Backshots With Eren Are Absolutely Lethal. Like, Just Imagine.

Do you have any miraculous smut fics that you recommend?

Yes, I do! Not sure if you've read these before but these are a few of my own personal all-time faves. Most of these are Adrienette bc that's mainly the pairing I read but I included some other love square ships too hehe.

Check the fics out under the read more!

Mix-Up: Adrienette, multi-chapter fic, completed. Really, really fun fic with a case of mistaken identities to boot!

tell me what you want so we can do just what you like by a_miiraculer and clairelutra: Ladynoir, one-shot, A/B/O. Omg I loved this lil one-shot! I tend to prefer reading Maribug as an Alpha but her being an Omega works sooo well in this fic!

Always Remember to Knock by AlyaSin: Adrienette, multi-chapter fic, completed. Fun lil Adrienette roommates AU bc I'm suchhhh a sucker for these two living together.

Allez Savoir Pourquoi and Amour Fou by Yilena: Adrienette, series, complete. I'm suchhh a sucker for this series omg. Soulmate AU with a lil bit of mistaken identities! Just so so fun!!

VIP Pass by thtzwhatuthink: Adrienette, oneshot. Aged-up Adrienette which is such a good, flirty read hehe. Plus the jacuzzi scene is 🥵

not so gentlemanly by breeeliss: Ladrien, oneshot. Good Ladrien PWP bc these two can never get enough of each other hehehe 😏

Very Close Friends and Spooky Scary Jealousy by Icedcoffeeslut: Adrienette, series, FWB. Yesss, I love this series bc jealous Adrien is the best esp when they're both pining for each other hehe.

double je by darkavenue: Marichat, multi-chapter fic, completed. Just some good, lovely, Marichat smut!

tongues of mortals and angels by Chiomi: Marichat, multi-chapter fic, completed. Marichat FWB AU bc I loveee realizations and pining hehehe.

Adulting by Lara Winner: Marichat, Adrienette, oneshot. Suchhh a good Marichat fic omg. Plus Adrienette are married in it which is always a good bonus :)

Inside of You by Lara Winner: Adrienette, multi-chapter, WIP. Realllllyyy good Adrienette fic omg. I loveeee Adrien's reactions in this fic it's soo good.

Sunshine's Awakening by LadyRhiX: Adrienette, multi-chapter, WIP. Innocent, oblivious Adrien ftwwww. I just love how sweet and also sinful Adrienette are in this!

once more, with feeling by zimtlein: Enemies-to-lovers love square, multi-chapter fic, completed. Oooffff this fic just destroys meeee. The pain of knowing Adrien's being manipulated by his father whilst also overwhelmingly in love with Marinette is crazy.

Wild Abandon by ZiriO: A/B/O love-square, multi-chapter fic, WIP. One of my absolute favorites for this trope hehe. I just love how smitten Adrien is with Marinette.

In Heat by EikaTsukiyomi: In heat love-square, multi-chapter fic, WIP. One of my all-time faves omg. This fic is so so so good!! Especially bc of how clueless our two leads are heheh.

one night of moonlight by calloffyourethics: College AU, Adrienette, one-shot. Probably my all-time fave fic haha. I've read this fic sooo much omg. The characters are sooo in-character and lovely. Plus I just love that they both know whilst the other doesn't know that they know hehe.

Hope that you liked these and that there were some in here that you hadn't read before! It was fun doing this hahah. Plus, I got to revisit some of my old faves 💞

A Favour | Bakugou Katsuki

Pairing: Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki x Sidekick f!Reader Warnings: 18+ minors dni, all characters are aged up, porn with feeling, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, pretty vanilla tbh Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: To avoid being pestered by his mother about his practically non-existent love life, Bakugou asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a weekend trip to his parents’.  But what happens when you both harbour long buried feelings for each other?

a/n: Written for @kenzumekodma​‘s AUdvent Collab.  I chose two of my favourite cliche tropes: Fake Dating + Only One Bed.

Also a big big thank you to @kingkatsuki​ & @crytalstellar​ for being my betas, and @super-predictable98​ for being my constant cheerleader!

Bakugou Katsuki was screwed.  He knew he shouldn’t have answered that phone call from his mother.

Now he sat at his desk, fuming, desperately trying to come up with a solution to the trap he’d just gotten himself into.

——

“Katsuki, you haven’t come to visit in forever!  I know you’re busy saving the world and everything, but surely you can take one weekend off to see your ailing parents, you ungrateful cur!”

Ungrateful cur?!

“Ailing, my ass,” he’d grumbled, before reluctantly agreeing — it wasn’t like he didn’t have enough sidekicks to keep the place running in his absence for a couple days.

“Perfect!  Oh, and I was thinking about inviting someone for you to meet while you’re here.  She’s just the loveliest girl, I think you’ll like her.”

Not another set up!

Bakugou growled.  He’d lost count of how many women his mother had tried to match him up with in the past year and all of them were insufferable.  Without thinking he’d blurted out the first thing that’d sprang to his lips, instantly regretting it as soon as he’d realized he’d only traded one problem for another.

“I’m already seeing someone!”

“Really?  I almost can’t believe it!  Why don’t you bring her with you then, we’d love to meet her!”

Shit, shit, shit.

Keep reading

can't stop thinking about quirk marriage au! with tenya iida.

with villains becoming stonger as the years go on, the iida family realise they will need to toughen up if they want their future generations to stand a chance at becoming decent heroes. especially after what happened to tensei.

to preserve their prestigious lineage, they arrange a quirk marriage for tenya, with a reader whose quirk is related to stamina or durability, in hopes to bear offspring who are both fast and hardy. reader comes from a poor background so they agree in exchange for money to support their family.

at first the marriage feels very much like business and tenya treats it as such; respecting you as much as he would a co-worker. which, albeit, is a lot but he doesn't care about you the way a husband should. he opens doors for you and will help you with household chores and is generally nurturing during your pregnancy, but he has no interest in sharing a bedroom or even eating dinner together. because he may be the father to your child, but he's not your friend.

it goes on like that for a while, until one day he hears you crying in your room. he's not monster, so of course he checks on you to see what the issue is, and you explain to him that you're afraid of what will happen if your child doesn't inherit a composite quirk. if you would be replaced and left to care for it on your own. he reassures you that he'd never abandon you or his child, and that the two of you could always try again. success doesn't come easy.

however, the moment of vulnerablitiy he shared with you was exactly that — a moment. afterwards, he immediately went back to being stern and distant, which contributed you putting up walls to protect your feeling from if he were to ever disappoint you again in the future. like a mantra that repeated in your mind constantly, he doesn't love you and you don't love him.

