#satoru gojo
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madamechrissy · 2 days ago
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Baby You're a Star
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Art in the banner by Kerravi on x!
Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream of the boy you like. Just how will that go for you both!?
Warnings- emotional, lots of feelings, regrets, mentions of depression (reader) mentions of each other's past, MUCH fluffier than the last one, slow burn is still being a slow burn, character development (we love to see it) and some kissing/making out, sexual tension WC this chap- 10k
A/N- Taglist closed- please comment/rb if you enjoy <3
<<<Chapter Five - Masterlist- Playlist- Chapter Seven>>> (coming soon)
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Chapter Six
“I need a change of career.” He says again, and his manager sighs, shaking their head, as one of the directors comes up.
“Modeling, I have an agency.” He hands Satoru a card, and Satoru’s manager covers his face for a moment.
“Like nude modeling?” Satoru asks.
“Sure, or any kind, look at your bone structure? You’d make good money.” Satoru holds the card, flipping it around.
He was always a pornstar, for his adult life.
Can he do more than that?
He has more than enough money to damn near retire.
But how the fuck could he get you to forgive him for what he did, how could he ever get you back? Now that he realizes there is no one in the world for him but the girl he’s wronged. The one who doesn’t even realize how much he cares, because he’s not even said it, never articulated it. The girl who now wants nothing to do with him, how does he just let that go?
“Some people get burnt out,” Satoru’s manager mumbles, putting a hand on Satoru’s shoulder then. “Modeling huh, I’ll get some contacts together, and we’ll see about some different shoots for you.”
Satoru exhales in relief, what once felt like a perfect career truly felt like a fucking prison now. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah, put on some fucking clothes.” Satoru smiles a bit, heading to the dressing room, looking at your name, your picture.
The sweet one with your big glasses, with your little peace sign, a sweet innocent thing he fell for, that he selfishly let be corrupted by his own needs and desires. And now he can’t help but have his own regrets, remembering you that night, the anger on your face, the way you kissed him anyway, the way you bit his lip so angry, dressed so fucking slutty that night.
He’d changed you, possibly forever, and you changed him, in ways you didn’t even fucking know. How the fuck can he just let you go?
*****
Six months since you said goodbye to Satoru Gojo
Being without Satoru made you realize how empty you were before him, god how much you miss him - how horrible you feel for sending away the man you love. How stupid you feel, there are so many times you look at his number, you changed his name to just Satoru now. Once, you got drunk and texted him, panicking when you realized that you had.
I am sorry.
That was the text, not some nude or something madly embarrassing, it was a simple apology. He’d written back to you the next day.
Don’t apologize.
That alone broke you down further, there was so much beauty in Satoru Gojo, so much sweetness there that you miss so desperately. How can you not miss him, the images spilling through your mind of Satoru behind you in that mirror - both times he had been. One at that club under heady lights, pleasuring you and whispering desperate in your ear- the other him being tender, sweet, caring.
That was the duality of him - the moments he broke down, and you saw so much more you wanted to know. Peel the layers back of who he was- ultimately, you didn’t know him any more than he knew you. It’s a reason you’re beating yourself up internally, wondering if you put too much on him.
But the love confessions that spilled from your lips?
You meant every word.
It didn’t matter that you didn’t know him completely yet, it was everything you felt from the moment he caught your eyes at the party. It was everything about him, how your lips felt against his, how you felt when he looked at you with those eyes - so beautiful, special, loved by his actions. Did the words matter so much?
They did matter to you, or you wouldn’t have pulled back. The days go by, the weeks go on, the months pass - it’s fall in LA now, it’s lovely and in the seventies, you’re just stuck inside today. Many, many days you do this, wallow in front of your couch, watch the same movies on repeat, over and over, falling asleep and dreaming of him, only to wake up from it and realize it’s gone.
The fact that you did this to yourself hurts more, that you pushed him away to find yourself, but are you finding yourself? You changed in ways you can’t go back to, you changed for him but also because of him, you’re just not the same girl. As you watch Casablanca for the millionth time, and Humprhey Bogart tilts up Ingrid Bergman’s chin, you’re in a mess of tears like you’ve never seen it.
You’ll always love him, won’t you?
You ended up cutting back graphic design hours, and soon you were dabbling more in photography. Though you had done a couple shoots with Jenna, you wanted to dabble in much more. Through some pretty good connections with the company you ended up quickly making a name for yourself, the money was good and you were diving into something full on.
The distraction was so needed for everything in your life, you know that you need to focus on something and maybe the pain will lessen from losing Satoru. You always wonder if he’s okay, if he’s doing well, you can’t help but ask yourself at times. Jenna ended up telling you he called that night, and for a while you were upset she didn’t let you talk to him.
But you think you understand, she just cares a lot. But to see you like this, still after months - shit, half a year - she mentions it again.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” you said last night. “I just… can’t.”
“I did hear he left the industry, shut down his OF,” she murmurs, eyeing the mess you are on the couch and frowning, she’s asked to clean for you numerous times, but you always refuse.
Your house is spotless, but your couch is where it’s real, the pain, the hopelessness you feel.
“I wonder if I was too harsh.” She says, her words surprising you then.
“Maybe you were, but it’s for the best I suppose.” You cuddle a plushie, resting your chin on it and sighing. “Even without the profession, I don’t know if he returned my feelings.”
So that was where the two of you left it. Even if Jenna should have let you talk to him and didn’t hide it, nothing had changed from that fact. Nothing changed when you told him you loved him, and all he said in return was that he wanted you. The feelings couldn’t align themselves.
The past six months were a blur, parts where you’re enthusiastic and so energetic, and many parts where you’re devastated and lethargic. The pain of not having him rips your soul apart, everything feels wrong about not being in his arms, you second guess yourself constantly.
Should you have kept it all going, should you have just let it be physical and held back your feelings? You could have been some OF power couple, in his arms and earning his praise - being his star. Sometimes you wonder if you were more okay with filming than you thought, and it scared you - but another part knows that just isn’t who you are.
You don’t touch yourself and think of him, you just don’t touch yourself at all, there’s nothing to be turned on about anymore. It’s like it was before you met him, except even little books and smut stories do nothing for you. All you picture is him in everything you read, to the point you find no joy in it, another thing about you fading in the haze of depression.
You know you’ve taken it too seriously, the feelings, the moments, the nights in his arms. You’ve let it consume you, and though you maybe ‘know yourself’ better from this, it doesn’t make it any happier, any easier. Every night you think of calling him, of just talking to him, but there could never be ‘just friends’ with him. You’re too deep in your feelings.
You want him in your life, so badly and tangibly, and it can’t just be fleeting - if it were, why is it still here, half a year later? Why does he dance through your fucking mind on repeat, living in your brain rent free, his big grin and just how sweet he was when you two were together. The way his hand caressed your cheek, you can still feel it there when you touch it.
When you look at the mirror you just look tired, the sparkle isn’t in your eyes, the color isn’t there, you brush on a little blush and add some mascara before a really big shoot, to look human. You practice a smile, you are truly excited, it’s a big opportunity for a huge magazine, and the first truly big one for you. You just have to shove down the gnawing feeling that’s always there.
Did you really make the right decision letting him go? Couldn’t you have tried to hear him out, to give him the chance?
The thoughts race as you head to the shoot, but when don’t they? When don’t you second guess your actions, wishing you’d been more upfront to begin with. Maybe Satoru didn’t know you fell in love, or maybe he didn’t believe it, maybe that wasn’t something he was ready for. You shove the thoughts back as you meet everyone, and that’s when you see him.
A head taller than everyone, the pretty face of the man you fell for, he’s wearing some insanely expensive suit opened up at the chest, buttoned down enough to show his bare chest, chiseled and cut as you remember. He isn’t smiling brightly, but he has a little tight curve to those plump lips, as he runs a hand through locks that look just a little lavender under the lights.
Your heart stops in your chest as the director calls you over, and his eyes catch yours, just like that night. His lips part just so, hands tensing at his sides, blinking snowy lashes so quickly like you’re an illusion. Your pulse races in your ears, you expected to hurt when you saw him again, you imagined you’d pass him by in a street one day perhaps.
But you didn’t expect the tenderness, the way you just want to hold his hand in yours is so vivid you barely bite back your emotions. You plaster on that smile, as you introduce yourself, and the girl with him is so sweet as she shakes your hand. The director explains the vision to you, as the people help decorate the set, and you’re finally there with Satoru.
He just stands there, staring at you so intensely, you feel it like a touch, you look down nervously, fiddling with your hands in front of yourself, as he drinks in the sight in front of him. “Still biting that lip,” he murmurs softly, you gasp a bit at it, eyes locking then. “You’ll have permanent marks there.”
“I think I already do,” your voice feels too good to his ears, it makes him ache as you speak, smiling so nervous, very much the girl he met that night. The different girl who just made everything stop, and you still have that effect on him, you still after all this time make his heart race. “You look amazing.”
“Makeup is weird,” you laugh softly, the sound like a punch to the gut for him. Just that sound alone, he’s missed so vividly, he realizes it then, how much he missed every part of you. It wasn’t just that desire for your body, though that’s there, it was little things like how the lights are hitting your hair, how your smile breaks his heart. “I really wanted to…”
“Me too.” You manage, the both of you don’t say it, not when you’re being pulled in different directions for a moment, but you feel it, everything he doesn’t say.
He missed you too. You can feel it. You can feel him, so close, his scent in your nostrils, the familiar cologne that you miss. He’s talented already, the poses he makes are beyond someone in this for a few months, impressive as he works everything, every angle so well. You can’t help but be so happy for him, to see him like this.
You know he enjoyed porn surely, but you remember the calls and demands stressing him out, it seems he’s a little more natural at this, a little awkward here and there when you’d ask him to touch the model and interact. But he picked up on that as well, you hear that most of his shoots were alone so far, so this was a huge one for him too.
To get a cover of this magazine was something anyone would covet, you can’t help but feel proud of him, smiling as you snap photos. Not a fake smile, a real one, for the first time in so long, knowing he was okay, knowing how badly you needed the reassurance that he was. Your heart aches deeper, ever deeper while you watch him look at your camera, smiling just so.
He’s heartbreakingly beautiful behind your lens.
Satoru struggles to focus on what you say, on anything, when you’re in there with him, when all he can think of is how badly he wants to hold you in his arms again. Things just were different now, like a piece of him was missing constantly, for a moment the void is full by just seeing you. He always wondered if you were good, if you were doing better, not getting hurt by him anymore.
Then he thought other things, of wildly showing up to your house, of begging you on his knees to take him back. Of asking you out truly and not whatever foolish shit he said to you. ‘A friend’ you were never just that, not from the moment he blew that smoke into your mouth and you trusted him so implicitly. The moment you left him was still the hardest blow he’s had.
A couple weeks hurt him more than the years with his only other girlfriend, and you two weren’t even ‘together’. But it hurt more than anything he could even try to explain, the thoughts racing constantly. Could he have said more, given you more, the longing is so tangible it takes his breath, while you work on posing them again, and take some shots from different angles.
“Tilt her chin up just a bit,” you murmur softly, as Satoru’s bright, swirling blue eyes look right at you, rather than the pretty model in front of him, and it’s like you can feel his touch, as if it’s your chin he’s gripping. “Look at her lips.”
You give a gentle direction, clearly pointing out the obvious, that Satoru can’t get his eyes off the girl he hasn’t seen in months, the one he dreams of every night. How can he see anyone else in the room? With a giant, fancy black canon camera, you bend down, snapping a picture, he stares in his peripherals as you do, then you’re on your knees, getting another angle.
He has wondered how you were, god he didn’t want to ruin your life any further, but being this close to you makes him ache, in so many ways. How your hair falls over your shoulder, how you angle your head to study them, now walking up and smiling, turning the model so she faces away from him. You brush her hair forward over a shoulder, taking Satoru’s hand then.
That’s when he feels it, like a shock rushing through him as you pause for a moment, giving him a sweet, sad little smile. “Touch her waist,” you put his hand there, and take her hand now, turning her. “And you look at him like this… perfect.”
You walk back to take another few photos, and you thought maybe after so long it wouldn’t hurt, but it does, like a fresh wound opening. You’re so proud of him for being at this quality of a shoot, but you can’t help but wish you were the one in his arms, even now. There’s not one night in the past months that he hasn’t haunted one of your thoughts - all of the what-ifs.
