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i only write f!reader. these are all of my works so far. this masterlist is ongoing and will be updated.
SATORU GOJO.
virgin!satoru — poor, desperate baby.
pervy!gojo — he likes watching videos.
SUGURU GETO.
bestfriend!suguru — finally got a taste.
sleepy!suguru — early morning fun.
KENTO NANAMI.
rough!nanami — not-so-gentlemanly.
SUKUNA RYOMEN.
tutor!sukuna — purely educational.
TOJI FUSHIGURO.
husband!toji — pretty wife needs his help.
thinking about... d1 athlete!toji who can't believe he has such a beautiful and intelligent girlfriend.
toji worships the ground you walk on. you're so fucking perfect, from the way you support his career to the way you stay up late waiting for him to return from away games. you've met him at the airport many times, all bright eyed and holding flowers for him. people have posted about the two of you so many times, saying just how well you treat each other. you’re the epitome of couple goals even if you do spend a decent amount of time explaining to your boyfriend that you’re here for him. always.
toji refuses to let you go. he's heard the horror stories of wag's being impatient with their partners or cheating on them because of feelings of neglect. you're the most patient person he's ever met, and he's the most impatient person you've ever met. you're patient because you grew up that way, toji's impatient because he's never had enough time. so, you allow him to be. toji knows how incredibly lucky he is because not only are you beautiful, patient, and possibly the best thing to happen to him, but you're damn near a genius. you made the president's list last year and are aiming to continue your streak this year.
toji's reminded how lucky he is when he makes eye contact with you after scoring. when he's running to the sideline to press a kiss to your lips, green eyes alight with mischief and adrenaline from running down the field. he's also reminded when he comes back from a rough game with grit teeth and unshed tears of anger in his eyes. toji's never believed in showing his emotions so openly, but when you press a kiss to his cheek and relay every single thing he did right to to him it's hard not to cry.
you're perfect. and he doesn't mean this because you're his girlfriend, his first real one since he was an asshole in high school.
if it makes toji feel better, you think he’s also perfect. you struggled with relationships in high school because you felt like you weren’t seen beyond your intelligence. everyone wanted to be seen with you for the purpose of having a popular girlfriend, never for your personality or your heart. you were sweet in high school, don’t get me wrong. but you were a party favor to them, a trophy of sorts. toji's the first to make you feel seen and valued.
it was so surprising when you met toji in your intro to psych lecture. he sat beside you, all big and muscly barely fitting in the desk. he didn’t speak much at first, but as the assignments grew harder he needed help to pass and continue playing. so, he made friends with you. toji wouldn’t lie, he originally started talking to you because he thought you were hot. he knew you wouldn’t fuck him immediately and he wasn’t in the mood to play the long game. so for the first time in his life he tried to make an actual friend. it was a random decision to him, but this ended up meaning so much more to you.
you had no idea who toji was. as far as you knew, he was a random gym rat that was majoring in something like kinesiology (ouch) to get by and become a coach. while his major was kinesiology, toji and everyone around him knew he was going to the league after graduation. this wouldn’t matter in the long run. he’s here to play ball, but if he learns then he learns. and somehow, after knowing you for a year, toji finds himself wanting to learn.
you've made him smarter while he shows you that you're loved. your heart feels so full when you leave class to see toji lingering outside of the door. your heart warms when he abandons his teammates to catch up to you with a little smile on his lips. he always presses a kiss to your temple, asking how your lecture went or how your day was. toji makes time for you no matter what he has going on, and that's why you feel so valued by him. he's so busy as a football player. he has to deal with the media, practice, games, and even maintaining the image for your school. but still, at the end of the day, he returns to your apartment to keep you company while you study.
at the end of the day, he'll always be relived knowing he's coming home to you. he'll watch you with all of your books sprawled on the floor, glasses on and hair barely pulled back. he'll always come home because you are home. you've changed his life in just a year, and he wouldn't have it any other way. to everyone on campus toji's some sort of myth. the demon on their football team that racks up insane stats.
but to you, he's just your lover.
