Chapter Text
Yuuji’s thumbs are flying over her screen as she replies to something stupid Maki said in the group chat. She’s wandering around Roppongi with Nobara after a late brunch date. They’re both a little buzzed from the mimosas they’d downed and it shows, shoulders bumping together as they stumble down the bustling streets.
“You know…you should really stop texting me all that crap about Satoru,” Nobara says out of nowhere, rolling her eyes. “What if you accidentally send it to him one day? Megumi bitches all the time that you’re constantly texting him instead of me about wanting to rip out your uterus.”
Yuuji shrugs, unconcerned. “It’s 2022, if he’s shocked that people with vaginas menstruate, that’s 100% not my problem. Besides, if Sukuna can deal with it, so can he.”
The king of curses mutters something rude in her head that she blithely ignores, way beyond getting riled up from his antics. He’s like a crotchety old man living rent-free in the attic of her mind, often yelling the vulgar equivalent of “hey you kids, get off my lawn” before disappearing into his domain with a grumble.
Nobara doesn’t seem to hear her, dark eyes narrowed unnervingly on her. Yuuji pats at her own face. It wouldn’t be surprising if there were crumbs from her earlier snack there.
“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Nobara says slowly, like she’s chewing on the words contemplatively. “Texting Satoru as an ‘accident.’”
Yuuji laughs, batting away the air quotes the other girl holds up.
“Yeah, okay. And what am I supposed to say, huh?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at the serious look she’s receiving. “No, seriously. Just text him something like ‘oh my god Nobara have I mentioned lately how much I want our old sensei to dick me down?’”
Nobara howls, head tilting back as she shakes it rapidly. “No, you adorable idiot. Something more straightforward like ‘bruh I’m so down bad for Satoru that I’d let him spit in my mouth while he rawdogs me from behind.’”
“Oh my god, I’m leaving. You are unhinged- go touch some grass or something! Oh my god.”
Covering her face, Yuuji sputters and walks away, leaving her evil friend to cackle by herself on the busy streets.
(Yuuji thought about it so often that his contact name is pulled up before she realizes she has no idea whether or not he’d even reciprocate her feelings. She closed it, every single time, but the thought is like an itch she can’t scratch. Sukuna didn’t help matters, tossing her a few crude suggestions that she absolutely did not consider. So when Gojo proposed a dinner party, Yuuji made sure every single person accepted the invitation. The hopeless crush she has on her former-sensei was known to everyone except, of course, the man himself. After very little deliberation, Yuuji turned the autocorrect on her phone off - just in case.)
“Shots!”
Nobara brings the tray over to mixed reviews. Satoru stopped drinking awhile ago, pleasantly buzzed as he fondly watches his former students get absolutely shitfaced.
It’s getting late on a Saturday night and they’re all draped lazily around a long table at a private restaurant. Their plates had been cleared hours ago and they’ve steadily descended into inebriated silliness.
Toge left a while ago to check on a gloomy Panda.
Yuuta’s a little green behind the gills as he grins weakly at the shot glass thrust into his hand.
Megumi flat out refuses, tugging the same beer he’s been nursing for the last half hour close to his chest.
Maki accepts hers gamely, shooting it back while Nobara squawks loudly.
Yuuji lets out a drunken whoop, drops of liquor sloshing dangerously over the side of the glass.
“KANPAI~”
“Whew! Another one?”
“Oh god, I can’t, no more please-”
“You guys are going to feel like shit tomorrow.”
“Sorry babe, but I’m going to need a minute.”
“Oh my god, guys, I can’t feel my face, is that-”
“Weird, cause your face is like, super red right now, Yuuji.”
Satoru’s going to fall out of seat if he laughs any harder but oh, Yuuta looks like he’s going to spew all over the table, both hands pressed tight to his mouth. Everyone else is laughing and scrambling to get away from him and their faces are so priceless that his phone is out in an instant, snapping pictures. He gets a couple videos too and he sends them to the group chat he shares with the older group of sorcerers.
Nanamin was going to reply with some drivel about how they never got this rowdy - total bullshit, by the way, and Satoru has the evidence to back it up.
