im delirious from being sick buttttt imagine u n gojo n nanami are assigned a misssiom and after its done ur all in a hotel room (only booked two beds of course) and gojo n nanami are sharing one while u get the other right
and bc gojo is a Whore hes like touchin up on nanami and gettin him all hard and kissin on him and hes like "reader is literally over there like Stop" and gojo is like "jus be quiet and its fine! plus they wouldnt mind a lil show" HEHEHEHEHEEE and and nabami is grunting and moaning and panting but he doesnt want it to stop fr and gojo starts grinding on him
ALL THE WHILE ur jus pretending to be asleep bc mmm listening to them is hot but u simply cant take it anymore soooo u get up and join them perhaps 👀
i desperately want to write this but we all know how fucking slow i am at writing :(( perhaps one day but for now enjoy the vision
content: dark content (dubcon, cheating, baby trapping/forced pregnancy), reader has a vagina but no pronouns mentioned, painful sex, blood, doggy, mating press, like One butt stuff, petnames (baby, doll/dolly)
words: 3.4k
kofi
ao3
!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
a couple days of no sex so you can heal turns Toji into a needy, cheating slut
• • •
"Are you actually fucking serious?"
Toji doesn't even jump at your fiery tone, just looks up at you— seemingly bored— with his dick still buried in the bitch beneath him. She, on the other hand, reacts the same as any sane person would. Squeals and tries to yank the covers over her bare chest, her face paper white at being caught. Your eye twitches when she glances between you and Toji, supposedly putting the pieces together bit by bit. It's not necessarily her fault, you seriously doubt Toji told her about you, but you still wanna beat her fucking face in.
You walk over and shove Toji off of her and rip the covers back. The trashy tattoos on her hipbones make you grimace. "Get the fuck out," you say and she immediately scampers off the bed to gather her clothes, mumbling a slew of apologies that you don't really care to listen to.
"Really?" Toji grumbles, running a hand through his sweaty hair as his guest slams the front door shut hard enough to shake the apartment. He has the balls to be upset with you? Oh, you could fucking kill him right now. You rip the blankets— your blankets, on your bed— off him too, and point to the door.
"You can get out too," you hiss. "I can't do this shit anymore, so take your shit and get out!"
He protests, rolling his dark eyes as he calls you dramatic and crazy, all while you throw his clothes at him and yell at him to leave. He's really pulling out all the stops to try and get his way, but the blood rushing in your ears makes it impossible to hear him. You only snap out of your rage when he grips your wrist to keep you from throwing heavier shit at him.
"Fuckin' watch it," he snaps, dodging your free hand when you go to slap him before gripping it as well. You groan at him to distract from the tears that bubble up in your eyes. You shouldn't be crying, you should be used to this shit by now. Every single time, he swears he'll change and that he loves you, and every single time you stupidly believe him. You can't even defend yourself when your friends hound you for sticking around, because they're right.
"I fucking hate you," you bite out, attempting to jerk away from him, but his grip on your wrists tightens. You make the mistake of glancing down, and see his erection straining beneath the blanket that he haphazardly pulled back over his hips. Toji notices, and cracks a smile when you sniffle, turning your face away to save yourself the embarrassment. He's quick to grab your face in his massive hand, and force you to look right at him. Your pathetic little pout is exacerbated when he digs his fingers into your cheeks, tutting at your expression. Like an angry kitty.
"No you don't. 'S not my fault you put me on a sex ban, what did you expect? Whinin' about that sore pussy. Didn't wanna hurt ya, babe. Did you a favor, didn't I?" he croons, pulling his hand away to lick at the lingering tears on his fingers.
You'd laugh if you weren't so angry right now. A couple days without sex so your pussy can heal from how puffy and raw Toji fucks it is hardly a sex ban. He's just a slut.
Before you try to squirm away, Toji yanks you close so he can bury his face into your neck— where he knows you're weak— letting his breath tickle across your sweet spot.
"Fuck you! You never do anything for me," you fuss, trying to maintain the earlier bite you had, but Toji's scent filling your nose makes your head all foggy. You can even smell the remnants of that girl's perfume and it only makes you dizzier with anger. Makes you sink your nails into him, anywhere you can grab.
Kitty's got claws. Toji chuckles and pulls your wrists behind your back with ease. He turns you and bends you over the bed, curling his massive body over yours to bite at your ear.
"This you sayin' you wanna get hurt?" he taunts. "Want me to fuck this raw lil pussy till it bleeds?" He reaches down and stuffs his hand in your sweatpants to paw at your over sensitive clit. You try to squirm away but he puts his weight onto the forearm pinning your shoulders to the mattress. A shrill squeal leaves your lips when he sinks his teeth into the meaty juncture between your neck and shoulder.
"All you had to do was ask, and I woulda stopped fuckin' those pretty lil things ages ago. You think I was doin' that to hurt you? No, no, baby. I was lettin' you heal, yeah?" Toji's rich, gravelly voice has you melting beneath his touch as he stealthily slips your bottoms down so he can grind against your pretty panties.
"Y-you're lying," you sniffle. Your body jumps like it's been electrocuted when Toji presses his erection against your covered hole, intentionally soaking the pink panties so he can see just how wet you already are. Maybe taunt you about it, call you easy.
Your pussy is beyond sensitive still, and the feeling of him fucking his bulge into you as deep as the panties will let him, almost burns as the cotton aggravates your nerve endings. "Stoooooop," you whine, your voice shaky and laced with that resilient brat attitude. Toji needs to fuck that out of you quick.
He pulls away with a chuckle. Heat spreads across your face when you hear him lewdly running a tight fist up and down his shaft, making you sweat. Thankfully, the gush of air that hits your pussy when he tears your panties off cools your skin, but it doesn't stop the red hot blush from traveling to your ears.
"Y'givin' me mixed signals here, dolly," Toji groans. "First, yer cryin' over some cocksleeve stranger. Now yer cryin' at me to leave this pussy alone. You hate me that much, baby?"
You can hear how wide that cocky fucking grin is as he coos at you. He talks like he can distract you from the uncomfortable burn as he presses his thumb against your hole, growling at how tight and swollen you are.
You hiss when he roughly fucks his thumb into you. Your legs twitch like they want to give out on you, but Toji is faster. He releases his forearm from your shoulders and wraps his arm around your hips, keeping your ass nice and high so he can prep you. It's an almost relieving feeling when his thumb slips from your pussy, only to be replaced with two long fingers. You mewl in discomfort, but an intense wave of pleasure runs down your spine when he curls his fingers inside you, scrapes them right against that spot.
An embarrassingly loud squelching sound fills the bedroom as he scissors his fingers into you, stretching you out painfully. It only makes you whimper out louder, squeeze your eyes shut tighter, from not only the pain but the shame of it all.
"Shhh, shut up... S'talkin' to me," Toji says, hushing you all sweet while he defiles you. "Wanna hear what it has to say, baby... Yeah? Missed me? Mm, I can tell when you make those pretty sounds fer me." He talks to your pussy like it's a complete separate entity from you, and something about that is so deliciously degrading.
Toji keeps on filling you with his fingers until he's got three tucked deep inside your cunt, pumping them in and out. Although the friction borders on tortuous, the wetter you get, the more you forget about being sore. When he feels your pussy start to ease up around his fingers, he's quick to pull them out and push your face into the mattress so he can run his tip against your hot, plush lips. "Gonna help you forget, yeah dolly?" he mumbles before burying his cock as deep as it'll go, which isn't much at first.
"T-Toji! Toji, please— mmph!" Your voice is utterly wrecked, begging him for mercy as he just takes what he needs, all to make a fucking point. Your insides stretch around his cock, pushing deeper and deeper into your warmth like he wants to carve out a space just for him. A guttural sigh fills the room, making you shake and whimper— as if you could do anything else.
Toji's free hand presses against your spine cruelly, forcing you into a painful arch so he can reach that one spot. The special spot tucked neatly in front of your cervix, almost like a little pocket he can push the tip of his dick in to keep himself planted deep inside you. When you feel that pop inside your guts, you keen like you're dying. The pressure of it has your pussy gushing down your thighs like a fucking defense mechanism. It's almost as if your body goes into shock when he slides in. To be fair, you do that every time, but it's not often he essentially knots you like this.
Toji stills his hips, gracing you with a few minutes to adjust. To let the anger subside into mindless want, like it always does when this happens. And the same thing will happen again in the future, and you'll let it, because he has you wrapped completely around his finger. Everything about him makes you weak in the knees, you can't help but perk up like a puppy whenever he gives you attention— good or bad— and he makes sure to use that against you. Keeps you nice and honest, right at his feet.
After an all-too-short pause, Toji sets a rough pace to reduce you to a compliant little mess, nodding along with whatever he says as he fucks you harshly into the mattress.
"That's right, baby. You jus' needed some dick to help you think straight. I'm still yers, right? She meant nothin', dolly. None of 'em did," he purrs against your ear, all husky and low. His hand scrambles to your lower stomach and he presses against your womb. "Y'feel me right here? Deeeep in these fuckin' guts, hah..."
He cants his hips forward, pushes impossibly deeper, and you yelp when his full balls slap your clit. The broken groan you let out is motivation enough for Toji to keep it up, ramming his cock into your cervix like he wants to fuck it.
"T—oji! T-T... oh fuck, fuck! Too much! T-too deep!" you squeak, flailing uselessly beneath your boyfriend. Ex? Fuck it, whatever he is doesn't change the fact that he's the best dick you've ever had. The way he's not afraid to use it, the way you can feel it in the back of your throat when he fucks you. Everything about it— about him— is addicting in the most carnal way.
Your pained little moans turn to annoyed grumbles of protest when Toji yanks your hips up and spits right on your exposed asshole, using his thumb to get it nice and slick before slipping it inside. One of your hands shoots back to bat him away but he quickly pins your arm to your back.
"Too much? Already baby?" Toji coos, curling his body down to growl right in your ear. The sound of his voice drowns out the loud slapping of skin on skin while he drives you into the mattress with deep, powerful thrusts. "No no no... I'll say when it's too much. And it won't be enough until I fuck my cum so deep in this pussy I breed it."
The timbre of his voice shakes you to the core, makes your pussy clench pathetically on his cock in a way that makes him laugh. He presses his thumb deeper in your ass and hooks it so he can feel the outline of his dick through the thin wall of flesh.
"No!" you squeak, the strain in your voice makes your cunt tighten, like all the air in your lungs was squeezed out. "C-can't cum inside— aah! Toji! Y-you fucking a-assho—!"
He's fucking brutal, slows his thrusts to a deep, pounding rhythm and cackles when you sob out, pretty face all covered in tears and snot. Toji can't tell if you're scared or desperate at this point, almost positive he's fucked you stupid. He leans over your body, steadies himself with his free hand and pants right against your ear. "Yeah, yeah, baby lemme hear it. I'm the worst, huh? Gonna make a terrible daddy," he growls. His cock twitches against your womb like a lingering threat.
In some ways, you'd seen this coming a mile away. Toji wasn't exactly a good man, after all. You feel him press his first two fingers into your asshole, his thrusts only quickening like he was intent on bruising that special little spot so you feel him agonizingly for weeks after.
"T-To— oh! Tojii! C-can't, nnno— OW!"
Sharp teeth bite at your neck, hard enough to break skin, no doubt. At least leave a bruise or two. While the pain is nearly sobering, the sharp throbbing of it makes your pussy clench tighter, a fact you try to hide by fighting under him again, trapped by his hands, his cock, his teeth.
Feisty bitch, Toji thinks, breathing out grunts more akin to feral growling when he lets his body take control, chasing his release like it's the only thing keeping him alive. His hands fly to your hips to hold you still while pound you into the mattress, forcing out a wail. Creamy slick coats your thighs and Toji's balls as your body succumbs to the pleasure running through your stomach. Your whimpering moans are the only thing Toji can hear, like his head is stuffed with cotton that gets denser as he gets closer.
Toji hardly registers that he's speaking— babbling— to you as he pushes just a little harder, needing moremoremore. His hips slam flat against your ass and you groan so hard you gag. You try so hard to pull away from the bruising force, but Toji snatches your hips flush against his giving you an ounce of reprieve, even if you're stuffed full. When the cock inside you throbs, you're almost giddy to realize it's a reprieve for Toji too. Before a stupid grin can slide across your face, Toji pulls out (much to your pleasure or dismay), only to flip you on your back.
"S'only appropriate that I fuck you like this, right?" he grins, rough hands pinning your knees to your chest in a mean little mating press, before mounting you again. You can feel him impossibly deeper like this, his cock able to reach each and every sweet spot your pussy has until you're gushing around him. Getting his thighs, and his stomach, and the fucking bed soaked.
You can't fight back like this, much less speak, so you sink your nails into his massive shoulders and let the onslaught of pleasure claw its way through your body. Ever perceptive, Toji gives you a wide grin, looking almost crazed. His cock throbs again.
"That's right, baby— fuck. Tha's fuckin' right," he gasps, pounding you with his entire body weight. It hardly feels like he's pulling his cock back at all, just fucking the tip right against your cervix. He slams a hand against the headboard and the wood creaks as it splinters under the force.
"Fuck! Fuckin' pussy's gonna make me lo-se my mind... Yer right there too, yeah?"
You swear you feel Toji falter, his breath catching in the back of his throat like a whine. What you don't know is, Toji took a glance down and had to sink his teeth in his tongue to keep from blowing his load right then and there. A thin layer of blood coats his cock, mixes with the creamy juices leaking from your pussy to make a sticky, pink ring around his base. Bleeding just for him, how sweet.
He can't help but shove a hand between your thighs to pinch at your clit, like it's your fault he's so fucking close already. Then, you're being crushed when he lets his weight falls to his hands, pinning your knees painfully so he can get real close to your ear. Your neck.
A snarl sends shivers down your spine, only to be chased with red hot blood as he sinks his canines into the skin just below your ear. Your entire body flushes to an almost uncomfortable degree, but the sensation is very quickly overshadowed by Toji's pelvis bumping against your clit. His happy trail is abrasive, but at this point your brain can hardly tell the difference between pain and pleasure. You can't even moan anymore. You honestly can't do anything but choke and whine like a little mouse caught in a trap.
"Fff-uck," you wheeze out, trying to get Toji's attention, to plead with him. For what, you're not entirely sure. "T-To— fuck please! Pleasepleaseplease, gonna c—"
"Oh yeah? I know you are, dolly. Can feel you clampin' down on me like that. God, shit! Fuckin' cock slut," Toji growls, moving to leave stinging bites against your right ear before moving to the left. "Can't help but cum at the thought of me breedin' this pussy, huh?"
Just as your cunt tightens, he shoves two thick fingers between your lips just to feel you gag through your ruthless orgasm. The way your entire body seizes beneath him, the way your hole constricts like a vice around his dick does him in. Toji hisses and grunts through his teeth as he fills up your little womb, enough to surely get the job done. And even if it doesn't work, he's always been a persistent person. If at first you don't succeed, and all that.
The sound you make when he puts his crushing body weight on you is somewhere between a broken squeak and a groan. His skin is uncomfortably sweaty against yours and you wiggle in annoyance to try and give him a fucking hint.
"Give me a minute, brat," he grunts, shamelessly nuzzling into your bare chest. His balls haven't even stopped throbbing yet, have some patience. Slowly, his heart stops pounding against you and his panting calms to steady breathing. It puffs against your ear in a way that once soothed you, now it blows straight through you like a husk.
There's brief relief when he finally pulls his weight from you, softening cock slipping from your stinging hole, only to be replaced by disgust when you feel his cum leaks out onto the sheets. You don't move as the mattress shifts— or maybe you can't. Toji pushes himself up with a groan and pads off to the bathroom. It's oddly sobering as you lay there, face towards the ceiling and a puddle of cum seeping uncomfortably into your skin as you listen to Toji piss and clean himself up. A part of you, the largest part, is disgusted at how pathetic you are. Another, shakes with the anticipation of him coming back to cuddle. Maybe even clean you up.
You curl over and swiftly shut your eyes when he comes back into the room, hoping to convince him you're asleep. He plops onto the bed with an obnoxious sigh and throws an arm over you, clumsily shoving his hand between your thighs as if to inspect his work. He tsks.
"Yer wasting it," he gravels, shoving a cum soaked finger past your puffy lips. You squeal and he snickers, pulling away from you to settle into bed. "Knew you weren't asleep."
"Was trying to ignore you."
"Hardly ignoring me if yer puttin' that sloppy pussy on display."
"Go fuck yourself."
He snorts at you and buries his head deep against the pillows, unsurprisingly leaving you to your own devices. After a minute— or thirty— you peel yourself up from the bed and into the bathroom to run a shower. You take in the sight of you in the big mirror as it slowly fogs up. Eye bags, flushed, sweaty face, tears and drool coating your skin. You look down at your cum covered thighs and feel a lump form in the back of your throat.
summary: life has been different since you've been taken to the sanctuary. you're not sure how you fit in here. some may call you one of the wives, but you don't think that's accurate. maybe his pet? his doll? as the days pass, you're not sure it really matters. the distinction doesn't get you any closer to escape.
cw: nsfw (18+), dark fic, smut, dubcon, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), kidnapping/captivity, stockholm syndrome, coercion, forced ddlg/daddy kink, humiliation kink, dacryphilia, violence (from negan, simon, and reader), hurt/comfort sorta
wc: 10.9k (oops lol)
a/n: ermmm... hehe yeah. i've been wanting to write this so i hope someone likes it. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated <3
kinktober slot: day 13 - mindbreak (i think)
"Rise and shine, little lady. We got a lot of things to do today."
Your eyes flutter open, the bright light from the window in front of you broken up by the silhouette of the man at your bedside. The sight of him, even just the outline of his body, sends a nauseating crackle of dread through your bones. It's a feeling you can't verbalize of course - not if you want this day to resemble any sort of pleasant.
"There she is," Negan says, speaking with his signature cadence that made you want to rip out your hair, "How'd you sleep, babydoll?"
"Fine," you rasp as you slowly sit up. The mornings were the only time you could get away with dull answers like that. Any small bit of attitude could be blamed on you being 'cranky' rather than feelings of hatred that hadn't been broken down by this point.
He smiles at you, his rough hand cupping your jaw.
"You're so pretty in the mornings," he mumbles, sweeping a thumb over your pouty bottom lip.
You pause for a second, but so does he. Like he expects a reply. Unfortunately, you know the words he wants to hear. Swallowing the last sliver of dignity you have, you force out the response you'd been trained to say over the last however-long.
"Thank you, daddy."
He grins even wider if that's possible and pats your head. "You're welcome. Now let's get you dressed. Like I said, daddy's got a lot to do today."
You get out of bed and follow him over to the dresser that held your outfit for the day. The chill of cold air bites at your legs as the lack of blankets leaves them exposed. The generator had been out for the past day or so, leaving the Sanctuary victim to the harsh Winter raging outside. You were hoping he'd take that into account when picking your clothes, but you didn't hold out too much hope.
The two of you shuffle around the gray furniture of Negan's room. Even though you'd been in here more times than you could count now, you still marveled at the quality of the chairs and sofa. Items like these seemed luxurious with how the world was outside these walls.
When you reach the dresser, you follow the routine you'd become used to. You peel the small shirt you're permitted to sleep in off and drop it in the basket nearby. Your panties are next to go. You pull the dainty garment down and toss it to the same place as your top.
You can feel his eyes on you with every move you make. They watch how your breasts bounce when freed from their confines. They admire the curve of your ass when you bend over. They glimmer with smug satisfaction as you stand there nude before him.
"I'll tell you what. I never get sick of seeing this," he teases.
You offer a weak smile in return. The lack of energy almost seems to please him more.
He walks around to stand behind you, giving you a light pat on the ass as he does. His hands land on your hips first and then slide up to cup your breasts. He pulls you back, positioning you flush against his chest.
"You know I'd keep you like this all the time if I could," he murmurs in your ear, "Sweet and ready for me. Ripe for the pickin' whenever I felt the need."
The deep, gravelly rumble of it seems to trigger a flicker of heat in your lower belly on instinct, and you despise yourself for it. Shame burns so hot in your heart, it threatens to take the nausea you felt earlier into a full on dry heave. You're glad there's not a mirror in front of you. It's easier to keep a docile look plastered on your face when you don't have to stare yourself in the eyes.
The rough pads of his fingertips pinch and tweak your nipples, causing you to squirm a bit where you're standing, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of a noise. You can feel the warmth of his breath fanning across your neck.
You choose not to say anything to his last statement. There's no guarantee that he hasn't actually considered that, and you don't want to find out. Displaying you in that way in front of everyone doesn't seem like his style, but back when he had you lined up on your knees with the rest of your group, you wouldn't have imagined yourself ever calling him daddy either.
As you'd quickly learned in regards to most things around here, the risk just isn't worth it.
"I'd never do that to you though. Don't think anyone could keep their hands off if they saw all of you, and I just can't have that," he whispers, calming your fears for you. He pulls his hands away from your breasts and steps back to grab the pieces he'd be putting you in today.
He starts with panties. This pair is pink and ruffly just like the last. You step into it with rehearsed timing. One foot then the next. He slides them up to your hips and lets the elastic snap into place against your skin.
You had no clue where he got this shit. You didn't want to believe that his hold on his men was so strong that they'd waste an entire supply run raiding a Victoria's Secret, especially for women they never even got to touch.
It wasn't worth thinking about though. It's not like discovering the origins would spare you from wearing the damn things every day.
Next, Negan shakes the wrinkles out of your dress. You step into that too, just like you did with the underwear. Looking down, you catch a glimpse of the garment.
It's just as humiliating as all the rest he makes you wear. The fabric is bright white and baby pink. Like everything else, you have no idea how it was kept so pristine. The waist is accentuated with a pretty pink ribbon wrapped around it, tied into a large bow at the front. It's extra tight up top and melts into a puffy skirt down below.
He shimmies it over your body and yanks the zipper up in back. The dress conforms to the shape of your figure, leaving little to the imagination in terms of how much the neckline shows and how high the hem of the skirt sits.
Spinning you around, he whistles when he gets the full picture.
"Good God Almighty. Pretty as a picture," he praises, reaching out to pinch your cheek.
Again, you force yourself to smile.
He'd already dressed himself for the day before getting you up, so the rest of the time before you leave the room is spent working through the remnants of your morning routine. He takes you into the bathroom connected to his room to brush your teeth and do your hair.
"Say ah, sweetheart," he smirks before jamming the brush into your mouth.
He's not careful or attentive. He only does it long enough to let the weight of humiliation settle in your stomach. It's always obvious when it kicks in. You get this look on your face like that of an abandoned puppy. Only then does he let you spit and move on to the next task.
He styles your hair into something cute, though you hate it anyway. Like the dress, it's only intended to make you stick out. To draw attention to your status as his possession.
The last thing he does is put your socks and shoes on. Your feet get covered in a pair of frilly ankle socks before he slips a pair of chunky sneakers on you. At least if this place got overrun and you had to bolt, you wouldn't be totally fucked.
"You ready to go, honey?" he asks you when the first part of your torture has finally come to a conclusion.
Again, you nod while looking up at him.
He grins at you. "You're quiet today," he says.
"Sorry, daddy," you respond. The way he said it sounded like teasing, but you could never be too careful.
"Don't be. I like it," he says.
You don't know how he does it, how he deflates you so easily without even trying.
He turns and grabs that stupid bat he carries everywhere, swinging it to his side before facing you again and sticking out his hand.
"Got my two favorite girls, now we're really ready to go," he says. He gestures with his fingers. A small impatient reminder. "You know the rules."
Of course you know what he's referring to. Always hold daddy's hand when you leave the bedroom. One of the rules he'd prattled off to you when he first brought you here.
You reach out and take his outstretched hand, earning a kiss to your head.
The way he'd been holding his arm caused the leather sleeve of his jacket to ride up a bit. Beneath the stiff fabric, you could see the fading scar you'd given him around the same time you'd been informed of the rules. Two crescent shaped marks in the pattern of your teeth.
You can barely stand to look at it now. All it does is bring back memories of when you still held hope for escape or rescue. Back then, you'd thought it'd only be a matter of days until Rick or Michonne burst into the small bedroom they were keeping you in.
The day you'd sunk your teeth into him, he'd just finished giving you one of his speeches about your new life at the Sanctuary. According to him, you'd be so much happier here. Sure you couldn't see your family, but now you had someone better than them. You had him. And he would spoil and take care of a pretty thing like you in the way you deserved. Show off to the rest of your old group how generous he could be.
He'd reached forward to pinch your cheek just like he'd done earlier today. You wanted to smack him away, but he had your hands bound. So you did the next thing you could think of and bit him. Hard.
