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Violet and blue colors swept lazily across the fraternity house, washing the room in different shades that made familiar faces blurs into strangers before revealing them again. Laughter echoes by the kitchen, music dancing across the walls, as distantly the choruses of cheers and beer pong rose loud giving a glimpse of youngsters in their fun.
Satoru Gojo lounges around the only empty couch with a bottle of non-alcoholic beer cradled in his hand. His legs spread wide, as if he owns the place—he does—his eyes dance around the house to different heads, possibly being the only person in the house who's still perfectly sober. Somewhere across the kitchen, he could see people making out, dancing shamelessly against one another, and if he squinted his eyes well enough, he could notice a possible couple arguing by the stairs as they exchanged heated words, swallowed by the heavy bass of the songs.
Too bad, the couple had chosen to take their argument further away then where he could eavesdrop, leaving him no choice but to take a sip of his beer rather sulkily. Even sadder now that he needs to go on with the knowledge of not knowing how that boy will react from the girl's accusation of him sleeping with her best friend. The taste of faint strawberries linger on his tongue, cool enough to ease the dryness in his throat, while simultaneously making him even more bored than what he has already been in the past hour.
Gojo's eyes shift quickly to the door once he hears the familiar tingles of the bells above, only to be let down for the second time in one night, when it was some random group of boys from the ice hockey team, dabbing one another as they meet their friend inside. It makes him pout more, eyes couldn't steal the sight of the door once in a while, as he waits for a certain someone to finally enter and ignites the party; and obviously him, with the sight of her alone.
“Waiting for someone, Satoru?”
Gojo turns to his best friend, Suguru, standing at the back of his lone couch as he too, eyeing where Gojo's gaze had been drifting back for the past hour.
“No.” He lied.
“Really?” Suguru doesn't even bother to hide his feign surprise. “Sure that you weren't waiting for a certain Miss President to make her presence known?”
“...no?” Gojo glanced back over his shoulder. What greeted him was the sight of an unimpressed Suguru with his hands deep inside his slack pockets, looking at Gojo like he was his kid, stealing the candy that he shouldn't have taken. “Okay, maybe I am.”
Suguru sighs a chuckle.
“You don't get it,” Gojo turns to look at Suguru, “she was so fun to tease, and her reaction from my words was so quick. You would've got it if you're on my place.”
“Yeah, sure ‘tease’.” Suguru rolls his eyes. “Last time you pissed her off, she slapped you across your face.”
“And it didn't even hurt!”
“That's because you're a masochist.”
“No. That was her showing me her kindness by touching my cheeks.” Gojo reasons. “She had very smooth hands by the way.”
Suguru blinked. Once. Twice. Before he mustered the best, most disbelieving tone of, “bro.”
“Can't a man compliment a girl's hand no more?” Gojo defends himself, an attempt too. “She had a smooth hand, and I liked to tease her. That's all.”
“I wasn't even talking about her hands.” Suguru brows scrunched, his tone accusatory.
“And I was!”
“Satoru!”
“Suguru!”
The bells above the door clings again, and this time when Gojo turns to look at the sight, it was the one he has been hoping for for the past 2 hours and 30 minutes; counting. His heart beating unrhythmically under his shirt with just the sight of seeing her, and she wasn't even turning yet to look at him, busy looking around the house, busy spilling those autumn gaze for other unworthy glances, lucky to be looked at by her. The only girl who had Gojo's attention 360°, pulling it so easily to her with a mere sight of her existence. Quite literally the only person who was so strict to him, while also being the only person Gojo's mind and body badly love to tease ever since he knew of her existence.
“Bro.” Suguru calls for the living body of Gojo, who had his soul snatched away. “Satoru. Am I talking to a wall?”
Gojo eyes fell to the signature shoes; the Mary Janes collection that his Miss President had with different colours. As now she had a pretty knee length light pink skirt, and a darker pink off shoulder dress, the shoes that she chose was a creamy white coloured, making the fit even more perfect and signaturely hers in every way.
“Satoru?” Suguru calls again, frustrated laying underneath his tone. “I'm asking you again, would your parents mind that their burgundy China had falls and cracks all over?”
“S' fine.” Gojo, with his soul finally found his body, replied.
Her eyes blinked. The pretty brows of her rise over the room, until they meet his, then, they scrunched, in that beautiful, perfect-like way that Gojo knows no other person had ever had the receiving end of, except for him. Her eyes shoot daggers at him, lips pursued in a way one would do when they tasted the most sour lime a tree could have.
But for Gojo, he all but smirked ever so happily for her attention.
“And it was beyond saveable,” Suguru continued, offering his worries. “Because if my memory isn't mistaken, it was your grandmother's welcoming gift, right? The one she ordered and they made exclusively for your parents welcoming home party-”
Gojo lifts off the couch, leaving the beer over the table as he slaps his best friend on his shoulder. “It's fine.”
Suguru doesn't look like he believes that. “Isn't it worth half a million?”
“It's cool.” Gojo grins. “Find yourself a drink, yeah? I have something to deal with.”
“I hope it's the China that we're talking about.” Suguru yells across the loud room when Gojo already took his steps away.
“Find yourself a drink!” Gojo yells back across his shoulder, not bothering to give his attention more to his confused friend, before he finally stands toe to toe with his favourite Miss President, Iori Utahime.
“You came.” Gojo says.
Utahime huffs, arms crossing.
“Is it because I called?” He eagerly adds.
“You wish.” Utahime scoffs. “I had no other choice, and my presence here was necessary, and it was because of the teacher wanting me to make sure you guys not doing anything stupid,” her eyes sends judgements all over the place, before the trial went back to him, “I would've avoided this place if I could.”
Gojo grins widened. “Find anything you like yet? Possibly anyone, Miss President?”
“You let a couple make out on top of the dining table?” Utahime deadpan, her tone accusatory, “really?”
“Let the kids be happy, Miss President,” Gojo cheekily winks, “loves in the air, who am I to stop the work of the universe.”
“The only thing in the air was stupid smells of men's cologne and terrible alcohol scents.” Utahime scoffed. “It's disgusting how every boy in here has the same stupid brand of cologne.”
“Except for me, of course.” Gojo trails by her side when she walks inside more, shoulder to shoulder, her bare skin grazes his forearm. “I had mine specifically in the scent of minty and sandalwood, something you liked, remember?”