The shoot wraps up and everyone chit chats for a bit, you’re packing your camera up in your bag when he steps up to you, that black dress shirt half tucked in and unbuttoned, showing too much of a perfectly sculpted body made for modeling. You feel your cheeks heat up as you trail your eyes up and catch his boring into you the way that only he can.
“You’re a photographer now?” He asks softly, his tone is just so different from last time, from the cocky and conceited man, the smirk on his face replaced with parted lips, eyes studying you so intensely. You nod a bit. “That’s so badass, look at you.”
“Look at me, you’re modeling now.” You say softly, smiling up at him as his hand goes to touch your cheek, but pauses, knowing it’s not his place to do so.
Were you with anyone? Did someone treat you like you deserved?
Even if you were, god he just missed you, the presence, the lingering sweet scent in the air - those cupcakes you always smelled like, intoxicating. To imagine caressing your cheek he sees tint with color, to hear your little laugh again, rather than the tears he left you in. He clears his throat, letting his hand fall, flexing his fingers open as he sighs.
“I am… I don’t do… I changed careers.” He manages to say softly, you blink a bit in surprise at that.
“You don’t do um,” you trail off, clearing your throat. “You don’t shoot at all?” You’d heard rumors from Jenna that he quit, but she wasn’t sure if it was true. You hate the relief you feel when you shouldn’t. He shakes his head now, bringing you back. “Do you miss it?”
“No, it wasn’t for me anymore.” His voice gets husky, stepping just a bit closer as the workers take apart the set, but everything fades but him.
It’s always like this, the never ending need for him.
You feel like half your heart is standing right in front of you.
“Do you enjoy modeling, Satoru?” To hear his name from your lips makes his heart race, he nods quickly. “Then I’m very happy for you. I wondered how you were,” you blink back tears, and he catches sight of them glimmering under the set lights. “I think of you often.”
The words are there, you are afraid of them, but also you’re so tired of holding it all in. He steps even closer, making you swallow nervously, leaning down a bit, a hand now brushing your hair back from your face. The contact alone of his fingers brushing through your strands makes your heart hammer in your chest, eyes locking with his.
“I think of you every damn day,” his hoarse voice is so genuine, you’re so afraid to trust it, to believe it, but you feel it, something has changed in him. “I would love to just know how your life is going. If you’d just please, have coffee with me? Or just anything in the world you want.”
“Satoru,” he caresses your cheek now, uncaring of the eyes around you both, the little murmurs, his eyes are locked all on you, as he brushes aside a tear you didn’t realize slipped. “You really just want to know me?”
“I do, I want to know you, even if we catch up and you never talk to me again, maybe it’s what I deserve.”
“You don’t-”
“I do not deserve any time. But please,” his own eyes shut, as he feels you trembling as his hand slips down your arm, over bare skin. “I want to know you’re good, that you’re okay, just anything you want to share with me.”
You turn away for a moment, and he curses under his breath, afraid of your answer, but you’re swiping tears, trying to compose yourself. You feel so much in that moment, in how deeply you still love him, that you just have to take a moment, before turning back around, eyes glimmering as you catch him, staring down at his feet, nervous like you.
“I’d love to catch up, I’d love to know how your life is,” you almost break down, blinking tears as his eyes meet yours again. “How about now?”
“Now!? Shit, yes. Now.” You giggle a bit, as he smiles, so boyish and charming, splitting your heart into a million pieces as he takes your hand, pausing. “Is that okay if I…”
“Yes,” you nod, and he tugs you along, you hear whispers of the models around, who surely all had crushes on him, but Satoru’s attention is undividedly on you. as your heart races in your chest. Your fingers intertwined as he brings you to his car now. “Satoru you drive?”
“I do.” He smiles a bit, brushing his fingers across the sleek Mercedes. “She’s my baby.”
“Is she now?” He grins and nods, opening the door. “I thought you had no license, honestly.”
“I’m wounded! No, I just don't usually drive, this car is special. Here,” he latches your seat belt in, your breath catches, he's so close you feel flustered by him. He comes to sit and smiles at you. “Where too, my lady?”
“Your lady hmm,” you're teasing but the words melt you. There's so much unsaid between you both that you don't think coffee is going to cover it, but you're willing to try it as a first step. “The one by my place? I stress baked cupcakes I can give you when you drop me off.”
“How many this time?” He chuckles as he turns, backing up. It's crazy to even see Satoru holding a steering wheel, it's far too attractive. 
“Like only three dozen. And I have brownies.”
“Pot brownies?”
“No!” You both laugh again, it's so fucking natural, it's so easy to be with him like this. Like the night you met him.
It gets a little quiet then, as you sit in the traffic, and he puts on his music from his phone. It's a quiet song, filling the new silence as the two of you sit there, scared to say the wrong thing.
You take a breath. Looking at him, the sun bright through the car window, illuminating his skin. He peers right back at you, hands gripping the wheel tightly, exhaling. You barely blink back more emotions, reaching a hand out then, resting it on one of his.
“Shit, I missed that.” He whispers softly, taking your hand gently and kissing it. Your heart breaks further, until the pain is so deep you can't breathe.
“I'm so sorry I pushed you away, I didn't give you a chance to explain things.” Your words are broken and hoarse, Satoru shakes his head, back focused on the road as he holds onto your hand tightly.
“I'm sorry that I pushed you into something that you never wanted.”
“You didn't push me…”
“I offered it, and I knew you weren't that girl. I knew it, but I was selfish,” he looks back at you, sadness in his blue depths. “I wanted to have it all, my career, you, keep everything in my life the same. Just better. It was selfish.”
“I was selfish, I did it to make sure you wouldn't be with anyone else.” Saying it out loud hurts, but you feel the weight come off your chest, as Satoru blinks tears, falling across his cheek and glimmering in the sun.
“You just wanted to please me, I don't think that's wrong. It was wrong of me to let you.”
“Don't bear all of the blame,” you lean close and kiss away his tears, the two of you stuck in more traffic now. His car parks, as he brushes his fingers across your face. “I should have told you how much it all meant, it was never just sex for me. I wasn't honest with you.”
He nods just a bit, but you see it, the regret on his face. “I wasn't honest with you about anything I felt either. I want to tell you so much, but it's too late.”
“It's not too late.” He sighs, the traffic moves as you sit back in your seat. Clutched tightly, your little hand in his huge one, protective and sweet, you've never missed something so badly.
“You're not with someone?”
“Satoru I work, come home and wallow on my couch. I'm not dating,” he visibly exhales. “And you're not…”
“No one.” His words are quiet, your heart pounds so loudly in your ears as he eyes you again, blue storms swirling with so much. “If this coffee goes okay, can I have a date? A real date?”
You can’t help but get flustered, visible to him the way you nibble on your thumb and shift in your seat, eyes lowering. “A date?”
“A real one. Flowers or some corny shit, fuck I'll get a corsage.”
“Satoru!” You're giggling, he sighs then at how good that sound hits his ears. “It’s not prom, silly.”
“God I love your laugh,” you pause, looking at him then. “Never told you that. The sound does something. It's contagious.”
“I love your smile,” his lip trembles at your teary declaration. “I missed it so badly, I hate that I made you lose it.”
“I hate that I made you cry, I hate that I said that shit.” You shake your head then, biting down on your lip once more, at a red light. It casts a soft glow on Satoru's face, as he tugs it from your teeth. “I didn't mean it.”
“I know you didn't, I should have accepted the apology. I felt so… lost though?” He manages a little nod, as he drives again, and you two just listen to the music in the car until he's right at that coffee shop.
“I went there because I just wanted to see you, it wasn't just sex for me.” He unseatbelts you with a quiet click, a hand pressing on your bare thigh as he looks into your eyes. His minty sweet breath caresses your face. “It was never just sex and that scared the fuck out of me. I wanted to explain it away as simply amazing sex.”
“It was more for you too?” He nods now, cupping your face in his hands, resting his forehead on yours as you two take each other in.
“So much more. I have a lot to tell you about me, it's not all gonna happen today. But I want you to know. And I want to know you, your life, things I didn't even care to find out then. If you will let me.”
“I will, Toru.” The nickname ends his control, he kisses you, just a sweet pop of his lips for a moment, and you melt in his embrace, he pulls back and his thumbs brush over your heated cheeks.
“Sorry, should I not do that? Can I not do that?” His concern is written all over his face then, while the blue eyes assess you gently.
“You can do that,” you press a kiss to his palm, thumb brushing along his inner wrist now. “Is this a date too?”
“Fuck, anything is a date if you want it.” You laugh a bit.
“A date with the Satoru Gojo?”
“Only with you,” you both step into the cozy ambiance of the Cafe, bustling as always. The aroma of coffee beans and sweets fills both of your noses. “Go grab a table, I'll get us two cups.”
You're so pretty sitting there, chin on your hand resting just so, smiling and watching him when he's walking back. And all he can think is how precious and right you feel, as he sits next to you in the booth, and you two sip on the sweet foam of the mocha hitting your lips. He has just a bit of foam on them you tentatively swipe off, the touch almost doing him in.
Just that motion is damn near too much for him, your fingers on his lips as you smile, so nervous, bringing back that night. Did he fall in love with you then? Was something like that even possible? He can’t explain it any other way, from the moment he saw you and how you filled his mind, changed him forever. Your hand falls as he contemplates you carefully, scared it’s some dream.
“You remember my favorite?” He nods, not realizing just that speaks volumes.
You love him.
You're always going to love him.
You ache to say it, but you want that to be the right moment. The hurt is so raw and new, and you two both feel that tension, the way that you both feel terrible for how it all went, the way you missed each other. You sit next to him, a hand comfortably resting on your thigh, it feels so right, the touch. You’re so starved from the lack of him, the lack of his nearness.
“I want to learn anything you want to share.” You tell him softly, as he massages your thigh with his thumb in little circles.
“So do I. Where's photography fit in? Do you still do design?”
“I still do that, I think I needed a distraction. How did you get into modeling?”
“Really connected agents and being stupidly attractive.” You’re laughing, shaking your head. “Gonna deny it?”
“You’re ridiculous.” He’s grinning so big then, you know how terribly you missed that, tugging at your own lips in return, making you smile with him. “I love how your eyes light up.”
He pauses, heart hammering at your soft words, words you’ve held back, and he feels his own tumble out, when his hand squeezes your thigh gently. “I love how sweet you are.”
You feel it, that barrier falling, the one that’s terrified to open up again, but he’s trying to, you just see it. You take a breath, smiling with trembling lips. “I love how caring you are, how you notice things no one else does.”
Drawn to you even closer, he swallows nervously, Adams apple bobbing while he brushes your hair back. “I miss your scent, I catch a hint of it and look for you.”
“You do?” Your voice is soft, as the moment feels so surreal, you couldn’t even have dreamt this, pictured this. He nods quickly, while your hand rests over his, feeling the veins under your fingertips while you two cozy up in the little coffee shop.
“I do miss it, I miss everything. Not just… you know… that.” He blushes a little, rubbing the back of his neck as you feel your own cheeks heat at the memories.
“Me too. Everything.” It takes everything in Satoru not to kiss you again, not a sweet little press of the lips like earlier - he wants to make sure your mouth is swollen from his kisses. He wants you so badly it’s hard to think, to inhale your scent in his nostrils as he tastes your sweet skin, to just fucking hold you.
A mix of everything at once so overwhelming he is trembling, you notice and look at him, lashes lowering as your hearts both race, and his head leans down, coming to rest on yours. You feel tears pricking your eyes at how badly you craved this, craved his presence, in any form at all. You didn’t know this would be a possibility, the way you two speak now, the way you don’t stop the contact.
That first night you met, you two couldn’t stop talking, and for a shy girl like you it was entirely new, it was so different and special, all to happen again for you both, to be so connected and the ease that your words flow. It’s natural, so right to speak to him, to listen to him, as you both recount what you’ve missed in the months alone, making the longing even deeper.
You’d missed so much.
He’d missed so much.
Eventually taking far, far too long to just drink coffee together, he’s taken you back home. You hesitate a bit before inviting him in, remembering the pain of that moment you asked him to leave, and realizing what he’ll see if he comes in. He feels your hesitation, clearing his throat then, and taking your hand in his.
“I don’t have to come in if you’re not ready,” you shake your head quickly. “It’s understandable.”
