This Right Here, This Is What I Like.

This right here, this is what I like.

Thinking about being Sukuna’s favorite concubine…

He gives you special treatment, being far more lenient with you than the others. You want a luxury bath? You’ll get it. Want to have a night to yourself? He’ll consider it if you’re extra good to him today. He’ll even forgive that smart mouth of yours for speaking out of turn.

He’ll shower you in finery; clothes, hairpins, exotic fruits. He likes rewarding you with something that makes your eyes go wide and gleam with interest like you’re a little crow. It’s also to show off that you’re his favorite, everything on you marking his possession over you.

He’ll keep you on his lap as he sits on his throne, one arm always snuggly wound around your waist. It’s all about showing off his power and fertility to whoever visits him of course, but you get to be the one he does it with. You are the one to be shown off, to be remembered by whoever makes it out of a visit with Sukuna alive.

He normally doesn’t allow his concubines to sleep next to him, it being far more of a hassle than he usually finds it worth it, but he makes an exception for you. It’s not always, of course, but most nights after he calls on you (which is a lot) he’ll draw you against his body and hold you for his own comfort.

He’s more tender with you. Like mentioned before wrapping you in his arms to sleep, or letting you press a gentle kiss to his mouth. Not every touch you share with him is dirty, which is quite unique with Sukuna.

He’ll overwork you. You are his favorite, his most desired one, so be prepared to get fucked till your holes feel raw and your walk is messed up. He just wants you all of the time, making sure you are always bare under your kimono so he can flip it up and take you whenever he pleases. Perhaps if you beg him very, very sweetly not to use one of your sore holes, he’ll agree to use another, just because it’s you, because he’s such a kind master.

He’ll cum inside you. It’s not a privilege exclusively reserved for you per se, but he tries to avoid it with the others. He has had no interest in having children, so it’s a real hassle when one of his women falls pregnant. The fallout is never pleasant, to say the least. But you… well, clearly you have something special to have captured his interest. Maybe it’s your beauty, or your intelligence, or maybe you carry some tremendous cursed energy. Something made him like you best, and that something makes him wonder that maybe, if he is to create a legacy for himself, then you should be the one to help him with that. The change is not spoken about, you quickly enough finding out that Sukuna never pulls out of you anymore, keeping his cock inside you afterwards and fucking his cum even deeper. It’s only when you’re clearly sick with worry about him ditching you (of worse) if you get pregnant that he tells you his thoughts. You happily accept your role of course, just as he knew you would.

His favorite, his precious little jewel

Family Man

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word Count: 7.7k

Synopsis: Gojo Satoru wakes up in the body of Sawai Satoshi, a 35-year-old man with a wife and a newborn

(Warnings: Yandere, dark, brief contemplation of torture, ooc gojo, he gets better tho, explicit smut, dubcon(?), piv sex, f!oral recieving, not many warnings in this one...)

One morning, Gojo Satoru wakes up in a bed that isn't his.

His bedsheets are expensive, silk, nothing less. He feels cotton pillowcases, and the bed feels smaller.

He must have gone home with someone last night.

He can feel them cuddled up to his side. Usually, he's gone by the morning, but he must have fallen asleep. Makes sense: missions these days have been getting more and more exhausting.

Within his thoughts, he can admit that it's a nice way to wake up, but he needs to go. The sun's already high in the sky, and Ijichi will turn into a nervous wreck if he's late, again. At this point, Gojo just pities the man for even trying.

When he shifts, the figure next to him moves too. A voice, soft and raspy.

"Satoshi. Stop moving."

He must have given an alias. Or maybe you just didn't remember his name.

You're still half-asleep. Your brow is pinched in annoyance, and he finds that a little funny. You're a foreigner. He can tell from your skin tone, your hair, your accent. Despite your face buried in the blankets, he finds you pretty, and it felt like a good night.

But you two did fuck, right?

It doesn't feel like it. He doesn't feel like he just had sex. He can't even remember what he did with you. When he looks down, Gojo realizes that he's dressed in clothes he knows he doesn't own.

Also, he isn't wearing a blindfold, but his eyes aren't hurting.

Too many things are wrong. When Gojo calls for his technique, he feels nothing. Too many things are going wrong. Was it you? Were you some curse user that lured him into bed or something? Did you shut off his CT? He needs to figure it out. Is there rope nearby? A knife? He needs something sharp that will make you scream and cry but he can't take too much blood because if you pass out he won't get answers-

And then, he does hear crying. Muffled.

It's coming from a baby monitor.

"Ugh, no." You groan. "I thought we'd have a few more minutes."

You're shuffling off the bed, stretching before you shoot him a sleepy smile.

"I'll get her. Breakfast will be ready in twenty."

You blow him a kiss, and then you're gone.

Gojo sits up, and he studies himself again.

His hands are shorter, unkept. The thing that unnerves him the most are the scars. Papercuts, blemishes. He's never gotten a scar in his life. Infinity protected him from that.

But he doesn't have infinity anymore. And he doesn't think he's Gojo anymore, either.

When he stands, he feels shorter, too. The world is bigger when he creeps into the bathroom. He flicks the lights on and looks in the mirror.

Satoshi stares right back at him.

↻

Gojo doesn't like being surprised.

He actually hates surprises, so this shit is starting to put a damper on his mood.

He considered that it may be a dream, but everything is too realistic. It has to be someone's shitty cursed technique. All that he knows is that he's currently possessing Sawai Satoshi's body.

Age 35, from his license. The picture of him depicts a man who's starting to bald, and timid eyes. Gojo's pretty sure he's an office worker. A family man. Judging from the pictures, he and his wife just had a baby girl a couple of months ago.

Sawai's wife. You.

First things first, he needs to find this Satoshi guy. There's a big chance that Sawai is out there in Japan with his body and cursed technique. That is not good. And if anyone else found out what happened...

Fuck, he needs to find this guy.

Being normal is strange. He doesn't get headaches from just seeing anymore, so that's nice. Without infinity, he feels the carpet, the walls, the wooden rails, the air. It's like an out of body experience.

Eh, at least he still has his humor.

Something's talking in the kitchen, and there's babbling. He ignores it, in favor of the door.

"Where are you off to?"

You're right there, head tilted and an amused smile. Gojo hasn't been this stumped in a while. He blinks.

"Work." He finally blurts out. Satoshi has an office job. He can use that excuse.

You laugh, and it sounds like a wind chime.

"It's the weekend." You tell him. "Did you forget?"

