qxiva

[qxiva]

playpen- inspired by that billie eilish snippet

everyone called you a barbie, a mixed up barbie that can't make up her mind about the things she wants, always in her feelings yet so beautiful, that face of yours lights up every room, they love you, yet you hate them.

that's what you thought until your eyes laid on suguru, his baggy clothes and long black hair that draped over his shoulder like a scarf, every time you saw him you would gulp, that's who you needed, a ken.

he wasn't your average ken doll, but that's what made him stand out and reel you in, he wasn't too clean cut, and that was sexy to you. always uncertain in the things that you wanted, but you were sure about this, sure about him.

every time he walked pass, your eyes would light up. the casual days you saw him, and you didn't say anything turned into him noticing and giving you a grin and silent wave.

suguru's sweet charm turned you on, he didn't speak much, but that's what you liked about him, how polite and cool centered he was, the fascination that you had for him turned into a sweet school crush, his face always in your mind lingering, then your mind wandered.

wondering how you and him would look together and how he would treat you, it was childish but fun. seeing him around campus every time you showed up bought butterflies to your stomach and a smile to your face.

suguru didn't delay speaking to you after just waving to you and smiling, there was something about you that drew him in like a fish on a hook, but you did that with everyone, so it wasn't that surprising.

every day, walking up to you and starting a small conversation with that perfect smile plastered on his face. all he could think about for the rest of the day was you and vice versa, small crushes for the both of you turned into fixation, not knowing the other person wanted them.

the both of going back to your empty apartments thinking about each other, mouth dry and your bodies filled with arousal, the thought of touching each other sent eruptions throughout your bodies.

stripping off your clothes and laying in your bed, suguru doing the same and placing his hand on the length of his dick, slowly sliding his finger over his wet tip, teasing himself pretending it was, a small groan sliding out his mouth.

your thighs widening as you slip your hand in between and slowly sliding it down your wet core, your fingers going in between your folds and into your entrance, your body wasting no time to react and a couple of moans falling out your mouth.

a finger slipping into your wet cunt, suguru's hand sliding up and down his shaft, his other hand rubbing over his chest pretending it was you on top of him, your mind drifting and pretending it was big fingers sliding in and out of you.

the pleasure the both of you were receiving by not being in the same area, by pretending it was the other person, made the pleasure even more intense. suguru replaying your soft voice in his head as he stroked himself faster and harder, his hand tightening around his dick as he thinks back to you saying his name.

the replaying making his body jolt and warm up, his cheeks warm with pleasure and a smile on his face, he wanted you so bad that you were all that occupied his head, if only he knew you thought the same.

his name sliding out your pretty mouth as you play with your nipples and push another finger inside you and gasp, suguru's face and long hair popping up in your head. your back arching off the bed and your thighs fighting to stay open so you can keep riding your high.

the bed creaking and your head lightly hitting the headboard behind you, you wanted to stay in your head all afternoon touching yourself to him and the nasty things you've imagined him saying to you.

suguru couldn't stop either, he wanted to go on and on, simulating like you were on top of him and riding him with that gorgeous body of yours, your warm sweet voice whispering in his ear telling him to give you more.

his body thrusting upwards in his fist and his eyes squinting as his mind keeps wandering. your body grinding and rubbing yourself all over as you push your fingers into you harder and faster, a knot forming in your lower stomach. the feeling of a hot pulsing pressure in your lower stomach.

suguru jolting with pleasure and unable to control himself, his hair disheveled all over himself and a few strands sticking to his forehead from the sweat, his chest rising and falling briskly, his hand mover faster than before and squeezing the tip of his dick hard.

the feeling in your stomach dispersing as you push your fingers into yourself a final time and moaning out suguru's name, your eyes squinting as you push out your orgasm, suguru doing the same, whimpering your name.

a smile appearing on both your faces as you both catch your breath, connected with each other.

[qxiva]

R/trueoffmychest the guy I lost my virginity to is stalking me — Geto Suguru

Synopsis: tldr a few weeks after my 2(x) birthday, I lost my virginity to this guy in the showers of this hot spring I got a gift card to as a birthday present. Well, it turns out he was depressed, and now he thinks my (in his words) pretty pussy is the best antidepressant.

— disclaimer (mdni, +18, oral m!receiving, virginity loss, size difference, public shower sex, religious imagery and referencing, cringey euphemisms, exhibitionism hints, dubcon ish cumming inside with permission, strangers to lovers maybe depends on if you count obsession & stalking as loving<3)

Steam rising from the milky blue waters, a sigh escaping your lips at the ways your muscles relax, looking down at the way your body disappears until the water pools around your cleavage. Your best friend bought you this overpriced gift card at this traditional onsen. Although beautiful, you can't deny the discomfort that creeps up your spine at having to be bare to soak within the waters. Fortunately, you managed to find a somewhat hidden area, albeit you can still hear the hush whispers not too far away, but it was an improvement from other areas.

At first, your skin tingles and prickles everywhere the mineral-rich water touches before your body slowly acclimates to the temperature the way you can feel all the tension releasing from your muscles, almost forgetting about the mission you set for yourself this year. You almost couldn't believe a year had gone by until you got to your birthday and realized there was no one there to light your candles in celebration with you, another year of painfully inching through your twenties with that problem between your soft thighs — your virginity. At some point, you started lying to your friends about having lost it, just sitting there and dumbly nodding along as they talk about their crazy sex adventures like you've gone through the same thing, all the while your poor virgin cunt was throbbing around nothing at hearing your friends story of being bent over her ex's car and railed in some parking lot.

The sounds of water ripples and the feeling of a small current lapping at your collarbone disturb your thoughts, and your head instinctively tilts towards the sound. Every inch of the man's body is chiselled to precision, muscles looking like some Greek sculptor carved out muscles. Catching from the male's Apollo's belt and upwards, from the sharp jawline to the soft lips to the slope of his nose to the dark feline eyes to the scrunch of his brows to the bun in his hair . . You catch the reflection of your wide eyes when you force yourself to look away, fearing being caught.

This man . . he's the one.

— or at least, that's what you told yourself. You've achieved step number of finding your virginity stealer, but this is going to be the part you struggle with most, losing it.

There's no denying the unease that settles into the pit of your belly when you will your gaze toward his direction where he sits in the water, elbows extending from his broad shoulders and head resting back against the rocks that line the natural edges. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, jaw so sharp you wonder if it's clenching from whatever tension has settled into muscles he is trying to work out in the calming waters. His hair is primarily kempt within a bun, with the exception of the dark tendril that frames the side of his face. The way the perspiration clings to his skin creates a sheen that accentuates every curve and contour. His eyes are deep pools of midnight, but something in them appears dull . .

. . Oh fuck, his eyes.

It's too late to look away; you're already caught gawking at him for heaven only knows how long. Your body shuts down before your brain, your mind screaming to look away, or even better, leave. That sounds like the best option, leave and never look back.

The man tilts his head. He looks mean, or maybe you're just intimidated by men. Real men. Real men you can touch, run your soft palms along the landscape of solid muscles from their pecks to their abdomen. You watch in horror as he pushes off his elbows towards your direction, heart sinking to the tips of your pedicured toes. Mortified, you manage to finally tear your eyes away. An apology springs to your lips, but you never have the chance to fully conceptualize it before the deep melody wraps itself around your eardrums and sends shivers down your spine, "hey."

That's it?

