『03』 ブルーロック: Blue Lock Recs

I am gonna be studying medicine in near future and this is one of those posts that make me happy to be on tumblr. I am definitely gonna remember this rebound test concept and share it as well 🙌

When I was 17 my appendix ruptured because I thought I was just having period cramps and didn’t go to the hospital so don’t tell me PMS symptoms are no big deal

Thank you so much for these links!! ❤

the (almost) complete Bungou Stray Dogs reading list

as a dostoyevsky fan i first discovered bsd by being very confused whenever i saw pretty anime boys in the crime and punishment tag, so now i’m using bsd to discover more classic literature, and you can too!

this is my personal list straight from my phone notes app, of the most significant works mentioned in the series. italized titles are those that i really couldn’t find an english translation of but they’re there for completeness (if you’ve found one please comment!)

i’ve also got links to the french text of all works that are originally in french, because i read french and as said this list is just adapted from my personal notes hahaha

special shoutout goes to @bsd-bibliophile and their website from where i got many of the links, especially the works of the japanese authors, as well as the bsd recommended reading list ❤️

links are pdfs unless otherwise specified

the armed detective agency:

no longer human by dazai osamu

the moon over the mountain by nakajima atsushi (beast beneath the moonlight)

an encouragement of learning by fukuzawa yukichi (all men are equal)

o brother, you must not die by yosano akiko (thou shalt not die)

kunikida doppo’s works

the makioka sisters by tanizaki junichirou (light snow) [epub]

naomi by tanizaki junichirou

be not defeated by the rain by miyazawa kenji [online]

demon pond by izumi kyouka (demon snow)

edogawa ranpo’s works

i am a cat by natsume souseki

futon by tayama katai

the port mafia:

rashoumon by akutagawa ryuunosuke (link includes o-gin that akutagawa gin is based on)

this soiled sorrow by nakahara chuuya (upon the tainted sorrow) [online]

golden demon by ozaki kouyou

falling camellia by hirotsu ryuurou

the dancing girl by mori ougai (elise)

vita sexualis by mori ougai [epub]

higuchi ichiyou’s works (no ability specified yet, but see for example encounters on a dark night)

midwinter memento by tachihara michizou

lemon by kajii motojirou

dogra magra by yumeno kyuusaku [website, incomplete translation] 

madness of george III by alan bennett (madness of the jewel king) pretty sure this one’s still copyrighted, hence why they couldn’t use alan bennett’s name for ace, and why i can’t find any pdf copies

the guild:

the great gatsby by f. scott fitzgerald (the great fitzgerald)

little women by louisa m. alcott

the grapes of wrath by john steinbeck [online/pdf/epub]

the scarlet letter by nathaniel hawthorne

gone with the wind by margaret mitchell [online/pdf/epub]

anne of green gables by l. m. montgomery (anne of the abyssal red)

moby dick by herman melville

the adventures of tom sawyer by mark twain (huck finn and tom sawyer)

the adventures of huckleberry finn by mark twain (huck finn and tom sawyer)

the black cat by edgar allan poe (the black cat in the rue morgue) [online]

the murders in the rue morgue by edgar allan poe (the black cat in the rue morgue) [online]

the call of cthulhu by h. p. lovecraft (the great old ones) [online]

the rats in the house of the dead:

the house of the dead by fyodor dostoevsky [online/epub]

crime and punishment by fyodor dostoevsky

a feast in time of plague by alexander pushkin [online/pdf/epub]

the precipice by ivan goncharov (this is an abridged translation please buy the new 2020 unabridged translation titled malinovka heights please it’s one of my all-time favourite books please thank you for your attention)

the perfect crime by oguri mushitarou

the decay of angels:

the decay of the angel by mishima yukio [online]

the overcoat by nikolai gogol

dracula by bram stoker [online/pdf/epub] (bram’s ability isn’t named yet but come on who are we kidding)

sigma has been speculated to be a reference to russian writer and journalist sergey nikolayevich syromyatnikov, or possibly sigmund freud

the hunting dogs:

mirror lion by fukuchi ouchi (online summary)

gasp of the soul by ookura teruko (see bewitching shadow which is the only work of anyone from the hunting dogs with full english translation!)

priceless tears by jouno saigiku

plum blossoms in snow by suehiro tetchou (wikipedia)

special division for unusual powers:

discourse on decadence by sakaguchi ango

hail in the begging bowl [online/pdf] (an essay by james abrams on the life and poetry of taneda santoka, from which the ability name is derived)

order of the clock tower:

and then there were none by agatha christie

dark era:

strait is the gate by andré gide (french original, online)

flawless by oda sakunosuke (see his other works from the stories of osaka life collection that has been translated into english, which can be found on the @bsd-bibliophile website)

55 minutes:

the time machine by h. g. wells

the mysterious island by jules verne (french original, online/epub)

matasaburou of the wind by miyazawa kenji [online] (atsushi’s alias)

johann wolfgang von goethe (mentioned)

william shakespeare (mentioned)

victor hugo (mentioned) les misérables french original 

fifteen + storm bringer:

illuminations by arthur rimbaud [online] (french original, online/epub)

paul verlaine’s poetry [online/epub] (french original, online/epub)

frankenstein by mary shelley (adam frankenstein)

gaiden:

another by ayatsuji yukito (volume 1, volume 2, volume 3)

the summer in the ubume by kyougoku natsuhiko (an inherent drop)

yesterday’s shadow tag by tsujimura mizuki

dead apple:

shibusawa tatsuhiko’s works (referred to collectively as draconia, see fish scales which has been translated into english)

chapter titles and other references:

franz kafka’s works (our man asagiri) metamorphosis [online/epub] the trial [online/epub]

the setting sun by osamu dazai (have you seen all those dazai sunset scenes in the anime)

the black lizard by hirotsu ryuurou

the case of murder on D hill by edogawa ranpo (murder on D street, ch 6)

poems of days past by nakahara chuuya (back in the day, ch 11) see poem collection

light, wind and dreams by nakajima atsushi (even if my head be mistaken, ch 29)

if you’re gonna read the above you should probably be acquainted with robert louis stevenson’s works, like the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde [online/epub]

tower of silence by mori ougai (the silent tower and the raven’s feast, ch 30)

husband and wife by nakajima atsushi (cherrirs, ch 43)

dreaming of butterflies by hagiwara sakutarou (ch 65-66)

the sheep song by nakahara chuuya (the chant to activate chuuya’s corruption)

les sœurs de charité by arthur rimbaud (the chant to activate verlaine’s corruption) french original

this is all the main works i could find, but naturally bsd is chock-full of literature references so please feel free to add to this list if you have anything! again i have to direct you to bsd-bibliophile’s online library for more complete resources and relevant authors that are not directly mentioned in bsd + a bunch of other useful content, i swear that page is one of my most-visited websites hahaha

other great resources for free books that have entered the public domain, where i got most of the links to the western books on this list:

project gutenberg

free editorial

planet ebook

planet publish

happy reading!

