✎ all of me
- gojo satoru x reader
you understand that some things in marriage just needs compromise. and he soon understands too, when you're at your most vulnerable and he fails to be by your side when you need him the most
genre:
angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship (you're married & have a son!) argument, feral gojo, mentions of injury & blood, fluff
note:
if it isn't obvious by now i'm in the mood of angst-hurt/comfort this week HEHE :)) this is longer than the usual love entry, so i hope you'll enjoy it!
a part of gojo's love entries
general masterlist
Bantering with your husband is not uncommon―in fact, it happens on daily basis.
"Satoru― I'm talking to you!"
But having serious arguments with him is another matter entirely.
Your fists tightening at your sides, facing his unamused expression. How insufferable is he? You told him that everyday, but right now, he's truly surpassed previous levels of infuriating behavior.
"And I can hear you, sweetheart," he retorted, casting a glance your way. The term of endearment he used for you sounding almost like a sneer to your ears and you felt offended.
"I don't think you're taking this seriously," you griped, trying to calm your emotions, still balling your hands. "Someone is following our son on his way back from school―how can you be this... flippant?!"
Numerous photograph of your son exiting the school building from different angles had arrived in your mailbox, and if it wasn't a creepy warning from those who placed a target on his back, then you didn't know what it was.
Satoru let out an exasperated grunt. "I'm telling you, I'll pick him up for the rest of the week. No one will lay a hand on him."
You gritted your teeth. "And I'm telling you, they're trying to make you do just that. Even morons know not to mess with you― they're leaving hints, and you're taking the bait!"
Contrary to what you believed, Satoru felt just as worried as you upon knowing that someone might have marked his precious son, who was now six years old and had recently started attending preschool.
But this is where your approaches differ. You are always the cautious one, overanalyzing each detail, while he leans towards being impulsive, often resorting to brute force.
"Who do you think can stand a chance against me?" Satoru challenged with a real sneer this time. "Remember my words, wife, no one is going to hurt me, you or our baby. I'll end them where they stand."
"That's not the point!" you threw your hands in the air, irate. "Satoru, they're going to take advantage of―"
"Look, I don't want to argue with you." Satoru's gaze was hard on you, his tone clipped, and it made you stiffen. "His safety comes first— and you, of all people, should know I'd never let anything happen to him. You need to quit nitpicking and have a little faith in me."
"I know you are more than capable, but you are not―!"
And then he said it, and his words piercing through you like a knife―
"Don't compare me to you," your husband remarked a little too coldly. "I can do things you can't. Just rest your pretty head, I'll take care of the rest."
Nevermind that he blatantly dismissed your skills as a jujutsu sorcerer, nevermind that he totally didn't listen to you at all―he just went and made himself look like some sort unparalleled god, forgetting how much his hubris could actually take him.
And all these thoughts only made you angrier.
"So be it then." You tried desperately to hold yourself from shaking because you'd be damned if you showed it to him. "A word of advice, Satoru: beware of your arrogance."
With those words, you spun around, marching off toward your son's room, because no way in hell was you going to sleep with that obnoxious prick tonight.
But when you caught the sight of your baby scuttling away from the gap in the door, a fragment of your heart crumbled. Oh. He has seen it all.
In Gojo Satoru's mind, he is made of two things: a powerful jujutsu sorcerer and a family man.
With his immense strength, comes a certain responsibility. And with that responsibility, certain habits have formed. If you just took a few seconds to breathe and looked back throughout the past decade he'd spent with you, you'd know that in fact―
It was also his way to shield you. Satoru stands by the principle that you and his little boy must be protected at all cost, and he most certainly would pull all stops to do just that.
But frankly, he couldn't deny that he felt insulted by how defiant you were. Did you really think he would let anyone ever touch your―his―son? He wouldn't, they'd meet his wrath first and you should've known that.
Still, something akin to guilt nudged at his conscience as he lay alone in your shared bed that night. It felt strange not having you cuddling him. He felt empty.
