A Oneshot

pairings - Lovesick!Husband/Dadjo x Wife!reader (f/m)

WC- 6.6k

SMALL SYNOPSIS- Gojo Satoru loved his wife (you) so much, it was embarrassing. So what will happen when a misunderstanding risks him losing you forever? (hint: a lot of sex!)

♡ ₊˚‧ WARNINGS :: No use of Y/N :: Husband Gojo:: Yearner Gojo :: Real World AU:: TENSION!:: Angst:: SMUTT :: mild fluff:: Fingering:: Making out :: Grinding :: Overtime :: Established relationship :: Car Sex :: Misunderstanding:: Dom Satoru :: Slight fluff:: HEAT :: Intimacy:: partying:: Sensuality:: Semi-public sex:: Teasing:: Drinking:: multiple orgasms:: Nicknames:: Sweet talking:: NOT proofread:: (probably more)

𑣲⋆｡˚ NOTES: Um... Hi everyone. I don't really know what to say. I know it has been SO LONG since my last fic, and I deeply apologize to my readers for making you guys wait so long. I pushed myself so hard during the school year that I was left totally spent and burnt out by the time summer rolled around, and working on fics was unfortunately the last of my concern until I got my needed rest. I wanted to thank you guys for your patience with a super sweet and smutty fic, and also wanted to tell you personally that while updates might not be as common as they were before my break, I have slowly but surely started writing again. I am so excited to continue sharing my works with you, and value your support so much. Thank you to all of you again, and I really hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

🎧ྀི♪⋆.✮MUSIC RECS: Anything by The Weeknd

The bass was loud enough to make the shitty walls crumble. Not even just metaphorically, because Aoi Todo spent so much of his nonexistent budget on booze that housing was a secondary concern. The only requirement was that it had to be suitable for parties, which was a condition currently being questioned. 

Every few seconds, the glasses stacked behind the rented bar gave a faint rattle against each other, accompanied by a hundred bursts of laughter coming from every direction. Waves of music rolled through the dinky house like a physical blow, and conversations were audible from every corner of the space. 

A giant gold banner reading HAPPY BIRTHDAY TODO hung crookedly across the living room, the tape on one side already beginning to peel away while taking some of the wallpaper with it. Confetti littered every available surface, and someone had somehow acquired a fog machine. Another person had decided that the party wasn’t enough of a choking hazard and was currently rolling around with a handheld confetti cannon, blowing it straight into people’s faces. 

It was chaos– which, frankly, made perfect sense for Todo’s birthday party. This man approached his celebrations with the same level of restraint he approached anything else in his life– which meant absolutely none. 

“SATORU!”

Todo’s voice boomed from somewhere across the room. Gojo looked up just in time to see his friend standing on a coffee table with a drink raised high above his head. The crowd around him erupted into cheers. Gojo snorted into his beer. Of course. 

Five years ago, he would have been right up there beside him. But now? Now he found himself leaning back against a makeshift couch that was wedged against the wall, nursing his drink and wondering if Arwen had nursed as many times as she needed to tonight. 

The realization hit him hard enough to make him laugh. He was thirty years old. Married for years. A father to a four month old baby that he genuinely thought had anger issues given how she pumped her tiny fists in the air any time she was inconvenienced. 

Which is why, somehow, while standing in the middle of one of the most ridiculous parties he had attended in years, all he could remember to think about was whether his daughter was cuddled up with her microwaveable stuffed rabbit, asleep. The thought made him smile. 

Without even thinking, he pulled out his phone and his lockscreen lit up immediately. 

You.

And Arwen. You were sitting cross-legged in the grass at the park, laughing up at Satoru as he took the picture while Arwen sat in your lap, tiny fingers clutching the neckline of your shirt, her eyes transfixed on a very interesting dandelion fuzzy floating through the air as her small mouth dropped open in awe. The picture was slightly blurry and neither of you were looking at the camera. 

It was perfect. 

Gojo stared at it for a moment longer than needed and an aching warmth settled in his chest. 

God, he missed you. 

It hadn’t been long since he’d seen you– he’d been right by your side this morning, this afternoon. You had helped him pick his outfit right before he left for the party. Yet somehow that never seemed to matter, because the second he was gone, he found himself thinking of you. 

“Whipped.”

Gojo looked up. Geto sat beside him, completely uninvited as usual. “You’ve checked your phone four times in the last ten minutes.”

