the wine ain’t sweeter

mads | 27 | minors DNI 18+ | i write whatever i'm fixated on | requests open

[midnightfictionlibrary]

killshot - roronoa zoro x reader

roronoa zoro x reader

cw : a bit of angst, mentions of drinking

word count : 1.3k

Zoro was devastatingly handsome, and you were painfully aware of it.

You were pretty sure Zoro was going to kill you. Not that he didn’t like you, of course, but he was so handsome that his presence made your heart speed up way too fast, and you were pretty sure it was skipping beats. 

As the ship’s chronicler, you would find places to sit and write out the travel log wherever you saw fit. This time, you were up in the crow’s nest, scribbling away as you hummed to yourself. Zoro was nearby, and you were desperately trying to keep your eyes off him. 

But then…you look up, and he’s sweating, picking up a bottle of water in his large hand, and gulping it down. His Adam’s apple bobs, and your eyes are so trained on it that you practically salivate at the sight. When his good eye flicks to you, you swallow and look away, continuing to scribble away in the log. What was wrong with you? Never had you ever felt like you were going crazy over a man simply drinking water. 

Standing up abruptly, you gather your materials and scramble down to the main deck, feeling as if the air in the crow’s nest was too stifling, too thick. Rushing past Robin, she uses one of her many arms to lightly grab ahold of yours, stopping you. 

“Hey - slow down, what’s wrong? Did you see something?” She asks, same dulcet tones she always used with those she was close to on the crew. 

You hesitate, juggling your work materials. “I - well -” Your eyes widen slightly as you see Zoro descending, and you let out a small, imperceptible sound from the back of your throat, pulling away from Robin and rushing to the study Franky had specially built for you.

Robin turns, raising an eyebrow when she sees Zoro. With a towel slung over his shoulder, his lips turn down at the corners. “She alright?” He asks, “She was in the crow’s nest and then bolted. Wanted to make sure she wasn’t sick.” 

With a quiet hum, Robin looks back towards the direction you bolted in. “She must not be feeling well. She didn’t say much.” Robin tells him, a small smirk playing on her lips as the swordsman nods slowly and wanders off to find a spot to nap. Like many things that happen around the ship, Robin seemed to have it figured out before anyone else. 

Back in your study, you pace the small space, wondering when on earth you started to feel this way about Zoro of all people. He was stoic, usually quiet, and definitely didn’t shower as often as he should. 

But…he was also shy, and kind, and wouldn’t hesitate to step in front of another weapon to ensure your safety. Maybe it was in the way he always left the seat next to him open at breakfast for you, or the way he would bring you water on extra hot days, when you were scribbling chronicles down without stopping to take a break. You didn’t know, but just seeing him lately made it feel like your heart was in your throat. Was this feeling anxiety? 

Taking a shaky breath, you press the backs of your cool hands to your cheeks. “Get it together, stop being weird” you tell yourself, taking a deep breath and looking at your reflection in the glass door of your book cabinet. Why were you acting like you hadn’t been around attractive men before? You scoff at yourself and shake your head again, steeling yourself and opening the door. 

And there, fist raised, a sake bottle dangling idly from his other hand, stood Roronoa Zoro. “I…wh-” you start to say, just as he asks “Are you okay?” 

You pause, swallowing. “I’m…fine.” 

Zoro raises an eyebrow, taking a step back as you exit your study and close the door. “You sure? You keep bolting every time you see me today.” 

You nod, mustering up the courage to look him in his good eye. What the hell were you supposed to say - “you’re the most handsome person I’ve ever seen, please let me bite your biceps”? Somehow you didn’t think that would do you any good. 

“I’ve just…got a lot of extra energy today.” You manage finally. You know that your cheeks are as red as Luffy’s vest, and you know he can see it. You smile, trying to play it off like it’s normal. 

Zoro raises an eyebrow, watching you for a moment. It didn’t look like he believed you. You shrug at him. He narrows his eyes at you, but takes a step back.

”O…kay.” He says. “Let me know if you want to train together later.” He says, shrugging. You flush again, but nod. 

“Sure, sure! That sounds great!” You quickly agree, your voice strained. 

Zoro stops,lowering the bottle to his side. “Okay. You’re lying to me.” He says, a frown painting his lips. 

You freeze, a startled scoff coming from you. “I..what? No, I’m not.” You say, shaking your head vigorously. You try to step sideways and make your way around him, but he blocks your path. You look up at him, a bit startled to see how close he was to you now. 

“Did I do something to hurt you? Annoy you?” He asks, his gruff voice quieter than usual. His nostrils flare, and you watch as he swallows. “ You don’t usually run away from me like this.” 

That makes you pause. You didn’t consider that trying to dodge him because you can’t control your blushing would hurt his feelings. But he would never admit that. You knew that. 

“Oh…” You breathe out. “No. No, of course you didn’t.” You say softly. “I just…I…” You swallow. 

Roronoa Zoro goes for the killshot, it seems. His free hand leaves his side, his thumb and index finger coming to pinch your chin lightly, moving you gently to face him. “You just what?” he murmurs, brows pinched now. His good eye studies you, like he’s trying his hardest to read your mind. 

“I just…” you swallow, your gaze flickering over his face. “I like you.” You whisper. 

He stops, freezes like what you said has pinned him in place. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have -” You begin to say, trying to pull back from his grasp. 

His fingers tighten slightly, holding you there. “You…what?” He asks, one gray eye sliding to yours. 

Your brows pinch. Was that…a blush creeping across his cheeks? You clear your throat a bit, sliding your hand up to grip his wrist, gently pulling his hand down. “I like you.” You say again, and he nods once. You watch his Adam’s apple bob slightly. 

“That’s what I thought you said.” He whispers quietly. 

“Listen, if you don’t feel the same, that's okay, I just really needed you to know.” You say. “I keep running because watching you make me blush and stutter like a schoolgirl.” You rush out. 

Before you can keep rambling, Zoro steps forward, caging you in against your study door. 

“Zoro?” You ask.

“Shh.” He says, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your face. You lean into his rough, calloused palm, chasing the warmth of him. Your breath falters as he leans forward, his eye flickering from your eyes to your lips. 

“Can I?” He asks gruffly, his voice hushed in the corridor of the ship. You nod, eyes fluttering as he finally leaves in and captures your lips with his. 

It was electric, every nerve in your body seemingly coming to life as his lips moved against yours. Your hands hover, finally resting against his chest as he pulls back. 

You’re breathless, eyes sparkling as you look up at him. Zoro rests his forehead against yours. 

“I need to tell you something.” He says softly. 

“O..oh?” You whisper into the space between you. 

“I like you too.” He says. “Maybe not as much as my swords but -” 

You laugh at that, shoving his chest lightly, which pulls a small grin from him as he catches your wrist and pulls you into a hug. 

Safe. Protected. His.

a/n - this has been in my drafts for 3534345 days and i'm so glad i finally finished it.

[midnightfictionlibrary]

the new Zayne card from the multi banner has my brain WHIRRING to write an au

[gojosteddy]

𝓱usband!kento who presses a quick kiss to your temple every morning before leaving for work. it’s an unspoken habit, one he never forgets no matter how early he has to leave. if you stir awake while he’s pulling away from you, he’ll murmur a soft “go back to sleep, love” before slipping out the door.

𝓱usband!kento who speaks to you calmly even on his worst days!!! he could never bring himself to raise his voice at you no matter how tired or frustrated he was :( he absolutely refuses to let you become the outlet for his anger.

𝓱usband!kento who only shows his sense of humor around you. his dry, borderline terrible dad jokes that often make you snort are reserved solely for your ears. and when you tease him about how funny he actually is, he’ll only raise an eyebrow before saying, “i’ve got a reputation to maintain. can’t have others knowing i’m actually this amusing.”

𝓱usband!kento who notices when something’s wrong before you mention it. his gaze softening slightly before asking, “do you want to talk about it?” and if you don’t, he doesn’t push— instead he’ll stay patient until you’re ready to open up about whatever’s been bothering you.

𝓱usband!kento who listens to you ramble about anything and everything after a long day. he’ll loosen his tie, roll up his sleeves, and give you his full attention by keeping his eyes on you; nodding along to every word while actively hearing you talk about your day, your coworkers, or even the random documentary you watched the other time. kento loves hearing you speak even when you think you’re talking too much.

𝓱usband!kento who still gets you flowers even when there’s no special occasion. sometimes it’s a small bouquet of roses, while other times it’s just a single stem he saw on his way home from the supermarket. he’ll pass it to you with a faint softness in his expression as he says, “… this is for you, love.” you now have a collection of dried flowers tucked away, each one from a different day he thought of you.

𝓱usband!kento who goes to great lengths to ensure you feel comfortable & fulfilled. he takes care of things without making a big show of it, choosing to ease your burdens wherever he can by helping you with the house chores sometimes, and making sure you don’t overwork yourself too much since he’s more than willing to provide for you both.

⨳ 𝓷𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i actually do miss writing for kento…

credits to im4yeons for the pink cream & star divider, polka dot floral frame found on pinterest ♡

© gojosteddy | please do not repost, plagiarise or modify any of my works

[midnightfictionlibrary]

killshot - roronoa zoro x reader

roronoa zoro x reader

cw : a bit of angst, mentions of drinking

word count : 1.3k

Zoro was devastatingly handsome, and you were painfully aware of it.

You were pretty sure Zoro was going to kill you. Not that he didn’t like you, of course, but he was so handsome that his presence made your heart speed up way too fast, and you were pretty sure it was skipping beats. 

As the ship’s chronicler, you would find places to sit and write out the travel log wherever you saw fit. This time, you were up in the crow’s nest, scribbling away as you hummed to yourself. Zoro was nearby, and you were desperately trying to keep your eyes off him. 

But then…you look up, and he’s sweating, picking up a bottle of water in his large hand, and gulping it down. His Adam’s apple bobs, and your eyes are so trained on it that you practically salivate at the sight. When his good eye flicks to you, you swallow and look away, continuing to scribble away in the log. What was wrong with you? Never had you ever felt like you were going crazy over a man simply drinking water. 

Standing up abruptly, you gather your materials and scramble down to the main deck, feeling as if the air in the crow’s nest was too stifling, too thick. Rushing past Robin, she uses one of her many arms to lightly grab ahold of yours, stopping you. 

“Hey - slow down, what’s wrong? Did you see something?” She asks, same dulcet tones she always used with those she was close to on the crew. 

You hesitate, juggling your work materials. “I - well -” Your eyes widen slightly as you see Zoro descending, and you let out a small, imperceptible sound from the back of your throat, pulling away from Robin and rushing to the study Franky had specially built for you.

Robin turns, raising an eyebrow when she sees Zoro. With a towel slung over his shoulder, his lips turn down at the corners. “She alright?” He asks, “She was in the crow’s nest and then bolted. Wanted to make sure she wasn’t sick.” 

With a quiet hum, Robin looks back towards the direction you bolted in. “She must not be feeling well. She didn’t say much.” Robin tells him, a small smirk playing on her lips as the swordsman nods slowly and wanders off to find a spot to nap. Like many things that happen around the ship, Robin seemed to have it figured out before anyone else. 

Back in your study, you pace the small space, wondering when on earth you started to feel this way about Zoro of all people. He was stoic, usually quiet, and definitely didn’t shower as often as he should. 

But…he was also shy, and kind, and wouldn’t hesitate to step in front of another weapon to ensure your safety. Maybe it was in the way he always left the seat next to him open at breakfast for you, or the way he would bring you water on extra hot days, when you were scribbling chronicles down without stopping to take a break. You didn’t know, but just seeing him lately made it feel like your heart was in your throat. Was this feeling anxiety? 

Taking a shaky breath, you press the backs of your cool hands to your cheeks. “Get it together, stop being weird” you tell yourself, taking a deep breath and looking at your reflection in the glass door of your book cabinet. Why were you acting like you hadn’t been around attractive men before? You scoff at yourself and shake your head again, steeling yourself and opening the door. 

And there, fist raised, a sake bottle dangling idly from his other hand, stood Roronoa Zoro. “I…wh-” you start to say, just as he asks “Are you okay?” 

You pause, swallowing. “I’m…fine.” 

Zoro raises an eyebrow, taking a step back as you exit your study and close the door. “You sure? You keep bolting every time you see me today.” 

You nod, mustering up the courage to look him in his good eye. What the hell were you supposed to say - “you’re the most handsome person I’ve ever seen, please let me bite your biceps”? Somehow you didn’t think that would do you any good. 

“I’ve just…got a lot of extra energy today.” You manage finally. You know that your cheeks are as red as Luffy’s vest, and you know he can see it. You smile, trying to play it off like it’s normal. 

Zoro raises an eyebrow, watching you for a moment. It didn’t look like he believed you. You shrug at him. He narrows his eyes at you, but takes a step back.

”O…kay.” He says. “Let me know if you want to train together later.” He says, shrugging. You flush again, but nod. 

“Sure, sure! That sounds great!” You quickly agree, your voice strained. 

Zoro stops,lowering the bottle to his side. “Okay. You’re lying to me.” He says, a frown painting his lips. 

You freeze, a startled scoff coming from you. “I..what? No, I’m not.” You say, shaking your head vigorously. You try to step sideways and make your way around him, but he blocks your path. You look up at him, a bit startled to see how close he was to you now. 

“Did I do something to hurt you? Annoy you?” He asks, his gruff voice quieter than usual. His nostrils flare, and you watch as he swallows. “ You don’t usually run away from me like this.” 

That makes you pause. You didn’t consider that trying to dodge him because you can’t control your blushing would hurt his feelings. But he would never admit that. You knew that. 

“Oh…” You breathe out. “No. No, of course you didn’t.” You say softly. “I just…I…” You swallow. 

Roronoa Zoro goes for the killshot, it seems. His free hand leaves his side, his thumb and index finger coming to pinch your chin lightly, moving you gently to face him. “You just what?” he murmurs, brows pinched now. His good eye studies you, like he’s trying his hardest to read your mind. 

“I just…” you swallow, your gaze flickering over his face. “I like you.” You whisper. 

He stops, freezes like what you said has pinned him in place. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have -” You begin to say, trying to pull back from his grasp. 

His fingers tighten slightly, holding you there. “You…what?” He asks, one gray eye sliding to yours. 

Your brows pinch. Was that…a blush creeping across his cheeks? You clear your throat a bit, sliding your hand up to grip his wrist, gently pulling his hand down. “I like you.” You say again, and he nods once. You watch his Adam’s apple bob slightly. 

“That’s what I thought you said.” He whispers quietly. 

“Listen, if you don’t feel the same, that's okay, I just really needed you to know.” You say. “I keep running because watching you make me blush and stutter like a schoolgirl.” You rush out. 

Before you can keep rambling, Zoro steps forward, caging you in against your study door. 

“Zoro?” You ask.

“Shh.” He says, bringing a hand up to cup the side of your face. You lean into his rough, calloused palm, chasing the warmth of him. Your breath falters as he leans forward, his eye flickering from your eyes to your lips. 

“Can I?” He asks gruffly, his voice hushed in the corridor of the ship. You nod, eyes fluttering as he finally leaves in and captures your lips with his. 

It was electric, every nerve in your body seemingly coming to life as his lips moved against yours. Your hands hover, finally resting against his chest as he pulls back. 

You’re breathless, eyes sparkling as you look up at him. Zoro rests his forehead against yours. 

“I need to tell you something.” He says softly. 

“O..oh?” You whisper into the space between you. 

“I like you too.” He says. “Maybe not as much as my swords but -” 

You laugh at that, shoving his chest lightly, which pulls a small grin from him as he catches your wrist and pulls you into a hug. 

Safe. Protected. His.

a/n - this has been in my drafts for 3534345 days and i'm so glad i finally finished it.

[candiedchoso]

HEAVY METAL LOVER (SG)

Synopsis: You're childhood best friends with Satoru Gojo, who you've been avoiding ever since he got into a motorcycle accident. When your mutual friends force you to go to his birthday party, feelings arise, and clothes come off!

Pairing: Gojo x Reader

Content (MDNI): Biker!gojo, Scar!jo, childhood friends to lovers, gojo did almost die in a motorcycle accident, physical rehab, reader mentions being afraid to see gojo's lifeless body, but he's not dead, gojo is battered up (scar!jo), pwp if you squint for the first five hundred words, body worship, they're both pervs hk, p worshiping, p slapping, slight marathon if you also squint, idiots in love, filthy and i mean filthy dirty talk, fingering, creampies, man-handling...i think that's it

Word count: 10.2k...i got carried away. sue me.