His eyes burned with fury you hadn't seen since. You can still hear in your mind the way he yelled, shouting "Goddamn it" so loud that the walkers out at the fence probably heard.
After that was a bit hazy. He'd snatched that limb away from you before bringing it back and striking you hard across the cheek. You'd nearly fallen off the bed from the force.
"You little bitch, you try some shit like that again, and I'll knock your fucking jaw loose," he growled before yanking you up right and forcing you to look at him.
Involuntary tears leaked from your eyes as you glared up at his face. Blood oozed from the stinging wound you could feel inside your mouth.
That cut had healed by now though.
You squeeze his hand harder while walking down the hall out of his room. Even though it was the hand that struck you, it was the only thing you had to hold onto now.
Your brain tries to compartmentalize him nowadays. There's Negan, and there's daddy. Negan is the one who gets mean. Negan is the one who yells. Negan is the one who killed your friends. Daddy is the one who cares for you. He keeps you safe and healthy. He'd never hurt you like that. You didn't think you'd survive with a shred of sanity without that distinction.
He feels your little grip and squeezes your hand in return. That's what daddy does.
You stay close to his side as he guides you on the walkway that looks down on the commotion of the main room. Even after what you guessed had been a couple months, if not more, you still didn't like this place. Everything was so transactional. No one cared about each other. It was all about what everyone had to offer. That was by design of course, but it didn't make you any less critical of it.
Your eyes scan the clusters of people below. Although you weren't allowed to socialize on your own, you were starting to get a grasp on the cliques here. Negan's closest advisors all seemed to amalgamate in one area, spare the guy with the burnt face. The table closest to the window was where most of the soldiers ate while the one by the door seated the workers.
You weren't completely sure what class you fit into here.
The most obvious guess would be the group you're about to encounter, Negan's wives. But there are stark differences between you and them that prevent you from feeling camaraderie.
The two of you approach the room where he keeps this group of women. He maintains a tight grip on your hand as you slip through the doors. The disparities between you and the others become obvious as soon as you're within a few feet of them.
All of these women get to dress in black. They stand tall in heels, have earrings dangling next to their faces, and for some, a red tint painting their lips. All of them get to openly glare at him. They don't have to hide their hatred behind a feigned smile or soft laugh.
You know it isn't right to be jealous of them. They're suffering too. This isn't a happy situation for them either. But god, you can't help it. Envy nearly sears a hole through your heart every time you come into this room. What you wouldn't give to be one of them. To be allowed to drink and talk with other people. To not be under the constant threat of punishment.
Despite all these thoughts swirling through your head, you manage to keep your mask on. A simple, thoughtless look on your features as you stand next to him like an oversized accessory.
He looks down at you before dropping your hand.
"Stay right here for me, sweet thing. Daddy's only gonna take a minute," he says.
He stalks off to the back corner of the room with a woman you'd come to learn is named Sherry. They speak in hushed tones, so you can't make out what they're saying. You figure it's about one of the girls sneaking around with some other guy. That's what it's usually about when he makes a stop here with you in tow. Even with their status elevated above yours, they don't get to escape the wrath of his possessiveness.
You stand there awkwardly, arms crossed over your midsection while your weight shifts between your feet. No one tries to talk to you. You can feel their eyes on your pastel form, but their gazes don't hold curiosity or interest. It's pity.
In the beginning, you thought they were looking at you with jealousy. After all, you got your own cell and then graduated to Negan's bedroom while they had to share amenities.
But they weren't naive like you had been. None of them wanted Negan's attention. They didn't want to be his pet or his dolly or whatever the fuck he would classify you as. They had each other, and they got to share the load between all of them.
You sigh quietly and look down at the sparkly trim of your white sneakers.
He finishes his conversation with Sherry and then migrates across the room towards a blonde, crying girl. They speak at the same volume as him and Sherry. It's not worth trying to eavesdrop on.
Instead, you patiently wait the couple minutes it takes for them to finish up and for him to return to you. When he walks back over, you can tell the discussion hadn't been a positive one. His shoulders seem weighed down by whatever information he'd gathered from them.
But the dark cloud above him fades away as his hand slips back into yours. He leads you out of the room just as you'd come in and continues walking with you.
You hesitate but decide to try. "Are you ok?" you ask softly.
His head turns slightly to cast you a look. For a moment, it seems the daddy act has fallen away. He looks at you like he would any other woman who asked him that. Cold. Analytical. But the persona makes its reappearance seconds later as he pulls on a smirk for you.
"Just fine, honey. You don't gotta worry about me," he answers.
You know you should just nod and shut up, but it drives you crazy being led around like a child expected to be seen and not heard. So you decide to try again.
"Did they do something bad?" you ask. You hate how weak your voice comes out. There's no spark to it, no bite or sharp edge. All of that, he'd extinguished in you.
He drops your hand and drapes his arm over your shoulders, pulling you to his side.
"What are you so curious for, huh? You know something about it?" he responds.
You shake your head. Your arm rises and wraps around his torso.
"No. I just don't like when you're upset," you say. You lean your head into his chest to really sell it.
"Oh-ho, look at you. Turning on the charm," he chuckles, "I am just fine, sugar. I swear it. Sometimes those girls give me trouble, but it's nothing I can't handle."
You decide to just take it and nod this time.
He looks at you with satisfaction. "They can't all be like you, y'know? So well-behaved," he praises.
The compliment makes your blood curdle. You couldn't stand that he would act like obedience was your defining trait.
When you were with your group - your family more like - you would never have been described as obedient. Whether at the prison or Alexandria, it felt like every other day you were sneaking off to try something. You were always quick to spring into action, never the type to let someone belittle you. Rick got on your ass about deviating from plans in spurs of emotion more than anyone else. Maybe that's how you wound up here.
You had tried to stop them from taking Daryl. On that dark night in the woods, surrounded by the ring of headlights, you had tried. You didn't rush at Negan like your friend. Not wanting someone else to get their head bashed in, you were more subtle than that. But you attempted to get in the way of the guys carting him off. That's what landed you here. Tucked under his arm, the very weapon that took away two people you love swinging a foot away from you.
But you swallow down all of this rage and nod again. You nuzzle into his chest, a way to conceal the tightening sensation in your throat and the sting of tears at your waterline.
This is the worst part about Negan, you decide. The way he makes you act like you want it.
From your first day here, he made sure to tell you over and over how he's staunchly against rape. He's not a monster. He's not that kind of guy. No, no. You are a prisoner, so yes, technically here against your will, but never in a million years would he violate you in that way.
And he'd stuck true to that. Whenever you screamed or cried or yelled "no" on a loop until he shook you around like a bobble head, he always backed off of his advances. He never copped a feel or slid a wandering hand in your panties while you slept, never held you down or physically forced himself on you.
Instead, he broke you down until saying yes seemed like the only sane option.
You didn't want his affection? That meant you must not want to talk to anyone at all. For days. You didn't want to sit in his lap? Maybe you'd prefer kneeling by his feet for a week, in private and around everyone else. You didn't want to sleep in his bed? Fine. You could sleep on the concrete floor without a pillow or blanket while the heat was out.
You reflect on all of this as the two of you trot through the boxy halls. He takes you around on all his errands for the day. You stop by the doctor's office, inventory, and Dwight's room. All over the place. You stay quiet the whole time. busying yourself with your thoughts as you stay attached to him.
Everyday the line between survival and free will becomes blurrier. You tell yourself that you have to be like this with him. You'll be worse off if you don't act the part of the sweet, adoring girl he wants. But then sometimes you wonder if you truly are becoming obedient. Like a wildcat tamed into a lazy house pet. You almost never resist his touch anymore. You even go to him for comfort sometimes.
The idea kills you, so you deem it best not to think about for now.
Rather, you focus on guessing what the rest of the day would hold. It's already the afternoon by now. The sun hangs low by the tree line, shimmering into the Sanctuary through the rectangular windows across the walls. He wouldn't have a meeting with the lieutenants today. Those were almost always around lunch time. You didn't think he'd spend it with one of his wives either. If that was the case, he usually gave you a heads up in the morning.
The most likely possibility you come up with is the dilemma from earlier. You had never been invited to see the culmination of those though. Normally, he kept you safe and sound in his room while he tended to matters like that, ready to provide him some stress relief when he finished.
But things can always change, and now it seems like that's the case.
He guides you back into the main room. A crowd has gathered down below. You can't see the center point of their conglomeration. All you can sense are the nerves vibrating between everyone.
Their feet shuffle around on the hard concrete flooring. They look between each other with anxious eyes. Hushed chatter clouds the area until you and Negan begin to descend the stairs. That's when they all go quiet. Mouths close and pupils snap to the position of their leader.
You look down to lessen the ache of humiliation that came with accompanying the center of attention. The few times you had scanned the crowd for others' reactions, seeing if you could find a sympathetic gaze or outraged expression, all you found was animosity. The male workers and soldiers leered at you. They smiled and smirked, visibly amused by your girly outfits and docile disposition. On the other side of the aisle, the women glared, taking in the details of your appearance with disgust, like somehow it was your fault you got toted around like this.
His voice booms out to his audience as he takes step after step towards them.
"You all know what we're here for today," he starts, "We got simple rules 'round here, but some people still seem to have trouble following 'em."
Your hand stays linked with his as the two of you reach the landing.
"Watch your step, babydoll," he murmurs to you before continuing his speech. Your cheeks burn with shame.
"It feels like I'm doing this every other month. It's getting ridiculous," he lectures, "I don't like having to be so harsh. Truly, I don't. But rules are rules, and I don't know how I can make myself any clearer. They are not optional."
He walks further into the room with you. Being level with everyone else, you can see more of what's happening. They're gathered around a furnace. Dwight stands near the opening to the flames, clearly preparing something. Another man sits a few feet away. Over in the corner, the woman from earlier is looking at him and crying.
Looks like your guess was correct.
"So we're gonna do this again. Hopefully it's the last time," he concludes.
The crowd parts as you and him head towards the center of the room. He leads you over to an empty spot near the wall. Dropping your hand, he cups your jaw and makes you look him in the eyes.
"Stay right here for me. Daddy'll be right back," he says.
You nod and then watch as he turns away, waltzing over to where Dwight stands.
While your eyes are up, they can't help but catch on somebody familiar standing at the front of the crowd.
Daryl.
Your heart stutters, and you can see on his face that his does too. He looks worn down. Eyes dimmed and face hollowed. His clothes, dirty and ill-fitting. You start to feel tears pricking at your waterline from the sight. You weren't the only one they'd broken down.
In him, you find the compassion you'd been searching for. The look that told you at least one person here didn't take enjoyment from your suffering. But it comes from someone who truly can't help you. Who's in a situation as bad as your own.
You sniffle and try to wipe away any beginning tears before Negan or someone who would tell him notices.
The loud creak of a metal door opening drags your attention to the furnace though. You watch as Dwight pulls out the item he'd been preparing. A burning, metal iron becomes the new focus of everyone in the room.
Upon seeing the small object, so many things connect in your head. You know what's going to happen. You realize why Dwight's face is scarred. You understand why that woman is crying. And you know no one is going to stop any of this now or in the future.
Your heart pounds harder, and your breaths become shaky. Tears blur your vision further. You dig your nails into your palm to try and ground yourself, but it doesn't help. The scene in front of you has whipped your mind into a frenzy. You haven't felt this bad since the early weeks of being in this place.
This stupid fucking place. You hate it. You hate how cruel it is here. How disconnected and lifeless everything feels. You hate him for being the only one allowed to really live. You hate everyone else here for letting him get this powerful.
It's a complete spiral whirlpooling in your mind, only made worse by the fact that you have to keep it contained. You try to tell yourself you just have to wait it out. This couldn't take more than five minutes and then you could go back to the bedroom. You'd be ok. You could take off this itchy dress and put your hair back to how you like it. You could kick off these shoes and hide yourself beneath the warm blankets. None of these people would be around, all you'd have is the quiet between those walls where daddy could make it all better.
As you're in the process of mentally talking yourself down, Negan takes hold of the iron. To free up his hands, he offers Lucille off to someone nearby. Your eyes follow his leather-clad limb to the neck of the bat and then up to its new handler. You see Simon.
You have to look down now. If you don't, everyone here will see the look of pure terror on your face. You close your eyes and rein in whimpers that threaten to spill from your lips. Everything feels fuzzy around you, intangible and like your hands would drift right through them. Your head heats up, the sensation making you dizzy. You try to steady yourself by leaning back against the wall, but the cool, flat surface does little to ease your nerves.
It does even less when you hear his voice closing in on you.
"Hey there, princess," he starts, voice laced with mockery, "You feeling alright?"
You're not looking at him, but the image of his stupid face projects with HD clarity in your mind. You swallow hard and nod.
Laughing lowly, he comes to stand beside you. "You sure about that? You're looking kind of lightheaded," he taunts.
"I'm fine," you choke out.
His hand darts up and grabs your jaw. He doesn't gently guide your eyes where he wants them to look. He yanks your face in his direction like an unruly child with a doll.
"I don't know about that. You're looking kind of rough," he says while glaring down at you with those ruthless eyes, "Maybe I should take you over to the doctor's. We both know Negan wants his favorite toy kept in good condition."
Your entire body vibrates with hatred for this creature. Every breath you take acts as an effort of restraint, a way to lull yourself into not ripping out what hair he has left.
You didn't just despise Simon because he's an asshole or because he was the person harassing your group leading up to that horrible night you were taken. Your aversion for him stems from experiences entirely your own.
A few days after the biting incident, you had tried getting physical with Negan one more time. You'd managed to worm one of your wrists out of your restraints, and instead of aiming for escape, you decided revenge held a higher priority. You waited for him to come check on you, keeping your arm tucked to your body as if it was still bound.
When he finally came in, you sat there and took the speech, took the condescension, and took the promises that you would conform. And then he leaned a bit closer. That's when you backhanded him as hard as he had you the few days prior.
After the hit landed, you lunged forward and tried to wrap the rope connected to you around his neck. You pulled as hard as you could, and for a moment, you thought you had won.
But wrangling you off was easier than you anticipated. They hadn't been allowing you much food or sleep, so the strike took most of your energy. It only took him a handful of seconds to snake his hand under the rope and then pry your arms away.
He stood up and slammed you into the wall with his hand around your throat. In that moment, he didn't look at you with the same fury he had before. This time around, frustration dominated his gaze.
"Was that fun for you?" he asked.
You didn't answer. Your chest puffed with exertion while your eyes stared daggers into him.
"What did I tell you last time? What did I fucking tell you?" he asked. Despite the look in his eye being less volatile, his tone of voice was dangerous as ever. "I told you I would knock that jaw of yours loose. That's what I said, and I meant it. I don't want you thinking I didn't. But I'm not gonna do that right now because I don't think it would work, and I'm not one to waste my own time."
Internally, pride swelled in your chest, thinking you had called his bluff. But then he kept speaking.
"I have a bad feeling that if I struck some sense into you that you'd just try to strike it into me right back, and I can't have that. That's just not gonna fly around here," he said, "So I'll tell you what: I have a better idea. You don't wanna play with daddy? Then you can spend a weekend with your Uncle Simon. See how much fun he can be."
Back then, you didn't know Simon as the right hand man. You didn't have his name and face connected yet. Now, you wished you could go back to that state of mind.
You were with him for three days while Negan did a tour of the outposts and subjugated communities. Only 72 hours. But an hour of him would have been enough to scare you for a lifetime.
When he first came into the room, you didn't get the feeling that him and Negan would handle you so differently. You could tell from the way he looked at you that, like his boss, he looked at you as something to toy with. A source of amusement. The difference, you soon found out, was how they played with their toys.
Unlike daddy, Simon didn't talk just to talk. He didn't warn you of future spankings or timeouts. He hit. And he kicked. And he shoved you down and tossed you around. He didn't offer the same condolences daddy did, there was no "this hurts me more than it hurts you." Nothing he did even bothered Simon. He watched you hurt, and he enjoyed it.
You didn't even get a reward once you'd settled down. Your attitude had disappeared almost instantly. Having the wind knocked out of you once was enough for you to become more amicable, but your change in demeanor didn't phase him. It wasn't his goal.
The only rules Negan left him with were the basic ones for the Sanctuary along with no killing you or causing permanent damage. But that didn't mean he couldn't threaten you with breaking them. He went on and on during the down periods where you cowered in the corner or huddled against the wall of your bedroom cell, telling you stories of how he went rogue before. Any horrible thing he could think of, he dangled in front of you as a potential fate.
When Negan finally came back, you eagerly awaited him. Despite your sleep deprived and bruised condition, your eyes stayed locked on the door like a puppy expecting their master. For the next week, you latched onto him. Didn't want to leave his side. He had made his point. You could hate him as much as you wanted but leave you alone with Simon for a little while, and you'd beg for him back.
That's how you feel right now, staring up into Simon's eyes while he holds your jaw. The pressure his fingers put on your cheeks serve as a reminder of the pain he can inflict while his other hand holding the bat twirls the weapon near your calf. As much as you had been internally preaching your hatred for everything to do with Negan minutes ago, all you want to do now is run into his arms.
You feel more tears wanting to slip down your cheeks, but you try your best to hold them in. The more you cry, the more I like it. That's what he'd told you more than once over those three days.
"Just leave me alone," you tell him. You try to sound as firm as possible, but even your own ears catch the way your voice quivers. "Negan wouldn't like you talking over him."
Your attempt at taking a stand falls flat. He doesn't back off any, rather, he leans in closer.
"Negan, huh? Are you even allowed to call him that?" he mocks and feigns a pout.
"Just shut up!" you say. You mean it as a threat; though, it hits his ears like a plea. More hot panic rushes down your spine from the stress of having to remain quiet while also trying to be assertive.
His lips flatten into a line before he continues speaking. "Your head's getting too big for those shoulders, little girl. You better watch your attitude, or I might have to suggest you're due for some more correction," he mutters.
A loud scream rips the two of you from your conversation. He drops his hand from your face, and you both straighten up against the wall. Negan stands in the center of the room, pressing the blazing iron to the side of the man's face.
He wails until he passes out, and that's when his leader peels away the device of torture. Sticky skin goes with it before snapping back against his face like a rubber band. You grimace, your stomach twisting at the sight. You'd seen so much blood and guts over the years of living out on the road and fighting with other groups, but melted skin was a new one.
Negan turns to Dwight and gives him the iron back. You breathe an involuntary sigh of relief, subconsciously soothed by the thought of him returning to your side.
The reprieve ends suddenly though when a small, sharp pain slices along the meat of your calf. You whimper and lift your leg away on instinct. Looking for the source, you see the bat twirling from the motion of Simon's wrist. One of the barbs had caught your skin. Your eyes flit up to him.
"Watch out!" you say. The old you would have been seething. She would have pulled out her pocket knife and given him a little receipt for the cut. But now, you watch him with fearful eyes, trying to gauge whether or not you would get in trouble for calling him an asshole.
"Remember what I said," he tells you quietly as a trickle of red runs down to the lacy frills of your sock.
Before you can respond, a warm hand lands on the small of your back. Your head turns to find Negan smiling down at you.
"What's with the long face, sugar? Simon bothering you?" he asks, clearly not meaning it seriously even though to you it is exactly that.
You part your lips to answer, but Simon beats you to it.
"Bothering her? C'mon. I'm just checking up on her. She looked a little dizzy, so I offered to take her to the doctor's," he says, light as ever, "I'm just watching out for her, y'know? Sweet thing like her will get eaten alive here if she's not careful."
Negan raises his eyebrows, and for a second, you think he's about to take your side. But then he just chuckles and shakes his head.
"She's doing just fine. That was her first time seeing one of those, so she's probably a little shaken up," he says, rubbing your arm.
"Hm... Sounds about right," Simon replies, "I know that's not how her little group did things."
"Yeah. So I'll get her back to the room. Think you can handle shit down here?" he says, gesturing around to the dispersing crowd.
"Always," Simon says with a mock salute. He then hands Lucille back.
Finally, you find some relief, some true sanctuary as Simon walks away. Your body physically relaxes. Negan feels it underneath his arm and spares you a glance as the two of you walk back up the stairs.
"Is something wrong?" he asks.
You want to just take the easy route and say no, to play along with this sadistic charade and not cause any trouble. But you can't get the single syllable out. It feels impossible to even shake your head. Even though Simon's gone, the weight of everything that happened still remains along with the stinging in your leg.
Your throat feels tight, and your eyes feel like they're two seconds from overflowing. The lights suddenly seem too bright, and everyone here is too loud. You can't show him that though. You don't want more correction. You don't want someone to like it when you cry. But you can't ignore him either. That would be the worst thing to do.
All you manage in response is a shaky shrug. You let out a broken sigh with it and lean into his chest. The tension in your shoulders returns as you fight to keep the tears from leaking out against the worn leather.
At first, he doesn't say anything, and the two of you keep walking. Your steps remain in time with his as you traverse the walkway and around the corner. Then the two of you come to a stop when you're out of sight. He turns you by your shoulders, holding you in front of him so that you can't shy away.
"I got one more thing to attend to out by the fence. Think you can handle that?" he asks.
Your heart pulses to an uneven rhythm, trying to decide what to do without devolving into pure panic. You bite your lip as you mull your options over. Say yes and go with him. Then inevitably fail to contain yourself and get in trouble. Or, say no now and risk punishment for being defiant. You're not sure which one will end up worse.
"Can... can we just go back to the room?" you ask. Your voice comes out weak as if every word siphons a drop of energy from you.
He eyes you with uncertainty of his own; though, there's no fear in his look. His gaze is careful, an attempt to decipher if this is some kind of deception. You'd been pretty well-behaved as of late, but one bad day could take even the most obedient pet to a rabid dog, jaws primed to gnash.
But you didn't really have a reason to lie. The bedroom with him would provide the least likely chance at escape, and in the condition you were in now, you didn't seem to be planning an attack.
Slowly, he nods. "Sure, honey. I'll have Arat handle the other shit," he tells you before leading you in the direction of his bedroom.
The words he mumbles through his radio sound distant to you. You watch your legs switch between one and the other as you walk. On your right, you see the small red splotch staining the pristine cloth of your sock.
Before you know it, he's pushing open the bedroom door and bringing you inside. It then closes behind you, creating a barrier between you and everything else out there. It gets a little easier to breathe.
He guides you the few steps over to the edge of the bed and sits down, pulling you onto his lap. You feel his eyes scanning over you in an attempt to figure out the problem without asking. His hand rubs up and down your back over the crinkly fabric of your dress. His other palm focuses on your legs, coasting over your knees and the area of your thighs the skirt doesn't cover.
The code is harder for him to crack than usual. Normally when you got upset, it resulted from something he said. And he knows that because, usually, that's his intention. It was always either that or you'd just generally be feeling down, missing your home. But that doesn't seem to be the case right now. You seem more antsy than your normal bouts of sadness. He doesn't think it was from watching the spectacle downstairs. He knows you hate the saviors indiscriminately. Watching some random guy's face melt off wouldn't have you this upset. Finally, he relents.
"What's wrong?" he asks. He actually makes an effort not to sound like he'll make fun of whatever your answer may be.
"I just don't feel good," you choke out and bite your lip.
He feels you shudder on his lap, and he knows it's not the full truth. Pulling you a little closer on his thighs, he continues to look down at you.
"C'mon, baby. Tell daddy what hurts," he coaxes.
Your face tenses, but you know he won't drop this. "Just... just... I don't know. A lotta stuff," you say. You couldn't decide on a lie to commit to.
He sighs and bounces his leg with you on it a few times. "Did someone say something to you? Was someone bothering you?" he asks as his scope of potential causes narrow.
You're in the middle of trying to think of a cover story when his hand glides down to remove your shoes. He knocks one off. Then the other. The foamy white sneakers clatter to the ground next to his foot.
He goes to bring his hand back up, dragging it over the fine threading of your socks, but his eyes catch on the bloody splotches near the edge. Grabbing your ankle, he tugs your limb upward. It puts you at an awkward angle and nearly knocks you from your perch on his thigh. He stares the small wound down, assessing every detail of the tiny scrape.
"How'd you get this?" he asks. He looks over to you.
In reality, it may have been the most standard question in the world. But it hits your ears like an accusation and brings a fresh wave of tears that you can't control. Your lip quivers as your lids blink a few droplets over your water line.
"Simon did it," you weep.
You're scared he won't believe you, but after a few seconds, he drops your foot and pulls you close. His arms wrap around you tight and keep you flush against his chest. The warmth of the embrace encompasses you. You let the dam burst and cry into him, pouring all your sadness out against his body.
