#emoguru

The energy on campus is buzzing on Friday afternoon after he steps out of his statistics class. Finals are over, which means the frat is throwing their last party before the break. It’s been the most successful party every year he’s been there, and he plans to make the most of it.

He spends the afternoon helping clean the house and bothering Nanami in the kitchen, then pretties himself up before the guests start arriving. A thin smear of eyeliner here, some silver rings and a chain there, and only the classiest of shirts to finish it off — a white tee shirt reading ‘two seater,’ with an arrow pointing up and one pointing down. It’s tastefully cropped to expose the low-riding jeans and his v-line he works hard to keep intact. With this outfit, he’s sure he’ll have people falling all over him. All he has to do is choose one.

A couple people have already arrived when he finally graces the first floor with his presence. Some of his brother’s girlfriends or situationships, a couple people bringing drinks, and the DJ are already milling around, while his brothers finish setting up. Satoru helps Toji hook up the sound system while Choso works on snacks.

Soon, people start to arrive. The lights are dimmed, and the bass thumps through the house, like a heartbeat in his chest. He weaves through the crowd of girls in tight clothes and guys trying to get handsy with them, drink in hand, to observe his options for the night. People are already staring at him, hoping he’ll notice them, but Satoru doesn’t give anyone that kind of chance. If they want him, they have to come talk to them. Satoru Gojo is not the kind of guy who chases, yearns, or begs. None of that bullshit.

He scans the sea of people moving to the rhythm, but almost misses Shoko. She’s approaching him with a drink clutched in one hand, a purse in the other. Utahime is trailing behind her, and they’re both wearing cute minidresses. He doesn’t tell them that, though — instead, he says, “Utahime, you’re supposed to wear the dress, not drown in it.”

She glares at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your tits are too small for that dress.” He takes a sip of whatever vodka-infused nightmare Sukuna had made earlier. “It’s gonna fall off.”

She doesn’t even dignify him with a response, just rolls her eyes and walks away. That leaves Shoko, who’s already pulling her pack of cigarettes out of her bag. “Smoke?”

“Not inside.” Satoru pushes open the door they’re beside. “Sukuna would kill me.”

“Maybe he should. You’re such awful company.” She’s already lighting it as she steps outside. Satoru springs aside to avoid her secondhand smoke as they get comfy on the patio furniture. It’s a little more quiet out here, the music mostly blocked by the walls. A few partygoers linger about, but most of them are busy with their own conversations.

“You wouldn’t have offered a smoke if you didn’t like me,” he says pointedly.

She gives him a look. Her gaze drops to his shirt. Silently, she looks back up at him, then takes a long, long drag from her cigarette.

“Hey!” He crosses his arms as she coughs and splutters. “What’s that look for?”

“Who do you think you’re seducing with that shit?” She takes a sip of her drink.

“Almost everyone. Trust, I just have to bat these baby blues and then I’m in.” He smirks at her over the rim of his cup.

“Yeah, alright. They didn’t work on me.”

“That’s because something is broken up there.” He pokes her in the forehead. “You have something rattling around loose.”

“That’s not how that works,” she says flatly.

Satoru shrugs. “Maybe it’s because you know me too well, then.”

“Probably that second one.” Shoko lifts her cup to her lips. Her eyes light up as she does, and she raises her hand, waving someone down.

“Who are you waving at?” Satoru turns around in his seat. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees the sight walking toward him.

He’s so pretty Satoru’s not even totally sure he’s a boy. Long, silky black hair flows down his shoulders, though a portion of it is tied back in a topknot. He’s wearing ripped jeans with fishnets underneath them, a black tank top with some obscure band name, and chunky platform boots. Eyeliner sharpens his gaze and matches the black nail polish that looks freshly applied.

“Suguru!” Shoko calls, finally snapping Satoru out of thought. “Come meet my friend! This is his party.”

Satoru stares up at him as he stops at the table. He swallows, hard, mouth suddenly very dry.

Suguru gives him a once over, then turns to Shoko. “I thought you said he talks a lot. He hasn’t said a word since you saw me.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty unusual.” Shoko leans across the table and pokes him in the arm.

The contact is enough to snap him out of it. His eyes flit around. “Sorry, hi, I’m Satoru. I think I’ve had too much to drink.”

“No worries.” Suguru smiles politely. “This is your party? It’s awesome!”

“Thanks! Uh, yeah, me and my frat put this end of term party together every year.” Satoru smiles. “Really had to go all out this year, you know, since most of us are graduating.”

