honey ♡

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"oh, lemme help you." you say, walking up to him as you start taking out some plates for yourself, your boyfriend, and the rest of the frat boys — that being toji and sukuna who are busy prepping their own protein-packed breakfast and blending their protein shakes.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"thanks. you're always so helpful." suguru says with a kind smile, plopping some toast on the plates you'd laid out. your face warms up at that, your lips curving up into a little smile.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"you flatter me too much." you reply, going over to the fridge to take out some whipped cream, maple syrup, and two cartons of chocolate milk. all for your dear boyfriend. you don't know how this man can eat all of these sugary things so early in the morning — though it would explain his hyperactivity! and like a kid, he snatches one of the cartons from you and immediately chugs it all down.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"it's not flattery if it's the truth now, is it?" he muses, scrapping the eggs off the pan and dividing them up all on each plate.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"stop flirting with my girl." satoru pouts as he throws away the now empty carton, wrapping his arms around your waist and planting a sloppy kiss to your cheek.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"i am not flirting, idiot." suguru replies, flicking his forehead. "just saying it as it is. she's a real sweetheart." he hands you a plate that visibly has a lot more eggs and toast on it compared to the others, giving you that kindhearted smile of his as he starts up the coffee machine, knowing you were going to have some with your meal. you've been over the house so much, he knows your routine by heart!

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀the other two boys by the kitchen counter nod in agreement at suguru's statement, despite seeming to be preoccupied with chugging down their protein shakes and gorging down on their food. you can't help the flurry of giggles that leave your lips, your face growing even warmer. "well . . he's right about that." satoru chuckles in your ear, placing another wet smooch to your cheeks.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"stop that~" you mutter, lightly smacking the side of his face. "now can you grab me that vanilla syrup i bought the other day? i wanna try it with my coffee."

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"yes mommy."

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀the whole room goes still. everyone is silent. satoru's cheeks flush the brighest pink hue. and you're standing there frozen in his embrace.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀". . yes what?" toji repeats, doing his best to stifle his laughter.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"yeah what'd you just call her?" sukuna chimes in, a devious smirk curving upwards on his lips.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"i didn't think that was the dynamic between the two of you . . but hey, they say to expect the unexpected, don't they?" suguru pipes in, wiggling his eyebrows playfully at your boyfriend who's doing his best to avoid eye contact with his frat bros. "i had always pegged you as the submissive type, anyways."

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"what the —!" satoru exclaims, letting go off you as he chases suguru around the house who can only laugh hysterically. and you're still stuck in place, cheeks now scalding your skin from the embarrassment bubbling inside you. your body is turned away from the two other guys who are grinning from ear to ear, silently watching the hilarious scene unfolding before them.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀the chase soon comes to an end when you call out to satoru, voice buttery and soft. to an outsider, it sounds so sweet and so mellow, not a tad bit malicious. but to him . . oh, he knows that tone. he knows exactly what that means as he trudges back to you looking like a cute wounded puppy. if he had ears, they'd be drooping so adorably（and they'd be so fluffy too）— that's what you think to yourself.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀he laces his arms back around your torso, pulling you flush to his bare chest as you pour in some coffee and milk into your cup. it's just silence for a while as you drizzle the vanilla syrup to your morning drink, stirring it slowly and the clinking noises of the spoon against the cup echoing in the kitchen.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀the other boys seem to have forgotten what'd just happened a few moments ago, even seemingly forgetten that you guys are still in the vicinity. so you take a sip of your coffee, turning around to face him with that sickeningly sweet smile of yours that has satoru's dick starting to chub up inside his sweats. because he knows what you're thinking, what you're imagining of doing to him later today . .

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"you're getting it tonight." you whisper lowly in his ear, grabbing your breakfast plate. "i'm gonna have my fun~" you quip before sauntering towards the dining table, sitting down with your cup of coffee and food, and settling yourself with the boys as you talk about your plans for the day. and satoru is still standing in the middle of the kitchen room, tugging at his sweats to try and hide his growing bulge, doing all he can to stop dreaming about what you'd be doing to him tonight.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀──── ୨୧ ────

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"you're such a pathetic fucking pup." you tut, pumping satoru's thick cock, your strokes fast, rough, and mean. a slew of needy, desperate mewls spill from his parted lips as he tugs on the fluffy pink cuffs that bind his hands behind his back. globs of tears are beginning to form in the corner of his eyes, satoru feeling so overwhelmed yet so frustrated at the continous denial of orgasm. god knows how many times you've denied him at this point.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"i-i'm sorry about this morning, baby." he whimpers. "the words just slipped out! it was habitual!" the way his bottom lips are jutting out to form the most adorable pout and a single tear run down his face makes your heart swoon and you almost cave in to let him off the hook . . almost . .

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀you slap his dick hard which makes his whole body jolt from the impact — though not to say he doesn't enjoy it, what with the beads of pre dripping down from his flushed tip. "and see what your little mistake did? your friends were making fun of me." you pout, huffing dramatically as you start to fist him once again, but this time stroking him agonizingly slow, almost like you were bored.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"fuckkkk babyyy!" he cries out, tears now running down from his glossy eyes, the droplets glinting under the light. he tips his head back, hips bucking up into the air to try and attain some more friction, some more feeling, just more anything. you don't give him that satisfaction though, slapping him across the face, his cheeks turning red from the impact. he sniffles and pleads with you, "imsorryimsorryimsorry!"

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀you, again, suddenly stop your ministrations which only makes him whine louder, full on sobbing now because he feels like he's going to lose his mind. he feels like his mind has been turned into a puddle, just craving that sweet, sweet release of pleasure. "you promise you're sorry?" you ask, pressing dove-like smooches over his face which turns a subtle pink from how soft the gesture is, especially considering how you'd been treating him up until this moment.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"yes mommy, i promise." he weeps, his bottom lip quivering so cutely, his big blue eyes peering at you with that adorable glossed over look. "i've been a bad boy. i'm so sorry, mommy." oh, there's something so gratifying witnessing your boyfriend fall apart in front of you . . all because of you!

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀you pretend to hum in thought as your dainty fingers trail on the underside of his throbbing, red cock that's begging for release. you keep doing so for a few seconds, contemplating on whether you're satisfied with his apology or not . . then you meet his gaze — he's begging you with his eyes, those pliant orbs boring into yours, trying to tell you that the punishment should end here and he should get the reward he's been needing for for the past hour.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"good boy, toru~" you coo, wrapping your hand back around his cock, stroking it just the way you know makes him see stars. "i think . . my good boy deserves to cum~"

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀that's all he needs to hear as he spurts out his warm creamy seed all over his abdomen in just a few single strokes, some of it dripping down on to the sheets below — there is just so much of it. he's sniffling with tears of joy, the intensity of the blissful orgasm simply all too much for him!

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"you're such a good boy f'me." you coo, pressing gentle kisses all over his face again. he practically purrs as he rubs his head against yours, returning each kiss to you.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"now can you please take these off, baby? i wanna fuck you so bad." satoru pleas, trying to break free from the cuffs. he's been restrained long enough and he craves nothing more than to feel your velvety pussy sink down on his cock, to feel the way your walls choke his shaft and to hear your honeyed voice as you take him.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀"nope!" you chirp, pushing his back to the headboard as you straddle him. you slowly grind your pussylips against his dripping cock, quiet moans leaving both his lips and yours. "i'm not done with you just yet."

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀jeez . . satoru hates （loves） this — his usual sweet and shy girl making him beg for what he wants. is he going to do it all though? oh yes. a million times yes. he's right where he wants to be！

Ignoring the fact that you make up for it most months, it is all the more annoying to see him lounging around as soon as you get home. Especially when the house feels like what you imagine the inside of hell's darkest ass crack to be. Too much movement would surely result in one of you passing out from overheated exhaustion.

It's with great urgency that you strip yourself of your things, purposefully making an unnecessary amount of noise as you toss your keys onto the nearby counter. The sound seems to pull Toji's attention away from the TV ahead of him, earning a lazy turn of his head as he glances back to you.

He can't even get a full greeting out before you scoff.

"Toji," His shoulders slump in instant reaction to the sound of scolding in your voice. It's way too fucking hot for you to start an argument with him now. "You've been home all day and you still haven't fixed anything."

He grunts from across the way, turns his attention back to the TV, and then rolls his eyes, "Can't work in the heat, doll."

"You wouldn't have to if you fixed it as soon as I said something months ago." You throw back at him, pulling your body through hot air just to get to your fridge.

You wanted to be disappointed to see that there's no water in the freezer nor fridge, really. But when you look back over to where Toji's been sitting on his ass all dat—spotting more empty water bottles than you can count—you find an expected wave of disappointment slither into you.

"Said sorry for that already, didn't I?" He asks, the lack of true care in his voice doing nothing to ease your irritation with him.

At this rate, you'd be sending out offers for a new roommate by tomorrow morning.

The freezer is opened back up for a moment, your hand diving in to try and get some sort of cooled relief, even if only for a second. Unfortunately for you, that seems to be yet another thing in your apartment in need of fixing.

You let the freezer door slam and your forehead follows after it as you rest yourself against its outside. Sighing, "Sorry doesn't fix anything, Toji."

You couldn't see it but he was smiling at that. The only reason he's lasted this long in this apartment with you is because he doesn't mind your nagging too much—it keeps him on his toes most times. But after not listening to you for months, he wonders if he'll actually get in trouble with you this time around.

When he turns to get another look at you, he's met with the sight of your back as you make way towards the bathroom. Toji figured you're off to shower in hopes of cooling yourself off in the process.

Unfortunately for you, the building you live in has the opposite issue most complexes do and instead of running out of hot water, your place has an issue producing cold water. This wouldn't be so bad if the person who showered before you was conscious of how much he used.

But when annoyingly mild tempered water hits your fingers, you're left knowing exactly who to blame. Again.

He may enjoy living with you because he doesn't mind hearing you cold him, however you are slowly starting to dread sharing this apartment with him more and more as each day lugs on.

——

After a warm shower, you tuck yourself off into your bedroom only to find that it is undoubtedly the hottest room thus far. You try to ignore it as you pull on some shorts and a t-shirt that won't have you drenched in sweat come next morning but naturally it's difficult to do so once you lay yourself down.

You toss and turn against your sheets—comforter practically tossed to the floor, and body already beginning to perspire in a thin layer of sweat—until you manage to doze off for a solid ten minutes. Apparently that was all it took for your body to decide that sleeping under this heat was going to be impossible.

Which is how you end up out in the living room. Toji wasn't occupying the couch anymore so you tried to sleep there, figuring that if he could spend the whole day in one spot, you could spend a night sleeping there and it would provide you just the slightest bit of coolness in comparison to what you bedroom had given you.

Yet, every slight shift in your movement somehow made you impossibly hotter. The couch cushions did nothing but toast your skin and the humidity in the air led you into peeling yourself right off of the furniture and trudging towards the last known resort.

Toji's bedroom.

Now, you're no stranger to your roommate being quite the pervert—which is why you avoid his bedroom at all costs—but sometime back during the winter season, you do recall a few weeks were your apartment's heating system gave out and it was established then that Toji's bedroom had been the chilliest. He ended up sleeping in your room for some nights because of that, cuddling up against you in the name of sharing body heat.

So now that it's summertime, you're standing outside of his door hoping that something similar still applies to the temperature of his room. Your room is obviously the hottest, the living room and main area of the apartment barely fairs any better, and all that leaves his room to be hopefully a few degrees lighter than everywhere else.

You push his room door open sluggishly, nearly doused in sweat from head to toe as you trudge towards his bed and smack at his foot while you walk by. "You up?" your voice cuts through the air carelessly, earning a low grunt from the man sprawled out across his mattress. "Cool, move over."

That seems to wake Toji right up. His eyes peel open and he lets out a huff heavy enough to add to the heat occupying the rest of the apartment, but neither of you have the energy to say anything about it. "Why're you in here?" he asks as he scoots his large body over to give you some room.

For a short moment—and a short moment only—Toji wonders if the heat has finally made you come to your senses where he's concerned. He hoped that maybe a wet dream involving him brought you into his bedroom.

The weight of your body makes the bed dip in a bit as you shuffle onto his sheets right beside him, instantly melting into the faint frigidity it provides, and letting out a short sigh. "It's cooler in your room, so I'm sleeping in here tonight. You better get that shit fixed tomorrow."

Toji looks over and feels the excitement he had to share a bed with you rapidly die inside him as he's met with the sight of your back facing him. This wasn't the worst scenario possible, but he was really wishing for something more interesting to have led you into this position next to him.

He doesn't say anything in response to you with his mouth and decides on letting his eyes speak for him with the way they slide down your body. The shirt you have on was hugging your torso due to how much you'd been sweating, glued to every slight curve and dip of your frame, and leaving him unable to look away quickly enough.

It didn't take a genius to see that you were at ease beside him rather quickly. Toji is suddenly very appreciative for the slightly chiller conditioning of his bedroom. Technically it's still hot—as too much movement could quickly result in exhaustion just as it would in any other area of the apartment—but with you laying beside him in shorts small enough to drive him insane, he figures it's all worth it.

Meanwhile, you don't have to be facing Toji to know his eyes are on you. You could practically feel the way his gaze crawled over you, eventually settling onto the scarce fabric of your shorts that did little to conceal the entirety of your ass. There's a sudden and prominent urge to adjust the way your clothes are sitting on you, and Toji watches as you slowly move a hand to tug your shorts down an inch.

The scar at the corner of his lips shifts as his mouth twitches and he fights off a smirk.

He would never touch you without your permission or anything like that, but he was aware that you knew the real effects you had on him. Even laying beside him was enough to make his hips shift against the bed.

There was only so much space between your body and his, and his mattress wasn't the largest thing in the world so most movement was easily acknowledgeable. Even so, you decided to ignore it as best as you could.

Even though you could tell his hand had lifted from his side and moved somewhere towards his legs. Your eyes squeezed shut and you hoped silently that Toji wouldn't do what you figured he was about to.

Surely it was too hot for that.

Right?

At first he wasn't going to do anything. It started off as his fingers going off to pinch and tug at the fabric of his gym shorts, giving the steadily rising erection in between his legs some space to breathe. Then he told himself he wouldn't give it any attention and try to sleep it away.

Toji was on the same page as you in the beginning, he really was. Jerking off with you trying to sleep beside him was way too hot of an activity under all this warmth.

And yet, he's palming at his dick within the next twenty minutes. You drifted off just enough for him to be able to move without you noticing, and while he didn't touch you, he did lean over to glance over your shoulder to make sure you were fast asleep before his hand had wrapped around the bulge that'd formed against his shorts.

You'd shift around in your sleep a little and he'd twitch against his hand, watching the way your hip looks adjusting against the bed. Oh, the things he'd give to perch his hand there instead, turning his body over to cup yours and rubbing the outline of his hard cock up against the natural curve of your ass instead of his palm like some loser.

The thought alone brought his bottom lip up in between his teeth. Then he was moving his hands beneath his shorts and letting out a quiet breath of air. He didn't intend to jerk off like this. Seriously.

When his hand first makes contact with his dick, he shudders. Toji's tugged at his cock in thought of you over the years more times than he could count, but somehow this was different. He'd never done it next to you like this, where leaning over a couple inches brought your scent into his nose and the natural warmth of your body closer to intertwine with his.

Even back when he'd shared a bed with you during the winter he managed to control himself each night and refused to stroke himself. Well, right next to you, at least. He most definitely got off like a whore the very second you were gone.

Toji ends up spitting into the palm of his hand as quietly as he can manage before he pulls his cock free and rubs at the head whilst staring at your body. You seemed so upset with him earlier, sending those slight jabs his way. He's sure if it was a bit cooler, you would've cursed him clean out like you normally do.

But just the thought of the few comments you'd made thus far is enough to have him leaking into his hand as he finally wraps his fingers around his thick shaft and jerks off. The sounds of his actions are a bit loud, schlick after schlick after sopping schliiick. Technically you should've woken up, but the fact that you didn't made him all the more horny.

He knows you'd get annoyed if you caught him like this—the fact that he can't even handle you sleeping in his bed is definitely enough to piss you off.

Little did he know, you were pretending to sleep the entire time. You were in and out of your slumber, sure, but you certainly weren't able to get a full night's rest when the sound of your roommate touching his wet cock next to you was loud enough to drive any woman insane. There was an image of it somewhere in your head, courtesy of accidentally walking in on him in the bathroom a couple times in the past, so it was a little difficult to sleep with those thoughts combined with his strokes all in one hot night.

Not to mention the way he was panting behind you with not one care in the world for how noisy he was. Hell, some of his breaths managed to slither towards the back of your neck.

You made the mistake of adjusting yourself again and accidentally pushed back towards him, your ass nearly making contact with the side of his body. Toji had to grip at the base of his dick to stop himself from cumming just then, his next breath choking its way out of him before he could help it, and his other hand moving to pull his shirt up.

He went to bite down on the fabric to hopefully help with the sounds threatening to spill from his lips but it didn't help much.

The man resumed with his strokes and it wasn't long before you felt something land on your butt in thick spurts.

Despite the fact that you already had your eyes closed, they squeezed shut a little harder as you fought the urge to flinch. You hoped desperately that what you just felt wasn't what you thought it was. There was no way Toji managed to cum on your ass while you were "sleeping", right?

