satsugo

[satsugo]

୨୧ awkwardly soft bf!bakugo doesn't talk about feelings. but he will shove your favorite chips into your hands until you smiled. mlist.

bakugo katsuki x reader

You hadn’t said a word in twenty minutes. Not since you came home, threw your bag down, and flopped face-first into the couch.

Bakugo watched you from the kitchen — chewing his lip, arms crossed. He hated not knowing what to say.

Hated seeing you look so small.

So instead of talking, he did the only thing he could think of.

He opened the cabinet, grabbed the one thing he knew you never turned down, and walked over.

You heard the crinkle of the bag before you even looked up.

“Here,” he muttered, holding it out without making eye contact. “Just… eat somethin’.”

You blinked at the chips in his hand. Then up at him.

He was staring hard at the wall like it owed him money.

You took the bag — quietly, carefully — and opened it.

Crunch.

Still silence.

Crunch.

Then… a soft laugh slipped from your nose.

Bakugo’s gaze flicked toward you immediately. His jaw eased.

“Tch. Finally.”

You smiled a little wider, chip still halfway to your mouth.

“You’re terrible at this.”

He rolled his eyes and sat down next to you — close enough to touch.

“Yeah, well. I’m tryna learn, alright?”

You leaned into him just a little.

“You’re doing okay.”

He didn’t say anything.

But he didn’t move away, either.

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[satsugo]

୨୧ grumpy bf!bakugo grumbles and sulks while you walk to far ahead. then grabs your sleeve like he didn't just call you annoying. enjoy love bug! mlist.

bakugo katsuki x reader

The sidewalk was cracked in places — just like Bakugo’s mood.

You were a few paces ahead of him, walking fast, arms swinging, a skip in your step like the late afternoon sun had personally charged your battery.

Bakugo lagged behind with his hands in his pockets, jaw tight, hood up, scowl deeper than usual.

“Why the hell are you speed-walking?” he grumbled. “This ain’t a damn race.”

You didn’t slow down. “Maybe if you kept up for once, old man!”

He huffed. Loudly. Dramatically. Then stopped walking altogether.

You noticed a beat later, turning around mid-step. “What now?”

Bakugo didn’t answer at first. Just stood there, eyes half-lidded, lips pressed into a flat line.

“You’re annoying,” he muttered.

You blinked, confused. “Okay? And?”

He stalked forward — slow, steady, all heat and quiet frustration. You thought maybe he was about to scold you again.

Instead, he grabbed your sleeve.

Not your hand. Your sleeve.

A soft tug. Subtle. Like he didn’t want to admit he was the one who moved closer.

Your breath caught, but you didn’t say anything.

So he did.

“Stay close, dumbass.”

You didn’t reply — just bit your lip and looked away, smiling like an idiot.

And if his hand stayed there — fingers curled around the cuff of your hoodie the whole walk home — neither of you brought it up.

Not even once.

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[satsugo]

୨୧ you mention a coworker being “sweet.” gojo doesn’t like that. later that night, he shows you what happens when someone else touches what’s his. mlist

yandere!gojo gets extra mean when he’s jealous — but don’t worry, he kisses it better after. sry I've been stuck in a yandere x reader mood! hope you enjoyed the chaos, sweetness ♡ reblogs and screams in the tags are always welcome.

gojo satoru x reader

minors do not interact. this piece is intended for 18+ audiences. contains the following: yandere behavior, hand-tying (with a blindfold), oral (fem receiving), rough possessive language, overstimulation, mild threat kink, praise kink, soft aftercare.

It started as a joke.

You were curled up on the couch beside him, laughing about your day, sipping wine, legs draped across his lap. He was loose-limbed and quiet, eyes half-lidded, lips curled into a lazy smile.

“He’s actually really sweet,” you said. “Like… surprisingly nice. Not weird or flirty. Just normal. Which is rare at work.”

Gojo’s fingers stilled on your calf.

You didn’t notice.

“He brought me a coffee this morning,” you added. “Exactly how I like it. No cream.”

He hummed — not a happy sound.

You blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, brushing his thumb over your ankle. “Just… wondering how he knows how you like your coffee.”

You shrugged. “I talk about it all the time. Probably overheard.”

His jaw flexed.

“Did you thank him?”

“Well… yeah?”

Gojo didn’t respond. Just leaned back, silent. Thoughtful.

You didn’t realize the shift until later.

You woke up to soft sheets and quiet tension. Hands above your head. Tied — not tightly, but firm enough. Gojo’s silk blindfold wrapped around your wrists.

“Satoru?”

He didn’t answer right away.

You felt him before you saw him — warm breath at your neck, one knee pushing between your thighs, bare skin pressing into yours.

“Was he sweet like this?” he murmured against your collarbone. “Did he make you feel special?”

You squirmed. “What—”

“I’ve let you off easy,” he whispered, tongue grazing your pulse. “Let you laugh, let you talk. But you don’t get to smile about other men. You don’t get to call them sweet.”

His hand slid between your legs — warm, confident, claiming.

“That’s mine.”

You whimpered as his fingers teased your slit, already soaked. He chuckled darkly.

“You say one thing,” he said, biting your earlobe, “but your body says another.”