. . .
None of your shampoo-scented pillow, none of your nightdresses, all of it replaced by a single photo hanging in the wall and the urn of ashes—
Abruptly, he jerked his eyes open, shaken from the most dreadful nightmare he had experienced—
Of you no longer by his side.
“Mama.” Your little boy looked up to you with his doe-blue eyes in the next day, his hand gripping yours. “I’ll be fine.”
You were accompanying him to the preschool. While Satoru had requested Ichiji to drive him, you insisted on tagging along to keep a watchful eye as well. You'd leave your husband to pick him up later just as he wanted.
“Huh?” you turned to him, tilting your head.
“I'll stick by Uncle Ichiji's side the entire time,” he replied in a murmur. “And papa will be picking me up too later. If there are bad guys, they'll get him first.”
You bit your lip, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. Your boy witnessed your outburst last night and hadn't inquired about it until now, and even then, he was trying to reassure you.
“So… don’t fight.” His round, cerulean eyes then darted towards you, blinking hesitantly, causing you to catch your breath.
He looks so much like Satoru. At six years old, he was the spitting image of him, except his personality—he took after you in that area. It was as if your son was a softer, more innocent version of him. And your heart twisted, remembering your argument last night.
Don't compare me to you.
With a sigh, you bent down to be eye-level with him and managed a smile, holding both of his little hands. “I’m sorry… it was just misunderstanding last night, okay? Don’t worry.”
“…really?”
“Really. Mama and papa were just tired,” you tried to reason, a thin smile on your face. "It's going to be okay, just like you said, yeah? Papa will beat the bad guys out there."
“Will he pull through...? If they bring a knife, and he's just there laughing, they can cut him.”
A giggle escaped your lips at your baby's innocent wonderings, easing the ache in your heart as you recalled how Satoru humored him in so many ways.
You gently poked your son in the cheek. "Nah, do you remember what he always goes on about?"
He puffed up his cheeks in response, his expression turning sour as if combing through memories of hundreds of shenanigans Satoru had instigated to recall his words. You let out a hearty chuckle, finding him so adorable.
"He's strong, he's going to win. He always does."
"Oh. Mmm." Your son scrunched up his nose cutely, before looking away and squeezing your hand. A sincerer smile bloomed in your lips, heart melting at the sight of your growing munchkin.
You will protect him. And maybe you could patch things up with Satoru later that night. Maybe yesterday you were just too paranoid.
That was the plan... at least until your son suddenly screamed—someone wrenching him from your grasp. Without a second thought, you reacted, flipping the attacker away from you and him.
. . . and that was the beginning of how everything started to unravel so terribly that day.
"Gojo-san...! There's been an incident!"
He got that call right after he finished some things with Yaga. Satoru teleported to the preschool right away, only to be greeted by a scene of utter chaos.
Several teachers stood outside the building, and police officers were present at the scene. It was all a blur of cursed energy until his eyes caught sight of—
His little boy, red-faced and obviously in fear, was clinging to Ichiji, who was frantically making calls. Some teachers gathered around him were seemingly trying to coax him to speak.
He didn't waste a second to dash towards him, tearing through the crowd.
"Are you okay? Hey, buddy, what happened?" Satoru pulled him away from Ichiji and turned him over, crouching to his level to check for any signs of injury or harm.
And upon seeing him actually here, his son's eyes immediately welled up with tears, and Satoru felt a chill run through his veins as he broke into sobs, which quickly turned into heart-wrenching wails.
"Mama—! F-find mama—!" the little boy choked out through his tears, clutching onto his shirt tightly and crumbling in his embrace, thoroughly inconsolable.
Satoru's sharp gaze quickly swept over the scene, seeking any clues, while he tightened his hold over him. It was then he noticed traces of your cursed energy mingled with blood.
They hurt you.
"Hey, kiddo—listen to me, it's going to be alright, yeah?" Satoru said, gently pulling away to wipe away his tears, holding the boy's face tenderly in his hands. "Go with Ichiji for now, okay? I'm going to bring mama back, I promise."
