DiscoDance

18+ mdni

[discodancee]

discodancee

disco | she/he/they | 21

lover of all things satoru gojo

masterlist

always looking for friends, come say hi or drop an ask!

mdni. do not feed my work to ai. this blog is open to all and i will not tolerate bigotry of any kind.

[vesselhands]

can we just kiss while i grind on your thigh

[mimuju]

satoru is so mean! (╥﹏╥) (nsfw under the cut!)

your boyfriend is evil.

not in the way you’re thinking—no, he doesn’t kick puppies or steal candy from children (as tempting as that sounds). he just finds creative, deeply personal ways to ruin your day for his own amusement.

like when you’re running late for work and you open your sock drawer to find every single pair has been replaced with mismatched ones. you stand there, staring at the chaos, while satoru leans in the doorway with that insufferable grin.

"what’s wrong, baby?" he asks, all fake innocence. "can’t find a match?"

you throw a sock at his head. he dodges, laughing. "you’re the worst," you mutter.

or when you’re trying to study, your notes spread across the kitchen table, and he decides it’s the perfect time to test your focus.

he sits across from you, silent, watching. you ignore him for twenty minutes before you finally look up. "what?"

he’s holding a single grape between his fingers. "nothing," he says. then he flicks it. it bounces off your forehead.

you stare at him. "did you just—" another grape. you duck. "satoru gojo!"

he’s already reaching for a third. "what? i’m bored."

you slam your book shut and chase him around the apartment, your highlighter in hand like a weapon. he lets you catch him eventually, laughing as you tackle him onto the couch. "you’re insufferable," you pant, straddling him.

he grins up at you. "but you’re smiling, aren't you? i'd do anything to make you happy."

or when you’re on the phone with your mother, trying to have a normal conversation, and he decides to make it impossible. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, your phone pressed to your ear, when you feel his hands on your waist.

"satoru, not now," you whisper, covering the receiver.

he doesn’t listen. he drops to his knees in front of you, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts.

your eyes widen. "mom, uh, can you hold on a second—"

he yanks your shorts down in one smooth motion. you’re trying to kick him away, but he’s stronger, his mouth already pressing hot kisses to your inner thigh.

"sorry, mom, i just—i need to—" his tongue drags over your panties and you nearly drop the phone. "i’ll call you back!" you hang up, breathless, and glare down at him. "you’re going to get me in trouble."

he looks up, his eyes gleaming. "it'd be worth it."

or when you’re trying to cook dinner, following a recipe, and he keeps stealing the damn ingredients. you turn around for two seconds and your onion is gone.

you turn back and your garlic has vanished. "satoru," you warn, spinning around to find him leaning against the counter, chewing.

"what?" he asks, mouth full. "i’m hungry."

"i’m trying to make us dinner," you snap, reaching for another onion. he intercepts, his hand wrapping around your wrist.

"or," he says, pulling you closer, "we could order takeout. and i could eat you instead."

you stare at him. "that was terrible." he grins.

"and yet, you’re smiling again."

but the worst part is when he gets you into bed, because that’s when his particular brand of cruelty really shines.

he’s got you on your back, your wrists pinned above your head with one hand, and he’s been teasing you for what feels like hours. his fingers are inside you, two of them, curling against that spot that makes your vision blur. you’re close—so close—and he knows it. he always knows.

"t-toru, please," you beg, your voice cracking. "i need—i need to cum—"

"yeah?" he murmurs, his thumb brushing your clit in the lightest, most maddening touch. "you need it? is my pretty girl all worked up?"

you nod frantically, your hips rolling, trying to chase the sensation. he pulls his hand away entirely. you sob. "no, n-no, please—"

"aw, baby," he coos, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "you're so pathetic. it’s cute." he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean while you watch, helpless. "you taste good when you’re begging."

he starts again, his fingers sliding back inside you, his pace agonizingly slow. you’re panting, your thighs shaking, your mind going fuzzy at the edges. "toru! i can’t—i can’t take it—"

"yes, you can," he says, his voice calm, almost gentle. "you'll take whatever i give you. you wanna be good, don't you?" he curls his fingers, pressing hard, and you nearly scream. "that’s it. feel that? that’s mine. your pleasure is mine. i decide when you get it."

you’re crying now, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, your body trembling. he leans down, his lips brushing your ear. "you’re so pretty when you’re dumb like this. can’t even think, can you? just a pretty little toy for me." he adds a third finger, stretching you open, and you wail. "that’s okay, baby. you don’t need to think. i’ll do it for you. all you have to do is take it. you can do that, can't you?"

he brings you to the edge again, and again, and again. each time, he pulls back just before you can fall. your mind is gone, your body is on fire, and all you can do is sob his name like it’s the only word you know.

"satoru, p-please!!" you whimper, your voice hoarse. "i’ll do anything. please lemme cum, i-it hurts!"

he smiles, that sharp, wicked smile that means he’s nowhere near done with you. "it hurts?" he asks, his fingers still moving, still torturing you. you nod desperately. "poor baby," he mocks. "we can't have my sweetheart in pain, now can we?"

he presses his thumb to your clit and curls his fingers one last time, and you shatter. your orgasm crashes over you so hard you can’t breathe, your vision going white, your body convulsing. he doesn’t stop. he keeps his fingers moving, dragging it out, forcing you through it until you’re shaking and sobbing and begging him to stop.

"too muchh!!" you gasp. "s'toruu! it’s too much—"

"shh, hush now," he says, his voice low and dark. "you can take it, you're doing so well."

he shifts, his cock replacing his fingers, and you barely have time to process before he’s pushing inside you, filling you completely. you’re so sensitive, so overstimulated, that the stretch is almost painful. you cry out, your hands fisting the sheets.

"thaaat’s it," he groans, his hips snapping forward. "take my cock. take it like the good girl you are. you’re so—shit— so fucking tight after you cum, baby. feels so good." he fucks you hard, his pace relentless, his hand sliding between you to rub your clit again. "you still with me?"

you’re babbling now, your words slurring together, your mind completely gone. "satoru—fuck—i can’t—i can’t!!—"

you cum again, your walls clamping down on him so hard he groans, his rhythm faltering. he fucks you through it, his hand still working your clit, and you’re sobbing, your body shaking, your mind nothing but static and pleasure and him.

"that’s it," he praises, his voice rough. "good girl. such a good girl for me. look at you, so stupid. can’t even speak, can you?"

he cums with a groan, his hips stuttering, his cock pulsing inside you. you feel the heat of it, the way he fills you, and it sends you over the edge one more time, your third orgasm ripping through you like lightning. you’re crying, your body trembling, your mind completely blank.

he collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck. for a long moment, neither of you moves. then he rolls off you, pulling you into his arms, his hand stroking your hair.

"you okay?" he asks, his voice soft now, gentle. you nod, your face buried in his chest.

"you’re mean," you mumble.

he laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "yeah. but you love me."

you don’t answer. you just press closer, your body still humming, your mind still fuzzy. and yeah. you do.

--

babygirl : @sadisticslut666

perm - @whorishminds @besidesjustmyamour @throatgoatgeto @go-go-gadget-autism @thecrazyfangirlthings@grignardsreagent @strawberryshortcakkitty @naammiii @liasacountgothacked @annicishana @my-starlights @error-racoon-404 @afreakforyautja @cupidstrace @iam-souless@sindulgent666 @chewiebee @tojisballhair @ex1acy @palanggaaa@yourlocalcatscammer @ehcilhc @gravecyte @restingoasis @satorupi@laburantesdoll @sxpernova @thethyri @lostgeto @lilytrn @mikaari0 @chososballhair @nanamissilkytie @iwasabs @tojis-juicymantitys @laitifly @farylfordaryl @bl1ndv3lvet @booboobear-12 @6arcxm @sleeplessdancer @chloeee20 @deartoru @neptunezxx @ash273819 @sketchbonked @vanillakirstein @valberryboos @itimisu @livviaaaaa@kebablover @babyluvlol @audreytoru

[discodancee]

oh mean satoru you are so so special to me

[senalaced]

you'd both known what this arrangement was from the beginning—a mutually beneficial relationship strictly for sex (and well-cultivated cannabis).

satoru doesn't do commitment, and you never cared for more than a good, no strings attached fuck occasionally with how your schedule is set up. your dealer (who could maybe classed as a friend if you squinted) offered that and good weed? how could you possibly say no!

the scent of smoke hangs in the air, thick and cloying, joint burning steadily. a singular gram seemed like more than enough to pass between you two, and satoru's always so inclined to share with you free of charge these days. the filter end is held in an easy grip between his thumb and index, free hand warming your naked hip.

this hadn't been your plan for tonight, really. unwinding by smoking with the man had been, yes... just not half-naked with your shirt shoved above your bra-clad tits, practically cockwarming him. you'd only come over here to leech off of him—for free weed from a familiar face.

his gaze locks on yours, cherry glowing red in the dim light as he takes a long drag, exhaling a white, wispy cloud out of the direct path of your face. then he's taking yet another one, free hand sliding up from your hip to hold your face in an easy grip, fingers pressing in to squish your cheeks, head tilting toward yours. the smoke he exhales this time travels in a slow, deliberate stream. it's warm and earthy as it rolls along your tongue, clinging to your taste buds, settling at the back of your throat. you lips press together, holding it for a few seconds just to feel that slight burn in your lungs, body already beginning to hum as the high settles even deeper. "mm.." you exhale with a low sigh, smoke a cloudy puff that obscures his face momentarily.

"good?" he questions, thumb tracing the gentle slope of your cupid's bow, smoothing over the dip before his hand falls away again. the loss has you squirming just a little, trying to get some sort of attention in your hazy state—which he quickly puts an end to, hand heavy and solid as it closes against the curve of your hip.

"nuh uh," he hums, barely biting back a smug grin, not even giving you a second glance. "you’re good where you are. don’t be greedy."

"huh?" you stare him down, a little dumbfounded. he's the picture of perfect nonchalance, thumb drawing shapes on your flesh, taking yet another hit—all languid like he's not literally buried inches deep inside of you. "but 'm not good where I am," you argue, voice carrying that slightly breathless cadence, the one it always gets when you're all wound up.

"really? I think you are." lidded eyes fix on yours, teeth flashing in a small smile. he doesn't make any move to give you what you so clearly want, just shifts his wrist to turn the joint so the burning end is facing him, other end to you. common sense tells you it's to take a hit, so your lips part, closing around the tip when he places it close enough.

"atta girl," he murmurs, pulling back when you inhale sufficiently, mouth close enough that you can return the favor from earlier. he steals the secondhand breath of smoke like he's owed something, pecking your lips after like it's the most casual thing to do between... well, whatever you two would be classed as at this point.

"are you really not letting me move?"

"you're catching on quickly." his head falls onto the backing of the couch, lengthy digits flexing on your hip when you shift again. "I said to stop doing that."

"why not?" you ask, trying to sound casual, but it damn near sounds like you're whining, voice thin and reedy with your building need. "why are you torturing me? aren't we friends?"

"of course we are, pretty." his thumb circles your hip bone, gaze on you not one you analyze too closely. "but you can't move because.." he says it slowly, like he's making sure there's no room for you to misunderstand. like high-you only has a few working brain cells. "..you came here to smoke."

...that's it? he's so stuck on the fact that you came here to smoke with him that he disregards you half-naked in his lap and making a mess on his cock? "…okay? so what?"

"so what?" he gasps like you'd said something scandalous, pulling back to fix you with an incredulous look. "weren't you the one on the phone saying 'i'm not coming over to fuck this time, satoru'? you were."

his imitation of you is all high and pitchy, near insultingly inaccurate. your narrowed eyes are a clear glimpse into your building annoyance.

"so we're not doing that. we're smoking because that's what you came here for. so," both hands keep you firmly planted, hips shifting ever so slightly, "do your part and stay still."

"what the hell was the point in letting me sit on it then?" you bite, squirming again, trying to angle his blushing tip somewhere sensitive—but he stops you cold with a single, stinging slap to your ass that only serves to sink you deeper into your building arousal.

satoru pretends to think for a moment, softly 'hmm'-ing under his breath in his contemplation. "for fun?" he says simply, large hand gently massaging your stinging flesh, squeezing it in his palm. "what’s the issue?"

"well, since you’re asking—"

"you didn’t say you wanted to fuck. you said you needed to 'chill.'" his tone dips lower in a way that makes your stomach turn over, shoulders lifting in a shrug. "doesn't this seem chill enough?"

"you're really, really fucking insufferable, you know that?" you huff, fingers digging into the top of his shoulders and biting into flesh, wriggling a little in his hold. just enough to finally drag his bulbous head against that spot where he's settled far too deep, mouth slackening. "mmf—fuck you, seriously."

"oh, i'm sure you'd like that." he tuts at your clear, too-obvious attempt at fucking yourself on his cock yet again, hand sliding up to your waist since holding you elsewhere doesn't seem to be working out too well. not that he's trying too hard at this point. "maybe next time."

you wish you could just grab him by that pretty, slender neck and wring it for playing with you like this. he's the one that’d kissed you when you’d gotten here, all nasty with his tongue in your mouth, hands on your ass. he's the one that'd gotten you mostly out of your damn clothes and perched on his cock—but, what? now he's oh-so set on respecting your 'no sex this time' comment?

your head drops down into the crook of his neck instead, long suffering groan warming his skin. "you're the worst person on earth and I seriously hate you."

oh, how he loves when you pretend you can't stand him.

"mm, I'm sure you do, baby." a hand drags up your spine, warm and lazy, like a reward for actually keeping still. the worst part about getting this close is that it’s easier for his scent to start filling your nose, clinging to your senses like it’s trying to brand itself there. smoke and soap, that heady cologne forgone today—but he still smells so good. "maybe make your intentions clear and you'll get what you want next time."

"this was not my intention."

"oh?" and just to be an ass, just to fuck with you, the hands on your waist ease you up, letting gravity do all the work as you fall right back down into his lap, fat of your ass smacking against his thighs. it punches a strained sound right out of your throat, hands grabbing at him, core throbbing around where you’re connected. it's somehow worse with how long you'd been sat with zero friction, every inch hitting somewhere deeper.

his mouth eases closer to your ear, lips brushing against the soft slope. "well, that's too bad then, isn't it?"

an arm bands around your lower back to inch you forward, tits crushed against his chest as you press into him, arms finding themselves draped across his shoulders. all the shifting isn't doing you any favors, but at least with his hand not keeping you down, you can move your hips in the tiniest bounces, tip pressing into that one spot he’s usually loves targeting.

"mm, satoru.." you moan into his neck, hands grabbing at the back of the back of the couch for more leverage, hips starting to rise higher and fall faster. "just—ugh, please? just fuck me already."

"you’re so easy to mess with," he snorts, bringing the joint back to his mouth and between his lips again. it's hard to pretend to be unaffected when you're quite literally bouncing in his lap unrestrained, just begging him to give you something to feel better. to just fuck you already.

so he obliges, of course, free hand moving to your ass to lift you just high enough. enough to unseat himself, precum slick head just barely nudging your folds. your hands grip at his shoulders like you don't trust yourself—or his single hand—to keep you balanced, head pulling out of his neck to look down at him. "'mm, what are you d—"

then he brings you right back down with a solid motion till your thighs press to his, burying himself in one firm stroke. once, twice, a third time—back-to-back lifting and dropping you, letting just his tip press against your fluttering entrance before he's sinking back home, refamiliarizing himself with the rhythm of fucking you.