“Three.”

“Four.”

“Three.”

Geto took a sip of his drink. “It was four.” Gojo rolled his eyes. 

You had also been invited to Todo’s party, but had chosen to stay home with your baby, desperately looking forward to a night in after a long work week.

Across from them, Nanami looked deeply unimpressed by the whole conversation. “I genuinely cannot imagine caring enough to count.” 

Gojo snorted, tipping his bottle up toward his lips. “Don’t be mean, Kento, you know he doesn’t have much to do since he doesn’t have this~” He held up his wedding band in an exaggerated, obnoxious way, a shiny silver ring that glowed in the glaring neon light. 

The conversation dissolved into rolled eyes and laughter. For a while, Gojo got his mind off of home. Things were easy, friends and drinks, background noise and the familiar comfort of people who had known each other for years. 

Nanami passed around another serving of beers, Geto started arguing against the artistic value of the generic Homegoods paintings Todo had adorned his home with, causing Todo to appear long enough to shout something unintelligible before disappearing back into the crowd. 

The party continued surging around them, and somewhere in the mix a new voice entered the conversation. A younger guy– maybe twenty-one, twenty-two. Gojo hadn’t seen him before, but he vaguely remembered someone mentioning that Todo had some family visiting. A cousin, or a nephew, who cared? The details escaped him. 

The kid had inserted himself into their circle about 10 minutes ago and hadn’t stopped talking since. At first, nobody paid him much attention, giving his snark remarks distant nods. But then he kept talking. And talking. And talking. The conversation shifted to people they knew from University, and Ms. Eden got brought up. 

Who is Ms. Eden? Well… 

Geto smiled at the memory. “That teacher assistant for Professor Wilke’s lecture that always baked hundreds of cookies for us. God, those were the highlights of the week for broke college students.” 

Gojo chuckled in agreement. “She was great. I hope she’s become a professor herself now. She deserves it.” 

The kid leaned forward immediately. “She is a professor now, I had her for English 101. Wilkes retired the year before I got there.” 

Gojo's eyebrows raised “Oh, that’s great. Good for h–”

“Her ass is so fat. All the guys loved it when she wore those little pencil skirts, really showed everything off.” he snickered. “I mean, that was the most feminine thing she could do after choosing such a male-centered career. Finding out it was a female professor is what almost made me switch out the class, but I’m glad I stayed for the show.”

The circle fell quiet for a second, but the kid kept laughing, apparently mistaking the silence for encouragement. “I’m serious. That’s literally all I noticed every time she walked in.” 

Gojo took another sip. Slowly. Very slowly, before lowering his bottle. His eyes hiked over to Nanami, who had his own closed while Geto pinched the edge of his nose. Then over to Shoko, who had wandered over at some point and looked about one comment away from throwing her drink at him. The kid was rambling the entire time. 

“Seriously, though–”

“Oh my God.” The interruption came from Shoko. The kid stopped. “Can you shut up?”

The entire group froze awkwardly before Geto chuckled, slapping his hand onto the kid’s shoulder. “Seriously, dude. You sound gross. You should stop.”

Shoko nodded and grimaced, taking another sip of the drink. “Jesus. I’ve known you for about three minutes and every one of them has been exhausting.” 

The kid just stared, cheeks pinking, obviously awestruck and embarrassed at his misjudgement of the type of crowd this was. Geto burst out into laughter. Nanami looked away immediately, clearly attempting not to smile and even Gojo couldn’t stop the grin that appeared on his lips. 

“I was just saying–”

“No,” Shoko interrupted. “You were embarrassing yourself, so I suggest you stop before you do it further.”

Geto laughed harder, and someone behind them snorted at how the kid finally seemed to realize that the conversation wasn’t going to be directed in the way he’d imagined. For the first time all night, he fell fucking silent. Peace settled over the group– beautiful, immediate, glorious peace. 

Gojo took one final sip from his bottle. Empty. He glanced down at it, and then toward the kitchen where fresh ones were being kept. Honestly, that seemed like a better use of his time. 

Setting the bottle down on the nearby table, he pushed himself to his feet. “Well,” he said, brushing invisible dust off of his T-shirt, “that’s my cue.” 

The others barely acknowledged him. Shoko was still glaring at the kid and Geto was still dying. Nanami nodded at Gojo, looking seconds away from leaving the party entirely. 