YOU'RE A FREAK LIKE ME ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

summary. your rich, older brother drops you off for your first day of college—but he doesn't leave without giving you a pep talk about boys first. | wc. 3.8k+

cw/ tw. dark content (when I say the dove is not dead but it's on life support), dubcon, naive reader, jealousy, possessive behavior, stepcest, corruption kink, pet names (ex. baby), daddy kink, age gap (reader is 19, gojo is 27), intended for 18+ readers

pairing. gojo x fem!reader

an. hello! me again because I guess I can't stay away, heh. I hope you've all been doing well, though :3 reblogs are appreciated!

You’re ten when Satoru comes into your life as your new older brother. An Ivy League sweater and soda-stained jeans hanging off of his tall, lanky frame, his face twisted into a scowl because he’d tripped over one of your Mary Janes you’d left in the middle of the entryway.

It takes several years for the looks of mild disdain to turn into him kissing your scraped palms when you try rollerblading for the first time. Another few years and he's taking you and your friends for a ride in the new sports car he gets when he graduates from business school. Slowly, you form what some might call a weird relationship—a quasi-parent in regards to yours never being around—closer in some ways that would make other siblings look twice. 

“We’re all we’ll ever need,” he’d told you after your stepfather steadily fell out of the picture and when your mother never returned from the grocery store, “just you and me.”

A promise. One you know he intends to keep.

Your brother—stepbrother, he likes to remind you as if it makes a difference—always ensures you’re taken care of. Stocks the freezer with your favorite ice lollies, gets you whatever shiny thing catches your eye, and decorates the spare room in his house for you. It’s nice laying in a big bed that’s all your own, safe and warm under a mountain of soft blankets—no limit to the lengths he’d go to make you happy.

You should feel so lucky to have ended up with such an amazing brother, and you do.

There's just one rule (because, of course, there is) that he holds over your head: no boys.

The air in Satoru’s car is tense, and you tap your fingers against your leg to the music quietly pouring through the speakers to alleviate some of the tension. It’s been like this since you told him you wanted to live in the dorms, have new life experiences, and do adult things he won’t let you do.

That last one didn’t go over well.

His long days at the office have been your only saving grace from his sour mood, or else he’s pouting and stomping around the house, clearly unhappy but unwilling to break whatever thin layer of peace is left. 

For most of the drive, you keep your gaze averted through the passenger window. It's not until the last several blocks stretch from campus that he finally speaks up. 

"You could've stayed with me, you know.”

“I’m an adult now, Toru.”

“And?” 

You nearly forget how stubborn Satoru can be when he doesn’t get his way. 

"Wouldn't living with my stepbrother take the fun of experiencing my freshman year?” you argue weakly, with your tongue petulantly poking your cheek. 

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue with a small sigh. “You also forget you'd have to drive me to classes." Because even though you’re trying to make the case of being a big girl, you’re still not ready to get your license.

"It's not that great, trust me," he tells you for the nth time since you brought up moving out. "And I wouldn't mind, kiddo. I've been doing it for how many years now?"

“But don’t you get tired of chaperoning me everywhere? Plus, what if you bring girls over? They'd be turned off by your little sister still hanging around." You ignore the little niggling ache that sprouts in your chest at the thought of Satoru being with someone.

"You wouldn't have to worry about that. Girls, I mean.” He says the words slowly as if it was stupid of you to suggest that his sex life could possibly benefit from having the house to himself, and again, that feeling grows tenfold.

But if you really think about it, you can’t recall the last time he attempted to date. Maybe back when he was still an undergrad in business school? Either way, you drop the subject because he’ll continue pressing the issue until he’s blue in the face. 

You give a little hum when the campus comes into view, your mouth spreading into a smile when you glance at him. 

And for a split moment, you’re reminded of how handsome he looks in his sunglasses and the neatly pressed bespoke suit you convinced him to buy for his birthday last year. His long fingers impatiently tap along the shiny steering wheel while he waits for the stoplight to turn green. It’s almost hard to ignore how your stomach flips pleasantly (it always is) when you catch him in moments like these. 

It’s another feeling you bury underneath years of calling him your brother—because it’d be dirty to think of him any other way.

“Well, we’re here,” you manage, throat tight all of a sudden. “There’s no turning back now.”

He leans over and places a large hand on your exposed thigh—a gesture meant to be comforting, you’re sure, but it does nothing more than make you squirm in your seat with how close his pinky is to the edge of your skirt. 

Satoru squeezes your thigh. “We can always turn around and go back home.” 

“But then you’d be late for work.”

“Baby, I’m the boss. I can be late every once in a while.”

Whatever retort you had ready fizzles into white noise the moment he uttered the word baby. 

He hasn’t called you that since he used to tease you for being a crybaby. Now, though, it feels different. Sounds different.

“Just say the word,” he continues, oblivious to the unsisterly thoughts that have taken over inside your head, “and we’ll stop by at that little sweets shop you like on our way home.”

The more he brings it up, the more you’re tempted to say yes , to tell him that you already prefer your soft bed over the standard (and most likely hard and well-used) one in your dorm. How you’ll miss his too-large breakfasts for two people and cuddling on the couch in your softest pajamas with your favorite shows playing on the TV—and you feel that he knows this, too.

But you also want to prove to him (or yourself) that you can live independently for a year.

“I’ll be fine, Toru. I’m a big girl, remember?”

You’re practically clinging to him from excitement (or maybe it's nerves) as you scope the residence halls packed with students and their families.

Satoru insists on carrying most of your luggage, even though you tell him you can take it yourself. But he laughs at you struggling to lift the bag full of shoes before he plucks it from your hands and throws it over his shoulder with the other two bags like they weigh nothing. 

It takes thirty minutes of wandering around the campus to realize you’re lost, regretting never showing up for orientation in favor of staying at home with Satoru because you’re positive you walked past the Fine Arts building twice. 

Luckily, help comes from a cute boy with pink hair sitting at a long plastic table, stacks of paper neatly piled on top, and you finally stop to ask for directions.

His smile is a mile wide when he notices you—a contagious thing that has you shyly smiling back. You quickly disentangle yourself from Satoru so as not to seem lame in front of the boy for hanging onto your older brother. "Hi, I'm Yuuji," he says cheerily. “How can I help you?”

“I can’t find my dorm.” You’re almost embarrassed with how timid you sound. 

When you give him your building and room number, Yuuji shuffles through the papers on the table. Then he says your name, pointing at a column marked with a yellow highlighter. 

You feel your face grow warm at the little smile he gives you, playing with the tiny S pendant on the gold necklace Satoru gifted you as a graduation present. "Uh, yeah, that's me."

“You just have to take the first left past this courtyard, and it’ll be the building at the very end on the right.” He hands you a map of the area—not before underlining the part that’s your dorm.

“Thanks,” you tell him sheepishly, grabbing the paper from him.

Yuuji gives you another bright smile, head tilting to the side. "I can swing by when my shift ends in forty minutes and show you around if you want?"

You don’t miss the little once-over Yuuji gives you, making you subconsciously tug at your tennis skirt. You’d only picked it out knowing how hot it’d be; now, you are all too aware of how much skin you have on display. Satoru takes that moment to make his presence known behind you by tossing an arm around your shoulders and glaring down at Yuuji, who slightly shrinks back in his chair. 

