BEA

now there’s a giant pizza in the middle of the table that you’ve barely touched, while satoru’s already halfway through his third slice. rio keeps smiling and saying things like, “satoru told me you guys have been friends forever, that’s so cute,” in a sweet voice that makes you want to crawl under the table and disappear.

“oh, has he?” you mutter, picking at the crust of your pizza. “we actually met because he stole the last muffin in the cafeteria during orientation week.”

“he does that,” rio laughs, resting her hand on satoru’s arm again. “he stole my parking spot the day we met.”

“of course he did,” you say, forcing a little smile. “very satoru. but really it worked out fine, because satoru’s lactose intolerant, and i’m pretty sure that muffin from orientation ruined the rest of his day. so, don’t let him anywhere near your tiramisu later unless you want to spend the movie listening to him complain.”

“wait, you’re lactose intolerant?” rio asks, turning to satoru.

“she’s making it sound way worse than it was,” satoru says, stealing another bite of your pizza. “i’m not that lactose intolerant. i had, like, one bad night. one time. and she’s never let me live it down.”

“you cried,” you deadpan. “and texted me at two in the morning saying you were dying.”

“i said i felt like i was dying.”

“you sent me a picture.”

“i absolutely did not—”

“you were on the floor, satoru,” you cut in, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead in an overdramatic impression. “‘i’m on the floor. i think this is it. tell my story.’”

rio lets out a slightly nervous laugh, unsure if she’s allowed to find this funny. suguru, however, laughs beside you.

“he’s always been a little dramatic,” suguru agrees.

satoru turns to rio, propping his chin on his hand. “don’t listen to her. she’s just trying to change the subject because she talks in her sleep.”

“i do not.”

“you absolutely do.”

“i don’t!”

suguru smiles into his drink. “that’s kinda cute, actually.”

“you’d think so until you actually hear her,” satoru says, pointing at you. “remember that camping trip last summer? i woke up in the middle of the night thinking someone was outside the tent but turns out she was just talking in her sleep and drooling all over her sleeping bag.”

“oh, you mean the trip where you woke up clutching a flashlight like your life depended on it because you were scared of some birds?” you fire back. “you mean that trip?”

suguru snorts. “he was scared of birds?”

“oh, he was terrified,” you say, glancing at rio. “milk and birds are very sensitive topics for satoru.”

“says the girl who still sleeps with a teddy bear every night.”

rio covers her mouth, failing to hide her laugh. “you still sleep with a teddy bear?”

“yeah, and it only has one eye,” satoru adds.

“it has both eyes!”

“one of them is a button.”

“because i had to sew it back on after you kicked him off the bed!”

“it was an accident!”

“sure. an accident. you’ve never liked him in the first place.”

“i don’t hate him! didn’t i apologize to the bear? you made me apologize to him!”

“because you ripped his eye off!”

the table goes quiet for a beat. not the comfortable kind. the kind where you suddenly notice the clatter of the kitchen somewhere behind you and the scrape of someone’s chair two tables over. 

rio and suguru exchange a look across the table.

“…you guys have a lot of history,” rio says carefully.

“we really don’t,” you say at the exact same time satoru says, “we really do,” and you both look at each other for a second.

“seriously?” you mutter.

“what?” he replies, all innocent.

the table falls into an excruciating silence. suguru suddenly seems deeply fascinated in the condensation running down the side of his glass, while rio suddenly finds the floor very interesting.

finally, rio clears her throat. “i’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

“i’ll walk with you,” suguru says way too fast, already sliding out of the booth. he shoots satoru a very clear fix this look before the two of them disappear toward the front of the restaurant.

the second they’re gone, you turn on satoru. he reaches across the table and casually steals another slice of your pizza.

“what are you doing?”

“eating pizza,” he answers with his mouth full.

“satoru.”

“mhmm?” he leans back, one arm draped along the top of the booth, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who’s supposedly here on a date with someone else.

“you’re doing this on purpose.”

“doing what?”

“you brought up the teddy bear.”

“you said that i’m scared of birds.”

“because you brought up the sleep talking!”

“because you started with the lactose intolerance!”

“because you stole my muffin three years ago!”

“which,” he says, pointing the crust at you, “was clearly the best decision i’ve ever made.”

you let out a laugh. “what is your mission here? to embarrass me in front of suguru?”

“oh please. like i have nothing better to do.” he takes another bite. “what about you? telling rio i cried on the bathroom floor?”

“you did cry on the bathroom floor.”

“i was in pain!”

“you texted me i think this is how i go.”

“i thought it was!”

“you also asked me to clear your search history.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “can you please stop bringing that up?”

“never.”

he sighs, then takes another bite of your pizza. “anyway… what’s with you tonight?”

“what’s with me?”

“yeah. you’ve been taking shots at me all night. i thought i was doing you a favor setting you up with suguru.”

you let out a bitter laugh. “who even is rio? do you even know her last name?”

“of course i do,” he says, pausing for half a second. “it’s a very pretty name.”

“oh really?”

“yeah. way prettier than yours.”

“so what is it then?”

“that’s not the point.”

“wow.” you shake your head. “you’re on a date with a girl whose last name you don’t even know.”

“why do you care? you’re here with suguru.” he watches you and then that dangerous grin spreads across his lips. you already hate that grin. “oh my god.” 

“what?”

“you’re jealous.”

“i am not jealous.”

“you absolutely are.” he leans in, lowering his voice, the noise of the restaurant suddenly feeling very far away. “wanna know a secret?” before you can stop yourself, you lean in a little too. his smile only gets wider. “i think i’m into it… seeing you all worked up over me.”

“i am not worked up.”

“your ears are red.”

“it’s warm in here.”

“it’s really not.”

“satoru—”

“you could just say it, you know,” he says, and the teasing falls away a little. “instead of doing all this. you could just tell me.”

“tell you what?”

he opens his mouth—

“got ‘em!” suguru’s voice cuts through the moment like a bucket of ice water. he slides back into the booth beside you, way too cheerful. “movie tickets secured. four seats, back row. there’s an aisle in between, but it should be fine.”

you quickly look down at your glass, tracing patterns in the condensation. across from you, satoru leans back against the booth like nothing happened.

suguru glances between the two of you. “…you guys good?”

“great,” you say.

“perfect,” satoru says at the exact same time.

︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵

the theater is already mostly full by the time you make it inside. the four of you walk down the aisle with popcorn and drinks in hand. you go in first on purpose. your plan is simple: you, suguru, aisle, rio, and then satoru. because that is how a double date is supposed to work, and it would put a very sensible amount of distance between you and satoru for the next two hours.

suguru starts to follow you in. and then satoru steps around him, drops into the seat right beside you, swings his long legs out, and settles in like he’s been there the whole night.

suguru blinks at him. satoru looks up at him and says nothing and does not move even an inch. there’s a long pause. then suguru sighs like he has decided this particular hill is not worth dying on tonight, and slides into the next seat over. rio settles beside him. 

you stare at suguru. he gives you a helpless shrug that very clearly says this one’s on you.

you turn to satoru. “you’re sitting next to me.”

“yeah,” he says. “that’s usually how sitting works.”

“that’s not how a double date works, satoru.”

“i don’t know. seems fine to me.” he glances down at your empty hands. “where’s your popcorn?”

“i was going to share with suguru before you decided i was not going to sit next to him.”

“oh.” he doesn’t look sorry at all. he simply holds his bucket out toward you. “here.”

you stare at the popcorn. then at him. he raises his eyebrows, waiting like this is a completely reasonable solution to the problem he created.

you take the popcorn. because you’re not arguing anymore, and also because you’re a little hungry.

“there you go,” he says.

the movie’s only been on for about twenty minutes when you reach into the tub and your fingers brush directly against his. his hand is already in there, waiting, not even pretending to be subtle.

you pull back quickly. “sorry.”

you wait a minute and try again. his hand is still right there.

“you’re doing that on purpose.”

“doing what?” he asks.

“putting your hand exactly where i’m about to put mine.”

“i’m just eating popcorn.” he tilts the tub toward you. “here. plenty of room. go ahead.”

you stare at him. he stares back, the picture of pure innocence. 

you wait. you watch him pull his hand back, rest it on his knee. you count to ten in your head, then reach in again—

his hand dives in at the exact same moment, fingers bumping into yours. he makes a small, thoughtful hum like oh, what a coincidence.

“satoru—”

“hm?” he’s already popping the stolen popcorn into his mouth, eyes glued to the screen.

you turn back to the movie, arms crossed. fine. you are a grown adult. you can ignore him. you don’t even want popcorn anymore. you’re just going to sit here like a mature, unbothered adult and watch the film.

you last exactly three minutes.

this time when you reach in, his hand catches yours completely. warm fingers curl loosely around your entire hand inside the tub. he doesn’t even pretend it’s an accident.

you freeze.

the movie keeps playing. someone says something dramatic on screen. you have no idea what.

“satoru,” you whisper.

“yeah?”

“let go.”

“i’m not doing anything.”

“you are holding my hand.”

“our hands happen to be in the same place, yeah.” he tilts his head toward the screen. “good movie, by the way. you should watch it.”

“i hate you,” you whisper.

“no you don’t,” he replies softly. his thumb slowly strokes across the back of your hand—warm, slow, and so deliberately gentle it makes your breath catch.

you keep staring straight ahead, heart hammering against your ribs. something explodes on the screen. someone wins something. you have completely lost the plot. the only thing you can focus on is satoru’s hand curled warmly around yours inside the nearly empty popcorn tub, his thumb lazily tracing the side of your palm like he has all the time in the world.

you are gripping a mostly empty container in a crowded theater, desperately trying to look like a normal person watching a movie and not someone on the verge of a complete breakdown.

then he shifts in his seat.

the tub in his lap tilts slightly, and suddenly you feel it—hot, hard, and unmistakably pressed against the back of your fingers through the thin cardboard. 

your face burns.

satoru’s free hand grips the armrest a little too hard. you catch it from the corner of your eye. he tries to play it cool, but you feel the way he subtly adjusts his hips, trying (and failing) to ease the pressure without drawing attention. the movement only makes it worse. the thick outline drags heavier against your knuckles.

your face burns hotter. you don’t dare move. not even to pull your hand away. the theater is dark, but it suddenly feels blindingly bright, like every single person around you can sense exactly what’s happening under that stupid popcorn tub.

you should yank your hand back. you should. but then your fingers move—accidentally, of course—pressing more firmly against the thick shape of him. he’s so hard it makes your stomach flip. 

for a second he’s completely still, then he lets out a shaky exhale that sounds suspiciously like a laugh he’s trying to choke down. “fuck… you’re really gonna do this to me right here?” he whispers. 

his fingers tighten around yours, the ones still laced together. then, without warning, he pushes your intertwined hands down harder against his cock. the move is bold. greedy. he rocks his hips up just enough to grind the heavy length against your palm, letting you feel every inch of how badly he’s losing it.

he bites down on his lip, head tipping back against the seat. his breathing is no longer steady. neither is yours. he guides you again, pressing your palm down harder, encouraging you to rub along his full length from base to tip.

you’re pretty sure you’re two seconds away from actually dying in this theater seat. “satoru… we can’t do this here.” the words come out weak, almost breathless. even you don’t fully believe them.

“why not,” he whispers right against your ear, lips brushing your skin. “been so fucking hard for you the whole evening… you have no idea what you’ve been doing to me.”

your pulse is racing. you swallow hard, eyes darting toward the rows around you. “someone will see,” you whisper.

satoru doesn’t even hesitate. with his free hand, he reaches behind his neck and tugs off his oversized black sweater. the thin white t-shirt underneath rides up, flashing a tempting strip of toned, pale skin and his lower abs before it settles back down and then he drapes the sweater over his lap.

he grabs your hand again—still intertwined with his—and guides it right back under the soft black material. he presses your palm firmly against the burning outline of his cock.

“better?” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple, voice teasing even as it trembles with need. “no one can see now… so touch me. please… i’m dying for it.”

this is a horrible idea.

the thought screams in your head as your fingers stayed glued to his cock under the heavy fabric of his sweater. the movie is still playing, some loud action scene flashing across the screen, but all you can focus on is the very real possibility that this entire theater is about to call the police. or worse… that suguru and rio, who are sitting just two seats over to your left, might glance over at any second and see exactly what’s happening under that black sweater.

“satoru, this is insane. suguru and rio are right there—”

he doesn’t let you finish. his hand tightens over yours, guiding you again, pressing your palm fully against his throbbing cock and dragging it slowly up and down his length. the heat under the sweater is ridiculous. he’s impossibly hard, twitching every time your fingers move.

“should i touch you instead?” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “but you have to keep quiet for me.”

the suggestion sends a fresh wave of heat through you. you know you should say no. you know this is risky and stupid and completely insane… but the thought of touching him again makes your mouth go dry.

instead of pulling away, your fingers curl tighter around him.

satoru lets out a shaky exhale as he guides your hand lower, helping you cup the heavy, throbbing base of his cock. your face burns, but you don’t stop. you want this. even if your heart is racing like it’s trying to escape your chest.

under the thick cover of his sweater, you start to stroke him slowly, feeling the full, heavy length of his cock twitch against your palm. satoru’s head tips back again, eyes closed as he bites down on his lip to stay quiet.

he shifts lower in his seat, hips tilting toward you. with one hand, he unbuckles his belt and pops the button of his jeans open, then tugs the zipper down just enough. 

the moment your fingers wrap around him, skin to skin, satoru’s whole body tenses. he’s burning hot, velvet-smooth, and achingly hard. thick enough that your fingers don’t quite meet as you curl them around his shaft. you feel him throb in your grip, a bead of wetness already smearing against your palm.

you’ve drawn him before—multiple times, in secret, late at night when your mind wouldn’t stop thinking about him, you drawn him in his dorm room, in class. you knew the shape. the length. the way the head flared. but this… this is completely different.

he feels impossibly hot in your palm, almost feverish. the skin is silky-smooth and velvet-soft over steel-hard thickness. he’s even bigger than you imagined when your pencil was moving across the page. your fingers don’t quite close all the way around him, and the weight of his heavy cock resting in your grip makes your thighs press together.

you feel the prominent vein running along the underside pulsing against your fingers as you stroke him slowly. every throb makes him twitch in your hand, jumping slightly like he’s overly sensitive. the head is slick already—smooth, swollen, and leaking steadily. when your thumb brushes over it, you smear the warm, slippery pre-cum across the tip, and satoru’s breath stutters hard.

“shit…” he hisses quietly, head falling forward. “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted your hand on me like this.”

every slow stroke makes him leak more, coating your fingers and making the glide smoother and wetter. you keep stroking him under the sweater, a little bolder now. your fingers slide up and down his thick length, twisting slightly around the head on every upstroke just the way he seems to like. the slick sound of your hand moving over his pre-cum-coated cock is muffled by the sweater and the loud movie, but it still feels dangerously loud to you.

satoru’s breathing is ragged against your ear. every time you squeeze a little tighter or brush your thumb across the sensitive underside of his head, his cock twitches hard in your grip and he lets out a choked sound.

all the while, your mind is spiraling. you can’t stop imagining how this dick would feel inside you. you picture it stretching you open, that heavy, blunt head pushing past your entrance, forcing you to take every inch while he whispers filthy things against your neck. 

you imagine the way he’d throb deep inside you, the drag of those veins against your walls, the way he’d bottom out and grind against that spot that makes your back arch. you’d probably cry. you’d probably beg. 

your mind is spiraling out of control.

you can’t stop imagining dropping your head into his lap right here, right now. you want to take him into your mouth so badly, to taste him and feel that thick cock sliding over your tongue as you sink down until he hits the back of your throat. you want him to grip your hair and push deeper, fucking your throat while he tries desperately not to moan loud enough for the whole theater to hear.

the fantasy makes you clench around nothing. your hand moves a little faster, slicker, tighter.

“fuck, just like that—” he groans under his breath, barely keeping his voice down. “you’re gonna make me cum if you keep—ah—squeezing me like that…”

he’s panting now, body tense and trembling as you work him closer and closer under the cover of his sweater. it doesn’t take long. a few more firm strokes and then his teeth sink hard into his bottom lip, muffling the groan that tries to escape.

“fuck—i’m—”

thick, hot ropes of cum spill over your fingers, pulse after pulse, messy and endless, flooding your palm and dripping down between your fingers. satoru’s cock twitches in your grip with every spurt, leaking more and more hot cum and quickly soaking into the front of his boxers until the fabric is warm and drenched.

when it finally starts to slow, your hand is dripping with his cum. some of it has even leaked down onto his balls and the waistband of his boxers, making everything under the sweater a complete mess.

“…shit. look what you did to me.” a soft, dazed chuckle escapes him. “made such a fucking mess.”

satoru slumps in his seat for a moment, still catching his breath, his cock softening but still twitching. he lets your fingers run over his softening cock—slow, gentle strokes along the slick, sensitive length. even soft, he feels heavy and warm in your hand, the skin slippery with his own release.

then he turns his head, lips brushing your ear again. “let me return the favor.” and then he catches your wrist and brings your cum-covered hand to his mouth. his lips part, and he slowly sucks your fingers in, tongue gliding over them as he licks his own release off your skin. eyes on you as he watches your reaction.

the theater suddenly feels ten degrees hotter.

when he pulls back, a string of saliva and cum connects his bottom lip to your fingertip for a second before it breaks. he glances down at his own messy hands, the evidence of what you did to him still dripping slowly over his fingers.

“you on birth control?” he asks.

you shake your head, cheeks burning. “no…”

“okay,” he says, clearly running through his options. “bathroom?”

you freeze not sure what he suggests for a second. satoru leans in closer and presses a soft kiss just below your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

“let me take care of you. i can still make you cum on my tongue.”

your brain goes blank. before you can even spiral further, before you can decide between dying of shame or dragging him out of the theater yourself, the credits start rolling across the screen and the lights begin to slowly brighten.

before you can spiral into a full panic attack or seriously consider dragging satoru out by the collar, the credits start rolling and the theater lights begin to slowly brighten like a cruel spotlight on your sins.

“fuck,” satoru mutters beside you, quickly stuffing himself back together. “the movie’s over already?”

oh my god.

you just jerked off your best friend in the middle of a double date. in a movie theater. while suguru and rio were sitting two seats away. what would your grandma think of you? you are going straight to hell. there’s no coming back from this. they’re probably already reserving your seat next to the guy who invented pineapple on pizza.

suguru stands up on the other side of the aisle and looks over at you with a casual smile. “great movie, right?”

you don’t remember a single second of it.

“yeah! super… space-y.” you’re on your feet before your brain even gives the order, clutching your bag to your chest. “it’s really hot in here, right? i’m gonna head out first—”

suguru’s hand gently catches your wrist. “hey, you good?”

“totally! one hundred percent. never better.” you nod way too many times, smiling so wide it hurts.

he glances down at your hand—the one still glistening with the evidence of your crime—and his brow furrows slightly.

“you’re… sweating?”

your soul leaves your body.

“the movie was really unnerving,” you ramble, the words tumbling out in pure panic. “very tense. lot of, um, stakes.”

suguru blinks. the movie was really not that unnerving. but before he can point that out, you pull your wrist free and continue your desperate escape, squeezing past the last few people in the row like a criminal fleeing the scene.

︵︵︵ ๑ ♡ ๑ ︵︵︵

you’re pacing a small circle outside the theater entrance, arms wrapped around yourself and your brain is going about a thousand miles an hour. your hands are still sticky. gross. warm. you can literally feel satoru’s cum drying between your fingers and it’s making you lose your mind even faster.

okay. okay okay okay. what the fuck was that. what just happened in there.

when did agreeing to this stupid double date turn into fighting over the popcorn tub only for satoru’s thick hard cock to suddenly be right there pressing against your fingers and then he was guiding your hand around him and you were actually jerking him off in the middle of the theater and he came so much all over your fingers and then he licked his own cum off your skin like it was the most normal thing in the world and—

this was supposed to be a double date.

a normal, safe, four-person group thing. you, suguru, satoru, and whoever the girl was he was supposed to bring. instead you ended up jerking your best friend off in the dark while your other friends sat two seats away completely clueless. 

you’re a horrible person. 

you’re a menace. 

you’re never showing your face in public again.

your face feels like it’s on fire. your thighs keep pressing together because you’re still stupidly wet from everything that happened and that only makes you spiral harder.

what is happening with satoru.

why did he want to sit right next to you. why is he always orbiting you like this and making your life ten times more complicated than it needs to be. didn’t he bring a girl he was supposedly into? then why the hell did he spend the entire movie glued to your side like he couldn’t breathe without touching you. why did he sound so desperate when he whispered please like that. why did he look at you with those stupid pretty eyes right after he came all over your hand like he was two seconds away from dragging you into the nearest bathroom and dropping to his knees to return the favor right there on the dirty floor.

you’re so fucked. you’re actually so fucked.

“hey.”

you jump so hard you nearly drop your bag. satoru is right beside you, hands shoved deep in his pockets, hair slightly messy from the wind.

“what are you doing out here, it’s freezing.” without waiting for an answer he’s already tugging his black sweater off over his head and holding it out to you.

“i don’t need it,” you say.

“you’re literally shivering.”

“i’m fine.”

“take the sweater.” he doesn’t even argue. he steps closer and drapes it over your shoulders himself. it’s still warm from his body and it smells like him—clean, a little sweet, dangerously comforting. you hate how much you notice.

you clear your throat, trying to pull yourself together. “where’s suguru? and rio?”

satoru shrugs, sliding his hands back into his pockets. “they left.”

“left? like… together?”

“yeah. i think they like each other.” he glances at you sideways, a small smile tugging at his lips. “looks like we both got ditched by our dates. tragic.”

“oh,” you mumble. then, because you feel like you have to, “i’m sorry about your date.”

“what date.”

“rio? the girl you brought?”

“i didn’t even know her last name,” he says with zero shame. “met her at the vending machine outside the athletic building a few days ago, asked if she wanted to come. that was the whole thing.”

you stare at him. “satoru.”

“what?”

“you brought a literal stranger to a double date and now she left with suguru.”

he rocks back on his heels, grinning like none of this bothers him in the slightest. “i mean, good for them. sounds like they’re having a much better night than i was—sitting there for two hours trying not to lose my mind next to the girl i actually like.”

you blink. “…the girl you like?”

satoru rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little shy for once. 

“yeah,” he says, quieter this time. “i like you. like… a lot. have for a while now.” he lets out a soft laugh. “if you didn’t already figure it out from the whole ‘coming in two seconds the second you touched me’ thing… well. now you know.”

he steps closer, those bright blue eyes locked on yours. your heart races.

“and i think you like me too,” he adds, voice softer now.

you clutch the front of his sweater, mind still reeling.

“satoru…”

he tilts his head and watches you carefully. “i really want to kiss you right now,” he says, “but we’re standing in a shady movie theater parking lot and two people over there are staring at us. plus you made me cum before i even kissed you, which feels kinda backwards and ungentlemanly… so instead, i’m gonna ask you something.”

your heart races so hard you can barely breathe.

“what?” you whisper.

satoru smiles.

“will you go out on a real date with me? a proper one. just us. no strangers or best friends two seats over, and definitely with the right order of events this time.” his grin turns wicked. “talking… then kissing… then making you cum.”

“oh my god, satoru, stop,” you groan, covering your burning face with both hands. his words shoot straight between your legs and you hate how much you like it.

he laughs—that bright, carefree sound you’ve always been weak for—and gently pulls your hands down from your face.

“can’t help it. you do this to me.” his thumbs moves softly over your knuckles. “but i’m serious. let me do this right. one date. just you and me. no running away this time.” 

he leans in closer, voice dropping into that low, dangerous tone again.