“Uh-huh.” Suguru leans on the table. “Nice shirt. This must be a classy place.”

Satoru looks down at his shirt, then back up at the two of them. “Yeah. You know…sometimes I just need someone to sit on my face.”

Shoko’s brows furrow. “What’s happening? Are you flirting? Or trying to?”

“Not with you,” Satoru snaps, before turning his gaze back to Suguru. “Um…but yeah. Is it working?”

“Not even a little bit.” Suguru has a smug grin on his face. “Maybe if you go get me a drink you’ll have a better chance.”

Satoru stands up, nearly tripping over his own feet as he does. “Okay. Just give me a few minutes.”

He realizes what he’s doing the minute he steps into the kitchen. Satoru Gojo has stooped low enough to try. He’s getting a drink for a guy with only hopes that he’ll actually entertain a conversation with him. So much for not yearning or begging.

He passes Choso, who looks like he’s exactly where he wants to be — backed up against the wall by his girlfriend, Yuki, and trapped there. God, is that what Satoru is going to turn into? A sap? A pathetic guy like Choso, who folds at nothing more than a smile?

The answer is yes. Suguru’s smile makes his heart race when he places the drink on the table in front of him.

“What did you get me?” Suguru picks up the cup and takes a sip. His nose wrinkles, and he shivers. “Fuck, that’s strong. You could have at least mixed something in.”

“Sorry.” Satoru sits beside him. “The guy in charge of drinks looked busy.”

“And what, you don’t know how to make drinks?” Shoko asks, cigarette dangling from between her fingers.

“He was standing in front of all the mixes.” Satoru pouts. “Trust, if I could interrupt I would, but Yuki is a take no prisoners kinda girl. If I get in her way she’ll peg me, too.”

“And that’s such a bad thing?” Suguru asks.

Satoru’s stomach does flips. It seems like an innocent question, but he can sense there’s more to it than that. “Yeah. I’m not that kind of guy.”

“So what kind of guy are you?” His violet eyes hold contact intensely.

“The kind who knows what he likes.”

“But life is no fun if you’re always doing the same thing.” Suguru crosses his legs and smiles warmly. “Sometimes you just need to experiment.”

Shoko looks between the two of them. “I’m gonna go find Utahime before you start fucking in front of me.”

Satoru splutters. “Wait, Shoko, don’t leave me — "

“Afraid to be alone with me?” Suguru looks him up and down, slowly.

“Yes,” Satoru says before he can think. “I mean…no. I’m not.”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“Too much weed.”

“If you want to kiss me, you just have to ask.”

A beat. “So…are you gonna let me kiss you?”

“Ask nicely.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Nicer.”

Satoru huffs. God, this guy is pushy, and annoying, but he’s so fucking hot neither of those things matter. “Please, can I kiss you?”

“Good,” Suguru purrs. His arm snakes around the back of Satoru’s neck. “I like hearing that.”

Satoru’s heart thumps wildly as he leans in. Suguru’s lips brush against his, and Satoru makes a soft, involuntary sound. Suguru smirks and finally pulls him in.

Satoru kisses him until his lungs burn. He’d gladly let his brain cells die if it means getting to kiss him. It’s not like he needs them for anything — this is all he ever wants to do for the rest of his life, anyways.

Suguru pulls away first and presses a hand to Satoru’s chest when he tries to follow him. “Breathe.”

Satoru’s eyes follow him as he tosses his silky hair over his shoulder. He wants to run his fingers through it, see the way Suguru will purr — and then pull it, and watch what he does.

“You’re thinking too much.” Suguru snaps in front of his nose. “There’s too many people here.”

“My room is upstairs,” Satoru offers without a second thought. “We can go up there.”

“Sure.” Suguru stands and picks up his drink before linking hands with his partner for the evening. “Lead the way.”

Satoru leads him from the patio through the crowded living room, before climbing the narrow staircase tucked away to the side of the room. The door at the top of the stairs — Choso’s room — is closed, but the sound of the bed slamming against the wall and his muffled moans is crystal clear through the walls.

“How often do you get this show?” Suguru asks, grinning.

“At least once a week. I told you, Yuki’s scary.” Satoru continues down the hall and turns the corner. At the end of the hall are two doors with a table between them. He opens the one on the right and glances over his shoulder at Suguru. “Come on in.”

For a room in a frat, it’s actually well furnished. A bed, with a frame, is set against one wall. Two beanbag chairs lay at the foot of it, facing a huge television with various consoles plugged in. On the opposite wall, a desk scattered with papers occupies a corner across from the door, while a rack of hung clothing is parallel to the bed.