Utahime eyes travel over the decorations, the little photos by the shelves; his parents, grandparents, cousins, and even a lot more collections of Gojo and his childhood medals. “Never said I liked them. I tolerated them compared to the rest of these stupid axe body spray.”
“Uh, uh,” Gojo shook his head. “You said the best combination of scent is mint and sandalwood. That was your words.”
Those judgment lacy eyes pull so strongly back to Gojo. “And why do you remember, huh?,” she cocks her head to the side. “You think changing your cologne would make you less different from any of these boys here?”
Gojo turns to face her, head tilted down, their height difference becomes more prominent than it was before. Her pretty cream Mary Jane meets the front of his Air Jordan, her head tilted up, brown eyes so furious, and lips pursued so upsetly; but all Gojo could see was an angry kitten, never the senpai that Utahime kept nailing in his head, time and time again. He blinks, leaning impossibly closer to her making them breathe away, his forehead barely grazing the soft hair of her bangs.
“As the favourite of Miss President herself, I ought to differentiate myself from the rest, shouldn't I?” He utters, head cocks to the side.
Utahime remains unbudge. As if the close proximity, the breath away distance unbothered her. Not even her words stutter, not even an inch she moves from the wooden floor. “You think you're my favorite?” She asks, challenging clear in her brown eyes.
Gojo smirks, as if he was being handed a plate of five stars Michelin. “In some kind of way, I am your favourite, aren't I, Miss President?”
He looks at her as if he was a bug bothering her. “How delusional can a mind be thinking you out of all people are my favourite.”
“You called me to stay back in class.” Gojo bats his lashes.
“To clean up the mess you created.” Utahime counters.
“You called me to the library.”
She scoffs. “To reach for the highest shelves.”
The corner of his lips tips up, “Could've used that little stairs they had.”
Her eyes studying him, from his eyes, down to the white of his shoes, before her autumn gaze meets him again. Looking at him so unchallenged and not even bothered once. “What's all these inches used for?” She mutters, shoulder nudging him, before Utahime turns to walk further into the other side of the house, where there's no people dancing around each other, instead those little Mary Jane's clicks away to the kitchen.
“Miss President,” Gojo calls for her, “don't run away from me yet, I want to show you around the house.”
Just like what Gojo expected, even if she heard him; Utahime acted like she didn't. Crushing her shoulders against other attendees, offering a small smile though her eyes showed just how unpleasant of her to see some couple practically having their tongue down each other's throat.
Gojo chuckles. “My dearest Miss President.”
“Shut up.”
He giggles more, rushing to chase Utahime before the waves of people decide to take the petals; that is her, wind away from his vision.
“Goodness,” Utahime couldn't hide the disgust of her tone when she walked inside the kitchen. “Take this unruly behavior out of this kitchen.”
The other teenagers flushed, tripping over their steps to no longer being the walls of Utahime vision.
Her eyes track down all over the place—half open snacks on the large, polished island, red and blue cups of drink, a carton of beer; plastic torn open. Somewhere near the fridge, Gojo notices his father's classic scotch with only minimal left—well, fuck him. He's so getting chewed by his dad.
“This is a recipe for disaster.” Utahime points all over the place, eyes meeting him. “Looking like a baby's tantrum all over the place, you at least need to have some willing people to clean this up.”
“Maids off duty.” He shrugs.
Utahime rolls her eyes. “Of course your rich ass has maids.”
“Your dad drives a Rolls Royce, Miss President.” Gojo is sarcastic all over the place. Utahime looks at him as if her gaze alone might shoot laser and potentially, end him right then and there. “But, I promised to clean it. Make it pristine and cute. Like me.”
Scoffing seems to be her favourite reaction, as Gojo received yet another one from her, to him. She crosses her arms, distracting Gojo with the sudden sight of her chests pushing up against one another, temporarily losing his working brain and parches up his throat.
Gojo gulps down the pooling saliva in his mouth.
Her head tilts to the shelves above, where Gojo had most of his father's wine collection.
“If you're ridiculously tall, you might as well be useful.” She says. “Bring me a bottle of red wine, if you may.”
So what if his father decides to ramble his ear off, it's not like that old man couldn't go out and buy himself some new one, Gojo noted mentally.
He chuckles, internally slapping his head from eyeing her chest, to listen to her and move closer. Inches away from Utahime, Gojo purposely leaned down just so he can have those flowery fruity scent of her perfume in his senses, while his other hand clicking open the shelves above from the lock, reaching for his father's favourite red wine with a single hold of hand. Still untouched. Still sealed, and still very much, will be Utahime's first taste instead of his father.
“You don't need to be so close, Gojo.” Utahime turns the other way, slapping Gojo with the fresh scent of her coconut shampoo.
He smiles, clicking the shelf shut with a lock, before bringing the wine bottle down, somehow magically before Utahime attentive gaze, he brings out two restaurant-like glasses. “Mind a drink, mademoiselle?”
Her brows scrunched. “The taste better be worth it.”
“Why wouldn't it be, Miss President.” Gojo clicks the bottle open, the sweet scent of the drink clouded his mind, bringing unpleasant taste on his tongue. “Ever heard of ‘Chateau Le Pin’?”
She shook her head, gaze fallen to his hands, where Gojo moved expertly around the glass and the bottle.
“Its a French red wine. A highly exclusive Bordeaux.” He says, sliding the glass to the only empty spot by the island. “It's famous for its tiny production, high price, and exceptional quality. Primarily from 100% Merlot grapes grown. It is also known for its rich, complex, and velvety texture. Many prefers Le Pin than a Pétrus. It's considered one of the world's most sought wine.”
Gojo eyes tilts up, momentarily surprised to see Utahime's beautiful warm gaze on him, rather than a glass before them. He gulps down, eyes so briefly falls on the cupid of her lips before he meets Utahime gaze back. “It achieved cult status after a perfect score from Robert Parker in 1982, and has since competed with the best Bordeaux wines ever since. It came with a high price due to its rarity and quality, yet true wine lovers know for the taste, the money is worth the bottle.”
Utahime lips parts. “You drink alot?”
Gojo shook his head. He felt breathless. “Not a fan of alcohol, but I like to learn about expensive stuff, backstories, why it's expensive and such.”