You're wondering if you misheard him until you gather the courage to look back towards him. Now that he's close, the fog no longer obscures your vision, allowing you to see him clearly. His soft lips are drawn in a grim line, eyebrows slightly pinched. His jaw takes on a tension that makes his teeth unconsciously grit. His body doesn't seem to have an ounce of fat, making you wonder what he must be eating to maintain his muscled physique. Swallowing the thick dryness in your throat, you find your voice, "hey."

Water cascades over from the crown of your head to your shoulders, down the soft curves of your body. His hand is flat against the tile wall of the empty shower, head tilting down to look at you. Your neck strains back to look at him in compensation for the height difference, clammy hands resting upon his shoulders when your lips part from the kiss. The room's empty, but for how long, you're unsure of. It only worsens the way your paranoid thoughts spiral. Every tiny sound makes you jump and try to peer around his big body to ensure no one is entering the public washroom of the onsen.

"We don't have to do this if you're too scared," the male, who you know now as Suguru, whispers, beneath the underlying fatigue that runs naturally through his voice lies an intimacy. His thumb drags along your cheek, cupping the side of your face to subtly prevent your stare from escaping his at every little sound. Suguru finds the way you look at him like a little bunny staring into the slack mandible of a rapacious wolf so endearing. It makes him feel something, albeit dull, curl inside his gut that he hasn't felt in years since the extermination of Riko Amanai. He wants to say that feeling's akin to the sense of comradery he felt going on missions with Satoru. Still, it's been so long that he forgot exactly what it feels like.

"No," you're quick to reply, eyebrows jumping with concern that he may pull away. You're already bare, so close to losing your virginity. If you had to wait this long to lose it to a guy as good-looking as him, you would wait all over again, but there is no way in hell you'll let anything ruin your chance this time. It's not exactly any better that you didn't bother mentioning you're a virgin for fear he would opt out, making your voice coy when you speak again, "I want it, Suguru."

Suguru's not one to deny a pretty thing, precisely one so anxious and unsure of themselves as you. There is one thing you're confident of that he knows for sure, and it's that you want your guts stirred. It almost makes a smile flit across his mouth.

"Turn around, pretty girl," his voice is low and stern, making you want to bend and succumb to his every will. Your eyes bore into the blue tile in front of you, hands planting firmly against them with the slight arch of your ass towards him. He's so much taller that you almost wonder if it'd be easier to just lay on the ground like dogs, but you feel his biceps flex when his arms wrap around you, and your mind goes blank.

You almost choke on your own spit when you feel his engorged tip prodding your entrance, making you regret being too scared to look down at his size before agreeing to this. Perhaps, if he knew you better, if this wasn't an instance where he would most likely never see your pretty face again, then he would've eaten you out to prep you better. Suguru pecks a wet kiss against your shoulder in a wordless apology, holding your waist in his large hands when he looks down to watch his length sink in. A hiss sounds through his lips when his tip breaks through the threshold, "shit . . only a little way in, and your pussy's gripping me . . so damn tight."

He’s fucking huge, feeling so much bigger than you would’ve imagined. It feels like you’re being splintered through into two pieces. The space between your eyebrows disappearing from the tight scrunch of them drawing inwards, jaw slacked open as he forces his girth into the tight cavern of your virgin cunt.

You’re so focused on the splitting pain that you have no sense of what’s occurring with the person behind you. Suguru’s body is detaching from his overactive mind, his eyes wide on the sight of his cock slowly forcing its way through the walls of your pussy. His heart thudding inside his ears, all his blood rushing to his growing cock, throbbing with each inch deeper inside what he can only describe as holy. God is speaking to him through your pussy.

“Is it in all the way,” your sputtering voice, a pitch higher and breathless, barely manages to bring him back to his senses, reminding him that you’re an actual human and not some idol to be worshipped. “Yeah . . Yeah, it’s in,” he tells you through gritted teeth, unaware of how his jaw is clenched so tight the tendons twitch. Nothing matters to him anymore in this moment that you and your cunt. This is the universe, or whatever may exist out there, answering the desperate calls from him late in the night. Heaven.

It hurts, but you’re not going to tell him that — no, you’ve already decided there’s no going back at this point. You’re seeking comfort in the arms that console you, keeping you on the tippiest tops of your pedicured toes while he’s bent in the knees behind you. Relief finds you when he slowly pulls himself out, a slap ringing against the sound of the shower pelting your bodies, eliciting a yelp from you. Something’s growing inside him, something carnal derived from the overwhelming feeling of love that he swears is blooming.

“Suguru,” you’re gasping out, the water washing away the copious amounts of slick seeping from your heat, making each thrust just a bit more unbearable. Your core hurts, but fuck, you think you like it. You must, that’s the only thing that can explain your eyes rolling back. He’s so big, he can get the perfect view of your face from behind, freeing a hand to brush some hair from the side of your face to see the way it morphs.

“You feel like . . like a fuckin’ virgin, baby,” Suguru grunts, face scrunched up like he’s angry, or maybe shocked, but your vision is too bleary and you have to keep blinking away the water droplets to tell. He doesn’t know how true that statement is. All the pretty sounds he’s certain that he’s pulling from you are choked at the back of your mouth, forcing their way out in adorable little squeaks when the pain starts to shift to pleasure.

This is what sex is like?

You’re almost sad for having not experienced it until now, but at the same time, you don’t really mind it since you’re being fucked by someone akin to a religious diety. The muscles in your neck strain from how you're forcing your head back to look at him, bodies slippery and squeak against each other. Obsidian locks fall down around his face, small black irises poking out to bore into your expressions.

“Deep, pretty girl,” he’s questioning through a seemingly pitiful murmur, keeping one arm locked around your waist to keep you stable while a large hand roams over the plush of your breast, groping one before dividing equal attention to the other. It feels like his hands are everywhere, overwhelming all of your senses. Through your inability to form words, you manage to whine with a nod. He’s not going to torture you by making you speak, not when your pussy is flooding his brain with dopamaine.

“S’ okay,” he hisses, thumb and index pinching a nipple to pull, only satisfied when he receives a cry from your puffy lips, “I know s’ deep.”

Every thrust is a slow draw back, only for a hard thrust inside that makes you feel like you’re going through the motions of that first big stretch all over again. Your hands dangle limply in the air, having slipped from the blue tile wall too many times, but he’s got you, or at least you’re relying on him to catch you if you fall. He’s fucking you dumb. “Can’t fucking believe this is what monkey pussy feels like,” or something along those lines is uttered from the man as if going through an life changing revelation, but you don’t know if you care enough to make it out.

“What,” is a thoughtless murmur to pry further about what the fuck he’s talking about, but all your mind cares about is how good you feel, the feeling of his lips smearing kisses along the back slope of your neck, feeling his deep breaths through his nose.

“Shh,” is all you're met with, and that’s what you do. The fear of being walked in on is long forgotten by this point, and each time it starts to creep back into your subconscious, a roll of his hips to bury himself to the hilt to the point you’re certain he’s reaching your belly makes any thought dispel from your head.

“Needed this just as much as I did, didn’t you,” Suguru’s muttering, all rhetorical questions, because he can tell from the way your beautiful face is morphing that there probably isn’t a single coherent thought in your mind. It’s not like he’s all there either, but he doesn’t know that him thinking that the universe is responsible for bringing your pussy to him isn’t logical. “Knew it the minute I caught you lookin’ at me. Needy fucking thing,” he’s rambling now, only furthered by the way he feels your pussy clenching around him, “fuuuucccckkkkk.”

