LIMITLESS

Not that you could afford not answering, because you immediately feel his hands pulling back from under your shirt, a whimper leaving your throat as you feel the absence of his big hands from your chest.

He moves his mouth from your lips to your ear, lightly pecking the shell of it, “tell me how good you feel.” You can practically feel him grinning, your panting betraying your want for this to escalate.

You’re nothing if not prideful, though. “You’re an ass, Kujo.”

The man chuckles, pulling back, and his deep blue eyes catch you off-guard, like it did back at the club. He flicks your head playfully. Enough for you to feel it, but not enough to hurt. “My name’s Gojo, not Kujo.” He doesn’t look offended though. He seems more amused, if anything. “But you can call me Satoru.”

Gojo Satoru. That you’ll remember, for sure. You doubt you’d ever forget anyone that looks like him, but right now, what you want to do doesn’t include excessive talking.

“Right, but… Satoru?” You pause, giving him a chance to cock a brow and smirk, leaning his head forward so that the tips of your noses are touching.

“What is it, gorgeous?”

This time, you’re the one who leans forward just a little more, tipping your chin so that your lips barely grazes his own, your eyes looking into his, the alcohol in your system surprisingly not fucking with you too much. “I’d rather you use my mouth for something else other than just saying your name.”

Gojo takes your words seriously, pressing his lips against your own almost immediately. The elevator bell dings, and the both of you are lip-locked. If there was anyone out in the hallways of the hotel, neither of you noticed. They could stare for all you care. All you’re filled with is the sensation he’s giving you. You can feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins as he busies one of his hands against your clothed cunt, the other fumbling around in his pocket for the room key.

“Fuck, Satoru,” you moan, noticing how quickly he’s undone your jeans button and slipped his hand underneath the denim—and since when did you manage to make it in the room? You hadn’t even noticed until he’s pushing you down onto the soft silk sheets of his mattress, the foam sinking as you do. It’s comfortable. Very comfortable.

You’d lie there voluntarily, no questions asked.

By the time Gojo hovers above you, your jeans has been discarded to the corner of the bedroom, his brute strength enough to adjust your body position as he pleases, moving you to the center of the mattress. Your eyes flick down to his hands on your waist—they’re big. His long, lithe fingers trace down your shirt, trailing towards your underwear (and you thank your earlier self for deciding to wear a nicer pair instead of some plain white cotton, though you’re about to find out that Gojo doesn’t care much for them—he thinks they’re worn to be taken off anyway), two fingers slipping under the waistband before skillfully pulling them down to your knees.

The same two fingers swipe at your cunt, and his beautiful blue eyes make sure to gaze at your face as he licks them. “Someone’s eager, hm?”

It’s hard to calm your heart down—for someone you just met at a club, Gojo Satoru is the gorgeous one. And he knows it. His eyes are enough to hypnotize you, and his hands obviously work magic. One finger slips in, and then two, and your mouth falls open involuntarily.

Gojo can feel his pants tightening because fuck you’re so hot and he can’t stop himself from imagining all he’s going to do to you. If you’d let him, that is. Your moans feel like godsend to him. Good thing is, you seem very sane despite all the chugging you did earlier at the club. He’s thankful for that; he wants you to remember this.

All of it.

“S-Satoru.” Your fucking whines are driving him insane and he’s not even sure how much longer he can hold himself back. He’s not proud of it, but rarely does someone ever hold the power to make him feel like he’ll nut in his pants just like that. Gojo smirks as he looks down at you—you should be proud. Maybe he should praise you, please you more.

“Be a good girl, m’kay?”

He yanks his black sweater off, throwing it across the room. His hands hang your feet off the side of the bed before he puts them on his shoulders and pulls you in. It’s almost instinctive how you try to cover yourself, but Gojo’s hands are quick to stop you.

You’re quite something, Gojo thinks. Won’t blink an eyelash at whispering dirty things in his ears but then gets awfully shy in this position. His eyes fall to your glistening cunt, aware that you’re sensitive to his breaths falling against it. Borderline adorable, actually.

“No need to hide from me, pretty,” he tells you, hands moving to your inner thighs to keep them apart. His head moves down, and it’s only when you nod at him, eyes full-blown with lust, that he sticks his tongue out, licking a fat stripe up your bare cunt.

He feels your fingers intertwining in his hair, tugging at them as he eats you out, your moans getting louder and louder—if anything, they’re just fuel; motivation to make him continue. Your thighs clench around his head, and he chuckles, the vibration making your spine tingle.

Gojo pulls away for a moment, with you whining at the loss of contact. He smirks. You’re so needy for him, aren’t you? “Take your shirt off, baby.”

And you do. Slowly. Innocently. Sexily.

“That too,” Gojo says, cocking his brows, looking at your bra. It follows your shirt to hang from the side of the bed. “Such- a- good- girl.” He pecks soft kisses on your clit with each syllable, his tongue moving in and out of your pussy, replacing them with two of his fingers.

It isn’t long before he feels your pussy clenching around them, and he grins. Your back arched, his free hand on your chest, two fingers playing with your bud—you’re picture perfect.

“I’m—Satoru, fuck.” Can’t even form a coherent sentence from how good you’re feeling. It should be illegal how much you turn him on. He can’t even fucking wait anymore, so he pulls his fingers out of you, acutely aware that you’re disappointed from the pleading look in your eyes as you watch him get up.

Gojo is ready to tease you, but he catches a glint in your eye as you sit up, like the earlier shyness has temporarily dissipated as you look him in the eyes, a similar smirk tugging on your lips. Your fingers find their way to his belt, undoing it before you pull the zipper down on his pants, letting them fall to the floor.

Even through his black boxers you can see the outline of his dick, now hard, thanks to you. You keep yourself from faltering—because he’s big. He’s actually big. And here you thought his ego was the biggest thing you’d see tonight. Evidently not.