To be honest, he is beyond thrilled that everyone accepted his invitation for the drinking party. It feels good to sit in the cozy room together, like a memory he’d take out later and sit with for hours.
Also, Yuuji is wasted and it’s the funniest shit Satoru’s ever seen in his entire life.
She’s adorably flushed with alcohol as she holds two rolled up napkins in a blatantly awful imitation of horns on her head. The half-cocked Loki impression she’s obnoxiously bellowing has an equally fucked up Nobara clutching at her sides and howling.
Yuuta is cautiously amused, scratching at his cheek and chuckling.
Megumi has an exasperated smile on his face that he tries to hide into his drink.
Maki’s cleaning underneath her nails but Satoru spies the upward quirk of her lips.
Toge is probably wishing he could crack a couple jokes right about now; everyone knows how dramatic Panda gets when he feels left out.
There’s a funny little thump in his chest. Something that feels suspiciously like home, like family stretches and curls up behind his ribs.
“Babe come here, tell Megumi about that weird dream you had the other night,” Maki calls out, waving Nobara over. “Remember? The one where you had to fight a curse that looked like a big fluffy kitten? She woke up crying, saying she couldn’t kill nekochan.”
Nobara’s hands are on her hips as she marches across the table, spluttering something Satoru doesn’t quite catch. Everyone except for him and Megumi were slurring their words and stumbling over each other.
Yuuji was the worst offender and the most obvious lightweight in the bunch. He glances a few seats down to where she’s zoning out, sitting with her legs tucked demurely on the floor pillow.
The outfit she’s wearing makes Satoru want to do things he probably shouldn’t want to do with a former student. There’s really not all that much skin showing but everything is so tight that she might as well be fucking naked.
Satoru lets himself stare because honestly, who was going to be able to call him out for it?
According to her loud complaining when she and Nobara showed up twenty minutes late, the young woman had been the one to shove Yuuji into the high boots and tiny skirt and indecently tight turtleneck.
Satoru doesn’t know whether he wants to kill Nobara or get on his knees and thank her for her brilliant, absolutely unmatched eye for fashion. He’s distracted away from the few inches of golden thigh when she fumbles her phone out of her bag, glancing furtively over at him.
Yuuji’s thumbs drag clumsily across the screen and he imagines that whoever the recipient is won't be able to understand a word of whatever she’s trying to say. By the way she’s now looking shiftily at Nobara, he has a solid guess of who gets the unfortunate task of figuring that mess out.
Satoru’s phone dings in his pocket almost immediately after Yuuji drops her phone and stares holes in the side of her friend’s head. Curious, he pulls it out and almost laughs out loud. It’s from Yuuji but he’s almost completely positive it wasn’t meant for him. Not that it’s going to stop him from taking a peek.
Itadori Yuuji: omg i cnat stadn it
Itadori Yuuji: NOBSRA
Feeling like this is too good to be true, he quickly silences his phone. She doesn’t notice him as he watches her start texting again.
Itadori Yuuji: like dp oyu SEE him rn
Itadori Yuuji: hes looksso ducking goos i want to cryu
Tomorrow, Satoru would tell her to put on the fucking autocorrect because good god that was messier than he thought possible. But tonight?
Oh, he is definitely going to be playing along. It’s not his fault if she can’t tell who she’s texting. For all he knows, the borderline incomprehensible words absolutely were intended for him.
Sufficiently reassured that this isn’t actually a huge invasion of privacy, he ducks his phone under the table and out of sight. Doing his best imitation of Nobara’s dry text voice, he taps out a reply.
Gojo Satoru: what are you talking about now?
Itadori Yuuji: omg nonway
Itadori Yuuji: i mean domt play dom
Itadori Yuuji: dumb
Itadori Yuuji: ive onlyt had a crushg on hm sonce ffoperv
Gojo Satoru: I literally have no idea what you’re talking about
Gojo Satoru: I can barely read what you’re saying
Biting his lip, he glances up to see Yuuji puffing indignantly. She grabs the glass of water she’s been ignoring all night and takes a few deep gulps. Patting her cheeks and sending an oblivious Nobara an 'are you happy now' sort of look, she picks up the phone, tongue poking out in concentration.
