“babe, you’re killing me,” satoru groans, head flopping back on the pillow as you straddle him, already rolling your hips. the bedroom’s a mess—sheets tangled, condoms scattered, and satoru’s looking like he’s run a marathon because you have a certain kind of hunger, and he’s your willing victim, but tonight, he’s on fumes.
“just one more,” you tease, nails scraping his chest, and he laughs, almost delirious. “one? you said that four rounds ago.” his hands grab your hips, trying to slow your roll, but you’re not done yet, sliding onto his cock, still hard despite him running on empty. he groans as you take him, riding like it’s a race. “fuck, you’re insane,” he pants, but he thrusts up, weak but game, because he’s just as addicted.
you laugh, kissing him messy, all tongue, and his thrusts get sloppy, like he’s got nothing left. “c’mon, satoru, fill me up,” you goad, bouncing harder, and he groans, half-laughing, half-crying. “fill you? babe, i’m shooting blanks here!” he’s dramatic, hips bucking, face red, but you love it. you come hard, clenching tight, moaning loud enough to wake neighbors.
he tries to keep up, groaning like he’s in pain, body shaking as he hits his peak, but it’s barely a drip, cock twitching with nothing to give. “i’m tapped out, like, zero ammo,” he mumbles, collapsing, and you flop onto him, both giggling, sweaty and gross. he pulls you close, kissing your forehead. “you’re a fucking menace, you know that?”
riding your boyfriend satoru for the first time (o^^o)
you're already halfway down when you realize you might have bitten off more than you can handle.
satoru's cock stretches you open inch by inch, and even with all the prep—his fingers, his mouth, the way he worked you open on the bed of his dorm room until you were dripping and begging—it's still a lot. he's big. you knew that from the way he'd felt against your thigh, from the way he'd groaned when you'd wrapped your hand around him earlier. knowing and feeling are two very different things.
"easy," he murmurs, and his voice is lower than usual, rougher. his hands are on your hips, thumbs pressing into the jut of bone there, but he's not guiding you. he's holding you steady. letting you set the pace. "easy, sweetheart. breathe for me."
you do. shaky inhale through your nose, slow exhale through parted lips. your thighs are trembling where they're bracketing his hips, knees pressed into the mattress on either side of him. he's propped up against the headboard, shirt long since discarded, hair a mess of white silk falling into his eyes.
he looks wrecked already, and you've barely started.
"that's it," he says, and there's a strain in his voice that wasn't there before, a tightness around the edges. "you're doing so good. just—take your time."
you sink lower. another inch. the sensation is overwhelming—full, hot, stretching you in a way that borders on too much. your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails leaving crescents in his skin. he hisses, but it's not from pain.
"fuck," he breathes, head falling back against the headboard. "fuck, you're tight."
you pause, breath catching. "is that bad?"
"no." he laughs, but it comes out strangled. "no, it's not bad. it's—" he grits his teeth, jaw working. "it's a lot. in a good way. keep going."
you push down further, and finally, finally, you're seated fully in his lap. his cock is buried to the hilt inside you, and you feel impossibly full, stretched around him, your body struggling to accommodate his size. you stay still for a moment, just breathing, just feeling.
his hands slide up from your hips to your waist, palms warm and slightly sweaty. he's looking at you with an expression you can't quite read—hunger and wonder and something softer mixed in.
"okay?" he asks.
you nod, swallowing. "okay."
"good." he shifts beneath you, and you feel him twitch inside you, making you gasp. his lips curl into a smirk, but it's strained, his composure crumbling at the edges. "now move when you're ready. however you want. i've got you."
you start slow. experimental rolls of your hips, testing the angle, the friction. each movement sends sparks through your nerves, makes your breath stutter. his hands guide but don't push, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on your skin.
"like that," he says, voice rough. "just like that."
you find a rhythm. rocking forward, grinding down, the wet sound of your bodies meeting filling the quiet room. his head falls back again, eyes fluttering shut, and you watch his throat work as he swallows.
"you feel incredible," he rasps. "god, you have no idea how good you feel."
you pick up the pace, bracing your hands on his chest. the new angle makes him hit deeper, and you moan, head dropping forward. he takes the opportunity to lean up, catching your mouth in a kiss that's all tongue and teeth and desperation.
when he pulls back, he's breathing hard. his bangs are plastered to his forehead. there's a flush spreading across his chest.
"you're doing so well," he says, and his voice cracks on the last word. "fucking—perfect. you're perfect."
you roll your hips harder, chasing the friction, the pressure building low in your belly. his hands grip your waist tighter, and you can feel him fighting the urge to take over, to flip you and fuck you into the mattress.
"close?" he asks.
you nod, too breathless for words.
"me too." he laughs, shaky. "fuck, me too. you're gonna make me—"
he cuts himself off with a groan, his hips bucking up into you despite himself. you gasp at the sudden depth, your walls clenching around him.
"sorry," he grits out. "sorry, i just—you feel too good. i can't—"
his composure is crumbling. the infuriatingly cocky sorcerer is falling apart beneath you, his breathing ragged, his hands shaking where they hold you. he's babbling now, half-words and broken praises, telling you how good you are, how tight, how perfect.
"come for me," he gasps. "please. i need to feel you—"
you do. the command, the desperation in his voice, the way he's barely holding himself together—it pushes you over the edge. you clench around him, a broken moan falling from your lips as pleasure rips through you.
he follows a second later, with a groan that sounds almost pained, his hips thrusting up as he spills inside you. you feel every pulse, every hot rush of him filling you, and it draws your own orgasm out until you're trembling and spent.
you collapse against his chest, both of you slick with sweat, breathing hard. his arms wrap around you, pulling you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
"holy shit," he mutters.
you laugh weakly. "good?"
he tilts your chin up, kissing you slow and deep.
"perfect."
a/n: requested by a lovely anon it was so much fun 2 write hihi
tags 18+ minors dni !! very self indulgent hehe … i’m so soft for him y’all don’t understand 🥹
his lips are cold at first. always cold, like he’s been pressing his mouth to the rim of a glass full of ice just to feel something. you’ve learned to expect it but it still makes you gasp every time, that first shock of chill against your warm mouth, and he loves it. you can feel him smile into the kiss, that infuriating curve of his lips that says got you.
he doesn’t rush. satoru gojo could move faster than light if he wanted to but he kisses you like the world outside doesn’t exist. his hands find your face first, always. long fingers spanning your jaw, thumbs stroking over your cheekbones in slow hypnotic circles. he tilts your head to the side and deepens the kiss, easing you into it, letting you feel every second of it. his bottom lip slots between yours and he just rests there for a moment, breathing you in.
then his tongue traces the seam of your lips, asking, always asking even though he knows the answer will be yes. you open for him and he hums into your mouth, pleased and low, the vibration traveling straight down your spine. he tastes like sugar and something sharper underneath, like the candy he definitely stole from your stash and the mint gum he chewed to cover it up. his tongue curls against yours lazy and thorough, exploring, and his teeth graze your bottom lip just hard enough to make your breath catch. he soothes it immediately with a soft sucking kiss that leaves your lip slick and tingling.
his mouth wanders. it’s a problem, actually, because he can’t stay in one place for long. he pulls back from your lips and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then the bow of your upper lip, then the tiny crease where your smile would be if you weren’t so breathless. he kisses the tip of your nose, your cupid’s bow, your cheek. by the time he’s finished mapping your face your eyes are closed and your lips are parted.
he kisses your closed eyelids, left then right, feather-light. his lips brush your lashes and you feel them flutter against his mouth. he exhales a laugh and the air ghosts warm over your skin.
then he’s at your jaw, trailing open-mouthed kisses down to your chin, then up the other side. he finds the spot just beneath your ear and latches on, sucking gently, not enough to leave a mark but enough to make your fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt. he kisses the shell of your ear, the delicate skin behind it, the curve where your neck meets your shoulder. he breathes there, nose pressed to your skin. “you’re so warm,” he says, “smell so good.”
he kisses your throat. your collarbones. the hollow at the base of your neck where he can feel your heartbeat rabbiting against his mouth. he stays there for a long moment, just feeling it, and when he pulls back his eyes are dark and half-lidded and his lips are pink and kiss bitten and wet.
he kisses you on the mouth again, harder this time, less controlled. his composure slips and his hands drop from your face to your waist, your hips, pulling you flush against him. he kisses you like he’s starving, like the taste of you is the only thing that keeps him human. his tongue slides against yours and his teeth click against yours because he’s smiling again, he’s always smiling, even now. especially now.
his hands roam. up your sides, down your back, fingers splaying wide like he’s trying to touch all of you at once. they settle on your lower back and he presses you closer, impossibly closer, and he’s so warm now, all that cold burned away by the heat between you. he kisses the corner of your mouth again, your chin, the tip of your nose. a quick peck to your forehead. your left cheek. your right cheek. back to your lips.
he pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, and you can feel his lashes brush your brow.
“hey.” he says, voice wrecked.
“hey.” you breathe back.
he kisses the bridge of your nose. “you’re my favorite.”
you roll your eyes but you’re smiling, he can feel it.
ꫂ᭪݁ random things husband!nanami does that you find attractive
content warnings. dadamin 👅, dilf!nanami (aura wise), modern!au duh, reader is pretty weird but arent we all?, reader is referred to as ( darling, sweetheart, angel ), not proofread we die like satoru gojo, you both have a cat, suggestive
author’s note. thank you all for 300 followers ♥︎ i wouldn’t have done this without any of you or your support
EXHIBITION (A): COOKING @ 8:48AM
it was yet another morning in the nanami household. like clockwork, kento woke up early and fed your cat, jazz. his pyjama pants were resting low on his waist, scratches all over his back from last night’s, er.... shenanigans.
he whipped out a pan from the oven and placed it on the stove top, meaning to make pancakes. just as he was pouring the mixture into the oiled pan, he heard your feet padding down the stairs, “good morning, sweetheart,” he said in that raspy, deep voice of his.
you had to bite back a moan, seriously.
i mean, the sight in front of you first thing in the morning was enough to warrant a moan, an orgasm even. your hot husband standing, cooking for you, broad back flexing, sun shining down at him highlighting his features, making him look like an angel in his grey sweatpants glory, finally wearing something that wasn’t his three-piece suit.
nanami’s voice snapped you out of your daze, “darling, are you alright?”
“pshhtttt, why wouldn’t i be alright?” you threw your hand in front of you awkwardly. nanami hums, “i don’t know, you zoned out there for a moment.”
you scoff in response, “what, so i can’t admire my husband nowadays?”
he chuckles, “i didn’t say that, sweetheart.”
the moment is cut at the feeling of a cat nuzzling against your legs. you bend down to pick up the cat in front of you, “good morning, baby” you say in a high-pitched voice and jazz just meows in response. because, believe it or not, that’s what they do.
then you put jazz down and go love on your husband a little bit.
you hug his side and pepper kisses his cheek before trailing down to his neck, sucking some spots there.
yeah, nanami knows that you’re clingy but not to this point. but he chooses not to question it further and soakes in the love you’re showering him with instead.
EXHIBITION (B): DRIVING @ 1:12PM
since it’s a weekend, you both figured it would be nice to go to the beach.
you pack all the things you need and place them in the trunk. you wore a pair of meduim-rise shorts and a cape top underneath your two-piece set. meanwhile, nanami just wore a tshirt over his swimming trunks.
the sun formed a halo around the both of you, making you look like angels.
the car speakers that were connected to your phone were blasting every summertime by niki, perfectly setting that summer vibe.
on a normal day, you would be singing along (loudly and totally off key) to whatever was playing or taking some scenery pictures with you and nanami’s shared camera that you decided to buy even if you’re mostly the one who uses it.
but today is different and somehow just like any other day.
you always stare at nanami when he drives because he just looks so hot doing the most mundane stuff. although today, he just stood out with how the sun was shining over him.
“you’re staring, sweetheart,” nanami breaks the silence glancing briefly at you then returns his attention back to the road.
“i can’t help it, you just look so... scrumptious” you admit shamelessly.
he fucking chuckles and you think it’s the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard despite hearing it many, many times.
you just keep staring in awe, jaw slack. until he utters:
“i can just pull over, you know.”
he’s mostly teasing you and you know he’s just teasing so the next right thing to do is... tease him back, “don’t tempt me with a good time, mr. nanami.”
he chuckles and you both fall back into comfortable silence.
EXHIBITION (C): PUTTING STUFF TOGETHER @ 5:02PM
you both read so often and own so many books you didn’t realise that it was growing ever so rapidly.
that’s led to now: you were leaning on the wall in front of your husband who was currently sprawled on the ground putting together your second bookshelf.
but that’s not the point.
you were biting your lips so much you could almost feel the metallic taste of blood.
why is that?
well, while your dear darling husband was screwing in the screw, the veins on his forearms were bulging and what a sight it was.
to say you were mesmerised would be an understatement.
you genuinely felt like you were gonna pounce at him in any moment.
he turned to see you blantly staring at his forearms and smirked, “like what you see, darling?”
hearing his voice snapped you out of your daze, “you’re just seeing things, ken.”
kento chuckles and replies: “keep staring, sweetheart,” he glances at you, still smirking.
you felt your face flushes even more at his comment. screw you, nanami kento!!!!
EXHIBITION (D): READING @ 9:20PM
you’re tapping the moisturiser into your face and kento is just taking his supplements.
he settles into bed and you follow after wrapping your hair in the bonnet. he wraps his arm around your waist while picking up the book he was reading earlier that day to do what he loves doing most in his free time (other than enjoying your company): read.
jazz climbs up onto the bed and nuzzling into your lap. “hi, baby!!!! you wanna sleep with mama and papa?” you spoke in that high-pitched voice you always use with cats and kids.
the cat in your lap just purrs contently and nuzzles himself deeper into your lap.
but your attention got redirected to something else.
your attention is now on the man sitting next to you, peacefully reading. you decide that his peace isn’t gonna last long.
“ken, has anyone ever told you how handsome you look while reading?” you ask him while grinning like a fool in love (you are).
“no one except you, darling,” he says calmly.
“mmm, maybe i should tell you more often,” you hum sleepily before laying down, drifting off to dreamland.
he kisses your head and murmurs “goodnight, my love.”
Summary: your husband finds out you've been secretly buying lingerie
wc: 2k
a/n: for @yoonsucks 3k interlaced event! congrats!!!
How To Get Your Wife To Wear Her Lingerie In 5 Easy Steps
Step 1- Find The Lingerie Set In Her Shopping Bag
Every time you come back from shopping, Gojo always asks to see a haul of every single thing you’ve bought. He doesn’t care that he has to take several trips to the car just to bring all the bags inside the house. The more money you spend, the more excited he is.
He showers you with compliments while you try on all of your new clothes and shoes. Smells the new candles you bought for the house. And he notices when there’s one bag in particular that you haven’t opened up, one that you keep trying to subtly move further and further behind the rest of them.
Could it be a present?
While you’re busy putting on another dress to show him, Gojo sneakily makes his way over to the pile and opens up that pretty little bag. What he finds inside delights him.
Underneath the layers of tissue paper lay a lacy, pink set of lingerie, woven with the most dainty little flowers. He laughs out loud when he sees it, imagining you wearing it for him later that night.
When he hears your footsteps he quietly tucks the lingerie back into the bag, but he can barely contain himself and has to cover his mouth to hide his smile.
So later that night, he waits as you finish up in the bathroom, lying all suggestively on the bed with a hand tucked behind his head and a grin on his face.
The door opens up, and at first his view of you is hidden by clouds of steam from the shower. Then, you emerge from the fog like an angel, dressed in–
An oversized T-shirt and a pair of his sweats?
You’re brushing your teeth and staring confusedly at your husband, wondering why he’s lying in this candle lit room in nothing but his boxers.
“Toru…what’s all this?” you ask through a mouthful of toothpaste.
Gojo quickly recovers from his confusion. “What? Can’t a man romance his wife?”
After a minute of debating whether he’s really serious or not, you shrug, spit out your toothpaste, then join him on the bed for a good dick down.
Step 2- Discover Her Secret Lingerie Collection In The Back Of Her Drawer
That lingerie set’s been in the back of Gojo’s mind ever since he first spotted it, but you haven’t brought it up so neither has he.
It could’ve been an impulse buy, something that initially caught your eye but you later regretted. Maybe it didn’t fit. Maybe you returned it.
Gojo’s in the bedroom folding up clothes while he thinks this over, and then, like the universe can hear his thoughts, he spots something in the back of your underwear drawer.
Among the monochrome assortment of panties and bras, a flicker of color.
He just has to see what could be hiding back there...
A red, chiffon slip dress, trimmed with little lace hearts.
But that’s not all. The deeper back Gojo looks into the drawer, the more he finds.
Sets with thin camisole tops and flowy little shorts that’d perfectly hug the swell of your ass.
