Gojo X Reader - Blog Posts

After work with Gojo Satoru

cw: satoru gojo x female!reader, consensual-somnophilia, edging, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), p in v, doggy style/face down ass up, just some rough love makin' honestly

W.C: 1.9k

MDNI

Satoru gets home late, as usual. He's got little to no will to do anything regardless of his infinite energy, sometimes he wonders what his limit would be without RCT. He doesn't dwell on it too much, a glass of water, a shower, and a new pair of clothes later he's in front of you.

Satoru can't help himself from stopping to just admire you, you're glowing with a thin sheen of sweat on you and he's positive you're fucking perfect. There's nothing he needs more when he comes home from a long day of dealing with sick old fucks than to see you all sweetly splayed out for him laying in bed soundly asleep, wearing his shirt. He thought he was burnt-out, guess you always surprise him huh? Fuck if he can't help himself from stuffing you full right there. Buuttt, he's a gentleman, which is why he's gonna prep you first.

"Need ya t'a be all nice and wet f'me first." He mumbles before kneeling in front of you, lightly tracing the outer edges of his shirt before he slips his hands under your thighs to pull you right where he wants you.

He notices you stirring, debating about waking you up. But when he spreads your thighs, he sees it. You're wearing no panties, your heat seeping past and staining your inner thighs.

"Oh. Ohhh baby, miss me that much huh? I'mma make up for all that lost time love, promise." He whispers, more to himself or your pussy than you.

Satoru wastes no time diving right in. He starts borderline making out with your cunt. It has you whining and bucking in your sleep, not that he cared, because your hole was rewarding him with globs of sickly sweet nectar, just coating his lips. He might just cum from this, he starts humping the bed as he eats you out, flicking his nose on your clit and thrusting his tongue into your pulsing pussy. He's just about gone when he feels your hand reach for his hair and pulll.

Satoru glances up at you with dilated eyes and heaving breaths, almost like he's the one getting eaten out. In your half-delirious and definitely sleepy stupor you don't even understand what you did, but you see little drops of you dripping down his chin to his shirt like condensation and you can't help but moan.

You all but leap into him for a kiss, but he holds you back, "Sorry babe, I uh, I've got some prior commitments."

Satoru pins his weight on you, physically restraining you, then he goes back in, this time straight to your clit. He wraps his lips around your nub, looking straight at you before he sucks. You almost scream, locking your legs around his head and tugging at his hair. Eyes instantly screwed shut in pleasure.

"Look at me." Satoru says, but you know him well enough to know it was more of an order. You glance down at him, his eyes almost glowing in the dark. He maintains eye contact as he spits straight into your core, watching it wink around his saliva.

You can't help but whimper as he starts pushing his spit in with his middle finger, playing you like an instrument. Your brain's riddled with pleasure, making your body comply exactly how he wants, making all your thoughts scream Satoru, making you drool as you look at him.

"Aww love, don't worry I'll take care of ya." He snickers, you barely register it because in the next second, his finger is buried to the hilt inside of you. And instead of moving, he just stays there, inside your cunt.

"S'toru please, baby please."

"Wat'cha want darling? Y'know 'm a kind man, you just gotta ask."

"Wan', want more, no need y'to"

"Need me to what? Hit this spot?" Satoru curves his finger, accurately ramming your g-spot. And once he starts? Oh he doesn't relent. Mercilessly ramming it until you just about cum. Which he takes as his cue to stop all movement and sheath his finger into you.

You sit up, "Huh, no Satoru I was gonna cum why'd you stop?" you can't help your body from the wreaking sob. Mind so foggy that there's only one thing on it, and this fucker right here took it from you.

"Now now, if it was g'nna be this easy it's not fair darling. I just worked my ass off, how 'bout you work a 'lil for this orgasm huh? Satoru tsks, smirking like a little bitch.

You're grumbling, hands balled in anger while your tears of frustration hang right on your lashes.

"You're crying so pretty f'me huh?" Satoru glances down at you as he says this, taking in the sight of your glistening pussy lips, practically speaking to him.

You roll your eyes at him, shifting on wobbly knees 'til you're in front of him and his arrogant face.

"What do you want?"

He strokes his chin, feigning thought. "Hmm, while I would appreciate food, I think I had my fill right there." And he even has the audacity to wink down at you while licking the remnants of your juices of his lips.

Then he glances down at yours, and it's like a lightbulb went off in his head with how bright he's grinning. "Yours look a little chapped there though darling, think they could use some gloss?"

You'd laugh at this in any other situation, but with the ache between your legs growing and the wet spot in his sweats, all you care about is giving Satoru what he needs.

With slightly shaky hands you pull down both his sweats and boxers in one go, having no patience for teasing. His cock springs up and practically bounces against his chest, leaving a small dribble of pre along the way.

There's quite a few titles Satoru holds, 'The Strongest', 'The Hottest' (self-proclaimed), 'Yours', but his cock? They share those titles. The light blush dusting his cheek, which in due time will go to his ears and neck adorning the tip of his cock in the very same colour. The little jerks it does, mimicking his breathing pattern. You could see his pulse quicken with how he begins to flush more, all the way down to the very tip. Your memory could rival a photograph's accuracy on this, because one thing you do not play about? How pretty Satoru and his cock are.

You're broken out of your fantasy with Satoru's giggle, "If I didn't know any better I'd guess you have a crush on me~" he manages to squeak out through another fit of giggles.

You can't help the quirk of your lips, amusement in your eyes when you decide to use this to catch him off-guard. While Satoru is still going on like some child, you envelope his head into your mouth.

His eyes scrunch up as he grabs your hair, holding you at bay before making you sink deeper. Your head bobs along as you suck him further, tonguing at the vein on the underside of his dick that has him groaning like such a slut.

"Yeahh thaaaat's it. Missed this, missed you, shit I love-fuck!" You don't let him finish as he hits the back of your throat, cheeks hollowed out to put more pressure. You gently caress his balls as he starts slowly thrusting into you. Trying to gauge your limits.

He's outright moaning now, not bashfully, but proudly. Using your mouth like a toy. And when you tongue the underside of his head? He's gone, he tenses up and whimpers.

"Shit, I- fuck." He keeps babbling nonsense as he slowly eases out of you. You don't make it any easier, prodding at his slit, kissing up and down his shaft, you both were a match made in hell.

Once he's finally all out, he draaags his cock slowly across your cheeks. Painting your face in his rich and buttery pre, giving your lips the gloss and shine just like he promised. And you? You take it, sat there like a doll for him as you're both catching your breaths.

"Turn around, all 4's."

"What?"

"All 4's, now."

You scramble to get into position, your focus on one thing and one thing only. Satoru peels back the fabric sticking to you, then holding you still as he almost inspects you. He drags his eyes over your dripping slit, guaranteed to make a mess of the sheets. He spreads your folds apart and has a looong sniff.

"Satoru."

He just chuckles, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't as desperate as you, but he just can't help himself from playing with you a bit more.He sinks two fingers into you, watching the way you're hips jerk, as if asking him to hurry up. The second he's buried to the hilt you're finished.

"Please-" He twists his fingers to interrupt you, successfully shutting down your train of thought as it's occupied by his long fingers burning into your soft spots.

"Fuuck, please jus' shit please keep going" You beg him, repeating the same scene over again while looking at him with a dazed look in your glossy eyes.

Satoru coos at you with honeyed words, luring you further in. He makes such a slick mess out of you, the squelching wetness echoing in the silent room. And then suddenly, he sinks another finger, while using his thumb to draw messy circles on your clit. He's going so fast your hands collapse under you, leaving you writhing into the pillow.

"S'too much please wait jus'-"

"Nah. First it wasn't enough, now 's 'too much'? Make up your mind baby."

He has you seeing stars in no time, leaving your legs quivering because he just doesn't stop. Your poor pussy leaking and making a mess as you're forced to just lay there and take it. By the time you come down from your high, your thighs, Satoru's hand, and the sheets are soaked. While you're still reeling in oversensitivity, you feel Satoru line himself up with you, his tip leaving small pecks along your pussy lips.

"Nghh- S'sensitive, 'toru wait-"

"Come on baby, you can take it yeah? I know you're a good girl f'me ain'tcha?"

You wanna say no, you wanna cry and insist you can't take it, but instead you obediently arch your back and your pussy opens up invitingly for him. There's only one brain cell at use currently in your body, and it's located in your pussy.

Satoru hammers into you like a man possessed, you wouldn't be surprised if he was. He's hitting you everywhere, and he doesn't plan on stopping anytime soon.

"This is what I want. None of that curses bullshit, none of those clanhead bitches. Jus' my favourite girl and her cunt."

He can't stop himself, Satoru is notoriously bad with his words, and often his actions can't convey the depth of his feelings. But when he's fucking you? He's taking all that he has, feels, has ever been and will ever be and stuffing it so deep in you that your body understands. It understands his love, it understands his pain, and it understands him.

So no you won't blame Satoru when he wrings another orgasm out of you, leaving you shaking. You won't blame him when he stuffs you so full, reaching places you didn't even know existed and makes you walk with a limp. You won't blame him when he's rendered you useless and turned you into mush, because that's who Satoru is and how he loves.

And he knows you love him because you're ready to do it all over again in a heartbeat.

A.N: this man has possessed me like a vice and made me pump this out in two hours. I'm posting this on my fucking phone because my laptop is glitching, I'm hella mad. The things I do for you Satoru. Regardless, opinions, discussion, even criticism is appreciated, thank you.

Tutor!Gojo Headcannons

cw: satoru gojo x fem reader, nerdjo, university au, gojo is a gifted kid, you are a bimbo, physics major gojo, doctorate gojo, cheerleader reader, fingering, grinding, dry humping, use of petnames

kinda just had a blurb and wrote this drabble, i never write so the punctuation lord. idk i need this and ik i'll pass with flying colours.

MDNI

cheerleader!reader who's easily capable of landing on top of the pyramid but has no idea how to write the formula for what she did.

cheerleader!reader whose sports scholarship is barely holding on with her current grades, leaving her no choice but to accept her professor's recommendation for a tutor.

tutor!gojo who is the same age as you but getting his PhD right now.

tutor!gojo who calmly and patiently teaches you each and every concept from the beginning again, entertaining all your questions.

tutor!gojo who clears up way more than two hours a week because he needs to see you you need it.

tutor!gojo who suggests sessions right after your cheer practice so that he gets to see you in that slutty lil' uniform your brain is 'sharper'.

tutor!gojo who can't bear the fact that you're sitting all dolled up for him in your mini skirt and liner, huffing and squirming with every problem you don't get.

tutor!gojo who loves riling you up by slowly tracing the pencils underneath your skirt when you space out or pinching at your waist when you make a mistake.

tutor!gojo who adores seeing you so flustered that he sets up a reward system, making you fall right into his arms.

tutor!gojo who starts off with small words of praise like "good girl" "attagirl" "that's my girl".

tutor!gojo who then starts reprimanding your mistakes by doing the sum over again with his hand enveloping yours and making you trace the words.

tutor!gojo who has you sit on his lap for 'overlooking your work better', but this just leaves you grinding on his thigh with your barely there shorts as you try and solve these problems.

tutor!gojo who slowly bumps his leg up and down to help you, sometimes moving his own hips by accident.

tutor!gojo who grabs your hips with his massive hands, engulfing them as he glides them back and forth, dragging you like a doll on him.

tutor!gojo who then comes up to your ear and whispers "haan- that's it, check the directions of the waves again" as you mewl pathetically writhing on him.

tutor!gojo who has you sprawled out on his desk before your final exam for the semester, three fingers deep in you as you try to solve a paper

"p-please right there, jus' ah-" you moan as his fingers scissor your folds apart.

gojo looks at you with a condescending grin before he tsks, "baby you know the deal, you get to cum when you answer all the questions right."

"b-but 's not fair." you whine out as his fingers squelch loudly in your tight wet heat.

"sweetheart come on," he sighs at you "i know my girl, if you weren't so slutty you'd have been done long ago"

"can't, shit, can't i need more please, i can't focus." you beg him with all but tears in your eyes.

"come on love, 3 more questions yeah? you solve 'em right maybe i'll even give you more than jus' my fingers" he teases, pulling your thighs so that he's situated deeper inside you.

you cry out at the feeling, but before you can get a word in he speaks again "if not guess i h've to keep edgin' you" he coos into your ear and now the tears flow.

don't repost, plagiarize, or copy ig.

you loved playing roblox.

seriously, your own boyfriend even questioned him which you loved more.

one day, he notices the app on his phone.

@_ilovemyirlwaifu

why the hell was that his username??

"honey? can you come here for a second?"

"yeah?"

he shoved the phone in your face with a frown that looks like it says 'fix it. now.'

but you dont, inviting him to play with you instead. he sighs and friends you.

"dandys world? this is childs play-"

"honey the monsters got me!"

"love of my life can you pretty please heal me?"

"im on one heart-"

"woah look how fast im going!"

"these damn machines dont work"

it was cute to see your boyfriend bonding with you, even if it was a little frustrating for him.

~

with yuji, gojo, geto, and your other faves<3

~

masterlist

~

created by sunnywrotethis☆

2025

do not repost without permission, reblogs are okay

In Another Life I'm Sure It Was Better

fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

characters: Satoru Gojo, Yuji Itadori, Choso Kamo, GN!Reader

summary and warnings: grief, angst, lost, use of Y/N • how they deal with your death

title inspired by PRIDE. - Kendrick Lamar

masterlist

Gojo

It was his fault. It was because of him you that were dead.

He stared at your lifeless body laying in his bed, running his fingers over your palm. He didn't like the fact he couldn't feel your pulse anymore, and he despised that you were as foolish as to try to save him, when you only led yourself to your own end. He didn't need help. But he loved that you wanted to protect him so badly. He wondered why he chose to keep your body instead of giving you the proper burial you deserved.

Maybe he was selfish.

He wanted to see your eyes staring up at him and that stupid grin (that he adored) you gave him when you woke up. He just wanted you back. But you weren't ever going to show him your beautiful smile ever again.

He was supposed to be the strongest.

He was supposed to protect you.

Yet he sits here, crying and holding your corpse that was embroidered with a blissful expression, the warmth of your hand faded from this awful planet.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Yuji

This wasn't supposed to happen.

He held you, or rather what was left of you, to his chest.

"C'mon, Y/N. This isn't funny."

It wasn't this time, not anymore. He was used to you giggling and pushing him off of you with a 'Yuji! It was a joke!' but you weren't playing dead anymore. You really weren't alive.

"This isn't... This isn't okay. Fushiguro and Kugisaki are gonna scold us for being gone so long."

They were, usually. Kugisaki teased you two and made comments about how you were both busy making out, and Fushiguro just hit you both on the head. But if you weren't there then they would figure out what happened. You were always next to Yuji.

"...I'm sorry. I'll meet you later, yeah?"

He buried you in the flower field near the school. He knew you would be happy there.

That was where you first met him.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Choso

People say death comes easy once your used to it.

But this was different. You weren't meant to die.

Blood was on his hands, but it was the only time he wasn't expecting it. It wasn't because of his technique.

He hated red. He hated that the color strikes through your body like an abstract painting that was already beautiful. He wishes it was a dream that he could wake up from, and see your gorgeous body without a stain on it.

Yet he couldn't.

"My love?"

His call was unanswered as he stared at your weightless body. The death happened so fast you didn't even get a chance to close your eyes. Better than having a slow one, he supposed. If you were going to leave you would deserve a quick ending. He would hate to see you suffer in your final moments.

With a kiss to your forehead, he folds your hands together and leaves you by your family's burial shrine. Yuki had once told him that bodies take a while to decay, so he left you there for a few months, and burned your remainings. He has to shut down his tears when he walks by the vase filled with your ashes every day.

But at least you were still with him, even in death.

----------------------------------------------------------

created by sunnywrotethis☆

2025

do not repost without permission, reblogs are okay

One For The Money, Two For The Show

characters: Satoru Gojo x Suguru Geto x Toji Fushiguro x GN!Reader

summary and warnings: grown ass men acting like dogs🙏🙏, poly relationship, they/them pronouns for reader, swearing

title inspired by Two - bbno$

masterlist

Having three partners was... a lot to say the least.

First, you have Satoru Gojo, the strongest, but also the clingest. Can't leave you alone for one second.

"Baby? It's hug time!~"

"Let's watch a movie, baby!"

"Oh, you're back! I missed you so, so, so, so, so, so much!"

Secondly, Suguru Geto, a stubborn and selfish prick. He acted like he was the only one you were dating.

"Hands off, Satoru. Mine. My partner."

"That guy just looked at you... Shall I send a curse after him?"

"Give me them, Toji. Sweetheart wants my love."

And finally, Toji Fushiguro, who couldn't be more of a tsundere. But you found his frown cute.

"Why are ya gettin' up so early, sugar? It's the weekend. You got insomnia or somethin'?"

"Don't go off to work without givin' me a kiss, dumbass."

"Why the hell would I let ya paint my nails?"

...

"Is there black nail polish?"

It was cute when you got home from work late and they were all cuddled up together on the bed though. Satoru was drooling while Suguru's face was pressed against his cheek as if he fell asleep while kissing Satoru, one of Toji's arms was spread out like it was waiting for someone to join them.

----------------------------------------------------------

created by sunnywrotethis☆

2025

do not repost without permission, reblogs are okay

sunnywrotethis masterlist!

GUIDE:

red text = coming soon

blue text = series (UNFINISHED)

purple text = series (FINISHED)

green text = one-shot

pink text = drabble

orange text: long work

+-+-+-+-+-+-+

JUJUTSU KAISEN:

gojo misses geto, they reunite, and life is okay again

merman gojo x human suguru (no curses au)

yuji has a weird love for lemons, megumi finds it interesting

satosugu road trip hell yeahh

sukuna x gojo who runs away and finds sukuna, but sukuna offers gojo to join him

soft sukuna x shy gojo drabble

nerd gojo x bully suguru drabble

gojo x geto x sukuna beach date

gojo sfw alphabet

sukugo "scars that arent on me" drabble

sukuna makes a yo mama joke

hybrid satosugu who show up at your door (easter special 2025)

poly relationship w gojo geto and toji

how gojo yuji and choso deal with you dying

soft sukuna x gn reader (post chap 236)

he plays roblox w you (gn reader)

MOUTHWASHING

captain curly x paranoid reader

SAIKI K:

soft saiki headcannons

THE SUMMER HIKARU DIED

yoshikis subconscious misses hikaru too

LOVEJOY / WILBUR SOOT:

wilbur cuddle headcannons

nerd wilbur x nerd reader who both really like pokemon

lovejoy x reader (could be platonic or romantic) where you go on a tour with them

Satoru Gojo SFW alphabet🩵

ive been gone for a few days so here ya go

warnings for L and T: suggestive themes

masterlist

A - Affection (How affectionate are they?)

Gojo is very affectionate towards you. He likes giving you small pecks on the cheek and holding hands in public to show that you're his and his only. When you're not in public, he's still circling around you like a hawk. He likes trying to make you food (you both know he can't cook, so when he whines that he somehow burnt the water, you have to cook with him. But he wouldn't have it any other way.)

B - Best Friend (How did the relationship start?)

You met Gojo when you started talking to Geto. Gojo seemed to always linger around, behind Geto's back or just pestering him about how he was 'the strongest'. When you two first started having conversations, your friendship slowly grew. After Geto left it was only you and him. And you both stuck together. He was the one to confess to you first.

C - Cuddling (Do they like cuddling? How would they hold you?)

Gojo LOVES cuddling with you. Man will always make sure your in his arms while falling asleep (even if it means moving you to his lap when you're already half asleep. He believes that you need to be asleep with him or he'll die.). He likes when you slot one of your legs between both of his and move his hand to caress your cheek. You tend to rest your head between his shoulder and his free arm- except its not so free now.

D - Dates (Where do they like taking you on dates?)

Gojo will often tell you to sit on his lap and then warp to the middle of the sky. It scared you at first, but you got used to it. He sets his head on your shoulder and holds one of your hands while doing it, tilting both of you back carefully as you stargaze together. Sometimes you fall asleep and he teleports back to the bed so you can rest in each other's arms.

E - Ending (If they had to break up with they're partner, how would they do it?)

Gojo would try to fight the tears (keyword: try. A few droplets slipped out). He would stutter while he tried to explain why this wouldn't work. He never truly wanted this at all, he never wanted to leave you. After you two parted ways, he cried himself to sleep. Life was like torture ever since he walked out your door for the last time.

F - Fiance (How would they propose?)

Gojo, being the huge idiot he is, proposed to you while you were half asleep. You were laying on his chest with his finger twirling in your hair. Your eyes closed, but he woke you back up. He picked up your hand and slipped the ring on slowly. The metal felt cold, you hissed and opened your eyes, but they only widened further. Long story short, you said yes.

G - Gentle (How gentle are they?)

He's pretty careful with you, but you guys like to play-wrestle sometimes. Wether it's him trying to steal your phone or him grabbing the last bag of goldfish, you guys always end up on the floor. And let's just say he doesn't get tired easily, so you have to fight until your last breath if you try to sneak his bag of sweets out of the pantry. Otherwise, he treats you like a painting from the Renaissance era. You're his most prized possession. Period.

H - Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they hug you? How do they hug?)

Don't test his hugging game. Even the smallest frown from you gets you the biggest bear hug imaginable. He always has his arms around you, no doubt. It keeps everyone away too! You're his, as I've stated. That's the way it's gonna stay. When you need comfort, his hugs are a little loose, but he keeps you as close to him as possible. When it's just a regular hug, he squeezes you tight and makes sure you're not able to move, that way he can make sure you get every ounce of his love into you. He hugs you a lot. Not a day without one.

I - I love you (How do they say the L word?)

He's really open about 'I love you's. In public it's not much. In private, almost every hour. If someone gets a bit too close for his liking, he says it immediately and wraps his arms around your waist. He likes muttering it into your ear before you both fall asleep. He thinks it'll make you dream about him.

