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so has anybody thought about butler alastor and royal luci bc i cant go down on this hill alone

kissing the tip of zaynes cock, eyes locked on his as he tries to maintain his demeanour. he's grateful for every aspect of your attention, but your gentle kisses to his angry leaky head is sending him reeling.

"my love, don't tease me," he's in heat, breathing heavy as he watches you prolong his pleasure with your tongue circling around his tip. "i don't want to finish like this."

he doesn't want to be crude and force your head down on his cock but he's aching to be enveloped by you. yearning, even, to be inside of you in any capacity. it's awful what you've done to him: he can't even cum without you present anymore. his fist doesn't cut it, you've rewired his brain, ruined his libido.

though he's nearly sent to see the pearly gates in person when you take him, in his entirety, down to the base. and he cums deep in your throat the second you do, with a strangled moan straight from his chest and a buck of his hips that forces him far back enough in your throat to make you gag.

he tries to look unimpressed, like your merciless teasing didn't fry his brain like it did, but the blush to his cheeks and the gentle smile on his lips says otherwise. he can pretend to be mad in other regards, like fucking you mean in punishment.

beneath the mistletoe — satoru gojo

having a crush on your brother's best friend is bad enough. having that best friend look better at every family dinner is just cruel. but worst of all? he's noticed your not-so-subtle staring.

It should be illegal how Satoru Gojo manages to look better every goddamn single Christmas dinner.

You watch him over the rim of your glass as he throws his head back laughing at something your aunt just said, the sound rich and warm like honey. And it doesn't help that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, giving you a perfect view of his unfairly handsome forearms.

Your grip tightens on your glass as he runs a hand through those perfect white strands of his, and you catch yourself wondering, not for the first time, if they're as soft as they look.

It's been like this for years now — ever since your brother Suguru first brought his college roommate home for the holidays, Satoru's own family being overseas.

Now he's practically part of the family, showing up to every gathering with that infuriating smile and those stupidly blue eyes that seem to find you no matter where you are in the room.

You deliberately focus on your plate, stabbing a potato with perhaps more force than necessary. But your eyes, the traitors, keep drifting back to him of their own accord. It's frustrating, really.

Almost impossible not to notice the way his white hair falls just so over his forehead, or how his jaw flexes when he's deep in thought, or the way his throat moves when he takes a sip of wine.

Not that you're looking at his throat.

You're not.

(You totally are.)

And then, because the universe hates you, he catches you staring.

Those blue eyes lock with yours across the table, and his lips curl into a faint smile that makes your stomach flip. You nearly choke on your wine, quickly averting your gaze to study the tablecloth like it's the most fascinating thing you've ever seen.

"Stop staring at my best friend," Suguru whispers as he passes behind your chair.

Shit. Was it that obvious?

After dinner, you escape to the back porch, needing some air that isn't thick with the scent of cinnamon and Satoru's cologne. The winter night is crisp and clear, your breath forming little clouds in the darkness.

You're not surprised when you hear the door open behind you, or when the familiar scent of cigarette smoke wafts your way.

"Those things will kill you, Suguru," you say without turning around.

"That's what I keep telling him," Satoru's voice chimes in, and you turn to find them both strolling onto the porch, your stomach dropping. Suguru takes another deliberate drag of his cigarette, maybe just to spite you both, while Satoru wrinkles his nose.

"Speaking of things that might kill you," Satoru says, "how's that final year of college treating you?"

You try to focus on the question, but it's difficult when the porch light is hitting his eyes just right, making them look impossibly bluer and you have to resist the urge to melt under his gaze.

"It's fine," you manage, aiming for nonchalant. "Just trying to survive my thesis."

"Ah, your thesis." His lips quirk up in that stupidly attractive way of his. "What was your topic again? Something about modern interpretations of folklore?"

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. You mentioned it exactly once, months ago, during summer break. You hadn't expected him to remember.

"Japanese urban legends and their evolution through social media," you correct him, trying not to read too much into the fact that he remembered at all. "Though at this point, it's more like about my own evolution into madness."

Suguru snorts, flicking ash off his cigarette. "Please, you're the only person I know who actually enjoys research. I've seen your color-coded spreadsheets."

"Some of us like being organized," you shoot back.

As if on cue, your aunt's voice carries from inside. "Suguru! Can you come help your father with something?"

Suguru sighs, crushing his cigarette under his heel before heading inside, leaving you alone with Satoru. And suddenly the porch feels much smaller than it did a moment ago.

Great.

"So," Satoru says, shifting closer until his arm brushes yours. "Going to tell me why you've been watching me all night?"

Heat floods your cheeks. "I haven't—"

"You're not as subtle as you think," he interrupts. "I can feel you glaring holes into the back of my head whenever I'm around."

"I don't glare," you protest weakly.

"No?" His voice drops lower as he steps closer, backing you against the porch railing. "Then what would you call it?"

You swallow hard, trying to ignore how good he smells up close. "Curious observation?"

He laughs, the sound sending warmth spreading through your chest despite the cold. "Is that what we're calling it now?" Then his eyes flick up. "Would you look at that?"

You follow his gaze to see a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the porch ceiling, definitely not there earlier today. You're going to kill your mother. Or your aunt. Or your cousin.

Maybe all of them.

"We don't have to—" you start to say, but Satoru's already leaning in, moving into your space with that casualness he's always had, like being this close to you is the most natural thing in the world.

"I've been waiting for an excuse to kiss you since sophomore year," he murmurs. "Please don't ruin this for me."

Oh.

Oh.

His lips meet yours before you can process that confession, soft and warm and tasting faintly of the mulled wine from dinner. Your hands find their way to his chest as he cups your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he kisses you like he's been thinking about it for years.

And the truth is, he has.

When you finally break apart, his forehead resting against yours, you say, "Suguru's never going to let us live this down."

"Worth it." Satoru smiles, stealing another quick kiss. "Though I should probably thank him for the mistletoe."

"You knew?"

"Of course I knew. Who do you think helped him put it up?"

You smack his chest, but he just catches your hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Merry Christmas to me," he says with a wink.

And despite yourself, you can't help but smile back. "Merry Christmas, you idiot."

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 (∩︵∩)

⇢ 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐝 𝐣𝐚𝐲𝐜𝐞, 𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 (𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬), 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 ,,𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲" (𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲)

𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐲. 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫

Jayce Talis is big, and he knows it. He knows he stretches you past your limit, knows your tight little pussy can barely take him, and he lives for it— the way you tremble underneath him, the way your breath hitches when he presses his thick cock against your entrance, the way you whimper when the blunt head pushes inside, splitting you apart.