You figure that right then is as good a moment as any to stop pretending to be asleep and let yourself yawn—giving him a sign that you've stirred awake. Toji's body tenses up almost immediately, his eyes widening a fraction as he realizes what exactly he just did. He gulps, frantically looking around the bed to see what he can use as an excuse for the white mess currently drooling down the side of your ass.

Fairly enough, he has half a mind to snap a picture before you turn over. Just so he can have something to remember this by, y'know?

He doesn't though, considering how he moves to tuck his dick back into his shorts and clears his throat.

After which he moves to prop himself up on one of his elbows, and you feel something brushing against your butt. You can't help the way your eyes broaden.

Then you peek back at him from over your shoulder, and your gazes meet for a breif moment. There's not an ounce of guilt on his face and he only holds the eye contact with you for a few seconds before he looks back down to focus on what he's doing.

You follow along with the redirection and angle yourself back just enough to catch sight of what exactly is brushing against you. You see a cloth in his hand and watch silently for a few seconds as he wipes you clean.

Somewhere in your mind, you wondered if he was going to casually explain that he just came on you and then try to go to sleep like it was no big deal.

To your surprise, neither of those things happen.

The next bit of eye contact that's exchanged between the two of you is awkward. He's still wiping and you're just starring at him as try to figure out what you're supposed to say to him. What exactly was the proper way to react in this situation?

You're too hot to argue, too tired to be disgusted, and fainly aroused since you've always had a mutual attraction for the man that you've been trying to ignore for as long as you've been living with him.

“Sorry,” Toji’s the first to break the ice. “Had this in the bed,” he moves his other hand up and within it is a convienent bottle of lotion. Part of you wanted to laugh at him because of course he has enough junk in his bed to use as a cover up for what he'd really just spilt on you. "Saw some of it got on ya'," he finishes off with a half-apologetic grin on his lips.

You obviously knew that wasn't true since you heard every little detail of what he'd been doing—from spitting into his hand, to thoughtlessly huffing out your name under his breath. Toji wasn't fooling anyone here, but you'd let it slide for now.

“Might wanna change out of these,” he suggests in reference to your shorts, tapping at your butt once he's done wiping you off, “I could lend you somethin’, or—“

“No, it’s fine.” is all you say before you turn your head away.

With no warning, Toji ends up watching how you slide your hands down and swiftly remove your shorts—tossing them off the bed and then laying yourself back down as if to sleep.

He blinks.

Then his eyes unfortunately find themself on your panties because surely you were doing this on purpose now. Coming into his room this late because of the heat, sleeping next to him and nearly rubbing your ass against his body, and now clad in nothing more than a thin shirt and even thinner panties?

If he squinted hard enough at the right angle, he swears he'd catch sight of your pussy.

You heard him scoff behind you, then the weight in the bed shifts around as he decides to pay no mind to your attire this time. He already got off, so naturally there should be no need to go again.

…Even if you're clearly testing his patience.

——

Minutes fly by. Neither of you get a wink of rest.

You're starring blankly at the wall in front of you and Toji's left blindly looking up at the ceiling. Both of you tried to go to sleep, honestly.

But Toji kept adjusting his legs to stop the constant twitching of his cock and you repeatedly rubbed your legs together as if to lightly soothe the ache that'd came about after that whole fiasco of his seed ending up on you.

At this point the only thing occupying Toji's bedroom were two idiots in heat. Whether or not that meant heat in the literal sense or in the physical sense was beyond understanding to either of you.

After thirty minutes of you two staring into space and waiting on the other person to make a move, both of you manage to get some rest.

Though, it doesn't take much longer for you guys to realize that this was the worst possible outcome. Somewhere in your sleeping, your bodies naturally find one another. You'd think that under the hot air some distance would be created, but it seems as though you both had unintentionally different plans.

The next time you wake up, it's to the steady sound of something thumping against your ear. When your eyes flutter open, you're met with a naked chest and the feeling of something weighty wrapped around you.

The weight in question seems to be Toji's arm and the thumping you hear is coming from his beating heart. You lift your head a little to look up at his face and he's already giving you a half-lidded, groggy stare.

“It’s hot as shit in here ‘n you decide to lay on me? You’re tryin’ to kill me.” He mumbles, the very vibration of his deep voice involuntarily causing you to shift against him.

Both of your limbs are already tangled with one another, so the next movement of your body wakes you up fully as your clit presses somewhere up against his thigh.

You try to nudge at him playfully to distract yourself from the sensation that invoked, “No one’s trying to kill you, Toji. Hush.”

None the wiser, your roommate tries lifting his legs to move over a bit and accidentally grinds the firm muscle you'd already been pressed against, into you. You turn your face away just in time to hide the expression that tugs out of you, but fail to swallow down the sound that follows.

“Mmnh,” The sound floats out of you before you can control it.

Then Toji's brows scrunch up—as if he has any room (literally) to be confused, “Fuck was that?”

Your head shakes, “Nothing.”

That singular word flips some type of switch in his head, resulting in that same leg lifting up a few inches in between yours, and simultaneously pushing your body further up against his whilst rubbing between the dampened fabric concealing your core. Your jaw falls open helplessly this time and Toji eyes the way your hand flies down to his chest as if to grab at it.

Technically you were trying to brace yourself, but the breathy bit of air you release along with all the movement makes him cock a brow.

“You sweatin’ down here?” Toji asks bluntly, now dragging his leg back down just to cop a bit of a better feel than the first time.

It would be obvious to anyone with eyes that neither of you were in your right mind at the moment. He was openly teasing you and you weren't shutting it down like you normally do. Perhaps it was the heat or the lack of proper rest under it—but either way—the two of you were clearly falling victim to the same sensations.

Your lashes flutter again and you hunch forward towards him a bit, “That’s not-," his leg adjusts again, the bulky muscle in his thigh flexing, "Toji.”

“What? That’s not what?” He grabs at your chin and tugs your face up to look at him properly, “Talk to me, doll. Tell me what that is I’m feelin’.”

The forced eye contact makes you throb. You suppose right then that the heat had finally gotten to you. Otherwise you wouldn't be feeling the way you do at the moment.

Right?

Your body adjust against him slightly and you fight the urge to let your eyes fall back as pleasure jolts throughout your body from the feel of your clit catching the firm build of his leg. “It’s not sweat, Toji.” You admit honestly.

There's a singular beat of silence that passes, filled only with your hardly discreet way of grinding against his leg, and him aiding you through every faint gyration.

“Mh.” His hum rumbles lowly, “So, you’re horny.”

You drop your face down into his chest out of embarrassment and you playfully smack at him, “Don’t say it like that!”

“Say it like what? It’s true." Toji cocks his head over and watches how your body is betraying your embarrassment. Then he finds himself smirking all over again as he his face back toward you, lips angling to your ear, "Your pussy’s droolin’ all against my thigh right now—should I have said it like that instead?”

You almost moan, “N-No."

“Hah.” Now he's smirking in full force, hands having gone to your sides just to feel your body twitching as they slide lower and lower, “Go ahead ‘n move your hips—rub one out against me, baby.”

There's a groan that snakes out of your throat in response before your hand curls into a frustrated ball against the planes of his abs, “Don’t call me that.”

Toji's hands grip at your hips and his voice seductively caresses itself throughout your eardrums, “Want me to do it for you?" Your head shakes in response to his question and he tuts, "Alright then rub that pussy against me, lemme feel her real good.”

And what more permission did you need?

You pluck your body away from being sandwiched to his, sitting up at some half-angle and let your hips buck forward just once. Toji smiles and wastes not one second in dragging his clammy palm around to properly grope at the fat of your ass.

“Mhm,” he hums encouragingly, to which you let off an airy sound that has his cock aching for attention all over again. “There you go. Keep making yourself feel good, pretty girl.”

“Toji," his name leaves you in something just short of a moan, and it's overtly apparent now that both of you are overcome with a mutual neediness.

His hand squeezes at your ass with each rock 'n shy rut of your hips—guiding you with your steady grinding over his thigh. Then you feel your clit roll at a rather juicy angle, quickly resulting in your upper half flopping back down against Toji.

He feels a hot pant fan out across his chest and he has to bite at his lip again to stop himself from making all kinds of noises. This was everything he'd fantasied about and more if he was being completely honest.

“So fuckin’ sexy,” Toji compliments with a greedy tug of your body, weeping a webby lather of precum from the slit of his cock in reaction to having your tits pressed against his naked skin—your perked nipples rubbing against him in a fashion near to the way your clit traveled his thigh beyond your panties. “My dick’s gonna start hurtin’ if I don’t do something. Can’t keep watching you like this.”

You're the one holding back responses now, instead answering him with a sudden kiss against his left pec. Toji's lips separate and he breathes out something soft once your hand slips down to the waistband of his shabby shorts.

“Can I?” You whisper against his skin, lips smearing.

Toji looks at you like you just asked him the dumbest question in the world. Then he scoffs, “Go ahead.“

You waste no time in dipping your hand beneath the dark fabric to haul his cock free. In your hand is a weight nothing could've prepared you for.

Toji's got a freakishly heavy cock, to say the least. It's massive within your fingers and when you look down at it, you almost moan from the sight alone.

Even though his room was rather dark, there was enough moonlight spilling in from the distant window to have the cum gathered around his plump head glistening. Your thumb pushed up and slipped right against that pretty slit of his, earning a sharp crack in his breathing.

Toji feels your the pad of your thumb applying pressure before he groans. Then you stroke downwards towards his base, feeling the dark, sweaty hairs of surrounding it tickle your skin.

“Shit," You mutter.

He—annoyingly—starts smirking at you again, “Big, ain’t it?”

Your eyes roll, then you turn your head back up to look at him, “Shut up.”

The next few minutes consist of you jerking him off whilst you continue grinding against his leg. Toji mutters filth under his breath that you're too horny to hear, and both of you are now sweating against one another for entirely different reasons.

Toji expects this act to be the very peak of his expectations, but amid your perfected strokes—because fuck if your hand isn't the best thing he's felt around his dick in weeks—your mouth meets his chest again, and he's quickly caught off guard by the way your lips wrap around one of his nipples. Your tongue swirls aimlessly, tugging the bud further past your lips whilst indulging in two other fruitless acts of pleasure simultaneously.

For a while you were convinced that Toji's laziness translated in the bed as well since he damn sure wasn't doing much aside from letting you rub all over him in every available aspect.

That was until he felt your breaths coming in shorter and your hand gripping at his cock a bit tighter to brace yourself for something. It was rather adorable how quickly you tensed up against him as your orgasm approached. All he could do was sit there and swallow down his groans as you gripped his cock and moaned against his nipple, clit throbbing at his thigh and cunt leaking your panties into a soaking mess.

The moment your body starts to convulse and he realizes you're cumming, his hand slides under your panties and he palms the bare skin of your ass before applying a hefty bit of pressure—weighing your body harder down against his thigh so you have no room to run from the orgasm that crashes over you.

Feeling you cum against his leg is easily one of the best feelings in the world in his opinion. He would have the air conditioning broken for months if this would be the result every night.

Not that he tells you this, of course.

As you're panting and trying to steady your breathing, Toji finally decides to stop being lazy and causes your hand to fall away from his length as he suddenly shifts about to push you over.

You land on your back and gasp, blinking rapidly before he's positioning himself above you—cock dangling nastily and sloppily kissing against the skin of your naked thigh. Toji's big arms bracket the sides of you body and you stare up at him innocently, as if you didn't just rub one out on his thigh and leech onto him throughout the entire ordeal.

“What’re you doing?” you ask.

“You want me to fuck you, right?” Toji hums, abruptly hooking an arm under one of your knees and lifting your leg up. Then he's doing the same to your other leg and your breath is tangling around somewhere in your lungs. You're barely given a proper moment to process what's going in before he's dipping down in between your clammy legs as if it's second nature, "Gotta make you cum for me first."

"But I just—"

"Nah," Toji's smiles once he's got a face full of your pussy in front of him—your flimsy panties the only thing between his starving mouth and what was about to serve as a refreshment for him, "Not like that. On my tongue."

That's the only warning he gives you before diving in.

It should've been too hot for half of the things you two had done so far and yet here you were anyway—letting him grind the entirety of his mouth against the gorgeously swollen mound of your pussy, his teeth baring out to tug your panties over to the side so he could properly suction his lips to you. Your underwear is kept to the side by a singular thumb that he angles over, and his mouth is nothing short of disgusting against you.

In fact, the entire lower half of his face is nasty when met with your pussy. The tip of his nose nuzzles against your frazzled clit, and his lips motion outwardly before he sucks the slick out from in between your folds—tongue coming through to lap at it as if rewarded. When he groans, you feel the sound thunder against the entire lower half of your body.

Toji's busy going to town until you both are a mess of mixed sweat and pleasureful tears. Your hand found his hair somewhere in between his long tongue curving up inside you, and since then you've been grinding upwards against him, practically riding his face whilst he fucked you right back down into the matress with his mouth alone.

The same mattress of which rocked with both of your combined movements. The volume of your moaning and his groaning was surely enough to earn a noise complaint from a nearby neighbor the following morning but obviously neither of you cared.

Between Toji's tongue and the heat that continued to make you sweat into his sheets at a ridiculous rate, your next orgasm comes far heavier than the first one had. So much so that you were squirming all against your roommate, trying to push at his head as if you didn't want to cum—your poor mind scrambled from everything that'd taken place thus far.

It's not until after you spill something weepy into his mouth that he peels his mouth off of you and wipes at his mouth, licking the remnants that smear across his hand immediately after.

Yet even then Toji doesn't give you much time to recover. If anything, he gives you no time to recover whatsoever.

Your eyes are still stinging from prickly tears of pleasure, and as you're blinking them away, you catch sight of him crawling his way back up over you. Next thing you know and his mouth meets yours in a singular, haphazard kiss that consists of a slanted tongue sloppily breaking past your lips and a groan pouring into your opened mouth.

Then his cock slips against your exposed folds, a thumping vein felt mapping the outskirts of your sensitive clit before he angles one hand down to grip his base. Your body latches onto his all over again, arms wrapping around his neck despite the sweat on your skin making the both of you slip 'n slide against one another.

Toji smiles into his next set of smooches, trailing his kisses down to your jaw, and eventually the warm side of your neck before feeling you roll your body upwards—cunt kissing the head of his dick as he slides it downwards in one heavy motion.

“Awh, look at you grindin’ on my tip like that. You want this fat cock inside you, huh?” His voice slathers itself into your skin and it's making you impossibly hotter underneath him, but you couldn't be bothered with it right now. Which is exactly why you nod in response, and he leans up a little to look you in the eyes whilst releasing his length from his grip, “Yeahh? Here, take it then—let me see you put it in.”

No seconds are wasted as you dip your hand down and comfortably wrap your fingers around him, giving him a couple tugs that he can't help but glance down at. Toji eventually obeys your short tugs 'n pulls by letting his body follow the motion until his tip is getting snagged by your goopy entrance—globs of slick sobbing all over his first few pudgy inches.

The very moment he starts sliding into you, you're whining and he's left moaning above you.

“Ohmygodd,” His dick easily stretches you out a bit more than you were expecting it to, the sheer girth of him jerking a gaspy little call of his name out of your lungs, “Toji-, Toji!”

“What, what? What’s wrong?” He pauses rather quickly to ensure he's not hurting you or something, hardly even halfway inside you and staring down at your twisting face with worried eyes.

You’re panting, nails having moved to dig into his arms already, “You’re too fuckin’ big.”

That makes Toji grin before he huffs, “No such thing.” and pulls back to spank your cunt with the weight of his cock a couple times. He only tops to spit at his four fingers before smacking you with his dick again, inching in afterwards and reassuring you with a rather gently murmured, “She can take me.”

Your head shakes but there’s an eager glimmer in your eye whilst you whisper back to him warningly, “Just… go slow.”

“Mmmh, I’ll try,” He tells you before leaning down to kiss your cheek and whispering, “Just for you.”

Then he's nudging his way into you—inch by inch until his chubby balls are left flush against your sweat-glossed skin and his tip is bumping against your hilt.

He looks down and sees his cock bulging against your skin. Then he thumbs at your clit and tutts—popping a pout at how puffy your pussy lips are around his dick already. “Look at that slutty pussy—she knows how to take cock juuuust fine.”

Your walls constrict around him just once and the next thing you know, Toji's rocking himself in 'n out of you perfectly. Your insides seem to mold to the shape of him in a matter of minutes, getting used to his wide size and taking him in deeper as he moves along.

The sounds of sex practically cloud the room, his cock fucking into you faster than you can keep up with and your mushy walls sucking him in farther than he can comprehend. Sweat drips off of his body and onto your and the both of you are an utter mess of one another.

Every now and then he'd lean down to kiss you but the gesture always comes shabbier than the last, lips maligning across one another whilst warm saliva is exchanged and left across both of your faces.

Your hand makes the mistake of moving to his lower abdomen and pushing at his body just a few seconds after he starts fucking you down into the mattress—the bed rocking and shaking beneath your bodies—and Toji seems ticked off for half a second.

Then he nods his chin at your wrist, "Move your fuckin' hand and feel it, feel that dick inside you. Stretchin' you out real good."

He's not entirely sure if it's his words or the way he starts plowing forward even faster, but the slippery squelches one of those invokes from you most certainly is not something he imagines. Then your moans increase in volume and Toji figures he doesn't need a neighbor scolding the two of you for this tomorrow so he brings a hand up to your chin and then props his thumb up to your bottom lip.