A/N: I haven't published fan fiction in YEARS, mind you, but this one TikTok that talked about Scar!Jo being Biker!Jo, after an accident, and i just had to write it.

It was rare for you to hate anything. It was even rarer for you to hate anything related to your friends.  You strongly disliked the way Toji would kick his feet up on your coffee table whenever he was over. You were agitated by how nitpicky Geto was whenever everyone went out to eat. You were irritated by the loud scream Yuji and Choso let out after they splashed you with water at Nanami’s last summer party. 

You hated Gojo’s motorcycle. You downright despised the unnecessarily loud, clunky, piece of metal death machine that Gojo so happened to still proudly (stupidly) love. Your dislike for that motorcycle really started when he first showed up to your place at nine at night to pick you up for Shoko’s thirtieth birthday party. You walked for fifteen minutes out of the neighborhood before Gojo finally convinced you to get on, and you absolutely despised it. You especially detested the way your legs wobbled, both feeling so unsteady because of the motorcycle, and also from having to grip Gojo so hard that his cologne still hadn’t fully detached from your mind.

However, the biggest reason you hated that motorcycle was that it almost cost you your best friend. It’s been months since you got that call from Geto telling you Gojo was in the hospital because of a motorcycle accident. Apparently, it was pretty bad; he had been unconscious from the amount of blood he lost. Surgery was inevitable if he survived, and by Shoko’s words, it was a miracle that he did. Now every time you see a motorcycle, a pit of disgust builds inside of you, and it takes every part of your rational mind not to bash the thing apart outside of a random store. So, as is normally the case, you silently seethe throughout the day until it’s been so long you just get over it, though a motorcycle wasn’t always necessary for that to happen.

“So are we going to talk about it?” Shoko’s words confuse the hell out of you. It must be obvious the way she sighs, and Geto laughs without looking up from his phone, probably texting another girl. “Are you going to continue to sit there and pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about?”

“So, I actually have no idea what you’re talking about?” Another bold-faced lie to two of the people you care about the most.

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N. Next week, not ringing any bells for you?” You retrace the days until you’re hit with an upcoming December 7th. Now Suguru's smugness makes sense. Instead of admitting that you know what they’re talking about, you slump back into the couch and pick the next best option— playing dumb.

“Hmmm, nope. Nothing’s coming up.” That finally pulls Geto away from his phone, and Shoko puts her unlit cigarette down, to just deadpan. Their stares linger long enough for you to finally give in with a sigh. You couldn’t ignore his existence forever. “Yeah, I know.”

“We’re throwing something for him. You should be there.” That uncomfortable pit in your stomach opened up again. It had been months since you last saw Gojo. You didn’t even see him when he was in the hospital; you couldn’t bring yourself to. Seeing him all managed up, tubes sticking out of him, face uncharacteristically unresponsive to you made you nauseous, but not seeing him all that time made seeing him now harder.

“I don’t think either of us wants to see each other, or else we would have by now.”

“You don’t want to see him for some reason, but he wants to see you.” Suguru’s words hit the dead center of your armor, stinging you a little.

“He asks about you all the time,” Shoko adds, another stinging sensation.

“It’s honestly starting to get annoying.” You can’t help but laugh at Geto’s words. If anyone was being forced to put up with Satoru, it’s Suguru. They’d been best friends for what felt like a lifetime. You’d know, you and Satoru had been friends for an actual lifetime. You remember when Suguru Geto first became friends with Satoru, after all, Satoru practically forced you two to get along. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t missed your shared obnoxious best friend. 

You’d actually be doing more than lying, whatever is worse than lying. That's what you’d be doing if you said there wasn’t a Satoru-sized hole in your life. 

Anyone in their right mind would miss their childhood best friend. Especially if they beat the odds against dying, but that feeling of seeing Gojo— stupidly walking around, talking, and somehow taking all the space when doing so, laughing loudly with no regard for volume—felt wrong. All you could imagine is his lifeless body on the operating table, and a bunch of words you wished you had said hanging on your lips. If you’re being honest, that’s the reason you won’t see him. You were too much of a coward to admit you were madly in love with your best friend, and after surviving, you don’t think you could hide it from him anymore.

If he didn’t feel the same, it might kill you on the spot. To know that the person you loved more than anything got the chance to live again, and you can’t be there because of something as potentially one-sided as feelings, was too much. The lump in your throat builds, and you’re blinking back tears, realizing the two other people in the room were watching you struggle.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s probably mad that I haven’t seen him, and I don’t blame him. Why would he even want me there?” Shoko sighs and turns around with a simple "whatever," but Suguru keeps his eyes on you, unmoved by your words.

“This is his first birthday after almost dying, and all he wants is to see you. I’m not saying you have to stay long, but…” His phone vibrates in his lap, a loud buzz filling the room and cutting him off, “…give the guy a proper goodbye if you’re set on not seeing him anymore. He deserves it.” With that, he hops up off the couch and answers whoever is on the other side of the phone.

You hate Suguru Geto so much. You hate how good he is at reading people and getting under their skin without all the information. However, you’re sure that he knows that you’re head over heels for his best friend. Which makes you standing inside of Satoru’s house dressed up, and almost about to pass out, even more sinister on his part. Shoko had warned you it was a surprise party, but you didn’t think sitting in Satoru’s place without him would make you feel so nauseated.

 It was almost the same. The same art that you put up on his living walls still held in place, the couches you fell asleep on way too many times to count, even the busted KitchenAid mixer that Toji had gotten (stolen) from his ex (situationship) still sat on the polished marble counter—a perfect capsule of time, unmoved by the months of change in Satoru’s life.

You wondered if he had stayed the same?

“Nanami just texted me! Everyone in position!” 

For those few minutes of you hiding alongside Suguru and Shoko, you felt the anxiety at its peak. Palms sweating profusely, heart about to break your ribcage, breathing rapid enough that it makes Shoko pull you towards her. Calming you down slightly enough to force a smile on your face when the lights come back on and scream surprise. For a moment, you forgot that you hadn’t seen your best friend in months until your eyes looked past his familiar white hair. His ghostly pale skin is covered in deep beige scars. They litter his body, one after the other, past his black top, and you assume the rest of his body.

That accident was written all over him. Seeing him didn’t make you as sad as you expected. It made you angry, angry at yourself for making him go through this change by himself. That anger almost completely takes you over before your eyes bounce to his— the same blue eyes that always make your breath catch. Gojo could never hide what he was thinking. The look of utter shock caught in his eyes pointed directly at you. He looked like he saw a ghost, and just as you were getting ready to say something, Haibara moved forward with his specially decorated birthday hat.

The party moved on as normal, or as normal as a party could while you’re actively dodging the host. Especially, after he stared you down whenever the group sang Happy Birthday. You managed to avoid the birthday boy at his own party. The getaway plan was even better. You’d go to the garage to grab another case of beers for everyone before saying goodbye. Fortunately for you, no one was nearby to see you sneak into the dark room. Clumsily, you look around trying to find the switch, praying you don’t accidentally open the garage door, before finding it.

Instead of your sweet ticket out of the party, you’re met with a motorcycle. Satoru’s motorcycle, specifically. In absolute pristine perfect condition. Something about seeing the motorcycle made you livid. Why the hell would he keep something like that around?

“If you were planning on never speaking to me again, I highly recommend not coming to my birthday party at my house.”

The words immediately freeze your anger into fear. Your heart drops to your feet when you turn to be met with a clearly very pissed-off Gojo. Arms crossed his broad chest, making him only look wider. Unlike most other people, Satoru's eyes get brighter when he’s angry, pissed, or irritated. Right now, two piercings, cold blue eyes stared down at you, locking you in place. You scramble for words to say, looking around for anything that could help you before you see it again, and your anger comes back.

“You still have the motorcycle?” The words come out with more bite than you mean, but right now, you really want to scream at him for being so reckless. He scoffs before laughing, almost maniacally.

“Are you kidding right now? You avoid me for months, and the first thing you have to say is some smart remark about the motorcycle? Seriously Y/N? No, how are you? No, are you okay? No, I’m sorry that I ghosted my childhood best friend during the hardest part of his life?!”

He’s right. You know he’s right. Anyone in their right mind would’ve cussed out. Screamed in your face, kicked you out of their home, and told you never to see them again. Yeah, that stupid motorcycle pissed you off, but he’s more right now.

“Gojo…”

“No! I’m not done.” He closes the door behind him. The music of the party muffled, leaving only you two truly in the moment. “You didn’t call. You didn’t text me. You didn’t let me know if you were okay. I’ve been up for months trying to get as much information about you as possible without crossing the random wall you put between us, Y/N.” He was beyond angry; he was livid. 

“Gojo-“

“Do you know how awful it feels to have to learn how to walk again, all while worrying if the most important person in your life is okay? For the first person you think of when you wake up from almost dying, to not want anything to do with you?”  His bright eyes start to redden with tears. Satoru was always sensitive, something you’ve always loved about him. “Every day, part of me hoped you would come through that hospital door, and every day you didn’t. My first friend, the last person I’d expect not to show up, did!”

“Gojo.”

“Why are you here now?! Why, after all this time, did you show up here? Especially if you were going to leave before I could say anything to you. If you were going to leave, haunt my fucking house and me, then you should’ve never come.” His voice cracks at the end, and that’s when he finally looks away from you. He’s right, you should’ve never come to his house or this party. You should’ve been a better friend. You should not have fallen in love with him. He was so upset with you in a way he had never been before; it felt like it was eating you alive. He shouldn’t be crying on his birthday. He should be laughing, making others laugh, annoying everyone in his general vicinity, being the Satoru Gojo you had the opportunity to fall in love with over the years. 

You hadn’t even noticed your own tears building before they dropped. Throat tightening, you struggle with what to say. So you settle for the easiest option.

“I’ll leave.” 

“No.” His head whips around, as if the two words startled him. “Not until you tell me why you disappeared?”

“Gojo.”

“I deserve to know why my best friend of almost three decades decided to stop talking to me for no apparent reason.” The misty-eyed stare between you is strong. Neither of you is backing down in silence for what feels like an eternity. Somewhere in between his anger and frustration, a pleading look flashes across his face. He needed the truth, and you were too scared to admit it. The words taste like bile just thinking about them. “Y/N please. You don’t have to stay. We don’t ever have to speak again. Please tell me.” The words come out so sweet, sweeter than you deserve, and it finally makes you snap.

“I couldn’t- I couldn’t look at you like that. I didn’t know how I could ever look at you as lifeless. No one wants to see the person they’re in love with barely grasping onto life. I didn’t have the courage to face you, and I couldn’t see you again without telling you that I’m in love with you. I couldn’t take it knowing I’d lose you after you got a second chance, because I can’t help but love you, Satoru. I know I’m a coward, and you deserve a much better best friend, but if you want an answer. I’m scared that knowing how I feel will make you not want to be around me, and I just can’t take that.” 

You’re a mess. The makeup you had on definitely was ruined. The anxiety of the confession burns through your body, followed by the lightheadedness of the relief. If you don’t get out of here soon, you’re definitely going to pass out.

“You’re in love with me?” All you can do is nod.

“I’m so sorry-” Satoru cuts you off. More specifically, his lips are what cut you off, and it takes you a full second to register that Satoru Gojo was kissing you. When the second did register, you’re quick to follow through. Hands finding his chest, and slowly up to his hair. His lips taste like whatever fruity seltzer he’d been drinking before, but they were as soft as they always looked. Slowly, but surely, the anxious and timid kiss grew needy and feverish. Somehow, your back is pressed against the fridge, and you’re clawing at both his shirt and hair. Satoru’s no better; his hands are focused on keeping you close, but his foot kicks your legs apart enough to slot his thigh right against you. Lips locking slower and messier each time, both of you practically out of your mind.

A loud thud is what pulls you away from the rather starving man in front of you. You don’t realize how desperate you were for air until you see how heavy you’re breathing. Satoru just kissed you. You two just made out. He has you pressed against his fridge because you two were making out. Sixteen-year-old you is probably somewhere losing her mind right now.

Before you can question what that noise was, Toru is pulling your face back towards him. He’s holding himself a few inches away, close enough that if you could lean and close the gap, you would, but far enough for Satoru to keep you back.

“You love me?” The question barely comes out above a whisper. You attempt to nod, but his hand keeps your head from moving. “Uh uh. I need you to say it.” His words are quick, but soft, like he’s afraid to break the moment with his need to hear you say the four simple words, so you do.

“I love you, Satoru.” His brows scrunch together like the words almost hurt him. “Are you okay with that?”

“What do I have to do to keep you here?” Maybe it’s the blood coming back to his head, but his question catches you off guard. 

“Huh?”

“What do I have to do?”  he repeats, “to make sure you don’t stop loving me, Y/N?” You can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous he sounds.

“I could never stop loving you, Satoru.” His eyes finally open to meet yours. He obviously was both amused and upset by your answer.

“Just tell me anything. I need you not to leave again. It’ll kill me.”

“Gojo. That’s not funny.” You try to move back to emphasize your seriousness, but the now warm stainless steel presses back against you.

“I’m not joking. I can’t have you leave again. I’ve been waiting since the day I met you for you to tell me you feel the same. If you leave me now, I don’t think my body can withstand that. So please.” Your eyes widened. 

Gojo loves you back.

He’s been waiting on you this whole time, as you had. Two idiots dancing around the fact that you both were hopelessly in love with the other. You’re so happy you could cry, and the tears do start to come, but Satoru squeezes your jaw, pulling your attention back to him.

“Tell me what I need to do to make sure you don’t leave me again.” You try to think of anything, but you keep drawing a blank, until that stupid hunk of metal shines over Satoru’s shoulder. Your entire body freezes up, and you feel that irrational anger coming back.

“Get rid of the bike. That thing almost took you from me.” He looks behind him briefly before snapping back to you.

“Deal.” Before he can open his mouth to say another word, you’re putting your lips back on his, dragging him back to you. Just like a perfect match, it feels like second nature to kiss Satoru. He knows just where to put his hand without getting into deep water. Just a row of deep, slow kisses, until you go to pull him closer and he does the same. Leaving you to grind harder than expected on his thighs, a pathetic moan tumbling out of you. Satoru breaks the kiss, bright blue eyes peering down at you in shock. 

“Sorr-” His hands drag your bunched-up dress across his thigh again, forcing another breathy moan out of you. 

“You sound better than I could’ve ever imagined, and I’ve imagined a lot.” He does it again, this time flexing this strong muscle, making you fall forward in a shudder.

“Tell me what you’ve imagined?”

“Oh, my god.” The heat between your thighs builds as you gleam under Satoru’s gaze and shamelessly ride his thigh. “This. Turning you on. Making out. Making you feel good.” The way his soft lips lightly trail down your neck, kissing between the confessions. It’s dirty and pulls another moan from you. Grinding down on his thigh shamelessly harder this time. “Making you cum for me, and just for me. Over and over, just like how I’m going to now.” 

It’s pathetic how much you’re chasing your own orgasm, but the high of the confession is lighting every nerve in your body on fire. He smells good, he tastes good, he feels good, and he’s all yours. As if he reads your mind, he presses his thigh into you, practically lifting against the fridge. 

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Satoru.” You pant, eyes rolling back in your head, at a particularly rough drag. “I’m so close. Oh my-”

He snaps his thigh from you, and it practically hurts. You chase the feeling of the rough denim material, only for him to press your hips into the fridge. Pulling you into a sloppy kiss, tongues lazily meeting, almost your dying protest. You try to get his attention even though you could barely focus, by pulling his hair, but it just makes him moan unashamedly, hands squeezing at your waist. When he finally pulls away, his eyes are so low you’d think he was high if it wasn't for the obvious blush across his face or the swollen, spit-covered lips. He stares at your eyes, slowly bouncing between your lips and your eyes, questioning something.

“I was so close.”

“I know. I heard.” You’re sure your blush is now matching his. His chest shudders with anticipation. “Can I ask you a big favor?” At this point, you’re convinced you’d do anything for this man.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll get rid of the bike if you get on it.” Scratch that. You’d do anything but get on Satoru’s once highway ticket to death. 

“No.”

“Y/N-”

“No! I’m not letting you take me out on a ride. I hate that stupid bike.”

“We’re not going out. I just-” His eyes avert from yours, looking up at that garage ceiling. Are his ears turning red? “-I just want you to get off on it.” A beat of silence passed, and then another. By the time the fourth passes, Satoru closes his eyes and swallows in obvious embarrassment.

