[xqce]

bestfriend!gojo gets hard while sparring with you. mdni ⟢

THUD.

satoru’s back slams against the mat.

your knee digs into the floor beside his ribs, one hand pressing his wrist flat above his head while the other traps his shoulder to the floor. your weight settles over his chest, keeping him completely immobilized.

for someone dubbed the strongest sorcerer alive, he’s been surprisingly easy to pin down this entire sparring session.

“come on satoru—focus!” you snap, breath slightly uneven from the exertion. this is the third time in the last thirty minutes you’ve taken him down.

gojo lifts his free hand in mock surrender, chest heaving up and down as he breathes out, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—I’m just… not really in it today, I guess.”

“yeah, no shit.”

but the truth is, satoru is focused. painfully focused.

just… not on the sparring.

because his problem—his entire goddamn problem—is what you decided to wear today.

a compression shirt clings to your frame, damp with sweat from the match. and even worse, your mini athletic skirt shows way too much of your thigh for his dick to possibly stay down. and he has to pretend not to notice how it tends to ride higher up your thighs every time you shift your balance.

to top it off, right now you have him pinned down under you as you’re straddling his chest. your hair has fallen loose from its rubber band, messy strands sticking to your temples as you glare down at him, completely unaware of the X-rated thoughts currently unfolding inside his brain.

satoru swears he can distinctly feel every single nerve ending where your weight presses into him. your knee. your thigh. your palm pinning his wrists down.

god help him.

he tries to briefly adjust his pants, praying to any deity that’ll possibly listen to him right now that you wouldn’t notice how bricked he is. you’d never let him hear the end of it if you’d found out—but even worse, you’d potentially find out how he really thinks about you.

normally, he isn’t the type to shamelessly get turned on by a girl just because of what she’s wearing. but the fact that it’s you changes everything.

you—the girl he’s been quietly and hopelessly in love with since he was a hormonal teenager.

you—the one person who’s stood beside him through everything. high school missions. late-night training. the mess of the jujutsu world.

his best friend.

which means, logically speaking, this situation is absolute torture. because you don’t see or feel anything that he is. you’re too focused on the match, on winning, on proving you can take down the strongest sorcerer alive.

meanwhile, satoru’s calculating how much longer he’s allowed to let you straddle him before you get suspicious and figure out how big of a perv he really is.

“are you even trying?” you finally quiz, snapping him out of his lustful reverie

“what?—of course I am!”

“bullshit.” your grip tightens slightly on his wrist. he bites back a grin. “you’re going easy on me.”

“I’m not—”

“where’s that energy you usually have when you’re fighting curses?” you interrupt. “or are you just too weak to keep up with me now?”

his lips curl upward, slow and dangerous. god, he loves when you get competitive. the fire kindling in your eyes that only a good competition could bring out. right now, you’re trying to bait him. and it’s working.

“all right,” he exhales, rolling his neck against the mat to work out the kinks. “fine. let’s run it back.”

you release his wrist and push off his chest, stepping back to give him space. you scrutinize his clearly exhausted form. how the hell did the idiot manage to tire himself out so easily with this lacklustre performance?

satoru sits up slowly, brushing stray dust from his uniform like he hasn’t just had his ass handed to him for the past half hour.

“I’m not pulling any punches this time,” he announces cockily, flexing his fingers. “so don’t count on another easy KO.”

“oh don’t threaten me with a good time.”

your stance lowers. the training yard is quiet except for the wind moving through the trees and the occasional hum of a bird. you move first. a fast step forward, aiming a strike toward his shoulder.

satoru blocks it easily this time, catching your wrist mid-swing. his other hand hooks around your waist to redirect your momentum.

you twist sharply, trying to flip the hold, but suddenly the ground disappears beneath you. the world tilts as you lose your balance, and before you can react

THUD.

this time, your back meets the mat. hard. your breath leaves your lungs in a startled rush. and this time, satoru is the one above you.

his knee slides between yours to keep you pinned, one hand pressing your wrist beside your head, the other braced on the mat near your shoulder.

neither of you dare to move for a long second, a bead of sweat slides down the side of his neck, falling directly onto your forehead. your chests are practically a hair away, rising and falling in synch.

satoru stares down at you, face tinged pink, and murmurs:

“you’re surprisingly easy to beat for someone who was talking so much shit a minute ago.”

“you’re such an asshole,” you mutter.

“mm,” he hums, leaning just a little closer. “and yet you keep training with me.”

your legs shift slightly under his hold, testing the strength of the pin. he tightens his grip instantly, making you let out a little squeak.

and now he’s smiling.

“say, you wouldn’t mind it if i just…”

he acts instead of vocalizes his idea, his palm lays flat on your sternum, then slowly inches downwards, turning over when he reaches your navel.

an involuntary shiver overtakes your body. but along with the sensation of his warm fingers slowly dragging down your body, you feel something else.

something poking at your pelvis. something warm.

oh?

“are you—?”

“yes.”

he doesn’t even bother to shift, unabashedly rocking his hard-on against your hips, which elicits a sharp whine out of you.

he grins like he’s struck gold, continuing his ministrations while his fingers move lower until they reach your skirt, hooking onto the fabric and yanking them downwards.

now your bare, plush thighs are on full display for him—though clearly the lights were too bright. and something tells you his sudden moment of boldness has completely left his body the second he freezes. blood draining out of his face almost as fast as his prior-confidence.

“fuck. i’m so sorry.. i should’ve like—asked or somethi—”

you roll your eyes and grab his palm, placing it back onto your thigh, “already tapping out?” you tease “don’t tell me you’re too weak to even finish what you started.”

he sighs in relief, “don’t get cocky. you know that turns me on.”

a firm pressing of his fingers to your panties cuts off any response you would’ve had, a gasp leaving you instead. your body betrays you, subconsciously arching up into his fingers.

the familiar cheeky grin finds its way back onto his face as he redoubles his efforts, circling your clit through your panties. your head tips back in pure ecstasy, soft sounds leaving your mouth in continuous waves. the noises spur on his motivation. he wants to make you feel good, more than anything. even though he’s so fucking hard it hurts, your pleasure comes first, always.

“y’gonna cum through your panties? hmm?” he goads

you’re too overwhelmed to even speak, instead resorting to moaning intelligibly, something almost sounding like please. i need more.

“that’s alright, baby. i’ll take good care of you, don’t you worry.”

—

a/n: coming back after one of the WORST weeks of my entire life with some satoru slop👅

tags ; @s0ngofthebaddest @tartartagliaboo @kissysatoru @akumatizedmuffin @softtashoney @purityswan @fairygardenprincess @satoruslvut @loowyinsixeyes @luvleyliaxx @nokyia @arrozyfrijoles23 @lady-of-blossoms @gojofucker7 @skin2bone111 @lovelylovecin3monn : @postresfresitas @softtashoney @dreamydaredevil @vanillasatoru @loowyinsixeyes @cherrys-wrld @bride0fchucky @lemonjuicie

refer to this post to be added ^^

[stardustsatoru]

.ೃ࿔*:･ Riding Satoru Gojo for the first time! | porn w no plot aka straight up smut, 18+ minors do not engage/interact!

Satoru can't believe you can take his entire cock!

Like, down to the hilt. He's grown so used to being too big for the women he sleeps with that he knows to expect it.

But then you come along, straddling his lap and sinking down, down, down onto his thick length until your ass rests flush against his thighs, whimpering at the overwhelming fullness once you reach the base. As your walls flutter around him, he genuinely considers proposing on the spot.

Satoru doesn't know where to keep his eyes; on how your tight cunt stretches so desperately around him, and the creamy ring already forming at the base of his cock?

Or maybe on your round tits, watching them bounce up and down as you make up the courage to slowly ride him, hips lifting and lowering cautiously.

His favorite sight though, without a doubt, is that pretty face of yours contorted in pleasure; eyes rolled back and teeth biting down hard on your bottom lip in an unsuccessful attempt to contain your outright pornographic whines as you pick up your pace, bouncing on him harder and faster.

He watches intently with his large hands grabbing firmly onto your thighs, your ass, your waist. Anywhere he can touch you. His head leans into your ear, close enough that you can hear his whispered praise. "Jus' like that, baby. Fuck yeah."

And when your movements stall as you clench around him, head thrown back while you ride out the high of your first orgasm, he doesn't waste a moment before picking up where you left off, hips bucking as he thrusts his cock into you instead.

With him in control, his tip reaches even further inside of you, thumping your g-spot with every stroke and making you scream his name. He doesn't hold back either, not now that he knows you can take it. His hands grab your ass, fingers indenting flesh as he guides your hips all the way up before slamming them back down in time with his primal thrusts.

And he watches in awe—mouth agape and staring reverently through half-lidded baby blue eyes as he feels his own release building, and wills his body to hold on a bit longer so as to savor every second spent watching you ride him.

When your dainty hand instinctively flies to your neglected, needy clit, Satoru grabs your wrist, pinning it to his chest while his other hand takes over. He rubs slow, precise circles, the cadence at odds with the feverish pace of his hips thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy.

When he can't hold out any longer, he finishes with his head buried in the crook of your neck, groaning your name into your skin as his cock twitches deep inside of you, firing off thick white ropes of cum. You're right there with him, clenching impossibly tight around him while your body shudders and your nails press crescents into his pale skin.

But one look at you, completely fucked out yet still gazing hungrily at him through fluttering lashes, mischief written all over your face—one look's all it takes for him to imagine you sprawled out under him, on your knees for him, bent over every surface in his lofty house.

Before he can hold himself back, Satoru's kissing you again, white lashes fluttering with excitement when your hands thread through his hair and you kiss him back with just as much zeal before pulling away to ask, "c'mere baby, wanna see if your throat can take all of me too?"

.ೃ࿔*:･

a/n: continued here!

[purrtoru]

to satoru personal space does not exist ∘ ∘ ∘ (⸝⸝╸-╺⸝⸝)

it’s ironic, really.

for someone known as the strongest— untouchable, infinite space between him and everything else— satoru just cannot keep his hands off you.

at all.

you’re sitting on the couch? his arm is already around your shoulders. he’ll grab a handful of boob while he’s at it, not even in a sexual manner, he simply treats it like a fidget toy.

walking somewhere? fingers laced with yours like it’s a life-or-death requirement. he’s pulling you away from anyone walking too closely, which ends up with your entire arm in his grasp.

standing perfectly still? his hand finds its way into your pocket. does he have his own? sure. does he care? absolutely not.

trying to cook? he’s behind you, chin resting on your head, fully convinced he’s helping while absolutely not helping. occasionally, he’ll have his hand directly on yours.

“toru,” you say, attempting to stir something without elbowing him, “you are literally making this harder.”

“i’m helping,” he corrects, tightening his hold just a little. “just making sure you don’t accidentally burn yourself.”

it gets worse in public.

for a man who used to keep the entire world at a distance, he now treats you like a built-in accessory. hand on your waist, fingers brushing yours, casually leaning on you like you’re the only solid thing in existence.

at one point, you stop walking entirely.

he takes three more steps before the invisible leash snaps him back, looking back at you like a puppy waiting for his owner.

“hey— why’d you stop?”

you cross your arms. “can you go five minutes without touching me?”

he stares at you. actually stares.

like you’ve just asked him to breathe underwater.

“…why would i do that?”

“because normal people have boundaries.”

“you don’t like it?” he pouts, very seriously. “what’s so wrong with me showing affection?”

you have to stifle a laugh.

he takes advantage immediately— hands on your cheeks, squishing your face a little. “see? you like it just as much as i do.”

“you’re impossible.”

“and yet,” he leans in, forehead bumping yours, smug and soft all at once, “you’re always within arm’s reach.”

which is true. you don’t move away, you never do.

which, (un)fortunately, only encourages him more.

[xqce]

bestfriend!gojo’s been hit by an aphrodisiac curse! mdni ⟢

"so," you finally break the silence that’s settled. "on a scale of one to ten, how much do you regret sending ijichi home early?"

"eleven." satoru grits out, and even his voice sounds different. he's still wearing his blindfold, but you can tangibly feel his gaze on you through the thin fabric.

the curse had been weak. pathetic, really—some grade three spirit that you could've mopped in your sleep. but when it realized it was outmatched, it had done what all cornered things do: it lashed out. pink mist had exploded from its body before satoru could finish it off, coating him in what you now know was a last-ditch aphrodisiac curse.

that was seven minutes ago.

you've never seen satoru gojo sweat before. you didn't even think he was capable of it, honestly. but there's a bead of perspiration trailing down his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his uniform, and you're trying very very hard not to stare.

"we should call shoko," you suggest.

"no."

"no?"

"she'll never let me live it down." he laughs, but it sounds strained. "can you imagine? me? taken down by some horny curse? I'd never fuckin’ hear the end of it."

"as opposed to me, who’ll be totally normal and definitely not not bring a this up at every available opportunity for the rest of your life."

he grumbles something under his breath along the lines of the fuck are you enjoying this for?

"I'm really not." you lie. you're enjoying it a little teensy bit—there's something deeply satisfying about seeing mr. infinity actually affected by something for once, "but I am calling shoko."

you're halfway through unlocking your phone when he moves. you don't see him cross the distance—he's too fast for that, of course—but suddenly he's there, his hand wrapped around your wrist.

"don't," he bites out.

up close, you can see the flush across his cheekbones, you can feel the heat radiating off him. his fingers against your wrist feel like brands, and you're suddenly acutely aware that you're alone in an abandoned warehouse with a man intoxicated beyond recognition with lust.

"satoru," you say carefully. "you're not thinking straight."

"I'm thinking very straight, actually. unprecedentedly straight—" he tilts his head, “—here's the thing about aphrodisiac curses; they don't make you want someone you're not already attracted to. they just… amplify your desires."

your heart lurches in your chest. "that's not—you don't—"

"I do," he says simply. "have for a while now. and unless I'm completely misreading the situation, you feel the same way."

“…maybe, but does that really matter right now?”

his grip on your wrist tightens fractionally. "well, then we have a problem."

"because you're cursed."

"because I'm cursed," he agrees. "and I need you to tell me if this is okay. because in about thirty seconds, I'm either going to kiss you or I'm going to have to go deal with this situation myself in a bathroom somewhere, and I really, really don't want it to be option two."

you should say no—you should absolutely say no! this is satoru gojo, your partner, your best friend, and he's under the influence of a curse. this is a terrible idea!

"if I say yes," you hear yourself saying instead, "are you going to regret it when this wears off?"

"sweetheart, I'm going to regret my decision either way." he steps closer, "might as well do something I want if I’m fucked regardless."

"that's really unfair, you know. using a curse as an excuse to confess."

"I'm a very unfair person." his thumb traces a circle on the inside of your wrist, "is that a yes?"

"... fine," you breathe. “it’s a yes.”

his blindfold is off before you can blink. you've seen his eyes before, of course—it’s literally impossible not to when you work together—but you've never seen them like this. dark with want, tinged slightly pink from the effects of the curse.

"thank fucking god," he mutters, and then he's kissing you.

he’s not gentle. the curse won't let him be gentle. his mouth is hot and demanding against yours, one hand cupping the back of your head while the other grips the dip of your waist like a vice. you gasp against his lips and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, licking into your mouth as he's trying to memorize the taste of you.

he kisses like he fights; unfair.

"gojo," you gasp when he moves to your neck, teeth scraping against your pulse point.

"satoru," he corrects against your skin. "if I'm about to fuck you against a wall, you should at least use my first name."

"you’re such a cocky little—" you start, but then his hand slides under your shirt and your brain fries.

"am I wrong though?" his fingers trace patterns on your stomach, moving higher. "say the word and I'll stop. I'll walk away right now."

you grab his collar and pull him back to your mouth. "don't you dare."

he grins against your lips. "that's my girl."

the praise does something to you. something that makes you arch into him, makes you bold enough to slide your hands under his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. he shrugs out of it impatiently, never breaking the kiss, and then his hands are back on you, pulling your shirt over your head.

"you’re so beautiful," he murmurs, the curse might be making him desperate, but there's something underlying in his eyes that’s completely untouched by its effects.

you get his shirt open and run your hands over his chest, feeling the muscles flex under your touch. he's all lean strength, and you want to map every inch of him.

"wall or floor?" he asks, voice rough.

"what?"

"I'm giving you a choice while I still can." his hands are working on your pants now, fingers deft despite the tremor in them. "wall or floor? because in about ten seconds I'm going to be inside you either way."

the crude words send heat pooling in your belly. "cocky little shit," you repeat, but you're stepping out of your pants as you say it.

"that's not an answer."

"floor," you decide. "I want to see you."

something flashes in his eyes, affection mixed with the lust. "what a damn good answer."

he's got you on the ground in a heartbeat, his jacket spread out beneath you because—even cursed and desperate—he's still thoughtful enough to care about concrete burn. his body shrouds yours, and you wrap your legs around his waist to pull him closer.

"protection?" he asks, and you could kiss him for remembering.

"pill," you gasp.

"and I’m clean. tested last month." his fingers slide between your legs and you both groan. "fuck, you're so wet."

"whose fault is that?"

"mine. all mine, baby." he grins smugly, even as his hand shakes slightly. the curse is really affecting him now—you can see the tension in his traps, the way he's holding himself back. "need you to tell me one more time. tell me this is okay."

you cup his face in your hands, making sure he's looking at you. "satoru. I want this. I want you. curse or no curse, I want you."

the last fibre of his control snaps.

he kisses you hard as he pushes inside, swallowing your gasp. it's a lot—he's a lot—and for a moment you can't breathe, can't think, can't even do anything but feel his dick splitting you.

"okay?" he grits out, holding perfectly still despite the tremors running through him.

"move," you demand. "satoru, please move."

he does.

it's overwhelming, the way he fills you, the way he knows exactly how to angle his hips to make you see stars. the curse might be driving him, but there's skill here too, attention to your reactions. when you moan, he does it again. when you gasp his name, he fucks into you at the hilt, silently praying for you to do mutter it again.

"so good," he's muttering against your neck. "so perfect. been wanting this for so long."

you can't form words anymore, can only hold onto him as he moves. your nails dig into his back and he hisses, hips stuttering.

"do that again," he groans.

you do, raking your nails down his spine, and he responds by hitching your leg higher, thrusting into you in a way that makes you cry out.

"there?" he asks, and does it again. "yeah, there. I can feel you getting close."

"satoru—"

"I know, baby. I know." one hand slides between your bodies, finding the spot on your clit that makes you arch off the ground. "come for me. wanna feel it."

it's the combination of his fingers and his voice and the way he's looking at you that pushes you over the edge. you come with his name on your lips, and the feeling of you clenching around him drags him right along with you.

for a moment, you just breathe together, tangled up in each other on the floor of an abandoned warehouse.

“holy shit” you gasp eventually

he laughs, the sound muffled against your shoulder. "your post-orgasm commentary needs work."

"excuse me, I don’t hear you saying anything profound."

"I was too busy having a religious experience." he props himself up on his elbows to look at you, and his eyes are clearer now. the carnal want is still there, but more controlled. "the curse is fading."

"and?" you try to keep your voice light, but you can't quite hide the uncertainty. "regrets?"

"only that it took a curse to make me admit how badly i want you." he kisses you again, softer and sweeter this time. "i meant what I said. all of it. the curse just made it impossible to keep my mouth shut."

"good," you say, pulling him back down. "because I'm not letting you take it back."

"wouldn't dream of it." he grins, "though we should probably get dressed before someone comes looking for us."

"probably," you agree, not moving.

"or," he says thoughtfully, the blue of his irises flashing pink momentarily, "we could stay here for a few more minutes. make sure the curse is really gone. thoroughly test it."

you laugh. "that's the worst excuse I've ever heard."

"is it working?"

you pull him into another kiss. "yeah. it's working."

inspired by @baobei-bu ‘s gorgeous pink mist artwork found here! shoutout to my loves @dreamydaredevil and @lynf1n1ty this one’s for u🫶

tags: @missohwhatsherface @haerinvd @yxo7 @suguphile @satorusdollie @sugubbu @egoiost @moonlit-lilith @iluvgetosuguru1 @yoonsucks @stellarixe @sweethearticism @newpersonsameoldmistakez @thewrldx @mimuju @aryasasas @chromatic-evil @magicalpeenpoo @lollipopryomen @astr0star123 @ppnutz @anonymous123sm @planetchoso @ophirei @storuhrts @b-bitter @sxpernova @sugu-jo @satorus-princess @mikaartst @blu-goingdark @quwuluv @ahtikil @maggieyuckiee @wayneyapper @corpse-x @whispers-of-aurora @tchmiya @clvskett @catgvrl @tojiscreampie @louvbomb @chromatic-evil @nanalalovely @rorysera @myechoera @caithyy @palanggaaa @secretsofchance @meowgicallollz @brookessa @jjukjus

[madamechrissy]

Your husband Satoru slams a hand to muffle your cries as he lifts you up and bends you right over the damn drying machine, running right along with the washer loud enough it quiets the filthy sound of your messy cunt on his fingers. He shoves aside your pajama shorts you've been cleaning in all day, moaning when he gets to rub his tip on it, pearly white cum sticking to your clit.

