₊˚⊹。take my time (i’ll spend it all on you) | gojo satoru
wc: 1.6k
summary: gojo sees you in lingerie for the first time.
contains: f!reader, suggestive almost nsfw (they make out… maybe a bit steamy), 18+ just in case, reader is in lingerie, shy feelings!! gojo down bad!!
a/n: i hc that the first time gojo sees you in lingerie, it’s like seeing you walk down the aisle—he’s a bit sappy like that! i also think that he’d love seeing his lover in pink! idk! it’s just the vibes! (col reader would look cute in pink too i think hehe complements the personality!); takes place later on, around col #4 (wip)
collection masterlist: conversations on love
3.5b. —will i ever bring you peace? <- you are here -> +04b (extra). if you're ready (let me) + 04. these traces of love, they outline you
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
There are few things in life that have earned Gojo’s double take:
A sign for a newly-opened gelato shop with ‘exclusive flavors for the first 30 customers!’ written in fine print; Megumi, back in middle school, being confessed to with a sweetly handcrafted box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day; a small cut, right at the tip of his nose from that time you sparred with him and he let you get too close (or so he says).
And now you.
In something pink—
—that if he backtracks just a bit, steps one foot behind the other to glance again at the space left open by the bedroom door, and squints—
He’s certain, 200% sure.
It’s lingerie.
He blinks once, twice, rubs at his eyes even as his mind attempts to catch up to whatever it is–you–he just saw. This must be what wires feel when they short circuit.
You know he’s home, right? You have to, you just told him to rinse the dishes after snacking.
And he was in the middle of doing that—walking across your apartment from couch to kitchen, stopping only to do a double take at the sight of pink in his periphery, at you, once he looked again, clearly.
Or were you doing this on purpose? Did you want him to see you?
He gulps, warmth spreading from the tips of his ears down to his neck, lingering.
There’s only one way to find out, really.
He walks down the hallway leading to the bedroom, keeping his footsteps light so as to not startle you.
If he’s being honest right now, his mind is full to the point of feeling empty—too many thoughts swirling around the fact that behind this very door, he’s about to find you in pink lingerie.
And when he takes a deep breath, fingertips pushing on wood very slightly as he calls out, “Bab—“
“S’toru!” you squeal from the other side, panicked as you instantly push it back closed.
So you didn’t do it on purpose.
“Sorry, give me a minute!” you call out, and he can hear your footsteps from the other side, frantically walking around for what he can assume is you looking for something to cover yourself with.
But he doesn’t want that.
Not when he already has the visual of you, pretty in what he suspects is pink lace.
Not when the way you said ‘S’toru’ sounded so much like ‘‘Toru’, your ‘‘Toru’, the way you usually say it pressed against bed sheets, under him, expression blissed out from—
Do you have any idea what that does to him?
“Are you wearing lingerie?”
You freeze. Gojo can tell from the other side of the door, and you think, damn it, because he isn’t supposed to know you bought a set, much less see you in it. Not yet.
You could try to lie, but Gojo always sees through you, through every change in inflection, the way your eyebrow twitches before speaking.
“Can I come in?” he asks softly, almost hesitantly.
How can you possibly resist him when he speaks to you like this? Asking permission as if this space you live in isn’t as much his?
You sigh, flustered at being caught this way, “Can you close your eyes first?”
He follows, laying one hand over his eyes for good measure before knocking on the door. You open it slowly, wood creaking as he steps inside.
You feel a little naked right now despite how he isn’t even looking your way, opting to face the side opposite from where you’re standing. It’s on purpose, you know, he can tell where you are—Six Eyes and all.
There’s a smile that he’s hiding, biting his lower lip to stop it from showing. His toes are wiggling from the excitement coursing through him.
You know Gojo will like you in anything; in fact, he’s made it very clear that he prefers you in nothing—but still. Your stomach feels queasy and you can’t get rid of how nervous you’re feeling.
