riding your boyfriend satoru for the first time (o^^o)
you're already halfway down when you realize you might have bitten off more than you can handle.
satoru's cock stretches you open inch by inch, and even with all the prep—his fingers, his mouth, the way he worked you open on the bed of his dorm room until you were dripping and begging—it's still a lot. he's big. you knew that from the way he'd felt against your thigh, from the way he'd groaned when you'd wrapped your hand around him earlier. knowing and feeling are two very different things.
"easy," he murmurs, and his voice is lower than usual, rougher. his hands are on your hips, thumbs pressing into the jut of bone there, but he's not guiding you. he's holding you steady. letting you set the pace. "easy, sweetheart. breathe for me."
you do. shaky inhale through your nose, slow exhale through parted lips. your thighs are trembling where they're bracketing his hips, knees pressed into the mattress on either side of him. he's propped up against the headboard, shirt long since discarded, hair a mess of white silk falling into his eyes.
he looks wrecked already, and you've barely started.
"that's it," he says, and there's a strain in his voice that wasn't there before, a tightness around the edges. "you're doing so good. just—take your time."
you sink lower. another inch. the sensation is overwhelming—full, hot, stretching you in a way that borders on too much. your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails leaving crescents in his skin. he hisses, but it's not from pain.
"fuck," he breathes, head falling back against the headboard. "fuck, you're tight."
you pause, breath catching. "is that bad?"
"no." he laughs, but it comes out strangled. "no, it's not bad. it's—" he grits his teeth, jaw working. "it's a lot. in a good way. keep going."
you push down further, and finally, finally, you're seated fully in his lap. his cock is buried to the hilt inside you, and you feel impossibly full, stretched around him, your body struggling to accommodate his size. you stay still for a moment, just breathing, just feeling.
his hands slide up from your hips to your waist, palms warm and slightly sweaty. he's looking at you with an expression you can't quite read—hunger and wonder and something softer mixed in.
"okay?" he asks.
you nod, swallowing. "okay."
"good." he shifts beneath you, and you feel him twitch inside you, making you gasp. his lips curl into a smirk, but it's strained, his composure crumbling at the edges. "now move when you're ready. however you want. i've got you."
you start slow. experimental rolls of your hips, testing the angle, the friction. each movement sends sparks through your nerves, makes your breath stutter. his hands guide but don't push, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on your skin.
"like that," he says, voice rough. "just like that."
you find a rhythm. rocking forward, grinding down, the wet sound of your bodies meeting filling the quiet room. his head falls back again, eyes fluttering shut, and you watch his throat work as he swallows.
"you feel incredible," he rasps. "god, you have no idea how good you feel."
you pick up the pace, bracing your hands on his chest. the new angle makes him hit deeper, and you moan, head dropping forward. he takes the opportunity to lean up, catching your mouth in a kiss that's all tongue and teeth and desperation.
when he pulls back, he's breathing hard. his bangs are plastered to his forehead. there's a flush spreading across his chest.
"you're doing so well," he says, and his voice cracks on the last word. "fucking—perfect. you're perfect."
you roll your hips harder, chasing the friction, the pressure building low in your belly. his hands grip your waist tighter, and you can feel him fighting the urge to take over, to flip you and fuck you into the mattress.
"close?" he asks.
you nod, too breathless for words.
"me too." he laughs, shaky. "fuck, me too. you're gonna make me—"
he cuts himself off with a groan, his hips bucking up into you despite himself. you gasp at the sudden depth, your walls clenching around him.
"sorry," he grits out. "sorry, i just—you feel too good. i can't—"
his composure is crumbling. the infuriatingly cocky sorcerer is falling apart beneath you, his breathing ragged, his hands shaking where they hold you. he's babbling now, half-words and broken praises, telling you how good you are, how tight, how perfect.
