𓂃 𝜗℘ older bf!gojo loves going at it while you wear his hoodie :: cw. smut, piv, pwp, size difference.
satoru simply can’t hide his desire for you. no matter how much he tries to keep his hands to himself—it never works. this time it’s no different.
you were sitting on the couch with his hoodie on and the older man couldn’t stop himself from getting hard. you just looked so adorable in his hoodie, which was way too big on you.
“fuckk— ‘m sorry, baby,” satoru apologises between shallow breaths. he’s got you face down with your ass up on the bed. his hands use your hips as leverage for his intense thrusts.
there is no mercy in the pace he’s setting—he is too far gone to, “you just look so fuckin’ good in my hoodie. can’t resist.”
the inability to resist going any harder on you also shows in his constant, harsh movements. the squelchy sounds your cunt make due to your own wetness—and the few loads that satoru had dumped into you in the span of half an hour—echo throughout your shared space.
satoru’s fingers slither up your back, diving under the material of your (his) hoodie before moving up to fondle your breasts. all while his throbbing cock molds your insides to accommodate its hefty size.
“you should try on my clothes more often,” your boyfriend suggests while he leans his upper body down, his chest flush against your back. his hot breath tickles your ear, “i wanna try fuckin’ you in all of ‘em.”
you moan and shiver at the thought, which forms a sly grin on satoru’s face. he sighs before leaning back again, putting his hips in a better angle so he can hit all of your sweet spots—trying desperately to hear you scream for him.
the sight of your plump ass jiggling with each slam of his hips and slap of his hand nearly drives him to the edge again. satoru slips his wet dick out of your pussy for a second, pumping the length and using the tip to scoop up the droplets of his cum that escaped back inside you.
he resumes his harsh thrusts, his ocean blue eyes taking in every jolt your body makes.
“mmh shit, you’d look so good in that black shirt of mine,” satoru groans. he can already imagine how the compression shirt would define your tits and waist—how your nipples would poke through the thin material.
you babble incomprehensible words after lifting your head from the pillow. your lungs long for air and your hands claw at the bedsheets. he can easily decipher the meaning behind those movements: you’re about to reach another orgasm.
“aht aht, sweetheart. jus’ a little more, ‘kay?” satoru pouts, kissing the back of your head in a gesture of comfort.
he pats your ass with a grin after you agree to hold back for a bit longer, “that’s my girl.”
those biceps—pale, carved muscle with a single prominent vein tracing each arm like a roadmap of his strength. they flex with casual power, the kind that could pin you down, hold you steady, render you completely at his mercy. and his forearms? they could crush you between them and you'd thank him for it. you'd beg him to, actually, your voice tipping to a plea while he watches with that knowing smirk.
then there's his scent—cedar and aged wood, something primal that clings to the fabric of his clothes, seeps into yours, deep into your pillows until you can't escape it even when he's gone. you could press your face into the curve of his neck and inhale like you're starving for it, sniffing his pheromones like some wild dog in heat. and he'd chuckle, that low rumble of amusement, fingers threading through your hair as he encourages you to continue. go ahead, his body language says. take what you need.
his chest is a work of art—detailed to precision, muscles carved like some greek god statue you'd admire once, then do a shameless double-take just to take it in again. that white happy trail peeks just above the waistband of his boxers (calvin klein, specifically), a teasing promise of what he's packing beneath. every line of him seems designed to make you ache.
and his hands. god, his hands. large and calloused from years of fighting, yet impossibly gentle when they touch you. they roam across your body like he's mapping uncharted territory for the first time, even though he's traced these curves a thousand times before. when he moves them through the air—those elegant, casual gestures during conversation—you almost feel betrayed that they're not on you instead. when they finally do settle against your skin, they cover at least half your body, claiming you with their size alone.
six foot five inches of pure presence. those long limbs stride with such careless ease, towering over everyone in the room, and he doesn't even seem to notice the way people have to crane their necks to meet his eyes. he moves through space like he owns it, because he does.
but your guilty pleasure? that back. broad and sculpted, muscles flexing beneath pale skin with every movement, just waiting for the drag of your nails. waiting for you to mark him the way he marks you—with evidence of desperation, of pleasure, of need that can't be contained.
nia's notes: tbh, i just need him in my bed on me, crushing me with his weight, until i cant breathe and then i'd press my lips onto his and let him kiss me till i cant breathe, and we can nap together forever
────୨ৎ──── Satoru liked having you on his lap ────୨ৎ────
"My, my, my, what do we have here?" Satoru drawled in a lazy tone, a smug grin curved his lips as you climbed his lap. His hands immediately found your waist, squeezing it gently.
You didn't say anything, exhaustion and annoyance etched on your face, and sipped deeply in your bones. With your face buried in the crook of Satoru's neck, breathing in the frosty scent of his cologne, mixed with something so uniquely him, you mumbled almost unintelligibly.
"'m tired."
The smug grin of his melted into a soft, tender smile at your words. His hand cupped the back of your head and massaged it, his thumb ran soothing circles against your back.
Your body almost went lax in his warm, comforting embrace.
"I see, pretty girl," his lips grazed your temple in the softest of kisses, all the playful demeanour gone at the sight of you, so desperately seeking his comfort. "I got you. Shitty day?"
"The shittiest."
His chest rumbled with a string of chuckles. With a soft sigh, you moved a little to squeeze your cheek against it, and the soothing rhythmic thump-thump of his heart calmed you down in a way nothing in the world could.
The soft nuzzle of Satoru's chin sent you into a semi-drowse state, warmth spreaded your veins, and your chest ached with tenderness for him.
Your voice came softer than you expected. "Don't you have stuff to do?"
A scoff left his lips, and you had already imagined an exaggerated look of annoyance on his face. A little smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.
"Paperwork can wait. I have something way more important in my arms."
And you were beyond grateful for this.
a/n: that would solve so many of my problems...animated divider by @/pixopix. the other one by me.
To say Satoru was obsessed with your lips would be an understatement. He could stare at them all day. And when you’re kissing; you constantly have to push him away just so you can get some air.
“Toru.” You suck in a breath, “I can’t breathe.”