Shit. You frown at your 'husband' in sympathy.

"They're working you too hard; I keep telling you to talk to your boss." You hum. "Anyway, food's ready! Coming?"

You don't give him a chance to respond, ushering him along until he's sitting on a stiff wooden chair. It looks like it's seen better days. The table has scuffed wood.

Two plates are sitting on either side of the table. Still steaming. Gojo doesn't remember the last time he ate a meal that wasn't made by a microwave or apathetic servants. He's been so busy with the jujutsu world and his students and...just everything.

Sawai's daughter is kicking her feet on the highchair next to him. She's an infant, under a year old. She babbles something in a high-pitched squeal, giggling at him.

You coo something at her that isn't Japanese, feeding her something that resembles apple sauce. When you look over at him again, you frown.

"You okay?" You ask.

He stares.

"You haven't touched your food yet?" You continue. "Don't like it?"

"No." He says sharply. And then he takes a bite. "It's delicious."

It's the truth. You grin, and you turn back to your daughter.

Despite the baby's squeals, the buzzing of the fan, it's quiet. Gojo isn't used to that. Quiet, slow, peaceful. He's used to fast, blinding flashes, urgent messages from sorcerers calling him all across the globe. Roaring special grades with sharp teeth and human-like smiles.

Is this what being human felt like?

He takes another bite, and he thinks he forgot to do something.

↻

It's easy to piece yours and Sawai's lives together.

He worked overseas. That's where he met you. You were a traditional dancer in your country, and considering the various medals and pictures, you were good at it. Gojo wonders if that's how you and Sawai met. If he was just among the crowd and saw you on stage. Did he make the first move? Or did you see him fidget in the corner before you gathered enough sympathy to talk first? You and Sawai got married in your country before you moved to Japan. Reina is your first child. You're a homemaker. Sawai is a salaryman. You two would celebrate your fifth anniversary this year.

It's a simple, normal life. Gojo finds it a little boring.

Breakfast was nice, but he needed to get out of there. Gojo couldn't afford normal.

You caught him again in his second escape attempt.

"Why are you so ansty today?" You ask, folding laundry. "You're usually ecstatic to sleep on the couch all weekend."

Because he isn't Sawai, he doesn't lounge around all day on the couch. But he can't tell you that. From all accounts, you look like a non-sorcerer, so clearly, this body-switching fiasco isn't your fault. Though, the name Sawai sounds familiar, but Gojo can't place it.

"You've even gotten Oka riled up, Toshi." You fold up one of Sawai's shirts.

Right, the cat. Sawai's cat, before the marriage. Animals have always had a better sense of cursed energy. The thing has been hissing at him all morning. Gojo wants to tell him the feeling's mutual.

"Maybe he's hungry." Gojo shrugs. "And I've been..."

He doesn't know what to say, so he stops.

You sigh, tucking away the last of the laundry. He's seated on a couch he didn't buy. You sit next to him, arm stretched out so you can fiddle with his sleeve.

"Listen, I know what's going on."

He stares. You give a trepid smile, pulling a loose thread off his sleeve. It's barely even a touch, yet it burns.

"It's work. It's always work. God, this morning you were so out of it, you nearly hopped on the train if I hadn't stopped you." You start. "This isn't healthy. Have you talked to your boss about some time off?"

He and Sawai have more in common than he thought. Gojo can see it in the mirror : the sleepless nights and the stress. Is this how he'll end up in seven years? How depressing.

A vacation. Gojo had seen the emails on Sawai's computer. His team treated him like a rat, just dumping more and more work on him. Sawai so far hasn't even told them no. This guy needs a backbone, but Gojo doubts he'll get one soon.

But why does he care? Who gives a single shit? He needs to get out of here; why is he sitting here listening to Sawai's wife?

"Hey?" You nudge him, and Gojo is again forced to stare into your beautiful eyes.

“You okay?”

You needed to stop doing that. Looking at him in a way no one has looked at him before. Lovingly, adoringly, like he's more precious than gold.

That look isn't for him—he knows that—it's for the man who married you. The man you had a child with. And he needs to go. His students are waiting for him. Yaga’s blood pressure must be raising a mile per minute.

But it's so quiet here. Peaceful.

And he doesn't feel like Gojo anymore.

"Toshi?" You ask. It's enough to break the glass. Shards jab themselves into his brain, painful enough that he snaps out of it.

Gojo clumsily stumbles off the couch, frazzled, vulnerable. That's dangerous for the strongest. You pull back, concerned.

"Where-"

"Out." He spits like poison. "I'm going out."

What was he doing, Gojo thinks when he finally stumbles out the door. Everything looks so much different without the six eyes. Less clearer, he can't see the make up of things, he's no longer looking through that biological microscope.

Still, it's too much. He flinches against the blinding sun. Around him people don't give him a second glance. He's not used to that, not being the center of attention. Right, he isn't six feet and towering over everyone. Now, he's one in the crowd. One of a million.

He doesn't know where he is. Gojo knew he should've grabbed Sawai's phone but you were right there and everything gets so distracting when you're right there.

Even when he's away from you, the house, the quiet, he still can't stop thinking about it. It's irritating. He wants to claw out his brain, shred it to ribbon just so he can stop. He's Gojo. The strongest. He wasn't made to be this: pathetic, whimsical, human.

Gojo stops right in the middle of the street. Someone sends him a glare, but people pass him by. Nothing's any different. Cars and buses go down the road. People chatter. Kids run to school. Even when the strongest disappeared, the world still turned. Life goes on.

He keeps looking at his hands. Scarred. And yet you held them like they were gold itself. Precious beyond anything else. A touch that wasn't coated in deep lust and greed. He must be crazy. He must be touch-starved. Was he so pathetic that a warm breakfast and a touch of kindness from the wife of the body he had taken over enough for him?

Gojo thinks he starts walking again. He isn't too sure, but the next time he stops, he comes face to face with a train station.

Chiba, the words taunt him. It would take him less than an hour to get to Tokyo. Sawai has a little cursed energy, he could find the school. He could get this all sorted out.

And then, he could go back to his life. Killing curse after curse. One sleepless night after another.

Gojo needs to enter the station. He doesn't.

He thinks about his parents, of all things. Barely involved in his youth, far far away than he ever was. The bed was always cold. The night's were dark. And then, he thinks about little Reina, with chubby hands and fingers. When she cried, you came. This morning the bed was warm from you snuggled up next to him. He hadn't slept that well in years.

