#all from getting his fingers sucked

[seraphdreams]

yuuta gets so squirmy when you suck his fingers . . it’s unlike any sensation he’s ever experienced before ; the way your tongue meticulously lavs his index, how your mouth latches onto the digit as you look up at him with those pretty eyes . . he swears he could get drunk off staring into your gaze — and when you start bobbing your head n moaning as if he's the best thing you've ever tasted, he can’t help but throw his head back and groan ; can’t help but buck his hips up because fuck, not only did you get him hard , but now he’s leaking . . help that poor boy :( he might just make a mess in his pants if you keep it up !

[thepersonperson]

Autism in JJK Part 1 (Isolation and Movies)

Notes before we start.

1) Read the light novels. They are the equivalent of Bleach's CFYOW for JJK. There is a fan translation (Book 1 & Book 2), but I will be citing the official translation from my own copies.

2) I will be mainly using the TCB scans for the manga because of their accessibility. 

3) Read the light novels.

(Click images for captions/citations.)

Preface

Dungeon Meshi is heralded as The ultimate story of incompatible autisms. Everyone recognizes Laois and most of his party as autistic. Each of these characters are able to use their specific types of autism to solve problems throughout the series.

Laois’s autistic traits in particular have drawbacks when it comes to others’ perception of him. To directly quote one of the best Dungeon Meshi text posts on this site:

“Dungeon Meshi is about a quirked up white boy on a quest to save his sister and perhaps indulge his special interest along the way. He's a man of pure heart who has done nothing but help anyone he's met. Then part way through the story you start seeing other pov characters and it turns out every single person who has met him outside his party has read his awkward social skills and love for grilling as a sign of something deeply evil and has vowed to kill him on sight.”

Using Laois as a reference, I want to argue that Jujutsu Kaisen is the penultimate story of incompatible autisms.

Addendum/Disclaimer

I’m heavily drawing from experiences with my particular brand of autism for this analysis, so I’m bound to not properly consider everything. My words should not be taken as gospel since autism is a wide spectrum that manifests differently for each individual. Certain autistic traits will show up for one person and be completely absent in another. (And I personally think JJK does a great job of showcasing this variation.)

There is also significant overlap between Autism and ADHD which I’m not qualified to make connections with. (Basically if you have ADHD feel free to explain how you see yourself in these characters too.) There’s probably other readings that have flown over my head, but please understand I’m not trying to be malicious.

The main traits I’ll be referencing are:

Social Unawareness

Bluntness (and it being perceived as rudeness)

Taking Things Literally

Double Empathy Problem (the non-autistic and the autistic have a hard time understanding each other’s way of thinking and therefore struggle to communicate with each other)

Emotional Blindness/Alexithymia (difficulties with understanding and articulating one's emotions)

Hyperfixations

Special Interests

(Stimming is left out because of Tumblr's 30 image limit. Someone else can make that post for me.)

Mahito’s Autism

Strange title section right? Allow me to defend it. Mahtio’s Domain Expansion (DE) Self-Embodiment of Perfection is localized from 自閉円頓裹 (Jihei Endonka). The first two kanji 自閉 (Jihei) create the Japanese word for Autistic. Where 自 (Ji) is self and 閉 (Hei) is close/shut. The Japanese word for Autism is 自閉症 (Jiheisho) where 症 (sho) means disease. A very literal translation of Jiheisho is “self-shut disease”.

Equating autism to an illness that causes one to shut themselves inwards is flawed in its framework, but not wrong in describing the unique isolation autistic people face. If the kanji used didn’t clue you in, Japanese society is much more hostile to the autistic than English speaking countries. This is in part due to many autistic traits being seen as socially unacceptable for deviating too much from the norm.

There’s been a whole study on this if you want to know more. (This study allowed for self-diagnosed people to participate and included non-binary gender options, so I’m comfortable using it.) Quoted directly from the source: 

“Many autistic individuals engage in social camouflage and attempt to use social interaction to obtain job opportunities and other benefits. The aforementioned ‘need’ of autistic individuals to engage in social camouflage forces them to continuously pretend that they are non-autistic. This is associated with significant manifestations of mental health deterioration, such as depression, generalised anxiety, social anxiety, suicide attempts, and burnout because of exhaustion and fatigue.”

“Markus and Kitayama refer to Japanese and other East Asian cultures as ‘cultures of interdependence’. In these cultures, the primary challenge faced by individuals is to conform without standing out and pay more attention to others than oneself. Thus, the ‘uniqueness’ of autistic people can be perceived negatively, and it can threaten relationships and interpersonal harmony within the community.”

Now what does discrimination against autistic people have to do with Mahito? Well, everything. Mahito manifested as the hatred between humans, making them unique within the Natural Disaster Curses group. This causes friction in their relationships with the other curses, mainly Jogo.

When Dagon dies, Jogo mourns. When Hanami dies, Jogo and Dagon mourn. When Mahito learns about this? They react like this.

Totally not appropriate for the situation. You could chalk it up to them being a curse, but the other curses have already shown they’re capable of caring deeply for each other. 

This isn’t the only instance of it either. In the light novels, Mahito really gets into movies to better understand humans which results in this.

Jogo simply does not know what to do with Mahito becoming a filmbro. 

Jokes aside, Mahito is using movies and other forms of media to better understand people not like themself. And despite their efforts to better grasp emotions, this causes Mahito to become even more alienated from his peers. He’s in his own little bubble and his way of thinking is boon when fighting but a bane for his relationships. There’s something very autistic about that. 

Shared Special Interests

On the flipside, Mahito’s movie and book fascination causes them to create a bond with a blind homeless old man that lives under a bridge. But it’s only because the two of them have this interest in common.

As stated in CFYOW, JJK Summer of Ashes, Autumn of Dust Chapter 3: Allegory in Darkness, Mahito has canonically read Kafka. 

And that line at the end. “It makes talking to you easy.” This is the same phrase Mahito uses when grooming Junpei. Though Mahito’s relationship with Junpei is one of manipulation, it started as something rather innocent—they both went to the theater, saw the same movie, and were annoyed by the people disrupting their viewing experience.

That small connection, their shared interest in movies caused them to bond quickly and Mahito used it for manipulation. (This is not unlike how minors in fandom spaces can be groomed by the adults around them.)

Mahito learned how to be this way in part by studying media and applying it to their actions. They can’t interact with most humans 1-on-1, so their main source of understanding them is media, which gives them this warped sense of reality. Think Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. Mahito doesn’t know better because this is all they know.

It’s no wonder they conclude that humans at the core are creatures that eat, sleep, and rape (Ch 49 Pg 18 Sorry I ran out of image space). Think of how many “the joke is sexual assault” type characters there are in Japanese media alone. (Let’s not ignore how bad it gets in American 80s comedies too.)

Mahito is essentially a blank slate with no frame of reference for morals, critical analysis, or media literacy in general. It’s not very surprising they take everything at face value and then use it for evil.

And that’s why I wanted to discuss them first. Mahito is a reflection of humans and their reaction to media has echoes in how other characters, who are probably autistic, navigate their relationships with themselves and other humans. 

Itadori Yuji’s Autism

When I say Yuji is pure and the goodest boy in the world, I’m referring to the unbridled autistic joy in which he interacts with the world. He’s not much different than Laois from Dungeon Meshi. The way Yuji introduces himself to others is unhinged. He frequently does and says things that are not socially appropriate in the slightest. Whatever comes to mind first he acts on, no filter.

But being unhinged isn’t necessarily autistic. What gives this the ‘tism is the socially inept internal logic that goes into Yuji’s decision making. Dudebros may refer to it as locking in, but it is better known as hyperfocusing. You give Yuji a task and he Will complete it, anything in his way be damned.

Ijichi gave Yuji a task. Figure out if this person is an enemy and make sure nobody gets hurt. Interrupting a convo and pantsing a guy to complete this task is Yuji autistically logicing his way around setbacks. What’s a non-violent way to get someone to leave? Stealing their pants, probably. Things like social rules don’t matter if lives are at risk. 

Don’t believe that’s socially-blind autistic logic? Let me give you this guy from 4Chan and myself as an example. As a child I was told I should never lie no matter what. At 8 years old, I did something that upset my teacher. I didn’t know I had upset my teacher until I was asked to write an apology letter by my parents. So in my little pea brain, I had no reason to apologize because that would be lying. I then wrote something along the lines of, “I’m only writing this apology because my parents are making me.” (I got yelled at for this which confused me even more. What do you mean you want me to lie, mother???)

You can see this kind of logic with the finger eating especially. Yuji took Megumi’s words very literally and ate a mummified human finger because that’s what was needed to save lives. This isn’t a one off thing either, it keeps happening over and over—Yuji taking the most literal interpretation of the words spoken to him and acting on them in the most autistic way possible.

I love the Nanamin alert especially because only Idatori Yuji would think to do that. It also a neat showcase of the double-edged sword that can come from autism. Yes, Yuji effectively and quickly relays important information to his allies, but to their enemies as well. He also does it in a way that gets him bopped on the head by Megumi. Kind of like how going along with Gojo’s plans has him bullied by his classmates.

This happens a lot too—Yuji doing what others tell him to do, filling in the blanks when they fail to elaborate on the how to, and it backfiring.

There is nothing more autistic than doing exactly as you are told and getting punished for it. 

Nanami tells Yuji not to call him Nanami-sensei. But he doesn’t tell Yuji what exactly to call him instead, so he guesses. And since Yuji is socially unaware to a degree, he comes up with Nanamin instead of the Nanami-san that would’ve been more polite.

Megumi and Panda tell Yuji to lie. But lying isn’t in his nature so he really sucks at it. Pretending he doesn’t know who Gojo is because 1) he was told to lie and 2) Gojo is a part of the group Yuji is was explicitly told not show any familiarity with, is peak autism logic.

It’s all a part of Yuji’s charm though. Despite his autistic traits getting him into plenty of trouble, they also are a big reason as to why everyone loves him. 

Yuji’s Autistic Rizz

Yuji seems to mirror other people both to better understand them and because he’s relying on them to show him how he’s supposed to act. (More on that here.) Most of the time this is played for comedic effect, but sometimes it results in instant pair-bonding. I think that’s the autism-to-autism connection being made. (It’s also known as the morphogenetic field if you’ve played 999.)

Just like how Mahito used movies to bond with Junpei, Yuji does it too. But he uses this shared interest for good and provides a counter to Mahito’s grooming.

And lookie here, he can even utilize his love of movies to bond with people who aren’t into them at all. Junpei’s mom may not get it, but she’s endeared by it. This unparalleled autistic rizz is fundamental to Yuji’s character. And in my opinion, his relationship with Todo Aoi best showcases this.

Everyone knows that Todo and Yuji’s shared love of tall women with big butts is what brought them together. But what’s most overlooked is the specific tall woman with a big butt that made this possible in the first place. Before Todo even asks Yuji for his type, Yuji makes it known he is aware of who Takada is. (He happened to see her on TV as stated in CFYOW, JJK Summer of Ashes, Autumn of Dust Ch 4 Pgs 89–90. Ijichi is the secret Takada fan.)

Takada is who prompts Todo into asking. She is also the one who appears in Todo’s delusions, guiding him to victory and driving most of the reasons behind his actions. With great confidence I can say Todo’s special interest is Takada. (And most of the fanbase assumes he’s autistic, so I don’t feel the need to explain that more.)

And what’s crazy about his special interest of his is that it fudging works. Takada and his love for manga help Todo create successful strategies. I include his love of manga because his fakeout with Mahito is a Hunter x Hunter reference.

It’s a bit spoilers to discuss how exactly this is genius, but you’ll have to trust me when I say it’s very clever. Rather than simply nodding to the source material, Todo is using the twist reveal from that scene and subverting it to help Yuji win.

This is nearly identical to Laois utilizing his special interest monster knowledge to create victories out of what would be defeats for other characters. Todo weaponizes his autism in a way that works perfect for sorcery.

But when it comes to interpersonal relationships? It destroys them. Everyone who isn’t Yuji hates Todo. 

Todo Aoi is second to Gojo Satoru when it comes to characters considering him the greatest source of stress. (Momo, Mai, and Kamo with Kokichi dedicating pages 43–46 of CFYOW JJK Thorny Road at Dawn, Chapter 2 to how much Todo stresses him out.)

They’re most annoyed with him when he talks about his special interest—Takada. She is a huge reason as to why Todo is such a good sorcerer, you could even call her The Reason he’s so good. People rely on him quite literally weaponizing his autism. But when he starts being autistic outside of sorcery? They don’t tolerate it. 

This is a recurring problem for autistic sorcerers. The very people that depend on their weaponized autism will scorn it the moment it no longer serves them directly. It’s a very Not In My Backyard (NIMBY) mentality. Sure they want all the benefits but keep the drawbacks out of their sight.

Yuji’s Loneliness

Just like Todo, Yuji suffers from social disconnect due to his autism. He feels like he struggles to understand and connect with others on a deeper level. His own feelings and other people’s feelings are sometimes a mystery to him.

On a surface level Yuji seems to be on the same wavelength as Junpei through their shared love of movies. That is until they fight each other. Yuji doesn’t understand that Junpei is acting out of grief at the start of their fight. He says something insensitive at first, but he eventually asks Junpei to spell things out so he can understand what’s going on.

It takes until the end of the Sukuna fight for Yuji to truly connect with someone—Megumi. But it’s only because they both make their feelings known directly to each other. Before that though? As discussed earlier, the autistic traits that make him good at sorcery are often off-putting to others.

I mentioned how Yuji mirrors others in what seems to be an attempt to understand others in that post I linked. In the same one I also discuss how Yuji is able to decenter himself and sync up with just about anyone. With respect to his autism, this really reads like masking to me. 

When Yuji lets that mask slip and indulges his personal hobbies, it’s a toss up on whether or not he’ll be accepted or rejected. The movies that allowed him to pairbond with Junpei don’t work for everyone. Just like Mahito with Jogo…being a filmbro causes friction with Megumi and Nobara. 

Though Yuji otherwise gets along very well with Megumi and Nobara, there is something so very relatable and sad about seeing this particular hobby of his being trashed. What’s worse is that the 2 people who would’ve matched his freak in this regard are both dead: Junpei and the one who intensified this interest of his in the first place—Gojo Satoru.

Gojo Satoru’s Autism

I must confess, this entire post got written because of this anonymous ask I was sent a while ago. I was surprised to get it since I assumed everyone understood Gojo to be autistic by default like Laois Dungeon Meshi. So I’m going to copy and paste this anon’s words because all their observations are correct.

"As someone with Autisim, I heavily identify with how he was raised (the gifted child who is too observant vs the prophesied child who was raised to be a weapon first) and the way other react around him (treating everything he says and does with disdain)

I find the way he clings so strongly to the idea of strong and weak even after Geto and Toji yet still having a sense of justice/ noticing the unfairness of it all, his sensitivity issues, his ability to notice emotional cues yet not having the means to respond in an allistic way, his tendency to take his jokes and teasing too far/ act too close to people, and the general othering of him just screams autism to me. Like can see a lot of those traits which is usually tamped down by society being exasperated because, what are you going to do, he is the strongest, you can't just tell him off in a serious way, not when, in your society, the strong rule.

I see it especially with his students, where he's taken in all the misfits and is so casual with them in day to day life. Even him throwing them in the proverbial deepend with missions is probably how he was taught by his clan before entering jujitsu tech."

And directly from Gege via the special Gojo Booklet. 

"Q25: born and raised as a high-born, he is regaled by both himself and others are the strongest, and he seems to have want of very little, but what would you consider Gojo's weakness?

A25: His personality.

Q26: what would you consider Gojo Satoru's most intrinsic strength, when you put aside his innate abilities, influence, and physical prowess? 

A26: His personality."

Thank you Gege for stating it so bluntly. The part of Gojo’s personality that is both strength and weakness. Something that makes him a great sorcerer and socially isolated. That’s the autism.

Now that we (that anon) has established that Gojo Satoru is definitely autistic, let’s go over how this has affected his interpersonal relationships.

Improper Socialization

The Gojo Booklet has forever ruined me. Deep in my heart, I knew this was going on, but to have everything confirmed so bluntly is something else. To summarize:

Gojo was born and raised in Kyoto by an extremely closed-off traditionalist family. His Clan treated him as an investment rather than a person, focusing on his education as a sorcerer and neglecting him emotionally to create the perfect living weapon. It’s implied he was educated privately and did not attend a school with other people until high school. It’s also implied that the Clan kept Gojo under strict watch while his powers developed because of the assassination attempts. Regardless, the isolation, training, and exploitation he endured was severe enough for him to break out and run away multiple times. His attendance at Jujustu Tech in Tokyo was his first time being allowed to interact with others on his own terms rather than his Clan’s.

This means that until Gojo was 15, he likely never had friends. His interactions with other humans amounted to deification, a type of objectification where he was expected to be a tool to further other people’s comfort. Essentially, up until he met Geto, he only knew how to exist as a living weapon. 

I don’t think I need to explain why this would negatively impact socialization. Anyone raised by extremely strict/abusive parents or a cult will tell you how difficult it is to try and interact with normal society after having social skills deliberately stunted for most of your life. This lack of socialization is only compounded by autism. Not only is a sheltered autistic person inclined to be socially unaware, they have no frame of reference to what is socially acceptable.

I’ll use myself as an example. The only reason I’m not completely unpalatable in conversation is because public school allowed me to observe what normal human interactions and mannerisms look like. Otherwise, I’d be like Mahito—learning about the world through the limited media I was allowed to consume. (And even then I still took it at face-value for a pretty long time.)

Gojo is sort of in the same situation as Mahito. His Clan reportedly spoiled him rotten, so he was probably allowed to have all the toys, TV, movies, books, and games he wanted between obligations. This means that it is very likely his ideas of the world at large come from media. And boy does it seem to have affected the way he is.

Trying to Connect with Others

Nanami directly compares Gojo to Mahito. Megumi straight up thinks Gojo and Yuji are the same kind of person as stated in CFYOW, JJK Summer of Ashes, Autumn of Dust Chapter 1: Kiyujitsu Kaisen.

So like Yuji and Mahito, Gojo will use media he’s familiar with to make sense of the world around him and hold conversations with others. (In the anime they have Gojo do the tornado kick which straight up appears to be him doing an in-verse reference to Code Geass's Suzaku Spin Kick aka the Spinzaku Kick. Please do not ask me how I recognized this.)

And would you look at that. Most people do Not know how to handle this. Not even Geto who is more visibly confused by his Digimon metaphor in the anime.

I can’t really blame them for their reactions either. Gojo is such a special combination of unfortunate circumstances and experiences that you might as well be listening to someone speak an unknown language. 

This goes both ways too. Gojo himself has a very hard time understanding others and tends to take the words of others Very Literally. (Just like Yuji!) This leads to him experiencing the Double Empathy Gap the most when compared to other autistic characters.

The Geto stuff is the most tragic to me. Gojo checked in on him and Geto lied about his feelings. To Gojo, Geto is his best friend. Why would he lie to him? Geto says he’s ok so Gojo thinks he’s ok. (That’s not even getting into the higher ups overworking them both and keeping them separate on purpose.) His upbringing and his autism made it impossible for him to read between the lines, so Geto's betrayal very much comes out of nowhere for him. 

The same happens with Shoko okaying the desecration of his corpse, Nanami calling him a pervert and everyone agreeing. Gojo truly believes that the people close to him see him in a very one-dimensional way and there’s nothing he can do about it. After all, he was raised to be a weapon and nothing more.

Funnily enough, Gojo’s Alexithymia is so bad that parts of the fandom have seemingly done the double empathy gap thing to him with respect to his flower metaphor.

“There was always a gulf between me and other people, even if they adored me. You can admire a flower and help it bloom…but you can’t ask it to understand you.”

To me, all Gojo is doing here is explaining his feelings as best he can. Floral language is a big thing in Buddhism which is probably why he makes the comparison. However…I’ve seen interpretations of this that conclude Gojo believes himself so far above others that they might as well be non-sentient plants. To them, this metaphor speaks to his arrogance rather than a clumsy/poetic attempt to communicate his feelings.

