Hello!
You can call me Eff (F)! I am 8teen and will write for anything I'm interested in. my posts depend on motivation level, how much schoolwork I have, and also my fixations. That being said I am a beginner writer so I'm not that great... just don't leave any unnecessary hate please!
I won't post any of my other social media on here because this is kinda just a private blog to indulge in my interests
Most of my work is unedited, sorry for any mistakes... I just have fic ideas and then post them immediately after I finish writing them
bsf! Jason who helps you when you aren't able to cum by eating you out.
He catches you in tears and babbles when you spend the weekend over at his apartment due to yours being renovated. You're three fingers deep inside of you when he catches you in HIS bed. You barely croak out his voice as it's more of a sob. He's not mad, not even in the slightest. Instead, he's cooing to you, telling you it'll be alright while he moves to dip between your legs. Before you know it, he has your knees to your chest while he's tongue fucking you. Intentionally being loud just he could hear you whine for him. He keeps eye contact with you when he finally pulls his head back just enough for you to see the line of saliva connected from his lip to your aching hole. You couldn't ask for a better friend.
18+, ab-riding, praise, aftercare, pet names (baby/babygirl, sweet girl)
YOU'RE DRAGGING your leaking, aching cunt across the hard lines of his torso until a squelching sound emits with every movement of your hips. he's simply laying there, an amused smirk playing at his lips as a result of your desperate whimpers. this usually happens when he's too tired or injured after patrol to fuck you in the way you crave.
"such a needy girl, huh?" he teases, resting two heavy, calloused hands on the fat of your hips. "jesus-" he huffs a low, gravely chuckle, entertained by just how much you're leaking. "makin' a goddamn mess, baby" he tuts, admiring the glistening slick smeared across his front.
you're so close, the friction of his firm, warm skin against your sensitive clit is making your nails dig in to his pecs. he knows when you're close before you do, always kept track of the way your body nearly loses control.
"you gonna cum like this?" he asks, "don't even need my help, huh?" he cups your cheek, making you lock eyes with him as your grinding grows sloppier. you couldn't care less about the embarrassment anymore, it's so intoxicating getting off on him like this, all while he sits back and watches.
your pathetic noises only grow louder with each grind, with each swipe of your pussy across his abs. "j-jay– m'gonna cum" you breathe out, clenching your eyes shut. you can feel his clothed, throbbing cock, probably making a sticky mess in his pants with pre-cum, pressing against your ass every time you move, a sign that he's getting off on this just as much as you are.
"i know, babygirl" he coos, leaning up slightly to press soft, fluttering kisses to your neck. "you can let go f'me, sweet girl" he purrs, brushing the hair from your flushed face and simply admiring the way your expression is twisted in pleasure. his precious girl, using him to get off.
your breath hitches when your orgasm finally comes crashing over you, leaving you twitching against him. he holds you through your high as you cry out, his name heavy on your tongue. he's bucking his hips up, trying to get in any last stimulation before you collapse against him, exhausted. "there we go" he speaks softly, gently, as if he's coddling you.
"you feel better? hm?" he asks, "not so needy now, i bet." he chuckles lowly, and you're too fucked out to retort back. a calm settles in your bones as he holds you, rubbing soothing circles into your back and kissing the crown of your head. he'll make sure to take care of you properly once you've both rested.
so when you've done well on a test or completed all your work, he tells you to sit on his lap and spread your legs. one of his hands holds you wrists while the other slowly teases your pussy, before finally indulging you with a finger.
his hands are large and his fingers long, and so as an educated man, he somehow fits into all the right places, allowing you to roll your eyes back and lean your head on his shoulder as he does the work. he smirks when you whine and moan, still embarrassed enough to want to hide your sounds, but needy enough that you don't.
as you get closer, he firmly tells you to hold still, allowing him to fuck your pussy with his hand hard and fast. when you finally cum around his hands, he is enamoured at how tightly you clench onto him. he scoffs at how wet his fingers are when they come out, ordering you to clean them. no matter how many times he does this too you, his is always proud of how your legs shake afterwards.
getting so high and handsy with sero and you’re humping against his sweats like some cock hungry bunny and he’s leaning back, hands behind his head, lazy grin on his face while you grind against his cock. he rests a hand on the back of your neck and pulls you close but doesn’t kiss you, lets your lips brush against his, chuckling at the noises that spill from your lips.
he starts jerking his hips up, smirking at the wet spot you’re leaving on the front of his sweats, the way your nipples are poking through your shirt and pressing into his chest as you scoot closer. he lets you rut against him faster, knowing you’re close with the way you’re trembling and then he stops your hips and you whine.
