Gojo gave you a tight grin, breathless. He used a callused finger, stroking a piece of hair out of your face. —“Done?” He asked coarsely, the both of you sweaty and sore, your lip marks aligning his neck. He lay right beside you, staring at you admiringly, his legs and arms wrapped around you, the both of you tangled in a mess of limbs. Gojo pulled you to him, his breaths heavy as he gestured to his neck, “These aren’t leaving anytime soon,” he sighed, clicking his tongue.