PARTITION! g. satoru
ৎ୭ sum. your sugar daddy, satoru’s worst fear happened. he fears you’re too much of a spoiled rotten brat. screw riding in his expensive private limousine—you wanted to ride something else instead. (him, duh)
wc. 7.3k
warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy gojo! au, age gap (early twenties + thirties), car sęx, bratty reader, unprotected, getting eaten out the window, tít job, reverse cowgirl, doggy, cunnīlingus, nanami cameo, slight alcohol consumption, size kink, cęrvix kissing, possessive themes (wearing waist beads w his initials), implied multiple rounds, he’s sooo whipped, bręeding.
“meet my baby here, sweets. charlotte.”
“satoru, what.”
as satoru had an arm slinked around your waist, brushing a thumb across the jewels that stuck against of of the many designer blouses he’s bought you within the past week, he hums. the two of you were staring straight at a limousine. it was icy blue like his eyes with a plethora of dark-tinted windows. to even top it off, it had ‘G.S limousine service, inc.’ carved into the side of one of the doors in bright, blue cursive.
you huffed, smearing your glossed lips together. “you named your limousine?”
“heh, well she’s yours now,” he hums, guiding you toward the slid open doors. “c’mon, there’s a club i wanna take you to. if we leave now, we can beat the press.” and satoru takes a peek at his gleaming, pricey watch. he helps lifts the back of your long skirt from touching the ground before you step in. immediately, you’re hit with flashing lights inside the luxurious car and its plush red seats.
“where to, sir.” a blond chauffeur adjusts his mirror with a sigh, taking a short glance at you.
satoru throws an arm around you, tugging lightly on his tie that’s tucked neatly in his suit. “ah, kento, meet my girl. and please—drive us to my private lounge,” satoru kisses your cheek as you sit, whispering in an impish, low tone. “buckle up, sweetheart. ‘s gonna be a bumpy ride.”
࣪ ִֶָ☾. an ugly, green eyed monster resides in the pits of your guts, and to his utmost confusion— don’t you know he has eyes for you only?
cw. 18+. lowkey sub gojo. a littleee foot action. reverse cowgírl. cunningulūs. sorta ruined orgașm. fem!reader. 3k wc.
you’re upset.
you’re upset with him.
what he’d thought had been the perfect date at the perfect restaurant with the most perfect partner, had positively gone to shit, and he’s not sure who’s to blame. himself or that unnecessarily audacious waitress— who might get blacklisted as soon as he gets home for having the nerve to foul his girlfriend’s mood.
(but not you. you’re never to blame. you can literally do no wrong in his eyes.)
he tries to ease the tension in his sleek car by talking your ear off about god knows what, reminds you how beautiful you look in your suede dress, rubs the pad of his thumb at the smooth skin of your thigh— but to no avail, you remain as quiet as you’d been back in that crappy establishment.
after all, there’s only so many “wow’s”, “insane’s,” and “that’s crazy’s” you can muster. . . right?
wrong.
this is so insanely good what the hell
husband!toji who teaches you how to finger yourself— his sweet little wife who depends on his fingers and his cock to stretch that slutty cunt out.
his eyes were glued to your body, legs haphazardly spread as he leaned back against the chair that was situated across your shared bed.
“mhm, jus’ like that,” he mutters gruffly, shifting slightly in his seat and adjusting the painfully obvious tent in his pants. “don’t act shy now, sweets. run ‘em up and down your pussy and get it all wet.”
biting your lip, you obliged, hesitantly running your hand up and down your cunt. the moment the pads of your fingers pressed down onto your swollen bundle of nerves, a whine ripped from your throat as liquids gushed out from your entrance.
it was almost otherworldly; how wet you got from mere masturbation.
husband!toji whose cock is about to rip his pants open at the sight of you rutting against your hand like a needy whore.
it didn’t take long before he completely forgot that he was supposed to be teaching you — tugging his pants down and pushing his throbbing, hard cock inside of your pussy.
the corner of his lips twitch upwards as his gaze casts downwards. he’s met with the sight of a completely drenched pussy and sheets. he’s right, he thinks, only he can get you this wet.
lesson learned: don’t let husband!toji teach you anything sex-related. he’ll take matters into his own hands.