Gojo shook his head, amused, then he turned toward the kitchen in search of another ice cold beer. The kitchen was one of the few places in the house that wasn’t completely swallowed by the party. The music still rattled the windows and voices still drifted in and out, but compared to the packed living room, it was serene. He welcomed the momentary break. 

He crossed the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and grabbed another drink from one of the overcrowded shelves. He took a second to look at the other things in Aoi Todo’s fridge. Beer. Milk. Diet Coke. Cereal. More beer. Gojo let out a laugh under his breath before he closed the fridge, trying to think of how he could tease Todo about putting a cereal box in the fridge whenever they ended up having a conversation next.

He turned his attention to the cold bottle, slick with condensation against his palm. He shut the door with his hip, hooked a finger beneath the cap, and twisted it free. The sharp hiss sounded almost soothing. He took a deep exhale before taking a sip. 

“..well, hello.”

The voice came from his right. Gojo glanced over. A blonde woman stood beside the kitchen island, smiling at him. She was undeniably attractive. Her long baby blonde hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and she wore a fitted red set with tall heels that clicked against the hardwood floor whenever she shifted her weight. Several pieces of jewelry glittered beneath the kitchen lights. The smile she gave him was practiced, confident. The kind that suggested she rarely experienced rejection. 

Gojo already felt a headache forming. 

The woman tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stepped closer. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“We haven’t.” His answer was polite enough. Brief enough that most people would’ve taken the hint. 

Unfortunately, she didn’t. In fact, her smile widened. “That’s a shame.”

Gojo silently took another sip of his beer. Across the room, someone opened the back door and a burst of music flooded through the kitchen before fading again. The woman leaned against the counter. “So what’s your name?”

“Satoru.”

“Pretty name.”

Gojo hummed noncommittally. His eyes drifted behind her head to the hallway. He briefly wondered again if Arwen had fallen asleep. She struggled with new bedtime routines, and Gojo was usually the one who cradled her to sleep at night. The memory tugged a smile back onto his face. 

The blonde woman immediately noticed. “There it is.”

He blinked, trying to bring his focus back to reality. “There what is?”

“That smile.” she pointed at him, biting her lower lip. “You should do that more often.”

Gojo immediately stopped smiling. 

The woman laughed, apparently finding his reaction amusing. “Wow. Tough crowd.”

He took another drink, not responding. She stepped closer, not enough to be blatantly obvious, but enough to be intentional. “You know,” she said, “Todo mentioned you’d be here.”

That got his attention. “He did?”

“Mhm.” The woman nodded slowly. “Said you were tall and handsome.”

Gojo already hated where this conversation was going. “And?”

Her grin turned playful. “He undersold it.”

There it was. The flirting. Direct, unsubtly, absolutely exhausting. Gojo had to resist the urge to sigh. The woman reached out and placed a hand against his chest. The movement was casual and familiar, like she’d assumed she would be welcome here. Gojo's jaw immediately tightened, and without hesitation he caught her wrist and gently but firmly moved her hand away. “I’m married.” 

The woman blinked. Then laughed, actually laughed as though he had told a joke. “That’s your concern?”

“My concern?”

“Relax.” She waved a dismissive hand, “I don’t mind.”

Gojo stared at her. For a moment, he genuinely wondered if she’d heard him correctly. Then he realized she had, she just didn’t care. And that epiphany annoyed him far more than he expected. 

The woman stepped closer again. “One night isn’t the end of the world.” 

Gojo’s expression flattened. In his mind, he saw you immediately. Not some idealized version or fantasy, just you. You laughing in the kitchen, cooking dinner with him, you showing up to his office during work breaks and stealing kisses in the elevator, you asleep with him after long nights with a newborn, you holding Arwen for the first time in that hospital room. You crying, laughing, you existing. 

Every moment was precious. Every moment belonged to home. To his family. The very idea that he would risk any of it felt absurd. Not tempting or difficult– completely absurd. “I think you misunderstood me.” The amusement faded from his voice. The woman seemed to notice, because her smile weakened slightly.

Gojo set his beer on the counter before placing both hands on her shoulders and carefully guiding her backward, creating space between them. Intentional but not aggressive. “I love my wife.” His voice was calm, certain. The woman opened her mouth but he continued before she could. “I love her more than anything.” A step back. “I love my wife and daughter more than anything.” His expression softened despite himself, his body taking another step back.

