckle and tashi scoffs, leaning back into her chair, “he wouldn’t say anything” she reassures, “also we didn’t even do anything.” she adds in quickly, stealing another piece of watermelon from your bowl and taking a bite to avoid talking about the topic like you hadn’t just done that. you smile at her, and she widens her eyes to let you know that she’ll tell you all about last night later.

“i wouldn’t be so sure.” you shake your head, stealing back the half-bitten melon from in between her fingers and finishing it off.

#art donaldson #challengers x reader #art donaldson smut #challengers x you #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson fic #art donaldson x you #patrick zweig x reader #tashi duncan x reader #challengers

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