Itadori Yuuji: u KNOW who im talkgn about
Itadori Yuuji: ducking gojo
Itadori Yuuji: hes so hot im goign go ducking feral
Satoru drops his phone.
Managing to pick it up before it hits the floor and attracts unwanted attention, he wonders if this is what a heart attack feels like. Yuuji is twirling a lock of pink hair, almost pointedly avoiding him. His fingers have a slight quiver when he replies.
Gojo Satoru: you really think so? I don't get it but go off I guess
Gojo Satoru: what’s so hot about him, anyway?
It honestly hurts his soul to refer to himself that way. Satoru is hot, everybody knows it. But he wants to hear his all-time favorite student tell him all about it.
Itadori Yuuji: u msut be blind then
Itadori Yuuji: just liek…evrything tbh
Itadori Yuuji: his eyes are do pretty
Itadori Yuuji: and his ducking HANSD
Itadori Yuuji: i swear mypussy starts cryign when he pats my head
“You good over there, Satoru?”
Sitting up guiltily, he turns to Maki. The graduate is staring at him with one thin brow arched high, burn scars pulling her face into an irritated grimace. Although, that was her usual expression when in his presence. He’s honestly surprised that she showed up but he supposes he has her girlfriend to thank for that.
Staring sideways at Yuuji - her thumbs are still rapidly extolling his…virtues and he can feel his phone vibrating continuously.
“Yep! All good! Just saw that one of my favorite Youtubers uploaded a new video!” he says, smiling and standing up straight. “Actually, I think I’m going to head out to go watch it right now!”
Shooting finger guns at the little group, he goes to leave, phone burning a hole in his pocket.
“Wait, sensei! Can you take Yuuji home?” Megumi calls out from the other end of the table.
In a rare moment of honest self reflection, Satoru realizes he doesn’t trust his flimsy self-control enough to do so, no. But he can’t say that.
“Eh? But she’s having so much fun~”
Truthfully, she’s halfway to blackout territory, phone forgotten as she slumps down on the table. Megumi looks at him incredulously.
“We’re going to stay here a little longer and she’s ready to pass out. Come on, you can just teleport her home,” Megumi points out, entirely correct in a way that annoys Satoru to no end.
“Warp,” he corrects, giving him a look that his former student ignored entirely. “But fiiiiine, you’re right. Come along, Yuuji~” he sings, hauling her up and over his shoulder. She makes a concerning groaning sound but he’s not too bothered by her vomiting.
It’s not like it could touch him but he’d rather not have to help her clean the disgusting stuff off, either. Cradling her in his arms and resolutely not looking down, he warps them back to the school.
There had been a time when Satoru would’ve voluntarily had his hands chopped off than to admit that he thought his young student was cute. At first, he’d only felt fiercely protective over the little pink teenager.
With her bright golden eyes, guileless expression and the way she’d trail behind him like a happy puppy - well, he didn’t know much about family but he knew that there was something more than a teacher’s fond affection. It developed into something wildly inappropriate even by his loose standards as she grew up.
It certainly didn't help that she was so casual around him, dressing down during their training in a tight sports bra that did absolutely nothing to hide her perky little nipples. Satoru was a little insulted that no one bothered commending him on what was a truly remarkable show of restraint on his end.
But his little student was all grown up now and, apparently, hot for him. The already fragile wall of resistance was crumbling rapidly.
Finally old enough to have her own small but private suite, he makes the mistake of looking into her face when he sets her down on the couch. They’re incredibly close, her small hands still curled in the fabric of his jacket and-
And Satoru, well.
He really doesn’t possess the ability to say no to himself.
“Do you need help getting to bed?” he asks softly, smoothing her hair back and resting his hand there.
Satoru has to bite his lip at the way her lids fall, staring up at him through thick lashes. Now that he knows the effect it has on her, he can’t unsee it. He curses himself internally for not noticing it sooner.
Master of the outrageously rare Six-Eyes and he still didn’t see this when it was right in front of him? Possibly for years? He almost wants to offer to let Maki give him a good thrashing for being so blind.
