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#satoru gojou
hijinkiewinkies · 3 days
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grown ass man
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artkiving · 1 month
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Dad Gojo Shenanigans part 1
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+ bonus
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He is so done.
(reblogs and shares appreciated 🩵) very much inspired by this art by @cobaltfluff
DAD Gojo Shenanigans continues..(Part 2)
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yunymphs · 2 months
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𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔... never thought that in a million years he would be using his six eyes to play hide 'n seek with little kids.
his own little kids for that matter.
you always told your children that their father had good eyes, but they've never believed you till now. you're seated on the sofa next to your blindfolded husband, head leaning on his shoulder as you both take in the shenanigans of your young children.
"where am i, daddy?" the youngest chirps, teetering on her feet behind the sofa in the living room.
"hm. let me guess." your husband chuckles, just to fuel your daughter's antics.
he knows exactly where she stands and what soft, fuzzy pieces of the carpet tickle her little toes as she sways back and forth in her little pink princess dress. your husband's black bandage is wrapped around his eyes, and your children stifle their giggles as he pretends to ponder.
"he can't see us, can he?" the oldest whispers.
you shake your head with a soft smile.
a beat of silence before your husband speaks again.
"you're behind the sofa, aren't you, my little flower?" gojo speaks, and a fit of his daughter's girlish giggles makes his heart feel as warm as springtime.
"okay, but where am i, dad?" the oldest asks from where he's perched on a pillow in the center of the room.
"hmm." gojo hums. "you're sitting on mommy's favorite pillow. you're right in front of me."
a soft gasp is drawn from your son, and you watch as gojo lifts the black blindfold. he gives you a playful wink when the kids aren't looking before adjusting the blindfold.
"that's not fair!" the oldest protests. "is he cheating?"
you laugh.
"your father is definitely not cheating." you wave your hand in front of his blindfolded eyes. "see?"
your son pouts.
"that's so cool, daddy!" the youngest smiles. "can we do it again?"
"if mommy says yes." gojo replies, voice smooth as ever.
two pairs of puppy eyes meet yours.
when you say yes, they both cheer happily.
and one day they'll grow old, and he'll tell them about his six eyes and his keen gifts and treasures. his kids will grow up and gasp, shocked that their father really did have exceptional eyesight. they'll laugh and remember the times their father used to play with them, and look at those childhood memories fondly. but for now they're still little and full of light and spirit, hearts warm and tummies full with the dinner you made them an hour ago.
"okay, go hide again!" gojo chuckles, and his children scurry off with pattering feet.
your husband presses his lips to your shoulder gently before slipping his blindfold back on. a silent thanks.
he'll let children be children.
after all, no one is allowed to take the youth from young people, not even himself.
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© YUNYMPHS 2024 modifications, reposts, and translations of any kind are strictly prohibited.
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kenm4vhs · 1 month
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there’s just something extremely hot about satoru playing with his blindfold with his hair down
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starlightoru-gojo · 3 months
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Everybody moved on, but I, I stayed here
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gojorgeous · 2 months
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"sure thing"
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pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare. a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! creds: twitter template by @cafekitsune wc: 7.8k
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“Who?!” 
No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said. 
“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.
“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind. 
“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers. 
You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.” 
Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.” You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path. 
“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back. 
“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket. 
He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.” 
Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?” 
He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. “Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”
You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t. 
Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s. 
“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?” 
Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you. 
“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying. 
“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong. 
~
It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches. 
You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment. 
You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.
It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you. 
You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike. 
You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now. 
You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when– you fail. You doubt it will be enough.
You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him. 
The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.
The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside. 
You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.
You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it. 
You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet. 
You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face. 
“Hey, Dean,” you call.
He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease. 
“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo. 
Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night. 
“Yeah. Long day at work.” 
A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?” 
You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.” 
You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you. 
“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there. 
Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance. 
You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.” 
His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?” 
You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”
There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.” 
You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life. 
You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight. 
The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.
You’re shocked when it’s the other way around. 
“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder. 
Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines. 
You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs. 
You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.” 
His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool. 
“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone. 
He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride. 
You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention. 
“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish? 
You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman. 
You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself. 
“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive. 
His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?” 
His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.” 
Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours. 