“Sugu,” is all you can manage to form, unsure if it’s water running down your face or your own tears, too fucked to even tell if your crying. Your mind is drawn empty by the pad of his middle finger sinking down your center to draw taut circles on your throbbing clit. He’s definitely holding you up at this point, there’s no way your spasming legs can be keeping you stable.

“Don’t need to say a thing, baby,” thank fuck Suguru’s a special grade, because the plausibility that someone’s able to feel as good as he does and hold you in the air doesn’t seem so likely, “know you’re close to cummin’, like your body was fucking made for me.”

— & At this point, you’re starting to think that perhaps it is made for him. Well, at least, you want so badly for it to be.

The warm knot that was tightening inside of your belly was beginning to draw taut. Each individual weave of the rope snaps the closer you are. Your rheumy eyes are unable to focus on the man whose face you desperately want to see as you cum, but it hits you before you know it. Hot white flashes through your body.

“Cum on me, baby,” Suguru’s words somehow manages to make its way through your foggy brain, along with the sounds of skin clapping loudly through the pelting of water along the tiles, “never had a prettier fuckin’ girl than you on my dick.”

“Fuck, how can you get this much fuckin’ tighter,” Suguru grunts, making the ramblings of a man of faith kneeling before an all-seeing power. Every thrust of his cock inside you sends another wave of earthshaking pleasure through you until your melodies become sobs. He’s fucking you like he’s trying to dig something out of you, perhaps your self-respect, but you lost it all the moment you met his eyes in the hot spring.

Suguru does dig it out of you in the form of a wet release that he feels wetting his adept fingers twirling your puffy clit. What easily could’ve been dismissed as just water from the shower is quickly brushed off by the sound that comes from deep within your core and out those pretty lips. “Hey, hey,” Suguru’s voice brings you back to your senses, “eyes on me, pretty baby.”

Everything in your body wants to yell at him for making such an indelicate request like he wasn’t making you forget how to speak. Your legs feel numb, but so does the rest of your body. His fingers slip into your mouth to silence your cries, “shh, shh, shh, babygirl, you’ve gotta be quiet for me.”

Your tired limbs succumbs to his tender manhandling, arms swaying limply in the air following each slap his solid abdomen into the flush swell of your ass that ripples with the water droplets from impact. All your faith is in Suguru’s strong arm wrapped around the small of your waist to keep you from collapsing. Spit drags over your chin when his fingers slip from your lips, a large hand taking a firm hold of your neck to keep your head tilted back for him.

He takes the opportunity when your lips part in a cry at the overstimulation to slip his tongue into your mouth, groaning at the way your lips subconsciously latch around to suck on his, “want to keep you forever, princess.”

Suguru sees heaven when he’s cumming. The steam of the simmering water are the parting clouds of heaven as he’s spilling his seed inside an angel. That’s what you were to him — Godsent. Suguru’s hips still into yours, pressing himself deep inside as you moan into each other’s mouths, letting you feel the warm ripples of thick cum shooting into your cunt. He doesn’t even need to see it to know he’s cum the most he has in a long time, and he’s so annoyingly sweet about cumming inside without your permission too.

He’s not a monster, can’t be when you have the pussy of an angel. That’s why he’s careful when pulling out of you, the hand on your neck shifting to grip the underside of a thigh, lifting it up to let his cum spill out of you. “Hm,” whines between your pursing lips, tucking your face into his neck to hide the rosy hue flourishing on the peaks of your cheeks to which he responds with a deep chuckle and a peck to your forehead.

Not much is spoken between either of you as he assists you in drying off, before taking care of himself while you slip back into your clothes. You have to fight off whining when his hands pull away from you, residing to just a little huff through your nose. There’s this little hint of a smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth that your cloudy mind thinks is full-blown and dorky, but your muscles are just too worn out to go all the way.

A little bit of anxiety settles in your belly knowing that this may be the last time seeing this man again, which is why you take your time lacing up your shoes before a call of your name disrupts your thoughts. “Huh,” your eyes seem to flutter wide, head quickly lifting up. Suguru stands right in front of you, and there’s a bit of humor in the fact that this is the first time you’ve seen him clothed, not vice versa, but you don’t mention it.

“Your number,” he exhales, face marked by exhaustion from the way his dark eyebrows hang low over blown-out visioneers, “can’t let a girl with that good of a pussy go.”

— all rights reserved © gorehsk 2024

[qxiva]

what is the flow rate of gojo’s sperm? 🤔

😈 😈 😈 ALRIGHT LET’S FIND OUT

shoutout to m00tie @quinnyundertow since u said there's nothing that turns you on more than hearing how mobile a man's flagella are. this one's for you bb.

alright, first off, because his cum is confirmed to be both incompressible fluid as well as move with laminar flow, these attributes satisfy the conditions of pouiseulle’s law:

i had to do a little bit of research to determine if it was laminar or turbulent flow, and apparently sperm travels with both stokes & laminar flow, which is pretty interesting, and also moves in a sinusoidal propagating wave, likely due to the movements/shape of the flagella

note: microscopic sperm travel & ejaculate fluid travel are two very different things, but i can’t solve for anything microscopic here so we’re just gonna go for the ejaculate fluid only

anyways, to use pouiseulle’s law, let’s first determine our variables, and make sure we get the units right as well! always draw a diagram w all the variables:

now, let’s identify the variables:

1. radius (r) of tube -> this refers to the pipe/tube, therefore in this case, the vaginal canal. now since gojo has decided to creampie, we can assume that the radius of the vaginal canal will be equivalent to the radius of his girth (or circumference), as he is stretching you out. gege told me the diameter of his big fat schlong is approximately 3 inch girth, therefore the radius = 3/2 = 1.5 inches

2. ΔP refers to change in pressure gradient, in this case i’ve decided to have P1 as pressure at vaginal canal opening, and P2 as pressure at the end where the cervix is. therefore, ΔP = (P1 - P2) for the equation. i know you’ve got that gorilla grip coochie, esp when the world’s strongest sorcerer is fuckin you SENSELESS, but all things considered this is a very difficult parameter to measure, therefore i found this article to help out with this:

we’re going to assume “contraction pressure” (at the vaginal canal opening) is P1, due to gojo’s intrusion. and we’re going to assume “pressure at rest” is P2 at the end near the cervix (he’s pulled out a lil bit ok this makes things easier for me)

kPa are the units that we want for ΔP in this case, therefore it’s a simple calculation:

ΔP = P1 - P2 = 41.8 kPa - 26.8 kPa = 15 kPa

3. the last variable we need to account for here is L, which is the length of the PIPE HE’S LAYIN INSIDE OF YOU (jk it’s just length of ur coochie). now, i imagine this man is a generous lover, and he’s alr made you cum a few before he stuck it inside, so with arousal, the vaginal canal length has likely increased to about 5 inches (moreso 4.75in based on avg values in research but he stretched you in even more during the sexing!!) therefore L = 5 in

4. the other two values are just constants:

π = pi 3.1415 (imma just use pi function in calc)

η = this is viscosity of a fluid. based on this research article, the viscosity of human semen is approximately 9.35 cps. we want these units in kPa•s (remember that your units need to match the units of the other variables), so we need to use density of sperm (1.043 g/ml) to convert the factor (i just used chatgpt lol) but the conversion factor is pretty similar therefore we will just plug in something close to 9.35 kPa•s (true value is a little smaller)

