gn!reader - 18+ MDNI (jerk! him! off!)
you love having him like this - milky thighs spread, bare chest glistening under a thin layer of sweat. glossy lips part as your beloved satoru takes in uneven breaths, trying to gain some level of composure.
(not that he needs to, of course.)
because tonight, you get to take your time with him.
tonight, after a lifetime of being strong, he gets to let himself be weak. vulnerable. soft. luxuries the world’s greatest sorcerer are rarely afforded.
“just let go for me, baby,” you coo as you coax another orgasm from him, your palm now sticky with his release. he can’t even get out his usual snappy response, mind still reeling from the way your fingers squeeze around the base of his cock, every nerve in his body focused only on feeling your skin along his.
and he’s especially focused when you pick up your pace shortly after, the sound of your hand pumping his length threatening to overpower his quiet gasps.
“can you cum for me again, ‘toru?”
it’s a simple task - normally, his days are full of complex and often conflicting responsibilities, having to decide between infinite choices that all seem to lead to imperfect outcomes. but this, this he can do. there’s no thinking involved, no decisions to make, just you. and he’d do anything for you.
white hair dances over his eyes as he nods, giving you his best attempt at a smile. he’s accustomed to pushing himself, his body, to its limits, but something about the way you’ve been using him today has him exhausted. his muscles ache, straining as his back arches off the bed. he can barely move his hips enough to fuck himself into your waiting hand.
“there you go, good job, love,” you hum, and everything burns hot, the tips of his ears red and blush creeping down his neck until his entire body is flushed with the way his heart swells. “just lay back and let me take care of you, okay?”
a gentle palm rests along his hip, cool to the touch. he stills. but your hand never does.
there’s that heat in his core that’s getting brighter and brighter with each stroke. he wants to call it love. that’s the only thing that could give off this much light, he thinks, so bright it’s almost blinding. his vision goes white.
he can’t even make out your words, but he thinks they’re some combination of “i love you.” his entire body shakes, sweet whimpers tumbling from his lips as he comes undone.
then, he’s giggling as you press kisses across his skin - over his thighs, up his tummy (especially that one spot by his waist where he’s ticklish), up his neck, his cheeks, his forehead, his eyelashes. he’s still trembling, but he doesn’t feel the need to do anything about it - he’s not forcing himself to get back up after a blow, he’s not brushing rubble from his clothes. instead, he’s pulling you in, the softest thing in his whole world.
because tonight, he’s not ‘the strongest,’ he’s not the world’s greatest sorcerer or the fate of jujutsu society.
tonight, he’s just your satoru.
a/n: quinn tries to write smut after months of only fluff/angst challenge (warning: impossible)
