satoru is a man, a boy — been one his whole life and knows how they think — how they desire and hunger. and usually the first thing they often do when checking out a girl is they’ll likely stare at her face first, lingering on her features and deciding if she’s worth admiring more before their sights drop lower to her breasts and then down from there. unfortunately, this applies to his lovely wife as well. satoru thinks they must have a death wish. you don’t notice, but he does — how they try and see if you’re worth more of their time and if they deem you so, their eyes will stray from your jawline to your neck and then to your chest. to your waist, your hips, then the curve of your ass and your legs — straight to the kitten heels you wear beautifully. but one thing he takes into account is the way they ignore the very obvious shiny rock on your finger for men so keen on eyeing his wife in her entirety. it has satoru thinking, maybe it’s best if you wear it around your neck on a chain instead so it’ll be the first thing they see — something that screams that they can look however hard they want before he rips out their eyes, but they’ll never have a chance no matter how much they try bc you already belong to him
in public (around gojo) the most you’ll get is a hand on the small of your back when you walk through a crowd. but in private…. phewww my boy is a stage 5 clinger. your alarm goes off in the morning and he’s hitting snooze and pulling you close before your eyes even open. sitting on the couch watching your show? he’s pulling your legs to rest over his knees with a big hand resting on your thighs. cooking just became 10 times more difficult because you can barely move. he’s hugging you from behind with his chin resting on your shoulder while you try to waddle around the kitchen with him clinging to your hips. and if you gotta use the bathroom? well… i hope your not pee shy
Okay. Breathe, Satoru. You can do this. It's just a sleepover. Just your girlfriend. Just the person you're absolutely, irrevocably obsessed with. Who you're trying really, really hard not to scare off.
Standing in your apartment, hands shoved deep in his pockets to keep from touching everything. You’re flitting around, casual, relaxed, while he’s trying to memorize the shape of your furniture, the smell of your space, the way you hum when you walk into the kitchen.
Satoru's baby-blues locking onto the bathroom door. “I’ll, uh... shower first, if that’s okay?” like it’s the most neutral, chill request ever. It’s not. He’s sweating. His ears are pink. You nod like it’s no big deal - of course it’s no big deal - but to him? It’s a very big deal.
He gently closes the bathroom door behind him. Worries if he makes too much of a sound, he will be banned from your fine establishment. Your things are everywhere. Shampoo bottles, conditioner, your razor, a little candle half-burned on the sink, your loofah hanging from the shower knob, the loofah. He stares at it for too long.
Are we at the loofah-sharing stage? Satoru wonders, frozen in place. It’s pink. Fluffy. It looks soft, and it’s yours, and he’s fighting every stupid urge in his body. “Don’t be weird,” muttering aloud, as if he can command himself into normalcy. Still, his fingers twitch. He holds it. Briefly. Gently. Just for a second. Just to say he did.
Then comes the body wash. He squirts out the tiniest amount and rubs it between his hands like it’s precious perfume. The scent hits him and he nearly slides down the wall. You smell like this. You smell like this all the time. How is he supposed to survive? Because now he smells like you.
Pressing his face into the steam and pretends it’s your neck. He’s sick. Maybe a little pathetic. He knows it. But he’s also just so in love. What can a guy do?
When he steps out, face flushed and hair damp, he feels like a teenage boy at his crush’s house for the first time - which, in his mind, he kinda is. You’re waiting for him in pajamas, makeup wiped off, looking soft and sleepy and so perfectly you. He thinks he might pass out.
And then… brushing teeth together. Should be simple. Should be normal. But nothing is normal around you. He’s beside you at the sink, trying to play it cool while your shoulder brushes his. You hum to yourself while brushing, glancing at him through the mirror, and he nearly foams at the mouth. Or maybe that’s the toothpaste. He’s not sure.
Then he sees it.
A little blob of foam at the corner of your lips.
Something happens to him. Something dark and unspeakable. He wants to kiss it away. He wants to lick it off your mouth like a psychopath. He stares. Blinks. Shakes his head like a wet dog. Absolutely not. No. Stop it.
What’s wrong with you, scolding himself. She’s just brushing her teeth. Like a person. A very pretty, perfect person.
He spits. Rinses. Avoids eye contact. Looks at the drain. Looks at your spit down the drain. Another weird thought. One that must be suppressed.
And then it’s time. Bedtime. Final boss.