Too Big, Too Thick, and He Wants You to Feel Every Inch

He takes his time at first—lets you feel the ache of him stretching you open, his cock pressing against your walls inch by inch, your body struggling to take him. "Shit, baby, you're so tight—" His fingers dig into your thighs, his voice rough he forces himself deeper, groaning as your walls squeeze around him "Fuck, look at you-already shaking, and I'm not even all the way in."

And when you whimper, when you clutch at his shoulders, shaking your head, babbling that he's too big—he just grins. "C'mon, baby, you can take it. Let me make you feel full."

Holds You Down So You Can't Escape the Stretch

The second he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours, he stills. Just lets you feel it, feel how deep he is, feel how he's stuffing you so full you can barely breathe. "Mmm, fuck-look at you, baby. So fucking stretched, so full-you feel that? Feel me all the way in your fucking stomach?" He presses a big, warm hand to your lower belly, groaning when he feels himself inside you, thick and deep, your walls fluttering around him. "Shit, baby, I'm wrecking you, huh?"

And when you try to squirm, try to pull back even an inch, his grip tightens. "Nah, baby. You wanted me to fuck you like this, right? So take it.”

Fucks You So Deep It Knocks the Air Out of You

Once he starts moving? You're done.

Jayce doesn't hold back-doesn't care that his cock is too big for you, that every thrust forces your walls to stretch even wider, that every deep, brutal snap of his hips has you gasping, hands scrambling for something to hold onto.

"Ohhh, baby-fuck, you feel that? So fucking deep" He loves the way you whimper, loves the way your body clenches down on him, loves the way he can see himself splitting you apart, your pussy stretched tight around his thick cock. "Fuck, look at this little cunt -gripping me like you don't wanna let me go."

Loves Watching You Struggle to Take It All

Jayce knows he's too big, and it drives him crazy seeing you try to take him-seeing the way your eyes roll back, the way your mouth falls open, the way your body shakes from the effort of taking his cock so fucking deep. "Ohhh, baby-shit, you're struggling, huh?" He watches your pussy stretch around him, his cock bulging against your stomach with every deep thrust, and it makes him feral. "You were made for this, baby. Made to take me—look at how perfect this pussy is, stretching just for me."

And when you start babbling-"Too much, Jayce, too big, I can't-"—he just groans, slamming his hips forward, making you scream. "Ohh, baby, yes you can. You can take it."

Won't Stop Until You're Crying on His Cock

You're a mess-tears pricking at your eyes, thighs shaking, body wrecked-but Jayce? He's not done. He loves seeing you like this, so fucked out you can barely think, your pussy stretched so wide around him that it looks like you can't possibly take anymore. "Mmm, fuck, look at you— so wrecked for me, baby. You love this, don't you? Love getting split open on my thick fucking cock?" He grinds his hips, forcing himself even deeper, watching as you wail, body arching, completely at his mercy.

"Yeah, baby-fucking take it. Take every inch."

Fucks You Until You're Gushing

And then he really ruins you. His thrusts get sharper, meaner, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast, rough circles as his cock slams against that perfect little spot inside you. "Gonna make you cum for me, baby-gonna make you squirt all over this fucking cock-" And you do-your whole body snapping tight, a choked, wrecked scream breaking from your lips as you gush around him, soaking his cock, your thighs, the sheets.

"Fuuuck-look at that, baby-so fucking messy-" But he doesn't stop. Keeps fucking into you, forcing more out of you, watching with wide, hungry eyes as you drip for him, your body spasming, completely ruined.

"Shit, baby, this pussy was made for me."

Fills You Up Until You Can't Hold Anymore

Jayce is losing it-his thrusts getting erratic, his hands gripping your hips so hard they'll bruise, his breath coming out in rough, wrecked groans.

"Ohhh, fuck, baby-gonna cum-gonna fill you up—" His hips snap forward, cock buried so deep inside you he's pressing against your cervix, and then he's spilling inside you, moaning like he's falling apart, his cum flooding your pussy, filling you up so full you swear you can feel it.

"Mmm, fuck, baby-so much-" And when he pulls out? His cum is dripping out of you, leaking down your thighs, making a mess of the sheets. But he just grins, fingers gathering the slick, shoving it right back inside you. "Uh-uh, baby. We're not wasting this."

And then he slides back inside, still hard, groaning at the sloppy mess between your thighs, the way your pussy is still fluttering around him.

"One more, baby. Just one more. Let's see if I can really split you apart."

Sloppy comic based on me and my friends conversation on my bday last week 😝🥳 this is pretty much verbatim hahaha

Crying virgin!viktor save me save me virgin!victor has me dying!! I ate that shit up omg it was amazing!! I need more of this desperate man

warnings; experienced!fem!reader, virgin!viktor, explicit sexual content, thigh fucking, premature ejaculation(?), subtle cum marking, clit rubbing, dirty talk (lots of it), subtle corruption kink i think, guiding, not edited just pressed post tbh. (will edit later i swear.)

“fuck, so soft,” viktor moans, hands gripping your thighs and cock throbbing between them — pearly pre-cum leaked from his tip and landed sticky on your panties, the sight hot enough to have your pussy clenching.

“vik, y’can move.” you murmured breathily, eyes lidded and so, so desperate just to feel his hot flesh slide against your thighs. the sound viktor let out could easily be mistaken for a whimper, slightly high pitched and almost pitiful.

“i-i don’t know if i can last very long,” viktor admitted, cock kicking up at random intervals. he was so hard you wondered if it hurt, his tip flared and an angry red — and you couldn’t help but laugh airily.

“that’s why we’re doin’ this, vik, ‘member?” you chided, a light tease. “it’s practice, yeah?”

viktor swallowed audibly and nodded, fingers flexing against your flesh. you glanced down at his cock, and your gut fluttered. viktor was so big, so fucking thick — you couldn’t wait to feel him stretch you out, for him to batter up your insides and fuck you into a mess.

but that would come later; when he was ready for it.

“i-i just fuck them, right?” viktor queried, and you nodded, wholly unprepared for when his hips suddenly began bucking, hot dick sliding between your thighs and getting them absolutely sticky.

“fuck, hah, this is—” viktor started, only to break off into a cacophony of moans as he squeezed your thighs tighter together around him.

your skull melted into the pillow beneath it as viktor humped against you, thick balls slapping into your ass as he lost himself between your soft thighs. his cock grazed against your clothed clit and shot electricity up your spine — fuck, it was so hot.

“oh, my god, vik — wow, shit, you’re doin’ good.” you encouraged, eyes locked on his cockhead disappearing and reappearing between your plush flesh.