“I wasn’t flirting—”

“I know.” His voice dipped, almost gentle. “But he thought about it. Bet he imagined what you sound like when you come.”

You tried to pull your hands free — instinct — but the blindfold held firm.

“Shh,” he murmured. “You don’t need those.”

Then his mouth was on you.

Hot. Wet. Starving.

He spread your thighs wide, tongue dragging through your folds, groaning like the taste alone was enough to anchor him.

“You don’t even get it,” he panted between licks. “You don’t see how good you are. How fuckin’ lucky I am.”

You gasped, hips rising.

He gripped your thighs tighter.

“No. Stay still.”

His tongue circled your clit, slow and intentional, then sucked — just once, hard enough to make you cry out.

“He’ll never see you like this,” Gojo growled. “Never get to hear these sounds. Never get this messy for him.”

Your orgasm hit like a wave, legs shaking, breath hitching as he kept licking through it.

He let you come down, slowly, gently. Pressed kisses up your stomach, over your breasts, to your throat.

You couldn’t see him. Could only feel the weight of his stare.

“Only I get this,” he whispered. “Say it.”

“Only you,” you breathed. “Only you.”

He kissed your lips then — deep and slow, like the fury had drained and left only reverence.

“Good girl.”

Later, your hands freed, you curled into his chest. His fingers ran through your hair, light and soothing.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I just… don’t like sharing.”

You smiled against his skin. “You never have.”

“You’re mine,” he whispered again. “That won’t change.”

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[satsugo]

I already have it drafted but not sure if I should post it or not!!

say safe, pls say hydrated, and take care of yourselves for me! I love you all <3 @satsugo

୨୧ You tried to sneak out after a one-night stand. Gojo wakes up — calm, shirtless, and not okay with being left behind. What follows is possessive touches, quiet threats, and a reminder of who you belong to.

I wanted to write something that felt like a slow unravel — soft words, sharp intentions, and Gojo being terrifyingly calm in the way only he can be. just a lil treat for the yandere girlies ♡ hope it ruins you in the best way. mlist

gojo satoru x reader

minors do not interact. this piece is intended for 18+ audiences.

The floor was cold beneath your bare feet as you tiptoed across the suite.

Gojo’s apartment was too clean — pristine white walls, muted city lights pouring through wide windows, and expensive silence that made your breath feel too loud. Your dress from the night before was clutched in one hand, wrinkled and still smelling faintly like sweat and cologne. You hadn’t even put your shoes back on yet.

He was still in bed, you were sure of it. He’d been wrapped in those dark gray sheets when you slid out, dead silent. You hadn’t dared to glance back.

Until now.

“Y’know,” a voice drawled behind you — slow, amused, terrifyingly awake. “If you really wanted to leave quietly, you probably shouldn’t have stolen my shirt.”

You froze mid-step, breath caught like prey in a trap.

He was sitting up now. Hair messier than before. One long arm braced behind him, the other pushing the sheets off his bare torso. His blindfold was gone, tossed somewhere on the nightstand, and his icy blue eyes caught the dim light like sharpened crystal.

You swallowed.

“It was cold,” you offered, lamely.

“Oh, totally,” he said, voice light and sarcastic. “That’s why you’re sneaking out like you killed somebody.”

You turned slowly. “I didn’t think you'd care—”

Gojo laughed. Not loud — just sharp, like a knife sliding across glass.

“You didn’t think I’d care?” he repeated. “Sweetheart… I’ve had your name circling my brain since the second you touched me.”

He stood, bare feet whispering across the hardwood as he stalked toward you — tall, loose-limbed, terrifyingly calm.

You backed up.

Bad idea.

He moved faster, one hand pressing against the wall just beside your head, caging you without even touching you.

“That’s mine,” he said softly, flicking the hem of the shirt you were wearing. His shirt — white, oversized, the one that hung just a little too low on you and hit just high enough on your thighs to drive him insane.

“You mean the shirt?”

His head tilted. “I mean you.”

You went quiet, breath shaky. “We hooked up once.”

“So?” Gojo smiled, slow and bright — but his eyes didn’t match. They burned. “You don’t do that with someone like me and leave. That’s not how this works.”

You opened your mouth, maybe to argue. But the words died on your tongue the second his fingers hooked under the shirt’s hem and pushed up — slow, deliberate, warm palms skating along the skin of your thighs.

“W-Wait—” You shifted, but he just stepped closer, pressing the full heat of his body into yours.

“Don’t run,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear now. “You’ll only make me chase you. And you won’t like how that ends.”

Your breath hitched. His fingers kept moving — slipping higher, thumbs brushing over the crease of your hips, teeth grazing the shell of your ear.

“I liked seeing you in my shirt,” he said softly. “But I like you better out of it.”

You shivered.

Then he tugged — not gently. The shirt lifted over your head, arms caught for a moment before he pulled it free and tossed it aside. You were bare beneath, breathless and pressed against the wall like you didn’t know what to say.

“Pretty little thing,” Gojo murmured, fingers trailing over your bare stomach. “You really thought you could disappear from me? After the way you moaned my name last night?”

You blushed — visibly. It made his eyes darken.

