gojo wakes up with your hand already inside his boxers, your fingers curled lazily around his half-hard cock, stroking him with that slow, sleepy rhythm you know drives him insane before he’s even opened his eyes.
he groans, low and guttural, his hips twitching forward into your palm despite the way his voice drips with exaggerated annoyance. “nngh… seriously?” he mutters, voice rough from sleep, one eye cracking open just enough to glare at you through the messy white strands falling over his face. “it’s… what time is it? too early. you’re doing that thing again.”
you don’t stop. your thumb drags across his tip, spreading the sticky warmth already beading there, and his breath hitches despite his best efforts to look put out. gojo satoru, the strongest, reduced to a mess of slow-burning want before the sun has even fully risen, and you haven’t even said a word yet.
“you’re not gonna move, are you,” he says. it’s not a question. he knows you. knows that when you wake up like this—all heavy-lidded and needy, pressed against his side with your thigh hooked over his hip—you have exactly one thing on your mind, and absolutely zero intention of doing anything about it besides using him.
you hum, soft and affirmative, and your grip tightens just slightly, a silent you know what i want that makes him sigh through his nose.
“unbelievable,” he breathes, but he’s already shifting, already rolling toward you, because gojo has never been able to say no to you. not really. not when you look at him like that, all sleepy and demanding, your lips still puffy from sleep and your hair a mess against the pillow. “you’re gonna make me do everything. like always.”
you don’t deny it. you just pull your hand out of his boxers—slowly, deliberately, dragging your fingertips along his length one last time—and push at his shoulder until he’s on his back. then you’re climbing over him, straddling his hips, and he lets you, because what else is he supposed to do? throw you off? pleaseeee.
his hands find your waist on instinct, thumbs pressing into the soft skin above your hip bones, and he feels the damp heat of you through the thin fabric of your underwear as you settle against him. his cock twitches where it’s trapped between you, and he groans again, tipping his head back into the pillow.
“you’re not even gonna take these off yourself?” he asks, tugging at the waistband of your underwear, and you shake your head, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw.
“you do it,” you murmur against his skin, and he laughs—a breathless, disbelieving sound.
“of course. of course i do it.” but his hands are already pushing the fabric down your thighs, already guiding you to lift your hips so he can pull them off and toss them somewhere on the floor. he doesn’t bother taking off his own boxers, just hooks his thumb in the elastic and shoves them down just enough to free himself, his cock curving up against his stomach, flushed and heavy and already leaking at the tip.
you reach down to guide him, but he catches your wrist, lacing his fingers through yours and pressing your hand into the pillow beside your head instead. “no. you wanted me to do it, so i’m doing it. just sit there and look pretty.”
you pout at him, but it’s halfhearted, your eyes already glazing over as he shifts beneath you, one hand leaving your waist to wrap around his own cock, slicking the head through your folds. you’re already wet—embarrassingly wet, a testament to how long you’d been touching him before he even woke up—and he groans at the feel of it, at the way your body welcomes him without any resistance.
“fuck,” he breathes, and then he’s pushing inside, slow, so slow, because even when he’s complaining, even when he’s playing the part of the put-upon boyfriend, gojo can’t bring himself to rush this. not with you. not when you make that sound—that soft, broken little “ah” that falls from your lips as he sinks into you inch by inch, your walls fluttering around him like you’ve been waiting for this all night.
he bottoms out and stops, both of you just breathing, just feeling. his hands slide up your sides, over your ribs, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts, and he watches your face, the way your eyes slip half-closed, the way your lips part around a shaky exhale.
“you gonna do any work, or…?” he asks, and you shake your head again, a tiny, lazy movement that makes him laugh even as his hips twitch up into you.
“didn’t think so.” he starts to move, pulling out slow and pushing back in even slower, a rhythm that’s barely more than a deep, grinding rock. it’s not meant to be fast. it’s not meant to be rough. it’s morning sex when neither of you is fully awake, when the sun is just starting to filter through the curtains and the sheets are tangled around your ankles and every sensation is muffled and warm and thick like honey.
you moan, low and quiet, and your hands come up to brace against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his sleep shirt. he’s still wearing it—of course he is, because you didn’t even give him time to take it off before you were climbing on top of him—and you tug at the collar, pulling it down just enough to press your mouth to the hollow of his throat.
“mmnh… satoru,” you breathe against his skin, and his grip on your hips tightens, his rhythm stuttering for just a second before he finds it again.
“don’t ‘satoru’ me,” he says, but his voice is softer now, the annoyance bleeding away into something warmer, something almost tender. “you’re the one who woke me up. you’re the one who—” he cuts himself off with a groan as you clench around him, deliberately, just to hear that sound. “cheater.”
you smile against his neck, and he feels it, feels the curve of your lips, and he hates how much he loves this. loves the way you use him, loves the way you take and take and take and give nothing back except these soft, sleepy sounds and the occasional bite of your teeth against his collarbone.
the room is quiet except for the wet sound of him moving inside you, the rustle of sheets, your shared breath. it’s slow. so slow. each thrust takes forever, a lazy drag of his cock against your walls, and you can feel everything—every ridge, every pulse, the way he fills you so completely you can barely think.
“you could at least… nngh… you could at least move your hips or something,” he tries, his hands sliding around to cup your ass, guiding you in a small circle that makes you both gasp. “i’m doing all the work here.”
“you’re stronger,” you mumble, and it’s such a non-answer, such a blatant excuse, that he laughs again, breathless and a little wrecked.
“that’s—ah—that’s not how this works.” but he doesn’t stop. he doesn’t even slow down. if anything, his hips press up a little harder, a little deeper, and you feel the stretch of him, the sweet ache of being filled over and over again.
you kiss him then, not because you want to help, but because you want to shut him up. your mouths meet in a lazy slide, lips barely parting, tongues just brushing, and he tastes like sleep and something sweet, like the toothpaste you forgot to use last night. it’s messy and imperfect and so, so good.
he pulls back just enough to speak, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath warm on your lips. “you’re so lazy. you know that? you’re the laziest person i’ve ever—mmph—” you kiss him again, and he makes a sound like a whine, high in his throat, and you feel it in your chest.
the pace doesn’t change. it can’t change. you’re both too far gone into this slow, syrupy haze to do anything but rock together, hips meeting in a rhythm that’s more instinct than thought. gojo’s hands wander—up your back, down your thighs, everywhere and nowhere—and every few seconds he lets out a soft, punched-out noise that’s barely louder than a whisper.
“you’re not gonna cum,” he says eventually, and it’s not a question. “you’re just gonna—ah—you’re just gonna make me do this until one of us falls back asleep.”
you nod against his shoulder, and he groans, long and loud, his head falling back against the pillow.
“i hate you,” he says, but his hips keep moving, and his hands keep holding, and his cock keeps pressing into that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. “i hate you so much.”
you don’t believe him. you’ve never believed him. not when he says it like that, all soft and breathy, not when he keeps fucking you with that lazy, devastating precision, not when he turns his head to press a kiss to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.
“move,” he tries again, giving your hip a little push. “come on. just a little. just—nngh—just once.”
you shake your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck, and you feel his laugh more than you hear it, a shudder that runs through his whole body.
“you’re impossible,” he says, but he’s smiling. you can hear it in his voice. “absolutely impossible.”
the sun gets brighter. the birds outside get louder. neither of you speeds up. neither of you finishes. it’s just this—this endless, gentle push and pull, this lazy morning ritual that could last for hours or minutes, you can’t tell anymore. time doesn’t exist here, in the warm cocoon of tangled sheets and shared breath, of gojo’s hands on your body and his cock buried inside you and the soft, constant sound of his moans in your ear.
“i’m gonna stop,” he warns, but his hips rock up again, deeper, and you whimper, and he doesn’t stop. he never stops. “i mean it. i’m gonna… i’m gonna push you off and go back to sleep and you can just… handle it yourself.”
you lift your head just enough to look at him, and he’s beautiful like this—flushed and disheveled, his blindfold long since discarded on the nightstand, his eyes bright and blue and so, so soft. he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world, even as he complains, even as he pretends he wants to be anywhere else.
“please,” you say, and it’s the first real word you’ve spoken since you woke him up, and it breaks something in him, some last thread of resistance.