"Satoru, right n-now?" You hiss out the words, he chuckles in your ear and bends over you, clicking the lock shut for good measure, the two of you hiding from your two kids as he actively plans for another like the freaky little shit he is.

"Saw you bending over putting those pans away? Fuck, thought how good your hips would look in my hands," he moans and grips one, sinking his cock inside easily with how soaked you are, but it's a tight fit. "Oh fuck..."

"Can't keep quiet if y-you..." he slams his hand again on your mouth, shoving his nine inches all the way inside, tip drooling on your cervix. You whine out against his palm, eyes rolling back in your skull, the sounds of Bluey filtering in. "mmph!"

"They're busy, it's fine..." He fucks into you faster, whimpering quietly and pounding your pussy - he's not gonna last long with how needy and sensitive he is. "I wanna put another inside you, hah-"

You think to yourself he's insane, but when he starts whispering that filth in your ear you're about to shatter, every glide of his cock in your quivering walls ruining you.

"Mnh, you want it huh? Me pumping you full, mm?-" he bites down on your neck to muffle another whine, pressing you harder on the dryer as your legs just dangle - he's so damn tall it's the perfect height to bend you over. He's wrapping his arm around, hand gripping a tit and squishing. "I wanna see these full of milk - wanna suck it from them again... mm it's so sweet..."

A circle of his thumb and another pump inside has you falling apart, gushing down his length, he pulls his hand off your mouth to kiss you.

"Drooling on my cock and my mouth?" He taunts, the man who had just been giving your kids rides on his back now had damn near black eyes and a feral grin, shoving in deep and holding you there, watching your eyes damn near go cross, your tongue all little and pink hanging out. "Fuck you love my cum, don't you? Want me to breed you, baby?"

"Please," you know damn well you shouldn't have another yet, but - "Breed me, please."

Your whisper ends him - pumping you full and gasping out into your mouth, coating your walls white with his hot ropes, spurts catching your cute cervix that's already swollen from his mean tip. "Oh fuck... mmm, want four more kids... fuck..."

"I'll tie my tubes after three," he glares and you giggle, breathless. "One more!"

"Fuck that I'll untie them," you're gasping when he eases out, shoving his fingers deep to plug that cum up, before he hears your kids arguing and curses. "Four more."

"One more," He grins as he slips his fingers in your mouth, your cheeks hollowing, moaning at his taste. "Mmm, two then."

Satoru grins, fixing your clothes and then throwing your hair back into that ponytail. "Sure, sweetheart."

****

I'm ovulating STILL and god help everyone this week lmao More hubby satoru here

[kaisersbae]

satoru annoying his wife in the kitchen ୨ৎ

the kitchen smells like garlic, butter, and whatever expensive seasoning satoru bought last week because apparently “regular salt is boring.”

you’re standing at the stove stirring dinner while quietly regretting ever teaching your husband how to cook.

not because he’s bad at it, unfortunately, he’s annoyingly good. but because now he treats the kitchen like his personal playground whenever you’re inside it.

“whatcha makin’?” satoru asks for the fourth time in ten minutes.

you don’t even turn around. “food.”

“woaah,” he gasps dramatically behind you. “really?”

you sigh. already, you can feel him hovering nearby.

he never just stands normally either. no. he leans against counters dramatically, stretches himself over your shoulder unnecessarily, or wraps himself around you like an oversized cat who thinks personal space is offensive.

today seems to be one of those days.

before you can react, long arms slide around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his chest.

“satoru,” you warn immediately.

“what?” he hums innocently against your shoulder.

“i’m cooking.”

“and?”

“and you’re attached to me.”

“exactly.”

you close your eyes briefly. this man. “go sit down.”

“don’t wanna.” of course he doesn’t.

he rests his chin on your shoulder now, white hair tickling your cheek while he watches the pan like he’s genuinely interested in what you’re doing.

“…yer stirring too aggressively.”

you stop mid-motion, then slowly turn your head toward him “i’m sorry?”

“mhm,” he nods seriously. “the vegetables are scared.”

you stare at him flatly, he grins immediately. there it is. that stupid grin that says he knows exactly how annoying he’s being.

“you’re unbearable,” you mutter, turning back toward the stove.

“but ya love me.”

and you can’t even argue against it. because you do, way too much honestly.

you try focusing again, ignoring the way his fingers lazily tap against your stomach while he sways both of you side to side slightly.

for exactly twelve seconds. then, 

“baby.”

you sigh. “what.”

“kiss.”

“i’m cooking.”

“multitask.”

you snort despite yourself. instantly, he notices.

“there’s the laugh i wanted,” he says proudly.

you roll your eyes. “you’re acting like a child.”

“yeah, but i’m your child.”

“that is absolutely not romantic.”

“worked though.”

before you can respond, he suddenly steals the spoon from your hand.

“satoru-”

he takes a dramatic taste directly from it, humming thoughtfully like he’s judging a five-star restaurant.

“…needs more love.”

you blink. “love?”

“mhm.”

“that’s not an ingredient.”

“sure it is.” he points the spoon toward you accusingly. “yer cooking while annoyed at me. the food can tell.”

you laugh again, quieter this time.

he’s impossible. and somehow fully aware that making you laugh is exactly how he gets away with everything.

he beams the second he hears it, immediately tightening his arms around you.

“there it is.”

“you’re insane.”

“and yet ya married me anyway.”

fair. you shake your head, reaching for the spoon again, but instead of giving it back immediately, he lifts it higher out of reach.

“satoru.”

“say please.”

you narrow your eyes. “i’m going to hit you with this pan.”

“violent. scary. terrifying even.”

“…satoru.”

he grins,  then finally hands it back only to immediately steal a kiss from your cheek while you’re distracted.

you let out an annoyed sound, but he just laughs softly against your skin.

“worth it.”

you swear he gets clingier the longer you’re married. not less.

because now he follows you everywhere around the apartment like he physically cannot handle being more than three feet away from you.

and the worst part? you’re used to it now.

used to the random kisses, the constant touching and the dramatic whining whenever you don’t give him attention immediately.

“baby,” he says again suddenly.

you point the spoon toward him threateningly. “if you ask for another kiss while i’m holding hot oil, i’m divorcing you.”

he gasps loudly. “wow. so this is what our marriage has become?”

“you caused this.”

“false,” he says immediately. “i’m adorable.”

you finally turn toward him fully, raising a brow. “…adorable.”

“mhm.”

“…not annoying?”

“both can exist.”

you hate that he’s right.

satoru notices your expression immediately and lights up like he’s won something.

“you think i’m cute.”

“i think you should leave my kitchen.”

instead of listening, he pulls you closer again, large hands settling against your hips this time. then, without warning, he buries his face into your neck dramatically.

“missed you today,” he mumbles.

your expression softens instantly. ah. there it is, underneath all the teasing, he just wanted attention.

you sigh quietly, setting the spoon down before reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. immediately, he melts against you, completely.

“you saw me this morning,” you murmur.

“too long ago.”

“…you’re needy.”

“only for you.” his voice is quieter now, warmer. and suddenly the teasing husband act slips just enough for you to see the softer part underneath it.

the real part.

you smile despite yourself, scratching lightly against his scalp.

“okay,” you whisper. “you can stay.”

he lifts his head immediately, grinning like he just won the lottery.

“sick. what’re we making?”

a/n : first time writing for gojo 👀👀 yall is this mic on 👀👀. tysm for reading and other than that theres nothing more to add !!

𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐞, 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫, 2026. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐢.

[tojiscreampie]

MDNI 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ satoru gojo vs no nut november | m.list cw : somnophilia ( reader wants it, she just thinks his ass is annoying. it is consensual )

“you really think i can't hold off on blowing my load for a whole month? pfft— cmon sweets, my self control is through the roof.”

this was later proved to be false, when on November 1st at 12:54 am, you wake up to your half asleep boyfriend rutting his leaking cock into your fluttering hole.

“oh, h-hey there sleepy girl, don't mind me, i-ah just couldn't resist, so pretty even when you're sleeping.”

he leans down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead, all while bottoming out inside your tight, already dripping heat, the delicious stretch of his thick throbbing cock stuffing you full.

pulsing veins drag along your silky walls, each shallow thrust molding your tight cunt to remember the shape of him as pre cum leaks out of his blushing pink tip.

his large hands caress your bouncing tits, kneading the soft swell as his thumbs rub over your pert nipples through the thin fabric of your tank top.

"t-toru, what are you- hck- doin'?" you hiccup, eyelids heavy as you wake from the dizzying haze of sleep, only to be thrown into the whirling haze of pleasure as you feel utterly and completely full of him, tummy tightening as you instinctively clench around him.

“sh-it, squeezing me like you don' wanna let me go— she was waitin’ f’me, w-was crying cause she missed me.” he brings a long finger to gather your juices that have mixed with his pre to form a creamy ring at the base of his cock, dripping down between your thighs.

“see how happy she is now? crying tears of joy.”

you're staring up at your no self control having ass boyfriend— cerulean orbs covered by blown out pupils, damp strands of white sticking to his sweat slicked forehead.

“god, mmph- 'toru—  you're literally insane.” you cup his heated cheeks in your small hands, squishing his face before pulling him down for a kiss. soft pink lips crashing against yours, tongues dancing and spit mingling between the sloppy kiss.

“mhm, insane for you— mmm, for this sweet pussy.” he brings his glistening fingers covered in your arousal to his mouth and sucks, tongue swirling around the long digits as he savors the taste of you on his tongue, a deep groan rumbling through his chest.

“you're such a f-freak satoru.” you mewl as his pace picks up, the loud plap plap plap of his heavy balls against your ass mixing with the lewd sounds of your sopping cunt and choked whimpers.

“y-yeah, but i'm your freak baby— f-fuck!” he spews a string of curses and whispers of your name as his swelling cock shoots thick rivulets of his seed deep inside, his head falling into the crook of your neck as he leaves open mouthed kisses along your collarbone.

you finish at the same time, the warm feeling of his cum filling you entirely pushing you over the edge. gummy walls clamping down around his spurting cock as your release gushes down his veiny shaft, down your thighs and onto the sheets.

“s-satoru,” you gasp out as he holds you close, fucking his cum back into you with a few languid rolls of his hips.

“unfortunately, you are my freak.”

you pant as you catch your breath, rubbing your hands through his sweat dampened tresses, nails grazing his scalp as he shudders and whimpers into your neck.

“so, what do you think about no dick december?” you tease.

now he's slipped out of your drooling hole, globs of cum leaking down your messy cunt as he flips you over suddenly, landing a sharp smack on the fat of your ass.

“oh, i'll show you exactly what i think of no dick december, sweetheart.” 

oops.

comments and reblogs appreciated! ♡ repost from my old account sytorusdoll

taglist: @martianzmars @deartoru @iheartanzai @moon-stone-987 @chewiebee @helloxkittylo @uhnosav @madamechrissy

gojo tags: @cursedkisss

[fushigasm]

i find the concept of bf!gojo teleporting to your apartment when you’re mad at him and ignoring his texts so funny

like he knows you’ll probably just be more mad and will end up slapping him for even trying that bs with his limitless but you’re severely underestimating his need for your attention.

you’re reading a book, lying on your stomach, calm in those extra fancy sheets satoru bought for you. and then he’s there. well, right next to the side of your bed, blindfold shoved up above his eerily blue eyes. your head snaps as you see him out your peripheral, jumping back immediately, nearly rolling off your bed when he appears.

“listen, baby—” a book hits him in his face—well almost does. it bounces off his…force field thingy…? if you’re honest every time he goes off on a tangent on his powers you just space out and nod along saying ‘so cool, toru’. he frowns like it’s an insane thing you tried to do that.

“what on earth is wrong with you, gojo!?” your voice is laced with shock, clenching your hands on the sheets, still a little shaken up from seeing his figure randomly appear in your room during your ‘decompressing time’ where you were supposed to be free of him.

“gojo? c’mon, you can’t be that mad?”

you ready your pillow in your hands, knowing it’ll still probably bounce right off if you throw it at him.

“what part of ‘fuck off.’ do you not get?” you’re raising your voice now and he looks physically hurt by it.

“well you said until i was ready to apologize,” he bends down, lying his arms on the bed infront of you while you jolt away. he frowns even more. “and i am, dear.” you kick his hands away when they try and trace his way up your shins.

he pouts like a child denied ice cream.

“i, satoru gojo,” he lies his head on the bed, still looking at you as he crones his head to the side. “apologize to my amazing, utterly gorgeous girlfriend, for embarrassing you infront of your boss.”

“you are such a child.” he sighs. you’re probably right—he got shitfaced infront of all your coworkers on wine coolers and disgustingly sweet alcohol, after insisting upon coming, and saying utter bullshit to your boss like a college kid. “and you just teleport here with your stupid powers? go to hell, satoru.” you throw the pillow, hitting him dead in the face after he deactivates his limitless.

you hate how cute he looks all pathetic like this, letting you throw stuff at him because he deserves this—he does—and just lying his face by your feet all pouty looking up at you. and you hate how his face actually makes you fold.

“you can sleep on my couch, tonight.” his head shoots up, dopey frog looking ass smile spreading across his face.

he ignores the rest of what you say unintentionally while he thinks about how so goddamn happy he is you don’t hate hate him.

he’s so fucking stupid.

not proofread ! btw this is not frog face gojo hate he looked his sexiest in shinjuku. and YES this is a reupload

[pillbaby]

satoru's obsessed with your glasses (˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵) ୨୧ dryhumping softdom!toru

satoru has a thing for your glasses. you're not sure what it is... or why it is. they're just lenses—you keep them on so that you don't run into walls or break traffic laws. they're practical, that's all. for you, at least.

for him? they drive satoru fucking crazy. his current obsession is the way they fog up when you're kissing and how they slide down the bridge of your nose when his teeth clash frantically against yours, spit mixing.

you'll be sitting on his lap, in nothing but one of his old shirts and panties, arousal soaking through the fabric of them, and right onto his boxers.

like now.

"fuck, you're so pretty, doll," satoru breathes, looking at you through his lashes. his hands sit firmly on your hips, keeping you close to him.

he watches with a grin as you huff in frustration, pushing your glasses back up. again. all because he won't let you take them off. despite that, your hips don't stop rolling against his, your clit catching on his budge with every motion.

soft moans slip past your lips, and he presses his mouth to yours, drinking them all up. he trails down to your neck, leaving wet kisses, occasionally stopping to suck softly on your skin.

"sato—i think m'close," you whine, gripping the fabric of his shirt tighter. your hips stutter against his, and he hums.

his voice is smooth, and he clicks his tongue, "yeah, baby? i can tell. go on, then."

that's really all it takes to push you over the edge, a broken gasp leaving your mouth. you struggle to keep moving against him, but satoru's hands guide you, hips bucking slightly up. he helps you ride your high out, murmuring sweet nothings.

"fuck me, 'toru?" you ask, breathy and dazed, but still needy. he responds by pulling you into another kiss. when your glasses knock against the bridge of his nose again, you pull back, wanting to toss them aside—

"wait... keep them on? please?"

[rengoatku]

Satoru vs personal space (ｰ̀⤙ｰ́ )

When Satoru bought a new bed for you two to share, you had assumed it meant you would finally regain some personal space.

This was proven to be, in fact, false.

This was the third night in a row that you had been awakened by your husband's long limbs smacking you in your sleep. One lanky leg flopped over your own shorter legs while his arm draped over your stomach. It had become a routine of sorts; he would join you in bed around 4AM after finishing his duties, then around 5AM, he would begin his shenanigans.

At first, it was smaller, less irritable things like accidentally nudging you in his sleep, or snoring, but as time went on, his unconscious body seemed to turn restless. Satoru began to spread out on the bed, taking up around seventy five percent of the mattress, leaving you a sliver of space to occupy.

His lanky frame lay sprawled on the bed, limbs stretched out on top of your own as if you were his personal body pillow.

It eventually became insufferable; you couldn’t sleep with his constant invasion of your personal space, so you begged him to buy a bigger bed.

And that he did, except it somehow made the problem worse.

Now you lie awake, 5:17AM, with your husband snoring happily next to you, his leg draped over your hip, arm stretched over your collarbone, and face tucked into the crook of your neck. You didn’t understand how he managed to somehow take up the entire king-sized bed.

You huffed, trying — and failing — to push his body off of you, “Gosh, why are you so damn heavy?” You muttered under your breath, hand moving to nudge him awake.

“Toru, get up!” You whisper shouted, “You’re suffocating me, you oaf.” Gojo blinked groggily, bright blue eyes piercing the dimly lit room, “As much as I adore you, I’d like to get my three hours of beauty sleep, babe.” He groaned, nuzzling further into your neck, “Yeah, Toru. Me too, get off.”

He whined, pulling you further into his embrace as if he was trying to trap you. You rolled your eyes at him, hands still trying to push him away so you could actually enjoy your sleep. “Why do you hate me? I’m just trying to cuddle my wife,” he peeked up at you, blue eyes widening in faux puppy eyes.

“No, you’re suffocating me. Seriously, baby, how do you take up so much space?” He lifted his head, gasping in mock offence, “Are you calling me overweight? That’s so hurtful, I’ll have you know I have an amazing physique.” You stifled a laugh, brushing your fingers through his snowy hair, “Yes, Toru, I can see that, but I wouldn’t be surprised if all those sugary snacks caught up to you.”

“I’m just saying you sprawl out a lot, Toru, I’m trying to sleep, and I feel you practically on top of me.” He hummed into your neck, seemingly contemplating how to respond, “I just enjoy being close to you, is that a crime?”

You giggled, “It is when I’m practically being strangled.” Satoru whined louder this time, “It’s not fair, you deprive me of physical touch, babe.” You swatted his shoulder lightly, “Be quiet, you big baby. No one said we couldn’t cuddle. I just said stop confusing me for the mattress.” He pouted, “But you’re so soft.”

Leaning down, you kissed his pursed lips, “Just cuddle me like a normal person, okay?”

“But I’m not normal,” he sleepily argued.

You laughed, tugging lightly on his messy hair, “I know, baby. I know.”

🏷 @kamislop @hangenism @clarasthoughtss

Join the taglist

[kkunai]

[𝜗℘] :: older bf!gojo gives you your special reward after finding out you passed your finals.

tags. age gap (reader early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). fluff & smut. vanilla, praise, dirty talk, cunnilingus, p in v -> unprotected, body worship-ish, spooning position, breast play, creampie, size diff, reader gets called ‘princess, baby, pretty, adorable’ :: wc. 2.3k

“oh my god!”

you almost drop your phone from the pure shock you just experienced. your hands shake as you look at the unexpected results reflected on the small screen.

satoru, who was minding his business in the kitchen, hurries into the bedroom the moment he hears your shriek. he’s prepared to help you out with whatever caused you to yell so loudly, though is surprisingly met with your beaming smile.

“oh, what got my princess so happy?” he asks with a grin of his own, stepping into the room.

his gaze darts from the phone in your hand to your face and back again. satoru chuckles as you suddenly run up to hug him. he joyfully reincorporates the embrace; your happy mood being contagious.

you giggle and babble on about how you passed your two exams and how you ‘didn’t think you’d be able to attain such high grades’.

your boyfriend hums and strokes your hair whilst you ramble, kissing the top of your head with a proud expression, “as expected of my girl. i’m super proud of you.”

there goes the praise again—making your heart flutter in ways that no one else had done before.

you sigh in content and bury your face into his chest. satoru pulls back after a moment, tenderly cupping your face so he can look into those pretty eyes of yours.

you’re his weakness. he knows you are—he’s always known you are, yet that adorable look on your face whenever you gaze up at him through your eyelashes never gets old.

that same look also makes him want to do unspeakable things to you; things that would have you crying from pure pleasure. you deserve to be shown what a true man would do for you out of love.

what a true man like your lover would do to you for your own satisfaction and pleasure.

“i think my pretty girl deserves a reward for doing so well on her exams,” satoru whispers, slender fingers trailing from your jaw to your neck, brushing over your collar bone, “would you like that? a reward just f’you.”

you weren’t born yesterday.

you knew exactly what he is indicating. you can tell by his loving yet lustful gaze, his fingers that sensually drag along your skin and his tongue that darts out to subtly lick his lips. as if he’s preparing to devour a five star meal.

which he was.

