gojo likes to try incorporating you into his workouts. ☆

when he had first suggested you join him in the home gym, you’d thought he meant to work out alongside him. and sure, keeping up with the strongest is a miracle you weren’t planning on performing, but you had gotten dressed in some nice gym clothes to at least get into the mood.

just for him to have you naked within the first few minutes. laid out on your back while gojo holds a plank between your spread legs.

apparently to satoru, the best motivation to keep his plank going is the reward of your taste. for as long as he can hold himself up, he lets himself feast.

“i could have motivated you verbally,” your back arches up off the mat as your boyfriend flattens his tongue against your clit. you resist the urge to reach down and pull his hair, lest you throw him off-balance and he denies himself your pussy until he can hold another plank.

“you are,” the vibrations of his words against your heat does more to wreck you than they probably should. “keep those pretty moans up. i wanna hear you.”

he latches around your clit and sucks, which forces you to oblige almost instantly. god, you want to drag him upstairs and into bed and ride him for all he’s worth. “right there,” you exhale. “you’re doing so good, toru.”

“call me strong,” he moans.

“really?” you snort through your nose. “you don’t hear that enough?”

“nope. do it.”

“you’re sooo strong, toru.” you laugh. “strong and pretty.”

satoru lowers his head to lick a long stripe from your entrance up to your clit, the motion making your laughs turn to moans and his jaw slacken with…

did he just orgasm from that? god he’s full of himself.

“you done?” you lift your head to look down at him. he’s resting his flushed face against your parted thigh, but manages to shake his head nonetheless.

“not until you are,” and he’s latching back on, working you to orgasm with only his mouth: no hands to play with your pretty folds, no strong arms to hold you down and lessen your writhing… you want to hate how good he is at this, but you’re so fucking close to the edge.

a part of you wants to force it down, try and prolong this pleasure as long as you can. both to feel the glory of his tongue a while longer and also to fuck with him, keep him in this plank for as long as you can.

but you couldn’t stop this even if you did try. soon enough, you’re squeezing your eyes shut and letting satoru hear his name fall from your lips as you cum. it’s the best orgasm you’ve had in a while, which is saying something considering he gives you multiple a day.

and finally, once your legs have stopped shaking, he lowers himself out of his plank and sits on his heels in front of you.

“what the fuck,” you look him over. “why don’t you look tired?”

stupid question, maybe. all he gives you in return is a grin and a gentle smack to your sensitive pussy. you’re sure you look like the one who’s been putting all the work in: he hasn’t even broken a fucking sweat.

“you need a break?” he asks, tilting his head like a cocky dog. “or you think you can ride me while i do my hip thrusts?”

this is a repost from my old deactivated account. i did not steal this, so if you accuse me of stealing this i will put you in a very large jar and fill it with my choice of unnamed liquid

“It’ll be resolution-ary. Get it? Like revolutionary, but because we’re doing resolutions?” ☆

(fem reader)

It’s over breakfast at the wonky dining room table that your boyfriend Gojo decides to subscribe to the New Year, New Me fad that sweeps the nation with every orbit around the sun. His plate has practically been licked clean, once stacked tall with these high protein pancakes (with extra chocolate chips) that you tried out a recipe for to aid his bulk. You like it when he eats more. Makes his arms bigger.

Said big arms reach over the dish-clad table to grab his laptop as you drag in a breath.

“How come you’re suddenly set on self improvement?” you ask, leaning over to grab his plate and pushing it to the side to make room for his laptop.

“You can’t improve perfection,” Gojo looks sideways at you. “But I have my reasons. We could do it together! How romantic, becoming our best selves together…”

You roll your eyes at the dreamy tone he uses, and pull your chair closer to his as he types in ‘New Years Resolution List’ into the search bar. He doesn’t shop around, clicking on the first article that pops up, though his face drops when the screen loads up and the title flashes across the display.

‘FIVE NEW YEARS RESOLUTIONS TO MAKE YOUR 2016 RESOLUTION-ARY!’

“What the hell?” Your boyfriend pulls a face of genuine disgust. “They stole my joke.”

“Considering this was posted ten years ago , I think you’re a little late to the party,” you offer him a consoling pat on the shoulder, but Gojo just pouts and clicks out of the list, finding another one that hasn’t stolen his intellectual property.

