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bluebasie · 21 days

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Sanegiyuu Makes So Much Sense!!

I absolutely adore the ship of Sanemi and Giyuu and it never fails to confuse me when people say they don't understand why people ship them or when people say it makes no sense, especially when compared to other ships. I understand it's one thing to personally not ship Sanegiyuu because obviously it's just not for everyone and other people prefer other ships, but I definitely feel like I can confidently say that the ship makes a ton of sense from a character perspective.

Firstly, Sanemi and Giyuu have this mutual interest in each other that just isn't displayed when Giyuu or Sanemi interact with the other Hashiras or just others in general. While Sanemi loves to say that he hates Giyuu’s attitude he could just as easily just ignore him and leave him alone since he ‘dislikes him so much’. But clearly Sanemi has some sort of interest with Giyuu as seen when he gets so worked up when Giyuu tries to leave the Hashira meeting after it was over in comparison to the other Hashiras who albeit showed care for Giyuu’s abandonment, they all remained seated except for Sanemi who tried to physically force Giyuu to stay. If Sanemi really did dislike Giyuu’s presence he wouldn't have cared if Giyuu left or stayed but the fact that he wanted him to stay shows he does care about him even if it was negative at first. Then there was their whole sparing scene in which Sanemi apparently stormed to Giyuus house to try to talk to him or at least get some kind of reaction out of him which clearly shows Sanemi’s abnormal obsession with Giyuu whether it be his actions or trying to understand him. Then when Tanjiro 'interrupted’ the two fighting Sanemi seemed to gain a new layer of protectiveness that he clearly didn't have while fighting when he noticed Tanjiro’s presence. While Sanemi seemed unrestrained and free while fighting Giyuu with an onslaught of loose movements and confident attacks as if his spar with Giyuu was a form of stress relief for him, when seeing Tanjiro and realizing his spar with Giyuu was being perceived by another he immediately put his borders back up. Sanemi immediately came to the conclusion that Tanjiro was spying on them as if their spar was a private moment between two close companions. Sanemi already seemed to get defensive when Tanjiro arrived but when Tanjiro revealed Sanemi enjoyance of frivolous things such as ohagi and green tea and Sanemi’s persona as some kind of extreme tough guy who didn't care for things such as sweets was broken obviously Sanemi started to get irritated. What's interesting about this scene though is that it isn't until Giyuu comments on Sanemi’s affection for ohagi does Sanemi crash out and punch the lights out of Tanjiro. It's just so obvious that Sanemi was embarrassed that Giyuu could think he's soft which just provided another example of Sanemi caring what Giyuu thinks of him when he clearly does not care when it comes to others. It's just too funny how much Sanemi cares about Giyuu to the point where the scene right before THE ENTIRE INFINITY CASTLE ARC AND THE DEATH OF SO MANY CHARACTERS he is literally just storming off and steaming at the thought of “what would have happened if Tanjiro didn't interrupt”.

It’s even more hilarious that Giyuu, the character that is literally known for being antisocial and having no friends, just wants to be Sanemi’s friend. Giyuu has Tanjiro and Shinobu and definitely a few others who are trying or have tried desperately to befriend him with absolutely no reaction but apparently Giyuu decides that he wants to befriend the unapproachable guy with anger issues who says he dislikes him. I'm sorry but that is such homosexual activity I don't even know how else to put it. Like Sanemi literally barged into Giyuu’s house, fought him, knocked his little brother out, and stormed off without a word, and all Giyuu can think of afterward is how happy he is to know Sanemi’s favorite food and is already coming up with a sad plan to win him over. This dude is really smiling and all thinking of his perfect future interaction with Sanemi with floating flowers in his little fantasy. I also just love the idea that he uses Tanjiro as his little wingman to help come up with ideas to win Sanemi over that all probably fail miserably just like the ohagi.

Sanemi and Giyuu have been set up from the beginning and you can see the future of their relationship from the fact that Giyuu’s voice was enough to distract Sanemi enough to get hit by Tanjiro who was a much lower rank than himself in the scene of Nezuko’s trial. The characters have been set up as parallel characters throughout the series in so many ways it's hard to not spot the special relationship between them that isn't there between other characters. Their character design and personalities are already foil with Sanemi’s white hair and impulsive and explosive personality compared to Giyuu’s black hair and calm and collected personality. There is Sanemi’s ability to speak his mind at all times and Giyuu’s inability to speak his mind at times at all. There is Sanemi’s main emotion and expression being one of anger with Giyuu’s being sadness. Another big foil being Giyuu’s compassion and trust towards Tanjiro and Nezuko and their situation while acting as an advocate for them while Sanemi had clear mistrust towards them and their situation acting as their biggest opponent during Nezuko’s trial. Finally, there is the fact that Giyuu’s fighting style is one that revolves around ultimate defense while Sanemi is one that focuses on the ultimate attack. Just by noticing their opposites you can tell the importance of their relationship, but this continues throughout the series in which they are the ONLY two hashiras to survive which was definitely done for a reason. Their relationship is also displayed during their clash to turn their blades red showing their status as equals. The fact that they are the two last Hashiras ties them together even more seeing as after the war they both kind of don't have anyone to lean on besides themselves with the Kamaboko squad all living together and the Uzui’s having each other, Sanemi and Giyuu don’t have some big family to stay with, so they hang out with each other as seen in the panel why their having lunch together.

Out of every non canon ship I truly think thank Sanemi and Giyuu have the most developed and well written relationship down to basic characterization to where these two seem like they were really made together as a pair. Even though they aren’t canonically romantic, their relationship is written better than some actual cannon ships and I think some people should look more into the smaller details when it comes to this ship!

