Very Long Sukuna

Big Stretch - Kenma x Reader

@luvring you cannot post a Kenma hc and think I won't find out and marinate it in my head until I have to write it

Haikyuu taglist: @lees-chaotic-brain

"Oooh, big stretch."

Kenma turns to glare at you, arms not fully extended yet. He folds in again, pouting slightly. "I'm not a cat," he says and you cock your head to the side to observe him.

"Could have fooled me." You tease.

He huffs, face growing red as he looks to the side. Oh no, did you go too far?

“Hey,” you lean in, try to catch his eye, “That was meant as a compliment. I like cats.”

He hums low in his throat, turns his amber eyes back to the paper in front of him.

“Can we just go back to work?” He asks and you nod. “Yeah, sure.”

-

“Oooh, big stretch.”

Kenma sends you a pointed glare. The guy next to him, hair dark and disheveled, chuckles low in his throat.

“Your friend?” He asks and Kenma makes it a point to shake his head exaggeratedly.

“Should I turn around so you can finish stretching?” You ask, leaning into your seat, “Or can I stay to enjoy the show.”

Red blooms on Kenma’s face as he ducks behind the collar of his shirt.

“Stop,” he whines, “There are people around.”

“Ah, young love,” the guy next to him whistles and Kenma digs an elbow into his side. “Stop it, Kuroo! I don’t even know them!”

“Liar,” you call him out, “You love me.” And though it’s said as a joke you can’t help but think that it’s more of a manifestation. If you say it often enough it will come true.

-

“Oooh, big stretch.” 

Kenma huffs. He stops moving, frozen for a second before he throws his arm around you, rests his head on your shoulder and fakes the loudest snore you’ve ever heard.

“Long game, huh?” You ask, eyes finding Kuroo’s who’s got the usual knowing smirk.

“Aren’t you tired too, dear manager?” He asks.

You shake your head, heart bubbling in your chest with how close Kenma is. Even if you had been exhausted, you couldn’t be anymore, not with him cuddling into you.

Out of sight of his teammates, his ankle crosses yours.

Truly, feet-holding is so much cuter than hand-holding.

-

“Oooh, big stretch.”

Kenma blinks, sleep settling heavily into his skin. He makes grabby hands, calling you in, and even though teasing him is as necessary to you as breathing, you cannot stay away when he’s cute like this.

You settle on his lap, lean over him, hands on either side of his face as if you’re kabedon-ing him into the mattress.

“Slept well, little kitty?” You ask and he smiles, hair fanned out around his face. 

Instead of answering he hooks one hand around your neck and pulls you in, his lips soft and a little chapped, writing poetry into your skin.

-

“Oooh, big stretch.”

Kenma glares, lips stretching into a pout at your words. You can tell he’s not fully done stretching yet, but he’s unwilling to stretch again just because you commented on it.

“In my defense,” you tell him, nudging his back with your socked foot, “You are napping like a cat.”

“‘m not.”

“Am too. It’s cute.”

“Your mom’s cute.”

You snicker. “I’ll tell her you said that.”

He groans. “Look away,” he says, “I need to stretch.”

“Mhm, no, I got full staring rights when you said ‘I do’.”

“Should have read the fine print.”

“Should have, yes.” You lean forward, fold yourself in a way that’s making your back ache, but now you’re face to face with him, able to press a kiss to his nose. 

“Now you’re mine.”

He smiles, unable to keep up the pout, ducking his face behind his long hair.

“‘m yours.”

My Kofi if you want to tip me

brother's best friend suna who barks out a laugh when you brazenly ask him for a cigarette, knowing you never smoked one before (not under your brother’s watchful eyes) but here you are, tugging on his sleeve and eyes nervously flicking between him and the party that’s bustling inside. you will never hear the end of it if osamu or atsumu—worse: both—caught you outside in some dark corner with suna, begging him for a smoke. they just don’t get that you’re not a fucking baby anymore.

but suna? suna doesn’t care. or at least he acts like it. he takes a drag of his cigarette, the cherry red tip gleaming in the dark, his big hand encircling your wrist and pulling you closer until you’re nearly standing between his legs. you can feel his body heat, smell the cologne, cigarettes and sweat on him and it’s alluring.

“be good for me.”

his voice is quiet and sultry against the shell of your ear. idle fingers trace across the puls point on your wrist before letting go, cupping one side of your face instead. you have to tilt back your head to catch his gaze—famished, yearning, something dark, too. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open for him.

suna has a feeling you’d swallow anything he’d put on your tongue when he softly exhales the smoke into your mouth, slender fingers tapping your chin, a silent command to keep it in until he says so. your breath is a little shuddered when you exhale but you don’t pull away, fingers twisting in the front of his shirt, more, more, more, until the half-smoked cigarette is crushed and forgotten under his boot and tongue sliding against yours in a feverish kiss.

Madam Gojo - G.S.

Synopsis. Gojo Satoru, the strongest clan leader in all of Japan - and the most dangerous, too. You, rejected by the elders, and totally not his future bride, right? Right?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, arranged marriage, Satoru is a little (very) INSANE and down bad, the elders are awful, oral (fem receiving), use of “madam”, unprotected, créampie, kníves, overstím, féral Satoru, heinous things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.9k

A/N. I need clan leader Gojo SO bad you guys don’t understand.

They say that the head of the Gojo clan is the one person who could burn down this entire world and get away with it, too. 

The youngest of all the clan leaders - and the most infamous - a man who keeps his friends close, and his enemies even closer. Enough so that you’ve heard whispers of his cruelty at every nook and cranny of those stuffy social functions your family has dragged you to. And it was more than enough to paint a picture of such terrifying power.

Of a sharp blade and an even sharper mouth. Of an angelic figure that left no evidence, nor anyone to tell the tale - only the final, hauntingly beautiful image of cloudy white hair, and electric blue eyes.

Eyes that were currently locked with yours, and didn’t seem like they’d stop any time soon. Dangerous. Magnetic. Twinkling with such odd amusement from across the long tatami room. 

Gojo Satoru, the head of the Gojo clan - your future husband.

“Tch, the Kamo girl’s family had a much better reputation than this one.”

Ah, right. How could you forget?

You shift awkwardly on the mat, managing to rip your eyes over to the line of elders behind Gojo, whispering just loud enough that you’d hear - and, of course, remember once more that no, the marriage proposal hasn’t been approved just yet.

And considering those disapproving glares you’d been so warmly welcomed with, it seemed that they were well and fully intent on keeping it that way.

“I can assure you,” you fight to keep the polite smile plastered on your face, painful and slowly cracking with each passing second being interrogated. “My family is well-respected in the community.” Eyes snapping over to a silent Gojo, skin burning at his intensity. “Very well respected.”

“Come now. We’re just saying.” Another voice speaks up, strained and tinged with a venomous tone you knew didn’t bode well. “Your lineage isn’t exactly illustrious, is it?”

The emphasis on “illustrious” isn’t lost on you, and it’s so fucking dramatic than you think you could almost laugh. Apparently, a few of the elders think so, too - because they’re positively seething at the sight.

Muttering an icy, “Something funny, dear?”

“Nothing at all.” you bite back any insults, sifting around the contents of your untouched dinner - the last thing on your mind right now when it seemed like you were the main scrutiny tonight. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Such attitude!” That offended croak is met with murmured agreements and nods from the end of the room, “The madam of the Gojo household must be demure- I told the young master we should go with the Kamo girl.”