I’ll use myself as an example to explain why I think it’s just the autism in action. I often like animals way more than I do other people. Snakes, birds, lizards, spiders, and scorpions are amongst my favorites. Sometimes I compare people to these animals.

What I mean: I think highly of you! You share traits with my favorite animals and that makes me happy.

What others can hear: I think you’re stupid (lizard/bird brained), untrustworthy (a snake), and lesser than me (a bug/arachnid).

Now I could be projecting because I see my autistic traits in Gojo, but I do find it fascinating that how you view Gojo’s flower metaphor is highly dependent on how you feel about him.

Regardless, it does a great job at illustrating how isolated Gojo feels from others. Sometimes my autism makes me feel like I’m a completely different species because I can’t interact with people normally. And in Gojo's case, he can't even refer to himself as a human. The disconnect from others and his dehumanization is so strong he feels he can no longer identify as human.

No one’s autism is exactly the same, so this rift can even exist between autistic people. This is how you can get Yuji and Gojo bonding over their shared autistic traits but not fully understanding each other and feeling isolated for it.

But it’s still really sweet that they connect with movies so well that Gojo’s filmbroness rubs off on Yuji.

It’s also a little concerning that Gojo refers to these movies like a catalog for emotions. Like the proper way to experience emotions is through media and not in person.

The training Gojo subjects Yuji to with movies is likely how he was trained as a child. This suggests that for the first 15 years of his life, movies and other media might have been his only frame of reference for everything not Jujutsu Sorcery. And I mean Everything.

Combine this with The ‘Tism and this could possibly explain exactly what is wrong with Gojo Satoru. (You already know where I’m going with this.)

Gojo’s Racism

Here’s a list of movies for sure Gojo has watched. And for no reason in particular I’m going to include if they have a black person (like myself) in them.

Sourced from a Gege Interview.

Léon: The Professional (1994): Yes

The Descent (2005): No

The Host (2013): No

The Emperor's Naked Army Marches On (1987): No

Deep Blue Sea (1999): Yes

Extra movies from the anime. (Aka probably canon.)

Juggernaut (1974): No

Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001): No

That's only 2 movies with black people in them. I went ahead and watched them to confirm my suspicions...

Léon: The Professional (1994)

Not much to say about the black characters here. From what I saw and the IMDb list, they're all men and they're all background characters. Also I couldn’t finish the film because of how creepy it is towards the 11 year old actress. (It's really bad. Like really, really bad. Traumatized the actress, Natalie Portman, kind of bad. Wish I had a content warning!)

Deep Blue Sea (1999)

Gojo wasn't lying, the heroine died spectacularly. However in terms of spoilers, he glossed over the actual twist death. There's also someone who dies by being bit in half by a shark. And the way those legs looked like Gojo's...

There are 2 black characters in this movie. One is a jovial goofball chef who somehow survives to the end. (Miguel calls this trope out specifically in JJK 255.) There are so many points in this movie where he should've died. His name is Preacher and he has a parrot that is a Red-Crowned Amazon by the way. The other is a rich investor played by Samuel L Jackson who does Not fall into the Scary Black Man trope for once. Preacher doesn't either, he's more of a Gentle Giant.

Both of them function in the film as a subversion of the Magical Negro trope. And after watching this movie, I think Gege was inspired to make Miguel Odol fill this role too.

Anyways, the takeaways from this are 1) Black people are underrepresented in media. 2) What is representing black people in popular media isn't all that varied.

This means if media is your only exposure to black people, those representations will be internalized if you're uncritical about it. (You're reading this on Tumblr I assume you believe racism is real.) It's unconscious most of the time. People usually don't actively go, "Wow black people are all like this!" What happens is they run into a black person irl, are reminded of their impressions via visual similarity, and then say or do some out of pocket nonsense. (I have personally experienced this at the hands of Japanese tourists.)

And what does Mr. Gojo Satoru say to Miguel first? He says Miguel looks like he’ll be trouble. Later he says Miguel's strength and build are because of his race and what makes him dangerous even though Gojo knows several Japanese men with similar physiques. 

If he's never met a black man irl before...he must have gotten that idea from somewhere else. He does mention knowing the MMA star turned comedian Bobby Ologun (a big strong and goofy guy) when comparing him to Miguel.

Bobby Ologun is Nigerian. Miguel is Kenyan. Do you know how pissed East Africans get when lumped into the same category as West Africans and vice versa? (For the less informed please see Western Europe’s hatred of Slavs and other Eastern Europeans.)

But as far as Gojo knows from his media, black men are big, strong, and funny. The media he consumes also doesn’t bother to distinguish the different cultures of Africans. Dark Skin=Black and that’s it. And his dismissal of Miguel's distress over the loss of his rope only highlights that apathy towards individual cultures.

All this has terrible consequences for Miguel in the form of Benevolent Racism. This is where a prejudice that can be perceived as positive has negative outcomes for the target. Aka Gojo commits a racially motivated beatdown because of his ignorance that was fueled by the media he consumed growing up. (Miguel's Cursed Technique reminding Gojo of Toji not withstanding.)

Now I’m not saying autism makes you racist. It’s that Gojo’s isolation from the outside world, being raised by emotionally distant conservatives, and consuming media uncritically with his unique brand of autism creates the disaster that are the words coming out of his mouth.

Gojo being this kind of racist. Where he idolizes a type of strength in black people he learned from stereotypes in his movies, is great actually. I really like that Miguel calls it out and is sick of it. He even sarcastically tries to throw back the stereotypes about Japanese people to make his point too.

And guess who else only knows of black people through movies? Sukuna. He’s an art freak, there’s no way he didn’t watch some of those films Yuji was watching. And Miguel can smell it a mile away. Sukuna gives him that look and Miguel is already done with it. Honestly the way Miguel enforces his boundaries is great. He knows his limits both with risking his life and tolerating racism.

Anyways, Gojo Satoru has been running on 3 hours of sleep, sugar, and Reverse Cursed Energy like a madman for years. I don’t think he’s ever sat down and gone, “Huh? Why do I think the way I do? Why do I believe this?” Miguel is probably the first person to ever tell him, that’s racist my dude. (This is an explanation not an excuse btw.)

And that’s kind of the problem. Gojo is willing to learn and do better, but he hasn’t had the time do it on his own. Some outside force has to tell him bluntly, “Yo this isn’t socially acceptable.” (Think of how Geto influenced his morals and manners by telling Gojo exactly what he should do.)

This leads me to believe his mind is a hodgepodge of things he’s uncritically absorbed as a child and that has influenced his questionable beliefs/actions as an adult in ways he’s unable to recognize.

Gojo’s Other Problems

Outside of racism, Gojo’s most unpleasant traits include mild sexism and child endangerment. The sexism comes from how he speaks to Utahime and how treats Shoko compared to Geto. Though he otherwise does not outwardly discriminate against them, it is sus that he sees Rika, a girl transformed into a cursed spirit, and goes "Dang, women are scary." (The child endangerment is self-evident.)

For some reason, Gojo truly believes for some reason that the woman (Shoko) in his life isn’t emotionally capable of being on the same level with him as a man (Geto). This could just be a strength-based thing since Geto told him that’s why they can’t be together anymore. It’s really hard to tell. But if it really is a sexism thing, media in general being misogynistic could explain it. (On top of being raised by a traditionalist family in a society that is very sexist.)

Well-rounded female characters whose complex emotions and inner lives are explored in depth can be very hard to come by, especially in popular media. (If you want media that primarily focuses on female characters GO READ UMINEKO NOW.) A lot of the movies and manga Gojo consumes treat women as love interests first and people second. And since you’re reading this on Tumblr, you’ve probably seen posts that complain about this and how this feeds into irl interactions.

This idea comes into play with Utahime in a different way. Gojo doesn’t understand that Utahime actually hates him. This is a bit odd given that he usually takes people’s hostility towards him to heart. But a place where he could get the idea that her anger is secretly affection is…the tsundere archetype in the mangas he’s so fond of. (Gojo reads a lot of Shonen Jump, it’s no wonder he has negative rizz with women after they get past his good looks.)

Yuji does it, Todo does it, Mahito does it—they use the media they’ve consumed as a baseline for sorcery. They’re the best at what they do for it. There’s no way Gojo isn’t doing the exact same thing, especially when he’s teaching his students. He tries to fit the quirky mentor archetype who uses tough love to guide his students. (His blindfold might be an actual in-verse Kakashi Naruto reference.) And he falls into faulty logic where everything will work out if he leaves it all to his students which fulfills most Shonen story beats.

The stunt with Megumi that kickstarted this series is a 2-for-1 special. Gojo eating sweets is needed to maintain his technique. Him eating them is acting as a responsible adult. However, getting them several hundred kilometers away from his student who is in a dangerous situation is irresponsible. It may speak to how much he trusts Megumi to handle things on his own, but as an adult in charge of a child? This is very poor judgement on Gojo's end.

I also understand that Gojo's upbringing and Japan's culture (aka it's generally safe for a child to be outside alone) is probably why he's so comfortable leaving a roughed up looking child by herself. But like...he should've called someone for Hana. Maybe he did later? (Another case of is this Gege underdeveloping Hana/Tsumiki or is Gojo truly that careless towards little girls...)

Shonen is pretty notorious for uncritically putting children in situations. It probably doesn’t help that Gojo’s own family was violating multiple Japanese labor laws when putting him to work as a kid. I’m not joking about that either.

Per The Constitution of Japan (May 3, 1947) Chapter III Article 27 Paragraph 3: 

“Children shall not be exploited.”

What constitutes child labor exploitation are outlined in Japan’s Labor Standards Act (LSA) or Act No. 49 of April 7, 1947.

Per LSA Chapter IV Article 56 Paragraph 2:

“…an employer may employ a child of at least 13 years of age in an occupation…which involves light labor that is not injurious to the child's health and welfare…”

Additional protections for workers are outlined in Japan’s equivalent of OSHA, aka the Industrial Safety and Health Act (ISHA) or Act No. 57 of June 8, 1972. 

Per ISHA Chapter VII-2 Article 71-2:

“An employer must endeavor to create a comfortable work environment in order to improve the level of safety and health in the workplace by continuously and systematically taking measures as follows:

measures to manage the maintenance of a comfortable work environment;

measures to improve work methods for work in which workers engage;

providing and streamlining facilities and equipment for workers to recover from fatigue suffered in the course of their work;

the necessary measures to create a comfortable work environment, beyond as set forth in the preceding three items.”

I think it’s safe to say that Gojo not including any of his Clan members in his afterlife scene and being so overworked that he doesn't have hobbies or think much outside of sorcery is proof of this exploitation. Gojo’s self-reported best years of his life were high school and those were still exploitative as hell. The man is a walking and talking human rights violation.

The only time we see child Gojo is from the perspective of assassins staking him out. Gojo himself never willingly recalls his childhood, only his teenage years. He looks so serious and miserable compared to his older self too. (It kind of reminds me of how I was a very quiet, obedient child that blossomed into the yappy evil creature I am now thanks to obtaining legal rights and freedom as an adult.)

This exploitation of children at the hands of adults in Jujutsu Society is normalized in and outside of fiction in their universe. Gojo can tell something is wrong with how he was treated and doesn’t want his students to hurt for it. But he can’t recognize that child labor in or itself is bad, so his solution is to make them strong enough to stand up for themselves. (Aka trying to make a labor union without knowing what a union is. Still breaking child labor laws though.)

Might makes right is a Shonen staple (please see Dragon Ball Z or Baki the Grappler). And though taking that idea to heart seems to be the most of Gojo’s problems as a teacher, there’s an additional issue this genre has—neglecting emotional development and care for the most part.

Characters in Shonen or action movies will go through extremely traumatic events and have little to no reaction to them. (PTSD who? Unless you're goated like Steven Universe Future or Vinland Saga.) It can give people a false sense of invincibility. They also rarely ever discuss the steps that can be taken to handle these emotions. You’ll see characters have panic attacks but rarely how to coax someone out of it. Heartbreak is rampant, but the solutions are to never let go and let it consume you, never how to move on or mourn. (If outright ignoring it like nothing happened isn’t what occurs.)

You can see these kinds of ideas with Geto. A second love is not possible for Gojo. He was his one and only and will always be his one and only. That’s the type of romanticism that has always been in his media.

If Gojo has relied on media to teach him how to feel out his emotions, effectively and healthily coping with grief and breakups is pretty hard to find. Most of the time when media handles those topics directly, it does so in a way that promotes reflecting on your own experiences instead of instructing you how to deal with it. Something Gojo didn’t really have time for. 

In the light novels Gojo greatly laments his own inability to deal with grief. He wants his students to learn how to do that effectively and even employs outside help with this.

The result of all this is a really overworked weird guy that feels like there’s no way to process his emotions. He puts on a mask when he talks to others and still winds up alienating himself. He’s tolerated for his labor and dehumanized for what makes him good at it. This is all extremely autistic. 

Exploiting Autistic Labor

I want to emphasize again, not all autistic people have these traits. The best sorcerers just happen to all have these traits in common.

Hyperfixating on the task at hand without rest.

Not having a typical reaction to dangerous situations.

Taking words at face-value.

Disconnect from emotions and other people.

Unique perspective for problem solving. 

These are all things that make for the ideal worker. Autistic people are often compared to machines for their behaviors and what is better for the capitalist than a person that behaves like a machine? 

But autistic people are not machines. They’re humans with flaws subject to burnout, emotional dysregulation, meltdowns, off-putting behavior, and isolation.

Jujutsu Society has no incentive to help with these things, especially the emotional dysregulation or isolation. In fact, it encourages this outcome because isolated people are easier to manipulate and exploit. But this also results in the friction these characters have in their relationships.

It’s a situation where they try to have their cake and eat it too. Everyone loves when Gojo is a Jujutsu Pervert in battle. They make him do everything for it. But the second he starts being weird outside of work, they want nothing to do with him. Or they’ll even insult him for the very traits they’re more than happy to use him for. (It’s exactly like Todo. Everyone depends on his battle intuition and reliability. And that all stems directly from his special interest Takada that no one wants to hear about.)

This creates a very uncomfortable dynamic where Gojo is seemingly bears the burden for everyone and everything while the people he’s servicing refuse to acknowledge it. He’s like some kind of public emotional punching bag or hatesink for other characters because they think he can take it as The Strongest. I don’t know if this is because of the autism, but it is scarily similar to how myself and my other autistic friends get treated by others irl. I think this is why I had such a visceral reaction to JJK 269. I too have experienced allistic people exploiting my labor and then acting like I’ve never done anything for them.

And speaking of JJK 269…Kusakabe has always been that kind of dickhole. He’s been in favor of Yuji’s execution since the start. But that’s not what makes him so aggravating. It’s that he’s too cowardly to do it himself. He once again, pushes the burden onto Gojo. He’s not going to be the child killer even though he wants this child dead, that’s Gojo’s job. Gojo is the tool he and everyone else uses to do the things they don’t like. 

This includes the teaching Kusakabe thinks Gojo is bad at. Per that one flashback, Gojo had to instruct Yuta more because Kusakabe didn't do an adequate job. Gojo had to send Yuta to Kenya to be trained by Miguel because neither of them were doing enough for Yuta. Gojo recognized his own limits and enlisted help. Kusakabe projected his own shortcomings onto Gojo and waited for everyone else to find a solution for him.

I also want to remind everyone that Kusakabe is wrong about Yuji needing to be executed. Yuji and Sukuna were Kenjaku’s backup plan. Kenjaku would’ve sealed Gojo and started the Merger anyways. In fact, Gojo, Yuji, and Sukuna are the only reason Kenjaku didn’t win. Plus the remaining Sukuna fingers were getting stronger All By Themselves. This means that Kusakabe would just be kicking the can down the road and making it a problem for the younger generation. Gojo was the only adult with enough foresight to do something that would solve the problem.

We’ve also got Ui Ui calling himself the MVP of the Sukuna fight while failing to acknowledge the only reason he could warp in and out without dying was Gojo exhausting Sukuna in the first place. Gojo’s contributions seemingly don’t count because he’s not a person. He’s a tool they used. So all his labor counts as theirs instead.

And because he’s dead, Yuta really is the new Gojo. Please see how Yuta was treated before and after Gojo’s death side by side. 

(I can’t tell if this is character assassination or the point. But the only person here allowed to criticize Yuta is Todo as far as I’m concerned.) 

Yuta is their new Strongest hatesink who happens to be autistic as hell. And yes, Yuta’s autism is second to Gojo Satoru’s. 

(Yuta's leans much more into socially unaware straightforwardness and taking things literally. He doesn't have a special interest or infodumps at people and I think that's neat.)

Everyone grills into Yuta so hard over his plans for the Sukuna battle that he experiences the quintessential autistic experience as described by Twitter User PenGwenWithLC:

"The autistic trait that bites me in the ass most frequently is my impenetrable belief that if I show people the truth they will believe me."

Mind you, Yuta is the main reason they won after Gojo died. This boy had Back Up Plans A through Z and they worked. The only person who had valid input on his planning was…Gojo (and possibly Todo). The finger resonance with Nobara was Gojo’s idea (JJK 267 Pgs 4-5...Also let's talk about how if Gojo wasn't a hopeless romantic and scheduled this fight a day or even an hour later, he might have lived based on Nobara's wake up time.). Once again, these are all autistic characters using their unique ways of thinking to solve problems others are too cowardly to address.

And then these same people turn around and disparage them without acknowledging their efforts or emotions. Sure you can call it lashing out because they secretly care about them. (Aka tsundere behavior.) But both Yuta and Gojo take other people’s words at face value. They don’t understand that this is a very fudged up display of affection and internalize it. Gojo died convinced everyone except maybe 3 people hated him and even in death he couldn’t escape it. 

This is also why Gojo leaving Yuta in Miguel’s care was a good thing. Miguel seems to be the sole person in this series who knows how to avoid labor exploitation. Nanami may see work as nonsense and have an overtime mechanic, but Miguel simply does not work overtime. He sets his boundaries and sticks to them.

It’s very ironic that Yuta took flack for respecting the boundaries of a black man that refused to be exploited by the very people that would treat him poorly.

How to Not Exploit Autistic Labor

CW: Discussion of Suicide

The last time I examined the tragedy of Gojo Satoru I wanted him to live and be loved. But I’m not sure if I want that now. It doesn’t really seem like the systemic issues that caused his exploitation have been addressed, and the people he’s helped refuse to acknowledge they are standing on the shoulders of giants. Him becoming suicidal over this exploitation and choosing death because he saw no end to this is a particularly harsh reflection of what happens in reality.

Yuji notices that Gojo is acting out of character during his final talk with him. The arrogant, self-aggrandizing chipper he's used to has been replaced with this timid optimism. Gojo tells Yuji and everyone else to forget about him because he's confident they'll be living longer than him. Before this, previous chapters have shown that Gojo went around apologizing to others and preparing letters in the advent of his death. These are all warning signs associated with an imminent suicide attempt.

When Gojo tells Yuji this is confidence he's never had before, it seems like he means both his plans to go through with dying and that everyone really will be fine and better off without him.

Gojo also makes sure Yuji doesn't catch on to this. (Probably why he didn't do the soul swap too.) Even with his suicide, he's doing his best to make sure it doesn't negatively impact anyone. His final letters to Megumi and Nobara being so unserious is another attempt to make sure their hearts don't break. ...And nobody he devoted himself to in life or death noticed.

This rather bleak ending for Gojo does have a purpose I think. It’s an example of how hypercapitalist work culture doesn’t value your life. You can bend over backwards and put your all into work, but in the end, you’re just another cog to be used. Gojo’s dehumanization was inevitable under this system. This man was born to be used as a tool and discarded once he served his purpose. And because he’s not a person, people get really mad when he does anything outside of what benefits them directly. Since to them, it’s like a machine malfunctioning.

It’s unlikely these people will ever mourn him properly, let alone even acknowledge his efforts (outside of Yuji and Yuta that is). His closest “friends” in death thought of him as a self-serving pervert you know. (Once again, not sure if that’s character assassination or showcasing what Jujutsu Society does to people, but wow does it suck to see.)

But you know who did acknowledge Gojo as a human who did his damned best and is worth remembering? Sukuna.

Sukuna stopped the whole battle to lavish praise on Gojo and mourn him. He’s done that for everyone who has put up a decent fight against him. The other sorcerers? They do no such thing, even after the battle.