“hah, it feels so good, shit,” viktor panted, eyes cinched shut and brows screwed up, mouth popped open in pleasure. “it’s like — fuck, it’s so soft and — ‘m goin’ crazy.”

you didn’t even need viktor to vocalize to know that already — his humps were a bit clumsy in their quickness, but there was no denying he had a certain rhythm that you knew would feel so fucking good inside you. like a feral animal following its instincts, following the urge to fuck fast and breed.

your clit throbbed, and you were reminded of a rather prominent issue.

“mm, vik, c-can you maybe push your cock a li’l lower?” you panted out; the infrequency to the stimulation of your clit was starting to drive you crazy, you needed something more consistent.

viktor followed what you said, and now his hot cock was sliding directly over your clit with every slide between your hot thighs — your back arched slightly and you moaned, loud and lewd, and viktor shivered above you.

“does it f-feel good?” viktor asked, hips stuttering, eyes sliding open to stare at you in wonderment. you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and nodded.

“yeah, yeah — keep goin’ like that and i’ll cum.” you nearly whined, thighs shivering and gut rolling. viktor groaned in the back of his throat and humped a little faster, aiming his hips down slightly to ensure he was hitting the right spot every time.

“fuck, vik! that’s so good!” you mewled, hips rolling up to grind your cunt against his cock. viktor let out a deep groan and his hips stuttered again, cock kicking up viciously.

“you’re wet,” viktor panted. “i-i can feel it through — shit, it’s so hot, i-i, fuck—!”

all you could do was nod along to his observations, gut hot and tight, skin buzzing with fleeting euphoria. every slide against your sopping cunt was driving you straight into nirvana, orgasm building.

“faster vik, fuck. fuck me faster n’ i’ll cum.” you whine, desperation clawing at your flesh — you were so close, right there; if only you had a li’l more pressure, if your clit could be rubbed faster, you’d explode.

viktor whimpered but sped up, slapping his thighs into your ass almost painfully, thrusts a li’l clumsy and desperate — for your orgasm or his own, you weren’t sure.

it sounded wet, rough, fuckin’ hot — slaps, moans, whimpers, slick squelches, curses, pleas; so many erogenous sounds melting together and bouncing off the walls. you were so close it hurt.

“oh my gooooood, vik, please,” you whined, hips rolling up faster, harder, chasing that glorious friction of viktor’s cock —

you didn’t realize your mistake until it was too late. viktor let out a garbled sound, one that sounded like a mix of a whine and a groan, and your eyes flew to your thighs just in time to see viktor explode.

thick, white ropes shot from his cockhead, splattering up between your ribs and soaking your stomach. viktor humped you shallowly as his balls twitched against your ass in time with the shooting of his load, small grunts and groans falling from his lips.

“‘m sorry, ‘m so sorry,” viktor mumbled mindlessly, “i did-didn’t mean to — you just looked so hot — it felt so good, ‘m sorry—”

you surged up and locked your lips with his, halting his babbling. it took viktor a second to register and respond, and when he did, it was a bit clumsy and breathy.

“it’s okay, vik,” you reassured between wet smacks, orgasm receding beneath your skin. “i promise it’s okay. you did so good.”

“but you didn’t—” viktor tried, but you pressed your lips to his more firmly, cutting him off. you reached down to grasp his hand and pull it from your thigh, guiding it between your legs.

viktor sucked in a sharp breath when his fingers met with the wet patch soaked into your panties; you pulled away from him just enough to lock your eyes with his.

“you can make it up to me, vik,” you murmured hotly — if you caught the waves fast enough, you knew you’d be able to pull your orgasm through fast. “jus’ rub my clit, ‘kay? i’ll guide you.”

viktor swallowed and nodded, and you surged in for a kiss again. you licked at the seam of his lips as you pressed his hand against your cunt, rubbing it in small, fast circles.

moans flew from your mouth and into his as viktor tried desperately to match the pace of your kiss, his tongue licking against yours and shoving into your own mouth.

“yeah, vik, jus’ like that. just rub it hard n’ fast, okay?” you whimpered, pleasure returning to your veins with a vengeance. those waves were crashing into you once again, feet dancing on the precipice.

viktor continued to repeat the same motions you’d showed him even as your hand left his; you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and committed yourself to devouring his mouth, licking his teeth, cheeks and tongue as he rubbed you straight to nirvana.

it felt so fucking good, so messy and sloppy and hot, and viktor was moaning into your mouth, soft cock twitching back to life as he pleasured you — everything was just right, and you were about to explode. just needed a bit more.

“faster vik, c’mon, ‘m about to cum — harder, baby, c’mon, doing so good,” you encouraged breathily, prompting viktor to speed up, and oh fuck—!

“yes, yes, keep goin’,” you panted, hips slamming forward into his hand, pulling a deep groan from his throat. you were right there, just a few more circles, yes, yes —

“coming!” you whined as it ripped through you, the waves hitting maximum strength, cunt throbbing and gushing, soaking your panties even further. viktor groaned into your mouth as you rode out your orgasm on his hand, as your slick coated his fingers and palm, as you licked into him gratefully.

“that was amazing,” you murmured between licks, body fuzzy in the aftershock of your orgasm. fuck, viktor was a quick study, you were beginning to realize. this may just be easier than you initially thought.

"Blitzø... I think so very highly of you..."

"I didn't realize you think so low of me..."

the one that got away

ft. fushiguro megumi

⤻ summary ; katy perry's song

⤻ word count ; 2.8k

⤻ genre ; angst, (there are fluff moments)

⤻ cw ; none

⤻ pronouns ; she / her

Your first mistake was getting attached to someone the summer after high school.

"You are so cooked, y/n," Nobara sighed, watching you lay on your stomach as you stared at your phone expectantly.

"Shhhh," you shushed, tapping your screen to see if you had somehow missed his notification. No notification. "Why isn't he texting me back, Nobara?"

"Maybe he's busy."

"Or he's ignoring me!" you wailed, throwing your face into your bed, muffling your defeated groans. "He must've seen the preview of my message and decided that I was crazy for even asking!"

"I can barely understand you."

You raised your head, eyes watering. "He doesn't want to hang out with me!"

Nobara rolled her eyes. "I don't understand why you're so down bad for this dude you've only known for like what, a month?"

"Two," you corrected. "We've known each other for two months."

"Barely known each other. You met him by accident through Itadori at a party. And subsequently, after that, you had only talked to him in person two other times. You've only just started actually talking to him three weeks ago."

You pouted. "Yes, but I like him, Nobara. He's cute and funny and just seems to get me."