God, why did you agree to this again? Something about strengthening your family ties? You felt sorry for the poor soul who’d end up marrying Gojo, because no matter how much beauty or power he held, it certainly wouldn’t make up for this. 

Scoffing, the words falling from your lips faster than you could register them. “Then why didn’t he?”

And this little question somehow seemed to have struck a nerve - multiple, in fact, as you watch in morbid fascination as the elders visibly bristle. 

“B-because-” one sends a hasty glance at their stone-faced clan leader, flushing at his still-unwavering gaze on you. “You- It doesn’t matter. Someone like you isn’t suited to marry-”

“Right, because this clan is that great.”

You freeze. The elders freeze. It seems like everyone in the world freezes except for Gojo - who only raises his brow. Letting your words hang in the air like a foul stench, studying just how awfully you’re digging your grave deeper in this hellish marriage meeting.

Eventually, the elder closest to Gojo’s right mutters a painfully saccharine sweet, “I knew we shouldn’t have let the riff-raff participate.”

And oh it was like a dam burst open.

“-out of the thousands of girls, for someone like master-”

“The scandal, too- imagine letting the Gojo name fall this far-”

“Isn’t worthy. Can’t let the bloodline be carried by some whor-”

You’re on your feet before you realize it. Whirling at the elders head-on, and if looks could kill then all those old fossils would be six feet under and their graves a dance floor for you already. 

Fists clenched, you spit, “If he’s so wonderful then you all can marry this oh-so-great bastard yourself-”

Oh. You’ve done it now.

You were fucked. You were so very, very fucked. 

You don’t even bother to meet Gojo’s stare, instead wondering whether you’d be able to outrun the strongest clan leader alive. Sure, you could take those old toads but-

“Sit.”

Your heart leaps at the voice, the first time you’re hearing it since entering this room - deep, almost-melodic, and for a second you don’t even recognize who it came from. Not until Gojo’s flashing you a mirthful grin, blue yukata shifting as he moves to sit cross-legged, “Sit.”

Oh, God, you didn’t know of any torture methods one could do while sitting - but you didn’t doubt that Gojo was an expert in all of them. 

And as your knees buckle, sinking ever-so-slowly to sit back down on the floor, Gojo tilts his head in confusion. Brows scrunching together as he gestures downwards.

“On your…lap?” You question, as if the answer wasn’t glaringly obvious. 

The only response you get is a careless nod, Gojo spreading his knees further as if to prove his point. No care or concern as he plows on, “If you’d like, of course.”

It’s a silent staredown - you, and him - and the elders watching jaw-dropped, of course. None of you have ever known the young master to let anyone get this close - let alone give them a decision on, well, anything.

. 

A weighty beat passes. One. Two. 

He wins.

And you find yourself walking unsteadily towards Gojo’s imposing figure, all eyes on you as you plop down unceremoniously in his waiting lap. Warm - and it catches you off guard. Gaze flickering over his broad shoulder to look at the aghast faces behind you. Tension crackling in the air as they wonder the same thing as you at this very moment - just what type of torture method is this? 

“Interesting…I need this one.” You blink up in confusion, heart racing and oh- shit, when did he get so close? But Gojo’s chest only rumbles with laughter. Circling his long fingers around your waist, pulling you flush against his sculpted chest, “As the new madam of the Gojo household.”

What? 

The elders behind let out stifled gasps, as bewildered as you were. And you swear you saw one faint, though, you don’t get to take a close look, because Gojo’s gently grabbing your chin, tilting your head up at his pretty face. 

“Wan’ me to kill them?”

“Kill- why?” you sputter - both from his idea and the heat of his proximity. 

“Why not?” He looks at you through his long lashes, so deceivingly innocent that it makes your head spin. Tone so light, as if he was talking about something trivial like the weather. “An early wedding gift, maybe?” And he sounded like he was joking - you wished he was joking. But you knew better. 

So you swallow thickly, “N-no…thank you.”

At this, Gojo’s eyes twinkle. “Yeah, real interesting.” he coos, voice so uncharacteristically playful. And his lips are so close - too close. Running a thumb along your bottom lip, “Gorgeous, too. Tell me, pretty, what do you think of ruling over this trash?”

And you could feel every eye on you as you mull over the question. Weighty. Scrutinizing - except for Gojo who seemed like he was hanging onto your every word. 

Hell, might as well give ‘em a few heart attacks right?

Words that never come - because your body moves before your mind. And you’ve got one hand gripping his expensive Yukata, the other scrambling for his broad shoulders. Softening the blow as you crash your lips onto his.

Soft - it’s the first thing you register. Followed very shortly by the taste of those cheap lollipops from those local convenience stores you loved - strawberry, you think.

But you don’t get to confirm, because the kiss is over as soon as it happens.

Gojo’s pulling away with a strange light in his eyes, lips flushed a pretty pink, yukata dangling off his shoulder already. You have to train your eyes away from the milky skin, and over to the elders. Yeah, one really had fainted - three, now, actually. 

And only one of them is brave enough to pipe up a rapid, “You- how dare you dirty-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. In a split second, there’s a long dagger pulled out from his yukata, embedded deep into the tatami mat - not even an inch away from the elder who’d opened his mouth. 

“Out.” 

It’s so abrupt that for a second, you think Gojo’s talking to you, voice soft, and so so eerie. It sends shivers down your spine as you raise your eyes to look at his glare at the frozen crowd behind him.

Eyes wide, aura menacing - a grin gracing his features, absolutely nothing like the one he’d sent you - it was something so dangerous and cold. The temperature in the room dropping about ten degrees as he mutters, “I won’t say it twice.”

And immediately, it’s chaos. Each one stumbling over the other to run out the sliding doors first, none of them daring to look you in the eyes now. 

“O-of course, master.” the leader, seemingly, chokes out. One foot out the room already, “I’ll um- check that the servants are doing their work-”

“No. You all will stand outside.” Gojo murmurs, not even bothering to look at them. Instead, cupping your face closer towards his, “And close the door.”

That door could not have been shut faster, ringing in the tense silence. And suddenly you’re too-aware of the audience outside. Too-aware of being left alone with…your future husband? And the way he was looking down at you with something so dark in his eyes.

“So…” he runs his nose down your neck, breathing in your scent. “If you don’t want me to kill those bastards…what else must I gift you, my wife?” 

“Like what?” You gulp, back arching involuntarily into him. 

Gojo laughs at the reaction, teeth ghosting over your racing pulse. “An estate?” Dancing ever-so-slowly, up your jaw, “All the cars you could want?” He blows gently in your ear, chuckling as you yelp in surprise. “Maybe jewelry?” Kissing the tips of your ears, “You’d look gorgeous in blue. And the Zenin clan has the perfect necklaces I can…convince them to send over.” He pulls away, taking you in entirely, “Or maybe-” Lips now ghosting yours. “-something else?”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. 

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Gojo’s lips were so sweet on yours. So addictive. Palms cradling your face so softly, while his lips were anything but. 

“Open your mouth, pretty.” he pants into your lips. “Kiss your husband properly, now.”

Shit, you barely even realize the way you’re listening to every single word he says. Jaw falling slack to let him lick at the seam of your lips. Such a messy clash of teeth and spit and him - so hot and starved. Like he couldn’t get enough with the way he hastily moves to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. 