He kissed you. Rough, breath-stealing, like he was trying to taste every sound you’d ever made. You clutched at his shoulders — and it hit you all over again just how strong he was. How fast he could crush you. But he didn’t.

Not yet.

“Bed,” he said. “Now.”

He didn’t yell — didn’t need to. You obeyed without thinking, legs shaky as you moved. He followed like a storm.

The sheets were still warm when he pushed you down, straddling you easily. His hands roamed — over your breasts, down your sides, fingers memorizing every inch like he’d been given a test on it.

“You looked so cute sneaking out,” he murmured, lips grazing your skin as he moved lower. “But you’re not going anywhere now. You hear me?”

You nodded — breathless, wrecked, unsure if it was fear or desire curling low in your stomach.

Maybe both.

He kissed the inside of your thigh, slow and lingering, before glancing up with those impossible blue eyes.

“I’m gonna remind you exactly who you belong to.”

And when he finally lowered his mouth to you — all heat, tongue, and expert cruelty — you forgot your own name.

But you remembered his.

Over and over and over again.

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[satsugo]

୨୧ sent to kill the beast haunting the woods, you find him instead — and he’s not interested in letting you leave unclaimed. mlist.

werewolf!bakugo is the kind of beast who doesn’t just take — he claims. oral, knotting, marking, possessive af energy. hope you enjoyed the chaos, sweetness ♡ reblogs and screams in the tags are always welcome.

bakugo katsuki x reader

minors do not interact. this piece is intended for 18+ audiences. contains the following: non-human (werewolf) smut, aggressive behavior, rough sex, knotting, oral (fem receiving), possessive language, threat kink, marking, predator/prey dynamics, slight dubcon vibes, minor clothing destruction.

The woods were quiet. Too quiet.

No birdsong. No wind. Just the heavy press of fog curling through the trees, thick enough to choke on. You’d tracked the creature for days — claw marks too large to be bear, snarls that echoed past midnight, livestock torn apart in seconds. Whatever it was, it didn’t just kill. It hunted.

And now… so were you.

Silver-tipped bolts. Moon-oil traps. Knife strapped to your thigh.

You were ready.

Until a voice snapped the air behind you like a wire pulled tight.

“You’re a long fuckin’ way from home, sweetheart.”

You spun, arrow drawn — but too late.

A blur of muscle, heat, and red eyes slammed into you, knocking the bow from your hands. You hit the ground hard, breath gone, the weight of something inhuman pressing you into the dirt.

Claws. Fangs. Broad shoulders and wild ash-blond hair.

You’d expected a beast.

But he was also… a man.

Sort of.

His grin was all fang and cruelty. Blood still wet on his jaw. His bare chest heaved above you, warm and streaked with dirt, his pants low on his hips, claws twitching at his sides.

“Another hunter,” he growled. “How cute.”

You kicked. He caught your ankle in one hand — tight.

“Feisty,” he muttered, dragging your leg higher. “Too bad you smell like fear. That ruins the taste.”

“You’re the one that’s gonna be dead,” you hissed, grabbing your dagger.

He slapped it away with a snarl. “No weapons. Not anymore.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. “Just fucking kill me then.”

He laughed — dark, low, teeth flashing. “Kill you?”

He leaned down, nose brushing your cheek, inhaling deep.

“Nah,” he rasped. “You smell like mine.”

You froze.

“Don’t play dumb,” he snarled. “You came out here lookin’ to die or get fucked. Which is it?”

Your lips parted — to scream, to curse, you didn’t know — but then his mouth was on yours. Hot, rough, consuming.Tongue forcing past your lips like he had every right to it.

You bit him.

He growled, bit back — hard enough to draw blood.

“I like you,” he snarled. “I’m gonna ruin you.”

He yanked you up like you weighed nothing, pressing you to a tree. Bark scraped your back, but all you could focus on was the heat of him, the way his hands tore at your clothes with no patience, just raw need.

“Gonna mark you,” he growled. “Right fuckin’ here.”

His claws dragged down your thighs, leaving red streaks that burned. Your pants were gone in seconds. He shoved his nose between your legs and moaned.

“Fuck, you're already wet.”

You hated the way your hips twitched. The way your body betrayed you.

He noticed.

“Thought you came out here to kill me,” he sneered, dragging a claw up your inner thigh. “You sure don’t smell like it now.”

Then his mouth was on you — hot, fast, tongue lapping like a beast starved. He groaned against your cunt, buried his face deeper, arms locking around your thighs as you writhed.

“Stay still,” he snarled, voice muffled. “Wanna taste every fuckin’ drop.”

You cried out, legs trembling, grinding against him before you could stop yourself.

“That’s it,” he grunted, licking up your slick. “Give it up. Gimme what’s mine.”

You came hard, head thrown back, whimpering into the trees.

But he wasn’t done.

He stood, undoing his pants, cock thick and leaking — twitching with need.

“I ain’t gentle,” he growled, pressing the tip to your entrance. “You want soft, go find a human.”

Then he slammed in.

You screamed — from the stretch, from the burn, from the size.

He didn’t give you time to adjust. Didn’t want to. His hips pistoned into yours like a beast claiming a mate, hands gripping your waist so tight you’d bruise.