“and then… i can finally kiss you. taste you. make you feel as good as you made me feel in that theater.”

you bite your lip. “…okay,” you say softly, a shy smile breaking through. “yes. i’ll go on a proper date with you.”

satoru’s whole face lights up. he steps closer, cups the side of your face with one warm hand, and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. then he tilts his head and whispers right against your ear, “good. because once i finally get you alone, i’m gonna bury my face between your thighs and eat that pretty pussy until you’re shaking and crying my name. gonna make up for coming so fast earlier… and then fuck you slow and deep like i’ve been fantasizing about for way too long.”

you shiver, a tiny helpless sound slipping out. he pulls back with a satisfied smirk.

“alright,” he says, pulling out his phone like he didn’t just melt your brain. “i’m calling us an uber. our original driver apparently left with my fake date.”

he winks at you, tapping on his screen, while you stand there, face burning and legs barely working, on ther verge of passing out right here on the sidewalk like a victorian maiden who saw an ankle.

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◞　author’s notes well… that escalated quickly lmaooo. i didn’t initially plan to write smut with this one but oh well, satoru wants what he wants or something like that. anywayyyy thank you so much for reading!! this story is a mess but i’m having way too much fun writing it. see you in the next chapter 🥰🥰

Sukuna noticed how independent you were, initially he never had a problem with it. You tend to get things done quickly and correctly, why fix what's not broken?

But the last couple of months, it was really starting to get on his nerves.

Two months ago, you were invited to do a presentation in front of NASA members: astronomers, and astrophysicists. You were allowed a place in a room full of people with knowledge years ahead of yours.

You didn't make it a big deal, yeah you were excited but that doesn't mean it was important enough to tell everyone about. So you worked on your presentation for weeks, your system was full of energy drinks and deprived of sleep. You didn't keep it a secret, when Shoko and Nanami asked about what you were working on, you mindlessly told them everything.

Which is why Sukuna showed up ten minutes early, disheveled and out of breath, with flowers in his off hand. Was he mad? A little but you looked so good in professional clothes he gave it a pass.

You stood up there with a small smile, explaining your discoveries diving deep into dark energy— which is truly a mystery. Sukuna didn't understand a single word uttered in that room, but you looked so happy, and passionate. Like you belonged there.

The way you bit your lip nervously when you asked if anyone had questions, or when your eye's sharped playfully look when a professor tried to challenge you.

Sukuna was the first one to see you, trying to grab you hand to help you down, but you reached for the rail before you reached for him. Your eyes widened, "What're you doing here?" Glancing down at your watch then back at him, "don't you have practice right now?"

He held the bouquet towards you, "I can skip a day of practice, the real question is why didn't you tell me about... all this?"

You shrugged taking the flowers, "It's not a big deal really..."

Sukuna scoffed, "You're speaking with those... space people, It is a big deal."

"I knew you had practice today... and I didn't want you to miss it because of me." He grabbed your arm pulling you into his chest sighing, "It's just practice, not a big deal." He let out a breathy laugh, "They need more practice than me anyways. Let's get dinner to celebrate."

That was the day he became more observant to your behaviors. You never asked for anything... like ever. You never randomly texted him that you were hungry and needed him to bring you food, he'd just see the empty bag in your trash can.

Or the time you walked to the library and it started pouring. Sukuna didn't know until Gojo send a picture of you soaked in the passenger seat. You then stood dripping in the middle of Sukuna's dorm eyebrows furrowed from Gojo's commentary as he walked out the door.

"Why didn't you tell me to come get you, I wasn't busy."

"It's just a little rain." He walked up to you twisting the end of your hoodie letting the droplets hit the floor, forming a puddle. Sukuna clicked his tounge, "Right a little rain."

He was annoyingly persistent, you tried to argue back saying you could go to your dorm and shower yourself. Forgetting he is 10x bigger than you he picked you up not letting you open the door until you no longer looked like a wet cat.

You blew out a breath swinging open the bathroom door, "Happy now?"

"Very."

You ended up getting sick a week after that, it was bad. So you skipped all your lectures. You went to the store earlier getting medicine, soup, and some snacks.

Your nose was stuffy, and your body was hot. Your legs ached so bad, you almost fell trying to cook the soup. You did end up falling and you just laid there on your side for a good hour.

Brooklyn 99 played on your TV, a dumb decision it hurt to laugh. Tissues surrounded your bed, some fell on the floor. You paused mid sniffle, hearing your door open. You quickly got up but the door was already open, revealing a 6'5 pink haired angry bird.

Sukuna stepped through the door way. His backpack and duffle bag swung over his shoulder, while carrying a couple of plastic bags. "You look like shit."

"How romantic."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling, "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

"It's not a big deal, really. I'll be fine by tomorrow."

"It is a big deal! Stop saying that."

"But—" Sukuna cut you off, "No, let me speak."

"You're gripping the table like if you don't you'll collapse, I had to find out from your professors that you were sick. They tracked me down at practice to give me notes, I didn't even know you missed!" He looked into the doorway of your bedroom, "It's tissues everywhere, your room is a fucking mess, and that pot of soup looks like it exploded, but it's 'not a big deal' ?"

You gnawed on your bottom lip, "I was handling it..."

He rubbed his eyes, sighing, "I want to be there for you. I want to be the first one you call when there's good or bad news. I want to nurse you when your sick. I want to pick you up after a long day in the library. I want to be there for you at all times."

"It's just always been me. I–I don't— I can't ask for too much out of you. You have a life too... I don't want to get in the way of that." Your words came out wobbly and shaky, but still you bit your tongue trying not say everything, you were okay. Or you'll be okay eventually but that's your battle not his.

But you failed, tears started spilling down your cheeks and you could barley catch your breath. Your grip on the table finally falters and your knees buckled. Instead of hitting the floor you were pulled into his chest hiccuping, "I-I just don't want to be a burden."

Sukuna was stilled for a moment then carefully wrapped his arms around you, it was the first time he's seen you cry. You melted into his embrace, your eyes clouding with another round. He didn't shush you or calm you down, he let you cry in his arms ready to be there in anyway you needed him to be.

──────────────────────────────────────

@kajismp3 | masterlist

because, you're denki's high school best friend.

best friend, like, best fucking friend. best friend like you made denki what he is today.

he took his first shot with you, smoked his first joint with you, bought his first vape with your fake id.

every morning, he'd meet you at the bus stop, share those cheap ass, shitty ass, earphones of his, with your playlist saved onto his phone, only half of it downloaded with the 200MB he had left, using your phone to check the homework updates that neither of you completed.

and then you'd get the homework answers off some random, and spend registration scribbling out absolute bullshit, because even if it's incorrect and illegible at least it was done, and you wouldn't be given detention.

because you guys couldn't get detention, not when you had rustled up twenty dollars between you, to buy cheap weed off some sketchy guy, and smoke in the park next to his house.

late nights on face-time during family holidays, dinner at his house almost three times a week, helping your dad fix something that was broken in the backyard.

your lives were so intertwined, that when you made-out for the first time, it didn't feel like a big deal.

because, of course your first kiss would be with denki, of course the first guy to see you naked would be denki, of course the first guy to dry hump you on some random girl’s couch, would be denki.

so natural, so not-a-big-deal, so normal.

and then he left for college.

you knew it would happen at some point, that he would leave, that he would get tired of having to hide himself, quiet himself, tone himself down, in your small conservative little town, fucking duh. right?

and he told you he was going to leave, you were there when he applied for the university. and you were there, right fucking next to him, jumping for joy, when he got accepted.

doesn't mean it didn't hurt.

doesn't mean you didn't feel it in your chest.

despite the fact that you were doing your own thing, living your own life, becoming your own person.

it doesn't mean that every time you get a notification from him, an update about his new friend group, or something dumb that happened on a night out, or he comes back for a weekend, and he has a new piercing or tattoo or a different hairstyle, that you don't miss him so fucking much.

that doesn't mean that he doesn't miss you too.

every time he makes a joke that doesn't land, or references a meme from five years ago, or wants to go to a gig, or talk bullshit, or get high and go grocery shopping, he sighs to himself.

because no one really gets him like you do. no one sees him like you do.

you’re his person, his everything.

he had to invite you to come and see the city eventually, it took a while for your schedules to align for sure, but you got there in the end.

got here.

and denki's late.

you're late too if we're being honest. you missed the transfer, and had to wait for 45 minutes for the next train, enough time to leave the station for a smoke, fall asleep on the train, and nearly miss your stop.

but you're here now.

outside this big, loud, city station, suddenly feeling conscious of how you must definitely reek of weed, tapping your foot on the cracked concrete, lent up against the metal railing, idly scrolling on your phone.

travel bag full, headphones on, you don't even realise someone is calling your name till—

“—holy shit dude, are you that fucking deaf?” a sun-kissed hand waving in front of your face, “haven’t changed a bit—”

he cuts himself off to borderline tackle you into a hug, you nearly drop your phone, his warm body heat enveloping your system. arms wrapped tightly around your waist, he still smells the same, so do you.

you barely notice how he takes a deep inhale when he noses at the junction of your neck.

it’s so fucking weird to have you here, but in the best way. it feels like a dream, you feel like a dream, all disgruntled and weary from the journey.

“you gonna take her bag or what?”

oh right.

denki’s head stays where it is, nestled into your shoulder. the only move he makes is to stick a finger up from behind his back, but your gaze snaps up, meeting with the owner of the voice.

dark eyes meet yours, half-lidded, grin creeping onto his face, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, a few paces back from where you’re embracing the blonde.

“hey—”

“oh, fuck off, man,” denki still hasn’t let go, you feel his voice rumble through your skin, “don’t even talk t’er.”

“relax,” you say grabbing the back of his hair and pulling him off you, he lets out a small whimper, minuscule really, but you know him, yank a bit harder, voice dropping to a whisper, “don’t you dare.”

but denki doesn’t budge, he hums almost dreamily, “don’t talk to me like that, y’know it’s been a while.” with his arms squeezing you tighter, practically melting into your chest.

“free show for the general public, i knew you were freaked out but seriously dude—”

that does the job, denki finally unwinds his limbs from you to turn and scoff at his friend, talking about some, “you can’t let me have a moment,” and then turns back without waiting for answer, grabbing your travel bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

“not if i’m uninvolved,” the other guy scoffs out, hands in his back pockets, and he smirks down at the blonde who’s marched over to give him a light shove in the chest.

denki snatches the lit cigarette from his friend’s mouth, with a mocking sneer, and pops it into his own.

“‘uninvolved’ that’s not even a real word,” the words curl around the smoke as he waves you over.

“maybe you should read a fuckin’ book.”

“maybe you should shut your fuckin’ mouth,” he clears his throat, then dramatically flourishes to the guy standing next to him, whom you vaguely recognise. from blurry snaps, from instagram stories, from half of his figure in face-times, the one, the only, “hanta sero.”

he smirks at the introduction, something you reckon he does a lot of, and nods at you in greeting, “i’m surprised you’re a real person, i was almost sure this shit-head was making you up.”

your smile is strained because of the sunlight glaring right in your eye line, but your tone is warm, if not a little dry, when you reply with, “talks ‘bout me a lot, does he?”

“you don’t know the half of it—” denki shoves him forward, and sero laughs, bright and loud, let’s the momentum carry him into a step, which turns into another, and another, and then denki takes your hand to pull you along with them, as you make your way down the street, away from the station’s exit, back to their place.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

“finally.”

denki huffs as he flops onto his bed with a groan, it creaks and shifts when you drop down next to him, his legs intertwining with yours like second nature.

and denki’s smelling you again. it’s less weird than it sounds, but still weird. it’s not his fault, you smell like sunshine and home, how could he not, nose buried into the top of your head, arms curled around your body.

you both lay like that for a minute, content in the silence, just basking in each other’s presence. electricity buzzing under your fingertips as he softly grazes his knuckles against your back.

until you decide to be a little bitch.

“your friend’s cute,” you murmur into his chest, you can feel denki’s heart pitter-pattering, vibrating through your body.

he doesn’t say anything for a beat.

you crack open an eye, try again, “i said, your friend is hot—”

he doesn’t give you the reaction you’d hoped for, which is a shame. instead he chuckles, snickers, softly against your hair, still tracing patterns into your skin, “you really gonna talk about another guy while you’re in my bed, no class.”

“take that back asshole,” and he catches your hand when you move to hit him, brings a thumb down to curl around your wrist, rolls his eyes as you squint up at him, “no class?” you repeat, “i’m so classy, so fuckin’ classy i brought my own bud—”

yeaaahhh, that wakes him up.

and because it's denki, because he has no manners, or boundaries, or concept of personal space, both his hands start sliding down your body until they feel the bulge in one of your back pockets.

you squirm out of his grip, feebly kicking at his legs, but he's so solid. you can feel his muffled snickers as you smack his arms away from you, but he barely moves, just presses you further into the mess of pillows and blankets that cover his bedspread.

“you're such an asshole,” but your shoulders shake with the uncontrollable laughter that tumbles out of your body when he starts trying to curl his fingers into the pocket.

you get a face full of armpit. “and you smell so fuckin’ bad, couldn't even take a shower before inviting me over here—”

he kisses his teeth at your insult, but doesn't flinch when your heel catches his shin, just lightly slaps your thigh to get you to chill the fuck out, because his bed-frame is cheap and creaking like it might collapse any second.

"dude," as he sits back on his knees and sticks out his tongue in victory, shiny foil package dangling between his fingertips, "the water pressure here sucks balls, i promise you, i tried my best."

you kick at him again when he starts to open it, and the baggy drops from his grip. you snatch it up before he gets a moment to breathe, and point a finger at him in warning, “nah-ah-ah. say please.”

he collapses on top of you again, bullshit doe-eyed expression, and juts out his bottom lip as he simpers, “oh please, my perfect princess,” you don't budge, “oh, please, dear goddess, let us roll a zoot.”

“well, seeing as you’ve always been a loyal subject.”

“you’re such a fucking dork.”

“me? me? i’m a dork?" you repeat back to him, voice wavering in astonishment, “the first thing you did when you moved in here was put up that zelda poster,” and you gesture to the aforementioned poster, corners peeling, plastered onto his wall next to the window, “and you wanna talk about dorks.”

“well if i'm a dork and you’re a dork,” he says, and with his face so close to your own, you can practically count the freckles matted across his cheeks. and that annoying little smile, so unchanging despite the time you've spent apart, despite the distance. "what does that make us?”

he answers for you, not before his eyes flick down to your lips as his tongue pokes out to wet his, “it makes us perfectly compatible.”

your eyes roll and you shove his face back with the palm of your hand, “you're a fucking loser.”

his hands crawling over your thighs, “yeah, what else?”

“a freak.”

his eyes boring into your soul, “keep going.”

“pathetic.”

his breath ghosting over your ear, “nearly there."

“and,” your hand suddenly stretches out, and denki keens when you take a fistful of his hair into your grasp, his body folds inwards towards you as you pull him closer, gently grazing your teeth across his earlobe while he shudders and you murmur, “i don’t fuck with blondes.”

unserious to a fault, denki breaks down into snickers, nuzzling his nose against your neck. it would’ve been believable, if not for the fact that, “y’know i can feel your lil’ boner pressing against my stomach.”

that makes him chuckle even harder into your neck. “guilty,” sarcastically muttered, and then denki cranes his head so he’s at the perfect angle to lick your cheek.

you groan in disgust and push his face away, but that doesn’t stop him, and you get his slobber all over your palms.

“get the fuck off me, i swear to—” he covers your mouth with his palm and continues to lick your face like a demented cat, what the fuck? “is this what the city life does to people?”

“no,” he whines suddenly, interlocking his fingers with yours against either side of your head, “i-i just missed you.”

oh.

you didn’t expect him to say it outright.

there’s been an annoying, awful, nagging, voice that has been whispering in the depths of your brain ever since he left. whispering that he stopped caring about you, that you were just a placeholder until he got cooler, funnier, friends, that you were nothing but an insignificant speck in the long, vibrant, life he was going to live.

denki’s warm, honey, eyes scan your face.

he’s frowning, and, well, denki should never be frowning.

you shake his hand off one of your wrists and he sits back immediately. no longer breaching your personal space, a brief look of hurt flashing through his eyes as you say nothing.

but then, your free hand reaches up, and your thumb, very carefully, very gently, smooths out the wrinkle that has appeared between his brows.

“i missed you too.”

the corners of his mouth uplift, his eyes shine, god, it's like the sunlight breaking through the dawn, the way denki's face contorts into a smile, “you really know how to make a guy sweat, baby.”

you snort, “oh, you're sweating now?”

“amongst other things, yeah.”

"amongst?" you repeat, eyes squinting in the way they do when you're about to take this piss, “is that a new vocab word?”

you’re trying to ragebait, but it doesn’t work.

because denki can't stop smiling.

there's just something so fucking dreamy about how you're here, in his college house, on his horrible twin xl bed. it's really hard to describe the feeling, because, sure, he's seen you, during holidays, on face-time and the like, but it's different having you in the city with him.

with him.

as in, not only did you trek all the way here, three fuckin' buses, two trains, all your essentials packed, with the sole intention of spending time with him.

but you missed him too?

that notion, that suggestion, that you thought about him nearly a fraction as much as he thought about you.

it makes him dizzy.

"you really like being mean to me, don'tcha?" and he can't keep his hands off of you, his fingers tracing patterns along your sides.

"i think you like it more than i do."

"you can't prove that."

that makes you laugh, genuinely, because, it's like, do you mention the hard-on that is throbbing against your thigh, again, or do you let him live in his delusion? questions, questions.

or…

the secret third option.

bringing your hand down, and cupping his erection through the material that covers his bottom half. using your nails to scratch at the seam that is straining with his hard cock, and watching his breath hitch, his brow furrow, his eyelids flutter.

"you're playing dirty," denki whines, as if that could hide the guttural moan that literally comes from the depths of his spirit.

you lean up towards him so you can mouth at patch of skin where his ear meets his neck, and you murmur into his ear, "i think you like it when i play dirty."

“well, i think,” as he traces your pulse points with his nose, “that you only have one voice line option," and then with his teeth, like the most least obvious vampire, "where's the variety?"

"don't be a dick."

"thought you liked my dick."

"i like your mouth more."

"oh yeah," he turns his head, kisses along your jawline, softly, like you’re something delicate, something he has to hold very carefully, something that he couldn't afford to break, something he wants to take his time with.

it makes your heart race, being loved on like that, you needed it to be honest. someone that knows you intimately, someone that knows exactly what you want.

you shrug his hand off you, from where one of his palms still had a firm grip on your wrist, so you can grab his chin, bring his face closer to yours, your breath intermingling.

and the next time he opens his mouth to make a smart comment, you stop him before he can even start.

by grasping his tongue with two of your fingers.

you know him as much as he knows you.

and you absolutely could not miss the shudder that wracks his body, or the way his eyes practically roll back into his head.

you have to tut at him until he stops trying to wrap the pink textured tip of his tongue around your digits.

so you have the space, to spit in his mouth.

oh wow.

there are not enough words to describe the pathetic mess denki makes out of himself at that moment.

i won't bother attempting to walk you through it.

but sero can.

denki's bedroom door slams open, hanta sero, giving no prelude before making his entrance, "are we still gonna go out tonighhh…"

now imagine this, your best friend, practically on his knees, on top his best friend, literally eating out of the palm of her hand, with both of his hands underneath her shirt.

sero grins.

and carelessly swats away the pillow that comes flying at his face.

the three of you just kinda blink at each other for a minute.

before sero turns on his heel and walks right back out.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

“this is the best spot in the entirety of the old town, i'm telling you.”

“you said the same thing about the bar by the river—”

“—and about that arcade on the high-street.”

“anddddd, when we found the spot along the bridge with the benches.”

"that, that, that, that,” denki slurs, well stutters, a step behind you, “that doesn't diminish my point.”

you can’t see him but you hear the sound of him smacking sero when he mocks the blonde with a, “uh-ba-ba-ba-ba-da-ba-dah."

"shut up, just shusshh,” oh god, he really is licked, you can’t take him seriously, “i'm trying to show my beloved friend–in fact, you guys are even proving my point.”

"and what is your point exactly."

"well... that old town has all the best spots."

they all hum in agreement.

all being, the rest of denki's new friend group.

honestly, they're a cool bunch.

the girls are fucking lovely, stunning, nice as hell, like surprisingly. not that you thought his friends would be dickheads, but still, it's refreshing to be around.

almost as refreshing as the cool night air.

the sunset a while ago, while you were still pre-gaming at this one girl's flat, mina. she's a fucking legend. super hospitable, one of those people who never let's anyone sit out of conversation, a little prying but not enough to make you uncomfortable.

but she mixes drinks like a demon.

sero had warned you.

after denki had, ahem, had a shower and cleaned himself up, the three of you made your way over to mina's together.

but, denki was on the phone the whole time. one of the guys was having a crisis and apparently, it was very, super, extremely, important, so he had left sero to entertain you on the twenty minute walk over.

this sero guy is something else.

there's something very telling about the way he talks, like he's constantly trying to sus you out, but in the least discrete way he can. his questions are really leading, and it doesn't matter how you answer, it feels like you've fallen into a trap.

it doesn't help that he's fucking sexy.

with the piercings, the way his hair falls into his face, and that ridiculous sleeve of line-drawn patchwork tattoos, that denki seems intent on copying.

but his smile gets you the most.

this annoying, slick, grin that he gets when you say something a bit too sarcastic, or a bit too rude, or a bit too risky, and he visibly bites his tongue while he cheeses, flashing his pearly whites, all half-lidded eyes and barely concealed snickers.

fuck denki for leaving you to your own devices.

you'd been walking side by side with the dude, bare arms brushing, up until you got to the front steps of mina's flat, and even then, denki had disappeared almost instantly, leaving you with this guy, again.

and sero had not left you alone, maybe denki had told him to keep an eye on you or something, but you can't deny it, the attention was addicting. fetching you drinks when you asked, lighting your blunt for you, letting you smoke his cigs with nothing but a shake of his head and another one of those confusing, biting, grins.

aside from that, the rest of denki's friends had been great.

aside from the drinks.

sero, and the other girl, jirou, had fuckin’ warned you, that mina enjoys playing bartender, and that she takes her job very seriously. you had waved them off at the time, because honestly, two blunts deep, the glass you had tasted like fuckin' juice. really sweet, really orange, and apparently chock full of tequila.

which leads us to now, a large gaggle of about seven undergrads, arguing, then bursting into cackles, then tripping over their own feet, then arguing again, stumbling along the high street.

one dude, the guy that was having a "major crisis sorry for stealing him," is on your right, recounting the lore of their last night out, the group of 'em, getting lost on the way home, missing the last train, no ubers picking up the request, and having to walk back to the student housing, two hours away from where the gig was.

"and then, and then, that's not even the worst part," kirishima nearly hits you in the face when he gestures towards the other blonde of the group. he pats you gently on the shoulder in apology, but the volume level of his voice does not lower in the slightest when he says, "this dude, this fuckin' dude, ran off, like literally, sprinted into the distance, and left us."

jirou, who is to your left, chokes on her snort, pulls on your arm, calling your attention back to her, "all of our phones were dead, mind you."

"don't start talkin’ shit," the blonde in front of you suddenly cuts in, he's been quiet most of the night, aside from the occasional jeer, "i left you with the portable charger, i'm not a fuckin' asshole."

kirishima buffers, and then cries out, "dude, you left us. stranded."

"y'all made it home, didn't ya?"

"that is sosososo not the point."

the girls burst into snickers again, you are included in the hyena laughter, and you take a deep breath.

the streets are not quiet. it’s late, but it’s still so busy. cars and buses whizzing past, laughter and music pouring in from every open bar door.

this place, this city, it’s no wonder denki wanted to move up here.

bright, loud, vibrant.

just like him.

speaking of…

there’s suddenly a horrific, wailing, screech, that echoes around the street. you spin your head, sero and denki, both two steps behind you. or… were?

sero’s standing, sorry, crouching, hands on his knees, in a fit of cackles, coughing and spluttering. and denki, poor, sweet, denki, rushing back over to the group from where, you’re guessing, he was pushed into the road.