“Satoru-” you gasp, and he nips lightly at your bottom lip once you immediately shut yourself up because shit, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Calling the clan leader Gojo by his first name? Hell, you’ll see the gates of heaven before you see an altar. 

But Gojo himself seems to think the complete opposite. “Don’t get all shy now.” he pries away the hand covering your mouth. “Call me ‘Toru’.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, trying to will yourself to say this little nickname.

Too slow, apparently. Because his hands are suddenly everywhere - on your breasts, your hips, giving your ass a slow squeeze. “T-Toru-” you squeal. 

Gojo’s mouth drops into a soft oh! Immediately surging forward as if to claim your lips again - stopping mere millimeters from your lips with a pained grunt. Like it killed him to stay away. 

“See? Jus’ like that.” he angles your head just right, before spitting, once. Twice. Right into your pretty mouth. “N’ now you’re mine.”

And fuck if Gojo wasn’t going to prove it.

He’s laying you down on the mat, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Mine to wed. Mine to carry my legacy.” Thumb running over your hardened nipples as he urgently unbuckles your bra, throwing it behind god-knows-where. “Mine to-” Biting down, ever-so-lightly on your nipple, “-worship.” Hands dipping lower, and lower - just barely teasing the hem of your drenched panties. “Mine to ruin.”

You don’t know what you’re reeling more from - maybe from those words, which you’re sure he said loud enough for the elders outside to hear.

Maybe from the way he’s sliding a finger underneath your panties, sliding it up and down your puffy folds. Making you arch into him like such a slut as he pools your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips, popping them into his mouth with a low groan. 

“Oh. Fuck. Oh, fuck-” Gojo’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Not wasting a second before ripping off your flimsy panties, tucking them away into the waistband of his yukata. “Sweeter than I imagined.”

“S-so filthy-” you mewl, as he spreads your shaky thighs. Lips wobbling pathetically at how he’s admiring your glistening cunt. “Toru, no one’s ever…”

At this, his eyes are back on yours now. Half-lidded, pupil’s blown - and you don’t think you’ve ever even heard of the leader of the Gojo clan being so out of it, let alone see it first-hand. His voice strained as he breathes out a barely audible, “Shit- really? So then…” He’s moving to lick lewd little circles on your inner thigh, “...your husband’s gotta make this memorable, right?”

Gojo doesn’t give the time to even think about answering - he doesn’t trust that he has the fucking sanity to wait that long. Because you’re so pretty splayed out like this for him. Your moans too sweet. Your cunt too tempting. Too his. 

So, really, you can’t blame him when he’s plunging nose-deep into your quivering pussy, licking one, long stripe right up your swollen folds. And fuck the cute lil’ whines escaping your lips are so addictive that Gojo just can’t help but do it again. And again. And again and-

“O-oh my god, ngh- feels too good-” you card your fingers through his soft locks - something that would usually result in a lost hand or two. But for you - anything, for you. “More, Toru.”

Shit, if Gojo thought he’d lost his sanity before then he definitely wasn’t ready for this. 

“So needy.” he’s chuckling into your glistening folds. One hand throwing your legs over his shoulders, the other thumbing over your needy clit. “So perfect. Can’t believe no one’s ever hah- eaten out this pretty cunt before.”

Immediately, he’s squeezing his hot tongue past your folds. And it’s all you can do to buck your hips up so sluttily when he licks at your sloppy entrance. Your throbbing clit. Anywhere and everywhere Gojo could reach.

“Hngh- yes yes yes, too good.”

“Yeah? Ya like this?” He moves his fingers down from your already-ravaged clit, circling your sopping wet hole. “Ya like making such a mess on m’tongue?”

“W-wha-” The words get caught in your throat as you whirl down at the sight below you - Gojo. Gojo, with strands of white hair sticking to his forehead, eyes so glassy. Gojo, tongue lapping at your sweet juices, looking like he wanted to devour you with his eyes, as much as his mouth. 

At your reaction, he grins, furrowing his brow in mock-concern, “What’s wrong, pretty? Can’t talk?” Bullying his long fingers past that first feeble ring of resistance, massaging your plushy walls. “N’ you were so hah- feisty earlier. Thought my new mmpf- wife would be mouthy?”

You give his hair a warning tug, whispering, “Sh-shut up-” But it comes out more breathless than you intended. 

Gojo notices, of course he does. Because he’s letting out a whiny, “Sh-shut up.” Wrapping his pretty pink lips around your pulsing clit, “As you wish, madam Gojo.”

You hear a dull thud from outside, but you can’t even think about turning your head to look because Gojo’s drinking you in like a man possessed. Pumping his fingers in and out, expertly hitting that one spot with each and every thrust. Looking nothing like an infamous clan-leader and every bit on cloud nine as he rolls his tongue over your clit. Over and over and-

“P-please ah- oh-” you squirm.

“Move your hips like that. Yeah- jus’ like that, pretty- fuck-” The most powerful man in the country letting himself be angled and pulled as you pleased, grunting each time you drag your pussy all over his mouth. Fingers frenzied on your clit - sloppy. Fast. 

But it still wasn’t enough for Gojo - he thinks it’ll probably never be. But that’s fine - the two of you have until the wedding night to perfect it, right?

So he’s looping a big arm around one leg, pulling your snug cunt impossibly closer, reaching over to toy with your pretty clit. And then he’s nose-deep in your sloppy entrance, preparing you for what was to come - fucking you both on his tongue and his fingers. 

Jaw grinding deeper, stretching you out, thrusting in and out in and out in and-

“Fuck fuck fuck- Toru m’so…”

“Close?” he slurs into your cunt, grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Fingers just digging into your hips, sure to leave pretty little marks for him to admire later - and to give a message to those old toads outside. “Cum f’me. Shit- cum f’me, pretty.”

Gojo realizes it before you when you’re finally cumming - because your gummy walls are squeezing around him so tight that it’s almost difficult fuck you through your high the way he wants. 

You’re shaking. Blood roaring in your ears, vision spotty. Crying out a hoarse, “Fuck fuck fuck- oh my god, Toru-” Barely even realizing the way you’re rocking your hips so hard into his hot mouth. 

And Gojo keeps going. 

Even when you’re blinking your vision back, big fat tears pricking your eyes at the sheer overstimulation. Even when white-hot electricity sparks behind your eyes each flick of his tongue. Still toying with your poor clit, tonguefucking you so messily. 

“Toru, s’too- ngh- much- fuck.” You can barely get the words out, jolting. Wondering how the fuck his mouth wasn’t tired, yet - how his fingers weren’t cramping up, tongue still as greedy as ever. “C-can’t-”

“You can. You will.” he’s murmuring into your cunt. Running his mouth now, like he was drunk off your pussy. Words as fast and ragged as his tongue. “C’mon, faster. Harder. Fuck-” you flinch as he spits out little profanities into your messy cunt. “Fuckin use me. Use me like the good lil’ wife you are.”

“Oh- shit.” you whine. Clawing at the mats, Gojo’s hair, his shoulders - just anything to cope with the sheer stimulation as he made out with your pussy like a mad man. “Wait- cum- m’gonna…”

You’re cumming and cumming all over again. So hard, even as you grind your hips deeper into Gojo’s mouth. Riding out your orgasm on his pretty face, so painfully good. 

And only then is he finally pulling away. Absolutely wrecked, eyes miles away already, mouth glistening with your slick. Going all the way down his jawline, and onto the tatami mat in a deafening drip! drip! drip!