“fuck,” he whispers, and then he’s kissing you again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against yours, and his hips finally, finally pick up the pace—just a little, just enough to make you gasp into his mouth. “fuck, okay. okay. i’ll do it. i’ll do everything. just stay right there.”
you do. you stay right there, limp and pliant in his arms, while he fucks you slow and sweet and endless, while the morning stretches on around you, while his moans fill the room like a prayer.
it’s lazy. it’s perfect. it’s exactly what you wanted.
and when he finally stops, minutes or hours later, both of you still trembling and neither of you any closer to the edge, he pulls out slowly and wraps himself around you and mumbles “next time, you’re doing it” into your hair.
saturday nights in with your best friend satoru gojo are usually filled with watching star wars, playing roblox tycoons until you rage quit, & fighting back in asking to see his dick.
“excuse me?” his eyes widened, white lashes reaching up to his brows.
“you don’t have to, obviously. i was just wondering..” you said quietly, baiting him. which seemed to work because right after, a slight smirk was itching to be shown on his lips. “you curious or something?”
you hummed, leaning your head against the sofa. “yeah.” he was amused to say the least. you were usually shy despite being best friends, you’d never ever ask something like this to him. or so he thought. “well, it’s big enough. something that wont fit in you.”
his words made your stomach warm, forcing your legs to cross to prevent the potential sight of a wet spot forming in your sleeping shorts. “i think i can take it.”
“oh baby,” he pinched your cheek, playing into whatever this was. satoru was trying his best to hide his sudden excitement. it’s not every day he finally gets a chance to become more than just friends with you. rumors always spread around that the two of you were secretly dating but you’d always shut them down, getting upset that boys & girls (blur ref) could no longer be besties without being accused of liking each other. which was hypocritical on both your ends knowing your feelings for him and his for you were beyond just wanting to stay platonic.
“you want to find out?”
“can i?”
for a second, satoru freezes — breath hitching and heart beating a thousand miles an hour. then, he lets out a laugh, throwing his head back while hugging his stomach. “oh you’re for real.”
his reaction made yourself get embarrassed, making him straighten his position. “no no m’not making fun of you. i’m just surprised cuz, well, i’ve been dreaming of this for the past five years.”
“really?” you bit the inside of your cheek, avoiding eye contact. satoru nodded, leaning forward to force your eyes on his. “yeah.”
his eyes dropped down to your lap, thinking. “i’ve gotta prep you up first. i’m not lying when i say i don’t think it’s gonna fit in you.”
you nodded, already hooking your fingers under the waistband of your shorts. his hands stopped you shortly after, offering to undress you himself. you thought he’d be gentle, but it’s satoru gojo of course, he’s going to be rough.
“sato!” you squeaked when he pulled down your shorts, lifting your legs up to fully take them off. his pupils were blown wide when your cunt was out in the open, glistening with arousal under the lamp set next to you. “you asked,” he threw the clothing onto the floor. “don’t start crying now.”
his hands were on you again, separating your legs apart. he positioned himself to be face to face with your pussy, playfully blowing air on it just to watch you squirm.
“i thought you were gonna prep me..”
“well im fucking hungry.” he dragged a single finger in between your folds, collecting your wetness onto it. satoru brought it up to his lips, licking it clean. “you been eating pineapple?”
you couldn’t help but chuckle. “maybe.”
“figured. you taste better than i ever imagined.” he dips down to place a kiss onto your entrance, taking in a deep breath. your moans quickly filled the living room deliberately, trying your best to stay quiet. but that quickly ended when his tongue finally licked stripes on you. they were slow at first, fully savoring you. it traveled all the way up to your clit, sucking on it gently. your body arched, legs placing themselves on his back.
“you’re going too fast!” you yelled when he bit down. “you say that but your body is telling me something else.” he pulled back, spitting directly onto you.
“have you ever daydreamed about this? or was that just me.”
you nodded, observing the way your juices spilled down his chin. “why do you think i asked in the first place?”
he flashed all 32. “dirty girl.” with that, he returned back to his ‘meal.’ “you taste so good, could eat you out for hours.” he moaned. “you’re sweeter than konpeito.” his tongue didn’t stop lapping even when he inserted two fingers into you.
your fingers tangled themselves through his hair, not wanting this to stop. he let you, loving the way you had gotten confident. his dick hardened even more as you guided him to where you wanted him.
“fuck, are you close? you got tighter.” his fingers quickened up the pace, curling in deep.
“i t-think!” you stuttered, eyes fighting to stay open. his free hand snuck up under your shirt, squeezing at your breast. “go ahead.” he mumbled, opening his mouth wide to happily swallow your release.
with a gasp, you finished right on his tongue. your legs shook violently as he pulled away — not without a final kiss first. “good job baby. you okay?”
“please..” you whispered, not knowing how much longer you could go without having him inside you.
satoru grinned, sitting on his knees to take out his cock. “still think we should do more prepping.”
“i don’t care!”
“damn girl, how cock hungry are you.”
“very.”
he was already unzipping his pants as you said that, bringing you closer to his by your waist. he was nine inches at best, not surprising you one bit. you could feel yourself drooling at the way it twitched. “promise me something.” his voice dropped down to a soft whisper. “this won’t just be a one time thing. i mean it when i say i think about daily. i fucking love you. always have.”
for such a heated moment, your heart warmed. “i love you too sato.”
with that being said and a kiss being exchanged, satoru slammed half his length into you. a scream erupted from your throat, being silenced by the palm of his hand. “shit. quiet sweets.”
he wasn’t holding back, pounding into you at a harsh pace, pushing in inch by inch with every thrust.
“mmm you were made for this, made for me.” he removed his hand from your mouth, replacing it with lips instead. the kiss was so tender, saying more than words could. his hips rollled into you in steady thrusts, taking in the way your moans spilled into his mouth.
just as you thought he was going to stop, he pushed all the way in, creating a prominent belly bulge in you.
“oh my fuck.” he pressed down your stomach, feeling himself from the outside. “yeah, you were made for me.
im extremely proud of this fic ! I feel like my smut has improved sm
other people never get it right, in his opinion. there’s always a vowel that’s too drawn out, or a consonant that’s pronounced too sharply. he only ever smiles and nods when people say his name like that — it’s fine, sure. but it’s not right.
it’s become something very particular for him.
it’s not sah-toe-roo.
he’s also heard sahh-to-roo.
and some people will extend those vowels past their welcome.
but you? it glides off your tongue like honey.
sa-to-ru.
he likes the way it gets all sharp on your lips when you’re mad at him. satoru would never admit it to you, but sometimes he’ll piss you off on purpose whenever he’s in the mood to hear how you sharpen the consonants like knives when you're telling him off.
“what?” the sorcerer sits back in your office chair, the faintest traces of a completely intentional grin on his face.
he’d come in early for once in his life for this exact purpose; satoru knew you always came in devastatingly punctual, so he’d make sure to greet you the best way he knew how to make your morning: by sitting in your office and kicking his feet up on your paperwork.
you loved things clean. it’s cute. he wants you fucking messy, though!
and you’re seething so adorably, with your face all scrunched up and your shiny eyes narrowed. “does this look like your office, gojo?”
nope. not what he wants to hear.
satoru sits up abruptly, making a show out of glancing around the room, before letting out an exhale of a laugh. “you know, all the offices look suspiciously similar. might wanna bring it up with the higher-ups.”
“get out.”
“did you get enough sleep last night?” he tilts his head, feigning concern. “you’re being awfully rude about this.”
the way you narrow your eyes makes satoru wish he could see them glitter with crystallized tears, with his weight on top of you as he slides his tongue between your thighs—
you suck in a breath past pretty lips. “i’m not in the mood. yaga has me on the clock. please just give me this, gojo.”
please, you say, and it makes him smile smugly. satoru loves hearing it (although he’d love hearing it beneath the dark of a particularly low-lit bedroom), but he needs more. needs your voice to wrap around his name like you own it.
“plead nicer. unfortunately for you, i’m in the mood.”
“fuck, no.”
he leans further back into your chair. “didn’t hear you. sorry?”
“satoru.”
there it is. sa-to-ru; just the way he likes.
on other days, even when you’re rendered all sheepish and embarrassed at one of his jokes, satoru just can’t get enough of the way you say his name.
this time, your tone dulls around the edges, always muttered under your breath in front of important people when he’s threatened to embarrass you with something he’s said — it’s soft and small and stern all at the same time, dancing through the air like warm fucking breeze in the winter. he just wishes you wouldn’t be so quiet about it; if the sorcerer had a choice, he’d have your voice on repeat.
he already does, in a way.
it’s why satoru’s taken to teasing you specifically whenever you have faculty meetings in front of the higher-ups, or whenever you’re particularly engrossed in a lesson with your students, just to see you when you’re caught off your game and a tiny bit upset.
satoru loves you when you’re pouting, loves when your lips press flat into a thin line or when the inside of your cheek catches between your teeth, like you’ve got a retort on the tip of your sweet tongue but won’t let it slip for your own sake. so fucking considerate all the time.
you’re unbelievably gorgeous when you’re so composed.
and you let that sweet little breath of his name slip from your mouth when he’d push you a little too far during your class with your first years on reverse cursed technique. your eyes fixate on the ground, lips downturned, as satoru’d just gotten all of your students to laugh at a little jab towards your explaining methods.
