Nerdjo

Who would’ve guessed our colonel is a memelord

HOW TO MAKE UP WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND ♡.ᐟ.ᐟ⸻ still not a guide. (yandere Gojo)

cw✶ yandere Gojo, he is a creep in the shadows, established relationship, they semi break up for a bit, reader with mental health problems, pining on either side if you think about it, fem reader, p in v sex, rough sex, feels like hate sex, but really make up sex, Gojo is lowkey obsessive af, oral sex (f! receiving), biting, spit stuff, cum play, breeding kink, borderline dub-con, but ykw that opens up a new gate for them, they are freaks and they are into that shit, never getting rid of this cock-roach.

<<PART ONE

a/n: again, sorry for late upload, but also not. but big thankies for 1k+ followers<3 have funnnn also oof. that's allllll~

Imagine kissing your girlfriend as you both cum together. And after you clean yourself and your girlfriend, you two cuddle and drift off to sleep, while whispering sweet nothings and imagining a future together. How picture perfect.

Or so it would seem to everyone. 

While Gojo Satoru is too busy buying a ring, getting the perfect plot to build a house—nay, home—with you, and imagining about adopting more cats and a dog maybe, making children with you, who must look like you; you were still trying to run from him.  

But Gojo Satoru is nothing, if not confident, not just in himself but also in his love for you. And if he has kept you tied to him for two whole years, a lifetime together will be plausible as well. Even if it means taking some difficult measures, despite his poor heart. Because he would never do anything to hurt you! How could he? It was as if his own source of life laid in your hands, and harming that vessel would be a foolish attack on himself. 

But when the time came that you stopped your meandering tactics of trying to get rid of him—scheming poorly staged fights could only get you too far—and just told him upfront, “I want to break up.” He almost lost it. 

You did expect at the very least few tears, and at most groveling; holding onto your legs and getting dragged on the floor, while tears and snot ran down his orifices—that type of begging. Yet, all he did was take off his apron, which he always wears while cooking for you, that says ‘husband material’, and silently walked out of the main door. As the soup on the stove boiled down to nothing and the rice became stale in the rice cooker—Satoru did not return.

And day by day his absence was chipping away at your sanity. Maybe it was the lack of delicious and nutritious meals he cooked you; toast and peanut butter with instant coffee for breakfast and take out for dinner, was not the way to keep yourself alive. And the lack of him was more apparent with the creases on your clothes, pile of laundry, the missing coats that went to be dry cleaned. Somehow dishes for one person were piling up in the sink like a huge mountain. And your cat was getting just as anxious as you—all the rivalry he had with Satoru was gone in an instant when he could not see the white fluff of hair being shoved in his belly. 

On top of all that it was as if everyone was out to piss you off. Your parents’ calls to just nag you were getting more annoying than ever, when Satoru was not around to swoop in at just the right time before a fight broke out, and took the phone from you to entertain your parents with his charm. Even they were starting to question the lack of Satoru from miles of distance. And your friend was asking about Satoru’s chocolate cake recipe. So the wisest thing you could do in this situation? Isolate of course.

Maybe the last straw was your colleague commenting on your sunken and dark eye bags. Or maybe it was the overgrown and chipped off nails, on your hand, and the dirt accumulated in the nails of your feet. Or just maybe it was the lack of his sweet whispers and head pats at night, while he held you close to his chest. The sound of his heartbeats always drowned out any worries that dared to come to your mind when you were in his arms. Or maybe it was the absence of how cold he felt to touch compared to your burning hands. 

And now it was just the air conditioner blasting excessively cold air all night long, with no one to turn it off for you when you started to curl up into yourself. All you can do is, just wrap yourself up in the blankets you last used with him, and bury your face in his pillow. Sniffing every last drop of his fading smell, and soaking up the said pillow with your tears.

“It’s ok, sweets. I am right here. Never going anywhere.”

Liar.

You did make sure to not contact him these past few days, and now it was already Saturday. It has been a whole week since you actually broke up with your boyfriend. And on the eighth day, you got drunk enough to black out, not before sending him illegible voice mails of slurred words and aggressive crying. And a wall of equally illegible texts, with occasional voice notes of, more crying. 

It was pathetic. Were you not the one trying to drive him away? And now you're just doing these things to make things harder for not just yourself, but also him. It was the last thing you wanted.

But it is not your fault the thought or him won't leave you alone. Yet he also left you behind. 

He might have already found someone better. Maybe he found someone since you started this whole charade, that is why he walked out so easily without a word. In a year you might receive a mocking invitation to their wedding, and postcards of their kids in Christmas pajamas with their pets. And thinking about all that first thing in the morning after drinking like a fish, was more nauseating than days old milk. 

Rotten and expired.

Maybe that's how he sees you now. Exactly with those disappointed eyes, just as the stares he is giving out to you while sitting on the couch with his legs spread and his hands holding each other. Great. Now you're hallucinating him. Time to actually see a therapist instead of making excuses.

“Did you drink last night?” 

Mirage Satoru’s low and demanding voice sure felt like real Satoru huh? But not really. Since you've never heard him speak to you in that tone. Satoru has maintained the most soft and affectionate voice with you since you've met. One time you got close to hearing the real Satoru speak in that tone, you caught him on the phone with someone from his office. And upon your arrival he quickly hung up for some reason and changed back to the sweet Satoru you know.

“I asked you something. Didn't I?”

Your mind sure does work wonders. First at making you feel like the worst living being alive, then making mirage Satoru follow you to the bathroom in the most perfectly matched cadence as real Satoru. You never really knew how much attention you paid to his every little move until now. That saying about only realizing something's worth when it's actually gone, sure hits home.

“Are you still drunk?” Oh shit. 

This was definitely the real Satoru, standing beside you, in front of the sink. Because you have been here before, with a hangover, trying to splash water in your face to somehow alleviate the headache. And Satoru always stood beside you like this, with a smile on his face and asked you the same thing. Difference is that his hands were always on you, instead of in his pockets, like right now. 

“What- why are you-” “I think we have plenty of time to find such unimportant answers. Hmm?” This was very much the real Satoru, but the condescending tone he used to cut off your, granted confused, rambling—that was not your Satoru.

But maybe this is alright. Because you are not sure if you can call him yours anymore.

“Did you think you got rid of me?” He leaned down to come face to face with you, and some more, making you effectively lean away from him and backing down towards the sink. Not a great idea, because it leaves you no option but to be trapped in between both of his arms on either side of you, holding himself to lean into you with a tight grip on the marble, turning his knuckles white. And his eyes were not as usual, but somehow a darker shade of blue, and much out of character, with no shine in them. There was a smirk on his lips, more patronizing than his words, but it did not not reach his eyes.

“Did you think we actually broke up?” you respond with nothing at first, but something about his aura told you it was better to answer him than not, so you quickly nodded a weak yes.

“Right. I did leave you alone for a week. Since that is what you have been trying right? For me to leave you alone.” He finished the sentence by lifting one of his hands off the edge of the sink counter to only squeeze your face and pulled you closer to him by your jaw. “You really tried hard huh? Well. sorry to tell you that it did not work.”

Whether or not you guys are over or not, was not your concern currently. He knew. He knew this entire time.

“How long?” you managed to muffle out, with the inside of your cheeks pushed in, not letting your tongue move freely. 

“Since you started this dumb charade. From your very obvious hints to complaining to your friends.” So he knew all along. Maybe he knew about this longer than you.

“Why?” You asked weakly, already thinking about a thousand ways this could go wrong. “Because I know how you get in your own head. Doesn’t take much huh.” You involuntarily shake your head from side to side. And something about your face squeezed in his hands, and your hand holding onto his wrist, while you shook your head, was too cute for him to hold back a giggle. It was precious, the way he bent down his head, to have his hair cover the crinkles of his eyes, and the stretch of smile across his face. But he could only hide so much. 

“So. Did you like your little single life for a week?” The answer was an instant “no.”

But Satoru really did not have to even ask to know that. After all, even when he was away from you, he was still there. Watching you come in and out of the apartment, the horrible state of the kitchen, watching you struggle with your cat to quiet down his meows, coming back from work and just lying face down on the couch and crying until you fell asleep. Or when your parents pestered you about him, and you got in another fight with them, to ignoring their calls from then on; he heard all of that. He also heard you tip toe around your friends whenever he came up in the conversation, until you finally told your friend and cried in her arms that whole night, and how she struggled to put you to bed. He also saw her take your cat with her for a few days until you got your shit together. 

He was always watching. From the shadows or from the couch in his penthouse, he saw you struggling with even brushing your teeth, ignoring your basic hygiene some days. Afterall he was the one always when things got this bad. But now he was not there. 

He also saw you crying in the shower, or when you squirmed under your blankets trying to find some sort of distraction and pleasure, to maybe forget the situation at hand for some time. He fisted his own cock at you struggling to please yourself like he did, then came to you crying miserably on your pillows. On more than one occasion.

He was tempted at times to come into the apartment while you slept with dried up tears on your face, and cleaned up as much as he could while leaving everything the same as it was to the naked eye. But he never left before sitting somewhere close to you and just watching you sleep. He knew how much of a light sleeper you were, so he could not risk anything, except for a few kisses and cleaning your face with a wet towel.

He was actually watching you while you got shitfaced last night and sent him all those voicemails and texts. 