“hush bunny.”
he bucks his hips up and flips you over so he can grind his dick into your little shorts and kiss all over your neck while you fall apart under him.
cw: age gap, hand sucking & biting, dry humping, come in pants, kinda mean!shane (as always) .
shane asked you out tonight to the bar in town, he doesn't pick you up—never did— but you always come anyway.
he sits there alone with his beer when he notices your arrival, "took you long enough."
"you're not picking me up." you take a seat next to him.
"you're a big girl, ain't ya?" he shrugs then leans closer to whisper into your ear. ",'sides you should feel lucky i've thought about taking you out after the rough day i had."
you tilt your head to look at him and notice the dried blood in the corner of his mouth but he's only putting up that smug smirk you hate.
"what happened?" you raise your hand and cup his jaw, thumb brushing the sharp stubble.
"nah, it's fine." he pulls back from your touch and drinks his beer again, "got into a fight with an old friend, had it all done."
he notices how you're still looking at him with those curious and suspicious eyes then rolls his own eyes.
"you got something you wanna say, baby? im all ears." he scoffs.
"no, honestly-just.. let me clean it up?" you say and he blinks. "what for?"
"well, just some fix up appearance. i mean, we're kinda on a date.. right?"
right, a date. something shane would never call whatever this was, but shit was here ain't it?
"if the shoes fits." he sighs and takes another sip of the beer before turning toward you.
you ask the bartender for wet wipes and start cleaning the blood in the corner of his mouth. his jaw clenches when the sting hits, his hunter eyes stay locked on you which wavers your movement for a moment.
"since when did you like to playing nurse, huh?" he mutters in a mocking way and you press harder on his bleeding skin that he grunts, one hand comes up to grip your wrist lightly. "fuck was that?" he glares at you.
"why can't you stop being a dick?" you mutter.
"where's the fun in that?" he gives your wrist a hard squeeze before shoving it away from his face, "alright, we're done playing nurse. go order something before i get bored."
the so called 'date' goes to where you talk about your day and he listens to every single word of it—even when he looks uninterested— it's one of things that you like about him. though he was a jerk the whole time, he always listened to you and sometimes gave you fine solutions.
then comes to the part where your drink spills just a little but still makes a mess on your chin.
"messy girl." he mutters, bringing his hand to wipe your chin with his thumb. he doesn't let go yet, instead he traces his thumb up from your chin to your lips.
you look up at him as an idea flashes in your mind. you part your lips, allowing his thumb to enter your open mouth and his hand stills for a second, eyes looking down at you as he tilts his head.
both of your hands move to hold his as if to tell him to keep going, and he does. his thumb moves deeper into your mouth and you start to suck it slow and light like you would've done with his dick.
his breath hitches at your move, but he doesn't stop you. only when your teeth graze against his thumb does he swallow, the blood inside his body flowing south straight to his dick.
"shit-you wanna bite me now?" he clears his throat and gives you a go. "go on then, try it."
try it, you do. first you give him a kitten bite before you bite it hard—so did he. that's why he suddenly stops you and pulls his hand out. fuck's sake they're still in public and he was fucking hard.
he stands abruptly from his seat and you widens your eyes in surprise, still wiping the spit from your mouth.
"what's wrong?" you ask and look around the bar before looking back at him, his big frame towering over you.
"you just gave me a hard on," he grabs his beer and adjusts his pants as he leans against the counter.
you blink and look down to see what's causing the problem.
"i did?"
he scoffs and shakes his head, "yeah, im fuckin' bricked now." then drinks his beer.
"oh. um.. should we take care of it?" you look up at him and he almost growls like he wants to just put his dick into your mouth already.
"fuck, not here." he grunts and downing his beer in one go. he pulls out his wallet from his pocket then pays the drinks before nodding at you. "c'mon."
you stand up and follow behind him outside of the bar toward his pickup truck in the parking lot. when both of you are inside the truck, he pats his thigh.
"seriously?" you ask, shying away as the parking lot is still a public place.
"quit fuckin' around," he sighs and pulls you into his lap in quick impatience as you gasp and rest your hands on his shoulders. "c'mon baby, ride my thighs." his hands find your hips.
"here..?" you whisper and he's already guiding your hips to move. "just do what i say."
you start to roll your hips against his thighs, the friction sends sparks through both of you. he grunts and fills your ear with his heavy breath as you continue to grind on him harder.