“Open up, doll.” He orders plainly, to which you take his finger in without him even having to ask. Toji smiles at the sight, “Atta girllll, now suck on it.”

You do exactly that for him, the action suppressing how loud your moans are for a while until his cock knocks across your cervix and leads you to bite down on his thumb. The sensation is sudden and sharp, which nearly makes Toji's eyes cross for a moment.

Words couldn't describe what that little bit of pain did to him, honestly. All you both know is that within the next few seconds, something creamy is flooding your insides and making you two many degrees hotter than you'd been earlier.

Your brains turn off in sync after that and he's just thrusting mindlessly for another minute or two, as if to make sure he's properly bred you or something. Then his fingers move to the side of your neck and his thumb slides out of your mouth—leaving a thin trail of saliva in its wake—and his entire hand goes off to cradle the back of your head.

You gasp once Toji lifts you up from the bed in one, freakishly strong tug, still humping his dick into you slightly before your mouths collide somewhere in the air. You're hauled all the way up until he's sitting back on his heels and you're appropriately sat on top of him. Both of your arms and hands are everywhere on each other's body, and it feels like something utterly depraved as taken over.

The kisses you share is a slop of tugged lips and sucked tongues, mingled with breathy moans and murmurs of your names until his hands find the underside of your thighs and move to bounce you up and down on his cock.

A whine is punctured directly out of you as you're lifted, gravity aiding Toji in plopping you right back down onto his cum-smothered base. Then his mouth finds one of your tits and he's drooling all over you.

You thought you were unsure of what had gotten into you but apparently Toji was far worse off. It's like the heat of the room was of no concern anymore. The only thing that mattered to him was having your body be thoroughly appreciated by every part of him he had to offer.

He's even mumbling into you while his tongue swirls around your nipple, “So fuckin’ hot it here,” he puffs, “Making me lose my goddamn mind—fuckin’ you like this. Hahhh.”

You're babbling nonsense with your arms wrapped around hims head, “Tojiiii-, aanh! You feel s-so good inside me.”

Which, makes him feel all proud inside for the nth time tonight, “I know I do." His hands grasp at the thick of your hips again and he squeezes your skin just once before moving you vertically around the sticky inches of his length, “Feel good when I bounce you up ‘n down my dick like this too?”

You’re nodding stupidly. Then his hands find your asscheeks and he's groping you the way he's always wanted to.

Plap after plap after plap bounces against the walls and his cum has evenly started to leak down against his balls and drip onto his sheets—which were already a mess to begin with.

Then his head flies back and his hair is sticking to his skin due to sweat, “Fuuuck, I’m gonna cum again." He warns, tipping his chin down a moment to meet eyes with you, "You ready for it, doll? Hm? Gonna fuck it into you.”

He earns another dumb nod of your head as you press into him. Whimpering, “Fill me up, Toji. Pleeease?"

The next and final load that he shoots into you comes in uneven bursts, painting your walls in a sluggish fashion before both of your bodies go still against one another. Well, safe for you shuddering as you release right along with him.

You're still hugging his head and he's still got his arms wrapped tightly around you but that only lasts for a few seconds before both of you feel another wave of heat draft over you. Then, for the first time in forever, you're remind of how you ended up in his room to begin with.

Toji lifts his head up to kiss your shoulder, “I uh-, fuck." He snorts into your skin—regretting it directly after since the sweat on both of your skin is beginning to make your bodies feel glued to one another, "I would’ve put on a condom but uhm… s’too hot for that.”

You scoff at him, “Liar, you ran out of condoms three weeks ago.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He mumbles back.

Then he realizes there's no way you'd know that unless you were just as much of a disgusting pervert as he was and had been tracking the number of condoms he had in the same way he'd been tracking how many pairs of panties you'd allowed to go missing over the past month.

Pulling away from your shoulder and blinking, “Wait a damn minute.”

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And it’s something that plagues your mind over and over even by the time your make-up is finally perfected, and your reception robes brushed down for non-existent dust. 

“Beautiful.” your attendants breathe, gracing you with a synchronized bow so low that it almost looked painful. And with a few more appreciative nods, they’re guiding you out of the sweetly-perfumed dressing room, wordlessly leading you into the uproarious traditional meeting hall. 

“You’re not following?” you turn to ask, once you had almost one foot stepped cautiously into the room. 

At this, the woman stood at the very middle of your entourage flushes. A bright, blinding red that matches the way her lips sputter helplessly, “I- I’m honored, madam. But this is er- as far as I can go.”

Strange. 

And with that, the sliding mahogany doors shut. 

Despite what you may think about the council of elders, you had to begrudgingly admit that they’d decorated the chamber lavishly. Fit for a king - or, more likely, fit for the new leaders of the household, after your marriage today.

Dimly-lit with lanterns, and already heady with the smell of expensive sake, your eyes dart around the seated upon seated of clan leaders, elders, and prominent officials you couldn’t even name. All positioned around a long table encircling a strangely raised platform in the middle - as if a stage - it seemed that everyone and anyone was here to assess the new Madam of the Gojo household.

To watch. To wait. 

And at the head of it all - your husband.

Gojo Satoru was known by none to be a soft man, not even by those foolish enough to claim themselves close to him. More accurately fabled as the most vicious young clan leader in history; an angel of death that you’d be lucky to so much as even snatch a glimpse of before you never can once more. 

Yet, the way he beams once his summer blue eyes lock on yours made him seem like anything but. 

“Ah- my wife. My wife is here.” Gojo’s deep baritone sounded so reverent - out-of-breath, like he’d been whispering those very words to himself like a mantra all night. In the middle of it all, you hadn’t even noticed the way the hall had quieted deafeningly - not until his words echo throughout your ears. Rich blue yukata rippling when he’s patting softly at his chair, and you notice with a jolt that there’s no seat next to him. 

Damn elders. 

“Hah? Elder Tanaka really did it!”

“You know I never wanted the riffraff to sit at the table- not a place for-”

“Well what else? A madam should be as a madam is.”

You’re gritting your teeth, making determined strides past all the withering stares and hushed whispers. Stepping closer and closer up to your shifting husband-

“Take-”

And then you sit. 

Plopping yourself down unceremoniously onto the clan leader’s lap - from behind you, you’re hearing Gojo suck in a feverish breath. Panting. You’re washed over with his piney, syrupy sweet scent when his strong forearms immediately wrap around your waist to steady yourself comfortably onto his large, manspread lap. 

And in front of you, you stare defiantly back into every wizened snarl shot your way. If looks could kill, then this would be a massacre. 

It takes him a few gulps to regain his senses - hell, it takes you a few more. And Gojo was so warm, practically burning when he whispers in a rasping voice against your ear, “I was going to tell you to take my seat but…whatever my wife wants, hm?”

“The look on their faces,” you try to hold back what would be deemed an utterly unlady-like smirk. Back pressing up against every hardened curve and ridge down Gojo’s washboard abs through his clothes. “But, I-I’m sorry if-”

His arms around you tighten. “Why would you ever be sorry?”

CLAP! CLAP!

“The reception shall now commence.”

Perhaps it was to stop your quiet muttering, but soon enough your vision is promptly being filled with delicacies that make your mouth water. 

“I would advise you not to drink the sake, pretty.” Gojo waves off an attendant that offers another chair, starting to sift around the steaming contents of his own plate. And despite how you seemed to be the main scrutiny tonight, you let him feed you tiny bites, anyway - all for the haughty council to scoff at. Their master being so happily used by his wife “Seems we’ve been gifted with something special to drink for the initiation tonight.”

Something about his tone was strained. It makes you bat your lashes up at him in a way that has Gojo adjusting his lower robes with a gulp. “Something special? Is it poisoned?”

He chuckles out, “No- even worse-” Lowering. And you jolt when his gleamingly sharp canines sink into your earlobe. Dangerous. “-one sip of that for both of us and I’ll be showing this scum here exactly how you’re mine.”

Oh.

Oh. 

Shit, your spine sits ramrod straight at that purring little undercurrent in his tone - the implications. And just that slight jostle of your hips makes Gojo urgently dig one set of his slender fingers into your waist. It makes him hunch over, it makes him gasp, “O-or we might not even need that sake, heh-”

Eyes drifting to the platform, “I want to, though.”

And for just a second, the entire meeting hall stills. 

Every figure around the table barely even bothering to hide their blatant staring right now, some covering their gaping mouths - because the infamous leader of the Gojo clan was smiling. 

Smiling. A humorless, crazed little smile directed at you. “Then…” Barely drifting an inch even when his own free digits clasp around a tiny sake bowl, he cheers his sake cup with yours. Echoing over the twinkling clink! “-whatever my wife wants.”

And yet, you feel nothing out of the ordinary in the first few minutes - nothing but those billowing stares and Gojo’s warm proximity to you. Huffing out tiny bouts of laughter that tickle the crook of your neck, and your face burns at the stray peck or two he’s leaving down your exposed skin.

Not even in the first hour.

Or the second, and you’re half-wondering whether this initiation was nothing but a hoax. 

But veering into the third-

It happens. 

Something snaps. 

“S-Satoru?” you breathe out unsteadily when he’s suddenly growing quiet. Head craning to take in just how pretty Gojo looked right about now - robes hanging off his sculpted deltoids. A sweet strawberry blush taking over his high cheekbones, his collarbones, down further. “Are you okay?”

Of course, he wasn’t. Right now, Gojo Satoru felt so ruined he thinks he could faint. 

“Shit-” Gojo hisses from above you, snowy brows knitting together. You can’t even react before his muscular thighs bounce ever-so-slightly, shifting you just a degree higher on his lap. Just enough for him to seat you prettily by the edge of something big. Curved. Rock-hard. “Shit- shit shit- m’- m’feeling so-”

Gojo’s chopsticks clatter onto the tatami mats with a soft thud! And those fingers find themselves latching onto you. 

You, you, you - burning down the curves of your waist, sliding up your trembly thighs and just below where your robes were hiking up. He couldn’t get enough. 

“Sa-toru-” your words come out wobbly. Clutching at the slight opening of your yukata to drag in a useless attempt to drink in some cooler air. You felt like you were melting, and so were your words now. “Toru, I feel so-”

“What did you say?”

It takes you a few syrupy moments to even realize that it’s your husband speaking - because Gojo’s voice was several octaves higher than usual. Husky, like he was on the verge of shattering into a million pieces. Spitting a pained, “What did you say, honey?”

You bat your teary lashes - shit, when did you even get so stimulated - up at the thoroughly drunken elders that were sneaking peeks at the two of you.

Just for a split-second - barely enough to catch anything.

But enough for Gojo to curl the thick pads of his fingers around your throat, pulling in a roughened tug to have your back hugged even more flush against him. “Hey hey hey- look at me, pretty. Look at your husband.” Flexing his powerful back muscles in a drool-worthy way, bowing over in two to practically shove you into the cool surface of the table when he puffs up against your ear. “S-say that again?”

You’re pinned on top of the mahogany with his full body weight - and you can barely breath, barely even think before uttering out. “T-Toru?” 

And that makes Gojo Satoru shiver. 

Entire body wracking so violently, his nose buries into the tender column of your neck. Not just breathing you in - basking in you. 

Muffling out, “Again.”

“Toru.”

“Again.”

“Toru–”

It makes the strongest snap his glassy, cerulean eyes almost-comically open in a flash - winking his droopy gaze through molasses once, twice at the platform right in front of him. 

And Gojo’s barely even in control of his limbs when the mountains of his palms glide hurriedly underneath your thighs. In only a split-second, you’re carried in his arms in the easiest princess carry - but Gojo doesn’t stop there. 

No, he doesn’t simply walk out of the room like you’d expected him to - he does the complete opposite. 

Every widened eye in the room can only watch as the clan leader steps swiftly upon the now cleared-out table and onto the raised platform in only two treads. Splaying you out gently onto the firm tatami, you’re gazing up at a heaving Gojo.

Because despite the rich dinner tonight, Gojo was starving. 

The soft yolky glow of the lanterns overhead illuminates that greedy glint in his eyes - the way that his lips glisten with the slightest trail of translucent drool at the very ends of his parted, rosy pink lips. 

He’s never looked more ruined. 

“Please.” 

And it’s all but whimpered out into your mouth - pathetic and raw. 

You’re gasping sharp heavals of air when his candied lips attack yours, and through that delicious thumping between your legs that you could feel in even your ears - you hear the gasps. With a sweet, sweet whine you’re blinking your eyes open enough, “Th-they’re watching.”

“Oh.” But Gojo’s more worried about losing contact with the heaven that was your lips, chasing after to press wet peck after French peck. “S’what? You wan’ me to kill them all?”

The room drops a few chilling degrees in temperature for everyone but the two of you.

He could - he would. If you hadn’t shaken your pretty head frantically, that is, not quite ready for a bloodbath on your wedding night. Yet, you needed him so bad.

“Then- m’only gonna show them who ya belong to- who I belong to.” Calloused, rounded tips of his fingers bearing down your yukata, Gojo’s slipping in one of his cold digits between your robe to snap! snickering at your low keen. “And you’ve made it so oh- easy f’me to.”

He was so greedy. 

Stealing little spying looks down at the way your legs were splayed out, Gojo utters out a guttural, “Open- open up f’me, my wife. Show them how wet your husband’s made ya.”

And shit, you didn’t know whether it was that sake acting out on behalf of your limbs, or whether it was the way that you were so needy right now. But you could feel your thighs jittering open as soon as those humming syllables were out of Gojo’s mouth. 

“S-so embarrassing-” you whine, one hand swiping away your thin layers to show him that glistening wet plump of your pussy. Drenched. Seeping through the useless fabric of your panties to wink up at him- and oh, that makes Gojo groan.

It makes him throw his head back with a hiss - for only a split-second, as if he couldn’t take it. Before drunkenly shifting back to your pretty cunt no matter what. 

“Oh, shit.”

THUD!

The body of the one such rowdy clan heir that’d dared speak up right now hits the ground faster than your eyes hit their target. 

Fuck, you didn’t even see Gojo pull out one of his famed daggers from beneath his sleeves - but the thought of what more might hide underneath made your thighs clench. 

And Gojo notices - of course, he did. Why the fuck wouldn’t he?

“F-fuck. What a naughty pussy gettin’ drenched from just that.” he shrills - before bursting out in a bout of laughter. Laughter, humorless and feral. “Gonna be the death of me- f-fuck- you’re gonna-” For a second, you feel your skin burn in embarrassment, and your legs cross. Only for his eyes to glow a burning blue in disagreement, tutting out a low, “Tell me- hah- tell me what you want.” He’s burning up with every slow kiss down the edge of your mouth, thumbing open your glossy maw further to wrap his lips around your tongue and suck. “Anything- I’ll get ya anything.”

You’re pretty sure that everyone is gaping at the worshiped leader of the Gojo clan on his knees and begging. 

But you didn’t care - not when his solid index was drawing a slow line down the middle of your sopping slit. Bucking your hip up into an arch off the platform that makes Gojo’s achy cock twitch, and the aphrodisiac rush back to him with full force. Mewling, “Wan’ y-you, Toru-”

Eyes twinkling, “Me what, honey? The madam’s gonna hafta use m-more hah- big girl words than that.”

You want him.

You need him now. 

“So mean.” you’re huffing and puffing, yet Gojo only grins at the way he can feel your sloppily wet lips down there kiss him even wetter. Dribbling a soaking sheen down to his wrist, “Want you t-to touch me- p-”

You don’t get to say that magical word “please” because Gojo Satoru would never have you say it. 

He’s plunging out his long digits to hold up to the attractively dim lighting - yet, they’re already dazzling with the slick coating from your pre-soaked cunt. And he’s looking at a few elders right in their downturned bows as Gojo sticks his long, tender tongue out and licks. “W-whatever the madam wants. Dontcha think, elder Tanaka?”

You were the madam, and you’d be treated as such.

And shit, what that old man’s response was - whether he even responded - Gojo doesn’t give a shit. 

Because just one ounce of your sweet, sweet juices on Gojo’s tongue shoots his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Hips bucking up with a low moan, a few slurring swears falling from his lips when he feels his achy cock gush-

“Need you-” he’s gasping wetly, shuffling urgently down the expanse of the platform. Moves frantic - needy. Down, down, down until you feel his hot pants down at your cunt. “Need to- wanna- gimme a lil’ peck, m’kay?”

The syrupy ends of his sentence are slurped up down a long glide of the very edges of Gojo’s tastebuds down your swollen folds. Through your panties.

Barely even shifting them even an inch to the side when he lets your glissading juices down his tongue, drawing a sultry circle. He’s letting his eyes droop half-closed, murmuring a little growl at the very back of his throat. “Just one more-” Gojo’s voice cracks, two sets of nails pressing crescents down into your thighs with just how hard he pulls. Kisses. “-and me more-” And another. “J-jus’ one more- oh-” Another. 

And you’re barely even realizing it before Gojo’s latching his pretty lips with yours, squelching wet noises ringing in your ears and throughout all four corners of the room. 

“Th-tha’s” you manage to scoff, fingers threading into his cloudy locks and pulling. But not even that’s enough to get Gojo to part even a millimeter, in-fact he’s pushing himself even more nose-deep, rolling his tongue down your slit - like he’s trying to push through your panties. “-more than one.”

