fukiouh 🌸

“Wha– What are you doing?” He has you fumbling and it only embarrasses you further. “Get off me.”

“Tell me why you’ve been avoiding me or I’ll literally never get off you, in fact… I will only get closer,” one of his hands moves to grab at your waist but you slap him away.

His head weighted on your thighs has you remembering your explicit dream of him and you can’t help but grow a few degrees warmer in temperature. “I can’t tell you.”

Gojo frowns at that and you hate how you’re noticing just how attractive he is even though he’s growing annoyed, “It involves me directly, but you can’t tell me?”

“That’s right,” you cement, like it shouldn’t even be an issue.

He sits up again and stares at you dead on, “Tell me or I’ll tell all our friends about… the incident.”

A small breath of disbelief leaving you, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” his eyes stern, he’s completely serious.

You try bargaining, “It’s not that deep, Satoru… give me another week or two and I’ll be completely over it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“So, you’re blackmailing me?!”

“I wouldn’t call it that, that’s such an ugly word,” he shakes his head.

Your brow raises at him, “What would you call it then?”

“I don’t know but not that,” he shrugs easily.

“You’re so annoying, I can’t believe I even—” you cut yourself off, realising you were about to freely give away that you couldn’t believe you had a sex dream about him. It’s frustrating that it was such a good dream too because he’s so annoying in real life.

Despite you stopping yourself, he clings to your words, “‘You can’t believe you even’ what?”

Playing dumb is your only defence but to be fair, you aren’t entirely convinced you’re playing anymore, “I don’t know.”

He stares at you for a moment before speaking again, “Okay, well, I’m calling it blackmail now, I’m officially blackmailing you.”

“Evil, evil man,” you accuse.

He motions at himself with his hands, dismissing your words, “Mhm, now tell ‘Toru all your problems.”

“Ew,” you grimace at him, “that was almost as bad as when you referred to yourself as ‘daddy’.”

Smirk on his face at your response, “Would you prefer that? I didn’t know you were into—”

“—I said almost as bad!”

“Sure, whatever,” he rolls his eyes, “now tell me what’s going on, I won’t let you wiggle your way out of the main issue at hand.”

“Fine,” you groan, giving in, “but you have to promise to not be weird or make it a big deal.”

His head tilts at you, “What? Like you mean how you’ve been doing?”

“Just promise, stupid,” you grumble at him.

“I promise,” he pauses, “sort of.”

“Seriously?”

“I said I promise, now come on,” he leans in, ready to listen, “lay it on me.”

Ignoring his giddy attitude, you take in a deep breath before carefully letting it out, “Well… the other night, I was sleeping—”

“—Truly groundbreaking stuff.”

“Don’t interrupt me or I will never tell you,” you glare at him.

“My bad,” he raises his hands in surrender.

“Anyways,” your heart is hammering in your chest because it’s so embarrassing to be looking at him as you try to confess. It feels like you’re being crushed under his intense gaze, it’s making you even more nervous.

He must be able to tell you’re working yourself up, “Geez, calm down, sweetheart, whatever it is it’s not that big of a deal.” He moves to pat your head as a means to comfort you, but you flinch away.

And before you can control it, you’re suddenly blurting out, “I had a sex dream about you the other night and now I feel really funny around you.”

The reaction from him isn’t immediate, only blinking back at you for a moment before suddenly turning his head to the side as he tries to hide his laugh but the snort he lets out gives it away. Your lips are downturned as you suffer through the agonising moments of mostly silence, the embarrassment you’d already been feeling growing tenfold at his reaction.

Wordlessly, you rise from the couch and go to walk away, to go away to anywhere but here in this moment. Gojo stops you though, his hand on your wrist pulling you back to the sofa. Now closer to him than you had been before, something you’re overly conscious over. Keeping your head turned from him, annoyed at his reaction and also your lack of tact.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologises, “I’m not laughing at you, I swear.”

“You need to get out of my apartment.”

“Don’t be so harsh,” he whines, “I have follow up questions.”

You pull your wrist from his grasp, still refusing to look at him, “I don’t wanna answer them, you only want to torture me.”

“Not true!”

He tries to get back in your line of sight, but you keep turning your head away. Your arms cross over your chest, almost like you’re trying to shrink in on yourself.

“I’m curious about a few things now though,” he hums at you, “since your reaction to having sex with me has been so cute.”

His phrasing is so poor that it has your head whipping to look at him and his overly pleased expression, “I did not have sex with you.”

“Right, right,” he waves off, “you dreamt about having sex with me.”

“I dislike you so deeply right now.”

“If you agree to answer my questions, I will literally never bring up the fact that you had a wet dream about me ever again.”

You point at him angrily, “It was not a wet dream! What the hell is wrong with your phrasing of things?!”

He smiles sweetly as he grabs your finger, using the hold he has on you to unfurl your hand and loop your fingers together to hold hands, “Are you gonna answer my questions or not?”

“If I do… you’ll never speak about this again, right?” You try pulling your hand from his but his hold on you is firm.

“Sure,” he agrees all too easily.

You glance down and away from him, “Fine.”

“Perfect!”

And at his incredibly joyful tone, you can’t help but feel like you’ve made a misstep somewhere along the way. Maybe you shouldn’t have told him… or maybe you should’ve concealed your reactions more effectively… or better yet, your stupid brain shouldn’t have conjured the image of you and him having sex to begin with.

Glancing at your interlocked fingers, you ask, “Can you let go of my hand now?”

“Why? Is it making you uncomfortable?” His tone isn’t upset or accusatory, only curious.

Sighing at him in response, “I’m embarrassed to even look at you right now, of course it’s making me uncomfortable.”

He, thankfully, releases his grip on you. Choosing not to taunt you any further but you have a feeling it’s only a small reprieve. Just as your heartrate is finally calming, he asks, “Was I good?”

You’re completely taken aback, knowing what he’s asking but still confused by his bluntness, “What?”

“Was I good?” He repeats shamelessly. “I’d be a little offended if I weren’t.”

If you have to answer his ridiculous questions then you’re going to be purposefully vague, “You were… fine.”

He hums thoughtfully, “You won’t even look me in my eyes, and you said you’re feeling funny around me so I was either horrendously bad or really great, which is it?”

“I don’t like your questions,” you grumble at him.

“I wanna know though,” he whines, “It’s your fault for being so weird about it.”

Your body droops into the couch, head resting against the back of it, “A normal person and good friend would take this information at face value and let me live quietly with my shame.”

“I disagree,” you can feel his eyes on you, but you still won’t look at him, your own eyes closed. He continues on, “I’ll let you live quietly after you tell me everything I want to know… probably.”

You squint your eyes open at him, “There is literally nothing in this for me, you’re blackmailing this information out of me.”

He grins at you, “Are you saying you’d respond better to positive reinforcement?”

“I’m saying I’m still reluctant to answer your embarrassing questions and it’s starting to feel like if I do, I’m only giving you future blackmail material.”

“This is untrue, I’m blackmailing you, yes but I also agreed to never bring it up again if you answer my questions.”

“Oh my god!” this is getting annoying, steeling your nerves, you decide you’re just going to answer everything so you can end this quickly, “You were good, it was a good dream.”

A stupid and happy smile takes over his face, you don’t bother reading too far into it. “You said you were feeling ‘funny’, what do you mean by that?”

“Huh?”

“Funny could mean any number of things, I’m asking for specifics here,” he’s still too happy and it’s annoying you because you don’t really understand why.

“Hmm, like…” you look at him intently to better think about how you feel, your heart fluttering as you do, causing you to close your eyes as if you’re in thought, “…I feel embarrassed to have had a dream like that about you.”

He pushes back on your answer, “That’s all?”

Cracking an eye open at him as you chirp, “Yep.”

His gaze is already trained on you, apparently never having stopped looking at you, “You’re such a bad liar.”

You deflate at your failed deception, “I think we’ve just known each other too long…”

“You’ve always been a bad liar though?” He claps his hands together suddenly and it makes your heart skip a beat, “Now, out with it.”

Quiet as you start your explanation, “Every time I look at you…” he nods his head as if to encourage you, “…I think about the dream and it makes me feel funny, that’s all, can you leave me alone now?”

His lips purse as he mulls over what you’ve just said, “You sure you’re not just horny?”

“Satoru!” you chastise him, shocked and also frustrated that he’s pretty much hit the nail on the head. Ever since your dream you can’t help but look at him differently. Mind feeding you images of what having sex with him might be like—what having sex with him was like.

“I’m being genuine.”

“That makes it worse,” kicking your legs a little about it all.

He starts giggling, “You had a dream about getting fucked by me so good that just being around me turns you on.”

“Stop!” you move to sit in front of him properly, face clearly unhappy, “I did not say that.”

“You basically did,” he dismisses, “So… what did I do to you?”

It’s a bit ridiculous that he’s going in this direction, but you should’ve known he was going to do this. You need to shut him down because just his words alone are affecting you more than you care to admit, “I’m done answering your questions.”

It’s his turn to groan and grumble, “Aww, but it was just getting good.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you say with the intention of ending this interaction, “Satoru… It doesn’t matter what you did in my dream because there’s no way you’d be that good in real life.”

The smile on his face drops, “I can’t help but take that personally.”

“Take it how you will,” you shrug, “there’s no way you could live up to the dream version of you, it’s not logical.”

“Wanna find out?”

“Don’t be childish,” you brush him off, overlooking the way those words send a shock through you.

He pushes, “Treat it like an experiment, I wanna know what’s better.”

Blinking back at him, “You’re so weird.”