Sheer, soft colored bodysuits.
He’s not even sure how half of them are worn, but his favorite is a crotchless, light blue babydoll set the same color as his eyes.
And everything is decorated in lace, lace, lace.
Lace bows, lace straps, lace flowers, lace trim–lace everything. In every shape and form, and in every color of the rainbow.
How has he never seen any of these before…and how does he get you to start wearing them?
Step 3- Start Hinting Towards It In Conversations
Gojo’s been wondering how to bring up the topic of the lingerie without admitting that he’s been snooping through your stuff. Sure, it was an accident, but any hint that he knows your secret might embarrass you and make you even more reluctant to wear them for him.
But the perfect opportunity arises when he sees you in a pink sweater that’s the same shade as that first set of lingerie he saw.
It’s something you rarely wear, a scratchy turtleneck that’s been sitting in the back of your closet for months. You've been debating whether or not to throw it out for a while now.
When Gojo spots you in it his eyes light up and he wraps your waist in a hug from behind.
“I like that sweater,” he says grinning against your ear.
“Really?” You look down at the ugly thing you’ve got on. “I only put it on because it’s cold.”
“Yes, really. I really, really like it. Especially that color….”
“Oh. Well…thank you,” you respond, although you’re seriously judging your husband's fashion taste.
Then, five minutes after the conversation has ended, Gojo brings it up again. “I told you I love that color on you, right?”
“Yeah, you told me…literally five minutes ago.”
Gojo smiles. “Because it’s true. I love it.”
And you give him a confused little nod, because the sweater was about to go right to the donation center. But since he likes it so much, maybe you’ll keep it.
In Gojo’s mind, complimenting the color of the sweater should translate to any other articles of clothing you have in that color. And once you connect the dots you’ll wear the lingerie for him.
Throughout the week he starts making even more puzzling, random comments.
“Put a finger down if you’ve ever hidden something from your husband.”
“Have you ever wanted to wear underwear but like, fancier?”
“Wouldn’t it be crazy if we had sex while wearing clothes?”
But either you’re ignoring all of his hints or you really don’t understand what he means, because you haven’t been entertaining these remarks of his. So now he has to bring out one last trick.
Step 4- Give Her Insane Amounts of Money Everytime She Goes Shopping
Gojo’s been practically begging you to go out shopping all week long, and you’ve finally finally agreed to go, although you don’t understand why he’s pushing so hard for it.
“Fine, if you want me out of the house that bad…” you sigh as you grab your keys.
“No, it’s not that. I’m coming with you.”
Gojo takes you to an outdoor mall, and it’s a beautiful day outside. The sun is shining, the birds are singing. The perfect setup for people to make impulsive purchases.
The whole trip Gojo’s on his best behavior, waiting patiently for you to browse through store after store, giving you his opinions as you try on different outfits. He doesn’t complain. He doesn’t even try to get you to stop at the food court so he can sample all of the desserts.
Something else a bit…sweeter is on his mind. The thought of you using his card to buy yourself some more lingerie.
Pretending it’s accidental, Gojo guides you towards one store in particular(one he knows sells lingerie), pointing out some random robe he sees in the storefront window.
“This one next!”
You hesitate to go inside. “Are you sure?”
Gojo nods. “Yes. I’m sure. It looks like your kind of place.”
You don’t move an inch, and Gojo smiles, thinking he knows the problem. ‘Of course she wouldn’t want me to follow her around when she buys lingerie! It’ll ruin the surprise.”
So Gojo just pulls out his card and hands it to you. “I’ll be over at the food court. Get yourself something… special.”
He gives you this little smirk that you have no idea what he means by, and he chuckles as he turns on his heel to walk away.
While he enjoys something sweet in the food court he see a message from you asking if he’s getting tired and wants to leave soon. He just types back, “Nope. Take your time, sweetheart ;)"
And sends you an extra $100 dollars, because why not?
Surely you’ll get the hint.
Step 5- Get Caught Jerking Off To Her Lingerie
It’s now been officially a week and a half since Gojo first found that lingerie in your shopping bag. But despite all his efforts, you still have no idea what he’s trying to hint at. The only thing he’s accomplished is making you think he’s lost his mind.
The thought of you all dressed up in one of those lacy sets has been torturing him for a while now, so today, when you’re out shopping, Gojo can’t help but shove open your underwear drawer, pull out the first lingerie set he sees, and stuff it up to his nose.
It smells like fresh laundry detergent rather than your scent and that disappoints him a bit but…the fact that it smells like laundry must mean you’ve worn it recently. And if you’ve worn it recently it means this fabric was all pressed up against your skin…
The hand that’s not holding onto the lingerie pulls out his aching cock, and he closes his eyes and jerks his fist to the thought of you. How you’d look splayed out underneath him on the bed, all decked out in soft, pretty lace.
How he’d caress you through the dainty fabric and feast his eyes on the sight of you all wrapped up for him like his own personal present.
Gojo jerks himself harder as the scene in his mind becomes more and more clear. He can practically feel the warmth of your skin. Taste the sweetness of your lips. Hear you moaning and and whining and–
“Toru?”
There you are, standing in the doorway and watching your husband in shock. He quickly whips around to face you, looking surprised–but not the least bit guilty.
“I thought you–fuck–left to go shopping.”
“I was about to… but I forgot my coat…” Your explanation dies down and your confusion increases as you see what’s stuffed into your husband's fist near his face.
A flash of light pink lace… it’s that set you bought last week!
He’s sniffing it and crushing it in his grasp. Ramming his hand down onto his cock and making obscene moans, all while keeping eye contact with you.
“Is that my–”
“Yes, " he answers quickly. “Why–why did you hide them from me, baby?”
It’s impossible for you to formulate a coherent sentence while watching the filthy sight unfolding before you. Your husband looking all crestfallen and hurt and furiously fucking his poor flushed dick.
But if you had the words to explain you’d tell him that you weren’t hiding them, exactly. Most of your lingerie has been gifted to you by your friends. You’d only recently bought that little pink set on your own. Several times you debated surprising Gojo by wearing them one night, but you were too embarrassed to actually go through with it. So you were satisfied by just owning some pretty pieces of clothing to wear for yourself in the mirror every now and then. You never thought your husband would react like this.
“Wear it for me, please,” Gojo begs. And you can’t deny him when he’s asking like this.
As you go over to him to reach out to pry the lingerie from his grasp, he quickly shakes his head. “No, no. The crotchless blue ones.”
You raise a brow, because how would he know about that pair? Gojo just gives you a shy smile and watches as you open your dresser and take out that light blue set that matches his eyes.
You can feel his heated gaze still on you as you slip your clothes off and take your time stepping into the dress.
When you turn towards Gojo and he gets the full sight of you, his hips stutter and he almost cums right then and there.
“Fuck–you look beautiful,” he breathes.
The lingerie in his hand is forgotten and tossed to the floor as he sinks down to his knees and grabs your hips. His lips kiss at the soft flesh between your thighs before he’s parting them and watching as wetness drips from your swollen pussylips.
“So wet for me,” he whispers, his warm breath ghosting over your clit and making you shiver. “Liked watching me jerk off, huh?”
Your husband nuzzles his nose towards the scent of you and and moans deeply, then he nudges two fingers inside your hole and licks a long stripe up to your clit. He starts sucking and licking and thrusting those fingers in and out of you. Then he’ll pull the fingers completely out and suck your wetness from them before shoving them right back in.
It's like seeing you wearing lingerie gave him some newfound vigor, because he's lapping and sucking you like a man starved. Like he'll die if he stops. And he's intent on showing you that with every motion of his mouth and hands.
When he pulls his head away for a fraction of a second to gulp up some air, you grasp his hair and pull him right back to you. “Keep going, Toru–I’m close,” you huff as you cling to the white strands of his hair for purchase.
Gojo obliges, grinning and mumbling about what a ‘needy little thing you are’, and yet he’s the one moaning and bucking his hips into nothing, already pussydrunk from tasting you for a few minutes.
His hand gripping your hip moves back to your ass so he can push you even closer. And with this new sensation of being all pressed up against his face, you’re cumming, moaning and yanking hard on his hair in a way that he seems to like.
He finger fucks you through the last waves of his orgasm, then rises to his feet and carries you over to bed.
Gojo yanks his clothes off and hovers above you with arms on each side. And his eyes widen as he fully drinks in the sight of you laying down before him. Just like he imagined. But better.
But he’s not moving. He’s not even breathing.
And this is what you were worried about. Him seeing you like this and not liking it. Your hands instinctively move up to cover yourself but–
“No, sweetheart. Don't cover yourself. I want to see you.”
Gojo gently moves your hands away, and his own start to roam over you, caressing your body and rubbing you through the material of the lingerie. It’s almost teasing, to have you so covered yet still so exposed. To have you in something only he will see.
And then he’s kissing you, all hungry and hot and wet, while grinding his dick back and forth through your folds.
“Toru, put it inside,” you're whining.
He does, with one, deep thrust that has you gasping and arching your back. He sits inside of you for a bit, allowing you to adjust to the size of him.
“You take me so well, pretty girl,” he murmurs against you.
And tonight your husband doesn’t fuck you, he makes love to you. All slow and gentle and passionate. Each thrust like a deep kiss into your body. Each touch of his hands tender, adoring graze. Like you might break if he holds you too hard.
The whole time he's whispering and murmuring praises, about how good you feel about how beautiful you look. Rambling a whole mess of words like he's not even aware of what he's saying.
He slides his dick alllll the way in, rolling his hips and rubbing over all your most sensitive spots. And then he dragggs himself out, his veins massaging your walls.
His thumb travels down to swipe at your clit and it’s all too much–his mouth at your neck, his cock stuffing you full, and his thumb just gently circling until you finally finish and cry out his name.
And Gojo’s close, too, his head tilted back and his eyes fluttering shut but fighting to stay open so he can keep watching you. His hips pull back and you know the second he thrusts into you again he’s going to cum, but you never feel the warm spurts of his release.
Instead, he pulls his dick out completely and aligns it with your stomach, finally shooting his hot ropes of cum all over your belly. He watches in fascination as the sheer blue material darkens in color and clings to your skin, and he starts thrusting his dick back and forth through his own release and spreading it all over your chest.
You scoff in disbelief when he’s finished, but he stares down at the mess he’s made like it’s a piece of art.
“W-what the fuck, Satoru? You know I can’t wear this anymore, right?”
Gojo wipes the frown away from your face with a gentle stroke against your cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll buy you a thousand more of these sets, baby.”
gojo's private residence is different from anywhere else you've seen him. here, without the audience, without the need to perform, he's softer. real.
"come here, baby," he says, pulling you onto his lap on the couch. his kiss is slow, sensual, taking his time to explore your mouth.
his hands slide under your shirt, warm against your skin. "want to take my time with you tonight," he murmurs against your lips. "want to worship every inch of you."
he undresses you slowly, reverently, pressing kisses to each new bit of exposed skin. when you're naked, he lays you back on the couch, settling between your legs.
"so beautiful, love," he says, running his hands up your thighs. "let me make you feel good."
his mouth finds your pussy, and he licks through your folds with languid strokes. there's no rush, just pure pleasure as he explores you with his tongue. he circles your clit, sucks it gently, then pushes his tongue inside you.
"satoru," you moan, threading your fingers through his white hair.
he hums against you, the vibration making you shiver. he adds two fingers, curling them inside your pussy while his mouth works your clit. the combination is devastating, and your orgasm builds slowly, intensely.
when you come, it's like waves washing over you, and he works you through every pulse of pleasure.
he kisses his way up your body, and you taste yourself on his lips. "your turn," you whisper, pushing him back.
you take your time exploring his body—his defined abs, his strong thighs, before finally wrapping your hand around his cock. he's hard and thick, and when you take him in your mouth, he groans.
"fuck, baby, your mouth feels so good."
you work him with your tongue, taking him as deep as you can. his hand rests gently in your hair, not controlling, just connecting. when you pull off, he's breathing hard.
"need to be inside you," he says, pulling you up to straddle him.
you sink down onto his cock slowly, both of you moaning as he fills your pussy inch by inch. when he's fully seated, you pause, savoring the fullness.
"you feel perfect," he breathes, hands on your hips. "absolutely perfect, love."
you start to move, rolling your hips, and his head falls back against the couch. the angle lets him hit deep inside you, and you set a slow, sensual pace.
"that's it, baby. take what you need. use my cock."
his hands roam your body—cupping your breasts, sliding down to where you're joined, rubbing your clit. the intimacy of it, the way he looks at you like you're everything, makes this different from any other time.
"satoru, i'm close," you gasp, moving faster.
"me too, love. come with me."
he thrusts up to meet your movements, and the added friction sends you over the edge. your pussy clenches around his cock as you come, and he follows immediately, filling you with his cum as he pulls you down for a deep kiss.
you collapse against his chest, both of you breathing hard. his arms wrap around you, holding you close.
"love you so much, baby," he whispers into your hair.
"love you too," you reply, pressing a kiss over his heart.
in this private moment, he's not the strongest sorcerer. he's just yours.
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ . ݁ 18+ | dry humping with nerdjo when you’re ovulating
you had pushed him back on his dorm bed, unable to help yourself when he was going on about something that happened during one of his classes. how he corrected the professor who tried to save their own pride by arguing with your self-assured boyfriend.
your thighs were squeezing together while he told you about it, a cute pout on his lips because he knew he was right. and you could barely catch the whole story because you were busy staring at his lips. at his jaw that you were tempted to take out a protractor and see just how sharp it was. at his arms bulging in his hoodie when he folded them over his chest.
you couldn’t handle it. your panties were becoming soaked.
you didn’t bother taking off either of your clothes, flipping your skirt up and straddling him to grind against him.
“b-baby-- fuck…” he whimpers, hands clutching your waist as you rut desperately against the bulge in his jeans, the fabric quickly becoming darker from a combination of his pre and your arousal. “what’s hah gotten into you?”
“i love you,” you whisper, leaning down, breath mingling with his. “i love hearing you speak. everything about you. mm, fuck… you make me so wet.”
he has to bite back a moan in response to your words. he stutters out something along the lines of an “i love you” back. then, he remembers the little note in his calendar that he put, keeping track of your cycle.
oh.
his glasses are foggy and skewed on his face, but he’s staring up at you with glassy eyes, a starry gaze of love and awe in them. he’s panting softly, mouth parted. you take his chin between your fingers, urging him to open his mouth further and you spit right onto his tongue.
he whines. loudly. his hips bucking up violently into yours, his clothed bulge catching on your clit just right. his hold tightens on your hips and he can’t help the frantic humping as he holds you down firmly on his lap. he ruts and ruts, like he’s the one in heat. already looking completely ruined.
“fuck, fuck. oh, fuck, you’re so hot. i need to… can i fuck you, please, baby?”
you slow down your hips, gyrating them in lecherous circles and figure 8’s, head tipping back as you moan so sweetly into the sultry air. your panties are a sticky mess at this point, sticking to you like a second skin, see-through and filthy.
“can’t, ‘toru. we don’t have condoms right now. plus this feels sooo good.”
“i’ll pull out, i promise,” he insists, breathy and needy. he can feel you soaking him through the layers of fabric, your heat making him twitch within the confines of his jeans. he aches to feel your cloying warmth wrapped around him instead. “jus’… hah need you so bad.”
“you can never pull out. you’re so weak when it comes to me,” you whisper again, and he groans, head lolling back on his pillow.
he knows you’re right, but god, does he need you.
you start to hump him faster again, the slick puddle between the two of you easing the glide of your hips. you grind against him like you’re riding him, completely taking control and making him dizzy. he feels like he’s going insane. and each time his cock drags against you just right, your thighs tremble on each side of his lap, only making you gush again, continuously leaking.
“love this so much, ‘toru,” you mewl, planting your palms on his chest so that you can grind against him faster and harder. a shiver runs through you, a shock of pleasure pulling your eyes back into your skull. “you feel so good like this.”
that hot little pool of pleasure in your lower abdomen growing hotter and spreading through you.
he’s whimpering out your name like a sacred prayer, sweat rolling down his neck as he tries to suppress the urge to fuck you. tries and fails pathetically. all he can think about is the way your sweet walls massage his cock, dripping all over him and sending him to heaven early.
“‘m gonna die like this. not being able to fuck you.”
“you’re so cute when you’re needy,” you giggle, leaning back down and kissing him. it’s a hungry kiss, like both of you are starving for each other, teeth clashing, moaning hotly into each other’s mouths.
one of his hands trail up from your hip to the back of your head, tangling in your hair and keeping you in place to kiss you like it might be the last time he ever will. his tongue slides against yours before you capture it between your lips and suck gently.
you feel his fingers twitch on your hip and in your hair, a muffled moan resounding through him and his eyes roll back. his body trembles beneath yours, grasp tightening on your hip before it slowly relaxes again. you feel warmth quickly seeping through your panties, something hot that isn’t your own slick.
pulling back from the heated kiss, you look down at him, seeing the flush deepening on his cheeks and the hazy look in his baby blue eyes. he’s gently rutting into you, dick pulsing with each grind.
