note this is lowk very similar to the riding higuruma fic that i wrote… sorry about that i just enjoy this concept lolol also this is very short and rushed </3
it’s easy to get carried away when you’re on satoru’s lap. his head is buried in a textbook as usual, slender fingers scrawling formulae across scrap pieces of paper and sticky notes. he’s working on some sort of problem sheet; something to do with quantum mechanics, you can’t quite recall.
you, on the other hand, had plopped yourself on his lap a while ago, now. your chest presses against his hoodie, head resting against his shoulder, and you can just about feel the steady, rhythmic thump of his heartbeat through the thick cotton. you could never understand why he felt the need to do all of his work in his outside clothes rather than choosing to be comfortable. something about ‘needing to be in the right headspace to focus.’
sure, it was easy for him to stay focused with all of his exceptional intelligence. he hums when he encounters a particularly tricky question, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, though it still doesn’t seem to require all that much deliberation before he’s solving it effortlessly.
he had told you earlier in the day that you could come over to his dorm to study. but he should have know better, known that studying was never in your personal plans. when he realised you were never intending to do any work, he agreed to letting you sit on his lap (although, thinking about it, you did have to beg him to let you do so). the poor thing thought you were just going to watch him study, maybe even doze off on his shoulder for a little while. what he doesn’t know is that you’re slowly getting wetter by the minute.
his knee bounces rapidly—up, down, up, down, consistently—and the rough denim of his jeans brush up against your pussy. you’re bare underneath your tiny pyjama shorts, having opted for comfort over practicality in the secure presence of your boyfriend. then his leg shoots up, quicker than before, startling you a little. he’s firm against you and you’re already so worked up from just watching his brilliant mind unfold in front of you; so much so that you unintentionally let out a soft moan as his jeans connect with your heat once more.
he freezes.
“baby…?” he whispers. “i’m sorry, did i wake you?”
far from it. his voice, low in your ear, only turns you on more.
“all good,” you shake your head. “carry on with your work.”
so he does. unbeknownst to him, your shorts are getting completely soaked through with your arousal. it starts to pool where you’re sitting, and you’re not quite sure how he hasn’t noticed the wet patch growing on him.
“fuck…” he mutters under his breath, one hand raking through his platinum hair. “i swear that was supposed to be spin up, not down…”
you can smell his faint aftershave from the morning mingling with his own musky scent from a long day of lectures. bringing them up from where they were slung around his waist, you snake your arms around his neck, pulling yourself immeasurably close to him. you shift your hips so that his jeans press into your throbbing clit and you start to gently grind against him.
the coil of heat in your stomach tightens even further, the friction bliss between your legs as satoru’s thigh continues to bob up and down. he’s so absorbed in his work that he barely registers your haphazard rubbing against him. it’s not until another breathy whimper escapes your lips that he’s finally paying attention to you rather than that damn problem sheet.
“oh my god,” he squeaks out as he takes in your figure, a blush creeping up on his face. “needed me that bad?” he whispers.
you look up at him through fluttering eyelashes. “yes,” you breathe out. “wanted you to pay attention to me, toru.”
gojo really can’t focus on his problems, now. not with the way you’re sloppily grinding against him, moaning his name out so prettily. your fingers tighten around his nape and he groans at the feelings.
“can’t you wait until after i’m done?” he murmurs into your ear. his breath fans against your skin, making you shiver. “then i can devote all of my energy into making you feel good.”
you whine, rolling your hips into his thigh harder, faster. “need you now. let me use you, toru.” and when you tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling at the roots, his body completely gives into your touch.
a strangled sound escapes from the back of his throat. “o-okay,” he lets out a shaky breath. “keep going.”
you know satoru. you know that he’s getting off on the fact that you’re using him for your own pleasure, probably even more than you’re enjoying yourself.
his jeans are completely soaked through, now. your clit throbs and aches and the pressure is so good, especially when he flexes his thigh and uses his hands to guide your hips to rut against him.
“that’s it, baby.” his voice is low and hushed and it feels so intimate, the way he’s letting you take what you want from him. “you’re so pretty.”
“fuck, satoru—mmh—i’m already close,” you whimper into his neck.
“keep going,” he hums, readjusting himself on his chair to both give you a better angle and to try and relieve some of the tension against his dick straining in his pants. he pushes his glasses up with the hand that’s not steadying you on his lap, eyes raking over your coming apart on him.
the fire burning in the pit of your stomach flares up, flames of pleasure spreading throughout your entire body until you’re shaking, gushing onto his thigh. he holds you firm on his leg as your body collapses into his chest. both of you are panting.
“thanks, toru,” you smile up lazily at him. his face, down to his neck, is flushed crimson.
his voice is slightly wobbly as he speaks. “you’re so hot,” he grins, warm hands stroking your bare legs. “can we do that again sometime?”
YYYYYEEEEEESSSSSSS EXACTLY LIKE THAT my old main blog actually used to be nct based im glad u noticed the neo sneak in my user anon ily for that <333333
‧₊ ˚⊹ all the times husband!gojo uses his technique for you
note 4k, fluff ! took some small creative liberties with limitless ct in this, i hope you dont mind :3 also the chunking type layout of this is inspired by @heartkaji ( i recommend checking out her work, it's always super creative and fun ! )
satoru is offended, to say the least. the higher-ups keep nagging him about not using his technique outside of jujutsu society. something about keeping his stamina up, not exhausting himself when it wasn’t necessary.
“your cursed energy is for exorcising curses on missions, not for wasting away on that wife of yours.”
the words linger in his head for a while after he had been brought in to be scolded, the memory leaving a sour taste in his mouth. firstly, they should know better than to suggest that gojo was ever wasting any of his cursed energy, as if it wasn’t practically impossible for him to ever run out. secondly, how dare they insinuate that you’re not a good enough reason to use his technique? you are the most important person in his life. whatever time not spent on work, he makes sure to dedicate it and every fibre of his being into making you the happiest person in the world.
whatever, gojo thinks to himself, waving off their harsh words. his body and technique are his to do what he will with. he’s not a thing to be used; they can’t control him, anyway.
regardless, it’s not like he even uses it that often...
2:43PM : MISSIONS AREN’T THAAAT IMPORTANT
gojo always keeps his phone’s ringer turned on nowadays. he never used to; never even used to bring the phone with him in the first place. there was no need—no one would be contacting him during a mission unless it was really urgent. and in that case, they could just send someone over once he was done. but it’s different now that you’re in his life. he would drop anything and everything for you, and he does.
one afternoon, he’s on a mission. needs to exorcise some curse in osaka. he’s due to be away for a couple of days, ijichi even booked him an overnight hotel and everything. he had complained at first, not understanding why he needed to leave you alone for any longer than a day at most. but apparently gojo was desperately needed. so, reluctantly, he packed a bag and went about his business.
so, you’re still at home. much like him, you have things to be doing. one of them is picking up all the slack at the school since your husband is away. you’ve now been tasked with teaching both second and first years while he’s gone, so you’re very busy. as if grade promotions being around the corner weren’t enough to make you sick with stress, now you’ve got double the lessons to be prepping and delivering.
in your little office, you sit back on your desk chair and rub your temples. classes are finally done for the day, but it’s not like the work is over—far from it, actually. you have so much paperwork to do; your focus is on finishing the termly progress reports for your second years. sliding the drawer open, you fumble around for the four stacks of paper, and—
fuck.
where are they? your mind floods with anxiety; you must have misplaced them at some point. you’ve just been so tired recently, having to juggle missions, teaching, reports and paperwork while satoru has been away the entire time, so you don't even have his strong arms to hold you and comfort you at night. with all of the extra load, your mind has been completely scattered.
you pace up and down your office, racking your brain for any hint of where you may have put them. your heart pounds heavily, thrumming in your ears. yaga wants these reports by tonight. it’s not like you procrastinated on them, either! you actually had them mostly done, and all you needed to do was proofread them and sign off. what can you even do at this point? tell him that you’ve lost them and that you’ll get it to him by the end of the week? no. these reports are crucial for potential promotions and you’ll be damned if your students don’t get their deserved progression after all of their hard work this year.
feeling yourself beginning to spiral, you reach for your phone in your pocket. your fingers automatically find satoru’s contact, barely even giving it a second thought. you don't even really know what you want him to do at this point, but you just need to hear his voice. your fingers hover over his name. you know he’s busy, know he’s probably currently out in the field right now doing important work, but your chest feels tight and something inside you presses call, anyway.
ring, ring, ri—
“hello?” his voice over the crackling call already soothes you.
“satoru—” your voice cracks.
and the space around you shifts, getting heavier as a weight pushes into you before you can even register what’s happening.
“i'm here, baby,” he sounds closer, smoother. “what's up?”
what… the hell? you think you must be dreaming. all of the stress must have finally caught up with you, and you’ve passed out and are currently imagining your husband here with you.
no. no, you’re wrong. he’s here and he’s real and— what is he doing here?
“satoru!” you whisper-shout. “you’re supposed to be in osaka right now. fuck, if anyone sees you, you’ll be in so much trouble.”
he shrugs. “relaaaax, sweetheart. they can’t touch me. literally.”
you scoff lightly at his unshakeable arrogance.
“plus,” he adds, stepping closer to you. one hand comes out to cup your cheek as he analyses your face, taking note of the creases between your brows. “whatever i was doing couldn't have been half as important as tending to my ever-so-sweet wife.”
your temper softens at his unwavering kindness. you had momentarily forgotten about the lost papers, too focused on your husband showing up out of thin air. shoulders sagging down again, you tell him about the reports and how important they are, though he already knows that fact.
satoru listens intently, nodding. his thumb brushes lightly against your cheek and you lean into the warmth of his touch, a welcome feeling after only a couple of days without him. he doesn’t make fun of you, doesn’t play up his usual gojo antics and tease you for being worried. no, right now the love of his life needed his reassurance, and he was here to give it to them.
“okay,” his voice is low, eyes searching yours. “so we’ll find them.”
your heart melts at how he always treats you with such gentleness, even if you had just made an insane screw-up. the two of you scour your entire office, searching every nook and cranny for where you could have potentially misplaced the files. and thank fuck satoru manages to find them tucked away in the corner of the small cupboard where you usually keep your outside jacket. you don't know how they got there, but you can't bring yourself to care. all of the worry from your body immediately releases, the tension in your posture loosening as you sigh in relief.
your husband pulls you in for a hug and kisses your forehead. “told you we’d find them.”
“thank you, satoru. i love you,” you hum, enjoying the heat radiating off his body. you pull apart from him, looking up into his eyes. his blindfold is tugged down his neck, you now realise, which must mean he was in the middle of using his six eyes with full effort. “you should really get back to what you were doing.” you tap his chest lightly. “see you in a few days?”
he pouts, eyebrows knotted together. “can’t i just stay? i’m already here, now. it’s a pain to go back.”
“even if you won’t get in trouble, i won’t be able to hear the end of it from the higher-ups if you stay.”
“do i really have to?” he whines, tilting his head back in frustration.
“i don’t want you to go either, but you have to. come on.” who were you if not the voice of reason in satoru’s dynamic life?
“fine, fine.” he throws his hands up. “but only because i don’t want you to get it in the neck.” he captures your lips in a welcoming kiss.
you hug him one last time before he disappears. “what were you even doing when i called? you got here fast.”