“You feel that?” he panted. “That’s mine. My cock. My fuckin’ cunt. Say it.”

You moaned, nails digging into his shoulders.

“Say it, or I’ll knot you right here in the dirt.”

“Yours—fuck—yours!”

He snarled, burying himself deeper. “That’s right. Gonna fill you up. Gonna leave you leaking and marked and mine.”

You came again — hard, crying out, body convulsing around him.

And when he came? It was with a roar, claws digging into the tree behind you, knot swelling as he locked himself deep inside your soaked heat.

You sobbed — overwhelmed, trembling.

He stayed there, panting, eyes wild and red as he licked sweat from your throat.

“You’re not leaving this forest,” he said softly.

“Why?”

“Because now…” he whispered, nose pressed to your pulse, lips curled into a grin. “…you belong to the fucking beast.”

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[satsugo]

୨୧ postpartum. the baby’s asleep. gojo misses you — all of you. mlist

i wanted this to feel like healing and hunger at the same time — soft praise, quiet obsession, and the kind of love that worships stretch marks and leaking skin. to anyone who’s ever felt unseen after giving everything: this one’s for you ♡

gojo satoru x reader

minors do not interact. this piece is intended for 18+ audiences. contains the following: postpartum body discussion, lactation kink, oral (fem receiving), soft obsession/yandere undertones, extreme tenderness, possessive praise, emotional vulnerability, and light breeding talk.

The baby is finally asleep.

Swaddled tight in his bassinet, little sighs puffing from his nose. One hand peeking out, tiny fingers twitching in dreamland.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you sit down. A soft blanket draped over your lap. Shirt still unbuttoned from the last feed. Your body aches — warm and sore, stretched and softened in places you’re still learning to accept.

The apartment is quiet.

Until you hear the soft pad of bare feet and the quiet click of the bathroom door opening. Gojo steps out, shirtless, damp towel slung around his neck, hair dripping in soft silver waves. He smells like soap and warmth and everything safe. But the look in his eyes?

Starving.

He sees you — shirt rumpled, breast slightly exposed, stretch marks tracing your hips, belly still swollen and tender — and stops cold in the doorway. His expression shifts, like something in his chest just cracked open.

“...You’re fucking stunning.”

You scoff under your breath, self-conscious. “I haven’t even showered. I smell like spit-up and milk. My hair—”

“Stop.”

His voice cuts through, low and rough — like it hurts him to hear you speak that way about yourself.

He walks over slow. Like you’re sacred. Like he’s afraid to touch something so breakable.

Then he kneels in front of you, both hands coming to rest gently on your thighs, warm and grounding. His thumbs rub slow, reverent circles into your skin.

“Do you even know what you’ve done?” he whispers, looking up at you like you hung the damn stars. “You made our son. With your body. You carried him, fed him, loved him. Every single part of you right now—” his palm smooths over your belly, still soft, still healing “—is the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your throat tightens. You blink hard, trying not to cry.

“You’re gonna make me cry,” you whisper.

He smiles. Kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

“I already did,” he murmurs. “You should’ve seen me holding him in the hospital. I was a wreck.”

You laugh softly, burying your face in his damp hair as he leans in.

But when his lips trail lower—down your neck, across your collarbone, brushing the swell of your breast—you feel it. That familiar ache. That low, pulsing need you’ve ignored for weeks.

His hand slides under the blanket, up your belly. His thumb grazes under the curve of your breast, then stills.

“You’re leaking,” he whispers, gaze fixed on the tiny droplet forming at your nipple.

Your breath catches.

“I should go pump—”

“No,” he says, voice husky. “Don’t move.”

“Toru—what are you—”

“Let me.”

Before you can argue, his lips wrap around your nipple. Tongue warm, mouth soft and full. He licks the droplet away, then sucks — gentle, slow, reverent.

A gasp escapes you.

The stimulation is instant — not just physical, but deep, like something in you that’s been aching finally gives way. You whimper, thighs twitching beneath the blanket as he nurses with slow, deliberate care. Not for milk — but for you.

“Still so sensitive,” he murmurs, switching sides. “You were made for this. Look at you. Feeding our baby… and still tasting so sweet.”

Your fingers thread into his hair, the other hand gripping the edge of the blanket. Your whole body trembles, not from exhaustion this time — from the low burn of pleasure spreading under your skin.

“I’ve missed you,” you whisper.

He looks up, lips wet, pupils dark.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he replies. “Every night you held him, every time you fell asleep in that rocking chair—I wanted you so bad I couldn’t fucking breathe.”

He rises slowly and lifts you like you weigh nothing.

“Toru—wait—”

“I know,” he murmurs. “You’re healing. I’m not gonna rush you.”

He lays you down gently, blanket falling away. Presses soft, patient kisses to your thighs. His mouth trails lower, until his tongue grazes your skin with aching tenderness.

“I just wanna love you,” he breathes. “Every inch. Every part. Nothing rough. Just this.”

Then he devours you — slow, deep, worshipful.

His hands grip your hips but never hold tight. His tongue moves with precision and reverence, drawing soft cries from your lips and tremors from your thighs. You try to stay quiet — the baby — but it’s no use. He’s too good. He always is.