You feel his smooth fingers find their way to your chin, tipping it up to look at him again. “What do you want, baby? I’m all yours.”

Normally you’d be adverse to such cockiness. Which is exactly why you absolutely detest Gojo Satoru. How is he able to keep you captivated like this? If he was anyone else, you bet you wouldn’t even bat an eyelash. Yet here you are, slipping off his boxers and having to hold yourself back from actually gasping because you didn’t expect him to be this huge.

Your hands seem tiny as your fingers curve around him, the palm of your hand brushing against the thick vein on the underside of his cock. You don’t miss the suppressed grunt from the man standing in front of you as you start to move your hand—up, down, slightly more pressure, up and down again. You dare to flick your eyes up, catching his beautiful azure gaze mesmerised by you, a sheen of saliva covering his bottom lip as he sweeps his tongue across it, his fingers moving to your cheek, thumb caressing it gently.

His eyes, much as they threaten to break your focus, also beckon for you to do more. So you oblige, tongue leaving the confines of your mouth to give the tip of his cock small kitten licks, surprisingly enough to make him shudder slightly.

You smirk; he’s sensitive. But Gojo catches that, abruptly tipping your chin up higher. “Careful, kitten.”

It’s funny how he thinks he can lord over you just like that. Your ego won’t let him. You ignore his warning, swatting his grip away with your free hand before wrapping your mouth around his dick. And you’re thanking god that this isn’t your first time or you would’ve absolutely crumbled.

It doesn’t take long for Gojo to get greedy, moving his hips and thrusting into your mouth, slowly at first and then—even greedier. You feel him throbbing in your mouth, and even you can tell from his clenched jaw that he can’t hold back. That’s why he pulls out—hurriedly pushing you down against the mattress, one big hand fondling your right breast while the other adjusts you as he moves, your lips locked together, his tongue lingering with the taste of alcohol.

“Can’t—fucking hold back anymore. If you want me to stop, you better say so now,” he chokes out, his tip just barely touching your cunt. His eyes are half-lidded. You believe him for sure.

Even you’re ashamed to admit that you’re absolutely soaking, especially since you haven’t been able to forget the sensation of his tongue against your clit. There’s nothing intimate about this, about his eyelashes fluttering against yours, about his eyes blown with lust, about his gentle grip on your waist—but still, you’re craving for this, for him, for more.

“Don’t want you to stop,” you pause as he presses a kiss on your lips. “Want you to hurry up.”

Gojo chuckles, and the tips of your noses touch. “Telling me what to do?” He looks oddly boyish like this, a sly grin hidden behind white tresses and looking up at you through his long lashes. “Aren’t you impatient,” he teases, as though he’s one to talk.

Lucky for you though, he doesn’t make you wait any longer, pushing himself slowly into you. You bite down on your bottom lip as you try and adjust to his girth. A whimper escapes you, and you feel his thumb beckoning your lips open.

“C’mon, you can take more, can’t you?” He doesn’t sound like he’s goading you, but by now you’re not really trusting your judgement. You nod profusely though, despite it. Your vision is hazy, clouded by everything he’s making you feel. He leans closer to you, lips grazing your ear as he starts fucking into you. “That’s my girl,” he whispers, smirking as he feels you clench around him.

You don’t catch whatever he whispers in your ear next, or even feel when he bites down on your shoulder (something that’s surely to leave a mark the next day). All you can feel is the euphoria rushing through your body as he quickens his pace, sound of skin slapping skin the only thing you hear, his hands roaming your body sending you into overdrive.

On top of you, Gojo has his eyes glued on your face as he fucks into you, his gaze slowly trailing down from your neck to your shoulder—now marked by him—down to your chest, your tits bouncing as you take all of him, your pussy probably burning from the stretch. Such a good fucking girl. You’re not doing such a bad job for someone he just met. For someone who doesn’t want to tell him your name. You don’t seem like someone who goes around looking for one night stands. Just a guess. Then again, it doesn’t bring him much merit to know your name. It’d just be nice to know. And maybe forget one day.

That’s what you’re most likely going to do with him anyway.

Maybe that drinking game he played with you and your friends earlier did help him know more about you after all. Even if only a little. Doesn’t know your name but knows the most public place you’d fucked in.

(Gojo made sure not to scoff when you answered with “living room”. Kind of vanilla. Then again, what wouldn’t sound vanilla when one of your friends said “back of a lecture hall” and the other said “roller coaster”. He didn’t even want to ask how that last one worked. Also because he kind of zoned out when you started to get tipsy and laying your head on his shoulder.)

“Fuck.” God, even your fucking whine makes him feel intoxicated. He can’t help but thrust into you harder, faster. The headboard can barely take anymore, and he’s sure that the neighbouring room might complain but for you? Satoru would have no qualms paying them to shut the fuck up so he can hear you clearly.

Every whine, every sigh, every hitch in your throat. He goes faster, and harder, and faster. His mouth latches onto your chest, tongue flicking the bud—and then you moan his name and he can’t fucking take it anymore. His dick is throbbing inside you as you clench tighter, his free hand playing with your clit, rubbing circles with his thumb as he lets you moan louder and louder.

He pulls his head back up to look at you, your eyes shut tight and mouth wide open. “You wanna cum, pretty?”

“Mhm.” You respond without missing a beat. It isn’t even until now that he realises you’ve been planting your nails onto his back. Not that he minds being scratched up by you.

Gojo feels your high coming—and his own. He thrusts into you a few more times, pinching down on your clit as you both reach your highs, his kiss swallowing your moans as you writhe underneath him, taking his load inside you so well.

He pulls back, slowly watching as his cock comes out of you, covered in both of your slicks—scooping up the cum slipping out of you with his fingers before pushing them back into your cunt, with you gasping from the sensitivity.

