in which you're katsuki bakugo's favorite coffeeshop server even if it takes you a while to realize it
ever since your first day as a server, your coworkers were quick to assign you the one customer that everyone avoided. now, it’s your fifth month working at a café in musutafu and also the fifth month in which you’ve been dynamight’s diligent server. tall muscular body cladded in his hero costume, heavy gaunts draped on the table and a look that could kill on his face, you were kind of nervous to serve him the first time. but now you didn't understand their fear of talking to him. dynamight, or bakugo like he asked you to call him, was sweet. always sparking up a conversation with you, leaving a very generous tip or complementing the coffee like it was the best thing on earth (you didn't have the heart to tell him you were only in charge of serving it, not making it). unlike what your coworkers, or well everyone thought, he was really a sweet laid-back guy. so it’s with a smile and a quiet excitation that you walked towards his table this morning, coffee in hand.
‘’dynamight, welcome! i already prepared your usual coffee but do you want anything else?’’ you asked cheerfully
all you got in return was the warning look you always received when you forgot to call him by his desired name
‘’sorry, bakugo…’’ you giggled
‘’that’s better yeah, and get me one of those muffins too, sweets’’
few months ago you would have blushed at the nickname but now? you were too used to bakugo’s playful kindness
you walked back to the counter, reaching for his muffin, when one of your coworkers started talking to you
‘’you know, i’ll never get over how sweet he is to you’’ she said, smirking at you
‘’and i’ll never get over how many times i’ve told you that he’s just a sweet guy to everybody’’
‘’pff, please…you have to be legally blind to not see that that fine piece of meat is flirting with you everytime he comes here’’ she answered
‘’no he’s not! and if you actually did the effort to go take his order for once, you’ll see how nice he actually is’’ you answered, fed up with her prejudices against the hero
‘’ok let’s bet, i’ll go over there and bring him his muffin. if he’s as nice as you said, i’ll leave it alone but if he acts coldly, which i know he will, you ask him out on a date.’’ she said excitedly
‘’are you crazy! no way in hell am i asking out THE dynamight on a date, he’s gonna say no, i’m gonna be humiliated and known forever as the dumb server who got rejected publicly by the numero one hero’’
‘’except none of that is gonna happen because he’s obviously into you. anyways a bet’s a bet’’
before you could even answer, she was already walking to his table, muffin in hand. you were maybe totally against her idea, but you were still curious to see how he was gonna talk to her. surely he wasn’t gonna be acting any way different than usual right? so you discreetly got closer to his table, pretending to clean a nearby counter.
‘’here’s your muffin sir, hope you enjoy it’’ you coworker said cheerfully
‘’thanks’’ bakugo barely mumbled
‘’and if you need anything else feel free to ask me’’
‘’hm yeah’’ he answered not even looking up to her
your coworker walked back to the counter, eyeing you knowingfully. you quickly scattered back to her side.
‘’what the fuck i-’’
‘’shh, i won the bet. now i believe you have a little something to do’’
‘’no i’m sure it wasn’t like that, he was probably shy or something’’
‘’dynamight? the number one hero? shy? yeah i don’t think so, now go!’’
accepting your fate, you walked towards the hero’s table slowly. that was it. the ultimate public humiliation. you remembered all the time you laughed at people for falling in public and thought that this moment was probably your karma slapping you in the face. but it didn’t make sense, bakugo was usually so sweet and chatty and smiley. how did he suddenly turn non-verbal?!
when you reached him, bakugo immediately greeted you with a smile that you nervously shot back.
‘’you sending your coworkers to serve me now? i thought i was your favorite costumer’’ he said grinning
‘’well..huh…i had some huh…cleaning, yes…some cleaning to do’’ you mumbled, feeling your cheeks starting to burn
‘’well that counter seemed awfully clean to me, but if you say so’’
you looked at him for a few seconds, gathering all your courage to ask the question that was going to crush your dignity.
‘’so huh you’re single? maybe?’’ you asked, not daring to look him in the eyes
he looked confused for a moment before barking out a laugh
‘’the past five months of me flirting with you didn’t give it away?’’
‘’you were flirting with me?!’’ you said, not believing it
his face was now completely blank, staring at you like he was trying to figure out if you were playing a big prank on him.
‘’you’re joking right?’’
‘’no! i thought you were just really nice idk…’’
‘’being nice? since when am i nice to people?’’
‘’i really thought you were like that with everybody’’ you whined, ashamed
‘’so does that mean you weren’t flirting back because that would be very embarrassing for me’’ he said, laughter evident in his voice
‘’well, maybe not but that doesnt mean i’m not interested’’
he grinned at you and slid his phone over to you
‘’how bout you put your number in there then you can find out how sweet i actually am hm?’’
you blushed at the innuendo before quickly typing your number in his phone. he took it back and shot you another smile. god he was so handsome, you can't believe he just asked for your number.
‘’i gotta go, but i’ll text you later’’
he got up, squeezing your waist as he walked past you. he had almost reached the door when you remember the bet you had made. you hurried over to him and this time it didn’t take as much courage
‘’wait! so you would want to go on a date with me?’’
‘’i figured i’d be the one doing the asking but of course pretty’’
‘’okay cool’’
he chuckled at your awkwardness before putting his hand on your arm letting it slide until it reached your hand. he lingered there, just staring at you and you were growing flustered. fortunately, he pulled away before you could turn bright red
‘’well, i’ll see you soon then’’ you said shooting him a soft smile
‘’yeah, can’t wait’’ he answered smiling back at you
he turned around and walked out but your eyes stayed stuck on his back, barely processing what had just happened.
‘’told you’’ a voice behind you said, making you jump
you turned around and saw your coworker, grinning at you
‘’oh shut up’’
she just laughed and walked away, while you were stuck in place internally and simultaneously freaking out and giggling.
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You, a rising model lands a major opportunity with Vogue for their annual cover and fashion campaign. As you continue to navigates the industry, you finds herself working with ProHero Bakugou, leading to an unexpected mix of attraction, tension, and romance.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k
You had been modeling for four years. Still seen as “new” in the business, but your name was rising fast. You were getting noticed through runway shows, magazine spreads, and interviews. When your agent told you that Vogue wanted you for their annual cover and fashion collection campaign, it felt like all your hard work was paying off.
Later that afternoon, you sat in a café with your best friend, [friend’s name], still buzzing from the news. The smell of the warm pastries filled the air as you scrolled through your messages. Then a new notification popped up from your agent.
“Wait… what?” you muttered.
Your friend leaned over your shoulder. “What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
You turned your phone toward her. “Remember that Vogue shoot I mentioned?”
“Yeah, the one where you work with cute heroes?” she teased, grinning.
You laughed. “Well, apparently, I’ve been paired with Dynamight.”
Her jaw dropped. “SHUT UP! You’re kidding!” She grabbed your hands, shaking them excitedly. “Oh my god, Y/N! That’s huge!”
You smiled shyly. “I know, but… I’m nervous. This is such a big deal for my career. I don’t want to mess it up.”
Your friend huffed and tilted your chin up. “Y/N, stop. You’re the hardest-working person I know. You’ve been killing every job lately. You’ve got this.”
You couldn’t help but smile at her confidence in you.
“And come on,” she added, smirking. “You get to work with a hot hero. Maybe you two will spark some chemistry… if you know what I mean.”
You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Oh, shut up.”
Meanwhile, across the city, Katsuki Bakugou sat in his agency’s lounge, looking like someone had sentenced him to community service.
Kirishima clapped him on the back. “Dude, you’re going to be on the cover of Vogue! You should be excited!”
“Tch,” Bakugou grumbled. “This is stupid. Can’t believe I got roped into this.”
“C’mon, man,” Denki said, grinning. “It’s a big deal! You’ll gain popularity and meet cute models!”
Mina and Sero groaned in unison. “Moron,” they muttered at Denki.
“Everyone shut up!” Bakugou barked, running a hand through his hair. “None of you idiots are helping.”
Kirishima leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee. “Look, bro. You might not have a choice, but think about it. This could show people another side of you. You’re not just the angry guy with explosions. Show them you’ve got range.”
Bakugou glared for a moment before exhaling through his nose. “Whatever.”
The next day, you arrived at the studio early. Nerves fluttered in your chest as stylists buzzed around, prepping lights and fabrics. You spotted him immediately—spiky blond hair, sharp eyes, and an aura that made everyone else instinctively move aside.
Taking a deep breath, you approached him. “Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to work with you,” you said with a polite bow.
He glanced at you, unimpressed. “Yeah, nice to meet you.”
You blinked, taken aback by his bluntness. You had seen his fiery attitude on TV before, but in person, it hit differently.
Trying to fill the awkward silence, you said, “So… are you excited for the shoot? I was a bit shocked when they told me you’d be doing this too.”
He gave you a sideways look. “Tch. I don’t care about this crap. My manager and friends think it’s a good PR move; that’s all.”
You let out a nervous laugh. Great. This was going to be fun.
A few minutes later, the crew ushered you both toward the set. You changed into a sleek black leotard paired with tights and tall boots while Bakugou appeared shirtless in black slacks—his usual mix of confidence and danger.
The photographer called out poses. You stepped close, one arm brushing his chest while his hands rested around your waist. His palms were warm, rough, steady. For a moment, your heartbeat drowned out everything else.
As the shoot continued, something shifted. The tension eased. He started to relax, you loosened up, and your poses flowed naturally. When you leaned in and met his eyes, the flash of the camera seemed to fade away. His gaze held yours—steady, focused, and unexpectedly soft.
You didn’t know what to make of that.
When the photographer finally called it a wrap, you both stepped apart, exhaling in sync. You changed into your regular clothes, hesitating outside Bakugou’s dressing room before knocking.
“Who is it?” his muffled voice called.
“It’s Y/N,” you replied.
“What do you want?”
You rolled your eyes. “Open the door and I’ll tell you.”
The door swung open, and he glared down at you. “Oi. What?”
You crossed your arms. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab lunch or something. You haven’t eaten all day.”
“Tch. I appreciate the gesture, but I’m good.” He started to close the door, but you stopped it with your hand.
“Seriously? What’s your deal?” you snapped. “I’m trying to make this less awkward, and you act like it’s torture to hang out for one meal.”
Bakugou looked away, jaw tightening.
“Whatever,” he muttered. “I’ll go. Just quit whining.”
You sighed but smiled a little. “Great. I’ll text you the address.”
Two hours later, you sat across from each other at a cozy café. The air smelled like coffee and sugar, and sunlight poured through the windows.
He was still in his hero hoodie, hood down, hair tousled. You tried not to stare, but it was hard.
“Thanks for coming,” you said, stirring your drink. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually show up.”
He smirked faintly. “You sounded annoying enough that I figured you’d keep nagging until I did.”
You laughed. “You’re not wrong.”
For a while, you talked about work, the chaos of the shoot, and even the media pressure he usually hated. He was less harsh when he spoke like this. Just honest.
At some point, your knee brushed his under the table, and neither of you moved away.
When you finished your drinks, you hesitated. “Hey… if you’re not busy, we could hang out at my place. It’s close, and I owe you real food. My cooking’s not great, but I promise not to poison you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You sure that’s safe for me?”
You smiled. “Guess you’ll have to risk it, hero.”
He gave a small, amused snort. “Fine. Lead the way.”
The walk to your apartment was quiet but comfortable. When you unlocked the door, the tension between you felt thick and buzzing.
He stood close behind you, his breath brushing your neck. “You really gonna make me dinner?” he asked, voice low.
You turned, heart racing. “Maybe later.”
His eyes flicked from your mouth to your eyes, and before you could overthink it, he leaned down and kissed you. It was firm, unhurried, but full of heat. The room filled with sounds of your lips smacking. your spit connecting with his as your tongue runs across his bottom lip. His grip tighten on your waist, heat crawling up his neck. this was a much more passionate kiss than before. your heart was pounding as you continued with the deep sensual make-out.
you started rocking back against his bulge feeling it grow bigger between your legs. your heart was pounding as you pressed down, but bakugou pulled away briefly as a deep husky groan escaped his lips.
You grinned softly. “Guess we’ve got chemistry after all.”
“Tch. Don’t get cocky,” he muttered, but the faint smirk on his lips gave him away.