J - Jealousy (How jealous do they get)

Boy is hella jealous. If a stranger looks at you for more than five seconds, he makes sure they'll never be able to look that direction again. Even if it's just a kid that tells you you're pretty, he'll immediately teleport you both. He even gets jealous around your parents. In public, he makes sure he's always touching you so everybody around knows you're his partner. You think it's embarrassing. Shopping trips? He goes with you. Family meetings? He's there. Taking a walk? At your side.

K - Kisses (What are their kisses like? How often do they kiss you?)

Oh man, don't even get me started. Kisses all the time. No escape from them at all. He likes to give you french kisses and pecks on your neck, but in return you must give him a kiss back. It's like a rule. Once you hit the three-month point in your relationship, you were bombarded with kisses randomly every day.

L - Little ones (Would they want to have children with you? What kind of parent would they be like?)

Female reader: He's tried so many times. You wanted it too, but you always made him pull out because you were scared of pregnancy. Whenever you felt sorry, he would kiss your problems away and talk about how he doesn't even care, as long as he had you. However, he would be a laid-back dad I feel. Sneaks sweets into the grocery cart even when you say no to your child I bet.

Male reader: You've had the conversation so many times. But it was like he was deaf whenever you told him that you were infertile. Gojo pokes at your stomach during aftercare, kissing it and whispering things to it as if you were magically gonna have a kid. You felt bad, but he really doesn't mind. You two could always adopt a kid.

M - Morning (What are mornings with them like?)

He drools. A lot. Sometimes you wake up and your own hand smells like his morning breath (fyi, it does not smell like cotton candy). If he wakes up before you, he kisses you awake and smiles like an idiot when you scold him for not letting you have your beauty rest. Or he smiles when he feels your arms wrap around his waist while he's making morning coffee for you both. When you wake up before him, you let him sleep in and he gets pouty thinking that you don't want him to be awake with you. He sleeps shirtless, change my mind.

N - Night (How do nights spent with them go?)

Sleepy murmurs and sluggish kisses are the only sounds heard. You're in his arms, letting him kiss your shoulders carefully. Occasionally it's you kissing his collarbone. The distance between you and him is non-existent. Soft 'I love you's and 'I love you too's are spread around. When he reaches to turn off the light, you caress his hand in yours the second it comes back. It's just you and him in those moments. It's just your love and his, even if you both are submerged by slumber.

O - Open (When do they start to reveal their past?)

He was pretty open with you from the start. He talked about his clan life, how everyone treated him, what his days were like, etc. You just nodded and let him talk. He would smile at you when he was done and assure you he was okay now, but you always made sure that was true.

P - i skipped this one cuz i felt it was boring, my bad ig

Q - Quiz (How much do they remember about you?)

He does not let a word slip from your mouth without notice. He loves listening to you talk about yourself. That new horror game you liked? Knew every character. The island simulator game you play on your switch? Name was on the top of his head. That one character you would never stop obsessing over? He memorized every fact about them. He knows your favorite color, fruit, flower, shape, and constellation.

R - Remember (What's their favorite memory with you?)

He took you to a sakura blossom garden. The smile on your face was etched into his mind, every one of your features was sculpted into his memory. He knew you loved blossoms, so for Valentine's he took you here. You looked so beautiful and happy while dancing amongst the garden with him. He'll make sure he remembers that day forever.

S - Security (it's basically the same as J so uh yeah)

T - Try (How much effort do they put into dates and anniversaries?)

He goes all out. Every date is nothing below your expectations. He likes taking you out to fancy restaurants and buys you a bouquet of your favorite flowers. And yes, he pays. For your anniversaries he doesn't try as hard. He just likes to spend the whole day with you, which means he has to have a hand on you the entire time. You cook dinner together and sleep as close as you can. He makes sure you're happy, and if you're not smiling the entire time then he makes it up to you the next day (ifykyk).

U - Ugly (What are some bad habits of theirs?)

His schedule. He'd rather kill himself then be late for you, but it's hard with the job he has. You understand though. If he's ever late, he runs into the bedroom and slams himself on top of you to give you as many apology kisses as possible. He despises leaving his baby girl/baby boy alone</3

V - Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Honestly he could give less of a damn. But if it's a date he goes all out. He hated wearing suits, so he'll just wear something traditional. Otherwise he likes stealing your Minecraft pajama bottoms and your hair clips so he doesn't have to brush it.

W - Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

YES. period. He tries to tough himself up and convince he's okay without you whenever you go to the grocery store, but when you get back he's waiting on the couch and holding your pillow to his chest. Just a little warning: if you don't give him kisses he'll never allow you to eat his candy ever again. Boys will be boys/lh

X - Xtra (A random headcannon for them)

he likes playing hello kitty island adventure with you<3 and animal crossing<33 and minecraft(you place your beds together)<333 and fortnite so he can release his rage from the guy who stared at you a lil too long out on any player he sees within a five mile distance.

Yuck (What don't they like in a partner?)

If you're homophobic, racist, or basically the average dni criteria then I'm sorry girlie/boyie but you're cooked

Zzz (What are some sleep habits of theirs?)

Will cling onto you like his life is on the line. I wouldn't say he snores loudly but he does have a little bit of the honk mi mi mi mi mi's. If you fall asleep before him, he will stare at you with those precious blue flashlights until he decides he's had enough of your beauty (aka never but y'know he has to get sleep somehow).

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created by sunnywrotethis☆

2025

do not repost without permission, reblogs are okay

“DIRTY LAUNDRY” — 𝑔𝑜𝒿𝑜 𝓈𝒶𝓉ෆ𝓇𝓊

[ ᴛᴡ ]・mdni, fem!reader, 4.8k wc (didn’t plan for that ;-;), established relationship (you’re married :D), satoru being forced to do household chores (the horror), your husband is sick in the head...for YOU, panty sniffing, inappropriate use of underwear, masturbation, no p in v, domestic and disgustingly sweet i would say (sorry heh), lowkey selfship coded bc i would so go off on this man to do work around the house LOL, extra of the aftermath at the end (satoru gets in trouble), not much banter + more so yelling (on your part aha), the only person he fears in the world is YOU, pretenses may be messed up

[ ᴀ/ɴ ]・divider by @/cafekitsune

In a whole year, there is only one day out of all the three hundred and sixty five days during which the earth completes its entire revolution around the sun that Gojo Satoru, the Strongest, despises with a passion — Cleaning Day.

No, there is not a designated day around the world in which all people drop whatever they are doing just to deep clean their entire house, but in the Gojo household, unfortunately, there is. And maybe it is because you, his wife, are his world, so the event feels bigger than it actually is. Though, even with this seemingly romantic sentiment, the poor man feels shivers run down his spine just thinking about what was soon to come.

Do not get him wrong — Satoru loves his home, and only because you occupy the space and fill it with your warmth through every smile you grace him with. He loves how you adorn and furnish it, how you make it yours as the rightful Mrs. Gojo. There was not a single area which did not have the trace and essence of you, his darling wife. Your husband takes into account everything you do, and therefore, notices even the smallest things out of place. He is fulfilled and endeared with the knowledge that his woman has been there, and his woman has indeed made the decision that the strange ball decor you are so fond of and chose to put in a designated area on the shelf in the hallway would no longer be in its usual spot, but five inches to the right of it — and simply because you wanted it there.

You were a little weird like that, but it filled him with immense joy that you were weird about the place you share together and call home. And he, in turn, is very weird about you — something he will prove time and time again. You have a certain flair, a touch that lingers around this place that is so uniquely you. This, unfortunately, also applies to cleaning just the same. Most people have normal fears — spiders, heights, the dark. But Gojo Satoru’s is firstly, his wife, and secondly, a little black smiley face drawn in sharpie with the words ‘Cleaning Day!’ written right beside it which you mark on the calendar to remember. In all truth, he thinks the color of the marker you chose is symbolic in representing the terror and trauma that comes with the day.

Okay, maybe he’s being a little dramatic, but your dearest husband could be walking past the wall where the calendar was hung — and then? His body will have a visceral reaction. He’ll become visibly tense and turn pale. He doesn’t even have to look, he can feel its presence like a ghost. It is accurate if he does say so himself, because that is what Cleaning Day is to him — a ghost, a shadow come to torment him, always lurking and lingering before slowly but surely approaching before you even realize it.

Even so, no matter how much distaste your husband holds towards something so inanimate — there is not a single day that goes by where he does not love and adore you to the fullest. Perhaps that is why you put up with him all the time, because you know the extent of his love for you even when he’s being absolutely insufferable (which he knows himself is all the time). But he also knows this — whenever he is with you, anything and everything is somehow bearable. When he’s by your side and heeding your commands, he is the happiest, and Satoru has no problem spending the rest of his life being told what to do by you and you alone... even if it’s chores too, he guesses.

Though, even with that in mind, still, another thing he didn’t look forward to today, to top it all off, is the tensions that came between you two because of all the stress — and not the hot kind!

“Honey,” you peek in, calling out to your husband by the doorway of your shared bedroom, drawing his attention with your saccharinely soft voice.

There it is.

The trap.

Satoru prepares himself, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t wanna!”, he whines back almost immediately, hiding under the cozy covers that smelt like you, hoping the bed would suck him right in and he’d disappear. You hadn’t spoken on your true intentions yet, trying to butter him up first. It wouldn’t work though because he knew, he always knew.

Your smile strains into something unnatural and scary.

“Stop playing around and get up!” You snap, dropping the act, approaching quicker than the speed of light and ripping the blankets off of him, annoyed you had to play this game of cat and mouse every single time.

Satoru flinches at your tone in exaggeration, straightening up and out of bed like a soldier called to duty. You roll your eyes at his antics. Why did he always feel the need to be so dramatic? Actually, never mind — this was your husband you were talking about.

Crossing your arms, you give him a scrutinizing once-over which would usually have his dick up in no time (it still does) before heaving out a sigh, turning on your heel gracefully as you do and padding out of the bedroom and down the hall, expecting him to follow. He does, albeit, like a kicked puppy rather than the powerful sorcerer everyone knows him to be, and all because of his very, very mean wife — who wasn’t mean all the time, just specifically when he was being lazy or leaving his stinky socks around the house.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You tut in disapproval. Satoru can still tell you care, from the way your brows knit together and your eyes soften just a bit at his fitful demeanor. Your voice grows a tad gentler now. “You’re in charge of the laundry, okay? I left the basket over there —”, you point somewhere to the ground, assigning him with his own special task, but he finds himself barely paying attention to anything (except for your ass that was swaying rather temptingly in front of him).

Cerulean blue stares after you, and he opts for hugging himself like the very definition of a pouty child who had gotten a rather harsh scolding from his parents, sliding his way childishly towards the living space, his Cinnamoroll slippers chafing loudly against the floors. White brows furrow, and Satoru’s eyes widen with his classic pitiful look when you turn your attention to the carpets, switching on that dreadfully loud machine which has even the cat running leaps around the house in fear (of your wrath and said machine). He couldn’t help but be on the same page with his sworn enemy more than today.

“Stupid laundry…”, he whispers to himself, peeking at you from the corner of his eye right after the words leave his mouth to make sure you didn’t hear him over the noise. Heh, can’t be too careful — you tend to have selective hearing.

Flopping side to side theatrically, he makes his way over to the full laundry basket on the floor, lifting it up effortlessly. Satoru looks over at you, pout deepening and jutted lip growing more pronounced by the second as he glares half-heartedly at your back, sending you waves telepathically to turn around and watch as you force your distressed lover to perform labor. It melts away rather quickly, however, his blue gaze softening so easily against his will as he watches you fiddle around, completely in the zone, maneuvering the expanse of the living room with the vacuum in hand, paying him no mind.

The basket almost slips out of his hands as he admires the sight of you performing such a menial task. Honestly, Satoru could stand here and watch you for hours and hours and hours, even if you were doing nothing. But that’s also the thing, you are never doing nothing. You are living and breathing, existing as his wife, and you do it beautifully. Hair messy and clothes shabby, even in your rage — you were the definition of perfection. How could someone have such a powerful hold over him, he could never begin to understand. The love you both hold for each other was far from simple, so perhaps it has something to do with that. It’s like every thought flies out of his head when you fall into his sights like an angel, and Satoru, well, Satoru just goes dumb.

He waits there like an idiot for a couple more moments, taking advantage of the seconds until you turn around and likely scream at him for standing around and wasting time, eyes glued to your figure, tracing all over you, from the top of your head to your sock-clad feet (he wonders if you can feel him touching you with only his gaze), before eventually coming back down to earth.

With a serene sigh and acceptance on his face, Satoru relents, coming to terms with the fact you won’t look back at him and change your mind about him doing chores, the very word leaving a bad taste in his mouth, no matter how big his puppy dog eyes are that he throws in your direction (you were always a cat person anyway). He has That Look, the one that says — ‘Even in my impatience, I will listen’. He can never fight with you, because you are always right. If you say it’s his job to do the damn laundry, then it is. And with that, he gives you one last glance for good measure, sights pointedly lingering on your derrière, before turning and heading straight to the laundry room (taking his damn sweet time while at it).

Setting the basket down on the counter, your dutiful husband sifts through the laundry to separate the clothes into two piles like you taught him that one time. Something about the white clothes getting stained and ruined if they get washed with the dyed fabrics. He didn’t really know about that type of stuff, but he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of your scorn by fucking this up, so he just followed your instructions.

Truthfully, Satoru didn’t understand you at times (though, he supposes he never will). Why would you waste your time on tedious things like cleaning when he could hire help to get it done for the both of you? It’s been that way since he was a child, so he was used to the lifestyle until you came along. He is not lacking in money, and you could finally catch a break instead of complaining about your back all the time . . . Or maybe you like playing as his little housewife. The thought brings his infamous cocky grin to his face before it quickly drops, nose scrunched in disgust at a rather unpleasant smell wafting into his nostrils. 

“What the —”

Oh, it was just his socks.

Satoru grumbles to himself, annoyed and muttering under his breath, barely able to hear himself over the vaccuming in the other room, going on his usual spiel about how much he hates today (and how much he hates his stinky socks — and he knows you wouldn’t disagree with that sentiment), which he wouldn’t have the same confidence saying directly to your face as he continues to dig through the vast mountain of clothes. He releases a long, drawn out sigh, deft fingers hooking into soft fabrics until he pauses, spotting something rather interesting in the pile.

“Eh? What do we have here?”

Taking his arm out from the bin, Satoru’s face lights up with curiosity as he pulls out a cute, pink, strawberry-patterned number with a small bow sewn into the front hem, holding it up to the light, a cheeky glint in his eye. First, his sights dart across the room, waiting for you to pop up around the corner and start berating him for being a pervert at a time like this.

When you don’t, he officially deems it safe, turning his attention back to what was important. He pinches the straps and examines them from every possible angle, a sly smile creeping on his face. He shuts one eye, making optimal use out of the other, intently focused. He has never been more serious about anything. In fact, if he had a tiny magnifying glass in his pocket, it’d be used for moments like this — for him to be weird about his wife’s dirty underwear.

“Oops, I think I might have found something that doesn’t belong to me.~”, he chirps.

Cerulean eyes inspect the (adorable) piece of fabric, and out of instinct, Satoru’s gaze falls on the subtle stains on the seat of the panties, and his smile grows even wider into something cheshire and menacing. He can’t help but let out a low, impressed whistle, eyes twinkling mischievously. Thick fingers trace the stains on the tiny gusset, amusement written all over his face. He giggles to himself.

“Hehe, this is so... cute. Why haven’t I seen these before?”, he inquires to himself with pursed lips, voice laced with feigned innocence as he bats his lashes. Why would you hide these from him? It’s the only possible conclusion he could get to. He’s certain he is well informed in every pair of undies you own — lacey, granny, g-string, thong (and you look unbelievably sexy in all of them). Did you know he’d be gross about these too? Well, you were right.

Satoru slingshots them across the room, and they make a little ping! sound as they hit one of the machines. He repeats the action a few more times but grows tired of it after a few minutes. Next, he tries them on for funsies. But his face soon falls, his pouty expression returning as he tries to squeeze his large frame into them.

“Geez, I’m not that big.”

He wiggles his hips, trying to make them fit, but they’re just too small. He looks down at himself, a mixture of disappointment and amusement on his face, before letting out a loud sigh.

“Aw, no fair! These were supposed to be cute on me too...”

Satoru huffs even more, trying to adjust them so they sit more comfortably, but it’s a lost cause. They were too tight on him, and he’s peeved as well as a little offended he can’t fit into his wife’s underwear like you can his. So, he takes them off, almost tripping over his long legs that get stuck in the holes, before holding them up to his face.

“Don’t tell anyone I did that, okay?”, he whispers to the flimsy cloth in sworn secrecy.

Satoru twirls the panties around his finger, the fabric wrapping around it like a ribbon. The man grows bored, forgetting what he’s in there for in the first place, lips puckered in thought. He spins them in circles, whistling to himself as he leans against the shelf before pausing abruptly. He blinks. An idea pops in his head. He stares at the strawberry-pattern, eyes traveling from the little bow to the sheer white stain. Once again, he looks around the laundry room, ensuring he’s still alone, before slowly bringing the pair close to his face, his twitching nose almost grazing the soft fabric. With caution, he takes a deep sniff, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhales the scent, a throaty moan escaping his lips.

Oh. Yeah. That’s the stuff.

He takes another inhale, face buried in the fabric. He lets out a low, guttural groan, cock throbbing in his pants instantaneously, an immediate reaction, his entire body tensing as the aroma overwhelms him. He goes for another whiff, and then another, his nose pressed firmly against the thin cloth, his breathing growing ragged, becoming intoxicated on you.

Satoru hears the vacuum shut off in the distance and his eyes shoot open, face flushed with arousal and adrenaline. He pulls the panties away from his face with a shaky hand, eyes dilated and hazy with uncontrollable desire. Quickly clutching his treasure close to his chest right over where his heart is thumping loudly against his ribs as if trying to hide them from view — he waits, frozen in place, before he hears it rumbling to life again. A sigh of relief leaves his lips.

He looks down at them again, his gaze lingering on the wet spots before he brings them to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick the discharge off the fabric. His eyes roll back into his head, a loud pornographic moan escaping his lips as the taste explodes on his tongue. He starts licking faster like it’s his favorite popsicle, practically shoving the whole thing into his mouth to get every drop of your dried juices off it.

“Mmm...”, Satoru whines. “O-oh no... This is...” A shaky breath. “— really bad...” He pants, whispering to himself in a strained voice.

Satoru’s grip on the panties tightens possessively. His breath quickens, cock twitching in his pants the more he breathes in your scent. Those blue eyes are half-lidded, dark and clouded with something primal — a hunger he only gets with you. He pulls the little number out of his mouth, his breathing heavy, a thin strand of saliva connecting them to his lips. He wants nothing more than to taste more of you directly from the source.

A hand flies to his crotch, and he rubs, his cock straining against his grey sweatpants, leaking pre-cum like a broken faucet. The taste of you is driving him insane, and he reminisces on the numerous times he’s buried his face between your legs and ate you out like a man starved, wishing so badly he could do it right now.

Satoru’s muffled sounds grow louder, but it is nothing in comparison to the noisy vacuum in the background — his hand moving frantically against his clothed cock. He’s in a complete daze. He wants more, so much more. He wants to feel your warm cunt wrapped around his cock, squeezing him tightly. Wants to hear your cries and screams of pleasure, and most of all — to see your face twisted in ecstasy as he makes you cum over and over again like the mess you are beneath him when he takes you every night.

With that, your husband rips your panties out of his mouth, drool running down his chin, quickly freeing his massive cock, pre weeping from the tip in globs. He takes the measly cloth, wrapping it around his shaft, using it like a makeshift fleshlight. He starts stroking himself, grunting and groaning loudly as he fucks your underwear. His breathing grows heavier, cheeks pink, eyes glassy, his balls tightening up, ready to explode at any moment.

Satoru’s strokes become faster and faster, his hips bucking wildly as he thrusts into your panties like a madman. The small room fills with the lewd schlicking of his cock and his guttural, borderline filthy sounds. Standing there, he imagines how it would feel to have your hot, tight cunt clenching around his cock instead of this flimsy piece of fabric. Your husband could just go over to where you were now, to the real thing, and bend you over and fuck the attitude and temper out of you. He grits his teeth, practicing self control.

Suddenly, your voice rings out, calling for him over the loud vibrations of the machine. He stills, a pounding in his ears as he holds his breath before he starts stroking himself again at a pace. He could get caught, but that knowledge only serves in making the whole situation hotter, his hand moving even faster as he tries to stifle his grunts. The sound of your voice fuels him, and he can feel himself getting closer to the edge, the thrill of you walking in sending a shiver down his spine and straight to his cock, the massive thing twitching and bobbing in his hold.

Another “Satoru!”, and he leaks.

“A-ah! I’m coming, fuck!” 

And just like he said he would, Satoru cums, his cock erupting like a geyser, thick ropes of hot, sticky seed shooting out of him. He shudders violently, the orgasm hitting him hard, mind going completely blank from the sheer intensity of it all. The only thing on his mind is you. Your husband whimpers loudly, your name tumbling heedlessly out of his lips over and over again like a prayer, giving more energy into the hand working his cock than any chore he’s ever done in his life.

“Oh god… oh god!”

“What?!”, you yell back to him in confusion, blissfully unaware as your voice drowns out into background noise.

Satoru continues to ejaculate, coating your underwear in a thick layer of his white fluid. He keeps thrusting into the makeshift fleshlight, milking himself dry, his entire body trembling. He moans your name again, his cock twitching violently as he pumps more and more out and the fabric soaks it up greedily just like your cunt would, legs going weak and numb from right under him due to the sheer intensity of his orgasm. Meanwhile, you continue to vacuum in the living room, none the wiser.

His movements eventually come to a full stop, sighing in satisfaction with a hoot, staring at your now messy pair of panties. The idiot admires his handiwork with a perverted sense of pride, a wide goofy grin on his face, wiping his slicked cock with them, smearing more of his mess onto it as he shivers at the oversensitivity.

You shout again over the vacuum from the other room, causing him to yelp in surprise. “Putting the clothes in the washing machine should not take that long!” He quickly scrambles to clean himself up, making himself presentable by adjusting his pants, hiding your soiled panties beneath the other clothes before he makes his way to you.