Both of you are spent, panting as you come down from your highs. Gojo settles down beside you on the bed, too tired to care that he has a practical stranger in his hotel room. He’s about to tell you that he could call you a cab back home, but the moment he turns, he gets to see your droopy eyes.

He isn’t surprised; from what he’s heard earlier you’d had a long day. It’s not really like him to offer, but maybe it’s fine. For you.

“You can leave in the morning if you want,” he tells you as he sits up, getting one of his spare dress shirts that he swung onto the chair earlier. “I can take the living room.” (He looks at you with an obligatory smirk—living room. He’ll probably associate you with that word.)

You pout, and Gojo actually thinks it’s cute. He thinks he hates you. He actually hates you for making him think things like this.

“What am I, a monster or something?” You ask him.

It’s actually funny how you’re trying to beat around the bush. If it were any other day, Satoru would pounce at the opportunity to tease you endlessly. But he’s had a long day too. So instead of trying to annoy you, he tosses you his shirt. You catch it, cocking a brow at him.

“Aren’t you cold?” He asks you, and it’s as though you’ve only just realised you’re still naked, by the way you hurriedly put it around you, buttoning it all up too. You look good in it, better than him. He opts for just wearing a boxer and slipping into bed beside you, although both of you are careful to sleep near the edge.

Somehow cuddling seems a little too intimate for two strangers that just fucked.

Within a few minutes, both of you are out cold.

“Still not gonna tell me what happened between you and Mr. Handsome?”

“I’m hanging up now,” you tell Ami over the phone before getting into the lift.

“You whore! At least tell—”

Pressing on the red button, you sigh. Both Ami and Hana have been bugging you to spill the details of what happened that night between you and Gojo Satoru. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell them. Heck, they probably already knew, considering they saw you pulling him out of the club with you. Still, sex and tell isn’t your kind of thing.

Stuffing your phone into your back pocket, you straighten yourself up as the elevator pulls up to the highest floor. It’s your first day of work and you do not need your two best friends hounding you about your sex life and distracting you.

As you manoeuvre the corridors and enter through the double doors of Azure Corp, your new employer, you take a deep breath. The woman who interviewed you seemed nice enough. She was older, 45’s your best guess. Seemed strict and stern, but you have a gut feeling she means well. You try to look out for her short blonde hair as you walk through the office, having her instructions memorised.

Take a left after you enter, walk straight until you see the first printing room to your left, and then turn right, all the way to the end of the corridor.

And now you’re here, your right hand clenched into a fist.

“Being late on the first day is absolutely unacceptable.”

Thank god for you it’s 8:57am, just three minutes shy. You could’ve come earlier, if only the trains weren’t so damn packed.

You knock the door, three tight raps before you realise what the words embossed on a black plaque on the door read. Your eyes widen as the door starts to open, the name GOJO SATORU disappearing from sight and making way for the man himself.

In front of you, the man whose dress shirt you stole after that night. And beside him, the woman who interviewed you.

“Oh hi, Y/N, good morning!” She’s greeting you, but you can’t tear your eyes off of him. He’s as surprised as you are, blank stare as Mrs. Souseki introduces you. “Oh and Mr Gojo, this is L/N Y/N. She’ll be taking over me as your assistant from now on.”

The words you try to say catch at your throat. But Gojo recovers faster. He holds a hand out for a handshake, acting as if he’s never met you.

“Morning Ms. L/N,” and then he flashes that charming smile of his. “Looking forward to working with you.”

“M-me too,” you choke out, shaking his hand. The flashbacks from two nights back flooding your vision.

Oh great. It’s only your first day of work and you’ve already fucked your boss.

Ami’s words ring in your head. You whore!

Yep. Yep, you definitely do feel like one. Unfortunately for you, Gojo’s not helping. Because the next moment, you catch something you’re positive he didn’t have on him that night.

A striking gold wedding ring.

Not that you could afford not answering, because you immediately feel his hands pulling back from under your shirt, a whimper leaving your throat as you feel the absence of his big hands from your chest.

He moves his mouth from your lips to your ear, lightly pecking the shell of it, “tell me how good you feel.” You can practically feel him grinning, your panting betraying your want for this to escalate.

You’re nothing if not prideful, though. “You’re an ass, Kujo.”

The man chuckles, pulling back, and his deep blue eyes catch you off-guard, like it did back at the club. He flicks your head playfully. Enough for you to feel it, but not enough to hurt. “My name’s Gojo, not Kujo.” He doesn’t look offended though. He seems more amused, if anything. “But you can call me Satoru.”

Gojo Satoru. That you’ll remember, for sure. You doubt you’d ever forget anyone that looks like him, but right now, what you want to do doesn’t include excessive talking.

“Right, but… Satoru?” You pause, giving him a chance to cock a brow and smirk, leaning his head forward so that the tips of your noses are touching.

“What is it, gorgeous?”

This time, you’re the one who leans forward just a little more, tipping your chin so that your lips barely grazes his own, your eyes looking into his, the alcohol in your system surprisingly not fucking with you too much. “I’d rather you use my mouth for something else other than just saying your name.”

Gojo takes your words seriously, pressing his lips against your own almost immediately. The elevator bell dings, and the both of you are lip-locked. If there was anyone out in the hallways of the hotel, neither of you noticed. They could stare for all you care. All you’re filled with is the sensation he’s giving you. You can feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins as he busies one of his hands against your clothed cunt, the other fumbling around in his pocket for the room key.

“Fuck, Satoru,” you moan, noticing how quickly he’s undone your jeans button and slipped his hand underneath the denim—and since when did you manage to make it in the room? You hadn’t even noticed until he’s pushing you down onto the soft silk sheets of his mattress, the foam sinking as you do. It’s comfortable. Very comfortable.