Weeks later, your Vogue cover hit the stands. The photo of you and Dynamight—him in all his sharp-edged glory, you bold and confident at his side—went viral instantly.
You gained a surge of recognition, more offers, and multiple interview requests. During one of them, the host leaned forward with a sly grin.
“So, Y/N,” they began, “you worked closely with Pro Hero Dynamight. Be honest—was there any attraction?”
You smiled, trying to play it cool. “I mean, who wouldn’t be attracted to him? He’s strong, hardworking, and definitely not as mean as everyone thinks.” You paused, teasing. “But yeah… he’s hot.”
The interviewer laughed. “Fair enough!”
You didn’t think much of it afterward—until your phone exploded with notifications. Clips from the interview were trending everywhere, with headlines blaring your quote.
Meanwhile, Bakugou’s phone blew up too. He scowled at the screen, scrolling through articles—then smirked.
A few minutes later, your phone rang. You answered instantly.
“Hey,” you said, smiling.
“Just saw your interview,” his rough voice came through the line, low and amused. “Guess you had a lot to say about me.”
You bit your lip. “Yeah? What do you think?”
“I think we should meet up and talk about this attraction over dinner,” he said, his tone teasing.
Your cheeks warmed. “Let’s do it.”
A few days later, reporters cornered him after a mission.
“Dynamight! What do you think about Y/N finding you attractive?”
Bakugou smirked, his tone cool and confident. “I think she’s gorgeous herself,” he said. “And I plan on taking her out again.”
the light shot diamonds from his eyes, hungry for life. .
synopsis. when katsuki sees you again, his resolve is strong. and there's only one thing he wants to ask you. #dynamight #whippedsuki #kacchanbakugou #ilytid
content warning. mha anime & manga spoilers, fem reader, blood, death and revival, childhood friends to lovers this is very self indulgent SUE ME. flashbacks? like a memory that never happened while on the brink of death, fluff and angst but happy ending, crying, katsuki is a whipped sensitive boy, mentions of morphine but like the good morphine like for medicinal use guys, lmk if i missed one
A/N. ive been feeling rlly good writing lately, so we're gonna keep this rollin a bit ! i love my katsuki so much, my sweet sweet boy, he has my whole heart, my lovely..(yes i cannot stop thinking about this weeks ep, did this chapter so much justice in all the greatest ways, my goat i weep), pls take care of this for me i kinda love it so much. (╥﹏╥)
“you know, he’s been saying it since he was a boy.”
you stiffen, looking up at the older woman—never in your life had you imagined you’d be here; in a hospital waiting room sitting with katsuki’s parents.
well, only his mother now, his father has excused himself briefly after you’d been allowed to see your boyfriend. despite the doctor's initial refusal, his parents had insisted you were part of the family as well and had every right to see their son.
except katsuki had made quite the…bold statement. in front of his parents no less—he grabbed your wrist the moment he regained enough consciousness to realise you were in the room. ignoring everything else and spitting out the words so quick you’d think someone was holding him at gunpoint.
“marry me.” he said hoarsely.
silence . . . more silence. . .
“katsu—huh?!”
“just—please—lem’me—let me marry you,” katsuki’s voice cracks, unaccustomed to speaking so quickly after waking up from intense surgery. you’d seen the state he was in; bruised, broken, bloody—and from what you’d heard from best jeanist—pronounced dead at one point.
you’d also seen his feats, how he clung to life, to the symbol of his victory and dragged himself back from death through sheer force of will—the power he’d honed since he’d come to show you his quirk the morning after he got it.
back then, you recall thinking his explosions resembled fireworks. pretty, sparkling fireworks you’d watch in awe during new years. you never could’ve imagine how right you would've been so many years later. during the battle, he’d shone brighter than he ever had and been faster than your eyes could follow yet, you never lost sight of him. he wouldn’t let you, not with the way his light had blinded you to anything else, pretty, bright, sparkling fireworks—that was everything katsuki represented to you.
he’d told you to keep your eyes on him, to keep watching him as he grew stronger so as to never lose. and you were seeing it now; so, so clearly.
and here he was, your bright, sparkling light, keeping his eyes on yours despite the doctors pushing him back, insisting he lay back and rest before he tore his stitches open.
“let me marry you—fuck—please...” he said, voice slowly getting drowsier with only a weak mumble of your name when the doctors gave him a dose of anaesthetics.
“we usually wouldn’t do this, but him getting this riled up could cause more harm to his body…” the doctor’s calm voice droned on. yet all you could feel was the burning of your ears, the way your nose clogged. the way your lips trembled and a sob escaped you before you could stop it.
that brings you back to now. mitsuki speaks up again.
“i mean, he always said a lot, blabbermouth that he is,” mitsuki chuckled, eyes downcast but smile pure, at ease. she wipes under her eye “but it was like—with you—i mean, he was always so sure you’d stick to his heels forever…” she laughed. “always asking when you’d be able to come over to play even though you’d only just left.”
your mouth falls open slightly, unable to say a word. mitsuki smiles down at you lovingly either way.
“he said it was because you were a crybaby, that if he wasn’t around you’d be completely lost. but i think he needed you around more than you ever did.”
you’d just managed to calm down, yet you feel the tears start building behind your eyes again. mitsuki remains calm while you desperately tried to get your bearings.
“i—i needed him, too. he-“ you gulp back the knot in your throat “he was like my hero..” you chuckle through your snotty nose. “nobody was cooler than him.”
mitsuki smiles, turning back to the closed door.
“he used to get praise left and right—mostly dumb stuff. but all he could ever think about was how he looked to you.” her trembling warm hand rests over yours on your lap “all he ever sees is you.”
you let out a pitiful whine, then a sob. then another, you’re clinging to the older woman’s hand. squeezing it so tight you worry you’ll hurt her. but she pulls you into her instead.
by the time masaru’s returned, he finds you curled up into his wife arms, and her rubbing your back while you cry.
after the noise, the ringing in his ears and the pain. katsuki recalls the silence.
he felt it after the acceptance. there was a sting for only a brief moment but so harsh it made his eyes snap open. and when he opened them, gone was the cracked dome which reflected the muddy sky. gone was the noise of him desperately trying to catch his breath, only for it to be futile. gone is the pain in his chest and the swelling and burning in his arms—and suddenly, he was looking up at the sun bright and high in the sky.
no clouds in sight, no rain or rubble. just the sun, so harsh and bright it made him squint. he groaned, lifting his arm to shield his eyes—as he thought, no blood or pain but something was strange—his arm was smaller now. his hands missed the callouses they’d developed over the years of honing his quirk to its maximum potential. he stared at his hand in shock.
“wha..” he whispered, voice higher in pitch than he was used to.
“what’re you doing down there ?”
katsuki startles, not because of the unknown voice, but because it’s a voice he knows all too well. the sun is covered now—by you.
you’re looking down at him, eyebrows raised curiously, head tilted to the side “katsuki ? what’s wrong, did you hit your head ?”
it’s you.
you’re younger. about the same age as he is now, and for a reason he forgets immediately he feels his heart pull.
eyes wide and solely focused on you, katsuki mumbles dumbly, “i dunno…”
“you don’t know ?”
“i don’t remember…my head kinda hurts, though..” he mutters, reaching up to scratch his head.
you smile. then you break out into giggles and katsuki wonders why it makes his chest so heavy.
“i bet you fell again like you did last time !”
he shoots up quickly, almost knocking his forehead to yours “did not !” he shouts petulantly, huffing, he sits up, wrapping his arms around his knees.
you giggle again sitting next to him with your knees raised up as well.
“izu’s waiting for us further down, so we should go now.” you explain. katsuki feels like this should annoy him, izuku was always barging in when he was trying to play alone with you and you always let him have his way. but it doesn’t make him mad this time, he just hums. then, silence.
until—
“yn..”
“yeah ?”
“do you..think i’m cool ?”
a brief pause.
you tilt your head “huh ?”
katsuki stiffens, startled by his own words. why did he just say that ? what was wrong with him today ?!
he should take it back—he wants to. you’ve been looking at him weird from the moment he woke up, this was so embarrassing. but something in him doesn’t want to. he swallows back his nerves, clutching his knees tighter.
“y-you heard me…” he grits out. he shoves his nose into the crook of his knees.
silence. a pause. katsuki feels sweat run down his back.
“yeah, of course i do !”
his eyes shoot wide open. he turns to look at your smiling face.
“you’ve always been super cool, katsuki. even without your quirk an’ stuff,” you explain. you meekly start to draw shapes into your knees “c-cuz…even though you’re so much faster than me, you always let me keep up with you. and you always pick me first when we gotta choose teams for dodgeball. and you punched takahashi that one time he called me weird.”
katsuki scoffs at the memory “that guy’s stupid.”
“mhm,” you giggle “...you always get super excited when you and izuku talk about all might. and it makes me laugh sometimes. and when i’m with you, it feels like i can be cool like you..s’kinda like….” you stop short.
surprised by your pause katsuki leans closer to you, eyebrow raised up “kinda like what ?”
you huff into your knees. the heels of your shoes dig into the grass. “s’kinda like you’re my super hero..” you finish quietly.
oh.
ah, he gets it now. this isn’t real at all. none of this is.
you’re not real, and he’s not ten anymore. the nonexistent memory is pulled from deep inside of him—he’s lying somewhere in the sky. bleeding out, he’s dying. this isn’t real.
he remembers now—“take care of the others for me.” he’d asked best jeanist. but something in him aches, it aches so hard he has to dig his knees into his chest with all his might to try and crush it.
he’s dying. and he hadn’t been able to see you again.
he’d told you nothing would happen to him, that he’d make it back to you. and now you were going to hear from somebody else he hadn’t made it. he’d made up his mind in the moment, but the thought of you—of your eyes swimming with tears he doesn’t think someone like you should be shedding for a guy like him.
you deserve better than crying over him. he’d decided to put his life on the line for you and for everyone. but now—
he’ll never see you. ever again.
“katsuki ? what’s wrong ?”
tears had started clouded his vision, and by the time you finished your question, voice trembling in worry all spent on him, tears were running down his cheeks showing no sign of stomping.
he quickly shoves the heel of his palm to his face, sniffling loudly “it’s—i’m fine !” he hiccuped. “it’s n-nothin’..”
you’re fretting over him like you always do. he usually always pushed you away, but now that your voice slowly fades from his ears he’d do anything to hear you scold him about being reckless one last time.
“y-y’know, i—” katsuki chuckled humourlessly, looking down at his knees—he doesn’t know if the tears in his eyes are the cause of his clouded vision or if this was actually all over now.
“—i—i always thought you were the prettiest girl i’d ever seen,” katsuki stuttered through tears. he feels like laughing despite it all, but it's bitter—why was he only able to say this to you know ? why is he only able to tell you all he wants to say when it’s way too late ? he’s not cool at all. he’s nothing but a coward.
“a-and—and, y’know what ? if i could, i’d marry you. swear i would,” he lamented, uselessly wiping his eyes raw “i swear, i swear i would’ve…”
“what are you saying ? i don’t get it..” you mumble stupefied at his admission, voice wobbly.
katsuki chuckled, yeah, he probably isn’t making much sense right now, crying and rambling like this… but he can’t help it.
when he closes his eyes, all he sees is you. and then he remembers—that when he’d closed his eyes for the last time, his last thought was that there was one thing, just one thing he’d do anything to tell you.
but then, katsuki recalled the acceptance, and the silence. and a sudden red, hot flash of pain that jolted him awake. eyes bloodshot, breath ragged. his body burned with each breath he took yet he stood, and he stood tall. he didn’t care who was watching, his idol stood in front of him, he shared a look with izuku and knew now wasn’t the time to lament about things left unsaid—
he clawed his way through and he fought. he didn’t care who was watching, because on the off chance that you were somewhere, praying for him to make it back safely, watching him from afar, he couldn’t risk looking uncool in front of you.
“i meant it, you know.”
it feels like the tenth time he’s saying it, but katsuki doesn’t plan on stopping. he won’t regret it either, even when you giggle. you shake your head in disbelief, your hand resumes its motions, cutting pieces of an apple into little bunny ears.