#giyuu tomioka #sanemi shinaguzawa #sanegiyuu #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny hashira

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synthetickitsune · 3 months

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Oh, Death ✧ y.jh

Pairing: grim reaper!Yoon Jeonghan x reader (gn) Genre: angst without plot Summary: You've always thought death was beautiful and then you’re proven right just before your very own death when he comes to take you away. Word count: 1.3k Warnings: reader dies, implied suicidal thoughts and body image issues (very brief mentions for both) A/N: based on three banger lines (in bold in the fic) that @hanniedream dropped into my dms and then wrote her own amazing fic (with plot!!) that's much better than whatever this is so go read that (i'm just freeloading on bibi's big brain here)

You've always thought death was beautiful and then you’re proven right just before your very own death when he comes to take you away.

He stands there like an apparition of moonlight on a cold and rainy night, a single beam that would break the stormy skies and bring silence upon the world.

As if covered by a heavy blanket of snow, as if the time has stopped, all sound disappears from the world, from the street, from your room. You take a breath and you’re so startled you gasp again, self-conscious of the loud noise in the perfect silence.

His breathing is quiet and slow, methodical, as if he’s counting the beats of your heart before he breathes each time. It’s slow, you find, your heartbeat. Almost artificial in its steady tempo.

Somehow you feel like it’s stopped beating a long time ago, now only a memory meant to soothe you. Your body trying to save your life one last time, the memories of your cells working all together to keep you alive keep going even after their purpose was fulfilled until the last second. You look behind you - mean to look.

You can’t.

Not with the cold but gentle fingertips softly touching your jaw just as you’re about to turn back to take a look.

You’re startled again when your gaze turns towards what’s in front of you. He moved without a sound, crossing the expanse of space between you in just one second. Where are you? It feels like a dream. The split second of time between sleep and waking up, the short infinity when a lightning flashes in perfect silence and wakes you up from your sleep. You think you see stars, but they lose their shine against his eyes.

They’re the color of ice but hold the gentleness of melting snow, the water freed from its icy prison and searching for someone to embrace and mold itself against their shape. His touch is just like that snow, stealing your warmth slowly. You don’t mind it being drained as long as he keeps his fingers on your skin. He never warms up. His touch remains freezing and he looks apologetic for that. Yet there’s no reason. His cold is one of a breeze on summer’s day, a cold towel on your forehead when you’re tormented by fever.

You think you love him, death.

You understand that’s what he is. That there’s nothing that can be done about it, or about your demise. It’s not his place to decide about it, only to carry it out. He’s gentle. Quiet. As cold as his touch is, it doesn’t hurt you. You don’t remember any pain. You feel light, something akin to happiness buzzing under your skin. Elated. That’s how you feel. A reverent sort of happiness that you suppose comes after the hardship is over.

Is it an act of mercy that he won’t let you see the body that kept you alive? Or is it a rule he has to follow? You wish to see it. For all the complicated feelings you might’ve had towards it through your life, it was yours. It treated you as best as it could.

You lower your eyes like a child being scolded when his fingers stroke your cheek gently, preventing you from turning back for the second time. He’s patient. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do, but you’re sure it’s not lingering on the border between life and death, between the then and the to-be. Yet you do. It’s strange. You craved death so dearly, like a sweet candy after a bitter medicine, yet now that you’re parting with life you’re hesitant. Like wondering if you forgot to take your keys with you the moment the door is closed. Only this time, there’s no one to help you. Shedding your skin, like shedding your life in the world of living, is perhaps truly an act of mercy.

Of course you weren’t prepared for death, and for what comes after. No matter how much you longed for it and wished for it at times. It feels awkward. You’re glad someone is here waiting for you, guiding you. You’re sure he’s meant to guide you. It feels familiar. Did a similar scene happen before? Your memories are so hazy, your entire life flashing through your mind on a loop. Perhaps he’s there too somewhere, waiting like he’s waiting now for you to notice him.

You raise your gaze again and meet his eyes.

You always knew there was a reason you thought about and loved death as much as you did and now that you're face to face with him, everything made sense. death was beautiful. Death is beautiful.

You wonder if someone told him before.

Slowly he lets his hand fall, tracing your skin down your neck and towards your collarbones. Then lower. He caresses your sternum until his fingers stop just below it. You shiver. Like a deer staring into the scope of a rifle, you hold his gaze. They’re kind, his eyes. He’s kind. You feel no pain.

His soft eyes reassure you and comfort you. You start crying, and you see tears pooling in his eyes too until a single one overflows. You feel cold. The cold of staying in the pool for too long. The cold of sitting in the shower after the water stopped running, the droplets cooling on your skin, barely any heat remaining trapped in the fold of your curled body.

His lips part only slightly. You want to hear his voice but he doesn’t say anything. Your breathing is erratic and too loud, you can’t even hear him breathing. Another tear spills. His other hand comes to hold your face like he did before. Gently, a barely-there touch. His hands are always gentle. Careful not to cause pain. Something is being ripped from you with his icy touch, but it doesn’t hurt. Does it hurt him? Is he taking your pain away? If so, you wish he didn’t. Seeing him cry is like watching an angel weep. It should never happen. No matter if he’s the opposite of an angel.

It feels like an ice shard is being pulled from your body, so slowly that the sharp edges don't cut you. Something heavy is being taken from you. Something that kept the blood, the hurt, inside you. What are you going to do without it? His fingers move smoothly to hold your chin up, so you don’t see what it is that he took from you. There’s a void in your chest left behind. A black hole swallowing everything, starving to fill the emptiness. It’s not hard to guess what it was that he took from you.

One more tear falls. You want to tell him it’s okay. Instead he leans closer. His soft breath caresses your skin. You close your eyes when he’s so close you can see the web of galaxies in his irises. His lips are like petals of a frozen flower against the skin of your cheek. When you open your eyes again, he’s crying. Silently.

He extends a hand towards you, stained ruby. You take it. It’s sticky and cold. It binds you together.

If the stain remains, if it’s never washed away, will the blood spin itself into a string that would guide you back to him?

Without an answer, you follow him. For now, you only need to hold his hand. You don’t need to look for him if he found you.

And for now, that’s enough.

For now, you feel him.

Later you’ll look for ways to find him too.

