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Objectively, Utahime has plenty of reasons to be sad.
She’s seen enough death to last a lifetime – friends, family, and students alike. Violence and horror go hand-in-hand surviving in jujutsu society. Nightmares plague her dreams and ensure she never goes without looking over her shoulder. Gakuganji never shows her the respect she deserves, despite her unwavering loyalty, for the simple fact that she is just shy of Grade One and a woman. Frankly speaking, she’s expendable to Headquarters as a woman with a “lackluster” curse technique from a no-name family. Her existence is almost a joke; she suffers in the name of a society that treats her like a second-class citizen.
Utahime’s able to put all those things aside most of the time. She has a job to do, after all.
But there are days when it’s nearly too much to bear. Sometimes there’s a trigger – a stray comment, a nightmare, a scent in the air – other times there isn't. Either way, it feels like a suffocating weight that makes her want to either scream or cry.
Today appears to be one of those days. She tells herself she has no reason to be sad even though, objectively, she knows that isn't true. But rather than screaming or crying, Utahime tries to find solace in her reflection on a familiar tin can.
She knows she shouldn't drink when she's like this – it only makes her mood worse. But it's the only thing she can think of. A terrible habit, yes; she supposes she could indulge in much worse, though.
Objectively.
Utahime doesn't know why she bought two cases of Sapporo.
As much as she likes drinking, she can only finish maybe one case in a night without making herself sick. But for some reason she felt like she needed two, like carrying them home, one in each hand, would keep her balanced or something.
The longer she drinks alone on her couch, however, the more she realizes that perhaps she bought two because she doesn't want to be by herself right now. She has a few friends she could call even though it's been ages since they hung out or drank together. They always act like they've never been separated by time or distance – that's just how Shoko and Mei are. But that's not who flashes through her mind when she reaches the end of her third beer.
Obnoxious laughter, pretty lips curled into a grin, electric blue eyes that see right through her and find all her weak spots.
“No,” Utahime tells herself. “Absolutely not.”
Drinking with Gojo Satoru always has consequences, the biggest being that she actually finds him tolerable. She's gone down that road a few too many times.
Then again, maybe that's what she needs right now. Maybe she needs someone tolerable, someone who will act as though nothing has changed come morning.
It's shocking how well they get along when they’re drunk.
Utahime stares at her phone as she sips her way through her fourth beer. By the time she's gone through half the can, her brain starts to feel a little fuzzy, and all the reasons to not call him feel smaller and smaller. She snatches her phone and sends a text before she convinces herself not to.
Utahime drops her phone back on the coffee table immediately after with a scoff. Gojo is almost always busy. And even if he isn't, there's a solid chance he won't respond. So it's no use worrying about –
A rhythmic knock on her door makes her jump.
Utahime almost spills her beer and flings an incredulous look at her entryway. She smooths it out as she gets up, because he’ll read her expression too easily otherwise, and takes a deep breath before she opens the door. The smell of ozone fills her nose. Gojo stands with both hands in his pockets as he braces his weight on his right leg. He's in casual clothes, khaki colored pants and a slightly too-big long-sleeved black shirt, with ruffled hair and a pair of sunglasses that do nothing to hide the gleam in his eyes.
All the reasons come rushing back when he looks at her like that.
Utahime feels something throb in her temple, an almost immediate regret. This is a bad idea.
“Why are you here?”
Gojo cocks his head. “I assumed that's what you wanted since you sent me a booty text.”
“That was not a – booty text,” she says, and for some reason it makes the back of her neck hot. “I just asked if you were busy. I was making conversation.”
“After midnight?” He grins.
Utahime’s mouth clicks shut.
Gojo’s all too perceptive gaze darts to the beer in her hand, then over her shoulder, sweeping over her living room and the two huge cases on her coffee table. He whistles.
“That's a lot of booze even for you, Utahime.”
She scoffs in the back of her throat and turns around to head back to her couch. “Shut up and just come inside. I bought too much and I don't want it to go to waste.”
Gojo steps inside and closes the door behind him.
He could point out that she could have invited Shoko or Mei to join her. He doesn't.
Instead, he strolls into her apartment like he always does. Like he owns the place. He meanders unhurriedly to her couch where he flops himself right next to her, not leaving an inch of room even though there is plenty of space. Her couch can comfortably seat four people.
Utahime accepts the invasion of personal space with a glare as she hands him a beer.
“You're usually way more cheerful when you're drinking,” he comments as he pops the tab. “Isn't this your favorite hobby?”
“Just drink,” she sighs.
Gojo huffs a chuckle and does as he's told for once. He downs his first beer before she finishes the last of her fourth.
Utahime quickly polishes it off and snatches another when he grabs his second can.
He lifts an eyebrow, amused. “Is that what this is? A competition?”
She never takes her eyes off him as she chugs her fifth beer in four solid swallows, barely tamping down the violent belch that tries crawling out of her throat afterward. Gojo finishes his easily, flashing a grin that's all teeth as he releases the tiniest splash of curse energy to squash the can into a ball. Utahime is hardly fazed by his showboating. He's still behind by quite a few.
Though knowing his competitive attitude, that won't be for long.
Eventually, Utahime loses track of how many cans she's gone through. She could count them since they're littered all over her living room floor, but looking down at them makes her head spin so she doesn't. Gojo presses closer and closer to her the longer they drink. Until he's plastered up against her side and she can smell his cologne, bergamot and cedarwood and leather, layered under the yeast of the beer.
He always smells nice. It’s particularly frustrating because his scent tends to linger.
When her face starts to feel numb, Utahime slows down. She knows herself well enough to understand that drinking much more will turn her into a sloppy drunk. And that's not what she wants out of tonight. Gojo, however, has no brakes.
He watches her slow down and then chugs three more Sapporos as if to prove a point. She's not sure what that point is when his cheeks are flushed just like hers and his eyes glaze over behind his sunglasses.
“Why d’you wear those inside?” Utahime grumbles.
“Hmm?”
“The…the glasses.”
Gojo goes a bit cross eyed, trying to look at the sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “My eyes are too powerful. It's tiring. I’ve told you before.”
“You look like a prick,” she says.
Gojo throws his head back and laughs. “Should I take them off, then?” he asks when he's done, lips still curled in a grin. “Would that be better?”