He whines, “But baby I need you.,” He pouts his lips, leaning back in.
And of course, you oblige. You’d sacrifice anything for him, even your precious oxygen.
But this particular morning, you’re leaning against the kitchen counter, scrolling through your phone and eating an apple. Every time you take a bite, your lips are covered in a glossy sheen of juice from the fruit. You’re oblivious to the fact that Satoru is practically drooling on the couch in the living room, continuing to giggle about some dumb video on your phone. After a particularly juicy bite, you wipe your thumb across your bottom lip and Satoru can’t help but jump off the couch, making his way towards you. He wraps his arms around your waist, slotting his head into your neck.
“Baaaabyyyy.” He whines.
You set your phone down, scratching the back of his head, “What’s up?” You wipe your lips off with a paper towel before planting a kiss on the side of his head.
“I miss you.” He nuzzles further into your neck.
You giggle at his hairs tickling you, “Toru, I’m right here, and we cuddled all morning.” You pick up your apple again, the crunch perking Satoru’s ears.
He removes his face from your neck, tilting his head to look at you, “Can I get a taste?”
“Sure!” You lift the apple to his mouth, but he has other ideas. He spins you around, your back pressed against the countertop. “Satoru!” You giggle.
He takes the fruit out of your hand, placing it on the counter before crashing his lips into yours. “mmmf” You groan, completely caught off guard. His hands slide up your sides, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest until he cradles the back of your head and deepens the kiss further. He nips your bottom lip, causing you to gasp and using the opportunity to slip his tongue inside and explore the rest of your mouth. “Mmmf, T-T” You try to speak, pushing at his chest. You claw at his shirt, gripping the material before smacking his chest. He pulls away, lips glossy and swollen, pupils blown out wide and chest heaving. You try to push him a little further away to catch your breath cause you know if he stays close, he’s gonna dive back in.
“You’re gonna—“ You suck in a breath, “You’re gonna kill me.”
He smiles, “What a way to die. Attached to my lovers lips.” He steps closer.
You push at his chest, “Toru, I love you and I absolutely love kissing you, but goodness give me a minute,” You laughed, “I didn’t even have a chance to take a breath before you latched onto me.”
He pouts, “I told you I wanted a taste.”
“I thought you meant you wanted to take a bite, not suck on my lips like an octopus.” You giggled.
“So you hate me?”
“Oh stop.” You gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him close, “You’re so dramatic.” You stand on your tip toes and he instinctively leans down, lips ghosting over yours and a smile gracing his face.
“You love it.” His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.
“Yeah, I do.” You smile, pulling him in for another breathtaking kiss.
I was eating an apple this morning when this idea came to me. I love a good pair of glossed up lips and so does Satoru 🤤
*Please do not repost, copy, or use my works to feed your AI*
the smallest stuff sets you off. a sad commercial, gojo forgetting to text you good morning, even when he teases you just a tiny bit too hard. tears spring up so easily, your lip wobbling and those big watery doe eyes make him melt instantly.
arguments with him never last long. you start sniffling five seconds in, voice starting to crack, and gojo’s folding immediately- scooping you into his lap to kiss away your tears, murmuring sorrys against your cheeks until you’re giggling again.
but nothing compares to how pretty you look crying when he’s got you stuffed full of cock.
+
you’re on your stomach, hugging the pillow so tight like its the only thing keeping you grounded, your face buried halfway into the soft fabric while gojo kneels behind you, his long powerful thighs bracketing your smaller frame. he’s been fucking you in this position for what feels like hours— your pussy so sloppy and used that every thrust sends creamy white rings frothing down his long shaft, dripping onto the sheets in thick messy strings.
you’ve cum so many times your thighs keep trembling uncontrollably, little aftershocks making your hips jerk. gojo only came once so far… and he never pulled out and just kept grinding through his own release, using his own cum as lube to fuck you even deeper.
broken sobs spill from your throat with every punishing snap of his hips. the room filled with the wet squelching sounds of your cunt getting pounded, mixing with the sharp slap slap slap of his hips against your ass. your whole body jolting forward with each mean thrust, pillow muffling your loud wails until he yanks your head back gently by the throat.
his long fingers wrap around your slender neck, not squeezing, just holding— forcing your tear-streaked face up so you can look at him with those glassy eyes.he leans down, his sweat-damp white hair falling into his face, and presses the softest kiss to your sweaty forehead.
“mmh yeah, baby?” he coos, voice low and velvet-soft even as his cock bullies against your cervix again. “mhmm… look at you, so pretty when you cry f’me.”
you whimper, trying to nod, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth. “t-toru… ‘s too much… feels so full…”
“i know, baby. you’re doin’ so good though.” he nods with you, eyes locked intensely on yours. “this little pussy feels fuckin’ incredible… grippin’ me so tight, creamin’ all over my cock like you can’t get enough.”
he gave you another hard thrust and it punched the air from your lungs. your legs kick weakly and shook violently as you keen— high and desperate. he pauses for just a second, admiring the way your whole body quivers, then brings his palm down with a sharp smack on your ass. the jiggle making him groan.
“fuck… there she is.” he starts pounding you again even harder, meaner. he shoved your face back down into the sheets, your sobs turn muffled and frantic, tears soaking the fabric in dark patches.
“if you keep makin’ sounds like that, baby,” he pants, a shit-eating grin forming into his lips even though you can’t see it, “the neighbors are gonna think i’m murdering you back here.”
you couldnt respond even when you want to. youre completely cockdrunk, brain melted into nothing but the thick stretch of him, the filthy drag against your walls, the way his fat tip kisses your womb over and over.
he reaches around then his fingers finds your swollen clit, rubbing messy circles while he ruts deeper. slick gushes out with every pull-back, coating his balls, dripping down your thighs in sticky rivulets. your pussy squelches louder, creamier, fluttering like it’s trying to suck him in forever.
“gonna fill you up again, yeah?” he whispers right against your ear, hot breath making you shiver. “stuff this greedy cunt full ‘til it’s leakin’ me for days. you want that, don’t you, pretty? want me to breed you stupid?”
you can only sob out a garbled “yesyesyes—” legs spasming as another orgasm rips through you. your eyes cross completely, tongue lolling just a little like you’ve been fucked into oblivion, tears streaming endlessly while your greedy walls clamp down so hard around his pistoning cock that he hisses.