And fuck - he titters out a pussydrunk giggle down into the edges of your sloppy hole. Teasing tongue dipping just barely to circle around the very edge and then-

“Can you blame me?” Gojo smiles with his rubbed-raw lips. So fucked-out that you hear yourself gasp. Your slick was already drip! drip! dripping down his curved chin, smearing a wet gloss that sits all prettily on his features. “M’gettin’ practice to do this fer the rest of our lives.”

And everyone could see just how addicted the clan leader was. 

Everyone.

Slack-jawed and moving like he was mindlessly drawn to your pretty cunt, you’re being faced with a wet drawl of his lips down your sodden folds. Pressing the pointed tip of his nose against your plump clit he’s breathing you in all filthily. 

“Could get used ta th-this-” he spits. Once. And then literally, salivating down a wet glob right inside your snug cunt that makes you shiver. “-heh, fuck that- s’too heavenly to. I need-”

And then you’re flipped.

So fast - so sudden that you barely even register what’s happening before you’ve got Gojo Satoru smushed onto the tatami platform. Bleary eyes gazing up at you and fixating right onto your pretty face, your hips sat shamelessly on his face. 

“Toru what-”

“T-take those- off f’me, honey- please-” He couldn’t even bear to specify right now. You looked so unfairly pretty on top of him like that, even prettier when your soft, luxury robes are hitting the floor. Well, everything except those panties-

“Toru, those are gonna rip-” you yelp when you feel the stinging clench of his teeth biting down the plush of your thighs. Resting onto the sopping wet fabric of your underwear, it smears down a wet glide at his cheek. “-they’re so expensive.”

RIP!

Gojo spits back the tatters of your flimsy excuse of panties beside him - and then another saturated wad of saliva up into your cunt. “Have ya forgot that you’re the ah- madam now?” He’s snickering, curved fingertips swatting a wet smack! onto your ass, cold wedding band branding. “-jus’ use my black card ta buy the whole fuckin’ store. Dip into the hah- council’s funds fer all I care.”

And for those shocked elders snapping their eyes up - they’re met with the most obscene sight of Gojo’s gleaming tongue spreading your puffy pussy lips wide and proudly open. 

“Shit-” he’s bursting out in whiny keens. Spitting and sloshing the wet waves of every pearlescent slick that beads of you - and there’s so much of it. “Gonna get my face s-so soaked heh-” So much that Gojo was utterly ready to feed with his sliding tongue, swirling past your wet rim of muscle and fucking up into you languidly. “-didn’t even need a fuck- ch-chair, anyway.”

Your cunt sloshes all around his tongue, dragging up and down up and down up and- Thoroughly done teasing out your hole pliant, he’s dragging his lips up to suck around your peaked clit - before pinching it in a light bite. 

“Oh!” you yelp. Searing a grip into his scalp, “S-so mean-”

“Mhm— m’your big, bad mean husband- fuck-” Such syrupy, desperate whines that Gojo really can’t help but babble - over and over. “-that sake…feels like m’burning- m’dying-” He can’t stop, won’t stop, roughly attaching a hand onto the globes of your ass to help you ride. “-n’ m’fuckin’ addicted- so won’t ya toy with this hah- p-pretty pussy a lil’ n’ get even wetter for me? Please?”

God, it’s so subconscious the way that your fingers toy over your clit - tight, pressurized circles just the way you like it. 

“Like this?”

“Ohhh, yeah, wifey- let it all down m’tongue-” And Gojo’s in a hypnotic trance at how much more of your honeyed glosses of precum that soak and travel down his tongue. It works. Even more. More and more. Maddeningly. 

Until he just can’t fucking take it-

“S-stop that f’me. None of that t-touchin’ anymore oh-” he gruffs out, throat dry. “Let me-” Fucking jealous of you that he’s pushing his fucking sanity to gritting through his teeth. Gojo meanly slaps away your hand before taking it over with his own. Absolutely no warning before feeding your drooling pussy with inch after inch of his fingers. 

Two at a time. 

Three. 

Your gooey depths are clinging to him so tight, taking him like a fuckin’ champ when they’re curling at the very knuckles to press deeply. “Oh yeah- makes me w-wonder jus’ how nicely you’ll take my fuckin’ cock, too, hm?”

You’re barely able to even babble out a few incoherent moans before the very tips of his digits brush up against the bulging bullseye of your g-spot. Hard. 

“There-” you gasp. You all but cry. “R-right there, Toru-”

Swat!

“I love you, honey- oh, I love you- but right now…” Gojo’s petering his voice away, too in a heady trance with the sight of that rapidly thumping pulse at your cunt to focus on stringing any sentences together right now. And he’s licking back into your snugly-filled entrance, squeezing past the jostlie of his thickened digits to doubly penetrate you. “...jus’ wanna hear this c-cute cunt speak.”

It’s like Gojo couldn’t decide where he wanted to be next - licking up every wet dredge of your juices smearing down his wrist, hollowing his cheeks out when he sucks on your neglected clit, or drawing out the prettiest moans when he joins back in to fuck your quivering hole ragged. 

Every movement bruising - claiming. 

They’re cold inside your toasty walls. Reaching mushy nooks and crannies inside you that you didn’t even know were possible, rolling his tongue into your tight channel to drape your gummy walls with a sheen of his spit. His six-inch fingers pressing harsh against your sweet spots, you could scream-

“Oh she’s real talkative- s-so cute-” But your swashing cunt was doing all the talking for you, wringing out drippingly wet slurps and squelches that Gojo nods along drunkenly to. Maybe it was the aphrodisiac, maybe it was the way he was squeezed oh-so-tightly between your thighs - a lightheaded way to go that Gojo definitely wouldn’t mind. Because he was agreeing. “Mhm- I agree- hah- oh, I agree with ya, cutie-” Thick, white lashes bat innocently up at you, “-my wife would look s-so pretty when she cums, hm?”

And he’s right.

Drunken. 

Because when you do, the sight is so pretty that Gojo himself thinks that he could cum right there and right now in his boxers - the only thing holding him back being the stabbing need to cum inside you more than anything.

Your thighs are desperately attempting to close around his ravenous head, greedily slurping up every bit of your juices. Every bead, every splatter, every slow gush with your mess of an orgasm.

“D-didn’t even ngh- see it-” you whimper, wave after wave of white-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes and making your spine arch in such a slutty way. “-didn’t even think I’d- oh-”

“S’quite alright-” he’s murmuring wetly. Head lolling all the way back to let you fuck your high on Gojo’s pretty face, convulsing cunt slobbering a translucent pathway all down the middle of his face. “Heheh- could never get mad- c-could never- oh fuck- use me.”

You’re gasping over distantly shocked mutters, “W-what?”

“Use me-” Gojo’s crying out, hips rutting up into the air like an animal. And he’s dangling helplessly onto the curve of your hips, jostling you desperately to fasten your vice-like grip on his hair. To ride him faster. To use him. “M’begging, my wife- fuck- let em’ see- let these fuckers see the way you u-use me.”

Voice breaking pathetically, eyes fighting not to scrunch shut, gasping and gulping for you to grind your dribbling pussy in smooth, sultry gyrations down rougher across his mouth.

And when you do, Gojo thinks he could faint. 

He’s letting out a rasping ah! ah! ah! curdle at the very back of his throat with every jolt of your hips, with every push of your cunt down his mouth that has him gasping for air. Every drawn circle making his fat head swell even girthier. It’s everything he’s ever wanted. 

It’s everything he could ever think about even when your high evolves into mere tingles, when the twitches of your legs slow down, and you find yourself lifting ever-so-slightly off of Gojo’s red, red flushed face. 

He looks so wrecked underneath - happily, so.

Flashing a brilliant smile that was dripping with all the coatings of your sloshing wet slick towards that little audience that you’d even forgotten you had. “Heh, next time my madam wants a hah- s-seat, she’ll have one. One way or the other.”

“T-Toru–” you’re whining, clamoring off to seat yourself down on his painfully hard lap. “-think they got the ngh- point.”

But, oh, the very moment your glossed pussy lips were meeting the thick bump of Gojo’s angry head through his clothes, you feel the syrupy rush of the aphrodisiac boil through your veins once more. You couldn’t even imagine how Gojo felt right now without even cumming once. 

Slotting over to resound a damp schwf! of skin on fabric. Barely giving you a moment to even recollect before you need him. You want to ruin him.

Purring lowly, “Toru…”

And the strongest gulps - Gojo Satoru gulps - a shiver thrumming down his hulking body and onto his gushing cock. It twitches up in a sodden little perk underneath you, and Gojo’s fingers attach themselves to your waist. “Y-yes, ma’am?”

“Really wanna taste you-” your lips drag across his and he keens with a slow suck on your bottom lip. “-wanna see if the r-rest of you is just as sweet?”

“Fuck!” You bounce up precariously when Gojo bucks up wildly, like he’d rip through his wedding robes and fuck you right now if he could. “Such filth from such a s-sweet mouth- ya really are gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.”

And to hear the most notorious clan leader admit shamelessly like this. To hastily untie his yukata and let it fall to the side, hear him break out in a sullen whimper when you kiss your way down his toned body, down, down, down his bulging pecs, his heaving abs, all the way to those soaked tufts of white at his pelvis-

“D-don’t tease-” 

Gojo just gasps at the hit of cool air when you’re shuffling down his stickily wet boxers in a fluid, sudden pull. Head throwing back before meeting your own widened ones - he was so big. 

You don’t think you’d ever get used to the sight, to the way that his swelling hot girth expands up a few sizes fatter at the hot puff of your feverish breath. Thumping veins prominent and blushing strawberry pink in flavor. Reddened and bulbous tip already slick with a gleam of precum, and one swipe with your thumb makes him gush out in a stringy gush of more and more-

“Shit-” 

Gojo’s letting his pathetically drooling lips sag open, eyes widening when your deft digits circle around that creamy white ring down Gojo’s length - down his underwear. 

He didn’t even realize. 

Curling his fingers around his thick base to glide over your lips like he was painting it in a pretty white lipstain. Letting your open lips drool and make a syrupy mess with his excess ribbons of cum. “Fuck- look what you do to me-”

You’re gasping with the realization that Gojo Satoru had cum in his pants from just eating your pretty pussy out - and it makes you grin. 

Pressing a sweet, sweet peck onto one remnant of his thick dredges of his slightly salty seed, it makes him rut at each of your kittenish peck after peck on his weepy head. Circular and hot. “Ya are sweet.”

And then you can’t speak anymore - because Gojo didn’t want you to speak anymore. Doesn’t think he could manage it without his hefty balls clenching dangerously once more - it was his first time, after all. 

“Handle- ah, handle me delicately, m’kay? Never done this b-before-” Biting down on his swollen lower lip when he’s watching your mouth stretch. Bulging out through your cheeks with the solid inches he was feeding you - throbbing length disappearing into your plushy mouth. 

Gojo’s so ridiculously big when the rotund ends of his cock kiss wetly against the very back of your throat. Branding a bittersweet bruise. You were sure that had it not been for just how needy you were with the sake, it would have been physically impossible to milk the entirety of his fucking soul out of him like the way you were right now. 

“O-oh-” he gasps - he pants. Chest caving it at how swelteringly hot you were inside, hugging around his sensitive cock so hard that Gojo sees stars. “Is- is this what it feels like?”

You’ve never seen the great Gojo Satoru’s voice shiver just this way, you’ve never seen him so broken. Bouncing off the elders that see their precious leader this defiled. 

Thighs juddering up and flexing in a way that makes you salivate to lock around your neck. He’s practically headlocking you - whimpering out tiny pleas as if you could answer. “Can’t believe you’ve been holding out- can’t ah- A lil’ deeper- please? Please I know you can-” Shifting his hips up in a slow gyration of back and forths until your tongue was flattening to slide over every vein down his underside. Twirling over particularly sensitive spots at the jagged crevices that make Gojo whine. “-aww, tha’s right. My good girl- my good fuckin’ wife.”

He’s never felt like this before. 

And when you hollow out your cheeks and suck - oh, it has him hunching over rapidly. Shoving your nose up against that neat white happy trail, you’re breathing in his addictively masculine musk.

Moaning out a throaty, “Mmpf-”

“Shhh shh sh-” Gojo massages his finger down your neck, sneaking greedy feels for the outline of his thick cock down your throat. “Jus’ take it- fuck fuck fuck- don’ hafta do anything else, lemme take care of it, pretty.”

He didn’t even know what - he didn’t know how. 

But fuck-

You swirl your tongue over and underneath the sensitive bump of his slit, lathering it in a slow glissade of your salivating tongue that makes him jump. And he feels like he’s already seeing cloud nine and the pearly gates itself by the time you steady yourself into sultry, sucking bobs. 

Dancing a hand up to rub over his tight, cum-filled balls - and maybe it was the aphrodisiac, maybe it was just him - but it felt like he was about to burst already.

He was going to.

A slight hiss - not from you, not from him - manages to emanate its way into his melty mind, and Gojo’s finding it in himself to let his head throw back with a sudden laugh. Glassy eyes barely even focusing on the jaw-dropped figures around the table, “Y-your madam’s hgnh- taking me so well, isn’t she?” Head tilting drunkenly back at you, “Wontcha say she’s doin’ a damn good job-”

Only a few mutters - a few scoffs. 

And Gojo’s finding his digits twirling tightly to latch onto your scalp, hissing through clenched teeth. “Say it.”

A unanimous, humiliating “yes” echoes from all sides of the platform. 

And one from your wrecked husband right in front of you - “Yes- hahah-” he giggles. Brushing over the splattered mix of precum and cum that drips down the side of your thoroughly open mouth when you suck all his fat inches. Popping it into his mouth to taste. “-doin’ so well f’me I think- hngh- think I might-”

Of course, at this, you’re speeding up your greedy bounces. Fucking Gojo so heavenly with his mouth that he thinks he’s memorized every curve and twist of your tongue, every single tastebud-

“Naughty girl-” You’re being gifted with another smack! on your ass, and he’s having to haul you off of his reddened, angry cock with a tightened grip around your throat. With one, two slow pumps right in front of your face. And then up, up, up enough for him to hum into your mouth in an attacking French kiss. “-I like that.”

Gojo’s bulging biceps ripple when he seats you all prettily on his lap - just like earlier on tonight. Except, this time, you were facing him - and feeding your drooling cunt all angry inch by inch of his rock-hard cock.

“O-open up those hngh- pretty legs.” he murmurs in a heaving hot breath into your ear. Eyes blaring down at the way your squirmy legs were adjusting and readjusting around slender hips. “Open ‘em and t-take me-”

The way you do makes him gape, makes him gasp, makes him impatiently wrap two arms around the small of your back to fuck up past that tight little ring of resistence and into your walls depravedly. 

Just hitting the very back of your spongy cervix with the upwards curved tip of his head before gushing out thick, wet splatters of cum. The gripping cling of your cunt too good, the way you were sucking him up still fresh. 

And perhaps because of the aphrodisiac, but he was cumming so much. 

Such voluminous loads of seed that dump out into your gooey insides, it sloshes all around him and makes such squelches that reaches his ears. Drooling through the very edges of your sopping wet slit-

“S-see what happens?” Gojo’s whimpering in a way that a clan leader decidedly was not known for. Being the strongest, too. Driving a thumb along your bulging slit, he’s taking the opportunity to smear your pussy lips even wider to swallow more of him. To plug his cum back in. To show off. “See how ah- see what you do to me? Let everyone see-” 

And Gojo sounded so desperate, gasping out little utterances and praises into your mouth while he’s shoveling his swollen cock upwards into you. Taking the lewd advantages of years of combat to pummel every recoiling wall of yours with punishing, pressurized thrusts. 

“Wh-what do I do to ya, Toru?” you hum curiously, half-delirious. 

“Drive me fuck- insane, tha’s what-” he’s hissing, sparks behind his eyes. Swiping down to where he could feel the drilling nudge of his weepy cock, pressing down- hard. He’s mushing over the sensitive slit of his cock accidentally, “Oh- makes me wanna do this forever-” He’s nosing down the crook of your neck now, hiding away that innocent blush of his. “-to fuck you, make love to you, to breed you.”

You sputter out a sudden clench that has Gojo falling back down onto his elbows. Back hitting the tatami mats, your hands hitting his cushiony pecs. “Y-you wan’ to breed me? Hngh- you w-want an heir, Toru?”

An heir - an heir. 

An heir, an heir, an heir. God, it’s thundering throughout his mind and syrupy slowly turning into just about all he can think about.

“M-me? Want an heir?” He’s shuddering out, massive palms splaying out on the two globes of your ass to stretch your taut pussy further down his cock. “What makes you think- oh- what-” Until your perky lips were kissing his heated pelvis, your pulsing clit scratching deliciously down his tufts of white. And at this very second, peering up at you through hooded eyes, gaze half-curtained with his hair, drunken - all that Gojo can imagine is how pretty you are. And how much prettier you’d be as a mama. “C-can I get you hngh- p-pregnant- please, ma’am?”

Mere seconds of his thrumming shaft stretching you open pass as he looks dazedly to the side, “After all- s’what th-this initiation is for, right?”

And then you feel like you’re being spearheaded all the way to your lungs with all of Gojo’s girth. 

