#septembersummerao3

[septembersummer]

warmth

!! 18+ only; minors DNI !!

summary: Nanami is an alpha, and he's the very best at self restraint. You're an omega, and you need someone to look after you while you're in heat. I wonder what could go wrong here.

pairing: nanami x you

word count: 3.5k

cw: omegaverse, alphas, omegas, going into heat, triggering ruts, degradation, rough s*x

an's: my first ever nanami fic where he actually gets justice. he deserves this for real

links: wheel of fortune (ao3)

my long fics are all posted on ao3, so if you like my writing pls support me there :)

Nanami is not a cold man.

He might seem like it on the outside, because he has too much going on inside of his head to really show his warmth to other people, not that there was much warmth there to start with. But it is there.

For example, you know that he’s much more empathetic than Gojo, who tries his best, but it doesn’t come naturally to him the way that it comes to Nanami. Most of the people in this job become cold and brittle with time, as the deaths of their friends and the grim existence of curses eat away at their warmth until there’s nothing left but a husk. Cold, brittle, alone.

And Nanami, despite how hard he might try to convince you otherwise, is not cold nor brittle. That’s why you chose him to watch over you during this upcoming… sensitive time.

It happens every month or so, yours aren’t as regular as other omegas you know. Yours tends to hit you hard and fast, and it isn’t as predictable as your friends’ heats. Last month, for example, you were in the middle of a mission out in the field when you felt the familiar creeping of warmth up the back of your spine. It lingers in the pit of your stomach, ignites your skin inch by inch. Slowly, surely, it overtakes you– once a month, every month. Rinse and repeat. You go from a dignified woman who does an incredibly dangerous job which requires excellent physical prowess and mental stability to a mind-broken, lustful creature that wants nothing more than to gather all of her favorite things in her bed and get fucked until it’s over.

You want to mate. Like an animal.

It’s always made you sick. You’re one of the omegas who desperately wishes she were born an alpha, or even a beta. Alphas are easily tempted and often over-indulgent when they smell an omega, but at least they can live without fear of being taken advantage of when their rut hits. There’s no instances of omegas assaulting alphas when they’re in rut.

Beta would probably be best, though. No heat, no rut, no urges to be bred like a wild beast or to breed like a wild beast. They live life simply and quietly, and they marry each other with ease.

Alas, you are no alpha, and you are no beta, which is why you lay in bed this evening with four blankets, six pillows, three sweatshirts, and two pairs of sweatpants. The numbers are precise and exact, no more and no less. You’ve arranged them three times, you’ll do it again.

The heat is tingling at the base of your neck already. You move to wipe a bit of sweat that’s just starting to gather at your brow, and you know that you’re starting to smell. You’ve heard that the smell of an omega who’s about to go into heat is sickly sweet, saccharine, like fresh peaches or cotton candy or cinnamon rolls.

You know that Gojo often sees an omega who smells a lot like milk chocolate and espresso when she goes into heat.

“Her pussy tastes sorta like whipped cream– drives me crazy–”

“You’re so fucking gross.” Nanami snickered when you said that a few days ago, which led you into the conversation about heats and ruts that led into another conversation, which led you here, locked in your bedroom with all of your favorite things, while Nanami keeps watch outside for the next few days.

He’s a man of great self-restraint, and he’s never taken an omega, by his own choice to do so. It’s probably because the job wouldn’t allow him to take a mate without incurring serious risk to the relationship. Alphas and omegas mate for life– he’s too responsible to risk that when he has a job with a fifty-something percent death rate.

The looming threat of death and despair doesn’t keep your heightening senses from picking up on his scent as it just barely wafts beneath the doorway to your bedroom, though. He smells masculine, sort of like eucalyptus and pine, woodsy and grounding. You knew that the scent of an alpha would drive you crazy at a time like this.

Dealing with that issue, however, is better than the alternative. When you’re in the thick of it, you’ll want any alpha. You’ll want them so fucking desperately that you’d claw the door down to get to one– anyone would do, anyone. Even terrible Gojo, who would fuck you through it and purposefully not mark you because he doesn’t want to mate.

Nanami, a man of some warmth and fantastic self-control won’t let you claw your way through the door and fuck the first alpha you smell, or the first that smells you. He’ll keep you safe, protect you, and he won’t burst through your bedroom door to bite you and breed you like an animal. He’s not an animal, he’s a gentleman, and he cares about you.

You think about the sort of protector that he is, you take several sets of deep breaths from your spot underneath the blankets in the center of your bed, and you clench your thighs together hard. He is protective, isn’t he? He’s taking care of you now, even though your scent must be driving him crazy out there. He’d take good care of you in the future, he’d take good care of you and the little blonde babies that he fucks into your wet cunt when you’re–

“Are you alright?” A voice startles you.

You can hear it through the rather thin piece of wood that separates you from the six foot tall alpha that stands on the other side of it.

“Y-Yeah,” you reply, shifting beneath the covers to fight the urge to slip your hand into the waistband of the sweats you’re wearing.

You’ll have to take them off soon. It’s becoming unbearable to be clothed, and it will only get worse as this progresses.

“Your scent changed,” he remarks, and you notice that his voice has taken on a thicker, more husky timbre tonight than it usually has, “are you afraid?”

He always speaks lowly with a hint of the rasp he’s gained from smoking cigarettes all these years. His voice never sounds bad, but tonight it’s…

You shiver, and you can hardly fight the urge to touch yourself anymore.

“Afraid of what?” You ask, moving to take your sweatpants off.

Your shirt goes with it, over your head and thrown into the floor where it belongs. It doesn’t have the right scent, nothing here does. You want something more masculine, something darker that you can bury your face into when you’re biting down on the sheets later trying to soothe the itch between your legs.

“Of me,” he replies, and the doorknob makes a soft clicking sound, as though he’s resting his hand on it while he talks to you.

It’s locked, because alphas are not bulletproof, not even self-controlled, quiet, kind Nanami. Instincts are one hell of a drug, and everyone is susceptible.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you respond, noticing that your own voice has taken on a more whiny, desperate tinge when you speak.

Normally you’re so controlled, standing tall and proud, but you’re reduced now. You’ll only be reduced further into the puddle of slick that you’re quickly becoming.

“Nanami?” You whimper out, before biting your lip and trying to control the sound of your breaths. They fall faster when you remember that there’s an alpha right there who could help you, who could make you feel better.

“Yes?” He responds.

The doorknob clicks again, you release a breathy moan at the mere prospect of him coming inside.

He won’t, he swore it. Even if you plead or cry, even if you get on your hands and knees at his feet and beg him to breed you, he won’t. He gave his word a week ago.

He’s never broken a promise, it’s a true sign of his empathetic nature. It won’t do you any good to go out and beg, but the urge grows with each breath.

“Can you give me one of your shirts?” You ask, negotiating with your desire, now fully naked and sinking deeper into the blankets that smell all wrong, so wrong.

There’s nothing right here. No amount of rearranging will fix what’s broken.

“I can’t open the door,” he says, and you can hear that his breaths are falling faster, too.

“Please,” you plead quietly, “just one–”

“I’m not opening the fucking door,” he responds roughly and harshly all at once, lashing out at you because his self-control is waning, it seems.

“Take your sleeping pills. Now.”

You’re stiff and still in the spot that you lay after hearing that command. The you that exists outside of your heat would’ve not responded well to such a harshly given demand, but she is no longer here with you. So, you do as told, and you take the pills that will hopefully help you sleep through the night.

If you aren’t getting fucked, you’ll need to sleep and drink water. You won’t have an appetite for food, but your body needs to rest as much as it can to recover from the energy that’s going into putting out pheromones for your mate. You know it, and you recite it to yourself, trying to hold onto what little sanity there is left.

They take effect after a few minutes, thankfully, but your body feels burning hot to the touch now, and you’re touching it more than you should. You fall asleep with your hand between your thighs, with slick dripping onto the mattress as you pump your fingers inside yourself over and over against your g-spot. Even if your sleep, you’re still pumping just faintly.

Nanami isn’t a cold man.

In fact, he’s fucking burning alive.

Standing outside your bedroom door, he can tell by your scent that you’ve fallen asleep now. He hasn’t moved since he last gave you the command to take your medicine, for fear of what his own body would do if he did.

Instead, he’s standing there with his fist clenched so hard around the feeble little door handle that he fears he might break it if his fingers tighten even slightly more than they are. He stares at his white knuckles, and he takes a deep breath that only makes this worse.

He swore to protect you while you’re going through this, but goddammit he wants to kick this too thin door down and fuck into you until you break.

Your scent is sweet, but not so sickly sweet that it disgusts Nanami. He’s been around omegas when they’re near their heat, and frankly he’s never been very tempted by them. The scent of slick has always been so sickeningly saccharine that it’s only disinterested and annoyed him. His vague indifference to the scent of omegas is the reason that he agreed to keep watch over you through your heat this month.

He didn’t know it would be like this. The others, they aren’t compelling nor particularly arousing to Nanami. He’s been lucky throughout his adulthood as an alpha to not be tempted by scents and flavors in the way that other alphas he knows are indulgent.

You, however…

Oh, you do smell sweet, but you smell soft and airy. Like warm vanilla with just a hint of citrus. It’s a natural musk, so it’s not like perfume or confections, but a combination of your natural pheromones and the ambrosial lure of your heat.

It’s still the first day, and he’s never felt so compelled to break through a door or a fucking wall to get to anything before.

For the first time in his life, he’s feeling something other than vague indifference shrouded by duty.

For the first time in his life, Nanami wants something . Desperately, painfully, he wants you, needs you.

He owns you. You wouldn’t have called him here if he didn’t, right? You wouldn’t have called him to protect you if you didn’t subconsciously know that you’re his omega, that you need him to take care of you, to keep you safe. He’s the only one that you trust to keep you safe during your heat.

You know that you’re his. You must.

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, gripping the door handle harder now. Gripping harder, turning it even though the lock protests, trying to open it.

He swore that he wouldn’t do this. He promised. He never breaks a promise.

The door handle won’t budge

He just wants to see that you’re alright. That makes sense. He needs to protect you, he’s here to protect you. How can he keep you safe if he can’t even see you?

Or touch you.

The lock is tougher than it looks. It’s starting to make a screeching sound.

He can’t protect you if he can’t touch you.

Or fuck you.

Breed you.

Bite the little scent spot on your throat, show everyone that you chose him to protect you. Him, not Gojo, not a trusted friend. You made your choice. Everyone should see it, smell him on you, see the way that your stomach grows rounder when he impregnates you tonight.

It’s just about to break, his forearm clenches hard as he turns the lock almost past the point of no return. Soon, you’ll be his. You aren’t yet, but soon. Soon, the whole world will know what you’ve decided, what he’s decided.

He’s so focused on breaking the stupid, stupid little knob, that he doesn’t even notice when it unlocks on its own. His eyes have to adjust to the dark when the door opens easily, and he stumbles forward a step.

He stumbles forward, landing inches from you. His hand rests on your forearm, a subconscious movement to keep you from falling. His omega, no one else’s. He can’t let you get hurt.

If he weren’t forcibly going into his rut tonight, he’d feel your skin and know that you have a fever, but he has one, too.

If anything, you feel cold to the touch tonight, because Nanami is nothing frozen nor brittle, he’s burning magma against your skin when he pulls you into his arms, when his lips collide with yours in a kiss that’s barely a kiss, and more an angry meeting of tongue and teeth.

Animals don’t need to exchange words when they’re going to mate, and neither do the two of you. That’s all you are– animals when you break the buttons on his shirt apart to lick and kiss at his chest, his stomach, and animals again when he unfastens his belt and throws it across the room, and your feeble, cold fingers undo the buttons and zipper of his pants to tug them down.

“Spread your fucking legs,” he growls, as he crawls overtop of you, doing the movement for you with his large, calloused hands when you aren’t fast enough for him.

His cock aches and burns where its pressed against his stomach, leaking precum onto his skin that he’ll fuck into you soon enough.

“Please, please, please–” you beg, shivering and shaking beneath him as he thrusts two fingers into your pussy.“More,” he murmurs, as his dark eyes look into yours in the darkness.

Your scent is flooding his senses, his psyche. There are no coherent thoughts left in him, and none left in you. There’s nothing in the world tonight but two fingers much larger than yours pumping and thrusting inside of you, and the feeling of euphoria that’s almost good enough cascading over your shaking form like a tidal wave.

“Please, more, please– want your cock, need your cock, fuck– Nanami, please–” you moan, dragging your fingernails down his back in anticipation.

“Gonna mark you, gonna– fuck–” Nanami hisses and spasms, thrusting inside of your drenched cunt in one go.

He cums right then and there, with his first hard thrust into you. It throbs inside of you as you lock your legs around his hips to drag him deeper, further in. His teeth bite down on your shoulder, not quite marking you yet, but soon.

He pulls half out, the slickness of you is already spread along his stomach, and he’d like to bathe in it tonight. His cum starts to drip out of you, but it’s stopped when he thrusts inside again, again, again.

His teeth sink into your skin wherever they land, his hands grip your thighs so hard that they’ll leave bruises, there are no thoughts left in his mind other than fuck, and breed.

“You’re my omega,” he breathes against the bruise he’s just made with his teeth, “fuck, mine.”

He shivers in delight and relief. No one else can fuck you now. His scent is all over you, his seed is inside you. The primal part of his brain that needs to possess you isn’t anxious anymore, you’re where you belong.

You are his, every inch of your burning skin that meets his, and every inch that doesn’t. He lifts you up by your hips, holding your body weight up with his muscular forearms with ease to get a better angle to just fuck you in. The only sounds in the room are those of skin meeting skin, and your cries of yes and please and more and cum inside me.

He does just that, every single cry that you make is answered by his hips moving in tandem with yours. You’re cumming as often as you’re breathing, shivering, shaking, and panting beneath him, as he can’t decide whether to watch the swell of your tits bounce with the intensity of his thrusts, or the spot where your bodies are meeting.

Vanilla, citrus, and you– that’s all there is. He throws your ankles on top of his shoulders, bearing his weight down on top of your smaller body so that he can kiss you while he slams into you. “Na- na - mi–”

You cry out his name again and again like a mantra or a prayer. It is the best sound that’s ever graced his eardrums, he’s certain when he’s this deep inside of you that there’s no sweeter scent nor sound that could compare to yours.

He’ll take good care of you, he thinks about it when he moves inside of you, starting to draw close to release again. He feels the throbbing of blood moving absolutely nowhere but to his cock as he drives it inside of you, twitching and fucking his cum back into you before it can drip down between your asscheeks and stain the sheets even worse than they already are.

He won’t let you out of this mating press until the sun blots out and he dies, or until he fucks a baby so deep into you that you can’t remove it, can’t deny that it’s his and no one else’s. He needs to mark you, he’s fucking you but he needs to mark you.

He bites your lower lip when you continue to kiss him, before diving down to your neck while you’re screaming his name, and an orgasm washes over you. Your inner muscles tighten and constrict around him, and he presses more of his weight onto you until it must be hard to breathe. You’re tightening around him, sucking him into your pussy.

He can’t fight his urges, he can’t fight the burning heat within him for a second longer. His teeth sink into your throat right where your pheromones would come from, and you screech either from pain or pleasure, he doesn’t know.

He’s cumming inside of you again, biting harder when you try to move beneath him, causing a whimper of pain to erupt from you. Nanami tastes your body in his mouth while he gives you short, hard thrusts that bury his seed inside and keep it there.

He breathes a sigh of relief with his teeth still buried in your skin, holding your body up even higher at an angle so that his cum can’t escape you. You’re finally his, he doesn’t have to be cold and brittle, he can let his burning warmth seep into your body and stay there, and then he can breed you just like this again and again.

Everything is better here in his arms. You’re happy, safe, warm, marked by your mate. Nanami sleeps soundly next to you, and he deserves it after the three days he’s been awake in his claiming of you.

With your ass pressed against his abdomen, he’s still buried inside of you, still hard even in his sleep. He doesn’t mind the mess of cum that’s between both of your legs, and neither do you. His strong arms are wrapped around your waist, and your body is just starting to cool down.

When your sanity returns fully, maybe you’ll regret it. Maybe you’ll wish you hadn’t stumbled forward to your door in a haze of lust and desire. The stinging set of teeth marks on your neck and shoulders feel like marks of pride this morning, but you aren’t so sure about tomorrow.

You don’t have much time to think about it, as your mate thrusts into you from behind again, feverish and burning, ready for more.

[hijiki-heichou]

Fanart of Vamp!Gojo from SeptemberSummer's fic Winter on ao3.❤ 

[septembersummer]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝔹𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕕𝕗𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝔾𝕒𝕞𝕖

!! 18+ ONLY; MINORS DNI !!

Summary: Gojo asks you to play a little game. It involves you, four men, and one blindfold. What's the worst that could happen?

pairings: gojo x geto x toji x nanami x you (all at once)

wc: 10k~

cw: fivesome, blindfolding, knife play, impact play, restraints, double pen., competitive men, rough s*x, breeding, ORGIES A/n's: this is my filthiest work to date. tumblr, pls dont ban me.

Link: the blindfold game ao3

No one else could’ve come up with this plan but Satoru. Suguru might’ve thought about it, but he wouldn’t have come out and actually asked you. He’s a bit more tactful than his best friend in that sense, if not just as depraved.

Toji agreeing to it was somewhat surprising, but not after you remembered that Toji is really up for anything at the end of the day. He’s a lot like Satoru in that he can’t stay still, he values an adrenaline rush above all else. It’s the reason that he got into gambling, horse races, drinking, etc.