Your bed is small. Cozy. Absolutely infested with plushies. He pretends to be annoyed but he secretly loves them. Even if they are plotting to kick him off the edge of the mattress. He climbs in carefully, unsure which plush is your favorite. Unsure what you'd do if he accidentally knocked one little guy off the floor. The blanket smells like your laundry. Like home. Like the future he wants with you.
You’re already under the covers, blinking at him sleepily, smile soft and content. Wearing his shirt and not much else. The fabric rides up your thighs and he has to look away before his brain fully melts. He deserves a prize for not making a move. Deciding to lay on his back, stiff, hands folded like he’s in a coffin. He doesn’t touch you. Not even a pinky. Be good, chanting to himself. Be good. You like her. You love her. You’re not a perv, you’re not a perv.
You shift closer.
A leg brushes his. A sigh escapes your lips. Your hand settles gently on his stomach like it belongs there.
He almost cries, something between a half whimper and a wheeze leaves his throat.
Slowly, carefully, he slides his arm around your waist. You don’t flinch. Don’t pull away. You lean into him.
He swears he hears wedding bells.
You fall asleep just like that, face nestled against his shoulder, breath even and slow. And he lies there, heart racing, brain fried, blinking up at the ceiling, Satoru would be getting no sleep tonight.
His thoughts are a mess: She’s so pretty. Is she really mine? What if I kissed her forehead? No, too soon. Maybe not. God, her skin is soft. I should move in. Tomorrow. Today. Right now. No, bad. Calm down. Be cool. Be a good boyfriend. Don’t get a boner. You’re cuddling. It’s fine. Just breathe. You’re okay. This is okay. Everything is okay.
He wants to. Touch you, that is. Just your waist. Just a hand on your back. Just to pull you closer and feel your heartbeat against his chest. But he doesn’t. He stays perfectly still. He doesn’t want to push anything. You haven’t done that yet, and he’d rather die than make you uncomfortable.
Except nothing’s okay. Because he’s so in love it physically hurts. Because you’re sleeping peacefully and trusting him with this little moment, and all he wants is to stay like this forever.
How are you sleeping so peacefully while he’s over here thinking about nothing but how perfect yoh are?
from pregnancy freak to postpartum freak — satoru finds himself in a tough spot while your body is recovering from giving birth to his child. he tries to be patient but motherhood looks so beautiful on you… and unfortunately, after you’re ready to have him again, there seems to be another little issue — one that likes to cry and disrupt the moment satoru has been longing for
MDNI, established relationship, f!reader (she/her), pregnancy and postpartum, you have a beautiful baby daughter, mentions of breastfeeding and satoru being really really weird about it, mentions of male masturbation, somno if you squint really hard (just to be safe), pet names (baby, beautiful, sweetheart), nothing too explicit going on here tbf, but there’s a sweet little hint of a potential breeding sesh at the end, not proofread, wc: 1.8k+
your husband (gojo satoru) and you have always had a marvelous sex life, one that would naturally induce a sense of envy in anyone who came to know of it, accidentally or not — the walls were thin, but sometimes it was the mouth of your husband that was too big.
but in all honesty, there has never been a day in which you didn’t desire each other carnally, even after so many years.
you thought, maybe, this might change after he knocked you up with a baby — you had read a handful of articles on the topic and how some men become more distant during that sensitive timeframe — but as it turns out, you could not have been more wrong. either those magazines sucked or your husband was some sort of mutation. maybe, it was both.
your pregnancy could be, in fact, easily considered the peak of your sex life — that round belly of yours really did a number on him, as well as on you. well, with you it was the hormonal changes your body was going through that made you so borderline sexually insatiable, and the mood to bounce on him would strike you more often than ever. at some point, your sex drive went off the roof — you’d ask him to fuck you multiple times a day and satoru couldn’t be more fortunate — he’d drop everything and oblige in an instant, like that was all he had been waiting for, which was not so far from the truth. it was safe to say that you enabled the freak in him, and he was grateful.