“It’s not that at all, it’s…” your couch is a mess, the living room table littered with wine bottles and pizza boxes. You have been in such deep depression that the area alone stays messy, while you stress clean the entire house. How do you show him that side of you, a side you don’t know how to explain?
“You can just go in and bring ‘em out, it’s okay.” He’s smiling again, you sigh then, shaking your head.
“If we’re going to start over, I think you should know parts of me that aren’t the best.” He frowns a bit in confusion as you unlock the door, he remembers every bit of your home of course, but when he looks over to your couch he sees it.
He’s quiet as you shut the door behind him, tense as you know this isn’t how a normal person acts, the devastation you’ve been in, the place you rot away and cry about him. The place you numb yourself, after acting happy all fucking day, you know it’s not normal to be this affected by a couple weeks with someone.
But it was you, and you didn’t want to hide anymore.
“Shit…” He murmurs, you slip your purse on the counter, while he slowly walks up to you, hands on your waist, you feel the emotions you’ve barely held together about to crumble when he tugs you against him, wrapping his arms around you.
“It’s embarrassing, that’s why I hesitated.” You admit softly, letting him hold you right in your kitchen, but it wasn’t like last time - it was not sexual, it’s caring, it’s a tight hold you never want to leave.
“You were hurting that badly, why didn’t you just…” He exhales, kissing your head then. “You could have told me, fuck I’d have been here.”
“I pushed you away, I hurt you too.” Your words are true, he’s been devastated without you, but the physical evidence is glaring in how you took it.
“We hurt each other,” he admits, you nod, looking up at him and sighing, he tilts your ching up now, the feel of him against you filling things that were empty before and in his absence. “There’s so much I want to say, but for now… let me just help clean this up.”
“No, please, I’ll clean it before you come over again.” He’s already shaking his head. “Satoru, that's embarrassing.”
“It’s not. Where’s the cleaning shit?” He’s already tall and lanky in your kitchen, bending over and opening cabinets now. He’s doing anything to avoid the knowledge you hurt like that for so fucking long, the sweet and bubbly girl he met living like that breaks him so deeply he can’t even tap into how much it hurts.
“It was just… a spot I left that way I guess.” You grimace and help him then, grabbing trash bags as you eye the mess you’ve made of the couch.
It’s abundantly clear the spot you sat in for six months every day after work, while he starts throwing out empty boxes and bottles of wine with you. You’re not as embarrassed with him as you thought you’d be, he doesn’t make you feel that way, he just helps you, methodically throwing things out. The wine bottles clink as they hit, he eyes a couple of them and smirks.
“These are so cheap and shitty.”
“Well excuse me!” You’re laughing then, even through your tears, he gives you a sad little smile, continuing to tidy up. You tackle the table you haven’t seen in months with a sponge, he starts folding your several plush blankets all tangled up, frowning a bit.
“You sleep here too?” He asks, you nod a bit. 
“I would just watch movies till I cried myself to sleep.” You take a shaky breath, wiping the table down with a towel as Satoru’s lips open, as if to speak, but he just smiles again.
“I’ll take these out.” He walks the trash out as you go to the kitchen, spotless in comparison to that area, that was the one place you let it all just be chaos, let the hurt sink in.
Now he’s here, and you don’t even know how to act, you hurt him and pushed him away, and he’s here to pick up your pieces. He steps back in, walking over to you as you both look at each other, his hands slipping down your arms gently, you take several breaths, biting your lower lip as he tugs you closer. It’s quiet, all the things you both want to say on the tip of your tongues.
“I’m so sorry you hurt like that,” he finally says, cupping your face, you touch his hand and sniffle a bit, nodding.
“I hurt you too, though, I felt so horrible for it, I think it made everything worse.”
“Don’t,” he shakes his head now. “I didn’t know how to not be sexual, you were right about me.”
“But you-”
“No,” he puts a finger to your lips, sighing now as he feels them under his finger, smoothing that indentation of your teeth and watching your lashes lower. “The club, I just proved you right.”
You flush as you remember that, the wanton way you’d arched for him, how you’d squirted, sucked his fingers. God you were a mess for him so easily, after saying you didn’t want that you fell back into it with ease. If he were to do it now you would, but he keeps his touches chaste, careful, leaning down and tilting your chin up, letting you look into his eyes.
“I originally made it sexual then demanded more-”
“No, you needed more. You told me, and I didn’t give it. I…” he trails off, sighing now. “I never knew how to be affectionate, sex to me was affection. It’s all I knew how to do in that moment, when you needed more.”
“But you didn’t have to give more. That was me.”
“I want more, I still want more.” You can hardly comprehend that those words are coming from his perfect lips, your heart racing now. “There’s a lot I want to say, but I don’t think we should unpack this all today. And I want to see you again.”
“I want to see you again.” Your hand slips up his chest, as he wraps an arm around your waist. “Thank you for today, for everything. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I helped cause that depression, so of course I should help clean it up.” He’s emotional, imagining the girl he fucking loves - yes he loves you - just sobbing on a messy couch. He swallows it down, along with the urge to kiss every part of your body, knowing he just can’t right now.
“I never thought I’d see you again,” the sobs break now, you can’t hold them back when you’re in his arms, face pressed against his chest, body shaking as he tries to stroke your back, your arms. “I felt so horrible making you go.”
“It was the best thing, you deserved more than I gave.”
“Satoru! No…”
“Yes.” He cups your face, swiping your tears as he holds back his own, shaking his head again. “You deserve everything, fuck I was so unsure I could ever give it you you I never thought you’d even fucking feel that way for me.”
“You underestimate how amazing you are,” he nuzzles your palm when you lean up and touch his cheek gently. “You deserve everything.”
“I want you to know, I haven’t… nothing since you.” You blink in surprise, lashes still dripping tears that he presses sweet kisses on, bending at the waist. “I couldn’t be with anyone.”
“Me either, Toru.” He kisses you again, sweet and salty from your tears, as his own eyes get glassy with emotion.
“You promised me brownies and cookies, I earned my keep now.” You laugh then, it’s so freeing, his pretty grin just a little crooked as you step back.
“You did! Of course, come on.” You go to grab them out of the fridge, he hates that even now he’s eyeing your ass like that, he knows he can’t yet, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t desire your body too.
He’ll always desire you, every bit of you, the thoughts eating him at night, the amount of times he’s played with himself to your memory is ridiculous. But he is making sure that takes a back seat, what you need is comfort, clearly, the sadness just shows, like you’re keeping it together just a bit for him. You get a pretty flowery tupperware and start stacking them for him as he is enamored with your every movement.
“You’re so beautiful.” He says softly, you pause, snapping the lid on, all puffy cheeked from crying.
“I probably look like a mess,”
“You’re always beautiful.” He steps closer, kissing your forehead now. “Not just your pretty face or your sexy body,” now his voice drops an octave, fucking your mind, body and heart up as you look at the man you love. “Something about you, it’s in here, that shit sounds corny huh?”
“No, it doesn’t,” he’s touching your chest, feeling your heartbeat under his palm racing and fluttering. You put yours on his, feeling the slow athletic beat he’s always had kicked up just a bit. “You are too, Satoru, much more than your looks.”
Those words hit harder than he knew they would, it’s always been his looks, since he met his ex. Everything was his potential, and even if his personality was something that carried him, it always felt like people wanted him for his looks. His eyes, his body, his lips.
But you never just wanted that, he knows it now.
“Fuck,” he can’t even hold back this one kiss, the one where he’s pinning you against the counter, and you’re whining out, that cute breathy cry that ends him. “I missed you so fucking much.”
“Me too, me too…” your words are muffled with his lips, hungry and desperate on yours, the kiss he’s held for you for months, the one he played over and over in his head. If he ever got a chance, if he ever got to hold you again, he pours it all then, in that moment with you.
“Satoru…” You’re whispering his name as he bends over, taking over your senses, mouth devouring yours, so messy then, his tongue slipping in your mouth, possessing it. You cling to his dress shirt, nails pressing against his back over the fabric as his hands slip down your waist, gripping your hips and tugging you closer.
He whispers your name, a soft whine as he looks at you with those cerulean depths lit up, breaths faster, kissing you over and over, as if he’ll never get enough. You lose yourself, your entire body on fire - nipples pressed against your sweater, tummy clenched with the desire you haven’t felt once before or after him, your pulse racing in your ears.
“God I missed this,” he says then, breaking away to take a breath, you kiss him again, sweet, god you’re sweet. God he loves kissing you, holding you, looking into eyes behind fogged up glasses, so adorable it tugs at him with affection. “You’re so adorable.”
“I need windshield wipers.” He laughs then, a genuine laugh, as you giggle, he tugs your glasses off and kisses you again, hands gripping your face after he sets them on the counter next to the baked goods.
It wasn’t just an exaggeration, it wasn’t him making the thoughts more than they were, the kisses just were like this with you. Life altering movements of plush lips melding to each other, hands warming each other's skin, he can’t get enough - god he wants more, but he holds back, until he can’t anymore, tugging away just a bit and taking a breath, trailing his fingers down your curves slowly.
“I want more, I don’t want you to think it was just your body,” he says then, you nod quickly, understanding, even as your breasts heave up and down with your quick breaths. “God I wanna fucking tear this off you.”
“Mnh…” you bury your face against his chest, feeling his heart beat against your cheek quicker now, as you nod against him. “I want it too, Satoru I… I felt so sexual because I just already had feelings. It was always more for me.” He exhales, pressing another kiss to your heated cheek, blushing against his lips, hot to the touch.
“I knew that, and I still was selfish.” Admitting it sucked, it fucking hurt, but he knows he needs to do more, say more.
“So was I.”
“I don’t think you have a selfish bone in your pretty body.” You laugh softly.
“I do. For you.”
“Selfish for me?” His husky voice drives you insane, you nod when he moans, kissing you again, thigh pressing between yours, when he feels your heat it almost takes him out. “Fuck… maybe you’ll show me how selfish some day.”
“M-maybe I will…”
He chuckles again, pulling back. “You’re too cute.”
“Oh you always said that.” You’re smiling though, he sees it and it tears him up, how beautiful the sight is for his eyes again.
“You are cute, you’re adorable. I love that about you… I… deleted those, so you know, okay?” Your eyes widen in surprise then.
“You did?”
“The moment you said you regretted them, it wasn’t right to keep it up. I want you to know, no one knows it was you, I guess except your friend and me.”
“Of course, I knew you’d never share that information.”
“I shouldn’t have asked you, I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Satoru…”
“No,” he cuts you off softly, you’re back in his arms now, snuggled in his embrace. “I am furious I showed anyone that perfect pussy, y’know that?”
You pause at the declaration, looking up at him. “Really?”
“God yes,” he laughs without humor then. “I hate that others saw you, it was already making me angry, but I was so stuck up my own self.”
“Just know I forgive you, and I don’t blame it all on you.” He nods then, the relief from your words letting his broad shoulders rest just a bit. “Thank you for taking them down, but I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You did regret it.”
“I didn’t regret being with you on video, I um… regretted others seeing it. Me and you? It felt too intimate, too special,” your hands entwine as you speak, his long fingers against your much smaller ones, feeling so warm and good. You shut your eyes as you try to gather your thoughts. “I regretted anyone seeing us together.”
“It was special,” his words bring your gaze back. “It was intimate, and I wish we kept it to us now.”
“You do?”
“God yes, the fact that anyone jerked it to you? Makes me unreasonably fucking mad now,” you bury your face against his chest again, the warmth of his palm seeping into your skin. “All I could think was ‘pussy is mine’.”
You blink in surprise. “You thought that?”
“Did I think that, yes of course I did. I thought a lot I didn’t say,” he sighs now, kissing your forehead again so sweetly as his phone rings. He frowns, and you step back a bit as he checks it. “I’m suddenly free this Saturday, how about you?”
“I’m free!” You say it so quickly he laughs.
“Sweetheart,” the way he says it after so long makes you tremble with need, as he brushes back your hair. “I can’t begin to say how much I missed you.”
“Me too, god so much. Feel like you’re some dream.” He feels the same, god he does, like this isn’t real, when you two kiss again, this time it’s too much, he’s so close to losing his control.
Satoru’s hands are on your hips, while you feel like your home is here, right on his perfect lips. He’s delving his tongue in your mouth feverish and heated now, before he picks you up, thighs on either side of his hips, sitting you on the counter. You’re lost in him, like the sweetest drink or most addicting drug, arms wrapping his neck as his hardness presses.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he murmurs again, you whine and roll your hips, when he litters kisses down the side of your neck. “I miss this so much.”
