Snow Leopard Gojo - part 2 (∩˃o˂∩) ♡ nsfw!
Shoving a six-foot-something hybrid into a closet was… not your finest moment.
“Get in,” you hissed, palms pressed uselessly against Satoru’s bare chest, a chest that felt more like marble than flesh, all hard planes and warmth. He loomed over you, grinning like a cat who’d not only found the cream but also knocked it over for fun.
“Aw, but it’s cozy in here,” he purred, peering past you at the mountain of laundry and half-empty shoeboxes cluttering your closet. His tail swished lazily, brushing your ankle. “Smells like you, too. Cute.”
“Shh, your mom’s gonna hear~,” he sing-songed, bending down until his breath ghosted your ear. “Unless you want her to find us like this?”
Your face flamed. “Don’t be dumb.”
With a theatrical, yet awfully bratty sigh, he finally stepped backward, folding himself onto the floor like a contortionist. The Hello Kitty towel around his hips rode up dangerously, and you swore he did it on purpose. “Don’t miss me too much,” he whispered, wiggling his big, calloused fingers in a mocking wave.
You slammed the door, heart thundering.
The next thirty minutes were agony. Your mother, bless her, had arrived with tupperwares of veggie gyoza and white chocolate chip cookies, her smile soft as she fussed over your “tired eyes” and “skinny arms.” But every creak of the floorboards made you twitch. Your gaze kept darting to the bedroom door, half-expecting Satoru to waltz out, towel dropped, declaring, “Surprise! I’m her new roommate!”
Once your mom left, you flung the closet open, only to freeze.
Satoru sat cross-legged amidst your soft sweaters, his snow-white hair mussed adorably. The towel remained (thank heavens), but clutched in his hands was…
He blinked up at you, your cotton, strawberry-print panties dangling from his teeth like a hunter’s prize. “Mmrf?”
His pupils were blown wide, blue barely peeking from black. Your heart dropped to your bum as you saw that those were the panties you wore yesterday… As in, not washed, dried, faint slick still clung to the middle.
“You-you pervert!” You lunged, snatching the fabric away. His plush lips quirked into a smirk, and you knew he’d been waiting for this. “Why would you- how even- ?!”
“They smell like you,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. Before you could die, he leaned forward and licked a stripe up your tiny neck. His pink, rough tongue scraping your pulse point.
“Eep!” You reeled back, clutching your throat. “Warn a girl!”
“But where’s the fun in that?” He unfolded himself, tail curling around your waist to steady you. “C’mon, I’m starving… Especially after smelling you. Feed me!”
You didn’t acknowledge the “smelling you” part, merely walking to the kitchen with your tummy in swirls, heart beating faster than a spooked bunny’s.
Dinner was a spectacle. You’d cooked the lamb chops thoroughly, plating them with rice and veggies, a meal fit for, well, a person. Satoru took one look at the knife and fork, snorted, and dug in with his hands, tearing into the meat like it owed him fresh ibex.
“You’re supposed to chew, not inhale,” you muttered, nibbling one of the cookies your mom brought. Your dinner was… weird most of the time. You had warm milk with chocolate in your miffy cup, getting curious side eyes from Satoru.
He paused, a glob of sauce on his cheek. “Want me to lick the plate next?”
“You’re no fun.” Still, he let you drag him to the sink afterward, pouting as you scrubbed his hands with citrus-scented soap. “Y’know, my tongue’s self-cleaning.”
“And I’m self-respecting. Keep your icky germs to yourself.”
As night fell, Satoru’s true origin spilled out between stolen bites of your cookies. The Himalayas. Poachers. A wealthy owner who’d treated him like a trophy. “Boring lady,” he grumbled, tail thumping the couch. “All she did was take pics for her shitty Instagram. No belly rubs or cuddles. No fun.”
Your chest ached. “So you… ran?”
“Duh.” He flicked your nose. “Best decision ever. Led me to you.”
You busied yourself with dishes to hide your blush. Satoru saw it, though. His tail swished in quiet victory, more like self-satisfaction.
Bedtime brought a fresh battle.
You had just finished a relaxing shower, your room smelled of lavender, the lingering scent of your body wash. Changing was meh. You changed in your tiny closet, worried Satoru might walk in and see you naked, but once done, and in your small, soft, very lacy nightgown, you felt more than ready to sleep.