It's funny what a couple hours of humanity could do. He thought it'd be easy to leave behind. He hasn't been treated like a human for a long while. He thought the habit would be easy to shake.

There's a hand on his shoulder. He turns. You're there. Of course you are. With wide eyes, a concerned frown. You shake him a bit. He just stares.

"Toshi?" You call, looking around and Gojo realizes you don't even have the right shoes to be walking around.

"Where did you go? What are you doing?" You question, your tone sinking and spilling like caramel.

He gives no answer. Your shoulders drop.

"Come on." You murmur. "Let's go home."

You tug on his hand.

Satoru follows.

↻

"I'm taking you to the hospital." You tell him.

Satoru comes out of his daze when you speak to him. So far, you'd been talking quietly to a woman in her late forties, thanking her profusely. He zoned out after that, sitting on the couch, where you had left him.

"No." He instantly replies. "I'm fine."

"Fine." You repeat, a bite in your voice that he hasn't heard before. "You ran out, barely dressed, didn't even take your phone. You were gone for an hour. I had to call Miss Matsuda to watch Reina while I scrambled all over the streets looking for you. And when I did find you, you were staring at a train station sign."

You cross your arms over your chest. "And-and now, it's like you're not even concerned at what just happened! Do you know how worried I was? How scared I was?"

You're on him in an instant, barely an inch away. Satoru thinks he can stare into your eyes forever.

"Please, just...talk to me."

But he also knows he needs to fix this, because Sawai's heart is killing him.

He does what he wished he could have done with Suguru, all those years ago. For the first time in a decade, he gives into his inhibitions.

You're warm, and you sink into his hold, collapsing on top of him like it's all you've ever wanted. He tightens his grip on you, smelling your shampoo.

"I'm sorry." His voice is muffled but he knows you can hear him. "I didn't mean to leave you alone. I didn't mean to scare you."

"I was just being a jerk."

You're silent for a while. Satoru feels something wet seep into his shirt.

"Yeah." You say, quiet, damp. "You were a jerk. I wanna call you something else but Reina's right there."

He laughs. You do too, and then you lean off of him, taking his face in your hands so he can look into your eyes all over again. He finds himself leaning into touch. Maybe it's instinct.

"I wasn't scared of you." You say honestly. "I was scared for you. You've been acting strange all morning."

"I know." He answers. "But I'm fine now." You give him a look. "No really, I'm fine! I just...figured myself out. It took a while."

He's being selfish, plain and simple. Satoru was tired, exhausted. He just wants a break. The house is quiet. And he doesn't feel like Gojo anymore. Satoru decided that he's taking a break from being the strongest. He wants to see what normal people live like.

Maybe it's pettiness, but he's a little sick of constantly solving other people's problems. For once, he would let other people do the work.

And you're warm underneath his fingertips.

"What did you figure out?" You ask, settled right next to him.

In the background, Reina babbles something.

He shakes his head and closes his eyes.

↻

Being human has its perks.

Satoru doesn't get headaches anymore. Usually, just a couple of minutes without his blindfold is enough to give Satoru migraines. Its odd not having it on all the time, but he can get used to seeing things the way normal people see. Without the swirls of cursed energy.

The downside is that he can get hurt now. Even by a scrawny cat.

"Oka!" You scold as the bastard cat races down the hallway, out of site. Satoru hisses, flexing his scratched hand.

"What is up with him today? Let me see." Instantly, you're by his side, checking his palm. Satoru feels you're too close. Infinity doesn't keep you away.

He wonders if he'd even want to activate his technique with you around.

"It's not that bad." You mutter to yourself, dragging him to the kitchen. "Let's just clean it before it gets infected."

You sit him down on the kitchen stool. It creaks under his weight. Satoru watches as you dab a cotton ball with alcohol, before gently pressing it into his wound. You're so soft when you're touching him. Like you think you could accidentally break him somehow. He finds it cute. Satoru doesn't know why he lingers on your gentleness. It's probably because no one's ever treated him like he was fragile before. Something worth protecting.

But your protection isn't for him. It's for Sawai.

"I definitely expected some whining." You smile, placing a band-aide on his hand. "You were always so queasy when the aid-kit came out. Guess you finally got a pain-tolerance, hm?" You tease and Sawai gets more and more pathetic in Satoru's eyes.

You put the kit away, sliding off the stool. There are downsides of being human, but he thinks the upsides make up for it.

The cat definitely hates him, but he doesn't care about that. Satoru just wants the quiet. It's still peaceful.

That's interrupted when the baby starts crying.

Satoru can hear you in the other room, hushing her, trying to get Reina to settle down. She's been howling for the past ten minutes. Satoru doesn't move from the TV. It's not his place to do anything. He isn't Sawai.

"Okay favorite parent." He hears you grumble as you come out with a squirming Reina, still sobbing. "Your turn."

Before he can tell you no, you're already placing the child into his lap. Satoru freezes.

He's rarely around kids. All his students were independent teenagers. He doesn't think he's ever interacted with a baby, an infant, before. It's instinct to hold her, keeping her in his lap. He stares. Reina sniffles, her sobs quiet.

"Every single time." You scoff, but you don't sound very annoyed. "I don't get why she likes you more than me. I'm around more, aren't I?"

Reina is looking back at him, and he wonders who she's seeing. Her father, or the man who's wearing his skin?

The infant sniffles a little more. Her whimpers turn into coos, then shaky breaths as she slowly starts to settle in his arms. Satoru's never had anyone feel comfortable in his arms. His hands were meant to manipulate space and time. Destroy. He's killed curses with his hands. Humans too.

Little Reina falls asleep right in between them.

Satoru swallows. It feels so delicate. He can barely bring himself to move.

You sit right next to him, watching her.

"She's so cute when she's not being a demon, hm?" You ask. Satoru doesn't respond. You lean a little closer.

"Hey," you say, voice warm and when Satoru looks at you, you have soft eyes, "I can take her. I know you want to rest today."

"It's fine." Satoru speaks without thinking. "I got her."

You blink, but after a while, you move back. Satoru cradles Reina to his chest. She's soft, and he keeps an extra light hold on her because he's afraid one wrong move would crush her completely. Satoru can hear her soft snores, her light babbles. It doesn't break the quiet.

There's a weight on his shoulder as you settle in. You let out a content sigh, and Satoru feels something fill up inside of him, something that was once void.