The kitchen suddenly felt quieter. The woman stared at him for a moment. Then rolled her eyes. Rolled. Her. Eyes. Gojo nearly laughed from disbelief. 

“You’re serious.” She said, raising an eyebrow. 

“I am.”

“Wow.” She folded her arms, a grin spreading across her face. “It’s okay. Usually it takes more than one try.” 

Gojo raised an eyebrow. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means most guys need a few chances before they cave.” she shrugged. “And as far as married men go, you’re surprisingly difficult.” 

His face went completely blank. The woman sighed dramatically. “Fine.” Then she smiled again, “One last shot.”

Before he could respond she stepped forward, fast. Both arms looped around his neck as she leaned closer. He could feel her hot, alcoholic breath on his lips and it sickened him. “What are you–”

A tiny sound interrupted him. Not loud, or even a full word. Just a soft, uncertain squeak from the doorway behind them. 

“...Toru?”

Everything stopped. The noise, the music, the conversation, his heartbeat. Gojo knew that voice, he would know it anywhere. Slowly, he turned around. 

And saw you. Standing in the kitchen doorway. For one impossible second, his mind forgot how to function. You looked beautiful. Not in the domestic, casual way he was accustomed to since Arwen, but in a way that stole the air from his lungs the second he whipped around. 

Your makeup was done, your hair had been carefully styled, soft voluminous curls fanning your perfect face. The black dress you wore was elegant and striking, short and deep necked, lace details tracing along the tops of your breasts in the fabric. You looked like you’d stepped straight out of one of the photos hidden in his wallet, like the version of you he would brag about to everyone who would listen. Like his wife. 

His wife. 

Who was currently staring at another woman wrapped around his neck. 

The blood drained from his face, pure horror flashing across his features. The blonde woman seemed to realize her mistake at exactly the same moment. Gojo reacted instantly. He grabbed her wrists, pulled her arms away, then firmly moved her backward. The distance between them appeared immediately, but it was already too late. Your eyes never left the scene. 

Gojo watched your expression change– confusion, recognition, pain. Your lower lip trembled just slightly, barely noticeable, yet somehow he saw it more clearly than anything else in the room. You looked so small. So hurt. The realization drove through his chest. 

“No.” The word escaped him before he could stop it. Your gaze dropped to the floor. You turned around and started walking away. 

Gojo felt his heart shatter into pieces. “No, no no–” 

His beer remained forgotten on the counter. The blonde woman disappeared from existence entirely. Nothing mattered except you. Getting to you. 

He moved immediately, pushing past the island, ignoring the music, ignoring the party, ignoring everything, only one thought existing in his head as he hurried after you. 

You thought he’d betrayed you, and if he didn’t fix this right now, he wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself. 

Gojo sprinted. People turned, startled by the 6’3” guy suddenly barreling his way through a dance floor full of drunk idiots. Some girl spilled her drink, another yelled “Dude!” as he shouldered past. But he didn’t care– not at all. He saw your black dress disappearing toward the front door and pushed faster, adrenaline fueling each step. The guilt was crushing, but right now he had to focus on getting to you before you could leave with the wrong idea. He yelled out your name, voice booming over the music, raw with panic. 

Closer to the door, the partygoers parted like a wave as Gojo shoved through, his broad shoulders knocking aside anyone with the misfortune of being in his path. You were almost to the door, hand reaching out for the handle, but he closed the distance in seconds. He grabbed your wrist gently but firmly and spun you around to face him. His eyes were frantic, wide and pleading. “Baby,” he choked out. “It’s not what you think.” 

You swallowed, a shaky breath leaving you. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

You wiped quickly at the tears staining your face, embarrassed, trying to compose yourself and pretend your heart wasn’t breaking. “I didn't mean to interrupt.”

His stomach dropped. “Interrupt?”

You laughed softly, a sad laugh that hurt infinitely more than crying. “Your fun.”

Gojo stared at you. Then stared some more as the words refused to process. “My what?”

You looked down again. “I just..” your voice cracked, “I wanted to surprise you.” 

God. Oh God. His heart physically ached. 

You glanced toward the door. “I got Arwen to sleep early.” Another sniffle, “I did my hair.” Your fingers twisted together nervously. “I thought maybe we’d stay for a little while together.”

