Work Text:
After feeling his unmistakable gaze sweep over for what felt like the fiftieth time since this meeting had started, Utahime hissed, “Stop it.”
Gojo, of course, smiled faintly. “Stop what?”
“Stop looking at me like that!”
“Like what?”
Utahime gritted her teeth. “Like you want to–” She couldn’t finish the description, her cheeks already warm from frustration and embarrassment, but he knew exactly how he was looking at her. Like he wanted to devour her, like he wanted to throw her on the table, spread her legs open, and fuck her in front of everyone. He wasn’t even bothering to hide the fact that he was staring at her, which made it all the worse, her hairs prickling at her nape. “At least put your blindfold on.”
“No,” Gojo replied simply.
“Why not?”
“Because I want to look at you,” Gojo shot back cheekily, his sunglasses sliding further down the bridge of his nose to accentuate the point.
It took everything in Utahime’s power not to take her notepad and fling it at his face, although she knew it would’ve only hit the barrier of his Infinity. She needed to concentrate on the discussion, but Gojo was making it difficult with his insufferable presence. There had been a series of deaths along the eastern coast, many of them congregating around Enoshima, and they were trying to determine if they were connected by a singular curse or were separate attacks by multiple curses.
This was a very important meeting involving sorcerers from all over Japan – lives were at stake, especially since most of the deaths were foreign tourists, which complicated things for the government – and so it was extremely aggravating that instead of paying attention, Gojo was trying to play footsie with her under the table and staring at her like she was his favorite sweet to snack on in front of their associates and the higher-ups.
She didn’t speak to him the rest of the meeting, determinedly ignoring him no matter what he did, but the more she blushed, the broader Gojo’s grin spread across his face.
Damn him, damn him to hell and back. She’d truly curse him if she didn’t fear he’d haunt her for fun.
As soon as the meeting wrapped up, Utahime gathered her things and tried to make a beeline for the exit, hastening to report back at Kyoto Tech for Gakuganji since he hadn’t been able to attend it. The higher-ups had mentioned sending her to the location nearest her school. Kyoto was mainly landlocked, but four deaths had occurred around Isle Bay, and her technique, along with her curse energy, was good for luring curses. She would need to coordinate things with Gakuganji, make sure her classes were taken care of, speak with her–
A hand under her elbow caught Utahime off guard, a yelp escaping her when she was yanked into a side room before she could even figure out what was going on. Not that it really mattered. Only one person would dare to be so presumptuous with her, knowing full well that she snapped at men that touched her, and so she wasn’t surprised to find herself pinned against a wall by Gojo, with more than just his gaze this time.
Utahime steeled herself, clutching her notebook tightly against her chest. “Gojo–”
“You know, many would consider it an honor,” Gojo drawled, “to be desired so much by the strongest sorcerer of our time.”
His low tone sent a shiver down Utahime’s spine, but she tried not to let it show. Many people probably would enjoy being the object of Gojo’s desire. Unfortunately, she was not any of those people. It had been fine in the beginning, back when they were younger, his affection more juvenile than anything else. His attempts at flirting had been cute at best, obnoxious at worst, but mostly harmless. She could scold him, roll her eyes, maybe even flirt back in their own weird way. It was fun, nothing serious, and she didn’t have to worry about anything.
Now that they were older, things were much different, and their duties had made things far more complicated than either of them could’ve imagined before getting entangled with one another.
“It’s not an honor,” Utahime told him. “It’s a disgrace.”
Gojo tilted his head. “And why is that?”
“Because I’m–” Utahime snapped her mouth shut, glowering at him for nearly making her say it aloud. She didn’t talk about it, this glaring fact about herself, even though it was a large part of her life and she couldn’t exactly avoid it. Gojo certainly didn’t like bringing it up, almost like he could pretend it didn’t exist, as if his strength alone could blot out whatever he didn’t like in the world.
And he really didn’t like the fact that she wasn’t his, at least not fully, because on paper, she was neither Iori Utahime nor Gojo Utahime.
She was Zen’in Utahime, and that stung them both bitterly.
“Does it really matter?” Gojo asked flatly, his fingers gliding through her hair. “It’s not like you love him or anything. Hell, do you even like him? When’s the last time you two had sex – you know, heir-making duties?”
Utahime flushed deeply. “I’m not discussing my and my husband’s private life with you.”