“satoru.” you chastised in a small mumble, “let’s talk after my class, please.”
sa-to-ru.
god, that little whisper will be in his dreams tonight.
he’ll hear it over and over again and wish you’d mumbled it right against his earlobe, because no one else ever deserved to hear your voice like that.
“that’s awfully secretive, sensei. what’s so important that our beloved students can’t listen in on it, hm?” he knows what you’re getting at, of course.
but truthfully, he just wants to see your face contort with that fiery little expression, the same one he wanted to mouth at every inch of until nothing was left but pure bliss.
and satoru’s not shy about the way his heartbeat picks up when you nudge yourself a tiny bit closer, just to make sure he’s the only one who can hear what you say next. just so that your voice is only for him.
as it fucking should be.
the sorcerer’s hand just about brushes your hip, and save him if it isn’t taking everything in him to make sure he doesn’t grab you and pull you into his side like he has the right to do so.
“i don’t want my beloved students to hear me threaten to kill their sensei right here,” oh. satoru’s mind goes deliciously numb.
he grins, the edge of his mouth upturning slowly. “i’d love to see you try.”
you frown a tiny bit more.
“what exactly do you get out of pissing me off all the time?”
well.
⭑.ᐟ
satoru knows well enough that he adores your voice when it’s wrapped around his name.
but he’s decided that he loves it best when it’s completely breaking, paired with the gorgeously suffocating feeling of the skin of your thighs pressed into his fingertips and wrapped around his lips.
he loves when his name is exhaled, high-pitched and whiny like sugar, while his tongue paints a stripe across the wetness coating your lips, swirling circles around your pretty clit.
maybe he liked it the most because it’s how he’s always wanted to hear you say his name — it’s just that you’d always been too fucking stubborn, so insistent on hating him that you’d never stop to think how good you’d taste coating his mouth with your slick.
“sa-ah-toru,” you keen as satoru’s tongue dips past the edge of your soaked hole, curling inwards deliciously, moving slow like he’s savoring every fucking drop.
god, he’s hungry — but he’ll die if he goes too quick and can’t taste you ever again.
and if he grips the back of your thighs just a little bit harder when you sing his name like that? he simply can’t help it. he waited too long for this.
sa-to-ru.
you taste just as sweet as you sound.
you’d burst into his office this morning, bemoaning the fact that satoru hadn’t showed up to the previous briefing with principal yaga, of which ended with yaga blaming it on you. you’re bursting with rage, all up in his face, and it’s all a blur from there until your panties are hooked over your ankle, he’s getting on his knees in front of your office chair, wrapping your thighs over his shoulders, and lapping at your pretty cunt.
he hasn't gasped for air; he’s been too enveloped in your scent to care about breathing. he’ll devour you until no one else can. until all that pretty voice of yours knows how to sound out is sa-to-ru.
satoru narrows his tongue, bullying the muscle deep and slow, down to where you couldn’t have thought possible to reach. his eyes are hazy, half-lidded as you tug at his winter locks, shoving him further into your weeping pussy.
“mmph— fuck,” you pant out, eyes screwed shut as he thrusts his tongue in and out of you at a torturous pace. “fuck— gojo, ‘re going too slow—”
“hmm?” he hums into your clit, sending shockwaves straight up from your core. the sorcerer’s gaze meets yours from under the glimpse of your tits beneath your unbuttoned polo.
he loves you composed, he really does — but you look perfect when you’re all messy, just for him.
his lips glisten with your wetness as he grins. “i'll go faster if you say my name properly, beautiful.”
“h—huh?” your words trail off into a candied whine as he pads his finger just against your entrance, smearing the wetness that covers your folds and popping it into his mouth.
you’re so sweet. fuck, why are you so sweet?
“say my name.” he repeats, his voice cheerful yet rough, the tiniest bit of grit around the edge. “remind me how much you love me, gorgeous.”
your eyes still manage to narrow, even as they glitter with needy frustration. “fuck you— mmh!”
satoru simply frowns against the inside of your thigh as he abruptly bullies the first inch of his finger past your entrance, hissing at how tightly your walls were clamping down on him. his mind goes blurry, swirling with thoughts of how delectable you’d look with your thighs around his hips, bullied open and clamping like a vice down on his cock—
he pulls his finger out with a shudder, cooing at the little pout that forms on your lips. “poor baby. if you can’t handle it, you know, we can stop here. if you want.”
“w— what?” you breathe out, eyes wide and glossy like the thought was insulting. “no, please — please, need you, satoru…”
sa-to-ru.
and you’ve drawn out that last syllable like you want him dead.
“again, sorry?”
“satoru!” you squeal impatiently, and he obliged, simply because he’d never say no to you when you sound like that.
the white-haired man groans, biting down on the inside of your thigh and relishing in the way it makes you whine, all high-pitched and finally sweet on him.
his fingers thrust roughly into your aching pussy, stretching you out and moulding you to shape around his skin. you’re dripping down his palm, and satoru’s mesmerized by the sheen of slick that coats his hand as he pounds his fingers in and out of you steadily.
“shit— so pretty here for me, huh?” satoru whispers reverently, as if speaking directly to your pussy and not to you. “just as sweet as that mouth of yours. just as tight too.”
your hands are making a home for themselves in his hair, hips chasing his thick fingers, grinding yourself further into them like he wasn’t deep enough already. your perfect fucking voice isn’t helping the sorcerer’s case either — he swears he loses every semblance of control he has, bit by bit, at each breath of his name leaving your lips, garbled and slurred and destroyed.
“s’toru, satoru,” your mouth drops open, eyes screwing shut as he curls his fingers right into that spongy spot, office chair creaking as your body slumps back into it. “it’s so— fuck, ‘ts so—”
he laughs breathlessly. “yes, gorgeous?”
“it’s so— oh!”
satoru cherishes everything you have to say, he swears he does.
but he also cherishes the way your lips look, all glossed with drool pooling at the corners, when he leans forward and circles his tongue over your clit in mean little motions, lapping at the sensitive skin in tandem with the rhythm of his fingers. you’re a whining, squirming mess — struggling to stay upright, thoroughly desecrated on the office chair you’d chewed him out just weeks ago for stealing.
satoru hisses as your fingertips tug at his locks, so fucking drunk on the taste of your soaked cunt amidst the lewd sound of his fingers slapping against your sex.
“listen to that,” he rasps out, pausing to let the squelch of your pussy speak for itself before laughing dazedly against your clit. “she’s screaming my name too, isn’t she? so fuckin’ good for me, aren’t you?”
your bleary gaze peeks down at him, eyes questioning amidst the pleasure. “s—satoru, you asshole, stop talking to my— mmh!”
before you can protest, his mouth is diving back in. soft lips latch around your clit, and satoru’s painfully hard at the sound of your voice cracking around the syllables of his name, your throat thick with pleasure at the overstimulation. he doesn’t let up; the white-haired man sucks harder at the sensitive bud, all while scissoring his fingers deep inside of you as if mapping you out.
for when his dick goes inside you, of course.
“it’s t—too much,” you complain in a mewl, eyes blurry with forming tears, “satoru, please, please, ‘m so—”
“fuck, take it, gorgeous,” satoru gasps out against your pussy, lips drenched in your taste. “keep talking to me — shit, you’re tight — let it all out for me, okay?”
satoru’s mind had blanked out a long time ago. between the way your lips form his name in one strung out moan, and the way you taste sweeter than any candy he could’ve ever asked for, he’s starting to wonder if he’d died and gone to heaven.
your voice tangles with the filthy squelches that resound through the cramped space of your office, and he swears nothing could ever be better than this.
except for the way you sound saying his name while you cum.
“i’m— i’m—” you gasp, and satoru takes that as a sign to clamp his lips around your clit and suck, curling his fingers up against your g-spot until — “satoru!”
he’s never heard anything so perfect before. his gaze flicks upwards as you orgasm, watching the way your face scrunches up as your cunt tightens unbearably around every inch of his fingers. satoru’s transfixed by your stupid voice, something out of a porno curated by an angel, and if he’s hoping he’s ruined you with his fingers alone, you’ve ruined him with just the sound of your voice breaking.
your breaths are heavy as you come down from the high; soft and warm, sound waves radiating off of you like sunlight. satoru presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh, and you finally peer down at him.