"Uh, sure, thank you," you say quickly, turning away to avoid Satoru embarrassing you further before following Yuuji's directions.

After the little exchange with Yuuji, Satoru stays quiet instead of returning to his montage of making terrible points about why living on campus is the worst idea you’ve ever had, his expression unreadable, stony even, until you open the door to your dorm.

You spin in a circle with your arms spread out. "Look how big it is, Toru!" 

He doesn't say anything, and when you look over, his lips are pressed into a thin line as he closes the door and locks it. You assume he’s probably tired from the drive, thinking about work, the suit still sitting at the cleaners— 

Those thoughts shatter into tiny pieces at your feet once he sits on your bare mattress and crooks a finger. 

“Baby, come here.”

There he goes with that nickname again, your stomach flipping without your say-so.

It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking with his glasses still covering his face, and you huff. 

“Toru—”

“I said, come here.” Something in his voice makes you hesitant to disobey. You want to please him. You like it when he’s proud of you, and unlike the months before spent arguing over nonsensical things, you care that he might actually be upset right now—because it’s not often that he’s upset with you.

Satoru watches you with an even stare as you move on shaky legs to stand between his. You’re about to open your mouth to ask him what his problem is, but his fingers grip your jaw, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to bring your face forward.

“It wasn’t very nice of you to ignore me back there. Are you embarrassed of your brother?”

A shudder runs through you at the feel of his minty breath fanning over your lips. He’s too close for you to think clearly. 

You shake your head. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Sorry, she says.”

His brows knit together as he mimics the little nod you give. “So you’re not going to let that boy in here? He’s not going to touch what’s mine, right?”

His?  

None of the questions you should ask make it to the surface as you wonder about this new development—being his —how you’ve maybe always known but too scared to put it into words.

The hotsweetwrong feeling of his name on your tongue at night while you have your hand underneath the elastic of your sleep shorts is your own terrible secret, and the one time you smothered the word Daddy into your pillow (because you've long since weighed the idea of him filling the place of Daddy and brother) and you couldn’t look him in the eye for three days straight afterward. 

One thought layers over the other, and you part your lips to take in more air in hopes of parsing them out but dominating them all—

“Toru,” you whisper.

“Go on,” he nudges, ever patient. “Don’t be a brat. Answer me.”

“No.” It’s an effort to form a proper sentence, every syllable lodged in the back of your throat. “No, he won’t.”

“Oh, baby,” he says, low and patronizing. He clicks his tongue, head cocking to the side. “I think you’re lying.”

Part of you doesn’t know what to say or how to react. Satoru has never talked to you this way or held you in a way that a brother shouldn’t. You can feel him through your skirt, where one of his large hands keeps you planted between his legs, and the callouses on his fingers are so rough against the soft skin of your cheeks. 

Sure, you’ve thought of this before when you couldn’t sleep. But that’s all they were, thoughts, small fantasies to help take the edge off on muggy summer afternoons and restless nights—shameless secrets you kept to yourself in the safety of your soft sheets.

This, however, cracks the glass boundary that should never be crossed between family. Even if Satoru isn’t the blood of your blood and his hands stay high above your waist, his lips not quite touching yours. One slight head tilt could change that.

You cling to this small amount of reason and hope to find the same amount of conflict etched into the curve of his mouth, in the crease on his forehead, or in the hard set of his eyes; there’s none, just raw want.

Your bottom lip starts to wobble before you can stop it. You’re not upset as much as you are overwhelmed. “Toru, why are you being so mean?”

“Because you’re mine, baby.” The pad of his thumb smooths over your cheek. “And I have to get that through your pretty little head.” 

Then he brings your mouth down to his, licking away the little squeak that falls from your lips. His teeth catch your bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth and kissing you in the heart-stopping way you usually see in movies. 

There’s another soft sound that escapes your throat when he pulls you into his lap, your thighs falling on either side of him, barely balanced by your hands on his broad shoulders. His fingers pull apart the tiny buttons on your blouse until it’s falling open to the sides to reveal your baby pink lacey bralette. 

“Cute,” he mumbles against the curve of your jaw, and you wonder if he’s also thinking about the time he went with you to buy it. 

You whine when his fingers find your nipples through the sheer material, rolling them between deft fingers until they’re flushed and sensitive to the touch. “Daddy!”

It takes you a full moment to realize what you’ve done: how it easily slipped between your teeth in a way it shouldn’t have, just from a few simple touches—not that you could have helped it. Regardless, you feel heat crawl up your neck and his thumb hooking under your chin.

“Say that,” he rasps, jaw clenched, “again.”

And when he drags your hips down against the prominent bulge in his neatly pressed pants, you’re sure the sound of you moaning the word Daddy is loud enough to be heard past the door.

“Fuck,” he breathes, gaze tilting down to where your bodies meet. He pulls you closer, bucking his hips against yours and, this time, bumping into your clit.

“Right there, right there.”

He glances up at you, mouth tilted up ever so slightly. “Yeah? Does that feel good?”

You nod vigorously, tears that had been clumping in your lashes finally falling. 

Satoru thumbs them away. “I bet you’re wet, baby. Just from me playing with these pretty tits, huh?”

You’re positive he can feel the wet heat leaking through your underwear, staining his suit. And you can’t say anything other than whimper in embarrassment. 

“Poor thing,” he croons. “How about I make it better, okay?” 

He brings a hand down between you, and it feels like a little shock runs through you at the feel of him running a finger over the damp fabric of your panties under your skirt—easily finding the pulsing little bundle of nerves there. 

“O-oh,” you gasp. Your hands tighten around his shoulders, nails biting into the expensive material of his jacket. “M-more, please.”

“So polite. You like it when Daddy rubs your little clit?” he hums, tongue swiping across your shuddering flesh. “Can you handle more if I give it to you?”

At the first shake of your head, he’s sliding your panties down, helping you sit up on trembling legs until the delicate fabric drops to the floor. 

“Look at you,” he runs a thumb through your wet slit, spreading your puffy lips and smearing the slick that's gathered there with imprecise little circles. “All soft and wet. You’re so good when your Daddy plays with you, huh?”

You’re too focused on his finger tracing up to your clit and down to your entrance to answer—shocked at how different Satoru’s fingers feel from your smaller ones. How they bring goosebumps to your skin and make your back arch, how no boy has ever touched you like this—not that your brother has ever really given them a chance to try. 

There’s a mix of shame and something else in your gut that the one making you feel this way isn’t just any boy. The problem is that you want this with someone you shouldn’t, and you’re sure no one can give it to you the way he can.

The moment his finger finally sinks inside you to the first knuckle, you jolt in his lap with a choked moan. “Daddy.”

He starts to pump his finger in and out of you, sucking a spot into the underside of your jaw that’s meant to mark. “There you go, baby,” he kisses over it, adding his middle finger to join the first.

They’re easily thicker than your own—two of them feeling like three—touching a soft patch deep inside you that has you squealing and squirming on his lap. Your shaky breaths and the sound of Satoru fingering your cunt fills your room, and you’d be embarrassed if not for the fluttering in your stomach.

