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6ixtoru · 3 days ago

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Indulge in dis whilst i’m cookin up more work 🙏🙏

ART DECO

nsfw! s. gojo x fem! reader // w.c 2793 // g.mlist

synopsis: it was a shame for gojo satoru, who had grown up surrounded by preserved artistry, to learn firsthand that not all art was everlasting

a/n: I had to repost this ffs, anyways reblogs and likes appreciated my cherubs! >_<

Frothed blooms of salmon and apricot enriching Tokyo’s eventide proceeded to be serenaded with Indigo, the populated city’s horizon an essential pillar to an aesthetic landscape.

While the Earth executed a divine pirouette, observing the lethargic alternation of shifts between the sphere of molten aureate and silver mercury, the inky atmosphere synchronised its presence with its minuscule counterparts, a harmonised choir, with each luminous orb appointed an opportunity to glimmer.

L/n Y/n’s evening typically consisted of dropping by a sumptuous storehouse displaying century-old creativity, consistently consuming the lineage of artists’ breakthroughs displayed throughout every quarter of this specific residency she favoured in visiting.

The timeless pieces professed an irreplicable craft she aspired her own artful originals to be able to achieve; the homages not only enlivened her passion but triggered her artistry, her fixated gaze acknowledging the seamless flicks of professionalism and the tonal range of neutrality gracing ethereal portraits, the delicacy of intention was a mere delight.

The lean male who had lingered on a whim had also noted her physical mannerisms. His abrupt intervention, providing her with untold history behind the particular painting, a discreet ploy to accompany her before closing.

A chance encounter with the male identity she promptly learnt was named Gojo Satoru followed an exchange of her own moniker and ambitions. Regular attendance to that specific establishment was swiftly substituted for her unpretentious abode; a studio apartment now a persuasive invite for herself and Gojo to indulge in fornication, the modest interior graffitied with euphonic moans extracted from their previous gatherings; the melodious remembrance an intoxicating rapture one would plead to undergo.

Currently settled at the edge of her bed – the prime and involuntary witness to their limitless rendezvouses – her plush thighs caged his lean waist, clammy surface subtly sticking to the inner expanse of her limbs as she tiredly bounced upon his stoic cock, the continuous sequence of her hips smooching his, arduous (considering this was far past their first round), yet compelling, as her sensitive clit yearned for the male, rapacious of her talents beside swivelling frazzled bristles into tattered acrylic pallets, to centre some pressure onto the raw bud rather than steady her hips which were bruised with rosy imprints.

“Not enough,” He mumbled, pale lips usually saturated with premeditated taunts now clasped around her perked nipple, darker areola already savaged with oblong engrains via his brutal bites was awarded a sensual stride of his flattened tongue, followed by a teasing flick whilst the other roused bud (already spoiled with moisture) somewhat twisted further from his mere pinch before both his palms discovered differing purchase upon her figure defaced by the intimate hues of his venereal gestures.

In response to Gojo’s complaint, she merely whined, having felt the caress of his rough palm sprawled against her back, subtly shoving her further into his chest, prominent rouge blemishing his fair pigmentation or rather, indications of intercourse which was once sacrilege with intent of offspring tarnished by society’s progression.

“Fuck,” He spat out, clenched jaw an insinuation his feral characteristics had begun to surface whilst he thrust up into her, the intensity increasing and aimed as Gojo’s neatly trimmed nails clawed crescents into her waist as if he had located leverage– the piercing smiles a selenic homage to the soul depraved canopy encompassing their scandalous location – though the deliberation behind his movements remained insufficient.

The straight row he considered as his tongue’s dental guards scraped her jugular in desperation before he panted against her craned throat. “Not fucking enough, Babe.”.

A firm tug on his snowy strands, dishevelled and slightly clinging to his perspired forehead embedded with furrows of concentration, reeled him back with the abrupt roll of his cerulean irises abruptly forced to greet hers, which provoked a brazen moan of her name. “Yeah? You agree with me, don’t you, Sweetheart?”.

“Don’t tease Satoru,” she intended to chide him, which more so sounded as a plead, aching arms clinging around his broad shoulders as the emergence of his cockiness projected itself through his familiar grin that grazed her neck before she was effortlessly laid on her back, the velvety duvets accommodating their entangled frames.

Momentary emptiness between her sopping folds followed suit – which she protested – whilst he adjusted above her, simpering at her partially dominant resolve gradually deteriorating (as if his own front was any better).

Briefly kneading both her hips, he shook his head, blanche fringe briefly obscuring his immersed sight that leisurely absorbed his exquisite work.

“A ‘please’ wouldn’t hurt.” He pointedly stated, edging his mushroom tip, already prepared to be suffocated once again, towards her entrance that clenched at his absence, which he cursed at, his harmless jabs tormenting him.

“I know.” She replied with nonchalance.

His frenzied breath fused with her own as she noted the pearlescent bead frothing at his red tip, eager but restraining from any further berating of her walls as Gojo’s prideful demeanour faltered once she reached beneath them, the pad of her thumb swiping the pre-arousal and coating his puffy lips with himself before planting her own against his; a self-invite to dissect his sensuality smothered across his mouth which propelled him into the realm of insanity.