"I feel like it's been a while since we've done something like this," you say, voice quiet, "just...sat together, watching her."

Satoru thinks back to the dark circles underneath Sawai's eyes, the weight gain from stress.

"Toshi?" You ask, and it's Satrou's habit to look back at you. "Have you ever considered Japan...might not be the best place for us?"

He stares at you.

"Japan is my home," he says, and he has a feeling Sawai would have said that too.

"I know." You smile. "It's mine too. But...is that enough reason to stay?"

You shift, leaning away from him and he misses your warmth. You rest your head against the sofa, propping your head up with a fist.

"I was thinking." You shrug, reaching over to pick lint off of his sleeves. "Maybe we should go back to my country. If it's work...my cousin works in the same industry as you. I'm sure he can find you something worth your time. I'm sure my parents would love to be closer to Reina, too." You reach up, brushing a finger against the infant's cheek. "We'd have a community, right?"

There it was. You were lonely. Home alone with an infant. Doing nothing but attending the house. You used to be a dancer. You were good at it. Satoru wonders how much you sacrificed for the man you called your husband. In some ways, you're a little like him.

There's no point in lying. He isn't Sawai, even as he holds Sawai's kid and Sawai's wife. In the end, he'd have to return to his body. This was a vacation. This was just a break.

"I'll think about it."

He agrees anyway, just to see you beam, like sunlight streaming through the window. You give him a quick kiss.

Satoru barely holds himself back from returning the favor.

Everything ends eventually. For Satoru, the end came later that evening.

There's a knock on the door. He's rising up to get it. Currently, you and Reina were out on a shopping trip. He wanted to go too, but you insisted he rested. Satoru expects mail, some kind of package.

Gojo Satoru stands in front of him.

Tall, wearing that black outfit, Satoru always used to wear. White hair up, blindfold covering blue eyes. It was a nearly perfect imitation of the real thing.

"Hi," Gojo says, voice frail and weak, "I-I think we need to talk."

Sawai is exactly what Satoru pictured. Timid, quiet, stutters through his sentences. He's still not used to his new body, angling it around, trying to sit on the couch with clear difficulty. Satoru manages to piece his story together after fifteen minutes or so. Everything was Sawai's fault, right from the start.

"Soul switching." Satoru says when Sawai's done babbling. "What an interesting technique. And you can't control it?"

Sawai's shaking his head. "Not really. It comes and goes by its own. I'm guessing you were in the area when it activated."

Makes sense. When Gojo gets his eyes back, he'll pick Sawai apart more thoroughly. At this point in time, the cause doesn't matter to him.

"Does anyone else know what happened?" Satoru asks.

Sawai shakes his head. Good. At least he was smart.

"No," Sawai says, "I didn't know who to trust."

"Good instincts." Satoru responds.

"Did you tell anyone?" Sawai asks and Satoru's offended that he had the audacity to even ask.

"No," he says anyway.

Sawai gives a sigh of relief. "That's good." He breathes. "My wife never knew about me, or anything about jujutsu sorcery. We met after I left the clan. Not sure how I'd even begin to explain something like this."

That's why the name Sawai felt so familiar. A minor family, with dwindling power, up in the country. They barely touch on politics these days. No wonder he left. Especially with a technique like that. It's pretty nifty, but if Sawai couldn't control it, then there was no point in harnessing it.

"So, how does the switching back work?" Satoru changes the subject.

At this, Sawai wilts.

"It's pretty simple," he starts, "we just touch. But it won't work right now. It has a downtime of 24 hours."

A time constraint technique. Annoying. Satoru strangely isn't as upset as he knows he should be.

"Hm, no point in doing anything, then." Satoru sighs, lounging on the couch. "So if you knew all that; then, what's the point of coming here?"

That causes Sawai to fidget. It's aggravating to look at. Satoru's eyes twitch. He hopes Reina doesn't get that. No, she should be more like you, warm and kind with eyes that look like the night sky.

"I missed them," Sawai finally says, "I missed my wife, my daughter."

Sawai stares at the shelves. He's looking at pictures. Of you. Of him. Of your daughter. Smiling and happy. Sawai looks years younger in those photos, but Satoru is sure those pictures were taken not too long ago.

Just then, right on his collar, on his pale, slender neck, Satoru catches a glimpse of something. It looks like lipstick.

Oh, Satoru realizes. That's why Sawai didn't come by sooner.

"Uh, we met a while ago. Not sure if you remember." Sawai starts, laughing sheepishly. "I think you were about 10 when I first saw you. It was back when I was still in the clan. I was a teenager, wasn't really even sure what we were there for. But I saw you. And-and I think you saw me. I just remember seeing lines and lines of servants surrounding you. You were barely taller than my hip, but the power you had already...." He clears his throat. Satoru stays silent.

"I was jealous. Really really jealous. Of a kid! I remember thinking 'if only if I were Gojo Satoru'. And now look." Sawai gestures to his new body. Perfect perfection. "And at first I was super excited...but then I slowly realized how lifeless the world was with these eyes."

His cold apartment. Messages from him that he reads over and over. A family that only sees him as a status symbol. No friends. It's just him against the entire world, for the entire world.

"Your life isn't all that great either." Sawai ends.

It's strange. All his life, the one thing Satoru always wanted was for someone to understand him. He got close to that once, but even back then he was deluding himself. Sawai was the one man who was finally able to step into his shoes, see from his eyes. The only person in the world who could ever come close to understanding him.

And Satoru hates him for it.

"Yeah," he says, the truth, "it isn't."

It's quiet for a couple more minutes. Satoru feels the time bleed into his skin.

"Gojo." Sawai starts. Satoru hums.

"I know you're not that kinda' guy, but..." Sawai trails off, biting his lip. "did you...with...?"

Satoru gets what he's trying to say. He grins, feigning cheeriness, shaking his head.

"Nah man, I wouldn't do that to you." He assures. "I didn't even touch your wife. Not my type."

And Sawai believes him. Satoru can see it in his body language, even if his eyes are covered or not. Satoru doesn't know whether or not to laugh.

“Thank you,” Sawai sighs, “and I—”

“We’re back!”

Both men turn. You’re shutting the door, the baby strapped to your hip, while groceries are in the other hand. Sawai freezes. Satoru rises up.

“I can take ‘em,” he offers, grabbing the bag.

You thank him, and then you glance at your real husband with a puzzled expression.

“Who’s this?” You ask. Reina giggles something.

Sawai opens his mouth.