And you know who takes the time to cherish and mourn his comrades no matter what? Jogo.

I excluded Mahito from the autistic labor exploitation discussion for good reason. The natural disaster curses treat Mahito better than most humans have ever treated Gojo. Jogo doesn’t exploit Mahito’s autism, he embraces it. And despite their weird behaviors and beliefs stressing him out most of the time, Jogo does nothing to stop Mahito from being themself. He expresses his distaste, sure, but Jojo otherwise acknowledges those traits are what makes Mahito good for their cause. Mahito is his equal, not a tool.

Jogo doesn’t tell Mahito what to do or feel. He rolls with their shenanigans while wearing his heart on his sleeve. He takes time to mourn his comrades no matter how dire the situation. He acts with their interests in mind at all times—even in death his first concerns are his comrades. 

Even though Mahito is alive, Jogo worries for them while still having faith in their abilities. He looks forward to seeing Mahito again via reincarnation. I cannot say the same of Gojo’s allies. 

I’m not really sure how to end this discussion since I’m continuing it in another part. But if there’s anything you take away form this incomplete analysis, please let it be this one thing:

Jogo is best girl.

[lord-squiggletits]

No offense but I feel like among IDW1 Megatron fans you can lowkey tell who's read multiple series of the comics (namely, phase 1 and early phase 2) and who's only read MTMTE by the way they talk about, headcanon, or write Megatron. And like it does genuinely make a huge difference because I feel like MTMTE Megatron in general is a different flavor of Megatron from the rest of the series..... not OOC, that's the wrong word, but like....... more as if JRO had a very specific vision of him and janked the reins of the series to drive Megatron down a specific interpretation of his character, which is still in-character but is very different from the way he was characterized early in the series.

But in terms of Megatron fans, you can really tell the difference between MTMTE-only readers and other-parts-of-IDW readers.

[bunnihearted]

‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚

[homochihuahua]

The Hannibal!jaydick au is killing me

Dick would try to manipulate Jason through sex and He'd start sucking him off and lose all his resolves to do anything else. Dick' sex-addled mind wouldn't let him think of anything other than the pleasure he is feeling, a pleasure he has been denied for so long, either by circumstances or by his own self. Jason feels crazy in his mouth, Dick sucks him like his life depends on it, and in return Jason is slowly losing his very measured control He is finally having Dick wanting him in someway. Jason forces Dick of himself so as not to spend in Dick's throat, which only serves to agitate Dick more. Dick straddles Jason, willing to ride him, He looks down at Jason's face, looks into his eyes and is met with pure devotion in those steely teal eyes and what more? Love. Love? Love!? After everything! Dick slaps him, losing control for a moment, and Jason raturn to look at his heaving form, his eyes almost worshipful. "You can beat me while I am inside you", "I don't mind" says Jason "Yous sick fuck" "After everything, after all the shit you made go through, after all the manipulation and lies. You till have it in you to look into my eyes and talk bullshit" roars Dick. "Didn't you satisfies your curiosity enough already. Huh? When are you going to kill me next" " I cannot kill you, you know that, and before you ask why, there is simply no other alike you. No one to compare to you". Dick still heaving speaks again, but this time slowly and in control now "But you thought of eating me" "you've thought of getting a taste of me" Jason narrows his eyes, swallowing "It is hard not to". " Well now is your chance, come and get a taste. Here to the full meal course, Doctor Todd". Jason's eye light with fire in them. That was the signal he was waiting for and he dives in. At some point Dick starts crying. His emotions finally getting the best of him "I hate it" Jason halts "I hate how after all that you took from me" "That I still love you"

[fushiguho]

Sweet boyfriend ! Choso with a filthy mouth ⭐️

“Yes, god… spread your fucking legs just like thaaat,” a groan from the pit of his sternum, large hands finding purchase on the thick of your hips, “let me see that pretty pussy, baby, fuuucck.”

And you do, achy, trembling thighs falling so obscenely wide for your sweet, sweet boyfriend who mercilessly abuses your endlessly weeping cunt. Not a single, coherent thought remains in your poor little mind, nothing but the sound of him, the feeling of him.

You’re just mindlessly obeying his obscene requests; lips parting almost instinctively when he leans down to drool onto your tongue; pulling your legs to your chest when he asks to see more of you; even tracing frantic, haphazard circles around your swollen clit when he tells you to. Always been such an obedient girl after all.

It’s been hours. You’re nearly crying — sore, overstimulated, exhausted, but you asked for this. You got on your knees for it, remember? Choso could hardly make it through the door before you were falling to your knees in front of him, begging for cock.

He’s simply obeying your wishes, but his mouth is just so fucking filthy. There is a filter that ceases to exist upon the very moment he sinks inside of you. Sloppy, beckoning walls sucking him in so greedily that he can’t help but to mutter the obscenest of profanities, the nastiest amalgamations of words to ever be uttered in human existence.

“Fuck, c’mereee,” he’s pulling your hips up and you let him, his lithe fingers digging so deliciously into the fat of your ass, “such a gooood slut for that cock… taking me so well, so fucking deeeep, god.” Heavy hands hold you still, your canting hips suspended into the air as he forces you onto his cock again and again and again. “Take it baby, take that fuckin’ cock… allll the way to the back of that slutty, little pussy, godddd.”

See? Just nasty, but you’re no saint — babbling disgusting little coos in response to his vulgarity, begging for him to go deeper, harder. Stupidly gaped mouth wide and occupied with your delirious wails of rapture. More, more, more, you cry, grasping for his hips, his face, the back of his neck. Perfect hips bucking so sluttily in tandem with his bruising thrusts.

A gruff chuckle parts his lips, an ensuing grin crinkling his darkened eyes. “Yeah? Moreee?” Choso is sitting back on his heels, angling his hips upward to fuck against your tensing walls. “Such a greedy girl for it, huh? Bet you want me to breed that cunt too, right? Get you fucking pregnant?” Fuck.

You nod. Duhhh.

[sugoroo]

#YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT LOSERBOYS. . .

ʚɞ summary. jjk men as different types of losers with a girlfriend who's way out of their league! but never fear, they have a few tricks up their sleeves yet. . . ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso + sukuna.

warnings. fem!reader, penetration (p in v), fingering, squirting, oral (f receiving), doggystyle, semi-public sex in geto's, virginity loss + premature ejac in choso's, drug use in sukuna's, 18+ minors dni.

a/n. 500 followers special post <3 digimon!gojo inspired by this fic by @/blkkizzat. go check it out!

SATORU GOJO — THE DIGIMON NERD!

your boyfriend satoru gojo is absolutely, undeniably, irrevocably obsessed with all things digimon.

his entire room is brimming with posters, heinously overpriced collectable toys, you name it. hell, even his bedcovers are digimon themed (and he won't change them no matter how many times you ask, either.)

to make matters worse, it's all he talks about, too. at any given moment he finds manages to find some way to connect anything in his direct line of sight to digimon; and once he starts ranting about it, it's practically impossible to get him to stop.

so, with all of these incriminating facts piling up about just how much of a loser your boyfriend is, you might be left wondering… why exactly are you still with him?

and well, the answer to that is much simpler than you'd expect — satoru gojo is a god in the sheets. and no, that's not an exaggeration.

when you first started dating, you assumed he would be mediocre at best, and that you'd probably have to teach him a few things here and there. because a man so painfully nerdy couldn't possibly know how to satisfy you from the get-go, right?

wrong.

despite previously confiding in you that he was a virgin before you went any further than making out, satoru appeared to know exactly what he was doing once he got you in his bed after a few weeks of dating.

you hadn't been too into it at first, purely due to the fact you were seemingly about to have sex with him for the first time sprawled atop his digimon bedsheets.

i mean, talk about a turn-off, huh?

but you quickly forgot about such insignificant details like that once the two of you started to venture past kissing, satoru's eager hands roaming all over your body with a level of excitement you'd only ever seen on him before when he was gushing about an upcoming digimon game.

and after he'd stripped you of your clothes? all bets were off.

"s-shit. so pretty, baby," satoru groaned as he buried his face between the valley of your breasts, licking and sucking at every patch of supple skin he could reach in the process. "so soft."

"toruuu," you mewled out, running a hand through his messy white locks and lightly scratching his scalp with your recently manicured nails as a form of silent encouragement. "feels good."

satoru visibly preens under your praising words, his face lighting up like a kid on christmas morning as he pops one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling on the perked bud like a newborn.

this gets you to release a moan, the sound so hot and so real, unlike the overdramatic sounds satoru had heard on the various porn videos he'd watched before to practise for this moment.

and the effect it had on him was clear.

within moments, your boyfriend's pretty face was buried between your legs, his tongue just ruthless as it lapped and slurped at your sopping folds. he didn't have a technique, really. he was just hungry. hungry for you (and your sweet cunt.)

"ah! s-slow down, toru— fuck!" you cried helplessly, your thighs clamping shut around his head as he continued to vigorously devour you. he found your clit so inhumanly fast, and his hot mouth was latched on to the puffy little bud like his life depended on it.

"sorry, sweet girl, can't." satoru whined quietly against your flesh, his voice muffled between each desperate lick of his tongue. "tastes too good."

you can't remember the last time a partner ate you out this good. most of your previous flings didn't even like doing it at all — maybe even considered it a chore. but not satoru gojo.

maybe loserboys just do it best after all.

he had you falling apart in record time, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave as your entire body convulsed against the sheets. you vaguely registered satoru talking you through it somewhere nearby, but your vision was too pleasantly hazy to make him out.

"you're so fuckin' sexy when you cum. god, i need to be inside you." satoru groaned wantonly, hastily shoving his sweatpants down his hips in one swift movement and revealing his considerably tented boxers, already darkened with a patch of pre-cum.

wait, hold on a minute...

"you have digimon boxers too? seriously, sato— oh."

oh, indeed.

satoru grinned smugly, both rows of his pearly whites on full display as he observed the way your words trailed off when he shucked his boxers and allowed his throbbing, obscenely long cock to slap against his stomach.

"ready, baby?" he chuckled pridefully, pumping his leaking dick with his fist a few times just to see the way your widened eyes followed the movement. "for your next orgasm, i wanna make you squirt."

SUGURU GETO — THE SCHOOL LIBRARIAN!

no one knew quite how it had happened — how you, the popular captain of the cheerleading team, ended up dating suguru geto, the quiet school librarian who spent most of his time meticulously organizing bookshelves.

but however it may have come to pass, being with suguru has changed your life for the better (in multiple ways). he's sweet, considerate, and despite how much he enjoys ranting about vintage russian literature, still makes an effort to be interested in your hobbies too.

oh, and also, he's the best lay you've ever had.

you wouldn't know it by looking at him; the reserved boy who always wears knitted sweaters and a pair of dark-framed glasses, but saying suguru geto knows a thing or two about how to pleasure another person would be a severe understatement.

and that's why he currently has you splayed across one of the desks at the very back of the library, legs spread wide and cheerleading skirt bunched up above your waist while he fingers you like a damn expert.

"you like that, baby?" suguru coos as he brushes some sweaty hair behind your ear with his free hand, the other still occupied with being knuckles-deep inside your dripping cunt.

"y-yeahh, sugu." you keen in response, hips weakly bucking up into his hand in search of more friction. you always got like this after a long cheerleading practise, body tightly wound up and in need of release which your boyfriend was more than happy to supply.

suguru smiles at this, his lips pulling up in a way that makes him look like the cat who got the canary as he continues to thrust his fingers up into your gummy walls, effortlessly locating that sweet, spongy spot deep inside of you.

"a-ah! right there. right theree." you cry softly, gripping onto the edges of the wooden desk for dear life as he pleasures you like it's his only purpose in life, your entire body jostling with the sheer force of each of his movements.

he chuckles deeply at your wantonness, the way his thumb gently caresses your flushed cheek creating an ironic contrast to the way his fingers pick up in pace, curling in a way he knows will drive you crazy. "mhm. right here, pretty?"

a strangled squeal escapes your lips as the tips of his digits rub against your sensitive g spot, your hips now moving more desperately against his hand as if you're not even in control of them anymore. "yes, yes, yes!"

it's not long before you're falling apart, spraying the entire desk with your translucent juices while your boyfriend croons sweet praises against the shell of your ear and tenderly strokes through the back of your hair.

"now. . . are you going to be good girl and keep quiet for me?" suguru purrs in that deep, velvety tone of his as he unbuckles his belt while admiring your fucked-out expression. "can't have anyone else hearing your pretty moans while i'm pounding you into the bookshelf, hmm?"

it never fails to surprise you how quickly he can switch up, from kind and encouraging to firm and demanding in a matter of moments. however, it doesn't bother you in the slightest — in fact, you can't help but adore how much it keeps you on your toes.

however, it goes without saying that you don't keep very quiet at all once suguru is mercilessly shoving his thick cock into your quivering pussy from behind, squashing your face against the spines of the books in front of you with each rough thrust.

shaking his head fondly, suguru ends up having to clamp a hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your obscenely loud sounds just in case any other students happen to stumble into the library.

maybe the old saying was right after all; it's always the quietest boys who make you scream the loudest.

TOJI FUSHIGURO — THE JOBLESS BUM!

technically, toji fushiguro can't even be classified as a loserboy anymore. after all, he's a fully grown man now (but still has nothing to show for it.)

he's more than a decade older than you and yet somehow you're the one in the relationship who's employed; if he wasn't dating you, he probably wouldn't even be able to afford food for himself, as pathetic as that sounds.

not to mention, he definitely didn't think things through when choosing to date you of all people. saying you're out of his league would be a severe understatement — you're young, pretty, resourceful, and you love buying things for yourself that he could never even dream of affording.

it seems like every week you have a new designer bag, dress or pair of shoes. and as much as he enjoys seeing you model them for him, it makes him feel like a piece of shit because he can't offer to foot the bill for you like a good boyfriend should.

so, he has to find other ways to keep you satisfied that don't involve necklaces that cost more money than he's ever laid eyes on in his entire life.

which is how we arrive at the one thing toji fushiguro is unarguably good at: fucking.

not making love, but fucking. (not to say that he doesn't love you, because of course he does! he just also loves to fuck you like he hates you.)

so that's how you find yourself face down ass up on his bed once again, your brand new fancy dress carelessly shoved up to give your boyfriend easier access to your pretty pussy.

he always eats you out like it's the last time he'll ever get to, and maybe for him, it feels like it is. because deep down, he's convinced soon enough you'll realize what a damn loser he is and ditch him for someone with more going for them.

"mmf... so good, toji." you sigh hazily, eyes half-lidded as you succumb to the pleasure he's giving you. toji thinks you always moan so sweetly for him; it'll be a shame if anyone else ever gets to hear it — but he'd be naïve to believe that you'll stick with him forever when you could do infinitely better.

once you reach your inevitable release, you slowly blink at him over your shoulder and ask to return the favour like you always do. but he simply waves you off, grumbling his usual excuse that "you do enough work as it is" and distracting you by rubbing his pudgy cockhead along your folds.

you keen, but reach behind you to gently halt his movements, whispering out a quiet but sincere "i love you. you know that, right?" fuck. how do you always manage to read him so well? it's like you knew exactly what was going through his head and what he needed to hear, too.

toji grunts out some non-committal answer, not willing to let on just how much hearing those words from you affects him. he can tell you mean it, which works to ease his doubts somewhat — but they still linger in the back of his mind.

shaking the thoughts off, he starts to ease himself into your sopping entrance inch by inch, focusing on the heavenly feel of your warm, tight little cunt around him rather than these pesky feelings.

"well, maybe y'shouldn't," toji mutters gruffly as he pulls himself all the way out, only to thrust harshly back in and earn a yelp from your lips in response. "you deserve a lot better than me, dollface."

"well— ah! — i don't want anyone other than you, toji," you huff out, digging your fingers into the softness of the pillow to keep yourself grounded as he starts to pound into you. "and i don't care if you don't have a job. i still love you anyway."

he releases a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl at your words, his speed quickly becoming as ruthless as usual. it's not his fault, really; he just can't hold himself back once he gets inside you. "shit— baby, you can't just say stuff like that." he rasps out.

"why not? it's true." you counter breathlessly.

and it is. because no matter how much of a loser your boyfriend may be, you love him to pieces. oh, and not to mention, you doubt you could find anyone else who fucks you even half as good as he does.

this point is only proved when you both reach your climaxes in record time, collapsing together in a sweaty and sated heap atop the sheets. and with toji's goopy cum slowly drooling out of your abused cunt and his burly arms wrapping around your waist, you think there's nowhere else you'd rather be than in the warm embrace of your loser.

CHOSO KAMO — THE SCIENCE TUTOR!

you first met choso kamo when he was hired by your rich parents to become your science tutor. it was the class you struggled with the most, the one that was ruining your set of perfect grades. and they just couldn't have that!

unfortunately, it didn't quite go the way they expected.

because when you opened the door to be greeted by the sight of the pretty boy standing before you — all fiddly hands, messy black pigtails and dark eyes staring down at his chunky boots, you knew you just had to have him.

and have him you did.

the two of you have been dating for a few weeks now, but to your surprise, choso hasn't tried to initiate anything with you past kissing. i mean, you knew he was a little shy, but you figured he'd be eager to get into your pants given the way he looks at you when he thinks you aren't paying attention.

when you finally decide to ask him about it, his cheeks flush an adorable shade of pink, and he blinks owlishly at you for a good few moments before he manages to gather the courage to stammer out a reply. "i-i haven't... i've never—"

"—oh. i get it. are you a virgin, cho?"

choso nods almost shamefully, nervously tugging at the sleeves of his shirt as he avoids making direct eye contact with you. the reason he hasn't tried going all the way with you isn't for the lack of desire to, but rather because he fears he won't be good enough for you.

i mean, you're you. so... pretty, perfect and undoubtedly an expert at this sort of thing. whereas choso's never even touched another person before. what if you're put off by his inexperience? or worse, what if you break up with him because of it?

"hey. calm down, baby," you coo softly, reaching out to take both of his clammy hands in yours and giving them a comforting squeeze. "i don't care if you've never had sex before."

choso's eyes widen comically at this, his head snapping back up to check your expression for any sign of deception. but when he doesn't find any, his shoulders sag slightly in relief and he releases a breath he didn't realize he had been holding since this conversation began. "o-oh, okay. that's good."

you smile warmly, running the tips of your fingers over his sweaty palms and admiring the way goosebumps visibly start rising just below the sleeves of his shirt as a result. "if you don't wanna go that far yet, we don't have—"

"no!" choso practically yelps, the blush spreading down his pale neck as he realizes just how desperate he must sound. god, he's such a loser. he has no idea why you even like him, but he isn't about to start complaining anytime soon. "i-i wanna go that far today. with you."

your oversensitive boyfriend ends up cumming twice from just your hand; once from a single press of your thumb against his leaking tip, the other from just a few pumps of your fist. he apologizes profusely each time even though you repeatedly assure him that it was supposed to happen.

it takes you a while to fully sink down onto his lap, the size of his cock just monstrous compared to the rest of his fairly scrawny body. you guess that old saying about quiet boys having the biggest dicks does has some truth to it after all.

choso lets out a strangled mewl once your hips become flush with his, and it isn't long before he's rutting up into you like an animal in heat, as if he isn't even in control of his own body's movements anymore.

the first time he orgasms, he fills your little pussy to the brim with so much of his milky cum that a lot of it leaks out and coats his girthy base in a lewd, glossy ring. but the second, third and fourth times he orgasms? he's shooting blanks.

he's so overstimulated by now that his cock is aching almost painfully, but he can't stop yet — because he still hasn't managed to make you reach even a single climax of your own because he keeps cumming after just a few thrusts into your snug cunt.

eventually, with you guiding him how to hold your hips and bounce your pliant body on his lap just right, you end up falling apart on top of him. choso finds the mere sight so beautiful that it somehow manages to make his needy cock harden inside of you all over again.

and when he whimpers out "can you do that for me again, pretty girl? please?" you realize that maybe dating a loserboy was the best possible choice you could've made.