“Yes.”
Gojo slides them off his face immediately to toss them on her coffee table, pale lashes fluttering as he blinks. He's too damn pretty when he opens those electric blue eyes and pins her with them.
“You're right,” he murmurs, leaning closer, “much better.”
No, Utahime thinks, not better. Not better at all.
Because then he's pressing his nose into the side of her neck and inhaling, smelling her without shame. Nuzzling. Like he does when he's horny and trying to get her in the mood. One of his hands finds her knee, thumb rubbing circles into the material of her black pants. It travels higher, all the way up her thigh, as he noses into her pulse.
Utahime swallows. “What’re you doing?”
His chuckle is a puff of air on her skin. “This is what you really wanted when you texted me, isn't it?”
“I…” She squirms when his lips part to let his tongue lick a fat stripe along her neck.
“I was surprised,” he continues. Nuzzling, licking, nipping. He focuses just to the right of her pulse, where she's most sensitive, while his hand massages up her thigh. “You never call me, Hime. Just that desperate tonight, hm?”
Yes, she admits to herself. She is.
She texted him knowing full well this would happen. This is how it always happens.
“Shut up,” she grumbles, then yelps when he sinks his teeth into the tender pulse of her neck.
Gojo laughs again. “No.”
She should argue with him – that’s what she does – but when he grabs her hand and drags it into his lap, over the stiff bulge in his pants, Utahime’s mind goes blank. He’s hard already. A normal man would have a hard time getting it up after so much beer but not him. Not Gojo Satoru. When she grinds her palm against him experimentally, he groans and shifts on her couch. Suddenly, all she can think about it is the familiar heat and stretch of his cock inside her.
Like he knows, Gojo hums and grabs the hair at the base of her neck, tugging her into him for an open-mouthed kiss.
Calling it a kiss might not be accurate, she thinks vaguely. It’s hard to think like this. But the way his lips pry hers open and he shoves his tongue in her mouth makes her think he’s trying to devour her. He doesn’t give her a chance to even breathe, drinking her every exhale as though she’s his personal supply of oxygen. His fingers stay rooted in her hair, holding her still for each hard press of his mouth.
The room starts spinning and Utahime grabs his cock.
Gojo pulls away from her with a hiss, allowing air to rush into her lungs with a gasp. Her lips tingle and his flavor, mixed with the wheat of the beer, sits on her tongue.
If she weren’t already drunk, Utahime would be drunk on him by now.
His face is flushed from the alcohol and his lips are plump from sucking on hers – even prettier than normal. The lust shining in his blue eyes is enough to turn Utahime’s panties into a mess. In the morning, when she’s sober, she’ll hate how quickly she gets wet when he looks at her like that.
The fingers at the nape of her neck twitch, a reminder of their presence, before Gojo tugs her back in for another brain-melting kiss. He pants into her mouth in between thrusting his tongue against hers, licking behind her teeth. His other hand jumps to her blouse and yanks on the first two buttons. They pop free and Utahime barely registers the fact that he ripped them off completely, losing them somewhere in her carpet.
Gojo pulls away again, letting her catch her breath, and immediately shoves a hand between the gap of her blouse. He cups the swell of her right tit through her bra and squeezes.
Utahime bites her lip against the whine that so badly wants to escape, tipping her head back.
Familiar lips trace the line of her throat while long, slender fingers knead her bra. Her tits have never been particularly sensitive, but they always come alive in his hands. Each squeeze goes right to her cunt, already starting to soak through her underwear. Utahime holds her breath on a particularly rough grope as his teeth scrape against her skin.
He, mercifully, releases her only to tug down the cup of her bra and fit her bare tit in his hand. Gojo finds the pebble of her nipple and pinches hard.
“Hng – ” Utahime bites her tongue.
Laughter echoes in her ears as Gojo does it again and again, plucking her nipple until she's squirming against his side. He toys with her simply because he can. She completely forgets about her hand on his confined cock until she accidentally pushes into it and he groans, trading his teeth against her neck for his tongue.
She jumps, pressing harder on his cock.
“Fuck,” he grunts, “I need – ”
Gojo cuts himself off by pulling Utahime completely into his lap. The action is so sudden, dizzying in her inebriated state, she has to brace both hands on his shoulders and scrunch her eyes shut to keep the room from spinning. Slender fingers are back to messing with her blouse and bra, tugging down the cups until both her tits pop out.
Utahime shudders when the draft of her apartment's air conditioning washes over her flushed skin.
“Yeah… That’s perfect,” Gojo sighs then, and she peels one eye open to see him staring at her tits.
Plumped up by the folded cups of her bra, they look bigger than usual. Her nipples are embarrassingly hard and she reasons with herself that it's because of the chill in the air. They point right at him, begging for the wet heat of his mouth just an inch away.
Gojo doesn't look up at her when he takes her left tit in his mouth. Utahime shudders at the way he nuzzles into her flesh, like he’s trying to fit as much as he can inside his mouth. Both of his hands cage her tits, squeezing, as his tongue works over her nipple. He sucks in earnest, strong pulls of his mouth that make Utahime wince.
She’s going to have bruises tomorrow.
“Ah!” She stiffens when he uses his sharp teeth to pinch her nipple.
Bright blue eyes finally glance up at her as he switches to her right tit with a grin. He gives it the same treatment – sucking and licking and biting. The longer he works, bruising and marking up her tits, the more Utahime squirms. She can’t help the way she grinds down into his lap, the hard bulge in his pants rubbing against her damp crotch.
A particularly harsh bite makes her hips kick and Utahime presses all her weight into his cock.
Gojo pulls off her tit with a pop, making a noise somewhere between a pant and a moan. Between his fingers, he rolls the cherry-red nubs of her nipples. They are sensitive and swollen and Utahime whines when he doesn’t let go.
“Feelin’ it, Hime?”
Her head bobs. She’s too drunk and too horny to lie to him.
Gojo groans his approval at her honesty, leaning forward to suck yet another bruise along the side of her neck. His hands continue playing with her chest; he alternates between plucking her nipples and squeezing her tits. When he’s done with her neck, he slides back down and takes her tits in his mouth one at a time to suck so hard she sees stars. And then he goes back to her neck. Over and over again until her neck and chest are covered in spit and bruises.