There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps. 
“You’re a sorcerer,” he says. 
You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet. 
You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.” 
A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?” 
You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?” 
You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like. 
He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then… 
“So, what’s your technique” 
You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual. 
“Bet I could find out.” 
That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.” 
He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…” 
You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.” 
You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks. 
“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job… 
You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.” 
His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?” 
Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth. 
“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing. 
You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?” 
Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal. 
“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.
He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.” 
The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to. 
When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”
You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit. 
Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now. 
He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.
He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone. 
You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid. 
You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.
As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.
“That was Versace,” he whines. 
You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle. 
“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end. 
His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans. 
He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever. 
A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.
Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles. 
You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to. 
You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs. 
Now. Now, while he’s not looking.
You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now. 
You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please… 
You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land. 
Fuck. 
He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework. 
“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together…” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly. 
This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight. 
You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it. 
You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better. 
He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?” 
You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you. It’s over. 
You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.” 
He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls. 
His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.” 
You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see. 
“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs. 
Your lips part. “You knew?” 
That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?” 
Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him. 
But you have one thing on him. 
“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”
There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.” 
You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.” 
His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.” 
You freeze. He notices. 
He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?” 
Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–” 
He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation. 
“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.” 
Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo. 
“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?” 
Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced. 
His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display. 
“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin. 
You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.
His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes. 
“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?” 
You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree. 
“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…” 
He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides. 
“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone. 
There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again. 
“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.” 
He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.” 
You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes. 
He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased. 
He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.
Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.
His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.
“I think you like this, gorgeous.” 
Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.” 
He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”
He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue. 
You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right. 
Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you. 
“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.
“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault. 
“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.
God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes. 
You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.
Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.
It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away. 
He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?” 
Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you
You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone. 
“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.
A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.
“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick. 
“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole. 
He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out. 
“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.” 
He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages. 
You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.
“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.” 
You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut. 
Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.” 
You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.
A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.” 
His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you. 
A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth. 
“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him. 
He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.” 
His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same. 
“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.
“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.
You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant. 
You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs. 
You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind. 
“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”
You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”
His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be. 
You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you. 
“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death. 
“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest. 
He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?” 
You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.” 
He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?” 
You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe. 
You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”
You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.” 
His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?” 
You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.
There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been. 
“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free. 
“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position. 
He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”
You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind. 
“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you. 
He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.” 
There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?” 
He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”
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homuras · 6 months
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— Goodnight, Gojou Satoru. We'll meet again in the new world.
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littleholmes · 11 months
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Satoru’s been out for less than three minutes after being away for 19 days in the timeline (over 1000 for us) and he’s already talking shit to every villain in the vicinity, mouth writing checks he can quite definitely cash—I’ve missed him so much!
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fxshigurosbae · 4 months
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hello! can i pls request for breeding session w olderbf!gojo and youngergf!reader? like gojo is in his 30s and reader is around 19+..
also like the reader is so innocent and gojo's jist a pervy old man who wants to ruin reader's pussy and make her his good little toy
thankyou!!ᕙ( • ‿ • )ᕗ
my requests aren’t open but i’ll make an exception because this is a good request, thank you by the way! hope you enjoy it ⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
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the perverted boyfriend
୨୧⋆。˚gojo satoru {32} x f!reader {19}
✶ mature content | mdni ! breeding, age gap, pet names, corruption kink, dacryphilia, cum play, barebacking, creampie, strong language.
taglist | masterlist
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it’s taboo, but it’s your reality now.
you have a boyfriend who’s like a decade older. there was no true explanation for how you both even got together, specially because gojo satoru’s personality is quite eccentric, and he always looked like the type not to settle, so you becoming his young girlfriend was probably a weird, but also good thing.
you’ve only had a few intimate moments ever since you started dating a year ago — met at 18, dating a little before 19, now a few months from 20. gojo’s always made love to you, gone slow, used a condom, one round only, cuddles and after care, sweet kisses and no dirty talking (very contradictory), so that behavior was truly something unexpected, but you didn’t know his true colors. . . that’s because he knows how innocent you are. he knew that just by when you didn’t know what an orgasm felt like, and for having a pussy so tight, and soaking wet from only a few kisses and hugging your waist.
