wait chill on me rq

- 🪱

it takes me an embarrassingly long time to write out an actual fic which is why i always do drabbles... ive had a nerdjo one in the drafts for a while and im currently only at 350 words. over the course of 3 weeks 🤤

Do you take requests?? I'd love to see more of married Leon no pressure

leon was the same man you'd known for the past six years. hardened shell, gruff voice, a body worn and rough from years of training and fighting—of surviving, never knowing if he’d even see the next sunrise. the dark circles under his striking blue eyes, the gentle wrinkles that adorned his face, small creases around his mouth and nose showing glimpse of the rare moments where life had given him something worth laughing for.

moments with you.

he never thought he'd experience a love like this, didn't think he was worthy of it—of a dynamic like yours. the kind you'd see in 90's movies where the main couple grows old together, learning every little detail about each other until decades pass and their presence becomes something as familiar as breathing. a love that stays through cold winters, warm and sticky summers, floral springs, and muddy autumns. love that didn't fade with time, but instead grew alongside it, blooming quietly with every passing season.

the kind that made him feel embarrassingly soft and had him getting all gooey inside, blush creeping up the back of his neck before slowly traveling to the apples of his cheeks, grinning so hard his lips would quiver.

when he finally proposed, the ring he slipped onto your finger wasn't extravagant. it didn't need to be. it was thoughtful, carefully chosen, and carried every unspoken promise he struggled to put into words. a promise of every quiet morning, every ordinary day, every tomorrow he was lucky enough to have.

the vows he shared with you would keep you up on random nights, heart still thumping at the thought.

“i spent a long time thinking i wouldn't get a future,” he'd whispered, his thumb brushing gently over your hand as he held back a grin. “but somehow, I found one with you.” his voice trembled slightly, nervous.

“i can't promise that life will always be easy. i can't promise i'll never worry, or that i won't come home exhausted and stubborn…” a small laugh escaped him.

“but i can promise i'll love you through all of it. i want to spend every tomorrow i can get with you.”

♡ྀི teasing subby catjo with the toy you'd initially bought for yourself...

unfortunately, he'd been misbehaving the past couple of weeks, and the last straw was when he scratched up the new sweaters you'd been gifted by a friend! when you confronted him about it—his ears twitched in anger and he complained that he was “naturally” territorial!

in return, you'd forbidden him from being anywhere in the vicinity of your bedroom, and if he had to be left home alone, you'd install cameras for when the time came, making sure to watch his every move because the next time you caught him doing something he wasn't supposed to, you'd punish him. safe to say, the brat didn't take it lightly. so what'd you do? dig through your closet. why? well:

your eyes were glued onto the sight beneath you—gojo's flushed face, panting pathetically while you sat snug between his spread legs, his tail gone limp and flat against your tummy. you cooed gently at the trembling cat, running your fingers through the fluff of his tail, “what's wrong? you were acting so coy earlier, there's no need to be so shy now.” you urge, glancing at the small beads of tears forming in the corner of his baby blue eyes.

“i said i was sorry,” he rasped out, voice hoarse from his constant mewls and crying. poor baby just wasn't good at keeping quiet, expressing to you just how much he thought this was unfair. you rolled your eyes, tugging harshly at his tail, pulling it over your thigh.

he shook his head, far too dazed to keep eye contact. he let out a purr-like rumble, frustrated. “that hurts!”

“wanna know what else hurts? seeing my sweaters ripped up!”

with that, you pulled down his dampened briefs, taking his length into your hand, squeezing tightly. you began rubbing little circles on the head, not bothering to slowly build him up, merely teasing the tip as you watched it ooze. gojo yelped when he felt the soft ridges of your palm, rutting his hips up into your hand. “mm, im sorry! im so sorry,” his head fall back onto the pillows with a soft plop, eyebrows furrowed.

clearly, your poor little kitty didn't know what was in store for him. and he clearly didn't imagine his cock would have a cold wand pressed against it, strong pulses pressed on his vein.