“Toru-” you whine, nails dragging little red lines down his broad neck and all over his shoulders. “-deeper. More please- it feels so-”

“More?” Gojo chuckles, hysterical. “You want m-more?”

He’s barely even answering his own question - let alone allowing you to answer. 

Because Gojo’s taking this as the cue to restrain your two wrists behind your back with one of his own, forcing you to whine and shudder out little sobs when your thighs strain to meet his jackhammering cadence. 

Ass stinging at the bruising slap! of his sharp hip bones, the way his heated cunt was swirling around your sweet spots so right. It felt like you were burning from the inside out-

“Ah ah-” Gojo tuts, snapping you out of your woozy reverie. Free hand coming to knock away one of your trembly palms snaking down to your neglected clit - when did you even start that? “Can’t ask me for m-more n’ do this. Move that hand so I can f-fuck you proper, honey-”

You barely even have the time to whine about it before he’s spitting a streaming waterfall of saliva onto his fingers, pinching at your clit. 

“Heh, don’t think I f-forgot about ya-” You whine at the way he was drawing dizzying circles, the cool burn of his matching wedding band. “Th-they say ya needa have the hngh- mother cum, too, ta make kids.”

Plural. 

“K-kids?” you muse. 

“Mhm-” he’s nodding like he doesn’t even realize. “How about- six-”

Maybe from the shock, maybe from the way that he was filthily spearing against your g-spot so good, you collapse readily onto your elbows. Feeling every slick and slide of Gojo’s abs rubbing up against you.

Each singular thrash into your cervix has Gojo’s babbles running more nonsensical - more pussydrunk. “Thinkin’ wh-whatever ya want- hngh- to fill ya up- Have you all r-round and ha- glowing.” Like it pained for him to even say, like it hurt with every sloppily wet thwack! of his heavy balls on your ass. “Have you be m-my madam- the mother of my kids- hngh- all with your pretty eyes-” he’s sobbing now. Swirling around his rounded tip till it hits sweets spots you didn’t even know you had. “-n’ my hair and hah- your personality- c-can’t imagine fighting over them for ya- wh-what do you think, cutie?” 

But as soon as you’re cracking your mouth open to fervently agree - at least, as much as your hazy mind could at this point, Gojo’s raising his right hand to palm over it. 

With a drunken smirk, “M’askin’ her, my wife- dontcha w-worry-” Nuzzling your cheek, “-haven’t forgotten about the mother of my kids.” 

And the saccharine-sweet sloshing is enough to ring throughout Gojo’s ears like his favorite melody - and he’s memorized every note. Pumping out more and more spurts of hot precum to stain your insides and dribble uproariously. Sleazing a grin your way, “Almost there- almost- but first-”

Every single elder he’s glaring upon jumps when Gojo graces them with one of his looks - even as barely-lucid and fucked-out as he was. He leers, “How about it? Heh, wanted a-an heir so bad n’ now you’re gonna get it. Happy now?”

As expected, no answer. 

But Gojo didn’t need one anyway - not when your ringing slurps as you swallow up his cock thunder across his ears. “O-oh, she’s tellin’ me something-”

“Wh-what is she sayin’, Toru-” you whine, lips wobbling uncontrollably in much the same way that your pussy folds were right now. 

“She’s sayin—” Gojo’s voice takes on a whimpering lilt, and he has absolutely no idea how you haven’t noticed that determined clenching of your gummy walls, the breathless pants of yours. So he only smiles, teeth sinking playfully into your ear lobe, “-that my gorgeous wife’s about to cum.”

Stars flurrying behind your lids, your toes curl and hips slam with enough force to rock the platform rickety. 

But if you didn’t notice your high - then Gojo certainly didn’t notice his, either.

Too caught-up, too busy rutting up in solid strides into your dripping cunt to notice that he was splattering your squeezing walls to be sopping wet with oozes of cum. There are so many gushes of it that Gojo feels dizzy, he feels like he’s about to break. 

“Wait- wait wait m’cumming again-” he gasps. Pinching your clit with two fingers to feel the way that jittery convulsion has Gojo’s potent seed coating his cock a glistening white. Something marshmallow creamy that makes him swallow. “D-didn’t even know I could hngh- c-cum again-”

Didn’t know if he even wanted to but- but of course, he did. 

He’s hissing at the dredges of wispy white that drip from between your slit, the very sight itself tipping Gojo over to sprinkle out a few more velvety ribbons that knock at your womb.

“Heheh- think this t-took?” Those mere words feel so sinful on his tongue, and Gojo’s ears flush a ruby red. But he can’t find himself stopping when he plugs out of your snug cunt, whimpering at the sensitive cling of your cunt as if she didn’t want to part ways. “Whoops-”

You whine at the warmly wet gush of your still-convulsing cunt, “Don’t think it t-took if you’re pulling out-”

SLAM!

You don’t know who’s actually gasping - the elders, Gojo, or you. Still reeling from the way you’re immediately flipped over onto all fours, cheeks smushed against the tatami mat so hard that Gojo wonders whether it’ll leave a mark for tomorrow. 

Assuming the two of you get out of this alive, that is. 

“Let them see-” he’s hissing, cupping your pussy to leave a few wet smacks that smear your abundance of his cum down onto the platform. So much of it. “-let them see how th-their heir is made since they wanna hah- see so badly.”

And god, the sight was supposed to taunt those in the fucking audience - but it has Gojo’s slick-sheening cock twitching up in interest once more. Barely even knowing what he’s doing before spreading open your pussy lips with one swipe of his bawling tip, and then inside-

“You d-didn’t think we were done, ngh, did you, my wife?”

As if you could ever be done with him.

Pound after pound. 

Gojo was so painfully hard right now he felt like he was going to explode - and he wanted- no, needed to be deeper than he ever has inside of you. 

Which is what found him placing an unapologetic foot on top of your head, the slight jostle in angle making him swoon in a probing push against the very ends of your cervix. And every shaky thrust too hard made you feel like he was going to fuck an heir right into your awaiting womb.

“M’sorry-” he gasps, tearily. Wet splatters of the salty substance hitting the side of your shoulder as Gojo bends - and folds and folds you pliantly right along with him. “Don’t mean to- hngh- didn’t- fuck but I need it so badly- s-so deeply- don’t think I’ve bred this cute cunt ‘nough.”

Pushing you down with his utterly full bodyweight, you’re pinned to the platform. For every eye to see the snapping, creamy strings that connect his glossy cock to your overfilled cunt. It sprinkles across your ass and down your legs, and he’s eyeing down at the glossy pool of mess sticking between your two sweat-sheened bodies from before. 

So badly. 

It’s so much - too much.

Placing kiss after gliding kiss of his syrupy precum down the very bottom of your pussy, whining at the slight recoil that has him pushing back from the elastic depths of your cunt. Such a splitting stretch that bullies you wordless. 

And it could’ve been hours - it could’ve been minutes until all that you can manage is a tiny huff that leaves your pouty lips with every wet squelch, and only makes his fat cock bludgeon even harder. He’s fucking you thoroughly, almost as if he hates you. 

Yet, sounding so badly apologetic that you can’t help but crack a smile - at least, as much as you could when your sweet insides were being ravaged by him. “S’all f-for an heir, isn’t it, Toru–?”

God- and then he’s cumming. 

Embarrassingly, almost-painfully - but still so needily.

It’s splattering and overfilling you so much that you feel your elastic walls pull taut at the sheer inflation, making you strangle out a sudden moan. Splat! splat! splattering a thin sheen down your inner thighs, the wet pumps have him fucking it even harsher to coat your spongy womb with his cum, knocking- begging for any sort of entrance.

Messy. So fucking messy that you feel your skin burn.

He can’t help it - oh, he can’t control himself when he’s pulling out for just a split-second to shuffle downwards and press his face right into your sopping folds. Latching his spit-slicked lips around your sensitive nub of a clit. Humming, sucking-

And through it all - you can just barely make out Gojo’s voice. Raw, broken. “D-don’t think it took…don’t think my h-heir took.”

“...”

It slowly evolves into Gojo’s own personal little manga - the very same that he gasps out over and over into your open mouth on the third round. Just a few more tears, a few more of his sloppy strokes in a prone bone that his aching body can barely even hold up.

Now well past the aphrodisiacs, and the allotted time for your initiation. But your audience was still seated, and the fatigue setting into both of you as you both cum with strangled cries - and Gojo’s stream of sweltering hot seed now noticeably wispier than usual. 

But still - still it wasn’t enough.

And by the fourth round, you’re wondering how the hell it was that neither of you had broken any bones, yet. Especially considering the sloppy full nelson that your greedy husband had somehow managed to wrangle you into.

Slipping and sliding across one another in a way that had Gojo crying out in frustration, drool dripping down the side of his lips  - all he really wanted to do was stuff his angry cock into you again. 

The fifth and sixth rounds start before the previous one had even ended, you think. And you’re riding on a constant wave of high while Gojo’s weepy cock sobs out a few more spurts of seed all throughout. 

Teeth clacking against your own in a mess of a kiss, voice dragging in tiny breaks at the very end of his throat. Gojo doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the rounded divot at the end of his overstimulated cock shivers out nothing. 

And Gojo knows he should be cumming - he feels like he should be cumming. 

But all his poor, half-softening cock can do is let out a gush of nothingness. Big, fat tears glistening down Gojo’s cheeks when he cums dry in the meanest mating press possible for both your tired bodies. Yet, still fucking you like he was with his cum again and again-

“You all-” Everyone jumps at the sudden, hoarse voice coming from the leader, having resigned himself to mere whimpers of your name and “heirs” by now. And the elders can’t even hold his droopy, barely-there gaze. Dangerous. “Bow. Bow to your new madam.”

A/N. Hope you all have a lovelyyy day.

satoru froze mid-thrust, and you felt his cock twitch hard inside you. it made you whimper a little.

“eh?” he asked, cheeks flushed red.

your walls tightened around him on purpose, watched his lashes flutter. “the pillow thing. with who, ‘toru? who did you do this with first? did you lie to me?-“

his face went scarlet from his neck to the tips of his ears even more. poor boy who swore you were his first hook up now was deemed a traitor.

“i—i didn’t—” he tried to hide against your shoulder but you grabbed his jaw, forced him to look at you.

“tell me.” you mumbled, pouting a little, moving your hips slightly.

he swallowed hard, cock pulsing so violently you felt it in your stomach, as he slowly began to rock his hips again, not fully on the rhythm of before.

“i… watched. a-a lot.” he stammered. then, he dropped his head on your shoulder as he began to lose his composture. “like. hours. a-and read- forums— damnit, re-reddit threads! reddit! descriptive ones! y-yeah, i-“

you giggled, arms around him again.

“you studied how to fuck me?”

he sounded like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

“i didn’t want to be bad,” he mumbled. “n-not for you. i- i just— made notes… oh, fuck” he cursed softly when you pressed him tighter against you.

“you're so cute" you smiled against his lips, rolling your hips up to meet his next thrust. “i bet you got hard even thinking about this"

“i- y-yeah, i did" he nodded, blue eyes glassy with pleasure, "a-and ‘m not sorry,” he panted, starting to move again faster , like your teasing had flipped a switch. “i jus' wanted to be good for you- oh my god”

"are you close, 'toru?" you whispered, nails softly raking down his back as he kept thrusting into you. "yeah-" he nodded eagerly, breathing hard, "you're- just, ah, squeezin' me so good, shit, m'sorry, m'sorry-"

He loses rhythm for a second, hips jerking erratically before he finds it again—faster, deeper, pillow keeping you perfectly elevated so he can bully that spot over and over, making you moan alongside the creaks of the bed and the bedframe against the wall.

"sa-satoru!" you cried his name, back bowing, nails leaving red lines down his back as you clenched so tight he choked on a curse, feeling the first spasms of your orgasm.

“fuck—fuck, that’s it, that’s it—” he fucked you through it, pace turning sloppy, desperate. “i'm gonna come, baby, p-please-"

“yes—yes, inside, 'toru, please—”

his rhythm fractured; hips stuttering, thighs shaking, glasses sliding further down his sweaty nose. he looked and was wrecked. his hips kept jerking forward in tiny, helpless little thrusts like he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, filling you up while he gasped your name over and over like a prayer.

“shit—shit, ‘m sorry—‘m still—still coming—”

you threaded your fingers through his white hair, tugging gently until he lifted his face. his glasses were completely fogged now. you kissed him slow and sweet, tasting salt and desperation on his tongue.

he whimpered into your mouth when you deliberately fluttered your walls around his oversensitive length.

“f-fuck—wait—wait, baby, ‘s too much—” he whined, but didn’t pull out. if anything, he sank a little deeper, like he couldn’t bear to leave.

you smiled against his lips. “you studied… just for me?”

you get the first aid kit without being asked. pull up a chair in front of him and start with his face, cleaning the cut above his brow with steady hands while he watches you. he doesn’t flinch. just sits there and lets you work, jaw tight, eyes tracking your expression.

“stop looking at me like that,” he says.

“like what.”

“like you’re mad.”

“i’m not mad.” you press the butterfly strip down carefully. “i’m not mad at you.”

he doesn’t say anything to that.

you move down. his lip, split at the corner. his jaw, bruised deep and purple. you touch each thing gently and he takes it quietly, which is its own kind of alarming.

you get to his chest next, working the catches of his suit until it falls open. he shrugs it off his shoulders without being asked, leaving him in just his boxers, and you keep your face neutral. you do. but your hands still for just a second at the mess of him. bruises blooming across his ribs, a cut low on his side that’s dried but angry looking, the old scars underneath all of it.

you clean the cut without a word. he watches you frown at it.

his hand comes up and cups your face.

“hey,” he says quietly.

you look up.

“m’okay,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheek. “i’m right here.”

when you’re done you cap the antiseptic and sit back. he catches your wrist before you can move away.

he tugs you forward into his lap without asking, arms winding around your waist, and tucks his face into your chest. just. stays there. breathing you in.

you let your fingers move into his hair.

he’s heavy against you. the tension in him slowly, slowly starting to unwind. you can feel it in the way his shoulders drop by degrees, the grip around your waist loosening just slightly.

you card through his hair and say nothing.

after a while he turns his face up.

he kisses you soft at first. careful, like he’s relearning you, mouth moving gentle against yours. but then his hands tighten at your waist and he kisses you again, needier this time, a quiet urgency underneath it like he just needs to feel you. feel that you’re real. that you’re his.

you kiss him back.

his arms pull you closer.

“m’sorry,” he says. kisses you again. “i know i worry you so much.”

his hands slide down to your hips. he shifts you slightly on his lap, repositioning you until you’re sitting across his thigh, the thin fabric of your sleep shorts the only thing between you and his bare skin. you feel the muscle flex deliberately underneath you.

“jason—”

“please,” he murmurs against your mouth. “let me.”

quiet and earnest in a way he rarely lets himself be.

“you’re hurt,” you say.

“i know.” his hands squeeze your hips. “please, baby.”

you look at him. the cut above his brow, the bruised jaw, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that’s going to settle him tonight.

“you don’t have to do that,” you say softly. “i’m not mad at you.”

“i know.” his forehead drops to yours. “please.”

so you give in.

you start to move and his thigh flexes under you, firm and deliberate, pressing up right where you need it through the thin cotton of your shorts. your breath catches.

his hands guide your hips into a slow rhythm, jaw tight, watching your face with dark eyes. every time you roll forward his thigh meets you and the friction pulls a soft sound out of you that he swallows with his mouth.

“that’s it,” he murmurs. “just like that.”

his ribs expand with a sharp breath when you shift your weight and he winces, barely, but you catch it.

“jason—”

“don’t stop,” he grits out. “please don’t stop.”

you don’t stop.

his hands keep guiding you, unhurried, and he just watches. eyes dark and focused entirely on your face, the way your mouth falls open, the way your fingers curl into his bare shoulders careful of the bruises. this is one of his favourite things, you know. watching you come undone. he’s told you before, low and honest in the dark, that he could do this for hours. just watch you. just this.

his expression right now confirms it. something reverent underneath all that heat.

you reach down between you and palm him through his boxers and he exhales sharp, hips stuttering up.

“hey—” his voice comes out rough.

“let me,” you say, echoing him back at himself.

his jaw works. he nods.

you slip your hand past the waistband and wrap around him properly and the sound he makes is low and punched out, head dropping forward onto your shoulder.

“fuck,” he exhales against your skin.

you keep moving on his thigh. keep stroking him. the dual rhythm finding itself naturally, your hips rolling forward while your hand works, and jason is coming apart underneath you in the quietest, most desperate way. no performance. just him, stripped back, hands gripping your hips like an anchor.

“feel good?” you murmur.

“yeah,” he says, barely voice at all. “yeah, so good.”

his thigh flexes deliberately under you and you gasp and his mouth finds your jaw, your throat, pressing open kisses wherever he can reach, sloppy and uncoordinated and so unlike his usual careful self.

“close,” you breathe.

“i know.” his hand slides from your hip, down, pressing over yours where you’re working him. not taking over. just feeling. “me too. come on.”

his thigh flexes one more time, firm and precise, and you tip over with a soft broken sound, forehead dropping to his shoulder. you feel him follow seconds later, shuddering, a low groan muffled into your hair, hands gripping you through it like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

the room goes quiet.

he holds you there for a long time after. face buried in your neck, breathing slowing degree by degree.