His hand sweeps up and down your back in comforting strokes. "Shh, shh, shh, sweetheart. Daddy's got you," he murmurs.
You feel him shrug off his jacket and push it aside, leaving the plain material of his t-shirt to soak up your anguish. He keeps you as close as possible. One of his hands cradles the back of your head to ensure you don't pull away.
"Does Simon bother you a lot?" he asks.
You nod. "Whenever I'm not with you," you choke out.
He hums in acknowledgement. "I'll talk to him. He's not supposed to hurt you when you're being such a good girl for daddy."
"I was trying really hard," you sob, your voice cracking, "I've been trying to be good. But he just hates me anyway. He's so mean to me."
Your arms snake around him as tight as a pair of snakes aiming to kill. You cling to him with everything you have, as if he's your one true savior from this living hell and not the cause of it.
In your head, you feel like you're annoying him. He's probably waiting for you to calm down, so he can nip this blossom of resentment in the bud. Good girls don't have tantrums or meltdowns, right? And all he cares about is that you act the part of a good girl.
But you only think all of that because you can't see the smile on his face right now.
He's grinning more than any of the times he got you to say something humiliating or cooperate with a punishment. The look he displays now reaches a new level of smugness, higher than the night he killed two of your people and traumatized the rest of them. His satisfaction runs deeper this time because right now, you're truly broken.
This isn't something you agreed to because the other option was worse. It's not something he had to coach you into or manipulate a situation into becoming. You did this all on your own. You came to him. Sure, he had to coax it out of you a little bit, but once he got his foot in the door, you let him right in. You're clinging to him for comfort, looking to him for a solution. He couldn't be more pleased. This is exactly what he wanted - to break you down. Now he just had to reel you back in the slightest bit, get you in that perfect middle ground between too independent and non-functioning.
"You have been doing really good for me, y'know? I'm proud of you, baby," he tells you in the most earnest tone he can manage, "Don't worry about Simon for right now, ok? Daddy's gonna set him straight. He won't bother you again."
You nod, but the reassurance doesn't stop the flow of tears from your eyes. Your fingers stay clenched around the fabric of his shirt.
"No more tears, honey, c'mon," he coos. He pries your limbs from around him and boosts you to your feet, standing you between his thighs. "I'll take care of it just like I take care of you. Let's just worry about what my little baby needs to feel better right now."
You take a few seconds to think about it, but the answer comes with relative ease. The most agitating thing about this situation right now is wrapped all around you, scratching at your sides and digging in under your arms.
"Can you take my dress off?" you sniffle.
His eyes fall from your face over your body. "What? You don't like this pretty little number?" he teases.
For once, you don't feel like you're two seconds away from punishment. You feel like it's a joke, and you don't have to awkwardly straddle the line between playing along with the humor and submitting to the literal interpretation.
"It's ok... it's just kinda scratchy," you say and wipe away your tears with the back of your hand.
"Spin around for me then. We'll get it off you. Can't have it irritatin' that soft skin while you're tryin' to relax."
You take the few steps to turn around. His fingers grasp the zipper and undo the baby pink prison you'd been trapped in for the day. Feeling the chafing fabric pulled away from you lets you take a real breath for the first time in hours. Already a small bit of relief. It only compounds when the garment hits the floor and pools at your feet.
He tugs you back by the waist and lays you across the bed, body on full display for him. Right now, you don't mind his gaze tracking your curves. He leans over you, his hands coasting from the sides of your breasts down to your hips.
"You're prettier like this anyways, princess," he praises.
"Thank you, daddy." It spills out as naturally as water from a faucet.
He rewards you with his lips on your stomach instead of words. Kissing the smooth, warm skin, his lips travel from just above your navel to the divot between your breasts. Your nipples rise to attention automatically.
His hands slide up to cup your mounds of flesh. He fondles and gropes them as his lips migrate up the curves to the hardening little peaks. They don't latch on just yet. He teases them with kisses instead, letting the anticipation of blissful suction build.
You take your lip between your teeth as you watch him. Chills break out across the rest of your body. You know you should be fighting. You know you should kick and scream and cry. You should try to take advantage of his closeness and get towards your revenge. But in your hellish life, are you not allowed one moment of pleasure? You haven't let those plans of escape and vengeance go, but you want this right now. You want to feel good, and he gives you that.
This isn't Negan. This is daddy. And you don't wanna hurt daddy.
His tongue peeks out from between his lips to trace wet circles around your nipple. The sensation draws a whine from you. Your body squirms beneath him with an eagerness to feel more.
"I think I know how to make you feel better. Take your mind off all that stuff from before," he whispers.
He takes one of your nipples between his lips, flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue and scraping his teeth against the sensitive area. You reward the choice with a mewl and squirm your legs. He chuckles and then switches to the other one.
"That feel good?" he asks.
You nod, your head tilting back and your eyes fluttering.
Grinning, he continues his work on your chest. You whine and squirm for him, giving him all the reactions he craves. Soon, his hand ghosts up your inner thigh. His fingertips drag over the flesh and land on your clothed center. Through the thin pink cloth, he rubs at your clit. That garners a breathy moan and a full body shudder.
"Goddamn, you are so cute," he chuckles, "Just a few little touches and you squirm around like a virgin for me."
Heat floods your cheeks, but you don't bother disputing the claim. It was the truth. You weren't sure what it was about him that got you so amped up and needy.
The pad of his middle finger swirls around the little nub in your panties. He can already feel the fabric getting sticky from the wetness between your thighs.
"Poor baby. You're so easy to play with," he says.
His mouth leaves your breasts now and begins to retrace its path down your stomach. It glides over your skin with open-mouthed kisses all the way down to the hem of your underwear. His fingers fall away from your center to your dismay.
Your disappointment is short lived though. You feel him position your thighs on his shoulders. When you look down, his eyes are staring right back up at you, gleaming like that of a panther ready to pounce.
"You want daddy's mouth on you? Will that help you feel better?" he rasps.
You nod quickly. "Please, daddy," you whimper.
"So polite. You didn't even need me to remind you of your manners," he smirks.
You don't even care about that remark. It washes right over you. All your mind is concerned with right now is getting more of his touch.
He brings his index finger back between your legs. He hooks it beneath the soaked seat of your panties, pulling it to the side and revealing your slick folds to him. The thumb on his opposite hand comes up to rub over the length of your slit up to your clit. Back and forth, nice and slow, just to tease you.
Your hips writhe the slightest bit, and he nips the skin of your inner thigh.
"Tsk. You know good girls are patient. They don't wriggle around. I've taught you better than that," he chides.
"Sorry," you say, backing down quickly.
"It's alright. I know you're having a rough day, so I'll let it slide this time," he says. He then leans in to lay some kisses on your clit.
Your eyes roll back and your toes curl. He never let things slide. This must have been a miracle. The same man who always toted that the rules weren't optional, letting you bypass one? Maybe you were his favorite. That's what you took it as anyways.
He makes out with your cunt like it's the prettiest thing he's ever seen. His lips engulf it, spreading his affection from your little bundle of nerves all the way down, nearly reaching your puckered entrance below. You whine and clutch at the bedsheets. You were still too scared to grab his hair. You weren't sure if he'd like it and groan or glare at you in a way that said you'd pay for it later.
It doesn't matter to you right now though. What you hold isn't important when you feel this good. It feels like a firework show is erupting in your belly, bright bursts of all different colors. Your heels dig into his back, subconsciously keeping him buried between your thighs.
He's tempted to tear your panties off and fling them aside. He would if not for the limited number in his possession. If this was normal life, he'd rip a pair to shreds on a weekly basis. These things were so cute when he put them on, but when he wanted at you, he despised them. If this was normal life, he'd just buy you new ones whenever a tattered one had to be tossed. But then again, if this was normal life, he wouldn't have you at all, so it isn't really worth thinking about.
Refocusing his mind on your pleasure, he dives further into your cunt. His nose bumps your clit as his tongue fucks into you. He pushes it in a few times before pulling back and just lapping at your pussy in broad strokes, getting every drop of you he can. Two of his fingers prod at your entrance before slipping in. They fuck deeper than his tongue, but don't stretch you out like his cock. A happy medium to walk the steps of preparation.
He maneuvers his digits with expert precision, scissoring and curling them at the perfect intervals. You can't help the way your hips buck in response. He doesn't get on you about it though. He just wraps your arms around his hips and holds you in place.
Your thighs squeeze around his head too. Luckily, that wasn't against the rules. He loved feeling the heat of your plush legs wrapped around his skull, keeping him close.
He pumps his fingers faster, curling them right against that spot that got you to squeal and cry out his name.
"Cum for me, babydoll. All over my face. I wanna feel it," he rasps.
It's a fortunate coincidence he gives you that command because you were about two swipes of his tongue away from doing it on your own. You melt against the bed, eyes fluttering and body jerking and quivering as rushes of pleasure sweep through you.
Your fingers grip the blankets so tight they threaten to tear into them, but then they loosen completely and go lax next to your hips. He licks your cunt through the entire thing, not letting you come down until the euphoria has thoroughly washed through you.
While you're lying there, dazed and blissed out, he untangles himself from your legs and stands at the edge of the bed. He wipes your nectar from his facial hair before pulling his shirt over his head and unzipping his pants.
"I think daddy deserves a little reward for making you feel so good, pretty girl. What do you say?" he asks.
Of course, you nod. There was no way you would reject him while still so close to the high of your last release. He grins at your hazy movement and shoves down his pants, jerking his cock a few times and crawling on the bed to hover over you.
"You're such a good girl for me. Better than I ever thought you'd be," he says while looking down at your face.
"Wanna be good for you, daddy," you say softly, blinking at him with your misty doe eyes.
His grin spreads even wider. In your sane mind, you probably would have thought it looked like some creature out of hell. But right now, the look just makes you giggle and squirm.
Down below, he lines up at your entrance. He slides his tip through your arousal a few times, getting it nice and wet before he sinks in. A smile of your own rises on your face, and he groans at the deep satisfaction of having your cunt embrace him so readily.
"Perfect little pussy, fuck," he grunts, "Think it's the best I've ever had."
You preen at that compliment. He balances his forearms on each side of your head as he begins to thrust. Your legs rise up and lazily wrap around his waist, which he loves. He can't get enough of the fact that you want him, that you're pushing him deeper and not letting him pull out too much.
His head falls beside yours, letting you hear every pant and grunt that falls from his lips. Your walls squeeze around him every so often. The noises make your tummy flutter for him. It drives you wild to know you brought him to such a state of lust.
"Christ, you're so fucking tight," he mumbles.
You giggle again and drape your arms around his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. You just get lost in the feeling of him inside you, his cock battering all your sweet spots just right. He leans in and kisses at your neck. His hips pump deeper, ramming his shaft further into the warm depth of you.
In this moment, everything feels so good and pure. You can't even imagine any of the pain he inflicted on you before. It all feels like a distant dream. Memories that belonged to someone else, not you. At this second, it feels as though this bliss will last forever. Just you and him tangled in the throes of passion without a concern for anything else happening beyond the privacy of his room.
When you open your eyes, they're a little watery from all the stimulation and how good it feels mixed with your saccharine thoughts. You arch off the bed a few inches, pushing your pert breasts against the warmth of his chest. He pushes you back down with ease, keeping you angled exactly where he wants you.
Pulling back a little to look at your face, he smiles when he sees the water gathering in your eyes.
"Oh, those are the tears I like to see," he croons.
You moan, a little shiver coursing through you. It only encourages him to pound his hips harder against you, in and out, in and out, until you're both approaching the edge.
"You gonna cum again for me, sweetheart? Show daddy how good he's making you feel?" he murmurs.
"Yeah, mhm, ah-" you whimper, "I wanna cum daddy, wanna cum for you."
"I know you do," he chuckles, "I can feel it."
Your cunt contracts and releases around him with increased frequency now. He knows you're moments away from reaching the peak. Swiveling his hips, he tries to strike that chord and bring you crashing down.
You whimper, the pitch getting higher as the glass gets closer to shattering. Finally, with one good jerk of his pelvis, you tense up and cry out. A couple tears trickle from your eyes. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades.
Your body trembles and rolls with the feeling. He fucks you through it, savoring every delicious squeeze of your cunt around him. A few breathless groans rumble out of him. He gets every last second in your hole he can before he has to pull out.
He snaps his hips back, replacing the tightness of your pussy with his hand. It's not the same, but it will do. He gives it a few quick strokes before he explodes and spills on your belly. You lift your head and watch as the ropes of hot, sticky cum land on your skin.
His hips jerk with each surge of release firing from him. When he finishes, his head hangs, and he takes a moment to catch his breath. He scoots off of you and cools down beside your body on the bed. It's quiet for a few moments; though, he's never one to be vulnerable, so he doesn't let the silence linger for too long.
"You feeling better?" he asks and rotates his head to look at you.
You nod, visibly more relaxed than before.
"Thank you, daddy," you say, sweet as can be, before leaning in and pecking his lips.
He stares at you for a few moments in fond satisfaction. Then he gets up, and pulls you to your feet with him.
"C'mon. Let's get you cleaned up," he says.
You follow obediently to the bathroom where he wipes you off with a damp rag and makes sure you're all set to get some rest after. Both of you make your way to the dresser next. He pulls another set of those panties out and slips you into them. They don't feel so horrible this time around, but in the back of your mind, you're sure that won't be the case tomorrow morning. A soft, thin shirt covers your upper body next. It's the same baby pink color as the dress, but you don't mind since it's much more comfortable.
On your own, you tuck yourself to his side for the short walk back to the bed. He climbs in first and then tugs you into your spot next to him.
"I want you to try and get some rest," he tells you, stroking down the side of your face, "When you wake up, I'll get you something to eat, but for now, I want you to take a nap, ok?"
You aren't particularly tired, but while living here, sleep has become your greatest method of escape. You never reject a chance at it. The only thing is, right now, you don't really want to escape. You don't feel a horrible gnawing sensation from being so close to him.
However, you agree anyways because daddy knows best for you, and you don't want to make him upset.
You lie your head on his chest and snuggle up to him. He holds you close, rewarding the compliance by rubbing your back.
"Sweet dreams, babydoll," he murmurs.
You shut your eyes, allowing your mind to recede into visions of the life and people you had before this. The life you still hoped one day you would get back, even as it became more and more like a fantasy rather than a realistic future.
cw: explicit smut, infidelity (married Nanami fucks reader), risky phone call during sex (wife hears), rough sex, creampie, being kento’s dirty little affair.
The ring on Nanami’s finger felt like a noose.
His thick cock slick against your wet pussy, one hand clamped over your mouth to muffle the moans he knew you couldn’t hold back. His phone buzzed on the desk—her name lighting up the screen for the third time in ten minutes. He didn’t even glance at it.
He straightened up, both hands gripping your hips now, yanking you back onto him with punishing force. The phone buzzed again. This time he reached over, thumbed it to speaker without breaking rhythm. “Kento? Where are you? You said you’d be home by nine—” His wife’s voice sounded tired and frustrated. He fucked into you harder making your body jolt forward with every thrust. Your tits bounced against the cool wood of the desk.
“I’m working,” he said flatly into the phone, voice perfectly even even as he railed. “Told you. Paperwork. It’s taking longer than expected.”
“Are you serious?” she snaps. “You’ve been ‘at the office’ every night this week. Do you even care that we’re fighting? That I’m sitting here alone while you—” Another thrust, harder this time as the desk creaks. “I care,” he says evenly. “I’m just… busy.”
“Busy,” she repeats, bitter. “You’re always busy. You don’t even look at me anymore. You come home, shower, sleep on the couch. We haven’t had sex in months, Kento. Months. Do you even miss me?”His rhythm falters for half a second. “I’m handling it,” he says, voice tighter now. “We’ll talk when I get home.”
“No. We’re talking now. You’re hiding something. I can hear it in your voice. Are you with someone? Is that why you’re never home?”
You clench around him on reflex. He hisses through his teeth. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, but his hips snap forward—harder, punishing. The slap of skin on skin is unmistakable now. There’s a long silence on her end. “…What was that noise?”
You can’t help it—a soft, muffled moan slips past his fingers. Kento freezes—cock buried to the hilt, unmoving. You whine—frustrated, needy—and push back against him, grinding your ass into his hips, forcing him deeper. The motion drags a low groan out of him.
“Kento?” Her voice rises. “What the hell is going on? Are you—?” You reach back blindly, grab the phone from his hand, and jab the end call button.
The line goes dead. Silence. Then Kento’s hand shoots out—snatches the phone back, slams it face-down on the desk so hard the screen cracks. “What the fuck did you just do?” he hisses. You twist to look at him over your shoulder—eyes glassy, lips swollen. “She was gonna figure it out. You froze. I fixed it.”
His jaw clenches. “You don’t get to decide that.”
You push back again but he stops you clearly angered with you now. “You think this is a game?” he growls. “She’s my wife.”
“And you’re fucking me in your office while she waits at home,” you shoot back. “Don’t act noble now.” His fingers dig in bruising you. Then he yanks you back onto his cock—once, twice—hard enough to make you gasp.
“You’re going to hell,” he growls, fingers tightening on your throat.“So are you,” you gasp. “You’re still fucking me while she waits at home.”
“You don’t touch my phone,” he said demanding. “You don’t hang up on my wife.” He pulls out abruptly—slow enough to make you whimper at the loss—then flips you onto your back so fast the room spins. Your legs fall open automatically; he steps between them, gripping your thighs hard enough to leave marks.
“She’s going to keep calling,” you say quietly, chest heaving.
“I know.”
“You going home to her?”
“Obviously she’s my fucking wife.” The words land like a slap. You stare up at him—his tie crooked, shirt half-unbuttoned, cock still hard and glistening with you. The ring on his left hand catches the desk lamp again.
“Then go,” you whisper, voice cracking just a little. “Go home to her. Tell her you were working late. Tell her you miss her. Tell her you haven’t fucked anyone else.”
He doesn’t move, instead he leans down bracing one hand beside your head, the other gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “I don’t miss her,” he says, half truth-half lie. “I don’t fuck her. I don’t even think about her when I’m inside you.”
You swallow hard as he drags the head of his cock through your folds coating himself in the mess he already left. “But you—” His voice drops lower. “You make me lose control. You make me answer the phone while I’m making love to you. You make me want to stay here instead of going home to a bed I don’t even sleep in anymore.”
He pushes back in slowly inch by inch watching your face the whole time. You wrap your legs around his waist pulling him deeper. “I hate you,” you moan, “I hate that I love you. I hate that I’ll let you do this to me again tomorrow.”
His hand slides up caressing your face as his thrusts quicken. His soft lips moving agasint yours. “I’ll leave her,” he murmurs against your lips. “I promise. After the merger closes next month. I’ll file. We’ll do this right. Just… give me time.” Empty promises, you’ve heard them before. But you nod anyway—clinging to him, thighs shaking, pussy fluttering around his cock.
He fucked you harder until you were both gasping, sweating, the desk rocking dangerously. Your pussy spasming violently, gushing slick around his cock, soaking his balls and the desk as your back arched off the wood.
Kento followed seconds later cock pulsing thick ropes of cum deep inside you, flooding your pussy until it leaked out in creamy rivulets down your thighs and onto the floor beneath.
The phone buzzes once more—face-down, cracked, ignored. Then it rings. Her name flashes on the shattered screen. Kento tenses still inside you. “Don’t,” you whisper, gripping his arms. “Not yet.”
He exhales sharply and reaches for it anyway. Answers without speaker this time. “What?” he snaps—voice harsher than you’ve ever heard it with her.
Her voice is loud enough you can hear the edge of hysteria. “Kento, what the hell? You hung up on me? I’m coming to the office. Right now. We’re talking about this face-to-face. If you’re with someone—”
“I’m coming home!” he yells—sudden, furious—yanking out of you so fast you whimper at the loss. “I said I’m coming home. Stay there.”He hangs up—slams the phone down again.
You sit up—legs dangling off the desk, cum leaking onto the wood—as he stuffs himself back into his slacks, zips up with sharp, jerky motions. “Kento—”
He doesn’t look at you. Just reaches down and yanks your skirt back into place, smoothing it like nothing happened. “Get dressed,” he says flatly. “Go home. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
You stare at him—chest aching, eyes stinging. “Tomorrow,” you repeat softly. “After you fuck her to make up for tonight?”
He freezes—back to you. Then he turns, grabs his coat. “Tomorrow,” he says again as the door clicks shut behind him. You sit there alone in the dark office—skirt wrinkled, thighs sticking to the desk.
He doesn’t love her. But he doesn’t leave her either. And you hate him a little more every time. But you’ll be back tomorrow anyway.
stupid ass tumblr flagged take it slower, make you lose control and now i cant even find it anymore ive emailed them so lets have our fingies crossed it comes back
now i aint never played love and deepspace but the characters are hot and ive seen a good chunk of gameplay SO LET ME INDULGE OK
sylus looks like hed pop a boner anytime u use his card to buy urself stuff 🤷 like he gets a notification from his bank account and boom immediately hard
it doesnt even have to be something sexy like toys or lingerie like u can buy urself lunch and hes jus instantly turned on idk idk idk IDK THIS MAN GET HIM AWAY FROM MEEEEE
content: bottom!geto, top!gojo, missionary, ass eating, anal, gojo loves getting his hair pulled, geto inexperienced with gay shit, gojo is obsessive, love confessions, first kiss, au of some kind idk, college au but still in jjk universe?
words: 5.2k
ko-fi
!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
best friends can fuck, right? and it's totally normal. like... it doesn't change their relationship or anything, right? at least, that's what geto is telling himself to get through the week
part 2 to take it slower, make you lose control
• • •
Geto doesn't exactly know what he expected after the first time. A part of him expected things to be awkward on both ends, but Gojo has an endless well of shamelessness that protects him from any less-than-desirable social situations. Must be nice. It hasn't even been long since he took his virginity— second virginity? The semantics aren't important enough, but Geto can't help but cling onto every single detail of that night. How nervous he was, how he and Gojo fell into an almost natural rhythm, like their shared desire took over and led them by the hand. How the whole room quickly filled with the scent of sex and sweat. How the lights shattered and exploded around them when Gojo finally came.
Geto would later find out from Shoko that the entire school lost power thanks to them. And he's sure she noticed the bright red blush that crept across his face before he excused himself under the guise of "studying". Ever perceptive, Shoko knows. Hell, everyone knows. If Gojo's big, yearning, puppy dog eyes weren't a dead give away, then the blatant flirting was. Not to mention Nanami made sure to lament to Shoko about their late night excursions because he shares a freaking wall with Gojo.
All this to say, Geto feels like he's walking on a fine line between remaining as calm as possible, and totally succumbing to the anxiety-induced heat he feels whenever Gojo is near. It's like every hair on his body stands on end when he catches him staring, and it's reducing him to an utter mess. He feels 16 again, drooling at the sight of pretty, unattainable idols in their flouncy, doll-like dresses. He's always been a sucker for pretty things, and Gojo is nothing short of a porcelain doll. All pale skin and delicate white lashes that frame his eyes like glittering snow.
That's the real dilemma. Geto has always been fond of Gojo— duh— but after that night, it's so glaringly different that it's jarring. It's one thing to admire a friend for their strength, integrity, and admittedly good looks. It's another to fuck them and like it. It may not even be the most wild thing in the world; truly, there are far bigger things Geto could agonize over, so why can't he? It was a one time thing, so why can't he let it go? In some defensive way, he blames Gojo and his enthusiastic willingness to do it again.
He paces around his dorm room, finger nails bitten to the quick despite the taste of old nail polish in his mouth. It's a little past midnight, and no matter how often he glances over at the clock, time ticks on at a snail's pace. Gojo typically goes to bed around 3am, and Geto has been avoiding him like the plague, so he forwent dinner to save himself. Now, he's starving, cranky, and tired, but the thought of even maybe bumping into Gojo makes his stomach twist into knots.
Eventually, he groans to himself. He's being stupid. Gojo is his best friend for gods sake, and he can't ignore him forever. So, with a deep breath, he gently pulls his door open and peeks out. Seeing a clear coast, he tiptoes his way towards the common area to snag a cup of instant ramen. It's dark, and he really should have been using his phone's flashlight because the second he rounds a corner, he slams into something solid.
"Fuck me!"
It wasn't even rock hard, just completely unmoving. Geto pulls back, rubbing his forehead and hissing, when he hears a voice that makes him jump out of his skin.
"What are you doing up so late, Sugu~?"
Gojo flicks on a light and Geto's eyes widen when he sees just how close he is, not that Gojo has ever known anything about personal space. He tries to open his mouth to speak, but no words come out, just a slew of stammering that Gojo grins at as he gets closer.