He didn't need to be told twice. Your son is always obedient when it matters the most. He gave him a small nod, still shaking with tears.
"Don't worry," he flashed a reassuring smile and ruffled his hair. "I'm the strongest, remember? I'll get her back," he vowed once again. "She'll be fine. Wait for me until then, yeah?"
Ichiji was ready to leave as he had called for those in headquarters as backup in case anything were to happen again. Trusting him to keep his son safe, Satoru took off as soon as he could no longer see the sight of his son's tear-streaked face trying to watch him as the car pulled away.
"I won't repeat myself— where is my wife?"
Satoru wasn't playing this time. He skipped past taunts and just plain threats. These little fries, he thought.
The man he held by the throat was in a lot of distress. "Hyaaa! It's him! Please, please, let me go! I'm acting under orders!"
He then flung him across the wall— might have added more cursed energy than necessary.
At the moment, his entire focus was on trying to locate you. He couldn't let his mind wander to anything else; in fact, he didn't permit himself to.
It didn't take him long to piece together the general location of where you were through the residual of your cursed energy. They stationed several hooligans in this abandoned warehouse to stall him, but he got rid of them quickly and he could sense that you were close by.
"It's Gojo Satoru!"
"Run! Ruuuun!"
What a pain. They picked the wrong person to mess with, and Satoru's lips curled into a manic grin as he opened his palm, pulling them in—
"Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue."
Chaos erupted as the building collapsed around him. He hoped you would realize he was here and manage to avoid getting caught in the wreckage. He was sure you'd know though.
And true to his thoughts, soon he found you— blasting your attacker away with a powerful kick.
Satoru thought that you were a sight to behold, really. And he was about to call out to you when he felt it.
It happened almost in an instant. The way his heart dropped to his stomach, and how his body reacted, barely whispering the incantation for Red as he shot it at something lurking behind you—
At that moment, the only thing you were aware of was the foul stench of a curse. Time seemed to stop before the overwhelming force of Red expelled it away from you.
But before then, you experienced a searing, white-hot pain that scorched through your flesh and pierced your abdomen—
"Y/N―fuck―!" The voice that came from Satoru's throat was raw and laden with panic.
He pulled you against him protectively as you collapsed, blinded by pain. He immediately felt warmth spreading across his lower body—your blood was rapidly drenching his shirt, and he felt a shiver down his spine.
You held onto him tightly while suppressing your scream, feeling every bit of your strength drain away along with the dark crimson blood that poured out of you.
"―toru―" you managed to croak amidst the scalding pain, curling and whimpering in his hold.
"Hey― sweetheart, please―" his voice rang in your ears, as he pressed down on your wound. His hands were shaking, and you clawed at him and groaned in agony. "I-I'm taking you back now― You're going to be alright, yeah?"
The wound was beyond anything you had experienced before, causing you to cry out and gasp for air. It was almost as if something fried your insides. It was hard to stay conscious.
"I've got you now. You're going to be okay." His voice was coarse, as he hurriedly carried you out. And he tried not to let the full-blown panic take over him when your body went limp in his arms, your breaths slowing, head lolling in his chest.
"You're going to be alright! You hear me, sweetheart? You're going to make it. Our baby― he's waiting for you. I promise you, you're going to be fine―"
Perhaps he was trying to tell that to himself, because despite the excruciating pain, a wave of reassurance washed over you.
You were in the arms of the strongest sorcerer alive, what more could you possibly afraid of?
A special grade curse. They had actually unleashed a potent curse and likely aimed at him as their final card—until it veered off course and struck you, leaving a searing gash across your abdomen.
Satoru felt numb as he sat in the waiting room in his bloodied uniform. You got hurt so terribly right in front of his eyes, and all he could feel was this profound void that seemed to bore through him and pierced his soul.
He was supposed to protect you. He said it to your face that nothing and no one would touch your son, and it was in his wedding vows that he'd protect you with his life too.
