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its-luna-noel · 19 days ago

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love hangover | gojo x reader

Gojo only ever does casual. You've always been onboard.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, f!reader, friends with benefits, roommates, mentioned partying/drinking, oral (m! & f!receiving), casual relationship, eventual one-sided pining

word count: 5.5k

masterlist | link to ao3

When you walk into your apartment, you’re met face-to-face with an equally disheveled girl, leaving in the glow of the morning after.

You blink at her, lashes thick with last night’s mascara; you can see her eyeliner smudged on her waterline. You’re mirror images of each other, two walks of shame looking at each other and thinking oh fuck, is that what I look like?

You hold the door open for her, and she brushes past with a little wave. Then you shut the door behind her, turning the deadlock, and the apartment falls quiet.

You drop your heels by the front door. “Gojo!” you call as you hang up your coat.

The only response you get is a muffled groan from down the hall. You roll your eyes before walking further into the apartment, towards your bedroom.

You stop at his bedroom door, knocking loudly enough to wake him back up. “Hey! Doordash some breakfast for us.”

You hear another groan through the door. You can’t hear exactly what he grumbles, but you think you make out, “ So annoying… ”

“I’m gonna shower,” you tell him, before turning away and shutting yourself in your bedroom.

You peel off your clothes, leaving a trail behind you as you head towards your attached bathroom. You don’t even want to look at yourself in the mirror, to see the bleary redness of your eyes and the leftover makeup from the party last night. But you do, and you take a makeup wipe and remove the proof of your messy night, your messy habits, your messy life. Then you brush through knots in your hair, grimacing as you rip through, and it’s not the soft self-care you’d like, because you’re too goddamn hungover to care.

Then you step under the stream of too-hot water, closing your eyes as you tip your head back and wet your hair.

You stay like that for several long moments, breathing in the steamy air, letting it soothe the exhaustion that you feel all the way down to the soles of your feet. You softly sigh and open your eyes, reaching for your shampoo bottle.

As you pick it up, the hooks of the shower curtain shriek against the metal rod as Gojo rips the fabric aside, and you yelp and drop the shampoo as he grins down at you.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets. “Don’t be so clumsy.”

You glare at him, wanting desperately to swat him away, but you just growl under your breath and bend down to pick up the shampoo bottle, tutting when you see the cap popped open and some of the product already leaking down the drain. “This is expensive,” you grumble.

Gojo just grins a little wider, eyes watching your every move. He’s standing there naked, and you try not to let your eyes wander. “You know what they say about dropping the soap,” he says.

“I thought you were supposed to be getting us breakfast,” you reply, ignoring his baiting comments. You know he just wants to get under your skin, and you also know rising to his taunts only makes it worse.

“I did.” He steps into the shower behind you, the metal hooks singing once more as he closes the curtain. “But they’re busy; won’t be here for an hour.”

You groan, pouting at his words. All you’re craving is some delicious waffles drenched in syrup to help cure your hangover. “And so to break the news, you decided to come give me a heart attack?”

He flashes another charming smile. “Well, I didn’t really want to scare you that bad; I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Yeah, well, don’t do that again.”

“Even if I have really, really good intentions?”

“You never have good intentions.”

His smile takes on a taunting edge once more, and he takes a step forward, towering over you as he enters your personal space. “I always have good intentions, sweetheart.”

You can’t help it; your eyes finally do start to wander as he gets closer, the heat of the shower mixing with the warmth of his body to create a heady mix of sensation that has an insatiable hunger inside of you flaring up.

An insatiable hunger just for him.

Gojo leans down, a familiar glint in his eyes as he watches you appreciate him; he’s used to it, used to eyes roaming down his perfectly cut chest, to the chiseled muscles of his abdomen, to the angles of his hips…

To the beautiful fucking cock, already growing hard at the sight of you under the stream of hot water.

But he’s not used to the way your eyes flicker back up to meet his, like that’s where you want to look before he takes you. He’s not used to the way you relax once you meet his dazzling blue gaze, how you melt into his chest and let him wrap his arms around you.