"Can't sleep? Bad dream? Wanna have a sleepover?" he rapid-fires, wiggling his eyebrows because he's childish. Geto's cheeks flush and he takes a step back, a notion Gojo pointedly ignores.
"Ah-- no, I'm ok," Geto says, backing up again. "Like... I know you don't sleep a lot."
Gojo stubbornly takes another step forward, essentially pinning Geto to the counter, and pouts. "C'monnn, it'll be funnn. Promise I'll be good," he whines, knowing he'll get his way eventually. Geto cracks too easily for his own good. And even though he knows there isn't an ounce of good behavior in Gojo's body, he can't stop from nodding. Gojo's face splits into his signature, wide smile.
"Lead the way."
It takes Gojo exactly zero time to pin Geto down to the bed the second the dorm's door clicks shut behind them. He latches onto Geto's neck with his teeth like he simply can't help himself, before soothing the bite with kisses when his friend mewls in discomfort.
"Y'room is real cute, Sugu," Gojo says, knowing damn well he didn't even pretend to look around before pouncing on him. He moans when Geto reaches up, flustered and wide-eyed beyond belief, and grabs a fist full of white hair to yank him away from his sensitive neck. Gojo's lips are shiny with spit, and he's looking down at Geto like he wants to devour him whole. If only he knew the extent of his yearning. He wants to give Geto everything. He wants to live inside him forever. Fuck, he'd give him all the blood in his body right now just to be able to flow through his veins. His heart.
"Lemme fuck you."
It's so breathy and strained, like Gojo is pleading for it, and Geto nods with a hum, desperately tangling his fingers in soft hair. How can he do anything else when his cock is trapped and weeping to feel his touch again? Gojo had completely ruined him after the first time. He can't make himself cum like that on his own, and even when he tries, it just feels like he's edging himself, dreaming of fucking his best friend again.
"Y-yes... please."
The way Gojo's face lights up makes Geto cringe and curl in on himself. But Gojo grabs his face to force eye contact. "God, you're so cute," he hums, dragging his slender nose up the column of Geto's throat. He's clumsy as he pushes those baggy sweatpants down tanned thighs, hands shaky with anticipation. It's tempting to leave the fabric bunched up around Geto's knees so his legs can't part, keeping him nice and tight and immobile for Gojo, but he begrudgingly decides against it (this time anyway). He tosses the pants— and boxers, the impatient bastard— to the side and crawls over his body so his hips slot right between plush, meaty thighs.
Geto's mind is reeling. Everything is happening so fast that he can barely keep up. Thankfully, he has enough remaining brain cells to pull off his own shirt, then paw at Gojo's clothes because it's unfair being the only naked one here. He doesn't get very far with his silent request when Gojo grabs his cock and strokes it. He grins like an idiot when Geto sucks a breath in through his teeth and whines.
"So wet already, baby~" Gojo hums, greedy to say the least, tapping his fingertip against the precum already beading from his slit, just to pull away and watch as a silvery thread connects the two of them. His eyes are intently watching, nearly sparkling with fascination at every twitch Geto's cock makes, and how it inadvertently forces his hole to squeeze around nothing.
"Shut up!" Geto chastises, his blush only deepening. "Saying that like I'm a girl— I'm not a fucking girl."
Gojo lets out the prettiest laugh and flips him over, presses a hand down on his spine to bend him into a revealing arch. A simple display of strength that makes Geto's metaphorical tail wag.
Gently, Gojo reaches up and wraps his fingers around his hair tie.
"No?" he asks, teasing. He slowly pulls at the tie until Geto's raven hair splays against the pillowcase like a silky curtain. "Coulda fooled me. Built like one, look like one," he leans down to his ear and bites at the shell, "Can take cock like one, too."
Geto turns his face into the pillows and groans in humiliation. He really should be more disappointed in himself for, once again, succumbing to Gojo and his big, stupid, pleading eyes, but every single thought in his head comes to a screeching halt when he feels something wet and warm drag between his cheeks.
"Satoru!" he yelps, nearly clawing up the bed to get away from his friend's tongue. He didn't even notice the bastard had shimmied his way down the bed, too focused on the shame boiling in his face. "God, you're so nasty! Fuckin' perv, can't believe you would— hey!"
Gojo snatches him by the waist and tugs him back down, just short of growling at him. He sinks his teeth into one squishy cheek and gives the other a playful slap as punishment. A silent 'stay'.
"Oh c'mon," he says, voice all husky. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, already drooling like a dog. "Gotta open you up."
And it's not like Geto can really argue with him, not when Gojo presses against his spine till his chest hits the mattress and pins him like a bitch. He can't see, but Gojo beams like a kid on Christmas, ready to tear into a box of candies. He lets spit dribble from his lips onto the cute hole in front of him. It twitches on reflex and he can't help but give it a sloppy little kiss. His tongue follows immediately, laving across the tight hole in long, languid licks.
"Ain't so bad, right?" he asks. It's taking every iota of willpower to not just fuck his tongue into him, keeps reminding himself that Geto isn't used to this. Geto coughs a little, and rolls his head around the pillow. "Hah... It's ok. F-feels good," he mumbles, eyebrows furrowing further when Gojo hesitantly pushes the very tip of his tongue past the tight ring. He pulls away just as soon, and a wet clicking sound fills the room as he builds a steady rhythm, alternating between fucking and licking.
It's harder to relax this time, Geto realizes. Having fingers in his ass is one thing— shit, he tried it himself one time when he was drunk— but a tongue? It's way too intimate.
Gojo hums a little and licks a stripe from the very edge of his balls to his hole before pulling away. He leaves a kiss at the base of his spine, hoping to comfort the man below him, who trembles with each movement.
"Somethin' the matter? You're tense," he says, voice all soft and patient. Another kiss, this time to Geto's right cheek. "We can stop, y'know?" Well, to be fair he kinda jumped his bones the second the door closed.
Geto lets out a breath and hesitates. Apparently, he waits too long before Gojo is climbing over him to leave a kiss on his neck. Even nuzzles his hair, only to breathe in the sweet lavender scent of his conditioner. He keeps his hands on those plump hips though, just letting his thumbs massage and soothe the skin there.
"God, no," Geto says, reaching back to grab a fistful of Gojo's hair again to keep him right where he is. His fingers tremble. "Just... j— maybe slow down." And suddenly, he's overwhelmingly nervous that he somehow offended Gojo, or killed the mood or something, but the taller man just chuckles, soft and coquettish.
"Yeah, baby. I can do that," he purrs, leaning over again to kiss a soft, barely there trail down his spine. "Mh, y'know I can get greedy sometimes. Just gotta tell me what you need 'n I'll listen." He's basically speaking into Geto's skin, unable to pull his lips away for even a second when he reaches his ass again. Can hardly blame him for acting like such a pervert when Geto's ass is like a perfect little peach. It's easy to forget thanks to those ugly ass, baggy pants he always wears. Gojo wasn't lying when he said he was built like a girl, after all.
He doesn't even realize he's sucking a hickey onto one cheek until Geto yelps and tries to swat at him. He chuckles out an apology and, after one last lingering kiss, he moves so his tongue can gently trace around the pink hole in front of him. It almost tickles, makes Geto squeal before Gojo reaches up and squeezes the flesh of his ass to distract him. It's slow, almost torturously so, as Gojo teases him with his tongue and breath. He moans against Geto's skin and pulls away, just to leave sloppy, open mouthed kisses to his balls, the curve of his thighs. Back and forth between gently pushing his tongue against the needy, wet hole, and suckling at his balls until Geto lets out low, gravelly whimpers. Until his hips unknowingly push back against his friends mouth. Gojo goes to pull away to tease him, but doesn't get very far before Geto whines and tries to kick him in retaliation, missing narrowly.
"N-no," he gasps. "Please, don't... don't stop."
Gojo couldn't escape even if he wanted to, and he really doesn't want to, completely at Geto's mercy, like he was put on this earth to fulfill his every desire. Again, he lets saliva pool in his mouth before spitting it directly on Geto's tight hole, just so he can push it inside with his tongue. Get him all nice and slick for the real deal.
He alternates between tongue-fucking him and using his thumb to reach a bit deeper while his mouth leaves bites and hickeys wherever he can reach— this time Geto lets it happen, brain far too cloudy to stop it— until Geto's ass and thighs are decorated with sweet, little love marks that only Gojo can see. He chuckles a little, muffled, and sneaks a hand around to grip Geto's neglected dick, making him hiss and arch even further.
"F-uck... Oh my god, please— p-please."
Geto doesn't even care that he sounds wrecked already, pleading for anything like his sanity depends on it, mouth agape and drooling. For fuck's sake, he can feel his best friend's spit drip down his balls; he's allowed to be pathetic. Thank god Gojo's cocky mouth is busy, if not he'd be whispering insufferable, naughty things to Geto just to make him fluster. Gojo tightens his fist around his cock and jerks him faster, fucks his tongue deeper inside him until the muscles relax.
Geto chokes, his eyes clamping shut when the albino squeezes his tip. It's almost embarrassing how quick Gojo can get him to the edge. Other partners in the past would often get frustrated after 30 minutes of hopeful, albeit impatient stroking. Gojo has him ready to bust within ten.
"Gh! M'gonna cum— gotta stop. D-don't wanna cum yet."
And honestly, he's a little disappointed when Gojo actually pulls away with a little gasping breath and a big ol' smile. His hands are on him in seconds though, pulling away from his throbbing cock to knead the squishy muscles of his ass. Even spreads his cheeks a little to gawk at the now glossy hole.
"Always so eager," Gojo teases, running his fingers down his balls to collect the obscene amount of spit that had dribbled there. He uses the slick to easily slide one finger inside him slowly, letting him get used to the intrusion but still letting him feel a sting of resistance. Geto hisses, his back tensing up before he forces his muscles to relax. He knows from the first time they did this, he won't get more if Gojo feels him tense up, and that image has replayed itself over and over since it happened. Gojo knows him, knows his body, and that fact lit a fire in Geto's brain.
"S-says the one who practically attacked me once we got here," he slurs out, determined not to give his desperation away all at once but still failing pretty hard. Gojo snickers, pretty blush blooming across his pale skin, before he forces his finger deeper and hooks it. Geto instinctively bucks his hips back with a deep moan. His eyes even cross, and he's more than thankful Gojo couldn't see.
Gojo fucks his finger faster into the drooling hole in front of him. "Know I'm eager, baby. Been thinkin' about you for weeks, y'know?" he purrs. Geto's eyes widen in horror, his own blush flooding his chest now. He buries his face against the silk pillows and groans.
"Oh my god, shut up!"
Humiliatingly enough, his heart skips a loving beat, even as it hammers against his rib cage like it wants to escape and strangle Gojo itself. "You can't just say shit like that." A second long finger is being pushed inside him before he can chastise Gojo too much, drawing out a hiss. Gojo sucks his teeth just to feign annoyance, and resumes his pace.
"Ohhh, is that right?" he teases, now rutting against Geto's thigh while he fingers him open. He'd been hard the minute he got Geto on the bed, so finally allowing himself a bit of relief makes him shudder. "Am I bein' mean, Suguboo? You scared I'm gonna tell you that I liiike you?"
"What?!"
Damn, that came out a lot louder than Geto intended. He tries to cover it up with another moan, and thank god Gojo spares him the teasing. Only a little.
"Course I like you," he purrs, slowing his fingers down so he can squeeze another one in, maybe a little too quickly, but his sweet words have Geto's muscles relaxing on instinct. "I'm obsessed with you. C'mooon, don't tell me you never noticed."
Of course Geto had noticed (he'd be an idiot not to), but good god does it make him feel crazy. He always told himself that Gojo is just flirty by nature and he doesn't understand personal space because he was raised unconventionally, that he treats everyone like that; Geto isn't special. Gojo is far too full of himself to be interested in someone like him. Now, however, Geto's entire thought process is shutting down because the Chosen One, the Strongest, has him pinned beneath his eyes and arms, nearly confessing to him.
"F-fuck."
In that moment, a touch of sincerity and vulnerability slips through Geto's whimpering mouth and Gojo feels his brain melt. He pulls his fingers out of his slick hole and immediately flips Geto onto his back, can't help but grin down at him all wicked when his pretty amethyst eyes widen in shock.
"S'ok like this?" Gojo asks. More pants it out like a dog. He squeezes at Geto's hips and thighs to keep his hands busy and he swears he nearly busts when he nods frantically. There's an audible swallow as Gojo tries desperately to wet his throat. "Say it? Please, baby." The way his voice cracks a little makes Geto's breath catch. Gojo can tease him all he wants, but there's no denying he's just as desperate, if not more so.
"God— yes. Please, Satoru. Fuck me," Geto purrs, eyes hooded and glassy with need. His thighs even part sweetly and Gojo zeros in on the throbbing cock on his stomach. The next few seconds are a blur as Gojo strips his own clothes off, finally giving Geto a proper look at his lean, chiseled body. His cock seems bigger than he last remembered, and it makes his tongue feel suddenly very thick in his mouth.
Gojo's hands fly to his knees so he can press them to his torso, keeping him spread open. Really uses his strength and the new delicious pounds he'd gained recently from vigorous training. Not that Geto is powerless against him, having also built up quite a bit of mass himself, he submits willingly. Because he's enamored. He's just as obsessed. He's in love.
Before he can fully panic about that revelation, Gojo grips his cock and pushes the tip right against him. He tries to be patient, really he does, but the second he feels that warmth again, it's like he loses every ounce of control. It wasn't a lie when he said he's been thinking about this for weeks after all, and once the first inch pushes inside he can't help but force the rest. It makes Geto gasp— the pain is surprising, but not unwelcome— teeth buried in his lip to at least try and muffle the moan he lets out. God forbid they have another incident like with Nanami.
This position is different. Being folded at this angle gives Gojo the ability to drill him with ease, and this time Geto is completely at his mercy. It's overwhelming, teetering right on the edge of too much, but Geto's body accepts the onslaught perfectly. He gasps at the slow, brutal pace Gojo sets and clamps a hand over his mouth to muffle the sobs building in the back of his throat.
Gojo's hardly any better. Getting to see that pretty face contort in pleasure, watching those eyes roll back and glaze over, makes his cock throb inside the heavenly tightness wrapped around him. He pulls Geto's legs over his shoulders so he can lean down, get a better look at the blush, and the sweat already beading around his hairline.
"Fuck, Toru!" Geto chokes out, muffled, and Gojo is quick to join in on covering his mouth.
"Shh-shhh, baby," he whispers, trying desperately to bite back a cocky smile. His voice is shaky but he tries to keep it together just enough to comfort the man beneath him. "Know it feels good, I know. But we gotta be quiet, right? Don't wanna wake anyone up."
Geto nods and his eyes flutter shut when the thrusts quicken. Deepen. A sob wracks through his body and Gojo's teeth bare. He rips his hand away by the wrist, pins it, and plants the filthiest kiss on his lips, muffling and swallowing any cries that come out. Geto's eyes shoot open in shock, but he doesn't pull away, though every cell in his body wants him to. It's funny, even though he's literally fucking his friend, the kiss feels leagues too intimate. Too real. When Gojo's hand moves to gently cradle his cheek though, he melts into his mouth, his touch. His eyebrows furrow and he throws his arms around his neck like he wants to pull him inside his body impossibly deeper, it all makes Gojo's heart squeeze.
Their tongues hesitantly explore each other's mouths before they gain enough confidence to lick against one another— shamelessly. Moaning and swearing and drooling against each other's mouths like they couldn't get enough. Like years of friendship had built up and boiled over to this exact moment.
Geto pulls away, out of breath and panting. "G-god. I need more, please. More," he begs, voice raw and whispered as he sinks his nails into the albino's broad shoulders, sure to leave marks. Geto's cock pulses, and pulses, against his stomach, like it was asking for permission to let go. Begging for it, all red and wet and swollen. And who would Satoru Gojo be if he denied the angel beneath him?
He anchors himself to the mattress and fucks into him faster, more forceful, more intently. His hips pull out barely a fraction of an inch to keep that slick, throbbing warmth around his cock like he'd die without it.
"Y'just as greedy as I am, Sugu," he pants, bringing a sweaty hand down to jerk Geto off in quick succession. "Beggin' for it like such a good boy. My good boy, huh?"
Geto's spine bows off the mattress in a heavenly little arch, a choked out moan escaping his throat and he barely even cares that he's being loud now. He can't care, not when he's being held down, praised, and fucked like this. Gojo tries to catch the sound in his mouth but his body nearly gives out when the warmth around his dick tightens and flutters.
"Hahh, fuck," he whines against plush, wet lips. He pushes Geto's sweaty bangs from his forehead so he can look right at his pretty face with no obstructions. "Like that? Gonna cum from me sweet talkin' you? Cutest fuckin' thing in the whole world, baby, I swear."
His composure is slipping the closer he gets to cumming, but he tries to beat it back. If he can hold out for a little longer, he can time their orgasms so they perfectly align, and he can absorb every ounce of Geto's cursed energy. As if he wasn't drunk enough off his body, he needs his life force to flood his senses too. He needs to be closer, so close he can feel Geto's heartbeat in his throat. Nothing else will do.
Geto's cock twitches violently when he sees the near crazed look in Gojo's eyes, had seen it only once before when he was drunk off his own power.
"S-Sato! Satoru, I— fuck! Please, don't stop!" he cries, tears running down his pink, splotchy cheeks like watercolors. It all happens at once, like a million rubber bands snapping simultaneously. The energy in the heady dorm room cracks like a firework, and Geto's body seizes up. Time slows for a brief moment between the build up and release where Gojo can do nothing but watch the beautiful sight before him.
Geto's eyes blur, his vision fuzzing around the edges as his orgasm floods through his entire body, choking him. His cock throbs, kicking off his stomach to shoot white-hot ribbons of cum across his tummy and chest, effectively flooding the divots in his abs. His hole tightens up too, giving Gojo no choice but to rut against him like an animal, working off the basic instinct of breed, breed, breed.
"Gh—! F-fuck baby, my baby. You feel so good I— fuuuck, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you." Gojo babbles like an idiot, most likely unaware of what he even said. He barely even registers he's cumming too until his cock geysers out an obscene amount. He curses through it, relishing in the way his cock pushes against Geto's soft, slick walls with every heavy throb.
Gojo's very spirit, full to the brim with cursed energy, releases and his skin vibrates with power and exhaustion. Briefly, Geto swears he sees his irises glow, the black of his pupils nearly swallowed up by vibrant, electric blue. And it takes every ounce of strength to not let the lights shatter around them again. The entire room feels like it could crumble with a snap of his fingers if he's honest, but Gojo holds back, focuses on feeling the soft, sweating body beneath him. Around him.
Geto's energy tastes like warm milk and sugar, and everything Gojo is weak against. It's ironic, given the poor man's technique, but this goes beyond jujutsu. This is Geto's soul, his essence.
Gojo swallows the sugary spit that had flooded his mouth and lets out a string of curses and moans as he's forced back into his material body. The warmth around his cock and the scent of sex and lavender invade his senses comfortingly, and before he can stop himself, he's collapsing on top of Geto, who accepts the weight happily. Gojo buries his face in his neck like it's a safe haven, all the while stroking his strong hands across Geto's skin because he's handsy like that. It's almost as if to say 'I'm here with you and I love you. Let's breathe and be together.'
Geto's world is still spinning on the other hand. Panic had since faded away into a deep, dreamy satisfaction at being well spent and taken care of, and Gojo's weight keeps him tethered to reality. The two don't move for several minutes, going on years it seems, not even when the mix of sweat and cum starts to irritate their skin. As long as they keep touching, nothing else mattered. The shared mix of energy gently flows through both of them and soothes every muscle and ache, like a physical lullaby made specifically for them.
Eventually, Gojo takes in a deep breath and leaves a long, open-mouthed kiss against Geto's neck. He hums, satisfied, when he squirms beneath him and makes a small sound of pleasure, tilting his head to offer the albino more of his neck. Gojo complies with a chuckle, and leaves a sweet little trail up and down, and back up again until he reaches Geto's lips once more. The kiss is a lot softer now, slower, like he's savoring it for the first time.
Geto hums, pushing his tongue against Gojo's just to taste him a little longer before pulling away, eyes all hooded and shiny. Now that the fog in his brain is slowly dissipating, every moment, every word, comes flooding back with clarity.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Gojo immediately senses when Geto's nerves spike, and gives him a cheesy smile in hopes of calming him. "Pretty corny, huh?" he says, running his fingers through pretty, black hair. "Y'know, I always imagined confessing to you while we were on a romantic date. Row boat on a lake at sunset, surrounded by cherry blossoms type thing." He pauses when Geto's snorts a little and playfully pushes at his face. Gojo only nuzzles against his hand and kisses at the skin.
"I guess I'll have to save that for when I ask my Suguru to marry me, huh?"
Geto lets out a laugh this time, rolling his eyes even though his heart does beat a little harder. "Slow your roll there, pal," he says, pushing Gojo so they're lying face to face now. Gojo's dick is completely soft now, just staying as close as possible to still feel the heat of Geto's insides. "We've had sex twice now and you're already proposing? Don't tell me it was that good."
Gojo pouts, not unlike a bratty kid, but there's no real fire behind it. "Fine," he huffs dramatically. "Since you hate me now, I'll keep my future proposal to myself!"
The corners of Geto's eyes crinkle when he laughs harder, and Gojo immediately cracks a smile. If it was possible to drown in a sound, he'd want it to be that. Geto laughing with his full heart, particularly at the stupid shit he says. He snickers, snuggling closer and pulling Geto's head under his chin so he can feel his heartbeat.
"I love you, brat," he says, squeezing his arms around him like a protective shield. Geto's breath catches in his throat, almost too scared to admit that this is real. With a deep inhale, he snuggles closer to Gojo. His best friend. His lover.
content: bottom!geto, top!gojo, missionary, ass eating, anal, gojo loves getting his hair pulled, geto inexperienced with gay shit, gojo is obsessive, love confessions, first kiss, au of some kind idk, college au but still in jjk universe?
words: 5.2k
ko-fi
!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
best friends can fuck, right? and it's totally normal. like... it doesn't change their relationship or anything, right? at least, that's what geto is telling himself to get through the week
part 2 to take it slower, make you lose control
• • •
Geto doesn't exactly know what he expected after the first time. A part of him expected things to be awkward on both ends, but Gojo has an endless well of shamelessness that protects him from any less-than-desirable social situations. Must be nice. It hasn't even been long since he took his virginity— second virginity? The semantics aren't important enough, but Geto can't help but cling onto every single detail of that night. How nervous he was, how he and Gojo fell into an almost natural rhythm, like their shared desire took over and led them by the hand. How the whole room quickly filled with the scent of sex and sweat. How the lights shattered and exploded around them when Gojo finally came.
Geto would later find out from Shoko that the entire school lost power thanks to them. And he's sure she noticed the bright red blush that crept across his face before he excused himself under the guise of "studying". Ever perceptive, Shoko knows. Hell, everyone knows. If Gojo's big, yearning, puppy dog eyes weren't a dead give away, then the blatant flirting was. Not to mention Nanami made sure to lament to Shoko about their late night excursions because he shares a freaking wall with Gojo.
All this to say, Geto feels like he's walking on a fine line between remaining as calm as possible, and totally succumbing to the anxiety-induced heat he feels whenever Gojo is near. It's like every hair on his body stands on end when he catches him staring, and it's reducing him to an utter mess. He feels 16 again, drooling at the sight of pretty, unattainable idols in their flouncy, doll-like dresses. He's always been a sucker for pretty things, and Gojo is nothing short of a porcelain doll. All pale skin and delicate white lashes that frame his eyes like glittering snow.
That's the real dilemma. Geto has always been fond of Gojo— duh— but after that night, it's so glaringly different that it's jarring. It's one thing to admire a friend for their strength, integrity, and admittedly good looks. It's another to fuck them and like it. It may not even be the most wild thing in the world; truly, there are far bigger things Geto could agonize over, so why can't he? It was a one time thing, so why can't he let it go? In some defensive way, he blames Gojo and his enthusiastic willingness to do it again.
He paces around his dorm room, finger nails bitten to the quick despite the taste of old nail polish in his mouth. It's a little past midnight, and no matter how often he glances over at the clock, time ticks on at a snail's pace. Gojo typically goes to bed around 3am, and Geto has been avoiding him like the plague, so he forwent dinner to save himself. Now, he's starving, cranky, and tired, but the thought of even maybe bumping into Gojo makes his stomach twist into knots.