"I think he's quiet and rude."

"You don't know him like I do."

Nobara screwed up her face in disgust. "You have issues."

You laughed and sat up. "I really do like him, Nobara. I don't know why, but it's so easy to talk to him. We get along really well. I want to go out with him."

Nobara grabbed your hands in hers. "Okay, but you guys will leave for university in a little over a month. And you guys are going to opposite sides of the world. What happens if it goes really well, too well, and you get too close? Wouldn't it suck to leave? How would you deal with that?"

You pursed your lips. "But wouldn't I regret it if I didn't hang out with him?"

"But you could also end up regretting doing anything with him at all."

"So, is it worse to regret something that did happen or something that didn’t but could have?"

"I don't know, y/n," Nobara said defeatedly. She smiled tightly. "Just think about how this will affect you in the future."

Your phone pinged and you quickly pulled away from Nobara, swiping it up and scanning the screen.

Fushiguro Megumi: Ok

"What did he say?" Nobara asked, noticing your expression.

"Just 'Ok'." You flipped your phone towards her. "I don't even know how to react to that."

You hated to admit it, but his answer bothered you. It was dry and discouraging. It's not like you had expected him to send you a message like, "Yes! I would totally like to hang out with you ASAP" but still.

"At least he didn't say no?" Nobara offered.

Your phone pinged again.

Fushiguro Megumi: Let's get dinner

"He said ‘Let's get dinner'," you read aloud.

"Okay, dinner date, a classic. And he suggested it, I guess that's a good sign."

You nodded in agreement. "This is true. Maybe he's just a bad texter?"

Two days later, you bounced on your heels at the train stop, waiting for Megumi to show up. The two of you had decided to get ramen together at this new build-your-own-bowl place downtown. You were nervous to meet with him, but also excited. You got along really well when texting, how different could in person be?

“Hey, y/n.” You turned and saw Megumi walking towards you.

You smiled. “Hi. We have to go this way.”

The two of you walked towards the restaurant, engaging in simple small talk. He asked what you had done that day and you asked him how his train ride was. You also talked about Itadori, reminiscing about how ridiculously funny the boy was at the end-of-year party in May where the two of you had met.

“What kind of noodles did you get?” you asked, leaning over the table to see into Megumi’s bowl.

“Udon,” he said. “What about you?”

You tilted your bowl. “These skinny ramen ones. But udon sounds good too, Fushiguro.”

“You can call me Megumi,” he said, dropping his gaze to his bowl. He stirred his noodles.

You smiled. “Okay then, Megumi.” You were happy that he thought the two of you were close like that, but at the same time, your stomach turned at the thought. Nobara was right. Maybe you were going to get too close.

The conversation came easy, and you were smiling and laughing more than you had ever had with any other guy you’d ever hung out with. It was weird, but also pleasantly surprising.

“I like talking to you, Megumi,” you blurted, pushing aside your finished bowl. You dropped your gaze to the table, realizing what you had just said.

“I like talking to you too, y/n.” You looked up and Megumi smiled softly at you. Your face flushed a pink color.

You cleared your throat. “Maybe we should hang out again?”

“I’d like that.”

Over the next three weeks, you hung out with Megumi a total of five times more. You wished it could have been more, but it seemed that each time you wanted to hang out someone was busy or someone had an appointment. The two of you got brunch where you found out that Megumi was a blueberry pancake person which seemed all too perfect in your head. You also once went shopping, where you bought a pretty new dress after getting lunch together. At one of your last hangouts, you invited him over to bake cookies and watch a movie where you found out that Megumi was a pretty decent baker. 

“You didn’t tell me you were a baker, Megumi,” you laughed, watching as he rolled the cookie dough into little balls.

He shrugged. “I guess there’s a lot of things about me you don’t know.”

“Trying to be mysterious or what?” you teased.

He laughed. “Of course.”

You stared at him, thinking that he was the most beautiful person you had ever seen when laughing and smiling. It almost made you forget about how he would be leaving soon.

Meeting Fushiguro Megumi had not been on your bucket list for summer. His presence in your life was a wrench in your plans and you couldn't even begin to explain to your friends why he mattered so much to you. After all, you two had barely had a month together and nothing lasting that short was ever truly that serious.

Fushiguro Megumi: What are u doing today?

Fushiguro Megumi: I wanna see u

You stared at the messages on your phone, thinking of how to respond. Of course, you wanted to see him too, but he would leave the next day. You were afraid that if you saw him, you'd break down and he'd realize how embarrassingly much you liked him.

Fushiguro Megumi: What's wrong?

What was wrong was that you didn't want to humiliate yourself in front of the guy you had foolishly developed real, deep feelings for. You typed back your response: Nothing. Just busy.

Fushiguro Megumi: Too busy to hang out for a few hours?

Yes. But really, no. You called Nobara, hoping that she would be able to give you advice.

“I don’t know what I should text back to him,” you explained. “I mean, I want to see him. But is it worth it?”

“Do you remember when I told you this wasn’t a good idea?”

You frowned. “That’s not exactly what you said.”

“But you know it’s what I meant.”

“Come on, Nobara. Help me?”

Nobara paused. You heard her sigh through the receiver. “Do you think it’s better to regret something that did happen or something that didn’t but could have?”

“I get it, Nobara, you’re throwing my words back at me.”

“Yes, but no. I’m serious. It’s a good question to think about. Honestly, you’re already in way too deep, so why not just see him? At this point, you’ve got nothing more to lose.”

You nodded. “Yeah, okay, I’ll text him back then. Thanks, Nobara.”

“Yeah. And I’ll be here when you crash out when he leaves!”

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes, but you also knew that she was right. You probably would end up crashing out.

You: No

You met Megumi in the park by your house. The sun was getting low and you guessed that in a few hours or so, you’d be able to watch the sunset with him. It was an almost too perfect place for a goodbye.

“Hi,” you said, sitting beside him on the grass.

He looked up and smiled, raising a box of strawberries. “I brought a snack.”

“I love strawberries!”

“I know.”

The two of you sat together on the grass, bathed in the dimming glow of the sun for hours. You talked about everything and nothing. He asked about your life and your friends, listening intently whenever you delved into a tangent. You talked to him about your favorite movies, and the two of you easily found common ground. But you didn’t talk about the future, or what was going to happen the next day. You couldn’t even bear to ask him if he was excited to leave. You were afraid. When the sky turned purple-pink and the edges of the sun began to dip below the tree line, you felt a stab of anxiety, knowing that your time with him was about to end.