“ah, so that one time you asked to marry me wasn’t just you rambling while doped up on morphine ?” you snort, eyes staying on the task at hand.
katsuki snorts, watching your movements intently “that one still counts. i’ll say it again if the other six times haven’t been convincing enough.
with a fond sigh, you drop your knife safely onto the plate and leave it on the table near his bed. you bring the little piece you cut to his lips and katsuki opens without much struggle besides a squint of his eyes “could’ve done that m’self,” he chides with pink cheeks.
“i don’t need you to keep saying it, i think i got the message.” you smile. the longer you looked at him, the more your eyes become glassier. katsuki’s seen you cry over him enough for a whole lifetime from this week alone.
despite it all, his eyes bore into yours. “i need to keep sayin’ it. otherwise i’ll chicken out. i won’t do that to you,” he speaks, voice resolute and certain “never again.”
there they are again—the tears. but he doesn’t mind them, he runs a thumb under your eye, catching a stray tear before it falls. it’s useless, more come and fall, but he’ll spend all his life catching them for you. him, nobody else, now and forever. he smiles softly.
“marry me, yn.”
you nod against his cheeks, fresh hot tears running down his wrist. he looks at you, and only you, and he’ll never look away again.
pranking your husband by not giving him his goodbye kiss!! reader x katsuki bakugo<3 (he needs a kiss from you to have a good day hehe) 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡
while your husband katsuki was busy putting on his hero suit for the day, you were occupied with cleaning up the dishes from the breakfast he'd made for the two of you. you're washing and drying the plates with your ipad set up near the counter playing music, humming quietly to the tune under your breath. you feel a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist soon enough before katsuki's mouth places a quick kiss behind your ear
"might be out later than usual today, dunno how long that meeting is scheduled for—but be ready by eight sharp—i'm gonna take you out for dinner tonight." katsuki says, giving your waist one last squeeze before he moves towards the doorway to put on his boots. you let out a hum of confirmation at his words before he pulls away
"okay," you singsong, fighting back a smile as you finish drying the last plate. you see katsuki tugging his gauntlets on and adjusting his mask before he leans against the door frame
"alright babe, i'm about to head out!" he yells from the doorway, standing expectantly with his arms crossed over his broad chest and a cocky grin gracing his annoyingly handsome face. you start walking towards him, but at the last second, turn towards the living room and make a show of collapsing onto the couch with a loud and satisfied sigh
you grab the throw blanket laying idly on one of the cushions and wrap it around your shoulders before pulling out your phone, pointedly ignoring katsuki's aggressively confused blinking
"alright, bye kats! love you," you shout over your shoulder as you begin scrolling through your instagram feed, hiding your smile behind your phone screen.
the thing is, katsuki's terrifying when he's quiet, because he's rarely ever silent. he stands frozen in his spot, blinking slowly with a blank look on his face before he scoffs
"huh?" he grumbles under his breath quietly, watching you ignore him and focus on your phone rather than come kiss him goodbye like you usually did, like you always did, and he's genuinely distraught.
katsuki hovers by the door, tilting his head with a frown when you remain comfortably seated on the couch. normally, you bound right over to him when he's about to leave for the day and give him a kiss, fix his mask, play with the hair resting at the nape of his neck, tell him to stay safe and take care of himself—but today, he's barely even offered a second glance.
you're not mad at him, he knows that much. you'd been just fine this morning when you'd waken up, and you were acting like your usual self at breakfast, too—but now? you don't seem to be upset either, just... occupied? but what was more important than him?
"aren't you forgetting something?" he huffs, hands on his hips and brows furrowed as you look up from your phone with feigned confusion all over your face
"huh? what do you mean?" you question innocently
"you—you're—what are you doing?!" he demands suddenly, stomping over to where you are and tugging off your blanket in one swift movement as you squeal
"kats, i'm cooooold! give it back!" you whine with a laugh, and katsuki's brows pinch together before he quickly disregards his gauntlets on the ground and crawls over to where you are on the couch
"so annoying." he mutters under his breath as he cages you beneath his arms, keeping one arm braced over your head as the other moves to pinch your cheek
"eek! stop that—"
"i'm not going anywhere until you kiss me. tell me good luck. hug me. all that lovey dovey shit." he grumbles, eyes squinting and dead serious as you laugh, finally wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his strong waist
"mmm okay... kats, i love you so very much, and i hope you have a safe and fulfilling day kicking ass!" you chirp, pressing a hard kiss right onto his lips with a dramatic mwah!
"damn right i will. and when i come back, what are you gonna be doing?"
"sitting nice and pretty—all ready for our date." you grin as he huffs, finally smiling down at you as he places an uncharacteristically gentle kiss onto your lips
"that's right. and you should know that i don't give a shit if you're mad as hell at me, i'm not ever leaving this apartment without a kiss from you. and if you pull this shit with me again? i'll blast you—"
"yeah, yeah, all the way to hell—blah, blah, blah! you should get going, mr. dynamight! you're going to be late," you tease, squirming under his grip as katsuki rolls his eyes
"such a brat. you're lucky i love you so damn much." he grunts, pulling himself off of you as he stands to his full height, looking over at you from above with his hands on his hips and a cocked head. you sit up, knees digging into the cushions of the couch as you give him one last kiss, this one more genuine than all the silly little pecks you'd exchanged with him thus far this morning, and his gaze softens a degree at the gesture
"goodbye, kats." you enunciate with a giggle, and katsuki only huffs fondly before pressing one last kiss into your hair as he mutters the words bye, sweetheart.
it is no secret to anyone that your husband (satoru) is unbelievably handsome. dashing, sexy — other words he likes to use to describe himself. and because of this universally known fact, women often will stop him on the street for ridiculous reasons.
like right now.
satoru is leaning against his vehicle, earbuds in, humming to an odd tune as he waits for you outside of your work building. he isn’t even trying to look approachable. but of course — someone always stops him anyway.
“hey…” a woman strolls up to him, tucking her hair behind her ear. satoru’s gaze lazily flickers over, a kind smile playing on his lips — albeit disinterested at the same time.
because he knows what’s about to happen. and he wonders what method she’ll go with. an excuse for coming up to him, or boldly ask for his number straight up?—
“you look like you’re enjoying your music. what’re you listening to?”
ah, of course. a mischievous, toothy grin (almost ominous and cat-like) curls onto satoru’s lips as his face lights up with delight — almost as if he has been waiting for this moment since forever.
“wanna hear?”
the lady blinks, momentarily taken aback by his question before her smile widens, cheeks pink as she mistakes the edge in his voice as flirting.
“sure!”
he plucks out one earbud with deft fingers, leaning off the car door and close enough for her to get a whiff of his pricey cologne before slipping it smoothly into her ear.
it’s barely a second before her smile freezes in place.
the unmistakable sounds of a woman moaning — soft and breathless — fills one ear. the stranger’s eyes widen, releasing a mortified gasp as a flush creeps up her neck from humiliation. she rips the bud out like it burned her.
“w-what the hell?!”
but satoru’s smile only grows more menacing. the poor woman stumbles back slightly while he stands there with the ease of a man who isn’t listening to something so lewd and vile in public.
satoru chuckles, tilts his head, shades lowering on the bridge of his nose as he peeks over the dark lenses — revealing pale white lashes and glowing, dangerous, icy blue in its wake that make the lady tense up with a chill running down her spine.
“pretty, right?”
he taps the bud in his own ear.
“that’s my wife.”
p.s. — the moral of the story is don’t flirt with gojo satoru because he will make it known he’s a taken man in a shameless, scary way that will make you regret coming up to him in the first place.
Synopsis: living in a religious household isn’t all too bad, until your parents find out about your secret job and send you to see the priest.
cw: dub con, religious rule breaking, gags, dacryphilia, ass slapping, rough s, p in v, slight exhibitionism?, water sports, slight choking?
not proof read!! but enjoy ilyyy!
shame, yeah that's what this entire ordeal made you feel. an overwhelming amount of it. you loved your parents, but sometimes they made things a literal hellscape. for god's sake you were an adult now, even if you were still living at home.
living at home had its perks of course. no paying rent, no bills to worry about while you attended college, free food and home cooked meals. alas, where living at home had its privileges, it had it's downsides.
your parents ironclad faith in the church and their religion, something you never really much agreed with since you were in middle school. attending church on wednesdays, saturdays AND sundays.
it was something you'd now desensitized yourself to, and when you began college, they stopped harping on you as much about attending sermons, with your excuse of having copious amounts of homework, they'd released their grip on you a little.
until they found out about your little habit.
it wasn't that bad, at least to you. but when your parents snooped through your phone without permission and found your streaming account on a camgirl website and through your drawers to find several different types of vibrators, dildos, and other types of toys... lets just say they didn't handle it too well.
but how else were you gonna pay for all of your little hobbies if not by posting videos of you getting fucked silly or fucking yourself silly?
your dad flipped his shit, typical of him, but your mother is what put the final nail int the coffin, she called herself helping you, by sending you to see the only person she thought could cleanse or purify you.
The priest, Father Nanami.
so now you sat in his office, in the south wing of the church. legs crossed and back stiffened with anxiety, your eyes cast away towards a wall.
"There's no need to be ashamed, i'm only here to help." his voice came out smooth and low as he sat opposite you behind his desk, the metal frame of his glasses sitting beautifully on the bridge of his nose.
you shifted in your seat, clearly uncomfortable and nervous about this whole thing, your leg bouncing up and down, nerves on fire as you waited for this hellish one hour session to end.
"this is embarrassing." you muttered as your eyes focused on the painting of a rosary on his wall to the right of you, probably something cheap, bought at a thrift store.
"what exactly are you embarrassed about?" he asked as if he didn't already have the entire story, in detail from your parents. his hands were clasped together as they rested atop his desk, his iced out gaze roving over the features of your face, noting your expression.
you scoffed and rolled your eyes at the question, not bothering to make eye contact with him. "you already know." you grumbled under your breath as your cheeks heated up, shame flooding through you.
"mmm.. i do but, i want you to tell me. admitting is the first step". his voice was even and firm, nothing like yours, shaky, unsure, nervous. it sort of agitated you, how calm and collected he was about all of this.
"it's just- why were they even going through my stuff! i wasn't even-"
"stay on track" his voice cut you off, firm, almost demanding, but calm nonetheless. “tell me what you're embarrassed about."
he leaned forward just a bit in his chair, just barely leaning over his desk, peering at you from under the rims of his glasses. "is it the fact they found out? or is it what they found, that's causing your embarrassment?" he asked.
your eyes finally met his, you chewed on the inside of your cheek before darting them away and back to him. "neither" was all you mumbled before your thumb came up to your mouth for you to chew on your nail.
Nanami's eyebrows shot up at that answer, you felt no embarrassment? so maybe it was guilt you were feeling.
"and do you feel guilty about any of it?"
"yes.."
"which part?"
you screwed your eyes shut in embarrassment before sighing deeply and answering.
"them seeing me".
Nanami raised a brow at the admission. sitting back in his chair and pushing his glasses up his nose just a bit, his eyes trailing up and down your figure briefly before looking away and clearing his throat.
"you feel guilty they saw you that way?"
"no."
"then what is it?"
you chewed on your nail, heart racing in your chest as you opened your eyes and moved your hand away to speak.
"i feel guilty that i don't care they saw me that way."
that made him sit up in his seat, his eyes slightly widening before he schooled them back to their normal size and he cleared his throat.
"you.. don't care?" he questioned skeptically.
"no, i like having sex! i like masturbating, why should i feel shame when they went through my things without permission!"
your blatant admission at what you liked made his throat run dry and his cock twitch in his khaki slacks.
he remembered when his father forced him into this position last year for the same reasons your parents were now making you see him weekly.
and truly, kento never grew from his behaviors, if anything he'd gotten worse, but he'd just gotten better at hiding everything.
if you checked his laptop at home and looked into his search history, you'd have found his account from the same website you used. all his viral cam videos of himself rutting into his pillows and cumming, pumping his cock or fucking some girl silly.
"maybe we can help each other out" the words came tumbling out before could think too much or take them back, disrupting your rambling about your parents invasion of privacy.
"huh?"
"i said maybe we can help each other."
"uhm.. how could you help me by having these stupid meetings with me?"
the slyest smirk spread across Nanami's face as he got up from his seat and rounded the desk till he was in front of you, leaning down till his face was right in front of yours.