Satoru strolls back into the living room, whistling in satisfaction to himself, hands in the pockets of his sweats, trying to act casual and pretend like he wasn’t just doing the nastiest thing imaginable in the laundry room with your underwear. You stop vacuuming and turn to him, throwing him a scathing look.

He gives you a disarming smile, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck, giving you a kiss, trying to defuse your fuse with affection and his classic charm. You brush him off, vexed. “What the hell was taking you so long?!” He opens his mouth to speak but you don’t let him. “Never mind.” You groan, “Just... go throw out the trash.” You pause. “Please?”, you add to sweeten the deal.

Satoru winces slightly at first, but then he internally groans. Taking out the trash is one of the most boring chores he has to do. Then you just had to tack on the ‘please’ and his resolve crumbles instantly. Damn it, how could he say no when you asked him so nicely? He sighs dramatically, trying to act put-out by the request.

“Ugh, fineee.” He whines.

You glare.

He quickly shuts up, sensing your growing irritation. He knows better than to push your buttons right now, especially when you are already pissed at him. So, he begrudgingly lifts up the trash bag, trying his best to show off his beefy biceps as he does this, and heads for the door, muttering under his breath about how much of a hassle taking out the trash is.

Right before he makes his exit, Satoru glances behind him one last time, only to see you staring intently . . . at his muscles. Your eyes flit up to his rather quickly and suspiciously, noticing the pause in his movements. “What?”

He smirks, smug in a way that screams Satoru.

“There’s no need to be shy.” He starts smoothly and you quirk a brow, pursing your lips. “You can look. It’s okay to want all of this, babe.” The bastard flirts with a wink.

Satoru flexes his biceps and his back as casually as he can one last time for good measure, grunting and groaning excessively as he does so, and those gorgeous eyes of yours roll in exasperation, but he can still pick up on the small telltale hint of a smile gracing your lips.

There it is.

That smile.

You love it, you love him. No matter how much you play hard to get even though you’re already stuck with him forever, there was a reason why you still chose him out of all the men in the world (and it totally has everything to do with how amazing and handsome he is).

“Just go, you big idiot.”, you speak in finality, your tone conveying what your words fail to express, eyes shimmering with an unspoken emotion. But he knows what it is, and he knows you know it too.

Satoru salutes, body tall and rigid, one hand holding the heavy black trash bag while the other comes to rest just at his forehead. His cute brows scrunch together in playful seriousness, eyes full of respect, unwavering like his devotion towards you. In that instant, the world seems to pause, the gesture being both simple and profound, a silent vow from him to you. It spoke volumes even after all the hassle of today, and you need not ever say more.

“Yes, ma’am!”

He would follow you to the ends of the world.

a while later . . .

Walking into the laundry room, you go to check to see if the wash cycle is complete so you can transfer the wet clothes into the dryer — only to find out he didn’t even start it or anything! With loud stomps, you storm out of the room, making your way down the hall, basket in hand, up to where he’s lounging on the sofa, playing Candy Crush on his phone without a care in the world — but the sweetness of the previous moment would soon dissipate.

“Satoru! You didn’t even put the laundry in the machine!”

Shit.

The culprit jolts in his seat on the couch, looking up from his phone to see you standing there with the laundry basket in your hands, looking like you’re about to explode with anger. He immediately feels a pang of guilt, and a little apologetic, but mostly — fear.

How did he forget to put the laundry in? He quickly pockets his phone and tries to play it cool.

“O-oh, I, uh, must have forgotten. My bad sweetie...” he titters.

“Forgotten?”, you repeat in disbelief and he blinks dumbly. “It was the only thing I asked you to do in there!”

You slam the basket down on the coffee table, making him jump. His eyes widen as you surf through the clothes to separate the clothing into two piles, and in a moment of revelation, Satoru suddenly remembers the little surprise he left in there — and he freezes.

He can only watch on in horror as you begin to touch and examine each and every article of clothing with a keen eye, his heart rate spiking. It is inevitable. You are going to stumble upon the mess he made earlier; the cum-soaked, used panties that he left in the dirty laundry with the rest of the clothes — and you were going to chew him up and spit him out before evidently, killing him.

Fuck.

He tries to speak up, to stop you from continuing, but his throat feels dry and his tongue feels heavy in his mouth. All he can do is sit there frozen, face pale and sweat starting to bead on his forehead as you get closer and closer to finding out.

You huff. “Why do you always act like everything is so difficult? All you have to do is —” You pause, and Satoru’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“What is that?”, you pronounce your words slowly, voice low and full of suspicion, hands getting wet with something sticky and white.

Your husband can feel his soul leave his body as soon as you pull out that cute number which is very obviously drenched (he has a big load). The poor man swallows hard, perspiration pouring down the side of his temple, palms growing clammy.

This is it. This is the end. This was how the Strongest would die — at the hands of his wife.

You look down at the soiled fabric in disgust, grossed out by the tacky mess on your hands. Knowing the type of person your husband is (a pervert), it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what the so-called ‘mysterious fluid’ is.

Satoru sits there, looking like he’s about to pass out, cheeks now pink and sockets round in utter embarrassment, the picture perfect definition of someone who has been caught. A pair of cerulean eyes dart around the room, desperately searching for an escape route while another, sharp and terrifying, latch onto his form — and he knows no amount of sweet talking will be able to get him out of this one.

He is absolutely screwed.

Clan head!Gojo

Whatever Happens, Happens ── series masterlist

gojo satoru x reader | modern au, 18+

ღ summary: Your sister was a bitch, the biggest bitch, for taking almost everything from the divorce settlement and full custody of her kid. You could never say anything though, because your parents always said family is everything. But that didn't stop you from falling into a rhythm with her ex-husband. That didn’t stop you from helping him quit his smoking addiction and taking care of his daughter from his first marriage—your niece—who would rather call you "mom" than "auntie."

ღ pairing: sister's ex-husband! dilf! gojo satoru x reader

ღ warnings/tags: 18+ fluff, angst, smut, modern au, female reader, age gap (reader is in early 20’s, gojo is in late 20’s), friends to lovers, single dad gojo, divorced gojo, jealousy, pining, insecurity, use of alcohol and weed, use of vulgar language, gojo develops a smoking addiction, unhealthy coping mechanism, eventual romance, family drama, family dynamics, reader's sister is problematic, reader is the younger sister and the coolest aunt ever

ღ taglist: open

a/n: art credits to @3-aem on Tumblr, @_3aem on Twitter and Instagram

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐒 — do not copy, translate, repost or modify my works on any platform.

infect me with your love

pairing ⸺ spiderman!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ you have always existed in gojo satoru’s shadow. he is a physics prodigy, a person that everyone endlessly admires for his intelligence and charisma, and you hate him for taking the spotlight that you deserve to share with him. but it all changes one day at 5:07AM at your starbucks job when gojo barges in, ordering ridiculously sweet drinks and posing existential questions. is there more to gojo that meets the eye, and is it linked to the vigilante swinging around New York City?

warnings ⸺ college au, academic rivals to lovers, SMUT, tooth rotting fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, basically the holy trinity, reader works at Starbucks (BOYCOTT tho), set in NYC, both reader and gojo are physics majors, mentions of SA, attempt at SA on reader but nothing too graphic, some violence, gojo swings reader across NYC so might trigger fear of heights?. SPIDER-MAN KISS SPIDERMAN KISS, injury and mentions of blood, mentions of gun, inappropriate use of webs LOL, fingering, oral, p in v sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied

playlist ⸺ quantum rizzics

a/n thank you for @avaults my POOKIE for beta reading this. this has been a journey and my first longfic and i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i did writing it it's my baby:')

if u don’t wanna read the smut just skip the part after they make up, it’s not necessary to the story and is the ending scene. but just to be clear, minors dni.

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

fun fact: starbucks opens at 5am.

of course, that depends on your local hours and where you live, but in the campus starbucks you worked at, your manager fortunately didn’t really care if you showed up to your opening shift a bit late. after all, no professor or undergrad is waking up at the ass crack of dawn to get a fuckin coffee; if they really needed a pick me up, they’d go to get the free alcohol at one of the frats that was still partying. 

matter of fact, your manager didn’t really give a fuck what you did as long as you didn’t get the shop blown up or the matcha spilled (it was expensive). this meant you could leisurely wake up at 4:45am and set up the display muffins and cake pops when you arrived in the shop at 5:20am. really, the manager ought to reduce the hours because all you do is finish your readings for your gen ed history classes on the canvas app on your phone. so, really you get paid for doing your homework on your shifts—not that you’re complaining or anything.

that is, until gojo satoru.

first, let’s get the record straight about who gojo is. gojo is a physics second-year—same as you–who is the bane of your existence. up until a few months ago, you never saw gojo satoru outside of classes (where he was dozing off) unless you happened to show up at a frat party, which was only a few occurrences when you got peer pressured by your friends. clearly, he was a “work hard, party hard” type person because he frequents the frats more than the library while having the grades to make up for it because he’s a prodigy. he’s charismatic and smart as fuck; right out of middle school he was studying manifolds and abstract algebra while the rest of the high school freshmen were learning the quadratic equation and the concept of variables. he probably learned what gravity was at age of two and was doing research in quantum field theory by the time he got into college. 

take the last time you saw him outside of class, at office hours with professor yaga.

the air in professor yaga’s office is thick with the scent of old textbooks, the hum of the overhead lights adding to the familiar quiet. you’ve been waiting all week for this chance, and you’re armed with a question that’s supposed to signal *i’ve done my homework.* you lean forward, trying to project confidence as you ask, “i read in your last paper that you’re working on optimizing error correction in quantum computing systems. is there a reason you prioritized stabilizer codes over surface codes?”

professor yaga’s brow lifts, impressed, and you can feel the warmth of his approval starting to settle around you. “ah,” he says, sounding pleasantly surprised, “you’ve actually read it. that’s... a complicated question.” he leans back, launching into an explanation, and for a second, you think this might actually be it—the moment he notices you for your dedication, your depth of knowledge.

but then, the door creaks open behind you.

you tense, a sinking feeling pooling in your stomach even before you turn around. of course, it’s gojo satoru, strolling in like he owns the place. his bag is slung over one shoulder, and he’s flashing that easy grin that never seems to falter. he spares you the briefest glance before zeroing in on professor yaga.

professor yaga’s face shifts instantly, a mixture of annoyance and resignation flashing in his eyes as he sighs, “gojo. nice of you to join us.”

“hey, i was just passing by,” gojo says casually, though he’s clearly anything but. he doesn’t pass by anywhere without making an entrance. “thought i’d check in on how everyone’s doing.”

the glint in yaga’s eyes sharpens, and he fixes gojo with a look. “when’s that last problem set coming in, satoru? i’ve had enough late assignments from you for one semester.”

at this, another professor at a nearby desk chuckles, casting an amused glance at gojo. “don’t push him too hard, yaga,” he says as if gojo’s delinquency is something charming, a shared inside joke. “kid’s already got the department’s highest scores without trying.”

oh, for god’s fucking sake. you force yourself not to roll your eyes, your grip tightening on the strap of your bag as you sink back in your chair. of course, all it takes is for him to show up and somehow you’re rendered invisible. just minutes ago, professor yaga was engaging with you, treating you as if you might actually belong in this room with your carefully constructed question. now, he’s utterly distracted, entirely absorbed by whatever pseudo-flattering insults he’s throwing at gojo. and, for the record, that stupid, balding professor is wrong. you have the same fucking scores as gojo, so you’re equals.

you’re not even sure gojo realizes he’s doing it—that he has this magnetic, obnoxious effect on everyone in a room. but that’s exactly what grates on you the most. he pulls all eyes to him, like he’s some cosmic force everyone’s compelled to admire. and you? you’re just… there. not that it’s any different than the usual experiences you’ve had as a woman in stem, always feeling like you have to prove yourself five times over. but somehow, gojo makes it worse.

and he does it all effortlessly, like physics is some sort of playground where he can breeze through research and exams, sprinkling charisma wherever he goes. he’s probably off writing his own theories on manifolds while everyone else is struggling to keep up with quantum mechanics. meanwhile, here you are, clawing for every shred of recognition, only to watch it fizzle as soon as he steps into the room.

he flashes a grin at professor yaga. “i’ll get it in,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “i’m just, you know, prioritizing. some of us have… extracurriculars.” he doesn’t wink, but he might as well.

you resist the urge to scoff, sinking deeper into your seat as the frustration bubbles up, sharp and hot. it’s not like you’re jealous. you’d rather endure anything than admit that. but watching gojo waltz in and immediately siphon off any attention you’d managed to earn feels like a slap. if he could just stop *showing up,* or better yet, stop pretending to be so casually brilliant, maybe—just maybe—you’d have a chance at something other than this routine invisibility.

you let out a huff, pretending to check the time, imagining you had somewhere better to be. you have brilliant, observant blue eyes following you out the door, but you’re too busy trying to keep yourself together until you reach your dorm, where you ugly cry it out.

which, of course, brings you to mornings like this one, where you actually do have to be somewhere. namely, behind the counter at the campus starbucks, opening up shop while most of the world is still asleep. you catch sight of the green mermaid logo ahead, just visible through the dim haze of a 5:07 a.m. chill.

and right beneath it, there’s a familiar head of silver hair.

your eyes have to double take on the man who seems to be looking a bit slouched, tired and leaning against the light pole while tapping his foot. the muscular yet tall stature and white hair are unmistakable; it’s the same ones you’ve dreamed about throttling. but you’re so confused as to why he’s there that you just decide to wordlessly walk towards the store and open up, ignoring his presence until his voice cuts through the morning silence.

“doesn’t this store open up at 5?” his voice sounds tired and groggy, you notice. 

“uh, yea,” you answer tentatively, shrugging. “but, um, no one comes until 7 so i show up late.”

his eyes narrow and somewhat playfully (well, as playful as he can sound at the ass crack of dawn anyways), he asks, “don’t you know time is of the essence? seems pretty irresponsible to me that you’re not showing up on time.”

you just stare at him for a bit because, after all, this is the guy you’ve been having the murderous equivalent of wet dreams about for the past year talking to you in a friendly, joking, familiar way. needless to say, you’re at a loss of words in your slightly flustered state, so all that comes out is a short “sorry” before you’re walking in, getting ready to put on your apron and setting the oven on to heat up the croissants. 

gojo follows in after you, choosing to sit at the table closest to the counter. he sets the backpack he had on his back down, rummaging through and whipping out his laptop and plugging it in. it’s a heavy old thing, and gojo’s biceps strain as he pulls it out and you almost snort when looking at it in its entirety. a gaming laptop.

 but you don’t do that, because laughing at someone who’s a stranger to you would be mean, no matter how much you hate him, so you resort to setting up the counter and getting some powders out. bending over, you get the newly shipped box of cake pops, deigning to put them out on display until you’re interrupted with a cough.

you turn, looking inquisitively at gojo until he points down to the counter, indicating that he wants to order. you mumble, “just a second!” before you continue hauling the box to put it on the top counter where you can easily unpack it and brush your hands, walking up to gojo and getting the system ready to take his order. 

and your fingers are poised on the buttons until you realize that no order is coming out of his mouth. you blink, and he blinks, keeping a stoic face that nevertheless poorly conceals an amused expression.

“…what can i get you?” 

at that, he pouts. “no good morning? no chirpy hello?”

you just stare at him for a good second. what the fuck?

“what?” gojo frowns. “shouldn’t you do that to every customer?” you realize belatedly you’ve said it out loud in your shock, but shake it off nonetheless. 

the silence lingers after gojo’s teasing comment, making you acutely aware of the odd situation: you’re standing there in your work apron, face-to-face with the man you’ve imagined taking down in your head a thousand times, and yet here he is, tired but playfully trying to chat you up. you should hate this—he’s getting under your skin, but for some reason, you just feel unsettled, disturbed that he’s so human.

you don’t trust your voice to not crack while making eye contact with him, so, instead, you focus on your screen. you settle on a simple, flat, “morning,” without a hint of cheerfulness, staring down at the register like it’s your lifeline.

gojo’s eyebrow quirks at your half-hearted greeting, but he says nothing, opting instead to study you with an amused glint. you can feel his gaze, like a weight on your skin, and it almost makes you shiver. he leans forward a little, propping his elbows on the counter, his posture loose but expectant. his playful energy is barely masking something beneath it, something harder.

gojo's grin is wide, almost boyish, and it makes your stomach churn more than it should.

“see? was that so hard?” he says, leaning forward on his elbows like he’s settling in for a chat. his tone is too friendly for someone who’s never exchanged more than a glance with you in class—someone you’ve been actively avoiding whenever possible.

you scowl, moving to the register to finally punch in his order. “what would you like?”

“hmm...” he taps his chin, dragging out the silence. he’s enjoying this, that much is obvious. “surprise me.”

you blink, fingers still poised over the buttons. “surprise you?”

“yeah,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “you work here. you know what’s good.”

you want to throttle him. really, truly throttle him. there’s no way this is real—no way the gojo satoru is sitting in front of you at 5:07 in the morning, asking you to surprise him with a starbucks order like he’s some quirky regular.

and yet, here you are.

“fine,” you mutter, punching in the order for the sweetest, most ridiculous concoction you can think of. caramel drizzle, extra whipped cream, a pump of every syrup in the back room—you’re not going easy on him. “that’ll be eight dollars.”

he doesn’t blink at the ridiculous price. of course, he doesn’t.

pulling out his phone, he taps it against the card reader and flashes you another grin. “thanks, i’m sure it’ll be great.”

you barely resist the urge to roll your eyes. “uh-huh.”

as you move to make the drink, the silence between you stretches uncomfortably. you’ve spent so much time thinking about gojo, despising him, that now that he’s here, right in front of you, you don’t know how to act. and the worst part? he seems perfectly at ease, completely unfazed by the fact that you’ve spent the better part of a year dreaming of his downfall. he’s back to looking at his stupid heavy ahh gaming laptop, and as you move over to put in copious amounts of caramel pumps, you notice that he’s on cool math games playing fireboy and watergirl and almost snort out loud. he’s locked in on his game, his legs moving up and down anxiously, reminiscent of an ipad kid.

after a few minutes of assembling his monstrosity of a drink, you slide it across the counter. “here,” you say, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice.

gojo raises an eyebrow at the drink, the sheer volume of whipped cream threatening to spill over the lid. “wow,” he says, sounding genuinely impressed. “you really went all out.”

“you said to surprise you.”

“i did,” he admits, grabbing the cup and taking a slow, deliberate sip. his eyes widen slightly at the overly sweet taste, and for a brief moment, you think you’ve won.

but then he smiles again, that same irritatingly carefree smile, and you know you haven’t. 

“so,” gojo begins, leaning back in his chair like he’s settling in for a long conversation. “what’s a genius like you doing working the early shift at starbucks?”

your hands freeze mid-clean, and you glance at him sharply. genius?

you can’t tell if he’s being sincere or mocking you—probably the latter, considering who he is—but the word still lingers in the air between you, unsettling.

you scoff, trying to brush it off. “gotta pay the bills somehow,” you mutter, going back to wiping down the counter. but gojo’s gaze is heavy on you, and you can tell he’s not letting it go.

you glance up at him. “look, i like having time to think in the mornings. it’s quiet. besides, no one’s lining up for coffee before 7, so it’s not like i’m missing anything.”

gojo chuckles softly, but there’s something off about it. “thinking time, huh?” he repeats your words, but there’s a strange edge to them, like he’s mulling them over. in fact, you think you just realize that he’s been acting oddly this entire morning, restlessness evident in his figure. he taps his fingers on the table, his eyes flickering to the window, watching the gray morning light spill into the shop.

“doesn’t it ever feel like…” he trails off, brow furrowing slightly. “i don’t know… like you should be doing something else? like… something more?”

his question hangs in the air, heavy and unspoken, but you get the feeling he’s not talking about you. there’s something in his voice, something that sounds like he’s grappling with his own thoughts, with his own place in the world.

for a moment, you’re tempted to brush him off. to tell him he’s overthinking things, that he’s gojo satoru and he already has everything laid out for him. but something stops you. maybe it’s the way he looks—his usual confidence slightly cracked at the edges, his playful tone masking something else. something deeper.

you shrug, turning back to the counter. “i mean… it doesn’t have to be ‘more’ all the time. sometimes just showing up is enough.”

there’s a pause, and you can feel the weight of your words sinking in. gojo goes quiet, really quiet, and when you glance back at him, his usual smirk is gone. he’s just… staring at you, eyes narrowed slightly like he’s trying to figure you out.

“just… showing up, huh?” he repeats softly, almost like he’s testing the words. his fingers stop tapping, and he leans back in his chair, his gaze unfocused, like he’s somewhere else entirely. somewhere in his own head.

you don’t say anything else. you’ve said your piece, and somehow, you know it hit deeper than either of you expected. there’s a strange silence between you now, not uncomfortable, but heavy with understanding.

gojo stands up after a long pause, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. he looks at you, his usual grin slipping back into place, but it’s softer now. less cocky. more real.

“maybe you’re right,” he says, and this time there’s no teasing in his voice. “sometimes it’s enough just to show up.”

and with that, he gives you a small nod, turning and heading out into the cold morning. the door swings shut behind him, and for a second, you just stand there, staring after him.

something’s shifted. you don’t know what it is, but it feels like the start of something. something bigger than just a rivalry.

you shake your head, turning back to the counter. it’s too early for this shit.

…

“you know, i didn’t get your name.”

gojo’s voice cuts through the low hum of the espresso machine as he leans against the counter, that same insufferable grin plastered across his face. he’s here again, of course, only this time it’s during your closing shift. the place is quiet, almost deserted except for the occasional customer who swings by for a quick coffee before heading back out into the cold.

you look up from the equipment you were cleaning, already annoyed. “i’m pretty sure we’ve shared at least one class every semester.”

you weren’t trying to hide the pettiness. gojo, for all his academic genius, clearly couldn’t be bothered to remember you—a recurring face in his orbit. it’s not like you were expecting him to remember you, especially among the sea of faces in lecture halls, but something about the way he strolled in, acting like this was just some cute, quirky meet-cute, got under your skin.

gojo quirks an eyebrow in confusion, his gaze drifting up toward the ceiling as if searching the recesses of his mind for your name—only to come up empty. “are you a grad student?”

you flash him an exasperated look. “just for that, i’m not telling you.”

grabbing a towel to wipe your hands, you step out from behind the barista counter, heading towards the trash can just behind him to restock the straws. as you make your way to the supply room, you can feel his eyes following your every move. to your surprise, gojo starts walking toward you, his presence looming as you dump the straws into the container.

it isn’t until you turn around that you realize he’s standing right next to you, bent comically at the waist and squinting at something on your chest. heat creeps up your neck and into your cheeks as you realize his proximity and move to take a step back. 

he wasn’t ogling you (thank god), but instead, squinting at the nametag pinned to your apron.