he never picked up on your increased resistance though, not until three years after the birth of your child and they began displaying signs of a fusion quirk. he turned to you, delighted, and you appeared relieved too, but he was left gawking incredulously after you said, "how lucky. thank the lord we don't need to have another child. one was hard enough."

hearing that caused his heart to drop, as he realised who he had become and the cumulative impact his behaviour has had on you. how could his own wife depise him to that extent? this question haunted him because he knew the answer, he just never had the strength to confront it before.

he had to do something to fix it, now. loving him wasn't necessary, but he needed to prove to you his worth as a father and a husband. he did his best to attend every single one of your kid's baseball games with you, he'd buy you a new bouquet of flowers every week, he'd kiss you on the cheek as a show of affection, whenever you needed a self-care day he'd arrange time-off work, he'd take the family out to the aquarium and the zoo and disneyland and wherever you pleased.

but none of it was ever enough to penetrate your rigid defences. despite his best efforts, he was left with a wife that hates him and child that may grow up to resent him. what a legecy he has paved.

one night, he is sat in bed, doing some light reading before he goes to sleep, when his child sulks into the room. they explain they had a nightmare and want to sleep in their dad's bed tonight. of course tenya agrees and usually there isn't any problems, but tonight the child continued to stir, until they requested, "can mommy sleep here too?"

tenya blinked. usually he would bend over backwards to cheer up his kid, especially as they are having sleep troubles, but this is a bit more complicated as you might be opposed to the idea. however, there was no harm in trying, so tenya sent the kid to your room to ask if it was okay with you.

and of course, you adore your child with everything you have, so if sleeping with your useless husband is what it takes to help them rest soundly, then so be it. you trudge into tenya's room and plop down on the queen-sized bed, with your beloved baby nuzzled between you two. it actually wasn't as awkward as you initially thought, and all three of you are lulled off into the serene night.

tenya woke up before you, so he was the first to realise that your child had snuck off in the middle of the night, while the two of you subconciously cuddled each other. hence, he had you wrapped in his strong arms, with your face nuzzled into his chest.

even with bedhead and a bit drool smudged on your cheek, he thought, you were still so beautiful. so much so, he couldn't help but smile and protectively tighten his grip on you. so funny too. sarcastic yet sickeningly sweet and caring.

had things been different, he wondered if the two of you would've truly been in love. he reckons so; you really are his type, and the perfect girl, which is something he's realising all too late. he blames the circumstances and wishes more than anything that the two of you could've met organically, because although he isn't the best husband, he would give anything to have been your boyfriend.

Warnings: smut w/o plot, Bakugo jacking off, se*ual fantasies, male orgasm, ejaculation

Summary: you're Bakugo's roommate, and although you hardly ever interact, Katsuki secretly develops intense feelings for you. Unable to gather the courage to confess, he silently admires you from a distance — until the day he stumbles upon your OnlyFans account

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

Living with Bakugo Katsuki was always an unpredictable ride. He was a walking firestorm - intense, brash, and always on the edge of exploding. But after a few months of sharing an apartment with him, you’d come to realize something: Bakugo wasn’t just a chaos incarnate. He was meticulous, sometimes even thoughtful, and despite his rough edges, he’d never once crossed any boundaries.

You’d gotten the room through your mutual friend, Kirishima, and Bakugo had agreed reluctantly. 

From the very beginning, he’d kept his distance - never really speaking unless necessary, and most of the time he stayed in his room, went on missions or trained late into the night. 

You could feel his eyes on you sometimes, though, watching silently, like a predator sizing up his prey. But whenever you looked, he was back to his usual aloof self.

What you didn’t know was that Bakugo was harboring a dangerous attraction to you. He’d never admit it, not to you, and definitely not to himself. You were out of his league. Too sweet, too gorgeous, and the very idea of being vulnerable enough to confess his feelings made him grit his teeth in frustration. He'd fantasized about you countless times though - his imagination running wild with ideas of what it would feel like to claim you. But he buried those desires deep, thinking you'd never look at him the way he wanted.

That was, until one night.

Bakugo had come home late from a mission, exhausted but restless. After a shower, he threw himself onto his bed and mindlessly scrolled through his phone, his thumb hovering over the OnlyFans app. He opened it to unwind, expecting to see the usual faces he followed. 

Katsuki wasn’t the type to do things halfway. Whether it was in battle or in bed, he always gave everything he had. He liked control, craved it, and when it came to sex, that desire for dominance only amplified.There was something about seeing his girls completely undone - driven to the point of exhaustion, their minds hazy and bodies twitching from overstimulation - that made his blood rush straight to his meaty, veiny cock. He loved it. Loved fucking them stupid, pushing them until they were too weak to even move, taking them apart piece by piece until they were nothing more than a quivering, overstimulated mess. He'd fuck them hard, in the deepest, most mind-numbing positions that left them gasping for air, so lost in the pleasure that they couldn’t think straight. And when he was done, when he was satisfied and had cum deep inside them, he’d sit back and admire his work - the way his cum would slowly dribble out of their abused, slippery holes, their bodies so spent they couldn’t even squirm at the discomfort. That sight alone was enough to make him hard all over again. 

Not everyone could keep up with him. He knew that. His sex drive was relentless, and sometimes, it was easier to find that satisfaction elsewhere - somewhere he didn’t have to hold back or deal with the aftermath. Because that was the thing about Bakugo Katsuki - he didn’t just fuck. He conquered. 

That’s why he liked OnlyFans. It was a place where he could explore the things that got him going without any strings attached.

Bakugo liked to watch. He followed plenty of girls there who reminded him of the kind of sex he liked to have - the ones who weren’t afraid to push their limits, who would ride their toys until their legs were shaking, their eyes fluttering in that tell-tale sign of pleasure that had turned to something far more intense. The girls who let him imagine fucking them so stupid, until they couldn’t even think, until all they could do was huff and puff his name into the mattress, their bodies boneless, overwhelmed, claimed his.

Upon spotting a familiar figure suggested in his feed, he felt his entire body go rigid.

It was you.

No fucking way, he thought to himself, eyes wide in disbelief. There you were, posing in a barely-there lace bra and panties, your lips curved into a teasing smile. You looked so different - so confident, so seductive - nothing like the girl he passed by in the hallway every day. His cock immediately stirred, blood rushing south as he continued to stare, unable to believe his eyes.