"oh..oh fuck—oh fuck, keep doing that." your breathing gets shakier with every pass, every slow stroke in and out of your soaked cunt. satoru's watching you now, eyes flicking down to where you're taking him, watching your body try to keep him tightly in place every time he pulls even an inch out.

it’s a sudden change in pace from not moving, feet suddenly planted, hips driving up into you at a pace that forces the air right out your lungs. satoru snubs the burning end of the blunt out and abandons it, both hands a firm weight on the curve of your ass. spreading, gripping to bounce you on the length of his cock. obscene wet sounds fill the room, slick mixture built up between you two smearing down his shaft with every withdrawal and hilting.

your nails claw at his shoulders for purchase, head lifting out of his neck to pant against his cheek, mouth moving further east till he’s crushing his against yours again. he swallows every sound you make and fucks up into you harder. his kiss is all tongue and teeth, your hands scratching his undercut, sliding into pale locks—his guiding your movements with more urgency than before. you hadn't been the only one affected, clearly. the taste of him is all sweet and smokey on your tongue, practically chasing his mouth as he pulls back, lips kiss-swollen. "ah-haah, satoru...feels so good."

one hand slides up your back to undo your bra clasp in a single practiced motion. the straps go slack, hand instantly finding one of your freed breasts—squeezing, tugging at your stiff bud. your body jolts from the impact of him driving into you, tit bouncing in his palm.

"always so soft and pliant when you're high," he coos, gaze lifting just to see your expression crumple when he fucks you full again, relishing in all the whines and cries pouring out of you.

"what happened to not fucking, hm?"

author's note :: 𑣲⋆ edited repost from previous account ˙ᵕ˙ likes and reblogs appreciated, thanks for reading!

[johnny-depp-is-loved]

[xbeckittyx]

[cokewh0rezyh]

you guys don’t even understand how cool of a character gojo is. hes witty and caring, and arrogant in a sexy way. BUT ALSO A LITTLE LONELY AND SAD AND MISUNDERSTOOD?!!?!??! YEAH OK COME HERE NOW DADDY

[kerosenee-kisses]

7th Inning Stretch

Gojo Satoru | Jujutsu Kaisen

Summary: You’ve never had an orgasm. At least you don’t think you have. Gojo is determined to help you out. cw: MDNI, afab reader, aided masturbation, oral sex (receiving), fingering, handjobs, 69, loss of virginity, allusions to past satosugu because I'm greedy wc: 13.4k a/n: been too long since I wrote anything for tumblr!!! my life is only serious writing these days (a blessing and a curse). while I didn't think gojo would be my first JJK victim, I'm not mad at it. anyway, I'm too impatient to post this at a normal hour for me, pls enjoy. not proofread because I'm so tired.

Part 1 - Batter Up!

You hate waiting in the morgue. When you're laying on the cold steel of an examination table meant for cadavers, your only company the harsh fluorescent overhead lights and stark white walls, you have to actively remind yourself that, no, you're not in seclusion at a psych ward, but rather waiting on the results of the array of tests you basically forced Shoko to conduct. A full blood panel, urinalysis, an EKG, a CT scan. She'd drawn the line at an MRI, fixing you with a bored look as she explained how unnecessary it was given the list of symptoms you'd provided her with. Still, you insisted on the rest. For your own peace of mind, you absolutely need the comprehensive testing to figure out why your body is betraying you.

So here you are, wallowing alone in the morgue, trying to tell yourself that laying in here is not a bad omen. But your brain is intent to conjure up one worst case scenario after the next. That might need to be studied as well, your commitment to not only prolong but exacerbate your suffering. 

It's your own fault you're in here anyway; you'd wanted more privacy to discuss your concerns. And now that you have, you can only hope against hope that Shoko can get to the bottom of your recent medical issues.

A quick rap at the door makes you bolt upright. Shoko comes back into the room, the set of her mouth especially grim. It's the same face she makes when her fingers are twitching for a cigarette that she will ultimately deny herself. 

"Give it to me straight, doc. What's my diagnosis?"

She takes a seat on the rolling stool beside the examination table. "Headaches, chest and stomach pain, trouble sleeping. All could mean one thing."

"Cancer?"

"Stress."

"Stress? Are you serious?" you ask, and Shoko nods. "But you said my blood pressure was high and—"

"Higher than usual. And that is more than likely caused by stress."

"That makes no sense. The splitting headaches and-and all this pressure on my chest. Sometimes, I can't even get a breath in right–"

"All linked to stress, stress, and more stress. Chronic stress, at this point." Shoko rolls over to her computer and types up her findings into your health record. "Makes sense though. You have been working around the clock these days. Gotta take care of yourself, no one will care about your health more than you do."

You're grateful that it's not a more serious diagnosis like your brain had spent the better part of an hour convincing you of, but you feel far from relieved. You almost wish it was something less ambiguous than stress. Something with a clear solution, like medication, a change in diet, maybe even a shot. But stress? Stress could break your body down this bad? Seriously?

"Well, how do you handle stress then?" you ask.

"Used to be cigarettes but, you know," she sighs wistfully. "Nowadays, martinis and whiskey sodas. Utahime's proven to be a pretty good stress reliever as well."

"Utahime? What do you mean— Oh."

"Yeah, recent development. Anyway, you might need a fuck buddy or something. Regular sex is known to reduce stress levels pretty effectively. Maybe invest in a magic wand, they're efficient."

"I already have one of those. The wand that is."

You can't say that your line of work lends itself to dating, let alone hook ups. When you had been on the carousel of dating apps years ago, all your dates ended one of two ways: you abruptly leaving in pursuit of some cursed spirit, or excusing yourself to the bathroom to hit up Shoko and beg her to call back in the next ten minutes with a convincing life or death emergency so you could cut the evening short. You're sure acquiring a fuck buddy would prove impossible, not that you're especially keen on the idea.

"I suggest you get well acquainted with that thing then so the stress doesn't end up killing you."

"It's just…the thing is…" You take in a deep breath. "It doesn't work on me."

Shoko pauses her typing to look at you. When you nod sheepishly, she furiously types something on the keyboard then turns the monitor your way.

"This is it, right? A hitachi?"

"Yeah."

"And it doesn't get you off?"

"Never once. At least I don't think it has. I'd know if I had an orgasm right?"

"A good one will make you forget your given name. So if you have to ask, it's safe to say you've never had one."

You lay back down and groan. "Not only am I gonna die, I'm gonna die without ever having had an orgasm."

"Come on, you've survived way too much for your tombstone to say 'Stressed to Death.' Let's go partake in one of my favorite stress relievers. A nice, cold beer."

Shoko stands before you on the table and pulls you to your feet. You didn't think she'd ever have to drag you out of a place like this. Hopefully a drink or two will be enough to forget that your body is not only attacking itself, but it's also defective.

Grateful your night binge drinking with a functioning alcoholic didn't result in a hangover, you decide to take a slow approach to your day, determined to mitigate your stress. 

Shortly after your third drink, you'd drunkenly called Principal Yaga to tell him that you loved and appreciated him so much (the memory still makes you wince) and to see if you could arrange some sort of sabbatical. To your pleasant surprise, he approved, which prompted more sobs of appreciation and adoration before Shoko confiscated your phone. Barring any serious security threats, you were relieved of most of your responsibilities outside of teaching.

You pull up a yoga video and replicate the flows in your room, basking in the quiet of the early morning as you breathe deep, in tune with your every muscle as you bend and stretch. Despite the sorry state you've been in, your body is strong yet limber, and for that you are especially grateful. 

Once you finish with your morning meditation, you take a long, hot shower. Lather your body with a special lavender soap that you'd been gifted so long ago. The thick, elegantly decorated paper that once preserved the bar of soap boasts that it originated from France. It had been a struggle to set it free; you'd always told yourself that you would save it for some special occasion, but clearly nothing had been so special in the years since receiving it that you deemed it worthy of busting out your expensive bar of luxury soap. Besides, if you're bound to die, you might as well use it at least once.

And the life-changing experience of washing yourself with it is enough to inspire you to go through a whole skin care routine, head to toe. Instead of rubbing moisturizer onto your face and calling it a day, you slather your skin with the soap's accompanying body oil and body butter until you're soft and glowing. Loathe as you are to admit, it does help you feel more relaxed, the calming scent of lavender on your pampered skin.

Back in your room, you search for your most comfortable lounge wear. You decide to forgo the bra today, and pull on a cute tank top. Baggy sweatpants sit low on your hips, almost revealing the frilly hem of your well-worn pair of cheekie underwear. 

Breaking with tradition, you prepare your first real breakfast in weeks. If you bothered to put anything in your body in the morning, it would be instant coffee, and, if you were lucky (i.e. missed dinner the night prior), it'd be accompanied by buttered toast. But today, you pull out all the stops. Brew some green tea, prepare a miso soup, broil some mackerel, set the rice cooker until it sings. The act of cooking for yourself, even something as simple as this, is really quite enjoyable. It's a shame you rarely have enough time to cook more often.

With everything prepared and plated, you take a seat at the dining table and sample a bit from each bowl laid out before you. It's quiet in the kitchen today, so you can really savor your meal. It's a day off for the students, so you don't have to worry about them sneaking into faculty housing to bother you. Neither Itadori nor Panda are here to beg for a bite. No Kugisaki to plead with you, please bring me into the city for a 'much needed' shopping spree. You have another bite of mackerel with rice and sigh. This is bliss.

You're only halfway through your meal when your phone buzzes in your pants pocket. It's a text message from Shoko consisting of one word: sorry. 

"Sorry? What the hell?" You put down your chopsticks to text her as much. The ellipsis on her end appears at once then disappears. This continues in rapid succession. What is so difficult for her to say? You tap out a message asking whether everything is okay.

"Sooo."

You glance up from your phone to a grinning Gojo leaning over you. He's in casual clothes too, having ditched his trademark uniform and blindfold for a pale grey hoodie, matching sweats, and sunglasses so dark you can see only your reflection in them. You're never sure what's more unsettling– seeing his eyes, or not seeing them at all.

"Morning, Gojo," you say before sending a new message to Shoko. 

"A little birdie told me that your poor little pussy is broken."

Your phone clatters to the ground,and you look up at your amused comrade in abject horror. 

"Shoko told you that?" you ask, thoroughly beside yourself. Whatever happened to doctor-patient confidentiality? APPI? Girl Code?

"Didn't need to. At least, not directly." Gojo tips his sunglasses down so you can clearly see the mirth glittering in his crystalline eyes. He winks exaggeratedly at you, and in this moment, you're sure the mortification will get you before the stress ever does.

"Don't give me that look. I'm not here to tease you," he says, pushing his glasses back up. "Unless you want me to."

"If you know what's good for you–"

"Easy, easy," he says, hands raised as he takes a step back. "No need to stress yourself out even more. I just came over here to offer my services. I'm guaranteed to make you come."

You're finding it hard to compute what's happening. There's no way Gojo is smiling in your face talking about fixing your 'broken pussy'.

"But aren't you a virgin?" you ask, genuinely curious.

His face falls. "Do you want the help or not?"

“You’re the one who asked if you could help! I never said I needed–"

“Tell you what! I'll give you some time to think about it. Why don't I stop by your living quarters later tonight, hm? Sound good?"

For some reason, you hesitate to tell him to fuck off and not even bother stopping by later. You actually stop to consider his offer. Yes, he's a piece of work, but he's also one of few men you trust implicitly. You're comfortable around him, you actually know him. And while he can be playful and joke around too much, you know he won't make you feel too self-conscious about your lack of experience. And it's not like you have anything to prove, it's just Gojo. Annoying, reliable… easy on the eyes Gojo. He might just be the perfect person to help you.

"…I might want your help," you answer finally.

"What was that?" Gojo asks, cupping one ear to hear you better.

You shoot him a glare but still grit out, "I said yes…I want you to help me."

"Amazing!" Gojo claps and rubs his hands together. "Come on. Let's go."

"What? Go?" you ask, eyes wide as he comes around the table and pulls you out of your seat.

"To your room," he says.

"Now? What happened to later tonight?" You can only look back at your phone and half-eaten breakfast forlornly as you're marched through the halls of Jujutsu Tech.

"No time like the present," he says, glancing back at you. "Besides, I'd hate to have to exorcise you when the stress consumes your very being."

Your breath hitches. You hadn't even considered that as a real possibility. That would be a fate worse than death. With newfound determination, you pick up your pace until you're the one pulling Gojo along.

"Oooh, someone's eager," he says when you pull your door open and usher him inside.

"Well, I don't want to die and I especially don't want you Hollow Purpling me." You slide the door shut and go to check the drawers of your dresser. You could've sworn you had one singular condom hidden in here from your dating days. In hindsight, you should have known it would go unused because you'd have never brought anyone here of all places for a hookup.

The condom is hidden among your t-shirts in the third drawer, a flash of cerulean foil. You hold it up with the same level of pride and apprehension as you would one of Sukuna's necrotic fingers.

But Gojo only shakes his head. "We don't need that."

"What? Why not?" 

"Well for starters, you're shaking like a leaf." He closes the distance between you and plucks the condom from your hand—which is, in fact, trembling a bit. He turns the condom over and snorts. "Plus, this is wayyyy too small for me."

You lightly smack him in the stomach. "Yeah, right."

"I'll prove it to you! Another time, though. For now, why don't you grab that toy you don't know how to use?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Remember, six eyes equals all seeing Gojo Satoru." He flops onto your bed, hands behind his head. "Take your time looking for it, I'll be patient. I know it's probably covered in cobwebs."

You open your mouth to retort but shut it just as quickly. He's right; you can't remember when that thing last saw the light of day. You'd gotten so frustrated with the wand the last time you'd used it that you hid it too well. You have to scour the room before you find it, still in it's original box.

"Not sure if it still works," you say when you approach Gojo again, pulling the wand from the plastic bag it came in. The instruction manual flutters to the floor. 

"It's a wall plug in. And you've probably used it like what, twice?" He takes the wand from you, turns it over for a thorough inspection. He takes the cord and plugs it into the wall. When he flicks the switch on the wand it, unsurprisingly, hums to life.

"Seems like it still works to me," Gojo says. He flicks to the higher setting before powering the wand off. "But who cares? The true test is seeing if it can get you off."

Gojo sits up against your mountain of pillows and pats the empty space between his legs. You crawl into bed with him and sit so there's still space between you both.

"You're way too far," he says. "I promise not to bite you today."

"Today?"

"Come on, sit back. Make yourself comfortable."

You shift closer to him but Gojo is the one to close the distance. With an arm braced around your middle, he tugs you until your back is flush with his chest.

"Much better," he hums in your ear, sending a shiver through you. That's new. "So tell me, what do you usually do when you use this thing?" He twirls the magic wand in the air, ready to grant your wish.

"Uh, I'll put a towel down, take off my pants and just stick it down there."

"Eh? That's it?"

"Pretty much. I'll use some lube, too."

"Where's the fun in that? You need to seduce yourself. No wonder you're in such dire straits."

"According to Reddit, that wand can make someone come in seconds."

"Yeah, with some build up. Let me show you a proper seduction."

Gojo flicks the switch on the wand again, but instead of pulling a you and sticking it right between your legs he places it at dip of your neck. He drags the toy to your shoulder then back, the vibrations easing the tension out of your muscles. You shut your eyes as he moves the wand to the opposite side, following the trail of your clavicle to massage your other shoulder. Back and forth until you relax in his hold with a sigh.

When he brings the wand back to the base of your neck this time, he guides it down the center of your chest. The vibrations spread throughout your torso. He charts a path to your left breast and circles your clothed nipple, already straining against your tank top. Your breath hitches when he finally moves the wand to your pert peak.

"Like that?" he asks, amused, and again, his voice right by your ear does something strange to your body.

"Y-yeah. Feels nice."

"What'd I tell you?" he asks as he flicks the head of the wand against your other nipple. 

"Hey, don't get all smug," you say, voice quivering as the wand travels down your belly. "I haven't come yet."

"Oh, but you will," he promises. "You mind taking these off?" Gojo pinches the thin material of your lounge pants. You raise your hips in order to slide them off, but drop down abruptly when you start to tug the waist down.

"Just my pants right? I can keep my underwear on?"

"Suit yourself. But I almost guarantee you'll be tearing them off yourself when I'm through with you."

You roll your eyes but still shimmy your bottoms off, leaving you only in your very unsexy underwear. You're honestly glad you opted for such an ordinary pair, you'd hate for Gojo to tease you if you had worn anything remotely sensual.