But maybe these were things best left unknown by you.

“Still want to be single?” He offered as if it was even an option. “No.” 

“Good girl.” Maybe because he has never used such a term with you, or maybe it was the smile on his face that he did not hide away and reached his eyes. Or maybe because the smile felt more threatening than a knife being held to your neck. But it stirred up a storm in your stomach. And just as you thought those waves in your stomach could not get more intense, he lifted you off the floor, on his shoulder, and walked over to your bed with ease.

“A punishment is still due, sweets.” 

Honestly it was hard to tell what exactly had your pussy twitching in your panties—the fact that he was calling you sweets when you thought you would never hear that again, or that this was a completely new side to the Satoru you know and love, or just the sheer force with which he slammed you down on the bed. Either way it was all too fast and all too new for your brain to register anything at an acceptable pace.

“Let’s treat you how you want to be treated.” His body was basically pinning you down to the mattress, holding himself up with the support of his left hand beside your face, while the right hand hiked up your thighs, all the way up to your hips and pinning them further into the mattress. While working hard to not leave a single nook on your neck left unmarked. He has always been so gentle in bed, but this felt like somehow he was more comfortable not trying to treat you like some fine china.

He is kissing you, shoving his tongue in your mouth exploring everything that he has never touched. The next moment you are stripped down to your panties and flipped over to straddle his face. “SATORU!”

“What?” he asked so nonchalantly like he was not in a struggle with your thighs to sit you down on his face. Especially when he is not giving a second to process anything, but too lost into cranking his neck up to kiss you through your panties one moment and just tearing the panties off you, also pocketing them for some unknown reason.

“DID YOU JUST-I cannot!” “Not asking you to do anything sweets. I will be doing everything.” The smile with which he said those words, should be illegal. Because how dare it make you so weak in the knees and more, that you topple down and fall right where he wanted you. “Thank you for the meal.”

It is not that you have never imagined this, in fact quite often you have caught yourself thinking that his face is quite ‘rideable’. If you previously thought that he is a good eater, time to reevaluate his skills. His teeth pulled your lips open, to lick a long and anguished strip down, from your clit to your now twitching hole. After a week away from you, one would expect Gojo Satory to dive in like he is dehydrated, he might as well be, but the sheer will to torment you as a payback was all that was holding him back. 

Even when your thighs were engulfing his entire face, and the weight of you was heavy on him, he was still in control. His tongue, oh so skilled and flexible, laid flat and heavy pressed against your cunt as if it did not know what to do with all that. Even with all the whining and attempts at grinding on his face, maybe getting his nose to press on your clit or having the rough texture of his tongue drive you just where you needed to be—it was all fruitless, in front of his strength holding you still, leaving you to only clutch the headboard for your dear sanity.  

“Please- please, please Satoru, I am so-so s- sorry. Please.”

Maybe it was the apology or just that his self control withering away, but he finally started to work on your folds. Each drag of his tongue was agonizingly visceral, and just the feeling of his tongue pushing into your hole and hardening was enough, to make you consider maybe the slow pace was better than him  giving it his all like a depraved man. It was all sloppy licks and plush lips sucking on your clit. The noises were deafening, not just from your sopping cunt, but also the whines and grunts being muffled by your skin. But really he has always been deprived and hungry for you, it is just that he decided to shield you away from that side of him, for your sake really. He could inhale you entirely and keep wanting more, you were worse than sugar to him.

Everything was a mess, no words of warning could leave you before you came squirting all over his face. He kept holding you down on him, twitching and quivering from the sheer intensity in the air. And he did not shy away from licking away at every drop of saccharine juice dripping off you. When he pulled away to push back the hair in his face, it was wet, not just with sweat but with everything that you squirted all over him. And you could not decide if that was the most embarrassing thing or was it the string of spit still connecting your pussy to his mouth, or maybe the all natural glow he got on his face covered in your juices.

Your boyfriend sure values his time, because he spends no time flipping you back on the mattress, takes off his soaked shirt and situates himself right between your legs. And you would think, this is it. But no, instead he is moving up to forcibly open your mouth with his fingers, and pulling your tongue out to hold it down with his thumb. 

“Ahhhh.” And he is spitting out everything in his mouth on your tongue. His other hand moves up to your throat to squeeze the side and prevent you from swallowing anything that he gives you oh so graciously. All while the hardness of his cock, rubs your overstimulated pussy through the rough denim.

“Spit.” He instructs you as he opens his own mouth and moves his tongue forward for you to give him back what he lent, to take it all back and more with your own saliva mixed into the substance. So you do as asked, pulling yourself slightly off the bed to reach his tongue and roping them together. 

Satoru does all that to only spit it all out of his mouth. But that was the plan from the beginning, to drench your cunt with everything you and him. And that pushes you into some weird space where it feels like you might suffocate or come. It was the second one, you came from the hot liquid flowing down your slit and accumulating around your hole, and dripping further down to your ass. And his fingers spread it all over. Threading them carefully to give just enough but also nothing. 

While you throbbed in white ecstasy, Satoru got to work with the rest of clothes on his body. He gives you no time to flip you back over, and presses you down. This was new, you cannot remember when you were ever fucked by him in any other position than missionary. But you are not granted the time to relax and get used to this, because Satoru is already shoving himself inside you. Not easing into anything, just forcing the length of his cock inside you with no will to get you used to anything.

And with a few stops, because even when he has no intention for you to feel comfortable, he wants you on the edge and overstimulated, but the anger is nothing to your tight walls and warmth. So he staggers a bit, but gets all of him inside you, right up to the base of his cock. Then usually he gives you all the sweet time to get used to the stretch before he starts fucking you. But truly you have taken his nicety for granted, when he spends no time to give you a mean thrust, followed by more, each thrust getting more and more vigorous and sloppy with passing time.

“Yeah, you are taking it all huh. Do you love it? Now that i am fucking you like some slut? Is this what you wanted?” He rapidly slurs all that out, his mind more focused on the view of your ass recoiling with the force of his thrust, and his dick disappearing inside you. “This is what you deserve right? Come one, answer me.” 

“YES. y-yess.”

You are gripping onto the same pillows you cried on last night, and similarly to the past seven days, they were soaked in your tears. Just this time around it was from the amount of pleasure you felt in the pain. For the first time in your life, pain felt sweet, addictive. 

Satoru’s right hand was holding you by the waist, probably leaving an imprint of his callouses from the grip, trying to keep you still from hitting your head on the headboard. His hips however did not stop for a second, they quivers, and staggered, but they never stopped. It was the built up desires he locked away to make you feel like a doll, but since that is not what you wanted, he can surely take you out of the glass display from time to time to play with you. 

Satoru leaned down on your back, to push his chest to your back, and nuzzled in the side of your face. His lips found your ear, biting them to have you turn your head and look at him, to only collide his lips to yours. It was messy and raw, just tongue and teeth, spit dripping to your chin, like you have never been kissed before and he has never kissed before. And more than enough to make you cum again.

“I’m going to fill ya’ up. Fill ya’ full with my cum, until you are too filled to take any more. And I’ll just shove it all back into you. Plug you up.” His thrusts were starting to shatter more and more. “You’ll like that right? Hmm?” Nothing about you makes him think rationally, in fact you quite literally challenge his sanity. But he cannot help but love you, want you, need you even. 

“I’m gonna fill you up with my kids. Breed ya’ full, so you can never run away from me.”

You did not hate that idea. When his breaths are getting heavier with every second, and his nails are digging into your waist, and his face is pushing itself in your hair; you are actually hoping he keeps his word. 

And he does, you can feel every rope of cum he shoots up your walls, how his cock twitches inside you, making you clench around him in return—he is cumming inside you. Filling you up with his seed, shoving his cock further up your tubes, hitting your cervix one too many times to leave you capable of walking tomorrow. And it was all slimy and sloppy, you have never felt this wet, and you liked the feeling and idea of Satoru’s cum gushing inside you, creeping up to your womb and tying you down to him, forever.

While you are too busy hitting a fourth orgasm, and getting lost in the feeling of Satoru’s cum filling up your walls—Satoru’s left hand creeps up to your left hand, and slips the coveted ring that he kept safe with him, on your ring finger. He plops down on you, still connected to you by your cunt, and brings your left hand to his lips and kisses it, before moving to your face and kissing you. 

“Finally.” He wishepers, more to himself than for your ears to pick it up.

“I am not taking a no. I will tie you up if necessary.”

"I love you a lot you know?"

Maybe you have finally gone insane. Because honestly, you would not have it any other way. You might try to run again just to have Satoru chase you down and corner you, and lock you up. Maybe it was the thrill, or just the sheer need to piss him off to the point he shatters into nothing but the most authentic image of himself—but either way you had no plans of leaving your boyfriend. You need Gojo Satoru, you need him more than you need oxygen to breathe.  

"I love you too."

He is essential for your survival, and you are integral to his existence.