“stupid cat,” you muttered, clicking the button once more to level up the vibrations. you wanted satoru to cry today. mainly because you almost did at the sight of your sweaters on the floor, the sleeves torn and scratches all over them. just at the mere thought your blood boiled once more. what an idiot!

“hah—fuck, pleasepleaseplease just let me cum, i can't hold it anymore!” he groaned, the vibrations of that pink wand made his head dizzy, precum spilling over your fingers and onto your wrist, covering your sheets. he shook against the bed, his cock twitching in your hand, hips desperately bucking, searching for friction that you wouldn't give him.

his ears perked up once your thumb lay flat against the slit, applying enough pressure to make him lift his lower body, heels digging into the mattress below him. your weight on top of his legs restricted him from going any further, forced to feel the sparks of every vibration instead.

your tits are his favorite thing ever. finishing all over them? check. kissing, sucking and squeezing them? check. boobjobs? ♡

one : two : three : four : five

satoru loves making you feel good with his fingers, he can't help but cream his pants whenever he does—it's his favorite thing when you're writhing against his shaky hands

one : two : three : four : five

satoru loooves when you give him mean handjobs. if it's his lucky day, your acrylic nails—that he paid for—are scratching his poor, aching cock until he's overstimulated and nothing comes out anymore

one : two : three : four

he loves when you ride him until he cries, his white lashes sticking together and teary eyes staring up at yours. he always cums so hard—especially if you're kind enough to spit in his mouth

one : two : three : four

he loves watching your ass jiggle against him, your hips thrusting back onto his length. he can't help the tears that fall onto your back, his hands gripping bruises into the sides of your hips

one : two : three

making out always manages to turn him on, cock strained against his hello kitty pajama pants that are bound to have a damp spot

one : two : three

satoru does such a good job when he's eating your pussy out. he'll take his time, worshipping your body before his tongue darts out, soon turning into a mess with your juices dripping down his chin

one : two : three

he loves playing with all the toys you bought him, always imagining it's your tight pussy instead of the rough silicone pocket

one : two : three

he can't get enough of your wet mouth, always whimpering and whining when he feels your cheeks getting hollow and throat closing around his tip

one : two : three

♡ྀི getting stoned and having frat boy!satoru gently rub your clit for thirty minutes

emphasis on gently because sadly, gojo's fingers work excruciatingly slow on the swollen nub, tracing endless patterns with his fingertips. he's barely applying pressure, instead replaced with feather-like touches, his middle finger pressing down ever so slightly whenever he catches you rutting your hips into his hand. your thighs tremble slightly, your soaked panties tossed somewhere besides your bed and your bra's pushed up against your breasts. the blunt on his drawer laid forgotten, smoke hissing out as it quietly died down. you could barely make out what he was whispering against your collarbone, melting underneath his veiny arms. he made his way down your chest, swirling his tongue around your nipple before pulling away.

♡ྀི the first time toji ate you out was the first time you'd ever felt like passing out—in your whole life

the process was messy. his face was covered in your hot juices—and he'd made some comparison about you and a “cream donut” but you couldn't really decipher what he'd actually said. your head was pounding and you swore you could see stars, yet by the time his tongue flicked against your clit, you weren't so sure if you were seeing anything at all.

he wasn't nice in any way, not even remotely gentle, partially because he didn't know how to be but you weren't complaining. he knew everything you liked, from the way you shuddered under him, to the way your breathing quickened when his fingers reached to play with your tits, and especially when his mouth wrapped around your hole—your only reaction being to shout his name. he'd given you no time to adjust before he began to withdraw, groaning appreciatively at the feel of your sopping cunt around his tongue.

his hands reached around to grab at whatever skin they could before safely tucking themselves under your thighs, his thumb making it's way onto your clit, the fat digit pressing harshly against your nub while his tongue did the rest of the work.

the only small gesture of affection was him cleaning up the mess he'd made, tongue lapping at whatever dribbled down his chin. he wasted no time in shoving the rest of his fingers inside you, your insides pulsing with every small pump, his fingertips reaching further than you'd anticipated. you rocked your hips against his hand, noting the way his forearms flexed underneath your body. you bucked against his face, pressing against his tongue in a desperate search for more.