“Hi...” The word is strangled on his throat. It sounded painful to speak.

You smile at him. Eyes warm, but there’s no recognition. You turn to Satoru.

“Who’s this, again?”

“A colleague.” Satoru is stepping in. “He was just leaving, I think, wasn’t he?”

He angles that question for Sawai. Who jumps in his seat. He babbles something, before finally settling on. “Yes—yes I was just leaving.” Even now, Sawai refuses to tell you, break you from that innocence. Satoru doesn’t know whether or not he’s stupid, naive, or both.

“Tomorrow morning.” Sawai tells him, just before he closes the door. Satoru gives a hum of acknowledgment, and the door clicks shut.

“What did he want?” You call from the kitchen, the infant tucked away on the high chair.

Satoru grins. “Just about work. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

Satoru finally brings it up after dinner. You’re folding the last towels, tucking them away in a drawer. Satoru watches you, the way your fingers work with delicate precision. Reina’s asleep, tucked away in her crib. The only people awake right now are you and him.

“Have you seen Oka around?” You ask. “I haven’t seen him since this morning.”

Satoru shrugs. “He’s probably skulking around somewhere. I wouldn’t worry about it.” He gives. You take it as an answer, going back to your task.

“Hey,” Satoru starts. “So, what’d you think of that man earlier?”

“Who?”

“Tall. White hair. Blindfold.”

“Oh.” You say, before thinking. “Nothing. But, I didn’t really expect someone like him to be your co-worker. I can’t see him doing a desk job.” Yeah, Satoru can’t either.

“Nothing else?” He prods.

You cast him an odd look. “No, not really. Why? What about him?”

The conversation is going nowhere. He gives up.

“Nothing.” Satoru finally says. You don’t accept it.

Instead, you turn around and watch him. Your eyes seem to pick up on something. A pretty smile graces your face, but Satoru feels something heavy form in his stomach.

“Oh my god. You’re jealous.” You gasp.

Satoru feels something hot build up on his face.

“No—”

“Yes you are!” You say excitedly. “It’s written all over your face! I’ve never seen you jealous before. I should take a picture.”

“That’s not it at all.” Satoru’s quick to say.

"The kid?" You laugh, bewildered. "How old is he? 25?"

"28." Satoru can't help but correct but you just laugh louder.

“A baby! God, you’re jealous of a baby.”

Eventually, your giggles subside. You stare at him with crinkled eyes.

“I am way too old to be messing around with 20-something year olds.” You assure, but your voice is teasing. “Besides, I’m interested in someone, right now. And I think it’s pretty serious.”

It’s a joke. You’re not talking about him. He averts his gaze anyway. You skip over, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“But that was extremely sweet.” You tell him. “You should get jealous more often.”

You did that again. Touch him. Without effort. Thoughtlessly.

Satoru doesn’t think he can hold back anymore.

This was your fault, he thinks, this was all your fault.

He grabs your waist before you can pull away. Soft, barely gives under his touch. You melt into him like butter, sinking and falling. He traces his hands up your hips, your chest, settling on the softness of your cheek. You let him, falling under his spell, the moment he touches you. He’s used to this. Eagerness, worship, but there’s something different in your eyes.

"What?" He asks.

"Nothing," you say, "you're just....really different, today."

He feels his heart quicken. "Don't like it?"

You take a second, and then you close the distance. "No, I like it."

You like it.

You love it

You love Satoru.

He kisses you like a hurricane.Pushing and biting, your gasps turn into hums and sighs when you follow his lead. Your hands reach up to his chest. He wraps his around your hips, making you walk back until your feet trip over the bed.

Satoru follows you down, never once pulling away.

“Oh my god.” You gasp when he sucks on your neck. “Toshi—toshi—”

It’s not him. This isn’t for him.

But it could be.

“No. “ He stops, stares into your eyes. “Sato.” He whispers . “Call me Sato.”

You stare at him, and Satoru is scared that you can actually see him. Peeling off his skin, seeing him for the sick man that he is.

“Sato...” You murmur.

He can’t stop himself. He doesn’t want to stop himself.

“Baby.” He breathes. “Fuck, baby. Need you.”

It’s easy to work off your top, throwing it somewhere in the room. He’s only caught a hint of your frilled bra before, but seeing it broadly displayed makes his mouth water. Blue. His favorite color.

It’s like you were made all for him. No one else's.

He just didn’t get to you first.

Satoru apologizes by kissing up your chest, to your neck. He marks you so it's clear as day. You trill in need and excitement, hands traveling across his shoulders, unbuttoning his shirt.

“Sato.” You repeat. “God, Sato.”

“Right here.” He assures. “Right here, baby.”

When he’s done with your bra, he feasts on your newly bared skin. It’s a pretty sight. Heaving tits, going up and down right before he pounces like a feral beast. You gasp when he sucks on your nipple. He bites, before moving onto the other. Your sweat is salty-sweet. He could drink the essence of you all day.

He wants to devour you.

And the sickest thing is that you’d let him.

Sato kisses down your chest, licking at the swell of your belly, before he’s meeting your shorts. He takes them off with little flare, close to ripping them off being he’s starving and you’ve been teasing him all day. That shake of your hips every time you’re meandering in the kitchen. You must have known what you’re doing to him. You wouldn’t be smiling so widely if you didn’t.

He licks you through your panties. You’re already wet.

“This all for me?” He knowingly asks, glancing up at you.

He expects you to shyly look away. Instead, you roll your hips into his mouth.

“All for you.” You coo. “Only for you, Sato.”

You have no idea what your words just did to him.

He finds it hotter keeping your panties on, so he leaves them, only pushing the crotch area to the side so he can get a better access to your pussy.

He isn’t shy. He’s more than happy to make himself known. You’re practically gushing all around him when he latches on your clit, swirling it around his tongue. You let out this sound he hasn't heard ever, sending it straight through his cock.

“Sato, fuck.” You grab his hair, pulling him even closer. “So so good, Sato.”

He licks up to the length of your pussy, letting your strength guide him along. A dark thought pushes its way into his brain. It quickly disappears in favor of your taste on his tongue. He’s drinking it like a man parched, trapped in the dessert, and you’re his salvation.

Your hips jerk, he stills your hips.

“Easy baby,” he says, voice muffled by your cunt, “I got you.”

“Sato,” you urge. “I cant’—I can’t. Please please please.”

“Wanna cum?” He asks, feeling a little malicious. “Wanna cum for me, pretty girl?”