“f—ngh, satoru!”

your legs are wrapped around his head, his mouth and tongue working their magic on your sopping cunt whilst his hands are holding you down by your hips.

satoru hadn't wasted a single second after you agreed to his proposal. he instantly lifted your skirt up, pulled your panties down to your ankles and dived right between your legs.

your thighs are clamping down on his head—almost forcing him to continue pleasuring you. not that your lover minds: he’d gladly do this again and again if he could.

satoru leaves sloppy kisses all over your pussy, drenching it in not only your own bodily fluids, but his own saliva as well.

“mm, a little needy, aren't ya?” he mutters whilst softly kissing up and down your slit.

he’s admiring both the sight and the noises—your back arching, hips stuttering and voice shaking with need.

the older man certainly did enjoy the view of your cute little face contorting with pleasure each time the top of his tongue teased your clit, “yeah, cmonnn, let me see your face while i eat you out.”

you hesitate, however eventually remove your hands that try (and fail) to hide your flustered expression. satoru lets out an almost inaudible whine at the revelation. his cock is begging to be freed from its confines.

he wants to fuck you into oblivion, but today is your day. he longs to satisfy your own desires first.

satoru is nasty with it too. the unmistakeable, erotic and wet noises of him slurping up your juices mingle with your moans and whines. the white locks of his hair brush against the insides of your thighs and right above your clit—tickling you in all the right ways and adding to the pleasure you were receiving.

“fuck,” the older man curses under his breath and the warmth against your pussy makes your lower body twitch.

his big hands squeeze around your hips, silently warning you to stay still so he can properly enjoy you, “y’re gonna make me cum before i can make you finish.”

his words are true.

satoru can get off from simply watching and hearing his girl enjoy herself. he has no shame in admitting that fact; he can't help it when you’re this incredibly gorgeous.

he grinds his crotch against the soft mattress as his mouth continues to eat you out in a painfully slow yet tender manner.

“t-toru, g'nna cum,” you whimper and try to grind your cunt against his tongue in search for that last push that would send you over the edge.

your high-pitched voice sounding so extremely whiny seals the deal for your boyfriend. he pulls his head away from your tingling cunt—which is a second away from reaching its orgasm—and sits up on his knees.

satoru smirks once he hears your mumbled complaints. one large hand settles on top of your head and gives your scalp a few relaxing rubs whilst the other hastily undoes the zipper of his pants.

he tilts his head to the right, glancing down at your squirming form with a lopsided grin, “d’ya want another treat, princess?”

of course, you nod.

you’re aching for that release that's been building up in your lower stomach—needing to reach that long awaited climax. your eyes follow his movements as he pulls his pants down. again, as painfully slow as possible.

“just a nod? tha’s all i get?” satoru pouts, nonchalantly revealing his lengthy cock for you to feast your eyes upon.

he sighs dramatically before trailing two slender fingers down to your cunt, gathering your slick and using it to coat his tip. the pre-cum mixes with your own fluids and the erotic sight makes your mouth water, “i know for sure that my smart little girl can use her big words to get what she wants—let me hear ‘em.”

while you gather your thoughts and words, satoru lays down behind you, helping your body onto its right side. you’re facing the wall, therefore unable to see that cocky expression he has on. his arms pull your back flush against his chest, positioning your hips and lifting one of your legs up properly.

“p-pleasee, need to have you inside me. can’t wait any longer, ‘toru.” you manage to beg in the end.

the warmth radiating from his body behind you only increases your sinful craving. he teases you by kissing your nape while his hands get rid of your top—fingers then immediately fondling your tits.

his husky voice whispers a 'good girl' in your ear and that’s all you got as an answer before you feel his cockhead prod at your entrance. satoru hisses at just the slightest of contact—not sure if he can last long this time. he feels like he will explode the moment his tip glides inside your pretty cunt.

“so beautiful, can’t believe how lucky i got,” satoru grunts as his lips refuse to leave your skin. from your neck to your shoulders and upper arms—he doesn’t leave a single inch uncovered.

it’s almost tortureous: the way he grinds his tip against your pussy as he touches the rest of your body with his hands and mouth.

you whine and rub your hips back in the same rhythm. you’re indirectly begging him to put it in already and be takes notice of it. since you have begged nicely once before, he won’t coax you into doing it again.

with a light moan, satoru slides his throbbing cock all the way up the tight space. the squeal you let out at the sensation of being stretched out to your maximum capacity, makes him murmur a few more words of praise in your ear.

“y’re doing so good—takin’ me so well,” his voice is smooth like honey, the same goes for his soft thrusts. the way your pussy grips his cock makes him see stars.

your boyfriend never gets tired of making love to you because the hypnotising feeling of being inside you doesn't ever get old. it feels like the first time he had stuffed you full of his cock over and over again.

you’re feeling light-headed by now; your eyes rolling back as your mouth forms an 'o'-shape—the cockdrunk look satoru loves to see on you. the squelshy 'flop flop flop' noises echo throughout the room with every deep thrust of his hips against the plump flesh of your ass.

satoru's long fingers go from playing with your nipples to groping your hips and ass. his eyes gaze downwards, watching as the fat of your bottom ripples after his pace quickens.

you’re trying your best to keep up, but the overstimulation of all your senses makes it hard to match your movements to his.

“aht aht. you've worked hard enough on your exams already, princess. just lay back and allow me to do everything, satoru scolds you lightheartedly.

this is your reward and he doesn’t want you putting in any effort if your body can’t handle it. he wants you to relax like you deserve after a stressful period of exams and assignments. he’ll happily do all the work instead.

“oh, mmh! too good—fuck!” you mewl.

your fingers curl around the bedsheets that move back and forth with your bodies. a bigger hand settles on top of yours—intertwining your fingers and holding onto them tightly. you can feel satoru smiling against the skin of your shoulder as he kisses it, absolutely enjoying your little reactions to his thrusts.

“yeah? am i doing well?” he asks in a teasing tone.

he doesn’t have to ask that question; he knows he’s doing well judging purely by your bodily reactions. your back arches and your limbs shake uncontrollably, “am i pleasin’ my baby well enough?”

you can only moan out a couple ‘yes’’s, but that is enough of a confirmation. the older man is on cloud nine as he drags his thick cock in and out of your desperate cunt. every time he pulls out he can feel your pussy try to swallow him back in. it drives him nuts.

“i love how you look whilst i stuff you full of my cock. so innocent, yet so.. lewd at the same time,” satoru mumbles through another groan, the hand on your hip holding your body still so he can fuck his dick deeper into you.

the tip of his cock nearly reaches your cervix due to the angle he uses to move inside you.

your long-awaited and much deserved orgasm is right around the corner. your moans increase in frequency and volume which is enough of a sign for satoru to increase the pleasure. his fingers trail down your hips and to the center between your open legs—thumb putting pressure on your clit.

the extra stimulation has got you biting into the pillow beneath your head, your lower body writhing around as your lover rubs the small bundle of nerves in circles and from side to side. his hand moves fast, its mission being to help you reach that intense orgasm you’re chasing after.

satoru is feeling it himself as well. his cock aches and twitches as it gets ready to drain its balls inside your pussy, “cum with me baby—fuck—cum on my cock while i dump my load all the way into y’r tight little cunt.”

that is all the encouragement you need.

your eyes roll back and your body convulses as the waves of pleasure come crashing down all at once. you can feel satoru’s hips desperately push against your ass, filling you completely with both his dick and hot spurts of cum. you feel the warm essence leaving its evidence in your womb.

the bedsheets underneath your two bodies is now drenched in your slick after you calm down a bit. your boyfriend continues to place comforting kisses all over your naked body, trying to show his appreciation for you in all the ways he could.

“y’ did so well. you deserved this, princess.” satoru mutters softly, the hair clinging onto his forehead.

he gently pulls his soft cock out after a minute of making sure that every drop of his cum stayed inside of your cunt. he loves the feeling of fulfilment that it gives him—loves the fact that he filled his girl to the brim.

you smile weakly. you’re fucked out: completely and utterly. it feels good and you’re more than satisfied with your reward. it even gave you enough motivation to do well on future exams.

“thanks, ‘toru. ‘m feeling sleepy though.”

satoru snickers. you’re always so adorable and vulnerable around him after the two of you partake in such activities. he loves it and it makes him want to take care of you.

“you deserve plenty of rest, so go ahead.”

he smiles gently, kissing the top of your head after you close your eyes. one of his hands hold yours whilst the other rubs your side soothingly, “i won't leave. i'll stay right here with you as you sleep. i promise."

satoru knows you need to hear those words in your vulnerable state. and surely enough, you smile once more and nod. your body falls asleep the moment his strong arms pull you into a loving hug.

his lips attach to your ear in the form a chaste peck. his smooth voice is the last thing you hear as you fade into an unconscious state;

“i love you so much, yeah?”

[yenayaps]

Accelerate

pairing: gojo x milf!reader

synopsis: a story in which a depressed satoru gets sent to the future and sees just how bright it eventually becomes. meanwhile, you're reminded of how much of a brat your husband used to be when you first started dating.

cw: MDNI, time travel, smut w/ a touch of angst bc we LOVE plot, satoru's actually so mean at first lol, dad!jo (him and reader share a daughter together)

notes: hiiii we got 6.5k words for this one ❤️ comm for the lovely @sadlittlecucumber i hope u like!!!!

song rec: drag path — twenty one pilots

Satoru’s life ended up being a fucking bummer. 

His best friend’s a mass murderer. Shoko’s gone off to do her own thing with medicine. Nanami left to go become a banker or whatever. Ijichi’s… Ijichi. Oh, and Haibara’s dead. Everyone who’s alive seems to have moved on— so should Satoru, honestly. But times proved that to be quite difficult. 

He’s starting to understand where Suguru was coming from with the whole exorcise-absorb mantra. Except for him, it was exorcise and destroy, leaving every cursed site he’s stepped foot on looking like god himself decided to hit the reset button to obliterate the place.

Nobody says anything about it. He’s probably the closest thing to a god. Despite having tried his hardest all throughout his youth to fit in and act as if he was just like everyone else, people were still terrified to fuck with him. 

And despite the chaos he’s constantly surrounded by— mainly from his own doing— the days still find a way to bleed into each other, morphing into a never ending cycle of boredom and violence. It’s quite the combo. The higher ups are lucky he’s too tired to plot anything behind their backs. 

He’s exhausted. 

The past is too blurry. The future’s too bleak. 

Gojo was bound to fuck up sooner or later. The thought of him finally snapping like Suguru did, dangling in the back of his mind, taunting him. 

He didn’t snap. It’s so much worse than that. At least in the eyes of the arrogant boy who got bested by, what he assumed to be a grade two curse because of how pudgy and stupid it looked. The thing that caught him lacking looked like a fucking blob fish that struggled with crippling anxiety, how the hell was he supposed to know that it could mess with timeof all things? 

One moment he’s laughing at the way it looks, the next he’s in the complete dark. 

That was the first time he’s smiled in months, by the way. 

“Huh?” Satoru huffs out, trying to look around before eventually realizing that he has a blindfold on, and rips it off in annoyance. “Don’t tell me that thing knocked me out,” he begins to grumble to himself. It’d explain why he had a blindfold on… but then he realized he was in a completely different outfit, one that you didn’t put on someone who was currently in rest and recovery. 

He highly doubts Shoko would even change him, anyway, at least not for this. 

“Oh hey, you’re home.” 

Home? 

He looks around, and all he knows is this isn’t the dorm he’s continued to stay in after graduation, purely due to the fact that he was already out on missions for up to 18 hours each day. Not to mention that the penthouse he was currently standing in was too clean to be his. Too warm. Way too comfortable.

You already knew there was something deeply off in those first few seconds of looking into his eyes. This wasn’t your husband— this was the hot mess you met and still fell in love with all those years ago. 

You tilt your head to the side, more curious than cautious, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he snorts, literally the worst liar ever. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” you hum, holding eye contact long enough to leave him feeling a bit unsettled. “You tell me.”

First of all, who the fuck do you think you are speaking to him like that?

Second, who even are you?

Something big and shiny on your finger catches his attention, then he looks at his own hand that has an equally shiny band around his ring finger. 

Fuck.

“Honey–”

Satoru physically cringes at the pet name, giving himself away once again. 

“I’m not Satoru,” he blurts out, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “I mean, I am, but I’m not— FUCK– some fuckin’ curse blasted me into the future, and I need to go back.”

Well, that was quick. He’s always quick to fold under pressure when it comes to you— it’s something he’s unaware of though, as he fights back the urge to start pacing back and forth. 

There’s a light smack from your mouth when you go to open it, only for the words to never even come, let alone die out. Nothing about this surprises you. This is not the craziest thing that’s happened since you’ve met Satoru. 

Your lips thin into a smile as you take a deep breath, knowing you had no choice but to accept your new circumstances. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He raises a brow at how you just… accepted it.

“Yeah… I believe it.” You respond flatly, then point at him, casually motioning your finger up and down. “Your attitude kinda sucked when we first met.”

He grimaces, taken aback by the statement. “No, it doesn’t–”

“You also liked to argue, too.”

“Okay— whatever,” he waves a dismissive hand, not at all interested in hearing what else you had to say. At this point, it just sounded like you wanted to shit on him, something he actually doesn’t have any fucking time for right now. “You’re a sorcerer… right?” 

“No.” 

“Christ.” Satoru sighs, turning on his heel. “You’re fuckin’ useless—“

You scoff, more humored than offended. “Where are you going?” 

“To figure this shit out!” he snaps, throwing his arms out as he turns around to face you. 

“Okay,” you shrug, still way too calm for Satoru’s liking, as it pisses him off even more. “If you don’t get it all figured out tonight, you can always come back. We have a guest room.” 

“Yeah, thanks.” He huffs out a bitter laugh, as if that was the dumbest suggestion he’s ever heard. “I appreciate the offer.” 

– 

“Yaga” Satoru storms into the principal’s office, ignoring all his cursed stuffed animals, but noticing what he’s done with his hair. “What the fuck happened to you?”

The principal's brows pinch together, wishing he had locked the door to his office. Satoru fucked with him enough today by showing up to a meeting 20 minutes late with some sugary frap in his hand, and now he’s storming into his office, insulting him out of nowhere. 

“Actually, nevemind.” Satoru waves a hand to stop him from even answering his question, reminding himself not to get sidetracked right now. “Look, I need your help. I got sent into the future by some curse, and I need to get back.”

Yaga inhales sharply. “What are you even talking about?”

“Exactly what I just said! I’m from 2009! Not whatever age I am now—”

“31.”

Satoru throws up a little in his mouth. “Send me back.” 

Yaga lets out a long, disappointed sigh. It’s always something with Satoru. Always. Having to deal with the younger version of him was a painful reminder that he’s been dealing with his bullshit for well over a decade now. Nothing surprises him anymore.  

“Let me see if some other windows would be willing to help look through the library. I’m sure you’ll be able to find information on what kind of curse you got hit with.”

“Thank you,” Satoru groans, still not very pleased by everyone’s reactions thus far, but grateful that he can at least get somewhere with Yaga… unlike a certain somebody. 

Hours later, he finds himself at the school’s dusty, unkept library. It looks worse than it originally looked before he walked in. Books sprawled everywhere. Research papers were scattered all over the tables and floor. Assistants running around in every direction, more than half of them terrified at the total 180 in Satoru’s attitude. 

“W-we can’t find anything,” Ijichi says, too old to be acting this scared in Satoru’s opinion. 

He hums, elbows still resting on his knees, not bothering to sit up. “Hey, Ijichi?”

Ijichi gulped loudly, managing to annoy the world’s strongest sorcerer even more. “...Yes?” 

“How are you even more incompetent now than you were before?”

“I tried my best! I swear!”

“Well, it’s not good enough— I’m still here!” he snaps at the nervous wreck of a man. Thank fucking god Ijichi listened to him and just became a window. He sucks at it too, but at least it’s easier for this dumbass to avoid death. “God— what the fuck am I supposed to do now?!”

“This is just one of the libraries, there’s more! And some in Kyoto too, that we’ll have the Kyoto branch check out.”

“Do whatever you need to do. I’m just letting you know right now that if I'm not back by tomorrow, you better watch the fuck out.”

The threat is followed by complete dead silence, aside from a certain someone's breath catching in horror.

“Me?!” Ijichi squeaks out.

The sorcerer doesn’t bother answering that and instead walks away, grumbling something insulting under his breath, just in complete and utter disbelief over how Ijichi truly hasn’t changed. 

—

You figured your husband would eventually come back, so you set some food aside for him, and now you’re sitting at the dinner table, trying not to laugh at the pout on his face as he picks at his dinner with the chopsticks in his hand. 

“Is the food good?”

“Sure.”

“I can warm that up for you, if you want?” you ask, barely trying to hide your amusement. 

“No thanks,” he curtly responds before shoving another piece of karaage into his mouth. He’s known to have a sweet tooth, but chicken karaage’s probably his favorite food, savory wise. You almost want to tell him that he’s allowed to enjoy food even if his day hasn’t gone the way he had planned. “I’d appreciate it if you stopped staring.” 

Your lips twitch, threatening to break out into a fit of laughter. “Right, sorry.”

“Mommy…? Is Daddy home yet?” 

Oh great. As if the day couldn’t get any worse— now there’s a child.

“Yeah,” you respond in a tentative tone, shooting Satoru a look that screams ‘behave or else’, and even though you are currently a stranger to him, it intimidates him enough to behave for the time being. 

A little girl, no older than 4 years old, walks into the kitchen and Satoru’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head upon seeing his daughter. It’s pretty obvious she’s his with her baby blue eyes and stark white hair. Her facial features are entirely yours, though. It’s strange to see.

“Hey… kiddo—” he awkwardly says, not really sure how to address the little girl. You clear your throat, mouthing ‘princess’ when he looks at you, because your daughter also happens to have her dad’s attitude. “I mean princess.”

It’s hilarious how unnatural it sounds right now when he was the one who started calling her that the moment you two took her home from the hospital. 

“You pomis to wead bedtime stowie,” she starts to pout— same exact way he does.

“Did I?” He gives the girl a sympathetic look, albeit fake. 

“Yeah,” she frowns as she walks up to you, giving him the world’s nastiest side eye. “Liar.”

Why is that the one word she’s able to enunciate correctly? She didn’t even stutter.

“Yeah— I was a little busy with work today,” he murmurs, as if she knew what that even meant. With the glare she was giving him, he doubted she’d even care if he broke down what work and the importance of it was. “Maybe mommy can read to you tonight?”

Sai wasn’t having that. 

Satoru spent the end of his night reading her favorite book to her. Multiple times. He almost asked if it was some form of punishment for not upholding a promise he didn’t technically make himself, but decided against it in fear that she’d make him read it one more time. Sai fell asleep… eventually. Despite there being no way to prove it, he knows that the little girl forced herself to stay up out of pure spite. 

But still, he finds himself smiling as he thinks about his nightmare of a future, not wiping it off quickly enough when you lightly knock on the guest bedroom door.

“Here’s some jammys for the night.” You smile back as you walk up and hand him a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt, both neatly folded up. “Figured you wouldn’t want to sleep in your work clothes.”

“Oh uh— thanks.” He clears his throat and forces out a laugh, pushing through the embarrassment of getting caught smiling to himself. 

You’re giving him that look again. The one that’s mixed with amusement and a bit of fondness, where you look like you’re about to start making fun of him, but never do. Satoru would rather die than admit it makes him nervous. 

“What?” 

There’s a small pause as your smile grows. “Do you like your kid?”

“She’s weird.”

“Yeah, no— you wouldn’t believe who she got that from.”

“Fuck off.” A laugh easily slips through his lips this time, unable to stay serious at the thought of her inheriting even just a quarter of the traits he had as a child. Then it grows quiet again as he realizes she probably has the freedom to be a kid. 

He wants to ask, but you beat him to it with a statement that answered the question he had in mind. 

“Your duties as her father don’t end just because you managed to time travel by the way,” you say playfully, though he knows you’re being dead serious. 

He can only guess what other horrors that little girl will subject him to for the rest of his time here. To put it simply, she’s not afraid of Dad. 

For once, somebody doesn’t look at him as a god to fear. 

—

It’s been over a month. 

Ijichi and the rest of the windows are just as useless as they were when they first started trying to find answers. All that’s changed is that Nanami knows, and doesn’t seem to be too thrilled about the fact that he is now involved.

But still, the search for the fix to his predicament continues, turning every library and warehouse upside down. That’s all they could really do— aside from asking the elders for assistance of some sort. 

Over his dead body. 

Knowing they’d most likely do more harm than good, everyone’s agreed to keep this all a little secret from them.

So all that’s left to do, or rather forced to do, is to be patient. It’s hard. Satoru doesn’t do patient— he’s the type to snap his fingers and have a solution magically appear right before his eyes. You can only imagine how difficult it’s been for him to accept that he can’t immediately get what he wants right now.