You’d lie there voluntarily, no questions asked.

By the time Gojo hovers above you, your jeans has been discarded to the corner of the bedroom, his brute strength enough to adjust your body position as he pleases, moving you to the center of the mattress. Your eyes flick down to his hands on your waist—they’re big. His long, lithe fingers trace down your shirt, trailing towards your underwear (and you thank your earlier self for deciding to wear a nicer pair instead of some plain white cotton, though you’re about to find out that Gojo doesn’t care much for them—he thinks they’re worn to be taken off anyway), two fingers slipping under the waistband before skillfully pulling them down to your knees.

The same two fingers swipe at your cunt, and his beautiful blue eyes make sure to gaze at your face as he licks them. “Someone’s eager, hm?”

It’s hard to calm your heart down—for someone you just met at a club, Gojo Satoru is the gorgeous one. And he knows it. His eyes are enough to hypnotize you, and his hands obviously work magic. One finger slips in, and then two, and your mouth falls open involuntarily.

Gojo can feel his pants tightening because fuck you’re so hot and he can’t stop himself from imagining all he’s going to do to you. If you’d let him, that is. Your moans feel like godsend to him. Good thing is, you seem very sane despite all the chugging you did earlier at the club. He’s thankful for that; he wants you to remember this.

All of it.

“S-Satoru.” Your fucking whines are driving him insane and he’s not even sure how much longer he can hold himself back. He’s not proud of it, but rarely does someone ever hold the power to make him feel like he’ll nut in his pants just like that. Gojo smirks as he looks down at you—you should be proud. Maybe he should praise you, please you more.

“Be a good girl, m’kay?”

He yanks his black sweater off, throwing it across the room. His hands hang your feet off the side of the bed before he puts them on his shoulders and pulls you in. It’s almost instinctive how you try to cover yourself, but Gojo’s hands are quick to stop you.

You’re quite something, Gojo thinks. Won’t blink an eyelash at whispering dirty things in his ears but then gets awfully shy in this position. His eyes fall to your glistening cunt, aware that you’re sensitive to his breaths falling against it. Borderline adorable, actually.

“No need to hide from me, pretty,” he tells you, hands moving to your inner thighs to keep them apart. His head moves down, and it’s only when you nod at him, eyes full-blown with lust, that he sticks his tongue out, licking a fat stripe up your bare cunt.

He feels your fingers intertwining in his hair, tugging at them as he eats you out, your moans getting louder and louder—if anything, they’re just fuel; motivation to make him continue. Your thighs clench around his head, and he chuckles, the vibration making your spine tingle.

Gojo pulls away for a moment, with you whining at the loss of contact. He smirks. You’re so needy for him, aren’t you? “Take your shirt off, baby.”

And you do. Slowly. Innocently. Sexily.

“That too,” Gojo says, cocking his brows, looking at your bra. It follows your shirt to hang from the side of the bed. “Such- a- good- girl.” He pecks soft kisses on your clit with each syllable, his tongue moving in and out of your pussy, replacing them with two of his fingers.

It isn’t long before he feels your pussy clenching around them, and he grins. Your back arched, his free hand on your chest, two fingers playing with your bud—you’re picture perfect.

“I’m—Satoru, fuck.” Can’t even form a coherent sentence from how good you’re feeling. It should be illegal how much you turn him on. He can’t even fucking wait anymore, so he pulls his fingers out of you, acutely aware that you’re disappointed from the pleading look in your eyes as you watch him get up.

Gojo is ready to tease you, but he catches a glint in your eye as you sit up, like the earlier shyness has temporarily dissipated as you look him in the eyes, a similar smirk tugging on your lips. Your fingers find their way to his belt, undoing it before you pull the zipper down on his pants, letting them fall to the floor.

Even through his black boxers you can see the outline of his dick, now hard, thanks to you. You keep yourself from faltering—because he’s big. He’s actually big. And here you thought his ego was the biggest thing you’d see tonight. Evidently not.

You feel his smooth fingers find their way to your chin, tipping it up to look at him again. “What do you want, baby? I’m all yours.”

Normally you’d be adverse to such cockiness. Which is exactly why you absolutely detest Gojo Satoru. How is he able to keep you captivated like this? If he was anyone else, you bet you wouldn’t even bat an eyelash. Yet here you are, slipping off his boxers and having to hold yourself back from actually gasping because you didn’t expect him to be this huge.

Your hands seem tiny as your fingers curve around him, the palm of your hand brushing against the thick vein on the underside of his cock. You don’t miss the suppressed grunt from the man standing in front of you as you start to move your hand—up, down, slightly more pressure, up and down again. You dare to flick your eyes up, catching his beautiful azure gaze mesmerised by you, a sheen of saliva covering his bottom lip as he sweeps his tongue across it, his fingers moving to your cheek, thumb caressing it gently.

His eyes, much as they threaten to break your focus, also beckon for you to do more. So you oblige, tongue leaving the confines of your mouth to give the tip of his cock small kitten licks, surprisingly enough to make him shudder slightly.

You smirk; he’s sensitive. But Gojo catches that, abruptly tipping your chin up higher. “Careful, kitten.”

It’s funny how he thinks he can lord over you just like that. Your ego won’t let him. You ignore his warning, swatting his grip away with your free hand before wrapping your mouth around his dick. And you’re thanking god that this isn’t your first time or you would’ve absolutely crumbled.

It doesn’t take long for Gojo to get greedy, moving his hips and thrusting into your mouth, slowly at first and then—even greedier. You feel him throbbing in your mouth, and even you can tell from his clenched jaw that he can’t hold back. That’s why he pulls out—hurriedly pushing you down against the mattress, one big hand fondling your right breast while the other adjusts you as he moves, your lips locked together, his tongue lingering with the taste of alcohol.