"come for me," he gasps. "please. i need to feel you—"
you do. the command, the desperation in his voice, the way he's barely holding himself together—it pushes you over the edge. you clench around him, a broken moan falling from your lips as pleasure rips through you.
he follows a second later, with a groan that sounds almost pained, his hips thrusting up as he spills inside you. you feel every pulse, every hot rush of him filling you, and it draws your own orgasm out until you're trembling and spent.
you collapse against his chest, both of you slick with sweat, breathing hard. his arms wrap around you, pulling you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
"holy shit," he mutters.
you laugh weakly. "good?"
he tilts your chin up, kissing you slow and deep.
"perfect."
a/n: requested by a lovely anon it was so much fun 2 write hihi
suguru teaches you the correct way to worship >^_^<
"do you want to learn?" suguru asks, and his eyes meet yours again, dark and endless and utterly consuming. "do you want me to teach you how to worship properly?"
yes. the word is right there, burning on your tongue, ready to spill out. but you hesitate, because somehow saying it feels like crossing a line you can't uncross, like stepping off a cliff into an abyss you can't see the bottom of.
he waits. patient. unhurried. he knows what your answer will be. he's known since the moment he caught you lingering in the shadows, trembling and wide-eyed and full of hunger you didn't have a name for yet.
"yes," you breathe finally, and the word comes out ragged, desperate, full of all the things you've been too afraid to name.
"then kneel."
the command is quiet, but it resonates through you like a bell, like a prayer, like something inevitable. your body moves before your mind catches up, legs folding, knees meeting the cold stone floor. the impact sends a jolt through you, grounding you, reminding you that this is real, that you're here, that you've chosen this.
he looks down at you, and the approval in his eyes makes your stomach tighten with something that feels almost like triumph.
"good," the priest says for the third time, and each repetition of the word feels like a mark on your skin, a claim, a possession. "you learn so quickly. it's beautiful to watch."
he steps closer, close enough that his robes brush against your shoulders, that you can feel the heat of him radiating down like sunlight. he reaches out, and his fingers card through your hair, gentle at first, then fisting at the roots, tilting your head back further, exposing your throat to him completely.
"worship begins with submission," he says, and his voice is soft, almost tender, even as his grip tightens just enough to make your breath catch. "with accepting your place. with understanding that you are here to serve, to please, to offer yourself up as a vessel for something greater than yourself."
suguru's thumb strokes along your temple, a gesture that might be soothing if not for the intensity in his eyes, the way he holds you like you're something precious and something disposable all at once.
"repeat after me," he says. "i am yours."
your throat constricts. the words feel huge, too big to fit past your lips. but his grip in your hair tightens, just slightly, and the flash of pain sends heat pooling low in your belly.
"i am yours," you whisper, and the words feel like a key turning in a lock.
"i exist to serve you."
"i exist to serve you."
"i offer myself freely, without reservation, without shame."
your voice trembles but you repeat the words, each one carving itself into your chest, reshaping you from the inside out. when you finish, his grip loosens, and his hand slides down to cup your cheek with devastating gentleness.
"perfect," he murmurs. "you're perfect."
suguru guides you forward, and you go willingly, crawling on your knees until you're positioned between his legs, looking up at him from this new vantage point. the stone is cold against your knees. the candlelight flickers across his features, casting half his face in shadow, making him look like something out of a dream—or a nightmare, depending on your perspective.
"now," he says, and his voice drops even lower, intimate and dark, "let me teach you the next lesson."
his hand finds your chin again, tilting your face up. his other hand moves to the tie of his robe, loosening it with deliberate slowness, giving you time to watch, to anticipate, to feel the weight of every second stretching out between you.
"worship takes many forms," he says as the fabric parts, revealing the smooth expanse of his chest, the defined lines of his abdomen, the trail of dark hair that disappears below his waist. "prayer. sacrifice. offering." his robe falls open completely, and you see him, hard and waiting, the sight of him making your mouth go dry and your thighs press together. "but some of the most powerful worship is done with the mouth."
"you want this," suguru says, not a question. "i can see it in your eyes. in the way your lips part. in the way your thighs press together on the stone floor."
you nod, unable to form words.