Bakugo's mind raced, trying to process the image. You had an OnlyFans? Fuck, that’s hot. The realization hit him like a truck - he could actually watch you, see more of you than he'd ever imagined.

Without thinking, he subscribed, and a moment later, a notification popped up: “New subscriber: ExplosiveKing.”

His cock twitched at the sight of your next photo - a close-up of your tits spilling out of the lacey bra, your nipples hard and pushing against the fabric. Then came a greeting message, and Bakugo almost dropped his phone when he saw it.

Thanks for subscribing, handsome ♡ Hope you enjoy the content! 

You even attached a photo of you in nothing but a thong, your ass up and face turned towards the camera with a playful wink.

He groaned softly, his cock already straining against his boxers as he stared at the image, replaying every interaction you two had ever had. All the tension, all the moments he pushed away, came rushing back in an overwhelming wave of desire. His dick was dribbling more precum into boxers, the fabric going from damp to soaked quickly as he feverishly sought his release.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, already palming himself through his Kalvin Clein boxers. His left hand reached down, cupping his dick through his pants. "Nnnnhhh," he couldn't stop the soft and breathy moan that escaped him as he flipped his dick up, into a more comfortable position. His hips were already pushing forward, into his hand. He needed more.

His fingers fumbled as he tugged his boxers down, needing relief as he gripped his length, hard and throbbing. His breathing grew heavy, and within seconds, his rough hand was wrapped around his cock, the image of your perfect ass burning in his mind. He pumped himself slowly at first, his imagination running wild. He couldn’t stop thinking about how you lived just a few feet away from him, and here he was, jerking off to your nudes. 

"Shit, you're perfect," he muttered under his breath, eyes glued to the screen as he pumped his cock. He imagined your hands on him instead, the way your soft lips would feel against the tight skin on his rock-hard cock, the sound of your breathy, sloppy moans in his ear. His grip tightened, matching the pace of his fantasy, biting his lip to muffle the groan threatening to escape.

As he stroked himself faster, the guilt began to fade, replaced by raw, animalistic desire. You’d never know. And hell, if you were posting this shit for other guys to see, then why not him?

It didn’t take long before he was groaning your name under his breath, imagining you on top of him, your tight body grinding down on his cock. The idea of having you - right there, in the flesh - made his pulse race. His fist moved faster, eyes squeezed shut as he pictured the way you’d look riding him, those soft lips of yours gasping for breath as he filled you up with his meaty dick.

His imagination ran wild - your pretty face, your tits bouncing as he fucked you senseless, the way you’d cry his name. That thought alone sent him spiraling, his cock twitching. With a low growl, Bakugo came hard, hot ropes of cum spilling onto his hand as he panted, chest heaving. He kept pumping, riding the high of his orgasm, but even as the pleasure subsided, he couldn't get you out of his head. 

For a moment, guilt flickered in the back of his mind again. You were his roommate. Hell, you were always so nice to him, always sweet and considerate. And here he was, jerking off to your pics in secret. But as his phone buzzed with a new notification, that guilt quickly dissolved into something primal. 

You had just started a live stream.

Bakugo's cock twitched in his hand again as he opened your stream. 

You were sitting on your bed, wearing a cute little lingerie set that clung to your body in all the right ways, thigh-high stockings completing the look. His breath caught in his throat as he watched you adjust the camera, giving everyone a perfect view of your body. "Hey, cuties!" you chirped happily, the camera lighting up with your playful smile as more viewers trickled in. "Hope you're ready for some fun tonight!"

ExplosiveKing: Damn, doll, you look fucking amazing tonight

"Aw, thank you, ExplosiveKing!" you giggled, reading his comment. "So sweet of you to join!"

Hearing you say his username in that sexy, cheerful voice of yours set something off in him. His eyes darkened with lust as he started stroking his slobbery cock again, the thought of you calling out to him making him harder than ever.

You started off slow, teasing your viewers with gentle touches, running your hands over your body as you spoke sweetly to them. But when you pulled out the vibrator, Bakugo nearly lost it. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his pulse racing as he watched you slip the toy between your legs, letting out soft moans as you teased yourself.

He couldn't take his eyes off you. Every little gasp, every roll of your hips - it was driving him wild. He matched your pace, fucking his fist like he was fucking you, imagining how your pussy would feel clenching around him.

Then, as if reading his mind, you slid the vibrator inside your already sopping pussy, your breath hitching as you moaned for your audience. 

Bakugo bit his lip hard, stroking himself faster as he imagined what it’d be like to have you under him, begging for his cock. His grip tightened, pumping his length in time with your movements, chasing that high again. 

It happened so quickly that his brain barely registered the exact moment.

His cum surged up through his throbbing, overstimulated cock in powerful spurts, spilling and bubbling from the slick, swollen tip, leaving a thick trail of pearly semen coating his hand and seeping through his fingers as Katsuki moaned your name. 

The young man fervently hoped you hadn’t overheard him from your bedroom.

Weeks passed, and Bakugo’s obsession with you only grew. He watched every stream, donated more than anyone else, and even bought his first sex toy - a pocket pussy - just to mimic fucking you when you used your toys on camera. Every Wednesday and Friday became his ritual. He’d lock himself in his room, pull out his laptop, and jerk off until his cock was raw and spent. Sometimes he'd cum three or four times in a single stream, completely lost in the fantasy of you.

But as much as he enjoyed it, it started to get under his skin. The other men watching you, the ones leaving comments and drooling over you - it pissed him off. You were his. He hated knowing they were getting off to you too, even though you were right there, living with him, just down the hall.

One night, after one of your streams, you noticed something unusual - ExplosiveKing had donated more than usual. 

There was a short comment attached to the donation:

"You have a way of getting under my skin like no one else. No matter how many others are watching, you’re mine in a way they’ll never understand."

And honestly? You didn’t mind. Among all your fans, he stood out as your favorite - dedicated, generous, and mysterious.

What you didn’t know, though, was that the man behind the screen was Katsuki Bakugo, your roommate. That the same explosive hero you lived with was jerking off to you multiple times a week, falling deeper into his secret obsession with every stream.