“Can’t—fucking hold back anymore. If you want me to stop, you better say so now,” he chokes out, his tip just barely touching your cunt. His eyes are half-lidded. You believe him for sure.

Even you’re ashamed to admit that you’re absolutely soaking, especially since you haven’t been able to forget the sensation of his tongue against your clit. There’s nothing intimate about this, about his eyelashes fluttering against yours, about his eyes blown with lust, about his gentle grip on your waist—but still, you’re craving for this, for him, for more.

“Don’t want you to stop,” you pause as he presses a kiss on your lips. “Want you to hurry up.”

Gojo chuckles, and the tips of your noses touch. “Telling me what to do?” He looks oddly boyish like this, a sly grin hidden behind white tresses and looking up at you through his long lashes. “Aren’t you impatient,” he teases, as though he’s one to talk.

Lucky for you though, he doesn’t make you wait any longer, pushing himself slowly into you. You bite down on your bottom lip as you try and adjust to his girth. A whimper escapes you, and you feel his thumb beckoning your lips open.

“C’mon, you can take more, can’t you?” He doesn’t sound like he’s goading you, but by now you’re not really trusting your judgement. You nod profusely though, despite it. Your vision is hazy, clouded by everything he’s making you feel. He leans closer to you, lips grazing your ear as he starts fucking into you. “That’s my girl,” he whispers, smirking as he feels you clench around him.

You don’t catch whatever he whispers in your ear next, or even feel when he bites down on your shoulder (something that’s surely to leave a mark the next day). All you can feel is the euphoria rushing through your body as he quickens his pace, sound of skin slapping skin the only thing you hear, his hands roaming your body sending you into overdrive.

On top of you, Gojo has his eyes glued on your face as he fucks into you, his gaze slowly trailing down from your neck to your shoulder—now marked by him—down to your chest, your tits bouncing as you take all of him, your pussy probably burning from the stretch. Such a good fucking girl. You’re not doing such a bad job for someone he just met. For someone who doesn’t want to tell him your name. You don’t seem like someone who goes around looking for one night stands. Just a guess. Then again, it doesn’t bring him much merit to know your name. It’d just be nice to know. And maybe forget one day.

That’s what you’re most likely going to do with him anyway.

Maybe that drinking game he played with you and your friends earlier did help him know more about you after all. Even if only a little. Doesn’t know your name but knows the most public place you’d fucked in.

(Gojo made sure not to scoff when you answered with “living room”. Kind of vanilla. Then again, what wouldn’t sound vanilla when one of your friends said “back of a lecture hall” and the other said “roller coaster”. He didn’t even want to ask how that last one worked. Also because he kind of zoned out when you started to get tipsy and laying your head on his shoulder.)

“Fuck.” God, even your fucking whine makes him feel intoxicated. He can’t help but thrust into you harder, faster. The headboard can barely take anymore, and he’s sure that the neighbouring room might complain but for you? Satoru would have no qualms paying them to shut the fuck up so he can hear you clearly.

Every whine, every sigh, every hitch in your throat. He goes faster, and harder, and faster. His mouth latches onto your chest, tongue flicking the bud—and then you moan his name and he can’t fucking take it anymore. His dick is throbbing inside you as you clench tighter, his free hand playing with your clit, rubbing circles with his thumb as he lets you moan louder and louder.

He pulls his head back up to look at you, your eyes shut tight and mouth wide open. “You wanna cum, pretty?”

“Mhm.” You respond without missing a beat. It isn’t even until now that he realises you’ve been planting your nails onto his back. Not that he minds being scratched up by you.

Gojo feels your high coming—and his own. He thrusts into you a few more times, pinching down on your clit as you both reach your highs, his kiss swallowing your moans as you writhe underneath him, taking his load inside you so well.

He pulls back, slowly watching as his cock comes out of you, covered in both of your slicks—scooping up the cum slipping out of you with his fingers before pushing them back into your cunt, with you gasping from the sensitivity.

Both of you are spent, panting as you come down from your highs. Gojo settles down beside you on the bed, too tired to care that he has a practical stranger in his hotel room. He’s about to tell you that he could call you a cab back home, but the moment he turns, he gets to see your droopy eyes.

He isn’t surprised; from what he’s heard earlier you’d had a long day. It’s not really like him to offer, but maybe it’s fine. For you.

“You can leave in the morning if you want,” he tells you as he sits up, getting one of his spare dress shirts that he swung onto the chair earlier. “I can take the living room.” (He looks at you with an obligatory smirk—living room. He’ll probably associate you with that word.)

You pout, and Gojo actually thinks it’s cute. He thinks he hates you. He actually hates you for making him think things like this.

“What am I, a monster or something?” You ask him.

It’s actually funny how you’re trying to beat around the bush. If it were any other day, Satoru would pounce at the opportunity to tease you endlessly. But he’s had a long day too. So instead of trying to annoy you, he tosses you his shirt. You catch it, cocking a brow at him.

“Aren’t you cold?” He asks you, and it’s as though you’ve only just realised you’re still naked, by the way you hurriedly put it around you, buttoning it all up too. You look good in it, better than him. He opts for just wearing a boxer and slipping into bed beside you, although both of you are careful to sleep near the edge.

Somehow cuddling seems a little too intimate for two strangers that just fucked.

Within a few minutes, both of you are out cold.

“Still not gonna tell me what happened between you and Mr. Handsome?”

“I’m hanging up now,” you tell Ami over the phone before getting into the lift.

“You whore! At least tell—”

Pressing on the red button, you sigh. Both Ami and Hana have been bugging you to spill the details of what happened that night between you and Gojo Satoru. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell them. Heck, they probably already knew, considering they saw you pulling him out of the club with you. Still, sex and tell isn’t your kind of thing.