"then ask for it."
you swallow hard. "please—please let me—"
"let you what?" his voice is silk over steel, patient and cruel. "use your words, little one. tell me what you want."
"let me take you in my mouth," you whisper, the words burning on your tongue. "let me worship you."
his smile is slow and dark. "that's better."
he steps closer, close enough that his cock is inches from your face. you can smell him—warm skin, salt, the faint trace of incense. your hands clench in your lap.
"open your mouth," he commands.
you obey instantly, lips parting, tongue resting flat. he guides himself to your lips, not pushing in, just letting you feel the weight of him against your bottom lip.
"take me in," he says, his voice dropping lower. "slow. i want to feel every inch as you take me inside."
you lean forward, parting your lips wider, and let the head of his cock slip past them. the taste of him floods your senses—warm, slightly bitter, intoxicating. you close your lips around him and your tongue darts out instinctively.
"that's it," he breathes, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head. "just like that. now take more."
you slide forward, taking him deeper, feeling him press against your tongue, then toward the back of your throat. you gag slightly and pull back, but his hand holds you steady.
"breathe through your nose," he instructs, his voice calm, hypnotic. "relax your throat. you can take all of me. i know you can."
you try, forcing yourself to relax, and when you move forward again, he slides deeper, filling your mouth completely. your eyes water but you don't pull away. you look up at him, and the sight of his half-lidded eyes, the slight flush on his cheeks, sends a thrill through you.
"good girl," suguru murmurs, and the praise makes your cunt clench. "now move. set a rhythm. let me feel your devotion."
you start to bob your head, finding a slow, steady pace. your hands grip your own thighs, desperate for something to hold onto. his hand in your hair guides you, not forcing, just directing.
"faster," he says, and you obey, your pace quickening. "deeper. yes—just like that. don't stop."
the sounds fill the chamber—wet, obscene, punctuated by his soft groans and your muffled whimpers. he tastes like need, like power, like everything you've been missing.
"look at me," he commands, and you lift your gaze, meeting his eyes while his cock is buried in your throat. "i want to see your eyes when you come undone."
you moan around him, the vibration making his hips twitch. his grip tightens in your hair.
"you're so beautiful like this," he says, his voice rough. "so desperate to please. tell me—" he pulls back slightly, letting you breathe, but only for a moment before pushing back in. "tell me who you belong to."
you can't answer with your mouth full, so you hum around him, the sound desperate and pleading.
"say it," he insists, pulling out completely, leaving you gasping, a string of saliva connecting his tip to your lips. "say it, and i'll give you what you need."
"you," you choke out, your voice wrecked. "i belong to you."
"good." he strokes himself once, smearing the moisture across his length. "now open again."
you do, and he guides himself back into your mouth, this time setting a punishing pace, fucking your throat with deep, steady thrusts. tears spill down your cheeks. your nose is pressed against his pelvis. but you don't pull away. you take it all, because this is worship, this is surrender, this is exactly what you asked for.
suguru's breathing grows ragged, his hips stuttering. "don't stop," he grunts. "don't you dare stop until i—fuck—"
he buries himself deep, and you feel him pulse against your tongue, hot cum flooding your throat. you swallow, desperate to take it all, and he groans, long and low, as he spills himself into you.
when he finally pulls back, you're trembling, your lips swollen, your face wet with tears and saliva. he strokes your cheek with his thumb, gentle now, almost tender.
"you did so well," he murmurs. "perfect little devotee."
and you know, as you kneel there, breathless and ruined, that you'll do anything to hear those words again.
or, you've had a bad day, and your boyfriend ends up taking the brunt of it.
pairings: gojo x reader, geto x reader
warnings: none, fluff
a/n: i have an aot and dc version of this post ready to go, and i'll be uploading them within the week :) i'm very excited to be writing, and i hope you all enjoy my first post!
satoru gojo
"Hey, baby, I'm home~" On normal days, the sweet words falling out of your husband's mouth have you rushing over to greet him, but you stay apathetically bunched up on the couch. There's no indication that you've heard him enter, either. You don't even look at him.