“still mad at me?” the sorcerer grins.
your eyes narrow as soon as you’re back to life. “yes. yaga chewed me out for something that wasn’t even my fault, satoru.”
sa-to-ru. the white-haired man pauses against your inner thigh, raising an eyebrow up at you with something hungry in his eyes. because as soon as you say his name, he decides he’s not fucking done with you yet.
“i’m sorry, gorgeous,” satoru mumbles, giving you a faux-apologetic glance before mischievously pressing a kiss to your clit, watching how your eyes widen. “i guess I’ll just keep going until you forgive me.”
“w—wait!”
satoru gojo really likes the way you say his name.
and he’ll keep making you say it until you know it too.
@ solrhaf
⁺ . ✦ tags ── ♡ ˚⊹︰mdni (18+), au- no powers, spit kink, spitting, switch!choso, dom choso at first then he's all soft at the end WOOO,making out, smoking, swapping smoke? idk how to describe it, groping, light smut i guess?
Choso was happy when he found out you smoked. He was even more thrilled when he found out you were like a fucking chimney, the only one who could match him that he’d ever met.
You both regularly had seshes together, taking turns rolling for each other or packing bowls. He thought it was cute you would use pink papers and add dried herbs, but he’d never admit it to you.
It was his turn, and you were sitting next to him as he was grinding the herb and placing it on the paper. He leaned over to kiss you, taking a momentary break to leave your mouth sloppy. “open, princess.” your lips were covered in sloppy lip gloss, and Choso admired it as he spit into your mouth. “lick it,” he says as he lifts the joint to your lips. you didn’t think it would be so hot to seal a joint this way, but your body said otherwise. “good girl,” he purrs as he pets your head. Your cheeks are flaring and your body feels like a furnace.
Choso isn’t usually dominant in general, but his aura changes sometimes, especially if he’s higher than an astronaut. It was a good change of pace, and you welcomed it.
“Ladies first,” he says as he places the joint between your lips, and sparking the lighter under it. You inhale the unbeatable taste, and you noticed Choso added some dried up flowers and herbs like you had shown him. You smiled at the thought knowing you influenced Choso.
You exhale, passing the joint to Choso and watch him take the longest and fattest hit he possibly could have. He looks like a dragon, grinning from ear to ear as he exhales out of his nose. You chuckle at the sight.
Choso’s eyes lock onto yours as he asks you a question. “Can I try something with you?” Although his question was more in the essence of a statement, he didn’t give you much of a chance to respond as he inhales a long puff from the joint and crashes his lips into yours in the next moment.
He kisses you for only a moment, as his hand locks around your neck and pulls you closer into him. He seals your lips together, exhaling and sharing the smoke. Your mouth fills with the smoke as you inhale. Choso pulls your lips apart, a string of saliva still connecting to you two.
You look over at him through the haze of the smoke, your cheeks flaring and heat pooling in your core. “My turn.” You say as he passes the joint to you.
You push Choso down on the couch beside you as you take a long drag of the joint. You’re straddling his lap as you lean down and kiss him. You bite his lip softly as you exhale smoke into his mouth. Your hands are snaking down his abdomen, and you lift his shirt up, pulling his sweats down. A blush is covering his face as you work your hands over his boxers.
also begging on my hands n knees for redacted 14dwy nsfw 🤤🤤
₊˚.༄ ask and you shall receive >:) i am absolutely FERAL for redacted. i love ren, but let's bffr, redacted is the one i'm after LMAO. i've been meaning to write some redacted x angel, so i hope you like it!! it was definitely fun to write <333 sorry it took so long! i got sick ><!
જ⁀➴ you can't get enough of [REDACTED]!
⁺ . ✦ tags ── ♡ ˚⊹︰mdni (18+), breeding kink, dom![REDACTED], mutual obsession, praise, degradation, talking you through it, biting, marking, jacob's ladder piercing, not beta read, kabedon (pushed against the wall trope)
⁺ . ✦ wc. 2,316
“S-slow down, Angel, ‘m not going anywhere…” he says, his tone laced with lust and desire.
Ever since your boyfriend stopped dying his hair pink, and started showing his true self, you literally cannot keep your hands off of him.
They’re all for it, of course, he’s not one to shy away when your desire and need are on full display for them. If anything, it only makes him hear weddings bells, knowing exactly how much you crave him with every action and every word you say. It’s like every moment is dedicated to him, like you’re almost as obsessed with they are as he is with you. Almost, of course. No one can match how much [REDACTED] yearns for you, not even yourself.
You’re pulling him by the buckle of his belt, pulling him closer to you, trying to feel his warmth. He gets the message, loud and clear, as they push you against the wall, one hand above your head, and the other gripping your chin, angling your face towards theirs.
They grin, eyes looking down at you like a predator stalking his prey. Your hands fumble as you try to unbuckle him, trying to free the goods hidden below. And as much as [REDACTED] wants to hurry things along, as much as he wants to just take you, they want to slow things down, make you work for it.
“Ah, ah,” they say, clicking their tongue. “Not yet, Angel. You’ll get that later, after you’re a good little girl.” His voice is deep, his words drawn out to fill the quiet space with impending promises of pleasure. You’re not sure what they have in mind, but you would do literally anything if it means doing it with him.
He slinks down towards the ground, their knees resting along the hardwood floor. You stand with your back against the wall as he lifts a leg around his shoulder. You stabilize yourself with your other leg, resting your weight on it as he hikes up the hem of your oversized t-shirt for easier access.
[REDACTED] takes a deep inhale, taking in the delicious aroma of your desire. He could spend hours just taking you in like this, and another time they might do just that. But right now, they need to taste you, to remind himself just how sweet you are.
His long, slender fingers pull your panties to the side, exposing your cunt to the crisp, cool air. You watch as scarred fingers prod your wet slit, shivering as you think of how amazing it must feel buried deep to the knuckle inside of you. You can’t get enough of his hands. The rings he wears embellishes the scars that captivate your attention. You know they don’t like to talk about it, and you’d never ask why, but something about seeing him scarred just does something to you. Like something deep, primal within you is awakened every time you see them, which is fucking often.
You’re not complaining though, you welcome his nimble and agile fingers wherever they go. Sometimes they caress your body, other times they grip your hips or throw you around, manhandling you. Whatever he does with them, you want more of it.
They slip an index finger into your wet folds, taking in exactly how aroused you are. “Fuck, angel, so wet already?” They tease, igniting flames of embarrassment and arousal within your body. “So needy already, what am I gonna do with you, huh?” He asks, looking up at you from their position beneath you.
They don’t wait for you to answer before flicking his finger along your clit, eliciting a lewd sound from you. You gasp at the sudden pressure along your most sensitive spot as your hand grips his fluffy raven hair.
He teases you, dragging his finger from your clit to your hole agonizingly slow. Your hips buck against him, looking for friction, but they stop you. His other hand grips your hip, locking you into place. “Don’t,” they say, a look of warning spreading across their features.
You comply, not wanting to test the beast. “Good girl,” he purrs before shoving his long finger into your cunt.
The air escapes your lungs as it catches you off guard. He smirks as he feels you contract around him, squeezing his finger. “Feel good, angel? You like being stuffed, hm?” they ask, as they slowly fuck into you with their finger.
You can’t answer, not in your current state. The most you can do is your pathetic, feeble attempt at a yes, that sounds oddly like a whimper. [REDACTED] can’t help but tease your inability to form thoughts. “Can’t speak already? Cmon angel, I know you can do it…” how he expertly teases you, degrades you, and still praises you in the same sentence needs to be studied, because it has the most delicious effect on you.
You could listen to him talk you through it any day, their words like torturous pleasure to your ears. Every word, every syllable a command to feel good, a promise to unravel, and a reason to keep going.
“More,” you plead, practically breathless. “More…”
“More what? Hm? If y’want something, you gotta use your words, baby,” he coos, trying to coax the truth out of you. His finger fucks into you with slow and steady precision, taking in the wet softness of your cunt.
“More… fingers...please…” Your words are all but slurring together. Your cheeks flare at the embarrassing and compromising position you’re in, already incapable of thinking straight from a single finger.
“You’re so full already,” they purr, watching with delight as your face contorts with pleasure from every ministration. “I don’t think y’can take any more… it’s already so tight, angel.” They say. “But you asked so nicely, so who am I to deny you?” He says, before slipping in another long, slender finger.
You moan at the sudden addition, feeling even fuller than before. It feels like heaven, being stuffed and stretched full of him. Knowing he has you literally wrapped around his finger has you seeing stars, as his fingers start picking up their pace and fucking into you.