“thank you,” he says sincerely.

“You always got some smart shit to say, your mouth is always moving. I don't think you know how to stop,” he laughed mockingly, waving you off like you were a fly buzzing in his face.

You sucked in air deeply, hoping the influx of oxygen to your brain would bring back the peace before he showed up.

“I don't think your dumbass can even get what I'm saying, did the balls to your face smooth out your brain too?” The people around you were starting to notice the heated tone shared between the two of you. Your friends were trying to calm you down by offering to step out and get some fresh air before anything else is said.

It's not like this was something new; every interaction you have had with Satoru turns into a verbal disagreement.

Your face was starting to get hot, and if you got any more heated than you already were, your entire day would be ruined, other than the embarrassment of arguing with Satoru in a Chick-fil-A, but also him destroying the rest of your day. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction, both for your own sake and for the sake of your pride.

“Yeah, let's go, my food tastes like shit now anyway.” You snatched your tray, stood up, and made sure to shoulder-check him harder than to be ever considered an accident. “Bitch,” you grimaced, realizing all the eyes on you.

That white-haired freak for sure said something, but you were out of the building before you could hear it. You've heard enough from your friends assuring you that 'he wasn't worth your time'; you knew that well enough.

Satoru was a dickhead, and you weren't going to let him play in your face. Nothing wrong with a girl defending herself, you argued.

To be fair, he wasn't that much of an issue in your everyday life. Seeing him outside of games or parties. Unfortunately, your circles overlapped enough for it to be an inconvenience. And you cared too much about school pride to avoid his arena entirely.

And he was there, always there. Front and center, soaking up attention he didn't deserve.

Nevertheless, during basketball season, you would have to get in those bleachers and watch as the team poured an exorbitant amount of money into the University's pockets. At games, you prayed he would get leveled by a player twice his size on the other team. Silently cheering when his coach would cuss him out about a relatively minor mistake.

Truly music to your ears, though you couldn't hear what he was saying to him. Those were only your small moments of joy that would be quickly ruined when the stadium would roar his name after a three-pointer.

You’d hate to admit it out loud, but Satoru was a good player. Annoyingly good. If it weren't for his shitty personality, you would rock the number 8 jersey with Gojo on it, too, like half of the student population. Unfortunately for you, you knew the real Satoru.

Behind the flashy smile and school records, he was the biggest asshole you had the misfortune of ever meeting. You don't even remember how it started. It might have been some snarky remark. Just wrong place, wrong time. Nevertheless, what you do know is that you couldn't wait till you graduate and never see him again.  You prayed that no professional teams would pick him; however, with his stats, that was not happening.

A girl can dream.

Just when you thought your day couldn't get any worse, a party you didn't really want to go to with way too many athletes and frat boys to be a party free of drama. When you walked in, you avoided any of the large clusters of people, hoping not to get pulled into whatever they had going on.

One very large group seemed to be blocking the entire walkway. Your excuse me's were in vain as you tried to work your way around them. Either being swallowed by the music or completely ignored, none of them moved; the group somehow grew larger.

A cluster of tall bodies pressed so tightly together you couldn't see past them. Your final straw was when one of them pushed into you, stomping their giant foot on your shoe. You yelped in pain, pushing the man forward harshly, alerting him of your presence.

The man jerked forward from your shove, realizing that he had stepped on someone, he turned around, starting to apologize. "Sorry about-" lo and behold, it was Satoru Gojo.

You should have recognized the height; however, you were more worried about getting past this wall of people and not about ridiculously tall partygoers. He looked you up and down, dragging his eyes lazily over your figure.

"You alright?" his tone was almost sarcastic. Teetering on the edge of faux sincerity and cockiness that sent you over the edge.

"Move, you're blocking the doorway." You scowled, forcing yourself not to punch him in the nose. This is your second time seeing him this week, which is already too much. He scoffed, stepping aside, and muttering something that made his equally lame ass entourage snicker.

Oh, to have the audacity of a man.

"Excuse me?" You whipped around, grabbing the attention of those who were laughing seconds ago and their little jester. One of them made a face as though they were caught, turning around to avoid your gaze.

"Always mad, for what?" he spoke casually, tilting his head just slightly, like he was studying a wild animal through glass. It's always a man wanting to show out in front of his little friends— groupies in this instance. You don't even know how they like the prick so much. They acted like being in his orbit would get them VIP seats at the WAG table.

“The fuck you say to me?” It was rhetorical; you heard what he said loud and clear. You just wanted to see if he had the balls to say it again. He laughed, a genuine laugh. Coming right from his throat, right in your face.

“Grown ass man acting like a fucking kid. Grow up,” you spat, walking in your previously intended direction before you ended up being held up in a police station. Twice today, you have ignored the incessant urge to become violent with Satoru. You were quite proud of yourself.

You saw your friends leaning over the counter of the bar, your group peeking over with bright smiles on their faces, like they had found a full chest of buried treasure.

Well, you wanted to smile too, rushing over, you looked over as well. Standing on the tips of your toes to get over. Behold, it was the holy trinity, the BBC combo. Weird ass name, but damn did it work. Buzzball, Beatbox, and Cutwater. Six sets of them lay out on the counter.

“Pretty ain't it?” Yuki smiled smugly, like she was some alchemist; she poured some of each into a red solo cup. She swished it together to mix and chugged it in one go. Yuki was at every function as though she was paid to attend; how she was passing any of her classes was a mystery to you.

Getting to work, Yuki made 8 cups of the concoction and offered it up on the counter. “Bon appetite!” Taking a cup yourself, you chugged it down. The combo would at least get you in a better mood than previously and, at worst, make you do things you wouldn't do sober.

“Someone's excited,” one of your friends commented, noticing how quickly the cup was emptied. You blew her a simple kiss, offering your cup up for more.

A solid 10 minutes and 3 cups later, you were definitely feeling something; your friends were talking like crazy about absolutely nothing. By the 15-minute mark, your buzz dulled into frustration instead of warmth; any other time, it would get you that warm, fuzzy feeling that blanked out all the negatives.

“Where are you going?” Utahime asked, her words slurring as she tapped on your shoulder. Seeing how red her face was getting, this was not her first few drinks by a long shot.

“I'll be back, I'm going to the bathroom,” you reassured her, sliding off the stool and making your way to the bathroom. The lights were far too dim to check your makeup, and you also had to pee. On your way up the stairs, you ignored most faces that passed— no one familiar. No one that mattered.

Your legs dragged up the steps, feet getting heavier with each movement, and you groaned, holding onto the mahogany railing. Thankfully enough, the bathroom was right up the step, with three short knocks making sure that no one was inside, you opened the door and closed it shut behind you.

The bathroom was much, much cleaner than any party house you've ever seen. No sanitary products on the floor or even remnants of past functions.

You took your time fixing your makeup, blotting away that faint shine with powder. Reapplying your lip combo with practiced ease. It had been a while since you had the BBC combo; you'd learned your lesson not to do so after a particular incident. Your stomach rolled just thinking about it, uninvited flashes of Satoru’s sweaty face pressed against your stomach.

Absolutely tragic.

Washing your hands longer than necessary to distract yourself. You noticed the soap smelled especially good; it was in a dispenser, so you couldn't even see the brand. It smelled similar to peaches and mango. Hands down, the best party house bathroom you've ever been in. The last one didn't even have a real sink.

Shaking off your hands of water you had made your way outside, looking off to the side, blocking your way was none other than Satoru himself. He should really save that skill for the court.

Leaned up against the wall with no care in the world other than the girl in front of him. Expression half-focused and half-entertained, it was clear exactly where the night was going to go. Poor girl, didn’t even know what she was getting herself into. You should've minded your business. Should've walked down the stairs and left her to heartbreak or disappointment waiting.

But your mouth moved faster than your brain.

“Better off not wasting your time,” you said smoothly. “Asshole can't even get his dick up.”

The girl snapped her head toward you, eyes wide and offended on instinct. That comment seemed to straighten Satoru up, embarrassment flickering across his face before he could mask it. “Yo! The fuck is your issue?” Satoru groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose like you were the problem.

“Next time, move out of the way,” you shrugged. Your night wasn't ruined, but you sure as hell wouldn't give up the opportunity to ruin his. The look of embarrassment on Satoru’s face was pure gold.

“Just disrespectful as fuck.” he snickered, shaking his head in disbelief. The girl was obviously getting uncomfortable and looking for ways to get from between you two.

“What comes around goes around,” you laughed a little too loudly, but you wanted your point to come across clearly. “Which one is she? The eighth girl you've tried talking to tonight?” you lied, counting dramatically on your fingers.

“I got to go, ‘kay? I'll talk to you later,” the girl mumbled before practically sprinting down the steps. There was no way she was texting him back. A slow, smug smile pulled across your lips.

Mission accomplished.

“Get off my dick,” Satoru spat, stepping closer. “I don't need a random bitch watching my every move like a fucking weirdo.”

His height suddenly felt like a wall when he leaned down slightly.

“I'm not one of your weird ass fans, and no one wants that weak ass dick,” you snapped, “call me a bitch again and watch what happens.” You threatened.

“You didn't seem to mind my limp dick when we were fucking.” he said, voice low, each word enunciated with infuriating clarity. You winced slightly at his words, your stomach twisted at the faint, blurred memory.

“I'll never do that lame ass shit again, worst shit in my life. Couldn't even call that fucking.” To be honest, you barely remember what happened, especially if it was good or not. The problem with that BBC combo it can hit or it won't.

Funny how the last time you drank that concoction, it led you to one of the worst moments of your life. Brief flashes of the night and the aftermath of you waking up with Satoru snoring in your bed, and your body disgustingly sticky. It didn't help that Satoru was in his birthday suit, didn't even bother putting on boxers, nasty freak. Believing this was some messed-up nightmare, you forced yourself to lie back down.

Unfortunately, after an hour of lying in bed, you realized that it was indeed not a dream; you had fucked Satoru Gojo. As much as you wanted shit on him for his "game", you barely remembered anything. Too embarrassed to confront the elephant in the room, or bed. You decided to pretend to sleep, hoping Satoru would share the sentiment and leave quietly and quickly.

It was agonizing waiting for him to get out, not only did you have to wallow in your own shame, but also listen to the same man you promised to never sleep with, butt ass naked in your bed! It was an experience you never wanted to repeat.

His snoring slowed down and eventually stopped signaling his wake, finally. He rose from the bed, yawning, but it was quickly interrupted once he noticed this was not a familiar room and definitely not his bed. You froze instantly as he leaned over you, checking to see who he was lying next to. "Oh my god…" he gasped.

He gently pushed a piece of hair from your face to confirm. He cupped his hands to his face, inhaling sharply. He sat there for a moment before gathering his things scattered on the floor and getting out of your apartment.

Thankfully, he spared you and, particularly, himself by leaving. A few weeks after the incident, both of you acted as though the other did not exist, a brief moment in time where being in the same room did not result in an argument.

That was ended when you had accidentally grabbed his frappe order that was almost identical to yours.

Until now, the affair was never mentioned. It brought back all the shame and embarrassment, yet knowing that you could make even a dent in Satoru's enormous ego, it was almost worth it.

"You wish," he scoffed, shaking his head, "So loud, had your neighbors looking at me crazy. Keep lying to yourself." He shrugged nonchalantly. Nonchalant was everything Satoru was not. The man could barely contain himself when he got something from a vending machine.

"I'm not lying to anyone; I don't know how many girls are lying to you. You suck. Ever heard of 'faking it'?" You used hand quotes emphasizing your point. Patting him on his shoulder, "I felt bad." That seemed to hit him as he pushed your hand off his shoulder, irritated.

"I suck?" he pointed to himself, exasperated.

"Do I need to repeat it? You suck." before you realized you were being pulled into an empty room right across from the stairs. The party’s chaos faded into a dull roar as the door clicked shut behind you, the noise replaced by the hush of anticipation.

Your heart hammered as you realized how close you were standing, breaths mingling in the close air. You snatched your hand away, instantly watching as he closed the door behind him. "The fuck is your deal?!"

"I suck, right? Show me?" You looked around, confused. He can't be serious…or could he? You would like to say that the alcohol was clouding your brain, but that wasn't the case; you were clear-headed. Either prove that Satoru sucks or protect the remaining dignity you have by leaving.

Then you remember all the times he's berated and humiliated you, and you couldn't blame it on the alcohol this time.

Sitting on the leather couch in the room, this was an impossible opportunity to absolutely destroy Satoru's pride and hopefully get him to shut up, forever. You were so close to diamonds, all you had to do was take the final dig.

He looked at you, a little shocked, ruffling his white hair, realizing the situation he was actually in. "What? You scared?" You taunted, preparing to get off the couch, calling his bluff. He pressed your thighs down, preventing you from getting up. He lowered down to his knees, the position surprising you; however, you kept a poker face.

His hands slid up your waist, yanking your miniskirt up, revealing your panties and bare thighs. The coldness of his fingers made you jump as he spread your legs apart, hooking his hands around your butt, yanking you down towards his face. You let out a small 'oh,' as he lifted your legs to his shoulders for a better angle.

Satoru's hands massaged your thighs affectionately, kissing the inner up to your panties, licking a strip up the gusset. His tongue was hot compared to his fingers; the contrast was distracting.

You gasped loudly as he started to suck on the fabric, holding onto your thighs roughly. You bit your lip in resistance as he continued, swirling his tongue around the outline of your clit. "Freak," you mumbled, leaning your head back in faux boredom.

Your comment seemed to tick him off as he pushed your panties to the side, neglecting the previous affection for harshness. Spitting on your pussy, attentively watching the saliva dribble down onto the leather cushion.

Diving right in, he put a hand on your lower stomach, pressing his tongue flat over your pussy. Using the muscle to vigorously tongue your clit, you bit your lip, trying to stifle the moans coming from your throat.

You pushed his head closer, burying him between your thighs. You were so absorbed in chasing your own release that you almost forgot that it was Satoru eating you out. He pressed further down on your stomach, feeling the way your breathing was speeding up. With a drawn-out groan, you were seeing stars, clutching his white hair as you came.

Just as you were coming down from your high, he just had to remind you he was there. He looked up toward the wall at a clock, "That's three minutes and 32 seconds." he grinned proudly, " I still suck, huh?" He laughed, giving your pussy a light slap as he pulled your soaked panties back in place, snapping the band against your sensitive skin.

"J-just shut up." Still catching your breath, your mind was too clouded to come up with an ample comeback. He shrugged, licking his lips and wiping your remaining juices and his saliva from his mouth and chin.

"Yeah, whatever."

Just as you were about to get up, you realized the wet puddle under you and how your ass was soaked. "Give me your shirt." You almost felt bad for the poor sofa, soiled by your fluids.

"Why?" He looked at you, crazy, as though you were asking him to go out with you. You groaned, turning around and pointing towards your ass and the very wet couch.

"This is your fault," you accused, offering your hand out for his shirt. Obediently, he pulled it off, revealing his unsurprisingly well-built body, a waste of physique. Taking the shirt you used it to wipe the fluids from your butt and dab the small puddle on the couch.

As you pulled your skirt back in place, you hadn't realized Satoru was staring, obviously giving you an up-down. Disgusted, you threw his soiled shirt at him, the wet garment landing right on his face. "You're so weird."

"That makes two of us," holding the shirt up, he examined the damage before chucking the polo in the garbage next to the door.

"We have nothing in common." You scoffed quickly, denying his allegation. You didn't think he could navigate anything that wasn't a basketball court. He mumbled something under his breath.

You would have said something, but you would prefer not to see what other tricks he has up his sleeve, or lack thereof.

You walked past him, opening the door to leave the crime scene before anyone caught you together. You'd rather not be seen with him anymore today, or ever. He followed closely behind, closing the door behind both of you. Making your way to the stairs, Satoru was interrupted by one of his buddies, who stopped him in the hall.

"What's up, man? Where the hell is your shirt, bro?" You paused by the steps, waiting for the prick's response. You'd kill him right here and now if he dared to say anything about what transpired in that room.

"Had to throw it away, someone soaked it." Whipping your head around, you glared at him; his eyes made contact with yours, amused.

"…Beer?"

"Yeah, you could say that," he smirked, watching as you rushed down the stairs, preferring not to be in his vicinity any longer. Navigating the crowd was a struggle on its own; unlike Satoru’s entourage, they did hear your “excuse me,” and moved out of the way.

Down the stairs, your friends were in the same spot. Utahime was over the counter, begging for another shot. She couldn't even handle her alcohol well, a total lightweight. Her eyes lit up when she noticed your presence, calling out your name.

"You were gone furr soo long," her words slurred, touching the sides of your face with both hands, squashing your cheeks together. "Was there a line?" you nodded, lying about a long line outside the bathroom.

"No surprising the one upstairs is so nice, I used it earlier," Yuki added, tucking the rest of the alcohol under the counter away from Utahime. Thankfully, the conversation shifted to unrelated things and stuff that you missed.

After a while of people watching and useless drama, it was time to go. The party was lame as hell, and the music sucked big time. Whoever was on aux needed to delete this playlist and burn it. Your friends echoed these sentiments as you ordered an Uber for yourself. "We are going to that bar down the street, they have this drink that has the fog coming out, hella cool. You coming?"

You paused, you really didn't want to go out again, and honestly, you felt disgusting. Your panties were still wet, and although Satoru's shirt helped, your thighs were still damp.