Stuffing your phone into your back pocket, you straighten yourself up as the elevator pulls up to the highest floor. It’s your first day of work and you do not need your two best friends hounding you about your sex life and distracting you.

As you manoeuvre the corridors and enter through the double doors of Azure Corp, your new employer, you take a deep breath. The woman who interviewed you seemed nice enough. She was older, 45’s your best guess. Seemed strict and stern, but you have a gut feeling she means well. You try to look out for her short blonde hair as you walk through the office, having her instructions memorised.

Take a left after you enter, walk straight until you see the first printing room to your left, and then turn right, all the way to the end of the corridor.

And now you’re here, your right hand clenched into a fist.

“Being late on the first day is absolutely unacceptable.”

Thank god for you it’s 8:57am, just three minutes shy. You could’ve come earlier, if only the trains weren’t so damn packed.

You knock the door, three tight raps before you realise what the words embossed on a black plaque on the door read. Your eyes widen as the door starts to open, the name GOJO SATORU disappearing from sight and making way for the man himself.

In front of you, the man whose dress shirt you stole after that night. And beside him, the woman who interviewed you.

“Oh hi, Y/N, good morning!” She’s greeting you, but you can’t tear your eyes off of him. He’s as surprised as you are, blank stare as Mrs. Souseki introduces you. “Oh and Mr Gojo, this is L/N Y/N. She’ll be taking over me as your assistant from now on.”

The words you try to say catch at your throat. But Gojo recovers faster. He holds a hand out for a handshake, acting as if he’s never met you.

“Morning Ms. L/N,” and then he flashes that charming smile of his. “Looking forward to working with you.”

“M-me too,” you choke out, shaking his hand. The flashbacks from two nights back flooding your vision.

Oh great. It’s only your first day of work and you’ve already fucked your boss.

Ami’s words ring in your head. You whore!

Yep. Yep, you definitely do feel like one. Unfortunately for you, Gojo’s not helping. Because the next moment, you catch something you’re positive he didn’t have on him that night.

A striking gold wedding ring.

Not that you could afford not answering, because you immediately feel his hands pulling back from under your shirt, a whimper leaving your throat as you feel the absence of his big hands from your chest.

He moves his mouth from your lips to your ear, lightly pecking the shell of it, “tell me how good you feel.” You can practically feel him grinning, your panting betraying your want for this to escalate.

You’re nothing if not prideful, though. “You’re an ass, Kujo.”

The man chuckles, pulling back, and his deep blue eyes catch you off-guard, like it did back at the club. He flicks your head playfully. Enough for you to feel it, but not enough to hurt. “My name’s Gojo, not Kujo.” He doesn’t look offended though. He seems more amused, if anything. “But you can call me Satoru.”

Gojo Satoru. That you’ll remember, for sure. You doubt you’d ever forget anyone that looks like him, but right now, what you want to do doesn’t include excessive talking.

“Right, but… Satoru?” You pause, giving him a chance to cock a brow and smirk, leaning his head forward so that the tips of your noses are touching.

“What is it, gorgeous?”

This time, you’re the one who leans forward just a little more, tipping your chin so that your lips barely grazes his own, your eyes looking into his, the alcohol in your system surprisingly not fucking with you too much. “I’d rather you use my mouth for something else other than just saying your name.”

Gojo takes your words seriously, pressing his lips against your own almost immediately. The elevator bell dings, and the both of you are lip-locked. If there was anyone out in the hallways of the hotel, neither of you noticed. They could stare for all you care. All you’re filled with is the sensation he’s giving you. You can feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins as he busies one of his hands against your clothed cunt, the other fumbling around in his pocket for the room key.

“Fuck, Satoru,” you moan, noticing how quickly he’s undone your jeans button and slipped his hand underneath the denim—and since when did you manage to make it in the room? You hadn’t even noticed until he’s pushing you down onto the soft silk sheets of his mattress, the foam sinking as you do. It’s comfortable. Very comfortable.

You’d lie there voluntarily, no questions asked.

By the time Gojo hovers above you, your jeans has been discarded to the corner of the bedroom, his brute strength enough to adjust your body position as he pleases, moving you to the center of the mattress. Your eyes flick down to his hands on your waist—they’re big. His long, lithe fingers trace down your shirt, trailing towards your underwear (and you thank your earlier self for deciding to wear a nicer pair instead of some plain white cotton, though you’re about to find out that Gojo doesn’t care much for them—he thinks they’re worn to be taken off anyway), two fingers slipping under the waistband before skillfully pulling them down to your knees.

The same two fingers swipe at your cunt, and his beautiful blue eyes make sure to gaze at your face as he licks them. “Someone’s eager, hm?”

It’s hard to calm your heart down—for someone you just met at a club, Gojo Satoru is the gorgeous one. And he knows it. His eyes are enough to hypnotize you, and his hands obviously work magic. One finger slips in, and then two, and your mouth falls open involuntarily.

Gojo can feel his pants tightening because fuck you’re so hot and he can’t stop himself from imagining all he’s going to do to you. If you’d let him, that is. Your moans feel like godsend to him. Good thing is, you seem very sane despite all the chugging you did earlier at the club. He’s thankful for that; he wants you to remember this.

All of it.

“S-Satoru.” Your fucking whines are driving him insane and he’s not even sure how much longer he can hold himself back. He’s not proud of it, but rarely does someone ever hold the power to make him feel like he’ll nut in his pants just like that. Gojo smirks as he looks down at you—you should be proud. Maybe he should praise you, please you more.

“Be a good girl, m’kay?”

He yanks his black sweater off, throwing it across the room. His hands hang your feet off the side of the bed before he puts them on his shoulders and pulls you in. It’s almost instinctive how you try to cover yourself, but Gojo’s hands are quick to stop you.