TO FIND MORE OF MY WORKS CLICK HERE.

a/n: dividers by @/omi-resources. header (i edited the original to fit the blue theme) by the artist Tony Belobrajdic (this is his insta go follow him or at least check it it is gorgeous)

did not edit it halfway through. please spare me.

tag list: @cheralith @madamechrissy @gojosperms @naomigojo @naomi-main @cuntphoric @nanamiskentos @cuntyji @cuntphoric @aishi-toru @fushitoru @rriwyu @exquisink @lover-lyn @buckysm @wwwritererm @indiewritesxoxo @gojosconsort @alygator77 @shouiow @user25384959574 @dxmnsaera @kazupop @slayzzz @undercvrfan444 @miizuzu @getoistic @infinitatis-ink @theorphicangel @ricecake-mochi @nonamebbsblog @genshingeeksworld @splat1371 @stxrlingpearl @satorushousewife @teyamsjustsleeping (the one and only, planted the seed for part 2)

I loved your boxer good can we get boxer gojo in jealousy pleaseeee😭❤❣

hehe ofc bb<3 jealous boxer!gojo it is.. part 1 part 2

boxer!gojo who gets jealous way too easily. he sees the way the other fighters look at you—his sports therapist, his girl. sees the way they grin when you tape their hands, the way they lean in when you check their injuries. and he fucking hates it. "bet they like having your hands all over ‘em, huh?" he mutters, voice low and dangerous.

you roll your eyes, used to his possessive streak. "it’s my job, satoru." but that’s not good enough. because right now, his job is making sure you remember exactly who you belong to.

boxer!gojo who fucks you against the locker room mirror, making you watch. "see that?" he pants, one hand gripping your throat, the other pushing your legs apart. "no one else gets to touch you like this. no one." his hips snap into you hard, deep, stretching you open until you can barely stand.

you whimper, hands pressed against the mirror, and he leans in, smirking. "aw, baby—what, too much? you didn’t seem so shy when you had your hands all over those other guys."

boxer!gojo who makes you scream his name. "who’s fuckin’ you like this, huh?" he groans, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow and teasing circles. you choke on a moan, legs shaking, and he laughs, low and smug.

"c’mon, sweetheart. say it."

when you finally sob out his name, he rewards you with a bruising thrust, hips slamming against yours. "that’s right. mine."

boxer!gojo who doesn’t stop even when someone knocks on the door. "oi, gojo, you in there? fight starts in five!"

he grins against your neck, still rolling his hips. "guess i gotta make this quick, huh?" his fingers tighten around your throat, keeping you right where he wants you as he fucks you even rougher. "better cum before i do, baby—don’t wanna walk outta here with my cum drippin’ down your thighs, do ya?"

boxer!gojo who leaves you wrecked, trembling, completely fucked out. he kisses your jaw, smirking. "next time you touch another guy, remember this, yeah?" he fixes his shorts, winks, and heads out like he didn’t just ruin you.

and when he wins his fight that night, he points at you in the crowd, grinning. "that one was for my girl."

…because everyone in this arena should know who you really belong to.

Secret Santa for @cryptid-juzou !! They had maid!Chuuya among the requested prompts and I immediately jumped at that. I really hope you like it! (Some bonuses that didn't make the cut) Thanks to @bungostraydogs-secret-santa for organizing this!

.𖥔 COGNITIVE DISSONANCE ⭑.ᐟ⸻ Nerdjo

⸻୨ৎ"𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭"୨ৎ⸻

pairing⸻𖥔 boyfriend Nerdjo x reader

cw ────୨ৎ──── university/college au, Nerd Gojo Satoru, MDNI, NSFW, established relationship, fem reader, mentions of food, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, minor spit stuff, bunch of making out, lowkey exhibitionism, p in v sex, backshots, dirty talk, begging, overstimulation, freaky Gojo, obsessed Gojo, Gojo with specs, bunch of yapping about the theory and other biological phenomena, nothing too complicated I believe, i am open to discuss them in the comments lol.

a/n: art credits @/nekozuu_ on instagram. this was one of my fav theories back in high school.

Gojo Satoru lives by his beliefs, which are firm and rigid—in the sense, they are unshakable until proven wrong.

And one of those beliefs happens to be his positive regard for knowledge and education. Satoru finds his own comfort and joy in knowing he may be smarter than an average pedestrian crossing the road with him. If odds and variables are in his favor, then he's just about the smartest person you'll cross a road with. And he likes that. He likes the feeling of superiority and fulfillment in those achievements. Especially when they are recognized by others.

So it is only natural that as your boyfriend, your great and supportive boyfriend, he supports all your hobbies, and indulges in your favorite activities; despite their overall redundant effective outcome in his perspective. He still accompanies you to those silly movies you watch just for fun and forget about them the next day because they are of no substance, he'll go to a party with you where it's so crowded it defeats the purpose of socializing. 

He will buy you books that do not really add to anything but give you entertainment, and he will watch every trashy reality show you want to watch with him on a Friday night. He’ll even go and buy you the most unhealthy, and unethical brand of cookies if it means you are happy. Even when it is probably that he knows better shops that make better stuff, but if you do not want it, then he will respect that. Because ultimately it is not that it interferes with his convictions, these are compromises he is willing to make for love.

So when all he asks of you is to focus on your grades a little bit more than what you are currently, how can you say no to him?

And of course he is there to help you through all of it! Helping you with notes, going to the library with you and even sweet talking the librarian into helping you return those books you were long overdue to return, just because she loves him. He makes you coffee, and lunch boxes, and even asks your professor for some additional pointers on your behalf.

Then why is it that when you actually get so engrossed into studying he is there in a corner, ignored, and dejected, plotting to burn down the university? The same place where he tops every single academic chart, and competitions. Either beloved by the professors or hated by them for his very capable brain.

Gojo Satoru has strict beliefs, and behavior that corresponds according to those schemas. Then why is it that he is not able to come to a certain conclusion? Does he want your affection at the cost of your grades? Of course not! That would not be something Satoru would even dream about!

After all this is the same guy who helps Suguru with his assignments the day before their submission, one too many times. He helps Shoko with her pre-med preparations, and even helps out his juniors by providing them his notes and pointers for free.

So why is it that he is performing these contradictory behaviors that cannot justify his beliefs?

He is snuggling you up in the bed when you are surrounded by loose notes and papers, even lying on top of them and crushing them in the process. Throwing a fit when you scold him, and pushing them off on the ground out of spite; like a big overgrown, bratty, spoiled house cat. So he gets kicked out of the bed after being heavily scolded by you. 

He is sliding his feet up your legs and between your thighs, at the library, not stopping even when someone comes and takes a seat beside you. Taking pleasure in watching your face twist and turn, even though it is hidden a bit behind your laptop screen, he still gets a peek. He wouldn't stop, he cannot stop, it's as if his mind goes into this ‘must always touch the love of my life’ mode, even when it's disputing his usual functions. So he gets kicked in the knees by you, and also gets abandoned there.

He cannot help but pull you into random empty classrooms to make out with you, even when you are late for your classes. 

“It-*kiss*-will be-*kiss*- alright”

“No, N-*kiss*-you have to-” Shoving at his shoulders is useless. Just resisting his kisses is simply near impossible. 

Good luck trying to get out of his clutches. Telling him to stop is not happening when he has those pretty pink lips trying to silence you with kisses. Trying to push him off is also ineffective. Once, you are in his arms, on his lap, in the back of an empty lecture hall, Satoru is taking full exploitative advantage of the situation.

He will be only letting you go when he hears someone enter the class. He will pick you up with him in one go, and walk out of the entrance at the back as fast as he can. He has been banned from kissing privileges for a whole day, during exam season for doing this. 

And honestly he'd risk it again. Only because he knows how to plead his way back onto your lips, and in between your legs.

"Pleaseeeeee sweets i am so sorry, look how sorry i am." Curse Gojo Satoru and his big blue puppy eyes, and your unfathomable amount of love for him.

And if begging does not work, which hardly ever happens—he would just start with kissing around your neck, and snuggling into your side, while you try to not give him any attention; and then quickly it would turn into dirty talking into your ears, in his own eccentric way, until you give in.

“You know sweets, condoms are not biodegradable.” You are not sure what made a shiver run down your spine. Was it what he said or the bite on your earlobe, or his wandering hands creeping up your stomach under your top? 

“W-what?”

“Just saying that, we should do it raw, right now, for the environment. You know?”

Maybe it is just the fact that you look so hot when your eyebrows are all scrunched up when you focus. Something is very sexy about you trying, actually trying, for his sake. And it just simply turns him on. How hard you try to ignore his advances, and how it shows so clearly that you get so easily affected by his little touches and silly words. It looks exactly the same when you cum for him, just the difference is that your eyes remain open in this case. 

He is not one to have types, if you asked him whether this reckless behavior is because he's into nerdy girls more—then he'd simply say an adamant no. Because he doesn't care. The only reason he is being like this is because it's you. Everytime you whine and push him away, when he tries to distract you, despite it, you just melt so pliable and soft in his arms, that even your actions seem despite your words. Just like him. The thought burns his skin, makes his heart palpitate, leaves him panting, and his vision gets all blurry—that maybe you love him as disruptively, as he loves you.

Dichotomy? Contradictions? He can live with those. But dissonance? That he cannot do. His entire existence is about the perfect synchronisation of his cognition and behavior, achievement of homeostasis, so he can be the most functional version of himself.

He cannot have that when his mind is shouting at him to stop himself from distracting his girlfriend, while his hands are doing nothing to stop themselves from sneaking into your skirt.

So his love for knowledge and education can crash and burn when it tries to rival his need to be practically attached to his girlfriend, and always have all of her affections and undivided attention, like the selfish bastard he is.