Okay, weird. But weirdness has never stopped Satoru Gojo before, so he makes his way over to you and plops down onto the couch beside you. Of course, instead of you melting into his side like you usually do, you shove him off with a disgusted scoff.
Okay. Really fucking weird. Satoru can be a diva, but he's willing to push it aside for you. Most of the time. When you come at him with a full-on attitude, though, he's only going to turn it up a notch. He reflects your energy right back at you, but it comes off as condescending when he does it.
"Y'know, I'm trying to be nice here, show you some affection. I missed you while I was gone. Didn't you miss me, too?"
"I didn't ask you to smother me the second you walked through the door," you retort.
"Right, well, remind me to keep my distance from now on."
With that, Satoru's picking himself up off the couch and strutting off to take a shower. You watch him disappear down the hallway and hear the water kick on moments later. The hollow in your chest that's been gnawing at you all day only gets wider and wider until you feel a chasmic ache forming from your heart down to your gut.
You don't know why you're upset. You don't know why you reacted the way you did, but the guilt at snapping at Satoru makes you feel worse and worse until you find yourself curled up on your side as you cry into a pillow. Your usual energy has left you, and the tears that have replaced it don't even have the decency to be dramatic. They're silent, quietly streaming down your cheeks as you sniffle and shake.
The absence of the water from Satoru's shower doesn't phase you. The creaking of the bathroom door swinging open doesn't catch your attention. You're lost in your own little world and guilty thoughts until a warm hand finds your cheek.
"Hey…" Satoru's gentle voice coaxes you into looking up, and you're met with a worried, baby blue gaze.
"I'm sorry," you whisper. All the fight has drained out of you, and you have nothing left to offer your husband except yourself, in all your fragile glory.
Satoru shakes his head and climbs onto the couch, pressing your back against the cushions and your front against his chest. "I know. It's been hard recently, hmm?"
Now that you're folded up in the warmth of Satoru's arms, the weight you've been carrying is so much easier to bear. As much as you hate placing your burdens on his already strained shoulders, Satoru's never complained about it. Being there for you is the one thing on this planet that's guaranteed to bring him solace.
"Just relax, sweets," he murmurs, rubbing slow patterns along your back. "Nothing's big enough to take my baby down. You're too strong for that."
suguru geto
Suguru Geto has the patience of a saint and the conflict resolution skills of a licensed therapist, skills you learn awfully quick when your best friend's name is Satoru Gojo. Those very same abilities have been honed and fine-tuned over the years and are currently the only things keeping him from snapping at you.
"Suguru, you're breathing too loud." He was sitting across the room from you, scrolling on his phone.
"Suguru, you're wearing the wrong kind of socks." What's so bad about plain white socks?
"Suguru, you're staring at me."
That one gets him.
"That's my job, pretty girl." He smiles, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your hair, only to let out a sharp sigh when you smack his hand away. "You're abusing me."
"That's not what abuse is, you little—"
"What? I'm a little what?" Suguru looks you right in your eyes until you're unable to meet his gaze. "Don't be shy. Tell me what you were going to say."
Suguru tuts and reaches out to tilt your head toward him once more; however, his heart nearly stops in his chest when he sees the shiny tears pooling in your eyes. "Oh no…hey," he whispers.
"I'm sorry, 'guru. I've been feeling off all day, and I just—" Suguru cuts you off by squishing you against his chest. His big hands smooth down a few wayward strands of your hair, and he places a kiss to the top of your head.
"It's okay," he murmurs soothingly, the vibrations of his deep voice soothing your mind and your heart. "I can take it. Your anger, your sadness…if you need to show it someone, I'm right here. Always. Never feel as though you have to hide from me."
all written work and dividers belong to @ackpplepie!! do not plagiarize, feed my work into ai, or translate it. i do not own the characters or images used above.