It’s maddening.
Utahime doesn’t even realize she’s whining until he starts laughing at her, the sound muffled by her tits in his mouth. Hazy blue eyes stare up at her as he opens his mouth and licks a fat stripe over her nipples. His tongue feels almost like sandpaper against her raw skin.
Utahime grinds down on him again, head tipping back as a full cry works its way out of her.
The hands framing her tits press harder, fingertips digging into the folds of her blouse and pressing into her skin. Gojo finally pulls away from her tits, face crumpled and flushed.
“Fuck,” he grunts, breathing through his nose. “My turn. Want your mouth.”
His words sluice through her thick brain – but Utahime still understands. Somehow, she manages to slide off his lap and sink onto the floor. He spreads his legs wide, making enough room for her, as she sits on her calves. Her fingers are a little numb and clumsy as she struggles to pop the button of his pants.
Gojo shoos her hands away and does it himself, yanking down his zipper and reaching inside to pull his cock through the flaps.
Utahime has memorized his length and girth by now. Yet that still doesn’t stop the initial shock from flipping her stomach. He’s thick as her wrist, nearly the length of her forearm, and perfectly straight. A solid vein pulses under her gaze at the same time a pearl of precum dribbles from the hood. His cock looks too big for his own hands, which shouldn’t be possible.
Fitting him inside her cunt is always a challenge – one he revels in. But one thing he likes even more than that is when she tries to fit him in her mouth. He likes watching her struggle and choke, says as much when he touches the back of her throat.
Hand curled around the base as he holds it up, his cock stretches well past her nose. Utahime’s eyes nearly cross trying to look at it. Gojo’s hand slides up and then back down, rolling his foreskin back to expose the flushed pink head, and settling at the base again. His fingers twitch and his cock taps against her closed lips.
“Say ah…”
Normally, Utahime would snap back at him with a smart comment or bare her teeth. Sober Utahime certainly would. But she’s not sober and her tongue slips out to lick him underneath the head of his cock, along the sensitive ridge where he always likes. Once, twice, three times – almost like she’s warming herself up to the act, reminding her body how this works.
She's never particularly liked sucking cock. In the past with previous partners, Utahime would do it more often than not as a reciprocal action. Nothing more than going through the motions. It never really brought her any personal satisfaction. Something about sucking Gojo’s cock is different, though. Utahime doesn't know what it is, and she would rather die than admit it – even drunk as she is – but there's no denying the throb between her legs or the way her underwear sticks to her skin as she fits him in her mouth.
Salt and musk lavish her taste buds; his precum is a familiar flavor.
Gojo’s voice – a low, pleased hum – infiltrates her ears and her stomach warms. Utahime pulls back an inch just to slide down again, this time a little bit further. She continues, working methodically to fit more of his dick in her mouth until she finds her rhythm. Once comfortable, she pushes away his hand so she can use both of hers to work the bottom half of his cock she’s still unable to reach.
Tension wracks his frame, growing tighter with each bob of her head and twist of her hands.
Utahime pulls off him completely only to spit on his cock and rub it in, adding more lubrication to make the glide easier, before swallowing him down. Gojo’s hips flex and he hums again. Fingers burrow in her hair and it’s the only warning she gets before, suddenly, he takes over.
Gojo holds her head in place and gives an experimental thrust into her mouth. He goes way too deep. Like always. Utahime gags, looking up at him.
“Relax your throat,” he says.
Utahime inhales deeply through her nose, consciously forcing herself to relax like she’s learned to do. He doesn’t wait for her to signal him to continue. He feels for it. And as soon as her muscles loosen, Gojo’s grip in her hair tightens and he starts fucking into her mouth. His cock hammers the back of her throat and Utahime tries her best not to gag.
She fails miserably.
She can hear the sounds she’s making. Ugly, obscene, wet choking that would make a normal man balk. They only rile Gojo further. He revels in her noises.
Gojo laughs, breathless, as he plunges his cock down her throat over and over. Utahime’s nails sink into his thighs, their bite made dull by the fabric barrier of his khaki colored pants. She tries to remember to keep her tongue flat and her teeth out of the way. Drool glazes her lips and chin, dripping from the corner of her mouth in a long string that threatens to snap with each one of his forceful thrusts, and her vision goes blurry. She squeezes her eyes shut and feels wetness on her cheeks.
Gojo yanks her hair. “Eyes up here, Hime.”
Utahime’s eyes peel open and she gags on a particularly sharp thrust. She looks up at Gojo, blinking away more wetness, to see him grinning at her like a feral animal.
“Fuck yeah,” he pants. “You look so good with a cock in your mouth, you know that?”
As if proving a point, he slows down to a crawl. The sudden change in pace makes Utahime’s head spin. Or maybe it's the alcohol. The hand rooted in her hair pulls her toward him as he pushes his hips forward, cramming every inch of his cock down her throat with deliberate leisure. Utahime holds painfully still, feeling him slide deeper and deeper until she can’t breathe, and her nose buries itself in the silver snatch of hair at the root of his cock.
He holds her there for what feels like forever. Eyes wet and throat burning. His other hand reaches down and fits around her neck, fingers compressing just enough to feel the bulge of his own cock through her throat. Utahime swallows in reflex and his jaw goes slack, head tipping back.
“Fuuuck…”
Utahime’s breath hitches and she gags violently. She rips herself off his cock, heaving and feeling like she’s about to vomit. Her diaphragm spasms and she gags again so hard her vision goes spotty, a thick glob of spit dripping from her chin and onto her couch.
Gojo’s grip on her hair remains steady despite her flailing. He stares down at her with amusement, as though the thought of her puking in his lap would be funny.
Knowing him, he wouldn't be put off in the slightest.
He confirms as much when he says, “Gonna puke?”
“No,” is Utahime’s raspy response.
She feels like she swallowed fistfuls of sand and her jaw aches; two common hazards whenever she lets him use her mouth. Utahime gags one last time but refuses to vomit. Even drunk, she knows she wouldn't ever live that down.
He’d gloat about it for years.
The fingers in her hair finally loosen and they fall to her chin, wiping away some of her drool. Gojo’s eyes, electric blue, gleam at her in the way that signals she should probably be concerned for her sanity. Instead, her cunt pulses hot between her legs, angry to have been ignored for so long, and she squirms.
