It's Not Love, But an Obession
Gojo x Fem Reader
Warnings: 18+. Stalking. (Private) Unprotected Sex. Obsession/Infatuation. Hand Job. Dacryphilia. Overstimulation. Manhandling. Trespassing. "Mirror" sex. Panty theft. Mentions of mastrubation/fantasizing.
A/n: This my piece for @dilf-uc / @suskeh 'You Collab'. This my first dc fic, so if I missed any warnings, please respectfully let me know.
Wc: 6.3k
You try to ignore the cool breeze that travels up your legs as you walk down the empty street, a few street lights flickering. The bottoms of your feet ache, rocks on the sidewalk digging into the sensitive pads of your feet cutting the skin, and the blisters from your heels burn with pain with every step you take. It’d been a mistake to let your friends drag you to the house party, knowing that at some point they would abandon you to your own devices.
It didn’t help your current situation that you had spent half the night trying to get away from one of your classmates, pink hair and tribal tattoos following you at every turn along with the smell of stale tobacco and alcohol. There had also been the occasional tug on the hem of your blue halter dress, the dancing fingers on your thigh causing bile to rise in your throat. It had taken you half an hour to lose him in the crowd of people dancing to ‘Hooked on a Feeling’. Swaying bodies pushing bumping into you as you looked for the familiar face of the three people you had arrived with, only to discover that they had long since left. With no choice but to walk home you took the blue and white platform heels off and started on your way back home.
Which had been your second mistake of the night. The temperature outside was much colder than the one inside the house. The cool early spring night causes goosebumps to appear on your exposed shoulders, back and legs. The walk home was also longer than you had anticipated, it certainly didn’t help that you had no idea where you were. The further down you walk down the street the more lost you become.
Let out a shaky breath, you stop near the end of the street, you can hear the sound of cars zooming in the distance, a signal that you're nearing the main road. The sidewalk you had been walking on abruptly disappears, turning into grass riddled with stickers, and the lamps above are becoming less reliable, more of them off than on.
The sound of a car approaching has you speeding up, the stickers on the bottoms of your feet digging into your skin painfully with every step you take. You suddenly become aware of the situation you're in, a knot forming in the back of your throat and bile rising as you think of the possible scenarios a girl like you could end up in the closer the rumbling of the car gets. Looking over your shoulders the headlights of the vehicle blind you, you can barely make out the figure of a man behind the wheel. You silently pray that the car doesn’t stop. That you make it home in one piece and not cut into pieces in the side of some ditch. Your stomach does nervous flips when the car slows down, windows rolling down next to you. Looking ahead of you you notice that the lights from the shops are within reach if you run. Someone would see you as long as you kept moving.
Forcing on foot in front of the other you ignore the ‘hey’s that the man throws at you, holding your arms closer to your body. You're close to reaching the end of the street, the sound of the passing cars just within earshot when the car, a yellow Volkswagen, in front of you drives up to the stop sign and stops. You freeze in your spot, watching as the driver's side opens, and a dark silhouette walks towards you. Your fight or flight instincts are starting to kick in when the shadow starts to call out for you again. “Hey, do you need a ride?” it asks, finally coming into the light.
You recognize the strands of white hair and the tall figure that stands underneath the street lamp. In front of you is one of your other classmates, one of the ones that usually sits in the back trying to go unnoticed by the professors. You feel yourself become at ease at the familiar face, the fear that had been coursing through your blood earlier dematerializing into nothing. “Hi, sorry I couldn’t see your face. It’s kinda dark.” you laugh, slowly making your way towards him,
“You’re in my history class with Professor Brown.” The two of you are now standing directly in the light, letting you see his face, “You’re…”
“Satoru Gojo. I sit right behind you in class.” He says, eyes scanning over you from the tip of your toes to the top of your head.
“Yeah, I remember now,” it becomes silent between the two of you for a moment, the quiet suffocating you slightly, “What are you doing here anyways?” you finally ask.