Quickly pointing out, “Maybe, but you’re the one who dreamt about fucking this weirdo.”

“Yeah, dreamt, it was a dream.” You shake your head in disbelief at him, “Why are you acting like you’re jealous of dream you?”

“Maybe I am jealous of dream me.”

“That’d be stupid.”

“You’re always telling me I’m stupid.”

Gojo’s eyes keep flitting to your lips every time you speak, the look in them suddenly much darker than the glee that was held in them when he was teasing you earlier. Trying to be stern but not entirely convincing when you state, “I’m not going to have sex with you for a reason as stupid as that, grow up.”

“But you’ll have sex with me for a good reason?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth,” you tilt your head at him in exasperation, “why are you even acting like this?”

Ignoring your question and instead posing his own, “You sure you’re not curious, not even a little bit?” His hand cups the side of your face, his thumb pulling down on your lower lip, “I know I am.”

That simple touch has your heart leaping bounds, suddenly so hyper aware of how deep the effect he has on you is. It scares you, how much you want him, how much you want to say yes. You shouldn’t get carried away, he’s being ridiculous, this is all so ridiculous. Your years long and best friendship could be ruined because of this moment.

All things you’re worried about, all valid concerns, all thoughts that slip from you so quickly when he leans in and licks teasingly at your lower lip. The gasp you let out is his entrance into your mouth, his lips plush and demanding against yours. Eyes falling shut as you let yourself get lost in his kiss, full and delightful and something you’ve never felt before.  

It’s messy and uncoordinated, like he’s not really focusing on how to kiss you and more on the fact that he gets to kiss you. You’re getting dizzy, body buzzing pleasantly at how he sucks on your tongue. String of saliva keeping your lips connected when he pulls back, snapping as he wipes his lower lip with his thumb, only to then push it into your mouth. Your immediate response to suck, feeling depraved but enjoying the look on his face you get when you do.

He speaks under his breath, eyes a little dazed, “Fuck.”

As soon as your tongue licks against the tip of his thumb, he’s pulling it from your mouth and hurriedly slotting his mouth over yours again. Barely giving you a moment to think before he’s kissing you so completely, consumed by his need and the delicious way he partakes in your lips.

It’s so overwhelming, to be desired like this is foreign and has your thighs clenching together. Gaining confidence when you finally wrap your arms around his neck, a move he appreciates if his groan and grabby hands are anything to go off of.

The way he parts from you is full of huffed and short breaths that only ends in him kissing you again, like he’s fighting with himself to say something, to do something more but ending up not strong enough to move on from your lips.

A pathetic moan that you don’t even recognise as your own leaving you, the sound only spurring Gojo on. Using his body to push against yours until your back is on the couch, not bothering to explain what he’s doing, far too busy and far too fixated on how you taste.

Filled to the brim with thoughts about how good his kiss is, how kissing can’t possibly be this good, how you’d let him do more. Fingers threading through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp in a way that pulls a shudder from him.

What feels like far too soon he’s properly pulling back, quickly putting distance between you both so he’s not immediately gravitating back. Arms holding himself up, hovering over you, taking his sweet time to appreciate the look on your face. Pride exuding from him at what he’s reduced you to with a few kisses.

“Stop staring, Satoru,” your voice comes out more whinged and unfortunate than you were hoping.

“No.”

It’s a simple response, one that’s weighted with meaning and intention. Maybe if you weren’t only concerned with how good of a kisser he is, of how you want more, of how he looks indescribably good over you, you’d ask him why he’s acting this way. Maybe you’d even ask what this means for your friendship but when you’re in this deep and enjoying it this much, thinking that deep slips from you all too easily.

“I’m gonna touch you,” his gaze wanders over your body before looking back to you, “okay?”

Already nodding back at him, “Okay.”

And only when you verbally affirm him does he let his greedy hands travel your body, sitting back on his knees so he can grope at your thighs and hips. You can tell he’s enjoying your squirming immensely, eyes simultaneously lidded low and lit up.

Quickly glancing to meet your eyes when he asks, “What did I do to you?”

It takes your brain a second to catch up to his words, stuck on his big hands resting against your hips, his fingers digging into your plush skin. “You mean…”

“In your dream,” he slips into your waistband and starts to slowly pull your pants off, “what did I do to you in your dream, sweetheart?”

You feel your skin heat, his fingers tickling against your thighs. “I’m not answering that.”

A low hum sounds from him as your pants are finally removed and tossed to the side, “Why not?”

Keeping your legs together, self-conscious of the fact you’re in your underwear below him. Though he’s not bothered at all, groping and massaging at your thighs, “What happened in that dream is private.”

“That hardly seems fair,” his eyes bore into your own, “since I was there and all.” Paying no mind to your small protests as he manoeuvres one of your legs to rest against his side, feeling much more exposed now that he’s spread your legs.

“Satoru, you can’t just!– mmph—”

Further protesting cut off abruptly when he places his palm on your lower stomach, thumb drawing over your covered slit. His touch there was unexpected but not unwelcome, small shocks of pleasure thrumming through you.

“Did I use my fingers?” he keeps stroking your cunt, touch light and nowhere near enough to satisfy. “How about my mouth?” pausing to blatantly stare at your pussy, not even really addressing you when he adds, “please tell me I used my mouth,” his last words come out pitchy, almost like he’s begging for it to be true.

“I don’t know,” you’re feeling overwhelmed, head foggy, “I can’t remember.”

“I don’t know why you keep bothering to lie to me,” he murmurs low, using both thumbs to pull apart your folds, pressing into your hole only to be stopped by the material of your panties.

His action has you shooting up, face to his chest, your hands grab onto his shirt and all he does is chuckle at you. “Stop playing with me,” you huff at him.

Leaning down, he drags his lips over your skin gently. Leaving behind soft kisses all over your neck and chest, blowing air by your ear just to make you twitch. Voice almost a whisper when he asks again, “What did I do to you?”

“You’re embarrassing me,” you look through your lashes at him.

His smile is pleased, “Yeah, well, you’re turning me on.” Grabbing you by your hips and pulling you into his lap, your cunt pressing right into his erection, “Feel that?” He can’t help the way he gives small grinds into you, your warmth too enticing, “All your fault, so tell me what I did to you.”

The grinds he’s giving you feel too good, he’s big and so hard and couldn’t he just, “Can’t you just put it in?”

He laughs airily, surprised by your need and shifted focus, “I think you can feel enough to know that I can’t.”

“You were nicer to me in my dream,” you pout at him.

“Somehow, I doubt that—” his head drops back and a soft groan leaves him, getting lost in how you’ve started to rut down into him.

Thinking back to your dream, you decide to mention, “You did.”

Distracted reply coming from him, “Hmm?”

“Use your mouth, I mean—”

Just as you’d gotten the words out, he’s pushing you flat on your back again, not even pausing to think as he pulls your panties off in one movement. Settling between your thighs impatiently, eyeing up your cunt, “You been holding out on me.”

Your legs thrown haphazardly over his broad shoulders, “Wait just a sec—”

“—Why?” Tongue already hanging from his mouth and hovering over your pussy, just about drooling onto it.

The sight of him has your brain rebooting, “No– nothing.”

Keeping his eyes intently on you when he licks your whole pussy, smiling at how your mouth drops opens and hips squirm, “You’re cute.”

“You– you’re– hnn—” you don’t get to retort properly, his tongue flicking at your clit each time you try to say something.

“Mhm,” he’s enjoying this, you can tell, his tone too amused. “You’re so wet, practically begging for me to put my mouth on you.”

And then he shoves his tongue inside you, holding your hips down so he can fuck you with it. Delighting in the moans tumbling from your lips, cunt syrupy sweet and begging for him to stuff it full. Swallowing down all you have to give him, shudders running down his spine as his cock jerks in his pants. He’s been horny ever since you admitted to having had a sex dream about him. And if he’s being completely honest, maybe since he had his head in your lap.

It feels a little cruel that you kept it from him for so long, he would’ve gotten on his knees for you the second you asked him to. Groaning into your pussy when your hole tightens around his tongue, pressing his face closer to you. Nose stimulating your clit with how desperate he is to taste your cunt.

He’s messy in how he’s devouring you, sloppily making out with your pussy. Small groans leaving him as he relishes in it, like he’s getting just as much out of this as you are. It’s too good, back arching and thighs fighting to close, held open by his wide frame between your legs. This is the first time someone has gotten you so close so quickly, it’s almost embarrassing how easily he’s about to make you cum.

Gojo knows you’re close, it excites him, he wants your cum in his mouth, he wants to feel how you shake underneath him. But there’s something wicked inside him that wants to tease you a little more. Choosing instead to wait until you’re just about to finish before suddenly pulling back.

You whine at him, eyes wet when you look at him in confusion. He only smiles back at you, tongue licking his lower lip before he asks innocently, “I forgot to ask, did you cum like this?”

Brain taking a moment to catch up before realising he’s still asking about that damn dream, “I don’t– I think so?”

Pressing open mouthed and wet kisses over your inner thighs, remarking, “Not very memorable, was it?”

Somehow, it feels like he’s trying to compete with his dream counterpart, and the thought is just ridiculous. “It was very memorable,” you’re only hoping to be a little teasing but by the look in his eyes he takes it personally. Opening his mouth wide and chomping down onto your thigh, biting you enough to nearly break skin. You jump at the shock, “Hey!”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your skin, licking over the impression of his teeth before pressing a kiss to it, “try remembering this instead, yeah?”

It’s a little bit cute of him to be so jealous of your dream, “You’re stupid.”

