Personal Trainer!Sukuna x Pervy!Reader

The only reason your broke ass is stepping foot into Limitless—the ultra-chic, LED-lit, influencer-infested gym—is because your rich aunt gifted you a year-long membership for Christmas.

You clocked the look she gave you at Thanksgiving—that side-eye scrutiny of you squeezed into a dress that used to fit you perfectly last summer. Let’s just say... the turkey wasn’t the only thing stuffed at the table this year.

But whatever. You’re not complaining about anything that’s free‑99. As a struggling grad student, you’ve been surviving off ramen, iced coffee, and vibes for a year now.

But the second you walk through Limitless’s sleek steel doors, two things hit you—

Like, offensively hot.

HELPP IM DYING IM RESURRECTED I LOVE THIS

reader reminds me of Squidward tweaking in that SpongeBob episode “just one bite”

genuinely how she was moving to lick sweaty man sweat off public use gym equipment

and then satoru instigating like this

YOU GET SEAHORSE!GOJO PREGNANT 🤍🌊

info: silly idea of hybrid-seahorse!gojo,,, because he'd love to have your babies ok, don't take this super serious LOL

SEAHORSE!GOJO who you fell in love with at first sight. you'd been wandering aimlessly through the sea when you happened upon him. the first thing you noticed was his shocking white hair, the second was his big blue eyes that matched his tail. across his cheeks like a smattering of freckles, a gradient of green and blue scales glinted beneath the hazy light.

SEAHORSE!GOJO who you ended up thinking about for weeks on end when you returned to atlantis. dreaming of how it'd feel to run your hands through his silky hair and stare into his captivating eyes and lose yourself in them.

I ran to this the minute it was posted

he’s my pregnant wife and is gonna have our 676 babiezzz ᴗ͈ . ᴗ͈꒱১

⟡ this pic stresses me out

looking at this again

what kills me is how happy they all look

are they proud of this??

wipe that smile off yo damn face ain’t nothin to be smiling about when u came out the woodworks dressed to the nines for the NONSENSE CONVENTION.

He kisses you on your chin, above your lips on your philtrum. On your eyelids, on your eyebrows. On the cups of your ears, your elbows, behind your knees.

belly button.

your arm pit.

You literally have to beat him off of you and ask what the hell’s up with him.

And he pouts with the widest, most sparkly baby blues and little tick in his brow— his reasoning for all of it??

“Every part of you is so beautiful, I just gotta love on every square inch of youuu,” he whines, and from his explanation you learn he’s been on a self-appointed quest to kiss you everywhere nobody ever has before. Because in his eyes, every bit of you is precious, every bit of you needs to be appreciated and cherished to his fullest potential. You really can’t help but find the sentiment sweet.

“Well congratulations. You’re officially the only one who’s tried to tongue my bellybutton, ever.” You deadpan. “Probably the only one who’s ever tried to do that to anyone.”

You’re being sarcastic, but he only hears your every other word. Or to be frank, only a few. He wraps his arms around you, dopily giggling to himself as he presses you as close as humanely possible.

“Mm, the only one,” he echos dreamily, the widest, dorkiest self-satisfied smile stretched across his lips. He might as well have been drunk off your inadvertent affirmation.

You only give a put upon sigh, stroking his hair. You suppose you could let him have his way this once.

“So I can kiss your feet then?”

“There’s something seriously wrong with you.”

“…I don’t hear a nooo,”

ᯓ☆ dadtoru for my soul

The day was balmy and pleasant outside, streaks of golden light painting the surfaces in your kitchen with a warm glimmer. By the window is where you deftly cut apples, adding them to the ever growing snack platter for your two greatest loves with the two greatest stomachs.

In fact, when you glanced up you caught a glimpse of your little girl squealing joyfully as she pedaled across the yard on her tiny training-wheeled bike, Satoru roaring as he chased after her with hands outstretched, undoubtedly playing the role of some pretend monster.

