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prettyboykatsuki · 8 months

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warm-ups | gojo + nsfw + inspection

✮ tags ; afab + gn!reader (they are wearing a skirt / panties) but no gendered language, established relationship / power imbalance (they're dating but gojo is their superior) , teasing, humiliation, pussy inspection, praise, petnames (sweet thing, baby), fingering + penetration, creampies 18+

✮ wc ; 1.9k

✮ a/n ; i swear on my entire fucking life i did not rig this one at all KJSDF. the wheels just decided i promise this on my life.

idk if the writing reflects what i experienced trying to write this but . good fucking lord. good lord.

"Let me see,"

Embarrassing. Humiliation is making your face burn hot as Gojo stares at you. He's smiling, of course he is - a lazy grin, head tilted slightly to one side. His teeth peek out, sharp incisors and even sharper canines like a light in the dim light of an empty classroom.

"Satoru," You reason, hands fidgeting on the hem of your skirt with a sigh "We're in the—"

"I want to see," He's not asking, so much as telling. Your heart races. You squirm. Earlier, when he called and asked for you to wear something cute - you thought it'd be some of his typical flirting. You decided to appease him. Not particularly hoping he would make any advances on you. It wasn't something you thought to justify to yourself.

It struck you as odd when he asked about it. The husk of his voice as he leaned in behind you and told you good before waltzing off back to his lesson. The whole day he'd done nothing else out of ordinary. Made his usual jokes and stupid, unserious flirtatious advances.

And then you were alone. The building is empty, and you're supposed to be planning practical lessons for the first years. Gojo cornered you here and sat with you in silence for a little while, eyes following your curves and edges before stopping to look at you.

He wanted to see what you wore. But it wasn't like usual. Something was different, obviously - he'd been thinking about something else and like usual opted not to tell you about it. You're sure he won't even if you ask.

It's a trustfall with him - always testing you to see if you'll give him blind faith. You think he likes seeing you flounder more than he's concerned about your loyalty.

You can't get a read on him.

"You're really—"

"Let me see," He says again, not as playful. You swallow thick. It's your fault for indulging him so much "I want to know what you picked."

You go to take it off and Gojo shakes his head.

"Flip your skirt up,"

"You can't be serious."

He looks at you. Reprimanding. He's very serious. You swallow around something in your throat again, turning your head. Focusing your attention on anything else. The open window that gives view to the darkness outside. If anyone came right now they'd see this. You decide to close your eyes after all.

Wordlessly, you grab the end of your skirt and flip it up. Holding the material just over your thighs - to give visibility to the sheer, delicate material underneath. A brief silence is followed with echoey footsteps. Intentional. He's letting his weight hit the ground each time he does it.

You know he stops when you feel him looming over you. Before you can get a worse in edge-wise, he drops down. Squats until his face is at level with your pussy.

But he doesn't touch you. You can feel his breath distantly, and you're too afraid to look. But he's careful not to touch you. When you do feel his hand, it's brushing against your ankle. Fingers playing with the frill of your socks.

"Spread your legs a little."

"But—"

The air changes. You clip your mouth shut and listen, sneakers squeaking along the tile as you spread yourself. Standing at shoulder width, making yourself more clear to view.

"Good," He says, like it needs no explanation "I like when you listen to me."

You don't reply. You just sit, and wait - heart hammering so hard against your chest like you've run a mile.

You count the seconds but the numbers feel muddled after you count up to three hundred. A little over five minutes before he moves again. He touches the palm of his hand against your knee, planing them up the tops of your thigh. A barely there movement. Goosebumps cover every single inch of you. He hums, arbitrarily running his fingers along your inner thigh but never quite committing.

You're almost too afraid to move. Not that he'd do anything bad. But you have no idea what he's doing in the first place. It's starting to make you sweat.

"These are pretty," He says, conversationally running his finger along the top seam where the bows are. Still not touching "They new?"

"U-uhm," Your fingers tighten around your skirt "Yes?"

"Mm," He tugs the waistband, letting it snap against your skin lightly "Were you thinking of me?"

"I thought you'd like them."