"ah," he says, straightening up with a triumphant grin. “there it is. y/n, huh?” the way his mouth rolls over your name slowly makes you feel a bit weird, because after all, this is the guy you’ve shit talked about in your diary finally acknowledging you existed, but before you can reflect on the feeling, you bristle again in annoyance. 

“really? you had to get that close just to read my name?”

gojo doesn’t seem fazed by your annoyance, in fact, it only seems to amuse him further. “hey, i was just trying to be thorough. gotta make sure i get it right, you know?” his grin widens, and you swear he’s enjoying this way too much.

“thorough. sure.” you turn away, trying to busy yourself with the straws again, but the heat still lingers on your face. his proximity had been… unexpected. and a little too close for comfort.

when you’re done with the straws, you steel the courage to turn your body so you’re facing him, making an indication with your hands for him to move out of your way. instead of him giving you space to leave the cramped corner, he leans against the counter now like he practically owns the place. in doing so, he effectively pins you against the corner of the coffee shop, leaving you no option but to fiddle with the straws while pointedly avoiding his gaze, but not before you see the pout on his face. “you’re not going to ask me for my name?”

“i know it. it’s gojo.” you immediately curse yourself for letting your lips loose.

fuck. he squints his eyes in what you perceive as suspicion. “how do you know my name?”

“i saw it on your credit card information.” you couldn’t exactly tell him how you’ve stalked him (as well as how inefficient you found a function in his 6th grade robotics code), so that would be a plausible enough reason. 

but gojo, of course, doesn’t let up. “so, y/n,” he starts. “you going to the party next week? you know, for halloweekend?”

ah, halloweekend. the ultimate weekend for getting excuses to dress slutilly, excessively drink, and get laid. at your college, it was an even bigger deal, with people partying for all three days of the week’s end as well as the weekend before and after halloween. you shook your head. “i don’t think so.” that phys 321 assignment was not going to finish itself, nor were parties really your scene.

“what?” he immediately crosses his arms across his chest, frowning and leaning closer to you to squint at you. “why?”

you sigh inwardly, awkward at the prospect of him bugging you further about your life. “i’m bu—”

you’re interrupted by the sound of the door opening and instinctively move to get behind the counter to take the new customer’s order; at first, you thank the heavens that you got a distraction from gojo, that you’re not alone anymore, but seeing who the customer was, the hope extinguishes like a candle face with wind.

you both see a man swagger in, the same guy you’ve noticed hanging around far too often lately. his eyes immediately lock onto you, and a slow, sleazy grin spreads across his face.

“hey, look who’s still here,” the man says, sauntering over to the counter like he owns the place. “my favorite barista.”

you tense, forcing a smile. “what can i get you?”

he doesn’t answer right away, his gaze sliding down your body in a way that makes your skin crawl. “i was thinking…” he drawls, leaning in closer than necessary, “you and i should hang out. you’re always here, and i’m always here, so it’s like fate or something, right?”

your stomach churns, and you take a small step back, maintaining your composure. “i’m good, thanks.”

but he doesn’t let up, leaning further across the counter. “come on, don’t be like that. just one drink. you deserve it after a long day.”

“i really can’t—”

“don’t be shy,” he interrupts, a grin spreading wider. “i’m a nice guy, i promise.”

before you can think of another polite rejection, gojo steps forward, his body language shifting entirely. the playful air around him evaporates, replaced by something colder, more dangerous. he positions himself squarely between you and the guy, effectively cutting off the man’s view of you.

“she said no,” gojo says, his voice firm, low. “so why don’t you fuck off?”

the sleazy guy blinks, clearly not expecting the sudden shift. his smile fades, and he glares at gojo, sizing him up like he’s considering pushing back. but one glance at gojo’s unwavering stare, and the guy decides it’s not worth it. with a muttered curse, he turns and leaves, the door swinging shut behind him.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. the guy’s been bothering you routinely; part of you thinks that he’s still not going to leave you alone, but the rest of you visibly relaxes, the weight of this guy’s harassment lifting off your shoulders under gojo’s protection.

gojo turns back to you, the usual teasing smirk creeping back onto his face, though his eyes are still sharp. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you manage, though your voice is quieter than you’d like. “thanks for that.”

“don’t mention it.” he shrugs it off like it was nothing, but there’s something different in the way he’s looking at you now—something protective. “i know you’re perfectly capable of handling yourself, but i figured i’d speed things up a bit.”

you roll your eyes, trying to shake off the tension. “you’re such a hero, gojo.”

“always,” he replies with a wink. and just like that, the moment’s lightened again, the balance between you restored, though there’s a subtle shift in the air. something unspoken between the two of you—an understanding, maybe.

you don’t acknowledge it out loud, but as you go back to restocking, you find yourself glancing at him more than before. and for the first time in… well, ever, you don’t completely mind his presence.

…

fast forward a few hours, and after a bit of conversation, gojo finally leaves the fine institution that is your campus starbucks. right now, you’re alone and finishing cleaning up. you lock up, the starbucks finally closed, finishing your last task for the night. it’s quiet—too quiet, actually, with the usual streetlights casting strange shadows across the empty sidewalk. the air feels heavy, like something unseen is lingering just out of reach, watching from the dark. you shake it off, telling yourself you’re just tired and letting your nerves get to you.

as you start your walk back to your dorm, the feeling only grows. the street’s nearly empty, and with each step, the silence presses in closer. it’s fine, you tell yourself, picking up your pace. but then you hear it: the echo of footsteps, faint but unmistakable. heart pounding, you speed up, every instinct telling you to just get back. almost there. you just have to cross the alley—

“hey there,” a voice drawls, and your stomach sinks. a hand moves to grab at your shoulder, making you turn quickly. what meets your vision is the same guy from earlier, his grin widening in a way that makes your skin crawl.

you try to move out of his grip, but he grabs you harder, cutting off any escape. “aw, don’t be like that. i just wanted some company.”

your throat’s dry, but you manage, “i said no.”

he doesn’t even pretend to listen, his gaze trailing over you with that same leering interest. “no need to be so uptight. i could make this fun for you.”

your back hits the wall of the alley. trapped. he leans in, his breath warm and sour against your face, one hand reaching out as he says something sleazy that you can barely hear over the pounding in your ears—

and then a voice cuts in from above, all easy humor. “y’know, i always thought this city’s trash problem was bad, but this is something else.”

your heart leaps in your chest at the small flicker of hope, that someone has the balls to try to rescue you. but as you—and this creep—turn, you find no evidence of another party present, only his mysterious presence. 

“who’s there?” the guy snarls, his grip tightening so much that you wince. “why don’t you get lost if you know what’s good for you—”

“dude, don’t you have any rizz?” the mysterious boy retorts.the stranger has a youthful voice, someone of your age.  “the way you have to resort to sexual harassment is just sad. you guys are always sooo predictable, you’re so gonna tell me to scram or something.”

the man scowls, hand leaving your arm in an effort to search for the stranger in the dark. “why don’t you mind your own business, punk—”

and he’s interrupted, because a shiny, silver something flings out in the darkness and lands on his face, sending his arms in a frenzy to uncover what it is. the man rips the sticky, silver webbing off his face with a growl, looking around wildly, his expression shifting from confusion to anger. his eyes dart through the dark alley, searching for the source of that cocky voice, but there’s nothing—just shadows and the faint flicker of a streetlamp somewhere down the block.

“who the hell are you?” he snaps, twisting his neck as if he could scare whoever’s hiding out there into the open. “show yourself, you bastard!”

a chuckle echoes from the darkness, bouncing off the brick walls. “wow, real tough guy, huh? but you should work on those anger issues. they’re, uh…a bit unbecoming.”

the man spins around, and another burst of webbing flies out from somewhere unseen, sticking to his shoulder this time. he yanks it off with a frustrated grunt, his head whipping from side to side as he tries to locate the stranger.

“you think this is funny?” he spits, voice raised in a mix of fear and fury.

“depends. do you?” the voice is closer now, almost like the stranger is right above you, yet no one’s there. “or is this just a big overreaction? all i did was suggest you rethink your approach. go to therapy or sum’.”

the man snarls, fists clenched, starting to look downright unhinged. “get down here and say that to my face, punk!”

“as you wish.”

with a soft thump, a figure drops from above, landing directly in front of the guy in a low crouch. in the dim light, all you see at first are the blue and black accents on the otherwise white suit, his head tilting up, illuminated just enough that his white, wide eyes glow with a certain playful menace. and then, your eyes widen as you gasp to yourself. 

you’ve seen him before.

okay, pause.

you’re a busy college student, one who stays entrenched in the bubble of upcoming exams, assignments, and problem sets that you don’t check the news often. in the off chance you do turn from your usual consumption of social media during your breaks to the news, you only have time to read the big headlines.

so you did read somewhere that in your university’s city of new york city, there was a masked menan—vigilante that had beat up a few guys near a shawarma joint or prevented some shootings at a nightclub. new york city was full of incompetent cops that were on the lookout for him (a/n acabbbbbb) since this guy was a vigilante, some kind of superhero slinging around on webs. some name—spiderman.

but before you could read more into the article, your soul almost left your body when you got a canvas notification saying your midterm was graded, so that was the end of that.

alright, pause over. back to now.

“hi!” spiderman chirps, giving him a friendly wave before ducking just as the man throws a punch. the swing goes wide, and spiderman straightens up with a disappointed sigh. “see, this is why i’m the one with the web powers. you’d hurt yourself with these moves.”

without warning, the man charges again, swinging in rapid succession, but each one misses as spiderman easily sidesteps, practically dancing around him. “oof, dude, how did you make it this far in life with reflexes like that?” he ducks another blow, slipping behind the guy to give him a light tap on the shoulder as he passes.

the man stumbles, eyes flashing with frustration, and lets out a roar, reaching down to pick up a loose brick from the alley floor. he raises it above his head, face twisted in a snarl.

“oh, so we’re improvising now?” spiderman quips, and before the man can bring the brick down, a strand of webbing shoots out, sticking to the brick and yanking it from his grasp. it flies off somewhere into the alley, landing with a dull clatter.

the guy stumbles forward, off balance, and spiderman takes the opportunity to web his feet to the ground, immobilizing him in place. the man struggles, pulling his legs, but he’s stuck fast.

“ever heard of boundaries?” spiderman asks, tilting his head with mock innocence. “or, like, self-restraint? you should look into it.”

the man glares, seething, still struggling against the webs. “you think you’re some kinda hero?” he sneers.

spiderman shrugs, glancing over at you, catching your gaze in a way that makes you feel both strangely comforted and seen. “nah, hero’s a big word. i’m just your friendly neighborhood guy with slightly above-average reflexes.”

with a frustrated yell, the man finally wrenches one arm free and makes a desperate lunge, his fist connecting with spiderman’s side. spiderman lets out a small grunt but only wobbles slightly before grinning. “okay, buddy, playtime’s over.”

before the man can even react, spiderman sends out another web, this time at his wrist, effectively pinning him to the alley wall. he struggles, face twisted in anger, but spiderman just raises a gloved hand to his lips as if hushing a child. then, in the lull that follows, you remember the thick quantum mechanics textbook in your bag. without thinking, you yank it out and, in a burst of adrenaline, swing it at the man’s head. the book lands with a solid thud, and he slumps, finally, into silence.

spiderman looks at the unconscious man, then at the textbook in your hand. he lets out a low whistle. “you know, i’ve always thought textbooks were a weapon of choice, but that’s next-level dedication.” that’s when you realize just how tall he is compared to you, and you can’t help your excitement when you realize that he’s here in the flesh.

“nice hit, by the wa—”

“it’s you!” you exclaim. 

“what?” he sputters, white eyes widening almost comically. “me? oh,” then he straightens up, “yea, yea. just your friendly neighborhood spiderman. rescuing pretty girls from creeps, kinda my thing. ” he shrugs.

you continue, excitedly, “right, you’re the one on the news—” you move your hand to point at him but quickly wince, the pain of the man’s grip catching up to you. 

he doesn’t miss the movement, eyes squinting at you. “hey, we’ll have to get you home. do you trust me?”

you look at him, clutching your arm in pain, and really take a moment to check him out. he’s saved you, he’s probably six feet tall, and his ass looks fantastic in his suit. at this point, you’re looking at him with heart eyes. but you can’t exactly tell him you want him to propose, so all you utter out is a “y-yeah. my dorm’s randall.”

he doesn't waste any time. with a quick nod, he hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you close as he aims a webline up toward the buildings. “hold on tight, randall’s just a swing away,” he murmurs, his voice light but steady. his hand settles on your hip, and you can't stop the way your stomach flips at the contact.

before you can even process what’s happening, he launches the two of you into the air, the city blurring beneath your feet as you cling to him, fingers gripping the fabric of his suit for dear life. his arm stays solid around you, his grip somehow both gentle and strong. he lands lightly on the roof of your dorm, setting you down carefully like you’re something fragile. and he steps back, dusting his hands off in the most nonchalant way possible, like he didn’t just take you on the most exhilarating ride of your life.

“this is your stop,” he says, that signature, almost cocky smile playing in his voice.

“uh… yeah. thanks. for the rescue,” you manage, your voice a little shakier than you’d like. you don’t know if “thank you” is enough—it doesn’t even come close to covering what you feel.

but he just shrugs, taking a step back. “all in a day’s work,” he says. “or night’s work, i guess.” he pauses, giving you a quick once-over. “get some sleep, yeah?”

and just like that, he gives you a small, almost playful salute and vanishes, swinging off into the night as easily as he’d appeared, leaving you standing on the rooftop with your heart still racing.

back in your dorm room, you drop onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling as tonight’s events replay in your head: the alley, his voice cutting through the dark, that cocky smirk, the way he felt holding onto you as you soared over the city lights. a tiny part of you wonders if you imagined the whole thing—if maybe you’re just the victim of some wild, sleep-deprived hallucination.

but no, your arm still aches from where the creep grabbed you, and you can still feel the ghost of his hand on your waist, steady and reassuring. you bite your lip, a smile creeping onto your face despite yourself.

just before sleep finally claims you, you let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. “the city’s vigilante, huh?” you murmur, as if he’s somehow still listening.

the thought is wild, a bit surreal—and strangely comforting.

…

“one caffe americano!” you call out, reading the label on the cup before handing it over with a small nod. the customer takes it with a quick thanks, and you return to the counter, barely holding back a yawn. the events of last night flicker through your mind—a web-slinging hero, an alley, the lingering ache in your arm—and you shake it off. there’s no room for distractions. life as a college student means the grind never stops, especially on a morning shift right before class.

when your coworker finally arrives, you let out a quiet sigh of relief, grab your bag, and step out into the brisk morning air. the chill helps wake you up as you make your way across campus, hoping to catch up with your friends before the lecture starts. just outside the building, you spot utahime, sitting on a bench, waiting with her usual tired smile.

“hey, finally off the clock?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“yeah, barely,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “i’m still running on fumes from last night. you guys save me a seat?”

“of course. nanami’s already inside,” she says, gesturing toward the building.

you sigh. “you won’t believe the things that happened last night.”

she gives you a look, in the traditional utahime protective-mother-hen type way. “what happened?”

you give her the rundown of what happened, the guy (who she bristles at, gives you a slap at your hand to tell you that you should’ve told her earlier, kento would’ve been able to beat his ass if she hadn’t gotten to it first) and how spiderman saved you. “i would give him what he’s missing,” you sigh, dreamily. 

utahime looks at you in a judgmental way. “and that’s all you got from this? for fucks sake, he’s a vigilante, you don’t know if he’s started to tail you or not. pooks, he could literally be dangerous. try to convince your boss to let someone else get your night shift.” as soon as you open your mouth to protest, she cuts you off immediately. “and no, i don’t give a fuck about your people pleaser tendenci—”

“we’ll revisit this conversation later.” you give her a sweet smile as you start to speed walk, door of the lecture hall of the 9am section of phys401: intro to quantum algorithms, falling in with the usual stream of students after you hear an irritated “yea, cause i’m gonna kill you otherwise.” the familiar chatter and echo of footsteps make the day feel almost normal, grounding you as you weave through the hall.

inside, you quickly spot kento’s shining, disney prince-like blonde hair, who has saved seats for the three of you near the middle of the hall, away from the ugly, smelly grad students who always crowd the front. he gives you a quick nod as you settle down beside him, flipping open your notebook. the reliable calm on his face helps ease the lingering jitters you hadn’t realized you were carrying.

“long night?” he asks, glancing at the dark circles under your eyes.

“you could say that,” you mumble, not quite ready to get into details. instead, you wave it off. “just work assignments, and getting jumped, the usual.”

nanami breaks into a series of shocked coughs, and you hurry to pat his back as he undeniably burns his tongue on the coffee he was taking a sip of. “what?”

his rather loud exclamation sets off stares from people sitting closer to you both, so you give utahime, who lets out a quiet groan as she’s settling into her seat beside you, a knowing look. “it’s a long story, i’ll tell it to you later.”

he reluctantly settles in after that, not because he has a choice but because yaga is starting to address the class by asking about the weekend and getting his usual blank stares in return until a voice you recognize as suguru geto’s is saying something to undeniably piss him off, but you don’t register quite what it is exactly because the door opens and any attention on geto is directed to the boy with white hair and blue eyes tiredly walking into class. 

he’s about ten minutes late to the lecture, which is already weird because he’s usually about 27 seconds late, not that you keep count. but also, normally gojo is the picture of confidence and cockyness, making some of the female grad students whisper things about him that you don’t think they should be for the five year gap between them and gojo. 

but today, he looks different—messy, unkempt, with shadows under his eyes and a weird angle to his torso, the way he walks, and the way his opposite hand is subconsciously hovering around his side.

your brows knit together as he heads to an empty seat rows behind you next to geto, ignoring the stares of half the room. it’s so out of character for him that you can’t help but wonder what’s going on. you shoot utahime a knowing look, and she stifles a laugh, barely managing to keep a straight face as she watches gojo slink to his seat. nanami’s usually impassive face exchanges a look with you as well before he turns his attention back to professor yaga’s opening remarks. gojo slides into the row behind you without a word, avoiding everyone’s gaze—or so you think, until you feel it.

as you attempt to listen to professor yaga, you can’t shake the sensation of eyes boring into the back of your head. you resist the urge to turn, telling yourself it’s probably nothing… except the feeling lingers, so strong that your pulse ticks up a notch.

“okay, now that we’re all here,” yaga says in a dry tone, barely able to hide his irritation as he glances pointedly in gojo’s direction, “let’s begin with today’s lecture on grover’s.”

professor yaga taps the board, and the projector switches to a set of slides titled quantum speed-up and the grover search algorithm. he launches into his explanation, voice clipped. “grover’s algorithm provides a quadratic speed-up for unstructured search problems, a notable advantage in quantum computing. but can anyone tell me why this isn’t considered an exponential improvement?”

you raise your hand, as does nanami. a subtle shift of movement in your peripheral vision draws your eye to gojo, who’s leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. yaga’s attention lands on nanami first, and he gives a succinct answer about how grover’s algorithm yields only a quadratic speed-up in terms of computational complexity. as he answers, you swear you catch gojo watching you, again, through the corner of your eye.

determined not to let him get under your skin, you lean over to whisper to nanami. “what’s with him today?”

nanami, still watching yaga, raises a brow. “maybe he finally realized that he can’t get by without skipping class today.”

utahime snickers quietly. “doubtful. more like he thinks it’s funny to waltz in whenever he likes and still ace every test.”

“exactly.” you sigh, drumming your pen against your notebook. gojo’s rare absences don’t even seem to faze most professors. and despite his unpredictable attendance, he’s always managed to stay miles ahead. today, though, something’s… different about him. like he’s made a life changing decision in the past 48 hours.

“moving on,” yaga says, pointing to the board where the next slide materializes. “the heart of grover’s algorithm lies in its use of an amplitude amplification technique, where we iterate a search oracle along with an inversion process. pay attention—this concept of iterative improvement will become key when we start covering variational quantum algorithms.”

as yaga delves deeper into amplitude amplification, you manage to focus, jotting down notes on the necessary steps in grover’s search. yet each time you settle into the lecture, you feel gojo’s gaze pricking at you. the first time you turn around, there’s nothing there—just him slouched, seemingly absorbed in whatever he’s staring at on the ceiling. but then, you sense it again and, on your second glance, you catch his blue eyes meeting yours, and he quickly looks away.

what’s his problem? you give him a questioning look, but he’s adamantly not looking at you, trying to look nonchalant as he’s pulling out his laptop. he might look like a student taking latexing notes of what yaga’s yapping about, but the way he’s using his mouse more than he is his keyboard tells you that he’s probably on papa’s freezeria instead.

you decide that you’re going to waste your time wondering how gojo’s brain functioned, so you instead focus back on the lecture. after all, you didn’t understand any of the lecture notes you took notes on before and what it said about the diffuser in the circuit. 

“now,” yaga’s voice sharpens, pulling you back into the room, “these iterations act as amplitude amplification steps, so pay close attention—especially those of you who have a habit of being late.” his eyes slide back to gojo, who remains oblivious, leaning back with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as the sound of his name brings him back to the lecture.

gojo doesn’t even look phased. instead, he raises a hand casually, like he’s about to ask a simple question. you can feel the anticipation ripple through the room—half the students are waiting to see if he’ll fumble, and the other half already know better.