“fuuuck— there we go… good girl… milk me just like that.” he slams in one final time, burying himself to the hilt and cums with a low, wrecked groan, flooding you with another thick load of cum, so much it spills out around his base even while he’s still pulsing inside. he grinds slowly, circling his hips that makes you gasp, pushing every drop deeper, making sure it stays right deep inside of you.
when he finally eases up, he doesn’t pull out yet. just drapes his bulky frame over your tiny, trembling one, caging you in under him, his lips brushing your sweaty temple. he started pressing lazy open-mouthed kisses along your tear-streaked cheek, your jaw, the corner of your trembling mouth. anywhere his mouth could reach.
“there’s my pretty girl,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss the saltwater tracks on your face, hips rocking gently now, stirring his cum inside you. “you okay? didn’t hurt you, did i?”
“you could never hurt me, toru.” you whisper, nuzzling into the pillow.
“good. means you can handle more.”
before you could even react, he’s already flipping you onto your back where he could see your face and then slides in back slowly this time with a hot grin on his dumb pretty face.
𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ── .✦ mdni (18+), smut, dirty talk, praise kink, grinding, dry hümping, car sex, creāmpié, piv, squírting, pwp, f!reader, reader is wearing a skirt [2k]
The car is nice and sleek and you’d probably appreciate it more if Gojo weren’t making out with you in the back of it, hands groping at you lewdly as he kisses you. Parting from you just so he can suck on your lower lip and make you moan, his own sound pulling from him in response. His kiss is messy but feels so good, brain focused on how he licks and sucks and nips at your lips.
You’re crawling onto his lap and straddling him in the backseat so you can press closer to him, the kiss making you needy for him. Your skirt rides up over your ass as your hips grind down into his lap, his hard dick pressing up against your panties hotly. Wet from your cunt leaking into the material of them and making the glide slick.
Gojo laughs airily, teasing, “You like me that much?”
“Yeah,” you answer mindlessly, not really seeing any point in lying.
Your honesty makes him groan, cock jerking in his pants. “Fuck– aren’t you sweet.”
“I’m so sweet,” you agree, kissing him again. Licking against his tongue and delighting in the shudder that runs through him.
It’s like something snaps in him and he’s kissing you rough, hands on your hips encouraging you to keep grinding down into his erection. Thrusting up to meet you, fingers digging into the soft skin of your thighs. He’s kissing you breathless, his hot mouth making you more and more malleable to his will.
Seeking your own pleasure greedily, humping down into his dick, angling your clit to hit against him. Mouth popping off his and panting, sucking in air as you keep rutting down into him. Head dropping to his shoulder as you huff and continue riding him through all the clothes. Clinging to him desperately as you give in to your desires, shame thrown away as you let yourself indulge.
He lets you do what you want, enjoying your desperation immensely, not having expected it from you. “You want me to pull out my dick, sweetie?”
Your mouth waters at the idea, eyes glancing up at him with the answer sparkling in them. Gojo groans at the look on your face, biting into his lower lip while grinning, “You’re gonna kill me.”
But he follows through, pulling his cock from his pants and you’re dripping into your panties even more at the length of him. Thick and long and you want him inside you right this second but he doesn’t let you, hands on your hips guiding you back down to his dick without taking off your panties.
The material of your underwear has completely moulded to your cunt with how soaked through they are, folds parted underneath by Gojo’s dick. You whine and fold forward into him again, fingers fumbling with his shirt and undoing the buttons clumsily. Exposing his skin to you, his chest and abs have your pussy creaming into your panties. Fingers drawing down his body, mouth kissing and sucking hickeys into his skin.
Gojo whimpers, taken off guard, the tip of his cock weeping precum onto his abs as you keep sliding up and down him. He sounded cute, your heart skipped a beat in your chest and your need flared. You pull back from him, hips still firmly grinding into his dick but your upper half leans away from him. Your hands are on the car seats behind you to give you some stability.
Faltering in pace because Gojo’s pulling your shirt and bra up over your tits, large hands groping and playing with them. Pinching at your nipples and rolling them just to make you shudder and whine.
“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” his eyes are filled and overwhelmed by his lust, “bet you’re gonna feel divine wrapped around my cock.”
“Satoru– hnn– pull– hng–” you’re struggling to get out, whinging, “pull my panties to– hah– the side, please.”
He hums thoughtfully, “Hm, I don’t know…” the tip of his finger plays with the edge of your underwear, “I left them in place for a reason.”
You sound pathetic as you whimper at him, brows pulled up as you keep sliding along his dick, “Why?”
“No special reason,” he smirks, “just wanted to see how needy you could get.”
A sad and offended noise leaves you, frustrated, “Pull them to the– hng– the side or I won’t have sex with you.”
“I don’t believe you,” he singsongs.
You whine his name to him, “Satoru.” Feeling so needy that it hurts to not have the stimulation you want.
Lower lip wobbling a little as you almost cry and Gojo lights up at it, laughing breathlessly, “Okay, okay,” he tugs them to the side so that your bare pussy is now gliding up and down his cock, “fuck!– you’re so– hng– ohh– you’re so cute.”
“Ah!– hnn– feels– oh my god– feels so good.” Both having been deprived for so long that just the skin-on-skin contact has you almost cumming.
“You’re so wet– holy fuck– hah–” Gojo’s losing it, his cock twitching against your pussy, “You feel so fucking good.”
His head drops to the back of the car headrest, eyes lidded as he watches how you’re grinding down into him. Stomach glistening from the mix of your slick and his pre dripping onto him, he could die like this and he’d be happy. Thrusting up once out of nowhere just to throw your rhythm off a little and make you squirm, his smile pleased with himself.
“Keep going, sweetie,” he encourages, like he wasn’t the reason why you’d faltered.
You whinge at him, complaining, “I– hnn– I was about to– hmph–”
“You were? Fuck, keep going, yeah?” he’s suddenly excited, “Cum all over my dick like this.”
