Tendou taking it upon himself to create Ushijima a dating app profile (gn! Reader)
Ushijima who tries and fails to convince Tendou not to make him a dating app profile. He has no interest in something as impersonal as online dating.
Ushijima who caves in one night and decides to scroll through the app. It feels a little dehumanizing to him to be flipping through profiles.
Ushijima whose heart skips a beat when he comes across your profile. Your pictures reflect your personality rather than the curated filtered images others have. What prompts you answer on your profile actually represent your hobbies or preferred relationship qualities rather than copy and paste answers.
Ushijima who is pleased you match with him and initiate a conversation. He’s already has dealt with people taking days to respond or straight up ghosting him. He is not a fan of the games. The conversation flows easily between you two without it feeling reminiscent of an interview.
Ushijima who does not beat around the bush and asks you out on a date. He already feels as if you two have similar interests, so why hold off meeting in person? He doesn’t want a pen pal.
Ushijima who confesses that he has never done something like this before. He apologizes in advance if he comes off too strong. Modern dating etiquette is not his forte. He does, however, open the door for you and pay for dinner. It’s probably the best date you’ve ever had.
Ushijima who makes it known by the end of the date that he wants to see you again. He deletes the app when he gets home. He sees no point in keeping it if he is actively pursuing you.
Ushijima whose bluntness is inadvertently suave. His compliments aren’t flowery and long-winded but they still make you blush.
Ushijima who surprises Tendou when he sees you at one of his games wearing his jersey. Tendou just about flips out when he sees Ushijima giving you a kiss. Best believe he’s forcing his best friend to introduce him to you. (Tendou firmly stands by the fact that he was the reason you two got together)
Reader who was one bad date away from deleting the app. Ushijima is a breath of fresh air. His straightforwardness beats whatever situationship purgatory other men have given you.
choking tamsy while fuckin’ and feeling his heart race pulse against your palms and his hips start to slow and and his pace starts stuttering and his eyes get all droopy and his pupils are blown out and right when he thinks he might actually pass out on you, boom, you let go and all at once the rush of air and every physical sensation comes back to him full force and he’s just left cumming and heaving and drooling like an idiot
or whatever
tags/tw: choking + tamsy being weird + femdom!reader.
i have my hands on my head in disbelief rn.
feeling his adam’s apple bob under your clammy palms as he chokes on the glob of saliva you spewed directly at the back of his throat. oh my gooossh and he can’t stop his hips from thrusting in search of the warm cunt devouring his dick in feverish gulps. it feels divine. spectacular. absolutely marvelous when his throat clicks for air, his eyes more muted than they’ve ever been as his lids hang low and his fair flesh glows crimson.
the jolting of his hips lose their tempo when the lack of oxygen plummets his energy and he ponders somewhere in the back of his mind that he wouldn’t be opposed to going out like this—by your unwavering grip around his neck as you soak him thoroughly in your sticky fluids.
but you have no intentions of taking his life, and he’s mildly confused at the disappointment he feels crawling up his chest when the pressure releases from his throat. he uses the opportunity to suck up as much air as he can tolerate before gazing up at you.
you spared him. a smile graces your lips as you look him dead in his eyes. you could’ve killed him just now. you know it. certain.
and that's the moment he comes deep in the pits of your womb. you hold eye contact as he does. so he keeps coming until translucent cream trickles down the rim.
SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend has been acting suspicious recently. always on his phone, awkward as hell, sweating through his shirts and mind elsewhere. he must be cheating!
NOTES: he’s not cheating. dialogue. fluff. angst. established relationship.
“i think we should break up.”
the words leave your mouth before you can catch them, slipping out like high tides of a waterfall.
truthfully you’re had enough. your boyfriend has invited you to this fancy restaurant, wearing a white shirt and slacks, pushed you to wear a pretty dress… all to ignore you on the other side of the table. he’s mid typing on his phone with one hand, chicken skewer in another as his head darts up to you and begins to choke.
it’s dramatic, loud, causing heads to turn as this large muscled man begins coughing like he caught a sickness. or worse. a marinated chicken chunk is stuck in his throat. bakugou katsuki’s eyes begin to water from food going down the wrong pipe, flaring red on impact. you momentarily feel so bad that you get up to tap his back and a waiter hands him water.
he gulps it down, staring at you with wet frowning eyes as you sit back down opposite him. you bite down on your lip in pure worry, fiddling with the hem of your dress.
when he’s finished the glass, you’re sure you see sweat glistening on his forehead either from his choking attack or from your comment. probably both. bakugou’s wiping his mouth when he utters, “what the fuck? why? y’serious?”
it hasn’t just been tonight. recently, things just haven’t been the same. maybe your four year relationship has run its course… you’re even suspicious he’s cheating on you. your three times a week meet-ups and sleepovers have swindled down to one, with excuses of work or prior engagements. whenever he is with you, he’s always on his phone, typing away or stuffing it into his pocket when you walk into the room. in the car is usually when you’d chat and laugh, catching up on each other's days. that has become a one sided interview of you asking him questions while his mind is so clearly elsewhere. he replies with one liners or asking you to repeat yourself three times before you give up.
you saw your life with katsuki, forever and always. as someone who’s never cared for marriage growing up, katsuki has been the first person who’s made you imagine that day. handsome in his suit at the end of the aisle, most likely crying and swearing too many times in his speech.
but recently those thoughts of forever have come crashing down quicker than you can handle.
“or a break? just some time apart,” you take a deep breath, you’re trying your best to make eye contact in this busy restaurant. a date he’s finally put together after weeks. “i just need time apart.”
you’re at your limit! you want to scream. i’m sure you’re cheating on me! you’re always so secretive on your phone!
but you’ve already grieved so much privately that you’re exhausted at this point.
“baby, what?” you can tell he doesn’t know where to start, but it’s satisfying to see him looking anything but sly or holding something back.
his eyes are wide, the red veins visible like he’s already cried his heart out. you notice his fingers, dying to grab you from across the table. he pushes his plate to the side.
“what have i done? why d’you want one? speak to me here.”
his voice cracks on the last word but he catches himself by sitting up straight, giving up on his internal battle and grabbing your hand across the table. it all breaks your heart, causing you to look away from him.
you clench your eyes shut, “we’ve not been the same recently and i’m not accusing you of anything but i’m so sure you’re keeping a secret from me.”
you yank your hand away from him, looking him in the eye. “you’re always texting on your phone and i know when you’re lying, katsuki. i ask you who it is and you say deku or kiri, but i know it’s not.”
even now, you can tell you caught him out. you think he’s stopped breathing, no words coming out his mouth as his lips part. then his shoulders slump and his hand comes up to rub roughly at his face. he mutters into his palm but you can’t hear a thing.
“i can’t believe… fuck. i’m not fuckin’ cheatin’ on you. i’d never do that shit. you hear me? i’d never.” he grits his teeth.
you don’t reply, just continuing to blink at him.
“yn, baby. i love you. i wouldn’t do that to you.” he presses, desperate to hold you or bring you home to talk privately. or just for you to understand him.
“i do know katsuki. well, i think i do but recently everything has been so weird between us.” you sigh, looking down at your matching untouched soup, “we haven’t been together as much as usual. it feels like your mind is always elsewhere when we’re together. you’re always anxious and texting before we go out. i hate it. i want to go back to how we were.”
you’re about to start whining at him. “i’ve missed giggling, sex and flirting with you. everything feels so serious and i don’t know why.”
you don’t cry, you’ve cried about this for the past week before coming to this decision. “i think we should break up.”
bakugou grabs your hand from across the table, refusing to let go even when you lightly tug.
“we’re not breakin’ up.” he says sternly, “i’m fuckin’ this all up, i know i am. i know i’ve been weird as hell recently. i can’t tell you why though.”
you scrunch your nose like a bad smell has wafted in. “why can’t you tell me?”
“i just can’t. it’s for a good reason though. promise.” he pleads, forcing a smile on his face but it only comes out awkward, bordering on scary. too much teeth, eyebrows raised.
you shake your head, “no, no. i’ve been crying over you, over our relationship for the past week now. you either tell me now or i’m gone, katsuki.” you frown harsher, breaths shaky. “you’re cheating, aren’t you?”
“i said i’m not! i’d never do that shit—,” he scoffs, disgusted at the idea.
“show me your phone!” you demand, again yanking your hand away from him and instead, holding out your palm.
bakugou pauses, swears under his breath. the pro hero is flustered, hair a mess from taking his hand through it repeatedly. “i know how this looks. i can’t—.”
“then we’re over.”
bakugou practically growls across the table as you cross your arms. “no we’re not. i fuckin’ love you. i’ve been all over the place recently but just wait—“
you roll your eyes, “wait for what? i’m hearing words with no meaning, katsuki.”
without releasing a single tear, you rise to your feet. “i’ll see you later to pick up my stuff. goodbye—,”
“for fucks sake. fine. sit your ass down. i’ll tell you. don’t say shit to me after.” bakugou crosses his muscled arms in his crisp white shirt across his chest.
“depends on what you show me,” you mutter but bakugou levels your stare.
“sit down, baby.”
there’s always that certain something in your boyfriend's tone that makes you listen. the same tone that makes his agency listen to him, civilians and villains alike. for you there’s a wisp of care behind it, that he’s aware of how sensitive he’s made you as of recent.
you plop back down in silence.
“remember you’re askin’ to see this. don’t get mad once you see it.”
“you’re gonna show me the woman you’re cheating on me with and expect me not to get mad?” you’re petty now, waving away the waiter that’s about to walk over. “c’mon get on with it.”
bakugou rolls his eyes, “i should spank you for this. like hell i’d ever cheat on you.”
your eyes widen. it’s not the time for sexual jokes. “fuck off, katsuki.” you’re about to kick him under the table.
though he pulls out his phone from his pocket, unlocks it with his face and slides it across the table to you.
his home screen is a photo of you sitting on a picnic blanket in the park from last year. you’re smiling at him, a punnet of strawberries on your lap in a long gingham maxi dress.
your heart rattles against your chest. he isn’t so evil to make you read through the text messages with his secret lover is he?
“can you just tell me? i don’t want to read them.”
he shakes his head, “no or you’re still gonna think i’m fuckin’ around. look yourself.”
bakugou looks slumped. jutting his jaw to his phone.
you take a deep breath and you tap open his text messages. the green app opens into a load of chats. first being your chat with him, saying what time you’re going to arrive at his apartment.
your heart skips a beat at the next name. a woman’s name.
“who the hell is…,”
then you read the next woman’s name.
“wait… are these my—,”
it’s your best friend, your childhood best friend. second on the list is another childhood friend of yours, not your shared friends with katsuki, but your friends.
next is momo and mina on the list.
then deku, kirishima, kaminari and shouto.
you frown up at your boyfriend, “why are you talking to my friends?”
but you don’t give him time to answer, tapping open the text messages with your best friend.
immediately, your hand flies to your mouth and just as quickly as you skim read the texts, you lock the phone.
“don’t show me anymore!” you whisper. “what the fuck, katsuki!”
bakugou grunts, staring at his stretched fingers. “that explain it? i’ve just been scared shitless. a fuckin’ pussy.”
you’re reacting like… like you just saw that he’s going to…
“you’re going to propose to me?” you say breathlessly, through your fingers.
“that was gonna be the plan if i could ever get the stupid words out or if you don’t break up with my dumbass before i can.”
you stare at your handsome, gorgeous, love of your life across the table from you at this fancy restaurant. you have to wave away the waiter again who wants to take your dirty plates and stare down this beautiful man. despite it all, now the truth is out, he looks less anxious, as if a literal shiny diamond stone has fallen off his back.
“you were asking them if i’d want to get my nails done.”
he nods, arm resting on the length of the table as he slouches in his seat. bakugou struggles to make eye contact with you. instead he’s filled with embarrassment and rosy red cheeks. “yeah. i know you don’t get them done usually but i was thinkin’ of all the possibilities.”
“and you were double checking if i’d like the ring.”
his eyes dim, flickering over at you, “i know you’ll love it. just overthinkin’ everythin’.”
