Archive of Our Own

Gojo thought he should probably drink. 

Yes, he should probably gulp a drink. 

The entire bar actually. 

Every single fucking drink in that fucking damned place.

Because he really, really, really needed to find a way to stop looking at her. 

She was sinful. 

She was too sinful. 

His eyes couldn’t take it. His stupid six eyes, hidden behind his stupid sunglasses, were too much for him tonight. He needed to burn the memory of her lowering herself on the dance floor from his brain, otherwise, he would fucking pass out.

Watching her like this, so free and unguarded, it was almost like seeing an entirely different person. 

The way she moved, the way she carried herself, it was like a magnetic pull, and he hated how easily she drew him in.

He was fucking drooling. 

He could feel it.

The stupid saliva trying to go down his stupid chin.

Every sway of her hips, every spin, felt like a deliberate attack on his focus. The lights flickered, but his gaze never wavered from her, as if she was the only thing glowing in the bar. She had always been serious, composed—annoyingly composed. But tonight, under the low light and rhythmic pulse of the music, she seemed different. 

It was hypnotic, maddening even, how easily she took up space in his mind, overshadowing everything else.

A drink would help. 

Maybe a few. 

The way she had lowered herself onto the dance floor, fingers brushing the ground before rising in a fluid motion—it was a vision he would never forget. 

He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to.

His throat had tightened. He was supposed to be the untouchable one. The strongest. 

Right now? He felt like he was losing control, and that terrified him.

For the first time in a long time, Gojo felt something more, something dangerous.

He cursed under his breath and adjusted his sunglasses, as if that would somehow shield him from the truth.

Gojo took another absent-minded sip of his soda. He could hear Suguru speaking beside him, but the words were distant, muffled, as if they were underwater. Nothing around him seemed to matter—nothing except her. 

She was wearing that dress. 

A dangerously short, shimmering purple number that barely covered her thighs. 

The fabric clung to her, catching the light with every movement, the tiny crystals embedded in the material sparkling like stars scattered across a deep sky. The dress was barely held together by thin straps over her shoulders, dipping low at the front and hugging her curves in a way that felt more sinful than anything he had ever laid eyes on. 

And the way it skimmed the top of her thighs, barely covering her ass—it was enough to make his brain short-circuit.

She was dancing with Shoko and Nitta, her movements smooth, confident, as if the music was hers to command. Every sway of her hips was like a magnet pulling his gaze back, no matter how hard he tried to look away. 

Satoru knew he should snap out of it, should try to listen to Suguru or, at the very least, pretend to be interested in anything else going on in the room.

But he couldn’t. 

Not when she was there.

Not when she was there looking like a goddess. 

Even more than usual.

For a moment, he wondered if she had any idea what she was doing to him. 

The way her purplish hair bounced as she spun around.

The way her lips curved into that mischievous smile.

It was all too much. 

Satoru Gojo was sure that Utahime Iori, in that specific dress, would be the death of him.

Truth be told, he had always been obsessed with her. That much was no secret, not to himself, at least. 

It had started years ago, a stupid infatuation that he couldn’t seem to shake, and here he was at 21, still a sucker for her. He thought he’d grow out of it—should’ve grown out of it. But how could he? When she was like that? 

So overwhelming.

How could anyone not be caught up in her orbit?

It was more than just the way she looked, more than the way her body moved in that dress that barely clung to her skin—it was everything about her.

Literally everything.

She was fierce, stubborn as hell. 

And it drove him crazy, in every possible way.

Even when they were younger, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was different from anyone else, someone who could make his pulse race just by walking into a room. 

And now? 

It was worse. 

Far worse. 

The years hadn’t dulled that obsession; they had only sharpened it, turned it into something deeper, something more dangerous.

It didn’t matter what he told himself, how much he tried to play it cool, make it seem like he didn’t care. 

He cared. 

Too much. 

His feelings for her clung to him like an itch under his skin that he couldn’t scratch, and seeing her now, dancing in that ridiculous, sparkly dress, was like throwing gasoline on a fire that had never really burned out.

God, he hated it. 

How powerless he felt around her. 

She had no clue how deeply she had embedded herself into his life, his thoughts. Or maybe she did and just didn’t care. 

Either way, Gojo was trapped. 

He was always going to be trapped, and he knew it.

No matter how much time passed, no matter how hard he tried to forget it, she would always overwhelm him.

For a brief second, he saw her glance over her shoulder at him, and for a moment, he thought he was hallucinating. 

The way her eyes met his, a fleeting connection through the crowd, and then—was that a smirk? 

No, it couldn’t be. 

He must’ve imagined it. 

She would never give him the satisfaction. 

She would never give him the time of the day. 

She was always calling him an impolite brat. And, to be fair, she wasn’t wrong. He was a brat when it came to her. It was just too good, too easy to tease and annoy her. The way she would roll her eyes, the sharp bite of her words whenever he pushed her buttons—it was a thrill, an endless game he loved to play. 

And maybe, just maybe, he kept doing it because it was the only way he could stay close to her. 

Admitting the truth? 

That wasn’t an option. 

Disclosing his real feelings, telling her how much he adored her, how much she had wrapped herself around his every thought—it wasn’t something he could confess.

Not to her. 

Not to himself. 

He wasn’t ready to risk her looking at him with anything other than annoyance.

So, he kept the game going. He teased, he mocked, he pushed every button he could, just to see her react. Because any reaction, even if it was anger, was better than nothing at all. At least when she was mad at him, he had her attention. 

He adjusted his sunglasses, hiding the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. 

She would never know.

She could never know. 

Because the truth? 

The truth would ruin everything.

Suguru clapped his hands in front of his face, pulling him violently out of his daze. Gojo blinked, frowning as his gaze shifted to his best friend, who looked both amused and concerned.

“You good?” Geto asked, raising an eyebrow.

“All fine.” Gojo replied a bit too quickly, straightening up in his seat, trying to play it cool. 

Before Suguru could press him further, the girls returned, and any chance of regaining his composure flew out the window.

Shoko plopped herself down directly onto her boyfriend’s lap without a second thought, making herself comfortable. Nitta took a seat next to them, flashing a grin. 

And then—her.

She sat next to him, and his world tilted again. The table was too small for all of them, so her leg brushed against his, and every ounce of control he thought he had crumbled in an instant. 

His body reacted immediately, and he cursed under his breath, feeling the tension knot in his lower abdomen. 

Fuck.

He was rock hard. 

And she had barely even touched him.

Jesus, he was a weak man. 

Such a weak stupid little man. 

He kept his gaze firmly locked on the group, his hands tense against the armrest, trying desperately to pretend like nothing was wrong. He couldn’t look at her. He wouldn’t look at her. If he did—if he saw her up close, saw her lips curled in that half-smile or her eyes glancing over like they had earlier—he would break. 

And Gojo Satoru did not break. 

Not like this. 

Not for her. 

Not for Utahime.

(Always for Utahime)

The heat from her leg stayed there, pressing into him, setting his nerves on fire. He could hear the conversation around him, Suguru laughing, Shoko teasing him about something, but it all felt distant, like background noise.

All Satoru could focus on was the intoxicating presence beside him and the fact that no matter how strong he was, she had the power to undo him with the smallest, accidental touch.

He noticed when the couple on the table started kissing, completely ignoring the fact that they were sitting right in the middle of the group. Their hands were tangled in each other’s hair, and the rest of the world seemed to disappear for them. Gojo glanced over, raising an eyebrow in amusement, when he heard her voice.

“You two are disgusting!” Utahime protested, wrinkling her nose in mock disgust.

Everyone burst into laughter. Satoru chuckled along with the rest, but his thoughts were far from innocent. If only he could do the same with her. 

The idea of pulling her close, kissing her senseless, was dangerously tempting. 

He could almost imagine it—her lips, soft against his, the way her body would melt into him. 

His heart raced at the thought, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, keeping the stupid usual grin plastered on his face.

Shoko pulled away from Suguru just long enough to complain. “You know, since we’re in Kyoto to celebrate your promotion, we’re stuck staying at Satoru’s apartment. Which means no sex.”

Gojo’s grin widened instantly, ready to tease. “Hey, you’re free to do it in the living room. I’ll stay out of your way.”

His friend groaned, rolling her eyes. “You’re such a freak. We all know you’d just listen in like the weirdo you are.”

He laughed, tossing his head back with a full, unapologetic laugh. “I’m not denying it.”

Suguru snorted beside him, shaking his head, and the group laughed again, but all Gojo could think about was her. 

He risked a quick glance in her direction, wondering if she had any idea how much he wanted her. His fingers twitched with the need to reach out, to feel her close. He kept his cool and tried his best to act like everything was normal.