It only takes another few glides of his dick through your folds for you to be cumming like he’d asked you to, coating his cock in your creamy cum. Gojo’s just about losing his mind at it, his tip catching on your hole drives him mental. Able to feel the way you’re fluttering and twitching from your orgasm.
He pants out, “I’m gonna– fuck– I’m also– hah–”
Catching onto what he’s trying to say, you drag your cunt to the tip of his dick and then sit down the length of him. It has him biting out a loud moan and shooting up straight, cumming so much more suddenly than he thought he was going to. He’s grabbing at you and pulling you back into his lap, hugging you tight to him as he starts relentlessly thrusting up into your tight hole.
Groaning and whining into the crook of your neck as he fucks you stupid, his own cum leaking out around his dick with every thrust in and out. He bites at your skin and you shudder around him, he feels fucking insane as he loses himself in your gooey walls.
You’re so sensitive and happy, the feeling of finally being stuffed full feels like heaven. Letting him take you how he wants, beyond pleased to finally have him stuffing you full. It’s hot and sloppy, the pair of you making an obscene mess in the backseat of his car.
“You’re so pretty, had– hnn– had me in awe when you walked in,” Gojo’s babbling at you.
His out of nowhere praise has your cunt fluttering around him and he chuckles, noticing it immediately. Praising you again, “Beautiful girl with a divine cunt.”
“Shut up,” you whine at him, like your body isn’t reacting viscerally to his words.
“So cute when you’re desperate, makes me want to tease you,” he kisses your cheek before biting at it a little, “pretty girl likes being praised? You like being told how much I love your pussy?”
You deny it, nuzzling your face into the side of his neck, “No.”
“No?” he asks, “then why do you keep reacting to it? I can feel the way you drool around me, how your little cunt twitches and loves on me.”
Playing dumb with him, “I– hnn– don’t know.”
“I think you do,” he whispers low into your ear and it has you shuddering again, “hmm, sensitive ears too.”
He’s picking up on all your weak spots so effortlessly, able to read you easily and it’s embarrassing. Suddenly, he’s shifting you both, hips stilled and dick kissing your womb as he holds you still as he moves you so you’re lying on your back across the backseats.
“I’m gonna have to bring you home with me so I can fuck your properly,” he comments.
Hands on your hips holding your lower half off the seats a little, using his position on his knees as leverage to fuck you a little more effectively. Pace faster and angled more perfectly, fat dick brushing up against all your sweet spots. You’re going cross eyed as he keeps thrusting into you, your pussy swallowing him in greedily.
Gojo feels like he’s in heaven, your plush cunt so hot and snug that it’s got him thinking he’s died. It’s so adorable how needy you are, the image of you grinding into his bare dick so eagerly burned into his mind. Something he hopes he’ll never forget, needing to remember just how perfect you looked while riding him.
He’s not going to give you the chance to slip away from him, already planning your whole future in his mind while he’s fucking into you balls deep. You’ll have a spring wedding and he’ll tear up at how beautiful you look and then he’ll fuck you until you’re cock drunk that night. He’ll fuck you in your wedding dress and you might whinge about him ruining it but then he’ll drag his thick cock through your folds and you’ll forget to be mad at him.
“I’m gonna– hnn– ‘Toru– I’m gonna cum again,” your legs are shaking beside him as you get closer and closer.
The use of the nickname on him as his eyes flashing with a hunger he hadn’t shown yet, if his restraint could snap twice it just did, “Good– hah– fuck– cum around me, I wanna feel how you try to milk my cock.”
His tip kisses your womb again and you’re cumming hard, shaking as your pussy squirts around him. Head spinning as you get drunk on the pleasure running through you, cunt squeezing and hugging onto Gojo tight. Whimpering and mewling through your orgasm, never having cum like that in your life.
“Fuck– oh fuck– hah– oh, sweetie,” Gojo whines through his delirious giggles, “look at the mess you’ve made.”
Your eyes look down and see the way you’ve coated not just his dick but lower half, even his abs, in your squirt. Having cum so hard that you didn’t even register that you’d done that. “Sorry– hng– I’ve never– hah– never.”
“Don’t you fucking dare apologise,” his eyes are wild and his smile is damn near unhinged, “you’re perfect, felt so fucking good– oh my god.”
He cums from the worried look on your face, your eyes wet and apologetic and so cutely pathetic that he’s finishing over it. Fucking his load into you over and over, not willing to stop thrusting yet. Not wanting to end this moment yet, he could fuck you forever and his life would be fulfilled.
“You’ll come back to mine, right?” he pleads, “or let me come back to yours– fuck– I’ll go wherever you want as long as you’re there.”
Still fucking into you, your pussy a sloppy mess of his cum and your slick. His seed leaking out around his cock and dribbling down onto the seats. He’s overstimulating the both of you at this point, thrusts having slowed but still moving.
Reaching out for him, you pull his face down to yours and kiss him sweetly. He whimpers into your mouth and turns the kiss dirty, licking at you needily. Lips off yours and kissing your cheeks, “You didn’t answer,” he pouts at you.
You look at him fondly, “Sure, I’ll come back to yours.”
Do you think satoru moans and whimpers like a pathetic whore he is whenever (most likely everytime) he's JUST kissing the reader??? 🤔🤔 Like he's full on moaning like a pornstar and he doesn't even realise it 😄
oh baby yes, that man is vocal as FUCK — zero shame, would be moaning and gasping your name into your mouth, whorish moans etc. ur neighbours are welllllll acquainted with the way his voice breaks as he whines your name as he cums, the gasps and whimpers and pornstar moans that have them avoiding eye contact with him in the elevator, ears red, and he just grins like nothing happened and they didn’t hear him beg and moan like a bitch last night
keeping satoru gojo on a leash (literally this time) (part two)
part one
the first time satoru brought it up, it was a passing thought, a lazy suggestion when he’d been scrolling on his phone next to you in bed, had paused on a video of a guy with a leather collar wrapped around his throat and tilted his screen to you with a lazy, “bet i’d look good in that.” you had hummed, and bed scrolled on. but the thought had been planted. and he couldn’t escape it.