Especially when he has your ass up in the air, giving you some of the meanest backshots of your life, while you are trying to solve an equation.

How is that fair?

"B-baby, can you-can you focus?" And no, he does not mean to imply that you should focus on your studying, he means focus on him.

"I am trying to focus here, Toru. Just another page and I'm done with this set, one second."

He continues to thrust harder and harder. Your almost entire body moves forward with each one, and just the fat of your ass jiggling from the impact, while his hands definitely leave an imprint around your waist—how are you even using that calculator right now?

“You sure, that-oh god-this is what you'd rather do?” He says before shutting his eyes and pushing on your body a bit, making your top half lie flat down on the bed, while your ass remains in the air, high and perfectly in his grasp.

“Yes Toru.” With a sigh you added more, “But please, continue.”

So he does. How can he disobey you? I mean if you look at it from a different angle, you can look at this like Gojo Satoru keeping his girlfriend motivated! Sure. 

How exactly? Well if you think about it, he is sort of helping you out with exhausting you, and making you get some sleep, and his kisses alone are very motivational, very inspiring. Or so he would like to think, definitely not distracting or attention seeking.

At least that is what he'd like to tell himself, like when after being ignored by you for one and a half hours, he finally decides he's had enough. And he abandons his own work, and crawls off your bed, to your desk, where you are sitting, trying to focus—keeping a healthy distance between you two, since the exams are practically the day after tomorrow.

And from the corner of your eyes you can see Satoru crawling towards you. Maybe he thinks if he crawled like a cat, he would go unnoticed, which is a very dumb assumption for such a smart guy. But he gets to your chair, and slightly turns it so you are no longer facing your desk, but him instead.

“You're hurting me sweets.” He laid his face on your thighs, and looked up at you with pleading eyes. Sitting on the floor, he looked so dejected and kicked, while moving your feet on his lap, and caressing a hand up and down on them.

“Do not start with me, Satoru.” Despite sighing at his big blue desperate eyes, hiding behind his metal frame spectacles. That now sat crooked on his face, as he further pressed his cheeks in your thighs, you still slipped one of your hands in his hair, scratching his scalp like a big clingy cat purring in your lap.

“‘M just askin’ for ‘m sweets to pay attention to me.” Both of his hands wrapped themselves around your shin, and he further shoved his face in your lap, mumbling and grumbling like a kid.

And when you don't reply to him, because you get busy with your worksheet again, he has no choice but to let the impulses run him. 

Is it so bad to distract your girlfriend the day before her exam? 

If you asked him this before he met you, he'd say yes. But now—the answer would be very different. A kind of, very cheeky ‘Nooooooo’. Since he is currently working to take off your shorts, and to get a taste of you, anything but a ‘no’ would be the incorrect answer. And why did you not try to pry him off as he lifted you up from your seat, with his sheer strength alone and dragged your shorts off? 

Let's say you're too used to his antics to be bothered by it. There have been days where he has gone to sleep with his mouth on your tits, and even taken naps with his face down, and pressed into your clothed pussy. You kind of got a scare that day that maybe he suffocated himself, when he would not get off of you.

But you never shy away from indulging his delirious or conscious insanity. You'd always pamper him after all the nighters he pulls to cover his syllabus in a day, months before exams; or if he stays up all night to finish a level of Zelda. It could be that he is just too happy to get full marks on his test, or that he's upset over his grades being not good enough—you’d kiss him, and let him do whatever he wants, to make himself feel better. You'd never stop him from trying to get his fill.

So when he puts both of your thighs up on his shoulder, and pulls your panties to the side to give your cunt a long lick; sure you whimper and your grip on your pen gets tighter—but you don't stop him.

“S-Sato-” The stutter of words got stuck in your throat, when his face plunged into your pussy with more vigor.

“AH. OH-FUCK-MY GO-GOODNESS. SATORU!”

His left hand remains tightly wrapped around your right thigh, while his left hand crept its way up to your hole, circling around it, and teasing to go in by a centimetre or so, to then only pull back and trace around your entrance.

“Hmm?” He hummed around your clit, as his tongue worked around it in a steady and perfected rhythm.

Well, Satoru has a system when it comes to eating you out. One thing he knows he'll never get conflicted over, is that he can die with his mouth on your pussy and he will die happy. He might even come back as an apparition instead of going to heaven, because his heaven is between your legs.

The way he eats your cunt is strategic, and yet very sloppy. And when it comes to your clit, sucking on it can do the job, as he has observed—but what truly gets you worked up is when he is tracing the pi symbol on your clit. That makes you shower his face with your juices. 

And honestly this was entirely an accidental finding. It just so happened that one day he needed a break from this equation that was making his head hurt, so as usual, he found refuge with his face between your legs. Unintentionally he started thinking about the equation again while eating you out, and when his tongue off mindedly started to trace the pi symbol on your clit, it made you squirt, which you had never done before.

Just to solidify his hypothesis and to draw an inference, for the next seven days, he spent most of his waking free hours between your legs. And everytime he pulled out the pi, you came more than ever.

This little side quest experiment cleared his head so well, he solved that equation within minutes after he came to his conclusions.

“P-please Toru- trying. Fuck. Try-trying to get .Fuck fuck fuck. this page is done.” You did not know these little details. You don't need to, because as long as he can make you cum like no one else has, all you need to remember is, his tongue.

“Be a good girl and finish it then, sweets.” The two fingers that he delved inside your hole, to push against those spots in your wall, that made you scream uncontrollably and want to grip his hair—he took them out, and used that hand to slap your clit with sharp and accurate movements of his wrist. Neither his taunting words, nor his little moans, could rival yours. But it sure did go straight to your pussy, quite literally.

“To-Toruuuu” You twitched with every little slap that came down on your clit. And your worksheet looked like a toddler started solving it by the end. The vibrations of the sounds he started to make in his own pleasure only made it worse for you.

“Yes, sweets?” He finally pulled off from your cunt, with his lips and nose glistening with your juices, and his glasses fogged up and smudged, so he had to look up at you from the gap above his glasses. 

And he truly could not look more fucked out. If someone saw you two, it'd be hard to tell who's brain has gone more mushy.

“If-hah-I cum, w-will you stop?” The proposition was tempting and risky.

“Hmmm? You're asking as if you can hold back.” And without another word, he dove right back in, with more determination, more fingers, accompanied by his tongue inside of you, and more of his spit just rolling down the mound of your cunt—he ate you out like a starved man, until you came.

And if you thought you could bargain with Gojo Satoru; you are, oh so, wrong. 

Satoru didn't let you go until you came again on his face on the bed next, and then again while sitting in his face. And by the sixth orgasm, you've had enough, so you passed out on him. 

Next day as punishment for himself, he refrained from doing anything to you, and helped you study while studying for his own exams. And when the urges started to override his beliefs, yet again. He ran back to his dorm room. And locked himself in there until the exams were done. He went as far as to not even touch himself to the thought of you, and kept contact with you minimum. Texts, only five per day; calls, only two per day; and video calls, once if he is about to pull out his dick and jerk it to pictures of your face on his phone. And he wished that maybe this distance will get rid of the discord in his head. 

By the time the exams ended, Satoru felt more than confident, not only in the fact that your grades are about to get better, and that he is going to top yet again; but also that his problem was under control.

Gojo Satoru has fixed his dissonance. His cognition and his behavior are in perfect synchronisation.

“Toruuuu!” You yelled as you ran towards him from across the hallway, to pick him up after his exam.

No, Satoru’s behaviors did not suddenly start to align with his beliefs. In fact, he figured it's better to align his beliefs with his behavior.

“Missed you sweets, so much.”

Gojo Satoru is not that fond of PDA, but like right now, he would never refrain from kissing you with tongue and all in the middle of the hallway. It doesn't matter that his glasses get pushed up to his forehead and he looks silly when you back away, because he will always chase your lips, as you giggle at him and try to fix his glasses.

“Missed you too baby” Your giggles went straight to his head. Making him see hearts floating in front of his eyes, all around you.

So, Satoru cannot keep his hands off you, big deal. Fuck his beliefs. He can, and he should, be able to touch you whenever and however he can. He is lucky enough to have you, to have you love him so dearly to indulge all his silly thoughts and his obsessive love sick behaviors.

It was only about time that his brain also understood that it cannot fight the phenomenon that is, your existence in his life. So why try to pull back his muscles from naturally reaching out to you, and why not just have his hands all over you? Because answer to homeostasis is not to battle with the anomalies disrupting his equilibrium; with all his physiological and psychological might; but to achieve self-regulation and changes from within, to allow proper functioning and survival.

Because Gojo Satoru’s brain may be able to fight anything and everything. Perhaps even find answers to the unknown—but it's always at your mercy, just as his entire being.