You nod, and then you sob. His smile is evil.

“Beg for it.”

And you do. Your sweet sweet voice growing up in octaves when he obediently ramps it up until he’s tongue-fucking your hole. Your legs wrap around his neck, and Satoru thinks he’d happily die if it meant his last moments being this.

Eventually, you stiffen up, and then you sieze all over his tongue. Satoru gently takes you through your orgasm, watching when you fall back on the bed. You look at him, out of breath.

“Fuck,” you say, “where’d you learn to do that?”

He laughs, before climbing up your body to kiss your again. It’s slow, sensual, your tongues melting together as you taste what he’s been tasting for minutes. He hopes you think it tastes sweet too.

And because he can’t wait any longer, he’s pulling away to shuck off his pants. You giggle. He casts you a glance, but Satoru can’t find it in his heart to be upset.

Pushing down his boxers, he frowns.

It’s...disappointing, if he wants to say it lightly. Way smaller than his. What the fuck has Sawai been doing with you? No wonder you’re already so out of it.

It’ll have to do. Mainly because he’s so horny and he’d die if he isn’t inside of you at this very moment. And you’re sweet enough to help him, taking your legs apart, inviting him with knowing eyes.

“Ready baby?” He asks.

You nod, it’s all he can dream for.

He’s pushing himself in. You gasp, and he can feel everything. His sensitive cock jumps at your heat, the tight walls of your cunt practically bare down on him. He knows it’ll be next to impossible to fit his own dick.

He won’t stop though, not until he’s in all the way.

That’s the thought that gets him going. Rocking his hips back and forth. You’re edging him on with your ohs and Sato sato sato. Needy, needing him. A service he’s more than happy to provide.

“Breathe, pretty girl.” He tells you. “Almost there. We’re almost there.”

You whine in his ear, already impatient. God, he wants you. He wants this.

And he knows he can do better than him.

“Fuck baby, how bad is he that you turn so pretty in my hands, hm?” He asks. He isn’t looking for an answer. You’re barely paying attention to his words, eyes rolled back, close to tears. Just to torture you even more, he circles your clit with his thumb.

“Look at you. Bet he couldn’t do a goddamn thing with this limpdick, huh? Had—had to literally step aside, let a real man do the fucking.” He hisses, and you moan something he can’t decipher.

“Can’t blame ya’. This’s probably the first real fuck you’ve gotten in a while hm? Fuck—what would ya’ act like with some real dick?”

Satoru can imagine it. Him and you, nestled between his silk bedsheets. Him, bigger, stronger, pinning you down just like the way he knows you want to be. He won’t stop. He won’t ever stop. He’ll just keep fucking you and fucking you as you say Sato Sato Sato Sato—

When you cum for the second time, Satoru’s close behind. He collapses into you, feeling himself fill you up just like he should. You bite his earlob. He purrs in contentment.

But when he feels you still, he’s quick to rise back up, shaking you until you’re blinking at him.

“No baby.” He kindly says, feeling himself harden all over again. “We aren’t done yet.”

He wasn’t able to admire it the first time, but the second time around, he finally notices how pretty you are asleep.

Even when you’re sleeping, there’s a faint smile on your face. Your hair frames your face like a halo. Satoru isn’t religious, but he thinks its akin to watching an angel.

He’s watched you for hours now. He barely slept. Time was slowly running out.

And now, the sun’s starting to come out.

You’re so pretty. He doesn’t want to leave. Its almost torture to pull himself up, kiss you on the cheek, before tucking you properly in bed. You stir, but you don't wake. That’s relieving for Satoru. He doesn’t know if he has the strength to hold himself back.

This was nice. You were...nice.

But he had to be Gojo again.

The world can’t function without him. Jujutsu society would crumble. Curses would run rampant. He can’t risk it. His students, you, Reina, might get stuck in that.

For the sake of everyone, he closes the bedroom door behind him.

The prettiest girl in the world is sleeping too. Reina snored. Satoru almost laughed, but he held himself back. He didn’t want to wake her. After all, her mom had a long night.

As gently as he can, he tucks a tuft of hair behind Reina’s ear. She gurgles something, smacking her lips, and then stills again.

She looks nothing like Satoshi. Instead of being given his straggly straight hair, she was blessed with your curly locks. Her skin is deep and dark, matching yours perfectly. If her eyes were open, Satoru would see yours, warm and kind. You two even laughed the same.

Damn, even Sawai’s genes got cucked.

Satoru pats her cheek, and he promises himself to stop lingering. Even then, when he passes by one of Reina’s toys, he makes sure to pick it up, feeling the weight in his hands, before reluctantly placing it on a shelf. When he comes across your unwashed mug, he takes his time to put it in the sink.

He’s biding his time, even when he knows he can’t. He needs to be Gojo, not Satoru. He can’t be both.

....Why can’t he be both? The question stops him in his tracks.

What's stopping him from the best of both worlds? Why can't he have his cake and eat it too? What's stopping him from having this quiet in his life?

Himself. No one else is stopping him, but himself.

He isn’t Satoru. He isn’t Gojo either. He’s Gojo Satoru. The strongest. Who could fucking tell him no?

No one would dare make a fuss if he were to bring a foreigner non-sorcerer as his wife. No one would blink an eye if he adopted Reina. No one could. He’s pinnacles above humanity. He is the pinnacle of humanity.

He could have it all. Dominating jujutsu society, building up his students, you, your daughter. He could have everything he wants. It would be hard, but when has life ever made anything easy for him?

He’s sacrificed so much. He’s lost so much. He needs you. He deserves this. And he already knows he can make you happy.

If you’re lonely, he’ll make sure that his clan welcomes you with open arms. You’ll be treated like a princess. Reina would never want for nothing. He’d make sure she doesn’t even remember her biological father.

And Sawai...

Satoru can’t understand why a weapon like him is allowed to roam free. His technique is weak, but powerful, dangerous. He incapacitated one of the deadliest forces alive. With his technique, with how little control he has over it.

Others have been executed for less. Satoru will make sure of it.

Is it a bit over the top? Maybe. He knows Sawai’s enough of a mouse that he’ll just accept it if Satoru walks up to the bastard and tells him he’s taking his family. If he’s being honest, he isn’t all that mad about the body snatching thing, either. In any other case, he might even find it funny.

But he still remembers the marks on Sawai’s collar. He’d used Gojo Satoru’s looks to get cheap pussy, before deciding that he wanted to crawl back home to you.