And just as you’re about to ask him to make you cum, his fingers slip out of you.

“Not yet,” he says with a smirk.

The whine dies in your throat while watching him unbuckle his belt and tug down his pants to reveal a cock that belongs in porn. It’s thick and long, twitching and leaking from the purpling head. There’s no way it will fit, and you don’t realize you said this aloud until Satoru chuckles.

“It will trust me.” 

You cry out when he presses the velvet tip against your clit, until he drags it down, parting you open over and over again to coat himself in the mess between your legs. Then he holds himself at your entrance.

“Go on,” Satoru groans at the feel of your dripping cunt fluttering against him, teeth gritted, and pulse jumping in his neck. “Slide down on it.”

Gnawing on your lip, you try, you really do, but you feel like he’s stretching you to your limit, splitting you in two just from the tip pressing into you alone. Shaky arms and thighs burning to keep you from sinking too fast on his cock.

Your breath sticks in your throat as you slide up his thick length, and then it comes out in one large exhale as you stretch yourself down on him again.

“I-I can’t,” you whimper, huffing. “S’too big.”

“What would those guys say if they knew you didn’t know how to take cock, huh?” he teases, but there’s an edge to his words that swarm your stomach with butterflies and make your eyes well up in humiliation. “Trying to be a big girl, yet you can’t even do this.”

“I’m trying,” you hiccup, wiggling your hips and gasping when he slips in another half-inch.

He grips your hips in large hands, “Here, lemme help. Hold still...Fuck. Fuck—there you go, baby.”

Your eyes roll back when he presses into the hilt, and you can do nothing more than hold on as he starts to bounce you onto his fat cock—working you open until you’re just a pulsing thing for him to use. You clench down hard around him on a particular thrust that makes you see white dots, and Satoru twitches inside you with a feral groan.

"God, baby, look at you," he growls, sucking another mark into your right breast. “So fuckin’ filthy for letting me ruin you like this, letting me stretch this pussy until it’s only fit for me.”

You sob a garbled series of yesyesyes and DaddyDaddyDaddy.

A knock on the door jolts you out of your haze, but he only holds you against him tighter as you try to squirm away—the grip on your hips almost bruising. And his thrusts turn rough and quick at the mere fact that the person on the other side can hear him ruining you for anybody else.

“I’m not stopping until you cream on my cock. I want them to hear how good your Daddy makes you feel.”

Then he reaches down to thumb at your clit and—

You break.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, hands clawing at his back, you release a moan that rings in your ears. Satoru fucks you through the wave cresting in your belly while you shake in his arms, telling you how good you are against your ear until he cums, too, hot and thick inside you. 

And again, you’re reminded of how handsome he is as his jaw falls slack and white strands of hair messily fall onto his forehead.

After a moment, his lips trail kisses from the tops of your breasts to the hollow of your throat, rasping, “This is my pussy. Nobody else gets to touch it. You understand?”

Tired but sated, you nod.

He helps you straighten your skirt and button your shirt, kissing your forehead as he stuffs your ruined underwear into the pocket inside his jacket.

A sniffle, his big hand smoothing the hairs away from your face just as you slowly drift through the vast sea of fucked-out bliss and back to your body. “Toru…take me home.”

The smile that slowly splits across his face gives you the smallest inkling that he'd planned for this to happen all along. You were just slow to catch up.

"Stay here. I'll go move the car," he says as he leaves your dorm with the same bags he carried there and his cum still dripping down the inside of your thighs, smirking at the blushing boy with pink hair who still has his hand raised to knock on your door.

...and Yuuji remained there, confused and horny. Thank you for reading:3 I hope you have a lovely day!

Hibernation would fix me

s&c professor!gojo aesthetics

reblog this if your icon could kill a man

satoru often puts his infinity up when he's mad at you― even over the smallest, most minor and extraneous things, he will go as far as avoiding your physical advances at any cost just because he didn't like something you did.

verbal communication is long out the window now.

you want to put your small frame against his back in a tight and loving embrace? not on his watch.

you want to smother his face in apologetic kisses until you have him a giggling mess? uhm?! no!!!, he'd think.

it takes a lot of convincing until you squeeze your way past it, and more often than not, he falls for your teasing like an oblivious little puppy.

satoru gojo might be the strongest, but not when it comes to you.

"hey babe, you have some mustard around your mouth" you say sweetly, as you reach a hand out with a napkin and dap around the corners of his lips.

satoru gives you this vacant look, no thoughts evident inside that head of his as he allows you to gently rub the mess away, hot dog just inches away from his face. you smile brightly at him while doing so and then realisation finally hits him as your other hand squeezes one of his thighs.

he shifts his head away from you in a barefaced manner, eyebrows angling on his forehead and eyes fluttering shut. he lets out a huff before your palm on his thigh is no longer touching him and instead, flat against his infinity field.

you roll your eyes and chuckle, "if you're still gonna be moody about earlier and not let me touch you, at least have some manners while you eat."

"this isn't about earlier"

he'd say something along those lines after every single time you bring it up to him thereafter.

that was one of the occasions where you tried to slide your way under his skin, but you found that its a lot easier when he's not paying attention to you.

like now, when you go to hand him another napkin half an hour later of him stuffing his face with more bread, he just snatches it from you. in that margin of a millisecond that his infinity was down, you pull his wrist toward you and it has him collapsing into you.

"e-ehhh?! babe! i nearly got mustard in your hair-"

he doesn't notice you giving him a tight hug, head pressed firmly against his chest as he wipes some food against his sleeve from his mouth. he then carefully scrutinises the roots of your hair, just in case he didn't get anything in it.

you look up at him from where you are below in his embrace and you pout, watching his adams apple bob up and down as he swallows another portion of the hot dog.

and then you go to tickle him and he jumps away from you in a defense pose.

you laugh boisterously from this and you swear you saw a faint tint of red coating his cheeks as he goes to avoid your eye contact.

"babbyyyyy" you hear him whine with food in his mouth. he then swallows again, "new rule: don't come within ten feet of me."

"'toru?! you're so dramatic."

flailing your arms in the air now you continue, "one way or another, you're going to give in. you can't resist my touches."

he cocks an eyebrow at you, "oh, yeah?" he looks at you smirking and then rubbing his stomach, "i can't resist the taste of this hot dog. i need another one."

satoru grumbles and you throw your eyes away from him, "i'll buy you another one if you let me give you a kiss."

he looks over at you, squinting, "just one kiss?" you nod frantically, "just one, teeny, tiny, kiss."

he then puts a palm up in front of you, motioning you to pause so he can swallow the rest in his mouth. after doing so, he tilts his head to the side, rolling his eyes, and putting a finger against his cheek, tapping it repeatedly in a come hither motion.

you prance over to him, going on your tip toes and bringing your lips against the skin. you repeatedly, over and over again, kiss him, until he's falling back into the seat behind, giggling like a teenage boy and grabbing at your waist.

"okay! that's enough, princess-"

he's laughing now and you're sitting in his lap, smothering his prominent nose, the smile lines in the corners of his eyes that leave smudges against his dark shades, jawline, and eyebrows.

you then lean back, "still mad at me?" he sighs performatively, eyes focused elsewhere and he goes, "maybe a little."

although those words mean nothing when he's grabbing at your lower back and smiling.