When you come, it’s with a sobbed-out breath, your fingers curled into his hair, your chest shaking with relief.

He kisses your inner thigh, then crawls up beside you and gathers you into his arms.

One hand finds your breast again. His thumb gently strokes another tiny stream of milk.

“You’re gonna hate me for saying this,” he mutters, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“What now?”

He grins.

“…I already wanna knock you up again.”

You swat his shoulder. “Satoru—”

“I’m serious,” he hums against your neck. “I wanna fill you again. Watch you grow. Glow. Leak. Carry.”

“You’re absolutely insane.”

“Nah. I’m just in love,” he says. “Obsessed. And never getting over this body.”

He glances at the bassinet, where your son sighs in his sleep.

“We made him. With this.” His hand slides down to stroke your belly. “So yeah… I want more. As many as you’ll give me.”

You sigh, still catching your breath, still glowing from his touch.

“…Give me at least six months.”

His eyes gleam, wicked.

“Deal. But I’m not pulling out once.”

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[satsugo]

୨୧ bakugo buys you a collar — nothing dramatic, just black leather with a tiny grenade charm. he wants you to wear it so everyone knows you’re his. when you refuse? he makes sure you understand exactly what it means to belong to him. mlist.

bakugo katsuki x reader

minors do not interact. this piece is intended for 18+ audiences. contains the following: explicit sexual content, collar kink, possessive yandere behavior, dominance/submission, oral (fem receiving), face-fucking, light choking, manhandling, control themes, and emotional intensity

It sat neatly on the dresser. A black leather choker — soft, minimal, sleek. At its center hung a tiny matte grenade charm. His.

You didn’t touch it when you saw it. Just stared. Part of you thought he was joking. Some twisted, clingy little joke masked behind that sharp mouth and even sharper hands.

But then he said it — dead serious.

“Wear it.”

You looked up, halfway through brushing your hair. “What?”

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. Shirtless, sweat still glistening on his chest from the gym. “The collar. Put it on.”

“Bakugo…”

His jaw ticked. “I’m not askin’ twice.”

You tried to brush it off with a scoff. “Come on, it’s a little much. I’m not walking around with a collar like I’m—”

“So they know you’re taken.”

His voice dropped. Low. Dangerous. He pushed off the doorframe and walked toward you — slow, steady, like a fuse hissing just before detonation.

“You’re mine,” he said. “That’s what it means. It’s not just a fuckin’ accessory.”

You swallowed. “Katsuki…”

But he was already behind you. His hand reached down to the dresser, fingers closing around the collar. You watched him in the mirror — the way his eyes narrowed, the way he pulled your hair aside and pressed the cool leather to your neck.

“You don’t wanna wear it?” he murmured. “Fine.”

He turned you around, shoved the brush out of your hand, and pushed you back toward the bed. You stumbled, caught yourself, and looked up to see him stripping off his sweats like you’d challenged him to a fight.

“I’ll remind you why you fuckin’ should.”

You barely had time to speak before he was on you — hands on your thighs, dragging you to the edge of the mattress. He pushed your legs apart, knelt down between them, and yanked your panties to the side like they offended him.

His mouth was on you fast — hot tongue, messy pressure, groaning like you were the only thing he wanted in the goddamn world. Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you gasped and writhed beneath him.

“Katsu—” you whined. “Oh my god—”

“Not god,” he muttered against you. “Me.”

You cried out when he slid two fingers inside you — rough, fast, curling them until your back arched and your thighs trembled. He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down. When you came, he kept going — dragging it out until your legs twitched and your breath caught in your throat.

Then he was standing. Undoing his boxers. His cock was already hard, flushed, veins prominent and leaking at the tip. He didn’t stroke it — just looked down at you with something wild in his eyes.

“On your knees.”

You obeyed — breathless, body shaking, too worked up to think.

“Hands behind your back.”

You did.

“Mouth open.”

You opened it.

And when he slid his cock in — slow, deliberate, groaning as your lips wrapped around him — he grabbed the collar from the bed and looped it around your neck.

He buckled it while he was still inside your mouth.

“There,” he growled. “Now you’re mine. Like you fuckin’ should be.”

You moaned around him, eyes wet, throat full — and that just made him grin.

He didn’t pull out. Just tightened his grip on your hair and started moving — rough thrusts, deep and fast and greedy. He groaned when you gagged, when tears welled in your eyes, when you looked up at him helplessly, ruined.

“You shoulda worn it,” he panted. “Coulda been gentle.”

Later — after he bent you over the mattress and took you from behind, hand around your throat, collar clinking against your skin with every thrust — he pulled you into his lap.

You sat there, sweaty, dazed, still shaking.

He kissed your shoulder.

“Keep it on,” he murmured, voice suddenly soft. “Looks good on you.”

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[satsugo]

୨୧ someone flirted with you in public. you tried to brush it off — but bakugo didn’t. he kept his mouth shut until you got home. and then he made sure you remembered who you belong to. mlist.

jealous!bakugo hits like a truck and i regret nothing 😌 i needed him feral, possessive, and just soft enough at the edges to make it hurt good. hope you enjoyed the chaos, sweetness ♡ reblogs and screams in the tags are always welcome.

bakugo katsuki x reader

minors do not interact. this piece is intended for 18+ audiences. contains the following: rough, possessive sex, dominant behavior, jealousy, yandere undertones, light restraint, name-calling, and some bruising-level grip

You knew he saw it.