He knows he’s stupid, he’s all too aware of it but that changes nothing to him, “I’d be more careful with your words if you wanna cum,” blowing air onto your clit, reminding you of how close you were.

“Satoru…” you don’t really like how he’s got you backed into a corner right now.

He hums in acknowledgement at you, “Need something?” Head leaning against your thigh as he smiles smugly up at you.

How frustrating of him, to know exactly what you want but choosing not to give it to you for his own enjoyment. “You’re a tease,” you huff at him.

“Hmm… not usually,” his hand slides up your inner thigh, single digit slipping inside your hole, “I think that’s something you bring out of me,” pleased with the small sounds you let out at his finger stuffing you.

Gasped moan leaving your lungs, trying to tell him how unbearable he is, “You’re– hnn!—”

A sound of awe leaving him as he drags his finger out, “How obscene, you really are so fucking wet.” He says it like you should be ashamed of yourself but he’s smiling too big, eyes full of loving obsession. Clearly incredibly happy with how dripping and soaked your cunt is, “Basically drooling for it, sweetie. How embarrassing~”

You might have to kill him because he really is embarrassing you. Hell, it was already embarrassing doing this with your best friend and now he’s teasing you for his own sick pleasure, “Stop…” not able to help the completely pathetic look on your face, “…stop being so mean to me.”

Gojo feels his heart drop and then start beating a million miles an hour, you’re so cute that he can’t help but breathlessly laugh, “My bad, will making you cum make up for it?”

“Yes,” you assert.

Ah, his head is spinning, you might be too much for his poor heart to handle. He can’t bear having you upset with him though, pressing soft kisses to your pussy lovingly. It’s as if he’s apologising for being so cruel to you, deepening his kiss to your cunt by stuffing you full of his tongue again.

The way you twitch and moan under him really does drive him wild, how he’s going to stay sane while fucking you is beyond him. Lapping at your sopping cunt so devotedly, eyes dazed and pussy drunk as he watches how your eyes roll and brows pinch. Giggling to himself at how surreal it is to be tongue deep inside you, to have you this needy for him.

When he suddenly pushes your legs back, you squeak. Damn near folded in half and bent for him, “Satoru, you can’t just– mmph!—”

He doesn’t grace you with the kindess of listening properly, simply going back to eating your pussy like it’s his last meal. The way he’s holding you is pornographic in nature, a position you’ve never even thought to be in, and he’s easily manhandled you into it. Lower back no longer even touching the couch, held up by Gojo.

With how he’s positioned you now, all your dewy slick and his saliva slides from your cunt and drips crudely onto your poor couch. Head dizzied as he gets you closer and closer to finishing, building you up so much faster after the loss of your last orgasm.

“I– ah!– so close– mmph—” you don’t want him to stop, hand holding onto one of his on your hip tightly, begging that he doesn’t pull away again.

Lucky for you, he desperately wants you cumming for him. He barely brought himself to deny you the first time, there’s no way he could do it a second. Completely and whole heartedly dedicated to making your pussy cream for him, salivating at the thought alone.

Moans you don’t even register pulling from your lungs as he finally pushes you over the edge, hips shaking as you try to ride out your own high with little success. The position you’re folded in keeping you at his mercy. Orgasm feeling oh so sweet after he denied you, lashes fluttering as it washes over you.

Gojo hums happily into your pussy, drinking down all your creamy slick and then still not parting from you. Too addicted to your scent, to your taste, ignoring all rationality as he keeps licking and sucking at your cunt. Whining when your weak fingers dig into his hair and pull him back by force, shaking underneath him from how he’s nearly forced you into overstimulation.

“Too much,” your voice trembles with your words.

His lower face is a complete mess of you and you’d feel bad but the stupid smile and dazed look he’s wearing tells you that you don’t have to. “You got a great pussy,” he compliments, moving his thumbs so he can lewdly pull your cunt wider for his greedy eyes.

“Ah!– stop staring, have you no shame?”

Eyes flicking to yours when he states seriously, “None.”

You’re feeling far too exposed in this position, “Can you let me move—”

Ignoring you and instead musing aloud, “—How many fingers do you think you could take?”

“What?”

“Your hole was tight around my tongue so maybe only one?” Slipping a single finger inside you and stroking against your walls. Your back fights to arch and a soft mewl sounds from you, “ahh, that’s a nice reaction. Let’s stretch you out yeah?”

“You’re so– hnn!—” barely biting out, “You’re such a pervert.”

His head tilts at you, “Did you expect anything else?”

Managing to babble out, “Weren’t so– hah– perverted– hnn– in my dream– mmph—”

“I take pride in that,” his chest vibrates with his words. Of course he takes pride in it, why wouldn’t he? Stuffing another finger inside your snug cunt and scissoring them, trying to open you up enough to be able take him, “This sweet pussy might fucking kill me, I don’t know how you’re gonna take me.”

Could he have a bigger ego? “Don’t be ridiculous– hah!—”

“I’m not just being cocky, sweetie.” Fingers brushing up against so many spots you can never quite reach on your own, “You might actually struggle to take it all.”

Eventually giving you a third finger, spread wide around his digits and leaking into the palm of his hand. He’s got you a squirming and moaning mess under him, mind melting from the mouth-wateringly sinful way he’s playing with you.

“Satoru– hnn!—”

“Something wrong?”

Now he knows damn well… “Please, just– hah—”

He laughs at your whimpered neediness, completely aware of how bad you want him inside of you. “Being real cute right now.”

“Don’t—”

“—Don’t what?” Using his fingers to tease your most intimate spots.

“‘Toru– hnn– please,” lower lip wobbling as you pout at him, “I want you…”

That’s not fair, you’re not playing fair at all. “You’re evil,” he mumbles at you, cheeks and tips of his ears flushing red with how turned on he is, “but I’ll give you what you want, since you’re so adorable.”

Thick fingers drawing from your cunt, the loss of him pulling a whine from you; it makes him smile. You’re genuinely so pathetic right now and aside from how horny it’s got him; it’s also got his heart stuttering in his chest.

“Take your shirt off,” he points at you, letting you finally lower your bottom half to the couch.

Grumpily following his instruction, feeling especially docile right now, “You’re being too bossy.”

His words come out a little muffled as he pulls his own shirt off, “Your pouting would have more effect if you weren’t also listening so well.”

“Maybe I’ll stop listening then.”

He stands from the couch to tug down his pants and boxers, brows drawn together and head tilting, “When you’re this close to finally taking it all?” Holding the base of his hard cock, tone smug.

Embarrassed for yourself at how your cunt throbs for him, desperate in a pitiful way that you’ve never imagined yourself being over him or anyone. “Are you in any position to be this big of a tease?”

“For you? Always,” he taps your thigh and leans onto the couch again, “now spread your legs for me.”

Already opening up to give him room before really thinking twice on it, hating that you’re this willing to follow his instruction. His hands on you are gentle, almost reverent in how they trail along your inner thighs.

Gojo can’t help himself, touching you as much as he can, wanting to prolong this whole experience. Your skin so soft and delicate under his touch, fingers digging into your flesh just to see proof of him touching you. Completely bare and willing under him, heart hammering in his chest at this fact.

Dragging his cock through your sopping wet pussy, shivering at just how gooey your cunt is. Not intentionally trying to torture you but doing so anyways, squirming and impatient under him the more he plays with you.

“Satoru,” voice pitchy, “please.”

Not moving immediately, only cursing as he gazes at you all lost.

You wrap a single leg around his waist and pull him forward, encouraging, “C’mon.”

Smug expression suddenly back on his face, “Alright, here we go,” tapping at your entrance a few times first. “Ohh, biiig stretch,” word drawn out and provocative as his cock head slowly slips inside you.

Big stretch is fucking right, chest squeezing as you struggle to adjust. Hands gripping onto his biceps for dear life, needing to be grounded.

One of his hands reach out and strokes against your head, you keen into his touch and he chuckles. Leaning down to whisper, “You need to breathe, sweetheart.”

His hips have stopped moving forward but it hardly seems like it, already feeling obscenely full. “H–how much– hnn– more?”

Gojo dips his head down to look at where your cunt is bulging around him, teeth digging into his lower lip as he stifles a strained laugh, “Not much at all.”

“Are you lying?” Unable to help the way your lip wobbles a bit with your question.

“Yeah,” he thrusts just a little bit more into you, “but you’re doing so well, feel fffucking fantastic.”

You’re clawing at his shoulders, feeling like you’re being stretched to your limits, “Why– ah!– why is it so big?” Somehow, you feel annoyed at him for it.

“I’m God’s favourite,” is how he chooses to reply, ego growing tenfold at how you’re falling apart just from the shallow thrusts he’s delivering.

How the hell are you meant to take all of him, “How– hah– how much?”

He can’t take his eyes off how you’re sucking him in, hands gripping your hips and thumbs drawing circles into your skin soothingly, “Why don’t you just watch for yourself?”

You shake your head at him, eyes scrunched shut, “No.”

“And why not?” Still, he’s feeding you more of his cock, your pussy pulsing around him making him dizzy, “It’s a good fuckin view.”

“Don’t– hnn– don’t torment me.”

Blinking your eyes open to give your best glare, it only comes across half hearted. Completely taken with the look on Gojo’s face, flushed pink with his pupils blown wide, teeth digging into his lower lip again to stop from whining. Eyes flicking to yours and he’s completely melting when seeing just how pathetic you are under him, moan stumbling from his lips so suddenly that it takes him by surprise.

He's just as big of a mess as you and it has your cunt positively creaming around him, turned on by the fucked out horny look on your best friends’ face. Gojo shudders at your pussy getting slicker around him, his dick jerking inside you.