You’re quite something, Gojo thinks. Won’t blink an eyelash at whispering dirty things in his ears but then gets awfully shy in this position. His eyes fall to your glistening cunt, aware that you’re sensitive to his breaths falling against it. Borderline adorable, actually.

“No need to hide from me, pretty,” he tells you, hands moving to your inner thighs to keep them apart. His head moves down, and it’s only when you nod at him, eyes full-blown with lust, that he sticks his tongue out, licking a fat stripe up your bare cunt.

He feels your fingers intertwining in his hair, tugging at them as he eats you out, your moans getting louder and louder—if anything, they’re just fuel; motivation to make him continue. Your thighs clench around his head, and he chuckles, the vibration making your spine tingle.

Gojo pulls away for a moment, with you whining at the loss of contact. He smirks. You’re so needy for him, aren’t you? “Take your shirt off, baby.”

And you do. Slowly. Innocently. Sexily.

“That too,” Gojo says, cocking his brows, looking at your bra. It follows your shirt to hang from the side of the bed. “Such- a- good- girl.” He pecks soft kisses on your clit with each syllable, his tongue moving in and out of your pussy, replacing them with two of his fingers.

It isn’t long before he feels your pussy clenching around them, and he grins. Your back arched, his free hand on your chest, two fingers playing with your bud—you’re picture perfect.

“I’m—Satoru, fuck.” Can’t even form a coherent sentence from how good you’re feeling. It should be illegal how much you turn him on. He can’t even fucking wait anymore, so he pulls his fingers out of you, acutely aware that you’re disappointed from the pleading look in your eyes as you watch him get up.

Gojo is ready to tease you, but he catches a glint in your eye as you sit up, like the earlier shyness has temporarily dissipated as you look him in the eyes, a similar smirk tugging on your lips. Your fingers find their way to his belt, undoing it before you pull the zipper down on his pants, letting them fall to the floor.

Even through his black boxers you can see the outline of his dick, now hard, thanks to you. You keep yourself from faltering—because he’s big. He’s actually big. And here you thought his ego was the biggest thing you’d see tonight. Evidently not.

You feel his smooth fingers find their way to your chin, tipping it up to look at him again. “What do you want, baby? I’m all yours.”

Normally you’d be adverse to such cockiness. Which is exactly why you absolutely detest Gojo Satoru. How is he able to keep you captivated like this? If he was anyone else, you bet you wouldn’t even bat an eyelash. Yet here you are, slipping off his boxers and having to hold yourself back from actually gasping because you didn’t expect him to be this huge.

Your hands seem tiny as your fingers curve around him, the palm of your hand brushing against the thick vein on the underside of his cock. You don’t miss the suppressed grunt from the man standing in front of you as you start to move your hand—up, down, slightly more pressure, up and down again. You dare to flick your eyes up, catching his beautiful azure gaze mesmerised by you, a sheen of saliva covering his bottom lip as he sweeps his tongue across it, his fingers moving to your cheek, thumb caressing it gently.

His eyes, much as they threaten to break your focus, also beckon for you to do more. So you oblige, tongue leaving the confines of your mouth to give the tip of his cock small kitten licks, surprisingly enough to make him shudder slightly.

You smirk; he’s sensitive. But Gojo catches that, abruptly tipping your chin up higher. “Careful, kitten.”

It’s funny how he thinks he can lord over you just like that. Your ego won’t let him. You ignore his warning, swatting his grip away with your free hand before wrapping your mouth around his dick. And you’re thanking god that this isn’t your first time or you would’ve absolutely crumbled.

It doesn’t take long for Gojo to get greedy, moving his hips and thrusting into your mouth, slowly at first and then—even greedier. You feel him throbbing in your mouth, and even you can tell from his clenched jaw that he can’t hold back. That’s why he pulls out—hurriedly pushing you down against the mattress, one big hand fondling your right breast while the other adjusts you as he moves, your lips locked together, his tongue lingering with the taste of alcohol.

“Can’t—fucking hold back anymore. If you want me to stop, you better say so now,” he chokes out, his tip just barely touching your cunt. His eyes are half-lidded. You believe him for sure.

Even you’re ashamed to admit that you’re absolutely soaking, especially since you haven’t been able to forget the sensation of his tongue against your clit. There’s nothing intimate about this, about his eyelashes fluttering against yours, about his eyes blown with lust, about his gentle grip on your waist—but still, you’re craving for this, for him, for more.

“Don’t want you to stop,” you pause as he presses a kiss on your lips. “Want you to hurry up.”

Gojo chuckles, and the tips of your noses touch. “Telling me what to do?” He looks oddly boyish like this, a sly grin hidden behind white tresses and looking up at you through his long lashes. “Aren’t you impatient,” he teases, as though he’s one to talk.

Lucky for you though, he doesn’t make you wait any longer, pushing himself slowly into you. You bite down on your bottom lip as you try and adjust to his girth. A whimper escapes you, and you feel his thumb beckoning your lips open.

“C’mon, you can take more, can’t you?” He doesn’t sound like he’s goading you, but by now you’re not really trusting your judgement. You nod profusely though, despite it. Your vision is hazy, clouded by everything he’s making you feel. He leans closer to you, lips grazing your ear as he starts fucking into you. “That’s my girl,” he whispers, smirking as he feels you clench around him.

You don’t catch whatever he whispers in your ear next, or even feel when he bites down on your shoulder (something that’s surely to leave a mark the next day). All you can feel is the euphoria rushing through your body as he quickens his pace, sound of skin slapping skin the only thing you hear, his hands roaming your body sending you into overdrive.

On top of you, Gojo has his eyes glued on your face as he fucks into you, his gaze slowly trailing down from your neck to your shoulder—now marked by him—down to your chest, your tits bouncing as you take all of him, your pussy probably burning from the stretch. Such a good fucking girl. You’re not doing such a bad job for someone he just met. For someone who doesn’t want to tell him your name. You don’t seem like someone who goes around looking for one night stands. Just a guess. Then again, it doesn’t bring him much merit to know your name. It’d just be nice to know. And maybe forget one day.