ᝰ.ᐟ choso begging you to squeeze him with your thighs while eating you out ⸝⸝ 18+ mdni
"ah—cho, please—"
the words broke apart in your throat, dissolving into a ragged, breathless moan that echoed softly in the quiet bedroom. you gripped the damp bedsheets on either side of your head, your knuckles turning white as his tongue traced a slow, agonizingly deep stroke right over your clit.
he was relentless. he had been down there for what felt like hours, his heavy, rhythmic hums vibrating right through your skin every time you cried out his name.
"f-fuck—feels so good," you gasped, your hips lifting off the mattress instinctively, chasing the friction of his mouth. "right there—please..."
choso didn't speak. he only let out a low, dark growl of approval against your wet cunt, his large hands sliding up the insides of your thighs to hold you open wider. the deliberate, heavy rhythm of his mouth was blurring your vision, driving you past your absolute limit.
every lick was perfectly calculated, heavy and soaked with intention, until a particularly sharp, blinding wave of pleasure rippled straight through your spine.
your body reacted before your mind could register it. seeking an anchor against the overwhelming sensation, your thighs clamped shut instinctively, trapping his head securely between them.
choso let out a muffled, surprised sound against your folds, the sudden restriction cutting off his breath.
panicking, you immediately opened your legs back up, your breath hitching as your face burned with embarrassment. "oh my god, baby, i'm so sorry, i didn't mean to—i wasn't thinking—"
"don't," he cut you off, his voice raspy, deeper, and rougher than you had ever heard it. he looked up, his dark eyes dilated so wide they looked almost entirely black, a faint, dark flush creeping up his neck and dusting his cheekbones.
he gripped the insides of your knees, his fingers digging into your skin with a possessiveness that made your blood run hot. "shit—do it again."
"w-what? but i—"
"please," he begged, the word slipping out with a desperate, breathless edge that made your stomach flip. his chest was heaving. "squeeze me again. oh fuck—just like that, baby. lock your legs."
the raw hunger in his expression made it impossible to refuse. slowly, hesitantly, you brought your thighs back together, locking him in place once more, applying a firm, steady pressure against his neck.
a low, ragged groan escaped him, vibrating directly against your sensitive bud. he buried his face back into you, his tongue working with a newfound, frantic intensity that completely derailed your thought process. "harder," he mumbled against your pussy, his hands sliding up to your hips, fingers bruisingly tight as he anchored you. "squeeze harder, baby."
you complied, tightening your hold, completely overwhelmed by the blinding intensity of it. you were caught so deeply in the throes of your own approaching climax that the world narrowed down to just the pressure of your legs and the wicked, relentless motion of his mouth.
because of the sensory overload, you didn't notice the subtle, rhythmic motion beneath you at first. you didn't realize that with every tight squeeze of your thighs restricting his airflow, choso was heavily, desperately humping his clothed length straight into the mattress. he was completely losing himself in the friction, his hips rolling in a tight, frantic pattern against the sheets, riding the intoxicating sensation of being choked by you.
your climax hit like a freight train, your walls pulsing violently around his tongue as a loud cry left your lips. you squeezed him tight, your thighs locking like a vice as you rode the wave.
right as you peaked, choso let out a choked, broken sound. his whole body went rigid beneath you. his hips gave one last, hard, desperate shove into the mattress, his fingers digging so deeply into your hips it was almost painful. he trembled violently, his breath catching in a long, shuddering gasp as he buried his face entirely in your thigh, hiding himself away as he spent.
as the sparks in your vision began to fade and your breathing slowed, you gradually loosened the grip of your legs. choso slumped forward, resting his forehead against your stomach, his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow pants.
it was only then, as the quiet returned to the room, that you noticed the heavy, uneven thumping of his heart against your leg, and the distinct, damp heat pressing through the fabric of his trousers right where he had been pinning himself to the bed.
you blinked down at him, your hand coming up to rest in his dark hair. "cho...?"
he didn't move for a long moment, completely spent, his shoulders still twitching slightly. when he finally looked up, his face was completely flushed, eyes heavy and hooded with a profound, dazed satisfaction. he swallowed hard, a sheepish but utterly dark look in his eyes as he realized you had figured it out. he hadn't even touched himself; he had finished purely from the friction of the bed and the suffocating pressure of your thighs.