“stop fuckin’ around,” the blonde, scary, one bellows out at the both of them, to which they suddenly stand up straight, like well trained military dogs, “i’m not goin’ to a&e again for you schmucks.”

ah, that kicks off the idiots, “whadidhesayyy?”

“schmuck.” —and they both burst into another fit of boisterous cackles.

“are they always like this…?”

“yup.”

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

“mhmm, mhmmm that’s it baby, shiiiiit.”

denki’s always had this weird obsession with the way you smell. it’s not that you smell bad, usually you smell really fucking good, you have a… what’s the word… routine.

you have a routine. he’s seen you, watched you, even earlier tonight, he was sat on his bed ready to go, half scrolling, half watching you lather lotion across your limbs, practically drooling at the sight of your doughy thighs glistening with body butter.

and he thought that was the end. but then you pulled out your body oil, oh okay, which is actually very different to body lotion… apparently? and then, you’re done— oh, wait, no, now you have, uh, body spray? okay now you’re definitely finish– perfume oil? how many oils does one person need?

he can admit, the routine lasts, it does the job, he can get hints of it now, this close to you, whiffs of jasmine, and vanilla, and whatever that yummy spicy smell is, but that’s not what he means.

he loves the smell of your skin, of your sweat, of your natural body odour, that’s what makes it weird.

like right now, you’re sat on the closed toilet seat, in the back of that bar, the supposed ‘best spot in old town,’ with your legs thrown over denki’s shoulders, and him, on his knees before you, taking turns between viciously eating your pussy, and taking deep inhales of your cunt. he can’t help himself, there’s something addictive about you, pretty pink lips suckling on your clit, tongue lolling out to lick fat stripes across your sloppy, gummy, entrance, and his eyes rolling at you scent.

fuck, it’s “so good,” he dazedly mutters, nose buried into your bush, “sosososo so goooood mama holy fu-uck.”

your foot digs itself into his shoulder blade, as the vibrations of his drunken praise send shivers up your spine, “you’re so fucking nasty.”

“mmmm, i know, i know,” he does know, but he also doesn’t care, how could he, your fingers gripping his hair, your nails scratching at his scalp, your clit throbbing between his lips.

he takes a moment to very carefully trace his teeth along your pulsing bud, that makes you jolt, and hiss at him through your teeth, and clamp your thighs around his head, just like he wanted.

fffuck, he’s dizzy.

denki was already decently faded, but the smell of your pussy is even more intoxicating then any liquor, and so much sweeter, your juices just spilling into his mouth, so fucking delicious, oh lord.

“denks’, denki, denki, s’too much, fucking relax—”

you always get mean when you’re close, like your body doesn’t allow itself to experience pleasure without a negative output.

good thing denki likes it, right.

“shiiiiiit,” he gasps, between, disgustingly wet slobbers, his tongue prodding at your sensitive, stimulated, walls, “you gonna squirt in my mouth?” your mushy, gummy, pussy, just oozing with slick, all for him to gobble up, “oh, shit, please, pleasepleaseplease—”

and you cum with a hand burying his face into your cunt, hectic rolls of your hips, quivering thighs. your jelly legs collapse around his shoulders, your body slack against the wall, just panting for a minute, chest rising and falling with your laboured breaths. denki looks stupidly proud of himself, with that smug grin gracing his shiny lips. your heel kicks out again to smack that ridiculous look off his face, but it literally does nothing to deform his starry-eyed face.

“well, shit,” you breathe out finally, your eyes, half-lidded, as you watch him stand up, and snort at the crack of his knees.

“s’that all you got t’say?” denki snickers down at you while dusting the floor imprints off on jeans.

“what d’you want me to say?”

“oh, i dunno,” he fake contemplates, and then, in a stupidly high pitched tone that sounds absolutely nothing like you, goes “thank you, big dick daddy denki for eatin’ my pussy— OW FUCK.”

your foot, again, saying hello to his shin.

“who the fuck is calling you big dick daddy denki, you fucking loser?”

“ehhhh you’d be surprised.”

you’re about to say something else, maybe comment on how there’s a little wet patch on the crotch of his jeans, when a loud thump at the stall door interrupts your train of thought.

and, of course, no shame kaminari goes, “yellooo?” in the fucking most ridiculous, you’ve used ridiculous to describe him many a time but there really isn’t a better word, voice you’ve ever heard from a guy who was literally on his knees, seconds prior.

but, who’s voice is coming from the other side of the door?

“you’ve got all my smokes in y’er pocket, shitface.”

and you watch denki check, then pull a face, because he does have all sero’s smoke in his pocket, “oopsie, we’ll be right out!”

“we?”

and again, no-shame kaminari, just hits the latch on the door, and swings it open, while you’re still sat on the fucking toilet, recovering, and he’s still got your remnants smeared all over his mouth.

“stop fuckin’ disappearin….”

sero’s dark lazy eyes scan his friend, his glossy mouth, his flattened hair, the stain on his jeans.

he raises an eyebrow very slowly, then calls out to you, whom he can not see, but still, he knows his friend, “we have to stop meeting like this.”

“what did i say?” denki practically whines, “don’t fucking talk t’er.” and shoves his friend in the chest to make him back away from where he was leaning against the doorframe.

“what the fuck is your problem today,” sero sighs, not moving an inch, instead crossing one arm over the other and sneering down at his friend, “one minute it’s don’t talk to her, the next it’s please stay with her? what— i don’t even know what you’re thinking half the time.”

this is so fucking awkward, you wanna say something, or get up at least, but you also think, maybe, if you don’t move a muscle, they’ll both forget you’re there.

“unless…” sero pauses, the tip of his tongue peeking out, as he releases another one of those, vicious biting grins, “i know exactly what you’re thinking ‘bout.”

“you don’t know shit.”

“oh really?” he snarks back at denki, who is shaking with… you can’t even tell, and you’ve known denki for a long time, agitation? maybe?

until.

denki decides to make the very poor choice of turning his head, only slightly, to look back at you.

and it’s written all over his face.

because he's flushed, with something that is not the embarrassment of being caught eating pussy in a public restroom. in fact, he’s bitten his lips raw, his pupils are blown, and his eyes are formed into an expression you know very well.

you’re not stupid.

and this time you do want to say something, but you don’t even have the time to formulate the sentence in your head because denki pushes sero out of the stall with one hand, the other hand firm against the door frame, obscuring any vision of you from the outside, and says to you, “can you… uh… give us a minute? we’ll meet you outside—”

and then he’s gone. not by his own will, but because a tanned, flexed hand, has reached out, gripped his t-shirt and pulled him away.

the two guys stumble their way outside, through the bathroom and the purple lit bar interior, with sticky carpeted floors, and overwhelming chatter. there's no 'sorry’s' or 'excuse me’s' as they push past the intoxicated crowd with their elbows out, just denki spluttering the whole time.

“you are so— you’re such a— i can’t even—”

“then don’t,” sero breathes against his neck, as he pushes the blonde against the wall of the deserted alleyway. before his lips attach, grow teeth, and sink deep into denki’s skin, just below a mark that, sero assumes, you had left.

“so fucking needy, ain’t ya?” as he nibbles across the blonde’s pulse points, and curves his palm so he can cup denki’s straining erection. “s’kinda embarrassing if you ask me.”

“good thing no one was asking,” denki replies with his own fingers tracing along sero’s waistband.

sero groans at the tease, bucking his hips up into the sensation, “m’just saying, if you wanna ask her, ask her.”

this is like, the worst place possible to have this conversation.

it’s nearly 2am, the rest of the group is still inside, getting up to some bullshit like they always do, like denki has spent most of his college career doing. except he can’t participate properly, not this time, not when he has the self-proclaimed 'biggest moral dilemma of the century' looming over his head.

sero sighs, giving up on trying to undo denki’s belt, and rutting forward against his friend so both their crotches meet in this delicious tingle of friction, “i can hear you thinking y’know.”

“what if,” denki cuts himself off with a groan, and a roll of his hips, the cold brick wall doing nothing to soothe his feverish skin, “what if she thinks it’s weird?”

“why the— shit, that’s good— why the hell would she think it’s weird?”

his nails dig into sero’s shoulders at a particularly forceful thrust that has his head reeling, and his body whining, “’cos what do i even say like, hey i want you and my other-bestfriend-slash-roommate-slash-guy-i’m-currently-fucking-with to share me?”

“is that it?”

denki stills at the sound of your voice.

he tilts his head left and, you’re lent against the other side of the wall, half a joint hanging out of the corner of your mouth, patting your pockets down in search of a lighter.

sero, cheeses again, you roll your eyes at the sight of it, but hum in thanks when tosses a zippo your way. the sound of the spark wheel is like a honing signal, and sero release the tight grip he had on denki, who now crumples against the wall in embarrassment, to get a hit from you.

you inhale deeply, the end flaring up a bright cherry red, illuminating the bored look on your face in the dark alley.

you exhale in silence, pass the joint to sero, and make your way over to denki.

“dude,” you say softly, leaning your shoulder against the blonde, “you know you can ask me anything.”

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

“now what do you say?”

denki’s bed frame sounds like it’s gonna break, for real this time. it’s creaking and rattling like it only has seconds left to live before it collapse in on itself and takes the three of you down with it.

your pussy won’t let go, denki thinks he might actually die, with the way your walls are pulsing around his dribbling cock, practically milking him.

it wouldn’t be a bad way to go, the crease where your stomach meets your thighs and the sight of your jiggling tits will follow him into the afterlife. along with the way your hips tortuously grind down on him, and the unforgettable sensation of your pussy bubbling around the base of his cock, coating him in a juicy shine of slick, leaving that creamy ring stained forever into his memory.

“s-s-sorry?” he gasps out with laboured breaths, his chest caving, his heart feels like it’s gonna fall out of his throat from how fast it’s beating.

“hmmm, sorry for what?” you don’t give him a moment to think, sucking the soul out of his dick, you see his eyes rolls back into his head, dreamy, dopey, pussy drunk smile glazing his face.

“for–for being weird about it?” he finally croaks out when you slow at his silence.

you share a look with sero across denki’s shaking shoulders, from where he’s pistoling his cock into the blonde’s ass.

he sends you a smile, it forms slowly, beginning with a small grin, eventually spreading across his face, his lips stretching and curving, his teeth biting, with that same smirk in his eyes.

“and,” sero murmurs into his ears as his hands find purchase in denki’s hair, a mean grip that has the blonde carolling into your sweat slicked chest, the stimulus making his mind hazy, “you can ask for anything.”

denki’s head lolls, the sight of him, disoriented with pleasure, has you involuntarily clenching, which send him into another spiral, and leaving sloppy marks over any part of your body he can reach.

“say it.”

“i can—” denki groans against your skin, absolutely fucked out, his fingers bruising your hips with his grip, “holy fuck— i can a-ask for anything.”

"good boy," your voice is like honey in his ears, trickling sexual syrup right through his nervous system. the praise makes denki throb inside of you, you can feel it, the pulse, and you send it right back, rudely clenching down on him again, making him jerk his hips back in agony, right back into sero's cock.

it's disgusting, so fucking filthy, the room reeks of weed and your combined bodily fluids, his mattress is probably soaked in your sweat, and in denki's drool.

it's agonisingly good though, the near constant push and pull of three bodies.

denki feels like he's about to black out, and he keeps pathetically humping into both you and sero like that's gonna keep him from disaster.

his head tilts to suck on your tits, and you use his shoulder for leverage, so you can bounce on his properly, the motion sending him backwards into sero's hard chest, "denki, baby, you gonna cum for us?"

he gurgles in reply, too sex drunk to string any coherent thoughts together, just pleasure, pleasure, and more pleasure, his kiss-bitten body trembling, all your grunts and moans poured into his ears like fucking music.

"denki, denki, denki—"

god, he's gonna cum, he can feel it building, the two of you aren't far behind if the pick up in pace is anything to go by.

he can feel, fuck, hot under his veins, ecstasy thrumming through his body, it's never felt this good, he might die.

"denki—"

he's so fucking close, so close, oh god, everything, this long ass day, the constant tease from the both of you, and he finally gets to have this—

"DENKI!"

"huh, huh, what?"

his head flops back down into the pillow, the sunlight streaming through the open blinds is hurting his eyes, and god, his head is fucking pounding. his tongue slips out to wet his dry lips, fully content in going back to sleep, back to that fucking dream, anything to get away from the horrible light he can't seem to escape.

oh nevermind, he can't go back to sleep, not with his excrutiating morning wood, leaking pre all inside his boxers. he ruts down against the suprisingly smooth mattress beneath him with a satisfied groan, and another sleep filled sigh.

"dude are you serious?" an equally sleep stricken voice calls out from next to him.

oops. turns out his soft, smooth, mattress was his best-friends thigh.

denki's eyes flutter open weakly, and sero stares back at him, his dark hair a mess, his limbs stretched out across the bed.

"are you gonna stop that or what?" sero drawls back, voice hoarse with disuse, he raises a tatted arm to cover his eyes, and curses the morning under his breath.

the blonde's hips are still moving on auto pilot, relentlessly chasing a pleasure he can only imagine, until sero swats at him to stop.

hands rubbing his face, denki turns back around with a deep yawn, then starts feeling under the blankets for his vape.

"aren't we," sero yawns uncontrollably mid sentence, so hard tears start forming in his waterline, "uhh, aren't we supposed to go meet your friend at the station in a few?"

they can't stop the yawns now, denki stretches out his back as another one rips out, "s'too early man, s'way too early."

the blonde sits up against the headboard, smacking his dry lips for a minute, then says:

"dude, i just had the craziest dream."

taglist my asshole im so sorry im like dead on the inside lowkey

Gojo knew you hated the nicknames he called you and yet he refused to stop. You even had to discipline him once when he called you “love”, going a few days without speaking to him though you’re still not sure if that hurt him more or you, what with your high sex drive.

“Mmm.” He presses his forehead to yours and quickly pecks your lips, his hard-on pressing against your thigh through his shorts. “Now it’s my turn.”

His mouth dropped to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave you yet another hickey you’d have to explain to your friends who were under the impression you weren’t seeing anyone since you dropped your last guy. 

You barely had time to process it before he was moving his head back up and kissing you again, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue. You sunk into it, arms wrapping around his neck and forgetting once again about your little no kissing rule. His hands roamed your body, squeezing your tits, pinching your nipples, before sliding down to grip your ass.

Gojo grinds his hard length into you and you moan into his mouth, your pussy clenching and begging for more. 

Just as he was about to take his shirt off, a knock came from the door and made you both freeze, your eyes widening in a panic. Fuck, if anyone knew Gojo was in here you’d never hear the end of it.

"Oi!" Shoko's voice echoed through the hallway and it sent your pulse racing. "Open up! I forgot my key again!"

“Closet, now.” You practically hiss, pushing him off of you so you can stand and dress yourself. You were bouncing around the room, jumping into your pajama shorts and shoving Gojo toward the closet, your heart in your ass because the last thing you needed was your friend finding out you had been screwing her friend that you claimed to hate.. 

Of course, being the insufferable man that he was, Gojo simply took it as a joke and tried to kiss you as you opened the door and pushed him into the closet full of yours and Shoko’s clothes. You pushed his face away with a nasty glare, your cheeks flushed and thighs sticky with your release and his spit. 

"You’re seriously gonna stuff me in a clos-"

You shoved him back and slammed the door in his face.

"Coming!" You quickly press down your shirt and smooth out your shorts and hair before moving to open the door for your roommate, praying she wouldn’t notice your messy hair and flushed cheeks and put two and two together. 

Most of all you hoped Gojo would keep his fucking mouth shut. Bringing him here had been a terrible idea but he was already on campus when you texted him and you were horny now and didn't want to drive back to his place. 

When you finally open the door, Shoko is standing on the other side with her hands on her hips and her eyebrows scrunched together. You smile awkwardly and pull the door further open so she can pass through. 

“Sorry. Left my keys in the psych building.” 

You clear your throat and smile, closing the door and following her further into the room while pretending like vomit wasn't rising in your throat and your heart wasn’t trying to escape your ribcage. 

"What were you doing anyways?" Shoko asks, pushing past you with suspicion written on her face. "I was standing out there for like three minutes."

"Sorry, I was.." You paused, willing your voice to not sound so high pitched, pulling your rising shirt down. "I was in the bathroom."

It’s obvious she doesn’t believe you with the way she’s looking at you, studying your face and looking you up and down and you want to die. How embarrassing would it be to get caught with Gojo of all people after complaining about his existence since freshman year? 

“Hm, you look flushed.” 

“Yeah, just.. uhm- I just was working out” 

Shoko rolls her eyes and starts to look around her side of the room, giving you a second to look at the closet and make sure Gojo didn't decide that he did in fact hate you after all and expose himself. 

The door was still closed. At this rate you would be the one to expose yourself by panicking over nothing. 

“Were you masturbating?”

Your friend's words have you snapping your head toward her, hair flying in your burning face. No Shoko, I wasn’t masturbating. My enemy just gave me a mind shattering orgasm on his tongue alone and would have done it again if you didn’t interrupt. Any more questions?

Is what you wanted to say, but instead you swallow your annoyance and stick with: ‘No, what makes you ask that?” 

"Your face is basically glowing, your hair's messed up, and you took forever to open the door." Shoko shrugged. "I'm just saying, if you were, there's nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone does it. I do it. It's healthy."

Then, for a reason you’d never understand, Gojo decided that now was the best time to laugh. It was low, barely audible but loud enough to make Shoko look toward it with scrunched eyebrows. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck! You were going to kill that six foot idiot. What the fuck was he thinking? You were a shaky, sweating mess when your friend turned to look at you, her eyes burning holes through your face. 

“What was that?”

“What was what?” 

She gestures wildly with her arms and nods past you, obviously annoyed at your decision to play dumb. “The noise from the closet! Do you have someone over?” 

“I-” You swallow hard, fingers digging into your nails as you try to find a way out of this. 

You obviously weren’t going to tell her it was Gojo, but if you did tell her you were hiding someone then she’d never stop trying to figure out who it was. It would be a nightmare and you would have to be twenty times more careful with Gojo or cut off your arrangement before you were able to find a replacement. 

Either way, you were fucked.

“Yes.” You huff out, hoping she doesn’t push further and ask who it is but before she can respond, you’re speaking again in an attempt to distract her. "How was the library? Did you finish your paper?" 

Shoko stared at the closet for a few more seconds then decided it wasn't worth investigating. She, thankfully, had never really been a noisy girl and you were grateful that she was your roommate instead of Yuki who would have ripped the door open herself.

"Almost. I need another hour, but I forgot my charger and my laptop's at six percent."

When she finally left, you stomped your way to the closet and yanked it open. You were beyond seething, ears on fire from embarrassment and annoyed that you had to tell Shoko you were in fact seeing someone when you wanted this to be left in the dark.

Gojo was wedged between clothes and a shoe rack, his hair slightly disheveled, grinning like a fucking idiot. You wanted to kill him.

“That was close.” He grabs your hip and walks you backwards, trying to kiss at your neck but you’re having any of it, placing your hands at his chest and shoving. 

“What?” Gojo frowns at you and gives you his best puppy eyes but it only makes you want to hit him more. You cross your arms to stop yourself, head tilted back so you can look up at him.  

“It was ‘close’ because of you! I told you to be quiet and you couldn’t even do that. I should end this right here since you’re apparently a child.”

That wiped the smirk off his face and he was stepping closer, grabbing onto your arm to pull you forward and you let him this time. His hands find your waist again and rub circles on your exposed skin, your body shivering in response. 

“It won’t happen again, I promise.” He lets his fingers creep under your shirt, moving higher. “Now where were we?”

“Nowhere. We’re done.” 

“Oh come on. I’m literally in pain, don’t leave me with blue balls, princess.” He pulls you flush against his chest but you push back, ignoring every instinct telling you that one quickie wouldn’t hurt.

“No Gojo. I have to work in an hour. I need to shower, eat and get across campus, we’re done here. Go home and figure it out.” 

He pouts but you’ve seen enough, leaving him to figure it out as you move toward the bathroom and close the door behind you. You were still pissed at him but even more mad at yourself for still wanting him to fuck you after he almost blew your cover to Shoko. You didn’t really have work today but a cold shower and time to yourself was needed. 

“I’ll pay you double whatever your job would.” His voice comes from behind the door, clearly not ready to give up.

Your hand stopped above the shower knob, turning to face the door in disbelief. "What?"

"Your job, sweetheart. Whatever you'd make tonight, times it by two, or three, whatever you want. Just call out and let me stay a little longer."

"Are you serious right now?” You blink, a mix of frustration and amusement coursing through you. “I'm not a prostitute, Gojo."

He doesn’t respond for a minute and just when you think he’s gone, he opens his mouth again. "You're not. I'm just saying your time is worth something, and I'm offering to compensate you for it."

You actually laugh at that, leaning your head against the bathroom door and fighting the urge to scream. "That is literally what a prostitute is."

"Semantics, it's also what a consultant is."

You open the door, deadpanning the too tall frat president, and point to the front entrance.

"Get. Out."

Later that day Gojo was sitting at some shitty bar with his friends, trying to drown out his emotions that were determined to consume him whole. 

The same thought has been nagging him for the past two weeks. It wasn’t something he admitted to anyone outside of you, but he had been thinking of leaving his fraternity. Would his father be happy? Probably not. Did Gojo care? Not anymore. He hadn’t even intended on getting into a frat until his father told him he had already signed up on his first day. 

Now here he was, a senior, making his own money as an employee of his family business and desperately trying to find a way out of this without blowing up his life. He never wanted to be president but it was another thing that was expected of him so he did it with a forced smile and he never regretted anything more in his life.

Before you came along, Gojo could get any girl he wanted. He never had to work hard to get laid, never cared for relationships either until you humbled him in front of his frat brothers and he just knew he had to have you. 

He tried to win your favor over the next two years but when you weren’t avoiding him, you were reminding him just how much you hate frat boys and that he wasn’t your type. So imagine his surprise when you agreed to his proposal of enemies with benefits, though he truthfully had never hated you.

Gojo was trying to be better. Hosting less parties and letting Sukuna and the others take over more, drinking only once or twice a week, focusing more on school work to impress you and even wearing his glasses more and dressing in those nerdy clothes he knew you liked. 

People questioned his new sense of style, his friends grew concerned over his lack of involvement and Gojo grew more desperate with each rejection from you. He just needed one date to show you that he can be the guy you deserved, why couldn’t you see the effort he’d been putting in? 

While it was obvious you didn’t hate him like you used to, he still was miles away from becoming your friend let alone your boyfriend. Most people would have taken a hint by now, but Satoru Gojo was not most people. He only grew more motivated, determined to show you that he was worthy of being loved back.

“You look miserable."

Gojo looks up from his drink to find Suguru staring at him over the rim of his drink, his dark eyes searching for answers that he wasn’t willing to give. If Gojo told anyone about your relationship, he’d be violating your trust and he was sure he’d lose you forever. He wasn’t going to do that to satisfy his friend's curiosity. 

So he simply shrugs and takes another shot, trying to wipe the image of your smile from his head. 

“Fuck off.” Gojo picks up a new glass and tries to take a shot but Sukuna snatches it before he can and stretches his arm to keep it away, not at all bothered by the death glare his friend gave him. 

“He’s been a pussy since he caught feelings for someone he knows hates him.” He tosses it back.

What? You never said he couldn’t tell people he liked you. 

“Drink piss, you overgrown carebear. She doesn’t hate me.” While he knew it wasn’t completely the truth, he let himself live in his delusions. What was the saying? Fake it until you make it. He was simply manifesting your future together.

“Maybe I should shoot my shot, she’s nice enough to me.” 

Suguru’s words have Gojo instantly fuming, snapping his head in his friend's direction and wondering if his smug smile is how you view him when he’s teasing you. 