Gojo’s chest caved in at your tears. Your voice– so small, so broken, hurt worse than anything. That frown, the small sniffle, he’d never felt like a bigger piece of shit in his life. He stepped forward and yanked you forward into his arms, crushing you against him and burying his face into your hair, inhaling. “No.” he rasped desperately. “No, no, no…. Baby there was no fun. I swear on my life. On Arwen’s life.” His hands trembled as they clutched onto the back of your dress. That girl was nothing. She was less than nothing. The whole night wasn’t worth shit, much less worth you standing here hurt because of it.

Gojo pulled back just enough to cup your face, to wipe away fresh tears with a calloused thumb, his own eyes burning now at the thought of you believing he had done something like that to you. “She came onto me,” he said urgently, voice thick. “I didn’t touch her, didn’t flirt back. I told her I was married the second she touched my chest.” He took a shaky breath, pressing his forehead to yours so you could see how serious he was. You searched his face and he let you, because he had nothing to hide. “I would never do that to you.” His eyes softened. “Ever.” 

Neither of you spoke. The music from inside continued to shake the walls. Laughter erupted somewhere nearby. The front hallway was filled with people shuffling in and out of the living room. The party continued around you, completely unaware that Gojo felt like his entire universe had nearly collapsed. 

He looked around once and then back at you. “Nope.”

You blinked. “What?”

“We’re not having this conversation here.”  Before you could protest he reached down and took your hand, naturally, immediately, like breathing. His fingers laced through yours as he guided you through the front doorway, away from the noise and crowd, from everything. The night air greeted you the second you stepped outside, cool and quiet compared to the chaos unwinding indoors. Gojo didn’t stop until you were near the car, fairy lights hung between the trees of the neighborhood. Then he turned to you fully, still holding you close to him. 

Moonlight caught onto your tear streaked face and it destroyed him. Without hesitation. He leaned in and locked his lips with yours softly, warm breath fanning over your cheek. His mouth moved languidly against yours as he poured out regret and love in one desperate motion. His other arm wrapped around your waist again, pulling you close, wanting to erase every second you had felt pain tonight. When he finally pulled away, your eyes were still closed for a second. He rested his forehead back against yours and you sniffled quietly. The sound made him smile despite himself. “So?” he murmured. 

You opened your eyes, and there was still some uncertainty there, some vulnerability. “Okay…” your voice was small. “So you really didn’t do anything with her?”

Gojo immediately shook his head “No.” Not a second of hesitation, not a moment of consideration. “Not a single thing,” he swore, voice rough. “She touched me first– like, right when you walked in– and I shoved her off the second I realized what was happening.”

His thumb brushed another stray tear away before cradling your cheek. “I was getting another beer because some kid was pissing me off by talking about women like objects and I needed a break… and then she came up to me.” A frustrated grunt. “I didn’t even know her name.” He leaned in to kiss your forehead this time, a gentle apology. 

Finally, some of the tension left your shoulders. Then more, then more. Until you simply stepped forward and tucked yourself against him. Gojo nearly melted. A breath escaped him long and heavy. That was all he needed, proof that you believed him, that you still trusted him. His arms locked around you, one hand sliding up to hold the back of your head as the other rubbed slow circles on your spine through the black dress fabric. He pressed kiss after kiss to the top of your hair, your temple, wherever he could reach without pulling away from the hug. 

The familiar motion eventually drew out a less quiet version of you again. “Did you have fun?” You murmured against him.

Gojo chuckled against your hair before shaking his head– no. “Not at all.” he admitted quietly. He hadn’t had fun, not really. The party was too loud, the people were too obnoxious. “I just came because Todo begged me.” A pause. “I spent the whole night thinking about you.”

Your expression softened. 

“And Arwen.” He grinned. “Mostly Arwen.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, maybe fifty-fifty.”

“Definitely lying.”

Gojo laughed again, pulling you closer. “Let’s just say I would’ve rather been home with my girls.”

You nuzzled into his chest as your gaze drifted toward the house, toward the glowing windows, the music and laughter spilling into the night, then you looked back at him. “Do you wanna go back in?”

Gojo followed your gaze. Stared at the party for exactly two seconds. Then looked at you. 

His wife, standing beneath the dim light. 

The woman he’d fallen in love with years ago. 

The mother of his baby girl.

The person he wanted beside him when he was twenty. 

And thirty. 

And seventy. 

The person he’d choose every single time. 