“i told you,” he smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “nothing important.”
well, nothing that was important for you to know. unbeknownst to you, gojo was quite literally in the middle of an exorcism. some grade one curse that apparently no one else had the strength to handle. satoru knew they were just short-staffed. so there he was, mid-action, crushing some spirit one-handed, when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
“hold on,” satoru put a finger up to the curse as if it knew what that meant. “gotta take this.”
the mission could wait. the curse wasn't going anywhere; it lacked any sort of real intelligence to be able to flee when it was already half dead. so, of course he teleported to you as soon as he heard the crack in your voice. sure, he probably should have let it ring out to voicemail and listened to it five minutes later, when he would have inevitably finished the curse off. however, you are always his top priority. you come first in his life.
9:15AM : A SOFA IS LIGHTWORK, SWEETHEART
spring cleaning on an early saturday morning. what else could be better? you have your earphones in, humming along to music as you mop the wooden floors of your shared apartment. satoru is currently in the kitchen cooking breakfast—you can smell the mouthwatering aroma of his famous pancakes that you look forward to every weekend.
everything is perfect, going smoothly. that is, until a fat fly buzzes around your head, darting around with speed. you try to swat it away, one hand still on the mop. your arms are flailing in the air when your bicep brushes against your ear and an earphone falls out, clattering to the ground as your music comes to a staggering halt. everything happens too fast. one moment you’re standing, stepping back into what must have been a wet spot on the floor; the next, the room is tilting and spinning around you and you fall flat on your ass with a loud thud!
“shit!” you shout, probably a little too loudly.
within seconds, satoru is next to you, helping you up to your feet. “what happened, baby?” he coos. “you okay?”
wincing, you feel around the back of your shorts and touch a damp patch where you landed. “yeah, fine. just slipped. lost my stupid earphone under the sofa, though,” you groan. “now i’ll have to put my whole arm all the way underneath and i don't think i can survive that.”
“nah,” satoru’s voice lilts. “i got you.”
inch by inch, the couch begins to slowly lift off the ground, levitating steadily as a shit-eating grin makes its way across satoru’s face. you fold your arms, waiting for him to retrieve your earbud. he doesn’t move an inch.
“well, aren’t you gonna get it, then?” you can hear the smugness in his voice.
“fuck you,” you roll your eyes. you pick the small device up off the ground. it’s a little dusty, but nothing too bad. internally, you thank your husband for his service.
12:27PM : MANIPULATIVE COFFEE SPILLS
it’s a weekday. you both have a free hour, so you decide to spend the time having coffee together at a small cafe on the outskirts of tokyo, relatively near the school. satoru orders a latte for you and some kind of fruity iced drink for himself, despite you insisting that he needs to ease up on the sugar because he’s bound to get diabetes when he’s an old man. it’s better for him than coffee, though. the one time he had a shot of espresso, instead of increasing his focus like intended, he ended up bouncing off the walls with boundless energy.
grinning, he walks over to you with a tray of two cups and a plate. he sits down opposite you, sliding your mug over to your side of the table. you share a vanilla pastry. it’s yummy: flaky, creamy, and sweet. satoru had protested to sharing at first (he wanted his own dessert), but you told him that if he was getting a sugary drink, then he should be open to compromising on the sweet treat.
as you’re chatting idly with him, he makes you laugh over something trivial. then you accidentally knock your mug over. it all happens in slow motion. the wobble of the cup, it tilting over the edge of the table, the hot liquid beginning to pour straight into your lap.
then it stops in midair. you’re going crazy, you must be. confused, you look up at satoru, and he’s just cheesing at you. it all clicks into place. of course, gojo would use his gravity manipulation to stop your coffee from spilling. maybe a little excessive for the situation, but you were grateful nonetheless. with a swish of his finger, he gently lifts the liquid back into the cup, placing it on the table, and it all goes back into place. apart from one drop that plops straight onto your skirt.
“satoru!” you hiss.
your husband feigns innocence. “what?”
“don’t act like you don’t know what you just did.” you point an accusatory finger at him.
“uh… spare your outfit from boiling hot coffee?”
“you got a drop on me!”
“one single drop…” he mutters under his breath. “i just saved your life and you’re complaining about one single drop.” he drops his gaze from yours, doing his best impression of a kicked puppy.
“don’t try to manipulate me with those eyes. i know what you’re doing.”
“what eyes?” he bursts out. “i’m not doing anything!”
“oh, come on,” you laugh airily. although he’s mildly annoying, sometimes, you can’t deny how endeared you are by him. maybe those puppy dog eyes did work on you. he was cute. “you know very well you left one drop untouched on purpose. you’re telling me the gojo satoru accidentally missed a drop?”
he tries to hold back a laugh, though it chips away at his faux sadness. “fine, fine…” he allows himself to chuckle properly, now. “you got me. you know me so well, baby.”
you can’t help but laugh along with him.
6:53PM : SWEATY PITS ON THE TRAIN !
it was his idea to take the train back to tokyo. not yours. if you had it your way, you would both have teleported back home the moment you finished your mission and would be cuddling together in your own bed. but nooooooo. satoru just had to “make a day out of it.” he insisted that taking the train back would be a fun way to “experience the regular life,” like you had normal office jobs and weren't overworked jujutsu sorcerers.
but the two of you hadn't taken a train anywhere in what felt like forever, always relying on his speed or teleportation to get to places, so getting on the train back to tokyo was… more than crowded. you had forgotten just how busy rush hour was, all packed into a cramped train like cheap sardines. you led the way onto the carriage, satoru’s hand resting on the small of your back as you shimmied into a crevice where you could stand next to him. he held onto the overhead railing whilst you mainly leaned against his tall frame. honestly, it was such a tight squeeze that you basically didn't even have to hold on to anything; the tension from all the bodies around you was enough to hold you in place.
then the worst happens. some guy shuffles in, squeeeeezing his way through the crowd. and he’s reaching up, up, until you’re face to face with his sweaty armpit. you crane your head to the side, trying your best not to audibly gag.
a low hum fills the air. suddenly, the filthy odour is… gone? there’s also a sizeable gap between your face and the man’s unfortunately placed underarm. a weight falls onto your waist—satoru’s hand. you don't have the space to be able to turn around and look up at him, but if you did, you know he’d be making the most over-the-top, exaggerated gagging face, shaking his head at the lack of tact from the other man.
you smile to yourself. he extended his infinity just to shield you from a sweaty armpit. so romantic.
11:00PM : MOVIE NIGHT BLUES
cuddled up into the corner of the couch after a long day at work, you and your husband sink into the plush pillows beneath your bodies. your back is resting against satoru’s, one of his arms circles your shoulders, the other draped loosely over your waist, atop a fluffy blanket that’s tucked tightly under your chin. you’ve put on a film the two of you have been dying to watch for weeks, but haven’t had the time to see.
“shit…” you mumble to yourself, remembering that you were supposed to be the one to bring all of the snacks. but now, you were all cosy and settled, and the last thing you wanted to do was move from your position. you’d never be able to get back to this exact spot afterwards.
“what’s up, baby?” satoru pecks you on your temple.
you sigh. “nothing, just wish i grabbed those snacks before getting comfy. i don’t wanna get up, now.
slam! a bang comes from the kitchen. within seconds, packets of crisps, popcorn, and bars of chocolate are darting towards you. they stop dead in their tracks before they fully reach your face, stopping just centimetres before, then they fall onto the couch next to your entwined bodies.
“blue?” you question, twisting your neck around to look at him behind you.
satoru nods, evidently proud of himself. with a flick of his wrist, he closes all of the opened cupboard doors in the kitchen. “even cleaned up after myself. you’re welcome.”
humming happily, you sort through what you want to eat first, settling on a packet of salty popcorn as you hand satoru a sweet pack to tear open.
“you’re the best,” you say, mouth already stuffed full of kernels.
satoru is just happy to help, happy that he can make his wife's life even the tiniest bit easier.
5:12PM : DRAMATIC GUSTS OF WIND
“how do i look?” you twirl out of the bathroom dramatically, smoothing your dress out. tonight is date night. satoru was already ready to go, but you needed a couple more minutes to finish touching up your hair and outfit. so, you made him sit on the bed and wait for you to make an entrance into the bedroom. he still hadn't seen your outfit until you spun out of the door.
from the edge of the bed, satoru’s gaze lifts from his phone, raking over your figure. crinkles form in the corners of his eyes, his lips twitching up. an easy smile stretches across his mouth as he clicks his fingers.
out of nowhere, something that you assume is a breeze begins to flutter over your skin, your hair billowing out around you as the fabric of your dress floats up, flowing behind you as you skip over to plant a kiss on your boyfriend’s forehead. his control over his cursed energy is always so precise that he can use red with such accuracy that it only blows languid gusts of wind.
catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but laugh. you look like you’ve just stepped out of a cheesy action movie trailer. “bit much, don’t you think?”
satoru sits up straight, clapping with utmost sincerity. “ten out of ten,” he nods. “no notes.”
10:56AM : HE FLIRTS LIKE A MENACE
you've finished up your morning classes with the second years, knocking on the door of your husband’s classroom to see if he was also done. the door swings open before you can knock for a third time, and you’re met with satoru beaming down at you.
“come in, come in.” he ushers you inside.
you sweep your eyes over the room and see the first years at their desks—postures slouched, eyes wandering anywhere but the front of the classroom, clearly uninterested in what their teacher had to say. they perk up at the sight of you as you greet them happily.
“sorry, did i disturb your lesson?” you take pity on the kids.
“no!” nobara cuts in quickly. she then shakes her head vigorously, as if backtracking. “no, sorry— i mean— gojo-sensei was almost done, right?”
satoru scratches the back of his neck, chuckling nervously. “uh, i guess so… i still had another thing planned for you guys…” he trails off. “but! i guess we can save that for this afternoon!” he claps, telling them all to be back after lunch. you giggle to yourself at his optimism.
the three of them pack their things up hastily and scurry out.
“thanks for getting us out early, sensei." megumi nods at you, nobara smiling by his side.
yuji trails behind them slightly, jogging to catch up with his friends after being the slowest to gather his things. “you’re the best!” he grins in your direction, shutting the door behind him.
turning around to face satoru, you see he’s already leaning back against his desk, a lazy smile painted across his soft features. “i can't wait to teach them next year,” you ponder aloud. “they have a lot of potential.”
you walk towards satoru, who snickers. “all thanks to their great teacher, gojo satoru.”
“ah, right,” you mock. “whatever you say, babe.” in an attempt to kiss him, you tiptoe up to reach his lips. but, just as you get close to his face—
buzz.
it feels like your body is slowing down faster than you can process or control. so much so that you can't even attempt to touch your husband. this man has just activated his infinity to, what, tease you?
“satoruuuuu—” you whine.
he shakes his head firmly. “nope,” he says, popping the p. “say please.”
“you’re not serious.” your jaw falls agape. how could he be denying you a kiss?
“deadly so, sweetheart,” he smirks.
pouting, you cross your arms over your chest. “i am not saying please just to give you a kiss, satoru.” and you’re not! you’re not going to let him win this time.
“fine by me,” he shrugs, utterly nonchalant. “no kiss then.”
“what?” you scoff. he’s unbelievable. you know he relishes in being able to rile you up. “no, that’s not fair.”
“it so is,” he smirks casually. “you want to kiss me? then say please.”