Gojo takes his time with the wand, tracing it along the scalloped edge of your underwear, right at your thigh. It feels good. You close your eyes, sighing as he works the wand across your pelvis to the other thigh. Even without a climax you might have reason to feel grateful to him. You had no idea you could get such a great massage from a sex toy.

Your hips jolt up when the toy ghosts over the hood of your clit and along the cleft of your cunt. It travels down to your entrance, which contracts when the vibrating head presses against it before traveling back up your lips, just shy of your clit. Gojo takes his time moving the wand over your mound until your breath becomes shaky. When he finally does graze your clit, your entire body tenses. He moves the wand in little circles that makes your outstretched legs bend, your toes curl.

"Still feels good?" Gojo asks, amusement clear in his tone. He presses the wand down on your clit and your back curves and tenses. "I know it does. But you gotta relax. Take some deep breaths."

You try to follow his instructions, try to steady your breathing but that only makes the teasing more intense.

"I-I feel weird Gojo. I don't know about this."

"You must be close," he says. "Just let go, ok? Don't be shy."

He flicks the wand to the second setting and you fall back against him, panting hard as the vibrations grow in intensity. He doesn't give your clit a break, rubbing the wand against it without mercy.

You feel it in your feet first, a numbing tingle across the soles like you're losing sensation in them. But it feels good, and you really can't explain why. Your legs start to shake and you throw your head back against Gojo's shoulder.

"Oh, fuck," you whisper, sounding pitiful. You've never felt like this when you used the wand, and even if you were able to get to this point, you fear that you would shut the wand off before–

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Your blood singes in your body as pleasure seizes your body, your release soaking through your panties until they're dark grey at the gusset.

"Nice job," Gojo says. You turn to look at him; he looks particularly pleased. But he doesn't let up, just keeps moving the wand along your sex.

"Turn it off," you say even as your hips rock up when the wand travels back up to your clit.

"See, that's part of your problem. You gotta keep chasing that feeling. You're so lucky I'm here to show you."

This time when he presses on your clit, your legs close around the vibrating toy.

"Nuh-uh." Gojo grabs your left leg with his free hand and wrenches it away from the other. He hooks his leg over yours to keep them in place and doubles down on his efforts until you're crying from the pleasure this time. You're sure your bed is bound to be drenched too, but you hardly care when all your nerves are alight, your pussy clenching, desperate to be full of something.

"I think you can take one more. How's that sound? Want me to give you one more, baby?"

"Mhm!" You desperately pull your panties aside and Gojo laughs low in your ear, sending another full body shiver through you. You don't think you've ever heard a laugh that you would categorize as sexy, but you'll probably have wet dreams about that one.

"See? I was right about that too." He grabs your panties himself, tears them off so he can put the wand directly on your dripping sex. You jerk at the direct contact and your arousal splashes with each pass along your cunt, but you can't find it in you to feel embarrassed.

"I can't see your cute little clit," Gojo complains, and you reach a hand down to part your lips so the stiff bud is on display. Gojo smiles at you in a way that you can only describe as evil before he starts rubbing your clit with the wand. Your entire body bows; the vibrations travel just under your skin, heat your blood to a fever pitch. The tingling in your feet grows and you grab Gojo's wrist tight, nervous about what's coming, but he's much stronger than you are. He presses down harder on your clit and you whine as you come hard, a spray of arousal that soaks the bed. Still, Gojo keeps the wand on you until you weakly push his hand away.

"Too much," you nearly slur.

Gojo shuts the wand off and places it on your bed. He releases your leg and pets your arm as you come down from the most intense orgasm you've had to date. You feel drowsy and sated.

"That was fun, right?"

You nod weakly, and Gojo chuckles again. You jump when his hands find your waist, but he only shifts you to the other side of the mattress, still dry. You furrow your brow at him as he slips off of your bed and unplugs the wand.

"Glad I could be of service, then. Hopefully the lesson sticks for when you need to rub one out yourself next time."

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Oh, right. My bad." He plugs the toy back in and places it on the bed again. "Didn't realize you'd want to try it out yourself right away."

"Where the hell are you going?" you ask, your tone so severe that even you wince.

"Sent the kiddies on a mission with a first grade curse, figured I'd check on them. I know, I know, don't give me that look," he says, though the glare that you've fixed him with has nothing to do with his unorthodox teaching style for once. "They welcomed the challenge and I fully believe in them. Anyway, I better make sure no one died again. I'll catch you later."

It's only when the door slides shut that you can come to grips with what just happened. Gojo made you come for the first time in your life. Not only that, but he made you squirt too, leaving you with a load of laundry to deal with. He even reduced your most comfortable pair of panties to scraps of fabric. And, as if to make matters worse, he'd called you 'baby'. Why did he call you baby? Maybe he hadn't noticed. Hell, you barely noticed, you were so desperate in the moment. But now that you can form coherent thoughts…you're just left with confusion. Had he said that to keep you in the mood? Had he slipped up in the heat of the moment? 

You must have lost your mind to have gone through with this in the first place. But you can't fully fault yourself, you'd thought you would die otherwise. But maybe you should have picked up some rando after all.

You pull your throw blanket over your body and curl into fetal position under it. You'd have never gone through with this with some random guy, that much is true. You just didn't realize something like this could alter how you see one of your oldest friends.

Why were you so mad that he'd left like nothing happened just now? He was doing you a favor, not wooing you. Right?

Your door slides open again, and when you pop your head out from under your blanket to see Gojo again, your heart soars. You can't help it or make sense of it.

"Back so soon? I hope that doesn't mean all your students died."

He crosses the room in two long strides and holds your phone out for you. You grab it from him and see your most recent notification is from Gojo himself.

"I went to text you that I finished your breakfast for you, but then I saw your phone on the ground and figured I'd be a good friend and return it to you. You're welcome."

You can't really form words right now, disappointment weighs down your tongue.

"Now I'm gonna check on the students, ye of little faith. I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Yeah," you choke out. "See you around."

The confusion returns tenfold. He'd referred to himself as a 'good friend' just now, but what if you don't want him to be just that? Is an orgasm or three all it takes to see someone who has been a nuisance for over a decade in a whole new light? Enough to catch feelings? You've certainly developed crushes on people for less.

In the midst of your conundrum, the confusion gives way to irritation.

"That bastard ate the rest of my fucking food."

Part 2 - Bases Loaded

You have a serious problem. You can't seem to come without Gojo. He didn't do anything all that special the other day. Well… he said he'd show you seduction and that's exactly what he did. But in the days following his 'lesson' all attempts at masturbation have ended in complete and utter failure, just like before. The closest you got was when you'd closed your eyes and remembered him saying in your ear, "Want me to give you one more, baby?"

"Damn you, Gojo," you mutter as you yank the wand's cord from the outlet so you can toss it to the foot of your bed. He's effectively ruined you for even yourself, which is far from ideal. You've been the horniest you've ever been following that day and you're in no position to deal with it, not on your own. Things would have been better off if you'd looked for outlets other than orgasms to reduce your stress, like nightly baths in the glow of dozens of burning candles, or a weekend at the spa complete with deep tissue massages and saunas galore.

You have half a mind to call Gojo when there's a knock on your door.

"In a minute!" You pull your pants back on and throw the accursed wand back in the drawer of your nightstand before you open the door.

"Gojo? What are you doing here?" you ask. Your stomach does a little flip that you're far from happy about. 

"I'm here for your next lesson, what else?" Gojo pushes past you to sit on your bed.

"Next lesson? What are you on about?" 

"You're inexperienced, which is just a shame. I figured it's only right that we continue your sex ed with some more of the basics."

You shut your door and turn to face him. "What did you have in mind?"

He looks surprised, only for a moment before that cocky smile lights up his face. "Figured you haven't been to third base yet."

"Third base?" you ask, brows furrowing in confusion. Your mind immediately goes to the first and last time you'd played baseball at Gojo's behest, when you were all still students at Jujutsu Tech. Your performance had been exceptionally bad– you'd tried to explain to everyone beforehand that you were athletic in the sense that you could flip onto a curse's back and rip it's head off, not kick a ball into the goal or net or whatever was expected of you in a game of baseball. You'd been picked last for a team as a result, but that still meant you had to play. Gojo spent the whole game doubled over in laughter when you'd strike out within a minute of going up to bat. You'd been lucky enough for the ball to glance off the side of your bat during one of the later innings, but by the time you'd slid to first base, Geto had the ball in hand to get you out. To his credit, he had looked apologetic about it even as Gojo hacked up a lung in the outfield.

"You know I suck at baseball, no need to bring up how bad I am at it now," you snap.

"Whoa, looks like I hit a nerve," he says. Gojo reaches for your hand and pulls you to him so that you're standing between his spread legs. "No need to get all prissy. It's just a metaphor, I promise."

"So what is third base then?"

"Aren't you eager?" Gojo asks. "I gotta show you the first two before we get to that."

"Ok, then. Show me."

"Sweet!" he says, smiling up at you in a way that makes your stomach swoop. "Can I kiss you?"

You're not sure why him asking to kiss you has stunned you so, but all you can do is nod before he places a palm to the side of your neck, his thumb resting on the hinge of your jaw. He guides your lips to slant over his, petal soft. Your first kiss, and it tastes sweet, like whatever dessert he was indulging in before he thought to knock on your door.

You fall into the rhythm of the kiss, allowing his tongue to delve into the heat of your mouth. You moan as it slides against yours, and you press closer to him, sink your hands into the silky white strands of his hair to pull him closer still. To think that he gave you an orgasm before this. The thought makes your face heat up even more.

Gojo breaks away from you, a glistening web of shared spit hanging between you before it snaps with his breathless smile.

"How you liking first base?" he asks.

"Good," you pant, distracted by his plump, shimmering lips.

"Good," he echoes with a laugh. And that's when you repeat his question in your head. Good? Why the hell did you answer like that?

Before you can think yourself into a state of complete humiliation, Gojo takes hold of your waist and flips you onto the mattress. He swings one leg over your hips, cages you in with his forearms braced on either side of your head and locks his lips with yours again. Hungry and impatient, all you can do is moan into his mouth and try to keep pace. You could spend hours, days even, just doing this.

Kisses start to trail down your throat, trembling with your lustful moans. He opens up the collar of your top wide so he can suck and kiss at the dip of your collarbone. Your hips raise at the feel of his teeth on your skin, his tongue soothing the sting of his bite right after.

He grips the hem of your top and lifts his head from your neck. "Can I pull this up some?"

"Yeah, go for it," you say.

"Now we're talking." He pushes your shirt over your breasts so it's bunched up at your collarbones, rendering you practically topless. Whatever happened to pulling it up 'some'?

Gojo kisses up your stomach, your breath hitching nearly every time his wet mouth meets your heated skin. He leaves a savory kiss at the center of your chest there before he cups your left breast in his palm.

"A perfect fit," he marvels as he squeezes. He licks from underneath your breast to your nipple, flicks his tongue against the bud before he closes his mouth around it and sucks. Your pussy clenches hard and your hips grind up against his stomach. He toys with your other breast with his opposite hand, tugging and tweaking your nipple while it awaits the delicious torment that is his mouth.

His eyes meet yours as he kisses his way across the valley of your chest, a question in his blue gaze.

"Feels good, hah ahh!" He tugs your nipple between his teeth, the pain making you ache much lower. "Feels really good."

Gojo releases your right nipple with a lewd pop. "You look ready for third base. What do you think?"

"I'm ready. So ready. I want it."

"Then you'll have it, angel." This new pet name causes you to shiver. Or maybe it's the wet kisses descending to your waistline. Or it could be the anticipation of what third base could entail.

Gojo grips the waist of your yoga pants, and you nod. He yanks your underwear down with them in one go. With your shirt still bunched up, you're essentially naked, but it's more exciting than nerve wracking. You like the way Gojo appraises your body before he nips at your thigh. 

You spread your legs wide to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders as he settles between them. It's easy for you to forget just how built Gojo is. He's not the beanstalk he was when you'd first met him, far from it.

Your hips twitch upward when he ghosts his fingers over your cunt, gathering the arousal on the pads of long appendages. He pops them into his mouth and sucks, and your mouth falls open with a shaky exhale.

"I want a taste of you. That okay?"

"Anything's okay," you rush to say, and upon the awe that overtakes his face, you add, "I mean, as long as it's with you. I'll tell you if I don't like something."

"Sounds good. But believe me, you're gonna love this."

He parts your lips with his tongue, a hot lick from your entrance up to the the side of your clit. Another broad lick and you whimper. You all but gush on his tongue as he sucks on your lips and kisses your cunt. You sink your fingers into his hair, scratch at the buzzed strands of his undercut when he dips his tongue inside you, fucking you slow. His nose bumps your clit each time he pushes his tongue into you, reaching deeper into your sex.

When his mouth finally closes around your clit, you come with a near silent whimper. Your head presses back into the pillows as your body shudders with your orgasm. You can't believe how easy it was for him to tip you over the edge but you can hardly find it in you to complain when you feel like you could float out of your own body.

"Where you going, huh?" Gojo grabs you by the waist and pulls you closer – you hadn't realized how far up the bed you'd moved. His grip shifts to your thighs and he pushes them up into the air before he latches onto your clit again and sucks. 

"Holy shit," you whine at the feel of his soft lips drawing the sensitive bud deeper into his mouth. His tongue strokes it and your entire body trembles. You root your fingers into your bed sheets, hoping to ground yourself in the face of the onslaught that is Gojo Satoru, but you're helpless against the way he kisses your sex, tender and intense at once. His fingers squeeze at your thighs, push them closer and closer to your shoulders while he buries his face further into your folds with lewd moans. When you come this time, he catches nearly all of your essence with broad licks of his tongue. His eyes are closed, content, as he cleans you up.

He brings your legs back down before he leans over you to peck your lips.

"Third Base?" he asks. You sink your fingers in his hair again and deepen the kiss.Gojo matches the fervid brush of your lips with his own. 

"Good," you sigh. "So fucking good."

He presses closer, his fluttering chest to yours, trim waist fitted between your spread legs. And you revel in the heat of his body that you can still feel through his layers of clothes. He bites your bottom lip and tugs before he kisses you harder, tangles his tongue with yours. Only this time, your tongue seeks his out as well. Gojo drops more of his weight on you with a moan that ripples through you. His fingers follow a similar path, slipping between the crush of your bodies to your weeping sex.

"You still want more, yeah? " he pants into your neck. "Is that why she's crying?"

He plunges a finger inside you, your plush walls constrict around it like a vise. He moans into your ear – in concert with your mewl against his temple. 

"You're gripping me so t-tight," he stutters, just barely able to pull the finger out some. 

You try to relax as he pets your walls with his finger, but it's getting harder to breathe with his own ragged breaths tickling your neck. 

He groans in pleasure when he manages to sink another finger into the hot clutch of your cunt, scissoring them inside you until he grazes your most sensitive spot. 

"Got you," he hisses. Both fingers hone in on that spongy patch inside of you, pulling cries of pleasure from you with ease. He's eager to make you come again, fucks his fingers into you with precision and dizzying speed. Gojo nibbles his way down your chest to suck your right nipple back into his mouth. Your body has never known such pleasure and you feel drunk with it.

Your walls clench and relax in rapid succession as you come, the force of it pushing his fingers nearly out of you. He pulls them out the rest of the way and releases your breast with a wet pop to surge up and kiss you. He grinds his hips against yours, the hot line of his rigid cock rubbing against your clit. You lock your legs around his lower back to meet the frenzy of his thrusts. He's so hard and hot above you, gripping your hips and grinding you further into the mattress. 

With a sultry cry, his cock softens as arousal gushes from your pussy. Heat blossoms between you, hips move mindlessly. A drunken, almost coordinated dance only you two know. Your open mouth panting into his. Bodies melted, melting, together.