Eventually, he groans to himself. He's being stupid. Gojo is his best friend for gods sake, and he can't ignore him forever. So, with a deep breath, he gently pulls his door open and peeks out. Seeing a clear coast, he tiptoes his way towards the common area to snag a cup of instant ramen. It's dark, and he really should have been using his phone's flashlight because the second he rounds a corner, he slams into something solid.
"Fuck me!"
It wasn't even rock hard, just completely unmoving. Geto pulls back, rubbing his forehead and hissing, when he hears a voice that makes him jump out of his skin.
"What are you doing up so late, Sugu~?"
Gojo flicks on a light and Geto's eyes widen when he sees just how close he is, not that Gojo has ever known anything about personal space. He tries to open his mouth to speak, but no words come out, just a slew of stammering that Gojo grins at as he gets closer.
"Can't sleep? Bad dream? Wanna have a sleepover?" he rapid-fires, wiggling his eyebrows because he's childish. Geto's cheeks flush and he takes a step back, a notion Gojo pointedly ignores.
"Ah-- no, I'm ok," Geto says, backing up again. "Like... I know you don't sleep a lot."
Gojo stubbornly takes another step forward, essentially pinning Geto to the counter, and pouts. "C'monnn, it'll be funnn. Promise I'll be good," he whines, knowing he'll get his way eventually. Geto cracks too easily for his own good. And even though he knows there isn't an ounce of good behavior in Gojo's body, he can't stop from nodding. Gojo's face splits into his signature, wide smile.
"Lead the way."
It takes Gojo exactly zero time to pin Geto down to the bed the second the dorm's door clicks shut behind them. He latches onto Geto's neck with his teeth like he simply can't help himself, before soothing the bite with kisses when his friend mewls in discomfort.
"Y'room is real cute, Sugu," Gojo says, knowing damn well he didn't even pretend to look around before pouncing on him. He moans when Geto reaches up, flustered and wide-eyed beyond belief, and grabs a fist full of white hair to yank him away from his sensitive neck. Gojo's lips are shiny with spit, and he's looking down at Geto like he wants to devour him whole. If only he knew the extent of his yearning. He wants to give Geto everything. He wants to live inside him forever. Fuck, he'd give him all the blood in his body right now just to be able to flow through his veins. His heart.
"Lemme fuck you."
It's so breathy and strained, like Gojo is pleading for it, and Geto nods with a hum, desperately tangling his fingers in soft hair. How can he do anything else when his cock is trapped and weeping to feel his touch again? Gojo had completely ruined him after the first time. He can't make himself cum like that on his own, and even when he tries, it just feels like he's edging himself, dreaming of fucking his best friend again.
"Y-yes... please."
The way Gojo's face lights up makes Geto cringe and curl in on himself. But Gojo grabs his face to force eye contact. "God, you're so cute," he hums, dragging his slender nose up the column of Geto's throat. He's clumsy as he pushes those baggy sweatpants down tanned thighs, hands shaky with anticipation. It's tempting to leave the fabric bunched up around Geto's knees so his legs can't part, keeping him nice and tight and immobile for Gojo, but he begrudgingly decides against it (this time anyway). He tosses the pants— and boxers, the impatient bastard— to the side and crawls over his body so his hips slot right between plush, meaty thighs.
Geto's mind is reeling. Everything is happening so fast that he can barely keep up. Thankfully, he has enough remaining brain cells to pull off his own shirt, then paw at Gojo's clothes because it's unfair being the only naked one here. He doesn't get very far with his silent request when Gojo grabs his cock and strokes it. He grins like an idiot when Geto sucks a breath in through his teeth and whines.
"So wet already, baby~" Gojo hums, greedy to say the least, tapping his fingertip against the precum already beading from his slit, just to pull away and watch as a silvery thread connects the two of them. His eyes are intently watching, nearly sparkling with fascination at every twitch Geto's cock makes, and how it inadvertently forces his hole to squeeze around nothing.
"Shut up!" Geto chastises, his blush only deepening. "Saying that like I'm a girl— I'm not a fucking girl."
Gojo lets out the prettiest laugh and flips him over, presses a hand down on his spine to bend him into a revealing arch. A simple display of strength that makes Geto's metaphorical tail wag.
Gently, Gojo reaches up and wraps his fingers around his hair tie.
"No?" he asks, teasing. He slowly pulls at the tie until Geto's raven hair splays against the pillowcase like a silky curtain. "Coulda fooled me. Built like one, look like one," he leans down to his ear and bites at the shell, "Can take cock like one, too."
Geto turns his face into the pillows and groans in humiliation. He really should be more disappointed in himself for, once again, succumbing to Gojo and his big, stupid, pleading eyes, but every single thought in his head comes to a screeching halt when he feels something wet and warm drag between his cheeks.
"Satoru!" he yelps, nearly clawing up the bed to get away from his friend's tongue. He didn't even notice the bastard had shimmied his way down the bed, too focused on the shame boiling in his face. "God, you're so nasty! Fuckin' perv, can't believe you would— hey!"
Gojo snatches him by the waist and tugs him back down, just short of growling at him. He sinks his teeth into one squishy cheek and gives the other a playful slap as punishment. A silent 'stay'.
"Oh c'mon," he says, voice all husky. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, already drooling like a dog. "Gotta open you up."
And it's not like Geto can really argue with him, not when Gojo presses against his spine till his chest hits the mattress and pins him like a bitch. He can't see, but Gojo beams like a kid on Christmas, ready to tear into a box of candies. He lets spit dribble from his lips onto the cute hole in front of him. It twitches on reflex and he can't help but give it a sloppy little kiss. His tongue follows immediately, laving across the tight hole in long, languid licks.
"Ain't so bad, right?" he asks. It's taking every iota of willpower to not just fuck his tongue into him, keeps reminding himself that Geto isn't used to this. Geto coughs a little, and rolls his head around the pillow. "Hah... It's ok. F-feels good," he mumbles, eyebrows furrowing further when Gojo hesitantly pushes the very tip of his tongue past the tight ring. He pulls away just as soon, and a wet clicking sound fills the room as he builds a steady rhythm, alternating between fucking and licking.
It's harder to relax this time, Geto realizes. Having fingers in his ass is one thing— shit, he tried it himself one time when he was drunk— but a tongue? It's way too intimate.
Gojo hums a little and licks a stripe from the very edge of his balls to his hole before pulling away. He leaves a kiss at the base of his spine, hoping to comfort the man below him, who trembles with each movement.
"Somethin' the matter? You're tense," he says, voice all soft and patient. Another kiss, this time to Geto's right cheek. "We can stop, y'know?" Well, to be fair he kinda jumped his bones the second the door closed.
Geto lets out a breath and hesitates. Apparently, he waits too long before Gojo is climbing over him to leave a kiss on his neck. Even nuzzles his hair, only to breathe in the sweet lavender scent of his conditioner. He keeps his hands on those plump hips though, just letting his thumbs massage and soothe the skin there.
"God, no," Geto says, reaching back to grab a fistful of Gojo's hair again to keep him right where he is. His fingers tremble. "Just... j— maybe slow down." And suddenly, he's overwhelmingly nervous that he somehow offended Gojo, or killed the mood or something, but the taller man just chuckles, soft and coquettish.
"Yeah, baby. I can do that," he purrs, leaning over again to kiss a soft, barely there trail down his spine. "Mh, y'know I can get greedy sometimes. Just gotta tell me what you need 'n I'll listen." He's basically speaking into Geto's skin, unable to pull his lips away for even a second when he reaches his ass again. Can hardly blame him for acting like such a pervert when Geto's ass is like a perfect little peach. It's easy to forget thanks to those ugly ass, baggy pants he always wears. Gojo wasn't lying when he said he was built like a girl, after all.
He doesn't even realize he's sucking a hickey onto one cheek until Geto yelps and tries to swat at him. He chuckles out an apology and, after one last lingering kiss, he moves so his tongue can gently trace around the pink hole in front of him. It almost tickles, makes Geto squeal before Gojo reaches up and squeezes the flesh of his ass to distract him. It's slow, almost torturously so, as Gojo teases him with his tongue and breath. He moans against Geto's skin and pulls away, just to leave sloppy, open mouthed kisses to his balls, the curve of his thighs. Back and forth between gently pushing his tongue against the needy, wet hole, and suckling at his balls until Geto lets out low, gravelly whimpers. Until his hips unknowingly push back against his friends mouth. Gojo goes to pull away to tease him, but doesn't get very far before Geto whines and tries to kick him in retaliation, missing narrowly.
"N-no," he gasps. "Please, don't... don't stop."
Gojo couldn't escape even if he wanted to, and he really doesn't want to, completely at Geto's mercy, like he was put on this earth to fulfill his every desire. Again, he lets saliva pool in his mouth before spitting it directly on Geto's tight hole, just so he can push it inside with his tongue. Get him all nice and slick for the real deal.
He alternates between tongue-fucking him and using his thumb to reach a bit deeper while his mouth leaves bites and hickeys wherever he can reach— this time Geto lets it happen, brain far too cloudy to stop it— until Geto's ass and thighs are decorated with sweet, little love marks that only Gojo can see. He chuckles a little, muffled, and sneaks a hand around to grip Geto's neglected dick, making him hiss and arch even further.
"F-uck... Oh my god, please— p-please."
Geto doesn't even care that he sounds wrecked already, pleading for anything like his sanity depends on it, mouth agape and drooling. For fuck's sake, he can feel his best friend's spit drip down his balls; he's allowed to be pathetic. Thank god Gojo's cocky mouth is busy, if not he'd be whispering insufferable, naughty things to Geto just to make him fluster. Gojo tightens his fist around his cock and jerks him faster, fucks his tongue deeper inside him until the muscles relax.
Geto chokes, his eyes clamping shut when the albino squeezes his tip. It's almost embarrassing how quick Gojo can get him to the edge. Other partners in the past would often get frustrated after 30 minutes of hopeful, albeit impatient stroking. Gojo has him ready to bust within ten.
"Gh! M'gonna cum— gotta stop. D-don't wanna cum yet."
And honestly, he's a little disappointed when Gojo actually pulls away with a little gasping breath and a big ol' smile. His hands are on him in seconds though, pulling away from his throbbing cock to knead the squishy muscles of his ass. Even spreads his cheeks a little to gawk at the now glossy hole.
"Always so eager," Gojo teases, running his fingers down his balls to collect the obscene amount of spit that had dribbled there. He uses the slick to easily slide one finger inside him slowly, letting him get used to the intrusion but still letting him feel a sting of resistance. Geto hisses, his back tensing up before he forces his muscles to relax. He knows from the first time they did this, he won't get more if Gojo feels him tense up, and that image has replayed itself over and over since it happened. Gojo knows him, knows his body, and that fact lit a fire in Geto's brain.
"S-says the one who practically attacked me once we got here," he slurs out, determined not to give his desperation away all at once but still failing pretty hard. Gojo snickers, pretty blush blooming across his pale skin, before he forces his finger deeper and hooks it. Geto instinctively bucks his hips back with a deep moan. His eyes even cross, and he's more than thankful Gojo couldn't see.
Gojo fucks his finger faster into the drooling hole in front of him. "Know I'm eager, baby. Been thinkin' about you for weeks, y'know?" he purrs. Geto's eyes widen in horror, his own blush flooding his chest now. He buries his face against the silk pillows and groans.
"Oh my god, shut up!"
Humiliatingly enough, his heart skips a loving beat, even as it hammers against his rib cage like it wants to escape and strangle Gojo itself. "You can't just say shit like that." A second long finger is being pushed inside him before he can chastise Gojo too much, drawing out a hiss. Gojo sucks his teeth just to feign annoyance, and resumes his pace.
"Ohhh, is that right?" he teases, now rutting against Geto's thigh while he fingers him open. He'd been hard the minute he got Geto on the bed, so finally allowing himself a bit of relief makes him shudder. "Am I bein' mean, Suguboo? You scared I'm gonna tell you that I liiike you?"
"What?!"
Damn, that came out a lot louder than Geto intended. He tries to cover it up with another moan, and thank god Gojo spares him the teasing. Only a little.
"Course I like you," he purrs, slowing his fingers down so he can squeeze another one in, maybe a little too quickly, but his sweet words have Geto's muscles relaxing on instinct. "I'm obsessed with you. C'mooon, don't tell me you never noticed."
Of course Geto had noticed (he'd be an idiot not to), but good god does it make him feel crazy. He always told himself that Gojo is just flirty by nature and he doesn't understand personal space because he was raised unconventionally, that he treats everyone like that; Geto isn't special. Gojo is far too full of himself to be interested in someone like him. Now, however, Geto's entire thought process is shutting down because the Chosen One, the Strongest, has him pinned beneath his eyes and arms, nearly confessing to him.
"F-fuck."
In that moment, a touch of sincerity and vulnerability slips through Geto's whimpering mouth and Gojo feels his brain melt. He pulls his fingers out of his slick hole and immediately flips Geto onto his back, can't help but grin down at him all wicked when his pretty amethyst eyes widen in shock.
"S'ok like this?" Gojo asks. More pants it out like a dog. He squeezes at Geto's hips and thighs to keep his hands busy and he swears he nearly busts when he nods frantically. There's an audible swallow as Gojo tries desperately to wet his throat. "Say it? Please, baby." The way his voice cracks a little makes Geto's breath catch. Gojo can tease him all he wants, but there's no denying he's just as desperate, if not more so.
"God— yes. Please, Satoru. Fuck me," Geto purrs, eyes hooded and glassy with need. His thighs even part sweetly and Gojo zeros in on the throbbing cock on his stomach. The next few seconds are a blur as Gojo strips his own clothes off, finally giving Geto a proper look at his lean, chiseled body. His cock seems bigger than he last remembered, and it makes his tongue feel suddenly very thick in his mouth.
Gojo's hands fly to his knees so he can press them to his torso, keeping him spread open. Really uses his strength and the new delicious pounds he'd gained recently from vigorous training. Not that Geto is powerless against him, having also built up quite a bit of mass himself, he submits willingly. Because he's enamored. He's just as obsessed. He's in love.
Before he can fully panic about that revelation, Gojo grips his cock and pushes the tip right against him. He tries to be patient, really he does, but the second he feels that warmth again, it's like he loses every ounce of control. It wasn't a lie when he said he's been thinking about this for weeks after all, and once the first inch pushes inside he can't help but force the rest. It makes Geto gasp— the pain is surprising, but not unwelcome— teeth buried in his lip to at least try and muffle the moan he lets out. God forbid they have another incident like with Nanami.
This position is different. Being folded at this angle gives Gojo the ability to drill him with ease, and this time Geto is completely at his mercy. It's overwhelming, teetering right on the edge of too much, but Geto's body accepts the onslaught perfectly. He gasps at the slow, brutal pace Gojo sets and clamps a hand over his mouth to muffle the sobs building in the back of his throat.
Gojo's hardly any better. Getting to see that pretty face contort in pleasure, watching those eyes roll back and glaze over, makes his cock throb inside the heavenly tightness wrapped around him. He pulls Geto's legs over his shoulders so he can lean down, get a better look at the blush, and the sweat already beading around his hairline.
"Fuck, Toru!" Geto chokes out, muffled, and Gojo is quick to join in on covering his mouth.
"Shh-shhh, baby," he whispers, trying desperately to bite back a cocky smile. His voice is shaky but he tries to keep it together just enough to comfort the man beneath him. "Know it feels good, I know. But we gotta be quiet, right? Don't wanna wake anyone up."
Geto nods and his eyes flutter shut when the thrusts quicken. Deepen. A sob wracks through his body and Gojo's teeth bare. He rips his hand away by the wrist, pins it, and plants the filthiest kiss on his lips, muffling and swallowing any cries that come out. Geto's eyes shoot open in shock, but he doesn't pull away, though every cell in his body wants him to. It's funny, even though he's literally fucking his friend, the kiss feels leagues too intimate. Too real. When Gojo's hand moves to gently cradle his cheek though, he melts into his mouth, his touch. His eyebrows furrow and he throws his arms around his neck like he wants to pull him inside his body impossibly deeper, it all makes Gojo's heart squeeze.
Their tongues hesitantly explore each other's mouths before they gain enough confidence to lick against one another— shamelessly. Moaning and swearing and drooling against each other's mouths like they couldn't get enough. Like years of friendship had built up and boiled over to this exact moment.
Geto pulls away, out of breath and panting. "G-god. I need more, please. More," he begs, voice raw and whispered as he sinks his nails into the albino's broad shoulders, sure to leave marks. Geto's cock pulses, and pulses, against his stomach, like it was asking for permission to let go. Begging for it, all red and wet and swollen. And who would Satoru Gojo be if he denied the angel beneath him?
He anchors himself to the mattress and fucks into him faster, more forceful, more intently. His hips pull out barely a fraction of an inch to keep that slick, throbbing warmth around his cock like he'd die without it.
"Y'just as greedy as I am, Sugu," he pants, bringing a sweaty hand down to jerk Geto off in quick succession. "Beggin' for it like such a good boy. My good boy, huh?"
Geto's spine bows off the mattress in a heavenly little arch, a choked out moan escaping his throat and he barely even cares that he's being loud now. He can't care, not when he's being held down, praised, and fucked like this. Gojo tries to catch the sound in his mouth but his body nearly gives out when the warmth around his dick tightens and flutters.
"Hahh, fuck," he whines against plush, wet lips. He pushes Geto's sweaty bangs from his forehead so he can look right at his pretty face with no obstructions. "Like that? Gonna cum from me sweet talkin' you? Cutest fuckin' thing in the whole world, baby, I swear."
His composure is slipping the closer he gets to cumming, but he tries to beat it back. If he can hold out for a little longer, he can time their orgasms so they perfectly align, and he can absorb every ounce of Geto's cursed energy. As if he wasn't drunk enough off his body, he needs his life force to flood his senses too. He needs to be closer, so close he can feel Geto's heartbeat in his throat. Nothing else will do.
Geto's cock twitches violently when he sees the near crazed look in Gojo's eyes, had seen it only once before when he was drunk off his own power.
"S-Sato! Satoru, I— fuck! Please, don't stop!" he cries, tears running down his pink, splotchy cheeks like watercolors. It all happens at once, like a million rubber bands snapping simultaneously. The energy in the heady dorm room cracks like a firework, and Geto's body seizes up. Time slows for a brief moment between the build up and release where Gojo can do nothing but watch the beautiful sight before him.
Geto's eyes blur, his vision fuzzing around the edges as his orgasm floods through his entire body, choking him. His cock throbs, kicking off his stomach to shoot white-hot ribbons of cum across his tummy and chest, effectively flooding the divots in his abs. His hole tightens up too, giving Gojo no choice but to rut against him like an animal, working off the basic instinct of breed, breed, breed.
"Gh—! F-fuck baby, my baby. You feel so good I— fuuuck, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you." Gojo babbles like an idiot, most likely unaware of what he even said. He barely even registers he's cumming too until his cock geysers out an obscene amount. He curses through it, relishing in the way his cock pushes against Geto's soft, slick walls with every heavy throb.
Gojo's very spirit, full to the brim with cursed energy, releases and his skin vibrates with power and exhaustion. Briefly, Geto swears he sees his irises glow, the black of his pupils nearly swallowed up by vibrant, electric blue. And it takes every ounce of strength to not let the lights shatter around them again. The entire room feels like it could crumble with a snap of his fingers if he's honest, but Gojo holds back, focuses on feeling the soft, sweating body beneath him. Around him.
Geto's energy tastes like warm milk and sugar, and everything Gojo is weak against. It's ironic, given the poor man's technique, but this goes beyond jujutsu. This is Geto's soul, his essence.
Gojo swallows the sugary spit that had flooded his mouth and lets out a string of curses and moans as he's forced back into his material body. The warmth around his cock and the scent of sex and lavender invade his senses comfortingly, and before he can stop himself, he's collapsing on top of Geto, who accepts the weight happily. Gojo buries his face in his neck like it's a safe haven, all the while stroking his strong hands across Geto's skin because he's handsy like that. It's almost as if to say 'I'm here with you and I love you. Let's breathe and be together.'
Geto's world is still spinning on the other hand. Panic had since faded away into a deep, dreamy satisfaction at being well spent and taken care of, and Gojo's weight keeps him tethered to reality. The two don't move for several minutes, going on years it seems, not even when the mix of sweat and cum starts to irritate their skin. As long as they keep touching, nothing else mattered. The shared mix of energy gently flows through both of them and soothes every muscle and ache, like a physical lullaby made specifically for them.
Eventually, Gojo takes in a deep breath and leaves a long, open-mouthed kiss against Geto's neck. He hums, satisfied, when he squirms beneath him and makes a small sound of pleasure, tilting his head to offer the albino more of his neck. Gojo complies with a chuckle, and leaves a sweet little trail up and down, and back up again until he reaches Geto's lips once more. The kiss is a lot softer now, slower, like he's savoring it for the first time.
Geto hums, pushing his tongue against Gojo's just to taste him a little longer before pulling away, eyes all hooded and shiny. Now that the fog in his brain is slowly dissipating, every moment, every word, comes flooding back with clarity.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Gojo immediately senses when Geto's nerves spike, and gives him a cheesy smile in hopes of calming him. "Pretty corny, huh?" he says, running his fingers through pretty, black hair. "Y'know, I always imagined confessing to you while we were on a romantic date. Row boat on a lake at sunset, surrounded by cherry blossoms type thing." He pauses when Geto's snorts a little and playfully pushes at his face. Gojo only nuzzles against his hand and kisses at the skin.
"I guess I'll have to save that for when I ask my Suguru to marry me, huh?"
Geto lets out a laugh this time, rolling his eyes even though his heart does beat a little harder. "Slow your roll there, pal," he says, pushing Gojo so they're lying face to face now. Gojo's dick is completely soft now, just staying as close as possible to still feel the heat of Geto's insides. "We've had sex twice now and you're already proposing? Don't tell me it was that good."
Gojo pouts, not unlike a bratty kid, but there's no real fire behind it. "Fine," he huffs dramatically. "Since you hate me now, I'll keep my future proposal to myself!"
The corners of Geto's eyes crinkle when he laughs harder, and Gojo immediately cracks a smile. If it was possible to drown in a sound, he'd want it to be that. Geto laughing with his full heart, particularly at the stupid shit he says. He snickers, snuggling closer and pulling Geto's head under his chin so he can feel his heartbeat.
"I love you, brat," he says, squeezing his arms around him like a protective shield. Geto's breath catches in his throat, almost too scared to admit that this is real. With a deep inhale, he snuggles closer to Gojo. His best friend. His lover.
content: bottom!geto, top!gojo, missionary, ass eating, anal, gojo loves getting his hair pulled, geto inexperienced with gay shit, gojo is obsessive, love confessions, first kiss, au of some kind idk, college au but still in jjk universe?
words: 5.2k
ko-fi
!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
best friends can fuck, right? and it's totally normal. like... it doesn't change their relationship or anything, right? at least, that's what geto is telling himself to get through the week
part 2 to take it slower, make you lose control
• • •
Geto doesn't exactly know what he expected after the first time. A part of him expected things to be awkward on both ends, but Gojo has an endless well of shamelessness that protects him from any less-than-desirable social situations. Must be nice. It hasn't even been long since he took his virginity— second virginity? The semantics aren't important enough, but Geto can't help but cling onto every single detail of that night. How nervous he was, how he and Gojo fell into an almost natural rhythm, like their shared desire took over and led them by the hand. How the whole room quickly filled with the scent of sex and sweat. How the lights shattered and exploded around them when Gojo finally came.
Geto would later find out from Shoko that the entire school lost power thanks to them. And he's sure she noticed the bright red blush that crept across his face before he excused himself under the guise of "studying". Ever perceptive, Shoko knows. Hell, everyone knows. If Gojo's big, yearning, puppy dog eyes weren't a dead give away, then the blatant flirting was. Not to mention Nanami made sure to lament to Shoko about their late night excursions because he shares a freaking wall with Gojo.
All this to say, Geto feels like he's walking on a fine line between remaining as calm as possible, and totally succumbing to the anxiety-induced heat he feels whenever Gojo is near. It's like every hair on his body stands on end when he catches him staring, and it's reducing him to an utter mess. He feels 16 again, drooling at the sight of pretty, unattainable idols in their flouncy, doll-like dresses. He's always been a sucker for pretty things, and Gojo is nothing short of a porcelain doll. All pale skin and delicate white lashes that frame his eyes like glittering snow.