And yet what happened?
If only he was faster. If only he was able to pull you to him and protect you with his infinity—none of this shit would have happened.
Seeing your face twisted in agony and smeared with blood made him feel sick to his stomach. Inside that OR, you hovered on the brink of life and death, and he was here, unable to do anything.
Satoru rested his head against the wall, feeling a sharp pain surge through his chest. He remembered waking up to your face every morning, the way your touches felt, and how you had brightened his world for the past decade. If he lost you now... he wouldn't survive it. He would wreck anything, everything—
"Papa!" and came his voice of reason. Satoru immediately discarded his bloodstained jacket by instinct, throwing it away before his boy could see it, with Ichiji and Megumi closely trailing behind.
His son crashed himself into him and threw his little arms around his torso, crying—and in that very second, the thump of his heart sounded louder in his ears. Somehow it felt like a knife that twisted his insides.
"Hey, kiddo." Satoru repositioned him so that he would sit on his lap and hugged him, patting him in the back. "There, there... it's alright, yeah? Mama is inside, she'll get better soon."
Your little boy pulled away and wiped his eyes, and Satoru chuckled as he helped him blow his nose. His child was incredibly adorable, and his actions mirrored yours to such an extent that it made Satoru's heart soften.
"Mama g-got hurt trying to... tell me to g-go..." the boy suddenly said amidst his quieter sniffles. "And... she s-said... papa— i-is strong and g-going to win..."
You believe in him. Ignoring the ache in his chest, only able to reply him with a "Yeah..."
Not long after, Shoko emerged from the operating room and informed him that the surgery had been successful, though you would likely need to have a one-week stay in the hospital for observation. He intended to move you to the VIP suite and stay the night there, but then he remembered his son, who was holding his hand.
Satoru crouched down and patted him in the head, fixing him a smile. "See? Mama is okay, but she needs to sleep here to get even better. Now you go home first with big brother Megumi, yeah?"
Your son adored Megumi and often begged you to let him stay over at his place, but this time he looked hesitant, fiddling with his little fingers. "Really? Mama will be home... soon?"
"Mm-hmm, the more she sleeps here, the faster she'll go back home, alright?"
And with that, his baby nodded and Satoru turned to Megumi with a nod. "Thank you for this, Megumi."
The boy whose life he had once saved on some sort of a whim, now grown up and shared the same concern he had for you, Fushiguro Megumi had never before witnessed his benefactor expressing such sincere gratitude for anything before.
When you came to, your body felt as heavy as lead.
The discomfort in your abdomen made you flinch, and you almost let out a groan until you turned to your side and saw him.
Satoru was asleep while sitting in the sofa next to your bed, dark circles evident under his eyes. It might have been your imagination, but his cheeks appeared to be slightly red too.
You tried to recall what had happened to you when it came back—you urging your son to run away as you let yourself being taken away, almost escaping from that warehouse, the flash of excruciating pain, and Satoru's stricken voice.
So he must've been here since last night. Any remnants of your disagreement seemed to have vanished, seeing him there with you, barely covering himself with the blanket, with a frown still marking his forehead even in his sleep.
You wanted to reach out to him until the movement sent a sharp jab to your stomach and you cried out a bit.
In that split second, Satoru's eyes jerked open, and realizing you were awake, his gaze locked onto yours. "Y/N—" But your strained whimper and expression told him everything. "Does it hurt? I-I'll get Shoko, wait—"
And then he hit the call button. Throughout it all, he kept a firm grip on your hand for reassurance. A few minutes later, Shoko arrived and examined your wound, subsequently administering painkillers to alleviate your discomfort.
"It's going to leave a scar," she explained grimly, showing the mangled skin where the curse had made its mark on you, and seeing that, Satoru clenched his fists.
Shoko sighed, empathizing with her friend's frustration. "It's going to fade with time, don't worry. You did well, Gojo. You brought her here quickly. Had you been even slightly later, there could have been an irreversible damage to her organs."