“I'll make us even, don't worry,” Gojo promises, smearing her spit across her bottom lip.
A shiver tickles Utahime’s lower back. Oh, that's what she’s counting on.
He stands, bringing her with him. Together, they kick their way through the pile of crumpled cans on her carpet and stumble into her bedroom. Impatient hands tug at her clothes and Utahime shoves them away to take care of her shirt and bra first. Bunched underneath her tits, it's harder than normal. She still somehow manages to squeeze herself free and toss them to the floor. Her pants follow after a minute of her fingers sliding clumsily over the buttons. Before she can kick off her underwear, Gojo’s hands are on her shoulders and shoving her onto the bed.
He crawls over her, shirtless, and still wearing his unzipped pants. His cock remains free, jutting straight out at her like a threat. She can see it clearly even in the dark.
“Your pants. Take ‘em off,” Utahime mumbles.
“Later.” Gojo’s bright, hazy eyes travel down her body, taking in her bruised tits and flushed skin, before settling between her legs. He grabs her thighs and pushes them apart. “You really are horny tonight, aren’t you? This wet, just from having your tits sucked and your throat fucked.”
She should be squirming indignantly. She should tell him to shut up. She doesn’t do either of those things – because he’s right.
Her white underwear sticks to her cunt like a second skin, practically see-through. Gojo cups her, as if testing how soaked her underwear is for himself. He laughs with genuine glee and grinds his fingers against her cunt; the wet fabric creates a beautiful friction. Utahime inhales sharply, hips bucking. Another laugh. His fingers keep rubbing in slow, deliberate circles just to drive her mad.
It doesn’t last for too long. Thanks to the alcohol, his patience is thinned. He’s in no mood to prolong her torture tonight.
Gojo grabs the waistband of her ruined underwear and pulls them down her legs, flinging them somewhere over his shoulder. Utahime pulses again under his gaze and he makes a throaty noise. His hand moves so quickly she doesn’t even see it, laying a quick open-palm slap to her sopping cunt.
It’s like a bolt of lightning down her spine.
“Ah!” Utahime jumps.
Gojo rubs away the shock of pain. “Always so sensitive, Hime.”
“It’s the beer,” she says, pushing into his palm.
“Sure it is.” He grins again. “I could make you cum, just from this.”
Utahime bites her lip and scrunches her eyes shut. He absolutely could make her cum by grinding his palm into her like this. It feels so good, the pleasure a warm puddle in her lower belly. Distantly, she registers the shifting on her mattress as Gojo adjusts his weight and settles over her, all the while his fingers continue working in steady circles.
Warm air brushes against her cheeks.
“Look at me,” Gojo says.
Utahime opens her eyes and finds him mere inches from her face. He grabs her jaw and her heart skips. Two thick fingers thrust into her cunt without warning and she gasps, hips kicking. Gojo’s grin spreads as he grips her jaw harder and watches her like he’s taking in every little noise and expression she makes. The fingers inside her start moving, giving her no chance to adjust.
She’s so wet it doesn’t matter.
Gojo’s fingers are like nothing she’s ever experienced. They’re what most women dream of having – thick, long, perfectly calloused and experienced. Pure sin. She’s taken them so many times and yet it's always a shock, the way they reach so deep and know exactly where her sweet spot is.
He purposefully glosses over it now. She feels the pads of his fingers slipping along the roof of her cunt and when they get to her sweet spot, the pressure changes to feather-light. Almost nothing at all. A frustrated grunt works its way out of her and Utahime’s hips shift, trying to force his fingers to where she wants them.
Gojo leans down and bites her lip. Hard. “Ah-ah.”
“I wan’ it,” Utahime groans, voice distorted with her lower lip caught between his teeth.
“You wanna cum on my fingers?”
His voice is just as distorted and it takes her brain, fuzzy with alcohol and pleasure, a few seconds to make sense of the words.
Utahime almost whines as she stares up at him. “Yes.”
Gojo’s eyes flash. Something carnal stares back at her and he bites down on her lip again, hard enough to bruise. Utahime gasps into his mouth and, suddenly, his fingers attack her sweet spot with deadly precision. Hard, fast, and brutal. They make a loud sticky sound each time they bury themselves in her cunt.
Another sound meets Utahime’s ears and she belatedly realizes that it's her. Gasping and whimpering. She can’t stop the noises coming from her mouth with Gojo grabbing her face and biting her lip.
He continues to watch her, so close to her face that their noses brush, fingers gripping her jaw tight. Utahime’s body draws up, rigid, as the warmth in her belly spreads to her limbs, all the way to her fingers and toes. Her muscles tense with every thrust of his fingers. Gojo’s upper lip curls, revealing his teeth. His thumb traces a circle around the slippery bud of her clit and presses down.
Utahime breaks.
She cums silently, the air rushing out of her lungs in a sudden burst. Her legs start shaking as he continues to fuck her through it. His thumb keeps insistent pressure on her clit. A second goes by, then two. Utahime’s toes curl in the bedsheets and she squirms, voice returning in a short high-pitched cry, as her hips lift off the bed.
His fingers stop and she collapses, gasping for breath.
Gojo finally releases her bottom lip, licking his own and gripping her jaw as he looks down at her. His cheeks are still flushed from both alcohol and excitement, eyes somehow glazed over and laser-focused at the same time. Some of his silver hair sticks to his forehead, just beginning to bead with sweat. The expression on his face is unbearably smug, one sober Utahime would snark at, but it only makes her stomach flip with excitement.
He’s far from done.
Utahime’s heart is still racing as he leans down again to nuzzle her neck. The hand gripping her jaw relaxes to smooth down over her racing pulse and the line of her throat. Gojo inhales deeply, tongue lavishing the sweat from her skin, and groans. His mouth continues traveling down her chest, past the smattering of bruises and bitemarks marks from earlier, down the smooth planes of her stomach. His left hand follows the same trail until they both meet at the soft skin just below her navel.
Blood rushes in her ears when he looks up the length of her body, smirking, and noses his way through the patch of trimmed dark hair guarding her cunt. His tongue finds her clit with ease. At the same time, the fingers inside her come to life again. Gojo braces his left hand on her lower stomach, palm flat, to hold her in place as he jumps right into a brutal pace.