He’s not used to anyone taking comfort in him.

He smirks down at you, one hand sliding over your wet skin, skimming your waist to rest on your hip. He grips the flesh there. “What’s wrong, huh? Didn’t have a good night?”

You raise your chin indignantly. “I had a fine night.”

He raises an eyebrow playfully. “Oh yeah? Just ‘fine,’ huh? That doesn’t sound particularly exciting, sweetheart.” His hand slowly trails lower, following the outer curve of your thigh.

Your breathing is already starting to hitch. You can see in his eyes that he notices, can see the delight in their depths, the knowledge that he’s already got you right where he wants you. His expression is nearly predatory, and yet here you are, not even running, not even making it hard for him to hunt you down.

He leans in, his breath brushing the side of your face, making you shiver, even in the steamy space of the shower. “Did he not make you feel good? Leave you wanting?” His fingertips trail over the swell of your thigh, trailing up the sensitive skin.

You tilt your head back, shutting your eyes. “Maybe. What’s your excuse? Your night not good, either?”

He grins against your ear, nipping at the lobe. “I always make it good.”

And fuck, if you don’t know he’s telling the truth.

Your breath catches as his fingertips brush between your swollen lower lips, and he playfully huffs when he feels just how fucking wet you are for him, how worked up you are at just these teasing touches. “God,” he says, shaking his head, “you need to raise your standards, sweet girl; somebody leaves you this worked up, and you just let them?”

You whimper softly as he pushes a little further, one finger barely stroking the weeping entrance to your cunt. “What’s your excuse?” you repeat, breath becoming increasingly jagged as you reach forward and brush your fingers against his growing arousal, feeling just how hard he is here with you. “You can’t tell me that pretty girl didn’t satisfy you.”

His free hand comes to catch your wrist, ripping your touch away from his throbbing length. He pins your hand against the cool shower wall, and he chuckles quietly at your words. His lips brush your ear before he murmurs, “Maybe I just like you, sweetheart.”

God, he’s a cruel bastard.

His fingers start to move, gathering your slick before spreading it across your swollen clit, lubricating the sensitive bundle of nerves before rubbing light circles with gentle pressure, just enough to make your hips buck into his hand.

“Gojo,” you whimper, and the rough chuckle you earn in return just makes more heat pool between your legs as he continues to rub your clit. He doesn’t grace you with a response; he just continues to work you in the way he knows you like. He picked up on the secrets of your body quickly, and now he uses every ounce of that knowledge to have you trembling against the shower wall, one hand still pinned next to your head, the other gripping at his shoulder with desperate force.

He croons mockingly, that cocky fucking smirk still curling the corners of his glossy pink lips when his fingers slowly, achingly slowly, start to push inside you. “So desperate for it, holding onto me like that. You want me to make you feel good, sweetheart? Want my fingers so fucking deep in this pretty pussy? Tell me you want it.”

You whine softly, head tipping back against the wall, and your breath is starting to come heavier, your chest tight as you breathe in steamy air, every shuddering breath getting shallower and more labored. “I want it,” you pant, and so he pulls back his fingers, his thumb brushing against your clit before he pushes in once more.

He’s still moving so fucking slowly, and you want to command him to move faster, to stop teasing you, but you know he’d just smile and slow down even more, just to torture you. So you keep your mouth shut, instead gasping his name every time his fingers dive back inside you, long fingers curling against your tight walls while your slick starts to drip down his hand.

You shiver when he groans in your ear. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re gripping my fingers so fucking tight. You need it that bad? He really did you dirty, huh? That’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ll make this pretty little pussy cum, and then you’ll feel all better, yeah?”

You moan softly and nod, your lips pouted beautifully as you gaze into his pretty blue eyes, and he wants to devour that mouth, wants to taste every corner, wants to put that mouth to use. But he just continues to smile, watching you watch him, while he strokes his fingers inside you. “Yeah, that’s what you want?” he continues, his voice quiet and teasing, right in your ear because he knows just how wet it gets you when he talks to you like this, when he speaks filth to you while you clamp down around his fingers. “Say please, sweetheart; I don’t work this hard for ungrateful little girls.”