Most shocking, most surprising, is that Nanami agreed to it. The rest are predictable in their own ways, but you have absolutely no idea as to why Nanami would ever agree to a plan like this. He’s vaguely disgusted by everyone involved, not barring you, because you have a bad habit of hanging around Gojo and Suguru when you’re working (mostly Suguru, because there’s a part of you that can’t stand Gojo, and you’ve never been quiet about it).

And you agreed to it because… well… you’re not a cat, so curiosity can’t kill you that hard.

“Your part is easy,” Gojo says casually, as you’re standing by the vending machines at the school, “you get blindfolded, you get fucked, you try to guess who’s doing it–”

You spit out your drink at the second part, but he only smiles in response. You get the feeling that whenever Gojo smirks at you like that, there’s always something darker lurking beneath it. It’s just beneath the surface, right where you can sort of see it if you squint, and none of his students have ever noticed it.

“And they all agreed to this?” You ask, wearing an expression of genuine shock and concern.

“Yep,” he replies easily, taking a sip of a grape soda.

“No way.” It took Satoru showing you multiple texts from all parties before you believed him. After all, Satoru loves pranks, and he loves it especially when you’re involved. He always says your reactions are cute, while Suguru chuckles softly and equally deviously somewhere behind him.

If you could miss the darkness underneath Satoru’s mask of airheaded mockery, you could never miss Suguru’s. Those dark eyes give him away every single time, but he’s comforting and soothing in a way that Satoru is not.

Maybe he’ll be that way when all of this happens? You’d like to hope so, but you’re fairly certain that the deviousness within him might take the reins more so than that kindness.

“Fuck it,” you say, swallowing hard after a few moments of deliberation, “let’s do it.”

Satoru smiles, but it looks hungrier than it should, “That’s the spirit.”

Nanami is, predictably, the first to arrive at your house, where all of this is meant to happen tonight. You get paid well as a sorcerer, but it’s still modest compared to Gojo’s place.

“Welcome,” you say sheepishly, as you confront the sight of the tall sorcerer at your doorstep.

Nanami looks exhausted, with dark circles beneath his eyes, as if he’s just had a particularly rough day at work. His tie is already loosened just a touch, signaling to you that he’s either been nervously pulling at it, or he’s been excited for this. You really don’t know which one.

“I-I got drinks and stuff,” you say, looking at the island that separates your living room from your kitchen, “if you… wanted anything.”

Nanami gives you a strange look that’s similar to a glare, as if to ask why did you buy snacks for an orgy? That’s a really weird thing to do.That’s precisely the look you were nervous about receiving, but it’s not the only thing you’re nervous about receiving tonight– for obvious reasons.

“Why did you agree to this?” He asks, taking a beer from your countertop and easily popping it open.

His hands are so big, rough, calloused. You wonder how they’ll feel on your body, but you have to stop yourself from getting too worked up too quickly.

“I could ask you the same,” you respond somewhat nervously from the other side of the island.

His glare never falters, he never cracks a smile. For some reason, it’s making your blood rush more than it normally would tonight. You follow his lead and down your glass of wine, feeling less sane than ever, with cheeks that feel hot to the touch.

“It’s deplorable,” he says, “be thankful that you didn’t have to hear what Gojo said he wanted to do to you.”

You cock your head to the side, “And yet you’re here, too.”

He returns your confused glance with a steely gaze, “Someone needs to make sure that you’re safe.”

You’d be inclined to believe him, but his dark eyes look just as hungry as Gojo’s.

The next to arrive is Suguru, along with Gojo who walked in a few minutes later. It’s laughable that he’s late, given that he can teleport. Suguru and Nanami get along sometimes, when Suguru isn’t fucking around with Gojo, so they naturally gravitate to the living room where they talk about work for a while.

You’re in the kitchen, still drinking but not to get drunk. You want to keep your wits about you, but you definitely need something to soothe your nerves. Maybe a shot of whiskey before everyone goes to your bedroom, and then many, many shots afterward for the shame–

“You excited?” Satoru’s voice startles you, as he appears behind you suddenly.

His big hands cage you against the island, as he talks over the shell of your ear. He’s so goddamn tall, and his body heat radiates onto you like a furnace, even though he isn’t yet touching you.

“I-I think so,” you reply, trying to pretend that you aren’t mildly mortified and less mildly terrified.

“Hah, me too,” he answers, sliding his fingertip from the top of your shoulder and down your arm as he speaks, “I’ve always wondered what you look like underneath this.”

He tugs at your uniform gently, before chuckling, and your cheeks are even hotter.

“That’s–”

“Ah, I get it,” Satoru says suddenly, as he pushes away from you and gives you a respectable amount of breathing room, “no touching until it’s my turn.”

It’s then that you notice the heated glare from the living room, coming from none other than Nanami. Suguru, as usual, looks bemused as he sits on your couch with an ankle on top of his knee.

“Is that a rule I didn’t know about?” You ask Gojo, turning around to look at him.

You can feel a glare hitting the back of your head, as Satoru smirks like a cheshire cat.

“There are a couple that you don’t know about,” he purrs, “only so you really don’t know who’s who.”

“Oh.”

He leans in closer before walking away, toying with a strand of your hair, “but I intend to break a couple of them,” he whispers, before sauntering off to join Suguru and Nanami.

Did he also intend to make you anxious? Because it worked.

…

Well, maybe he did intend to make you anxious. You’ve heard rumors about the kind of sex Satoru has, and it isn’t pretty, nor friendly, nor soft. Similar rumors float around about Suguru, but they’re quieter. Nanami, on the other hand, could be a priest for all you know about his sexual habits.

Toji is a fucking animal, and that’s known to everyone. You don’t have to hear rumors to deduce that one, you’ve met the man. He’s built like a mountain with dark, green eyes that match the trees. All animal, no man.

Naturally, he’s the last to arrive, and then your little party of five is complete.

And now you’re faced with the awkward part. As everyone sits in your living room, with you on the ottoman facing them all. It’s more intimidating than you thought it would be, because all of them are huge in their own right.

Toji, with his muscles that could rival Hercules himself. Gojo, with his professional NBA player stature. Suguru with his stare that sees right through you, and Nanami with his oppressive energy that makes you feel sort of ashamed of yourself for being here in the first place.

“We should set up ground rules,” Suguru says, before giving a knowing look to Satoru that you don’t miss, before directing it at you. His eyes drag down your body shamelessly, but he looks away innocently as though it never happened right after.

“Fuck ground rules,” Toji says, glaring out to the side, almost like he’s embarrassed, “she looks ready enough, let’s just do it.”

Scratch that. Not embarrassed at all.

“I wanna tie her hands up,” Satoru remarks dreamily from his spot next to Suguru, “legs, too–”

“If anyone’s tying her up, it’s going to be me,” Nanami remarks, silencing the others and gaining an amused hum from Satoru.

“I’m better at it,” he provokes the blonde.

“You’ll bruise her,” Nanami responds, and the tension in the air feels the same as when there’s about to be a brawl.

“Isn’t that the point?” Satoru retorts boredly.

“I’ll do it,” Suguru answers calmly, and there doesn’t seem to be any room for argument, “are you alright with that?”

You swallow, “Y-Yeah, I’m okay with that.”

After that, you go over some basic rules that will make you feel less uncomfortable with it.

They’re allowed to kiss you, touch you, slap, bite, and scratch, leave marks that will go away within a week or two (most of those were at Satoru’s request, specifically the more violent ones).No permanent scarring, and no one puts it in your ass unless you explicitly agree to it later (Suguru was the one who asked for some wiggle room in that department, to which Toji wholeheartedly agreed and then looked at your ass unabashedly).

Those were the only hard no’s you could think of at the time, but now you’re a little unsure of your decision.

There was a small argument over whether they had to use protection or not, mostly because Satoru and Toji are known for fucking anything that breathes, but Satoru coincidentally (or not so coincidentally) had a copy of his most recent STD screening, which happened four days ago. He also brought emergency contraceptives, not so coincidentally at all.

As if to prove that there was more coordination here than you anticipated, Toji had his records, too, and Suguru, and shockingly– Nanami, who only seems to surprise you more with each breath he takes today.

So, they’re going to fuck you raw and cum inside you, because you agreed to it more impulsively than you’d like to admit after thinking about it for little more than ten seconds.

“How do you feel about knives?” Satoru asks, sitting up in his seat now with rapt attention on you.

“Uh, as long as there’s no scar, I guess–”

“Who gives a fuck? Just take her upstairs already. We know the rules,” Toji growls, impatient and growing more impatient by the second.

“Sure,” Suguru replies smoothly as he moves to stand, offering you his hand as he helps you up, too.

“Ugh, I wanted to tie her up,” Satoru spits out petulantly as you walk away with Suguru, “see you soon, babe.”

Satoru winks at you before you leave, and the weight you feel at the base of your abdomen only feels more tightly wound when he does.

“You’re so soft,” Suguru remarks fondly, as he strips your shirt off, “beautiful, too. I know I’m not supposed to touch you without everyone else here, but you were too pretty to resist.”

You flush from head to toe, as he takes in the sight of you in nothing but a bra and a thong, which you’re embarrassed to admit that you took a very long time picking out just for the occasion.

“What do you get out of this, Suguru?” You ask softly, as his hands skim up your bare back to unhook your bra for you, “I-I understand Satoru, and Toji, but you–”

He leans back, as your bra falls to the floor with a soft thud, “Isn’t it obvious?” He asks, trailing his finger along your jawline and letting his thumb skate across your bottom lip. You shake your head, awaiting his answer impatiently, to which he just chuckles and hooks his other thumb in the waistband of your thong.

“I get you.”

With that, he tugs your panties down your legs, and you know that you’re already humiliatingly wet.

“I–”

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, eyeing you with those catlike eyes of his. They’re so dark that you feel like you can see the universe within them, the darkness of the abyss calling your name and threatening to drag you underneath its waves.

“It’s against the rules–”

“I know that,” he purrs, somewhat condescendingly, “but if Satoru’s going to break the rules, why can’t I?”

“Satoru’s what–”

His lips are on yours before you have any more time to question it, and frankly– you’re thankful that you don’t get to think about it any further. Suguru’s lips move against yours languidly, as if asking you to stop thinking, to let your brain take a break from rationalizing the experience and just have it.

So, you listen to him. Suguru’s wise, calm, collected. He won’t let anything bad happen to you.

He climbs over top of you, slipping his smooth palms up your sides and then up your arms, where he easily ties your wrists above your head. You’re still kissing, still not thinking, and you don’t want to be thinking.

He breaks the kiss for a brief second, though he’s still grinding his clearly hard cock against your leg, where he straddles the left one. He sits up, wrapping his fingers around your ankle and lifting it up over his shoulder, where he sits it.

“I think I’ll leave your legs untied,” he remarks, before pressing a kiss to your ankle smoothly, testing out the position.

“A-Alright,” you agree breathlessly, staring up at the gorgeous man before you that’s going to be inside of you soon enough. His hair is half tied behind his head, you wish he’d take it down and untie your arms so that you can tangle your fingers into it.

“Do your arms feel secure? Comfortable?” He asks quietly, appraising his work.

You test the restraints a couple of times, feeling slightly panicky when you realize that they don’t move at all.

“Y-Yeah–” you choke out as the door opens, and the other three men enter.

“Told you Suguru would be having fun without us,” Satoru says, but his smirk never leaves. It seems like he wanted this to be the case.

If his eyes looked hungry earlier, he’s starving now. You shift to close your legs, to grant you some privacy from the pairs of gleaming eyes that are taking in your naked body, but there’s no reprieve when Suguru’s hands clamp down above either of your knees, spreading them further.

Satoru moves closer, taking off his sunglasses to eye your sex salaciously as he kneels on the bed next to Suguru.

“She’s got a pretty pussy, huh?” Suguru asks mischievously, shooting his friend a sly look.

“I want to ruin it,” Satoru replies, he sounds feral. Perhaps even more so than Toji, who’s moved to your right to massage your tit, pinching your nipple between his calloused fingers.

“Ha–Ah–” you gasp, hearing your restraints clack against the bedframe.

“Be easy with her,” Nanami states firmly, as he’s on your other side.

His cheeks are flushed, his breathing is uneven, as though he’s having a hard time constraining himself now that he’s faced with the sight of you so naked and vulnerable to him. Despite his chastising Toji for doing the same thing, he moves to massage your other breast, though much gentler than the mountainous man on your right.

“Now, now,” Satoru purrs, “don’t get too handsy before she’s blindfolded. We don’t want her to know who’s who.”

With that, he pulls a blindfold out of his back pocket and Suguru moves out of his way so that he can scale your body until he’s eye level with you, hovering over you. There’s something humiliating about the way that he’s fully clothed and you’re fully naked, but what’s far more humiliating is the feeling of four pairs of eyes all looking down at you, watching, waiting, like predators.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Satoru asks, as if he’d give you room to back out if you said no.

“Y-Yes,” you mutter almost so softly that he can’t hear you, and he takes that as an enthusiastic yes, wrapping the blindfold over your eyes.

Every single feeling is ignited tenfold when you can’t see. Your hearing is sharper, and every touch to your body feels electric, as all of your nerve endings ignite at once.

There’s some shuffling, some whispering, a few moments where no one is touching you, and they all feel miles away, and then there’s weight pressing down onto the bed, and you’re no longer alone at all.

You have absolutely no idea how you’ll figure out whose fingers are pinching your nipples, whose lips are kissing down your chest to get to your pussy. One of them pries your mouth open, and you hear the sound of a zipper for the briefest second before your mouth is filled with a cock.

It’s huge– whoever this is, they’re rough, and they’re huge.

The rules are simple: they do whatever you want to you, you guess who’s doing what, and when you guess correctly, you get rewarded.

If you guess incorrectly or fail to figure it out, however, you get punished.

You can hardly focus on the dick that’s pulsing against your tongue as someone licks your pussy languidly, in long, hard swipes. Someone is kissing your neck, nibbling at the skin softly, and someone else— maybe even the same person is switching back and forth sucking your nipples, leaving lovebites across your chest.

You’re all sensation, all feeling– there’s no way that you can figure out what’s happening. But really, did you even want to?

Satoru stands at the edge of the bed, smiling to himself so triumphantly that you’d think he’d just won the lottery. Toji fucks your mouth like he owns it, trying his best to stifle his grunts when you take him oh so well.

Satoru licks his lips at the sight of Toji’s gigantic cock slipping in and out of your mouth. He bets its so soft, so pliant, that you know how to keep your teeth away and open your throat to take it. Nanami’s taken to kissing your neck, which honestly surprises Satoru more than anything else.

Does he have a crush on you? Is that why he’s here?

Is he going to cry when he sees Satoru empty his balls so deep inside of you that you might break all odds and get pregnant with his kid?

Satoru snickers to himself, before joining Suguru at your glistening pussy. He and Suguru need to exchange no words to know what they’re going to do. Suguru licks up and down your cunt once, before pulling back and nodding at Satoru.

Satoru smiles and spits on your pussy, making you gasp and jerk a little in your restraints. There’s nothing he likes the sound of more than handcuffs hitting a bedframe when the little bitch he’s fucking can’t take it anymore. There are already tears streaming down your face, but he wants there to be more.

He massages his spit into your cunt, and he’s purposefully rougher with his tongue than he knows Suguru would be. Nanami levels a slight glare at him, before going back to his task of marking your neck and chest in hickies.

Satoru glares back for a second, before pulling away and letting Suguru carry on the job. He meets Nanami at your chest, much to Nanami’s dislike, and he sucks your right nipple into his mouth while Nanami plays with your left.

He can’t let Nanami leave all the hickies on you— no, Satoru needs to leave more.

Suddenly, to everyone’s surprise, you spit the cock in your mouth out, choking out the word, “T-Toji.”

Toji growls in frustration, but you’re too far lost in whatever Suguru’s doing to your pussy to really notice it. He taps his cock on your lips, already ready to break the rules and fuck your mouth again, because god he was so fucking close, but a hand on his arm stops him.

He nearly punches the man behind him, which turns out to be Nanami, who has decided it's his turn with your mouth now. Toji glares, but after a certain look from Satoru, he relents and lets Nanami have his turn. Satoru takes this opportunity to break his first rule, while Suguru pulls out his cock and teases your entrance with it.

“Feel good, baby?” Satoru murmurs against your neck, as he lays next to you.

You make a warbled, surprised noise, before Nanami abruptly pulls out of your mouth, letting you speak.

“Y-Yeah– Ha–ah, fuck!” You hiss, as Suguru enters you in one go while you’re trying to talk, a coordinated attack no doubt.

Whoever’s fucking you is well-endowed, and his thrusts are hard and calculated to just hit that spot that makes you see stars. He, or whoever was eating you out, didn’t let you cum from that. No, while you were choking down Toji’s cock with everything in you, you were also subjected to edging.

Your body feels like it can’t take anymore, but you need more nonetheless. Someone slides his cock against your cheek, letting it dip into your open, panting mouth, so you dart your tongue out to lick and tease it. Meanwhile, Satoru’s murmuring in your ear filthy things, breaking the rules already.

“N-Not supposed to–to talk to m-me,” you stutter out between the feeling of a thick cock sliding in and out of you, and another teasing at your mouth, slipping across your tongue and spreading precum there.

“Oh, I know,” Satoru coos, as his fingers make his way down the center of your chest, before they find your clit easily, “but I’m not fucking you.”

“S-So?”

“So, you can’t guess me,” he argues, and you can hear the smirk, “but really– you’ll know when I’m fucking you.”

You moan at that admission, as you climb higher and higher in search of ecstasy. Your body could be on fire for all you know right now, as someone on your other side plays with your nipples, maybe Toji?