"don't fret, i'll show you just how i can help you"
and that’s how you ended up here.
your phone propped up against the nameplate on his desk, set to recording.
your hands bound behind your back with the rosary from around nanamis neck. both your clothes discarded all over the office. one hand fisted in the back of your shirt as he tugged you down on to his cock with almost too much force.
your mouth and cunt were matching with the way they were stuffed. your mouth with your panties and your pussy with his fat cock.
his other hand fisted in your hair to tug your head back as he drug his hips up off the base of his chair behind his desk, head thrown back in complete bliss as you made little muffled noises.
“mmnfhgh!”
his head snapped up at your little muffled noise, grip tightening on your shirt as he pulled you down harsher on his cock, the mushroomy tip kissing your spongy cervix on repeat as tears pooled in the corners of your eyes.
“sshhh, you can take it, gotta keep that pretty mouth filled, don’t want anyone to hear us.” he cooed as he worked his hips upward in time with the way he pulled you down by the back of your shirt.
you squeezed around him, sucking him in deeper as you tried fucking him back, a mix of his cum and yours dripping down and around his shaft, from the multiple times you’d both already came.
he hissed and gave your ass a harsh smack, leaving a handprint.
“greedy lil thing, like having your pussy pounded like this huh?”
“fucking your priest in his office? sinful, but you love this don’t you?”
his taunted you with his words, knowing you couldn’t respond, his thrusts becoming harsher— deeper, as your tears spilled over onto your cheeks.
“mnghhhrff!”
“that’s right, cry for me, cry on my cock” he chuckled dryly as the hand in your hair left and wrapped around your throat. pulling you back so your back met his chest, he licked the tears right off your cheek.
“only gonna make me fuck your harder silly girl, so keep those tears flowing for me”
you were so overstimulated, vision blurred by tears, legs like cooked pasta, brain fogged up, you couldn’t even think straight, all you could do was cum, so you did.
your knees buckled, the tips of them pressed together, your stomach tightened, knotting up as fat tears rolled down your cheeks and your cries were muffled.
you just barely were able to lift yourself off his cock as you squirted all over him. his cock, balls, thighs and lower abdomen.
“MMNNNFFF!”
Nanami watched you with bated breath, eyes dark and low as he watched you make a mess all over him, his chair and his floor.
“oh she’s a crier and a squirter?”
“you’re just wet for me all around huh sweetheart?”
you could hear the smirk in his voice as he pulled you back down onto his cock by the back of your shirt.
if you could’ve screamed you would’ve, your eyes nearly crossed and immediately you clenched around him.
“do that for me two more times and then we’re done for the day.”
pro-hero bakugo's clingyness to his wife is so baffling and apparent, people like to say you have a quirk that controlls him into submission.
this, of course is untrue as you are quirkless and couldn't imagine trying to control your husband but it's hard to believe when he bends to your will so damn easy.
"kats, no. i said shower or shove it."
he's back from patrol and honestly smells like he's been rolling around in mud but he can't resist your face.
you're wearing his hoodie and boxers for fucks sake.
"please? just a kiss, i promise i won't touch you." he rarely ever pleads but your serious. he tries to approach you, gear clanking together.
"i will hurt you. shower."
he know's he lost then, your arms crossed, soft face in a pout. "yeah, yeah m' goin."
katsuki is still wet when he's dressed, immediately scooping you up and pressing his firm arms to your body,
"see, wasn't so bad, right?" you giggle.
and katsuki dissagree's. it was agonizing being away from you that long but he doesn't argue with his wife.
instead he nods a "right." and lets you dote on him, he'd been waiting all day. he'll be damned if he stop that now.
omg i’m thinking about bakugou discovering the boob photocard trend. (context here )
like…bakugou not really being entertained by like the kpop-ification of pro heroes. he doesn’t get the concept of his fans having photocards of him and designing fanmade dynamight photocard holders, collecting them and decorating top loader, people carrying them around etc…
it’s not like he hates it, and katsuki wouldn’t deny his fans any fun… he just doesn’t care much.
that is until a certain dynamight fan account takes part in a particular trend. one where pictures of the explosive pro hero’s face are printed out onto pieces of cardboard — nestled perfectly into your lace cut bra.
he happens to come across it whilst scrolling through the dynamight hashtag — looking for updates on his stats but instead coming face to face (chest) with the ultimate display of dedication. your expression is cute, a blurry wink and a soft pout, but the camera’s focus is on the katsuki bakugou photocards peeking out from the scalloped edge of your pretty black bra — the holographic orange stickers you’ve decorated them with matching the sunset shaded silk bow tacked to the underwire.
his face… between your tits. your soft, mouthwateringly perfect tits. the blonde’s heart races, his cheeks flush and something stiff kicks between his legs… because to put it frankly, you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on.
and you’ve got your boobs out for him.
‘adding something to the trend #dynamight’ you’ve captioned the post.
bakugou finds himself bookmarking your tweet — he’ll come back to it later, imagine his own face buried between soft mounds of flesh when he works his cock after hours. for now, he leaves his own comment with a new found appreciation for photocards.
‘you’ve won.’ he simply types out and clicks the lock on his phone — he’ll worry about what the head of PR has to say later.
for now, katsuki will await your adorably excited message going on and on about how you’re his biggest fan whilst he comes up with a plan to see your tits in real life, instead.
nanami kento is a big tease. the week before your wedding, he refused any sexual intimacy, but he was sure to leave lingering touches and kisses he knew made your heart race and your cunt clench. kisses never deepened beyond a slip of tongue, but he made sure to nick and bite at the sensitive places on your neck and body when he was able.
on your wedding day, it was the same. a lovely event, surrounded by family and friends celebrating the union between you and the man you would give your life for. but before you were due down the aisle, kento was in your dressing room, fingers pressed to your bare waist under your satin slip and lips on your neck, whispering sweet nothings and promises for the night in your ear.
after the reception, kento had you in the limo panting and whining, careless of the driver and the lowered partition while his hands caressed and his lips kissed and his voice soothed, while your cunt drooled in the specially selected lingerie for this night. by the time you made it to your room, your desperation was written in the tears clouding your eyes. it was a wonder he was able to rid you of your dress and underclothes, slowly and with care, but he had only taken off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt partially before you jumped on him.
—
“that’s my girl. take what you need.”
kento, your newly wedded husband, sits with his back on the headboard of your honeymoon suite, watching you fondly as you lift yourself up and down his cock, a vision of beauty still clad in your laced wedding stockings and fluttering veil. your hands steady yourself on his shoulders, while your head is thrown back, the air filled with soft sobs of ecstasy and faint calls of his name, so sensitive from the lack of stimulation kento offered you for the past seven days. so pent up from the teasing and whispered promises. your release was approaching fast, the feeling in your lower stomach curling quick after kento’s ministrations through the day.
“kento, kento—please,” you whisper, unable to make your voice any louder due to your inability to breathe through the pleasure. kento’s hand reaches up to cup your cheek while the other stays situated on your hip, guiding your movements but ultimately letting you set your own pace.
“yes, sweetheart?”
the term of endearment makes your face heat as you lean forward to capture his lips in a tender kiss, trying to hide your reaction to a term you’ve been hearing for years before this night.
“don’t hide from me, darling,” kento pleads, bringing your hips down flush against his, taking control as he turns your bounce into a grind, knowing the movement fills you deeper and continuously drags against that spot that makes your head swim and your cunt drool around him. you cry into his mouth, the change in pace making your body tremble, pressing yourself as close to him as possible.
“m’ close kento—s-so c-close, make me cum, please—“
kento huffs out a chuckle at the state of you. his hands leave your waist, sure you would be able to keep up the momentum on your own. one of his hands finds your puffy clit, running soft circles while the other comes to rest on the back of your neck. in return, you cling to kento like he’s your lifeline. your hips stutter in his lap and your eyes roll back, incoherent babbles just barely making it past your lips, just barely inhaling as kento brings you to the edge of your release.
“cum for me, my wife. you deserve it after all i’ve put you through this week.”
kento’s soft whisper has you coming apart around him, crying into his neck while your nails dig into where your hands curl around his back. your mind is hazy with the intensity of being played with and teased with no release for what seemed like forever, and you can hardly keep yourself upright in his lap with the relief. kento grunts, feeling your cunt flutter around his still hard cock.
“sound so pretty when you come for me, beautiful,” kento’s fingers leave your clit with a tap, and he runs his hand over your back, soothing your shudders and whines as you grind out your high over his lap. when you finally catch your breath and your hips still, you look to kento, finding a wicked grin on his face and his dark eyes already on you, filled with lust and a sweltering heat that makes you freeze.
“now that you’ve had your fun, allow me to get my fill, yes?”
you yelp as kento pulls out and flips you around, your stomach now flat against the bed in record time. kento grabs your hips from behind and pulls them up, leaving your upper body on the bed and putting you into a mean arch.
“kento! warn me next ti—ah!”
an echoing slap reverberates around the room as kento’s palm comes in contact with your ass, rubbing soothing circles afterwards like the gentleman he can’t help to be. you hear a rustle of fabric, then feel his bare body drape over yours, holding you down, his lips coming to rest right on your ear while he pulls your hips back, dragging his cock through the mess of your cunt, making your breath hitch.
“do you think you were the only one affected, love?”
kento pushes his cock into your heat in one motion, causing you to gasp and grip the sheets between your fingers. kento groans directly into your ear at how the mess in your cunt makes his cock slide back in with so much ease. his hips still when he reaches the end of you, stretching you out so sinfully around him.
“still so tight after i’ve already fucked you open,” he whispers in your ear, pulling himself out of you until just his tip remains before slamming his cock back in. you lurch forward on the bed at the force of it, a cracked cry of his name leaving your throat. his continued thrusts hold the same weight, banging the headboard against the wall in a rhythm of kento’s own making.
“couldn’t help playing with you, darling,” kentos’s voice is still a hoarse whisper against your ear, despite the agonizing way he bullies his cock deep into you. “always so responsive for me, sweet little noises had me wanting to bend you over the nearest surface.”
his words feed an ache in your stomach, making your cunt squeeze around him tight with arousal like you’re trying to milk him dry. kento can feel himself getting lost in the heat of your body and your cunt, your symphony of moans like a song solely for him. before he knows it, his mouth is running a mile a minute, spilling the filth he’s been keeping to himself for the past week into open air.
“would’ve had you spread open on the alter if i could,” kento then lifts his weight from your collapsed form, pulling you up with him so his front is flush with your back, his thrusts unyielding. kento tugs your veil over his shoulder, pulling your head to rest against him, arching your back and resting his head at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “would’ve had you singing your vows to me while my face was buried in this pretty pussy under your dress.”
kento’s hands dig into your waist, holding you steady as he cock ruts desperately into you and your grip on his wrists is just as bruising. you’re so overwhelmed with pleasure, with love, but you take his cock so well, sucking him in so greedily like you can’t get enough, cunt spilling so filthy around him.
“kento please—so d-deep, ah!”
you jut away from kento at one particularly rough drive of his hips, and he pulls you back to him hard, pressing the tip of his cock to your cervix and holding you there, rutting and making you feel it.
“please don’t run from me, darling,” he murmurs into your neck, bringing one hand up to press against your stomach before his strokes continue, deeper this time. “i’ve been waiting to feel you for so long, you wouldn’t deny me, right?”
you’re practically drooling now, mouth open wide with your noises and your frantic gasps of breath. you feel dizzy almost, incoherent, cunt pulsing with every sink of kento’s cock inside you. you would almost feel bad for your neighbors on the other side of the wall, with the combined sounds of kento’s sinful thrusts and your cries of his name. but the lewd slapping sounds of kento rearranging you from inside spur you on and make heat fill in your stomach, cunt tightening once more with your impending release.
“just got so tight around me,” kento grunts, roughly grabbing your chin to claim your lips in a sloppy kiss, mostly tongue and clashing teeth, but you lean into him anyway, whimpering into his mouth. “so, so good for me, darling,” he almost whines against your lips, thrusts growing desperate and slighting losing rhythm as kento feels his own release in his lower belly. “cum with me, love. let me feel you around my cock.”
kento’s strokes pick up in earnest, and through your trembling, you push your hips back to meet him halfway, voice high in pitch and airy, mind completely gone from the way kento is making you feel.