“you were asking if you should do it tonight.”
he sighs loud and dramatic, “every time i see you i ask them beforehand. one time you were wearing comfy clothes on a date so i thought you wouldn’t want it then ‘cause of photos, another time you were upset about work so that wasn’t the day. i was thinkin’ of takin’ you abroad somewhere but all our ‘places’ are in this city. then whether i should get professional photographers? i wanted to do it today, it’s the reason i’m sweatin’ through this goddamn shirt.”
you gasp, “i thought that was the guilt from cheating on me. i honestly thought you were going to break up with me. taking me out on one good last date before putting me down like a dog.”
“baby,” he lightly chuckles, then throws his head back, “guess it’s not a secret anymore. i fucked that up.”
you pout, “i still haven’t seen the ring, honey.”
bakugou lifts his head up and you rub your foot against his under the table, “i’m honey now?”
“you’re my sweet bumblebee.”
bakugou’s flushed cheeks don’t let up so he rolls his eyes in defence.
“what did mina and momo say?”
“askin’ them for advice. how they’d like to be proposed to. didn’t really matter ‘cause you’re not them. mina wants to it to happen on a yacht. she needs to get a man first.”
you kick his shin lightly, a small smile on your cheeks. “well i feel better now i know we’re not breaking up.”
“i felt like throwin’ up every time you’ve told me you’re on your way or i’ve been on my way to you. that’s why i’ve been so quiet. tryin’ not to blow up over my dashboard.” he curses, clicking his tongue and looking anywhere but your face.
finally, you let the waiter take your plates and you and katsuki really look at each other. it’s as if you both release a deep sigh from the pit of your stomach.
“sorry for thinking you were cheating on me.” you say, rubbing your foot along his shin.
“nah, i’d think i was too with the way i was actin’. i just want it to be fuckin’ right. everything you’ve dreamed of,” he rubs under his nose, a light pout on his lips as he talks.
“i never really dreamed of marriage so anything with you would be perfect, honey.” you soothe, then you frown, “does that mean you were trying for propose on the boat ride we went on last month? wait… do you have the ring on you now?”
bakugou subconsciously taps his slacks pocket. the velvet box right in there.
he’s got no time to reply because you’re already jumping halfway across the table, “let me see it, kats. let me see!”
“i’m not showin’ you now! you see it when i propose properly. i’m not proposin’ today. the moment’s gone.”
he’s acting like a grump, it makes you want to coo, grab his cheeks and kiss him all over. usually it’s him calming you down, telling you everything will be alright but what’s a relationship without shifting responsibilities?
“did you think i was going to say no?” you smile, your head resting in your palm.
bakugou still can barely look at you, especially with you beautifully smiling at him without a care in the world. he’s missed this with you, desperately. everything has been so painfully stressful regarding you because he needs to have it perfect. he couldn’t not have the proposal be perfect.
bakugou shrugs, an awkward laugh as he scratches his head, “well yeah, baby. there’s a possibility you don’t want my ass forever.”
“hm. okay.” you grin.
that gets him frowning, leaning over the table to get closer, “wait, you’d say yes. wouldn’t you?”
“i’ll let that be the surprise whenever you propose!”
“baby.”
“bakugou katsuki.”
“you’re gonna be a bakugou whether you like it or not.” he grunts and your giggles flow out uncontrollably.
“that’s the confidence we need, honey.” you hum and bakugou rolls his eyes, stretching his jaw side to side as he stares you down. “but in all honestly, wait a little. you’re going to be nervous either way but just wait till you’re calmer. we’re in no rush.”
bakugou sighs. “can i ask you questions? so it’s perfect whenever i get the balls to do it.”
“ask away.”
“do you want your nails done?”
you shrug, “they hardly ever are so it’s okay if they’re not.”
bakugou jots that down mentally. “you’d want photographers, right? for your insta?”
that gets you laughing, “i would. do you have any right now waiting on your command?”
bakugou’s blush deepens, “sorta. i have one that’s about fifteen minutes away if i were to do it.”
your lips go into an o shape. “that’s cute, katsuki. wow.”
“i’ve prepared some stuff,” he says shyly, “i was gonna do it here. this is the first restaurant i took you to four years ago.”
you blink, taking in the space once again. this was the exact same booth also! he was stuttering away that day, swearing too much while you giggled at every other word he said. you were already obsessed with him. he was planning on already asking you to be his girlfriend.
“fuck. you didn’t even notice, did you?” he rubs his palm over his face.
“i was too focused on the fact that you were cheating on me!”
“i wasn’t!”
“i know that now!”
the waiter swiftly walks over sliding your mains over the table. the smile on your face stays, in fact you feel elated right now. the best you’ve ever been with katsuki. and katsuki, well. he feels like he failed a mission but gained you again along the way.
“no more proposal talk. i’ll sort it later. how’ve you been? really? i hate that this has made you cry. i’ll make it up to you.” he rambles, pulling your chair closer to the table by his foot. “gonna spend these next few days with you. apologise for everythin’.”
“i do miss kissing you.”
“i’ll kiss you all over. ‘m sorry.”
“and i miss going on casual dates and hearing about work and laying on the sofa doing nothing with you.”
bakugou nods, taking it all in. “we’ll go back to how we were. i missed you too.”
katsuki ends up proposing to you, completely unexpected, two months later. he told you it’s easier if you guys walk to the brunch spot he wants to take you to. so through the park, holding hands, bakugou rambles on, somewhat nervously about how much he loves you. you don’t think anything of it, already wanting to bring him in for a cuddle and a kiss. but everything switches when he drops onto one knee.
one by one your friends and family appear. getting up from benches and his friends, from behind trees.
there are two photographers that are present. just like you wanted. you’re going to have so many options for your instagram dump.
and when bakugou asks you the question, you give him the same answer you would have said months ago.
synopsis. sukuna and his friends spontaneously attended an indie rock concert, not knowing much about you. but it was safe to say he was hooked (and you were too).
content warnings. rockstar!reader x ryomen sukuna, beabadoobee is reader’s faceclaim, toxic behaviour(if u squint idk), reader is a liiittle mean but sukuna is right where he wants to be, satoru gojo (in a silly homosexual way), heavy make-out sessions
author’s note. i know i still have another series that i haven’t finished but i’ll be honest, i had this in mind for a hot minute and wanted to get it out in the world!! hope you guys enjoy it<33
OKAY bakugou who’s temporarily living in another country to train with an agency and he’s lonely and bored when he’s not training so hes on youtube, sees a band and he enjoys their music. thinks they’re really good!!! probably listens to their music a lot over a month. then on their instagram (which he doesn’t follow lol) they post if there’s any drummers nearby that can play for them for a show coming up at a bar because theirs quit!!! he thinks about it for ages. bakugou is a drummer, not professionally but his friends back home say he’s good at it. so he dms them on his private account and they get back to him! ask him to come over one day to one of the guys houses to try out.
he goes to the guys house, meets the three guys. they’re set up in a garage. they say they’re desperate and bkg being mysterious and cool and new to the town is like yeah whatever i’m free that weekend so im available. tells them he’s never played live before minus a thing for his school a few years ago. he plays a little for them and the three boys think he’s amazing! immediately asking if he can join. they like his vibe, he defo doesn’t look like them (bkgs BUILT AND MUSCLED while they’re a little scrawny but it works) bakugou who’s not the best at making new friends, so awkward. he’s like sure. he says hes busy often though but he can make weekends work mostly. can practice some nights when he’s not working.
i think he randomly at a practice shares that he’s actually a pro hero, part of an agency nearby and the guys are like WOW. they find dynamight’s instagram with about 300k followers and they’re like WOW!!!!! he’s big in japan.
and i think you come in as maybe one of the guys sisters. bakugou’s finally making friends in this new town and he really actually gets on with these three dudes. but then you are popping in the practices. telling them to shut up because you’re studying or you just came home from work. bakugou sees you when you’re dressed up to go out with your friends. when they’re all in the kitchen getting a quick sandwich and you walk in in your pyjamas. maybe even looking like you’ve been crying. best friends sister situation.
and obviously you think this new blonde guy is fine as hell. bakugou assuming you won’t like him or even find him attractive. you’re wayyyy out of his league.
SYNOPSIS: you ask your boyfriend what language he thinks in.
NOTES: suggestive, 18+, you speak english, established relationship, cosy n sleepy. probably needs another proofread aha
your bedroom is toasty, with remnants of your citrus honey perfume you sprayed on before you rushed to work in the morning and lingers of your boyfriend’s infamous smoky sweet smell from where he undressed moments ago to lay beside you.
under the covers beside bakugou katsuki, you couldn’t imagine anywhere safer. you both purposely decided to go to bed early (early for you, not for him) just so you had enough time to make out like teenagers.
you’re in your pyjamas, a lilac soft camisole and old granny striped panties from years ago. they’ve slightly lost their elasticity, a little out of shape but that’s the reason you love them so. also they always manage to get a hearty laugh from katsuki despite their lack of sex appeal. they don’t bother him, he’ll still tug them off with his teeth.
you’ve got your pale pink silk bonnet on, tied to a bow around your head. you’ve tried getting bakugou to wear one, protecting his blonde locks but you’re lost on getting it to stay during the night. it ends up by his feet on the bed, the floor, his face, one time your face. you’ve given up, buying him a silk pillowcase for when he stays over.
the silk is cold on your cheek as you share a pillow on your double bed. nose to nose, body to body.
katsuki is way too big for your bed, the width of his shoulder covers half of your side and it’s something you should complain about… though you can’t when all that toned raw muscle cuddles you to his chest.
it’s quiet in your room, aside from the smacking of your lips, katsuki’s low grumbles that rumble from the pit of his stomach. then when he bites on your bottom lip, it’s a little whine that accidentally flutters out.
it’s a few seconds of staring at your sleepy lover in the dark while your lips are apart, breathless. your hand cups his cheeks and bakugou tugs you closer to him by your hip. you know he’s aroused, he struggles to hide it on a good day but in your bed with his guard down, he finds no reason to.
he squeezes your waist harshly, pushing out a shaky exhale from you like a squeaky toy.
“you’re so beautiful,” he mumbles, guttural like the truth is pulled out from him without his permission. being alone with you does this to him. has him struggling to lie and not say what’s on his mind. katsuki wouldn’t have it any other way.
his skin is shiny from the expensive moisturiser you recommended, making him appear like a baby that just got doused in vaseline. luscious. healthy and stunning with his plucked eyebrows and scar right under his cheekbone.
“no, you are,” you reply, shutting him up by giving him another kiss.
it’s a leisurely kiss. you feel his jaw widen as he tilts his head over yours. your tongues tangle for fun, as if you’re playing a pointless game where you’re both going to win. bakugou manages to suck on yours and without meaning to another whine slips from you.
the only thing on your mind is bakugou katsuki.
you pull away from him, a quick peck on his lip before blinking at him.
“what?” katsuki breathes, tapping your ass cheek twice before resting back on your waist. then he decides to sneak his hand under your cami, his hand cosy under the fabric.
“what language do you think in?” you ask, running the pad of your thumb over his cheek scar.
“why’re you thinkin’ about that?” he rubs his top lip on his septum then he grabs your hand off his face to kiss your thumb. he’s always transferring your love back to you.
you hum inconspicuously, “i’m thinking about you.”
“japanese, baby. then i translate in my head to talk to you.”
katsuki wants to go back to feeling his lips over yours, tasting every inch of you. but now he’s studying the sleepy sadness in your eyes, how you jut out your bottom lip like you’ve just been wronged.
you’re not wearing anything under your camisole so he’s able to run his thumb on the underside of your breasts.
“what’s wrong with that?” he asks, trying to figure you out.
bakugou katsuki finds that having a girlfriend often means having to learn another new language. that when you tuck yourself away from him after an argument in the car, it means you want him to talk and not that you need space. that when you want to get dessert, he has to also say yes. you can’t get dessert alone, even if he doesn’t want any.
you huff softly, running your hand down his bare stone carved chest to the rim of his cotton shorts.