“The fuck? You’d actually do that?"

Suguru simply shrugs, unfazed. "Why not? If she’s into me, then you know she’s not into you and you can move on. If she’s not? Well, then it turns out we’re both losers." He took a slow sip, eyes never leaving Gojo’s face. "Might even be fun to see how desperate you get. How about a little friendly competition, huh Satoru?”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, biting his tongue to stop himself from something he’d regret. Something close to: Doubt she’d even look at you when she’s too busy bouncing on my dick.

The thought of Suguru, with his stupidly perfect smile and raven hair the girls loved, making a move on you made his stomach twist. He knew his friend could pull it off. Half the girls on campus already had a crush on him and you weren’t really his girlfriend, you could do whatever you wanted.

But Gojo was never one to back down, holding Suguru’s gaze and shrugging. He would just have to work harder, spend more time with you because there was no way in hell he was going to let anyone else, let alone his childhood friend, have you.

“Why did you join a frat anyways?” 

You asked Gojo, looking up from your laptop and across the table. Gojo was wearing his glasses again and you had to keep squeezing your thighs together. That’s not what you were here for. You both had decided to get in a quick study session before the first game of the season, where he'd be playing and you’d be cheering. 

It’s been some weeks since you started your arrangement and in that time, you’d been fucking almost everyday and spending most nights at his place under the guise that it was easier studying wise.

“Wasn’t by choice, princess.” His jaw clenched, hand squeezing around the pencil he had been holding, knuckles turning white from the force. 

You wanted to laugh at that but you had never seen Gojo show true anger before and figured now wasn’t the best time for that. You still weren’t going to let up though. 

“How is that not your choice?” You shift in your chair, ignoring the way his eyes are gazing into yours so softly, even though he was clearly annoyed at your question.

Gojo sighs, dropping the pencil and sitting back in the chair, letting it spin side to side as he stares at you with a titled head. “Generations of my male family members have attended Theta Phi, my dad kinda signed me up without my knowledge.” 

You frown, biting the inside of your cheek when his leg rises and he brushes his foot against the inside of your thigh. Your body buzzes with the way he laughs at your glare, reaching down to swap it away. 

“How can he even do that? Couldn’t you just.. I don't know, not go?” 

Gojo laughs again but it’s more bitter this time, rotten with parental issues you probably shouldn’t get into considering you had your own and discussing your personal lives wasn’t a part of your agreement.

“Now who sounds privileged?” 

You give him a straight face, foot lightly kicking at him and rolling your eyes when he grins.

“I’m being serious. My mom wanted me to do gymnastics on a professional level and I had no interest so I just didn’t do it. She eventually got over it.” You shrug.

Well your mom wasn’t completely over it but that wasn’t your business. You made your own discussions and what others felt about them was on them. You’d barely talked to her since you broke the news to her freshman year and your father had died when you were a child so you really only had your sister, with the occasional birthday or holiday text from your mom. 

“Not that easy in the Gojo dynasty.” He emphasizes the last word and you can tell by his sneer just how much he hates his family,

“I told him I wasn't doing it. Told him of my dream to become a physics professor and he laughed in my face and threatened to not pay my tuition if I didn’t join.” 

He pauses, closing his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again.

“My family is filthy rich but you don’t get anything for free. You have to prove that you're worthy of a college inheritance, a spot in the wills, and a position in the family business. My father told me if I didn’t join the frat then I’d only have a spot in the will after college. Didn’t want to graduate with loans so I played along.”

You blinked, the heart that most people claim you don’t have, suddenly aching for Gojo. You hadn’t considered that his family might be a bunch of money hoarding psychopaths but you guessed it made sense with their status. 

You never had to worry about your mother paying your tuition, she couldn’t afford it anyways. You survived off of a scholarship and your own income from jobs you worked since you were sixteen. The only thing you had to do was keep your grades up and not be reckless with your money. 

You were suddenly grateful to have grown up on the poorer side, because you couldn’t imagine having someone dangle money over your head. Let alone your own parents.

“Physics? Didn’t peg you as the type.” You lean forward and smile softly, elbows on the table with your hands folded in front of you.

He mimics you, eyes brightening and seeming grateful you were changing to topic.

“What? The glasses and secret nerdy clothes didn’t give me away?” His foot plays with yours and you let it, biting back a moan when you think about how his glasses fog up when he fucks you with them on, messy white hair falling in his face.

You had noticed the different physics books lying about his room but never really thought much about it. You couldn’t understand how a parent could treat their child like an investment and not an actual human. With his family money, Gojo could have been one of those students that chased their dreams instead of fortune and actually been happy.

While you still thought he was arrogant and still hated fratboys, this opened a new side of him to you. A side you could empathize with. 

“Seriously though Gojo, I'm sorry your family is so shit.”

He leans an elbow on the table, placing his chin in palm and giving you the dreamiest smile, lashes brushing together when he blinks slowly. “Aw, you feel bad for me, princess?”

“No.” Your cheeks burn and you sit back in your chair. Of course he’d ruin this, you were never being nice to him again! “Merely pointing out a fact.” 

He pouts and stands. “Well now I'm sad. How about you make me feel better?”

When he pulls you from your seat, you let him, heart racing because this would be the second time this week that Gojo has fucked in you in this very study room, libarians oblivious to the shenanigans the two horny college students were up to. 

He grabs your chin while you place your hands on his chest, steadying yourself as he pulls you close. When he leans down to kiss you, you turn your head but he goes straight for your neck. He’s sucking and biting, and you’re hardly trying to shove him off, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your heated skin. 

“We have to- mmm, we have to be quick Toru. You have a game and I have to cheer for it, remember?”

He spins you toward the table, pushing you forward and waiting for you to brace yourself. thump! thump! thump! Your heart is going a mile a minute as you dig your hands into the desk, biting your lip when he reaches forward and unbuttons your pants, slowly pulling them down to your feet. 

When he rises, you can feel his breath blowing on the back of your calves.. higher to your thighs.. Just beneath your ass and he’s leaving a kiss there, fingers coming up to rub your pussy through your panties. 

You suck in a sharp breath and he licks a long strip from your clit to your hole, not bothering to move the fabric. 

“Did you know,” He starts, pressing two fingers to your clit and rubbing, holding your leg tight to keep you still. “psychology says that the more you hate someone, the more you fixate on them and that it can turn into passion.”

You bite your lip, moving your hips back for more friction and growing annoyed when he holds you dead still, lightly tapping at your thigh as a warning. These were the only moments you’d ever bite your tongue, because while you loved to dom him, you loved for him to dominate you more. 

"Do you love me yet, sweetheart?"

“Fuck you, S-satoru.” 

He laughs, kissing your ass before standing up, the sound of him digging through his pockets and ripping open the condom sending chills through your body.

Gojo pushes his boxers down and slides the condom onto his cock with ease, holding onto your ass and taking a moment to breathe because the sight of you was almost too good to be true. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. You’re so fucking soaked for me, you want me to fuck you now?” 

You push your hips against him, the warmth of his girthy cock rubbing against your ass. “Fucking obviously.”

"Ask nicely." He’s back to his teasing voice and you want to rip your hair out. It’s been a day since you had sex and you needed him desperately, even if you’d never tell him that.

"Gojo." You groan, fingers burning from how hard they dug into the wooden table.

"That's not nice." He leans over your back, grabbing your chin and turning you to face him. "Try again."

You grabbed his wrist and dug your nails in. "If you don't fuck me in the next thirty seconds, I'm going home."

Gojo laughs out a “That’s my girl.” and kisses you quickly before pulling back up. 

He moves your panties out of the way and pushes inside in one smooth motion. You gasp, spine arching when he pushes it down, pulling you further back onto his cock. He was thick, stretching you open so perfectly, your walls gripping around him possessively.  

Gojo sets a brutal pace from the start, his hips slamming against your ass with each thrust. The table creaked beneath you, and somewhere in the back of your mind you worried about someone hearing, but the thought was distant, drowned out by the pleasure building low in your belly.

You cover your mouth with your hand, biting down onto your palm when he wraps your hair in his fist and pulls your head back, scalp burning from the sting of it. 

“This is what you needed, isn’t it?” His voice was strained, losing some of its usual cocky smoothness as lost himself in your cunt. "Acting like you’re too good for me, but your pussy tells a different story.”

You hate him, you really fucking do. You wanted to snap back at him, to say something cruel, but he angled his hips just right and hit that spot inside you that made you see stars. All that came out was a moan, loud and shameless in the quiet library.

He slows his hips just a little, yanking your body up against his. You glare at him but he doesn’t care, just grabs your jaw and squeezes until you move your hand. 

“You want the entire library to know how well you take my cock?” He asks, peering down at you and you once again, find yourself drifting in his eyes, pulse skipping beats from the way he looks at you. 

You can’t speak so you just shake your head no, licking your bottom lip and pushing your hips back against him. He leans down and kisses you, sucking your tongue into his mouth and moving his hand to rub your clit. 

“Then shut the fuck up, princess.” 

Gojo doesn’t give you the opportunity to respond before he’s slamming his hips back into yours, cock rubbing against your gummy walls and sending you spiraling. You were so close, inner walls clenching around him, your whole body trembling with the effort of holding back, waiting for him.

“Fucking pussy squeezing the life out of me, shit, gonna cum already, princess.”

Gojo never slows his pace, your lower body bumping into the table with each brutal thrust, his hand on your clit rubbing harsh circles. Tears seep from your eyes and you don’t see it but they fall from his too and straight into your hair, his free arm wrapping around body and pulling you close.

He leans his head down to your neck, sniffing deep and inhaling in your scent, mind spinning from your pheromones and his eyes rolling back. He squeezes you tight, the sound of his erratic breathing in your ear, clouding your senses, driving you fucking insane.

You hated to admit it but you loved when he was clingly like this, taking up your space while he fucked and prasied you. You often think of how different things could have been if he wasn’t who he was. 

After one hard thrust, your knees buckled and you fell forward, Gojo going down with you. Your cheek laid against the cold surface, and Gojo hovered over you, his chest against your back, his mouth next to your ear.

“You drive me crazy, fuck, just let me make you mine already. Please, baby. Give me a chance.”

You wheeze out a laugh and he shifts his angle, hitting something that made your toes curl inside your sneakers, and the laugh turned into a whimper that you muffled against your own arm.

Gojo noticed, because of course he did. He adjusted, angling his hips to hit that spot again, and again, and again, each thrust a deliberate press that made your vision blur. 

He looked at you and grounded low in his throat. Your eyes were half-closed, lips parted, cheeks flushed. He was claiming you in body and soul and you didn’t even realize it yet. The only trick was your stubborn mind, getting you to see that you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you. 

"Say you want this. Say you want me." He kisses you and looks you in the eyes as he fucks you, his own pleading.

You squeeze your eyes shut up, biting into your fist to keep quiet as your orgasm crept up on you. 

He made a sound of annoyance and slammed into you, your teeth greeting, nails leaving marks on the table that would surely tell anyone else what happened here. The orgasm that had been building crashed into you without warning, rolling through you in waves that made your thighs shake and your breath come in short, ragged gasps. 

You bit down on your own tongue to keep quiet and tasted salt and blood.

Gojo’s rhythm faltered, his grip on your hip tightening as he fucked you through it. Slower now, deeper, grinding his hips against your ass on every downstroke. You were still clenching around him when his breathing changed and his forehead dropped to your shoulder.

"Close," he huffed.

"Then finish."

He thrust three more times, balls squeezing as he groaned with each stroke, and then he buried himself deep and held still. His legs strained and shook as he drained himself inside of you, and you felt the pulse of his cock through the condom, felt the way his whole body tensed and then released. 

His breath was hot and uneven against your shoulder. He stayed there for a long moment, his weight pressing you into the table, both of you breathing hard.

You let him stay like that for a minute, the heat of his chest pressed against your back and your eyes fluttering closed as you came back down to earth. Something had changed this time and you couldn’t tell what it was but you felt it deep in your soul and it scared the fuck out of you.

Just when you were about to tell him to get off, he started to slowly pull out. 

You felt the warmth immediately, the wet cum against your thigh. You turned your head, looking down between your bodies, and saw it. The condom had fucking ripped at the top!

"Gojo."

He stood up and looked at you, expression going from satisfied to panicked in about half a second.

"What’s wrong?"

You point to his cock, hair matching his and sticking to your sweaty face. "That’s what’s wrong."

"Shit." He grabbed the condom off his half hard cock and held it up. It was still mostly intact, but the seal had in fact broken at the base. "Shit, I’m sorry. How much got in you?"

“Just get something I can clean myself with.” You fight the urge to curse him out, knowing it wasn’t really his fault. You trusted that Gojo was only sleeping with you and you were on birth control so that wasn’t an issue. But what exactly was the problem? 

Gojo pulls his pants and boxers back, moving around the table to grab a box of tissue at one of the desks and handing you a few. He watched as you wiped between your thighs, cum leaking from your pussy and the sight has his cock twitching in his jeans. Something possessive and nasty at the thought of you leaking with his seed while Suguru tried to steal you from him. 

“I’m on the pill, remember? Relax.” You notice his strained face and wrongly assume it’s because he’s having a pregnancy scare. You had no fucking idea. 

When you’re both decent enough, Gojo stops you before you leave out, hand on your arm as he stares down at you. You raise a brow, eyes wandering and fighting back a smile at the sight of your strawberry lipstick on the side of his mouth. Hot.

"Suguru asked about you.” 

You give a confused smile, wondering what that had to do with you. You like Suguru, you weren’t close but still friends. Why would he be asking Gojo about you? The thought made your stomach ache.

“Did he?”

Gojo looks like he’s trying to keep his annoyance in check, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Mhm, I think he likes you. Said he’s gonna try to make a move on you.” 

Your frown this time, even more confused than before. Sure, you thought he was cute that one time during freshman year but you never really thought much about him outside of the very few times you hung out with the girls. 

“I don't date frat boys."

"Right. You just sleep with them."

You can hear the malice in his voice and now you’re annoyed, not wanting anything to do with whatever rivalry he and Suguru had going on. You snatch your arm away from him and deadpan him, a storm quietly building in your chest.

“I sleep with you.” You correct him. “A serious lapse of judgement, not a fucking pattern. I’m not interested in your friend.”

Gojo scuffs, taking a step back with hurt in his eyes. “A lapse of judgement? That’s what we’re calling this?” 

“That’s exactly what we’re calling this.” You say with more venom than you mean to, annoyed that he was accusing you of something you hadn’t even done nor had any plans to. 

“Keep lying to yourself, (name). I won’t be around to watch it.” 

He pushes past you and you’re left confused on what the fuck just happened.

A week goes by without you seeing each other. Gojo doesn’t call or text, so you don’t either. 

You pretend that the anonymous flowers placed outside of your door aren’t from him, that the late night deliveries of beef bowls or your favorite sweets weren’t placed there by a certain 6’3 white haired frat president. 

He was mad at you for something you didn’t do and while you told yourself you didn’t care, you hated the permanent knot in your stomach. You had grown used to spending most of your nights at his place, asleep in his bed and waking up to him with his arms wrapped around you. 

You told yourself that you hated it, hated him, but the truth was you weren’t sure what you felt anymore. 

You didn’t love Gojo but you had learned to tolerate his presence, even felt your ice cold heart melting a bit around him. You told yourself that this was simply sex, but you had unknowingly found yourself finding comfort in his presence. So having your new norm snatched away from you made you feel sick. 

So what did you do? You ignored him.

You go back to using your toys to get off, even if it does nothing but leave you sexually frustrated once again. You work on your project alone and send him copies of your research notes through google drive, but that’s as far as communication between you two went.

You had never in your life begged a man to speak to you, to take you back and you weren’t going to start now. Gojo was a frat boy at the end of the day, maybe it was for the best that you cut things off. 

It’s better this way. 

"You look like shit," Shoko says, leaning against the doorframe of your shared bathroom with a mascara wand in one hand.

"Thanks," you muttered, not looking up from the sink.

You didn’t want to go out, would rather stay home and get ahead of school work but your friends wouldn’t hear it. They told you that you were too depressed and it was making them depressed and when you tried to argue, they literally pulled up texts to show the difference in the way you texted a week ago vs now. 

You didn’t deny that you were a bit drier than usual but blamed it on school and cheer stress, what will all the games going on. 

They didn’t believe it, which is why you found yourself fixing your hair and makeup, and squeezing into a body tight red dress. Girls night out at the club, dress your sluttiest! Yuki had said. 

"I'm serious. Are you sick? Are you dying? Should I call someone?"

"I'm not dying, Shoko."

She sighs and looks over at you but you don’t face her. Can’t face her. "Then what's wrong with you?"

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You turned off the faucet and dried your hands on the towel, avoiding eye contact because Shoko had this creepy way of reading people, and right now you did not want to be fucking read.

You were going to get pissy drunk and forget that you ever agreed to that stupid arrangement in the first place. 

You meet Yuki and Utahime at the club around eight, annoyed that your boobs keep spilling out of your top and the way men that were definitely married with children keep looking at you. 

It was at that moment that you realized when Gojo had been leaving you covered in hickeys, no one ever batted an eye at you and now that most had faded, heads were starting to turn again. 

It made you hate him more for doing this to you. Making you so fucking stupid. 

The club was packed, some DJ from out of town was performing (he wouldn’t stop saying it), and the bass was already rattling in your chest before you even got to your reserved booth. Yuki ordered a round of shots as soon as you sat, and Utahime was already scanning the room for cute guys. You could feel Shoko looking but tried your best to ignore her, skin tight with an annoying wave of anxiety. 

You had the sudden urge to throw up and were thankful when Yuki arrived with drinks, immediately grabbing a shot glass and tossing it back. 

Utahime leaned across the table, her purple hair falling in her face as she looked at you with concerned eyes that pissed you off. Everyone was treating you like a baby when you were fine! 

“Okay seriously, what’s going on? You look like you’re experiencing your first heartbreak.” 

You blink, feigning innocence with a forced smile. “What do you mean?”

"You've been weird lately," Yuki added, not even trying to be subtle about it because she never gave a fuck. "Like, mopey and it’s concerning but annoying."

You roll your eyes. They’re being dramatic as usual. Just because you hadn’t been fucked in seven days didn’t mean you were mopey. Sure, your pussy literally ached every day to be fucked but that you always took care of it, even if your sex drive only grew more and more. 

“I’m fine. I’m just tired from studying for midterms.” 

“Look.” Shoko cuts in, taking a shot and turning to face you better. She takes your hand in yours and you fight the urge to snatch it away. 

“I don’t know who that guy was, but it seemed like he really made you happy. Maybe reach out to him and try to fix things. I hate to see you down.” 

You scuff, lightly pulling your hand away and tasking another shot. “There is no other guy.”

“Really? So what about when I caught you hiding a guy in the closet like two weeks ago, that was a lie?”

Your face flushed at the memory but you swallow it and hide deep in your heart, veins jumping at the image of his face.

“Whoever he is,” Yuki continues. “you should have hot make up sex or whatever. You've been down since whatever happened, and life's too short to be miserable over a boy."

"Can you all just fuck off?” You snap, anger burning hot in your chest. “Seriously. I'm not down. I'm not miserable. There's no fucking guy."

None of the girls seem convinced but they drop the topic anyways and move onto how Yuki and Choso broke up. You take this time to collect yourself, blaming your outburst on not getting laid and not because you couldn’t stop thinking about the one person you “hated” most.

That’s when you looked up and saw him. Gojo walked in the front entrance like he owned it, Sukuna and Toji on his left and Suguru to his right. 

Your breath got stuck in your throat. He looked otherworldly, in a back shirt that clung tight to his chest and showed off his muscles that he usually kept hidden. His shades were covering his eyes, white hair tucked behind his ears and his jeans showed off that perfect thin waist you loved to hold onto whenever he fucked you missionary. 

Your heart dripped to your stomach when you got a closer look, because on Gojo's arm was a girl you didn’t recognize. 

She was pretty. Brunette, tall, wearing a bodycon dress that hugged every curve, and she was clinging to his bicep like it was a lifeline. Laughing at something he said, tilting her head in that flirty way that made you want to throw up right there.

But when you looked at Gojo, he looked miserable. His smile didn’t reach as high as you knew it could, his jaw was tight and his head kept turning to look elsewhere, as if he’d rather be anywhere but there. 

"Oh, great," Utahime muttered after following your line of sight. "The frat brigade."

They came over because that’s just your fucking luck. Sukuna spotted your booth first and steered the whole group in your direction, because Sukuna had zero boundaries and loved making people uncomfortable which is why you hated him maybe even more than you hated Gojo.

"Hey, ladies," Sukuna said with a grin that was all teeth, sitting next to Shoko. "Looking hot as fuck tonight."

"Looking like a felon, as always," Your roommate replied flatly, unamused.

Suguru laughed and slid into the booth next to Yuki. Toji grabbed a chair from a nearby table and flipped it around, straddling it. And Gojo..

Gojo sits directly across from you, the brunette settling beside him, still attached to his arm. You roll your eyes.

“Hey.” He says to no one in particular, even though you can see his eyes linger on yours through his shades and you feel your heart skipping literal beats. What the fuck was that about?

You look away, reaching for another drink and looking away, fingers trembling just slightly around the glass, eyes glancing at the dance floor. Fucking get it together.

You listen as Gojo introduces the girl, not caring to catch her name and just that she’s apparently a friend of a friend. You listen as everyone says hello, and give her a silent mode and strained smile. 

The conversation shifted naturally, Sukuna talking about the latest football game where they crushed the rival 4-1. You were there obviously, performed your cheer routine and pretended like Gojo wasn’t somewhere all hot and sweaty. It was a true test to your strength to not walk up to him that night.

"Gojo scored three of those goals," Suguru said, nodding to him. "Man of the match, again."

"Three goals," Toji repeated, stealing one of your shots and winking at you when you flip him off. "And he still looked like someone kicked his dog after the game."

The girl leaned into Gojo and whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was, it made him exhale through his nose, not quite a laugh but enough for your jealousy to creep to the surface. 

Something hot and ugly twisting in your chest. 

Fuck this! You weren't going to sit here act like some desperate whore when men literally beg at your feet for a chance to fuck you. Screw Gojo, there were plenty of fish in the sea and one was bound to match your freak.

You tossed back the shot that had been sitting in front of you, slammed the glass on the table hard enough to make everyone look at you, and stood up. You yanked down the hem of your dress and walked away without a word.

“Where are you going?” 

You heard Shoko yell after you but you ignored her, venom dripping from your pores with each step. It was time to remind yourself who you were, and that wasn’t some cock drunk slut who moped over a man she hated anyways. 

You pushed through the crowd until you reached the dance floor, where the music was loud enough to drown out your anger and started dancing 

Your hips moved in circles, arms raised above your head, eyes closed as the music flowed through you. The bass was like a second heartbeat and you let it take you somewhere else. To a place where you didn’t have to think about Gojo and his stupid fucking face or the fact that he shows up with a girl on his arm after not texting you for a week.

You felt a guy appear behind you, his hands on your waist as he started moving with you, pulling your back against his chest. You let him even though you felt nothing. No spark, no heat, literally nothing. Just unfamiliar hands on your body and the faint smell of cologne that wasn't the one you were used to.

You were doing it on purpose, you knew that. Dancing with a stranger because you wanted Gojo to see, for him to feel even a fraction of what you felt watching that girl cling to him. 

It took him about four minutes. You counted and smirked when he appeared in the crowd, leaning against a pole as he watched you with his glasses pushed up and malice in his eyes.

You lean into the guy more, letting his hands roam up your chest. Gojo smirks when he squeezes your boob, taking a sip of his drink and tilting his head. 

You're breathless, annoyed that he thinks this is a joke and grabs the man’s hand roughly, guiding it down your dress further and further, never breaking eye contact with the man you’re supposed to be forgetting about. 