“fine, whatever…" you grumble, muttering under your breath. "please…”
“sorry?” satoru cups a hand around his ear, leaning forward closer to you. “couldn’t hear you.”
“you’re so annoying.” you roll your eyes, but you can feel his charms working on you as each second elapses. “fine. please,” you say, louder this time so he has no choice but to hear your words.
“hmm…” he taps a finger against his chin. “please what?”
“oh my god, you’re kidding.” he’s kidding, right?
“nuh-uh, i don’t play like that.”
you huff, but at the end of the day, you do want to kiss his pretty lips. so, you give in to his antics. “please, can i kiss you, satoru?”
“as you wish.”
another buzz as he releases his technique, then he dips down and presses his lips to yours. they’re warm and soft and you practically melt into his touch, sliding your hands over his chest. he pulls you closer by the waist and you hum in satisfaction against his mouth.
when you pull away, you’re smiling at each other like two teenagers in love.
“see?” he raises his eyebrows. “that wasn’t so hard.”
“you’re insufferable.” you lightly slap his shoulder and he clutches it far too dramatically. the two of you laugh together before he presses a flurry of chaste kisses against your face—first your forehead, then your cheeks, then back to your lips.
“you love me.”
and you can’t deny it, really. you truly do.
okay, so maybe he does sometimes use his technique for non-jujutsu related tasks. and maybe it was more often than he’d like to admit to anyone else. but they didn't need to know the details. satoru was more than content to use his limitless for you whenever you needed it.
however many times the higher-ups scold him, he will gladly take the consequences if it means he can make you happy.
‧₊ ˚⊹ your coworker, higuruma, feels much better than your boyfriend 18+
cw cheating, pinv, creampie, dont be reader guys...
note written for this request ! i hope this is alright, i'm a little unsure about how this turned out i feel like it moves very fast but enjoooyy
work husband. that’s what you used to refer to hiromi with, once, albeit teasingly. you didn't expect it to lead to actually fucking him after hours. sure, you had a boyfriend waiting for you, and maybe once upon a time you had loved each other, but the present was a different matter.
you and mr higuruma had always been the flirty type. it had started one-sided, with you always bending over a little too far in front of him, always brushing your hand against his shoulder when you asked him to bring you your printed files. he had never reciprocated—he knew of your partner, had heard that you were taken from one of your colleagues. but, over time, you wore away at him. how could he resist? you were all short skirts that were definitely not work-appropriate, sweet perfume and sticky gloss on your lips.
he started to flirt back: a little touch here and there, friendly office banter that probably bordered on inappropriate, leaning in slightly too close when speaking to you at your desk. a quiet voice in the back of his mind kept telling him that he shouldn’t be returning your affections. he really tried to hold himself back, but it was nearly impossible to do so. what, with the way you batted your eyelashes when looking up at him, sliding your fingers underneath his tie when it was just the two of you in the cramped kitchen.
he kept telling himself that it was just two colleagues being amicable towards one another, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to delude himself into believing that what the two of you were doing wasn’t wrong—you had a whole boyfriend at home, for fuck’s sake. although… you never really spoke about him, only when someone asked first. and, even then, you never divulged any specific details about your love life. anyone else would just think you were a private person. but hiromi knew better than that.
honestly, you didn't need to say anything out loud for him to know. he could just tell that you weren't being satisfied at home. with how you were practically all over him whenever you were alone with him, you weren’t exactly subtle about it. you were sexually frustrated, and you needed someone to do something about it. or, more specifically, you needed him to do something about it.
then, one evening, you were at a work-do; a retirement party for some coworker you didn't even know existed.
“thought you had a boyfriend?” higuruma had asked as you leaned in closer to him.
the two of you were tucked away in a corner of the main floor area in the office, the bustling noise around you nothing but a low drone in the background. all you could focus on was the way his cologne smelled, the way his suit jacket crinkled as he rested one shoulder against the wall. you were nursing a glass of some kind of red wine, the liquid making your head buzz with the faint hum of slightly regrettable decisions.
“oh, that guy,” you mused, taking another sip of your drink. “pretty shit boyfriend if you ask me.”
“how comes?”
you laughed airily. “you know the type… doesn't really get me nowadays.” your skin felt warm, tingly, and you couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or him that was making you slightly jittery.
hiromi bent down, covering the side of your face with his own. he whispered, his breath lightly fanning your ear. “he doesn’t fuck you good?”
your breath hitched in your throat. all this time, flirting with him, teasing him, hoping to rile him up and get a rise out of him, it had all culminated into this. you had enjoyed it when he had flirted back with you, loved it when his composed demeanour cracked and you could see the restraint it took him to hold himself back from potentially receiving a very angry hr email. but you never expected him to be so… forward.
you shook your head. “why else do you think i had to find myself a work husband?
after that, it didn't take long for you to scramble into his office, which was (very conveniently) in a separate room from the others—the perks of being a senior lawyer in the firm. he pushed you towards his desk, locking the door shut behind him. as you perched on the edge of the smooth wood, he tilted your chin up between two fingers and crashed his lips against yours. all the pent-up energy between the two of you was distilled into this one moment. you gasped against his mouth as he slid his tongue over yours, tasting faintly of some fancy liquor that he had earlier. his hands toyed with the hem of your blouse, skimming your bare waist underneath. you wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer to you as he grunted into your mouth.
hiromi slipped one hand underneath your skirt. he ran his fingers along the hem of the thin cotton of your tights as you lifted yourself to give him room to slide them off you, along with your soaked underwear.
“fuck…” he whispered as he ran the pads of his middle and ring fingers through your sticky folds, which made you shudder. “you’re so wet, bet he doesn’t get you like this.”
you shook your head a little too eagerly. “only you, hiro.” you slid your hands down his chest, down to cup around his bulge through his trousers. fiddling with his zipper, you managed to pull it down, shoving his boxers below his waist as the pantsuit fell open.
his cock was red hard and leaking already; he hissed as it touched the cool air.
“want you in me,” you pulled him closer by the collar of his white button-down, his mouth latching back onto yours as he licked into your mouth. humming low in satisfaction, he lined up the tip of his cock with your entrance, but not before running it through your arousal, collecting your wetness as a natural lubricant. you shuddered at the feeling of his skin rubbing against your throbbing clit.
both of you moaned as he pushed into you slowly, stilling when he bottomed out.
“oh, fuck…” he groaned as your gummy walls clenched around his length. “you’re even warmer than i imagined.”
you laughed airily. “you’ve imagined us fucking?”
“been dreaming of it ever since you first walked into the office,” he chuckled as he began to move. your fingers instinctively gripped his broad shoulders tightly, legs locking around his hips as the burning stretch ebbed away into pleasure.
“shit, you feel so—ngh—good,” you whine, head falling into the crook of his neck. “why didn’t you—fuuuuck oh my god—ever do this sooner?”
“didn't want to be a—hah—homewrecker,” hiromi started to pick up the pace, his cock hitting all the right spots deep within you. the room was sweltering with hot, sticky sex; blinds drawn, lights dim. the only audible sounds other than your hazy conversation were heavy huffs and stretched-out moans.
“don’t get all noble on me— fuck, right there— you make me feel infinitely better than he does.”
“how hyperbolic,” he exhaled shakily through a breathy moan. “i shouldn’t—shit—be doing this.”
you leaned back onto the desk with your palms pressed flat against the hardwood, his faux integrity forcing you to stabilise yourself. however, the newfound position allowed him to pump even harder, deeper into you. your eyes squeezed shut tightly as tingles began to crawl up your thighs and between your legs.
“i don't fucking care, hiromi— just, mmh, make me cum already!”
he nodded, his thrusts becoming more fervent as he rutted his hips into you faster. a thin sheen of sweat covered both of your bodies, your skin prickling with the beginning of an orgasm. the two of you were practically panting, now, one hand of his gripping your hip and the other coming down to circle your clit with his thumb.
“fuck! hiromi, ohhh my god, right there—”
“you gonna cum for me?” his thrusts became more erratic as he, too, neared his high.
“yes, fuck yes, please cum inside please please please,” you babbled on the brink of release.
his head tilted back in ecstasy. “gonna fill you up so good,” he groaned. “show your man who this pussy really gets wet for.”
his lewd words were the tipping point for you. your orgasm crashed over you in waves of unfiltered pleasure, your thighs squeezing around his torso, his name a cracked whimper on your lips. he spilt into you only seconds later, hot cum shooting into you.
you were both left in a stunned silence. hiromi pulled out of you with a squelch, his cum dripping out of your swollen cunt.
“pretty…” he mused, using two fingers to push his load back inside of you.
“let’s do this again sometime,” you giggled.
“again…?”
“what—” you raised an eyebrow “—you don't want to?”
“no! no, that’s not what i meant,” he backtracked. “we get to do this again?”
“obviously,” you smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “best sex i’ve ever had. you’re the only good thing about coming into work.”
‧₊ ˚⊹ fucking best friend’s dad!toji… hopefully megumi doesn't find out 18+
cw 2.9k, pinv, creampie, age gap but you and megumi are both adults, disclaimer again this is just all kinds of wrong so if you don't like it don't read it ! <3
note read part one here ! there won’t be a part three from me !
the guilt from what you had just done with toji gnaws away at you bit by bit as you sit at the table for breakfast. your latte has long gone cold as you pick at the vanilla pastry your best friend had grabbed for you. the weight of your actions bears down on you constantly every time you look at either father or son.
after toji had eaten you out on megumi’s bed, he had cleaned you up with a fresh towel. you then quickly stripped the sheets off where a wet patch pooled at the base, replacing them with a clean mattress liner before megumi got home. when he did get back, arms full of paper bags and coffee cups, he didn't notice anything was up. and if he had noticed a change in your demeanour, you weren't one to know—you were far more focused on how you were going to deal with the fallout of your actions. maybe you looked slightly dazed, maybe your hair was slightly messier than it usually is in the morning, but he attributed it to the sex the two of your had the night before.
the shame of what you did with his father churned within, twisting into a painful coil in your gut. you could barely maintain eye contact with either of them. but there was no way in hell you were going to tell your friend that his dad went down on you. plus, you knew (or, rather, hoped) that toji wouldn't be one to run his mouth, either. he's a grown man. why would he tell his son about his sex life? he just wouldn't, right? luckily for you, he didn't.
regardless, that wasn't your undoing. no, your downfall was thrust upon you by none other than your own carnal appetite, your own depraved hunger and thirst for more, despite everything you had already been given. you only had one more night at the house before you were to be going back home to see your parents. but every time toji walked into the same room, you could feel his gaze on your body like a thousand pairs of eyes dissecting your every move. you would be truly lying to yourself if you said that you didn't still want him. badly, at that.
originally, you thought him making you cum on his tongue would halt your lustful thoughts of him. but noooo. if anything, it just made you more eager to actually fuck him. only one more night left, you kept repeating to yourself. it shouldn’t be that hard to not give into your desires, right?
the day passes agonisingly slowly, but somehow you manage to make it to the evening without crumbling from the mountain of stress that came with having to hide your secret from your best friend. all you have to do now is get through the night, which should be easy enough. just fall asleep next to megumi like you normally would—no funny business.
whilst you pack your things, ready to leave in the morning, megumi goes to have a shower. it’s the first time the whole day that you have time to yourself, completely isolated with your thoughts alone. they chide and abrase you for your sinful actions, eroding your collected disposition until you’ve quite literally got your head in your hands.