RYOMEN SUKUNA — THE DEADBEAT STONER!

ryomen sukuna is the biggest loser you've ever met. (and he's also your boyfriend.)

it happened quite unconventionally — when you met him, he was a drug dealer, and your relationship began with you occasionally buying weed from him. but over time, it turned into 'a plug and his favourite customer who frequently hookup together at his shitty apartment.'

and while he may have a pretty pathetic lifestyle, there's no denying how attractive this man is, with his messy pink hair and strangely alluring dark tattoos. oh, and his dick game? legendary.

you could never quite stop yourself from falling back into his bed over and over again, until the walls of your pussy probably remembered the outline of every curve and vein of his cock from the amount of times it had been in there.

eventually, the two of you decided to make it official. sukuna actually ended up quitting his job as a plug so he could spend more time with you, though that doesn't mean he quit the drugs, of course.

he's smoking a joint right now as he watches you grind against his lap, his crimson gaze half-lidded as the pleasant high washes over him. his burly arms are resting leisurely behind his head, visibly not giving a damn about helping you out.

"ryooo," you huff with a pout pushing at your lower lip, your weak hips unable to build up enough friction to make yourself feel pleasurable on your own. you've lost track of what round this is by now, but your body is definitely too exhausted to properly bounce on his cock right now. "help me. please?"

sukuna huffs deeply as if this is the most inconvenienced he's been all day, but nevertheless wraps a lazy hand around the side of your hip to guide you up and down his length. "tch. damn girl, can't even ride me right. should see if one of my old customers can do better."

"you dick!" you gasp dramatically, clutching a hand over your heart in a display of theatrical betrayal. you move to pull yourself off of his lap, but his strong hand effortlessly keeps you anchored in place.

"calm down, baby," sukuna grumbles with a roll of his eyes, but his upper lip twitches slightly in subtle amusement that you know him too well to miss. "y'know i'm just kidding. none of 'em could take me better than you do."

at this, you smile a little, not resisting when he starts to guide your body into a steady rhythm again. sukuna always tends to accidentally say sweet things to you when he's high and then proceeds to deny them the next morning — tonight is clearly no exception.

"yeah, yeahhh," he groans as you start to move on your own at the pace he set, throwing his head back in bliss from both the drugs and the feel of your heavenly cunt dragging up and down against his cock. "jus' like that, pretty."

it's not long before you're both falling apart for the umpteenth time tonight, and sukuna puts out the shrivelled up blunt on the bedside table before carelessly tossing the rolled paper over his shoulder and flipping your spent body around so you're splayed beneath him.

"weed has a shitty aftertaste," he mutters under his breath, easily spreading your still-trembling legs and making room for himself between them as he looks up at you with a wicked grin. "needa wash my mouth out with somethin' sweet."

ryomen sukuna may be a complete loser, but you'll be damned if dating him doesn't have its perks.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[stunie]

ok so i hit 30 tags pretty early so i wanted to add extra thoughts under here i am SOOO SORRY OMFG ITS SO MUCH 😭😭 GOD

attempt 1 at reading - thoughts:

i love how you wrote the nervousness and hesitation of both reader and atsumu ): this relationship feels so genuine and realistic, like every thought is so real and complex and it all just plays out soooo vividly in my head. i can literally feel every single thing in MY SOUL. it got me holding my breath, my heart racing, my stomach churning

the kiss . the first kiss where mr suna interrupted . when i tell you i read it like this >//////< EXCEPT MY HAND WAS CLASPED SO TIGHTLY OVER MY MIUTH. oh my god the reaction i had. it really felt like a first kiss all over again, i was genuinely WARM and all blushy

attempt 2 at reading - thoughts:

i loved how u wrote out the tension again .. and your characterization for all of them ?? kita being all observant? osamu being all curious ?

the emotional rollercoaster i am on in this chapter is crazy. i took my first break after suna interrupted (the kiss killed me), and im taking my second break right after atsumu confesssd (i was killed a second time). i was irritated during the cafe bc WHY r u avoiding me, and then the next second i’m like squealing 😭 the way that u write yue !! the way that u write . i am such a mess right now give me another moment

attempt 3 at reading - thoughts:

holy shit this scene . the kissing ? THE AAY YOU DESCDIBED IT from the first kiss ?? this one made my stomach FLIP omfg .

oh god the neck kisses . the .. the everything . my left leg has goosebumps idk why it’s only my left leg am i okay yue ? am i okay what’s wrong with me

i have a little ways to go i’m almost done but i need yet another break holy shit i have been reduced to a dizzy lil mess what have i become

attempt 4 at reading - thoughts:

oh my god ): oh my god ): what am i even supposed to say here. i love how u wrote the smut part ?? it feels like actual love ? he is so sweet pls

osamu interrupting had me jolting upright BECAUSE SUNA FIRST NOW OSAMU ? is kita the next victim ?? poor baby

AGHHH THE ENDING IS SO CUTE i fr feel like im in an anime ): i feel so pretty and so lovely THIS WAS SO LOVELYYY TYSMMM YUE FOR WRITING THIS

v. MISUNDERSTANDINGS

miya atsumu x f!reader

── next: vi. Epilogue: Sakura sweetness | series masterlist

synopsis: A drunken conversation with Atsumu leads to a cascade of events that has your mind practically exploding with endless questions, and with the way Atsumu has been acting, you want clear answers, and you’ll get them one way or another—even if it meant arguing in the twins’ shared apartment on a late Thursday afternoon.

chapter content warning: college au, mentions of alcohol use, intoxicated characters, cockblocker suna (rip), angst, hurt/comfort, awkward tension, atsumu & reader are dumbasses, arguing, light smut (mdni; nothing too explicit), nsfw, implied unprotected s*x, fluff towards the end yay, kita graduates from uni!, mutual pining, slow burn, requited unrequited love, friends to lovers, not beta read.

word count: 6.1k

notes: AAACKKKK last chapter!! also happy 1 month to this series !! i’m surprised i got to finish this in less than 2 months lmao considering how slow i am w writing :< divider: cafekitsune.

Light. Everything felt light—your head, body, voice, heart.

It felt like all the weight of your shoulders had been lifted, and you could be as carefree as a bird soaring through cerulean skies to be one with the wind. Because right this very moment, nothing mattered at all, not even the fact that you stood before the person you’ve been trying to avoid since the new year rolled around.

Tucked neatly at the back of your mind like a silent reminder, you knew you shouldn’t trust your intoxicated self right now—whether it be your thoughts or feelings but the urge to stop wasn’t there, and you felt extremely optimistic about this—all thanks to the burning alcohol that clouded every bit of your judgement.

Everything felt right.

As you met his caramel gaze, your vision tunnelled, everyone, and everything that surrounded both of you slowly turned into nothing but a mix of hazy hues, upbeat music that spilled from the speakers fading into the distance as you, and Atsumu entered your own world—even the orange-haired male with the bright, doe eyes melted away from your view.

Just you, and Atsumu, exactly how it was supposed to be.

With a bated breath, Atsumu wordlessly nodded, and awaited your next move, as if shackled in a hazy trance. He was fully aware of the thundering heartbeat that rang in his ears, the way his slender fingers ever so slightly dug into the scarlet plastic cup in his hand, cheeks burning with unexplainable emotions.

“Let’s talk somewhere else.”

It took all the effort for Atsumu to ignore the feeling of your bare skin against his, the searing touch of your fingers around his wrist as you hurriedly whisked him away into the intimate space of their kitchen, as if to shield you both from everyone else’s prying eyes. Despite a stained judgement, the blonde was sure no one gave a single damn if you were to talk it out in the living room, everyone was in their own buzz anyway.

Nonetheless, Atsumu let you take the lead, whatever you wanted, he obliged. As though he was floating on cloud nine, his body became lighter with each step taken, head lightly spinning, warmth that radiated from your palm seeped into his flushed skin, prickly, miniature kisses engulfing his body.

“I’m okay now.” Resting your lower back against the ivory granite countertops, you stare up at Atsumu through your lashes, not noticing your lingering fingers curled around his wrist. For a brief moment, your breath hitched, stomach churning at the sight before you. The lighting behind Atsumu made him look like absolute heaven, flaxen strands glowing like the first rays beneath the warm illuminant, casting an ethereal halo at the back of his head. It didn’t help how he stared down as if your eyes held the cosmos in them, completely awestruck.

Whatever, you chalked it up to his intoxicated state. What else could it have been?

For a brief moment, Atsumu wracked his brain for context behind your words, and as the invisible lightbulb atop his head switched on, he was reminded of the situation at hand. It definitely pulled his consciousness into sobriety. Just a tad bit.

“A-are y’sure?” A breathless, almost dainty whisper slipped past his rosy lips. He took note of the way your gaze shifted ever so slightly downwards, eyes crudely lingering on the plush of his bottom lip as his tongue briefly swiped against it.

Atsumu’s Adam’s apple bobbed at your not-so-subtle stare, stomach churning with want. He knew this feeling all too well—it visited him whenever he was alone in his room, mind wandering over to thoughts of you which filled every corner of his mind; sometimes the feeling was too strong, other times he could bear it. Tonight, though, Atsumu wasn’t sure if he was immune to this feeling, let alone erase any impulsive thoughts from his intoxicated mind.

What pulled you into this decision was something you’d never figure out; maybe it was the fact that your yearning heart grew tired of the icy distance between the two of you or maybe you’ve truly come to terms with his unreciprocated feelings—you didn’t know. All you knew was that nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations, especially when it involved feelings. But this could be an exception, right?

“So . . Does that mean we can be friends again?”

It was weird. Atsumu’s voice brimmed with a sense of hope—as if he’s been waiting for this very moment for the past two weeks—but the strange glint in his caramel eyes betrayed the blonde entirely.

Despite your better judgement, you chalked it up to the warm light that casted a soft shadow upon his features; maybe you were too dizzy to see things clearly, or maybe you were looking too deep into Atsumu’s expression—hoping to find some sort of sadness upon hearing your decision to move on, and accept his rejection.

Atsumu watched as your eyes traced his features, closely observing them as if to find some kind of answer; as selfish as it seemed, the intensity in your eyes gave him a tinge of hope that perhaps you could let yourself pine over him just a little longer because he wasn’t sure what he’d do with the knowledge that your heart would no longer yearn for him.

The situation was a double-edged sword, really.

You let out a puff of breath, “Yeah, of course. We’re friends again.” Friends. That word should have given you more relief than sorrow but could you really blame yourself? It felt like a bitter reminder of cold rejection which resembled salt pressed against an unhealed wound, a searing itch that left your skin feverish.

Even if it meant selling yourself short.

Avoiding his eye contact, you swiftly unwound your fingers from his wrist, mentally cursing yourself for not noticing any sooner. A cold embrace engulfed Atsumu’s wrist, where your fingers were mere seconds ago, he tried his best to ignore how his body yearned for your warmth. He gave a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

For a moment, you stood in each other’s silence like two predators sizing up one another, eagerly waiting for one’s move before pouncing, the silent hum of the fridge making up for the lack of conversation between one another.

How strange, this agreement should have cleared the unsettled air between you, and Atsumu but why did it feel like the complete opposite? As if the air turned into something more uncertain. You both knew you could feel the uncanny tension rising up, up, up but not one dared to address it.

Swiftly burying it under the rug, Atsumu spoke, thinly slicing through your trance, “You’ll find someone better.”

God, he must’ve really matured this new year because he didn’t know how he was able to say that straight to your face. Being one to wear his heart on his sleeve, this was completely foreign for Atsumu—or maybe he just got better at masking his true emotions.

You closed your eyes upon hearing his response, as if doing so would help you brave the weight of his words. It didn’t. That was the last thing you wanted Atsumu to say to you, ‘someone better’, it was brazen of him to think so poorly of himself, as though he wasn’t that certain someone. It was entirely unfair on your end because who was Atsumu to determine which person was for you?

Even just thinking about it had you fuming, rejection was one thing but completely disregarding the reason behind your feelings for him was another because in your eyes, Miya Atsumu was that ‘someone better’; he was the one who understood you the most, the one who always looked out for you, the one you fucking wanted.

And despite your mind telling you to nod along, and suck it up, the alcohol in your body was stronger; so, you opened your eyes, and furrowed your brows at him,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“But I don’t want anyone better, Tsumu. I want you.”

Atsumu’s eyes widened, the desperation in your voice was something he hadn't heard before, it definitely pulled at his heart, guilt gnawing at his skin for being the sole reason for your drunken actions. He may be drunk but he wasn’t stupid, Atsumu knew you should’ve kept that one to yourself, he could practically see you brimming with temerity but he’d be lying to himself if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat or two.

I want you, too. God, he wanted to say it back badly. The words were lodged in his throat, unable to slip past his lips despite the best efforts to do so.

It dawned on him—right then, and there—the severity of your feelings for him, the immense weight of it. Now, guilt really ate him away; he could only imagine how the past two weeks were for you. Did you cry while thinking about him?

That was the last thing Atsumu wanted.

Though, amidst the guilt, something else blossomed in his chest, it made him feel like he stood upon the highest pedestal. Atsumu didn’t know whether it was pride or greed; as fucked up as it was, he couldn’t bring himself to push the impulsiveness away as though you’ve infected him with your own. His heart hammered at a thought that formed in his mind, even just thinking about it stirred his chest.

Despite Atsumu’s better judgement, he held onto the feeling with a tight grip, and opened his mouth, tongue nervously swiping at the bottom lip,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“Is . . Is it bad that I really want to kiss you right now?”

You sucked in a breath, heart pounding at Atsumu’s sudden confession. If you were sober, you’d have a million thoughts racing through your mind right now, questioning the feelings he really had for you but unfortunately, only one thing was on your mind—how badly you wanted to kiss Atsumu too.

Dragging yourself further down, down, down the void of uncertainty, you shook your head in a daze,

Nothing good ever came out of inebriated conversations.

“What if I say I want to kiss you, too?” 

Barely audible but Atsumu heard it just fine over the pounding of his heart, over the incoherent conversations beyond this kitchen, over the muted bass music because as long as it's you, he’d always listen, even if it meant drowning out the entire world.

Then, there was a heartbeat, a passing second, a dip of a finger to test undisturbed waters; the funny thing was that even a minute disturbance could cause a ripple effect for miles, and miles, awakening the dormant creatures that lay beyond the azure surface.

It was swift, as though Atsumu had been waiting for this very moment to happen—one second you were locked in a trance, the next his lips were pressed against your own, a shared warmth of intimacy searing both bodies in an eternal blaze like a blue flame that dangerously destroyed everything in its path.

Shy. Warm. Soft. Rosy. Like it was meant to be. The list could go on, and on but it was as though your thoughts came quickly before your mind could register them, leaving you in a white, empty haze. With the plastic cups long forgotten on the counter behind, you closed your eyes as Atsumu’s body eagerly pressed against yours, strong arms coming up to rest on the granite countertop behind you, fingers digging into the material to ground himself.

For a moment, everything was still, lips unmoving against each other, a time to bask in this newfound intimacy—the foreignness of one another’s body. The earth felt like it spun on its axis way faster than usual, as if day, and night merged to become one; hues of late dusk, and early dawn intertwined like your bodies.

Bitterness from Atsumu’s rosy lips lingered on your own; you never liked the taste of beer but oddly enough, you didn’t mind it at all.

Your hands cupped Atsumu’s jaw, fingers gently digging onto his soft skin, eager for more as your lips moulded together. Slowly moving his mouth against your own, you followed suit to match the sensual pace he had set, falling deeper, and deeper between the hazy boundaries of friendship, and something a little more. Low whimpers slipped past between each feverish kiss as a drunken greed gradually controlled your bodies.

The initial softness of the kiss dissipated as each second passed, slowly turning into something more carnal, and passionate—breaths becoming heavier, and faces eagerly pressed against one another, angled in a way to grant more access.

Was this what cloud nine felt like? Exhilarating? Euphoric? As though there was no one else—

“Oh!—Holy shit. Did I interrupt?”

A familiar voice violently pulled you, and Atsumu back into reality, swiftly jumping away from each other’s hold, and looking over to the owner of the voice. Suna. The brunette stared at both of you—looking like a deer caught in headlights, chests heaving—his expression was unreadable, almost like a mix of shock, and amusement. You, and Atsumu kissing in the kitchen was absolutely not in his new year bingo card.

Well, this encounter certainly was enough to strip you into sobriety.

Your head spun a little, lungs severely deprived of oxygen. Shame, and realisation settled deep in your bones—shame because Suna just caught you, and Atsumu almost sucking the soul out of each other, and realisation because everything about this whole situation was so wrong; a million questions formulated in your mind as each awkward second passed.

On the other hand, Atsumu was equally as horrified, albeit annoyed that he didn’t have the chance to kiss you longer. The thrumming of his heart pounded in his ears, his mind trying to come up with anything to say just to stop the thoughts formulating in Suna’s mind—oh, he knows that look on his friend’s face very well.

Your view became obstructed by the expanse of Atsumu’s back, a subtle attempt to block you from the brunette’s gaze.

“W-what the hell, Suna?! Don’t jus’ barge into the kitchen, ya scrub!” Atsumu tried his best to act tough but miserably failed with the shakiness in his voice betraying him.

As if to make matters worse, Suna didn’t back down, a smug look painted on his flushed face as the blonde shamelessly blamed him,

“Well, how was I supposed to know that you two were sucking each other’s faces in the kitchen?!”

Did he have to word it like that?

Atsumu opened, and closed his mouth, trying to think of ways to deny Suna’s accusations but his mind went blank, even with just the brunette mentioning your kiss had him blushing like a mad man. Silence yet again occupied the kitchen, low bass music spilled from the speakers, and incoherent chatters from beyond the space making up for the lack of conversation.

Before the situation could get even more awkward, you spoke up, “I . . think I’m just going to go . . ” This gained both their attention, carefully watching as you navigated past Atsumu, and out the kitchen.

The blonde watched as you staggered past him, and Suna; he wanted to go after you, and talk about what just happened but the soles of his feet stayed rooted on the ground, too heavy to lift, even the words he wanted to say were lodged in his throat.

So, Atsumu decided it was best to let you go.

Monday. 

Everyone’s enemy but also a day to gather around the campus coffee shop with friends, and be productive for a while. The calming aroma of coffee engulfed your senses; low chatter from other customers, faint jazz music, and the occasional hum of the coffee machine filled the table from the lack of conversation. Despite the café’s light ambience, it didn’t do much to hide the growing tension that surrounded the group, specifically you, Atsumu, and Suna.

Kita was the first to notice the subtle shift of aura that emanated from you three, especially after catching a glimpse of Suna’s narrow eyes trailing from you to Atsumu over his laptop screen; though, he had much more things to worry about than to indulge himself in whatever tomfoolery this was. He’d ask questions later.

On the other hand, Osamu was more than curious, especially after his older twin started acting out of character—Atsumu wasn’t one to engulf himself in thoughts to the point where he’d be staring at an inanimate object, in a complete daze but lately, Osamu has seen him behave as such.

The latter could practically feel the weight of awkwardness pressing against his skin as he subtly watched the three of you. Of course, he did his best to pry off information from the blonde only to no avail; Osamu didn’t know why Suna was even caught up in this but he suspected it was from the party a few days ago.

He remembered seeing you stumble out of the kitchen when he was on his way to grab more drinks from their fridge, the younger twin thought nothing of it until he was met with Suna, and Atsumu awkwardly standing in the kitchen. Normally, Osamu would’ve asked questions that night but the alcohol in him couldn’t care less about the situation.

Staring at the untouched document pulled up on your laptop, you ducked behind your screen to avoid Suna’s wandering gaze, and Osamu’s not-so-subtle curiosity. This was hell. You didn’t even know why you decided to turn up today after that shit show at the party—maybe because you thought you could shove down that memory especially after telling Atsumu that you were fine or maybe you craved the closeness you two once had, and now you were here to rebuild that.

As easy as it sounded, you feared it might not be so with the way Atsumu has been avoiding you like the plague. First, it started when you walked into the café at the same time as the twins, Osamu greeted you at the door before heading inside leaving you, and Atsumu outside. Now, that would’ve been fine if the latter didn’t make a show of taking a couple of steps back to let you go first as though you carried some kind of incurable disease.

The second time was when Atsumu realised the only vacant seat was next to your own, thus, asking to swap with Osamu just so he could sit farthest away from you. And the third was when you had asked him if he was alright while waiting in line to order only to be met with a mindless nod before returning to his phone in his hand.