“Getting this– hah– wet over your best friend…” fucking his hips quickly, pelvis now flush to yours, “…how shameless of you.”

You’re quivering around him and writhing under him, the feeling of being completely stuffed full overwhelming on its own. His taunting cruel and mocking and unfortunately turning you on that much more, upset that you’re letting him get away with it.

Lips downturned when you fire back, “You’re more shameless– hnn– pervert.”

Gojo can only be charmed by your weak insult, especially since he’s pretty sure you’re unaware of how your hips are twitching under the weight of his hold. Fighting upwards for the hope of getting fucked but kept frustratingly still by him. Your neediness has piqued his interest, now wondering how long he can stay still until you’re shedding tears out of pure frustration. Quickly growing addicted to the idea of teasing you like this.

He's so still it’s driving you crazy, able to feel his dick twitching inside you, veins throbbing against your sensitive walls. Obviously wanting it just as bad as you but still not moving, shifting one of your hands to tap at his on your hip, gaining his attention.

Eyes on his, “What are you waiting– mmph– for?”

God, the look on your face is killing him, so sweet under him. It’s almost like you’re coming apart already, his hands dig into your thighs and it has you keening under him. Pitiful whine leaving you as your hips start grinding into him quickly, trying to alleviate some of the desire you’re feeling.

“Now why on earth…” he straightens his back up more, pulling your lower half up with him, not giving the chance for his cock to slip from you, “…are you this touch starved?”

“Huh?” it’s the only response you’re capable of giving, having finally seen just how he’s shoved inside you. Cunt stretched obscene around his fat dick, dripping happily and syrupy sweet around him. Chest fluttering at the shock and excitement.

“I’m so sorry for not noticing, sweetie,” he coos at you, “I would’ve helped you if you’d told me.”

Complaining back at him, “I am not touch starved.”

“You definitely are,” he trails his hand from your hip, up your side, just to show you how you twitch into it, “it’s okay though, I’ll take good care of you.”

Pussy shivering involuntarily around him, giving away that you’re lying. How he managed to know you were deprived, you have no idea but the fact he did is embarrassing to you. He doesn’t need to be aware of how long it’s been since you were last touched so intimately.

“I—”

“—Don’t bother lying again,” he keeps caressing you where he can reach, “I’d much rather hear about how much you like when I touch you.”

Maybe he’ll start moving if you’re honest, “I like when– hah– you touch me,” pouting slightly and barely fighting off the shudder running down your spine at his touch.

“Good,” he smiles at you, all glib, “‘Cause I’m gonna touch you. Lots.”

Eyes sparkling at him, hoping, “Does that mean you’re– ah– hnn– actually going to fuck me now?”

“Why?” his head tilts at you, “Do you want it?”

Giving your best glare back at him, he’s proven to you sufficiently by now that he can read you incredibly well, much to your dismay. Muttering out, “Dream you was– hah– much more indulgent of me.”

“Ouch,” though he says that, he doesn’t seem hurt at all, “Dream me was a fool then ‘cause you’re much more fun to play with like this.”

He’s being so evil, “Can’t you just give me what I want?”

“I might,” his gaze is lecherous as his eyes rake over your body, “if you ask for it properly.”

“Satoru…” you try to call out to him as sweetly as possible, “…please fuck me?” lip quivering slightly as your neediness bleeds through your façade of togetherness, “please?”

Gojo’s heart squeezes in his chest, he’d planned on tormenting you a little more but he’s not sure he’ll be able to keep his sanity any longer. Already he feels like he’s a second away from cumming, caught between wanting to give you everything you want and teasing you until you cry. He guesses he’ll just have to settle for fucking you until you cry this time, next time, he promises himself he’ll tease you properly next time.  

“Satoru?”

Your voice breaks him out of his reverie, grin back on his face, “I heard you, pretty. I’ll give you what you want.”

Dragging his cock from you slowly, so slowly, the heavy weight of him pulling out driving you up a wall, insides shuddering. Broken and gasped moans leaving you, rushing out quick, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, oh—”

The laugh that leaves him is too attractive, amused by your gratitude for something like this. It’s cute how the thank-yous just keep tumbling from your lips over and over as he keeps pulling back to the tip of him.

“Don’t thank me for that…” his hands dig into your hips more, “…thank me for this,” slamming into you all at once with his last word.

The wind is completely knocked from your lungs, shocked whine louder than you’d want it to be. Desperately clawing at any part of him you can reach, struggling to take it and keep it together. Feeling like you’re completely melting, head spinning as pleasure thumps through your veins.

“Mmph– I– ahh—” barely coherent as your eyes fight to not roll to the back of your head, “thank hnn– you.”

Small giggle leaving him at just how adorable you’re being, heart hammering in his chest as he sets a consistently mind ruining pace. He can’t wipe the fucked out smile off his face as he keeps pounding into you, giddy with how he gets to have you under him like this.

Babbling varied compliments, “You’re so adorable,” he huffs out a whimper, “hnn– and you’re so fucking tight around me,” less coherent as he carries on, “God, and so fffucking wet– hah– what the– so hot– I—”

He feels insane, how you’re this warm and perfect around him has him at a loss. Almost like you were made just for his cock, something he’ll let himself believe because the idea of you being with anyone but him breaks his heart a little bit.

Hypnotised by how you’re sucking him back in, clinging onto his dick desperately. It’s almost like every time he pulls out, you’re begging him to fuck right back in, and of course he’ll comply. The idea of pulling out before he’s finished with you a painful thought, not willing to give up this moment even if someone walked in on the two of you.

Such a genuine thought, he’s completely certain that someone could walk in on you both and his thrusts wouldn’t even slow down. If anything, they’d speed up, finally he’d get to show off how you’re his. Possessiveness tumbling around restlessly in his head, his dick only getting harder.

All you can do is take it, take all of the jaw slacking and toe-curling pleasure he’s delivering you. Your pussy making obscene sounds as he fucks into you, skin hot from how depraved it all feels. Gojo looks so completely wrecked, eyes glazed over, lips still moving as he continues to mutter out sweet praise. Praise that would probably have your insides flipping and body growing hotter, but you can’t hear anything but your heart thumping in your own ears.

Delirious grin making its way onto his face as he’s struck with a wicked realisation, large hand sliding its way from your thigh to your stomach. Pressing down the littlest bit and watching how you squirm and shudder under him, gasping for breath and hands slapping at him, trying to speak.

“Don’t– hnn– don’t do that– ah!– too much– it feels too—”

“What? Good?” He hisses out, still managing to be taunting.

“It’s too much– hah– mmph– I’m too sensitive,” your eyelashes feel wet, like you might’ve started crying but you can’t even be sure of that right now.

His hand presses down more into your tummy, “I know you are~” he giggles a little, “it’s turning me on.”

“Seriously– hnn– don’t– I’m gonna– ah!—”

He’d completely ignored your pleas causing you to cut yourself off with a moan, orgasm suddenly washing over you. Spasming hot and snug around him, so sinful that he’s shocked by his own high, cumming deep inside you as you shake and shiver around him.

“Ohh, you’re– haah– you’re killing me sweetly,” Gojo’s head feels like it’s spinning, swimming in so much euphoria as he grinds into you.

You’ve slumped under him, trusting him to keep a hold of you, not even thinking to chew him out for making a mess of both your cunt and sofa. Brain feeling all fuzzy and melted in your skull, blissed out from how good you’re currently feeling.

Busy basking in the afterglow when your world is suddenly spinning, Gojo’s taken advantage of your rag-dolled state and flipped you over onto your stomach. Quickly realising that he’s still hard when your hips are being pulled up and his cock is sliding through your folds.

“You gotta stay with me, pretty,” he groans, positioning his tip at your hole, “we’re– hnn– not done yet.”

“Satoru– ah!—”

Both your moans are debauched and loud as he stuffs you so fucking full all at once, lungs seizing in your chest. If he weren’t holding your hips so tight, you would’ve collapsed to the couch. Your fingers dig into the cushions below you, biting back pitiful sounds that so desperately want to leave you.

“Don’t– don’t do that,” he shoves inside you somehow that little bit more, “let me hear you, sweetie.”

Sulking back, “Noo– hah– it’s embarrassing—”

“—It’s arousing,” he counters, skin on fire with how badly he wants to hear you moan for him.

He supposes it’s fine though, he’ll just have to drag those sweet sounds from you himself. Giving sharp and angled thrusts, purposefully driving right into all those delicious spots he found earlier while playing with you. Grinning wide, overly pleased with himself when you squeak out the cutest moan he’s ever heard.

He’s falling apart inside you, wrapped around your little finger and you don’t even realise it. He didn’t even intend to cum earlier, you just felt too good. All sticky cum and clingy walls, he couldn’t help himself.

Able to feel how his cum leaks out around his shaft, hear how your pussy gushes with his cock inside you. He feels borderline feral, something deeply possessive dancing around in his heart at how your cunt squelches around him, stuffed full of his hot semen.

The desire to see his face hits you, remembering just how good he looked as he got lost in how pleasurable everything felt. Whining pitifully below him into the couch, feeling far too shy to tell him how much you enjoy looking at him while he fucks you stupid.

“Satoru– hnn– it’s—” drooling onto the couch as you moan out to him, “it’s good– hah– it’s too good– it’s good~” nearly sobbing with just how damn good it feels.

“I bet,” he chuckles, loving your reaction.

Biting at him, “Hnn– shuddup—”

Easily ignoring you, “Now be honest… what’s better?”