Part 3 - Curtain Call

It's late when you step up to the sliding doors of Gojo's living quarters. Most everyone is asleep at this hour, save you and, hopefully, Gojo. Or maybe you'd rather he be asleep so you can save yourself the impending humiliation.

Ten minutes pass. Ten minutes of you poising your hand to knock on the door, then wrenching it away just as your knuckles are about to make contact with the wood. One minute you're hyping yourself up, saying that you should be empowered, emboldened, to seek out your own pleasure. The next is spent convincing yourself that you're a horny freak who should not be banging down his door so late at night when he's just returned from a prolonged mission. 

In your defense, he'd been by your place every night before he left so you could…brush up on your lessons. As soon as you'd open the door for him he'd be on you, kissing you boneless into your bed for hours. He'd then pump his long, lithe fingers into you or plug in your wand. But he'd always, always, go down on you, claiming it was an effective stress reliever for him, too.

But that all changed when he'd been tasked with investigating what reporters, conspiracy theorists, and some spooked government officials alike were calling a haunted amusement park in one of the northern provinces. You'd prepared yourself for 48 hours without him, but the withdrawals really started to hit you at hour 73. He'd started plaguing your dreams, both during the day when you would space out in the middle of combat instruction and at night when you'd finally exhausted yourself from thinking of him too much. You wondered if he might have put some sex hex on you. Or maybe a lust curse got to you without your noticing, because you can't seem to function properly without an orgasm or two from the blue-eyed sorcerer.

At hour 96, you'd decided to visit Shoko for advice. You'd been hesitant to confide in her about the nature of your arrangement with Gojo beforehand, but she was far from fazed when you hopped up on the examination table and broke the news.

"Believe me, I know all about it. Satoru can't shut up about clearing his roster and focusing all his efforts on you."

"He can't?" you asked, your face flushing with pleasure. "Wait, what has he told you? And who's on his roster? Anyone we know?" You didn't want to read too much into what Shoko had said. Things seemed pretty casual on his end, and you were trying to match that. Trying, being the operative word.

"As far as I know, his roster has cobwebs on it," she said as she reached into the drawer of her desk and pulled out two nips. You took the small bottle of vodka, leaving her with whisky. You both unscrewed the top and tipped the liquor into your mouths, though you'd only managed a startled sip while Shoko drained her's of it's contents.

"But don't worry about that. He's been too busy for those dates he likes to go on."

You had to agree, it had been a while since he last regaled you all with tales of his dating life, much more robust than you imagined possible for a jujutsu sorcerer as esteemed as him.

"So you don't think I was cursed or something?" you asked.

"Not in the traditional sense. I think he might've dickmatized you, but nothing more concerning than that. My official medical advice; just ride it out, it'll pass eventually."

"But he hasn't even put his dick in me yet," you'd said.

"Oh? Then I'm curious to see what will happen to you once he does."

"What will happen to me?"

"Don't let this become a new stressor in your life," she'd tsked. "Your labs are finally back to normal, I can't have you running back in here spouting nonsense about being at death's door again. Don't overthink it, just enjoy yourself please."

Which is why you're here so late, a bag from a local dessert shop in one hand, your other hand shyly approaching his door before hastily retreating from it. 

Just as you're about to knock, for real this time, his door slides open. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. It's far from your first time seeing Gojo in his uniform but you've been seeing him in a new light lately, and tonight is no different. Your eyes travel along the length of his legs, take in the fit of the jacket hiding his well-sculpted torso. The soft strands of his hair stand up from the black blindfold covering his eyes. And that bemused smile on his face…oh now he's laughing.

"What have we here?" he asks. "Don't tell me you stopped by just to stare at me or something? That's real cute of you."

You drop your fist and hold up the bag you'd been hiding behind your back. "For you. I got some daifuku as a welcome home treat."

Gojo takes the bag and offers a murmur of thanks. He takes a bite of one of the delicate treats, and your eyes latch onto his mouth as he chews, track the movement of his throat when he finally swallows.

"This can't be the only reason you showed up here, right?" he asks, looking justly amused. "Right?"

"I want to have sex with you."

Gojo tilts his head to the side, regards you with playful curiosity. "Isn't that what we've been doing though?"

He indulges in the rest of the daifuku as you think back on his past lessons. Sure he never came himself, except for that one time when he'd dry humped you through the mattress. But that doesn't mean you two haven't been having sex. Perhaps you need to unpack that further. 

Some other time.

"Right. You're right, that's exactly what we've been doing," you say, and he smiles wickedly at you.

"So you want me to eat you out again, that it? Told you, you'd love it."

"Yes. But I also…I want…please don't make me say it. You must know what I want."

"I really don't."

"Fine. I want you to fuck me. Not with your tongue, or-or with your fingers–"

"Oh, I see." Gojo takes one of your hands, places it on the swell of his cock. "You want this, yeah?"

Your breath hitches. He's already hard?

Gojo drops your hand in favor of slinging an arm over your shoulders. He pulls you into his room and closes the door behind you. "You're hilarious, you know that? You don't have to bribe me to sleep with you. I'll do you free of charge."

"It's not a bribe, I'm just trying to be nice!"

"To think if you'd just waited another day, I'd be the one begging you. Buuuut, I can't say I'm not pleased with this outcome."

"Just finish the daifuku and fuck me."

"Oh? And here I thought you were such a lady. Couldn't even say that you wanted dick but now you're telling me to hurry up and fuck you already," Gojo puts the bag of dessert down on a low table. He pulls you into his arms and brushes a gentle kiss to your lips. "I get it though, you're aching to be filled right now, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am," you say as he pecks you again.

"Poor baby," he coos. "I've neglected you for too long. I'll give you what you need."

You sigh when his mouth meets yours in a languid kiss. The glide of his plush lips coaxing you closer until your body is flush with his. He dips his head to lick up the column of your throat and kiss his way back down again.

"You smell so good," Gojo groans into your neck. "Like flowers."

"It's lavender," you say, breathless, as he nips at your pulse point. You're grateful that you've been using that fancy soap still, because you think this moment seems to be one such special occasion that you would've saved it for anyway.

"It suits you," he says as he unbuttons your pants. You shimmy out of them and kick them aside.

"It's expensive," you say, pulling your top over your head.

"So what? I'll foot the bill so long as I'm the only one smelling it on you." Gojo unclasps your bra and adds it to the growing pile of clothes. Even with the blindfold on you can feel his eyes traveling over your body. "Fuck, you're hot."

"I am?"

"Look at you fishing for compliments," he says as he unbuttons his jacket and shrugs it off. "Yes, you're hot. I can't believe no one's tried to get in your pants before."

"I mean people have tried—"

"Not hard enough." Gojo pulls off his shirt then shucks off his pants in record time, leaving him in only his boxer briefs and blindfold. "But enough talk about those losers from before. Let's try something different tonight."

"Like what?"

"I want you–" Gojo falls into the center of his bed. "–to sit right here." He points at his smiling face. Your stomach drops. Your own face must convey that clearly, because his grin drops as well .

"What's wrong? Scared you're gonna suffocate me or something."

"Honestly, yes."

“Oh please. I’m stronger than strong. Some might even say the strongest." He flexes a bicep for emphasis, the round curve of his muscle contracting in a way that would otherwise make you drool if you weren't so nervous. "I can handle you, all of you.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. You do really like when he goes down on you, and while you’re well versed in that now, your apprehension just won’t let you commit.

“Tell you what. You gotta sit on my face first if you want to sit on this di–"

“Hey, I’ll do it,” you hiss, already shimmying your panties off. “You are so ridiculous, you know that?" 

“Come on, enough talk. Your throne awaits."

You make to crawl onto the bed but stop short. "Aren't you gonna take off your blindfold?"

"I thought you didn't like my scary eyes." He lifts one side so he can wink at you.

"Don't put words in my mouth," you grumble before admitting, "I want to see you looking at me."

"You're being extra cute today. You must really want me," he says, but obliges your request. He pulls the blindfold over his head, polar white hair falling into his eyes again. "For your information, I'm always looking at you."

You roll your eyes. What a line.

Gojo sits up to meet your gaze, shifting every time you try avert it from him. "I see you trying to fight a smile. You like that, huh? Knowing that these 'scary' blue eyes are set on you?"

"Mind you, you have six eyes in total."

"All of them fixed on you, baby," he coos.

You push his shoulder and he flops back down. "Shut up. How should I sit?"

Gojo helps you swing your left leg over his face so you're kneeling, facing the end of the bed. Your eyes snag on the prominent bulge of his dick in his boxer briefs, and your nerves coalesce with your desire. 

"Helloooo?" he cries, wiggling his toes as if in greeting. "Are you listening to me? I said you can sit lower."

"Can you stop wiggling your toes like that?" you ask, frowning at his feet. "It's weird."

"Aww, but they just want to say hello," he whines as he spreads his toes wide apart.

"I'll get off if you keep it up."

"No you won't," he says, but still complies. 

"Thank you."

"Now you need to do something for me," he says, squeezes your plush hips. "Sit properly, I promise you'll go crazy over it and you won't kill me."

You drop down lower, and he wastes no time in flattening his tongue over your clit and lapping his way between your ass cheeks. You shiver and moan as he gives you more broad, slow strokes.

"You taste so good," he mumbles into your folds, the vibrations of his words making your entire body tighten. He sets his teeth on your clit and you lose your balance, falling forward a bit. You brace your hands on the bed as he sucks and kisses your clit.

"You're my favorite dessert. Mmm, I can't get enough." To prove it, he speeds up the strokes of his tongue. You feel him nuzzle deeper into your pussy so that his nose notches on your contracting hole. The sounds of him devouring you with such voracious, wet licks and obscene sucks is making you so hot. Your head starts to go fuzzy from the pleasure.

"Fuck, Gojo. Feels so good–"

"Ugh, enough with the Gojo," he groans as he lifts you off him, just enough that you can feel his lips grazing yours as he speaks. "Would it kill you to call me Satoru?

"Oh! No, it's just, I mean I'm just used to calling you Go–"

"No, no, don't say it again!" he cries from underneath you. It's a strange type of foreplay, this, but you can't deny you're turned on. And if the tent in his underwear are any indication, it's safe to say he feels the same.

"Can you please, please, with whipped cream, hot fudge, and three maraschino cherries on top, call me by my given name? Please?"

You lean down, kiss his stomach; the muscles contract with his gasp.

"Of course, Satoru," you murmur against his hot skin. He pulls you back down at once, nudges your clit with his nose and licks up your arousal. You rest your palms on his chest, graze them along the contours of his abdomen. Again, his stomach curves inward, even more so when you rake your nails back up. Your hands smooth back down his torso. Wondering fingers follow the trail of downy, white hair to just underneath the waistline of his briefs.

He wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you low enough that you worry that he truly can't breathe. But the concern dissolves at once. He kisses your cunt so good that you have to rest your chest along his stomach, lungs heaving, body shaking. You can hardly keep yourself upright from the passion he's sharing with you.

"Mm! Don't stop," you moan against his pelvis. He grips your hips tight and moves you along his face, his tongue delving deeper, fucking you faster. Your breaths shudder out of you, and his own body quivers beneath yours with each heated exhalation.

Through the haze of lust, you think to tug down his underwear, just enough to free his cock. You want to at least try to return the favor.

"What the hell is that?" you ask, jolting back when his hardened length springs up right away.

"Don't talk about him like that," he whines.

"It's huge!" you hiss, and his dick twitches, foreskin retracting some to reveal the flushed tip.

"Why, thank you– Wait, why do you sound so surprised? You should've assumed I'd be well endowed."

"It's not gonna fit, how would it fit?" you ask yourself as you grip the base of his cock. It's so hot and girthy in your hand, your fingers just barely reach your thumb. And it's so long, too. How are you–

"Gotta have more faith in yourself. You can take it. I'll make sure you can."

He pushes two of his fingers inside of you, slides them in and out of you while he slurps lewdly on your clit. Your hips grind down against his face, chasing the pleasure only he can give you. Fingers rub against your puffy walls, in search of your weakest spot.

"Oh? You like it when I touch you here?" He fucks his fingers faster, arousal splashing out of you the deeper his fingers reach. You sag against the smooth skin of his torso with a whimper, body jolting as starlight sparkles just beneath your skin.

"So good. Feels so good," you mewl while he drinks in your essence.

"Mhm," he moans into your folds. He still massages at the spongy patch inside of you, intent as always to make you come again even before you come down from your climax.

It takes all your strength to push yourself up onto shaky forearms. You open your mouth and let saliva drip from the tip of your tongue onto the head of his twitching cock. You smear the bubbly mix of your spit and his pre on your palm to coat the rest of his length.

"Grip it tighter," he groans after your hand glides up to his tip again. You do what he asks, but still, "Tighter. Come on, tighter. Hold on."

You gasp when he pulls his fingers out of you. It's your only warning before Satoru flips you flat on your back. With wide eyes, you watch him press up to his knees, cock erect against his toned stomach. Satoru pushes his briefs the rest of the way down and off, then goes to join you at the foot of the bed. He maneuvers you onto your side while he lays on his back. You trail your right hand lightly over his abs again, but he captures it, brings your hand up to his mouth and spits. Your pussy clenches in response, and you have to fight the surprising urge to lick your palm clean, coat your tongue with his saliva.

Satoru guides your hand back to the base of his cock; his long fingers close around yours and he squeezes so tight that his exhale is a moan, hot and wet, at the base of your neck. The veins of his cock throb in your grasp, heated blood pulsing through him.

"Let me show you." He sets a stunning pace, pumps your hand around his cock fast. He's swearing, moaning into your ear and you can only squeeze your thighs together. So close, so hot. You wonder if this is what it feels like, to melt into someone. 

His foreskin retracts fully as you both jerk him off; the glans, smoldering red, oozes pre that aids the glide of your fist around him. 

"This is what you do to me." Both your hands little more than a blur as he chases his pleasure. Your trembling breath and his. Satoru screws up his face the closer he gets. Even with his features taut and tense, you've never seen someone so beautiful. He was made for pleasure and fun, and all the sweet things.

Satoru pants your name into your hairline when he comes, the whisper soft puff of it enough to distract you from the fact that he is painting you in cum, hot and sticky on your chest and cheek. He keeps moving your hand up and down his length, until he hisses at the overstimulation, softened. 

"I forgot you guys do that," you say as you tuck in your head to inspect his release. Milky white iridescence on your skin. "You have condoms here, right?"

"Yup! But let me help you first." He leans down and licks his spend from the curve of your breast with a broad lick – doesn't stop until he reaches the slope of your cheekbone. He sticks out his tongue to show you, and you lean forward, eyes locked on his, and lick along the length of the wet muscle. Salty silk on your taste buds. You kiss him, slow and deep and charged despite how ardent your desire is for him. Satoru moans into your mouth and you press closer until you're nearly on top of him. It's hard to ignore the pure eroticism of mixing your release and his with your mouths. The knowledge makes you kiss him that much more thoroughly.

He parts from you with heavy gasps, an awestruck gleam in his eyes. "You're a real good kisser," he says.

"Thank you." A shy smile pulls at your lips. 

"Which means you have to admit that I'm the best teacher alive."

The smile vanishes. "No way."

"Yes, way," he says, squeezes you closer. "Admit that I'm the strongest, smartest, sexiest, teacher there ever was."

"You're already full of yourself as is."

"And if you really wanted to be full of me too you'd stroke more than just my dick. C'mon give my ego some love."

You peck his glossy lips, and he pecks you right after.

"Can the strongest, smartest, sexiest teacher there ever was please go get a condom so he can fuck me already?" you ask, pouting just a little bit to appeal to his cuteness sensibilities.

"Just because you asked so sweetly." Satoru gives you one more quick kiss before he rolls off the bed. You watch his retreat, taking stock of his body. His slim waist and tight ass and those shoulders. You can't imagine seeing anyone with such a physique, and you realize you don't want to. Shoko has every right to be worried. You're a bit too whipped for Satoru, and you fear you'll only act more insane once he's through with you. 

He returns with a box of twelve that only has three left, a short strip of gold foil packets. He tears one of them free and sets the other two on his nightstand.