I READ DAD BOD LEON AND LIKE JDFKD imagine praising him and getting him all flustered and needy and just 😭 he is such a hottie I NEED HIM sorry im just a lil feral abt him

GRAHHHH YES !!!!

cw: leon finally in his retirement era ??? (probably not canon but we can only hope), chubby leon, older leon, body worship, very light scent thing, a messy blowjob, he’s insecure at first the poor thing, uhhhh not proofread <3

w/c: 1.5k

like, leon is sooooo relieved when he’s (somehow) allowed to retire. genuinely probably just passes out for a good couple of days, drowsy and catching up on years of sleep he missed for a month or so. takes things day by day, waning contentedly through different hobbies, interests, just trying to like…. find his personality back after basically becoming the governments dog for the most of his adult life.

and some things really like … don’t click at first.

that he’s not nearly as active without the physically demanding day to day. the mission every other month or so that sheds him of all his bodies resources, the ones that basically force upon him that consistently low body fat percentage. sure, he still works out because at this point, it’s weird Not To after putting in so much physical work for so long.

but he’s older now, his metabolism has changed. commercial gyms don’t exactly offer the same amount of intensity that his body is so used to having to work through. and naturally, parts of him grow complacent. he eats more, rightfully so. actually has the time to go out to eat on a consistent basis, and doordash is viewed as a god sent app.

he doesn’t really notice the pounds that have crept up on him until suddenly his favorite pair of jeans doesn’t need a belt to keep them up anymore. it’s when he tucks in his shirt for a more upscale night out that he realizes his button down is more fitted against him than maybe it was the last time he dug out his nicer clothes.

but once he realizes it, he shies away from it, avoids changing in front of mirrors. and when he starts refusing to change in front of you that you notice.

sure, leon was always attractive in your eyes. but it was never the muscles, the trim ‘v’ of his waistline that kept you around. you loved him, genuinely so. and to have him around more often, able to revel in some of the domestic things you couldn’t exactly soak up when he was still an agent? it’s like heaven on earth with him.

so when you notice the slight increase in his weight — the softness that begins to pad his strong biceps when he wraps his arms around you from behind, the extra bit you’re able to hold onto when you hug him — you don’t point it out. it’s welcomed, has you touching him a bit more than maybe necessary nowadays.

the first time he abruptly turns around when you walk in while he was changing, you don’t question it. it’s when he starts to dim the lights before the two of you topple onto the bed in a passionate display that you grow suspicious. your last straw is plucked when he starts coming to bed with a shirt on. an oversized one at that. he had never worn shirts to bed before, always complained about the materials feeling against him becoming irritating throughout the night.

he tries to deny when you first confront him. plays off the way the newfound pliant skin of his sides swells out over the top of his jeans waistband. shakes his head and makes a face at you, even goes so far as to roll his eyes when you reason with him, pointing out his recent ‘preference’ of keeping the lights lower when you fuck.

“I think you’re imagining this, sweetheart. I’m still sexy,” he reasons cheekily, trying to distract you with his cheesy nature.

“I didn’t say you’re not sexy,” you sigh, shaking your head. “You’re definitely still sexy. I’m just saying you look sexy with the extra bit on you,” you hum, leaning against the bedroom door.

it takes Leon a second, trying to allow ‘sexiness’ and ‘weight’ to coexist in his head. at least not in terms of himself. he loved women, all shapes and bodies and weights included. it was a no brainer to say that yes, your logic that sexiness could coexist with more weight was correct. but on him…? he’s Leon Kennedy. he’s not fat.

“Nor am I saying you’re fat, not by a long shot,” you continue, knowing all too well what that look on his face meant. the one he wore when he was thinking too hard about something.

he tries not to flinch when your hands reach out, capturing his sides. tries to stifle the sound that wants to escape when he realizes how much more sensitive the skin there is now with the extra weight. but the pounding of his heart and heat emanating off his body tells you all you need to know. so you continue.

you’re unashamed in how you explore how pliant his sides are now, in how you trace along where the firm cut lines of his abs formerly were. gently pinching and filling your fingers with the extra skin that lies over his lower abdomen, flattening your palm over the swell there and letting it fill your palm. his breath hitches, hands twitching at his sides, itching to slide your hands off him. he yearns to step out of your grasp, but knows that’ll be too telling. so he lets you continue, let’s you have your fun.

the button of his jeans pops audibly, and it’s clear that maybe he’s gonna have to let his favorite pair go pretty soon. but that’s okay. it’s obvious how okay it is when you slide his shirt up, up, up and out of the way. when your lips finds his sternum, trailing up and down its length before moving on to his pecs. silently appreciating how they’ve swelled a bit, how the hair that scatters across his skin has seemingly spread more. you tuck your nose in, inhaling him appreciatively when you slide your fingers under the waistband of his jeans, start to shimmy the denim down.

and oh god, you’re slowly lowering yourself, letting your lips ghost over his stomach now. you’ve grown sloppier, greedier in how you lick up the salt of his skin, bite into and suck at the pliant flesh. as if a fever had overcome you.

and really, that’s not all that far fetched of an idea. it was like you were seeing him naked for the first time all over again. except he’s softer, warmer… easier to paw and play with. responsive when your hands knead at his sides, his pecs. breathless and panting when he realizes his nipples are more sensitive for some reason when you drag the pads of your thumbs over them.

he could’ve gone bright pink when you ask him to strip completely. in front of the mirror no less. but he obliges, although begrudgingly. maybe a bit more hesitantly when you roll your desk chair over in front of the floor to ceiling mirror, instructing him to sit down. but that dissolves when you settle on your knees in front of it, as if sweetening the deal.

he doesn’t expect you to be so …. eager when you finally get yours hands on him. but fuck does he look good. softened thighs spread, the perfect mix between strong and soft in front of you. his soft cock, laid oh so prettily between them, ever so full balls nestled there. you really can’t help how quickly you find yourself burying your face into him, breathing him in and mouthing at his thighs.

your hands are greedy, so very greedy in how you grab at him. his thighs, the stomach that’s started to rest on them. his pecs you reach up to paw at when you realize they’ve started to create a crease between his chest and his stomach from below.

and at first, he doesn’t believe you when you tell him he looks even better like this. that if anything, you prefer him like this. doesn’t want to hear it when you try to coax him into repeating affirmations about himself, keeps his eyes off his reflection in the mirror.

but of course, he’s a weak man. you’re sat on your knees between his spread thighs, your ass practically begging to be ogled in those jeans.

and that’s what he focuses on at first. tries not to notice how you have to tilt your head slightly when you take him in your mouth, how you have to hold his tummy when you suck him off to keep it from inhabiting how far down you can get on his length. but as the heat in his body grows, as you get sloppier with spit dribbling down your chin, he has no choice but to look down at you.

and at that point, he can’t find it in him to care about the swell of his lower abdomen. he isn’t very worried about how much more space his thighs take up on the chair when you dip one of his balls into your mouth, licking and warming and soaking them in your feverish attempt to make him feel how sexy he is to you.