He doesn’t ease her into it or let her warm up. There’s no need since she’s barely come down from the orgasm. She’s sensitive, every brush of his tongue and fingers like shocks of electricity.
Utahime yelps, toes curling, as he pulls the swollen nub of her clit into his mouth and sucks hard enough to make her see stars. He’s noisy as he does it. Loud, wet slurping that feels perfectly engineered to unsettle her. He knows exactly how to get her off and chooses to do it so audibly that she has no choice but to listen.
The embarrassment heats her blood, warming her from the inside out. She can feel herself soaking his mouth and chin and can’t do anything about it.
Gojo breaks the seal of his lips to snicker directly into her cunt. “Think I can get you to squirt again, Hime?”
“Wha – ” She gasps when the pads of his fingers mash her sweet spot. “No. I don’t know. Maybe?”
Her thoughts are fragmented, partly due to all the beer they drank and partly because it's so hard to think when his tongue is firm on her clit and the heel of his palm grinds against her. She’s never able to form sentences properly when he does his – which is exactly why he does it. He likes to watch her babble.
Gojo turns his wrist, drawing a wet squelch from her cunt. “Listen to that,” he marvels. “You’re dripping down my arm.”
She can’t see his arms, blocked by his head and her legs, but the visual is a vivid masterpiece in her mind. Her insides clench, trying to suck his fingers even deeper.
“You like that? Already wanna cum again? Greedy little pussy,” Gojo admonishes.
He’s right. She’s greedy. So, so greedy.
Utahime keens, a pathetic sound, and tugs on his hair.
He pulls her clit back in his mouth and presses down on her stomach while the fingers inside her curl, rough and purposeful. The muscles in Utahime’s legs tense again. Pressure in her lower belly starts swelling out of control. It’s different from her last orgasm. Bigger, more powerful. A terrifying and all-consuming crescendo that makes every muscle in her body draw tight, including her spine.
She feels like she’s going to pee.
“Gojo. Gojo, it’s – ” Utahime bucks in his hands. “I’m gonna – hng!”
Gojo follows her as she squirms, still fucking into her with his fingers, and hums against her clit. His jaw flexes as he sucks hard one last time and the pressure inside her explodes.
Utahime bursts, squealing. She cums suddenly and explosively in a spray of fluid that soaks Gojo’s face and her thighs. It’s so intense that her whole body trembles and her vision blurs.
Gojo releases her clit with a tiny laugh. “That’s it.”
He yanks his fingers from inside her to lay a light slap to her cunt, strumming and flinging the spray every direction. Utahime’s squeals jump an octave higher. She keeps gushing, a powerful geyser without end. She tightens her lower abdominal muscles to stem the flow but it's like trying to squeeze off a pressurized faucet. Utahime is left to cum helplessly until her body decides it’s done and she collapses into soaking wet bed sheets.
Her inner muscles finally unclench as her cunt stops gushing and air fills her lungs. A distant, fuzzy part of her brain registers the way her body continues trembling. She doesn't realize her vision has gone dark until the edges start fading back to color, revealing familiar fingers still shiny with her slick.
They snap twice.
“Earth to Utahime…”
Utahime blinks, chest heaving. She looks down her body to see Gojo kneeling between her shaky legs, splayed at an obscene angle. He’s completely naked now – must have stripped off his pants while she was spaced out – and running one hand up and down the length of his cock as he watches her. His nose, lips, and chin are just as shiny as the fingers of his right hand.
Gojo’s tongue runs along his bottom lip for show. “That makes two. Let's go for three.”
It takes Utahime a second, but she catches up. Her insides clench and her body flushes hot, desperate for more, despite the fact that she just came and her body is still trying to piece itself back together.
Gojo truly has ruined her. But for right now, she can’t find it in herself to be upset about it. She’ll be upset about it tomorrow after her hangover.
Utahime watches with bleary eyes as Gojo strokes his own cock. He rolls the skin back to reveal the flushed pink head, smearing precum and her slick down all the way to the base. Once, twice. Gojo shuffles his weight and lines himself up. Cock in hand, he runs the head through her lips before sliding it up her swollen cunt and laying his cock flat on stomach like he’s trying to measure himself with her body.
The tip reaches her navel.
“Fucking amazing,” he mutters. “You take me so well, even when I’m all the way up here in your guts.”
Utahime doesn’t know how she does it, honestly. His cock touches her cervix even when she’s lying flat on her back. Cramming the last few inches of him inside can be a struggle sometimes. But she always manages. Sometimes they use lube when they don’t feel like spending forever trying to make it work. They won’t need it tonight. She’s still dripping, feeding the growing puddle underneath her ass.
“C’mon,” Utahime urges, rolling her hips.
Gojo slaps his thick cock against her cunt, right on the swollen nub of her clit.
“Ah!”
Another slap. Dark cackling in her ears.
“Look at you. So horny and desperate for my cock. Called me all the way over here for it. You love it that much, Hime?”
Yes.
His cock slaps her again. “C’mon, I wanna hear it. You remember what to say, don’t you?”
She does. She probably won’t be able to ever forget it. And while some inner part of her burns at his egotistical need to watch her drown in humiliation, she’s too strung out to listen to it. Her lips are looser than ever and her will is a puddle like her insides.
“I love Gojo Satoru’s huge cock,” Utahime whines.
Gojo’s eyes burn brighter than ever at that and his lips curl in a grin. He thumbs his cock down the seam of her cunt to her entrance and nudges the tip in. Normally, he takes his sweet time feeding her inch by inch – a slow, mind-numbing torture. Today, he shoves his cock to the hilt with little fanfare, stretching her wide and bottoming out in seconds with an embarrassingly loud squelch.
It’s like a punch to the gut.
“Ngh!” Utahime curls into it, feeling like her lungs might collapse.
“Fuck,” Gojo wheezes with laughter. “You’re so tight after you squirt.”
There’s no waiting for her to adjust. Both of his hands slide to the curve of her hips, holding her in place as he starts moving. His hips snap forward, pounding into her with long, hard strokes that leave her speechless.
It’s all she can do to grip the sheets and hang on.