“did you just cum?” you ask, awe and a deeper desire taking over the look in your eyes.
he drapes his arm over his eyes, catching his breath. “maybe. a tiny bit.”
you giggle again, looking down at the dark patch on his jeans that got bigger. “a little bit, huh?” you continue to rub yourself against him, and it doesn’t take long for his cock to twitch back to life. “think you can go again? i don’t think i can stop.”
he slumps back, but still eager to please you. “you really are gonna kill me.”
𝜗℘ ˖ ࣪ . ˖˙ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. satoru picks you up after a long day at uni. sensing your jealousy about the attention he’s getting from your fellow students, he makes it up to you in his own way.
tags \\ warnings. olderbf!gojo x female reader. fluff, tiny bit of angst, suggestive (make out sesh). age gap (reader above 20, gojo early 30’s). jealousy. reader gets called ‘princess, baby, beautiful.’ not proof read !
satoru’s arrival, as per usual, serves as pure entertainment for many students. it’s not often that they get to see such a tall and handsome man around campus after all.
you patiently stand there, waiting for that said man to come and get you. the increase in giggles and whispers around you can only mean one thing: he’s nearby.
your boyfriend’s car comes to a stop in the distance. satoru steps out of the driver’s seat a second later, one of his hands running through his fluffy, snowy hair.
‘. . damn, he’s fucking hot,’ ‘yep. heard he’s in a relationship though. sucks,’ ‘girl— do i look like i care? need him so baaaaddd.’
it’s infuriating to hear those words while you, his girlfriend, are standing close to them. you decide not to give those girls any attention nor do you try to speak up. it’s not worth the effort.
satoru closes the car door behind him, his hands in the pockets of his slacks while he strolls up to where you’re standing. it’s as if he’s walking down a runway—graceful, confident, every step executed with perfect balance.
he can hear the murmurs from the students around, but he simply does not care. his steady gaze has been fixed on you the moment he spotted your figure from across campus.
“cute,” satoru mutters under his breath with a small smile, blue eyes taking in the sight of you standing there against a wall. the way you’re fiddling with the strap of your bag while pretending not to have noticed him is quite endearing.
you look down at the ground until a pair of black oxfords come into view, stopping right in front of yours. you slowly tilt your head back until you’re face to face with the man himself.
“hey, beautiful,” satoru greets, his voice smooth and slightly deep, a faint smirk playing on his lips. his knuckles brush against your cheek while he admires your every feature, acting as if he hasn’t seen you in days.
you nod in response, whispering a small ‘hi’ before your eyes dart around campus again. your bottom lip pushes forward just a tiny bit to form a small pout.
. . and there it is. satoru knows that look in your eyes like the back of his hand. he’s seen that same pout before, along with the hint of jealousy lurking behind your gaze that you try so hard to hide.
he understands why you’re feeling that way.
the other girls on campus, the way they ogle him and whisper, it would make any woman insecure. but to him, there was no need for that. satoru is yours, and he’s made that known to every single soul around you a million times before.
perhaps they need to be reminded once more.
satoru wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close, his touch gentle yet possessive. he can see how you’re trying to act all normal, though he knows you way better than that.
the pad of his thumb rubs small circles into your hip as your lover leans in and speaks in a low yet intimate voice that only you get to hear, “oh? look at you, acting all tough with your little pout.”
“tell me. what’s up, princess?” satoru whispers, his breath warm against your ticklish skin. he lowers his head to your face and plants a small kiss on your nose, gaining a mix of delighted yet irritated whispers of the people around you.
“usually you jump right into my arms after seeing me— y’know, like a lil’ bunny,” satoru starts sulking as well, pressing your body flush against his. “where’s my cute ‘n clingy babyyyy?”
his over-exaggerated whine makes your nose scrunch up, though you can’t deny the truth. he knows you better than you know yourself. he can see right through your attempt to disguise your jealousy, yet you’re still too stubborn to admit anything.
“whatever. come on,” you roll your eyes before grabbing his arm and tugging him forward. you want nothing more than to escape your surroundings. you’re getting tired of the continuous and unwanted attention satoru is getting.
it’s irksome. you know satoru doesn’t give them the attention they so desire, he never will, yet you still feel this pang in your chest whenever you see those girls shamelessly ogling your boyfriend.
satoru, being naturally observant, notices your sudden eagerness to leave campus. he can tell that your jealousy is growing worse because of the other students that keep on eyeing him. while he is used to the attention, he hates seeing it affect you.
the whispers and giggles from the other women are like white noise, insignificant background fodder that barely warranted his notice. you’re all he sees and listens to—no matter what.
your presence, your voice, your body, your soul. . . you’re the only one he cares about. he just wishes you’d realise that more often.
satoru wordlessly allows himself to be dragged off. his gaze is fixated on the back of your head, a mixture of amusement and worry glinting in those blue eyes of his. he can’t help but feel guilty. even if he didn’t really do anything wrong.
he wants to make it up to you, somehow.
once you reach the car, satoru gently shoos your hand away from the door handle the moment he catches you try to get in yourself. he reaches around you and pulls it open with a soft ‘click’.
satoru then surprises you by kissing your forehead—his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head. his fingers bury themselves in your hair. a subtle smirk tugs at his glossy lips as he senses the envious glares from the other, irrelevant onlookers.
that’s exactly what he’s trying to accomplish. to make it known to the world that he’s your man. he’ll gladly do it over and over again, until all of them finally take the hint.
“ladies first,” satoru gestures, his voice gentle and loving. he pulls back and smiles at you with his dimples showing. you’re slightly taken aback by the smooth gesture before thanking him in a small murmur.
“thank you.”
it’s silent for a good couple seconds after satoru gets into the driver’s seat. he settles his keys into the ignition switch, though doesn’t turn them. instead, he faces you with a small sigh.
your lover already recognises what’s up. you probably won’t talk to him until the jealousy subsides. but that isn’t how he wants to fix this situation— he wants you to communicate with him.
“hey,” satoru tries to get you to look at him. your body is slightly turned away, your eyes looking out of the car window. it’s painfully obvious that you’re upset with him, even when it isn’t specifically his fault.
“don’t hide from me, c’mon,” he chuckles and tries to make you feel better by bringing your hand up to his lips. satoru leaves small kisses on your palm, eyes peering over the rims of his sunglasses to gauge your reaction.
you still don’t turn to face him. you’re too caught up in your own feelings— too stubborn to talk about the jealousy and insecurities that are bugging you. you know it’s unfair to your partner, but you currently can’t fix your own emotions.
sensing your insistent reluctance to face him, satoru places his hand gently under your chin. his fingers curl around your jaw and gently guide your gaze to meet his. the sight of your downcast expression, plagued with insecurity, tugs on his heartstrings.
“oh, my sweet little baby,” satoriu sighs once more.
without another word, the gap between you quickly closes as satoru leans in, his lips meeting yours in a firm but soft kiss. a soft gasp escapes your lips at the suddenness of his kiss, but the tension in your shoulders slowly starts to dissappear as you melt into his embrace.
the touch of his calloused fingers on your jaw is a wordless command you cannot resist. the kiss is a silent form of reassurance, a way for him to remind you of his feelings for you.
his want and need for you.
satoru can nearly taste the jealousy etched into your initial resistance, which he seeks to silence with his touch. thus, he deepens the kiss with renewed vigor. his free hand cups the back of your head and gently tilts it upwards to gain a better angle.
“mh. sweet,” satoru’s tongue swipes over your bottom lip. he eagerly swallows the faint taste of candy that you had eaten earlier. his tongue delves into your mouth the moment your lips make way, memorising every part of it.
he doesn’t let go of you until you’re both breathless. the sorcerer pulls back, though keeps the distance between your lips at a minimum. his cheeks are painted a soft pink, eyes half lidded and lips even glossier with your saliva now coating them.
“haah—fuck,” satoru catches his breath while his free hand rubs up and down your waist. he resists the urge to pull you into his lap and ravage you right then and there. he’ll leave that for when you’re home.
his gaze is on your parted lips once more. he simply cannot hold himself back from leaning in. his body moves closer to yours, caging you in between him and the passenger seat.
“i’m all yours,” satoru murmurs against your soft lips. he cups your face as he places a quick peck on your mouth. “only yours,” another chaste kiss causes your smile to find its way back onto your face. “don’t you forget,” and a third kiss finally makes you giggle.
your lover hums in satisfaction. he nuzzles his nose against yours, grinning widely as he successfully managed to coax the jealousy away—to gain his beautiful, happy girlfriend back.
“there she is,” satoru coos and squeezes your cheeks together.
you huff at the feeling of your lips forced into a deformed ‘o’ shape, yet the bright smile tugging at your lips doesn’t disappear. “sorry for acting so childish,” you apologise for your own behavior. if it wasn’t for satoru taking the initiative to make it up to you, you would have given him the silent treatment.
your boyfriend shakes his head. he ruffles your hair affectionately while his lips settle on your cheek. he tenderly nibbles on the plush flesh, “no need to apologise. ‘t was cute,” he replies in a muffled voice.
satoru pulls back and his thumb brushes over the subtle mark that his teeth left on your skin. “besides,” he pinches your cheek before cocking his head to the right. your eyes follow the direction he’s looking at— which is your car window.
“i think everyone finally realised that y’re the one ‘n only girl for me.”
your heart drops as you only then remember that satoru’s car windows aren’t tinted. that means that everyone on campus probably has seen the little make out session you had with your boyfriend just now.
your eyes quickly dart around the crowded area. the way your fellow students are glancing at you - some with envy and others with embarrassment - tells you more than enough. . .
you clear your throat and try to hide your face with the sleeves of your top. you don’t know how you’re going back to university after today without facing the humiliating consequences of your (satoru’s) actions.
your shameless boyfriend sits there and grins from ear to ear, proud of his accomplishment and oblivious to your embarrassed state until you speak up again;
“. . satoru, please drive away as fast as you can.”
˖ ࣪૮₍ 𝓖.𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𓂃 ⭒ witnesses one of your meltdowns for the first time
“do you always cry like this?”
satoru's mutter stirred shame in your gut, but his thumb rubbing beneath your eyelid kissed comfort on your wet skin.
you choked a sob, fingers coiling in his shirt as you curled into his lap. “it's ugly,” is all you could quiver.
a large hand found the back of your head, cupping it and bringing you closer so that it tucked beneath his chin. “hey now,” he mumbled, impossibly soft and incredibly tender as long arms engulfed you.
“my pretty girl could never be ugly.”
“don't lie to me.”
his heart broke. deep and fragmented as he squeezed you closer. perhaps if your soul merged with his, he could protect you that way. shield you from the world that dared to crumble you. maybe that way, he could take the pain.
please, whatever god was listening, just let him take the pain.
“you just have big emotions,” he whispered into your hair after a slow, firm kiss to your forehead. he stroked along your spine, fingers spelling out love in every inch.
“and hey,” his voice lightened. “I'm a big guy. so I can handle them.”
as you hiccuped pitifully and nodding through streaming tears, he embraced your face in his hands and ghosted his lips on yours.
“so don't hold back on my part, y'hear me, sweet girl? let me hold the ‘ugly’ parts of you too.”
Summary - You bribe your best friend Satoru Gojo with Digimon Merch into pretending to date you for your sister's wedding. In order to get your parents off your back about being a loner, you feel they'd buy it - you've been friends forever, after all. You all go full out, fake kisses, and sharing a bed - problem is that you both have feelings that are far too real.
Warnings - fluffy and cute, idiots in love, thigh riding, a fk ton of sexual tension, Toru being sweet, nerdjo mention. Oral ( f receiving) reader is a virgin, so first time with Toru (yay!) girl on top hehe, fingering, teasing, creampie, multiple orgasms, talking you through it -happy end of course! Oneshot - wc- 13k
This won the poll for the 25k event! thank you all so much for following me and being so amazing <3 got a girl blushing!
“Come on, please?” You tug at Satoru Gojo’s dark blue jacket, pouting up at him, he just rolls his pretty blue eyes.
“Don’t you make that face, I won’t give in this time.”
“I’ll buy you so much Digimon merch!” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Toru!”
“Don’t you ‘Toru’ me,” he crosses his arms, leaning back in the seat – the two of you are in a little cafe together, the one you meet up at once a month. It used to be once a week, but life has gotten ahold of you all pretty good, now that you are twenty three and out of college, both so busy it’s hard.
Satoru’s been your best friend for as long as you can remember, and you never want to lose him.
“Toru…”
“Stop using that to your advantage,” he looks at you again, pouting with those glossy lips of his. “You know I always do anything when you give the puppy eyes.”
“Pretty please,” you bat your lashes, so cute Satoru can’t say no. He was going to relent anyway, but he loves to get you going.
“Oh fine.”
“Yay!” You hug him tightly, that way you always do that makes it difficult to hug you back, you’re too close, pressed against him, making him feel too much.
Satoru’s been close to you forever, he can’t lose you because you’re just so pretty, you smell so good. Can’t lose you because your touch makes him ache more and more over the years. All of that, bad ideas, especially when you’re one of the closest people to him. His hand comes to the small of your back, inhaling the sweetness of your shampoo, letting it fill his senses.
“Are you sniffing me?”
“Huh, what? No.” Satoru so was, you pull back and giggle all cute, eyes lit up when you kiss his cheek. His hands tense, shoving you playfully. “Yuck.”
“Oh what, I still have cooties?” You raise a brow at him, he shivers in feigned disgust.
“Worse than ever now.”
“Psh,” you sip your drink, his thigh is brushing against yours, and you don’t move away like you should. Satoru’s body feels far too good against yours.
Your parents seem to think you’re hopeless, since you really haven’t ever dated, but how can you, when Satoru exists? It’s a hopeless state of affairs, loving someone you’re so close to, literally in the damn sandbox together. Even if you crossed that line – Satoru’s never shown any interest.
How embarrassing would that be?
“Maybe it will be fun, you think of that?” You tease, trying to feign a little more ease than you have.
“You just wanna lay in bed with me,” Satoru brushes his hair back and winks, grinning when you glare at him. “Admit it.”
“Yeah, never happening - but we will have to share the room to make it believable for sure.”
“Are they really on your case that bad?” You wrap your lips around your straw, addling Satoru’s senses so badly he can’t even look at you.
The feelings just grow more and more, and pretending to date you would just make him want what he shouldn’t. “They are on my case, they think I’m just wasting away and gonna be a cat lady.”
“You do give cat lady energy.”
“Hey!”
He’s chuckling now, sipping on his own drink, you watch how the sunlight filters in through the window, casting shadows across the hard planes of his face.
Sometimes Satoru is just too handsome for his own good.
“Did you hear me?” He waves a hand in front of your face, and you realize you spaced out looking at his lips too long.
“Sorry, what?”
“How much Digimon merch?” You laugh, shaking your head just a bit.
“However much you want, but you’ll have to be very convincing, you’ll have to kiss me and everything,” you tease, smacking your lips at him, he tenses a bit then, picturing his lips all over his best friend. “Will it be that bad?”
“The worst,” his voice is soft, hoarse with desire that he almost lets spill from his lips. “Bet you suck at it.”
“Bet I’m better than you,” you lean close, far too close, a hand on his chest then, looking up at him under your lashes, his heart races just a bit even as he puts on a casual smirk. “Wanna practice?”
“I’ll require so much merch, in fact you’ll have to come to the con with me – all dressed up as one – if you want a kiss before I have to.”
“You’re so bratty, Satoru Gojo,” he exhales when you pull back, realizing he’s now throbbing under his damn jeans in a coffee shop with his best friend. “Fine, we’ll wait until we have to.”
“We’re staying three days, right?”
“Yes, mom and dad love you anyway.”
“How will you break it to them when they find out it’s not real?” You wrack your brain, sighing then.
“I’ll think of something, but at least for this wedding, I'll be in your debt forever.”
“That’s tempting, I can’t wait to take advantage.” You both laugh, and Satoru tries to figure out just how he’s going to handle ‘pretending’ with you.
*****
“I’m never letting you drive again.”
“I wasn’t that bad!” Satoru pouts at you, damn near running out of the car when you all step out.
“Horrible, god how’d you get a licence,” you glare, and he snatches your keys up, holding them high. “Hah! Can’t reach?”
“Who can, you giant!” You’re hopping while he laughs, but then your tits just bounce too much, so he falters, letting you tug his arm down. “Got 'em!”
Satoru tries not to focus on that, quickly looking away and rubbing the back of his neck, the last thing he needs to do is let his gaze linger longer than it should. “You really almost killed me, I’m driving back.”