Or maybe Toji’s fucking you, and Suguru’s in your mouth, and Nanami’s to your right?

Satoru’s taken away your trump card, because when he’s talking to you, you can’t focus on the sharp exhales of breath that come from the man who’s fucking your mouth. He stops teasing your lips and your tongue, impatient and desperate.

You can taste the desperation, can feel it when his hands tangle into your hair and force you to take it deeper. It seems like he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he’s barely holding back from fucking your face even harder than Toji was.

You can’t breathe, can’t think, Satoru’s whispering about how you’re a filthy fucking whore, how you’re going to cum with one man’s cock down your throat and the other buried deep inside your pussy.

“And I haven’t even gotten started with you yet,” he mutters, and the anxiety his voice brings only drives you closer, closer, closer, “you said you’re okay with knives, hm?”

Your eyes shoot open underneath your blindfold, and the grip in your hair tightens exponentially until it hurts. Satoru never stops playing with your clit, drawing lazy circles over it while the man between your legs fucks you into oblivion. Either he hasn’t heard what Satoru just said, or he doesn’t care.

“Satoru.”

Nanami’s voice startles you, as he breaks the scene, and you realize that it’s his cock that’s driven into your esophagus right now. His tone sounds like he doesn’t approve at all of the swishing sound of a knife opening up on your left.

But you know that his cock twitched so hard that it gagged you when he saw it.

You also know that your pussy tightened around the cock between your legs, that the feeling of cool metal sliding down the middle of your chest made you see stars, that when Satoru turned it over and just let the blade scratch the skin between your tits, you came harder than you ever have in your entire life.

Quivering, shaking, panting, choking as Nanami drives himself deeper and deeper, you came while Satoru chuckled at you.

“You are such a fucking bad girl,” he laughs, as you can feel him grinding his hardened cock against your thigh, “you came from feeling a knife on your tits? Oh, you’re fucking filthy, aren’t you?”

He looks up at Nanami with a dangerous glint in his eye, and Nanami understands. He pulls out of your mouth just in time for Satoru’s fingers to wrap around your cheeks, turning your attention to him. You can feel his breath against your lips as he speaks. “Answer me.”

“Y-Ye-es, si-ir,” you manage, as you’re bounced freely by the man below you.

His fingers release you, and your mouth hangs open, but only for a second before a well-timed slap comes across your face, “What are you?”

“F-Fucking filthy s-slut,” you reply, having lost all sense of decency two dicks ago.

“Yeah? You like getting fucked like this? Getting used like this?”

“Y-Yes–s–”

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” someone rasps from below you, as you feel him twitching hard inside you, as warmth coats your insides. He moans, and you recognize that it’s Suguru, that you hadn’t guessed it yet.

They were supposed to play fair, be quiet and let you figure it out, but leave it to Satoru to make this harder on you, to make you say things that he knew would make Suguru unable to hold himself back. “Oh, you made Suguru cum, baby,” Satoru purrs, voice laced with faux concern, “you know what that means?”

“P-Punishment,” you manage to choke out, wincing as Suguru pulls out of you.

Now you’re even more lost than ever, because you no longer know if Suguru’s playing or not, and you’ve lost your only help when Satoru leaves your side, but not before kissing you roughly and deeply first, letting his tongue collide with yours and his teeth graze your bottom lip.

Oh, you’re so, so, so lost. Especially when you’re flipped over, and your hips are dragged up until you’re on your knees. Someone unties your hands, and you’re on all fours. There are hands all over your body, someone’s thrusting into your pussy. You can’t count how many hands there are as they massage you, focusing on your tits, your nipples that must be bright red from the abuse that they’ve endured so far.

You have no idea how many lovebites litter your chest, your neck, nor who gave them to you. The dick in your mouth might be familiar, it might not.

“I know you said no, darlin’,” Toji purrs, but you can’t tell where he is, “but I wanna put it in your ass for your punishment.”

“Toji, she said–” That’s Nanami, and you can commend him for sticking up for you, but–

“ Okay,” you slur out, letting the dick in your mouth hit your cheek.

You don’t know what possessed you other than some primal urge to be fucked and used, just like Satoru said, but you say yes.

You want it now, just like they thought you would. Your body is abused, your mind is gone, and you want it in every hole that you have.

“Attagirl,” Toji says, giving your cheek a little slap as they reposition themselves once more. Someone’s orchestrating these positions so that you’re always a little clueless, with cum dripping out of your pussy and onto the bed beneath you. You’d guess it’s Suguru.

You know that the cock that’s pushing into your pussy now isn’t Suguru’s. You’re lifted up, with your bare back against someone’s chest, as he kisses down your neck. “Nanami,” you murmur, feeling the weight of him still inside you, as he chuckles against the side of your neck. You guessed based purely on instinct, but he’s gentler than the rest. He takes care of you better than the rest.

“You’re right, angel,” he murmurs, before pushing you down on top of someone else a little too roughly, “but you’re a fucking slut, and you need to be treated like one.”

With that, he hammers into you from behind, as you lean down, kissing whoever’s beneath you. His tongue invades your mouth ravenously, deliriously. You pull off, and there’s a string of spit connecting his lips to yours, as you both pant into each other’s mouths.

“S-Satoru,” you whimper down to him, as someone positions himself in front of you again, and you know that you’re about to be facefucked.

“Moaning my name when Nanami’s inside you,” Satoru replies, “such a bad fucking girl.”

“Mm– Ngh, Satoru,” you repeat it, and your neediness seems to stir something in him. His breathing speeds up, he seems to lose his cool just a little bit. He’s been so calm, so collected, so rational this whole time.

“Satoru– want– you,” you moan out wantonly, and just as you do, Nanami pulls out of you abruptly, spraying your back with his cum, moaning as he does so.

Nanami has no idea why hearing you moan Satoru’s name gets him off. Maybe it’s a kink that he never knew he had, but seeing you lying on top of Satoru, kissing him, moaning his name– it spurred something deep within him.

Nanami was the one pleasuring you, Nanami was the one fucking you– feeling the warmth and slickness provided by Suguru’s cum already coating your walls, and yet you moaned Satoru, like it was all his doing.

It was fucking insulting, degrading, and he came so hard that he thought he might fucking die.

He couldn’t help but want to see your ass covered in it, to see your whole body covered in it, as he stroked himself, moaning out your name and cursing himself, as euphoria took over him, and he watched as he sprayed ropes of thick, white cum across your skin.

He likes the picture he’s painted in white on your skin, as he moves away, and Satoru drags you down just a bit lower so that he can fuck up into you like that.

You know it’s Satoru, and you still want him. Nanami’s cock twitches in his hand, as he strokes himself again from the side of the bed, where he watches as Suguru takes his place in front of you, slipping into your throat, while Toji smears some lube across your ass.

He doesn’t miss the way that Toji uses some of his cum, too. How he drags his fingers across your back and gathers it, before pressing it into your hole with one thick finger. You startle, but Satoru’s hands stop you, cemented on your hips while he fucks up into you.

You have nowhere to go, nowhere to run. Toji presses a finger into your ass, and then two, and then three, and you’re helpless to do anything about it. With every thrust up that Satoru makes, you’re jolted forward onto Suguru’s cock that’s lodged deep inside your throat, already hard and ready again.

Toji takes his time, but not too much time, getting your ass ready. He’s been edged twice already, and he’s feeling goddamn impatient with you now. He wants to cum, and he wants to cum deep in that ass that he’s been ogling since the first time he ever saw you.

His cock throbs and pulses in his hand, as he eases the tip into your hole, trying not to pay attention to the way that Satoru is still relentless fucking you from underneath, nor the way that Suguru is using your mouth like a fleshlight, and you don’t even know it’s him. “Relax,” Toji demands, as he feels that you’re too tight for him.

But fuck, even if you are, he doesn’t care anymore. He thrusts in a little harder, and you mewl around Suguru. Nanami watches from the side, pretends he isn’t interested in just watching, but god knows he is.

Already hard again, and he just came all over your pretty back. He likes it just as much as the rest of these depraved motherfuckers– he’s just too stuck-up to realize it.

Suguru gives your mouth a break, while Satoru talks to you again. Always the talker, never shuts the fuck up. Toji still doesn’t care– he’s all animal tonight.

“You wanna cum again?” Satoru asks, wrapping his slender hand around your throat.

“P-Please,” you manage to squeak out, but your voice is so hoarse that he can barely hear it. Satoru involuntarily thrusts up into you again. He loves you when you’re broken.

“Then relax your fuckin’ ass,” Satoru threatens, leaning in close and pulling your blindfold off, “or I won’t let you.”

Being able to see the darkened, lightless look in Satoru’s eyes is devastating. It makes your pussy clench around him, makes your senses go into overdrive. Unblindfolded, it’s all so real suddenly.

Toji’s pushing his cock into your ass whether you like it or not, Satoru’s fucking you from underneath, and Suguru’s rubbing his cock all over your face like he wants you to worship it, to worship him. Nanami’s watching, waiting, stroking himself, staring at you.

“Let him fuck your ass now,” Suguru commands, though much softer than Satoru had, “or we’ll all use you until we’re finished, and you won’t get to.”

You feel cornered between Satoru and Suguru. There’s no one to look to for help– they’re in this together, just like they always are.

So, you do the only thing that you can, and you relax yourself as much as possible, given the situation. Toji’s moan of approval when he finally sinks all the way into you is reward enough in and of itself, but Satoru’s hand moving to play with your clit when they start moving again is more than enough.

“That’s it,” Toji praises, “that’s my fuckin’ girl.”

“Not your fuckin’ girl,” Satoru argues, seeming to have lost every inch of coolness that he had before. Now, he’s just as much an animal as Toji is, if not worse.

“She’s mine, all fucking mine,” Satoru repeats with a crazed look in his eye. Toji only fucks you harder in response, grunting occasionally as he watches his thick cock disappear inside you.

Suguru sits back against the headrest, and Nanami comes to your right. Toji doesn’t take his time in fucking your ass, even if it’s the first time you’ve had it, and Satoru definitely doesn’t take his time with your already abused cunt. The two of them work in tandem– you can feel the thin layer of muscle between one cock and the other, like they’re rubbing each other through you.

“She fuckin’ likes it, huh?” Suguru says, still stroking himself, moving faster with each hard thrust into you. Nanami stifles a moan, as you turn your head to the side, taking him into your mouth when you can.

“She fuckin’ loves it,” Satoru groans, and you can tell he’s getting close, “she fuckin’ loves getting pumped full of cum, don’t you?”

You moan out a yes, or you try to. You don’t know anything anymore– probably couldn’t recite your own name if asked. All you know is pleasure, pain, sensation, deprivation. You know in and out, euphoria and desire. Everyone moves fast, only getting faster, harder. You won’t be able to stave off this orgasm long. Satoru’s fingers are long, slender, dextrous. He knows how to play with you to get you off, and his cock hits your g-spot all the way to your cervix with every delicious, borderline painful thrust inside you.

Forgotten is the game that you were playing– the only thing that anyone is thinking about is chasing release, chasing pleasure, cumming and filling you up with their seed.

“I’m– I’m–”

“Cum for me,” Satoru and Toji say in tandem, almost competitively, and you’re gasping, face contorting in pleasure as it spikes, and you feel yourself fluttering around the both of them.

Nanami goes with you– he uses your open, gasping mouth as an excuse to angle his cock against your lips, spraying his cum on your tongue while you’re still in the midst of your climax. It’s a chain reaction of pure depravity when Suguru groans and leans up, cumming on your face right as Nanami finishes.

It drips down your chin, down your neck, as you struggle to swallow the cum that fills your mouth. Satoru moans beneath you, as he licks it up from your throat, before sinking his teeth into the junction between your neck and shoulder so hard that you scream and take it.

You tighten, all of your holes tighten from the sudden pain– there’s cum dripping off of your face and out of your mouth, and Toji can’t take it anymore. His hips stutter, Satoru’s follow, and you feel it deep inside you. Your ass and pussy are filled so deeply with cum that you finish again from the sheer feeling of it. Hot, thrusting, twitching, throbbing– Satoru’s whining beneath you with his teeth still latched to your neck, Toji’s bent over your back, biting down on your shoulder on the other side, and they’re both thrusting out the last of their release inside you as you shake around them.

Satoru feels you slump down on top of him, entirely limp, as he tries to catch his breath. His mouth tastes a little bit like Suguru’s cum, a little bit like copper, a little bit like you. Toji pulls out, but Satoru stays in for a second longer, as everyone takes a second to come to their senses again.

Everyone except you, that is. You are fully unconscious.

When you wake up, there are two men with you. Your head lays on Nanami’s lap, as he’s asleep in a half-seated position leaned against your headboard. His fingers are still in your hair, like he’s been stroking it while you slept.

You chuckle softly to yourself. It only makes sense that he’d be depraved enough to have an orgy with you, but still chaste enough to not sleep in the same bed with you afterwards.

One who is equally depraved at night and in the morning is Satoru, who’s wrapped around you with each and every one of his gangly limbs like he wants to trap you there forever.

You later learn that Toji and Suguru went home afterwards, and that Satoru offered to spend the night to make sure you’re alright after you blacked out. Nanami wasn’t having that, apparently, because he couldn’t trust Satoru with you all night alone. Again as if they hadn’t just fucked you together.

So, unknowingly, you had a sleepover with both, where all you did was sleep.

You still aren’t a cat, so curiosity didn’t kill you yet, but it did leave you with an entire body that felt like it was made of lead, and the newfound knowledge that both Satoru and Nanami had some sort of weird possessiveness over you that only increased after that night’s events.

You also learned that even though they both seem to want to possess you fully, they’re still down for threesomes sometimes, albeit very competitive ones. Toji and Suguru aren’t very possessive, but they still like to give you a run for your money when they get the chance.

The moral of the story is that curiosity is a good thing, and getting to fuck four abysmally hot men is even better.

[septembersummer]

Hello sorry to bother you but I recently got into jjk and started hunting for gojo fics on AO3 because I realised he is actually not really in the manga as much as I thought and I’ve yet to watch the anime. However I’ve become such a slut for gojo I needed more and found ur fics. Lo and behold I fell down the rabbit hole and ur fics are simply WONDERFUL and helping me a lot and I am now inspired to write my own… but I’m so scared of messing up and I wanted to ask like how do you characterise gojo? I’m scared I won’t do a good job and I’m also kinda scared of posting my stuff 😞 anyway I also wanted to say I love your writing ❤️❤️❤️ and thank you for sharing your amazing fics with us 🥰

omg this is so far from a bother! thank you so much for asking and for reading my fics!

now by no means am i writing expert, buuuuuut i'll give you some of the tips that i usually use whenever i'm trying to nail down characterization (specifically for gojo in this instance)

the first thing i do when i want to write for a character is to research them-- watch the anime, read the manga, read through a character analysis of them, look at the way that other people perceive them. the better you know the character, the easier it'll be to determine their personality, motivations, thought processes, etc. when you start writing them

my gojo is definitely a little out of character (he's a lil extra sadistic and jealous for the spice), but i like to try and keep his core personality traits similarish to canon.

honestly i could write a novel on gojo's character, but my interpretation of him is vaguely like this: he's a lil cocky and arrogant on the outside-- he can come across as rude and insensitive to people that don't know him well, but beneath the callous, smart-assed exterior, he's a kind person with good intentions, whether he wants to be or not. he's also very traumatized and unwilling to, like, get a therapist, but i digress

that's how i usually characterize him-- your interpretation might be completely different, and that's more than okay! that's the beauty of writing fanfics-- you can work with a character that you already know and love, while also tweaking them to be the way that you want them to be.

my last little tip is to just be confident in yourself and in your writing! i mess up literally all the time-- every writer does! mistakes only exist to help you grow.

honestly, though, if you have even the smallest urge to write, you should write. take the risk! you seriously won't regret it.

i'm rooting for you and sending nothing but love! i hope this helps a little!!

[septembersummer]

COLLEGE FRIENDS W BENEFITS OR JUST ANYthing college/uni PLAYBOY GOJO X READER please im starving

hehehe let's go ~

i actually love this prompt so much! playboy/fwb gojo is one of my favs. thanks for the req!

18+ only! minors dni!

wc: 1.4k

desc: gojo satoru is a player, and everyone knows it. maybe he'll get a taste of his own medicine for once~

tags: gojo x reader, college au, fwb au, gojo has a tongue ring, oral s*x, public s*x, possessive gojo, role reversal hehe, gojo is a fkboy, alcohol use

a/n's: pls excuse my typos lmao hope u have fun

You were shocked the day that Satoru Gojo first paid attention to you.

He has many names around campus, and none of them are good. He's a player, a filthy rich boy who's never known the struggles that others go through when trying to survive college.

He needs to write an English paper? Well, that's no big deal; he's got a girlfriend who's an English major, and if she hates him this week-- he'll just hire someone to do it for him! The same goes for probability and statistics, whatever science class he's signed up for (he doesn't remember, it's not like he attends much, anyway), and he can't even be bothered to worry about his electives.

However, there's one girl in his assigned history class that's been catching his eye recently. Most of the girls in here have come and gone (pun intended), but this one's different. You know the answers to the questions, always mumbling them under your breath without ever raising your hand to speak.

Satoru knows this about you, because he pays more attention to you than to anything that's said in the lecture, and he's curious to learn more about you and your mysterious aura. See, he's learning things at university! Just not the things that he's supposed to.

You sit across the room from him, and you never pay attention to him, even though you must be able to feel his attention constantly lingering on you. Your fingers drum on your keyboard quickly, and Satoru finds himself wondering how small they'd look wrapped around his--

He's distracted from his train of thought when a miracle happens. A god's honest miracle.