The way that guy smiled at you in the parking lot — slow, testing, lingering just a little too long. You hadn’t even smiled back, just laughed nervously, muttered something about your boyfriend, and turned away.

But Bakugo had seen it.

He hadn’t said a word the entire ride home. Eyes straight ahead. One hand gripping the wheel, knuckles white. The air in the car had been thick with tension — heavy, sparking, like the silence before a thunderclap.

Now you were inside, door barely closed, when he finally spoke.

"Upstairs. Now."

You blinked, halfway through taking off your shoes. “Kats—”

“I said now.”

You followed him without a word, stomach fluttering, heart pounding. You could feel it — something dangerous rolling off of him in waves. Not rage. Not yet.

But something close.

He shut the bedroom door behind you and turned to face you slowly.

"You think that shit's funny?" he asked, voice low, almost calm.

“What—”

“That asshole. The way he looked at you.” His eyes narrowed. “You liked that?”

“No,” you said quickly. “I didn’t even flirt back—”

“That ain’t the fuckin’ point.”

He stepped forward. You stepped back. A mistake. He followed you until your back hit the dresser, until his hands were braced on either side of your waist.

“I don’t like when people look at what’s mine,” he said. “And I really don’t like when you don’t shut it down fast enough.”

“Katsuki—”

He cut you off by grabbing your face — not harsh, but firm. Fingers pressing into your cheeks, eyes locked on yours like he could burn the truth out of you.

“You mine or not?”

You hesitated — breath caught in your throat.

Bad move.

He scoffed and let go of your face only to grab at your clothes — shirt over your head, pants yanked down quick and rough, panties barely surviving. His mouth was on you in seconds — biting kisses against your throat, teeth dragging, lips bruising.

"Get on the bed."

You scrambled back, chest heaving, legs shaking as you climbed onto the mattress. He was on you before you could settle — large hands gripping your thighs, pushing them apart with no patience at all.

His mouth found your chest first — messy kisses, rough hands palming your skin, fingers rolling your nipples until you gasped.

“Say it,” he growled against your skin.

You shook your head, breathless, defiant just to test him. His eyes darkened.

"Say. It."

His fingers slid down your stomach, between your thighs, finding you soaked and needy and not hiding it well.

"Yeah," he muttered, smirking. “That’s what I thought.”

He slipped two fingers in without warning, rough and deep. Your back arched, a sharp cry leaving your lips as he curled them just right.

"Who's makin’ you feel like this, huh?"

"Y-You—"

He moved faster. “Louder.”

"You!"

“That’s right,” he growled, mouth ghosting over yours. “Me. No one else. You so much as smile at another bastard like that again—”

"I didn’t—ah—mean to—"

He pressed his forehead against yours, sweat beading at his brow, chest rising fast.

"You’re mine," he said again, slower this time. “You don’t look at them. You don’t let them look at you. You look at me.”

Then he was inside you.

No warning, no prep — just one sharp, needy thrust that made your eyes roll back. He didn’t stop. Didn’t pause. Just moved — rough, desperate, hips snapping into yours like he couldn’t get deep enough.

You clawed at his back, at the sheets, at anything to ground yourself, but he gave you nothing but his body and his voice and the sharp slap of skin on skin.

“You feel that?” he gritted out. “That’s what’s gonna be stuck in you for days.”

“Katsuki—”

"Say it again."

You were crying now — overwhelmed, full, overstimulated.

“Yours. I’m yours. Katsuki, please—”

He groaned — low, guttural — and shoved himself deeper.

“Good girl.”

And when you came — thighs shaking, voice wrecked — he held you down, forehead against your collarbone, whispering it again and again like a prayer he refused to forget:

“Mine. Mine. Mine.”

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[satsugo]

୨୧ You tried to sneak out after a one-night stand. Gojo wakes up — calm, shirtless, and not okay with being left behind. What follows is possessive touches, quiet threats, and a reminder of who you belong to.

I wanted to write something that felt like a slow unravel — soft words, sharp intentions, and Gojo being terrifyingly calm in the way only he can be. just a lil treat for the yandere girlies ♡ hope it ruins you in the best way. mlist

gojo satoru x reader

minors do not interact. this piece is intended for 18+ audiences.

The floor was cold beneath your bare feet as you tiptoed across the suite.

Gojo’s apartment was too clean — pristine white walls, muted city lights pouring through wide windows, and expensive silence that made your breath feel too loud. Your dress from the night before was clutched in one hand, wrinkled and still smelling faintly like sweat and cologne. You hadn’t even put your shoes back on yet.

He was still in bed, you were sure of it. He’d been wrapped in those dark gray sheets when you slid out, dead silent. You hadn’t dared to glance back.

Until now.

“Y’know,” a voice drawled behind you — slow, amused, terrifyingly awake. “If you really wanted to leave quietly, you probably shouldn’t have stolen my shirt.”

You froze mid-step, breath caught like prey in a trap.