It wasn’t. 

Not for him. 

Not when she was sitting so close, her leg brushing against his.

Her presence overwhelming his senses in ways he couldn’t even begin to control.

Out of nowhere, Utahime spoke up, her voice cutting through the laughter. "You know, if it’s that big of a deal, you two can stay at my apartment."

Suguru’s face lit up instantly, his grin bright and hopeful. “Really? That’d be perfect!”

But Shoko looked puzzled, her brow furrowed. “Wait, wouldn’t that be a problem? Your apartment’s just a studio. How’s that going to work for the three of us?”

Utahime shrugged, completely casual, as if what she was about to suggest wasn’t about to set his entire world on fire. 

“I can be the one staying at Gojo’s place instead. That way, you two can have my whole studio to yourselves.”

What?

What?

Gojo almost choked. 

He nearly spat out his drink, barely managing to swallow it down as his brain struggled to process what he’d just heard. 

Was she serious?

He blinked at her, utterly shocked. 

She couldn’t be serious. 

No way. 

Utahime was suggesting to stay at his apartment? 

With him? 

There was no way in hell he would survive that. 

His heart pounded in his chest, panic and excitement battling inside him. If she stayed at his place, there was no way he’d be able to control himself. He was already losing his mind just sitting next to her. 

Oh, God. 

That was a terrible, terrible idea.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by the whole situation. “You’re volunteering to stay with Satoru?” She laughed, shaking her head. “You’ve lost it, Uta. Good luck with that.”

He finally found his voice, though it came out strained. “I—I don’t know if that’s a great idea, Utahime.” He said, trying to sound casual, but the tension in his voice betrayed him. “I mean, my place is... well... you know, it’s a mess. I don’t stay often in Kyoto, so I barely clean. You’ll complain about it!”

Utahime waved him off, her tone dismissive. “Oh, please. It’s not that bad.” 

No, no, no. 

This was bad. 

Really bad. 

She had no idea what she was walking into. 

He forced a laugh, trying to act like the thought of her staying with him wasn’t unraveling every last bit of his self-control. 

“Seriously, I don’t think you want to deal with me for a whole night.” He added, a nervous edge creeping into his voice.

She didn’t seem to care. 

She was perfectly calm, perfectly fine, as if this was just a normal, rational suggestion. 

Meanwhile, Satoru was internally spiralling, trying to figure out how he was supposed to survive this.

He felt a brief flicker of relief when Shoko chimed in, shaking her head. “No, no. We can’t accept that, Utahime. You’ll lose your mind. He’ll annoy the hell out of you.”

He was ready to thank Shoko for her sanity, but Utahime wasn’t letting this go. “It’s fine, really. I’ll be fine. You two deserve a proper space to yourselves since you came all this way to celebrate me.”

He could feel the sweat beginning to bead on his back, his pulse racing faster with each second of this conversation. He glanced at Suguru, silently pleading for some backup, but he just smiled, seemingly amused by the whole situation. 

Geto grinned and finally said. “You know what? We accept. It’s perfect.” 

Gojo shot him a look of betrayal. 

Traitor. 

His mouth went dry as Shoko leaned back, crossing her arms, clearly unconvinced.

“Utahime can’t stay with Satoru. He always drives her crazy.” She insisted, still protesting as though she was the only one thinking rationally.

Before Gojo could latch onto that as his escape, Utahime turned towards him. 

And then, just like that, she was close, way too close, her fingers brushing his arm as she pushed up the sleeve of his shirt. 

Satoru’s breath hitched as he felt her skin on his. 

His heart was in his throat.

“Satoru will behave tonight, right?” She asked, her tone light, playful, but there was something behind it that made his entire body tense. 

Gojo gulped, his mind screaming NO, but his mouth, stupid as always, betrayed him. “Y-Yeah.” He stammered, nodding, his throat tight. “I’ll behave.”

She smiled then—innocent, bright, like she hadn’t just set his whole world on fire. “Good!” She let out softly, her voice sweet as sugar. “It’s settled, then.”

His brain practically short-circuited. 

It was not settled. 

Nothing was settled. 

He was pretty sure he was going to combust, sitting there with her next to him, so close, brushing his arm like it was nothing. 

He forced a laugh, but his thoughts were spinning wildly. 

This night was going to kill him.

Nitta started to say. “Utahime-senpai, if you want, you can stay with—”

But Utahime cut her off before she could finish, waving her hand dismissively. “I’m fine, Nitta. We should get going. I’m tired.”

Satoru watched as Suguru raised his eyebrows, clearly catching onto something that Gojo himself was too stunned to fully grasp in the moment. 

His mind raced, utterly incapable of processing the reality that Utahime would be sleeping at his apartment tonight. 

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry as if the weight of the universe had landed on his shoulders. 

Utahime. In his apartment. Tonight. 

And not just any night—tonight, when his body had been on high alert since the moment she walked in, when every fibre of his being was drawn to her more than usual. 

Tonight, when the memory of her in that sinful dress, every brush of her leg against his, had left him teetering on the edge of losing his self-control. 

Oh, God.

He was screwed. 

Utterly screwed. 

His heart pounded louder in his chest as the group slowly began gathering their things to leave. He watched them move, but his mind was elsewhere. He was going to have to fight himself—hard—just to keep it together, just to survive the night without doing something incredibly stupid. 

His best possible behaviour, that’s what she expected, and he had no idea how the hell he was going to manage it.

“Alright, alright.” Suguru said, clearly amused by the situation, giving Gojo a knowing look. “You two have fun.”

Gojo shot him a quick glare, but his best friend just laughed.

Asshole.

As Utahime stood up, brushing her hair out of her face with that casual grace she didn’t even know she had, his pulse quickened again. 

This was real. 

She was really coming back to his apartment.

He felt his heart thud harder in his chest. 

Tonight, of all nights. 

He was about to face the biggest challenge of his life, and it wasn’t some cursed spirit or impossible fight—it was her.

(…)

When they arrived at his penthouse, Satoru felt... weird. 

Not the usual weird he felt around her—the kind where his heart beat faster and his thoughts scattered—but a different kind of weird. 

It was unsettling, seeing her there in his space, covered by his jacket because she’d forgotten her own. It hung loosely on her, the fabric too big, almost swallowing her petite frame. And yet, even in that, she looked effortlessly beautiful.

Too beautiful.

She glanced around, taking in the surroundings, and slipped out of her heels, her bare feet now silent against the hardwood floor. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus.

“This is nice.” She smiled softly at him. “Especially for someone who doesn’t come to Kyoto often.”

He forced a smile back, trying to seem casual, though every muscle in his body felt tense. He nodded. “Yeah, it’s alright.”

The words felt awkward coming out. His mind was racing too fast, his heart still pounding in his chest from the sheer fact that she was here, in his apartment, and that he had to somehow survive the night without giving away how completely and utterly affected he was by her.

There was a beat of silence before he cleared his throat and said. “You can take the bed. It’s fine. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

She shook her head immediately, waving off the suggestion. “No way, I’m not taking your bed. I’ll be fine on the sofa—it’s huge, anyway.”

Gojo opened his mouth to argue, but the words died in his throat when she gave him a soft, almost grateful smile. He couldn’t push her further. He just nodded, feeling strangely defeated by her kindness. 

“Alright.” He said quietly, glancing at the sofa. “The couch is pretty big. You’ll be comfortable.”

But inside, he was struggling. 

She was too comfortable here, and he was anything but. 

Every time she moved, every time she smiled, it felt like his control was slipping bit by bit. He couldn’t keep up the normal exchange, couldn’t tease her the way he usually did. 

Not tonight. 

Not when everything felt so charged. 

As she moved toward the sofa, settling down, Gojo stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do with himself. He needed to get his mind in check—fast.

But she was so damn beautiful.

Not in the obvious, in-your-face kind of way, but in the quiet, natural way that had always captivated him.

He watched the way her hair fell over her shoulders, as she lazily pushed a few strands behind her ear. There was a softness to her tonight that he hadn’t seen before, a quiet ease in the way she moved, barefoot, her body relaxed, her smile tired but genuine. 

It was that smile, the lazy curve of her lips, that hit him the hardest. 

It wasn’t her usual sarcastic smirk, or the tight-lipped expression she wore when she was dealing with his teasing. 

No, this was different—more vulnerable, more real. 

She seemed happy to be there.

What was an utterly stupid idea from his mind.

Her beauty wasn’t just in how she looked, though she was undeniably gorgeous. It was in how she carried herself, how she could be fierce one moment and gentle the next. How she could silence a room with a single sharp remark, but also calm the space around her with a quiet smile like the one she was wearing now.