‘dirty slut. can't keep it in your pants. what would megumi think?’
you rake your fingers through your hair. what can you even do from here on out? do you live with the incessant guilt for the rest of your life and hope it fizzles out? or do you tell megumi the truth and risk an entire life’s worth of friendship over a hazy mistake?
you’re wracking your brain for ideas when there’s a knock at the door. startled, you jump to your feet. it’s probably megumi, but something is off. first of all, he never takes anywhere less than forty minutes in the shower, though you don't exactly know what he does in there for that long. secondly, why would he knock? you're in his room and, even if he did think you were getting changed, its not like the two of you haven’t seen one another naked before. while you're lost in a daze, heart thumping rapidly, the door creaks ajar. you see that it’s not megumi at all. of course it’s not.
it’s toji.
in all his six foot something glory, grey joggers slung low on his hips. he comes in, clicking the door shut behind him. he doesn't step towards you, just stays at the entrance, hanging there in the quiet of the room.
he starts to speak, but you cut him off. “we need to talk,” you bumble out. “about this morning.”
“took the words right out my mouth, pretty girl.”
your pulse quickens, heart skipping a beat or two at the nickname. since when did he start calling you that and not ‘megumi’s friend’?
“it was a mistake,” you continue to ramble. “i was just frustrated and desperate to cum and it will never happen again. i couldn’t do that to megumi.” you trail off slightly towards the end.
“right,” he drawls, taking a step closer to you. in return, you take one backwards. “why are your thighs squeezing together?” he points at your legs.
curse toji and his somehow superhuman abilities to always recognise when your body reacts to him. “what? no, they’re not, i’m—”
“you gonna pretend you’re completely satisfied? that you're not thinking about fucking me?”
“well, not really, i—”
“liar,” his voice cuts through like a knife. he inches closer towards you, backing you up until you’re resting against the corner of megumi’s desk below the window. to balance yourself, your fingers curl tight around the edge of the wood.
“think i haven’t seen you eye-fucking me in the kitchen?” he rasps. “don't lie to me, kid.”
your face burns with humiliation at both the nickname and the fact that you’re so easily readable. “okay, fine. whatever. i want to fuck you. happy?” you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. “but that doesn't mean i should. we’re adults, we should be able to control ourselves.”
“control? your definition of control is ogling my arms and staring at my dick when you think i'm not looking?” he smirks and parts your legs with two strong hands. he stands between you and presses his growing bulge against your inner thigh. swallowing thickly, you try your utmost best to maintain composure, but it’s so hard when all you can think about is him tearing your already soaked underwear off and fucking you nice.
“look at you…” toji tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and squeezes your face between his fingers and the palm of his hand.
your body involuntarily arches up in search of his warm chest. you can't deny it anymore—you want him bad. with every shaky breath you take, your chest rises and falls, drawing toji’s attention to the curve of your soft breasts in the tight tank you’re wearing.
“such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” he whispers. “you can’t even hide it. tell me you want me.”
nodding apprehensively, you reply. “i want you, toji.”
he grins and kisses you. it’s hasty and your tongues slide against one another, teeth colliding as he nips at your lower lip. you groan into his mouth. he tastes like cheap coffee and vaguely of minty gum. your hands rest on his firm torso and slide around his neck, whilst his flatten against the velvety underside of your bare thighs. he hikes you up further onto the desk so you’re fully sitting on it, now.
leaning into his touch, you slide your hands down his muscled abdomen and your fingers find the elasticated waistband of his sweats. fuck foreplay, you don't want to be fingered or eaten out again. all you need is toji filling you up and stretching out your drooling cunt. you start to tug down on his joggers and he laughs.
“thought you said we shouldn’t do this.”
“i changed my mind,” you retort.
his sweatpants fall to the floor around his ankles, leaving him clad in only his t-shirt and boxers. you can almost make out the rough outline of where he’s started to leak precum, so you press one hand against his cock and squeeze gently. he shudders slightly, then places open-mouthed kisses against the crook of your neck. he trails down, down, between the valley of your breasts, until his lips brush the thin fabric covering your nipples. you were about to get ready for bed before this, so you’re not wearing a bra. tauntingly, he flicks his tongue out against the perky mound and drags it over, eliciting a strangled sound from you.
“t-toji—” your voice breaks on a moan. “don’t tease.”
then you feel the pads of his fingertips brush your waist as he lifts the fabric of your shirt up and over your head, discarding it on the floor. if you weren't so wet and so into toji, maybe you would have felt slightly embarrassed about being practically naked on megumi’s desk, your arousal definitely starting to seep through your panties and creating a damp spot on the wood.
one of his thumbs comes up to skate across the peak of your breast whilst his mouth latches around one of your sensitive buds and he sucks, eyes fluttering shut. your head rolls backwards at the overwhelming sensation that flies straight to your throbbing clit. his tongue is warm against you, circling your nipple and applying pressure periodically.
“please, toji,” you whine, hands tangled in his dark hair and pulling at the roots. “just want you to fuck me.”
he releases the suction from your breast with a pop! as a sticky trail of saliva runs down the underside of your plush flesh. a lazy smile plays on his lips as he uses one hand to push down his boxers and the other to slide your flimsy shorts below your ass as you shimmy your hips to give him easier access.
his eyes rake over your pussy—you're glistening and so so soaked for him. opening your legs wider, you take your index and middle fingers to your cunt and spread your dewy folds apart with a wet squelch.
“so wet for you, toji,” you whimper. “please fill me up.”
his cock is flushed crimson and throbbing and it’s long and thick. just from looking at it, you can tell you’ll have to adjust to the sheer size of him. he runs his thumb over his leaking tip and pumps his hand once, twice, across his entire length.
“no condom?” he questions, one eyebrow raised. the scar above his lip twitches.
“i’m on the pill,” you say, practically begging for his dick, now. “need to feel you in me.”
cocking his jaw to the side, he shuffles forward and runs his tip through your folds. you wince when it brushes against your pulsing clit.
“whatever you want, pretty.” lining the head up with your needy entrance, he pushes into you slooowly.
the two of you groan as he bottoms out; you at the pleasant stretch of his cock, and him at your silky walls that flutter around his cock. his large hands grip your waist and you clench around his dick, the burn between your legs gradually ebbing away into a thrumming pleasure. you use your hands to pull his own shirt above his chest and up to his neck and, for the first time, you can finally see his defined muscles in all their glory. running your nails down the ridges, you moan out.
“like what you see?” he huffs.
“fuck, yes,” you exhale as he starts to move inside you leisurely.
the pace of his thrusts quicken. you're moaning so sweetly and he’s grunting with every pump into you. bliss dances across your senses. your stomach sways and spins as toji choreographs a sultry tango, every step coaxing you further into its intoxicating rhythm, each movement bringing you closer to your surrender.
“with the way you’re—hah—moaning, i’d think you wanted the kid to hear us,” toji mutters under ragged breaths.
you're trying to keep quiet, biting down on your bottom lip to stifle each guttural moan that threatens to bubble up within you. “i—i can’t,” you gasp. “fuck, toji, feels so—ngh—good. i’m already—mmh, oh god, right there—already close.”
toji thinks you’re so cute. you’re getting so worked up on his cock, you’re sweating and panting and it only spurs him on further. “yeah? come on, pretty.” his jaw is clenched, trying his hardest to will away the orgasm that he teeters on. your cunt is just so warm and soft; you’re taking him so well that he can only hold on for so long.
and you? you’re so fucking close already. it’s almost pathetic, the way you've been waiting for this moment for who knows how long, and—now that you’ve finally obtained what you were craving—you’re already about to finish? he’s hitting you in all the right places and you’re trembling against him, muscles tensed in anticipation of the earth-shattering orgasm that keeps teasing you.
you're so lost in the sheer bliss of it all that you don't register the door swinging open aggressively.
“what the fuck?”
your head whips up to where the voice came from. now you're making direct eye contact with him. with megumi.
he’s so angry, he looks so angry right now, but toji is still thrusting into you relentlessly, as if nothing had happened at all. megumi’s hands are balled into fists by his side, staring wide with rage. he’s frozen, standing in the doorway.
the mortification of what you’ve done hurtles at you with full force, your orgasm crashing over you in surging waves. you can't seem to tear your eyes away from him, your best friend, but you’re whining toji’s name as you cum around his cock. your grip on his beefy biceps tightens and your legs lock around his torso to keep him close to you. toji, too, spills into you, his hot cum leaking out of your drenched hole.
you’re left breathless, body limp. toji lifts his boxers and joggers back up onto his waist, then uses two long fingers to push his cum back inside you, bringing them to his mouth. sucking his fingers clean, he turns around to face the doorway.
all megumi can do is stare in shock horror. stare at the way your skin gleams with a thin sheen of sweat, baby hairs plastered to your forehead. at the way your shoulders rise and fall with every laboured breath you take, your entire body trembling. and, worst of all, the way your legs are spread wide so that he can see your pussy dripping with cum. his own father’s cum.
“what the fuck is going on?” megumi hisses. “how could you— in my own room? with my own dad?”
your thighs slap together as you close them shut, cum sticky between your legs, probably oozing onto the desk below you.
“i’m so sorry, gumi, i—”
“don’t fucking call me that.” he stalks towards you, each step reinforced with pure, seething anger. he’s so close to you now and his hair is still slightly dripping from the shower. all he’s wearing in a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and he smells like soap and mint. a part of you feels so so remorseful but the other is just infinitely turned on again. especially when he pries your legs open, eyebrows knotted together.
“one dick not good enough for your slutty pussy?” his eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of your quivering figure, shuddering under his touch. “not satisfied with the sex we had last night?”
toji is on the other side of the room, shoulder pressed against the side wall. “maybe if you ate her out instead of just sticking your dick in her,” he snorts. “that’s not how you please a lady, kid.”
megumi’s head darts to his father, who is seemingly finding the whole situation rather amusing. “you went down on her?” then he looks back at you for an answer, rage burning in his pupils.
you nod slowly, murmuring. “this morning.”
shaking his head, he runs a hand through his damp hair, a laugh of indignation simmering over his lips. “can’t believe you let that old man touch you. was it worth it?”
toji pipes up. “seems like it was.”
you’re stuck in place, unable to move or speak.
“fucking slut,” megumi spits. “bet you’d jump at the chance to take both of us at the same time.”
instinctively, your thighs attempt to press together at the mocking—yet, still hot—temptation.
megumi’s eyes widen, then flick between your legs, then your eyes. back and forth. your skin goes warm under the piercing gaze of both men.