“just like that, honey,” kento growls, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you directly against his front as he ruts deep into you, dragging against that softness at the top of your cunt, and you scream. “take what’s yours, fuck. m’ all yours.”
a cry of kento’s name leaves you lips and you reach up for a fistful of his hair, grounding yourself as the cord in your stomach snaps, and your cunt spills around him, body practically vibrating as you arch against kento’s chest. your twitching cunt grips kento’s cock just enough to propel him off the cliff with you. he groans deep in his throat, teeth pressed into your neck, biting deep enough to leave a prominent mark as his hips roll, spilling his cum as deep inside you as he can.
kento’s body shakes, riding out his long awaited release and yours with a few more rolls of his hips, a whine leaving your throat at the overstimulation as you lift your hips from kento’s lap to get away, just to be pulled back down.
“m’ sorry, i know, darling, i know,” he chuckles, stilling his hips and bringing his hands to cup your jaw again, pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss this time. “i love you, dear,” he whispers, sweet and eyes filled with love as he stares deep into yours. you bring your hand to cup his where it rests on your face, matching rings making a slight ding as your hands connect.
“i love you, too, kento.”
kento rubs his hands over your lace covered thighs as he kisses you once more, before lifting you from his cock, watching from behind as his cum leaks down your thighs and stains your already messy stockings further. kento’s eyes don’t leave the sight, eyes growing darker and mouth watering. watching kento’s eyes devour your cunt makes you clench, and of course his eyes track the movement like a hawk.
“seems i've made you messy, darling,” he barely manages to say, bringing his fingers to swipe through your combined releases, a gasp leaving you at the sensitivity.
“k-kento, give me a break, just a min—“
“lie on your back for me, love,” kento interrupts, hands coming to your waist, maneuvering you to a new position with your back resting against the disarrayed pillows, legs wide, with kento between them. his face is so close to your cunt you can feel the breath of his next words as he speaks them.
You text Satoru in the middle of his Classical Mechanics class with a picture of your lace white panties and naturally he ditches to fuck you in the bathroom
The Satoru of a year ago wouldn’t even recognize this version of himself. The Satoru of a year ago was the kind of boy who carried a notebook everywhere, who lived and breathed equations, who never understoof why the guys and girls always looked at him. A boy who spent more time tinkering with his telescope and collecting enamel pins of constellations than actually talking to people. The kind of boy who wore his NASA hoodie even in summer, who preferred playing pokemon to drinking in sticky college bars.
That boy would have never imagined himself here—flushed, trembling, about to fuck his out-of-his-league girlfriend in a small campus bathroom stall with his pants around his thighs and glasses slipping down his nose bridge just because she was too horny to wait to get back to his dorm.
“This is—This is a bad idea y/n,” Satoru whispers to you as his hands brace beside yours on the stall wall. His cock throbs against your bare heat, aching, needy, precum beading at the tip despite his protests.
"C'mon Toru, we both want it," you mutter back like this isn't insane, like you didn't text him—ditch your classical mech class, need you rn—accompanied with a sweet little photo of your pussy, hugged by those white lace panties that you know are his favourites, already soaked through. He’d stared at his phone for all of ten seconds before grabbing his bag and practically sprinting out of the room, muttering a half-baked excuse about needing the bathroom.
And, okay, he's not immune. He might like Digimon and buy stickers with nerdy little astrophysics puns for his laptop, but he's not immune to the fact that you're practically bent over, white lace panties shoved to the side under your skirt, pussy waiting for him to slip in. He bites his bottom lip and he knows you can feel the way his cock throbs, precum dirbbling from his tip, drooling down your cunt, needy and wanting despite all the logic dictating this is a bad, bad idea.
Now here he is, heart pounding, cock twitching, dizzy with the scent of you. He still smells like coffee and the faint strawberry of his bodywash. You, on the other hand, smell like sin and that perfume that makes him go feral.
"It'll be fine," you mutter back, exasperated, looking over at him over your shoulder. "We've both been busy with classes. And I miss you<" you add on and he bites his bottom lip, chewing at it because it's true. Both your schedules are full, leaving little time for eachother and even less time for sex. You're pent-up and horny and he's not been spared from the effects college has had on your sex life either.
Still Satoru pushes his glasses up his nose, cheeks pink, eyes darting toward the locked stall door, paranoid. “What if someone comes in?”
“Then we’ll be quiet. It’ll be fine," you repeat emphatically, shooting him a look over your shoulder—the one that turns his bones to jelly. Eyes heavy, lips parted, need written all over your face, telling him to hurry up and fuck you, that you're waiting for his dick. It’s enough to make him forget his name. Enough to make him fold like a house of cards, reaching down to wrap his hand around his cock, guiding it between your thighs. His breath catches as he feels your slick, the way you’re already wet and waiting. He rubs his tip against you, smearing his precum across your folds until you sigh his name softly, and his pulse stutters in his throat.
“Give it to me, Toru,” you breathe, voice low and hungry, like you've been waiting for this as long as he has.
“Oh fuck—” Satoru whimpers at the sight of your cunt slowly taking him, a mesy squelch from all the precum he spilled over your pussy making his ears burn, the drool of your own slick dribbling out the sides. The feeling is better than the sight—tight, hot heat wrapped around his cock. You breathe out, unsteady and a soft little moan tumbles out as he stretches you open on his cock. He bites at his bottom lip as he sinks into you, heart racing and pounding.
"That's it," you coax breathily and Satoru almost whimpers, sliding into you slow until he's bottomed out. "That's my boy. Feel so good inside me," you breathe and Satoru does whimper this time, watching how your pussy stretches around his cock, hugging it snug and tight. He rocks once and you both gasp at the feeling. His hips go flush with your ass, a whine low in his throat at the feeling of you wrapped around him.
His hips jerk forward helplessly, chasing the heat. “Y-you feel—Fuck,” he stammers, glasses slipping down his nose as his breath turns ragged.
He starts to move, slow at first—dragging out, then pressing back in—and the soft, wet sound of it fills the small stall. Every thrust makes his thighs tremble. You moan, fingers curling against the wall, and he grips tighter, trying to steady himself.
“Shit— Toru—” you gasp, and the sound lights him up from the inside.
"Oh fuck," he whines, fingers scrabbling against the stall wall for purchase, fucking into you hardder, chasing the friction and heat dumbly, forgetting where you are for a second. His fingers slip from the wall, and you grab it pressing it under your shirt and he gasps into your nape, fingers squeezing your heavy tits, feeling them sway and bounce with every thrust. He's always had a thing for your tits—heavy, full, spilling into his long fingers as he squeezes and bounces them. His other hand joins, groping at your tits under your shirt, fucking into you, moaning and gasoing into your ear.
"Feels good, doesn't it?" you breathe, and Satoru whimpers, fingers rolling over your nipples, tugging at them desperately until your pussy is clenching harder with a breathy moan escaping from you.
"You like this," you accuse, breathless and panting as he fucks into you, ryhtym growing reckless and needy, the smack of skin against skin filling the small stall. "You like fucking me in public. Like that anybody could hear what you're doing to me."
"I like it— "Satoru whines, fucking into you harder, unable to deny, hips rutting fasting, fingers curled and squeexing the heavy weight of your tits, tugging your lacy bra down under your shirt, tugging at your nipples. "I like it—I like it—" he lets out a broken whine, his voice pitching high as he buries his face against your neck.
He's a secret perv, you know he is. He might blush and put up a shy front of modesty and chastisty but you know he's no better than you, that he's always thinking with his cock. You'd caught him humping into your panties once, lace wrapped around his cock, and he'd flushed pink and caught but it just confirmed what you always knew—Satoru Gojo is a freak beneath those round thin frames and equations.
"I can't—" Satoru gasps into your ear as he rocks faster, cock throbbing, heat tightening low in his gut as he ruts faster, fingers suqeezing your tits, panting against your ear, breath hot.
"Cmon, cum in me Toru," you moan and he whines, high and cracking in your ear as his cock throbs, hips grinding in deeper as his cock throbs and he spills inside you. You gasp at the feeling of him spilling deep inside you, pulses of cum spurting into you messily until it's dribbling out your cunt, and your eyes roll back, cunt clenching tight as you cum on his cock. He feels the pulses of your orgasm, whimpers softly at the feel of you snug and tight around him.
Satoru pants for breath, buried in deep, and when he glances down, he bites his bottom lip and whimpers at the sight of his cum leaking out of you, pussy clenching and fluttering around him weakly, painted in his cum, messy white cum leaking out. His glasses are crooked, fogged up. His fingers are still trembling where they're clutching your heaving tits.
He lets out a soft, shaky noise. “I can’t believe we just did that.”
You laugh, breathy and ragged and he just rests his forehead to your shoulder with his own stupidly fond smile as he catches his breath.
Satoru Gojo, astrophysics major, comic book hoarder, socially awkard genius who who doesn't know how to make conversation when it's not about numbers or stars, turns out to be an insatiable, desperate little freak when the doors are shut
Warnings: 18+ NSFW, unprotected sex, needy satoru, awkward nerd on the outside, absolute freak behind closed doors, begging, truly no thoughts just pussy, creampie, messy, multiple orgasm
A/N: based off this headcannon
“Hngh—Hngh fuck—Oh—“
The sound of skin slapping against skin fills Satoru’s tiny dorm room, his twin bed creaking under the weight of his thrusts as he drags his cock in and out of you, his breath hot and fast against your ear, whining into your ear as you clench around him at a particularly deep thrust.
“Satoru—” your voice comes out strangled, a gasp caught between a moan and a cry. Your fingers claw at his bare shoulders, nails digging into the pale skin, dragging red lines down his back. He shudders at the contact but doesn’t slow down—if anything, it spurs him on. He fucks you harder, faster, hips slamming into yours with a rhythm that feels frantic, desperate. Every deep thrust punches the air out of your lungs, makes your head spin, makes the bed’s headboard slam repeatedly against the wall in time with your cries.
Nobody knows that Satoru Gojo—the boy who can barely look people in the eye, who spends more time with textbooks and stars than people—can fuck like this. The campus genius, the golden boy who gets awkward when someone even looks at him? A fucking machine who can make you see stars and cry out his name? And yet, here he is, chasing the feeling of your cunt clenching around him, driving his cock into you relentlessly, pussy stretched around him as he makes you cry out.
“You feel so good—“ he whimpers, pitched high and whiney, mouth moving to find yours, swallowing your moans, tongue clumsily licking into your mouth, desperate little pants in between messy kisses that steal your breath as he fucks into you. His hand wraps around your thigh, hooking his arm underneath, dragging it up to open you wider and you gasp at the lewd angle, as he fucks into you deeper, harder, his cock dragging against your walls.
“Mmm—Mm that’s it,” Satoru gasps as he rolls his hips, whining even as he holds you open for him, your tits bouncing just from the force of his thrusts as he fucks into you. “So good—It feels so good— You feel so good—“ he whines as he ruts into you.
You can do little else but just take it, gasping and moaning as he rearranges your guts, fucking his cock back into you with thrusts that you can feel in your bones. Your head rolls back into his pillows and his mouth latches onto your throat, sucking and licking needily, whimpering as he rocks into you, other hand grabbing your other thigh, fingers fingers your calves, pressing your legs back so he can fuck into you deeper.
“It feels so good—“ he whines as he drags his tongue up your throat, finding your mouth again, kissing you needy and messy. “Please—Hngh—Please—“ he gasps as he rams into you, springs creaking as he fucks you into the mattress.
“Satoru—“ you can barely manage to gasp his name as the coil tightens in your gut, fingers tugging at his sweaty hair, making him go speed up, skin slapping against skin, tearing lewd cries of his name that pitch high from you as you cum, eyes rolling back as you pussy clamps around his cock. He whines at the feeling, feeling your cunt pulse, cumming around him, his hips stuttering, dragging his cock against your fluttering walls.
“Holy fuck—“ Satoru whimpers at the feeling of you cumming around him. “Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck—“ he whines as he slides in and out of you, your cum slicking his cock, and he thrusts in deeper, feeling his own cock throb, orgasm coming fast and hard just from the feeling of your cunt hugging his cock hard, pulsing around it.
“Fuck—Fuckfuckfuck—“ he whines as he slams into you, tearing a gasp from you as his cock throbs and thick, messy spurts of cum spill into you. Your back arches off the sheets at the feeling, fingers tugging at his hair as Satoru whines, pushing into you deeper, fucking into you as his cock pulses and spurts cum into you, painting your walls, until it’s leaking out of you around his length.