But just as you lay down, you saw Satoru peeking through your cracked open door, his expression beyond cute, just as annoying. It was obvious where his eyes were, trailing your pert body. You felt his pretty blue’s burn harshly on your perky breasts, on your hips, put on display by your little nightgown.
“Bad kitty,” you said, tossing a miffy plushie at Satoru’s smug face. Your cheeks turned rosy, bothered that a mere look from the man could make you so… shy. “You’re sleeping on the couch.”
He’d changed into your brother’s old sweatpants (too short, clinging to his calves) and a Hello Kitty tee that stretched obscenely over his pecs, the hem riding up to reveal a sliver of toned stomach. “But it’s cold,” he whined, flopping onto your pink bed like an overpowered little prince with the caught plush in hand, well, not little. “And lonely. And scary.”
“You’re a snow leopard. You are scary.”
“Please?” He rolled onto his back, paws (hands? Hands.) clasped under his chin. Moonlight gilded his white, thick lashes, his eyes shimmering like twin lagoons. “I’ll be a good boy. Promise.”
“Fine. But no funny business.”
He celebrated by rolling himself into a burrito with your Hello Kitty quilts, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth with his ridiculously strong arms. His purr rumbled through you, low and steady, his nose nuzzling your hair.
“Hey,” you whispered, fingers brushing the collar still snug around his throat. “Why don’t you take this off?”
He stiffened, then sighed. “…It’s a reminder. That I’m mine now. Not hers.”
Your heart squeezed. “You are.”
“Yours too, maybe,” he murmured, so quietly you almost missed it.
You fell asleep like that, his tail draped over your hip, his breath soft in your ear, his strong heartbeat like a gentle lullaby, and the strangest, sweetest sense that this jerk wasn’t that much of a jerk.
The rhythm you’d carved out with Satoru was… peculiar, but precious. Mornings began with him sprawled across your chest like a living weighted blanket, his tail flicking your chin until you groaned awake, just like how he was in his cub form. He’d trail you to the kitchen, stealing bites of your buttered, honeyed toast (despite his carnivorous hate for carbs) and sipping your orange juice straight from the carton, just to watch you squawk. Afternoons were for sunbeams, he’d claim the best patches of light, melting into a puddle of purrs near the TV, while you tackled textbooks at the table. Evenings? Those belonged to his obsession with your bathtub. He’d soak for far too long, clouding the water with lavender bubbles, his ears peeking over the rim like misbehaving marshmallows.
When you’d come in to scold him, he’d pout and dry off, mumbling about how “mean” his owner is.
But today, something was off.
You’d returned from class bone-tired, your brain still buzzing with equations, only to freeze in the genkan. The air hummed with a sticky sweetness, honey drizzled over sea salt, floral but feral. Your stomach flipped. “Satoru…?”
The apartment was eerily tidy. No half-eaten steak abandoned on the counter, no trail of shed fur leading to the couch. No Digimon reruns on TV… Just silence, thick and syrupy. Your pulse spiked as you crept toward the bedroom.
There, curled in a shivering heap on your rumpled sheets, was Satoru.
“Oh my god-” You rushed to him, knees hitting the mattress. He clutched your pillow to his face, his knuckles white, breath ragged. His usual alabaster skin was flushed rose-pink, sweat glistening at his temples. The scent intensified here, heady, intoxicating, like orchids dipped in musk.
“Satoru, look at me,” you pleaded, cupping his jaw. His eyes cracked open, pupils blown so wide his irises were mere slivers of Arctic blue. They glowed faintly, fever-bright. “What’s wrong? Are you sick? Do you need-?”
“Heat,” he rasped, voice shredded. His claws snagged the pillowcase, threads snapping. “It’s- hah- not… not your problem. Just… go.”
“Go? You’re burning up!” You pressed a cold, tiny palm to his forehead; he whimpered, nuzzling into your touch like a starved kitten. “Why didn’t you tell me this could happen?!”
“‘Cause it’s embarrassing,” he hissed, though the effect was ruined by how he arched into your hand, chasing your fingers as you brushed his hair back. “Snow leopards don’t- nngh- don’t do this every year. Just… when we…” His throat bobbed. “…find a mate.”
Your breath hitched. “Oh.”