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒. jester!Gojo x lady!Reader, historical AU – medieval, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, banter, eventual smut [MDNI], dubcon, loss of vírginity, ôrgasm denial, overstimúlation, edgīng, glove used as makeshift gag, böndage, Gojo talks you through it, fíngering, cûnnilíngus, finger sucking, cúm swallowing, sqûírting, exhibítionísm, voyeûrísm, crëampîe, table séx, library séx, couch séx, pantry séx, balcony séx, ridíng, máting press, sorta fwb, arranged marriage, angst (w/ implied happy ending), forbidden love, etc etc
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 16.2k
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. thank you for 4k cuties!! accept this as a gift, sorta, idk, this was actually a request; also, this was my first time writing for Gojo, and . . . NEVER again, i tell you. i shan't write for this man EVER again *wipes tears* i'm way more used to writing the big bad wolf Sukuna // available on ao3 // dividers by @/aquazero
Jesters could do many things.
They could dance and sing and laugh. They could read through your deepest fears, your desires, your wants, and exploit them—all in the name of fun. They could write poems, tell tales, play songs; but beneath all their cunning smiles, hidden under their costume and glory, all jesters were but men. Pigs of mud; scum of the earth. Mortals; males; humans.
All jesters were men—plain, stupid men—but not Gojo Satoru.
Not your Gojo Satoru.
No, he was different: he was a piece of shit. In the beginning, at least.
Now, originally, he was a slave—captured from the raidings of a nearby kingdom and thrown into the dungeons. It was unfortunate, really, and you pitied him. But not everyone did. At first, many royal advisors of the king’s court opted for throwing the young boy into a brothel, because they took one good look at his sea-blue eyes, and decided he would be extremely successful for the kingdom as an escort.¹ But, luckily, the king saw wit and potential in the kid, and, instead of throwing him into a brothel, threw him right into the royal court, where he served, from then on, as a jester.
¹ Prostitute.
He was only fourteen when he earned his role as a professional entertainer, and only, still, fourteen when he escaped eternal damnation as a slave.
‘Twas the lives of boys like him, Gojo was just lucky enough to be a pretty boy.
#WANNA PLAY PSYCHO KILLER? t. fushiguro
☆ sum. you know girl, usually when someone’s about to get stabbed, they scream—not moan. ghostface is supposed to be scary, intimidating, terrifying. but what happens when he’s tall, hot, and has a scar that runs down the right side of his lip? maybe his motive this time was to make you scream out his name in another way. welcome to act three.
wc. 7.0k
warnings. fem! reader, ghostface!toji, pwp, roleplay, unprotected, slight dacryphīlia, glove / mask kink, scream spoilers + references, dumbification, knīfe play, biting, he's crazy but your pússy's crazier, fīngering, riding his face mask, hair pulling, first time squīrt, cunnīlingus, pússy drunk toji, spīt, praise, dirty talk, petnames.
“now girl, what the fuck was that,” a husky voice that sounds a bit muffled murmurs out to you. you’re laid on the ground, quite literally seeing the life flash before your eyes as the edge of his jagged knife glimmers against the ceiling light. peeking one open, you’re met with the covered soulless eyes of an infamous ghostface mask, and he’s tilting his head at you. “did i hear ya right?”
as he hovers over you, you speak in a breathy voice. growing sheepish, you glance away. “um, hear what?”
“you moaned, doll,” he replies, and the cottony flaps of his costume brush against your skin the closer he gets. as the coolly aerating air turns dead silent for a few moments, you could hear the sounds of his irregular breaths – deep sinister breaths . . and for some reason, it makes your thighs clench, and not in fear. “right as i said i was gonna gut ya like a fish,” and your own breathing hitched once his gloved finger strokes down your lip. “and i put the knife riiiiiight down here,” he slowly drags the prop down your nearly torn top, “you moaned right as i was about to strike. why?”
“i think . . you’re hearing things,” you rub the back of your neck, but you left off yet another moan the second he slides a knee between your legs.
“nah,” the masked man jibes, and it’s as if he’s staring right through your clothes. with a gloved hand he pulls up his mask, only showing part of his face. he pulls it down inches below his nose as you glance at his scarred lips that show. “think i heard quite well, princess,” and he slowly grazes the soft end of the knife further and further down your skin. “besides, like i said earlier. . i wanna play a game—and we can start with me asking,” and he pauses, leaning up close to your shell of your ear, warm breath tickling against your lobe. “you’re not wearing panties right now, are ya, princess?”
gojo likes watching porn.
not in that weird, pervy way— actually, let’s retract that statement. he doesn’t watch it to fuck his fist to the girls getting dicked down by some scrawny guy.