She huffs, a small, dimple smile flashes, that even if it's not on him, Gojo eyes trails down to the perfect curve of her lips. Her fingers trails over the flute of the glass, bringing the half pour red wine close to her cherry tinted lips. Her gaze meets him behind the mirror-like glass.
“You like learning expensive stuff?”
“Yeah.” Gojo agrees, sipping over the wine even when he has been avoiding alcohol since forever.
Utahime brings the glass to her lips, sipping the rich red wine before she hums. “What other expensive stuff do you like to learn?”
The rich, velvety taste of the wine nearly makes Gojo chokes over, all because of two reasons; wine isn't something he seeks out, and two, Utahime looks at him too attentively. Not like the way she always used to, but rather eager. Like she was interested in the conversation with him, instead of frequently making Gojo chase her.
Mentally telling himself he needs to cool down, Gojo flashes a small smile. The kind of smile that will make the universe melt, the specific kind of smile that makes girls fall to his bed years ago.
Gojo hums. “Example? You, Miss President.”
Expectantly, she rolls her eyes. “I'm being serious.”
“So am I.”
Utahime took another sips, curious gaze melts into some other kinds that he could not name.
Gojo slides his drink over the island top. The party is still on-going behind him. Rushes of teenagers, music playing in the living room, loud enough that the walls remember the melody. It was a busy mansion, still busy with people having their taste of fun, and here Gojo is. In the kitchen, and by the corner of the island was Utahime.
He decides to take a small step forward. Utahime unbudge, still having her back leaned by the island, sipping her wine like a beauty admiring the people by the stairs. He took another step closer, shoes clicking softly on the tiles, before Gojo crowds her slowly. Both of his palms lean on the island behind her, caging Utahime in between, as now they're chests away. The tip of her Mary Jane's is what stops him from leaning closer.
It was the closest Gojo had been with Utahime in all these past three years of knowing, chasing after her.
When Utahime remains where she is, unbothered with not a stuttering breath in sight, Gojo lips parts.
“What's there not to learn about you, Miss President?”
Utahime took another sip. The sight of the wine stains red over her lower lip pulls Gojo's attention quick—quick to look, but not quick enough to look away without catching Utahime's attention.
“For starters,” she mutters, “I'm not a stuff.”
“You're not.” He smiles. Small. “But you are a very exquisite, some type of a woman that never fails to intrigue people around you, Miss President.”
“Do I?”
Gojo raises a brow.
“Intrigued you.” She says, her words smooth like the red wine she sip.
“In more ways can any sentences be uttered, Miss President.” The words out before his mind can process.
Utahime grins. All menacing and teeth. “Is that so?”
“You threw your brown Mary Jane on my head the first time I saw you.” Gojo mutters, his eyes never shift away from her.
She resisted the urge to smile, taking another sip of her drink. “You remember the colour and the collection?”
“Like I said,” Gojo murmurs. “You're a very intriguing woman. And I'm curious about learning more.”
Her pretty dark lashes kiss the apple of her cheeks, dragging Gojo attention to them, before he notices Utahime leaving her half drink wine glass on the island beside her. It clicks soft over the top, as her fingers slide over the cold stone. Utahime's brown eyes fall back to him, her fingers sending shocks all over his skin when Gojo feels them skimming over his shirt, grazing over his long-sleeved arms, before her soft, soft palm cupping his cheek.
Utahime thumb rubbing under his eyes, as Gojo feels his brain and body couldn't work like a normal man with such a close proximity, close touches. The way her eyes studying him make a knot tighten under his belly, sending his inside into boiling of unnamed emotions.
Her lips pursed ever so cutely, before Utahime stood on her creamy white Mary Jane's and kissed him.
Iori Utahime's lips felt soft. Undeniably more softer than it looks, as the bombard taste of cherry and strawberry so apparent over their meeting lips, as distantly, Gojo can still taste the Bordeaux wines she sips. Utahime tastes heavenly, as she tilts her head to the side, deepening their kiss in soft eagerness. Gojo lets her set the pace, guiding her lips deeper, tongue prodding between their lips, as his hands grip the granite hard. He resists the strong desire of wanting to just wrap his arm around her waist and taking the pace to his measure. Gojo doesn't want to push her away. Doesn't want to scare her away too much, that will result in his long years of regret to ever do that.
So what if it means to push his desire aside so the pace will be hers to command? As long as it means Gojo has her, he doesn't mind what they do and don't.
Utahime sighs, nails trailing over his cheek as her lips parts, giving Gojo her silent permission to have his tongue mapping her wet cavern. Just when Gojo is about to deepen, laying his desperation bare, Utahime separates their lips.
“Slow down, boy.”
“Please.” The plea came out his lips before his mind could process. “Want it, it's not enough.”
Her eyes tilted up to him, thumb sliding over his lower lip as she pulled them down. “Just a kiss makes you this desperate, Gojo?”
“I feel more than just desperation for you, Miss President.” Gojo tongue touches the tip of her thumb. The sight of her gaze darkening his movement interested Gojo a lot, he didn't think twice before softly wrapping her thumb with his mouth, giving it a small suck. “I'll be so good for you,” he said, tone ever so softly, “I listen so well.”
Utahime huffs a smile. “You can't even listen when I tell you to not kick Nanami chair while you sit behind him.”
“That's different.” Gojo murmurs, taking off his mouth from her thumb, he nudges his nose over her palm. “This time, you wouldn't even see me not listening to you, please, let me have you. Let me kiss you again.”
Utahime dilated pupils do so much more than just undoing all of Gojo's desire for her eyes to feast on. It ignites the arousal that he has never ever felt in his whole existence. It burns while also cooling him, splashing his inside in different states of emotions.
She gets on her tippy toes, giving Gojo nothing but just a small kiss. “Where's your room?”
Gojo huffs a stuttering breath. “The other wing. Another walks away from here.”
Utahime grins. “Take me there, Gojo.”
And Gojo, through all the weakened bones and putty mind, had Utahime hand interlock with him. Softer to the touch, grazing between his much calloused one in such a normal way. As if holding hands with him is just another task in her little Minnie's notebook. But for Gojo, holding her hand is already equivalent to having the gate of heaven open as the pleasure awaiting him inside. Kissing her was the epitome of winning every fiery battle, when everyone doubts you to lose. And to have her opening up and asking him where his room was?