And you guess, it’s really just because this was meant to be a surprise for him—the design you’ve chosen, how it looks on your body, how it looks to him, especially. You’d ordered the lingerie set months in advance to leave a lot of time for returns, whether it turned out ill-fitting or just unflattering.
You didn’t expect him to catch a glimpse of it now, months before his birthday, before you were even ready.
“I’m waiting…” he teases, voice sing-song in that way he usually does to annoy you. It always makes you smile though, and it’s an odd form of comforting with how it dulls your jitters right now, just a little bit.
“Okay, you can look.”
As soon as he turns, you squeeze your eyes shut, hands on your sides as you fiddle with your fingernails. Seeing, knowing his reaction in real time is still nervewracking, regardless of every reassurance you tell yourself—because, what if this is the off-chance that you’re wrong, and he doesn’t like it?
Or worse: what if he has to pretend he likes it?
You frown a bit—it doesn’t help at all that Gojo isn’t saying anything.
But—
How can he, when there are no words, no adjectives, no possible descriptions to articulate what he’s seeing—what he’s feeling?
If he didn’t die then, in every instance he’s brushed with death: by Toji’s hands, locked up inside that box, in that final moment with Sukuna, nearly halved—
He thinks he might have just died right now.
Because this? You? In lingerie as pink as all he’s feeling—his cheeks, his nose, flushing down his neck, maybe even his chest if it were exposed.
It’s heaven.
You’re a sight.
While Gojo has certainly seen you in much less, and done with you things much more than just stand with you like this, he’s never seen you in lingerie.
And you’re so pretty. Sexy. All his, he can’t believe it.
He’s noticing all the little details on it–on you–its shade, almost salmon with a bit of baby pink; its material: sheer net as the base for everything—it’s practically see-through save for the delicate floral lace running across the bra cups and panty front.
The set itself is nice, sure, but he knows he only likes it this much because it’s on you. And he knows he’ll always like anything on you.
The heat in his stomach is building, spreading, to the single part of him that—
“Is it that bad?” you scrunch your nose, eyes still closed. He looks at you confused, before he realizes: he hasn’t said anything.
He chuckles and you open your eyes, pouting.
And God, he wishes you didn’t do that. That look on your face—what it does to him.
“I ordered it in advance for your birthday,” you start, pout deepening as you ramble on, “it was supposed to be a surprise, but if you don’t like it, I can still–”
That’s enough.
He can’t believe that you actually think he doesn’t like it.
Gojo steps into your space, close enough to grab you by the waist as his other hand reaches up to slot itself in the area between your ear and your jawline, tilting your head up slightly as he leans in to kiss you.
It’s rushed at first, almost desperate—hungry, the way he releases his breath only to take you in; your lips, soft in the way he knows them to be, his hand on your waist squeezing. Your fingertips trail to his cheek, almost cupping as his kisses turn deeper, more languid, lips moving against yours slowly, savoring.
Gojo is a fast learner, and he shows it best in the way he kisses you, as if he’s memorized every way to build that familiar heat within you. You lay your other hand against his chest, gripping at the fabric of his t-shirt as he pulls you closer.
You bite his lip and suck, just a little bit, the way he likes it, and he moans, lowly, vibrations rippling through your mouth as he holds you steady. He’s hard already; you can feel it pressing against your lower belly.
And you realize, as a small laugh tears itself away from you, how ridiculous it was for you to even worry.
You break the kiss, leaning your forehead against his as you keep your noses touching. It’s impossible to tell how Gojo looks, but you have a hunch with how he’s breathing so heavily; the skies in his eyes must be darker, almost gray, turned on by desire—the same one settling deep in your stomach, aching, needy.
“It’s perfect,” he whispers, lips grazing yours. He traces hearts by your shoulder, something born out of the many times you’ve lain in bed together, playing with the strap of your bra before pulling, a short snap! as he lets go.
“You like it?” you whisper back, a lilt in your tone, teasing. Your fingers come up to trace his lips and he holds them in place, nipping.