His expression softened, and he leaned down to press a kiss against your temple, shaking his head slightly. “Nah… let’s go home.” His voice was warm with finality, and he already had his keys out of his jacket pocket as he gently guided you toward the car parked on the side of the road. Todo could keep his party– Gojo had everything he wanted right here. 

You let out an exaggerated sigh, the last remnants of your earlier tears giving way to something lighter. “What a waste of a good dress. You didn’t even notice.” 

Gojo stared at you before he let out a laugh. “A waste?” Without warning, he spun you around against the car door and kissed you deeply, hungrily. “Oh I noticed it. Just didn’t seem appropriate to bring up your rockin’ bod when you were in tears.” he murmured against your lips, one hand sliding down to grip your hip while the other held onto your jaw.

He had ways of appreciating this dress that were far better than you showing it off at some stupid party, ways like peeling it off and bending you over until—

He groaned at the thought, thumb swiping at your lower lip, glistening with red cherry gloss that had rubbed onto your chin with his messy kisses. The dress– tight, sleek, hugging every perfect curve of your body– was suddenly an obstacle he wanted to destroy. His lips met yours again and the kiss turned hotter, rabid, sticky cherry liquid intoxicating his tongue as his hands roamed down the black fabric, mapping the shape of you before squeezing your ass possessively. 

Then he broke the kiss long enough to tilt his lips toward your ear as he growled. “Get in the car.” 

You exhaled shakily as he pulled open the passenger seat and got in first, pulling you into his lap to straddle him soon after. Your thighs settled on either side of him, and you panted as he slammed the car door shut, licking his lips as his eyes raked over you.

A blush crawled its way up your neck to your cheeks, warming your face and causing a devilish grin to spread onto Gojo’s, cerulean eyes gleaming with mischief. “Toru.. this is right in front of a party. Someone could see us.” You mumbled. 

Gojo didn’t give a single fuck about the party. “Let them see.”

He had his wife– gorgeous, blushing, straddling him in that sinful dress– and he was done waiting. His hands immediately gripped your thighs, hiking up the skirt of your dress as he crushed your mouths together again, the kiss messier now with teeth clashing and tongues swishing. One hand slid up your spine to tangle in your hair while the other pressed flat against the small of your back, pulling you flush against him so you could feel exactly how affected he was. The car windows were slightly tinted, but was it still risky? Absolutely. 

You kissed him back but felt the heat in your cheeks grow even more. “Satoru!”  You whisper-scolded, but Gojo ignored you completely. The whispering and blushing only fueled him more. He nipped at your bottom lip, calloused palms growing even bolder, slipping under dress fabric to trace your bare waist as the other massaged the back of your neck. The car was parked in the shadows near streetlights, tinted windows mostly hiding you from view, but your nervous energy made the moment burn even hotter. 

“You came dressed like this,” he murmured between kisses, voice gravelly with want. “What did you think was gonna happen?” 

You whimpered as his hot lips moved down to the underside of your jaw, sucking and kissing the sensitive skin, nipping before smoothing the motion out with his sticky, languid tongue. You panted softly as you melted into the swirl of sensation, your own anxiety slowly being overpowered by the sheer feel of him all around you, the intoxicating scent of his cologne helping to overwhelm your mind. 

Gojo smiled against your skin– gotcha. 

The way your body became pliant, melting like butter under his lips and teeth?-- it was perfect, your incoherent breaths music to his ears. He sucked a small purple mark right below your jaw, the sting melting into pleasure as he admired the hickey, claiming, gorgeous on your already clammy skin. He trailed kisses down your collarbone, his tongue darting out as he moved even lower, glistening the bouncy tops of your tits, licking where the dresses neckline dipped slightly lower. 

His hands worked in sync, one still gripping your thigh, the other gliding under your dress, feeling the shakiness of your back, warm skin smooth under his palm. Every single touch was deliberately placed to drive you crazy, to build heat slowly. And he took every hitched breath of yours as permission to keep going. 

His hands slowly dipped further down under your dress. Gojo’s groan was filthy– low, guttural, when his palms encountered the thin, pathetic lace of a thong. 

Fuck.

The realization that you’d dressed up this sexy for him on purpose– it made him short circuit as he fought to not rut up into you right then and there. Without another second wasted, he squeezed your ass through the fabric, thumbs hooking under the sheer elastic to pull it taut, testing how flimsy this little piece of lingerie really was. 

He dragged his lips back up to yours to capture them in another searing kiss, feeling your soft huffs of breath as he started kneading those perfect cheeks with his greedy hands. Gojo was obsessed with how you felt– round, plush, beautiful. 