he started to daydream about it—in the shower, at gym, making lunch. thinking about having a pretty strap of leather around his throat, your fingers strapping it around his throat. he wondered how it would feel—not too tight, but tight enough to remind him it was there. a clear mark of ownership. belonging to you. shoko and suguru already liked to joke how you had him on a leash, he didn’t need them to know he was starting to want that literally. so satoru shoved the thought away.
but the more time went on, the more satoru wanted it more. it was stupid. him? the loud mouth who never minced his words, the pretty boy who talked too much and did whatever he wanted—in a collar? it was stupid, laughable. but like most things when it came to you, things didn’t seem so silly when he thought about your fingers pressing the leather around his throat, your fingers brushing over the pretty leather, stroking his throat, calling him your pet, cooing at him that he’s such a pretty little thing like this—
he had to shut down that line of thinking fast, cock jerking in his shorts where he’s daydreaming in between sets at the gym, adjusting himself discreetly, praying they think the flush crawling down his throat is due to exertion and not filthy, dirty thoughts of being your pet.
but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. at the supermarket, at the gym, even when he was watching tv with you on the sofa, your fingers absently stroking his nape, thumb occasionally rubbing over the side of his throat and he has to bite down on his tongue to not whimper and beg for you to put leather there instead.
so he acts. approaches you after extensively searching into it, browsing through fifteen different sites, until he found one he liked, with fancy, genuine leather the expensive kind with a silver S punched into the middle because if he was going to collared then it would have to be with something pretty.
he’d shown it to you, and you’d arched a brow, eyes flicking and scrolling with lazy consideration.
“just ‘cause like—i dunno… i saw it and thought it might be funny or like—something you could, y’know… put on me,” he rambled, trying to act casual and failing so spectacularly it was embarrassing. if you laughed at him he’d have to pretend he was just joking and then promptly go die in a hole.
“you want a collar?” you ask, lazy, blunt and so easy, he hates and loves it in equal measure.
“i mean—like—“ satoru flounders and you look up at him from under your lashes and your eyes pin him in place, he swallows, shuts his mouth. “yeah,” he says weakly finally. “yeah i—i want a collar.”
you hum, eyes dragging back to the screen. he waits, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“alright,” you said simply, scrolling back to the checkout screen like he’d just asked for a bag of chips instead of a kink that had been eating him alive.
he blinks. his eyes go wide. “alright?” he echoes. and you hum, already putting in your credit card details.
“yeah. you want a collar so we’ll get one. it’ll look pretty on you,” you say as you lazily choose shipping dates and satoru blinks, cheeks go pink at that. you’re so fucking unbelievable. and he’s so stupid for thinking you’d make fun of him. this was you. you’ve probably been waiting to put him in a collar.
“done. it’s coming tuesday,” you say simply as you give him back his phone with the confirmation page and he stares at it.
he nearly malfunctioned on the spot. cheeks flushed, pulse pounding, staring dumbly at the confirmation page until you kissed his cheek and walked away like you hadn’t just rearranged his entire brain chemistry.
so that was easy.
and then tuesday came and satoru was impatient, kept reloading the update page of the site, kept complaining it was taking too long as you rolled your eyes and just petted his hair as he flopped on the sofa with a huff. and then when the doorbell rang he jumped up so fast it made you snort as he dashed for the door. and when he came back he was grinning, a small cardboard box in his hands.
he sat with you, eagerly opening it up. inside sat a small box, black, expensive with fancy lettering. you watched as satoru opened it up and there sat in black velvet was his collar—a strip of black leather, with a silver S stamped in the middle. satoru’s throat went dry at the sight, heat shooting straight to his cock at the sight. it was simple but graceful, made of real leather, black and inky, a small metal buckle to slip the end through to secure it in place.
"pretty, huh?" you'd mused and satoru just swallowed, nodding dumbly.
"real pretty," satoru croaked out somehow.
"wanna try it on?" you asked easily, thumb stroking over the silver S, the black band in your delicate fingers. that was going to be around his throat. satoru’s cock throbbed at the idea.
"yeah," he breathed out quickly, entirely too eager and desperate. "put it on me.”
he couldn't help but fist his fingers into the sofa, sitting beside you as you took the collar out.
"ready?" you asked, voice low, like you could sense the way his stomach was tangling into knots. and satoru swallowd, nodding quick because yes, he was so fucking ready.
"yeah, yeah. i’m ready, put it on," satoru tried for a grin, nerves tangling in his gut.
and when you reached over and slipped the black leather around his throat, slipping the end into the buckle to tighten it, his breath caught, lashes fluttering.
"alright?" you asked, low and knowing, and satoru’s breaths were uneven and heavy.
"tighter," satoru breathed, voice breathy, leaning into your touch like he was desperate for it. "make it tighter."
your brows arched, but you tightened it another notch, and satoru exhaled a shaky, broken little sound—like the world had finally clicked into place. like this was what he’d been waiting for all his life, to be collared by you, leather around his throat, waiting to be reduced to this—your pet, your pretty boy, your obedient little puppy. the leather wrapped around his throat, not tight enough to hurt, just tight enough to remind him it was there, hugging his throat, kissing it.
"look at you," you murmured, voice low, and satoru’s eyes fluttered open, wondering what he must look like, hazy blue eyes and pliant just from a little leather snug around his throat. "so pretty in leather," you murmured and he whimpered then, leaning into your hand when your fingers brushed over his throat where the leather was kissing his skin.
your fingers slid under the collar then, tugged at it and he whimpered and went easily, looking up at you from under pale lashes, already panting.
“pretty thing,” you muttered, voice low, eyes heavy, knowing, lazily drinking in the way he’s a mess from being collared by you. “should make you wear this out in public” you mused lazily, thumb stroking over the pale column of his throat where his pulse is thumping wildly and he whimpered at the thought, the idea of going around with a collar, leather at his throat, that pretty silver S stamped in the middle, clearly marked as yours.