Do you tell him how you feel? No. But, yes? Maybe you should. Your chest seized at the thought. But what if you were wrong about your entire relationship? What if you were really just friends? You would be okay with that, right? But also, he was leaving anyway. Maybe you should get it off your chest.

You thought about what Nobara would say, how she’d throw your words back at you again: is it worse to regret something that did happen or something that didn't but could have?

Before you could say anything, Megumi said, "I wish we had talked more before.”

You nodded but didn't say anything, scared that if you did you'd start crying.

Megumi stared at the ground. "I wish I had gone up to you when I first saw you in October."

"Wait, what?" You turned to him. The two of you had met in May. "October?"

He shrugged. "It was Halloween and Itadori had dragged me along to someone's Halloween party. He was dressed as Phineas and I was Ferb from some TV show he watched as a kid. I didn't want to be there at all. I didn't know anyone and parties are overrated; too many people with too little space. Plus, I wasn't enjoying the outfit he had put me in. When Itadori started talking to people I didn't know, I decided to leave to find us some drinks. When I found him again I saw him talking to a princess."

He looked up to meet your eyes. For Halloween that year you had been a princess while Nobara had been a dragon. It had been Nobara's idea and she had shimmied you into a too-small pink princess dress that she had gotten from the clearance kids section at the costume store. She thought it was hilarious.

Your breath hitched and Megumi dropped his gaze back to the floor. "For a second, I thought you were a real princess. You were certainly beautiful enough to be one. When I got to Itadori again, I remember that I had asked him to introduce me to you but by the time the opportunity had presented itself Itadori had forgotten and was in a deep conversation with that friend of yours, the one who was the dragon. I didn't want to interrupt, it seemed pointless. I told myself that there would be other opportunities. Besides, Itadori was pretty drunk at that point and I was the designated sober to take him home, so I just concerned myself with taking care of him. When we were leaving and Itadori had sobered up, he asked me why I didn't go up to you myself. Honestly, I don't know why I didn't. I guess I was nervous. But I regret not going up to you. Because as it turns out, I didn’t see you again until that party in May."

You didn't respond for a long moment, unsure of what to say or how to react. You were angry at him. You were angry at Itadori. You were angry at yourself. You were simply angry. You whispered, "Why would you tell me that?"

"I don't know."

Part of you wished that he hadn’t told you that. If he hadn’t, then your brain wouldn’t be filled with a million “what ifs”. What if he had gone up to you in October? If he had, then maybe, you could’ve had more time together. Maybe you would’ve actually been a couple for a little while. Or not. You didn’t even really know how much he liked you now. Maybe it wasn’t enough. Maybe he was saying all this because he was just really going to miss your friendship. You realized how complicated your relationship with him was. You flirted and went out and there was obvious attraction. But neither of you had ever really said anything to each other that alluded to something deeper. You knew that you felt it, but what about him? Maybe you guys said nothing because of the fear of how little time you knew you had left. So who really knew how many things the two of you were keeping from each other?

“You’ll have a great time in college,” you said, trying to ease the awkward silence.

He nodded. “You too.”

“Did you know that statistically most people meet the person they're going to marry in college? So who knows who you'll meet," you blurted. You pinched yourself, why did you say that?

He stared at you, his face unmoving. You couldn't quite make out what exactly his expression meant. "I guess so."

You smiled tightly and turned away from him, suddenly self-conscious.

Megumi was silent for a while. "In another life, it would've been different between us. This wouldn’t be the end of us; we would work out."

You couldn't hold the tears back any longer. Teardrops spilled out from your eyes, splattering onto your legs in quick succession of one another. You hiccuped and buried your face in your hands, unable to stop the tears from flowing. You felt an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. Megumi didn't say a word as he pressed you to his chest, holding you. You could hear his heartbeat: fast but steady. The two of you sat there against each other for what felt like an eternity but couldn't have been more than ten minutes. Your breathing steadied and the tears stopped. But still, neither of you moved. You knew the moment would end if you did, and you weren't ready for that yet.

When the moment did end, both of you continued to not say a word. It wasn’t awkward, but you were afraid to speak and you guessed that he probably felt the same way. What do you say after everything that just happened? The sun had long since disappeared and the street lamps turned on, casting shadows across the park and engulfing the two of you in hazy dim lighting. The two of you stood and gathered your things in silence. Once done, you hugged one another once more. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close. He hugged your waist so tight you thought you might pop from the pressure, but at the same time, you didn’t mind.

You stood together for another minute before reluctantly beginning to pull away. You pressed a hasty kiss to his cheek and whispered, “Goodbye, Megumi.” You pulled back, averting eye contact before turning to leave, not even waiting to hear what he might’ve said. It hurt too much to think about. Part of you hoped that he would call after you; stop you from leaving. But no such thing happened. You thought of turning back to look at him but you didn’t do either.

Part of you believed what he had said: that in another life you two would’ve worked out. In another life, maybe you would’ve even been his girl. But there was only this life. And in this life, he was the one that got away. You walked away only hoping that at some point, some part of him had liked you at least half as much as you liked him.

☆ Gojo is always so cocky before you peg him. Confident, taking charge as if he's not about to be fucked from behind like a whore. He'll dirty talk you, try to fluster you with his honeyed words as you're pulling the strap on.

"Gonna fuck me so good, baby?" He purrs, wrapping his fingers around the pretty blue strap: perhaps to gauge the size. He jerks it a little, mirrors the way he'd stroke himself to the thought of being fucked senseless by you. "Hopefully you can keep up with me."

It's all talk, a veil of confidence only barely masking his desperation beneath, which burns hot and angry and threatens to ignite into something all-consuming if it isn't soon put out. You think of wrecking his ego, making him get down on his knees and suck the plastic for show. He'd look so pretty, looking up at you through his lashes as he served the strap with his mouth and tongue.

Oh but he's prepped and ready, and you're itching to erode at his cocky smile. You have him lay on his back, so you can watch as his lips curl downwards when you slide a finger into him, rather than the strap he's been promised.

"Fuck, I don't need it," he whines, tries to reach down and pull your wrist up and away from him but you swat him away with a tsk.

"You're so impatient."

"Just fuck me already."

Sweet Satoru regrets his words when you line your pretty blue strap up with his ass and push in only an inch of two. The sharp hiss of him steeling himself with a breath is music to your ears, and though he tries desperately to keep the cocky act up, you can see it slipping.

You give him another inch, and he bites back a moan. "That's... all you got?"

"No," you click your teeth. "But, it's all you'll get if you don't start begging, baby."

He gives you a look, tries his best to look annoyed, but his cock is so hard it hurts and the corners of his lips are curling upwards in a grin regardless. His pleads start out dramatic, joking.