It already turned his inside static, and his mind refuses to comprehend more than just wanting to take her there.
Through all the mesh of bodies, intertwining cologne and perfumes, Utahime trails behind Gojo to the other side of the house. The soft clicking of her Mary Jane's behind him was unmistakable, the only sound Gojo mind rationalized on so he wouldn't lose his mind halfway at the thought of having Utahime in a way that only his countless amount of wet dreams only supply.
Once the sound of the heavy music and chattering voice leaving behind, Gojo took the step to the left where his bedroom stood alone, facing the lines of the garden outside.
“Is this where you sleep everyday?” Utahime curios were small.
“The only house I have until my father decides to move is that.” Came his reply as they took a step towards the large stairs. “Mom doesn't like big spaces that much,” he doesn't know why he said that, but the twinkling of interest in her soft autumn gaze when Gojo turns to look over his shoulder makes him want to continue. “She said large houses means lots of cleaning. She likes just the perfect amount of spaces and rooms that she can overview. Nothing will get past her vision that way.”
“I need to clear my day and have a tea time with her.” Utahime says. “We're more similar than I believe.”
Gojo chuckles at her words, though when he briefly glances at her, the small smile on her lips makes his heart race. “Definitely will tell my mom about your addiction to keeping things in order.”
Utahime shrugs. “What can I say, I like commanding and the feeling of people listening.”
His gaze lowered, eyes heated on her. “You do, don't you?”
Her eyes tilted over his face, looking at him so thoroughly. “I like the power behind it.”
He gulps, feeling his inside melts into puddles as the strong desire to unravel before her becomes even more unbearable. “Come on in, we're here.” He decides to say. Because he knew, if he ever utter anything more, he'll do nothing else but begs, and begs, and begs, until Utahime chooses sympathy and lets him ravage her in a way she likes.
When Gojo unlocks the door, he lets Utahime enter first, giving her the open hand to do what she likes without him being the one to push her into. If she wants to retreat now, Gojo wouldn't even blame her. The ball is on her court either way. If she ever wants to play with it, he is more than happy to be her teammate or opponent; her choice of ways.
And Utahime enters. Clicking soft Mary Janes in a space that never accommodates anyone. Not even any girls. Not even his friends. But somehow, the spacious room that is his bedroom feels as if it bends for her. Giving her the will to discover, to look around, to see for herself, the sole place where Gojo Satoru never let anyone in but her.
“Pokémon, Digimon,” Utahime trails over the stickers on the walls. “Transformers and a couple of Mickey Mouse stickers.” Her gaze finds him. “You liked them?”
He flushes, rubbing the back of his neck. “More of a brief interest.”
“You mean, your hobbies? Don't need to get shy over it.” Utahime smiles. “It's cute. Loud, mouthy Gojo who loves collecting stickers on his walls.”
“Those were old stickers.” He lied.
“This is the newest release from Transformers.”
He shrugs. She grins, continuing her path of discovery in his bedroom.
Utahime hums, fingers trailing over the walls before her hand settles atop of magazine covers on a shelf near the window. “Oh.”
Oh, fuck.
“Waka Inoue?”
He gulps. “That wasn't supposed to-”
She lifts the magazine, turning over the pages with undivided interest.
Through it all, Gojo's eyes couldn't shift away from her eyes. Reading through the pages; or really, looking through the images as words wasn't even the reason why Gojo had her magazines in the room. It was supposed to be hidden though. Deep on the drawer underneath it, with countless of his glasses and watches, instead of it being laid bare atop of the wooden shelves. Now his three long years of a woman whom he has been eyeing over see the kind of man he is.
He is a young man, after all. That doesn't make him any less embarrassed about it.
“She's a gravure model, isn't she?” Her curiosity was palpable, flipping through the pages.
“She had shows and some movies she starred in.” Gojo murmurs.
It lifts Utahime gaze from the pages of the magazines. Not angry, not upset, but merely lace in curiosity and a small smile tip by the corner of her lips. “But that isn't why you had these magazines.” She said, simultaneously shutted down all the wire inside his brain.
Every single mundane thing, such as flipping the pages of an inappropriate magazine is more than enough to steal Gojo's attention, shine it spotly on her.
“Oh.” Utahime folded the page, turning it to him. “A miko outfit. I had these back home.”
His throat parches. “You have the fit?”
“Grandma was a miko in the past,” Utahime turns the magazine back to her attention. “She had asked for my mother and some of my cousins to join, which they didn't. I found it interesting, so I spent a couple of my teenage years until early nineteen as a miko before I moved here.”
Utahime smiles, “Maybe I should ask my mother to send it to me here. Then I can show you how a perfect miko looks in reality.” Cheeky with a small smile, she adds, “maybe I might just replace your favoritism on Waka Inoue as a miko.”
Words failed in his mind. Nothing else seems to comprehend. “You'd do more than just replace her, that's for sure.”
She giggles, flipping through the magazines. “You're just saying that.”
“I would gladly throw all of her magazines if it means for me to have a single sight of you with the fit, Utahime.” Words spill before his mind can build. “No questions asked.”
“Then what,” Utahime's eyes swam in teasing glint, “you snap a photo, use it like you did with her pictures?”
The thought never crosses Gojo's mind before, but having her supply a bit of it makes his inside swims in folds of interest and underlying pleasure that seems to light up for her.
Utahime as a miko. She wouldn't give a picture perfect of innocence, that is. That commanding tone, that pleasant hums slipping off her lips when she's satisfied when people listen to her. Those calculated autumn coloured eyes—fuck, he's hard.
“You're so imagining it.” Utahime chuckles when Gojo flushes, shifting his attention in other ways.
“Hmm, me and her are more similar than I thought.”
Gojo turns to look at Utahime, how her eyes trace over the certain page, looking with so much interest. “Similar?”
Utahime nods. “The top.” She didn't elaborate more, leaving the folded magazine on the top of the mahogany drawer, before her fingers took a hold off her off-shoulder top, as she slid the pink clothes off her in one swift motion.
His mouth parts, tongue salivates as his eyes trails over her chests, hidden behind a lacy flowery white top. Transparent, with only tidbits of dark pink flowers decorated them, covered the nipples of her from his view.
