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You clamp onto the junction between his neck and shoulder “You’re so sweet.” Your words are breathless, it’s hard to get out clear sentences when he’s squeezing down on you so hard.
Satoru arches deep into you, chest melding into yours “Please,” he begs, voice soft. His eyes are shiny with tears and his lashes wet. Face flushed with overexertion.
Your thrusts are quick and deep, hips quickly connecting with his pelvis “I’m gonna make you a dad, hm, how does that sound?”
“P-perfect,” he whimpers, ankles twisting harder around your waist. His nails scratch down the length of your back.
You wince from the burn, kissing fervently down the column of his neck. Satoru’s tip keeps poking at your abdomen forcing your attention to it. You tut, “You’re making such a mess,” your hand palms his erection, coaxing his release with a few meager strokes. You smear his cum onto his lower abdomen “Just look at this.” You taunt while continuing your abuse into his weeping hole.
His eyes are pressed shut, pleasure leaking from his eyes. Bottom lip trapped between sharp teeth. “Is too— ah” —he hiccups— “too much.” His chest rises and falls quickly. Shallow breaths drawing your attention to his sore nipples.
You press your thumb onto his leaking slit. “Is it?” You rub your thumb along his aching tip collecting his arousal, “Why is my thumb wet?”
He opens his mouth to argue, and you rudely press your thumb against the warm muscle in his mouth. His puffy lips seal perfectly against it. Swallowing the saltiness of his own mess.
You kiss the tears down his face, peppering them against the softness of the apples of his cheeks. Your hand trails along the length of his shoulder, wandering to his meaty pectoral. Giving his twitching nipple a gentle twist.
He buries his head in your neck. Hiding in your scent. His damp hair tickles along your jaw. “I’m... close,” he sighs. He takes a greedy bite of your neck. Your thrusts are angled sharply at his prostate, pace faltering from exhaustion.
Satoru squeezes hard around your length and releases hot sticky ropes onto your stomach with a loud groan muffled by your neck.
His voice vibrates in your body, and the heat sends shivers down your spine arousing you more than you'd like to admit. Your hips ever so slightly lift more than you would for a thrust and Satoru yanks you closer against him, “Don’t. I want to feel it.”
He slightly tips you off balance, but when your eyes meet his glassy blue eyes, pleading with everything nice in the world. You suddenly don’t mind but hope he’ll be okay.
You press your hips flush against his, your eyes roll back and with a guttural groan your climax adorns his walls white. Satoru pulls you to his lips and kisses you messily. Teeth biting and kissing at the corners of your mouth. His tongue languidly licks across your lips.
You slowly pull out trying to be as gentle as possible. Satoru gasps at the void you leave behind.
Your attention snaps back to him “Are you okay? I didn't hurt you or anything?”
A small smile finds itself on his gorgeous features, he shakes his head. "Just be quick.”
You press a kiss to his temple, giving his defined waist a soft squeeze. “I will,” you murmur.
A few moments later you bring back a damp towel doing your best to clean the aftermath of your entanglement. Satoru’s almost dozing off and you do what you can to keep him somewhat awake as you get him clean. Opting to sleep in another bed than worry about changing the sheets. You’re buttoning on a shirt when Satoru’s suggests doing without.
Something about wanting to feel your back against his chest. Always as clingy as can be.
Over the next few days, you’ve noted Satoru is a lot clingier than usual. Which would mean something if he were anyone else. He’s always been glued to your side, dragging you places and hanging around while you work.
But he’s upgraded his previous antics by a noticeable degree. Licking at your neck and pouting whenever you’re more than 5 meters from him. His scent is a lot more potent. Making simple tasks all the more convoluted.
You even find yourself irritated by the scent he has when he comes home from teaching. He smells like other people, and you feel an insatiable urge to mark your scent all over him.
“Please I have work soon.” Satoru groans but makes no effort to move away from you.
“I’ll be quick, promise. I won’t even put it in.”
You suck down the side of his neck. Pressing your lips along his collarbone. His pale skin bruises upon contact; you wouldn’t know what to do if not for those high collars.
Your hips are pressed against the firmness of his glutes. Your hands linger but never go past his waistband. You feel his temperature spike when your fingers run across his happy trail, your teeth nibble at the shell of his ear.