"Please fuck me, babe," he drawls, but as you inch further inside of him at his request, he gasps. Very quickly, any cockiness in his tone is replaced by raw need. "Fuck, more—please, really, I need it."

His eyes are wide at the stretch, the all-encompassing fullness he's feeling, and the grief he feels when you pull almost all the way out of him.

"Wait don't pull out I'll beg I'll—"

His pleads get stuck in his throat when you push forward and bury your strap completely in his ass. Satoru chokes out the prettiest moan, meets your eyes for half a second as you pull back, and then falls into complete ecstasy as you snap your hips back into his again.

From there, he's gone. Malting into the mattress as you fuck him at the pace he responds best to—a torturous middle ground between painfully slow and so fast it's over too soon. Satoru whines, seemingly already overstimulated by your movements, but you're far from done with him.

Satoru Gojo is the strongest. He's untouchable, really, and here you are ten inches deep inside of him and watching as hot tears spring into his beautiful blue eyes. He's sweating, exerting himself entirely to taking all that you can give him; and you're sure he'd take more if you had it for him—he's at the base of your strap and whining like a whore on it.

"Close," his voice is quiet and desperate and you love the way it melts into the air around you. You fuck him harder, faster, a bruising pace that might be more for you than him, but he takes it with shaky breaths and a heaving chest because he's addicted to the shape of your plastic cock inside of his ass.

You fuck him through his orgasm, watch as his cock—which is reddening with angry need—spurts ropes of cum all over his stomach, pearlescent and almost unending. You smile at the sight, stalling your hips to let him catch his breath after cumming so hard without his cock even being touched.

He's a mess, sensitive and breathless as you trace your fingertips through the mess of cum glossing his tummy. Satoru watches with parted lips as you do so, half-expecting you to bring your fingers to his lips for him to clean up the mess he made. But you don't. Instead, you press down hard on his tummy and listen to the lewd noise that rips from his throat when you feel just how deep you are inside of him.

"Here, baby," you coo, grabbing at the wrist Satoru shoots down to try and pull your hand from his stomach with. You press his palm down onto his cum-covered stomach and have him feel for himself the bulge that you've created with the tip of your strap inside of him.

A moment passes, something flickers in your gaze that turns Satoru's mouth dry. "Don't move your hand, Toru, understand me? Keep pressing down."

Satoru parts his lips to protest, but you're pulling out and plunging back into his ass with a mean thrust of your hips before he can say a word. The nastiest moan slips from his lips, half ecstatic, half overstimulated.

"Fucking you so deep you can feel it from the outside, huh baby? Taking my cock so well, letting me use you like you're the toy."

Your words are enough to encourage Satoru into a second round; though this time you're meaner than before. You pull his legs up a little, manage a position that allows you to get impossibly deeper inside of him, and hen thrust your hips forward to test the water.

He's drooling. His lips are wet with spit and cheeks stained with new-flowing tears. He loves it, though, you can feel the clench of his ass in the way it becomes just that little bit harder to thrust into him. With each mean snap of your hips though, you watch as Satoru presses down harder on his belly to feel you bullying your plastic strap into his ass.

You find a nice pace and match it with your fingers wrapped around his cock. Stroking him only makes your lover needier, bucking his hips up instinctually just to gasp at how the movement fucks himself onto your strap too. By the time his second orgasm is approaching, you can't tell who's doing more of the work: he's frenzied and cumdrunk and can't see straight between the blinding pleasure and tears in his eyes.

"Good boy," you praise as he cums again, his whole body racked with tremors and his eyes quite literally rolling back as he releases all over the hand that presses down to feel you. You give him a minute, let his catch his lost breath and wipe his tears from his eyes with the hand that isn't covered in his own cum.

Though, once you're confident he's at ease enough for you to slowly pull out and start giving him aftercare, his legs lock around your waist and keep you buried deep.

You've never seen such a look on his face before—ravenous.

"Again."

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༻behind the screen༺

♡ pairing. gojo x fem! reader (au you're coworkers)

♡ summary. when a late-night swipe on an anonymous dating app leads to a sultry phone call, you think it’s the perfect way to escape your work stress—especially your infuriatingly smug coworker Gojo Satoru. but when the man on the other end starts sounding eerily familiar, secrets slip out.

♡ contents. 18+ MDNI, smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, praise kink, dirty talk, satoru is pining over you.

♡ wc. 3k

♡ a/n this was a request! it became longer than i anticipated hehe. but i had fun writing it nonetheless 💕

Gojo Satoru was used to being in control. Whether it was at work, in social settings, or just walking into a room, he was the guy who turned heads, the one who made people laugh, the one everyone gravitated toward.

Confidence was his currency, and he spent it lavishly. But around you? His brain seemed to malfunction entirely.

It was infuriating, really. He could charm anyone with a single smile, yet you—you—barely spared him a glance. And when you did, it was usually accompanied by a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

But you didn’t hate Gojo Satoru—hate was too strong a word for someone as maddeningly smug as him.

What you felt for him was more akin to the annoyance of stepping in gum on a hot summer day or spilling coffee on your favorite blouse. He was a constant presence in your life, always hovering with his stupidly perfect grin and those ridiculous quips that made your eye twitch.

And yet, to him, you were an enigma. You didn’t fall for his charm, his playful teasing, or his self-proclaimed ‘devastatingly good looks,’ and that made you a puzzle he was desperate to solve.

At first, he chalked it up to frustration. No one had ever resisted him the way you did, and it had to be a fluke. Then, the realization hit him like a freight train: he didn’t just want your attention—he wanted you.

It was a big, messy crush, and he had no idea what to do about it. Gojo Satoru didn’t pine, for god’s sake. So, he acted indifferent.

Unfortunately, his strategy was… suboptimal.

Relentless teasing. Sarcastic remarks. Even the occasional ‘accidental’ brush of his hand against yours. None of it worked. Instead of pulling you closer, it only seemed to cement your belief that he was a certified pain in the ass.

Case in point: last Friday in the break room.

“Still no boyfriend, huh?” he’d asked with a smirk, leaning casually against the door frame as if he hadn’t been plotting that line all day. “Guess guys just don’t appreciate all that… sarcasm. Or is it the constant glaring?”

The flash of irritation in your eyes was immediate and searing. He regretted it the moment the words left his mouth, but instead of apologizing, he doubled down with a cocky grin. That was his defense mechanism—smugness as a shield.

You didn’t even bother to dignify him with a response. You stormed off, brushing his shoulder while your heels clicked against the floor as he stood there, internally kicking himself.