“please—“ satoru breathed out as he shifted closer to you, and you leaned back into the sofa as he crawled his way to you. the collar really did wonders to him—turned him into a needy, desperate mess in less than a minute. who knew how effective a little leather around his throat would be? “please—“ satoru breathed out, cock twitching in his sweats, pressing it to your thigh, biting his bottom lip, already hard just from being collared like this. “can i—y/n please can i—“ he choked out and you hummed, low and soft.
“you wanna grind, baby?” you asked, voice silky, cruel and satoru whimpered in response, nodding, flushed and chest heaving. you smiled, cruel and mean in ways that made him dizzy. “go on then. grind for me, baby.” and satoru—6 foot 3, all pretty boy charm and usually unfiltered sarcasm, leather strapped around his throat—grinded down desperately, and that first drag of his trapped cock against your thigh made him gasp.
“fuck—oh fuck—“ he gasped as he rolled his hips down, dragging his cock against you desperately, biting his bottom lip. you watched, licked your bottom lip at the sight of him—flushed, needy, in leather, desperately trying to rub and hump your thigh.
“needy boy,” you cooed. “look at you.” your fingers slipped over his jaw and satoru whimpered and nodded. he rocked harder,with desperate moans dragging out of him, the collar glinting against his throat as he grinded himself against you desperately, shamelessly.
“need it—fuck—need it so bad—“ he whined as he rocked down harder, cock hard, throbbing and when he dragged it just right, his brain lit up and his cock jerked in his sweats as his eyes rolled back and he came hard into his sweats. his fingers curled into the sofa, choking out a broken moan as he came, shallowing grinding down against your thigh as he did, shuddering and moaning shamelessly at the hot white heat and pleasure flooding his veins. when he finally slumped against you, panting and dazed, the collar snug around his throat, he'd never felt more whole.
ok time to be nicer to him now (writing this in lecture sawrry for the sloppiness)
If eating pussy was how he was destined to die, Satoru didn't think he minded. Not at all — because what else could compare to the priceless way your thighs clamped around his reddened cheeks and held him in place?
Satoru had tugged the blanket over himself, sealing himself in the darkness with nothing but the heat and scent of your pussy luring him in closer, and closer — aaall the way until his nose was pressed flush against your clit.
"This is what I need. Need to breathe you in properly."
He groaned, eyes rolling back into their sockets. You couldn't push Satoru back, hands fumbling under the duvet as he took in long, greedy inhales.
Your hips twitched under him, an embarrassed grimace crossing your face. "Satoru, you fucking freak." Your voice was nothing short of shrill as he kept huffing you in.
"Shhh, I'm trying to get high here."
The vibrations of his voice, lazy and drunk, vibrated you to the core. Then Satoru's tongue flicked out, lips beginning to part widely as he sealed your cunt in one big, open-mouthed kiss.
"You're so gross, mmh—" you choked out, back curving into an arch. Satoru's slurping was obnoxiously loud as you squirmed beneath him, head shaking from side to side as he ate you out with vigour.
But then suddenly, he stopped — tongue lapping up fat stripes from front to back in response to your words. You hadn't seen 'gross' yet.
Satoru's frenzied motions smeared your glossy slick across his chin, over his mouth as his tongue tried scooping out each and every drop of what your body could give him. Hell, Satoru even dug his tongue into your ass, just to see if you'd clench around him
You did, obviously.
"If you don't get your tongue out of there—"
"Yeah, yeah."
Satoru brought his face back up, deeply breathing for air whilst two thick thumbs spread you open. Then his mouth came down, sealing over your clit and suckling hard — his own hips clumsily fucking down onto the mattress.
"Ooohh, shit— think I'm gonna cum," you gritted out, voice almost inaudible under the wet schlicks of your cunt against Satoru's mouth. He doubled down on his efforts, grinding his nose against you until you finally fell apart.
Perhaps eating you out from under the blanket wasn't the best idea — with your pussy gushing out onto Satoru's face and the sheets under. The fabric grew dark, which was the least of your problems.
Because why was Satoru gulping?
You threw off the blankets, chest heaving for air as you took in the sight of the white-haired man diving up out of you. Satoru's hair was a mess, flushed face drenched, and dopey grin slick with your juices.
"Thought I'd get back at you," you gritted out, clear silicone head of your dildo popping its way into your cunt. Satoru grimaced — despite having popped a boner the second you pulled the toy out of your bedside table.
His eyes were already glazed over, honed in on the way your pussy lips fluttered apart to make way for the dildo. The bed sank under your knees, weakened at the way the smooth girth stuffed you to the brim.
But not as much as Satoru could.
You weren't going to let him know that, though — already sinking down to the base and experimentally rolling your hips. The toy wasn't as thick, or as long as your boyfriend was. It didn't twitch, nor did it cry when it came. "Ahhh, that's the stuff."
Satoru bristled, aroused but offended at the sight of you feeling good on anything other than him. "C'mon, I threw that fake pussy away. You don't need that-that thing."
"Yeah, but I was so hurt," you lied breathlessly, sitting back on your haunches as you began to fuck yourself thoroughly. "I mean, how do you think I felt seeing my boyfriend fuck a pussy that wasn't mine?"
A fucked-out smile crossed your lips, the thwack-thwack-thwacking of your ass slamming back down inaudible over the blood rushing to both of Satoru's heads.
Once he could see you weren't actually hurt, he cursed — grinding his palm down against his erection.
"You have some real nerve thinking you can get yourself off, y'know," you scoffed, eyes narrowing at the white-haired man. Satoru removed his hand immediately, looking like a kicked puppy.
"Sorry."
"Damn right, you are," you shuddered, planting your hands onto the mattress and doubling down on the pace of your riding. Satoru was profusely leaking in his boxers, a grimace crossing his face as he felt the fabric darken under his tip.
The bastard was enjoying being cucked by a dildo.
"Y-you like this, 'toru? You like seeing me get off on this fake cock?"
"Pfft— no. Fuck, I could do it better," Satoru gritted out, hands itching at his sides. He wanted to do anything but sit there. He wanted to pull the toy out of you, replace it with his own dick and feel your walls convulse around him.
But he couldn't — you've already deprived him of your pussy enough and he wasn't into any more punishments.