“What?” How the hell does one get off on a motorcycle? Let alone one that tried to kill your best friend?

“It would be in park! You wouldn’t have to go anywhere, but here. It’s a thing I’ve had for a while, and I dunno...” He rambles on and on before he finally looks back at you with an absolutely hopeless look in his eye. Past the point of pleading, this is his entire ego on the line. 

“Is it something you really want?” He nods before the sentence ends. You think long and hard about it before looking in his eyes and sighing. You’re just as hopeless as he is. “Fine, but don’t be hurt when this doesn’t end up working.” His entire body lights up with a new vigor, arms wrapping around you and lifting you easily over the bike. You knew Satoru was strong, but he lifted you like it was nothing, which shouldn’t be possible after all his body had gone through.

You’re pressed against the metal head of the bike, thanking your earlier judgment that you wore a skirt. Satoru looks like he’s about to explode from just staring at you sitting on the damn thing. He swallows hard again—it’s kinda cute. His eyes are locked on where your panty-clad cunt is meeting the cold black metal.

“Satoru?” You squirm at the intensity of his stare.

“Right, m‘sorry. You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this. I thought it would never happen.” His eyes finally look at yours, softening when he sees the worry in your eyes. “If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to.” You mull it over for a second before letting the fear creep in. 

“No. I want to do this for you.”

“Jesus, don’t say that.”

“But I do. I want to recreate every little fantasy you have about me locked away.” Satoru shuts his eyes and drags a hand down his face, bringing a cocky grin to your face. You’ve always liked teasing Toru. He shakes his head in some form of restraint before narrowing in on the start.

“If you’re uncomfortable at any point or want it to be over, you tell me, and I’ll toss the thing to the curb faster than you can blink.” He’s serious, and it is sweet enough to warm your heart and ease your nerves, but you can’t help but giggle at him. “You ready?” You give him a small nod, and the engine revs, filling up the garage. 

Your question about how one gets off on a motorcycle gets answered as soon as the metal rattles against your swollen clit. Immediately, your body slumps forward.

“Oh my god-” The vibrations are so strong, you know your entire body is shaking with the bike. It feels so good. It feels even better when you lift your eyes to see Satoru staring down at you like you just set off his world. Another strong vibration has you loudly moaning. There’s no way you’re not going to cum fast. “Satoru, it's so good.” 

“Yeah?” You nod, unable to say anything that’s not an incoherent mess. How you two can hear each other over the loud ass engine is a miracle you’re not going to question. This stupid motorcycle is pushing closer to an orgasm than you’ve been able to bring yourself to in months. The harsh shift of the metal against your clit is too much; you’re too sensitive, forcing you back searching for some reprieve, but Satoru is quicker. “Nuh uh. Don’t run from it, baby.” 

Oh, he’s an evil son of a bitch. Hands forcing your hips to grind hard into the rapidly shaking metal, leaving you with no escape. You reach out to grab his wrist, hoping it would alleviate the pressure, but it doesn’t. 

“Want you to cover it, baby. Need you soaked so I can lick you clean and give you another one. So I can get you wet all again when I sink into that pretty pussy, and make you cum all over again.”

“Wan-ahh to fuck me, Toru? Oh fuck!” He smiles and wipes the thin line of drool you have yet to notice.

“Yes. More than anything. I think I can cum from just thinking about it. I’ve gotten off more times than I can count.” If you were in a better state of mind, you’d probably ask him why, but instead all you can say is—

“I’ve gotten off you, too, Toru.” It’s rushed, and there was definitely some kind of curse word thrown in there, but it works. Satoru’s ears are burning red, and his mouth is gaped open, hands slowing their motion to a teasing rhythm. “Ngh- All the time.”

“Tell me more.” His words are just as quick as yours. “Y/N, please tell me more.” You’re trying so hard to focus on him and his words, but the way Satoru keeps pushing you into the vibrations is making you want to tip your head back and ride out the feeling that’s starting to cool in you. One of his hands holds your face, forcing you to look at him.

“I- I think about you touching me, Toru.” It’s all you can manage.

“Like how I am now?” You nod, or nod as best as you can in Satoru’s grip.

“Think about how good your hands feel when you touch me. H-oh, how- they’d feel better in me.”

“Want to know what I think about when I’ve gotten off to you?” You’re quick and eager to nod. “When we were sixteen, the first time I ever saw you in a real swimsuit, I wanted to lay you on my bed and eat you out until you were begging me to stop. I think I fucked my hand raw to the thought of it.” Your eyes widen at the confession. You’re sure there’s a huge sopping mark on the metal, from how wet you were.

“I still had braces-”

“And they were cute. You’ve never not been beautiful. There’s never been a moment when I haven’t thought you were beautiful.” What? The rush of emotions fills you, almost over-taking the lust-hazed brain you had. The tears in your eyes are becoming more out of the random sincerity, than the overwhelming pleasure between your legs. 

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“Yes.” He’s quick with it. Mouth dropping right on your pulse point, and dragging his way to your ear. “Always will. Thought you were beautiful the first time I met you. I thought you were beautiful when you gave me that pity dance at prom. I thought you were beautiful at graduation. I think you’re beautiful now, riding my motorcycle in an inch of your life, and I know you’ll be beautiful when I take you upstairs and fuck you full.”

Everything is too much. His cologne, the sweetness of his words, the filth rolling off his tongue, the battering of the shaking metal against your clit. It’s no surprise when your vision starts to go white.

“S-Satoru. I’m gonna-”

“Yeah? You want that?” You’re nodding dumbly, as to be expected by now. “Baby, you’re dripping off the bike.” Were you? Oh well. “Gonna let me clean you up with my tongue before I take you inside and show you everything I’ve wanted to do to you for years?”

“Oh my god, Satoru.” Your hand flies on the bike onto one of Satoru’s forearms for leverage. Nails digging into his skin so hard that it would surely leave marks.

“I know, baby. Just say yes for me. You can do that, c’mon.”

“Yes-fuck. Yes! Please.” His face lifts from your ear, blue eyes focused on your face in just enough time to watch you fall over the edge. Eyes rolling back, mouth hanging open, surely nothing but obscenities and Satoru’s name coming out. You don’t know if you’ve ever cum this hard in your life, but it just won't stop. It’s probably embarrassing how pathetic you look on Satoru’s bike, the same bike that you hated for so long. That now you probably hate just a little bit less.

By the time you’re coming down, the motorcycle is off, and Satoru is peppering sweet kisses up the side of your neck. The sweetest of words leave him that are barely being comprehended. His face finally comes into view again, albeit a little hazy.

“You did great, baby.” That signature Satoru smile was there again, pointed at you. It felt great, almost better than that insanely strong orgasm you just had. You hadn’t realized just how desperately you needed a Satoru Gojo smile aimed at you until you finally got it again. The music inside the house cuts through the moment.

“Satoru, the party-” His hands leave your face, swinging your body towards him before he drops to his knees. 

“It can wait.”

“Satoru-”

“I distinctly remember someone telling me I have a mess to attend to, and from the looks of it, I got a lot to clean up.” Curse Satoru and his height. There’s no way any normal man could get on his knees and still be taller than his bike, but Satoru Gojo has never been normal. His slow kisses up your still quivering thighs make you also want to forget the party. Hell, if you could make everyone in this house disappear right now, you would.

“Everyone is inside.” He leans in closer, with another sloppy kiss.

“I’m aware.” His breath tickles the inside of your sensitive thighs.

“Everyone wants to celebrate you.”

“They’ll want to celebrate me later.”

“Satoru, it's your birthday.” You hate the way your voice wavers.

“I’ll have other birthdays, but since it’s my birthday, why don’t you let me have my gift?”

“Be serious.” Satoru’s eyes flicker up to yours, a look so stern it snatches the air out of you. He is being serious.

“If you don’t want to do this, I will walk away right now, happily. I’d never make you do something or do something to you that you don’t want, but I’m not leaving unless you and you alone don’t want me.” The intensity in his voice makes a shiver go down your spine. “Because right now, Y/N, I couldn’t care less about this damn birthday party.” 

That throb in your heart gets mistranslated somewhere down in the pussy, because you’re practically inching your lower half closer to Satoru’s face, forcing him to be face to face with your soaked panties. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” Satoru’s eyes glistened over as he'd just seen something amazing. Before you can say anything, he pulls your legs closer and further apart before slotting his face right against your core and taking a deep inhale. Only to let out the most pathetic moan ever. “And you smell so good. Wonder if you taste just as good?”

You practically jolt at the long drag of Satoru’s tongue against your covered pussy. The sensation was almost too much; you’re still so sensitive from your orgasm from just a few minutes prior. Here he was eating you out through your panties like a madman.

“T-Toru!” Your body tenses at the unabashed groan he lets out, against you. When his mouth latches against your clit, sucking the sensitive bud, you damn near scream his name out. Your hands find their way into his messy white locks, tugging harder than you meant to.

“Haa— do it again.” Oh, Satoru was overly freaked out. His sharp nose catches your clit perfectly, long tongue stuffing itself into your core through the cloth, sure enough, your hands are pulling Satoru’s pale hair again, earning yourself a pathetic moan from him. 

“T-Toru, are you, shit- gonna take them off?” Without a word, he yanks them down like he’s crazy. The fanning of hot breath against your core makes you twitch. He pulls away slightly enough before dragging two fingers through you; the loud pop of your wetness is almost deafening against the muffled music. You watch him gather your sex all down his fingers, watching your previous orgasm damn near run down his wrist before he drags his eyes to yours, and puts the fingers in his mouth.

Your jaw unhinges at the sight. Satoru Gojo is lapping at his fingers, greedily sucking and making out with them. Pale skin flushed, eyes so hazed over they could be mistaken for black, moaning like a porn star over the taste of your pussy. His other free hand comes down to palm himself over the jeans that seem way too tight for him, eyes rolling back. It was almost like he was alone, but it was you he was tasting. It was downright pornographic and depraved, and it was severely turning you on. Your body is turning into a furnace from how hot the scene made you. 

This would be an image that would stick with you forever.

“Fuck you taste perfect. You are perfect.” Is he…pussy drunk?

“Satoru…are you okay?”

“Yes.” He pops the digits out of his mouth. “Gonna be better after I eat this pussy, and get her all ready and stretched for me.” Satoru’s mouth is back on you before you can do anything. If his hands hadn’t already locked your legs back into place, you surely would’ve fallen off the bike.

Satoru was starved. Lewd slurps fill the air enough to make your ears hot in embarrassment and pleasure. Satoru could’ve sworn he was in heaven.

That he ever actually got out of that hospital bed, and died right there on the table, but the very real sounds of your pretty moans, the feeling of your twitching legs around his head, the addictive taste of your wet cunt, it was all too real to be fake. So much better than all the filthy fantasies he had stored in his head for years. If the perfect rough drag of his scarred lips right before they latch to your clif again didn’t get you, then the feeling of his fingers pressing against your opening will.

“Toru, I’m s-so sensitive.” If he heard you, he didn’t say anything, instead letting out a high-pitched, muffled moan against your core that has you shutting your eyes. When those pretty fingers you’d always wished were in you instead of yours were, it takes everything in you not to ride them, as the work past the ring of muscle, stretching you so good.

Satoru is so close to cumming his pants. You’re just as fucking warm and wet as he knew you’d be, and it’s driving him insane. Well, he’d already gone insane when he watched you cum on his bike, eyes rolling back with his name on your swollen lips. If he were any less of a man, he would’ve gotten it on camera and watched it over and over again, have it etched into every part of his body until his wrist snapped in half, every fleshlight he owned was battered, and his dick fell off.

Squelch.

Squelch.

Squelch.

You had the nosiest fucking pussy, and it was making him weaker with every push of his fingers that you cunt greedily swallowed.

“Satoru, you eat it so good.” Had you even meant to say that? No, but Satoru was both so happy and angry when you said that. Happy because you couldn’t keep yourself together enough to keep those inside thoughts inside. He was eating it good; he had been practicing for this day since he found a stray thong you accidentally left at his dorm years ago. He put it on a Fleshlight and taught himself how to eat your pussy. Making his jaw ache until he knew that he’d have you crying out for him to stop because it was too good. Almost cumming in his pants the first fifteen times. 

Now that’s why Satoru’s angry. All those fantasies don’t live up to the real thing. He could only imagine what you would say to him in those moments, but you’re here in real life, saying all the dirtiest words he could’ve prayed for. He knew how not to cum in his pants when practicing, but the real thing, oh, it was too much. Which is why he practically sobs into your soaked core, mouth, and fingers, desperately picking up speed to hide the way his hips pathetically fucked up into the tip of dangling foot for any kind of pressure like some ravaged animal.

“Hnng-ah fuck! Are you b-breathing?” Satoru Gojo couldn’t care less about air. He could go back on a ventilator for all he cares. He needs to make you come as soon as possible. His tongue circled your clit, desperate to hear those tantalizing sounds leave you. You were practically dripping down his wrist. When his long fingers graze that sweet spot, that’s when it unravels. “Satoru, I’m gonna-” You try to pull him away, tugging at his hair only for him to smack your hand away and push even further into you. 

He needed to make you cum more than anything right now, and he’ll be damned if you don’t cum on his face after he worked so hard.

“So good, so good, so good, I’m- cumming. Satoru, I’m gonna-” Right over the edge you went again. This time, with so much intensity, you think you actually do black out. Satoru doesn’t dare let up, his eyes roll to the back of his skull, watching the thin line of drool hang from your lips as your head tilts back. Wet patch in pants growing as stream after stream of cum leaves his weeping cock right as your foot presses down in uncontrolled pleasure. Obscenely loud, moans escaping you both like you’re getting ready to fuck on camera. 

It takes you, silently begging, and both of your hands to get Satoru to come off your poor, battered pussy. Neither of you says a word, just desperately staring at one another, breathing heavily. Satoru’s face is almost completely red except for the beige scars that almost look pink against his skin. Eyes low like eating, you put him in a daze. The entire lower half of his face is soaked, soft lips puffy and glistening, just begging to be kissed. Though you’re not fully down, after waves of your orgasm are still hitting you, you can’t help but lick your lips.

“Don’t.” Satoru’s voice is hoarser and deeper than it was when you two first walked in here. Something about him was laced with lust and want. It sent sparks down your body. He sounded so fuckable.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t lick your lips like that. Don’t look at me like you’re starving for me. I can’t-” He takes in a shuddering breath like he’s barely holding on before he pops up. One hand pulling you by your throat for a kiss, making you taste yourself on him, and damn, do you both taste good. Satoru’s hands are the only reason why your wobbly legs haven’t given out from underneath you.

Sloppy kisses that end with loud smacks, an inappropriate amount of whining, and the need to touch everything you could. The scene was enough to make someone look away in embarrassment. You two are stuck on each other, obsessed even. You pull away when the air supply runs out, shivers going down your body. 

Have you ever been this turned on? The answer is obviously no. Even fantasizing about Satoru wasn’t enough to get you like this. Satoru has that effect on you.

“I can't resist you.” Seems you have the same effect on him. He can’t help but get a couple more small kisses in before trailing down your face again. “Are you okay?” Satoru’s voice is soft; it's almost sickening.

“I can barely feel my legs.” He laughs, eyes crinkling at the end. He’s still your Satoru.

“That’s a problem.”

“I know, how am I going to walk back in there without looking stupid?” Without so much as a grunt (or a warning), you’re being lifted off your feet, body held bridal style with no ease.

“Nah, I mean you shouldn’t be able to walk at all. Guess I got to fuck that mobility out of you?” Your hand swats his chest like an impulse. Cheeks feel as if they could turn red. He makes quick steps to get inside, but before he can open the door, you stop him. 

“Everyone is still inside.”

“Then they’ll get out.” He says it like it's obvious.

“Satoru.”

“I’m serious. They’ll either get out, or they’ll hear us. I don’t care about them right now.” He’s insane. That accident took all the common sense out of his head.

“Sat-” It’s too late, the garage door flies open, and you close your eyes, hoping the dark lights hide your ruined makeup, disheveled dress, and loose ponytail. The music doesn’t stop, neither does Satoru, but he does laugh.

“You can open your eyes; no one is here.” What?

You do open your eyes only to be met with the fact that a single soul is in the house. Not even any on the balcony like they were before.