Not to mention the fact that he had to continue working throughout all of this, but that wasn’t very surprising. 

Now, what was surprising was learning that he has his weekends completely to himself. If anything, he assumed he’d just work more as time went on, but no. Turns out he threatened to kill the higher-ups if they didn’t let him have that when you two got married. 

Satoru looks over your body once. 

Twice. 

He totally understands his future self. 

He looks again for a third time, and you just so conveniently turn around, showing off your cute, frilly little apron covered in flour streaks. 

It’s Sunday— you’ve been baking sweet treats all morning, and he wishes he had been a little nicer to you. Especially a couple of days ago when he snapped at you. 

You had found him sitting alone on the balcony, head in his hands from yet another day of failure. 

“Hey… any good news?”

“No,” he said impatiently. “If there was, I wouldn’t fucking be here right now.” 

“Fair enough.” Your voice took a dip as you looked at the ground, allowing yourself to feel a little hurt for a moment before trying to lift the mood again. “Well… me and Sai stopped by your favorite bakery and got you the cookies you like if you wanted some—“

“No— no,” Satoru cut you off. “I don’t want your fucking cookies. I don’t want to do a family movie night where all we watch is Ms. Rachel. I don’t want to read some book about a mouse trying to become a fucking painter over and over again. I don’t want ANY of it. I want to fucking go home— what part about that do you not get?”

You tried to stand as straight as possible despite your shoulders growing heavier, pushing against the small frown threatening to carve itself across your face. You forgot how mean he used to be, at least during that first year of dating him. It only stings more because the man you married would never raise his voice like that, and you remind yourself that this isn’t him.

After a long pause, he looked up at you and immediately felt guilt wash over him.

“I didn’t mean that,” he tried to meet your eyes as he began to backtrack. “I’m sorry, I just— fuck. I didn’t mean any of that—”

“It’s fine.” You forced yourself to look at him again and smile. “I’ll uh… give you some space.”

The one thing about Satoru is that he doesn’t apologize. Like ever. So, one could only imagine how painfully awkward it was later that night when he knocked on your bedroom door to say he was sorry. It didn’t help that you were in a paper-thin silk slip, skin glistening from the lotion you rubbed all over it— he spent half his time trying not to stare at your tits. Had you been anyone else, it wouldn’t have felt as genuine. 

But thank fuck he apologized, you probably would’ve spent all day ignoring him. 

You raise a brow, and his cheeks start to pink. “What are you staring at?” 

“Nothing, you just–” he awkwardly gestures at your entire body, “there’s flour all over you.” 

It almost sounds like he’s offended by it. He kind of is. You keep your foot on his fucking neck— he doesn’t even know why he came out here. 

“Oh, right— 'cause messes have always bothered you,” you lean over the island ever so slightly. The pink on his cheeks darkens as you do, unable to control his eyes from drifting down to your cleavage. And while he’s not exactly ashamed of looking— you are his wife after all— he can’t help but be a little flustered. 

He’s always had a thing for milfs.

Especially when said milf is talking about messes— he knows a couple of places he could make a mess on right now. 

“Nah,” he rests his elbows on the marble counter as a playful grin stretches across his face. “This is nothing compared to how I like it.”  

You tilt your head, a small laugh escaping you as you rest your chin over your palm, curious to see where this conversation will get you. 

“How do you like it?” you ask, as if you didn’t already know how filthy and depraved he could get when he’s alone in a room with you. 

And you fucking miss that. 

He opens his mouth to respond. 

Then you hear your daughter whimpering about waking up alone. It’s nothing new, and you revert back to mom mode as you watch her turn the corner and waddle towards you. 

Satoru, on the other hand, is not used to this. The slightly bruised laugh he lets out just barely masks his desire to fucking scream. What a fucking cockblock— no wonder you only have one kid. 

His kid completely ignores his existence as she wraps herself around your leg, continuing to whimper despite no actual tears streaming down her cheeks. “I had a nightmawh.”

Meanwhile, there’s Satoru, who has yet to wake up from his very own nightmare. He internally sighs, then attempts to grab her attention because it doesn’t feel very good watching her give it all to you. “You wanna share a muffin with daddy?”

It’s starting to sound more natural.

“Y-yeah,” she sniffles. 

Minutes later, she’s sitting on his lap, absolutely demolishing the blueberry muffin they ended up splitting— a complete 180. He couldn’t be mad, even if he tried. 

His little girl was a dream. 

—

Month two. Ijichi is still as useless as ever. He stopped complaining to you about him, though. You noticed he doesn’t talk about going back to his original timeline all that much anymore.

It’s not like Satoru’s given up hope, he’s just more present, as if he finally realized that wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to send him back any faster. He’s unknowingly more like his future self— laid back, not a care in the world. 

He’s even sleeping in for once. It’s not that hard though when Sai’s gone for the day. She seemed to care more about getting the hell out of the house with her grandparents than greeting her father a good morning. You didn’t push her to, either— figuring Satoru needed the sleep. He always does. 

It’s too bad that his phone started blowing up at around 10:00 am. Unfortunately for you, he left his phone in the living room, leaving you to get up and grab it since the master bedroom was the closest room to it. With how thick the walls are, you doubt he’d even hear it.

With a long sigh, you rise from bed, rubbing the sleep off your eyes as you snatch the stupid phone off the coffee table. 

The snores coming from Satoru reach your ears before you even open the door. You have to hold back a laugh as you walk in and take a look at him. Face down, his long limbs sprawled over the bed, messy white hair sticking out in all directions. 

You reach out and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, surprised infinity is off. 

“Toru?” He stirs a bit, and you cautiously attempt to wake him up again. “Toru— someone’s been trying to call you for the past 10 minutes now.”

He lifts his head, eyes still sealed shut as he murmurs, “Who?” 

“Uhh,” you look at the screen, unsure of who it might be. “Your contact name for them is nerd.” 

You know it’s not Ijichi because his contact name is “courage 🐶” in his phone. Someone else must've annoyed Satoru for him to change yet another contact. 

Satoru shoves his head back into the pillow and groans before taking the phone off your hands.

It’s Nanami. He, of all people, should know now is not the time to be blowing up his phone right now because he is fucking sleeping. It’s a Saturday for fucks sake. 

Satoru sighs and accepts the call, grumbling into the phone. “What?”

Nanami cuts straight to the chase, as he would rather be doing anything else right now. 

“How long are you planning on hiding your secret from the higher-ups?” he asks in a clipped tone. 

Satoru rubs his eyes, too tired to return the same sense of urgency his friend seems to have at the moment. “Forever.”

“Don’t give me that.” A vein pops up on the side of the usually stoic man’s forehead. “They asked me about you this morning. They know something’s up. I can’t keep covering for you if it means my own safety’s on the line.”

“You really haven’t changed, have you?” It’s more of a statement than a question.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean—“

“You’ll be fine,” Satoru cuts him off. “They’re always up my ass anyway. I doubt they’re even suspicious. They just don’t know how to mind their own fuckin’ business. Seriously. You’re worrying over nothing right now.”

“I swear to god Gojo, if you—“

“Kay’ good night.” 

Click.

Nanami’s probably fuming right now, but he’ll get over it. Satoru wanted to enjoy this. Lying in a comfy bed, surrounded by nothing but peace and quiet. He closes his eyes and stretches a bit, then rests his hands behind his head. 

He would’ve forgotten that you were still sitting at the edge of the bed had you not lightly cleared your throat. One eye opens to look at you, then closes. The last thing he wants to do is share the reason why Nanami had been blowing up his phone all morning. 

“Just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not here.” You cross your arms. “What was that all about?” 

“Nothin’,” he easily says. “Just Nanami being Nanami— the guy’s a fuckin’ stickler for no reason.” 

“That’s a little rude, no?” you chastise him. 

“So is waking me up.” 

“Sai wakes you up all the time, though.”

“Sai’s a ball of sunshine,” he says, quickly coming to her defense. “Not a grown man with depression— where is she by the way?” 

“She’s spending the afternoon with my parents.” 

Both eyes open this time, and stay open. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

“No way,” you wave a hand. “I need a break, too.” 

“Yeah, no— I’m sure,” he agrees, feeling flustered all the sudden. 

And Satoru being Satoru, he doesn’t do a very good job of hiding it, once again forgetting that you can read him better than anyone else can.

You smile, scooching closer, “You good there?” 

“Yeah, m’fine,” he murmurs, trying not to shift around too much.

“I can take care of that, you know.” 

“What?” 

“That.” You look down at the boner he’s been trying to hide since finding out it’s just you two here.

“That’s not—“ His brain straight up short-circuits. “You don’t think that’s weird?” 

“No.” You continue to inch forward, getting closer to him. “Do you think it’s weird?”

“No— never,” he shakes his head, answering a little too fast. “Fuck— won’t future me get mad?” 

“Not at all. The most he’d probably do is make me show him what we did.” 

“Make you show him?” he repeats after you in disbelief. 

“Is that a problem?” 

“No, that’s— that’s fuckin’ hot.” 

Minutes later, you’re leaning forward with your hand wrapped around his base, and his breath catches as you start to slowly pump his cock. 

“Feel good?” 

His lids lower as he hums, “yeah— keep going.”

You lean forward, letting a string of spit fall from your lips to the tip of his cock, letting it mix with the precum that was already beading down from it. The wet sounds of you stroking him begin to grow, making the heat in between your legs start to pool.

“Can I sit on it?” You look up at him, batting your lashes as you innocently ask. 

“Please,” he blurts out, just about ready to start begging you to.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t just as eager as him after all the weeks spent pretending like you don’t notice the way he stares at you. Lustfully. The slip you’re wearing happens to be extra short today, so you forego stripping down and practically pounce on him. Your soaked panties grazing over his rock-hard length as you straddle him, letting yourself get comfortable while Satoru grows impatient. 

His hands find themselves planted on your hips and pull you down. A low groan escapes him as he grinds you against him. “God— fuck me. Please.”

“Well, since you’re being so sweet—”

You reach down, hooking a finger into the fabric of your panties, pulling them to the side. He’s already lining himself up with your entrance, teasing your hole as he runs his tip through your folds, collecting all the slick. His lips part as he watches in awe at how damn wet you are. 

His head tips back as you lower yourself, groaning and rambling to himself as if you weren’t there to hear it all. 

"Fuck. You’re so hot.” His words come out strained as he watches you start to take him inch by inch, slowly working yourself open. “So fuckin’ tight, too.” 

“Mmm— forgot how big you are.” Your voice is all soft and breathy from the fullness, nails slowly digging into his abs as you bottom out.

It takes a minute to adjust— it has been 3 months after all. But then you finally roll your hips, and Satoru almost starts singing praises at how good you are at that—  lifting your hips all the way up and throwing them back, taking all of him. 

"Fuck yeah– just like that," he breathes, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. "Feels so fucking good."

You murmur back a measly, “kay,” already dizzy from the stretch. You’re able to keep up the pace on your own for a bit, until you feel his grip on you tighten and the sounds of skin slapping against his start to grow as he starts to help you out. 

You wouldn’t exactly call it help though, not when he ended up doing all the work— holding you steady while he practically bounces you on his cock, pulling more and more moans out of you as the head of his cock repeatedly kissed your sweet spot with almost no effort. 

"You take it so good," he groans, pupils blown wide as he starts to feel himself lose control, snapping his hips up a little harder than the last. He wants more, he always wants more— so he pulls you forward and pulls your straps down far enough for your tits to spill out. "Perfect fuckin’ tits. Been thinking about these for weeks."

You let out a surprised gasp as he pops a nipple in his mouth with no warning. You fully believe him with the way he starts sucking and swirling and flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud, all while snapping his hips up harder. 

He pulls back with a pop, looking up at you for approval. “Was that good?”

“Mhm.” There’s a fucked out expression on your face as you weakly nod. “Harder.”

“You want me to fuck you harder?”

“Yeah.” 

Something in him snaps. Eager to please you, he flips you over and folds you underneath him— grabbing the back of your knees and pinning them to your chest so he can drive his cock into you deeper. 

“Better?”

He drives his hips forward again, knocking the air out of your lungs. “God— yes.”

“I can’t— fuck— can’t believe you’re all mine, can’t believe I get to have you,” he starts to ramble as the sounds of him absolutely pounding into you fill the room. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect— all of you.” 

He crashes his lips into yours— the kiss is messy, powered by hunger. Satoru’s always been overwhelming, but it’s been years since it’s been this emotionally intense. He fucks you like he needs you, like he’s been waiting for you all his life. 

Your walls begin to squeeze and flutter around his cock, pulling another groan out of him. “You close?”

“Yeah,” you whine, feeling the pressure begin to coil. “Keep going.”

He’s close too, you can tell by how sloppy his thrusts have grown, no longer trying to control himself as he starts chasing after both of your releases. He shoves his face into the crook of your neck and fucks you faster, harder— balls slapping against your ass with each lewd wet squelch. 

Your orgasm hits you hard after one particularly rough thrust. Scratching at his back as a cry tears through you, and it only goes straight to his dick, not even realizing just how overstimulated you are from the way he drills into you. 

“Fuck.” It’s just one word that comes out of his mouth after realizing how hard he’s about to fucking cum. He bites into your shoulder as his balls start to tighten, squeezing his eyes shut as he braces himself. 

When it happens, it’s a lot. He shoves himself deep inside of you, unaware of all the weight he puts on you as hot spurts of cum begin to flood your walls. Slowly grinding against you, letting your tight pussy milk the rest of him. 

You’re wrecked by the end of it. You both are— lids tired and heavy, bodies sore and out of breath.

And in the end, you just let yourself fall asleep, unaware of the soft kiss pressed against your temple as he watched you.

—

It’s month three, and Satoru doesn’t want to go back. 

What was the point? It’s not like he had anyone or anything to go back to. Jujutsu Society never crumbled from him getting shot into the future. Would it really be that bad if he just never went back and continued on with his life from here?

He hasn’t uttered a word about it out loud, but the way he completely stopped asking Yaga and Ijichi for updates was telling of where he was at mentally.  

Acceptance. 

He likes his life here. 

You’ve come to your own conclusion after these last three months.

No wonder why he was so hot and cold when you were trying to get to know him. Satoru got a little taste of genuine comfort, only for it to be ripped away from him sometime before you two actually met. It explains all the times you wondered why he even tried with you, despite being too emotionally inept to even be in a relationship. He probably went through the beginning of your relationship thinking you could disappear at any second. 

With that being said, he can’t stay here. As much as you’d love to continue being the source of comfort for this version of Satoru, he needs to experience the last year he spent alone before meeting you. He needs to feel cautious around you. He needs to try and fail at opening up a handful of times before getting comfortable with the idea of truly being vulnerable with a person. Getting over that element of fear he had towards getting close to others is what made him a husband and father— he couldn’t just skip that part of his life. 

You have no idea how you’re going to tell him that, though. You’re not one to kick a sick puppy, especially one as cute as him. He’s so happy here with you and Sai that the thought of doing so makes your chest ache. 

He’s having a tea party with Sai right now, limbs way too long to sit in the little stool she pulled up for him to sit in. He drinks imaginary tea from the plastic pink cup she hands him, and your chest aches some more. You force yourself to look away before the tears start. 

You’d do the next 11 years all over again if you could.

“Hey, Honey?” Satoru calls out to you.

There’s a pause before you whip your head around— it’s been months since he’s called you that. There’s nothing but warmth and fondness in his eyes as his gaze meets yours. “Why is Nanami’s number saved under ‘nerd’ in my phone?”

He’s back.

“I don’t know,” you laugh, despite the tear falling down your cheek. “You tell me.”

—

Satoru didn’t want to believe it when everything around him went dark once again. It’s not until his feet touch the ground with a soft thud and he finds himself back in his messy, cold dorm when reality slapped him across the face.

Something between a sob and a gut-wrenching scream rips from his throat. Grabbing the round shades he had hoped he’d never have to fucking wear again, he rips them off his face and sends it crashing into the wall, breaking into a hundred little pieces. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t give himself a chance to even breathe or think before raising his hand and releasing a purple orb with just a flick of his fingers. 

Impulsive. Reckless. Deadly. 

Satoru was fucking devastated. 

Nobody knew what triggered him that night. All they knew was that the east wing of the school looked like it had been hit by an asteroid by the time he calmed down. He didn’t speak to anyone for a good two weeks following the incident. Everyone wants to think he was lucky the explosion didn’t have any casualties, but then they remembered who he was: Satoru fucking Gojo. 

God’s don’t get punished, nor do natural disasters— it’s hard to tell which one he was at this point. 

One Year Later

“If it’s that small of a curse, why are you sending me there?” Satoru continues to argue with one of the new managers over the phone. 

It wasn’t that small of a curse. It was a grade one. But still, given the sorcerer’s title as a special grade, he was overqualified for the job. 

“I’m sorry, we just don’t have anyone available to take on the case at the moment.” The young woman continues to apologize over the phone. “I think we might have a grade 3 available for the job. I- I can check—”

“Save it.” Satoru cuts her off. He wasn’t that heartless to push the case off to some 15 year old. That’s exactly how Haibara died. “Send me the address.” 

The mission was nothing short of an inconvenience for him. He liked a challenge when exorcising curses, and the damn thing didn’t even put up a fucking fight. He traveled 2 hours to get here just for that? Unbelievable. 

He wasn’t ready to leave and sit on a train for another 2 hours just yet, so he decided to walk around the town for a bit. 

It was a cute place, a little quiet. Kinda boring. That’s never a bad thing, though. Lots of mom and pop shops, a few coffee shops scattered around, one of which he decided to try. A little sugar’s always good, at least to him. 

The smell of vanilla and roasted coffee beans hit him as he walked into the place. There was a decent amount of customers inside. Not too much to feel crowded, but enough to stay busy. He keeps his eyes on the menu the entire time. The line moves fast, and he figures out what he wants just in time. 

“And what can I get started for you today?”

His eyes are still on the screen, reading the item off the menu.

“Can I get a white chocolate mocha frappuccino, with an extra pump of…” his words die out, and his eyes widen as he finally looks at the girl taking his order. “Hey.”

“Hi.” You laugh at the way this stranger loses his train of thought. “Extra pump of white chocolate syrup?”

“Yeah.” He exhales, unable to rip his eye off you as you write the words down on the plastic cup with a sharpie. 

“Name for the order?”

“Go– Satoru,” he corrects himself. “It’s Satoru.”

He’s a little awkward, but you still find him quite charming and smile. “Alright, Satoru. Your order should be ready in about 10 minutes.”

“Awesome. Thanks,” he nods rather pathetically, then goes to sit in an empty corner of the shop with only one thought in mind: 

He has 10 minutes to come up with what to say to get your number. 

All rights reserved © 2025 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform. Do not feed my works into ai.

[satomiu]

— pink mist ℘

　18+ ❤︎ . . . ⁠ when a mission with him goes terribly wrong and ends with him deep in your guts...

satoru gojo ℘ fem!sorcerer!reader . . . aphrodisiac ( reader affected ) : reader is kind of mean but he's into it, canon-universe — explicit smut !! oral (fem rec.), fingering, p in v, slight overstim, cock drunk reader, messy confessions, mutual pining, slight brat taming, cocky gojo, reader cries during sex, orgasm denial ( in a way.. ), slight after care, cutetiful ending ♡ w.c 8.2k

you and satoru gojo were partners. best friends even.

in his eyes at least.

no matter how many times you swore you hated him whenever he pissed you off, he was somehow insanely persistent in trying to get you to like him. it was as if riling you up was his love language.

not that you didn’t like him — you did. more than you should. you just didn’t show it very well, per se..

you were kind of like a black cat girlfriend to him, while he was your golden retriever boyfriend. and he knew it. always did. even when he insisted on asking you the stupidest questions:

“so! if i got bit by a snake on my dick, would you suck the venom out to save my life?” ... “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

yeah…

so even if he was the strongest sorcerer alive, he still insisted on tagging along on your missions whenever he could. not because you needed protection—you were perfectly capable of handling yourself—but simply because, according to him, you were his favorite person.

“and you are here again because..?” you hummed, stepping through the warped entrance of the abandoned inn where the special grade cursed object was rumored to be hidden, floorboards creaking softly beneath your feet.

behind you, gojo followed without a shred of caution, hands tucked behind his head like some sort of casual stroll instead of a mission for grade one and above.

he chuckled. “why can’t i? i just wanna spend time with my favorite girl.” his voice tilted into a teasing sing-song. “don’t act like you hate it~”

you stopped and turned to face him.