"Nah, I'll skip out this time." They pleaded for a bit for you to go with them, realizing you wouldn't be joining them and that all of your Uber rides were almost outside. They relented and let you leave, peppering your face with kisses as you entered the Uber.

—

As you expected, Satoru was lips sealed about what occurred. The little interactions dwindled to almost none. Now you only saw his retched face on court. Watching the way he dribbled the ball, his feet quickly maneuvering across the court.

Your team was honestly getting whooped this past quarter. They had a strong start, but after a few bad calls and players getting pulled out and in, it wasn't looking good.

In hopes of bringing the score up, the coach brought Satoru back in. He was breaking through their defense, getting the ball a few minutes after getting on the court.

Just as he raised his arms to make a shot, a player checked him in the shoulder. A collective “Ooh” filled the bleachers watching as their star boy was knocked to the ground. You snorted. Honestly, you should start betting money on these games. Your prayers may work.

The way these people bet their left arm on these games, especially championships, it might be lucrative.

The referee intervened, and both teams argued their case, but it was obvious that the other player did it on purpose. Seeing how Satoru’s face scrunched up and stormed off away from the referee back to his coach, it wasn't considered a foul. The game was called back on with the players on the court, Satoru included.

The fall didn't seem that bad, but his right shoulder was significantly red. A bruise was sure to form.

The Gojo fan club was not happy with the decision, people arguing with eachother about whether or not it was a foul. The player who did it was benched and switched out with someone else, but he didn't seem a bit mad about it.

The clock ran as both teams attempted to get to eachother baskets, with unnecessary shoving and ball hogs. Satoru was fumbling the ball like he had a severe case of butter fingers.

With 20 seconds down on the clock, a point guard on the opposing team passed the ball around like a hot potato. Landing in their players' hands only got a split second before going back to the point guard, who landed a basket.

Once the timer ran, people left the court to eat overpriced pretzels and hot dogs. $7.50 for a hot dog is outrageous! Following Utahime, a fellow Gojo hater, to a relatively short line at concessions, the game was too suspenseful to leave early for concessions, so the outside was packed.

“We should definitely come to more of these.” Utahime beamed, scrolling on her phone for replays. Laughing at Satoru fumbling the ball on the court, letting it roll in the opposing team's hands. “You know what's crazy, they aren't even ranked.

And the score is 27-20, first game of the season, we might lose,” she snickered. A D1 team losing to an unranked school is embarrassing for your school, but you were cheering for the other team to begin with. It's not like your team never loses; it's rare, but it happens.

“We? Who's we?” you laughed, “I don't recall us being on the court?!” you joked, realising you were next in line. Both of you ordered a box of popcorn and a drink; unfortunately, the pretzels were still being heated.

Taking your orders, both of you headed back to your seats. You got there early, so the seats weren't half bad. Getting to see that number 8 jersey eat dirt in 4k was worth it.

People started filling back into their seats, food in hand, and their anger from the previous quarter satiated. Both teams came in, huddling up with their coach. Probably giving them a pep talk about the last quarter. They would need to bring the score up by 7 in order to tie, at least.

The buzzer went off, and the players assembled on the court. Some new players on the court, including Suguru Geto, you were familiar with him since you had an English class with him your Sophomore year. A cool guy, but anytime he was around, Satoru would soon follow. Once there was a group project, and Satoru just had to bring Suguru his wallet and phone.

You were shocked to see someone like Suguru, friends with Satoru, of all people. Unfortunately, the more you got to know both of them, the more you realized they were the same person in different fonts. Suguru just happened to be more likable.

You made sure to keep your interactions strictly school-related.

“I was wondering when they would put him on the court, him and Gojo are insane on the court, bro,” someone mused behind you, probably drunk based on their voice level.

If you could hear them from your seat, you were sure whoever they were talking to could hear them as well. They weren't wrong; they were great on the court, probably holding out in case they ended up in the shitty position they are in now.

The ball moved throughout the court, the opposing team using the same technique right before the last quarter ended. It was so obvious the easy way they passed the ball, attempting the corner and shot.

As their center passed the ball, to the point guard Suguru swept in and intercepted it and passed the ball straight to Satoru half-court. Satoru weaves through his block and makes a half-court shot to the hoop. The ball flew in the air, rolling around the rim. The arena was full of anticipation of whether it would go in. A loud bounce to the ground through the hoop, sending a roar throughout the arena.

You jumped in your seat a little, transfixed on the game. You didn't think it would be such an exciting one, considering who they were going against, but Utahime wanted to hang out, and you had discounted tickets.

Seeing how the second quarter went, you were expecting Jujutsu to get their asses handed to them. But dunk after dunk, you were quickly proved wrong.

The game went by pretty fast. It seemed your team pulled back up and started acting like a Division 1 team. The ending score was a blowout of 40-27; you kind of felt bad for the other team. You knew Kyoto was unranked. They weren't doing the first 2 quarters terribly, but they just didn't adapt to the play.

“Damn, they got whooped, should've put me on coach!” Utahime laughed, gathering her things from the seat. You wiggled your legs, waking them back up after sitting for so long.

Thankfully, they had cushions on the seats, so it wasn't as bad as it could've been. Looking down at the court, you made eye contact with Satoru, your eyes locking in on cerulean ones. You stared back, confused. What was he looking up here for? He lifted his arm and flexed his bicep.

Your face immediately scrunched up in disgust. Something is honestly wrong with him. His shoulder was wrapped in a bandage; you hadn't even realized it during the game.

“Oh my god, what the hell is he flexing at?” Utahime gagged, hurrying you out so she could escape from the show off. “He needs to put that shoulder down before he gets put on the bench for the season,” she warned, rubbing her temple, an attempt to erase the image from her memory.

“It just started?”

“I know, he only got one more year left, if he wants to go pro, he'd better watch it.” The pros were already looking at Satoru if the news wasn't enough, and all the scouts filling the seats were waiting to snatch him up at the draft.

“That's if he is going to go pro anyway, knowing him, his ass is gonna be someone's sugar baby,” she laughed, tossing her half-empty popcorn in the trash. It wasn't even fresh and was stale and cold. $8 for some cold popcorn should be illegal.

“He's not going to go pro?” you asked, a little shocked. Utahime used to be friends with him and Suguru and went to school with them since middle school. A horror story of itself. You've known them for three years and already hate them; you couldn't even imagine nine years.

“No, I don't think so, at least,” she shook her head, “His family wants him to graduate and take their company, or something, I don't know.”

"That's- that's his choice, I guess.” You rolled your eyes. Family pressure and all, but with his talent, you never expected it. You can't expect anything with him, but the point still stands.

Utahime agreed, you're sure she's thinking the same as you, but there are too many fans of his for y'all to set up your Gojo hate club stand.

Heading out of the area, both of you took the shuttle back to the car. It was an annoying journey, and honestly, for how long it took, an Uber might be worth it. Making it in the car, you drive her back to her apartment. Blasting music as Utahime rolled down her window, hot from singing the lyrics. “I'm turning the AC on, I'm getting hot,” she said, fanning her face as she turned the air on.

“Please, it's like 30 degrees, and I'm hot as hell,” you agreed, making sure she put it on high. Pulling into her parking garage, she hands the guard her card so that you'll be let in. It's a nice apartment, and it's near school. You didn't live too far from her, so you would be her ride sometimes, but she usually rode with Shoko, as they were roommates.

“Oh, are you still coming to our game night? I do gotta warn you, Suguru and Satoru are coming.” She asked, holding the door open as she was getting out. Shivering at the even colder temperature in the parking garage.

“They are?” you sulked, rolling your eyes. You forgot that Shoko was still cool with them, family friends apparently.

“Her friends, not mine, she promised that if they start being weird, they are getting right the fuck out,” she reassured. It seemed that might be her rule, but it's whatever.

“So in the first five minutes?” you laughed, she let out a groan, complaining that she didn't want to hear them talk about basketball for an hour again, like last time.

“I swear to you they had like 6 people hypnosed as they were talking about it, I can't do it again.” You weren't surprised; it is their job, kind of. “But, besides that, it's not just them, Nanami will be there, so he might cancel out their bullshit,” she held her hands up like she was praying before climbing over the seat and kissing your cheek goodbye.

You waved her off, watching as she got onto the elevator safely before driving off.

The game night was on Sunday, so you were sure you had plenty of time to mentally prepare.

—

Obviously not prepared enough.

“You're a fucking cheater, that's what.”

“My dick, you're trash at this game, bro, it's Jackbox!” You flexed your muscles, posing for your 3rd consecutive win. “Another dub for me.” Taking a bite out of your cupcake, it was an easy game. The dumbass even voted for your prompts a few times. You adjusted the crown on your head, flaunting it in his face.

“Yeah, whatever,” Satoru rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. He is such a child, it pissed you off how immature he is. He acts like he is the only one who lost the game when there are 8 other players who also lost.

Only ever thinks of himself. You don't see what people see in him, other than the way he shoots a ball, and he doesn't even want to do that.

So fucking annoying.

“Alright, alright, cool it down. We can just play something different; we've had enough rounds of this.” Shoko suggested, noticing how you were about to get started. Unlike Satoru, you can finish what you start.

Pulling out some Uno cards and the blank cards, writing something on them, and hiding them from the rest of you. Haibara tried peaking over but was quickly swatted away. “You'll see if it gets pulled.”

Playing dealer, Utahime shuffled the cards and passed them out to each player, putting half the deck down with one card facing up. With all seven cards, you kept a poker face as you beamed. Three draw fours and two wild cards. Utahime was the GOAT.

“Did you even shuffle these?” Suguru asked, rearranging his cards.

“Obviously,” she stated shortly, whistling at her own cards. “Anyway, who's going first?” With a few orders suggested, it was decided that Suguru would go first since he wanted to get rid of his cards so badly.

The game was slow at first, not a single draw, not even a skip. That was until Suguru called Uno, putting down a blue skip card on Satoru.

“You traitor, I thought we were in this together!” Satoru gasped dramatically, watching his turn go to Nanami. Suguru simply shrugged, placing his card face down on the carpet.

Finally, people started bringing out the good cards, giving Suguru thirty cards once Mei asked if they could stack the draw fours. Suguru was quick to say no, but that was quickly overruled once Haibara placed a draw four down.

“There's no way all of you had draw fours,” he held his cards together in a stack, not even bothering to spread them.

“Shouldn't have betrayed me.”

“It was one skip, I have thirty cards!”

“Sucks to suck.” Satoru patted him on the shoulder, holding only four cards. Obviously, Suguru was out of the game unless he could switch around, which was highly unlikely.

You'd love to see someone turn the game around with a whole deck in their hands. Many betrayals later and eight cards in your hand, Nanami took the win, putting down his final card, shuffling hands with Mei, who had only one card left, and took his twelve cards.

“Thank you, thank you.” Nanami bowed as you crowned him the winner, taking the one that was previously in your head from Jackbox. You were shocked that you lost with the cards you had. Unfortunately, you used them early instead of just pulling cards.

“Don't get too cocky, I'll just win it back next game,” you challenged, crowning yourself. He laughed, making sure the crown was firmly on his head. The second game continued; you didn't have cards as good as the previous game, but they were still good.

Putting down your last reverse and calling Uno, hoping no one would change the color, or worse, get you to draw cards.

“Uno!” Utahime called excitedly, putting down her second-to-last card.

“Yo, does anyone have another reverse?” Satoru asked, getting ready to place his card, and everyone shook their head. Shrugging, he placed the white card with writing on it. “What, bro, Shoko, you have doctor handwriting!” he laughed, trying to read the card but ultimately failing. He was right, for once, Shoko’s handwriting was absolutely atrocious, and trying to decipher it gave you a headache.

“My handwriting is not that bad, it says sudden death, everyone is now down to two cards, draw one, if you are at Uno,” she said as though it was obvious. Seeing the new chance at a win and to recover from the last game, Suguru surrendered all his cards except two.

“Not that bad?!” Haibara laughed, looking at the card, making sure what she said was true, but he couldn't pick out the number 2. “No wonder you are in med.”

“Not too much on my girl, she's gonna be my kid, doctor, I need her handwriting to be as doctorly we possible,” you admitted, hugging her tightly. She thanked you, kissing the side of your cheek.

“Poor kids.” Satoru quipped, putting his other cards in the deck. Of course, he couldn't keep his fat mouth shut, just when you were slightly okay with his presence.

“Ugh, can you shut the fuck up? Just because you have a bad case of butter fingers doesn't mean the rest of us do.”

“Here she goes,” he groaned, “we still whooped their asses, so it seemed my butter fingers worked just fine,” he said, using air quotes.

“Can you not? I'll kick both of you out,” Shoko warned, pointing to the door.

“It's good, I'm sure a lot of people don't mind my butter fingers,” he laughed, getting a chuckle out of the group. You gagged, motioning with your finger. “That too,” he grinned.

“You're so disgusting, I can't believe anyone would ever let you near them.” You rolled your eyes, realizing the irony, once Satoru burst out laughing, wiping tears from his eyes.

It was not that funny. You rolled your shoulders, not letting him get under your skin.

He acts as though he is getting paid to ragebait.

Biting your tongue, you kept your mouth shut the rest of the game, or else Shoko may beat your ass for choking Satoru. Holding in the urge, you waited patiently for your turn, placing your card down.

You had a wild card, you had a chance at winning until Shoko put down a draw two with a sympathetic apology. Accepting defeat, you let the rest of the game go out with Shoko taking the win. At least it was her and not him.

Nanami passed the crown onto Shoko, who swept the last round with great fanfare. After a few games of table tennis and a short game of Monopoly that was quickly won by MeiMei, you would've been a close second had you not sold your boardwalk to Suguru for 800. At the time, it was worth it, but in retrospect, it sold your game.

As midnight started to roll around, Haibara and Nanami left, claiming they had an early class, along with MeiMei, who had work. Throwing away empty cups and packaging up all the games, all that was left were a few blankets and Utahime’s PlayStation.

“Just leave it, I might as well leave it out here anyway.” Utahime yawned, wrapping a loose blanket around herself. Folding the fuzzy blanket, you placed it at the edge of the couch. Suguru and Shoko were having a conversation of their own in the kitchen, cleaning up remnants of the charcuterie board.

“Alright, I'm heading out, I'll see you later!” you announced, putting on your coat. They wished you goodbye. Shoko offered to walk you down, but you declined. They were still cleaning up, and she would get distracted too easily and end up not doing it until next week. The elevator ride was quiet, the day’s noise fading into the background.

When the doors slid open, you braced against the chill that crept into the parking garage, heels echoing against the damp concrete as you made your way toward your car. Holding your keys tight, your car was already running since you activated remote start on the elevator. At least your car won't be as cold. Pausing, you heard footsteps behind you, not too far behind.

It's not unusual for someone else to be down here, but you didn't appreciate how they were so close behind you. Speeding up, you hoped it would create some distance, but the steps didn't get any farther.

Doing a quick look around to see who it is, you could defend yourself, but you needed to see if they could outrun you to your car. Your face instantly dropped, scrolling on his phone, of course, it was Satoru. He is nothing to be scared of. Dropping your guard, you unlocked your car door, your hands latching onto the handle. Satoru followed right behind before looking up and staring between the two cars.

“That's you parking like this?” he scoffed, unlocking the door to his vehicle. Of course, he drives a Mercedes. Trashy fits trashy. There's no Shoko to stop you in the parking garage.

“Keep saying shit, and I'm hitting your shit,” you warned. He scoffed, dangling his keys, urging, begging you to hit his car. Continuing to talk, he doesn't have to worry, you've got something for him.

—

Finally quiet, you don't have to hear that agitating voice anymore. Sure, there was some moaning here or there, but you made sure to shove your panties deep enough down his throat that it was muffled. Grinding your hips, relishing in the sensation. A sharp, stinging slap landed on your ass, the sound cracking through the humid air of the room. You gasped, your rhythm faltering.

His throat hummed, rolling your eyes, you reluctantly removed the soaked garment from his mouth. “What?”

"Keep going. Or are you already tired?" You clenched around him, a silent, petty retaliation, and were rewarded with a faint, sharp hiss of air through his teeth. A victory, however small. You wish he had a mute button. You began to move again, your thighs burning as you rose and fell, the slick, wet sound of your bodies meeting filling the silence he'd just broken.

The stretch was still a brutal, breathtaking ache, a feeling of being split open on the thick, unyielding length of him. Your own juices, a traitorous flood, made the slide easier, coating him and dripping down to soak the sheets beneath his hips.

You dared a glance down. Satoru's head was tipped back against the pillows, his white hair fanned out like a halo. His eyes were half-lidded and fixed on the place where your bodies joined. A faint, infuriatingly beautiful smirk played on his lips.

"Look at that," he murmured, his voice a lazy taunt. "Making such a mess. You're dripping all over me, and you're not even halfway there." His hands, which had been resting idly on your thighs, came up to grip your ass. His touch wasn't gentle; it was rough and controlling. His thumbs dug into the soft flesh of your cheeks.

"You're so fucking- irritating," you managed to pant out, your voice strained. The smirk on his face widened. Leaning forward, forcing his cock impossibly further inside. Your back met the sheets as he pushed your knees back towards your shoulders, folding you in half, exposing you completely.