“I miss it, I miss you. Need you.” He exhales at that, his hands slipping up bare thighs over your knee socks, thumbs pressing the softness of your inner thighs, you’re whining out at it. “I only want you.”
“God me too,” he’s so close to slipping those soaked panties to the side, as he tugs you closer, and you take a breath, trying to get your composure, lips swollen from his kisses. “So beautiful.”
“I feel beautiful with you,” he moans and kisses you again, hands pressing deep, so deep he’ll bruise you as they wrap your thighs, and he groans. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry,” he sighs as he pulls back, looking at you spread for him, picturing sinking to his knees and worshipping you. “You look too good, I need to go.”
“I feel the same. I think I should… bake more.” He laughs again, the sound so bright it melts you, as he helps you down, sliding you across his hard body slowly. “Bake a lot and then take a cold shower.”
“A cold shower sounds good to me too.” He cups your face then, tilting your chin up and brushing his thumb on your lips. “Make no mistake, we need time, but when you’re ready if I ever get another chance at you? I’m gonna fuck you till you can’t walk.”
“Toru mnh…” He’s moaning and kissing you again, it takes everything not to let him, not to beg for it. But you both need to take a breath. It’s too raw, it’s too fresh, and there’s so much. “I want to know so much more about you.”
“I do too. Not just every inch of your body, though that thought is raging,” he’s pouting and you’re giggling again, brightening your pretty eyes. “I wish I’d just listened to you then. But my feelings were hurt.”
“I get it, I really do. So, Saturday huh?”
“Saturday.” He kisses you again, and soon he’s walking to the door, as the memories of the last time he was here hit.
“Fuck,” you hate how they rush in, stealing your breath. He looks at you, frowning as he holds the little tupperware you gave him. “I hated myself for doing it.”
“No, sweets, don’t. Don’t hate yourself, okay?” You’re swiping tears again.
“I’m a mess.”
“Beautiful mess,” his words make you lean up to kiss him again, his free hand wraps you, while the two of you stand in your quiet entry way, just the sounds of your breaths and kisses filling the room. “I want you to be my beautiful mess.”
“I want to be yours.” He sighs, kissing your palm and then your hand, things he never thought he’d do, but he wants to with you.
“I don’t want to fuck this up, I never thought I’d even see you again, not even sure I deserve to kiss you.”
“Let me figure out what you deserve, what I want. Okay?” He nods then, swallowing nervously and taking a breath. “Text me when you get home safe.”
“I will, good night sweets.” The little nicknames nearly do you in again, when you smile and lean on the doorway, he’s waving when he gets in his car, hesitating before he pulls off.
What if he doesn’t see you again?
The panic sets in his heart, he knew he missed you, but he didn’t know the depths of the fear until now, as he sees your hand wave back at him, sees your silhouette in the doorway. He steps out of his car, walking back up as you shut your door, stepping forward when he’s kissing you again.
“One more.” He murmurs, so sweet you’re done for, god it’s all back - it never left - but being in his arms? His presence? His desperate needy kiss?
You’re hugging him over his shoulders, kissing him right back, the sky is all pinks and golds as the sun sets, casting shadows on that silvery hair, bringing out the little streaks of lavender. You’re taking a slow breath, heart feeling like it’s whole for the first time since that day you sent him away, the day you did the thing that hurt you the most, but he’s here.
He’s here.
All of him.
“Sorry,” you shake your head, cupping his face. He’s a couple steps down as you stand on your deck, enough you’re almost face to face with him. “I can’t help it.”
“Don’t say sorry, I love your kisses. I missed them.” He moans and kisses you again, feeling your gravity tugging him so close that it feels wrong to back away. “You could just stay and cuddle? Or just stay. You don’t have to go home if you don’t want to, you know.”
“If I stay no way it’s just fucking cuddling, you’re expecting too much from a former pornstar you know,” You blush then at his insinuation, when he backs away again. “Good night baby.”
“Good night again, Toru.”
He laughs as he goes back to the car, your heart hurts when he drives off, but the weight feels so lifted, the sorrow and self loathing of pushing the man you love away. It was so hard to let that go, to let go his tears when he begged you to keep him around, but now you know it was the right decision, as you pass by a freshly cleaned couch later that evening, eyeing your phone.
You always sit there, but tonight instead, you go to your room, the bed you’ve not gone near in so long. You snuggle up, pulling up a book for the first time in months, and you can almost read it, but you’re so stuck in your thoughts of him, of his kisses and his pretty blue eyes, of the energy of him, his scent left behind. A scent you missed so fucking badly.
Instead of wine and pizza, it’s a water bottle next to your nightstand, when you get it - his text.
Satoru - I got a little busy. I'm sorry, I’m home now. Suguru was having a moment
You - that’s fine! I’m glad you’re home safe
Satoru sighs, looking at the phone as he lays in his bed, picturing you right here in his arms, he’d stroke your hair, he’d press kisses along your skin. He’d hold you here forever if you fucking let him. Even now, there’s so much more he has to say, but he wants to give you the perfect date, one you deserve. He wants to share more of who he is with you.
Today, seeing that side of you made it so much more raw, the pain you must have felt, how hard it was to push him away. He never resented you for it, even though it killed him, deep down he knew why you did it, but instead of trying to fix it, he made it all fucking worse that night.
Satoru - I can’t wait to see you again.
He’d never say that before, he’d have made some sexy joke or some silly comment, not just be vulnerable. And it was terrifying to do it, his heart hammering in his chest as he sits up in his bed. He looks next to him, remembering you right there, remembering fucking you all night, waking up and fucking you again, but he thinks of all the times he could have done more.
Just held you, just kissed you, of course he wanted you - god he’s never wanted anyone like you - but he wishes he did even more. Hold your hand, at that damn dinner said ‘no she’s my girlfriend’ fuck he wanted to. He wishes he could have held you so close to him, let everyone know you’re his. Friend, what a joke, he never was your friend.
He always wanted more and didn’t even know what it was.
You - me too, I’m so excited!
He’s torn between being so happy and smiling, but also feeling that sadness of seeing that couch with you. The pain he saw in your eyes that night at the club, but he was so consumed, he couldn’t realize what was glaringly apparent. Your confessions he was so fucking scared to return.
He can’t wait to say it, that he loves you.
He never thought he’d get a chance.
You- I hope you have sweet dreams Satoru.
He smiles at that sadly - It’s been nothing without you, darkness.
You bite your lip as he types - It’s been nightmares for you.
Satoru- you too, sweetheart.
The two of you can hardly stand it, feeling each other’s kisses lingering on your skin, inhaling the scent of each other in your nostrils. Hugging those pillows tight and picturing each other. But for once, instead of you sobbing and him tossing and turning, the two of you fall asleep, wishing Saturday would come quickly, so you two can start over again, and not fuck it up so badly.
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we will get back to this being sexy next chap aha
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bluebeesknees · 11 months ago
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Public Nuisance Nr.1
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papernstory · 2 days ago
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Happy father's day 😄
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everymangagojo · 3 days ago
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moechies · 3 days ago
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this is 110% you and satoru nii when you tell him it’s weird that he wants to have sex with you :3c will definitely make it a big deal — pout and whine, clawing at your shirt (really secretly palming at your tits) trying to convince you that it’s not — not weird if you don’t let it, and that he’ll never bring it back up again! just let him have it this one time!
but you refuse, and he can only resort to fucking i between your pretty thighs and feel your soft pretty pussy folds hug him tight. he won’t complain much, won’t whine for long because he knows that sooner or later you’ll give in.
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alygator77 · 3 hours ago
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──on the move
a/n. in honor of father's day, i wrote a short drabble for our favorite daddy fictional husband. here's some good 'ol dadjo fluff 🩵 this was a request, but it's also inspired by a scene from the romcom life as we know it.
cw. your daughter's first steps. humor. domestic fluff. dad! satoru. husband! satoru. also, satoru is just too stinkin' cute (isn't he always though?!).
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Neither you nor Satoru were prepared for the day your daughter decided to walk.
She’d been going through another sleep regression—clingy, overtired, and endlessly fussy. The last few nights had been brutal for you both; nonstop crying, sleepless nights—hell, you barely remembered the last time you’d eaten something warm or sat down for more than five minutes without a tiny hand tugging at your shirt.
So today, when she finally settles, babbling to herself instead of wailing, Satoru doesn’t hesitate.
“You go clean up,” he says, already hoisting her up into his arms. “I got this.”
And you don’t argue. Because a hot shower and ten minutes to breathe feels like the most luxurious gift in the world.
Downstairs, Satoru sits leisurely, sinking onto the living room floor, one of your daughter’s stuffed toys shoved behind his back like a makeshift pillow. She sits a few feet in front of him, chewing thoughtfully on a rubber block like she’s solving some ancient puzzle.
As she babbles cheerfully, he nods along, blue eyes soft beneath the fall of snowy hair. One hand props up his chin as he listens intently, like he’s getting a full debriefing from a tiny general.
“I know, right?” he murmurs. “They really said no dessert before dinner. Criminal, honestly.”
An insistent string of nonsense syllables spills from her tiny lips, animated and loud, flapping one hand as to make a point.
“Exactly,” he hums, nodding solemnly. “It’s injustice. You and me—we should unionize.”
Then, without warning, she shifts—pushing herself up with both hands, wobbling slightly as she reaches for the coffee table. One tiny palm finds the edge. Then, slowly… she lets go.
Satoru blinks.
Standing. She’s standing. No hands. No support. Just two steady little feet on the rug.
All by herself.
“…no way,” he breathes, straightening instinctively. “Hey, uh—princess?” clearing his throat, his voice catches slightly. “Uhh… whatcha doin’, huh?”
And then she moves—one step. Wobbly. Uncertain.
Satoru's mouth falls open.
“No, no, no—wait—shit—uhhh… babe?!” his voice pitches as he springs to his feet, torn between staying and bolting for the stairs. “Hold on sweetheart—wait for mommy, wait—!”
Twisting towards the ascending hall, his voice booms.
“Babe! She’s walking!!”
Upstairs, the shower pounds steadily as you scrub shampoo from your hair. A voice echoes up the stairway. With a pause, you tilt your head slightly.
…is Satoru calling you?
“Huh?” you shout back, reaching for the knobs. “What was that ’toru?”
His voice echoes again—louder this time, unmistakable.
“SHE’S WALKING!”
“What?!” heart lurching, you move, fumbling out of the shower, slipping slightly on the mat as you grab for the nearest towel and yank it around your body. “Shit—okay—hang on—!”
But downstairs, equal chaos unfolds.
Your daughter takes another step, and Satoru's still at the bottom of the stairs, caught somewhere between panic and awe. He doesn’t want to move—can’t risk missing it. Can’t let you miss it.
“Okay—just—freeze,” he says, crouching slightly in front of her. “Hold it right there, little lady. Stay. Don’t advance. Mommy’s coming.”
But babbling back in defiance, her little eyes brighten with determination as she takes another wobbly step forward.
“Shit—fuck. Honey, I need you to hurry!” he shouts toward the stairs, voice cracking.
“Coming! I’m coming!” you call back breathlessly, hopping down the hall with one towel clutched around your chest and another half-heartedly blotting your dripping hair. “Just—stall her! I’ll be right there!”’
“Stall her?!” he echoes, eyes wide as she continues toward him, arms extended, smile wide—like he’s the finish line and she’s already won. “How the hell do I stall a baby?!”
Another leg plants itself on the rug, and Satoru scans the room in panic. No bottle. No snacks. No plan. No goddamn time.
“Okay—um, hey—look at me,” he says, dropping to his knees in her path. “Let’s do… let’s do clapping, yeah? You love clapping!”
And there he is, clapping with exaggerated enthusiasm, a desperate smile plastered on his face. But she doesn’t slow down. If anything, she picks up speed—giggling now, like this is all a game.
“Shit. Nonono. You are not following protocol…” he mutters, backing up a step. She’s almost at him. “Please princess… please… wait for mommy.”
He’s at a loss, and so, with nothing else to do, he reaches out—gentle, barely a touch—tapping her belly with two fingertips. But it’s just enough, because with little balance, she blinks—wobbling, plopping her butt onto the floor with a soft thud.
There’s a pause.