"yeahh, fuck-atta girl." he mutters and presses a kiss on your neck, then up to your jaw.
your mouth opens as you keep going, feeling his pants slowly dampened by your soaked pussy. he growls before pressing his lips into yours and kisses you hard but still careful enough not to suffocate you, tilting his head to kiss you deeper as one hand slides through your hair, making you moan into the kiss.
he grunts in response and bucks his hips up to meet yours, then bites your bottom lip as he comes in his pants.
you slap his chest at the bite and break the kiss when you realize what's happening. he doesn't care though, just throwing his head into the headrest while still panting hard.
you blink at the sight and bite your lip, "when was the last time you came in your pants?" you say.
little snippets of your secret relationship with dex :)
warnings?: suggestive content, age gap.
dbf dex who excuses himself from dinner to use the restroom just to pull you from your pretty braid so he can whisper how pretty you look tonight.
dbf dex who is much more handy than your dad, so he’s always fixing up a broken tile or janky drawer. he doesn’t leave before he takes a sneak into your dresser, imagining you in the variety of pretty shorts and lingerie you have.
dbf dex who likes to drive you to places when your dads too busy at work. he likes seeing you blush when he caresses your thigh and ask you about things no one ever bothers to ask.
dbf dex who says his goodnights to everyone and leaves through the front door, only to circle back and wait in the shadow of your house. waiting for the soft click of the back door and the second you’re close enough, he pulls you in for a kiss that’s entirely all tongue and teeth.
dbf dex who stays up late drinking with your dad, waiting until the house finally goes quiet just so he can slide into your bedroom, lock the door behind him, and pin you to the mattress before you can even whisper his name.
dbf dex who says it can’t happen again just for him to jerk himself to the thought of you when he gets into his car.
dbf dex who loses his marbles when you ask him to eat you out, he doesn’t even say anything, just kneels infront of you.
dbf dex who watches you from across the yard as you flirt with the neighbors son. not being able to take much more of it, he calls you into the house for help, just to drag you to the garage where he interrogates you while his fingers graze your folds.
———————————————————————————
i was so excited for summer just to realize i hate it and i have too much to figure out in so little time 😴
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.
"Shawn Hatosys wife is the best for sharing him with us!"
"Everyone thank Shawn Hatosys wife!"
"Oh my god, we should send Shawn Hatosys wife flowers for giving us this!"
Can yall stop bringing his wife into this? Those are fucking weird statements. He played a character on a porn app. Are you forgetting actors lives are separate from the characters they play? Tiktok is a fucking weird place.
No, I noticed this too. At the first sight of one of those comments I was like ‘Lol, sure,’ and then I saw more and lowkey was concerned.
I live in reality, I touch grass, and I encourage the encouragement of it by all means! But if you genuinely come across a hornyblogpost about how badly someone wants to makeout with Dr. Jack Abbot, you are in fact the parasocial one, for feeling the need to bring up Shawn Hatosy’s wife or “defend” her honor from all the “whores” trying to “interfere in their marriage”…?
It’s an extremely strange and creepy overcompensation that seems to always come from people preaching about parasociality. (You do not know what this phenomenon even is or how to recognize it, by the way. If you did, you wouldn’t think to presume to know his wife’s boundaries or feel an itch to perhaps play her role and police what you perceive to be threatening, flirtatious behavior.)
AK and Pitt fanfic writers don’t spend their time blogging photos of his everyday move to a coffee shop or his children… (weird)
I know nothing about his children, not their names, their ages, how many he even has. I know nothing about his wife, his parents, his family, his history, because I am here to appreciate the celebrity enigma that he throws into hot characters that he plays on television, I am not horny for the man behind the enigma and some of ya’ll are, and think that you are not.
None of us are going to “break up” his marriage. Stop infantilizing him, (he’s fifty LMFAOOOO), stop being misogynistic, stop getting defensive, stop being weird. Call out what needs to be called out, the behavior that actually perpetuates harm in real life, and let the rest rock.
So basically my power went out because of this big ass storm so take this imagine
Not proof read… for some obvious reasons
Imagine you’re in your apartment with your boyfriend Frank, getting ready for a date night. You planned on going to this fancy Thai place that you found on yelp, when suddenly the lights start to flicker.
Initially you think nothing of it because it’s NYC… your apartment is crappy… and the lights always do that. Until everything in your apartment goes dark.
In New York when the power goes out things get bad. Riots happen. You know this, Frank knows this, hell even your dog knows this.
So you start to panic. You haven’t experienced a power outage since you were a girl, and that last storm was the worse.
But imagine your sweet boyfriend Frank Castle getting up from his spot on the couch and immediately comforting you. Whispering in your ear “shhhhh baby, nothin’s happening to us. I gotchu. Anyone who thinks about hurting you will have to go through me first.” His hands stroke your soft hair as your face buries into his chest.
You two stand like that for a while until he leaves your side to double check the locks on your apartment doors and windows, even though he knows they’re already locked, he wants to comfort you.
He takes out the spare flashlights, not candles, because he doesn’t want to start a fire. He then helps you out of that tight dress you put on for date night, uses makeup wipes to help take your makeup off, and you two get ready for bed together.
Although he knows this’ll be resolved by morning he wants to do everything in his power to make you feel as safe and comfortable as possible.