“But you don’t really care about that crap, do you ‘Toru?” she coyly sneered, his merciless cockhead returning to accommodate past her homey folds and ploughing into her with unrelenting motions as her sore legs wrapped around him instantaneously.

“Say it again,” he groaned, expressing fidelity by complimenting her cunt’s heavenly suffocation and informing her its walls had been granted the divine purpose to be moulded solely for him as her hazy stare stirred with transient lust.

“Call me that again, Baby. Please.” He rephrased, his implore a delicate murmur, as her pussy fluttered at his exhort and his thrusts held less force as an opening for her to gratify his demand.

“Need you ‘Toru,” she softly surrendered, as did her eyes which temporarily shut, jaw hanging as he inched his cock in further as if he had been urging her to succumb to his wishes from the drive of his tip rather than his needy mouth.

His forehead hovered above hers as the frantic snaps from his hips vibrated off the thin walls of her cosy apartment littered with art equipment, another erotic composition of their lustrous rhapsody annexed with the previous symphonies, expanding the lingering collection permeating the crevices within her home.

“How’d y-you always pull this off, hm?” He croaked out as the simplistic sobriquet pummelled another bout of mania, her parted lips emitting endless moans, which he encouraged her to repeat, her grip tightening around his neck.

Her gummy walls were venerated as his salvation, the vocalisation carved beside her pulse point before confirming his devotion with a chaste kiss on the exact spot, once again slowing his hips to savour the intimacy of her being his midnight muse as his calloused digits successfully tilt her face towards his, the tip of his nose cascading against her own with delicacy.

Satoru was a fervent advocate for these particular moments, where she was sprawled out beneath him how he liked it – all. At the same time, he unveiled a vulnerability; only she’d been granted access to witness, and the exposure was inconsistent, but regardless, visited.

And though he was fully appeased with the aftermath every time, tonight he internally demanded more – for her to swivel her paintbrush between her dainty fingers purged with concoctions of jumbled shades and divide his toned chest that had been splashed with a romantic sheen of light rogue, in half – pry open his protective ribcage and enter the secluded area of his heart by dabbing the brush into the four chambers and utilise the scarlet gore as a primary base to invent shades only she would be able to formulate, or brush across her canvases with the carmine fluid when expressing the associations of passion or power, snap apart his bone marrow, to either lighten or darken the formula withdrawn from the captor of pumping blood and oxygen.

Her fingers trailed absentmindedly over his prominent collarbones before instinctively lifting themselves for him to bite on as a pacifier for his noises of pleasure. He sucked after nipping on them and twitched inside her from the gesture.

Meanwhile, his calloused palm laid flat on her neck, thumb pressed into the side as one finger at a time rested before his whole hand had itself enveloped around her throat.

“You’re so thoughtful, Sweetheart.” He mushed her flustered cheeks together, unceremoniously parting her lips, which unlocked the empty enclosure within her mouth.

Warm saliva safely trudged down and moistened her dry walls, hesitating to detach from her taste buds and drip into the onyx tunnel leading into the depths of her inner body. She gulped down the tiny sample with appreciation and lifted her hips from the grasp of her bed until Gojo’s tip prodded the specific spot aching to be met.

“F-fuckk ‘Toru,” she choked out, ankles carelessly caressing the sides of his back, which contrasted the relentless slapping of skin, its loudness continuing to reverb throughout her accommodation whilst her chest pressed against his as some pathetic escape of the climax they both enthused over, tender nipples pleasurably pained when squished against him.

“Come on, sweet girl, make a mess on me,” Gojo grunted as her hips deliberately bucked upwards to mirror his erratic pace.

Azure wells dilated by his stygian pupils, enlarged from an urgency to ravage her entirety, annihilation obscuring his sanity as the low but vehement mantra of his name tickled his ear canals. The longer their visions remained attached, the further she implored beyond his celestial lenses, empyrean domain summoning her presence – silvery lashes tickling his cheeks that cloaked pricked thorns beneath.

Satoru Gojo is a successful tempter, ensuring unexplainable delectation in exchange for indulging in the hedonistic pathway and disregarding the afterthoughts; the cadence of his verbalised signals he was exceedingly close disrupted when his lips pursued the pearl pendant settled into the pit between her collarbones, lightly suctioning the bead into his mouth, suckling on the sphere as he gritted the thin chain between his teeth when she etched linework into his taut back; metal satiating his wet appendage an aftertaste upon releasing the gleaming charm with a hiss.

“I’m, I’m gonna cum –” she attempted to alert him but was shushed by the sloppy merge of his mouth enticing her tongue into an intense tandem – his assurance she was not required to state such as her sexual tendencies represented such once her spine arched into his heated touch, his hand slipping beneath to ensure she remained flush against him whilst he rolled his hips with precision.

“That’s the spot, isn’t it Sweets?” He voiced in search for confirmation, already aware he had been hitting the exact area but attempting to remain smug during moments of rising action, the events consisting of urgency that shall culminate into the climax.