So Satoru sat there in front of you, watching with a hot face as your orgasm approached. You rubbed at your clit, two wet fingers circling around the throbbing nub with your pussy swallowing around the silicone under you.
"Mmhh, n-nearly there." Your free hand held it in place, the burn in your wrist feeling like nothing compared to the growing pleasure shooting up your body.
Embarrassingly enough, Satoru felt like he could cum on the spot. He could feel his cock ache, hips beginning to twitch upwards in time with yours.
He didn't mean to do that — it just sort of happened.
The friction of his tip rubbing against his underwear was too much for him to handle — his hand flying over his mouth as webs of warm cum flooded out of his cock, rendering the insides of his boxers sticky with his release. "Oooh, shit—"
"Oh, you always have to cum first, don't you?" You huffed out, a weak orgasm hitting you. It was less than satisfactory, the licks of arousal barely making its way up your body.
Satoru panted, knowing that he had fucked up yet again.
That look on your face that he was slowly getting accustomed to told him everything that he needed to know. That dildo wasn't going anywhere any time soon, and Satoru would have to wait a while longer before he could feel the warmth of your pussy wrap around his cock.
"I think we may need to try bondage next time. Y'know, just to keep you in place."
Gojo Satoru is so messy. He loves burying his face between your thighs, nose pressed in your patch of hair, sniffing your unwashed pussy and licking away at the sweet, yet tangy nectar dripping from your puffy folds
Thinking about Satoru coming up to you at a party, wrapping an arm around your waist and grinding his erection into your ass. Your eyes widen and you gasp, glaring up at him.
He leans down, ghosting over your ear “Mmm, Baby.” He whines, girating his hips just slightly.
You roll your eyes and sigh, saying goodbye to your friends as they giggle. They all know exactly where you’re going and that you are completely whipped for your husband.
youre sat behind him on his stupid digimon sheets, your arms wrapping around his small waist. satoru's leaning back onto you, hands hooked under your spread knees he's between, squeezing your leg occasionally as he pants and whimpers as you angrily fist his cock.
"fffuck- fuck, oh please baby.." he drags out a curse, yelping out desperately when your hand unwraps from his angry, throbbing cock so abruptly. his tip has gone red from your relentless rubbing, balls tight and ready to burst.
you laugh mockingly at his crying, your fist hitting right onto his lower abdomen, ripping out a gasp and a high pitched moan from him, his cock throbs at the delicious pain blooming through his milky pale skin, turning red.
"fuck toru, yr'such a slut." you mock him and he whimpers, bucking his hips into the air. he sniffles, shivering at the mean sting of your nails dragging down to the base of his cock from his belly.
"pleasepleaseplease baby, please let me cum," satoru begs, mind hazed with desperation, his big ol glasses fogging up and slipping down his flushed face, not bothered enough to fix them. all hes thinking about is cumming.
you tap a teasing finger on his weeping tip, making him let out a short whine, breath heaving slightly as you rub his precum all over his tip.
"please let me cum—" he sobs out, slouching back against you. his back arches when you wrap your palm around his hypersensitive tip, squeezing repeatedly and ripping out a broken yelp from sensitive little toru. wet squelches emit from his wet cock as you start to jerk it quickly.
satorus moans get high, sobs leaving his heaving body as he gets closer to that edge, a sliver of hope coursing through him when you dont immediately pull away when he cries out, "fuckfuckfuck-uuhhn im gonna cumm!".
you know him so so well, your hand leaving his aching, crying cock at just the perfect time, making satoru genuinely cry out, your fist meeting his abdomen once again. satorus whole body flinches, a whine leaving him at the pain.
he cranes his neck to face you, buring his soaked face into the curve of your shoulder, thick glasses bumping awkwardly, his hot tears dripping onto your skin, making you laugh cruelly. his cock throbs pathetically at the sound.
"please! please let me cum—ohmygod-i need to cum please!" he sobs against you, all shame thrown out the window, successfully ruining your little nerd.
"you wanna cum?" you call out to him, your voice directly into his ear, making him whimper quietly as his cock jerks. "ye-yesyes please," he begs.
he lets out a cry as your hand connects to the base of his dick, hips bucking. you slooowly work your way up to his tip, a long, low whimper escaping satoru.
you start to jerk him off at a slow pace, your hands so gentle against his crazy sensitive cock, such a drastic difference from your rough squeezing before. the contrast of your touches only eggs him on further.
"yesyesyes-please i-im gonna cum—fuck im gonna cum! please!" satoru cries out, tears falling behind his glasses at the increasing pleasure as his hips buck into your gentle movements.
his cock throbs furiously in your palm, thick cum spurting out his red cock in large amounts, dripping down your fingers and down to his thighs, loud whines and little wails coming from his writhing body as he finally, finally gets to cum all over your hand.
"ohmyfuckinggod." satoru manages to whisper out, his eyes fluttering under his slipping lenses. you can't help but giggle at his weakening posture against you.
he pants against you, his cock softening in your grip as you slowly retreat your hand, rubbing his lean stomach comfortably.
"tired?" you question him with a smile, and he huffs. "exhausted. can we sleep?" he mumbles, drained from his intense orgasm.
"sleep baby." you whisper to him, and he obeys immediately.
satoru gojo has always been loud—too loud, too bright, too careless with the way he struts through the world like rules are decorations and consequences exist for other people. a party boy, a flirt, a walking contradiction with a smirk sharp enough to cut and a swagger built on the knowledge that everyone would bend to his every whim.
everybody except you.
because he learned quickly that you didn’t give a damn about his fuckboy reputation, his pretty face, or his charm. you could fold him with a single look, pin him right where you wanted him without lifting a finger.
and satoru loves you for it.
he loves how strict you are. loves the way your voice sharpens when he gets particularly abrasive and rude with someone, the way your gaze narrows in warning, the way his whole body reacts instantly—heat curling low, pulse jumping in his throat, breath catching like he’d been hooked. you didn’t need to yell, just one quiet, low “satoru.” and he was standing straighter, shutting up, obeying.
he was supposed to be unbreakable. untamable. but you? you dragged your fingers along the silver chain around his neck and it was like an electric current shot straight through him. when you tugged lazily on it as you passed by him? he’d just trail after you like a leashed puppy eager to follow its master.