“I can’t—“ Satoru whines, eyes screwed up, fingers fisting his sheets as he rolls back into you, chasing the drag of your walls against his cock even as your cunt spasms around him. “I can’t— I can’t I can’t I can’t—“
He keeps going, keeps fucking into you until he’s emptied himself. You pant for breath under him, chest heaving, all but boneless and melted into the sheets. He’s panting against your throat, open mouthed and hot, lashes fluttering, skin to skin. You give a couple minutes, figure he’ll pull out soon, think he's done. But then you feel him start to rock shallowly, making your body jolt, thighs clenching.
“Satoru—?” you choke out but then his cock is twitching inside of you, swelling up into hardness as he whimpers high into your throat, rolling his hips, dragging his cock against your walls, the messy squelch of his cum filling the room.
“Satoru—Wait what’re you—?” you try choke out but he’s already moving, mouthing at your throat, eyes glassy and hazy. The sound is obscene, wet and lewd and endless. He’s whimpering with every thrust, breath catching as his hands grab your thighs again, pushing them open, holding you in place.
“More—“ he whimpers as he fucks into you through the mess. “More please.”
“Satoru—” you gasp, overwhelmed, body twitching from overstimulation, but he’s lost in it, lost in your cunt and the feeling of it hugging his cock tight.
“Feels so good—“ he whines as he fucks into you, cock dragging against your slick walls as they hug him tight, clenching and squeezing, making him gasp into your mouth, licking into it messily, sucking on your mouth. “So so good. I can’t— Can’t stop—“ he gasps. It’s the only thing he can focus on—the tightness of your cunt, the wet squelch every time he fucks back in, the way your thighs squeeze around his hips when he goes in deep.
“Hngh—Fuck—Fuck—“ he babbles mindlessly as he fucks into you, cock throbbing and already aching for another release, and you can do little else but let your nails scrabble at his back, arching up into him, gasping as he fucks into you, rolling into you, whining into your mouth, panting openly.
“Gonna—Gonna—“ Satoru gasps, hips stuttering as he whines through another orgasm, cock twitching, spurts of cum spilling deep into you. You whimper weakly at the feeling as he finishes inside you, rolling his hips, dragging every spurt out, until he’s milked the last of his spend into you, painted your walls with him, leaking out you in messy filthy dribbles, down your poor pussy stretched around him.
Satoru keeps going, panting against your ear, glasses slipping down his nose, fingers fisting the sheets by your head as he rocks into you, insatiable, needy, desperate even after spilling into you twice.
“Hngh—fuck—fuck—” he babbles, barely coherent, his hips jerking forward in short, messy thrusts. He’s trembling, whole body shaking as he buries himself deep again, cock throbbing, spurting another wave of cum into you. His glasses are crooked, his hair is plastered to his forehead, and his voice is nothing but soft, broken whines against your neck as he rolls his hips into, pumping into you.
He pants against your ear, and your thighs twitch, overstimulated, chest rising and falling, fucked stupid.
“Again?” Satoru whimpers into your ear, panting even as his fingers slide down to your thigh, hooking it around his hip, cock twitching inside you as he rolls into you again. And you just let your overly-sexed, insatiable, feral boyfriend take as much as he wants.
If someone had told you a couple months ago that behind closed doors Satoru Gojo was a insatiable little freak with endless stamina and cock that wouldn’t quit, who didn’t know how to stop cumming the second he got in your pussy, you would’ve stared and laughed. Campus genius, the boy who solves equations without batting an eye, awkward nerd who’s always drowning in oversized hoodies, fucking you stupid? Not knowing how to stop cumming just because he’s got a pussy wrapped around him? A freak? Yeah sure. But he is.
One awkward smile, two 'study mates', and a love story that’s chemically inevitable.
Synopsis: You only stopped at his science fair booth out of pity—but the tall, nervous guy with crooked glasses and a galaxy model has other plans.
Satoru Gojo is brilliant, awkward, and talking a mile a minute about black holes like it’s the most romantic thing in the world. You weren’t looking for a tutor. Or a crush. But he’s got stars in his eyes—and maybe, now, so do you.
Pairing: Nerd!Gojo Satoru x reader
Genre: MDNI, College AU, Fluff, Slow-burn-ish, friends to lovers.
Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff in this one, mutual pining, just two idiots in love and nerdjo being really, really down bad.
Masterlist
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You pull your blanket tighter around your legs and curl into yourself, remote in hand, flipping mindlessly through channels until you land on some over-the-top soap opera.
Onscreen, a man with three wives and a suspicious mustache is faking amnesia to dodge child support, and you find yourself snorting into your cup as you shovel another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth.
You’re halfway through another melodramatic monologue, reveling in each minute of bad TV. Which is also why you almost jump clean out of your skin when the front door swings open with a sharp click.
Your head snaps up, heart kicking hard against your ribs. “What the—?”
The pale figure stands tall and broad in the doorway, white hair sticking up in all directions.
You shift upright instinctively, the blanket sliding off your shoulder. “Satoru?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just steps inside with his hands jammed deep into his pockets, shoulders high and stiff, jaw tight like he’s been clenching it all the way here.
He shuts the door harder than he needs to, kicks his shoes off in a sloppy half-motion, and crosses the room straight to the armchair without sparing you a glance.
You feel your stomach knot a little, a cold wash of worry creeping up your ribs.
Gojo drops into the chair with a graceless thud, head tipping back hard against the cushion, and exhales sharply through his nose.
You shift forward, tucking one knee under yourself. “…Hey. What’s wrong? Something happen?”
He stays like that for a long beat, eyes on the ceiling, lips parted like he’s chewing through words he doesn’t like the taste of. Finally, he speaks up, dragging a hand down his face.
“It was a disaster.”
Your eyebrows draw tight, and that knot in your stomach twists sharper.
“…Disaster how?” you ask, voice softer, fingers curling into the blanket. “She already had a husband kind of disaster? Or… she doesn't like dogs kind of disaster?”
He lets out a short, humorless huff, rubbing his temples.
Then he peeks at you through his fingers, just for a second.
And that look, sheepish and vaguely irritated rather than crushed, loosens the knot in your chest just slightly.
"Neither.”
You exhale, shoulders relaxing as your concern eases. “…Okay. Then what?”
“She was pretty." Gojo drops his hands into his lap, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt, gaze fixed somewhere near his knees. "Funny, even. Everything she was supposed to be.”
You wait, watching the restless way he chews the inside of his cheek.
“And?” you prompt gently.
Gojo's fingers tighten, knuckles flexing faintly, before he finally speaks again.
“And it just… didn’t feel like anything.” he says quietly, almost to himself.
Something uncoils in you at that—not relief exactly, but a faint warmth, a glow you’re quick to smother.
Still, you tilt your head, fighting back the feeling of strange relief. “Not even a little?”
“Nothing,” he repeats flatly, shaking his head. He slumps back in the chair, shoulders sagging now, and lets his hands fall to the armrests.
“It was like kissing a…” he pauses, searching for the words, and then his lips twist in faint distaste. “…like kissing a decorative fruit bowl. Pretty to look at, but weirdly hollow.”
You stare blankly at him, before bursting into laughter despite your attempts to conceal it.
Gojo's head snaps up, a scowl pulling at his mouth even as his ears start to pink. “Don’t laugh!”
“Sorry—” you cover your mouth, even though the corners of it keep curving. “I’m sorry, it’s just… a fruit bowl?”
He groans and drops his head into his hands again, muffling his reply. “You weren’t there, okay? It was bad.”
You drop your hand back into your lap, chuckles trailing off. But there’s still a little weight lingering in your chest, and you let your eyes trace him for a moment longer. The way his shoulders hunch inward a little, the way his fingers keep kneading the hem of his shirt, like he doesn’t know where to put the tension buzzing through him.
You lean back slowly, the faintest crease between your brows. “You scared me, you know.”
His head lifts at that, confused. “…Huh?”
"I thought you were… I don’t know. Heartbroken or something.”
Gojo blinks at you, startled. He slowly leans back in the chair, gaze dropping to the floor. You narrow your eyes at him but say nothing, until he breaks the silence.
“…What if she wasn’t the wrong person?”
Your gaze lifts immediately.
He’s staring down at his hands now, thumbs rubbing over each other absently, as though they might spell out the right words for him.
“What if it’s not about her or the date. Or any of it. What if I…” His throat bobs, breath shivering faintly as he cuts himself off, then starts again. “Because I already…”
He presses his tongue into his cheek like he’s holding back more, shoulders curling forward.
You sit there for a beat, letting the silence settle between you. He doesn’t look at you anymore—just keeps staring at his own hands like they might explain him to himself if he keeps watching long enough.
But you can’t stand to see him like that.
So you shift forward, the blanket pooling at your waist, and gently reach over, laying your hand on his shoulder. You feel the way he stiffens under it at first, just faintly. And then very slowly, his muscles ease.
“It’s okay,” you murmur, soft but certain. “For what it’s worth… none of it’s your fault.”
That makes his head lift a little, but not all the way. His lashes flutter as his eyes find yours. You smile at him, small and kind, your thumb brushing once over the seam of his hoodie where your hand rests.
Gojo tips his head forward, letting his temple fall to your hand like he’s too tired to hold it up himself, rubbing faintly against your palm like some oversized, sulking cat.
You huff out a quiet laugh at the gesture, warm and a little incredulous. “What a man child.”
That earns you a faint, muffled noise from him—not quite a word. His eyes are closed now, his hair tickling your wrist. Your smile softens as you watch him there, folded in on himself but still leaning toward you.
“Hey,” you say after a long second. “You wanna eat ice cream and watch a movie with me?”
His lips twitch faintly against the back of your hand. And though he doesn’t open his eyes yet, he nods. “Yeah."
You squeeze his shoulder gently, then let your hand slide down to his sleeve as you stand and tug the blanket open wider.
“Come on, drama king,” you mutter, already tugging him toward the couch.
He lets you guide him, lets you tuck him in beside you, the blanket drawn over both your legs now. He sinks into the cushions like they’re the first soft thing he’s touched all day, shoulders finally uncoiling next to you.
The screen flickers to life, the soap opera replaced with something equally trashy but comforting all the same.
For a while, he doesn’t even bother to look at it. His eyes flutter open halfway as he glances at you, then back at the screen.
And he doesn’t say a word.
But he feels lighter somehow. Like the world isn’t quite so loud. Like maybe he’s allowed to just exist for a little while, here, next to you, under this cheap fleece blanket that somehow feels warmer than anything else in his life.
You nudge the tub of ice cream toward him under the blanket, your knuckles brushing his knee. He glances down, then up at you.
Gojo hesitates for a second, but then his hand slides out from where it’s been buried in the fleece, long fingers curling around the tub. You press the spoon into his other hand with a quiet grin.
He doesn’t bother grabbing a clean spoon. No, he takes the very same one you were using, his lips closing around it without a shred of hesitation as he shovels a big bite into his mouth.
The TV screen in front of you is throwing soft blues and golds across the room, the speakers crackling with some overly saccharine confession scene. The kind of thing where the guy runs through an airport and shouts, “I’ve loved you all along!” and the girl cries and they kiss to applause.
But Gojo couldn’t be any less interested.
Because for him, watching you watch TV is somehow more captivating.
You’re leaning forward slightly, your cheek resting against your fist, your eyes caught up in the silly drama playing out onscreen. He can see the faint glow of it reflected in your lashes, the way your lips tug just faintly at the corners when the couple kisses.
And he’s staring—too long, too obviously—until your head turns.
His eyes snap up at once, like a deer in headlights. He swallows thickly, but he doesn’t quite manage to stop looking at you.
Your eyebrow lifts faintly, a slow smirk tugging at your mouth. “You like the movie?”
“Yeah,” he says a beat later, holding your gaze. “I like it. A lot.”
You hum, leaning back slightly, your fingers idly smoothing the blanket over your lap. But then you pause, your eyes narrowing just a little as you lean closer.
“There’s…” you gesture vaguely at his face. “Something there.”
He blinks at you. “Where?”
You chuckle softly under your breath as he fumbles at his mouth, missing it entirely.
“No—just…” you mutter, leaning in.