Nothing warmed your heart more than watching him prowl ridiculously across the yard, his white hair mistakable for pale yellow under the sun’s bright invariant rays. And your daughter, with her matching headful that somehow defied gravity more than her father’s, beaming the widest patchwork grin now that she had a few teeth missing. A fond chuckle escaped you as you set down your knife against the cutting board, the widest smile tugging at your own lips. Moments like these, they’re just so precious, so picture perfect that you can’t help but itch for a photo so that they might last forever.

Just as you abandon your snack preparations to find your camera however, you hear the pitchy scream of your daughter— more distressed than her earlier joyful shrieks. You know Satoru would never let anything happen to her on his watch, and you trust him to keep to that. Still— you found yourself rushing for the back door with anxious haste. Mother’s instincts or something of the sort, you suppose.

“Daddyyy!! Get off, you’re too big!”

The little girl whined, the crown of her head along with her two tiny hands shoved against Satoru’s lower back. It was apparent she was trying and failing to budge him very far along the concrete path that wound around the backyard to the front. Her mini fists beat against him in frustration as he only let out an unrepentant snicker, hunched over into a crescent and too large hands gripping the small handle bars with multicolored tassels on the ends of them between his knees. Not too unlike a bear on a unicycle. Fussily, she asserted, “it’s my turn!”

“But daddy just got on!” He complained back, knees hiking up further whenever he pushed on the itty bitty bicycle pedals, a chiming ring!ring!ring!!! sounding as he fiddled with the bell. “C’mon, push me, push me, push meee!”

His daughter gave a few more adamant shoves that had her little pink sneakers skittering backwards against the ground before she sighed sharply in defeat. Her lips were pursed into an adorable little pout, her arms folded indignantly over her ruffly gingham short sleeve.

“If you don’t get off, I’m gonna tell mommy on you.” She threatened gravely. It spelled trouble for him— mommy threats were no joke to be taken lightly.

“You don’t need to do that, cupcake!” Her father’s chuckles faded into an uneasy hum when he mulled over the hypothetical consequences— your wrath. His smile shrank into a mirroring pout. “Right…please? You know how mommy gets when she’s cranky at—“

“Satoru.”

At your firm address your husband’s startled onto his feet, tripping over the bike in his urgency to get to you. Your daughter’s tantrum face had morphed into an adorably impish smirk as she witnessed yet another of her dad’s scoldings.

“Angeeel! I was just thinking about how miserable my life would be without you, my heart.” Satoru would drawl placatingly, flashing a nervous grin to couple his flattery. He stooped before you with both his hands gently caressing your daintier one and arm, peppering noisy kisses all the way from the tips of your fingers to the slope of your shoulder. “Did you know you’re glowing? ‘Swear to god, everyday you get more—“

“Save it,” you snorted, stern demeanor letting up despite yourself if the way your eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement was anything to tell by.

“Yeah, save it!” Your daughter piped up in triumphant giggles now that you’ve come to her defense against Satoru’s mischief.

Satoru’s jaw dropped agape with an over the top scoff, his head whipping to her, then you, then her then you then her and back again.

“Look what you’re teaching our little girl,” he grumbled pitifully, expression spuriously sullen. “She’s gonna think she can walk all over me...”

You laughed at that, even going the extra mile to taunt him. “Can’t she though?” That earns you a wispy chuckle, a few words affectionately mumbled words against your temple as he trailed a path towards your mouth.

“Yeah. Just like her mommy,” Satoru intoned mirthfully, featherlight against your lips in the baritone he knew would make your stomach do a little flip-flop before pressing a kiss to them.

At the sight of the two in your own little world and completely neglecting her existence, your daughter puffed her cheeks. Her eyes that were somehow dark despite her father’s strong genes turned wide and imploring, hands above her head now.

“Daddy, pick me up!” She demanded, but in the whiny pleading tone that tugged at both your heart strings. “I want kisses too…please?”

Without hesitation Satoru was boosting her up overhead until her gappy smile reappeared, settling her on his hip between you. “‘can’t say no to my little angel,” he cooed.