ALRIGHT WONDERFUL! WE HAVE DETERMINED ALL OF OUR VARIABLES :) NOW WE JUST NEED TO PLUG IT INTO OUR EQUATION/DIAGRAM:

*note: mind the units! (shown in blue) there are lots of variations on how flow rate can be shows via units, so u wanna be careful that they match

YAAAAY!! so the flow rate (Q) of gojo’s cum is approximately 0.63787 in^3/sec ☺️💕

use a quick converter online, and we can make it into liters per minute -> 0.02214 l/min. convert this to milliliters -> 22.14 mls

which means that, in one of gojo’s average cumshots, he cums 22.14 mls of ejaculate !!! :0 sheesh that’s a lot!!

but how does this value compare to other men? research varies, but on average, men ejaculate between 1-10mls per orgasm, therefore the world’s strongest sorcerer cums more than TWICE the worldwide average!!

and one final calculation shows us that when he finishes, it’s about 0.369 mls per second :) that's fuckin fast!!!

thank you for cumming to my ted talk!! byee

alr ellie out ✌🏼😖 (i have sm brainrot)

[qxiva]

On this year women's day, all we could think about are Palestinian women in Gaza.

Nearly 9,000 women have been killed in Israeli attacks in five months. Another 2,100 are missing and presumed dead, while 23,000 have been wounded and over half a million are displaced.

“Palestinian women, especially in the Gaza Strip, are exposed to the worst humanitarian catastrophe,” Ashraf al-Qudra, the health ministry’s spokesperson, said on Thursday.

Dozens of women and girls have also been detained and face harsh conditions in Israeli custody, including sexual abuse.

Women in Gaza also struggle to find menstruation products and access the necessary pregnancy and post-natal care. The consequences on reproductive health, including a rise in stress-induced miscarriages, stillbirths and premature births, have increased significantly.

Women in labour are undergoing caesarean procedures without anaesthetics, and a shortage of post-operative care such as medication, antibiotics and pain relief further exacerbates the situation.

According to the health ministry, 5,000 women give birth monthly in Gaza under “harsh, unsafe and unhealthy” conditions caused by Israeli bombing and displacement.

There are 60,000 pregnant women in Gaza suffering from “malnutrition, dehydration and lack of medical care.

There have also been repeated cases of Israeli soldiers mocking Palestinian women by posting videos and pictures of themselves rummaging through personal belongings in Gaza homes, making derogatory comments and posing with women’s underwear.

[qxiva]

Fallen Angel, Choso

[qxiva]

[qxiva]

actually dry humping could fix me. mutually grinding and gripping each other and holding and grinding and cumming in our pants and -

[qxiva]

Reblog if you think thick thighs are great

[qxiva]

Im going to bash my head in THIS IS SO GOOD TEHEHATEHS

hey

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you're both drunk and (not) in love

warnings: alcohol mentions, angst if you're me, fluff, nonsensical conversation

a/n: i will be messing with this later but if i have to think about it for any longer i'll cry (also listen to be (acoustic) because i said so)

last part | next part

*

year four.

the house is almost silent, tonight. 

usually, at close to midnight, it's quiet. the house will buzz as the furnace works, the house settling itself into the earth, but there's none of the laughter that echoes throughout the hallways like it does during the day. no names being yelled across a threshold, much too loud for the size of the house itself. 

the kids are always in bed this late, and usually you and satoru are too--besides the nights where you stay up talking or arguing, speaking with soft voices for so long that your throat is sore by morning.

those are the nights when you fall asleep on the couch together, or you migrate to one of your rooms, speaking nothing of the broken rules in your relationship. 

satoru's bed is a lot more comfy than yours, anyway. his blankets are heavier and his pillows are fluffier. 

or that's what you usually think to yourself in the morning when you wake up there once again. it's an excuse, sure, but at least it's more reasonable than reality. 

but tonight is quiet because the kids aren't home. and it's almost midnight, and the two of you are just walking in through the door. 

and, admittedly, you're a little bit drunk. 

"don't--" you say, laughing languidly, tripping over satoru's legs as he pushes the door open. it took him five tries to unlock it, but you don't say anything, because everything looks a bit uneven. "don't forget to shut it all the way."

satoru ignores you. "why are all of the lights off?" 

you step over the tiny shoes left by your front door, almost tripping on air, and flick on the lights. you squint at the brightness, groaning.

but the lights do nothing to ease the eerieness of the hallway. 

you can't remember the last time you came home this late. the last time you had a night without the kids. 

it's probably why the two of you went a little overboard at the bar. but it's hard to keep up with shoko anyway, so it's not really your fault. 

satoru hiccups. "why don't we have night vision?" 

"humans suck," you answer, trying to kneel to take off your shoes, which are pinching at your feet. 

"true," he says, kicking his own sneakers against the wall. his jacket is already off, and on a normal night you would chastise him for not hanging it up, but at the moment you've kind of forgotten about the coat rack. 

and how to think properly. 

"did you--" you shake your head, looking at satoru, who seems to be upside down. "did you lock the door?" 

"of course i did, i'm not a heathen." 

but you see him rattle the doorknob, clumsily, and that must satisfy you because you walk out of the hallway, into the living room, which is just as dark as the rest of the house. 

it's strange that no one else is home. strange that there's no one to tuck in, no room to peek your head in before you pass out. 

"how late is it?" you ask satoru, who's following so closely behind you that you almost fall back into him when you stop. 

"dunno." 

"is there someone here? i feel like i'm in a horror movie," you turn to satoru, who's squinting around like he'll be able to see something in the dark room. "where are your glasses?" 

"dunno," he says, with a grin. and then hiccups again. 

you roll your eyes, but grab his hand as you pull him along the house, trailing to one of your rooms--you can't remember which--and forcing yourself to take off your socks before you climb into bed. 

it's a good thing that both of the kids are gone because neither of you are exactly quiet as you walk through the house. satoru is tripping every step, and you're holding onto all of the walls trying not to do the same. 

seriously, neither of you ever get out. 

and, in the blink of an eye, you're in someone's bed--hopefully yours--nuzzling yourself under the blankets. your head is swirling, and you can't see anything, but satoru is there, you think, because you can feel him. 

like a buzz on your skin as his hand trails up your arm, and he pulls you into him, probably. it's all fuzzy. and you don't care what he's doing anyway--you trust him, even drunk. 

"i'm never drinking again," you mumble as you turn, wiping something off of your face.

satoru laughs. his breath on the side of your cheek makes you blink. "you said that last time, i think." 

"i was right." 

"lightweight," he teases like he isn't slurring the word. 

he's so very close, and yet, you curl your leg around his, trying to get yourself even closer. 

satoru doesn't complain as you move, as fast a dream, and then you're lying on top of him. 

maybe it's not his bed. maybe he's the comfortable one. 

you blink hazily at his smile and press a chaste kiss on his jaw like it's an appropriate thing to do. 

you can't think of anything to say, so you just hum into his skin as you settle in. you kinda want to lick him.