“Wait, does that mean-”

“Now we really don’t have to be quiet.” Satoru doesn’t even pay attention to the empty room, circling the apartment to find his bedroom. He doesn’t even bother closing the door behind him, making quick strides with you in his arms before he gently tosses you on the bed. He’s almost immediately taking his clothes off, blue eyes almost glowing in the darkness of the room. Satoru practically rips his black shirt off his body before he goes for the belt.

“Wait.” His eyes widened in fear, halting immediately. “Can I take them off?” You think the question might’ve killed him because he stares at you in shock before nodding his head like an idiot. He’s rushing over to the side of the bed, and he has to hold his smile back when he watches you struggle to balance your weight on your knees.

Yeah, he needs one more round.

The moment you get your hands on the belt, it’s over. Heat zaps down Satoru’s spine. As crude as it sounds, he’s never had you this close to his dick before. He doesn’t know just how long he’d last if you were even to stare at it long enough. Before he can bring himself to tell you to stop, you’re already pulling his pants down, damp boxers on display.

“Did you-”

“Yes.” He answers embarrassingly too fast. 

“You got off eating me out?” That blush creeps up Satoru’s neck all the way up to his ears.

“Yeah, I’ve gotten off from your perfume lingering in my bed.” He hadn’t meant to say that, but it makes your jaw unhinged enough to flash another sinful image through Satoru Gojo’s head. Making him visibly twitch.

“You’re such a perv, Toru.” The words are meant to be mean, but in all actuality, you’re not any better. The number of times you’ve gotten off to his cologne being stuck in your passenger side seat belt is one too many for you to admit. You shift closer, planting a kiss on his tip through his boxer, making his hips buck into your mouth.

“Don’t.”

“You can get a taste of me, but I can’t get a taste of you?” You drag your tongue across his print and the damp patch, watching his mouth drop slightly, a coy hum on your lips. “That’s unfair, don’t you think?” Toru nods dumbly, body unconsciously leaning into you. “Can I go down on you, Toru? I’ve thought about it so much.”

“Yes. Fuck yes, please.” Satoru knows this is a bad idea. He cannot cum again before he has sex with you, but as he made clear earlier, he can’t say no to you. So when you pull down his boxers only for his dick to smack right against his stomach pulling a weak moan from him, he just prays he has it in him to pull you off before he comes down your throat.

“Toru-” You’re in utter shock. Satoru’s dick is big. Not just big, it’s humongous, he’s fucking hung. No wonder he was so arrogant all the time; he had the size to back it up. “You’re so big.” There’s enough lubricant from his previous orgasm for you to stroke him comfortably.

“Fuck, you can’t say that.” He twitches in your hand as you let the spit from your mouth dribble down his oh so sensitive, bright red tip. He was so cute under your hand, slightly bucking up into your hand unknowingly. 

“But you are, and it’s so pretty.” Satoru Gojo loved to be praised. Any person with working eyes could tell you that. “Need to taste it.” You don’t let him say anything before you kiss the tip, earning a soft whimper from him. 

So he does whimper? Good to know.

One torturous, slow lick after the other has him clenching his fist by his side until they look like they’re going to pop. When you finally take him in your mouth, every thread in him snaps. Hands find purchase around the back of your head. He was right, you guys don’t have to worry about being quiet anymore. He’s practically moaning like a bitch in heat at every bob of your head. You’re not much better, loud slurps filling the room if it’s not your own pathetic moans around him. 

“Shit! I’m- you feel so good-ahh. Hnng- please don’t stop.” Like you would ever, Satoru Gojo has you wrapped around his finger just as much as he’s wrapped around yours. You’re practically dripping all over his sheets at every thrust, gagging a moan every time he tip hits the back of your throat. Spit spilling at the corners of your lips like the Satoru only slut you are. Watching his eyes roll to the back of his head, his chest rise at a sharp breath, the way your name rolled off his tongue. It was breathtaking being the one to make Satoru Gojo fall apart like this.

Just a little more, and he’ll cum down your throat just the way you wanted. Your hand that was absent mindedly drawing rough circles on your clit, moves to cup his spit-covered balls, fondling them gently. The change made Satoru stop with a particularly rough thrust to your throat and rather loud broken whine. One hand gripping your hair with a tight lock, and the other holding your throat in place. His tilted head comes back down, his chest erratically heaving as he gives you an almost pained look.

“Don’t do that.” It’s quick, and thought it didn’t sound as assertive as it was meant to be you pause befoe pushing your luck, moving your hand again, which makes Gojo thrust forward again, a loud gag coming from you, your hand constricting your throat. His other hand knocked yours away. He looks almost lost, torn as he works your throat over him. “I’m not cumming anywhere that’s not inside of you. If you do that, I’ll cum all over your face and waste all of it. We wouldn’t want that now?”

Satoru was so close to coming that the corner of his vision started to turn fuzzy. If he hadn’t stopped when he did this night might’ve taken a different turn. Mouth still full of his cock you shake your head no, eyes hazed over in your own lust. He painfully removes himself from your mouth, cussing himself out internally the entire time. It’s taking everything in him not to pull your warm, wet, hot mouth back over here and fuck it raw. 

“Take the dress off.” You scramble to pull the dress over you, moving to the middle of the bed and tossing it somewhere into the abyss. “You’re so good for me, baby. I love it.”

“Yeah?” Oh yeah, you’re gone. Who wouldn’t be looking at Satoru’s perfect body, even if all scared up, he’s still undeniably sexy. “You’re so good for me, Toru.” His weight shifts the mattress as he makes his way over to you. 

“I always want to be good for my girl.” His hands grab your ankles, pulling you. towards him. “Need to fuck you good.” That fucked out look on his face is all you see before he’s pushing your hands into the mattress for another sloppy makeout. You could kiss Satoru forever. His tongue knows just what way to lock with yours in the most lewd way, like he was made to kiss you. He pulls back, grabbing the base of his dick, which his hand could barely fit around.

He slowly glides his jerky cock through your wetness, making you both twitch. Saying nothing but watching it slip through and gather more lubricants, the tip hitting your abused clit so sinfully it made your jaw drop.

“She’s so messy.” You couldn’t care less what he was babbling about right now. You just needed him to put it in already.

“Stop teasing Toruuu.” You whine only to get a cocky grin from him. He was letting up, picking up the pace, to watch you squirm. 

“You want it that bad-oh.” All that squirming managed to slip the tip in, stopping you both. The smile is wiped clean off his face. Instead, one of awe replaces it as he watches himself fuck the same inch into you, sensitive head trapped between your warm, gummy, wet walls. “You- you- feel so-”

“Yeah, bet it would be better if you actually fucked me.” His eyes meet yours with a hard glare. 

“Count.”

“What- oh my god.” Your mouth forms a ‘o’ as he sinks more into you.

“Count. C’mon, my smart girl can tell me how. How many inches are in her right?”

“T-Two.” 

“There we go.” He pushes in more, holding back on his bodily urges that are telling him to quit with all the teasing, but he can’t.

Three follows with four, five with six, and by the time you’re at the last two inches, you’re practically shaking. There’s a line of drool hanging from Satoru’s mouth like he’s gone completely brain dead, eyes not disconnecting from where you two meet, like he’s hypnotized.

He is hypnotized.

“Just two more, baby.”

“Eight-ngh Satoru, please. I can’t!” Your body burned at the stretch. No one’s been as big as Toru.

“No. You can.”  You let out a high-pitched whine when he finally bottoms out.

“Nine! Fuck Satoru, I’m so full.” Those words bounce off deaf ears. Satoru is falling off this plane of existence; the only thing keeping him grounded is the clench of your core around him, sending shivers down his spine. When he doesn’t move, you call his name, only to hear a muffled moan into your neck. It takes pulling him out of your neck to see what’s happening, finally.

He’s so fucked out he’s not comprehending right. His blue eyes are crossed in pleasure, line of spit rolling down to his thick neck, shaking body completely flushed red.

“Pussy so good. It’s gonna kill me.”

“Toru, I need you to move.”

“I can’t. Need a second. It’s too good.”

“Toru, please, I want you to fuck me. Need you to fill me up.” It’s those words that put Satoru out of his daze, or at least his body out of its daze. His hips roll into yours with a sinfully quick pace. His hands roam your body, trying to find something to feel. 

“Want me to cum inside?” He grumbles in your ear with another fast snap of his hips. “Want me to fuck you full?” You nod as best as you can, mouth hanging open with pathetic noises coming from you, and another lewd squelch comes from you. “I think this pretty pussy wants that too. Just listen to her.” 

Nothing but the nasty wet smacks filling the room makes your ears burn. 

Plap, Plap, Plap.

“She’s practically begging me to pump her full of my cum. She’s so good. She’s so fucking addictive. So much better than anything I’ve used.” You’re half paying attention to him. More focused on how deep his dick is in you. Every thrust feels like the air is getting snatched from you in the best way. Besides, you’re not too far behind him in sounding incoherent.

“Toru, it’s so deep-ngh. I-hic” Were you crying? “Fuck don’t stop. Please don’t, don’t, don’t.”

“Wouldn’t fucking dream of it. Your pussy is so good to me, you’re so good to me.” One of his hands comes down, forcing your legs to wrap around his shoulders. “I need to fill you. Need to fuck you good. Need it. Need it. Fuck I need it.” The new angle, the stretch, the pressure, it has you seeing stars, and when Satoru hits that one spot, your entire body tenses. 

Something’s different.

“Oh my god, Satoru!”

“Right there?” He whines out, head reeling back every time he hits that spongy spot inside. You nod, fat tears rolling down your body, it’s almost too much, but before you can even think about Toru’s already pinning your hips. “Don’t you dare think about running from me. Waited too long for this, for you.” Each bed shaking brutal smack brings you closer, but something is different. 

More intense, it’s deeper. It makes your entire body tremble. 

“Sssatoru I- something feels-” 

“Nuh-uh. That’s not my name.” Fuck he’s hitting it so good you may not be able to tell him. Your back is starting to arch in, tasting your release, which makes your vision come in and out.

“Baby! Something’s different! I’m-” Your cut off entirely by the smack of Satoru’s fingers against your clit, making you jolt in pleasure. You’re so close.

“Don’t call me that. That’s not what you call me. You want to cum, you want me to fill you up so good you’ll be dripping me for days? Then you call me by- FUCK-” Your cunt clenches around him, making his head pop from your ear to the air, making him look at you. He’s just like you—unfocused eyes, pathetic moaning, completely fucked out and pussydrunk to your dickmatized. “You-you call me by my name.”

“T-t-t-” You’re right there.

“C’mon, be good for me and say it.”

“Toru! I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-” His fingers come down in a harsh rub of your throbbing clit, and you’re gone. Your warning is a faded memory of the past, as the tremors of your orgasm take over. Vision completely gone, ears ringing, in what is the strongest orgasm of your life, given to you by none other than your childhood best friend.

“Oh, my god.” Satoru watches you spray the entirety of the sheets beneath you, his hand, lower stomach, and most importantly, his cock. Never in his wildest dreams did he think watching the girl he loves the most squirt all over would happen, but when it does, it hits him like a bag of bricks. Making him cum so hard he slumps forward, letting out the most pornographic cries, eyes almost shut as he watches his seed mix in with your cum, and it sends lightning down his spine. “It won’t stop.” He doesn’t know who he’s talking about, but you still haven’t stopped. He fucks you through it, almost losing his fucking mind doing so, house full of sounds that would surely get him a noise complaint.

When you both come down from the mutual orgasms, neither of you dares to move an inch. Both of you are still shaking too hard to be fully conscious. It’s only when that tear hits your stomach that you start to come back. Satoru’s head is down, in shoulder trembling just like you.

“Toru?”

“Don’t move. I can’t- don’t move, please.” He sounded so weak, it damn near made your heart clench. “Listen, baby.” You almost yelp at the overstimulation when Satoru gives a few weak, shallow thrusts. A popping squelch rings through the room. “Sounds so beautiful.” 

“Satoru, come here.” He doesn’t hesitate, meeting your lips one more time, with the shakiest and sweetest kisses of the night. He gently pulls out, and you groan at the big loss. Missing the fill now that it’s gone. How were you ever going to get anything done now that you know what sex with the love of your life feels like? His head falls to your shoulder, making sure to keep his weight off you. It’s silent for a little while, you two bathe in the post-sex afterglow, until the question in the air rings too loud in your mind. “So what does this mean for us?”

“Don’t ask such dumb questions.”

“I’m serious-”

“I am too. You’re not going anywhere, Y/N. Whether that's you being my girlfriend or, preferably, my wife, you’re here to stay. I’m here to stay. We’ve spent too much time avoiding the obvious to be picky about what we are now. We’re in love. Simple.” His arms sling around you, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body felt grounding.

“I love you, Toru.” You declare for the umpteenth time.

“I love you, Y/N.”

It’s your phone that wakes you up from your deep sleep with your boyfriend(?) at what had to be noon. 

“Satoru.” You grumble against his chest, refusing to open your eyes.

“Ignore it.” He makes no effort to move. The ringtone faded for all of three seconds before it blares up again, making you sigh.

“I got it.” He pulls you against him again, weakly trying to hold you back. “Toru.”

“Fine.” He rolls over, allowing you to crawl over him to grab the blaring phone, but not before smacking your ass as you bend to do so. You shoot him a dirty look, and he shrugs. “What? It’s great ass, and it’s mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah, baby, that’s my ass, that's my pussy, that’s my heart, you’re my girl.” You have to bite back a smile at his words. The thought of finally being Satoru’s girl makes your chest all fuzzy.

“So does that mean that’s my dick and my heart?”

“You know it. Now I highly suggest you answer that phone, or else I’ll show you what else your dick can do.” You scoff, but it’s clear by the way your nipples perk up that you’re turned on. Satoru pulls you on top of him, pressing his half-hard dick against your bare cunt. Disregarding who can hear you two, as he kisses down your bare body. You press the accept button before you have half the mind to ride him and show him what his pussy can do.

“Hello?”

“Oh. My. God.” Geto and Shoko’s voices flood the other side of the phone. “This was better than we could’ve imagined.”

“What are you two going on about?” Satoru looks up at you through his pretty lashes, a confused look on his face.

“We called Satoru, not you.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Please tell me you two have finally sorted things out. I was plastered by the time Geto was kicking everyone out of the house.”

“I think they did more than just sort it out. I’m never touching that motorcycle again.” Your jaw drops in horror before Satoru grabs the phone from your hands.

“You two really need to get a life.” You make out the words “dumbass” on the other end of the phone. “Uh-huh. Anyway, I got some time to make up for. I'll talk to guys later.” He tosses the phone to the other side of the bed, pulling you closer to him. “Good afternoon, baby.” You giggle at his antics, heart swelling with joy. Everything feels perfect.

“Good afternoon, Toru.”

A/N: I wrote this over the cycle of two ovulation cycles...no regrets! I'm hella rusty too, this might be a mess potench. Also, this wasn't proofread... so my bad!

Plagiarism is NOT allowed.

[midnightfictionlibrary]

Ohhh I can’t wait to read this

[tojioffline]

I’m asking Genuinely here because I don’t know and I would rather hear from person experience than Google but Is tourette’s A reason to repeatedly call someone a pedophile? That happens quite a bit in Another server I am In. If they cannot control it Thsts one thing but It’s extremely uncomfortable not only for mi but Mulitole others. JJK writer

@ anons

[whispers-of-aurora]

Hi

I'm going to start by saying this post is heavy but it is important. Please share it.

Below the cut I talk about my tic disorder, motor tics, vocal tics, echolalia, corpolalia, and thoughts of depression

This is a post I didn't see myself having to make but apparently me opening up about my disorder and answering questions when asked didn't get through to some people.

I'm going to start this post off by saying I have a tic disorder. I have had tics since I was 2 years old. I was diagnosed with a tic disorder at 17. I am 21 in two days and have gotten to a point in my life where I am at peace with the fact that I have this disorder but seeing a post like that from someone who I must talk to regularly and therefore consider a friend is disheartening.

I was diagnosed with a tic disorder when I was 17 years old. So nearly 4 years ago. But I have had tics since I was 2.

You have no idea what it is like to never have full control of your body. You have no idea what it is like to never know what you are going to say or do or when you could lose control completely.

I have a part of my disorder that causes tic attacks as a trauma response to shit that I don't want to get into. This presentation as literal seizures.

I don't give a shit if you the person who sent this was just confused, they could've come to me as I have previously answered questions about my disorder to clear things up. But the fact that any of my friends could think that I was in anyway using my disorder as an excuse to make a joke is fucking disgusting. I have, in many cases, been left completely immobile because of these tics. I have been taken to the hospital with suspected broken bones because of these tics. I have been viewed as racist and homophobic and sexist because of words that I cannot prevent from coming out of my mouth due to what we believe to be corpolalia.