His eyes squeeze shut, “If you’re going to touch me like that, then might as well,” he huffs.
Your laugh comes out as a breathy chuckle against his neck. “I don’t really know what you’re talking about I’ve hardly ev—”
He groans in frustration, knuckles turning white from his grip on the counter, “You talk too much.”
Your teeth sink into his shoulder in response. Satoru cries out, he falls limp against you but is held up by your strong arms. “I don’t like when you interrupt me.”
“Do something about it.”
Satoru can feel your lips stretching on the base of his neck. “I should.” You rub your growing bulge against his slacks, feeling the material dampening with your slick.
He grabs your hair, pulling your face closer to his, murmuring against your lips: “Better make it worth it.”
Your kisses turn into bites along his shoulder. Hands trailing upwards underneath his uniform and onto his defined midsection. Massaging, groping, fingers everywhere and nowhere he truly wants you.
You drop to your knees; Satoru turns around to face you and is met with his hips pulled dangerously close to your face. His whimpers can be heard from above you, his long fingers thread into your strands, steadying himself.
You kiss along his v-line licking at his tender flesh. Your lips are searing against his feverish skin. Your hand palms the growing bulge of his uniform. He looks almost pained above you.
You grip the base of his dick as you pull him out of his pants. He’s a lot hotter here compared to the rest of his body. Your eyes trail up his figure, catching his gaze. Impatience written across his face, anticipation in his darting eyes. His tip is already leaking with precum. You take your time smearing it along his growing extremity. You press your lips against him. Relishing in each twist and bulge of his veins beneath your lips.
“Hurry,” Satoru pants, nudging himself further into your grasp. He wants nothing more than to have your wet mouth around him.
Your gaze is fixed on his as your mouth wraps around his dick, jaw stretching to accommodate his length. His slick glides along your tongue, your tongue on the underside of his dick.
Satoru is impatient but knows better than to face-fuck you without permission. He feels pinned underneath your gaze, knees feeling weak already.
His jaw twitches when he feels your throat flutter around him. Your senses are overrided with him; his scent, his taste, his sounds. You want to take it all and consume it whole. His left-hand flexes in your hair, you strengthen the grip on his thighs to keep yourself steady as you increase your pace.
“Oh god- oh this—oh god” he rambles, he’s a moaning mess above you, thighs twitching and voice breaking. He wants to hold it in, savour this view for as long as he can. His Adam apple bob’s with each nervous swallow, you look way too good. “Fuck you’re gorgeous. I’m gonna cum. Gonna—“ a long, drawn-out moan, fingers flexed tightly in your hair as he shoves himself all the way down your mouth. Muscles drawn taught as cum spurts down the length of your throat.
You suck him through his orgasm, ignoring the burn in your scalp and the soreness in your mouth. You pull off of him, catching your breath and taking the time to lick the stray droplets of cum leaking from his tip. A mixture of salt and your saliva trickles down your chin.
You massage his balls as you kiss down the length of his twitching dick, each touch has him gasping and sighing from your touch. He instinctively reaches for you, pulling you up to your feet. His tongue is in your mouth, moaning at the mixture of yours and his fluids. He’s licking the inside of your mouth. Touching and teasing as if he hasn’t seen you all year.
beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep!
He quickly pulls away and is snapped out of his hazy affection. Pupils constricting at an impossible speed. He looks down at his watch “Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuck.”
Your face contorts with worry, “What’s wrong?”
“Had an early mission today,” he quickly makes his way over to the washroom and tries to fix his appearance but it’s no use. He can’t go in like this at all. His skin is flushed, lips swollen, and even with his collar up he just cannot go in looking like this.
You give him a sheepish look, “Sorry, but you also told me to make it worth your time.” You wrap your arms around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder.
He runs a hand through his hair, “No more of this in the morning”
You pout at him through the reflection.
“I’m serious” he removes your arms from his waist and tries to adjust his hair with his headband; his forehead is damp. He’s sweating. Gojo Satoru does not sweat. He grabs a towel but sighs in frustration there is truly no way to fix this in time.
“You can just teleport you know.”
He turns to give you a pointed look, “No way, if I do that, I won't be able to take the train past my favourite bakery, you know that.”
Satoru called in sick that day.