#seventeen reactions #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #svthub #seventeen angst #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan angst #svt scenarios #svt reactions #svt angst #fanfic #angst

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akumakosuke · 5 months

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†Our cursed love†

★Chapter two- Your infinity.★

{soooo I finally wrote another damn chapter! Yay! Motivation is a very hard thing to come across but I have so many fucking ideas and a bit of motivation so I'll be updating hopefully every week or two}

No warnings just fluffy fluff

~Three years later ~

Somewhere…

The sky is dark. The seemingly endless void of inky blackness only outshined by the brilliance of the full moon and the countless twinkling stars accompanying her. The calm, serene silence of the night and low whispers of the gentle breeze, rustling of the unkept grass at the border of the Gojo property, rhythmic chirps and noises from the creatures that call the moonlight home, makes for a perfect night…

Two young, lonely souls meet atop a hill, both guided to each other by an unexplainable pull. Two young Gods under the night sky, unaware of how they’re slowly falling.

“Hurry up idiot! We don’t have all night!” A 13 year old Satoru spoke with annoyance as he runs ahead of his best friend.

“Geez, I’m coming! Why do have to run huh!?” Questions an equally annoyed M/n, having to speed up to keep up with the energetic Satoru.

The two boys soon start running at the same pace, the wind whipping against their faces, making their hair dance with the breeze. Wide, carefree grins adorn their faces as the run turns into a race.

The still night air is soon interrupted by joyous laughter, so pure, so happy.

M/n speeds up, overtaking Satoru, he turns back to look at his counterpart with a smug grin.

“Too slow Satoru~” he teases, sticking out his tongue.

Satoru scowls and speeds up, easily catching up.

“Slow? Who me? You’re the slow one M/n, try to keep up~”

Satoru ahead, leaving M/n in the dust as he heads to the tree on top of the hill. He runs and runs, the crisp air filling his lungs, his feet making no sound as he steps. He can’t hear M/n but he knows he’ll show up soon so he can’t slow down.

He finally gets to the tree, yelling victoriously. He turns around, expecting to see the defeated face of M/n but he sees nothing. No M/n. He frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. He couldn’t be that far behind right?

Satoru tries to sense his cursed energy but unfortunately M/n has been training to hide his presence completely and apparently he’s gotten really good at it. Not even his six eyes can find him, Satoru really needs to train more.

He sighs, brilliant blue eyes that shine as bright as the moon scanning the fields. He quickly spins around, hearing a faint sound in the tree. His eyes examine the treetop, a playful smirk etched on his face.

“Oh so you want to play games my dear, M/n? Alright I’ll play your little game.” He muttered playfully as he slowly approached the tree, his six eyes active, using this as an opportunity to hone his skills.

As expected he gets no reply. He chuckles softly, his heart beating faster, excitement buzzing in every bone. He hears another rustle making him snap his head in that direction. He hums softly.

“You’re bad at hiding, you should just give up now.” He jests, hoping to rile M/n up and make him make a mistake. He stands directly beneath the tree, looking directly up into the foliage, thin streams of soft moonlight poking through the leaves but no M/n.

“Boo…”

Satoru freezes, his heart leaping out of his chest when he hears that soft voice behind him. When he feels his warm breath fanning his ear, when he finally senses that familiar presence.

M/n’s voice is as soft as the breeze and Satoru becomes hyper aware of their proximity causing a blush to creep up on his face.

He spins around and striking blue orbs clash with bright crimson ones and like every time the world seems to come to a stand still, everything fades into background noise and he finds himself drowning, like the air was stolen from his lungs.

M/n smirks, relishing in that dumbfounded expression he’s come to like so much. He loves catching Satoru off guard, slipping past the infamous six eyes. He notices the blush, confused at first but then it dawns on him how close they are. His heart speeds up, his breathing coming to a stop and he finds himself drowning, like the air was stolen from his lungs.

~M/n POV~

‘What’s happening to me? I feel frozen, like time stopped entirely. Why is my heart beating so fast?’ My thoughts race as we have a staring contest, neither of us saying a word.

Normally I would be able to read Satoru like an open book but I can’t read him now. That’s not his normal annoyed or shocked look. What is he thinking? Why isn’t he saying anything?

~Satoru POV~

‘My heart feels like it’s going to explode. His gaze, why does his gaze make me feel like this… this warm fuzzy feeling in my chest. When I’m near him it’s like my senses are dulled, like everything else becomes a blur… what is this?’

I feel goosebumps forming on my skin and I don’t think it’s because of the breeze. My heart pounds in my chest like a drum and I finally snap out of my daze and quickly turn away with a very awkward laugh causing M/n to do the same.

This has been happening more often, both of us just getting lost in each other’s gaze but we never address it. We just laugh and move on. I sometimes wish he didn’t move on, I sometimes wish we would address it but it’s probably nothing really.

~3rd POV~

M/n shoves Satoru’s shoulder, the awkwardness quickly dissipating into the blissful calm of the night.

“Come on, we don’t have all night.” M/n says as he walks to their spot on the hill and sits down in the grass.

Satoru glares at him playfully, making a mental note to get back at him for the push, but also mentally scolding himself for getting distracted. He approaches M/n and settles down beside him,

They both lay down, nestled in the soft embrace of nature. The grass is cool, their backs supported by the earth beneath them. They both gaze up at the celestial canopy that seems to stretch infinitely, adorned with a myriad of twinkling stars that paint the night sky with their radiant glow.

They settle into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence. A calm retreat, a break from the busyness of their lives. In this moment they forget their destiny’s and simply exist. Their curious eyes trace the constellations that have adorned the sky for eons, they seem so small and insignificant compared to them but they known how significant they are, as significant as the stars themselves.

Like the stars they will both be shining beacons of hope, hope for humanity, hope for sorcerers.

“My father increased my training today, it was exhausting.” M/n’s whispers, his soft voice carrying a tiredness no 13 year old should have.

