I Wanted To Hop On :p

gojo’s undercut if you can hear me

mmmm

GOJO AND FACESITTING PLEASE 🙏🙏

ⵌ — bring it over here .ᐟ

˖ ࣪ ٬ satoru gojo x reader

<16 & ageless blogs dni

contents Ⳋ facesitting, dirty talk, gojo is so tantalizing, praise, sub!reader , dom!gojo, he’s a lil full of himself (but who wouldn’t be), premature ejaculation

a/n : back on my writing grind :3 thankx for requesting this liv, wanted to write for gojo for some time now !!! i love him RAHHH i need him so bad, not proof read cus im lazy

word count: 1.1k

“don’t you jus’ love being mine?”

you and your boyfriend gojo were relaxing on your shared bed; propped up against the headboard and engaging in random conversation. the tv was buzzing in the background, the faint illumination of it being the only source of light. you deadpan at his comment. “huh?” you smirk slightly, looking over at him, “what d’you mean?”

“oh, y’know,” he starts, leaning his head against yours and squeezing you close against his side with a small ‘oomf’ at the sudden impact from you, “not everyone gets a taste of the strongest. it comes with some perks! i mean, wouldn’t you agree?” he nudges you, playfulness evident in his features.

you decide to endulge in his banter, and you turn so you’re able to look at him properly. “yeah? what ‘perks’ are you referring to?” you ask with air quotations, and a mischievous glint sparks in his blue irises. “for starters,” he maneuvers you so he can sit behind you, his hands sprawling on your stomach as he inhales your sweet scent, “protection, for one.”

“i know everyone’s always after me, but they’ll never dare to touch you. they know what will happen either way.” he says with a nonchalant shrug and you snicker. “i suppose you’re right about that,” you nudge, “what else?”

he smiles, moving his head down to nip at the skin of your neck. “well, there’s the matter of pleasure,” he emphasizes, and you tilt your head with a playful roll of your eyes to give him more access to your neck. you can’t deny it, though; there’s no doubt that he makes you feel the best you’ve ever had, both intimately and domestically.

“sounds appealing,” you joke, and nip the plush of your bottom lip at the feeling of his lips traveling along the sensitive area. he chuckles, and you can feel it rumble deep within his chest from behind you. he bites down on your shoulder playfully. “oh, but you haven’t even heard the best part yet,” he pulled you close so your back his flush against his and you feel him smirk against your skin.

“the best part of being mine is i love spoiling you.” you let out a small laugh; it’s true, he really did spoil you. you sigh, leaning your head against his cheek. “yeah, trust me i know. i think you spoil me a little too much.”

he moves his hands to rest on your waist and he squeezes. “too much? nah, no such thing of too much when it comes t’you, sweetheart.” he nuzzles his face into your neck. “i like takin’ care of you, y’deserve it.” you sigh, slumping against him with a soft smile. “you’re cute, but it only makes me want to repay you.”

he shakes his head, wrapping his arms around your middle as he firmly holds you. “there’s no need. seein’ you happy and taken care of is my repayment.” his voice is laced with genuine affection; you know he means it.

“but . . . if you insist on repaying me, i can think of somethin’ you can do for me.”

and that’s how you ended up hovering over his face hesitantly, your hands gripping onto the headboard as his hands rested on your thighs. you’re dripping; your essence dropping onto his lips which only makes him more impatient. “cmon, baby. sit that pretty lil’ pussy on me. gonna make you feel good, promise. you wanted to repay me, right? sit.”

you swallow thickly, looking down at him hesitantly. “but— what if i hurt you? like, what if you can’t breathe?” he laughs at your nervousness and pats your leg in reassurance. “trust me, sweet girl. you’re not gonna hurt me, ‘nd i’ll breathe. you can do it, cmon.”

you sigh, reluctantly sitting on his face. you don’t sit all the way; but that’s not enough. he pulls your thighs and makes you sit fully and he wastes no time digging in to his favorite meal — you.

his tongue dives deep into your slit, his nose rubbing against your clit with fervor. you let out a sharp moan at the sudden pleasure and your hands grip impossibly tight around the headboard. “oh— oh fuck, ‘toru,” you cry, one of your hands flying down to grip at his hair.

he groans as pries his eyes open to look up at you with half-lidded eyes, humming the occasional ‘mhm’ against your folds; the vibrations going straight to your core.

your lips are parted with each gasp and you look down at him with the flushed embarrassment on your face. you feel him smirk against you — dick.