He wasn’t merely your biggest fan - he was the man who longed for you entirely to himself, who fantasized about fucking you dumb every time he heard your sweet voice. For now, Bakugo remained hidden in the shadows, silently worshiping you from his bedroom, awaiting the day he would muster the courage to reveal just how desperate he was to be your boyfriend.

pornstar!choso has a curated look that throws off a lot of his costars. strong build, straight-set face, hands made to choke and tear… most of those he film with don’t expect to be doted on the entire time.

people joke that pornstar!choso falls a little bit in love with every costar he fucks or gets fucked by. that glossy look that always pulls at his face by the time a scene ends, how his lip trembles with a need to be kissed raw when he cums. he says it's just the bliss of his orgasm—that he gets emotional in the moment, but it doesn't mean anything. well, until he meets you.

pornstar!choso who looks you up before his shoot because your name sounded vaguely familiar when it left his agents lips. he could have sworn you'd fucked before, because when he rolls the syllables of your name on his tongue they're nostalgic and taste like the sweat and laboured breaths of a long night between satin sheets. had you shot a scene together before? or had it been a one night stand?

pornstar!choso who realises that no, he hadn't slept with you before. but the familiarity of your name isn't a coincidence—he's fucked his fist to your videos more times than he can count. your name hits him like lightning, he had typed it into his search bar late in the night, cock hard and in need of instant relief. it's almost scary how well he knows you, what sounds you make when you get close to cumming, how you often arch your back and try to run from the overwhelming pleasure, how your eyebrows knit together when you're feeling so good it almost hurts.

pornstar!choso who realises with a now-red face that you probably don't have a clue who he is, and yet he's cum in time with you for months now. he's pretty sure he's drained his wallet at least twice on your cam shows... what if you recognise his name and piece it together with his username that he donates under? he debates cancelling the shoot, faking covid to get some time at home to hate himself endlessly.

but pornstar!choso realises that this is his chance to get to know how you really feel. he's imagined it so many times, as he fucked fake pussies or his closed fist using spit or his own cum as lube. you'd be warmer, undoubtedly tighter... so much prettier. and he wants to know more: would you prefer to take control and turn him into the toys he so often pretends are you? would you lay back all pretty and let him ruin you on his cock? how deep could you take him he knows he's big but you seem so eager, would you take him to the base with ease or would he have to force it in? bully your pretty pussy until it stretches to his shape?

pornstar!choso who hates the fact that your first, and possibly only, time together would be in front of a production crew and under the unsympathetic lights of a porn set. but he'd fuck on a stage in front of thousands if it means a taste of you.

pornstar!choso who makes it to the shoot before you do, comes ten minutes early to settle his anxieties and get a feel for the scene ahead. the director tells him its a simple shoot, that choso is meant to let you ride him for a while until you pull off and suck his cock for a nice close-up facial shot. the way the director speaks so clinically about sex with you makes choso grimace, he feels pathetic for feeling like this. like he'll be a changed man after feeling you around his cock, which is already painfully hard.

pornstar!choso who hates himself for stumbling over his words when he meets you. he wishes he had never looked you up, though he doesn't doubt seeing your pretty face like this would have wrecked his confidence regardless. you're kind, greet him with a shy smile as if he isn't about to slip balls deep inside of you.

pornstar!choso who, once he has you sitting on top of him on that bed—cameras pointed dutifully as you start to play your role and hike your skirt up so you can sink down on his cock—he can't handle the thought of fucking you like it's nothing, like it's not been the crux of his fantasies in the dark hours at night.

pornstar!choso who, probably to the detriment of his career, pushes you backwards onto the bed and connects his lips to yours in a kiss that surpasses every single fantasy he's had in his mind. you taste good, and he wants more. he speaks against your lips, asks whines a question that makes your stomach coil. 'can i eat you out first? please?'

pornstar!choso who is chided by the production team as he gets his head under your skirt and laps at your pussy in the most desperate act of need he thinks he's ever displayed. those that claim he falls in love with each shoot would be wholly correct in this case: he is in love with the taste of you, with the way your legs trap him in and ask for more. he could eat you for hours, run his tongue from your clit to dip it inside of you in reverence of the goddess he believes you to be. and you laugh at the absurdity of his hunger, at the courage it takes to run off script, and the pure need in which he eats you out.

pornstar!choso who only stops once the director threatens to cut the scene entirely. his cock hurts with how hard it is though, and he thinks the redirection of blood has made him lightheaded, because when he's made to sit back and let you sink down onto his length he swears he meets god.

pornstar!choso who can't help his whines as you ride him, an addiction already laying down roots in his brain. he has to try and think of anything less godly than you to hold on to his orgasm though, because the combination of your body and having subconsciously trained himself to associate you with climaxing is all too strong, and he's a hairs breadth away from cumming prematurely and ruining the scene.

pornstar!choso who realises as you continue, however, that your moans arent the same as he's heard them before, though the speakers of his phone. you're more breathy with him, your moans are less honeyed, more raw—as if coming from your chest rather than your throat. he wonders for a moment if he's not good enough, if you're having to fake your pleasure to save face for the cameras. but you're soaked, and even above the sounds of your shared pleasure he can still hear the squelch of his cock rutting in and out of you.

but before pornstar!choso can question himself further, your eyes are widening and you're latching a hand onto his throat as your pace increases. he can feel the way you tighten impossibly around him, the way your hips stutter and your pupils blow out with lust—you're cumming. and of course he remembers his instructions, to let you climb off of him and take his load over your face... but you're not climbing off of him.

pornstar!choso who understands the pointed look you manage to give him, that it's your turn to bypass the scene direction. you want to be greedy, to feel him finish inside of you, even through the confines of a condom. your moans arent fake, they're the first real ones you've let sound on a porn set—and choso is pulling them from your lungs like a choir's conductor.

pornstar!choso who can't last a minute longer, now with the way you lean in and coax him to climax with your voice, the soft praise that leaves your lips is an aphrodisiac and all too powerful. he sees stars when he cums, full blown galaxies too complex to imagine. call it an out-of-body experience or not, but choso is lost in his orgasm for long enough to warrant you bringing him back down with a soft kiss to his lips. he looks sinful: his hairs come loose, messy and stuck to his forehead. his eyes, though, are what's going to be the subject of a few screenshots taken by his fans: he looks totally infatuated.

pornstar!choso who, after taking a few minutes to settle himself after the shoot, watches as you walk over to him, a very pretty smile pulling at the corner of your lips before you lean down and peck his lips goodbye. he assumes it's the last he'll see of you, that there's no way he's worthy of every tasting you again. that night, he's scared to brush his teeth, to lose the way you linger on his tongue.

pornstar!choso who debates fucking his fist to the memory of you in bed that night. he thinks you've ruined masturbation for him, or sex in general: nothing could quite be the same. and as if its a sign from god that he's done enough good in his life to deserve some positive karma, his phone dings.

a photo of you, a pretty vibrator laid over your stomach. your laptop open in the background, his porn playing on the screen.