but by the time he’s coming ropes onto your pretty face, he finally gives in. finally obliges you fully and admits that maybe… maybe he was still sexy as fuck. maybe he did look better, healthier with the retirement weight on him.

i need to be in u tonite ☆

☆☆ all i want is to feel warmth. not even funny, im always cold. I want a boyfriend who'd come back behind me so warm and cozy as he plants his head on the crook of my beck from behind. I want his hands to trail upwards into my shirt- it dosent even have to be sexually! I want to feel the content sigh that comes from his lips that makes my neck tickilish as his warm hands contrast with my cold body. I want to be able to use the 'im cold' excuse so i can hold his hand whenever. I want to lay with him with me laying over his front as i smoosh my cheek onto his chest as i nuzzle impossibly closer and i wrap my arms around him as i feel the occasional scratches on my head. I want to feel his body warmth along with a few other blankets on top of me. I want to hear his 'why are you always so cold?' And him just handing me his hand as i use it to cup my cheek. I want him to be as warm as his body- an absolute sweetheart to me. 'Good job, your so smart!' 'No no...just a bit of....yes there we go, love!' 'You need help?' 'So cute....im going to eat you'. I want to feel his hands all over me in any position. From the front, to the back, to the bed, then couch and you get it. I want to feel his warm hands over my naked body as he continues fullfilling our desires together. I wanna take a warm bath with him and wash his fluffy hair :( then afterwords when were done we'll go to bed and he'll pull me in closer as he mumbles about something like how he almost tripped or something random about his day as he entangles a leg over my torso to make sure i dont escape. Im having brainrot u guyssss im tired of reader fanfiction and the reader always being warm >:( what ab us cold girlies??? I want a silly warm bf like you guys i wanna marry him hes my pookie n soulmate!! ☆☆

YES 2 HEAVEN

a/n: continuation of this. ARRRGHHH also i swear i couldve written this better i kinda hate this lol / tagging @jabamin @shotorus @hyomagiri @crysugu @valberry @lov3rbody ✶

wc: 4.1k (got carried away again ! lord help me)

warnings: dad!gojo, fem!reader, he is enamoured with you, dom!gojo, calls you ‘mama’, also like slight daddy kink, sex while pregnant, lactation kink, pregnancy kink, implied f! masturbation, oral / cunnilingus, fingering, clit stimulation, praise, pet names, spitting, mating press, multiple rounds, overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

✶ dilf!gojo . . .

. . . who, when you were pregnant, could never get enough of your glow. sure, you’d look tired and worn out half the time but gojo thought you never looked better cradling your belly whilst you took your afternoon nap, or when you’d do some light chores around the house (you won over gojo trying to stop you). not to mention, your breasts were fuller and heavier with milk, soaking through your slip dresses often that he’s had to hide his hard-on more and more.

. . . who, on more than one occasion has had your tits caged within his hand: watching television, in naps, sex, he was unbelievably obsessed with the way the fabric around your nipples would leak and darken in colour. all he wanted was to knead them as he eats up your delicious moans, sucking hickies into your throat and holding your baby bump with his other hand. and then when satoru first peels the dress off of you, he whimpers, admiring the way your tits lactate and leak milk from its tip.

“s—satoru—” you’re sat sideways on his lap like the sweet girl you are and the first contact of his tongue around your nipple makes you let out a long moan. the sensitivity is all too much for you together with the heaviness of your belly and your hormones spiking and your husband simply smiles into your skin. he slurps at the liquid that drips from your tits, groaning into your breasts and the vibrations makes you clench your thighs together. it doesn’t go unnoticed by him when he’s got his hand between them, playing lazily with your clit and he presses a little harshly into your bundle of nerves and it draws such a beautiful cry and a spurt of your milk from your nipples right into his mouth. satoru cleans up well, noises similar to when he’d eat you out, “mmh… such perfect tits, mama, leaking so much milk just f’r me.” ✶

. . . whose hands look more rugged than he was young, fingertips a certain roughness to it from the boxes of the furniture of the nursery he’s carried to the training he still partakes in for young sorcerers. but they look especially pretty when he cuts up strawberries and bananas for your pancakes and later on, a teacup that barely makes its appearance in his hand from just how large he was in comparison to your baby girl’s tea set. your eyes also like to trail his hands as they skillfully weave your girl’s hair in a braid, hypnotised in which he uses his teeth to drag the hair tie to his fingers. satoru has a different opinion — he likes to see it on your belly when he wants to feel the baby kick and on your plush thighs when he’s teasing you, so close yet so far to your uncomfortable cunt.

. . . who uses your badly shaven job against you when his lips graze along your still full breasts and down to your torso. you can feel him drag the stubble against your inner thighs and it’s like he’s relishing in the way you squirm and thrash around on the bed, but the gojo below you is the culmination of multiple years of missions and caring for a baby girl. he looks so damn stunning between your legs as he usually does, except his features are more wrinkly and lenient and gentle, white strands turning just a little silver — it may just be the trick of the light.

but the way he eats you out has never changed — he’s already gone past making you beg for it. a hand on your inner thighs, caressing the skin and letting him do his damage, but it’s usually not long that gojo needs to hear you. “i heard you like this?” he laughs as he uses his teeth to pull at your underwear as he lifts your hips like you weigh nothing and his eyes are fixated on the way you’re leaking so much that there’s a string of arousal that connects your panties to your pussy. “’toru . .” you’re whining, grasping at nothing ’cause your belly was just too big. he finds your hand easily and twines your fingers. “yeah, angel?” with your legs propped up, he can appreciate the glory of your soaking pussy, and he thinks your tummy just looks divine, carrying a whole new life within it and still looking beautiful as ever. you preen when his mouth licks a stripe up your cunt and you can practically feel the stubble along your pussy lips. “mmh— was made to eat your pussy out, mama.” it’s no different from before. gojo eats you out with his skillful tongue, lapping at your folds and clit messily. you’re squeezing his hands at the intense sensations and he squeezes right back, other hand slowly drawing circles around your clenching, needy hole.

“look at ‘er,” gojo moans softly in awe as his finger parts your folds and he eases it in, your cunt automatically clamping down. you were right — they did feel rougher, bigger — it’s like you can feel the pads of his fingers and the lines on his digits. “so damn wettt . .” gradually he adds another and starts pumping them, moaning alongside you as your filthy husband nuzzles the bottom of his face into your sex and the prickle of his facial hair is so prominent — you just have to grind your hips onto his face. “careful of the baby, darling.” he lightly warns, fairly muffled, but he lets his little wife continue whatever she’s doing. “’toru, ’toru— needa c-cum . .” you’re whimpering, looking like a greek goddess as you’re dripping, dripping, all over satoru’s chin. “yeah? give it to daddy, baby, c’mon.” he moans into your clit, slurping up your juices mercilessly as his fingers reach so deep in you. “that’s right, that’s my girl— oooh fuckk . . . so much cum for me—” you’re cumming with a loud cry, plump thighs squeezing his head and he only presses his tongue deeper into your core as flood his tongue with your juices. he smacks his lips together and shoots you a smirk, “what a sweet thing my lil wife is — sweetest pussy too.” ✶

. . . who has to fuck you at least once while you’re pregnant, but he hadn’t imagined he would get so addicted to the look of your body rocking back and forth, so limp and pliant for him, especially with how he could easily do anything to you with how strong he was and yet you’re surrending everything up to him. satoru who has you in all sorts of positions where he can look at your supple breasts bounce as you cradle the baby in anxiety with one arm and the other is lining his back in red. and he hadn’t expected you’d be so horny too.