“Not bad,” Suguru muses. He spins slowly, taking everything in, before sitting on the bed. “I’ve definitely seen worse.”

Something turns in Satoru’s stomach at the idea of Suguru with someone else, which he knows is a ridiculous reaction, because he only just met him. But he hates the thought of a different pair of hands running over his smooth skin and eliciting those sweet moans from his lips.

“How come I’ve never seen you before?” Satoru asks. He busies himself, opening a music app on the television and turning on a mix to play quietly in the background. “Shoko is here all the time.”

“I’m not really a party guy,” Suguru says honestly.

“So what brings you here today?” Satoru finally turns to look back at him.

“I’m done here.” Suguru looks up at him. “This was my last year. I figured I should give this a try before I become an office drone for the rest of my life.”

“And how do you like it so far?” Satoru sits beside him on the bed.

“I don’t, much.” Suguru’s eyes rake over him. “But the company isn’t bad.”

“Not bad?” He scoffs.

“Not bad.” Suguru winds his arms around Satoru’s neck. “It’s gonna be a lot better when you’re begging me to let you come.”

Satoru smirks. “Oh, yeah, I’m sure that’s how it’s gonna go.”

“Mm.” Suguru kisses him, just a quick peck. “You have no idea what you signed up for, frat boy.”

“My name is Satoru.”

“I know what your name is.” Suguru’s fingers curl in his overgrown hair. “Are you going to keep talking, or are you going to kiss me?”

Satoru chooses the latter. His arms slide down to pull Suguru closer by his waist. He settles so nicely in his lap, and the weight of him puts just the right amount of pressure on the tent he’s rapidly starting to sport.

Suguru is merciless. He grinds his hips down over and over until Satoru is moaning against his mouth. He’s just as affected, though, erection straining against his zipper. He curses when Satoru starts to kiss his neck and paws desperately at the button, trying to get them off.

“Here,” Satoru murmurs, mouth against his pulse point. He pops the button and pulls the zipper down, easing the pressure. His own dick throbs, hot and heavy, making its opinion clear. His hips circle up against Suguru’s again.

“Take this off,” Suguru mutters. He pulls at the hem of Satoru’s inappropriate shirt and tosses it aside once they get it over his head together. He pulls his own shirt off, too, and throws it somewhere on the floor before turning back to Satoru, who’s eyes are fixed on the little silver barbells decorating his nipples. “Oh, you like those?”

“How long have you had them?” Satoru asks, running his hands up to grip Suguru’s rib cage.

“About a year.” Suguru smiles at him. “They’re healed, if you want to touch them.”

“Thank god.” Satoru dives right in. Not with his hands, but with his mouth. He licks the smooth skin surrounding the jewelry before running his tongue slowly, carefully, over his nipple. He does it again, tongue flicking the jewelry this time. When he goes back for a third pass, he stays — he starts to suck and tug gently at the jewelry with his teeth.

“Oh fuck,” Suguru breathes. His nails dig into Satoru’s scalp. “Mm, yeah. They’re still sensitive.”

Satoru’s large hand splays against his chest before his thumb flicks over the other nipple, finally deciding to give it some love too. He pulls on the jewelry, then mimics the movements with his teeth before pulling away, lips shiny with spit. His cheeks are flushed a ruddy pink, and he’s panting hard.

Suguru is in much better shape. His chest is shiny and his nipples are swollen, but he still looks like he’s much more collected than Satoru. Of course, the wet spot where his dick is leaking says otherwise.

“Fucking hell,” Suguru mutters. “Get your pants off. Now.”

Satoru does so eagerly. He pushes his jeans and boxers off and throws them into the piles on the floor. His cock bobs between his legs, hard and heavy and aching. He sits on the bed while he waits, watching Suguru strip as he does.

Finally, they’re both bare. Suguru pushes him back onto the mattress and climbs on top. Satoru leans up on his elbows and kisses him, cock jerking against his ass. His hand slides down his lower back until he finds the round of his ass. He gives it a firm squeeze before quickly moving on and ghosting his fingertips between Suguru’s cheeks. Something solid brushes his fingertips.

“What’s this?” he asks, fingertips finding purchase on the rim of whatever it is. He wiggles it around slightly and laughs when Suguru makes a noise. “Oh, I know what this is. You were ready for this, huh?”

“Of course I was. Shut up.” Suguru guides his hand. He moans quietly when Satoru finally pulls the plug from his ass, leaving him gaping.

His rim is still slick with lube, but Satoru presses two fingers in all the same, just to make sure.