“Please,” you whimper, hips starting to buck against his hand, riding his fingers to force him that much deeper inside your dripping cunt. “Please.”

He should discipline you for that, but he decides against it; even he’s not cruel enough to deny you when you’ve clearly been left on edge since your worthless little hookup last night. Instead, he picks up the pace, pumping his fingers inside you, his body caging you in against the shower wall as he fucks you with his hand, watching your eyes roll back as you cry out every time he hits your g-spot.

“Gojo,” you gasp, your hand on his shoulder tightening until your nails dig into his deltoid. “I’m– I’m– I’m gonna cum–”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, grinning against your ear and kissing the hollow behind your jaw. “You wanna cum for me? Wanna cum on my hand?”

You nod again, this time with fervent desperation, head tipping back against the wall as you squeeze your eyes shut. Each time his fingers curl into your spongy g-spot, your pussy flutters, and a white-hot coil begins to tense in your belly like an inferno. Your moans stumble from between your lips, caught on waves of breathless pants as you call his name. “Oh my god, Gojo, please–!”

He thinks about pulling away at that moment, leaving you high and dry, just because he can only imagine the look of outrage and pure betrayal on your face his actions would bring. But, again, he’s not endlessly cruel – at least not for his friend and roommate – and so he just keeps up his pace, the heel of his palm rubbing your clit while he fingerfucks you right over the edge into your orgasm.

You cum so hard your knees buckle; it’s only his arm around you and his hand between your thighs that keep you upright.

He chuckles quietly and kisses the top of your head while you tremble and writhe against him, moaning his name and holding onto him tightly. Then your eyes finally open back up, and your walls stop spasming against his fingers, and he can see the relief, the euphoria, in your eyes.

“What do you say?” he asks quietly.

You want to roll your eyes, but you’re too wiped out from your blissful landing. “Thank you,” you say.

He plants one last kiss to your wet hair before pulling his fingers out, bringing them to his lips and brushing the flat of his tongue against them, tasting your arousal, your release.

The sight makes your pussy clench one last time.

He lets his fingers drop from his mouth , and he grins at you before reaching over for your shampoo. “C’mon; gotta get cleaned up before breakfast gets here.”

You make a soft noise of protest, lashes fluttering as you try to pull yourself together enough to argue with him. You reach your hand forward once more, fingertips grazing the veiny girth of his cock – still exceptionally hard after what he just did to you, and probably even harder now that he tasted what he did – but he playfully bats your hand away, smirking down at you.

“We’ll take care of it after,” he tells you with another playful grin. “I don’t want you hurting your delicate little knees on the tub floor.”

So you just sigh, grabbing your body wash and trying to avoid looking at his intimidating erection, so he wouldn’t start teasing you for your staring problem.

He’s got you on your knees in front of the couch when the food arrives.

He hisses through his teeth when you start to pull off, drool dripping from your lips onto his beautiful length as your gaze shifts from his eyes to the front door–

His hand grabs the back of your head, his hips canting into your mouth as he shoves you back down onto his cock.

You gag, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he hits the back of your throat. You look back up at him, and his teeth are gritted, head thrown back in pleasure as he begs you to stay still, his voice coming in soft whispers so the delivery guy can’t hear, “Please please keep going don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop just another minute–”

You shudder at the expression on his face, at his parting lips as he starts fucking your mouth, the soft, sweltering tissue closing down around his dick as you gag at the rough treatment. His swollen head bruises the back of your throat, and you want to beg him to stop because he’s never treated you like this before, but it’s also so fucking good to watch him force himself down your throat, taking his own pleasure from your mouth while somebody waits outside your door with your breakfast.

Another knock comes, and he growls under his breath, thrusting up into your mouth once, twice, and then he fucking keens and cums in your mouth, spurting ropes of heat down your throat.

You gag, not expecting it, and making a terrible mess as he lets you off just in time for you to cough strings of semen across your lips.