That’s what you’re most likely going to do with him anyway.

Maybe that drinking game he played with you and your friends earlier did help him know more about you after all. Even if only a little. Doesn’t know your name but knows the most public place you’d fucked in.

(Gojo made sure not to scoff when you answered with “living room”. Kind of vanilla. Then again, what wouldn’t sound vanilla when one of your friends said “back of a lecture hall” and the other said “roller coaster”. He didn’t even want to ask how that last one worked. Also because he kind of zoned out when you started to get tipsy and laying your head on his shoulder.)

“Fuck.” God, even your fucking whine makes him feel intoxicated. He can’t help but thrust into you harder, faster. The headboard can barely take anymore, and he’s sure that the neighbouring room might complain but for you? Satoru would have no qualms paying them to shut the fuck up so he can hear you clearly.

Every whine, every sigh, every hitch in your throat. He goes faster, and harder, and faster. His mouth latches onto your chest, tongue flicking the bud—and then you moan his name and he can’t fucking take it anymore. His dick is throbbing inside you as you clench tighter, his free hand playing with your clit, rubbing circles with his thumb as he lets you moan louder and louder.

He pulls his head back up to look at you, your eyes shut tight and mouth wide open. “You wanna cum, pretty?”

“Mhm.” You respond without missing a beat. It isn’t even until now that he realises you’ve been planting your nails onto his back. Not that he minds being scratched up by you.

Gojo feels your high coming—and his own. He thrusts into you a few more times, pinching down on your clit as you both reach your highs, his kiss swallowing your moans as you writhe underneath him, taking his load inside you so well.

He pulls back, slowly watching as his cock comes out of you, covered in both of your slicks—scooping up the cum slipping out of you with his fingers before pushing them back into your cunt, with you gasping from the sensitivity.

Both of you are spent, panting as you come down from your highs. Gojo settles down beside you on the bed, too tired to care that he has a practical stranger in his hotel room. He’s about to tell you that he could call you a cab back home, but the moment he turns, he gets to see your droopy eyes.

He isn’t surprised; from what he’s heard earlier you’d had a long day. It’s not really like him to offer, but maybe it’s fine. For you.

“You can leave in the morning if you want,” he tells you as he sits up, getting one of his spare dress shirts that he swung onto the chair earlier. “I can take the living room.” (He looks at you with an obligatory smirk—living room. He’ll probably associate you with that word.)

You pout, and Gojo actually thinks it’s cute. He thinks he hates you. He actually hates you for making him think things like this.

“What am I, a monster or something?” You ask him.

It’s actually funny how you’re trying to beat around the bush. If it were any other day, Satoru would pounce at the opportunity to tease you endlessly. But he’s had a long day too. So instead of trying to annoy you, he tosses you his shirt. You catch it, cocking a brow at him.

“Aren’t you cold?” He asks you, and it’s as though you’ve only just realised you’re still naked, by the way you hurriedly put it around you, buttoning it all up too. You look good in it, better than him. He opts for just wearing a boxer and slipping into bed beside you, although both of you are careful to sleep near the edge.

Somehow cuddling seems a little too intimate for two strangers that just fucked.

Within a few minutes, both of you are out cold.

“Still not gonna tell me what happened between you and Mr. Handsome?”

“I’m hanging up now,” you tell Ami over the phone before getting into the lift.

“You whore! At least tell—”

Pressing on the red button, you sigh. Both Ami and Hana have been bugging you to spill the details of what happened that night between you and Gojo Satoru. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell them. Heck, they probably already knew, considering they saw you pulling him out of the club with you. Still, sex and tell isn’t your kind of thing.

Stuffing your phone into your back pocket, you straighten yourself up as the elevator pulls up to the highest floor. It’s your first day of work and you do not need your two best friends hounding you about your sex life and distracting you.

As you manoeuvre the corridors and enter through the double doors of Azure Corp, your new employer, you take a deep breath. The woman who interviewed you seemed nice enough. She was older, 45’s your best guess. Seemed strict and stern, but you have a gut feeling she means well. You try to look out for her short blonde hair as you walk through the office, having her instructions memorised.

Take a left after you enter, walk straight until you see the first printing room to your left, and then turn right, all the way to the end of the corridor.

And now you’re here, your right hand clenched into a fist.

“Being late on the first day is absolutely unacceptable.”

Thank god for you it’s 8:57am, just three minutes shy. You could’ve come earlier, if only the trains weren’t so damn packed.

You knock the door, three tight raps before you realise what the words embossed on a black plaque on the door read. Your eyes widen as the door starts to open, the name GOJO SATORU disappearing from sight and making way for the man himself.

In front of you, the man whose dress shirt you stole after that night. And beside him, the woman who interviewed you.

“Oh hi, Y/N, good morning!” She’s greeting you, but you can’t tear your eyes off of him. He’s as surprised as you are, blank stare as Mrs. Souseki introduces you. “Oh and Mr Gojo, this is L/N Y/N. She’ll be taking over me as your assistant from now on.”

The words you try to say catch at your throat. But Gojo recovers faster. He holds a hand out for a handshake, acting as if he’s never met you.

“Morning Ms. L/N,” and then he flashes that charming smile of his. “Looking forward to working with you.”

“M-me too,” you choke out, shaking his hand. The flashbacks from two nights back flooding your vision.

Oh great. It’s only your first day of work and you’ve already fucked your boss.

Ami’s words ring in your head. You whore!

Yep. Yep, you definitely do feel like one. Unfortunately for you, Gojo’s not helping. Because the next moment, you catch something you’re positive he didn’t have on him that night.

A striking gold wedding ring.