. . . whose dick you just can’t get enough of, pouncing on him once he’s gotten home from missions all sweaty and out of breath and your heart gets caught in your throat. guiding your hand to your little cunt when you wake in the morning to his toned chest and the look of soon-to-be-father looking so good on him. sending him little voice notes as you go on appointments by yourself (gojo hates himself for having a mission clash), but the contrast of your husband’s tear-filled apology before your needy audios is a stark contrast, fingers rubbing at your clit in the hospital toilet, unsatisfied. high-pitched whines whenever his cock would kiss your cervix juuust right and moaning how you want his cum in you, again

your husband throws his head back when he first sinks into you, but not before he slaps his cock along your folds, already soaking the sheets from the four times he’s made you cum. “f—fuck, so warm in here, baby.” gojo presses your hands to his lips and lays multiple kisses along it, even licking at your fingers and keeping his eyes locked on you while plunging them into your mouth. the gesture is sensual, hips rocking into you while his tongue glides over your fingers; he brings it to your clit after, helping you and satoru hopes he wouldn’t cum too early. especially when your hair is all splayed out with that glow along your cheeks. the position accentuate the curves of your body and your swelling stomach, and fuck, if he could paint, the image of your anatomy would be burned into his brain. “s’full, daddy.” he simply caresses your sore belly, “yeah? is it now?” he’s buried all the way to the hilt and the deepness sends a chill up your spine, “takin’ me like the good girl you are.”

“satoru, satoru, mmhhfuck,” your hands are holding into his forearms so tightly as he rocks into you, legs wrapped around his waist to trap him with your pussy and you truly wish your baby bump would be bigger so you didn’t have to look at your husband’s fucked out face and sweaty locks, grunts leaving his mouth as he continues to fuck into you with firm, solid thrusts. “w-what is it, sweeth— s-shit, this pussy’s too fuckin’ good.” you mewl at the words, staring up at him through hooded lids and a lax jaw. “tell me what— fuucck— you want, baby,” your words are beyond comprehensible, so you only can moan louder and babble over and over again, “cum— wan’ your cum, wan’ your cum, ’toru!” and gojo has a full blown aneurysm at the way you beg even when you were already knocked up. gojo’s breath and hips stutter at the way you hold onto his arm and plead, cumming straight into the warmth of your cunt with a loud groan. “don’t know how much i love your cunt, sweets.” ✶

. . . who, once you give birth to your baby girl, has never stopped thirsting over you, but he’s a little more considerate in letting your body rest. most of the time he’s pleasuring you just as you were with your baby bump, always the quickest to stand up and run to the nursery when he’d hear the baby’s cries or pass off him being between your legs as just wrestling as your darling girl gets another terrible nightmare. satoru has put you first, always, but lately the chivalrous acts that he’s been doing is landing you in a position of a dilemma — between decorum of a mother and the filthiness of a wife whose husband is just too hot.

. . . who stands out to you more with his new found love for tight black shirts and low riding sweatpants, always prancing around the penthouse with it glued to his body and accentuates just the best parts of his body. you weren’t sure if it was the post pregnancy hormones doing its job or whatever, but there are many times where you can see yourself staring a little too much: on movie nights when he manspreads and adjust his hips, one hand tucked behind the sofa and you can see the muscles in his arm moving. all gojo asks is “take a picture. it’ll last longer, baby,” and you just roll your eyes, but not before one more glance to his inviting lap. when it’s the morning and you’re already up tending to the baby, bouncing her around and breastfeeding her before your head snaps to the low, raspy greeting and you’re blessed with satoru and his arm up on the doorframe, watching you. he’s yawning and scratching at his torso while the sweatpants ride low, showing a peek of his v-line and happy trail. he’s giving you the sweetest, yet somehow sexiest smile as he saunters up to you, surrounded by his toned body and strong arms.

. . . who knows what he’s doing when he sees your distracted stares to the point your baby girl has to drag your hand full of food to her mouth; or in times of sleepiness in the dawn where all he wears are boxers and he has the gift of hearing your not so quiet gasp when you see him emerge from the bathroom after his morning skincare. what really seals the deal though, is the day you had a reunion with the students of jujutsu high, a nice little picnic out near tokiwa bridge and gojo just had to show his girls off — what was meant to be a wholesome day turned into thoughts of your husband’s physique as he challenges nanami to a “carry-off”, the still stoic sorcerer not even bothering to participate as gojo swoops you both into his arms. your daughter on his right and you on his left, and you’re scrambling to grab his shoulder. it sinks into you like an anchor: just how fit he was, the lines of his tense arm, the cheeky wink he sends to you while you’re up there. you only hope he can’t feel your pussy throb from that.

“you alright, darling?” your baby’s asleep comfortably on your chest, and your eyes can only burn holes into the hand that’s resting on your thigh, swallowing before facing your husband who only seemed to get hotter the more he ages. when you turn to him he’s already looking at you, a lopsided smile on his face before he breaks eye contact and steps on the gas when the traffic light turns green, letting out a loaded exhale when you grab his hand and twine your fingers.

that two person carry has been etched onto your mind long after you’ve reached the penthouse along with everything that’s been going on, but you’re interrupted when satoru squeezes your hand, pulling you into his embrace while keeping your darling girl asleep. he’s skilled at that, as he is with his lips, pressing a deep kiss to your mouth. you can feel your stomach turn with anticipation, tasting his gloss as he whispers “should we order takeout tonight?”

you hum, “i can cook, ’toru.”

his hands feel hot on your waist, “rest today, baby. we did spend a whole day in the hot sun,” they draw circles on your lower back, “plus, we have that event tomorrow, don’t wanna tire you out.”

“the event’s at night you goof,” you laugh, a slow hand stroking your daughter’s hair. stark white and striking as always.

“still.” he grins and winks like there’s some ulterior motive, leaning in to kiss you again before your girl rouses and yawns.

“good morning, my love.” satoru coos as she finds her bearings, looking around in confusion and only being able to focus on her father’s hand on her hair.

“na-na-min?” the awkward plea in her voice would drive gojo to burn the world down, to call nanami right now to meet up again, but he knows all that would only warrant annoyance. he could call yuji, but he did mention something about having dinner with his partner tonight.

gojo feels bad to be breaking her heart like this, “no, darling, ’m sorry.” his heart breaks even more when she breaks into a slight cry and he attempts to quell her sobs by baby-talking her.