“It's the same, isn't it?” Utahime words come out breathier. The temperature of the room swims in heats of tension. It no longer embraces in bearable coldness that it was before, now it somehow brings back the tension that they shared when they kissed in his kitchen, but a thousand folds more heated with unnamed desire and a drifted taste of pleasure.
“Fuck.” He mutters under his breath.
Utahime smiles. “Wanna see the matching panties?”
“Fuck.” He curses again. “Please, please let me see it.”
“You're so hungry.” Utahime clicks her tongue, fingers playing with the edge where her skirt zip was. “But because you asked so nicely, I'll let you see it for yourself.”
Undone the zipper of the skirt, it falls so gracefully over her thighs, before it pools over her toes. Gojo mouth parts, he couldn't stray his vision away from the small lacy white panties she had, with little flowers over the crotch, leaving other pieces of her skin bare to see.
“God, Miss President, let me touch you,” Gojo begged. “Let me- let me kiss you, please, fuck, please.”
Utahime's smile was menacing when she lifted her fingers, offering him a come hither motion which was quick to move Gojo like a puppy with its leash around his neck. He didn't waste time, basically melting into puddles when Utahime fingers coursing through his hair, as their lips met into clash of unlid arousal, and needs of desire. If their kiss was passionate before, this feels like a total turn over, judging just by how hungry her kiss was, how desperate Gojo lips is, chasing over the taste of her mouth, leaving the trace of him all over.
Her palm warms his cold hand when he feels Utahime's thumb soft over his calloused fingers. It makes Gojo groan when she brings his hand to her laced covered breast, giving him the time to playfully squeeze the subtle fat of her breast, spilling between the grip of his fingers.
“Touch me.” Utahime mutters between their desperate lips. “Take a hold of me, touch me everywhere.”
Gojo doesn't wait for another second before he trails both of his hands down to her thighs, cupping them in his grips as he lifts her in his arms. Utahime arms laces around his neck, pulling Gojo impossibly deeper into their tangled tongue, as she not so subtly grinds her front over the smooth line of his shirt.
When Utahime parted his mouth with a single drag of her thumb by his lower lip, she smirked at the sight of his dazed eyes, lips wet with their saliva, as a single line of their mess separated their lips like a spider web.
“You're going to make me feel good, Gojo?”
“Satoru.” Gojo murmurs, softly laying her down over his well-made bed, right atop of his still folded blanket. “Call me by my given name when I make you feel good using me.”
“You want me to use you, Satoru?” Utahime purrs. The dark tresses off her hair lay over his pillow make her look like an angel laying on his bed, her hair curls perfectly like a halo, while she looks like a sin birthed with her eyes so dilated.
“Fuck me, use me, command me like a dog, I don't care.” Gojo mutters. “I'll listen. I'll listen to you so well, you wouldn't even hear a complaint from me.”
Utahime moans softly, hardened his already rock hard dick behind the confined of his sweatpants. “What if all I wanted was to sit on your face, ride your cock, but don't want you to come even once? Would you still be a good boy to his Miss President, following her commands and all?”
“I will.” He almost whimpers, it's so unmistakably underlying beneath his tone. “I'll let you use me to your own worthy desire.” He murmurs, fingers trailing softly from her outer thighs, as his hands wrap around her Mary Jane's. Ever so softly, Gojo unbuckles the little clip of her shoes, sliding them off, the pad of his fingers brushes softly over her heel.
Utahime looks at him, eyes darken in desire as she leans her weight on her forearm. “My socks?”
“Keep it on.” Gojo utters, sliding the left side of her shoe. “I'll let you use me. Let my only wish for you is for you to keep this on.”
“Pervert.” Utahime whispers, smirk so apparent.
And his eyes matched her mirthful gaze. Sliding his hands over her dainty ankles, Gojo lifts her right foot to his chest, creeping them up, and up, before he brings it to the side of his cheek, kissing the side of her socked feet.
Utahime hummed, eyes never drifting past his moving lips, inches closer and closer, up and above, as the plush of Gojo lips grazed her calves, meeting the side of her knee, mapping his little kiss by her inner thighs, before Gojo knees between her spread legs. Face to face with her covered cunt, Gojo feels the saliva pooling in his mouth threaten to spill past his lips.
The sight of her pussy hidden behind those thin lace panties makes his eyes blacken, his strength crumbles, and all he wanted was to succumb between those luscious thighs.
“Take off your shirt and pants,” Utahime commands softly. “Wouldn't wanna get your clothes wet.”
In one smooth motion, the command; even if it was soft coming off Utahime lips, Gojo hadn't thought twice to slide off his shirt, untangling the knot of his sweatpants, before leaving himself in nothing else but a pair of black boxers, wet by the tip. His cock strained hard behind the fabric, begging to be let out and be used by her. But Gojo had promised. He promised to listen. And listen he does.
“You're so well built.” Utahime mutters, sliding her fingers through his hair, her eyes capturing each movement of Gojo making himself comfortable between her legs, his mouth inches so close to her covered pussy. “If only people know how desperate you get for a cunt, gone those tough guy reputation that you build for yourself.”
“I don't get desperate for anyone else.” Gojo kisses the side of her inner thighs, so close to where he wants his mouth on. “I never feel this amount of desperation until you, Miss President.”
Utahime chuckles. “Don't need sweet talks, Satoru. I already had my legs spread for you.”
“Not a sweet talk.” He sounds almost sulky, even to his own ear. “I never let anyone play me around like you do.”
“Hmm.” Utahime sighs. “You make me so wet from looking at me so pathetically like that.” She trails her hand to his cheek, lightly giving him a small slap. “Play with my cunt with your mouth, just from the outside. Don't take off my panties yet.”
“But I wanna taste.” Gojo feels disappointed in his tone.
“So, you can taste it from the outside.” Utahime smirks. “Make me feel what that pretty mouth can do, I'll let you taste it with no barrier in sight.”
And like a desperate Utahime hungry that he is, Gojo broadens his tongue over her cunt, tasting the little taste where her juices darken the fabric.
“Fuck.” She curses.