His blue eyes remain on your face, and you find yourself drowning in the vast ocean of blue of them. He’s taller than you, or at least he seems like he towers over you, long limbs resting at his sides, hands shoved into the deep pockets of his pants. “I was at a party and was just now heading home,” he answers, “ and I saw you walking and was wondering if you needed a ride? It’s pretty cold out and late, I doubt there’s any taxis or buses out now.”
He was right, none of the public transport services ran this late into the night. You had been hoping to find a public telephone and maybe phone one of the friends that hadn’t come, but now that you thought about it they probably won’t pick up with how late it was. Satoru’s offer was reasonable and he probably won’t do anything right?
The rocks beneath your feet dig further into the soles of your feet, and the cold air is starting to sting, the fingers on your hands and feet turn a light shade of pink. It’s not the brightest idea, but he’s your only option if you want to get home without getting frostbite. “Yeah sure. I’d love a ride. Thanks.”
You let Satoru lead you back to his car, the yellow of the Volkswagen illuminated by the yellow of the streetlamp. You let him open the door, letting you peek into the leather interior of his car. When you sit into the passenger side the heat coming from the vents warms your cold skin, the goosebumps disappearing, and the leather immediately sticks onto the back of your thighs. The door slams shut, and you watch as Satoru moves across the front of the car, slightly jogging to his side.
The rumble of the car is low as he revs the engine a few times before pulling out from the side, only to stop again at the intersection. It’s quiet and warm inside the car, and it gulfs you to where you drop your guard down more. You miss the way Satoru’s eyes linger on the exposed skin of your chest and legs. Miss the way his fingers twitch when he sees the hem of your dress ride up when you shift in your seat. Maybe if you hadn’t been too distracted by the thoughts running through your head you would’ve noticed them.
“So why did you leave the party?” Satoru asks, turning to keep his eyes on the road ahead of him as he turns on to the main road. His thumbs are sliding slowly along the curve of the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white from how tight he is gripping on to them. He already knows why.
He’d seen the lingering touchers and glances. He’d seen the pink haired jock corner. Seen him slide his hand under your dress. Satoru had witnessed you throwing a drink in his face before disappearing out into the street. Up until that point Satoru had felt jealous, but after seeing the deep scowl on your face and the downturn of your lips he considered himself lucky not to be on the receiving end of your rage.
You sigh, pulling the hem of your blue dress down, chewing the inner part of your cheek. “It was getting stuffy,” you lie.
Satoru hums, slowly pulling up to a red light, “You live near campus right?” He already knows where, but it would be strange if he didn’t ask…right?
“Oh…um yes, Henderson Apartments. Number 1029, there’s a giant green flamingo my roommate put out front.”
“A green flamingo?” He laughs, looking at you from under his white bangs.
Nodding your head you chuckle, “Um…my roommate has a bit of trouble with authority figures, so when our landlord came to our apartments telling her we couldn’t have our Christmas lights hanging from the window, she sort of went batshit. The green flamingo is the most noticeable thing on our flower bed,” you start listing more of the crazy decorations your roommate had put out, “there’s also a pink duck, a gnome with a rainbow coming out of it’s ass, and a fake weed plant, which yes we have gotten the police called on us several times, yet she refuses to take it down.” He already knew all of this, had been to your apartment so many times that he had lost count, but you didn’t know.
Satoru laughs, turning the wheel as he turns towards the university you both attended, “Why not mention the gnome, why the green flamingo, I’d be mostly likely to notice the gnome pooping out a rainbow.”
He watches the way you shyly smile at him, pushing a few strands of your hair behind your ears, the large hoop earrings exposed from him to see now. “Well someone stole it last night.” That someone had just happened to be him, after he’d accidentally knocked it down when you and your roommate were arriving home, he had no choice but to take the damn thing with him. “You're going to turn left up here,” you inform him, leaning forward, your breast spilling from the top of your dress. Satoru swallows the groan that threatens to spill from his lips as he watches the strings wrapped around your chest strain against the ample amount of cleavage. The distraction forces him to turn sharply into the parking lot of your apartment’s lot, making you swing against the passenger door, the hem of your dress riding up your legs and exposing the soft top parts of your thighs. His knuckles turn white, watching out of the corner of his eyes as you readjust in your seat, the sound of your thighs unsticking from the leather seats filling the inside of the car. "Uh you can just park up here. Thanks for the ride."