gojo’s not like this, he is just prepping you, because he’s a pervert.
he wants to ruin every single inch of chastity there’s still left in you, he always did. for him, he thinks you’re a little virgin. the explanation? because you haven’t sucked his cock yet, nor let him fuck you raw — after that, he’ll take you as his little personal toy, and no longer his pure princess.
little did you know how bad this man will ruin you.
gojo’s always the one who starts with the mood, he’s always the one looking for something, and he always gets it because he knows deep down that you’re a little whore at heart. by the way he holds you in his arms, kisses your cheeks, kisses the corner of your lips and moves on to making out so endearingly and careful is why he always, always, gets what he wants, he’s just being patient.
right now, he’s pursuing you again, but this time he’s got other plans.
why? gojo satoru’s been away for work for half a month now, and it’s made him wonder if you even tried touching yourself.
you innocently greet him at the door of your apartment, jumping onto him as he latches his bag onto the floor and hugs you back, his scent still there so strongly and he thinks the same about yours on your smooth skin. gojo knows you’ve worked extra hard on your appearance tonight, cute flowery thin silk dress, and you never wear this cologne he’s bought you, because you thought it was too sensual . . . and he takes notice of that. once he puts you on the floor, he admires your pretty face beaming at him with chuckles, looking up at him adorably as your height and size differences give you that gap.
“i missed you.” you giggle endlessly, holding onto his hands and swinging side to side, cheeks flushed. that brings him a smug smirk on his face that turns into a full gorgeous grin on his handsome face.
“i know you did, baby, i missed you too.” he replies softly, and his eyes take a peek at the round cleavage of that sundress you’re wearing, and his cock is already hard through his pants. why’d it have to be spring? “i’m gonna take a shower, wait for me?” he asks, tilting his head to the side slightly, luring you into his trap perfectly, with that honeyed voice and a caress on your head, restraining himself from jumping into you. your eyes gleam and nod as he leaves you with a small chuckle and goes on to the bathroom. your hands hold your cheeks to find them warm from blushing when he’s not looking.
you lie down in the bed, on your belly, ass up, sundress cleavage showing your tits, and on your phone until gojo walks out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, drying his hair with another smaller fabric. he walks towards you like this, something he’s never done before, and he stands in front of your face, making you look up and gulp down hard once you notice him like this.
“a-are you done? uh, wanna eat something?” you ask gently, blushing and seating upright on your knees. he throws the towel from his hair on the chair and reaches for your hand.
“hm, i do actually.” he replies pulling you by the wrist closer carefully, and he’s looking down on you with a soft almost predatory expression.
“i can make something, or order if you’d—
“baby,” he interrupts you, and you hum back slowly and shyly, doe eyes at him. “can i be rougher with you today?” and once he asks that, it takes you a few seconds to think. he notices the exact instant you understand what he meant, because your pupils dilate, your breath hitches and your cheeks flush darker, again.
“u-uh, d-do you, uh, do you mean like . . .” you stutter, becoming a mess just by his words.
“yeah, princess, like that.” gojo chuckles at your response, leaning down and kissing the right corner of your lips. “i’ve been dying to fuck you, you know.” once he says that with a whisper, your pussy clenches unconsciously, and you hum, closing your eyes and grabbing onto his wrist as his thumb’s pressing down against the skin on your inner thigh. “is that a yes?” you breathe out heavily, receiving his kisses on your face and jawline. “i’m not gonna hurt you, you know that.” he adds, his fingertips brushing their way inside your thin fabric dress covering your upper thighs, and this feeling burns.
“okay.” you moan out lowly and vulnerably — because you didn’t know exactly what he was thinking of, what that really meant, and you were curious — and his cock’s harder than ever once he looks at you with eyes still closed just taking in his pecks onto your skin, biting down your lower lip trembling. gojo’s making out with you, and he’s being aggressive.
he’s missed your glossy lips — imagining how your virgin mouth would feel around his cock — he’s missed your small soft innocent hands — imagining how they’d wrap around his dick — he’s missed your soft pussy — imagining how it’d feel to fuck it raw until you pass out.
you were already soaking wet, but with the simple touch of his index finger over your nipple you’re almost cumming. gojo notices your frail breathing against him as he pushes his tongue inside your mouth, other hand messing with your clit, pinching and rubbing under the hood as your thighs squish together.
it all happened so fast and intensely that you’re laid down in princess pillow position with legs spread by his hand as gojo pumps his cock with the other, gathering slick and making a mess in your folds as he rubs the tip against you. you think it’s dirty, and it’s all unknown, but you’re liking it, you just don’t know how much.