The slap of his skin against hers is so loud it ricochets inside Utahime’s skull. She tries to keep herself quiet by biting her lip but her cunt betrays her yet again by making all the noise it wants – wet and gushy like those fat summer peaches he loves. Gojo fucks into her even harder, almost like he's trying to see just how noisy her cunt can get. A particularly obscene squish makes him grunt with satisfaction.
The tip of his cock rams up against her cervix with every thrust, a little bite of pain to cut through the pleasure.
Utahime focuses on that, anchoring herself to reality. It's hard to hold onto when each push of his cock seems to squish more and more air out of her lungs. She doesn't realize she's holding her breath, body drawn up tight, until one of Gojo’s hands abandons her hip and sneaks down to her cunt.
His thumb finds her clit through the slippery mess with ease. It circles around and around but never makes direct contact. Gojo’s other hand slides to her stomach, palm flat and fingers spread wide, and pushes down.
Utahime gasps, air filling her lungs in a rush.
“Yeah,” he pants, “you feel it? All the way up here?”
He pushes down more firmly and Utahime swears she can feel his cock, pistoning inside her, brushing against his palm through the barrier of her stomach. She doesn’t know how to describe the alien feeling.
“Used to be afraid I’d break you,” Gojo keeps talking, borderline babbling now. “So fuckin’ small and tight. But look at you, Hime. You take my dick like you were made for it. Ha, maybe you were.”
He really doesn’t ever shut up, subjecting her to every filthy thought that crosses through his brain. It makes Utahime’s toes curl.
Suddenly, Gojo laughs again. “You just got tighter on me. You liked that, huh?”
Oh no.
Utahime squeezes her eyes shut. She doesn’t deny it. And with Gojo Satoru, that’s all the same as admitting it aloud.
The thumb tracing around her clit finally smears over it. It’s like holding a live wire to her shattered nerves. Utahime almost lurches off the bed with a yelp that quickly melts into a sob when his thumb stays firmly in place – his cock continues hammering into her, grazing over her sweet spot again and again.
A now familiar feeling swells in her lower belly. Something that builds too quickly, too fiercely.
“Gojo! Gojo, I can’t – ”
“Yes, you can. Cuz you were made for my cock, right?”
Utahime’s fists twist in the bedsheets. Her feet plant themselves on the mattress and her lower body lifts, somehow both chasing and trying to escape the inevitable flood. The large hand on her stomach pushes her back down.
“C’mon, Hime. Cum on my cock.” Gojo’s thumb strums her clit and his hips shift.
The angle changes just slightly and Utahime nearly goes cross-eyed.
She cums in an explosive spray, soaking her legs and Gojo’s waist, and a high-pitched squeal. It’s no less powerful than her previous orgasm. Her whole body trembles as her inner muscles spasm and she continues gushing, a helpless prisoner to her own body. Utahime doesn’t even realize that she’s suddenly empty inside, the force of her orgasm so strong and her cunt so wet that Gojo’s slipped out, until he’s rubbing his cock over her to coat himself in her slick.
“There it is,” he croons.
By the time she’s finished, the spray dying in a dribble, Utahime is light-headed. Blood rushes in her ears and she focuses all her energy on breathing.
Every part of her feels numb.
She barely registers the hands gripping her waist, or Gojo’s annoying voice babbling at her, until she’s being flipped over. Utahime goes without a fight. She couldn’t resist even if she wanted to at this point. Face down on her mattress, limbs limp as wet noodles, she allows him to arrange her however he wants.
Gojo pulls her hips up and back so she’s kneeling with her forehead still in the sheets. Utahime’s legs shake so hard he has to hold her in place, otherwise she’ll collapse.
Gojo snorts. “That was only three. You can handle more than that.”
“Just,” Utahime heaves, “give me a minute.”
He hums, slotting his cock between the cheeks of her ass and sliding it back and forth. It glides easily, lubed up with her slick, but feels like sandpaper against the raw mess of her cunt and she shivers, knees almost buckling. He does it again and again and again. Teasing her.
Normally, Utahime would lash out. But she doesn’t have the energy for it.
She turns her face to the side so she can breathe a little easier and the line of her back softens, settling into the position with a low arch. Her legs feel slightly more stable after a few more breaths. Just as she’s about to give him the go ahead, she feels his cock drag down and catch on her gaping opening. Gojo’s hands remain on her hips as he pushes himself in, bottoming out in seconds.
There’s absolutely no resistance. She’s molten soft from the three previous orgasms and her cunt accepts the shape and size of him with a telltale squelch.
“Ngh…”
“Love when you make that noise,” Gojo hums, voice throaty.
His hips flex as he grinds into her, like he’s trying to shove his cock even deeper. But there’s nowhere for him to go. Every inch is crammed inside her and Utahime swears she can feel him in her diaphragm. It’s too much. He’s too much.
That’s never stopped him.
Gojo’s grip on her hips is bruising as he starts moving. His fingertips dig into her skin, blunt nails leaving their mark. Utahime barely notices it, the sensation buried under the clap of his balls against her swollen pussy and the way the head of his cock kisses her cervix with every thrust. Most men change angles every few seconds but Gojo, always eager to set himself apart, drills the same exact spot with the same exact speed and never adjusts until he precisely means to.
He’s bruised her insides more than once, left her sore for weeks more often than that, due to that single-minded intensity.
The back of Utahime’s neck burns hotter each time her cunt makes a loud sucking noise, her insides gripping him tight. Sweat rolls down her back.
It feels like they’ve been at this for hours.
Yet, Gojo continues on as though he could go for another twelve. Not even the alcohol seems to have dented his stamina. If anything, it’s made him rougher. Less patient. More impulsive. It’s like whatever thin filter in his brain is suddenly gone and he’s giving in to each and every single one of his petty whims, doing whatever feels good and getting himself off.
Using her like a plaything. A toy.
Then again, Utahime thinks, that’s why she invited him over, isn’t it?
The hands on her hips move, grabbing onto her ass cheeks. Gojo pulls them apart and makes another noise in the back of the throat. Utahime doesn’t need to look over her shoulder to know that he’s watching his cock disappear inside her.
“I’ve always loved your ass,” he says, squeezing her cheeks harder. “Love your tits, too. But your ass… No matter what you wear, your ass always looks so good.”