“That’s fine, eight hours sucked anyway,” you stretch just a bit, and so does he, turning and avoiding how your shirt lifts just a bit. “Are you ready for this?”
You walk up next to him, he’s snatched up your bags on one shoulder, you hold his other hand, feeling it tense in your grip. He pauses, looking down at you then, gripping your hand just a little tighter, memories flashing of all the times he’d snatched your hand and run out of class when you were younger. Why does it feel so different now that you’re both older?
“Make it look real, remember? I have the merch all picked out,” you wave your phone around just a bit, earning him squeezing your hands just a bit. “There you go, we got this yeah?”
“Yeah…” You both walk up and are greeted with your very surprised parents, the house just full of your entire family, all bustling and fussing over your sister and all the planning. “Hey there.”
“Satoru Gojo!” Your mom tugs him in for a hug, your dad snatches the bags and sets them down in the living room. “Look at you, you’re taller!?”
“I know,” he laughs a bit, slipping up his black shades to rest on those snowy locks, while your dad hugs him too. “Hey pops. Ah, hey sis.”
Your sister comes out, hugging you tightly, then peeking over at Satoru. “Gojo, you finally admitted you’re in love huh?”
“What!?” He pulls back, your dad and mom are laughing behind their hands, and you mouth to Satoru silently.
Remember!?
Digimon!
“Oh, hah – yeah I guess we really have been in love,” he snatches you up, arm wrapping around your shoulders, smacking a kiss on your cheek. He feels it warm under his lips quickly, the little breath catching in his ears. “Aren’t we, pookie?”
Pookie, huh?
You wanna laugh at that, but you instead put a hand on his chest and tiptoe, giving him a kiss on his chin. You wonder if you’re imagining the blush that decorates his cheeks for just a moment, but it’s distracted by all the commotion.
“You’re finally dating someone!”
“Mom!?”
“I’m just so happy baby,” you want to fall into a hole, as aunts, uncles and cousins all come to just express their surprise. Satoru’s snickering so you decide to ‘accidentally’ stomp his foot, earning your six foot four friend hopping one one foot.
“Oops, sorry baby.” Satoru’s so gonna get revenge later on you, with your bratty little smile.
“It’s fine, sweet sugar bear!” You almost snort out loud, he smacks a kiss on your cheek and damn near slobbers on you.
It’s a flurry of action while everyone sinks their teeth into Satoru and you, all nosy and curious, many of them making comments like you’re an old maid when you’re still young. Your family is a little too traditional, and they’re all in love with Satoru so much you’re damn near ignored, he eats up the attention like he always does at these sort of things.
You can’t say anything about it, Satoru’s parents have been so distant his entire life, you actually love that your family is so close to him.
“Do you wanna freshen up before dinner?” Your mom asks, you nod gratefully. “Perfect, we set up a room for you two.”
“Um… one room?” You ask, seeing Satoru chuckling, slinging an arm around your neck.
“Show us the room, mama.”
“Of course Toru!” You roll your eyes a bit, no one loves Satoru as much as your mom does – aside from you.
But you can’t admit that.
A part of you starts enjoying just how easy it would be to make this a part of your life, at least this aspect, your family, and likely all of your friends. Yet you know fully that it’s a bit of a show, yet it makes your mind drift off – imagining too much, so much so you almost bump right into his back when you all come to a stop in front of the stairs.
“Oof!”
“Clumsy,” he teases, catching you before you tumble back with ease, one arm shooting up and wrapping around you. “Clumsy little pookiekins.”
Oh jesus.
Does he have to feel this good?
Your mom leads you up the stairs, their new house is still a little unfamiliar, you’ve only been there a couple of times since they moved. It’s a pretty room you’ve slept in before when you stayed, cream colored walls and perfectly clean, even the little throw pillows are all arranged. “Do you need extra pillows, Satoru?”
“No, that’s perfect, I appreciate it.” Your mom doesn’t ask you if you need anything, but then she’s always loved Satoru – you joke that it’s more than she loves you all the time.
“The shower is right in there,” she points to where the room connects to a little bathroom. “Get washed up for dinner, I’m ordering your favorite Satoru.”
“Um, hi? What about me?” Satoru is snorting practically.
“Honey, you know I’m just excited, I haven’t seen Satoru in a year!”
“I see how it is.” You narrow your eyes, earning your mom kissing you on the cheek.
“I will order your favorite dessert.”
“I’m an afterthought.” She laughs and shuts the door, leaving the two of you alone, Satoru sobering up just a bit as he sits on the bed, you turn and look at him then, suddenly feeling so nervous.
He’d spent plenty of nights on the floor or couch at your childhood home, but not in the same bed, taking it over when he lays down, crossing one ankle over the other. “Nap time.”
“Nap time, huh?” You sigh and scooch his big body over, lying down next to him, yawning just a bit when you snuggle against the pillow. “I’m tired too.”
“Are you?” You nod, eyes fluttering shut, leaving Satoru to study you carefully. “You think they bought it?”
“With ease,” you snuggle a little too close to him, making his heart race in his chest, fingers itching to caress your cheek. You look at him with sleepy eyes, breath right against him, tickling his neck. “They were convinced I had a crush on you when we were younger, sis tortured me about it.”
“Aww, that’s because I’m so pretty,” Satoru bats his long snowy lashes, you snort a bit, whacking him with one of the pillows. “What, not gonna admit it?”
“You’re conceited is what you are,” he smacks you with a pillow hard then, you gasp, getting on your knees and whacking him back. “You’re also the biggest brat to exist.”
“That’s you! Hah, and you’re weak.” Satoru yanks the pillow from your grip, tossing it on the floor and then smacking you with one again. “Can’t win against me, can you?”
“Don’t count me out, ruining my nap!” You hop down on the floor, grabbing it and hitting him right in his pretty face. “I’ll make your face prettier.”
“Swear to god-” You pounce on him, the bed springs creak just a bit, while you smack him again, only for him to yank you down and start tickling you. “Hah, I know all your spots.”
“Stop, stop!” You’re trying to get out of his grip, the tickles on your waist too much, you can’t stop laughing, wriggling until somehow…
You land right on top of him.
Satoru’s laughing softly, before he realizes it, that you’re straddling his lap, thighs pressed on either side, and your heat is against him. You’re still giggling, his fingers pausing then, looking down nervously and swallowing. “What is it, my turn?”
You lean over and begin to run your fingertips teasingly over his lower abdomen, he’s always ticklish there, but he just grips your hands in his hold, not making a sound. You blink a bit in confusion, breathless from the battle – one you both frequently had as kids – until you feel it.
You follow his suddenly intense gaze down, to where he’s pressed against you, hard and thickening by the moment, your breaths come even quicker, hands still in his grip as you feel him. Your eyes both lock then, his dilated in a way you’ve never seen, lips parted just so, and it’s not like he’s ever looked at you.
You should get up, you should move right? Yet you’re stuck there, unable to do more than blink rapidly and open your lips to say something, anything at all, but both of you don’t speak. The silly laughter has quit spilling from your lips, left with hot desire clenching your tummy at the sensation – at just how good Satoru feels against your cunt, aching for more.
You try not to roll your hips, you try not to shift, when he lets go of your wrists, and his hands slide down, across to your hips, an exhale escaping his mouth. You watch his chest rise and fall with his breaths, his fingers curling around the curve of each hip, and you realize you’re soaking wet embarrassingly fast.
“Satoru, I’m sorry…” You shift to move, earning a little moan from his throat, cock leaking pre against his boxers as his cock insistently nudges between your lips, just your panties as a barrier.
“Fuck, don’t… don’t move,” he whispers then, you tense, struggling to just stay still. “You’re making it worse.”
“Making… what worse?” He sighs, leaning up on his elbows, your breaths both mingling together, in a way that makes you question everything.
Could Satoru feel the same?
He doesn’t speak, instead he gently presses you down, watching your eyelashes flutter, your hands gripping his shirt so tightly the material is balling up in your grip. You move your hips just a bit, making him groan again, ever so softly, noses touching, foreheads resting together. You swallow, throat gone dry at what you feel, the nerves, the desire, the worry for ruining the most important relationship you have.
“Toru, um- ah!” You jump when your sister just opens the fucking door, and you fall right off the bed with a thud since Satoru jumps too, like two kids caught.
“We were… talking!?” Satoru covers his bulge with a pillow, and your sister just bursts out laughing, wearing a tiara and a sash that says bride to be.
“Get out!” You throw a pillow at her, knocking her tiara clean off, Satoru would laugh but he’s still throbbing and it fucking hurts.
How would he ‘pretend’ to kiss you!?
“Rude, it’s my wedding you know.”
“Why are you barging in?”
“I wanna see my sis and her pookie,” she’s giggling, while you start shoving her out the door. “Don’t you miss me?”
“Not really, annoying little sisters still suck, even when they get married.” She winks over at Satoru now, laughter still coming out and making you heat up in embarrassment.
“Looks like you two are next, I could feel the tension!”
“Out!” You shove her unceremoniously, resting your back and the door and huffing, you’re far too cute like that, and doing nothing for his situation. Your eyes meet his, before you look down a bit, pushing off the door to stand. “Sorry, she’s as much of a menace as ever.”
“She certainly is,” he teases, smiling a bit at you and feigning ease. “Um… I’m sorry that…”
“No, no it’s cool, um… it’s just a normal reaction for a guy, right?” You’re so clueless you wouldn’t even know. “Aren’t you experienced?”
“Callin’ me a slut?” He raises a brow.
“Not a virgin, is all.”
“You’re… are you…” You blush furiously, this whole thing is more embarrassing every freaking second. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” You sink down and cover your face, Satoru wills his damn cock to fully go down so he can get up, but he’s toxic and thinking of having you first.
Stop that, stop it, go down.
Down boy.
He finally just adjusts it up into his waistband and comes up to you, sitting right on the plush carpet and wrapping an arm around you. “Why be embarrassed, what’s wrong if you’re picky?”
“I’m twenty three, that’s what’s wrong,” you peek at him then, and he just looks too good in that moment, your body still throbbing from sitting on him. “I’m the forty year old virgin.”
“You are not,” he’s snorting in laughter, playfully pulling you close, tilting two fingers under your chin. “I could fix that for you.”
You pause just a moment, lips parted, eyes wide.
“What!?”
“I was kidding,” he lets your chin go, before raising a brow. “Unless?”
“You’re annoying!” He gets shoved away, laughing at himself like he’s just so funny, but all he does is embarrass you more, confuse you more.
What dumb idea was this?
“Do we need to practice kissing too?”
“I’ve kissed, you know.” Why are Satoru’s lips so glossy?
“Plant one on me, rockstar,” he taps his lips with that annoying smirk of his. “Don't want the first to be in front of them, what if they know?”
“Oh fine, you brat,” Satoru smooches his lips all dramatically, when you get on your knees, hands on his shoulders. “Pucker up then.”
“I'm scared!?” You both laugh then, you've always been so comfortable with each other, until your lips land on his.
You both pull back, his hand slipping up your back. Your lips tingle, this little shock you can't explain, looking down at glossy lips. “There, I kissed you.”
“You did, a little peck. That's all you know?”
“You're an ass,” he chuckles, trying to ease the tension, but you felt too good. “I can kiss.”
“Lemme see, bet I'm better.”
“You always think you're the best at everything,” you roll your eyes, then your little hands are on either side of his face, kissing him deeply. He exhales, tongue slipping against the seam of your lips, you damn near squeak, pulling back quickly with a gasp. “What're you doing?”
“Kissing you,” he captures your lips again, hungry as he pours all of the desire he's had into it, tilting his head to the side to dive deeper. You’re trembling, hands gripping in fists at your sides, struggling to collect yourself. Your tongue moves back against his, lashes fluttering shut, letting him drink up your little sighs.
His hand entangles in your hair, tongue dancing along your teeth, his taste so sweet it’s intoxicating. Slipping closer, a hand on his thigh, letting him overtake you completely, gripping his thigh and clinging for some sense of normalcy. Whatever you’ve imagined this kiss would be like over the years couldn’t have prepared you – your heart hammering, desire clenching your tummy.
He pulls back a bit, just as lost as you it seems, but only a moment – then it’s a little smirk and a raised brow. “Mmm. That's how you kiss.”
“Not in front of people you don't,” you stare up at him, dazed, seeing a blush form on his own cheeks. “You wanna have your tongue in my throat in front of them?”
“What!? No… I was showing you for… later.”
“Later.”
“Mmm,” he brushes the air next to your cheek before he gets up quickly, clearing his throat. “I need um… a shower.”
“Right, go ahead,” he darts to the bathroom, leaving your legs trembling, your lips tingling from him. Just what was that!?
****
“So, when did you two know you were in love?” Satoru almost spits out his drink the same time you do, simultaneously panicking and looking at each other.
“We didn’t figure out a story!” You whisper in his ear, trying to look like you’re being loving, a hand on his thigh driving him to insanity.
“Well, she confessed her love to me,” you scowl, Satoru holds your hand with a devious grin, keeping it on a well muscled thigh that’s fucking your sense. “She told me she’d loved me since… let’s see, kindergarten!”
“Called that,” your sister says, snuggling up to her fiance while she sips on champagne. “She said you were - the cutest boy she ever- hey!?”
“That’s quite enough,” you mumble, launching a little garlic knot at her head, Satoru’s snickering and it’s hard to pretend you don’t wanna punch him. “So yeah, kindergarten, but he’s the one who confessed first.”
“I did?” You stomp his foot, he hisses and scowls. “Oh yeah, I did… I told her I love how mean she is.”
“That’s an odd love confession,” your mom says, looking between you both with an amused expression. Satoru kicks you back under the table and you yelp. “Are you two… good?”
“So good mom! Aren’t we Toru?” You nuzzle his cheek but that little act makes his heart race, his stomach tense from just how good it feels. “Answer.”
Your whisper reminds him of the goal here, he smiles and turns then, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, and the two of you freeze. You’d practiced in the room, he was curious if it was the nerves of the first time together, but nothing felt like that, like the sweetness of your lips under his, eyes looking right at him in shock when he wraps an arm around you.
“Aw!” They’re all cooing over you both, Satoru pulls back and you both fail to compose yourselves for just a moment, before Satoru grins.
“We are good, aren’t we pookie?” He murmurs, you shake yourself out of it, remembering what you’re doing here.
“Yes, for sure. When is the rehearsal dinner?” You ask, looking at your sister now, who launches a garlic knot back at you. “Hey!”
“You started it,” you both stick your tongues out at each other. Satoru snatches the flung knot and pops it in his mouth, sighing.
“Yummy.”
You giggle at that, but he licks the buttery garlic off his lips and fucks up your head instead. You’re trembling just a bit at his tongue rushing across his lips, yeah it affected you before – you’ve had it bad for Satoru for a long time, but now it was even worse than before.
“Want a bite, little shnookums?” Satoru teases, forking the spaghetti and swirling it around. You go to say no when he raises his brows.
“Oh, of course pookiekins!” He snorts just a bit in laughter, but when your lips wrap it and you take it in your mouth?
Fuck.
You have just a little sauce on the corner of your lips – Satoru wipes it without thinking, making your eyes dart up to his contact. “You’re messy, sugar shnookums.”
“Thank you, pookie bear.” You murmur teasingly, ignoring how good his fingers feel on your face.
“Oh you two are disgustingly in love,” your sister makes a face, Satoru just feeds you another fork full. “When are you gonna pop the question?”
“It’s new!?” You say in between bites – at this point Satoru is feeding you. Your aunt and uncle start going on and on about how much they love him – who doesn’t love Satoru?
The plan is working perfectly, they aren’t bothering you about dating someone, and they buy the friends to lovers story easily. Overall, it’s already a big success, which Satoru can’t help but gloat about when you step into the room, wearing your pajamas, which are just a shirt of Satoru’s you stole and a little pair of shorts.
He pauses as you step out of that bathroom, running a brush through your hair, the lights soft from behind you, making your skin look that much prettier, every inch revealed where that shirt hits mid thigh glowing. Your nipples are pressed against the thin, soft material, he struggles to rip his eyes off them.
You can’t get your eyes off him either, just wearing a pair of sweats with little digimon all over them and nothing else - chest bare. You’re used to that, his chiseled frame and narrow torso, however right now it makes you press your thighs together just a bit, tension so thick in the air it’s hard to even breathe.
Act normal.
This isn’t real.
“You stole my shirt?” He breaks that silence, raising a thin brow at you, you manage an eye roll, heading over to the bed and lifting the cover.
“Of course I did,” it makes you feel close to him, god it smells like him. “I love your bougie ass shirts, so comfy.”
“Tch,” you giggle, looking far too cute when you snuggle, and Satoru hesitates just a bit. “You want me to sleep on the ground?”
“No, no that’d be so rude, we can share right?” He eyes the bed again, sighing at how narrow it is.