attached, a message that makes the poor boy cum in his pyjama bottoms. 'lets meet up again. i want to tie you up and film how stupid you get with a vibe strapped to your cock—a movie just for us, though. no audience.'

pt 2 in the works :p

Does that mean you want someone to piss on or in you? 🤭

both! particularly as a punishment

“DIRTY LAUNDRY” — 𝑔𝑜𝒿𝑜 𝓈𝒶𝓉ෆ𝓇𝓊

[ ᴛᴡ ]・mdni, fem!reader, 4.8k wc (didn’t plan for that ;-;), established relationship (you’re married :D), satoru being forced to do household chores (the horror), your husband is sick in the head...for YOU, panty sniffing, inappropriate use of underwear, masturbation, no p in v, domestic and disgustingly sweet i would say (sorry heh), lowkey selfship coded bc i would so go off on this man to do work around the house LOL, extra of the aftermath at the end (satoru gets in trouble), not much banter + more so yelling (on your part aha), the only person he fears in the world is YOU, pretenses may be messed up

[ ᴀ/ɴ ]・divider by @/cafekitsune

In a whole year, there is only one day out of all the three hundred and sixty five days during which the earth completes its entire revolution around the sun that Gojo Satoru, the Strongest, despises with a passion — Cleaning Day.

No, there is not a designated day around the world in which all people drop whatever they are doing just to deep clean their entire house, but in the Gojo household, unfortunately, there is. And maybe it is because you, his wife, are his world, so the event feels bigger than it actually is. Though, even with this seemingly romantic sentiment, the poor man feels shivers run down his spine just thinking about what was soon to come.

Do not get him wrong — Satoru loves his home, and only because you occupy the space and fill it with your warmth through every smile you grace him with. He loves how you adorn and furnish it, how you make it yours as the rightful Mrs. Gojo. There was not a single area which did not have the trace and essence of you, his darling wife. Your husband takes into account everything you do, and therefore, notices even the smallest things out of place. He is fulfilled and endeared with the knowledge that his woman has been there, and his woman has indeed made the decision that the strange ball decor you are so fond of and chose to put in a designated area on the shelf in the hallway would no longer be in its usual spot, but five inches to the right of it — and simply because you wanted it there.

You were a little weird like that, but it filled him with immense joy that you were weird about the place you share together and call home. And he, in turn, is very weird about you — something he will prove time and time again. You have a certain flair, a touch that lingers around this place that is so uniquely you. This, unfortunately, also applies to cleaning just the same. Most people have normal fears — spiders, heights, the dark. But Gojo Satoru’s is firstly, his wife, and secondly, a little black smiley face drawn in sharpie with the words ‘Cleaning Day!’ written right beside it which you mark on the calendar to remember. In all truth, he thinks the color of the marker you chose is symbolic in representing the terror and trauma that comes with the day.

Okay, maybe he’s being a little dramatic, but your dearest husband could be walking past the wall where the calendar was hung — and then? His body will have a visceral reaction. He’ll become visibly tense and turn pale. He doesn’t even have to look, he can feel its presence like a ghost. It is accurate if he does say so himself, because that is what Cleaning Day is to him — a ghost, a shadow come to torment him, always lurking and lingering before slowly but surely approaching before you even realize it.

Even so, no matter how much distaste your husband holds towards something so inanimate — there is not a single day that goes by where he does not love and adore you to the fullest. Perhaps that is why you put up with him all the time, because you know the extent of his love for you even when he’s being absolutely insufferable (which he knows himself is all the time). But he also knows this — whenever he is with you, anything and everything is somehow bearable. When he’s by your side and heeding your commands, he is the happiest, and Satoru has no problem spending the rest of his life being told what to do by you and you alone... even if it’s chores too, he guesses.

Though, even with that in mind, still, another thing he didn’t look forward to today, to top it all off, is the tensions that came between you two because of all the stress — and not the hot kind!

“Honey,” you peek in, calling out to your husband by the doorway of your shared bedroom, drawing his attention with your saccharinely soft voice.

There it is.

The trap.

Satoru prepares himself, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t wanna!”, he whines back almost immediately, hiding under the cozy covers that smelt like you, hoping the bed would suck him right in and he’d disappear. You hadn’t spoken on your true intentions yet, trying to butter him up first. It wouldn’t work though because he knew, he always knew.

Your smile strains into something unnatural and scary.

“Stop playing around and get up!” You snap, dropping the act, approaching quicker than the speed of light and ripping the blankets off of him, annoyed you had to play this game of cat and mouse every single time.

Satoru flinches at your tone in exaggeration, straightening up and out of bed like a soldier called to duty. You roll your eyes at his antics. Why did he always feel the need to be so dramatic? Actually, never mind — this was your husband you were talking about.

Crossing your arms, you give him a scrutinizing once-over which would usually have his dick up in no time (it still does) before heaving out a sigh, turning on your heel gracefully as you do and padding out of the bedroom and down the hall, expecting him to follow. He does, albeit, like a kicked puppy rather than the powerful sorcerer everyone knows him to be, and all because of his very, very mean wife — who wasn’t mean all the time, just specifically when he was being lazy or leaving his stinky socks around the house.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You tut in disapproval. Satoru can still tell you care, from the way your brows knit together and your eyes soften just a bit at his fitful demeanor. Your voice grows a tad gentler now. “You’re in charge of the laundry, okay? I left the basket over there —”, you point somewhere to the ground, assigning him with his own special task, but he finds himself barely paying attention to anything (except for your ass that was swaying rather temptingly in front of him).

Cerulean blue stares after you, and he opts for hugging himself like the very definition of a pouty child who had gotten a rather harsh scolding from his parents, sliding his way childishly towards the living space, his Cinnamoroll slippers chafing loudly against the floors. White brows furrow, and Satoru’s eyes widen with his classic pitiful look when you turn your attention to the carpets, switching on that dreadfully loud machine which has even the cat running leaps around the house in fear (of your wrath and said machine). He couldn’t help but be on the same page with his sworn enemy more than today.

“Stupid laundry…”, he whispers to himself, peeking at you from the corner of his eye right after the words leave his mouth to make sure you didn’t hear him over the noise. Heh, can’t be too careful — you tend to have selective hearing.

Flopping side to side theatrically, he makes his way over to the full laundry basket on the floor, lifting it up effortlessly. Satoru looks over at you, pout deepening and jutted lip growing more pronounced by the second as he glares half-heartedly at your back, sending you waves telepathically to turn around and watch as you force your distressed lover to perform labor. It melts away rather quickly, however, his blue gaze softening so easily against his will as he watches you fiddle around, completely in the zone, maneuvering the expanse of the living room with the vacuum in hand, paying him no mind.