For the first time in six weeks (he's counted), you turn your gaze to look at him, and you scowl. Your expression only piques his interest more, unbeknownst to you.

That one look must be the reason that you keep bumping into Satoru Gojo, even though you've never intentionally done so. See, you aren't dumb, and you don't want to get involved with a player like him. You've seen the girls that hate Satoru, and all of them have a great reason to do so.

He stood me up on a date, because he was going on another date instead!

He only hooked up with me once, just so I'd write a paper for him! I fucking hate Satoru.

He let me give him head and kicked me out right after, like, who does that?

He tried to have a threesome with me and his roommate--

Maybe the last one isn't so bad, but still. You've heard the rumors, you've seen the shit-show that comes with him, so much so that you could easily quote the words that he says to girls when he kicks them out after he's finished with them.

So, when he bumps into you at a party, your first thought is thanks, but no thanks.

The pretty boy, however, takes your clear dismissal as a challenge. Maybe it's because he's a little drunk, and you're here at his apartment (you don't know that, you were just hanging out with Shoko-- swear!), but Satoru thinks that tonight is the night that he wants to see a whole new side of the shy girl from history 2256.

"Excuse me," you mumble, as Satoru bumps into you, nearly spilling your beer.

He doesn't leave. Instead, he places a hand on the wall that you're standing up against, effectively trapping you against the drywall as he stares down at you.

His eyes are magnificent, ethereal, something that shouldn't belong to a human, but you aren't interested. You've told yourself a thousand times that you aren't interested-- no need to falter now.

"You don't look like a beer girl, wallflower," he hums, leaning over you and licking his lips.

When you see the glint of something that looks like a silver tongue-ring, your resolve falters, though only slightly.

"Who says I'm a wallflower?" You reply, trying not to feel so small standing next to him, but he really is huge.

He knocks on the drywall behind you, "See this? This is a wall, and you're standing against it at a party. Think that makes you a wallflower, according to the book."

Your eyes narrow, "Did you read that book?"

"Do I look like I read that book?"

You take a deep, shuddering breath, and the beer is working its magic. Even though he's saying basically nonsense, the mischievous gleam in his eye is drawing you into him.

Gone is the frat party that you've been watching from a distance. Literally, it's blocked out by his broad shoulders. He's wearing a thrasher hoodie, and goddamnit if he doesn't actually pull it off, despite the fact that you're sure this pampered, rich boy has never been on a skateboard in his life.

"No, you don't look like you've ever read anything," you reply, lowering your voice to a soft murmur.

What happens after that is a blur to you, but you aren't particularly upset about it in hindsight. It didn't take long for him to work his magic, for you to find his arrogant sense of humor a little endearing, and for him to find your openly insulting comebacks to be a cute little challenge for him.

A challenge that he's won.

He can tell that he's won, because you're lying in his bed with your legs spread wide, as he devours you. The party is still raging in the next room, but the only remnant of whatever's happening there that remains in this dark room is the methodic thumping of the music outside trickling into the room as he kisses, sucks, and slurps your pussy until you're mewling, grasping onto his hair for dear life.

Say what you will about the spoiled, filthy rich boy who goes through girls like they're disposables-- he's great at what he does.

"Satoru-- Satoru-- right there, I'm gonna-- nggh, ah--" you mewl, rocking your hips against his pretty lips, feeling his tongue ring slip over your clit, teasing and testing, while he fingers eagerly pump in and out of you.

"Mhm, cum for me, wallflower," he purrs, before giving an especially hard suck to your clit, and you're falling over the edge before you know it.

The room spins, and the only things grounding you are the thumping of the bass outside, and Satoru's hands that keep your thighs spread widely apart for him.

Even with hot cheeks, your resolve hasn't faltered that quickly yet. You sit up, placing your smaller hands overtop of his to pry them off of your thighs. He looks up at you in the darkness with confusion written all over his pretty features.

In response, you ruffle his hair affectionately and wipe your slick off of his glossy, soft lips, before leaning down to press a kiss to them.

"That was great, babe," you purr, "I'll call you next time I want you to do that for me."

"What?" He mumbles with shock written all over his features, as you stand up and fix your pants.

"Oh, did you think I wanted something serious?" You ask, remembering all those girls that have complained to you about Satoru's behavior.

At this point, you could quote him.

So, you do.

"You don't wanna spend the night?" He asks, looking a little frantic and confused, sitting up on the bed now as he watches you.

"Nah," you say, mimicking his tone, "but we'll see each other in class, Monday, right?"

"Our class is Tuesday," he mumbles dejectedly, as you lean over him to press another quick kiss to his lips.

"Ah, I forgot," you reply, caressing his cheek softly, "but I'll definitely call you, mmkay?"

You turn on your heels and head for his bedroom door, not even sparing him a glance as you leave through it and flatten your hair, off to find Shoko and get the fuck out of here.

Little did you know, trying to outdo Satoru in his own game would only lead you to trouble.

Which is why the next time he sees you, the two of you only have to exchange one heated glance before you're excusing yourself to the bathroom in the middle of the lecture, and Satoru's following right behind you.

The kind of trouble where every Tuesday at 10:15am, you find yourself bent over the sink in the girl's bathroom, as Satoru fucks into you roughly and reminds you that he's the only one that gets to see you like this.

And you like trouble, so you smirk and meet his eyes in the mirror, murmuring, "Ha, no way."

He only fucks you harder after.

[septembersummer]

CAN I GOT SOME TOJI SMUT I WANT HIM TO DICK ME LIKE HOW HE CARRIES THAT WORM ON HIS SHOULDERS

oh toji smut? don't mind if i dooo

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

wc: 4k-ish

cw: smut, breeding kink, size kink, choking, gagging, rough s*x, creampie, some angst, impregnation (bc it's toji lmao), daddy as a nickname, predator/prey dynamics, biting, marking, maybe slightly dub/con, wax play

A/N's: this is based off of It Will Come Back by Hozier (god tier song), so the lyrics are posted throughout tehe. Why does it remind me of Toji? No clue, but have fun be safe out there

crossposted on Ao3 pls go check it out there hehe

accepting requests <3

You know better, babe. You know better, babe.

You’re cooking dinner. You’d normally make something simple, something small, but you’re getting a feeling that your visitor will be back tonight. It’s still a mystery to you how you always manage to get this gut feeling when he’s going to show up again, as sporadic as it might be when he does. He’s a drifter at heart—he won’t stick around in one place for long. .

Swaying in the kitchen, humming along to some slow, bluesy song you’ve been listening to lately, making something fit for two, you know that you need to send him away this time. It’s not good for either of you, this strange relationship that you’ve developed over the past few months. He’s inconsistent, confusing, doesn’t stick around for more than a night.

Gone before sunrise, and you’re alone with the emptiness that he leaves inside you once again. Always.

While you know that you need to send him away this time, you also know that you probably won’t.

He warned you the first time that you met, didn’t he?

The mountainous man with jet-black hair framing devious, emerald eyes. The scar that extends from his chin above his upper lip, the smile he gives that curves it and makes him look even more devious.

“Honey, don’t be kind to me. You’ll never get rid of me like that.”

You were kind to him, and he was right, you shouldn’t have been. You’ve got the soul of someone that likes to take in strays.

You’re kind, careful, patient, even with men as terrible as Toji, which is the reason that he shows up at your doorstep every few weeks like this, expecting love, care, compassion.

It’s the reason that you give him love, care, and compassion, even when you know that the relationship is parasitic at best.

You know better, babe. You know better, babe, than to talk to it, talk to it like that.

There’s a storm coming somewhere in the distance. The thunder rumbles, as you’re sipping some tea.

You’re a tea kind of person, coffee’s too strong. The kind of person that doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t laugh too loud, or seek attention in a crowd.

You’ve only one vice, and he’s as tall, as strong as a mountain, does unsavory things during the daytime that you don’t dare ask about when he finds his way into your home at night.

One vice, and it’s about the time of month that he’s going to appear, like the dark, roiling clouds in the distance.

There’s a knock at the door, only one, and you take a heaving sigh, a shaking sip of your tea, before gracefully stepping over to open it.

Don’t let it in with no intention to keep it. Jesus Christ, don’t be kind to it. Honey, don’t feed it— it will come back.

The rain has come, and so has he, and tonight is the last time that you’ll let him in. You can’t let him in anymore. One vice, and you’re going to purge it from your system, beckon it not to pester your thoughts any longer.

“Hey, honey,” he says, and his voice slips down your spine like molasses, low and smooth.

And you’ve got a soul that likes to take in strays, so something tugs at your heartstrings when you see that he’s a little wet from the rain, that there appears to be some blood on his shirt.

A little more disheveled as usual, just as devious as usual. You need to send him away now, before he’s gotten his hooks beneath your skin again, but you can’t, and you won’t.

“It’s about that time of month again, hm?” You ask, turning your back to him. Coy, aloof, you’re trying your best to seem uninterested.

He’ll only run again as soon as he’s through with you. He always does, he always will.

He chuckles warmly, following you into your home. It’s cozy here—warm, comfortable, with candles all around that you burn throughout the daytime and long into the night when he arrives.

Everything smells like cinnamon and warmth, and Toji smells like cigarettes and blood. Maybe it’s the reason that he likes to gift himself with your presence ever so often.

He watches the sway of your hips, as you walk into the kitchen, where there’s dinner made for the both of you.

It’s tradition at this point that despite your best interests, you’ll show him love, care, compassion.

He looks at you like a prime cut of meat, and you look at him like a broken creature that you want to mend. A broken creature that won’t ever let you finish the job. He’ll leave before sunrise, still broken, but a little better off than when he arrived.

Don’t give it a hand, offer it a soul. Honey, make this easy.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, taking some of the food that you’ve made for him. His cunning, emerald eyes meet your warm, doe eyes, and you know that you’ve let a predator into your home once again.

It’s the last time.

“Really?” You reply, disbelievingly, “c’mon, we aren’t animals. Let’s eat sitting down, Toji.”

“Thought you liked it standing up.”

He gives you a mischievous grin, and your cheeks want to flush, but you’re tired of the cat and mouse game that you’ve been playing with him for these months, so you just give him a baseless glare, and head off towards your kitchen table.

He does follow, because he’s well trained to mind himself when he’s here, even though you’re sure he knows he doesn’t have to.

He could be the animal that he normally is, rude and off-putting to you, and you’d still invite him back into your warmth next month, so long as he looked a little tired when he arrived.

He sits across from you, staring at you more than he should. His emerald eyes take in your form, as soft and curvy as he remembers you.

You’re the warmth of a hearth on the coldest day of winter, and he’s nothing more than a bum who dares to sit before you as often as he can. So, he eats your food, he eyes you, and knows that there’s something wrong with you tonight.

Honey, don’t feed it. It will come back.

“I can’t see you anymore, Toji,” you say, staring away from him at a little candle that burns in the center of your meager dining table.

You like to keep most of the lights off in your home. Letting warm, ambient lighting in exclusively. You stare into the flame, swearing that it flickers harder when the mountainous, scarred man before you raises an eyebrow in your direction.

“Thought I warned ya,” he says, brushing it aside as he finishes, “let me in once, I’ll always come back.”

He licks his lips once in your direction, and you take a sip of your tea. Always tea, never coffee. You don’t like harsh things, don’t like facing harsh realities.

“I won’t let you anymore,” you say, sitting tall in your rickety chair, and thunder rumbles in the distance, drawing closer with every breath you take.

Toji’s eyes grow thinner, as his smirk widens, “I’m afraid I won’t give you a choice.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you reply.

The room feels smaller than it did before now that he’s entered it. He takes up so much space in the room, so much space in your mind. It’s all unhealthy, harsh, bitter.

“What? You don’t like me anymore?” He asks, leaning forward in your direction.

He can nearly touch you, even from across the table. He takes up so much space here—it’s already small enough.

You give him a downcast look, “I like you plenty, Toji. I just know you won’t stick around, and I’m tired of waiting on you.”

With those words, you stand, wanting to escape his gaze before you lose the nerve. It’s raining outside now—a torrential downpour that’ll last all night at this rate.

You pick up your plate, and then his, as his fingers wrap around your wrist, forcing your gaze to meet his again, try as you might to avoid it.

“Why d’you keep letting me in?” He asks, and he seems genuine for once.

You give him a small, sad smile, “I’ve got a bleeding heart for wounded animals, and there’s no animal as wounded as you, babe.”

You know better, babe. You know better, babe, than to smile at me, smile at me like that.

He chuckles softly, before releasing your delicate wrist. He’s always careful with you, sees and appreciates how breakable you are. Fragile and warm, gentle and kind, it’s everything that he loves about you.

And if there was a woman that Toji could love now, it’d be you.

He follows you into your kitchen. It’s cramped, filled with your things, and you like it that way. You like cozy, comfortable.

You’ve only got one vice, and he’s wrapping his big arms around your waist as you wash dishes. He’s kissing your shoulder, and then your neck, slowly, easily, fluidly.

“What’d I just tell you?” You chastise him weakly, but he doesn’t let go of you.

“Somethin’ I’m not gonna listen to,” he answers easily, kissing your neck again.

You know better, babe, than to hold me just, hold me just like that.

I know who I am when I’m alone.

I’m somethin’ else when I see you.

“I’m not sleeping with you again,” you murmur, and Toji would certainly disagree based on the goosebumps that he can see prickling at the back of your neck, spreading across your shoulders.

His hand snakes underneath your shirt. His fingers are rough and calloused against the silky planes of your stomach. The pads of his fingers skim over your ribs, like he wants to count each of them.

“Stop that,” you huff, wriggling out of his grasp. You’re finished washing up now, so you turn to move past him, only for Toji to impetuously block your way.

It’s hard to meet his gaze when it’s downcast in your direction that way. Emerald eyes, devilish more than they’ve ever been kind, framed by beautiful, raven lashes. Scarred and mangled, he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever known.

It certainly isn’t pity that you feel for Toji, the gnarled creature that he is, it’s the purest expression of love that you can manage.

Care, a will to try and care for him, even though you’re certain that you’ll never get through to him in any way that counts.

And he’s growing impatient, irritated with you tonight, because you’re Toji’s oasis. You and your warmth and your swaying hips are the reason that he keeps going, killing.

He’s moving through life, always in one, singular direction. His compass points to home, it points to you, and you’re trying to throw him out tonight.

You don’t understand. You should never know how easy you are to need.

Toji doesn’t know how other people express their emotions, but his tend to come out in one way, and one way only.

He braces a big hand on either side of your much smaller frame on your kitchen counter, leaning over you threateningly. The lights flicker, thunder rumbles, and for the first time since you’ve known the monster that graces your doorway every month, you feel slightly, slightly afraid of him.

“I’m serious,” you murmur up at him, and all he can think about is how pretty your doe eyes look when they’re staring up at him like that through your eyelashes.

“No, you’re not,” he replies, never breaking his glare, “you love me.”

“I don’t.”

Thunder rumbles, lightning strikes somewhere nearby, the lights flicker again. God’s angry at you, angry at you for lying through your teeth. And the house has always been small, but it’s smaller than ever.

Your breaths mingle with Toji’s, he’s leaned down too closely, he’s so much larger than you, hardly fits in a place like this.

Hardly fits inside you, but he knows that he’ll make it fit, just like he always does.

Because Toji doesn’t know how to express his emotions, and you’re giving him some fucking bad ones tonight.

His eyes scan your face over and over, flickering between your plush lips and wide eyes, drinking in your expression, scared as it might be.

“It’s alright,” he coos, but you sense that it’s disingenuous, “I’ll take care of ya.”

“What—”

“Cause I love you, too.”

Don’t let me in with no intention to keep me. Jesus Christ —don’t be kind to me.

Honey, don’t feed me, I will come back.

He’s lifting you up, and you’re wrapping your legs around his hips with a squeak of protest.

You weigh nothing to Toji, light as a feather, his muscles hardly flex when he grabs you, and you’re draping your arms over his shoulders. You sit back on his forearms, glaring at him.

“Put me down— Toji! I’m serious—” you try to sound demanding, but you’re stepping through the bedroom doorway before you get the chance.

There’s a devious, devilish smirk on Toji’s scarred lips, and his cock’s already starting to ache against his thigh.

He needs somewhere to bury it, somewhere to plant his seed and keep it there, watch it grow into something new.

There’s something about Toji—his feelings are a mystery to everyone, not barring himself. But there’s one thing that he feels, he always feels it, even when he shouldn’t.

It’s primal, urgent, always calling his name, and you’re here tonight—the subject of his one and only real feeling.

He’s going to breed you. Tonight, just like this.

Your back hits the softness of your mattress, as you stare up at him in the low, warm lighting. He looks larger than ever, more intimidating than ever, and you were a goddamned fool to think that this would ever pan out in any other way.

He takes what he wants from you, and he wouldn’t keep showing up here if he didn’t want you.

More than a want, he needs you.

It can’t be unlearned—I’ve known the warmth of your doorways.

Through the cold, I’ll find my way back to you.

Right now he needs your clothes off, and thunder rumbles again—right on top of you. It’s above your house, above your head, inside the room with you. The storm is raging inside of you and all around you, and you’re as damned as ever when you sit up on your knees, letting him slide your silk, night dress over your head.

You’re naked, bared to him and god above, prepared for what comes next, and he’s just glaring, albeit salaciously.

A terrified squeak erupts from you as his hand clasps around your throat suddenly, forcing your chin up to look at him.

“Tell me you love me back,” he demands, cold and cruel.