Suguru gasps against his mouth. “Oh, yeah…”

“Yeah?” Satoru asks, voice low and seductive. He curls his fingers, crooking them against Suguru’s prostate.

“Fuck!” Suguru hisses. “Mm, hurry up.”

“Alright, alright.” Satoru wipes his hand on his sheets. He reaches over to his nightstand and rifles through a drawer until he finds a small bottle and a square-shaped foil package. “Lemme put this on.”

Suguru stares down at him intensely. The second he has the condom rolled on, he moves. He lifts his hips and sinks down on Satoru’s length. It’s thick, and hard, and fills him to the absolute brim.

“Guh.” Satoru’s head falls back against the pillows. Suguru is tighter than sin, and the look on his face makes it hard to keep from blowing his load.

Suguru laughs and tangles his fingers with Satoru’s. “Hold on there, okay? You need to last for a little longer.”

“Fuck. Mm.” Satoru’s hips roll up into the tight warmth squeezing his dick. “God, you’re fucking tight.”

“I can feel your dick throbbing.” Suguru moans quietly and braces his forearms on Satoru’s shoulders. His head falls back as he raises and lowers himself, and a sharp gasp falls from his lips.

Satoru’s hands shake with the effort of holding back. It’s all he can do keep himself from grabbing those pretty, tempting hips of his and slamming him down on his cock over and over until neither of them can take it anymore.

“God — you’re big — " Suguru’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. “Fuck, there’s so much — "

He tries to force a weak smile onto his face. “Yeah? That’s good, baby? Having f-fun?”

Suguru gives him a look that’s impossible to decipher before swiveling his hips. His hands slide down Satoru’s chest and grip at his skin, like he’s trying to ground himself. But Satoru simply blinks, and he finds himself falling backwards, pushed away by Suguru to lay flat on his bed. He tries to sit up, but those hands lock in place around his wrists, keeping him exactly where he is.

Suguru is panting and half-lidded above him. “Are you still laughing?”

Satoru’s dick twitches hard inside him.

“Good answer.” Suguru adjusts his position. He keeps Satoru’s wrists pinned with one hand, while the other cups his jaw, squishing his cheeks and holding his head in place while Suguru licks into his mouth.

Satoru, though he won’t voice it, is absolutely thrilled by this turn of events. Getting laid is exciting enough, but getting laid by a surprise dom? That’s even better.

“Fuck.” Suguru’s grip loosens as he grinds down into Satoru’s lap. “Ah — ah, fuck, right there — "

“Right there?” Satoru’s hips buck up. “Does that feel good? It’s good, right? I’m making it good for you…”

“It’s so good.” Suguru’s nails dig into his wrists. His words are slurred as he speaks. “You’re doing so good, baby.”

Satoru whimpers — whimpers! — at the praise. He almost wants to laugh at himself, but he can’t bring himself to. This is pathetic, and he knows it.

Suguru turns his head to the side and bites at his neck, marking the pale flesh with rings of imprints and tiny drops of crimson. He smiles against the skin when Satoru makes a choked noise and fucks up into him desperately, like he just can’t help himself. A little biting has him losing control completely.

Satoru’s gone hazy-eyed and dazed. The sudden snap in his face when Suguru leans forward is just what he needs, though. He’s instantly locked back in, hips grinding deep inside him and and swearing quietly under his breath.

“Yeah,” Suguru praises, eyes half lidded. “Keep your eyes on me. Good boy.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t say that.” Satoru grabs the sheets and squeezes, desperate for anything to keep him from coming too soon. “Oh my god, oh my god — "

“What, you don’t want me to call you…” Suguru slows on top of him, “a good boy?”

It’s useless. His hips buck upward into that warm, tight heat, and the dam breaks. His back arches, and he struggles against Suguru’s grip on his wrists. “Ah — h-ah, fuck, fuck, Suguru — !”

Suguru looks positively pleased with himself, like the cat that got the cream — in the most literal way possible. He brushes a bead of sweat from Satoru’s cheek, then starts to move again, hips grinding and undulating on top of Satoru.

“Oh god, wait, please, I just came…” Satoru’s protests fall on deaf ears. Suguru leans down to kiss him, muffling his protests.

“And you can do it again,” he finally says, breaking the kiss. He moans quietly and grips Satoru’s chest harder.

“Oh fuck, fuck, that hurts so bad, that hurts, please, stop, it’s too much!” Satoru begs, but Suguru only smiles at him. He whines and twists under him as the ache slowly turns into a confusing sort of pleasure. He’s not sure whether he wants to escape from it or not.