You tried your very best to ignore the blooming pain in your chest; sure, being sad about Atsumu possibly avoiding you was reasonable but then again, you were the one who told him you were okay now—how Atsumu decided to act after the party was beyond your control.

God but it pissed you off. Swallowing one’s pride, and making effort to rekindle a cold friendship was not an easy feat when the other doesn’t do the same. It shouldn’t work you up this much but it did, and now you were second guessing yourself that maybe it was an irrational decision to abruptly tell Atsumu that you’ve come to terms with moving on.

That night at the party, were you lying to yourself just so you could be around him again?

Whatever. It was too late to take it back anyway.

The days ahead were monotonous, and boring; you, and Atsumu remained orbiting around one another, careful not to get into each other’s path of trajectory but it was tiring. Not only did it feel like navigating through eggshells while he was around but the constant questions from your friends tested your limits. Though, it wasn’t their fault for simply being curious, and getting left in the dark about the whole situation but the prying felt like endless jabs of sharp needles along your skin.

From their point of view, you, and Atsumu were stubborn about the whole situation. None dared to speak up about it, acting as though everything was fine, so your friends were left with very little to work with.

It felt like a game of cat, and mouse where you were the feline chasing Atsumu around. The longer the days dragged on, the more thoughts formulated in your mind, and they all involved the blonde in some way or another. And just like everyone else, you had your limits too; you were tired of Atsumu acting like a stubborn idiot.

When you confessed to Atsumu, sure, you expected an awkward phase but this was even worse. There wasn’t just distance between the two of you, it felt like you were strangers.

He was known for brashly saying the sharp truth, so why couldn’t he be straightforward with you? Was he disgusted by the kiss, and deeply regretted it? Did he think you were weird? You didn’t know, but you were bound to find out even if it meant knocking at the twin’s apartment door at 5:45 PM on a cold, rainy Thursday.

With the sun hidden behind the looming grey clouds, the late winter afternoon was even darker; the roads were packed with vehicles while the sidewalks occupied students, and company workers alike trying their best to shield themselves from the heavy downpour. Despite the streets being illuminated with a tinge of warm yellow from cars, and streetlights, it did nothing to brighten up the gloomy day.

Funny, it was as though the universe knew how you felt today.

“If yer lookin’ for ‘Samu, he won’t be back until 8 PM.” Greeted with Atsumu’s shocked face as the ivory door to their apartment opened, you couldn’t help but visibly roll your eyes at his stubbornness. Yeah, like you’d be here at their apartment looking for Osamu—you knew each of their timetables like the back of your hand.

Flaxen strands that sat atop his head were unruly, a sign that he must’ve been taking a nap sometime ago. Atsumu donned a light blue hoodie paired with black sweats; you tried your best not to ogle the man, after all, you were here for a sensible talk.

“I’m here for you, Miya.”

Atsumu gripped the metal handle a little tighter, the coolness of it seeping into the warmth of his skin. He tried not to flinch at the sudden formality of the conversation. Nonetheless, the blonde pulled the door wider, a wordless invite to their humble space. Giving him a small smile before walking inside, you tried not to think about the last time you were here, and how you found yourself drunkenly kissing Atsumu in their kitchen.

The sound of the door closing shut behind Atsumu reverberated throughout the walls of their apartment, followed by a deafening silence. Met with his honeyed stare, you awkwardly coughed, and played with the hem of your jacket, “I’m not going to take up too much of your time . . but I do just have one question.”

There was a momentary silence as Atsumu waited for you to proceed; he had so many questions running through his mind right now, and it took all his willpower to hold them back, and let you speak instead. It was getting harder, and harder to focus as each second passed with the pounding of his heart—Atsumu didn’t know what to expect.

“Did you—Did you regret that kiss . . ?”

Your skin burned as the question lingered in the air, a beat or two before Atsumu finally spoke up, “. . N-no, why’d ya ask?”

Sighing, impatience prickled your feverish skin. ‘Why’d you ask?’  What the hell does he mean by why would I ask? We made out for fuck sake, that’s something friends don’t do! Why is he acting so casual about it? 

“God, this just made it a lot worse. I have so many fucking questions that my mind wants to explode right now,” Pinching the bridge of your nose, you slowly paced back, and forth, the floors beneath silently creaking with each step. So, Atsumu didn’t regret the kiss but he’s acting like you’re strangers—fucking hell, why did he even kiss you in the first place?!

Your mind was a complete mess.

Trying to calm yourself down with slow, deep breaths, you decided to address the elephant in the room first, “Then why have you been avoiding me, Atsumu?—I’m sorry but I’m the one who got rejected, I cannot think of any reason why you should be avoiding me like this.” Atsumu hated that look on your face—the desperation, the sadness, the frustration. He never thought that he’d be the one making you feel all these negative emotions, and it pained him as much as it pained you.

Atsumu let out a sigh, carefully formulating the right words into a coherent sentence, “I’m just . . trying to be careful, okay?” His stomach dropped as your face contorted with more confusion.

Did he say something wrong?

“Careful about what, Atsumu?! You—ugh! It’s so hard to talk to you when you’re giving me all these stupidly vague answers! I’ve already told you I was fine. I don’t care anymore that you don’t like me back. I just want us to be back to normal again.”

Now, it was Atsumu’s turn to be upset. He couldn’t bear the thought of you moving on so quickly, and that’s why he’s been acting distant lately; it annoyed him how easy it was for you to talk to him like nothing happened but Atsumu knew he couldn’t tell you the reason—why couldn’t you just try, and understand his situation? Rejecting wasn’t an easy task to do, especially if it was the person he had been hopelessly pining for.

“Well—maybe things aren’t meant ta back ta normal!”

What?

You stared at him for a second, brows furrowed as you tried to comprehend his words that lingered in the cold air of their apartment. Silence engulfed the two of you, the distant sounds of Hyōgo’s late afternoon rain seeping through the slightly opened window.

“Do you feel uncomfortable around me after knowing the fact that I have feelings for you? Is that it?” “God, no—I could never feel that way.”

It took all of Atsumu’s patience not to wrap his arms around you—he wanted to hold you against him badly; that defeated look on your face broke his heart but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Maybe Atsumu was the coward after all.

“Then tell me what’s wrong, ‘Tsumu!”

“It’s hard f’me as well, y’know?!” “What is?”

Atsumu closed his eyes, the words he’s been wanting to scream at the top of his lungs lodged in his throat, threatening to slip out. A wave of adrenaline rush coursed through his veins, heart pounding like crazy with this newfound high, it made him feel as though he was invincible—as if he could say anything, and everything without a care for its consequences.

Fuck it.

“Fuck—It’s because I like ya back, okay?! I always have! And rejectin’ ya was so goddamn hard f’me because I’m still not over ya. God, I think about ya every single second, and it pains me so much because yer already movin’ on, and ‘m still stuck here.”

What?

Flabbergasted, you stared at Atsumu all wide-eyed, the thrumming of your heart becoming increasingly loud against your ears as each slow second passed. Did he just say he liked you back? As though mother nature was watching, the rain outside poured harder; sounds of droplets of heavy water against the roof filled the silent apartment, pulling you back into reality.

“Then why—If you feel the same way then why did you reject me?”

When you knocked on the door to the twins’ apartment, you expected a sincere conversation with Atsumu, not him confessing his feelings out of the blue. You were absolutely speechless—you didn’t know whether to jump for joy because he actually does like you back or whether to massage your temples from pure confusion.

“Back then during the trip, ya told me ya weren’t ready for a relationship yet, and that ya only wanted ta confess ta get rejected n’ move on. I wanted ta respect yer decision, so . .”

Flashbacks of said conversation from the trip quickly came into mind, and how you told Atsumu about not being ready for a relationship yet.

Oh.

Oh.

The weight of frustration from your shoulders slowly dissipated, the pent up annoyance you held in your heart was gone too. Suddenly, you weren’t so frustrated anymore after learning about the whole truth behind the situation. You were able to breathe better with the bad air finally cleared between you, and Atsumu.

Looking at it now, you felt absolutely silly. The whole situation turned out to be one big misunderstanding, it was almost laughable—now, you truly understood the essence of communication is key.

You let out a humourless laugh, “You’re so stupid, you know that?” Taking a few steps toward the blonde, you leaned your forehead against his chest, a hand coming up to curl into a fist to lightly hit it; a faint scent of his musky cologne lingered on the fabric of his hoodie, effectively invading your senses. Atsumu didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your torso, pulling your body flush against his before resting his chin on the crown of your head.

For a beat or two, you, and Atsumu remained in each other’s hold, basking in the cosy atmosphere. 

“Would I be more stupid if I tell ya I want ta pick up where we left off at the party?”

Before you knew it your lips were sealed in a searing kiss—this time, it felt raw, all things passionate, and eager. Hands impatiently roaming each other’s unexplored bodies, sounds of wet kisses slowly filling up the apartment. The atmosphere shifted from cosy to something more sensual, light groans, and moans slipping in between each kiss.

Your hands rested on Atsumu’s golden strands, fingers gently tugging at it as he worked his lips down the column of your neck, teeth lightly nipping at the feverish skin. Atsumu focused on a certain spot just below your ear, nipping, and sucking at it which pulled a dainty whine from your lips.

“‘T-Tsumu—Ah!” You gasped, his tongue leaving trails of goosebumps beneath its sinful licks against your skin. He cursed under his breath, the dizzying tone of your voice awakening the slumbering carnal beast that resided in his core. With each dulcet moan that slipped past your swollen lips, Atsumu became greedier, he wasn’t going to settle for mere kisses on your skin—he needed to hear more.

Pulling away from your intoxicating scent, Atsumu looked down at you with parted lips, and hooded eyes, caramel gaze clouded with nothing but pure desire. “I think we should take this ta my room.” He panted.

Nodding at his proposal, hurried footsteps padded over to his room as though each second wasted was crucial. As soon as the door behind Atsumu slammed shut, his lips were on yours once again, strong hands deftly working on the layers of clothing you wore, slowly slipping them off of you one by one; Atsumu could practically feel himself shaking with nervousness, and excitement.

Discarding your top on the wooden floor beneath, Atsumu stared wide-eyed at your torso, both hands coming up to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra, earning a low moan from you. The air of the room felt cold against your skin but Atsumu’s touch was enough to ignite you.

“So beautiful . .” He absent-mindedly gasped, a lovestruck look in his honeyed eyes.

Hands eagerly tugging at the hem of his hoodie, Atsumu swiftly pulled the fabric off his torso in one movement, golden strands tousled from the action. Goosebumps formed upon his sun kissed skin, bare torso met with the cold winter air; your eyes raked Atsumu’s physique up, and down, shamelessly ogling his muscled chest in all its naked glory. God, you used to just fantasise about this, and now it was served right in front of you on a silver platter.

You decorated each other’s skin with endless love bites, sinful hues of dark red, and purple peppered along your chest, and neck. Atsumu took his sweet time to savour every bit of you—your taste, your scent, your sounds, everything. He made sure to bask in your serene beauty, the gentle glow of your bare figure before utterly devouring you like a starved animal, ravaging your purity with carnal desire.

Atsumu let himself go at the raw intimacy of your bodies, the feeling of your sweet warmth brought tears of pleasure in his eyes as he pushed, and pushed towards the newfound ecstasy you both shared. The chant of his name slipped past your lips like a sinful melody, mere fuel to the relentless drive of his hips. But Atsumu held you dearly against his naked body through it all, fingers intertwined with your own as he keenly chased both your pleasures, choked out moans of your name whispered hotly against your sensitive skin.

And as you both tipped over the edge, Atsumu didn’t fail to tell you how much he loved you in between each pathetic moan as he painted your insides white, the dizzying pleasure contorting his handsome face in pure ecstasy. You held him in your arms, nails digging crescent-shaped marks on his skin, whispering saccharine praises to him as you let go, and emptied the words of your heart.

As the gentle aftermath of the passionate exchange rolled around, Atsumu held you in his arms, hearts beating as one, and lulling you both to sleep. The last thing you heard was a faint ‘I love you’ before passing out from exhaustion.

“‘Tsumu, what did ya want for—Oh my god! What the fuck?!” 

A familiar voice abruptly pulled you, and Atsumu out of your sleep, followed by the loud bang of his door slamming shut. Muffled expletives from outside the room could be heard as you both stirred beneath the ivory sheets. “‘Tsumu, what the hell?! Ya should’ve warned me before I went into yer room!” Osamu yelled from the other side of the door.

Atsumu groaned, rubbing his face before turning to the door, “Shut yer trap! Ya should’ve knocked!” At his twin’s silence, he let out a sigh, and slung a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his naked body before closing his eyes once again.

You let out a soft chuckle, “We really need to stop getting caught. First, Suna, and now Osamu.” Atsumu hummed in response, too sleepy to even think or form a coherent sentence. Snuggling closer to him, you closed your eyes, and went back to sleep as well.

Oh, you could get used to this.

Winter slowly turned into spring as March rolled around—the end of the academic year.

Trees that were once bare slowly blossomed with flowers, hues of yellows, and browns were replaced with endless greenery, and frigid air became more welcoming like a warm embrace. Most importantly, the cold distance between you, and Atsumu no longer existed, instead, it was replaced by fluttering heartbeats, and fluffy moments that hinted at a sweet forevermore.

“There he is! How does it feel to be a fresh graduate!” Suna whistled as Kita walked over to the group, clad in a black academic gown with a matching trencher propped neatly on his head, the golden tassel on the cap swayed with every step taken; he donned a warm smile, one hand holding his well-deserved degree.

The buzz of excitement outside the venue was high, the graduation ceremony having finished just a few minutes ago. You were all surrounded by graduands, all with heartfelt smiles on their faces as they conversed with family, and friends alike. 

As your friends fell into a merry conversation, a warm hand interlaced with your own, giving your hand a comfortable squeeze. Atsumu. Looking up at your boyfriend, he cheekily leaned into your ear, whispering an ‘I love you’ before slowly blinking at you, mirroring a cat’s action. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at his antics.

“Are you two lovebirds done, now?” Suna coughed, pulling you back into reality.

Met with amused expressions plastered on your friends’ faces, you, and Atsumu returned a sheepish smile before joining in their conversation. “Anyway, we were talkin’ about how we should celebrate Kita’s graduation. It can also serve as a treat for us for makin’ it through another academic year.” Osamu explained, earning a hum of approval from you, and Atsumu.

“How about a spring trip to Kyoto?” —

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© atsumou 2024 | don’t plagiarise, repost or steal my header.

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (consent somno)

Sleeping with Simon means you might wake up from the tingling yet comfortable feeling coming from your breast, still disoriented from the slumber, letting out a sleepy whimper as the pleasure keeps coursing through your spine like tiny lightnings.

“Morning.” Simon doesn’t even detach his lips from your nipples as he greets you, lapping lazily and rolling the little peaks with his hot tongue.

“Simon…” Your fingers card through his locks to encourage him, he’s always extra horny in the early morning, but the eagerness in his movements is more evident now than the other days, practically burying his face in your breasts. “What got you so worked up today?” you ask him between the moans caused by his antics, his intentional sucking on one of your sensitive buds makes you unable to hold back a whiny cry of bliss.

“Wake up and see you sleeping in my arms, safe and sound…” Simon huffs out a laugh when he gives your nipples a nip, eliciting a yelp on you “You wearing my shirt, leaning against my chest, just the right angle for me to peek in the collar and see those cute nipples of yours…”

“It’s not my fault, you told me to wear one of your shirts last night.” Your pouty facade can’t be kept on for long, not when he finishes taking good care of your now fully hardened nipples, peppering kisses on his way downwards, as if memorizing your body and claiming his territory again with those pink love bites.

“And you’re the one who chose the thinnest and loosest shirt, ain’t you?” Taking your clothed clit between his lips, he smirks as he dart out his tongue, pressing down forcefully at your core and toying it skillfully, so you’ll throw your head back on the pillow and grind your needy pussy against his lips, begging for more with those sugar-coated pleas. “Fuck, all greedy and soaked just from me worshipping your tits, sweetheart? Who’s the eager one now, eh?”

“Just…Just pull down the panties already, god…” Not enough, your mind screams for more, yearns for his lips directly touching your wet folds.

“Bossy.” He chastises you, like you’re an impatient girl craving for candies, but he won’t deny you—or deny himself, from tasting what he’s been wanting since he woke up this morning.

Pulling down your panties and let it pull around your ankles, not even sparing time to take it off properly, he dives back between your thighs, wet tongue gliding through your core, drinking down those nectar as you reach out and push his face down further, the crook of his nose nudging your clit so good that you roll your hips to meet his consistent onslaught.

“Bloody hell, princess…smells so fucking good.” He groans, a low and half-growling one which only worsen your insatiable desires. Even when he lifts his head slightly to speak, his hands immediately move in, sliding two thick and long fingers into your dripping cunt, pumping and pressing the correct spots to make you scream out his name.

“Trying to wake the neighbors up with those cute moans, huh? ‘m not sure if they’ll feel grateful.” Thumbs spreading your pussy lips, he latches onto the now-exposed clit, bringing you another level of joy by sucking that twitching little thing.

“Simon! Si- oh, gonna…” You try to warn him before you get pushed over the edge abruptly, liquid gushing out and smearing his face, only for him to moan contently and make sure not to miss any drop.

“What a sight…” Straightening up and looking at the pool of mess staining the bedsheets, before his gaze travel to you face, eyes still blurry and cheeks tinted with rosy red, panting and quivering after squirting so hard for him, Simon smacks your pussy teasingly, earning another delectable whimper from you. “Squirting all over the sheets, will have to change it later.”

“Can’t go another round, baby…” You look down at him the moment his lips touch your puffy folds once again, big eyes meeting his dark ones with satisfaction and tiredness, but your protest is cut off by a soft smack on right on your trembling clit, and further words are replaced with moans when he ducks down to resume devouring his favorite meal, pressing a reassuring kiss to your pussy and croon. “Won’t stop until you squirt again for me, you can do it, love, and you will do it.”

[s0dium]

I need you

Synopsis: Choso needs to fuck you despite the fact that you are Yuuji's babysitter.

Warnings: Desperate sex, rough sex

Visual link: xxxxx

Choso thinks you are an angel.

Honestly.

He marvels at how you always help his family out by babysitting his little brother Yuji, even if it's late at night. Your kindness shines through in every action, and he can't help but notice how your eyes glow like an angel's, your skin seems so soft, and your voice carries a soothing, gentle tone. It's not just what you do; it's the way you do it, with such grace and beauty, that makes him believe you truly are a blessing to his family.

So that is why he must do this.

His touches are relentless, drawing you into his room the moment Yuuji is asleep. You can barely even get a word in before his bigger hands are under your shirt, exploring the warmth of your skin, a desperate longing evident in each caress. You want to tell him to slow down, to truly connect beyond the frantic urgency. But your words dissolve into breathless whispers as you meet his dark tired eyes that are practically begging for you, begging to be with you, begging to feel you.

"I like kissing you." He murmurs against your lips. "I like you. I like you so much, you are so pretty. I like and love you."

You let yourself fall into his touch and Choso captures your mouth with his, a deep, enveloping kiss that makes you moan and whine for more. As he gently removes your tank top and shorts, leaving you in your bra and underwear and he devotes attention to every inch of your skin, delivering tender nips, soft sucks, and gentle bites.

"Perfect." He mumbles under his breath, burying his nose into the crook of your neck to pepper the delicate skin with soft kisses. "Fuck, you are so perfect, baby."

Your mind grows fuzzy at his words and you let out a sharp gasp when you feel him pull the hem of your underwear down your legs.

"Jump," he commands softly, his voice a low rumble that reverberates through you. Without hesitation, you leap up and in one fluid motion, he lifts you up. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, securing you against him as he presses you against the wall. Your fingers find their way into his black hair tied up in buns long, tugging gently at the strands, anchoring yourself to him as his kisses deepen. You don't even notice that he has lowered his pants until you feel the hard pressure against your tight hole, making you instinctively squirm away.