He pants for a second, shoulders heaving as he pets your hair. “Good girl,” he says, voice breathless as he pushes you aside and lets you recover, standing from the couch and pulling up his basketball shorts to go answer the door.

His voice is playful and lilting when he greets the delivery guy, as if he wasn’t just begging for your mouth. “Hey, man, sorry for the wait.”

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, trying to clean up the mess you made.

Gojo returns to the living room with a plastic bag full of to-go containers, and he grins down at you, taking in your still-dazed expression while you catch your breath, clearing your throat from the bruising aggression he took out of you. He laughs when you look up at him, and when he sits back down on the couch, he reaches for your face.

You pull back, frowning at him.

He tuts, waving you closer. “I’m just cleaning you up,” he says, and you decide he’s trustworthy enough for you to lean towards him, letting his thumb brush against your cheekbone where a stray drop of pearly cum landed.

He pushes his thumb against your lips, and you gently open, licking it clean and swallowing it down.

There’s a strange, soft look in his eyes when he praises you again. “Good girl.” Then his eyes roam your face, making sure there’s nothing left to clean up, before he leans back against the couch and pats the spot next to him. “C’mon, your food’s gonna get cold.”

You crawl up from the floor and onto the couch, tucking your legs under you as he passes you your food. You inhale, then sigh happily. “Thanks.”

“Welcome.” He reaches for the remote and turns on the television, quietly putting on the show you’ve been watching together in your free time.

You eagerly eat your breakfast, the sweet, carb-heavy food the perfect cure for your hangover while you sit next to Gojo, who is also eating with the kind of reverence only seen in the aftermath of alcohol-induced stupor.

Every time you swallow, you can feel the bruises he left on your throat.

It’s strangely intoxicating to sit next to him after such intimate acts, even though you’ve been friends for years and been having casual sex for months. But it’s different, right now, because he smells like your soap, like your shampoo, and a possessive sort of feeling starts to worm its way into your chest while you sit next to him, eyes trained on the tv screen so you don’t stare at the bare expanse of his chest, at the curve of his collarbones, at the angles of his jaw.

He smells like yours.

You shake your head and banish the thought; Gojo is many things, but the property of anyone, he would never be.

The next weekend begins exactly like the last one: with you and Gojo walking into a party together.

It ends with you walking out together, because none of the girls hanging off of him could live up to that mouth, and none of the guys watching you over their shoulders could live up to how good he made it.

There’s a tension between you, palpable in the air as you make your way back to your shared apartment, the cool night air sobering up your thoughts but not your bodies as all you can think of his how badly you need his hands on you, how badly you want to feel his heat while he makes you cum like only he can.

He can feel it, the electric connection between you, and so once you cross the threshold into your apartment he’s already on you, turning the deadbolt with one hand while the other shoves you against the wall and pins you there. His body is quick to follow, boxing you in while he towers over you, his breath warm on your face as he dips down to examine your eyes, to see how far gone you are.

“How drunk are you?” he whispers.

You shake your head, hands already trembling as they come up to rest on his waist. “Not very.”

He doesn’t even respond; he just crashes his lips against yours, grabbing your jaw with one hand and squeezing lightly, forcing your mouth open so he can lick heat into it. You guys rarely kiss when you’re together – you think it’s part of the casual nature of your relationship, or maybe he’s just not that big on kissing – but Christ this is heavenly as he sucks your tongue into his mouth, his lips just as dominant as every other part of him. His other hand grips your hip, squeezing the soft flesh over the bone and tugging you against him until every curve of you is mashed against every line of him.

You can’t hold back the soft, needy moan that escapes through your parted lips.

“So fucking noisy,” he mutters against your mouth, both hands moving to meet at the hem of your shirt, a revealing little thing you like to wear to parties. It’s off in a matter of moments, his lips leaving yours for only a second before they’re back on you with a vengeance for making him part from you. “You act like I don’t give you enough attention.”

You pant against his mouth, pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to his lips. “Maybe you don’t.”