“Mhm,” he grins, smoothing his hand over the lace details on your bra, his thumb rubbing, “so pretty.”
He leans in again, a small peck, before asking, “Does this mean I can get my gift now?”
You laugh, hitting his chest, “It’s not your birthday yet!”
“Yeah, but what is time anyway?”
And you know, with the way he’s trailing kisses down your neck, licking and sucking—you’re going to have to find another thing to surprise him with on his birthday.
.
Later that evening, with your head lying right on his chest, you remember.
“Oh yeah, the set also came with one of those belt things. Garter, I think? But I wasn’t sure if you’d be into–”
You’ve never seen Gojo get up from bed faster.
thank you notes: for that anon that asked about whether col reader wears lingerie! + @stellamancer @soumies @crysugu for validating me that pink is in fact col reader's colour ᰔ i also just luv u guys 🥺
comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡
8K notes
·
View notes
idk if you write for more than one character at a time, but can i please request the male hashira x gn reader headcanons for when their crush sits on their lap? mostly fluff maybe slight spice? thanks
when you sit on their lap hcs
Pairing(s): male hashira x gn!reader (except muichiro)
CW: sfw, slightly suggestive, gn!reader, lap sitting, very suggestive on tengen’s part, slight mention of thigh riding and grinding
A/N: again, I am so sorry this took awhile because I was on vacation I will be working on what’s in my inbox now <33
Gyomei is weirdly calm about it
Probably because he’s blind or cause he doesn’t have a hard time keeping his composure
He’ll adjust himself so you have a more comfortable position to sit in
Keeps his arms wrapped around your waist or torso to help you balance on his thigh or wherever you’re sitting down
Rests his chin onto your head occasionally
Sometimes forgets to tell you to get off, and you guys just remain in that position for a long time just talking like normal
Another hashira would have to see you two and point it out in order for you to finally get off
Gyomei would apologize if necessary and let you off calmly
“Y/N, I enjoy you sitting on me, we should have more conversations like this.”
Sanemi on the other hand is a little more aggressive…
When you sit down on his lap, he’s completely flustered, his face bright red and hot
He’d yell at you to get off, even though he made no effort to get you off
We know you enjoy it Sanemi it’s okay
If you got off, he’d growl under his breath and try to scoot himself closer to you until you sat back on him
If you stay on his lap, he averts his eyes from yours, and grits his teeth while blushing furiously
After some time of awkward silence of him holding your waist and you cuddling him in his lap, a thread basically snaps inside him, and he pulls you close to him, burying his face into your neck
Sanemi would plant your hips down using his bare hands, and press his teeth to your neck, making sure there’s no space between the two of you
“You got me all hot and bothered, Y/N. Now take responsibility you damn brat.”
Rengoku would have a fairly normal, but excited reaction
He would laugh loudly and hug you tightly, smiling up/down at you as you’re situated on his lap
He allow you to rest your head onto his shoulder in a loving manner
Bro literally can’t stop smiling the whole time you’re on his lap
You two just sit there in a joyful manner, hugging each other tightly while laughing and smiling casually
Rengoku definitely holds onto you as tight as he can after atleast 10 minutes of cuddling
He just can’t get enough, you’re too cute
Probably also presses an overwhelming amount of kisses to your cheek every 20-30 seconds
You can literally feel him smiling against your skin as he kisses you
“Y/N! We shall do this again after our next mission!”
Tengen is definitely the most suggestive and flirtatious with this
As soon as you take a seat on his thigh, he smirks and pulls you into him without hesitation
His arms are locked around your waist as he leans into you with a depraved expression
Constant teasing while you’re on him, no doubt about it
Like, he kisses you everywhere accessible, and grips your waist tighter
When you’re on his thigh, he moves his thigh up and down a little, and helps move your waist back and forth against him
Basically allows you to grind on him if you’re okay with it
Teases you by leaning back and placing his arms to rest against a nearby surface as you keep your movements against him up
“Come on Y/N, don’t keep me waiting.”