“Good girl,” he coos, before lining up his face with your cunt. His tongue lies flat against your clit, licking it in broad strokes before sucking on it, building up that familiar pressure in your core. He laps at your sensitive nub, taking in every jolt and reaction your body makes in response to his torture.
“Fuck, it feels so good!!” your words tumble out of your mouth, every syllable laced with pleasure, like even telling them how good it feels brings you ever so closer to that edge.
They hum against your clit, the vibrations sending you into orbit and having you see stars. Your tongue lolls out and spit drips down your chin, but you don’t care. All your body can take in is the pleasure of him licking and stuffing you full of his fingers.
He pulls away from you to tease you once more. “Feel good, angel? You’re drooling everywhere. Do I need to stop?” He asks, starting to pull their fingers out of your needy, aching hole.
“Noooo,” you spit out, trying to convey the message that you need him to stuff you. They smile, eyes darkening as they watch you desperately try to shift your weight to keep his fingers in.
“You want it that bad, huh?” They ask, before diving face first once more. The onslaught of their tongue is relentless, every flick, every lick a spell being cast upon you.
You feel that thread pull taut, that tightening in your core right before you are completely torn apart, seam by seam. Your body shudders above, shaking and spasming as waves of pleasure overcome you. The edges of your vision are blurry, whether it be from tears of joy or your head becoming so lightheaded that you might pass out. Whatever it is, you only feel the extricating release of pure bliss wash over you.
While distracted with the laborious task of catching your breath, you feel [REDACTED] stand up again, pressed against you. Their hands unbuckle his belt, dropping his pants to the ground and freeing his throbbing member.
You gasp, excited and enthralled at the sight of him every single time. The light catches the jewelry along the bottom side of his cock, highlighting the Jacob’s ladder piercing adorning the length of his cock.
They lift that same leg as before, using it as leverage to line himself up and push inside of your throbbing cunt. Your breath catches in your throat, the air seized from your lungs at the large sensation filling you to the brim.
Tears well at the corners of your eyes, you’re not sure you will ever get used to this feeling. It’s like he’s fucking you for the first time every time, stretching you in ways you weren’t sure were possible. But it feels so damn good, being stretched by him, being stuffed so full of them that you’re not sure you can even breathe properly.
He kisses lone tears that drag along your cheeks, kissing them away and lapping up the salty liquid. His lips find yours once more, pressing against yours with such hunger and desire that he might eat you alive. And you would let him, you think. You would let him devour you until there’s nothing left to be consumed.
His teeth tug at your lips, biting them and drawing blood. He licks away the little specks of crimson dotting your lip, tasting the very essence of you. The thought that he can so easily mark you has him gripping onto the edges of their sanity, trying to not get lost in your very being.
[REDACTED] can’t get enough of you. You’re the subject of every thought that crosses his mind. You’re the recipient of every action they take. You’re the one with the sole key to the lock around his heart, a place only you can access, a place where only you are meant to go.
His lips push against yours with more ferocity, trying to taste every inch of you. Your tongue dances with theirs, circling and intertwining in an intricate dance only you two know the moves to.
They slowly, agonizingly pull their cock out, hips pulling away from yours, before slamming it back inside, deeper than ever before. You can feel the way his piercings stimulate you, how they rub against you with cool viciousness, how it adds a sensation you would never have even considered before.
You practically pant above him, mind dancing over the intoxicating feeling of being stuffed, stretched, and fucking used. His free hand finds yours, lacing his fingers with yours and deepening that connection. [REDACTED] might be a downright freak for you, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do some cute shit too. He’s fucking you, yes, but he’s also making love to you. And it’s important to them that you can feel that too.
He pushes against you harder, deeper, your leg being stretched against your body, pressed between you two as he holds it up, anchoring himself against your body. Like you’re his lifeline, like you keep him stable.
“You’re taking me so well, angel… like you’re meant to take this cock.” He coos, eliciting a whimper from you. Their praises just do something to you, they make you feral, like you’re addicted to them and need your next hit.
You writhe in his grip, totally and completely at their mercy. Every thrust into you is slow, deliberate, calculated, like they need to maximize the amount of pleasure extracted from your body. Like they need to take their time and make this moment last forever. Like the feeling of you squeezing him needs to be burned into his memory.
Their hips pick up pace, finding a new rhythm to fuck you into oblivion with. Eventually, he can’t take the aching feeling of taking his time with you, he needs to take all of you now, he needs to feel everything now.
He bucks into you with such force it has you pushed against the wall. Every thrust is accompanied by the slick, wet sounds of his cock pistoning into you. Every slap a reminder of how much he wants you, every squelch a promise to fuck you real good.
[REDACTED] groans against you, his mouth searching for your neck, for real estate to lay claim to. Various bites and marks litter your soft skin at various stages in the healing process. What’s a few more?
He sucks and bites your skin, breaking the blood vessels beneath the thin layer of your skin. It’s not that he enjoys biting and bruising you (maybe a little), but it’s mores that he has evidence of his presence littering your entire body. Like a message to everyone that you’re taken, that you’re claimed, that you’re his.
You whimper with every mark he makes, clenching around him. He fucks you erratically, feeling his orgasm on the horizon. He fucks into you with such determination he might be an olympic medalist in the category, owning your cunt like it’s his fucking job. And it is. It’s all he ever wants to do.
“Fuck, angel, gonna cum…” they say, grunting and whining into you. His body shudders around you as his thrusts slow to a halt. You can feel the way his cock throbs and spasms inside of you, stuffing you so full of cum you might be full for fucking days.
Some of it dribbles as he pulls his sensitive cock out, splattering your thighs and creating a perverted and downright dirty sight to behold. He kisses you once more, tenderly this time, like you’re fragile and they need to be careful.
Summary: your husband finds out you've been secretly buying lingerie
wc: 2k
a/n: for @yoonsucks 3k interlaced event! congrats!!!
How To Get Your Wife To Wear Her Lingerie In 5 Easy Steps
Step 1- Find The Lingerie Set In Her Shopping Bag
Every time you come back from shopping, Gojo always asks to see a haul of every single thing you’ve bought. He doesn’t care that he has to take several trips to the car just to bring all the bags inside the house. The more money you spend, the more excited he is.
He showers you with compliments while you try on all of your new clothes and shoes. Smells the new candles you bought for the house. And he notices when there’s one bag in particular that you haven’t opened up, one that you keep trying to subtly move further and further behind the rest of them.
Could it be a present?
While you’re busy putting on another dress to show him, Gojo sneakily makes his way over to the pile and opens up that pretty little bag. What he finds inside delights him.
Underneath the layers of tissue paper lay a lacy, pink set of lingerie, woven with the most dainty little flowers. He laughs out loud when he sees it, imagining you wearing it for him later that night.
When he hears your footsteps he quietly tucks the lingerie back into the bag, but he can barely contain himself and has to cover his mouth to hide his smile.
So later that night, he waits as you finish up in the bathroom, lying all suggestively on the bed with a hand tucked behind his head and a grin on his face.
The door opens up, and at first his view of you is hidden by clouds of steam from the shower. Then, you emerge from the fog like an angel, dressed in–
An oversized T-shirt and a pair of his sweats?
You’re brushing your teeth and staring confusedly at your husband, wondering why he’s lying in this candle lit room in nothing but his boxers.
“Toru…what’s all this?” you ask through a mouthful of toothpaste.
Gojo quickly recovers from his confusion. “What? Can’t a man romance his wife?”
After a minute of debating whether he’s really serious or not, you shrug, spit out your toothpaste, then join him on the bed for a good dick down.
Step 2- Discover Her Secret Lingerie Collection In The Back Of Her Drawer
That lingerie set’s been in the back of Gojo’s mind ever since he first spotted it, but you haven’t brought it up so neither has he.
It could’ve been an impulse buy, something that initially caught your eye but you later regretted. Maybe it didn’t fit. Maybe you returned it.
Gojo’s in the bedroom folding up clothes while he thinks this over, and then, like the universe can hear his thoughts, he spots something in the back of your underwear drawer.
Among the monochrome assortment of panties and bras, a flicker of color.
He just has to see what could be hiding back there...
A red, chiffon slip dress, trimmed with little lace hearts.
But that’s not all. The deeper back Gojo looks into the drawer, the more he finds.
Sets with thin camisole tops and flowy little shorts that’d perfectly hug the swell of your ass.
Sheer, soft colored bodysuits.
He’s not even sure how half of them are worn, but his favorite is a crotchless, light blue babydoll set the same color as his eyes.
And everything is decorated in lace, lace, lace.