“professor yaga,” he drawls, “don’t you think amplitude amplification is a bit of an oversimplification? the way it’s typically presented, you’d think grover’s algorithm was just… guessing with style.” he flashes an infuriatingly smug smile, drawing out the pause before continuing. “but we both know it’s more about quantum phase inversion, right? the oracle reflects about the mean state, iterating with a precision that isn’t just luck. or maybe that’s all too technical?” he leans back, feigning innocence.

the smugness in his tone makes something flare up in you, and before you can stop yourself, your hand shoots up.

“actually, gojo,” you interject, your voice louder than you intended, “calling it “guessing with style” is a very gross oversimplification. grover’s algorithm isn’t about intuition or luck. it’s about optimization. it’s not just about spotlighting a target like a rando guess, it’s more like rotating the probability in a controlled manner—with iterations—to amplify the correct solution. not just some quantum trick or guess.” you cross your arms, leaning back in your chair as you stare him down. “it’s not even that bad, compared to what we have classically.”

as soon as you spoke, it seems that the fight and mischievous look in gojo’s eyes fades, replacing it with something that shockingly looks like him being flustered as he averts your gaze, looks to the ceiling, and murmurs something like “yea, that’s basically most of quantum computing, desperately trying to prove we’re not just wasting our time” but yaga interrupts him, clearly a bit annoyed at the two know-it-alls that you and gojo were acting like. 

“now,” yaga says, shifting back to the lecture as if nothing happened (probably because he wasn’t paid enough to deal with this shit), “these iterations act as amplitude amplification steps, so pay close attention—especially those of you who have a habit of missing lectures.”

you’re just left confused as to why the conversation didn’t escalate like the typical academic rivals in movies, because you’ve definitely seen gojo bully some people who didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about instead of just blushing like some schoolgirl. regardless, you can’t help but notice the thrill that you felt, having finally argued with him, having been seen as someone worth arguing. you try to temper it as yaga continues onto the rest of the lecture.

…

“i can’t believe you’re making me go.” you tug at the hem of your white corset, paired with a matching skirt, still incredulous at how utahime managed to talk you into attending one of the infamous halloween frat parties. the night air is crisp against your exposed shoulders, and despite your complaints, you shiver more at the thought of wasting the next few hours among sweaty strangers than the actual cold.

utahime, walking beside you in a devil-red version of your outfit—complete with horns perched precariously on her head—looks far too satisfied with herself. she adjusts the horns with one hand, giving you a sidelong glance that practically drips with smugness.

“stop pouting,” she chides. “i’m not going to let you waste another night holed up in your room, buried in manhwa or quantum physics. i’m pretty sure there are cobwebs growing in your—”

“utahime,” you hiss, cutting her off with a mortified glance around.

“pussy,” she finishes, completely unbothered. “i’m going to find you a guy to hook up with. i’m not saying you have to go all the way, but flirting? kissing? maybe something more? very healthy. highly encouraged.”

your mouth falls open in protest, but before you can get a word in, she fixes you with a sharp glare, her dark eyes flashing with all the authority of a disappointed parent. “don’t even think about arguing with me. i swear, if you don’t at least try to enjoy this, i’ll make it my personal mission to find someone for you.”

“i can’t believe this,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “you’re supposed to be my friend, not my pimp.”

“oh, i’m your friend. that’s why i’m doing this. you’ll thank me when you’re sixty and not crying about how boring your college life was.”

“i’m not boring,” you counter. “i’m selective.”

“sure,” utahime drawls, clearly unconvinced. “and whatever weird sexual tension you’ve got going on with gojo doesn’t count.”

you scoff, stopping in your tracks to stare at her. “what tension? we’ve literally talked once this week. and that was the first time we had a conversation.”

she doesn’t respond, already scanning the scene ahead. the street of frat houses looms just ahead, glowing with gaudy orange lights strung up across balconies. the bass from the nearest party reverberates through the pavement underfoot. it’s already crowded, hordes of people shuffling in and out, laughing, shouting, and showcasing their half-baked halloween costumes.

you follow utahime’s gaze to the nearest house, packed with enough people to make the windows fog up. just the thought of squeezing into that humidity makes your stomach churn.

“looks crowded,” you mumble. “maybe we should—”

before you can suggest retreating, utahime grabs your wrist and practically drags you toward the house. “nope. you’re coming in. no backing out now.”

the moment you step inside, the smell hits you. sweat, stale beer, and an undercurrent of what you can only describe as frat-house musk. your nose wrinkles, and you instinctively recoil, pulling your arm free from utahime’s grasp.

“god, it smells like a gym locker in here,” you say, covering your nose.

utahime doesn’t seem fazed. she’s already scanning the room, her eyes landing on a beer pong table set up in the corner, surrounded by cheering students. “this is perfect!” she says, beaming.

“for what? contracting a fungal infection?” you mutter.

but she’s no longer listening, her focus shifting as a tall, broad-shouldered guy in a makeshift cowboy hat approaches her and then stops in front of both of you, his stare fully enthralled by utahime. “hey,” he says, a bit suavely, in the way that makes you inwardly roll your eyes because you know she’s going to eat it up. she likes it when they’re a little ugly, and this guy fits the bill. 

“hey,” and she giggles, making you have to physically fight the urge to puke, “what’s up?”

 they exchange a few words, and before you know it, she’s smiling in that way that tells you she’s found her entertainment for the night.

“go ahead,” you say dryly, waving her off. “i’ll just fend for myself.”

utahime starts to protest, but you’re already beelining for the kitchen, trying to get a drink that’s not too crazy to survive the night. it’s surprisingly less chaotic in the kitchen, though the counters are cluttered with half-empty bottles, red solo cups, and some questionable punch that looks radioactive. you scan the room, your eyes landing on a cupboard that might hold something simple—like water. a series of ding! ding! ding!’s go off in your mind as you find the pack of plastic water bottles. 

standing on your toes, you reach for the handle, but it’s just out of your grasp. you huff in frustration, shifting to get better leverage when a hand way bigger than yours suddenly appears above yours, effortlessly grabbing the item you were reaching for.

“let me get that for you.”

you turn to thank the person, the words dying on your lips when you see who it is.

gojo.

he’s standing impossibly close, his signature smirk firmly in place, but there’s something almost casual in the way he looks at you, as if this is the most normal interaction in the world. you swear you’re so close that you can see like the two open pores on his otherwise flawless skin, as his eyes inevitably drag themselves downwards to scan your outfit for the night—a shitty angel without wings and halo (you couldn’t be paid two shits to put in the effort; both of the top and skirt were utahime’s, anyways.) then, his eyes meet yours again, a bit of playfulness in them. 

“well, well,” he drawls, handing you the water bottle. “never thought i’d see you here.”

you take the bottle, trying to ignore the brush of his fingers against yours. “didn’t have much of a choice. utahime dragged me.”

his grin widens. “classic. let me guess—she’s off trying to find her soulmate at the beer pong table?”

“something like that,” you mumble, not wanting to give him the entire story. twisting the cap off the bottle,  you take a sip, hoping he’ll just leave you alone, but instead, he leans against the counter, looking entirely too comfortable.

“so,” he says, tilting his head, “i heard through the grapevine that you had a run-in with that spider-man guy this week.”

that makes you pause mid-gulp of water, instead coughing a bit as you try to swallow it down without basically drowning in kirkland signature natural spring water. you’ve only told like, three people outside of kento and iori, so you’re confused why he knows this information, but you continue on regardless. the memory of spider-man swinging in to save you flashes through your mind, and you can’t help but smile softly to yourself. “it was amazing. he’s—he’s incredible, honestly. the way he just swooped in and handled everything? so fast, so precise. he’s like a real-life superhero.”

you’re basically gushing to him, and you realize that a bit too late as you look at his face to gauge his reaction. he’s looking at you with a newfound interest, albeit a bit too conflicted to fully tease you about it when he says, “sounds like you’re smitten.”

“maybe i am,” you admit, laughing. “i mean, who wouldn’t be? he’s brave, he’s kind, and he doesn’t even stick around for the credit. it’s like he’s this selfless, untouchable figure.” you also kind of want to give him a sloppy toppy for saving you like that, but you spare gojo the details. 

“untouchable, huh?” gojo echoes, his tone turning a bit wry and…jealous? “sounds like someone’s got a crush.”

you roll your eyes, but it’s half-hearted, and you think gojo can tell with the way you’re heating up and bashfully looking at the ground. “don’t be ridiculous.”

“i’m just saying,” he continues, leaning closer, “if that’s your type, you might want to raise your standards. superheroes are overrated.”

you raise an eyebrow. “and what, you’re not?”

he grins, that infuriatingly charming grin that makes you want to simultaneously punch him and laugh. “i’m better. i’m real.” he then puts his hands on the counter behind you, caging you between them until your knees are lightly brushing, and suddenly his face is so close that small little breaths from his nose are fanning across your face. “i can prove that to you.”

and you hate your body for being so…reactive and enthusiastic to his smooth-talking, face flushing. despite that, you try to put on an air of nonchalance. “god, you’re insufferable.”

“really?” he teases. his hand leaves the marble counter to hover at your hip, his hand subconsciously tracing your curves an inch above your skin. the motion, firm but tentative as if he’s waiting for you to give him the green light, makes you shiver as you subconsciously move your hips to finally have the skin-to-skin contact. and your skin sings in happiness as he draws circles into the area right below your skirt, even momentarily dipping just below, to which you realize that he’s treading very close to your panties, since your skirt’s really short.

"yea," you basically sigh, hating yourself for how breathy your voice sounds. 

it seems to have an effect on gojo because his eyes darken as he murmurs, "wastin' your time on that spiderman guy."

maybe it's the fact that it's late (you've been getting sub four hours of sleep this past week) or the lights in this humid frat bring a heady air, but all academic-rivalry-overshadowed-woman-in-stem history between you and gojo disappears in your brain as you rake your eyes up and down his torso and then look at him through your lashes. "who should i spend my time on instead?"

he gives you a little smile as he stares down at you, eyes raking over your face, catching at your lips and then going back up again to meet yours. “i don’t know, someone who’s as smart as you,” he murmurs.

“yea?” you laugh out breathlessly. your faces are so close that in normal circumstances, you would worry about how you both looked so close together, one hand on your thigh and the other splayed on your waist. “and how would you know how smart i am?”

satoru starts, lips coming closer and closer. “because i—”

but he’s interrupted, because you both hear a “satoru” and pull apart, breathing heavily as you both turn to look at the offender standing in the entrance of the kitchen: suguru geto, gojo’s best friend, looking more tired than anything as his eyes catch on you, then going to gojo with a pointed look. it’s not hard to figure out what was going on based on how disheveled you both look, your skirt crooked and his shirt crumbled, and your cheeks heat. before you can say anything, however, suguru sighs and says to gojo, “there’s a burglary happening nearby.” then, he turns but not before giving you a nod. “make sure to stay safe.”

he promptly leaves, leaving you confused standing there. was this such an emergency worth noting that he interrupted his best friend?

you try to seek the answer in gojo’s face, but he has this conflicted, annoyed countenance and you suddenly feel kinda of insecure because he’s raking his hand through his hair, staring painfully at the ceiling then at you. at the same time you utter out a “uh–” he says “i have to go.”

“oh.” you blink. a why brews on top of your tongue, but you temper it, reminding yourself that you’re not close to gojo like that. needless to say, you feel a little embarrassed as you watch him jog out of the kitchen with a little wave to you. you want to overanalyze gojo’s last look to you, the one that looked a bit like disappointment and yearning, but you shake it off, staring at the 16.9 oz plastic water bottle in your hand that you forgot about.

taking a sip, you cringe as you become more aware of your surroundings and the state you’re left in because of gojo. that your panties are a bit more sticky—you reach under your skirt to adjust them so they don’t stick to your crotch so much—and you’re hot all over. 

then reality comes crashing back. what the hell did you and gojo just do right now?

you groan out loud, banging your head against the fridge, but as you reel back, in your peripheral you see  someone there. your head shoots to see the guy who’s now looking at you with a weird expression as he undeniably waits for whatever freaking out you were doing to gain access to the fridge. 

“sorry,” you blurt out, and gather yourself to beeline for the exit. god, you needed to find utahime.

…

the soft hum of a tv in the corner of satoru’s apartment provided the only sound, save for the faint rustle of suguru flipping through a textbook. the remnants of takeout—boxes of half-eaten pad thai and a pile of discarded chopsticks—littered the coffee table between them. satoru leaned back on the couch, legs stretched out, staring at the ceiling like it held answers he hadn’t thought to ask yet. he held a small foam ball, tossing it up and catching it over and over. his mind, however, wasn’t focused on the ball but on you.

it was starting to feel like an obsession. he’d always been able to compartmentalize things—his studies, his friends, his other responsibilities. but you? you’d broken through the usual barriers in his head, wedging yourself firmly into every free thought he had.

“do you think she likes me?” he asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

suguru glanced up from his book, his expression unreadable. “who, starbucks girl?”

satoru scoffed. “she’s not starbucks girl. she’s…” he trailed off, tapping his fingers against his knee. your name lingered on his tongue, oddly weighty in a way that felt almost unfamiliar.

suguru smirked. “oh, she’s got a name now? progress.”

“shut up.”

but he couldn’t shut his mind off, not when you kept taking up space in it. it wasn’t just that he’d noticed you now—really noticed you, for the first time. it was more than that.

satoru had always known who you were. you weren’t exactly easy to miss. in a program full of ugly guys who didn’t shower and loud personalities, you had carved out your niche by being the cold, unreachable one. the one who didn’t bother with group projects unless she had to, who barely engaged in conversations beyond what was strictly necessary. other guys in the program talked about you, of course. they always did.

“frigid,” they called you. “too serious. probably thinks she’s better than us.”

they weren’t entirely wrong. you were better than most of them, but not for the reasons they assumed. satoru had read your work—papers that brimmed with insights that most of their half-baked theories could only dream of. he could tell you put in the effort in your classes and research, while all the guys left shit-talking had to rely on their grad student mentors to be able to write a legible paper. for fucks sake, he doesn’t even thing anyone could code in qiskit or cirq like you could; he had skimmed your notes once, left them behind after a lecture, and found them meticulous and sharp before he turned them into the professor to return to you.

and yet, despite the brilliance you carried with you, you had never given him a second glance.

that day at starbucks, though.

satoru rolled his head to the side, gaze drifting toward the window. he hadn’t expected to see anyone at five in the morning, let alone you. he’d been desperate for answers then—he had spent his night staring at his hands, which had seemed to keep ejecting spider-like webs after he’d been horribly sick. he knew he shouldn’t have gone fooling around in new york’s subway tunnels at 3am with suguru and shoko, but after a seemingly-harmless spider had bit him, he had been reeling from the discovery of his newfound powers and grappling with the weight of what they meant ever since. 

and there you were, unlocking the starbucks, bleary-eyed but no less composed.

you’d handed him his coffee, not interested in him the entire time, and he remembered blurting something out—something ridiculous about fate or responsibility, his usual bravado faltering in the quiet of the moment. he had been spiraling, unsure of who he was anymore, and you’d said something.

what was it again?

“it doesn’t have to be ‘more’ all the time. sometimes just showing up is enough.”

the words had stayed with him, carved deep into the corners of his mind. you didn’t know it, but they had pulled him back from the edge that day. since then, he’d started noticing you in ways he hadn’t before.

the way you brushed your hair behind your ear when you were deep in thought. the furrow of your brow when you argued as respectfully as you could with a professor (gojo knew you were holding back, though, and the thought always made him smile to himself because if he wasn’t an idgafer he would be incensed like you at the idiotic teacher). the smile—rare, fleeting, but utterly disarming—that occasionally lit up your face when you talked to utahime or that guy you were too friendly around, nanami.

“you’re doing that thing again,” suguru said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“what thing?” satoru asked, sitting up straighter.

“brooding. you’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

“no.”

suguru arched an eyebrow. “you’re a terrible liar.”

satoru sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “fine. maybe i am. but it’s complicated.”

“how is it complicated?”

“she doesn’t like me,” satoru said, shrugging. “at least, not as me. she likes spider-man.”

suguru blinked, clearly unimpressed. “you’re being stupid bro.”

“i’m not being stupid,” satoru argued. “she thinks spider-man’s this amazing, selfless hero. she doesn’t know i’m just some guy who can’t even figure out how to flirt with her without making an ass of himself.”

suguru leaned back in his chair, regarding satoru with an almost pitying look. “so let me get this straight. you’re worried that she only likes spider-man, even though spider-man is you. like it’s some kind of split personality thing?”

“well, when you put it like that—”

“it sounds dumb,” suguru finished. “because it is dumb.”

satoru glared at him, but suguru only shrugged.  but how could he not think about you? even now, the memory of your voice—calm, steady, and unexpectedly warm—echoed in his head. you had this way of looking at him, like you were peeling back layers he didn’t even know he had. and that smile... he groaned inwardly. he wasn’t supposed to be so drawn to you, wasn’t supposed to imagine what it’d feel like to have you smile at him like that all the time.

“look,” suguru continued, “if you like her, shoot your shot. you’re already overthinking this, and you haven’t even done anything yet. what’s the worst that could happen? she says no?”

“or she laughs in my face,” satoru muttered.

“which would be deserved, honestly,” suguru said, smirking. “but seriously, you’ve got nothing to lose. and everything to gain.”

satoru didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the takeout boxes on the table. he wanted to believe suguru was right, but there was a small, stubborn part of him that wasn’t so sure.

because it wasn’t just about rejection, or even whether you liked him as satoru or spider-man. it was about what came after. if he let you in and something happened to you—if his double life brought danger to your doorstep—he wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself.

but then there was suguru’s voice in his head, steady and persistent: you’ve got nothing to lose. and everything to gain.

…

amidst a week of endless projects upon projects and other miscellaneous assignments from your research group partners (since the grad students loved to pile their work on top of you, the helpless undergrad), you find yourself nursing a hot chocolate while on top of your dormitory building’s roof. 

you find sanctuary, coming on here for time to yourself whenever you find yourself stuck in a busy week. quiet, solitary, with a view of the city lights flickering like scattered fireflies. you hugged your cardigan tighter around your shoulders as you stepped onto the roof, your laptop tucked under one arm, a mug of tea precariously balanced in the other hand. the air was crisp, biting just enough to sting your cheeks.

setting your mug down on the ledge, you perched beside it, pulling up your knees and balancing the laptop precariously as you typed. the words on the screen blurred after a while, blending into the chaos in your mind. frustrated, you closed it with a snap and leaned your head back to gaze at the stars.

“rough night?”

you startled, spinning your head around so fast your tea nearly toppled. but you can’t find anyone, just the sound of soft footsteps landing somewhere not visible to you. 

“you scared the hell out of me,” you sighed, clutching your chest.

“sorry,” he said, though his tone didn’t sound all that apologetic. “didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“then maybe don’t sneak up on people like that,” you muttered, still trying to calm your racing heart.

he chuckled, and the sound was warmer than you’d expected. “noted. so, what’s got you out here at three in the morning? don’t tell me you’re pulling an all-nighter.”

you sighed, the initial shock fading into a dull thrum of shyness. “it’s not an all-nighter if the night isn’t over yet.” then, you squint at a random spot, pretending it’s him. “besides, why are you here? shouldn’t you be out stopping robberies or saving cats from trees?”

“done and done,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the ledge. “now i’m just enjoying the view.”

you turned your gaze back to the skyline, hoping the darkness hid the faint heat creeping up your neck. “so, what’s a guy like you doing on a random rooftop at three in the morning?”

“could ask you the same thing,” he countered.

you hesitated. for some reason, admitting the truth to him felt easier than admitting it to anyone else. “just…needed a break.”

“from?”

“everything,” you said, exhaling slowly. “classes. expectations. people.” you paused, then added with a faint smile, “not you, though. you’re an exception.”

“oh?” his voice lightened, carrying a hint of playful intrigue. “should i feel honored?”

“maybe,” you said. “it’s not every day you get to meet a real hero.” then, “okay, but why do you always hide in the dark?”

his voice is smug, meant to be playful. “it adds to the mystique?”

you pout. “what if i call the police?”

“it’s not like the cops can catch me anyways, baby. their shitty coffee and donut filled asses aren’t enough to keep up with me.”

you really try not to flush when he calls you that pet name. “is success getting to you?”

“what success? most i hear is everyone debating whether or not i should be experimented on.”

“really?” you teased. “that’s not what i saw on my for you page last time. there are girls out there who want you to sign their tits after you rescued that baby.”

then, you hear the soft thud of nimble feet dropping onto the ceiling and turn your head to see him in all his glory. he has a muscular figure highlighted in his white suit, blue and black lines traveling their way across his body. casually, he stretches and then drops down to the floor, sitting cross legged from across from you as if joining you in a regular gossip sesh. he puts his elbow on his knee and rests his head on his hand. “are you one of those girls?”

you laugh sheepishly, turning away as heat creeps up your face again and your heart hammers, because you can’t exactly tell him that, yes you’re absolutely enamored with him after he saved you that day and yes, you do indeed want him to sign your tits.

“you should do that more,” he said.

“what?” you look back at him, wide eyed in confusion. 

“laugh.”

the way he said it, low and almost reverent, made your cheeks heat. you busy yourself with toying with your cardigan, scooting yourself away from the edge and closer to him. “and you should stop being such a flirt,” you said, though there was no bite in your voice.

“can’t help it,” he said, leaning closer. “it’s kind of my thing.”

“is that right?”

“mm-hmm.” he paused, then added, “you know, there’s something i’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“what?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

“take my mask off.”

the words hit you like a gut punch, dissolving the playfulness that had filled the air seconds ago. you blinked up at him, searching his face—or at least what you could see of it—for any sign that this was some elaborate joke. but there was no hint of humor, no smirk tugging at his lips. he meant it.

your fingers hovered at your sides, hesitant. “are you sure?” the question came out soft, barely audible, but it felt like it echoed in the quiet night.

“never been more sure of anything,” he murmured, voice low and steady.

you swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. slowly, almost against your better judgment, you reached up, fingertips brushing the edge of his mask. the fabric felt smooth, warm under your touch, but your nerves were anything but.

with a deep breath, you peeled it back. bit by bit, his face came into view—a shock of white hair, impossibly sharp features, and finally, those eyes. those unmistakable, infuriatingly familiar blue eyes. your breath caught, and for a moment, the world tilted sideways.