Giyuu is quite calm and unfazed when you sit on his lap, similar to Gyomei
He just sits back, and occasionally rests his hands onto your waist or shoulders
Poor guy hasn’t had much affection, and is hella disliked so he just stays quiet the whole time
But, he does hold you tightly. It may not be something huge, but you can feel his affection and love in his embrace
Rests his head onto your shoulder
His breathing is calm and slow against your skin as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, with his chin situated between your shoulder and collarbone.
If you try to get up, he’ll let you, but not before asking you to hold him a bit longer
Maybe, just maybe, he’ll smile against you if he feels comfortable with your body pressed against his on his lap
“Y/N…I love you. Don’t leave me, please.”
Obanai remains silent, but it’s no secret that he’s flustered.
He looks away bashfully and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to avoid eye contact with you since it’s too embarrassing for him
He sighs heavily, trying to maintain his composure with you literally seated on his lap
His face is tinted a bright red, not even his bandaged mouth can hide the heavy blush dusting his cheeks
When you look over, you can literally see Kaburamaru giving Obanai a “you’re a fucking pussy” type stare
I guess that causes him to finally look at you and make eye contact
When he does gain some sort of confidence, he rests his hands onto your shoulders, and eventually wraps his arms around your torso, pulling you closer
He pulls you a little too close- putting you chest to chest with him, and his arms locked around you tightly and squeezing you
If you point out the fact that he’s hugging you too tight, he’ll get embarrassed and quietly apologize, before loosening his grip around you
Just let the man hug you and tough it out okay
“I- Y/N…I’m at a loss for words..?”
A/N: hehheehhe did y’all miss me I’m back <3
I’ll come clean and admit- although I came back recently, I have been writing shit for myself the past week or so?
OKAY DONT BLAME ME I NEED TO THERE ARE NO GOOD FANFICS THAT ARE WELL WRITTEN OR HAVE ANY EMOTION I NEEDA TAKE MATTERS IJTO MY OWN HANDS LMFAOAOS 😭
8K notes
·
View notes
whiny and spoiled
in which reader is being a brat but spencer just can't help himself from taking off her clothes and going down on her anyway!
18+ (smut)
warnings/tags: MUNCH!SPENCE (aka canon compliant!) oral fem receiving (duh lol) reader referred to as a girl, bratty reader, idk if this is soft dom spencer or if this is just pure unadulterated munch spencer who will eat pussy at the drop of a hat, overstimulation kinda, sexy and hot, will make u bust
a/n: requests are tentatively open in that i may not complete them but i will surely consider them!! thank you guys for all the positive feedback, it's so motivating and i love that you seem to like my stuff so much! please lmk if you like this and what you'd like to see more of in the future! so many ideas and WIPs
You’re lounging on Spencer’s bed when he gets home, fiddling with one of his Rubik’s cubes and kicking your feet in the air absent-mindedly.
You look up as he opens the bedroom door and gestures for you to remove your headphones, looking a little bemused at the scene in front of him.
“How was work?” you ask, eyes tracking him as he shrugs off his bag and comes to kiss you in greeting.
“It was fine,” he dismisses, hands braced on the mattress as he leans over you, looking you up and down. “Why are you wearing boots in bed?”
“Because I didn’t feel like dealing with the laces.”
“Take them off, please. You have no idea how much bacteria and filth you’re introducing to the place I sleep.”
“Probably no more than I do with my hands,” you shrug, shaking the Rubiks cube in his face for added emphasis. He plucks it from your hand and sets it on the bedside table.
“I’m asking politely,” Spencer says, raising his eyebrows slightly and standing up straight, probably wondering if this is the thing you’re going to push him on tonight. You chew your lip, cocking your head as you regard him.
“I want to keep them on. They’re my good luck charm. People leave the scary girl wearing the stompy boots alone.”
He circles to the foot of the bed.
“Are you saying you want to scare me away?”
“No. But I don’t need the boots to scare you,” you tease.
You squeal when he grabs your ankles and pulls you down the bed, beginning to unlace one of your shoes.