“c’mon, why don’t you let papa carry you, and mama can head off to take care of herself, hm?” he suggests with a big grin, mood changing instantly as he plucks her out of your arms, again emphasising his strong arms when they hold her on one side and curl another around you. “go clean up first. i’ll settle dinner for her.”

but the shower seemed to be a bad idea at the time, emerging from the steamy bathroom to see your husband with his shirt off and the baby already all cleaned up and fed. she was swaddled in her most comfortable blanket, the fabric of it peeping out from the side as your eyes focus on the rippling muscles of gojo’s back. he bounces the baby gently as he burps her, muttering little praises and sounds.

“oh, baby—” he catches sight of you in the doorway in a towel and he only smiles, not knowing how you were trying to digest just how broad his shoulders were and how small his waist was. had he always been so fine?

“heard about skin to skin contact with your baby,” he whispers, “says it increases our bond.”

and if you could, you’d drag him back to the chapel all over again to renew your vows, because you didn’t expect him to be such a sap. you also didn’t expect him to read you so well. the baby’s asleep and it’s well past midnight, masking yet another shaky sigh when your body sinks more into his side.

“satoru—”

“yeeess . .?” 

you stand up with vigour you didn’t think you have, plopping yourself down onto his lap and all he does is smile slyly. the way his bare body moves as he leans back is enough drive for you to shut him up.

“haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“oh? you have a crush on me?”

so infuriating as always. you roll your eyes and grind down on him, igniting such a familiar and archaic feeling that you haven’t felt in a long time: his bulge against you, the soft groan he lets out. he’s always been treating you time and time, and yet he puts his own needs on hold. a perfect husband like him waited only for you to initiate things, and yet you wonder why it took you so long. maybe it was the baby taking up most of your time, maybe it was him being on missions and coming home dead-beat tired.

maybe you knew you’d never turn back if you indulged yourself — pushing out a whole baby wasn’t exactly easy. but you’ve missed him. on you, in you.

“we’re married, you dumbass.”

“still in disbelief, my bad.” gojo laughs, “is there anything you wanna tell me?”

you sigh, pulling him to you so your foreheads would touch. you breathe onto his lips — “please take care of me.”

oh, gojo satoru did take care of you and more, burying his face between your legs and making you cum over and over. he made your voice hoarse and your thighs ache, juices soaking the sheets from just how wet you were.

“oh, you needed this, huh?”

“shut up.” gojo moans when you push him back onto your cunt, already having orgasmed thrice just from his tongue. he was skillful and he knew it, just as much as he knew just how tight you’d be when he smeared your cum all over your pussy and pushed past your folds. satoru whines at the tightness, at having missed your cunt wrapped around him for so long that he can tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

“f—fuck . . so fuckin’ good, s’tight . .” you’re not that well off, either, thinking the shower was a waste of water as your sweaty stomach heaved in anticipation while he bottomed out. gojo cries out in a choked moan, “you feel so g—good, mama.”

“w-who’s needing it now?” you breathe out, fingers digging into his shoulders so harshly it hurt. you catch a glimpse of satoru’s smile and a shake of his head — you’d need to be carried tomorrow, for sure.

he pulls out and slams back in so accurately you let out a loud moan, insides turning to mush after so long. the feel of him filling you up is like none other, pussy gripping onto him like a vice. you can’t remember the last time you let him take you.

“so p-perfect for me—” gojo rasps out, looking at you drunkenly. the mother of his child, his wife, it weighs on him and he just thinks he needs to fuck you until you know how much joy you bring to his life. your body rocks as your lover fucks into you, hovering over your body and looking so ethereal. his hair falls into his eyes that you just have to pull him down, crashing your lips against his. the moans he lets out against your face is lovely and you can feel his cock twitch as your legs wrap around his waist.

“‘toru— shiiitt . .” your back arches off of the bed, body caving into satoru like second nature. he lets out babbles against your lips, room filled with the sounds of his balls slamming into your ass, coupled with your weeping pussy, coating his length with all that you can give to him. “so deep—”

“that’s ’cause you’re suckin’ me in, baby—” he laughs breathlessly, cutting off your answer with another kiss, feeling the brush of pelvic bone against your clit. it’s all you need to cum hard, still sensitive after so long and your pussy clenches around gojo’s shaft even tighter; it gets gojo whining into the kiss before he reaches his high too, spilling into you with wide eyes and stuttering hips. you moan at the sensation, eyes pleading your husband for more, more, more. 

“forgot how much i loved doing that, f-fuck—” gojo hums as he removes your legs from his waist, pushing you into a deep mating press and you squeal when you feel his cock barely hit your g-spot in this new position, “yeah? ya feel that?”

you nod mindlessly, hands now holding onto his forearms before his hips start moving again and you’re left to whining like a slut. your thighs dig into your chest as gojo folds your body in half, rutting into you messily. there’s so much cum, mixed in filthily as your words only descend into incoherence.

“yes, yes, yes!” are all you can manage as gojo grunts from above you: his stubble, his broad shoulders, his matured face, they all look beautiful in the cold night. he’s so focused on the way your cunt sucks him in, hips stammering when your hand comes into view to rub your clit. “give it all t’me, daddy.”

there’s a small growl that leaves his lips at that, pace reaching an animalistic one as he angles his hips. “open y’mouth.” 

satoru is driven crazy when you obey silently, and he has to push deeper into you to reach your mouth, making you falter and pull your brows together — you recover fast enough to catch the spit hanging from his mouth, dribbling slowly into your mouth even when gojo’s hips never stop their assault.

“attagirl,” he praises, smiling softly at the way your pussy twitched at that. he knows you’re close by the look in your eyes, grasping aimlessly at his shoulders. 

“gonna let me cum in you again? hm?” gojo’s thrusts are sloppy now, fuelled by the squelch of your drooling cunt, “gonna let daddy put another baby in you?”

you mewl at that, “wan’ that— want all of it—” intoxicated on his cock, they hit the deepest parts of you; you know and love the way his tip hits your sweet spot, you know and love the way the shaved pubes of his pelvis brush up against your clit so well.

“take it then—” gojo grunts, holding your legs up and meets your eyes and the simple call of his name has him shivering. he cums deep, shooting his load so white and hot in you that you’re moaning loudly at the feeling, hand on your clit increasing in pace before your fifth for the night, legs trembling in his grip and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. 

gojo thinks you’re god. “that’s it— shit, take all of my cum, mama.” you can barely see blue, rather seeing spots of white that fill your vision and you get dizzy and overstimulated, groaning finally when he removes his cock from you. so much cum spills out, pussy pushing it out and satoru bites his lips at the sight.

but you both know you’re far from done when gojo lies on his back, ulterior motive fulfilled when he sees you climb on top of him and drag your pussy along the base of his dick. with you like this, stretch marks and plumpier breasts, you still look as beautiful as you did before the baby, letting you interlock your fingers with his. 

your mouth falls open in a soft “satoru” as you sink down onto his still hard, leaking cock and he never wants to look at anyone else ever again, lest he misses even one second of witnessing a goddess like you at work.

gojo cannot resist sitting up to meet you halfway in a soft kiss (“thank you, ’toru. you always take care of me so well.”) and it gives him all the confirmation he needs when your hips first move and the moans and the lewd sounds of your cunt sound more heavenly than all the choirs in the world.

“it’s what you deserve, baby. only the best.”