“‘toru,” you moan his name lowly, gripping onto the sheets and pillow under your head anxiously. he looks at you with his cheeks red and panting, he’s on the edge, he’s dying to fuck you, he’s dizzy and needy, and that look he gives you could again make you cum. “the condom.” once you say that, one side of his lips curve into a devious smirk, and he’s been waiting for you to ask for that.
“can’t i do it raw tonight, baby?” oh. your body responds to him, and you’re blushing harder and harder and you don’t know what you’re feeling. “you said i could be rough, remember? it’s gonna feel really good, i promise, so good.” he promotes, caressing your thigh as he rubs the pre-cum covered tip against your clit now. “can i make you feel good, my princess?” you let out a breath and look away. “f-fine,” you gather the courage to look back at his eyes. “i-if it’s gonna make you feel good too.” aw, that’s so innocent.
you shouldn’t have said that.
because now, he’s bullying your cunt over and over again, he’s got your knuckles turning white from gripping onto the sheets, a stiff neck from throwing it back against the pillow and sore legs from the weight he’s putting over you as gojo pushes you into a mate press. he’s going so deep, deeper than ever, he’s going so rough, rougher than ever, he’s being so loud, louder than ever, he’s being so dirty, dirtier than ever. the wrap and clenching around his cock is incessant and he’s dying over there, blabbering all sorts of dirty stuff to your chaste ears, and you’re becoming a mush under him, brainwashed. your hand uselessly trying to push his piston hips away as tears begin to stream your face, it’s too much and it’s too good for you.
“o-oh, fuck, fuck, baby,” gojo groans looking at your state. “you like it, don’t you, princess?” he’s been going on and on talking and asking the filthiest things for the past minutes — and you’ve came twice in such a short amount of time, he knows you did, you don’t — and you’re going insane from the tip of his dick kissing your cervix and the sloppy pace he’s set. you’re unable to answer but whine and moan dirtier than you’ve ever done, and you’re still restraining yourself, unable to even look at him from embarrassment. he leans down to keep fucking into you deeper while folding you in half at the same time. gojo frees one of his hands and pulls your chin to stare at him, and the way your eyebrows knit and the tears stream down your pretty cheeks turn him on tremendously. “talk to me, baby.” he whispers, groaning as he slows down and focus on pounding hardly.
“f-feels weird, ‘t-toru.” you moan out shakingly, trying to open your eyes but they threaten to keep closing due to the immense pleasure, and gojo tilts his hips up slightly and one more thrust hits a spot that you yell out, your toes curl and eyes roll to the back of your head.
“you’re being so dirty, baby.” he smirks, knowing he’s found your g-spot again, but in a better angle. gojo’s been trying to only please you with your clit the last times you’ve had sex, because he knew you weren’t going to be able to endure him using this one spot against you. “just let it go, ‘kay? it’ll feel so good, i promise.” and you look at him, breathing heavily as he continues to bully that spongy spot, your mouth turning into an open circle as you fail to breathe. gojo picks up the pace suddenly as he grabs both your legs again, he’s close, he’s so fucking close.
“i’m gonna cum in you, okay?” his words don’t even process into your head, as you want to kiss him, pulling gojo by the shoulders and neck, yet he doesn’t give in to you yet. “look at me and answer.” he’s demanding, and you’re aroused by that, your dizzy eyes look up at him. “i’m gonna fuck my cum in you,“ he’s talking so dirty it feels wrong, but your panting is only feeding him. “wanna be pregnant with my cum, baby?” your eyebrows furrow and you moan at the thought, it was an unconscious reaction, yet gojo now knew that you were done for as you squirted against his cock, failing to mute your moans as you bit your lip, and it was an intense orgasm. “i do.” you whine in the middle, and gojo has to throw his head back and chuckle at you, he’s got hearts in his eyes.
that alone makes him groan and cum inside you with another pound, and at this point, with how much you’re clenching him, you’re milking gojo dry quite literally. gojo thrusts without pulling out, he wants it all the way inside your cervix. “shouldn’t have said that, baby.” he whispers as his eyes latch down onto where you both connect.
you shouldn’t, you really really shouldn’t.