Then, in a matter of seconds, her face crumples, lip trembling as a tiny, heartbroken whine spills out of her.
Satoru's eyes widen in horror. “Aw, no—no, no, hey, it was just a loving little stall,” he says quickly, hands out. “A nudge. A tactical nudge. Fuck, don’t cry—”
And you’re bursting into the room just as the first real wail escapes her lips.
“What happened?!” you gasp, chest heaving, towel clinging to your damp skin as you rush over.
Looking up, Satoru's face is wide-eyed, painted with guilt.
“You… you said stall her,” he says helplessly. “So I… I gave her a little push.”
You blink. First at him. Then at her. Then back at him.
She’s hiccupping through a sob, hands balled up against her chest like she’s been personally wronged. Yet somehow, his face is more pitiful than hers.
“She was walking,” he adds weakly, looking down. “I… didn’t want you to miss it.”
Exhaling slowly, the panic bleeds out of you now, replaced by something warm and humorous—the edge of a smile tugging at your lips.
“Oh, ‘toru…”
He peeks up, sheepish. “I panicked.”
“Yeah,” you murmur, stepping closer, “I gathered.”
And sinking to your knees, you gather her into your arms. The second she’s pressed against you, the sobs dissolve into sniffles, cheek nuzzling into your collarbone like nothing ever happened.
“There we go,” you whisper, brushing your hand over her hair. “See? All better. She forgives you.”
“…you sure?” he looks doubtful. “Because she looked at me like I betrayed her entire damn bloodline.”
“Oh, shush.” Huffing a quiet laugh, you roll your eyes playfully, gently lowering her onto the rug in a seating position—pacified, for now.
Stepping closer, Satoru's gaze flicks between you and her.
“Five steps,” he says quietly, sliding his arms around your waist. “She took five real steps.”
“That’s incredible,” you whisper, arms looping around his neck. A slow smirk stretches across your lips. “Next time maybe just… record it, yeah?”
“Tch…” he huffs. “Right…”
And leaning in, his smile meets yours halfway—lips touching where laughter wants to begin. You kiss him, eyes fluttering, a hum rumbling through him.
But then—
pat-pat-pat.
Freezing, you pull away from that unmistakable sound. And turning, you’re left with the sight of your daughter tearing off down the hall with a delighted squeal, her bare feet smacking against the hardwood like she’s been walking her whole damn life.
“Oh.” Satoru's already straightening. “Oh shit.”
“Ohmygod…” you breathe in awe. “’toru… she’s walking!!”
“No,” he says grimly. “She’s running.”
And just like that—it begins.
Yeah. You’re never going to sit down again.
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freaktoru · 3 months ago
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. ۫ ꣑ৎ . satoru gojo is needy and rlly likes to cum inside!!
18+ MDNI
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satoru gojo is one needy, pussy drunk, fuck. he’s quite literally the ceo of not being able to shut the fuck up—especially during sex.
“babyyyyy” he whines into the glistening skin of your neck, prodding your swollen, fucked out pussy with his cock. 
this is the fourth time satoru’s pushing into you tonight, whining and muttering in your ear about how it’s just not enough. for you, one round with satoru is all it takes to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and your breathing to quicken into shallow, shaky gasps. but for him? four times? baby, this is just the start.
“s-satoru—” you gasp at the sweet stretch, feeling him fully slide in his lengthy cock. “fuck baby—s-so tight” he stutters against your skin, placing soft, wet kisses along the stretch of your neck. he’s got you trapped in his favorite position—missionary—legs pushed back, hips locked in place with nowhere to escape.
“ ‘toru please s’ too much, n-no more” you whimper pathetically—nails desperately digging into his back, as he starts moving his hips, pushing himself in n out. 
“hah baby— feel s’good—gonna fuck you s-stupid on my cock” there he goes again, drunkenly slurring his words in your ear, ignoring your stupid pleas while he mercilessly overstimulates you with his cock.
“mmm ‘toru” the moan escapes your parted lips, your shaky breath ghosting over the now red, scratched up skin of his back.
“shh—shhh baby, take it, c’mon, take it for me” he groans, pairing each word with a deep, pleading thrust. and of course you will. how could you be so heartless and deny him like that?
“g-gonna let me cum in you baby?” he whispers against the shell of your ear, his warm breath sending a warm tingle of pleasure down your spine. 
“d-didn’t you already—”
“please baby cmon—fuck you feel s-so fucking good, let me just one m-more time” he cuts you off, mumbling against your skin and fucking you at the most deliciously agonizing pace. 
too fucked out to reply, you close your eyes, giving him a light, approving nod. no matter how much you deny it, in reality, you’d do anything satoru asks.
“mm yeahhh— good girl” he replies, coating your tight wet walls in his cum, ‘just one more time’.
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chosoclub · 4 days ago
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☆ cocky football player gojo who doesn't take a liking to you when he finds out you're his publicist
tags. football as in soccer, sfw, gojo w/ big ego, nb reader!! geto makes a cameo, oh shit almost forgot about angsty gojo kinda (daddy issues question mark), gives head ruffles ✌︎('◡'✌︎ ), ONE affectionate name (doll) wc. 3.7k!
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Gojo Satoru was a publicist’s nightmare. He had recently come under scrutiny for causing his team’s loss due to his hotheaded nature and big ego, earning him a red card for the game and his team, the playoffs. You started at the firm in conjunction with the headlines, and the task was immediately passed onto you akin to hazing from your coworkers who had all reached a point of not wanting to deal with this. 
You stand against one of the bright red seats, observing from the stands while they practice. The white-hot sun laminates the seats with a gleam, waves of heat diffracting off the plastic. You stare across the green field; You couldn’t miss his stark, white hair and his speed compared to the other players. He darted around the field like a dazzling ball of light, you blinked while he was in the corner, and by the next blink he was already in the offensive center ready for a goal.
They had a short break, enough time for the coach to speak to the team and the manager to approach you in the stands. He thanked you for showing up to practice, that it’s been a challenging season for the club. From the corner of your eye, you spot Gojo, tilting his head up to find the source of the conversation. One of his hands shades his eyes and the other stays on his hip, head cocked back looking through the stands until spotting you. For how far down he is, you can still see a scowl begin to contort his face, knowing the reason you’re here is him. 
The break is short, by the time he switches his gaze back down, they’re dismissed for drills. You watch them run from one point of the field to the other as you make your way down the steep steps and onto the grass. Every so often while he strides from end to end, you catch him glowering towards you again, the sun catches in his glacier eyes, the way they narrow until he turns his head again. He makes the drill look easy, almost jumping off the ground each time the hind leg takes off, his arms swing effortlessly by his chest, and he dashes forward akin to a stallion. 
“He’s a damn good player,” you hear one of the coaches tell you as you approach them, away from the blaze of the sun and against the concrete drop-off that elevates the stands from the field. “He knows it too, that he’s irreplaceable.”
“It’s not good for the team to only depend on one player,” you respond, both coaches humming in solemn agreement and the three of you have turned to the field again. “Do you think there’s a chance at redemption to move on to finals?”
“There better be,” he answers. 
Practice is halted by the sharp ring of the whistle. You lean against the cement wall, scribbling on your leaflet, trying to get a grasp of each player. You think over the research you’d done on them all, their strengths, their weaknesses. You don’t notice when they’re walking by you to the locker room. You only notice the way your pen runs down the notepad in a second so fast you’re convinced you began to have a muscle spasm if it wasn’t for the fingers gripping onto the binding rings, pulling the leaflet from your grasp. 
“The fuck are you writing on here, anyway?” Gojo quickly turns the pad towards himself, his eyes skimming the page, his mouth turning to a smirk. “You think I run like a stallion?”
“Give it back,” you reach for it but his reflexes are too quick when he reaches his arm back in perfect parallel.
“Don’t think so, doll. I wanna make sure you’re portraying me in a good light.” The guys continue walking by, some of them chuckling half-heartedly, seemingly feeling bad that you got caught at the brunt end of Gojo’s taunt. He scoffs, quickly having transitioned from a playful mood to being bored of the jest altogether. How childish, you think as he flips the notepad back into your palm. He tips his head forward, close enough that you can see his pupils contract. “This is what they hired you for? I don’t need some failed-Pulitzer-wannabe telling me what I already know.” 
Without much reserve, you scowl, “I’m surprised you even know what Pulitzer is.” Saying so was a surprise to even you, the harshness lingering bitter on your tongue, because you didn’t know this person, being so rude felt crass. No formal introduction, no small talk. However, it would only be more evident that Gojo was the kind of person who thrived off being able to grab you by the shins and drag you down to his juvenile level. 
He opens his mouth to respond but a hand barrels against the back of his shoulder, knocking him out of balance that he has to take a few steps forward to regain. “Keep it moving, you prick.”  
The man, a player a little taller and wider in stature, has long dark hair, strands coated in sweat that stick to his neck like vines down to his shoulders. He’s more solemn by miles, like night and day. You notice the black Captain band around his bicep. He reaches his calloused hand to shake yours, “Geto Suguru.”
“___, thank you.”
He continues walking along, seemingly dazed from the long practice that if he stood still for another second he would collapse from the exhaustion. You hear Gojo scoff walking away ahead of him, your name now etched in his brain to only torment you further. 
✰ 
It’s weeks of this. You begin to understand why writing about a group of 11 adrenaline-crazed, testosterone-driven football players, one of whom is by lack of reserve, an asshole was a project no one else wanted to take on. They spent most days practicing, but if it wasn’t practicing, they were fighting, gripping each other by the collar over a missed shot or an ignored pass when the other player was wide open. And if it wasn’t for either, Gojo spends any minute to let you know how much he doesn’t need your help. If it wasn’t for his scoffs and his scowls when he walked by you in the morning, it was the way your gaze would snap with his while he was whispering to another player, a smirk on both their faces, both sets of eyes transfixed on you.  
It’s a late afternoon, the sun still unwilling to waver its heat, washing the field a sea of vermillion, the grass no longer a shining vibrant green but coated amber by its rays. Practice ended maybe an hour ago, you couldn’t see far enough behind you where the clock hung in the box seats. You sat at one of the ruby seats close to the ground level, the blistering heat sizzling under your legs. You watched Gojo, the only player in the saffron-shaded field, reaching for a ball from his duffel, standing back from its position and kicking it with forceful speed, like a gutter punch, or the cocking of a gun. Like a bullet, the ball flies into the net and topples down to join the other dozen or so ones that had reached the same target. 
Gojo was a damn good player. You wondered if the problem was that he believed he was one in a million, or if he truly was one in a million and it pissed everyone off to see his lack of humility. In the meantime, he’s moved closer to left field where you sit, maybe just out of your earshot, to shoot from the left. He jogs back, running up to the ball, winding his right leg back then quickly switching his hips when his leg palindromes forward with his arms outstretched to the outreach of the field. You watch the ball dart through, once again, enveloped by the white mesh and landing on the patch. 
He pays you no mind, you’re not even sure he knows you’re there, it’s like he doesn’t even know where he is or it doesn’t matter where he is, in the amber grass, in the mud, it’s just about any way he can get a ball in the warp of the net. It was fully quiet by this point, except for the cicadas that danced with their signature anthem, though not too loud lest they break his focus. 
You smirk to yourself with a vicious idea. You watch him jog back again, gearing up for his shot, you watch him charge his right leg back, you wait for the moment the forefront of his foot is about to scoop the ball, and—
“Perfect weather we’re having, yeah?” You holler. The ball goes flying, hitting the perimeter pole with a clang! 
Gojo groans, fists balled up at his side, he lolls his head back to look skyward. The sun accentuates the sweat on the bridge of his nose, he is shaded blood orange all over. He turns to you, exasperated. 
“Are you fucking kidding me?” 
“Woah, I’m just trying to make small talk.”
He swings his head back, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, fucking small talk, I’m sure you are. What the hell are you still doing here anyway?” 
“Doing my job.”
He chuckles, a patronizing smile still tugging at his lips, “Hard day’s work, huh?” His condescending blue eyes flicker to yours. A bead of sweat runs down his neck and reaches the valley of his already glistening collarbone. 
“Hey, I’m here to help you. Matter of fact, I’ve been reading a bit while here.”
“Yeah?” 
He shifts from leg to leg, hands on his hips when he’s turned to you, under the same daze as Geto Suguru, unable to still his body in fear the piston halts. 