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head; you can’t focus on whatever the hell he’s saying when he’s fucking your gooey sweet spot so perfectly that you’re in bliss.

“Focus,” he fills you completely and stills his hips, refusing to move, “what’s better? This or your dream.”

Cunt so creamy and cock drunk for him, throbbing and pulsing so lovingly on him. He’s a little bit annoyed that he has to stop but he needs your answer. Hips twitching back into him, small noises of frustrated and deprived pleasure slipping from your lips.

He purrs low at you, “If you want me to move then you gotta answer me,” hand smoothing down your back, “you know I will torment you until you do.”

If you weren’t so turned on and delirious you’d recognise it as the bluff it is, he may have been able to torment you earlier, but his patience is barely hanging on by a fucking thread at this point. But you are that turned on and delirious, so instead you answer earnestly, “This, this is better. It’s lots better, now please. Move.”

“There ya go,” he pats your ass a couple times, “such a sweet little thing when you’re fucked full of my fat dick.”

Words meant as a warning but failing to hold any weight, “‘Toru– don’t—”

“—Don’t stress, pretty,” giving you a single thrust, “I’ll give you what you and your pussy are begging me for.”

Your response is smothered into the couch cushions, “Please.”

Groaning a giggle at how you reply, finding it cute that you’re displaying manners you don’t usually bother to with him. You must have it bad for him right now because otherwise you would not be so docile under him.

Fucking into you so you can feel it, really feel it. Intending to pull you apart so perfectly, wanting you to feel this just as much he is. Pelvis smacking into your ass obscenely, admiring the way your back arches for him, damn near presenting yourself to him.

“More– hah—” you stutter out at him, trying to explain what you need, “I want– hnn– I want you to touch me more.”

His eyes close and he intakes a deep breath, controlling himself as he registers your words. Arm reaching around you to pull you up, his chest to your back. He’s pressed so close to you, warm and comforting. You’re keening into him again, relishing how close he is to you, how much of him you can feel. Butterflies dancing in your stomach at how intimate it is and how it’s so much better because of it.

His hands grope at you, your hips, stomach, tits, anywhere he can grab, “Someone’s being greedy.”

Huffing back at him, “Hah– I am not.”

“I wasn’t talking about you,” amused with himself as he breathes into your ear, thrusting desperately into your dripping cunt.

You grab hold of his hands and tug, encouraging him to wrap his arms around you properly. All too easily, he gives into your will, holding you tight. His face tucked into your neck and breathing in your scent, lips delicate as they trace your skin.

Brain hazy and muddled as you babble out your feelings to him, “It’s good– I like your dick– hnn– I like– hah– I like you.” Head turning to the side to press a small kiss to his head.

He’s quick to move so he can capture your lips with his, groaning into it. His dick grows impossibly larger inside you at your small confession, throbbing and leaking inside your tight heat.

Pulling back with a last suck to your lower lip, “Don’t say such sweet things to me, pretty,” tongue licking your ear, teeth nipping you, “or I’ll never leave you alone.”

“You– hah– you– hnn– do that anyways– ah!—”

“I’m about to become much worse,” it’s more of a promise than anything else, you thought of him as clingy before but he’s about to become so so much more worse.

The idea of that alone should probably be less appealing but while stuffed full of his aching cock, you can’t find it in yourself to feel anything other than pathetically whipped for him. Pussy weeping around him, begging for more, for it to never stop.

His dick so deep it feels like he’s in your lungs, spasming around him as your high gets closer and closer. Pleasure climbing up your spine as you melt around him, loving his touch on your body, his breath by your ear.

Gojo moans, head tipping back before he leans forwards again, “You’ve got me obsessed with you, sweetheart,” voice cracking with a whine, “both you– hnn– and this sopping wet pussy of yours.”

Sobbing out your warning, “‘Toru– hah– ah!– I’m gonna cum—”

“Hmm?” his chest vibrates against your back, “Gonna cum because I told you I’m obsessed with you? That’s pretty lewd of you.”

Cheeks wet with your shed tears, “Don’t– hng– don’t tease.”

“Just let yourself enjoy it,” hand pressing into your stomach like he had earlier, “your cunt sure does.”

Long and pitchy moan leaving you, orgasm knocking into you like a tonne of bricks. Trying to curl forward but unable to, Gojo’s arms are firm around you, not letting you go anywhere as he keeps fucking into you. His pace suddenly much quicker as he doubles his efforts from behind, chasing his own high.

It doesn’t take him long at all to follow behind you, face burying into your neck, teeth biting into you as he shudders. Muffled whimpers vibrating against your skin, his hips jerking shallowly, he can’t bring himself to stop fucking into you. You’re too stupid to think about telling him off, not even sure you’re able to process thoughts let alone talk coherently.

Eventually he stills to a complete stop, planting kisses over his bite mark. He doesn’t want to let you go, content to hold you up like this but you’re on the verge of passing out. Gentle in how he lowers you down onto the couch, the pair of you groaning when his cock slips from you. Shared cum connecting his dick to your stuffed hole obscenely, he has to bite his lip to stifle the most pathetic sound at the sight.

While you gather yourself, he kneads your back, his large hands digging into the knots there. The massage nice and calming, helping to soothe your aching muscles after the way he manhandled you to his hearts content. Almost feeling like you could fall asleep like this, feeling so safe and warm under his ministrations.

He leans over to check you, “Stay awake,” fingers brushing against your cheek, “you’re gonna need a shower.”

“No moving,” you protest.

“Yes moving, I know if you fall asleep like this you will be pissed when you wake up,” he brushes down your spine delicately, “and you’ll be pissed at me… which I’d personally like to prevent.”

“Can’t do it.”

“I’ll help you,” he hops off the couch, “Come on.”

Groaning dramatically the whole time as you sit up, standing in front of him with the help of his hands on you. Legs wobbling under you, balance precarious. As soon as you’re on your feet, his cum leaks from your cunt and down your inner thighs. It catches Gojo’s attention who crouches down to get a better look.

“Wooow,” he comments.

Shy at his reaction, “Wh– what?”

He glances up at you and looks deep into your eyes, “I came a lot inside you,” eyes dropping to stare at your pussy obviously, “sorry but this is really turning me on…”

Barely finishing his sentence before his tongue is lolling out of his mouth, head tipping forward to lick up the mess. Mouth swapping sides to travel up each of your thighs, eyes locked onto yours as he does. It’s overwhelming you, feeling beyond embarrassed at the lewd display. His grip the only thing keeping your wobbly legs from completely giving out from under you.

Gojo’s actions are ravenous and simultaneously dazed, somehow both feral and on autopilot. Moaning into your pussy as he licks and sucks your cunt clean, tongue hitting so many over-sensitive places. Your hands dig into his hair to pull him back only to see the completely pussy drunk look in his eyes. If it had been possible, he’d probably have hearts in his eyes, so far gone.

“Stop– hnn– you need to stop,” legs shaking much more now, “too sensitive,” grip more forceful with your last tug.

He pouts back at you, “But you’re so cute when you’re overstimulated.”

Pulling back from you to stand to his full height, smirking down at you. All self-satisfied and also blissed out on the taste of your shared cum. Your tummy is full of butterflies from how he’s been treating you today, legs still weak under you as your knees cave. Thankfully, he’s quick and catches you, effortlessly picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom to wash the both of you up.

Letting yourself be wiped down by him in the bathroom, sitting on the sink as he uses a warm cloth to clean you up better than his tongue could. “I was serious you know,” he says unprompted.

Head fuzzy and a little lost on what he means, “About?”

“I’m obsessed with you.”

α.η. THIS IS A REPOST .. a repost from my old account @/lovelivision, if you feel like you've read it before, maybe you have !

a-knee-wayssss .. i hope you liked it ! i didn't change much about this one since it was basically just pure smut and also i still fucked with it teehee (๑•̀؂ <๑) ✧

You nearly choked on your own spit, “Satoru — ?” He interjected, “Come on, we’ve been practically seeing each other for months now, and you kissed me that one time!”

“That was because you’re unfairly pretty,” you muttered — mostly to yourself.

He moved closer, intertwining his hand with yours, “I’d be a good husband, I promise.” You shook your head, trying to pry your hand away from his, “Satoru, you’re insane. You can’t even blame this on being drunk, you don’t even drink!”

In one swift motion he fell to his knees, “Please?” He whined, clasping both hands together. Groaning, you tried to hoist him up, “Don’t do this here, idiot.”

But he just doubled down, bowing his head and pleading.

“Please! Just one chance? Marry me?”

“Satoru, you don’t even have a ring!”

The white haired man smirked at this, “That wasn’t a no?” You smacked him upside the head, “Of course it was a no!”

The two of you went back and forth for what felt like hours when you finally snapped. “Okay! I’ll make you a deal. Take me on at least three dates then we can talk about dating — happy?”

Satoru pouted, reluctantly getting up from his place on the floor, “I guess it’s something. Three dates and then marriage?”

“No!”

He put his fingers to his chin, stroking an invisible beard before snapping his fingers, “Oh! I got it, the third date is the marriage.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, “Keep this up and you won’t even get a first date.”

You turned to leave but he quickly spoke, “Fiancé says what?”

“What?”

“What?”

And yeah, Satoru had a key too. That's what you get for being the two best fighters from the same gym. Privileges and all. Though you saw it more like a discipline thing, but different people, different opinions. All that jazz.

You rolled your eyes as you took a sip of your water. "Great. I was planning on closing up," you shot back, fiddling with your water bottle. "So, leave. You had enough time till ten."