Gojo’s chest tightened as he took it all in—the way her eyes scanned the room with mild curiosity, the way she lazily tucked her legs under her on the sofa, still wrapped in his jacket.

He was going insane.

She was more than beautiful. 

She was overwhelming. 

Completely out of reach.

His pulse quickened, and for a brief moment, he let himself just look. 

To take in every detail of her face, her tired yet amused expression, the way her lips curled slightly at the corners, like she was keeping a secret he wasn’t privy to. 

God, she was stunning. 

And it made him feel completely and utterly powerless.

Trying to run away from his own mind, Gojo went to his room, trying to give himself a moment to breathe. He grabbed a pillow and some blankets, but as he walked back into the living room, his heart slammed against his ribs.

She was lying down on the sofa. 

The jacket was gone, and all she was left in was that sinful dress. 

His eyes traveled to her legs—her bare legs—and the way the fabric had ridden high until her belly, exposing the red lace of her panties. 

He stopped in his tracks, frozen, his throat tightening painfully. 

She had no idea what she was doing to him. 

Absolutely none.

He swallowed hard, forcing his legs to move again as he approached the sofa. His grip tightened on the pillow and blankets in his hands, his mind screaming at him to look away. 

But he couldn’t. 

Not when she was like this. 

He could feel his pulse in his throat, in his ears, a dull roaring that made it hard to think straight.

He quickly dropped the pillow and blankets on the corner of the sofa, maybe a bit too roughly, and stepped back, desperate to create distance between them. He was barely holding on.

Utahime sat up. “Are you okay?” She asked, her voice gentle, sweet even, in a way that made his chest ache.

Satoru forced a smile, swallowing hard again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just—just really tired.” His voice was strained, and he knew it, but he had to say something before the tension suffocated him. “I need to... uh, get some rest.”

She blinked at him, her expression unreadable for a second before she smiled softly. “Good night, Satoru.” Her voice was impossibly sweet.

“Good night.” He muttered, before practically fleeing the room, retreating to the safety of his bedroom as fast as he could without looking completely ridiculous.

Once he was behind the closed door, he leaned back against it, his breath coming out in shaky bursts. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and he could still feel the heat from the brief moment he’d spent in the same room as her. 

He needed to keep his distance, or he was going to lose it. 

He was already on the edge, barely hanging on to the thin thread of control he had left. 

After a few deep breathes, he slipped out of his clothes quickly, barely thinking about it, his body still buzzing. Normally, he’d just throw on a pair of fresh boxers and call it a night, but not today. He grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt, pulling them on as if they might somehow act as armour, something to keep him from completely unraveling. 

He couldn’t even feel comfortable in his own skin, let alone his usual routine. 

What if she needed something? 

He couldn’t risk it—couldn’t risk walking around half-naked with her so close, so tempting. 

He already felt too raw, too exposed.

As he threw himself onto the bed, he cursed himself silently. He should’ve taken a cold shower the second they got back. Hell, he should’ve thrown himself into an ice bath to keep his thoughts in check. Anything to calm down the overwhelming heat in his body, the way his skin felt too tight, too alive.

His hand dragged across his face as he stared up at the ceiling, frustration gnawing at him. It was going to be impossible to fall asleep like this, not when his mind kept replaying every little detail of the night—her smile, the way she looked in his jacket, the way her legs looked as she lay on his sofa, practically burning a permanent image into his brain.

There was no way he was getting through this without suffering. 

(…)

A few minutes had passed, and Gojo was still tossing and turning in bed, trying to get comfortable, when he suddenly heard a knock on his door. His heart skipped a beat, and he sat up quickly, blinking in confusion.

He got up, padding to the door, and when he opened it, there she was—Utahime. 

She stood there, holding something small in her hand.

“Do you have batteries?” She asked casually, as if it was the most normal request in the world.

He blinked, trying to process her question. “Batteries?” He repeated, clearly confused. “What do you need batteries for?”

Utahime sighed softly, looking completely comfortable. 

“My vibrator’s dead, and I need to cum before sleep.”

Gojo froze. 

The words hit him like a freight train, and he gasped, feeling his face instantly heat up. 

His cheeks flushed a deep red, and for once, he had no witty comeback, no teasing remark. 

His mind went blank. 

What the hell was he supposed to say to that?

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

He was already at wit’s ends!

“B-Batteries?” He stammered again, utterly flustered, his heart now hammering against his chest.

“Yes, Satoru.” She said, this time with a hint of impatience. “Do you have any or not?”

Gojo swallowed hard, his throat dry, and quickly turned back into his room, heading straight for his nightstand. His hands fumbled as he opened the drawer, desperately trying to keep himself from falling apart. He grabbed the first set of batteries he could find—two AA’s—and rushed back to her.

“Here.” He said, his voice strained, practically shoving the batteries into her hand without meeting her eyes. 

Utahime smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and then—just to make it worse—she stuck her tongue out at him playfully. 

“Thanks, Satoru.” She said sweetly, before turning around and walking back toward the living room, as if she hadn’t just left him standing there, stunned and flushed, his mind in complete chaos.

Gojo watched her go, feeling like he was caught in some bizarre dream. 

The door clicked shut, and he collapsed back against it, running a shaky hand through his hair. 

He didn’t think it was possible, but somehow, the night had just gotten infinitely harder.

What the hell did she event meant?

It could only be a prank, right?

Right.

Obviously.

Utahime was definitely not about to masturbate in his sofa.

That was impossible.

But it was possible.

She was holding the damn thing in her hand.

He stood there for a moment, staring at nothing, trying to process what had just happened. Then, with a groan, he let his body fall onto the bed, face-first into his pillow. 

His mind raced, replaying Utahime's words over and over. 

There was no way she said that to him sober. She had to be drunk, right? No way would she be that blunt otherwise. She was always guarded, always composed around him. But the way she had stood there, casually asking for batteries for her vibrator like it was the most normal thing in the world—it rattled him to his core.

Satoru groaned again, hitting his forehead with the palm of his hand. 

God, was she actually masturbating on his sofa right now?

The thought sent a shockwave through his body, making it harder to focus, harder to breathe.

He smacked his forehead again, harder this time, trying to knock some sense into himself. 

No, no, no. I need to behave, he muttered to himself, his voice muffled by the pillow. She’s probably drunk. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.

He rolled over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, hands clenched at his sides. He had to control himself. He had to be the responsible one here, no matter how insane the situation had just gotten. Utahime—the same Utahime who called him a brat, who got frustrated with his teasing—was probably out there, trying to get herself off on his sofa. 

The image alone made his blood boil, but he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists harder.

And then he heard it. 

That small, unmistakable buzzing sound coming from the living room. 

His breath caught in his throat. 

Fuck.

Millions fucks.

Jesus.

Buda.

All the religions, please, someone had to save him right now.

His mind screamed at him to stay put, to ignore it, to pretend he hadn’t heard anything—but his body wasn’t listening.

Before he could stop himself, he was already moving, slipping out of bed and heading toward the door. He cracked it open just slightly, praying the creak wouldn’t give him away. The soft noise of the vibrator echoed faintly through the apartment, and he swallowed hard. 

From where he stood, the back of the sofa blocked his view. He couldn’t see her, not directly. But then his eyes caught something—her reflection on the black screen of his TV.

Fuck.

He was so fucking doomed.

She was seated on the sofa, her legs spread, her panties discarded carelessly on the floor beside her. The vibrator was pressed between her thighs, nestled against her, and the sight of it—of her—made his heart pound so hard he thought it might break through his chest. 

His eyes widened, and for a split second, he considered slamming the door shut, locking himself in his room until morning.

But he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t look away.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—her hand and the vibrator covered her most intimate parts, sparing him from completely losing it. But the image burned into his brain was enough to drive him insane. The way she was sitting there, her back arching slightly, her lips parted in a silent gasp, made every muscle in his body tense.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry, every rational thought slipping further away. 

The world felt like it had narrowed down to this one moment, to the quiet buzz and the image of her reflection in the TV screen.

I shouldn’t be watching this. I shouldn’t be here.

But he didn’t move. 

He couldn’t. 

His pulse raced, his breathing shallow as he stood frozen in the doorway, unable to tear his gaze away. Every part of him screamed for control, but his body was betraying him, his eyes locked on her as she pleasured herself, completely unaware of the fact that he was there, watching.

Fuck.

This was the worst idea ever. 

And yet, he couldn’t stop. 

His eyes remained glued to the reflection in the TV screen, his breath coming in shallow, shaky bursts. 