Pathetic.

He shouldn’t even be allowed to exist on the same planet as you. Satoru won’t allow it.

And when he's dead, Satoru would be more than happy to play his part as a the acquaintance who just wanted to check up on you. Obliviously bring you closer and closer and closer until you're back in his arms.

Satoru can still taste you in his mouth. It'd be hard to wait for that again after having you, but you're someone worth being patient for.

He’s almost elated when Sawai shows up at the time they scheduled. He looks worse for wear, the stress of being Gojo is getting to him. Good. Someone like him should see what real problems are.

Sawai tries to exchange pleasentries. Satoru refuses to hear it. He stretches his hand out. Sawai does the same. Satoru closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, a short man with a balding head blinks timidly back up at him.

He’s back.

With his Six eyes, he can see you’re still sleeping. He makes sure to memorize the sight for his entire life.

“So, enjoyed being Gojo for a day?” He asks, if only to keep up the facade he doesn’t find the man absolutely pathetic.

A shy smile appears on Sawai’s face. He shakes his head.

“I guess my lesson is that I shouldn’t be too quick to judge.” He laughs. “We all have our own problems.”

“Right.” Satoru says, “Well, this was interesting. Take care of yourself, okay?” He waves, gallantly striding towards the door until he can’t hold himself anymore.

He sighs, tilting his head back dramatically.

“Y’know what man. I lied.” Satoru grins.

“I did fuck your wife.”

The last thing he sees before he slams the door shut, is Sawai’s baffled expression.

Gojo hadn’t expected to feel so satisfied, watching Sawai take his place at your husband, but he isn’t angry about it. Satoru stretches on the patio. It’s a pretty day outside. People are out and about. Birds are chirping.

Gojo catches a glimpse of a bushy tail before he’s reaching down to grab Oka by the scruff.

As expected, the bastard of a cat yowls, trying to claw at him. Oka recognizes him, a smart cat. Satoru smiles, unfazed. Infinity is back.

“Listen.” He tells the cat. "I'm gonna be your new daddy soon. So unless you wanna end up in the pound, you better warm up to me."

Oka hisses, but he doesn’t struggle anymore. Satoru gracelessly drops him back on the ground. Oka scampers out of sight.

Sawai clearly used Gojo’s usual chaffuer to get here. It saves Satoru from making the call himself. He opens the car door, before plopping in the back seat.

At the wheel, Ijichi gives him a look.

“Did you find everything, okay? You were only in there for a short while.”

Sawai had kept true to his word. Not even Ijichi knew about the switch. That’s a bit unfortunate. Maybe if more people knew about his technique, what he could do, it might save his life.

Sawai needed to stop being so naive. Satoru was more than happy to teach that lesson permanently.

“Yup!” Gojo Satoru chirped. “Got everything I needed.”

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yaptain

2 months ago

Reader accidentally getting married to a complete stranger (König) after a drunken night? With complete documentation and all.

Your head is pounding. Your throat feels like you were enjoying a light snack of needles and sand last night. Your pussy feels like you decided to fuck yourself with a baseball bat and came three times during it. There is a man in your bed - well, not even your bed, but a bed. A bed in a room that you do not recognise, with a man that you do not recognize. He has his hand thrown over your waist and you can spot a ring on his hand - fucking great, you slept with a married guy. Maybe, you could just slowly ease yourself from under his body and make. a quick run for your life before his wife is here, so... There is a ring on your finger. Same vintage design, maybe a bit more elegant. Giant diamond in the middle, making it look like something you definitely wouldn't want to wear on a daily basis. The guy snores quietly behind you, the outline of his muscular body makes you shiver with desire. So, you did sleep with a married guy. It's just that he was married to you. If you think that convincing Konig that it was all a drunk mistake and you should divorce as soon as possible so you wouldn't have any problems in the future, you're dead wrong. He already tied the knot, and he won't let you or anyone else untie it. Not in his books - he is going to take you home and sign all the required documents, so you'd have a hand on the property, and he already discusses how you'll give up on your job and become a full-time housewife for him. You thought it couldn't get worse, but the guy already calls you his darling, his dearest, and about three different pet names in German that you don't understand - but pretty sure it's something weird and perverted. Konig rolls over you again, his cock poking at your thigh. A newlywed high goes through your mind as he starts sucking on your neck again, renewing the hickeys already covering your soft skin. You ask if he is really serious about the whole wedding thing - and he says that once he saw you, he was certain that you will be worthy of his grandma's wedding ring. Jesus fucking christ...altough god isn't going to help you when your new husband is making you cum on his monster cock again.

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yaptain

9 months ago

Soft yandere Miguel O’Hara

cw: noncon, breeding, kidnapping, m masturbation, biting, SPOILERS. Headcanons and drabble. 1.4k words.

Mean dom Miguel is so hot, but I find that soft yan Miguel has so much overlap with canon.

This man still does all the sick and deplorable things a villain does, but in a way that's strangely tender.

I mean, you simultaneously have to be a sweet man and a stone-cold motherfucker to step in the shoes of your dead counterpart and con his family into thinking everything is fine. Like, he (eventually) fucked a dead man's wife, adopted his child, and seamlessly integrated into his shoes.

While certainly calloused, it also reveals a profound desperation for love and a willingness to do anything for it.

Enter you: a Spider from a random dimension that got caught up in an anomaly's destruction. Maybe your world was destroyed or it's emotionally difficult for you to return, so you end up spending a lot of time at HQ.

Miguel doesn't notice you for a while. There's hundreds of Spiders milling about the base, so it's only until you befriend Peter B and his baby that you get acquainted.

You draw him in without trying, no matter the walls that Miguel puts up. He needs to focus—everyone's very existence is at stake, dammit,—but by month five, you're the only thing he can think about.

His advances start off slow, bogged down by his own exasperation at himself. You're ordered to give in-person de-briefs in Miguel's office and get invited to lunch with him and Peter B, giving you the impression of an upcoming promotion. Miguel is as poised as ever, not letting a single stray emotion color his expression, and talks to you in an aloof, polite manner.

However uninterested he might seem, his insides tighten and flutter at your growing friendship. Every time you smile or secretly share a bemused look, he sinks deeper and deeper in his desire to have you.

Proximity-wise, Miguel vacillates between sitting next to you, close enough for your elbows to brush, and standing 30 feet away on his podium for the next week.