“Yeah, quite mad. A boy from Northside sent to Kyoto F.C. as a football prodigy. The third game from starting with the team, second half, scores a goal for the other team, I think might’ve been for —God, I can’t remember now—“
“Okayama,” he scoffs, he grins now but you can’t tell if this one is in malice or not, “I scored a goal for Okayama. What is this, you’re stalking me now? Reading my life story?”
“I do my research.”
Gojo pauses for a second, looking at the ball that he twirls from foot to foot, seemingly not saying much else and going back to his practice. 
“Though I’ll have you know, that team made it to J1 because of me.” You roll your eyes at this and it doesn’t go unnoticed. “What? I’m serious. And I’ll do the same with this team too. Write that in your little notebook.” 
“You really do think you’re one in a million,” you mumble. This doesn’t go unnoticed either despite the fact he’s standing far enough away that it should. 
“I am one in a million.” 
You tap your pen against the rigid white paper, wondering if it’s worth arguing, and by the tenth tap, deciding it is. “You’re one in eleven. In a match, one in twenty-two, with every player even for a small fragment thinking they’re one in a million.”
His smile isn’t genuine anymore, nor is it lingering on his lips at all. “You should focus more on your useless journalism,” he says, contempt like bile spitting from his lips.
“You should focus more on being one of eleven if you actually want to win tomorrow.”
Yeah, fucking high-road me, Gojo thinks. The pressure pinpoints at the base of his chest at the statement, for he understands what it means. It wasn’t about him, in any context. Even when he was benched. For bullshit reasons, he recalls. Idiot Suguru, instead of passing the ball to me when I’m wide open, he motions to move it to another. Ball gets intercepted and in a snap moment of rage, I try to intercept the intercept, foot sliding under the ball and knocking the opponent to the ground with a forceful push to the chest. Even then, even when it cost the team a loss, he thought if it wasn’t for him being benched, they would’ve won. But, if it wasn’t for his anger, his ego, he wouldn’t have gotten benched in the first place. If he thought as one in eleven, he wouldn’t have cost the whole team the chance at J1. 
He stares at the ball that comes to a halt at his ankles. If it was only that easy, he thinks. Before he joined Kyoto, he was made to believe he was special. How impossible it was for someone at his young age to be scouted by such a big team, even if they were nowhere near the Premier back then. He was made to believe he was the one who had to always score, who was the saving grace in the second half that tied the score and eventually overtook it completely. While he was part of a team, it was Gojo Satoru that the newscast would mention by name over and over. This pressure was only stacked on by his family until it became second nature for him to think so too. 
Gojo remembers the night he scored a goal for the other team. He smiled just then but back then, it was a gut punch, a sudden realization that hit him like a freight train for the first time since he was eight: Maybe he didn’t have it, he was a fool to think he was special. He couldn’t forget how bright the stadium lights all of a sudden shined. Have they always been this blindingly white? How he heard them ring loudly for the first time. He m
couldn’t forget the silence in the crowd, a breathless second before the cacophony of cheers and boos. He could never forget the way his father berated him in the car after everyone had already left the stadium. You’re either a winner or a failure. If you don’t win, this was all a waste and I’ve wasted my time on you. Back then, all Gojo could do was ball his fists, knuckles white, eyes locked onto his knees lest he dared shed a tear. From that moment, a second realization followed, he had to believe he was one in a million, he had no other choice. It wasn’t a player part of a team. It was either being a winner or a failure. 
“Whatever,” he grumbles quietly to his ball, kicking it and watching it warily bounce only a few feet ahead. For the first time since the morning, he notices his heart thumping in his rib cage. He grabs his duffel, paying no mind to you, and walks off the field.
It’s the day of the match and Gojo hasn’t stopped noticing his heart pumping in his chest. Since the evening prior, when he was in bed unable to sleep due to the loud thump, thump, thump that he swore was reverberating from his chest to his wrists and ankles to this morning on the way to the stadium to now, in the locker room. He could only fix his gaze on the floor beneath him, his coach’s speech muffled like he was speaking from the end of a tunnel. 
It’s only the way his Captain shuts his own locker, purposefully slamming so the metal rings for a second too long to snap Gojo from his daze. 
“The fuck is up with you?” He asks.
Gojo blinks in surprise like his eyes just learned how to blink. “Nothing.”
Geto sneers, “You're not nervous, are you?”
By this point, Gojo’s eyes have learned how to throw glaring daggers.
“No, I’m not fucking nervous. I’m just thinking.”
“Can’t believe you do that.”
Fuck you, he wants to spit back but grits his teeth instead, for he wouldn’t even be able to hear himself say it due to the bass that rumbles against the bones of his ribcage. 
It’s the day of the match and you don’t think you can feel yourself breathe. The atmosphere of the stadium is so palpably loud, fans from either team unforgiving with their cheers or boos. As you make your way down the steps to your seat next to the managers and stakeholders, a cold breeze that contrasts the warm weather from this past week reminds you of yesterday. You couldn’t get the image of Gojo walking off the field out of your head, the way he didn’t go back to practicing his strikes, the way his shoulders slumped and trembled, the grimace overtaking each feature of his face. A part of you feels bad for having potentially set him off like that, unsure of what it was that completely changed his body language like a ventriloquist that all of a sudden tugged at the strings so hard, that he pulled the egotistical Gojo out and left behind this hollow shell. You’re not able to mull over it much longer because the players have already begun walking out to the playfield, and the announcers begin their commentary.
This could be this team’s make-or-break match, a defining game that takes them closer to the finals and closer to their Premier. We all witnessed the Ace of the team, Gojo Satoru, penalize the team weeks ago. Do you think he has it in him to cooperate this time? 
You don’t catch any part of the answer, the roars of the crowd when the players shuffle out ringing from ear to ear. You can immediately spot Geto Suguru at the front, his stoic manner not letting up to how loud the crowd cheers for him. Gojo is last, at the end, and he too doesn’t give much reaction. Surprisingly. 
The players file in a straight line, parallel to the opposing team. Geto and the opposing team’s captain join the referee for the coin toss. It is by a stroke of pure coincidence that amid hundreds of people, Gojo glances up and immediately spots you in the second row from the drop-off and it is by a sliver of luck that you connect his gaze in that same moment. He takes this as a good sign. What are the fucking odds? He wants to be annoyed but can’t ignore the comedic jab from deep within his ribcage. You watch as he doesn’t scowl, doesn’t narrow his eyes like lasers, but shakes his head, a chuckle shuddering through him. 
It’s three minutes left of the added time and the teams are tied 1-1. Your insides feel like scrambled eggs. Gojo hadn’t scored a goal yet; the first and only goal played by Geto. The crowd had gone crazy for that one, you even caught yourself gasping in your seat when the ball spun in the net. The crowd’s cheers and nerves were contagious. The way your heart raced for a sport you hadn’t given much second thought a month ago was deafening, but you knew how the boys played, you got to see each of their tactics and their sportsmanship as a team. The way the offense switched legs last minute to divert the ball and make a pass to another. The way the goalie hopped from foot to foot never ending and always anticipating. 
It’s only a couple minutes left of time and both teams are level. Both teams have brought out their best tonight from the dugout, it’s been a tough match.
Intercept. That’s what Geto does when he gains possession of the ball. You heard the word a lot when you’d watch commentated games hours into the night. 
A through pass from Geto and Gojo is immediately off with it! He’s a tough player to catch, it’s him against another player, we know he might take this and could. But he makes a quick pass to a wide-open Haibara! 
Your body feels numb watching the pass, how quickly Gojo slides his leg, almost slipping and falling to pass to Haibara who stands to the left of him and quickly receives the ball. 
And he scores it! 
The crowd roars like a thrashing wave, and you catch yourself scrambling to your feet and cheering too. Gojo sprints to Haibara, jumping in his arms; He smiles hard, you don’t think you’ve seen his full set of teeth before. The rest of the boys topple on top of them like sardines as the referee rings the final whistle of the game. 
What a play we’ve seen tonight, it’s like night and day with this team. This only puts them closer to the Premier and hope they can keep this up for the season.
You wait for him in the same tunnel he stormed through the day before. You don’t want to admit that you’re waiting for him, but the stadium lights illuminate your presence standing there so perfectly that you can’t even hide it. You watch them walk through, all smiles, one player having their arm around another, another walking by you still in disbelief, another running by with a player on his back, guiding them towards the lockers. You spot Gojo walking up alone, chest heaving, and glistening. He looks up to immediately meet your gaze, a grin taking over his face, this one most genuine. 
“Hey, there you are,” he breathes out. He slows down in front of you, placing his head atop the crown of your head. He gives your hair a ruffle and chuckles breathlessly. You can’t ignore the way your heart is doing summersaults in your chest. “You were right by the way.” 
“Yeah? About what?”
“That teambuilding bullshit you were talking about, yesterday and all. I think without you, we would’ve stayed tied.”
Maybe you had a freak accident at some point during this project, hit your head so hard you forgot to feel any animosity towards Gojo because the stadium lights spotlight the most ridiculous smile on your face for everyone to see. 
“Guess I was useful after all.”
Gojo laughs at that, a real-from-the-belly laugh. He gives your head one last gentle pat before he continues his stride to the locker room, looking back once more for your reaction. 
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NOTE: i feel a bit burnt out and wanted to write a simple drabble w/ this idea however it surpassed the drabble word count but not the low-effort drabble vibes i hope -- maybe MAYBE in the future i can make a second part thats more juiceyyyy come chat! lmk what you thought! mwah (▰˘◡˘▰)
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lily-bisque · 2 days ago
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satoru couldn’t keep his eyes off of your neck.
the scattered bruises of purple to red to blue littering your complexion had him restless, foot tapping impatiently against the floor.
it had images from the previous night flashing in his mind where he had you stuffed on his cock at the back of his car, partition drawn as ijichi blasted music to ignore the groans and moans just a few feet behind him.
he couldn't deny just how greedy he was nearly twenty four hours ago, marking you up when you were fucked-out, just for you to scold him when he peppered soft kisses after you were both sweaty and catching your breaths.
but, of course, no one at this stifling banquet was really able to tell with the carefully placed color corrector and concealer you’d dabbed against the skin to avoid any scandals. except him, thanks to his exceptional vision.
satoru, the greatest sorcerer of the modern age, and pretty little you, the window assigned to him as of late. 
his lengthy arms were tossed over the backrest, watching you talk up these sleazy old men, some speaking condescendingly at your lack of cursed energy reserves, others inquiring about your love life to see if you’d accept a loveless marriage with their even more violating grandsons.
he was fucking repulsed by it—the smile you feigned to keep your peace in the sorcerer world due to your lack of power, the pretend laugh at their shitty jokes that barely reached your eyes, the way you’d allow these men even a sliver of your attention.
it was all beyond him.
okay, not entirely beyond him. he knew what it was like to be nearly powerless to the higher-ups, even with the power he wielded himself. but satoru was blinded with something akin to jealousy, nearly turning green at the sight of some wiry-beared man eyeing your cleavage.
which was why he found himself striding over to you, rubbing your head with his knuckle playfully, before pretending to be called in for some mission.
those old geezers would never expect it, no.
that he’d have you bent over in the alleyway, panties shoved between your teeth, your hands smacked against the brick wall as satoru dragged his tip between your drooling folds.
“didn’t know you had a thing for senior citizens,” he cruelly mocked, pushing just the tip in.
oh, he could be so mean.
your knees wobbled, muttering something back to him he couldn’t understand. “can’t hear you through those soaking undies, princess. be patient, this won’t take more than a couple minutes with a needy girl like you.”
and then it was another inch inside you, veins dragging brutally against your gummy and tight walls. “fucking suffocating me,” he choked out, six eyes glaring down at where you were connected, lifting his sunglasses up to his head. “sucking me up so greedily,” he dreamily sighed, hands gripping ruthlessly at your hips.
your blown pupils darted around the empty alleyway, praying no one would walk over to see satoru fucking you dizzy. he was rarely this mean, normally stuttering and whining when he’d barely push his swelling cockhead inside, but it seemed the show you were forced to put on had him… peeved.
“ya know,” he started, bringing a hand to skim through your hair before tugging back just enough for your eyes to roll back. “there’s a reason i brought you out here.”
his tip brushed against that sweet spot, making you whimper, pussy clenching down on his length tight enough to make him bow forward. “mmm fuck. i-i couldn’t help but stare at that pretty neck of yours.”
he eyed the skin, dragging a tongue over his upper teeth with a hungry glint in his eyes and nearly salivating at the sight.