“Do these actually intimidate people?” he asks absent-mindedly, focused on loosening the laces.
“I mean... I don’t know. Maybe some people,” you splutter after a moment, slightly flustered.
“Hm. I guess I don’t find you all that scary to begin with,” Spencer admits, tugging the first boot off and tossing it to the ground before getting to work on the second one.
“Shut up. I’m totally scary.”
But you’re losing your steel as he looks down at you, eyes raking over your body. There is a hungry sort of sparkle in his eyes now—one that has become familiar and sends a thrill through you.
“Maybe to people who don’t know you very well.”
Your eyes narrow.
“Don’t patronize me.”
The second boot is removed and joins the other on the floor. His hands begin running up and down the front of your legs. You shiver.
“I’m not patronizing you, honey. I’m just being honest.” The movement of his hands ceases as he seems to consider something. “Do you want me to be scared of you?”
You swallow, eyes darting over his face and looming frame, wishing he would keep touching you.
“No,” you find yourself saying. “But fear is respect. Everybody likes being respected.”
“I don’t know if I agree that fear and respect are the same,” he muses, smiling ever so slightly, “but I respect you very much.” He resumes moving his hands, higher this time, over your thighs and under your skirt. “I just can’t imagine such a sweet girl being perceived as intimidating.”
“I am not sweet,” you mutter, distracted by the way his hands skim so lightly over your skin—flipping your skirt over your stomach.
“Right. You’re terrifying,” he amends gently, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your tights. “Up.” You lift your hips, allowing him to tug the sheer fabric down your legs and carefully off your feet. “The pink underwear are really scary,” he teases, snapping the fabric against your hip.
“Shut up,” you repeat breathlessly, face heating. “You’re the one that got them for me.”
“I did, didn’t I? They look good on you.” Finally, he looks up from the pink lace to your eyes. “Can I take them off?”
“You don’t always have to ask, you know,” you breathe. Sometimes, the answer is obvious enough.
“I like hearing you say yes.”
You flush, because what he really means is that he likes when you get desperate.
“Yes, you can take them off.”
A smile flickers over his face as he slides the underwear down and off, making sure to take his sweet time. Every brush of his thumb on your calf, every delicate pass over your ankle gives you anticipatory chills.
“Before I’m dead?” you ask, slightly strained. He tsks, tossing them on the bed.
“Someone should do something about that attitude of yours.”
“My attitude is your fault.”
“Because I like giving you what you want? Sue me.”
“Spencer,” you grit.
He slings your ankles over his shoulders.
“See? You’re not scary. You’re just whiny and spoiled.”
And before you can defend yourself, or at least make a sufficiently withering reply, he’s leaning down, licking a broad stripe between your legs that for once renders you speechless. Any comment on the tip of your tongue dies as the tip of his becomes all you can think about, melting into a content moan while you rake your fingers through his hair. He sucks lightly on your clit until you’re rolling your hips and then he releases, moving to press kisses to your inner thighs. “Are you going to be nice now?”
“Mhm,” you promise, wanting only for him to keep pleasuring you in that mind-numbing way of his.
“Are you just saying that?”
Another kiss.
“No! Mean it,” you whimper.
“Good girl,” he says, rubbing your outer thigh.
The next kiss is planted on your clit, before he’s taking it into his mouth again and leaving you a whiny mess. You throw your head back and your eyes flutter shut, melting into the bed and not bothering to hold back your sounds.
“Fuck.” Your voice is small, a gasp as he begins to flick his tongue over the bud, each brush against the sensitive spot making your hips stutter. He rubs your leg soothingly but doesn’t let up—you look back down to watch as best you can through your hazy, half-lidded eyes. “I love you,” you murmur.
He laughs against you and the vibrations only make you feel higher, whining and bucking slightly when he begins to lap at your slick entrance—kitten licks so light they’re torturous.
Spencer obviously has a goal in mind; there’s no hesitation and the teasing is minimal. He just wants to make you feel good. And it’s working. The man eats pussy like he’s in love with it.