“im not acting. and since you’re here,” you began flatly, crossing your arms, “why don’t you ... go find whatever it is we’re looking for.”

he gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “i came all this way and yet you decide to dismiss me? i guess they were right…” he sighed, shaking his head. “you truly are a cruel woman.”

your eyes widened and you slapped his chest. “what? whose they?!”

he let out that stupid familiar giggle of his before turning and dashing off in the opposite direction, disappearing down the dark hallway.

“stupid idiot…” you huffed under your breath.

you wandered through the inn for a while, your flashlight sweeping slowly across warped walls and half opened doors as the old hallways creaked with every careful step.

the place smelled like dust and rotting wood, the kind of quiet that made every little noise feel louder than it should be.

you walked endlessly, the hours blurring together as every room you entered stood just as the last—dusty, abandoned, and hollow.

and despite knowing satoru was somewhere nearby, you couldn’t help the small tension settling in your shoulders.

“satoru?” you called once, mostly out of habit.

no response.

rolling your eyes, you continued down the hall, pushing another door open with your foot and flashing the light around the empty room before stepping back into the corridor—only for a voice to suddenly appear right behind you.

“boo.”

you yelped. the sound tore out of you before you could stop it, your flashlight jerking wildly as you spun around to find gojo standing there, already laughing.

god you just wanted to slap that infuriating smirk off his face. or kiss it off. you weren’t exactly sure of anything whenever it came to him…

“satoru!” you snapped, slapping his chest again, warmth spreading in your face from embarrassment. your punches and hits always landed easily, because, for reasons you’d never quite questioned, satoru gojo never kept his infinity up around you.

you dusted yourself off, ignoring the crippling wave of embarrassment that washed over you. “have you seen anything?”

even behind the fabric of his blindfold, it felt like his gaze hadn’t left you. it was always so heavy, unwavering, like he could you and pin you in place with his eyes alone if he really wanted to.

“nope!”

“gosh.. you are seriously useless.” you muttered, walking toward one of the last rooms in the hallway. one where the cursed energy felt strongest.

“well you could try to be nicer to me instead of mouthing off to me all the time, maybe i’d be nicer to you.” he pouted, following right behind you.

“really? be nice? how old are you again???”

in the center of the room sat an old incense box, the wood darkened with age and wrapped loosely in forgotten talismans. you knelt down beside it while gojo leaned against the doorway behind you.

“seriously…?” you murmured, opening the box. a faint pink mist drifted upward, slow and almost pretty in the dim light.

“this is our cursed object? they couldn’t have sent one of the second years? ridiculous.”

the scent that followed was surprisingly sweet and warm, something soft and calming that made you pause for a second longer than you meant to.

you took a breath.

“uh..” gojo spoke suddenly from the doorway, his voice losing some of its usual laziness. “i don't think you should go around sniffing random cursed objects princess.”

you huffed, rolling your eyes. “whatever.. besides, what did i tell you about the pet names?”

“well, i think they're cute.” he hummed, taking the box from your hands, slender, cool fingers brushing briefly against yours before he snapped the box shut with a quiet thud. the sudden shift in his energy left you slightly confused, but he only gave you a reassuring smile like nothing had happened.

“i’ll call ijichi and we’ll be on our way, yeah?”

you nodded slowly, thinking nothing of it.

the two of you waited outside the inn with your arms crossed against the cool night air while gojo paced in loose circles nearby, talking loudly enough into the phone that you could hear half the conversation even from where you stood.

when he finally finished, he stuffed the cursed object into his pocket.

“good news!” he announced. “ijichi said it’ll be handled. bad news is he thinks it’s some weird—”

oh.

satoru's voice softened slightly. “hey.. you okay?”

you blinked at him slowly.

there was a warmth spreading in your stomach that wasn’t there before, a heavy, unfamiliar sensation making your thoughts feel a little slower, a little foggier around the edges. you pushed yourself straighter against the street pole, trying to ignore how your face felt slightly warmer than it should.

especially around gojo out of all people.

“m’fine…” voice small in a way he’d never heard before.

that’s when he noticed it properly.

you, who never slipped. you, who never needed anything from everybody, especially not from him. the weariness and hesitance in your eyes.

“you don’t look very okay..”

he frowned slightly, stepping closer, his hand rested lightly on your arm as he spoke. “you sure? you look sick. if you want i can get us to shoko and—”

and the warmth in your stomach sharpened, more intense than before.

“—no!” you blurted suddenly, louder than you meant to.

gojo blinked.

“sorry,” you said quickly, already turning away from him. “no. i- i’m gonna go home, you can wrap this up.” you huffed, breath more shaky and worn out than you’d like it to be.

the night air clung to your skin, biting and sharp, a stark contrast to the warmth still lingering in your body. the moment hung quiet, too quiet, before gojo shifted closer, spinning you back around gently.

his free hand lifted, cool fingers brushing your cheek as he gently angled your face toward him. the chill of his touch seeped into your warmth, but this time there was nothing casual about it. his movements slowed, more deliberate as he studied you.

his thumb hovered near your cheekbone, lightly turning your face side to side checking for any physical markings as for what was making you act so strange.

“how can you even go home like this? i'm serious, let me.” he muttered under his breath, the usual teasing edge in his voice replaced with worry.

a soft whine slipped from your lips, more reflex than intentional, and you immediately swatted his hand away—half protest, half instinct—breaking the contact as you huffed in quiet defiance.

“i’m serious too.” annoyance bubbled in your chest, turning on your heel and storming off into the night, leaving behind a very confused satoru.

+ ❤︎ ℘

as soon as you got home, you showered.

once.

then twice.

letting the cold water run over your skin until your fingers went slightly numb and your breathing felt slower under the steady hiss of the faucet. the warmth in your stomach didn’t leave. it only sat there stubbornly, dull and heavy like something pressing quietly beneath your thoughts.

you turned the water colder, leaning your forehead briefly against the tiled wall, trying to focus on anything else — the sound of water hitting the floor, the faint echo of your own breathing in the empty bathroom — but every time you closed your eyes you kept remembering the way he had touched your arm earlier, light and warm and far too distracting to shake off.

fuck.

it felt like your body couldn’t settle no matter what you tried, you changed into the lightest, thinnest clothes you had, hoping the strange heat under your skin would ease even a little bit.

but it didn’t.

satoru had been pacing the emptied out office ever since you went home, anxiety slowly gnawing at the back of his mind. it had been hours—no call, no text, nothing at all—and even though he told himself you were probably just resting.

the silence felt wrong.

so when his phone finally lit up with your name and his favorite photo of the two of you: where you had fallen asleep and slumped against his shoulder on the train back home, cheek squishing against his chest — his heart fluttered with a pang of hope before he answered.

“hey, i was just thinking of you,” he said when he picked up, voice instantly softening. “did you get home safely?”

he frowned when you didn’t answer right away. “uh, helloooo?”

on the other end of the line, you were clutching your phone tightly, his voice alone making the strange warmth in your chest feel sharper, harder to ignore.

“satoru—” you called, practically moaning out his name, breath uneven. body burning in embarrassment and taut with need as you buried your face into the arm of your couch, the scratchy fabric pressing against your sweaty forehead.

“i’ve tried everything. my fingers, my fucking shower head, my vibrator–” you whined, voice strained as you couldn’t stop yourself from blubbering everything out to him.

“i just— s’no use.” you wailed in defeat. the way your top brushed against your overly sensitive nipples each time you moved, the way your panties rubbed against your throbbing clit — it was all so overbearing, you couldn’t even think properly.

poor satoru couldn’t help but feel like a pervert.

the image of your legs spread, cunt swollen and fluttering around nothing, desperate to relieve the ache... just front and center in his mind, making his chest flutter. and well..

his dick throb in his trousers.

“hey, hey,” he said quickly, doing his best to ignore the slow strain against fabric. “it’s alright. what do you need me to do?”

“can you come over? please.”

the words were quiet, but they carried a weight he understood immediately.

not just any “come over.”

that kind of “come over.”

“be there in ten.”

“no.” you said immediately, voice stubborn and a little whiny. “five.”

he huffed quietly on the other end of the line.

“…fine. i’ll be there in three.”

you could’ve swore you heard the man smirking as he spoke.

truthfully, satoru wasn’t sure he had ever moved this fast in his life. he made a quick stop at a 24 hour convenience store on the way to yours.

if whatever this shit was had you asking for his help and using your manners???? it had to have been serious.

he avoided eye contact with the elderly lady at the register while she scanned his items, a faint beep cutting through the silence.

his items of choice?

a container of your favorite flavored mochi’s.

for you! post sex..

and a box of xl condoms.

also.. for you.. during sex.. if the two of you were to have sex that is.

soon enough, satoru was standing at your front door in just about two minutes, thanks to his inhuman abilities of course.

he was also a man who, annoyingly enough, did stick to his word.

he knocked once.

no answer.

he was about to knock again when the door suddenly swung open, revealing you standing there. a soft sheen of sweat on your skin, eyebrows knitted together in irritation—or arousal—lips stubbornly pouting while your body was enveloped by one of his worn out shirts with some faded digimon print on it—the same one he had left at your house last time he was there.

worn because you likely wanted to hide the fact you only had panties on under there.

“you said three minutes,” you said, frowning up at him

“yes. and i got here in two princess.” his tone was light, but his gaze dipped briefly below your chest, taking in the scene in front of him.

normally, his pet names pissed you off. so what the hell was this? why were you getting lightheaded??

“…is that my shirt?” he hummed, unable to fully hide the amusement threading through his voice, a grin already tugging at his lips, “—where exactly are your pants?”

you let out a groan, already regretting calling him in the first place. “it’s too hot for anything else.” you muttered, pulling the fabric of the shirt down a little.

as if that would make a difference…

you glanced down at the bag in his hand, raising an eyebrow, ignoring the way your pussy throbbed maddeningly at the sight and faint smell of him.

he noticed the shift.

of course he did.

his head tilted just slightly, quietly piecing together a thought he didn’t bother to say out loud, the corner of his mouth tugging up in quiet amusement.

“it’s stuff for you, don’t worry about it,” he spoke with a small, reassuring smile.

he stepped inside fully, the door clicking shut behind him as he locked it without a second thought.

“you’re gonna listen to me for a bit, yeah?”

his voice was light. easy. infuriatingly so.

his hand came up anyway, despite the fact you usually punched him if he tried, tilting your chin just enough to make sure you were looking at him.

his touch softened, less insistent now, more reassuring than anything.

“don’t get shy on me now,” he murmured, voice dipping just enough to make your breath catch.. “what is it you want?”

your breath hitched. “i… i wanna see you. please.” you mewled, embarrassed at how such a low level curse made your libido and sex drive skyrocket – to a point beyond your control.

he caught on right away.

slowly, he lifted his blindfold and unraveled it, the fabric falling away in one smooth motion. his blue eyes were clearer now without the barrier, sharp but unusually soft when they settled on you, the loose strands of his hair framing his face in a way that made your chest tighten.

you didn’t think about what was to come next. couldn’t, really.

the words died somewhere between your thoughts and your tongue, and before your mind caught up, you grabbed him by the collar, pulling him closer on pure instinct, locking your lips with his in a bruising kiss.

one large hand shot up instinctively, steadying you, while his eyes fluttered shut for a split second. he leaned down, meeting your eager lips.

he caught himself with ease, grip on you firm but controlled. satoru had always been ready for anything… just not that.

as you clung to his jacket, satoru tossed the bag aside—quick, almost careless in its urgency.

with his blindfold gone, his sharp gaze met yours without anything in the way. one hand settled on your hip, firm enough to steady you, but gentle in its hold—quietly letting you take the lead, giving you exactly what you needed.

you pushed him back until the couch hit the back of his knees, forcing him to drop down onto it with a soft thud, instantly following him down, settling on top of him.

a soft grunt slipped from him as you crashed into him, your whole body shuddering before you buried your face into the crook of his neck, trying to regain some form of self control.

you let out an embarrassingly loud moan as you slotted yourself right over his clothed cock, warmth seeping through the point of contact and spreading throughout your body.

“fuck… m'sorry toru,” you groaned, your face burning with embarrassment, frustration, and something you couldn’t name.

his breath hitched. toru…? well that was new.

he blinked, caught off guard, a grin threatening to slip past his composure. fingers tightening just enough on your hip, not to control, just… to keep you upright.

“…toru, huh?” his voice was low, teasing, but there was something raw beneath it, something he barely recognized in himself.

his smile dropped slightly when you didn’t indulge in his teasing.

“hey… look at me,” he hummed, gently tilting your head up, his finger resting lightly under your chin as he guided your face toward his. “don’t apologize, okay? aphrodisiacs aren’t that bad… you just need a bit of help is all.”

his hands settled at your waist to steady you, thumb brushing lightly against your sides as he met your gaze.

your eyes kept avoiding his, unable to settle. he noticed, gently tilting your chin up once more to meet him halfway.

“nuh uh—eyes on me, princess,” he murmured. “i’ll only do anything you want,” he hummed, booping your nose, making you blink abruptly.

“now tell me,” his teasing tone returned, though his gaze remained attentive. “this you or that cursed thing talkin'?”

you scanned his face rapidly, heat pooling in your stomach, growing heavier the closer he leaned. his large hands molded against your curves with ease, and his scent—soft, yet intoxicating—made it impossible to think straight.

“i—” you tried, but the word caught uselessly in your throat.

he cocked his head to the side, gaze sharp behind the faintest smirk. “don’t tell me you’ve gone all shy on me...” he murmured, his thumb pressing soft, steady strokes against your hip. “you were just mouthing off to me a couple of seconds ago.”

your grip on his shirt tightened immediately.

“yes—fuck, it’s me talking, satoru!”

his gaze lingered on you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “yeah… i know,” he murmured softly. “that’s my girl. we’ll go at your pace.”

you groaned, still visibly annoyed, though the edge in your voice gave you away. “you don't need to coddle me satoru…” you muttered, pout lingering.

he let out a quiet breath, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “sorry for trying to play nice,” he murmured, though there was no real bite to it. “don’t wanna break you sweetheart... now c’mere.”

his hand slipped to the back of your head, steadying you as he kissed you first. slow, deliberate, giving you time to change your mind.

a chance to back out.

you let out a sigh as his lips met yours again, hands gripping at his jacket, entire body on fire as your hips moved on their own, gently grinding against him.

a purr of delight rumbled inside his throat as your hands hiked up underneath his shirt, tongues brushing against each other in tandem. you moaned into his mouth as his hands found your hips, rolling you against him, firmer than you had been doing — an attempt to ease the raging pool of arousal in you.

and only after a long, quiet moment did he pull back just enough to breathe, eventually (and regrettably) pulling from your lips, a string of saliva bridging the gap between you two. his forehead still hovered near yours, close enough to feel every shallow inhale you took.

“please… toru,” you whispered, voice small, urgent, almost trembling. “i need it…” grinding down on him once more, a spark of warmth building up and throughout your nerves.

he let out a quiet, breathy chuckle, tilting his head at you.

“mouth or fingers then?”

…

“w-what?”

you fumbled over your words, the need coiling tight in your chest, twisting sharper with every second he kept teasing.

if anything, it only made you wetter.

“w-w-what?” he echoed, a quiet laugh slipping out. “you heard me. mouth or fingers—pick.”

“now’s not the time to be fucking around, you dickhead,” you bit out, your voice tighter than you meant it to be.

you hated it—hated how he was still trying to be playful when you felt like you were falling apart inside.

he always knew exactly which buttons to push.

and somehow, you always reacted anyway.

“fucking around? i just want to be thorough.” his voice low but not unkind.

…

“h-hands…” you muttered, barely getting the word out, eyes refusing to meet his.

he let out a soft chuckle, clearly entertained, canines catching in the dim moonlight that creeped in through the cracked curtains. “there it is,” he murmured. “see? that wasn’t so hard.”

he hummed, a faint smile playing at his lips, canines catching the dim light.

“though, i was hoping you’d aim higher.” — making you roll your eyes with a heavy scoff.

normally, you’d tell him off. tell the six-eyed freak to go fuck himself.

but not tonight.

tonight was different.

he shifted slightly, guiding you with careful, deliberate movements until your back rested against the arm of the couch, lowering himself to his knees in front of you.

your thighs pressed together instinctively, a small whimper slipping out as if you could hide from him—hide how badly you really wanted it.

“c’mon… what'd i say about getting shy?” he murmured.

“can’t help you if you’re hiding from me pretty.” his grip shifted, and with an almost unfair ease, he used just the span of his hand—thumb and pinky guiding your legs apart, your slick having already soaked through the thin cotton of your panties.

if you knew satoru gojo was going to be fingering you until you came all over his hands tonight… then you definitely would’ve worn something a lot cuter.

maybe something silky, with lace around the edges, something easy to slip off.

but it’s not like he minded.

his breath caught in his throat. “…fuck,” whispering under his breath. and for a brief moment, his usual composure slipped. his gaze lingering just a second longer than before..

he was just so fucking obsessed with you.

with one slender digit, he hooked your panties, knuckle slightly grazing your entrance, collecting some of your slick along his knuckle. he pushed your panties aside with a slow, careful motion. exposing your sopping cunt to the cool night air.

after about a minute of tense silence, he hadn’t even realized he’d been gawking at your pussy. he couldn’t help himself. the way it was practically leaking, every curve, every clench.

so fucking pretty…

“satoru!”

he blinked, dragged back to the moment, and after a brief pause, finally looked up at you, a faint chuckle escaping.

“heh… sorry.” his voice steadied again. “just tell me if it feels good, okay?”

and with that, he inserted two of his slender digits past your wet folds, your juices coating his fingers entirely as he slipped in and out of you. a loud, sinful ‘shlick’ shattering the quiet of your living room.

your jaw went slack and your eyelids fluttered shut instantly with a loud moan as he angled them deep inside you, occasionally curling up and reaching spots you couldn’t even dream of reaching yourself—whining each time he did so.

you reached for the nearest couch cushion and pulled it over your face, attempting to muffle your moans, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

you weren’t normally vocal in bed. you had no reason to be, not with others or when you got off on your own.

you couldn’t tell if it was satoru’s effect on you… or just the curse wearing you down. everything felt contradictory, like it shouldn't make sense.

and yet… it did.

it felt wrong and right all at once, as if somehow, he was the only one meant to see you like this.

it just felt so good. so perfect.

you bit your lip, holding back a sob, trying to ignore the aching in your tummy temporarily ceased to make way to utter bliss as waves of pleasure wash over you.

his free hand lifted, fingers catching the edge of the cushion. he didn’t yank it away.. instead, he tugged it down slowly, giving you a chance to stop him.

but you didn't.

“you’re doing a terrible job of hiding from me, you know that?” he hummed, tossing the cushion somewhere behind him.

“such a messy girl..” he added, adoration oozing through his voice. the way your cunt refused to let go of his fingers was almost hypnotizing, his knuckles glistening in whatever light came through the curtains, covered in your wetness.

“better than your own?” he hummed.

though it may have come across as condescending in practice, there was a hint of concern underneath it. his tone softened just enough to reveal something more genuine beneath the usual teasing edge.

“t-toru… fuck,” you whined, tears already brimming at the corners of your eyes. “yes! somuchbetter.” mewling as he continued to work your pussy open.

his smirk widened, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“you mean that?” he asked, tone playful, cocky, as if daring you to take it back.

he wasn’t going to let you live that down.

not ever.

“hmm… that good, huh?” he murmured, leaning just a little closer, thumbs brushing at your waist, letting you feel him, letting you know he knew exactly what he was doing.

“you sound way too easy to please, princess.”

“please. just. shut. up— hngh–!”

your complaints died in your throat, as an unexpected stretch pulled at you, sharp and delicious, and you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped.

satoru had added another digit.

“gojo—” you choked. “toru! w-wait—” writhing against his grip, mind going fuzzy.

without a second thought, his other arm wrapped around your thigh, hand slithering down with deliberate ease, thumb circling your clit with a quick light hand, making you arch into the couch. moans getting louder with each press and swipe.

“i take it you like it?” hummed, curling all three his fingers up against you, his fingers grazing a perfect spot inside you, vision going hazy as your pussy clenching desperately around his digits, refusing to let go.

“hah… easy…” he hummed, watching the way your body tensed under him.

there weren’t enough words in any dictionary to capture how overwhelming it all felt.

too urgent, yet the perfect pace.

like it had been building far longer than you’d like to admit. everything amplified beyond reason, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed.

you needed this. needed him.

but still… it wasn’t enough. the aphrodisiac clawed at your senses, twisting every nerve into ache and frustration rather than pleasure.

“toru… please… i can’t—” you gasped, desperation lacing every word, trembling against him.

huh…

normally, this would have anyone else gasping and cumming in seconds, he was satoru gojo afterall.

this shit really was taking a number on you.

not that it mattered to gojo. he could keep up just fine.