Your hand lifts, thumb brushing against the corner of his lips where a tiny smear of vanilla clings to his skin. He freezes under the touch, his breath hitching slightly as you swipe it away.
And then before you can think, you lick the ice cream off your thumb.
Gojo almost falls clean off the couch at that.
His shoulder jerks against yours, his knee knocking the tub as his arm flails instinctively—and the next thing you know, a cold splat hits your shirt.
You blink down, and a perfect dollop of ice cream sits dead center on your chest.
Gojo’s voice cracks through the soft hum of the TV. “…Sorry.”
You glance at him, half a smile tugging at your mouth despite the damp patch spreading over your shirt. “It’s fine, Satoru,” you say lightly, already pushing yourself up from the couch.
You pluck at the fabric, grimacing as the cold spot sticks to your skin. “Ugh. I should clean this off before it freezes to me.”
He starts to shift like he’s going to help somehow, but you wave him off, already padding toward your bedroom.
But you pause halfway, turning back to him. “Shit—I left my clothes in the dryer.”
Your eyes flick down at him, then to what he’s wearing. “You—uh. Gimme yours.”
“Mine?”
You gesture vaguely to his torso. “The flannel. You don’t need it.”
Gojo stills for just a second, like the words don’t quite compute. Then he looks down at himself—at the soft plaid draped over his T-shirt—and back up at you.
And without a single word, he shrugs it off, balling it in his hands before offering it to you.
“Thanks.” you say, taking it in your hands.
He doesn’t answer, just watches as you pinch the hem of your damp shirt and tug.
Right in front of him.
The fabric peels up over your stomach and higher, revealing the faint lace edge of your bra, peach-colored, delicate against your skin. His mouth goes dry before he even realizes he’s staring.
And yet he doesn’t stop.
The light from the TV flickers over the soft slopes of your ribs, the warm stretch of skin under the shadow of your hair as you toss the ruined shirt aside and slip your arms into his flannel.
Something low and unfamiliar churns deep in his stomach, and he suddenly hates how his heart is hammering loud enough for him to hear.
He forces his eyes away, one hand curling into the blanket beside him so he doesn’t do anything profoundly stupid.
You settle beside him, flipping your attention back to the TV, utterly unbothered.
Gojo, though, can’t quite convince himself to look at you yet.
Not with his pulse thrumming like that. Not with the faint smell of your skin sticking to his flannel now that it’s on you.
So instead he just sits there, staring at the screen, pretending. And telling himself over and over to get a grip.
The credits begin to roll, soft music filling the silence, and you stretch with a quiet groan. The back of your neck aches from being curled up on the couch for so long, and your legs feel half-asleep under the weight of the blanket.
“Well…” you murmur, already rising halfway to your feet. “I should probably head to bed.”
But before you can even plant your hands on the couch to stand, you feel the faintest tug at your sleeve.
Naturally, you glance down.
Gojo’s fingers are curled around the fabric, barely pulling, like even that much is an enormous act of courage for him. His head is ducked slightly, hair falling into his eyes, and he doesn’t look at you right away — just stares at the TV, his thumb rubbing circles into the seam of your sweater.
“…Satoru?” you ask softly, trying to catch his eye.
His fingers tighten just slightly, and when he finally looks up, it’s shy and uncertain, the faintest tinge of pink at the tips of his ears. He doesn’t say it out loud, but you can read it on his face. He's asking you to stay.
Your shoulders loosen with a quiet sigh, and you settle back into the couch, blanket sliding back over your legs.
He lets out a small breath of relief, maybe, and releases your sleeve, folding his hands in his lap like nothing happened.
You rest your chin in your palm, side-eying him with a faint smirk. “…You want to do something?”
His gaze snaps back up to yours, mouth quirking into a little, shy smile, and he nods once.
You laugh under your breath. “Okay… like what? What’s the plan?”
Gojo freezes, clearly having no idea what to say now that you’ve called his bluff. He swallows, gaze flicking away like he’s trying to think fast. “…Something. Anything,”
“How specific,” you tease, sinking further into the cushions. “We could… play cards? Watch another movie? Clean my apartment?”
That earns you the tiniest huff of a laugh, and he shakes his head, more at himself than at you. His fingers fidget nervously in his lap for another long moment before he blurts.
“We could build a… pillow fort?”
You blink.
“Pillow fort?” you repeat, trying not to laugh at how his voice went up at the end like even he isn’t sure if it’s a good idea.
He looks down, shrugging faintly, a self-conscious little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Just… thought it could be… fun.”
You press your lips together, trying to stay serious, but the corners of your mouth betray you. "What are you, five?”
His shoulders sink, and he mumbles, “You don’t have to…”
But you shake your head, reaching for a pillow and tossing it into his lap. “No, no. We’re doing it.”
Gojo startles as the pillow hits him, then catches it clumsily and looks up at you, wide-eyed and stunned like he didn’t actually expect you to say yes.
“Okay,” he breathes, clutching the pillow to his chest.
And after that, it doesn’t take long for the living room to look like a war zone.
Every blanket you own is draped across the couch cushions and dining chairs, the backs of armchairs dragged closer to serve as makeshift walls. A broom handle sticks out awkwardly from the middle of the structure, propping up a sagging corner, and at least half the pillows you’d started with are now just scattered on the floor like casualties of an overzealous architect.
Gojo’s the one doing most of the fiddling. Standing on tiptoe to secure a corner of a sheet to a lamp, muttering under his breath when it slides down again. He’s smiling faintly the whole time, though, even when you catch him crawling on hands and knees to adjust the “doorway.” You can’t help but laugh softly at how serious he looks about it.
And when you both finally crawl inside — ducking under the sagging edge of the blanket — it feels a little like stepping into your own tiny world.
You flop down onto your back with a soft laugh, the carpet cushioned by pillows beneath you. Beside you, Gojo lowers himself carefully, his shoulder brushing yours as he settles. For a moment, you both just lie there, staring up at the faint twinkle of the lights above, catching your breath from all the rearranging and rebuilding.
Then you roll onto your side, propping your head in your hand as you turn toward him.
Gojo hesitates for a second, then mirrors you as he shifts onto his own side, one arm tucked beneath his head, the other draped loosely over his waist. His face is just a few inches from yours now, hair mussed from all his crawling around, his cheek pressed into the pillow.
He doesn’t say anything at first. Just blinks at you with that calm, almost curious look of his, like he’s waiting for you to speak.
So you do.
“…Hey.”
His brow quirks faintly. “Hey yourself.”
You huff a quiet laugh, picking at the hem of his flannel on you. The silence hangs easy as you both just watch each other, chest rising and falling with an almost identical rhythm.
His eyes flick over your face like he’s trying to memorize your features, and you catch yourself noticing the way his fingers keep curling and uncurling where they rest between you.
Eventually, you bite the inside of your cheek, gathering the words before you let them slip out.
“About earlier,” you say, clearing your throat. "I just… wanted to say sorry. For pushing the whole tinder thing on you.”
His brows furrow slightly, but you keep going, fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket between you.
“I shouldn’t have forced it on you. I guess I was being kind of annoying and overbearing, and...” you trail off, shoulders lifting faintly in a helpless shrug. “You know. Me.”
Gojo watches you quietly, his gaze steady on your face. Then, after a beat, his lips quirk in the faintest smile, and he hums, low and gentle, like you didn’t even need to apologize.
“It’s okay,” he says simply. His voice is quiet but certain. “I know you… just wanted me to be happy. That’s all.”
His eyes soften at the edges as he says it, and you can clearly see how much he really means it. You manage a small, crooked smile back at him, feeling your chest unclench just slightly.
“Still,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut for just a second. “I’ll… try to chill next time.”
He breathes a quiet laugh at that. But then his gaze dips, just for a second, to your lips. So quick you almost miss it.
Your breath hitches slightly, a nervous heat prickling the back of your neck, and you let out a shaky little laugh to fill the silence.
“What?”
Gojo just shakes his head faintly, the corner of his mouth curling into the smallest, shyest smirk.
“Just… thinking about how bad I was at that kiss last night.”
Your cheeks flare instantly. Though you’re not sure if it’s more at the memory of his clumsy first attempt or the uncharacteristically bold way he admits it now.
You sputter out something—half protest, half laugh—but he only shuts his eyes again, settling deeper into his pillow with a small sigh that almost sounds content.
And as you lie there, heart stubbornly beating a little too fast, you can’t help but think that the kiss wasn’t bad at all.
synopsis: Principal Yaga assigns you and Gojo Satoru a mission: investigate a cursed inn—as a married couple.
He’s delighted. You’re horrified,but with couple-only train cabins, one bed, and a honeymoon suite with a private onsen, there’s no room to keep your distance literally. Gojo teases. You resist. The tension builds. Until you decide to play his game and he realizes he was never ready for you to make the first move. So what happens when he finally gets a taste of his own medicine?
Pairings: g.satoru!×f.reader!
Words: 2.9k
warnings: fake marriage,mutual pining, slow-burn, heavy sexual tension,suggestive content, lingering touches,emotionally charged intimacy, light flirtation-turned-serious,Gojo Satoru down bad, unresolved tension,undercover couple dynamic, one bed trope, private onsen scene, soft domestic vibes, “we’re married, no?” energy.
“Married?!”
The word jumps out of your mouth before you can stop it,sharper than intended, too loud in the otherwise quiet room.
You blink once, then again, unsure if you misheard,or if reality has just decided to mess with you today.
Yaga doesn’t even flinch.
“You’ll be going undercover as a couple. A married one, yes.”
You whip your head toward him.
“Excuse me?!"
Across from you, Gojo Satoru shifts in his seat, casually slinging one long arm over the backrest of his chair. He doesn't flinch. Doesn't blink.
He smiles.
Not his usual cocky grin. No,this one’s subtle. Crooked.
The kind that looks like he’s already imagined this exact scenario a dozen times and is thoroughly enjoying it.
Principal Yaga, unfazed, sets a folder on the desk and folds his hands.
“There’s been a steady spike in cursed energy around a private inn in the mountains,” Yaga says, completely unfazed. “It’s quiet, remote, and completely cut off from Jujutsu surveillance. We’ve confirmed multiple low-level disappearances tied to curse activity. Possibly something nesting. You’re to investigate.”
You open your mouth, close it again.
“But what does that have to do with--marriage?!”
Yaga flips a page in the mission file.
“The inn accepts couples and honeymoon only"
Silence.
You stare at him.
Then, slowly, your gaze shifts
To the man sitting across from you, entirely too relaxed.
Satoru Gojo looks like he’s just been handed the key to paradise.
One leg crossed, chin balanced in his hand, sunglasses lowered just enough to reveal the glint in his eyes.
“I mean…” he says, voice smooth as ever,
“It’s about time, don’t you think?”
You glare at him.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Absolutely.” His grin grows. “This is the best day of my life.”
“It’s a cursed inn.”
“And a romantic getaway.Two birds, one bed.”
You ignore the heat creeping up your neck.
“Can’t I go with someone else? where's Nanami?”
“On a mission in Okinawa,” Yaga replies.
"Maki?"
"injured"
"Anyone else?!"
Yaga exhales, tone flat.
“You and Gojo are the only two available with the cursed energy capacity to manage long-range detection, combat, and concealment. Statistically, you have the highest compatibility. You’re the best choice.
He pauses for a bit then says,
"and frankly, “Out of everyone, you two have the most… natural chemistry. It won’t be hard to sell the illusion."
Gojo lets out a quiet, pleased hum like Yaga just announced your engagement.
You exhale sharply.
“So my only option is him?”
Gojo lifts one hand to his chest, mock-offended.
“Him has feelings, you know.”
“Stuff them into your infinity.”
He chuckles--low, and far too pleased with himself.
“So, honeymoon suite? Or do we request the one with the heart-shaped tub?”
Yaga cuts in before you can hurl the mission file at his head.
“You leave at sunrise tomorrow. Train tickets are booked. Report back within 72 hours or earlier.
You stare down at the folder in your hands.
Your cursed energy practically vibrates with frustration.
Gojo stands, stretching his arms with a hum, like he’s already picturing the trip.
“We should work on our backstory,” he muses, sidling up beside you. “Do we call each other babe,or,oh wait, sugarplum? Cupcake? Mrs. Gojo?”
You shove past him without a word.
But he doesn’t stop smiling.
_
The next morning comes too fast.