“remember j-just how it tastes.”
he bared his teeth, canines on full display, as he folded in half, digging his mouth into your collarbone.
a muffled mewl trickled from your lips that turned into a shriek at the sudden pain that wracked your body with shudders. despite how overstimulating it was, your hips found a mind of their own as they pushed back to match his thrusts.
“needy girl, hm?” he grunted, breaths raggedy and shallow, eyebrows knitting as his tip nudged your cervix. 
you nodded, drool tricking from the seam of your lips, nearly gagging on your own underwear. you could feel your eyes crossing, breath hitching with each thrust into you, any words dying on your tongue as he began to suck greedily against the column of your neck.
a few gentle taps from satoru had you regaining your nearly lost consciousness, stilling inside you, save for his shaft twitching. “breathe, baby. can’t have you passing out on me.” he taunted, voice sultry.
you lazily nodded, one hand reaching back to gently tug on his milky hair. he grinned, something fluttering in his chest as he removed the panties from your lips and stuffed them into his pocket, you hardly taking notice. 
“g-gojo,” you breathlessly whined, ass pressing into his pelvis. 
he shushed you, whispering sweet praises of how you were doing so well for him before bringing a hand to cover your mouth and muffle your sounds. “can’t have someone catching us, baby.”
he then leaned in, licking one long, languid stripe against your cheek damp with tears before cooing into your ear. “and it’s satoru when i’m inside you.”
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blasphemyandbackshots · 4 days ago
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Hybrid/pet AUs ok? Bc I would love to see your take on Gojo as a snow leopard, and Geto as a black fox~ maybe with a doting owner that looooves to spoil them, and just can’t say no to whatever her precious pets want~
now got the fattest crush on them both. I even wrote more, but didn’t want to overdo it 😭 also when they talk about her heat, they mean she’s ovulating.
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ღ geto x you x gojo —good boys
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You didn’t mean to raise them spoiled. But you were only human and they were just so good. So precious.
Suguru liked your lap. Long, sleek and warm, his tail curled delicately around your thigh as he read his book across your knees. His ears twitched now and then when you stroked them, but he never asked you to stop. Just leaned in, lazily affectionate, letting out a pleased little sigh when you scratched under his chin.
Satoru was the opposite. Huge. Heavy. Dramatic. The snow leopard hybrid had draped himself fully across the couch, head in your lap, legs hanging off the side like he owned the entire space and he did. Because he owned you. You’d barely sat down when he grabbed you.
“You smell different,” he muttered, nose pressed into your belly. “Were you with someone else?”
“No,” you said patiently, carding your fingers through his thick white hair. “Just the market.”
“Mm. Still too far. You didn’t bring us anything.”
“I brought snacks.”
His ears perked. Suguru’s tail flicked with interest.
“Good girl,” Suguru said with a soft smirk. “Always thinking about us.”
You flushed. They were both way too good at doing making you feel like the pet, while they lounged like kings. You couldn’t help it though. Not when they looked at you like that.
“You want the little cakes I got you, or?”
“Feed us,” Satoru interrupted, without shame. “You know I don’t like crumbs on my paws.”
“I have utensils—”
“Mouth, baby.” Suguru’s voice was velvet. “Be our sweet little feeder.”
And like always you said yes.
Later, after soft pastries and belly rubs and contented hybrid purring, you brushed out their tails while they napped on you.
Suguru’s black fur was sleek and clean, but he still made these quiet, blissed-out noises when you groomed him. His tail twitched with every gentle tug of the brush.
Satoru’s tail was thick and snowy, needing extra attention. He stretched, shirt riding up to expose the pale skin of his hips and groaned theatrically when your fingers scratched the base.
“You’re so good to us,” he murmured, lips grazing your thigh. “So, so good.”
You smiled. You were lucky, you told yourself. Two hybrids who adored you, who never left your side, who looked at you like you were their world. You didn’t notice the way they shared a glance behind your back.
You didn’t notice Suguru’s hand slide across Satoru’s chest. Didn’t hear the low, whispered words;
“It’s almost her heat.”
“We should take care of her this time.”
“Together.”
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It started with a scent. Soft at first and barely noticeable. Just a trace of warmth on your skin, a flush under your cheeks. But they noticed immediately.
Suguru was the first to nuzzle into your throat. “You’re warm,” he murmured, voice low, violet eyes dark with something deeper than usual affection. “Soft. Sweet. It’s time, isn’t it?”
You blinked. “Time for—?”
Behind you Satoru growled. Not angry, but needy. His tongue dragged up your neck, purring against your ear. “Your heat, baby,” he whispered. “We smell it. Feel it. You’ve been teasing us all week.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“But you didn’t stop either, did you?” Suguru’s fingers slid down your waist. “Didn’t stop feeding us from your lips. Didn’t stop petting us. Didn’t say no when we begged for your hands. Your lap.”
You swallowed. “You’re my boys. I like taking care of you.”
“Oh,” Satoru moaned, grinding against your back. “You’re gonna say that while we fuck you full?”
Your knees gave out and they caught you. They laid you down in their shared nest. All soft furs, velvet blankets and the whole room drenched in their scent. Pheromones thick in the air. You could barely think. Barely breathe. Every nerve in your body screamed yes when they pinned you between them.
Suguru kissed you slow and deep first. His tongue was warm, fangs teasing your bottom lip. His hands held your hips open, his tail flicking behind him, body pressed close and sure. “Want to taste how sweet your heat’s gotten,” he murmured. “Bet you’re already leaking for us.”
Satoru was starving. His mouth moved down your body, leaving wet trails, growls vibrating against your belly. His claws ripped through your underwear in one easy tear. And then his mouth was on you. You screamed. Loud. Choked. Shameless.
He moaned like he was the one being touched. “Tastes like you need us,” he groaned, fucking you with his tongue, arms wrapped around your thighs to hold you still. “Gonna stuff you full. You’ll never get rid of our scent again.”
Suguru kissed your throat, his voice dripping with praise. “You’re shaking already? We haven’t even put it in yet.”
“Please,” you begged. “I need—I want—”
“You want both?” Satoru teased, pulling his face from between your legs, lips slick and glistening. “Want your spoiled hybrids to fill both your holes at once?”
You nodded wildly, desperately and they broke. You ended up on all fours, body trembling, drool on your lips from how hard they made you cum. Satoru fucked you from behind. His cock deep and thick, claws gripping your hips, his growls right in your ear. Suguru was in front. His big palm cradling your jaw, his cock sliding between your lips, velvet voice full of sin.
“Look at you,” he breathed. “So good like this. So ready to be ruined.”
You moaned around him, thighs shaking as Satoru slammed into you from behind. His cock filled you completely. Every thrust pressing into the perfect spot, wet slaps echoing through the den as he bred you.
“You’re ours now,” he grunted. “Say it. Fucking say it.”
You pulled off Suguru’s cock long enough to sob,“I’m yours—yours—please don’t stop.”
And they didn’t. Not until your belly was full of them. Not until your voice was wrecked, your legs too weak to stand, your body marked and glowing with their scent. They licked you clean and kissed your tears. Tucked you between them, soft and warm and adored.
While you drifted in and out of sleep, Satoru nuzzled your neck and purred, “You really can’t say no to us, huh?”
Suguru just smiled, rubbing your belly like you were the one with a tail now.
And you? You sighed softly and whispered, “I never want to.”
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What followed was new, but not unusual.
Satoru dragging every blanket in the apartment into one room. Suguru moving the pillows into a pile, then rearranging them over and over again until they were just right. Your favorite hoodie disappeared. So did the oversized sweater you wore to bed.
At first, you thought they were just being their usual chaotic selves. Until you walked in and saw them crouched in the middle of it all. Tail-twitching, ears alert and completely focused. You understood that they were nesting. For you.
“Hey,” you said gently from the doorway. “What’s going on?”
Satoru turned first. Hair messy, pupils blown wide, wearing nothing but sweatpants slung low over his hips. His white ears flicked. “It’s not done.”
Suguru didn’t even glance up from where he was arranging the softest fleece you owned. “She’ll need warmth. Somewhere safe.”
“I’m safe here,” you said with your heart melting.
“But you’ll be in heat again soon,” Suguru replied, eyes glowing purple. “You need a proper den.”
Satoru stalked toward you on all fours, like the big cat he was. Then rose to press his face into your stomach. His tail curled possessively around your leg. “You’re ours. We have to take care of you.”
You didn’t protest, because the room was soft and warm. Smelled like them, like musk and vanilla and skin. The plush blankets were already molded to your shape. The dim lighting, the walls padded with hanging fabric, the comfort of being wrapped in everything they wanted to give you. You were helpless against it. So you let them pull you in.
They made you sit in the middle of the pile while they circled you like watchful predators, rearranging the nest with careful touches.
Suguru added a silk scarf that still held your scent. “This keeps you calm.”
Satoru dropped one of your stuffed animals beside you. “You always sleep with it when we’re not in bed.”
You flushed. “You noticed that?”
He licked your cheek. “We notice everything.”
You were trembling by the time they were done. From the way they looked at you, like they’d built a temple to house you. Like you were their goddess, their precious treasure and they’d burn the world to keep you safe.
Suguru kissed your palm. “Lie down, baby.”
“Let us keep you warm,” Satoru murmured, already climbing into the nest behind you.
You obeyed. And once you were tucked in between them, fox tail curled around your waist, snow leopard arms caging you close, they both purred. That deep content purr that felt like warmth and safety.
“Do you feel it?” Suguru whispered.
“What?”
“The bond.”
You nodded, already half-asleep.
And Satoru’s soft voice, that cracked, full of everything he didn’t know how to say, breathed into your skin, “You’re home.”
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Your body acted up again. Warmth in your belly. An ache in your thighs. That subtle, undeniable flutter of ovulation. You knew it was coming. But you didn’t mean to do anything weird. Just a few harmless things; You folded the blankets in the nest a certain way. Then you added one of their worn shirts and brought your favorite plush into the pile and curled around it. Just comfort things. Instinctive. But your hybrids? They lost their fucking minds.
Suguru was the first to notice. He stood at the edge of the nest, sharp-eyed and still, watching you rearrange the center of the pile. You didn’t even realize he was there until he spoke.
“You made it.”
You looked up. “Huh?”
He didn’t blink or move. Just sniffed the air and his pupils blew wide. “You made the nest while you’re ovulating. While you’re in heat.”
Your mouth opened and closed again. “I didn’t mean—”
Behind him, Satoru appeared in a blur of white fur and muscle, fully shifted into that dangerous, beautiful hybrid form. Sharp claws, snowy tail swaying, sweat-slicked chest heaving. “You want our kits,” he growled, stalking forward. His paws tapping impatiently. “You’re ready.”
“No—wait—I didn’t say—”
“You don’t have to,” Suguru purred, crawling toward you. “Your body did.”
They didn’t give you time to explain. Because your scent was thick in the nest. It was sweet and fertile and desperate. And every instinct in their blood screamed to fill you. Breed you. Mark you.
Satoru pinned you first, licking at your throat, purring deep into your skin. “You want it, don’t you? Want your belly round. Want to be dripping with us.”
Suguru was behind you now, hands on your hips, tail flicking against your thigh. “You want to be a mama, sweetheart? Want to carry our pups?”
“Say yes,” Satoru whispered. “Say yes and we’ll give you everything.”
And gods help you, you whispered. “Yes.”
You didn’t remember how the rest of your clothes came off. Not that you cared much. Suguru sank slow and deep into you from behind, spreading you open with a low growl. His knot was already swelling, teasing you, promising more.
Satoru kissed your belly, murmuring into your skin. “Gonna be so full, baby. So swollen. We’ll take care of you. Feed you. Nest with you. You’ll never need anything but us.”
You cried out as Suguru bottomed out, cock curved just right, stretching you around that knot that would eventually lock you in place. You felt so full already, but then Satoru moved forward and pressed the head of his cock to your lips.
“Let me in too,” he begged. “Wanna taste how sweet our breeder is.”
You moaned around him, tears in your eyes, utterly surrounded. Held. Bred. Worshipped.
Suguru fucked you slow and deep, whispering praise and gripping your hips like he was afraid you’d vanish. Satoru stroked your hair while you sucked him down, his voice gone soft and aching.