“Really? Again? Didn’t he increase it last week?” Satoru asks, his sympathetic voice providing a sense of comfort for M/n because Satoru understands.

“Yeah, he says I need to be stronger to face the evils of the world. He’s always going on about how special I am, how strong I can be. My potential. It’s annoying.” M/n’s tired voice has a bitter edge, the deep resentment he has for his father shining through.

M/n has never had the best relationship with his father and Satoru knows everything in great detail. He knows what a harsh man (f/n) Goto can be. He trains M/n to the point of collapse every day, claiming to be doing this for his own good.

“I’m sorry.” Satoru whispers, turning his head to gaze at M/n. He doesn’t need to say anything else, those two words spoken with such understanding and sincerity nothing else needs to be said. M/n knows he means it wholeheartedly.

M/n turns to gaze at Satoru, a grateful smile on his face. All the tension leaving his body when he gazes at those eyes. “It’s fine, I’ll get through it. How’s your training, I’ve noticed you using your infinity more often.”

Satoru smiles. “I’ve been learning how to keep his active for more than a few hours, I can manage it for around 3 hours without breaks. You should have seen my mother the first time I did it, she told everyone in the clan.”

M/n scoffs. “Of course she told everyone. You’re her little miracle after all.”

“Hey, I am a miracle and three hours is a long time, it still makes me exhausted.”

“Well mister miracle, I never said that it wasn’t impressive, it actually is.”

“Mister miracle? Really?” Satoru asks with a deadpan expression that soon breaks as he starts laughing at the ridiculous nickname.

Satoru’s laughter is contagious, making M/n burst into laughter as well. Both their laughs blending together in the purest of sounds, a symphony of joy.

Their fit of laughter slowly dies down, the echoes carried off by the breeze.

“You are terrible at nicknames M/n.”

“What? Would you prefer if I called you something else? Like Gogo, or jojo, maybe Jogo! Nah, Jogo sounds stupid.”

“Firstly no, secondly why are they all my last name?”

“Alright fine~ and they’re all your second name because I like your first name just the way it is, it’s perfect!”

Satoru looks at M/n like a deer caught in headlights, not expecting that. It’s stupid, those words don’t really mean anything yet they make his heart skip a beat. Perfect, his name is perfect…

M/n gets confused by the blank stare and silence, raising an eyebrow. He tries to tap Satoru on the shoulder but is stopped by a force. He frowns, looking down at his hand that’s mere inches away from Satoru but will never reach. Infinity.

“Oi, why is your infinity on? We aren’t supposed to use our techniques tonight. You’re gonna exhaust yourself and leave me to carry you all the way home… again.” M/n said in an annoyed tone, sitting up and crossing his arms over his chest.

Satoru also sits up, quickly pulled out of his fantasy. He smiles sheepishly, looking down to avoid M/n’s gaze. “Ah… well i just wanted to see if I can do it subconsciously… it is actually taking a lot out of me… even my six eyes is draining…” he mumbles nervously, knowing how M/n gets when he pushes himself too much.

M/n’s frown deepens, he scans Satoru from head to toe, noting how his infinity is still up, seeing the slight bags under his eyes, he was also running slower than usual. He didn’t even bring his glasses, he always forgets his glasses.

M/n doesn’t like Satoru’s infinity, when it’s on he feels like the gap between them suddenly grows and Satoru is out of reach, untouchable. M/n feels a spark deep within his soul, that same pull he felt when they first met. That voice in the back of his head, the one that told him to turn around, it’s telling him to reach out.

A part of him is telling him the gap between them isn’t as big as he thinks. All he has to do is reach out. M/n knows he can bypass Satoru’s infinity, it’s part of his inherited cursed technique. The Gojo and Goto clans are intertwined, and have been since the Golden age. They are extremely similar, both techniques bending reality in some way.

M/n knows of the technique to bypass Satoru’s infinity but he’s never been able to use it, he’s tried but alway failed because it’s too much of a strain on his eyes, his eyes like Satoru is an integral part of his clan. His eyes help control his inherited technique, without the Atomeye he could never hope to control his cursed technique. The cursed technique he’s been struggling with, Distortion.

M/n can distort the laws of physics, permitting the user to violate any physical law displaced in the universe. Everything that composes physics including space and time. Satoru’s infinity doesn’t actually stop things, it slows them infinitely, M/n can distort the space and time around himself, creating a barrier of complete nonexistent, nothing can pass this barrier because nothing can exist within it, not even Satoru’s infinity.

M/n takes a deep breath, concentrating his cursed energy into his hand, by focusing on one part of his body he could maybe sustain the technique for a while. He focuses on the feeling of non-existence, clearing his mind of all thoughts. He slowly reaches out, his movements slow and unsure.

Will he be stopped again? Is the gap between them only growing larger? Just a year ago they were on the same level. Now it feels like he can’t catch up. He can’t fall behind. He can’t be left behind. Not even infinity can stop him.

Satoru freezes when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. The touch feels like fire in his veins, it burns with an indescribable warmth, making his skin prickle with goosebumps. He is absolutely sure he had his infinity up, he was using it. Nothing can get past his infinity, only-

“Satoru…”

Satoru slowly turns his head towards M/n. That soft, gentle purr of his name compelling him, drawing him in. Like a damn sirens call and he’s helpless, unable to resist.

M/n forced himself to steady his voice, trying not to react when his technique finally works.

Their eyes meet and Satoru can feel his infinity slipping, exhaustion slowly creeping up on him and the way M/n looks at him isn’t helping. That soft look in his eyes that tells him he’s safe, that he can relax. It always manages to disarm him.

“Turn it off.”

Satoru finds himself nodding, offering no resistance as he turns his infinity off. His eyes slowly start to droop, a yawn escaping his lips without his consent. He doesn’t want M/n to know how exhausted he is and he doesn’t want to fall asleep when this is the only time they have together.