‘THE ULTIMATE NEW YEARS RESOLUTIONS, A LIST FOR YOU!’

“Much better,” he’s back in spirits. “Get a pen, babe, let’s write these down.”

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letting gojo fuck you raw might have been a mistake, especially now that he wants kids.. ☆

part one here

yes—it felt good. heavenly, even. feeling him fill you up without a contraceptive barrier between you might overlap an ego death on the life-altering-experiences venn diagram.

but now your boyfriend throws a tantrum whenever you tell him to wrap it. he pouts and whines and stamps his fucking feet like a child at your child-preventativemeasures. he’s too tall to act like a toddler—if you didn’t secretly enjoy the pining you’d hit him upside the back of his head and tell him to stop sulking.

“we’re too young to be parents,” you’d tell him as he rubs his uncovered cock through your folds, from your entrance up to your sensitive clit and back down.

his counter? “ the earlier we start, the longer we have to try for more.”

“maybe you’re forgetting the whole ‘jujutsu sorcerer, could-die-at-any-moment’ thing?”

“are you forgetting that i’m the strongest? plus, i think i’d look hot saving the world wearing a baby carrier… not that i would endanger our kid like that. bad point, ask me a new one.”

“we aren’t playing trivia.”

“cmon,” a tap of the head of his cock to your clit. “humour me.”

“alright, children are fucking expensive.”

“babe, you’re not serious—you do know i’m filthy rich, right? capitalism fears me. i’m like that rich disney duck with the top hat and—”

you point a finger in his face. “put a goddamn condom on or you’re banned from sex for a month, scrooge.”

and he blinks, pretends to be offended at how responsible you are, and then falls into an easy smile because sex with you is more than enough for him. when he sinks into you, condom-covered or not, he falls a little bit more in love each time.

but it is not the same and you know it.

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gojo hates condoms ☆

not even in an ‘ i can’t feel a thing’ frat-fuck way either. he just wants to be close to you. he’s touch starved as it is and being inside of you is quite literally the closet he can be to you. why would he want a barrier between his achy length and your silken walls?

he hates condoms. hates them like they’re pointing south on his moral compass. hates them like they hurt to use—which they do, in a way—the mental anguish feels real to him, at least. he picks up a fuss in the grocery store when you pull a pack of ribbed condoms from the shelf to try because whywould you seek pleasure from artificial ridges when the protruding veins of his cock would feel just as good if not dressed in a condom?

sometimes he eats you out for twice as long as usual to get you really fucked out and dumb. he’ll make you cum hard and fast and so much that your mind is a mess in the hopes that you’ll forget all about your safety precautions and let him feel you from the inside out. but you always catch on. with a tsk and a finger pointed to the draw where he keeps the horrid things out of sight.

so when you let him fuck you raw for the first time, gojo is reeling. it’s on the condition that he promises to pull out, and promise he does—with a pinky finger hooked around yours and his lips to his thumb—he promisesto pull out.

he decides on missionary, because as much as he loves the hundred different positions he knows how to wrangle you into, he wants to connect with you. to make love, not fuck.

and even your wetness against his tip is enough to jolt his stomach downwards. collecting your glossing over his angry head as he rubs himself up and down your folds—he would cum just like this if he wasn’t so stuck on feeling all of you. you’re warm and wet and tight as he pushes against your entrance and oh god he’s going to cum already.

“oh,” he stills, eyes deadset on yours as he slides into you. his tip is rubbing against that spot that makes your back arch upwards and it takes everything in you not to laugh at the distraught look on his face as he says “i have to pull out.”

“you’re joking, right?”

“i really wish i was baby,” he looks pained. he’s never felt something so heavenly and ungodly at the same time. he wants to do bad things, to fuck you into the mattress and breed you full of himself until you’re too weak to care about the aftermath of such recklessness. “i can’t pull out.”

“what?” you laugh, his balls tighten at the sound.

“if i move—” satoru has never looked so serious, “—i will cum. this was a bad idea. why would you let me do this?”

“you’re the one always—”

“actually don’t argue with me, you know what it does to me.” he squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on anything other then the way you feel around him. he does math in his head, thinks about the people he’s killed, how much he loves you… how pretty you look right now… growing old with you.