The basket almost slips out of his hands as he admires the sight of you performing such a menial task. Honestly, Satoru could stand here and watch you for hours and hours and hours, even if you were doing nothing. But that’s also the thing, you are never doing nothing. You are living and breathing, existing as his wife, and you do it beautifully. Hair messy and clothes shabby, even in your rage — you were the definition of perfection. How could someone have such a powerful hold over him, he could never begin to understand. The love you both hold for each other was far from simple, so perhaps it has something to do with that. It’s like every thought flies out of his head when you fall into his sights like an angel, and Satoru, well, Satoru just goes dumb.

He waits there like an idiot for a couple more moments, taking advantage of the seconds until you turn around and likely scream at him for standing around and wasting time, eyes glued to your figure, tracing all over you, from the top of your head to your sock-clad feet (he wonders if you can feel him touching you with only his gaze), before eventually coming back down to earth.

With a serene sigh and acceptance on his face, Satoru relents, coming to terms with the fact you won’t look back at him and change your mind about him doing chores, the very word leaving a bad taste in his mouth, no matter how big his puppy dog eyes are that he throws in your direction (you were always a cat person anyway). He has That Look, the one that says — ‘Even in my impatience, I will listen’. He can never fight with you, because you are always right. If you say it’s his job to do the damn laundry, then it is. And with that, he gives you one last glance for good measure, sights pointedly lingering on your derrière, before turning and heading straight to the laundry room (taking his damn sweet time while at it).

Setting the basket down on the counter, your dutiful husband sifts through the laundry to separate the clothes into two piles like you taught him that one time. Something about the white clothes getting stained and ruined if they get washed with the dyed fabrics. He didn’t really know about that type of stuff, but he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of your scorn by fucking this up, so he just followed your instructions.

Truthfully, Satoru didn’t understand you at times (though, he supposes he never will). Why would you waste your time on tedious things like cleaning when he could hire help to get it done for the both of you? It’s been that way since he was a child, so he was used to the lifestyle until you came along. He is not lacking in money, and you could finally catch a break instead of complaining about your back all the time . . . Or maybe you like playing as his little housewife. The thought brings his infamous cocky grin to his face before it quickly drops, nose scrunched in disgust at a rather unpleasant smell wafting into his nostrils. 

“What the —”

Oh, it was just his socks.

Satoru grumbles to himself, annoyed and muttering under his breath, barely able to hear himself over the vaccuming in the other room, going on his usual spiel about how much he hates today (and how much he hates his stinky socks — and he knows you wouldn’t disagree with that sentiment), which he wouldn’t have the same confidence saying directly to your face as he continues to dig through the vast mountain of clothes. He releases a long, drawn out sigh, deft fingers hooking into soft fabrics until he pauses, spotting something rather interesting in the pile.

“Eh? What do we have here?”

Taking his arm out from the bin, Satoru’s face lights up with curiosity as he pulls out a cute, pink, strawberry-patterned number with a small bow sewn into the front hem, holding it up to the light, a cheeky glint in his eye. First, his sights dart across the room, waiting for you to pop up around the corner and start berating him for being a pervert at a time like this.

When you don’t, he officially deems it safe, turning his attention back to what was important. He pinches the straps and examines them from every possible angle, a sly smile creeping on his face. He shuts one eye, making optimal use out of the other, intently focused. He has never been more serious about anything. In fact, if he had a tiny magnifying glass in his pocket, it’d be used for moments like this — for him to be weird about his wife’s dirty underwear.

“Oops, I think I might have found something that doesn’t belong to me.~”, he chirps.

Cerulean eyes inspect the (adorable) piece of fabric, and out of instinct, Satoru’s gaze falls on the subtle stains on the seat of the panties, and his smile grows even wider into something cheshire and menacing. He can’t help but let out a low, impressed whistle, eyes twinkling mischievously. Thick fingers trace the stains on the tiny gusset, amusement written all over his face. He giggles to himself.

“Hehe, this is so... cute. Why haven’t I seen these before?”, he inquires to himself with pursed lips, voice laced with feigned innocence as he bats his lashes. Why would you hide these from him? It’s the only possible conclusion he could get to. He’s certain he is well informed in every pair of undies you own — lacey, granny, g-string, thong (and you look unbelievably sexy in all of them). Did you know he’d be gross about these too? Well, you were right.

Satoru slingshots them across the room, and they make a little ping! sound as they hit one of the machines. He repeats the action a few more times but grows tired of it after a few minutes. Next, he tries them on for funsies. But his face soon falls, his pouty expression returning as he tries to squeeze his large frame into them.

“Geez, I’m not that big.”

He wiggles his hips, trying to make them fit, but they’re just too small. He looks down at himself, a mixture of disappointment and amusement on his face, before letting out a loud sigh.

“Aw, no fair! These were supposed to be cute on me too...”

Satoru huffs even more, trying to adjust them so they sit more comfortably, but it’s a lost cause. They were too tight on him, and he’s peeved as well as a little offended he can’t fit into his wife’s underwear like you can his. So, he takes them off, almost tripping over his long legs that get stuck in the holes, before holding them up to his face.

“Don’t tell anyone I did that, okay?”, he whispers to the flimsy cloth in sworn secrecy.

Satoru twirls the panties around his finger, the fabric wrapping around it like a ribbon. The man grows bored, forgetting what he’s in there for in the first place, lips puckered in thought. He spins them in circles, whistling to himself as he leans against the shelf before pausing abruptly. He blinks. An idea pops in his head. He stares at the strawberry-pattern, eyes traveling from the little bow to the sheer white stain. Once again, he looks around the laundry room, ensuring he’s still alone, before slowly bringing the pair close to his face, his twitching nose almost grazing the soft fabric. With caution, he takes a deep sniff, his eyes fluttering shut as he inhales the scent, a throaty moan escaping his lips.

Oh. Yeah. That’s the stuff.

He takes another inhale, face buried in the fabric. He lets out a low, guttural groan, cock throbbing in his pants instantaneously, an immediate reaction, his entire body tensing as the aroma overwhelms him. He goes for another whiff, and then another, his nose pressed firmly against the thin cloth, his breathing growing ragged, becoming intoxicated on you.