But your husband remained quiet, unable to bring himself to look at you. And after she left, you tried to finally voice your question to him.
"O-our—"
"He's fine," Satoru immediately answered, squeezing your hand. "Our boy is fine. I'll tell Megumi to visit later—he's with him."
A sigh of relief came out of you. "Thank... goodness."
But his expression seemed to fall even further after hearing your response. Satoru settled himself on the seat next to you and lowered the rail on your bed, allowing you to be even closer to each other.
"Do you not feel any pain anymore?" he asked then, gently tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He looked so sad, a stark contrast of how he usually was, and it bugged you.
"No... I feel fine now."
"Then, can I hug you?"
Of course you nodded without a second thought, and carefully, he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you close and resting his face on the crook of your neck.
You knew what it was. Satoru was still visibly shaken by what had happened to you, and he wasn't great at expressing himself, so he tried to find consolation through this physical closeness instead.
"I'm okay..." you patted his back, trying to convince him. "I'm alright now, yeah?" But to your surprise, suddenly his whole body started to shake. "Satoru...?"
“…’m sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper as he nuzzled you. “I shouldn't... have let you get this hurt...”
It always amazes you how Satoru always gets this distressed whenever you sustain any injury. You had seen him cry precisely two times now—once after you gave birth to your son and experienced severe bleeding, and now.
"It's not your fault..." you whispered in response. "You... have protected me well."
He held you tighter, his tone faltering. "I didn't."
"You have..." you stroked his hair, trying to convince him. "I'm still here, aren't I?"
Hearing you say that made Satoru's chest ache. The thought of something like this happening to you was unimaginable, and now that it had, he couldn't come to terms with seeing you hurt right in front of him.
"Don't—" he choked on his voice, his breath trembled against your neck. "Don't ever put yourself in danger again. If something happened to you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself..."
You couldn't make that promise. Despite the pleading in his voice, you knew deep down that your son's life—and his—meant more, and given the chance, you would obviously save theirs for yours.
“Satoru... I love you, you know that, right?”
So you simply embraced him close, hoping that in this life, you would live long enough that he would never have to see you like this again.
Epilogue
"Papa, how do I become stronger?"
Satoru blinked when his son asked him that so innocently and curiously, taken aback as he led him to your private room later that afternoon. "Oh? What brought this on?"
His first and only son, a perfect miniature of himself, pursed his lips. "I don't want Mama to get hurt again..."
Satoru's heart warmed at his baby’s sincere words, and despite himself, he chuckled.
"What's funny?" his son leveled a glare at him. "I'm being serious."
"Well, aren't you such a good boy? Don't worry, kiddo, I'll teach you my ways~"
"What ways?"
"Well, no need to rush, pumpkin. First of all, you will have to harness your skills and then you have to be more like me—"
"Do I have to be like you…? Is there no other way?"
"—? What's wrong with being more like me?"
"Everything...?"
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your panties scare me, can i take them off?
pov. you got new halloween panties/pajamas and he’s about to lose his mind.
content: implied smut, breath play (toji), virgin!choso, sexual content (MDI), husband!nanami, breeding kink (nanami), roommate!gojo, afab!reader
incl pairings: choso, nanami, gojo, toji
word count. 2.1k
soundtrack 💿🌧️: sex on sight ft. usher
Choso.
"Mmh..."
You lay on the bed, entangled in burly arms and the scent of aftershave. Your boyfriend is attacking you in sloppy kisses, all down your neck and jaw, as screams beam out of the TV from the horror movie you'd stopped watching about ten minutes ago.
His hand roams dangerously over your side while your nails dig into his back for stability. The two of you have yet to take things as far as penetration, so it’s all you can do to fight back the urge to whip his cock out and plop down on it.
You wonder if tonight things are going to finally change, as you feel your panties grow damper, and Choso's cock digging into your stomach through his sweats.
"Why do we always do this?" Choso breathes. “We start a movie we can't even finish."