That's the real dilemma. Geto has always been fond of Gojo— duh— but after that night, it's so glaringly different that it's jarring. It's one thing to admire a friend for their strength, integrity, and admittedly good looks. It's another to fuck them and like it. It may not even be the most wild thing in the world; truly, there are far bigger things Geto could agonize over, so why can't he? It was a one time thing, so why can't he let it go? In some defensive way, he blames Gojo and his enthusiastic willingness to do it again.
He paces around his dorm room, finger nails bitten to the quick despite the taste of old nail polish in his mouth. It's a little past midnight, and no matter how often he glances over at the clock, time ticks on at a snail's pace. Gojo typically goes to bed around 3am, and Geto has been avoiding him like the plague, so he forwent dinner to save himself. Now, he's starving, cranky, and tired, but the thought of even maybe bumping into Gojo makes his stomach twist into knots.
Eventually, he groans to himself. He's being stupid. Gojo is his best friend for gods sake, and he can't ignore him forever. So, with a deep breath, he gently pulls his door open and peeks out. Seeing a clear coast, he tiptoes his way towards the common area to snag a cup of instant ramen. It's dark, and he really should have been using his phone's flashlight because the second he rounds a corner, he slams into something solid.
"Fuck me!"
It wasn't even rock hard, just completely unmoving. Geto pulls back, rubbing his forehead and hissing, when he hears a voice that makes him jump out of his skin.
"What are you doing up so late, Sugu~?"
Gojo flicks on a light and Geto's eyes widen when he sees just how close he is, not that Gojo has ever known anything about personal space. He tries to open his mouth to speak, but no words come out, just a slew of stammering that Gojo grins at as he gets closer.
"Can't sleep? Bad dream? Wanna have a sleepover?" he rapid-fires, wiggling his eyebrows because he's childish. Geto's cheeks flush and he takes a step back, a notion Gojo pointedly ignores.
"Ah-- no, I'm ok," Geto says, backing up again. "Like... I know you don't sleep a lot."
Gojo stubbornly takes another step forward, essentially pinning Geto to the counter, and pouts. "C'monnn, it'll be funnn. Promise I'll be good," he whines, knowing he'll get his way eventually. Geto cracks too easily for his own good. And even though he knows there isn't an ounce of good behavior in Gojo's body, he can't stop from nodding. Gojo's face splits into his signature, wide smile.
"Lead the way."
It takes Gojo exactly zero time to pin Geto down to the bed the second the dorm's door clicks shut behind them. He latches onto Geto's neck with his teeth like he simply can't help himself, before soothing the bite with kisses when his friend mewls in discomfort.
"Y'room is real cute, Sugu," Gojo says, knowing damn well he didn't even pretend to look around before pouncing on him. He moans when Geto reaches up, flustered and wide-eyed beyond belief, and grabs a fist full of white hair to yank him away from his sensitive neck. Gojo's lips are shiny with spit, and he's looking down at Geto like he wants to devour him whole. If only he knew the extent of his yearning. He wants to give Geto everything. He wants to live inside him forever. Fuck, he'd give him all the blood in his body right now just to be able to flow through his veins. His heart.
"Lemme fuck you."
It's so breathy and strained, like Gojo is pleading for it, and Geto nods with a hum, desperately tangling his fingers in soft hair. How can he do anything else when his cock is trapped and weeping to feel his touch again? Gojo had completely ruined him after the first time. He can't make himself cum like that on his own, and even when he tries, it just feels like he's edging himself, dreaming of fucking his best friend again.
"Y-yes... please."
The way Gojo's face lights up makes Geto cringe and curl in on himself. But Gojo grabs his face to force eye contact. "God, you're so cute," he hums, dragging his slender nose up the column of Geto's throat. He's clumsy as he pushes those baggy sweatpants down tanned thighs, hands shaky with anticipation. It's tempting to leave the fabric bunched up around Geto's knees so his legs can't part, keeping him nice and tight and immobile for Gojo, but he begrudgingly decides against it (this time anyway). He tosses the pants— and boxers, the impatient bastard— to the side and crawls over his body so his hips slot right between plush, meaty thighs.
Geto's mind is reeling. Everything is happening so fast that he can barely keep up. Thankfully, he has enough remaining brain cells to pull off his own shirt, then paw at Gojo's clothes because it's unfair being the only naked one here. He doesn't get very far with his silent request when Gojo grabs his cock and strokes it. He grins like an idiot when Geto sucks a breath in through his teeth and whines.
"So wet already, baby~" Gojo hums, greedy to say the least, tapping his fingertip against the precum already beading from his slit, just to pull away and watch as a silvery thread connects the two of them. His eyes are intently watching, nearly sparkling with fascination at every twitch Geto's cock makes, and how it inadvertently forces his hole to squeeze around nothing.
"Shut up!" Geto chastises, his blush only deepening. "Saying that like I'm a girl— I'm not a fucking girl."
Gojo lets out the prettiest laugh and flips him over, presses a hand down on his spine to bend him into a revealing arch. A simple display of strength that makes Geto's metaphorical tail wag.
Gently, Gojo reaches up and wraps his fingers around his hair tie.
"No?" he asks, teasing. He slowly pulls at the tie until Geto's raven hair splays against the pillowcase like a silky curtain. "Coulda fooled me. Built like one, look like one," he leans down to his ear and bites at the shell, "Can take cock like one, too."
Geto turns his face into the pillows and groans in humiliation. He really should be more disappointed in himself for, once again, succumbing to Gojo and his big, stupid, pleading eyes, but every single thought in his head comes to a screeching halt when he feels something wet and warm drag between his cheeks.
"Satoru!" he yelps, nearly clawing up the bed to get away from his friend's tongue. He didn't even notice the bastard had shimmied his way down the bed, too focused on the shame boiling in his face. "God, you're so nasty! Fuckin' perv, can't believe you would— hey!"
Gojo snatches him by the waist and tugs him back down, just short of growling at him. He sinks his teeth into one squishy cheek and gives the other a playful slap as punishment. A silent 'stay'.
"Oh c'mon," he says, voice all husky. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, already drooling like a dog. "Gotta open you up."
And it's not like Geto can really argue with him, not when Gojo presses against his spine till his chest hits the mattress and pins him like a bitch. He can't see, but Gojo beams like a kid on Christmas, ready to tear into a box of candies. He lets spit dribble from his lips onto the cute hole in front of him. It twitches on reflex and he can't help but give it a sloppy little kiss. His tongue follows immediately, laving across the tight hole in long, languid licks.
"Ain't so bad, right?" he asks. It's taking every iota of willpower to not just fuck his tongue into him, keeps reminding himself that Geto isn't used to this. Geto coughs a little, and rolls his head around the pillow. "Hah... It's ok. F-feels good," he mumbles, eyebrows furrowing further when Gojo hesitantly pushes the very tip of his tongue past the tight ring. He pulls away just as soon, and a wet clicking sound fills the room as he builds a steady rhythm, alternating between fucking and licking.
It's harder to relax this time, Geto realizes. Having fingers in his ass is one thing— shit, he tried it himself one time when he was drunk— but a tongue? It's way too intimate.
Gojo hums a little and licks a stripe from the very edge of his balls to his hole before pulling away. He leaves a kiss at the base of his spine, hoping to comfort the man below him, who trembles with each movement.
"Somethin' the matter? You're tense," he says, voice all soft and patient. Another kiss, this time to Geto's right cheek. "We can stop, y'know?" Well, to be fair he kinda jumped his bones the second the door closed.
Geto lets out a breath and hesitates. Apparently, he waits too long before Gojo is climbing over him to leave a kiss on his neck. Even nuzzles his hair, only to breathe in the sweet lavender scent of his conditioner. He keeps his hands on those plump hips though, just letting his thumbs massage and soothe the skin there.
"God, no," Geto says, reaching back to grab a fistful of Gojo's hair again to keep him right where he is. His fingers tremble. "Just... j— maybe slow down." And suddenly, he's overwhelmingly nervous that he somehow offended Gojo, or killed the mood or something, but the taller man just chuckles, soft and coquettish.
"Yeah, baby. I can do that," he purrs, leaning over again to kiss a soft, barely there trail down his spine. "Mh, y'know I can get greedy sometimes. Just gotta tell me what you need 'n I'll listen." He's basically speaking into Geto's skin, unable to pull his lips away for even a second when he reaches his ass again. Can hardly blame him for acting like such a pervert when Geto's ass is like a perfect little peach. It's easy to forget thanks to those ugly ass, baggy pants he always wears. Gojo wasn't lying when he said he was built like a girl, after all.
He doesn't even realize he's sucking a hickey onto one cheek until Geto yelps and tries to swat at him. He chuckles out an apology and, after one last lingering kiss, he moves so his tongue can gently trace around the pink hole in front of him. It almost tickles, makes Geto squeal before Gojo reaches up and squeezes the flesh of his ass to distract him. It's slow, almost torturously so, as Gojo teases him with his tongue and breath. He moans against Geto's skin and pulls away, just to leave sloppy, open mouthed kisses to his balls, the curve of his thighs. Back and forth between gently pushing his tongue against the needy, wet hole, and suckling at his balls until Geto lets out low, gravelly whimpers. Until his hips unknowingly push back against his friends mouth. Gojo goes to pull away to tease him, but doesn't get very far before Geto whines and tries to kick him in retaliation, missing narrowly.
"N-no," he gasps. "Please, don't... don't stop."
Gojo couldn't escape even if he wanted to, and he really doesn't want to, completely at Geto's mercy, like he was put on this earth to fulfill his every desire. Again, he lets saliva pool in his mouth before spitting it directly on Geto's tight hole, just so he can push it inside with his tongue. Get him all nice and slick for the real deal.
He alternates between tongue-fucking him and using his thumb to reach a bit deeper while his mouth leaves bites and hickeys wherever he can reach— this time Geto lets it happen, brain far too cloudy to stop it— until Geto's ass and thighs are decorated with sweet, little love marks that only Gojo can see. He chuckles a little, muffled, and sneaks a hand around to grip Geto's neglected dick, making him hiss and arch even further.
"F-uck... Oh my god, please— p-please."
Geto doesn't even care that he sounds wrecked already, pleading for anything like his sanity depends on it, mouth agape and drooling. For fuck's sake, he can feel his best friend's spit drip down his balls; he's allowed to be pathetic. Thank god Gojo's cocky mouth is busy, if not he'd be whispering insufferable, naughty things to Geto just to make him fluster. Gojo tightens his fist around his cock and jerks him faster, fucks his tongue deeper inside him until the muscles relax.
Geto chokes, his eyes clamping shut when the albino squeezes his tip. It's almost embarrassing how quick Gojo can get him to the edge. Other partners in the past would often get frustrated after 30 minutes of hopeful, albeit impatient stroking. Gojo has him ready to bust within ten.
"Gh! M'gonna cum— gotta stop. D-don't wanna cum yet."
And honestly, he's a little disappointed when Gojo actually pulls away with a little gasping breath and a big ol' smile. His hands are on him in seconds though, pulling away from his throbbing cock to knead the squishy muscles of his ass. Even spreads his cheeks a little to gawk at the now glossy hole.
"Always so eager," Gojo teases, running his fingers down his balls to collect the obscene amount of spit that had dribbled there. He uses the slick to easily slide one finger inside him slowly, letting him get used to the intrusion but still letting him feel a sting of resistance. Geto hisses, his back tensing up before he forces his muscles to relax. He knows from the first time they did this, he won't get more if Gojo feels him tense up, and that image has replayed itself over and over since it happened. Gojo knows him, knows his body, and that fact lit a fire in Geto's brain.
"S-says the one who practically attacked me once we got here," he slurs out, determined not to give his desperation away all at once but still failing pretty hard. Gojo snickers, pretty blush blooming across his pale skin, before he forces his finger deeper and hooks it. Geto instinctively bucks his hips back with a deep moan. His eyes even cross, and he's more than thankful Gojo couldn't see.
Gojo fucks his finger faster into the drooling hole in front of him. "Know I'm eager, baby. Been thinkin' about you for weeks, y'know?" he purrs. Geto's eyes widen in horror, his own blush flooding his chest now. He buries his face against the silk pillows and groans.
"Oh my god, shut up!"
Humiliatingly enough, his heart skips a loving beat, even as it hammers against his rib cage like it wants to escape and strangle Gojo itself. "You can't just say shit like that." A second long finger is being pushed inside him before he can chastise Gojo too much, drawing out a hiss. Gojo sucks his teeth just to feign annoyance, and resumes his pace.
"Ohhh, is that right?" he teases, now rutting against Geto's thigh while he fingers him open. He'd been hard the minute he got Geto on the bed, so finally allowing himself a bit of relief makes him shudder. "Am I bein' mean, Suguboo? You scared I'm gonna tell you that I liiike you?"
"What?!"
Damn, that came out a lot louder than Geto intended. He tries to cover it up with another moan, and thank god Gojo spares him the teasing. Only a little.
"Course I like you," he purrs, slowing his fingers down so he can squeeze another one in, maybe a little too quickly, but his sweet words have Geto's muscles relaxing on instinct. "I'm obsessed with you. C'mooon, don't tell me you never noticed."
Of course Geto had noticed (he'd be an idiot not to), but good god does it make him feel crazy. He always told himself that Gojo is just flirty by nature and he doesn't understand personal space because he was raised unconventionally, that he treats everyone like that; Geto isn't special. Gojo is far too full of himself to be interested in someone like him. Now, however, Geto's entire thought process is shutting down because the Chosen One, the Strongest, has him pinned beneath his eyes and arms, nearly confessing to him.
"F-fuck."
In that moment, a touch of sincerity and vulnerability slips through Geto's whimpering mouth and Gojo feels his brain melt. He pulls his fingers out of his slick hole and immediately flips Geto onto his back, can't help but grin down at him all wicked when his pretty amethyst eyes widen in shock.
"S'ok like this?" Gojo asks. More pants it out like a dog. He squeezes at Geto's hips and thighs to keep his hands busy and he swears he nearly busts when he nods frantically. There's an audible swallow as Gojo tries desperately to wet his throat. "Say it? Please, baby." The way his voice cracks a little makes Geto's breath catch. Gojo can tease him all he wants, but there's no denying he's just as desperate, if not more so.
"God— yes. Please, Satoru. Fuck me," Geto purrs, eyes hooded and glassy with need. His thighs even part sweetly and Gojo zeros in on the throbbing cock on his stomach. The next few seconds are a blur as Gojo strips his own clothes off, finally giving Geto a proper look at his lean, chiseled body. His cock seems bigger than he last remembered, and it makes his tongue feel suddenly very thick in his mouth.
Gojo's hands fly to his knees so he can press them to his torso, keeping him spread open. Really uses his strength and the new delicious pounds he'd gained recently from vigorous training. Not that Geto is powerless against him, having also built up quite a bit of mass himself, he submits willingly. Because he's enamored. He's just as obsessed. He's in love.
Before he can fully panic about that revelation, Gojo grips his cock and pushes the tip right against him. He tries to be patient, really he does, but the second he feels that warmth again, it's like he loses every ounce of control. It wasn't a lie when he said he's been thinking about this for weeks after all, and once the first inch pushes inside he can't help but force the rest. It makes Geto gasp— the pain is surprising, but not unwelcome— teeth buried in his lip to at least try and muffle the moan he lets out. God forbid they have another incident like with Nanami.
This position is different. Being folded at this angle gives Gojo the ability to drill him with ease, and this time Geto is completely at his mercy. It's overwhelming, teetering right on the edge of too much, but Geto's body accepts the onslaught perfectly. He gasps at the slow, brutal pace Gojo sets and clamps a hand over his mouth to muffle the sobs building in the back of his throat.
Gojo's hardly any better. Getting to see that pretty face contort in pleasure, watching those eyes roll back and glaze over, makes his cock throb inside the heavenly tightness wrapped around him. He pulls Geto's legs over his shoulders so he can lean down, get a better look at the blush, and the sweat already beading around his hairline.
"Fuck, Toru!" Geto chokes out, muffled, and Gojo is quick to join in on covering his mouth.
"Shh-shhh, baby," he whispers, trying desperately to bite back a cocky smile. His voice is shaky but he tries to keep it together just enough to comfort the man beneath him. "Know it feels good, I know. But we gotta be quiet, right? Don't wanna wake anyone up."
Geto nods and his eyes flutter shut when the thrusts quicken. Deepen. A sob wracks through his body and Gojo's teeth bare. He rips his hand away by the wrist, pins it, and plants the filthiest kiss on his lips, muffling and swallowing any cries that come out. Geto's eyes shoot open in shock, but he doesn't pull away, though every cell in his body wants him to. It's funny, even though he's literally fucking his friend, the kiss feels leagues too intimate. Too real. When Gojo's hand moves to gently cradle his cheek though, he melts into his mouth, his touch. His eyebrows furrow and he throws his arms around his neck like he wants to pull him inside his body impossibly deeper, it all makes Gojo's heart squeeze.
Their tongues hesitantly explore each other's mouths before they gain enough confidence to lick against one another— shamelessly. Moaning and swearing and drooling against each other's mouths like they couldn't get enough. Like years of friendship had built up and boiled over to this exact moment.
Geto pulls away, out of breath and panting. "G-god. I need more, please. More," he begs, voice raw and whispered as he sinks his nails into the albino's broad shoulders, sure to leave marks. Geto's cock pulses, and pulses, against his stomach, like it was asking for permission to let go. Begging for it, all red and wet and swollen. And who would Satoru Gojo be if he denied the angel beneath him?
He anchors himself to the mattress and fucks into him faster, more forceful, more intently. His hips pull out barely a fraction of an inch to keep that slick, throbbing warmth around his cock like he'd die without it.
"Y'just as greedy as I am, Sugu," he pants, bringing a sweaty hand down to jerk Geto off in quick succession. "Beggin' for it like such a good boy. My good boy, huh?"
Geto's spine bows off the mattress in a heavenly little arch, a choked out moan escaping his throat and he barely even cares that he's being loud now. He can't care, not when he's being held down, praised, and fucked like this. Gojo tries to catch the sound in his mouth but his body nearly gives out when the warmth around his dick tightens and flutters.
"Hahh, fuck," he whines against plush, wet lips. He pushes Geto's sweaty bangs from his forehead so he can look right at his pretty face with no obstructions. "Like that? Gonna cum from me sweet talkin' you? Cutest fuckin' thing in the whole world, baby, I swear."
His composure is slipping the closer he gets to cumming, but he tries to beat it back. If he can hold out for a little longer, he can time their orgasms so they perfectly align, and he can absorb every ounce of Geto's cursed energy. As if he wasn't drunk enough off his body, he needs his life force to flood his senses too. He needs to be closer, so close he can feel Geto's heartbeat in his throat. Nothing else will do.
Geto's cock twitches violently when he sees the near crazed look in Gojo's eyes, had seen it only once before when he was drunk off his own power.
"S-Sato! Satoru, I— fuck! Please, don't stop!" he cries, tears running down his pink, splotchy cheeks like watercolors. It all happens at once, like a million rubber bands snapping simultaneously. The energy in the heady dorm room cracks like a firework, and Geto's body seizes up. Time slows for a brief moment between the build up and release where Gojo can do nothing but watch the beautiful sight before him.
Geto's eyes blur, his vision fuzzing around the edges as his orgasm floods through his entire body, choking him. His cock throbs, kicking off his stomach to shoot white-hot ribbons of cum across his tummy and chest, effectively flooding the divots in his abs. His hole tightens up too, giving Gojo no choice but to rut against him like an animal, working off the basic instinct of breed, breed, breed.
"Gh—! F-fuck baby, my baby. You feel so good I— fuuuck, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you." Gojo babbles like an idiot, most likely unaware of what he even said. He barely even registers he's cumming too until his cock geysers out an obscene amount. He curses through it, relishing in the way his cock pushes against Geto's soft, slick walls with every heavy throb.
Gojo's very spirit, full to the brim with cursed energy, releases and his skin vibrates with power and exhaustion. Briefly, Geto swears he sees his irises glow, the black of his pupils nearly swallowed up by vibrant, electric blue. And it takes every ounce of strength to not let the lights shatter around them again. The entire room feels like it could crumble with a snap of his fingers if he's honest, but Gojo holds back, focuses on feeling the soft, sweating body beneath him. Around him.
Geto's energy tastes like warm milk and sugar, and everything Gojo is weak against. It's ironic, given the poor man's technique, but this goes beyond jujutsu. This is Geto's soul, his essence.
Gojo swallows the sugary spit that had flooded his mouth and lets out a string of curses and moans as he's forced back into his material body. The warmth around his cock and the scent of sex and lavender invade his senses comfortingly, and before he can stop himself, he's collapsing on top of Geto, who accepts the weight happily. Gojo buries his face in his neck like it's a safe haven, all the while stroking his strong hands across Geto's skin because he's handsy like that. It's almost as if to say 'I'm here with you and I love you. Let's breathe and be together.'
Geto's world is still spinning on the other hand. Panic had since faded away into a deep, dreamy satisfaction at being well spent and taken care of, and Gojo's weight keeps him tethered to reality. The two don't move for several minutes, going on years it seems, not even when the mix of sweat and cum starts to irritate their skin. As long as they keep touching, nothing else mattered. The shared mix of energy gently flows through both of them and soothes every muscle and ache, like a physical lullaby made specifically for them.
Eventually, Gojo takes in a deep breath and leaves a long, open-mouthed kiss against Geto's neck. He hums, satisfied, when he squirms beneath him and makes a small sound of pleasure, tilting his head to offer the albino more of his neck. Gojo complies with a chuckle, and leaves a sweet little trail up and down, and back up again until he reaches Geto's lips once more. The kiss is a lot softer now, slower, like he's savoring it for the first time.
Geto hums, pushing his tongue against Gojo's just to taste him a little longer before pulling away, eyes all hooded and shiny. Now that the fog in his brain is slowly dissipating, every moment, every word, comes flooding back with clarity.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Gojo immediately senses when Geto's nerves spike, and gives him a cheesy smile in hopes of calming him. "Pretty corny, huh?" he says, running his fingers through pretty, black hair. "Y'know, I always imagined confessing to you while we were on a romantic date. Row boat on a lake at sunset, surrounded by cherry blossoms type thing." He pauses when Geto's snorts a little and playfully pushes at his face. Gojo only nuzzles against his hand and kisses at the skin.
"I guess I'll have to save that for when I ask my Suguru to marry me, huh?"
Geto lets out a laugh this time, rolling his eyes even though his heart does beat a little harder. "Slow your roll there, pal," he says, pushing Gojo so they're lying face to face now. Gojo's dick is completely soft now, just staying as close as possible to still feel the heat of Geto's insides. "We've had sex twice now and you're already proposing? Don't tell me it was that good."
Gojo pouts, not unlike a bratty kid, but there's no real fire behind it. "Fine," he huffs dramatically. "Since you hate me now, I'll keep my future proposal to myself!"
The corners of Geto's eyes crinkle when he laughs harder, and Gojo immediately cracks a smile. If it was possible to drown in a sound, he'd want it to be that. Geto laughing with his full heart, particularly at the stupid shit he says. He snickers, snuggling closer and pulling Geto's head under his chin so he can feel his heartbeat.
"I love you, brat," he says, squeezing his arms around him like a protective shield. Geto's breath catches in his throat, almost too scared to admit that this is real. With a deep inhale, he snuggles closer to Gojo. His best friend. His lover.
content: bottom!geto, top!gojo, missionary, ass eating, anal, gojo loves getting his hair pulled, geto inexperienced with gay shit, gojo is obsessive, love confessions, first kiss, au of some kind idk, college au but still in jjk universe?
words: 5.2k
ko-fi
!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
best friends can fuck, right? and it's totally normal. like... it doesn't change their relationship or anything, right? at least, that's what geto is telling himself to get through the week
part 2 to take it slower, make you lose control
• • •
Geto doesn't exactly know what he expected after the first time. A part of him expected things to be awkward on both ends, but Gojo has an endless well of shamelessness that protects him from any less-than-desirable social situations. Must be nice. It hasn't even been long since he took his virginity— second virginity? The semantics aren't important enough, but Geto can't help but cling onto every single detail of that night. How nervous he was, how he and Gojo fell into an almost natural rhythm, like their shared desire took over and led them by the hand. How the whole room quickly filled with the scent of sex and sweat. How the lights shattered and exploded around them when Gojo finally came.
Geto would later find out from Shoko that the entire school lost power thanks to them. And he's sure she noticed the bright red blush that crept across his face before he excused himself under the guise of "studying". Ever perceptive, Shoko knows. Hell, everyone knows. If Gojo's big, yearning, puppy dog eyes weren't a dead give away, then the blatant flirting was. Not to mention Nanami made sure to lament to Shoko about their late night excursions because he shares a freaking wall with Gojo.