Satoru looked at you for a second. Then he looked around the gym — the speakers still on, the plyo box still in the middle of the stretching zone, your bag half open by the wall — and back at you.

"Doesn't look like closing up to me."

You opened your mouth to curse him out like usual. Closed it. Not tonight, he is NOT going to ruin your feng shui. Enough that he manages to do that daily during standard training hours.

"Am getting there," you said with great dignity.

He smiled. Not the big performative one he used to annoy referees and opponents and you. The smaller one. The worse one. "Relax, I'll just work around ya. You won't even know I'm here, sweets."

And then he walked past you onto the mat like the conversation was over, which it was not, you had several more things to say, except he'd already dropped his towel over the rack and was rolling his neck and you were suddenly very busy looking at literally anything else in the room.

Never mind then, you would resume your plyo workout, you still had more sets to go before moving to rope jumping and then you'd be off. And he said you won't even know about him, but it's Satoru we are talking 'bout, so you did exactly one and a half jumps and you could feel his pretty, and ANNOYING eyes on you.

You two had rather interesting dynamics. At first you were crushing on him like crazy — okay, the crush might still be ongoing. But that doesn't change the fact that once you got to actually know him, he turned out to be a massive, cocky jerk with an even bigger ego. Though he was a great fighter, easily the best, well the best in the gym and probably in the entire city, you still couldn't stand him and his big puppy eyes. Ugh.

You turned around.

"What."

"Nothing?" He was doing shoulder rolls now, not even looking at you, lying through his teeth. "Dunno what you're talking about."

You glared at him and went back to your own workout, but one jump later and he was still staring a hole through your — not even your head! You could feel his measly eyes on your legs, ass, everywhere. An annoying pervert on top of that.

"Can you, like, stop?"

"I'm not doing anything." His voice laced with lazy amusement, sounding so infuriatingly unbothered, still half turned away.

"You're STARING at me."

Satoru then turned to face you fully and had the absolute nerve to look confused about it. "I'm allowed to look at things. It's a free country. Plus I'm only stretching?"

You blinked at him a few times. He only stared back, looking innocent, fully serene. The most tiresome person alive and he was your rival. Just your luck.

He stopped with his arm stretches as he tilted his head. His damp white hair caught in the artificial lighting and the smirk that crawled onto his face had absolutely no business looking so malicious, so predatory for a late-night gym session.

"Well," he drawled as he took a deliberate step toward the center of the mats. "If you're just going to stand there STARING at me, we might as well roll."

Absolutely the fuck not, your brain screamed. You knew his stats. You knew he had a reach advantage that basically made him a super muscular human spider, and his raw strength was infuriating. Satoru didn't just spar, he dismantled people. You were the person who claimed size difference is never that MUCH of a big deal, but with him you always stood fucking corrected. His six-foot-three frame and his muscular legs were real and unfair and you had brought this up multiple times and he always nodded very seriously and then put you on the mat in under a minute. You had the bruises to prove it on multiple occasions.

So naturally, agreeing to this was a terrible idea. Not because of the power imbalance, just because of his annoying audacity.

"Fine," you heard yourself say.

Competitive streak was a sickness, really. That's why. And you would rather die than back down. Obviously.

You abandoned your tall — okay, moderately tall, okay, manageably tall — plyo box, kicked off your trainers and met him on the mat. Fist bump and stance.

And twenty-eight seconds later, you were staring at the fucking ceiling.

That's all it took. You knew because you were counting, humiliated and furious that you were counting. He folded you like cheap laundry.

Satoru had slipped your initial grip effortlessly, used your own momentum against you, and swept your leg. You had about zero time to comprehend the lack of purchase on your grip and then his arm was hooked under your neck, his hips pinning you in flawless side control, his long legs had yours completely trapped. He was suffocatingly warm.

You slapped the mat three times. "What the fuck, Gojo?!"

Satoru just laughed. Still hovering even as he let you go, close enough that you could still see a few droplets caught in his hairline, and he had the cosmic nerve to look amused.

"Sloppy footwork, sweets."

You furrowed your brow, looking annoyed as you rolled away.

"You good?" He sat back on his heels, checking up on you just in case.

You only glared at him, now more annoyed at yourself than him, as all you could focus on was the scent of his warm skin and his body wash, making your head spin. More than usual.

"Lucky round," you deflected as you stood up, ready to go again. He might have won the fight, but you're not losing the war.

"Then I must have been lucky quite a few months in a row, sweets, but I'll admit," he sighed dramatically, "the size difference makes this a little unfair. Doesn't it?"

But as you answered "duh," something changed in his expression and it was weirdly, infinitely more dangerous than the signature smirk of his before.

Satoru had a plan. A very good plan, a very reasonable plan, a very stupid plan. A very new and dangerous plan that had just flashed right in front of his eyes and had about only two possible outcomes: it working out and finally getting the girl, or him getting his membership revoked and probably even his BJJ registration alongside it. But hey, game is a game. Hate the game, not the player kinda situation.

And you smelled so, so sweet, a mixture of your sweat and whatever body spray you always used. And so forgive him that his horny brain had done something deeply unhelpful, and I'm not going to explain WHAT, and now he was sitting in front of you looking like an idiot.

He cleared his throat, shifting his weight slightly so his knees were drawn up, hiding a bit of obvious evidence of his poorly timed lapse in judgment.

"So, let's make this more fun, more daring? Give you the motivation to whoop my ass," Satoru said. His voice was suddenly a little lower, smooth and entirely too cheeky, and you were already fearing what would come out of his damn mouth.

You chuckled, offended. You didn't need any special rules to want to whoop his cocky ass, but you'd also be lying if you said you weren't intrigued. Or maybe it was just the exhaustion of the day that made you delirious.

And when he explained his oh so fun, more daring rules, he said it like he had not just proposed something completely insane.

"You're disgusting," you sneered, looking around just in case someone heard. No one did. The poor equipment did though — now you'd feel weird walking around your precious and reasonably tall plyo box. "Strip jiu jitsu? What the hell is even that, Satoru?"

Satoru looked around right after you did, sweeping the empty dojo, checking the corners for cameras. He knew Yaga didn't have cameras in here, only at the entrance. You two were the only ones here, so it wasn't even that crazy of an idea. Well, okay, it was. It was a stupidly crazy one, if we're being completely honest, but he just had to shoot his shot — because yes, he was hot, but also only a horny loser, with heavy emphasis on the loser.

"Roll with strip rules." He smiled, and there it was — the absolute worst, most arrogant smirk in his arsenal, the one showing off his little canines. "The loser of the round takes off a piece of clothing."

Every single alarm bell in your head went off at once. You knew exactly what he was doing. This was the most transparent, audacious, thinly-veiled excuse to get you half-naked in the history of the universe. He was an absolute degenerate for not even being able to ask you out like a normal human being. You would say no anyway, trust. You should tell him to go to hell, grab your stuff, and lock up.

"So?"

You hated him. You really, truly did.

The part of your brain that had been training alongside this man for two years, that had never once backed down from anything he put in front of you, that would genuinely rather die than let Satoru Gojo think you were scared of him —

"You're on."

Round One was a bloodbath.

You fought like your actual life depended on it. You were NOT losing your clothes to this absolute degenerate of a man.

Satoru was being infuriating as per usual, playing defense — heavy on the word playing, what a bastard — and clearly holding back just enough to tease you. He was slipping your grips by mere inches, his still-damp hair falling into his eyes as he dodged a sweep.

But then he got cocky, thinking he had you. He shifted his weight too far to the left trying to grab your wrist. But you had operational eyes and saw the textbook mistake, the kind that a guy makes when he's fucking staring at the way your hips are moving instead of focusing enough on his own center of gravity.

So you shot your hips up, locked your legs tightly around his neck, and dragged his arm across your chest, sinking in a picture-perfect triangle choke.

You squeezed, calves burning with the effort, glaring down at him.

Satoru blinked up at you from his trapped position. He didn't even look mad! The jerk actually looked a little too suspiciously proud before his hand came up and tap tap tapped! your thigh three times.

You released him immediately, scrambling back.

"Man, your little perverted game doesn't seem to be going as planned," you teased, pointing a victorious finger at his chest. "Shirt. Now."

Sitting up, he grabbed the hem of his rash guard. And in true Gojo fashion, he took his sweet, deliberate, absolutely criminal time pulling it over his head.

The tight fabric clung to his damp skin, resisting for a beat before he pulled it free and tossed it off the mat.

You tried not to stare at his deliciously carved muscles, the sharp V-lines dipping below his grappling shorts. You really did, but he caught you, and the predatory stupid smile was back in full force.

"Are we going to bump fists for round two or do you need more time?"

You tore your hypnotized eyes away from his abs, crossing your arms. "Shut up and put your hands up, loser."

Round Two went, well, less well.

Every time you tried to establish a grip, your hands slipped against his chest. How were you supposed to grab him when he wasn't wearing anything!

The friction, the disarming heat radiating off him, the way his muscles flexed under your hands — you couldn't really focus. You were cooked from the first ten seconds and you knew it. And worse, Satoru totally knew it too, because he didn't even try to play nice this time.

He was more precise with his movements now, overpowering you with perfect timing, and every hold lasted just a second longer than it needed to. It drove you frustrated and fucking crazy. And when he finally, finally swept your legs and pinned your wrists to the mat, his chest pressed completely flush against your rash guard.

The air left your lungs in a heavy rush. Only because he was obviously really heavy —

Ah. Your old friend. The ceiling.