M/n sighs softly, turning his own technique off. He can tell how tired Satoru is so he won’t pester him with a lecture. Instead he slowly pushes Satoru back down on the grass, lying back down beside him. Satoru once again offers no resistance and quickly succumbs to his exhaustion.

He didn’t realise how tired he was until now. Satoru’s eyes flutter closed and he unconsciously scoots closer to M/n, craving his warmth. He lays his head on M/n’s shoulder, draping one arm over his chest, curling up to his side.

M/n’s breath hitches in his throat and he looks down at Satoru with wide eyes. His heart thumps wildly in his chest it feels like it’s going to explode. He tenses up slightly, his arms hovering awkwardly in the air because he doesn’t know what to do, this is the first time this happened.

The longer M/n stares at Satoru’s peaceful expression the more relaxed he becomes. His arms slowly lower, one wrapping around Satoru’s waist and the other under his head. His heart calms down and he sighs, feeling the gap between them disappear.

M/n knows they can’t stay out here for long, both of them having to be home before anyone figures out they’re gone in the first place but he can’t bring himself to disturb Satoru and he’s also a bit tired himself. His eyes slowly flutter closed and he allows sleep to overtake him.

Two God’s lay atop a hill, wrapped in each other’s comforting embrace. The infinity between them now non-existent. They slumber under the moons watchful gaze, separated from the complexities of their existence, shielded from reality even if just for a moment.

#malereader #male reader #dom male reader #top male reader #seme male reader #jjk x male reader #jujutsu kaisen #suguru geto x male reader #satoru gojo x male reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #†ourcursedlove†

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satocidal · 11 months

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𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ “Stacey’s Mom has got it going on” — Gojo Satoru

Synopsis: You can’t help eyeing your daughter’s pretty boyfriend when he’s just so sweet, and he can’t help himself either when you’re the best he would ever find.

— word count: 4.2k

— A/n: idk if this qualifies as dc (I don’t think so) but it has like, idk age gap and cheating concepts so take care

— warnings: smut!! MDNI!! Age gap (Gojo is 20 and you’re bordering late 30s); cheating; sort of asshole representative? But how else would something like this work; hair pulling; body worshipping; oral (f! Receiving); dub-con (slightly?); Satoru is a shit boyfriend to your daughter; hinted domestic abuse; mentions of scars; almost subby! Satoru? (There’s no definite concept of who’s dominant- and if satoru then a lot of soft dom); slight spitting; riding; simultaneous orgasm

21-7, Shinjuku 3-chome, Shinjyuku, Tokyo.

He had the address memorised, down to the number of windows in your house and the exact shade of the monotonous white your husband had deemed “minimalist”.

19 he was now, you stood at an elegant 37—arriving in the vicinity at an estimated 5 years ago, your husband’s property, he’d guessed.

Gojo Satoru was 14 when he first saw you, puberty making its way into the young boy’s mind—you did none but encourage the certain downfall in the way you tapped his cheek when he offered to help you in carrying the many bags.

Over the years, Satoru saw you a lot, and also, didn’t at all.

Satoru saw you in the afternoon haze, dealing with the heat—staring obnoxiously when you took off your floral shirts, standing in front of him in those tight leggings and tank tops—but he also saw you at times that you didn’t know about.

And when he didn’t see you physically, you were present on his mind.

At least up until his 18th birthday, you knew of his presence when he would come to meet you.

What had begun as an innocent tap on his cheek for being adorable had developed into an innocent friendship on your accords, smiling wide every few months when he would zoom past your house on his cycle.

The routine was simple then, left-right-right-left, 15 minutes of a way from his house, and there he would be, at your gate—somehow always when you had grocery to carry.

The routine was simple now too, 11 p.m. he would sneak out of his dorm room, a smirk on his face as he used his infinity—making his way into your house, all so quietly, to watch your pretty face as you slept—sometimes even snickering when he caught you being fucked by your husband, snickering at that bored expression on your face, knowing just how much better he could treat you.

He’d never been inside however, general courtesy to be shown, not as a kid—never yet as an adult.

Back then you’d giggled when a 17 year old Gojo had brought his shy friend to meet you, both their cycles parked outside your house as you tended to their boyish smirks, he doubted you’d giggle knowing that the same friend, Geto, was the one he sent your pictures to when he found you sleeping.

But Satoru wasn’t dumb, he knew you’d realise at some point and so, he did what he had to.

In his head, it was all your fault too, so oblivious to everything that he had to choose the second best, your daughter.

“I know she’s like hot and what not but you gotta let her go dude,” Suguru’s voice was a drag—partially dry from all the alcohol he’d consumed.

Satoru’s 20th birthday was approaching, a week left, the celebrations of course had to last a month.

Satoru chuckled beside his best friend—almost wasted he noted—“it’s not like I wanna fuck her or something,” he grinned, he knew wanted to, he knew he possibly couldn’t, “it’s just, I could treat her so much better you know? That stupid little house-”

Suguru smirked, “-don’t bring money into it you pervert,” his eyes bore into his best friend’s, “her daughter ain’t that bad ya know,”

Satoru snorted at that, “which is exactly why I went for her too,”

Just at that, Geto snorted too—mindlessly, shamelessly, both of them.

-ring!!

Slow, both their eyes panned onto Satoru’s phone, ‘my love’ the screen flashed, Suguru snorted again, “Ironic,”

With a roll of his eyes and a short smirk, he shook his head—knowing she’d only be calling because she was needy, at least that’s all he remembered her to be.

“Mmhmm baby, gonna drop by in half an hour yeah? Yeah, yeah, miss you too, bye,”

He always sounded sweet- that was what your daughter rambled about, Satoru Gojo was the sweetest guy ever, and you were glad mostly, a little jealous? You weren’t sure.

It just wasn’t something you ever had.

As Satoru got up to leave though—“you ever let your girl go though, hit me up alright?”

Satoru eyed his best friend with a grin- that was something he could do—“have our own fucked up family eh?”