Gojo took it as a sign of encouragement. His eyes refused to move away from the look on her face, how it morphed into soft pleasure looks, and small moans that made his dick impossibly harder, dripping precum through the fabric. Gojo kissed through the lace of her thin panties, mouthing her pussy lips, sucking every bit of the essence of her he could taste on his tongue, swallowing them down, marking his throat to the taste of Utahime. Her clit becomes more apparent to notice between his desperation over her cunt, tongue playing with her clit, before he sucks it to her mouth, along with the unmistakable panties of her.
“Hah.” Utahime pants, fingers through his hair, legs spread wider for his mouth to savour. “You're such a good boy, listen so well.”
He never took himself as someone who would love to receive praises—hell, not a girl he had slept with in the past ever did so. But when Utahime pretty pouty lips, her breathier pants of calling him a good boy, Gojo wanted nothing but to take every words off her lips like a command, and eating her pussy even if it means not fully like he intended now, Gojo still groan when Utahime drips from his mouth again, succumb even more, practically thrusting his face further to taste everything he could have. His tongue trails from the tip of her clit, down to where he knows where the hole was.
It makes him look desperate, just the image his Miss President likes on him.
“Awe.” Utahime pouts, softly pulling his head off her pussy with the grips on his hair, “are you so desperate on wanting to fuck my cunt, Satoru?”
“Yes.” He pleads, mouthing her pussy, his chin wet with dribbles of his saliva and her mess combines. “Let me fuck you with my tongue, please? Just the tongue, I swear, I'll make you come so good around it.”
“So confident,” her gaze hazy as Gojo hums between each licks. As if he couldn't get enough. “Just the tongue, no fingers needed?”
Gojo shook his head, groaning when the familiar essence of her pussy juice sent his body fuzzy, once it hit his tongue. “I'll kiss it, fuck your pussy so good with it, swear on it.”
Her autumn gaze looks like the epitome of sin, dripping so sultry over his gaze. Utahime lifts her weight to her elbows, before her fingers trails over the side of her waist. Her forefinger and thumb both simultaneously unloosen the ribbon tie panties, twisted so perfectly by her waistline.
Utahime gaze never strayed far away from his face, and Gojo was far too drunk with the sight of her panties no longer covering her pussy, as Utahime pulled the satin off her skin with just a bit of a movement, leaving it on the side of the bed. Leaving Gojo to salivates like a fucking dog at the sight of her bare, pinkish pussy, with its lips wet in the mix of her juices and his saliva, the tip of her clit, down to her hidden hole glistening in juices. Wet, dripping all over, and all Gojo ever did was use his mouth.
Fuck me.
“No,” Utahime chuckles, “fuck me with you tongue.” She answers the words that Gojo hadn't realised he said out loud. Her fingers are soft as it meets the skin of his cheek, thumb rubbing over his brows before all five of her fingers push back his soft strands, falling over his forehead. “Be a good obedient boy, and eat my pussy like you're made for.”
And as the night sinks into a shade deeper, Gojo fingers grips over her plush thighs, bringing her body just a bit more closer to his mouth, before Gojo envelops her dripping pussy to his hungry tongue. The taste of Utahime; impossibly sweet with a scent of tang sends his mind dizzy. Each lick through her pussy lips, trailing his tongue down to her hole, before he teases her clit, makes Gojo grow more and more desperate. Utahime moans when the tip of his tongue teases her hole, licking off the never ending juices she spills for him, before Gojo thrust inside, her walls clenching around the muscle somehow making him groan almost even more pathetic than before. His tongue gives her a small thrust inside, before he properly fuck her like he promised to do.
Utahime wreaths over his tongue, as his nose nudges her clit, sending Utahime to an unspeakable amount of pleasure.
The room embraces with no other sounds but Gojo groans, and the combined wetness of his saliva and her juices dripping over his tongue. His mouth is desperate, urging more of her, as Gojo let Utahime grind her clit over his nose, while his tongue does nothing but chase the pleasure she badly wants.
“Fuck, Satoru you make me feel so good,” Utahime whines. Her fingers clenching over his hair, as Gojo never once slows down the pace of his mouth over her obscenely wet pussy. The lips grow puffy with every ministration of his sucks, her body trembles over his hands, as Gojo chases the undeniably, greedy wants inside of him, craving for the taste of Utahime coming undone over his mouth.
He knew it wouldn't be long; with every wreath, every whine, every rise of her voices, and cracks of her tones, Gojo chases the orgasm as if it was his own. Chases it as if it is all he needs to be properly buried and die for good.
So when Utahime back bows, her fingers grips impossibly tight around the strands of his hair, Gojo tastes the pleasure of her undoing, the knots unfulfill all over his mouth as her body crashes.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Utahime whimpers, as the knot never stops.
The lower half of his face drenched with her burst all over his face, she squirts, and somehow Gojo can feel the tip of his dick no longer leaks, it leaves a wet stain over the top of his comforter – and God, she's doing more than just stimulating him.
Utahime gasps, softly pulling Gojo's head off her drenched pussy that he never once stops licking all over. “I'm sensitive,” she giggles, “you've done so well for me.”
The praise does more than everything for Gojo. He can feel his body grow warmth at her words, his cock begging to be let out.
“Good boy,” Utahime sighs, lifting herself to rest her weight on her elbow. “Such a good puppy, listen so well. Come up here.”
And Gojo listens. Inches closer to her, before Utahime crashes their mouth with one another in a mind numbing kiss. Her tongue greedy, tasting herself in his mouth, while Gojo deepen the kiss, swallowing each one of her moans from their tangling lips. The softness of her thumb parts his lower lip, thin line of their saliva leaving a small distance between their lips, as Gojo was to left but admires the sight of Utahime flushing cheeks.
She coos when he leans the kiss the corner of her lips, missing inches of her pillowy flushed lips. “You're so hard, aren't you?” The softness of her hand glides lower to the outline of his boxer, feeling just how thick and hard he is behind the confined of his shorts.
Gojo groaned when his lips met her jaw. His eyes closing at the feeling of her palm sliding up and down over his length, thumb teasing where she notices his tip has been leaking precum since.
“It's definitely going to take some time to make me fit this whole thick cock inside,” Utahime whispers, her words lulls of lust. “You're already making me excited at the thought of riding this cock, Satoru.”
“Fuck,” Gojo grunts. “I'm going to come at this pace, Uta. You're going to make me wet my boxer like a fucking teenager.”