This disorder has truly put me in some of the worst places I could've ever been in. It put me on a medication that altered my brain chemistry so drastically that since coming off of it I have had to relearn how to respond to fight or flight signals. I was 17 and begging my parents to fix me. I was 17 with my 9th psychiatrist talking every week about how I needed to fix what I had done wrong to deserve this. I was 17 and I couldn't leave the house without a parent for risk of hurting someone. I lost all of my freedom and I won't ever get that back because I'm not free in my own body.

I was 17 and I would've been happy to not wake up again.

I still have days where I cant get myself out of the house because I am scared of saying something I can't control.

I've been on call in the server multiple times and had to mute or leave temporarily because I've hit my head on something and I need to check that I'm okay.

I would not and will not ever lie to make my disorder seem funny. Because it isn't. I sometimes say funny things, and call people pedophiles amongst other things (which didn't start in the server it started when I was 16 and I announced it in the store with my father and then cried all the way home). But the disorder as a whole is not funny and I never want someone to view it as such.

If anyone had doubts about my disorder they could've come to me. But instead someone ran to @tojioffline .

I have called one person in the server a pedophile as a tic. And I don't have to share who that is but I will. It's @fricks . There was no context behind this happening, it was something that I said in a call and immediately apologised for. Fricks and I talked so briefly and she said she understood and it did not offend her. I felt insecure about it so she helped make it a joke so that I wouldn't feel as awful.

That is truly the nicest thing that she could have done for me and I will forever be grateful because I felt extremely uncomfortable and she helped make me feel better again.

Now is it a weird joke to have as a server, yes absolutely. But whenever anyone asked I gave the context. Fricks is not a pedophile guys, don't go writing hate asks to her.

But again, if someone had a problem with this they could have told me and I would've stopped making the jokes.

I can mask my tics to a certain extent. I an force the words to stay back but they'll come out much worse later on. And when I first joined the server, I was doing that a lot because I didn't know people. But as I got more comfortable with the group I allowed myself to tic because holding it back is painful and exhausting and we were frequently having hours long calls.

The only people that these tics ever directly targeted have been @fricks @strawb3rryhachi and @lemonswirlss because I am extremely comfortable with these three people. I know that none of them are offended by my tics, and they've been nothing but compassionate.

Waking up and seeing this post sent to me hurt. I'm not going to lie and say that it wasn't. And I've posted about Tojioffline before we know my stance and I still agree that the anons are part of the problem.

But tojioffline is not a doctor. The anon who sent that clearly isn't either. It is not their place to speculate on someone's disability. And a blog that claims to be about JJK drama shoukd not be saying "@ anons" to spread misinformation about a disability.

This has been a heavy post and I'm sorry about that, but it's one that is very important to me.

[midnightfictionlibrary]

It is NEVER okay to speculate on someone’s disability, especially through a gossip blog. If you had questions, you could have asked directly. I am absolutely disgusted with tojioffline and the people sending in anons. Grow the fuck up.

[midnightfictionlibrary]

Contrary - Sanji Vinsmoke x F!Reader

Contrary - Sanji Vinsmoke x F! Reader

Content : angst, fluff, jealousy, light swearing, mentions of drinking/being drunk

Word Count : 1083

A/N : Here I am again, just coming out of nowhere with a new fandom to write for. Been seeing a lot of HCs that Sanji would still flirt with other women after being taken, but I think the opposite (he just needs someone to be serious about him ok)

Contrary to popular belief, as soon as Sanji had you, other women left his mind. Sure, he knows they're pretty, but something about you has Sanji watching every movement, attuning to every need. 

In short, he loves to make sure you're taken care of. 

That's why, when you enter the tavern on the rainy island, standing beside Nami, you freeze in your tracks. 

Cigarette dangling from his lips, that half smirk you know so well...and it's trained on a woman that's not you. A small, strange, strangled noise comes from your throat, and you immediately feel Nami's hand on the small of your back. 

You felt like the world was spinning, like the floor beneath you was going to give out. Breath catching, you spin on your heel and leave the tavern, right as Sanji looks up to see you. 

"Merde..."He mutters, moving faster than Nami had even seen him. He whizzes past Nami, the smell of smoke and spices whipping by as if he were in one of his cooking frenzies. 

You were walking down the cobblestone street, boots clunking on the stone. Your jaw was clenched, your steps heavy. You hear someone calling your name, and you try to speed up once you realize it's Sanji. 

"Damn it-" Sanji mumbles, finally catching your wrist and tugging you to a stop. You jolt a bit, unexpecting him to actually catch up to you. 

When you whip around, Sanji almost falters, not expecting to see your face bathed in such hurt. 

"Baby -"He says. 

"What?" You snap. "I know that stupid little smirk of yours that you get while you're flirting."You hiss at him. 

Sanji frowns, curly eyebrows pulling down in an expression unknown to you. "I wasn't flirting with her, I was telling her I was waiting for the most beautiful creature to walk this island -"

"Oh save it!"You cut in. "Do you forget that I know exactly how you are or used to be before we got together?" You cross your arms after pulling your wrist from his grasp. 

Sanji frowns again. "I...is that what you really think of me?" He asks you softly, a look of hurt running across his face. 

For just a moment, panic bubbles in your stomach. You never wanted to hurt him, but you were too angry to think straight at the moment.

Sanji softly releases your wrist, taking a step back. 

"Who....was that, then?" You ask, voice clipped. 

With a frown on his perfct lips, Sanji shrugs. "I dunno. She asked me to buy her a drink and I said no."He shifts his weight from one foot to another. "You can ask Mosshead."

You feel bad, suddenly, and your face burns with shame. "I-"You snap your mouth shut, embarrassed and upset with yourself. "I'm sorry." You mumble, turning your gaze from him. 

Sanji is still frowning. "I am too. I'm sorry it looked that way and I'm really sorry you don't trust me."

Your gaze snaps to his, quickly. "That's not -"

"Isn't it? You ran before I could even say anything, darlin'." He says, hands in his pockets now. "I thought I made it pretty clear how I feel about you, but I suppose you don't believe me." He says softly, eyes flickering to yours, searching your face for something you didn't know how to give him knowingly. 

"Sanji.." You say, unable to form a coherent sentence. Why couldn't you speak? You cursed yourself silently, upset that you couldn't say what was on your mind at the moment. 

"I...don't want to hear it. I'll see you on the Sunny." He says, voice a bit choked. Without another word, he walks away from you, leaving you stanfing in the street light's soft glow. 

Frowning, you return to the Sunny, rushing to your quarters and pacing immediately. What did you do? Did you just fuck up your relationship because you were being insecure? Sanji didn't deserve the way you snapped at him, and the fact that he told you to ask Zoro proved to you that he was speaking the truth. 

It wasn't until much later that you heard the boys return, laughing and stumbling. You give it a few moments, deciding to venture to the kitchen, where you knew Sanji would be. 

He was there, his back turned to you, scribbling furiously. He didn't seem to be drunk, but he was partaking in very aggressively writing the menu for the next day. You could tell by the way you could hear him muttering measurements. He heard you, before he saw you.

"What?" He asked gruffly. 

Usually, when you entered the kitchen, he immediately asked if he could get you something. The absence of the familiar question lets you know that you hurt his feelings. 

"Sanji.."

"Yes, what, angel?" Even upset with you, he still called you a pet name. That made you feel even worse. Nervously, you cross the kitchen, rounding the kitchen island to stand in front of him. He keeps his eyes trained on his menu, but you speak anyway. 

"I'm sorry." You rush out. "I saw you standing with that girl and thought of all the times before we were together that I saw you flirting in taverns and I got insecure. I'm not half as pretty as some of these women and I got so jealous seeing another girl who was obviously interested in you-"

Sanji stands abruptly, and your words falter. You watch as he rounds the kitchen island, large hands coming up to cup your face. 

"Contrary to the belief of everyone on this ship that I'm unable to resist flirting with everything that moves, all I see is you. I go to sleep thinking about you, I wake up thinking about you, I skip having as many cigarettes as I do, because of you. You are the center of my world. I plan the menu around things I know you like. Haven't you noticed that there haven't been any mushrooms in your dishes for weeks?" He asks. 

Your eyes flicker over his features. He looked so eager, so sweet. "I'm so sorry - so so sorry." You cry out, leaning up to pepper his face with kisses. "You're so sweet to me, I don't deserve kindness like-"

Once again, he cuts you off, kissing you softly. It's not heated,sloppy. It's a soft, reverent, adoring kiss. And it's just for you. 

Like all parts of Sanji now, it was just for you.

[midnightfictionlibrary]

i still get jealous - olderbf!toji x reader

cw : jealousy, teasing, attitude, public sex, fingering, satoru is annoying

olderbf!toji slows his steps as he leaves his car and walks towards the quad, because he spots you, the campus's top sorority's president, with one of those idiot frat boys.

olderbf!toji stops just at the edge of the quad, watching frat!jo flash a bright white smile at you as he leans on the table you were setting up. Backwards cap, sleeveless shirt, his biceps on display. olderbf!toji flexes his biceps unconsciously. not because he's jealous, no, of course not.

olderbf!toji watches as your pretty eyes flicker up to frat!jo, amusement dancing along your features. you place stacks of fliers for your sorority meticulously on the table, pretty manicured nails (that olderbf!toji paid for, thank you very much) shuffling them into neat piles.

olderbf!toji feels a weird tightness in his chest, a muscle in his jaw clenching, and his throat clicks when he swallows. his nostrils flare. but it wasn't jealousy. nope.his eyes trail your figure, from the blue baby tee you wore to the form fitting jeans, to how you styled your hair. you were tilting your head now, breasts brushing the edge of the table as you leaned forward towards the frat idiot.

olderbf!toji exhales sharply through his nose, the scar at the corner of his lip ticking down as he frowns. he crosses his arms, just as he sees that idiot frat!jo spot him at the edge of the quad with a lingering smirk.

frat!jo is leaning on the edge of your table, droning on and on again about how much you'd never regret going out with him. "c'monnnn pretty," he grins "whatever you want, you got it. you know i'd treat you so well."

when you look up at him with a raised eyebrow and an amused expression, you can't help but scoff. "shut the fuck up, satoru." you say, but you just earn another grin in response. you notice satoru look to the side, and you notice olderbf!toji standing at the edge of the quad. with a furrowed brow, you open your mouth to reprimand frat!jo again, when utahime finally shows up to take your place at the house table.

olderbf!toji's eyes narrow as you gather your things and begin to walk towards him where he stood. a large hand reaches out, taking your bag from you, and his other hand intertwines with yours.

olderbf!toji practically drags you back to the car, and your brow furrows. "toji, what's going on?" you ask him, but he doesn't answer. he easily opens the backseat, tossing your backpack in and opening the passenger door for you. you slide into the passenger seat, watching as toji rounds the front of the car and sits in the driver's seat.

olderbf!toji sits in silence a moment. then, he looks over at you. "you seemed to be pretty occupied with your frat boyfriend." he practically growls, beefy arms displaying prominent veins as his hands grip the steering wheel. You swallow.

olderbf!toji has you squirming now, your slender fingers clasping his wrist as he pops the botton on your pants and slides his hand in to find you already wet. he hisses, and you writhe. "'ji...someone is gonna see.."you mutter, pretty little eyes tracing up his arm to his face. he looks almost feral, and it sends a thrill down your spine.

olderbf!toji grunts in response. "don't care." he says, "maybe that frat dickhead will hear how you come apart all over my fingers, huh, ma?"he was circling your clit now, flicking it a bit harshly as you try not to whimper, covering your mouth with your free hand.

olderbf!toji smirks cruelly as he slides two thick digits into your waiting cunt, knuckle deep and curling just right. your breath hitches, and your head tilts back, bumping lightly into the headrest. "fuck, 'ji...i..." a broken whimper leaves you before you can finish the sentence.

olderbf!toji pumps his thick fingers in and out of your pussy with a nasty squelch, squelch, squelch. "yeahhh, that's my good girl,hm?" He whispers, leaning closer so he can whisper in your ear, giving you chills that roll down your spine. "whose pussy is this, baby?" he asks, voice low and sultry.

olderbf!toji can't help but smile as your hips begin to buck helplessly, and he can feel your walls start to suck his fingers in greedily. "yours - it's yours, toji. oh my god!" you gasp, back arching out of the passenger seat as your walls spasm around his fingers, your release coating his fingers.

olderbf!toji works you through your orgasm, murmuring reassurances. finally, he pulls his hand from your jeans, and when he looks up, he sees frat!jo staring. with a knowing smirk, olderbf!toji raises his fingers covered in your slick, and pushes them into his mouth, letting the white haired freak know exactly who you'll always belong to.

olderbf!toji puts on your playlist, pulling away from campus with one large hand resting possessively on your thigh, feeling the tremors that still consume you. he smirks, pulling his sunglasses over his eyes. ok...maybe he had been a little jealous.

| tags : @shnauwi

[midnightfictionlibrary]

Gimme Gimme More | Pegging your husband Nanami! || MDNI

cw || pegging, wife reader, strap on use

When you had first floated the idea to your husband, he had seemed skeptical. Ever the logical, calm one in the relationship, he told you he would think about it and let you know. 

You weren’t sure what exactly changed his mind, but you were standing at the foot of the bed, a smirk on your red paint lips at your hulking husband laid out face down, ass up, all for you. Dipping a knee into the mattress, you run a smooth hand up his thigh and over his perfectly round ass. 

“God, Ken…” You whisper, eyes roaming over his body. He shivers slightly, goosebumps appearing along the curves and ridge of his sculpted body. The straps of the toy you’re wearing dig into your thighs, and the slender, upward curve of the hot pink dildo had you wet, and you had barely even touched your husband yet. 

You grab a brightly colored tube of lube from the bedside table and apply it liberally on your fingers, swirling it around slightly before leaning over, pressing a chaste kiss to the base of Nanami’s spine. 

“Okay, love?” You ask him softly, and he wiggles slightly, peeking over his shoulder at you. 

“Mmm.” He affirms, giving you one of his devastatingly handsome smiles, one of the ones that were definitely the reason you were married now and in this position. You smile back, your free and unlubed hand rubbing a thumb reassuringly over his hipbone. 

“You tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” You say, raising an eyebrow at him. Nanami Kento was the type of husband to bear anything to make you happy, so you needed to give him this disclaimer. “Got it?”

Nanami nods once. “I understand you perfectly, baby.” He murmurs. 

You give him another quick kiss on one of his perfect ass cheeks, and begin to spread lube over his puckered hole. He hisses at the cool temperature of the lube, but quickly relaxes into your touch. You watch him closely, pushing one finger in slowly, past the tight muscle and into his walls. You bite your lip, waiting a minute. 

“Baby..” he whispers, voice strained. 

Your eyes snap to him immediately. “Need me to stop?” You ask, but his ass clenches slightly, and when you look down, his thick cock is already leaking at the tip. 

“N-no…need you to move.” He whispers, swallowing. You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs, and you bite down on your lip, trying not to smirk. Carefully, you begin moving your finger inside him, and he gasps, back arching slightly as he lets out a string of curses. 

“Fuck, fuck baby…please, love.” His voice sounds strangled, and you pause a minute. 

“Tell me what you need, baby. Be a good boy and tell me.” You whisper, voice low with arousal. You weren’t touching yourself and you were soaked, watching him squirm like this. 

“More. I need more…” He gasps, and you grin. 

“Yeah? You need more? Need me to give you more?’ You ask, voice taking on a teasing lilt that he’s used on you more times than you could count. Blonde strands stick to his forehead, and he whimpers. 

You slip another finger inside him, fingers scissoring to work him open for you. You pant a bit, swallowing to coat your dry throat. Kento looked so good like this, his face was flushed, plush lips glistening slightly from his incoherent curses. His hair was beginning to come ungelled, your professional, put together husband falling apart around your fingers. The sight had you coating the inside of the strap you wore with your slick, your folds puffy from the way you squeezed your thighs together tightly, walls fluttering and clenching around nothing. 

With your free hand, you squeeze more lube over Kento’s asshole, the squelch squelch squelch of his hole spurring you on. Nanami pushes his hips back into you, and your eyes widen. You weren't expecting him to be so into it, but here he was, squirming and writhing under you like you’re the only person that’s ever made him feel this much pleasure. Your eyes trail down again, burning with hunger when you see him stroking his girthy cock, the tip red and needy. 