When the stranger's hand is touching your bare thigh, Gojo breaks, passing his drink to someone and making his way through the crowd. 

 You hardly blink when a hand closes around your wrist and yanks away from the confused stranger with enough force that you stumble. Gojo keeps you upright even though his cheeks are clearly red from anger, glaring down at you like you insulted him.

“What the fuck are you doing? You some kind of whore now?” He leans down, voice tight and low against your ear. 

You yank your arm back and take a step back, chest heaving as you squared up to him. “How fucking dare you? You're not my boyfriend, Gojo. You don't get to drag me around like I'm your property."

He stared at you, those blue eyes sharp and frustrated. "You're right. I'm not your boyfriend. Because you won't let me be!"

You're quiet for a split second, nostrils flared and fists balled at your side, heat moving up your chest to your neck.

“Can we not do this here?”

He laughs, grabbing your arm and pulling you close again, towering over you and forcing you to tilt your head back to see him. 

“Why not? You were so brave a few seconds ago, let’s air our shit out right here. Don’t be embarrassed now, it’s beneath you.” 

"You have a new fuck buddy now," you say, crossing your arms and purposely pushing your boobs up. "So I don't see why any of this is your problem."

"She's not my fuck buddy. My friends set it up because they think I need to move on from you." He ran a hand through his white hair, messing it up. "Sukuna literally said I've been unbearable to live with since we stopped talking."

"Boo hoo." You lack any sympathy considering he’s the one that walked out on you. Fuck. Him.

"Will you stop being a bitch for five seconds?"

"Excuse me?"

He steps closer, evading your space to the point that you only smell him and his fuck ass cologne, nose greedily breathing it in. “You heard me.”

“You’re not my boyfriend because you’re not my type! Now fuck off and let me forget anything ever happened between us.” 

He laughed but it was hollow, lacking any true emotions. “But I’m your type when I’m inside of you.” 

Your face is a fucking furance, especially when you realize others are looking. Your mouth opens and closes, searching for some witty response but your mind draws a blink. This was humiliating. How did you go from a secret situationship to publicly yelling at each other because you were jealous of the other giving someone else attention? 

Your life was a fucking mess. 

“Fuck you Gojo.” 

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” He smirks and it’s hateful and lust, making your nipples harden underneath your bra.

Without thinking, you grab his shirt and pull his mouth against yours, kissing him hard enough that your teeth clack. It was angry and messy, and you bit his lower lip until he hissed, and his hands were on your hips and then your ass, pulling your chest flat against his. 

His tongue sweeps into your mouth as you moan and shamelessly grind against his leg, his hands guiding your hips back and forth. The music is blasting, your mind is on a different planet and you don’t notice the way your friends are looking from the booth in pure shock. 

When you gain some common sense and remember where you are, you pull away and look at Gojo with glassy eyes, relishing in the way his lips are red from your kisses. 

“Wanna fuck Toru?” 

When he nods yes, you're dragging him by his hand through the crowd and into the men's bathroom. 

There’s no words needed when the door closes, so you drop to your knees and start unblocking his belt and unzipping his pants. Gojo is clearly flustered, but helps you pull his pants and boxers down with shaking hands. 

He watches you with one hand braced on the wall and the other moving to grab your hair, lips parted as he breathed heavily. 

You stroke him a few times, thumb rubbing over the red tip and spreading the pre before taking him into your mouth without warning. Gojo curses under his breath, hips jerking forward, and you wrap one hand around the base while you work the rest with your tongue.

This was your first time going down on Gojo but no one would know with the way you easily take him, swallowing his cock until it’s down your throat.

You’re sloppy about it, letting salvia drip down your chin and onto your exposed chest, sucking his cock like a pornstar, your mouth making obscene wet noises. You suck hard, looking up at him through wet eyelashes and watching his face contort, jaw clenched and eyes dark. 

“Fuck,” He breathed, hands tightening in your hair and guiding you to suck faster. “Just like that.” 

You took him deeper, relaxing your throat and letting him control your movements. His hips start to move, slow thrust that make him hit the back of your throat and your eyes water. When you moan around he shudders and reaches a hand down to stroke your cheek.

"You're so good at this," he said, voice rough. "You're so good at pretending you don't want me, but look at you. My little cock obsessed slut."

You pull back just enough to run your tongue along the underside, from base to tip, and smirk when he makes a sound that’s almost a whimper. You take him back in, bobbing your head in a rhythm that matches the muffled bass from the club. 

“Haah, fuck!” You could feel him getting close, the way his thighs tensed, the way his breathing turned ragged.

"Wait, princess, fuck, I'm gonna-"

You don’t pull off. When he cums, you swallow all of it, throat working at his cock as he shoots hot ropes of thick cum into your mouth. His groan is wrecked, a raw sound torn from somewhere deep in his chest, and his fist slams against the wall as his knees threaten to buckle. You held him there, mouth sealed tight around him, until the last tremor faded and he was just a gasping, trembling mess. 

Then you let him slip free, wipe the spit and salt from your lips with the back of your hand, and tilt your face up to meet his stunned, glassy stare. If you knew how hot his moans were when getting his dick sucked, you would have done this sooner.

“Wanna get out here?” 

When you made it to Gojo’s place, you both wrestled each other’s clothes off and didn’t make it to his room before he was inside of you. He took you on the couch two times and once in the kitchen, bent over the sink as he fucked you hard and deep.

Now you were laid on your back on his bed, watching as he reached for another condom. Before you could stop yourself, you let your heart lead for once and called his name to stop him. 

“No condom this time.” 

He freezes, looking back down at the latex and back at you. “What?”

“Wanna feel you this time Toru, please?”

And he broke, tossing it and climbing back over your body and kissing from your tits back up to your face, stopping to lick inside of your mouth, his hard cock pressing against your entrance. He pauses, looking down at you with his white hair falling to the sides of his face, all sweaty from your previous sessions. 

“Say it again.” 

You smile and wrap your arms around his neck, pull him back down and nipping at his lip. “I want you Satoru, wanna feel you raw.”

He gives a shaky breath and without wasting any more time, pushes into you slowly, stopping every inch to savor your warmth around him. Feeling him bare inside of you made you gasp and claw at his shoulders, the new sensation of his pulsing cock making you feel lucid. 

He groaned against your neck, stilling once he was fully seated, letting you adjust to the new feeling as he fought the urge to bust a fat fucking nut.

"You feel so good," he said, voice cracking. "Fuck, you feel-"

"Move," you whisper, scratching down his back.

He started slowly, rolling his hips in deep, deliberate thrusts that hit every nerve ending you had. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he moaned your name against your collarbone.

This was different from every other time. Before, it had been fast and rough and detached on your end, two people using each other to blow off steam. This was something else entirely. He was looking at you, really looking at you, and there was so much emotion in his eyes that you felt tears prick at your own.

He licks them away, both hands reaching down to grab onto your ass so he can pound you harder.. faster, so fucking deep. He moves faster, and you meet him thrust for thrust, your bodies naturally finding a rhythm that has your heart lurching. 

The pressure built inside you and when that coil snapped and you came for the fourth time, you came hard, back arching off the bed, mouth open in a silent cry, clenching around him so tightly that he followed you over the edge with a groan that sounded like your name.

“Fuck-, I love you, sweetheart. Fucking love you so much.”

He buried himself deep, groaning loud and squeezing your ass hard enough to leave a print. His hips moved in circles as he emptied himself and you felt it, the warmth of him spilling into you, no barrier, nothing between you, and it was so intimate that you felt tears slip again. 

You let him hold you that night even though you don’t hold him back, mind stuck on the fact that Gojo loves you and now your relationship would never be the same. 

You woke up first that day and deeply regret it. 

The morning light was creeping in and your body was sore enough that you almost regretted riding him two more times after, letting him stuff you full until his balls were empty. Gojo was still asleep beside you, one arm thrown over his face, white hair a mess on the pillow. You slipped out of bed carefully, pulling on one of his oversized soccer jerseys that fell to your mid-thigh, and padded barefoot into the hallway.

You were snooping, just trying to use the bathroom when you noticed one of his draws were still open and a bunch of polaroids were spilling out. You told yourself you were just going to fix them so they wouldn’t get destroyed.

You pulled the draw open, heart lurching when the first one you saw was a photo of you. What the fuck..

It was from sophomore year, the one time you went bowling with your friends and had been forced to interact with Gojo. He had been taking photos but you never thought about it. It wasn’t creepy, just an off guard photo of you laughing at something and it made you sick. 

You started digging through the rest, ears burning when you found a few more of you off guard, some of you with the girls that he took. You looked so happy in all of them, Gojo’s photography style making it look like you were the center of his world. 

Your fingers trembled as you flipped through the polaroids, each one a moment you barely remembered. He'd seen you. Really seen you. And you spent two years hating him because he wore Greek letters on his chest and you built your whole personality around hating everything that stood for.

Your throat aches, eyes burn. You press your palm flat against the sink to steady yourself, knees weak and blood running cold.

When you grabbed a few photos and turned to confront him, Gojo was standing in the doorway. He was shirtless, sleep still in his eyes, and he looked from your face to the open drawer with an expression that could only be described as pure panic.

"How long?" You ask, holding up the photos. "Satoru, how long have you been taking pictures of me?"

❦ lisa's note: messy af tbh! one more part to go, lemme know what ya think :')

© art creds: gojouify

You had begrudgingly squeezed into a tight dress, letting Shoko fix your hair and makeup before she was dragging you out the door and into her car. 

When you guys pulled up outside of the sorority house, the scene before you was far from what a typical party looked like. The lights were mostly off except for a few rooms that were still lit and it was eerily quiet outside, no loud music or drunk college students dancing around the lawn.  

Shoko had assured you that it wouldn’t be as hectic as a frat party would but you hadn't expected it to be deader than your social life. You turn and glare at your friend in the driver's seat who looks just as confused as you do. 

What the fuck was this? You could have been in bed, doom scrolling through TikTok and here you were, dressed up for a party that apparently wasn’t even happening.   

“I’ll go check, give me a minute.” Shoko mummers, hitting her vape before jogging up to the front door.

Your leg anxiously bounces up and down while you wait, watching as she knocks and someone with purple hair opens the door a few seconds later. You can’t hear anything but the conversation seems heated and brief before your roommate is stomping back to the car, annoyance evident on her face. 

“The party is canceled. Someone got the flu and the entire sorority is sick.” 

You fight to hide your smile, not wanting to rub it in Shoko's face since she was already upset. As much as it sucks that someone was sick, you couldn’t deny that you were happy. You didn’t want to go out in the first place and now you could-

“Buut.” Shoko sings, eyes twinkling as she looks at you with that same smile from earlier. 

“There is another party happening like ten minutes away.”

“Great.” 

It was far from fucking great when you pulled up in front of what was obviously a fraternity. The white house was big enough that it was basically a mansion, it had a flag with greek letters flying and the amount of people out front alone made you sick, the music loud enough that you heard it from the opposite side of the street. 

You hadn’t signed up for this, you wanted no parts in it. 

“Absouletly not. Take me back.”

“Stop.” Shoko’s eyes were pleading, her bottom lip poking out. “We’re already here and you promised you’d be my wingman. Wingwoman. Whatever.”

“I didn't promise shit. You said we’d be going to a sorority party, not a frat!” Your cheeks heated in irrational anger, even though you knew it wasn’t her fault. 

She had no idea how much you despised fraternities but it didn’t mean you’d be going to one just because she was putting on her best puppy face, big brown eyes shining and silently begging for you to say yes. 

“One hour. If you still hate it, we leave. But you’re already here, might as well give it a chance.”

You look back toward the house, your stomach twisting and heart racing a little faster. You weighed the pros and cons. If you did agree to go, you'd probably end up drinking more than you should and wake up with a nasty hangover. You’d also be breaking your promise to yourself and your sister to never step foot in a fraternity. 

Maybe it was unfair that you let a handful of horror stories shape your perception of them but it wasn’t as if they came from nowhere. You had watched the news, seen the headlines. Hazing. Alcohol poisoning. Freshmen being pressured into doing things they probably never wanted to do. 

Your older sister had made sure you knew exactly what kind of places to avoid when you left for college, and frat houses had been at the very top of her list.

But then again, you had waited for this moment since you got your acceptance letter. To meet new people, make new memories outside of your shitty hometown and to truly experience college life.

You were nineteen. What was the harm in going to one party? You’d appease Shoko, confirm your thoughts that frats were terrible and never step foot in one again. 

One night couldn’t ruin your entire college experience. Right?

You sighed and let Shoko pull your hand until you were walking through the front door and the smell of stale booze, and musky body heat hit you, the music rattling the speakers. The living room had been stripped of anything breakable and replaced with white folding tables sticky with spilled drinks and red solo cups. 

A group of guys were playing beer pong, shouting as the ball flew too far and rolled under a couch. Further into the house, a girl was setting up a karaoke machine and slurring the lyrics to the Pitbull song that was playing, almost tumbling off the table. 

The scene made you itch, your feet already hurting from the heels you’d been forced to wear. You let Shoko guide you through the crowd anyways, scowling at the way a few shirtless guys eyed you like you were nothing more than a piece of candy. She led you toward the kitchen, hand wrapped tight around yours, where a group had gathered around the island counter. 

A tall guy with long black hair tied back noticed you first, grinning at Shoko and holy fuck he was hot.

“Shoko, I didn’t expect to see you here!” He raises his red solo cup in the air. “And you bought a friend.” 

“This is my roommate, (name).” Shoko tugs you forward until you’re standing by her side. “Be nice to her, will you? She’s already planning my funeral for bringing her here.”

He nods at you, tossing back the rest of his drink and your knees go weak because he had to be one of the hottest guys you’d ever seen in your life. 

“Geto Suguru but you can call me Suguru. Any friend of Shoko’s is a friend of mine.” He sticks his hand out and you wipe yours on your dress before reaching over the island and taking his into yours. 

“Nice to meet you.” You force a shaky smile, pulling your hand back. 

When you ask how they know each other, Suguru explains that they went to high school together but Shoko had decided to take a gap year and travel the country.

Shoko introduces you to the rest of her friend group. There was Choso, a guy with two ponytails and a scar across his nose. His girlfriend, Yuki, was nice enough even though you were sure she was flirting with you. Nanami, who seemed entirely too sweet to be there and next to him was the human incarnation of a golden retriever, Haibara. 

After introductions were over, they pulled you into a game of flip cup and you were surprisingly good at it. The satisfaction of slamming your cup down before Choso was enough to make you forget where you were, cheap booze loosening you up and allowing you to truly enjoy yourself. Even if some asshole kept bumping into your ass and forgetting to apologize. 

You even let Shoko and Yuki drag you to do karaoke, stupidly singing Promiscuous and moving your hips in circles, hair loose and falling into your flushed face. You hadn’t noticed the way Suguru watched you with a smirk, arms crossed while someone whispered something in his ear. 

It only took an hour for you to be reminded that frats were in fact the root of all evil, your short lived fantasy that maybe you were wrong crashing down when he decided to show up.

You felt him before you saw him, your skin tingling as you sat on the couch and nursed a headache while actively fighting the urge to throw up, half listening to the group's conversation. You had just been about to tap Shoko and invoke your one-hour rule when the energy in the room shifted. The sea of people were parting to make way for someone, a few petrified freshmen scrambling to get out of the way. 

When enough people cleared, two of the most unique looking men you’d ever seen came into view. 

Now let’s get one thing straight: you were far from a pick me, never had been and you never would be. However, even you weren’t immune to the rare moment of being so mesmerized by the beauty of a man that you just stare with your mouth slightly agape. 

One of them had pink hair and tattoos covering his face and massive arms. He was kind of scary looking but in the hottest way possible. It was a shame he already had someone on his arm. Then there was the guy next to him, with a backwards hat that white hair slipped out of and eyes so blue they looked fake.

Your brain short-circuited for exactly half a second. Fuck. He was in fact the hottest man you’d ever seen, forget what you said earlier. Objectively. Scientifically, whatever. It wasn’t even a matter of opinion, just facts.

He was lean and tall with the face of a god, a pointy nose and full lips and you had to squeeze your thighs together when he looked in your direction, though his eyes weren’t on you. 

Shoko notices you staring and smirks. “Oh right. I forgot you haven’t met Gojo yet!”

“What?” You finally blink, glaring at your friend. “I wasn’t-”

“Satoru!” Shoko waved him over. “Come here, I want you to meet someone.”

Gojo locked eyes with her and smiled, leaning to whisper something to the man he had walked in with and handing him the case of beer he was carrying before moving toward the couch you were currently gripping. 

He was even more handsome up close, the smell of his cinnamon cologne cutting through the stench of sweaty bodies and alcohol. It was too bad he had to open his mouth and ruin everything. 

“Shoko.” His voice vibrates through you more than the music does, and it makes you feel pathetic. Since when have you ever let a man affect you like this? “Making new friends already?”

“This is my roommate,” Shoko says, gesturing toward you and tells him your name. “Play nice.”

When he turned those big blue eyes on you, your breath got caught in your throat, his smile widening as he held out his hand. “Well hello there. I’m Satoru, sophomore and president of this fine establishment.” 

Sophomore and president of an entire frat? You didn’t want to think of what kind of douchebag he had to have been to pull that off. You reluctantly shake his hand and pull it away faster than you did Suguru’s, your mouth growing sour. 

“You’re a quiet one.” He plops down on the couch between you and Shoko and you feel your irritation growing, your headache picking back up, mood completely ruined just from a few words. “It’s the hair, right? Or the eyes? Most people say the eyes. I get it, I’m a lot to process.”

He throws an arm on the couch behind you, leaning back and spreading his legs just wide enough to piss you the fuck off. Fuck this guy! 

“Wow,” You say flatly, moving from under his arm and turning to face him. “Do you practice being insufferable, or does it just come naturally?”

Shoko snorts into her cup while Suguru who had been sitting next to her lets out a “oh shit” under his breath. This was his and Satoru’s second year here and he had never heard anyone snap at his friend. 

Gojo’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it grew as he leaned into your space. “Naturally. It’s a gift, but I’m sensing some hostility, sweetheart. Are you not enjoying yourself? I’m sure I can show you a better time upstairs.”

You wanted to throttle him. So this is what your sister was trying to warn you about? What a fucking idiot you were to doubt her for even a second.

“I’d rather eat glass then let you touch me.”

He simply laughs at that, moving a little closer and forcing you to awkwardly lean back, heat creeping up your neck and to your ears. He was close enough to kiss you and you were about to smack him until he smiled and moved to stand up. 

“Nice to meet you, freshman. Maybe I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He disappears into the crowd and you want the floor to swallow you whole. You try to stay for the sake of your friend but each passing minute proves why you’d never show your face at these parties again. 

People were passing out from how drunk they were, someone had almost thrown up on your shoes and to top it all off, loud cheers were sounding from the backyard. You were about to tell Shoko it was time to go when she started running toward the back door to see what was going on and you reluctantly followed. 

The sight made your blood boil. Standing side by side was Gojo and the pink haired guy from earlier who you’d learn was Sukuna. There was a third guy with them, tall with broad shoulders, dark messy hair and a scar on his lip. 

A line of freshmen boys stood at the edge of the pool, each looking paler than the last. Sukuna was barking out orders and you watched in horror as they began to take off their shirts and then their shoes and pants. 

People were laughing, clapping and yelling for them to take off their underwear. You glared at the guy who said that, but he just shrugged and turned back to the show. Several phones appeared in the air despite Gojo’s threats that anyone caught recording would have them smashed.

This was so fucking sick. 

The poor guys looked like they wanted the ground to swallow them whole and just when you moved to put an end to this, an arm reached out to stop you. You snapped your head up, ready to lay into the person until a familiar set of dark eyes stared down at you. 

Suguru. 

“Get off of me.” You say through gritted teeth, pure anger making your heart beat faster and your blood pump harder.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” He warns you and you suddenly hate him as much as his prick of a friend, snatching away from him and turning back to the scene unfolding. 

Without an ounce of sympathy, Gojo clapped his hands together and nodded to the freshmen, his shorts hanging loose on his hips. 

"No need to be nervous. We've all got the same equipment!”

"If you're too embarrassed to strip," The scarred lip dude shouts over the cheering crowd. "you're probably too soft to wear our letters anyway."

A little motivating glare from Sukuna who looked even less interested in preserving anyone's dignity and they were stripping off the remainder of their clothes. You stared in absolute disbelief as the first pledge squeezed his eyes shut, signaled something that looked like a prayer and canonballed into the pool completely naked. 

One by one the others followed and you started to push through the crowd of students, ignoring Shoko yelling your name and evading Suguru’s attempt to grab you again.

Any microscopic chance you'd had of warming up to fraternities evaporated on the spot. These people were insane, fucking psychopaths and deserved a taste of their own medicine. 

By the time you reached the pool, the pledges were climbing out of the water, shivering and red-faced as older fraternity members tossed towels in their direction. They looked humiliated, their smiles not fooling you for a second.

“Hey asshole!” You shout toward the white haired douchebag, storming up to him and gaining the attention of the crowd who started to quiet down to listen to the spectacle you were creating. 

Good. Let them watch!

Gojo, who had been in the middle of laughing at something Sukuna said, looked at you and the grin spreading across his face only further annoyed you. He was so fucking hot but his personality sucked!

“Couch girl!” 

You ignore him, walking until you were close enough to stick your arm out and push his chest. He hardly moved but it was enough to knock that stupid smug smirk off his face for a split second before the corner of his mouth was lifting again. 

"What kind of pathetic excuse for leadership is this?" You gestured toward the soaking pledges who did their best to cover themselves with their small towels as they exchanged nervous glances. "Making them strip in front of half the campus because you think it's funny?"

“It was voluntary.” Sukuna spat, folding his arms and scowling at you, but you kept your eyes on Gojo who steps a little close to you.

“Oh please. Do you really expect me to believe a bunch of freshmen are gonna tell the people deciding if they get into this fraternity or not, ‘no’?” 

When someone in the crowd yelled that you had a point, Sukuna shot them a glare from the deepest pits of hell that had them shutting up and cowering back into the crowd. 

Meanwhile Gojo looked thoroughly entertained, that bastard. Not a hint of embarrassment on his face as he reaches forward and twirls a piece of your hair around his finger. His carefree attitude catches you off guard and you’re dumb founded, losing yourself in his big blue eyes before snapping out of it and pushing him away again. 

“You’ve known me for what..” He pulls his hand away and looks at the imaginary watch on his wrist. “Two hours and you’re already lecturing me? We're basically an old married couple already.” 

Your eye twitches. You hadn’t really thought of how he would react but amusement was the furthest thing you’d expect from someone getting scolded like an insolent child. 

You take a step back, not missing the way he eyes your body and your skin crawls.

“Fuck you dude! I wouldn’t let someone like you touch me with a ten foot pole, let alone let you marry me.”

He tilts his head as the crowd snickers and you grow impossibly hotter. You can feel Shoko pulling your arm but your feet are glued to the ground. It would take an act of god to get you to move before you were done saying what you had to say.

“Aww don’t be shy now. You’re making me feel self conscious too.” 

The words get under your skin more than you should have let them and the look on his face, the slight glint in his eyes tells you that he knows it. Before you can rip into him, the scarred lip dude butts in, pushing between the two of you. 

“Cute." He rolls his eyes. "Now either kiss or kill each other somewhere else. We've got pledges to traumatize."

You glare over his shoulder at Gojo one more time, seething at the way he winks at you, clearly finding this entire thing entertaining, before letting Shoko pull you away this time. If you saw him fifty years down the line it would still be too soon! 

You had to get an uber since you and Shoko were both too tipsy to drive and you outright declined Suguru’s offer to drop you off, having had your fix of frat boys for the next century. 

You rested your temple against the cool glass of the car window, nursing the dull ache forming behind your eyes while your stomach churned from the cheap vodka and lingering irritation.