You smile at him, hand hovering over the handle while he pulls into a parking space. You're a little more disheveled now than when he found you. Hair messily framing your face and falling into loose curls on your shoulders, one of your hair clips hanging from a strand. He wonders if maybe this is how you would also look post makeout session.
“Let’ me walk you to your door,” he says, mouth moving on it’s own.
“You don’t have to. Really it’s literally like five steps from here,” but he's already opening and closing his door, walking across the front of the volkswagen. You awkwardly swing your bare feet out of his car, the cool pavement beneath feel uncomfortable against the pads, and walk silently up to the front of your door with Satoru beside you. Standing there in absolute silence you eye your door, swallowing the spit that forms in the back of your throat, and yet your mouth somehow still feels dry. “Well…we’re here,” you laugh, scratching your arm that isn’t holding your heels.
“Yeah we are,” Satoru sighs, glancing at the flowerbed in front of the two windows. There among the dying plants is the green flamingo, standing tall and proud above all the dead shrubs. If he doesn’t mention it’ll seem strange right? Like he's been here countless times before to not be unfazed by the ungodly thing. Letting out an awkward chuckle he points at the hideous thing, “Hey it's the green flamingo. I don’t see the pink duck though.”
“Let’s hope someone stole that thing too.” you answer, leaning against the door, one hand resting on the door knob, with your upper body leaning in towards him while your ass rests on it. You're looking at him from the bottoms of his black shoes to the top of his white head where the moonlight is bouncing off the strands. The words fly easily out of your mouth, no hesitation or thought of how they could be interpreted as, “Why don’t you come in?”
~
It was easy to pretend like he’d never been in your apartment. Like the yellow walls of your living room and the scent of eucalyptus weren’t something he’d memorized. As if he didn’t know you kept your coffee in the cupboard above your coffee maker, and that there was a stack of halfway read books in the left cabinet of your entertainment center. He moves around the entrance of your apartment as if he hadn’t snuck in multiple times since he saw you enter the one class he had with you. As if he didn’t use the window to your bedroom to sneak in, one of the benefits of you staying on the first floor.
“Sorry the place is a bit of a mess. It’s usually not like this,” you say as you pick up the clothes that are scattered on the floor. It was true though, your place was the epitome of cleaness. Everything had a rightful place like your coffee, the only time anything was put out of place was when he’d come in. You’d rarely question it, blaming your forgetfulness on how tired you were from busy days studying.
“It’s fine,” Satoru answers, running his fingers across the back of your couch. Being inside of your home like this feels different. The thrill of sneaking is gone, replaced by the thought that you inviting him, allowing him inside your sanctuary means you expect more from this.
“Would you like something to drink?” you call from the kitchen.
He moves to look at the pictures that rest comfortably on your bookcase, as if he hadn’t seen them a million times over. Hadn’t studied your face in them. Hadn’t made copies of them for himself. He hums moving further into your home, following the sound of your voice, “No. I’m good, thank you.”
He reaches the doorway to the kitchen, blue eyes following you as you move around it comfortably despite the blisters on your feet. “Are you sure? I have beer and a few non-alcoholic drinks,” you list to him, bend down to take out a drink out of the fridge, the back of your skirt riding up giving a peek of the light blue panties you had on. The same pair he had switched out the night pior after your scent had vanished. If he was honest they were his favorite pair to steal, and now that he sees how nicely they hug your ass he likes them even more.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” he gulps, feeling the crotch of his pants tighten.
“Okay suit yourself,” you stand, fixing the end of your dress. When you turn around you find him looking at you, leaning against the frame of the kitchen door. He looks oddly big in your small kitchen, his whole body taking up the majority of the doorway, that it’s almost comical how huge he is. “Want to watch something?” you ask, pushing past him and back into your living room. You feel a jolt of electricity as your legs brush against the denim of his pants.