You’ve never seen him like this before—he’s given you all the softness left in him over the past few months. You’ve drained him dry, and now you’re getting him in his actuality.

Lightning strikes, the lights flicker for longer than ever.

“I love you,” you tell him, and it’s the truth.

Tears threaten to well and spill down your cheeks, but he wipes them away with a calloused thumb before they get the chance to betray your absolute honesty.

Lightning strikes, and Toji kisses you.

You feel the scar on his lip, as he crawls overtop of you, too large for such a bed as this. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, as he slots himself between your parted legs, skimming a hand down the smoothness of your thigh, dipping lower and lower until he feels the wetness between your thighs.

How could you ever throw him out?

You couldn’t, not when he bites down on the side of your neck and plunges two fingers into the slippery wetness of your cunt, and he pumps them in the way that makes your toes curl, legs shake and quiver.

“Should’a never let me in here,” he chuckles maliciously against the side of your throat, lifting himself up so that you can watch his thick, rough fingers disappearing in and out of your pussy.

“You'll never get rid of me now, honey. Never,” he bites your chest, leaving a mark, “ever,” he bites the side of your breast, another bruise, “ever.”

The storm has filled the room around you, and the lights go out entirely, leaving you with nothing but candlelight to illuminate the rough planes of his face, the emerald tinged hurricane beneath his dark lashes. Your toes curl, fingernails dig into his back, and you’re gushing around his fingers whether you protest it or not.

“That’s it,” he purrs, marking your other tit with a circle that matches his sharp teeth, “cum for me— fuckin’ cum on daddy’s fingers.”

Daddy. He’s never called himself that before, and it startles you in the throes of your orgasm, but you’re too weightless, boneless from the sparks of electricity igniting your skin to stop him—there’s no stopping him anyway. He’s an immovable object, a boulder in your path that you’ll never push past.

And he’s grabbing a candle off your bedside table, as you’re sated, staring up at him with parted lips and panting breaths, cheeks hot and flushed.

“You scared?” He asks, and he knows the answer, as he tips the little candle over, letting some of the hot wax drip onto your bare stomach.

It’s hot, and you hiss, starting to move away from him before his hand meets your shoulder, pressing you down into the mattress while you get used to the molten hot, unfamiliar feeling that he’s giving you.

One less candle, and it’s getting darker in here. Now you can see his glowing gaze more so than anything else.

But you can’t focus on your lack of sight—your mind is preoccupied with the feeling of hot wax dripping onto you, a perfect line from between your hips, extending all the way to the center of your rib cage.

Between your breasts, over your right one, then your left. The wax hits your sensitive, hard nipple, and you gasp—an attempt to writhe away from the sensation, but you don’t want it to stop.

There are goosebumps covering your skin all over, but you’re far from cold.

“Gonna paint ya,” he chuckles darkly, watching the red wax drip across your soft skin, “before I breed ya.”

“What—” you hiss, but he’s taking another, and he’s covering the wax on your nipples again, and you’re moaning confusedly at the temperature change on your skin.

Every drip, drop, drip of wax onto your body tingles, burns a bit, but then it feels good. And you’re wet, and you want to cum again.

Two candles out, thunder crashes closely, and it’s almost entirely dark as Toji ducks his head down between your thighs. He’s kissing your pussy, but you can’t feel the scar on his lip anymore.

Your arching, as still-hot wax drips off your body onto the sheets, ruining and staining them. You don’t care—you don’t care about anything other than the messy, wet kisses he’s giving your sex. Teasing you while you’re still sensitive, before he starts the rhythm against your clit that he knows makes you cum hard.

Your fingers find his hair, even in the darkness, and he really does love you. You can tell every time he comes back here and remembers just how to make you cum just right.

“Toji—Toji— Toji,” you cry out his name into the darkness like a prayer, listening to the rain and the sound of his rough groans against your sex.

Another candle blows out, and the storm rages like it’s going to take the walls down with it. You wouldn’t care—your orgasm is ripping through your body like it’s going to tear you in half.

Toes curl, fingernails dig into his scalp, Toji moans against your clit, and your spine arches as you cry out his name, letting the storm envelop you in pure lightning.

He rides you through it, cooing against your pussy like he loves it, before slipping up between your thighs. He’s shirtless, he’s naked, he’s pressing his hard, uncovered cock against your entrance, and you’re lost in the sensation of absolutely nothing but heat.

You’re on fire, and you want to burn.

Hot wax covers your body, and he covers your body, and the weight of his cock is slipping through your entrance, though it’s a fucking stretch.

“That’s it,” he growls against your lips, “take it— take daddy’s fuckin’ cock.”

“C-Condom— Toji—“ you manage to squeak out, but it’s useless, absolutely futile on a night like this.

You can’t see it in the darkness, but the smile he gives you is pure, undiluted evil. No, he’s waited plenty long enough to do this with you.

He’s fought his own primal, instinctual urges every other time he’s fucked you, but there’s a storm tonight outside, another inside him, and he’s going to fuck a baby into your cunt.

He pushes further, and you’re trying to suck him in—the girth and length of him is always, always too much for your pussy. In every sense of the word, Toji is mountainous.

“Not tonight, honey,” he comforts you, brushing your hair away from your face, “not tonight—hnng—I’m fuckin’ a baby into you. Wouldn’t ya like that?”

Your wide eyes meet his narrowed ones, and you’re sure that this man is a creature entirely separate from the one you’ve had every other month. Tonight, he’s in his true form, he’s the fucking monster that he’s pretended not to be every other time he’s been graced with your soft, smooth presence.

“Yes,” you hiss, rocked by the movement of his hips, as he makes it halfway, staring down at your face like he’s struggling not to lost what’s left of his control and brutalize you. He twitches inside you at your yes, and there’s no more holding back for him.

Not if you—

“Want—Want you to fuck a baby into me—” you moan out, lost in pleasure, in your own storm.

It’s not so different than Toji’s.

And Toji almost fucking cums inside you right there, stilling entirely as he bottoms out. He takes a shallow, shaking breath, before cementing a hand to the top of your wooden headboard so that he doesn’t hurt you.

He wants to hurt you, and he wants to breed you, mark you as his own so that every other fucking man that looks at you knows exactly who you belong to.

Oh, please, give me mercy no more.

It’s a kindness you can’t afford.

He’s going to do it, and you’re going to let him. He moves inside you brutally, rocking the bed with every slam of his hips against yours.

You’re crying out to him, to God, tears streaming down your face, as you’re well aware that Toji’s fucking ruining your pussy. The hot wax on your chest is transferring over to his, and the heat of your combined bodies moving keeps it from ever drying fully.

It’s hot and frenzied, you’re moaning perfectly beneath him. His hands find their way to the backs of your knees, slamming them down against the mattress as he puts you into the mating press that you’re meant to be in when you’re bred by a beast like him.

“You’re gonna make me a fuckin’ daddy,” he growls to you between thrusts, voice lower and huskier and more strained than you’ve ever heard it before.

“You’re gonna take every fuckin’ drop I give you—all fuckin’ night—gonna’ let me get you pregnant, fill you up with my fuckin’ kids and then raise ‘em for me, aren’t you?”

The headboard slams against the wall behind you, and you cry from pleasure alone. The lights aren’t coming back on, and you want to be lost in the darkness of him, with him.

Thunder rolls and crashes—you’re sure the sky is going to open up at any second and swallow you whole—that lightning will come through the roof and strike you both dead.

God’s angry with you. He’s angry that you’re doing precisely what you were always meant to do.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you scream out, as he bites down on your throat again.

His sweat mingles with yours, and your hips ache from the severe angle that he’s fucking you in, but you know that he’s more a beast than a man right now, that any resistance against him would only prove fatal for you, so you stay like that. With your legs hiked up over his shoulders, as you claw into him, into anything you can use to hang on for dear life.

He’s going to give you life, and you’re going to let him.

“If it doesn’t take,” he bites you again between his words, “I’ll just be back to fill your cunt up—again,” he punctuates his words with hard thrusts, “again,” another, “and again.”

He shoves his rough fingers into your mouth, gripping your tongue with them while you whimper uselessly and cum involuntarily around his thick cock. You can’t see anything at all except for his eyes, but you know that he can see you.

Any predator can see better in the dark than its prey.

I warn you, baby, each night as sure as you’re born.

You’ll hear me howling outside your door.

You’re convulsing, sucking his fingers until you gag, and he slips them from between your lips. He replaces them with his lips, scarred as they are, as you run your feeble hands up and down his chest.

You feel the scars, the dips and valleys that wouldn’t be there if he were a normal man, and you want his babies to come out just as gnarled as he is.

You want to give him strong fucking babies, so you clench your cunt around his cock as tight as you can. He groans at feeling of you tightening just for him, fucking faster, harder , faster. The headboard might break, your bed might break, and you don’t fucking care.

You want Toji to fuck you full of his babies, and you don’t care about anything else. He moans against the shell of your ear, melding his body so tightly with yours that you aren’t sure where you begin and end, which parts of you are your own, and which are his.

Don’t you hear me howling babe?

“Cum in me—” you’re begging him, locking your legs as tightly as you can, “cum in me— please, Toji—please—”

The sound that he emits is much more a growl than a moan, much more beast than man, as his nails claw into the plump skin of your thighs and draw blood.

“You want my fuckin’ babies—yeah, ya’ fuckin’ do,” he holds you entirely still, planting you to the mattress as he groans and cums inside your cunt, as deep as he can possibly bury himself inside you, “fuckin’ take it— fuckin’ take ‘em— fuck.”

Don’t you hear me howling, babe?

[septembersummer]

DR September Mistress Daddy, I have a request..! Vamp!Gojo fic pleeeease. Idc what you do with it, just... please, uwu.

VAMP GOJO VAMP GOJO VAMP GOJO VAMP—

Winter: chapter 1

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

summary: vamp!gojo x human!reader where y/n is pretty sure her favorite regular is a vampire.

wc: 3k

cw: gojo satoru being intimidating, smut (in future chapters), a coffee shop au lmao, THIS GETS PRETTY DARK IN LATER CHAPTERS

A/N’s: i’m a sucker for twilight vampire shit and thus this is gonna be more than a one shot. hope y’all don’t mind lmao

links: Ao3, Hijiki’s Tumblr (my illustrator), discord (18+)

request/ask me anything hehe

The devil isn’t a big, scarred man in a trench coat waiting in a dark alley to steal you away, to corrupt you. He isn’t the subject of your grandparents’ fears, tattooed and pierced through every hole with a cigarette in his mouth. He isn’t mean, he isn’t cruel.

Not at first.

He doesn’t scare you, isn’t intimidating in any way that you dislike. He’s talkative, energetic, and a bit too flirty.

The devil smiles.

He smiles beautifully with rows of gleaming, white teeth the entire time he talks to you. Only a couple of them are sharper than they should be.

He’s charming, disarms you with ease, leaves you vulnerable and worse than that, comfortable in your vulnerability with him.

He comes to your coffee shop almost every morning for six months, and you get used to him as the seasons change, and he doesn’t.

He orders the worst fucking drinks you’ve ever heard of, and he grins at you while you struggle to fit that many shots of espresso in one cup, along with the horrific amount of cream and sugar that he likes.

He seems to get off on making you struggle, in a fun way that makes him your favorite regular customer.

And you’re pretty sure that his kind doesn’t even like coffee, so you used to be suspicious as to why he’s always here, but you’ve resigned yourself to thinking that he might just like the company, or that he might just like harassing you when he’s bored.

When you live that long, you’re sure to get bored eventually, right?

He’s just bored– it’s better than… any other alternative that would explain his presence here every day.

As the white-haired monster of a man with the god-awful coffee orders comes into your shop before the sun’s risen on the coldest day of Winter, you remember the way you felt the first time you ever saw him.

He looks like the season, like he was born from snow, carved out of ice and tossed into your lap to deal with.

Maybe he was– you’re not sure how their kind operates, in that regard. But you are certain of one thing, as he comes to the counter, grinning and staring at you through sunglasses that are far too dark for any normal person to reasonably be able to see through.

He’s no normal person at all, nothing close. This man is a vampire, you’re almost certain.

“Hey, sweets,” he says, smirking, always coming up with a new pet name for you when he sees you, “long time no see.”

You aren’t sure if he’s the first vampire you’ve ever met before. They’re rare in society these days, and most of them blend in well, after many of their kind opted not to produce any offspring in hopes of letting humanity flourish.

It was an apology for the way that humans were treated before the two species came to a tentative truce, like pets, sentient blood bags— the bottom of the food chain.

You wonder if this man was there for it, because if you’ve ever met a person that could be a vampire as old as time itself, it’s him.

“Mhm,” you hum in response with a small eyeroll, knowing damn well that you saw him yesterday. He’s so smiley, warm and kind, easygoing.

“And what would you like to torture me with today, Gojo?” You ask, leaning over the wooden counter in his direction.

His eyes crinkle when he smiles at you. Beautiful as always.

Other people treat him differently than you do. You’ve seen it on the days that he opts to come in later in the morning when he isn’t your only customer.

They can see it as plainly as you can, the otherness about him, and it makes them afraid of him. Openly, at that, not that he ever seems to mind when normal people move away from him with barely concealed fear in their eyes.

His only grins wider. He doesn’t have a care in the world for the way that ruddy-faced, warm-blooded people like you see him.

It’s not like he can hide what he is, nor tries to. His snowy white hair always looks perfectly messy, skin like unblemished porcelain, and if they saw his eyes– they’d faint. Try as you might, you’ve never seen the fangs.

You’ve only seen glimpses of the eyes when he looks at you over the rim of his sunglasses suggestively, usually when you follow a ludicrous order especially well, but they’re so far from human. His eyelashes match his hair, perfectly white with a silvery tinge to them, but his eyes– they’re something else entirely.

“Just an iced white mocha,” he says, and his grin grows wider, wider, “extra sweet, add a little raspberry for me.”

You cock your head to the side, “That’s it? Where are the fifteen shots of espresso and hot-cold foam?”

He’s really asked you for that before, and you’ve become accustomed to your daily challenge from him. You’re pretty sure that he doesn’t even drink them, that he just takes a sip to placate you and then goes about his day, whatever he does.

It’s more like he’s just… testing you , toying with you . And for what reason? You’ll probably never know. You know nothing about him as it is.

Only his last name, and that he likes to tease.

“I don’t want anything serious today, babe,” he replies flirtatiously, the way he always does, leaning back in his chair lazily, spreading out his long legs on either side of himself.

You hum and start making a suspiciously normal raspberry white mocha, “You sick or something? I’m almost disappointed.”

Do vampires get sick? You don’t know. You won’t ask.

He chuckles, “Nah, just thought I’d give you a break for once. You’ve been good for months.”

You want to bristle at his phrasing, but you don’t show it.

It’s snowing outside, though it feels like he’s brought the Winter inside with him this time. You shiver slightly, as it feels like there’s a cold chill following you, but you ignore it like you usually do when he’s here alone with you.

When he enters the coffee shop, it feels ten times smaller, and about three times colder. It’s worse when you’re alone with him than if you’re with others, but you aren’t afraid of him in that regard.

Because, despite yourself and your best interests, you’ve become comfortable in the vulnerability of being alone here with him when it’s still dark out so early in the morning.

He’s here every day, he’s not going to do anything today that he couldn’t have done yesterday, the day before that.

And yet the human part of you feels… a little off this morning.

“It’s cold today,” you murmur, looking out the big glass windows at the front of the cafe to watch the snowfall through the warm lighting provided by the street lamp outside.

It’s still dark out, but it always is when he comes here. He still wears those small, round-rimmed sunglasses even before the sun’s risen.

Again, he doesn’t even try to hide what he is.

“Really? Didn’t notice,” he says, looking out at the snow as if it’s never occurred to him that you’d feel the cold.

He’s dressed in a black turtleneck underneath a long coat, with a silver chain around his neck. From the chain dangles a cross, almost as if to taunt you. Always dressed warmly, never seems cold.

Vampire.

You snort, “You don’t even try to hide it, huh?”

It’s the first time you’ve brought up what you both know is true. Months have passed, seasons have changed, and you’ve never acknowledged it.

But with his flirting, his jokes, his lax, carefree demeanor, you’re comfortable with him.

Maybe a little too comfortable.

“Hide what?” He murmurs playfully, and you startle out of your fucking skin.

You never saw him move, never saw him blink, but his words ghost across your earlobe, making goosebumps prickle up all over your skin.

He is warm, apparently, and you can feel said warmth radiating off his chest because he’s caging you against the counter, an arm on either side of your much smaller frame.

“What are you— G-Gojo,” you huff, trying to disguise the way your breaths fall much faster, that your heart is pounding in your chest.

He doesn’t let you move from his grasp, as you realize just how tall he is. He’s the tallest man you’ve ever met, could easily rest his chin on the top of your head, and he’d probably have to bend down to do so.

“Go on, don’t be shy,” he hums flirtatiously, “tell me what you think I am.”

He toys with a strand of your hair, looping it around his finger before letting it fall across your face. Your cheeks feel hot, and you feel bothered.

“N-Nothing,” you splutter out, suddenly nervous at this sort of teasing, “can you– go back to your side, please.”

“No.”

“Gojo,” you complain, turning around to face him, a mistake.

“Satoru,” he corrects you smoothly, now mere inches from your lips when he speaks.

He’s leaning over you, horrifyingly close, as the espresso machine finishes its job behind you rather noisily. He smells amazing, so much better than the coffee, as his eyes peer down into yours.

It’s the first time you’ve seen them without his glasses, now that he’s gone so far as to cross the forbidden boundary between the two of you.