“yeah… yeah.. of course you cant” he murmured underneath his breath. “you always this hard to handle?”

“j-just stop talking. so fucking—annoying.”

“annoying??” he huffed, warm breath ghosting your cunt.

“i’m hurt. thought you’d have something better for me than that princess.” a low purr escaped him as he brought his fingers to his mouth, savoring the evidence of you as his lips glided over them, tongue insistently circling around his digits, all while making eye contact with you.

every nerve in his body ached. he’d waited for this moment for so long. too long.

his thighs clenched underneath his slacks, his dick pressing up against his zipper, a painfully obvious bulge in his pants.

but he ignored it, for you.

the only thing on his mind was making you feel good. he could handle himself later; right now?

it was all about you.

the couch groaned beneath him as he leaned in, arms snaking around your thighs, yanking you down to his waiting face.

and without a second thought his plush lips latched onto your cunt. his tongue lapped up your juices, slipping in between your folds, eagerly exploring your velvet walls. “oh– satoru!”, you moaned, voice coming out cracked and quiet, eyes snapping shut in pleasure.

you choked on a sob as his tongue dipped lower, teasing your hole, completely drunk on how sweet you tasted. he fought back a smile as he practically made out with your pussy, working you open with his tongue before dragging upwards, tongue pressing flat onto your clit.

you sobbed again, hands flinging down to his messy white strands while he tucked his arms under your thighs.

tighter.

harder.

as if you were trying to run.

well… maybe because you were.

he lifted your hips to meet his mouth. your thighs trembled as your small whimpers filled up the room.

he was good at this. too fucking good.

you gasped, arching against him, brain melting into pure chaos.

tears brimmed at your water line as your body trembled, betraying just how far gone you were.

you tugged on his hair, some sort of signal that you were close. or so you thought.

your pussy pulsed under his tongue as he continued to lap at your hole. tongue swirling faster. the occasional digit plunging inside you over, and over, and over, juices coating his entire hand.

his cock achingly hard, pressing into the couch — the small friction relieving the ache in his pants.

you were certainly going to have a talk with him. about where the hell he learned all this, how he always gets it right, and why it feels like he knows your body better than you do…

you were so out of it, you hadn’t even realized he’d been speaking until a low, humming vibration shot through your body.

“good?” he murmured, muffled by your puffed up folds, reinforced by the soft slurp of him drinking you up.

when you finally forced your eyes open, satoru was already staring straight into you—bright blue eyes cutting through the dim room like he’d been waiting for this exact moment the entire time.

normally. such a sight would've made you cum immediately.

you had the strongest sorcerer on his knees… for you. every movement, every sound he drew from you, made your chest tighten, and your mind screamed at you: how the hell is this happening?

but the loudest thought pounding through your dazed brain was simple.

more.

your thighs began to quiver, hot tears of frustration spilling down your cheeks before you slapped your hands over your face—and out of his hair—letting out a frustrated groan.

your body didn’t wanna let you come.

it was the same thing over and over again: the pleasure built, warmth spreading, but no peak. it was never enough.

normally, crying in front of someone didn’t faze you—no one would believe them if they tried to say otherwise. so why did it feel different with satoru?

he noticed immediately, a wet pop breaking the quiet as he paused, wiping his face with his sleeve, leaving a dark mark on the navy fabric. his eyes met yours as he rose to his knees, eyebrows furrowed as he took in your flushed, trembling body.

“fuck… was it too much? i—”

“fuck me.”

he froze, eyes wide. “what?”

you sat up on your elbows, cheeks wet with tears, lips red from biting down on them so much.

it was so incredibly sexy.

“need your cock— toru. fuck me.”

he blinked once, them twice. “well, that escalated real fast..” he murmured. “you sure about that angel? or are you just talking all big again?”

“do it.”

“bold,” he chuckled under his breath. “but i didn’t hear a ‘please’,” a faint smirk forming. “try again, sweetheart.”

you groaned, hands gripping into the couch, brows furrowing.

“please.” you deadpanned.

“pretty please with a—”

“satoru!!”

he broke into a quiet laugh, clearly entertained, shoulders easing as he looked at you again. “alright, alright,” he murmured, still smiling. “you don’t have to shout.”

“where do you want it? here or—”

“—bed. now please.”

without another word, he scooped you up in his arms, carrying you effortlessly and placing you gently onto the mattress.

he leaned over you, slotting himself in between your legs caging you in completely, capturing your lips in a messy bruising kiss.

he pulled away from you, leaving you panting, that maddening, insufferable flutter in your stomach returning tenfold.

in one swift motion, he stripped off his uniform, tossing it somewhere across your room, revealing a chest and arms sculpted like they’d been carved from stone.

every muscle was defined, taut and powerful, a perfect balance of strength and sleekness. his shoulders were broad, his biceps solid yet flexible, his torso a masterclass in controlled power.

even the faint line of his abs beneath the pale skin hinted at raw endurance.

underneath all those fabrics, satoru gojo was full muscle. a sleeper build if you’d ever seen one.

he couldn’t help but let out a low, amused chuckle as you shamelessly ogled him, eyes wide and stomach twisting.

his gaze lingered on you as he exhaled a quiet chuckle.

“go ahead, princess. it’s all yours.”

you let out a small whimper, pushing yourself up onto your knees, hands instinctively finding his waistband.

your hands trembled slightly as you gripped the waistband, tugging slowly, deliberately. every motion was careful, teasingly slow, letting satoru see exactly how desperate you were, every second stretching out, electric with tension.

his eyes stayed locked on you, bright and sharp, a small smile tugging at his lips. the way he watched you… it made your pulse race even faster, stomach fluttering with anticipation.

after a shaky moment, you finally succeeded, the last piece sliding free under your fingers. you froze mid-motion.

“hello kitty… boxers…?”

your eyes widened, staring up at him.

“what? i have class.” he said, utterly unfazed.

you couldn’t believe you were about to fuck this idiot.

he hummed, interrupting your thought process. “hold on, let me go get something.”

you shot up instantly, grabbing his wrist. “what could you possibly need right now??”

“err… condoms?” he hummed, tilting his head innocently.

condoms.

“satoru. are you fucking serious?” you barked, frustrated and need overriding all rational thought.

“well… yes!” he huffed. “gotta be safe, princess.”

with a sharp tug on the waistband of his boxers, you pulled him forward, and suddenly he was hovering over you again, chest just above yours, a flash of surprise in his bright eyes.

“i’m on the pill,” you murmured, eyes glinting with unadulterated lust. “don’t worry about it.”

he paused for a moment, letting out a low hum. “god… you really are something.” he spoke, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

then, with a soft, deliberate movement, he pulled back slightly, settling on his knees and locking eyes with you—cocky, amused, and just a little surprised by how bold you were.

he dipped his thumbs into the corners of his boxers, tugging them down completely, his hardened cock coming up with a ‘thwack’ to his stomach.

it looked borderline painful… his tip was a crimson red, clear rivulets of precum dangling off, threatening to hit the sheets beneath.

the weight of it was unmistakable. large, thick, and traced with faint veins that made him feel even more…

big.

it was almost impossible to ignore—you couldn’t help but stare, eyes tracing every twitch, pulse, and everything in between. unsure if you should laugh at the absurdity or flat out cry...

he dipped back down over you, close enough that you could feel his breath fan across your skin, his cock sliding in between your folds, the tip occasionally nudging against your clit, a small squish each time he made contact.

“say the word,” he murmured. “and we stop.”

you shook your head almost immediately, breath uneven.

“does it look like i wanna stop?” wrapping your arms around his neck for support.

his brows lifted slightly, then relaxed as a small smile tugged at his lips.

“fair point. didn’t think you’d be this eager.” he murmured. “…but you tell me if that changes, alright?”

and with that, he lined himself up with your entrance, making your breath hitch in your throat. he tilts your chin up slightly, just enough to meet his gaze, eyes sharp with focus.

“eyes on me pretty.. it's a big stretch.”

he slowly pushes in, inch after inch, your pussy swallowing him entirely, the two of you choking up in unison as he bottomed out inside you.

he filled you up entirely. cunt already spasming around him, nails digging into his back leaving small red crescents.

he was so close you could feel every exhale, every uneven beat of his heart—like it was syncing with yours. and he felt it too.

“fuck—” he choked, voice rougher than before. “are you okay? can i move?”

“satoru.”

“alright, alright…” he huffed, a breath of a laugh slipping through. his forehead dipped closer to yours, lips brushing the air between you.

“so bratty…” he murmured. “maybe i should stop going easy on you.”

“oh please, like you—mmph!”

he silenced you with a hard thrust, knocking the wind out of you.

then another.

and another...

they started coming back to back, all perfectly timed.

and for a minute, neither of you said anything.

the only sounds were the occasional whine from you, a groan from him, and the soft smacks of his sack against the curve of your ass as he gradually sped up finding his rhythm, a white ring already forming around the base of his cock.

lewd thwaps bounced off the walls, filling up the room, his eyes locked onto yours, sharp and unblinking, lips a breath away from your own.

a faint smirk tugged at his lips as he tilted his head, his hand finding the flesh of your hip, voice low and teasing, tickling the shell of your ear.

“this what you needed?” he hummed, lengthy cock stirring up your insides. “hm? some dick—hah—just to make this pretty pussy feel better?”

“satoru—” a pathetic whine ripped through your throat as his mushroom tip grazed one of your sweet spots, picking up his pace, your tits bouncing upwards with each slam, digimon shirt covered in sweat and the smell of sex.

“shh, m’gonna take care of you baby, gonna take care of this pretty pussy, gonna feel so nice..” he hummed, teeth grazing your pulse point.

and unfortunately, you couldn’t deny it.

you felt every inch of him, every movement, and it was impossible to ignore. you always felt this way with him—like the world had narrowed down to nothing but heat and sparks. your vision danced, stars bursting behind your eyes, heart racing, completely undone.

he always made you feel good.

this time it was just with his dick.

your sopping cunt squeezed down on his cock, as if trying to milk him, simply refusing to let go each time he pulled back away from you.

he choked on a laugh, eyes flicking down at you, lips twitching with amusement. “s-so needy…” he murmured.

you tugged him down, just enough to bury your face in the crook of his neck.

he fucked you so good. almost too good.

you weren’t surprised, he was satoru gojo after all. your arms curled around him, clinging tighter, while your body pressed closer, desperate for every inch of contact you could get.

“been thinking about you for so fucking long.” he grunted, the slaps of his hips knocking into you, the force sending waves of shock throughout the meat of your ass. “always wanted you on my cock, to be mine—”

your legs wrapped around his waist, pressing into him instinctively, pushing him deeper inside you. every small movement pressed your bodies together, your arms clinging tight as you let out soft huffs of breathless laughter, face buried in the crook of his neck.

he let out a soft, almost pathetic whimper, chest rising rapidly. “fuck… feel what you do to me baby?” he hummed, pressing a large hand over your tummy, pressing down so that he could feel his cock inside you, drawing out pathetic syrupy moans from you.

his voice was rough. strained.

and just low enough to send shivers down your spine.

satoru was in heaven. the way you clamped down on him refusing to let go of him. the way his cock slid in an’ out of you with ease — a loud wet squelch echoing each time, length completely covered in your juices, the soft sheen of his cock blinding him every time he pulled out of you, just to slam back into you once more.

so wet… and so… nasty.

and all for him.

your mouth went slack, drool pooling at the corner, threatening to spill over. he couldn't help but let out a sharp laugh.

who knew that all you needed was a little bit of dick to act right?

every touch sent shivers down your spine, every stroke of his cock made your pussy flutter helplessly, the way his cock filled you up was so… perfect. his tip grazed every nook and cranny of your walls, a white froth coating your folds and dripping down his sack as they slammed into you.

it was all too much. your folds were puffy from hours of torture pleasure: his slender digits working you open, his tongue lapping up at your cunt like a man starved. and now. this. fucking you so good as if he was trying to imprint himself into every part of you.

you couldn’t even form a proper sentence, just blubbering and whining about how good he felt, how big he was. he pressed down on you further, pressing you into the mattress as he slammed into you, curving up right into your sweet spot.

“such a good girl.. so perfect for me…” he breathed out, eyes locked on you

“ngh!— satoru– pleaseplease–” you whined helplessly, lips finding his flesh, biting down softly to muffle your moans and cries.

“look at youuu…” he murmured, pressing a small kiss to your sweaty forehead.

“so fuckin’ cute. gonna cum all over my cock like the pretty little princess you are?” crooning, as if he wasn't drunk off you and you alone.

he let out an absurd laugh, sharp and breathless, like he couldn’t believe how much he was unraveling under you. “m’close already.. you’re giving me a bad rep here..”

he looked down at you, expecting some sort of answer—only to be met by a small glare, or at least what you were trying to manage. your eyes were hazy, brows scrunched up, and it was laughably pathetic, but in the best way.

he let out a soft huff of laughter.

“right… sorry,” he murmured, smirk tugging at his lips at the fact his dick rendered you speechless.

“f-fuck— toru, m’close—” you whined, burying your face into him, squeezing your eyes shut.

he pulled back just enough to get a good look at your face, taking in the tremble of your lips, the warmth radiating from your cheeks, the sweat glistening off your skin…

so fucking pretty.

“don’t hide that pretty face from me, angel… i wanna see you,” he murmured, placing sloppy kisses along your neck and jaw.

you couldn’t help it—breath coming in short, uneven huffs, eyes locking onto his as if begging for more. your hands curled around his shoulders, clutching him tightly, legs instinctively wrapping closer, pushing him deeper into you.

he chuckled low and absurdly, leaning in so your faces were inches apart, breath mingling. “there you are… see? wanna see your face when you cum all over my cock.”

small, desperate whines escaped your lips, soft and almost helpless, and every tiny movement pressed you harder into him, “satoru—”

before you could react, he cut you off with a bruising kiss, noses knocking together, lips pressing hard and claiming, stealing your breath. your hands fisted against him, pulling him closer, while your legs instinctively curled around his waist, clinging like you couldn’t get enough.

he dragged his tongue from your bottom lip, down to your chin, before placing a sloppy kiss right below it. his hand slid down from your hip, his thumb carelessly found your clit — pressing hard firm circles making you cry out, his hips stuttering and becoming sloppy.

“…fuck… i love you, so perfect f'me” he gasped, voice raw and trembling, eyes locked on yours like he couldn’t look away.

the warmth in your stomach multiplied tenfold, spreading through every nerve and pulse.

“w-what?” you choked dumbly, voice trembling, before your body betrayed you and locked up, every muscle tightening as if it couldn’t handle him.

your orgasm had snuck up on you, hitting you like a truck.

your pussy spasmed helplessly as your lips pressed into a thin line, eyes crossing into each other as all the air got knocked into your lungs, toes curling uselessly in the air.

“that’s ittt...” he purred, smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you shiver, rolling his hips against yours.

soon enough, his own orgasm came rushing up on him, choking on a soft gasp as thick hot rivulets of his seed spilled out inside you.

rocking his hips back and forth, slow and controlled, pubic bone crushing down on you, burying his cock as deep as it can go.

his body locked up over you, thick white ropes still spilling out inside you, his balls clenching until they completely emptied out inside of you.

you slowly regained your senses, breath heaving, the warmth in your tummy slowly dying.

for a quiet moment, the two of you just stayed there, hearts racing in unison. he pulled out of you slowly, thick warmth slowly rolling out from your cunt.

he practically collapsed on top of you for a brief second before rolling onto his back, pulling you with him as he leaned back against the headboard, instinctively settling you on top of him. your head resting on his bare chest, listening to the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath you..

his hand reached for a nearby throw blanket, careful not to move you too much, dragging it up and over the two of you, covering you both as he settled you against his side.

as your chest rose and fell against his, his touch lingering in your hair, soft and grounding

he let out a small cough.

“did it work?” brow quirking as he glanced down at you.

“uh-huhh,” you croaked out, chest still rising and falling fast, eyes still hazy and utterly exhausted.

another quiet minute passed, him absently stroking your face and tracing lazy patterns along your back.

“i got you mochi,” he spoke softly, his gentle caresses not ceasing.

you lifted your head from his chest like a newborn just learning how to use their motor skills for the first time.

“you did…?”

“mhm… thought it'd make you feel better.. though it might have melted. you didn’t give me a chance to put it in the freezer.” he added with a small chuckle.

“i hate you…” you groaned, plopping your head back onto his chest.

“don’t think you’re off the hook, satoru.” you slurred, poking his cheek lightly.

“wouldn’t dream of it, princess,” he murmured, smirk tugging at his lips, thumb idly tracing along your arm.

“soooo..” he began, brimming with way too much energy for what he just put you through, practically vibrating on the spot. “this means you'll go on a date with me right?”

you blinked up at him, lazy and teasing, then simply patted his cheek.

“don't make it weird.” you hummed, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“i didn't even get to say anything weird..” he pouted incredulously.

“don't have to.”

“date me. please.”

“you seriously are so annoying.”

“considering we just had sex, i can't possibly be that annoying.”

...

with a roll of your eyes, you pressed a small, fleeting kiss to his cheek. the soft press of your lips lingered longer than you intended.

despite your gruff exterior, your heart was pounding in your chest, betraying just how flustered you actually were.

“fine. only one,” you muttered, trying to sound indifferent, though it was clearly a lie.

he blinked, smirk tugging at his lips, eyes glinting with amusement. “hm… i’ll take it,” he said, voice low and playful, tugging you a little closer as if to savor the moment.

he leaned in close, whispering conspiratorially, “you know, one of these days, i’m gonna get you to confess your undying love for me.”

your breath choked up — “dont get greedy.” you huffed before laying back down against him, your cheek squishing against his bare chest.

he pulled you closer, fingers lazily tickling your back.

you were perfect.

absolutely perfect.

❤︎ inspired by this tweet by @baobei-bu . . . more likes && reblogs appreciated ໒꒰ྀི っ ⸝⸝ ˂ ꒱ྀིა !

[sugurusbeloved]

★ MDNI | your husband hates tongue kisses

satoru is already whimpering before you even duck your head down; that small, reedy whine spilling from his pillowy lips whenever things aren't going his way. his skull is pinned all the way back against the headboard, iridescent eyes glaring at you with a childish, petulant stubbornness.

“c’monnnn sweets, don’t do that… it’s weird,” your husband mumbles, his fingers twitching where they’re embedded in the meat of your thighs, securing your hips down onto his lap. “it’s just wet muscle, no? nothing special...”

but this stagnant cockwarming is pure agony; his thick, pulsing heat is filled to capacity within you, yet today, t feels somewhat insufficient. you crave a more vicious internal shift from your spouse, knowing just how much force it takes to shatter that paper-thin grip he has on himself.

ignoring his protests, you fist your fingers in his fluffy white hair, yanking his head forward to smother his mouth with yours. satoru lets out a muffled groan full of exasperation, his frame locking up, but you offer no reprieve. you part your lips and shove your tongue deep into his maw, slathering it across his teeth eagerly as if to fuse your bodies into one—fluids included.

ovverstimulation wrings him out, turning his spine to jelly and his buffy thighs to unstrung bows as you force him to swallow the pooling excess of your combined saliva. it is a grotesque violation of his sterile world he polishes so obsessively, and the utter humiliation of how much ecstasy it brings to his poor heart paints his cheeks a painful crimson.

“mnh—wait a minute!!” his gasp bleeds into your mouth, six-eyes weeping from pure overload while a sullen pout rests on his lips. “i swear—it tickles me...”

yet, the degrading rush of blood goes straight to his groin. beneath your pelvic bone, you feel the sudden, predatory surge of your husband's cock gorging itself on his arousal, thickening and elongating until he is stretching your walls past their absolute limits. he is quaking, his mind drunk on a single kiss from his beloved wife, slender fingers clawing into your hips with a miserable zeal as he fights the sudden thought that forms in his mind—

he can fill your womb just as you mercilessly filled his mouth.

is it too obvious that ive never kissed someone orrr

[piixsuke]

18+ bf!katsuki bakugo wants to be you personal 'handy man'

"this what you did all day, hm?"

you whine - eyes rolling into the deepest part of your skull, as two of his slender fingers trace the precise arch etched into your spine. he buries his hands into the plush of your hips, dragging your body implausibly closer to his crazed, animalistic thrusts.