"Now this," he says, holds the packet so you can read the XL printed on its face. "This is a proper condom. See? Not on the brink of disintegration or extra small like the one in your room."

You feel that you should defend the honor of your hidden-and-forgotten-in-the-dresser, perfectly regular sized, condom even though it has, in fact, celebrated quite a few birthdays. But your mouth doesn't form those words.

"Who did you use the other nine with?"

"Eh? Other nine what?" He follows your gaze when it cuts to the upended box on his floor. A cheshire grin lights up his face as he turns to look at you again. "Oh, are you jelly? I can't believe it. That's amazing."

"Just forget I said anything."

"If it makes you feel any better, it's been a minute since I last used these. Maybe even a minute and a half."

"I'm sorry," you say, cover your face with your palms. "I probably sound fucking crazy. I promise that I'm not."

"No, I looove when you're possessive of me. Gets me so hard, see?" He pries one of your hands from your face, puts it back on his cock. It is, in fact, standing at attention again, pre-cum bubbling at his flushed tip. You glance back up at him and he nods to confirm that yes, your question about who else he's messing with and when and how long has turned him on so much that he might as well have not come just a few moments ago.

Satoru tears the packet open with his teeth. Your breath hitches at the arresting sight of his canines ripping the plastic apart. He pinches the tip of the condom and rolls it onto the heavy length of him.

"You nervous?" he asks as he knees between your legs.

"If I say yes will you be an ass about it?"

"Nope. I sympathize with your plight," he says, and you roll your eyes. "You have to go up against the Mini-Honored One. I wouldn't make light of that. Not ever."

"Mini Honored One? Oh, my god," you giggle.

"Don't laugh, this is so, so serious." Satoru positions himself on top of you, kisses your cheek. "We'll go slow. Tell me if it's too much, okay? Only a little shame in tapping out early, less than you think."

You scoff at that. You can almost hear him teasing you now, inflating his ego even further as he goes on and on about how he's too endowed for you.

Satoru taps the head of his cock on your clit, a shock of pleasure surges through you.

"C'mon, I asked you a question. You'll tell me, okay?"

"Okay!"

Your body tenses when the head of his cock breaches your entrance. You have to grip his bicep tight when he pushes in another inch, the pressure is almost uncomfortable. He kisses your temple, breathes out a soft command, relax. On your next exhale, you try to do just that. The burning stretch of him deep inside of you becomes a simmer when he finally bottoms out. His breath ruffles your hair as he holds himself still above you. You like it, being this close and this full. You bear down on him, experimenting, and his arms buckle. 

"Oh, you are wicked," he whines when you squeeze around him again. "If I wasn't your first I'd swear you were a succubus."

"I'm sorry," you say to him, more than pleased with the results of your research. "You can move now."

Satoru draws his hips back and drives himself back into you, the matted hair of his pelvis brushing against yours. Another meeting of your hips elicits a soft sigh from you and he pulls you back in for a kiss. You like how that feels. His soft moans in your mouth zinging through your veins and straight to the chambers of your heart.

You try to keep pace with him when he speeds up, but Satoru is wild as he fucks you. Making you sweat, tiring you out, all the while whining and moaning as he nears another orgasm. He swipes desperately at your clit until your body seizes up under him. Your nails dig into the taut muscle of his ass and drag across the smooth skin of his back.

"Fuck!" he whines as you scratch him. He wraps his arms around your waist so you're plastered to him, and at once he starts fucking you faster.

"Satoru, I'm gonna come. You're gonna make me come, please don't stop. Don't stop."

Your breath catches as your pleasure crests. He fucks you through your orgasm, your body shivering and screaming beneath his, until the tension snaps in him and he comes with rough snaps of his hips. 

You whimper when he eases out of you. He pulls the condom off, his length still hard despite the orgasm. He ties it off and tosses it perfectly into a waste basket at the opposite end of the room. You watch him slide another one on before he grabs your waist and guides you onto your hands and knees. The bed dips as he presses onto his knees as well. You drop to your forearms when he presses into you again. His palm squeezes the globe of your ass then trails along the length of your spine. Fitted between your shoulder blades, he pushes you down so your chest is pressed into the bed and your back is arched, enticing and curved. 

Satisfied with your new position, he grabs your hips and pistons against your ass. He pulls your body to meet his, mind-numbing jolts of ecstasy when flesh meets flesh. Drool trickles out of your mouth as you moan and grip the bedding for purchase.

"Satoru!" you gasp when he reaches for your clit, and something snaps within him. He pulls out, flips you onto your back and drives himself in with a deep thrust. 

Satoru drapes his body on top of yours. Your chest squished beneath his pectorals, hardened nipples grazing his skin. You warble his name again, a wanton moan that is pure sin. Satoru kisses you quick as the pace of his thrusts grows more erratic. His cock softens inside you with each jerk of his hips. But he pulls out of you abruptly, sits up with a frown.

"What's wrong?" you ask, lifting yourself onto your elbows.

"You didn't come," he complains. "I have to make it up to you."

Satoru takes your hands in his and pulls you up to sit. He grabs another gold wrapper and tears it open. "Would you like to do the honors?"

 You nod, take the condom out from the lubricated plastic. Pinch the tip like you saw him do before rolling it down his length, hard and drooling. He groans when you reach the thick base of him, holding him in place so you can sink down on his dick. He's so deep like this.

You gyrate your hips; lean back, hands braced on the bed as you slowly grind your clit on his abs. The head of his cock rubs your sweet stop perfectly as you fuck him the way you want. 

He licks his fingers and swipes tight circles around your clit. You move more wildly against him. Arousal splashes onto his pelvis and he gathers you into his arms, your chest against his again. He plants his feet into the bed and drives himself deep inside you, desperate desire in the push of his pelvis and yours. You can barely move, barely breathe. Only grip his shoulders for dear life.

Satoru slaps your ass and you yelp at the sting. Your cunt squeezes him hard, and more of your essence seeps out of you. Both of his hands grab your ass so he can bounce you up and down his length, fucking you as fast as he wants. You take his face and kiss him when he pushes into you this last time, body lax beneath you as pleasure travels through him, sating him. You collapse against his chest, trying to catch your breath. You close your eyes and listen to the roar of blood in and out of his heart.

You lift yourself up, lidded eyes fixed on him. You kiss him once, awed as always at how easily he pulls orgasms out of you, makes you feel so good. The next kiss makes his dick twitch between your walls. When you go in for another, he places two fingers on your lips, keeps you from meeting his.

"Whoops. Time's up," he says.

"What?" you gasp as he pulls himself out of you, the loss of his heat jarring.

He ties off and pitches the condom into the receptacle. "No more condoms. Sorry to disappoint you. But look what we can play with instead." 

Satoru reaches into the bedside table and pulls out a miniature version of your wand. "Tada! Isn't this great, you don't even need to plug it in!"

The sight of the toy is more distressing than it should be. He's serious about calling it a night! Normally, you'd be more than happy to have him use the wand on you, but now that you've had a taste of his dick, that's all you really want.

"W-wait." You take the wand from his hands and place it on the bed. "We can keep going."

Satoru looks from the toy back to you, fixing you with a look that screams 'moron'. "Remember when I said two seconds ago that I have zero condoms left?" 

"We don't need them!"

Satoru cocks his head to the side, eyes searching yours. Caught in his gaze you see it, the arrogance overtaking his face.

"You want me that bad, huh?" he laughs as he puts you on your back again, head hanging over the side of his bed. "As long as you're sure, angel, I'll do whatever you want me to."

He drapes your legs over his shoulders and presses you in half. You mewl when he grinds his dick deep into you, the head nuzzling your cervix, walls tight and plush around him. Each slow, sticky thrust into your sweet spot makes your body prickle with heat.

"Such a good idea," he groans as he fucks you. "Feels so good without a rubber."

"Want more," you whine. 

"I know, I know. I'm going so slow, aren't I? I'm sorry." He puts more of his weight on you; your knees meet your shoulders, his firm stomach presses into yours. Smiling lips graze your mouth when he says, "Let me make it all better."

His hips snap into yours, fucking down and into your cunt. Your fingers curl into the sheets again as Satoru brings you to the brink of bliss. His body hardly parts from you, instead sinking deeper each time he drives himself into your wet heat. You can barely kiss him with how shaky your breaths are, so he buries his face into the dip of your shoulder, bites down and sucks.

"Satoru, I'm coming, I'm coming," you sob. Your walls flutter around him as you reach another sweet climax. He moans around the skin of your neck before biting elsewhere, leaving you with another love bite before he unhooks your legs and kneels before you again. 

Satoru grips your waist and rocks into you, his hips pistoning fast. The room is loud with the wet smacks of skin meeting skin, Satoru's whines and your whimpers. Your vision blurs from the tears spilling from your eyes. The pleasure is almost too overwhelming to comprehend. 

You lift your right hand to touch the sweat-slick skin of his abdomen, fingers creeping up to the left pectoral where his heart races just beneath.

"You feel s-so good, Satoru," you mewl, voice weak and thready. 

His heavy thrusts speed up, lightning zinging across your skin. You sink your nails into the center of his chest and with a loud groan of your name the rhythm of his strokes shifts from concentrated to erratic and powerful. Your head lolls to the side, overcome by the intensity, but Satoru grips your cheeks, makes you face him again.

"Hey," he says, lightly slaps your cheek. "Keep your eyes on me, baby."

 Your pussy clenches at the bright, erotic sting that blooms on the side of your face. Your hands find their way around his shoulders and you tug him closer again. He gives you a wet, sloppy kiss, tongues and teeth licking and nipping as the desire stirs between you.

"Fuck, you take my dick so well," his voice, shaky between kisses. "Like you were made for me."

Your whine is so shrill you can barely hear it. 

"Yeah, you like that? Your pussy's gripping me even tighter now. I can barely move again."

"Sorry-sorry," you pant, trying to relax but you clench around him harder. 

"No, don't say sorry, just keep milking me like that, baby." Satoru only presses deeper into you, the head of his cock kissing your cervix and making you shiver. 

"Close, close–unh." 

Satoru cuts you off with a kiss. You hear his hand scrabbling against the mattress, and then an abrupt buzz. He presses the long forgotten wand between your clit and his pelvis. Your hips soar upwards with a sharp cry, and Satoru swears harshly, drives you deeper into the mattress. He presses and rubs the wand against your sex until white hot pleasure scorches through you. The toy splatters your gushing arousal as you come, and Satoru fucks you through it, warm cum spurting deep inside as he ruts into your cunt.

He drops his weight on top of you with a groan, kisses your cheek, your shoulder, your neck in the afterglow of your coupling. You close your eyes and caress the skin of his back, try not to feel too embarrassed by the raised skin you feel. 

"Who knew you'd have a marking kink," he chuckles tiredly. 

"Don't makes fun of me! It was an accident."

"I'm not! it's fine. Just makes me want to mark you up too, is all." He pushes himself off you and surveys your body. His eyes light up at the sight of your neck. "And looks like I did! Sweet."

You gasp, hand flying up to the base of your throat. The skin is tender from his love bites earlier. But you're not as upset as you should be. Yes, you'll have to try to cover them up, but…he might be right about the marking thing. You want everyone to know that you're his.

Cum oozes out of you when Satoru pulls out with a sigh. He kisses your forehead before he climbs off the bed with a promise to be right back. Your body is sore, delectably so.

"Wake up," Satoru sings. You open your eyes in time to see him press a piece of mochi to your lips. "I did a number on you, huh? Make sure you go to the bathroom before you drift off to dreamland."

You nod before taking a small bite of the dessert. He watches you, eyes clear and warm, like stepping into a Caribbean sea. He pops the rest of the dessert in his mouth before falling on top of you. Your shriek of alarm gives way to giggles as he rolls you both to the far end of the bed, hauling you on top of him in the end. The grin on his face is decorated by a fleck of red bean paste and you giggle more. 

"I want to laugh too. What is it?" he says with a pout. 

"You got something on your lip," you point out, cupping his jaw in your hand.

"Oh, so you're obsessed with me now? It was only a matter of time–"

You cut him off by licking the sweet paste from his top lip. He looks stunned

"Only a matter of time before what?" you ask, trying to emulate his trademark smugness. 

But Satoru doesn't answer, instead pulls you down for an electrifying kiss that tells you that you won't be getting much sleep at all.

The shutter of a camera makes you bolt upright in bed. You're alone, no one around to take such a compromising photo of you. But still, the shutter goes off again. You wrap yourself in a sheet and follow the sound into Satoru's en-suite, door slightly ajar. You peek inside to see Satoru with his back to the mirror. He holds his phone up, throws up a peace sign as he takes another photo. You nudge the door open more, and your breath catches at the sight of the ravaged skin of his back. Raised streaks of red cutting through the muscled expanse. 

"Hey, the princess finally wakes. Wanna get in this next pic? Suguru doesn't believe that you'd scratch me up this good unless we were locked in combat."

"You're sending those to Suguru?"

"Uh, absolutely."

"Don't you dare." You try to grab his phone but he holds it above his head.

"Tell you what," you say as you wrap your arms around his waist and look up at him as innocently as possible. "I'll take the picture with you if you tell me if you've hooked up with anyone else we know."

"No can do." He pretends to zip his lips shut.

"Why not?" you ask with a pout.

"I don't kiss and tell," he says.

"You're literally in the middle of texting Geto about me shredding up your back!"

"It's not like I'm asking you about who else you've hooked up with."

"That's because you're the only one."

"Oh. Right…." Satoru walks you both out of the bathroom then. "Would you believe me if I said that I've gone so long without sex that I'm basically a born again virgin."

"Gojo."

"Hey, hey. Easy with the surname." He drags you back into bed with him, crushes you in his embrace. "I think the only things you need to concern your pretty little head with is the fact that I'm clean, my roster has been obsolete for a good while now, and that I fixed your broken pussy. You're very welcome."

"It's Geto isn't it?"

He stiffens. "I can neither confirm nor deny the status of past friends with benefits arrangements."

You rest your chin on his clavicle to look at him. "So this is a friends with benefits thing, too?" 

"No! The thing with Suguru wasn't as serious– Hey! You are so sneaky!"

"Sorry," you offer despite the smile he is bound to feel against his chest. You're relived at the thought of Geto being Satoru's old flame. And slightly, aroused? He's lucky you're feeling much more tender than before, otherwise…

"So if this is more serious then what are we doing?" you ask.

"That's a dumb question," he snorts. "We're obviously girlfriend-boyfriend, duh."

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

#know your fandom history

[gracewinston]

𑣲⋆ Suguru loves his shy girl

Dom!Suguru x shysub!reader

WARNINGS: dub con, choking, leash/collar, facial, manipulative geto, public sex, recording, heavy degrading, mock praise, Dacryphilia, spanking, dom!Geto, sub!reader

When your and Suguru’s relationship started to sexually expand into more taboo things, you were painfully shy. It was your first time being involved in a relationship built around power dynamics, and every moment that required you to submit to him left you flushed with embarrassment. Skin prickling with each heated moment, heart racing inside your chest. Yet despite it, you couldn’t resist.

It starts gradually, Suguru being slow and gentle at first. Leading you with soft commands, and establishing your and his roles with mundane tasks. Nothing overly explicit or erotic, yet still finds its way to make your heart race and leaving tingles all over your skin.

It first starts with a hand pressed to your throat experimentally when you’re kissing, just lightly holding till you press his hand tighter against your flesh. Feeling the pressure of his hand squeeze around your neck, making your brain go all fuzzy. Feeling the power surge through his hand as he holds your throat in his grasp, making your breath hitch and your legs clench.

You both slip more and more into it, exploring and trying new things. A safe word, and rules are put in place. Suguru having to lead most, if not all, of the conversations. Ever since this side of yourself has emerged and become known to you both, you have become embarrassed of it; ashamed. You’d blush and speak so quietly when discussing these things that Suguru could barely hear you. Having to ask you to speak up, and use your big girl voice as you squirmed in place, and timidly avoided his eyes.