You laugh against him before it melts into a moan at the reminder of his wet lips. "Because I don’t like scary movies, Cho. ‘M so afraid.”
Choso grunts against your skin, "Really? How can i make you feel better?”
You huff and roll onto your back. Choso doesn't waste any time climbing over you, propping himself up on his elbows.
"You can start by taking my shorts off,” you instruct, eyes filled with lust as you stare up at your ebony-haired partner.
He pauses his kisses to look down at you in surprise. "Y-You want to...?"
"Yes," you nod, biting your lip. “Don’t y’wanna comfort me from the scary monsters on the TV?”
Choso nods eagerly, and his big hands come up to your waistband to begin pulling down your shorts. As the material slides over your thighs, he pauses and stares with furrowed brows, right at your underwear.
"Um, baby?" he cocks his head to the side. "Who is... V.S.?"
You let out an exasperated breath before smiling. "That stands for Victoria's Secret, Cho. It's a lingerie brand."
His eyes bulge and he looks back up at you, "Lingerie?"
He continues to slide the shorts all the way off, to reveal your blood red thong with a tiny white ghost on the front. You suspect the ghost is supposed to look like a glob of cum, and you imagine Choso’s in its place.
"Oh fuck," he breathes, "you wore these f'me?"
"Who else, Cho?" you run your hands over your stomach seductively, patting the top of the thong. "You like?”
Choso's eyes flash white, and he hooks his fingers over the skinny string that keeps the thong around your waist.
"Shit, I..." he swallows thickly. "Love them. You have more like this?”
You nod confidently. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you see them one at a time.”
You wink and Choso’s nervous hands remain entangled in the strings of your thong. “What if I can’t please you?”
"Not possible," you shake your head, running your hands into his hair, grateful he’d taken it out of its pigtails for his shower. "I nearly cum every time we make out."
His eyes widen. "Oh, so it's not just me," he breathes out in relief.
You giggle and spread your legs a little more, your lips threatening to pop right out of the terribly small pair of panties.
A girl shrieks on the TV and there is the sound of a slashing knife.
You fake a shiver, "Oh, Cho! I'm so afraid. Mmh, hurry and make me feel better.”
Choso smirks and rips down your panties, knowing that the neighbors are going to think someone is really being murdered by the time he’s done with you.
Nanami.
"Excuse me, my love."
You turn in place to see your husband, standing in the doorframe of the bathroom as you brush your teeth.
"Hmph, yes?" you mumble around your toothbrush, your face heating in the same way it always does when you see him, no matter how long you’ve been together.
Nanami stands awkwardly in the doorframe, shifting his weight like a nervous child. He's in his own version of pajamas: a white shirt, plaid pants, and house shoes. His hand raises and he points to your legs.
"When did you acquire those?" he asks delicately, referring to the tiny orange shorts you have on that are patterned in bats.
"The shorts?" you mumble, before removing your toothbrush and spitting out the toothpaste. "Um, I got them yesterday while costume shopping with the kids. Why?"
Nanami laces his fingers together. "I just thought I'd seen all of your clothes, because you always try them on for me. You didn't..." he inhales a ragged breath. "You didn't show me these. Is there a reason?"
You nearly feel your heart shatter through your ribcage. Nanami clearly looks distraught that you failed to give him a fashion show. At the same time, you notice his pajama pants growing a friendly tent in them, and you suspect you know the real reason he is upset.
"I... wanted it to be a surprise, Ken," you say, pat drying your mouth on a washcloth, before walking towards him, all minty and shower fresh.
"A surprise?" Nanami questions, visibly getting tense as you approach.
"Mhmm..." you tiptoe your fingers up his arm and over his shoulder. "You like them?"
"That's a very loaded question," Nanami mutters. "I like anything you wear."
"But these seem to be having a different effect on you, honey," you coo, tilting your head to the side, resting your hand on the back of his neck - his sweet spot.
You watch his Adam's apple bob.