“Not that I’m- ah- proposing,” he gritted out, tail lashing. “Just… biology being a dick. I’ll be fine. Go.”
But his body betrayed him. He shuddered violently, a broken whine escaping as he rutted against the mattress, hips stuttering. You saw the way his stiff cock pushed against the cotton of his pajamas, the way there was a tiny patch of wetness… pre cum staining the fabric. The motion sent a bolt of heat straight to your cheeks, but not more than the way the bed shook faintly, just a mere glimpse of how strong he is.
“Stop being stubborn,” you whispered, climbing onto the bed. Your pink sundress rode up to your pretty thighs as you settled against the headboard, legs folded. “C’mere.”
Satoru stared at you, conflicted, pride warring with desperation. Then, with a tiny wounded noise, he crawled into your lap, his face buried in the crook of your neck. He was trembling, his skin scorching through your clothes.
“Shh, it’s okay,” you murmured, cradling his head. His ears flattened, velvety against your palms. “You’re okay.”
“Not okay,” he choked out, fingers clawing the sheets instead of your hips- oh, never mind, his fingers started to knead your hips, like dough. “You’re too… soft. Smell too good. Hate this.”
“I know,” you soothed, rocking gently. “Just breathe.” Funny thing is, your heart was racing, you should breathe too, but the way Satoru touched you went straight to your core, making you sticky, your panties clinging to the fluid.
You traced idle patterns over his back, avoiding the dip of his spine where his tail met skin, yet that didn’t change a thing. He jerked, a guttural purr rattling his chest. You felt his lips on your neck, his fangs grazing your skin, begging to sink in, bite you as he fucked you senseless. “Fuck, baby- don’t- please- ”
“Does this help?” you asked softly, skimming your nails up his nape. Your cheeks burned as you saw the damp spot on his pajamas grow, like he was a leaking faucet of need.
“Yes. No. Stop.” He gasped, hips rolling helplessly, uselessly. “Don’t… don’t tease me.”
You weren’t, but hell, it felt like it. Your free hand rested on his tummy, shifting him a little to be comfier. Eyes trying to not stray to his weeping, cotton covered cock, the way it twitched, the way your core oozed more warm slick.
Satoru obviously caught on, having a sharp nose, but he just whined, feeling frustrated. He didn’t want to hurt you, in any way, so he tried to avoid the thought of rutting into you, feeling your tight, warm, gummy insides hug his thick length tight, how he’d fill you with his warm, salty release, maybe watch it flow out as he fingered it back in…
Fuck, this wasn’t helping.
“I’m not,” you promised, heart aching. His anguish was palpable, a storm of need and restraint. “Tell me what you need.”
“You,” he keened, the word raw. “But I can’t- won’t- hngh- ”
“Shh.” You pressed a soft kiss to his temple, tasting salt. “I’ve got you.”
Slowly, so slowly, you palmed his tummy, the muscles quivering beneath your touch. His breath hitched, a broken sound, but he didn’t pull away. You mapped the planes of his abdomen, going lower despite your heart beating too fast, your body feeling warm, gentling him like a spooked kitten. His purr stuttered, deepened, until the bed vibrated with it.
Satoru’s breath hitched when your tiny hand brushed the very bottom of his tummy, near his pubic bone. His eyes widened, up on yours as his hands clung to your dress, unintentionally pulling it down, revealing your baby-pink lace-covered, pert breasts.
Your hand hesitantly ran over his stiff cock, lips parting at the sheer size of him, how girthy and long- was his dick curved? You almost fainted, but Satoru’s whine, paired with his puffy lips clinging to your now released nipple, brought you back.
Your panties flooded, and you mewled softly, palming his aching cock as you watched him suckle on your nipple like a hungry baby. His eyes shut a little, and his ears- oh, his cute ears twitched with each suck. His hips jerked up desperately, whimpering nonsense onto your breasts. His sharp little fangs brush the sensitive skin, leaving you a mess.
You couldn’t say no to him anymore. But you hadn’t a clue how to please a man… Sure, you saw a few videos before, a girl jerking her hand up and down the length, the man groaning before he came, but was it the same to every man? You saw the way Satoru was almost crying as he suckled, basking in your palming, but far too needy, far too eager for more.
Who were you to deny him?