He’d be pressed against you if he turned one wrong way.
Satoru slips in under the blankets next to you, laying on his back, studying your face carefully before flicking off the lamp on the bedside. “Think they bought it?”
You look at him, yawning a bit. “I do, pookiekins.”
Satoru snorts in laughter, ruffling your hair annoyingly, you smack at his hand and sit up a bit. “What’s the plan when you have to tell them the truth?”
You frown a bit then, brows drawing together. “I haven’t thought that far, I hope it won’t hurt them…”
“Can’t pretend forever, y’know,” you nod a bit, turning back to your side now, ass damn near touching him, making his heart thrum in his chest. “We can just tell them we’d rather stay friends?”
“We could,” your fingers trace the sheets in front of you, contemplative while the soft cotton runs under your fingers. “Don’t worry I won’t make you keep doing this or anything, I know it’s already annoying.”
“It’s…” not annoying. “I actually…” love this too much. “It’s not a big deal, you’d do the same for me.”
You look back with a pretty little smile – almost a sad one, making him contemplate that expression far too much. “Of course I’d be your fake girlfriend.”
“Aww, we’re bonding,” he rests on his side, grinning at you, making something in your heart flip before you turn back around. “What if I kick you off the bed by accident?”
“Psh, wouldn’t be an accident, you’re evil,” Satoru chuckles, feigning an ease he no longer feels, when your shoulders gently move up and down, falling asleep quickly. “Night Toru.”
“G’night…”
He slips the covers over your shoulders as you fade out.
One bed.
You’re both sleeping in the same bed.
Satoru can inhale your scent, feel the heat of your body when you're so close, hear your light little snore, and everything in him aches to tug you closer, to feel you against him. How would it feel to hold you in his arms? It’s like you belong there, truly, he can’t imagine how you’re not then, how he restraints himself.
Life moved on for you both, once inseparable, but you both always made time for each other, whereas when he’s had break ups, it was done for good. Satoru can’t risk losing you just because he can’t hold back anymore, he has to remember you just wanted to get your parents off your back, and that the kisses were just for show.
Everything changed when your lips met.
His fingers hover just a couple inches away from where the blanket covers your skin, tracing the curve of your hip, where he'd love to tug you against him, wrap his arm, before he lets it fall and turns to face the other side.
It's impossible to fall asleep next to you and not hold you.
*****
You wake up with Satoru Gojo’s heavy arm and thigh wrapped around you like a monkey, trapping you down with his heavy weight. You wriggle just a bit, blinking sleep out of your eyes while soft light filters in through the slots of the blinds.
Turning, you see his Adam's apple, his chin, pulling back to look up at him, far too pretty to exist. His snowy lashes are long and lush, the sharp plane of his jaw illuminated by the sun, his plump lips just the tiniest bit parted. He shifts just a bit when you try to disentangle yourself, a hand pressing on your lower tummy and tugging you against him.
That’s then his thigh comes between yours, and the hard muscles press against your cunt, you gasp and wriggle again, only enhancing how fucking good he feels. Satoru murmurs your name softly, you worry he’s awake - but he’s still knocked out, while you’re drooling down his bare skin.
Fuck.
You push at his big ass arms, ignoring how good those biceps feel underneath your fingertips, but Satoru just increases how tightly he’s squeezing you, burying his face against your neck like you’re a body pillow. You’d laugh if you weren’t stupidly wet against your best friend in the world.
“Satoru, wake up,” you manage to murmur, despite him squeezing you so tightly you can’t breathe damn near. You take several breaths, shutting your eyes and trying to ignore how good it feels here. This was your idea – to fake date, to put yourself in a position like this, acting as if your feelings were gone.
They’re clearly more prevalent than ever.
He shifts once more, his scent enwrapping you just like his long limbs do, steady thrum of his heart and his deep breaths against your back moving ever so slowly, pressing his thigh higher. At this point it feels so good you can’t help but flutter your eyes shut, just stuck with him, biting your lip to try to hold back a filthy little moan when your slit drags against him.
Fuck, stop moving!
“Hmm,” he’s humming in his sleep, hand slipping up now until one grips your breast. “So soft.”
“Satoru!” You smack at his hand, hissing damn near when he squishes it in his grip, just making you wetter. “Get off!”
Satoru finally stirs away, realizing just how compromised your position was, blinking sleep out of his eyes and leaning up, feeling your soft breast in his hand, your heat against his thigh. He’s already throbbing just waking up, but then he feels you dripping against him? He sucks in a breath, frozen behind you, hand no longer gripping but not moving.
“Shit,” he grumbles, pulling his hand off reluctantly, ignoring the fact that your nipple grazed his palm like it did. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’re suffocating me,” you shove his arm off you, but his leg stays, and you heat up when you realize how wet you got, embarrassingly so and there was no denying it. “I um… you’re… it’s…”
“Natural,” he murmurs softly, sleep making his voice raspy, making the situation a million times worse between your thighs. “I must have just wrapped around you, I usually hug like three pillows.”
“Yeah,” you can’t say anything else, his hand hovers over your hip, not touching but sitting there. He pulls back a bit, eliciting a whimper from your throat before you can stop yourself, covering your mouth and shutting your eyes. “Let the earth fucking swallow me now.”
He laughs just a bit, hand finally settling on your thigh, pressing it up against his hard muscles again, pressing right up between your folds. You look back at him with a glare, his smirk widening. “Need some help?”
“I swear I’ll beat you,” your lashes flutter when he moves again. “I didn’t make fun of you yesterday.”
“You were wet then too,” you glare now, just looking far too pretty. “Do you need me to take care of you?”
“Take care of… you’re Satoru and… fuck stop that!” You’re whining out again, slamming a hand on your mouth again, when his hand drags you on your thigh. “This is mortifying.”
“Been a while?” He’s acting like he’s not dying, leaking so much pre his shorts are stuck to him, an easy grin on his face.
“You’re a dick,” you sigh, burying your face in your hand now. “Your fake boyfriend skills do not need to extend to this.”
“I see, you don’t need any help at all,” he brushes his thigh up again, pushing down on your hip so you’re grinding on him now, you’re trembling, wanting to punch him as much as you want to hump his leg. “You could use me while I’m here.”
“Use you?” You look back at him, shifting your hips and watching his pupils widen, the only sign he’s affected at all.
“Mmm, could be a perk of the fake dating.”
“Fake orgasms?” You tease, then he leans low, lips almost brushing yours. Your heart hammers in your chest, you know he’s teasing you, but it’s impossible to maintain any calm right now.
“No, they’d be very real,” Satoru’s fingers slip up a bare thigh under the blanket that’s all askew and half kicked off, keeping that smirk on even though if he touches your pussy he’ll probably just cum. “I can show you how and everything, what are friends for?”
“You think I don’t masturbate because I’m a virgin?” It’s his turn to barely be able to form a sentence. “Just because no one has gotten me off doesn’t mean I don’t.”
“Ah,” the thought of you touching your pretty pussy is enough to make him bust and leak out all over that ass nestled against him. “So you’re good then, no need for my best friend services?”
“You joke too much!” You turn and shove him, until he flops off the bed, scowling up at you, you just giggle, trying to forget the fact that you humped his leg damn near. “Stop playing.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he stays on the floor, just leaned back on his hands, legs crossed at the ankles, studying you, suddenly quiet.
“What is it?”
Satoru opens his lips, then shuts them, then opens again. “It’s just that… I didn’t agree to this for-”
“Who’s ready for a shopping trip!?” Your sister annoyingly bangs on the door, you roll your eyes and shake your head, getting up and walking over to open it before looking over at Gojo.
“What was it, Toru?” You ask softly, he stands then, looking far too good when you study his muscled back, making you ache in ways you can’t admit.
Satoru was going to tell you he didn’t agree to this for ‘merch’ or just because you two were best friends.
He wants more, he wants this to be real. Fitting in with your family like a glove, feeling loved from you and them, the closeness you two share that leaves a void any time he ever tries to date. What you don’t realize is he has been dying to get the courage to ask you out, but he’s always hit one road block.
Losing this forever.
Best friends can get through anything, but relationships scatter, they fall apart – they drift away, and he can’t imagine not having you near.
“What is it?” You’re smiling curiously, but he just shakes his head.
“It’s nothing,” he pats your head with a sad little smile, making the inner workings of your brain fire off in a myriad of signals. “Better get that.”
“Right,” your sister soon drags you out to shop, bombarding you about Satoru while he relaxes at home with your parents.
“Should we get lingerie?”
“Oh god,” you’re grumbling when you two pass a lingerie store, the mannequins up front wearing the most delicate lace that covers nothing. “No way.”
“Don’t you two…” You’re a flustered mess, your sister’s brows raising. “You’re not fucking yet?”
“Shut up!?” You cover her mouth, embarrassingly looking around to see who is within ear shot, she’s laughing against your palm.
“He must be a gentleman, well I’ll get you the sluttiest-”
“We’re here for you, not me, I already have my dress.”
“I’m the bride,” you roll your eyes at her. “What I say goes. Ooh! That screams - fuck me daddy.”
“I’m so done with you,” you’re laughing though, your sister is anything if not a fucking trip, younger and more experienced, a free bird truly. “Fine, one outfit.”
“Yay!”
*****
“Make a toast!” Everyone is urging you that afternoon at the rehearsal dinner. As the maid of honor you absolutely had to do just that, prepare the first toast.
You look over at Satoru, who’s sipping on champagne while you all sit around the banquet table, his Adam's apple bobs with his swallowing of the bubbly, fruity concoction. You smile at him, earning his little wink that just didn’t feel fake at all, a hand squeezing above your knee gently.
How could you separate what’s for show, what’s friendship, and what could be…
More?
Shaking that off, you focus on the bride and groom to be instead, who are both nuzzling each other’s noses. They’re sickeningly cute, naturally doing the things you and Satoru are pretending to, the longing fills you then and you despise it. You should be happy for her, not envious because you’re scared you’ll ever get that.
Not when Satoru exists.
“I’d like to toast to our soon to be newlyweds. To the two lovebirds, who have shown us all what it means to love someone unconditionally, and who have had the nerve to make it look easy,” your sister gets a little teared up then. “I don’t know how you deal with her crazy ass – but you do it well.”
“Hey!” They’re all laughing a bit, you smile over at her.
“I love you, and I love to see your relationship blossom,” a little more serious again, everyone settles in. “You both make me want that love.”
Satoru’s heart hammers in his chest while he watches you, in that pretty pink dress you’re wearing, the same shade as the blossoms decorated along the white tablecloth. You’re soft like this, usually so feisty and cracking jokes – this is a more serious side of you, the side that’s always pulled him in and intrigued him.
He’s avidly listening to every word that lingers from your lips, lost in how much he wishes they were for him, about him. He puts on a perfunctory laugh when he has to, mingling in with your family, trying to ignore how perfect and easy it all feels, but everything was easy with you, it always had been.
It was terrifying, how easy it was to hold you in his arms.
“How’d I do?” You whisper, leaning close – too close.
He gives you that easy grin, leaning over to press a kiss on your cheek, feeling it warm under his lips. “You did great sugar plum.”
You snort at the nickname, but all you can think is one thing –
You should have taken him up on his offer.
Soon the dance instructor is guiding all of the bridesmaids and groomsmen, along with your sister and her groom, but they of course set their sights right on you and Satoru. You could swear your sister was part demon – how could she at one moment shove you both together, then the other quite literally cockblock, you’ll never know.
“Dance you two,” your sister practically shoves you and Satoru to the wide space in the banquet hall, and the instructor steps up. “They don’t know how to dance, can you give them the basics?”
“Says who!?” You and Satoru demand at the same time, she snickers a bit.
“Says me seeing you two awkwardly shuffle every school dance.” You and Satoru flush then, he clears his throat a bit when the dancer takes his hand.
“One on her waist,” he murmurs, all seductive with some french accent that makes this all the more intimate. “And one on her hand, like this. Ah, so romantic!”
Satoru looks at your entwined fingers for a moment, how his hand swallows yours with his long, thick fingers, before he looks down into your eyes, seeing how dark they’ve gotten. Your heart races so quickly he can feel it when the instructor presses you both close together, his fingers squeezing your waist just a bit, feeling your skin burning underneath your dress.
“Ah, that is young love,” he blinks back tears, you’re so embarrassed then, even emotional when your mom is almost crying. You start to feel terrible for this little game, knowing it will hurt them.
You were so selfish, dragging Satoru in this too, who’s looking at you with those blue eyes that you could never figure out the shade of, holding your hand in his while pressing you against his firm, hard frame. You’re hardly able to form a word or a typical joke you two usually share, not like this, not when you believe this dance instructor’s flowery words.
Love.
You’ve loved Satoru for so long in so many ways, as a friend, as damn near family, as a confidant. Yet the love keeps changing, shifting and just growing with every moment you exist next to him, drinking up every bit of what Satoru Gojo had to offer – which was so much, too much.
Over the years watching him date, you tried your best to remain detached, and he never let your friendship go. You have been a priority to him since you both made friends on that playground back in first grade, he makes you feel so…
Special, seen, heard.
Even when he’s joking, teasing or annoying you, he’s been there to hold you when you cry, to distract you from your low times, whether he helped you study or he just sat there next to you in the quiet. Yet he never crossed the line, never even touched you like he has this week, in your little game that feels too perfect, making you realize that you’ll never have this with someone.
How could you feel this, the length of time you’ve known each other, the comfortability even as you’re physically on edge. The familiarity when he spins you on the floor tentatively, you misstep just a bit, yet he catches you with ease. He always has caught you in your clumsy bouts, usually teasing or making fun, but when his arm wraps your waist?
He’s too stunned to think.
You already look too pretty in that dress, you’re so serious tonight – not the goofy girl he usually spends his days with. That flush that spreads across your cheeks and nose, the lights dancing across your bare skin in that dress, he avoids looking too fucking long at it, at the pretty necklace resting between your collarbones.
He wants to trail his lips across them – then lower, to the pretty breasts he had in his hand this morning, the mere memory almost makes him misstep, narrowly catching himself beforehand. You look up at him as if you’ll say something, the eyes of the entire rehearsal dinner on you, before you look back down at his chest, worrying your lower lip with your teeth.
“Am I a good partner, sugar bear?” He teases, lightening the mood then, you sigh and plaster on a smile and a nod, but it feels fake.
This is fake.
Why are you so absorbed, so lost in the cerulean depths that look down at you, twinkling just a bit with playfulness, yet when they briefly sweep down across your chest, you heat up under their gaze. Satoru spins you as instructed, bringing your back against him, hands joined while you look at each other, ending the dance.
Everyone is clapping, earning the slight embarrassment of the two of you, but it’s worse when your mom pulls you aside, hugging you tightly. “I’m so happy for you, to see you both so in love.”
Ouch.
You’re gonna hurt her.
You’re gonna hurt yourself.
You and Satoru sit through the rest of that dinner with ease, his arm casually thrown over your chair, leaning close to pull off the roll that will be done soon. You don’t want this to end, the way he treats you, looks at you – as if he truly does feel the way he’s merely pretending to.
“Everything all right?” You look at him then, concern on his features. At your little nod his lips press together, eyes narrowing. “No you’re not.”
He knows you too fucking well.
“I’m good, promise!” You put a hand on his thigh and squeeze just a bit, smiling brightly up at him.
He doesn’t buy it of course.
*****
Later that night back at home your family is still enjoying drinks and talking, you two are thoroughly exhausted. Satoru is setting up blankets and pillows on the floor, you guiltily sit in the bed, tugging the covers up to cover your chest and sitting up. It’s probably fucking better he does lay on the floor for your own sanity, yet you can’t stand the thought of not enjoying him in your bed for this short amount of time.
“Satoru, I can take the floor.”
“No way I let you do that,” he looks up at you, shirtless and wearing his pajama pants only, the way that makes you ache. “I clearly in my sleep grab your tits and cling like a monkey.”
“Yes you do,” you laugh a bit, and so does he, self deprecating as always, then a quietness settles in the room. “We could put a pillow between us?”
“I’ll probably still attack,” he’s teasing, eyes glittering with humor. “Should probably keep me on the floor.
You want him in bed.
You want him to ‘help’ you, as he called it just this morning, taunting and teasing you until you almost begged him. Yet you can’t just blurt that out – what part had been kidding, and what was serious? What crossed the line with the two of you anymore, could things just be at some ‘friendship’ level truly? Or would it just ruin everything to have a taste of him?
“Is it because I was so wet?” The word almost makes him whimper, eyeing you with those baby blues gone round.
“Is it… huh!?”
You press your legs together, looking away nervously. “Wet, I was soaking wet on you this morning.”
He swallows then – as if he needed a fucking reminder, as if he didn’t desperately run his finger down his own thigh and lap your juices clean off it the moment he was away. Sucking it so desperately and pathetically it was damn near laughable, just how badly he wanted you.