“Oh.” he runs his tongue along his wet lips. “Who made you cum like this?” 

A smile slowly splits across his face as you manage out a little, “Y-you, Toru…”

“That’s fuckin’ right. Me.” Hypnotized by the heavenly sight of you all fucked-out and twitching with the aftershock. Marveling down at his hand - glossy, and covered with your slick, “N’ m’gonna love you.”

And, well, a good husband always shares, right?

Because Gojo’s shoving his fingers past your kiss-bitten lips, pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way he knew would have your eyes watering, gagging around him so prettily. Eyes widening at the feeling of something so hard and hot between your legs. 

“C’mon, lil’ madam. Lick them clean f’me, will you?”

You’re gasping, “Mmpf- Toru-” Eyes flitting between a smug Gojo and the hand currently untying his robe. So teasing with the way he’s giving you just a flash of those boxers before oh-

Shit. 

You thought that he’d be big - it was expected, in fact. But this was fucking ridiculous. 

All sculpted curves and dips of his body, faint scars painting his milky skin - stories he’d tell you about later, you think. A fucking masterpiece. All the way down, down, down to where his throbbing cock was leaking all over those tufts of white at his toned pelvis.

Rock-hard, and so so angry. Prominent veins running along the side, flushed a shade of pretty pink that glistened with precum in the dim lighting. So intimidatingly long that it already had you worrying for your poor cervix, and thick enough that it had your thighs pressing mindlessly together. 

Something that Gojo obviously didn’t appreciate.

“Now now.” he tuts, pulling back his fingers to spread apart your thighs with ease. So far apart that it burned. “I need these legs open, pretty. I like the view, y’see.”

And he made it quite obvious, too. Spreading your swollen folds so shamefully apart with his thumb - wet with your split. All the blood rushing to his cock at the way you flinch in embarrassment, at the feeling of being so used. Cute. 

“Shhh, relax.” Gojo hums. Spreading the spit and slick lazily along your cunt with his fat head, purposely letting it smear all over your thighs. “M’gonna make this feel so good for you.”

And let it be known that Gojo Satoru was a merciless man - for everyone. 

Except maybe his cute lil’ wife. 

Because, yes, he’s suddenly splitting you apart on his massive cock. Yes, he’s holding your poor hips still, head dropping into the crook of your neck as he sinks in inch by fucking inch. 

But oh God does he have to hold back from fucking your tight cunt exactly the way he wants. The stretch too sinful, your pussy too heavenly. 

Instead he’s kissing away the single tear rolling down your cheek, muttering, “Too big? Aww, f-fuck, pretty. You needa breathe-.” Rich, coming from him considering that Gojo doesn’t know if he was breathing right now. Too caught up in the way he’s rolling your swollen clit between his fingers, gasping into your open mouth, “Trust me. M’gonna make it f-feel hah- good. So fucking good.”

“F-fuck-” Your head is spinning. And you can only give him such delirious little nods as Gojo starts to push in quick, lazy little grinds of his hips just to squeeze inside your gummy walls. Past that first, tight ring of resistance. 

“S’too big-” you squeal, nails raking down his back. “A-are you all the way in- yet?”

“Nope.” he’s popping the p, so unfairly smug. “Not even halfway in.” Drinking in all your cute lil’ sobs as he snakes a hand up to draw an invisible line across your stomach. “But you b-better be prepared, wifey. Because this-” Pressing down, hard. “-is where I’ll be.”

You didn’t know who wanted that to become a reality more - Gojo or you. 

Especially with the way your tight cunt is sucking him up so good, and shit for all Gojo’s reputation, he feels like he could’ve cum right then and there. 

“Shit- so fucking tight. God- you’re gonna make me lose my mind.” words so strained. So dangerous. He kisses down your neck, biting right above your racing pulse. “How do you want it? Like you’re my hah- wife- or my lil’ slut?”

A trick question, you think - as much as you could when you’re this cockdrunk, at least. 

Locking eyes down at the way your cunt was bulging so obscenely around his cock, clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in in in- Unstopping. Relentless. Mewling a little, “L-like I’m your…wife.” 

“Louder.”

“Like I’m your wife.”

Several things happen at once - that faint muttering suddenly increases tenfold, and maybe if you were in any better state of mind you’d have noticed the few gasps. Gojo, however, does hear. 

It only takes an irritated growl and a split-second flash of metal for a second dagger to be struck deep into the thin wooden panel of the door - unfortunately for whoever just so happened to be on the other side. 

“That’s right. My wife.” And then he’s bottoming out - heavy balls smacking your ass, leaky tip nudging your poor cervix, letting you mark him up all you want as he rocks his hips faster into yours. “And you- ah- you realize they’re beneath you, right?” he’s stroking where he can feel himself bulging inside you. “That my lil’ wife just has to say the word n’ I’ll ngh- take ‘em all out?” 

You can only sob at the pressure, because his words are so soft but he’s fucking you so mean. Sounding like he was losing his sanity with each time your heavenly walls milked him. 

“I’ll kill ‘em- kill ‘em all-” he’s gritting out. “Hell, I’ll take down the r-rest of those clans ah- too if it pleases you.” Fingers getting so erratic on your clit, angling his hips just right to try and find- 

“Hngh- f-fuck, Toru- there-”

That.

So sloppy with the way he’s alternating between hitting that one spot and just abusing your cervix. Bruising - like he wanted to mark you everywhere n’ show it off, too. Biting down your neck, whispering into the skin, “Anything for you, madam.”

Rocking his hips harder, and he couldn’t give less of a fuck about the lewd little pool of slick and split forming on the mat below. Can’t even think to bring himself to be disgusted. 

“Feels good?” he’s drinking in your adorable sobs, “S’what you imagined?”

You’re torn between running away and fucking your hips up so bruisingly into his, hells digging into the mat as you push and pull away. “Yes. Feels- ah- ngh-” And for all your mouthiness earlier, you can’t even form coherent sentences right now - something that makes Gojo balls squeeze so painfully.

Something that has him wrapping his arms around your legging, dragging you like some ragdoll back to him. Rocking his hips so bruisingly deeper and deeper as he babbles. 

“Gonna make you c-cum. So hard.” He’s fucking you harder into the mat. Faster. Sloppier. “Gonna ngh- make you my beautiful bride.” Bouncing you on his painfully hard cock like he was claiming you from the inside - to leave marks for everyone in the clan to know. His balls on your ass, your nails down his shoulders, lips on your neck leaving little bites. “Gonna make you mine, pretty. And everyone else s’gonna know.”

And Gojo can tell when you’re close because he’s learned that you have a habit of squeezing him to insanity when you are. 

“Close?” At your delirious nod he’s giving you a blinding grin, “How cute. Why don’t you hah- cum f’me like the good lil’ wife you are, hm?”

Cum for him you do - thighs shaking, body jolting. So hard and violent that you’re covering him in all your sweet sweet juices. 

And he can only watch - awe-struck - as your pretty pussy squirts all over his angry cock glistening, and just drenched with your slick now. Beads of it getting all over his burning abs, trickling down every dip and curve as he uses your quivering pussy harder and harder-

“God, you’re so good f’me. Look how much you came.” Giving a final, harsh thrust. “So perfect f’me.”