All this to say, Geto feels like he's walking on a fine line between remaining as calm as possible, and totally succumbing to the anxiety-induced heat he feels whenever Gojo is near. It's like every hair on his body stands on end when he catches him staring, and it's reducing him to an utter mess. He feels 16 again, drooling at the sight of pretty, unattainable idols in their flouncy, doll-like dresses. He's always been a sucker for pretty things, and Gojo is nothing short of a porcelain doll. All pale skin and delicate white lashes that frame his eyes like glittering snow.
That's the real dilemma. Geto has always been fond of Gojo— duh— but after that night, it's so glaringly different that it's jarring. It's one thing to admire a friend for their strength, integrity, and admittedly good looks. It's another to fuck them and like it. It may not even be the most wild thing in the world; truly, there are far bigger things Geto could agonize over, so why can't he? It was a one time thing, so why can't he let it go? In some defensive way, he blames Gojo and his enthusiastic willingness to do it again.
He paces around his dorm room, finger nails bitten to the quick despite the taste of old nail polish in his mouth. It's a little past midnight, and no matter how often he glances over at the clock, time ticks on at a snail's pace. Gojo typically goes to bed around 3am, and Geto has been avoiding him like the plague, so he forwent dinner to save himself. Now, he's starving, cranky, and tired, but the thought of even maybe bumping into Gojo makes his stomach twist into knots.
Eventually, he groans to himself. He's being stupid. Gojo is his best friend for gods sake, and he can't ignore him forever. So, with a deep breath, he gently pulls his door open and peeks out. Seeing a clear coast, he tiptoes his way towards the common area to snag a cup of instant ramen. It's dark, and he really should have been using his phone's flashlight because the second he rounds a corner, he slams into something solid.
"Fuck me!"
It wasn't even rock hard, just completely unmoving. Geto pulls back, rubbing his forehead and hissing, when he hears a voice that makes him jump out of his skin.
"What are you doing up so late, Sugu~?"
Gojo flicks on a light and Geto's eyes widen when he sees just how close he is, not that Gojo has ever known anything about personal space. He tries to open his mouth to speak, but no words come out, just a slew of stammering that Gojo grins at as he gets closer.
"Can't sleep? Bad dream? Wanna have a sleepover?" he rapid-fires, wiggling his eyebrows because he's childish. Geto's cheeks flush and he takes a step back, a notion Gojo pointedly ignores.
"Ah-- no, I'm ok," Geto says, backing up again. "Like... I know you don't sleep a lot."
Gojo stubbornly takes another step forward, essentially pinning Geto to the counter, and pouts. "C'monnn, it'll be funnn. Promise I'll be good," he whines, knowing he'll get his way eventually. Geto cracks too easily for his own good. And even though he knows there isn't an ounce of good behavior in Gojo's body, he can't stop from nodding. Gojo's face splits into his signature, wide smile.
"Lead the way."
It takes Gojo exactly zero time to pin Geto down to the bed the second the dorm's door clicks shut behind them. He latches onto Geto's neck with his teeth like he simply can't help himself, before soothing the bite with kisses when his friend mewls in discomfort.
"Y'room is real cute, Sugu," Gojo says, knowing damn well he didn't even pretend to look around before pouncing on him. He moans when Geto reaches up, flustered and wide-eyed beyond belief, and grabs a fist full of white hair to yank him away from his sensitive neck. Gojo's lips are shiny with spit, and he's looking down at Geto like he wants to devour him whole. If only he knew the extent of his yearning. He wants to give Geto everything. He wants to live inside him forever. Fuck, he'd give him all the blood in his body right now just to be able to flow through his veins. His heart.
"Lemme fuck you."
It's so breathy and strained, like Gojo is pleading for it, and Geto nods with a hum, desperately tangling his fingers in soft hair. How can he do anything else when his cock is trapped and weeping to feel his touch again? Gojo had completely ruined him after the first time. He can't make himself cum like that on his own, and even when he tries, it just feels like he's edging himself, dreaming of fucking his best friend again.
"Y-yes... please."
The way Gojo's face lights up makes Geto cringe and curl in on himself. But Gojo grabs his face to force eye contact. "God, you're so cute," he hums, dragging his slender nose up the column of Geto's throat. He's clumsy as he pushes those baggy sweatpants down tanned thighs, hands shaky with anticipation. It's tempting to leave the fabric bunched up around Geto's knees so his legs can't part, keeping him nice and tight and immobile for Gojo, but he begrudgingly decides against it (this time anyway). He tosses the pants— and boxers, the impatient bastard— to the side and crawls over his body so his hips slot right between plush, meaty thighs.
Geto's mind is reeling. Everything is happening so fast that he can barely keep up. Thankfully, he has enough remaining brain cells to pull off his own shirt, then paw at Gojo's clothes because it's unfair being the only naked one here. He doesn't get very far with his silent request when Gojo grabs his cock and strokes it. He grins like an idiot when Geto sucks a breath in through his teeth and whines.
"So wet already, baby~" Gojo hums, greedy to say the least, tapping his fingertip against the precum already beading from his slit, just to pull away and watch as a silvery thread connects the two of them. His eyes are intently watching, nearly sparkling with fascination at every twitch Geto's cock makes, and how it inadvertently forces his hole to squeeze around nothing.
"Shut up!" Geto chastises, his blush only deepening. "Saying that like I'm a girl— I'm not a fucking girl."
Gojo lets out the prettiest laugh and flips him over, presses a hand down on his spine to bend him into a revealing arch. A simple display of strength that makes Geto's metaphorical tail wag.
Gently, Gojo reaches up and wraps his fingers around his hair tie.
"No?" he asks, teasing. He slowly pulls at the tie until Geto's raven hair splays against the pillowcase like a silky curtain. "Coulda fooled me. Built like one, look like one," he leans down to his ear and bites at the shell, "Can take cock like one, too."
Geto turns his face into the pillows and groans in humiliation. He really should be more disappointed in himself for, once again, succumbing to Gojo and his big, stupid, pleading eyes, but every single thought in his head comes to a screeching halt when he feels something wet and warm drag between his cheeks.
"Satoru!" he yelps, nearly clawing up the bed to get away from his friend's tongue. He didn't even notice the bastard had shimmied his way down the bed, too focused on the shame boiling in his face. "God, you're so nasty! Fuckin' perv, can't believe you would— hey!"
Gojo snatches him by the waist and tugs him back down, just short of growling at him. He sinks his teeth into one squishy cheek and gives the other a playful slap as punishment. A silent 'stay'.
"Oh c'mon," he says, voice all husky. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, already drooling like a dog. "Gotta open you up."
And it's not like Geto can really argue with him, not when Gojo presses against his spine till his chest hits the mattress and pins him like a bitch. He can't see, but Gojo beams like a kid on Christmas, ready to tear into a box of candies. He lets spit dribble from his lips onto the cute hole in front of him. It twitches on reflex and he can't help but give it a sloppy little kiss. His tongue follows immediately, laving across the tight hole in long, languid licks.
"Ain't so bad, right?" he asks. It's taking every iota of willpower to not just fuck his tongue into him, keeps reminding himself that Geto isn't used to this. Geto coughs a little, and rolls his head around the pillow. "Hah... It's ok. F-feels good," he mumbles, eyebrows furrowing further when Gojo hesitantly pushes the very tip of his tongue past the tight ring. He pulls away just as soon, and a wet clicking sound fills the room as he builds a steady rhythm, alternating between fucking and licking.
It's harder to relax this time, Geto realizes. Having fingers in his ass is one thing— shit, he tried it himself one time when he was drunk— but a tongue? It's way too intimate.
Gojo hums a little and licks a stripe from the very edge of his balls to his hole before pulling away. He leaves a kiss at the base of his spine, hoping to comfort the man below him, who trembles with each movement.
"Somethin' the matter? You're tense," he says, voice all soft and patient. Another kiss, this time to Geto's right cheek. "We can stop, y'know?" Well, to be fair he kinda jumped his bones the second the door closed.
Geto lets out a breath and hesitates. Apparently, he waits too long before Gojo is climbing over him to leave a kiss on his neck. Even nuzzles his hair, only to breathe in the sweet lavender scent of his conditioner. He keeps his hands on those plump hips though, just letting his thumbs massage and soothe the skin there.
"God, no," Geto says, reaching back to grab a fistful of Gojo's hair again to keep him right where he is. His fingers tremble. "Just... j— maybe slow down." And suddenly, he's overwhelmingly nervous that he somehow offended Gojo, or killed the mood or something, but the taller man just chuckles, soft and coquettish.
"Yeah, baby. I can do that," he purrs, leaning over again to kiss a soft, barely there trail down his spine. "Mh, y'know I can get greedy sometimes. Just gotta tell me what you need 'n I'll listen." He's basically speaking into Geto's skin, unable to pull his lips away for even a second when he reaches his ass again. Can hardly blame him for acting like such a pervert when Geto's ass is like a perfect little peach. It's easy to forget thanks to those ugly ass, baggy pants he always wears. Gojo wasn't lying when he said he was built like a girl, after all.
He doesn't even realize he's sucking a hickey onto one cheek until Geto yelps and tries to swat at him. He chuckles out an apology and, after one last lingering kiss, he moves so his tongue can gently trace around the pink hole in front of him. It almost tickles, makes Geto squeal before Gojo reaches up and squeezes the flesh of his ass to distract him. It's slow, almost torturously so, as Gojo teases him with his tongue and breath. He moans against Geto's skin and pulls away, just to leave sloppy, open mouthed kisses to his balls, the curve of his thighs. Back and forth between gently pushing his tongue against the needy, wet hole, and suckling at his balls until Geto lets out low, gravelly whimpers. Until his hips unknowingly push back against his friends mouth. Gojo goes to pull away to tease him, but doesn't get very far before Geto whines and tries to kick him in retaliation, missing narrowly.
"N-no," he gasps. "Please, don't... don't stop."
Gojo couldn't escape even if he wanted to, and he really doesn't want to, completely at Geto's mercy, like he was put on this earth to fulfill his every desire. Again, he lets saliva pool in his mouth before spitting it directly on Geto's tight hole, just so he can push it inside with his tongue. Get him all nice and slick for the real deal.
He alternates between tongue-fucking him and using his thumb to reach a bit deeper while his mouth leaves bites and hickeys wherever he can reach— this time Geto lets it happen, brain far too cloudy to stop it— until Geto's ass and thighs are decorated with sweet, little love marks that only Gojo can see. He chuckles a little, muffled, and sneaks a hand around to grip Geto's neglected dick, making him hiss and arch even further.
"F-uck... Oh my god, please— p-please."
Geto doesn't even care that he sounds wrecked already, pleading for anything like his sanity depends on it, mouth agape and drooling. For fuck's sake, he can feel his best friend's spit drip down his balls; he's allowed to be pathetic. Thank god Gojo's cocky mouth is busy, if not he'd be whispering insufferable, naughty things to Geto just to make him fluster. Gojo tightens his fist around his cock and jerks him faster, fucks his tongue deeper inside him until the muscles relax.
Geto chokes, his eyes clamping shut when the albino squeezes his tip. It's almost embarrassing how quick Gojo can get him to the edge. Other partners in the past would often get frustrated after 30 minutes of hopeful, albeit impatient stroking. Gojo has him ready to bust within ten.
"Gh! M'gonna cum— gotta stop. D-don't wanna cum yet."
And honestly, he's a little disappointed when Gojo actually pulls away with a little gasping breath and a big ol' smile. His hands are on him in seconds though, pulling away from his throbbing cock to knead the squishy muscles of his ass. Even spreads his cheeks a little to gawk at the now glossy hole.
"Always so eager," Gojo teases, running his fingers down his balls to collect the obscene amount of spit that had dribbled there. He uses the slick to easily slide one finger inside him slowly, letting him get used to the intrusion but still letting him feel a sting of resistance. Geto hisses, his back tensing up before he forces his muscles to relax. He knows from the first time they did this, he won't get more if Gojo feels him tense up, and that image has replayed itself over and over since it happened. Gojo knows him, knows his body, and that fact lit a fire in Geto's brain.
"S-says the one who practically attacked me once we got here," he slurs out, determined not to give his desperation away all at once but still failing pretty hard. Gojo snickers, pretty blush blooming across his pale skin, before he forces his finger deeper and hooks it. Geto instinctively bucks his hips back with a deep moan. His eyes even cross, and he's more than thankful Gojo couldn't see.
Gojo fucks his finger faster into the drooling hole in front of him. "Know I'm eager, baby. Been thinkin' about you for weeks, y'know?" he purrs. Geto's eyes widen in horror, his own blush flooding his chest now. He buries his face against the silk pillows and groans.
"Oh my god, shut up!"
Humiliatingly enough, his heart skips a loving beat, even as it hammers against his rib cage like it wants to escape and strangle Gojo itself. "You can't just say shit like that." A second long finger is being pushed inside him before he can chastise Gojo too much, drawing out a hiss. Gojo sucks his teeth just to feign annoyance, and resumes his pace.
"Ohhh, is that right?" he teases, now rutting against Geto's thigh while he fingers him open. He'd been hard the minute he got Geto on the bed, so finally allowing himself a bit of relief makes him shudder. "Am I bein' mean, Suguboo? You scared I'm gonna tell you that I liiike you?"
"What?!"
Damn, that came out a lot louder than Geto intended. He tries to cover it up with another moan, and thank god Gojo spares him the teasing. Only a little.
"Course I like you," he purrs, slowing his fingers down so he can squeeze another one in, maybe a little too quickly, but his sweet words have Geto's muscles relaxing on instinct. "I'm obsessed with you. C'mooon, don't tell me you never noticed."
Of course Geto had noticed (he'd be an idiot not to), but good god does it make him feel crazy. He always told himself that Gojo is just flirty by nature and he doesn't understand personal space because he was raised unconventionally, that he treats everyone like that; Geto isn't special. Gojo is far too full of himself to be interested in someone like him. Now, however, Geto's entire thought process is shutting down because the Chosen One, the Strongest, has him pinned beneath his eyes and arms, nearly confessing to him.
"F-fuck."
In that moment, a touch of sincerity and vulnerability slips through Geto's whimpering mouth and Gojo feels his brain melt. He pulls his fingers out of his slick hole and immediately flips Geto onto his back, can't help but grin down at him all wicked when his pretty amethyst eyes widen in shock.
"S'ok like this?" Gojo asks. More pants it out like a dog. He squeezes at Geto's hips and thighs to keep his hands busy and he swears he nearly busts when he nods frantically. There's an audible swallow as Gojo tries desperately to wet his throat. "Say it? Please, baby." The way his voice cracks a little makes Geto's breath catch. Gojo can tease him all he wants, but there's no denying he's just as desperate, if not more so.
"God— yes. Please, Satoru. Fuck me," Geto purrs, eyes hooded and glassy with need. His thighs even part sweetly and Gojo zeros in on the throbbing cock on his stomach. The next few seconds are a blur as Gojo strips his own clothes off, finally giving Geto a proper look at his lean, chiseled body. His cock seems bigger than he last remembered, and it makes his tongue feel suddenly very thick in his mouth.
Gojo's hands fly to his knees so he can press them to his torso, keeping him spread open. Really uses his strength and the new delicious pounds he'd gained recently from vigorous training. Not that Geto is powerless against him, having also built up quite a bit of mass himself, he submits willingly. Because he's enamored. He's just as obsessed. He's in love.
Before he can fully panic about that revelation, Gojo grips his cock and pushes the tip right against him. He tries to be patient, really he does, but the second he feels that warmth again, it's like he loses every ounce of control. It wasn't a lie when he said he's been thinking about this for weeks after all, and once the first inch pushes inside he can't help but force the rest. It makes Geto gasp— the pain is surprising, but not unwelcome— teeth buried in his lip to at least try and muffle the moan he lets out. God forbid they have another incident like with Nanami.
This position is different. Being folded at this angle gives Gojo the ability to drill him with ease, and this time Geto is completely at his mercy. It's overwhelming, teetering right on the edge of too much, but Geto's body accepts the onslaught perfectly. He gasps at the slow, brutal pace Gojo sets and clamps a hand over his mouth to muffle the sobs building in the back of his throat.
Gojo's hardly any better. Getting to see that pretty face contort in pleasure, watching those eyes roll back and glaze over, makes his cock throb inside the heavenly tightness wrapped around him. He pulls Geto's legs over his shoulders so he can lean down, get a better look at the blush, and the sweat already beading around his hairline.
"Fuck, Toru!" Geto chokes out, muffled, and Gojo is quick to join in on covering his mouth.
"Shh-shhh, baby," he whispers, trying desperately to bite back a cocky smile. His voice is shaky but he tries to keep it together just enough to comfort the man beneath him. "Know it feels good, I know. But we gotta be quiet, right? Don't wanna wake anyone up."
Geto nods and his eyes flutter shut when the thrusts quicken. Deepen. A sob wracks through his body and Gojo's teeth bare. He rips his hand away by the wrist, pins it, and plants the filthiest kiss on his lips, muffling and swallowing any cries that come out. Geto's eyes shoot open in shock, but he doesn't pull away, though every cell in his body wants him to. It's funny, even though he's literally fucking his friend, the kiss feels leagues too intimate. Too real. When Gojo's hand moves to gently cradle his cheek though, he melts into his mouth, his touch. His eyebrows furrow and he throws his arms around his neck like he wants to pull him inside his body impossibly deeper, it all makes Gojo's heart squeeze.
Their tongues hesitantly explore each other's mouths before they gain enough confidence to lick against one another— shamelessly. Moaning and swearing and drooling against each other's mouths like they couldn't get enough. Like years of friendship had built up and boiled over to this exact moment.
Geto pulls away, out of breath and panting. "G-god. I need more, please. More," he begs, voice raw and whispered as he sinks his nails into the albino's broad shoulders, sure to leave marks. Geto's cock pulses, and pulses, against his stomach, like it was asking for permission to let go. Begging for it, all red and wet and swollen. And who would Satoru Gojo be if he denied the angel beneath him?
He anchors himself to the mattress and fucks into him faster, more forceful, more intently. His hips pull out barely a fraction of an inch to keep that slick, throbbing warmth around his cock like he'd die without it.
"Y'just as greedy as I am, Sugu," he pants, bringing a sweaty hand down to jerk Geto off in quick succession. "Beggin' for it like such a good boy. My good boy, huh?"
Geto's spine bows off the mattress in a heavenly little arch, a choked out moan escaping his throat and he barely even cares that he's being loud now. He can't care, not when he's being held down, praised, and fucked like this. Gojo tries to catch the sound in his mouth but his body nearly gives out when the warmth around his dick tightens and flutters.
"Hahh, fuck," he whines against plush, wet lips. He pushes Geto's sweaty bangs from his forehead so he can look right at his pretty face with no obstructions. "Like that? Gonna cum from me sweet talkin' you? Cutest fuckin' thing in the whole world, baby, I swear."
His composure is slipping the closer he gets to cumming, but he tries to beat it back. If he can hold out for a little longer, he can time their orgasms so they perfectly align, and he can absorb every ounce of Geto's cursed energy. As if he wasn't drunk enough off his body, he needs his life force to flood his senses too. He needs to be closer, so close he can feel Geto's heartbeat in his throat. Nothing else will do.
Geto's cock twitches violently when he sees the near crazed look in Gojo's eyes, had seen it only once before when he was drunk off his own power.
"S-Sato! Satoru, I— fuck! Please, don't stop!" he cries, tears running down his pink, splotchy cheeks like watercolors. It all happens at once, like a million rubber bands snapping simultaneously. The energy in the heady dorm room cracks like a firework, and Geto's body seizes up. Time slows for a brief moment between the build up and release where Gojo can do nothing but watch the beautiful sight before him.
Geto's eyes blur, his vision fuzzing around the edges as his orgasm floods through his entire body, choking him. His cock throbs, kicking off his stomach to shoot white-hot ribbons of cum across his tummy and chest, effectively flooding the divots in his abs. His hole tightens up too, giving Gojo no choice but to rut against him like an animal, working off the basic instinct of breed, breed, breed.
"Gh—! F-fuck baby, my baby. You feel so good I— fuuuck, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you." Gojo babbles like an idiot, most likely unaware of what he even said. He barely even registers he's cumming too until his cock geysers out an obscene amount. He curses through it, relishing in the way his cock pushes against Geto's soft, slick walls with every heavy throb.
Gojo's very spirit, full to the brim with cursed energy, releases and his skin vibrates with power and exhaustion. Briefly, Geto swears he sees his irises glow, the black of his pupils nearly swallowed up by vibrant, electric blue. And it takes every ounce of strength to not let the lights shatter around them again. The entire room feels like it could crumble with a snap of his fingers if he's honest, but Gojo holds back, focuses on feeling the soft, sweating body beneath him. Around him.
Geto's energy tastes like warm milk and sugar, and everything Gojo is weak against. It's ironic, given the poor man's technique, but this goes beyond jujutsu. This is Geto's soul, his essence.
Gojo swallows the sugary spit that had flooded his mouth and lets out a string of curses and moans as he's forced back into his material body. The warmth around his cock and the scent of sex and lavender invade his senses comfortingly, and before he can stop himself, he's collapsing on top of Geto, who accepts the weight happily. Gojo buries his face in his neck like it's a safe haven, all the while stroking his strong hands across Geto's skin because he's handsy like that. It's almost as if to say 'I'm here with you and I love you. Let's breathe and be together.'
Geto's world is still spinning on the other hand. Panic had since faded away into a deep, dreamy satisfaction at being well spent and taken care of, and Gojo's weight keeps him tethered to reality. The two don't move for several minutes, going on years it seems, not even when the mix of sweat and cum starts to irritate their skin. As long as they keep touching, nothing else mattered. The shared mix of energy gently flows through both of them and soothes every muscle and ache, like a physical lullaby made specifically for them.
Eventually, Gojo takes in a deep breath and leaves a long, open-mouthed kiss against Geto's neck. He hums, satisfied, when he squirms beneath him and makes a small sound of pleasure, tilting his head to offer the albino more of his neck. Gojo complies with a chuckle, and leaves a sweet little trail up and down, and back up again until he reaches Geto's lips once more. The kiss is a lot softer now, slower, like he's savoring it for the first time.
Geto hums, pushing his tongue against Gojo's just to taste him a little longer before pulling away, eyes all hooded and shiny. Now that the fog in his brain is slowly dissipating, every moment, every word, comes flooding back with clarity.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Gojo immediately senses when Geto's nerves spike, and gives him a cheesy smile in hopes of calming him. "Pretty corny, huh?" he says, running his fingers through pretty, black hair. "Y'know, I always imagined confessing to you while we were on a romantic date. Row boat on a lake at sunset, surrounded by cherry blossoms type thing." He pauses when Geto's snorts a little and playfully pushes at his face. Gojo only nuzzles against his hand and kisses at the skin.
"I guess I'll have to save that for when I ask my Suguru to marry me, huh?"
Geto lets out a laugh this time, rolling his eyes even though his heart does beat a little harder. "Slow your roll there, pal," he says, pushing Gojo so they're lying face to face now. Gojo's dick is completely soft now, just staying as close as possible to still feel the heat of Geto's insides. "We've had sex twice now and you're already proposing? Don't tell me it was that good."
Gojo pouts, not unlike a bratty kid, but there's no real fire behind it. "Fine," he huffs dramatically. "Since you hate me now, I'll keep my future proposal to myself!"
The corners of Geto's eyes crinkle when he laughs harder, and Gojo immediately cracks a smile. If it was possible to drown in a sound, he'd want it to be that. Geto laughing with his full heart, particularly at the stupid shit he says. He snickers, snuggling closer and pulling Geto's head under his chin so he can feel his heartbeat.
"I love you, brat," he says, squeezing his arms around him like a protective shield. Geto's breath catches in his throat, almost too scared to admit that this is real. With a deep inhale, he snuggles closer to Gojo. His best friend. His lover.
content: bottom!geto, top!gojo, missionary, ass eating, anal, gojo loves getting his hair pulled, geto inexperienced with gay shit, gojo is obsessive, love confessions, first kiss, au of some kind idk, college au but still in jjk universe?
words: 5.2k
ko-fi
!!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
best friends can fuck, right? and it's totally normal. like... it doesn't change their relationship or anything, right? at least, that's what geto is telling himself to get through the week
part 2 to take it slower, make you lose control
• • •
Geto doesn't exactly know what he expected after the first time. A part of him expected things to be awkward on both ends, but Gojo has an endless well of shamelessness that protects him from any less-than-desirable social situations. Must be nice. It hasn't even been long since he took his virginity— second virginity? The semantics aren't important enough, but Geto can't help but cling onto every single detail of that night. How nervous he was, how he and Gojo fell into an almost natural rhythm, like their shared desire took over and led them by the hand. How the whole room quickly filled with the scent of sex and sweat. How the lights shattered and exploded around them when Gojo finally came.