Why do you have to look so pretty on that damn bed?
“No, no that didn’t bother me at all,” he rubs the back of his neck, cursing the way you make him feel like that nerdy little boy he was the first time he ever tried to kiss you, way back during junior prom. The sweaty palms, the shaky hands, the awkward shifting of his feet. “I promise.”
You exhale, shutting your eyes. “I am making things all so weird.”
“You’re not,” you cover your face then, wincing a little bit at yourself. “Hey, promise you aren’t.”
The bed sinks underneath his weight, Satoru sits next to you – brushing your hair back softly, before grabbing your wrists and lowering your hands, making you meet his gaze. It’s quiet, so quiet you could hear your heartbeat in your ears, the gentle sound of his breathing mingling with your own.
“Your offer to help, is that off the table?” Satoru almost cums at the mere thought of touching you, but he’s so in shock he just stares, mouth wide open, until you feel so embarrassed. “Shit, forget I said that…”
“What do you need help with?” His voice is hoarse, just a bit scratchy, he clears his throat, still holding your hand, thumb brushing across your knuckles.
“Won’t it make it awkward, weird? I don’t want to fuck our friendship up, ever Satoru. It’s important to me.”
He cups your face gently. “Tell me what you want,” his raspy command almost destroys your resolve. “I’ll give you it.
You almost say – ‘fuck me please’ – Almost.
“Some relief you have so graciously offered,” you tease him a little, hand slipping up and down his chest. “I could return it.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He’s staring at your mouth now, picturing it wrapping his cock for a moment, then he pictures busting inside your mouth in one fucking second. He quickly shoves that idea out the window, he damn sure wasn’t gonna waste the moment he’s been waiting for since high school being embarrassed.
Your lips would feel so good. He shakes that off, pushing your back down on the bed and spreading your thighs before you can think. You gasp, his arms on either side of you, silky white locks falling over a brow, so close you feel his heart thrumming against your breasts, feel his heavy weight, touch burning your thighs, fingers pressing in.
“Satoru?” You manage a whisper, his hands slip up under his own shirt you stole, biting back a gasp when he realizes.
“Nothing under this?” You flush, looking down now. “Look at me.”
Fuck.
You just follow what he says when he’s like this, all the years of sweet nerdy best friend Satoru culminate in the man before you – still every bit Satoru Gojo – but this side of him you have never seen. A side you imagined so often, but nothing even prepared you for his fingers gliding up your thighs, causing them to tremble, slick dripping from your cunt from just the proximity.
“I’ll never not be here for you,” he whispers softly, as if sensing your every fear. “If you want to have a little experience with me, I’ll gladly give it and expect nothing in return.”
Your throat goes dry. “But why?”
“Why?” He reveals your cunt then, bare and glistening for his view, failing to control his hands from gripping you so tight you wince, from exhaling at how pretty it is. “Fuck… why what?”
“Why would you?”
“Hah, why would I?” He doesn’t even know where to begin to answer your nonsense.
“You’re looking at it!”
He laughs softly, nodding then, eyes affixed to how pretty your pussy is, touch trailing along your inner thigh, at the apex of it. “You want me to stop?”
“No.”
Your eyes are locked, his fingers grazing little trails up and down smooth skin, until he almost touches your core, teasing but not fully, making you throb with need. “Then tell me what you want me to do.”
“Make me cum – oh my god I just said that! Out loud!?” You cover your mouth and he almost bursts into laughter, even as he’s pressing his cock against the bed for friction, at how cute you are, instead his lips quirk up.
“Shh, want your parents to know I’ve got you spread wide?” His words are too much, the way he says them, the way he moves lower, so low you tug at his hair. “Do you not want that?”
“You’re… down there… and…”
“It’s so pretty.”
You ease a bit at those words, eyes shutting in relief, Satoru sees the tension ease just a bit. “It is?”
“God, yes.”
You swallow nervously, breaths coming in little pants. “We will always be in each other’s lives, this won’t fuck it all up, will it?”
Satoru kisses your thigh then, tongue flicking up to lap up a little of the slick that’s dripped down, a sensual mark of his saliva glittering when he pulls back. “I’d never let you out of my life. You think I’d not be your friend?”
“Just can’t lose you,” you whisper, before moaning softly, the sound so sensual Satoru almost can’t handle it. “I thought you could um… finger me?”
“I can do that too,” he kisses even higher, breathy moans escaping his lips. “But I am very, very fucking good at this.”
“The best at everything, hmm?” You manage to tease, acting like his nose brushing up your folds wasn’t almost enough to end you, your fingers gripping the sheets underneath you.
“I am the best at everything, it’s true,” he smiles all devious and cute, while your hands slip up his shoulders, feeling the muscles tense underneath your touch. “Wouldn’t I be the best friend in the world if you came on my mouth?”
Your own mouth goes dry, your answer lifting and spreading your thighs for him, he inhales your scent still looking at you. “I want you to, please.”
Satoru uses this as the permission to do something he’s been dying to for as long as he’s known what it is – to lick your pussy, the prettiest one, the yummiest one, a stripe straight up your slit. He maintains eye contact, you’re struggling to keep them open, his tongue soaking up the juices that start pouring then, until the tip of his tongue flicks your little clit.
“Ah!” He shushes you with a little shh that tickles you more, your teeth grip your lip, watching your best friend start lapping at your cunt. “Oh my god…”
“Mmm,” Satoru’s tongue is filthy as it runs up and down your slit, collecting every drop like it’s precious – and it is to him. The taste of you on his thigh hadn’t come close to this, to just how sweet you were going down his throat. He eyes you, parting your folds, watching your face screw up in pleasure, brows drawing together.
Best friends just don’t eat pussy like this.
He’s fucking you with that tongue, nose bumping your clit that’s aching for more, twitching in response, and you know this is so dumb, you know there’s no coming back from having those blue eyes look at you like that. Signing your death sentence – your cat lady sentence – with three more flicks, until the wet muscle is gripped by your gummy walls.
“Satoru,” you’re whispering out his name, struggling to hold back all the moans that threaten, instead releasing them in little shaky spurts under your breath. Your core is tightening with every fuck of his tongue, gasps escaping your lips when he shoves your thighs up, smiling down at you for a moment.
“Hold ‘em up f’me.”
You’re so exposed, holding your thighs as he orders, opening up even more for him, he moans at the sight, pressing messy kisses to your clit now, over and over in little circles, causing your hips to jerk. He smacks your cunt, looking down at you under those snowy lashes, lips coated in your gloss.
“Stay still,” he swirls two fingers in that arousal that’s pouring, running them up and down your slit ever so slowly, inching them and stretching you out. “Fuck, you’re so tight…”
“Mnh…” You are gripping him too much, he eases his fingers out with a wet sound that echoes, spreading you wide again and spitting right on your cunt, using that to sink his fingers back in.
“Better?” He murmurs, you nod quickly, eyes rolling back in your skull. Fingers pressing up on that soft spot over and over, earning your weak little mewl as a response, he smirks down at you. “That’s a yes, I take it.”
You nod again, words escape you, how can you talk when he’s flicking his tongue over your clit and moaning against your skin?
He’s so focused, so intense, his blue eyes never leaving yours, even as his mouth works you over with a hunger you never knew he had, one he’s just held back. You’re mad anyone ever got this. Stupid thoughts, selfish and greedy, your fingers now entangling and tugging at his hair, just making his moans vibrate on your little clit again, sending jolts of pleasure up your body.
Satoru’s thick fingers slide in and out with greater ease despite how fucking long they are, curling inside you, pressing that spot that makes you want to scream out – barely muffling it with teeth that are sinking into your lower lip. His tongue is relentless, swirling around your clit, then flattening to give it a firm lick that almost undoes you completely.
“Taste so good, fuck,” he whispers then he fucking just dives back down.
The ecstasy makes you weak while the pressure builds, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, your thighs start to tremble while you hold them up and he adds a third finger, stretching you even more, filling you up until you can’t take it anymore. You arch your back, your hands tightening their grip on your thighs as you open more for him, gasping out.
“You’re close, huh sweetheart?” The way that word feels, the way he’s watching you, fingers still pumping in and out.
“Please, Toru,” Satoru almost cums at that little plea, so sweet and pliant, holding your thighs up like a good girl. He presses a kiss on one of them, rutting his cock against the mattress for any pressure.
“Mmm, then cum for me.”
Like some obeyed command it hits, your pussy clamps down on his fingers, pulsing around them as you ride it out, screaming into your palm, white hot stars behind your eyelids. You’re barely able to contain those pornographic little moans, so sensitive you’re jerking when he pulls those fingers out.
He doesn’t stop, though, continuing to lick and suck you hungrily, desperately, drawing out every last bit of your climax until you’re a writhing mess, twitching underneath him, clinging to his hair to pull him off. Satoru’s so drunk off your taste, your scent - you.
He almost can’t unlatch his mouth until he realizes how overstimulated you are, your aftershocks die down but he slips a finger back in just to feel you pulse, moaning softly before he finally slips it back out, plush lips giving your clit one last gentle kiss before sitting back and sliding up.
“So, how amazing am I, hmm?” He drags out those words, chin coated in your slick, you swipe some of it off just for him to nip at your thumb.
“Fuck… you are amazing at it,” you earn his dopey grin, he licks the rest of you off his lips, making you flush. “Don’t get so cocky.”
“I knew you’d admit it,” he eases your shirt down, your fingers trail across his abdomen, watching the muscles tense, tentatively touching him. He grips your wrist then, shaking his head. “You don’t have to do all that.”
“Don’t you want me to?” You ask curiously, his gaze zones in on your mouth again, picturing just brushing his tip on it and cumming.
“In what world wouldn’t I? But I don’t want to overwhelm you, you’re a cute little virgin you know,” he taps your nose, chuckling at your glare. “Pussy is perfect, in case you ever worry.”
“Oh,” you snuggle up to him while he wraps an arm around you. “Thank you, that was insane…”
“I’m at your service.”
“More figures incoming.”
He chuckles, hugging you tightly, you feel so good in his embrace, as you both feign an ease you don’t feel. “Are you all right with what happened?”
“Yes, very,” you look back and smile sleepily. “Are you?”
“Mmhmm,” he can’t very well say he’d die to be inside you, he doesn’t want to push this too far, unsure of where you all stand. “I’ll miss this weekend.”
It’s quiet, save for your breaths.
You shift a bit, hand running up and down his veiny forearm, tracing a few of them, hearing the hitch in his rhythm. “I’ll miss it too.”
Satoru just holds you tightly, inhaling your scent in his lungs and sighing. “Are you excited for the wedding?”
“Very, they’re so happy, you know?” You yawn a bit, it’s too comfy here, so comfy you wonder if you’ll ever sleep good again, knowing he’s here.
“They are,” he leaves it quiet, scared and unsure what to say, aside from murmuring - “Good night.”
“Night, Toru.”
Satoru can hardly sleep, remembering the way you felt underneath him, it takes a while to let himself drift, when he knows that he won’t get you in his arms again, and he just wants to savor every moment. You’re lightly snoring, turning to face him, slinging an arm around his waist, your cheek against his chest.
He just holds you close, studying a face too precious, wishing he wasn’t so afraid to just admit what he feels.
*****
You woke up in Satoru’s arms again this morning, and it felt far, far too good to be there.
You’re not even sure where you stand with him, exactly what last night was for you both, but you know it wasn’t normal to feel that way. It went beyond any pleasure or skill, the way you fucking felt when that man looked at you was inexplicable. Not just a product of beautiful eyes, no there was something in the way you felt last night that’s lingering.
You heat up with the memory even now, you’re both at your sister’s reception – the game is almost over, the show is almost done. You’re struggling to keep it together when you watch your sister dance with your dad, when you watch your new brother in law dance with your mom, then with each other.
Love.
You love your best friend, Satoru Gojo, and you knew going into this how bad it would hurt, yet you set yourself up like a glutton for punishment. This morning he’d smiled so sweet, teasing you and joking before you all were basically summoned with the sheer insane amount of things that had to be done before this wedding began.
It was too perfect being held by him, as much as you loved him licking you, you loved him holding you, grinning against your skin. He was in full ‘fake boyfriend’ mode, full best friend mode, just being Satoru Gojo, the boy you’ve always known. Yet now there was more shared between you both, more than you can even comprehend and it fucking scares you.
A boy from your childhood strikes up a conversation while many of your old friends go talk to Gojo, a part of growing up together meant you both knew almost everyone here. The boy asks you to dance, holding out his hand then, you hesitate though, looking over at Gojo, who’s watching you while he sips on his drink.
What were you two?
You’re overthinking it, maybe it was just fun for him, maybe it was curiosity that had him worshipping you like that. You eye his glossy lips across the elegant ballroom, him in this sleek black suit looking far too handsome, so handsome he takes your fucking breath away.
You can’t do this.
You can’t stand to see a girl’s hand on his shoulder, something you’ve seen plenty of times before, but now it was different. Now it didn’t feel okay, it didn’t feel right, and you know it’s foolish. You smile and let the boy lead you out, trying to remember that this was all ending tomorrow night, and would just be a memory.
Satoru can’t stand to see you in someone’s arms.
He almost crushes the glass in his hand before he sets it down, catching your gaze when the boy is stumbling damn near, probably due to how pretty you are. And god you’re beautiful under these lights, glimmering off your hair that’s all done up, the dress molding to your body in soft, shimmery satin, making him want to fucking rip it off you then and there.
Last night meant too much – was it just experimental for you, just that you trusted him to be your first in that way, comfortability? He was overthinking it, he knows that when he is dancing right across from you, hand on a waist he doesn’t want, other hand entwined with a hand that’s not yours.
It fucking hurts.
He got a taste of what could be his, and he’ll play it off like it’s fine, like you two are just the best friends in the world and he wasn’t hopelessly in love.
You look up at your sister dancing, she’s getting bent over her new husband’s arm, giggling and waving at you. You smile at her, wanting to feel more joy and not this envy, before your eyes lock back to Gojo’s seeing him spin her in his arms. You don’t expect it to hurt like it does in that moment, to see his arm around someone else’s waist.
He’s looking at you over her shoulder, blue eyes lowering just a bit.
Your heart shatters.
Your mom comes up to you, smiling and cupping your face then, “I feel soon we will be planning your wedding.”
You pause, mouth opening then shutting, tears burning the back of your eyes, when you realize you’ll have to hurt her. You’ll have to hurt them all, because you’re so fucking selfish, and mostly you’ve hurt yourself. Getting a taste of what it would mean to have the boy you’ve loved for as long as you can remember, being greedy with all of those tastes.
Satoru would move on from this, live his life, but you’re not sure you can, how do you get over him, over his touches, his kisses? How he held you, how he looked down into your eyes? Even now, he’s watching you, like he’d rather dance with you in his arms – utter nonsense in your fucking head.
You’re mistaking it all.
“Honey, are you crying?” Your mom frowns, brushing her fingers up and down your cheek, and you realize you are.
“The wedding, it got me so emotional, um…” You’re lying through your fucking teeth right now. “Can I have some air?”
“Of course,” she looks at you concerned when you run out. Satoru excuses himself and rushes to her curiously. “I think this wedding is making her a little emotional, Satoru.”
“Yeah, I’ll go check on her, okay?” He touches her shoulder affectionately, she nods and he rushes out, seeing it’s drizzling out – looking at your retreating form in that frilly pink dress just standing against the lit gazebo, head resting on one of the wooden pillars. “You’re gonna get sick out here, it’s gonna downpour soon.”
“I’m fine,” your voice is weak and hoarse, and Satoru swallows down the pain he feels when you look at him. “Go have fun, this is almost over, you don’t have to ruin opportunities.”
“Ruin what now?” His teeth clench together, the rain spattering gently over the two of you, dripping down his hair as it pummels you. “You danced with someone too.”
“Yeah, I did, that’s what we should do. Right?” Satoru’s hands come to grip your shoulders, chilled from the night air, the lights from the gazebo dancing across your skin.
“Is it what we should do? Is it what you want?”
“It’s what you want.”
“You don’t even know what I want,” he presses your back against that wood pillar now, a hand against it braced, taking the pummeling rain on his dress coat to protect you, making you cry even more. “Was last night the only time?”
“Was it… you want to do it again?” You’re heated up, looking down shyly. “I thought you regretted it.”
“Regretted? Hah,” Satoru tilts your chin up now, making your eyes meet his, brushing a thumb over your lip. “All I regretted last night was not sinking my cock inside you.”
“Satoru…” You blink tears down your cheeks, a hand coming to his chest, he takes it and holds it close, while your body responds. “But it means too much, I can’t just do that as a… friend.”