“thank god… i don’t know how else i could survive those 9 months with you glowing like this, becoming more and more beautiful with each passing day”, he’d say to you every time you pressed and rubbed your ass against his cock in the middle of the night, not so innocently waking him up because you had a craving.
you had a lot of sex, but he was always careful with your aches and pains, no quirky positions until the baby was born — your physique didn’t allow it as the pregnancy progressed anyway. but the passion was always there, undeniably so, growing along with you.
but things changed after you went into labor and your daughter was born. the perfect little angel, his and his baby’s baby. satoru has never been happier.
to be honest, he didn’t think about sex at all in the beginning. he was on cloud nine, overjoyed. every second of his day was spent exploring this new light in his life and taking care of the both of you.
after you got discharged from the hospital, he took it upon himself to look after the house and deal with the chores — he handled the cooking, he washed the dishes, cleaned, did the laundry and everything else that needed to be done — while you were healing and navigating through motherhood. he helped you nurse your daughter, there wasn’t a single night where he didn’t wake up along with you whenever the baby needed feeding or randomly started crying.
but soon enough, after he adapted to this new pace, his sex drive started showing signs of its return. it came back strong — in fact, stronger than ever, and once again it was none other than you to blame for it.
…because, being a mother looked so good on you.
you have been his wife for years. but now, you are the mother of his child, and that is a title that somehow makes you his even more than ever. it is so permanent. because, even if you leave him one day — which you never would since he would simply never allow it — being the mother of his child will always tie you to him, he will always have a place in your life. that’s it, you just made it impossible for yourself to run away from him. like it or not, you will be his eternally and irrevocably.
he liked watching you be a mother and couldn’t help but get bricked up each time you held your daughter close to your chest, revealing your breast and holding it to her mouth in order to feed her.
was this normal? to get this hard? now of all times? — he didn’t know, and honestly, he didn’t bother finding out. because, when was he ever normal about you to begin with?
all he wanted to do in those moments was pin you down and fuck himself into you. you could see it in his eyes and in his bulge that he was trying to readjust.
“don’t try anything funny in front of the baby”
“i would never — i am simply watching and engraving this scene into my mind, for later”
‘for later’ obviously meant when he was jerking off.
the doctor said “no sexual intercourse for six weeks”
your body needed time to heal after giving birth, and that was only natural. and it was okay.
but it didn’t mean it wasn’t arduous for him. he had to watch you day and night without being able to touch you in ways he wanted to.
and now it’s been two months. two whole months without him laying a finger on you. his urges were back with full force, but yours? not really.
sure, you cuddled plenty while the baby was sleeping, which made it even harder for him. but you never got sexually intimate after you gave birth. he was well aware that you needed more time, that your body was still not ready, that you were exhausted physically and mentally because, once again, you were going through all these changes — because of him.
he understood that. but still, he missed you so much.
he’d jerk off whenever he got the chance, more than once a day, in fact. religiously so in the shower, it was a must — or else he would find it more difficult to manage himself around you.
sometimes he’d watch you breastfeed the baby and secretly sneak into the bathroom midway through it to rub one out, because if he didn’t — he’d bust right then and there. but can you blame him? you looked so maternal, so ungodly and unapologetically beautiful. the way you hissed whenever the baby sucked too hard on your nipple made him wish it was him dragging those sounds out of you…
fuck. he was becoming a freak again.
there were nights when he would wake up, as hard as a rock, and watch you sleep while fisting himself in the spot next to you in bed. he would be careful not to wake you when pushing the cleavage of your gown down, just enough to take your breasts out. he’d peck you softly on the nipples and that would inevitably and always lead to him uncontrollably unloading himself inside his palm. sometimes he would make a mess of the bedsheets, other times — of your nightgown.
“shit— if simply touching your skin does this to me, then i don’t want to think what will happen to me the second i slide it in”, he’d curse under his nose while washing off in the bathroom. “fuck. i miss you, baby”, he’d brush a hand over his face. “look what you made of me…”, and he would get hard all over again, just because for a split second he thought of being inside you.
luckily, you soon started dropping subtle hints of desiring him — initiating longer morning kisses, biting your lower lip and giving him the look whenever he walked out of the shower, saying his name in that same sweet voice with an undertone of fake innocence you would use in the past every time you wanted him to do things to you, rubbing his chest as you cuddled in bed or on the couch, sometimes your hand would slide a bit lower down his abdomen… but, that was it.
satoru never saw past the pearly gates, because his sweet angel of a baby would always start crying in the most inappropriate of times, as if on purpose.
“you go — i don’t want to face my daughter with a boner”, he’d whine, and you’d chuckle.
he loved his daughter more than anything, but he was genuinely bummed out and he had to do something about it.
one afternoon, after you fed the baby and left her in the care of your husband to go and take a shower, satoru put his daughter in the crib and leaned over with a serious expression of a parent about to lecture their misbehaving kid.