“it sounds like a lot of work you have to do mentally to be with me. i want it to be easy.”
bakugou frowns. you’re disappointed, fucking heartbroken by the looks of it. he wants to laugh, how silly you can get when your unfiltered thoughts come out. you wouldn’t admit something like this during the day, you’d probably make a joke that he should be working his brain to keep up with you.
but you’re softened and closer to the dreamworld than you are on the bed with him.
“it’s not like that, princess. i don’t gotta think twice,” he half shrugs, “it’s not a conscious thing anymore. i just think and out my mouth is english. nothin’ deep.”
you’re not having it, sighing to yourself, “i’m gonna get really good at japanese for you. i’m not bad at it.”
“your pronunciation is amazin’,” he smiles at you, ducking forward to kiss your lips.
“thanks,” you mumble, opting to feel him up instead.
your hand smooths up his chunky bicep, then down the deep chisels of his back. bakugou thinks you’ve moved on, that he can go back to smushing his face against your pretty one when you speak again.
“there’s a whole world in your head i don’t know about.”
you look at his necklace when you speak, an old gold chain of yours that you gave to him. it was too thick on you and it suits him perfectly. you tug on it, feeling each ridge between your fingers.
“hm?” he pushes you to explain.
“words that can’t translate. the dreams you must have. you know how you can read translated poetry and the notes about the poem are longer than the poem itself? that’s your head and i’m outside of it.” you whisper, holding onto his chain while you kiss him like you feel lonely. though he’s right there.
but bakugou doesn’t pout back. you’ve got him thinking.
“you should be an outsider when i’m with you and your friends or you and your family. i think i know english and then you’re saying words and phrases that i can’t understand. all sounds like gibberish to me.”
“that’s like made up words and slang. you’re still fluent. it’s not the same,” you poke back.
bakugou chuckles, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes. he pulls your hand to rest on the centre of his chest and he places his hand over yours. you feel the gentle patter of his heartbeat, it soothes you.
“‘m not fuckin’ fluent.”
you nudge closer to him, unable to not be all over him for a second. you sling your leg over his waist, hugging him to you and running your nose along his ear.
“yes you are. you know everything.”
“you don’t know what it’s like to argue with you.”
that makes you pause which makes bakugou turn back on his side to look at you.
you purse your lips then relax, “what do you mean?”
“when you’re mad at me, you speak fast as hell, usually cussing me with words i’ve never thought to put together and you’re so quick with it. so fuckin’ quick.”
you’re unsure how being quick is different to speaking fast.
bakugou can tell you’re still confused. “my brain just can’t keep up. like i’m still translatin’ the last sentence and now you’re tellin’ me to go fuck myself ‘cause i’m a shit piece.”
you giggle at that. piece of shit, he knows.
“i think you’re making excuses because i’m always right,” you play.
bakugou shrugs, “maybe baby. but it’s so fuckin’ hard. i know what i wanna say when we argue but then you’re already on to the next point and i haven’t answered the first and then ‘cause i’m not talkin’ ‘cause im tryin’ to think, you think i don’t care.”
it’s easier to talk about arguing when you’re not arguing.
“oh kats. that makes me sad. i’ll be more patient—,”
“no, no. i wanna be able to handle it.” he squeezes your hand.
“it’s not something to handle. i see when you argue with kiri and deku. you’re quick then, even though i don’t know what you’re talking about,”
bakugou grins, “i do like when you call me a fuckin’ dickhead.” he mimics your accent, his own chesty chuckle falling out when you put your hand on his face and grimace loudly.
he kisses the centre of your palm and the tickle causes you to pull away.
“i’ll be better for you,” you whisper and bakugou shakes his head.
“no, i will.” you finalise.
bakugou sighs softly, knowing your mind won’t change.
you chew the inside of your cheek, a sign you’re dying to speak.
“go on then, baby.” he smiles.
“english isn’t even a romantic language. nothing sounds pretty, if anything it’s a pretty evil language—,”
bakugou stuffs his head into your neck, pushing you back into the bed softly. he begins nibbling on a soft spot before resting his lips on top in a wet kiss. he rubs over your lower back in slow circles.
“too much thinkin’, baby,” he works on your neck, loving how you mould your body into his, “it’s romantic ‘cause i’m talkin’ to you. your birthday cards, even your texts to me sound like poetry.”
you grunt to yourself. you are a good writer.
“you speak english at work. it’s not always romantic for you.”
bakugou rests on his forearm, hovering over you. “i can speak any language i want at work and people will find a way to listen.”
there’s the humility you love in your boyfriend.
“but i love talkin’ and understandin’ you. your big ass world in there,” he taps your temple with the tip of your finger, “the only benefit to knowin’ this language is i get to know you.”
you awe before you can help it and bakugou hangs his head in a blush. he manhandles your body with a single hand, pulling you closer under his arm.
“maybe english is romantic.” you hum, “and don’t lie to me. you need english for me and to watch those american superhero movies without subtitles.”
bakugou looks up at you grinning, nudging his nose into your cheek, “not true. the japanese dub is sick. rather listen to it in japanese.”
you can’t push your smile off, “so just me?”
he nods like a lovesick fool, droopy sleepy eyes and a wandering hand. “just you, princess.”
with your mind settled and tonight’s questions answered, you and bakugou go back to learning each other's language.
this time bakugou lets you sink your tongue into his mouth. wet kiss after wet kiss, your nails satisfyingly scratching through his hair and scalp.
bakugou moans into your mouth, sending vibrations throughout your body. “i love you.”
“i love you and thank you for letting me win all the arguments. you need to level up before you can fight me,” you giggle against his lips.
bakugou rolls his eyes, he’s got you back, bubbly and tender in his arms.
“yeah, yeah, princess,” he grins at you, looking over your body. he brushes his hand over your clothed groin, your fluffy pubic hair all tucked under your high waisted panties. “d’you wanna take these off for me? wanna hear you moan for me.”
you look like he just offered to eat you out. shiny eyes, pawing down his chest, finger already hooking in your underwear.
“head, please,” you say politely, the sweet back and forth that gets you internally giggling at yourself and bakugou always rolling his eyes.
“that’s a word i learnt from you. head. through context clues and all. didn’t learn that at school in japan.” he shakes his head, helping you yank off your underwear. he tucks the fabric under his pillow to find it easily later.
“what would you call it? cunnilingus?” you look at your boyfriend, shirtless and sexy, hike your legs over his shoulders as he ducks down to lay on his stomach between your legs.
“the fuck is that?” he blurts, forcing his eyes from your glistening pussy to your pretty face, hitched up from your pillow.
“the proper word for eating pussy.” you say.
bakugou blinks at you, “repeat it f’me.”
“cunnilingus.”
bakugou repeats it after you as if he’s tasting every syllable on his tongue. though since he’s so close to you, your hips inch up in his face without meaning to.
he ignores you for the time being, “i don’t like that word.”
“w-what would you say?” you ask, licking your bottom lip. despite the rising heat over your body, you’re still curious.
“eating pussy.” he smirks like an idiotic boy that just said a bad word. he spreads your thighs apart, rubbing his cheek against your inner thigh.
“oh. duh,” you laugh flustered, thoughts all on a one track road. he’s so gorgeous. sexy. you wanna drag him up to kiss him, you also wanna be touched. “can you? eat my pussy?”
bakugou says something to you, full japanese with beaming cheeks. his lips curl around every syllable, fluent and unfamiliar to you yet home on katsuki’s tongue. his smile doesn’t let up, he punctuates his comment by kissing your thigh.
“what?” you whimper, breathless just from his mouth close to your centre.
“said you’re a brat.” he translates, spreading you open with his thumbs. damn. he might have to fuck you after.
“yours, though.”
he agrees, looking straight at your wet folds just from a little kissing. he ensures that he says his next words directly to you so there’s no mistranslation, “mine. and i’m yours.”
comments n tags appreciated! part two comments will be deleted.
↬ synopsis :: your a freshman in college when you meet this amazing group of friends, you've only known them for a semester and you're sure you'd jump in front of a train for all of them. except, they'd never do the same for you. that's what you tell yourself anyway.
↬ tw: angstt, slowburn, reader has low self esteem & insecurities about her value/purpose as a person, bakugo is kinda a blunt asshole, polybakusquad x reader, (mina not romantically included for this one srry 😔) highly suggestive, implied sex—no smut, lowercase on purpose, incorrect portrayal of collage housing, courses, lifestyle etc. underage ingestine of weed/alcohol, happy ending, plot improv, slow updates
i :: ﴾ paranoia ﴿
➘ you smoke too much with your friends.
ii :: ﴾ avoid at all costs ﴿
➘ ignoring 4 people is alot harder than you expected.
iii: ﴾ getting over it ﴿
➘ apparently you find yourself immune to feelings. or not.
iv: ﴾ out of the loop ﴿
➘ the boys were busy while you were gone.
v: ﴾ hey party people ﴿
➘ social gatherings aren't your strong suit, clearly.
vi: ﴾ ﴿
➘ tbc
⌗ ... short series! have fun. ( crossposted on ao3 )
a few people asked, just to be clear, i don't do taglists of anyform, please stalk for updates! happy reading! 🫶🏾
꒰ 爆豪勝己 ꒱ › katsuki loves the lotus position. mdni.
whipped! pro hero! bakugou x fem! reader. unprotected piv. clït stim. breäst play. body worship ? multiple örgasms implied ❤︎
katsuki’s never understood people who can exist alongside someone they love without constantly reaching for them. the distance, no matter how small, nags at him. he needs you to crawl into his ribcage, needs your heart to beat against his, needs your bodies pressed together until he can’t tell where he ends and you begin.
which is why he loves the lotus position. he loves having you in his lap like this. your legs wrapped around his waist, ankles locked behind his back. chest flush against his, faces so close he can feel your eyelashes flutter when you blink. feel every breath you take, feel your walls flutter greedily around his cock. feel every subtle shift of your muscles, every rapid beat of your heart against his sternum. every inch of him touching every inch of you, he’s truly at peace.
his crimson eyes are hazy as he gazes at you. he brushes his nose against yours. lingering there for a second before doing it again. and again. before closing the sliver of space between you. lips meeting yours in a kiss that’s more love than lust. there’s no rush, no urgency.
one of his hands, which had been resting firmly on the small of your back, traces a slow path upward, calloused fingers splayed wide between your shoulder blades. the other cups the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin just below your ear.
katsuki is never satisfied with just kissing you, with just rocking his hips against yours. he needs to merge with you, to absorb the air from your lungs the second it enters them, to bypass skin and bone and muscle until he’s curled up in the very center of your being.
but then he feels the subtle shift in your chest, the way your breath hitches ever slightly. he’s not an idiot. he knows you need to breathe. frustration rumbles in his chest as he — very reluctantly — breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to create a sliver of space between your lips, but his forehead stays pressed firmly against yours. half-lidded gaze taking in the rise and fall of your chest and your glossy, kiss-bitten lips parting slightly as you gasp for the air he so selfishly stole from you. a muscle ticks in his jaw as he fights the urge to just kiss you breathless again
“still with me ?” he manages to grit out. you nod and he exhales a shaky breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. “good,” he murmurs “can’t have you tapping out on me yet”
his hands drift up your sides, brushing against the undersides of your breasts. you shiver, and he smiles against your skin smugly. he cups your tits, kneading them gently, thumbs circling your nipples until they’re pebbled and aching for more. he leans in, tracing an areola with his tongue before sucking gently. his hand continues its work on your other breast, thumb and forefinger rolling and pinching slowly.
he’s in his element. reveling in the taste of your skin on his tongue and the soft sounds you’re trying so hard to suppress. he wants to hear them, wants to pull them from your throat one by one until you’re screaming his name. his hips begin to grind in perfect sync with the rhythm of his mouth until you’re writhing against him desperately. “katsuki . . .”