He could see Utahime’s body moving slightly on the sofa, her legs still spread wide, one hand gripping the cushion beneath her while the other guided the vibrator in slow, deliberate motions between her thighs.

The reflection revealed the subtle rise and fall of her chest as her breathing quickened, the vibrator still pressed firmly against her as she lost herself in the moment. Her body was trembling now, barely, but enough for Satoru to notice. Her toes curled against the fabric of the sofa, and the quiet hum of the toy filled the silence, mingling with her audible gasps. 

God.

Oh, God.

He had to run away.

Now.

Suddenly, his hand moved on its own, closing the door as quietly as he could, though his movements were shaky. His heart was still pounding, and his mind felt hazy, like he was the one who had just had too much to drink. 

He stumbled back to his bed, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration swirling inside him. He shouldn’t have watched. 

He knew that. 

Now the image of her was burned into his mind.

He cursed under his breath, his thoughts spiralling. He could still hear the faint buzzing sound, even though it was muffled now behind the closed door. His whole body felt tense, like he was holding onto something he couldn’t release, and he was painfully aware of the hardness straining against his sweatpants. 

Satoru flopped back onto the bed, dragging his hands over his face, as if he could somehow erase the memory of what he had just seen. 

But it wasn’t working. 

The vision of Utahime—her legs open, her body arching, her breathless expression—wasn’t going anywhere. 

Fucking hell.

He finally turned off all the lights, plunging the room into darkness, hoping it would help him calm down. 

But it didn’t. 

His body was still on edge, his thoughts racing, and he kept replaying the scene over and over in his head.

I need to sleep, he told himself, clenching his eyes shut as he sank deeper into the mattress. 

I need to forget this. Just... sleep.

His whole body was still wired, and no matter how much he promised himself he’d fall asleep, he knew it was going to be impossible.

(…)

A few minutes later, a knock on the door startled Gojo again, pulling him violently out of the chaotic thoughts he had been desperately trying to bury. 

Oh, fuck.

Not again.

He sat up quickly, his heart pounding, praying that the thick fabric of his sweatpants hid his... situation well enough. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself as best he could, before getting up and opening the door.

And there she was. 

Utahime stood on the other side, looking even messier than before. 

Her hair was slightly disheveled and her cheeks were flushed. Of course, she’d been... doing what she was doing just moments ago. 

He bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to let his thoughts spiral again. He shook his head quickly, trying to clear it, and forced a smile.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound as tense as he felt.

Utahime, in her usual blunt way, looked him straight in the eye and asked, “Do you mind if I watch porn on your TV?”

Fucking hell.

Fucking hell.

Was this purgatory or something?

Was he supposed to cream himself as a damn teenager?

What the fuck?

He felt his jaw drop. His brain completely stalled, unable to process what she had just said.

She repeated her question, as if asking something so outrageous was completely normal. 

“Can I watch porn on your TV, or do you mind?”

His mouth moved before his brain could catch up. “Why?” The word just slipped out, and immediately he regretted it.

She shrugged, completely unfazed by his reaction. “I can’t sleep, but I didn’t want to watch it without asking. It’s your apartment, after all.”

He blinked again, trying to keep himself from completely unraveling. She had asked so casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world to ask for permission to watch porn. His pulse quickened again, and he struggled to keep his composure.

He nodded slowly, swallowing hard. “Uh... yeah, sure. It’s fine.”

Utahime smiled, seemingly satisfied with his answer. “Thanks.” She said, then turned around and walked away, leaving him standing there, stunned all over again. 

Gojo closed the door as fast as he could, the thud of it shutting almost too loud. His heart was racing, pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat, and he had no idea how he was supposed to calm down.

Behave, Satoru.

Just behave.

You can do it.

You can fucking do it.

There was no way Utahime was acting like this sober—she had to be drunk. That was the only logical explanation. 

His mind spun as he tried to make sense of the night, but nothing made sense anymore. He felt like he was caught in some kind of fever dream he couldn’t wake up from.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself to lie back down and force himself to sleep. But before he could settle, he heard it—the unmistakable sound of the TV.

And then, the moans.

Soft at first, but unmistakable, followed by the wet, rhythmic sound of skin slapping against skin. 

He froze, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress, the blood rushing to his face again. 

His whole body tensed, and he could feel the heat rising beneath his skin. 

Oh, God.

He bit down hard on his bottom lip, trying to ignore it, trying to pretend he couldn’t hear what was happening just outside his room. 

It was a scene straight out of a nightmare for him, because he knew exactly what it was doing to his already fragile self-control.

He needed a fucking cold shower.

An ice bath.

Whatever he could manage to get. 

His body was already wound tight, and now every noise, every second of it, was pushing him further to the edge.

He had to keep himself together. 

He had to.

(…)

Not even twenty minutes had passed when Satoru heard another knock on his door. 

He groaned softly, running a hand down his face before getting up, wondering what could possibly be next. 

When he opened the door, his breath caught in his throat, and he almost stumbled backward in shock.

There she was, standing in front of him in nothing but her underwear. 

His brain nearly short-circuited. 

Her bra and panties—both red lace, of fucking course—hugged her body in a way that felt entirely too intimate for him to handle. Gojo felt his pulse spike, his heart racing faster than before, he didn’t know where to look. His gaze darted between her face and the floor, desperately trying to keep his eyes off her nearly bare body.

Utahime tilted her head slightly, a soft smile on her lips. 

“Is everything okay?” She asked, her tone casual, as if standing half-naked in front of him was no big deal.

He swallowed hard, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks again. He forced a smile, though his mind was in complete chaos. “Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I was just... startled.” He managed to say, trying to keep his voice steady despite the fact that he was internally screaming. 

“Were you sleeping?”

“No, not at all.”

Fuck.

Giving himself away like that.

Fucking stupid boy.

He was doing his best to look at her face, to focus on anything other than the way her body looked in that lingerie. 

The same body he'd been trying to stop thinking about since she arrived. 

God, why is she doing this to me?

Clearing his throat, he quickly added. “Do you... uh, want a t-shirt to sleep in?”

Utahime smiled brightly, her eyes lighting up, and nodded. “Yes, please!” She said, her voice sweet, almost innocent.

I’m such a bastard, Satoru thought as he hurried over to his dresser, grabbing a clean t-shirt. His mind was swimming with impure thoughts, and he hated himself for it. She was just standing there, being polite, and here he was, struggling to keep his composure. 

He pulled out one of his larger shirts, something that would cover her properly, and handed it to her without meeting her eyes.

“Here.” he muttered, trying not to sound as flustered as he felt. 

She took the shirt with a grateful smile, her fingers brushing against his, and Gojo had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting. He stepped back quickly, giving her space, and prayed she didn’t notice how rattled he was.

“Satoru, do you have another pillow?”

He blinked, turning back to face her. “Another pillow?” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to buy himself a second to think straight. “What’s wrong with the one I gave you?”

Utahime shrugged, her expression so casual it threw him off completely. “It’s not hard enough.”

His mind instantly went somewhere it shouldn’t, and he quickly pushed those thoughts away. 

He was already barely hanging on by a thread. 

He cleared his throat, trying to keep it together. “Uh, you can take mine, then. It’s, uh, firmer.”

He walked over to his bed, grabbed his own pillow, and handed it to her, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. His brain was still reeling from everything she had said and done tonight, and he just needed the night to be over.

But just as he was about to close the door and retreat into his space, Utahime murdered him in cold blood once again. 

“I think I’ll manage to dry hump with this one, thanks.”

That’s it.

Satoru Gojo was in purgatory and nobody had fucking warned him.

It was the only explanation for what was happening to him.

He almost slipped, his body jerking at her words. 

He tried to speak, but his voice came out in a choked gasp, his mind racing.

He whipped around, his mouth open to ask if he had heard her correctly, but she was already gone, having quietly closed his bedroom door behind her. 

The sound of it clicking shut was like the final punctuation to a sentence he couldn’t even begin to process.

Gojo just stood there, stunned, his hand still on the doorframe, his brain struggling to keep up with what just happened. He blinked several times, replaying the conversation in his head, and each time it only made things worse. 

Dry hump.

In his pillow.

In his living room.

This had to be a dream—a weird, insane dream. 

There was no way Utahime had just said that to him, right?

No fucking way.

But she had. 

And now she was in his living room, probably doing who-knew-what with his pillow. 

This time, Satoru couldn’t bring himself to crawl back into bed. The tension in his body was unbearable, and the walls of his room felt like they were closing in on him. He began pacing, running a hand through his hair over and over again, trying desperately to control the urges that were clawing at him from the inside. 