He was sitting up now. Hair messier than before. One long arm braced behind him, the other pushing the sheets off his bare torso. His blindfold was gone, tossed somewhere on the nightstand, and his icy blue eyes caught the dim light like sharpened crystal.

You swallowed.

“It was cold,” you offered, lamely.

“Oh, totally,” he said, voice light and sarcastic. “That’s why you’re sneaking out like you killed somebody.”

You turned slowly. “I didn’t think you'd care—”

Gojo laughed. Not loud — just sharp, like a knife sliding across glass.

“You didn’t think I’d care?” he repeated. “Sweetheart… I’ve had your name circling my brain since the second you touched me.”

He stood, bare feet whispering across the hardwood as he stalked toward you — tall, loose-limbed, terrifyingly calm.

You backed up.

Bad idea.

He moved faster, one hand pressing against the wall just beside your head, caging you without even touching you.

“That’s mine,” he said softly, flicking the hem of the shirt you were wearing. His shirt — white, oversized, the one that hung just a little too low on you and hit just high enough on your thighs to drive him insane.

“You mean the shirt?”

His head tilted. “I mean you.”

You went quiet, breath shaky. “We hooked up once.”

“So?” Gojo smiled, slow and bright — but his eyes didn’t match. They burned. “You don’t do that with someone like me and leave. That’s not how this works.”

You opened your mouth, maybe to argue. But the words died on your tongue the second his fingers hooked under the shirt’s hem and pushed up — slow, deliberate, warm palms skating along the skin of your thighs.

“W-Wait—” You shifted, but he just stepped closer, pressing the full heat of his body into yours.

“Don’t run,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear now. “You’ll only make me chase you. And you won’t like how that ends.”

Your breath hitched. His fingers kept moving — slipping higher, thumbs brushing over the crease of your hips, teeth grazing the shell of your ear.

“I liked seeing you in my shirt,” he said softly. “But I like you better out of it.”

You shivered.

Then he tugged — not gently. The shirt lifted over your head, arms caught for a moment before he pulled it free and tossed it aside. You were bare beneath, breathless and pressed against the wall like you didn’t know what to say.

“Pretty little thing,” Gojo murmured, fingers trailing over your bare stomach. “You really thought you could disappear from me? After the way you moaned my name last night?”

You blushed — visibly. It made his eyes darken.

He kissed you. Rough, breath-stealing, like he was trying to taste every sound you’d ever made. You clutched at his shoulders — and it hit you all over again just how strong he was. How fast he could crush you. But he didn’t.

Not yet.

“Bed,” he said. “Now.”

He didn’t yell — didn’t need to. You obeyed without thinking, legs shaky as you moved. He followed like a storm.

The sheets were still warm when he pushed you down, straddling you easily. His hands roamed — over your breasts, down your sides, fingers memorizing every inch like he’d been given a test on it.

“You looked so cute sneaking out,” he murmured, lips grazing your skin as he moved lower. “But you’re not going anywhere now. You hear me?”

You nodded — breathless, wrecked, unsure if it was fear or desire curling low in your stomach.

Maybe both.

He kissed the inside of your thigh, slow and lingering, before glancing up with those impossible blue eyes.

“I’m gonna remind you exactly who you belong to.”

And when he finally lowered his mouth to you — all heat, tongue, and expert cruelty — you forgot your own name.

But you remembered his.

Over and over and over again.

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[satsugo]

୨୧ like imagine booking a flight with bakugo, he pays for y’all to sit together, and some random lady thinks she’s bold enough to claim your seat??? you’re ready to go full feral but he gets there first 😭 protective, pissed-off katsuki just hits different okay mlist.

bakugo katsuki x reader

He paid extra.

That’s the only thing keeping him from blowing up the goddamn row — the fact that his name is on the ticket and he paid to sit right next to you. Not behind you. Not across the aisle. Next to you.

But now, there’s this woman — maybe late twenties, maybe just miserable — parked in your spot like she owns the whole damn cabin. Earbuds in, tray table already down, arms spilling over the divider like the seat was hers by birthright.

“No,” she says, flat and smug when you politely point out that she's in the wrong seat. “I’m not moving. The flight's full.”

Your eye twitches. You’re halfway to popping off — ready to ruin her whole day — but before you can even breathe fire, a hand slips around your waist, grounding.

Bakugo.

He steps forward, jaw set like stone, and says — low, venomous, restrained:

“She’s in the wrong fucking seat.”

It’s not loud. Not yet. But the weight behind it? Unmistakable.

The woman scoffs, opens her mouth to argue — but Bakugo’s eyes are already narrowing. “I paid extra to sit next to her. You wanna call the attendant or should I?”

You watch her shrink. A muttered curse, a grumble, and then — with more noise than necessary — she stands up and stomps down the aisle.

Bakugo doesn’t even look at her. Just turns to you, gaze flicking over your face.

“Tch. You were really about to go full psycho on her, huh?”

You blink. “And you weren’t?”

He smirks — but it’s soft, barely there. “Nah. I was just gonna make her cry.”

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[satsugo]

୨୧ gojo standing way too close, doing nothing but looking at you like he knows every thought in your head 😭 and the worst part? he’s right. mlist.

gojo satoru x reader

"You're shaking," he says, voice feather-light as his thumb brushes your wrist.