“gojo?”

the name fell from your lips before you could stop it, unsteady and disbelieving. your mind raced, trying to piece together the impossible puzzle that had just landed in front of you.

he grinned—that grin, the one that always made you want to slap it off his face and yet somehow managed to disarm you every single time. “hey.”

“hey?” your voice cracked as you took a step back. “that’s all you have to say? hey?”

“would you prefer, ‘surprise’?” he quipped, his grin widening as though this was the most normal thing in the world.

you laughed, the sound a little hysterical but real, like you couldn’t contain the storm of emotions rushing through you. “surprised? you’ve been… you’ve been spider-man this whole time?” the words felt foreign on your tongue, like they didn’t belong in the same sentence as gojo satoru—the one you’d argued with in class, the one who had no problem making you want to tear your hair out. and yet here he was, standing in front of you, the last person you ever would have suspected to be the city’s most infamous masked hero.

gojo gave you that crooked grin, the same one he wore when he thought he had won—when he thought he had it all figured out. “i know. it’s a lot to take in.”

you stared at him, trying to make sense of it, but no amount of logic could bridge the gap between the gojo you knew—the guy who drove you up the wall in class and always had a cocky comeback—and the masked hero who had saved you and the one you had a crush on.

you didn’t know whether to scream, laugh, or cry. 

you take a shaky breath in, still trying to process everything. “you... you saved me, gojo. you’ve been right there, all these times, and i had no idea it was you.”

“guess i’m just that good at keeping secrets,” he said, his tone playful, but there was something more there, something softer, that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. his eyes held a flicker of something—maybe vulnerability, maybe uncertainty.

the weight of the moment hung thick in the air between you, and for a long second, you didn’t know what to say. this revelation was like the ground beneath you had cracked wide open, and you were left staring into an abyss that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

finally, you shook your head, letting out a short breath. “this is insane.”

he didn’t seem bothered by your reaction, though his eyes darkened just slightly, the smirk still there, but with something a little more honest creeping into his expression. “yeah. but you’re handling it better than i thought. kinda thought you would faint, or something.”

the world had shifted, but somehow, with gojo now sitting in front of you like this, with the mask off and the man behind the myth revealed, it felt like the pieces were finally starting to fall into place. even if they didn’t make perfect sense yet.

and yet, something about his presence—his undeniable realness—felt oddly grounding. he wasn’t the invincible spider-man anymore. he was just gojo. the gojo who had somehow become more than just your academic rival, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit more than that.

something in gojo’s facial expression shifted to something a bit more hesitant, a little nervous as he stands and extend his arm out to you. softly, he asks, “do you trust me?”

“yes.” you took his hand, standing up as he flashes you a charming, yet mischievous grin, one so shit eating that you regret saying that. “why?”

“i’m taking you for a ride. consider it an apology for freaking you out earlier.”

you hesitated, looking between his outstretched hand and the city skyline just beyond your college campus. “i don’t think this is a good idea—”

“you trust me, don’t you?”

and somehow, against all logic, you realized that you did.

“fine,” you said, stepping closer to him to cling onto him. 

he pulls you closer, and as he does so, he cranes his neck down to meet your eyes, smiling giddy. “anywhere you wanna go?”

you think for a moment, but know immediately the place where you’d like to visit that’s open at this ungodly hour. “do you know that one shawarma joint—-”

before you can even finish, the wind whips around you as gojo slips his mask back on, pulls you closer to him, and uses his free hand—that is, the one that’s not clinging onto your firmly—to shoot a glistening web, one that you saw when he used it on the man who harassed you in the ally. it clings onto a nearby building, and then you’re off the ground, soaring through the air.

you let out a scream of terror against gojo’s chest, tightening your arms around him. you can feel a laugh rumble in his chest, a boyish chuckle as he peers down at you and shouts, “are you having fun?” 

“gojo,” you whine, burying your head into his chest further. despite your initial fear, exhilaration creeps its way into you as you the city blur, skyline jumping and dipping as gojo effortlessly swung you both around. 

when he finally stopped, landing gracefully on a secluded rooftop, you were breathless—not just from the ride but from the way he was looking at you.

“you good?” he laughed, panting from the exertion and tenderly using his hand to rake his hand through your  hair, which, you note out of embarrassment, must’ve been messed up from the wind passing through it.

“i hate that you made me dizzy, but yea, i’m good,” you mumble, pulling out your phone to open your camera, fixing your hair.

when you’re done, gojo looks at you with the manic buzz you can only have at 3am. “ready to get some shawarma?”

…

the streets were eerily quiet, the kind of silence only a city at 3am could have. just the two of you, your footsteps echoing against the pavement, the occasional glow of a streetlamp painting your path.

“okay, that shawarma was like, mid at best,” gojo walks alongside you. he’s thrown on a sweatshirt and gray sweatpants over his suit, walking alongside you on the street. your stomachs are full, and you suggested a walk to be able to digest the bigass bowl you both ate.

“nothing tastes better than something you’re eating when you’re supposed to be studying, instead,” you shot back, hiding your little smile as you cross your arms while strolling. the shift between you and gojo was so jarring that you’re still reeling at it, but what is 3am if not for big life changes?

“yea, that’s fair,” he sighs, crossing his hands behind his head as he continues strolling beside you.  “so,” he continues, “now that i’ve officially blown your mind with my secret identity and fed you some incredibly mid shawarma, what’s next? should i fly you to paris, or is that too cliché?”

you roll your eyes, but deep inside, you’re really biting back a grin. “relax, bugboy. maybe first let me recover from being swung like a human pendulum.”

gojo stopped walking, turning to face you with a playful glint in his eye. “you’re still thinking about that, huh? admit it—you loved it.”

you raised an eyebrow. “i screamed into your chest for a solid ten seconds. does that sound like love to you?”

he tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “i dunno. there’s a fine line between terror and thrill. and judging by how tightly you were holding onto me…”

“you’re insufferable,” you muttered, but your voice lacked bite.

“and yet, you’re still here.”

his words hung in the air, the playful edge softening into something quieter, more sincere. your steps faltered, and you looked up at him, the absurdity of the night fading into the background as your gaze held his.

“guess i’m curious,” you admitted.

“curious, huh?” he said, taking a step closer. “careful. curiosity killed the cat.”

without thinking, you blurted, “at least i’ve got a fifty-fifty shot, right?” the words barely left your mouth before the regret hit, your inner voice screaming at you for making a lame quantum mechanics joke at a time like this. schrödinger would be proud, you thought bitterly.

but then gojo laughed—not the teasing, obnoxious kind of laugh or the weird look you’d expect, but a genuine, boyish chuckle that reached his eyes. he smiled at you, soft and unguarded, and suddenly, the space between you seemed to shrink.

the flickering streetlamp cast a warm, uneven glow over the two of you. in that moment, the sprawling city felt impossibly small, narrowed down to just him and the pounding of your heart in your ears.

gojo reached up, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “you know,” he murmured, his voice low, “i’ve been wanting to do this for a while now.”

your breath hitched, heart thundering in your chest. “do what?”

“this.”

before you could respond, he closed the space between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was somehow both soft, yet electrifying. for a moment, time seemed to stop, the city around you fading into nothing as the warmth of his touch anchored you in the moment.

when he finally pulled back, his grin was back in full force. “so, was that better or worse than shawarma?”

you blinked at him, still trying to find your footing in the aftermath of what just happened. an immediate feeling of bashfulness crept over you because not only did you just kiss spiderman, you just kissed gojo. there are girls who would kill to be in your position, and that makes you flustered as you turn your head away from him so you don’t have to make eye contact. “i hate you,” you mumble half heartedly, cheeks burning.

gojo doesn’t let you off so easily. his thumb brushes gently along your chin, coaxing your face back toward his. his touch is warm, deliberate, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“oh my god,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. “are you embarrassed? you’re so cute.”

when the warmth of his hand leaves your chin, you open your eyes, shocked as you find out that he’s nowhere to be seen. you call out a tentative, “gojo?” 

somewhere behind you, to the left, comes out a muffled shout. “i’m here!” you whip around, your brows furrowing as you follow the direction of his voice. it’s coming from an alley just off the street, dark and bathed in shadows.

“seriously?” you mutter under your breath, your annoyance half-hearted, making your way toward the sound. you find yourself at the mouth of the alley, the dim glow of a distant lamp barely illuminating his silhouette.

gojo’s perched on the side of the wall like it’s the most natural thing in the world, one leg propped up, his mask pulled halfway up to reveal that damn smirk. “you’re slow,” he teases, his tone light and infuriatingly smug.

“what are you doing?” you ask, crossing your arms.

he gestures toward himself. “you came looking for me, didn’t you?”

you roll your eyes, stepping closer despite yourself. “what, did you think i’d just leave you lurking in some alley like a creepy insect?”

“well,” he says, shooting a web to stick on the bottom of some stairs of one of the buildings to hang upside down, “you could’ve left, but i had a feeling you wouldn’t.”

before you could retort, he shoots his web closer to something on top of you, now dangling upside down yet again but his proximity even closer, stealing the air from your lungs. his fingers brush a strand of hair from your face, lingering just long enough to make your knees feel unsteady.

“so,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, “are we doing this again, or are you gonna keep pretending you hate me?”

your heart stutters, but before you can overthink it, you pull his mask down even further to uncover more of his lips, and you join them together—this time, softer, slower, as if savoring the moment. you grab at his chin to pull him closer to you, you both sighing into the kiss, and then smiling giddily each time you pull back, only to come back in.

and just like that, you start to fall into…something with not only the vigilante that’s swinging around new york, but also gojo satoru, your long-time rival.

…

when satoru swings by your dorm next, he doesn’t expect his heart to lurch so much at the view of you so cozy.

it’s undeniable; you and satoru have been dancing around each other. you’re not exactly a hook-up to each other—you two haven’t had sex—but you’re not exactly girlfriend and boyfriend. and it’s not something casual, either. he doesn’t reveal that he’s spiderman just to get into girls’ pants. 

you’ve both developed a sort of rapport, he supposes. it’s been stolen glances during phys401 and late nights spent talking or, occasionally, making out. you’ve even started to nurse his wounds, if he ever shows up with bruises and blood matting his suit. one of the perks of you having a single. 

he’s even fallen asleep overnight, especially on friday nights when he doesn’t have lecture in the morning. some of his things, like some spare equipment and suits, have even found their way into your closet. 

you’re both on a dangerous roller coaster, and satoru is closing his eyes on the fall down. 

but right now, he’s perched outside your window like a creep. you’re sitting on your bed, cross-legged and squinting at something on your laptop, and satoru smiles to himself as he sees your tank top and shorts and just how homey you look. you probably know satoru is coming, but you’re so comfortable around him that it makes his heart ache. he shouldn’t be doing this, but he can’t stop.

satoru lightly taps on your window, his knuckle brushing against the glass softly, not wanting to startle you. you glance up, catching sight of him, and there’s no hiding the smile tugging at your lips.

you get up, and satoru follows the movement of your bare legs with his eyes as you slide the window open. “you know, most people knock on doors like normal humans,” you say.

“i like to keep things interesting,” he shoots back, climbing in effortlessly. the faint chill from the night clings to him, and his hair is slightly disheveled from the wind.

he glances around your room, catching sight of your scattered notes and the distinct look of frustration etched across your face. “what’s got you looking so miserable?”

“phys401,” you reply with a resigned sigh, flopping back onto your bed. “this problem set is impossible.”

satoru smirks, peeling off his gloves and mask and plopping down beside you. “let me see.”

acquiescing, you hand over your notebook, watching as he scans your work with intent, eyebrows scrunching as he tries to understand the statement to prove. he makes a few thoughtful noises, before grabbing a pen and scribbling something down. “here,” he says after a moment, “you’re overcomplicating this step. instead of doing the tensor product you did, you could just make this zero by taking an inner product, since they’re orthogonal states. the rest will fall into place.”

you squint at his messy, rushed handwriting, and sure enough, the proof seems to come together. “how are you so good at this?” 

“physics prodigy, remember?” he teases, leaning back on his hands as he lays down on your bed.

“thanks for the help,” you say softly, your eyes lingering on him a beat too long. he’s kind of dreamy, you think. the moonlight filters across your window, giving his platinum hair a sheen as his cerulean eyes look into yours with kindness. 

his smirk fades, replaced by something softer, something unspoken. “anytime.” he then makes a show of stretching out his limbs, purposely bumping into you with one eye open smugly to observe your reaction, to which you glare at him. he spots your notebook, picks it up, and flips through it. “you know, for someone who complains so much about phys401, you’re not half bad at it,” he teases, scribbling something in the margin of your notes by grabbing a stray pen next to him.  

you roll your eyes, shifting so you’re cross-legged on the bed, facing him. “not all of us are physics prodigies, satoru. some of us actually have to work hard.”  

he chuckles, handing the notebook back to you. “hard work is overrated when you can just charm your way through everything.”  

you snort and joke, “if charm was all it took, i’d have aced the midterm.”  

there’s a beat of silence as you glance down at his notes. he’s corrected a mistake you hadn’t even noticed, and his scrawled proof flows so effortlessly it makes you a little envious. “how do you do that?” you ask, more to yourself than him.  

“do what?”  

“make it look so… easy,” you say, frowning slightly. “everything. physics, life, swinging through the city.”  

satoru leans back on his palms, his smirk softening. “trust me, it’s not as easy as it looks.”  

you glance up at him, surprised by the honesty in his tone. “what do you mean?”  

he shrugs, but there’s something vulnerable in the way his gaze flickers away from yours. “i mean, everyone sees the guy with the jokes and the perfect test scores, but no one sees the late nights or the bruises.” he gestures vaguely to his chest, where you know the bruises from his spider-man escapades hide. “guess i’m just good at pretending.”  

you sit with his words, the weight of them settling between you. “you don’t have to pretend with me, you know,” you say softly.  

his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the mask—the real one—drops. “i know,” he says, just as softly.  

the air between you feels heavier, like the world has shrunk to just the two of you. you’re hyper-aware of how close he is, the faint smell of the night clinging to him, the way his knee brushes against yours.  

“thanks,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “for letting me be here. for…” he trails off, his gaze dropping to your lips before flicking back up.  

your breath catches. “satoru…”  

“yeah?” he says, leaning in slightly, his voice lower now.  

“i…” you trail off, not even sure what you were going to say.  

he leans closer, and it feels like everything around you stills. his hand finds its way to your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. “can i?” he asks, his voice barely audible.  

you nod, and then his lips are on yours.  

the kiss starts tentative, almost shy, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. it deepens, his hand sliding to your waist as you pull him closer. the tension that had been building for weeks—months, maybe—finally snaps, leaving nothing but heat and want in its wake.  

his weight presses you back into the bed, and you can feel his heart racing against yours as he pins you to the bed, now on top of you. his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, warm against your skin, and as his thumb traces shapes into your circle and closer to more sensitive areas, a sigh escapes you.  

that’s when he freezes.  

he pulls back, his breathing uneven, his eyes wide and filled with something like fear. “we can’t,” he says, his voice hoarse.  

your heart drops into your chest.

“why not?” you ask, trying to catch your breath.  

“because,” he says, sitting up and running a hand through his hair and he’s heaving. “because i’m spider-man, and you—” he breaks off, looking anywhere but at you. “you deserve better than this. better than me.”  

you sit up, pulling your shirt back into place and looking at him, hurt. “that’s not your call to make, satoru.”  

“i’m trying to protect you!” he says, his voice rising in agitation. he sits back onto his heels, raking a hand through his hair as he looks at the ceiling, as if in pain.

you can’t believe him. his self-righteousness irritates you to no end, especially after you’ve bared your soul, and now your body to him, something you considered intimate. you feel conflicted—whatever you had, it didn’t have a label. but that didn’t mean that you didn’t want that to be true. badly.

“and who asked you to?” you snap back. “i’m not some damsel in distress who needs saving.”  

“i know that,” he says, his tone softening. “but if something happened to you because of me…” he shakes his head. “i couldn’t live with that.”  

the anger bubbling in your chest boils over, and you snap. “so what? you’re just going to walk away? after everything?”  

he stands, his expression pained. “i’m sorry,” he says, heading for the window.  

“don’t you dare apologize,” you say, your voice trembling as you stand by the foot of your bed, hating how your eyes brim with tears. “if you leave, don’t bother coming back.”  

he pauses, his hand on the window frame, before glancing back at you. “i’m sorry,” he says again, softer this time, before slipping out into the night.  

the window clicks shut behind him, and you’re left alone in the silence, the ache in your chest threatening to swallow you whole. 

…

the whir of the espresso machine and the gentle hum of background music fill the mostly empty starbucks, the occasional customer wandering in like clockwork. it’s a quiet shift, the kind you’d usually relish—except today, the quiet only makes the knot in your chest tighten.

you’re stationed behind the counter, staring blankly at the milk steamer as it hisses, lost in your thoughts. that is, until utahime’s voice breaks through.

“alright, spill,” she says, leaning her elbows on the counter beside you.

you glance at her, eyebrows raised. “spill what?”

utahime rolls her eyes, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “oh, please. you look like someone stole your favorite pen and broke it in half. what’s going on?”

“nothing,” you lie, turning back to the steamer. “i’m fine.”

utahime’s skeptical gaze bores into you. “you’re a terrible liar. nanami, back me up.”

from his spot at a nearby table, nanami looks up from his book, his sharp eyes narrowing as they lock onto you. “it’s boy trouble,” he says flatly, like he’s solving an equation.

your head snaps toward him, a glare already forming. “excuse me?”

“it’s obvious,” he says, setting his book down and regarding you with his usual piercing gaze. “you’re distracted, you look upset—it’s boy trouble.”

utahime perks up, leaning closer. “wait, is he right? is this about a guy?”

you let out a groan, leaning your elbows on the counter. “can you two not gang up on me right now?”

“so it is a guy,” utahime says, her tone turning smug.

“i didn’t say that,” you retort, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you.

nanami raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your deflection. “you might as well just tell us. it’s not like we’re going to let it go.”

you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “fine. it’s… someone i liked. someone i thought liked me too. but he freaked out and said it was too…dangerous to keep going.”

utahime frowns, her curiosity replaced by concern while kento snorts. “dangerous? what does that even mean?”

“that’s what i’d like to know,” you say bitterly, the frustration bubbling up as you speak. “he acts like he cares, but the second things get serious, he bolts. like i’m some fragile thing that can’t handle it.”

nanami leans back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “he might not be scared of you. he could be scared of what it means for him. of responsibility and commitment. some people run when they feel too much.”

utahime nods, her hand resting gently on your arm. “whatever his problem is, it’s not fair to you. if he can’t get it together, that’s on him, not you.”

you glance between them, the weight of their words settling in your chest. “i know that,” you say quietly. “it just… sucks.”

“of course it does,” utahime says, her voice soft but firm. “but you’re not the problem here. don’t let him make you think you are.”

nanami picks up his book again but pauses before opening it. “and don’t let him live rent-free in your head. if he can’t see what he’s giving up, that’s his loss.”

their support feels grounding, like a steady hand in the middle of a storm. you manage a small smile, nodding. “thanks, guys.”

“anytime,” utahime says, flashing you a reassuring grin. nanami simply nods, returning to his book but keeping an eye on you like always. for the first time all week since gojo left your room, the heaviness in your chest feels a little lighter.

…

the knock at your window is faint, almost timid, but it jolts you out of your daze. you sit up in bed, your heart pounding as your eyes dart toward the window. it’s late—so late it’s early—and for a moment, you think you imagined it. you hate to admit it, but because of your boy troubles you haven’t been able to sleep all week. you’re also no stranger to imagining ants crawling up your body or phantom noises, so you adjust in your bed, trying to go back to sleep.

then it comes again, a little louder this time.

you throw off the blanket and pad over, the chill of the floor biting at your bare feet. when you pull the curtain aside, your breath catches.

satoru.

he’s crouched outside, his suit torn in places and soaked with blood. his head lolls slightly, like he’s barely holding himself up, and when he lifts his gaze to meet yours, it’s tired and pleading.

you don’t think—there’s no time for that. you unlatch the window and shove it open, reaching out to help him inside. “satoru, oh my god,” you breathe, your voice shaking.

“hey,” he mutters, his grin weak but still so unmistakably him. “sorry for the mess.”

“shut up,” you snap, guiding him onto your bed and setting him down with gentle hands, ones that contrast your tone with him. “what the hell happened?”

“nothing i couldn’t handle,” he says, wincing as he tries to sit up straighter and flashes you a sheepish smile. “you should see the other guy.”

“you’re bleeding everywhere, satoru. you clearly didn’t handle it.” you grab your first aid kit from under the bed and yank it open, your hands trembling.

“i’ve had worse,” he murmurs, but his bravado is thin, cracking at the edges.

“stop talking,” you say, your voice trembling and cracking. “just—just stop.”

for once, you thank the gods that he listens.

you work quickly, cutting away the shredded fabric of his suit and cleaning the worst of the wounds. it’s not pretty—his torso is littered with bruises and gashes, the kind that make your stomach turn—but you keep your focus.

when you press a disinfectant-soaked pad to a particularly deep cut, he hisses, his hand flying to grab your wrist.

“sorry,” you whisper, glancing up at him with a tender look in your eyes. his expression matches yours, and your faces are so close to each other that you can’t bear it anymore, going back to your work.

his fingers loosen but don’t let go, his grip warm and grounding. “you’re good at this,” he says softly, his voice rough.

“yeah, well,” you mutter, ducking your head to avoid his gaze. “you’ve given me plenty of practice.”

the silence stretches as you finish bandaging him up. when you’re done, you sit back, your hands still trembling as you place them in your lap. “you’re an idiot,” you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

he laughs, soft and hoarse. “yeah. i get that a lot from this girl i know.”

you look up at him, and the weight of everything—his injuries, his secret, the distance he tried to put between you—crashes over you. “you can’t keep doing this, satoru. you can’t keep pushing me away just to show up like this.”

his smile fades, replaced by something raw and unguarded. “i know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “i know, but…”

“but what?” you demand, your voice cracking. “you’re spider-man? you think that’s an excuse to keep shutting me out?”