“That would be nice,” she whispers low enough that he doesn’t hear any slurring.
He takes a moment to consider all the fun they could have tonight if only she was sober. But he can be patient now that he knows how easy it would be to get her into his bed.
Satoru wants to lure her in slowly, set the bait and let her walk enthusiastically into his trap. Pleasures are greatest in anticipation, after all.
“Anything for you, Yuuji~” he coos, letting the warmth of her flushed face soak into his neck as he carries her off into her bedroom.
“You’re so warm, sensei,” she mutters, snuggling closer. His stomach feels like it’s doing somersaults.
Come to think of it, she really didn’t need to call him that at this point. None of them did, even if she and Megumi tended to let it slip every now and then.
The fact remained that he wasn’t their teacher anymore. Not that he didn’t want to hear her say it again. Maybe in a lusty little moan while tangled in his dark sheets-
“Can you help me take my shoes off?” she asks, blurring the consonants a little, and he blinks, realizing he’d already set her down on the bed and he was just…staring at her. Like a fucking creep.
Satoru nods, throat tight. The black boots rose indecently high up her leg, the zipper required to pull them down on the inside of her thighs. She’s sitting up, swaying in place as she plops down on the edge of the mattress.
Yuuji doesn’t apologize for kicking him in the gut when she sticks her booted leg out for him. Pouting dramatically, he kneels down and slides his hands up the smooth leather. Perfunctorily unzips it with one long pull, tugging it out from under her heel.
“Such a princess when you’re drunk,” he mutters and she shrugs in a ‘what can you do’ kind of way.
The freed foot swings idly, repeatedly thumping into the bed frame. He grabs it, then gets distracted by the delicate arch of her ankle. There’s red indents where the leather dug into the soft skin and he rubs them soothingly.
He has to count to five in his head to keep himself from imagining her covered in marks from something else.
Shibari ropes would leave lovely imprints, as opposed to basic restraints. It wouldn’t be too hard to get his hands on a sturdy pair of handcuffs, either. His hands would work just as well; the memories of sparring remind him that they were able to wrap entirely around her ankles, strong biceps, delicate wrists.
Yuuji makes a soft, surprised noise when he inadvertently starts stroking up her smooth leg, curling around her knee in a vice grip. He mutters a quick apology for basically groping her and rubs strong fingers along her achille’s tendon instead, knowing it’s probably tense from being trapped in the heeled shoes for so long.
“Fuck, that feels so good.”
Satoru shivers a little at the husky quality of her voice. He doesn’t miss the hot flare of cursed energy curling around her form, almost white at the center of her. Blinking a few times to dispel it, the after-image still branded on his lids, he grins up at her.
“I don’t get why you wear these things,” he says honestly, digging his thumbs into the arch of her foot. He licks his lips when she falls back on the bed, an achingly soft moan falling from her parted lips.
“They do great things for my ass, apparently,” she mumbles and Satoru needs a fucking second to deal with that. “I think my ass is just fine as it is but nooo. She ambushed me with these stupid things, yammering on about how they lift my cheeks up or whatever.”
Satoru is furious with himself for not getting Yuuji drunk and loose-lipped years ago. It’s like she doesn’t even notice the blunt stream of consciousness she’s freely giving him.
When he finally gets his shit together and goes to remove the other boot, she pulls it firmly to the side, the tight leather skirt riding up high.
“It’s just- the zipper on this one gets stuck,” she’s murmuring, eyes dark. She leans back on her palms, heel lifting to hook on the wooden edge of the side rail. “You’re gonna need to get a better grip.”
Satoru’s head is full of static, her words sounding robotic and distant as the world fades away.
Yuuji’s sheer pink panties are directly in front of him. A silk bow sits prettily on the edge of the ruffled lace. There’s a very obvious wet patch making the already translucent material practically invisible and he can fucking smell how turned on she is.
Satoru would have to be deaf, blind, dumb, and fucking insensate to not react to this.
“Yuuji,” he says, not recognizing the sound of his voice, “I can see your panties.”