He couldn’t get her words out of his head or the image of her standing in his doorway in her underwear.

He clenched his fists, biting back a groan of frustration.

And then, before he could even gather his thoughts, there it was—a faint knock on the door. 

Again.

Gojo froze, his pulse skyrocketing as if his body already knew what was coming.

He moved too quickly, yanking the door open, his heart pounding in his ears. And there she was again—Utahime. 

This time, she was wearing his t-shirt, her pouty expression making his stomach twist in ways he didn’t want to admit. The oversized shirt hung loosely on her, but the way it clung to her in places made him feel dizzy.

Her voice snapped him out of his trance. 

“The pillow isn’t nice enough.” She complained, her lips forming a perfect pout, like she was some sort of angel who didn’t just make his life a living hell for the past few hours.

He stood there, his throat dry, his voice barely working. “I… I don’t have another one.” He managed to choke out, feeling utterly helpless.

Behave, you bastard.

Just behave.

Without warning, she moved to step inside his room, slipping past him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Gojo could feel the sweat trailing down his back, his pulse racing uncontrollably.

Oh, no.

No, no, fucking no.

He stiffened, watching her every move as she casually entered his space, completely oblivious to the fact that he was seconds away from losing the last bit of control he had left.

She looked around, her fingers lightly brushing against his shelves before she turned back to him, still wearing that innocent expression, as if this was all completely normal.

He swallowed hard, his back pressed against the doorframe as he tried to keep his distance. “Utahime… you can’t just…” His voice trailed off, weak, because nothing about this situation was normal.

She ignored him. “Your room is quite nice.” But all he could think was that she was quite nice—too nice, too stunning, too overwhelming.

He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to figure out what to say or do. He felt himself walking until the bottom of the bed, completely absorbed by her image.

But then she sat on his bed, and his heart skipped a beat. His chest tightened, and then, without warning, she shifted, getting on all fours like it was nothing, her movements slow and deliberate.

“I found something hard to dry hump.” She said with a playful smirk, her voice low, sending a shock through his system.

What the hell was she doing?

Was this a test?

She was drunk.

It was the only fucking explanation.

Oh, God.

He blinked, his brain trying and failing to process her words. “What?” He barely managed to whisper, his voice cracking.

And then, she started crawling towards him, her movements smooth and predatory, until she was right in front of him, her fingers lightly grazing his thigh. 

The touch sent electricity through his body, and he gulped, feeling his pulse throb in his ears. 

He was frozen, trapped in this moment, and all he could feel was the heat radiating off her touch.

“Utahime… stop.” He stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re drunk.” He was desperate to cling to any reason, any excuse to stop this before it spiralled further out of control.

He couldn’t take advantage of her.

He wouldn’t.

But she just laughed softly, pushing him down to sit on the edge of the bed, her hands firm yet casual, as if they’d done this a thousand times before. 

“I only had one beer, Satoru.” She let out, her tone teasing. “I’m not drunk.”

His breath hitched. 

His mind was in complete chaos, but his body was betraying him, reacting to her proximity, to her touch. 

“Utahime, you need to stop.” He repeated, his voice strained, but she wasn’t listening.

Instead, she leaned closer, her lips brushing near his ear as she whispered. “I just need to get off on your thigh.”

He felt his entire body tense as if struck by lightning. 

She wasn’t joking. 

She was dead serious, and in that moment, he didn’t know how to handle it. 

He swallowed hard, feeling every rational thought slip from his grasp as Utahime straddled his thigh, pressing her body flush against his.

Everything inside him tilted. 

The second she began to move, his breath caught in his throat. 

He couldn’t believe this was real—couldn’t believe what was happening. 

His mind blanked as she rocked her hips against him, the slow drag of her body at first teasing, then growing in intensity with each movement. 

He felt her heat through the thin fabric of his sweatpants, and the quickening rhythm of her breath only stoked the fire building in his chest. Satoru’s vision blurred, his focus teetering on the edge of control. 

She wasn’t wearing panties.

He could feel her lips on his tight.

She had removed her panties when she put his t-shirt.

Fucking hell.

I’m dreaming, he told himself, but every press of her body, every firm grip of her fingers on his shoulders was far too real. 

He felt intoxicated. 

By her.

By the way she was using him, her movements becoming more frantic, more desperate as she chased her own release.

He couldn’t breathe. 

He definitely wasn’t breathing, he was sure.

He should turn on his infinity.

Fuck it, he didn’t want that.

He wanted her.

He fucking wanted her to cum on his tight.

His pulse pounded relentlessly in his ears, drowning out everything except the sensation of her moving against him. Gojo fought to stay grounded as his entire world shifted beneath him.

“Utahime.” He managed to choke out, his voice strained and barely audible, while grabbing her waist to ground and help her move.

She didn’t even slow down. 

She was lost in her own pleasure, oblivious to his struggle for control.

Her pace quickened, and Satoru could feel her body tremble against his, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. Every shift of her hips sent jolts of sensation through him, his senses overwhelmed by her closeness, his cock suffering so damn more than ever before. 

The friction between them was maddening, and no matter how hard he tried to focus, he couldn’t. 

He was lost in the moment with her.

And then, she came.

Her body tensed, a sharp moan escaping her lips as she stilled, riding the wave of her release. 

Her trembling slowed, but her warmth remained, pressed firmly against him.

Gojo sat there, frozen, his mind a chaotic mess of disbelief and desire. He couldn’t process what had just happened, couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that she had just come apart in his arms. 

He had no words, nothing to say, even if he could manage to speak.

And then she asked, her voice soft yet laced with challenge. “Are you going to finally fuck me now?”

Oh.

Oh.

Before he could respond, Utahime leaned in closer, her breath hot against his ear. “I came here because I need you to fuck me stupid, Satoru. So, what’s it going to be? Are you going to be a man for me, or do I need to keep playing games?” 

She moved away, holding his face between her hands, her fingers brushing his lips.

“Satoru” She almost moaned. “Behave tonight by fucking me.”

Her words hit him like a hammer, shattering the last remnants of his control.

He was fucking doomed.

Fuck it.

Satoru couldn’t hold back anymore. 

The moment her words left her lips, something inside him snapped. 

He leaned forward and kissed her roughly, his lips crashing into hers with a desperate need he could no longer contain. Utahime responded instantly, her hands tangling in his hair as she kissed him back just as fiercely, as if she'd been waiting for this just as much as he had.

That wasn’t possible but he could fool himself.

His hands roamed everywhere he could touch—her waist, her back, her thighs. 

He couldn't get enough of her. 

Every inch of her body felt like fire beneath his fingertips, and it only fuelled the intensity between them. Utahime stayed seated on his lap, her hips moving against him, teasing, provoking him further, each subtle grind sending electricity through his body.

She pulled back just slightly, a wicked glint in her eyes as she whispered, her breath hot against his skin, “You’ve wanted this for so long, haven’t you, Satoru? I can feel how hard you are. Is this what you imagined?”

Her voice was laced with sultry challenge, each word pushing him closer to the edge. 

Fuck, who was this Utahime?

Fucking hell, she was even more perfect than he had ever thought. 

He was going mad. 

Before she could say more, he kissed her again, harder this time, using his lips to shut her up. They tumbled backward, their lips still locked in a heated frenzy, falling onto the bed. He landed on top of her, his hands still grasping at her body, needing to feel more of her.

The kiss deepened, both of them lost in it, their breaths mingling, hearts pounding in unison. His body pressed against hers, the heat between them almost unbearable.

She smirked against his lips, shifting beneath him, her body arching up to meet his. “Come on, Satoru.” She breathed, her words teasing and breathless. “I know you can’t wait any longer.” 

Fucking hell.

He growled again, his mouth finding hers once more as he silenced her with another deep, urgent kiss. 

He was losing it, and he didn’t care. 

All that mattered now was her.

His lips trailed away from hers, moving down to her neck, where he kissed her with rough, hungry intent. Her breath hitched, but she didn't stop her teasing. 

She moved slightly and removed his t-shirt from her body, making him groan. She was only wearing a bra.

She murmured, her voice low, filled with heat. “I bet you're desperate now, aren't you?”

Her words only fuelled the fire burning inside him. 

His hands moved with a kind of reckless need, tracing the curve of her body as his mouth traveled lower, kissing a trail along her collarbone, down to her breasts. He tugged at her bra, pulling it down enough to expose her, and he didn't waste a second. His lips latched onto her nipple, sucking and teasing with his tongue.

Utahime moaned softly, her back arching as he worked, but she kept talking, her voice sultry and challenging. “I think you can still do better, baby.”