TO FIND MORE OF MY WORKS CLICK HERE.

a/n: Art credits @/nekozuu_ on instagram, other pictures are from Pinterest; i could not find the exact sources.

full quote is by Leon Festinger (cognitive dissonance was mainly theorized by him) “A man with a conviction is a hard man to change. Tell him you disagree and he turns away. Show him facts or figures and he questions your sources. Appeal to logic and he fails to see your point."

tag list: @cheralith @madamechrissy @gojosperms @gojao @cuntphoric @cuntyji @cuntphoric @aishi-toru @rriwyu @exquisink @lover-lyn @buckysm @wwwritererm @indiewritesxoxo @soupicidesquad @shouiow @user25384959574 @dxmnsaera @kazupop @slayzzz @undercvrfan444 @miizuzu @getoistic @infinitatis-ink @theorphicangel @gojosconsort @ricecake-mochi @veahhcarothers

You're All I Want [Week Two] || MINORS DNI

Summary: No one really seems to fit your standards, your roommate, Chuuya, proves otherwise.

Tags: Chuuya Nakahara/Reader, Female reader, 3.5k Words, Jealous Chuuya, Cunnilingus, Pussy Worship, Overstimulation, Spitting, Cum Eating, Chuuya Comes In His Pants, Petnames (Pretty Girl, Dollface, Sweetheart, etc.), He Should Be The Standard Tbh, Wyd If Your Man Isn’t A 5’3” Ginger Mafia Executive, Perhaps I Projected Slightly Since It’s My Birthday In Two Days And This Is My Gift To Me, Mwah.

Sinners: @pe4rl-diver , @sakui1 , @mxya-dreams , @runs-withscissors , @writingandmusing , @mairia-chan , @dearestwitchtrials

Becoming a mafia executive’s roommate was not on your to-do list, yet here you were— from moving what was left of your belongings into a large empty room to finally redecorating the minimalist aesthetic your roommate’s apartment seemed to take on with him barely being there already due to his occupation. You seemed to fill a space in Chuuya’s life that he didn’t know he was missing.

Now there wasn’t a day he didn’t come home late into the night and not expect you to be up and about doing your own activities, acting as if you were some nocturnal deviant that haunts the night with random shenanigans. He can’t count how many times he’s walked in to find you nursing one of his cheaper bottles of wine and cooking or baking something that you just happened to find while scrolling through social media, offering him some in return with an awkward grin to avoid his wrath for finishing nearly half his bottle. Of course, he was always too tired to fight you on the matter from the day and would take the rest of the bottle for himself before sitting at the island counter to wait for you to finish with whatever you were making.

Or the amount of times you bought something new to add on to the decorations in your apartment, showing it off proudly to Chuuya as you placed it next to the tons of other random vintage-looking trinkets and paintings you got in the past. Though he never complained much because how could he argue about how busy the decorating looked when he was barely there to look at it in the first place?

And when he got the day off, you were there with him most often, binging movie series or begging to go shopping with him because you couldn’t help but marvel at the small stationary sections they had in the stores he frequented. He rolls his eyes and scoffs every time with a snarky, yet harmless comment to make about your buying habits— wondering when you’d ever need a dog themed wine opener, only to realize weeks later that he had been using it every time he opened a new bottle and that you payed close attention to his likes and dislikes. It made him feel a little bit better about allowing you to be his roommate at all, not sure how it would go with how you were when you first met.

He never once thought he’d experience having a woman come up to him while was in the middle of fighting at least five opposing gang members to ask him for directions to the nearest convenience shop. Of course, he almost didn’t have that chance to advance any further with you as he had with the onslaught of bullets that came your way, but with his ability and quick reflexes, he pulled you out of the way to take cover behind a car, chastising you on your social awareness— or lack thereof. Your reasoning behind approaching him out of everyone else in the area was beyond him, and you admit that you don’t even know why yourself, seemingly finding that you were just naturally drawn to him. And he did eventually get you to that convenience store that you were asking about.

How you ended up being roommates? Chuuya likes to blame the fact that he was partly raised by Kouyou to be a gentleman for his choice of offering you a place in his apartment after you met him once more weeks later at a bar, whining about the flooding in your apartment complex that had everyone looking for a new place to live, including yourself. He’d never seen you look so flustered and timid, trying to back track and stumble over how it really wasn’t a big deal and how you were just going to couch surf with one of your friends until you found somewhere else to stay.

If there was something that Chuuya was, it was stubborn, but he learned that night that you were too— going back and forth for nearly an hour with each other until you were immediately persuaded with the promise of him taking you out to ice cream after getting you sobered up and back to your place to collect what was left of your items.

You settled in quickly and easily, your presence becoming one that Chuuya couldn’t ignore if missing.

Which is why he was so put off by your absence one night when he came home to find everything in dead silence with all the lights and TV shut off. It almost felt… empty, and it caught Chuuya off-guard. Maybe you went to bed early for once? But usually when that happened, you always— always left the TV on while you slept away on the couch, curled up cutely beneath one of his expensive throw-blankets. There was the chance that you weren’t feeling well and decided to sleep in your room for once, but after quietly shuffling over to your room and peeking in, your bed was empty— sheets strewn about and your multitude of pillows bunched around your sleeping spot.

Then he thought there was always the possibility that you got one of your random cravings for a specific junk food and went down to the small convenience shop down the road to buy it. But he knows that you always drag him along no matter how tired you both are or how long you have to wait for him to get home because you feel safer with him.

Pacing back into his room, he takes off his hat and gloves, hands sweaty as he takes out his phone. On one hand, he doesn’t understand why his nerves are acting up because you were probably fine— you had other friends— maybe you’re with them. But there’s still that small thought in the back of his mind that there may be something wrong and he knows it’s definitely because of everything that he’s dealt with in the mafia, including watching nearly everyone he’s ever cared about die. He clicks on your name and sends you a text asking where you are, and if you didn’t answer in five minutes, he’d try to call, and then possibly even go looking for you— but you answer almost immediately and he lets out a soft, relieved sigh that he didn’t even realize he was holding in.

“Didn’t you see my note on the fridge? Aww. You miss me that much (＾ｖ＾)?” As he read your message, he could hear your voice clear in his mind, a small huff leaving his nose as he does. Finally being able to relax, he makes his way into the kitchen and turns the light on to see a yellow sticky note plastered to the fridge with your writing in pink glittery ink. “Won’t be home till super late, on a date. Made udon earlier, leftovers in the fridge.”

Letting the information settle in, he only focuses on the first sentences of your note, a blank look on his face as he re-reads it at least three more times.

A date? He didn’t realize you were even interested in that stuff, or maybe he just assumed you weren’t because he wasn’t interested in it due to focusing on the mafia. At least until now. He doesn’t understand the irritation that eats at him at the thought of you spending your free time with some guy that doesn’t know you at all, probably more interested in the thought of what’s beneath your clothes than anything else. But that’s not his business, so he shouldn’t have a say in it. He wasn’t a controlling person— outside of the mafia at least— he thinks. So why does he feel like he deserves to put any of his two cents in on you going out and enjoying yourself?

He’s barely able to sleep with these thoughts running through his head, deciding to drink a glass of wine while sitting on the couch to soothe his nerves. But it doesn’t stop until he hears the front door unlock and open, a pair of heels clicking against the wood floor. Which was interesting because you didn’t own heels— not going out enough to really bother with them. His head turns to look behind him over the back of the couch, sucking in a breath when he catches a glimpse of you in a tight dress, bent over to take your heels off. His head whips around to face straight again and tries to rid of the image burned in his retinas, free hand coming up to rub at his eyes.

Your feet slap against the ground quietly as you walk over to the couch, moving to sit on the other end of it and lean against the arm rest. You slouch over and sigh tiredly, ready to doze off. “How was work?” You ask, voice groggy.

Glancing away, Chuuya avoids looking at you, deciding to focus on his wine. “It was fine… jus’a lot of paperwork today,” He stiffly replies before hesitantly asking in return, “How was your date?”

He could not explain the relief he felt for a second time that night when he heard your groan of disdain, clearly having had a failed date. “It was going well and then after dinner he said that he wanted a blowjob because he was entitled to one after paying for my dinner even though I offered to pay for my own half. So really, he was just a douchebag,” You mumble out as you curl up further against the armrest, tugging a folded up throw-blanket off of the back of the couch to cover yourself with.

A loud scoff escapes Chuuya lips before he comments, “Yeah, sounds like a real piece of work.”

“S’not even the first time this stuff has happened,” And this fact has Chuuya eyeing you.

“You went on more dates?” He tries not to sound like he’s about to burst a vein, but knowing that you’ve gone on more dates than just the one guy has him nearly foaming at the mouth.

Shifting to sit up a bit, you wrap the blanket around your body and tuck your hands under your chin, watching him brew in a small bout of anger. “Yeah— went on a few actually, but they sucked too. I just went earlier in the evening while you were at work. Why’re you getting so worked up?” You hold back the amusement in your voice and let your eyes follow his bare hand to come up and run through his hair.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Would’ve kicked their asses,” Chuuya grumbles instead of answering your question directly. It makes you giggle quietly, holding back more laughs when his head whips over to look at you and his face scrunches up. “What? What are you laughin’ about? They’re fuckin’ assholes…” He strains, his cheeks flushing at your small grin.

“Nothing… just think it’s a little funny that you’re getting more upset about it than me,” You point out, moving over to sit closer to him.

“Because— cause…” Chuuya trails off, glancing to the side as his face only grows a darker shade of pink. “Guys can be jerk offs, okay? I would know. And it’s bullshit that they treat you like that.” You can tell that something is making him act unusual from his normal nonchalant demeanor— and it only encourages you to get even closer to him until you’re leaning shoulder to shoulder with him.