“Satoru?” You smiled, “long time honey,”

‘For you’, he thought, smiling smugly, “I keep you in well wishes all the time so, not so much Ma’am,”

You chuckled at his words—ever the gentleman he’d been, “that’s adorable, is that how you charmed my daughter too?”

His heart ached at that—only a little however, no, it was all only for you, all the charm—all for his only woman.

Thoughts flashed onto his own girlfriend, he remembered the night well—it wasn’t much, her 16th birthday, he’d just turned 17 too— he’d dropped by, getting you those medicines you’d requested a week or so ago—they were only found near his vicinity, he could only oblige.

Curiosity often killed ended up killing the cat.

He’d racked his brain, he thought of it for endless nights—he didn’t want to accept it, not so easily, not when you made it seem simple.

Each of what you’d asked him to get was a pain killer.

He’d disliked your husband before, but since after, he was sure he hated him.

That night, he’d sat outside your house with your daughter, she was smoking—he was used to it, he hated the smell.

“Aren’t you too young to be smoking?” He’d teased, exactly how he used to Suguru and Shoko—except she didn’t entertain the jokes, never had, never would.

However, before a mean retort could fall off of her lips, a crash sounded all too loud.

Not accidental, Satoru knew that.

He was quick to get up, he was no hero, but his life be sworn if he let you suffer such—a hand held him back.

“Don’t get into it,” she warned, your daughter did.

He didn’t, it wasn’t his place to.

Your husband cheated that night, as he had countlessly, your daughter found her first boyfriend—you wept that night, Satoru’s heart did too.

“Can’t lie I keep a special bank reserved for my uh…mature ladies,” a wink he passed, he made you feel young, alive.

A shake of a head you passed and a knowing laugh.

You noted his lingering gaze, the bruise on your forearm ever present, never you said a word- never him.

The silence engulfing and nauseating.

“Your uh,” his words were rough, “anniversary yeah? Round the corner isn’t it?”

You giggled, almost as if it mattered, “So he remembers? And your own, isn’t it?” A look of slight confusion masked your face, he grinned, “a week after yours, it’s my birthday though, on the same day that is, you always mess it up,”

An apologetic smile you passed this time around, “why, I’m sorry, let me make up by baking you a pie honey?”

A thin smile adorned his face—shaking his head, he ushered you back in, waiting patiently for your daughter to bounce back, to remind him of his reality.

But just as you did turn, “wait, by the way,” his eyes lay stuck upon the bruises you didn’t care to hide, “how’re things going?”

His eyes gazed upon the sheer material of your shirt, “how’s…Mr Y/l/n?”

Almost a sneer, as if, you stared, “perfectly fine, Toru—how’re things with Y/d/n?”

He stared blankly this time around—“perfectly fine Ma’am.”

“Pass me the lighter,”

Satoru stared at his best friend’s outstretched hands—your daughter’s pretty smile as she handed him hers—the same smile that had intrigued Satoru to even look at her, the only feature on her face that resembled you.

“What are your plans for the anniversary?” The words registered in Satoru’s ears—he wasn’t sure who the speaker was, he didn’t exactly care, “I could help around your house,” a mutter, as if unsure to why—but certain that he wanted to.

Cocked brows looked at him confused, “…isn’t it your 20th birthday though?”

He nodded.

“Who wastes their 20th birthday helping around random houses?” Suguru’s tone was almost annoyed, as if he knew—or could’ve guessed why.

Satoru’s girlfriend laughed, “You know he’s screwed a little right? Can’t stop him if he doesn’t want to,”

Satoru nodded again—it gutted him onto how well she bothered to know him—and yet, he perhaps didn’t even bother knowing her favourites most of the time.

“No no,” head shaking, a grimace fell onto Suguru’s face, “pretty boy here can do whatever he wants,” a knowing look they both passed—“but 20s don’t happen again, go big or go home,”

Satoru chuckled, of course he had it all planned out, “I’m going big and going home,”

Another charming smile, another wink—just something you couldn’t become a fool too.

A slight frown rested on your lips, “You sure hon? You don’t have to waste your evening like this…”

It was almost motherly, the way you showed concern—in ways Satoru had barely experienced.

He scoffed, “Time well spent is never wasted,”

“You’re going to mow a lawn baby,” you chuckled, “y/d/n isn’t home either- you know her sleepover- I don’t see how-”

“-anything to please and help you is almost the best kind of work I could do,” you’d have smiled usually, at his words—a tiny flirt you always deemed him—laughing about it to your husband, even though he barely cared.

You didn’t care of it either, an empty marriage, so be it—hollowed from both ends, slow.

But this time, this was different.

This time you’d perhaps bask in his help—no husband to taunt by complimenting little Satoru, no daughter to tease by complimenting little Satoru.

Satoru wasn’t all so little, you realised—your daughter and husband weren’t home—just you, Satoru and his praises.

6 p.m. — 7 p.m. — 8 p.m.

Satoru didn’t remember a time to the when he’d done all so much work for his own mother- but he was content, with a pair of earphones and a creative little mind, he was intent to impress you.

It amused him, to actually how big of a lawn you actually did have—and he wondered at the almost pristine look of it if you managed it yourself.

Even if you did, he would be your helping hand now—he grinned ear to ear as he thought the countless many scenarios.

‘Desperate’ , a little voice in his head called—“my pretty good boy” your voice, the one you used in his thoughts, fought away all doubts.

But all to quick his train of thoughts paused, “you missed a spot there Toru’”

And most of the time, he’d be pissed on to anyone who dared to correct him—with you he’d nod obediently and carry on—but normally, even your normally, you didn’t step out in front of him in just a small, pretty pink towel wrapped around you.

Satoru Gojo had pretty eyes, a decent imagination too—he’d thought about you plenty of times.

Naked, spread open, on your knees, having him between your knees—many and every and any position but absolutely nothing could’ve compared to the way seeing you covered just enough—in a small towel got him hard.

Satoru Gojo had pretty eyes and for a second they were wide as saucers.