"Yes," he whispers, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. "They’re really… small. And we, you know, can’t do things as often anymore with the baby… I just miss you.”
You sigh, relaxing under his touch. “Right. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
Nanami lets out a feral noise. "No, I’m not. I feel like a horny teenager. Just need you really bad.”
“I haven’t seen you this desperate in a while, honey,” you say, taking a step back, letting your hands fall off of each other. "Go ahead. Take them off.”
Nanami doesn't hesitate. His big hands gently peel down the waistband, and he bites his lip as he examines what’s underneath.
"You're not wearing underwear," he realizes with a breath. “Gonna make me lose myself here, Y/N.”
"Well, I was thinking..." you cock your head to the side. "One more baby wouldn't hurt, would it?"
Nanami's eyes grow a bit larger. “D-don’t say that.”
“Know you’ve been trying so hard not to finish in me,” you coo, “but don’t you miss it?”
“Y/N…” his knuckles go white as he nearly rips the material of your little shorts. “We really shouldn’t.”
"No, but ngh..." you roll your hips under his hands. "Wouldn't it be fun to see how feral we can get?"
"I am already ‘feral’ just looking at these shorts, Y/N." Nanami nearly whines, his eyebrows furrowed in desperation, waiting for you to give him the word.
"Really," you whisper on his neck, planting a kiss there soon after. "That was easier than I thought.”
Nanami sighs against you. "Why are you so good at this, hm, little minx?"
You smile against his skin, "Why are my shorts still on, Kento?"
Nanami growls, all guttural and primal instinct, and your back is crashing against the counter in an instant.
You bite your lip, "Eager?” you question.
"You have no idea." He hums as he slides down the orange garment, staring at them. "Did you buy any more?”
"Maybe," you say quietly, blinking as you try to picture what he's going to do to you next.
"Good," he parts your legs and stands between them before using his thick hands to open your mouth and shove the shorts right inside of it. “We’ll need these so we don’t wake the baby.”
Gojo.
"You wanna be me so fucking bad!"
You spin slowly in place, holding a piece of popcorn only halfway to your mouth. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
Your eyes land on your roommate's bottoms, a plush pair of Friday-the-13th pajama pants. They are exactly like the boy shorts you’re wearing, the ones that have ridden up and cover basically nothing.
"If you wanted to match, you could've just said that," Gojo huffs, crossing his arms.
You raise your eyebrow, "I’ve had these for a long time. You're the one who wants to be like me."
Gojo scoffs. "Why haven’t I ever seen them, then?" He shoves his hands in his pockets. “And au contraire, madamoiselle, I want to be in you. Huuuge difference there.”
You cough a bit, choking on nothing, unable to respond.
"Of course, choking on my cock could definitely work too," Gojo mutters, examining his nails. "Maybe teach you a lesson about walking around in just your panties."
You roll your eyes, but it’s hard to deny the fluttery feeling in your stomach just from his words. "Please, like I've never done this before."
"And every time you have, you end up bent over, begging for me to take it easier, don't you?" He cocks his head to the side and lets his eyes slither down your body like a snake of temptation.
You bite your lip. "So it’s my fault that you have no self control?”
Gojo nods his head. "Yes, maybe I just wanted to have a nice, relaxing Halloween game night with you... but now you've got me so worked up."
You tap your chin. "You wanted to spend time with me that doesn't involve sex? Seems a little out of character, don't you think?"
Gojo stalks towards you, long feathery strides until he's towering over your frame, eyes threatening to sear your clothes right off of you.
"Oh, you can't get any denser, can you?" he questions. "This sick little arrangement we have, teasing each other and fucking on every surface in the house isn't what I want." He pauses. "I mean, yes, but it's more than that."
You blink up at him. "What else could you possibly want?"
Gojo sighs, and slowly wraps his arms around you in a cinnamon-scented bear hug. "I want to contact you about your car's extended warranty."
"SATORU!" you screech, hitting him on the chest as he bursts into laughter.