It makes your breath hitch. “Please, Ken, let me put it in.” You whisper, free hand roaming over his ass, squeezing the plump flesh there as he lets out another whimpering moan. 

“Gimme…more.” He whimpers, eyes squeezing shut as he fists himself, long, languid strokes that have you eager to get him off even faster. Quickly, you raise to your knees, the silicone dildo attached to you bouncing slightly. You notch the tip at his hole, and now that he was nice and stretched from your fingers, you could tell he was ready to take you. Slowly, you push in, breaching him, and you wait a minute. 

“Good?” You breathe out, clit throbbing and pussy dripping from watching your husband’s pleasure. 

Nanami swallows, and slowly, he moves his ass back until he’s taken the dildo all the way. You were bottomed out, biting your lip as you watched him. 

A pretty pink blush dusted Nanami’s face, his cheek smushed into the pillow. His perfect brows were pinched together, arm still working steadily as he tugged at his cock. 

“Move. Please. I…need it.” He breathes out. “Feels s’good baby, I can’t -” His sentence is cut off with a sharp moan as you begin moving, rolling your hips as you drive the dildo in and out of his hole. You place your slender hands on his hips and give a sharp thrust, causing him to gasp, his hand working faster over his cock. 

The plap plap plap of skin on skin has you dizzy, and the strap on was starting to rub friction over your poor, neglected clit. You bite down a moan, working the strap a bit faster, watching as Nanami squeezes his eyes shut, frantically pumping his fist. 

“S’close. Oh, fuck, please keep going!” He cries out, and you take it as your sign to thrust faster, rolling your hips as his chest begins to heave, as he starts making little moans and whimpers the longer you impale him. 

“Fuck Ken, you’re taking my cock so well, you’re doing so good for me.” You whisper to him, rolling your hips, your own hipbones bouncing off that tight ass of his. 

You watch as his eyes roll back as you speak, and he lets out a prolonged moan. “Oh my fucking god, baby -” He gasps, and you feel him clench on the strap. Thick, sticky white ropes of cum shoot from his leaking red tip. And you? You can’t help yourself, you cum, hole fluttering around nothing, but the sight of your fucked out husband shooting warmth through your clit. 

You gasp. “Fuck, fuck, take it, take my cock -” You grunt as you ride out his orgasm. 

And finally, when he’s left a shaking, shivering mess, you slowly pull out, unstrapping yourself from the toy and climbing up the bed to lie beside him. A kiss lands on his bare shoulder, and he lifts his head, brown eyes meeting yours. 

“Good?” You ask softly, leaning in and nuzzling your nose against his. Kento smiles, throwing an arm over your waist and weakly tugging you closer. 

“Perfect.” He whispers back, settling into the plush of the bed, fucked out and utterly happy to have a wife that likes to try new things.

[midnightfictionlibrary]

rich but i’m broke - gojo satoru x reader

cw : mdni, major character death, angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship

a/n : so i hurt my own feelings writing this…hope you enjoy.

when you finally find him, you find him curled in over himself. his forehead almost touches the floor, and you stand there a moment, trying to gauge how to approach him. and then you hear the small sniffles coming from him, the whimper that tears itself from his throat. your own breath catches, and you take one step, then another, and another, until you fall to your knees beside him. hesitant, as if you were scared to touch him, your fingertips brush his shoulder blade. he lurches, as if you’ve burnt him with your touch. 

“don’t. please.” he whispers, a rasp coming from his throat, threading his voice into something almost unrecognizable. your hand drops back to your side, throat clicking as you swallow, eyes roaming over him. he was in pain, and you wanted to help. 

you watch him quietly for a moment, watching as those ice blue eyes flutter shut again. his hands shake, and it’s almost as if he can’t bring it upon his body to even move. maybe lurching away from you is the most moving he’s done in awhile. slow golden light pours in from an open window, dappling the floor with the shadows of leaves from trees. 

“what happened?” you whisper, folding your own body to lean down, trying to will him to look at you. you knew minor details. you needed to hear it from him. 

a moment of silence. you almost think he won’t answer you, but his breath catches on a phrase. “i - “ he swallows. tries again. “i ended it.” you know what he means. 

“baby…” you say softly, love and compassion entering your tone. the love of your life, bent over in grief and emotional turmoil after ending the life of his best friend. 

the tone of your voice makes his breath hitch, and you watch, almost awestruck, as tears hit the floor where he’s folded himself. you reach for him again, but he moves quicker this time. 

“don’t!” he snaps, and you frown, shaking your head. 

“satoru, i can’t leave you like this, i won’t -” 

he grabs your wrists, raising himself slightly to look at you. “don’t you get it? my hands, these two hands, killed my best friend. even after what he did, it hurts. all i am..” he lets out a watery breath, and your brows pinch together, tears crowding your waterline now. 

“all i am is a weapon. destructive.” he hisses, his voice raising slightly, his eyes snapping to yours finally. “who says i won’t lose my mind, won’t be able to take it anymore? won’t…won’t hurt you?”

“you won’t.” you whisper back automatically, without a thought or a doubt in your mind. 

he scoffs at that, releasing your wrists. “richest man this side of town and look at me. broken.” he whispers, tears flowing freely. 

you reach up, cupping his face. he tries to dodge you, but you hold him anyway. “shh, look at me. look at me, satoru.” you whisper fiercely. 

something in your voice makes him stop, one of his large hands sliding up to grip one wrist as he stares at you. 

“you did what you thought you had to. and nothing, nothing, will ever make me think of you as just a weapon. you are remarkable. talented. protective. you don’t do things just for the hell of it, baby. and i know it hurts. and i know it feels like you’re falling apart. but let me catch you, okay?” you say softly, thumbs running along his cheekbones softly, gazing at him. “i love you.” 

he stares at you a moment, processing your words, and lets out the most pitiful, vulnerable cry you’ve ever heard come from him, face slipping from your grasp to fold over, burying his face in your stomach, fingers clutching tightly at the fabric of your uniform as he wails. 

you bend over, kissing his head lightly, hands going through his hair to soothe him. you stay there until the golden light fades, until the crickets come out and there’s a chill in the air, anchoring the strongest when no one else can. 

[sixxels-deactivated20260420-dea]

fratboy!satoru and his pathetic crush on artmajor!reader || fluff! slightly ooc? *ೃ༄

satoru gojo’s history with women looked a little something like this.. 

slept with: 47 

dated: 0 

with such a stark difference in numbers, it was safe to assume the loser was a grade A slut with no sort of moral compass when it came to the self respect of him or his nighttime partners. 

prior to this very moment, satoru had no issue with these stats. the white haired freak knew where he stood with dating, and that was in the furthest corner away from the subject. nothing was able to change his mind on this whole debacle either, his whorish practices were pretty much set in stone and he’d thought it would stay like that until the day he died (or in the odd event in which he’d turn 40 and want to marry. very unlikely with the kinds of risks he took, but still.) 

so, each time a girl tried to become anything more than a quick hook up on the weekend, he’d turn them down almost as soon as the words left their mouths. politely, of course, but rejection all hurts the same. 

dating and satoru gojo? that was one big red no no. 

that was, until he’d caught a fleeting, glorious glimpse of you. 

for reasons unknown to anyone he’d fallen head over heels the second his blue eyes had landed on you one night at a sorority mixer. you just looked so different to his usual spectacle when it came to these stuffy parties. you looked like those girls you see once in a lifetime in the city and think about every day from that point on. 

“who the fuck is that.” he jabs his best friend suguru’s torso, jutting out his chin to point at you from across the room. 

suguru lifts his head and stares intensely, squinting his purple eyes. “nah i can’t see shit, man. need my glasses.” suguru huffs a laugh, and satoru groans. 

“oh, for god’s sake.” the lanky man curses and fishes around in his pocket for a second, then pulls loose his own reading glasses smacking them onto geto’s face. 

“ahh, i see,” 

“yeah well, now y’ do.” satoru rolls his eyes with a small scoff. “what’s her name?” 

“that’s [name], she’s in my course actually.” 

“shit, she does art?” 

“mhm, really good at it too. kinda jealous, i can’t lie.” the raven haired man nods. 

suguru starts rambling on about art shit and satoru stops paying attention at that point like he always does when his friend gets into the whole ‘art kid’ spiel. 

“right, sounds tough, man. do you have her instagram or somethin’?” he brushes suguru off, trying to make it seem as if he couldn’t care less despite hanging off of suguru’s answer. 

suguru messes around with the app before saying, “mhm, here y’ go.” he holds up his phone displaying a very pretty looking account, and satoru snatches up the cell. 

“thanks, man.” 

and that’s when the obsession properly began. 

after looking through your instagram that night, he’d decided you were everything he’d ever wanted and more. you were kind, which was evident in the various charity events you attended with your friends, a quality satoru adored. you loved animals, which was telling from the multiple cat/dog pictures on your year dump highlights, and you had style that rivaled the cool people he always saw lurking around the fashion block. you were so interesting, and he feared you might be the only person he’d let out swag him. 

you were complete perfection. 

was that really weird to assume after seeing someone once and stalking their social media? yeah, yeah it was. but guys like gojo seriously couldn’t care less. 

over the next two weeks gojo spent around half an hour a day waiting outside geto’s art class after physics to ‘walk him back to the frat,’ when really, the brain dead loser was very unstealthily looking for you. 

“this is your big plan to get some? jeez man. give it a rest.” a very bored suguru sighed after around the fifth time gojo’d pulled this. 

“whatever are you talking about? m’ just being a good friend.” he answered, still unsubtly looking over his shoulder to watch you walking the opposite way back to your dorm, dressed in the prettiest little outfit. 

“you’ve made me walk home drunk for an hour because you couldn’t be bothered picking me up from a bar.. you’re the furthest thing from a ‘good frie—” 

“—do you ever shut up? god, let me be a changed man.” he half heartedly shot back, peeling his head around when you finally fall just out of sight. 

“god, i hate you.” suguru sighs.

“nuh uh.” 

“just ask her for her number!” 

“nuh uh.” 

and he didn’t, but not because he didn’t want to necessarily, but because he just couldn’t.. he got this weird anxious feeling deep down in his gut whenever he told himself he’d try, and gojo was someone very foreign to anxiety. guy could strip naked and go streaking in the streets, but when it came to either sending you a message on instagram or walking up to you to get your number? he just couldn’t do it. it was way, way out of the equation. 

he felt like a shy high school girl who had a thing for one of the athletic jocks, a match that was legitimately the other way around. 

“sugu, tell me more about that chick.” he falls down onto the couch next to his all-but fed-up-friend another time. 

“the chick i’ve already told you every single detail i know about? yeah, no. you wanna know more? go talk to her yourself, pussy.” the man scoffs while flicking through some textbook and jotting down notes and annotations in his skrtch pad. 

gojo sighs and gives up, throwing his head back like a child. suguru was right, he’d already picked his brain as much as a brain could be picked. what you did in class, who you hung out with, what kinda music you liked, where you worked. all things he’d then gone to study extensively. 

as he’s busy wallowing in self pity at the fact he’d probably never get to speak to you, his eye catches the front cover of the textbook geto was cradling, a colourful abstracted painter’s palette on a white background titled, ‘art, second edition. a visual history.’ 

“that a new thing you’re studying? haven’t seen you with that book before.” 

geto could say all he wanted about gojo and his less than stellar friendship qualities, but he had to admit the idiot was observant. 

“mhm, got it new from the professor last week, everyone’s been studying ’em like crazy for our upcoming exam.” 

hm. 

the next time satoru’s strolling through the university after basketball practice all sweaty and gross, the man stumbles over something and almost trips face first into the grass. 

“ah, fuck.” he mutters, steadying himself on a big tree beside him, flinging his head around so fast you’d think he’d get whiplash. 

over his shoulder, he spots the cause of his little trip, a thick looking book lying face down in the lush blades of green. 

he leans down to pick the thing up, wiping dirt off the cover before something clicks in his head.

art, second edition. a visual history. what geto was studying? 

he flicks through the pages, eventually landing on the front, which had a crisp log chart signed with just one name. 

[name] [last name], women’s dorm: 4 

fucking jackpot. 

you’re sat around your dorm just chilling out and painting when you hear three raps on your door.

knock knock knock. 

visitors right now? weird. 

you drop your brush into the water jar beside you, slip out from your desk, and fiddle with the knob pulling it back just to be met with the frattiest guy you think you’d ever seen. 

he’s tall, got tousled white hair topped with a backwards baseball cap, a tight white wife beater stretched around his chest, baggy skater jeans, jordan 4s, and simple silver jewelery littering his wrists, fingers, and neck. 

yikes, what did he want with you? 

“uh, hey. do y’ need anything?” you ask semi shyly, wiping your face which leaves a small streak of purple paint on your cheek. 

the big speech he had planned, the chivalrous toothy smile he had hidden behind his lips, both absolutely nowhere to be seen. 

this dummy can’t even reply. he just stands there staring at you like some poor excuse for a serial killer. 

“uhm...” you start to close the door comically slow, waiting for some sort of answer before the hinges on the door form a 180 and the lock clicks into place. 

satoru is still as stone, mental warfare exploding in his pea sized brain. 

fucking say something, satoru! 

“hi!” 

hi? fucking hi? 

“yeah, hi?” you reply, clearly growing more uncomfortable as this horribly cringe situation draws out. 

you watch as the mysterious man takes in a deep breath before putting forth his arm. in his grasp sits the art history textbook you were sure you left with utahime. 

“oh! thank you so much.” you nod, taking it from his hand only to be left tugging on it... the guy wouldn’t let go! 

“so can i... like, can i have it?” you deadpan, pulling on it again. the man lets go and pulls a hand down his chin in a clearly embarrassed fashion. 

satoru gojo wanted to die. he was sure as hell the demon lord was out to get him because what the actual fuck was he doing? 

lock in, satoru, you can do this. lock in. he reels in his brain, resorting to pep talks. he really was pathetic. 

another deep breath later and you finally manage to hear something coherent come from this tall weirdos mouth. 

“god, m’ really sorry. must be the weather,, huh?” he awkwardly laughs, rubbing the back of his neck while swaying back and forth on his feet nervously. what was becoming more and more obvious for satoru was that while he could swoon ladies into bed, it’d seem talking to them without intent to fuck was a little more difficult than he’d presumed.. 

“yep, must be the weather.” you purse your lips, trying your best not to cackle at the movie like awkwardness of all this. 

but you can’t help it... you start laughing right in this guy’s face. 

and if this wasn’t already going bad, gojo feels the heat in his cheeks triple when he hears that noise. beautiful, but definitely directed at him. and before he knows it, he’s laughing right along with you. 

“ah, jeez. i really am sorry.” he chuckles softly. “i really don’t know what i’m doing right now.” he admits, and like the angel you are, you just nod. 

“yeah, i can tell. who even are you? where did you find this?” you smile up at him. he’d better be thankful you were so laid back, any other girl would probably call the cops on an interaction like this. 

he laughs once more, “my name’s satoru, and uhm... it’s kind of a long story?” he rubs his neck again, peering down at you with a bashful look. 

“yeah? well i’ve got the rest of the afternoon. wanna come inside? i’ll make you tea or something. a reward for returning my book. without this thing i’m cooked for my history exam.” you look to him for an answer. 

what was it they said? all bad things come to an end or something? 

“i would love to.” the usually cocky guy smiles, feeling even more flushed than before. 

and with that, he’s being led inside a girl’s dorm, and not just any girl’s dorm, a girl he’s been plotting on for a good three weeks. 

not for sex, for tea.

hey, progress is progress! 

you sit him down on your small couch and he gawks at your room, he’d just entered every art kid’s dream studio. 

there were canvases stood up against every free wall, all shapes and sizes. you had blocks of wet clay and half finished sculptures sat in one corner, and a wall full of free hanging tubes of paint, every colour of the rainbow and their many accompanying hues. 

he already thought you were cool, but this took it to the next level. 

“you like?” he hears you ask from the small kitchenette. 

“hell yeah, your dorm is cool as fuck. my friend suguru would die for a setup like this.” he nods, watching fondly as you place one cup of tea in front of him on the coffee table. he never drinks tea, but if it was you offering, he thinks he’d drink sewer water. he takes a sip and pretends like the near boiling temperature didn’t just scorch his entire throat all nonchalantly. 