Satoru groaned against her skin, feeling like he was on the edge of madness. 

Every word, every sound she made sent him further into this intoxicating haze. His hand slid to her other breast, kneading and teasing as his mouth continued its assault, his teeth grazing her sensitive skin just enough to make her squirm beneath him.

“You like it, don’t you?” She whispered, her fingers digging into his hair, pulling him closer.

He felt like he was drowning in her, in the heat of her skin, the way her body responded to him. 

His heart was pounding, and the sound of her voice—so sultry, so commanding—was pushing him past the point of control. 

Utahime had him completely wrapped around her finger, and he knew it, but he didn’t care. 

All that mattered was the way she felt, the way she sounded, the way his name fell from her lips in a breathless taunt.

Her hips were now shifting beneath him, making it impossible for him to think straight. “I want you to lose control.”

Gojo’s lips trailed lower, his body moving on instinct now, fuelled by the heat of Utahime’s teasing words and the overwhelming need consuming him. 

He kissed his way down her stomach, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he pressed his fingers in her tights. 

He didn’t waste a second. 

He couldn’t.

Not anymore.

His mouth descended on her cunt, his tongue flicking out to taste her, and the instant he did, Utahime let out a moan, her fingers tangling in his hair, urging him closer. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her in place as he worked, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes at first, tasting every inch of her, feeling the way she trembled under his touch, the wetness in her slit.

Utahime shifted, her hips rolling as she started riding his face, taking control of the pace. 

Fucking hell.

She was perfect.

His grip on her thighs tightened, his fingers digging into her soft skin as she moved against him, her breath quickening with every flick of his tongue. 

“You're so good at this.” She moaned, her voice husky.

Gojo’s chest tightened at her words, a deep hunger stirring inside him as he pushed himself further. 

“Make me come again.”

His tongue moved faster, more urgently, his lips and mouth working together in rhythm as she rode him, her movements growing more desperate with every passing second.

Her moans filled the room, her back arching as she ground down against him, her fingers gripping his hair tighter, pulling him closer. 

Gojo’s hands moved from her hips to her thighs, and without warning, he slapped the outside of one, the sound sharp and sudden.

She gasped, her body jerking at the sensation, but she didn’t stop. She moaned louder, her voice dripping with both surprise and pleasure. “Fuck, Satoru… do that again.”

He smirked against her, his heart pounding as he obliged, slapping her other thigh this time, harder. Her moans grew louder, her body trembling as she rode his face, lost in the intensity of the moment.

He felt her tense, her muscles tightening beneath his grip as she neared her climax. He doubled down, his tongue and lips working her relentlessly, determined to push her over the edge.

And then, with a final breathless moan, she came, her body shaking as she stilled above him. Her thighs quivered in his hands as her release washed over her, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. 

But he didn’t stop, his mouth continuing to work her, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until she finally collapsed against him, completely spent.

He licked her completely.

She tasted so fucking good.

Utahime’s breathless laughter broke the silence, her body still quaking from the intensity of her release.

“I knew you’d be good at this.”

Gojo pulled back just enough to look at her, his breathing still uneven, his mind buzzing from what had just happened. He licked his lips, tasting her still on his tongue, feeling both dirty and incredibly alive. 

He smirked up at her, his voice teasing but low. “You’re really bossy today, you know that?”

She met his gaze, her lips curling into a playful smirk as she leaned down, her breath warm against his ear. “I am your senpai, after all.”

Before he could respond, she kissed him, deep and slow, her mouth claiming his as if she was marking her territory.

He’d never felt anything like it—so dirty, yet so intoxicating.

Satoru let out a low groan into the kiss, his body responding to her closeness, the way she controlled the moment, making him feel like fucking incredible. His hands found her waist again, pulling her closer, but before he could take control, Utahime shifted, moving with sudden grace.

In one smooth motion, she flipped their positions, settling on top of him. Gojo felt the world spin for a moment, his body tense beneath her as she straddled him, her thighs pressing against his hips. Her eyes gleamed with confidence, her smirk widening as she sat above him, looking down at him like she had all the power in the world.

She was right. 

She did.

He could feel the anticipation building, a fine sheen of sweat already forming on his skin.

Utahime pouted, her expression softening as she looked down at him sweetly, though the teasing edge in her voice was unmistakable. 

“I want you to eat me more, Satoru.”

God, he was in heaven.

This was heaven.

She had him completely under her spell, and every word, every move she made was pushing him closer to the edge of madness.

Before he could even respond, she shifted again, turning around and moving up her body until she was seated on his face, her pussy pressing against his lips. Without thinking, Gojo’s hands gripped her thighs, and he immediately complied, his tongue sliding along her slit, tasting her once more. The breathless moan she let out above him fuelled him, and he licked her again, his mouth working to bring her even more pleasure.

But then he felt it—her body bending over his, the position change of her cunt on him, his sweatpants and boxers going down on his waist, the sudden heat of her mouth on his cock without any warning.

Oh.

Oh.

Gojo’s entire body jerked in response, a deep, guttural groan escaping him as her lips wrapped around him. The sensation was almost too much to handle—the softness of her mouth, the way her tongue swirled around the tip of his cock, sent him spiralling. 

He was lost, completely overwhelmed by the combination of her pussy on his face and her mouth on his cock.

He tried to focus, to keep eating her out, but the way she was sucking him, the way her head bobbed with a steady rhythm—it was driving him insane. His senses were overloaded, the pleasure blurring the lines between coherent thought and pure, primal need. 

Every flick of her tongue, every moan that escaped her lips as she continued, made him lose control bit by bit.

His hands tightened on her thighs as he tried to keep his focus, his tongue moving more desperately now, matching the rhythm of her movements. But it was getting harder—he was on the verge of losing it completely, her mouth working him over in ways that had him seeing stars.

They continued in their fevered rhythm, lost in the intensity of the moment, bodies moving in sync as the pleasure built higher and higher. 

Her moans grew louder, vibrating through her body as she ground against his face, her orgasm inching closer.

She was about to come again because of him.

God, he had never felt stronger.

He could feel her muscles tense, her thighs quivering around him, and then—she came. A soft, breathless cry escaped her lips, her body trembling above him as her release hit. Gojo’s face was wet with her pleasure, the sensation driving him mad as he continued to lick her through the waves of her orgasm.

He suddenly felt the overwhelming need building in his own body. 

He grunted, pulling his mouth away for a brief moment, his voice rough and strained. “Utahime… you need to stop. I’m about to…Fuck. Hime, stop.”

But instead of easing up, she laughed softly, her breath warm against his cock. “What’s the matter, Satoru? Can’t handle it? Can’t you be hard again after?”

Her words were a challenge, and he groaned in response, barely able to think straight. “Fuck, with you… of course.” He managed to say, his voice raw with desperation.

She laughed again, the sound sweet and wicked all at once, and instead of stopping, she doubled down. Her mouth worked him harder, sucking him deeper until he could feel himself hitting the back of her throat. She didn’t hesitate, taking him fully, her throat tightening around him as she deepthroated him completely.

Gojo’s breath hitched, his entire body tense, on the verge of unraveling. The wetness from her orgasm was still on his face, mixing with the slick heat of her body, and the combination of sensations was too much. 

He gripped her thighs harder, his hips bucking slightly as her mouth continued to work him over.

“Utahime… fuck…” He groaned, unable to hold back any longer.

His body tensed as he released ropes of cum into her mouth, the pleasure crashing over him like a wave. He felt her lips tighten around him, swallowing every drop as he trembled beneath her.

God.

God no, Goddess.

She was a Goddess.

He would forever be devoted to her.

For a few moments, all he could do was breathe, his body still shaking from the intensity of it all. Utahime finally pulled away, a satisfied smirk on her lips as she turned and looked down at him, clearly pleased with herself.

He lay there, completely spent, his chest heaving as he tried to recover.

Satoru couldn't believe it. 

He was still hard, his body pulsing with raw need. 

Every second with Utahime had him spiralling further out of control. 

He had to take charge, had to remind himself of who he was before he completely lost it.

Without a word, he sat up on the bed and pulled her to turn and seat on his lap, his hands gripping her waist tightly. His eyes blazed as he looked up at her, his voice rough with desire. 

“I never knew you were such a dirty slut.” He growled, watching her closely, wanting to see how she’d respond.

Utahime pouted, her lips softening into a mock sadness, but there was a glint of mischief in her. “I didn’t know either… until tonight.” She whispered, her words sending another jolt through his body. 

Her tone was playful, teasing, and it only made him want her more.

Gojo’s grip tightened on her hips as he gazed at her, completely dazzled by the way she looked, by the way her hair fell messily around her face, and how her skin flushed from everything they had done. 