"why're you so cold?" he asks you, rubbing your arms. 

you don't respond. 

being with him is like walking on top of everything else. walking on nothing at all, actually. 

his hands wrap around your waist, secure and sure, like he's never hesitated a day in his life. and you think, just for a moment, that you've never been warm like this.

that maybe you've been living in a tundra. maybe that feeling in your core has been frozen for so long, and satoru is the only thing warm enough to defrost it. 

but it takes a long time. that hurt, that fear eased in the edges of your soul cannot be cleared out with a single burst of flame. 

though satoru is not one single thing. 

but, nonetheless, his hands on you, holding you to him, are enough for now. 

his eyes--with nothing to stop them from reaching you, like a blindfold or lens--have always been far more than you wanted. 

but he's looking at you, so you can't think about any of it.

you want to tell him something, but you’re not sure what. there’s something in your mouth, ready to come out. but it stays hidden, a secret you’re keeping from even yourself.

his eyes are on yours, focused and sure, pupils blown.

you kind of want to laugh at him, because inhibitions make you giddy. and satoru has always been something that excites you. 

his face echoes with the memories of two children, two foolish kids who never understood just how good they had it. 

have it. 

"do you think i'm strong?" satoru asks you, still slurring, and he's joking. he's been quiet for a while, so you don't know where this is coming from. on a normal night, you'd probably be concerned about the question. 

but tonight you just giggle against him, tracing the slope of his eyebrow, which makes his face twitch. 

with your other hand, you pretend to feel around his arm like you'll find anything but muscle. "hmm," you pinch his bicep, giddy when he flinches from your touch. "i guess. might wanna hit the gym, though." 

you think you might die from just the way he's looking at you. 

"you're a bad liar," satoru grins at you. he's breathing heavily through his mouth like you've exhausted him. 

"so are you," you tell him. 

"says who?" he asks, and he's lying to you right now. 

"me. remember when you tried to convince me that you painted that portrait in the hallway?"  

"i did," satoru swears, but he shakes his head as he says it, looking away. 

a bit of reprieve for you, but you still tilt his chin back. you want his eyes.

"see? bad liar." 

"i get it from you." 

you grin at him, not sure what it means. 

"if you died, would you come back to haunt me?" satoru asks you, suddenly. like the question is significant, in some way. 

"if i die you'll already be a ghost," you say to him, "because you're dying first." 

"no, i'm not." 

"do you want me to die?" 

he pretends to think about it. "well, no, i guess. but if you did, would you haunt me?" 

"definitely. i'd throw things around the house for you to clean up. and mess with your conditioners." 

"so you're an evil ghost." 

"just a bit of karma for letting me die." 

"i'd avenge you," satoru argues. 

"i don't want to be avenged," you roll your eyes. "just keep me alive."

"oh, yeah. guess i could do that." 

"you guess?" 

"i mean... it's a lot of work. i'll have to look at my schedule." 

"next time i go on a mission i'm going to come back hurt just to see you freak out. maybe i'll lose a limb. or some brain damage? which is worse?" 

satoru, who squirms around a paper cut, gives you a plagued look. "i'm going to tell yaga about the threats you're making." 

"like he'd believe you." 

"i'll lock you in the basement. you'll never go on another mission again. there, i solved our problem. you never leave the house and i don't have to worry about keeping you alive." 

"we don't have a basement." 

"oh. right," he frowns. then he blinks, and the smile is back. 

"also, i keep you alive every day. you can't return the favor?” you sigh. “i'm being exploited." 

he raises a brow. 

"who do you think hides all of the sweets?" you ask him. "the kids aren't eating all of those." 

"where'd you put my pocky?" 

"you'll never know." 

"i'll torture you for information. i know where you're ticklish." 

you squirm away from his seeking hands, but don't move. you grasp one, stopping him from touching any further than your side. "i'm not scared of the man who won't even remove his hair from the drain after he showers." 

satoru makes a face. "but it's all slimy and weird." 

"it's your hair! stop making megumi do it." 

"i feed him. he can help out." 

you have to keep yourself from giggling again, like a foolish girl who’s in love with her best friend.

you roll your eyes and fall flat against him, letting go of his hand, even though it's very soft, and you relax on his chest. there's a moment where satoru settles into this--into you--and then his hands begin to roam the expanse of your back.

"if i was a ghost," satoru whispers, "i would lay on top of you in the morning so you couldn't get out of bed." 

"like a sleep paralysis demon?" 

"yup." 

"dont you already do that?" 

he licks his lips. "it'd be scarier if i was invisible." 

"can ghosts touch people? i don't think they're tactile." 

"i'm not like a normal ghost." 

"not like normal anything." 

satoru nudges his nose against your forehead in retaliation, but he doesn't argue. it's not like he can, anyway. 

"hey," you whisper, after a moment. you're looking up at him, admiring the slopes and concaves of his face at this angle. his eyes almost make his face glow, his own personal light. 

"hey." 

"do you think the kids are awake right now?" 

"no," satoru sighs. "nanami probably put them to bed at six. after feeding them straight broccoli." 

"i told him their routine..." you mumble. "i think." 

"d'ya think megumi'll haunt us?" 

"he'll never die," you tell him, "just out of spite." 

"true." 

"you can't haunt him, okay?" you say, very seriously, giving him a flat look, which he laughs at. "when you die he deserves some peace." 

"no promises." 

you poke his chest but have no answer. actually... you're not even really sure what you're talking about. or that it matters. 

there’s something in your mouth, ready to come out.

but satoru is still warm. he smells like bitter alcohol and bubblegum. 

"hey," you whisper, again, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. you’re not sure what you’re doing.

he is blurry this close, but you can still see all of him. you'd know his face if you went blind, behind a mask. you could black out--you probably will--and he'd still be there. 

"hey," he murmurs back. his voice is like a punch to the throat. but his smile is effortless.

"you're pretty," you whisper, as you think it. "and sweaty." 

satoru's looking down at you, and his smile stays the same. his breath is on your face, sugary sweet. "so are you." 

"i know." 

satoru laughs, his knuckles running across your cheekbone. it almost makes you shiver. "pretty," he whispers like it's a joke. 

"why're your eyes so blue?" 

"wavelengths, or something. didn't you pay attention in school?" 

you laugh, shaking your head at him. it's funnier than it should be. 

"don't you like my eyes?" he asks, suddenly pouting. 

"yeah. they're like a nightlight. 's never dark." 

his eyes are probably your favorite thing in the world, you don't say, 'cause you can't think. his eyes are unimaginable, and so close to you.

satoru swallows, shaking his head. "that's all i am to you?" 

"and a teddy bear. you're comfy." 

satoru hiccups, but holds you closer, smiling against your forehead. "good." 

there's a couple of minutes where the two of you bask in the silence. the quiet is a nice break from it all. and you're both so drunk that the usual fears can't seem to make their way in. 

not the way they usually doing, plaguing your body. fear is just something that is, right now. nothing to be afraid of.

but, even so, you've never felt so safe. or so sleepy.

and this time, it's satoru who whispers, "hey." 

"hey," you say, back. you smile at him. his fingers trace circles on your back. or maybe he's writing something. you can't tell. 

it feels nice, though. 

"i like you," he says. and you're not sure if he means in general, or here, in his bed with him. maybe it's a question. 

it doesn't matter. 

"i like you too. hey?" 

satoru just hums this time. you can tell that he's about to fall asleep, because his eyelashes flutter shut, and his breathing has begun to even out. 

"satoru," you say, again, because you want to see his eyes just one more time before you fall asleep on top of him. 

you have to say something. it could be the alcohol, but it might be just you.

"yeah?" 