“listen, little miss, because we have a problem”
the baby chuckles in response.
“…and apparently, you know it”, satoru snorts. “but listen here, i know you love mama and you want her all to yourself. but what about papa?”, he pouts. “papa loves her too and wants her all to himself, at least once a day, but you’re not giving him a chance here. it’s not like i am asking for an entire day, just stay put for 15 minutes — 15 minutes is all i am asking for. deal?”
his daughter lets out another sweet chuckle.
“i’ll take that as a yes”, he caresses her cheek before leaving the room with the baby monitor in hand to join you in the shower.
finally. it was happening.
he stripped out of his clothes and walked into the bathroom, placing the baby monitor on the sink countertop before stepping into the shower cabin, letting the hot stream wash down his body as he reached for you.
“hello, beautiful”
“oh—“, you jolt. “you’re here? but what about the ba—"
“shh—“, he puts a finger on your lips, his free hand snaking around your waist to pull you close. “don’t worry, she’s fine. if something happens, we’ll know it from the baby monitor — so just relax”
you smile against his fingertip and softly peck it before sucking it in between your lips. his cock, already hard and squished between your naked bodies, throbs with a powerful twitch. a low growl rolls out of his mouth.
“god… i’ve missed you so much”, his hips involuntarily push against you, a desperate attempt to seek more friction by humping himself on your stomach. with how starved he was for you, he could probably finish just from this. but he wanted to take it slow and savor every second.
“it’s been so long, isn’t it?”
he nods. “i thought i was going to die”
you laugh. “you’re exaggerating”
“i am not… i never thought our tiny little angel could be such a huge devilish cockblock”
“you shouldn’t speak like that about our kid”, you snort.
“but it’s true. she’s a sly one, and obviously she’s obsessed with you”, he pouts.
“i wonder who she took it from…”
“she’s going to cause me a lot of trouble, isn’t she? but maybe, if we gave her a friend, she wouldn’t feel as lonely. maybe then, we’d get to have more alone time — like this. what do you think?”
“she’s too young for a pet, satoru. you know that”
he laughs. “i didn’t mean a pet, sweetheart. but we can get that too at some point”
tw: death, 18+ only: sukuna is very protective over his little wife.
“Woah, she’s hot!”
That was the first comment. SUKUNA knew then he wanted to kill this man.
“Shit, look at her.” The vulgar stranger whistled, his lustful eyes trailing the curves of your body. “I hope I can get five minutes alone with her in the bathroom.”
Sukuna swallowed a sip of his dark liquor.
He and this stranger were the only two individuals at the gathering sitting on the couches instead of mingling with the others. It was the perfect spot for him to keep an eye on you, his sweet little wife, but him alone. This man? Who dared to join Sukuna on the couch and pour himself a shot of whiskey?
He was going to die tonight. Sukuna was certain of it.
Sukuna turned to face one of the bodyguards standing beside the couch — not that Sukuna needed any protection. Silently, he gestured in your direction, and the bodyguard immediately understood Sukuna’s wordless command.
The stranger watched the interaction take place. He watched the guard approach you and guide you over to the sitting area, and he smiled wildly.
“You’re bringing her to me? You’re a good man,” he said.
Sukuna took another sip of his dark liquor.
When you arrived, a kind smile on your face, Sukuna put his glass down on a nearby table and patted his lap twice.
Happily, you took your seat, and his large hand rubbed your hip.
Oh, the man was stunned. Angry.
“Hey, I called dibs on that bitch first,” he spat.
Sukuna watched the corners of your lips fall as the man continued on, on, and on. During his ramble, Sukuna whispered in your ear, “Close your eyes and cover your ears, girl.”
You did as you were told, though it did little to muffle the sound of the gunshot that came seconds later.
The party guests were silent for a moment, but after observing you in Sukuna’s lap, a gun in his hand, and an unfamiliar dead body bleeding out on the couch, they were quick to return to their conversations.
After all, Sukuna owned this building. This party was his. And this wasn’t the first time he had to murder someone on his kindhearted wife’s behalf.
“Hey,” Sukuna, who was aggressive with every other soul except for you, spoke softly. “I’ll cheer you up when we get home, pretty girl.”
With him, that could have meant watching reruns of your favorite show with you, or him sloppily licking at your clit until you came repeatedly.
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