Now, as you lay in bed on a random Tuesday night, those words played on repeat in your head. It wasn’t because they hurt—of course not. But they lingered, burrowing into your thoughts like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

Was that cocky ass, right? No… you could get a boyfriend… if you wanted to.

The thought made you scowl, your finger aimlessly scrolling through your phone as the glow of the screen illuminated your face.

“God, who cares what he thinks…” you groan, tossing your phone aside. But the moment you did, it buzzed, and the glow of an ad caught your attention.

A dating app. Anonymous. Discreet. Perfect for someone who wanted validation… without the strings.

“Why not?” you mutter, tapping the download button.

You didn’t expect much. Maybe a few shallow conversations, something to pass the time and make you feel less… undesirable.

Fuck it.

༻♡༺

Gojo Satoru slouched on his couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest while his other hand flicked mindlessly through his phone.

The TV was on, some senseless drama he couldn’t care less about playing in the background. It was just noise, really—something to drown out the thoughts he didn’t want to entertain. Thoughts of you.

“You’re sulking,” Suguru’s voice cut through the haze, casual and smug as always. Satoru barely looked up as his best friend wandered in from the kitchen, a beer in hand.

“I don’t sulk,” his thumb swipes with more force than necessary, and the pout tugging at his lips, said otherwise.

Suguru snorted, plopping down beside him and cracking his beer open.

“Sure,” he said, leisurely taking a sip. “So, what’s your deal this time? Another tragic failure to get her attention?”

Satoru’s eyes flick up to glare at his friend, but the effect was less menacing and more petulant. He looks back at his phone, refusing to dignify that with a response. Still, his pout said everything Suguru needed to know.

“It wasn’t a failed attempt…” he grumbles after a moment. “She reacts… just… the wrong way…”

Suguru’s brow arches is amusement as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Lemme guess… she glared at you. Again.”

Satoru was silent, staring at his phone like it might provide him with a more dignified answer, but eventually, the admission slipped out, quiet and begrudging.

“Her glare is cute…”

Suguru doesn’t miss the soft pink dusting Satoru’s cheeks, and his eyes roll so hard it’s a miracle they don’t fall out of his head. He sets his beer down with a sigh, leaning back to rest an arm along the back of the couch.

“You’ve got it bad, man. Just confess already.”

“I can’t,” Satoru’s sigh is so dramatic it could’ve won him an award. He drops his phone onto his chest, staring up at the ceiling like it holds the secrets of the universe. “She totally hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Suguru counters. “She just thinks you’re an idiot, which—let’s be real—you kinda are.”

“Wow. Thanks,” Satoru said flatly. “Your support is truly heartwarming.”

Suguru shrugs, unbothered as always. He grabs his beer and takes another sip, eyeing Satoru like he’s both a lost cause and an endless source of entertainment.

“Y’know what your problem is?”

“Oh, please. Enlighten me,” Satoru stretches his legs out on the coffee table.

Suguru sets his can back down with a decisive clink.

“You overthink things with this girl. Maybe you need a distraction. You oughta download one of those dating apps everyone’s obsessed with. Blow off some steam.”

“A dating app?” Satoru’s nose scrunches in disgust, like Suguru had suggested he take up competitive bird watching or something.

Suguru, unperturbed, reaches over and snatches the phone off Satoru’s chest with zero hesitation. “Yep,” his fingers fly over the screen. “You’re clearly incapable of doing this on your own, so I’m doing it for you.”

“Wait, what—”

“There.” Suguru shoves the phone back into Satoru’s hands, grinning like a man who’d just solved world hunger. “All set.”

༻♡༺

That was how Satoru found himself lying in bed, staring at the app now loaded onto his phone—the bright interface practically mocking him.

A dating app? Seriously?

He was Gojo fucking Satoru. He didn’t need help in that department—if anything, people practically threw themselves at him.

And yet, here he was, thumb hovering over the ‘Get Started’ button like it was some kind of nuclear launch code.

“This is so dumb…” he mutters to himself, running a hand through his snow-white hair. But the alternative—sitting here alone and thinking about you—was worse. Much worse.

With a resigned sigh, he taps the button. The setup was painless enough, and he will admit that the app’s anonymity piqued his interest. No names, no faces, no preconceived notions—just bios and conversation. A refreshing change from his usual routine.

But once he started swiping, reality set in.

The profiles were… bland. Painfully so. If he had to read one more line about someone who ‘loves hiking and tacos,’ he was going to throw his phone across the room. Plus, the conversations he’d had were dull at best and unbearable at worst. Small talk wasn’t his thing, and most people just couldn’t seem to keep up with his wit.

Satoru was about five minutes away from deleting the app when your profile popped up. It was short, clever, and witty—his kind of humor. Intrigued, he swiped right and shot you a message.

Hours slipped away like water through his fingers. The conversation flowed so easily it was almost surreal. You didn’t tiptoe around him or try to impress him—you met his sarcasm with your own, and every jab you threw only made him want to know more.

The two of you talked about everything—movies, terrible music recommendations, the absurdity of office politics. The way you called out corporate nonsense had him laughing so hard he had to put the phone down to catch his breath. He couldn’t remember the last time someone made him laugh like that.

God—you were funny, sharp, and quick on your feet in a way that reminded him of—

Nah…

It wasn’t you. It couldn’t be. The universe wasn’t that cruel—or that kind.

He groans, tossing his phone onto the bed and rubbing a hand over his face. His mind was betraying him again, spiraling back to you like it always does.

‘You need a distraction. Blow off some steam.’

Maybe Suguru was right. Maybe he needed a distraction. Something—anything—to get you out of his head.

As his phone buzzes with a new message, his gaze drifts back to the screen.

still there, or did I scare you off?

A slow grin spreads across his face. Whatever. Whoever you were, you had his attention. For tonight, that was enough.

Still here. Hey, can I be honest for a sec?

mmm… depends. how honest?

He smirked, typing quickly.

Well, tbh I’ve been having a tough time. Got it bad for this coworker. Total knockout, but I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m an idiot.

He hits send before he can talk himself out of it, watching the little ‘delivered’ icon appear. Your reply comes after a brief pause.

yikes… sounds complicated.

He chuckles, already typing again.

You have no idea... anyway, I figured I could use a distraction. And if I’m gonna distract myself, I’d rather do it with someone who can actually keep my interest.

There was a beat of hesitation, and then he boldly added:

Wanna have phone sex?

This time, the pause stretched longer. Long enough for him to wonder if he’d blown it. But then, his phone buzzes again.

fuck it... why not?

Grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, he hit the call button through the app. The line rang once, twice, before clicking.

“Hi…” your voice greeted him softly.

“Hey princess,” he drawled. “Thought I might’ve scared you off.”

“Oh… no,” you said, a soft laugh escaping you. “But I will admit, you’re straight to the point, aren’t you?”

“Always.” He leans back further, his free hand trailing lazily over his stomach. “Why waste time, right? Life’s too short for tiptoeing around.”

Ironic, considering how he seemed to do nothing but tiptoe around you—his coworker—at work. You—who always had him second-guessing himself in ways no one else ever could.

However, this wasn’t about you. This was a stranger—right? A voice on the other end of the line. That was all.

But as you laugh through the phone, he closes his eyes, letting the sound settle over him. It was nice… and familiar. Too familiar.

No.

He was imagining things. Again. His brain was playing tricks on him, twisting your voice into something it wasn’t. There was no way it was you.

“So,” he said, steering the conversation back on track. “You’ve done this before?”

“Not really,” you admit, voice dipping slightly. “Actually… no. Honestly, I haven’t. This is my first time.”

His grin widens—the cocky edge returning to his tone.

“First time, huh? Well, you’re in luck. I’m an excellent teacher.”

You let out another soft laugh, nervous but sweet, and it sends a jolt of heat straight through him. What the hell is wrong with him tonight? Your voice—soft, familiar—it feels like a melody he’s heard before.

“Is that so?” you ask, breaking his train of thought.

“Hmm? Oh… absolutely,” he said, shaking his head with a smirk. His fingers drummed against his thigh as he forced himself to focus. “Just relax, princess. Let me guide you.”

“…okay,” you whisper.

He exhales slowly, letting the tension drain from his shoulders as he shifts lower on the bed.

“Now… are you laying in your bed for me?”

“mhmm…” you hum softly.

“Mm, good girl,” he murmurs. “Alright, tell me—what are you wearing?”

“Just… an oversized shirt,” the hesitation in your voice makes him grin. “Nothing else.”

“Yeah?” his hand trails down to the waistband of his sweatpants as he closes his eyes. “That’s perfect. Makes it easy to imagine my hands slipping underneath, right up to that pretty pussy of yours...”

Your sharp inhale crackles through the receiver, and the sound sends a thrill straight to his cock.

“Do something for me,” he begins palming his growing bulge. “Run your hands down your thighs… nice and slow. Tease yourself the way I would.”

There was a beat of silence, and he held his breath, waiting. Then, he heard it—a faint shift in your breathing, followed by a soft, shaky exhale. It was subtle, but it was enough to tell him you were doing exactly as he asked.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his own hand slipping beneath his waistband to wrap around his cock. It twitched eagerly in his palm, already hard and aching as he imagines you following his instructions.

“…you touching yourself, sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah.”

The word trembles on your lips like a secret only he’s allowed to hear, and his grip tightens on his cock as he begins to stroke himself slowly—matching the rhythm he imagines your hand moving in.

“Good girl,” he purrs, the sheets rustling beneath him as his hand glides across his length. “Now slide your fingers inside that tight little cunt… nice and slow.”

Your soft moan spills through the line, and his hips buck involuntarily at the sound—his hand moving faster.

“Fuck… love hearing those pretty little sounds” he groans as his thumb swipes over his tip, slick with pre-cum. “How many fingers are you using?”

“Two,” you gasp as the word breaks into a moan.

“Add another,” he commands, almost a growl.

You hesitate for just a moment, but then your breathy whimper crackles through the line, and he hisses through clenched teeth, his dick twitching eagerly at the sound. But somehow, without meaning to, his imagination betrays him.

He pictures you—his coworker. Fuck, why couldn’t he stop thinking about you?

You—head tipped back; lips parted as your fingers work you open—his cock throbbed eagerly at the mental image.

Fuck… this was supposed to be a distraction, not fuel for his already out-of-control infatuation. He groaned, annoyed at himself but powerless to stop, and his strokes grew faster, more desperate as he surrendered to the fantasy.

“Haa… that’s my girl,” he praises, eyes fluttering shut as his hips buck into his hand desperately. “Stretch yourself for me. Make yourself nice and ready for my cock… nngh… wanna fucking fill you up, princess. Make you take every inch.”

Your soft, choked moan crackles through the phone, and it unravels him further. His strokes grow faster, more erratic—his free hand gripping the sheets as he chases his release.

“Bet you’d look so pretty,” his hand becomes a frantic blur as he loses himself to his fantasy. “All spread out and dripping for me. Taking my cock like a good girl… haaa… gonna fucking stuff you full as you cum all over m’ dick.”

“Fuck… m’ cumming,” you gasp, and as your broken cry crackles through the receiver, it sends him careening over the edge.

“Fuck… yes, good fucking girl… haaa—m’ cumming too.”

He pumps his cock, hips jerking as thick, hot streams of cum spill over his hand and onto the sheets below. His breath hitches in his throat, and before he can stop himself, your name rips from his lips, raw and guttural, a desperate cry he couldn’t contain.

Through the phone, your own gasping breaths mingle with his—the faint sound of your release trembling through the line. Then, for a brief moment, the world was quiet, save for the shared rhythm of your breathing as the two of you come down from the high.

Until, reality set in.

Fuck.

He blinked up at the ceiling, his free hand raking through his hair as his brain scrambled to process what just happened.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He felt like a goddamn asshole. He’d just moaned someone else’s name—your name—while he was supposed to be with someone else.

What the hell was wrong with him?

But then, you laughed—a soft, breathless sound that broke through his spiraling thoughts.

“That was… fun,” you said warmly, slightly teasing. “But, um… how do you know my name?”

His stomach dropped.

“I… what?” his voice cracked slightly as panic clawed its way up his throat.

“You said my name,” you reply, a curious lilt to your tone now. “I don’t remember telling you my name. And, you know, the app is supposed to be anonymous…”

It hit him all at once.

The voice that had been haunting him, the one that felt so painfully familiar, the one he’d convinced himself couldn’t possibly be yours—it was yours.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his heart pounding in his chest as realization washed over him.

“Wait…” your tone shifts from amused to sharp. “You sound familiar. Like… Gojo?”

His stomach flips, dread pooling in his chest like ice water.

“Uh…” He froze, his mind scrambling for something, anything, that could salvage this disaster. “…hi, princess?” His tone was a weak attempt at his usual cocky charm—it fell flat. “Didn’t expect to find you on this app…”

There was a beat of silence, and then, like the idiot he was, his mouth moved faster than his brain.

“Sooo… still no boyfriend then, huh?”