“We can't have that, can we?” Utahime chuckles, sliding her hand inside his boxer, taking a hold of his length between the dainty of her finger. “I wouldn't want to waste it outside, when I can have you fill me with every drop of it.”
His mouth parts when Utahime lowers his boxer. He hadn't even thought twice, kicking off the short and throwing it somewhere behind him. His gaze finds Utahime menacing brown, tapping the empty side of the bed.
“Lay here for me.”
Gojo truly is like a lost puppy when he went straight and listened to her. Utahime giggles at his excitement, before she slowly rearranges herself, throwing her leg on the other side of his hip before she straddles him sitting atop of his straining cock. It lays hard, the tip glistening in angry red, meeting the linen of his stomach. Each one of its veins prominent with each slide of Utahime sliding her pussy up and down, she herself can feel it too.
“Fuck, Miss President, please.” Gojo begs.
With each slide of feeling her pussy lips spread open on his cock, Gojo grew more and more desperate, badly wanting to feel her small cunt wrap around the hardness of his dick. Just at the feeling of his tongue fucking her pussy not a moment ago give him enough realisation that Utahime would make him feel better than any other sex and fuck that he ever had in the past.
But Utahime, his dear Miss President, is anything, but not an avid teaser.
“But it feels good.” Utahime pouted, sliding her growing wet pussy over his dick, leaving her juices soaking him. “Your cock is so thick, Satoru, I don't think I need to be inside to make myself feel good.”
A tease or a truth, Gojo wasn't sure. But it'll be hell if it means he wouldn't have the pleasure of being inside her.
“I promise I'll make you feel so good if you let me inside, Utahime,” he whines, tears threatening to spill from the waterline of his eyes – Gojo never feels this desperate. “I'll fuck you so good, I promise to listen, just please, fuck, please, please, baby, fuck me. Fuck my cock with your pretty pussy.”
Utahime coos, “Aww, is Satoru so desperate for my pussy?”
“Yes,” he cries. The glides of her pussy against his cock do nothing but tethering him close to the edge. Close enough to make him feel slightly good, but not close enough to make him come. “I'm so desperate for it, I'll beg if you want me. Just please let me slide inside, let me make your pussy feel better. Let me make you feel good, Utahime.”
She smiles, sliding her hand over the hard of his pecks, before Utahime takes a hold of his dick around the small of her hand.
Gojo hissed at the contact, as she slowly lifted herself on her knees, bringing the of his cock, grazing his top over her entrance – his eyes never drift away from the tempting sight.
With a mirthful smile, her pussy wrapped around the tip of his cock, before she slowly lowers herself down, taking inches by inches, clinging to his dick in impossible tightness. “Mmhfm, f-fucck.”
Utahime moans, feeling her walls clinging to his cock with every slide. “F-fuck, you're so big.”
He couldn't concentrate well, head thrown back just at the overstimulation of her cunt taking every inch of him inside. It feels too much. It feels like thousands of waves and storms colliding inside of him, that when Utahime fully takes his length inside, her soft asscheeks meeting his hips – Gojo comes.
It catches Utahime by surprise, her brows raise, “Satoru-”
“Fuck.” Gojo flushes, blinking the tears off his eyes. “I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, Utahime. It's just- it feels good. Too good- I- I can't think, fuck, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry.”
“Its fine-”
“It's not.” Gojo cuts, feeling deeply embarrassed from all the promises he vowed to keep. “I shouldn't come yet. I should've- should've made you feel good. I- I didn't listen to you-”
“Satoru-” she begins, but he was too lost in some kind of state inside his mind.
“I couldn't listen, fuck, I can't even-”
Softly with the soft of Utahime hand against his cheeks, she whispers her words, “I'm not mad at you, Satoru. I never am.”
It earns Gojo a choke whimper, he swallows, eyes blinking stay unmoving on hers.
“I am surprised, yes,” she continues, “but I'm not even the slightest mad at you. You caught me by surprise by coming inside me,” she chuckled; Gojo flustered, “lucky for you, and maybe for both of us, I've been on birth control for years. Else, a couple months from now, we might just have little me's or you running around.”
His cock twitches inside of her — it catches Utahime attention too, something that Gojo wishes it didn't. Somehow it sink deep into a cold realisation that he never associated himself with – a fucking breeding kink. Because since when; when did Gojo Satoru ever practice unsafe sex in the past, but somehow with Utahime now, he could forget about the condom that safely kept inside his bedside drawer, and now the thought of impregnating her turns him on?
And judging by the glint of interest in Utahime dilated pupils, she wasn't as different either as she chooses to prod more onto Gojo recent realisation. “Oh? Do you like that thought, Satoru?” She purrs in a way that makes his inside melt, his cock hardens even more.
“I-” Gojo can't even figure a lie in an instant. “It's not-”
“Do you like the thought of filling me full of your come, Satoru?” she lulls. “fucking me again and again, making me taking each drop of you inside my womb? You like that?” She teases.
Slightly Utahime lifts herself on her knees, giving Gojo no other enthralled sight, but the view of his come leaking off her pussy, white, pearly drops around his thick girth. “Fuck.” He said between clenched teeth.
“Oops.” Not an ounce of regret behind Utahime's seductress act. “Accidentally leak it. Maybe you can fill me more with them, fuck me full of them like the good boy that you are?”
“Yes.” Gojo swallows, fingers clenching hard over his own comforter. His dick instantly grew harder, as if the refractory period became nonexistent. “Yes, please. I'll make you feel good.”
She smiles. “Then ask for it. Nicely.”
“Can I please, please, fill you full of my come, Miss President?” Gojo eyes shine at her, Utahime unhooks her bra between his pleas, throwing the bra somewhere behind her. “I've been such a good boy for you, I listen to you so well too.”
“So you wanna fuck me as a reward?”
Gojo shook his head.
“No,” he gulps down the pooling saliva. “I want to make you feel good. I've made you feel good with my mouth before, I just want to be so good to you, that you wouldn't need to move a single finger to feel your satisfaction. I'll listen, and make you feel thoroughly pleasured.”
Utahime cups both or her breasts in her palm, thumb rubbing softly over her pert nipples, as the pale skin spills between the expanse of her fingers. She cocks her head to the sight, softly riding Gojo's cock without giving any of them a single satisfaction.