“patience, baby,” he releases your nipple with a wet pop, blowing cool air on the damp skin, watching goosebumps rise on your skin. “got all night. wanna make you feel reaaal good.”
he looks up at you, crimson eyes flooded with need that mirrors your own. then he’s kissing you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth, greedily swallowing your moans as his fingers trace a path down your torso. his palm presses flat against your lower belly, right where you can feel the pressure of him inside you. he smirks as he dips into the hollow of your hips, then lower.
“mghh” you’re trembling as his fingers slide through your slick folds. gasping into his mouth, hips bucking involuntarily. he’s so close, but he’s not touching you where you need him most. “please ‘suki,” you whimper against his lips, the word torn from your throat. you need him just as much as he needs you.
“always so damn impatient” he pants but he finally rubs slow, sweet circles on your already swollen and sensitive clit. ministrations too much and not enough at the same time. you’re dripping all over him. filthy, lewd squelches filling the space between your gasps with every pass of his thumb over the bundle of nerves.
you clench down, a vice-like grip around his cock. his thumb presses harder, circles on your clit spinning a little faster. the lotus position leaves you no room to escape the overwhelming sensation. every desperate roll of your hips grinds your clit against his fingers, buries his cock even deeper, and forces you to feel the unyielding pressure of his tip brushing that sensitive spot inside you.
katsuki revels in it. in the mess you’re making just for him. in the way your slick coats his fingers, your inner thighs, the base of his cock still buried deep inside you. he loves the way your body reacts to him, the way your breath hitches, the way your walls clench down even harder around him every time he brushes against your sweet spot. he loves watching you fall apart, loves knowing he’s the one making you feel this way.
his eyes are fixed on you, pupils blown wide, swallowing the crimson of his irises. he’s memorizing every every subtle shift in your expression. he’s watching the way your eyelids flutter, struggling to stay open. the way your lips part. the bead of sweat tracing a path down your temple, following the curve of your jaw. he doesn’t miss a thing. it’s like he’s trying to burn this image of you directly onto the back of his eyelids.
you feel exposed in a way that has nothing to do with your nudity. heat crawls up your neck, burning your cheeks. you instinctively break eye contact and try to hide your face in the sweat-damp crook of his shoulder. and of course, he’s far from pleased
“nuh-uh,” he tuts, his free hand, the one not currently torturing your clit, comes up to tangle in your hair, gripping gently but firmly. he uses the leverage to pry you away from the curve of his neck, “don’t you dare hide from me.”
“well stop staring at me.” you mumble, squeezing your eyes shut.
“i’ll stare all i damn want to,” he scoffs. “now open your eyes so i can see how pretty they look when you cum” his grip on you loosens, his voice loses its edge, “please. . .”
it’s the closest he’ll ever get to begging. you can’t really deny him, not when he’s making you feel so good. so you let your eyes flutter open. you let him look. you let him see all of you, you let him see the way your pupils dilate, the way your lips falls apart. the way tears prick at the corners of your eyes as he rocks you into oblivion, coaxes orgasm after orgasm out of you. and he watches it all, committing every gasp, every tear, every tremor to his long-term memory.
he doesn’t let up. even when your legs tremble uncontrollably and his muscles scream in protest from being folded for so long. he just shifts his weight, pulling you impossibly closer. because this is what he craves. what he needs. what he lives for: being skin to skin, heart to heart, until your very souls merge into one.
imagine finding out that your best friend bakugou has never sent anyone a dick pic. everyone's razzing him over it, and he's just like whoever i'm fucking can just come the fuck over at look at my dick why the fuck do i need to do a photoshoot with it????
"my dick ain't in fuckin' vogue you fucks" end quote
unfortunately. you realize you've created a monster in that moment.
because years worth of resolutely ignoring your very secret very unspoken never to be mentioned crush on bakugou katsuki are violently tossed out the window in favor of the knowledge that (1) bakugou has a very big dick (2) bakugou has a very nice dick (3) bakugou takes very very very flattering pictures of his nice, big dick.
naturally your fight or flight response leads you to send the only string of words that your brain is capable of putting together as you otherwise muffle a pathetic moan against the hand clasped against your mouth, face hot.
no videos????? coward
(bakugou forgets to stop recording after a few strokes. forgets that his phone can pick up every sound, every pant. every rough groan of your name as he fucks his fist till he cums hard all over his bare stomach.)
Tendou turned down the last couple of hangouts so he could be with Y/N. Semi was sick of his shit.
Tendou knew he could bring Y/N around -> he just wanted to be selfish for a little while with her attention.
He also did not want to deal with Semi flirting with Y/N. Y/N knows it's not serious flirting, so she used to play along on with it back in hs.
Y/N shares her location with the second years. Ennoshita lowkey enjoys keeping tabs on them.
Tendou ended up drinking more than he should’ve because he was irritated with Semi and Goshiki taking up Y/N’s attention. (They only saw him take two shots, that wasn’t all he had)
Semi was adding fuel to the fire by flirting with Y/N.
Tendou did attempt to go onstage when they opened the mic up to the public.
Y/N slipped out early because she didn’t want Tendou to know he held her all night. She also did have plans to help Tanaka plan his proposal.
ღ summary: Your (not so) quiet crush on Sanji through Nami’s eyes
ღ pairing: Sanji x fem!reader
ღ warnings: Disgusting(ly bad) flirting :D not an established relationship but they act like a couple anyway! reader with long-ish hairr, she's chalant af
Nami finds out about your crush on Sanji during girls night.
You don’t know what was better, when no one knew about this thing you had for him, or having your best friend aware, which meant that you finally had someone else to rave on about Sanji and everything that he is.
She calls you “lame”, but the truth is that you are helpless.
You’re seated on a twirly chair in front of the vanity, right foot up on the cushioned surface to better polish your toes. They’re a vivid coral, matching the ones on your fingers. Nami’s lying upside down on her cot across from you, hands behind her head and feet up against the wall like it’s nobody’s business. She's finished her toes already, all coated in a beautiful teal that compliments her hair.
Everything is perfect tonight. As perfect as being bountied pirates on a ship can get. The flower scented candles around the girls’ cabin run warm, making sweetness blossom around the room. Your beds are made perfectly, pillows fluffed up just the way you like it. You and Nami move with an unspoken understanding, of unwinding and finally taking time to yourselves after a day full of adventure.
The sound of the sea has been quietly lulling the two of you into peace, though you have to delay your sleep for an extra hour of chatting away your complaints.
Girls night always welcomes honesty—when you and Nami can talk about everything the boys would never understand. And she’s being real truthful alright, hand enthusiastically waving around like a maestro to her own words.
And of course, the current topic of conversation was the blonde, women-loving cook in your crew.
Nami can be blunt, to say the least. It’s what you appreciate most about her, although you wish she’d soften her words up just a little bit.
Or maybe try to see him the way you do.
“He’s a lot.”
She’s talking about typical Sanji behavior. The incessant flirting, the hovering and his I-live-to-serve-women attitude, which she’s convinced is some type of overcompensation.
You definitely don’t think it’s annoying. If anything, you think it’s really sweet that he tries his hardest to impress Nami.
Matter of fact, you love it when he tries to impress the girls on this ship. Fortunately for you, the only two available ones include an independent, no-bullshit navigator who doesn’t easily fall for his smooth-talking. Now that just leaves him to focus more of his affection onto you, and you absolutely love being the center of his attention.
You bite your lips, trying to hold back your laughter. “I mean, he’s intense for sure.”
She rolls her eyes at your attempts to soften her complaints, and she truly can’t find it in her to understand why you would defend the cook. “Annoying.”
“I think it’s kind of cute.”
A beat of silence.
And then Nami literally whips her head to face you so fast you’d think you were a treasure made of a trillion berries.
The sight she’s greeted with is one she will never forget. And not in a pleasant way, because you look positively, 100%, absolutely sure about the words you just uttered out of your mouth.
You’re hugging both your legs up to your chest, lips still bitten in a silent restraint. You’re actually melting into yourself, lost somewhere in the clouds as you swing yourself right and left in your chair.
Where do you even begin?
From memorizing your likes and dislikes,—and not just about food—attending to your needs, whether you voice them or not, and genuinely wanting to know you for who you are. Sanji somehow manages to embrace who you were, who you are now and who you hope to become in the future, all in the same breath.
He is never quiet with the way he loves. God forbid he doesn’t worry about others for even one day. He’s dramatic, over-the-top, theatrical. All the synonyms of spectacular you can find in the dictionary. But also grounded, selfless, and so genuine that it makes your teeth ache and your heart clench erratically.
Sanji treats you with a kind of gentleness that makes you think you’re the most precious diamond in the Blue Sea. You are. To him. He never ceases to convince you of so.
So it’s an absolute no-brainer that you think he is the one for you. If not the only man ever. And, the fact that you aren’t alone in this fortifies your belief. You and Sanji have your own thing. A quiet game that only you seem to understand the rules of. A kind of connection that isn’t defined by or bound to labels; one that grew from quiet glances and secret smiles. The others may not notice—for now. They’d probably brush it off as you being kind to Sanji and finding genuine friendship in him.
But you like it that way, and you really, really like him. You don’t need to say it out loud, because you’re sure he knows you do. You’re content with what you have because you can feel it that he reciprocates.
You are his just as much as he is yours.
“Say that again.” Nami pumps out the sentence like she can’t believe her own ears. She’s fully upright now, propping her upper body with her hands. She leans towards you as if it’ll make her hear better.
“I think..” you mimic her pose and lean your chest forward, palms resting on both knees as if preparing to tell her a secret, “—that he’s kind of cute.”
It’s he, now. Not it, anymore.
God, you are hopeless. And crazy.
“You’re kidding.” The navigator hits you with the most deadpan stare you’ve ever seen her muster in her life.
Nami tries to look back at all your past interactions with Sanji. From the first time you joined the crew to the most recent ones. Then it all clicks for her—like a puzzle piece to answer a question she’s never bothered to ask.
It starts with the way you get quiet when Sanji’s around, a secret smile and an undeniable warmth seldom missing from your face. Gosh, you’re so shy when he talks to you sometimes. It’s crazy that it didn’t register to her because you’re typically always so sure of yourself. Then it’s how you never, ever brush off his attempts at flattery. How your sweet compliments always seemed to be drowned out by Luffy’s shouts and Zoro’s arguing. She looks back at the way you naturally gravitate towards him. It didn't matter if you were on the ship, jumping from island-to-island, in the middle of a fight or simply lounging around with the rest of the crew, you always found your way right beside him.
Huh.
It was all in her face the entire time. Loud and apologetic. She feels silly at the fact that she’s never thought to even look because she couldn’t fathom that any woman could genuinely put up with him. And you never denied anything either—not when there wasn’t anything to deny in the first place.
Her words set you off like a pirate looking for the one piece.
“Nami don’t you ever dream of a guy who’ll sweep you off your feet?”
You’re breathless, absolutely lost in your own daydreams as you twirl around your chair with a force that could blow the Going Merry across the Grand Line. There are stars in your eyes, genuinely. Your hands shoot up in a rainbow above your head, and your body melts further into the seat.
Something’s definitely gotten into you.
“And Sanji’s that guy for you?!” She exclaims. You watch her go through all the 7 stages of grief in the span of 3 seconds.
You laugh at her silliness, and then you’re back to swooning again.
It was as if she’d unlocked your inner beast. A lovesick, crazy girl who was spouting her dreams of romance and everything that was butterflies and rainbows. A woman who was absolutely mooning over Sanji.
From then on the navigator makes it her mission to uncover where this crush of yours came from. She can try asking the rest of the crew, but she’s 98% sure the boys are oblivious to this, or simply aren’t as perturbed as she is. (Because how has no one questioned this before?!)
Starting wasn’t hard. At all. Turns out you and Sanji are shameless. It just takes the right time for someone to pay attention and see how deep the connection runs between the two of you.
It happens bright and early a few days later. Nami—by instinct or intuition—woke up to an empty cabin. Your bed looked freshly mussed, like you couldn’t be bothered to tidy it up before getting up. She looked through the small window, greeted by the sight of the barely peeking sun in the darkness of the horizon. Way too early for anyone to be up. Except for Sanji, who she knows is already prepping for breakfast in the galley. And conveniently, you seem to be missing in action as well. It doesn't take much to put two and two together.