"i think i'm in love with you," you say, and you mean it but it's not what you meant to say. but you're half-asleep, about to drool on his chest, so you can't even contemplate the words. 

is it drunk and in love? or drunk on love? 

you can't remember. 

you could probably kiss him right now. he’s close enough, and you’ve always wanted to. but, even this version of you knows that it would be a bad idea. so you don’t. and you don’t think about what you’ve just admitted.

satoru's smile is vicious, as it begins to blur. you can feel his heart beating against your fingertips. "yeah?" he whispers, and you're not sure why he sounds breathless.

you nod against him. 

"me too," he murmurs, and you can't think about what it means. he whispers something else that you don't hear.

because the two of you fall asleep just then, and the words don't really mean anything. 

just, you know, everything. 

*

in the morning, your head pounds. 

one of you left the blinds open last night, so the sun wakes you up, shining through the trees outside. your mouth is dry, and your throat burns, like you swallowed knives. 

and you're still on top of satoru, and you remember exactly how you got there. 

he's groaning when you begin to move, holding you closer. and this isn't all that unusual. 

but when he opens his eyes, there's a daze in them. some secret he's thinking about as he looks at you. 

and you both forget to mention that you remember the night before. and everything that was said. 

you probably shouldn't talk about it with a hangover, anyway. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[qxiva]

the brunch

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru does not get jealous, just so everyone knows

a/n: (that previous statement was a lie) the brainrot is real

last part | next part

year four.

it’s a bit unusual for the house to be this filled, especially this early in the morning. 

chatter echoes throughout the space, loud exclamations, and secret whispers, all making up a terrible-sounding symphony. 

megumi and tsumiki are playing some elaborate board game with onlookers on the coffee table, both of them smiling proudly. 

satoru is trying to tidy up the many different plates and cups everyone's left lying around, laughing when shoko rolls her eyes at something he's just said. 

and you're in the kitchen, talking with nanami like you haven't seen him in several years--it's been three weeks. 

it's very strange for the four of you. to let anyone--not to mention a dozen people--intrude on your carefully planned out saturday mornings. to invite others into your world of burnt breakfasts and uncombed bedhead. 

but here you all are, managing. 

and you’d reminded satoru probably seventeen times—too many times, he thinks, with far too many knowing glances—that hosting was not something to be taken lightly (and that you weren’t going to help him ((both of you know that you are)). 

but he doesn’t mind this. 

the crowded house, or the many different phone calls he had to make about getting this party (which he swore wasn’t one) set up. the loud sounds or the inevitable cleanup he'll try to swindle his way out of. 

it’s quite nice. actually, satoru is a little proud of his makeshift brunch, and the fact that everyone came, and everyone seems happy. he likes that he can barely hear his thoughts, that there's nothing important enough for him to think about anyway. 

and honestly, with all of it going on, satoru should not be this discontented with the fact that you’re smiling at someone else. 

he invited nanami because he knows that you miss him and that you’re too embarrassed to admit that. or too proud, maybe. too forgiving. and he knows that you wouldn’t have done it yourself, had he not gotten involved. 

but still. should satoru really have to sit back and watch as you fawn over a man who wore a suit to casual brunch? 

no, he should not, thank you. 

"what's wrong with your face?" shoko asks him after the silence has drawn on for too long, sounding very uninterested. 

satoru shakes his head, snapping out of his daze. "what?" 

"you've got a weird look." 

"no, i don't." 

"it's like that time that you chugged the entire carton of expired milk someone left in the fridge." 

"don't remind me," he says, trying to put on a theatrical wince, but he just ends up looking back at you, with a blank face. 

there is no time for joking, or flamboyancy, or caring about anything else in the world. 

shoko does the same, her eyes trailing where his are, watching as you tilt your head at nanami, laughing when he murmurs something. 

in typical nanami fashion, his lips only twitch a little bit, but it's enough to tell that he's amused by whatever conversation you're having. 

that he's got your full attention, and he gets to watch your eyes as they shift from one glance to another and--

shoko nods, looking back to satoru, who is trapped in his stare. chained down at the mere thought of you. "oh," she says, rolling her eyes. 

satoru doesn't look away, but grunts in the form of a question. 

"you're an idiot, you know that?" 

he frowns. "what?" 

her eyes are exasperated, and her smile is all-knowing. she has always alluded satoru, and his very short attention span. and he kind of hates her, at this moment, for distracting him. 

"seriously," she scoffs at his perturbed face, "after a whole year of living basically in the same room, i thought that the two of you would finally get over it." 

"who?" satoru asks, smiling confusedly. "get over what?" 

"you. get over yourself. honestly, only you and y/n would raise two kids together and pretend like there's no intimacy in it." 

"what?"' satoru repeats, dumbly. 

"and, by the way," shoko tells him, sipping on her drink. "jealousy is not cute." 

and then she walks away, like she's answered a single one of satoru's questions. 

and he frowns, thinking about it. 

because--no, there's no way she was talking about him--he shakes his head. where would she even have gotten that idea? there's--

no. 

and it’s—it’s not jealousy. he laughs off that thought.

satoru gojo is the strongest. he's the one everyone looks to. he doesn't have anything to be jealous about. 

and besides satoru knows that you don’t get enough time away from your discombobulated family. that your life revolves around them, and they around you. 

and the two of you have talked—at length—about the fact that you’re both young, and neither of you should live the lifestyle of some middle-aged parents, with no way to connect with the people in your age group. the people that would’ve been your family, in some alternate universe. 

satoru knows that you don’t carve out the things that you need without being asked to, that you get anxious about these types of occasions--he's watched it happen before, when you were forced into a corner at one exchange event the two of you shared, or when yaga took you all out to dinner, and you'd shrink yourself in your seat until someone noticed. 

he's seen you try to make yourself smaller at the convenience of others, and as he's grown (he almost winces at the thought) satoru has sworn to himself that he'd keep you from any situation where that might be necessary. 

so he shouldn’t--he doesn't--mind that you’re having a good time. he should be--is--happy with himself, for setting it up so you could, for planning it around you, and the kids. he should be preparing himself to gloat in your face about the fact that he thought of this, and he set it up all on his own. 

god. he doesn't have anything to be jealous about. 

but that doesn't change the fact that satoru can't really see beyond you, ten feet away from him, laughing at something that nanami said. 

and maybe it's not the fact that you're talking to him, or that you're smiling at him like satoru wants to be smiled at, he thinks, but more that you don't act that way with him. 

satoru is well aware of the grounds in your relationship, and he knows that you spend most of your days rolling your eyes at the obnoxious things that he says, trying to protect the children--and him--from the antics that you've all grown used to. 

he's not jealous, but maybe he's a little bit annoyed that he hasn't seen you this easy, and light since you were still in school. since you were still younger than him, and still someone he could look down upon. 

you cling to nanami like satoru clings to you, he realizes, sullenly. you smile and tease--if just the way your eyes crinkle means anything. 

you grin at nanami like you're trying to irritate him. like you're the reckless one between the two. 

and maybe it hurts satoru more just to know that you are the reckless one.

he'd lived with the two of you for three years. he'd experienced nanami's typical brooding--which, now, reminds him a lot of megumi, actually--and the way he'd think through everything. maybe a little bit too much, even. 

satoru was always there to watch you giggle alongside the austere man, pull him out of whatever thought process was darkening the mood, and remind him that none of it was all that serious. 

satoru knows--he knows--that you and him are similar. he knows that it's why he feels the way he does with you. that the way the two of you dance around your emotions, and say nothing that you truly mean is something to cherish, if also something to despise. 

he's not jealous, but maybe it hurts satoru because he knows that you've never been able to truly not care, with him. that he takes up all of the ignorance one household can get, even without meaning to.

or maybe it's just been a long time since he got the chance to watch you interact with anyone else. 

maybe he's just ridiculous, and he should go do something else before he thinks about this for too long. shoko is wrong, though, he thinks. he's definitely not jealous. 

he's satoru gojo. he doesn't have anything to be jealous about. 

but he's still watching when you shake your head at something nanami says, tapping him on the shoulder and excusing yourself while waving him on, still light and airy, eyes meeting satoru's with that same grin. 

it's probably worse to know that it doesn't quite belong to him. that he's not the sole benefactor of it all. 