She was a sight—wild and unrestrained—and he couldn't get enough.

Utahime leaned closer, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered. “It’s because of you, Satoru. The way you were looking at me at the club... The way your arms looked in that white shirt… How fucking hot you always look with your stupid sunglasses and your ruffled hair.”

Her lips trailed down to his neck, kissing him softly, her words like gasoline on the fire already raging inside him. Gojo groaned, his head tilting back as her kisses sent shivers down his spine. 

“You do this to me.”

Every touch, every word from her was making him lose whatever restraint he had left.

“You make me want to act like a cheap whore.”

His heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel her hips pressing down against his hardness, teasing him even further. He gritted his teeth, his voice low and strained. “You’re killing me.” He murmured, his fingers digging into her flesh as she continued to kiss his neck, making him ache for more.

Utahime just smiled against his skin, a soft laugh escaping her. She moved her hips slightly, rubbing herself against him, and he groaned again, his body trembling with how hard he was.

He was about to lose it again completely, and she knew it.

He sunk his teeth into Utahime’s neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Her moan, soft and breathless, sent a surge of heat through him, and for a moment, he almost creamed himself.

He wanted nothing more than to take her right then and there, but he had other plans first.

“Go get that vibrator of yours…” He growled spoke her skin, his voice low and commanding. “I’m going to make you cum again before I fuck you properly.”

Utahime pulled away and smiled wickedly, her eyes gleaming. 

Without hesitation, she slipped off his lap and practically ran to the living room, eager to follow his instructions. 

As soon as she disappeared from sight, Satoru leaned back against the bed, trying to steady his breathing, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

He needed control, needed to steady himself, or he’d be done before they even began.

I need to fuck her right, to make her feel it.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second.

She can never leave me again. 

But then he heard her footsteps and when he opened his eyes, every bit of self-control he’d tried to muster evaporated.

Utahime stood in the doorway, that sinful dress hugging her curves, the fabric glimmering against her skin. She was holding the vibrator in her hand, her expression playful and daring, but what really made his heart stop was what she said next.

“I’m sure you wanted to fuck me in this dress, didn’t you?”

His entire body tensed, his control unraveling as he stared at her, his mind going blank. 

She was right—he had been obsessed with that dress from the moment he laid eyes on her tonight, and seeing her in it now, holding the vibrator with that knowing smirk, was enough to make him feel powerless.

He let out a shaky laugh, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he gazed at her, unable to look away.  “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

She tilted her head, a smile playing on her lips as she approached, slow and deliberate. “Oh, I think I do…” She teased, running the vibrator lightly over her thigh as she got closer. 

“I’m yours, Satoru. So, what are you going to do about it?”

He was going to fucking ruin her.

Utahime climbed onto the bed, settling herself against the headboard, her legs spread wide open as she turned on the vibrator with a wicked grin. The sound of it buzzing started and she wasted no time, pressing it between her legs, her body shuddering as the vibrations hit her sensitive spot. The sinful dress she was wearing slipped down, revealing the top of her breasts as she started pleasuring herself, her moans soft but growing with intensity.

Gojo, now sitting on his knees in front of her, couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

His breath hitched as he watched her move, the sex toy teasing her in slow, deliberate circles. 

Her head tilting back slightly, lips parted as moans escaped her.

He gripped himself, starting to pump his cock as he watched her, the sight of her legs wide open, her body arching into the vibrations, making him throb painfully. His strokes matched the rhythm of her movements, and he let out a low groan, barely able to contain himself.

“God, look at you.” She panted, her eyes half-lidded as she gazed at him, her voice dripping with heat. “You're so fucking hard just watching me.”

Satoru grunted in response, his grip tightening around his shaft, his strokes becoming more desperate as he watched the way her body reacted to the vibrator. 

Every moan, every shift of her hips was driving him mad.

“You like it, don’t you?” She purred. “Watching me get off like this, knowing I’m making myself cum while you just sit there… so needy, Satoru. You can't even control yourself.”

Her dirty words were pushing him closer to the edge, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he pumped himself harder, his eyes locked on the way she moved the vibrator between her thighs. 

Utahime moaned louder, her hips grinding against the toy, her back arching as she brought herself closer to the brink.

Her voice breathy as she toyed with him. 

“You want to fuck me so bad, but look at you… you’re not even touching me, and you’re already losing it.”

Fucking hell.

Gojo's jaw clenched as he groaned, his entire body trembling with the need to take her. But watching her like this—watching her come undone right in front of him—was too intoxicating to stop. 

He felt like he was on fire.

No fight would ever compare to this.

No curse would ever compare to this.

Nothing in the fucking world would ever compare to this.

Her moans grew louder, her legs trembling as she pushed the vibrator harder against herself, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

“I want you to watch me fall apart, just for you.”

Satoru’s pulse quickened, his body on the verge of breaking, his hand moving faster on himself as he watched her, completely mesmerised by the sight of her.

Just before Utahime could reach her peak, his restraint snapped. 

In one swift movement, he reached forward, his hand gripping the vibrator, taking control. He pressed it against her harder, his movements precise and relentless as he pleasured her, watching as her body responded instantly, her back arching and her breath coming in ragged gasps.

“S-Satoru!” She gasped taken by surprise, her voice breaking, her hands gripping the sheets as the intense sensations overwhelmed her. 

Her legs trembled, her hips bucking uncontrollably as he drove her closer and closer to release.

Gojo could barely control himself, his own need raging inside him, but the sight of her body completely at his mercy, was enough to keep him grounded—for now. He kept the vibrator pressed firmly against her, his eyes locked on her face, watching every moment of her pleasure build until she finally broke.

Utahime let out a long, desperate moan, her body tensing as she came hard. Her legs shook, her hands fisted in the sheets, and Satoru could feel the way her body trembled against his hand.

The moment she was done, he tossed the vibrator aside, letting it fall to the floor with a dull thud. He didn’t give her a second to recover before he crashed his lips against hers, kissing her deeply, desperately. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her onto his lap, her body fitting against his like she belonged there.

He needed her.

He needed her so bad.

Her hands flew to his shoulders as she kissed him back, just as fiercely, their bodies tangled in the heat of the moment. His control was hanging by a thread. He could still feel the aftershocks of her orgasm vibrating through her, her breath hot and ragged against his lips, and it was driving him wild.

He pulled her closer, his hands roaming over her body, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath the fabric of that sinful dress. His mind was a blur, filled with nothing but her—her taste, her scent, the way she felt against him.

“You're mine.” He swore against her lips, his voice rough with desire as he moved her into position, ready to take what he had been craving all night.

In a quick movement, he reached towards his nightstand, fumbling to grab a condom, but before he could open the drawer, Utahime’s hand caught his wrist. Her eyes were dark with lust as she looked at him, her voice firm but filled with heat. 

“I want you to fuck me raw.”

Oh.

This was fucking paradise.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his voice rough, barely able to contain the storm.

Utahime nodded, her expression unwavering. “I’m on the pill, and I was tested recently. I’m sure.” She gave him a smirk, her fingers brushing against his chest. “And you?”

Gojo’s gaze softened for a moment, a brief flicker of reassurance. “I don’t fuck around.” He said, his voice low but honest.

“Good. Me neither.” She replied, her voice husky as she leaned in to kiss him again. 

It was slow, intense, the kind of kiss that made him forget the entire world.

Before he could fully prepare himself, Utahime shifted, positioning herself over him, and without warning, she sank down onto him, taking part of him in one swift, unexpected motion. 

He let out a deep, guttural moan, his body jerking in response to the overwhelming sensation of her warmth enveloping him.

“Jesus, Hime—” He grunted, his fingers digging into her hips as he tried to steady himself. “So fucking tight.”

Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip, her body tense as she adjusted to the size of him. “Push in a little more.” She whispered, her voice thick with need. “You’re too big.”

Gojo gritted his teeth, his heart pounding in his chest as he made a slow, deliberate push, applying more pressure, his cock sinking deeper into her. He felt her body stretch around him, the sensation nearly driving him mad as he pushed the rest of the way inside.

Utahime let out a long, throaty moan, her head falling back as she took all of him, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Fuck… Satoru.” Her breath was shaky as she adjusted to the fullness. 

He could feel every inch of her, tight and hot around him, and the pleasure was so intense he thought he might orgasm.

Satoru let out a low growl, his hands gripping her hips as he stilled inside her for a moment, letting her adjust and letting himself breathe. 

He kissed her neck, his lips trailing along her skin as he fought to keep control, every muscle in his body tense with need.