he uses it as a reference.
oddly enough, he gets aroused by the thought of doing it to you. he memorizes the way the girl’s legs were pushed up to her chest, the pillow placed below her lower back, the angle the guy was hitting it from… he just can’t wait to try it out with you.
gojo follows his usual routine— stuffing two fingers up your wet cunt and swirling them around in that torturous circular movement that had you squirming in seconds, squelching noises almost becoming louder than your own moans before shoving his dick into your needy hole.
his hands wrap around the back of your knees, spreading your legs just enough for him to slot himself in between them. the small tuft of hair at the base of his cock brushes against your swollen and sensitive bundle of nerves with every move of his hips, each thrust carefully thought out to maximize your pleasure. the tip of his cock constantly pushes against your g-spot, brushing against your cervix and causing you to gush all over him.
gojo’s never heard you moan this loud before— and neither has he felt you squeeze around him so good.
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 why would 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 promises to pull out.
❝ HELL ON HEELS . . ! ❞
ᡴꪫ sum. it's your third day on the job as a flight attendant. you work around a lot of snobby rich elites, but a particular one catches your eye. a particular one who tips you $300 dollars in cash and wants way more than just your uninvited attention.
wc. 6.5k
warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, this is how gojo and reader meet, mile high club trope, flight attendant reader, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), semi public sēx, praise kink, degradation, dry humping, squırting, spanking, edging.
an. thank u to everyone who voted for this on the poll <3
the low-pitched whirring of the plane’s engine was quite loud. white noise could be heard through first class as you walked alongside the aisle. with a heavy sigh, you’d just wish the day would be over. the overall duration of the flight was about a good two hours, not too bad but you were already over it. dealing with haughty a-list celebrities or elites as a whole wasn’t for the weak. a majority of them were rude, snobby, and just stuck up individuals. except for one . .
as thick pieces of rubber stick against your heels and clank against the carbon fibre floor, you sashay through and from the rows before a cheeky voice calls over to you. “excuseee me, miss ‘ttendant,” and you crane your neck to where it was coming from. sat right by the window near the left— draped in nothing but a sable-black tuxedo with a pricey g-shock wrapping around his wrist, he simpers. “do you ahh, mind if you . . ?”
“huh,” you quirk your eyebrows into a brow before he nods his head up toward the cabin compartment above all of the seats. “oh,” you give him a soft smile. he takes a quick glance at your name tag that’s glued on the left side of your blazer. you lean over against him, reaching towards the latch to pull it down. the more you get close to him, the more you smell his cologne. it’s so strong, you were sure it was some kind of expensive designer brand. a small grunt leaves your lips as you stretch before just when you’re about to pry open the cabinet, the plane grumbles with a rude shake. a rude shake in which you fall—right onto the older man’s lap who’s got the smuggest grin.
- zayne x reader
husband and wife, at the pinnacle of their love. on a night filled with wonders, you will know that he sees only you and everything that you are
genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—fluff, explicit smut: slightly rough & drunken sex, fingering, missionary. you and zayne have a daughter (her name is meirin!)
note: god what have i written... the anniversary banner pv made me do it T^T anyhow, this is also a direct prequel to the upcoming angst fic in the name of love :))
“Whoa, so that’s Dr. Zayne and his wife...”
Soft whispers rippled through the crowd the moment you and your husband stepped into the pristine ballroom, all eyes subtly drawn to your arrival.
Tonight, you were accompanying Zayne to Akso Hospital’s anniversary dinner party. His sharp gaze and immaculate three-piece suit made a striking impression. Naturally, you matched his sophistication in every way—your flowing black dress accentuated your figure, while your hair styled into an elegant updo.
A sight for sore eyes, that was what the two of you were.
nsfw (18+). includes aphrodisiacs, dry humping, rubbing cock over panties, possessive!caleb, caleb is gentle at first until you piss him off, this is basically ‘testing caleb's patience: the fic’, unprotected sex, creampie, i have to mention that caleb is possessive twice because caleb says some freaky stuff, sappy confession during sex, happy (horny) ending <3 likes and reblogs will be very helpful !!
Caleb doesn't accept love letters and chocolates whenever Valentine's Day comes along. However, girls directly stuff them into his bag without his knowledge sometimes, and you take it upon yourself to eat the sweets because Caleb would just throw it straight to the trash otherwise.