“you want both of us?” your friend bends down so that his lips are millimeters from yours. “then have us.”
masterlist
taglist @kawpd
note i know this heavily implies a part three being in the works but tbh i just dont write explicit smut ab megs
this part two was also requested by the following users, i hope you don't mind the tag! (lmk if you want me to remove it) @melmoney69 @pointandlaughitsokay @hpana
if anyone is interested, send an ask or comment letting me know:
the name of the blog you want to be tagged (plz make sure it's taggable!)
if you want to be on perma taglist (ie for any and all characters i post)
or if you only want to be tagged in works for specific characters (if so, lmk which ones!)
since i write nsfw, i'll only add you to the taglist if your blog specifies that you're 18+ (minors and ageless blogs will not be added)
much like in my request rules, i do want to be open with the fact that i write for some characters more often than others. if you want to know more the check out that post :D
can you please do some more cheating fics, i loveddd the one with toji <3
hiii anon thank you sm for enjoying the toji fic !!
i will defo start drafting something along those lines again soon... not too sure who i'll do it with tho i was thinking higuruma so stay tuned for that :D
it might take a while to get it finished and out bc exam season is in full swing rn so atm im just posting the pre-written drafts i already have <3
‧₊ ˚⊹ you always give in to toji, even when you’re mad at him
cw suggestive, toji is annoying as fuck
note inspired by this tiktok that had me giggling at the concept of this... i know this is my second post today my bad i js had to write it with haste fr
“why are you so mad?” toji asks, his gruff voice as infuriating as ever.
“because,” you spit back. “i told you to bring back one thing and you forgot.”
you fold your arms across your chest, tank top cut low. you're seething with anger. how many times did you have to tell him to do something before he would do it? you were getting sick of constantly reminding him about small things.
“it’s not that serious,” he drawls, taking a step closer to you.
your back is facing him, though you can feel his presence grow nearer. your chest heaves with every furious intake of breath. if toji is anything, he is fucking annoying. always getting on your nerves, always giving you flimsy apologies sugar-coated in the promise of sex. you refuse to let him get away with his infuriating charms today.
“it’s serious to me, toji!” you spin to face him on your heels, skin hot with the simmering anger that boils over within you. “you never take anything seriously.”
“come on, baby.” he inches closer to you, but you stay put. “don't you think you're overreacting?”
blinding rage flashes past your eyes at his comment that you know was purposely intended to provoke you. your lips press together as you try to swallow down your annoyance. you aren’t going to let him rile you up like he wants. you know he enjoys seeing you all bothered by him, whether it be from him being annoying or his stupid good dick game.
“toji, i can't fucking do this again. you're pissing me off on purpose—”
“i'm not,” he hums low. his eyes rake over your figure and you shift your weight between your feet, suddenly feeling flustered under his burning gaze.
fucking toji and his stupidly handsome face and that scar that quirks up when he grins at you through those eyes that he gives you. not to mention the fact that you can quite literally see a sliver of skin between his tight-fitted black tee and the grey joggers that hang low on his hips.
even when he’s finding otherworldly ways of getting under your skin, he's still so hot. but still, you keep your eyes locked on his, not wanting to let him acknowledge the effect he has on you.
“stop being so angry all the time,” he says as he finally reaches you, looking down at your figure through his dark lashes. you're so close now that your face is inches away from his firm chest, and you tilt your head to the side, away from him and his gaze.
“maybe if you stopped being such a dick all the time,” you huff, rolling your eyes.
toji laughs slightly, the sound rumbling low within him. he places his hands on either side of your hips, heavy and strong. one thumb plays with the elastic of your flimsy pyjama shorts, whilst the other hand slips underneath your cotton tank and rubs gently into your skin. his touch is warm and maddening, but you refuse to give in. not this time.
you're still craning your head away from him when he bends his head down to place a kiss against your skin, right where your jaw meets your neck. your pulse quickens. he can feel it. toji smirks into your skin, taking the hitch of your breath as a sign of your enjoyment which, to be fair to him, wasn't all wrong.
“you’re so annoying,” you exhale, the words coming out far breathier than you intended. as much as you try to ignore the throbbing between your legs, your body just can't help but respond to his touch.
toji’s practically purring into your skin, now. “you know i didn't mean it like that.” he places open-mouthed kisses on your neck, fingers still brushing against your waist. they eventually turn sloppy as he lightly sucks and nips at your skin, eliciting shaky whispers of a moan from you.
he kisses down your collarbones and trails to your bare chest, then your stomach; lower and lower until he’s on his knees in front of you, tugging at the waistband of your shorts. you do nothing to stop him, and you mentally chide yourself for succumbing to his charisma once again.
you bite down on your lower lip in a futile attempt to swallow down the whimper that threatens to escape. “i'm still mad at you,” you tell him.
‧₊ ˚⊹ your boyfriend can’t satisfy you, that’s why you call up toji 18+
cw 2.4k, cheating (dont do dis fr), oral f receiving, fingering, pinv sex, edging, implied age gap, toji gets kinda caring and soft at the end lol, not proofread
your boyfriend is an asshole. in more ways than one. you can't remember the last time he planned a date and whenever you arranged them yourself, he either came late or didn’t even show up. he wouldn't even apologise, either. he doesn’t buy you gifts, nor flowers. and you don't even want to get started on the sex.
the dickhead can't even tell when you're close because you don't think he’s ever actually made you orgasm before. always taking, never giving. just shoves his cock in you, cums within mere minutes, and rolls over to the other side of the bed. no foreplay unless it's you sucking him off, no aftercare because you don't really need it if you haven’t finished yourself. it’s not even like he leaves you wet and needy. no, you don't even get to that point in the first place because everything is always over so quickly.
sure, some people could call you a slut, only in it for the money. but, to be honest, were they really that far from the truth? the only reason you're still with him is because he takes care of you financially. you're a university student who barely manages to make ends meet—you have a job, but it pays pennies. all in all, you're not that mad at the situation anymore. you used to be, when you were slightly younger and more naive, but now you’ll settle for what you can get.
because, at the end of the day, you'll always have someone else to take care of your sexual frustrations. that’s why you're always calling up toji: the broke, single father that somehow knows exactly what you crave and when you’re craving it. you can't even remember how you ended up fucking around with him, but all you know is that you enjoy his presence. his dick game, for lack of a better term, goes fucking crazy. he’s also like, super hot and tall and has rock-hard abs that he even lets you ride sometimes.
you wouldn't think it just by looking at his gruff demeanour, but toji zenin is a real gentleman. aside from the fact that he can go down on you for what feels like hours without tiring, you can tell he cares. he’s always picking up jobs to be able to pay for megumi’s childhood, and he always lets you come over whenever you don't have lectures. if he weren't a sleazy gambler, you would probably consider dating him for real. it’s a shame he can't seem to let that habit go. oh well. you’d just have to take what you could get, for now.
one late night, when all the lights in your apartment are off and you're standing at the kitchen sink nursing a lukewarm glass of water, you decide to call him up. your fingers automatically find his contact in your phone, the motion a natural routine for you. tonight, you feel extra frustrated. you had a long day of lectures and seminars and, when you tried to get yourself off on your fingers, your dumbass boyfriend came home. the two of you ate leftover takeout from the fridge, then he went straight to bed.
the phone rings once, twice. a third doesn't even have the time to come through before you hear toji on the other end of the line, asking if you needed anything. god, he knows you and your body so well. not to mention the fact that you can already feel your panties dampening at the mere sound of his husky voice over the crackling call. all you can do is sigh, words failing to form on your lips. but that’s all toji needs to be able to know what you want.
“come over,” he rasps. “i’d come and get you but the kid is fast asleep and i can't leave him alone.”
you pretend to mull over his offer, pretend that you’re wondering about what your boyfriend will think if he wakes up and finds you gone. but you know he's completely out for the night, not that he would even care if you did leave. plus, toji knows you can't pass up an offer from him, not when you're yearning for his touch so badly.
hastily, you grab a spare change of underwear, a clean pair of shorts, and head out. efficiency is key, so you don't need to bring a shirt—toji will lend you one of his.
when you get to his place, it’s quiet. he smiles at you, scar jumping up on his lips. “looking sexy as ever, baby. come in.”
you can feel tingles scamper down your body at his compliment, goosebumps pricking the surface of your skin. obliging, you follow him up to his room. as always, it’s surprisingly neat. toji doesn't really do interior design, save for a leafy plant that megumi had offloaded onto him for some biology project.
neither of you wastes time with small talk. both parties know what the other is here for: to please and to be pleasured. now he’s kissing you, rough hands dancing across your body and pushing you toward the bed. you’re already moaning into his mouth, clutching at his fitted black tshirt and pulling him close, closer to you as though you needed him more than air itself.
toji chuckles as you fall back onto his mattress, pulling your shorts down in one swift motion. with possibly anyone else, you may have been embarrassed at how soaked through your underwear are. but this is toji, and you know what he’s thinking. you can tell by the way his hungry eyes rake over your figure as he pushes his nose into the damp fabric against your pussy and inhales. you can't take the teasing, all you want tonight is to cum.
“toji…” you breathe out. “p-please—”
you don't need to ask him twice. his fingers are hooking into your panties and peeling them off to reveal your glossy cunt. he presses his tongue out against your dewy folds, running it up to your clit, and his tongue is so warm and wet that you can't help but cry out in pleasure.
“can't believe he doesn't eat you out,” he groans against your pussy and you can feel the vibrations send heat pooling in your stomach. “you taste so good.”
“t-toji— mmf—” your body shakes as he grips your plush thighs with two strong hands. “feels amazing— fuck—”
you can feel him grin against you. “tell me what’s on your mind, doll.”
you’re so pent up and his mouth works wonders on your needy cunt, and you want him to carry on just like this, so you tell him.
“just wanna cum, toji,” you admit. “haven’t seen you in ages, my fingers don't feel like yours.”
“poor girl.” he pulls away from your pussy, lips swollen and coated in a sickening mixture of your slick and his saliva. he’s always been a messy eater, slurping and gulping you down like the finest liquor.
you whine at the loss of contact, hands threading through his hair in a desperate attempt to pull him back towards where you need him most. all he does in response is laugh and smash his lips to yours, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue. you wince at the salty tang.
“you want my fingers, yeah?” he purrs.
you nod and he trails a hand down your abdomen and twirls a strand of your bush between his fingers.
“god, don’t do that…” your face feels hot and you roll your eyes at him.
promptly, his middle and ring fingers glide through your folds, dipping into your entrance just a little, spreading your arousal alllll over your clit and pressing in quick, tight circles. you're gripping his muscled shoulders as soft whimpers spill over your lips, hips bucking into his touch. toji then presses his lips to yours once again, tongues gliding over one another in a sloppy mess of saliva and breathy moans. when he pushes two long fingers into you, your back arches off the bed and into his firm chest.
he breaks away from your lips, a strand of saliva connecting your mouth to his as he peers down at you through a half-lidded gaze. “why haven’t you left that lousy excuse for a man, yet?” he whispers.
“i’m—fuck yes, right there—i’m a lady with needs, toji,” you breathe out.
“you're telling me i don’t satisfy those needs?” he says, one eyebrow raised. he curls his fingers up into the spongy spot within you that makes your cunt drool and your stomach tighten. “come on, baby.”
it’s almost comical, you think, how unaware he is of his own situation. or, you would be thinking that if he weren't currently pumping two fingers in and out of you, the palm of his hand hitting your clit just right.
you gasp, all of the air in your lungs seemingly knocked out. “i—hah—call you up when i need to get off, toji.” his fingers are relentless within you, your wetness pooling in his hand. “you wouldn't be able to provide for me; you can barely handle little megumi.”
“you could help me care for him,” he murmurs, a faint tenderness underlying in his tone. “i’d make all the money. you wouldn't have to work a day in your life.”
“you wish,” you retort, mind slightly hazy with pleasure. “you would spend half the day gambling your money away and the rest of it fucking me. poor gumi wouldn't have dinner to come home to after school.”
you feel your orgasm building within you as he uses his thumb to graze over your clit underneath the hood, sending sparkling electricity through your veins.