“Fuck, look at you.” Suguru bites his lip and takes Satoru’s chin between his fingers. “You’re crying.”

“I am?” He touches his cheek. Sure enough, a tear smudges on his skin. “It’s too much, Suguru, please.”

“Aw, don’t beg so hard.” Suguru’s breath hitches as he shifts on top of him. “It — fuck, it’s so hot. You’re gonna make me come.”

“So? I already came, hurry up.” Satoru bucks his hips and whimpers quietly when he clenches around him, sending little sparks of too much not enough up his spine.

“You’re telling me what to do now, huh?” Suguru’s brows pinch together as he slows to a devastating pace. He barely lifts his hips before rocking forward, keeping Satoru almost fully inside him at all times. It’s slow and torturous, and so, so loud. The slick sounds coming from the slide of sweaty skin on skin and lube is nasty, but it drives Satoru insane.

“Suguru,” he breathes. He squeezes his hips. “Please.”

“Please what?” Suguru’s hands spread out across his chest, painted nails digging into the pale skin. His thumbs flick Satoru’s nipples, which makes him jerk.

All Satoru can do is moan. His face flushes pink when he sees the smug smirk on Suguru’s lips.

“Please what?” Suguru repeats himself and ceases his movement completely.

Heat prickles on the back of Satoru’s neck. His dick throbs, overstimulated and somehow begging for another release. “Fuck, Suguru, please let me make you come. I’ll be so good at it, please, just stop torturing me. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Suguru smiles. “Mm, is that what you want?”

“Please.” His voice breaks with an edge of desperation.

After a moment of consideration, Suguru leans forward. He presses a soft kiss to Satoru’s lips, then grabs his shoulders and pulls him upright before laying himself down on the mattress.

“Fuck,” Satoru breathes, blue eyes blown with lust. His hands hover over Suguru’s skin. “Can I touch?”

“I’m gonna be mad if you don’t touch me.” Suguru rolls his hips.

It seems to remind Satoru what they’re in the middle of. He rolls his hips and curses quietly under his breath. His huge hands grab at Suguru’s thighs and tear at the fishnet leggings keeping him from skin contact.

Suguru giggles quietly until Satoru gets his hands on the back of his thighs. He pushes them back against Suguru’s chest and uses the leverage to slam into him so hard he almost chokes. His nails dig into Satoru’s back. “Fuck — "

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” Satoru whispers, burying his face in the crook of his neck, the words like a mantra. “Fuck, you feel so good. You’re so tight.”

“Oh god,” he pants, hips twitching. His cock twitches against his stomach, begging to be touched. “Oh, fuck, Satoru, right there, right there!”

“Here?” Satoru breathes, eyes wide and fixed intently on Suguru’s body. He drills into that spot until Suguru is literally shaking. “Is this good?”

Suguru responds the only way he knows how. He explodes all over his own chest. He didn’t even get a chance to touch himself.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m so — baby, I’m gonna come,” Satoru murmurs desperately. “‘M so close, oh fuck oh fuck, please — "

Suguru watches with a exhausted smile on his face. “Such a good boy, asking for permission.”

Satoru whimpers and slams into him.

“Fuck.” Suguru’s nails bite into his shoulders. “Yeah, you can come, go ahead. Come inside me. Fill me up like a good boy.”

Satoru’s eyes roll back. Heat rushes his veins, and his dick pulses as he empties himself into Suguru. He can’t keep his hands off him, either, gripping his hips and playing with his piercings.

The air is thick with the smell of sex and sweat, and it’s quiet; all they can hear are the sounds of them catching their breath. Eventually, when Satoru’s ears stop ringing, he can hear the party still going on downstairs, too. His eyes flutter shut as he pulls out, trying to ignore the way his dick twitches again.

He grabs his shirt from the floor and cleans both of them up, even while Suguru grumbles about being touched. When he can feel his legs again, he climbs out of bed and runs a hand through his hair.

“Want me to leave?” Suguru finally asks, opening one eye. “I know you don’t like sleepovers. Shoko told me.”

Satoru stares at him for a minute. He’s right, sleepovers aren’t his style — he’d rather just have fun and be done with it. But he likes the idea of waking up beside Suguru, watching him sleep, then dragging him downstairs in the morning to do the walk of shame together.

“Nah,” he finally says. “Stay as long as you want.”

That was the beginning of a very different chapter of Satoru Gojo’s life. A man who thought he’d never yearn or beg for anything or anyone had his life flipped upside in one night by a gorgeous, dark haired man who knew just what to say.