You think it’s a little cute that he’s so defensive over you, feeling his body stiffen at how you’re pressed against him before relaxing a bit, but still avoiding eye contact. “It’s fine, I’ll just chill on the dates for a while, no one’s been meeting any of my standards anyway. I’m starting to think I’m a little picky.”

“Yeah? What’s your standards?” He mumbles, staring down at his half full wine class as he waits for your response. But instead, he feels the weight against his body shift, your chest now pressing against his arm and warm breath blowing against the side of his neck. Turning his head to look at you, he sucks in a quiet breath as his heterochromatic eyes meet yours in a stare. You gaze at him with a knowing look, eyelids falling into a lull and pupils flickering down to focus on his lips— and he’s done for.

There is no perception of how much time has passed from Chuuya’s lips meeting yours to him lifting you up by the thighs to carry you off into his room and throw you down onto his bed. Climbing over you to hover above your body, his hands are pushing the hem of your dress up eagerly and fumbling to get his own shirt off, lips moving along yours messily, smacking together loudly as he presses you further into the mattress. Everything about his movements are desperate and impatient, taking you back as you had never seen him like this. You eventually tangle your fingers into his slightly mused hair to pull him off of you, panting loudly as you take in breaths of air.

A low groan rumbles from the back of Chuuya’s throat as he subconsciously moves back down to chase your lips, only to be met with your hand tugging on his hair again and an airy laugh from you. “Chuuya, slow down.”

Chuuya lets out a heavy huff, head falling to rest in the crook of your neck as his hands move up to rub along your sides. “You make it hard, pretty girl– ‘specially with this dress on. God, it drives me crazy knowing you wore this for someone else, s’just not fair,” He groans, fingers dragging down to finally push your dress over your hips to reveal your bare cunt to him. You weren’t wearing a damn thing underneath your dress. Chuuya feels at a loss for words, lips parting and pressing together in attempts to find the words he’s looking for before uttering a soft, “Fuck,” And meeting your gaze. “You’re not wearing anything,” He shakily utters, cock twitching to strain against his pants.

“I kind of forgot to do my laundry last night…” You shrug with a timid grin.

He nearly laughs— it’s just like you to do something like this— but he’s too distracted by the way your hand runs through his hair and legs shamelessly rubbing together to do so, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. He’s quick to decide his next moves at the sight, hands gripping your thighs to spread them open as he shifts himself down the bed to hover between your legs.

There’s a strangled noise that squeaks out from your throat at his impatient movements, cheeks burning when his rough hands press against the insides of your thighs to press your legs against the mattress, leaving yourself on full display for him. “What are you doing?” You slightly squirm beneath him.

“Stop that,” He orders firmly, pressing his hands harder down against your thighs. “I wanna taste you,” He murmurs, lips pressing down just below your belly button before moving down to your drooling cunt, his breath hot on your sensitive skin. If he wasn’t hard before, he certainly was now, grunting at the feeling of his aching length pressed against the mattress.

“You don’t have to do that, Chuuya,” You card a hand through his coppery tresses, tugging them for him to look at you.

Chuuya’s mismatched eyes trail up to meet yours, brows narrowed, face still hovering close to you. “I’m doing this cause I want to, dollface, so quit stalling and let me eat this pretty pussy out,” He huffs, bringing a hand down to spread your slick folds apart with his fingers. “Fuck, Sweetheart, can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this,” He groans, leaning in to place a wet kiss against your core. There’s a deep chuckle that leaves him when your hips jolt faintly under his touch and you bite back a moan. “Filthy girl, you like me kissing on your sloppy cunt like this?” He growls out, lips meet your warm insides again, moving against your labia and dripping entrance lewdly as his tongue slips out to lap up your arousal.

You can’t help but tighten your fingers in his hair, whimpering at the feeling of him making out with your pussy, tongue dragging through your lower lips painfully slow to savor your taste all the while staring up at you intensely through his lashes. “Chuuya…”

Chuuya hums softly against you, parting from your pussy with a soft kiss to your clit. “You taste so fuckin’ good, y’know that, pretty girl? Could’ve been doing this ages ago instead of wasting your time on those other guys,” He sighs, readjusting his arms to wrap around each of your thighs and rest them on his shoulders as he leaned back in to wrap his lips around your throbbing clit. His hips grind subtly into the mattress, desperate to rid of the stiffness in his weeping cock, whining lowly into you.

A gasp slips from your parted lips, hips bucking into him needily. “T-Thought you weren’t interested so I— ah— didn’t say anything. Mm! Shit, that feels really good, Chuuya,” You moan out when he sucks harshly at your sensitive nub, your fingers tangling into his messy hair further as you tug at them.

“Could’ve jus’ asked, doll,” He muffles, detaching his lips briefly to spit a glob of saliva onto your clit, watching it trail down to your entrance before bringing his thumb to swipe it back up to your clit, rubbing it in to mix with your arousal. “Like I’d pass up a gorgeous girl like you,” He trails off, burying himself back into you to plunge his tongue past your tight entrance, smothering your spit slickened nub with his thumb.

Your hips only grind harder against him with each curl of his tongue and rub of his thumb, eyes fluttering shut tightly and lips parting further with each broken moan. It’s difficult to respond or even think much with the stirring pleasure coiled in your lower stomach, the only words falling from your mouth being his name. You can’t even move away from the overwhelming pleasure when your release crashes down on you without warning, his arms locking you against him tightly, lips noisily smacking and slurping up everything you have to offer, his own loud groans reverberating against your pussy as he humps against the mattress with fervor, chasing his own high.

You let out a soft cry when he continues eating you out, rolling your pulsing clit between his teeth and tongue before suckling roughly, attempting to pull another orgasm out of you. “Oh, fuck! Chuuya, please— can’t— fuck, fuck— m’coming again,” You choke between whimpers, pulling roughly at his hair as you mindlessly buck your hips against his face until you’re coming for a second time on his tongue which has his own hips stuttering against the mattress as he comes in his pants.

Chuuya finally pulls himself away, placing a final kiss to your inner thigh before shifting to his knees and climbing back over you to cup the side of your neck and pull you into a needy kiss, the taste of your cum still on his tongue. “Y’pretty when you lose yourself like that, dollface. Had me comin’ in my pants,,” He chuckles breathlessly, trailing kisses down your chin to your neck and then back up to peck your lips. “You okay?” He asks, watching you tremble beneath him.

You give a lazy nod, your eyes meeting him to see his pupils lust-blown, hair wildly messed up, and chin drenched with your slick. One of your hands moves to the side of his face, thumb swiping over his chin to wipe away some of the mess he made with a small smile. “I’m okay,” You whisper, voice a bit raspy. “Are you okay?”

He gives you a lopsided grin, catching his breath, “Yeah, M’fine, sweetheart.” He then moves to lay beside you, tugging your dress all the way off your body to toss aside and pepper kisses along your shoulder, curling up against you. He ignores the dark stain in his slacks, leaving it to be a problem for later as he relaxes.

“Hey… Chuuya,” You call out, head turning to face him, nose bumping against his.

“Yeah, doll?”

“I lied about going on more than the one date tonight, I just wanted to see your reaction,” You admit, watching Chuuya’s face twist into multiple different emotions before settling on a blank look.

“You’re not walking for a week after tonight.”

“Woah! Let’s talk about this, I was just joshin’ you!“

“We’ll see how funny it is when you’re using crutches—“

it’s him

Lil something for a moot on Twitter. Drew it on a small canvas, so pardon poor quality ;v;

"𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄"

𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘮𝘪 𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘰

In which, Megumi is certain he could never match your boldness. From the very moment you crossed paths, you had the sheer audacity to ask him out, as if fate had already decided for the both of you. By some twist of luck—or misfortune, as he first thought—he eventually relented after finding himself stranded in a mall with you and his classmates. Now, as he's stuck with his decision lingering in the air, he isn't quite sure what to do with himself.

Surely, he hasn't gone and fallen for some random, starry-eyed girl... Has he?

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"What?"

"Can you take me out?"

"..."

"..."

"Like... take you out... with a gun?" Megumi squinted at the girl, deliberately playing dumb for the sake of his own sanity.

In the thirty seconds he’d known you, he still couldn’t decide if this was some kind of elaborate prank or an unforeseen psychological endurance test.

You were just some random girl, balancing a volleyball in one hand and a drink in the other, looking as if you had all the time in the world. He had bumped into you, apologized, and somehow, in the span of a heartbeat, you had turned this into a flirtation.

And the way you stood there—completely unshaken, your expression unwavering—only deepened his confusion. Did you even realize how reckless your words sounded? Were you joking, or was this an actual death wish?

Logic told him to walk away. Instead, he indulged you.

"You’re funny, but the answer’s no." you chuckled, an effortless, unbothered smile spreading across your face. "I meant, take me out on a date."

It was a nice smile, Megumi noted absently, but it threw him off. He had seen confessions before—people fumbling over words, faces flushed with embarrassment—yet here you were, standing before him, calm and composed as if asking for a date was as routine as ordering food off of a menu.

"...You... I don’t even know your name." His voice was slower this time, laced with uncertainty.

"Y/N L/N. That’s my name."

A faint twitch formed beneath his eye, frustration—or something like it—surfacing. You were too casual, too self-assured, and it was messing with his composure.