He hovered, a wicked gleam in those stupidly pretty blues, waiting. You didn't even fight the pin. No point in it. And there went your hopeful plan of not giving up any piece of clothing…

You tapped.

Satoru immediately sat back on his heels, extremely satisfied, crossing his arms. He didn't need to say a word — the expectant, cocky tilt of his head said it all.

You sat up too. Grabbed the hem of your rash guard, pulled it over your head and tossed it to the edge of the mat.

Sports bra. Grappling shorts. That's what was left, and that's what would stay on. The cool gym air hit your heated skin, feeling weirdly exposed.

You lifted your chin, refusing to break eye contact, trying to project unbothered bad bitch confidence. "Happy?"

His eyes were a bit darker than they were a moment ago as they shamelessly dropped from your face to your chest, to your stomach above your waistband, and then slowly back up. Could he be any more obvious? It gave you this weird tingly feeling all over.

"Happy," he said through his lashes, and raised a hand.

You bumped fists.

Round Three meant war.

Something had shifted in the air and you both felt it, the pretense of this being a normal spar completely gone. You were fearing how this session would end, but not necessarily mad about it ending any way. But you were mad about your bruised pride and your rash guard coming off, so you fought sharper this time around. Watching every one of his damn movements like a hawk, turning the anger into focus. One dodge here, one grab there, and you caught him in a rear naked choke with his own momentum and squeezed until he tapped with zero ceremony about it.

Satoru peeled himself off the mat, hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his grappling shorts right away, sighing very obviously fake, and pushed them down, which left him only in a pair of black boxers.

And you WERE going to ignore the very obvious outline of something you had already been ignoring since the last round when he pinned you down. You risked one look though, just to check why the fuck it looked so — okay. Moving on. Glad you would not have to do anything with it, because you were going to win the next round, win his little pervy game overall and go home!

Until you lost Round Four in fifteen seconds and we are not discussing it.

What I will say is that fighting a man in only his boxers when you are also mostly undressed is not a cognitively accessible activity and anyone who says otherwise is lying.

So now you were standing in the middle of the mat in only your sports bra, cursing yourself for why the fuck you had decided to put on your old underwear with teddy bears on them today. But hey, who would have thought that your hot jiu jitsu rival was actually a pervert who would corner you in an empty gym and bully you into stripping for his own entertainment!

"Cute," he smirked, oh so obviously eyeing your lap, though you weren't entirely sure if he meant the panties.

"Shut up," you snapped, feeling a furious blush spread all the way from your cheeks down, down, down to your clothed cunt. It was sweat. It was JUST sweat.

"Fists up."

Round Five was not jiu jitsu anymore. Let's just call it what it was — a desperate scramble for survival.

The pretense of technique went completely out the fucking window. At this point it was an excuse to grab, to hold, to drag your bodies against each other, both slick with sweat, making grips impossible anyway. You were fighting to keep your precious dignity intact. He was fighting to get you naked.

You scrambled for leverage and did the one thing you'd promised yourself you wouldn't do. You pulled guard.

He swept you clean in no time, rolled you onto your back, and suddenly he was above you, your wrists pinned either side of your head, his hips settled between your thighs. And he looked so frenzied he was unconsciously pushing into you, his erection pushing the wet fabric of your panties against your folds. Wait. Since when were you this wet? And apparently you were THAT wet, because the slick had penetrated through his boxers too, judging by the half-lidded look he was giving you.

Your heart started to hammer even harder. Now hyperaware of the minuscule roll of his hips, how he was holding back but failing, as he just couldn't help himself anymore. The heat between you becoming unbearable.

The way he held your wrists with one hand, streeetching you out, as the other snaked to your waist, feather touches hiking up dangerously close to the band of your bra, making your breath hitch. He started to lean down, eyeing your half-open mouth, you eyeing his — almost, just almost getting lost in his touch. Literally reconciling with the jarring fact that you might be the loser after all, mentally handing him your panties for him to do whatever he wanted with them, for all you cared.

But then you realized. He hadn't secured your legs.

He was too busy pressing himself into you, desperate for contact, to actually remember to pin your legs.

"Well, looks like the size difference won after all. You don't have to tap now — we'll do enough tapping right after—"

You batted your eyelashes up at him, distracting him from the fact that the reason you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist wasn't exactly to make the friction rougher.

He shifted his weight, smirking, taking your movement as accepting your loss like the good sport he is, rutting into you instead — already thinking about the far better win, tapping you out from the inside, filling your pussy so, so full of his cum. Clearly satisfied you'd complied with whatever the hell he was thinking, leaning down further, licking his lips —

And that was his fatal mistake.

You loosened your arms in his grip, letting him think you had completely given up resisting. Then, using that split second where he was entirely focused on his self-imposed slow-mo of leaning toward your lips and the delicious friction of your hips pressed together, you struck. Unlocking your ankles from around his slutty waist, you planted one foot on the mat, humped your hips right back at him, bridging, and trapped his forearm.

You pushed and before he could close the distance, you flipped him onto his back. Now he was the one staring at the ceiling.

"The fuck—"

You scrambled up and sank a kimura on his arm before he could recover, your weight pinning him to the mat.

He tried to shift. You squeezed your knees tighter. He tried to roll. You dropped your weight down completely on his straining dick and watched his jaw go tight.

His chest heaving, a deep furious red flush creeping up his neck and over his ears as he stared up at you in absolute, mortified disbelief. The strongest fighter in the gym had just practically lost because he couldn't keep it in his pants.

"Sweets—"

"Nuh-uh." You rolled your hips against his, slow and deliberate. And it was nobody's business whether that part was strategic or desperate. "Now your boxers, Satoru."

His eyes widened, fucking bewildered that you'd just used his own rules against him. Not that he didn't want to get rid of the boxers finally — you could tear them off his aching dick for all he cared — he'd only envisioned HIM saying a similar phrase while having YOU in a kimura underneath HIM instead. And he refused to lose. Because not even physical torture would force him to tap this crusty ass mat right now. His arm could fall off first.

So he rolled into it.

Into the pressure, toward you. He managed to get his knee under him, lifting both of you slightly, and shoved. The kimura lock broke and then he was moving, fast, catching you before you could counter, flipping you back to square one.

He pinned both of your arms behind your back, making you arch into him as he looked absolutely feral. Pupils so dilated you couldn't see any blue anymore, and he was so close, so close his damp bangs were tickling your forehead.

Both of you panting like hell. Your eyes wide because what the fuck just happened. He'd broken out of your submission lock. Him and his freaking strength. His arm was already aching from the escape he'd absolutely feel tomorrow and did not currently care about at all. He hoped there would be more things aching tomorrow morning anyway.

He searched your face and your flushed cheeks told him every answer he wanted.

"Can't give you my boxers if I didn't tap, sweets. And since I made such a great comeback—" the eye-crinkling smile had absolutely no business being that devastating, "—I'll take both your bra and panties. Please 'n thank you."

"That's—" you sputtered, heart hammering wildly against your ribs. "T-that's TWO items! I did not TAP yet, you didn't win this round, you're violating the established rules of—"

He kissed you to shut you up.

Hard.

And it apparently worked, which was the most humiliating part, because one second you were mid-argument and the next your brain was sooo full of him.

He kissed like he fought, like he had a point to prove and all night to prove it. One arm pinning yours under you, simply lifting you from underneath to free your hands, confident you wouldn't be fighting anymore.

Your hands immediately went to his slick hair, pushing him closer as he laid you back on the mat. You bit his lip on principle. He made a sound low in his throat that you felt in your sternum and kissed you harder for it, one hand sliding up to your jaw while the other finally snaked under your sweat-drenched bra and slid his fingers over your peaked nipple.

He then lifted you and started pulling the fabric off your body.

"Satoru," you panted, resisting. "Don't! I haven't tapped, so nothing is coming off yet!"

"You can't be serious right now," he nipped at your jaw and stopped, grabbing one of your hands and tapping it against the mat himself.

Tap. Tap. Tap. The hell?! Quick and absolutely unbothered.

"There. You tapped."

"That's NOT — that doesn't COUNT, you physically moved my—"

And before you could finish he had your bra over your head, lowering himself to mouth at your nipple, but you shoved at his chest on instinct. Rude.

He stopped and looked up at you from where he'd landed. Not exactly off you. More like south of you.

The smirk he gave you from down there was straight up diabolical. "Okay then," he said pleasantly. "Can't say I wasn't invited."

"Satoru." You tried to pull him back up. "I'm dead serious, it's disgusting, I'm sweaty, this is not—"

He pressed a single kiss to your inner thigh and wasted no time hooking his fingers into the flimsy waistband of your already ruined panties.

"Exactly," he said, and pressed his face right against your core, licking against the fabric. And Holy fucking shit, you could feel the warmth of his tongue even through the soaked cotton and your pussy spasmed before he'd even done anything properly. Talk about embarrassing.

He practically tore the fabric off and wasted absolutely zero time. One second he was eyeing your pretty, blushing cunt and the next he was nose-deep in your slick. No rhythm whatsoever at first, just inhaling you in, tasting you — and god fucking help him, because you tasted so, so sweet. If THIS was how you tasted sweaty and supposedly "disgusting," he would devour you fine dining style every single. damn. evening.

He attacked your clit as one hand kept you pinned by your hips, while the other came to either rescue or double the assault, depending from which angle you looked at it,  dragging lightly up and down your inner thigh at first, tickling, making you squirm, before sliding up to play with your wet folds.

"S-Satoru—" the only thing you somehow managed as he licked into you mercilessly, up and down, up and down, from your hole to your clit and back. Fucking hell, you stood corrected — he didn't kiss like he fought. He ate you out like he fought.