He’d smile and look down at you, arms crossed. He didn’t mind that you were shy, but he wasn’t gonna have you hide this part of yourself away because you’re ashamed.

It was hard when trying to initiate sex, due to your explicable shyness. Suguru would always ask before, “Baby what’s the safe word?”

You instantly tense up, jaw turning to rust, breath halting. He waits for your response, but you just keep your head bowed, praying that a whisper from the aching silence will be sufficient for an answer, “You gotta answer me. I need to know that you have it in your mind to use it when you need to.”

You inhale and exhale, looking up at him like a timid puppy, “Come on,” he coaxes, rubbing your cheek.

“Red for stop…”

“And?”

“Yellow for slow down.”

“Good girl. Red for stop, yellow for slow down. You can remember that?”

You nod, “Good job.”

When you want something Suguru has to watch closely, and pick up on little telltale signs for what you are asking for. Words don’t come easily, they feel icky and gross in your mouth. Making your cheeks flare up, and your tongue to clack against your teeth, and tremble in your mouth, stuttering like a helpless mess.

He’ll watch for the way your eyes bat at him. The way you lean in, and bury your head in his arm. Silently, wrapping yourself around him, and tracing different lines on his body or clothes.

“What do you need?”

You never respond to him the first time, nervously burying yourself deeper into your hands or his body. He turns to you fully, grabbing your face, making you look at him, “You need me?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek.

He’ll reach down to rub right along the slit of your clothed cunt, “Your cunnie feeling all wet and needy?”

“Y-yes-“

“Yes, what?”

You burn bright crimson red right there, breath falling fast, eyes dipping low to your lap. He tugs your chin back up, eyes narrowed, expecting your answer now, “…yes daddy.”

“Want daddy to ease the pain?” He says, continuing to stroke your pussy through the layers of fabric.

You blink, eyelashes fluttering like little wings. A pouty tremble of your lip jutting out, “Yes.”

He always makes you, or at least tries to make you say what you want. Sometimes it’ll take forever, maybe 30 minutes to an hour at the longest to get you to say it. And when you do, he wants details, making you repeat it over and over till you’re begging and crying for it. Just watching you stutter, and stumble, and clam up, getting off on your own humiliation.

Always teasing, always edging you to the point of insanity, and then letting you wither and whine like a helpless lamb. Spending hours just edging you till you’re crying heaps of tears, and then cuming right when he enters inside you.

He has that twisted smile on his face, cooing at you with fake sympathy, “Aw poor baby…couldn’t even last a minute. Poor girl had to cum so badly didn’t she?”

You cover your face with your hands, so incredibly embarrassed by how fast you came. Body twitching and spasming around him, trying to curl into yourself to hide how pathetic you are.

And Suguru doesn’t stop to make you feel any better, “So pathetic…” he mutters, rubbing his thumb against your very red and swollen clit. Watching with a dead, blank face as you squirm and cry out from overstimulation, “So sensitive.”

He’ll slap your clit making you cum again from the pure pleasure of the sharp sting, smiling to himself, seeing how blissed out in ecstasy you are, “Such a brainless doll.”

Suguru also has a keen, watchful eye on noticing and picking up on what you like. You can never say what you like, or if you wanna try new things. So a lot of times he offers them up, watching as your eyes lit up.

Or when you guys are already doing it he’ll experimentally slap your hip, or butt, watching your face to gauge your reaction.

“You like that?”

You blush, eyes wide like you’ve just discovered something extraordinary. Tingles going through your whole body. You nod like a happy baby.

He makes a list of all the things that get you going, all the kinks, and fetishes you like, and always makes sure to rotate them to keep you happy.

He absolutely uses your shyness against you. Exploiting, and making sure you're aware of the nasty things you're doing when you're trying to pretend you're not. Forcing you to do incredibly humiliating and degrading things for his pure pleasure. Oftentimes tears are a big component at the end of these egregious acts, feeling so ashamed and guilty for how much you love it.

He’ll make you maintain eye contact with him the whole time through it. Holding onto your jaw or throat so you can’t hide that pretty face behind your hands or in the sheets. Telling you to “look at him,” “don’t close your eyes, look right here,” guiding your eyes to his, or where he wants you to look. Maybe to where you two are connected. Where he’s thrusting his cock deep inside your pussy as cum guzzles around him from how good it makes you feel for him to be stretching and fucking you open.

Or keeping your eyes locked on his while he strokes himself right above you. You’re on your knees looking up at him, lip trembling with nerves at the sheer sight of him. Just him, looking at you makes you want to run and hide. Your lashes flutter, looking away as your heart swells too big for your chest. Your nerves are pulsing through your system on the verge of bursting. He gives a sharp tug to the leash attached to your collar.

“Ngh-“

“I didn’t say you could look away.”

You whimper and stay planted on your knees. Looking up at him as his dick creates a shadow over you with beads of precum, dripping onto your face.

He yanks on the leash, bringing your face closer to his angry, pulsing cock. He smiles and wraps his hand around the thick black leather, “Gonna be a good girl and let me cum all over your face?”

Your eyes go wide, your mouth a gap. You don’t get to respond, “Keep your face just like that sweetie.”

And you do, too in shock to answer, or turn away with the collar straining from his tight grip. He groans, hips fucking roughly into his fist as he cums. Hot ropes fly all over your face, landing on your lips, your tongue, your nose, some in your hairline, and your sweet plump cheeks. He doesn’t take a single glance away as you get painted in a beautiful white, glistening mess. He pulls at that collar tight, drawing a sharp gasp from your throat, “Look so pretty with my cum all over your face.”

You whimper and whine, feeling so incredibly embarrassed and nasty with his sticky cum all over you.

“Gonna take a picture to remind you what a nasty girl you are.”

You shake your head, “No-no.”

It’s too late, he grabs his phone and snaps a photo of you, cum dripping down your face, tears basking in your eyes, face redly flushed.

Other times he’ll fuck you in front of the bathroom mirror, or right on the balcony of your apartment that overlooks a busy street in the city. Letting everyone see what a massive slut you are for him. Letting yourself get fucked for the whole world to watch.

Other times he’ll record you while you two are doing these explicit acts. Then makes you lie on his lap, head resting softly on his chest as he strokes your hair, while the other hand has his phone in his hand. Watching the gross videos he took of you.

“Look how much of a slut you are baby, taking my cock like that. Acting all shy like you aren’t just a precious toy. Imagine people seeing this. Then they’d see how much of a whore you are,” he says, dangling the phone in front of you, so you can’t look away from the screen. Making you watch him use you, and you acting like a helpless slut.

He says it so sweetly with sweet kisses pressing into your hair and face, making you feel a swirl of complicated emotions. Your heart swelling, and cracking at each degrading thing he says, then he’ll suddenly switch to faux praise, and say how good you are despite being so shy, and thanking you for letting him do such nasty things to you. It makes you feel so conflicted, yet so reliant to forever be his. What would you do without him?

Of course, your shyness does get you in trouble a lot of times. If you don’t do something he says because of your inability to get out of your shy little shell he gets rather annoyed.

“You can’t use the excuse that you’re nervous anymore, you’ve done this too many times,” He doesn’t like when you disobey him, or don’t listen to him. He craves control, and if you disobey him then what can he do?

“But-but Suguru!—“ you whine and cry as you sob on the floor, already a heaping mess.

“No baby, save those tears. You’re gonna need them for later.”

You shake your head, pouting pathetically, making Suguru only more annoyed, and more compliant to punish you, “No please…I’ll do it now. I promise-I promise.”

“No. You’ve already sealed your fate. Now lay down on my lap.”

You have no choice but to comply, and lie face down across his lap.

He shushes you as you cry, stroking your hair. Rubbing the soft skin of your bare back and butt, before he beats it black and blue. He doesn’t want to hurt his precious girl, but until she learns, he has to do this.

He makes you count with each slap. Your shaky voice, wobbling out with each hit. And if he doesn’t hear you, he’s starting over.

“I didn’t hear you princess, you have to speak louder for me to hear you. We have to start over.”

“No!” You cry, legs kicking up. Your ass is already bright red from his hand.

“I tell you to use your big girl voice all the time, but you just don’t listen do you?” He sighs, “When will you learn…”

He’ll switch from his hand to a paddle, or his belt. Loving the little markings each one gives on your body. The way you respond to each one. The belt is always for when you’re exceptionally bad; for the really rough beatings.

All while he speaks so softly in your ear as he does it, watching as your eyes well up, and your little pussy clench and gush out slick from each hit; such a pain slut, “It’s okay honey, if only you just listened to me I wouldn’t have to hurt you. But you had to be dumb and not listen to me, trying to hide in your shame and embarrassment. It never works sweetie, I don’t know why you keep hiding. And aw now look at you. Soaking my lap from your wet pussy as I spank you.”

Once it’s over, once the pain subsides and your body is left bruised and red. Your brain melted into mush, and your poor face being covered in snot and tears. He hugs you tightly against his chest. Letting you cry all your shame and embarrassment out, softly stroking your hair and kissing your head.

“It’s alright…shhh it’s okay,” you cling to him tighter like the only world that exists is him.

Aftercare is always the most important thing. He’ll instantly scoop you up, either cradling you to his chest like a baby, or taking you to the bathroom to wash you. He knows the sex is not only physically exhausting and demanding, but also emotionally. He’ll wipe away your tears and coo sweetly at you, rubbing your back as you hide your face in his long hair.

“It’s okay, you’re alright. Just relax, I got you.”

It’s during these times that you can retreat into that small shy thing, not forcing you to say nasty things, or make you uncomfortable. Letting you calm down for all emotions to settle. He checks on you, making sure you’re okay, looking to see if there are any signs that you’re not. He’ll say sweet loving words, letting you know that it’s all just play.

“Don’t mean any of those things. Love you so much, baby. So precious to me. So beautiful. Shouldn’t be ashamed, okay?”

He always lets you know that there’s nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to this. That it’s alright to indulge and explore things you like. You’re not gross for it, you’re not deranged for it. That you’re still just his precious, sweet shy girl. Too sweet and shy for the cruel world.

You melt into him, clinging to him more than usual in these very vulnerable, and intimate times when you’re small and weak. He makes sure to never take them for granted, or make you feel any other type of way other than loved.

When he can tell that something is wrong he’s instantly holding your face, not overbearing but gently, soothingly. Brushing your hair back so he can get a pretty view of that face, and watch for any closer signs of trouble, “Honey what’s wrong?”

You just shake your head, slightly shrugging, eyes downcast.

“I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong Angel. You gotta use your words okay?”

He spends about an hour trying to get what it is out of you, never once getting mad. Just softly reassuring that whatever it is he would never, could never be mad. That you can tell him whatever it is, and nothing will change.

After that hour you finally build up the courage and strength to tell him, hiding your face in his arm, and whispering it quietly so that Suguru has to press his ear right against your lips.

“J-ust…last night-you fell asleep fast and-…” You take another breath, trying to get another source of courage to go on.

“Did I not care for you before I fell asleep?”

Your lip trembles, your heart breaking, “I…I just didn’t feel it,” you whisper. Big eyes looking at him.

He sighs and pulls you impossibly close to him. Tucking you right under his chin, big arms wrapping tightly around you, “I’m so sorry angel. I mustn’t have realized I hadn’t before I fell asleep. It’s my fault, okay? Please, never be afraid to tell me these things. I have to know whenever you don’t feel cared for.”

You nod against his chest. He has a hand against your hair softly running his hands through your hair, and scratching your scalp. The other soothingly, rubbing your bare back, “I’m sorry, I love you so much sweet girl. I’ll run a bath, and take good care of you now, to make up for last night. Would that be alright?”

“Yes…”

He picks you up, your legs and arms securely wrapped around him as he carries you to the bathroom, and sets you on the edge of the tub to draw a bath. Once the heat bubbles, and rises to the water he guides you into the bath. Letting you sit down, and then sliding in behind you. Letting you relax and lie against him as he holds you, and washes your body with the utmost love and care, kissing your hair and telling you what a sweet and amazing girl you are. Whispering all his devout love into your ear, covering your skin in sweet kisses and warm bubbly sudz.

Washing away all the guilt and unease from your body. Prepping you and pampering you like an angel sent down from heaven upon his wish. For truly he couldn’t wish for anything better than you.

A/N: I love Suguru so much (btw this will be a continuing series of shy reader and dom Geto)

[discodancee]

not my usual content but does anyone know where I can find an ai browser? I feel like I’m going insane. even duckduckgo which used to be a decent one is leaning into ai now. I just hate it so much.

[nanami-is-nanamean]

Ough... nanami having a "senpai" kink... the two of them fucking and fuck—gojo still looks the same as back when they were in highschool and he was harboring feelings that he didnt want to acknowledge and he's making him feel so good and whispering all these things in that same voice and tone just like when he was teasing him way back then and his brain is mush and—

"Mmph, senpai, please!"

The way that i can so clearly see what happens in that bedroom... nanami going instantly red from mortification, gojo pausing to process what nanami just called him, nanami covering his face and desperately trying to save his dignity, and gojos absolutely fucking feral smile at the fact that his cute little kouhai has liked him for AGES.

Nanami may have also given Gojo a senpai kink, though tbf, Gojo has a Nanami kink so he'd be into anything Nanami’s into HAHA

[stateownedslut]

Being a brat is for the autistic girls who spent their childhoods answering questions with clarifying questions that somehow made everyone mad

[sacratiti]

nanami has a dirty mouth

he's supposed to be levelheaded, charming, soft spoken.

when it comes to sex, nanami kento is anything but that. he's loud, passionate, brutish at times. it's like a flip inside is switched, too much blood rushing to his lower regions to think his words through.

but that can't be the case. words as dirty as his, as calculated and mean, phrases that make your toes curl with the simplest utterance have to be purposeful.

"use your words" is his favorite thing to say when he's buried so deep you can hardly breathe.

you're so overstimulated, the low light of the bedside lamp is enough to have you squeezing your eyes shut. all you can feel is him, hot and magnetic.

from his grasp on your neck, to his pelvis flush against you, and most importantly, his mouth by your ear, warm breath fanning against it while he nibbles on the cartilage, it's like his very being is enveloping you.

"theere you go," he says, voice hiccuping from the force of his thrusts, baritone reverberating straight to your core. if only he was making love to you in front of a mirror, then you could see how his eyes roll back, daring to flutter shut from the vice of your pussy. his grip on your neck tightens, tendons in his arm stiffening at the mere thought of making his darling girl cum.

"use your words and you can cum," he groans, struggling to hold himself back. truthfully, he'd love to let you cum right this instant; your orgasm would surely send him over the edge, have him finishing in seconds.

but he can't allow that. patience is a virtue, and he's committed to making you learn it the hard way.

"please, let me cum!"

your every syllable is accentuated by a thrust, turning your plea into staccato babbling.

he's whispering sweet nothings in your ear, free hand gripping your hair so you can't escape. he knows what his voice does to you.

"cum and i'll spank your ass raw," "doesn't that cock feel good?" and "who owns this pussy?" are all things he's groaning into your ear, desperate to make you cum without explicit permission.

he longs to hear that crack in your voice, sanity breaking as you realize you've disobeyed him.

"agh, fuck- pleease, i need it!" you beg, voice becoming hoarse. slick is dripping down your slit, threatening to turn into a messy orgasm with squirt as the cherry on top. he should've said yes by now, but his low laugh is what you hear.

"louder." one word is all he needs to have you whining, kicking your feet against the mattress in frustration.

"i can't-"

"yes, you can."

you damn near finish at those words alone. his thrusts grow meaner, sloppier and barely controlled. he knows you're close, can tell by the way you grip the sheets, same as your pretty pussy. it takes the last of your strength to beg him for release.

with a gasp, you moan it from the rooftops, loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

"please, can i cum, ken?" you wail.