As stupid as it seems, the little counter dividing the two of you had made you feel safe with him . It was a line that he never crossed until you crossed some forbidden line with him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean… anything,” you mumble, staring into eyes that look like they’re made of starlight and the sea, trembling.

They’re a lot better up close, a lot brighter. You feel vaguely hypnotized by him when you stare into the glacial orbs lined with thick, white lashes. Any animal planet documentary would tell you that something isn’t that beautifully colorful unless it’s deadly.

Too beautiful, too perfect, not human, and too close.

Those are all the things that he is. What Gojo isn’t is relenting.

“That’s alright, babe,” he purrs, stroking your hair, petting you, as he seems to fix his mask of aloof coolness in an instant, “just don’t make accusations like that unless you really mean it, yeah? Could be dangerous for you if it was someone other than me.”

Threatening, still grinning like a cheshire cat, though he’s a bit more reptilian up close.

“I-I didn’t mean anything. Is that— Are you threatening me?” You ask nervously, pretending it’s a joke.

It’s not.

Of course it’s a threat, and of course you’re a fucking idiot for thinking that just because this vampire’s been nice to you for months means that you’re friends.

You two are friends as much as a panther can be friends with a deer when it’s waiting for a kill, stalking it from a treetop for months, and months, and months. The panther knows its place at the top of the food chain, you’re the one that forgot your own.

“Call me Satoru,” he demands with a slight glare in your direction, rather unkind now that you’ve failed to follow his instructions, “and not unless it needs to be.”

He winks at you once in your silence, smirking, before he walks back over to the other side of the counter with his hands in his pockets.

“Keep the coffee for yourself. I know you like those.”

“Satoru– I-“

He gives you a grin and fixes his little sunglasses back on his face, but for a second when you catch a glimpse of his eyes, you could swear that they aren’t shockingly, magnificently blue anymore.

No, they’re red. Bright, vivid rubies, even more beautiful than when they’re cerulean. You don’t comment on it, you don’t say a word.

You tremble, and you take a sip of the mocha that he had you make for yourself, because it’s your favorite, and because you need to stop staring and stuttering.

He watches your lips, rewarding you with a heated glance when you listen to him well, the way that he likes. It makes you feel warm to your core, despite the fear you now feel towards him.

He really shouldn’t know what your favorite drink is, you’ve never told him, but he does.

You wish that the devil was a little more visible amongst a crowd, or that he could at least have the decency to behave like it, rather than befriend you until you’re complacent, perfectly cozy with him for whenever he decides to sink his teeth into your flesh.

You shiver once. It feels like there’s another cold draft in the room, small as it is.

Gojo gives an arrogant chuckle in your direction, “I’ll see ya later, babe.”

When he leaves, the room feels ten times larger, and your knees almost buckle.

[septembersummer]

Ｓｗｅｅｔ Ｔｏｏｔｈ

happy birthday gojo <3

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

content: reader gives gojo a happy birthday present at work even though she’s married to ~someone else~

wc: 3.8k

cw: smut, cheating, office sex, food play (icing), hickeys, being on the phone during sex, exhibitionism, almost being caught, creampies, oral, mild degradation

A/n’s: happy birthday gojoooo

cross posted on Ao3 (along with my other works if you’re interested)

feel free to dm me requests if you have them tehe

How you ended up in charge of the birthday party for Gojo Satoru, you’re unsure. It’s probably because of all your coworkers, you’re the one that likes him that most.

Sure, he’s a little annoying at times, but his particular brand of annoying is sort of fun, at least for you.

It’s just a small work party, because he insists on being extra in all facets of life, and because you’re nice to a fault. You bought a strawberry cake, one with pink frosting and strawberries inside.

It looks more like a Valentine’s Day cake than a birthday cake, which makes your cheeks a little warm, but you brush that intrusive thought aside.

You’re married after all, and not to your coworker– despite how attractive you might find him.

He’s infinitely powerful, infinitely rich, and you’re sure that beneath those washboard abs he’s…

You don’t let yourself think about it too much in the daytime.

It doesn’t help that he always seems to favor you over other people, too. He’ll go out of his way to talk to you for longer than he needs to, he’ll offer to take you on missions that are way above your paygrade, just because you look bored.

You never take him up on those offers, but you certainly think about them in the safety of your own home after your husband’s long fallen asleep.

He’s attractive, and charming, and so what– it doesn’t matter.

He’s also incredibly hard to surprise, as he comes into the break room right when you’re adding some little strawberry slices to the top of the cake you got.

It was already cute, but you like to put in an extra effort when it comes to him, for no reason other than your friendship. And that’s all it is, a friendship. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Gojo,” you whine as he steps inside, covering up your work with your body as best you can, “you’re supposed to be on a mission.”

You don’t have to ask if it’s him. His presence is unmistakable, his cursed energy so immense that you feel it before he ever reaches the building, much less the same room as you. It’s dizzying, suffocating.

“And you’re keeping secrets from me, hm?” He leans in close to you, and you’re so instantly flustered by his proximity that you forget what you’re supposed to be hiding, instantly moving out of his way with a thick swallow, flushed cheeks.

“Is it Valentine’s Day already?” He asks with a blank face, stealing a strawberry from your bowl of them.

“It’s your birthday! And this is the sweetest looking one they had–”

He chuckles, “For real? Damn, I guess I forgot.”

You wait for him to move away from you, but he doesn’t. He just stays where he stands right next to you, and he’s blindfolded, but you’re well aware that he’s looking right at you.

He never reveals just how much he can see through the blindfold, but his gaze is piercing– it shoots through it and sends sparks right to the center of your thighs.

He smells nice, too, like he always does. He wears the most expensive cologne, uses the nicest shampoo you’ve never heard of before, always so tantalizing that it’s unfair.

If you’d met him before you met your husband, something would’ve happened between the two of you– you’re certain of it.

But that doesn’t matter, so you tut disapprovingly as he swipes a finger through the strawberry frosting, and you think he’s going to taste it for himself.

Instead he moves his other hand to your cheeks, squeezing them so that you let out a startled gasp, and he presses a finger between your lips.

You’re fucking shocked at his brazen behavior– he’s never touched you before, and his Infinity is off, and your heart threatens to shoot out of your chest as you instinctively suck his digit clean, tasting nothing but sugar and strawberries on your tongue.

He lingers with a thumb on your bottom lip for a second, and you’re sure that he can feel the heat radiating from your cheeks as he lets go.

As easy as it comes, he brushes past it, “How’d you get stuck on birthday duty?” He asks, continuing to swipe strawberries right in front of you.

You’re flustered, but you manage a reply, “Uh– Ah, I signed up for it, ‘cause we’re friends.”

He chews with a grin, staring at you as you get embarrassed by your sudden declaration. How he’s immune to embarrassment, you’re entirely unsure, but you aren’t.

You stammer, “I-I mean work friends, of course, not– like anything weird–”

Apparently, you’re only making this worse for yourself.

“It’s not ‘cause you have a crush on me?” He asks so openly that you stop in your tracks, smile falling instantly, as you don a mask of sheer shock.

To call it a crush would be an overstatement. Of course you don’t have a crush on Gojo Satoru– you’re moderately happily married, of course, or at least somewhat happily married.

All marriages have rough patches, and the small rut you’re going through isn’t any of his business.

If you think about him when you’re alone in the shower sometimes, that’s between you and the shampoo bottles.

He offers you another taste of the icing off his finger, and you refuse it this time, waving a hand in front of yourself.

“Gojo, I’m married,” you remind him, but it doesn’t seem like he’s forgotten, “and even if I wasn’t, it’s not–”

He moves a step closer, and he towers over you. He rubs his thumb across your bottom lip again, and you’re powerless to stop him, so you accept the sweetness into your mouth for him. His lips curve up into a devilish smirk.

“You can call me Satoru,” he offers quietly, pulling his mask down so that you’re faced with the task of meeting his gaze.

It’s blinding. Light reflects off of his eyes like they’re made of starlight themselves, and you’re powerless to its effect on your body.

“That– This seems inappropriate,” you mumble, as he continues to offer you sweet things, parting your lips for you when you’re being a little uncooperative.

“Well, it’s my birthday,” he argues playfully, and he’s cupping your cheeks now, far too close, he smells far too nice, and everything tastes so saccharinely sweet on your tongue, “what if I wanted you as a present?”

He leans down over you, as you wrap your fingers around his wrists feebly to try and stop whatever is happening here. Your wedding ring is still there on your ring finger, you can feel it– the vows that you made, the vows that you shouldn’t break, even if your marriage hasn’t been the hottest as of late.

“We can’t,” you mumble, and you’re arguing with yourself at this point. The hunger inside you is blossoming, and it’s getting harder to resist by the second, “my husband–”

“He’d never know,” Satoru murmurs, moving so that his breaths hit the shell of your ear, your breath hitches in your throat, “unless you wanted him to. I’d take good care of you if you ever decided to ditch him, you know?”

He takes your hand in his, dipping your fingers in frosting before bringing them to his lips, sucking the digits and swirling his tongue across your skin, and the electricity between your thighs is pulsing, hot, needing at the slippery smoothness of his tongue.

“He doesn’t even know you’re a sorcerer,” Satoru coos, as if you’re some injured creature that needs taking care of.

“And he doesn’t know the way that you look at me when no one else is around, but I know. I see it. I can take care of you, and he’ll never know the difference, only that you come home a little more sated today.”

Your face couldn’t get any hotter– you feel feverishly warm all over, and you find yourself leaning into his touch whether you want to or not. It’s subconscious, the desire that’s been lurking in the back of your mind since you first saw Gojo Satoru.

You must be dreaming, or under the spell of an Incubus, because there’s nothing at all that makes you want to stop what’s happening here. Your moral compass is skewed, and it’s pointing towards Satoru, true north.

You’ve always wanted him.

The words ring through your brain as if he’s implanted them there himself.

You’re going to say no again when he kisses you, lips so smooth and soft. He tastes like berries and sugar, and you’re not kissing back, but you want to. If you moved with him a little, your husband would never know– right?

And you can stop it right after.

One kiss back, and Satoru sighs against your lips, before taking the opportunity to deepen it. It’s your fault– you gave him permission.

The wedding ring on your finger feels like it’s going to burn through your skin, as you part your lips to let Satoru’s saccharine, silver tongue into your mouth to press against your own.

Your traitorous body releases a soft, shivering moan when his hands find your waist and tug your body flush against his. His Infinity is off for you, and he’s so warm beneath it, smells so lovely, and tastes even better.

“Wait,” you come to your senses when your hand accidentally makes contact with the little cake that’s now smudged all over due to Satoru’s childlike behavior with it, “Satoru– we’re in the break room, and we can’t.”

He lifts you up on the counter, and you squeak in protest, but there’s nothing you can do. He’s taller, stronger, faster than you, and you want it from him.

You’ve been thinking about this almost every night since you started working as a sorcerer, and you’re at least halfway convinced that you must be dreaming.

It can’t be wrong if it’s just a dream.

He pushes your skirt up to bunch around your hips, as you kiss him back, now far too open and unashamed of what’s clearly going to happen, what was always going to happen.

His lips skim your neck, and you’re shivering from the top of your head to the soles of your feet at the newfound sensitivity that he draws from you.

You’ve never been this needy for your husband, but you don’t want to think about him right now.

“The door’s locked,” he coos against the crook of your neck, and you reflexively groan at the sound of his voice, now so husky and rough with desire for you, “no one will ever know, baby. Except you,” he kisses you, before his lips curve up into a feline smile, “and me.”

His desiring you is everything you’ve secretly fantasized about for the past few months. The thought of him being unable to hold himself back from touching you, that he’s only invited you on his missions for the chance to get you alone and desperate, like you are now.

He feels too real for it to be a dream, but it must be, because he’s giving you everything that you’ve desired since you first laid eyes on him.

Your shirt’s unbuttoned– you aren’t even sure when he did that, but he’s overtaking your body like he’s casted a spell when you weren’t paying attention, and even if you fight it– you want to lose yourself down the rabbit hole of him.

He dips his finger back in frosting, and then he drags it down your bare chest, not minding that some gets on your bra, on your skin.

“Satoru!” You whine, trying to close your legs, but he doesn’t let you. He follows the frosting with his tongue, groaning against your skin, as you moan and thread your fingers through his hair, “Oh– you’re making a mess.”

He pulls your tits out of your bra without bothering to unhook it, pulling a nipple into his mouth, and then the other one, sucking and teasing it with his teeth just gently enough that you have to hold back a loud, strangled moan.

“Fuck, it’s my birthday isn’t it,” he chuckles against your skin before moving lower, ducking his head underneath your skirt, “I should get to have a treat, right?”

His breath fans your sex through your panties, and you might combust right then. You need to throw your wedding ring away, pretend the wedding never happened, because you’re threading your fingers through his hair, urging him to go further in and taste you like he wants to.

He kisses your pussy through your panties, before tasting the wet spot you’ve already left there for him, and you know you’re a goner.

It’s too late for you when he slides your panties to the side and presses a kiss to your pussy– you just hope that no one walks in right now to see you with smudged icing between your tits, the birthday boy between your thighs.

“You’re fuckin’ sweeter than the strawberries,” he groans against your pussy, as you try to fight the urge to rut your hips forward and meet his sloppy tongue when he draws patterns over your clit over and over that make you see stars in the backs of your eyes.

“They’re rolling back in your head, as you have to clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle the moans that will come forth if you let them.

He’s such an expert with your body, and he barely knows it– he’s never seen you naked before right now, never seen you in any state of arousal, and he’s slipping his tongue through the folds of your pussy like he’s already mapped the place out a thousand times in his head.

Maybe he has.

The thought of Satoru lusting for you just as much as you’ve been lusting for him throws you over the edge, and you’re clamping your slick thighs down around his head, as he groans against your clit, still giving it that playful, yet rough treatment that you love.

You shamelessly grind out your orgasm against his lips– there’s no shame left in you, only need.

“Ah– Ah,” you groan, as he finally relents after you’ve given him everything in you.

He stands back up to his full height, before tugging you forward, slotting his lips with yours greedily.

His clothed erection brushes against your too sensitive pussy, and he ruts against you without a care in the world for the fact that you’re married, that you’re at work, that you’ll have to see each other again tomorrow after this and pretend it never happened.

Does he care? You can’t tell. He’s unreadable as always.

You taste yourself on his tongue, and you don’t mind, as he frees his length from his pants. The clatter of his expensive belt coming undone almost brings you back to the real world and the knowledge that you should be stopping this, but you aren’t.

You don’t want to stop this.

“Fuck,” he groans against your lips, as the tip of his cock presses against your entrance, slipping through the wetness that’s already there for him and him alone, “I’ve wanted to fuck you since your first day here, haha– you know that?”

His eyes meet yours, as both of your lips part in a soft hiss– he’s sliding into you, and you’re letting him, encouraging him, despite the shame and guilt that you’ll feel sooner rather than later, but you’d rather feel that when he isn’t sliding through your resistance so perfectly, like his body was made for yours.

The weight of his cock inside you is so delicious– it’s so much bigger than anyone you’ve had before.

He’s going to ruin you, right here at work, next to the little cake you were meant to eat with him later so innocently.

Now, there’s nothing innocent about it. He bottoms out inside you, and you can tell from his sharp exhale and grip on the counter beneath you that he’s trying to hold back from fucking into you so hard that it would hurt you.

You want him to. Fuck the consequences, fuck that he isn’t wearing a condom, and fuck that he’s definitely going to ruin your pussy beyond repair. You want him to.

“S’fucking tight,” he groans into the crook of your neck, moving shallowing, trying his hardest to hold back.

“Fuck me, Satoru,” you whimper, moving your hips back and forth slightly, and he groans before cementing them in place with his big hands. He’s so strong– it’s so easy for him to hold you still and rut into you.

He chuckles at your enthusiasm, as he starts to move inside you, and it’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before. The deep rumbles of his chest, the sighs he lets out at the way you’re squeezing around his cock so perfectly.

“Ah– Ha,” he moans against your sensitive skin, before latching his teeth down on your neck for a second too long.

You push against his chest weakly, “Don’t– Don’t leave marks,” you whimper, but it’s futile.

“Why?” He hisses against your earlobe, before sucking it into his mouth as he fills you fuller than you’ve ever been before.

“Don’t want your little husband to know who fucks you best?”

“N-No,” you aren’t arguing, you’re agreeing. Satoru knows that he fucks you better, that you haven’t ever felt pleasure like this before, that you’re more likely to come back to him for more of it than you are to stay away from him afterwards.

“F-Fuck,” he grinds his hips against yours, buried to the hilt, “just as fuckin’ tight as I imagined– just as needy– you’re so needy, baby. Let me help you.”

He massages your clit with just the right amount of pressure, and he’s even better than in your fantasies.

You weren’t doing him justice when you were imagining him like this late at night with your hand slipped into your panties– he’s better– his cock is bigger, and he fucks you like he wants to keep you forever.

“Should just let me fuck you like this every day,” he smirks against your neck before moving to kiss your lips again, as you’re spiralling, almost going over the edge again. He stuffs his fingers into your mouth to quiet you, and you’re right there.

Your phone rings right where it was discarded on the counter, and you instinctively know that it’s your husband. Both of you still entirely, as Satoru pulls out of you– you hiss at the loss of his length inside you, before you’re maneuvered over onto your stomach with your tits pressed against the cool countertop, and Satoru’s picking up your phone.

Your eyes widen drastically as he answers the call, all the while he’s slipping his cock back inside of you so easily. Your essence drips down your thighs, the proof of how much you enjoy it, even if you try to pretend that you don’t.