Gojo’s lips curled into a sneer. “Oh, so he’s your husband now?”
“Yes,” Utahime whispered, her lips trembling.
“When’s the last time your husband touched you like this?” As Gojo’s hand trailed down her side, there was a sense of benevolence in his touch – and cruelty in his words and gaze. He gripped her hip possessively and pulled her snug against him, making her drop her notebook and eliciting a gasp from her when she felt the hard-on in his pants. He wasn’t fully aroused yet, but he could get there soon, especially if she continued to fight him. He loved it when she did that, never making it easy for him to get into her cunt, like it was a prize for him to win. “When’s the last time your husband made you cum on his cock – or does he even bother with that?”
Utahime couldn’t answer him, her mind already spiraling from the way he was working off her clothes. She was helpless to stop him, falling into the same routine. She tried to slap his hand away, nails digging into Infinity, but he was relentless, shoving down her hakama and undoing her kosode. He met her franticness with aggression, both of them getting worked up in the process. By the time he cupped her mound over her underwear, she was wet, and he could tell, a smirk forming on his face.
“You need it?” Gojo asked sweetly. “Need someone to fuck you properly?”
“No,” Utahime ground out.
Gojo worked her clit over with a knuckle, dragging a whimper out of her. “You don’t have to lie, Uta. We both know that little shit isn’t giving it to you good. Hell, he probably doesn’t even know how to fuck you, just pumps you full of a load and leaves you alone.” He bent down, kissing her neck and nipping at her ear. “It’s a damn shame – he’s missing out – but I don’t mind. I know exactly how you feel and what you sound like when you’re getting off, and it’s beautiful. I’ll always fuck you just the way you like.”
Utahime squeezed her eyes closed. She didn’t like this – she didn’t want this – but she couldn’t find it in herself to tell him that, not when something powerful was building up deep inside her. She could protest all she wanted, but she wasn’t trying to push him away anymore, one hand gripping his arm while the other hand fisted a handful of his jacket, holding on for dear life as he brought her to peak with merely his fingers. How could she say she didn’t want or need this when she was letting him play her like a violin? He plucked at her strings with precision and intuition until she was shaking, tears blurring her vision, coming on his fingers like a whore.
“Tell me you want it, Utahime,” Gojo growled in her ear. “Tell me you want me to fill you up, erase whatever damage that bastard has done?”
Utahime let out a shaky breath, her knees wobbling. “Satoru–” Her voice choked up with emotion, unable to hold herself back, but even without a full admission, he knew what she was trying to say.
Gojo smiled, kissing her on the cheek. “That’s my girl. I always knew it’d be you.”
It was a stupid and terrible idea. She was married, for fuck’s sake, to the future head of the Zen’in clan no less. Her only requirement, her only job, was to get pregnant with his heir, but here she was, getting fucked and filled by Gojo on the side far more than her own husband. It was absolutely shameful, a total disgrace to not only her husband but also her own family and the higher-ups that had helped arrange this union, but she couldn’t help it. As much as she might proclaim that she couldn’t say no to someone as powerful as Gojo, the truth was that she was furious, and this was the only way she knew how to get back at those that changed her future.
When they were young and idealistic, she’d only considered marriage as a concept, something that she might eventually want. It was less concrete than her desire for children, that one far more palpable. Utahime had been more concerned with becoming a sorcerer in her own right and then later on a teacher, sad about the change in her career at first and then excited by it when she proved to excel. And then she turned twenty-five and found out that her parents had made a deal to give her to the next head of the Zen’in clan as a wife when she was a child.
It had completely blindsided her, though she supposed she should consider herself a little fortunate. Technically, the current head of the Zen’in clan was Naobito, an absolutely disgusting degenerate bastard that made her skin crawl if he was sober and made her want to bite and snap when he was drunk. He was worse than her once liquored up, and that was saying something. He didn’t have a wife anymore, something absolutely no one talked about, and as a man, he was still capable of having children. There was Jinichi as well, an absolute brute and older than her too, but no, instead, she’d been passed off to Naobito’s youngest son, Naoya, who was more of a snake than a man.
He was handsome, intelligent, and powerful – and he had the shittiest personality she could possibly imagine, a near carbon copy of his father but more in control of himself. For the most part, at least. Utahime had figured out early on that arguments with him could only end brutally, but she was resilient if nothing else, so they’d been more or less forced to come to a truce if he wanted to knock her up.
