𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝙱𖤐𝙳 𝙳𝒪𝙶.

rarely so obedient and yet he sinks, cranium pillowed upon extremities. tugging the blindfold off to allow digits full spectrum, he idly folds it and places it on his stomach.

the stupid question i’m fucking asking you, eiko.

jumpscare baby brother style.

will you soothe my jealousy?

stay jealous?

gojo’s thankful. it’s been a long time since he’s had something like this professionally done. vulnerability isn’t allowed, especially by the man, the myth, the legend. he’s about to become a puddle of goo, a contented noise sounding in the back of his throat.

squinting. do i have a child … illegitimate, maybe … ?

and relax, he does. though typically faux, a genuine relaxation is rare and few and far between. he soaks in the attention and affection, tension melting entirely. if he stopped, gojo would be upset.

i’ve never denied it.

instead of a bark, he’s practically purring. unseen eyes slide shut, body soon going lax beneath machinations. mm —— feels nice.

how so.

OKAY, WHORE. KEEP IT UP, KEEP IT UP.

doesn’t bark —— but does lean very heavily into the touch.

what the fuck pt. 2.

scratch behind his ear and he might bark.