So fucking smug as he finally cums as well. Letting out a low, muffled moan into your neck as he fills your poor pussy with rope after rope of seed, painting your walls such a sinful white. All the way until he was sure you were bloated with his cum, until he could feel it dribbling down the side. Looking down to confirm and- ah, sure enough, it was such a heavenly sight - thick globs drenching your clothes below. Spreading in a pool as his hips push deeper and deeper. 

Like it hurt to stop. Like it hurt to even think of tearing his eyes away from you. 

But, alas, this old meeting room could only take so much, and Gojo thinks you’ll enjoy his - your - bedroom much better for round two.

Which is how the elders outside found the door kicked open not too long after. Blinking up in shock at the tall figure of the Gojo clan leader at the frame holding you. Tired and limp in a princess carry, all bundled up your yukata and one of his outer robes. 

And they can only avert their eyes, faces burning at the hazy expression on your face, hair so unsubtly messy, bare legs twitching ever-so-slightly from where they were just peeking out from where the fabric had bunched up. Sinful. Desecrated. And evidently his. 

“Clean that room up.” 

Gojo’s stern command snaps them all out of their reverie. 

But before they could all run to do so, he’s plowing on, unapologetic and low. “Oh, and bow down-” chuckling lightly as they scramble to their knees before him - and your barely-lucid figure. “-to the new madam of the Gojo household.

A/N. On my period I’m gonna cry. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

When you you you when you when when wheeeeen when when you wHEEEEEN

thinking about the groan that comes out of mattsun’s mouth when you climb into his lap, bury your fingers in the soft strands of hair at the back of his head and pull until his lips part and his eyes go dark.

Cece’s fashion

kiyoomi rarely says i love you. 

when he is feeling particularly soft, though, he might frown as he tells you of course i remembered; why would i forget? (you see, it’s a little known fact that kiyoomi sakusa is a very selfish person, specifically when it comes to you. he will hoard every scrap of you he can get, and for you to be shocked that he would remember a tiny detail you shared with him one afternoon, two and a half years ago is rather offensive.) softer yet, he calls you to let you know that he just bought a sweater — figured it’d be something you would like. he’s a time zone ahead of you. the two of you have just started seriously dating 2 months ago. the sweater is in your favorite color (you told him this fun fact out of fear of an awkward silence; kiyoomi snatches it up and holds it close to his heart, because of course he would.) he bought a matching one for himself. softer still, he’ll hardly be able to keep eye contact as he struggles to stand. atsumu calls you from kiyoomi’s phone, laughing as he tells you that your boyfriend is horribly drunk and is killing the mood since he won’t shut up about how much he misses you. kiyoomi leans against the wall, watching you as you lock the door to your newly shared apartment. his curls are all messed up and his cheeks are flushed, and when you turn to him, he mutters out can you kiss me?(did you know that kiyoomi sakusa has only ever kissed one person?) and when he is feeling his softest, he looks at you with something too infinite to just be called love in his eyes. he asks you, can i marry you? not will you marry me, because despite his upbringing, kiyoomi isn’t quite as traditional as his mother taught him to be. because, despite the wealth and his growing fame, and the fact that he’s all cold skin and stone heart, kiyoomi sakusa considers it a privilege above all else to be the one you would want by your side.

MANEATER

kinich x saurian! reader

cw: no pronouns. reader is an ancient sealed saurian much like ajaw but you’re in your human form all the time. flirting and makeout. 3.5k words. not proof-read.

There were a lot of adjectives Kinich could use to describe you. Irritating would be the first, though it barely scratched the surface. 

You were cunning, nosy, and far too pleased with yourself. He could have gone his entire life without meeting you and slept soundly at night. You enjoyed testing his patience, dancing around with that sharp smile as if you knew something he didn’t. 

In your eyes, everything seemed like a game—a tiresome one, at that, with endless rules Kinich had no interest in learning. His life had been simpler—at least—before you’d come along; before your mocking laughter, your constant, uninvited insights, and that way you had of observing him, as though he were an oddity you couldn't quite figure out, or a mere prey to hunt. 

But despite everything, there was no ignoring that you had added a strange new rhythm to his days.

The memory pulled him back to that pivotal moment—the point where, he realized now, everything had shifted. 

______________________________________________

He and Ajaw had been partners for some time already, surviving one mission after another. So when another one arrived, promising a huge payment in exchange for exploring ancient ruins, Kinich barely batted an eye. The contractor was vague and evasive about the reasons, claiming he needed a specific artifact hidden within. Suspicious, maybe. But money was money.

Navigating the ruins was a gauntlet. Kinich lost count of the traps, the decaying pillars that threatened to collapse with each step, the puzzles and mechanisms clearly designed to keep intruders out. The place was a maze of broken stone and silent challenges, yet he felt a familiar surge of satisfaction with each step deeper into the heart of the ruin.

At last, he reached a final chamber, where the object of his commission stood on a dais—a fragment of the past unlike any he’d seen before, emanating a strange energy that felt older than time itself. It was no wonder his contractor had wanted it, though Kinich couldn’t begin to guess what it was for.

The moment his hand brushed the relic, a surge of ancient power pulsed through the room. Ajaw, strangely quiet but ever alert, shifted beside him, his eyes narrowing with a cautious awareness. And then, from the shadows, a voice drifted through the room, light and smooth with an undercurrent of menace.

“Well, well. Another little human wandered in.”

Kinich whirled, looking around through the darkness of the place for the source of the voice, when he finally met you.

The figure before him was both mesmerizing and unnervingly unnatural. Even as he felt his guard rise, there was no denying you were the most otherworldly, hauntingly beautiful being he had ever seen. But your draconic eyes betrayed your true nature. You were one of Ajaw’s kind, another ancient sealed entity—alive and as dangerous as the power coursing through the chamber.

Ajaw stirred, his presence crackling with a familiar hostility. “Hunf. Long time no see, (Y/N),” he greeted you, his tone a blend of wary sarcasm and grudging acknowledgment. 

You met his words with a raised brow and an amused smile.

“My, you’re still alive, Ajaw? And leaning on humans above all. How unfortunate,” you replied dryly, crossing your arms. Ajaw grumbled irritated earning a gaze from Kinich who was watching your interaction with almost amused interest. 

“So, human”, you said, your voice edged with a touch of boredom as you sat on a rock, “What do you want with me? What’s the plan? Drag me off to that contractor of yours perhaps?”

Kinich maintained his composure, though he was a bit surprised by how you already knew the reason why he stepped into your domain.

Without further ado, the hunter started to explain the details of his commission—he was the first, but surely he wouldn’t be the last either. 

The moment he finished, your expression twisted, a flicker of disdain evident.

“As if I’d go along with that. Typical mortals, always seeking what they don’t understand, eager to trap things they have no right to touch,” you hissed, earning a followed amused chuckling from Ajaw. 

You paused, the resentment burning in your chest, however, Kinich noted there was something else too as your eyes lingered on him.

Leaving your throne behind and stepping forward, your presence filling the space between all three of you. 

“I have a proposition for you only, though. A contract, let’s call it,” your smile was both inviting and taunting. “We’ll work together, for our mutual benefit. To be frank it is more for my selfish desire than to help you. I’m tired of talking to walls, you see,” your eyes traveled through his body before meeting his gaze again, “Surely, you wouldn’t want to go back with nothing, right?”

Kinich weighed your words carefully, his mind racing through the possibilities and costs. 

He already bore the weight of a pact with Ajaw, and he understood the price of balancing multiple contracts with creatures of such power. Yet the allure of your knowledge, your abilities, was too great to ignore.