Lace bows, lace straps, lace flowers, lace trim–lace everything. In every shape and form, and in every color of the rainbow.
How has he never seen any of these before…and how does he get you to start wearing them?
Step 3- Start Hinting Towards It In Conversations
Gojo’s been wondering how to bring up the topic of the lingerie without admitting that he’s been snooping through your stuff. Sure, it was an accident, but any hint that he knows your secret might embarrass you and make you even more reluctant to wear them for him.
But the perfect opportunity arises when he sees you in a pink sweater that’s the same shade as that first set of lingerie he saw.
It’s something you rarely wear, a scratchy turtleneck that’s been sitting in the back of your closet for months. You've been debating whether or not to throw it out for a while now.
When Gojo spots you in it his eyes light up and he wraps your waist in a hug from behind.
“I like that sweater,” he says grinning against your ear.
“Really?” You look down at the ugly thing you’ve got on. “I only put it on because it’s cold.”
“Yes, really. I really, really like it. Especially that color….”
“Oh. Well…thank you,” you respond, although you’re seriously judging your husband's fashion taste.
Then, five minutes after the conversation has ended, Gojo brings it up again. “I told you I love that color on you, right?”
“Yeah, you told me…literally five minutes ago.”
Gojo smiles. “Because it’s true. I love it.”
And you give him a confused little nod, because the sweater was about to go right to the donation center. But since he likes it so much, maybe you’ll keep it.
In Gojo’s mind, complimenting the color of the sweater should translate to any other articles of clothing you have in that color. And once you connect the dots you’ll wear the lingerie for him.
Throughout the week he starts making even more puzzling, random comments.
“Put a finger down if you’ve ever hidden something from your husband.”
“Have you ever wanted to wear underwear but like, fancier?”
“Wouldn’t it be crazy if we had sex while wearing clothes?”
But either you’re ignoring all of his hints or you really don’t understand what he means, because you haven’t been entertaining these remarks of his. So now he has to bring out one last trick.
Step 4- Give Her Insane Amounts of Money Everytime She Goes Shopping
Gojo’s been practically begging you to go out shopping all week long, and you’ve finally finally agreed to go, although you don’t understand why he’s pushing so hard for it.
“Fine, if you want me out of the house that bad…” you sigh as you grab your keys.
“No, it’s not that. I’m coming with you.”
Gojo takes you to an outdoor mall, and it’s a beautiful day outside. The sun is shining, the birds are singing. The perfect setup for people to make impulsive purchases.
The whole trip Gojo’s on his best behavior, waiting patiently for you to browse through store after store, giving you his opinions as you try on different outfits. He doesn’t complain. He doesn’t even try to get you to stop at the food court so he can sample all of the desserts.
Something else a bit…sweeter is on his mind. The thought of you using his card to buy yourself some more lingerie.
Pretending it’s accidental, Gojo guides you towards one store in particular(one he knows sells lingerie), pointing out some random robe he sees in the storefront window.
“This one next!”
You hesitate to go inside. “Are you sure?”
Gojo nods. “Yes. I’m sure. It looks like your kind of place.”
You don’t move an inch, and Gojo smiles, thinking he knows the problem. ‘Of course she wouldn’t want me to follow her around when she buys lingerie! It’ll ruin the surprise.”
So Gojo just pulls out his card and hands it to you. “I’ll be over at the food court. Get yourself something… special.”
He gives you this little smirk that you have no idea what he means by, and he chuckles as he turns on his heel to walk away.
While he enjoys something sweet in the food court he see a message from you asking if he’s getting tired and wants to leave soon. He just types back, “Nope. Take your time, sweetheart ;)"
And sends you an extra $100 dollars, because why not?
Surely you’ll get the hint.
Step 5- Get Caught Jerking Off To Her Lingerie
It’s now been officially a week and a half since Gojo first found that lingerie in your shopping bag. But despite all his efforts, you still have no idea what he’s trying to hint at. The only thing he’s accomplished is making you think he’s lost his mind.
The thought of you all dressed up in one of those lacy sets has been torturing him for a while now, so today, when you’re out shopping, Gojo can’t help but shove open your underwear drawer, pull out the first lingerie set he sees, and stuff it up to his nose.
It smells like fresh laundry detergent rather than your scent and that disappoints him a bit but…the fact that it smells like laundry must mean you’ve worn it recently. And if you’ve worn it recently it means this fabric was all pressed up against your skin…
The hand that’s not holding onto the lingerie pulls out his aching cock, and he closes his eyes and jerks his fist to the thought of you. How you’d look splayed out underneath him on the bed, all decked out in soft, pretty lace.
How he’d caress you through the dainty fabric and feast his eyes on the sight of you all wrapped up for him like his own personal present.
Gojo jerks himself harder as the scene in his mind becomes more and more clear. He can practically feel the warmth of your skin. Taste the sweetness of your lips. Hear you moaning and and whining and–
“Toru?”
There you are, standing in the doorway and watching your husband in shock. He quickly whips around to face you, looking surprised–but not the least bit guilty.
“I thought you–fuck–left to go shopping.”
“I was about to… but I forgot my coat…” Your explanation dies down and your confusion increases as you see what’s stuffed into your husband's fist near his face.
A flash of light pink lace… it’s that set you bought last week!
He’s sniffing it and crushing it in his grasp. Ramming his hand down onto his cock and making obscene moans, all while keeping eye contact with you.
“Is that my–”
“Yes, " he answers quickly. “Why–why did you hide them from me, baby?”
It’s impossible for you to formulate a coherent sentence while watching the filthy sight unfolding before you. Your husband looking all crestfallen and hurt and furiously fucking his poor flushed dick.
But if you had the words to explain you’d tell him that you weren’t hiding them, exactly. Most of your lingerie has been gifted to you by your friends. You’d only recently bought that little pink set on your own. Several times you debated surprising Gojo by wearing them one night, but you were too embarrassed to actually go through with it. So you were satisfied by just owning some pretty pieces of clothing to wear for yourself in the mirror every now and then. You never thought your husband would react like this.
“Wear it for me, please,” Gojo begs. And you can’t deny him when he’s asking like this.
As you go over to him to reach out to pry the lingerie from his grasp, he quickly shakes his head. “No, no. The crotchless blue ones.”
You raise a brow, because how would he know about that pair? Gojo just gives you a shy smile and watches as you open your dresser and take out that light blue set that matches his eyes.
You can feel his heated gaze still on you as you slip your clothes off and take your time stepping into the dress.
When you turn towards Gojo and he gets the full sight of you, his hips stutter and he almost cums right then and there.
“Fuck–you look beautiful,” he breathes.
The lingerie in his hand is forgotten and tossed to the floor as he sinks down to his knees and grabs your hips. His lips kiss at the soft flesh between your thighs before he’s parting them and watching as wetness drips from your swollen pussylips.
“So wet for me,” he whispers, his warm breath ghosting over your clit and making you shiver. “Liked watching me jerk off, huh?”
Your husband nuzzles his nose towards the scent of you and and moans deeply, then he nudges two fingers inside your hole and licks a long stripe up to your clit. He starts sucking and licking and thrusting those fingers in and out of you. Then he’ll pull the fingers completely out and suck your wetness from them before shoving them right back in.
It's like seeing you wearing lingerie gave him some newfound vigor, because he's lapping and sucking you like a man starved. Like he'll die if he stops. And he's intent on showing you that with every motion of his mouth and hands.
When he pulls his head away for a fraction of a second to gulp up some air, you grasp his hair and pull him right back to you. “Keep going, Toru–I’m close,” you huff as you cling to the white strands of his hair for purchase.
Gojo obliges, grinning and mumbling about what a ‘needy little thing you are’, and yet he’s the one moaning and bucking his hips into nothing, already pussydrunk from tasting you for a few minutes.
His hand gripping your hip moves back to your ass so he can push you even closer. And with this new sensation of being all pressed up against his face, you’re cumming, moaning and yanking hard on his hair in a way that he seems to like.
He finger fucks you through the last waves of his orgasm, then rises to his feet and carries you over to bed.
Gojo yanks his clothes off and hovers above you with arms on each side. And his eyes widen as he fully drinks in the sight of you laying down before him. Just like he imagined. But better.
But he’s not moving. He’s not even breathing.
And this is what you were worried about. Him seeing you like this and not liking it. Your hands instinctively move up to cover yourself but–
“No, sweetheart. Don't cover yourself. I want to see you.”
Gojo gently moves your hands away, and his own start to roam over you, caressing your body and rubbing you through the material of the lingerie. It’s almost teasing, to have you so covered yet still so exposed. To have you in something only he will see.