“i’d treat you like a princess, not like that loser you have waiting at home. he doesn't know what he has, doesn't know how to treat a lady right.” he scissors his fingers inside of you. “i’m a real man, doll. i can give you everything you’d ever ask for.”
you laugh. “no you can’t, toji.”
he pulls his fingers out of you with a wet pop. the loss of stimulation is unbearable.
“tooooji…” you whine, slapping him on the shoulder. you lock your legs around his thick torso and try to pull him towards you, but he’s just too sturdy. “that’s not funny. i told you, i want to cum. please?”
he feigns consideration whilst he shoves his grey sweats down his thighs along with his boxers to reveal his leaking, throbbing dick. he hums, then runs his dick along your pussy, collecting all of your dripping juices.
“no,” he replies sharply. “not until you tell me you’ll break up with that bastard and come live with me and megumi.”
“in your dreams, zenin.”
at that, he thrusts into you in one foul motion, burying himself deep into you. your gummy walls clench around him instinctively and he can't help but groooaaan. his hips connect with yours, ramming into you hard and fast but it’s still better than anything your boyfriend has ever given you. as a matter of fact, toji gives you better sex than any other person you had ever been with.
he’s panting with every roll of his hips, black hair falling into his eyes, sweat beading on his forehead. now your entire body is shaking, thighs quivering, squeezing around his body. your head is spinning with bliss and the coil in your gut tenses ever so tightly, your hole fluttering around him. the two of you moan and your breaths are raggedy and the room smells rank, like sweat and pussy, but you don't care. all you can think about is toji toji toji and how badly you need to cum.
“p-please, toji, please let me cum—” you shoke back a sob.
he doesn’t let you. “your man ain’t shit,” he huffs. “tell me you’ll leave him.” he adjusts his rhythm down to an infuriatingly slow pace.
waves of pleasure ripple throughout your body, nails digging into his skin and raking down his clothed back. “t-toji, nghh, i can’t—”
“i’ll quit gambling, i swear. i have—shit—some jobs lined up with crazy payouts. fuck, you're so wet— i’ll treat you so good, you won’t even remember a life before me.”
“faster, god, toji, please.” you're practically begging him, now. “i want to cum, please let me cum!”
he slams into you and you cry out in ecstasy. obeying your pleas, he speeds up his thrusts into your leaking cunt. shlick, shlick, shlick, is all you can hear, is all you can feel. “tell me you will.”
“fuck, fuck, okay, i’ll leave him—”
“swear on it,” he growls, dick reaching infinitely deep within you. “swear you’ll do it right after this.”
you wail, the stimulation so overwhelming, your clit throbbing with need. “i swear, fuck! you feel so good, mmmh, oh my god,” you babble, muscles tensing as your orgasm creeps up within you. “i swear i’ll tell him we’re done. fuck, toji, i just want you— just want you to make me cum, please!”
“that’s my girl.”
then he’s thumbing your clit again, pumping into you with more fervour, never letting up eye contact with you. it doesn't take much more time before you’re coming undone all over his dick, gushing around him while you whine his name out. your cunt twitches around him and he’s so done for, he’s moaning. like, actually moaning out in pleasure as he spills into you.
the two of you are a sweaty tangle of limbs as he collapses on the bed next to you, reaching over to his nightstand to pull out a box of tissues to start cleaning up the mess you both made. he reaches down to your still-aching pussy and gently wipes away the sticky liquid between your thighs, your legs automatically parting for him.
as he dabs at you lightly, you grab your phone from the side and swipe it open. white light washes over your face and toji repositions himself to take a peek at what you’re typing up. he squints at the screen. you’re drafting a break up message to your (now, ex) boyfriend.
you look over at him and ask him if he’ll help you pick your stuff up tomorrow, but he’s not listening.
“you really meant it?” he asks. and for the first time ever, he looks genuinely surprised.
“meant what— oh, that i’d leave him?”
he nods, eyes glassy with some ineffable intimacy that you had never seen from him before.
“yeah, i did. don’t make me regret it, zenin.”
he exhales. “don’t call me that anymore. when i make you my wife, i’ll take your name.”
“you gross old man,” you laugh, shoving his shoulder. “you’re still a bum, you know.”
‧₊ ˚⊹ best friend's dad!toji eats you out on his son's bed 18+
part two
cw 3.7k, age gap, oral f receiving, just overall kinda wrong, mentions of hooking up with megumi but not detailed (both you and megumi are adults in this!!)
note my first ever toji fic… ive never written for him before so toji lovers i hope you enjoy this one !! (not proofread sorry :3)
you’re back in yours and megumi’s hometown during the summer break and your parents are on holiday for a while, so you decide to spend a couple of days at his place. the two of you haven’t had proper time spent together in what feels like forever, what with deadlines and exams constantly looming over your heads. finally, this summer, you can take a pause from all the stress and just unwind, and what better way to do so than spending a week with your best friend?
it’s weird, being back here as an adult. the last time you had been in megumi’s childhood home, you hadn't even moved out for university, yet. you also haven’t seen his father in years. you wonder how he’s keeping up now that megumi isn’t living at home for a majority of the year, wonder if he’s finally managed to find someone else to keep him company after tsumiki’s mother left—not that you were interested in his love life, though.
now you’re in his house for the first time in forever, and its like a warmth that wraps around you, holding on to the reminder of home. megumi goes back to the car to collect the rest of your stuff as you take in your surroundings. the house is the same. same furniture, same layout, even the same faint smell of that cheap coffee that megumi’s dad liked to drink.
then the staircase creaks, and toji is walking down in that same black tshirt that he always used to wear, but something’s different.
“megumi’s friend,” his voice is gravelly. “you’ve grown.”
oh, it’s different, all right. you don’t think you’ve ever noticed the way his voice lilts, though still low and husky. or the way his shirt clings to his biceps, muscles vaguely outlined through the cloth that hugs his skin. did he change? or did you? for some reason, you can’t seem to find the courage to greet him back.
then megumi’s back, and the thick tension has suddenly been cut but, still, it’s hard to fully relax again. for the rest of the time you spend at their house, you can never quite shake that cloying feeling you get when toji is around, and it seems as though he notices it, too. the hitch of your breath, the clench of your thighs, the flicker of your gaze; toji picks up on it all. but it’s not like it’s uncomfortable, or anything.
he’s just so fucking hot.
he’s like, all hard muscle and deep voice and he’s so caring and how could you not behold him in a different light now that you were grown? over the course of your stay, he’s always offering you snacks and drinks and making sure you feel right at home, being megumi’s best friend and all. and he’s always respectful with it, never tactless.
though, you always seem to catch his eyes lingering over your chest for a beat too long when you leave megumi’s room in the mornings, still wearing nothing but pyjama shorts and a tank top. and when you go to the kitchen in the dead of night, megumi having fallen asleep long ago, toji is somehow always still on the couch, some show playing faintly in the background. but you can’t really tell what he’s watching, because all you can focus on is how his gaze trails over your figure as you pour yourself a glass of water.
you would be lying to yourself if you said that you didn't find your own eyes wandering over to him during the day, because he just looks so good in those fitted shirts, and his arms bulge every time he folds them across his built chest. you wonder what it would feel like to have him pick you up and—
stop. what the fuck? he’s your best friend’s dad. he’s also probably twice your age. he’s also known you since forever; he would never dare do such a thing. you mentally chide yourself for letting your thoughts meander astray. you and megumi have been having a lovely summer together so far: playing games, going out to eat, taking long walks in the park. so, you try your best to extinguish the desire that burns deep in your gut, filthy and wrong.
then it’s late one night, you having crawled into bed with megumi hours ago. he must already be asleep on his side of the bed right now—he always slept before you and always woke up far earlier. you should really be asleep, too. and you’ve been trying to. really, you have.
but all you can think about is toji and what his tight muscles would feel like under your soft hands and how firm his thighs must be, what, with how thick they are. and, fuck, now you’re wet just thinking about it all. you shift in place, trying your hardest not to wake megumi next to you by rustling the blanket too much. it’s mildly annoying, your panties becoming soaked through with such quickness. because now you either have to do something about it (but then, you’d have to properly clean yourself up), or just try to will yourself to sleep despite the uncomfortable dampness growing between your thighs.
you must not have been doing a very good job at not disturbing megumi, because he clearly notices your frustration. he is your best friend, after all. who else knows you better than him? he must have picked up on your uneven breaths and the squeeze of your legs because, within a moment, he’s already got his hands on you and you’re already kissing him back without much thought.
there’s no doubt about it—megumi is your friend, nothing more. but the two of you definitely aren’t strangers to fleeting hookups every once in a while, whenever the clubs and tinder dates start to run dry and you have pent up energy aching to be released. there’s never romantic feelings in it, just a mutual agreement to help one another out when needed. it’s also not like there’s hours of foreplay or some sort of slow, sensual lovemaking session in missionary. no, there’s an unspoken rule of not trying to pursue anything more, which you’re both comfortable with.
the night spent with megumi is fine, as it always is. but that’s just it. fine. he gets you off perfectly well but you can't deny the fact that, deep down, you crave more. not from him, specifically, but you’re a woman with a sex drive! would it kill to be eaten out every once in a while? you fall asleep that night content, though not fully satisfied. it’s better than nothing, you guess.
the morning rolls around and megumi, once again, wakes up far earlier than you. you’re still half asleep, but conscious enough to feel him brush your hair from your face and whisper that he was going out to get breakfast for the two of you. he takes his time brushing his teeth and slipping out of his pyjamas and, by the time he’s left, you’ve woken up fully.
rolling over and shoving your face into a pillow, you groan. you’re mildly sore from the night before, but your clit still throbs with underlying need, still yearning for more. it’s still relatively early, sunlight peeking through the thin ribbons of megumi’s blinds. you try to will away the dull ache between your legs, but it’s literally impossible.
you find yourself succumbing to desire, lying flat on your back as your hand drifts to slip underneath the waistband of your shorts and into your underwear. you start slow, lightly grazing your sensitive bud and dipping into your hole to bring your juices up. as you begin to circle your clit, you let your mind indulge in whatever fantasies it can think up, as a little treat to yourself.
of course, the thoughts end up drifting off to toji. he’s probably still asleep, knowing him. you wonder if he heard megumi fuck you last night. you wonder if he heard you groan his son’s name, knowing his father was in the room next over. if he heard the lewd shlicks of megumi’s dick pumping in and out of you. or if he thought about fucking you the way you imagined your best friend was actually his own dad.
soft moans fill the room as you touch yourself with more fervour, more unfiltered need. it’s not long before you unconsciously find his name on your lips like a mantra.
“toji… fuck— oh my god, toji.”
it feels so good, being able to let yourself get lost in your obscene thoughts of your friend’s dad. it feels so good that you don’t hear the very man you’re lusting over swing the door open.
“you good?” he begins, then, “what the fuck?”
what the fuck, indeed. your hands fly to the blanket, scrambling to cover your face with the sheets.
“i’m sorry,” your voice is muffled from under the duvet. “i’m so sorry, i’ll leave, i’ll—”
“did megumi not satisfy you enough last night?” he replies cooly, unfazed by the fact that he just walked in on you touching yourself.
you’re completely caught off guard by his question. so he did hear the two of you. as you slowly edge the blanket off your face, your mind races with a million different responses to his question, none of which seem appropriate for the situation at hand.
but he continues to press you. “i would have thought he would be able to, seeing as he’s my son.”