Ajaw seemed to be on his edge, cursed both of you facing the absurdity of the offering and what it could bring. 

Nevertheless, Kinich’s mind was set already. With a final, steady breath, he nodded, sealing his decision. Your eyes flashed with a glint of satisfaction, your smirk widening into something altogether dangerous, seductive. You leaned on his ear, your voice dropping to a near-whisper.

“I look forward to working with you, Kinich.”

______________________________________________

That day, Kinich hadn’t earned a paycheck. However, he hadn’t left the ruins empty-handed, either.

From then on, his life became a delicate balance of managing two unpredictable forces. Ajaw, with his bristling sarcasm and an unending appetite for murder, had been challenging enough on his own. But adding you, with your teasing demands and cryptic ways, turned Kinich’s daily life into a finely tuned exercise in patience.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks to months with Kinich adapting himself to the peculiar rhythms of his two ancient companions. 

Ajaw kept volatile, ever-ready to lend his power with a razor-thin line between aid and sabotage. Kinich could call on his abilities freely; but each time, the pixelated dragon took the chance to push him to his limit, toying with him like prey and testing the boundaries of their contract.

You, however, were different. Your contract was filled with stipulations, each one more elusive than the last. Kinich could request your power, your wisdom on ancient lore and mystical ruins, your understanding of secrets hidden for centuries—but each favor required a price. 

He remember the first time he’d needed your help, you smiled wide and said, “Fetch me a Cecilia.”

At first, Kinich hadn’t thought much of it—a flower, seemingly simple enough. Then he realized that Cecilias only bloomed on the cliffs of Mondstadt, a land far from Natlan. And anyone leaving Natlan without permission of the Wayob risked losing themselves, a curse bound by ancient magic. 

That he’d managed to find one spoke to his sheer stubbornness, his ability to navigate through obstacles that should have been impossible.

When he’d finally placed the flower in your hand, your satisfaction had been infuriatingly clear.

It was never straightforward with you. Another time, he’d requested a map of an old ruin rumored to be full of hidden dangers. In return, you’d demanded a simple luxury—a crystal pendant, clear as water, something you could admire as you traveled through dark caves and shadowed forests. A trivial thing, but your smile as you held the pendant was somehow worth the trouble.

Through it all, Kinich found himself unwillingly entangled in your games, constantly navigating the space between the three of you, keeping a balance that was tenuous at best. And even as you continued to provoke him with your playful, cutting comments, he found himself grudgingly relying on you.

There were commissions where you proved to be an invaluable ally. Your intelligence was formidable; your strategies were sound, your insights swift, and you saw through traps that Kinich sometimes missed. Your pride might have been infuriating, but your strange loyalty, he realized, was something rare. 

You kept him on his toes with your challenging personality, pushing him to improve even as you drove him to distraction. And on rare nights, after a long day’s journey or a grueling fight, you’d sit in silence, the air between you calm and oddly comfortable. There were times, with the firelight flickering and casting shadows on your face, that he found himself almost… dazzled.

If he had to do it all over again, he wouldn’t have done it differently. Not that he’d ever admit it to you.

Now, back to present on yet another commission, Kinich found himself partnered with you once more. 

Ajaw had declared the mission too dull to follow, muttering something about it being more suited to “(Y/N)’s ridiculous logic puzzles” than to his taste for battle. Kinich was grateful for the reprieve, though he knew the real challenge would be handling your endless demands and your habit of testing his patience.

You were intelligent and efficient, he could admit that much, but your sharp wit and flirtatious ways were exhausting. You never missed an opportunity to prod at him, to see if you could break through his carefully constructed guard.

As you two moved deeper into the cave, Kinich couldn’t help but feel your eyes on him, watching for every reaction, every flicker of emotion. 

You’ve made a sport of it, brushing close, a sly smile playing on your lips whenever you sensed his irritation, always aiming to get under his skin. And yet, you had an uncanny sense of his well-being. You’d sidestep a trap just in time, then look back to ensure he’d done the same. It was an odd, unspoken protection, one that both irritated and relieved him.

The ruin was as treacherous as any he’d encountered, with more than a few puzzles that made Kinich silently grateful for your presence. You disarmed traps, deciphered carvings he’d never have managed, and stepped through mazes with a precision that bordered on the supernatural. And though you complained all the way through, your pride and determination drove you to succeed.

You both just completed the commission, retrieving the artifact you’d come for, when you turned to him, wiping the dust from your hands. You gave him an amused look, a glint of mischief in your eyes.

“Well,” you started, your tone laced with that familiar teasing edge. “We’re done here.”

He nodded, grateful for the relative quiet that would follow—until you tilted your head, regarding him thoughtfully. “You’ve been awfully quiet today, Kinich. More than usual. A mora for your thoughts?”

Your tone was light, almost offhand, but your gaze was anything but casual. Something was probing in the way you looked at him, as though searching for an answer he hadn’t voiced. The saurian hunter held your gaze, his own expression carefully neutral, as he considered his response.

He stood still, his gaze lingering. Kinich told himself it was merely to study your expression, to gauge your intentions. But his mind betrayed him, tracing the fine details of your face—from the sharp line of your jaw to the glint in your dragon-like eyes and the slight curve of your lips that seemed forever on the edge of a knowing smile. Your beauty was the kind that defied logic, pulling him in even as he resisted.

“It’s nothing,” he replied finally, his tone measured, distant. He turned, motioning for the two of you to leave. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

But you didn’t follow. Instead, you remained where you were, arms folded, head tilted to one side as if you’d only just begun to consider something. The look you gave him was a little too knowing, the glint in your eyes far too familiar. He knew that look of yours. Most of times it meant only thing one: problem.

“Kinich,” you said, a slow smile spreading across your lips. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

The hunter stopped, exhaling slowly as he turned to face you. His eyes narrowed. You were up to something—that much was clear. You had that dangerous, cat-like look about you, your gaze dark and sharp, as though sizing him up, anticipating his every move. He lifted an eyebrow, his voice a shade more cautious than he’d intended.

“And what would that be, (Y/N)?” he asked.

For a moment, you didn’t reply. Instead, you took a single step closer, your eyes never leaving his. He felt his pulse quicken, though he kept his expression blank.

You moved toward him slowly, a faint, predatory gleam in your eyes. You were close now, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from your skin, and could catch the hint of some exotic scent lingering in the air. A blend of something earthy and sweet, entirely unique to you.

Kinich steeled himself, forcing his mind to stay sharp, though he found himself captivated despite his best efforts. You paused just a breath away, your gaze flickering over him with the lazy, confident ease of someone who knew exactly the effect you had.

A hint of amusement crept into your smile. “It’s payback time,  Malipo”, you began, your voice low and smooth, laced with an almost sinister edge, “I’ve worked hard today, you see, so I’m feeling a bit… greedy.”

His eyes narrowed further.

“What do you want, (Y/N)?”

You giggled. “Oh, I could ask for any number of things,” you took a deep sigh and started to circle him. “Power… influence… control of your soul, even.”

He remained quiet. Your smile widened at his lack of reaction, your teeth flashing in the dim light of the ruins. You were enjoying this, taking your time, savoring every second as if you were unwrapping a carefully chosen gift.

“But…,” you murmured, drawing the word out, “I think I’m more fond of something else.” You paused, letting the silence build, each second stretching as you watched him, relishing his quiet wariness.