“Oh, hey,” he says, so nonchalantly, as though he isn’t buried deep inside your pussy, “oh, yeah– she’s sort of busy right now, haha.”

Satoru laughs, and he sounds sinister to you, even though he’s just the same as always. Maybe you’re seeing him in a new light after he edged you to answer the call from your husband.

You can only hope that he doesn’t—

“Oh, here she is,” Satoru says easily, slipping the phone down to your ear. You can only hope that the man on the other side of the call can’t hear the slapping sounds of Satoru roughly pounding into you.

“H-Hey,” you stutter out, voice staccato from the way that Satoru’s holding you down against the countertop with one hand so that he can freely fuck into you, “I’m uh– huh– I’m sort of– ah– busy right now–”

“Oh, okay,” your husband says, cluelessly, “well, I’m going to be busy tonight, so don’t worry about dinner.” He sounds like he doesn’t care at all that you’re currently being fucked, not that he’d know.

And it’s so unfortunate that you’re reaching the edge again at the words you hear, mixed with the dark chuckle of the man behind you.

“Oh–Oh,” you moan, biting your lip to try and stave off the orgasm that you know is coming, “that’s fine–ah!”

You quiver and shake, as Satoru brings his hand beneath you to massage your clit while he fucks you, “I need– to– to come–too go—“

Your words are slurred and jarred, but it’s okay– your husband isn’t paying attention.

“Yeah, you sound busy,” he says brusquely, eager to end the call. He’s always eager for it to end these days.

You meet your end– it’s inevitable, “L-Love you– bye– ha–”

The words are slurred as pleasure shakes you from your core, and you’re cumming before you even get to end the call, but he ends it for you while you’re in the throes of passion, shattering around Satoru’s cock as quietly as you can manage.

It’s not quiet enough. Someone will have heard, and you know that, and Satoru seems to know that by the way that he’s speeding up.

“Fuck– I was really gonna pull out,” he rasps between thrusts, “but now– fuck, now I think I’m gonna fill you up– think I’m gonna cum inside–”

“W-Wait,” you squeak, but it’s useless. You’re too far gone, and you want him to cum inside you, so desperately, you want it.

“It’s my birthday, ha,” he chuckles, pounding harder, and he’s close.

You can tell from the way that his breaths are getting quicker– he’s nearly panting, not holding back the small moans that he wants to let out, brought on by the way that you’re taking him so nicely.

“C-Cum inside me,” you splutter out, and he listens, cementing his hips to your ass in time with his orgasm.

He’s right against your cervix, spilling so much cum inside of you that it’s obscene– you can feel him warming you from the inside out, as his cock jumps and twitches with pleasure. He groans out your name as he grinds out every drop of cum inside him.

“Fucking finally,” he murmurs, proving your thoughts right that this was planned, before stilling for a second.

You know what that means.

Both of you stand and throw your clothes back on as hastily as possible.

You cringe at the feeling of his molten hot cum dripping down your bare thighs, as you’re brought back upright. He’s fixed himself quicker than you, somehow, and he adjusts your hair, fixes your skirt back while he gives you a goofy, sated grin.

Someone tries to open the door, and you want to run away and hide. It definitely looks and smells like sex in here, and there’s a hickie on your neck.

“Thanks for the gift, babe,” he kisses you on the lips once swiftly, “can’t wait for next year.”

He winks, and cum drips down your thighs, and you know that you’ll give him just that.

[septembersummer]

𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 ♡

Chapter 2: Midnight

ch. 1

!! 18+ Minors DNI !!

summary: vamp!gojo visits you at night sometimes, not that you’d know about that.

cw: SOMNO, very dub/con, vampire style mind manipulation

wc: 3k

links: Ao3, @hijiki-heichou (banner art 🖤), discord (18+)

request/ama!

Satoru is old as fuck, and when you’re old as fuck but never aging, you get bored. If there’s one thing that Satoru feels almost as much as he feels thirst, it’s boredom.

Which is why, every once in a while, he gives himself the opportunity of seeing what you do when you’re not at work. He doesn’t like to think that he’s a creep, really, or that there’s anything wrong with him coming to check up on you when you aren’t aware that he’s there.

He’s just a higher being than you. He’ll outlive you a hundred times. If he sees you more like a pet than a person, it doesn’t really matter.

Your lifespan will be over in the blink of an eye for him, and he’s… mostly alright with that.

Snow hits the top of his head, but he doesn’t feel the temperature, as he easily unlatches your window, before pushing it up quietly.

You’re fast asleep now, and you really need to get better locks on your windows. He tuts disapprovingly at your sleeping form, like he usually does on the off chance that he stops by here to see what you’re up to.

You’re a curiosity to him, a warm, snoozing enigma that he’s been interested in for whatever reason.

It might be because you remind him of Suguru, it might be that your blood smells sweeter than any he’s ever tasted before, or it might just be that he likes your personality a bit more than he’s ever liked a human’s.

Either way, he’s become somewhat invested in his little experiment.

He presses his finger to the center of your forehead, making sure that you stay fast asleep while he’s here. He overloads your brain just enough that it relents and falls into a deeper sleep to repair itself.

It’s a kindness– you’re a restless sleeper unless he stops by. He can tell by the bags under your eyes when you work so early in the mornings.

You’re halfway covered up, sleeping on your back with your head turned to the left. Moonlight illuminates the slope of your jawline, down the hollow of your throat.

Satoru can see your blood pulsing beneath the skin, as he runs his finger along the sharp edge of your jawline, trailing it down your throat until he brushes your collarbone.

You’re quite pretty like this, so undisturbed in your sleep, taking deep, relaxed breaths. There’s no tension in your frame, like there would normally be if you were aware that he was here.

He considers waking you as a surprise, just to see the startled face you’d make. He’d taste your fear in the air, hear the adrenaline pumping through your virgin veins.

But that would ruin his experiment too soon, and then he’d be bored again.

He feels a throbbing sensation in his temple, feels his jaw clench with desire for you. Not for your body, but for the blood he can see pulsing through you.

With his glasses off, it’s like he can see through you, and you make a beautiful portrait of crimson blood.

Your breaths start to fall a bit faster, you rustle in your sleep, and your heart rate speeds up ever so slightly. Lips parted, you make a soft, gasping noise.

And then Satoru’s momentarily tempted by your body, because you spread your knees further apart lazily, such a deep sleeper when he’s around to help you. He cocks his head to the side, still just observing, as he sits on the edge of your bed.

He’s never spent this much time with a human before, and he’s certainly never liked one as much as he’s liked you, so he’s at something of a crossroad on the topic of what to do with you.

Maybe he’ll drink you dry tonight, end the fun while he’s ahead. It’s been tempting him for months, the way that you smell.

Your pheromones, your blood, it’s all so intoxicating to him, special, different. His teeth sharpen when he’s around you, and he has to fight the primal urge to overtake you, drink from you until you’re cold and limp in his arms.

If you were anyone else, he’d have killed you months ago. Probably on the first day he saw you. He would’ve made it special— tied you up to a cross with red rope and drained you like a virgin sacrifice.

But you were so warm and welcoming when he first saw you, even with those catlike eyes that remind him of someone he lost so long ago.

Your scent lured him into the coffee shop, so early in the morning. Dusk hadn’t broken yet, and he was bored.

Your eyes met his, lips curved into a smile as a red flush settled on your cheeks.

“Good mornin’, welcome in,” you hummed sleepily, voice dripping with honey, and your eyes reminded him of Suguru, your hips reminded him that he’s a man.

He couldn’t kill you.

He wonders if he can now.

He leans down over you, eyes skimming the smooth planes of your throat. He swallows hard, as his breaths fall heavier, his own pulse quickens in anticipation.

Whether it’s lust or bloodlust, he can’t tell anymore, which is what makes you so enthralling to him even after watching you for so long.

His lips brush your pulse point, and his canine teeth are as sharp as they get, ready to take the kill.

He opens his mouth, fanning his warm breath across your throat, right before his teeth pierce your smooth, untouched skin. He needs to, he wants to–

“Satoru,” you mumble, and he stills entirely, eyes wide with shock.

He sits up quickly, preparing to warp the fuck away from you, as he looks down at your form. You shouldn’t be able to wake up, you couldn’t, there’s no fucking way.

You shift again, rubbing your thighs together, and you let out a soft gasp.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Satoru murmurs with a wry chuckle, slumping over as he relaxes.

You’re dreaming, vividly at that. He’s thrilled that you’re not awake, before he’s curious as to why you’re dreaming of him, gasping like that so quietly every once in a while.

He sits back on the edge of your bed, all thoughts of killing you there leave his mind.

Now he’s curious about you again. This is how you stay alive every time– he thinks he’s figured you out, explored all the nooks and crannies of your inferior being, and then you surprise him again.

Every single time.

Tonight’s no different, and drinking you dry can wait, because you’re rubbing your plush thighs together and dreaming of him.

Satoru’s ego couldn’t get any bigger, and neither could his cock.

“Thought I scared you earlier,” Satoru murmurs to you, brushing a strand of your hair off your face, “and now you’re having a wet dream about me?”

He teases you, and he hopes that he’s teasing you in your dreams, too. You lean into his touch, even in your sleep, and all thoughts of killing you are long gone. You moan softly for him, and he’s getting more tempted by your body.

You’re having a wet dream about him, aren’t you? If anything, it would be cruel of him to leave you on the edge like this.

And it doesn’t really matter what he does to you– you’re just like the other humans, fragile, breakable, and eventually forgettable.

Even if he’s finding it more and more difficult to see you that way.

He slips his hand between your breasts, skating over your stomach until he reaches the hem of your panties beneath the covers. He won’t fuck you like this, and he could say it’s because it would be morally bankrupt to do so.

But it’s more so because he wants to see the look of fear on your face the first time you try to take his cock. The stuttering, the stammering, the

“you’re going to tear me in half, Satoru, please–”

He likes all of that far too much to waste it on you when you’re asleep.

But you’re dreaming of him so vividly, beautifully, that he’ll touch you. You’ve been so good for him for so many months, it’s a reward for you.

You do whatever he asks every day, and you do so while smiling at him, talking to him, offering him with the little smirk that you give when he flirts with you.

You deserve a treat, too.

He brushes the wet spot at the center of your panties with the pads of his fingers, and it only grows bigger with every soft movement he places there. Your hips jar slightly when he does so, as you let out a satisfied breath.

If this is wrong, you should really try to like it less.

Satoru chuckles fondly, as he watches your body react to his teasing. He can only imagine what you’d be like if you were awake for this, blushing and whimpering, mildly afraid but rutting your hips up to meet his every movement regardless.

He slips his hand underneath the waistband of your panties, finding you smooth and slippery with need already.

Your blood rushes faster with every practiced circle he rubs into your clit. He finds a rhythm, gentle and slow, and you’re gasping quietly more often now.

“Mm, Sato…” you trail off, and he waits, stilling his hand to see if he can drawl any other words from you if he teases.

He palms his cock through his pants, and he wishes you were awake so he could finally fuck you. He hasn’t fucked a human in a long, long time– always thought it was a bit beneath him, given his high status as a vampire.

But you make him want to break all the rules, whether he likes it or not. He’ll fuck you eventually, and then he’ll kill you, because this hold you have over him is starting to get irritating.

Or maybe he’s just irritated because he’s so hard, and you’re already so slippery wet, and he wants to feel you.

Wants to debase himself so far as to fuck a blood-bag, pet of a human. And he likes it.

“Please,” you whine out, so quietly that he hardly hears it, but he rolls his eyes and obliges you anyway.

You’re really annoying him like this. He even thinks you’re cute– cuter than most of the vampires he’s been with, and that’s…

A feat in and of itself.

He slips two fingers inside you, before pulling them out, watching a string of your essence connect his digits to your pussy.

For the first time in hundreds of years, he’s tempted to taste a human in an entirely different way than he normally would. It would be filthy and degrading for a vampire of his status, the head of the strongest clan, to taste the arousal of a little mouse like you.

But Satoru’s non-traditional, and there’s no one here to judge him.

He brings his slick fingers to his mouth and tastes you, and he’ll probably be smited straight to hell where he belongs, because he moans at the taste of you.

His cock twitches and aches, he’s so hard, as he stuffs his fingers back inside your cunt and curls them.

Status be damned, he wants to watch you cum.

He keeps his rhythm steady, the one that makes your hips buck up when his fingers brush the sweet spot inside you, and he moves just a little faster.

You whimper, lips parted, a red flush on your cheeks, as you clench around his large fingers over and over again.

“Satoru– ah,” you whine out for him as you reach your peak. He wishes he could read your mind, see the way you’re envisioning him right now.

He’s fairly certain you’ll wake up with the way that you gush around his long fingers, and he doesn’t think he’d care if you did.

His eyes grow wide at the side of your hips rutting against his fingers, the cum dripping out of you and onto your bed sheets until they’re stained darker.

Beautiful– for a pet, you’re so beautiful like this.

He slips his fingers out of you and sucks them clean, because he’s too far gone for his own good.

And then, as he rubs his cock through the fabric of his jeans and pulls up your shirt so he can get a glimpse at the swell of your tits, he has an idea.

You won’t like it, but that doesn’t really matter, because Satoru’s tired of waiting around. As much as he’s tempted to fuck you like this, he doesn’t.

He stands and looks around your apartment for a second, leaving you to sleep there.

He opens his phone, dialing Ijichi’s number, as he looks in your refrigerator. You have hardly anything, you hardly take care of yourself at all.

You haven’t done laundry in forever, and he’s shocked you haven’t wasted away with how little you seem to eat.

He can help you take care of yourself, just another part of his cat and mouse game with you.

“Gojo?” Ijichi asks somewhat nervously.

“Ijichi,” Satoru smirks, leaning against your kitchen counter, “I need you to do something for me.”

“What is it?”

“Don’t get an attitude,” Satoru scolds him with a smile, “I wanna buy a human.”

“What?”

He’s against the practice, really, he is. In any other case, he’d never consider it.

Satoru looks around a second longer, seeing your clothes strewn around your cozy apartment. You definitely need someone to look after you better than this.

It’s for your own good, and his because he’s hedonistic with the things he likes.

He tells Ijichi your full name and birthday, after finding your driver’s license tucked into your purse.

“Pay all her debts off,” he says without worrying for how expensive you’ll be. He can afford you.

“Does she want you to buy her? The higher-ups won’t like–”

“Did I ask about the higher-ups? Just do it.”

“Fine.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, taking a mischievous glance back at your bedroom door before slipping through the window he came in through, “I’ll talk her into it.”

—

“I said, do you wanna go out with me tonight?” Satoru asks, lazily sitting back in his usual seat.

You didn’t expect to see him this morning, nor at all after the strange encounter the two of you had yesterday, but you really shouldn’t be surprised.

He’s bold, doesn’t care if you’re afraid of him.

And he’s asking you out, and you can hardly look at him after the dream you had of him last night. He’d scared you half to death the day before, and you woke up with a wet-spot on your sheets for him so soon after that it should be shameful.

With your cheeks so flushed, you can hardly look at him. It all felt so real, his lips on your neck, his weight on top of you, his fingers pressing into your soaked pussy while you moaned out his name.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you chuckle, trying to remain warm and relaxed with him after his vague threats yesterday.

“Why not?” He asks, prodding further, “you saying you aren’t into me? I’m gonna be heartbroken.”

Your cheeks only feel hotter at his admission, because he must know that you are attracted to him, that you’ve always been attracted to him.

The first time you saw him, you wanted to faint.

You only hope that he doesn’t see how much worse it is today after the wet dream you had of him.

He’s stayed on his side of the counter this morning, and you’re thankful for it. It’s like yesterday never happened, like that dream never happened.

“I don’t really have time for dates, Gojo— Satoru,” you correct yourself, a bit afraid of his reaction if you don’t.

Despite yourself, you’re also… eager to please him.

He grins a bit wider when you call him by his first name, and maybe you’re a little self-destructive and bored with life lately, but you do feel more tempted than you should by his offer.

“You need to have some fun,” he tells you, leaning forward in your direction.

His eyes meet yours over the rim of his glasses, and it feels more intimate than it did yesterday. He looks at you like he knows something that you don’t, and you wonder if he can tell with those eyes that you were dreaming of him, thinking of him more and more lately.

He pervades your thoughts like a tumor, always somewhere in the back of your mind. The closer he gets to you, the more he touches you, the worse it is.

You’ll spill a latte because you’re too busy wondering what he’s doing, trip down the stairs because you’re thinking of how it would feel to kiss him.

Your heart beats a little faster– he can probably see it with those eyes of his, so beautifully blue, like he’s looking into your soul.

“You think so?”

“I do,” he smiles a bit wider, “one date. That’s all I’m asking. Promise you’ll have fun.”

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth, as you hand him a hot chocolate– a shockingly normal one yet again.

His fingers brush yours as he takes it, and you feel… hypnotized by him again, as if he’s giving off some scent that’s imperceptible to you that makes you more willing to do as he asks.

Is it because of what he is? Is it on purpose? You’ve never felt so compelled to listen to another person before, to please another person like you want to please him.

He always talks so much, and you always just listen to him. If you try and ask about his life, he’ll tell you a story about something he saw on t.v. the night before, and you just accept it as an answer, even though it’s not.

“Alright,” you murmur, as the most sane part of your brain argues with you, “one date. That’s all.”

“One date,” he repeats, and the smirk on his face is devious, but you pretend that it’s not.

Because you want to know more about him, what he does when he’s not here. He’s so intrinsically different from you that you can’t help but feel tempted by him, if nothing more than to learn about what he is.

Even if it’s detrimental to you.

One date, that’s all it is. He promised.