He groans, like he’s imagining something.
Utahime can only guess what it is. He makes a slurping noise and then something warm and slimy lands on her spread ass, right above his cock. Gojo spits on her asshole again and she tenses. One of his hands releases her cheek so his thumb can rub the spit into her puckered rim.
Oh.
Utahime grips the sheets and braces herself. There’s a bottle of lube in her nightstand – he knows exactly where it is. He makes no move to grab it. Instead, his spit-slick thumb presses insistently against the tight ring of muscle that’s never been breached. All the while, the rhythm of his cock inside her remains steady and punishing.
Gojo presses with more force and Utahime tenses further.
He grunts, impatient. “Relax, Hime. Open up.”
“I'm trying,” she pants.
It’s not at all like relaxing her throat and it's made doubly harder since she can barely think straight. Utahime does the only thing she knows, reaching underneath the length of her body. Her fingers spear through the thatch guarding her cunt, spread apart by his thick cock, and find the slippery pearl of her clit at the top. She rubs it with two fingers and gasps, stomach jolting, at the resulting shock of pleasure.
It’s so intense it hurts. She keeps going.
Gojo’s thumb pops inside.
Utahime gasps again at the burning stretch as it sinks deeper. He groans his satisfaction, the noise ending in something close to a short laugh. Her hand between her legs stutters and her inner muscles spasm. She makes a noise somewhere between a whine and a moan that, even in this state, she finds pitiful.
“What, you want me to take it out? Your pussy just clenched so hard.” Gojo’s voice is light, amused.
Utahime can’t form any words. Not when his thumb has her hooked like a fish.
She hears it before she feels it. A sharp crack that cuts through the air. It takes Utahime a couple of seconds to register the burn. Gojo slaps her again, right where her ass meets her thigh, and she yelps.
“Give me an answer, Hime.”
Slap.
“No!” Utahime squeals.
Gojo hums, smoothing his hand over her burning flesh to soothe the sting. “That’s what I thought.”
He pulls one cheek to the side again and turns his wrist, rotating the thumb in her ass. Utahime chokes. Her cunt squeezes him even tighter, making him hiss, and he redoubles his efforts. Each slap of his thighs against hers is like a shockwave through her body.
If not for the single fist she has in the sheets, Utahime would be scooching up the bed with every thrust.
Gojo’s cock plunges particularly deep, scrambling her insides, and her legs begin to shake. The pressure in her belly swells yet again but duller this time. It grows steadily instead of like an out-of-control storm; warmth spreads to her fingers and toes.
Gojo senses the change immediately. “Gonna cum again?”
Utahime nods and her fingers resume rubbing at her clit. She tries to copy the way he does it. Fast, hard circles that alternate with strumming. It’s close but not the same.
He chuckles, huffing, like he knows what she’s trying to do.
Utahime ignores him, teeth sinking into her bruised bottom lip as she concentrates. Even though his thumb is small in comparison to his cock, it feels impossibly large to her untrained asshole. Combined with the girth of his cock stretching her cunt, Utahime feels like she’s been stuffed too full. Yet, even that borderline uncomfortable sensation can’t disrupt the swelling pressure just below her navel.
The orgasm washes over Utahime in a slow roll. It’s far less intense than the previous three, but no less effective.
She gasps into her sheets, back arching.
Finally, the god stutters. Gojo wheezes, his rhythm faltering for a moment as he fucks her through it. Her cunt grips him so tight he struggles to pull out. It makes his cock scrape against every raw nerve inside her, dragging out the orgasm, and she bucks against him.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Gojo sounds winded, almost strained. He rips his thumb out of her ass – the startling emptiness making her choke – and grabs her hip again to start yanking her back to meet his thrusts. “My turn. Gonna cum right in your tight little pussy.”
It’s all Utahime can do to whine; she hasn’t come all the way back down yet. Her head is spinning.
“Fill you up. You love that. Right?”
“Uh-huh,” is all she can force out.
Something like a snarl tears out of him as he fucks into her. She can barely breathe. Each snap of his hips forces a little more air out of her lungs until she’s left open-mouthed and gaping into the bed. Her inner thighs are wet with her own slick and she feels some of it drip from her battered cunt onto the ruined sheets beneath her.
Gojo finds her sweet spot once more, muttering under his breath. She has no idea what he’s saying. But the nasty way he grinds against her tells her everything she needs to know. He’s erratic and messy and every bit of it is a purposeful choice.
He pulls her back against him, her ass slapping hard against his pelvis one last time, and breaks.
“Fucking…fuck, Hime,” Gojo hisses.
He keeps her there, ass pressed up against him as close as possible while he cums, spilling over and over again inside her. He always holds himself so still while buried up to the hilt in her cunt. Like he’s worried that his cum will trickle out too early if he moves.
Blood roaring in her ears, body throbbing, Utahime pants and gasps for air. She feels every warm gush inside her, a near alarming amount. Utahime would think he hasn’t cum in weeks if she didn’t know better.
When he’s finally finished, Gojo rocks back and forth like he’s trying to shove his cum even deeper. She can hear the way it gurgles inside her like an overfilled water bottle. That only seems to amuse him as he pats the curve of her ass and pulls out. His cock drags against every swollen, over-sensitive part of her and Utahime hisses.
Her cunt releases him with a sticky pop.
Something warm trickles out after him and Gojo groans, spreading apart her cheeks to watch. His obsession with shoving his cum back inside her rears its ugly head. Using two thick fingers, he smears through her swollen lips and scoops up every stray drop of his cum. He shoves both fingers back inside her, reaching deep.
“Gojo,” Utahime groans.
He ignores her to do it again.
“Gojo.”
“What am I supposed to do when you keep pushing my cum back out?” he huffs, like it’s completely illogical.
“I'm not.”
“Then how do you explain this?” He accents his question with a light slap to her sloppy cunt.
It's like dunking her head in a bucket of ice water. Utahime suddenly finds herself shocked into her right mind with the beginnings of a headache blossoming at her temples. Most of the alcohol has burned off by now, which means Gojo’s wiley charms are once again the bane of her existence.
“Call it a lapse in judgment,” Utahime bites back, falling onto her side. She grimaces when she lands in the giant wet spot and scoots further away.