shoko and suguru teased him about it constantly. “damn, she’s got him trained,” shoko snorted once, watching you tug him closer by a finger hooked in the chain. “you’d think she was holding the other end of a leash,” suguru just smirked. satoru ignored them, wide grin splitting his face as you dragged him away from the party and to the bathroom where he was no doubt about to put his pretty mouth to use.
he never denied it, never even gave in to the ribbing and teasing, if anything, he looked proud of it—of being on your leash. like he’d been waiting all his life for someone to tell him to shut the fuck up and kitten. and that person happened to be you—like you figured him out like a puzzle, like you knew all he really needed to go from loud party boy with a shit eating grin to an obedient puppy following your every word was just a sharp tug to his chain and a look. and he’d listen. every goddamn time. because he wanted that. wanted you in control. wanted the world to see who he belonged to, who exactly had tamed the loud, untamable fuckboy.
and when it was just the two of you—when you had him stretched out beneath you, hands gripping your hips like he’d fall apart without holding on—he needed it even more. you like to ride him slow, tormentingly slow, your nails dragging up his chest, your gaze heavy and unimpressed when he bucks too hard. the chain rattling softly as he pants, eyes shining, cheeks flushed that ridiculous rosy pink you could never get enough of.
“who’s are you, ’toru?” you’ll breathe, and his breath will catch, his brain will go to mush.
“yours—” he’ll moan, already unraveling, already desperate, already in the palm of your hand. “yours—fuck—yours— all yours—“ and god, you love the way he says it. obedient and desperate, nothing like the loud party boy facade he likes to put, just a pretty little mess who’s obsessed with you. “good boy,” you’ll coo soft into his ear and he’ll moan, throat arching like those two simple words were enough to make him cum on the spot.
and when girls try move to him, drawn in by his pretty face and handsome grins, you don’t say anything, don’t need to. just walk over and grab his jaw whilst he’s mid sentence and kiss him filthy and wicked and hot. and he’ll moan into it, completely forgetting about his trail of thought, the sentence half formed on his tongue, ignore it all in favour of your lips on his, your mouth moving over his. and as you lick into his mouth and hold his face, he’ll moan, hands sliding over your thighs, forgetting the girls entirely who’re watching, seeing the way he chases your mouth, the way his lashes flutter as you tug at his hair, the way he pants into your mouth. and when you pull back he’ll be dazed, blinking and you’ll just smile. “just in case anybody forgot who’s you are.” and he’ll nod along dumbly.
you palm his head and he comes running in place. it was easy. everybody saw it. the way your legs draped over his lap in shoko’s apartment, laughter threading through the haze of weed, your fingers sliding and stroking satoru’s soft messy white hair. and he’ll let you, hand on your thigh, laughing along to shoko’s dry commentary. and when your nails scratch gently, his head will roll back on your shoulder, eyes half lidded, his last thought melting into nothing, just focused on the way you’re touching him. “wanna hookup in shoko’s bathroom?” he’ll breathe out, already half hard and you’ll snort. “now?” you’ll murmur, amused, fond almost at how easy he was, scratching behind his ear and he’ll bite down on his bottom lip, to keep a soft breathy moan from spilling out. “now,” he’ll breathe. and you’ll smile, sharp and get up and he’ll trail after you like a puppy as the others watch you leave.
and when your hand is around his cock, pressing him back against shoko’s sink, you’ll murmur in his ear, kissing his throat as he pants and moans softly. “you wanna cum?” and he’ll nod, lashes fluttering as you suck on his throat, voice breathy. “yeah—yeah fuck. wanna cum,” he’ll breathe out. “how do we ask?” you ask, low and lazy.
and satoru gojo, the boy who never says please or thank you, who treats manners as optional, who couldn’t give less of a fuck about being polite or respectful and uses cuss words in every sentence that made old ladies give him dirty looks in public when he laughed too loudly or made dirty, crude jokes—“please—“satoru will moan shamelessly. “please let me cum—fuck oh—please—“ and you’ll smile, drag your teeth down his throat that he bares to you willingly. “go on. cum.” and his cock will jerk in your fist and his eyes will roll back as he cums, white messy spurts dribbling down your knuckles, a low ragged, grateful moan pulled from his parted lips, head tipping back.
because oh could he beg. it was pathetic. the way he’d drop like stone onto his knees for you, begging please please let him eat you out, please can he have a taste of your pussy and you’ll smile—the mean one, the one that always makes him dizzy, like you’re enjoying it, humiliating him, making him beg for your pussy.
“you want it that bad?” you’ll coo, soft and mean and he’ll nod, already half hard from just your denial, from the way you play with him.
“please,” he’ll whimper. “want it. want your pussy.” and d when you finally uncross your legs and spread them and arch an expectant brow down at him, he’ll crumble. “go on. eat like a good boy.”
and he’ll moan gratefully and dive in, lap at your cunt sloppy and needy, moan at the taste on his tongue, breathe you in like he’s trying to fill his lungs with you. mouthing at you, licking at you, watching you from under his lashes because he wants to do good, wants to make you cum hard on his tongue and maybe even squirt. so he’ll focus on you, on this entirely—licking and sucking at your clit, burying his tongue deep inside you until your fingers pull at his hair in a familiar rhythm that made his eyes roll back and a moan tumble out from his lips. like this was all he was good for—like this was all he wanted to be good for. and when you did cum, he’d take it like he was grateful, moan into your pussy as it pulsed and spasmed and drenched his mouth and jaw, eyes fluttering shut like this was his personal form of prayer—most men preferred church on sundays, satoru preferred taking eucharist between your thighs.
he’d been wild before you, running wild from girl to girl, party to party, impossible to pin down or lock into a relationship. now? one sharp look from you had him straightening up mid sentence. one curl of your finger had him following like a shadow. one tug on his chain had him melting—soft, obedient, yours.
and the best part? he loves every second of it. because the boy everyone else thought couldn’t be tamed was happiest right there—under you, undone for you, begging for you. on your leash, and blissfully, stupidly proud of the leather wrapped around his throat.