He had no idea how to react. Who even were you? And why was this happening in the middle of a dimly lit subway station?

The air was thick with the scent of iron and concrete, the distant hum of an approaching train filling the silence between you and he can't help but feel trapped.

"...So... would you take me on a date? Or would you rather I take you on one? Both seem like pretty good options." You tilted your head slightly when he averted his gaze.

"...I—I don’t get it. What... Why would you even want to date me? We just met." Megumi stuttered.

The headache was inevitable now. Normally, turning people down wasn’t an issue for him—he was blunt by nature. But you? For some reason, he hesitated. It frustrated him how easily you disarmed him with nothing but sheer confidence.

And yet, there was something oddly considerate in the way you carried yourself, like you already understood that this wasn’t the appropriate time or place for such a question but didn’t mind either way.

"...Well... huh, how do I explain this..." You mused aloud, tossing your volleyball into the air before catching it again. "Hypothetically speaking, would me saying that I find you attractive not be a good enough response?"

Megumi tensed.

"...Well... it’s certainly a response." He grumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, gaze darting away as heat crept up his neck.

What kind of courage did you have to say something like that with a straight face? Were you even real?

"...Not a good one, I assume?"

"Not really."

A brief silence stretched between you, punctuated only by the distant screech of an incoming train.

"...So would you take me out on a date?"

Was this girl serious?

"I mean... I just met you... so no."

"...Alright."

Megumi studied your expression. You looked... slightly embarrassed now, like the reality of your own words had finally sunk in. With a quiet sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply before muttering:

"Maybe... if we meet again."

What was he even saying?

You blinked, then grinned. "Well... that sounds like a plan."

Finally, a bit of color dusted your cheeks as you took a sip of your drink. Megumi almost regretted wanting to see you flustered. He had only been curious—to confirm you were, in fact, human—but now that he had, it was making him blush too.

How annoying... Did he just become a sucker for a total stranger?

"You don’t really seem disappointed." Megumi noted, voice measured as he sheepishly scratched the back of his head.

"Well, I know it’s a weird question to ask someone you just met, and I can’t force you to take me out on a date." You laughed, barely acknowledging the train doors sliding open behind him.

"Why did you want to talk to me anyway?"

"I just thought you were a really romantic-looking kind of person and that I should talk to you. I figured you’d say no anyway."

Megumi huffed at that, the warmth in his face only deepening. Romantic-looking? What did that even mean?

"Sure."

He wasn’t convinced you weren’t messing with him.

The station was busier now—commuters moving around him, boarding the train, their chatter filling the space. He should’ve left already. Instead, he lingered, looking at you for just a moment longer than necessary.

"Well, is it okay if you tell me your name?" You asked, tilting your head.

He hesitated. Why was he hesitating?

"It’s Fushiguro." The words left him reluctantly as he finally took a step forward.

"No full name?" You teased, even though you weren’t sure you’d ever see him again. All you knew was that you liked this guy—a lot—and you wanted to keep talking to him.

Megumi exhaled, almost groaning. You were persistent. It was something he could respect, at least.

"...Megumi. Megumi Fushiguro."

Your expression softened. "That’s a pretty name. Alright, I won’t hold you up any longer. Bye, handsome."

Megumi turned away entirely, stepping into the train without so much as a backward glance. You had thoroughly embarrassed him.

You sighed, watching as the train doors slid shut. Then, with a small, amused shake of your head, you made your way up the station stairs, heading toward where your friend was waiting.

Megumi Fushiguro probably thought you were insane.

But if you ever saw him again, you’d definitely take another shot.

Something about him was just too cool to let go.

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Fushiguro, right?"

"Yeah, that's my name." He sighed, weariness laced in his tone.

"Can I call you Megumi?"

Megumi looked at you, another invisible tick mark forming on his forehead. Normally, he’d say no without hesitation, but something about the way you asked—your voice soft, your smile unguarded—made him hesitate. This was humiliating.

"Uh... sure, I guess."

"Well... this is kind of like a date, no?" You almost laughed, trying not to agitate the increasingly exasperated boy beside you.

It had been about two weeks—give or take—since your first encounter at the subway station. Now, fate (or misfortune, in Megumi’s case) had led to another meeting, this time involving an almost-spilled coffee. He had turned to apologize, only to recognize you, and in his moment of shock, actually dropped the drink.

You had offered to replace it, and despite every fiber of his being telling him not to indulge you, he had agreed... only because he still wanted coffee. And so, here you were, strolling alongside him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He held his coffee, you clutched a small box of cake for later, and the city hummed around you in the late afternoon light.

"Uh... this isn’t a date." Megumi corrected, desperate to shut down whatever delusions you might have.

"Are you sure? This seems like it would make for a pretty romantic walk."

Megumi’s grip on his cup tightened. Why would you use the word romantic? Now he was actively avoiding looking at you.

"Yeah, I’m sure." He sighed, eyes locked on the pavement.

"Well, how about we call it just hanging out then?" You grinned, stepping a little closer.

He took another slow sip of his coffee, waging an internal war. He didn’t like you—definitely not. He didn’t even want to be here. He was antisocial, and he sure as hell shouldn’t be entertaining you.

Love at first sight wasn’t real. He knew that. And yet... there was something about you that made him doubt his own reasoning. Maybe it was the way you so fearlessly inserted yourself into his life, as if fate had long decided you belonged there.

He could indulge you just a little longer... right?

"Sure. This can just be a hangout."

The moment he said it, he was rewarded with one of the most radiant smiles he’d ever seen.

"That’s good. Then maybe I can get you to date me after."

"That’s not going to happen."

"Why not? We know each other a little better now, don’t you think?"

"Yeah? I still barely know you." He tried not to let his smirk show, keeping his guard up even as he found you... oddly fun to be around.

"Well, you drink black coffee, and I like cake—"

"Most people like cake."

"And barely anyone likes black coffee. That makes you unique."

"But liking cake isn’t."

"Jeez, you’re missing the point." You huffed, crossing your arms, only for him to let out a small, unexpected chuckle.

"That’s fine. I’m making my own point," Megumi replied, entirely unfazed by your frustration. "We’re still technically strangers. At best, we’re acquaintances."

"Then tell me something about yourself. If that’s the problem, we can fix it."

"Absolutely not." He took another deliberate sip of his coffee.

"Can I talk about myself then?"

"Knock yourself out."

"Cool! So, I just switched schools, and I play volleyball there. At my old school, I used to be one of those people in the mascot suits—you know, the big fluffy animals? Yep, that was me. And recently, I got a job at a skating rink—"

You rambled on, jumping between topics as if your thoughts were spilling out faster than you could catch them. At first, Megumi thought it would be exhausting. But somehow, despite himself, he found that he was listening.

Maybe it was the way you spoke—so animated, so full of life—or the way your words painted pictures of your experiences in broad, reckless strokes. Even if it drained his social battery, he couldn’t help but keep up.

Then came the voice that made his head throb instantly.

"Megumi!"

He tensed. You turned, tilting your head at the tall man with white hair and a black blindfold. Why was he wearing a blindfold?

"Oh? Who’s that?"

"...That’s my teacher." Megumi groaned, already regretting this entire day.

"Hey! Who’s your friend?" Gojo grinned at you, his energy almost overwhelming.

"This is L/N—"

"Don’t call me that. Just Y/N, since I’m calling you Megumi." You interrupted, flashing a playful smile. Gojo raised an eyebrow, while Megumi flushed and glanced away, suddenly interested in the cracks in the pavement.

"Okay." Gojo smirked before turning back to you. "Nice to meet you, little lady. Name’s Gojo."

"Nice to meet you too, sir."

"Right... what were we talking about again?" You turned to Megumi, who simply sipped his coffee as if he hadn’t just been embarrassed.

"Someone named Yoko."

"Oh, right! Then there’s Yoko—he kind of hates me, so I don’t mess with him much even though I have to see him for advanced math almost every day. And then there’s my teacher, Mr. Touya—"

Gojo observed quietly, his grin deepening. You just kept talking, completely at ease, filling the space with an effortless energy most people lacked. But what amused him most was the way Megumi listened—really listened.

With a knowing smirk, he elbowed his student, earning an immediate, half-hearted swat in return.

Then, out of nowhere, you gasped dramatically. "Oh my gosh, do you want to know something?!"

Megumi nearly jumped, almost spilling his coffee again. "What!? What happened to your mother!?"

"Huh?"

"...Huh!?" Megumi stared, utterly baffled. You had been talking about your mom just a second ago—so why did you suddenly jump topics?

"What happened to your mother?" He repeated, exasperated but lowering his voice so it didn’t seem like he was yelling at you. Meanwhile, Gojo was practically shaking with silent laughter.

"Oh! Nothing happened to my mother," you said cheerfully, "but I just remembered my dad’s taking me to Paris in three weeks since he’s working overseas!"

Megumi’s brain short-circuited. How did you function like this? The sheer unpredictability of your conversations should have been annoying. Instead, it made him want to know more.

"Yep... so that’s my life. What’s yours?"

"You think just because you dumped your life story on me, you’ll get to know mine?"

"Why not?"

"It’s because he’s antisocial. But don’t worry, I’m sure he liked it—"

"Shut up." Megumi shot a glare at Gojo, only to hear you laugh.