His involuntary, physical reactions startle him, and it becomes another contention he internally wars about. The second he thinks it's harmless to brush against you, it divulges into grabbing—cupping—pinning—fucking—ruining.

God, he fucking loathes the powerless feeling you inflict on him, but he doesn't have the strength to put an end to your friendship. He furiously jerks off after every meeting, biting into his hand to punish himself as he comes to the thought of you swollen with his child.

He thinks of all the deplorable ways to make you pay for causing these feelings, but he ultimately knows the blame lies within him. You see him as a boss and friend, nothing more. You would never intentionally drag him down to this state, so he bottles up all these feelings for your protection.

It takes a particularly bad mission for his control to break.

Whatever reservations he had about locking you in his bedroom evaporate when he sees you covered in blood and rubble. Protecting you from himself was one thing, but the thousands of universes?

You didn't realize what happened until you woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom, weary from pain medication.

He takes your fear, anger, and tears in stride.

While he can't shake his bitchy personality, his annoyance always fizzles out to mumbles and sighs. For months, he takes your verbal abuse and outbursts with resigned acceptance. Miguel didn't always like what he had to do, but he would commit any atrocity if it meant keeping you at his side.

He moves some of his work at home to spend more time with you, just content to occupy the same room while you adjusted to your new situation.

Your shared apartment is quiet most days, save for sporadic outbursts of rage from you, and Miguel daydreams about having a few little kids running around to fill the void.

He stares at you most evenings, watching you curled up on the couch pointedly ignoring him. Miguel thinks you wouldn't be so belligerent if you needed him for something, if you craved his presence and help in some way.

Miguel's mind always drifts back to his favorite fantasies on nights like these: you nine months pregnant and too big for anything other than his shirts. His eyes drift down to your stomach, to the place where you could make his dreams come true.

Patience is something Miguel prides himself on, which is why he puts up with the loneliness for nearly a year after bringing you home. You were given ample time to warm up to him and he's been nothing but kind. Every broken plate and spoiled food, every scratch across his face, every insult—he let you have your way in hopes that you'll eventually recognize him as your lover.

But no. You complained and struggled every step of the way.

Miguel could never hurt you, but he realized that more permanent and assertive measures had to be taken to make you see that you need and love him as much as he does you.

---

When he finally takes you, there's hardly any space between your bodies. There are months of touch starvation to make up for and Miguel is compensating all at once.

His entire 6'9" stature pins you to his bed, locking you between arms as large as your thighs. Miguel is the only thing you see or feel, as his hands caress every dip and curve of your body and his cock grinds against your slit.

With your legs helplessly hiked up around his waist and one of his hands pinning your wrists above your head, he makes love to you with a slow burning intensity.

Your fear and disgust are palpable, but between his sweet voice in your ear and his fingers somehow knowing the rhythm and speed to play with your clit, you're more wet than you've ever been.

"Shh, shh, mi cornazón. I have you." Miguel kisses your jaw, his cock rocking in and out of your aching heat with an agonizingly slow pace. "Just breathe steadily and let me take care of you."

He's too big inside of you, and your grunts of pain make him linger in place to help you adjust. When his stride picks up and the wet sounds of sex fill the bedroom, disgust roils in your stomach. Yet fuck, fuck, fuck, your body temperature rises with each stroke.

Miguel kisses you deeply, using his free hand to hold your head in place. He says, "It's time. I've been so patient. Be brave for me and take our baby."

He swallows your horrified pleading with another scorching kiss.

Your pussy clenches around his dick and your breath catches in your throat. Miguel hugs you tighter, his nose pressed into your hair as he angles himself just right. When the first waves of your orgasm make your head dip back, the sharp edge of fangs scratch your neck.

You barely register his mantra of, "Te amo," when his jaw clamps down on your shoulder. Blood spurts from between his teeth, and you cry out in confused pain as your orgasm shakes your body.

Miguel moans into your flesh seconds later, pumping his cum deep inside you. His thrusting is uncoordinated and rough, too blinded by pleasure to notice how powerful his pounding is. The mattress springs whine beneath you two, and you can only cry from the overwhelming treatment.

He milks every last drop of cum into your cunt before he begins to slow. Both of you gasp for breath, your chests heaving against one another's as sweat cools on your hot skin.

He keeps you plugged up for a while longer to give the conception time. His bloodied lips drag across the wound on your shoulder, peppering you with kisses as he trails red along your neck.

A sob shutters in your chest as Miguel runs a palm along your stomach.

"You'll understand soon. I promise. This will be the best thing that's ever happened to us."

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yaptain

6 months ago

AAAAAARHGGFFFHHNYH

Just some Gojo headcanons based on this post on @discogirlsclub page, and cause I miss him </3

part 2.

Gojo Satoru is the living, breathing example of fuck boy appearance with a loverboy personality.

Loverboy!Satoru tells you about how he gets around with his ever cocky smirk but feels his knees buck everytime you look into his eyes with a little more love in them

Loverboy!Satoru who swears he's not corny but then sneakily comes behind your back to cover your eyes and ask "guess who?"

Loverboy!Satoru who loses his "I don't give a fuck" attitude the minute you're not giving him the attention he wants and he's groveling and having his hand onto your waist all. the. time.

Loverboy!Satoru who stands by how good he's at flirting but yaps your ears off like a loser in front of you, all his skills in casual flirting going down the drain.

Loverboy!Satoru who gets pouty and dramatic like an idiot after you don't respond to his texts immediately, already yearning. (very unfortunate for the curses though who'll be the victims of his glum, dampened mood.)

Loverboy!Satoru who is the grossest, nastiest, freakiest person when he's in love but a literal pile of mush at the same time.

Loverboy!Satoru who sends a video of himself cumming at your service, as soon as you ask for it and he fists his cock while your name leaves his lips like a writ in a string of whimpers.

Loverboy!Satoru who'll eat your pussy until you're pushing him away with his cloudy white locks fisted in your hand, teary eyed and quivering thighs and he'll just look at you with a stupid pussy drunk grin on his face and pull away with a soft kiss on your clit and with a husky, "You're so sweet baby.."

Loverboy!Satoru who gives you the best aftercare, from gathering your hair up gently and putting them in a claw clip to picking you up princess style to settle you in the tub, pulling you against his chest as the warmth of the bath surrounds you both

Loverboy!Satoruwho settles on being the little spoon after the bath or buries his face into your tits after being the strongest all day.

No thoughts..just Loverboy Gojo Satoru..

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yaptain

3 months ago