"of course, darling."

who knows if he'll actually give you that sweet release. you may be cumming within the next second, creaming so hard that he follows along with you, or you might not be so lucky.

that's up to him. if you beg a little louder, moan a little harder when he whispers filthy nothings into your ear, maybe then you can cum.

masterlist

a/n: this is more of a headcannon version of nanami than how i actually view him. i originally wanted the fic to be dirty talk, but then it turned into meanie!nanami and here we are >.<

[kashun]

━━━ PLEASE, SAY MY NAME AGAIN.

𝓲𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 ♰ a secretly voice-obsessed satoru calls his best friend late at night and ends up getting off to your voice mid-conversation.

✿ ◞◟) gojo satoru 𝓍 gn!reader

𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, heavy voice kink, best friend!satoru, male masturbation, obsessive fixation on reader’s voice, phone sex (satoru’s side), reader is oblivious at first, satoru is down bad and really pathetic.

okay, so here’s the thing about gojo satoru; he’s pathetic.

not in the way that anyone would ever know, of course. to the outside world, gojo satoru is all long limbs and easy laughter, stupidly handsome in that effortless way that makes people want to either kill him or kiss him, and he talks exactly like someone who perfectly knows he can get away with literally anything. he’s really loud and so charming and just the right amount of annoying, and he has never in his life had to try for anything because the universe handed him good genetics and a silver tongue and called it a day.

but here’s the thing that none knows, not even you, especially not you, his best friend in the entire world, the very person he tells everything to except for this one tiny, massive, earth-shattering thing; gojo satoru is obsessed with your voice.

not in a casual way, not in a 'oh, i like hearing you talk' way, not even in a 'i have a slight preference for your tone' way. oh no, this is something else entirely; this is the kind of obsession that lives under satoru’s skin, that curls around his spine and settles deep in his gut, that makes his brain go stupid and his fingers twitch and his breath catch in ways that are genuinely embarrassing for a man his age.

your voice does something to him, something chemical and primal and completely out of his control, and satoru has spent months — years, honestly, if he’s being honest with himself, which he usually isn’t — trying to figure out how to deal with it without making it weird as hell.

and he’s failed, spectacularly.

because it started small, the way these things always do.

you’d laugh at something satoru said, bright and unguarded, and satoru would feel something warm and dangerous unfurl in his chest. you’d say his name, just his name, satoru, and he’d forget how to form proper words for a second. you’d ramble about something stupid, some show you were watching or some drama at work, and he’d find himself leaning closer, phone pressed hard against his ear, eyes half-closed, just… listening, soaking it in like he could bottle the sound of you and keep it under his pillow.

and then it got worse.

because somewhere along the line, somewhere between late-night phone calls and lazy afternoons spent doing nothing together, his body started reacting in a i-need-to-touch-myself-the-second-i-hear-you kind of way. and that was when satoru realized he was in deep, deep trouble.

he’s tried everything; he’s tried dating other people, hoping that someone else’s voice could do the same thing, but it never works. he’s tried ignoring it, tried to power through his alone time with his own imagination or with videos like a normal person, but it’s always lackluster, always missing something, always leaving him frustrated and unsatisfied and, god, so fucking desperate.

because his body has learned, now. his body knows exactly what it needs, and it will not accept substitutes.

it needs your voice.

specifically, it needs your voice in his ear, soft and warm and completely unaware of what you’re doing to him, while satoru falls apart like the pathetic mess he is.

and tonight, tonight is the night he finally breaks.

it’s late, way later than satoru should be awake, and he’s in his apartment alone with the lights off and his thoughts spiraling in directions he doesn’t want them to go. he’s been trying to sleep for hours, tossing and turning, sheets tangled around his legs, but his mind keeps drifting back to you — to the way you said goodbye to him earlier, the casual “talk to you later, toru!” that should not have sounded as good as it did, the little hum you made when he said something funny, the way your voice dropped slightly when you got serious about something.

and now satoru is hard.

achingly, painfully hard, the kind of hard that makes his stomach tight and his thighs clench and his hand drift down almost without permission; he’s already palming himself through his boxers before he can think better of it, breath hitching at the contact, and he knows — hell, he knows — that this isn’t going to be enough. it’s never enough without you.

he tries anyway, because he has some dignity left, or at least he thinks he does.

satoru pushes his boxers down, he wraps his huge hand around his cock, and he starts moving, slow and steady, trying to summon up some kind of fantasy that doesn’t involve you. but it’s no use. every single time satoru closes his eyes, he hears your voice. every single time he tries to think of something else, his brain supplies him with a memory of you laughing, of you whispering, of you saying his name in that particular way that makes his chest ache.

it’s not working.

it’s not working, and he’s getting frustrated, and his hand is moving faster now, rougher, but it’s still not enough, and he’s actually going to lose his fucking mind.

his phone is on the nightstand, screen dark, taunting him.

satoru shouldn’t. he really, really shouldn’t.

this is crossing a line, this is something he can’t come back from, this is the kind of thing that could ruin everything if you ever found out. you’re his best friend. you trust him. you don’t know that satoru lies awake at night thinking about the sound of your voice, that he’s jerked off to the memory of you saying his name more times than he can count, that he is, for all intents and purposes, completely and utterly down bad for something you don’t even know you’re giving him.

but hell, satoru is so desperate, and he’s not thinking straight at all, and his hand is still moving, and it’s not enough, and he needs—he needs—

before he can talk himself out of it, he’s grabbing his phone, unlocking it with shaking fingers, and tapping on your contact. your name glows at him from the screen, and his heart is pounding so hard he can feel it in his throat, and he’s actually doing this, he’s actually calling you at — satoru glances at the time — one in the morning, for no reason other than that he’s pathetic and obsessed and he needs to hear your voice right now or he’s going to combust.

the phone rings once, twice.

satoru’s hand is still wrapped around his cock, frozen mid-stroke, and he’s holding his breath like if he breathes too loud you’ll somehow know what he’s doing.

on the third ring, you pick up.

“satoru?” your voice is sleep-rough and confused, and god, it’s even better than he remembered, softer than usual, slightly muffled like you’re still half-buried in your pillow. “it’s like… one in the morning. everything okay?”

his entire body shudders.

no, everything is not okay. everything is the opposite of okay. everything is the least okay it has ever been, because your voice just hit his ears and went straight to his dick, and he has to physically stop himself from moaning out loud.

“h-hey,” satoru manages, and his voice sounds weird even to his own ears, strained and breathy. he clears his throat, and tries again. “hey, uh. couldn’t sleep. thought i’d—”

he has to stop, because his hand is moving again, completely of its own accord, and it takes every ounce of self-control he has to keep his voice steady.

“thought i’d see if you were up.”

there’s a pause on your end, and satoru can hear you shifting, probably sitting up in bed, and the sound of fabric rustling makes his hips jerk involuntarily.

“well, i’m up now,” you say, and there’s a hint of amusement in your voice, the kind of fond exasperation you always have when he does something impulsive. “what’s going on? bad dream or something?”

or something. yeah. let’s go with that.

“something like that,” satoru says.

oh, he hates how breathless he sounds, he hates how his voice cracks on the last word, but he can’t help it because he’s touching himself while on the phone with you, and your voice is wrapping around him like a physical thing, warm and familiar and so, so good. satoru’s head falls back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut, and he tries to focus on keeping his breathing even, he tries to keep the wet sounds of his hand moving from leaking through the receiver.

he’s not doing a great job.

“you sound weird,” you say, and satoru’s heart completely stops. “are you sick?”

“no,” he says too quickly, and then, because he has to say something, “j-just tired. couldn’t sleep. you know how it is.”

you hum in response, that same little hum from earlier, the one that’s been living in satoru’s head rent-free, and he has to bite his lip to keep from making a pathetic sound. his hand is moving faster now, a steady rhythm that he can’t seem to stop, and the friction is good, so good, but it’s not enough, not until he hears more of your voice.

“what, uh, what were you doing before i called?” satoru asks, and he’s aiming for casual but landing somewhere around desperate. “were you asleep?”

“yeah,” you say, and he can hear you yawning, the sound making his toes curl. “i was having this really weird dream, actually. about—i don’t know, something with a horse? and we were in a grocery store? it didn’t make any sense.”

satoru laughs, and it comes out strangled, because he can’t help but imagine you dreaming about him — even in the context of a weird grocery store horse situation — and it does something to him that he doesn’t want to examine too closely.

“sounds about right for you.”

“shut up,” you say.

but you’re smiling, satoru can hear it in your voice, and god, he wishes he could see you right now, he wishes he could watch your face while you talk to him, but maybe that’s for the best because he’s not sure he could handle it. his grip on his cock tightens, his rhythm falters, and he has to turn his head away from the phone to muffle a moan against his pillow.

“so what’s keeping you up?” you ask, and there’s genuine concern in your voice now, so soft and so careful. “you seem… i don’t know. off?”

i’m jerking off while listening to you talk, satoru thinks. that’s what’s off. that’s what’s wrong with me. i’m your best friend and i’m touching myself to the sound of your voice and i can’t stop, i can’t stop, i don’t want to stop.

“just thinking,” he says instead, and his voice is barely above a whisper now, rough and strained. “about stuff.”

“what kind of stuff?”

you, satoru wants to say. always you. everything you. the way you say my name, the way you laugh, the way you talk to me like i’m someone worth talking to. you, you, you.

“nothing important,” satoru lies.

and then he makes the mistake of letting his guard down, of letting a small sound escape — a quiet, punched-out little gasp that he hopes you interpret as a yawn or a sigh or anything other than what it actually is.

but you don’t say anything; you just keep talking, rambling about your dream again, about the weird details you’re starting to remember, and your voice washes over him like warm water, and he’s so far gone it’s not even funny.

satoru is leaking now, his hand slick with it, and every stroke makes a soft, sticky sound that he’s desperately trying to cover up with the blanket. his thighs are trembling, his stomach is tight, and he can feel the pressure building at the base of his spine, that familiar coil of heat that means he’s already getting close.

but satoru doesn’t want to get close yet.

not when he just got you on the phone, not when your voice is finally in his ear where it belongs, not when satoru can pretend, just for a little while, that this is normal, that this is something he gets to have.

“—and then the horse just looked at me, like, straight in the eyes, and i swear it was about to say something—satoru? are you still there?”

“y-yeah,” he breathes, and his voice cracks on the word, high and shaky and completely unconvincing. “yeah, i’m—i’m here. just—keep talking. please.”

please. he actually said please.

satoru is so pathetic he’s actually begging now, and you don’t even know, you have absolutely no idea that you have him like this, that you’re the only thing that can get him off anymore, that he’s been dreaming about this for years and it’s somehow even better than he imagined.

“okay,” you say slowly, and there’s a pause, a beat of silence where he can hear you thinking. “you’re being weird, but okay. so anyway, the horse—”

and you keep talking, and satoru keeps listening, and his hand keeps moving on his cock, faster now, desperate and sloppy and so, so good. he’s biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to keep quiet, but it’s getting harder with every word you say.

your voice is doing something to him, some kind of alchemy that turns his bones to liquid and his thoughts to static, and all he can do is hold on and try not to fall apart before he’s ready.

“—and then i woke up, so i don’t even know what the horse was going to say, which is honestly kind of annoying—satoru? satoru, what is that sound?”

his heart slams against his ribs.

“w-what sound?”

“that… i don’t know, it sounds like—are you okay? you’re breathing really hard.”

fuck fuck fuck fuck.

he’s been caught, or at least he’s been noticed, and satoru has to say something, he has to come up with an explanation that doesn’t involve the truth, but his brain is short-circuiting and his hand won’t stop moving and the only thing he can think about is how close he is, how your voice is pushing him closer and closer to the edge with every syllable.

“just—” satoru chokes out, and his hips are moving now, thrusting up into his fist like he can’t help himself, because he can’t. “just—working out. couldn’t sleep so i—i did some push-ups. still out of breath.”

there’s a long pause. too long. he can feel you thinking, can feel your suspicion through the phone, and he holds his breath, waiting for you to call him on his bullshit.

but you don’t.

“at one in the morning?” you ask, and there’s disbelief in your voice, but also something else, something he can’t quite identify. “you’re insane.”

“y-yeah,” he agrees, and it comes out as a moan, half-stifled, definitely not subtle. “insane. that’s me.”

satoru is so close now that he can taste it; his whole body is shaking, sweat beading on his forehead, and his hand is moving in a blur of motion, too fast, too rough, but he can’t slow down, can’t stop, not when your voice is still in his ear, still talking, still saying his name.

“satoru,” you say, and it’s different this time, softer, slower, like you’re testing something out. “are you sure you’re okay? you really sound—”

“say it again,” satoru interrupts, and he’s not even trying to hide it anymore, not trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. “f-fuck—please. say my name again.”

there’s a sharp intake of breath on your end.

“…satoru?”

and that’s it. that’s the thing that breaks him.

satoru’s whole body seizes up, his back arching off the bed, his mouth falling open in a silent scream as he cums harder than he has in his entire life.

his hand keeps moving, milking himself through it, and he can’t stop the sounds that are falling out of his mouth — high, broken little whimpers and moans that he can’t hold back, can’t muffle, can’t do anything about except hope that you don’t hear them, even though you definitely, definitely do.

his vision whites out for a second, maybe longer, and when it comes back, he’s shaking, trembling all over, his thighs slick and his stomach a mess and his phone pressed so hard against his ear that it hurts. he’s gasping for air, chest heaving, and there’s a ringing in his ears that isn’t from the phone.

and then he hears you breathe.

“satoru,” you say again, and your voice is different now; it’s lower and careful, like you’re putting something together in your head. “were you just—”

“i have to go,” he says, fast and panicked, and he’s already reaching for the end call button, already pulling the phone away from his ear, but your voice stops him.

“wait.”

satoru freezes, and his thumb hovers over the screen, and his heart is pounding so hard he thinks he might actually be having a medical emergency.

“don’t hang up,” you say, and there’s something in your voice he’s never heard before, something that makes his stomach flip in a way that really has nothing to do with what just happened. “satoru. don’t you dare hang up on me.”

he doesn’t. he can’t. satoru just lies there in his bed, covered in his own release, phone pressed to his ear, waiting for you to say something, anything, while the silence stretches between you like a wire pulled taut.

and then you speak again, and your voice is soft, softer than he’s ever heard it, soft like you’re about to tell him a secret.

“satoru,” you say, and his name has never sounded like that before, his name has never been weighted with so many things at once. “i think we need to talk.”

this is basically a remake of my mark lee fic lol

[discodancee]

I need to write abt some of these guys getting railed (they deserve it)

jjk x male reader?

yes!!!

no!!!!

Voting ended onMay 10

+ my rambling under the cut

There's a LOTTT of jjk x fem reader which is fine, but as someone who's not technically cis I feel like we're missing out on a lot. Put that man in a queer situation I wanna know what he does.

[discodancee]

Butterfly Effect

part one

Satoru Gojo x Suguru Geto | wc ~3k | tags: frat!jo, emo!guru, Dom/sub dynamics, explicit sex, bottom gojo

a/n: apologies about the formatting again. I'm going to be switching writing platforms shortly because ts sucks

The year is coming to a close. Dorms are emptying, friends are saying goodbye, and yet Satoru is finding the very beginning of something wonderful. 

He follows Suguru around campus like a lost puppy as they wrap up their year, returning books and doing last minute errands. He’s already cleaned out his room in the house, so he’s ready to move out and can spend the rest of his day with Suguru. 

Suguru is has barely started packing, so he takes advantage of the help. He has Satoru packing up heavy boxes all day, and he’s pleased to not hear a single complaint. 

The sun is starting to set when Suguru sits down on his bed — still made, for the last night he’s staying. “Shoko said she’s bringing food over.”

“What’s she bringing?” Satoru looks up from where he’s duct-taping a box of books closed. 

“Probably instant ramen.” Suguru hums. “And Utahime.”

“Delicious.” Satoru sighs and leans back against the bed frame. “I can’t wait until I’m out of here and have a real kitchen.”