“So be more,” he lifts you before you can blink, holding you with one arm around your hips like it’s nothing, carrying you up those steps. “And stop getting soaked, unless it’s from me touching you.”
“Fuck,” you grip his face, kissing him deeply, he sets you down, walking you back until the backs of your legs brush against the bench. “Toru…”
“I love you, okay?” Satoru’s voice is muffled by the pounding rain on the gazebo that shelters you both, droplets of water slipping down his skin, you’re sobbing then, so overwhelmed. “I have loved you.”
“I love you, so fucking much, it’s why I’ve never…” You trail off, he’s leaning down and cupping your face, studying you with eyes glassy with emotion. “There is no one for me when you exist.”
He kisses you deeply at that, you shiver as he slips your straps down, eyeing the pretty white lace and exhaling. “You’re wearing that underneath this?”
You say nothing, speechless as Satoru tugs your sopping wet dress down your chest, pulling out a pretty tit and moaning. You gasp out when he sits down, pulling you to straddle him, sucking one nipple hungrily in his mouth. Hands entangle in damp white locks, heat building, that heat that’s pressed against his thick cock, pressing so insistently.
“Wanna bury myself inside you,” he murmurs, looking drunk off you, sucking on the other nipple, his hands slipping across your hips. “I want her to know my shape only.”
“Satoru,” you kiss him again, he’s hastily slipping that dress up over your hips, sinking two fingers in with ease. “Ah!”
“Soaked,” he whispers in wonder, curling them up and looking up at you the way only he does. “Stop me before I fuck you the first time in this gazebo.”
“I don’t want to stop,” your whisper is met with a sharp whine, fingers curling in your messy hole. “Want more.”
“Want me to eat you out again?” He whispers, pumping those fingers while you hastily undo his zipper. “Fuck, you need more prep, don’t pull him out, I’ll fucking shove it so deep.”
“Good, do it,” he’s whimpering when you touch him, stroking your hand up and down, finding that pre and swirling your finger. “He’s so pretty.”
“Don’t praise me too,” he huffs, you manage a little giggle, and in that moment – you all are still best friends, every bit of the comfortability – but there’s more. So much more. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“You would never,” he pulls out his fingers, sucking them and moaning out at your taste, before kissing you again.
“You wanna take me?”
You’re a flustered mess now, overheated and damp from the rain, chest rising and falling while lightning flashes all around you both. “The first time?”
“I’ll help you,” he grips his cock at the base, running that velvety tip against your soaking wet cunt, moaning. “You can take as much as you want of me this way, I won’t hurt you.”
You’re emotional again, how much he cares. You’re kissing him while tears fall, rocking against his tip while he whispers your name. “Ah!”
You’re barely taking the tip, stretching your cunt out so good, the burn something you’ve never felt. You pull back to look down at him, his hands are gripping your hips under your dress, thumbs pressing into your pelvis, the sweet ache and pressure building, he eases you up a bit, then down, sucking in a few inches of him, your head falls back, scream echoing quietly in the rain.
“You all right, sweetheart?” He kisses up your collarbone, cock wrapped by your tiny little cunt, already milking him.
“Need help getting… it in…” He exhales, lifting you again, pressing the tip back in, then further, this time it burns less – but the pressure. “So much… too much…”
“Relax baby,” he’s calling you baby. You blink rapidly, letting him guide you up again. “Sit down on it, take what’s yours.”
Your hands grip his shoulders, fingers grabbing the soaking wet material of his jacket, eyes locked while you take more, his gaze lidded and dilated. “That’s it, look how fucking pretty you are.”
You feel so pretty, working up and down again, whining out at how full you are, how deep he’s getting, cunt leaking more and more arousal to accomodate. You feel him everywhere, so deep in your tummy, he’s kissing your chest, your throat, lapping up the rain from your skin, whining out softly under his breath when you roll your hips.
“Is that good? I…”
“It’s perfect, god,” he guides you again, his lashes fluttering shut at the ecstasy of your cunt rocking up and down. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart.”
“Mnh!” You’re taking more, easier every time, your thighs tensing with each thrust, taking more and more until you bottom out, screaming.
“Fuck,” he rests his forehead on yours, hands slipping to grip your ass, a cheek in each of his big hands. “Can’t hold back.”
“Don’t.”
Satoru moans, kissing you again, pulling you towards his chest and leaning back on that bench, starting to fuck up into you now, slamming your cervix. He’s whispering your name while he’s got you stuffed, stretched out on his thick length, he’s just as lost in it as you are, whining out right with you against your lips. Hands pressing in bruisingly while he drags you down.
“Using you like my pretty toy, you like that baby?” He’s completely done for when your eyes get wide, lips parted while you whisper a little yes. “Feel her stretching out?”
“Y-yes,” you gasp again when Satoru slams you down hard. “Toru!”
“Hold on t’me,” you do just that, clinging to Satoru when he flips you to your back on the plush cushion of the bench, tie hovering over your skin so silky. You tug it, bringing his lips to yours. He lifts a leg, sinking back inside you, you’re taking me easier and easier, messy cunt opening for him. “Want you to cum, can you sweetheart?”
Your nod is his answer, he exhales, already close with how tight you are, trying to hold out so you can chase that high, because he wants to see it, wants to feel it. Satoru shoves in deep, rolling his hips just so, when the pressure is too much, fucking unbearable. You shatter underneath him, pleasure rolling over your body even more intense than his mouth had given you.
Violently shaking, you’re drunk off him like he is off you, kisses and mumbles, while his cock works you, wrecks you with every stroke, slower and more calculated, letting you ride that orgasm out. And fuck you’re beautiful underneath him, damp hair splayed, lashes casting shadows on your cheeks, exposed breasts all littlered with marks from him.
“You’re so pretty like this,” he whispers, kissing you again, softer strokes slowing down and feeling those aftershocks grip his cock. “Mnh, baby m’close.”
“Cum inside me,” he needs no further fucking invitation, Satoru does just that, whining out your name against your ear when he buries his face against your neck, shoving in deep. “Ngh!”
Cum coats those slick walls in white, so hot and so much, you can feel him pulsing and thickening, pouring more cum deep. You try to catch a breath, but his leaky cock and the warmth spilling from your sensitive cunt have to cumming again, a little smaller but more sensitive, gripping him tightly.
Satoru eases back, your name on his lips, running his fingertips across your cheek and sighing, cock still snug inside you. “I never pictured this, in all the ways I’ve imagined taking you over the years.”
“Oh, how many ways?” You tease, hand entangling in his damp locks, while he presses kisses along your jaw.
“I’ll show you them all on one condition,” you blink now, a little sleepy, the rain slowly dying down. “You’re not my ‘fake girlfriend’ anymore.”
“Real?”
“Real,” you blink back tears, kissing Satoru again, when he pulls out of you and moans at the loss, sighing and studying you. “I still want that merch though.”
“You’re such a jerk!” You shove at him, he’s laughing and the sound melts your heart, the boy you’ve always loved resting on top of you, soothing kisses like little apologies. “Fine, I’ll get you anything you want.”
“Right now, I just want to kiss you some more.” He does just that, and soon your ‘fake boyfriend’ becomes entirely real.
Thank the 25k of you SO MUCH again for always hyping my ass up and motivating me to put these out :') I rly love yall and hope you enjoyed this fluff hehe <3
satoru absolutely baby talks you when you’re sick.
not in a mocking way. no. this is full-blown softie satoru, disgusting levels of wife guy activated, baby voice on max, coddling you like you’re the most precious, fragile little thing in the universe—and not because he thinks you’re weak, but because it’s the one time you let him get away with it without putting up your usual walls.
because you’re sick. hot forehead, flushed cheeks, big watery eyes that blink up at him like you’re seeing god—or worse, like you might actually cry if he leaves the room. like you need him. and honestly? that does something to him. wrecks him, even.
and you do need him. you’re fevered, shivering, curled up in bed in one of his oversized shirts, your hair a mess, nose stuffy, brain thoroughly fried. your fingers twitch like you want to reach for him but can’t be bothered to try, lips parted in a weak sigh as you breathe through your mouth. your usual bratty, mouthy, too-proud-for-help self? gone. obliterated. absolutely bulldozed by the flu. all that’s left is a miserable little lump of a wife who clings to his sleeve like a koala and mumbles, “’toru… i feel like a soggy towel…”
his whole body stills. there’s a twitch in his brow, like his heart has physically clenched. his lips part, just a little, before curling up in the softest grin. eyes soften behind pale lashes—just a hint of red at the corners from how tired he is too—but none of that matters. not when you’re looking up at him like that. the corner of his mouth tugs upward, not in amusement—but in something far gentler. reverent, even. and then god. he melts. instantly. his heart shatters into a million pieces and reforms just to explode again.
“awww, my poor widdle baby,” he coos, already pressing a kiss to your damp forehead. his breath is warm, his nose brushing yours. “does my soggy towel need her soup? wanna be spoon-fed by the hottest nurse in the world?”
you don’t even roll your eyes. you nod. actually nod. sluggish, dazed. and then flop into his arms like dead weight, forehead nudging his neck, skin hot against his collarbone. you let him hold you like you’re made of glass.
he almost cries. really. because you’re letting yourself be coddled. cuddled. taken care of. no sass. no biting remarks. just tiny, pitiful sniffles and pouty faces and your arms wrapping around his waist like he’s your anchor. like you don’t want him to go anywhere. like you can’t function without him.
and satoru eats that up like it’s a feast.
“you want juice, angel? how about some water? apple slices? forehead kisses every ten minutes? medicine with a kiss as a chaser?”
“mmm… apple. but peeled…” you whisper, voice small and hoarse, eyes half-lidded and glossy.
“of course, peeled! only the finest fruits for my fevered little dumpling,” he gasps, hand dramatically on his chest like he’s been knighted for a sacred quest. there’s a shine in his eyes—something starry, something stupidly in love.
he tucks you in like a burrito, tugs the blankets up to your chin, and then scoops you onto his lap because apparently that’s where you sleep best. his fingers comb through your hair, slow and tender, while your cheek rests limp against his shirt. he puts on your comfort show, even though you barely keep your eyes open long enough to register the sound.
he hums something soft—tuneless and low—while cradling you like a fevered woodland creature. his tone dips lower when he leans in again.
“do you still love me even if i’m gross and sweaty and my nose is red?” you mumble, lips wobbling, brows pinched like the thought genuinely upsets you.
his hand smooths along your cheek. “i love you way more,” he says instantly. “you’re my sweaty, sniffly soulmate. cutest germ gremlin i’ve ever seen.”
“you’re lying…”
“baby, i would kiss your snotty nose right now if you asked.”
there’s something almost reverent in the way he says it—like it’s a vow. and he means it. he’d do it without hesitation, wouldn’t even flinch. because if it’s you, there’s no such thing as gross. not when he’s this stupidly in love. not when every part of you, even at your messiest, makes him want to wrap you up in his arms and never let go.
you groan into his shirt, muffled and pitiful, and he grins like you just serenaded him.
“who’s the most handsome man in the world?” he asks out of nowhere, fingers curling behind your ear, brushing tenderly as if coaxing the answer out. his voice dips low, honey-sweet and just a little smug. not because he expects the answer—no, he needs it. his entire self-worth depends on your silly little validation right now.
“you are,” you mumble, cheeks squished slightly against his chest, nuzzling closer without shame.
his fingers twitch where they cradle your skull. his whole face lights up like a sunrise. pale lashes flutter, and his pupils dilate like he’s just been told he won a lifetime supply of you.
“louder.”
“toruuuuu… it’s you…”
the pleased little noise he makes is downright sinful. his lashes flutter shut as he closes his eyes in smug bliss, and he tilts his head back like he’s soaking in the warmth of your praise. if he had a tail, it would be wagging.
“that’s right,” he beams, practically preening, fingers now stroking under your chin. “say it again. for my health.”
“you’re the handsomest… in the whole world… even when your hair’s stupid…”
he gasps, clutching his chest with a hand like you just shot cupid’s arrow straight through it. “rude and true. i’ll take it.”
his heart is doing somersaults. he’s convinced there’s never been a more fulfilling moment in his life. not the promotions, not the accolades, not even the recognition. just this—this feverish little version of you, croaky and honest and too tired to pretend you’re not as in love with him as he is with you.
he whispers the dumbest, softest shit while holding you against his chest like you’re something sacred. calls you every pet name in the book and then invents new ones on the spot: baby, sweetheart, princess, dumpling, snugglebug, fever bean, coughy cake, angel face mcsweats-a-lot.
you blink up at him between fits of sleep, lips parted like you want to say something else—but all that comes out is a pathetic little whimper. his hand smooths over your spine again, touch featherlight.
“what was that, baby?” he whispers.
“love you…” you murmur, eyes falling shut.
his heart flips. flips, spirals, and lands in a fucking somersault.
he kisses your temple and you go quiet.
and when you finally pass out, nose smooshed into his collarbone, snoring faintly like the most adorable little gremlin, he exhales like it’s the best moment of his life. like the universe aligned just for this. like his purpose has been fulfilled. his hand never stops moving—stroking your spine, combing your hair, tracing shapes into your shoulder blade beneath the fabric of his shirt.
he lives for clingy, soft, unguarded sick-you. because even though he adores the bratty, sharp-tongued, little menace version of you that picks fights and flicks him on the forehead and makes him earn every kiss—this version? this sleepy, dependent little furnace wrapped in blankets and his love? she needs him.
and satoru loves being needed. loves being the one you reach for, even when you’re half-delirious. especially when you’re half-delirious.
he leans down again, voice barely audible now.
“rest up, baby,” he whispers, brushing your hair from your clammy forehead. “you’ll feel better soon. and then i’ll go back to being emotionally bullied by my beloved wife.”
You’re not sure when the fixation began. All you knew was that it was slowly beginning to manifest as a growing itch, eventually gnawing at your mind with an unbearable intensity. Unfortunately for you, you were reserved by nature. Affection didn’t come to you naturally— in both giving and receiving. You’d shy away from your boyfriend, freezing at the briefest bit of contact.
Sometimes, all you could do was ask the question— why was Satoru even with you in the first place?
Your boyfriend was always loud with his affection, dramatic proclamations of love spilling from his lips every day whilst remaining conscious of your boundaries. Satoru made sure to look you in the eye before initiating anything, the deep blue twinkling regardless of whether you rejected his advances or not. He gave you time. He gave you space.
But now you don't want either.
“Doin’ okay, sweetcheeks?” Satoru’s voice brought you out of your thoughts as you watched him cook breakfast. Your head rested in your hand, legs swinging from where you sat on the countertop. He was facing you now, sunlight dancing over his fair lashes. Your boyfriend was simply stunning.
Your throat dried up— as it usually did when you felt vulnerable. You nodded, but the lie felt wrong. You shrugged, then shook your head with a sigh.
Satoru doesn’t push you to elaborate. He merely watched with those glinting eyes, sizzling pan set down onto the stove. The lopsided grin he usually gave you melted into one that was much softer. He didn’t want to scare his pretty girl off.
His lack of response prompted you, urged you to fill the silence.
“I kinda… want a kiss,” you begin, clammy fingers twisting into your hoodie,”but I don’t know how to tell you that.”
“You just did, my pretty,” Satoru coos out softly, trying not to let the glee on his face show. His closed-off girlfriend wanted some loving, and he was more than happy to provide. He leans in closer— not enough to touch you, but enough so that the warmth of his body could soothe your frazzled nerves.
Oh, he could have just jumped in delight when he felt your warm fingers circle around his wrist. One tug of his arm turns into two, until he’s snuggled up between your parted legs.
The kiss didn’t come right away. A tender palm rubbed at your knee, massaging the bare skin in slow circles.
For once, you didn’t flinch. Yes, the touch is foreign. Your heart lurched in your chest and your skin prickled with an uncomfortable heat. But you looked at Satoru, eyes boring into his as you silently pleaded for more. The taller man could sense the uncertainty, the way you questioned whether you were deserving of his touch. He saw it all.
Your insecurity was uncalled for in his eyes. Satoru swore he’d never seen a being so divine before, and he was the lucky recipient of your love— regardless of whether or not you were able to reciprocate. If anything, he was the one that felt unworthy of even an ounce of your attention.
Satoru wanted to use his words, but he felt as if they weren’t adequate enough to convey his undying devotion to you. Instead, his safe palms slid up your arms, gently coaxing the sleeves from out of your clenched hands. To be seen is to be loved, and your boyfriend saw the way you held all your tension in your body. He saw the way your shoulders remained stiff, the tight chest… He wanted to alleviate that, so he proceeded to cup each side of your face before leaning in for a lingering peck.
Not on your lips, though.
One soft kiss to your cheek.
Another one landed on your furrowed brow, easing the stress you held there.
Your two eyelids.
The tip of your nose.
Finally, the corner of your lips.
...
You’ve never felt lighter.