You don’t answer. Can’t. Not when he’s this close — hair slightly tousled, blindfold resting on his collar like he took it off just to make you squirm. His eyes flick over your face like he’s reading something you didn’t mean to say out loud.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, smirking like he already knows the answer.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, but it comes out shaky.

Gojo hums, the sound low and full of amusement. “Funny. You say fine, but your pulse says ‘kiss me before I lose it.’” He tilts his head. “Which one should I believe, sweetheart?”

He doesn’t touch you, not really. Just hovers — hands in his pockets, lips inches from yours, so annoyingly patient. He wants you to break first.

And god, he’s going to win, isn’t he?

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[satsugo]

୨୧ imagine gojo catching you looking a little too long, and instead of letting it slide, he corners you just to hear what you’ll say. like. sir. please. i was minding my business??? mlist.

gojo satoru x reader

minors do not interact. this piece is suggestive in nature and intended for 18+ audiences.

Your back hits the wall with a soft thud, his palm pressed flat beside your head — not to trap you, but to make sure you don’t run. Not this time.

"You're looking at me like you want something," Gojo murmurs, voice low and syrupy-smooth, tilting his head just enough for his breath to fan your cheek. “You gonna use your words, sweetheart? Or should I keep guessing?”

His blindfold hangs loose around his neck, eyes bare and burning, so intensely blue it’s hard to breathe. He’s close enough that you can smell the faint trace of his cologne — warm, clean, like freshly laundered sheets tangled around something sinful.

You swallow, throat tight. “You’re such a menace.”

“Mmhm,” he hums, grinning like it’s a compliment. “But I only get like this when it’s you. Isn’t that sweet?”

His fingers brush along your jaw, teasing, patient. He could devour you whole — and you’d let him.

"One word," he whispers, voice dark velvet. "And I’ll make the world disappear for you."

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[satsugo]

˖ ֹ੭୧ satsu’s terms & condition ⊹ ࣪ ⑅

၄၃ 𝐚bout 𝐭his 𝐛log

ᯓ this blog contains mature content and is not suitable for minors. please engage responsibly — 18+ only.

ᯓ my heart is in serious awe every time someone compliments my work 😻── likes, comments, and reblogs mean the world to me and keep me inspired ♡

ᯓ i always include trigger/content warnings where necessary — so please don’t worry, your comfort is important to me. ૮₍˃̵֊ ˂̵ ₎ა

ᯓ if i ever miss a warning or make a mistake in a post, please be kind and let me know privately. i truly appreciate it ♡

ᯓ do not copy, steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work. this space is my labor of love — please respect that.

ᯓ always be respectful and polite when sending requests. this space is built on mutual love and shared creativity ♡

ᯓ and lastly, be respectful. hate, rudeness, or cruelty will get you blocked without a second thought. (but if you ever have a genuine concern or question, feel free to dm me!)

၄၃ 𝐫equest 𝐫ules (closed)

ᯓ yes — i do write cnc, dub-con, and dark content upon request, but please know i’m still learning how to approach these topics carefully. i’ll always do my best to treat them thoughtfully ♡

ᯓ i happily accept long fic requests — just make sure your idea is clear and detailed! vague prompts may be skipped.

ᯓ always be respectful and polite when sending requests. this space is built on mutual love and shared creativity ♡

this space is a little haven — soft chaos, spicy dreams, and stories spun with love. thank you for reading and respecting my boundaries ♡

hard no's ❌

ˊ noncon involving minors / aged-down characters

ˊ underage x adult ships

ˊ beastiality, vore, or excessive gore

ˊ scat, piss, or unsanitary kinks

ˊ glorified abuse (unless explored narratively with depth and emotional weight)

ˊ anything racist, transphobic, ableist, xenophobic, or otherwise harmful

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[satsugo]

₊˚⊹ collected dreams & disasters

𖤝 — heat & honey

she's in the wrong fucking seat

you're annoying, stay close

he doesn't know how to comfort you, so he gives you snacks

𖤝 — oneshots

say it — who do you belong to? ᯓ★ˎˊ˗18+

not letting you go (literally) ᯓ★ˎˊ˗18+

marked by the beast ᯓ★ˎˊ˗18+

𖤝 — heat & honey

you're looking at me like you want something ᯓ★ˎˊ˗18+

your pulse says ‘kiss me before I lose it.

𖤝 — oneshots

you look better in my shirt (so I took the rest off) ᯓ★ˎˊ˗18+

look what we made ᯓ★ˎˊ˗18+

touch what's mine, I dare you ᯓ★ˎˊ˗18+

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[satsugo]

⋆˚ཐི༏ཋྀ󠀮｡𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮’𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

SATSU # SHE/HER. 20. LIMITLESS DARLING !

mlist 𝜗𝜚 satsu’s terms & conditions

⟢ 💌 whisper something sweet — i adore interaction! requests are currently //OPEN// for now, but you're always welcome to explore, send kind thoughts, or check out my ˚.🎀༘⋆ [terms & conditions] ˚.🎀༘⋆ to learn more about how things work around here.

stay cozy, sweetheart ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

↪💋ྀིྀི new .ᐟ . . tender works are in progress

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.