"I'm joking, you know that I can't take shit seriously," he runs his fingers through his hair. “For fuck sake, I want a relationship with you, okay? Do I need to spell it out on the lawn?"
"Yes, actually," you tease, sitting your popcorn bucket down and running your buttery hands over his chest. "You want to be with me?"
"Your pussy's too good to let anyone else have you," he hums, leaning forward and kissing your neck.
"You're so annoying," you grit, but you can't help but melt into his touch and kisses.
He chuckles against you but doesn’t respond.
Gojo pulls his head out of your neck and leans towards you, lips parted in expectancy.
Your eyes flutter closed just as your mouths collide, this kiss feeling different than the hundreds that had come before it. You lean into him and grab the drawstring of his pajamas, while his fingers are also subconsciously twisting into your boy shorts.
"Mmh, can't get enough of you," Gojo mumbles against your mouth.
You giggle. "Good thing I'm yours now. There's plenty of time to reach all of me."
He breaks away from you and stares down in astonishment. "Really?"
You nod, tugging him closer by his pants. "So, about that game night..."
"Eh, it can wait, we have some celebrating to do." He grins, and before you know it you're being lifted swiftly into the air, hauled over his shoulder with your ass next to his face, as he pops a crack on the soft skin there. "And don't you ever wear these without warning me again."
Toji.
“Why are you hovering? I said sit.”
Your boyfriend is obsessed with you sitting on his face, suffocating him with your cunt and juices, this is nothing new. But this time, he wants to try something a bit more deranged.
You’d just been trying to show him your new panties and matching socks, honest. You may have also been wearing one of his shirts, and this was absolutely his weakness, and you absolutely knew that.
“My shirt, baby?” he’d cooed, pulling you into a hug and planting soft kisses on your face. “New panties too? You spoil me.”
It wouldn’t be long before he was lifting you up, effortlessly, carrying you to the bed and laying down on it. Then, before you had the chance to squirm or run, he was gripping your sides and lifting you over his face, where you caught your weight with your knees.
“Toji, they’re still on,” you mumble, his hands gliding up your sides to hike up his shirt. He stares directly between your legs which causes your clit to twitch.
“So?” he questions from below.
Thick hands mash into the crease of your hips, forcing your weight to fall down on his wide nose and full lips.
Your face turns the color of beets, but you ultimately have no time to be embarrassed as Toji locks his arms around your thighs.
His eyes have fluttered closed, and you can feel his shuddering breath through the cloth as he takes in your scent.
Your hands are on the headboard for stability, looking down at him, feeling your panties grow damper as he wiggles his face around, nose brushing your clit.
“Toji approved,” he says suddenly, before you feel his fat, warm tongue slide along the material of the panties, and your body lurches.
“Wh-What…?”
“I can still eat you through your panties,” he huffs, eyes popping open and catching you staring down at him. “This was the plan all along, puss.”
Your thighs shudder on either side of his head. “You’re not serious.”
“As a heart attack, baby,” he mumbles, before flicking his tongue over the cloth again, nose massaging your clit, hands burying deeper into your skin. It’s all so much, you moan and rotate your hips over him.
“Wh-what made you want to try this?” you ask, biting your lip as he tugs on the material with his teeth, taking in another animalistic sniff.
“You looked so proud to show them off,” Toji grunts. “It’s a shame that they were only going to end up on the floor, huh?”
You have to agree. You’d stopped buying lingerie long ago because it would never last more than a few seconds around Toji, but you figured a new pair of panties couldn’t hurt. You just hadn’t expected this reaction out of him.
Besides, you can’t deny how good it feels to dry hump his face, there only being a thin barrier between your folds and his wet tongue, making it all the more a tease.
From then on, it became a regular tradition for Toji to “approve” your new holiday panties - but of course, the halloween ones remained his favorite.
A/N:
im sorry for pumping out these shitty short ones but im just trying to keep yall fed while we wait for the long ones ^.^
~pennjammin
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