"told you," he murmured, his voice a gravelly whisper as he leaned up to kiss your jaw, completely unbothered by his own ruined state. "i liked it."
⋆୨୧˚ ✦ SUMMARY In which Gojo is stupidly and utterly obsessed with you.
CREDS. gojo art - thatsallitchief, pics found on Pinterest, divider by @/strangergraphics
CONTENT. FLUFF Gojo being a hazard to himself and society, not rlly proofread. WC. 0.6k
A/N. You missed me sooooo badddd ahahaha you wanted me back sooooo badddd hahahahah......
You and Satoru had an interesting relationship.
Formed through a combination of Gojo's nagging and complete inability to respect others' boundaries, you were dragged into what could only be described as a one-sided romantic (non)friendship—against your will of course.
The moment you walked into Jujutsu High, you already felt it.
felt him.
That unmistakable presence that made the hairs on your neck stand and your eye twitch in pure annoyance.
Because Satoru gojo was standing in the hallways like a six-foot-three LED billboard on the Vegas strip, waving at you with both of his lanky arms like a toddler lacking self awareness.
"Y/N!!!" he shouted as if you were across a football field and not a mere 10 feet away.
you sigh, and blink once. "Why are you yelling."
"Wanted to make sure you saw me," he shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning against the wall.
He brings a hand up to push off his blindfold, revealing his terrifyingly blue eyes.
They sparkled. Literally. Like someone installed RGB lighting in his head.
"put the blindfold back on please," you said. "you look like a glowstick."
Gojo gasps, clutching his chest and stumbling back. "You wound me. These eyes are a national treasure. Wait no- global."
"no they're a safety hazard."
"you're so hot when you're mean to me," he sighs, trailing behind you while you ran around the teachers lounge moving papers and files.
"don't you have a job to do, Gojo?" You finally turn to him.
"Yeah. Admiring you," he winks at you.
"Do you have something in your eyes?"
"Just blinded by your beauty," he smiles.
Eventually, after threatening to report him to HR, he ran off to go harrass another innocent person while you got to working on planning your next lesson for the first years.
for a little while at least, the halls were quiet. calm, even. Until they werent.
Gojo teleported to your side, leaning down so close you could feel his hair tickle the side of your face.
"Hi," he whispered. "miss me?"
"no," you instantly replied.
he froze before grinning. "Liar."
you didnt look up from your paperwork. "What do you want?"
"you." he sat in the chair beside you, kicking his up onto the table and right by your head. you glared at him.
"soooo," he began, "when are we going on that date you havent agreed to yet?"
"we're not."
"Great! I'll pick you up at seven."
"Gojo-"
he vanished before you could finish.
then reappeared. "seven thirty?"
"NO."
“Eight?”
“Stop.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, hands up in defense. “We’ll compromise.”
You cap your pen before setting it down. “On what.”
He smiled, eyes growing wide in excitement behind his blindfold.
“You pick the time. I’ll pick the place.”
You gave him a blank stare, although you for some reason couldn't help but find his persistence charming.
“I hate you.”
"yeah you hate me now, but you'll love me eventually," he says, tugging gently at a strand of your hair.
"when is eventually?" you ask.
"when we're married with 3 kids and a dog and a fish and a house on the lakeside," he explains.
"right..."
you turn your head, looking at the indents in his blindfold where his eyes are. you saw the way his hair stuck up in every which way, the white strands reflecting the dull overhead lights.
you always noticed the way his shoulders untensed when he was around you, and how his infinity always faltered.
The way he looked at you like he'd already made up his mind about you years ago, when you first made your way through the threshold of Jujutsu High.
That was the problem.
I mean, you said he was annoying, but you never said he was ugly. it's not that he wasn't the typical guy you would go for—because he was very much your type—you were just scared to be in a relationship with the life you live.