The new angle was devastating, a ruthless, deep invasion that had you seeing stars. Each thrust was a deliberate, punishing act, aimed with cruel precision.

"Fuck- Satoru!" Your protest was weak and breathy. “If you don't shut up, I will get up and leave,” you warned, clenching your fist around the sheets below you.

He saluted you, holding his hand up to his forehead. Grabbing the discarded panties, he stuffed them back in his mouth. He grunted, his rhythm never faltering.

Tears welled in your eyes, a mixture of overwhelming sensation and sheer, undiluted hatred for the man pounding into you. A single traitorous tear escaped, tracing a hot path down your temple and into your hairline. He drove into you harder, faster, the bedframe slamming against the wall in a frantic, jarring rhythm.

The sounds were obscene—the wet, slapping union of your bodies, your choked sobs, his low, controlled grunts. You were unraveling, coming apart under his relentless, detached scrutiny, and he was savoring every second of your pleasure.

You squeezed your own eyes shut, trying to block him out, to retreat into the purely physical sensation. But it was impossible. His presence was a brand, searing into you.

The scent of his cologne, clean and expensive now, mingled with the raw, salty smell of sweat and sex, was inescapable. The feel of his hands, bruising on your hips, was an unfortunate reminder of who was fucking you.

If only it weren't for that god-awful mouth of his.

A low, guttural sound vibrated in his chest, muffled by the lace. You forced your eyes open. A thin string of saliva had escaped the corner of his mouth, glistening against the dark fabric.

It dripped, landing with a warm, wet splat on your abdomen. The sight sent a fresh wave of heat through you. The clear fluid dripping from your panties was absolutely ruined after this. There goes another pair.

Your fingers wrapped around the fitted sheet, his movements became less rhythmic, more desperate, a frantic pistonning that was all friction and need.

The brutal stretch was now a familiar, welcome burn, a feeling of being so completely filled there was no room for thought, for his voice, for your own hatred.

His hands left your hips. One slid up your sweat-slicked thigh, a strangely intimate gesture that made you flinch, before pushing it towards the bed, spreading your legs further. The other hand found your clit, his thumb circling with a brutal, practiced efficiency that was anything but tender.

A broken, ragged cry was torn from your throat. Your nails, which had been gripping the sheets, now scraped down his chest, leaving angry red trails in their wake. The pressure in your core tightened, coiling into a knot of pure, unbearable tension.

You were close. So close. And he knew it. His hips began to piston upwards to meet your frantic descents, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, more precise. The muffled grunts from behind the panties took on a sharper, more urgent edge. You could feel the quickened heartbeat beneath your splayed fingers.

"Don't stop," you gasped, the words barely audible, a plea and a threat all at once. He nodded, a desperate moan muffled. He held your gaze, unblinking, as the world dissolved into a white-hot static. Your orgasm ripped through you not with a sweet release, but with a violent, seismic convulsion.

It was a seizure of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, a raw, screaming unraveling of your very self. Your back arched violently against the hand in your hair, a silent scream trapped in your throat as your vision whited out.

You clenched around him, a series of ruthless, involuntary spasms that milked him. Through the haze, you felt his own control finally snap. A sharp, choked sound was stifled by the fabric in his mouth. His body went rigid beneath you, his hips slamming up one last, final time, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled into you with a hot, pulsing rush. His grip on your thigh tightened painfully, his other hand still working your oversensitive clit with a relentless pressure that prolonged the agonizing, exquisite waves of your climax until you were sobbing, pushing weakly at his wrist.

For a moment, there was only the sound of ragged breathing and the frantic hammering of your own heart. The room stank of sex and sweat and him. You could feel the rapid, heavy thud of his heartbeat against your skin.

His hand loosened on your thigh, his fingers uncurling to stroke the damp skin. You looked up at him. The infuriating smirk was back, though it seemed a little looser, a little more genuine. A thin trail of saliva had dried on his chin. He looked wrecked, and beautiful, and utterly, insufferably pleased with himself.

With a grimace of disgust, you reached out, hooking a finger into the side of the soaked lace in his mouth. You pulled. It came free with a wet, sucking pop. He worked his jaw, licking his swollen lips. "Fuck," he breathed, his voice hoarse. He looked up at you, his gaze traveling over your flushed, tear-streaked face, your heaving chest. "You're a nightmare."

"Don't ruin it," you shot back, your own voice raw.

You moved to get off him, but his hands shot to your hips, holding you in place. You were still joined, still connected, and the movement sent a fresh, oversensitive jolt through you. You hissed.

"Not yet," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. His thumbs stroked the sharp bones of your hips. "I'm not done looking." You wanted to argue. To slap that look off his pretty face. But a deep, pervasive lethargy was seeping into your bones. The fight was gone, drained out of you along with everything else.

So you stayed there, impaled on his cock, enduring his leisurely, post-coital inspection. You focused on the feeling of him still inside you, the slow, soft pulse of him beginning to soften. Breaking the silence, his voice was a low rumble. "You cry pretty." He said it like an observation, a neutral fact.

"You're so weird," you mumbled, the insult lacking any real heat.

"I know." He shifted beneath you, a slight, deliberate movement that made you gasp. “I think you're a big fan of butter finger weirdos.”

You didn't deny it. Denial was a game for when you had your clothes on. Here, naked and spent, the truth was a physical thing, a sticky, cooling reality between your thighs.

You liked winning. You liked the brutal, honest physics of the friction. You liked the way he could, for brief, stolen moments like this one, be quiet. Finally, his grip on your hips loosened. You took the opportunity to push yourself off him, wincing at the slick, messy sensation as you separated.

You didn't look back at him as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, your body feeling heavy and used. You stood on shaky legs, wanting nothing more than a shower so hot it would make your skin steam.

You heard the rustle of sheets behind you as he sat up. You could feel his eyes on your back, on the marks you knew his hands had left on your ass and hips. “You're such a player,” he accused, feigning his face as though he had been used. Your wobbly legs and ruffled hair beg to differ.

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes, putting on your clothes scattered on the floor; your panties were a no-go. Soaked on the bed leaves a dark patch on the sheets. Commando it is.

“You sure you don't want a ride?” he asked, lifting from his spot.

“No, I can drive myself.” Grabbing your keys off the bench at the end of the bed. It was noticeably crooked, not in the position it was when you entered the room. Pushing it back into the place you opened his bedroom door, making your escape.

Throwing on some underwear and a robe, tossing the tied-up condom in the trash, Satoru followed behind you. Urging him that you could get to your car on your own, he followed you all the way down, not leaving until you got in your car.

You should hold up on your promise and scratch up his car, but you'll save that for another day. One where your back isn't trying to murder you.

The world outside felt different, quieter, as you drove home in the early morning darkness. In the shower, you let the hot water wash away the night, trying to scrub off memories that stubbornly clung to your skin.

By the time you collapsed into your own bed, the sun was starting to rise, painting the ceiling in pale hues of regret and relief.

—

What was supposed to be a one-time thing became a pattern, days blurring together until you stopped bothering to make excuses for why you were at Satoru’s place again. It was easier to let the routine happen. You told yourself it was just convenience, but the lines between hate and habit were starting to get messy.

Satoru would be tolerable for a few days before he started to piss you off again, but the dick was good. The only thing was, he couldn't seem to stop leaving marks on you.

Once Utahime found a hickie on the back of your neck, the day you decide to wear an off-the-shoulder top, too. You hid it behind your hair, hoping no one else saw it except her. Flaunting around a hickie was not a badge you wanted to wear. Obviously, she didn't automatically assume it was Satoru of all people. Instead of cheering you on for finally getting laid after so long.

It felt weird now that you've had Satoru’s fingers 6 inches deep inside of you, seeing him play basketball with the same hands.

It made you think what it would be like to be in the bleachers watching him play, but not as some hidden fuck buddy, but as his. That thought sent a revolting shiver up your spine, you don't think you could last being his girlfriend, or worse wife. You didn't want to end up just a “basketball player's boo,” not when it took you so much work to get to this point.

He wasn't boyfriend material.

Sometimes he would look up and see you in your seat, where you would look back and wave, partially back to his game but also as a greeting. It was strange and unfamiliar, knowing you didn't hate him as much as you did a few weeks, even months ago.

“Satoru?” you called out, pausing before speaking up again. “Are you…thinking of going pro?” you asked. You didn't even know if it was something you should be asking; he was pulling up his briefs, turning back toward you. Conversations were usually brief, with no comments on the other's future.

“Like after I graduate?”

“Yes,” you groaned as though it were obvious, you have no idea why he acts stupid. “Like as a career,” you said it slowly, hoping it wouldn't come out like you were getting ready to ask him out. Absolutely not. The question has been bugging you every time you saw him, all this work and talent, and he doesn't want to go professional. You were sure there were plenty of teams waiting for him. Maybe then, after a few years, you could brag about how you used to mess with him. Far into the future, when your dislike is far away from him.

“Why?” he grinned, holding your shoulders tight. Based on his tone, you knew he was about to say something stupid. “You know... there's something I’ve been wanting to try, so-”

“I would rather mop the ocean, no dumbass,” you sighed, slapping him on his chest. You already knew what he was about to say, and you would die if you heard those words come out of his mouth. “I'm just curious,” you admitted.

Accepting your response, he rolled over, wrapping his arm around your waist, massaging the flesh beneath his fingers. It was a type of affection you became accustomed to after you ended up staying over for a few nights.

This was the second time this week that you've been in his bed. “Yeah, at first I didn't want to, but it's fun,” he confessed, yawning into your skin. His breath was hot but reassuring.

Maybe he wouldn't be such a waste after all. If this went on long enough, you might be able to get free tickets to games.

—

The first time it happened was an accident. A collision of convenience and contempt that should have been a one-off.

Satoru thought that adding you to his schedule would disrupt it greatly, but after two months of finding himself wrapped in the same sheets as you, the scent of your shampoo and your shared sweat clinging to his pillows, it didn't seem like it was ending anytime soon. He wasn't mad about it either.

At first, he'd been hesitant to believe that he would ever, in a million years, hear you make a sound that wasn't a cheese grater to his ears, much less one that was panting his name, begging for more.

The bed chemistry was like no other. It was an efficient language all its own. He'd let you call him all sorts of things if it meant he got to feel your warm, slick walls wrap so tightly, so lovingly around his cock.

It was on a Tuesday, three weeks in, that he made the connection. He had a major exhibition match that evening, one he'd been oddly tense about. The pressure was a low hum under his skin, a rare and unwelcome sensation.

You'd shown up at his apartment under the guise of picking up your lip gloss or something, one he didn't remember you leaving. A familiar routine of crowding you against his front door and your mouth finding his in a furious kiss, and letting him eat you out partially naked on his couch.

Later, on the court, he felt untouchable. His movements were fluid, his reflexes preternatural, his mind clear and sharp.

Every shot was perfection. He dominated the game with effortless grace that left coach Yaga stunned. Driving home, the high of victory still thrumming in his veins, he replayed the day. The only variable, the only change in his routine, had been you.

He tested the theory. The next practice match, he fucked you in his shower beforehand, your body braced against the cool tiles, his hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise.

He played like a god. The following week, before a grueling two-hour training session, he'd made you cum twice with his mouth in the back of his car, tasting your release on his tongue. His stamina that day was legendary. It became his secret. His lucky charm. Not you, specifically. He'd never grant a person that much power, but the act itself. The raw, physical expenditure.

The way your body responded to his, it drained the restless, aggressive energy from him and left only a cool, focused calm.

The sun was high, casting sharp, clean lines of light across the disheveled sheets of his bed. He was soaking up the feel of your skin like a sponge, unable to resist the urge to leave his mark on the canvas of your body.

He slid one hand down the delicate dip of your spine, a sweeping gesture, while the other pressed down firmly on your lower stomach. The pressure was intimate, invasive, making him groan as he felt the shape of himself moving deep inside you.

"Fuck," you whined, your feet pressing into the mattress, toes curling as you tried to ground yourself. The sound, the sight, the feeling.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Firm. Insistent.

“Did you hear that?” you gasped. He pressed harder, grinding the heel of his hand against you. A ragged moan was torn from his throat as your gummy walls clenched around him in a sudden, violent spasm, a direct, visceral reaction to the pressure.

"They'll go away," he breathed, his voice rough. "Just like that." You just panted, a broken, wet sound, turning your face into the pillow. He didn't like that. He wanted to see it.

To see your features twist and change because of him. He drilled into you relentlessly, the headboard tapping a steady, insistent rhythm against the wall.

Snaking his hand around your throat, he held onto it lightly, not cutting off air, just applying enough pressure for you to feel the weight of his control, the potential of his strength. Your eyes, wide and dark, flew to his.

He saw the shock, the fury, and beneath it, a thrilling, undeniable flicker of surrender. "Look at you," he murmured, his thumb stroking the frantic pulse under your jaw. With a scream that was half-sob, half-triumph, you cried out, your release flooding his sheets, your body convulsing around him.

The sensation was too much, rhythmic clenching of your inner muscles pulling his own orgasm from him with brutal efficiency. He followed you over the edge with a low, guttural groan, spilling his cum deep inside the condom, his hips stuttering through the last few, shallow thrusts.

The sunlight felt obscenely bright, illuminating the sheen of sweat on your bodies, the mess you'd made of his bed. He shifted his weight off you, but didn't pull away completely, one arm slung possessively across your waist.

This was the part he tolerated. The quiet aftermath. The way your body, spent and pliant, seemed to fit perfectly against his.

As usual, you pulled your body up, slipping on your clothes, he would've enjoyed the view a little longer had another knock come at the door. “They're still there?” you said, a little surprised by the determination to see Satoru.

Pulling up your leggings, “I have plans," you snapped, seeing how he was still oogling at you, “I don't have time."

"Plans?" he drawled, lacing his fingers behind his head. The picture of indolent satisfaction.

You shot him a glare over your shoulder as you fastened your bra. "Friends, actually. Something you probably wouldn't understand the concept of."

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing up, stretching with an obnoxious display of his muscular frame, making sure you were looking. He knew you were.

You hated that you did. You pulled the shirt over your head, your face emerging with your hair a mess, your lips still swollen from his kisses. You looked thoroughly ruined. It was a better look on you than the usual annoyed expression you reserved for him.

"You know, for someone who claims to hate the sound of my voice, you're awfully responsive to it when it's telling you how wet you are."

Walking out of his bedroom to the front door, he followed closely behind, fumbling to put on briefs and sweatpants. One shoe on, and pointed a finger at him.

"Do not. Start."

“C’mon, can't you just cancel, you know I wanted to try this thing where you hang-”

"I'd rather tell them I have a contagious skin disease," you retorted, shoving your other foot into your shoe. You grabbed your purse from his coat hanger and slung it over your shoulder. "Good luck with your game, I guess.” You unlocked the door and yanked it open.

“Satoru, the fuck were you doing! We have pre-game-” Suguru was standing there, his fist raised to knock again. He blinked, his dark eyes sweeping over the scene with the swift, analytical precision of a seasoned strategist.

The assessment took only a second, but the damage was done.

Suguru's jaw went slack for a fraction of a second before his composure slammed back into place, his expression shifting from impatience to stunned comprehension.

"Oh, my god." You pinched the bridge of your nose. Pushing past the statue-like Suguru, who was holding a cardboard tray with two drinks: black coffee and an iced cappuccino slathered with whipped cream. The movement was so abrupt it nearly sent the tray flying.

"This," Suguru began to laugh, his voice laced with a world of exasperation, "was not on my parlay."

Satoru shrugged, stepping back to let Suguru in. Suguru moved to the couch, placing the tray on the low table before sinking into the cushions with a weary sigh. He handed the sickeningly sweet iced cappuccino to Satoru,

“You think Yaga is going to get mad if I drink this?” Satoru asked, taking a long sip. It didn't replace the hydration he needed, but it satiated his sweet tooth.

“Yo! Don't change the subject, I didn't know you were together,” Suguru laughed, snatching the remote from Satoru to keep him on track. “And yes, Yaga will be pissed,” he answered.

"Together?!" Satoru gasped, recoiling as if struck. He looked at Suguru as though he'd just suggested the Earth was flat, one hand flying to clutch his own heart dramatically. "Have you finally lost it?"

“Fwb?” Suguru tried again, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.

“Fuck no,” Satoru scoffed, taking another sip of his drink. “I would never be friends with her evil ass.”

Suguru studied his best friend.“So if she got with another dude, you wouldn't care, you don't like her at all?” Suguru asked, trying to understand what was going on.

Satoru fell silent. He stared into the swirling brown and white of his drink, actually thinking about it. He imagined you in the library, laughing at something some other guy said.

He pictured some faceless stranger's hands on your waist, his head bent close to your ear, sharing something only you would hear. He imagined you calling out for someone else's name while they embraced your skin. It didn't bring him joy, nor anger.

He tried to imagine the opposite, taking you on a date, holding your hand in public, calling you his girlfriend.

The concept was so revolting, so suffocatingly domestic, it almost made him gag. “That poor guy,” he said with mock pity, “I am not claiming her.” he let out a snort.

He paused, a thoughtful look crossing his features. "But I have been playing better. My stats are up since...would it really be worth it?” he mumbled to himself, grimacing at the thought of staying with you for the rest of his basketball career.

If being with you meant he would get a boost, he might be less opposed to taking your hand.

“Whatever works for you, now get up, we are going to be late.”