“You're perfect.” He murmured against her skin.

They started moving together in a rhythm that was almost primal, their bodies locked in an intense, heated dance. She rode him slowly at first, her hands gripping his shoulders for balance, the wet dirty sound filling the air as she rocked her hips against him.

His mind was a blur of sensation.

Every part of him was tuned to her, to the way she responded to his touch, to the connection between them that felt almost electric. 

He could feel her body tense and relax in perfect time with his movements, their breathing matching in rhythm, the pressure between them building.

But then, after a while, Utahime let out a ragged breath, her hands sliding down his chest as she leaned forward, her voice thick with desire. “Fuck me from behind.”

Gojo’s breath caught in his throat, his body shuddering at the request. He could barely control the surge of arousal that washed over him at her words. "Yeah?" He growled softly, his hands gripping her hips tighter as he slowed down, the anticipation crackling between them.

Utahime nodded, her eyes gleaming with that same lust that had driven them from the start. “Turn me around.”

He helped her off his lap, both of them breathing heavily as they shifted positions. He moved behind her, his hands finding their way to her hips as she positioned herself on all fours in front of him, her back arched, her dress riding up high, only covering her stomach at this point. 

The sight of her like that—completely open for him—was almost too much.

He lined himself up, gripping her hips tightly as he slowly pushed into her from behind. Utahime let out a sharp moan as he filled her again, the angle hitting deeper this time. He groaned in response, the sensation overwhelming as he began to move, thrusting into her with steady, deliberate force.

“Fuck, Hime.”

His is hands were guiding her as he picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and more urgent.

Her moans grew louder as he drove deeper into her, her body arching back to meet every one of his movements. 

“Satoru… just like that.” She gasped, her breath catching as her fingers gripped the sheets beneath her. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t plan on stopping.

Never again.

Gojo felt Utahime’s body tremble beneath him, her moans growing more desperate with every thrust. Her hands gripped the sheets, her back arching as he drove into her from behind, their bodies moving in perfect sync. And then, he felt it—her muscles tightening, her breath catching, her entire body shuddering as she came hard around him.

“Fuck… Satoru…” She gasped, her voice trembling as the pleasure rolled through her. 

Gojo clenched his jaw, feeling her tighten around him as she came, and it nearly pushed him over the edge. “I’ve got you baby, I’ve got you.” He almost lost control right then and there, the sensation of her body pulsing around his cock driving him crazy, but he hold her waits, grounding herself to help her feel more.

But he wasn’t done. 

He needed more. 

He needed to see her face.

He needed to cum while looking at her pretty face.

Before she could fully recover, he grabbed her, turning her over with ease. In one fluid motion, Gojo sat back on the bed with his knees on the mattress, pulling her into him, her body draped over his lap, her legs spread wide on either side of him. He lifted her into the air, holding her securely by her thighs as he lined himself up with her again.

Without hesitation, he drove back into her, filling her completely. Utahime gasped, her fingers gripping his shoulders as she sank down onto him, her body still sensitive from her last orgasm. But she didn’t stop. She rocked against him, riding him as Gojo thrust up into her, their bodies perfectly aligned.

His hands tightened on her thighs, guiding her movements as he fucked her in the air, his pace relentless.

“Satoru…” She moaned, her voice breathless as she clung to him. “I’m going to cum again…”

He felt his control slipping. 

His breath came in ragged gasps, his hands gripping her tighter as he thrust deeper into her, matching her pace.

“Together, Hime.” He growled, his voice rough with desire.

They moved faster, their bodies locked together, the pleasure building to an unbearable height. 

And then, all at once, it hit them.

Utahime cried out as she came again, her body shaking uncontrollably as her orgasm ripped through her, her nails digging into his shoulder’s skin. 

Satoru felt it too, the overwhelming sensation of her tightening around him sending him over the precipice. He let out a deep, guttural groan as he came, his body tensing as he released inside her, their pleasure perfectly in sync.

Utahime collapsed onto the bed, her body still trembling slightly from the intensity of what they’d just shared, her tights full of his cum that was dripping from her hole. 

Satoru followed, gently pulling her down with him as he lay beside her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her close, his fingers tracing soft circles on her belly, their breathing slowly beginning to even out. 

He proceeded to yank his t-shirt off, completely shocked it had last that long on him, and cleaned Utahime between her legs. Once he was done, he laid down next to her again.

Gojo turned his head to look at her, and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he saw the soft blush colouring her cheeks. She was quiet, her eyes still half-closed, and her expression more peaceful than he had ever seen her.

“Are you blushing?” He teased, his voice soft but playful. “You embarrassed now, Utahimeeee?”

She shot him a look, though the embarrassment was clear in her eyes. “Shut up!” She muttered, turning her face slightly as if to hide from him.

He laughed softly, the sound low and warm, then pressed a gentle kiss against her cheek. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?” He whispered, his lips lingering for a moment as he smiled against her skin.

She turned again to him and her lips curved into a smile, her body relaxing against his as the warmth of the moment settled around them.

Gojo smirked, his hand continuing to lazily trace circles on her skin, the intimacy between them feeling natural now, unhurried. 

He held her close, savouring the quiet after everything they’d just shared, his heart still racing but now with a softer rhythm.

And then he felt like himself again, so it was time to rile her up.

He smirked as a playful thought crossed his mind. 

“So... are you my girlfriend now?” He asked, his voice teasing but with a hint of sincerity.

Utahime gasped softly, her eyes widening in surprise.

Gojo chuckled, tightening his grip on her waist. “I mean…” He continued with a grin and changing his tone to a dramatic one. “I don’t sleep around, so you’ve got to take responsibility for what you did tonight, Utahime-senpai!”

She narrowed her eyes at him, pretending to be annoyed, but she couldn't suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “You're such a brat.” She muttered, her words laced with affection. 

And then she laughed softly, the sound warm and light, her fingers brushing lightly through his hair as she leaned in.

He was completely doomed.

He was completely hers.

They kissed again, this time soft and unhurried, their lips meeting with tenderness.

Gojo pulled back slowly, a satisfied smile on his face, and then he reached down to the edge of the bed, grabbing the covers and pulling them over the both of them. He settled back against the pillows, wrapping an arm around her again as she snuggled into his chest, their bodies fitting perfectly together.

He lay there, his eyes fluttering shut, still holding Utahime close. 

A soft smile lingered on his face as he let out a content sigh, his mind swirling and savouring the best night of his entire life.

And with that final thought, he drifted into sleep, completely at peace, with Utahime in his arms.

(…)

The next morning, their bodies were tangled together on the sofa, both completely naked. 

She was bent over, gripping the pillows on all fours, her back arching under the pressure of his deep, hard thrusts. 

The room was filled with nothing but the sharp slap of skin against skin and dirty moans. 

Then, without warning, the front door swung open.

Gojo barely had time to process the sound before his heart dropped into his stomach. 

Fuck.

Fuck.

He had completely forgotten that he’d given his apartment keys to Shoko and Suguru the previous day.

His thrusts faltered, and time seemed to slow as he heard Shoko’s voice cut through the haze of pleasure like a sharp knife. 

“Oh my God!” She screamed, covering her eyes dramatically, her tone a perfect mix of horror and disbelief. “Satoru! I trusted you to behave!”

He froze, his hands still gripping Utahime’s hips, his body going rigid. 

His mind scrambled for a response, but he was too stunned to do anything but stare in shock.

Meanwhile, Suguru burst out laughing, clearly enjoying the scene way more than he should have been. 

He leaned casually against the doorframe, shaking his head. “I told you something was happening last night.” He chuckled, smirking at Gojo, who still couldn’t form a coherent thought.

Utahime, however, was far from flustered. 

With surprising calm, she turned her head and shot a sharp glare toward the intruders. 

“Leave.” Her voice was firm and commanding.

She was so fucking hot.

Shoko, still peeking from behind her hands, wore a look of shocked curiosity, torn between leaving and getting an eyeful. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Leave, unless you want to see me cum on Satoru’s cock, of course.”

Fuck.

He almost came with those words alone.

Shoko’s eyes widen in sheer disbelief. “Okay, okay!” She squeaked, her hands clamping firmly over her face as she turned and practically sprinted back out the door. “I definitely don’t need to see that!”

Geto, still chuckling, followed her, casting one last amused glance at them. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving nothing but silence in its wake.

Gojo, still processing what had just happened, stared at the door for a moment, his heart still racing, his body tense. But when Utahime turned her gaze back to him, her eyes full of challenge and desire, he knew they weren’t done. 

Not even close.

Utahime smiled at him.

“Where were we?”

Fucking vixen.