“ngh… fuc—fuck, you like my cum, don’t you, pretty girl?”, “knew you wanted me to cum in you, princess.”, “you’re such a dirty cumslut.”, “i’m gonna cum again, this time you’ll get pregnant, for sure, i swear.” you shouldn’t have said that because now gojo’s in the third round, and your pussy’s burning, destroyed and stretched out, filled with cum and it’s like your belly’s expanding at how much he’s came inside you, going in for another and more.
gojo knew he was a pervert, and he knew he was going to make a mess out of you, make you his little pretty innocent toy.
“holy fuck, princess, it’s all into your womb now, i’m sure!”
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nootshell · 1 year
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Happy together
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cattoru · 14 days
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hijinkiewinkies · 7 hours
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wahoo!
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onlylowercase · 5 months
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au where suguru just keeps chilling with Satoru
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yunymphs · 27 days
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𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔... didn't think he'd be doubled over clutching his crotch today.
you're busy today, running errands and taking some time for yourself from your daughter— your sweet pumpkin. gojo agrees, you've been pushing yourself too hard lately and if anyone deserved a break from the world and from being, what he deems as the best mother to exist, it was you.
not long ago he kissed you goodbye, pink plump cheeks pressing an annoying wet kiss to your soft cheek before waving you off.
it was just him and his baby girl today, and he was confident that he could at least keep your daughter occupied for a few hours until you get back.
it couldn't be hard right? after all, he was an impeccable father.
all was going well.
lunch went well; pumpkin ate all of her food. playtime went well; pumpkin was very happy.
gojo feels pretty good at this point and also pretty tired. keeping up with his daughter's antics today has been easy. keep her fed and entertained and it'll all go fine, is what you told your husband before you left.
"dada!" his baby girl wobbles to her feet, walking to where her father sits on her squishy pink playmat. he's sitting with his legs criss crossed, hands on the mat as he waits for her to return with a toy.
"yes, pumpkin? what is it?" gojo replies patiently.
"i have a toy for you!" she giggles, offering it to him.
before he can grab it, his clumsy daughter drops it— and it lands, right on his crotch. a heavy wooden toy train slamming right onto his clothed crotch with the very force of gravity.
"oh, fu—" gojo grunts, immediately curling into himself and shutting his eyes in pain. "oh, god."
pumpkin stares at him in confusion.
if gojo thinks too hard, his eyes will start watering. he swears he'll never have kids again... not by choice, but simply because the toy train might've taken away his ability to impregnant you again. he takes a heavy breath in, groaning.
"dada!" pumpkin wails, deeply afraid of what just happened. she's never seen him in such pain before. her eyes immediately water with fat tears, cascading down her little chubby cheeks.
"oh, sweetheart. don't cry." your husband says, breath labored still from the hit he just took. he sits up to the best of his ability, taking his toddler into his arms.
"dada, hurt?"
"a little... it was just an accident, pumpkin." gojo frowns, gently combing her little white cowlick. "just an accident. i'm fine, see?"
she breathes shakily. the sight of her father in pain nearly scared the daylights out of the poor girl. gojo continues petting her little snowy curls, sighing into her scalp. she smells like vanilla and baby powder.
"i'm sowwy..." she babbles.
"it's okay, it's okay. shhh." gojo shushes her.
despite the fatal blow he just took, nothing could possibly make him angry— especially considering it was just his baby who hurt him. gojo gives the toy train a gentle kick, turning the weapon away with a socked foot.
the doorbell rings.
"mama?!" pumpkin squeals, hopping off of gojo's lap immediately and running to the door.
the white-haired man follows, groaning as he stands. he follows behind his daughter, limping in pain.
it'll be a funny story, he thinks.
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kenm4vhs · 4 months
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the parallels i just can’t anymore ✋🏻😭
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ib: @/vantaeprod on tt
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starlightoru-gojo · 6 months
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Your smile will always be my favorite. I love you.
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