She catches you right as you are entering the kitchen.
Of course, Sanji is already busying himself on the counter, chopping an array of fresh fruits into—what Nami can’t see—hearts.
“Mon trésor.”
It barely takes a second for you to enter before Sanji is calling out to you, gaze immediately snapping towards your figure. He doesn’t need his sight to know that it’s you. He can’t admit that it’s because he’s memorized the weight of your steps on the ship, and the sweet scent of your perfumed clothes.
A lit cigarette hangs off from his lips, though he quickly puts it away when you make your way to the dining table.
You rub your eyes tiredly, hand then moving down to hug yourself closer in an attempt to chase some warmth. “Hi, Sanji.”
He’s melting at the sight of you.
This might just be his favorite part of the morning, second only to when you start talking to him. You’re in your pajamas still, shirt hanging loosely over your bare shoulders. Absolutely radiant, and so domestic. You can barely open your eyes in the morning sun, and the way you carry yourself feels heavier, but more honest. Relaxed. A good sign that you slept well.
Sanji doesn’t fight off the small flush that makes itself known across his face.
“Do you know that every time you say my name an angel gains its wings?”
You grin at the early morning flattery while you settle down on your seat. You could look like the messiest thing on the ship and Sanji will find a way to compliment you regardless. “Heaven must love me,”
“Heaven would be a fool not to love you, darling.” It doesn’t take even a beat for him to answer, and the cook puts down his knife to come closer. He makes a point to lean his face down to yours to greet you with an open teeth grin.
And that genuinely brings a giggle out of you, leaving Nami mildly disgusted.
When he's finally seen your smile, he returns back to the stove, slathering butter over the surface of a pan. The familiar rich aroma and the oddly calming sizzling sound makes you soften into yourself. You slouch onto the countertop, folding your elbows into each other and laying your chin on top. “I take it that this is a good morning for you?”
“Everyday better when I see your beautiful face.” He curls his lips into a smile, sneaking a quick glance at you before winking.
Thank goodness he goes back to focusing on the pan because you are already throwing your face away to the sea, pursing your lips in a barely restrained smile before burying yourself into the crook of your arms, releasing a hidden breath.
Sanji, that sly man, takes a quick peek from his shoulders. Seeing you, confident you, turn into a flustered puddle from his words makes him puff up so quickly. He wears his pride so boldly on his chest. No one could tell him anything for the rest of the day, and it was insufferable.
Unbeknownst to you, he’s already started on your breakfast. He knows that you’re an early riser, and that you will almost always seek him out first thing in the morning. So everyday he sets out your breakfast ingredients and preps as much as he can. He doesn’t start cooking them before he sees your face, because he only wants the most warm and freshly cooked meal for you.
You notice it though, the way he always serves you first, no matter the time and place. Dinner? A plate of the finest meat for you first (Luffy hates it.) Going over logs with Nami? All the snacks you like are immediately placed in front of you, and a drink to compliment it following behind. He always thinks about your needs first, and if that isn’t love then you don’t know what to believe.
Just as you are in the middle of your daydreaming, Sanji interrupts with the sound of cutlery against porcelain. He’s plating up your mouth-watering breakfast, made to absolute perfection.
“For you madam, golden brown honey toast with freshly whipped cream on top,” he dishes out the plate in front of you, and the aroma itself sends you straight to heaven. “—extra fruit, just the way you like it.”
You didn’t think it was possible to fall deeper in love with him, but you’re proven wrong once you see the fruits that decorate your toast, all of them heart shaped. Both hand-cut and perfectly uniform using the cutter he specifically bought to use for your meals.
You gasp in exaggeration, though deep inside you’re aching about how sweet he is to remember your preferences. “You spoil me,”
“Only the best for my favorite Strawhat.” He answers, pouring you a glass of freshly brewed coffee.
You’re in the middle of cutting your toast in half when you look up at him, teasing by saying, “Don’t let the captain hear you say that.”
Sanji exclaims back to you in all his confidence, turning away as he places the pot on the counter. “Bah! One sirloin steak and he’ll forgive me like it never happened.”
Your giggle is like the brightest melody in his ears, and the words that follow it could bring him back from the dead. “Thank you, my chef~”
“You know my heart can’t take it,” He playfully sighs out your name, clutching his chest. Sanji stands across the table now, resting his chin on his hand against the counter top. Just happy to watch you.
“Delicious!” You continue to shoot honeyed words at him, not just as a means for him to keep sweet-talking you, but also because you think Sanji deserves all the love and goodness of this world.
“Sing me your praises, my angel of music,”
Nami can almost see him propel himself to the sky with giddiness.
“So perfectly crunchy,”
“—and I’m yours forever.” He takes your hand in his from across the aisle, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles as he looks up at you.
Nami felt chills sweeping up her spine.
You guys were so cheesy. But sort of.. cute. That was something she couldn’t deny. She’s never seen Sanji this genuine, and when someone actually reciprocates, it makes him look less like a fool.
And the way you were bouncing back and forth on each other was like a sick game of ping-pong she couldn’t look away from.
She couldn’t figure out for the life of her why you two aren’t together already. It’s perfectly clear that you both feel the same way, and aren’t afraid to act upon it. A small part of her wants to meddle, and she’s halfway into a plan that’ll somehow get either of you to confess to each other, but then she abruptly stops.
Eh, you guys will sort that out yourselves. Eventually. You look like you’re exactly where you want to be. So, Nami shrugs and beelines into the kitchen, hoping to get a fresh plate of breakfast seeing that he’s already started with yours.
The next time Nami catches a moment between the two of you wasn’t intentional. Right, because she wouldn’t be caught dead seeking the conversations you and Sanji had after that traumatizing event.
It was late at night. For once a quiet one between all the chaos that seemed to follow the Strawhat Pirates. Luffy was snoring away somewhere with a full belly, Ussop tinkering away in his cabin, and Zoro likely in the crow’s nest. Nami decided to look for fresh air, feeling a little bit holed up inside her room. Between the gentle rocking of the sea and the soft melody of the waves, it was the perfect atmosphere to spend watching the horizon.
She didn’t mean to overhear your conversation, but the door was open and a ship doesn’t exactly leave much room for privacy. She tried to leave the two of you alone at first, but found herself leaning against the galley wall to listen in in the end.
When she takes a peek through the door, she finds you seated still and pretty on the stool close to him, cross-legged in your pajamas. Like a sous chef who wasn’t really a sous chef but boosted the cook all the same—if not a million times more.
When you first got to the galley, you paid mind to his laser-focused expression. You didn't want to break his flow, so you stuck yourself against the counter at a distance. You were content with the picture of him from afar, but Sanji had absolutely none of it. He began your conversation of the night while silently dragging a stool and placing it right next to him by the stove. Safely away from getting blasted by the heat, but close enough to where he could feel you around him and talk to you without feeling a million miles away.
He’s got on one of your top favorite get-ups: a classic blue striped dress-shirt unbuttoned just the right amount and his pink Doskoi Panda apron tied around the back. Sleeves deliciously rolled up to his elbows for a bonus. Though Nami isn’t attracted to him the way you are, she isn’t blind. She has to admit that the image of his forearms are a sight for sore eyes. Sanji can be quite charming at times, mostly when he keeps the talking to a minimum and does what he does best.
You’re not even hiding it at this point, gaze tracking every languid move of his hands like you were hypnotized.
It’s not hard for you to admire him when he’s deep in his element. You find yourself going quiet, not because you don’t want to talk to him, but because it’s mesmerizing to see the way he commands the kitchen like his own battleship.
There’s a small smile on your lips as you take in the passion he carries, and on your lap you fidget with the shiny silver ring on your thumb. It’s his ring—your favorite one that's shaped like a skull—that he gave to you for “safekeeping”, even though Sanji never ever takes them off. Even when he’s cooking. It’s incredibly intimate; a symbol of his trust for you.
He’s just finished cooking a dish of his own creation. A classic menu made of meat, but a little more experimental with the seasoning. You can only describe it as heaven in a plate, sweet and savory at the same time, with a hint of something that you can't fully describe with words. Yet, you enjoy it for all that it is, and the delectable fragrance isn't something to complain about, either. It’s almost shocking that Luffy hasn’t come running down the kitchen from the smell alone. Sanji isn’t technically done with the recipe, seeing as he’s trying to perfect the ingredients being used. He has his worn-out notepad by the counter, filled with endless scribbles and notes of improvement. The cook will come back to it once you’ve given your own comments on the taste.
Once finished turning down the heat, he takes a clean spoon out of the cabinet and offers you a small portion fresh out of the pan, where the dish was still simmering in the heat.
You feel honored that you are Sanji’s unofficial taste-tester. The first time you came across the cook experimenting with new creations was a complete coincidence. That particular night you’d been restless in bed, stomach aching for a bite of food. You ended up pattering into the galley to get maybe a few crackers, a slice of bread or cheese or something that’d temporarily distract you. But you didn’t expect to feast on a five star meal once Sanji found out you were hungry. You? His precious princess starving? Not on this ship.
What began as compliments to the chef turned into fully fledged reviews of each flavor profile, and eventually became something more intimate. A space for honesty just for you and Sanji.
You like to think that’s where you found the real Sanji. The kind heart beyond the ladies man, the truths behind his endless honeyed words.
You sought him out like a moth to a flame, and every night Sanji welcomed you with open arms.
Most of the times you were there to actually be his taste-tester, which is just his excuse of having a private late dinner with you. But, other times he’s prepping meals for the next day and you’re simply there to keep him company. Either way, you’ll never skip out on an opportunity to spend time alone with Sanji.
Funnily enough, more than once you’ve caught Luffy sneaking in and rummaging through the pantry, already halfway stuffing his face with something that makes Sanji tick before he notices that the two of you are occupying the room. It’s a bit adorable that he doesn’t make a fuss about it. He never questions anything beyond “Hey… are you sneaking for snacks too?!” and then an “Okay!” followed by his high pitched laughter after Sanji kicks him out for offering you the stolen goods from his sticky hands.
You take notice that he never lets Luffy get a bite of his cooking. Sure, if the captain asks, Sanji will make him something, but not from the same pan. A different dish all together. You think that maybe it’s because he isn’t open to someone tasting something he considers isn’t “perfect” yet, but another part of you just believes that it’s because he only trusts you to give him the honest truth.
Still, you find it hard to believe he’d ever need one, considering everything that he makes turns out flawless.
“More seasoning?” The cook watches as you chew on the meat slowly.
You shake your head in disagreement. “No, this is perfect, Sanji.”
“Not too sweet for you?”
Nami sees you visibly recoil at his questions, body moving as if he was spouting blasphemy.
He’s got his back turned to you while he rinses his hands over the sink, so he can’t see the flabbergasted frown on your face.
“This is quite possibly the best thing I’ve ever tasted in my life.” You make an emphasis on the word “best”, sticking the wooden spoon back at him to signal that you wanted more.
“You flatter me, angel.” He grins, pulling the dish towel from his shoulders to wipe his hand. Then he goes straight to follow your command exactly and dips right back into the pan, scooping up a portion before blowing it softly to cool it down.
You’re practically vibrating in your seat, legs bouncing and arms holding up the weight of your body as you lean towards him.
“Nope. I’m just sayin’ the truth!” The words come with a pause as you’re swallowing your last bite, and the brightness comes right back up your face while you praise Sanji.
By the All Blue, he just wants to scoop you up and squeeze you in his arms for all eternity. You can be so shy around him, but also incredibly animated when expressing yourself.
Once Sanji deems it the perfect condition for you, he motions the spoon to your mouth.
It’s a stupidly sweet gesture, and also his way of stopping you from eating the whole thing. You can just take the spoon from him and feed yourself, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like being pampered by Sanji. You’re not ashamed to admit that it makes you feel very special. If you truly weaponized your voice and asked him for the whole pan, he’d give it to you without a single doubt. But, it’d be a shame if he didn’t wait until he could properly serve it with some rice so you could have your very late dinner “date”.