His eyes panned onto the spot you pointed at—he had indeed missed a spot—he nodded slowly.

The music rang in his ears—

Stacy's mom has got it goin' on

Ironic.

“I’ll get to it, going for a bath?”

It shouldn’t have been that casual—him asking you your schedule such—you let it be so.

“It’s getting late, want to stay the night? And yeah—yeah, a bath,”

Stay the night.

There the offer lay and his temptation—he watched the careless way you held the towel, all so small that decency was the only thing that stopped him from staring shamelessly at your exposed thigh.

“I don’t know-”

An attempt, simply a stupid attempt to save him and you—“-I insist and what song is that?”

He stared blankly, “Stacey’s mom,”

“How I love that song,”

Of course you did- he watched you walk away as the song continued playing.

Stacy, do you remember when I mowed your lawn?

Your mom came out with just a towel on

I could tell she liked me from the way she stared

And the way she said

"You missed a spot over there"

Down the drain, his character, perhaps yours—then relationships you’d held, everything.

Another nod.

“I’m staying the night Suguru,”

“Hah?!”

An eye roll, an obnoxiously pitched questionnaire, “The fuck? It’s your damn birthday tomorrow—why did you make me get that damn cake?”

Jaw clenched, he stared at the recently mowed lawn—10:00 p.m.

It was too late.

“Better get a taste of her damn pussy if you’re staying the night fucker,”

Satoru shook his head, a smile, “Shut up, talk about her nicely,”

“I’ll talk to her nicely when your girlfriend talks to me nicely when I’m dicking her down, really got yourself a brat huh?”

The smirk was evident in his tone- Satoru wanted to feel betrayed, he couldn’t.

“You’re such a bloody fucker,” he muttered through, “Take care of her,”

“Always have—you take care of her damn mom,”

And he always had too.

10:15 p.m.

He found it simply, weird, that you were in the shower all so long—shaving?

It was your anniversary tomorrow, a loyal wife, a good wife—you’d present yourself well—he thought.

He wasn’t entirely wrong either, was he?

Foggy, your bathroom mirrors stood as you prepared yourself just right, shaven smooth—a guilty heart panged in your chest.

You watched the many scars lingered upon your body, natural, provided—all yours and you doubted it, doubted the mere fact that Satoru would even think about touching you the way you fantasised.

It was wrong—just a fortnight ago and he was the sweet boy you used to adore and having by, just a week ago he was the boyfriend of your daughter that made your relationship all the more insecure, just tonight he was growing into his age.

Head hung back, you stared at the ceiling- so wrong and so right.

Almost melancholic, your train of thoughts was, and his too as he sat by the window of your room—“Please clean these windows too,” you’d said with a smile, breasts pushed together as you held your hand in front of you—the little pink towel did nothing, you knew that.

His hard-on was obvious, you’d had that effect on guys all the time—but then, maybe it wasn’t for you, maybe he just saw the sight and it reminded him of- maybe-

“God~ fuck-!”

Your ears perked up, maybe that was a moan.

Not maybe, it was—it was all too certain a breathy moan.

And before the better judgement was to be passed, there you were, the pink towel wrapped around all the more perversely as you twisted the knob of the door—entering your room to the prettiest sight in a while that you’d seen.

“Satoru?”

Eyes all so wide, the ministrations came to an immediate halt—“Mrs- Mrs- I- shit,”

You watched him scramble about, struggling to get the pants that he’d pulled down to his ankles, back in place—pale cheeks tinted with the embarrassment he held-“I’ll leave right now,” and you knew your figure standing about, almost naked, did not help.

A giggle you passed, “Satoru, it’s fine baby, what’re you so embarrassed about?”

That, he didn’t expect, neither did you.

A low ‘huh’ dropped from his mouth,a hardened cock hanging out for you to ogle at.

“Yes I mean,” you continued, slowly moving towards him, “it’s all…natural isn’t it? You’re a big boy now too,” your voice was sweet as honey, pulling him, reeling him in.

He watched, estranged, as you swayed your hips, moving in, pulling him—pushing him and there he lay in your bed.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“Tell me Satoru,” you whispered, nimble fingers grasping the hem that covered you—“are you all grown up? Still my big boy?”

A silent nod, your towel fell.

A smile etched across your face as you saw his mouth widen-“l-like what you see?”

A slight stutter, you were nervous too—just as him.

And it was entirely a surprise to you then, when his were the hands that grasped your hips rough—flipping the both of you over so he was on top.

Lips attached to your neck—his hands ran wild as they explored every bit of you—“So much, so so much, you’re gorgeous,”

Frenzied moans, hefty touches—it was almost as he’d been dying to touch you—and he had.

His lips moved fast—faster than his fingers, moving across every inch of you—a slight tingle you felt as wet and sloppy kisses he left across your shoulder blades, your hands tugging at the white tuft of his hair.

“So soft,” he murmured against your skin— “so fuckin pretty,” he was skillfull, almost, in the way he managed to completely disregard your needs in the moment.

Not a single brush of his fingers or crotch against your pussy—a tease.

You wanted to cry, pleasure hit you hard—and in the way he lingered seconds too long upon every scar that your husband had given you, at every bruise that you held—in the way he handled you so carefully, not as if you were fragile but as if you were his desire personified.

“Tell me, Satoru,” you snickered, at the breathy moans he let out, “how long have you waited for this,”

“Forever,” he breathed out—the crystal blue eyes finally met you then, “God forbid I just- please, please let me?” A whine he let out still, so desperate.

“Always this needy hm?”

He shook his head fast, “Only for you,”

And you knew that just there he was begging all so easily.

“Please- ple-ase,” his voice was a drag, as if afraid that he’d lose this moment all so soon, “please let me…let me touch you- feel you,”

A twinkle in your eye, “if you’re good, yeah?”

He bobbed his head at that- “on your knees for me baby,”

And that he did, so obedient, “Show me how much you’ve yearned,”

It was a dynamic, if anything—you held the control surely, and you lay naked too—sprawled out as your head rested upon the pillows steadily, his between the plush of your thighs.