"Stay still f'me ok baby?" Choso groans, peppering kisses along your jaw while he aligns himself with you. Without warning, he thrusts into you, the sudden friction and collision with your G-spot knocking the wind out of your lungs. It's as if every fiber of your being is tuned to this moment, each caress and sensation amplifying the pleasure that surges through you. You feel a soft shiver start at the base of your spine, traveling upward, making your skin tingle with exquisite delight. Ticklish pleasure courses through your veins and you immediately throw your head back against the wall as Choso thrusts into you.

"Hnghh, s-so good~~" You whine. It was dizzying, the grith of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, the euphoria of him fitting snuggly against walls with every thrust. The friction is incredible and it made pain quickly turn into pleasure. The tightness of your cunt has Choso gasping for breath, the grip on your hips almost bruising as he tries to keep himself from spilling inside of you right here and now.

"I can feel you baby, sh-shit, I can feel you doing it to me." Choso is not a whining man but here he is falling apart at the warmth of your cunt. God you were heaven, he thinks he would be eternally happy if he could just spend all his time inside of you, feeling you squeeze around him, smelling the intoxicating scent of your shampoo. He uses you like his personal cock sleeve, thrusting up into your warm cunt with such vigor that it shapes your insides and bruises your cervix until your entire body jolts with sensitivity.

For a moment, he slows down, leaning down to the space between you and letting a glob of thick spit drop onto your clit. He moves side to side, opening up your folds and rubbing your clit. You cry from the pleasure and Choso's Adam apple bobs as he groans as well.

He's close, and he knows you are too.

He is glaring at you with hooded eyes, watching the expressions of pleasure you make intently. Choso is caught in some sort of trance, like even though he is fucking you, he is powerless to you.

Your mind begins to drift, losing itself in the intensity of the experience of Choso fucking you. Time seems to blur, and the world around you fades, leaving only the profound connection between you and the pleasure you're immersed in. Each moment stretches and deepens, and you're carried away by the ebb and flow of sensations. Your body responds instinctively, arching off the wall and lifting your hips to meet Choso's thrusts, seeking more, craving the next wave of ecstasy. The pleasure builds and builds, a crescendo that fills you to the brim. It's a symphony of sensation, a dance of pure, unadulterated joy that leaves you breathless and yearning.

And then, in a glorious, breathtaking instant, it peaks. The world seems to explode in a kaleidoscope of bliss, and you are utterly consumed by it. Your heart races, your breath catches, and for a moment, you are weightless, suspended in a universe of pure pleasure.

Luckily for you, Choso is right there with you. His mind dips into a ocean of pleasure and before he can put a stop to it, he is spilling load upon loads of himself in you.

Damn it, he should've done this sooner.

[kurooh]

when choso first learns about what facesitting really is, he brings it up after a make out session that’s left you both hot and heavy. he’s tugging on your hand, practically begging you to take a seat.

“i-i’m not sure,” you stutter, unsure. “what if you suffocate or something? i don’t wanna hurt you..”

the look he gives you is one of pure need and longing. “i don’t care, just sit baby. please.”

for good measure, choso gives you a little pout, breaking into giggles and a smile once you slip your panties and shorts off. your thighs tremble as you hover above his face, eyes squeezing shut at the heat of his breath against your sticky cunt.

“mmm, that’s no good,” he remarks, large hands rising to your hips and settling lightly. “i told you, sit down.” choso’s strong, yanking you down hard onto his face; you feel and hear his muffled moan when your pussy’s all over his whole face.

“choso!”

“so, so fucking good,” choso gasps against you, holding your squirming body in place as his tongue laps and laps at your sticky cunt.

beneath you, his body’s sweltering with heat, racing through every nerve like electricity while tight pressure builds in his cock. with a glance over your shoulder, you notice his hips rutting into the air as he searches for friction.

“cho,” you sob, so overwhelmed you actually feel tears building in your eyes, “i-i wanna suck you off, ‘s not fair—”

he easily lifts you and peers up at you from between your thighs, face flushed and shining with your slick. with a shaky finger, you nudge some of his hair away from his forehead.

“don’t want you to,” it’s painful to say, because he really does, but that’s simply a distraction for the both of you. “baby,” he murmurs gently, “i want you to focus on cumming for me, ‘s all, okay?”

you nod quietly, and the gesture is met with a mild slap to your ass. “okay, cho,” the moment the words leave your bitten lips, he’s pulling you back down and greedily drinking all of you in, taking whatever he can get.

choso’s ministrations encourage you to roll your hips against his face; a light bump of his nose to your clit has you crying out and grinding all over him. that’s right, he thinks, stars in his closed eyes. he wishes he could tell you to use him to get off, but he’d have to lift you up and he doesn’t want to even breathe.

unconsciously, he matches your pace, his hips rising into the air in synchrony with your own. one of your hands slips into his silky hair and tugs; he’s your anchor, keeping you somewhat steady although he’s the reason you can’t stop shaking.

“choso,” you wail loudly, angling your hips to let him take your clit between his lips and suck, “oh, i’m so close, ‘m gonna cum soon—”

from between your thighs, choso sees everything: the parting of your lips, the way your face crumbles in absolute pleasure, the brief moment of stillness as you fully fall over the edge.

it’s too much and not enough, but he cums too.

“c-cumming, choso,” is all you can muster, riding out your orgasm on his face and tongue while his hips buck wildly into the air.

the muffled moan you feel deep in your cunt makes you gasp, pulling away at the feeling of overstimulation, but he’s holding you tight. a look over your shoulder at the right moment, and you watch as his clothed cock explodes, gushing cum and soaking his boxers.

after all your squirming and pulling away, choso finally lets you go with crescent moon indents in your plush skin and a loud huff.

“i wasn’t done,” he heaves, skin smeared with your cum. it’s glossy and messy, but he won’t think about washing it off until you’ve cum at least three more times.

“but you came and everything, i—”

choso silences you by sealing his lips against yours, and you can briefly taste yourself— sweet, just like he’s always said.

“a few more times, please?”

[tonycries]

Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now. 

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be. 

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What? 

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird. 

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer. 

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street. 

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing. 

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.” 

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation. 

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?” 

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?” 

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from. 

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.” 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now. 

“Alright. Plan B, then.” 

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you? 

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner. 

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head. 

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.” 

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly. 

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house. 

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins. 

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app. 

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo. 

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least. 

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in. 

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner. 

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in. 

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual. 

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed. 

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside. 

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you. 

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking. 

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner. 

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit. 

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you. 

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders. 

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now. 

Gathered here - for you. 

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them. 

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.” 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second. 

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane. 

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.” 

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily. 

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up. 

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru. 

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold. 

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to. 

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list. 

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain. 

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands. 

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod. 

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight. 

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting. 

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it. 

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.” 

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~” 

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.” 

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger. 

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. 

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table. 

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before. 

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

 Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today. 

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic. 

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.” 

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.” 

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave. 

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.  

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. 

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it. 

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were. 

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.” 

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.” 

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip! 

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically. 

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub. 

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard.  “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now. 

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.” 

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please. 

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him. 

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-”  You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want. 

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue. 

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear. 

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time. 

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. 

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now. 

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all. 

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back. 

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.” 

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard. 

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything. 

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot. 

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock  like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be. 

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much. 

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy. 

“Close?” 

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper. 

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now. 

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him. 

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[screampied]

✩ㅤ cw. fem! reader, unprotected, established relationship, vırgin nanami, cowgirl, praise, size kink, premature ejac, mdni.

virgin nanami loses it once you tell him to ditch the condom.

“sweetheart, i—” he’d swallow, choking up on his words once cool air settles against his skin. he swallows, chewing on his bottom lip once he feels a brand new feeling. the rubbery latex wasn’t blocking him anymore, and he groans once his swollen tip smears up against your entrance. soaked, he grows quiet once he looks down to see your dripping pussy hovering over his reddened frenulum that’s tearing up with glossed pre-cum. “god, ‘s warm,” the blond sucks in a single quickened breath as a curling pout twists against his lips. “a- are you sure?”

“ ‘m sure, baby,” you whisper up against the hot shell of his ear. he’s so warm, his entire body arouse with temperature all because of the sweet sound of your voice. the center of your palm rubs against his cheek and he leans into your touch. metaphoric heart eyes form in his eyes as they dilate, his own thumping heart beating out of his chest. “ ‘s okay, inside.”

“f- fuck,” nanami’s head gradually tosses itself back, and with quick alignment, he’s back inside. he kisses his teeth once he feels the real thing, your silvery walls massaging around him. the glossy sweat that pours onto his skin shines against his body glimmers brightly. he groans, letting off a soft whine once he feels the brief tightness grow snug. “you’re gonna make me—”

and within seconds, he’s cumming, hard. nanami barely even last a second after you take off the rubber, and he’s an entire mess. with a firm grasp, he’s reanimating your hips with his hands as you slowly jerk and move. “please,” he gently pierces his teeth into your neck, shivering breath ghosting against your skin. “don’t stop, s- show me how to feel good, please.”

his words were like a broken rough whisper — you pause, staring into his eyes and he’s sincere.

nanami’s heavily panting, beads of sweat racing down each sides of his forehead. fawn kind eyes bore into yours before he glances down at your sprawled out legs. “so pretty,” he hiccups, and even his touch was delicate. he was always gentle, he didn’t want to hurt you. a few thick padded fingers drag and scurry down your hips before his lip quivers. “i- i want you, i want more.”

“so have me then,” you coo against his ear, the tone of your voice more teasing than anything. as your hips start to salaciously rock into him again, you grab onto both of his wrists, trying to guide him. “there we go, ‘ken,” you whisper, and you can hear a bundle of wanton whimpers leave from his lips—never has he had a feeling like this, ever. he was so weak from your touch, your body heat, your taste. as your fingers tenderly brush against his, you make him cling onto your rickety waist. “hold me, like this.”

nanami groans, and he’s still sensitive, very. he just came, ribbons of balmy hot seed shoots deep into you and it’s warm. it makes both of his ears ring and he only wants more, more, more.

“okay,” he replies in a husky voice, and you can see blond shaggy strands of hair glue across his forehead. “o- okay,” he repeats, his tone dropping a bit lower. the bed mercilessly creaks as your rocking accelerates, his bulbous tip jabbing around every part of your cunt. once you show him how to touch you, he just can’t keep his hands off of you. “i dreamt about this for so long, sweetheart,” and he watches your pretty lips contort into an amused simper. “s- sorry, is that too dirty?”

“it’s fine baby,” you plant a kiss near the inside of his neck. a long breath gets caught in his throat. he’s about to say something else but he pauses, pouting deeply. cute, he’s embarrassed. nanami’s cock continues to rummage through your doughy insides, so much pressure that you feel it everywhere. your sappy folds squelch within each solid thrust before your arms wrap around his broad shoulders. “you dream about me?”

“sometimes, yeah,” he huffs, and the irregular unkempt thrusts slowly transform into pure blissful sync. nanami looks so pretty, he’s losing the more you bounce on his cock. so good, his jaw tightens and he’s feeling every vein in his body prod. you were starting to grow dumb as each second past and your moans only grew louder right with him. nanami’s head buries itself into your neck before he lefts off a frustrated whine. “it’s hard not to when you’re so pretty,” and his voice cracks at the end. you feel the tip of his tongue swirl around near your collarbone and you gasp. “god, you’re even prettier inside t- too.”

“yeah?” you whisper, creating a trail of sloppy kisses down the slip of his exposed neck. he’s moaning more at your touch. you feel his beefy thigh start to bounce before his palm squeezes against your bare ass. “you gonna cum for me again, kento? ‘s okay, be a good boy ‘n make a mess for me.”

a sheepish smile stretches against his lips, though instead of sheepish smile—it’s more of a pussy drunk one.

as you stare at him, his dimples poke against both sides of his cheeks and he’s getting lost into the way your hips twirl around him. “your good boy, mhm. all yours, ‘m gonna cum a- again,” and his voice lowers significantly. your clit’s profusely getting thwacked and mashed up against his fattened tip and it’s so appetizing. with nanami’s soft mousy eyes flicking backward until it’s nothing but pure white in his sockets, he gives your ass a soft spank. “k- keep riding me like that ‘n i’m gonna fall in love.”

and it’s right as he said that — he came again.

this time it’s a lot more. it’s thicker and languidly, you feel it spew out in velvety strips. his entire base was flaccid and he’s just idle inside of you. nanami’s whimpering underneath you as his legs finally collapse. you watch him fall back against the cushioned pillows and he’s so flustered. “mhh,” he grouses as multiple jittery pants leave from his lips. nanami wraps strong burly arms around you, holding you close. “stay,” he rasps, still hearing the sloshes of his dribbling cum trickle in and out of you. he’s shivering, his teeth shattering and he’s never felt more sensitive. he’s definitely in love.

“okay,” you nod, feeling him hide his head into the crook of your neck again. he’s so clingy—but you didn’t mind, and his warm breath tickles against your skin. you get a brief scent of his rich cologne scent that drives forevermore drove you weak. sitting up to press a chaste kiss against his twitching ruby lips, you whisper shakily. “good boy.”

and nanami’s eyes were so half lidded, your praises—he couldn’t get enough of them. seconds later and he’s still pouring into you deep, painting your gummy walls with his pristine-white color. with droopy eyes and flapping long lashes taking in your beauty, nanami whines. “more, don’t stop fucking me,” and you let off a gasp once he suddenly lifts you off his lap, lying you flat on your back. you land with a soft ‘oof’ before he spreads your legs, gazing at the satiny masses of cum that race down the crevices of your thighs.

“please,” and you moan once he drags his tongue up your legs, stopping towards your puffy clit. “teach me h- how to eat this,” and his eyes rove towards your slobbering cunt. you feel butterflies build up in your tummy before nanami’s quite literally drooling right before you. not only was he probably in love, he was also hungry.

“please mistress.”

[webism]

prt one, prt three

pornstar!satoru who pays for a month of your onlyfans—for research purposes. he needs to find out who this boyfriend of yours is, and figure out a way to get rid of him.

pornstar!satoru who knew it was a long shot, that you might not even show him on your page at all. and of course he got distracted a few times whilst scrolling through your posts, dick rock solid and at attention with each new angle of you of his screen.

pornstar!satoru who, when he finds the more homemade stuff, he’s pathetically jealous of the man that frequents your bed so often. how big his hands look as they lay lovingly over your skin, how in love you look as you suck his cock, how well his tip hits your g-spot over and over and—of course he fucking knows him. a video of you on your back piques his attention, your man in between your legs and lapping at your needy pussy like he’s starved. satoru knows that long hair, that cheeky sexdrunk smile that pulls at his lips while he eats you out, he knows those purple fucking eyes that turn to glance at the camera.

of course it’s pornstar!suguru.

pornstar!satoru who suddenly has his cock out, languid strokes of his fist over his length is nothing to the memories of pornstar!suguru's lips wrapped around his length. who is so enthralled by the knowledge that both him and his former co-star have gotten to feel the flutter of your pussy around their cocks.

pornstar!satoru whos fingers are frantic as he searches for more of you together, and ends up spending way too much money on subscriptions just to watch you get fucked stupid on the same cock that he once did for a film a few years back. who wonders if you feel the same stretch with suguru as you did with him. if you were forced to choose, relationships be damned, who you'd say made you cum harder.

pornstar!satoru whos dick gets impossibly harder at the thought of you not choosing at all. who lets himself picture it, you spread out for both him and pornstar!suguru, your eyes wide at the prospect of taking both of them at once. how he'd take your mouth first, how with each thrust of suguru into your pussy would push you forward onto his cock. how he'd kiss your boyfriend breathless while they're both balls-deep inside of you.

pornstar!satoru who strokes himself along to a video of you riding pornstar!suguru. who times his orgasm just right with your shared one, who goes fucking blind for a moment with the way his climax washes over him. your noises, suguru's noises, the imagined smell of sweat in the air. he moans, a dirty mixture of your name and his, something embarrassing and still he remains steadfast in his lust.

pornstar!satoru who, because he respects himself at least a little, gives himself fifteen minutes for post nut clarity to set in. and when it doesn't, he's texting his agent in the dead of night and very firmly requesting to be booked again

with both of you.

pornstar!suguru who, upon having you home from a particularly tiring shoot, is doting on you with heart-shaped pupils. He's got you laying down with him on the couch, big hands working magic on your sore muscles.

pornstar!suguru who doesn't always ask for details about your shoots. he knows it's just work, hell, he's a pornstar himself, he doesn't need the raunchy details of your jobs to keep himself from spiralling. but something about today feels different. today, you seem uncharacteristically fucked out.

pornstar!suguru who is more than surprised when you're still rearing to get fucked silly that night. you groan about your shoot with a new pornstar, and how his touch is still lingering on your mind. and suguru laughs, because jealousy doesn't come easy to him-- if anything, knowing you're still in his bed at the end of the day just gets him even more worked up.

its when pornstar!suguru bottoms out inside of you, that shared gasp of ecstasy leaving both your lips that you mention how he asked you out for drinks after the shoot. you add on, of course, that you turned him down, but the comment still has your boyfriends interest piqued.

pornstar!suguru who, with a kiss to the corner of your lips and a gentle thrust into you, asks who this admirer of yours is. and just as the names about to leave your lips, his phone chimes on the bed with an email.

an offer. a threesome shoot: him, you, and a second male. it's the best paying shoot he's gotten in a long time. he hasnt quite scrolled down to see who the other talent was, so when you snatch his phone, legs still wrapped around his waist, he catches that smile on your lips. he catches the way you clench around him.

"that's him," you speak, such pretty words from your lips as you turn the screen to show him the name and headshot of pornstar!satoru.

and pornstar!suguru's dick gets impossibly harder.

tags: @meowforluv @p1xlesk1nn @ch3rryistheg @miizuzu @okayiamkassandra

PART THREE HERE!

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ! ❞

❝ THEY TOOK YOU. SO SATORU GOJO DID THE ONLY REASONABLE THING — HE TOOK THEIR LIVES ! ❞

✧ pairing: gojo satoru x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: satoru gojo rarely loses his cool. except when it comes to you. so when you get taken and found hurt, he takes matters into his own hands to find out who did it and make them pay.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, canon compliant, feral gojo, acts of violence, reader gets kidnapped and attacked, gojo goes insane, gojo clan sucks, higher ups get asses best, yaga and Ijichi featured, dom!gojo, breeding kink, dirty talk, oral (f), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, implied multiple rounds, swearing,

✧ w/c: 8,446

The worst mistake Satoru Gojo ever made that morning was to get out of bed.

If he had just stayed in bed that morning, turned his cellphone on silent, and basked in the warmth of the soft comforter you had picked out (even as you balked at the exorbitant price) and especially in the warmth of your embrace — the one place where it felt as if it was okay to be himself, just him.

And now it was just him.

Because you were gone.

When his phone rang that morning, your lips had been against his, indulging in a lazy morning tryst because for once, Satoru had been off duty — or he was supposed to be off duty. Your gaze had been the ones to stir him from sleep, as even in the embrace of sleep he couldn’t resist you or your adoring eyes — the very same he held more precious than his own.

“I didn’t even say anything, how did you wake up?” And his lips curl at your slight frown, his fingers brushing over the curve of your cheek.

“Thought my pretty wife was admiring my beauty while I slept so I had to wake up to the same,” and he’s leaning over to press lazy kisses along your jaw.

“Did you just call yourself beautiful?” You snort, and he grins, before falling into a playful pout.

“My own wife doesn’t think her husband’s beautiful?” And you’re rolling your eyes, before rolling over on top of him, your body only covered by the black t-shirt you had stolen from him last night, a small groan as he felt your very bare thighs brush against his boxers.

You were a goddess — your smile ethereal in the sunlight streaming in from the window as you leaned over him, and he was willing to worship all his life at your altar, if you would only give him a brush of your lips.

“Of course I think you’re beautiful, I’m the one always saying that anyway,” your lips brush his chastely, far too quick and teasing, “I was just imagining what Nanami would say if he heard that,”

“Oh? And what’s that, sweetheart?”

“He would say the size of your ego is becoming a threat to Earth’s atmosphere,” and Satoru raises an eyebrow.

“And my darling wife would disagree, right?” and you look away, biting back a smile, “eh? You’d let him say such heinous things about me?”