He holds the spoon out for a beat longer to look down at the way your lips wrap around the surface, turning away only when you finish munching happily at the taste. After all, your satisfaction is his number one priority. Nami can’t see your face from where she’s at, but she can absolutely make out Sanji’s, and the way he’s staring is sensual, borderline debauched. It makes the navigator feel like she’s intruding on a private moment.
You are none the wiser to this, Sanji needs to get it together, and Nami’s very close to throwing up in front of the galley.
Your eyes are closed as you hum contentedly once the flavors settle nicely in your stomach, and it’s then when you start to feel the weight of his stare.
You’re only chin level on this short stool, so you have to look up to meet his eyes.
He's quiet and awfully still, taking you all in and leaving no part of you starving for his attention. There's an evident tension swimming around the kitchen, and it makes you acutely aware of just how close you are to him. Inches away. The position is a tad intimate, to say the least.
“What? Is there sauce on my face?”
You know there isn’t anything on your face except for pure happiness, though you’re a tiny bit flustered by his attention.
“Sorry, darling,” He's not sorry at all. He leans in to wipe the non-existent sauce, and for a second you think he’s going to deny his obvious admiration of you but then he pivots into something that is so Sanji it makes your brain melt.
“Your beauty demands to be seen. I can’t deny you that.” He traces the back of his finger over your cheek before tucking a stray hair behind your ear.
Time and time again, Sanji is able to surpass your every expectation. You continue to feel the weight of his stare, now much different than before because he looks at you with deep, unabashed, reverence. Not hidden, and not in halves. A softness he reserves only for you.
You’re speechless for a moment, but then he cups your face into his palms and it feels like everything just melts away.
Now Nami understands. Why you adore him so much. Why you don’t need to scream it out to the world that you love him (although you would love to). The two of you aren’t “together” officially not because you don’t want to, or are too shy to say it out loud. But because you enjoy every part of who he is. The chasing, the teasing, the thrill; it’s everything in him that makes you feel alive. You don’t need words for him to understand that you love him, just as he doesn’t.
Nami watches the way you look up at him, positively beaming. The silence is broken away when you start giggling to yourself, and it only makes Sanji move closer to you, his forehead bumping gently against yours as he sports an identical grin on his face.
She shakes her head, both astonished and happy to see you flourishing in his presence, before walking away with an affectionate eye-roll.
Yeah. You two are the lamest.
Mon trésor: My treasure
Aaah I couldn’t really decide which sanji to base this fic off of. I ended up doing a bit of both 🍽️
masterlist @ pls don't repost or feed my works into ai thaaank you
daydreaming abt podcaster!reader who (a little while after she n bkg get together) had her first argument with him, and she’s trying to record an episode but he won’t stop blowing up her phone!!! even threatens to come over until she talks to him ughhh
your first ever proper argument!!! i feel i’ve got sex podcaster reader and popular personal life podcaster reader too but for this i don’t think we need to be specific.
trying to record and usually you put your phone on do not disturb for the hour and a half you set aside. and with my phone, if someone calls me more than twice, my phone will start ringing outside of do not disturb because it thinks that person is having an emergency lol
so you’re mid talking about your weekend, a permanent frown on your face because you’re still pondering the argument you had this morning with your boyfriend before he left for work. till your phone starts vibrating on the table, interrupting your flow mid sentence.
katsuki’s name lights up the screen, including a picture of him you took of him laying his head in your lap looking up at you.
you press decline. you’re working!!
you continue your story, mid sentence again and his face lights up your screen. another decline.
you groan, looking up at the camera to check it’s still recording. you’ve got ten text messages from the man.
then it rings again and this time you pick up, glaring down the lens like it’s your boyfriend in the other side.
“oh shit! you picked up! i’m sorry, sorry for this mornin’—,”
“katsuki,” you sigh, “i’m recording and you keep calling me.”
“‘cause i know you’re sittin’ at home still mad at me. stop.”
you roll your eyes, trying to bite away a snigger. he’s probably in his office at this time, finished up a midday patrol.
“you’re annoying me,” you mumble, brushing off some dust from your desk, then looking at yourself in the viewfinder. “wasting my memory card space on this conversation.”
“look down the lens for me so i can watch this back.”
involuntarily you do. eyelashes flicking up, your camera blurring everything in the background.
he knows you look, so he continues.
“‘m sorry, baby. i was a fuckin’ idiot this mornin’.” you can hear him rub a palm over his face, “i was overwhelmed by everythin’ i have to do today and got stupid and snappy. not an excuse though. hate upsettin’ you.”
your body softens in real time. shoulders dropping, eyebrows back into their natural shape.
“you still there?”
“yes,” you mumble, “i want you to say more.”
“let me see you tonight. apologise properly.”
“fine. peonies are in season.”
bakugou laughs down the line, “i know that, baby. that was already on my mind. what were you talkin’ about? how shit your boyfriend is?”
you giggle lightly, pulling lint off your trousers, “that was going to be the next segment actually.”
“add that i’m going to treat you so good tonight, cook you dinner, get you gifts and apologise on my knees.”
“will you? i want you on your knees.”
“‘course…. then i’ll have you on my face—,”
“okay i’m hanging up now,” you grin, “need to go back to work, you too.”
synopsis: a story in which a depressed satoru gets sent to the future and sees just how bright it eventually becomes. meanwhile, you're reminded of how much of a brat your husband used to be when you first started dating.
cw: MDNI, time travel, smut w/ a touch of angst bc we LOVE plot, satoru's actually so mean at first lol, dad!jo (him and reader share a daughter together)
notes: hiiii we got 6.5k words for this one ❤️ comm for the lovely @sadlittlecucumber i hope u like!!!!
song rec: drag path — twenty one pilots
Satoru’s life ended up being a fucking bummer.
His best friend’s a mass murderer. Shoko’s gone off to do her own thing with medicine. Nanami left to go become a banker or whatever. Ijichi’s… Ijichi. Oh, and Haibara’s dead. Everyone who’s alive seems to have moved on— so should Satoru, honestly. But times proved that to be quite difficult.
He’s starting to understand where Suguru was coming from with the whole exorcise-absorb mantra. Except for him, it was exorcise and destroy, leaving every cursed site he’s stepped foot on looking like god himself decided to hit the reset button to obliterate the place.
Nobody says anything about it. He’s probably the closest thing to a god. Despite having tried his hardest all throughout his youth to fit in and act as if he was just like everyone else, people were still terrified to fuck with him.
And despite the chaos he’s constantly surrounded by— mainly from his own doing— the days still find a way to bleed into each other, morphing into a never ending cycle of boredom and violence. It’s quite the combo. The higher ups are lucky he’s too tired to plot anything behind their backs.
He’s exhausted.
The past is too blurry. The future’s too bleak.
Gojo was bound to fuck up sooner or later. The thought of him finally snapping like Suguru did, dangling in the back of his mind, taunting him.
He didn’t snap. It’s so much worse than that. At least in the eyes of the arrogant boy who got bested by, what he assumed to be a grade two curse because of how pudgy and stupid it looked. The thing that caught him lacking looked like a fucking blob fish that struggled with crippling anxiety, how the hell was he supposed to know that it could mess with timeof all things?
One moment he’s laughing at the way it looks, the next he’s in the complete dark.
That was the first time he’s smiled in months, by the way.
“Huh?” Satoru huffs out, trying to look around before eventually realizing that he has a blindfold on, and rips it off in annoyance. “Don’t tell me that thing knocked me out,” he begins to grumble to himself. It’d explain why he had a blindfold on… but then he realized he was in a completely different outfit, one that you didn’t put on someone who was currently in rest and recovery.
He highly doubts Shoko would even change him, anyway, at least not for this.
“Oh hey, you’re home.”
Home?
He looks around, and all he knows is this isn’t the dorm he’s continued to stay in after graduation, purely due to the fact that he was already out on missions for up to 18 hours each day. Not to mention that the penthouse he was currently standing in was too clean to be his. Too warm. Way too comfortable.
You already knew there was something deeply off in those first few seconds of looking into his eyes. This wasn’t your husband— this was the hot mess you met and still fell in love with all those years ago.
You tilt your head to the side, more curious than cautious, “Everything alright?”
“Yeah,” he snorts, literally the worst liar ever. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know,” you hum, holding eye contact long enough to leave him feeling a bit unsettled. “You tell me.”
First of all, who the fuck do you think you are speaking to him like that?
Second, who even are you?
Something big and shiny on your finger catches his attention, then he looks at his own hand that has an equally shiny band around his ring finger.
Fuck.
“Honey–”
Satoru physically cringes at the pet name, giving himself away once again.
“I’m not Satoru,” he blurts out, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “I mean, I am, but I’m not— FUCK– some fuckin’ curse blasted me into the future, and I need to go back.”
Well, that was quick. He’s always quick to fold under pressure when it comes to you— it’s something he’s unaware of though, as he fights back the urge to start pacing back and forth.
There’s a light smack from your mouth when you go to open it, only for the words to never even come, let alone die out. Nothing about this surprises you. This is not the craziest thing that’s happened since you’ve met Satoru.
Your lips thin into a smile as you take a deep breath, knowing you had no choice but to accept your new circumstances.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” He raises a brow at how you just… accepted it.
“Yeah… I believe it.” You respond flatly, then point at him, casually motioning your finger up and down. “Your attitude kinda sucked when we first met.”
He grimaces, taken aback by the statement. “No, it doesn’t–”
“You also liked to argue, too.”
“Okay— whatever,” he waves a dismissive hand, not at all interested in hearing what else you had to say. At this point, it just sounded like you wanted to shit on him, something he actually doesn’t have any fucking time for right now. “You’re a sorcerer… right?”
“No.”
“Christ.” Satoru sighs, turning on his heel. “You’re fuckin’ useless—“
You scoff, more humored than offended. “Where are you going?”
“To figure this shit out!” he snaps, throwing his arms out as he turns around to face you.
“Okay,” you shrug, still way too calm for Satoru’s liking, as it pisses him off even more. “If you don’t get it all figured out tonight, you can always come back. We have a guest room.”
“Yeah, thanks.” He huffs out a bitter laugh, as if that was the dumbest suggestion he’s ever heard. “I appreciate the offer.”
–
“Yaga” Satoru storms into the principal’s office, ignoring all his cursed stuffed animals, but noticing what he’s done with his hair. “What the fuck happened to you?”
The principal's brows pinch together, wishing he had locked the door to his office. Satoru fucked with him enough today by showing up to a meeting 20 minutes late with some sugary frap in his hand, and now he’s storming into his office, insulting him out of nowhere.
“Actually, nevemind.” Satoru waves a hand to stop him from even answering his question, reminding himself not to get sidetracked right now. “Look, I need your help. I got sent into the future by some curse, and I need to get back.”
Yaga inhales sharply. “What are you even talking about?”
“Exactly what I just said! I’m from 2009! Not whatever age I am now—”
“31.”
Satoru throws up a little in his mouth. “Send me back.”
Yaga lets out a long, disappointed sigh. It’s always something with Satoru. Always. Having to deal with the younger version of him was a painful reminder that he’s been dealing with his bullshit for well over a decade now. Nothing surprises him anymore.
“Let me see if some other windows would be willing to help look through the library. I’m sure you’ll be able to find information on what kind of curse you got hit with.”
“Thank you,” Satoru groans, still not very pleased by everyone’s reactions thus far, but grateful that he can at least get somewhere with Yaga… unlike a certain somebody.
Hours later, he finds himself at the school’s dusty, unkept library. It looks worse than it originally looked before he walked in. Books sprawled everywhere. Research papers were scattered all over the tables and floor. Assistants running around in every direction, more than half of them terrified at the total 180 in Satoru’s attitude.
“W-we can’t find anything,” Ijichi says, too old to be acting this scared in Satoru’s opinion.
He hums, elbows still resting on his knees, not bothering to sit up. “Hey, Ijichi?”