"workin'? bein' all self-reliant and shit? — oh, fuuuck" his hips brutally stuttered against the bare, jiggly flesh of your ass as the doughy, gummy texture of your walls, quivered all around him. "assembling shit that I should've built for you?" he snarls, sending his open palm straight into the smooth, pristine surface of the newly assembled vanity.

one of his massive hands sails over your unclothed body. his fingers roam freely over your flesh - trailing candid, intricate patterns all over you.

you gasp, slowly grinding your ass back into his pelvis, the moment he frames your throat in his hand. "mhm, my independent girl," he murmurs, fixating his crimson orbs over the frantic, almost desperate motions of your ass. "bein' fucked so good aaall over her hard fuckin' work" suddenly, he snaps. closing his fingers, in a barbaric hold, around your neck, he forces your torso away from the vanity - guiding your back straight into his chest. "but, it doesn't work like that now, does it?"

you're forced to look into the small, circular mirror. your bottom lip trapped beneath the weight of your teeth, as his scarred hand slowly dips in between your parted thighs.

"you call me," his middle and ring finger feebly move onto your swollen nub - drawing faint, almost torpid circles all over your clit. "from now on, you fuckin' call me" he drawls, emphasising every word with a wicked, cruel drag of his hips. "you rely on me — fuuck, 'cause I got you, baby — shit, allow me to be your goddam man, yeah?"

heat coils like venomous flames in your stomach. you eyes slam shut, as the real meaning concealed behind his words merge into the massive weight of his thrusts.

"need to hear you," he practically whines, hiding his reddening face into the crook of your neck. "say it back to me. say you'll let me in — nngh! — say you'll need me — fuckfuck, just say it, baby"

[a11eya]

TITLE: do you still think about me?

PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

SUMMARY: Okay, so you had the biggest, most embarrassing crush on Bakugou when you were both in high school. He was kind of your first love, if you believe in those kinds of things. But you got over it. It's fine.

You see Bakugou sometimes at hangouts, at get-togethers. He's in your orbit, or you're in his, because of your mutual friends. You're all adults now, so it's fine. It's a little weird, but fine.

You're supposed to be on vacation, at a place that's hours away from Musutafu. You're not sure what you've done to deserve it, but Bakugou's here too. And instead of both of you pretending the other doesn't exist, as usual, he's talking to you. He's everywhere. It's fine.

(It's not fine.)

TAGS: pro hero Bakugou Katsuki, aged-up characters, friends to lovers, soft Bakugou Katsuki, fluff, mutual pining, smut, oral sex, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, reader with afab body parts, reader with hair that can be pushed away from face when damp

STATUS: Completed; 3 of 3

NAVIGATION: Series Masterlist

NOTE: Minors, DNI! This chapter contains smut.

“Watch it,” Bakugou snaps. 

His hand shoots out to grab your upper arm as you stumble over a hidden tree root, too engrossed in the pictures you’re taking with your phone to notice what’s underfoot.

“Pay attention,” he growls as he steadies you. His hand is warm where it’s wrapped around you. 

Heart thumping in your chest, you slip your phone into your pocket, feeling duly admonished. 

“Sorry,” you say, looking up at him. “And thank you. Your reflexes are amazing.” 

Bakugou scowls at you. “Be more careful or I’m taking you back down.” 

“You and what army?” You stick your tongue out at him.

Some expression you can’t quite read flickers across his face, and he narrows his eyes at you.

Your momentary courage deserts you. You squeak and pull yourself free from his grasp, making your way hurriedly up the marked path while trying to balance caution and speed so you don’t trip and fall on your face.

Behind you, you hear a sharp bark of laughter. You can’t help but look back. 

Bakugou’s gaze immediately catches yours. There are traces of laughter still in his face—in his eyes, on his lips. 

It’s not the first time you’ve heard him laugh, of course. Kaminari’s hilarious, and when he, Kirishima, and Hanta get going at parties, everyone’s laughing. (Even if Bakugou sometimes laughs at them more than with them.) And that’s not even taking into account how much of a menace Bakugou is when Todoroki’s around to tease.

But it’s the first time you’ve made him laugh. You want to keep making him laugh, you realize. You really like him, and it’s such a problem. All that time spent trying to keep your distance, get over him? Undone within a few days.

As Bakugou’s long strides quickly eat up the distance between you, you try to compose yourself, hoping none of your thoughts are visible in your expression. It’s fine.

He puts a hand on your back, nudging you forward. 

“C’mon,” he tells you. “If you wanna make it back in time for dinner, save the pictures and the attitude for the top.” 

Much of the trail takes you through a forest filled with cedar and birch trees with a steady incline upwards. Wooden stairs and handholds appear a couple times, as this hiking trail is well-traveled. You pass some people in pairs or families on your way up, but not often. 

When you hike—and yes, you usually do take a friend or two, Bakugou—you prefer not to talk much. A lot of the time it’s because your lungs can’t multitask; the physical exertion of breathing is more than enough. But it’s also because you hate to cut through the sound of nature with your voice. You love the birdsong, the wind rustling the trees, the faint hum of insects. 

Bakugou is quiet too, for the most part. When he does speak, his voice is low, quiet, with check-ins and directives. 

“You out of water? Here.” You find out he has water, a first aid kit, snacks, and who knows what else in the backpack he’s brought along.

“Gimme your hands. Rocks’re slippery here.” He’s all easy strength, a warm grip. Your hands in his. 

“Let’s stop here for a minute.” He’s not tired at all, but you are as things get steeper, and you don’t even need to say anything for him to pause for a break. 

Bakugou’s a good hiking partner. He’s better than Rie, who refuses to do anything with an incline and complains the whole way anyway, or Hanta, who chats your ear off the entire time and outpaces you with his long legs and hero stamina. 

Maybe when the two of you get back to Musutafu, Bakugou’d be willing to go on another hike with you. A friendly hike. You’ve never done anything one-on-one with him before this weekend, and since you’re slowly coming to accept that maybe you’ll have feelings for him forever, it’ll be fine. 

You reach the peak around noon. 

“Bakugou,” you say, staring out into the distance. You glance away briefly to put your hand on his forearm, shaking it slightly in excitement. 

Bakugou huffs, stepping closer to you. 

“Look,” you tell him, and his eyes meet yours. You know it’s because of a few clumsy moments you had getting up here that he’s keeping within arms length of you at all times, but—he’s so close. And he acts like he has no idea what he looks like, sunlight limning his blond hair and turning his eyes clear crimson. 

You look away, back out. You don’t want to make things weird when—when you’re friends, now, right? The time you’ve spent together this weekend, just the two of you… you’ve got to be friends at this point. 

You push your thoughts aside and try to recenter yourself, focus on what’s in front of you.

Trees grow everywhere you look in deep shades of green and umber. The nearby lake shimmers, placid. In the distance are mountains, making their mark against the horizon. 

“It’s so beautiful out here,” you say. You turn your head to look at Bakugou again, smiling, only to find that he’s still looking at you. Your hand’s still on his arm. 

A little flustered, you let go of him. In a voice softer than you intend, you tell him, “I’m having a great time. Thanks for coming with me.” 

He looks at you for a long moment.

“Good,” he says. 

Soaking in the open-air bath does wonders for your body. 

It’s a little too early for muscle aches and soreness, but you can already feel how fatigued certain parts of your body are—your feet, your calves. The hot water is like a balm as you submerge yourself to your chin. 

The public onsen is nice, but crowded. You visited yesterday, after the morning market, and enjoyed it. But it’s a different experience, here in your room’s private outdoor bath. It’s like you’re the only one in the whole world. You needed this time and space to yourself after returning from the hike with Bakugou. When you’re with him, it feels like all your senses are dialed to 110% and the only thing you can think of is him. In the hours since the hike, you took a nap and then checked in with your friends. 

Sero finally got back to you late last night, letting you know that he’d met Rie halfway and traveled back with her to Musutafu. Rie messaged you a picture she’d taken of herself, looking haggard and depleted, with her client barely visible in the background looking stunningly gorgeous. Rie’s always been super talented at turning people into works of art.

They both asked how you’re doing. In your group chat with them, you sent along pictures of the gifts you’d gotten them and the photos you took on your hike. The views you captured look unreal, like CGI, they’re so pretty. 

You even got Bakugou to take a few pictures—a couple of you, with a big grin, throwing up a peace sign, and even a selfie of the both of you. He’s not smiling, exactly, in it, but his neutral expression is handsome anyway. You weren’t sure he wanted it, but you sent the picture to him, just in case. 

You did make the mistake of sending one of your solo pictures in your group chat with Rie and Sero because Rie immediately sent you several follow-up direct messages while Sero just sent a thumbs up.

Rie: Who took this????

Rie: Who were you with??

If you told the truth, you’d never hear the end of it. Instead of replying to her, guiltily, you left her messages unopened, to deal with later. 

You drift, eyes closed. The daytime sounds of birds and cicadas have been replaced by the chirping of crickets as the sun sets, casting a dreamy orange glow over everything. 

You’ve nearly dozed off when the sound of knocks on your door has you stirring. 

Briefly, you entertain the urge to ignore it. It’s probably someone who’s got the wrong room, as you aren’t expecting anyone. You do plan on ordering the in-room dining menu but haven’t gotten around to requesting it yet. 

But the knocks come again, and then your phone pings. 

Sighing, you stand, water sloshing and streaming off your body. You grab a towel and briskly rub yourself down so you aren’t dripping water everywhere, and then you shrug on the onsen-provided robe. 

As you pad over to the front door, you grab your phone and glance at the screen. 

The message preview says—

Bakugou: You in your room? 

Blinking, you jerk your head up to stare at the door. It’s quiet now. 

Hurrying over, you open it. No one’s there. 

You stick your head out and look both ways. To your left, you see Bakugou’s retreating back.

“Bakugou,” you call. “Come back!”

He stops, turns. His eyes land on you, and he scowls. 

You resist the urge to jerk back. What’s his deal? You were in the bath; you answered the door as fast as you could.

You make a face at him. 

With long strides, Bakugou’s back at your door. He steps close, almost crowding you. 

“Get back in there, you aren’t even dressed,” he says. His eyes drop down to your shoulder, then quickly dart back to your face. 

Your robe had loosened, one side sliding down your shoulder a little when you’d leaned out to look for him. You feel your face begin to warm as suddenly, you’re hyper aware you’re not wearing anything under this robe and he’s just a step or two away. 

You fix your robe.

“There isn’t even anyone around,” you say, stubborn, just to get your mind off of the path it’s taking. He’s clearly freshly showered, hair damp, and you’re reminded of your first night here in the bamboo garden, him, under the moonlight. 

Stop. 

As if to prove you wrong, you begin to hear the faintest sound of voices echoing from down the hall. Bakugou looks at you as if to say I told you so. 

You step back. “Come in.”

Closing the door behind him, you cross your arms over your chest, trying not to feel self-conscious. 

“What brought you over here, anyway?” you ask. 

“Was gonna ask if you wanna eat with me for dinner,” Bakugou says. He avoids looking at you, glances around your room, and you’re glad that you’re generally a pretty tidy person. Glad that he’s not looking at you, but also a little disappointed, though you know it’s dumb. He’s not interested. 

“I’d love to, but I feel like a limp noodle,” you say. “I doubt I’ll make it to the restaurant. And I might fall asleep over dinner. I was gonna order their in-room dining menu instead.” 

You’re telling the truth. You feel like you’ve spent your time well on this vacation, but you’re tired.

But you don’t want to say no; you don’t want to turn him away. You’ve already spent so much time with him, but it’s like you can’t get enough. 

“Do you wanna join me?” you ask. 

Bakugou puts his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. But let’s eat in my room.”

You furrow your brows. “Why? We’re already here in mine.” 

He shrugs a shoulder. “Go get dressed.”

You stare at him, bewildered. What logical explanation could there be for him to want to dine in his room instead? Maybe his room’s nicer than yours? But he’s never struck you as the kind of guy to care about stuff like that. Maybe he forgot something in there? But that’s silly, he presumably just came from there. The in-room dining menu costs the same across the rooms, so it can’t be that…

Pausing, you narrow your eyes at him. “Wait. Is it because you want to charge the meal to your room?”

His silence is telling. He looks at you, unwavering, as if maintaining eye contact will make you back down. But you’re unintimidated. 

“I know your tricks now, Bakugou,” you tell him, smug. “You can’t fool me. We’re eating here, and I’m paying for it as thanks for the hike today. Go sit on the couch, feel free to turn on the TV. I’ll be right back.”

You turn before he can say anything, grabbing some clothes from the dresser and walking into the bathroom to change. Faintly, you hear the sound of the TV being turned on. 

Your small victory has you re-energized. You change, buoyed with it. You do wonder about this newly discovered quirk of Bakugou’s—paying for things unnecessarily. You do recall he’s never been stingy, covering rounds of drinks at get-togethers, spotting your mutual friends’ meals on birthdays. 

It doesn’t come across as—I have more money than you do, so I’m flaunting it, even though you’re aware that he does make more than most of your friend group because of his higher hero ranking and the fact he owns his own agency. It feels more so like his way of showing his friends he cares; it’s warming that it’s something he’s trying to do with you. 

It’s juvenile, this need to be reassured, but you wish you could ask him if he thinks of you as a friend. 

When you leave the bathroom, you find Bakugou sitting on the couch, flipping through the provided menu. He looks up as you approach and sit a cushion away from him. 

“You like fruit?” Bakugou asks. 

“…Yes?” you say, blinking. “That’s so random.” 

He tilts his head toward the other end of the couch where the gifts you’d bought at the market sit. Sero’s bag of fruits is open, peeking through. 

“Oh! Those are for Hanta. You know he likes citrus fruit, right? You got him those oranges a couple weeks back.” 

Bakugou raises a brow. “He tell you about that?” 

“Yeah! He was talking about them non-stop for a couple days. Couldn’t get him to shut up. It was really sweet of you—I think those oranges are his favorite variety.” 

Bakugou’s expression is hard to make out, but you think maybe he’s pleased. He’s a really great friend, you think. 

“Let’s order,” he says. 

You order to your heart’s content, feeling justified since you’d only eaten an onigiri and some snacks Bakugou’s brought for lunch, at the peak. While you wait, a hero special on All Might begins playing on the TV, and the both of you are unable to resist being drawn into it. He was the hero of your childhoods, after all, the biggest star.

“What’s he like, anyway?” you ask Bakugou. When he looks at you askew, you make a face at him. 

“I only ever saw him at events or peripherally, teaching the hero course,” you say defensively. “You probably don’t remember, but I was in the management course.”

“I remember,” he says. You resist the urge to grimace. You wish he didn’t; you’ve been getting along so well that you lulled yourself into forgetting about your cringy past. 

“...He’s annoying,” Bakugou says after a moment, interlocking his fingers and staring down at them. “Old man doesn’t know when to quit. Still at that damn school.” 

“Still teaching?” you ask. “That’s nice.” 

“Should retire,” Bakugou mutters. “He’s done enough.” 

“He’s done more than enough, I think,” you say. “But you heroes always give so much of yourselves, going where you’re needed. It’s one of the best things about you.” 

Bakugou looks up at you, tilts his head. 

After a moment, you realize. 

“About you, as in heroes in general!” you say hastily. You’re a liar. You were thinking about him, not All Might, not all heroes. 

A couple knocks at the door save you, and when you move to get up, Bakugou motions for you to stay. 

“I’ll get it,” he says. You sit there, beating yourself up over your slip-up, as Bakugou speaks to the people at the door. You greet them when they come in, watching out of the way as they quickly set the table and arrange the dishes you’d ordered. 

You hardly notice as they leave as quickly as they came, so dazzled by the food on display. 

Bakugou touches your back, and you startle. You look at him. 

“Come sit,” he tells you.

“Okay,” you say. 

The food is delicious, but the company’s even better.

You find yourself talking about all kinds of things with him. 

“Do you go hiking often?” you ask. “You looked pretty comfortable out there.” 

“I like outdoorsy shit,” Bakugou says. “Hiking’s fine. I like mountain climbing best.”

“Mountain climbing?” You tilt your head. “That’s pretty intense. It suits you! I have a friend who’s into bouldering and is trying to get me into it. I feel like that might be more my speed.”

“You scared of heights?” 

“I’m scared of falling!” You laugh. “But with your quirk, I guess you don’t have that worry.” 

“If you want to try bouldering, tell me,” he says. He brings his cup of tea to his lips, takes a sip. 

You blink at him. “Do you know how?”

“Started with it a couple years back and moved on to climbing. Being outside’s better,” Bakugou says. 

“Okay! I’ll take you up on it,” you say, trying to hide the little thrill that runs through you at the thought that he wants to spend time with you, even when the both of you return home. 

You reach for the teapot to refill his cup, and your hand brushes against his, resting on the table. He doesn’t pull away. His eyes lift to meet yours, deep carmine in the low light. 

Before you know it, it’s true night. It’s not so late according to the time, but it feels like it is because the both of you were up early and had a physically taxing day. 

Mid-sentence, you cover your mouth as you yawn, little pinpricks of tears springing to your eyes. 

“Sorry,” you say, just as you catch Bakugou hiding a reciprocal yawn. It’s cute. You don’t think he’d appreciate you saying so, so you hide your smile. 

“You wanna sleep here?” you ask. “I’m sleeping in the bed nearest the windows. The one next to the wall was Rie’s, but they changed the sheets and everything yesterday. It hasn’t been touched since.” 

Bakugou looks at you for a moment. “You good with that?”

“If you are,” you tell him. “And if you’re okay with using the complimentary toothbrush they give out.” 

He snorts. “Thanks.” 

Getting ready for bed at the same time as him feeds into thoughts you refuse to acknowledge. He tells you to get ready first as he takes care of cleaning up the food and dishes to be taken away by the staff. You try to help, but he gives you this stubborn look you’re too tired to fight. You thank him instead and retreat into the bathroom. 

It’s only when you’re both in bed, the lights out, that those thoughts return, make themselves manifest.

The awkwardness you used to feel around him, the self-consciousness about your history, the pressure to keep him at a distance—it’s all faded so much into the background. Instead, your body hums with nerves, with a different kind of awareness. 

He looked at you a lot, today. Whenever you looked at him, he was already looking back. He made himself known with little touches here and there: on your back, your arms, your hands. You thought you’d imagined it yesterday, this morning, but—no. 

You’ve had partners before, both short and long term. That dance in the beginning, that will we, won’t we—you think you’re not imagining it here, with him. 

“Goodnight Bakugou,” you say quietly, in case he’s already asleep. You don’t trust yourself to look at him to check. Seeing him across sheets, soft and undone… you don’t trust yourself to look at him and keep these bubbling feelings inside.

“Night,” Bakugou says. 

When you wake, the sun isn’t even up. 

The room is dark, though it’s in hazy shadows that speak of a coming dawn. 

Blinking sleep away, you rub at your face and turn onto your side to reach for your phone. 

You freeze mid-motion. 

You’d forgotten Bakugou, sleeping in the other bed, still deep asleep. His face is restful, uncreased by a frown, though you can’t make out much more in the gloom. 

You look at him for a long moment. 

Quietly, you grab your phone off the bedside table and get out of bed, heading into the bathroom. You wash your face and brush your teeth before undressing and donning an onsen robe. You pad over to the sliding glass door leading out to the deck and open-air bath and step out. 

A simple shower sits in the corner of the deck, intended for rinsing off before bathing. You stand under the spray, scrubbing yourself down.

You want to use the open-air bath one more time before checking out. You want some time to yourself before you have to face the morning. Soaking in the steamy water, watching the sunrise—it’ll be a nice ending to this vacation. 

Suitably clean, you slip out of the robe, hanging it on a hook on the wall, before sliding into the bath.

It’s so hot it makes you hiss as you sink down, the steam visibly wafting in the air. The seats within the bath are at a perfect height for you to sit sideways in one of the corners, arms folded across the ledge. You rest your head on them.

The sky’s begun to change to a blue, with pink and orange streaking the horizon. You stare out into the distance, blinking slowly. 

You don’t regret spending so much time with Bakugou this weekend. You had a lot of fun, and when the alternative would’ve been a rather lonely couple of days, you’re grateful. You’re happy that you’ve grown closer, when it seemed an impossibility a couple days ago.

Knowing him as you do now—you like him so much. You like what you’ve learned about him, up close.

You feel guilty keeping your feelings from him; you want to tell him, but you’re not sure. You're teetering on the edge—are you reading too deeply into his words, his actions? Does he return your feelings? Or is his interest fleeting, just because of circumstance, likely to fade once you leave this ryokan behind? You don’t know. 

The sound of the sliding door opening jostles you from your thoughts. 

You turn just your head, keeping your front pressed against the side of the bath. 

Bakugou stands there, looking rumpled but forcibly alert. Like a tiger, just woken up from sleep, not sure what’d woken it up. Little water marks stain the front of his shirt, and the edges of his hair are damp, as if he’d washed his face. 

You stifle the urge to smile. 

“Good morning,” you say softly.

He grunts out what could be a greeting back.

“Did I wake you up?” you ask. “I’m sorry if I did.” 

“Y’didn’t,” he says. “I usually get up early.” 