Geto would later find out from Shoko that the entire school lost power thanks to them. And he's sure she noticed the bright red blush that crept across his face before he excused himself under the guise of "studying". Ever perceptive, Shoko knows. Hell, everyone knows. If Gojo's big, yearning, puppy dog eyes weren't a dead give away, then the blatant flirting was. Not to mention Nanami made sure to lament to Shoko about their late night excursions because he shares a freaking wall with Gojo.
All this to say, Geto feels like he's walking on a fine line between remaining as calm as possible, and totally succumbing to the anxiety-induced heat he feels whenever Gojo is near. It's like every hair on his body stands on end when he catches him staring, and it's reducing him to an utter mess. He feels 16 again, drooling at the sight of pretty, unattainable idols in their flouncy, doll-like dresses. He's always been a sucker for pretty things, and Gojo is nothing short of a porcelain doll. All pale skin and delicate white lashes that frame his eyes like glittering snow.
That's the real dilemma. Geto has always been fond of Gojo— duh— but after that night, it's so glaringly different that it's jarring. It's one thing to admire a friend for their strength, integrity, and admittedly good looks. It's another to fuck them and like it. It may not even be the most wild thing in the world; truly, there are far bigger things Geto could agonize over, so why can't he? It was a one time thing, so why can't he let it go? In some defensive way, he blames Gojo and his enthusiastic willingness to do it again.
He paces around his dorm room, finger nails bitten to the quick despite the taste of old nail polish in his mouth. It's a little past midnight, and no matter how often he glances over at the clock, time ticks on at a snail's pace. Gojo typically goes to bed around 3am, and Geto has been avoiding him like the plague, so he forwent dinner to save himself. Now, he's starving, cranky, and tired, but the thought of even maybe bumping into Gojo makes his stomach twist into knots.
Eventually, he groans to himself. He's being stupid. Gojo is his best friend for gods sake, and he can't ignore him forever. So, with a deep breath, he gently pulls his door open and peeks out. Seeing a clear coast, he tiptoes his way towards the common area to snag a cup of instant ramen. It's dark, and he really should have been using his phone's flashlight because the second he rounds a corner, he slams into something solid.
"Fuck me!"
It wasn't even rock hard, just completely unmoving. Geto pulls back, rubbing his forehead and hissing, when he hears a voice that makes him jump out of his skin.
"What are you doing up so late, Sugu~?"
Gojo flicks on a light and Geto's eyes widen when he sees just how close he is, not that Gojo has ever known anything about personal space. He tries to open his mouth to speak, but no words come out, just a slew of stammering that Gojo grins at as he gets closer.
"Can't sleep? Bad dream? Wanna have a sleepover?" he rapid-fires, wiggling his eyebrows because he's childish. Geto's cheeks flush and he takes a step back, a notion Gojo pointedly ignores.
"Ah-- no, I'm ok," Geto says, backing up again. "Like... I know you don't sleep a lot."
Gojo stubbornly takes another step forward, essentially pinning Geto to the counter, and pouts. "C'monnn, it'll be funnn. Promise I'll be good," he whines, knowing he'll get his way eventually. Geto cracks too easily for his own good. And even though he knows there isn't an ounce of good behavior in Gojo's body, he can't stop from nodding. Gojo's face splits into his signature, wide smile.
"Lead the way."
It takes Gojo exactly zero time to pin Geto down to the bed the second the dorm's door clicks shut behind them. He latches onto Geto's neck with his teeth like he simply can't help himself, before soothing the bite with kisses when his friend mewls in discomfort.
"Y'room is real cute, Sugu," Gojo says, knowing damn well he didn't even pretend to look around before pouncing on him. He moans when Geto reaches up, flustered and wide-eyed beyond belief, and grabs a fist full of white hair to yank him away from his sensitive neck. Gojo's lips are shiny with spit, and he's looking down at Geto like he wants to devour him whole. If only he knew the extent of his yearning. He wants to give Geto everything. He wants to live inside him forever. Fuck, he'd give him all the blood in his body right now just to be able to flow through his veins. His heart.
"Lemme fuck you."
It's so breathy and strained, like Gojo is pleading for it, and Geto nods with a hum, desperately tangling his fingers in soft hair. How can he do anything else when his cock is trapped and weeping to feel his touch again? Gojo had completely ruined him after the first time. He can't make himself cum like that on his own, and even when he tries, it just feels like he's edging himself, dreaming of fucking his best friend again.
"Y-yes... please."
The way Gojo's face lights up makes Geto cringe and curl in on himself. But Gojo grabs his face to force eye contact. "God, you're so cute," he hums, dragging his slender nose up the column of Geto's throat. He's clumsy as he pushes those baggy sweatpants down tanned thighs, hands shaky with anticipation. It's tempting to leave the fabric bunched up around Geto's knees so his legs can't part, keeping him nice and tight and immobile for Gojo, but he begrudgingly decides against it (this time anyway). He tosses the pants— and boxers, the impatient bastard— to the side and crawls over his body so his hips slot right between plush, meaty thighs.
Geto's mind is reeling. Everything is happening so fast that he can barely keep up. Thankfully, he has enough remaining brain cells to pull off his own shirt, then paw at Gojo's clothes because it's unfair being the only naked one here. He doesn't get very far with his silent request when Gojo grabs his cock and strokes it. He grins like an idiot when Geto sucks a breath in through his teeth and whines.
"So wet already, baby~" Gojo hums, greedy to say the least, tapping his fingertip against the precum already beading from his slit, just to pull away and watch as a silvery thread connects the two of them. His eyes are intently watching, nearly sparkling with fascination at every twitch Geto's cock makes, and how it inadvertently forces his hole to squeeze around nothing.
"Shut up!" Geto chastises, his blush only deepening. "Saying that like I'm a girl— I'm not a fucking girl."
Gojo lets out the prettiest laugh and flips him over, presses a hand down on his spine to bend him into a revealing arch. A simple display of strength that makes Geto's metaphorical tail wag.
Gently, Gojo reaches up and wraps his fingers around his hair tie.
"No?" he asks, teasing. He slowly pulls at the tie until Geto's raven hair splays against the pillowcase like a silky curtain. "Coulda fooled me. Built like one, look like one," he leans down to his ear and bites at the shell, "Can take cock like one, too."
Geto turns his face into the pillows and groans in humiliation. He really should be more disappointed in himself for, once again, succumbing to Gojo and his big, stupid, pleading eyes, but every single thought in his head comes to a screeching halt when he feels something wet and warm drag between his cheeks.
"Satoru!" he yelps, nearly clawing up the bed to get away from his friend's tongue. He didn't even notice the bastard had shimmied his way down the bed, too focused on the shame boiling in his face. "God, you're so nasty! Fuckin' perv, can't believe you would— hey!"
Gojo snatches him by the waist and tugs him back down, just short of growling at him. He sinks his teeth into one squishy cheek and gives the other a playful slap as punishment. A silent 'stay'.
"Oh c'mon," he says, voice all husky. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, already drooling like a dog. "Gotta open you up."
And it's not like Geto can really argue with him, not when Gojo presses against his spine till his chest hits the mattress and pins him like a bitch. He can't see, but Gojo beams like a kid on Christmas, ready to tear into a box of candies. He lets spit dribble from his lips onto the cute hole in front of him. It twitches on reflex and he can't help but give it a sloppy little kiss. His tongue follows immediately, laving across the tight hole in long, languid licks.
"Ain't so bad, right?" he asks. It's taking every iota of willpower to not just fuck his tongue into him, keeps reminding himself that Geto isn't used to this. Geto coughs a little, and rolls his head around the pillow. "Hah... It's ok. F-feels good," he mumbles, eyebrows furrowing further when Gojo hesitantly pushes the very tip of his tongue past the tight ring. He pulls away just as soon, and a wet clicking sound fills the room as he builds a steady rhythm, alternating between fucking and licking.
It's harder to relax this time, Geto realizes. Having fingers in his ass is one thing— shit, he tried it himself one time when he was drunk— but a tongue? It's way too intimate.
Gojo hums a little and licks a stripe from the very edge of his balls to his hole before pulling away. He leaves a kiss at the base of his spine, hoping to comfort the man below him, who trembles with each movement.
"Somethin' the matter? You're tense," he says, voice all soft and patient. Another kiss, this time to Geto's right cheek. "We can stop, y'know?" Well, to be fair he kinda jumped his bones the second the door closed.
Geto lets out a breath and hesitates. Apparently, he waits too long before Gojo is climbing over him to leave a kiss on his neck. Even nuzzles his hair, only to breathe in the sweet lavender scent of his conditioner. He keeps his hands on those plump hips though, just letting his thumbs massage and soothe the skin there.
"God, no," Geto says, reaching back to grab a fistful of Gojo's hair again to keep him right where he is. His fingers tremble. "Just... j— maybe slow down." And suddenly, he's overwhelmingly nervous that he somehow offended Gojo, or killed the mood or something, but the taller man just chuckles, soft and coquettish.
"Yeah, baby. I can do that," he purrs, leaning over again to kiss a soft, barely there trail down his spine. "Mh, y'know I can get greedy sometimes. Just gotta tell me what you need 'n I'll listen." He's basically speaking into Geto's skin, unable to pull his lips away for even a second when he reaches his ass again. Can hardly blame him for acting like such a pervert when Geto's ass is like a perfect little peach. It's easy to forget thanks to those ugly ass, baggy pants he always wears. Gojo wasn't lying when he said he was built like a girl, after all.
He doesn't even realize he's sucking a hickey onto one cheek until Geto yelps and tries to swat at him. He chuckles out an apology and, after one last lingering kiss, he moves so his tongue can gently trace around the pink hole in front of him. It almost tickles, makes Geto squeal before Gojo reaches up and squeezes the flesh of his ass to distract him. It's slow, almost torturously so, as Gojo teases him with his tongue and breath. He moans against Geto's skin and pulls away, just to leave sloppy, open mouthed kisses to his balls, the curve of his thighs. Back and forth between gently pushing his tongue against the needy, wet hole, and suckling at his balls until Geto lets out low, gravelly whimpers. Until his hips unknowingly push back against his friends mouth. Gojo goes to pull away to tease him, but doesn't get very far before Geto whines and tries to kick him in retaliation, missing narrowly.
"N-no," he gasps. "Please, don't... don't stop."
Gojo couldn't escape even if he wanted to, and he really doesn't want to, completely at Geto's mercy, like he was put on this earth to fulfill his every desire. Again, he lets saliva pool in his mouth before spitting it directly on Geto's tight hole, just so he can push it inside with his tongue. Get him all nice and slick for the real deal.
He alternates between tongue-fucking him and using his thumb to reach a bit deeper while his mouth leaves bites and hickeys wherever he can reach— this time Geto lets it happen, brain far too cloudy to stop it— until Geto's ass and thighs are decorated with sweet, little love marks that only Gojo can see. He chuckles a little, muffled, and sneaks a hand around to grip Geto's neglected dick, making him hiss and arch even further.
"F-uck... Oh my god, please— p-please."
Geto doesn't even care that he sounds wrecked already, pleading for anything like his sanity depends on it, mouth agape and drooling. For fuck's sake, he can feel his best friend's spit drip down his balls; he's allowed to be pathetic. Thank god Gojo's cocky mouth is busy, if not he'd be whispering insufferable, naughty things to Geto just to make him fluster. Gojo tightens his fist around his cock and jerks him faster, fucks his tongue deeper inside him until the muscles relax.
Geto chokes, his eyes clamping shut when the albino squeezes his tip. It's almost embarrassing how quick Gojo can get him to the edge. Other partners in the past would often get frustrated after 30 minutes of hopeful, albeit impatient stroking. Gojo has him ready to bust within ten.
"Gh! M'gonna cum— gotta stop. D-don't wanna cum yet."
And honestly, he's a little disappointed when Gojo actually pulls away with a little gasping breath and a big ol' smile. His hands are on him in seconds though, pulling away from his throbbing cock to knead the squishy muscles of his ass. Even spreads his cheeks a little to gawk at the now glossy hole.
"Always so eager," Gojo teases, running his fingers down his balls to collect the obscene amount of spit that had dribbled there. He uses the slick to easily slide one finger inside him slowly, letting him get used to the intrusion but still letting him feel a sting of resistance. Geto hisses, his back tensing up before he forces his muscles to relax. He knows from the first time they did this, he won't get more if Gojo feels him tense up, and that image has replayed itself over and over since it happened. Gojo knows him, knows his body, and that fact lit a fire in Geto's brain.
"S-says the one who practically attacked me once we got here," he slurs out, determined not to give his desperation away all at once but still failing pretty hard. Gojo snickers, pretty blush blooming across his pale skin, before he forces his finger deeper and hooks it. Geto instinctively bucks his hips back with a deep moan. His eyes even cross, and he's more than thankful Gojo couldn't see.
Gojo fucks his finger faster into the drooling hole in front of him. "Know I'm eager, baby. Been thinkin' about you for weeks, y'know?" he purrs. Geto's eyes widen in horror, his own blush flooding his chest now. He buries his face against the silk pillows and groans.
"Oh my god, shut up!"
Humiliatingly enough, his heart skips a loving beat, even as it hammers against his rib cage like it wants to escape and strangle Gojo itself. "You can't just say shit like that." A second long finger is being pushed inside him before he can chastise Gojo too much, drawing out a hiss. Gojo sucks his teeth just to feign annoyance, and resumes his pace.
"Ohhh, is that right?" he teases, now rutting against Geto's thigh while he fingers him open. He'd been hard the minute he got Geto on the bed, so finally allowing himself a bit of relief makes him shudder. "Am I bein' mean, Suguboo? You scared I'm gonna tell you that I liiike you?"
"What?!"
Damn, that came out a lot louder than Geto intended. He tries to cover it up with another moan, and thank god Gojo spares him the teasing. Only a little.
"Course I like you," he purrs, slowing his fingers down so he can squeeze another one in, maybe a little too quickly, but his sweet words have Geto's muscles relaxing on instinct. "I'm obsessed with you. C'mooon, don't tell me you never noticed."
Of course Geto had noticed (he'd be an idiot not to), but good god does it make him feel crazy. He always told himself that Gojo is just flirty by nature and he doesn't understand personal space because he was raised unconventionally, that he treats everyone like that; Geto isn't special. Gojo is far too full of himself to be interested in someone like him. Now, however, Geto's entire thought process is shutting down because the Chosen One, the Strongest, has him pinned beneath his eyes and arms, nearly confessing to him.
"F-fuck."
In that moment, a touch of sincerity and vulnerability slips through Geto's whimpering mouth and Gojo feels his brain melt. He pulls his fingers out of his slick hole and immediately flips Geto onto his back, can't help but grin down at him all wicked when his pretty amethyst eyes widen in shock.
"S'ok like this?" Gojo asks. More pants it out like a dog. He squeezes at Geto's hips and thighs to keep his hands busy and he swears he nearly busts when he nods frantically. There's an audible swallow as Gojo tries desperately to wet his throat. "Say it? Please, baby." The way his voice cracks a little makes Geto's breath catch. Gojo can tease him all he wants, but there's no denying he's just as desperate, if not more so.
"God— yes. Please, Satoru. Fuck me," Geto purrs, eyes hooded and glassy with need. His thighs even part sweetly and Gojo zeros in on the throbbing cock on his stomach. The next few seconds are a blur as Gojo strips his own clothes off, finally giving Geto a proper look at his lean, chiseled body. His cock seems bigger than he last remembered, and it makes his tongue feel suddenly very thick in his mouth.
Gojo's hands fly to his knees so he can press them to his torso, keeping him spread open. Really uses his strength and the new delicious pounds he'd gained recently from vigorous training. Not that Geto is powerless against him, having also built up quite a bit of mass himself, he submits willingly. Because he's enamored. He's just as obsessed. He's in love.
Before he can fully panic about that revelation, Gojo grips his cock and pushes the tip right against him. He tries to be patient, really he does, but the second he feels that warmth again, it's like he loses every ounce of control. It wasn't a lie when he said he's been thinking about this for weeks after all, and once the first inch pushes inside he can't help but force the rest. It makes Geto gasp— the pain is surprising, but not unwelcome— teeth buried in his lip to at least try and muffle the moan he lets out. God forbid they have another incident like with Nanami.
This position is different. Being folded at this angle gives Gojo the ability to drill him with ease, and this time Geto is completely at his mercy. It's overwhelming, teetering right on the edge of too much, but Geto's body accepts the onslaught perfectly. He gasps at the slow, brutal pace Gojo sets and clamps a hand over his mouth to muffle the sobs building in the back of his throat.
Gojo's hardly any better. Getting to see that pretty face contort in pleasure, watching those eyes roll back and glaze over, makes his cock throb inside the heavenly tightness wrapped around him. He pulls Geto's legs over his shoulders so he can lean down, get a better look at the blush, and the sweat already beading around his hairline.
"Fuck, Toru!" Geto chokes out, muffled, and Gojo is quick to join in on covering his mouth.
"Shh-shhh, baby," he whispers, trying desperately to bite back a cocky smile. His voice is shaky but he tries to keep it together just enough to comfort the man beneath him. "Know it feels good, I know. But we gotta be quiet, right? Don't wanna wake anyone up."
Geto nods and his eyes flutter shut when the thrusts quicken. Deepen. A sob wracks through his body and Gojo's teeth bare. He rips his hand away by the wrist, pins it, and plants the filthiest kiss on his lips, muffling and swallowing any cries that come out. Geto's eyes shoot open in shock, but he doesn't pull away, though every cell in his body wants him to. It's funny, even though he's literally fucking his friend, the kiss feels leagues too intimate. Too real. When Gojo's hand moves to gently cradle his cheek though, he melts into his mouth, his touch. His eyebrows furrow and he throws his arms around his neck like he wants to pull him inside his body impossibly deeper, it all makes Gojo's heart squeeze.
Their tongues hesitantly explore each other's mouths before they gain enough confidence to lick against one another— shamelessly. Moaning and swearing and drooling against each other's mouths like they couldn't get enough. Like years of friendship had built up and boiled over to this exact moment.
Geto pulls away, out of breath and panting. "G-god. I need more, please. More," he begs, voice raw and whispered as he sinks his nails into the albino's broad shoulders, sure to leave marks. Geto's cock pulses, and pulses, against his stomach, like it was asking for permission to let go. Begging for it, all red and wet and swollen. And who would Satoru Gojo be if he denied the angel beneath him?
He anchors himself to the mattress and fucks into him faster, more forceful, more intently. His hips pull out barely a fraction of an inch to keep that slick, throbbing warmth around his cock like he'd die without it.
"Y'just as greedy as I am, Sugu," he pants, bringing a sweaty hand down to jerk Geto off in quick succession. "Beggin' for it like such a good boy. My good boy, huh?"
Geto's spine bows off the mattress in a heavenly little arch, a choked out moan escaping his throat and he barely even cares that he's being loud now. He can't care, not when he's being held down, praised, and fucked like this. Gojo tries to catch the sound in his mouth but his body nearly gives out when the warmth around his dick tightens and flutters.
"Hahh, fuck," he whines against plush, wet lips. He pushes Geto's sweaty bangs from his forehead so he can look right at his pretty face with no obstructions. "Like that? Gonna cum from me sweet talkin' you? Cutest fuckin' thing in the whole world, baby, I swear."
His composure is slipping the closer he gets to cumming, but he tries to beat it back. If he can hold out for a little longer, he can time their orgasms so they perfectly align, and he can absorb every ounce of Geto's cursed energy. As if he wasn't drunk enough off his body, he needs his life force to flood his senses too. He needs to be closer, so close he can feel Geto's heartbeat in his throat. Nothing else will do.
Geto's cock twitches violently when he sees the near crazed look in Gojo's eyes, had seen it only once before when he was drunk off his own power.
"S-Sato! Satoru, I— fuck! Please, don't stop!" he cries, tears running down his pink, splotchy cheeks like watercolors. It all happens at once, like a million rubber bands snapping simultaneously. The energy in the heady dorm room cracks like a firework, and Geto's body seizes up. Time slows for a brief moment between the build up and release where Gojo can do nothing but watch the beautiful sight before him.
Geto's eyes blur, his vision fuzzing around the edges as his orgasm floods through his entire body, choking him. His cock throbs, kicking off his stomach to shoot white-hot ribbons of cum across his tummy and chest, effectively flooding the divots in his abs. His hole tightens up too, giving Gojo no choice but to rut against him like an animal, working off the basic instinct of breed, breed, breed.
"Gh—! F-fuck baby, my baby. You feel so good I— fuuuck, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you." Gojo babbles like an idiot, most likely unaware of what he even said. He barely even registers he's cumming too until his cock geysers out an obscene amount. He curses through it, relishing in the way his cock pushes against Geto's soft, slick walls with every heavy throb.
Gojo's very spirit, full to the brim with cursed energy, releases and his skin vibrates with power and exhaustion. Briefly, Geto swears he sees his irises glow, the black of his pupils nearly swallowed up by vibrant, electric blue. And it takes every ounce of strength to not let the lights shatter around them again. The entire room feels like it could crumble with a snap of his fingers if he's honest, but Gojo holds back, focuses on feeling the soft, sweating body beneath him. Around him.
Geto's energy tastes like warm milk and sugar, and everything Gojo is weak against. It's ironic, given the poor man's technique, but this goes beyond jujutsu. This is Geto's soul, his essence.
Gojo swallows the sugary spit that had flooded his mouth and lets out a string of curses and moans as he's forced back into his material body. The warmth around his cock and the scent of sex and lavender invade his senses comfortingly, and before he can stop himself, he's collapsing on top of Geto, who accepts the weight happily. Gojo buries his face in his neck like it's a safe haven, all the while stroking his strong hands across Geto's skin because he's handsy like that. It's almost as if to say 'I'm here with you and I love you. Let's breathe and be together.'
Geto's world is still spinning on the other hand. Panic had since faded away into a deep, dreamy satisfaction at being well spent and taken care of, and Gojo's weight keeps him tethered to reality. The two don't move for several minutes, going on years it seems, not even when the mix of sweat and cum starts to irritate their skin. As long as they keep touching, nothing else mattered. The shared mix of energy gently flows through both of them and soothes every muscle and ache, like a physical lullaby made specifically for them.
Eventually, Gojo takes in a deep breath and leaves a long, open-mouthed kiss against Geto's neck. He hums, satisfied, when he squirms beneath him and makes a small sound of pleasure, tilting his head to offer the albino more of his neck. Gojo complies with a chuckle, and leaves a sweet little trail up and down, and back up again until he reaches Geto's lips once more. The kiss is a lot softer now, slower, like he's savoring it for the first time.
Geto hums, pushing his tongue against Gojo's just to taste him a little longer before pulling away, eyes all hooded and shiny. Now that the fog in his brain is slowly dissipating, every moment, every word, comes flooding back with clarity.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Gojo immediately senses when Geto's nerves spike, and gives him a cheesy smile in hopes of calming him. "Pretty corny, huh?" he says, running his fingers through pretty, black hair. "Y'know, I always imagined confessing to you while we were on a romantic date. Row boat on a lake at sunset, surrounded by cherry blossoms type thing." He pauses when Geto's snorts a little and playfully pushes at his face. Gojo only nuzzles against his hand and kisses at the skin.
"I guess I'll have to save that for when I ask my Suguru to marry me, huh?"
Geto lets out a laugh this time, rolling his eyes even though his heart does beat a little harder. "Slow your roll there, pal," he says, pushing Gojo so they're lying face to face now. Gojo's dick is completely soft now, just staying as close as possible to still feel the heat of Geto's insides. "We've had sex twice now and you're already proposing? Don't tell me it was that good."
Gojo pouts, not unlike a bratty kid, but there's no real fire behind it. "Fine," he huffs dramatically. "Since you hate me now, I'll keep my future proposal to myself!"
The corners of Geto's eyes crinkle when he laughs harder, and Gojo immediately cracks a smile. If it was possible to drown in a sound, he'd want it to be that. Geto laughing with his full heart, particularly at the stupid shit he says. He snickers, snuggling closer and pulling Geto's head under his chin so he can feel his heartbeat.
"I love you, brat," he says, squeezing his arms around him like a protective shield. Geto's breath catches in his throat, almost too scared to admit that this is real. With a deep inhale, he snuggles closer to Gojo. His best friend. His lover.
theartofmadeline
titsay
2087
tangentwithtanner