[septembersummer]

VICES

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

request: a spicy threesome with Yakuza Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru during an interrogation

wc: 3k

cw: slight dub/con, hair pulling, mouth spitting, oral sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, spit as lubricant, cum as lubricant, degrading, facefucking, double penetration, knife usage (to cut clothes off), bondage, blindfolding, gojo has a tongue ring, geto has a dick piercing

A/N's: i have decided to finally post my fics on tumblr pls let me know if it goes ok love you

pls send me requests if you have any i love them <3

There’s a girl who’s seen something she shouldn’t have.

Her identity doesn’t matter, she doesn’t matter-- what matters is that she’s seen something that she shouldn’t have. Suguru holding a man down to the pavement with his arms behind his back, Satoru’s shoe on top of his face, rolling his head against the pavement until he talks.

It happens a lot in their line of work-- he didn’t pay his dues, and he was being punished for it when a girl walked around the corner. Her eyes locked with Satoru’s, and then Suguru’s, and then she started to run.

She didn’t get far.

And now she finds herself tied to a chair in a dimly lit room that she’s never been to before, while the two well-dressed Yakuza men before her look at her a little too salaciously given what’s happening here. She’s seen things, but she’s blindfolded now, with her arms tied behind her back in the wooden chair she sits on.

“C’mon, honey, you really want to go to the police?” Suguru asks calmly, stroking her chin with a finger, “we already know you were running in the direction of the police station.”

“I-I wasn’t--” she stammers, and Satoru slaps her across the face once, tugging her head backwards by her ponytail. If she wasn’t blindfolded, she’d be looking up at him, seeing that he’s staring down at her with far more mischief in his eyes than malice.

“Don’t lie to us, bitch,” he murmurs, tightening his grip in her curls.

She whimpers, but it doesn’t sound like she’s afraid. Satoru looks at Suguru once, and Suguru knows what he’s thinking judging by the smirk on his lips.

It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve shared a girl, but it would be the first time they’ve shared a girl under these circumstances.

But Satoru is a master of reading people-- it’s the skill that got him invited to the Yakuza in the first place, and no one knows better than him the difference between a whimper of pleasure, and a whimper of pain.

Suguru smirks, “Don’t hurt her, Satoru-- she isn’t going to tell on us.” He plays the good cop, but he’s worse than his bad cop counterpart in every sense of the word.

Satoru tuts disapprovingly, “I don’t think it hurts-- ha, I think she likes it.”

Another tug to her hair, another whimper. She closes her legs together as tightly as she can, but she doesn’t say you’re wrong. Her cheeks are flushed, mouth open in the soft pants that she lets out anytime Satoru pulls too hard on her hair, and she isn’t denying anything.

“A sweet girl like her wanting to be defiled by two Yakuza? Surely not,” Suguru remarks, as he places a hand on her thigh, encouraging her to part her legs.

“It’s-- Ah-- it’s not that--” she says, but she spreads her legs, letting Suguru have a peak at what’s underneath her dress. And she’s certainly naughtier than she looks-- she’s not even wearing panties.

“Oh, maybe you’re right, Satoru,” Suguru says, pushing her dress up higher to get a better look at her pussy. It’s glistening already, “no panties,” he murmurs, sliding his hand up her thigh a little higher, “and she’s so wet already.”

“Filthy bitch,” Satoru coos, “you like this, don’t you?”

“I-I--” she can hardly speak when Suguru nudges his thumb through her wetness, slipping through her folds and pressing against her clit once. She jolts, and she moans so sweetly.

“If you stop lying to me,” Satoru murmurs menacingly above her lips, “maybe we’ll fuck you for it. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-Yes--” she whines, as Suguru presses his thumb into her, swirling around to gather her essence.

He chuckles, “Wanna taste her, Satoru?” He offers, grinning up at Satoru salaciously, “I bet she’s sweet.”

“Sickly sweet,” Satoru agrees, “like a whore should be.”

He grins at Suguru once, leaning down to suck her wetness off of Suguru’s thumb, tasting her. He groans softly around the digit-- she really is sweet.

“Ha, it wouldn’t be fair to leave her out, huh?” Satoru coos, opening the girl’s jaw with his big hand and spitting into her mouth, “swallow.”

He slaps her again-- she moans again.

She does as she’s told, so obedient, so good. For that, Suguru parts her legs lovingly, spreading them on either side of the chair. He tugs her down to the edge of her seat, burying his face in her cunt while Satoru takes her blindfold off, letting her look up at him while he glares down at her.

She moans, pants, stares into Satoru’s eyes as his best friend pleasures her pussy so expertly with his tongue.

“Yeah, you like that?” Satoru taunts her, as she moans up at him, “filthy, filthy, filthy. You only met us tonight, and we kidnapped you-- you’re really going to cum for us this easily?”

She starts to say something, Satoru slaps her again, and she convulses, getting closer with every time he manhandles her. She loves it-- of course she does. She gets closer, as Satoru presses his fingers into her mouth, encouraging her to suck on them.

She swirls her tongue around the digits, eyes rolling back in her head as she moans for Suguru, so close.

“Edge her,” Satoru demands rudely, and her eyes open in shock-- in horror, as Suguru chuckles and obeys the command. Satoru laughs down at her cruelly-- the bad cop aspect of him stays in all aspects of life.

“No-- please-- let me--” she begs, as Suguru stands up threading his hands into Satoru’s hair, pulling him into a messy, wet kiss. Satoru is surprised-- shocked, but he tells himself that it’s for the girl, that it’s not for him, and he loves to put on a show. The girl moans, staring up at the sight of the two of them groaning and kissing each other-- she sees their tongues meet, sharing the taste of her pussy between the two of them.

Satoru groans into the kiss, palming at his own erection, as Suguru leans over her, grabbing one of her tits in his big hand and massaging it roughly.

Suguru ends the kiss first, reaching down to untie her hands, as Satoru leans down and kisses her-- she feels the warm metal of his tongue ring against her own, she tastes herself on his tongue, and she likes it, moaning against him even though he’s treated her so cruelly.

They easily switch places, with Satoru kneeling between her thighs as Suguru undoes his belt, freeing his cock for her. She gulps at the sight of it-- so hard and throbbing already, with a piercing through the tip. She wonders how it would feel inside of her with that piercing, and she knows she’s going to find out tonight.

He presses the tip to her lips, and she accepts it gratefully, moaning as Satoru eats her pussy like he’s going eat her alive from the inside out. Suguru is so graceful, so languid with his tongue, whereas Satoru is ruthless, brutal, pinpointing and finding exactly what makes her cum with so much accuracy that it hurts.

“Pay attention, baby,” Suguru taunts her, grabbing a handful of her curly hair and tugging her forward, moving his hips in time with Satoru’s pumps of his fingers into her pussy.

Suguru lights a cigarette, glaring down at her as he smokes it, as she takes as much of his cock down her throat as she can manage.

His free hand uses her head like a toy, fucking himself with her mouth until tears run down her cheeks, spill down her neck. She gags, but she doesn’t stop, and she’s cumming whether she likes it or not-- the feeling of Satoru’s tongue ring circling her clit is so much so fast, mixed with the rough curls of his fingers inside her.

Her body convulses, as she moans loudly around Suguru’s cock-- it almost makes him cum in her mouth, the way her tight, wet heat closes around him with her vibrating moans, the way her eyes are rolled back in ecstasy from the ministrations of his best friend on her wet pussy.

He pulls out roughly, smacking his cock on her cheek before helping Satoru yank her out of her chair on shaking legs, pulling her over to the couch against the wall.

“You ever had anal before?” Satoru asks with a lewd grin, as he smirks at her, pulling her flush against his chest to kiss her while Suguru presses his lips to her neck, sliding the straps of her dress down her arms slowly.

“N-No,” she whimpers, as Suguru slices her dress with a knife that he’s pulled from his pocket, leaving her entirely nude before them.

She really wore no panties, no bra, as though she just wanted this to happen-- poor thing.

“Do you want to?” Suguru murmurs against the shell of her ear, and she shivers from head to toe, as both men smirk at each other over the top of her head. Her cheeks are so flushed, body so taut with arousal even after cumming not so long ago.

“Okay,” she whispers, as Satoru kisses Suguru overtop of her, both of them run their hands all over her naked body, grabbing her ass, her tits, her pussy. She’s all in now, ready for whatever they want to do to her, as long as they keep treating her body just like this.

Suguru loosens his tie, pulls his shirt off, revealing the dragon tattoos that sprawl across his body, as he lies down on the couch, and Satoru practically throws the poor girl on top of him. Satoru watches as he undresses, as Suguru rubs the pierced tip of his cock through her folds, nudging her clit with it as she gasps and pants for him, cheeks hot and flushed.

“What a fucking slut,” Satoru murmurs, kneeling behind her, tugging her ponytail out so that he can take a firm grip in her hair, lean her head back against his muscular chest so that he can kiss her while she’s pleasured by Suguru’s cock slipping through her folds. Her wetness is dripping down her thighs, dripping onto his hips, as he moans and thrusts up against into her-- just the tip slips through her resistance, drawing a low moan from him.

“Fuck, Satoru,” Suguru moans, as he gives a few shallow thrusts up into her pussy, “fuck her with me-- she’s so tight.”

The girl moans, sounding less like a person than an animal by the second, being treated like an object-- nothing but a fuck-toy for the two dangerous men on either side of her.

Satoru flattens his palm out on the center of her spine, pushing her down onto Suguru’s chest, where he kisses her obscenely, staring at Satoru’s pleasure-filled expression as he presses the head of his cock against her wet hole, dipping in while she groans into the kiss.

Suguru’s cock jumps at the sight of his friend feeling the tight warmth that he just did, seeing his hands grip the girl’s hips as he thrusts himself all the way in-- he’s never been gentle. The girl yelps and jolts forward, stopped by four hands and forced to take what she’s given from Satoru as he fucks her for a second, holding eye contact with Suguru as he does so.

“Fucking hot,” he murmurs, as his friend kisses the girl’s neck, and once he’s gotten his dick wet enough, he pulls back out, and Suguru takes his place back inside of her.

Satoru strokes his cock as he watches Suguru fuck up into her-- the sight and sound of their sloppy, wet, joined sexes making it hard to focus as he leans down to lick her other hole, before venturing down lower to press his tongue to the spot where their sexes meet, tasting her and Suguru both at the same time and moaning into it.

He then sucks his fingers between his lips, coating them in saliva before pressing them against her hole. She moans loudly at his long digits entering her ass, while her pussy is fucked so roughly by Suguru that she’s getting close again already. Two fingers in, and she’s taking it like a champion, as Satoru gets tired of waiting-- always the bad cop.

Suguru moans, and it makes Satoru’s cock twitch against her hole. He looks at his friend as he spits onto it, massaging her ass with it before nudging the tip in. She’s so distracted by the bouncing of the cock beneath her that she isn’t even struggling-- she’s just accepting Satoru into her ass like it’s nothing.

He sheathes himself all the way inside, “Fuck,” he groans lowly, moving shallowly. Satoru can feel Suguru’s cock through the thin wall that separates them, as they both start to fuck her in tandem.

“Oh, you fucking love it, don’t you?” Satoru groans, as she screams in pleasure, gripping onto the couch with everything she has.

Suguru pulls her into another kiss, “Should see her fuckin’ face, S’toru-- she’s such a slut.”

Satoru listens, grabbing a rough handful of her hair to tug her backwards and kiss her himself, as the sounds of their sex fills the room with squelching noises, moaning, and panting coming from all three.

Satoru spits into her mouth, eyeing Suguru as he does so, and she knows what he wants, so she leans down and transfers it to Suguru with her tongue, sharing the taste of him between the two of them when she’s so close to cumming that she can hardly breathe.

The feeling of two cocks inside her is so overwhelming-- it’s too much, they’re fucking her too hard, too fast-- she’s creaming down Suguru’s cock, as Satoru touches her pussy, massaging her clit and gathering some of her cum before slipping his fingers into Suguru’s mouth.

He moans and sucks the digits clean, and he knows he’s going to cum soon from the way that this girl is shaking, panting, convulsing around him-- she’s seeing black spots from pleasure as her holes get filled so severely that she can’t think. Four hands grab her body in every place, pinching her nipples as she cums again-- multiple orgasms in a row, she’s squirting involuntarily, shaking as tears spill down her cheeks.

She can’t even tell whose hands are whose, just that they’re groping and grabbing her, leaving bruises on her hips and thighs, as both of them use her like the fuck-toy that she is, chasing their orgasms together with the feeling of their cocks so nearly rubbing against one another.

Satoru leans over her, biting her shoulders and neck as he and Suguru look at one another-- having a silent competition of who’s going to cum first.

“Yeah? You like that Suguru’s gonna cum so fucking hard in your pussy?” Satoru breathes against the girls earlobe, biting it, as he feels that Suguru’s cock twitches inside her at the husky sound of his voice.

“Ha-- Ah,” Suguru groans, “S’toru’s gonna fill your ass up so I can fuck your pussy with his cum when it spills out--”

Satoru’s eyes widen, and he can’t help the way that his cock aches and twitches inside her-- his body tenses and shakes as he thrusts all the way into her ass to the hilt, flooding her with hot cum as Suguru watches, moaning loudly and following right behind him.

Satoru’s hot cum is already spilling out, covering both their sexes as Suguru uses his cum as lube to piston his hips up into her harder, unable to control the way that he’s twitching and cumming inside her-- the head of his cock practically thrusting against Satoru’s as he fills her pussy with so much cum that it’s dripping onto his abdomen as he’s still thrusting inside her.

She finishes with him-- cumming like she’s having a seizure, convulsing and fluttering around the both of them, until she falls limp into Suguru’s arms, breathing heavily, panting and sighing against his tattooed chest.

“So, you’re not gonna tell anyone what you saw?” Satoru asks with a chuckle, tracing a line down her spine, and she shivers.

“No,” she murmurs, slurred against Suguru’s chest, “‘m not.”

“Good girl,” Suguru replies, smirking at Satoru.

Satoru smirks right back.

[hijiki-heichou]

Vamp!Gojo for my sweet @septembersummer​‘s fic Winter on AO3. 

[septembersummer]

I just finished reading part one of your gojo fic on ao3 called “what a shame” and I loved every second of it!!!You did such an amazing such job with the characters and plot. Im gushing over the way u characterized gojo throughout the fic 😩😩 hes *chefs kiss* I can’t wait to continue reading the second part

omg thank you so much!

you’re too kind to me! i had so much fun writing that series it’s unbelievable 😩

i hope you have fun in the second part 💕

[septembersummer]

Okay so it’s obvious in what a shame y/n and Nanami didn’t have sex, but what bout in Starboy? If they did what was the sex like; I can’t imagine trying to have sex with nanami after 10 inch white haired demon 😭

they for sure had sex 😭 and nanami exists as the opposite to gojo in that fic, so whatever gojo would do— he’d do the opposite

i’m biased bc i’m not a big nanami stan but like… in my head there are a few things:

nanami is not very sexually adventurous. he sticks to the classics— doesn’t need to treat her like a rag doll to enjoy himself.

knows he’s “vanilla” and is alright w that.

he’s pretty quiet (maybe the occasional “good girl” if he’s feeling rowdy lmao). other than that, just quiet noises/grunts

on the other hand, if he’s had a bad day— i can see him being a little aggressive just to take out his frustrations on something

(god knows the man is frustrated)

he’d always feel very bad for it afterwards, though.

he would be far more intimate and attentive than gojo is. gives sublime aftercare even when she doesn’t really need it.

he’d never leave a mark. (gojo always leaves marks like the feral bastard that he is)

nanami, on the other hand, wouldn’t do anything that could affect her image, out of respect for her.

he’d honestly be good in bed imo! just in a more considerate, respectful way than gojo is.

he’s more human than gojo 😭 it would’ve been more like real life sex than whatever 10 inch incubus demon sex gojo has with her

poor nanami deserves so much better than what i do to him oh my god

[septembersummer]

im kinda confused after ch9... how does peaches' technique works?

i got you!! since i’m not sure which part confused you, i’ll give you the whole rundown~

so, her technique is super similar to Suguru’s (siblings and all).

Peaches can touch a cursed spirit or a person with cursed energy and steal their cursed energy for a short amount of time (sort of like a life-steal spell in a video game lmao)

it’s at the cost of going a lil insane for the duration it’s active. she can’t use their actual technique, though, only the cursed energy itself (for now, hehe).

in ch. 9, Satoru was testing her to see if he could control her murderous urges during it by uhhh dominating her

i haven’t explained why that works quite yet, or why he did that, because i plan on adding more to her technique as she trains it with satoru, but it’s a little bit to do with the fact that that specific curse wasn’t super strong like the last one, and a little of something else haha

i hope that clears it up? 😩😩 i’d say more but i don’t want to spoil my future plans for peaches

feel free to dm me or ask here again if you have any other questions though!! 💕💕

[septembersummer]

lil update post~

thank you so much to everyone who asked me about Peach on ao3 (check me out if ya wanna hehe— i post on there a lot more than i do here!)

peach is officially back! and i plan on updating every other day or so in between one-shots/short stories on here💕

(also toji part 2 coming soon hehe)

[septembersummer]

i just discovered your account and i binged your works on ao3. thank you so much for sharing your writing with us :) out of curiosity, in your starboy series who would knock MC up first? gojo or geto??

tysm!!! omg this is such a fun ask fjdsfhfdjs

if I was writing it, I'd probably say Gojo (bc he'd be a brat if it wasn't him first smh)

but a more funny answer is someone in discord suggested i write a part 3 where they have a dad reveal instead of a gender reveal lmao