Being this close to him you can smell the scent of his cologne. Can feel the heat radiating from his body. It all feels too intense and hot. If you were to lean towards him your lips would touch his. His voice sends shivers along your spine, the smooth sound causing you to lean further into him, “Yeah. Sure”
You're still unsure of why you invited him in. You barely knew him, and yet you found yourself drawn to him. To the soft white hairs on the top of his head and the long curled lashes that adorned his soft blue eyes. You’re sipping on the strawberry seltzer in your hand. The tv is playing some random trashy show, but all you can focus on is the heat emitting from Satoru’s body. The more you sip on the alcoholic seltzer, body starting to warm up the more the bubbly drink goes into your bloodstream.
Soon enough you’re leaning in towards him, breasts pressed against the side of his arm. He can’t tell if you're doing it purposely or if you’re unaware of the effects you're having on him by sitting this close. Are you inviting him to do more than just enjoy a conversation with him? Or were you just this naive.
“You smell good,” you comment, breathing in the scent of his cologne.
Satoru smiles down at you, hand twitching to rest on the exposed skin of your upper thigh, “Do I?”
“Mmh, You do.” Your breathing directly against his lips down, hand resting on his thigh. Satoru can smell the scent of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and that aroma that is uniquely you. Your eyes are glassy from the alcohol and probably from the long night you had. If he leaned in a bit further he’d have his lips pressed against your bright red ones.
And just as the thought of ruining your perfectly applied lipstick crosses his mind, your lips are slotted against his. You taste of cherries and cheap tequila, and the smell of the party you had escaped is more prominent now that he’s pressed against you. Yet he still finds you to be the most addicting being on this earth.
The kiss is everything but sweet. It’s passionate, tongues dancing against each other, and hot breaths mixing with each other. There's a bit of drool slipping from the corners of your lips and the red lipstick you wore was smeared across your face and Satoru’s lips. You're needily gripping the nape of his neck pushing him further down your throat.
When you pull away both of you are breathless. Chests heaving, lungs begging for the air that stings as it makes its way into them. You laugh while looking at him, the bright red lipstick standing out against his pale skin.
He looks at you in awe, running his tongue along his bottom lip. Satoru wants nothing but to push back on the couch and have your dress bunched at your hips while you scream out his name. But he wants you to be the first to make a move, make sure that you want him just as much as he wants you. And waits for you to straddle to his lap and place his hands on your hips. Waits for you to press your lips against his once more, tongues fighting for dominance.
Satoru’s good at waiting. It’s what he’s been doing all these months. Waiting for you to forget to lock the door so he can come in. Waiting for the seat next to you in class to suddenly become vacant. Waiting for you to be alone. He’s been good at waiting, so he deserves to have you like this.
While he’s good at waiting, you’re not. Your hands impatiently pull at the buttons of his shirt, slipping underneath the then material to feel more of his skin. His own fingers slowly find solace in the inner part of your thighs, the hem of your dress brushing against his arm. His calloused fingers slide against the soft flesh of your thighs, rubbing in circular motions and pinching the fat of it.
You jolt a little at the pain, teeth bumping into his, and let out whine. “That was mean,” you pout adjusting yourself on his lap so that your core is now pressed directly on his boner. Satoru groans when you slowly grind down on him. You were the one being mean, feigning innocence only to trap him like this beneath you.
“Was it?” He laughs, licking your bottom lip before gently pulling it between his teeth. He lets go when you whine in pain after he sinks his teeth into it. His hands continue their journey up your dress, pushing it up to your waist so he can get the full view of the lace painties you were wearing.
His breath hitches in the back of his throat at the sight. They hug your body nicely, accentuating your figure. The material is almost see through, moreso in the small wet patch that's starting to form between your folds. There’s a small ribbon in the center of the waistband, making Gojo think of you as some present that was given to him. He wonders if you're wearing a matching bra.
He tugs the material down your legs and past your knees, “Hold your dress up for me, doll,” he orders. You do as you're told and hold it up, bottom half exposed completely for him to see. Satoru runs his tongue across his lips before sliding the tip of his fingers along your lips, chuckling when you mewl above him. “So wet, and all I’ve done is kiss you.”