“It's a waste,” you'd always say. “You might not like them back, but they still made the effort to make chocolate for you.”
And then Caleb would shake his head, frowning, “Though most of them mean well, sometimes they put weird stuff in the food. So if I were you, I'd spit out that cupcake, pipsqueak.”
You usually don't heed his warnings—Caleb's always been kind of an overthinker. Now, though, you regret not listening to him as an unfamiliar heat spreads across your body, your core throbbing as you feel yourself dripping in your panties.
...The panties that's rubbing against Caleb's crotch right now, soaking the fabric of his pants while you grind down on him. Caleb's expression looks like a mix of confusion, worry, and arousal, his hands hovering above your waist as if unsure where to touch you. “Nn— hey, what's gotten into you? Do you even know what you're doing right now?”
You see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he nervously swallows, and you start feeling something poking you at your clothed core. Caleb sits up on the sofa where you pushed him down a while ago, grabbing your hands on his shoulders. “C'mon, tell me. I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong.”
Some 18+ audios that I’ve heard that sound a little like the LADS men to me.
They're not supposed to be them, but in the audio, it kinda matches the sounds or phrases they've said in their cards.
NOTE: These audio tracks are not from the game. They are 18+. Do not interact or listen if you are underage.
*WARNING: USE HEADPHONES 🎧*
More will be added to the lists as I find them.
nsfw (18+). includes implied marathon sex, unprotected sex, breeding, breast play, squirting, caleb fucks roughly but still does tender gestures <3, nicknames (pipsqueak is possibly the worst they could've picked for a canon nickname but this is my attempt at making it sound hot). filthy smut from top to bottom. likes and reblogs will be very helpful !!
“C'mon, pipsqueak, raise your hips.”
Caleb squeezes your waist, his thrusts changing from a deep, persistent grind that makes you feel every inch of his cock to a fast-paced pounding. You've long lost feeling in your legs, and the only thing keeping you from sprawling on the bed is Caleb's tight grip on your hips, fucking into you relentlessly from behind.
“Ah...! Wait, Caleb, haah, no more...!”
Each thrust loudly snaps the bedframe against the wall, but it isn't enough to hide the squelching noises between your legs. Slick and cum drip down your thighs, staining the sheets into ruin. They get even messier with a few more thrusts as you gush around his cock unannounced, squirting into the cum-soaked bedsheets.
Caleb groans as your cunt squeezes around him, trying to coax out more of his hot cum. “Fuck, baby, you're so tight... Feels good when your cunt sucks on my cock...”
#THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY. g. suguru
☆ sum. the last thing you’d expect for a surprise birthday present by your friends was a visit to a men’s strip club. geto suguru—your dancer’s got it all. tall, handsome, and he wants waaay more than just thirty minutes with you.
wc. 6.9k (h.. haha)
warnings. fem! reader, stripper au, stripper! geto, unprotected, lap dancīng, dry humping, switch geto, lots of riding, 69, finishing too quick, choking, geto has nīpple piercings, hair pulling, spīt, dirty talk, he licks champagne off you, nīpple play, breedīng, praise, **** cameo :), petnames.
an. ty to the ppl who voted on my poll <3 kinda scared to post this LOL. this came on a whim ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ
“i understand your body wants it. i know your thoughts, oh you ‘bout it ‘bout it . . ”
the erotic lyrics that blared through the club’s abject speakers nearly deafened your ears the moment you stepped inside. you were flashed with a plethora of luminescent jade lights as you read a glowing sign near the bar that read ‘welcome to the vixxxen lounge.’ your friends, who decided to surprise you for your birthday with nothing more than a girls’ trip to a men’s strip club told you they’d be getting drinks if you need them. of course . . that was probably code for: going to spend time near the private rooms.
apparently, it’s ‘happy hour’ which meant countless discounts—and you’d already had your two individual sessions paid for by one of your friends. crisp aerating air waves from the air conditioner chills against your skin as you lean against the bronzy brick pillar. you gather your surroundings, eyeing the oily attractive glossed men that entertained the screaming crowds of thirsty women. the wide stage was spacey, and it almost looked like a concert—you started to wonder just who you were paired up with. but right as you’re pondering deep in thought, there’s a light tap on your shoulder.
“miss.”