Satoru hears the vacuum shut off in the distance and his eyes shoot open, face flushed with arousal and adrenaline. He pulls the panties away from his face with a shaky hand, eyes dilated and hazy with uncontrollable desire. Quickly clutching his treasure close to his chest right over where his heart is thumping loudly against his ribs as if trying to hide them from view — he waits, frozen in place, before he hears it rumbling to life again. A sigh of relief leaves his lips.

He looks down at them again, his gaze lingering on the wet spots before he brings them to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick the discharge off the fabric. His eyes roll back into his head, a loud pornographic moan escaping his lips as the taste explodes on his tongue. He starts licking faster like it’s his favorite popsicle, practically shoving the whole thing into his mouth to get every drop of your dried juices off it.

“Mmm...”, Satoru whines. “O-oh no... This is...” A shaky breath. “— really bad...” He pants, whispering to himself in a strained voice.

Satoru’s grip on the panties tightens possessively. His breath quickens, cock twitching in his pants the more he breathes in your scent. Those blue eyes are half-lidded, dark and clouded with something primal — a hunger he only gets with you. He pulls the little number out of his mouth, his breathing heavy, a thin strand of saliva connecting them to his lips. He wants nothing more than to taste more of you directly from the source.

A hand flies to his crotch, and he rubs, his cock straining against his grey sweatpants, leaking pre-cum like a broken faucet. The taste of you is driving him insane, and he reminisces on the numerous times he’s buried his face between your legs and ate you out like a man starved, wishing so badly he could do it right now.

Satoru’s muffled sounds grow louder, but it is nothing in comparison to the noisy vacuum in the background — his hand moving frantically against his clothed cock. He’s in a complete daze. He wants more, so much more. He wants to feel your warm cunt wrapped around his cock, squeezing him tightly. Wants to hear your cries and screams of pleasure, and most of all — to see your face twisted in ecstasy as he makes you cum over and over again like the mess you are beneath him when he takes you every night.

With that, your husband rips your panties out of his mouth, drool running down his chin, quickly freeing his massive cock, pre weeping from the tip in globs. He takes the measly cloth, wrapping it around his shaft, using it like a makeshift fleshlight. He starts stroking himself, grunting and groaning loudly as he fucks your underwear. His breathing grows heavier, cheeks pink, eyes glassy, his balls tightening up, ready to explode at any moment.

Satoru’s strokes become faster and faster, his hips bucking wildly as he thrusts into your panties like a madman. The small room fills with the lewd schlicking of his cock and his guttural, borderline filthy sounds. Standing there, he imagines how it would feel to have your hot, tight cunt clenching around his cock instead of this flimsy piece of fabric. Your husband could just go over to where you were now, to the real thing, and bend you over and fuck the attitude and temper out of you. He grits his teeth, practicing self control.

Suddenly, your voice rings out, calling for him over the loud vibrations of the machine. He stills, a pounding in his ears as he holds his breath before he starts stroking himself again at a pace. He could get caught, but that knowledge only serves in making the whole situation hotter, his hand moving even faster as he tries to stifle his grunts. The sound of your voice fuels him, and he can feel himself getting closer to the edge, the thrill of you walking in sending a shiver down his spine and straight to his cock, the massive thing twitching and bobbing in his hold.

Another “Satoru!”, and he leaks.

“A-ah! I’m coming, fuck!” 

And just like he said he would, Satoru cums, his cock erupting like a geyser, thick ropes of hot, sticky seed shooting out of him. He shudders violently, the orgasm hitting him hard, mind going completely blank from the sheer intensity of it all. The only thing on his mind is you. Your husband whimpers loudly, your name tumbling heedlessly out of his lips over and over again like a prayer, giving more energy into the hand working his cock than any chore he’s ever done in his life.

“Oh god… oh god!”

“What?!”, you yell back to him in confusion, blissfully unaware as your voice drowns out into background noise.

Satoru continues to ejaculate, coating your underwear in a thick layer of his white fluid. He keeps thrusting into the makeshift fleshlight, milking himself dry, his entire body trembling. He moans your name again, his cock twitching violently as he pumps more and more out and the fabric soaks it up greedily just like your cunt would, legs going weak and numb from right under him due to the sheer intensity of his orgasm. Meanwhile, you continue to vacuum in the living room, none the wiser.

His movements eventually come to a full stop, sighing in satisfaction with a hoot, staring at your now messy pair of panties. The idiot admires his handiwork with a perverted sense of pride, a wide goofy grin on his face, wiping his slicked cock with them, smearing more of his mess onto it as he shivers at the oversensitivity.

You shout again over the vacuum from the other room, causing him to yelp in surprise. “Putting the clothes in the washing machine should not take that long!” He quickly scrambles to clean himself up, making himself presentable by adjusting his pants, hiding your soiled panties beneath the other clothes before he makes his way to you.

Satoru strolls back into the living room, whistling in satisfaction to himself, hands in the pockets of his sweats, trying to act casual and pretend like he wasn’t just doing the nastiest thing imaginable in the laundry room with your underwear. You stop vacuuming and turn to him, throwing him a scathing look.

He gives you a disarming smile, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck, giving you a kiss, trying to defuse your fuse with affection and his classic charm. You brush him off, vexed. “What the hell was taking you so long?!” He opens his mouth to speak but you don’t let him. “Never mind.” You groan, “Just... go throw out the trash.” You pause. “Please?”, you add to sweeten the deal.

Satoru winces slightly at first, but then he internally groans. Taking out the trash is one of the most boring chores he has to do. Then you just had to tack on the ‘please’ and his resolve crumbles instantly. Damn it, how could he say no when you asked him so nicely? He sighs dramatically, trying to act put-out by the request.

“Ugh, fineee.” He whines.

You glare.

He quickly shuts up, sensing your growing irritation. He knows better than to push your buttons right now, especially when you are already pissed at him. So, he begrudgingly lifts up the trash bag, trying his best to show off his beefy biceps as he does this, and heads for the door, muttering under his breath about how much of a hassle taking out the trash is.

Right before he makes his exit, Satoru glances behind him one last time, only to see you staring intently . . . at his muscles. Your eyes flit up to his rather quickly and suspiciously, noticing the pause in his movements. “What?”

He smirks, smug in a way that screams Satoru.

“There’s no need to be shy.” He starts smoothly and you quirk a brow, pursing your lips. “You can look. It’s okay to want all of this, babe.” The bastard flirts with a wink.

Satoru flexes his biceps and his back as casually as he can one last time for good measure, grunting and groaning excessively as he does so, and those gorgeous eyes of yours roll in exasperation, but he can still pick up on the small telltale hint of a smile gracing your lips.