“Then,” she murmurs, sliding her hands off her skin, sharp nails trails over the polished of his abs, before Utahime leans and whispers in his ear. “Fuck me like the good fucking boy that you are for me, baby. Make me feel good in your ways.”
In one soft clenches over Utahime waist, Gojo lifts Utahime, temporarily pulling her sweet cunt off his dick, before he lays Utahime on the bed. His hands eager to touch her everywhere, but Gojo was too lost in seeing the sight of pre pre-drop of his come glistening over her pussy lips, as he took his straining length in a calloused jerk, before Gojo thumbed the tip of his cock inside Utahime welcoming pussy.
It took her by a soft moan, as Gojo groaned. The feeling of her inner walls tight, clenching to ever veins and thickness of his melts Gojo mind and body simultaneously.
“Fuck, yeah.” He grunts, eyes unmoved from the sight of her swallowing every inch of him inside.
It feels like a taste of paradise and hell in one sitting, just by feeling her cunt and seeing her delirious look of pleasure. That Gojo keeps a small hold over the back of both of her thighs, slowly folds her knees to the side of her ears, before he starts to pick up his thrust inside of her.
Rhythmic, the sound of his hips meeting her ass between each pump of his cock. Gojo chases the high, fucking her with every single pent up emotion he had bottled up for her.
“G-good boy,” Utahime whimpers, her lips smiling between the sound of their skin on skin clapping. “Such a good fucking boy. You fuck me like- hah- ffuck, l-like a dog in heat.”
Utahime slaps him on his cheeks. It makes Gojo pistoning his cock harder inside Utahime cunt rather than send his body in a signal of pain.
“You're so pathetic,” she continues. Her plush breasts bounces hard between each fucks of his cock. “Getting off on b-being used by me.”
“Y-yes,” Gojo blinks the sweat trailing down from his brows to his eyes. “I'm your good b-boy.”
“Good puppy.” Utahime gasps between whimpers when Gojo brings her legs to his shoulder, holding her calves between his grips as his hips find a new, menacing rhythm. “A good boy, w-who, hmm- wants to see me walking a-around with his pathetic come.”
“Fuck, Satoru!” Utahime back bows when the tip of his cock grazing so close to the gummy side that somehow makes her legs tremble. “Keep fucking me, keep fucking me, keep fucking me- fuck!”
“Uta- shit.” Gojo curses when her pussy clenches around his cock, her cunt sprayed all over his lower body, to the point where he can taste it on his lips. His thrust never falters, Gojo proceed to fuck between each burst, the strong clenches of Utahime walls around his dick, while he chases more and more pleasure that he know he can loosen the knot off her.
She was a sight of a wet dream – legs trembling, pussy so wet in glistening his hips and dampening the bed, how Utahime between each screams still swallowed down his cock in her tight, drenching pussy.
“Pull out,” Utahime sounds delirious, her lips grinning.
“But Uta-”
“Fuck me on my hands and knees.” She says in an instant, already turning her body in such a seductive position. With the cinch waist and soft curves off her ass, Gojo knows he can jerk off on sight without even needing to be inside her. That's how seductive she is.
“Come on, boy,’” she wiggles her ass. “Take my pussy from here. Fuck me deep with that thick, fat useless cock of yours.”
His angry dick twitches in his hand, before Gojo tip down and thrust his length fully, without even needing her to accommodate him.
“Oh fuck.” Utahime curses, while Gojo grunts at feeling himself sinking impossibly deeper from this position. “Pull my hair,” Utahime's words stutter between each pump of his cock. “Pull my hair and fuck me like the good boy you are.”
No words left to exchange since then, as the walls become the witness of their traded whimpers and groans. The sound of skin on skin clapping, the dribbles off her pussy, and squeaky sound of Utahime cunt between each harsh pace of his dick inside, clinging to the room. Utahime fingers clenches over the metal end of his bed, while Gojo moan between each fucks of his cock inside of her, Utahime hair still grip between his fingers.
“I'm gonna come,” Gojo murmurs on her cheeks, his hips plunging forward. “Please, Utahime, can I come?”
Utahime tosses her head back, gaze dizzying with the gleaming smile never once left her lips. “Where?”
He flushes. His mind couldn't comprehend a single word, when Gojo himself could feel, all he needed was one last thrust to get where he wanted. So unbashfully, he stammers out, “Can I come inside you, please?”
“Good boy,” she purrs. “Now fill me up, baby.”
And his body follows her commands, as Gojo bites the soft lines of her shoulders to slow down the sound of his moans, while his cock spurts every drop of come, so much more than the usual he associates himself with. It feels unending, how it keeps on going and going, how he himself can feel the bits of his come slips pass where they intertwined, dribbling down in thick squelch on the bed.
It feels like something out of a porno, how he can see it for himself how his come was lot enough that is equivalent of a two men.
“Are you good to keep going?” Utahime asks, carding her fingers through his sweaty hair.
Gojo can feel the sensitivity heighten just at the feeling of Utahime not so subtly grinding her pussy over his dick once he pulls out. His cock wet, slapping over Utahime's gleaming asscheeks. He should stop, this was already too much.
But Gojo can't feel the need to stop boiling inside him at all, as he leans his chin over her bitten shoulder, nodding his head. “Yes.” He murmurs.
All she gives him is a menacing grin, before her dainty hand wraps around his wet, oversensitive cock, jerks him that makes Gojo toes curl and he moans pathetic, before she slides it back inside of her dripping cunt.
And Gojo listens.
When he fucks her hard, Utahime chokes a ‘what a good fucking cock, Satoru.’
When he grinds the tip of his dick inside, Utahime grips the back of his hair, pulling them, before she murmurs, ‘use that pathetic cock, baby. I don't care that you've come.’
And she didn't care once.
Utahime rides him right away when Gojo had just filled her pussy full with his come. He whimpers and cries, but he can't lie that he liked the pain that it feels when Utahime slaps him and tell him to fuck her harder.
He can't stop – he doesn't even want to.
And being Utahime's good boy feels better than anything, that when she lifts herself off his cock, pathetic drops of his come shines over her pussy lips, while his whole cock trembles in sensitivity, he just groans as she slides down again.
When Utahime whispers about wanting to sit on his face while she cleans off his cock with her mouth, Gojo swallows his cries, blinks off the tears, he opens his mouth like the good boy that she trained him for.