An airy gasp you let out as you felt him spit upon it, “fuck you’re glistening,” he whined, “So wet from just the thought of me?”

You felt his fingers spread your folds out, he felt so cold against the warmth of your pussy, “Didn’t even need me to spit huh? But had to mark you didn’t I? Remind you that I am the one who gets you this way- has your husband ever gotten you this way huh?”

His words seemed almost feral, a growl with every word as he kept lowering his head— he focused upon your clit.

Your legs lay spread wide open for him, one his hands resting upon your thigh, rubbing soft soothing circles—while the hand finger fucked you.

His finger slipped in so easily, a groan both of you let out together, “so fucking warm I- your pussy’s pratically begging to be ruined,”

You squirmed at his words—already dumb at the way his middle and ring finger pumped inside of you,

“More please,” you moaned out, “need more,”

A smirk he held as he lowered his lips, nipping at your pussy lips, “More what Ma’am? More of what hm?”

A loud whine you let out at his word- “Fuck Toru’ not tonight, please just touch me—want you,”

Enough encouragement, in fact it was all he needed before landing his tongue flat upon your clit, swiping it back and forth upon the little nub.

“Scream my name please,” rough hands pulled at your legs—resisting you from closing your legs—“Arch your back and scream my name, let your neighbours know I’m the one in your silly fucked marriage that gets you so worked up and not that fucker,”

His words barely registered in your head—thrashing at the liable pleasure he held onto you, “Sh-it Toru’ I- right there! Yes please,”

He grinned as he looked up at your face briefly, before diving right back in, suckling at your hardened clit as his fingers prepared your cunt to be ruined by his cock.

“God I should film you being so needy for me,” another groan as his tongue lapped upon your core—“should teach em how to please the perfection you are,”

You whimpered at his words, eyes rolling back at the way he provided just the right kind of pressure- until you weren’t.

A loud whine and groan as he pulled out of your cunt, he grinned, “Want you to cum on my cock when you do — wanna feel you clamp down hard,”

You looked into his eyes, hesitant? Neither of you.

“Taste yourself,” and before you could pull away, shoved into your mouth were his two fingers as you sucked onto it—“Fuckin’ delicious,” he muttered as he pulled away the fingers too.

Needy, he wanted you needy.

Slow, he moved about, rising about and pulling you with him as he kissed your arms—“someday, I’ll leave such pretty marks on you, those are the ones you deserve,”

You bit your lips hard- he did too, as you straddled his lap—“please,” he whimpered and you giggled, “how many times do you think about this?”

All the time.

Any and everytime he was alone, just you on his cock bouncing to chase your euphoria.

You cupped his face as you stared at him, such a pretty innocent look he held—you grinned devilishly as you lined your entrance upon his tip.

"yeah. 'think about it a lot. want you to use me, please, just have me. i'm y — ohhh god, oh fuck me, y-yes please — fuck i'm yours!" his words, bound to be a mess now that you've lowered yourself to meet level with his cock.

It throbbed inside you, it looked so pretty, when you imagined sucking on it— with that curve you always felt pressing against your walls when he would be balls deep inside your pussy- just as now.

“Tell me Toru,” you but down in your lips hard, red, “how many times do you think?”

He gulped hard as he watched you move, unable to hold himself as your warmth spread all over his cock, “J-just some- sometimes, when I- I miss you, when I c-can’t get enou- oh god- can’t get enough,”

He moaned softly, head fallen aback and eyes shut close as you rode him slow, rolling your hips—it took your all to just not give in and fuck yourself dunb over his cock.

“In the shower…after- after practice,”

You giggled at his words, oh how you felt like a filthy girl in the moment, “all sweaty and dirty? Think bout fuckin me in shower?”

“Yeah…” his voice lay a rasp, “think bout you when I’m alone,”

Your words, actions—he was dizzy with pleasure, legs squirming beneath you—toes curling in pleasure and hips stuttering as he reeled in for more.

“Think of you when I fuck your daughter too,” and just at that he thrusted harshly into you, gripping your hips as he moved you fast—“you’re too slow,” he grunted.

A low moan escaped you at his words—him too.

Filthy.

Wrong.

You didn’t care.

"d-you think of me too, when- when you can’t touch it? When it- it d-doesn’t feel right?" his question almost sounded innocent, eager to hear your response.

"Course’ i do. think about my pretty boy all the time. i miss this cock so bad sometimes, 'can't get off the same with any of my toys."

He groaned at that—you could feel him twitching inside you.

11:55 p.m.

You weren’t sure when or how you lost all that time- it didn’t matter.

It was your anniversary in 5 minutes and his birthday.

Your hands grabbed his face and pulled him close—your boobs thrusted into his face, “cum with me ok? Hold on just a pretty while yeah?”

Your words were a lullaby to him, he nodded mindlessly, attaching his lips onto your nipples, swiping his tongue over your nipples.

Your soaking cunt engulfed his cock as you bounced upon it, head hung back as you chased your high—his hands kneaded your skin—one pinching your nipples while the other massaged your ass.

If you could, you’d have seen the adoration in his eyes as you fucked your self onto him—breathy moans and shy grunts, the smell of your sex wafted through the air.

Just another minute.

“S-So good to me-” He stutters, nails latching onto your skin to bounce you more aggressively on his cock as his flustered state slowly dissipates.

So close, both of you—a babbling mess underneath you,Satoru was purely pussy drunk—and just like that, the clock strung 12:00 a.m.

You both drew each other’s orgasm.

You stay there on top of him for a second, panting and heaving you both lay—nuzzling as his fingers drew circles on the small of your back.

Circles, you weren’t aware, those circles were actually his name crafted carefully upon your skin for he knew you were finally his.

“You good?”

A slight smile on your face as you asked him, he lay beside you in your bed—“Happy Birthday Toru,”

“Best birthday I’ve had,”

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