“Stop teasing,” you groan, grinding yourself down on his fingers. With his free hand Satoru reaches up to pull the knot at the back of your dress, letting the top half fall down from your chest. The sight before him is better than what he imagined. The light behind you causes a soft glow around your body, and the face of pleasure you wear makes you look like a piece of art that only he had the privilege of seeing.
“F-fuck,” he sighs before taking one of your pebbled nipples into is lips and sucking lightly. The reality of it all is better than what he imagined when he’d wrap his hand around himself at night. Not being able to help himself anymore he slips two of his fingers into your heat, curling them against your walls. He watches the way your eyes twitch shut as he starts to move them in and out slowly, opening and closing them simultaneously. Continuing he’s minstrations he presses the center of his thumb on your clit, lightly flicking it, and laughing when you whine and grind yourself further down his fingers.
He admires you from below as you start to ride his fingers. Your breathing heavily, mouth hanging open and head thrown back. Licking his lips he takes one of your breasts back into his mouth, nibbling at the hardened bud. Your walls clench around him, the feeling alone almost making him cum in his pants, and curl yourself into him. Your cheek is pressed against the top of his head, your hips grinding down into his palm as you chase your release. “I’m c-close.”
Gojo doesn’t realize it but his own hips are coming up from the couch, a desperate need to feel your clenching walls around he’s aching member. Soon, he tells himself while letting your nipple go with a pop, “Then let go. Come all over my fingers.”
It’s as if your body was made to follow his every command, because just as he punctuates his sentence you're shaking above him. Thighs closing around his palm, and nose buried into the white soft hair on the front of his head. “Fuuck.” Your moan out, your body losing all sense of touch and overcome with the white feeling of your release. Satoru hisses as your nails dig to the nape of his neck and the covered skin of his shoulders.
He coaxes you through your orgasm, fingers still moving side of your gushing cunt. “Your look so fucking hot when you cum, did you know that? Can’t wait to see that face you make when you squirt all over my fucking cock.” He groans, body jerking up into yours.
With your hips moving in lazy circles you slowly come down from your climax. There’s some drool coming out from the corners of your mouth, eyes shut close as you try to regain your breathing. Below you Satoru is pressing soft kisses along your chest and neck, gently nibbling along the underside of your jaw. You open your eyes to look back down at him, your eyes are watering from the intensity of your climax. Satoru finds the sight above him more arousing than he should, the need to make you cry while screaming his name overtaking his senses. He secures one arm around your waist and another grips your thigh, before standing up with you in his arms. He nuzzles his face into your neck, breathing in the aroma of your soap, and laying you down on the couch, body hovering over yours.
“T-that was great,” you breathe out, fingers combing through his white hair. You run your tongue across your bottom lip, legs wrapping around his waist. Your breathing is still heavy and your legs tremble around him. Satoru gives you a sly smile as he watches your disheveled state. This was a gift given to him by God himself.
“I know,” he blows air out through his lips. His fingers deep between your legs and gather the slick there and bring it up to his lips. He hum when the taste of your release makes contact with his tongue, “Fuck you taste so good, doll, I’ll have to have an actual tast next time.”
He doesn’t waste anymore time and starts undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt, his body shivering when your fingers run along the skin that becomes exposed, the tip of your finger running along the waistband of his pants. His lips meet yours again, hips rutting into your pelvis, hand sneaking in between to undo his belt buckle. Satoru lets out a gasp when one of your hands unexpectedly makes its way into the white material of his boxer briefs, your warm hand making contact with his hard cock.
His breathing and yours are mixing together as he blissfully enjoys the warmth of your hand. The blues of his eyes stare down into your own, bottom lip caught between his teeth. You're holding him so that the head of his cock rests against your wrist and the tip of your fingertips brush against his balls. You use the heels of your feet to push the rest of his pants and underwear down to his thighs, adjusting your hold on him, so that your fingers now wrap around him.
He gently humps into your hand, your hand twisting near the tip of his cock, before sliding back down towards his balls. You keep repeating the motion, a smirk on your lips as you watch him gasp and whine in pleasure, eyes struggling to stay open. His image of you becomes disoriented as you slide your hand along his length, the image of the good girl he thought you were blurring before him, but he still remains completely infatuated with you. And who’s to say you're still not a good girl. His good girl.