Gojo Satoru.

Just thinking of his name made your jaw tighten.

He wasn't the first arrogant person you’d met. You’d known plenty in high school, cocky guys who were captains of some team or were blessed with a nice jawline and thought the world revolved around them. 

Gojo surpassed all of them. 

He wasn’t just cocky, but the kind of person that took everything as a joke, constantly performing and acting as if everyone around him was just a part of one big act. And the worst part about it, the part you refused to let yourself think of for more than a second because fuck that, was that he had no business looking the way he did.

It was almost offensive that someone as infuriating as him had a face that made you want to forget every sin he committed. 

You would just have to try your best to stay far away from him, steer clear of frat houses, frat parties, and anywhere someone like him might possibly show up.

Later that night you and Shoko are both wide awake, laying in the dark listening to the faint sounds of the occasional car or ambulance flying by. You’re still fuming, your earlier encounter making it hard for you to find sleep. 

“Hey Sho?”

“Yes?” 

“If you ever invite me to anything that asshole is at again, I’ll kill you both.”

“Noted.”

That was the day you grew to hate Satoru Gojo and the day he fell in love with you.

Now here you were. Your junior year came faster than you thought it would. 

In the time since you started at Jujutsu University, you joined the cheer team, made the dean’s list multiple times and built a tight knit friend group that consisted of you, Shoko, Utahime, Yuki and occasionally Suguru. 

Best of all, you had mostly stuck to your promise and kept away from Gojo, with the exception of a few incidents during your sophomore year when he had decided that you would be his new target of interest. It didn’t matter that you made your disdain for him clear, he never really gave up on his desperate attempts to win you over. 

One of the most memorable times was when you picked up Shoko from an invite only party and he answered the door. He was grinning, telling you that he knew you couldn’t resist him and lifting his black shades to his head, blue eyes flashing. 

"This is my favorite plot twist so far."

You bit your tongue and rolled your eyes, telling him you were here for Shoko only but nothing you said would get through that massive inflated head of his. 

“You were invited by the way. Why didn't you come?”  He actually frowns and you fight the urge to pinch yourself because he genuinely looks like a kicked puppy and you hate the way it tugs on your heart for a split second before you remember who you’re talking to.

“Because your last party fucking sucked.”

His ticking jaw and flared nostrils were your only signs that you had finally gotten to him before he was covering it up, licking his lips and looking down at your glossed ones with a grin. 

“Oh so you’re one of those girls.” He clicks his tongue, giving a dramatic shake of his head.

“Excuse me?” You cross your arms, chest already growing tight with irritation. This was supposed to be a quick pick up and somehow you ended up stuck talking to the one person you wanted to avoid.

“You know.. a judgmental stuck up bitch.” 

You had smiled, pride swelling in your chest because yes.. that’s exactly what you were and you hoped that now he’d take a fucking hint and leave you alone. If you were a little meaner maybe you’d scare him away for good. 

“That’s one way to put it.”

“You’re so evil.” He leans against the door frame, lowering his shades back to his face. “It’s hot, you’re just my type of girl, sweets.” 

The first week of your junior year had gone great, you hadn’t seen Gojo once which was a blessing in disguise since as you would later find out, you were both majoring in psychology. Your first day of cheer practice was coming up, you and Shoko were still sharing a dorm in your third year, your professors were all amazing and you managed to score an interview for a research internship next summer. 

Everything had been going in your favor.

It felt like you were on top of the world until the white haired devil himself walked into the lecture hall, dressed in a snapback, faded jeans and a football jersey. He looked out of place. Suguru was by his side as they looked for a seat and your heart was pounding as you snapped your head forward so fast it was painful, not wanting him to feel you staring. 

You sunk into your seat and dipped your head.

No, no, no! What the fuck was he doing here? Did he get lost? There was no way someone like Satoru Gojo would actually be taking a psychology class without being forced into it. Suguru, maybe. Satoru? He belonged in someone's business class, maybe engineering.

There was simply no universe in which he voluntarily enrolled in social psychology. 

But it didn’t matter what you thought, because he was here and you could hear him getting closer to you, his voice sending sparks down your spine. Just when you thought you were going to get lucky, the sound of a chair scraping beside you made your stomach flip. 

Painfully, you turned your head just as Gojo plopped down onto the seat to your right, his cologne invading your senses. Suguru apologized as he squeezed into the thin space to slip past you, taking the seat to your left. 

What a genius you were, picking a spot with two free seats on either side of you. 

Fantastic. Now you were trapped and Gojo only nodded at you when you glared at him, clearly fighting a smile as he leaned back in his seat as if he’d won a battle in this silent war you’d been in for two years. 

This was fine. You’d just ignore him like you always did. He thrived off of attention, so you would simply deprive him of it. 

Easy enough right? That’s what you thought until he opened his mouth and you remembered just how easily he got under your skin. How good he was at provoking a reaction out of you and it didn’t help that he looked hot as fuck with his skin slightly tanned from summer break, arms and chest a little bigger. 

“Would you look at that? Looks like we’re classmates now, princess.”

You tried to ignore him, really you did but whenever he was around you simply lost all sense of rationality, ten brain cells dying with every word that came out of his mouth.

“Don’t call me that.” You keep your eyes forward, trying to listen to the professor who was going over what you’d be covering this week. 

“Noted, princess.”

Surprisingly, you make it through most of class without Gojo bothering you. He only looks your way once but quickly turns his head when you catch him eyeing your exposed legs and pull your skirt down, his cheek dusted a light pink. 

You ignore the way you feel your ears burning from the attention, a desperate ache growing between your legs.

"Before anyone gets too comfortable, I should let you know this course revolves around a semester-long research project." 

A collective groan ripples through the lecture hall but your professor smiles anyways. 

"You'll be working in pairs. By the end of the semester, you'll present a research-backed analysis of interpersonal attraction and the psychological mechanisms that influence it. This isn't a project you can throw together the night before. You'll be meeting with your partner regularly throughout the term."

Partners? Fuck! 

You were a smart girl, always had been but working in groups had never been your strong suit. You were hyper independent and hated relying on others to carry their weight, especially when they hardly ever did. You either ended up doing all the work yourself or none of it, there was no in between. 

"To avoid everyone choosing their friends, I've paired you using a wheel spinner."

A projector illuminated the screen behind her and names began appearing in two neat columns. You leaned forward, quickly scanning for your name and when you found it, you read it again. 

And again, and again until you were shaking your head no and clenching your fists. 

Gojo, Satoru — [Full Name]

"...You've got to be kidding me." The words come out louder than you meant for them to, your professor looking at you with a raised brow. 

“I’m afraid there will be no changes. If anyone is unsatisfied with their partner you’re welcome to make your case after class but I'm afraid my decision is final unless you are at risk of being harmed.”

Did your emotional well being count? This was disastrous, a catastrophic fuck up and you would in fact take her up on her offer and be having a word with your professor once everyone left. You’d get on your knees and beg if you had to. 

Gojo’s lightly laughed beside you and you snap your head toward him with the meanest glare you can muster, eyes burning with fury. 

“What could possibly be funny?” 

He shrugs, biting his bottom lip and staring at your strawberry gloss covered one, not giving a fuck that you could see him checking you out. You squeeze your thighs, annoyed at the way your body was reacting to his attention, betraying you in a way that was unforgivable. 

“Guess fate ships us.”

Cheer practice hadn’t gone any better. As it turned out, Gojo had joined the football team and watching him run around all sweaty with his hair sticking to his head, kicking a ball in his blue uniform, was bad for someone trying to nail down their newest routine. 

The cheer gym was delayed on its remodeling and the auxiliary gym had been in use so the only free space was the football field, hence your current situation. 

It was hot, and you kept fucking up your stunts, eyes lazer focused on the field, instantly finding a set of white hair whenever you got tossed in the air. He hadn’t been looking at you, instead focusing on winning the mock game between teammates.

Yet he was still a nuisance even when he wasn’t trying to be and it didn’t help that you were still fired up from your conversation with your professor from earlier. When you begged to swap places with someone else, she had told you that ‘i don’t get along with fratboys’ wasn’t a legitimate reason to switch partners and that the project was worth fifty percent of your grade so you’d better find common ground fast.

Another thing nagging at you? You had only gotten laid a handful of times in the last year. Discovering you had an abnormally high libido after losing your virginity at the end of freshman year had been rough. Every guy you tried to build something with either couldn’t last more than two rounds before tapping out or wanted something more. 

You weren’t looking for a relationship, just someone to help you get off once or twice a day. Your vibrators could only do so much. You craved the real thing, but struggled to find someone who could meet your needs. 

"Focus!" Your captain's voice snapped you back to reality.

You blinked, realizing you had been staring at Gojo as he power kicked the ball into the net from halfway across the field, kicking dirt up. It was hot as fuck and irritated you at the same time. 

“Sorry.”

You shake your head, stepping into position and letting your bases lock their grips around your ankles before they launch you upward. The familiar rush of adrenaline hits as soon as your body lifts into the air, muscle memory taking over as you balance yourself.

You should have been focused on your counts, on the people responsible for catching you if something went wrong. What did you do instead? You let your eyes wander until they found him again, heart lurching when you saw that he was already staring at you. 

He waved and even from a distance you could tell he was smirking at you, ball in his hand as he pointed at the net and lowered it back to the ground. He moved his head from side to side, looking at you one last time before kicking the ball so hard that it almost took the goalie out, slamming into the back of the net.

Your cheeks burned, the ache from earlier returning. 

You were completely unaware that you were one second away from falling because your brain apparently thought watching him was more important than not breaking your neck. Stupid girl. 

“Eyes up!” Your captain's voice rang through the air and you forced your gaze down, correcting your posture before your bases caught you as you landed safely. 

When your feet hit the ground you exhale sharply, slightly stumbling. Gojo had gone back to playing, as if he hadn’t almost killed you by distracting you.

“Are you alright? You’ve been out of it this entire time-”

“I’m fine! Let’s go again.” 

You weren’t fine. You had just discovered that your brain was your biggest enemy, betraying you with a sudden attraction to your nemesis. That psychology degree was going to be very useful, now that you needed to diagnose why Satoru had become your biggest distraction.

Remember when I said, one might wonder how you of all people ended up with Gojo between your legs? Well here’s the straw that broke your back.

With the way your day had been going, you weren’t really surprised when your shift had gone to shit within the first thirty minutes. You hadn’t even changed out of your cheer uniform and were grateful your manager was nice about it and only made you put on an apron.

You were a baker at a small shop, and while you usually only iced pastries and baked bread, the cashier had called out so you were forced to cover both positions. 

After ringing up the nastiest group of teenagers, you accidentally burned an entire rack of focaccia bread and your finger in the process. Your manager was understanding and thankfully had been able to find someone to cover your shift. You weren’t happy about missing out on money but at least you could lay in your bed and relax after the shit day you had. Right?

Wrong!

Usually when Shoko has company, she texts you beforehand to let you know, so imagine your surprise when you walk into your dorm and you’re scarred for life with the sight of a random’s man ass as he fucks your friend into the mattress. 

The worst part is that they don’t even notice you! No one jumps up in shock and rushes to cover themselves. They continue to fuck like animals, as if you weren’t standing in the hall in shock. 

After a few seconds you realize you should probably leave, jealousy coursing through you as you slam the door and storm from the building. Even Shoko, who never showed romantic or sexual interest in anyone, was getting laid while you were barely getting by with your toys. 

Fine. If you weren't going to get some rest, you could at least be productive. 

The library was the perfect place to study, especially at this time of night. Most people were partying, working or if they were Shoko, getting fucked in their dorms. Libraries didn't contain drunk assholes, frat presidents trying to flirt with you or rude customers screaming at you over something you couldn’t control. It was calm. Quiet. 

And closed..

You stared at the locked doors, legs aching from the walk you just took to get here, thumb still hurting from earlier. You slowly walk to the locked doors, shrugging your cheer bag over your shoulder and checking the sign posted on the front door.

CLOSED DUE TO SHORT STAFFING

The universe was working against you, repaying you for some sin you committed in a past life and deciding you weren’t even allowed one small win today. And to make matters worse, you were still in your cheer uniform and it was getting chilly out.

You blamed Gojo. All of your issues started the moment he walked into that fucking lecture hall and decided to sit next to you. You were completely distracted after that which led to a shit cheer practice, a thirty minute shift and a burnt finger, and walking in on your best friend getting fucked. 

You could kill him right now and not feel an ounce of remorse, even if you logically knew it wasn’t really his fault. You had to blame someone. 

You read the sign again, as if it would magically change and the library would open. It was closed and you were fucked. Simple.

Based on the rare times Shoko did bring someone to your room, it lasted a few hours but you were always at work so it had never been a problem until today. 

"Unbelievable." You dropped your head back with a groan, tightening your grip on your bag and staring into the dark sky. Of course the one night you needed somewhere quiet to hide, the universe decided to laugh in your face. 

You kick lightly at the pavement, annoyed at yourself more than anyone else. If you hadn’t cut off the last guy you had been sleeping with just because he tried to invite you to a frat party, maybe you’d also be getting fucked right now. 

It was your own fault really. You were too stubborn for your own good, your mother would tell you. “No one will want to put up with your high demands.” as if you hadn’t gotten that trait from her. That was fine. You didn’t need anything more from a man than sex, but no one had been able to match your high drive. 

“I just need…” You look at the door again, tugging the handle just in case someone had forgotten to take down the sign.

Locked. 

“God dammit!” 

A laugh sounded from behind you and you froze, knowing exactly who it was without even turning around. Apparently the universe hadn't finished ruining your night yet. Yay, you. 

“Rough night?” 

You ball your fists and take a deep breath, counting to three and fighting back tears of frustration. When you turned around, you took in a sharp breath at the sight in front of you.

Gojo was holding a textbook under his arm and wearing a brown cardigan with a blue shirt underneath, light beige pants and were those..

He was wearing glasses. Not shades but bulky glasses that made him look kinda nerdy and the sight had the hair on your arms standings and your pupils expanding. He looked like a completely different person but you could tell it was him from the signature smirk he wore.

He stares at you with a titled head and you swallow the spit forming in your mouth. You weren’t seriously thirsty over Gojo right now, right? I mean, you knew you were sex deprived but he was everything you stood against so why were you staring at him like he was the best thing to walk the earth since Jesus himself? 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Came to study. Crazy concept, right?”

Your hand tightens around the handle of your bag, eyes drifting back to the textbook he was holding, though that was far from what you were staring at. Since when did Gojo have such huge hands and why were you attracted to his veins protruding as he grips the book?

“For you, yeah.” 

“Ouch.” He laughs, soft and gentle and the sound has your pussy clenching against nothing. No fucking way was your body betraying you right now. You had never in your life clenched at a laugh, nor grown wet at the sight of someone and yet it was happening no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. 

Gojo hadn’t even touched you, nor made any kind of sexual joke like he typically would and yet you were acting like a cat in heat. 

“You really think so little of me? I’m kind of heartbroken.” 

Yes. But you don’t say it, just look back at the dark building in defeat. Gojo notices and looks over your shoulder, his own sagging as he mumbles something you can’t understand.

“That’s unfortunate. You need somewhere to study, sweets? We can go to my place.” 

You’re turning to him so fast your head spins, shoulders stiff as you prepare to lay into him but he beats you before you can even open your mouth, hands come up defensively. 

“Not at the frat, I only live there part time. I have an apartment off campus, and a desk we can use.” 

He waits for you to say something before giving up and sighing in exhaustion. You could tell he was annoyed but you didn’t care. If he was going to try to get you back to his place, he’d have to try a little harder than whatever this was.

“We should probably study together anyways right? You know, since we’re partners now..”

You should have said no, told him to fuck off but he did have a point. The library was closed, your roommate was otherwise occupied, and the faster you and Gojo finished your project, the sooner you’d never have to see each other again. 

"One hour."

His grin appeared immediately as he held his free hand out to you. "Knew you couldn't resist me."

You scuff and move past him, getting into the passenger seat and making sure you glared out the window the entire ride there.

Gojo didn’t live far, no more than twenty minutes away from campus and you were grateful. Being in an enclosed space with him was hard enough, especially since the entire thing smelled of that cinnamon cologne that drove you crazy.

He tried to talk to you. About football practice, the assignment, the terrible song on the radio, anything to hear your voice but you were dead set on ignoring him, answering in low grunts and one word responses. 

“The uniform is hot by the way. Had no idea you were a cheerleader, but I can’t say I mind watching you while I practice. The next time you want my attention though, just ask. No need to risk cracking your head open just to look at me.” 

You’re insulted, face burning but you won’t feed into this petty spat he clearly wants to have. In the two years you’ve known him and the times you had to suffer his presence, you came to learn that everything he said was to get a reaction out of you.

Not this time. 

“Gojo?”

“Yes, princess?” 

“Shut up.”

Gojo’s apartment smelled like expensive air freshener and a faint trace of weed he swore he didn’t smoke anymore and it was from Sukuna and Suguru who had been over earlier. You ignored him, dropping your bag on the living room floor and looking around. 

It was nice. Not spotless but cleaner than you thought it would be. Most of the furniture, you noticed, was black. His couch, the tables and chairs, even the curtains. 

A stack of textbooks sat on his coffee table alongside a half-empty sports drink and what looked like a few polaroids. You move to get a better look but before you can really see anything, Gojo brushes past you and snatches them.  

“Tsk, nosey girl.” He clicks his tongue and moves toward the kitchen. “Do you want anything?” 

An hour later, you’re full off the takeout food Gojo got delivered and knee deep in your studies. You try to ignore the fact that the desk you’re sitting at is in his fucking bedroom but if he wasn’t overreacting to it then you weren’t going to either. 

The last thing you needed right now was for Gojo to get distracted. He had actually been focusing on the project, refraining from making any crude comments or staring at your breast though you’d caught him looking at your bare legs once.  

"Interpersonal attraction refers to the positive feeling one person forms toward another,'" You were sitting together at his desk as he read aloud from the textbook while you took notes. "'Researchers generally agree attraction develops through a combination of biological, cognitive, behavioral, and environmental factors.'"

You typed the definition into your outline while he skimmed farther down.

"'Repeated exposure to an individual tends to increase positive feelings toward them, even in the absence of meaningful interaction.'"

You don’t miss the way he lets his shoulder bump into yours, body moving an inch closer to yours. You have to squeeze your legs and bite back the moan creeping up your throat. He was still wearing the glasses, claiming his contacts were drying his eyes and that you would have known he wore them if you spent more than five minutes around him without ripping his head off. 

You clear your throat and lean your body the opposite way. "The mere exposure effect."

"Mhmm. Which basically means people annoy each other until they fall in love."

Your fingers paused over the keyboard, slightly shaking as you look over at him. He was already staring, having moved closer to you again. The desk was big enough to hold both your laptops but small enough that you still invaded each other's space, his trick of turning his chair to face you doing nothing now that his knees brushed against the side of your thigh. 

He was reaching a hand out to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and you didn’t stop him, didn’t yell at him to fuck off. You just sat there, breathless, mind trying to process what was happening as he frowned at your lip tucked between your teeth.

"That’s not what it says." You whisper and he leans in closer, the corner of his mouth tugging in a small smile, eyes soft behind his glasses.

Gojo had been a thorn in your side since freshman year. He was everything you hated: arrogant, a fratboy, rich nepo baby, and a massive fuckboy that played with girls' hearts like they were toys meant for his entertainment.

But he was also infuriatingly smart when he bothered to try, and right now, he was watching you with an intensity that made your skin prickle and your pussy grow wet. 

“Sure, whatever my princess says.” His voice is sultry and low as he reaches a hand out again to rubs his thumb on your lower lip, pulling it out before letting go. 

You swallow hard, butterflies fluttering in your belly. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re tense.” He lets his hand travel to your shoulder, slow enough so that you could pull away, and when you don’t, he continues tracing your exposed collarbone, toying with the v-neck of your top. 

“You’ve hated me for three years. That takes a lot of passion, ever wonder why you care so much?”

You opened your mouth to yell at him, to defend yourself against what he was implying because you had plenty of reasons to hate him but couldn’t think of any at this moment. Your brain was short circuiting and it was humiliating. 

“I don’t care.” You manage to spit out.

Gojo’s eyes darkened, his grin fading. “Liar.” 

His other hand slid up your thigh, creeping under your skirt and still, you didn't move away. Instead you decided to embarrass yourself even further and spread your legs to give him easier access. 

“The chapter says physical attraction can override rational judgment. Maybe that’s what’s happening here. You claim I'm an asshole but you’re still sitting in my room, letting me touch you.”

“I’m-, oh!” You cry when he hovers over your clothed cunt, barely touching it and you’re bucking against him for more. So pathetic, so stupid. “I’m merely analyzing the s-subject matter.”

“Yeah, princess? Let’s put that theory to the test. I’ll keep touching you..” He turns your chair toward him, ignoring the way you gasp and glare at him for the loss of contact. He pulls it closer, the legs scrapping against the floorboard.

“And we’ll see if your rational judgment kicks in.” 

He taps your thigh and you lift your hips as he pulls your panties down and tosses them over his shoulder. He’s spreading your legs again, further this time and he doesn’t waste a moment. His fingers are rubbing against your slit and you toss your head onto the back of the chair, hips shaking as you whine into his hand.

Gojo moved to kneel in front of you, his middle finger slipping between your folds and nudging at your entrance. When you looked down at him, entire body on fire, he was staring up at you as if looking for your approval. 

Obviously grinding against him like a desperate whore wasn’t enough. No, Gojo wanted to hear you, to humiliate you and mock you for all the shit you had given him just to let him finger you when you should have been working on your project. 

“Use your words or I'll stop.” He goes to pull his fingers away and your heart lurches. 

The last thing you wanted was to beg him of all people but you were too far gone to not get something out of this. So you swallow your pride and nod. 

“Keep going, you fucking jerk.”

He chuckles and grabs your thighs, placing them both over his shoulders. “I’m about to eat your pussy and you still can’t be nice to me.” 

You don’t respond and he’s pushing his middle and index fingers through your neglected hole, not giving you any time to adjust before leaning down and taking your clit in his mouth. 

“Satoru!” You cry out his name and the sound of coming from your lips has him groaning against you and closing his eyes to savor it. 

You reach a hang out to grab his hair, looking down and clenching around his fingers because the way he has his head under your skirt is so fucking hot you think you might cum on the spot. He was so hungry for you that he didn’t even properly undress you, greedy man that he was. 

His fingers curl inside of you, pumping a little faster as he licks up and down your slit, stopping to suck on your clit each time he passes it. When you try to close your legs, he grabs your thigh with his free hand and pulls it further open. 

“Mmff, shtay righ' there.” He mumbles against your pussy, wrapping his lips back around your clit and sucking hard, using his teeth to lightly nibble and you’re leaking so much you can feel it dripping down your thighs. 

This wasn’t the kind of research you had been expecting to do but you would accept it just this once, for the sake of your grade of course. This is also the longest he’s ever been quiet in your presence and if you had known that he was such a good pussy eater you would have put his mouth to use long ago. 

‘Haaah, go deeper, I- oh god, nggghh I need more!” You grind against his face harder, gripping his hair and pulling him closer. 

He just moans encouragingly, burying his fingers knuckles deep and fucking you dumb with them. Your squishy walls contracted around his fingers and with the next curl of them, you were wrapping your legs around his head and cumming so hard that your vision turned white, orgasm stealing your sight while you buck wildly against his face. 

You were making a huge mess but Gojo didn’t seem to mind, licking you through it and only slowing his fingers when your legs dropped. He placed a kiss on your pussy before pulling from under your skirt and sucking on his fingers, looking right up at you. 

His glasses were crooked, face glistening with your release and his cheeks were flushed red. Your chest heaved up and down dramatically as you fought to breathe properly again. 