You didn't want to lose someone you cared so deeply about, and unfortunately for you, you dont think Gojo is going to let you go anytime soon.
tags 18+ minors dni !! very self indulgent hehe … i’m so soft for him y’all don’t understand 🥹
his lips are cold at first. always cold, like he’s been pressing his mouth to the rim of a glass full of ice just to feel something. you’ve learned to expect it but it still makes you gasp every time, that first shock of chill against your warm mouth, and he loves it. you can feel him smile into the kiss, that infuriating curve of his lips that says got you.
he doesn’t rush. satoru gojo could move faster than light if he wanted to but he kisses you like the world outside doesn’t exist. his hands find your face first, always. long fingers spanning your jaw, thumbs stroking over your cheekbones in slow hypnotic circles. he tilts your head to the side and deepens the kiss, easing you into it, letting you feel every second of it. his bottom lip slots between yours and he just rests there for a moment, breathing you in.
then his tongue traces the seam of your lips, asking, always asking even though he knows the answer will be yes. you open for him and he hums into your mouth, pleased and low, the vibration traveling straight down your spine. he tastes like sugar and something sharper underneath, like the candy he definitely stole from your stash and the mint gum he chewed to cover it up. his tongue curls against yours lazy and thorough, exploring, and his teeth graze your bottom lip just hard enough to make your breath catch. he soothes it immediately with a soft sucking kiss that leaves your lip slick and tingling.
his mouth wanders. it’s a problem, actually, because he can’t stay in one place for long. he pulls back from your lips and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then the bow of your upper lip, then the tiny crease where your smile would be if you weren’t so breathless. he kisses the tip of your nose, your cupid’s bow, your cheek. by the time he’s finished mapping your face your eyes are closed and your lips are parted.
he kisses your closed eyelids, left then right, feather-light. his lips brush your lashes and you feel them flutter against his mouth. he exhales a laugh and the air ghosts warm over your skin.
then he’s at your jaw, trailing open-mouthed kisses down to your chin, then up the other side. he finds the spot just beneath your ear and latches on, sucking gently, not enough to leave a mark but enough to make your fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt. he kisses the shell of your ear, the delicate skin behind it, the curve where your neck meets your shoulder. he breathes there, nose pressed to your skin. “you’re so warm,” he says, “smell so good.”
he kisses your throat. your collarbones. the hollow at the base of your neck where he can feel your heartbeat rabbiting against his mouth. he stays there for a long moment, just feeling it, and when he pulls back his eyes are dark and half-lidded and his lips are pink and kiss bitten and wet.
he kisses you on the mouth again, harder this time, less controlled. his composure slips and his hands drop from your face to your waist, your hips, pulling you flush against him. he kisses you like he’s starving, like the taste of you is the only thing that keeps him human. his tongue slides against yours and his teeth click against yours because he’s smiling again, he’s always smiling, even now. especially now.
his hands roam. up your sides, down your back, fingers splaying wide like he’s trying to touch all of you at once. they settle on your lower back and he presses you closer, impossibly closer, and he’s so warm now, all that cold burned away by the heat between you. he kisses the corner of your mouth again, your chin, the tip of your nose. a quick peck to your forehead. your left cheek. your right cheek. back to your lips.
he pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours, and you can feel his lashes brush your brow.
“hey.” he says, voice wrecked.
“hey.” you breathe back.
he kisses the bridge of your nose. “you’re my favorite.”
you roll your eyes but you’re smiling, he can feel it.
⡴ utterly whipped gojo finally convincing you to let him sleep over ⡴ 0.5k words ⡴ [ 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 ]
it’s been 5 minutes since he’s finished inside you and he’s been pressed into your body, face nuzzled into your shoulder, since. his dick that he lazily pulled back into his briefs lies along your stomach while he lazes on top of you.