“suguru, huh? i know him. he’s in my class.” you nod, sitting beside him with your own cup. 

every ounce of confidence he’d worked up since that little blip at your door dissipated as soon as your butt hit the couch. damn you art majors and your lack of conservation, he thinks, remembering when him and suguru first met and the man had quite literally bear hugged him and decied they were best friends that night because satoru had a ‘nice vibe.’ he’s sure the man regrets that now, but that’s beside the point. 

“so, gonna tell me about my book? make it a good story, too.” you turn to face him, lounging back so effortlessly as you sip at your tea, waiting for the boy to start talking. 

he nods, sipping at his drink before clearing his throat. now was his time to swoon you, he could do this...

...do this he did not. in fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if you were to kick him out for being a stalker right then and there. 

instead of making up some cool, amazing story as to how he found out who you were and where he got the book, he’d spilled the beans on his little crush on you. 

every. little. detail. 

from the instagram to his ill intended walks home with geto, from the countless questions to him almost eating shit tripping over your book. satoru had put it alllll out into the open. 

and yet, to his surprise you weren’t staring at him like he’d killed your puppy, your hand wasn’t inching to grab your phone and dial 000, you were laughing. again.

that sweet sound he’d heard before now back in full force as he sits there mortified at the atrocities that spewed from his lips just moments ago. 

and just like before, he joins in. 

between heaves you’re able to get out a sentence. “so you’re telling me you’ve seen me at a party, stalked my instagram, decided you were in love with me, watched out for me after every single art class, and annoyed poor geto every day for nitpicks on me?” 

he’s shyly smiling, trying to let go of his embarrassment as best he could. “that’s uh... that’s pretty much it, yeah.” he cringes, nodding slowly as another puff of laughter comes from your throat. 

“and you just so happen to stumble across my book on campus? y’know what that sounds like to me?” 

“uh? what?” 

“fate.” you smile.

now it was his turn to huff out a laugh. 

“you believe in that shit?” 

“you don’t?” you retort.

that makes him think. the chronological stages of events were particularly convenient, and he’d fallen upon your book just when he was starting to give up hope...

“i guess you’re right.” 

“yeah, well i’m always right.” 

“that so?” he chuckles. somehow, in the half an hour in which he’s gotten to speak with you, he’d never felt more joy come out of a conversation and fill him with a sense of life.

you were just so calm. not only did you hear him out after that terrible first impression, but here you were serving him tea in your unfairly cool dorm in unfairly cool mugs with your unfairly cool composition. 

“so, if fate wants us to meet so badly, how about we meet again?” you riddle, interrupting his thoughts and causing his eyebrows to shoot up. 

did you just.. did she just ask me out? 

he thinks he could die happy right here in this very moment. take me god, i'm ready.

“like... like on a—” 

“—on a date. i’d like to meet you again, satoru. you’re kind of a weird freak.. but i like it.” you smile, offering him a wink as you sip your tea again. 

a weird freak.. the most degrading comment anyone’s ever been brave enough to give him, and instead he takes it as the biggest compliment in the history of compliments. 

“i would love to go out on a date with you.” 

“i know.” 

“do you just?” 

“told you, i know everything.” 

he laughs once more, shaking his head and looking down at his cup. as he looks back up, he notices the smudge of purple paint still there form before, and with a big surge of confidence he pulls his finger over the mark to wipe it away.

he watches as your eyes go all soft, your lips turning up into a very fond smile. "well, you're definitely cute. i'll give you that."

and the blush he thought he'd got rid of came back just as quick, painting his face in a light pink as he smiles back.

satoru gojo, a guy who once scoffed at the idea of dating was here blushing over a girl calling him cute.. living proof that someone can change for the right kind of person, and he was prepared to make all the sacrifices in the world if it meant seeing that beautiful smile permanently painted on your pretty face.

slept with: 47 

dated: 1

a/n i love and hate this guy he's so fun to write but i can't help but make him a pathetic loser </3

© 2026 sixxels. All work belongs to @sixxels Do NOT repost, modify, translate to another language, or plagiarise in any way on ANY platform.

[jjkficgarden-deactivated2026051]

WELCOME TO THE JJK FIC GARDEN

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[planetchoso-deactivated20260506]

praisekink4praisekink

summary: you come home from work completely exhausted. luckily, your husband always knows just what you need. warnings: 18+, MDNI, fingering (f!receiving), p in v sex, riding, househusband!suguru, non canon!au, praise kink (giving and receiving) to the maxxxx a/n: art by umbra3terna on x. this hit me like a vision and it's very self-indulgent :3 i hope you enjoy. yes, this is another repost, dedicated to my wife aisha this time.

Suguru Geto is the best husband you could have ever asked for. Loving, empathetic, loyal to a fault…you're not convinced that you didn't dream him into existence. You spent so long dealing with men who had too fragile a hold on their own identity to be able to be a partner in the ways you needed.

Meeting Suguru was a breath of fresh air when you hadn't realized how starved you were for oxygen until he walked into your life. It's like you were existing in a vacuum, and Suguru broke the seal, forcing air into your lungs for the first time in years.

Coming home to him still feels like that.

Your job is strenuous and stressful, making demands of you on the daily. As fulfilling as you find the work, it feels like you're always just barely keeping your head above water. You're always weary when you walk through the front door, limbs heavy, shoulders slumped, lungs constricted.

Then, Suguru turns the corner. Hair shining in the warm light of your home, apron cinching in his already-trim waist, long sleeve t-shirt rolled up at the forearms and dusted with flour.

He hangs your coat up for you and tucks you against his chest, and suddenly your lungs are expanding again. Your face instinctively finds the crook of his neck, gulping down the smell of his cologne and that expensive hair oil he uses.

The warmth of his hands bleeds through the fabric of your button down shirt. He's rubbing your back slowly now, always silently able to read just what you need.

His bangs tickle your skin when he rests his forehead against yours.

"Welcome home," he whispers.

"Missed you so much," you mumble, not minding the fact that you're basically choking around a mouthful of his hair.

"I missed you, too, pretty," he murmurs. "Dinner's in the oven. Still has about an hour."

"It smells good. You're an amazing cook, Sugu."

Suguru smiles and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, completely endeared by the sleepy way you speak the praise into his skin.

"Someone has to make sure you're eating, hmm?" Suguru's hands shift down to the backs of your thighs, and he hoists you up against him. His steps are sure and steady as he carries you to the couch, sitting down and settling you in his lap. "How's my baby doing?"

"Your baby's doing abysmal, thanks for asking," you grumble. As much as you want to stew in the negative thoughts and emotions swirling around in your chest, simply being close to your husband has everything untangling itself. All the tension you've been holding onto is slowly teased away under Suguru's warm hands until you're melted into his chest, face squished against his sternum.

"Well, that won't do." Suguru gently tips your head up and nudges your nose with his until you meet his gaze. "What do you need from me, my love?"

You blink up at him, your mind trying to operate on squeaky gears that have been rusted in place since this morning.

What do I need?

You know Suguru would do anything you ask of him, or at least try to. He'd bend over backwards if it meant making you feel just a bit better.

"Just be nice to me," you mumble. It's a dumb request. You realize it as soon as the words slip out of your mouth. He's always nice. The closest he gets to being mean is through his teasing, and even then he's always cooing the playful words in the sweetest, most unserious way possible.

Suguru understands, though. His thumbs run along the underside of your jaw, and he presses a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. "Anything for you. My pretty girl."

His mouth trails kisses along your cheek and down the side of your neck as his hands find their way down to your hips.

"You work so hard for us, baby. Do so much for everyone…" his mouth lingers at your earlobe as he whispers his next words.

"You're the most perfect wife I could've ever asked for."

Your panties are immediately soaked. The velvety purr of his voice, the way he's touching you so delicately, the sweet words…Suguru knows exactly what he's doing. One of the first things you'd discovered about each other was your shared love of praise. Giving and receiving, it drives you both crazy.

All Suguru has to do to get you wet is tell you how much he loves you.

All you have to do to get him hard is tell him how handsome he is.

"Sugu," you warn.

"I know…I've got you," he murmurs. He's got a hand under your shirt now, gently rubbing over the soft skin of your belly as his lips travel down into the open dip of your unbuttoned collar.

"You've always got me," you mumble. "You're so good at taking care of me."

"Mm," Suguru hums against your skin before propping his chin up against your chest, blinking those pretty amethyst eyes up at you. "No other person I'd rather take care of. Just you."

"God, look at you…" you slide a hand through his inky hair, and Suguru tilts his head into the touch like a cat. "You're so handsome it hurts."

"Fuck, that's it."

Suguru scoops you up again and carries you off to the bedroom, arms braced under under your ass and mouth scattering kisses over your clothed tits. Despite the heat coursing through the two of you, Suguru doesn't toss you on the bed and rip your clothes off like some careless lover. He lowers you down gently, settles your head down onto your pillow, and methodically unbuttons your shirt, so he can trail kisses all over your bare skin.

His hands slide under you, fingers deftly unhooking your bra and sliding it down your arms. A quiet groan escapes him when your breasts are finally free, and he immediately ducks his head down to suck a nipple into his mouth.

"So…perfect," he mumbles. His tongue flicks over your nipple until it's peaked, just to switch and repeat the process on your other breast. Suguru doesn't pull back until your chest is slick with his spit. "I love you so much."

Suguru crawls over you, slotting his slick mouth over yours and kissing you deeply while his hands work you out of your work skirt. The first brush of his fingertips over the slick fabric of your panties has both of you groaning into each other's mouths.

"Feel that?" he whispers. "You always get so wet for me. Makes me feel so good, you know that?"

"Shit—Sugu," you whine as his fingers finally find your clit. He rubs soft, slow circles into the nub, going slow and steady. He likes working you up gradually, watching as your pleasure builds and your thighs begin to shake. He's got one of his knees planted into the mattress to keep your thighs open, and he tuts when your legs try to shut. "No, baby. I wanna see my pretty girl. You're too beautiful to hide yourself away. Don't run."

Suguru's eyes stay fixed on your face as two of his fingers slowly slide inside you, your slick negating any resistance. At the same time your jaw falls slack, Suguru bites his bottom lip and groans, practically feeling your pleasure as if it was his own.

"Juuust like that. So fucking good." The way the sweet words drip off his tongue have you gushing around his fingers. The long, elegant digits work you slowly, knuckles dragging against your walls as his fingertips massage your g-spot with every curl and twist.

You fall apart when his thumb finds your clit again, thighs shaking as pleasure courses through you. It's intense, but the steady weight of Suguru's gaze settles you.

He works you through it, bringing you back down to earth and pulling his fingers out when you complain about overstimulation.

Suguru gets himself undressed while you try to steady your breathing. It doesn't work. The drag of fabric against his tan, toned skin has your breath catching in your chest all over again. Your husband has always kept himself in good shape, always joking about having to look the part of a stay-at-home trophy husband, but there's more to it than that. He wants to be strong for you. He wants to be able to protect you, to take care of you. To pick you up and put you in his lap.

That's a right he exercises as soon as he's undressed. He sits up against the headboard and pulls you into his lap, your thighs bracketing his as his cock presses up against your navel. Purple eyes full of love and affection lock onto yours, and he kisses your nose. The gesture is so soft and gentle, and it catches you so off-guard in the moment that all you can do is laugh.

"Sugu—"

"Shh," he cuts you off with a soft kiss. "I can't figure out if I like the way you sound when you laugh or moan more."

You thread a hand through his his hair and tilt his head back. "Imagine the position I'm in, being married to a man with a voice like yours."

"You like my voice?" he grins, his hips starting an involuntary grinding motion that makes his shaft drag across your clit. "What else do you like about me?"

"I like your smile. You always light up when you smile. And your hair. It's shinier than mine…and your—mm…" Suguru's teasing his head along your slit now, rubbing up and down, pressing in for a moment before pulling back right as he's about to sink in.

"Do you like my cock, baby?"

"You know I do."

"Mhm…" his lips trail along your jaw before he decides to nip your earlobe. "I still think you should say it, though."

You look at him for a moment. His cheeks are flushed. You can see his pulse thrumming through the thin skin at the base of his throat. The purple of his irises have been all but swallowed up by his pupils.

He's stunning, this man of yours. Everything about him, right down to his heart and soul. Even his cock.

Well, especially his cock.

"I love it, Sugu. I fucking love everything about you, you know that."

"I know you do, baby," he soothes, "I know you do."

At that, he lines himself up and helps you sit down on his cock. The stretch is always intense at first, but it turns into pleasure quickly, and you find yourself rolling your hips against his lazily.

Suguru isn't in anymore of a rush than you are. He's got you tucked tight against his chest, caged in by the strength of his arms wrapping your waist. Flurries of kisses get dusted across your neck, shoulders, and collarbones, his lips worshiping you as his hands rub soothing patterns into your hips and ass.

You're moaning out traded praise now, going back and forth, talking about anything and everything that comes to mind.

"You fill me up s'fucking good, Sugu."

"Take me so well…squeezing me so tight, shit…"

"Love it when you fuck up into me like that. Don't stop…"

"You're so sexy. Can't get enough of you. Prettiest fucking girl I've ever seen."

Suguru's cock hits all the sweet spots you never knew existed before you got with him. It's just another reason to believe you dreamed him up. No man could be this perfect and have a perfect dick. It's unfair. Evil, even. He's so fucking perfect for you. You know, deep down, he could have you begging for him, making you humiliate yourself for even a taste of him. You'd do it gladly. Yet here he is, letting you take everything you want from him and singing your praises for it. He loves you too much to hurt you like that.

He's your Suguru.

"Fuck, fuck," he whines. His mouth is open against your shoulder. It's kind of gross that he's drooling on you, but you're both so lost in each other that neither of you mind. His hands are on your hips now, guiding you as you keep up your slow pace. "Baby, you're perfect. You know that, right? You're so—I love you so much. So much. Don't stop…need you so bad. I spend all day thinking about you…I always miss you so much, angel…"

Suguru's desperate babbling—the honeyed words that spill so freely from his lips in moments like these—only brings you closer and closer to cumming. He can feel it, too. The stutter in your hips, the way you're clenching down around him, the trembling in your thighs…

"Are you going to cum for me, baby?" he moans. "Fuck, please cum on my cock, angel. You feel so good clamping down around me. Cum for me. Look at me when you do."

Suguru's thumb finds your clit again, and it takes all the effort you can muster to pull your head up to meet his gaze. His forehead bumps up against yours, watching you intently as you start to fall apart at the seams.

"Does that feel good? You like it like that? You like cumming on my cock?" Suguru's hips jump up at the sight of your eyes rolling back, fucking you through the waves of your orgasm. His grip on your hips is tight, and he's practically bouncing you on his cock since your thighs have given out. "Baby, angel, hah, m'gonna cum. You want it inside?"

You have just enough of a hold on yourself to moan out a "yes!" just before he spills inside you. He holds you down on his cock as it pulses inside you, shooting rope after rope of cum into you. When his muscles finally go lax, he slumps back against the headboard and tugs you against his chest.

He doesn't realize that you've started crying until you sniffle into his neck. All the stress, the love, the pleasure, and everything whirling around inside you has finally caught up, and all you can do about it is cry and hope your husband can pick up the pieces.

Thankfully, he always does.

"Oh, honey…it's okay. It's okay." One of Suguru's hands rubs up and down your back while the other gathers your hair, tying it up so the strands sticking to your neck can't overwhelm you further. "What's wrong?"

"You just…" you sniffle and swipe a hand over your face. "You just make me feel so safe, and I love you so much."

"I make you feel safe?" Suguru whispers the words like you've just revealed a universal secret to him. He's always known that you must feel comfortable with him and that you trust him, but there's something about hearing you say it right now, in this moment where you need him to comfort you, that makes everything feel worth it.

God, he's never loved anyone or anything more than he loves you. It's ridiculous and beautiful at the same time, and he never wants to feel anything other than the glowing warmth he feels right now.

You don't answer until you've managed to collect yourself.

"You do. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Suguru. I love you so much."

When you look up at him and see the softness he's showing you, when you see none of his walls or barriers, you know he feels it, too.

He doesn't need to say it. He doesn't need to do half of the things he does for you.

But he's your Suguru, so he always will.

"I love you, too, angel."

Later in the night, after dinner is eaten, after the sheets are changed, and after you've showered, you curl up against his chest, and he holds you so close you might as well share one heart.

Suguru isn't like any man you've ever met before. He doesn't wield incompetence like a sword. He doesn't shirk responsibility. He doesn't let his pride get in the way of loving you.