"Mmm?" he hummed into you, sucking at your folds, cheeks hollow, the vibrations going straight to your core.

"C-can't make me naked when — nggh — when you still have your boxers on."

Honestly, bravo. Truly. Remarkable sentence construction given the circumstances.

He pulled back just enough to look up at you. Lips slick and eyes absolutely feral.

Shook his head. Girl… Then hooked his thumbs into his waistband and shoved his boxers down without breaking eye contact, kicking them off somewhere.

"Better?" Rhetorical. Because god, it was better — his tip already aching from the friction, slick and twitching with pre. He pumped himself once, just for the show, while you stared dumbfounded.

You nodded like crazy and he settled right back. Now free, he stroked himself to the taste of you.

This time his other hand fully joined in — while he dismantled your swollen, twitchy clit with his smart mouth, he took two fingers and pushed them into your walls with no ceremony. Doing exactly what his tongue had done before, stroking, tickling on the inside. Up and down. Up and down.

It was maddening how well it worked, how fast you got wetter, so much slick pooling in his hand and dripping onto the mat beneath you. Your hands found his hair and you arched into it helplessly.

Oh, how good it felt — him not only destroying your fighting dignity but doing this too, with his mouth alone. Skilled man through and through.

You were so wound up from the entire night that it didn't take long. Embarrassingly not long. Your thighs shaking either side of his head, fingers twisting in his hair —

Satoru groaned into you, the sound hot and vibrating, pushing the orgasm even deeper as he tried to catch every drop, his tongue lapping at your entrance — eyes rolling back, yours and his —

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Satoru, so completely lost in the sauce, tapped out from eating you out.

He looked up at you with literal heart eyes. Almost as wrecked as you were. Flushed all over, watching you come down from the high — the prettiest sight he'd ever seen. You had no idea, no idea, how many times he'd imagined you ruined like this.

But his imagination hadn't done it justice. No. No. No. Not even close. You were lying warm and wrecked, chest heaving, everything on display, right in the middle of your gym and all for him. He felt like a pervert every time he did imagine this — during your spars, during watching you work out or stretch. When he had you locked down, your pretty face always so close, yet so far — how he always wanted to throw you on this damn mat and just pounce without ceremony, your pretty eyes looking down at him just like they did now. Feeling like a massive perv, sporting a stiffy every time you two accidentally dry humped just to try to win the roll. But he owed his perverted side a massive, massive debt for the hail mary that got him here.

You caught your breath and looked him in his possessed eyes. He was back on his heels, cock aching against his stomach, leaking so much you weren't sure if it was precum or if he'd just come on his own.

You sat up and shoved him back.

Tap out is tap out. Gotta follow the rules. The bastard didn't even do it on purpose! It was just an automatic biological response. But hey, he wasn't going to resist if it meant you on top of him.

Wasting no time, you straddled him, dragging your slick heat all over his lap, his cock sliding right through your folds as you stroked your thumb across his mushroomy tip.

Satoru dropped back onto his forearms and threw his head back, throat exposed, jaw tight.

You took your time on purpose. Rolling your hips just enough to feel him twitch against you without giving him what he wanted, dragging your slicked pussylips along his shaft, watching his throat work as he swallowed. His hands found your thighs and gripped but he didn't push — just held on, knuckles white, letting you set the pace and hating every second of it.

"You're doing that on purpose," he said to the ceiling. "But god, please don't stop, you feel so warm against me."

"Doing what?" you asked innocently, rolling your hips, showcasing your superb leg control.

He lifted his head and looked at you. The expression on his face was genuinely pained, but probably the prettiest thing you'd ever seen on him. "Don't."

You smiled. "Dunno what you're talking about," you mocked, and let his cock settle right at your entrance.

"Buut since you tapped so graciously, I guess I'll take the win." And sank down.

His fat tip stretched you ooopen, your walls pulsing around him, drowning him in.

His forearms gave out. Flat on his back now, one hand pathetically thrown over his face, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, holding himself back from dragging you all the way down.

"Fuuuck, sweets—"

You felt yourself running out of room and he wasn't even halfway in! His hilt bullying its way in, barely fitting, your thighs shaking — superb leg control, my ass. Your pussy crying for help when you felt him kiss your cervix and still asking for more room.

Satoru looked up at you from under his arm and you could hear the smirk even from there. "Need help, big girl?"

"I don't need—"

You sank all the way down. Out of spite. Completely out of spite.

The sound you made was embarrassing. The sound he made was worse — punched out of him, his whole body going rigid, abs clenching.

Then he laughed. Low and delighted and completely smug, the fucker, even now as he finally had your pretty pussy around him. And that's perhaps why you gushed around him like craaazy.

He stopped laughing, solely focused on the warmth, the softness, the wet heat of you.

You looked at him half gone and started to move. Rolling your hips slowly, but his slightly curved cock hit the right spot with every rotation, stealing every damn breath from your lungs.

He made a sound you were saving for later and his hands gripped your hips mean. You rolled your hips, his grip unforgiving, searing the skin underneath, and watched his eyes flutter. You felt so, so thoroughly powerful for about thirty seconds —

And then he rutted up into you from pure instinct, the movement felt in your freaking womb, and your pussy fluttered around him without warning, thighs locking, your whole rhythm falling apart. The sound you made was something between a wail and a whimper and you refused to acknowledge whatever it was.

His eyes went dark. "So, so cute," he chuckled, watching your flushed cheeks and cute little ‘o’ coming out of your pretty open mouth.

And what happened in the next ten seconds — him sitting up, his cock bullying your cervix even further, his arm snaking around you —

"Come 'ere, baby."

Hand in your hair. His mouth on yours, kissing you filthy, spitting into your mouth, and as you tasted him all over your tongue, all salty and sweet and so perfect —

His other arm came around your throat from behind, hips still rolling, slick all over his and your inner thighs, and then he flipped you.

You ended up stomach to the mat, him behind you, his chest pressing into your back, arm locking you in the most wicked chokehold imaginable.

"There," he said against the back of your neck, pressing a wet stripe of kisses up your spine. "Be a good girl and finally stay, will ya. No more games. We clear?"

His voice alone was making goosebumps break out all over your skin. His cock rolled against your ass as you arched into him from your locked position, hands digging into the mat beneath you.

"Mmm," — you didn't know if that was supposed to answer his question or a reaction to his cock slipping back into you from this angle.

The new depth made you cry out into the mat. Nowhere to go. Nothing to push against except him, everywhere.

"My black belt champ has n-nothing to say except pathetic little whimpers?" He blew a hot gust of air against your ear. "Where did all that attitude go?"

Your hips only met his halfway anyway.

His hips found a rhythm and it was relentless. No more teasing, no more playing, just him taking you completely apart on the mat. His arm around your throat cutting off just enough air to make you see little stars, his mouth assaulting your neck and shoulders, leaving bite marks one after another, shamelessly licking the sweet sweat off your skin.

You couldn't even feel humiliated about your mouth falling open, drooling right onto his forearm, because you could practically feel him in your stomach, dragging against your walls with every thrust.

Cocky bastard that he was, he pulled back just far enough to watch himself — completely drenched in your slick, his own mixing with yours — before rutting back in like he was spellbound by it.

You grabbed his forearm and held on, because he was genuinely fucking you into the mat and you stood corrected, again, for the absolute last time tonight. This man fucked like he fought.

He pressed his lips to your temple.

"Tap out, baby," he murmured. The absolute nerve.

You held on tighter. No matter how thoroughly you were getting split apart on his thick cock right now, you were not giving him that satisfaction.

Satoru didn't push it. Your walls fluttering fast around him gave him the answer he wanted anyway. You were close.

And close you fucking were — him with the meanest chokehold, your back arched so deeply that every thrust hit a hat trick. G-spot, cervix, g-spot again. Overfilling you completely as you milked him so, so well.

The coil in your stomach pulled tighter and tighter —

"T-Toru," you drawled, your cheek pressed into his big bicep. "I — I can't—"

"You milk me so well, sweets, let go for me," he said against your ear.

And it was either his words or the way his arm flexed under your neck making you totally bleary-eyed, or the way his cockhead kissed your womb  one last time — but you came haard.

His name wrecked in your throat, your whole body shaking through it, walls clenching so hard around him that he choked on a curse against the back of your neck —

"Fuck — sweets, I'm—"

And he followed practically right after — embarrassingly fast, but you couldn't blame the poor guy at this point. He'd been giving himself pathetic handies after every single practice because your training shorts always fit you so freaking nicely. He was honestly surprised he hadn't come earlier just from the sight of you. This felt like a fucking dream come true. He buried himself so deep you felt every single pulse of it, grip going white-knuckled, hips stuttering through it until he emptied out with capital E.

Completely sweat-slicked, he collapsed against your back, both of you absolutely destroyed on the nasty gym floor. He released you from the chokehold, palm moving to rest against your cheek instead, supporting your heavy head.

He pressed one single kiss to the side of your neck as he shifted.

"Soo," he said eventually, voice raspy and spent. "I guess you really won this one too." And you giggled at that.

Satoru helped you turn over to finally face him again. His softening cock slipped out and the frothy mess spilled out of your hole before he could stop it with his fingers.

"Well, the mat is kinda ruined," he scrunched his nose, eyeing the absolute state below you both. "Yaga will be mad big times at you."

"Me?! Why me?!"

"Well, last time I checked, you were the one closing?" he said it so saccharine sweet, planting a kiss to your forehead as he cradled your head.

And well. He kinda had you there.

You tapped out.