And then he’s kissing you, all hungry and hot and wet, while grinding his dick back and forth through your folds.
“Toru, put it inside,” you're whining.
He does, with one, deep thrust that has you gasping and arching your back. He sits inside of you for a bit, allowing you to adjust to the size of him.
“You take me so well, pretty girl,” he murmurs against you.
And tonight your husband doesn’t fuck you, he makes love to you. All slow and gentle and passionate. Each thrust like a deep kiss into your body. Each touch of his hands tender, adoring graze. Like you might break if he holds you too hard.
The whole time he's whispering and murmuring praises, about how good you feel about how beautiful you look. Rambling a whole mess of words like he's not even aware of what he's saying.
He slides his dick alllll the way in, rolling his hips and rubbing over all your most sensitive spots. And then he dragggs himself out, his veins massaging your walls.
His thumb travels down to swipe at your clit and it’s all too much–his mouth at your neck, his cock stuffing you full, and his thumb just gently circling until you finally finish and cry out his name.
And Gojo’s close, too, his head tilted back and his eyes fluttering shut but fighting to stay open so he can keep watching you. His hips pull back and you know the second he thrusts into you again he’s going to cum, but you never feel the warm spurts of his release.
Instead, he pulls his dick out completely and aligns it with your stomach, finally shooting his hot ropes of cum all over your belly. He watches in fascination as the sheer blue material darkens in color and clings to your skin, and he starts thrusting his dick back and forth through his own release and spreading it all over your chest.
You scoff in disbelief when he’s finished, but he stares down at the mess he’s made like it’s a piece of art.
“W-what the fuck, Satoru? You know I can’t wear this anymore, right?”
Gojo wipes the frown away from your face with a gentle stroke against your cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll buy you a thousand more of these sets, baby.”
꩜ – SOLIVAN BRUGMANSIA :: what happens when you put sol in the friendzone?
1/2 .ᐟ.ᐟ – (18+) :: content – tkatb sol x gn!reader, yandere, obsessive/possessive dynamics, toxicity, dubcon/non-con, stalking, implied somnophilia
friendzoned!sol who is too sweet about the fact that you’d told him you weren’t ready and that you just wanted to be friends, just until you figure out how it is you feel exactly. even when he’d poured his heart and soul out into his confession.
in fact, sol liked to think he was barely heartbroken — sure, he wanted you badly, wanted to spend every waking hour holding you hand and cooking you meals and cuddling you to sleep, but he also just wanted you period.
and this wasn’t technically a no. it’s just a maybe. and for you? sol was nothing but absolutely patient.
friendzoned!sol who quickly learns that he hates being hyper-aware of where he stands, which is about 500 light years too far from where he really wants to stand. he’s fucking patient. he’s sweet. he never oversteps, hugs you and lets you go the minute you loosen up, buys you food and walks you home like a good friend. but he hates how he has no right to hate when you’re not with him.
when you’re staring at anyone else. sol thinks those eyes are his.
friendzoned!sol who needs you to run to him when no one else understands you — because no one else does. so he’s always waiting by his phone, preparing your favorite snacks for when you call him crying, asking him to come over because you were just so alone. he’s never going to make you wait any longer than five minutes; sol is at your doorstep before you can cry or bury your face into anything (or anyone) else.
friendzoned!sol hates himself for how selfish he is. in his defense, you’re torturing him without even realizing it; you’ve become so affectionate ever since you’d told him you just want to be friends right now, and part of him thinks it’s because you feel guilty. in a way, it’s endearing; you’ve always been too sweet, too kind to him. but whenever you hug him, whenever your hair tickles the skin of his neck or your eyes beam back at him, he loses focus.
he’ll inhale lungfuls of your perfume when you’re crying into his shoulder, as if trying to memorize the scent; he’ll offer you his sweaters and his t-shirts when you’re cold because he cares (and wants people to know who you really belong to). he’ll steal a kiss from your cheek when you’re upset under the guise of comforting you.
sol knows it’s selfish, especially when you’re so gentle, allowing yourself to be so vulnerable around him — but if he can’t have you yet, he’ll settle. he’ll be the puppy lapping at whatever scraps you graciously give him.
friendzoned!sol, who grows braver, playing around with the line seperating friendship with something else, as you learn to trust him more.
he sees the way you seem to smile more when he comes to sit with you. when he invites you to skip classes with him. when he’s the one staying with you until you fall asleep after walking you back to your apartment. and he’s starting to say more — you deserve to know you’re beautiful, deserve to be drawn in your focused stupor in the classroom, or in the dark when you’re asleep and your hair is all tangled up.
you deserve to be needed, not wanted. and sol needs you. badly. even if you’ll only have him as a friend (for now!)
friendzoned!sol, who’s more than friends with you for a few hours at a time; that is, when you’re asleep. he’s not just your fucking friend, not when his fingertips are cradling your cheeks as you snore quietly, tracing your jawline like you’re made of porcelain.
sol can’t possibly be just your friend when he’s the one in bed next to you every night — even when you don’t realize it.
even when you’re out cold. he wishes he didn’t have to knock you out to finally be your lover, but again, he’s settling for what he’ll get.
friendzoned!sol, who dreams of being more as he presses his nose into the crook of your neck and inhales. as he listens to the soft sound of your breathing — inhale, exhale — as if it’s gospel. as he presses soft, open-mouthed kisses to the space between your jawline and your neck, gripping your waist tight with his fingertips to ground himself.
“fuck,” sol all but whimpers, engulfed in your aroma. “haah. you smell perfect. my best friend.”
it’s all your fault, really. how could sol just be your friend when you’re everything he’s ever wanted – good enough to eat –always pressed against him so delectably like a missing puzzle piece?
he’s greedy as he tugs your resting frame closer into his chest, unwrapping the sheets gently and revealing your collarbone beneath your blanket. sol’s breath hitches.
his head dips down, tongue licking a steady stripe, tracing the shape of your bones, all the way up to your lips. and then he’s sucking at your mouth, moaning at the way you hum groggily without stirring awake.
would you dream of him? would you make those sounds for him and only him?
fuck.
friendzoned!sol who’ll always be your friend.
who’ll always be sweet on you, who’ll be at your beck and call as long as you have the ability to tell him. and since he’s just such a good friend, he’ll always be there to tuck you back into your blanket and press soft kisses to your forehead as he lets you drift back into deeper sleep. he’ll always make sure he’s as quiet as possible when he’s climbing back out of your window.
friendzoned!sol, who’s just your friend — until you realize that you always have been and always will be only his.
@ ttakdoll, 2026
got sidetracked writing something else so here's a short for my beautiful boy !
⟢ this is requested by @55sturn for her "i don't fuck with you" au!! i miiight open my divider requests again, but only to my mutuals. anyway, i didn't really know what kinda dividers to make tbh, buuut i hope there's at least a few that fits their vibe!!
Shoko glides her tongue right between your puffy folds, flicking onto your clit and making you gasp out, head falling back against the pillows that smell just like her.
'Mnh, you like that, hmm?' She's damn near laughing at you, her nails pressing into your thighs, dark eyes lidded and dilated almost black. "Answer, sweets."
"Mhm!" All you can do is arch more for her, for your roommate who you never thought would be drinking your cunt up. You'd come home utterly horny despite your date being the worst, and Shoko's eyes had locked right in between your thighs, where slick was dribbling.
Need help?
Who the fuck were you to turn down that? To gently tug at her silky dark locks as she trails her fingers through that fucking mess you're making, humming on your clit, your juices drooling down her chin.
"Ngh! Shoko!"
She slurps it all up, slender digits pumping inside your needy walls, she can't help but grind right up against that pillow between her thighs, hoping she can swallow all your clear cum before your other roommates get there.
She just knows Satoru and Suguru will be so fucking mad she tasted you first.
Well, their fault for going to an all day movie marathon, even better for her to part your folds and spit on your clit, smiling at your gasp, at your shaky thighs.
"Have you not been eaten out?" You shake your head. "I'll take good care of this pretty pussy, don't worry."
She's dragging the flat of her tongue on your clit even faster, your screams echoing in the apartment as she drinks your cunt right up, her two fingers stretching out your messy hole. The squelches alone are loud and filthy as you feel your core tightening, closer and closer, blood rushing through your ears.
That's when you hear it.
The door opening, two idiot men laughing and shoving each other, but Shoko doesn't relent one bit, no, she keeps fingering you, looking back at the men at the doorway with dropped open mouths, smirking with her slick face.
"Oh you're so mean," Satoru looks at you now, his eyes dilated bright fucking blue - "I wanted to eat her first!"