“don’t talk about him like that,” you rebut. every inch of your skin feels hot, every cell on fire. “he did a perfectly good job.”
toji laughs, then. a thick, guttural laugh that makes his broad shoulders shake with every breath he takes. “i’m just saying—” he steps closer to you “—you’re a pretty girl who deserves to be pleased properly.”
you don't know what to say. what can you even say, at this point? a small part of you is telling you how wrong this is, how fucked up it is to megumi. but most of you is so fucking turned on.
“you know—” he’s still not done “—i’d have thought you were satiated from the way i could hear your moans through the walls last night.” he chuckles again, and your stomach twists with some unnamed feeling. “you’re not very discreet, are you?”
your head is shaking, no, before you can even register what you’re doing. and you feel dirty for divulging personal details between you and megumi to his own father, but your body is moving on its own, on pure instinct. this must be so many types of immoral, the way he’s inching closer to you and your thighs are clamping together and, as always, he notices. you know how wrong this must be, telling him about what you and megumi did—or, rather, didn’t do—during sex, but with the way his gaze is hot against your skin, you somehow end up confessing the fact that you’re itching to be eaten out.
toji looks startled at that. “he doesn’t go down on you?” he seems genuinely shocked. “he has a girl as pretty as you in the same bed as him and he doesn’t give your pussy a taste?” toji rubs a large hand across his face, as if utterly disappointed in his child. “what kind of son have i raised?”
before you can decipher how he’s feeling, he makes it clear. within the blink of an eye, his hands are gripping your thighs and pulling you down to the edge of the mattress so that your legs dangle over the side. you prop yourself up on your forearms so that you can see him at the foot of the bed. he’s kneeling down, now, eyeing up your clothed cunt like it’s a meal.
“let me show you how a real man pleasures a lady,” he murmurs, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and sliding them off in one foul swoop. cool air hits your pussy, making you hiss.
“shit, we shouldn’t— this isn’t—” your words are coming out in jumbled mess as he drags two long fingers through your dewy folds. “this is wrong, megumi isn’t home, we shouldn’t— not on his bed—”
“stop mentioning that boy and focus on me, pretty girl.” his voice is sultry and dripping with hunger, and his face is mere inches away from your bare heat, so you obviously have no other choice than to let him do as he wishes with you.
then his tongue is against you, warm and wet and sloooowly licking a thick stripe up, up, all the way from your drooling hole to your pulsing clit. he feels so good, and the situation is so so sinful, but it only riles you up even more, head tilting back in pleasure as he swirls his tongue against you.
“fuuuuck, mr fushiguro— feels good…” you mewl.
he grins against your pussy and the vibrations of his deep voice reverberate throughout your body, making you shudder.
“don’t pretend you weren’t just moaning my name out for the whole world to hear,” he drawls, still licking up and down your sticky sweet cunt. “call me toji.”
“oh god— toji!” your whines become strained, more desperate, as he plunges his tongue deep into your velvety walls, curling up into you.
one hand snakes around your thigh, grasping around your plush flesh as the other comes up to rub tight circles into your clit. your eyes squeeze shut, fingers gripping the sheets beside you as his tongue is fervid against you, dipping in and out of your entrance and sliding over your glistening lips. he’s groaning into you, peering up at your blissful expression through half-lidded eyes.
“know you’ve been wanting me since you got here,” he mumbles. “you’re not subtle.”
“and you—hah—haven’t been wanting me?” you reply, breath heaving at the sheer ecstasy you’re in.
“i never tried to hide it.”
then, somehow, it gets better. like, fuck, you’ve been eaten out before, sure. but never like this. he’s clearly experienced, knows exactly how to please a woman right. the muscles in his arms flex with every swipe against your clit, eyebrows furrowing slightly every time he flicks his tongue out against you.
it’s disgusting, the vulgar sounds that echo across the room, a lewd chorus of slurps and gulps and whines and moans.
“toji— shit—” you whimper, legs starting to tremble as the coil in your lower belly threatens to unfurl with ferocious magnitude. “so—fuck—so close!” your hands fly to his head, gripping his dark hair and pulling him infinitesimally close to you. your hips buck up into his mouth, practically grinding your cunt against his face as you chase your high.
and he doesn’t let up, not even for a second. whereas, before, he was alternating between tracing slow, lazy patterns on your pussy and quick, sharp pulses against your clit, he now maintains a steady pace. it feels fucking incredible.
“let go for me, pretty,” he purrs.
“fuck! toji— ‘m cumming!”
your thighs clamp around his head, hard, as you gush on his mouth, and he laps up every last drop of you, tounging you through your explosive orgasm. you push his head away, panting. he’s smirking, the bottom half of his face covered in a shining mess of your cum and his spit, his scar quirked up in amusement. and he’s licking the mixture from his lips, bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean. fucking hell, he’s hot.
“that good?” he teases.
“i didn't even know head could feel like that,” you respond earnestly, no energy left in you to be able to find a cocky retort.
“we should get you cleaned up. i’ll get you a towel.” toji stands up, stretching his arms out behind him, cocking his neck to the side. “if you ever need help like that again, you know where to find me.”
your stomach flutters again at his comment. you definitely wouldn't be opposed to that. he leaves the room, padding off to his bathroom.
looking down at the soaked sheets, darkened with your slick, you realise you have a lot more cleaning up to do than just yourself. you should probably find a way to deal with the wet patch on your friend’s bed, and quickly. what would megumi think if he came back home to this?
masterlist
note might be working on a part two...? anyone down?
‧₊ ˚⊹ gojo meets your desi family for the first time
note 4k-ish, this is a crude mix of bengali and pakistani culture as i'm most familiar with those (also this is written so poorly i did it in one evening i'm so sorry ill write another desi reader soon i promise), but i hope all of my desi baddies can find elements of themselves in this <33 dt @megumilky21 who requested desi reader loveu mootie
you’re standing outside of your house next to satoru, your boyfriend, who is currently working himself up into a frenzied state. you can practically see the nerves oozing out of him. satoru gojo, who prided himself on always presenting a strong front, was currently bouncing off the walls with apprehension.
“what if they don't like me?” he voices aloud, threatening to make the fear all too real. “what if they want you to end up with another south asian person? what if they think i'm not serious enough for you? what if—”
“satoru,” you hurriedly cut off the endless waterfall of anxious thoughts polluting his mind and spilling out his mouth. “they will love you, i promise.”
he fusses with the collar and sleeves of the kurta he’s wearing, so you rest your hands against him, running down his firm chest and smoothing out the cotton. it’s black with delicate embroidery swirling around the collar, fitted against his broad shoulders and hugging his biceps. standing here, under the dim glow of the porch lights, you can't help but admire how incredible he looks in traditional attire.
once the evening had been marked in your calendar, satoru had begged you to take him to get traditional clothes for him, claiming that it would make a good first impression on your family. you had been more than happy to take him shopping, the two of you spending hours browsing all of the patterned fabrics, gleaming gold jewellery, and beaded khusse. he had always been enamoured with the exuberance of your culture, always willing to immerse himself in it much like you did with his own.
“do i look okay?” his voice is small and timid.
“you look beautiful, satoru. it’ll be love at first sight for them, just like it was for me.”
he nods, smiling carefully, and presses a quick kiss to your forehead. but, you know that, deep down, he’s still a wreck. you've never seen him this nervous in your life. although, to be fair to him, he was about to meet your entire desi family—parents, sister, uncles, aunts, and cousins. you had tried to tell your parents that they didn't need to invite the entire family tree, but they insisted.
with a squeeze of his forearm, you ring the doorbell. you can hear muffled voices and shuffling footsteps from inside, then the front door swings wide open. you’re met with the beaming grin of your younger sister. the assumption you make is that everyone is too busy rushing around making last minute preparations, so they sent her to greet you.
“aapi!” she throws her arms around you, though her head barely comes up to your hips. she’s only little, and you know she misses you all the time since you moved out for university.
you ruffle her hair, which elicits a whine and a frown. “suto affa spent ages making it nice, she won’t be happy with you.”
“hey,” you pinch her round cheeks. “don't embarrass me in front of toru.” you nod your head towards satoru, whose weight is shifting from one foot to another, though he watches you and your sister with affection.
at your mention of gojo, she turns her whole body to face him, giving him a long look up and down.
“hello,” he smiles, crouching down to be eye level with her. “i’m satoru. you must be y/n’s sister. i’ve heard lots about you.”
“like what?” she interrogates him, folding her arms.
satoru chuckles. “i’ve heard about your love for brownies. shall we bake some together one day?”
her face lights up exponentially at the mention of her favourite dessert. “yes, please! but…” her voice trails off and she inches closer to your boyfriend, whispering into his ear. “don’t bring aapi, she always tells me to not eat too many.”
“oh, don’t worry. she won’t be there. plus, i would never stop you from having more.”
gojo then stands up, clearly more relaxed, evening out the bottom of his kurta. your sister tugs at the edge of your dupatta. you bend down to hear her better.
“i like him,” she murmurs, giggling. “can he stay?”
“i’ll do my very best to make sure he does.”
she then whips back around to him and reaches her hands up towards him. he gets the hint, lifting her up with ease as she wraps her short arms around his neck. satoru flashes you a cocky smirk, and you narrow your eyes at him.
‘whatever,’ you mouth to him.
the two of you enter the house, you first and satoru following suit, slipping your shoes off at the entrance. as you walk through the hallway and into the living room, you’re immediately bombarded with a million people coming up to greet you—anyone else would have thought you were getting married, not just introducing your boyfriend to your family. as expected, your mother is at the front, arms already open for an embrace.
“you look beautiful, meri jaan. have you been eating well?” she hugs you tightly. tears prick the corners of your eyes at the tenderness of it.
“of course, amma. i’ve been cooking more nowadays, you know. even satoru enjoys my food.”
“oh, satoru!” her attention darts towards your boyfriend, who is towering over everyone in the room. you watch her weave through people to end up introducing herself and cupping gojo’s face, and they’re both smiling ear to ear.
originally, you thought the excited buzz in the room was for you coming home, but you couldn't have been further from the truth. a small crowd has formed around your boyfriend; he’s shaking khalus’ hands and bending down to receive kisses on his hair from khalas. your sister is on the ground, now, clinging tightly to his leg as if worried he would somehow disappear.
your bhaiyas immediately start up banter with him, and he goes back and forth with ease, as you knew he would. you’re still greeting the last of your sasis and sasas, when you catch a glimpse of your female cousins from the corner of your eye.
they're slightly distanced from the rest of the group, standing in a tight huddle. the oldest one catches your gaze and grins at you. they’re all hushed whispers and giggles until they make their way over to you.
“aaps, are you joking?” your youngest cousin gawks at satoru’s tall, built figure. “he’s sexy.”
“don’t say that about her partner.” her older sister smacks her on the shoulder and she clutches it dramatically. “but does he have a brother?”
the group of you laugh loudly, your heart soaring with love for your family. you haven’t seen them in ages, so being back with them truly feels like home.
“how did you manage to get him to wear a kurta?” one of the older ones asks. “he looks good in it.”