"hey," you say, bumping into him on purpose when you come over, your hands wrapping around his forearm as you lean on him. "need help?" 

"nah, i've got it," he finally looks away. he doesn't want to watch this. 

but you're still grinning at him, trying to catch his eye--even with the sunglasses. "you're all alone over here," you coo, "i can help you clean up." 

satoru snorts. "i thought you weren't going to help with anything." 

"well, since i'm already here..." you drawl, beginning to pick up spare utensils, and napkins. all of the things he'd been too distracted to do. 

you're humming as you do it, completely content with everything. 

satoru tries not to grind his teeth at the fact that your mood is not because of him. 

"how's nanami?" he asks, unprecendented, after a moment. 

you shrug. "he's good. i guess the real world sucks too," you say it with a lilt, like there's an inside joke that satoru is missing. 

he shakes his head, trying to keep his words civil. "the real world?" 

"the corporate universe, and laws of reality, or whatever," you roll your eyes, and you sound exactly like him. "no curses or magic to liven things up." 

"no monsters, you mean." 

"or that," you smile at him, looking almost giddy. 

satoru hums. 

you put all of the trash you've collected on a serving dish, piling things up without a care in the world. and then you turn towards satoru, and he can feel your slight frown before he can see it. "you okay?" you ask him. 

satoru freezes. "what?" 

"is it getting to you? the brunch?" 

"what? no, i'm fine," he tries to look at you like you're ridiculous, but his face feels stiff, and wrong, and far too happy for you. 

"you look like your tongue is too big to fit in your mouth." 

he sticks his tongue out, almost on command. "does it look any different?" 

"hmm," you pretend to observe. "yeah. might want to see a doctor about it." 

"noted." 

"are you trying not to laugh at something? you can tell me if i have something on my face, you know." 

satoru's smile is a bit easier at that, but he shakes his head anyway. he kind of wants to run away to his room--something he's learned from raising two children. "no, i'm just thinking." 

you raise a brow. 

satoru scowls. "what? you didn't think it was possible?" 

"no, not really."  

he shakes his head. he tries to turn away, scoffing like it's a joke (it's not), but your hand reaches for his bicep before he can. 

"hey," you say to him. he turns back to you, and your smile, nose scrunched up as you lean in. "how are you?" 

"busy. i have to go make sure there's enough ice in that bucket." 

"i'll come with you," you say, even though you both know that he's lying. 

"no. i'm sure nanami has more he wants to talk with you about." 

"is that what this is about? nanami? are you mad at him, or something?" 

"why would i be mad at him?" 

"i don't know, satoru, your brain is a confusing thing," you tug on his hair just a little bit. "hey, c'mon. why're you upset?" 

"i'm not upset." 

satoru should be basking in your attention, but he can't quite bring himself to notice it. or that you spend every day with him--mostly without complaint--and never fail to laugh at something he says. 

no, his thoughts are not very organized, at the moment. 

"you've got your little angry pout on," you nudge his lips with a finger. "i think you've been spending too much time with megumi." 

he grabs your hand, trying not to squeeze. "i'm fine. go hang out. you're not supposed to be helping me." 

this time, you pout. "you don't want to spend time with me?" 

he groans, throwing his head back. "i'm trying to be nice," he tells you. "you know, like how you're always telling me to?" 

"ew," you say, giggling a little bit. "i don't like it." 

he rolls his eyes. 

"seriously, come hang out with me and the kids. we can beat them at charades, or something, again. you need a little pep in your step." 

"what are you, my mom?" he deadpans but feels his heart twitch a little bit because you're still holding onto him. 

"might as well be. take a break, satoru, i miss you." 

you say it so easily and nonchalantly that satoru wants to pick you up and lock you in a little box, just so you can never talk to anyone but him again.

he stares at you, blinking beneath his glasses, feeling like you're doing all of this just to mess with him. 

honestly, whiplash is a serious condition. 

you smile at him, fluttering your eyelashes unknowingly, pouting at him a little bit, even through the smile. 

and satoru's never been able to say no to you, so he lets you pull him with you, back to the kitchen, where you grab nanami too--to the dismay of satoru, of course. he tries not to glare. 

and satoru chooses to ignore the discerning look that nanami sends him, and the fact that his arm tightens around your waist as you drag the two men along. 

he's not jealous. god, it's just very loud in here. 

*

somewhere several minutes earlier, when the two of you were standing just a little bit too close to each other, both of you pouting, looking like two children fighting over a toy--you had a couple of spectators. 

shoko scoffs, shaking her head. "that's disgusting." 

you're on your tiptoes, head tilted as you purr something to satoru. they can't see his eyes from twenty feet away, but they can all tell that they're stuck on you. glued, never to be torn away. 

megumi looks at the woman, then follows her eyes to the two of you, blank-faced. 

tsumiki giggles. 

"we know," they both say, rolling their eyes. 

*

next part | series masterlist

[qxiva]

Till the shower starts jizzing

₊˚⊹🚿 All Night

warnings/content - use of pet names (mama, lovely), shower sex, p in v, unprotective sex (please wrap it before whomp whomping🙏🏽), rough-ish (not really) sex, gojo eating you out // pairing - gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary - you and gojo having your usual passionate time in the shower but gojo can’t get enough of you

You and Gojo have been going at it in the shower for a while now. Usually you’d be complaining about how long it’s been but at this point you’re too fucked out to care.

“C’mon mama, we’re almost done just a little more…” Gojo huffed in your ear before speeding up his thrusting. One hand was gripping on Gojo’s hair with the other on his shoulder, the mix of the warm shower water and the passionate love making the pleasure too much to handle, Your moaning increasing as you felt Gojo abuse your sloppy cunt.

“Wai- wait Gojo! auh.. slow downnn!” You whined out but your pleads fell on deaf ears as Gojo’s cock continued to ram into you.

“Feels s’good and warm.. Fuck, you’re driving me crazy…” Gojo groaned before kissing your neck. You felt like you were seeing stars at this point. The way Gojo spoke to you, the pace he was fucking you in, the kisses he planted all over your neck, you felt like you were in complete heaven.

“I’m close..“ You moaned out, the grip you had on your boyfriend’s shoulder increased, your legs feeling like they were gonna give in any second.

“Yeah?” Gojo smirked at your fucked out expression before ramming into you in a harsh way again. You let out more lewd noises as your back arched off the shower wall, a mix of you and Gojo’s cum flowing out and dripping down on the shower floor.

“Let me clean that for you,” Gojo whispered before getting on his knees and licking at the mess both of you made, his tongue licking in between your soft folds. You moan, feeling your legs start to tremble and shake again due to the pure ecstasy you were getting. Gojo then started to flick his tongue around your clit, you letting out soft gasps and moans as a result.