“It’s not heinous if it’s true—“ you gasp, and he’s flipped you on your back, pressing his lips to yours to swallow your words, along with your giggles, as you break free, “Toru! Ah—“ and he nibbles at your neck, “hey!”

“You have to pay for the consequences of your actions, baby, what kind of sensei would I be?” And you’re rolling your eyes.

“I’m not your student, ngh,” you’re gasping as his teeth sinks into your neck, “if anything, I’m the one reigning you in,”

“Well then,” he chuckled in his words, as his fingers trace your jaw, “I’ll have to show you how far your student has come then,” and his lips only brush yours, when his phone rings.

“Baby,” you sigh, and he’s glancing at the phone, a sigh on his lips, as he reaches for the phone, sneaking a glance at you, before he picks up.

You press sweet kisses to his chest as you hear the faint murmur of Yaga’s voice through the phone, hearing reports of the special grades they’ve been tracking, “Old man, this is the first day off I’ve taken off in so looooong,” and he holds the phone away from his ear until Yaga’s screams fade, “fine, fine, send Ijichi,” he hangs up while Yaga was still mid-yell, tossing his phone on the bedside table with a sigh, “sweetheart,”

“I know,” you cup his cheek, his lips in a pout not made for the strongest sorcerer, but for your Satoru, “I’ll be here when you come back — waiting very impatiently,” and he chuckles, his lips finding yours.

“How’d I get so lucky to have such an understanding wife?” And your lips curl.

“You annoyed her into falling in love,” and he gapes at you as you giggle, until he’s got you pinned underneath him yet again, “what? It’s true!”

“Then I’ll have to annoy you some more, just to make sure,” and he’s finding you in another kiss, until his devilish fingers run down your sides, beginning their assault on the spots that made you laugh the most.

You pulled your lips from his, squealing, “Nooooo! Satoru, stop!” you tried to push him off from tickling you, but he was the strongest for a reason—a reason you usually were very grateful for, but not right now. And finally he relented, as you gasped and chuckled still, lips in the most adorable pout, “you’ll pay for that,”

“Oh really? How’s that, wifey?” and you kiss his lips chastely, barely a brush, as you cross your arms, fighting back a smile.

“That’s the only goodbye kiss you get,” and he gasps, clutching his chest dramatically, before that smirk of his returns, “and you try to steal one and I’m making you sleep on the couch,” And he pouts, before you press a longer kiss to his lips, “you’re lucky I love you,”

Satoru grinned, “I know.”’

Yeah, he should have never gotten out of bed.

“Where is she?” For once, Satoru’s words were devoid of humor, the laughter and happiness sapped from his very essence the moment he had heard. The moment he had felt your cursed energy waver. All this time, Satoru’s eyes had been focused on the outline of your soul, no matter where he was, because you were always the one thing he wanted to come home to — that he needed to.

“I don’t know Satoru, that’s why I had called you,” Yaga runs his fingers through his hair, “goddamnit,” he swore, scrubbing a hand down his face, “the mission came from the higher ups, they wouldn’t give me the specifics, but they said it was confidential—“

“I don’t care for the details right now, do we know anything about where she is?” Satoru keeps his words carefully measured, muscles wound taut, the only thing keeping him from using blue to destroy Jujutsu Tech in one fell swoop was the thought of you, “did she tell you anything else—“

And Ijichi bursts in, brow furrowed, “Gojo, we have a lead.”

~~~

Was this how it would end?

You knew it was in your fate to die, eventually. A wretched cycle that all of you were forced to live. An endless baton pass that always ended with the last runner dying — nothing but a pile of corpses left behind and to look back on.

And it would almost be a relief, a blessing to finally be done — if it wasn’t for Satoru.

You knew he would blame himself for this. He always blamed himself. Blamed himself when he couldn’t beat Toji. Blamed himself when he couldn’t save Riko. Blamed himself when he couldn’t save Geto. Because he was the strongest, and that meant he should be able to solve everyone’s problems — do everything no one else can do, be everywhere at once, and never fail.

Never. And yet, that’s not what the sleepless nights he spent working told you. It only told you that jujutsu would take everything from him, if he let it, and he would let it, if only that meant he could do more good.

And he was so good. Even if he didn’t see it — you could almost feel the lingering warmth of his embrace this morning, the wide grin on his lips as he peppered kisses down your neck, and the soft gaze of blues made of affection just for you — you would always see it for him.

You don’t see the curse coming, your vision blurred from the last strike. The crack of your bones barely registers in your ears, the curse presses you into the wall, claws pressed to your throat, drawing blood to run down your neck.

“Now, now, we can’t kill her, at least not yet,” a voice calls out, “we were given strict orders to wait,”

The curse’s growl reverberated across your skin, a desperate growl deep in its chest, the string of control being pulled taut, as its black nails dig deeper into your side, until it dropped you onto the ground like a rag doll.

Your body ached only for moments before it was chased away by numbness. And you could only wonder if this was how they felt? Riko, Haibara, Geto, all the others you watched die — was this the pain they felt? The ache of muscles that they could no longer feel, the sticky wetness of blood that seeped from their unknowing bodies, and the cold thst crept up from the tips of your toes.

You wanted it to stop. You wanted to stop. But each time you felt the tug of the other side, you couldn’t let go. You couldn’t. Not when Satoru needed you.

Your eyes burn with tears. And you needed him.

~~~

“Where is she?” The same question was ringing in Satoru’s head over and over since he had heard.

Candle wicks trembled with fear, casting shadows on the wall that shivered in the presence of the man before them. The papered panels was all that stood between him and these old men — the very same that played with the lives of many day in and day out. It would be far too easy to kill them all — in fact, it would barely take any effort at all with his cursed technique.

But he wouldn’t allow them the warm embrace of an instant death.

“Such insolence — how dare you enter this place and speak—“

“You ought to be thanking me,” his power sparked in the glint of his eyes, the glow of the lit wicks catching in the hard blues, “for not bashing your skulls in and ripping your hearts from your chests from the moment I entered,”

A silence swept over the room, another voice speaking, “Gojo—“

“The next words out of your mouth better be an answer because I don’t want to ask again,” his voice fills the silence in the room, only broken by the sounds of the candles crackle, “where is she?”

“We cannot disclose where—“ there’s a loud crack, the splintering of wood and the wet squelch of flesh and blood, and a cold breeze swept through the room, the candles going out.

Satoru’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of his neck, forcing the broken floorboards digging into his wrinkled skin, “I said I want an answer, do you think I would think twice about killing any of you?”

There’s a pause and the silence is only filled by the sound of gore dripping down the paper screens and hitting the floor.

“The only reason I haven’t yet was there was no point to it — no meaning,” and he could see you this morning, his lips curled for you, a strangled choking noise leaving his throat as the pads of his fingers squeezed around his neck, “but now I have every reason to, so tell me before I lose my patience,”

A silence fills the room again, until one of them speaks, “Let him go, and we’ll tell you.”

~~~

“Who do you work for?” the words come out strangled, your fingers bunching up your soaked fabric and pressing it to the gash on your stomach, “why did you bring me here?” You force yourself not to give them the satisfaction of a flinch.

“Do you really think it would be that simple to get me to reveal the reason, jujutsu sorcerer?” you hear a distant laugh, “we have our reasons, isn’t that simple enough? Or rather—”

His footsteps clapped against the floor, your head wrenched upwards, as a small yelp escapes your lips, “does it matter when you’re going to die either way?”

And you grit your teeth, before spitting on his face, half blood, half saliva, “At least I don’t have to live a life as pathetic as yours,” his fingers squeeze at your chin, your jaw aching under his grasp.

“Pathetic?” He wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt before, throwing you to the floor, body screaming in pain, but you refuse to show weakness, even as tears burn at your tear ducts, “And yet, I’m not the one bloodied and battered and two inches from death, bitch,” he scoffs, muttering, “I can see why they ordered us to kill you now, who would want someone like you around?”

“Now I’m listening, who gave you those orders?” Another voice says from behind him. The man freezes, while you lift your head, a small smile on your lips, “are you hard of hearing or just plain stupid? Well, I don’t really need to even ask that, do I?”

He was shrouded in shadow, but you didn’t need to see him to know it was him — especially as he tugged his blindfold down with two fingers, blue eyes devoid of any humor or joy, and instead only with hatred.

“Satoru Gojo,” the voice left the man’s lips slowly, but before he could react, the special grade curse that had held you was barreling towards him in a moment, before Satoru held it at bay with his infinity, the other curses following suit — how many did this curse user have in the room with him? Three? No more like five or six, but even so — you scoffed under your breath, it wouldn’t matter, “No, you idiots! Don’t—”

And in a moment, they are eviscerated — held back by his infinity, deep seeded growls and roars leaving their lips, “c’mon now, is this the best you can do? I was expecting more from those bold enough to take my wife, but I guess I expected too much,” he sighs, before he lifts one hand, “Cursed Technique Amplification, Blue,”

You barely can make out the screams from one another, the splatter of their essence raining down from above, until you hear footsteps rushing towards you, and you’re hauled to your feet, pressed against the cursed user, his hand around your neck.

“One more move, and I break her neck,” Satoru landed below with ease, his gaze raised until he met yours, and you saw it soften for you — a silent question of ‘are you okay?’ and your nod and a forced smile that told him you were okay enough.

“You can try,” his words were slow and measured, just as his steps towards you were, “but I don’t think you understand who you are dealing with,”

He tensed, fingers digging into your neck, “I know perfectly well who you are, Satoru Gojo, and I am not afraid to die by your hand for this,”

Satoru’s lips curled, “I wasn’t talking about me,”

The kidnapper’s eyes narrowed, “What?”

And you jabbed at his knee, the bone splintering under your force, but you barely hear the snap or his scream because of the blood roaring in your ears. You don’t spare a second before slamming your other hand into his head, nose breaking from your fist, blood splattering across your arm. You ready yourself for another move, before you felt him ripped away from you, a strong arm around you to steady you.

“It’s okay, I got you, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Satoru murmured, soft words meant to soothe you, as his body envelops your tense muscles, until you finally relax into his arms. Your eyes burned with tears, as you looked up at him, before your eyes slid to the kidnapper, Satoru’s hand around his throat.

“I knew you’d come for me, Toru,” you whispered, grasping onto the front of his jacket, “I knew you would,”

“I always will,” and his eyes turned to the man, voice even, “should I kill him once I’m done questioning him?”

You know he means it.

“I don’t know,” you reply, fingers curling as you pressed your face against his chest, “but I don’t want you to have blood on your hands, not for me,”

“It wouldn’t be for you. It would be for me,” he says softly, “but we can discuss it later,” and then others began to flood the scene, the sights and sounds feeling distant as your eyes drooped with exhaustion.

“Satoru, I’m—“ your voice broke, “I really tried—“

“Shh, you did great,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your head, as you finally succumbed to exhaustion, slumping over in his arms, “I’ll handle the rest.”

~~~

“You all must be wondering why I called this meeting,” Satoru said, standing at the head of the Gojo clan’s meeting room. It had been long since he had stood as the head, but far too short for his liking. He had discarded this part of his life as soon as he could, joining Jujutsu Tech without a second of hesitation, and continued to run the operations of his clan as an adult, behind the scenes.

But it seems he was too lax.

It had been a few weeks since the incident. You were asleep for a good day in and out while Shoko worked on you. She came out of your room, pulling off the surgical cap off her head, and Satoru got to his feet, as Shoko removed her gloves and mask, “She’s fine, Satoru,” and he sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“How bad was it?” he asks, and she tilts her head, hands slipping into her pockets.

“Are you asking that to know how badly she was injured or so you can do worse to whoever did this?” Satoru shrugs, lips parting and she holds up a hand, “never mind, the less I know, the better,” she grabs your file and opens it, “most of her injuries related to cursed technique burn out — it seems whoever took her used curse spirits to attack her, she mentioned when she was conscious briefly that they didn’t control the curses, but they seemed to be able to work with them somehow,”

“More intelligent curses have been appearing since Yuji became Sukuna’s vessel,” Satoru murmured, but this wasn’t related to the asparagus special grade or volcano head. It was separate — it was personal.

“But all of this to take a first grade sorcerer, why?” and he shakes his head.

“It wasn’t for her — it was for me,” and that’s why they hadn’t killed you, “is she awake?”

Shoko sighed, “She should be waking up in a bit. She didn’t need much aside from some RCT treatment and stitches for the wounds she sustained,” she places a hand on his shoulder, “go see her, and try not to murder anyone until she wakes up,” she turns to leave, heels clicking.

“Wait,” Satoru stops her, and she pauses, “I need a favor.”

~~~

Satoru never liked hospitals. He hadn’t spent much time in them for actual injuries, because of his abilities. However, he spent far too much time inside medical facilities for the Gojo clan’s required medical check-ups. It was to ensure the future head’s health, he was told, but really, it was an excuse to make sure their cash cow would still give them milk.

Because that’s all he ever was — a pawn.

But he had long shed that role, tossed it from the board, when he had left for Jujutsu Tech. But even so, he lingered outside your room, some things still stuck. Especially when he had new memories — of seeing his comrades dead bodies laid on cold metal slabs.

And would you have been another if he hadn’t made it in time?

Satoru shakes his head of his thoughts, and opens the door. You were still asleep. Tucked into the hospital bed, you looked so small somehow, fragile — two things he never saw you as. How could he have? When you were the one on his first day to greet him and then slap him when he had something pretentious or childish (neither of you remembered but you had insisted it was one or the other).

And he had never let you go after that. But now…he couldn’t even hold you.

The sharp beeps of the machine monitoring your vitals, connected by the tubes and wires that ran all over your body. He reaches for his blindfold so he can look at you, really look at you, but he can’t. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, nails digging into the soft of his palms,

But you were alive. You were alive. You were alive.

That’s what he had to tell himself as he drew closer to your side — no matter how you looked now, you were okay. And that’s what was most important.

“Are you going to brood by my bedside all day?” his gaze snaps to you, your eyes fluttering open still, still drooping and exhausted, but a soft smile on your lips, “Because hospitals are depressing enough, Toru,”

He chuckles, forcing his tears back and his voice to be event, “Sorry, sweetheart, I forgot to pull out the stops for you this time,” and his fingers find yours, lacing as they always did, but they felt so cold, “next time I’ll bring confetti, balloons, streamers, and I’ll serenade you even—”

You snort, “You may be the best at everything, but I know you’ll sing offkey on purpose just to piss off Shoko or anyone else that visits me,” and he laughs shakily, a sigh stuck in his throat.

He presses his forehead to yours, “I love you, so much, y’know that, yeah?”

“I love you too, so much, Toru,” you cup his cheeks, turning your head to press your lips to his hand, “thank you for saving me,”

“You saved yourself, I just cleaned up a little,” his lips find yours in a soft kiss, and your brow furrowed, “what? Are my kissing skills that bad?”

You roll your eyes, “No, but are you okay?” and he scoffs softly, shaking his head.

“You’re the one who got kidnapped and hurt, and you’re asking me if I’m—”

“Satoru, you asked me if you should murder that guy,” you tilted your head, “I know you’re not against killing if it’s necessary or deserved, but the way you said it, I got worried,”

“I’m fine, I just—” he cut off, “I just need to figure out who did this,” you squeeze his hand, “I have to,”

“Satoru—“

“I know you’re okay, but you don’t know how afraid I was that you wouldn’t be—“ he cuts off, “and it’s not just that,” his fingers curl around yours tighter, “it’s not just us we’ll have to worry about in the future. We’re already a family, but what will happen if someone targets you and our future kids?” He takes a shaky breath at the thought,

“I have to make an example.”

Your gaze grows sad, pressing a kiss to his lips, if only to ground him for a moment, “I know,” but you frown all the same, “but promise me, you won’t do anything stupid, ok?”

But he was far from stupid — but the people before him were as close as anyone could get.

“You all are aware of my wife’s attack a few weeks ago,” he said in measured words, swallowing the lump in his throat, “I’m here to tell you that she has succumbed to her wounds,” his voice wavered, breaking, “she’s gone,”

There were whispers and murmurs that swept over the room, all were silenced by the lift of a hand — one of the Gojo Clan elders, the geezer leader as he liked to call him.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Satoru,” he said, lips twisted in a fake frown, “we heard that your beloved wife passed from her injuries a week ago,”

“And yet, I see you’ve brought someone for me to meet,” his eyes slide to the woman dressed for a wedding rather than a meeting, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

The woman’s painted lips kept in a neutral expression, her body so rigid he could have mistaken her as a statue if not for his six eyes, and her eyes refused to meet his.

“Satoru, I understand you are mourning, but we have to think of the future of the Gojo clan, and our future place in the Jujutsu world is only as secure as the next heir—“

“And so you thought to disrespect my wife by trying to marry your choice?” but their brows furrow as he begins to laugh, one that sends shivers down their backs.

The elders all gape at him, sharing looks, before turning back to him as his laughter finally settles into a quiet chuckle, “Satoru, what is this?”

“It’s funny that you ever thought I’d fall for this bullshit,” he pulls off his sunglasses, cerulean eyes gleaming in the low light, “did you know my wife was never supposed to be sent on this mission? Or rather, there were no reports of cursed spirits in the area, but yet, orders came for her to report to where she was,”

A hush falls over the group, “And why are you telling us this?”

“Because I think you all have forgotten your place,” in a blink, he’s grasping the neck of the elder, the very same man who had taken him away from his parents at the age of two to ensure his training was done properly, “I am the strongest, not the Gojo clan. I’m the only Gojo needed for the clan to be prosperous,”

“You insolent child—“ Satoru squeezes around his neck, gasps and whimpers clawing their way out from his grip, veins bulging as he tried and failed to pull Satoru’s hands off. He had even let the old man penetrate his infinity and all he had managed was a scratch or two.

“You should be careful when you’re talking to the ‘child’ who has your life in his hands,” and he grows silent, “now, to get back to the point, where did those orders come from?”

A quiet washed over the room, the only sounds were the shaky gasps of the elder in his hand, “W-what are—“

“I had a chat with the higher ups — those rotten old geezers may not like me, but I know they like all their limbs intact,” he drops the elder and twists his arm behind his back, wrenching back until he heard a cracking noise, “and they told me the orders came from the Gojo clan, and I wondered why would my own clan send the wife of the head off to be executed,”

“Satoru—“ one of the elders spoke, and he tilted his head.

“If you want him to die, your excuses will only make this go faster,” and his mouth shuts, “I’ll take your silence as a confirmation that all of you had a hand in this,” he sighs, removing his sunglasses, running his fingers through his hair, “man, I’ve had conspiracies against me, but I never guessed you’d target the one person I value above everything else. But I knew you would fail her little test,”

He’s met with furrowed brows and gritted teeth, the elder looking up at him in fear, “W-what?”

“You see if I had it my way, I would have killed you all, no questions asked,” his fingers close over the top of his head, wrenching him backwards to meet his gaze, “But my wife, my very much alive wife,” he adds, with a glance to the woman looking increasingly faint with each second that passes, “she would want me to see if you’d come clean about the plan and whether some of you were innocent,” his lips curl, “but she doesn’t know the bloody history of the Gojo clan like we do,” and his fingers dig into the flesh of the elder, “so what’s a few more bloodstains?”

He tears off his head, screams ringing out as a rush of scarlet paints the walls, splattering across the other elders. The woman offered to be his wife rings over the others, her shrill shriek piercing their eardrums. It’s a dull thud as the lifeless corpse falls to the floor, as Satoru wiped the blood from his cheek, a cock of his head and eyes flashing with anger.

“You can’t do this! You—“ Satoru’s fist connects with his face, blood flooding his features.

“I can, because I’ve decided the Gojo clan needs to get rid of the tumors that infect it, and besides,” his body crumples to the floor as his foot slams into their stomach, a sick, wet noise that draws gasps and open mouthed silent screams from the others, “what are you going to do about it?”

“Please, please, she’s alive—” one of them begged, all of them falling to their knees, wrinkled faces contorted in fear, blown out eyes and faces wet with tears only making them more ugly than he thought was possible — he really couldn’t end up like these geezers, “we only wanted what was best—we wanted the next head of the clan to be even more powerful than you are—”

He laughs, not an ounce of mirth or levity, shivers running down the spines of the others who watched, as he stepped over the body of the elder, lips twisted into a wide grin, “And there’s your mistake,”

He loomed over the one who spoke, shadow cast over him, as his fingers curled around his arm, before breaking it off, spurts of blood splattering on his clothes, mixing with the other — some of it flecked across his face.

Satoru wiped his face with his forearm, tilting his head. He knew they were begging and pleading — lips moving, words forming, but it all fell on deaf ears. After all they had never bothered to listen to any sorcerer before, did they? Suguru’s face came to mind — flashes of the spring he would never get back — so why should he listen to theirs?

“You were too busy worrying about the next head, when you should’ve been worried about the current one.”