He can feel the muscles of his thighs trembling as you continue to please him with your hand, your thumb sliding across the slit every time your hand slides up towards the head of his dick. There’s an abundance of spit in his mouth, causing him to drool, and his head is thrown back against his shoulders, hips slightly thrusting into your palm. If this continues he won’t last much longer.
“S-Stop. Need to cum inside you.” He tells you, pulling your hand off of his throbbing length, His chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to regain some control of his body again. He doesn’t waste any more time and pushes your arm about your head, reaching down for your other to also place it in his large hands. He admires your form beneath him, dress still bundled up against your waist, legs wrapped securely around his hips, and hair spread out against the cushion of the couch. Ethereal. It’s the only way Satoru could describe how you looked to him in this moment.
Closing the distance between your lips, his body curls into yours, the tip of his cock nudging against your wet fold. You can feel his dick bob as he deepens the kiss, hands snaking between your bodies to position himself at your entrance. When the crown makes it past the tight ring, you gasp, eyes squeezing shut for a moment and your skin feeling as if it’s caught on fire. Satoru groans shakily above you, mouth ajar as he continues to push in, your warm walls pulsing around him.
If he were to die after this, after laying claim to your body, he’d die a happy man. There was nothing else that could cause the same amount of satisfaction as being able to hold your angelic form like this. Well there was maybe one thing that could: holding you like this for the rest of his life. And maybe if he played his cards right, he thinks, he could.
He just needs to make sure that you keep welcoming him into your bed. That you no one else gets near you. For your brain to be consumed by thoughts of only him. Satoru can make that happen, all he needs to do is get a few people out of your life, and make sure that he’s the only one who remains.
The sound of your whine draws him out of his trance, and he watches as you lose yourself further into the pleasure he’s bringing you as he grinds his hips against yours. Your back is arched up towards him, your baby blue nails digging into his biceps as you try to last a bit longer. He can feel your nails starting to draw blood as you grip on to him like your life depended on it. Can feel your slick coating the white hairs on his happy trail every time he brings his hips down to yours.
“R-right there,” you let out a shaky sigh, “Just a little more.” Satoru watches in awe as you start to thrust upwards to meet him, thighs spasming at his sides. You're starting to clench around him hard, walls sucking him as far as they can. He adjusts his hips a little trying to get that one spot that he knows will have you falling apart.
The two of you let out a gasp when your orgasm washes over you suddenly, small spurts of clear liquid drenching the couch cushion beneath you. Satoru takes back what he said earlier, he could die a happy man now. The sight underneath him is what he would call a true piece of art; your mouth hanging wide open, gasping for air, head thrown back against the couch. Your back arched and pressed against his, your nails dragging down his forearms, leaving bright red marks in their wake. Yes, Satoru could die a happy man now.
Satoru is brought back to reality by the painful throb of his dick still buried in your spasming walls. Having stopped when he noticed that you were squirting all over him and the couch, his dick is still as hard as ever. He can’t possibly go home like this. He presses a kiss to your forehead, ghosting his fingers over along your side, “Hey, think you can go another round. I haven't gotten to cum.” When you nod your head lazily he pulls out of you and manhandles you off the couch and onto the ground.
He settles behind you and helps you lay against the coffee table in front of you. He licks and nibbles along your spine, presses open mouthed kisses the back of your neck. He blows air onto the wet skin, making goosebumps appear. You can feel the head of his cock in between your ass, sliding in between them. You let out a moan when the head is pressed back inside you, eyes fluttering close. “Fuck, I think I can stay inside of you like this forever,” he groans, thrusting his hips into yours. Satoru’s fingers find themselves inside your mouth, making you gag when they reach the back. There’s fresh tears sliding down your face, and drool sliding out the corners of your mouth. The whines and moans you let out sound live a heavenly symphony to Satoru.
And maybe it was the look of despair in your eyes that made him do what he did next. With his hand still tangled around your hair he pulls you back against his chest, thrust upwards, laughing you let out a choke out moan. Your reflection on the tv stares back at you, breast bouncing around and eyes glazed over with pure bliss.