Despite his ability to converse with her, he melded his talkative cavern with her own, trembling breath and gravelly grunts unable to be concealed by his assured claims as both mouths collided in an untimely manner, canines lightly bumping against the others’ from the profound sensation.

“God, I love you, Fuck I love you, so-so-soo fuckin’ much,” he lowly managed to babble whilst heaving for leverage of a few spare molecules to inebriate his veins.

Obscene gasps suffused her bedroom, the pre-warnings of coming undone rapidly dividing the shared tension between the two. Finally, attaining the desired goal as they both subconsciously peeked down to survey her snug cunt, ravenous, swallowing every inch of him accordingly.

The sudden glimpse launched Gojo to bury himself as far as humanly possible, filthily stretching her further as he finalises tonight’s unity with his slender cock infiltrating her supple cervix with ivory evidence of debauchery, an overstimulated torrent provided by his combusted tip persuasion enough to be requited with an identical spillage of immorality webbed between her thighs and stringing to the patch of neatly kempt pubic hairs.

Several minutes passed.

Bleary sight silently observed her composed figure situated on her terrace bestowed with a few basic ornaments of greenery, nothing too out of character, before noting the graphic tee she’d decided on never returning. However, he never intended to retract the apparel from her care.

She stood facing his direction. Her head remained twisted over her shoulder, glare occupied by physical puffs of charcoal disrupting the navy scenery, pollution at an extreme due to risen citizens deluged with Japan’s work culture; multiple avenues and crossings swarmed with throngs of exploited employees.

Finally, he zoomed in on the cigarette nipped between her teeth, supported by the plump cushioning of her velvet lips.

The chalky stick perished to depressing graphite with every inhale, billowed leaden breath unhelpful to the climate crisis and titillating the back of her windpipe, tingling from the slight gnaw of spiteful tabaco, though accustomed to the muggy corruption acquire her senses.

Reticence appeared as a tradition between them, stillness somewhat comforting.

“You seem to enjoy staring…” she murmured loudly enough, harshly tapping away the clingy ash as his esteemed vision remained on her.

Gojo raked his hands over the sheets now blanketing his legs, printed duvets, ones he had grown accustomed to these past few months, more than his own, as he delayed his response. “I can’t help it. “.

Adoration swelled within him upon noting the evident curves of her breasts, an invocation into admiring his newly accomplished compilation of strategically aligned paints splashed to form a beautiful balance of an occurrence that he could relive comfortably; attentiveness rendered him from speaking further, a simple glance her way revelled in his artful techniques – her knotted tresses, slight limp, and splotched skeletal exterior to name a few.

“So you’ve said,” she sniggered with another puff of the cancerous stick.

Gojo shrugged, a sheepish grin presented, having realised he relayed his thoughts aloud.

“If I had a talented hand, I would paint you myself. Force you to stay put where you are now, right leg slightly crossed over the left, thighs unconsciously squeezing as you try to withhold my seed whilst you look to your left, cigarette hanging between your pretty lips – like always. “.

She chuckled, the envision of him attempting to realistically maneuverer colourants quite humorous although his world revolved around such.

Bidding the decayed tube farewell when carelessly tossed over the steel black railing, she sauntered over. She slid into the vacant space, the other side occupied by Gojo, who had yet to exhibit any indications of leaving, likely to stay until the duties of an heir to the well-renowned museum beckoned his return.

Ever so slightly, the curious tips of her dainty fingers shadowed over the turquoise strings riddled beneath his pale flesh; projected veins a deep blue comforting and somewhat semblance of domesticity she wished to experience whilst the muse faintly shuddered – which hadn’t gone unnoticed by her.

He hummed a naïve tune he had randomly produced before the placement of a cigarette into his mouth disrupted his creation, flame ignited by hers truly.

“It’s a shame this won’t ever expand past sex,” he cooed, barely tilting his head to see her as he shuffled, still sitting up against the headboard.

“We could have a kid, tell them about the story of how we met: a pessimist always uncertain of her future but too in love with her hobby to back out and a guy who just so happens to be involved in the world of art, trying to get her a big breakthrough – and even though they both had different outlooks, they managed to create a small ball of sunshine amidst it all. What do you think?”.

She entertained his imagination by resting against his chest but shook her head, treasuring how his hypnotic eyes lit up at the mention of their non-existent offspring.

“You should do that with somebody you love, Satoru.”.

“Right.” he shallowly inhaled, concluding the indulgent fume with a swift twist in the ashtray beside him. “Unfortunately, that won’t be you, Y/n.”.

She quirked her brow at his vocabulary selection. “‘Unfortunately’? Please,” she scoffed with a coy smile he matched.

“We both like the attention. There’s no love between us; this just fills the void.”.

Gojo turned to her with curiosity.

“If I did love you, would you love me back?” He queried seriousness, which was a stark contrast to his general vibe.

She studied his alluring mouth tainted with her imperfections, his own printed against her physique for any to view.

“Probably.” She muttered.

#icymi #in case you missed it #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #gojo smut #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader

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