With only a look over your daughter’s head unspoken words pass, both you and your husband simultaneously humming drawn out “mmmm”’s against opposite sides of her tiny cheeks before smacking exaggerated “muah!”’s that had her squealing cheerful giggles.

Moments like these, so precious and authentic and with her, with him, last forever echoing in your heart.

ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴍᴀᴛᴏᴇꜱ

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader A/N: there's no gojo character death in this one i pinky promise

At 10 years old, love, to Gojo Satoru, is conditional.

It’s a pat on the head after brutal training. A clan elder promising he’ll be “fit to lead" if he memorizes just one more rule. A supervisor saying he’ll be “enough” if he survives just one more trial.

At ten, he learns love as a transaction. A currency earned through performance.

At 10 years old, love, to you, is a sun-ripened tomato you’ve picked fresh from the vine, tart and sweet, a splash of citrus on a summer breeze. You hold it out to your mother with a gap-toothed smile, and she takes it from you with a "thank you" and a gentle pat on the head.

You’re sure, then, that she must be an angel. And therefore all people are.

At ten, you learn love as a gift. A cherry red tomato, the best one you could find, accepted with kind hands and a soft voice, because the person accepting it deserves it. Because all people deserve to be loved.

At 15 years old, love, to Gojo Satoru, becomes momentum.

He finds a makeshift family that grins through danger, a best friend who laughs with his head thrown back and believes people deserve to be saved simply because they exist. He tastes love in the little things – in basketball, and dumb pranks, and needling classmates just because he can.

At fifteen, he learns love through happiness.

Something he thinks, hopes, will last forever.

WHERES THE TOMATO WHERE IS IT I CANT SEE IT im getting fomo

“Are you sure about this, Satoru?”

Wriggling his ass in the air, he puckers his asshole in what you already know is Morse Code without needing to study the wrinkly ring. “Yeah, baby. Come on, give it to me already. I’m leaking all over the sheets for nothing.”

With a sigh, you pat his pale asscheek, signalling your approach. 

Satoru is hard to buy for — the man’s rich as hell, and a notorious shopper with a lack of impulse control. He already has everything he wants. So, when he asked you for a specific Christmas present, you were over-the-moon. Finally, you were going to get him something he’d want. 

You honestly should have known it would end up like this when the shopping list he gave you consisted of three things and three things only: a jumbo candy cane (this was non-negotiable for him), extra small condoms (he was clear that this wasn't for him, which you and the cashier, who's grown way too familiar with your antics, already knew), and lube.  

Naked, ass up, and with a ribbon tied around the base of his cock into a cockring bow, he spreads his cheeks so you can push in the long, red and white swirling stick of pure sugar and peppermint into his puckering hole. Satoru sucks in a breath, gripping the sheets. 

“Oh yeahhhh,” he moans. “That’s the good stuff. Go on, baby. Push it in deeper. I can take it.”

Thumbing the seam of his balls, you do as he says — he got you everything you wanted on your list, and way more; this is the least you can do for him. You feed the candy cane into his greedy ass, watching it disappear. And as he’s whining, whimpering, and groaning, you tease his cock. 

You tug on the length, massaging his balls here and there, and prodding his slicked-up slit. Satoru jerks back into you, back arching into a painful shape that you don’t think you could achieve yourself. All while the candy cane is stretching his gummy walls, reaching that spot that has him moaning like a pornstar. “Mmm, baby. You fuck me so good. Best Christmas present ever!”

“Uhuh.”

It’s kinda entertaining to watch him like this, you suppose. The wetness soaking your panties says something about you too. You start smiling, getting really into it, and circling the candy cane so it can press up against all the corners and spots he likes. 

But then, he says, “Yes, Suguru, harder!” and that smile drops.

“Seriously, Satoru? Again?”

He scrambles to keep you from stomping out of the room. “Babe! I’m literally kidding. Get into the Christmas spirit!”

Idk

candy cane snaps and it’s all over