He's your breath of fresh air. Your love. Your life. He's the best husband you could ever ask for, and, even if you did dream him into existence, you have no complaints.

all written content belongs to @planetchoso! do not reupload, translate, or feed my work into ai. i do not own the original characters or the art used above.

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[midnightfictionlibrary]

Gimme Gimme More | Pegging your husband Nanami! || MDNI

cw || pegging, wife reader, strap on use

When you had first floated the idea to your husband, he had seemed skeptical. Ever the logical, calm one in the relationship, he told you he would think about it and let you know. 

You weren’t sure what exactly changed his mind, but you were standing at the foot of the bed, a smirk on your red paint lips at your hulking husband laid out face down, ass up, all for you. Dipping a knee into the mattress, you run a smooth hand up his thigh and over his perfectly round ass. 

“God, Ken…” You whisper, eyes roaming over his body. He shivers slightly, goosebumps appearing along the curves and ridge of his sculpted body. The straps of the toy you’re wearing dig into your thighs, and the slender, upward curve of the hot pink dildo had you wet, and you had barely even touched your husband yet. 

You grab a brightly colored tube of lube from the bedside table and apply it liberally on your fingers, swirling it around slightly before leaning over, pressing a chaste kiss to the base of Nanami’s spine. 

“Okay, love?” You ask him softly, and he wiggles slightly, peeking over his shoulder at you. 

“Mmm.” He affirms, giving you one of his devastatingly handsome smiles, one of the ones that were definitely the reason you were married now and in this position. You smile back, your free and unlubed hand rubbing a thumb reassuringly over his hipbone. 

“You tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” You say, raising an eyebrow at him. Nanami Kento was the type of husband to bear anything to make you happy, so you needed to give him this disclaimer. “Got it?”

Nanami nods once. “I understand you perfectly, baby.” He murmurs. 

You give him another quick kiss on one of his perfect ass cheeks, and begin to spread lube over his puckered hole. He hisses at the cool temperature of the lube, but quickly relaxes into your touch. You watch him closely, pushing one finger in slowly, past the tight muscle and into his walls. You bite your lip, waiting a minute. 

“Baby..” he whispers, voice strained. 

Your eyes snap to him immediately. “Need me to stop?” You ask, but his ass clenches slightly, and when you look down, his thick cock is already leaking at the tip. 

“N-no…need you to move.” He whispers, swallowing. You watch as his Adam’s apple bobs, and you bite down on your lip, trying not to smirk. Carefully, you begin moving your finger inside him, and he gasps, back arching slightly as he lets out a string of curses. 

“Fuck, fuck baby…please, love.” His voice sounds strangled, and you pause a minute. 

“Tell me what you need, baby. Be a good boy and tell me.” You whisper, voice low with arousal. You weren’t touching yourself and you were soaked, watching him squirm like this. 

“More. I need more…” He gasps, and you grin. 

“Yeah? You need more? Need me to give you more?’ You ask, voice taking on a teasing lilt that he’s used on you more times than you could count. Blonde strands stick to his forehead, and he whimpers. 

You slip another finger inside him, fingers scissoring to work him open for you. You pant a bit, swallowing to coat your dry throat. Kento looked so good like this, his face was flushed, plush lips glistening slightly from his incoherent curses. His hair was beginning to come ungelled, your professional, put together husband falling apart around your fingers. The sight had you coating the inside of the strap you wore with your slick, your folds puffy from the way you squeezed your thighs together tightly, walls fluttering and clenching around nothing. 

With your free hand, you squeeze more lube over Kento’s asshole, the squelch squelch squelch of his hole spurring you on. Nanami pushes his hips back into you, and your eyes widen. You weren't expecting him to be so into it, but here he was, squirming and writhing under you like you’re the only person that’s ever made him feel this much pleasure. Your eyes trail down again, burning with hunger when you see him stroking his girthy cock, the tip red and needy. 

It makes your breath hitch. “Please, Ken, let me put it in.” You whisper, free hand roaming over his ass, squeezing the plump flesh there as he lets out another whimpering moan. 

“Gimme…more.” He whimpers, eyes squeezing shut as he fists himself, long, languid strokes that have you eager to get him off even faster. Quickly, you raise to your knees, the silicone dildo attached to you bouncing slightly. You notch the tip at his hole, and now that he was nice and stretched from your fingers, you could tell he was ready to take you. Slowly, you push in, breaching him, and you wait a minute. 

“Good?” You breathe out, clit throbbing and pussy dripping from watching your husband’s pleasure. 

Nanami swallows, and slowly, he moves his ass back until he’s taken the dildo all the way. You were bottomed out, biting your lip as you watched him. 

A pretty pink blush dusted Nanami’s face, his cheek smushed into the pillow. His perfect brows were pinched together, arm still working steadily as he tugged at his cock. 

“Move. Please. I…need it.” He breathes out. “Feels s’good baby, I can’t -” His sentence is cut off with a sharp moan as you begin moving, rolling your hips as you drive the dildo in and out of his hole. You place your slender hands on his hips and give a sharp thrust, causing him to gasp, his hand working faster over his cock. 

The plap plap plap of skin on skin has you dizzy, and the strap on was starting to rub friction over your poor, neglected clit. You bite down a moan, working the strap a bit faster, watching as Nanami squeezes his eyes shut, frantically pumping his fist. 

“S’close. Oh, fuck, please keep going!” He cries out, and you take it as your sign to thrust faster, rolling your hips as his chest begins to heave, as he starts making little moans and whimpers the longer you impale him. 

“Fuck Ken, you’re taking my cock so well, you’re doing so good for me.” You whisper to him, rolling your hips, your own hipbones bouncing off that tight ass of his. 

You watch as his eyes roll back as you speak, and he lets out a prolonged moan. “Oh my fucking god, baby -” He gasps, and you feel him clench on the strap. Thick, sticky white ropes of cum shoot from his leaking red tip. And you? You can’t help yourself, you cum, hole fluttering around nothing, but the sight of your fucked out husband shooting warmth through your clit. 

You gasp. “Fuck, fuck, take it, take my cock -” You grunt as you ride out his orgasm. 

And finally, when he’s left a shaking, shivering mess, you slowly pull out, unstrapping yourself from the toy and climbing up the bed to lie beside him. A kiss lands on his bare shoulder, and he lifts his head, brown eyes meeting yours. 

“Good?” You ask softly, leaning in and nuzzling your nose against his. Kento smiles, throwing an arm over your waist and weakly tugging you closer. 

“Perfect.” He whispers back, settling into the plush of the bed, fucked out and utterly happy to have a wife that likes to try new things.

[midnightfictionlibrary]

rich but i’m broke - gojo satoru x reader

cw : mdni, major character death, angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship

a/n : so i hurt my own feelings writing this…hope you enjoy.

when you finally find him, you find him curled in over himself. his forehead almost touches the floor, and you stand there a moment, trying to gauge how to approach him. and then you hear the small sniffles coming from him, the whimper that tears itself from his throat. your own breath catches, and you take one step, then another, and another, until you fall to your knees beside him. hesitant, as if you were scared to touch him, your fingertips brush his shoulder blade. he lurches, as if you’ve burnt him with your touch. 

“don’t. please.” he whispers, a rasp coming from his throat, threading his voice into something almost unrecognizable. your hand drops back to your side, throat clicking as you swallow, eyes roaming over him. he was in pain, and you wanted to help. 

you watch him quietly for a moment, watching as those ice blue eyes flutter shut again. his hands shake, and it’s almost as if he can’t bring it upon his body to even move. maybe lurching away from you is the most moving he’s done in awhile. slow golden light pours in from an open window, dappling the floor with the shadows of leaves from trees. 

“what happened?” you whisper, folding your own body to lean down, trying to will him to look at you. you knew minor details. you needed to hear it from him. 

a moment of silence. you almost think he won’t answer you, but his breath catches on a phrase. “i - “ he swallows. tries again. “i ended it.” you know what he means. 

“baby…” you say softly, love and compassion entering your tone. the love of your life, bent over in grief and emotional turmoil after ending the life of his best friend. 

the tone of your voice makes his breath hitch, and you watch, almost awestruck, as tears hit the floor where he’s folded himself. you reach for him again, but he moves quicker this time. 

“don’t!” he snaps, and you frown, shaking your head. 

“satoru, i can’t leave you like this, i won’t -” 

he grabs your wrists, raising himself slightly to look at you. “don’t you get it? my hands, these two hands, killed my best friend. even after what he did, it hurts. all i am..” he lets out a watery breath, and your brows pinch together, tears crowding your waterline now. 

“all i am is a weapon. destructive.” he hisses, his voice raising slightly, his eyes snapping to yours finally. “who says i won’t lose my mind, won’t be able to take it anymore? won’t…won’t hurt you?”

“you won’t.” you whisper back automatically, without a thought or a doubt in your mind. 

he scoffs at that, releasing your wrists. “richest man this side of town and look at me. broken.” he whispers, tears flowing freely. 

you reach up, cupping his face. he tries to dodge you, but you hold him anyway. “shh, look at me. look at me, satoru.” you whisper fiercely. 

something in your voice makes him stop, one of his large hands sliding up to grip one wrist as he stares at you. 

“you did what you thought you had to. and nothing, nothing, will ever make me think of you as just a weapon. you are remarkable. talented. protective. you don’t do things just for the hell of it, baby. and i know it hurts. and i know it feels like you’re falling apart. but let me catch you, okay?” you say softly, thumbs running along his cheekbones softly, gazing at him. “i love you.” 

he stares at you a moment, processing your words, and lets out the most pitiful, vulnerable cry you’ve ever heard come from him, face slipping from your grasp to fold over, burying his face in your stomach, fingers clutching tightly at the fabric of your uniform as he wails. 

you bend over, kissing his head lightly, hands going through his hair to soothe him. you stay there until the golden light fades, until the crickets come out and there’s a chill in the air, anchoring the strongest when no one else can. 

[midnightfictionlibrary]

rich but i’m broke - gojo satoru x reader

cw : mdni, major character death, angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship

a/n : so i hurt my own feelings writing this…hope you enjoy.

when you finally find him, you find him curled in over himself. his forehead almost touches the floor, and you stand there a moment, trying to gauge how to approach him. and then you hear the small sniffles coming from him, the whimper that tears itself from his throat. your own breath catches, and you take one step, then another, and another, until you fall to your knees beside him. hesitant, as if you were scared to touch him, your fingertips brush his shoulder blade. he lurches, as if you’ve burnt him with your touch. 

“don’t. please.” he whispers, a rasp coming from his throat, threading his voice into something almost unrecognizable. your hand drops back to your side, throat clicking as you swallow, eyes roaming over him. he was in pain, and you wanted to help. 

you watch him quietly for a moment, watching as those ice blue eyes flutter shut again. his hands shake, and it’s almost as if he can’t bring it upon his body to even move. maybe lurching away from you is the most moving he’s done in awhile. slow golden light pours in from an open window, dappling the floor with the shadows of leaves from trees. 

“what happened?” you whisper, folding your own body to lean down, trying to will him to look at you. you knew minor details. you needed to hear it from him. 

a moment of silence. you almost think he won’t answer you, but his breath catches on a phrase. “i - “ he swallows. tries again. “i ended it.” you know what he means. 

“baby…” you say softly, love and compassion entering your tone. the love of your life, bent over in grief and emotional turmoil after ending the life of his best friend. 

the tone of your voice makes his breath hitch, and you watch, almost awestruck, as tears hit the floor where he’s folded himself. you reach for him again, but he moves quicker this time. 

“don’t!” he snaps, and you frown, shaking your head. 

“satoru, i can’t leave you like this, i won’t -” 

he grabs your wrists, raising himself slightly to look at you. “don’t you get it? my hands, these two hands, killed my best friend. even after what he did, it hurts. all i am..” he lets out a watery breath, and your brows pinch together, tears crowding your waterline now. 

“all i am is a weapon. destructive.” he hisses, his voice raising slightly, his eyes snapping to yours finally. “who says i won’t lose my mind, won’t be able to take it anymore? won’t…won’t hurt you?”

“you won’t.” you whisper back automatically, without a thought or a doubt in your mind. 

he scoffs at that, releasing your wrists. “richest man this side of town and look at me. broken.” he whispers, tears flowing freely. 

you reach up, cupping his face. he tries to dodge you, but you hold him anyway. “shh, look at me. look at me, satoru.” you whisper fiercely. 

something in your voice makes him stop, one of his large hands sliding up to grip one wrist as he stares at you. 

“you did what you thought you had to. and nothing, nothing, will ever make me think of you as just a weapon. you are remarkable. talented. protective. you don’t do things just for the hell of it, baby. and i know it hurts. and i know it feels like you’re falling apart. but let me catch you, okay?” you say softly, thumbs running along his cheekbones softly, gazing at him. “i love you.” 

he stares at you a moment, processing your words, and lets out the most pitiful, vulnerable cry you’ve ever heard come from him, face slipping from your grasp to fold over, burying his face in your stomach, fingers clutching tightly at the fabric of your uniform as he wails. 

you bend over, kissing his head lightly, hands going through his hair to soothe him. you stay there until the golden light fades, until the crickets come out and there’s a chill in the air, anchoring the strongest when no one else can. 

[midnightfictionlibrary]

rich but i’m broke - gojo satoru x reader

cw : mdni, major character death, angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship

a/n : so i hurt my own feelings writing this…hope you enjoy.

when you finally find him, you find him curled in over himself. his forehead almost touches the floor, and you stand there a moment, trying to gauge how to approach him. and then you hear the small sniffles coming from him, the whimper that tears itself from his throat. your own breath catches, and you take one step, then another, and another, until you fall to your knees beside him. hesitant, as if you were scared to touch him, your fingertips brush his shoulder blade. he lurches, as if you’ve burnt him with your touch. 

“don’t. please.” he whispers, a rasp coming from his throat, threading his voice into something almost unrecognizable. your hand drops back to your side, throat clicking as you swallow, eyes roaming over him. he was in pain, and you wanted to help. 

you watch him quietly for a moment, watching as those ice blue eyes flutter shut again. his hands shake, and it’s almost as if he can’t bring it upon his body to even move. maybe lurching away from you is the most moving he’s done in awhile. slow golden light pours in from an open window, dappling the floor with the shadows of leaves from trees. 

“what happened?” you whisper, folding your own body to lean down, trying to will him to look at you. you knew minor details. you needed to hear it from him. 

a moment of silence. you almost think he won’t answer you, but his breath catches on a phrase. “i - “ he swallows. tries again. “i ended it.” you know what he means. 

“baby…” you say softly, love and compassion entering your tone. the love of your life, bent over in grief and emotional turmoil after ending the life of his best friend. 

the tone of your voice makes his breath hitch, and you watch, almost awestruck, as tears hit the floor where he’s folded himself. you reach for him again, but he moves quicker this time. 

“don’t!” he snaps, and you frown, shaking your head. 

“satoru, i can’t leave you like this, i won’t -” 

he grabs your wrists, raising himself slightly to look at you. “don’t you get it? my hands, these two hands, killed my best friend. even after what he did, it hurts. all i am..” he lets out a watery breath, and your brows pinch together, tears crowding your waterline now. 

“all i am is a weapon. destructive.” he hisses, his voice raising slightly, his eyes snapping to yours finally. “who says i won’t lose my mind, won’t be able to take it anymore? won’t…won’t hurt you?”

“you won’t.” you whisper back automatically, without a thought or a doubt in your mind. 

he scoffs at that, releasing your wrists. “richest man this side of town and look at me. broken.” he whispers, tears flowing freely. 

you reach up, cupping his face. he tries to dodge you, but you hold him anyway. “shh, look at me. look at me, satoru.” you whisper fiercely. 

something in your voice makes him stop, one of his large hands sliding up to grip one wrist as he stares at you. 

“you did what you thought you had to. and nothing, nothing, will ever make me think of you as just a weapon. you are remarkable. talented. protective. you don’t do things just for the hell of it, baby. and i know it hurts. and i know it feels like you’re falling apart. but let me catch you, okay?” you say softly, thumbs running along his cheekbones softly, gazing at him. “i love you.” 

he stares at you a moment, processing your words, and lets out the most pitiful, vulnerable cry you’ve ever heard come from him, face slipping from your grasp to fold over, burying his face in your stomach, fingers clutching tightly at the fabric of your uniform as he wails. 

you bend over, kissing his head lightly, hands going through his hair to soothe him. you stay there until the golden light fades, until the crickets come out and there’s a chill in the air, anchoring the strongest when no one else can.