“it’s not an excuse,” he says, running a hand through his messy hair, matted with even more blood. his or someone else’s, you’re not sure. “it’s a reason. i don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“you think i’m not already hurting?” you snap, the anger bubbling to the surface yet again. “you think it doesn’t kill me to see you like this and know i can’t do anything to stop it?”

his eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks like a little boy, lost and unsure. it is then that it hits you that he’s just twenty. a college student, not someone who’s wanted by the cia or someone who’s battled terrorists. for fucks sake, he can’t even legally drink. 

and your heart can’t help but melt as he says, “i just… i don’t want to lose you.”

“then stop trying to,” you say, your voice softer now. “stop pretending like you’re protecting me by keeping me at arm’s length. let me in, satoru.”

he stares at you, his breath hitching like he’s holding back a thousand words. then, in a rush, he closes the distance between you, his hands cradling your face as he presses his forehead to yours.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry.”

you exhale shakily, your hands finding their way to his wrists. “just stop being an idiot, okay? stop trying to do this alone.”

he nods, his grip tightening like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “i promise,” he says, and for the first time, you believe him.

…

a cramp gripping satoru’s entire leg is what wakes him up. 

he winces in memory of the injury; one of those stupid terrorists had too good of an aim, grazing his leg while he was mid-air. it hurts like a bitch now, and he moves to lay on his back, until something stops him. roses.

he looks, bleary eyed, to you. the floral scent coming from you, making him dizzy. his body cocooning yours. 

you both unconsciously moved in your sleep so that you were spooning, your fragrant hair, soft from shampooing, tickling his throat with your ass in his crotch.

nestled right against his morning wood.

good fucking lord, he groans to himself, then starts to panic because if you wake up and realize he had a raging hard-on while you were sleeping, you would definitely think he was a creep. he’s already on thin fucking ice. so naturally, he starts to recite the star spangled banner while trying to will his boner away.

oh, say can you see—

to no avail, because you huff softly in your sleep, soft and warm body unconsciously leaning back to grind your ass against his lap, turning his dick to steel.

“oh, fuck,” he curses out loud, using his hand to cover the lower half of his face and clench his eyes shut. you feel so sweet, innocently adjusting while he can’t even control his lust for you.

but once the grind seems to continue for a bit too long, more than what can be chalked up as adjusting in your sleep, he peers down at you. you’re awake. 

and because satoru’s selfish, his hands creep up your tank top, settling on your bare stomach, where he knew you were ticklish. as a result, you wiggle, and he uses this opportunity to pull you even closer to him, right up against him. 

“baby,” he says, making his voice all deep and sighs on purpose, just to be unfair to you. “is this okay?”

you whine, and he settles his face in your hair, the strands of it tickling his skin as he inhales in the scent of you. “i thought it was a dream.”

he smiles into your hair. you make him feel like sunshine incarnate, and the rush he’s getting right now is akin to the one he gets jumping off the empire state building. “no, this is very real.”

“hm,” and you continue to drag your ass into him, murmuring in a soft voice that makes him want to take you right there and then, “it still feels like a dream. like you’re not real, right now.”

oh, what he would do to make you say his name in that same voice; he wants to whisper all the things he wants to do to you right now. “i know, baby. you feel like a dream.” his hands continue to slide up and up your torso, groaning at your sharp intake as he gently fondles the softness of your breasts. 

you overwhelm his senses, teasing him, and when you let out a whine of his name, satoru snaps.

“i’m going to make you feel good right now. tell me if it’s a fucking dream,” he grits out, ignoring whatever cramps that were screaming at him to get on top of you. 

you gasp out a “satoru,” wriggling in his grasp, and he can’t take it anymore. he brings up one of his hands. shoots a web that lands right on your left hand. then your right hand.

satoru just tied you up using his webs.

you look at him in whatever version of shock you can muster in your tired state. “satoru, what the—” but you’re muffled, because he’s kissing you, hard, roving his hands up and down your body and grabbing whatever he can as if he’s devouring you while making out with you.

“do you know,” and his eyes flash dangerously while looking down at yours, “how you’ve teased me with these shorts?” his hands trails down to the waistband of the offending piece of clothing, pulling it to make it snap against your skin. you jump, looking at satoru desperately, who’s left you bare at his mercy, subject to his super human strength as he grabs your shorts with both his hands again. “every fucking time i’ve sneaked up in to your room, it’s been so hard to not fuck you senseless in these flimsy things. it’s only fair you pay the price, right baby?”

it’s not like you have anything to answer him with, having lost all brain cells being fucked out like this. he pulls them down, and if he had laser vision, he would have stared through your panties long ago, eyes fixated on the crotch that was nearly translucent with the amount of slick going through it. burying his face right in between your thighs, he noses at your cunt before groaning. then, he uses his teeth to grab onto the middle and pull. until your pussy is bare to him.

“oh, fuck you’re so pretty,” he curses, lapping at your sweetness. his tongue roves up and down your folds, and if your hands could, they would be pulling at his hair solely because you were so sensitive. but you were trapped, thighs gripped in his strong hands and your arms trapped by his ultra-strong webs. “my good girl.”

then, you feel pressure at your opening. “sato—” you squeal but are immediately interrupted by your own moan as he curls his long, thick fingers, eyes observing your every movement as you squirm, electric shocks running up and down your body as he hits your spot dead-on.

and he notices, because the motherfucker chuckles. “oh, so that’s the spot, huh?” he purrs, visibly pleased as he memorizes it and abuses it, hitting it with every stroke. you barely notice him add one finger, add two fingers as he starts to suck on your clit. overwhelmed with pleasure, you’re only brought back to reality when he rips all contact away from you.

“what—” you mumble mindlessly, until you see what he’s doing. he pulls his sweatpants down. and he’s not wearing boxers, so you drool when his cock springs out, leaking copiously and hard. without taking his eyes off you, he pumps it to its fullest length, and you’re just staring in awe at its sheer length.

“what’re you looking at, baby?” he teases, using his hand to wiggle his cock in front of your face to mock you. “want it so bad, isn’t that right?”

you glare at him half-heartedly, but whine regardless. “just put it in, gojo.”

“oh,” and he flashes you a smile that makes a big danger sign in red flash across your mind. “it’s gojo, now is it?”

 “satoru,” there are tears brimming in the corner of your eyes, the ones that make satoru even more aroused at your want, “please. i need it.”

a boyish grin and a forehead kiss that has you reeling at his duality. “anything for my woman in stem.” with that, he pushes in, both of your eyes rolling back as his cock is engulfed by your gummy walls. soon after, he starts thrusting, desperation fueling both of you as you cross your legs behind gojo’s back, the deeper angle making his thighs shake while fucking into you. 

he grabs your face, gives you a tender kiss. “fuck, i love this pussy. so sweet for me.” 

you give him a wanton moan in return as he continues to thrust deep, tender strokes into you. “satoru, ‘m not gonna last long.” with the amount of foreplay he’s done alongside how sensitive you are, you’re steadily reaching your orgasm already, and with the way satoru’s now tightly gripping the sheets beside you while thrusting inside you, he is too.

wet squelching noises echoes across the room, and you know the neighbors can hear the obscene plap! plap! plap! coming from skin meeting skin, your hips against his. he buries his face into your neck, panting at your ear until he uses his hand to wrench your face towards his.

“i love you,” he groans, forcing your eyes to meet his. “i love you forever and will do so. so you can’t break my heart,” and he’s desperately thrusting again, “and you can’t leave me. please.”

at his confession, you break, back arching as you also squeal out a iloveyou while gasping loudly, hips rolling to rise against his as he fucks you through your orgasm. quickly, his thrusts veer into overstimulation and you whine. “toru.” he takes one look at your state—face impossibly flushed, hands tied, and pussy absolutely engulfing his cock, and his orgasm hits him like a truck, making him gasp and bend and break as he goes to heaven and back with the aftershocks of your orgasm making your pussy clench around him so beautifully. his cum enters you in hot spurts, making you exhale sharply at the feeling as he comes down from his orgasm, collapsing next to you.

for a few minutes, heavy breathing fills the room, both of you catching your breaths. until satoru breaks the silence. “so, what’s it like to fuck a superhero?”

you take one look at him—all smug and propped up on his elbow—and spidey sense be damned as you try grab a pillow. key word is try because you’re then wrenched back with a reminder that you’re still bound. “satoru,” and you give him a sickly sweet smile, the one that he knows means he’s in trouble, “when are these going to dissolve?”

and satoru pretends to be deep in thought, but you can see him trying to inch off the bed slowly, as if to escape your wrath after his answer. “uhm…maybe five hours?”

if it weren’t for the damn spidey sense that he had, he wouldn’t have been able to escape the swing of your legs as you looked at him murderously. “satoru gojo you will unhand me from these webs this instant—-“

“i don’t know,” he shrugs, shit eating grin in his face. “you look kinda sexy in bed like this. mad at me.” but when your eyes flash with anger, he hiccups nervously, telltale of the fact he won’t mess with you.

“i hate you,” you groan out, pouting like a petulant child while you glare at the ceiling.

 satoru comes close to you to bend at his waist and give you a forehead kiss. “no, you don’t.” 

you give him a pointed glare, telling him not to be testy. “clean me up. now.”

at your expression, his eyes widen in fear and he salutes. “anything for you, ma’am.”

at his retreating form, you giggle and sigh to yourself. you never would’ve known that spider-man would be the one fetching a clean up rag for you after fucking the shit out of you, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

when satoru comes back, he cleans you up, tenderly, as if he is afraid that you will break. you’re a little drowsy when he returns to you, but he doesn’t dare try to wake you up when he hears little breaths from your nose indicating you’ve fallen asleep. after he finishes his job, he admires your features.

satoru lingers for a moment, his gaze softening as he watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest. the weight of his responsibilities presses on him, as it always does, but tonight, it feels heavier—like a tether pulling him between the life he’s chosen and the life he craves.

you, so peaceful in sleep, represent something fragile, something precious. and that terrifies him. because what if he fails? what if the cost of being spider-man is losing the one thing that feels real?

still, he knows he can’t walk away—not from this city, not from you. with a deep breath, he leans down and presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead, a silent promise lingering in his chest.

“i’ll keep you safe,” he murmurs, barely audible. “no matter what.”

instead of leaving, satoru settles down beside you, careful not to disturb your rest. the city can wait, just for a little while. for now, he wraps an arm around you, grounding himself in the warmth of your presence. as your breathing evens out against him, he lets his own eyes drift shut, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily lifting. today, he chooses to stay.

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

a/n ok if you're ever curious what being fucked in the ass with a wooden dildo no lube is like, just try to write this fic or any longfic. it's 4am, this a/n is short and unintelligble just like most of this fic but it's been a journey, im very sentimental because of this fic and i hope you guys like it. ok im going to pass out so pls ignore all typos xoxo but please flood my inbox im excited to see yalls reactions when i wake up

plspls pls comment and reblog!!!

TAGLIST

@sugoroo @ryutotsukai0824 @sharkubi @lisvanrouge @mxlktae

@samisfunky @achbbys000 @xd3pr3ss3dx @jottositto @cheescakebroom

@r0ckst4rjk @callmeagardengnome @rottmntrulesall @blankwashed @sindulgent666

@honeynanamin @obsessgurlll @starrnai @herefor-tojis-tits @ramonathinks

@creamflix

prt one

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

(if u asked to be tagged and ur not here i apologise i am just a girl anyways pt 3 will be a full fic thxies)

JJK SPOILER ALERT!!!

I can't accept that gojo's body was not buried. It was displayed sure, but surely there was someone who stole the body and buried him. Someone who would remember the name Satoru gojo forever and not just the strongest. Someone who saw him as a human and not just a weapon.

@screampied diamond boy made me feel things

Canon version here

Imagine Gojo, begging him not to nut in you and to use a condom instead. He says yes surprisingly quickly, all smiles. Then he puts you in a mating press, legs up by your ears and goes to town on you. When your done doing the do he pulls out, shit eating grin on his face, quickly he takes off the dom, flips it inside out and empties the contents right back into your twitching, unsuspecting pussy. You cry out but he has you trapped. Legs still above your head, he parts your lips and continues.

You can try to push him away to no avail, his grin growing wider. You can desperately try and push his seed out, begging him to stop, telling him that you’re not on birth control, that you seriously could get pregnant from this, that he’s a sicko for what he’s doing to you. That earns you a dark chuckle and two skilled fingers at the entrance of your cunt, pushing his sloppy cum back into your well used pussy.

The message is very clear. Gojo can do whatever he wants with you, you are in no position to refuse.

being a satosugu shipper is only shipping them with each other and no one else but also secretly wanting to be their third

September One Shot Voting Poll & Update

Hello everyone, it's heirloomgem here. I hope you have enjoyed last month's fanfic.

Anyway, before we go for this month's voting poll, I have a little announcement to make.

It's a little sudden but any update or publishing of a one-shot may take longer than usual because I'm having surgery on my arm because of work.

And with the busy season coming at my workplace, after surgery, I will be plunged into work right away, and I won't have much time to recuperate or to write at all.

So I apologize for the slower pace. I might only post one fic for a while or if some unforeseeable accident happens at work, I might go into a little break even though I just started getting active again here, I apologize.

I'll write as much as possible and schedule some fic to post.

But anyway, I won't delay with the voting.

Here are the choices for this month.

P.S. You are more than welcome to send a request for the monthly one-shot.

JJK/Jujutsu Kaisen

Gojo Satoru

Geto Suguru

Ryomen Sukuna

Zenin Toji

Nanami Kento

One Shot

No one else But you - [Nanami Kento x Reader September One-Shot Genre: AU, Romance, Angst, Fluff]

Status: The request box is open only for the monthly one-shot voting if the characters are chosen.

thinking about sneaking around with brother's best friend!satoru who can't wait to fuck you once the both of you are alone.

"as much as i love to hear your voice, pretty girl," he breathes harshly in your ear, hips rutting up and plowing his cock deeper and deeper into your already cum-slobbering pussy. "we don't want your brother hearing us now, do we?"

it had started off with satoru, who had ever so kindly invited himself over to your place again, albeit with his usual arrogance and annoying conceitedness—though if you were the satoru gojo, you'd probably act just as cocky as him. his visits consisted of lazily lounging around on the sofa, watching tv with your brother, and most importantly, teasing you when your brother wasn't around.

"satoru, please," you moan beneath his saliva-coated palm, feeling your eyes roll back with each mind numbing thrust, fucking his dick into you to the hilt. "please, toru, 'm gonna come."

your brother had made it clear to satoru that he did not want him getting too touchy with you, much less near you.

if only he knew just how close the both of you are to each other now.

"hah, i know, can feel you squeezing me— f-fuck, so tightly." satoru's tongue rolls out with a whine, wetting his bottom lip which is creased with teeth marks. he forces you further down, moving his hand, adorning the fingers your pussy eagerly memorized the shapes of, away from your mouth to push your head down against the bathroom counter.

a gasp catches in your throat when satoru begins fucking you with more vigor and zeal, all the while, your walls convulse and pull his lengthy, throbbing cock in yearningly.

"cum for me, baby, please. all f'me. need you to cum."

satoru captures your lips in a messy, sloppy kiss, moaning into your mouth as he finally feels you gushing around him, causing him to spurt his sticky load into you with a lewd squelch of his hips. he strokes your tongue with his own, gooily swirling it around before pulling away with a satisfied pant, pushing a few strands of hair away from your face.

"one more round before your brother comes home?"

virgin!satoru whimpers when you sink down on his cock for the first time.

his lengthy cock is just so sensitive, used to the feeling of his own hand wrapped around it. however, it does not live up to the feeling of your convulsing walls that are generously squeezing oh so deliciously around him. your slick, puffy folds meet his base as he bottoms out inside you and he can barely stop himself from cumming.

i mean, can you really blame him?

satoru's hips jerk up, head falling back, and his bottom lip is caught between his teeth. he grabs at your hips—desperately so—and kneads at the pliant skin, trying to find anything to ground himself from the euphoric bliss your cunt was giving him.

his fat tip's pushing against the gummy spot inside you, nudging your cervix with a needy twitch. you grind your hips down agonizingly slowly, pressing a hand down against his abdomen to keep him still.

he whines in response and fuck does he sound pretty when he does.

"puh—lease..." satoru begs, his neck craning to try kiss your glossy, spit-covered lips.

"poor s'toru... do you need me that bad?" you purr, dragging a tongue across his bottom lip, continuing to teasingly roll your hips before raising them up just enough for his cock to almost slip out. almost.

you sink back down on him, taking in his cunt drunk expression, repeating the same motion over and over and over until you're bouncing up and down on his dick. you can feel each individual vein on it, especially the one on the underside of his cock which throbs every time you clench.

satoru tries really hard to keep himself from moving, he really does, but he can't take how good your weeping pussy feels around him.

he plants his feet on the bed and eagerly thrusts up into you, using his grip on your hips to guide your movements on top of him. his tongue lolls out and he sits up a bit to suck on one of your nipples, bringing a hand up to fondle your other tit as you ride him. the sounds are absolutely filthy.

plap plap plap!

your ass smacks against satoru's heavy, aching balls with each sloppy thrust of his hips meeting yours.

even as satoru empties ropes and ropes of cum inside of you, your walls quivering in tandem with his relentless, unapologetic thrusts, you only find yourself on your back as he fucks you deep into the mattress, showing no signs of stopping.

your hand languidly reaches up to rub the sleep from your eyes. your nose scrunches up as you squint from the sunlight peeking through your drapes. it must be well into the day by now, and as much you'd like to stay in bed, there are things you wanted to get done today. you try to get out of bed, shimmying your way out in an effort to savour the warmth of your cozy bed as long as you can, before feeling a hand softly tug at your shirt. as you turn on your side, you're met with your pouting husbands groggy gaze, squinting at you with eyes full of the most breathtaking shade of blue you've been obsessed with since high school. "stay with me sweets, just a bit longer..?" Satoru pleads, his voice low and gravelly as he lifts his arm up, inviting you into his warm embrace. how could you turn him down? you crawl into his arms, wrapping yours around his neck as he wraps his around you, one going up your shirt (it's actually his shirt, but you both love it when you steal his clothes) to graze your bare back, the other groping your plush ass, pulling you in closer to plant a kiss on your forehead. you rake your fingers through his glossy locks, placing a few soft kisses along his collarbone before nuzzling into the crook of his neck as the amount of comfort and bliss you give him sends him right back into his slumber. you feel safe in his arms, he makes you feel home. your sleepiness begins to overpower you, your eyelids fluttering shut. when every second spent with you is this perfect, a bit longer could never hurt.

dividers by @thecutestgrotto check her out <3

The biting section!!!!!! ESPECIALLY WITH KENMA, MIDORIA, MEGUMI, AND ALL THE OTHER SWEET BOYS!!!!!!

𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄𝐒?

bitting: he loves marking your body, whether you two are doing nothing, but standing in line or doing the do. he’s always bitting your shoulders, upper neck and thighs, but it's mainly to keep himself from moaning or whimpering too loud.

“haah.” groaning in your ear with your body at maxium arch, continuously hitting against your cervix. "so much." whinny moans slipping past your lips within each second as your body jolted near the head board, "take it for me baby." he groaned in a low tone against your neck, thrust becoming harsher than before, his arms wrapped firmly around your waist as he lost control over his voice. "f-fuuck fuck." whining into your neck while his thrusts became sloppier, legs quivering as pleasure flooded your core. "bouta cum.. i-inside." a lovely tone left his voice before feeling warmth hover over your neck as you felt a hot stinging sensation. "mmmphm." a broken moan left your throat as strings of groans muffled against your neck.

— kenma, ARMIN, jean, sugawara, akashi, goshiki, MEGUMI, inumaki, yuta, takeda, midoriya

hickies: simply because he loves the seeing his marks on your body, basically telling anyone who glances in your direction that your already taken and that someone being him. he doesn't get off more than just admiring the marks alongside your neck and reminiscing on how they got there.

"just like that sweet girl." his hands placed on your waist bouncing you up and down his cock, heated bodies bumping against each other. "ahh fuuck." sweet moans left your lips as you threw you head back exposing the naked skin of your neck, inviting his tongue to glid across your skin as he began thrusting into your your pussy, repeatedly grinding against that sweet spot inside you while still bouncing you up and own. hips connecting as your tight cunt squeezed around him. "feels that good, yeah?" his mouth latched onto your skin once against as your insides began to turn, creaming on his dick.

— tsukishima, kuroo, KIRISHIMA, bakugo, iwazumi, ukai, geto, TOJI, eren, reiner, matsukawa, hawks, gojo, ace, CROCODILE, oikawa, suna, miya twinss, KID, ace

bitting & hickies: whatever comes to him in the moment happens. it's almost like an instict for him, but either way he loves marking your body with his mouth.

— TENDOU, denki, sukuna, aone, yamamoto, bokuto, sukasa, LUFFY, zoro

an: I’ll proofread tmrw!! sorry if there’s mistakes xx

Gojo x reader; A nightmare that couldn’t hope to exist again

So I uh saw the newest leaks on jjk, and I wanted to be heavily comforted as I don’t know how to feel about it. Don’t worry this doesn’t contain the leaks, this is a what if scenario (info down below)

Here’s just some comfort as a what if, what if maybe after everything they somehow revive Gojo? I mean this Gojo right? He’s not a regular sorcerer…right? This is honestly to comfort me, don’t come at me if he’s truly truly gone.

Tw: Nightmares, fluff, Au of post canon where everything is saved and all, because I don’t know how the ending will go yet, ptsd, SPOILERS LIKE HUUUGE-

Poke poke

…

poke poke poke

…

poke poke poke po-

“ALRIGHT, I’m up I’m yawn, up, wha- OW!” His waist was still sensitive as heck, no wonder, he was slash- no, SPLIT, literally. Gojo groans as he blears out from his sleepiness due to the insistent poking, the poking who he assumes is coming from you, “listen I know you want me up but could you turn on the lamp? It would be easier to se- yelp agh…shoulda warned me, gosh my eyes… rub rub I hope it’s not to early, otherwise I won’t be able to sleep” he continues to ramble out of sleep for a bit and turns to you, or more surprisingly, your back.