"Well, I’ll see you later then, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess—"

"Oh, wait! Can I ask you again?"

Megumi hesitated. "Ask me what?"

"If you’ll take me out."

"Oh! That’d be sweet, but now that I think about it, he’s getting some of his teeth removed in a few days, so maybe not!" Gojo interrupted, earning an attempted slap on the back.

"No, I’m not taking you out... at least not yet." Megumi muttered, avoiding eye contact.

You grinned. "Alright then. See you soon, Megumi."

And with that, you walked away, waving as you left.

Silence stretched for about twenty seconds before Gojo grinned. "So... who was that lovely girl?"

"She's L/N. I met her like two weeks ago… and don’t start making stuff up about me, especially in front of her."

"Oh my gosh! Are you two dating? Is she your girlfriend? Wait—don’t tell me—have you two already—!? Megumi, you're too young for that!"

"What the hell!? No! We're just acquaintances, dammit! Now drop it!"

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Megumi didn’t ask for this. He didn’t want to be here. If given the choice, he’d much rather be cooking with Maki than wandering aimlessly through a crowded mall.

Nobara and Yuji had insisted on a shopping trip, dragging Megumi along for the ride—not that he had a say in the matter. Gojo made sure of that. But somehow, against all odds, he found himself bumping into you again. And again. At this point, it felt less like coincidence and more like the universe playing some kind of twisted joke on him.

Unfortunately, this time, he wasn’t alone. His ever-annoying teacher and equally troublesome classmates were with him, making the situation infinitely worse. He already knew what was coming.

Gojo, in all his meddling glory, had ratted him out to Nobara and Yuji, claiming—loudly—that you were his girlfriend. No amount of frantic yelling on Megumi’s part could convince them otherwise. If they saw you now, he’d never hear the end of it.

"Hey, Megumi! How are—"

"Don’t be so loud," he muttered, grabbing your forearm and steering you toward another section of the store as fast as humanly possible.

"I wasn’t being loud. What’s wrong?"

"Nothing. I just don’t want to be here."

Truthfully, he just didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. You were bold, he was reserved, and the contrast was enough to set his classmates off. He could already hear the teasing.

"You’re being kind of pushy, you know that? Are you taking me on that date now?" You grinned, following him without hesitation.

"Don’t ask me that anymore. You’re the most persistent person I’ve ever met."

"Aw, c’mon. It’s not like I’d be a bad date. I’d be fun—"

"You know what? Fine," Megumi hissed. "I’ll take you out. Just shush!"

Finally, he let you go, exhaling sharply—only to freeze as soon as he turned around.

Yuji.

Not him.

Megumi knew exactly what was coming next. Yuji had a habit of reporting every little interaction Megumi had with a girl.

So, without hesitation, Megumi dropped to all fours and crawled under a clothing rack, opting for the most ridiculous but effective method of escape. He didn’t even bother pulling you along—he just peeked out from under the rack, looking up at you like some desperate fugitive.

"Where are you going?" you whispered, baffled.

"Don’t mention me. At all. They don’t need to know—"

"Who?"

"Nobody. Just… annoying people who dragged me here."

"Well, I guess I should thank them, since I get to see your handsome face again. And now you’re taking me on a date." You smiled, unbothered, while Megumi’s face heated up yet again.

He groaned when he spotted Yuji approaching from behind you.

Yuji, for his part, had not expected to find Megumi crouched under a clothing rack, talking to a cute girl about dating.

"Uh… hey. What’s your name?"

You turned to face the boy with pink hair, dressed in the same uniform as Megumi.

"Y/N L/N. What’s yours?"

"Oh! I’m Yuji Itadori. I’ve heard a lot about you!"

"Really? That’s nice."

"Hey, Kugisaki! Gojo-sensei! Guess who Fushiguro found?!" Yuji shouted, drawing the attention of everyone in the store.

Megumi sighed in defeat. There was no running from this.

"Who?" Nobara strolled over, yawning, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

"The girl Megumi’s into!"

Megumi cringed as Yuji’s words rang out, immediately smacking him upside the head while you were distracted.

"Oh really?!" Nobara perked up, smirking as she placed a hand on her hip. "I’m Nobara Kugisaki. Best girl here—besides you, of course."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N!" You smiled, taking note of what Yuji had said. If you really were the girl Megumi was interested in, than that would mean he'd want to date you.

"Well, little lady, we were about to grab some food. Want to join us?" Gojo offered with a grin.

"I'd like that, if it's okay with you, Megumi." You nodded, and Megumi sighed before muttering a small, reluctant "Sure." Yuji and Nobara almost squealed at the way you so casually used his first name.

With that settled, everyone finished their purchases. Nobara immediately decided you needed some cute dresses and dragged you along, while Yuji chatted with you nonstop.

You seemed interesting enough, and you must have been pretty impressive to catch Megumi’s attention.

"Yeah, that's how we found out that not only is Megumi dyslexic, but he also has like twenty different types of gel for his hair. Oh, and don’t even get me started on the romance novels he has—"

"I do not have romance novels in my dorm room," Megumi growled, shooting a sharp glare at Nobara, who just laughed and kept talking. He had to correct her every ten seconds as she spun wild tales, much to your amusement.

He shouldn’t have cared. It shouldn’t have mattered whether they teased him or tried to pair him up with you. After all, it’s not like he actually liked you… He couldn’t like you… Right? He had only met you three weeks ago.

"Yeah, Kugisaki, don’t make stuff up when they’d be so cute together. Just like Gojo would say, ‘Get off of him, you damn homewreckers!’" Yuji teased, grinning. "Though the gel thing is totally true."

"I’m going to kill all of you," Megumi grumbled under his breath. You just laughed, nearly doubling over at how flustered he was.

"You shouldn’t kill us," Gojo chimed in, smirking. "Especially when we’re going to be the ones at your wedding—"

"Stop it!" Megumi snapped, his face burning as laughter erupted around him.

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"So, where would you take me?"

"I don't know... Probably a cafe or something." Megumi replied, almost forgetting that, by some miracle, he had actually agreed to this.

Though, he was starting to realize he had been lying to himself. It wasn’t that he outwardly liked you the way you did him…

But he was lying about not falling for you. Because at the very least, he wanted to be around you. And for someone like him—someone who rarely wanted to be around anyone—that meant something.

"Well, it's a good thing you gave me your number, so now I can text you about it later." You smiled, looking up at the sky, streaked in soft hues of sunset.

"I guess."

Meanwhile, Yuji, Nobara, and Gojo were doing an absolutely horrible job at being inconspicuous as they spied from the food court. The two of you had stepped outside to talk, and, like a group of nosy children, they couldn’t help themselves.

"What that boy Itadori said—was it true?" you asked suddenly.

"What did he say?"

"That you're into me?"

Megumi had to physically restrain himself from scowling. He was definitely going to smack the hell out of Yuji when they got back to campus.

Then again… he might as well tell the truth. Was he into you? Hypothetically, he shouldn’t be—not when the two of you barely knew each other. But in reality… yes. Yes, he was into you.

And he blamed you for it. It was your fault he felt this way.

"Yeah." He finally admitted.

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. You had only brought it up to tease him—you hadn't actually expected him to admit it.

"... Really? I'm into you too."

"I know that. You made that pretty clear when we first met." Megumi chuckled, looking at you with an ease that was rare for him.

For once, he wasn’t annoyed or stressed. He didn’t look like he wanted to strangle someone. He just looked… calm. And that made you even more excited.

"Right."

"..."

"..."

"I can't actually believe you're going to take me on a date!" you beamed, barely able to contain your excitement.

"Yeah, well, I can't believe it either. I can’t even really believe I like you, so imagine how I feel."

Nobara sighed dramatically from her hiding spot. "This is getting boring. How long do we have to wait for something interesting to happen?"

"Shh!" Yuji whisper-yelled, elbowing her—only to get elbowed back.

"Ow! Quit it!"

"Shut up! I don't—"

"They're gonna notice us," Gojo warned, lifting his blindfold slightly. It was enough to immediately silence them.

Back outside, you checked the time and sighed. "Welp, I gotta go. But it was nice seeing you again—and meeting your friends." You smiled, completely unaware of the spying trio.

"I'll see you later."

"Alright. Bye—oh, wait!"

You quickly turned back and, before Megumi could react, leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. Then, just as easily, you waved him goodbye and strolled off like you hadn’t just sent his entire system into shock.

Megumi felt it—his face heating up, his chest doing that stupid thing where it beats too fast. At this rate, you were going to give him heart failure.

"Woah!" a voice exclaimed.

Megumi turned sharply, only to find the three idiots huddled behind a bush. They weren’t even trying to be subtle anymore.

"Did you see that?! That was so cute!" Gojo gushed, peeking at the picture Yuji had taken.

"Hell yeah, it was! The picture turned out great!"

"It did?! Let me see! Oh my gosh, that’s so sweet! And now they’re going on their first date?" Nobara smirked.

"This is amazing! They have so much chemistry! I’ll bet you ten thousand yen they’ll end up in the same bed in two months—"

"I’m giving you all five seconds." Megumi’s voice was eerily calm as he loomed over the bush.

That was all the warning they needed before they bolted back into the mall, leaving Megumi standing there, still red-faced, cursing the fact that he had ever left his dorm today.

literally me.

i'll take a quiet life