You couldn't remember the last time you came that hard and irritated you, made you crave more but you could never let him touch you again. This was a mistake, a serious lapse of judgement and yet you still needed more, your pussy already coming back to life. 

You quickly stand and pull your skirt down, legs weak as you move around Gojo to find your panties, mortified at your own feelings right now. You just let a frat president go down on you and now you were thinking of how he would fuck you? 

Clearly you weren’t in the right state of mind. 

“You’re not tired of running away from me yet?” Gojo snaps, all sense of playfulness gone. 

He was annoyed, you could hear it in his voice. Not that you cared but he was your ride here so you might as well appease him a little, right? 

“I’m not running!” You yell, fingers digging into your palms. You were so beyond angry with yourself, disappointed that you got this far without falling into his den and now here you were. “I got what I wanted, the theory was correct but I think this study session has lasted longer than it should have.” 

He looks at you in disbelief, taking his glasses off with a sigh and setting them on the desk before walking over to you, running his hand through his messy hair. 

You were frozen. Every rational part of your brain screamed at you to shove him away and walk out. But your body was humming, and the way he looked at you made you want more. 

He hovered over you, grabbing your chin and titling your head back so he can look you in the eyes, his other hand on your hip and playing with the waistband of your skirt. 

“I can tell you haven’t been touched properly in a long time. Why do you insist on pretending like you don’t feel this pull between us, even if we hate each other?”

“You hate me?” Your lip twitches. While you can confidently say you despised him, he never gave the impression that he felt the same unless he had some sick way of showing it. 

Gojo frowns and you hate how beautiful he looks. “No, never. I do want to fuck you though, so maybe we can help each other out.”

He pulls your skirt down just a little, fingers rubbing at the skin on your hip and sending a shiver through your body. 

“Kind of like.. an arrangement. You can keep on hating me in public but in this room, I get to fuck you for as long as I want. Call it research for our project. Deal?” 

You take a minute to think about it. 

You were still seething at yourself for letting him touch. This meant nothing, you still hated him but even you had needs that needed to be met and if Gojo made you cum that hard from his fingers and tongue, you had to know what his cock could do.

“Fine, but I should warn you that I have a really high libido that most men can’t keep up with. If it’s too much I’ll just find-”

He cuts you off with a laugh, grabbing your hips and pulling you close enough that you feel his rock hard cock twitching against your stomach. He grabs the back on your neck and squeezes until you’re looking up at him again. 

“You just haven’t been with a real man yet, princess. But don’t worry, I'll take real good care of you. Now take off your fucking clothes.” 

You bite your tongue, resisting the urge to ask who he was talking to and at the same time, kicking yourself because you kind of liked it.  

“Safe word?” He asked, unbuttoning his pants and stepping out them, his bulge huge against his white boxers, a small wet spot sitting on the front of them. 

You roll your eyes and lift your shirt off, then your skirt. “We’re not children. Our safe words are stop and no.” 

He nods and pulls his cardigan off and then the shirt underneath. Holy fucking sleeper build. Gojo was ripped but you’d never be able to tell under the clothes he wears. You’re taken aback by just how attractive he was, remembering the day you first saw him and how he was ten times hotter now. 

Still a fratboy, still a prick but even you couldn't deny that he was one of the most stunning humans out there. Kind of otherworldly if you thought about it long enough.

“How about kissing? You cool with that, orrr?” He asks while pulling his boxers down and stepping out of them, his cock hitting his stomach and it was definitely the biggest one you’d ever seen. Thick and pulsing, pre leaking from the mushroom tip.

“Off limits. We’re strictly enemies with benefits, nothing more.”

 There was no need to make this more difficult than it already was. You were beating yourself up for even being attracted to him, then to add kissing on top of that? You needed to save a shred of your dignity so you would be keeping your kisses. 

“Fine, and we always use condoms. Not trying to be a dad in college like Toji. And no whining.”

You nod in agreement even though you were on birth control, snapping your bra off and tossing it, letting Gojo admire you and relishing in the way he looks like a lovestruck fool, hearts basically bursting in his eyes. 

You don’t give him long, moving to climb on his bed and lay on your back. Your body was tight with need and you hadn’t even realized what you were doing, spreading your legs and playing with your pussy. 

Gojo stands by the side of the bed and watches you as he reaches into the nightstand for a condom, using his teeth to rip it open and stroking it on. 

You feel the bed dip first, his body climbing between yours, using his legs to nudge yours further open and then the heat of his cock pressing against your thigh. 

“Fuck, you look so perfect.” 

You open your eyes and if you didn’t hate him you’d say the same thing. His white hair messy on his head, the longer pieces falling into his bright blue eyes. His body was perfect, his shoulders not too broad but muscular, his waist thinner. 

“Whatever, just fuck me.” You huff and in a blink he’s smacking his cock on your pussy then lining himself up with your entrance. 

His heat engulfs you when he lays over your body, tapping your thigh so you wrap your leg around his waist.

He places his forehead on yours and smiles as sweetly as possible, one hand digging into the bed above your head to hold him up, the other placed on your hip.

“Ready?” He nudges your nose, gripping the sheets to stop himself from kissing you. 

You bit your lip and nod, before stopping and pushing at his chest when he starts to nudge the tip in. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll ruin your life.” 

He rolls his eyes, swallowing the words ‘you already have’. “Sure, now can I fuck you?”

When he pushes the first few inches in, you gasp from the sting and before you can stop him he’s leaning down and pressing his soft lips against yours to quiet you.

He squeezes your hip and with one more brutal thrust, he was inside you, filling you to the hilt in one go. You cried into his mouth and he swallowed it, your back arching off the bed as he bottomed out, his balls pressing against your ass. He was almost too big, stretching you in ways that should’ve been painful but wasn’t. 

He was the perfect fit, just what you had been looking for, the tip of his cock pressing deliciously against your cervix.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” he groaned, pulling back to look at you before slamming into you again. And again, his hips pistoned against yours, each snap of his pelvis driving him deeper and grinding onto your clit, your toes curling from the intense pleasure. 

“Satoru! Huuuh, yes, fuck me just like that!” You tighten your legs around his waist, moving your hips up to meet his. 

You clawed at his back, your nails leaving red marks as he fucked you like he hated you. Like he wanted to ruin you and punish you for making him wait years to do this. And god, did you love it.

“Harder,” you gasped.

He laughed darkly, gripping your throat just enough to make your vision swim. “You want it rough, baby? S-shit! You want me to fuck you like the enemy that you are?”

“Yes Satoru! P-please.”

In a flash he was flipping you over, placing you on your hands and knees and slamming back into you before you could catch your breath. Your ass was in the air and he pushed your head down until it was flat on the mattress, his hands tight on your waist as he pounded into you, his hips snapping against yours with a bruising force. 

Thank god he had his own place because each thrust had the bed rocking and sent a jolt of hot pleasure through you, your pussy clench around him and making obscene wet squelching noises that only fueled his hunger for you.

Gojo picked up his pace, veiny cock rubbing against your walls and he wished he could feel your raw pussy, wanted to stuff you full of his cum but he knew better so he ignored his instinct and focused on fucking you. 

The cries you let slip out are music to his ears, a song he wanted to hear every fucking day but he would settle for tonight, for now. He leans forward and fucks into you harder, hand squeezing your boob and twisting your nipples, pinching and pulling until you’re whimpering, tears pooling down your face. 

“Didn’t I say no whining?  Be a good girl, princess.”

You don’t hear what he’s saying, too drunk on his cock as he fucks you stupid, drool spilling from your mouth and onto the sheet. The sight has Gojo groaning, his balls tightening as he splits you open on his cock and fucks you stupid.

“Shit, look at you. All fucked out. Fucking take it baby. Take my cock like a good cum slut.”

His words have you shaking violently with your second orgasm, eyes rolled back as he fucked you through it, squirting heavy on his cock and making a beautiful mess. 

“Never letting anyone fuck you again.” He pushes you further onto the bed, your stomach flat against the mattress as he grinds deep into you, completely dominating you, his hands gripping the sheets above you. “This is mine, say it’s my pussy, baby. Tell me you belong to me-fuck-haaah.”

You don’t answer but the way you’re crying for more is enough to satisfy Gojo and he’s filling the condom with white hot cum, gasping as wave after wave of pleasure rocks him, his hips twitching as he empties himself into the latex.

He gives sloppy, lazy thrusts as he rides it out, pushing deep into you one last time before pulling out and falling onto his back next to you. While you come back down to earth, he’s ripping the condom off, tying it and tossing it into the trash before reaching for another one. 

Before you know it, he’s rolling it and pulling you onto his lap, lining himself up and pulling you down onto his cock while pushing up into you, fingers digging into your hips. 

“Ready for round two?” He smirks when you start to move despite still trying to remember how to breathe properly.

He doesn’t stop after that, keeps fucking you until you’re on the verge of passing out, body weak and shaking but still wanting more.

“What number are we at now, four? Come on, princess. Gimme another one, I know you can do it. Gotta get to five, it’s my favorite number.”

Holy shit.. Gojo was everything you had been looking for in a sexual partner. You had been fucking for two hours now and yet he still has the energy of a man running on spite and arrogance.

It was almost comical. You were a fucking goddess, you could get anyone you wanted, any man would be lucky to have you. Yet the only one who seemed to know how to satisfy you was the one guy you couldn’t stand. 

Not that any of that mattered when he had you riding his cock, again, your pussy swollen from how hard he’d been fucking you without tiring. Your clit was overstimulated but he kept rubbing it anyway, your back arching as you felt the pressure building in your belly again.

“C-can’t Toru’” You slurred, drooling dripping down your chin, your face completely wet with tears, makeup long ruined.

“I believe in you, baby.” He smacks your ass hard and then does it again just to watch the way you jump. “Look at you, taking me so well. S’proud of you babe.” 

You ignore the pet name, ass on fire and too close to cumming for the fifth time to argue with him over it.His hands grip your hips, pulling you up and down on his cock. You twirled your hips, spelling your name out as you fucked him back, body aching from the intense fuck session. 

It wasn’t long before you were grinding harder against Gojo’s pelvis and squirting on him again, fingers pressing into his shoulders as he fell over the edge with you. Pushing himself up and throwing his head back with a roar, legs stretching out as he pumped a thick load of cum into condom. 

You move up and down as much as you can, helping him finish his orgasm before collapsing against his chest. Gojo wraps his long arms around you, cock still seated inside you as you both fight to breathe, sweaty bodies sticking together, eyes droopy with exhaustion. 

What a fucking night. 

You would one hundred percent be fucking him again, even if it was just until you found someone you could tolerate outside of the bedroom. As for now, Gojo was the only one that could tame the fire inside of you and fuck did you hate to admit that. 

You can feel his heart beating against your own, his hand rubbing up and down spine, lips kissing the side of your head. As reality comes back to you, you freeze before pushing yourself off him and laying next to him on the bed. 

You ignore the hurt look on his face. 

“Wanna shower with me?” Gojo asks, sitting up and pushing his hair from his forehead, looking at you over his shoulder with cloudy eyes. 

“Seperate.”  You don’t even look at him. Way to flip the script on him, he was usually the one ignoring girls after getting what he wanted.

He nods and goes through his drawer before finding a pair of sweatpants to put on, the obvious bulge of his still hard cock making your pulse jump.

He goes into the bathroom connected to his room and you hear the shower turn on before he comes back out and tosses you a towel. You can tell he’s upset but you ignore it. He wasn’t your man, it wasn't your problem. 

After you wash your body and your hair, you find that he’s left you a pair of shorts and a shirt on the bed. When he comes back in the room and sees you dressed in his clothes, the size of it swallowing you, his heart damn near stops and you see the way he swallows the lump in his throat. 

He clears his throat and smiles at you, slowly walking toward you and your body goes cold when he places his hand on your cheek and leans down to kiss your forehead. 

That was the second time he broke your rule and the second time you didn’t correct him.

“Stay. I’ll bring you home in the morning, I can take the couch.” 

You nod your head ok, lost for words and he simply nods and moves past you to take his shower.

Later that night you toss and turn before giving up and laying on your back, staring at the ceiling in the nearly dark room, drumming your fingers on your stomach. You sometimes had nights where you just couldn’t sleep no matter what you did and it seems tonight was one of those nights. 

You’re still sore between your legs, a reminder that you went back on your word and let Gojo fuck you. You didn’t regret, even had plans on doing it again but that didn’t mean you weren’t angry with yourself. More so because you smelled just like him after using his soap.

He just knew all the right places to touch you, all the best ways to make you cum harder than you did the time before, his cock fitting so perfectly inside of you. It was a shame he had the personality of a walnut. 

When you finally turn on your side to go to sleep, eyes burning from exhaustion, you feel the bed dip behind you and strong arms wrap around you. 

You try to squirm out of Gojo’s grip but he tightens his arms around you, pulling you until your ass is flush against his hard cock, his chin tucked atop your head. 

“Gojo.. we need to sleep, we have class tomorrow.” 

“So I’m only Satoru when I fuck you? Wicked girl.” He leans down to kiss your neck and you let him, again, feeling your clit grow erect and that ache return. 

“That’s your name isn’t it?” You huff out, moving your hips back against him.

He ignores you, hand going to your hip you pull you close as he grinds into you, slipping yours and his pants down. He quickly puts on a condom before pushing into you, bottoming out in one thrust, hand covering your mouth to keep you quiet. 

“Gonna fuck you until you only know Satoru.. You know, my favorite number is actually six.”

You may have bitten off more than you could chew.

❦ lisa's note: sorry about the pledge scene 🥲 I wanted to show how frats are and needed you to truly hate them. promise I'll make up for it!

© art creds: gojouify

And you’re so used to it, the casual touching, the way they both smell faintly of cedar and whatever cologne they stole from each other, that you never question how heavy their breathing gets when you shift and your ass presses back against Eren’s hips.

You yawn, stretch like a cat, and announce it without thinking.

“I’ve got a date tomorrow night.”

The room doesn’t freeze. Not exactly.

But the lazy thumb on your thigh stops dead. Toru’s fingers pause mid-scratch against your scalp. The only sound left is the muffled explosions from the television and the sudden harsh rhythm of Eren’s exhale through his nose.

“A date,” Eren repeats. Flat. Like he’s tasting something bitter.

“Yeah,” you hum, oblivious, scrolling through your phone now. “This guy from chem. He’s cute. Kinda tall. Said he’d take me to that new ramen place downtown.”

Toru’s voice comes quieter than usual. Almost gentle. “Tomorrow.”

“Mhm.” You tilt your head back to look up at him, smiling all sweet and glassy-eyed like you always do when you’re happy. “Why? You guys wanna come third-wheel? I can ask if he’s cool with it.”

Eren laughs, but it’s wrong. Sharp, with no humor in it at all.

He shifts under you suddenly, strong hands clamping around your hips, keeping you pinned right where you are. You squeak in surprise, thighs squeezing together on instinct.

“No,” he says. Low and dangerous. “We don’t wanna third-wheel, princess.”

Toru’s hand slides from your hair down to your throat…not choking, just… holding. Collarbone to jaw. His thumb brushing the soft skin under your chin so you have to look at him.

“You’re not going,” he murmurs.

You blink up at him, lashes fluttering. “Huh?”

“You’re not going on a date,” Eren cuts in, voice rougher now, hips rolling up just enough that you feel exactly how hard he is. Not subtle. Not pretending anymore. The thick outline of him presses insistently against your ass through thin layers of fabric. “Not with him. Not with anyone.”

Your breath catches. You’re still trying to process, still trying to stay in that sweet, fuzzy headspace where they’re just your overprotective best friends so when Toru leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth soft, teasing and barely there, you're a bit stunned to say the least.

But Eren doesn’t tease.

He grabs your chin, turns your face towards him, and kisses you like he’s been starving for it. Deep and messy, his tongue sliding against yours before you can even gasp. One hand fists in your hair while the other slips under the hoodie, rough palm skating up your bare stomach until he’s cupping your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple like he’s done it a thousand times in his head, he grabs it and balls up the fabric in his palm and tugs it off you, throwing it behind the couch without care.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard. Your lips are swollen. His eyes are dilated, black eating the emerald green.

“We’ve been good,” he rasps. “So fucking good. Letting you prance around in those tiny shorts, letting you sleep between us, letting you rub that pretty little body all over us every night like it’s nothing. But a date?” He laughs again low and bitter. “Nah, baby. That shit ends tonight.”

Toru’s mouth finds your neck. Open-mouthed, he sucks a bruise right under your jaw while his hand slides between your thighs, not touching your pussy yet, just cupping you over your panties, letting you feel the heat of his palm.

“You’ve been so sweet to us,” Toru whispers against your skin. “Letting us hold you. Letting us get hard and pretend it’s an accident. But we’re done pretending, baby.”

Eren’s fingers pinch your nipple harder and you whimper embarrassingly which makes them both look at each other in unison and smirk.

“We both think about this cunt every single night,” he growls. “Every time you fall asleep between us, we’re rock fucking hard imagining how tight you’d feel. How wet you are, how you’d cry our names when we finally stretch you open.”

Toru hums in agreement, middle finger pressing just enough against your clit through the cotton that your hips jerk.

“You’re ours,” he says simply. Like it’s obvious. Like it’s always been obvious. “Always have been. You just didn’t know we were waiting for permission to take what’s ours.”

Eren leans in again, lips brushing yours.

“Tell us you want it,” he murmurs. “Tell us you want both of us. Or we stop right now… and you can go on your little date tomorrow like a good girl.”

His thumb brushes your bottom lip.

“But if you do…” He smiles slowly, a feral glint in his eyes,"We're not letting you leave this couch until your pussy’s so full of us you can’t even think about another man’s name.”

Your thighs tremble.

Your heart hammers, you aren't entirely sure if the imagery Eren’s just conjured up is what has your body on fire and mind in disarray with boiling want. Do you really want them both at the same time, your best friends…were you always this naive about them or did you just realise that you want them too.. God, yes you fucking do.

And between them now, with their warmth, dicks hard and unyielding tension, you feel something inside you finally give in.

Soft and sweet and a little dumb with want.

“…please,” you whisper.

Eren groans like you just handed him the keys to heaven.

Toru smiles against your throat.

“Good girl.”

You’re still trembling from the way they pinned you down, Eren’s mouth bruising yours, Satoru’s teeth grazing your throat and when Toru shifts, sitting up straighter on the couch. His hoodie is rucked up just enough to show the sharp cut of his hips, the light trail of hair disappearing into gray sweats that are doing nothing to hide how fucking thick he is.

“Baby,” he says, voice all soft velvet now, “need your mouth.”

Your eyes drop automatically. His hand catches yours, guides it down slow until your palm presses flat over the obscene bulge. Even through the fabric you can feel the heat, the heavy throb. He’s so hard it looks painful, long, thick and curving up toward his stomach like it’s begging.

“See, baby? m’hard for you,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your knuckles while he makes you feel every inch. “Been like this every night you sleep between us. Couldn’t help it. Your little ass grinding back, those tiny whimpers you make in your sleep… fuck.”

You swallow. Your mouth feels too wet, too empty.

He tugs the waistband of his sweats down just enough. No underwear.. you think thats gross but also fucking hot ugh. Just him and his fat, flushed cock, the tip already slick and shiny with precum that beads at the slit and drips slow down the underside. It twitches when the cool air hits it. So pretty. So stupidly big. The kind of cock that makes your thighs clench on instinct.

You’re sweet about it. Always sweet. You lean forward without being told twice, pressing the softest, open-mouthed kiss right to the fat head. Your lips brush the sticky tip and he hisses through his teeth, hips jerking like he can’t help it.

“Good girl,” Toru breathes. One hand cups the back of your head, not pushing, just holding. “Just like that. Kiss it again. Taste me, pretty please.”

You do. Another slow, filthy kiss. Then another. Letting your tongue flick out to lap at the precum, salty and warm. He groans low in his throat.

“Open up, baby. Gonna teach you exactly how I like it.”

You part your lips. He guides himself in slowly, inch by thick inch, until the head sits heavy on your tongue. Your eyes water instantly at the stretch, but you don’t pull back. You just look up at him with those big, glassy eyes while he starts telling you what he wants.

“Suck the tip first.. yeah aaaah- just like that. Swirl your pretty tongue around it. Fuck… goodness baby. Now take a little more. Relax your throat for me, sweet thing. Breathe through your nose.”

You try. You really try. He’s so big it makes your jaw ache already, but the way he’s looking at you like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen makes you want to take all of him. You hollow your cheeks, suck soft, letting your tongue drag along the thick vein underneath.

Behind you, Eren’s been patient. Too patient.

His hands find the backs of your thighs, prying them apart until you’re spread wide across his lap. Cool air hits your soaked panties and you whimper around Toru’s cock.

“Come on, baby girl,” Eren growls against the shell of your ear. “Won’t you let me see this pretty pussy? Been dying to look at it properly.”

His fingers hook into the crotch of your panties, tugging them to the side. You’re dripping. Embarrassingly so, strings of slick connecting your folds to the fabric when he pulls it away and he groans like he’s in pain.

“Fuck. Look at her, Toru. She’s fucking soaked.”

Toru’s hips stutter forward, pushing a little deeper into your mouth at the sight. You gag softly but keep going, drool's already slipping down your chin.

Eren’s fingers slide through your folds slowly with deliberate care, coating themselves in your wetness before he finds your clit. Cute little swollen thing, peeking out and begging. He rubs it in tight, mean circles with his thumb while two fingers tease your entrance, not pushing in yet. Just circling. Spreading you open.

“So wet for us,” he mutters. “This little cunt’s been waiting, huh? Knew you needed both of us stretching you out.”

You moan around Toru’s cock, the vibrations making him curse under his breath. Your hips buck forward into Eren’s hand without thinking, chasing the pressure on your clit.

Toru’s grip tightens in your hair. “That’s it, baby. Keep sucking. Gonna fuck your mouth slow while Eren plays with this perfect pussy. You’re doing so good for us.”

Eren slips one finger inside you, then another immediately, curling them just right while his thumb keeps working your clit in relentless little strokes. You’re shaking now, thighs trembling, drool dripping down Toru’s cock as you try to take him deeper. 

Eren hooks his fingers into the thin waistband of your panties now, tugging them down with slow, patient care, down the swell of you ass and the crotch is soaked, from his spit and your sticky slick. Once he gets it off he presses an open mouthed kiss to your pretty cunt, his mouth fully englufing you with no barrier stopping him anymore.

They’ve got you right where they want you, split open between them, mouth full, cunt dripping, completely theirs.

And they’re only just getting started.

Toru’s grip in your hair turns firmer but not cruel, just enough to remind you who’s in control. He rocks his hips up slow, feeding you another thick inch until the head bumps the back of your throat and your eyes water instantly. You gag around him, soft and wet, helpless little sound that makes his abs flex and his breath hitch.

“Fuck, baby… that’s it,” he groans, voice wrecked. “Gag on it. Let me feel that tight little throat squeeze me. You’re so sweet when you try to take it all.”

Tears prick your lashes. Drool spills from the corners of your mouth, slicking down his shaft, dripping onto your chin and the couch beneath. You’re messy for him, always so eager to please and he loves it. Loves the way your tongue still tries to swirl even when you’re struggling, the way your cheeks hollow every time he pulls back just to push in again.

Behind you, Eren’s done playing nice.

He’s got your thighs shoved wide, knees hooked over his shoulders now so your ass is lifted just enough for him to bury his face where he’s been dying to be. Rough hands spread your cunt open, his fingers digging into soft, slick flesh, holding you apart like he’s displaying you. You’re so wet it’s obscene: glistening folds, clit swollen and throbbing, strings of arousal clinging to his fingers when he pulls them away.

“Look at this sloppy little pussy,” he mutters against your inner thigh, hot breath fanning over your core. “Dripping all over my hand just from sucking him off. You love being used like this, don’t you?”