You barely sleep. You’re still scowling as you drag your bag down the platform, half hoping the train derails before he arrives.
No such luck.
“Oh good, they got us the window seat.”
Gojo’s voice is too chirpy for 6:42 AM.
He drops into the aisle seat beside you, stretching his long legs out with a pleased sigh, like he’s boarding a first-class honeymoon cruise.
“Don’t talk to me,” you mutter.
“Rude. Married less than a day and already ignoring me in public.”
You turn away, staring out the window with a deep inhale and deeper regret.
The train hums to life, soft vibrations shivering beneath the floor. People around you are already murmuring excitedly about mountain air, hot springs, romantic getaways.
Gojo leans in, just enough for you to feel his voice ghost against your ear.
“This is pretty realistic so far, don’t you think? The whole spouse vibe.”
You don’t even flinch. You just keep your eyes forward.
“I will divorce you mid-mission.”
He chuckles,quiet, amused.
Doesn’t press further.
The ride is long.
You scroll through the case file again just to keep yourself from staring at him.
The train hums beneath you, steady and rhythmic, and the quiet murmur of other couples in the car seeps into the background-laughing softly, hands brushing, heads tucked together.
You refuse to play into it.
You fold your arms tightly and focus out the window.
But it’s impossible not to notice,
Gojo’s leg is stretched out beside yours, long and warm and stupidly close.
The side of his thigh bumps yours with every shift of the train, and he doesn’t move away. Doesn’t even pretend to give you space.
Your knees knock once.
Then again.
Then… they just stay like that.
And his arm, draped casually across the back of the seat-
It’s just barely grazing your shoulders, the fabric of his sleeve brushing the back of your neck each time he breathes deeper, leans just a little closer.
You try not to lean into it.
But your body,traitorous and tired,starts relaxing anyway,like it’s used to his presence,like it knows his warmth,like this has happened before.
You shift away an inch.
He shifts closer without even thinking.
Not intentionally. Not obviously.But it’s there.
His scent clings to his hoodie there's warmth and something just distinctly him.
And no matter how many pages you flip in the file, you’re aware of every breath he takes beside you.
The heat at the edge of your ear.
The slow, subtle way your body drifts closer anyway.
You hate how natural it feels.You hate how you don’t hate it.
He’s quiet for a while. Eventually, you glance over and find him leaned back, head tilted, hair a soft mess and mouth slightly parted.
Asleep.
You scoff under your breath and go back to reading,until, somewhere between half a page and one blink too long…
Your head tilts.
And rests on his shoulder.
You don’t notice when it happens.
Only that it feels… warm.
Solid. Like your body gave up before your brain did.
And you certainly don’t notice the way he shifts slightly,barely there,so your cheek fits better against him.
Or the way his lips twitch.
_
The train gives a sudden jolt, you're awakened from the movement.
Your eyes flutter open slowly, confused, heavy with sleep,until you register warmth beneath your cheek.
Soft cotton. A steady rise and fall.
A shoulder.His shoulder.
You jerk upright a little too fast, heart lurching in your chest.
Your bag nearly tips off your lap.
Gojo turns to you, his voice still low and rough with sleep,
or maybe amusement.
“Morning, sunshine.”
You blink at him, dazed.
“Did I-?”
“You did.”
He stretches like a cat, obnoxiously casual.
“Whole nap. Right here. So cute.”
You press your fingers to your temple, mortified.
“How long?”
“Thirty-five minutes.”
He taps his phone. “You even sighed in your sleep. Pretty sure you said my name.”
You gape.
“You're lying.”
He leans in, voice pitched just for you--
“Sure I am,sweets”
You grab your bag and storm off the second the train doors open, not looking back.
But you feel him behind you.
All smug.
Still warm.
And worse,you can still feel the shape of his shoulder against your cheek.
_
After a long walk through the quiet mountain path,cobblestone streets, warm golden light, and distant wind chimes,and ofcourse, gojo pestering you to let him carry you, you finally reach the inn.
It’s quaint, charming, and just barely not tacky.
The wooden sign above the door reads:
“Love’s Retreat — Couples Only.”
You exhale.
“Seriously?”
“Don’t be shy,” Gojo grins beside you, bumping your shoulder. “Our love deserves the best.”
“I will push you into the nearest koi pond.”
You’re just about to step inside when the paper screen slides open, and an elderly woman steps out onto the porch. Her silver hair is tied neatly, her yukata a soft blush, and her entire face lights up the second she sees you.
“Ahh! You must be the newlyweds!” she beams. “Mr. and Mrs. Gojo!”
Your brain short circuits.
Gojo, of course, doesn’t miss a beat.
“That’s us,” he says, warm and easy, placing a steady hand on the small of your back.
But this time,it lingers.
Just a second too long.
His fingers spread slightly, thumb brushing softly against the fabric of your top in a motion so natural, so practiced, it feels like he’s done it before.
You tense, but you don’t move.
Her eyes sparkle.
“What a stunning couple! So in sync. You just radiate love.”
Your face warms instantly.
You'd have corrected her if it wasn't for the mission, Gojo on the other hand doesn't miss a beat.
“We hear that a lot,” he says, glancing down at you. “She gets all flustered when people notice.”
His gaze lingers, like he’s watching your reaction too closely.
“She’s shy.”
Your jaw clenches.
“So shy,” you mutter, without meeting his eyes.
He smirks.
The old woman beckons you both toward the reception desk, where a delicate wooden charm dangles from a heart-shaped key.
“We’ve prepared the honeymoon suite especially for you,candles, rose petals, and the most breathtaking view of the mountain onsen.”
Gojo hums, pleased.
He leans in as you pass her, voice brushing low and soft against your ear.
“Mrs. Gojo has a really nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
You don’t answer.But your steps falter.
Just slightly.
And his hand doesn’t leave your back.
You step on his foot a second later, just for balance.
Or that’s what you tell yourself.
He doesn’t flinch,just laughs softly behind you.
Like he knows something’s shifting.
Maybe,because it is.
_
The staff from the inn leads the way into your room,
The room is soft and warm when you step inside,golden light spilling through rice paper, the faint scent of hinoki and rose petals in the air.
Your eyes land on the futon first.
You freeze in the doorway.
One futon.
Laid out dead center. Covered in soft white sheets and a gentle scatter of pink petals like the universe is mocking you. One bed. Two people.
You sigh.
“There’s only one.”
“How romantic,” Gojo says, sauntering in behind you. “Should we use it now or after the onsen?”
“You’re sleeping on the couch.”
“I don’t see a couch.”
You gesture to a floor cushion in the corner.
“Improvise.”
He places a hand on his chest like you’ve broken his heart.
“You’re really gonna make your husband sleep on the floor? On our honeymoon?”
“You can line it with your ego. That should cushion the fall.”
He laughs, easy and bright, throwing himself back onto the futon like he belongs there. Limbs everywhere. Shirt riding up again. Stupidly perfect.
“You’ll miss me when I’m gone. When you’re cold and lonely in that big empty bed.”
“I’ll manage.”
“You’ll cave.”
e says it with that lilt,that confidence, like he knows you always eventually do.
But this time?
Something in you coils.
He doesn’t know that you’ve already decided you won’t make him sleep on the floor.
He doesn’t know that you’ve already caved.
And worst of all,he thinks he’s still winning.
You set your towel down, tight-lipped. You're about to walk away when he shifts on the bed, rolling onto his side. Head propped on his hand, bare forearm flexed, blindfold still slung loose around his neck.
“Unless…”
His voice dips, teasing,
“You just want me close tonight, huh? That’s why you’re making a fuss. You want me to beg.”
You look at him.
And in that moment-something snaps.
Not visibly. Not dramatically.
Just… an internal click.
You’ve had enough.
Of his mouth. Of his touches. Of him looking at you like he owns the upper hand.
He wants to play? Oh you'll play.
He stretches back, smirking at the ceiling.
“I’ll be in the onsen. Don’t keep me waiting too long, wifey.”
He says it like a joke.
Like he doesn’t expect anything.
And that’s his mistake.
_
The onsen is dimly lit, steam curling around the rocks, moonlight pooling silver in the water.
Gojo’s already in.
He’s leaned back against the smooth stone wall, arms out along the edge, hair wet and slicked back, collarbones gleaming, eyes closed in total smug satisfaction.
Until the door slides open behind him.
He doesn’t look.
“Changed your mind?” he calls over his shoulder. “Couldn’t resist me, huh?”
“Care to join me, wifey?” he drawls lazily, not even opening his eyes.
He doesn’t think you will.
He never expects you to take it that far.
But you do.
Silently, you untie the towel around your body, letting it slip down with a soft thump against the wood.
You don’t answer.
The sound of it hitting the floor is quiet.
But not quiet enough to miss.
His head snaps toward the sound,and when he sees you, standing at the edge of the steam, bathed in warm light and nothing else-
And when he finally turns and sees you...
It knocks the breath from his lungs.
You’re stepping into the water slowly, bare skin glowing in the light, steam kissing every inch of you like it’s lucky to touch you. Your body is all soft curves and smooth lines, thighs glistening, collarbones gleaming, hair pinned messily up so the heat traces down the nape of your neck.
And your eyes. Calm. Eyes slightly lidded.
The moment he sees you, he stills.
Completely.
You don’t stop.
You wade toward him, bare and composed, eyes locked on his like you’ve been planning this. And maybe you have,maybe somewhere between his shoulder brushing yours on the train and his smug grin on the bed, you decided,
You’re going to break him.
You reach him with a soft splash of water, skin glowing in the golden light, lips barely parted.
His hands twitch against the ledge.
“Y-You…” His voice is low. Shaky. “You actually came in.”
You hum softly, like you hadn’t noticed the wreckage in his expression.
“You invited me, didn’t you?”
Your voice is honey.
“It’d be rude not to.”
You place your hands on his shoulders,hot skin against his, your fingers smoothing over damp muscles.
He tenses instantly beneath you.
But he doesn’t stop you.
He couldn’t, even if he tried.
You lower yourself gently onto his lap, slow enough to feel his breath hitch. Your thighs spread, your knees bracing against the stone ledge behind him, your bare skin sliding over his.
And then you settle.
Chest pressed to chest.
Your cheek brushing his.
Your lips a whisper from his own.
You feel his heartbeat hammer beneath you.
You feel every inch of him,tense, aching, desperate.
“You’ve been teasing me all day, Satoru,” you murmur, breath soft against his jaw. “You thought I’d stay quiet forever?”
His hands finally rise,hesitant at first, then desperate, grabbing at your hips, pulling you closer like he might die if there was even an inch of space between you.
But it’s enough to make him groan, low and wrecked.
His head falls back as your mouth brushes up the side of his neck, not kissing,just there, hovering, letting your breath tickle along his damp skin.
“You’ve had your fun, haven’t you?” you whisper.
“It’s my turn now.”
Your arms wrap slowly around his shoulders.
Your chest presses flush against his.
Water sloshes softly as you adjust,your thighs now firm around his waist, and your lips brushing his, just enough to taste the heat of him.
He’s breathing ragged now.
His hands are everywhere,your back, your waist, sliding over your thighs like he doesn’t know what to touch first.
“Fuck- baby just one—”
And then-
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK-
Sharp. Sudden.
“Room service! Fresh towels, Mr. and Mrs. Gojo!”
You go completely still.
Satoru? Flinches.
The tension snaps instantly, like a curse seal unraveling beneath his ribs.
You pull back just enough to look at him.
And he looks ruined.
Flushed. Panting. Needing.
You laugh,soft and sweet and far too pleased with yourself.
“Oops.”
He stares at you like you’ve just burned a hole through his soul.
You climb off him, slow and graceful, every brush of your skin against his a punishment.
You step out of the onsen, glancing over your shoulder, water dripping down the line of your back.
Satoru doesn’t move.
He Can’t.
“Also, Satoru,” you say, wrapping the towel back around your waist.
You turn fully to face him, water running down your neck, eyes soft but unreadable.
“We can share the bed tonight.”
You pause,let the silence hang.
Then you smile.
“We’re married, no?”
You say with a wink.
Yeah,His soul leaves his body.
note: this actually took me more than five hours and I've thought of this for so long, I actually really like this,let me know what you guys think and if this deserves a part two...yk🤭
amandla
turnnoffyourmind
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