“Tastes so fuckin’ good.. need more of this pussy,” He spoke into your crotch, the vibration of his voice against your clit sending you to cloud 9. Just as you know it, you felt yourself wanting to cum for a second time.

“Baby m’ cumming again..” You moaned out, your hands tangled in Gojo’s wet, white locks as he continued to lap at your juices.

“Go ahead, cum for me lovely.” Gojo started to move his tongue a bit faster than before, his blue eyes looking directly up at you to admire his work. Soon, you felt your climax reaching its peak. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let out soft gasps, cumming all over Gojo’s face and in his mouth.

——————

After you both got cleaned up and dried off, you both laid down in bed with Gojo resting his head on your chest. You picked up your phone, your eyes widening in surprise when you realized it was midnight already. You look down at Gojo, who’s already fast asleep with his arms wrapped around your waist. You took a deep breath before wrapping your arms around Gojo, the feeling of tiredness finally taking over as you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

a/n: first smut post lowkey kinda hate this but it’s whatever 😭 just a lil something before my creativity runs out again LMAO

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damn whose heel could that possibly be 👀

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I need to hump someones leg

Satoru enjoyed getting his hair cut. Who wouldn’t love the fresh feeling of a haircut? How light his neck feels when the hair that covered it finally gets cut off. He’d be a mess, letting his hair grow out, doing his best to hold it up with headbands but soon it started to out grow those, too. A damn shame.

Getting his hair cut wasn’t the only benefit, though. Satoru had another reason he’d let his hair grow out. Just to see you. You were his favorite barber. The first time he came in was when he first moved to the area. A nice calm place to start as a teacher. He wanted a fresh start and you gave it to him. Your beautiful skin caught his attention. The thick curls you sported, your plump lips..your hips- hell, everything. Satoru was entranced. He glanced over your tattoos while you cleaned the chair in the middle of the room. It was just you.

“Coming for a hair cut?” You raised your brows up at him.

He was at a loss for words. Nodding, he stepped forward. “…I am.”

He enjoyed the way your hands ran through his hair. The way he quite literally let out a breath once you held his head back to stare at how you’d cut it. You were staring into his blue eyes, but they couldn’t stay off of you. And in the mirror across from him, he watched as you got to trimming. Heaven, that’s how he could describe it. He knew from that moment then he just had to have you.

The undercut you left him with was..impactful to say the least. The way you ran your fingers across it, satisfied with your work, Satoru wish his hair was longer. After paying you he definitely became a regular. Why? He enjoyed your hands in his hair.

Not only did you get his hair right, you were a fucking beast.

“Take it-“ He’d gasp, holding onto your hips to steady them. “Don’t run from it baby, gonna fuck my hair up.” He thrusted into you at a somewhat fast pace, the usual for Satoru. Your body was on fire, straddling him in the chair of your shop while riding his cock. The clippers in your hand testing your skill to the max.

“…Toru-“ One hand in his hair while you tried your best to finish the undercut you loved so much, the clippers shutting off suddenly while you felt your orgasm hit.

“Baby..im gonna be a mad man if i have to go bald.”

divider @/cafekitsune | I REALLY LIKED WRITING THIS LMAO

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Reblog to tell zionists to fuck off your blog. If you say you aren't a zionist but still get offended then uhhh sorry hun but this is exactly for you <3

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I moaned

choso has your name tatted on his v-line and surprised you with it when he was fucking the shit out of you.

he loved you so much and couldn’t deny that; he always thought about you and always yearned for you. if he saw flowers in the store, he would get them for you; if he saw something he thought you'd like, he got it; it didn’t matter the cost.

there was no doubt in the love he felt for you; he wanted a reminder of you everywhere he went, so he got your name tatted in your favorite place.

your name with a little heart beside it. when he looked at it in the mirror, his cheeks turned bright red, and he had a huge smile on his face.

he knew he had to wrap it, but he couldn’t wait, so he got you in bed, stripped you and himself down, and got to work.

avoiding taking off his briefs so you couldn’t see it yet. you could tell choso was a little happier that day, but you just went with it.

it wasn’t until he had you on your back and was giving you deep strokes with his briefs down to a point that you noticed little “scribbling.”

“what… what’s that?” your breath was short from the pleasure you were receiving; it was almost like you were hallucinating, but it was too dark.

your hand reaching out and touching it was definitely real. taking your finger and hooked it on the hem of his briefs and tugged it down, your eyes going wide.

he takes your hand, slides his fingers in between yours, and leans down, giving you a kiss on the cheek and pushing into you deeper, a moan slipping past your lips.

“focus baby.” his voice soft as he pushed into you again deeper, pressing on your soft spot and staying there, pushing his briefs down all the way.

sliding his fingers out of yours, sliding his finger over the tattoo, and looking at you through his eyelashes, his face getting red again.

“how’s that? you like it?” your mouth ajar and a laugh escaping your lips. reaching your hands to his face and pushing him into your lips.

“i love it.”

that tattoo is a reminder of how much he loved and cherished you.

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MUNCH MUNCH CRUNCH CRUNCH MUNCH CRUNCH

Alrighty then. Retry, LOL!

A Gojo scenario inspired by "Sloppy Seconds" by Lay Banks :))

OKAY OKAY IVE HEARD THIS SONG, I GOT YOU.

satoru couldn’t stop thinking about you; you were on his mind 24/7, and it drove him insane. he did everything to keep you out of his head, but there you were.

your laugh, your scent, your cooking, your clothing, your car, your everything—you were on his mind, and he couldn’t get it to stop.

the only way he could let go of you was to get with someone else and create new memories that would overcast the ones you broadcast in his mind.

after a few weeks, he finally found someone who was worth his time, had his humor, was attractive, and was everything under the sun.

he almost had you pushed out of his head, until it came to the sex.

when you and satoru were together, sex was a big thing. the both of you fucked each other so well that y’all would often have to call out of work.

so to his surprise, when he was running his hands over his new partner's body, you were in his mind with your moans, whimpers, and voice, telling him how to touch them.

“yeah, just like that, touch her tits.” your voice echoing in his head from every movement he did, but whenever he budged and did what you told him, there she was squirming under him and moaning.

little did the woman beneath him, with her legs spread out, a dip in her arch, and her hair sprawled against the mattress, try to get that porn star look; satoru was already claimed.

he already had someone who gave him a hard time just by giving him a blink and made him cum by just placing a hand on his bulge.

the man who was easiest to please whenever you had him in your clutch was now buckling at his knees, trying to figure out why his boner went down and why you were still floating in his head.

the person beneath him was warped, and the image in his mind was now projecting onto him, his length slowly getting harder again.

“fuck…”

the warped image of you now fading and going back to the woman smiling at him. he couldn’t do this; he couldn’t be stuck on you; it was pathetic.

and pathetic it was, the whole night his hard on changing from soft to hard, unintentionally it would get back hard every time he thought about you.

your distant words telling him how to touch her and what felt good, he would do them just to see if it was a hallucination, but she would moan and clamp around his fingers.

he found himself replaying that night over and over again. you had him in a chokehold; he couldn’t even breathe; it was torture, and you knew that.

satoru was no longer that golden platter everyone wanted, craved, or fought for; instead, he was the sloppy seconds no one wanted.

his only value is now tied to you.