“he asked to wear it himself, i didn't force him,” you answer honestly, much to the exasperation of your cousins, who you can tell are simultaneously happy for you but are also mildly jealous. you can't blame them, really. he truly is one of a kind.
you glance over at satoru, who is in the midst of friendly conversation with the other half of your cousins. they’re all laughing, clapping him on the shoulder as if he’s just made the most hysterical joke in history. your chest tightens with adoration at the sight of your boyfriend getting along so well with your family.
“mishti!” your boro bhai calls for you. “come here, we haven’t seen you in forever.”
you make your way over to them, the two halves of cousins mingling into one large group. lifting your sister into your arms, you stand next to satoru. he bends down slightly.
“what does mishti mean? are you mishti?” he attempts to whisper to you only, but obviously your boro affa hears him with her eldest grandchild hearing abilities.
“you’ve never told him?” she squeals. the rest of the cousins mirror one another, all erupting into laughter.
you stand there slightly awkwardly, never having told satoru about your family nickname. a blush creeps up his face as his hand rubs the back of his neck.
“well, tell him, then!”
“ah, well—” you falter. but satoru catches your eye and gives you a small nod of reassurance. “it’s my home name. we all have them and they’re different from our birth certificate names. it’s essentially just a nickname the whole family will call you. sometimes it’s just a regular name, other times it can have a cute meaning attached to it.”
he nods, understanding. “so, what does your name mean?”
“mishti,” you say. “it just means sweet. we use it to refer to any type of sweet dessert.”
“mishti,” he repeats softly. “i like that.”
a chorus of awwws and ewwws ensue and you feel your skin go hot.
“come on, now,” boro affa speaks up. “leave them alone. it’s time to eat, anyway.”
putting your sister back down, you make your way over to the sprawling dining table. it’s covered in an assortment of dishes—steaming egg bhuna, fried aloo sabzi, fluffy lamb pilau, and countless others. it smells heavenly. as much as you attempt to recreate your mother’s cooking, nothing can compare to the original.
you’re wondering where your dad is until you see him emerge from the kitchen, a piping hot plate of his signature dali bora in hand. he’s placing it anywhere on the table, not looking where it gets set down, before he’s speeding over to you. you find yourself wrapped in his arms within seconds.
“sorry, jaan.” he apologises. “i had to finish frying. how are you?”
“i’m great, baba. i missed you.”
“i’ve missed you too, mishti,” he then turns to look at satoru, who is visibly more nervous than he was two seconds ago. “satoru gojo, i assume?”
oh baba. not the full name…
“yes, sir,” your boyfriend bends his head down towards your father, then shakes his hand.
your dad gives him a once over from head to toe, then gestures for him to sit down at the table. gojo looks at you, worry in his eyes, but you shake your head lightly. your dad can be a little over the top sometimes; this is nothing for him to be nervous about.
satoru, knowing his manners well, waits for your mother and father to first sit at the table. after they’re sat, your mum urges the two of you to sit directly opposite them. you take a seat first with gojo on your right, all of your aunts and uncles filling up the spaces around you. your married cousins file in with them, too. at the other end, the rest of your cousins gather around and take their places at their side of the table. it feels strange not being next to them at the designated kids’ table.
in your peripheral vision, you can see your sister starting to get worked up over something.
“no!” she exclaims. “i don't want to sit here, i want to sit over there.” she points at you and satoru.
“they’re going to have adult conversations on that table, isn’t that boring?” the youngest cousin—though, still older than your little sibling—tries to comfort her.
“it’s okay, she can sit here,” you call out. “we can put another chair between me and mani and i’ll feed her.”
“noooo…” your sister whines once again. “i don't want to sit next to aapi. i want to sit next to toru bhaiya.”
the mood of the whole room lightens at her comment. satoru chuckles, pink dusting his cheeks.
“seems like someone’s taken a liking to you,” you whisper to your boyfriend. “already nicknaming you.”
then someone is pulling a chair between gojo and your sasa, and your sister is skipping over merrily, plonking herself down beside him. someone else gets up to get a plastic spoon from the kitchen for her, so that satoru doesn’t have to feed her himself. he tucks her chair in for her and her legs dangle over the edge.
“start putting your food in!” your mum encourages.
everyone springs to life, filling their plates with good, hot food. despite his polite protests, your mother puts food into satoru’s plate for him, then does yours. after getting his plate made, gojo spoons in small portions of curry and rice for your sister. you begin with fried snacks: samosay, cutlets and, of course, your dad’s dali bora.
“baby,” satoru leans in, voice quiet. “shall i eat with my hands, like you?”
fuck. you probably should have given him a spoon to eat his rice with. like the rest of your family, you’re used to eating with your hands. it had slipped your mind that satoru definitely was not familiar with this.
“shit—sorry,” you stumble. “let me get you a spoon. affa—”
“no,” he cuts you off. “i want to try. teach me how.”
a smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. what ever did you do to deserve such a kind man? so, you show him how to mix the rice with the saalan, ball it up so it doesn’t reach past your fingers, and thumb it into your mouth. his eyes follow your every move. when you tell him to give it a go himself, it's as if he’s been eating rice with his hands his entire life—he’s a natural.
“toru bhai!” your sister pipes up, food smeared all around her mouth. “you’re good at that. everyone look at bhaiya!”
suddenly all eyes are on satoru, who smiles sheepishly. you can tell they appreciate him trying his best to integrate himself into the culture.
“beta, is the food too spicy?” your mother asks him. “i put less chillies in for you, i hope it’s not—”
“amma, don’t embarrass him!” you scold her, but she just shrugs it off.
“kya hua? i’m just asking.”
satoru interjects your death glares at your mum. “aunty, the food is perfect. thank you.”
you smile at him calling your mother; you taught him well.
however, before the two of you can get too comfortable eating dinner, your dad, as expected, starts to borderline interrogate you.
“so, satoru,” he begins calmly. “do you intend to marry our daughter?”
you catch a glimpse of your cousins trying to hold in their laughter.
and poor satoru, who flushes a deep crimson, almost choking on his food. you had told him in advance to expect these types of intrusive questions, but you didn't predict this. you thought it would be the usual: what are you studying, what are your plans for the future, how do you plan to support yourself? you did not expect him to be so… straightforward.
how is he going to respond? even you were caught off guard with this question. you had only ever briefly touched on the subject of marriage, the two of you far too young to be thinking so forward.
satoru takes a sip of his water, swallowing hard. “i do,” he nods, words affirmative and sure. “but not any time soon.”
the room goes quiet. all the faces around the table look vaguely confused, but your father waits for your boyfriend to explain himself.
“i don’t want a wedding to hinder either of our studies. i want both of us to be able to support ourselves before we settle down. i have no doubt in my mind that i want to marry her, but her own future should come first.”
you look at your boyfriend in awe. when the fuck did he have time to think of all that? you make a mental note to yourself to ask him about it later. for now, you take the opportunity to bask in the pride of bringing home such an incredible man. your father smiles. you know he’s been won over. at the other end of the table, your cousins are miming clapping their hands, nodding their heads in satisfaction at your boyfriend’s answer.
the rest of the dinner comes easily. conversations flow smoothly, everyone is in good spirits after gojo’s thoughtful comment. they all take delight in their darling mishti finding her own happiness.
afterwards, satoru doesn't hesitate to help clean up. he decants leftovers into plastic containers, brings empty pots to the sink, and even joins boro affa in washing and drying the dishes. your sister sits on the edge of the countertop, swinging her legs in the air, trying to keep all of satoru’s attention on herself.
all of your family keep coming up to you and complimenting you on your taste in partners. they’re awestruck at how much charisma he has. he’s managed to somehow get every single one of them wrapped around his fingers.
‘he’s so polite.’ ‘he’s so handsome.’ ‘i hope i can find someone who loves me like that one day.’
and all you feel is utter adoration for satoru. you’re so immensely proud of how he fought through his nerves and garnered the affections of your entire family, just as you knew he would. after all, he’s satoru gojo. who doesn't love him?
you’re passing by the sink to put away some placemats when you overhear faint voices. it’s satoru and your cousin. you try not to listen in, but you just can’t help it.
“she’s the love of my life. i would never do anything to hurt her,” he murmurs.
your heart thrums with glee. you know he loves you, he makes sure you never forget that. but, hearing him say it so definitively to the people you care about feels different, feels like a different type of real.
when the night is done, after you’ve all bantered over countless cups of chai and numerous bowls of mishti doi, you begin to hug everyone goodbye. you weren’t going to stay the night tonight, having early morning lectures tomorrow, but you made sure to promise to do so in the future. your cousins tell you that they’re already planning their outfits and choreographing dances for your wedding. your sister is the most upset by your leaving, though you suspect she’s actually more distraught over satoru going by the way she clings to him like a koala.
a pout forms on her lips as satoru picks her up once again. “come back soon, please, toru bhai.”
“i will. i promise,” he hugs her. “and don’t forget our brownie making playdate!”
she squeals with joy at the reminder of his proposition, then runs off back to the living room, probably to brag to all of the cousins.
you’re at the front door when your mother hugs you goodbye. “you two make a lovely couple, pyaari,” she kisses your cheek. “and he’s handsome, but never as beautiful as my daughter.”
she takes her time saying farewell to satoru, even pulling him in for a hug. he thanks her for the food and for the generosity. then your dad kisses you on the forehead.
“keep studying hard, meri jaan. we’re all proud of you.”
it takes everything in you to will away the stinging tears. he faces gojo and shakes his hand.
“thank you for having us, sir—”
“drop the formalities, son,” your father laughs. a real, full bellied laugh. “you’re family, now, married or not. come back soon.”
you can see a physical weight fall from your boyfriend’s shoulders. the entire night, all he had really wanted to do was impress your parents and sister. he had successfully managed to charm his way into your mother and sister’s hearts with ease, so all that was left was your father.
the two of them share a hug and you say your final goodbyes. the door clicks shut behind you as you walk to your car.
“you did so well, baby,” you tell satoru as you both strap yourselves into your seatbelts. “i think they all love you more than they love me.”
gojo chuckles. “your family is lovely. they truly care about you, you know? i don't know how many times one of your cousins came up to me and threatened to kill me if i ever mistreated you.”
“sorry about them,” you giggle at the absurdity. “they can be overprotective.”
“nah, they’re all good people.”
the both of you sit in a comfortable silence for a while as satoru drives back to your shared dorm, unwinding after such an intense evening.
you break the quiet with a question. “did you mean it?”
“mean what?” he muses. “oh! your dad’s question? yeah, well, i don’t want to hinder your career with a huge wedding, and—”
“not that,” you cut him off. “did you really mean that you have no doubts about marrying me?”
he rubs a gentle hand against your outer thigh. “of course i meant it. i want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“so do i.”
a beat passes before he’s posing another question.
“i know what mishti means, that’s your home name,” he speaks again. “but what is meri jaan? another nickname?”
your chest squeezes at his attempt to pronounce the words. his accent isn’t perfect, but it’s good enough, and he’s trying his best, which is all that matters.
“it’s a term of endearment. like saying ‘my love.’”
he nods, whispering it to himself under his breath, trying to get the pronunciation correct.
and when you’re lying in bed, drifting off to sleep tangled in satoru’s arms against the warmth of his chest, you can just about make out his words.
kianamaiart
annaxmalina
blakekathryn
izzy806
janainaart
origamiaround
tangentwithtanner