"Y-you did?" Your brows draw together in confusion, Satoru strips his pants off so quickly it's fucking comical, as that little pink tongue hits your twitchy clit again, you can see his cock slapping his flat abdomen.
Suguru is still utterly mesmerized by the sight of not just you - but Shoko's pussy right in the air.
"I've already had your panties in my mouth," Satoru walks over and leans forward, stroking his veiny cock now, whining out as your mouth kisses the tip. "Please, pretty girl, wear this as your gloss?"
"You're so fucking corny," Shoko mumbles, leaning up to nip your hip with her sharp teeth, Satoru's gliding his tip in and out of your mouth, Suguru moving closer, eyeing the sight of you.
How filthy you must look.
Thighs spread, her head between your thighs, a pink tip leaking white into your mouth. Suguru can't help but glide two fingers and slide them inside Shoko's cunt, leaning over and pressing kisses right along your ribcage, dark hair falling against your skin.
"You're that wet licking her, huh? Slutty pussy," she moans out, her tongue working you faster, but he yanks them right out, making her huff in frustration.
"You're an idiot too," she swears, Suguru sucks her juices off his fingers, just to tug your head away from Satoru's cock, leaning over you now. You're so fucked out and needy, from all three roommates all over you, it's impossible to take it.
"Open f'me, princess," Suguru murmurs, you do just that, opening wide as he spits Shoko's juices right in your mouth, the sight of it having them pause for just a moment. "Mmm... good girl."
You cum right on Shoko's fingers, they all avidly watch - Satoru's milky drops falling on your face.
"My turn," Suguru hums, making Satoru scowl.
"My turn!?"
"I'm not done yet, go jerk off in the corner," she orders, but they really just don't listen.
satoru’s voice reverberated against your whimpers, possessing a soft lilt to his husky tone. his lips ran its course on your pussy. not even eating you out, just a damn tease.
his lower lip dragged itself, tracing your flushed folds. your wetness smeared on his lips. he pressed the gentlest, firmest kiss on to your throbbing cunt.
your hips lifted, just a little to meet with his mouth again but all he did was let out a chuckle at your desperation. “now, now, let’s be patient, alright?”
“spread your legs a bit more. can you do that for me, baby?” he blew a cold gush of soft air directly on to your clit, making you gasp, complying instinctively with his request.
he straightened himself up, away from your pussy, and tugged his trousers down— unveiling his thick, robust and undeniably hard of a cock, smeared with pre-cum on the pinkish tip.
prominent veins decorated his cock. the entirety of it was bruised a regal shade of purple and blue, purely from restraint, agony of not penetrating the pretty hole.
one hand of his wrapped itself around the base, slowly jerking it up and down sensually, coating his girth with the pre-cum from his. his other hand had adjusted his hair, pushing the wet strands of snow locks back. “look at me, baby. see what you do to me, sweetheart?”
“you’ve got your man so damn fucked, huh. doesn’t happen that often” you could truly see it, his face flushed, crimson injecting itself in to him, as blood was coursing to his head with profuse intensity.
his canine bit in to his lower lip as he slightly lowered himself to you, a spread of his torrid tempered hand lay on your red marked thighs while his knees pressed on to the futon’s softness.
the tip of his cock maliciously kissed your ready hole, only a little, not entering like you had desired for. his hold on his cock tightened as he vehemently guided it up and down your raw pussy.
your juices coated his length as his tip steered through your cunt, drenching on the mess, thrusting between your folds.
one hand of his had pinned your thigh around his waist while the other was too lascivious, shamelessly spread your pussy lips apart with his thumb and index fingers. “hm, yeah, look at her. so wet for my cock. yeah, makes so much sense, doesn’t it baby?” he raises one of his eyebrows while a smirk graces his wintry face. “so damn wet for me. nothing new though”
he was so egotistical, especially now seeing the condition you were in. cheeks scorched with an impaling desire, mouth parted to whine and moan, cunt wet enough to completely deep throat him.
his cock, still idly dousing itself with your wetness in a cadenced pattern, a rhythm curated by him only. one that had a burning contact of skin on skin but deprived you of pleasure.
and as if he couldn’t get any more cocky— he slowly dragged his meat from your succulent hole to your lonely clitorus bud as he repeatedly slapped it, then, slowly nudged on it. the slit of his tip incessantly nudging around your clit had you instantaneously moaning his name in stutters. “i know, the dick’s too good huh?”
he was stimulating your pussy so well. consistently dragging the head of his cock between your labia, arrogantly chuckling every time you moaned in dire need. “fuck yeah, want me so bad don’t you? of course you do. why wouldn’t you?”
he had mockingly put it inside but slipped out of quick, a fake pout formed on his face. “shit– oops sorry, can’t put it in, cutie. it’s too big for you. what should we do? hm?” he feigned a sad look while teasing your entrance. how annoying.
“g-god, you’re so full of yourself” you, somehow, muttered through your gritted teeth which had earned a chuckle from him. “mhm. and now, you are about to be as well”
˖ ࣪૮₍ 𝓖.𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𓂃 ⭒ really shouldn't be surprised when you start grinding on his abs
it was his fault, really.
why did satoru have to be so be so broad? so big? why'd his muscles have to be so biteable? why'd he have to lay there with his abs on full display, knowing that they did to you?
slut.
yeah, he was just innocently playing candy crush on his phone while he waited for you to get out of the shower but. . .
slut. he was a slut.
with your thighs yearning for friction, your pussy all warm and needy from the hot shower, and the ovulation demon screaming in your mind, you pounced.
dropping the towel as you approached the bed. he barely batted an eye. too focused on matching candies and keeping a streak.
you didn't care. all you cared about was straddling his torso in a swift swing and pressing your hot cunt up against the hard ridges of his abs.
they tensed. his breath stuttered.
“baby?”
the phone hit his chest.
blue eyes popped bigger as your hands shoved to his shoulders and shoved him down when he instinctively tried to sit up. your thighs squeezing on his sides as you glared down at him with a cutting, ‘why'd you gotta be such a whore?’ in your gaze.
rutting. without a care. without shame. you flushed your cunt and angled just right. dragged your hips so that his abs bumped and ground perfectly on your twitching clit.
his breath grew shaky. hands magnetically clamping to your waist.
“sweetheart,” he cleared his throat.
“just shut up,” you huffed. whined. nails clawing on his broad shoulders as you resisted the urge to swoop down and take a bite. your hips bucked harder. “j-just— mngh, need this.”
and you called him the slut?
his surprise faded into a sinister grin.
satoru leaned back. head nestled into the pillow as he batted snowy lashes up at you. “oh, my needy baby,” he crooned, splaying his hands down your thighs and rubbing his thumbs in coy circles on your ass. “just ready to grind on anything, huh?”
“shut up—” you choked a whine as he intentionally flexed his muscles to taut just right against you. “ 's your fault for just laying here like that.”
his deep chuckle vibrated his chest and choked your moans. your pussy slicked up his abs and glistened the ridges in the dim light of the bedroom. dragging your mess all over him as your thighs quivered.
“poor, poor sweetheart.”
you dropped. mouth eager to shut him up. as if you weren't riding his abs and puddling all over his chest. twitching and pulsing and working yourself up to an embarrassingly quick orgasm.
“toru,” you moaned into his tongue. he cupped the back of your neck and dragged you deeper while his free hand squeezed your ass. flushed you harder. “t-toru— toru toru.”
“ssshhhh, c'mon sweets. lay it on me.”
and you did. hot and heavy and spilling all over him as your cunt fluttered over his hard chest. you could only drool into his mouth with hiccups.
as heat washed over your quivering body and your mind spun, your needy hips took a mind of their own. sluttily grinding out your orgasm until you were whimpering in his hold.
satoru's blue eyes glimmered brighter as he parted from the kiss. a greedy glow paired with a lick of his lips. he gawked at the filthy sight of your cum creamed and bubbled all over his abdomen. stringing up to his chest. you'd made him a messy canvas.
two large hands fixed on your thighs. squishing them in his palms.
“oh sweetheart,” he fauxed a pout up at you and stroked his thumbs over your pelvis. “lemme make it up to you for not helping sooner, hmm?”
yanking your shaky thighs higher, he topples you over his face. a husked groan muffled into your pussy as he mouths down your slit. your hands shoot for his hair with his name whimpered on your lips.
“pretty girl with the sluttiest fuckin' pussy. what a treat.”
So hum yeah green flags or red flags? ahshahdhsd I love them both 🙂↔️🫶 ... a little more the red flags though 😭 but omg Crow and Cove just got me crying my eyes off
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