Ijichi gulped loudly, managing to annoy the world’s strongest sorcerer even more. “...Yes?”
“How are you even more incompetent now than you were before?”
“I tried my best! I swear!”
“Well, it’s not good enough— I’m still here!” he snaps at the nervous wreck of a man. Thank fucking god Ijichi listened to him and just became a window. He sucks at it too, but at least it’s easier for this dumbass to avoid death. “God— what the fuck am I supposed to do now?!”
“This is just one of the libraries, there’s more! And some in Kyoto too, that we’ll have the Kyoto branch check out.”
“Do whatever you need to do. I’m just letting you know right now that if I'm not back by tomorrow, you better watch the fuck out.”
The threat is followed by complete dead silence, aside from a certain someone's breath catching in horror.
“Me?!” Ijichi squeaks out.
The sorcerer doesn’t bother answering that and instead walks away, grumbling something insulting under his breath, just in complete and utter disbelief over how Ijichi truly hasn’t changed.
—
You figured your husband would eventually come back, so you set some food aside for him, and now you’re sitting at the dinner table, trying not to laugh at the pout on his face as he picks at his dinner with the chopsticks in his hand.
“Is the food good?”
“Sure.”
“I can warm that up for you, if you want?” you ask, barely trying to hide your amusement.
“No thanks,” he curtly responds before shoving another piece of karaage into his mouth. He’s known to have a sweet tooth, but chicken karaage’s probably his favorite food, savory wise. You almost want to tell him that he’s allowed to enjoy food even if his day hasn’t gone the way he had planned. “I’d appreciate it if you stopped staring.”
Your lips twitch, threatening to break out into a fit of laughter. “Right, sorry.”
“Mommy…? Is Daddy home yet?”
Oh great. As if the day couldn’t get any worse— now there’s a child.
“Yeah,” you respond in a tentative tone, shooting Satoru a look that screams ‘behave or else’, and even though you are currently a stranger to him, it intimidates him enough to behave for the time being.
A little girl, no older than 4 years old, walks into the kitchen and Satoru’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head upon seeing his daughter. It’s pretty obvious she’s his with her baby blue eyes and stark white hair. Her facial features are entirely yours, though. It’s strange to see.
“Hey… kiddo—” he awkwardly says, not really sure how to address the little girl. You clear your throat, mouthing ‘princess’ when he looks at you, because your daughter also happens to have her dad’s attitude. “I mean princess.”
It’s hilarious how unnatural it sounds right now when he was the one who started calling her that the moment you two took her home from the hospital.
“You pomis to wead bedtime stowie,” she starts to pout— same exact way he does.
“Did I?” He gives the girl a sympathetic look, albeit fake.
“Yeah,” she frowns as she walks up to you, giving him the world’s nastiest side eye. “Liar.”
Why is that the one word she’s able to enunciate correctly? She didn’t even stutter.
“Yeah— I was a little busy with work today,” he murmurs, as if she knew what that even meant. With the glare she was giving him, he doubted she’d even care if he broke down what work and the importance of it was. “Maybe mommy can read to you tonight?”
Sai wasn’t having that.
Satoru spent the end of his night reading her favorite book to her. Multiple times. He almost asked if it was some form of punishment for not upholding a promise he didn’t technically make himself, but decided against it in fear that she’d make him read it one more time. Sai fell asleep… eventually. Despite there being no way to prove it, he knows that the little girl forced herself to stay up out of pure spite.
But still, he finds himself smiling as he thinks about his nightmare of a future, not wiping it off quickly enough when you lightly knock on the guest bedroom door.
“Here’s some jammys for the night.” You smile back as you walk up and hand him a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt, both neatly folded up. “Figured you wouldn’t want to sleep in your work clothes.”
“Oh uh— thanks.” He clears his throat and forces out a laugh, pushing through the embarrassment of getting caught smiling to himself.
You’re giving him that look again. The one that’s mixed with amusement and a bit of fondness, where you look like you’re about to start making fun of him, but never do. Satoru would rather die than admit it makes him nervous.
“What?”
There’s a small pause as your smile grows. “Do you like your kid?”
“She’s weird.”
“Yeah, no— you wouldn’t believe who she got that from.”
“Fuck off.” A laugh easily slips through his lips this time, unable to stay serious at the thought of her inheriting even just a quarter of the traits he had as a child. Then it grows quiet again as he realizes she probably has the freedom to be a kid.
He wants to ask, but you beat him to it with a statement that answered the question he had in mind.
“Your duties as her father don’t end just because you managed to time travel by the way,” you say playfully, though he knows you’re being dead serious.
He can only guess what other horrors that little girl will subject him to for the rest of his time here. To put it simply, she’s not afraid of Dad.
For once, somebody doesn’t look at him as a god to fear.
—
It’s been over a month.
Ijichi and the rest of the windows are just as useless as they were when they first started trying to find answers. All that’s changed is that Nanami knows, and doesn’t seem to be too thrilled about the fact that he is now involved.
But still, the search for the fix to his predicament continues, turning every library and warehouse upside down. That’s all they could really do— aside from asking the elders for assistance of some sort.
Over his dead body.
Knowing they’d most likely do more harm than good, everyone’s agreed to keep this all a little secret from them.
So all that’s left to do, or rather forced to do, is to be patient. It’s hard. Satoru doesn’t do patient— he’s the type to snap his fingers and have a solution magically appear right before his eyes. You can only imagine how difficult it’s been for him to accept that he can’t immediately get what he wants right now.
Not to mention the fact that he had to continue working throughout all of this, but that wasn’t very surprising.
Now, what was surprising was learning that he has his weekends completely to himself. If anything, he assumed he’d just work more as time went on, but no. Turns out he threatened to kill the higher-ups if they didn’t let him have that when you two got married.
Satoru looks over your body once.
Twice.
He totally understands his future self.
He looks again for a third time, and you just so conveniently turn around, showing off your cute, frilly little apron covered in flour streaks.
It’s Sunday— you’ve been baking sweet treats all morning, and he wishes he had been a little nicer to you. Especially a couple of days ago when he snapped at you.
You had found him sitting alone on the balcony, head in his hands from yet another day of failure.
“Hey… any good news?”
“No,” he said impatiently. “If there was, I wouldn’t fucking be here right now.”
“Fair enough.” Your voice took a dip as you looked at the ground, allowing yourself to feel a little hurt for a moment before trying to lift the mood again. “Well… me and Sai stopped by your favorite bakery and got you the cookies you like if you wanted some—“
“No— no,” Satoru cut you off. “I don’t want your fucking cookies. I don’t want to do a family movie night where all we watch is Ms. Rachel. I don’t want to read some book about a mouse trying to become a fucking painter over and over again. I don’t want ANY of it. I want to fucking go home— what part about that do you not get?”
You tried to stand as straight as possible despite your shoulders growing heavier, pushing against the small frown threatening to carve itself across your face. You forgot how mean he used to be, at least during that first year of dating him. It only stings more because the man you married would never raise his voice like that, and you remind yourself that this isn’t him.
After a long pause, he looked up at you and immediately felt guilt wash over him.
“I didn’t mean that,” he tried to meet your eyes as he began to backtrack. “I’m sorry, I just— fuck. I didn’t mean any of that—”
“It’s fine.” You forced yourself to look at him again and smile. “I’ll uh… give you some space.”
The one thing about Satoru is that he doesn’t apologize. Like ever. So, one could only imagine how painfully awkward it was later that night when he knocked on your bedroom door to say he was sorry. It didn’t help that you were in a paper-thin silk slip, skin glistening from the lotion you rubbed all over it— he spent half his time trying not to stare at your tits. Had you been anyone else, it wouldn’t have felt as genuine.
But thank fuck he apologized, you probably would’ve spent all day ignoring him.
You raise a brow, and his cheeks start to pink. “What are you staring at?”
“Nothing, you just–” he awkwardly gestures at your entire body, “there’s flour all over you.”
It almost sounds like he’s offended by it. He kind of is. You keep your foot on his fucking neck— he doesn’t even know why he came out here.
“Oh, right— 'cause messes have always bothered you,” you lean over the island ever so slightly. The pink on his cheeks darkens as you do, unable to control his eyes from drifting down to your cleavage. And while he’s not exactly ashamed of looking— you are his wife after all— he can’t help but be a little flustered.
He’s always had a thing for milfs.
Especially when said milf is talking about messes— he knows a couple of places he could make a mess on right now.
“Nah,” he rests his elbows on the marble counter as a playful grin stretches across his face. “This is nothing compared to how I like it.”
You tilt your head, a small laugh escaping you as you rest your chin over your palm, curious to see where this conversation will get you.
“How do you like it?” you ask, as if you didn’t already know how filthy and depraved he could get when he’s alone in a room with you.
And you fucking miss that.
He opens his mouth to respond.
Then you hear your daughter whimpering about waking up alone. It’s nothing new, and you revert back to mom mode as you watch her turn the corner and waddle towards you.
Satoru, on the other hand, is not used to this. The slightly bruised laugh he lets out just barely masks his desire to fucking scream. What a fucking cockblock— no wonder you only have one kid.
His kid completely ignores his existence as she wraps herself around your leg, continuing to whimper despite no actual tears streaming down her cheeks. “I had a nightmawh.”
Meanwhile, there’s Satoru, who has yet to wake up from his very own nightmare. He internally sighs, then attempts to grab her attention because it doesn’t feel very good watching her give it all to you. “You wanna share a muffin with daddy?”
It’s starting to sound more natural.
“Y-yeah,” she sniffles.
Minutes later, she’s sitting on his lap, absolutely demolishing the blueberry muffin they ended up splitting— a complete 180. He couldn’t be mad, even if he tried.
His little girl was a dream.
—
Month two. Ijichi is still as useless as ever. He stopped complaining to you about him, though. You noticed he doesn’t talk about going back to his original timeline all that much anymore.
It’s not like Satoru’s given up hope, he’s just more present, as if he finally realized that wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to send him back any faster. He’s unknowingly more like his future self— laid back, not a care in the world.
He’s even sleeping in for once. It’s not that hard though when Sai’s gone for the day. She seemed to care more about getting the hell out of the house with her grandparents than greeting her father a good morning. You didn’t push her to, either— figuring Satoru needed the sleep. He always does.
It’s too bad that his phone started blowing up at around 10:00 am. Unfortunately for you, he left his phone in the living room, leaving you to get up and grab it since the master bedroom was the closest room to it. With how thick the walls are, you doubt he’d even hear it.
With a long sigh, you rise from bed, rubbing the sleep off your eyes as you snatch the stupid phone off the coffee table.
The snores coming from Satoru reach your ears before you even open the door. You have to hold back a laugh as you walk in and take a look at him. Face down, his long limbs sprawled over the bed, messy white hair sticking out in all directions.
You reach out and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, surprised infinity is off.
“Toru?” He stirs a bit, and you cautiously attempt to wake him up again. “Toru— someone’s been trying to call you for the past 10 minutes now.”
He lifts his head, eyes still sealed shut as he murmurs, “Who?”
“Uhh,” you look at the screen, unsure of who it might be. “Your contact name for them is nerd.”
You know it’s not Ijichi because his contact name is “courage 🐶” in his phone. Someone else must've annoyed Satoru for him to change yet another contact.
Satoru shoves his head back into the pillow and groans before taking the phone off your hands.
It’s Nanami. He, of all people, should know now is not the time to be blowing up his phone right now because he is fucking sleeping. It’s a Saturday for fucks sake.
Satoru sighs and accepts the call, grumbling into the phone. “What?”
Nanami cuts straight to the chase, as he would rather be doing anything else right now.
“How long are you planning on hiding your secret from the higher-ups?” he asks in a clipped tone.
Satoru rubs his eyes, too tired to return the same sense of urgency his friend seems to have at the moment. “Forever.”
“Don’t give me that.” A vein pops up on the side of the usually stoic man’s forehead. “They asked me about you this morning. They know something’s up. I can’t keep covering for you if it means my own safety’s on the line.”