Finally, your eyes locked with his, and you spoke with deliberate slowness. “Kiss me.”

Silence.

For a moment, Kinich felt his mind go blank, his eyes widening briefly in stunned silence before he quickly regained control, his expression hardening. 

It had to be a game. Another one of your tricks, another way to unsettle him, to get under his skin. But your gaze didn’t waver, your expression calm, almost serene, though he saw the gleam of anticipation behind your eyes.

A dozen thoughts raced through his mind, each one colliding with the next. His heart hammered in his chest, the sound loud and unsteady, and yet he kept his face neutral, his stance calm. This was you, after all. You thrived on unsettling him, on watching him squirm—though he’d learned, over the months, never to give you the satisfaction of seeing his reactions.

But your eyes… you weren’t blinking, weren’t moving. You waited, utterly still, your lips curved into the faintest smirk as you watched him wrestle with himself. He almost thought he saw something genuine in your gaze, something more than the surface-level teasing, but he dismissed the thought quickly. You were you. Cocky, calculating—you had to be playing with him.

“Don’t tell me there’s something you can’t manage, Kinich,” you sighed, your tone equal parts challenge and mockery. “Well. That’s rather disappointing,” you turned, as if prepared to leave, already dismissing the moment with that same enigmatic smile.

Without fully thinking, Kinich’s hand shot out, catching you by the wrist. You stilled, surprise flickering across your face before you concealed it, though your eyes flashed with something he couldn’t name yet. 

For a heartbeat, you stood in silence, your pulse quick and light beneath his fingers. Slowly, he drew you toward him, his arm encircling your waist, anchoring you against him as his other hand found your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

He exhaled a soft, reluctant sigh. “You’re nothing but trouble,” he murmured, his voice laced with resignation.

You only laughed softly, a sound that was both daring and pleased, and he could feel your smirk against his skin as he leaned down, finally pressing his lips to yours.

The first contact was a mere tentative brush, barely more than a fleeting touch between your mouths. It was a moment suspended in uncertainty, as though both were testing the boundaries of this unexpected closeness. 

For a breath, you held still, neither moving nor daring to deepen it. But something simmered beneath the surface, a quiet intensity that broke through the silence with an undeniable pull.

Before either could pull away, though, the kiss grew deeper, hungrier, an unspoken desire erupting between you two. 

Kinich’s hand tightened at your waist, pulling you closer, feeling the warmth of your body pressed to his. He could taste the faint, exotic sweetness of your lips as you yielded to him instantly, only to counter with your own ferocity. But it was when your lips parted that a dam seemed to break. 

Eagerly, Kinich took this opportunity and deepened the kiss, your tongues meeting in a dance of defiance and passion. There was a taste of something otherworld in you, a hint of mystery and danger that drew him in even as it warned him. But he ignored the caution, letting himself be consumed by the moment, by the heat, by the softness of your mouth against his, the way you met his every movement with your own, never yielding, never backing down.

It was a silent battle, a clash of wills and sublime frustration as each sought to take the lead, the kiss growing fierce and excited, your breaths mingling with a fervor you could no longer contain.

Your hands slid up from his chest, your touch lingering, savoring the feel of him as your fingers trailed up his neck and into his hair. You tugged slightly, demanding, as if daring him to give you more. Your fingertips were cool yet electric against his skin, igniting something primal, something he rarely let surface.

Kinich responded instinctively, his own restraint slipping as he pressed you back, guiding you toward the rough wall of the ruin. The space between you dissolved entirely as your back met the stone as he lifted you, the pressure of his body firm, claiming.

Your breaths grew heavier. Your hands gripped both his hair and shoulder, your nails lightly pressing into his skin. His hand slid from your waist, tracing the curve of your thighs and ass, pressing your body into his as though anchoring you there. Every inch of him was focused on you, on the feel of you against him, on the pulse of energy that crackled between you, too powerful to ignore.

When you finally broke apart, the world around seemed to settle, the heavy silence filling the air once more. 

Kinich’s breathing was ragged, his pupils wide, and dilated, his pulse still pounding with an intensity he rarely allowed himself to feel. He could feel the warmth of your breath still lingering close, your lips barely an inch apart, almost as if you were challenging him to give in again.

Your expression was slightly unfocused, your usual composure replaced by something vulnerable, exposed. Kinich caught himself enjoying this version of you. There was a faint flush across your cheeks, a look of astonishment that you quickly masked, though it didn’t disappear entirely. 

For a moment, neither of you spoke the weight of what had just happened hanging heavy, charged with unspoken thoughts, things that might have been, things neither of you would admit.

And then you chuckled softly, your voice laced with amusement, your lips curving into a smirk. “My,” you murmured, your tone both teasing and provocative, “I didn’t expect that. Although I can’t say I didn’t like it either.” You tilted your head, your eyes gleaming with a playful glint. “As always, it’s a pleasure to do business with you, Kinich.”

Kinich didn’t reply immediately, his gaze steady, his expression indecipherable, but there was a depth in his eyes that betrayed him, a lingering trace of something he couldn’t quite banish. 

With a sigh, he finally stepped back, putting a carefully measured distance between you. “Anytime,” he said, his voice low, raspy. “So? Let’s get out of here?”

He turned, giving you space to follow, his demeanor returning to its usual calm, composed state. 

Yet as he moved, he couldn’t ignore the lingering taste of you on his lips, the faint, intoxicating trace that refused to fade. The rational part of him knew this shouldn’t change things—that it couldn’t. You were tied by a pact, bounded by terms he should have expected. This was simply one of your “favors,” a twist you’d added, nothing more.

But as you left the ruins, a sense of awareness settled within him, the quiet realization that for all his caution, he’d succumbed, letting himself be drawn into your orbit, your game. It was dangerous, foolish even, to think this meant anything, to risk feeling for someone who thrived on unpredictability and cunning.

Even so, he couldn’t shake the way you had looked at him, the warmth of your touch, the sensation that still lingered, refusing to be dismissed.

And though he would bury it, push it away, he knew, somewhere in the depths of his guarded heart, that this would stay with him, a taste of something forbidden, lingering, marking him in a way he’d never intended.

✰ gn!reader x gojo ✰ fluff, reader is a teacher at JJT ++ idk how else to describe this one except that there’s a very specific scene in t100 that inspired this, i rmr seeing it once and ever since it’s become a scenario i daydream abt all the time 🧍‍♀️ never watched the show fully tho so dont quote me on that SBHDJK ✰

satoru’s always had a special way of connecting with others that could often leave an imprint of his own personality in their mannerisms; small habits of his that a select few would subconsciously pick up, had they payed enough attention.

what that looked like among his current first-year students was the sheer volume at which they speak when they enter a room, especially when they’re particularly excited to share something with their sensei.

satoru honestly loved it— grinning widely anytime yuuji or nobara barged into a room, loudly announcing something that would be considered entirely unimportant to many. he was always ready to match that energy tenfold, though. their excitement was important to him; that’s simply one of the ways in which he cared for them.

so the looks on their faces right now was definitely new to satoru. yuuji had slid open the door to one of the lounges at tokyo’s jujutsu tech, with nobara and megumi trailing closely behind him. the six eyes user knew they were coming before they’d even breached the threshold, as he was already holding a finger up to his lips the moment they stepped into the room— a sign for them to be quiet.

in an entirely comical manner, yuuji freezes on the spot, his right hand stopping in the air mid-gesture as he gapes at his teacher with his mouth still hanging open. the words that were previously ready to be spoken were now ushered back down his throat, making the young boy splutter for a moment in surprise before he pulled himself together.

he had stopped in his tracks so suddenly that nobara even bumped into his back, and then megumi consequently bumped into her. it was a domino effect that would’ve had satoru doubled over in laughter at virtually any other time. right now, though, his eyes only linger on his students for a short moment before he’s casting them back down; just as megumi mumbles a complaint to yuuji and nobara promptly shushed him.

the three students were puzzled as they followed satoru’s gaze— or rather, the downwards tilt of his head, considering that his eyes were shielded by his blindfold —but their curiosity was quickly satiated at the sight before them.

the sight of you, curled up on the couch facing away from the door, fast asleep while clutching a throw pillow. if any of them noticed that it was satoru’s own jacket currently tucked over your frame to keep you warm, they didn’t speak of it.