Except that Gojo was most certainly beating him out on filling her with his seed. Ever since her engagement to Naoya had been announced, he’d become even more determined, as if he was on a mission to get her pregnant before her actual husband.
It probably would’ve worked had she not been secretly on birth control for the first year of the marriage with Shoko’s help. Naoya had grown too suspicious though and found the pills, the ensuing argument so explosive that she hadn’t been able to go to the school for over a week and he’d nearly made her resign entirely. She could still see those pills swirling down the toilet drain, along with her future.
So lost in the come down of her orgasm and thoughts, Utahime didn’t even notice Gojo had taken his cock out of his pants until the tip of it pressed against her cunt over her underwear. She jolted, sharply brought back into the moment, and a moment of clarity ripped through her. “Gojo, wait, don’t–” Her attempts to push him away were futile at best, her squirming and pressing her hips back as if she could keep him out of her. “I can’t–”
“You can’t what?” Gojo mocked. “Can’t take my cock? Can’t fuck around on your husband? Because you’ve been so loyal to him.”
A scowl flashed across Utahime’s face. “You wouldn’t let me even if I tried!”
Gojo grabbed her by the chin. “That’s right. Because despite whatever those pointless papers might say, you’re mine first. He knew that, so it’s on him for trying to piss in my territory anyway.”
Naoya did know that, which made it all the more humiliating. Half of their arguments revolved around Gojo, but it wasn’t like he could do anything either. What was he supposed to do? Storm Jujutsu High and demand Gojo stop fucking his wife? Go to the higher-ups and complain that Gojo was cucking him? Tell on him to his clan and parents? No one could tell Gojo what to do, not really, and it wasn’t like this was unknown either. Everyone knew, not just because of his blatant behavior in public. It was the worst kept secret.
Utahime was well aware about what was said of her behind her back. Gojo’s whore. A stain on the Zen’ins. Disgrace to her family. It didn’t matter that she’d neither wanted to marry into the Zen’in clan nor had the strength and power to deny Gojo what he wanted. In the end, it was easier to sleep around with Gojo because at least, in some fucked up way, she got something out of it. He had the decency to make sure she was pleasured, sometimes even being nice enough to whisper things in her ear that made her heart flutter. He didn’t treat her like a prop, giving her his sole focus in a way she knew very few people, if any, had truly experienced before.
Without her glare or scowl softening, she reached up to slide her hands around Gojo’s neck and brought him down to press her lips against his. At least this way she wasn’t just some passive toy for him to fuck. He grinned into her lips, pleased by her initiative, and moved his hands underneath her ass, lifting her up and pressing her firmly against the wall. Holding her up with one hand, he guided his cock to her center, brushing her underwear aside, and began to press himself into her.
Those first few seconds of being breached always made Utahime’s heart skip a beat. Gojo’s dick was longer than Naoya’s, hitting a spot deep inside of her that her husband could never reach, that seemingly only he had ever touched. She was shamefully soaked, her walls welcoming him, warm and snug. He felt fucking good, always did, but especially right now as he inched his way further into her.
“Shit, I don’t think you’ve ever been this wet before,” Gojo marveled. “You really want me to knock you up, huh?”
She was damn near dripping on him, allowing him to glide inside of her, moaning when he finally bottomed out. It was humiliating, but she couldn’t find it in her to complain. He picked a hell of a time to fuck her, as if he could sense where she was in her cycle, slipping into the perfect moment to get what he wanted.
Gojo kept his body close as he fucked her with short but deep thrusts, the slick sounds dulled by their clothes and the lack of space between them. She never dropped her arms from around her neck, burying her face in his chest so her whines and whimpers were muffled. He normally preferred her loud, but he didn’t seem to care now, too intent on getting what he wanted out of her.
With his head tucked against the side of hers, Gojo turned to suck on her ear. “You gonna give me an heir, Hime? I know you’d make such a good mommy, all cute and round.” He humped into her, smacking her against the wall and knocking the breath from her lungs. “I only want it with you. Fucking clan elders trying to pawn all these whores on me, but you’re it. You’re the only one.”
You only want me because I’m not yours, Utahime thought to say, but she couldn’t get the words out of her mouth.
He could’ve broken up the betrothal. It would’ve been messy and brutal, but she was certain he could’ve done it if he really wanted her. Married her in some small ceremony before she could be passed off to Naoya, taking her as his wife before the gods and their friends, if not their family. She hadn’t expected it from him, so when he remained silent on the matter, it didn’t hurt. What did hurt, however, was how he seemed to expect her to bend her entire life to his will.