Now that he thinks about it you haven’t done or said anything, minus the poking of course. “Hello…? Uh your awakened husband is here, seriously you can’t just poke me awake as I’m recovering from, well I dunno…MY BODY SPLITTING IN HALF and just remain in the edge all quiet and everything.” He tried to sound playful but you didn’t move, it was almost like you didn’t hear him, and suddenly he felt chills.

What if maybe…he was still out there, rotting in half? What if he left you behind..? What if what if what if-

He didn’t realise he reached out for you unconsciously until he felt the warmth of your skin and you turned your head slowly, not enough for him to see your face but well…enough for him to know you acknowledged his presence, he runs his fingers up and down your back “hey, uh, you okay? You woke me up and yet you seem so…distant and odd, love you know I’m here right?” He hesitated before holding your shoulder, where he felt the trembling and realised why you weren’t facing him, why you were so quiet. You turned around facing him which confirmed it, you were crying. With this knowledge he wasted no time in sitting up at the headboard despite his waist screaming otherwise and trying to situate you in his lap, which came along with your protests;

“Satorou! No I can’t…it’s still healing!”

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I’m alive and it’s not like it’s gonna fall off.”

“It’s still healing, what if it gets infected due to a blood clot or something! Satorou I can’t, even if you claim it’s okay I won’t be okay…so please..”

The fear and helplessness is your voice is what got him to stop, so, rather than you sitting on his lap he had you both lie down and cuddle up to each other, making sure you were comfy while also proving he was comfortable aswell. He kept kissing your face, wherever his lips could touch as a gesture of comfort, he wanted you to feel, to know he was here, and he also wanted to know that he was here. He kept you against him while running his fingers up and down like earlier in a comforting manner, hoping to soothe you.

“…so, my scrumptious little dollop of happiness, love a-“ “Satorou don't you dare,” you interrupted with a giggle, both cringing and giggling at the super long phrase he tried to give you “haha! Just wanted to make you laugh, or atleast a it happier darling. Seeing that you giggled I had done an amazing job, right sweetheart?” He said as he kissed your cheeks, to which you giggled.

“Seeing that my first job is done, we are moving to the second job!” He said as his voice toned down slightly, “and that is finding out why you were crying when I woke up, my lovely spouse here shouldn’t be crying as I was sleeping, oh do tell me if it was the snoring, wait that explains as to why you were poking me aggressively!” He said dramatically to which you chuckled “no no Satorou, I’m sorry I woke you up, I just…I had a horrible nightmare about…about you and I thought you were…let’s just say I needed you, I needed you talking to me, touching me, I mean the warmth is enough but you sleeping, considering how your body has been…I just needed to see you alive” You mumbled the last part out quieter but he caught it. He didn’t know that his sleeping was THAT bad, he was told by Shoko that he slept like a dead man, but to make his one and only think that too? It broke his heart seeing you crying because of him, because he looked dead, and while you trailed off he had a good idea as to what you might have dreamed about, sure you weren’t out there but you knew the contents of his…death. Hmm…

”Is that so darling? Hm…what to do, this is rather a pickle isn’t it? Well as much as I would love to say that everything will be okay…I can’t confirm it considering the situation is still unknown,” he murmured while stroking your hair, you tensed against him as you knew this, but didn’t want to hear it. “However, Yuji and Shoko both are on my case, they refuse to leave me alone, and are basically forcing me into temporary leave, heck maybe considering my condition they will force me to retire all together,” he said with a joking tone which made you smirk. “I don’t know what will happen, for despite my amazing capabilities I cannot tell the future, if I could I wouldn’t have been split in half now would I? Hey…no I meant is as a joke, no I’m sorry I didn’t mean to dampen the mood..” he said upon realising you were tensing, fretting over his words,”damn it…I really suck with comforting don-“ “yes,”you deadpanned.

“…haha, did you really need to call me out?” He said awkwardly, when he got no reply he just continued running his hand up and down your back, the atmosphere eventually got comforting. The night was quiet, minus the ticking of the clock, and the wind outside, it was cozy and warm, safety was guaranteed, yet your trembling had yet to cease, he was about to speak up again when you interrupted him,

“I always hated your cockiness you know?” He looked down at you, “I hated how you always assumed you would win due to your abilities, it was because of that, that you became reckless and lazy, and even when fighting against a formidable enemy you still remained confident no? How do you think I felt in regards to that?” Gojo wasn’t stupid or deaf, you would always complain about his recklessness and how he could die, to which he would always brush off, one day it even lead in a fully fledged argument between you both, which lasted for days on end until you both broke the silence, realising that it wasn’t healthy for either of you to continue with this silence since you both had issues taking care of yourselves. That’s not to say your worries ceased, nor his cockiness, but he promised to be more careful, and well…he was cut in half. “I knew you know? I knew that the jobs were dnagerous and I knew you weren’t guaranteed a happy ending or anything, especially with your cockiness and all,” happy ending? Damn you had unique phrases didn’t you.

“I hate you so much, I hate you for making me worry! I hate you for dying! I hate you for making me grieve and mourn!” You kept crying over and over and letting your resentment be known until “I hate myself for being weak, for being unable to protect you…” Gojo froze at that, while he was aware of your worries, he wasn’t aware of how it affected the image you projected onto yourself, the fact that you couldn’t help him on the field, the fact that he surpassed you miles ahead, and the fact that he basically died. He thought about it for a moment before finally speaking up:

“I won’t lie to you, I haven’t necessarily been thinking about your needs on the field, or in general despite the fact that I love you. Getting stronger, teaching my students and defeating curses were mainly on my mind. For that, I am really sorry…but that doesn’t mean I loved you any less. If anything I’m at fault for not taking you into consideration, because the last thing I want to do is break my dearest spouses heart. Now that everything has changed, if there are curses they are most likely not strong, something I could take out within minutes, seconds even…hey dont give me that look, I’m not being cocky.” He trembled under your glare..

“Okay, maybe I’m being a little cocky, but that isn’t my point. The point is, the curses are weakened drastically and if that’s not the case then they are gone for good. Regardless of the outcome we don’t have to worry about danger, for we both are capable enough to defend ourselves, you with your self defence and me with my abilities. Don’t you see what this means?” He wiped the stains off your cheeks. “Just because everything is over doesn’t mean the pain and suffering will go away immediately, heck maybe never, I know Yuji will be unstable for a while, but that isn’t all there is. I’m not young, but I’m not old either, same with you. We still have a life to lead you know?” He pulled you against his chest while smiling, a soft smile reserved for his closest ones, like you. “So let’s live with happiness moving forward. Whenever you suffer I’ll be there to support you, just as I expect you to do the same. Let us live our lives to the fullest, like a normal married couple, it is my job as your husband to make you the happiest person alive no?” He murmured softly. You listened intently while resting against his chest, and then you spoke up:

“Can you at least promise me that you will remain safe moving forward? That you will take care of yourself?” You asked, looking at him expectantly, to which he hesitated a bit, to which you spoke up once again, “you said it yourself, there are no more major threats with the curses, so you shouldn’t be out there fighting and returning home all banged up, so it’s impossible for you to be able to break said promise…unless you plan to pull something?” You eyed him suspiciously to which he spoke up quickly,” NO! I uh…I mean no, I wouldn’t dare, and your right about the curses…so yes, I promise that I won’t ever put myself in danger recklessly ever again, and that I will make sure I return to you, in one piece, not two- OW!” He winced at your smack, however you were satisfied, and with that you snuggled up to him. A comfortable silence ensued again, until you asked one last question:

“Satorou…you said we would have a future of happiness earlier…what future do you envision when thinking of that? I mean I can’t expect life to be simple for you after everything that’s occurred…” He was silent for a long time, until he replied, “honestly I don’t know, I just tend to dream about your happy face, and me being by your side, touching you, kissing you, loving you, and living a happy life with each other, heck maybe even with a child,” he smiled at the thought.

“…then let’s make it come true.” You finalised, to which he looked down raising an eyebrow. “Let’s make your dream come true, for that is now my dream as-well! A dream like that…is a thousand times better than the nightmares.” You said with sparkling eyes, the first genuine emotion of happiness you showed that night.

He smiled, but didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to, for all his words could be felt with his eyes, hands and body. He wanted nothing more then to secure that future, and so he squeezed you a bit tighter, to which you reciprocated, and just like that, both you and him dreamed.

He dreamed of you, your smiling face, your laughter, your iconic glaring face, you scolding him, and just living a happy life.

You dreamed of him, his smiling, his laughter, his face when he is trying to hide from your scolding. A happy life with a happy man, and even a glimpse of a child, a child you desired to have with him.

You both didn’t know if the world would even be safe, and knew that a “happily ever after” was near impossible for sorcerers or those within the circle, especially with someone like Gojo who had been different from the other sorcerers. However the world had changed for the better, you both knew that, so maybe, just maybe, his ending that intertwined with yours, and continues intertwining, could change too. However all you could do was dream in the meantime.

Nightmares became less common after that night.

*Credits to the amazing manga of JJK, also GOJO PLEASE COMEBACK ALIVE* *I hope you enjoyed! Mind you I’m not into JJK as a whole so I don’t understand the lore, please correct me if I do get things wrong!Also IM ALMOST DONE WITH SCHOOL AND FINALS AAAAA*

bunny kisses 🐇 & pancake mornings 🥞 with fushiguro fam 🤍✨

the soft glow of early morning light spilled into the bedroom. mamaguro was still half-asleep, curled under the blanket, when she felt a tiny hand patting her face.

“mama,” came the little voice, insistent but garbled with sleep.

she cracked open one eye to see baby megumi sitting up beside her, his black hair sticking up in every direction like a little bird's nest. he had one of his plushies clutched in his arms—a floppy-eared bunny she’d sewn for him—and his big blue-green eyes blinked at her expectantly.

“good morning, sweetheart,” mamaguro murmured, brushing her fingers through his messy hair.

toji, sprawled out on the other side of the bed, let out a loud snore, earning a giggle from megumi. the little boy turned toward his dad, crawling clumsily over to him.

“papa!” megumi declared, plopping down on toji’s chest.

toji groaned, one eye cracking open to see his son grinning down at him. “gumi, buddy, it’s too early for this,” he muttered, his voice rough with sleep.

but megumi wasn’t deterred. he leaned down, pressing his tiny hands to toji’s cheeks, smooshing them together as he giggled. “wake up, papa!”

mamaguro laughed softly from her side of the bed. “looks like someone’s decided it’s time to start the day.”

toji let out a dramatic sigh, pulling megumi into his arms and rolling onto his back, the little boy squealing in delight. “you’re lucky you’re cute, kid,” toji said, smirking as he tickled megumi’s sides, earning more giggles.

megumi squirmed, holding his bunny tight as he buried his face in toji’s chest. “papa, nooo!”

“papa, yes,” toji teased, tickling him one last time before letting him go.

mamaguro propped herself up on one elbow, watching the two of them with a soft smile. “you two are a handful, you know that?”

toji glanced over at her, grinning. “you love it.”

“maybe,” she admitted, reaching out to scoop megumi into her arms. she kissed his chubby cheek, making him giggle again.

“mama,” megumi said softly, leaning his head against her shoulder, his little hand clutching her shirt.

toji sat up, ruffling megumi’s hair. “all right, let’s get breakfast going. pancakes, little guy?”

megumi’s eyes lit up, and he clapped his hands. “’cakes!”

“you spoil him,” mamaguro said with a mock sigh, standing up with megumi in her arms.

toji smirked, throwing an arm around her shoulders as they headed to the kitchen. “yeah, but he’s worth it.”

the kitchen was a cozy mess of warm light and the faint smell of coffee. mamaguro settled into a chair with baby megumi on her lap, his bunny still firmly in his grasp. he babbled happily, occasionally pointing at random things on the table.

toji stood at the stove, wearing an apron mamaguro had insisted he buy months ago. it was black with the words "grill master" printed on it—a little over the top for pancakes, but he wore it anyway.

“watch and learn, gumi,” toji said, flipping a pancake with a little too much flair.

megumi clapped his tiny hands together, clearly impressed by his dad’s “technique.” mamaguro hid a smile behind her hand.

“you know,” she teased, “the goal is to keep the pancake in the pan, not send it flying across the room.”

toji glanced back, a cocky smirk tugging at his lips. “have some faith, woman. i’ve got this.”

just as he said it, the next pancake flipped… and landed half out of the pan. toji froze, his hand hovering in midair as mamaguro burst into laughter.

“got this, huh?” she said between giggles.

toji sighed dramatically, scraping the half-flipped pancake back into the pan. “you’re setting me up for failure here. the kid’s watching; he’s gonna think i’m an amateur.”

megumi, oblivious to his dad’s plight, was more interested in chewing on his bunny’s ear.

“i think he’s more concerned about breakfast arriving soon,” mamaguro said, gently bouncing megumi on her knee.

“all right, all right,” toji grumbled, focusing on the pan again. after a few more successful flips, he finally had a respectable stack of pancakes. he plated them with a flourish, adding a dollop of butter and a drizzle of syrup.

“voilà,” he said, setting the plate down in front of mamaguro and megumi. “breakfast, courtesy of chef toji.”

megumi reached for the plate immediately, babbling excitedly. mamaguro grabbed his little hands just in time. “hold on, sweetheart. it’s hot.”

toji sat down across from them, watching as mamaguro carefully cut up a pancake into tiny pieces for megumi.

“you spoil him,” toji said with a smirk, mimicking her earlier words.

“he’s worth it,” mamaguro replied, a playful glint in her eyes as she handed megumi a tiny fork.

megumi managed to stab a piece of pancake and shove it into his mouth, syrup smearing across his cheek. he looked up at toji with wide, delighted eyes.

“good?” toji asked, leaning forward.

“good!” megumi replied around a mouthful of pancake.

toji grinned, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “that’s my boy.”

mamaguro watched them with a warm smile, her heart full as her two favorite people shared a quiet, simple moment together.

after breakfast, the kitchen was a sticky war zone of syrup smears and a plate with half-eaten pancake bits strewn about. megumi, with syrup on his cheeks, hands, and somehow even his hair, sat in mamaguro’s lap, blissfully unaware of the chaos he’d caused.

“you know,” mamaguro started, dabbing at megumi’s face with a damp cloth, “if you’re going to call yourself a chef, maybe you could also learn to clean like one.”

toji leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. “hey, my job was pancakes. cleaning’s extra.”

she gave him a mock glare, her lips twitching upward in a smile. “extra, huh? should we count how many pancakes landed halfway out of the pan?”

toji grinned, standing and stretching. “fine, fine. i’ll handle it.” he grabbed a towel and started wiping down the counters, glancing over at them as he worked.

“you know,” he said, smirking, “gumi’s already showing promise. he liked my cooking more than yours.”

“oh, really?” mamaguro said, raising an eyebrow.

toji pointed toward megumi, who was chewing on his bunny’s ear. “look at that face. that’s the face of a satisfied customer.”

megumi chose that moment to let out a small hiccup, which was immediately followed by a bubbly giggle.

“case closed,” toji declared, tossing the towel onto the counter.

“you’re ridiculous,” mamaguro said with a laugh, standing up with megumi in her arms. she kissed the top of megumi’s head, sticky hair and all, then turned to toji. “your satisfied customer needs a bath.”

“hey, it’s only fair if i made breakfast, you take bath duty,” toji teased, leaning against the counter.

mamaguro rolled her eyes. “it’s bath duty, not a death sentence.”

but toji was already moving toward her, taking megumi from her arms. “nah, i’ll handle it. gumi and i have a system, right, kid?”

megumi stared up at him, blinking slowly before reaching for toji’s nose.

“see?” toji said with a grin. “teamwork.”

the bathroom was soon filled with the sound of splashing water and megumi’s giggles. mamaguro lingered in the doorway, leaning against the frame as she watched them.

toji knelt by the tub, rolling up his sleeves as he carefully poured water over megumi’s head. the little boy squealed, splashing water everywhere, including directly onto toji’s face.

“gumi,” toji said, wiping his face with a hand, “you trying to drown me here?”

megumi just laughed, kicking his legs in the water.

“he’s a menace,” mamaguro said, her voice filled with affection.

toji glanced back at her, water dripping from his chin. “he gets it from you.”

“sure he does,” she said, crossing her arms.

toji turned back to megumi, who was now busy chewing on the edge of a rubber duck. “all right, buddy, let’s finish this up before your mama decides to frame me for war crimes.”

megumi just babbled in response, completely at ease in his dad’s hands.

after the bath, megumi was wrapped in a fluffy towel, his hair sticking up in soft tufts. mamaguro took him from toji and began drying him off, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks as he squirmed in her arms.

“you’re all clean now, aren’t you, sweetheart?” she cooed.

toji watched them, leaning against the doorway with a towel slung over his shoulder. “you know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “we’ve got a pretty good thing here.”

mamaguro looked up, meeting his eyes. there was a softness there, a rare vulnerability that made her chest ache.

“yeah,” she said, smiling at him. “we do.”

toji stepped closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “thanks for putting up with me,” he murmured.

“always,” she said softly, resting her head against his shoulder as megumi yawned in her arms.

it was these small, quiet moments that she held onto—messy, chaotic, and utterly perfect in their own way.

《 Angel Eyes 》

☆ You'll think you're in paradise, and one day, you'll find out he wears a disguise.

Prompt : The JJK men did not tell you who they truly were 🫢

Note : Had this thought in my head, and I needed to make it into my debut fic. If this goes well, I may do a pt. 2 featuring suguru and toji 🫣 Hope you enjoy !

Featuring : S. GOJO, K. NANAMI, AND C. KAMO

《 SATORU GOJO 》

《 KENTO NANAMI 》

《 CHOSO KAMO 》

Note : I'm currently also looking for moots btw. If you wanna be moots, kindly say so! 😚

After care with Gojo𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖₊⊹

Satoru drags his lips lazily onto your jawline his big strong hands still keeping your wrist pinned above your head. "you did so good for me.." he whispers, into your ear. His lips staring to lazily kiss the side of your neck. His cock still being inside of you as the mixture of both of your orgsams mixed together leaking out of you. Your legs still being pressed up against your chest.

He continues his lazy kisses, his lips meeting yours in a soft peck. He leans up pulling your arms down back to your side gently, knowing they're probably numb and sore. He removes his hands from your wrist, before pulling out of you watching your mixture of bliss spill out of you. Making his dick twitch at the sight. But he knows far too well that if you went another round you'd probably pass out on him.

His hand gently comes up to your cheek gently tapping it, making your eyes peer up at him lazily getting out of your trance. He softly smiles down at you slowly putting your legs down your feet meeting the soft sheets, your legs shaking still as your feet hit the soft sheets. Whining brining your arm up to cover your face.

Satoru softly chuckles as he gently caresses your knee with the back side of his hand "c'mon pretty girl lets get you cleaned up," he says his voice comforting. As he scoops you up bridal style carrying you to the bathroom to clean the both of you up.

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆⊹ ࣪ ˖₊⊹

-- A/N - this has been sitting in my drafts for a bit !! sorry for any spelling errors :3

You and him were sitting on his bed watching some stupid movie he put on for background noise, you sit up turning on your side looking at him. He turns his head to the side to look at you his face looking bored.

"..." "..." "do you wanna kiss?" you blurted looking at him, "yeah." he says, before pulling you into his lap. His large hand coming behind your head tangling his fingers into your hair pushing your head down, as he crashes his lips onto yours his hand pulling your head to the side by your hair to deepen the kiss.

--------

JJK -> GOJO <3 Choso <3 Geto <3 YUJI !!

HQ -> Atsumu <3 Kenma <3 Suna <3 Tendō <3 Hinata <3 Iwaizumi !!

----A/N - quick Drabble :3

husband! satoru who helps you get ready for date night instead of just waiting around or rushing you.

husband! satoru who learnt how to do your hair exactly how you liked, taking care not to pull on it too hard and delicately running his sleek fingers through each strand to place them perfectly.

husband! satoru who couldn't help but admire the way you put on the little lines and colours on your face that you insist makes you more prettier. he thinks you look mesmerising with or without.

husband! satoru who pulls you onto his lap to help you with the remaining touches while telling you how perfect you are over and over and over, until you believe it and then once more.

husband! satoru who has no problem with whichever dress you choose, no matter how revealing because he can fight and will win.

husband! satoru who helps zip up your attire but not without running his hands sensually on your back while whispering sweet nothings and 'i love you's into your ear.

husband! satoru who takes you to see the wonders of the world while he stares in awe at the wonder in his world — you.

gojo satoru would be such a pouty, jealous, and petty husband, especially when the two of you have a child.

what do you mean he has to watch you effortlessly lift your giggling baby girl into the air with your arms reaching out, and listen to her delighted squeals as you catch her and tickle her tiny belly? why haven't you ever done that to him? he's sulking, arms folded over his chest and eyes narrowed as if he does not realize the absurdity of his complaint; who's going to be able to lift up a huge man at the ridiculous height of six foot three?

what do you mean he has to watch you both come home from the mall, a shopping bag in your hand as you reveal a matching set of pajamas? his jaw drops, eyes widening in disbelief as you and your daughter emerge from the bedroom adorned in identical hello kitty pajamas, faces covered in masks and cucumber slices perched on your eyes. he slumps further into the couch as you two pose for selfies, looking absolutely adorable together. truth is, he loved hello kitty as much as his child did, he just . . . might have never had the courage to voice it out!

what do you mean he had to return home after a tedious fight, only to find you and your daughter cutely nestled on the couch, watching a movie together while cuddling?! he also wanted to watch boss baby :(

you quietly open the door to your shared bedroom and tiptoe inside, hoping not to wake satoru. to your surprise, you notice he was still awake, lying on the bed with his arms defiantly crossed over the blanket. his lips are jutted out in a pout, blue eyes narrowed as they glare at you.

“well? are you going to read me my bedtime story?”

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

Your reaction to Jjk men asking you to move in with them: part 1

incl: gojo, geto, nanami

note: mentions of stalking, obsession, harassment, & etc

part 2