~~~~

You were asleep.

Moonlight gave way to your features in the pitch black room, your soft breaths warming his fingers that ran over your cheek. Shoko had discharged you yesterday, and he had brought you home — but even now with you home, he couldn’t sleep. It felt as if you’d disappear the moment he took his eyes off you, slipping from his grasp just as you almost did.

But you didn’t. You’re here.

It was the same words you had whispered to him every night when he had curled up beside you, “I’m not going anywhere, I’m here, aren’t I?”

But you could disappear.

You could if he wasn’t there with you — if he wasn’t fast enough. Because he couldn’t be everywhere at once, not even the strongest could accomplish that. But he wanted to keep you safe all the same. Would it be selfish to lock you up? Hide you away somewhere others could never find you? Keep you hidden if only to keep you safe.

But you never would be safe, not while you were with him.

“Toru?” Your voice breaks him from his thoughts, eyes fluttering open to meet his as your fingers reach for his cheek, “is that blood?”

And he’s pinned your hands in a blink of an eye, quickly and quietly, “it’s not mine,” his gaze glows in the dark, catching the moonlight streaming in, and he’s leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Toru, what happened?” And he kisses along your cheekbones, your jaw, your nose, your chin, “Satoru—“

“I killed them,” his fingers trace the folds of the satin robe he had helped you into, brushing against the bandages that hid your wounds from his sight, but he could see them all the same, “the people who did this,”

Your brow furrows, “Toru, what do you mean the people who—“

“Why do you stay with me?” He leans down to find your lips in a bruising kiss, lips sliding against yours as his fingers undo the knot of your robe, letting the fabric fall away from your bare body.

“What—“ his lips part from yours, strings of spit connecting your mouths.

“Why do you stay with me when I’m a monster?” and your eyes soften.

“You’re not—“ and he’s cutting you off with another kiss, as your hands struggle under his grip, the other grazing down your side, finding the swell of your hip only to squeeze.

“I’m the perfect weapon,” he kisses down the side of your neck, teeth grazing against your soft flesh harshly, drawing a gasp from your lips, “I could have killed them all, because I know they all knew—“

“Knew what?”

“My clan elders — they wanted to have you die on a mission, they wanted to stage it, so they could have me marry who they wanted,” he pauses, drawing a finger down the valley of your breasts, “create a perfect heir,”

“Satoru—“

He kisses you again, swallowing your words along with your thoughts, parting only to speak, “so I killed them, I didn’t use my cursed technique, I wanted them to feel the pain they gave you, wanted them to feel a fraction of what you did,”

You can’t find a second to speak, his fingers now sliding up your bare leg, as he presses himself closer, erection against your inner thigh, “Toru, you didn’t have to put yourself through that—“

“I wanted to,” he parts your thighs easily, large palm spread against your inner thigh, fingers toying with the edge of your panties, “wanted to tear them to shreds for what they did to you — and what they wanted to do—”

“I’m okay, Satoru, I’m—” a bitter laugh leaves his throat, as his fingers find your bandages again.

“Do you call coming home half dead okay now by jujutsu sorcerer standards?” he shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair, “I told you after Suguru that I would fix this rotten jujutsu world,” he presses kisses up your thigh, “and their deaths did fix one thing — no sorcerer will touch you or our future children again, especially when they speak to the woman the clan wanted to marry off to when your body wasn’t even cold yet,”

“You left her,” and he nods, eyes unable to meet yours.

“I only killed the elders I gathered, anyone else was spared — they didn’t dig their own graves,” his hand loosens around your wrists and you reach for his cheek, cupping his cheek, despite the blood, “I don’t regret it, I’d kill anyone who hurts you, but I didn’t want you to see me like this,”

“Like what?”

“Like a monster,” and you click your tongue, his eyes flitting to yours.

“You’re my Satoru, not a monster, you did what you did to protect me, protect our family,” you murmur, “that’s just about the most Satoru thing you could do,”

“But—“

“And if you are deemed a monster anyway?” You lean up, fingers smearing the blood against your own cheek, “then I’ll just become a monster with you,”

He crashes into you with a kiss, cupping your cheeks, as his tongue slips into your mouth, “can you really be a monster, sweetheart?”

He drags his lips down your neck, his teeth grazing your soft flesh along the hollow of your throat, “T-Toru—“ and his lips find the swell of your breasts, his tongue dragging over your pert nipple, while his fingers hook into the elastic of your panties, snapping it against your skin, “y’know I can be, I would be, for you,”

He peers up through half lidded eyelids, his thumb drags down your puffy bottom lip, “I can’t imagine someone so sweet like you as one,” he murmurs, as he pulls back, lips slick with spit, as he drags his fingers toying with the soaked fabric of your panties, “and I wouldn’t want to drag you down with me,”

Your fingers reach forward, propping yourself up on your other arm, “Drag me or not,” you cup his chin, “you’re stuck with me,”

“Can we make it a binding vow?” you roll your eyes, and his lips curl for the first time since he’s got here, “c’mon sweets, I have to get my reassurance somehow,”

You hold up the giant rock on your finger, the very diamond you had told Satoru was too much, “this wasn’t enough—” the last word is a bite back gasp, as he noses at the drenched crotch of your underwear, a deep inhale that has you squirming, “No, Toru—” but he’s pinned your thighs down, prying them open, as he gazes up at you.

“Uh-uh, princess, I don’t remember saying you could move, especially when you could reopen your wounds,” his nose bumps against your clothed clit, a wicked smile as he drags his tongue over the already wet fabric, “you still haven’t seen how much of a monster I can be.”

~~~

“Ngh, Toru, can’t, I can’t—” but you can — you know you can from the heat building in your sloppy cunt under already soaked through sheets, and he knows too well you can too, from the way your pussy flutters around his three fingers, knuckle deep as they piston in and out, while his mouth toys with your abused clit, “please—”

You lost track of how many times you had orgasmed — his fingers, his mouth, and sometimes both — he had pulled each one after the other, allowing small reprieves, only to bury himself back in. He had even had you ride his face at one point, and you were sure he’d suffocate under your drenched cunt, until he flipped you on your back again.

“Please what, sweets?” he slows his fingers, curling them a certain way that makes your lips fall open, “you’ll have to use your words,” he pulls back.

Chest heaving, chin glistening with your release, his tongue cleaned his lips off before he wiped the rest off, before pressing open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs. And soon enough, his fingers were sinking back into your messy pussy, splitting you open with his thick fingers.

“Didn’t you say you wanted this, sweetheart?” his words cut through the wet squelch of his digits fucking you open, “wanted to drag you down with you, wanted this—” and he sucks hard at your clit, tongue flicking over it, making your back arch, “wanted me to drag you down with me,” and he punctuates it with a thrust of his fingers, brushing against a spot that has you seeing spots, “gotta make good on your promise, and I have to erase all the pain they gave you,”

And you barely manage to latch onto the desperation in his voice, the way the facade flickers.

He fucks you ever so slightly deeper, and you cum hard, tearing through you as your body tenses, pleasure washing over you as it did every single other time, melding into the others, “Good girl,” he murmurs, as he works his fingers through your orgasm, the slick noises becoming white noise, until he finally pulls the digits from inside you.

Your eyes flutter open to the sight of him licking his digits clean one by one of your cum, his lips curled in a soft smile as they meet your gaze, his hand sliding up your thigh gently as it quaked, the very same fingers he had used to murder the people that hurt you, were so gentle when it was you — he was always so gentle when it was you.

But never himself.

You reach up for him, palm cupping his cheek, while the other finds his bare shoulder — clothes long discarded, “I love you,” and the cracks spread, spider webbing from the epicenter, “you know that right?”

His words seem caught in the back of his throat, “Even now?”

“Especially now,” and he’s pressing you against the mattress again, your thighs folded against your chest, legs slung over his shoulders, “you saved me,”

His gaze softened, “you saved me first,” and again and again, he couldn’t count the number of times you did, by just existing, pressing a kiss to the side of your thigh, “but if I’m too late next time?”

“You can’t be everywhere,” your fingers lace with his, “and I just need you,” and still in this situation, his ego can inflate at your praise — nosing at your thigh, a deep inhale, before dragging his tongue up the side of your leg, “only you.”

He drags his weeping erection over your soaked folds, leaking tip teasing your slit while he watched his pre mix with yours, “Think you need more than just me,” and when he lets the tip sink into you, your lips part with his name, just as your walls part for him, “want something else, wifey?”

“You’re the worst,” you look up at him, lips curling despite your pout, your fingers grasping at the sheets under you, as your cunt tries to swallow him whole, “Toru, how long are you going to tease me for?”

And he’s pulling out only to draw a groan from your lips, “If you’re such a monster, thought you could take it—“ and your hand reaches for him, tugging him close by his neck.

“I swear to god, if you don’t fuck me right now—“

He grins, “If you insist,”

Fuck.

He sinks into you all at once, all too fast and all too slow, balls deep as he bottoms out inside you, your walls fluttering only to pull him deeper, “fuck,” your head falls back as his tip brushes against your cervix, “too fucking big, I swear if you rip my stitches open—”

“You don’t think I cleared this before I decided to do this, baby?” He grunts, glancing down to see how your messy hole stretched open as he sunk into you, “can’t believe anyone thought I’d fuck anyone but you — you’re the only one for me, sweetheart,”

You couldn’t help but notice his eyes flicker to your pussy stuffed full with his huge dick, “You talking to me or my cunt—“ and he begins to fuck you, remark undercut by the moan that he pulled from your lips, “f-fucker—“

“That’s exactly what you wanted, isn’t it sweetheart?” the lewd sounds of skin slapping together filled the room, his soft grunts and your moans, “wanted me to fuck you open, yeah?” and he wanted this, needed this after this week — it had been too long since he felt you under him like this — real and alive, his name leaving your swollen, kiss bitten lips.

And you needed it just the same — needed his fingers to dig into the softness of your thighs, needed the way only he could fill every inch of you, needed the soft murmurs of how good you felt, how much he loved you.

“Fuck, Toru, so fast,” you whine, but how could slow down he when you felt so good — so wet and warm, you had joked he could cum just looking at you alone barely a fist around his dick, but it was true — and being inside you just made him unravel completely, all sense of himself lost and drowning in just you, “hngh, it’s so deep,” you babble, tears burning at the corners of your eyes.

“That’s right, sweetheart, gonna fuck you deep, gotta make sure you feel it don’t I?” he coos, and his hand snakes between your thighs, pressing his palm to the bulge in your stomach, making you gasp as your walls clench around him, drawing a grunt from his lips, “that’s it, good girl,”

You keen at his praise, the wet squelch of your cunt around his cock ringing in your ears, balls slapping against your pussy with a rhythm that echoes in your head, as your body arches into him, needing him deeper, harder, faster. He’s nearly rutting into you, his thrusts growing shallow as you clamp down on him, achingly close.

“Those old fucking geezers don’t know what they were talking about—“ he grunts, running his mouth all the same even as he sunk impossibly fucking deeper, “don’t know this is the only cunt I’d ever breed. The only one I’d ever breed. The only one I can. Know why?” And you only can whimper, as his fingers rub against your clit, “because this is the only one made for my cum,”

And his words push you over the edge, cumming hard and fast, head lolling back, as his tip bullies your womb, as he fucks you hard over and over through your orgasm, sending pleasure ripping up your spine. Satoru groans as he feels you spasm, soaking in him in your juices, as he watches a white ring of your cum form around the base of his dick, dripping onto the clean sheets with the evidence of your arousal.

He can’t hold back.

He rails into you, a moan of your name falling past your lips making you pull him close, shifting your legs around his back just so he can sink into you even a centimeter deeper—

“Fuck, g’nna cum,” he’s meeting your glazed over eyes, knowing “gonna fill you up, yeah? Get you nice and round with my baby,” he groans at the thought, the image of you carrying his kid, stomach swollen as you grow his child, “and they’ll know, all of them, that you’re the only one I’d cum in,” and he’s so close, dick twitching as your arms around his neck tug him close.

“Cum in me, Toru, give me our baby,” and that’s it, he’s spilling inside you, spurting his hot release inside, again and again, as he fucks it deeper, filling you up.

“That’s it, take every drop,” he’s relentless, until he finally eases from you, his release trickling out. A soft sigh parts your lips that grows into a sharp gasp as he’s already flipping you over onto your stomach.

“Toru—” you whine.

“Aw did you think we were done sweetheart?” a pillow cushions your still bandaged stomach, placed underneath to support you, a shudder down your body as he rubs his cock against you, as he leans down, hot words murmured against your ear with a grin, before he sinks back into you with one thrust, stuffing his spilling cum back inside, “One thing about monsters are that we also have monstrous stamina.”

~~~

It was early, but Satoru was already awake.

He always had trouble sleeping, but now? His eyes found your sleeping form beside him, under the covers and safe, just as he had left you that morning. He didn’t know if he’d ever sleep more than three hours now. He brushed the back of his knuckles over your cheek, but you needed sleep — one of three things you never could live without (food and himself being the other two). And you definitely needed it now, after he had kept you up — nearly all night.

You shifted in your sleep, revealing several blooming hickies and love bites he had littered your body with, lips curling at the sight, as he pulled the blanket back up around you.

He was selfish — he should have divorced you the moment he had gotten you back. Let you leave because it was the right thing to do — to let you live a life safe without him. But he couldn’t — because he couldn’t imagine waking another morning, spending another day without knowing where you were, how you were doing.

It was selfish. But you let him be — especially when it came to you.

And his phone vibrates on the nightstand, whirring again and again, as he picks it up with a sigh, Yaga’s name flashing on the display. He takes one last glance at you before slipping from bed, stepping into the living room.

“Sensei! To what—“ he hardly gets a word out before screams fill his ears. He rubs his chin, it was too early for this.

He makes out the words — Gojo clan, dead, scandal, murder (wasn’t sure if he meant if he was going to murder Gojo or he meant what happened to the elders).

“It was a clan dispute, there was no need to tell you,”

Satoru held the phone away from his ear, Yaga’s yelling told him everything he needed to know, “Yeah, yeah, I know, the higher ups know — or they probably do by now,” he almost chuckles at the thought, and how he would love to do the same to them — knuckles white as he grips his phone — love to make them feel the same pain the sorcerers cared nothing for felt, make them—

Arms curl around him from behind and he knows it’s you, his body relaxing into your touch with practiced ease, your face buried in his back. His fingers relax, finding yours, tracing over the back, as he lifts one hand to his lips.

—But it wasn’t the time for that.

“Fine, fine, no need to have a heart attack, old man — I’ll talk to them tomorrow,” Yaga was still speaking until Satoru hung up, turning to face yoy, your eyes half closed as his fingers found your cheek, “what are you doing awake, sweets?”

His lips curl as you lean into his touch, “you weren’t next to me when I woke up,” you murmur, nose brushing against his fingers as your eyes flutter open and closed, “how am I supposed to sleep when my pretty husband isn’t next to me?”

“Just pretty?” and you snort, as his arm sneaks around your waist, pulling you to his chest, your head right over his heart, a content sigh on your lips.

“Are you ever serious?”

“Always,” and you smile up at him, chin resting against him, “what is it? Do I got something on my face?”

“You think our baby will have your pretty face?” You hum, and his gaze softens at the thought, “I hope so,”

He grins, “You do huh? And here I thought my ego didn’t need more stroking,”

“It doesn’t, but my husband deserves every bit of praise he gets — because he doesn’t get enough,” you kiss him softly, nose bumping against his.

“You planning on showering me with your praise, sweetheart?” And your lips finds his again.

“Always,” and he’s leading you back towards the bedroom, “where are you—“ you squeal as he scoops you up into his arms and carries you back to bed, gently placing you down, a grin on his lips.

He drags his thumb down your kiss ruined lips, “Do you think I’m gonna let you leave this bed without breeding you right?” He clicks his tongue, “I’m far from done with you, wifey,”

You’re so beautiful, hair spread on the pillow like a halo, “So we’re not leaving until I’m pregnant?” Your fingers brush against his cheek, “we might be here a while,”

Satoru wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

He kisses you again, long and languid, “There’s nothing I want more than to stay in bed with you.”

✧ a/n: sorry i've been gone for a bit!! i got super busy with work and got hella writer's block and right when i was feeling ready to write-- i got sick. but i'm doing much better now!!

✧ taglist: @arrivedercis, @ssetsuka, @ch3rryistheg, @satorusmochis, @sunarins-bae, @blindbabycadder , @yihona-san06 , @dantaku , @archieballs , @ceruleansol , @mqcht , @xxemmarldxx , @chiyokoemilia , @theshylittleelfgirl , @rroseselavyyy , @out4thenight , @jatyes , @unreliablefangs , @sleazymac-n-cheesy , @celestialseasart , @minsified , @akemfs , @ranatherealestsigma , @zherryxtar , @virtualangelllllll , @itsmebien , @difluenza , @rougebrainsludge , @mochigod , @euphorism , @vii-is-free , @elliesndg , @beneaththelamina , @monarch-of-anime-simping , @hhimetsu , @simply-a-s1mp , @jennieclips , @svt-backup , @angelbunsx , @duhhitsmiranda , @satowooo , @fushitoru , @lesaurita , @briluvslee , @gojo-gets-me-wetter , @catsgomurp , @pinkyvomit , @hyori2 , @wakashudou , @celestialgojo , @sxnkuna, @nakariabnrb, @dazailover1900, @hanlay, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @kxouri, @forest-fruits-jam, @spider-fan72, @strawmariee

[moechies]

imagine best friend yuuji asking you to teach him how to eat pussy

“y-yuuji! you can’t jus’ lick me like that!”

“why not? how can i know how to do it if i don’t try it out?”

the blush on your face becomes more evident, your hand on his forehead as an attempt to push him away.

“fuc- fine, just- you have to listen okay? don’t lick me randomly!”

he nods his head, smiling out an “mhm!” with his face laid on your propped up thigh. fuck, you hate to admit it, but seeing such an innocent man, your best friend between your thighs took a bigger toll on you than you would’ve thought. you can’t exactly tell if your churning stomach is from the pleasure that he has brought upon you, or the possibility that you may have feelings for your best friend.

you reach down with two fingers to your cunt, pressing on your sensitive bud,

“h-here, this is the clit. pay a-attention to it.. because ‘s really s-sensitive, ‘nd it feels good..”

he stares down so intently, it makes you feel nervous.

“mkay!”

is all he says with a stupid grin, and before you have a chance to move your fingers, you feel his tongue pressed against your clit. he begins to circle the bud, lightly sucking it. he feels your body shiver, eliciting a gasp from you at the same time?

“s so sweet.. you’re so sweet..”

he doesn’t stop when he speaks. instead, he continues to lap at your cunt, his face evidently beginning to get wet from the mix of your slick and his saliva.

“y-yuuji! s-slow down..! ‘m gon-gonna cum too quick if you keep going..!”

but no, he doesn’t slow down, and he doesn’t stop. instead you feel his tongue slip into your cunt, sneakily bringing his hand up to your clit rubbing it softly.

“yuuji m c-cummin’!”

fuck he’s in heaven. he perks his head up from your cunt, his grinding on the surface of your bed begins to slow. he pants with a smile on his face, using the back of his hand to wipe some of your spilt cum off his face, just to lick it back up.

he loves your fucked out face, you’re so cute. you’re panting just as hard as him, hands planted on both sides of yourself to hold yourself steady after your orgasm.

“did i do goo-“

“y-yuuji! this isn’t your first time!”

you lightly backhand his head back and forth, causing his head to twist left and right a couple times before he catches your hand with his,

“of course it is!”

“no it not!”

“yes it is!”