Before you can even whimper around Toru’s cock, Eren slaps your pussy, a sharp, wet smack that makes your whole body jolt. The sting blooms fast into heat, clit pulsing harder. You cry out muffled around the thick length filling your mouth.

Eren does it again. Harder. The sound is filthy, each wet smacks echoing in the quiet room. Your hips buck uselessly, cunt clenching around nothing.

“Sensitive already?” he taunts, voice low and mean. Then he spits, right on your clit, a thick glob of saliva landing perfectly, sliding down your folds. He watches it drip with dark eyes before leaning in and dragging his tongue flat from your entrance to your clit in one long, slow stripe.

You sob around Toru. The vibration makes him curse and thrust deeper, holding you there until your nose brushes his pelvis and you’re choking sweetly, and tears streaming.

Eren eats you like he’s starving. Tongue flicking fast over your clit, then sucking it between his lips with hard pulls that make your thighs shake. He alternates: sloppy open-mouthed kisses to your folds, tongue dipping inside to fuck you shallow, then back to circling that needy little bud. Every time you get close, your hips grinding and muffled moans turning desperate, he pulls back. Just enough.

Edging and Torturing you… keeping you right on the brink.

“Uh-uh,” he growls when your cunt flutters, so close you can taste it. Another slap, lighter this time, but it still makes you yelp around Toru’s cock. “Not yet, baby girl. You don’t come until we say.”

Toru’s breathing is ragged now, hips stuttering as he fucks your throat in shallow thrusts. “She’s gonna make me come if she keeps moaning like that,” he warns Eren, but there’s no real complaint in it, just raw need. “Fuck… her mouth’s so warm. So fucking wet.”

Eren hums against your clit, the vibration ripping another choked sound from you. He spits again messily then sucks your clit back into his mouth while two fingers slide inside, curling against that spot that makes your eyes roll back.

You’re shaking. Drooling. Gagging sweetly every time Toru bottoms out. Cunt clenching around Eren’s fingers while he edges you mercilessly with every lick, suck, slap, spit, repeat.

They’ve got you trapped between them, mouth stuffed full, pussy spread and devoured, body trembling on the edge of something massive.

Toru’s thumb brushes a tear from your cheek, almost tenderly and he slips his cock out of from your mouth and taps the tip of his cock to your lips as you catch your breath, smearing bubbly saliva and pre over your lips messily.

“Such a good girl,” he whispers. “Taking us both so pretty.”

Eren pulls back just long enough to murmur against your dripping folds:

“Gonna let you come soon, baby… but only when you’re choking on his load and begging for mine.”

Your whole body clenches at the promise.

They’re not stopping.

Not until you’re ruined for anyone else.

Eren pulls back from your dripping cunt with a wet, obscene sound, his lips shiny, chin slick with you. He’s breathing hard, eyes dark and blown out like he’s high off the taste. Without a word he shifts, lying flat on his back along the couch, one arm hooked behind his head while the other reaches for your hip.

“Come on, baby,” he rasps, voice rough from all the growling and licking. “Sit on my face. Need this pretty pussy grinding on my tongue right fucking now.”

You’re still dazed, mouth swollen from Toru, thighs shaking from the edging, but the command cuts through the fog. You crawl forward on shaky knees, straddling his head. He doesn’t wait for you to settle. Big hands clamp around your hips and yank you down hard until your soaked cunt is pressed flush to his mouth.

The first swipe of his tongue is filthy, long and flat dragging from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans into you like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted, vibrations ripping a broken moan from your throat. Then he’s eating you messy: lips sucking at your folds, tongue fucking inside shallow and greedy, nose bumping your clit with every tilt of his head. He’s loud about it slurping, sucking and growling against your core like he’s trying to drink you dry.

Your hands scramble for purchase, fingers digging into the back of the couch as your hips rock instinctively, grinding down on his face. He loves it. Encourages it with bruising grips, guiding you to ride his tongue harder and faster.

Toru’s been watching the whole time, stroking himself slow and lazy while you gagged on him earlier. Now he stands up beside the couch, his sweats shoved down to his thighs, cock flushed dark and glistening from your spit. He steps closer, one hand fisting the base while the other cups your jaw, tilting your face toward him.

“Open up again, baby,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Gonna fuck this pretty mouth while he eats you out.”

You part your lips on instinct, still so sweet, so pliant and he slides back in. Not gentle this time. He pushes deep right away, hitting the back of your throat until your eyes water fresh and you gag around him, sloppy and wet. Drool spills immediately, running down your chin, dripping onto Eren’s chest below you.

Toru starts thrusting in, slow at first, letting you adjust, then deeper, harder. One hand tangles in your hair to hold you steady while the other braces on the back of the couch. “That’s it… throat me like a good girl. Fuck, look at you nmgh taking it so sloppy, making such aaah mess.”

Every time he bottoms out you choke. Sweet, wet gurgles that make Eren groan louder into your cunt. The sound vibrates straight through your clit and you buck harder against his face, smearing yourself all over his mouth, his nose, his chin. He doesn’t care. He just spreads you wider with his thumbs, tongue flicking fast over your clit before sucking it between his lips again, relentlessly.

His own hand slips down, his fingers wrapping around his neglected cock, stroking himself in rough, tight pulls while he devours you. The wet schlick of his fist mixes with the filthy sounds of his mouth on your pussy and Toru’s dick sliding in and out of your throat.

You’re caught perfectly between them: hips grinding desperate on Eren’s tongue, throat stuffed full of Toru’s thick length, drool and slick everywhere. Your moans are muffled and broken, vibrating around him every time Eren licks that perfect spot inside you with his tongue.

Toru’s hips stutter, breath hitching. “Fuck… gonna cum soon if you keep choking on me like that, baby.”

Eren pulls back just enough to growl against your folds, words muffled but clear. “Not yet. She comes first. Then we both fill her up.”

He dives back in, sucking your clit hard, tongue flicking merciless while his fingers dig into your ass, spreading you even wider so he can bury his face deeper.

You’re trembling, thighs quaking, so close it hurts.

Toru fucks your mouth faster. Shallow,  sloppy thrusts that make spit drip down onto Eren’s abs.

Eren strokes himself harder, hips bucking up into his fist like he can’t help it.

They’ve got you right there teetering, dripping, stuffed full and theirs.

Just a little more.

And you’re going to shatter.

It hits you like a wave you can’t outrun.

Eren’s tongue is relentlessly sucking your clit in hard, pulsing pulls while his fingers dig into your hips, holding you down so you can’t escape even if you wanted to. Your thighs lock around his head, whole body seizing as the pressure snaps. You cum hard shaking. Cries muffled around Toru’s cock, hips grinding down messy and desperate onto Eren’s face. Slick floods his mouth; he drinks it up greedily, groaning deep vibrations straight into your core that drag the orgasm out longer, sharper, until you’re sobbing with it.

Your cunt pulses around nothing, clenching on air, dripping down his chin, his neck. He doesn’t stop licking, not even when you’re twitching and oversensitive. Just softer laps now, soothing the raw edges while you shudder through the aftershocks.

Toru’s been fucking your throat steady, but the way you choke and moan around him when you come tips him over. He pulls back suddenly. Only the fat, swollen tip still resting on your tongue and strokes himself faster and rough.

“Fuck ngh open wide, baby,” he pants. “Gonna, fuck- give it to you.”

You do. Tongue out, lips parted, eyes glassy and teary from everything staring up at him. He groans low, hips jerking, and comes thick, rope after hot, heavy rope painting your tongue white. It’s so much it spills a little at the corners of your mouth before you can catch it all. Warm and salty, thick enough that it clings n pools heavy in the center of your tongue.

He milks the last drops out with slow strokes, smearing the tip across your lips like he’s marking you.

“Don’t swallow it yet, pretty girl,” he murmurs, voice wrecked and soft all at once. “Need to see it first.”

You stay like that, kneeling between them, thighs still trembling from Eren’s mouth, mouth full of Toru’s load. Eren finally eases you up just enough to sit back against the couch arm, pulling you half into his lap so you’re still facing Toru. His hands slide up your sides, possessively, while he watches with dark emerald, hungry eyes.

Toru steps closer. Cups your jaw gently but firm, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth where a little escaped.

“Show me,” he says.

You part your lips slowly, careful not to let any spill. Your tongue coated, its thick, pearlescent-white, his cum sitting heavy and pooling in the middle, strings of it connecting to the roof of your mouth when you part wider. It’s obscene. Beautifully yours.

Toru exhales shaky. “Fuck… look at that. All for us.”

He reaches in, two long fingers sliding past your lips, pressing into the warm pool of his own release. He stirs it lazy, coating his fingertips, feeling how thick and sticky it is while you whimper softly around the intrusion. Your eyes flutter, lashes wet.

Then he pulls his fingers out, glistening, dripping, and brings them straight to his own mouth. Sucks them clean and slow, tongue swirling around the digits, tasting himself mixed with the faint sweetness of your spit. His eyes never leave yours, cerulean eyes a hint darker and possessive, like he’s claiming every part of this.

“Sweet,” he murmurs against his fingers. “But not as sweet as you’re gonna taste when we both fill that pretty cunt next.”

Eren’s hand slips between your thighs again, fingers brushing your still-throbbing clit, making you jolt.

“Our turn to mark you inside,” Eren growls low against your ear, nipping the lobe. “Gonna stuff you so full you’ll be leaking us for days.”

You’re still holding Toru’s cum on your tongue, thick, warm and waiting.

Toru leans down, kisses the corner of your mouth softly.

“Now swallow, baby,” he whispers. “Take all of me… then we’ll give you both.”

Your throat works. You swallow slow, feeling it slide down, warm and heavy while they watch like it’s the hottest thing they’ve ever seen.

And when your lips part again, empty now, Eren’s already shifting you, lining himself up.

They’re nowhere near done.

Not even close.

Eren’s hands are already on your hips the second you finish swallowing, rough palms sliding up your sides, guiding you with that same possessive grip he’s always had but never let loose like this. He pulls you forward until you’re straddling his lap, knees sinking into the couch cushions on either side of his thighs. Your arms loop around his shoulders automatically, fingers digging into the back of his neck, forehead dropping to rest against his as you try to catch your breath.

He’s hard again, thick and flushed, leaking at the tip from stroking himself while he ate you out. The head nudges against your soaked entrance, slicking itself in your arousal without even trying. You whimper at the contact, hips twitching forward on instinct.

“Easy, baby girl,” Eren murmurs, voice low and wrecked. One hand stays clamped on your hip while the other reaches between you, guiding himself right to your opening. “Gonna take me slow and let me feel every inch of this tight little cunt finally wrap around me?”

You nod dumbly and eager, still hazy from coming so hard, and you start to sink down.

The stretch is immediate. Intense. He’s thick enough that your walls flutter and grip around the head the second it pops inside, and you gasp sharply against his mouth. Eren groans like he’s been punched in the gut, head falling back against the couch for a second before he snaps it forward again to watch your face.

“Fuck… look at you,” he breathes. “Taking me so pretty already.”

You keep sinking down slow and carefully, until he’s buried halfway in. Your thighs tremble from the burn of it and that’s when Toru moves.

He’s been right behind you the whole time, silent and patient, stroking himself lazy while he watched. Now he presses in close, chest flush to your back, one arm banding around your waist to hold you steady while his other hand slides down between your spread thighs.

As you take another inch of Eren, Toru shoves two fingers into your dripping cunt right alongside Eren’s cock.

The stretch doubles instantly. Your walls clamp down hard, fluttering wildly around the sudden fullness. You cry out high and broken, head tipping back against Toru’s shoulder.

“Fuck, baby,” Toru whispers hot against your ear, fingers curling deep, pressing against that spot that makes your toes curl. “So tight. So fucking full already and we’re just getting started.”

Eren’s hips jerk up on instinct, pushing deeper while Toru’s fingers thrust in shallow, matching the rhythm. The drag is obscene, Eren’s thick length stretching you open, Toru’s fingers rubbing against him through your walls, slick sounds filling the room every time they move.

“You’ll let me stretch this pretty pussy out too, hm?” Toru murmurs, voice all soft velvet as makes it sounds more like a promise than a threat. He scissors his fingers in slower, spreading you wider around Eren’s cock, making room. “Gonna open you up nice and slow so you can take both of us. Gonna feel so good when I slide in right next to him… gonna ruin this little cunt for anyone else.”

You’re shaking between them, overwhelmed and suffed, dripping down Eren’s shaft and Toru’s wrist. Eren’s mouth finds your throat, sucking a fresh bruise while he bottoms out fully, hips flush to yours. The pressure is insane, Eren’s cock throbbing deep inside, Toru’s fingers still working you open, curling and thrusting until you’re clenching so hard it hurts in the best way.

“Goddamn,” Eren growls against your skin. “She’s gripping me like a fucking vice. Keep going, Toru ngh stretch her more. Wanna haah feel you in there with me.”

Toru adds a third finger in slow and carefully and you sob, nails digging into Eren’s shoulders. The burn blooms into heat, into pleasure so sharp it whites out your vision for a second.

“That’s it,” Toru praises, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Such a good girl. Taking us both already. Gonna fuck you together soon… gonna fill you up until you’re leaking us for days.”

Eren starts rocking up into you with shallow thrusts that make his cock drag against Toru’s fingers with every stroke. You’re so full you can barely think, just feel. Just take.

They’ve got you pinned perfectly, in the front and back, cock and fingers, mouths and hands everywhere.

And they’re only warming you up.

Toru’s fingers are still buried deep, three thick digits stretching you wide around Eren’s cock. When he finally starts to pull them out, slow. Every inch drags against your fluttering walls, against the heavy length already filling you, making you whimper and clench harder around Eren.

You’re shaking in Eren’s lap, arms locked around his shoulders, forehead pressed to his as you try to breathe through the overwhelming fullness. Eren’s hands grip your hips like anchors, keeping you seated deep on him while he watches Toru over your shoulder with those emerald, impatient eyes.

Toru’s voice is low against the back of your neck, lips brushing skin. “Gonna replace these fingers now, baby. Gonna slide right in next to him… gonna make this pretty pussy take us both.”

He shifts closer, chest flush to your back again, one hand steadying your waist while the other guides his cock down. The fat, slick head nudges right against your already-stretched entrance, pressing insistently beside Eren’s shaft. You feel the pressure immediately, hot, blunt, and impossible… fuck- it feels impossible and your breath hitches into a soft, panicked whine.

“Shh,” Toru soothes, kissing the curve of your shoulder. “Relax for me. You’ve been so good… you can take it. Just breathe.”

Eren groans low when he feels Toru start to push, feels the thick head crowding in, stretching you further. “Fuck… yeah, push in slow. Let her feel every inch.”

You’re so wet it helps, slick dripping down Eren’s balls, coating Toru’s tip but the stretch is blinding. Toru rocks forward gently at first, just the head breaching you alongside Eren. Your walls burn, fluttering wildly, trying to accommodate the impossible double thickness. A broken sob tears from your throat; your nails dig crescent moons into Eren’s shoulders.

“Too much?” Eren murmurs against your lips, kissing you soft and messy to distract you. “You’re doing so good, baby girl. Look at you, taking two cocks like you were made for it.”

You whine, embarrassed by the fact of his words. Eren soothes you gently, petting your back with slow strokes, shushing you in his arms.

Toru takes that as a sign to sink in deeper, inch by slow, torturous inch, until he’s buried to the hilt right next to Eren. The fullness is obscene: two thick lengths pressed flush together inside you, walls stretched thin and tremble around them. You can feel every vein, every throb, the way they twitch against each other through the thin barrier of your body.

“Goddamn,” Toru breathes, voice wrecked. His forehead drops to your shoulder, hips flush to your ass. “So fucking tight… can feel him right next to me. Feel how full you are, baby?”

You can’t speak… the words are stuck, you just nod frantically, tears slipping down your cheeks from the intensity. Eren starts moving first. Shallow, careful rolls of his hips that make both cocks drag inside you at once. The friction is electric; every slide rubs them together, rubs against that deep spot that makes your vision blur.

Toru matches him after a moment, pulling back slow while Eren pushes in, then switching. They find a rhythm quick: one in, one out, seesawing deep inside you so there’s never a second you’re empty. The drag is relentless, stretching, filling. Utterly overwhelming.

You’re crying now, soft and overwhelmed sobs into Eren’s neck while your hips start rocking back on instinct, chasing more even though you’re already so full it hurts in the sweetest way.

“That’s it,” Eren growls, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb flicking your nipple. “Ride us, baby. Fuck yourself on both our cocks. Show us how much you love being stuffed like this.”

Toru’s hand slips around to your clit, fingers finding the swollen bud and rubbing tight, fast circles while they keep thrusting. The added stimulation sends sparks up your spine; you clench hard around them both, making them groan in unison.

“Gonna come again?” Toru whispers hot against your ear. “Gonna soak us both? Milk us until we fill this little cunt up?”

Eren’s thrusts get harder, deeper. Hips snapping up to meet yours. “Come on our cocks, pretty girl. Let us feel it. Then we’re gonna pump you so full you’ll be dripping for us so beautifully.”

You’re trembling, teetering, so close again, your body stretched to its limit, clit throbbing under Toru’s fingers, two thick cocks ruining you from the inside out.

They’ve got you pinned, claimed and completely theirs.

And when you shatter this time it’s going to be devastating.

They’re moving in perfect, brutal sync now, Eren thrusting up deep while Toru drives in from behind, cocks sliding against each other inside your stretched, fluttering walls. Every push rubs them together through the thin membrane, friction so intense it makes your eyes roll back. You’re creaming around them. Thick, milky slick coating both shafts, dripping down Eren’s balls and Toru’s thighs with every wet slap of skin on skin.

Your tight walls grip them like a vice, milking desperately as they fuck straight into your cervix, blunt heads battering that deep, sensitive spot over and over. The pressure builds fast, sharp and overwhelming; your tummy bulges visibly with each thrust, the outline of their cocks pressing outward against your lower belly.

Eren notices first. His hand slides down from your hip, palm flattening over the soft swell. He pushes on it firmly, gently and deliberately, right where the bulge is most pronounced.

“Fuck, look at that,” he growls, voice wrecked. “Can feel myself right here… feel how deep we are inside you, baby girl? Stretching her little pussy so wide she’s bulging for us.”

You whimper broken and high, hips jerking between them. The pressure of his palm combined with the relentless pounding sends sparks shooting up your spine. Toru’s hand joins, fingers splaying beside Eren’s, both of them pressing down in tandem as they thrust harder, deeper.

“Gonna make you come like this,” Toru murmurs hot against your ear, teeth grazing the lobe. “Gonna feel you cream all over both our cocks while we kiss your cervix, hm baby want us deep in there?.”

You bite your lip, and it hits you suddenly and violent.

Your whole body locks up, back arching, thighs quaking, a raw sob tearing from your throat as you come harder than before. Walls spasm wildly around them, clenching so tight it drags broken groans from both their throats. Slick gushes out in messy pulses, soaking their cocks, dripping down in thick rivulets. Your vision whites out for a second; you’re shaking, crying, completely lost in the overwhelming fullness and the way Eren’s palm keeps pushing on that bulge, making every pulse of your orgasm feel deeper, sharper.

They don’t stop, can’t stop. They bury themselves to the hilt in one final, synchronized thrust, Eren’s hips snapping up, Toru slamming forward until there’s no space left inside you. You feel them throb, swell, and then they’re coming hard.

Hot, thick spurts flood you at the same time, Eren's cock pulsing deep against your cervix while Toru unloads right beside him, ropes of cum mixing, filling every inch until you’re overflowing. The pressure is insane; your walls flutter helplessly around the double load, trying to take it all but failing beautifully.

Toru pulls back just enough, barely an inch while staying buried deep. His free hand slides down between your thighs, thumb hooking one swollen lip and spreading you open wide. The sight is filthy: your pussy stretched obscenely around both cocks, creamy white cum already leaking out in a fat, slow spurt. It slips from between their shafts thick and pearly dripping down Toru’s length in a heavy trail, coating his balls, pooling on Eren’s thighs beneath you.

“Fuck… look at her leaking us,” Toru breathes, thumb rubbing slow circles through the mess, spreading it over your clit. “So full she can’t even keep it all inside.”

Eren groans low, hips twitching with aftershocks as another small spurt escapes him. His palm stays pressed to your tummy, feeling the faint throb of their cocks still buried deep.

“You’re ours now,” he rasps, kissing your sweaty temple. “This pussy’s marked. Stuffed. Leaking both of us.”

You’re trembling between them overstimulated, full to bursting, cum dripping slow and steady down your thighs. They don’t pull out. Not yet.

They just hold you there, cocks softening slightly but still thick inside, keeping every drop plugged deep while their hands roam lazy over your body.

Claimed.

Ruined.

Theirs.

The room feels heavier now, thick with the smell of sex, sweat, and the faint salt of cum. You’re still straddling Eren’s lap, thighs quivering, body limp and boneless between them. Their cocks are softening inside you, but neither has pulled out yet, just resting there, keeping you plugged full, every tiny shift making a fresh trickle of their mixed release slip out.

Toru moves first.

He eases back slow and carefull, so so gentle, until his cock finally slips free with a wet, obscene sound. A thick gush of cum follows immediately, spilling from your stretched hole, running hot down your inner thighs and dripping onto Eren’s lap. You whimper at the sudden emptiness, walls fluttering around Eren’s length like they’re trying to pull him deeper to compensate.

Toru doesn’t go far.

He leans in close behind you again, chest pressed to your back, arms wrapping around your waist in a loose, possessive hold. His lips find the side of your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses. Trailing up the curve where he’d bitten earlier. Gentle now. Soothing. Each press of his mouth feels like an apology and a promise at once.

“You did so good, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and wrecked. “Took us both so perfect. Look at you… all messy and full of us.” Another kiss, slower, right under your ear. His tongue flicks out to taste the salt there. “Gonna take care of you now. Promise.”

His hands slide up your sides, warm palms smoothing over ribs, petting you like you’re something fragile and precious. One hand cups the back of your neck, thumb brushing the base of your skull while he keeps kissing your throat, your jaw, the soft spot behind your ear.

Eren’s still buried inside you, half-hard, twitching lazily every time your walls flutter. He shifts just enough to sit up straighter, pulling you flush against his chest so your breasts press to him. His mouth finds yours immediately, a slow, deep kiss that tastes like your own slick and his tongue. Lazy. Unhurried. Like he’s savoring every second now that the frantic edge is gone.

One hand slides up to cup your breast, thumb circling the nipple soft and unhurried, teasing it back to a stiff peak. He pinches gently, rolls it between his fingers, then soothes with the flat of his palm. The other hand stays low, splayed over your lower belly where the bulge has softened but you can still feel the faint throb of him inside.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this,” he mutters against your lips, kissing you again, messy and open-mouthed, tongue sliding slow against yours. “All flushed and leaking us. Our pretty girl.”

He keeps playing with your tits, kneading one while he kisses you deeper, then switching to the other, thumb flicking the nipple until you arch into his touch with a soft whine. Every tug sends little aftershocks through your oversensitive body; your cunt clenches weakly around him, milking another small bead of cum that drips out around his base.

Toru’s mouth never leaves your neck, kissing and sucking soft bruises into fresh skin, whispering praise between each press of his lips.

“So sweet… so fucking perfect… ours, baby. All ours.”

Eren breaks the kiss just long enough to murmur against your mouth, “Gonna stay like this a while. Keep you full. Keep you warm.”

His fingers keep teasing your nipple with gentle pinches and slow circles, while Toru’s hands roam your sides, your back, your hips. They’re everywhere and nowhere all at once, soft touches and warm mouths, their low voices rumbling praise into your skin.

You’re boneless between them, head lolling back against Toru’s shoulder, lips parted on shaky breaths, body humming with the quiet afterglow.

They don’t rush.

They just hold you.

Kiss you.

Pet you.

Like they’ve got all night.

Like they’ve finally got what they’ve wanted for so long.

And they’re never letting go.