Every squeeze drew another pant from your lips against his, and it drove him wild. He kissed you deeper, tongue sliding against yours, as fingers dipped under the fabric of the thong this time, tracing the sensitive skin that lined where you wanted him– needed him most.

The car seat creaked slightly under your shifting weights, but Gojo didn’t care about anything other than touching every inch of you he could reach. His skillful hands moved up and hooked your thong to the side, long fingers sliding through your slick folds, spreading you open before two of them pushed inside without warming. The stretch made your breath catch, and your head tipped back in a breathless “oh” as he started pumping them in and out, curling just right on every stroke. 

Gojo watched you, rapt, as your lips parted in silent pleasure. “Look at you,” he murmured, voice rough against your ear as he continued curling his fingers inside you, testing how tight you were, how hot despite the semi-public setting. “So fucking wet already, You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you? My fingers buried in this tight little pussy, stretching until you can’t anymore.” His thumb brushed over your clit in slow circles as he added a third finger, the sopping sounds filling the space between you. He watched your face the whole time, sharp eyes drinking in every twitch and gasp. 

“So pretty.” He growled, and he didn’t let up. His fingers drove deeper, scissoring inside you, twisting and pressing up against a spot that made your knees tremble. “Tell me how bad you wanna come,” he said, the command edged with heat. “Say it, gorgeous. I want to hear you beg for it.”

You squirmed on his hand, hips rolling without even thinking, but the words stayed stuck in your throat. The pleasure built fast, your walls clenching and spasming around his fingers, but you stayed quiet. Gojo’s jaw tightened, and with a grunt he pulled his fingers out completely, leaving you empty and aching. 

A whine slipped out of you at the sudden loss. Your hips chased after his hand on instinct, but he held them back with his free palm.

“You have to talk to me, or I stop, baby,” he said, voice dark and steady. “I’m not gonna let you come if you don’t use that pretty mouth. Open.” Your lips parted shakily, as he wanted them to. He brought his three slick fingers up and dragged them across your mouth, coating your lips in your own arousal. The taste hit your tongue– salty, musky, sweet, unmistakably you. “There. Much better than that cherry lipgloss, hm?” 

The filthy act made heat flood into your face and your core at the same time. Your tongue flicked out without thinking, licking the taste off your lips. Gojo watched you with a hungry smirk, waiting, his cock twitching in his pants. 

“Please,” You finally gasped, voice unsteady. “I want to come so bad. I need it. Please, Toru–”

His fingers were back inside you before the last word even left your mouth, thrusting hard and deep as he reclaimed your lips in a kiss. “That’s it,” he praised, voice thick with approval. “Good girl. Fuck yourself on my fingers. Show me how desperate you are.”

You rocked your hips forward, grinding down onto his fingers while he held them steady. Every roll dragged his knuckles against your walls, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit with each small movement. His free hand slid up to your throat, fingers resting lightly there, the pressure driving you to the edge. Gojo leaned in closer, lips brushing your ear as he kept talking.

“Look at you, riding my hand like you can’t get enough. So fucking needy. You’re dripping down my wrist, baby. Keep going. Faster. I want to feel this pussy squeeze me when you come.”

You clutched his shoulders, nails digging into the expensive fabric of his shirt as you moved with growing urgency. Every downward grind dragged his thick fingers deeper, the wet sounds even more obscene now in the confined space of the car. Your head dropped back forward, pressing against the side of his as you rode his hand, chasing the friction he kept giving you. 

Gojo watched you with the same sharp, hungry focus, his free hand sliding down from your throat. He worked the buckle of his belt open one handed, the metallic clink loud between your ragged breaths. The zipper followed, and he freed himself with a low hiss. His cock sprang up, curling toward his stomach– heavy, flushed, red hot, and dripping with precum that beaded at the slit and slid down the thick shaft. 

He pulled his fingers free without warning, the sudden emptiness making you gasp, but before you could protest he gripped your hip, lined himself up, and sank you down onto his cock in one smooth motion. The stretch was brutal, perfect, mouthwatering as your walls rubbed against his every ridge slowly, agonizingly. Both of you cursed at the same time– your voice high and broken, his a raw groan– as he bottomed out inside you, the fat head of him kissing your cervix. 