Fuck, he could’ve had almost anyone. There were plenty of female sorcerers willing to throw themselves at his feet, spread their legs and let him fuck them pregnant to carry on the Gojo clan legacy, but here he was, fucking her roughly against a wall right outside the room where all the higher-ups had been moments before, desperate to fill her up like his future depended on it.
God if it wasn’t good too. Gojo was right. He did know how to fuck her the way her body liked.
“Satoru,” Utahime gasped, rubbing against him as much as the position allowed her.
“That’s it,” Gojo groaned. “You want it too, don’t you?”
She didn’t. She did. Some nights, while she laid in bed after Naoya fucked her, she thought of the way his nose wrinkled when he realized she was too wet to just be aroused, and it nearly made her laugh. That would’ve been a grave mistake, Naoya sure to smack her clear across the face, so she bore his insults and accusations, knowing they weren’t exactly false. Gojo’s weak whore, Naoya’s faithless bitch of a wife. She wasn’t the subservient woman expected of Zen’in wives, but she didn’t think he would’ve actually been pleased if she was. He liked the fight too much, just like Gojo, the two of them born of the same cloth in their own weird way.
In a fucked up way, as much as it pissed off Naoya that Gojo was having his way with his wife, he liked having something that Gojo also wanted. In a way, they shared her, a tenuous truce, the two of them locked in some strange competition on who could further their clan first. The Gojo clan should’ve been grateful that Naoya had managed to make Gojo interested in having an heir, at the least.
Utahime clawed at him, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking hard. “Satoru, please–”
“Fuck, yeah, gonna fill you up real good this time,” Gojo moaned, switching to a brutal pace that left her shaking and crying into his jacket. She spilled over sharply, gushing over his cock and the front of his pants. Her walls spasmed around him frantically, as if afraid that this was it – this was the moment everything would fall – but all she could do was ride out the orgasm.
There was no sense in worrying about Gojo ruining her. He’d done a solid job of that already.
“Shit, shit–”
Gojo never lasted long after she got off on his cock, too overstimulated and obsessed with the way she felt when she orgasmed. It was a small mercy, she supposed, the way he spent himself inside her only seconds after she came. Of course, if he decided it was too soon or not enough, he’d make sure to fuck her again, shove her down on the floor or a wall, usually on her stomach, so he could fuck into her from behind. He wanted the job done, and he wanted it done well. Gojo fucked her like he was on a mission, and maybe he was.
She keened when he finally got off, fucking his release into her. He filled her with ropes of his cum, his long dick practically kissing her womb, more determined than ever. It hurt, his thrusts bordering on furious, until he finally sheathed himself fully inside her and stayed there. Her toes curled, her feet dangling, but he held her against the wall, refusing to let her go until he was satisfied with his work. He nuzzled against her neck in the meantime, planting little kisses and licks that had her shuddering from the aftershocks of her own pleasure.
“This time,” Gojo panted. “It’s gonna take this time.”
For some reason, a part of her agreed with him, ready to give in to the inevitable, and Utahime laughed weakly, unable to help herself. How the fuck had she gotten herself wrapped up in this game between these men? She’d only tried to be good, and yet here she was now, a mere pawn.
“And what then?” she asked mockingly, still a little breathless. “Will you pass me off to Naoya to fulfill my wifely duties? Am I supposed to supply both the Gojo and Zen’in clan with heirs? Is that my purpose now?”
Gojo pulled his face out from her neck, a lazy grin on his lips. “You think I’ll let him knock you up? You might be his wife, but you’ll always be mine.”
Utahime could say nothing to that, especially when she felt Gojo’s cock stirring inside of her again. She bit the inside of her cheek, willing herself not to react, but it was hard. Damn his Reverse Curse Technique. It should’ve been illegal for him to use it for such depraved acts. Apparently, he was determined to fill her to the brim before sending her back to her husband. He would know what she’d done even before he fingered her, knowing exactly when the meeting had come to an end. Every minute would be a strike against her, but Gojo didn’t care. She was his for now, and Naoya would have to deal with it.
And Utahime? Well… As long as she closed her eyes, it didn’t matter. She had always dreamed of being a mother, but she had never considered who the father would be that much.