“i swear you’re getting harder inside of—”

“imsorryiloveyoubutpleasebequietorelseyouaregoingtogetpregnant.”

it takes him a minute of mental gymnastics to feel confident enough to start slowly sliding out of you, but all hope dies when the heel of your foot presses against his ass and with a smile made of sin you pull him deeper inside of you.

he opens his mouth to protest, to tell you he is not joking and all that comes out is a beautiful strangled moan that makes you tighten around him. for a man who claims to be the strongest he is rather weak-willed when it comes to your pussy. he needs to cum so hard that it hurts, but a fear of maybe ruining your life and relationship digs his teeth into his bottom lip.

“don’t do this to me,” he whines.

but you’re smiling. you’re so tight and wet and beautiful and everything he’s ever dreamt of having and holding and you’re smiling. “satoru,” you say, and he’s weak. “cum inside.”

anything for you. it’s gorgeous: the way he lets loose, falling forward to press all his weight into you as he groans and his balls release in hot spurts that you can feel painting your insides white. it’s the connection, the intimacy, the tears that prick at his eyes.

and he doesn’t pull out. no, he presses his hips forward to fuck his cum as deep into you as he possibly can and he vows to throw out every condom in the goddamn house.

god he hates condoms.

this is a repost from my account that was #deleted (also @fricks) so if you accuse me of stealing this i will literally eat your ass and not in the good way like it will be digesting in my stomach

satoru gojo likes it when you pull his hair.

so much so that when he’s between your legs, lapping away at your cunt like it’s his full time job, he gets jealous when you grip the sheets instead.

he’ll pull away, his lips and chin glistening with your mess, and frown so dramatically that you can’t not roll your eyes at him. he’s flushed and licking his lips because he misses your taste already, but he’s also giving you these awful puppy dog eyes: blue boring into you in a manner almost blinding.

“is the bed sucking on your clit right now?” he points a long finger, one that had just been curling inside of you, right at you.

you blink at him. “you’re not either. stop talking, satoru.”

“so you hate me.”

“i don't—”

“you hate me and you want me to die. i get it.”

“shut up,” your hand dips down to grab at his hair and forcefully pull him back against your pussy. he moans at the tug and very happily resumes his meal.

high maintenance boyfriends….

satoru tries to be nonchalant and mysterious when u fuck by staying silent and fucking you like the guys in porn do: no moans, no flavour, nothing. but he lasts about two strokes before literally gasping out the most pornographic moan and refusing to shut up from that point onwards.

hes so talkative, moaning and rambling on about how good and tight you feel wrapped around his cock that he starts to sound stupidly cumdrunk. the only time he’s not talking is when he’s got his tongue in ur mouth and even then he’s still moaning like he’s in heat.

toru is so loud too, like you get noise complaints regularly. he never shut up, and when he cums the whole city ends up knowing about it because he’s on the verge of tears and begging for you to milk him dry and there’s no such thing as too loud when it’s you he’s fucking. he encourages you to let him hear you, wants the neighbours to know just how good he lays it down for you… he’s so annoying i love him

when fratboy!satoru takes your virginity you kind of expect him to be an ass about it. ☆

he’s cocky as it is, and has a habit of gassing himself up too much when it comes to his… skills in the bedroom. if you’re not listening to him talk about how he’s the strongest, you’re listening to him talk about how he’s the biggest.

being the only virgin of your friend group was starting to grate on you and… a small part of you might’ve wanted to find out if there’s any bite to satoru’s bark. it’s not like the two of you were dating or anything, but you felt comfortable enough to walk up to him one day during lunch and ask, in front of his best friend:

“will you take my virginity?”

maybe you expected him to blush. or freeze up. or at least trip over his words. but instead, the stupid white-haired prick looked up at you with the most relaxed expression possible and shrugged.

“okay.”

and that’s how you ended up here, sitting criss-cross applesauce on his messy dorm-room bed with his tongue halfway down your throat. a few empty cans of beer and abandoned cheat sheets lay strewn over his floor, and you hate yourself for letting this be the backdrop of your entry into the sex-having life.

but you can’t hate yourself for long because as he runs a hand up your thigh and under your skirt, you start to feel more excited than you thought you’d feel. he pushes you back, slots his knee between your thighs and bites at your bottom lip before trailing down to your throat.

still, it’s satoru, so when he pushes your panties to the side and feels just how wet you are for him, he laughs. “you get this wet when you touch yourself or is all of this just for me?”

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