Your orgasm crashed through you instantly. He barely had time to process it before your walls clamped down around him, squeezing him in tight, rhythmic pulses. Gojo’s jaw clenched, a rough sound tearing from his throat. He held you there, buried to the hilt, letting you ride out every wave. 

When the tremors finally eased up, he pressed a slow kiss to your temple as he started moving again, lips brushing your skin as he whispered, “That’s my girl.”

You whined immediately, the overstimulation sharp and electric. Your nails scraped down his chest through his shirt, legs trembling on either side of him. “I can’t– s’ too much–” the words came out shaky and pleading. 

But he didn’t stop, not yet. He adjusted his angle just slightly, hitting that spot inside you with each slow roll of his hips, and trapped your hands against his chest with his own. “Shhh…” he murmured, biting your earlobe before kissing down your jaw. “You can take it.” His thrusts stayed deep and controlled initially, torturously steady despite how bad his body was screaming at him to slam into hers. 

Eventually, Gojo felt it, the shift. How your shaking turned into pliant, moving thrusts against him, how your whines softened against his mouth as pleasure rebuilt under the overstimulation. 

Yes. 

That was the sweet spot, right where you got dizzy with sensation but still chased more. He kissed you deeper now, swallowing every hushed little sound as his pace gradually increased, adding more friction in a newer way. One hand slid down to grip your thigh and hike it higher, changing angles to hit even deeper. 

His hands locked on your hips, strong and sure, lifting you up and dropping you back down onto his cock with deliberate force. The drag of him inside you, thick, veined, splitting you open again and again, sent sparks racing up your spine. You whimpered in his lap, body still caught between the fading aftershocks and the new pressure, building fast, melting you against him. “God– I love you so much. See how utterly yours I am?” he panted. “I can’t even look at another girl. You’ve ruined me…so fucking perfect.” 

Gojo’s eyes dropped between your bodies, watching the way your slick cunt swallowed him on every thrust. His cock gleamed with your arousal, disappearing into you again and again, the wet slap on skin and the smell of sex filling the car. He guided your movements with firm control, rolling his own hips up to meet yours, grinding deep each time you were dragged down. 

Then… voices. 

You froze, a sharp gasp escaping you. “Fuck– Toru–”

Gojo’s head snapped toward the noise– a group of people laughing, stepping out onto the front porch.. Probably Todo’s douchebag friends taking a smoke break. 

He hushed you instantly, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. “Shh, baby. They can’t see us.” He pulled you down into a kiss, mouth claiming yours with slow, filthy strokes of his tongue. His teeth caught on your lower lip as he kept you moving in shallow rolls. The people walking by started giggling. “Oooh those people are making out~” 

You smirked softly against Gojo’s lips, feeling him do the same. Making out? They had no idea. You felt your anxiety fall away.

The second the voices faded, Gojo’s restraint snapped. He yanked you down hard, impaling you back onto his cock with a low growl. He abandoned the kiss to bury his face near your shoulder, biting down gently on your pulse point. His hands tightened on your hips as his movements turned erratic, using you like he needed it, pistoning you up and down in desperate thrusts. The car rocked with the force. He was panting now, breath hot against your neck, low groans rumbling out of his chest every time you clenched around him. 

“Fuck you feel so good,” he rasped, voice wrecked and slurring. “So tight– never want to let you go.” His pace grew frantic, hips snapping up to meet every drop of your body. Sweat beaded at his temple. Every sense felt heightened against the wet heat of you, the way your nails dug sharply into him, the slap of skin, the scent of cum thick in your surroundings. 

You felt him swell inside you, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release. Your second orgasm approached fast, coiling low and right. When it hit, you cried out into his mouth. Gojo followed right after, burying himself to the root with a broken groan as he came. Hard. Hot pulses of cum flooded you, his cock twitching deep inside while his hands held you flush against him. Both of you shook through it, moans and heavy breaths mingling as the pleasure gradually ebbed. 

He stayed inside you afterward, arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close while your bodies cooled. His lips brushed your ear, voice soft again. “So good for me, baby.” His hand moved to rub circles again along your back and his lips pressed soft kisses against your hairline as he whispered again. “....so I think I really love this dress.”

𑣲⋆｡˚ NOTES: AAAAnd that's it for my comeback fic! Please let me know your thoughts, even if it's just to scream at me for being gone so long, all of your feedback is greatly appreciated. I love you guys, and see you soon.

Love, Rima.

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