“y’feelin’ good, baby? i am, y’taste so good, so sweet.” you whine and your fingers tangle in his white locs. “yeahh, grip my hair, baby. fuck back on my tongue, cmon.” he pats your ass encouragingly and your hips begin to rock against his lips.

he welcomes it, the lewd squelch of your juices only serves as a further reminder of how good you feel. you feel fucked dumb already — the slurping sounds the only thing keeping you grounded. he moans himself, his hips shifting slightly to make himself more comfortable with the twitching boner in his boxers.

you can feel your orgasm building up within you, your hips stuttering. he reaches his hands up to wrap around the underside of your thighs and rocks you for you, the stimulation being too much. “toru,” you whimper, “‘s too much, ‘m gonna cum.”

he smiles against you and flicks his tongue over your pearl. “yeah? i got you, baby. cum all over this tongue, ‘s gonna feel so good,” he encourages, and it works.

your orgasm hits you without warning, and you go quiet for a moment in a silent scream as you finally let out a loud moan, your legs shaking beside either side of his head as your back arches and you try to sit up from his mouth. he shakes his head, prolonging your release as long as he can, drinking every splash of essence that leaked out of you.

he finally releases his grip on your thighs and you hover over him with gasps and pants. “such a good girl,” he compliments, “felt good, huh? i told you. you were so sweet, angel.” he smiles up at you. you swing your leg back over him so now you’re laying on your back next to him as you caught your breath and he turns to wrap an arm around your waist. you notice that he’s a little breathless himself.

“did so good,” he kisses your temple, and you melt into him. you blink open your eyes. “what about you, toru?” you ask, and he smiles. “don’t worry about that,” he waves off, and you sit up to glance down at his boxers. you take note with wide eyes at the wet patch on it tinged with white. you look over at him, eyeing the lazy smirk on his lips.

“heh, told you it’d repay me.”

© marimisses on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

somethings purring… oh wait

My fallopian tubes are tingling

Artist: thatsallitchief on IG

hey! are you aware you posted a scam? here is a list of some current scam accounts to watch out for and familiarize yourself with! please be aware most of them will be deactivated soon

atomiccollectorrladdy, myllamatraveler, sumacys-blog, technicallycrispycloud, shanzah, ladiydee, fullkidtiger, massivecolorlove, leilahrajah, uniquemoonpirate, smwitah1, agneskebwaroo, devotedlypaledelusion, paledonuttacok, sisngh, and scentedfarttree

oh shit tysm for lmk !! ^^^^

I love him

I'm so upset that people started hating him

got my period way early am i cooked

oh my god oh my hofobnmygoddmnndb

oldie

mahito likers DNI

“Have you ever wondered where we’ll get married?”

Your question comes out of nowhere—not much catches Sukuna off guard, but this question manages to make him pause. His eyes don’t leave the screen of his phone, thumb swiping along as he sits beside you. You drag a finger along his tattooed arm, grinning as he clicks his teeth.

“Who said I want to marry you?” He grunts.

You smile wider. It’s a knowing, amused little thing that stretches over the contours of your face like you know better. (You do. Sukuna is better at lying than telling the truth, but you’re even better at picking apart every little fib for the honesty he doesn’t want you to know. You wonder if he realizes that.)

“Who else would you marry?” You snort, “that girl from the convenience store? She has the hots for you, y’know.”

You nudge him with your shoulder, biting back a laugh when his lips curl into an almost irritated sneer as he scoffs. “She’s ugly.”

“Harsh,” you pretend to wince in sympathy, “then the waitress at that cafe? Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed her eye your tattoos.”

“Too fuckin’ whiny. Her voice makes my eardrums bleed.”

You can count on one hand the number of people Sukuna tolerates—and yes, it’s important to note that he tolerates people. He doesn’t really like anyone. He likes you, though. You’re a little confident about that because when your fingers slip under his shirt to glide against his bare chest, he lets you. He leans into it, too.

It’s because he likes you.

“Oh!” You gasp, snapping your finger like you’ve just thought of the perfect idea, “that girl from the bakery? She gives you free stuff all the time. I love it when I get to eat free bread, don’t you?”

“No. She’s a pushover. It’s pathetic.”

“We’ll never get you a wife at this rate,” you sigh dramatically, shaking your head. You look almost—almost—saddened by the idea. And then you perk up, “what about we search for a husband for me, instead? How about that guy from—”

“What the fuck are you on about?” He turns his head to glare at you. He’s annoyed—you can tell because his eyes are narrowed and his jaw is clenched. You can also tell because his heart is beating under your hand. One thump after the other. Faster, faster.

“Well I have to find someone if you won’t do it,” you pout. “I want a wedding in Okinawa. Know any guys who don’t mind getting married in Okinawa?”

“No,” he growls. His heart is still beating. Faster, faster.

“Then I’m doomed,” you collapse against the couch, theatrically draping an arm over your face as you woefully add, “my big fat Okinawa wedding dreams broken. What ever—”

“Enough,” he hisses. He grabs your hand, inspects the fingers for a moment before casually tossing it back onto your lap as he mumbles, “you can have your stupid wedding if it shuts you up. And don’t talk to that guy ever again.”

And then he’s back to scrolling through his phone, thumb gliding across the screen as you curl into his side with a satisfied grin. Sukuna doesn’t like anyone. He could make a list of all the reasons why.

It all boils down to the fact that none of them are you.

“Perfect,” you say excitedly, “we’ll get married in Okinawa, then. Here are the rings I had in mind—pay attention, okay?”

sometimes you just have to gaslight your feral bf into marriage, you know?