“Where do you want me to come?” Gojo grunts, face buried into your neck, teeth sinking in lightly into the skin there.
Your brain is in jumbles, barely able to make any coherent word, but you know what you want, what you wanted the moment his fingers touched you. “Inside,” you moan out, hands reaching back to pull on his hair, “I want you to come inside me, please.”
“Fuck. You sure?” You frantically nod, your third climax of the night approaching you quickly. In your depreciation for release you move your hips back to meet Satoru’s thrusts. Your letting out choked wails, the walls of your pussy clenching around Satoru’s dick.
Your body starts to feel tingly, fingers digging further into Gojo’s forearms, eyes struggling to stay open. And then it happens again. A warm feeling washes over you, your brain and body going numb. Spurts of clear liquid drenching Satoru’s pelvis and the carpet underneath your knees. Your mouth is opened in an ‘O’, goofy smile spreading across your face as pleasure flows through your body.
The sight of your fucked out face in the T.V. and the feeling of you squirting, sends Satoru over the edge. His thrusts falter right before he shoots his cum inside of you, your release and his mixing together. Gojo’s face is pressed against the back of your head, his hot breath hitting the nape of your neck everytime he lets out a gasp of air as he comes down from his high.
He pulls out, standing on shaky legs with you still in his arms. Your body is slack and pressed against his, eyes still hazy from your orgasm. He can hear you humming as he leads you to your room, laying you on top of the olive green duvet.
Satoru presses a kiss to your forehead, heading towards your bathroom, pulling a white towel from the top drawer you keep them in. When he returns to the room, you're further up on the bed, the throw blanket you kept on the edge of your bed covering your body. He smiles at himself when he sees an angelic face while you sleep. Dropping the towel he slides in underneath you, blanket covering him from the waist down, and pulls you close.
He lets his mind wonder as you fall deeper into the realm of sleep, soft snores leaving your lips. Satoru could see the two of you spending every night like this for the rest of your lifes like this. He just has to make sure that no one tries to keep you from him.
~
"It's an act, you know that right? The whole 'I'm too good for you to touch me' act. It's all an act she puts on for us to want, to chase, her," Sukuna leans back talking a long drag of the joint that was handed to him.. a puff of white smoke curling in the air when he breathes out, "Underneath it all she's a fucking whore. Talk to any of her exes, they'll tell you about the little box she keeps underneath her bed with the fuzzy pink cuffs and the red gag ball."
And that’s how he finds himself here again, the window to your bedroom opened, letting the cool summer breeze in, and his hands digging through all the same hiding places he had found already. Searching for that one thing that only he should know about. He’s bent all the way under your bed, hands blindly searching for the box.
And find it he does. Pushing himself out he holds it in his lap, thumb tracing the long edge. When he opens it, he's surprised to find not only the gag ball and cuffs, but also polaroid pictures. Your face is hidden in most of them, only the bottom part of your face showing with the red ball secured into it, body bare and spread. There’s a few others where you're wearing a lingerie set he’d found in the back of your closet while searching earlier, legs spread while a cock was shoved into your weeping cunt.
He’d be pissed to know that someone that wasn’t him had gotten to see you like this, but if anything he’s intrigued. Why would you keep these? Why would you let anyone do this to you? Would you ever show him this side of you?
The sound of the front of your apartment leaves him frozen next to your bed. Footsteps drawing closer and closer to your bedroom. He quickly tries to shove the box back underneath the bed where he had found it. The sound of the bedroom door creaking open. He stands in a rush, but it's too late.
Wide eyes stare back at him. Hand shaking over the door knob to your bedroom, and a gun pointed directly at him.
“What are you doing here?”
General Taglist: @fushigum @sadtrains @rinsangel @hollowpurpl@mvttsvn @chaotic-fangirl-blog @tirzamisu @fiona782 @fairybnha3 @sunascumdoll @jojowantstocry @iwaizumis-bitch @rory-cakes @anothanobody @criesinpisces @wuyaiscrow
Jujutsu Kaisen Taglist: @multistan-247 @rogueofbullshit@akalimitsuri @tomurastrashpanda @aeanya @dukina