His name is rolling off your tongue when he kicks into full gear, firm, fast circles around your clit that make you dizzy and hot.
“Oh, my god—” you cut yourself off with a languid, shameless moan, rolling your head to the side but keeping your eyes glued on him. He groans in approval as your hands card through his hair, moving one hand to slide affectionately up and down your stomach as the muscles there tense and flex.
“Fucking obscene,” he mutters, pausing for another filthy, wet kiss to your cunt. “Taste so good, angel girl.”
“Mm... wanna cum,” you beg, rolling your hips and hoping he’ll get the message.
“You will.” Spencer takes a long, luxurious lick as if to prove his point, pulling a desperate mewl from your parted lips. “Because you always get exactly what you want, don't you?”
“Mhm,” you agree, eyes screwing shut, but the reply quickly devolves into a stream of little ah’s that are so sweet Spencer has trouble reconciling their sanctity with their pornographic nature. And the way you unconsciously, innocently begin to pull him closer, trying to press yourself further into his mouth—well, it’s like he said; fucking obscene.
Sometimes Spencer likes to tease you at this point, to pull away and say sweet and dirty things that always bring forth your most adorable, embarrassed, desperate whimpers. But you taste so good, and you are whiny and spoiled, and you make such pretty noises when you’re all soft and needy like this and he can’t bear to pull away. Not when you deserve to cum. And it’s thoughts like these that are the reason you’re a spoiled princess, he muses peripherally. Because he’s fucking whipped for you.
“That’s so good,” you exhale, “just like that, please—fuck!”
He knows you’re going to cum, and there are many things he could do, many things he could say to fuck you over for his own enjoyment, but now he wants more than just about anything he’s ever wanted to work you apart and taste you cumming on his tongue. So he keeps running a reassuring hand over your stomach, trying to remind you to breathe as you approach your peak.
You finish, a slow wave of ecstasy washing over you, chanting his name as your hips sporadically roll and stutter into his face, and he’s making out with your soaked, messy pussy in a way that would never lead one to believe he’s ever been shy or squeamish or hesitant in any way.
“Spencer,” you yelp, incandescent warmth radiating in soft waves from your core and slowing your movements as your hips twitch in an attempt to escape the continual onslaught of his mouth.
“You can take it for a minute, honey,”
A defeated, half-pleasure half-pain whine lets him know he’s won as he continues to kiss your throbbing cunt, but soon small, weak moans are slipping unbidden past the barrier of your lips. You realize he’s going to make you cum again and there’s nothing you can do about it but tighten your hold in his hair, groan, and ride his tongue as he eats you for all that you’re worth.
The second orgasm is softer, blurrier, and equally perfect as the first. It threatens the already tenuous hold you have on your consciousness, strand after strand snapping until you’re barely hanging on.
“Spencer,” you repeat, slurring as you try to shut your legs. “Please, can’t, baby.”
“You could,” he says, sitting up and closing your useless legs for you, massaging the weak muscles. “You’ve done more.”
“Mm-mm,” you disagree, chest rising and falling as your breathing slows. “Don’t wanna.”
“That’s okay, angel. I’m not gonna force you.”
You sigh, obviously satisfied. “That felt really good.”
“I bet it did,” he chuckles, finally moving to lay down next to you. Immediately you curl up to him, and he smooths your skirt back down before tracing soothing patterns on the leg you’ve slung over him. “You’re so cute.”
“Don’t go spreading it around.”
“Never,” he promises, mocking but in good nature. The two of you lay in comfortable silence for a few moments, as you consider his decidedly unsatisfying answer.
“You’re not even a little scared of me?”
He smoothes your hair away from your eyes.
“No, honey, I’m not. But I’m sure other people find you utterly terrifying.”
You open your eyes to regard him ruefully, before they narrow again.
“You have a little something...” you begin, gesturing to your mouth. He snorts.
“Oh, do I?”
4K notes
·
View notes