"I do. I like when you think of me."

You shudder.

"Were you thinking anything of it when you put them on this morning?"

"No," You answer truthfully.

"Really?" He answers back, genuine "Even in the afternoon,"

"I just wasn't thinking,"

"What a shame," He replies, soft and gentle. He runs fingers against the place where you thighs meet your legs. Still no direct touching. You feel yourself starting to get wet around where he isn't. "I was thinking of you all day."

"Oh," You mumble.

"Wanna know what I was thinking about?"

He doesn't give you a chance to answer.

"I was thinking about," A single finger, his middle finger, runs along the seam of your panties. A ghost of a touch that makes your knees weak "Giving you a nice, thorough inspection."

You can't think.

"I was thinking," He answers again, but this time he pushes and you gasp at the sudden contact "About what it might be like to watch you make a mess like this," Another press, a little harder, still not where you need "Get these nice and dirty,"

"Satoru," Your voice is high-pitched. A whine. A sound you didn't even know you could make.

"I was thinking," He repeats, removing his hand completely "How wet I could get you by telling you all the dirty, awful, nasty things I wanna do with you,"

"What a-are you?"

"It's not proper at all for a trusted grown-up hm? To be pulling up your skirt and showing off your sweet little cunt to your superior? There's windows. They'll see you,"

You can only repeat his name. "Satoru."

"Do you want them to see you?" He asks, hand gentle on your thigh. He trails up "Do you want them to see you bent over the desk while I fuck you? Or maybe you want to spread your legs more,"

You choke on your spit, trying to keep the noises in.

"Make you sit with your legs wide and fuck you with my fingers till you squirt all over the desk. Let everyone see how filthy you let me make you,"

That makes you open your eyes. Once squeezed shut, now wet with need. You turn slightly, looking down at him. He looks pleased by this, by your staring. He watches your face as he gathers the material covering your pussy, pulling it between your lips with enough friction that your knees nearly give out.

"It's good that these were so light," He offers "Didn't think you could get this wet over something like this."

Your lower lip is trembling.

He still doesn't take pity on you.

"You did well," He kisses your knee. It's the most you've gotten from him today "What should I give you hm?"

Your words feel slurred and your head feels completely heavy. "Make me cum. Please, I wanna—"

"Shhh," He coos, patting your leg "Sit up on the desk ,"

You listen, sitting up and far back enough to sit comfortable. Gojo positions you with your feet flat on the desk underneath you. He pulls your skirt up this time, guiding your arms around his neck as he pushes his hand into the waistband of your panties.

The sudden contact is deliciously overstimulating. You gasp and Gojo hums, pleased.

"So sweet," He praises, after you've finally lost all of your resolve - brain clouded with nothing but unadulterated desire. It's hard not to give into Gojo. He always makes it good for you in the end "And so wet. You'll leave a stain."

You sniffle "Satoru," You repeat. He laughs good-naturedly. It makes you huff.

"Right, right. Sorry,"

He doesn't make you wait. The feeling of Gojo's hand makes you gasp with your face buried in his neck. His fingers are thick, smooth skin cool to the touch like a balm on your ever growing heat. He starts with his middle finger, fucking into you slowly and even though it isn't enough to make you cum - it's enough to stimulate you. Already so worked up, so needy it's so good.

But he's not doing it to make you feel good. He's preparing you, wanting to give you something better.

"Gonna give you my cock," He mumbles against the crown of your head, free hand tucking your head to his chest "You're gonna cum all over it for me, okay?"

A pathetic uh-huh leaves your lips, dazed. He doesn't give you anything more after that. One finger without resistance prompts another, and he stops at three. You can feel yourself stretched. You've taken it before, more than once.

But this time feels different. Your stomach is tied in knots. Gojo pulls away from you slightly, enough to undo his pants and let his cock spring free. White hairs neat at the base, tip flushed red. He's so hard, he's throbbing against your thigh where you can feel him.