You gently pulled his pajamas down, eliciting a whimper from his pink lips, still stubbornly latched onto your nipple. His other hand now kneads your other breast, eyes up on you, looking far too innocent for the situation.
“Shh, I got you, kitty. Let me take care of you.” Once his throbbing, girthy, long cock bobbed out from his pajamas, your eyes widened, pupils shifting to phantom hearts.
Satoru was pure fantasy. His weeping dick, and swollen balls aching. His pinkish-red tip dribbled small amounts of milky release, his length covered in faint veins, curved faintly upwards, like a hook. Aroused was an understatement; you had the urge to sink down on him, despite your shy self, to feel his fat tip kiss your soft cervix…
Satoru suckled harder, nipping on your nipple, massaging the other until pliant. You glanced down at him, softly whimpering along to him as you began to follow pure instinct, jerking him off.
“There you go, kitty,” you whispered. “Just let go.”
He went boneless against you, limbs heavy, face barely hidden, his saliva bathing your now puffy nipple. His tail coiled around your ankle, an anchor.
Sweet thing hadn’t uttered a coherent word the entire time; that’s how gone he was. Your fingers grazed his swollen tip, adding more pressure to the length as you went up and down. Satoru’s whimper, alongside the jerk of his hips, with the hard nibble of your nipple, told you he was close.
So when his release fell like a waterfall, sticky white fluid spurting from his tip to his clenching tummy, all over your tiny hand, he trembled, ears twitching, tail shaking faintly. His lips didn’t leave your nipple, though, saliva strand staying intact as he looked up to you half lidded, whining softly.
“That’s it, baby… Such a good boy, hm?” You cooed softly, cheeks rosy, matching his. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, hands trembling softly. But when your sticky hand left his relaxed cock, he suckled more, almost begging to have some kind of physicality with you. Your hand cradling his head to your chest allowed him to, feeling your own arousal grow tenfold worse.
After a quick wipe of your sticky hand on his already messy pajamas, you let your hand rub his chest, noticing his sensitive spots far too easily. He whimpered quietly when your fingers lightly ran over his pink nipples, and when your nails brushed his collarbones.
By the time his breathing evened out, the room smelled of nothing but lavender, sticky release, and sleep.
Poor baby was worn out, overwhelmed from the pleasure, rightfully exhausted.
You didn’t move until moonlight spilled through the curtains. Slipping away only to first get a warm, wet cloth to clean his tummy, then you changed into your coziest Miffy pajamas, pulling a new pair out for him too. You returned to find him sprawled on his back, one arm flung over his eyes. The collar glinted in the dark, like his release.
You gently cleaned his saliva-ridden lips and chin, then his tummy, making sure to get his snowy happy trail clean from release. After removing his dirty pajamas and pulling his new ones up, you threw the cloth and pants in the laundry hamper, settling beside him with burning cheeks and a full heart.
“Stay,” he mumbled, hoarse but lucid, as you slid under the covers.
“Where else would I go? Silly kitty.” You curled into his side, head on his chest. His heartbeat soothed you, a steady drum beneath your ear.
Pleasuring him was scary at first, but… Now in bed, all comfy and warm with him, you felt far more confident, less shy about it. Sure, your panties were slick, messy with what he caused, but you’d deal with it later; now it was all about Satoru, your baby.
He hesitated, then wrapped around you, his nose in your hair. “…Thanks… ‘M sorry for-”
“Be quiet, ‘Toru, don’t say dumb stuff,” you teased.
He huffed a laugh, his ears burning pink, feeling surprisingly shy about being jerked off by his cute little owner. “Shut up.”
But his big, warm arms tightened, his purr resuming, softer now, a lullaby. You kissed the hollow of his strong throat, just above the collar.
“Next time,” you whispered, “don’t suffer alone. Please.”
He didn’t answer. Just nuzzled closer, his tail swathing your legs like the world’s fluffiest blanket.
But when you slept and felt his cheek nuzzle into your breasts, you knew the answer already.
Whoa! That was a lot, but I hope you truly enjoyed :) I wrote 90% of this half awake, since that's when my brain just locks in and spills the best writing I could ever pull out. I absolutely adore this little munchkin, so I will be making silly little drabbles, both sfw and nsfw, when I have the time. Btw, all my nsfw content is NOT for minors, and please do note I have this written in my intro, which is pinned. Take care of yourselves, lovelies :P