“Where are you moving to?” Suguru tucks his hair behind his ear. “What are you even doing after this?”

“I have a place waiting for me in Shinjuku.” Satoru rests his hands behind his head and looks up at him. “And I start teaching at a high school when the new school year starts."

“Already got yourself a job, huh?” Suguru smiles. “And a place to live.”

“Do you not?” Satoru frowns at him. 

“No. I’m crashing with Shoko for a few days at her place, but I think I’m moving back home with my parents.” Suguru frowns as he says it. “It’s a small village. Very religious. Everyone knows everyone.”

“Not your thing?” Satoru rests his chin on the mattress. 

“I spent my life growing up there. I got out and saw the world, and now I don’t want to go back.” Suguru smiles softly. “And I don’t think they’d really dig how I’m dressing now.”

“You should go back dressed as a monk, tell them you got real into Buddhism.”

“They’d love that.” Suguru sighs and studies his face. 

“You know,” Satoru offers slowly, mulling the words over in his brain as he says them, “my place has a spare room. I didn’t know what to do with it, but if you want to stay in the city, it’s all yours.”

“That’s sweet, Satoru. Thanks. But I’m moving home because I can’t afford anyplace in Tokyo.”

“You can when my family is paying for it.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow. “Your parents bought your apartment?”

“Oh, no, I never knew them. But my family is super, super rich.” Satoru smiles widely. “You ever heard the name Gojo? Like the company? Yeah, I’m that Gojo.”

“Oh.” Suguru’s eyes widen. “Wow. Okay, um…yeah. I’ll stay, as long as you don’t mind.”

“I think it’ll be fun.” Satoru pokes him in the knee. “You’re cool. And hot.”

A smirk tugs at the edge of Suguru’s lip. “So are you. You’re totally gonna take advantage of us living together, aren’t you?”

“Without a doubt.”

There’s a knock on the door, sharp and sudden. It swings open, and Shoko pushes her way inside, takeout bags in hand. Utahime trails behind her, holding a tray of drinks. 

“Dinner has arrived!” She announces.

Shoko went above and beyond for dinner, bringing a huge tub of fried chicken and every American comfort food side dish you could think of. Satoru’s never been more glad he avoided the campus KFC like the plague — he would have hated if his last meal here was exactly the same as all the others. 

After the chicken is gone, someone brings cards out, and they spend a generous chunk of the evening turning out their pockets to make bets. Satoru wins, because of course he does, but he promises to make up for it by treating everyone to a meal when they’re all settled into their new places. 

It’s around this time he starts getting antsy. Heat crawls beneath his skin, making him tug at the collar of his shirt and fan himself with his cards. He catches his eyes lingering on Suguru more than he’d like — he knows he’s attracted to the man, and he knows this is already out of the ordinary. He has no idea what he’s capable of doing at the moment. 

Suguru finally catches the glances when Shoko and Utahime go to get drink refills from the sodas they brought. He cocks his eyebrow, intrigued. “You keep looking at me like you want to eat me, Satoru.”

“The girls need to leave.” Satoru’s voice is low and thick, riddled with desire. 

“What?” Suguru laughs. “I’m not going to kick them out.”

“Suguru.” Satoru stares him down, eyes wide. There’s something in his expression, something slightly manic or desperate that Suguru can’t say no to. 

He sighs. “Fine. I’ll ask them to leave.”

The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife as Suguru ushers the girls out the door. Satoru waits on his bed, heart pounding in his chest. 

The lock clicks shut, and Suguru finally turns to look at him. There’s an expression on his face that Satoru can’t quite place — something between amusement and annoyance.

“What’s your goal here?” he asks finally. He stalks toward the end of the bed, taking his time with it. “Indulge me, Satoru. Tell me what it is you want so badly that you made me kick out my guests.”

Oh. Oh no. 

This is really hot. Satoru swallows and tries hard to ignore his dick twitching in his jeans. 

Suguru leans down and braces his hands on the edge of the bed frame. “Is it that you’re so desperate for sex you couldn’t even wait?”

Satoru scoffs. Weakly. His gaze darts around the room. “No, obviously not.”

“No?” The mattress dips with a shift in weight. Suguru crawls toward him, eyes hooded. “That’s not the reason?”

Satoru’s legs part on instinct. He swallows back a moan when Suguru’s hand palms his inner thigh. “No.”

“Fine. I believe you.” Suguru perches on top of him, knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his thin hips. “That makes sense, after all. Everyone knows Gojo doesn’t sleep with the same person twice. It gets too boring, huh?”

Satoru rolls his lip between his teeth. He has a reputation, he’ll admit it. “That was frat boy Satoru. We graduated. He’s gone.”

Suguru smiles, sultry and catlike, like he knows something Satoru doesn’t. “Yeah? So I’m the only person who’s ever gotten dick from you more than once?”

Satoru nods. His hips lift off the mattress a little desperately, mind going fuzzy when his aching erection brushes featherlight against Suguru’s ass. “Yeah. You’re the first.”

“Mm, and you invited me to move in.” Suguru runs his hand up and down his broad chest. “Let me tell you what I think, Satoru. I think you sleep with so many people because you’re never satisfied. And I think you liked how I made you feel. So much so that you’re giving me the honor of being your first repeat partner.”

Satoru grins nervously. “That sort of sums it up.”

“You’re a slut.” Suguru says it like he’s talking about the weather. “I’m the only one who can keep up with you.”

“Fuck, I’ll be a slut if it means I get to fuck you again.” Satoru grabs his hips and pulls him down fully into his lap. The pressure against his aching erection has his head lolling back. “Suguru, please, I…I’ll be good.”

“You’ll be good?” Suguru smiles wickedly. “Oh, I like this side of you.”

Heat travels up Satoru’s neck and face. 

“Tell me something.” Suguru starts to unbuckle his belts — all three of them. “Have you ever been the one to take?”

“Take what?” Satoru asks. His mind feels fuzzy around the edges, making thinking nearly impossible. All he can think about is Suguru — his touch, his face, the warm pressure of him over his achy erection, the intoxicating smell of him. 

Suguru smiles with a pleased hum. He braces his hands on the chest in front of him and leans down to speak directly beside his ear. “Cock, Satoru. Have you ever taken cock?”

Satoru’s dick gets even harder, somehow, which he didn’t know was possible. He shakes his head slowly. “No…I haven’t.”

“You should let me fuck you.” Suguru’s voice is still low by his ear. “You were so pretty when you were inside me. I want to see what you look like coming around my cock.”

His hips buck traitorously. “Fuck, Suguru.”

“I think it’s going to be fuck, Satoru, actually.” Suguru sits back up. He tosses his belts aside. “Take your clothes off and get on your knees for me.”

He obeys without question. He flings his baggy sweatpants and shirt onto the floor and flips onto his knees. His face heats, knowing Suguru is watching him, but his cock is too hard to be truly embarrassed. That is, until Suguru's hands are on him, guiding him until his chest is flat on the mattress and his ass is still up in the air, exposed for the world to see. 

“That’s a pretty sight.” Suguru sighs and climbs onto the mattress behind him. His hand wraps around Satoru’s thick, drooling cock. “You’re already so hard, princess.”

Satoru buries his face in a pillow and whimpers. He’s being humiliated, and the worst part is he likes it. He really likes it. 

“You usually have much more to say,” Suguru comments casually, acting as if his fist isn’t wrapped tightly around Satoru’s cock, which is flushed red with blood. He ignores the quiet whimper into the pillow. “You’re being quiet today.”

Satoru’s hips bear down into the pressure, slipping his aching cock further into the tight hole formed by Suguru’s fingers. He moans and grips the pillow beneath him. 

“So worked up, we haven’t even started.” Suguru tsks behind him. “Do you want to try taking me?”

“Yeah,” he admits, voice rough. He has enough experience on the other end to know it does feel good, at least if any of the guys he’s slept with are anything to go by. He’s curious, and he’s been putting it off for years. “I want to.”

“Okay.” Suguru tugs lightly on the back of his neck, pulling him up. “Look at me. I’m gonna start with one finger, and we’re gonna work you up to three, alright? Then you can have it.”

Satoru’s eyes track him as he grabs a bottle of lube from the bedside table. Clearly, only the essentials have stayed in the drawers. His eyes linger as Suguru squirts a bit of the slippery liquid onto his fingers and spreads it, coating each digit thoroughly. 

“Taking notes?” Suguru finally meets his gaze. 

Satoru scoffs. “You think I don’t know how to prep a guy? I could have done this myself.”

“I’m sure.” Suguru delivers a small, sharp swat to his thigh, making the man beneath him jolt. “Starting now. Deep breath.”

He’s heard a lot of horror stories, but it’s nowhere near as bad as he thought. Sure, the stretch is weird, and his body isn’t used to the intrusion, but it’s not unpleasant. His muscles stretch to accommodate the digit, and just as quickly as he adjusts to the first one, a second finger joins it. His muscles protest, but then Suguru does something unexpected. 

He scissors his fingers, knocking them against a spot Satoru’s never felt before. Liquid heat runs down his spine, and his cock jumps, pre dribbling from the tip. “Oh, fuuck…”

“Do you feel that?” Suguru rubs his fingers in circles over the swollen gland. “That’s your prostate. It’s all swollen, y’know. What’s the matter, you need to come?”

Desperately. Satoru pants against the sheets, hips twitching and bucking every time Suguru strikes his sweet spot. “Haah, Suguru, that — that feels so good.”

“One more. Big stretch.” Suguru’s warning is barely gracing the air before a third finger slides in with the other two. All three fingers spread him in ways he’s never been touched, and his muscles tremble as Suguru slowly fingers him toward an orgasm. “You’re taking it so well, Satoru.”

Satoru mewls, to his own mortification, and buries his face in the pillow. He didn’t know he could make a noise like that. 

“Ah-ah, come here.” Suguru's voice is calm and steady, grounding him as he works his fingers through Satoru's hair and pulls until his head is wrenched off the pillow. “Let me see that pretty face.”

"Suguru,” he whines. His face feels hot — he’s sure he’s a deeply embarrassing shade of red by now. His cock twitches and leaks as pressure builds steadily in his abdomen. "Fuck, I — I’m close — "

“Haven’t even touched you,” Suguru murmurs with a soft smile, working his hand faster. “You must be sensitive. It’s such a shame nobody has played with this pretty ass of yours before.”

Satoru’s cock jerks hard. Something about the way Suguru speaks to him — degrading, yet soft and caring — drives him insane. The difference between the words and the tone in which he delivers them makes heat curl tightly in his belly. “S-Suguru…”

Suguru chuckles softly behind him and withdraws his fingers, leaving Satoru clenching around nothing. “That’s enough of that. Be good and pass me a condom.”

Satoru leans forward slightly and grabs a foil packet from the nightstand. He hands it back to Suguru and watches in his peripheral vision. 

Suguru tears the packet open with his teeth and rolls the condom on. He drizzles lube into his hand and wraps his hand tightly around his cock. His brow furrows slightly as he resists the urge to keep touching himself, knowing Satoru is waiting. With a soft shudder, he releases his grip and holds the bottle of lube up to drizzle over Satoru. 

He jumps when he feels the slick liquid dripping down between his thighs, running in rivulets over his balls and down his needy, neglected cock. A whine tears itself from his throat when he feels Suguru’s hand grasp his hip, keeping him steady as he guides himself in. 

There’s a moment where all he can feel is pressure, then the smooth glide of Suguru’s cock as he sinks inside him. It pushes all the air from his lungs and fills him to the brim. His head drops forward, hair already damp with sweat, to bury his face in the pillow. It’s his best strategy to hide the pornographic moan that follows the head of Suguru’s thick cock nudging against his prostate. 

“That’s what I like to hear.” Suguru grips both his hips tightly. He rolls his hips forward steadily, grinding into the sweet spot, before he pulls almost all the way out and glides back in. 

He isn’t rough about it, but it’s such a forceful punch that Satoru momentarily forgets how to breathe. He wails into the pillow, sounds barely muffled by the cotton and feathers. 

“God, you’re tight, Satoru.” Suguru’s voice is just as calm and steady as always — infuriatingly so. It’s like he’s barely effected by this. “You feel so good. Such a good boy.”

Satoru squirms, cock leaking pathetically into the sheets. 

“Hold still.” Suguru spanks him, once — sharp, brief, and enough to make him sob. “Oh, you’re alright. I felt you squeeze, I know you liked that.”

It’s humiliating how easy Suguru is reading him, and it’s even worse how much he’s enjoying that humiliation. Suguru knows he’s easy, he knows exactly what turns him on, and he knows exactly how to get under his skin about it. 

“Look at you.” Suguru’s voice has a deeper, huskier tone to it now. “You’re meant for my cock. I’ve been dreaming about this since I saw you. I let you top first because I knew you wouldn’t let me see how fucking pathetic you get the first time.”

Satoru’s teeth sink into the pillow. His neglected cock throbs, begging for any sort of touch, while Suguru rails him from behind. His thoughts are scattered, mind a blank slate of ecstasy. 

“Satoru, baby, you haven’t said a word.” Suguru yanks his head off the pillow, pulling a sharp cry from him. “What’s wrong, can’t think straight?”

Thick tears line Satoru’s pale lashes. He opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a choked cry. He blinks, and fat tears roll down his pink cheeks. 

Suguru hisses and grabs his face. “I’m fucking you missionary next time so I can see the cute faces you make.”

Satoru’s eyes roll back, jaw falling slack as Suguru’s cock slams back inside. 

Suguru releases his jaw and slaps his ass again, much harder this time. He growls under his breath at the way Satoru clenches around him. “You like that, huh?”

Satoru bites down on the pillow and wails. His hips jerk frantically, cock dribbling a steady string of pre into the sheets. 

“What, are you gonna come?” Suguru laughs. “I haven’t even touched your cock yet. You’re so pathetic, Satoru.”

“S-Suguru!” Satoru’s hand shoots out and grabs the headboard. The wood practically crumples under his touch. His body trembles as he comes, untouched, for the first time. 

Suguru swears under his breath and moans. His steel grip on Satoru’s waist tightens as he reaches his climax, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises. 

They stay stuck together for a moment, each of them recovering from their high, before Suguru pulls out. He ties off the condom and tosses it towards his trashcan before turning his attention to the poor, trembling man beneath him. 

“Satoru,” he coos, trying to guide him off the bed. 

Instead, the white haired man collapses, face pressed into the pillow and overstimulated dick pressed right in the wet spot where he came. “S…Suguru…”

He hums, flattered. “I’m all you can think about, huh? You just keep saying my name.”

He allows Satoru to lie there while he runs to the bathroom to retrieve his aftercare kit. When he returns, he wipes the fluids — tears, cum, lube, and spit — off of him. He forces him to sit up and have a juice pouch, then strips the bed and remakes it. Finally, they both collapse back on the mattress. 

Instantly, Satoru is on him. He’s like an octopus, oversized limbs clinging tightly and refusing to let go. 

Suguru isn’t against cuddling after sex in the slightest, but he never expected Satoru to be the one to initiate it. This can’t possibly be the same Satoru Gojo he went to school with. “You know…when we move in together, we can do this all the time. Did you like it?”

Satoru hums sleepily. “Yeah. Best thing I’ve ever felt.”

“Hmm.” Suguru chuckles. “Imagine what it will feel like when I actually touch your dick next time.”

“There’s a lot of stuff I want to try with you,” Satoru says softly, eyes already closed. He looks like he’s about to drift off to sleep. 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Suguru runs his fingers through his hair. 

“I dunno.” He shrugs. “It’ll come to me. I’m just — " he pauses to yawn. “I’m glad you’re doing this. Thanks for being my roommate. And giving me the best sex of my life.” 

“You’re welcome. On both accounts.” Suguru smiles softly at him. “You can barely keep your eyes open, Satoru. Just go to sleep.”

Something flutters in Satoru’s chest, something warm and alive. He doesn’t know what to call it, but as he falls asleep, he thinks of a word that might be fit to describe it. 

Love.