"Take me in, baby," He hums, pushing the round tip against your cunt before it catches. He lets himself in slowly "That's it,"

The intial stretch leaves your lungs feeling punched out. Already undone, nerves frayed and mind fuzzy - the soft stretch of your pussy accommodating his length leaves you shaking. Skin on skin, raw and desperate, he swears under his breath and throws his head back. His adams apple bobs slightly, smiling as he swallows.

"So good,"

He fucks himself deeper Lets you adjust to each inch, and waits to bottom out until it's comfortable. The brief moment of tension only drives your lust further out of control. You can feel every slight throb and twitch. It gives you a second to appreciate every vein and the slight curve. The deep angle he's hitting you.

Just when you think you can't lose it anymore, he maneuvers his hand between your bodies and uses his thumb on your clit. Every neuron fires at once as he rubs the abused bundle of nerves, achy and weeping between your legs.

Your fingers tighten in his shoulders and Satoru laughs. He starts to move like that, careful and practiced. He angles each thrust of his hips to time it with his fingers. All precision, all reward. He thumbs your needy clit and fucks his cock right against the sweetest, softest part inside of you. He knows it so well by now, it always remembers him.

"Cum on me, sweet thing. Just a little more."

You wrap your legs around Gojo's waist as all the tension in your body started to overflow. All your tight muscles, the hot feeling in your belly that flows and disperses through your whole body. Every sensation works in tandem in making you fall apart and all of it happens at Gojo's mercy.

"Oh, Satoru, oh,"

You cum so hard you see white in your vision. You can feel yourself pulse as Gojo fucks himself as deep into you can go. All the way in your stomach, up to your throat - it knocks all the wind out of you as your pussy pulses and holds and clings to Gojo's cock like it never ever wants it to leave.

Gojo follows you in the aftermath of your own orgasm.

A few more shallow thrust of hips before he pours his cum into you, thick white ropes making your belly feel even hotter.

You stay like that a minute, full and exhausted until Gojo pulls away to kiss you.

"Let's clean up," He offers, an apology without saying sorry "We'll finish up at home, hm? Okay?"

You nod.

"Kay."

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #writing tag #warm ups #do not talk to me. i wrote this with my dick in my hand. jesus christ

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schuylerpeck · 4 months

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we were going to be gray-haired and wrinkled together; houses-a-few-streets-away, corner-bar-that-knows-us-by-name, best friends for life.

in the days before I moved out of state and across the country, I re-wrote and deleted a text to you over and over; wondering if it was common decency to let you know I was thinking about/was going to/left. I didn’t. even now, from 2,000 miles away, I still wonder if one day we’ll cross each other on the street—if our first instinct will be bared teeth or remorse.

what would I say to you, now that years have passed and have carried my anger with it? I don’t think I want to know why you did what you did. I don’t think there is any going back. instead, I’d ask if you remember the night we drank enough that Ratatouille became a horror movie. that time I bussed across the city to your house, through a monsoon and the beginning of a divorce, the Snapchats I’d sent singing Black Eyed Peas at empty bus stops to keep myself from crying. how long you hugged me when I arrived. the afternoons walking through the mall long enough to round back to the chocolate store for another free sample. how many different shades your hair has taken since we met—if I can still name the reason each time you reached for a bottle of hair dye. when we all snuck into your boyfriend’s work and played beer pong after hours and your mother cheered you on harder than she had for high school sports. I’d tell you I often revisit those videos the night we did mushrooms and hearing our voices still make me laugh. I’d ask when did you get over your fear of horses. who holds you now. if you’re doing better.

maybe, just a little bit, I’d still want to know why.

this isn’t the first time I’ve realized, after the wisdom of a few years, that under the catty lines and thrown insults and inventing new ways to block the other out, is the grief of losing what was believed to be forever. eviction from a home we made in the other. I’m comfortable enough now to know that I can miss you and still be grateful we’ve moved forward without each other; that I can be hurt and still wish you the best.

I think that’s it. whatever sidewalk, whatever town, whatever likelihood I’d ever see you again: I’m not sure about forgiveness, but I wish you the best.

#warm ups #ex friendships #poetry #poems #spilled ink #quotes #journal #prose poetry #writers on tumblr #schuyler peck #friendships

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