“Good girl. Good little mate. You’re gonna take us so well.”
And when Suguru finally knotted you, when you screamed around Satoru’s cock and felt that hot flood of seed inside your womb, they both purred like it was the happiest moment of their lives.
They didn’t stop at one. Not when you were still ovulating. Not when your belly could still take more. They kept you in the nest all night, swapping places, licking your slick from each other’s mouths, filling you until you sobbed with overstimulation and bliss.
Until your belly was swollen, skin sticky with cum, thighs trembling and Suguru kissed your inner thigh and said. “You’ll give us beautiful pups.”
And Satoru curled around you, tail wrapped over your belly like a blanket, whispering. “Our good little mama.”
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yuwritesstuff · 3 days ago
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You thought you'd hidden your romantasy books well enough.
They were neatly stacked on the bottom shelf of your bookcase, spines turned inward, behind a few academic-looking hardcovers. But somehow, Satoru had sniffed them out like a bloodhound with too much time and curiosity.
He was sprawled out on your bed now, flipping dramatically through one of it, a smug grin tugging at his lips.
“His stormy eyes burned into her soul as he whispered promises of forever—” he read aloud in a deep, fake-sultry voice, then looked up at you, eyes glinting. “Wow. You really read this stuff?”
You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “Satoru—”
He sat up. “No, no, I’m not judging! I’m just… deeply fascinated. Do these men always clench their jaws when they’re feeling things? Is that a requirement?”
“You’re impossible.”
“But am I at least as hot as this sword-wielding prince of shadows?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows as he held up the cover of the book. “Be honest.”
You shot him a half-hearted glare, but couldn’t hide the smile pulling at your lips. “Well… These are just silly, comforting books. Before I met you, I really thought those guys were the only kind of love I’d ever get.”
Satoru blinked. For a moment, he was confused by the sincerity of your confession and the vulnerability in your words.
Oh sweet thing, you just wanted to be loved so much. You were so romantic and cute, he wanted to give you everything.
When he looked at you, the cocky smile was still there, but something softer glowed beneath it. A flush touched his cheeks, almost shy if it weren’t for how boldly he asked:
“Hm… which one’s your favorite scene?”
You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”
“Because,” he said, setting the book down and walking toward you with a lazy stride, “I’m wondering which one we should recreate.”
Your breath hitched.
He stopped in front of you, tall and glittering with mischief, his voice dropped lower.
“I mean, surely you’ve imagined one or two with someone better than a fictional prince?” He leaned closer. “Say, someone oh so tall, white-haired, and devastatingly charming!”
In fact, you forgot about these books when you started dating Satoru. Everything you could imagine was now connected to him and his bright personality.
You laughed nervously, your cheeks fully flushed now. “You’re ridiculous.”
He grinned. “Ridiculously perfect, maybe?”
His hand brushed yours — lightly, testing the waters — and he held your gaze. To see your happy, blushing face and big eyes full of excitement.
“So,” he said again, gentle this time, “tell me, princess. What should our lovemaking chapter look like?”
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rosy-hollow · 3 days ago
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"Daddy! Why are you sad?"
Satoru chuckles, ruffling his daughter's hair affectionately, scooping her up in his large hands and situating her on his lap.
"Aw...is my pumpkin concerned for Daddy? Don't worry kiddo, Daddy isn't sad- just..." he paused, thinking of the right word. "tired."
Your daughter pouts, cerulean eyes peering up to gaze into her father's. "You should buy a pony Daddy! That way you won't be sad!"
Satoru laughs in surprise. "A pony, huh? Maybe I will...but I don't think Mommy will let us."
"Mommy won't let you do what?" you say, coming up from behind the couch and lean over the back to see the situation, eyebrow raised in suspicion. "Satoru, what propaganda are you teaching our child?"
"Daddy said you wouldn't let us buy a pony!" your daughter chirps and you stare at him incredulously.
"Absolutely not."
"But Mommy!"
"No!"
"C'mon sweetheart-"
"Stop enabling her!"
If he could, Satoru would have that memory tattooed to the inside of his brain, memorizing the way you laughed, your daughter's giddy face, the fuzzy domestic feeling in his heart, everything. If he could, Satoru would do anything in his power to feel that feeling again.
But he couldn't.
Because yet again, Satoru Gojo experiences one of the feelings he thought he left behind, all those years ago.
Grief.
It was during the war, when Satoru comes home late from a battle, only to find you lying on the cold tiled floor, in a pool of your own blood. In your arms, your 6 year old daughter, unconscious with a serious head injury.
A curse had come into your home in the middle on the night, and attacked you while he was gone. And Satoru wasn't there to protect you.
You didn't survive the encounter. You had lost far too much blood for the doctors to nurse you back to health, and your body was damaged beyond repair.
Your daughter was spared however. She was able to be nursed back to health, but her severe head injury gave her severe and permanent amnesia. She had no idea who you or Satoru was.
His own daughter- just…gone.
After that, Satoru just...broke.
He quit his teaching job at Jujutsu High, and left jujutsu society without a trace.
Satoru wasn't a stranger to hiding his true emotions, always masking any negative feelings behind the mask he'd worn for so many years.
But when you died, Satoru had died with you.
The Satoru Gojo of the physical world was nothing more than a hollow body with an empty heart, pain caused it to wither into nothing, as if it was never there.
"Why are you sad Daddy?" He could almost hear her say.
He's tired, he would say, like always.
But never why.
He was tired of watching his daughter grow up from afar, tired of not living a life with you at his side. Tired of waking up in a cold bed, in an empty house, far too big and lonely for him to live in by himself. Tired of being alone at night, consumed by nightmares and the suffocating feeling of grief and depression that overwhelmed him so much it hurt to breathe. Tired of not waking up to your kisses, your love, tired of not waking up to you, falling asleep with you, tired of not being with you.
How could he live without you? You the love of his life, his sweetheart, his everything. How could he live without you by his side, without the life you had made together? How could he watch his daughter grow up without you there to grow old with by his side?
The truth is- he couldn’t.
And Satoru knew that.
Soon, he promised himself. Soon, he'd be able to reunite with you again.
"You told me to buy a pony but all I wanted was you..." - Hidden in the Sand, Tally Hall.
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A/N: sad sad sad reposts...
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everymangagojo · 2 days ago
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fawniette · 2 days ago
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gojo + cockwarming 🐰 !
thinking about gojo who always begs you to cock warm when he’s feeling extra needy, just to fuck you not even five minutes later simply because he just can’t control himself. it happens every time you say yes, so you’re not even sure why you keep giving into him. the feeling is unbearable for gojo, the way your warm, tight pussy wraps around his cock. he can feel an occasional flutter of your walls and it’s driving him insane, whining in your ear, “can you move, baby.. just a little bit?”, and before you can even reply, he’s slowly rocking his hips, thrusting upwards that has you gasping out in surprise. if it didn’t feel so good, you’d be scolding him. but when he hears the positive noises that come from your lips, he’s taking it an an affirmative, continuing to slowly fuck you on his lap as he mutters against your ear, “m’sorry.. just can’t help myself.”, you’re huffing out loud at his words, but you’re still rocking your hips as his pretty pink tip kisses your sweet spot, “you’re so fucking annoying, toru.”, you breath out, mixed with your moans. and gojo can’t help but smirk at your words, you might be right, but you always let him have his way with you.
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tqra · 2 days ago
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my sweet silly lovesick hubby AHDHJSF I LAB HIM SO MUCH.🥹🥹
satoru "i love my wife" gojo.
the man was practically a puppy nipping at your heels. when you were dating, he attempted to be less clingy at times because he didn't want to scare you off, but since you're stuck with him forever now, he has no issue clinging to you.
you both could be in public, and his arm would be around your waist the whole time. if you're looking at something, he'll hug you from behind and rest his chin on your head until you're done looking.
and also, ever since you both got married, know that you won't be addressed as anything but 'my wife' for a while.
there's no more sweet names like baby, honey, or love. it's always 'my wife', but emphasize the 'my'.
he will literally scream the 'my' part and just normally say 'wife' because he wants everyone to know that you're his.
"do you want your usual?" satoru would ask as you both walked into a cafe, and you would nod in response while he just gave you a smile. his hand was currently interlocked with yours, and with how tight he was holding it, you knew you wouldn't be able to let go any time soon. the barista looked at you both as she gifted you a smile, and she turned her attention to satoru. "what can i get you two?" "i'll have..." satoru hummed before pointing at a coffee on the screen. it couldn't even classify as coffee—it mostly looked like foam and whipped cream with a bunch of sprinkles and mochi on it. "that one." the barista nodded as she tapped on the screen in front of her, "is that all?" "also, can MY—" the cafe fell quiet with satoru's shout, and the barista just quietly laughed once you smacked his arm. yet, the man only grinned before contiuing. "can my wife have that one?" he pointed to the screen that had your usual order, and the woman nodded. "your total is twelve dollars and sixty-seven cents." "can you write 'gojo's wife' on her cup?" the barista nodded at satoru's question, and you just frowned. yet, you didn't mean the frown. more than anything, you wanted to jump into satoru's arms and laugh at his stupidity. a few minutes later, your orders came out, and on your cup read 'gojo's wife.' when you finished your drink, you cleaned out the cup and stored it in a box with all the little trinkets satoru has given you over the years.
that's also another thing about being married to satoru—he gives you random things, and you can never tell what he's going to give you next.
one day, he'll bring you your favorite flowers, and then the next day, he'll bring you a random rock he found on the ground.
the best part about that, though, is the face he makes when he gives you the trinket.
he'll have a bright grin on his face while holding out the object in both of his hands, and if his blindfold is off, his eyes are practically shining with excitement and curiosity as to how you'll react.
and trust me, he memorizes how you react. that's one of the things you love most about him. he pays attention.
if you get really happy over one gift, he'll start bringing things like that around more. if you only smile at him and thank him for the gift, expect to find those things in the trash later.
he wants all your trinkets and gifts to be things that make you insanely happy—not just meh.
though, he doesn't just pay attention to how you react over trinkets. he memorizes everything about you.
he can tell your mood from the tiniest things.
if your eye twitches even the slightest bit, he knows you're irritated and will get rid of whatever is bothering you. if the corners of your lips fall down for a split second, he knows you're upset and will try to make you laugh. if you narrow your eyes, he knows you're mad, and will try to calm you down.
the reason he does this is because he wants you to know that he does pay attention, for he never wants you to feel neglected.
another thing he does is that he will have a serious conversation with you on the oddest topics.
his tone will make people think that he's talking about the earths issues or whatnot, but in reality, he's just talking about how it's stupid some birds have wings but then they can't fly.
"what do you mean ostriches can't fly because they're too heavy? are you calling them fat?" satoru frowned at you from where he sat—slowly resting his head on the kitchen island while you rummaged through the fridge for dinner ideas. "yes, i am calling them fat. they're too heavy to fly." your answer only made satoru pout. "then why do they have wings at all!? it's like false advertising for birds—can you even call them birds at that point if they can't fly!?" "birds are defined by their wings, feathers, and beak." "okay, first of all, you're a nerd." satoru commented as you walked over to the kitchen island, and you leaned against it while staring at satoru. "and secondly, that's stupid. wings are supposed to help you fly. like, why do penguins have wings?" "they're flippers, toru." "SHUT UP! THEY LOOK LIKE WINGS!"
now, satoru does a lot of random things, but a favorite has to be when your phone camera is on.
no, not just on him, but you as well.
your selfies? most of them have him in it. it's either his hand is in a peace sign, his arm is wrapped around you, or he secretly leans his head in frame and sticks out his tongue.
your mirror photos? his arm is wrapped around your waist with his chin on your shoulder, or if he's shirtless, he will step behind you and flex.
you complain, but you always end up looking back at those photos with a smile.
now, when the camera is on him, he does take it seriously. many think he would be funny with it, but satoru knows he's handsome.
so, he has to make sure all of your photos of him are good-looking so when you look back at them—he knows you look back at them—you remember how amazing he is.
but if you asked him to be silly, he just has to do it.
not because he wants to, but because you want him to.
he'd do anything for you, which is why he's satoru 'i love my wife' gojo.
he would legally change his middle name to that if it proved to you that he is hopelessly in love with you.
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a/n : someone's reblog text of one of my other writings inspired this.
comments & reblogs are appreciated !!
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