“we were supposed to do some mission debriefing,” satoru finally breaks the silence, speaking in an uncharacteristically hushed tone; it was notably softened to a degree, as well. “but they knocked out as soon as they moved to the couch. i’m pretty sure this is the most sleep they’ve had all week.”

as satoru addresses his students, his eyes never leave you, carefully watching over you in your slumber. there’s a small smile on his face that begs a question to raise in nobara’s mind, but she knows better than to ask… at least, for now she does.

“ooh,” yuuji responds, nodding slowly as he blinks down at you. “sensei did mention during training yesterday that they had to oversee more missions than usual lately.”

satoru nods to confirm his words, and then silence fills the space between them once more. it’s not until a short moment later, when megumi actually picks up on the fact that it’s satoru’s jacket draped over your body, that he decides to say something.

“have you just been sitting there this whole time, then?” megumi grumbles, raising a skeptical eyebrow at the older man— the very one he happened to know just a little bit better than his classmates did.

satoru is taken aback for a moment, only mildly surprised at megumi’s question. he can’t say he expected any different from the kid he raised. megumi was always pretty good at reading a room; and he could read his de facto stepfather like an open book.

he considers his response for a split second before shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, hoping to at least convince yuuji and nobara otherwise. “i’ve been doing some work for them since they fell asleep,” he says, resisting the urge to clear his throat. “so they don’t have to worry about it later.”

while it’s true that satoru was working— the spread of papers and mission report files across the coffee table in front of him suggests as much —the amount of actual productivity he’s had since you fell asleep could not amount to as much as he’s currently implying to his students. simply put, he’s been… distracted.

distracted with making sure you slept well, by lowering the blinds and shrugging his jacket off to drape over your body. listening out for anyone walking down the hallway, or tucking back loose strands of hair that would occasionally fall over your face and make you subconsciously crinkle your nose. wondering why his heart skipped a beat at the sight of you looking so peaceful and relaxed; the mere fact that you were comfortable enough in his presence to fall asleep, rendering yourself completely vulnerable around him.

the amount of trust such an act entails, the very trust that you had in him. or, you know— something along those lines.

nobara huffs softly, now tugging at yuuji’s sleeve. she picked up on the hint long before the other two did, but it was only now confirmed by the way satoru lingered near you. as much as he loves his students, and loves hearing them out when they want to speak with him— he currently had no intention whatsoever at leaving your side.

satoru was going to make sure you got as much sleep as you possibly could; knowing you’ve been overworking yourself all week, it’s been killing him inside (…for some reason).

“that’s okay,” nobara supplies, now tugging at yuuji’s arm more firmly to get the young boy to budge. “we can talk to you about it a little later, you can keep— uh, working,” she mumbles quickly, nodding apologetically at satoru before grabbing the wrists of the two boys she arrived with and spinning around, pulling them out of the room with her.

satoru chuckles under his breath, watching with a small grin how she runs out of the room with the other two behind her. megumi opts to slide the door closed once more, and then satoru’s eyes are back on you.

he feels that familiar tug at his heart again, seeing you like this. he’s not trying to be weird about it, watching you while you sleep, but he just— he just wants to make sure you get your rest! that’s all there is to it, he’s convinced.

a soft huff of air escapes your lips, pulling him out of his thoughts. he sees your eyebrows scrunching together for a moment, your arms tightening around the throw pillow as one of your hands clutches at the jacket draped over you. you adjust your position a little bit, pulling up the jacket, and then your face finally relaxes once more.

satoru is… not sure why he was holding his breath, feeling it hitch more in his throat seeing the way you pulled his jacket closer to your face.

(surely his scent is on that jacket, and you’re probably smelling it while you sleep with how close it is to your face now. is it calming to you? is the subconscious sensation of satoru being so close to you making you feel at ease?)

he thinks he sees a faint smile tug on your lips then, but he shakes his head as he decides to pull his gaze away from you. he must be imagining things. he’s definitely imagining things.

he slinks back against his seat as he peers down at the coffee table, begrudgingly continuing his work— shoving his doting thoughts about you to the back of his head while he unsuccessfully tries to calm the frantic, nervous beating of his heart.

2:53 am

"kei." no response. you know tsukishima has to get up early for work, but the window across from your bed is open, allowing the night breeze to creep in and sting your face. you could get up yourself, but that's what husbands are for, right?

you twist around, trying to wiggle out of your husband's grasp so you can take a better look at his sleeping face. he has an arm wrapped firmly around your waist, the other supporting your neck to, in his words, 'protect his ears from your constant complaints about your sore neck in the morning'.

"honey?" you poke his cheek, smiling to yourself when he grunts in response. tsukishima has always been a light sleeper. you lay in silence for a few seconds before he finally lets out a sigh, opening his eyes to look at you.

"what do you want?"

you muster up your biggest doe eyes, knowing that he hates getting out of bed just as much as you do. "close the window for me?"

"no. you do it."

you sigh dramatically, gesturing at his arms wrapped firmly around you. "i would love to, but someone is holding me hostage, so i think you're going to have to do it."

tsukishima rolls his eyes, untangling his arms from your body. "problem solved." he holds back a smile when you frown and pull the blankets away from him, turning your back towards him. you're so cute. tsukishima would do anything you ask of him without hesitation, but he can't help but tease you a bit first. he'll never get tired of your reactions, and he loves that he can be a little snarky with you.

you sigh again, this time louder and more pointed, pretending to shiver just to show your husband how cold you really are, and how cruel he is for not helping. "if only someone could hold me right now...", you trailed off.

"ok, do you want me to help you or not?" he finally gives in, getting up to reach for his glasses. you win, as usual. you turn back to face him again with a smile as bright as sunshine, and despite all of the years you've been together, his heart still stops for a second. wow. okay, maybe he is obsessed with you, but he can't help it. you've clearly worked your magic on him, considering the fact that he's getting out of the bed for you when he has to be awake in a few hours. he goes to close the windows with a firm click, walking back to his side of bed.

"kei...since you're already up...", he looks back to see your guilty smile, an empty mug in your hands. "please? last thing, i swear." he give you a look that reads, "you're lucky i love you." (you know you're the luckiest person in the world.)

he takes your mug and you hear his quiet footsteps making their way to the kitchen. he comes back, handing you a mug full of warm water. once you take a sip, he takes the mug from you again, placing it on your nightstand.

"i poisoned that," he quips, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before finally lying down and snaking his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer to him. the only reason he hates getting out of bed is that he has to let go of you, but he doesn't need to say that. he's sure you already know.