Your boyfriend could tell you didn’t want to push for a proper kiss, but he was fine with that. Perfectly fine. He would happily wait until you wanted all of him, even if it took another day, another year, or perhaps— an entire infinity.
He’s lying on his stomach between your thighs, hair tickling your skin. He hums against your cunt, lips wrapped tight around your clit, tongue flicking lazy little circles like it’s just something to keep him busy.
When you whimper, he glances up at you with that smug, boyish grin, all teeth and mock innocence. “What?” he teases, “Can’t handle me multitasking?”
His voice is muffled against you, fingers pushing inside and curling up, juuust enough to make your back arch.
It’s not careful. It’s not slow. He eats like he’s starving and it’s messy and relentless, but it’s casual, too – like your pussy’s his personal snack, something he’ll keep coming back to whenever he feels like it. His jaw works, tongue dragging through your syrupy folds before flattening against your clit, leaving you shaking and squirming as his hands prop your thighs up over his shoulders.
“Fuuuck, you taste good,” he groans against you, voice vibrating through your folds.
And then he’s sucking – hard. Cheeks hollowing, tongue swirling quick little circles that have you thrashing before dipping into your cunt just to feel your walls flutter. And the worst part?
He’s laughing into you, low and easy, every time your thighs clamp around his head.
“Ah, don’t do that– s’like you’re tryna keep me here foreeeever. Not that I’d mind.”
By the time your orgasm hits, he’s already got you trembling, crying out as your cunt spasms under his ministrations. And even then, he doesn’t stop. Just smirks against you, tongue lapping through every shake and every aftershock, greedy and unrelenting until your thighs are quivering helplessly around his face.
Finally, he pulls back with his lips shiny, chin slick, grinning up at you like he’s just won something. He drags his fingers through your folds, spreading you open, the pad of his thumb brushing against your clit like he’s checking how sensitive you still are.
“Aw, look at you. Wrecked already?”
He grins when you gasp out his name, slipping two fingers back in just to spread them out and watch you jolt. He leans in, tongue darting out to lick his lips, a laugh settling low in his throat.
“Cute,” he hums, eyes half-lidded as his gaze darts to your fucked out face.
poor gojo just wants his lovely wife to himself… but the house has been way too full.
gojo x female!reader, nsfw, virgin!reader, mdni
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
You loved your family. You loved his friends. You’d smiled through every gathering, every sudden visit, every “we were just in the neighborhood” moment that somehow ended in sleepovers and breakfast for six. You didn’t complain. You didn’t want to be ungrateful. They were happy for your marriage, and you were too.
But two months?
Two whole months.
Not one single night to yourselves. Not one uninterrupted moment where you could curl into your husband's arms and let him touch you the way he wanted to. The way he needed to.
And Gojo, bless him, had been trying.
At first, it was teasing: a soft groan against your ear as he passed behind you in the kitchen. Wandering hands beneath the blanket during movie nights, barely concealed under the weight of guests spread across your couch. Quick kisses that left your lips tingling and your thighs pressed together beneath your sundress.
But it wasn’t enough.
Not for him.
And definitely not for you.
Because it didn’t stop there.
By week three, Gojo’s restraint had worn paper-thin. He was constantly behind you. Pressing against your back in the hallway, brushing his lips over your shoulder while pretending to reach for something overhead. His palm would rest just a little too long on your waist when people were watching- but when they weren’t?
He’d dip low and whisper filth against your skin. Hot, needy things that made your face flush and your thighs ache. Things he meant.
“m'Gonna come in my pants if you keep sitting like that, baby…”
“Can’t even look at you without thinking about how good that pussy’s gonna feel wrapped around me.”
“Bet you’re dripping under that little dress, huh? All soft and untouched and mine.”
You’d wake up in the middle of the night with his arms around your waist and his hard-on pressed firm into your ass. Sometimes he’d rut against you in his sleep, breath hitching, hand sliding beneath your shirt, just resting there. Shaking with need.
By the end of week six, you were both losing it.
He wouldn’t let you bend over in front of him anymore. Wouldn’t let you wear certain dresses in the house. Wouldn’t sit on the same couch during movie night because he knew he’d end up pulling you onto his lap, rocking you against his clothed cock until you soaked through your panties.
You were holding your breath every damn day. Hiding the way your nipples hardened when he walked in the room. The way your core throbbed just from watching him clench his jaw in frustration. The way you got wet when he looked at you like he might say fuck it, consequences be damned, and take you right there on the kitchen counter.
Eventually, you both agreed on the “pillow rule.”
Something. Anything to keep the peace. To keep your hands to yourselves. At night, you'd sleep with a firm pillow between your bodies like a pathetic little chastity belt. You both laughed the first night,Gojo called it “the cockblock cushion”but now?
Now?
Now the pillow was discarded on the floor.
You sat on his lap, legs sprawled over his, your cotton sleep shirt hitched up around your waist, the only barrier long gone. His deep, shaky breaths fanned the back of your neck, nose pressed into your skin like he couldn’t get close enough.
“I can’t—ngghhh,” you whimpered, hips twitching at the slow, maddening drag of his fingers inside you.
“Shh, baby. Shh,” he whispered again, kissing the shell of your ear, voice thick and desperate. “Quiet. They’re still here.”
And they were.
His best friend was passed out on the downstairs couch. Your cousin and her boyfriend had taken the guest room. Someone else had claimed the pull-out. The house was full,every room but this one.
But you couldn’t care.
Not when his fingers were moving like that, slow and deep and so damn intentional. Curling just right. Knuckles pressing against the lips of your pussy, dragging slick sounds from your core that you both prayed the fan would drown out.
His abs clenched hard beneath your back every time you fluttered around his fingers. “I know it’s a lot, baby,” he whispered, kissing the corner of your jaw, “I know it feels so good, but we need this…”
And god, you did.
His hands didn’t stop. One arm wrapped tight around your middle, palm flat and firm over the plush of your stomach like he loved the way you filled his hands. The other worked between your thighs with slow, desperate care, slick, messy strokes hidden only by the hush of your shallow breathing and the fan humming overhead.
Your body arched helplessly, thighs trembling around him, every curve aching with the heat he’d stirred up for weeks. Your fingers dug into his forearm where it circled your belly. You felt stretched and full and so warm, everything pulsing with years of restraint unraveling in seconds. The press of his palm against your mound sent sparks up your spine, and you bit your lip so hard you tasted copper.
“I-I thought we were waiting,” you breathed out, voice soft and broken, barely there.
“We were,” Gojo said, dragging his lips down your neck, tongue flicking out to soothe the spot he’d just kissed. “But I waited through the wedding. Waited through the honeymoon we never got. Waited through eight goddamn weeks of company, of you walking around in little nightgowns with no idea how close I was to losing it.”
He curled his fingers inside you then, slow and deep.
And then, you felt it.
His other hand trailing upward, warm and steady as it cupped your breast, fingers slipping beneath your shirt to find your nipple.
Gojo groaned, deep and strained, like even he couldn’t take it anymore.
His thumb brushed over your nipple in slow, circling strokes, teasing it to a stiff peak before giving it a gentle tug. You shuddered, keening softly.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “So soft. So fuckin’ perfect everywhere. I could spend hours on these tits alone.”
He twisted gently, just enough to make your hips jolt and your walls flutter around his fingers. It was too much, his hand on your nipple, his fingers inside you, his mouth dragging kisses over your cheek like you were the only thing he believed in.
“Good girl,” he rasped, kissing your cheek again, then down to your jaw. “My good girl. Look how fuckin’ pretty you are like this.”
You were soaked.
Messy.
So full of him you thought you might cry.
“I-it’s too much,” you gasped, eyes fluttering, voice high and breathless. “Feels so good—too good, I never—oh my god—I never felt like this…”
You rambled helplessly, your thoughts unraveling like thread, hips rolling without control.
And when you clenched hard, back arching, mouth dropping open in a sharp, helpless moan, Gojo felt it.
His breath caught, then he moaned, low and guttural, thrusting up against your plush ass with barely concealed need. And just as your cry spilled out, his hand slipped from your breast to your mouth, covering it quickly, palm broad and warm against your lips.
He panted against your ear, voice trembling with restraint. “Oh fuck—there she is. That sweet little virgin cunt just milking my fingers,” he whispered, filthy and low. “So tight for me. So perfect.”
You whined into his palm, whole body shaking. The pressure was unbearable now, sharp and tight and growing, your thighs trembling, stomach tightening with every curl of his fingers and every flick of his thumb.
“You gonna come for me, baby?” he murmured again, his hand never slowing. “Wanna feel you soak my fingers. Right here in our bed, while everyone else sleeps. Want you to make a mess for me. Wanna see you squirt all over my fuckin’ hand.”
You whimpered, nodded, helpless.
And with one final stroke, his fingers curling deep, his thumb flicking faster, his teeth nipping your earlobe, you shattered.
Trembling, gasping beneath his hand, you came hard, sensitive, overwhelmed, wetness gushing down your thighs as you squirted for the first time in your life. Your whole body jerked, your chubby frame spasming in his lap while your pussy clenched around his fingers like a vice.
Gojo groaned against your ear, holding you down with one arm like he couldn’t bear to let go.
“Fuck, fuck, that’s it,” he moaned, kissing your cheek as you writhed. “That’s my girl. You’re mine, baby. You’re all mine.”
He held you through it, his free arm still tight around your waist, his lips never leaving your face, your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth, whispering praises while you came apart in his lap.
Only when your body finally sagged against him, limp and breathless, did he move his hand from your mouth and kiss you, slow and deep and full of all the things he hadn’t said.
satoru gojo made a point to come home with at least some cuts and bruises. sure, he had his reversed curse technique, but he was also selfish. a little bit, at least.
nothing crazy, nothing enough to kill him. he’d just lower his infinity for a moment, long enough for another to get a lick on him. it was like he collected them. shiny badge of... your attention?
obviously, if anything, he’d have to try to get hurt. which did, in fact, make this a little harder. he’d have to be careful to get hurt just enough.
and, you? well, you were never the wiser.
everyday night, he’d come come with 'battle wounds', and you’d rush to his side, making sure he was okay. you’d stress about it, even though it was something akin to a paper cut.
you didn’t know about his ‘self-healing’, no, why would you?
he feels a little bad, when your brows knit together, and a frown graces your face. but, when your hands are on him, gently tending — soothing — the guilt seems to wash away.
“‘toru,” you coo, gently applying the anti-septic. he doesn’t hiss at the sting, he’s gotten used to you applying it. he barely hums back, opting to lovingly gaze at you.
“does it hurt anywhere?” you ask.
“no— wait, yeah.” he taps on his temple, and you press a kiss there. he hated the headache his six-eyes gave him, but this seemed like one of the times it was worth it.
“and here,” satoru continues, a spot on his cheekbone. it’s a newly forming bruise, but it doesn’t hurt at all. he’ll use his technique when you’re asleep, wounds — if you can even call them that — disappearing.
funny thing was, you just assumed he was a quick healer.
you press a kiss, there, too. a grin grows on his lips, one he doesn’t bother to suppress. it’s signature of his. there’s a glint of mischief in satoru’s eyes, but if you’re being honest, there always seems to be.
“right here,” he says, pointing to his lips, pouting slightly. “really bad.”
“aw,” you giggle, “poor baby.” despite that, you kiss him anyways. soft and warm, just how he likes it.
but, then again, he’d like anything you gave him.
so, yeah, satoru may be the strongest, but when it comes to you?
satoru is the very definition of looks at you lovingly without realizing he’s in love. but it is known from the way his chin is rested on his fist as he gazes at you, blindfold or not, it is visible to everyone in the room that he is only ever looking at you, nothing else able to attract his attention away when you are close because it is as if the entire world holds its breath and finally disappears, leaving just the two of you like nothing else matters. he is hanging on to every single word that leaves your lips, filing everything you say to the back of his mind to bring up later because there is not a single thing in the world in which you say that is ever irrelevant. never do his eyes stray from the curve of your mouth when you speak, your dimples joyfully making their appearance on your cheeks when you smile. all things about you are so infectious, especially that smile which he returns dreamily without even realizing. he notices it all, the way your eyes widen at certain points of your sentences, the gestures of your hands that only get increasingly erratic to emphasize how serious you are about a topic, how your brows scrunch up in that adorable way they do when you’re intently focused — he can’t help but pick up on these little habits and quirks of yours, your body language another thing he was determined to learn about you because it is integral to who you are and he is only ever curious about you. nothing else in the world is able to have him so hooked onto something or someone that even the satoru gojo is able to sit still and quietly to listen like a tamed animal — though the liveliness of him is shown in a different way, through the pink hue of his flushed cheeks and his dazzling bright cerulean eyes as he takes in the only sight worth looking at before him. how is it that you are able to provide him with that rush he is only ever able to get in battle but you are just sitting there existing? the moment your eyes lock onto his he feels he can’t breathe but once your mouth falls open and the sound of your voice rings in his ears, he feels the life return to him as if all is well and how it’s meant to be. when he’s with you, in your presence, the privilege of being near and dear to you as someone in your life, part of your world — you are ever the only main attraction, a work of art compared to him, a simple statue there to observe and admire you for the rest of eternity whilst the outsiders carry on in envy at the look of his love.
୨୧ — Gojo notices everything about you, especially in moments like these when you’re curled up like a content little kitten on the couch. Your oversized sweater slipping off one shoulder as you wiggle your toes in those fuzzy socks, and how your nose scrunches adorably while focusing on catching that sneaky fish in Animal Crossing, completely lost in your virtual island paradise.
He also notices when you haven’t paid attention to him all day. And if Gojo Satoru isn't getting his daily dose of you, then something must be done.
"Mmn~, pay attention to meeeee," Gojo whined dramatically, flopping onto the couch with all the grace of an attention starved puppy. His fluffy white hair tickling your thighs as he positions himself between your legs, making you giggle despite trying to maintain concentration.
"Shhh, I'm trying to foc-eep~♡!" Your stern words dissolved into a pitiful little squeak as his strong arms suddenly wrapped around your legs, spreading them wide with playful enthusiasm. How those brilliant blue irises of his practically sparkled with a devilish glint made your heart skip as he noticed your lack of underwear, "N-Not now, Satoru, i want to play my-!!"
"Aww, but I wanna play too," he cooed, nuzzling against your inner thigh like an affectionate cat, "And look what pretty toy I found~ no panties? My adorable little player going commando? How scandalous~"
You try to close your legs when his warm breath ghosts across your exposed pussy, "S-Satoru!" you squealed, trying to keep your Switch steady even as heat flooded your cheeks, "don't you have literally anyone else to pester? L-like Nanami, he’s fun to annoy, right?"
He pouted dramatically, batting those impossibly long eyelashes, "I thought you knew?" He cocked his head at you while giving you the sweetest smile, "Pestering you is my favorite hobby. Besides..." he drags his tongue slowly up your slit, making you nearly drop your game, "Nanami could never taste this good."
Your gasp turned into a giggle that melted into a moan as he hummed happily like he's enjoying the sweetest dessert.
"Mmm, sweet as candy." he purred between licks, "Keep playing your game, sweetie. Let's see how long you can focus~"
Your fingers trembled on the controls as he devoured you like his favorite dessert, making exaggerated "nom nom" sounds that had you torn between laughing and moaning. The fishing line wobbled wildly on screen while his tongue dove inside, swirling around your gummy insides and coaxing out your sweet juices before moving up to wrap his soft lips around your swollen clit, sucking gently.
"Ahh! Y-you're m’impo-hah~ssible!" you whimpered, trying to sound angry even as your hips rocked against his face.
"Impossibly charming? Impossibly handsome? Impossibly good at making you cum?" He winked up at you, chin glistening with your juices.
The Switch clattered to the floor as you tangled your fingers in his white hair, giving up any resistance. The noises Gojo was pulling out of you were lewd enough to make a porn star blush, and that cocky- delighted chuckle only spurred you on more as it vibrated against your clit.
"Such pretty noises you make," he teases between slurps, his tongue swirling around your throbbing nub, "Much better than any game soundtrack."
"Sh-ut up, you men-ah~ce," you moaned, tugging his hair the way you knew he loved. His responding growl making your toes curl.
"Make me," he challenged, slipping two fingers inside your drooling cunt, pumping in and out at a delicious pace before curling them to hit that spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back. "We're just getting started. I've got lots more games we can play~"
His cock pressed insistently against his pants as he crawled up your body, catching your lips in a messy kiss that let you taste yourself on his playful tongue.
"Congrats~ you unlocked the next level. Ready for the next stage?" he asked, grinding his hips against yours teasingly. "I promise it's more fun than Animal Crossing~"
You knew your game would have to wait, especially since it now lies forgotten on the floor as Gojo shows you exactly why he’s your favorite distraction. After all, who needed virtual fishing when you had the strongest determined to make you cum until you were seeing stars?