“You really haven’t changed, have you?” It’s more of a statement than a question.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean—“
“You’ll be fine,” Satoru cuts him off. “They’re always up my ass anyway. I doubt they’re even suspicious. They just don’t know how to mind their own fuckin’ business. Seriously. You’re worrying over nothing right now.”
“I swear to god Gojo, if you—“
“Kay’ good night.”
Click.
Nanami’s probably fuming right now, but he’ll get over it. Satoru wanted to enjoy this. Lying in a comfy bed, surrounded by nothing but peace and quiet. He closes his eyes and stretches a bit, then rests his hands behind his head.
He would’ve forgotten that you were still sitting at the edge of the bed had you not lightly cleared your throat. One eye opens to look at you, then closes. The last thing he wants to do is share the reason why Nanami had been blowing up his phone all morning.
“Just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not here.” You cross your arms. “What was that all about?”
“Nothin’,” he easily says. “Just Nanami being Nanami— the guy’s a fuckin’ stickler for no reason.”
“That’s a little rude, no?” you chastise him.
“So is waking me up.”
“Sai wakes you up all the time, though.”
“Sai’s a ball of sunshine,” he says, quickly coming to her defense. “Not a grown man with depression— where is she by the way?”
“She’s spending the afternoon with my parents.”
Both eyes open this time, and stay open. “Why didn’t you go with them?”
“No way,” you wave a hand. “I need a break, too.”
“Yeah, no— I’m sure,” he agrees, feeling flustered all the sudden.
And Satoru being Satoru, he doesn’t do a very good job of hiding it, once again forgetting that you can read him better than anyone else can.
You smile, scooching closer, “You good there?”
“Yeah, m’fine,” he murmurs, trying not to shift around too much.
“I can take care of that, you know.”
“What?”
“That.” You look down at the boner he’s been trying to hide since finding out it’s just you two here.
“That’s not—“ His brain straight up short-circuits. “You don’t think that’s weird?”
“No.” You continue to inch forward, getting closer to him. “Do you think it’s weird?”
“No— never,” he shakes his head, answering a little too fast. “Fuck— won’t future me get mad?”
“Not at all. The most he’d probably do is make me show him what we did.”
“Make you show him?” he repeats after you in disbelief.
“Is that a problem?”
“No, that’s— that’s fuckin’ hot.”
Minutes later, you’re leaning forward with your hand wrapped around his base, and his breath catches as you start to slowly pump his cock.
“Feel good?”
His lids lower as he hums, “yeah— keep going.”
You lean forward, letting a string of spit fall from your lips to the tip of his cock, letting it mix with the precum that was already beading down from it. The wet sounds of you stroking him begin to grow, making the heat in between your legs start to pool.
“Can I sit on it?” You look up at him, batting your lashes as you innocently ask.
“Please,” he blurts out, just about ready to start begging you to.
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t just as eager as him after all the weeks spent pretending like you don’t notice the way he stares at you. Lustfully. The slip you’re wearing happens to be extra short today, so you forego stripping down and practically pounce on him. Your soaked panties grazing over his rock-hard length as you straddle him, letting yourself get comfortable while Satoru grows impatient.
His hands find themselves planted on your hips and pull you down. A low groan escapes him as he grinds you against him. “God— fuck me. Please.”
“Well, since you’re being so sweet—”
You reach down, hooking a finger into the fabric of your panties, pulling them to the side. He’s already lining himself up with your entrance, teasing your hole as he runs his tip through your folds, collecting all the slick. His lips part as he watches in awe at how damn wet you are.
His head tips back as you lower yourself, groaning and rambling to himself as if you weren’t there to hear it all.
"Fuck. You’re so hot.” His words come out strained as he watches you start to take him inch by inch, slowly working yourself open. “So fuckin’ tight, too.”
“Mmm— forgot how big you are.” Your voice is all soft and breathy from the fullness, nails slowly digging into his abs as you bottom out.
It takes a minute to adjust— it has been 3 months after all. But then you finally roll your hips, and Satoru almost starts singing praises at how good you are at that— lifting your hips all the way up and throwing them back, taking all of him.
"Fuck yeah– just like that," he breathes, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. "Feels so fucking good."
You murmur back a measly, “kay,” already dizzy from the stretch. You’re able to keep up the pace on your own for a bit, until you feel his grip on you tighten and the sounds of skin slapping against his start to grow as he starts to help you out.
You wouldn’t exactly call it help though, not when he ended up doing all the work— holding you steady while he practically bounces you on his cock, pulling more and more moans out of you as the head of his cock repeatedly kissed your sweet spot with almost no effort.
"You take it so good," he groans, pupils blown wide as he starts to feel himself lose control, snapping his hips up a little harder than the last. He wants more, he always wants more— so he pulls you forward and pulls your straps down far enough for your tits to spill out. "Perfect fuckin’ tits. Been thinking about these for weeks."
You let out a surprised gasp as he pops a nipple in his mouth with no warning. You fully believe him with the way he starts sucking and swirling and flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud, all while snapping his hips up harder.
He pulls back with a pop, looking up at you for approval. “Was that good?”
“Mhm.” There’s a fucked out expression on your face as you weakly nod. “Harder.”
“You want me to fuck you harder?”
“Yeah.”
Something in him snaps. Eager to please you, he flips you over and folds you underneath him— grabbing the back of your knees and pinning them to your chest so he can drive his cock into you deeper.
“Better?”
He drives his hips forward again, knocking the air out of your lungs. “God— yes.”
“I can’t— fuck— can’t believe you’re all mine, can’t believe I get to have you,” he starts to ramble as the sounds of him absolutely pounding into you fill the room. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect— all of you.”
He crashes his lips into yours— the kiss is messy, powered by hunger. Satoru’s always been overwhelming, but it’s been years since it’s been this emotionally intense. He fucks you like he needs you, like he’s been waiting for you all his life.
Your walls begin to squeeze and flutter around his cock, pulling another groan out of him. “You close?”
“Yeah,” you whine, feeling the pressure begin to coil. “Keep going.”
He’s close too, you can tell by how sloppy his thrusts have grown, no longer trying to control himself as he starts chasing after both of your releases. He shoves his face into the crook of your neck and fucks you faster, harder— balls slapping against your ass with each lewd wet squelch.
Your orgasm hits you hard after one particularly rough thrust. Scratching at his back as a cry tears through you, and it only goes straight to his dick, not even realizing just how overstimulated you are from the way he drills into you.
“Fuck.” It’s just one word that comes out of his mouth after realizing how hard he’s about to fucking cum. He bites into your shoulder as his balls start to tighten, squeezing his eyes shut as he braces himself.
When it happens, it’s a lot. He shoves himself deep inside of you, unaware of all the weight he puts on you as hot spurts of cum begin to flood your walls. Slowly grinding against you, letting your tight pussy milk the rest of him.
You’re wrecked by the end of it. You both are— lids tired and heavy, bodies sore and out of breath.
And in the end, you just let yourself fall asleep, unaware of the soft kiss pressed against your temple as he watched you.
—
It’s month three, and Satoru doesn’t want to go back.
What was the point? It’s not like he had anyone or anything to go back to. Jujutsu Society never crumbled from him getting shot into the future. Would it really be that bad if he just never went back and continued on with his life from here?
He hasn’t uttered a word about it out loud, but the way he completely stopped asking Yaga and Ijichi for updates was telling of where he was at mentally.
Acceptance.
He likes his life here.
You’ve come to your own conclusion after these last three months.
No wonder why he was so hot and cold when you were trying to get to know him. Satoru got a little taste of genuine comfort, only for it to be ripped away from him sometime before you two actually met. It explains all the times you wondered why he even tried with you, despite being too emotionally inept to even be in a relationship. He probably went through the beginning of your relationship thinking you could disappear at any second.
With that being said, he can’t stay here. As much as you’d love to continue being the source of comfort for this version of Satoru, he needs to experience the last year he spent alone before meeting you. He needs to feel cautious around you. He needs to try and fail at opening up a handful of times before getting comfortable with the idea of truly being vulnerable with a person. Getting over that element of fear he had towards getting close to others is what made him a husband and father— he couldn’t just skip that part of his life.
You have no idea how you’re going to tell him that, though. You’re not one to kick a sick puppy, especially one as cute as him. He’s so happy here with you and Sai that the thought of doing so makes your chest ache.
He’s having a tea party with Sai right now, limbs way too long to sit in the little stool she pulled up for him to sit in. He drinks imaginary tea from the plastic pink cup she hands him, and your chest aches some more. You force yourself to look away before the tears start.
You’d do the next 11 years all over again if you could.
“Hey, Honey?” Satoru calls out to you.
There’s a pause before you whip your head around— it’s been months since he’s called you that. There’s nothing but warmth and fondness in his eyes as his gaze meets yours. “Why is Nanami’s number saved under ‘nerd’ in my phone?”
He’s back.
“I don’t know,” you laugh, despite the tear falling down your cheek. “You tell me.”
—
Satoru didn’t want to believe it when everything around him went dark once again. It’s not until his feet touch the ground with a soft thud and he finds himself back in his messy, cold dorm when reality slapped him across the face.
Something between a sob and a gut-wrenching scream rips from his throat. Grabbing the round shades he had hoped he’d never have to fucking wear again, he rips them off his face and sends it crashing into the wall, breaking into a hundred little pieces. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t give himself a chance to even breathe or think before raising his hand and releasing a purple orb with just a flick of his fingers.
Impulsive. Reckless. Deadly.
Satoru was fucking devastated.
Nobody knew what triggered him that night. All they knew was that the east wing of the school looked like it had been hit by an asteroid by the time he calmed down. He didn’t speak to anyone for a good two weeks following the incident. Everyone wants to think he was lucky the explosion didn’t have any casualties, but then they remembered who he was: Satoru fucking Gojo.
God’s don’t get punished, nor do natural disasters— it’s hard to tell which one he was at this point.
One Year Later
“If it’s that small of a curse, why are you sending me there?” Satoru continues to argue with one of the new managers over the phone.
It wasn’t that small of a curse. It was a grade one. But still, given the sorcerer’s title as a special grade, he was overqualified for the job.
“I’m sorry, we just don’t have anyone available to take on the case at the moment.” The young woman continues to apologize over the phone. “I think we might have a grade 3 available for the job. I- I can check—”
“Save it.” Satoru cuts her off. He wasn’t that heartless to push the case off to some 15 year old. That’s exactly how Haibara died. “Send me the address.”
The mission was nothing short of an inconvenience for him. He liked a challenge when exorcising curses, and the damn thing didn’t even put up a fucking fight. He traveled 2 hours to get here just for that? Unbelievable.
He wasn’t ready to leave and sit on a train for another 2 hours just yet, so he decided to walk around the town for a bit.
It was a cute place, a little quiet. Kinda boring. That’s never a bad thing, though. Lots of mom and pop shops, a few coffee shops scattered around, one of which he decided to try. A little sugar’s always good, at least to him.
The smell of vanilla and roasted coffee beans hit him as he walked into the place. There was a decent amount of customers inside. Not too much to feel crowded, but enough to stay busy. He keeps his eyes on the menu the entire time. The line moves fast, and he figures out what he wants just in time.
“And what can I get started for you today?”
His eyes are still on the screen, reading the item off the menu.
“Can I get a white chocolate mocha frappuccino, with an extra pump of…” his words die out, and his eyes widen as he finally looks at the girl taking his order. “Hey.”
“Hi.” You laugh at the way this stranger loses his train of thought. “Extra pump of white chocolate syrup?”
“Yeah.” He exhales, unable to rip his eye off you as you write the words down on the plastic cup with a sharpie.
“Name for the order?”
“Go– Satoru,” he corrects himself. “It’s Satoru.”
He’s a little awkward, but you still find him quite charming and smile. “Alright, Satoru. Your order should be ready in about 10 minutes.”
“Awesome. Thanks,” he nods rather pathetically, then goes to sit in an empty corner of the shop with only one thought in mind:
He has 10 minutes to come up with what to say to get your number.