There it is.

That smile.

You love it, you love him. No matter how much you play hard to get even though you’re already stuck with him forever, there was a reason why you still chose him out of all the men in the world (and it totally has everything to do with how amazing and handsome he is).

“Just go, you big idiot.”, you speak in finality, your tone conveying what your words fail to express, eyes shimmering with an unspoken emotion. But he knows what it is, and he knows you know it too.

Satoru salutes, body tall and rigid, one hand holding the heavy black trash bag while the other comes to rest just at his forehead. His cute brows scrunch together in playful seriousness, eyes full of respect, unwavering like his devotion towards you. In that instant, the world seems to pause, the gesture being both simple and profound, a silent vow from him to you. It spoke volumes even after all the hassle of today, and you need not ever say more.

“Yes, ma’am!”

He would follow you to the ends of the world.

a while later . . .

Walking into the laundry room, you go to check to see if the wash cycle is complete so you can transfer the wet clothes into the dryer — only to find out he didn’t even start it or anything! With loud stomps, you storm out of the room, making your way down the hall, basket in hand, up to where he’s lounging on the sofa, playing Candy Crush on his phone without a care in the world — but the sweetness of the previous moment would soon dissipate.

“Satoru! You didn’t even put the laundry in the machine!”

Shit.

The culprit jolts in his seat on the couch, looking up from his phone to see you standing there with the laundry basket in your hands, looking like you’re about to explode with anger. He immediately feels a pang of guilt, and a little apologetic, but mostly — fear.

How did he forget to put the laundry in? He quickly pockets his phone and tries to play it cool.

“O-oh, I, uh, must have forgotten. My bad sweetie...” he titters.

“Forgotten?”, you repeat in disbelief and he blinks dumbly. “It was the only thing I asked you to do in there!”

You slam the basket down on the coffee table, making him jump. His eyes widen as you surf through the clothes to separate the clothing into two piles, and in a moment of revelation, Satoru suddenly remembers the little surprise he left in there — and he freezes.

He can only watch on in horror as you begin to touch and examine each and every article of clothing with a keen eye, his heart rate spiking. It is inevitable. You are going to stumble upon the mess he made earlier; the cum-soaked, used panties that he left in the dirty laundry with the rest of the clothes — and you were going to chew him up and spit him out before evidently, killing him.

Fuck.

He tries to speak up, to stop you from continuing, but his throat feels dry and his tongue feels heavy in his mouth. All he can do is sit there frozen, face pale and sweat starting to bead on his forehead as you get closer and closer to finding out.

You huff. “Why do you always act like everything is so difficult? All you have to do is —” You pause, and Satoru’s heart sinks to his stomach.

“What is that?”, you pronounce your words slowly, voice low and full of suspicion, hands getting wet with something sticky and white.

Your husband can feel his soul leave his body as soon as you pull out that cute number which is very obviously drenched (he has a big load). The poor man swallows hard, perspiration pouring down the side of his temple, palms growing clammy.

This is it. This is the end. This was how the Strongest would die — at the hands of his wife.

You look down at the soiled fabric in disgust, grossed out by the tacky mess on your hands. Knowing the type of person your husband is (a pervert), it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what the so-called ‘mysterious fluid’ is.

Satoru sits there, looking like he’s about to pass out, cheeks now pink and sockets round in utter embarrassment, the picture perfect definition of someone who has been caught. A pair of cerulean eyes dart around the room, desperately searching for an escape route while another, sharp and terrifying, latch onto his form — and he knows no amount of sweet talking will be able to get him out of this one.

He is absolutely screwed.

౨౿ rodrick who is such a loser, the first time you kissed he moaned into your mouth. his body leaning into yours, his hand sliding around your waist—the movement is so confident you think he’s getting cocky until you hear it, the light sound of satisfaction. you do nothing but smile into his lips before pulling away, “you’re cute.”

now, the loser loves making out with you sitting in his chair. your legs on either side of his hips as your shorts ride up your legs. to center himself like before, his warm hands slide from your hips to your sides, slightly making you shiver. your lips are wet with one another’s spit, both your heads spinning, noses hitting now and then as you breathe in each other's air.

“rodrick!”

as if nothing has changed, noises slip from his mouth while you taste each other, your hand scratching into the short hair on the back of his head, not making him any better. his hands slide further up until he’s grabbing a handful of your breast but before you can even think about getting the shirt off greg’s voice takes over the room.

“rodrick, mom sa- EW!” the two of you pull away immediately, you look over at greg with a shocked expression while rodrick simply stuffs his face into your chest with a groan. he mumbles something, but it doesn’t reach either of your ears. “i think i’m gonna hurl,” greg says, making exaggerated gagging noises as he begins to leave. “oh my god,” rodrick moans into your chest in aggravation. he lifts his head to shoo greg from the room further, “get out.”

you hear the soles of greg’s feet hit each step as he leaves. rodrick leans back into the chair and you finally get to take a good look at him; his hair messy, his lips almost as pink as his cheeks, the pinkness creeping up his neck a little, lips slightly agape. you can only grin, “you’re really cute.”

Whatever Happens, Happens ── series masterlist

gojo satoru x reader | modern au, 18+

ღ summary: Your sister was a bitch, the biggest bitch, for taking almost everything from the divorce settlement and full custody of her kid. You could never say anything though, because your parents always said family is everything. But that didn't stop you from falling into a rhythm with her ex-husband. That didn’t stop you from helping him quit his smoking addiction and taking care of his daughter from his first marriage—your niece—who would rather call you "mom" than "auntie."

ღ pairing: sister's ex-husband! dilf! gojo satoru x reader

ღ warnings/tags: 18+ fluff, angst, smut, modern au, female reader, age gap (reader is in early 20’s, gojo is in late 20’s), friends to lovers, single dad gojo, divorced gojo, jealousy, pining, insecurity, use of alcohol and weed, use of vulgar language, gojo develops a smoking addiction, unhealthy coping mechanism, eventual romance, family drama, family dynamics, reader's sister is problematic, reader is the younger sister and the coolest aunt ever

ღ taglist: open

a/n: art credits to @3-aem on Tumblr, @_3aem on Twitter and Instagram

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐒 — do not copy, translate, repost or modify my works on any platform.

imagining hanging out with a girl who desperately needs to pee but we’re outside so she just has to pull off her panties and lift up her skirt and squat right in front of me since there’s no bathrooms and when I ask her if it feels good all she can do is moan and nod while the puddle below her gets bigger and bigger