“satoru.” you mumble softly. well, as loud as you can with tufts of thick white hair half obstructing your mouth. he hums into your neck in acknowledgement. you push away his hair lying by your mouth. “i’ve got work tomorrow. go.”
you nearly for bad for telling him to leave. it’s just past midnight and he hasn’t even begged to say yet. yet.
“please.” he whines into your neck. he clutches your closer in his toned arms that are snaked around you. “just for tonight. i promise i’ll leave in the morning. just…” he trails off, whimpering muffledly below your ear.
he’s growing on you and you feel gross for admitting to it—to your friends. if you told him his ego’d skyrocket unbearably. you’re giving yourself a mental peptalk to not give into his stereotypical heartthrob charm and shoo him away like usual. thank god you don’t have his pathetic little bug eyes staring up at you or else you would’ve caved already.
“satoru, you know—” he cuts you off.
“it’s late.” he squeezes you even harder. he kisses up your jaw to try and convince you. “just let me stay here tonight. i’ll be good, won’t even notice me, baby.”
you know he will. he’ll be as silent and in-obnoxious as he can be in hopes you’ll let him stay over again some day. you nearly say something in retort but he pushes himself up and stares down at you while he speaks up again. his kicked puppy dog eyes bore into yours while he pleads shamelessly.
“please.” he frowns. he looks pretty like this, still worn out from fucking you and even more pathetic than usual.
you dart your eyes away from him as you speak.
“tonight and tonight only.” he leans forward, near inches away from you like he’s expecting a kiss while he widely grins. his dimples pierce through the gush of his porcelain cheeks. he giggles stupidly. “shut up.” you try and push him off of you but to no avail.
he jolts his head forward and starts messily peppering kisses over your face, jaw and forehead. he makes annoying, exaggerated ‘mwah’ sounds as he does.
“thank you—thank you, baby.” he says as he finally pulls back. his eyes study you as he notices a slight curl of your lips. usually he’d yell out how this means you must love him but he promised to be on his best behavior. so he’ll smugly realize you actually like him in his head until morning.
You'd always heard horror stories of friends staying the night at each other's houses and not knowing how to work their showers. You'd also considered yourself smarter than the average cookie because that has never happened to you. Most showers seem self explanatory.
And then, you stay the night at your boyfriend's for the first time and take a look at his stupidly expensive shower.
You eye the four knobs that control temperature and the dozen jets, two waterfalls (one higher, one lower (what is the lower one for?)), the removable showerhead and what you're assuming is the rainfall head. The symbols on the knobs may as well be hieroglyphics, giving next to no insight on how to turn this mother fucker on without being soaked immediately by the jets.
You don't even try. You wrap yourself in a towel and walk back into the adjoining bedroom, shaking your head with your eyebrows raised.
"Satoru, what the fuck is that?" you ask, motioning behind you to the bathroom.
"A shower..?" he says, looking up from his phone. His eyebrows furrow in his own confusion.
"Yes," you reply through grit teeth. "How do I turn it on?"
"Oh!" He jumps up from his bed and crosses the room to you, placing a hand on your hip and a kiss to your lips as he leads you back into the bathroom. "Why didn't you just say that, love? I'm more than willing to show you."
Satoru opens the glass door and steps in the shower, dragging you along with him. He points at the individual knobs and explains each of the symbols, explaining which is best for which occasion - the misters for when you're hot, rainfall for normal showers, waterfall for when you want to feel like you're lost in the jungle and it's been a week and you're losing hope of being found, etc.
You're giggling by the time he finishes his spiel and he's got his own 1000 kilowatt smile plastered on his face and turned on you.
"So what'll it be tonight?" he asks, clapping his hands together. "The waterfall is a personal favorite."
"A normal shower, please."
"Can do, baby." He kisses your cheek and sets the shower to your preferred setting. "The temperature control turns the water on," he says, stepping out of the shower.
Your towel drops to the floor just as he's exiting, the sound making his head crane back around to catch a glimpse of your ass before you step into the fog of the shower.
"You know, on second thought," he says, grabbing your attention as his shirt joins your towel. "Maybe we should shower together. Just in case you have questions."
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