Bakugou looks out over the pond, out at the trees on the far side, before looking at you.

“S’early for a bath,” he says. 

“Wanted to use it one last time while watching the sun rise.” You push your hair away from your face, where it’d begun to cling because of the steam. His gaze tracks your movement, the sluicing of water down your forearm. The bare line of your back. 

His eyes snap back up to yours, but it’s too late. You caught it. 

You watch him for a long moment. Take a deep breath. 

“Wanna join me?” 

He studies you. The longer the silence stretches, the more your nerves fray. 

You swallow, open your mouth to take it back. Maybe you’d imagined the look in his eyes. 

“You sure?” he asks. His voice is raspy with the remnants of sleep, deep with something else. His words are heavy with things unspoken, and you shiver despite the warmth of the water. 

“Yeah,” you say. 

He turns to the shower you’d just used, and you look away as he grips the back of his shirt, pulls it over his head, revealing a tantalizing expanse of skin. The broad breadth of his shoulders, the hard lines of muscle leading to his waist. Old scars, telling of the fights he’s survived, the fights he’s won. 

You whip your head forward, looking away, feeling impossibly warmer than you already are in this bath, steam rising around you. 

There’s the sound of clothes hitting the deck and the water turning on. 

You keep your eyes on the horizon, the peek of the sun over that line, even as you hear the shower shut off and his footsteps approach, even as the water level rises as he climbs in. 

Heart thumping fast against your chest, body tense with anticipation, it takes all your will not to startle when his hand touches your bare back. You shift to face him, and he’s close, so close. Like yesterday, and the day before, but today maybe he’s finally within your reach. 

“This what you wanted?” His hand slides down your skin, and you can’t help but lean into his touch. You reach a hand up to his face.

He stops you, grip encircling your wrist—a familiar motion. 

“Y’gotta say it,” Bakugou tells you. His eyes are molten red with the sunrise, heated. Your breath catches. 

“Yes, yes, wanted this,” you say, trying to move closer, and he huffs out a laugh, the glimmer of a satisfied smile on his lips. 

You look up at him, soft, putty in his hands. He’s so handsome like this. 

Unable to resist, you lean up to kiss his cheek. 

He turns his head as you retreat and kisses you. 

Your eyes flutter shut as your head tilts to press against his lips better. He’s warm. You only realize he’s let go of your wrist because your hands come up to brace against his chest, unfettered. His hand on your back grips your waist, and his free hand comes to rest on the other side. They’re searing against your skin. 

When he touches his tongue against your lips, a request, you open up for him, a door thrown all the way open. He kisses you deep, plundering, tongue sliding against yours slowly, sensually. The sound your mouths make when you part for air is filthy. 

You want to be closer, ever closer. When your chest touches his, nipples hard against his skin, he makes a rough noise against you that has you humming in pleasure. 

Fuck it, you think, and you shift so that you’re straddling his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck, skin to skin now. 

He’s half hard from just a few kisses, pressed against your lower belly. There’s an answering pulse in your sex that has you arching against him, craving friction. His hands slide to your ass, fingers dimpling into your skin, pulling you to him.

His mouth travels down your neck, biting gently here and there, sucking. His hand cups up to cup your chest, thumbs across your nipple. You gasp. 

He kisses you again, drinking you in like he can’t get enough. You’re dizzy with want. 

When you pull back for air, he’s breathing hard, and so are you. His eyes are hazy with arousal. You feel like you’ve been taken apart. 

“We movin’ too fast?” he asks.

You blink at him, mind fuzzy, slow to process. “Hm?”

Bakugou lifts a hand, cups the nape of your neck. His thumb glides against your skin, distracting. All you want is for him to keep kissing you. 

“Said we needa slow down.” 

“No,” you say immediately, and he snorts, lips curving. 

He disentangles himself from you, and the sudden space between you leaves you feeling bereft, adrift. 

He stands, completely unselfconscious despite his nudity and visible arousal, and steps out of the water. You watch as he walks over to where you’ve hung your robe and returns to the edge of the bath. He holds the robe open.

“Let’s go inside,” he says. “You've been in there too long.”

Leaving the bath feels a little like Bakugou’s broken a spell that’d fallen over the two of you. You’re not sure what’s going to happen next, and it makes you a little anxious. 

But he’s right. You’ve been in here too long, and you’re a little lightheaded from the heat. 

With a quiet thanks, you step into the robe, the cloth immediately clinging to your damp skin. As you tie it closed, he rubs his lower half down with his discarded shirt and picks up the pants he wore to sleep, puts them on. Then he opens the sliding door, nudges you inside. He heads to the kitchen area. 

You stand there for a second, unsure of what to do with yourself. You wish you knew what he’s thinking. 

“Hey, c’mere. Drink this.” Bakugou returns with a water bottle in his hand. He gives it to you, then corrals you towards one of the beds. “Sit down, you’re swaying like you’re a damn penguin.”

This startles a laugh out of you, and you shake your head, twisting the water bottle open and taking a drink. Bakugou sits next to you, close, legs pressing against each other. He’s still shirtless, a couple drops of water still dripping down his torso here and there. 

You like him so much. You inhale. 

“I’ve liked you since we were teenagers, though I don’t think you noticed,” you say, avoiding his eyes. Your heart is racing. “I don’t think we’re moving too fast if you don’t.” 

Bakugou snorts. “I noticed.”

You turn your head sharply to stare at him for a moment. He gives you one of his mean little grins that has you feeling warm, self-conscious, because it makes him so boyishly handsome.

Groaning, you cover your face with your hands. “Can you just… find someone with a memory quirk and erase all your memories of me back then? Thanks. It was a super embarrassing time of my life.”

Bakugou takes your wrists in his hands, pushing them down so he can see you unhindered. He leans forward and kisses the side of your head, your ear. 

“You saying it was embarrassing, liking me?” he rumbles against you. You shiver. 

“The way I went about liking you was,” you mutter. He snickers, and you shove him. 

After a halting moment, you ask, “Umm… So I thought you barely knew I existed, before this weekend. What…?”

You’re not sure how to finish your sentence. And you hate yourself a little for bringing this up, for potentially killing the mood. But you have to know if this is just a casual thing or—or something else. You don’t know what you’ll do with the answer, but. You want to know. 

He looks at you for a long moment, considering. 

“Only thing I cared about while I was at UA was being the best,” he says, at last. “After the war—I knew I needed to be stronger, to be strong enough. So much shit needed to change. Didn’t have much use for dating.”

“Right,” you say quietly. The years after the war were hard for Japan. So many systems were dismantled and built anew. Some older heroes lost their faith in what they did; the younger ones struggled with the trauma of what they’d lived through. Everyone, hero or not, had to rebuild their lives.

You understand. And Bakugou’s always been so driven and focused with anything he puts his mind to. He’s been instrumental in shaping what this new generation of heroes looks like. 

Bakugou reaches over, puts a hand on your thigh. Even over the cloth of the robe, his warmth reaches your skin. He doesn’t do anything more, just rests it there. Distracting. Sending goosebumps across your body. 

“You were always around, these past couple of years. Hangin’ around Soy Sauce Face and his girl. But you were always fucking running away. What the hell was up with that?” 

Bakugou scowls at you, squeezing your leg a little, and your mind scatters. It takes a moment to gather yourself and process what he’s asked. When you do, you frown. 

“What do you mean, I was always running away?”

“You tell me,” Bakugou growls. 

When you continue to look mystified, Bakugou’s scowl deepens. 

“Whenever I tried to talk to you, you’d scurry away, like a little mouse,” he says. “Didn’t even get to say shit before you’d be gone, hiding behind Tape Head or his girl.” 

As he talks, puzzle pieces begin to fit together in your head. 

When you’d see him at get-togethers, you’d always worried about how you’d come across to him—that he’d be able to tell your crush on him had endured, that it’d become more. So maybe you overcompensated a little. You tried to play it cool, super disinterested in prolonged engagement, and when you could… maybe you did avoid him a little. 

You didn’t realize he’d notice, let alone be bothered by it. 

“Oh,” is all you can manage. 

He narrows his eyes at you. “S’only here that I’ve been able to really talk to you. No Soy Sauce Face. No Soy Sauce girlfriend.”

“Sorry,” you tell him, meek. “I… I’m gonna die, this is so embarrassing.”

You look up at the ceiling to avoid looking at him. “I was trying to keep my distance because this dumb crush on you never went away. And you were obviously not interested, so I wanted to be respectful. Sorry I made things weird instead.”

Realization hits you, and you turn your head to him. “Wait, so—you are… interested…?” 

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “You think I was going to all these dumb hangouts this past year just because I wanted to be there?” 

Oh. Oh. 

You’re not sure what he sees in your face, but he barks out a laugh. He reaches over and takes your face in his hand, squeezes so that your lips and cheeks puff out. 

“For someone so smart, you can be a dumbass, huh,” he says, and his tone is so warm that you don’t even mind. 

You wriggle out of his grip. He lets you, watching you. Your hand drops to your robe’s tie. You undo it. It loosens on your frame. 

You take one of his hands and slip it under the robe, sliding his hand across your skin. The motion bares you to his eyes as the robe falls open. 

“Not moving too fast,” you tell him, and his gaze is so heated, you feel like you’re burning up. 

Bakugou leans forward and kisses you hard. You open up for him immediately, letting his tongue dart in and tangle with yours. Your arms come up to wrap around his neck as you press closer. He shifts so that his body covers yours, and he slowly tilts you back so that you’re lying across the bed.

You love the feeling of his weight on you. You arch up to put pressure against his cock, steadily hardening, and he grunts against your mouth, grinding down onto you in an instinctive motion. 

When you part for breath, he mouths at your neck, biting gently. You squirm, can only clutch at his back. 

“Bakugou,” you say, and his name’s half air.

“S’Katsuki,” he tells you as his lips travel down your body. He takes your nipple in his mouth and sucks. His hand comes up to tease the other one, squeezing, groping your chest. Your legs tighten around his waist, grinding against his bare abdomen, seeking friction to soothe the heat in your sex. 

Bakugou pins you, stopping any motion. He lifts himself up a little, and you whine. 

His gaze drops to your lips, kiss-swollen. His eyes warm, go half-lidded. “Y’hear me? Say it.” 

“Hmm?” You’re so far gone, turned on out of your mind. You just want him inside of you.

You try to press against him, but he pins you with hands on your hips. 

“It’s Katsuki to you,” he says, and you shiver. You put your hands on either side of his face. 

“Katsuki, please,” you say, and you only get a glimpse of his curved lips before they’re on yours again, swallowing you up. 

He gets you fully out of the robe, tosses it aside somewhere. When you wordlessly push at his pants, he takes those off too. 

Skin to skin friction has the both of you so worked up. He’s so hard against you. You want to touch him, so you do, hand wrapping around him and stroking the silky skin. 

He groans, and you’re on fire. 

But Bakugou grips your wrist, stops your caress. He repositions your arms so that your hands are up by your head. 

“You keep them there,” he tells you as he moves down your body, and before you can ask why, his fingers are grazing over your clit, thumbing at it. 

You arch, gasping, and he teases his fingers over your slit, feels how wet you are. He massages slow circles into your clit, and you’re clenching inside, wanting. 

“Please,” you say, throwing an arm over your face, overwhelmed. Bakugou huffs a laugh against your abdomen, pressing a kiss there. He pushes a finger inside you, stretching you. He’s gentle, going slow and paying close attention to your reactions to see if anything hurts.

But he’s going too slow—it’s not enough. 

“More,” you tell him. “It’s okay, more.” 

So he adds another finger, and your pussy flutters around him as he begins to loosen you up, pumping them in and out, curling them when they’re inside you. You’re so slick that your sex makes a filthy wet sound as he plays with you. 

“Fuck,” you say, mind splitting apart. You kiss him, messy, and he just feels so good. It’s such a pleasurable stretch when he adds a third finger. 

When he takes all of his fingers out, your body chases him, arching. You’re so close. 

“Katsuki,” you begin, just as he puts his mouth on your clit and sucks. 

Your entire body shudders, and he licks up and down your slit, tongue dipping inside you. Your hips begin to undulate as you begin to peak, your hands gripping the sheets on either side of you. 

You come as his tongue flicks at your clit, gasping your pleasure. 

He wraps a big hand around your waist as you ride it out, mouthing at your inner thighs. 

You’re breathing hard, little shivers going through you in tiny aftershocks. Bakugou comes back up the bed, wrapping his arms around you. You immediately turn your head for a kiss, tasting yourself on him. 

His cock’s still so hard, pressed against your leg, your ass. You’re not done yet. You want to make him feel good. 

You reach down and take him in hand. It’s so big with how turned on he is, just from giving you pleasure, and it twitches in your grasp. His hips jerk, searching for relief. 

“Want you inside,” you tell him, and his eyes are searing. 

You shift so that you’re on top of him, pussy pressed against the line of his dick. He’s throbbing against you, and it’s a little mean, but you grind your hips down on him, moving so that he slides up and down your slit. The tip of his cock slips over your entrance over and over again, pushing in a little but not quite. 

Bakugou grips your waist with two hands to halt you. You bite your lip to hide a smile. 

“Brat,” he growls, dangerous.

In answer, you take him in your hand and position the tip of his dick right at your entrance and slowly sink down. 

His eyes drop to watch his cock enter you, inch by inch, and his grip on you is nearly bruising, fingers indenting your skin. You’re still sensitive, clenching around him, but you’re taking him so easy because you’re still wet from your orgasm. 

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Bakugou says, and he says it so low, guttural, that you tighten around him. The look on his face is working you up; it’s an intoxicating expression of desire.

You begin moving, lifting up and down on his cock. His eyes are cloudy with want as he watches you on top of him, you with your tits bouncing. He reaches up to cup your breast. Leaning forward, you kiss him, and his answer is hungry as your pace quickens. You pant into his mouth. 

But you think maybe you’re not going fast enough for him. He’s careful with you, but looking down at him, you can tell he’s holding back. 

So you stop, lift up off of him, let him slip out of you.

“Whatever you want,” you tell him, and his next movements are so fast.

Bakugou lifts you up off of him and presses you back into the bed. He takes your legs, spreads them so they’re straddling his hips, and he’s back inside of you with a hard thrust. Gripping your waist, he chases his pleasure, slamming his cock in you over and over again.

The sudden intense friction against your walls has you climbing that peak again, and you clutch at his back. As if sensing it, he slips a hand down between the two of you to massage circles into your clit. He catches your moan in his mouth. 

“Katsuki,” you say, just as you begin convulsing around him, feverish, nails digging into his skin. 

“Fuck, you’re so—” he growls as you continue to tense up around him, fluttering, and then he’s following you over. You can feel his warmth as he comes in you, his big body coming to rest against yours. He kisses the side of your head, your forehead, your mouth. You smile against him. 

Sleep comes for the both of you, for a while. You’re not sure if it’s been minutes or hours when you come to, but when you do, soft morning light floods the room. 

You jolt up in a panic. Looking around, you search for your phone. You move to get out of bed when you don’t immediately find it. 

“Where the hell’re you going,” Bakugou grumbles. He throws an arm over your waist and mouths at your hip.

“We gotta get packing, Katsuki,” you say, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “Or at least I do! I’m checking out this morning.”

“Stay another day,” he says, voice a little growly and his eyes closed, and you stop. “I know you’ve got a shit ton of leave saved up.”

“And how would you know that?” you ask. You put your hand on his head, thread it through his blond hair.

“Tape Head said you haven’t taken off in forever,” he says. 

Bakugou opens his eyes, looks up at you. He presses a kiss against your skin. Bites you gently. 

“Stay with me,” he tells you.

And what else can you say but yes?

Final Notes: And we're done! Thank you all of you for following this little labor of love to its conclusion. 💖 Bakugou's birthday fic's finally completed, over a month after the fact.

A couple things! Some of you caught on to the fact that Bakugou being at this onsen ryokan at the same time as reader was a little fishy—you were so right. Sero, Kirishima, and Kaminari gifted Bakugou the reservation for his birthday, knowing that you would be there with Rie, knowing Bakugou's been interested in you for a while now. (Bakugou knew something was up immediately after he saw you at the ryokan.) Rie having to leave was purely coincidental, but it turned out to be a happy coincidence!

(I love you guys; the comments you left last chapter and the conversation you guys were having with each other made me laugh.)

The location for the hike is based off Fuji-Hakone-Izu National Park, specifically the Mount Amagi hikes, with a lot of creative liberty taken.

I think the only Japanese used here was a mention of onigiri, which are rice balls with a seaweed wrapping with various fillings inside.

Once again, thank you for reading! All your likes, reblogs, comments—I appreciate them so much. Hugs and kisses, and until next time! ✨💞

Tag List: @blairbellerose @yeehawgiddyup13 @reads-stuff-quietly @surprisemodafakas @scarlett-witchh @queenpiranhadon @sleepyyhabii @j-pendragonx @bakunianadecorazon @dreamingoftomorrow @nonamebbsblog @gina239 @seabass17 @dynakats @I-bozo-I @humblechumbble @universal-s1ut @sweetblueworm @kukikoooo @liluvtojineteyam @nemisimp @bkgnotsuma @poemzcheng @farrowroyale @simp-plague @dreamingoftomorrow @mystic60 @k0z3me @buzzyandbadatmath @anicaaa67 @icedemon1314 @lovra974 @andyetshewrote @frostbez @mo0nforme @mrsjna @pinkpurpledreams

[watu2ka]

gym crush

bakugo x fem!reader

You weren't a regular at the gym, lord knows how many times Bakugo has begged you to join him in couples workout.

You now regretted agreeing to him as you panted while running on the treadmill. You were thinking of ways to drown your boyfriend in the shower once you both finished your workout session.

Apart but still semi close, you two decided to work on your own machines. Knowing that each of you had specific goals to work on.

While plotting Bakugos demise, you couldn't help but watch your devilishly good looking boyfriend as he worked out on the bench press.

His muscles flexing through his black tank top as he used the weights, his face calmly serious, focused with his headphones blocking out the rest of the gym.

Busy drooling over your boyfriend, you couldn't help but overhear the girls on the treadmill next to you also appreciating your man.

"Isn't he so fine!" One squealed, her eyes never leaving him as she giggled to her friend.

"I only come to this gym just so I can see him, talk about eye candy." The other agreed, Bakugo not knowing he was the victim of their lustful gazes.

You weren't normally a jealous person, but hearing their words and knowing they got to see your boyfriend in his gym shorts and tight shirts while he worked out, his physic on full display for them to oogle.

Something that was yours.

One of the girls noticed your gaze lingering between them and their gym crush.

"Isn't he just dreamy." They smiled at you, pulling you into their gossiping session. "Do you think he's single?" One of them smirked, a look gleaming in her eyes.

Patting your slightly rosy cheeks with your towel, wiping away your sweat. You slowed down your workout machine, catching your breath before smiling at the girls.

"I bet you two I can get Mr. Dreamys number." You challenged, the girls rolling their eyes as you fixed your sports bra. making sure your cleavage was glistening and attention grabbing.

"No way girl, every time we come he never talks to anyone much less even glance at a woman." The taller one rolled her eyes, giving her friend a look.

With a playful wink, you sashay towards the brooding blonde. Your hips swaying as you approach the unapproachable.

Your boyfriend senses your presence, glancing up as you lock eyes while he continues his workout. A slight raise of his brow as he silently questions you, his eyes straying as he watches your body come closer.

"Hey there handsome," you smiled leaning on his bench as watched him.

Once he saw your lips move, Bakugo moved his headphones to hang around his neck, putting up his weight as he slowly sat up. "Repeat that for me?" He mumbled, his breath coming in short pants as he gazed up at you.

"I said, what's a handsome thing like you doing here all by yourself." You flirted, leaning down to give him a view of your chest. Your lashes fluttering as you teased him.

With a roll of his eyes he slowly stood up, his height towering over your own. Neither of your gazes faltered, your smile widening as you saw the twitch of his lips fighting back a smile.

"Im waiting for my beautiful girlfriend to finish up her session." He smirked, looking down at you as he played along.

"So you're taken?" You pouted, your fingers trailing up his chest. "Happily." Bakugo answered, catching your hand in his grip.

The two girls watched with baited breathes from afar, thinking you were walking on thin ice with him. Both of them slightly happy with jealousy as they assumed you be rejected and kicked to the curb by the handsome blonde.

To their surprise they watched as Bakugo pulled you close, flipping you around so your back was pressed against his chest.

"Ready to go home, I think my girlfriend is done." He murmured, kissing the side of your head as he held you close. You giggled making his smirk turn into a small smile.

As he led you towards the exit, his hand resting on your waist you glanced over your shoulder. Sending the girls a cocky wink and smile as you walked away with their gym crush.

~~~

inspired from a TikTok and a comment