Gojo waves her off, snorting, as he stumbles off her bed and begins collecting his clothes. “Yeah, yeah. Until the next time you're drunk and horny.”
Utahime grits her teeth, glaring at her haphazardly thrown pillows.
He's right. She should know better by now. And yet, the next time she's sad and drunk she'll probably end up doing the same thing – even though it's clear that even after having her brains fucked out she'll still be miserable. That suffocating weight on her chest will still be there, just decorated with scratches, teeth marks, and bruises. Gojo’s called her stupid and weak more times than she can count but until this moment, curled into a ball as her pulse slowly returns to normal, she didn't realize how right he is.
She’s pathetic…
Utahime doesn't realize she's started crying until a couple tears spill over and wet her cheeks. She sniffles, curling further into herself.
Gojo pauses in the middle of tugging up his pants. “You're really that upset about my thumb in your ass?” He frowns. “Message received. Won't happen again.”
“No.” Utahime scoffs and rolls her eyes. The urge to follow up with an insulting name – stupid, idiot, asshole – sits heavy on her tongue. She swallows it and it sinks down to her stomach like a lead ball, making her throat tighten. “I thought that… Nevermind. It doesn't matter.”
“Thought what?”
She thought he would make her forget to be sad. Make her feel less empty. But he didn't. She feels the same as she did before he showed up at her door and she wishes she never texted him in the first place.
“Nothing, Gojo,” Utahime stresses. “Just leave already. I'm fine.”
“Obviously.”
His sarcasm is like a slap across her face. Utahime sits up on her elbows, uncaring that he can see the tear tracks on her cheeks, and regurgitates the lengthy list of insults she just swallowed.
She stops short when he looks at her.
He stands there in the dark of her bedroom, khaki colored pants hanging loose on his trim hips, with his arms crossed. Sweat still gleams on his skin. The alcohol flush is gone now but he seems to glow anyway. Silver white eyebrows draw down over his blue eyes, filled with an emotion she doesn't think she's ever seen in them before. It looks like something eerily similar to concern.
“When I make you cry, it's tears of pleasure. Not…whatever this is.” He makes a vague gesture toward her. “I can't leave you like this. It'd hurt my pride.”
Ah. Of course. His pride.
Utahime rolls her eyes again. “Yes, because everything is about you.”
“Isn't it?” His lips twitch and he cocks his head.
“No.”
Gojo scoffs and continues buttoning his pants, like he doesn't believe her.
“I'm not crying over you,” Utahime insists. “I’d never cry over you.”
“Really?” He pauses again, quirking one brow. “Because it looked like you were crying when I had my cock in your throat – ”
Utahime’s neck burns. “That doesn't count.”
“Sure it does. And you were crying a few months ago when I made you squirt for the first time and – ”
“Shut up, Gojo.”
He shrugs his bare shoulders. “I would, but I feel like you'd start crying again.”
Utahime blinks, shocked. In the height of their argument, she didn't even realize she stopped crying. Her cheeks are warm and her eyes are dry. The frustration and humiliation are ever present, but no longer overflowing and threatening to leak past her defenses.
He tricked her into not crying.
Annoyed, Utahime flops back down and rolls over, facing the other side of her bedroom.
“Why are you mad?” Gojo asks. “You wanted to keep crying?”
Utahime doesn't answer him.
Moments of silence tick by. In that time, she takes an inventory of her body. Every part of her is sore and sticky, moisturized by an unholy lotion made of sweat and cum. Her abdomen aches. Her head hurts. Her throat and ass both burn. Her cunt throbs with her heartbeat. Every time she exhales, another glob of his cum oozes from her. She desperately needs a shower and a glass of water and fresh sheets but her legs are so shaky she doesn't want to risk standing up and collapsing – not while he's still here.
So Utahime waits for him to finish dressing and leave, like he always does.
She hears the rustling of his clothes and the near-silent padding of his feet as he walks around. He stops after a few moments, and she almost thinks he’s up and left. But then her mattress dips. Something soft, like one of her blankets, covers the huge wet stain on her sheets. She feels him crawl toward her and holds very still, unsure of what he’s up to.
Gojo settles behind her, pressing his still-bare chest against her sweaty back, and slides an arm around her waist. His chin rests on her shoulder.
Utahime stiffens. “What are you doing?”
“I'm tired.” He yawns, emphasizing. “Need a nap.”
“Then go to your place,” she mutters, resisting the urge to elbow him in the gut.
“Why would I when I'm already in a bed?”
“Whatever. Suit yourself.”
Utahime doesn't think she'll ever fully understand him. This behavior is outside of their normal arrangement and she doesn't know what to do with it. He never cuddles and he never stays. She never asks him to. They never pretend that this is anything more than what it really is, two people fulfilling a basic need.
She has to wonder if this is some sort of twisted manipulation for sake of his pride again.
A soft, low chuckle tickles her ear. “I can feel you thinking. Go to sleep, Utahime.”
“How can I when you're pressed up against me like that? You're suffocating me.” She nudges his hand away from her bare stomach but he just slides it back in place. “Also, I feel disgusting.”
“Hmm… We could take a shower.”
“Hell no,” Utahime scoffs. “I don't trust you.”
“Whaaat? I'm very trustworthy,” Gojo purrs.
“Said the cat to the mouse.”
“You do make a very good little mouse.”
“One more word and I'm kicking you out.”
Another chuckle tickles her ear. Then he exhales, chin still tucked neatly onto her shoulder while his hand cups her navel. It doesn't travel any lower. Utahime waits for him to try – because why else would he be snuggled up behind her in bed – but he never does. And at some point she must doze off because the next thing she knows, she's waking up.
It's still dark, far too early in the morning. Only a few hours have passed by her estimation.
Her headache has increased from mild throbbing to a jackhammer in her skull and she winces as she sits up to get herself some painkillers and water. It takes her a moment to realize she's alone again. The indent beside her is still warm and the hint of ozone in the air tells her he left just moments ago. Her bedroom has the musky stink that follows sex. Despite that, her bed smells like bergamot and cedarwood and leather.
And Utahime doesn't know what she finds more irritating – the fact that his scent will linger well into the next day, or that the weight on her chest is finally gone.