He chuckles quietly, the rumbling sound sending heat straight to your core as his hands come up to palm your tits through your bra. “Maybe you’re just obsessed with me.”

You want to quip back, want to prove him wrong, but you can’t even speak before he lowers his head and bites down on your throat.

You gasp at the sensation, eyes flying wide, and your hands grip his waist a little tighter, nails digging into his lower ribs as his teeth sink into the soft curve of your neck. “Gojo,” you breathe, head tipping back almost against your will, because you’ve never worn his mark, you don’t want to wear his mark, you’re nothing more than friends who sleep together every once in a while…

Right?

He sucks and licks at your skin, leaving a light pink hickey behind before he pulls off. It’s nothing like the mark he wants to leave on you – dark and angry and something that will bruise for days – but it’s enough to allow him to move on and reach around behind you to unclasp your bra, further revealing your body for him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, hands coming up to palm your breasts once more, “need you so bad.”

And so you follow him to his bedroom, sinking down into the soft sheets of his bed and watching as he crawls on top of you, pulling off his shirt in the process and revealing his perfect torso for you. Your hands come up to trace the planes of his body while he unbuttons your jeans, tugging them down along with your panties in one slow, torturous movement.

Then he’s leaning back on his heels, unbuckling his belt and removing his own jeans, and you’re practically drooling over his muscular thighs, until he pushes down his tight boxer briefs and reveals that perfect cock you’ve come to know and love.

You want it, you’re nearly salivating for it, but you’re not in charge tonight.

He pushes you down under him, moving so his chest is over your hips, as he starts kissing his way down your body, tongue darting out to lick your skin and leave a wet trail behind as he slowly moves towards your growing heat. He’s good at teasing, and you’re already writhing under him, whining softly for him to stop playing games.

For once, he listens to you.

He settles between your legs, eyes trailing over you as he slowly takes in the sight of your body laid out for him. It’s definitely not the first time, but his drunken mind takes you in with new appreciation before he puts his hands on your legs, sliding up to grip your soft, fleshy thighs.

He wraps his arms around them, holding you open for him as he leans in, looking up at you through his lashes and watching the anticipation on your face while you wait for his mouth. Then he parts his lips, and he runs the flat of his tongue over your puffy, wet lips, and it’s already enough to have your breath hitching because the heat of his mouth is just so heavenly.

He wants to pull back and laugh at your reaction, but now that he’s got a taste of you he can’t leave without more, so he moves closer, burying his face between your thighs while he brushes his tongue up your sopping entrance until he runs against your clit, and you gasp at the contact, sparks traveling up your spine as you arch under him, begging him to work that spot until you’re cumming–

He moves his tongue away, and you huff in playful frustration.

He chuckles against you, but he pays no mind to your whining; he just keeps licking up and down your pussy, teasingly light while he watches you squirm, while he tastes you getting wetter and wetter, while he feels you drench his mouth and jaw.

Then, when you’re moaning his name and begging him to eat you out properly, he starts making out with your cunt, sucking on your clit and pulling away with wet, lewd sounds. His eyes flutter closed, and he groans against you, the vibrations sending a shiver through your body as he pushes somehow closer, his long tongue diving inside your entrance to taste you from the inside.

He’s still between your legs when he speaks next, his voice muffled by your slick folds. “I love y…”

Your breath catches, and you freeze, but he’s still eating you out, and you can’t think, did he just say he loves you? You’re gasping, hands coming to rest in his hair while you try to swallow and ask, “H-huh?”

He pulls away enough to speak, one hand coming to pick up the slack. “I love your pussy,” he repeats, his eyes trained on your blushing cunt, and he doesn’t even glance up at your face before diving back in and moving his mouth against you once more.

You breathe a soft sigh of relief, eyes fluttering shut because it’s clear you just misheard him. But what’s this, this tightness in your chest, almost a feeling of disappointment, because after all this time don’t you guys love each other, even if it’s not the love you maybe want–?

You cast aside the thought, letting it go, because you don’t want to think about love while the ever casual Gojo is between your thighs.

Your chest heaves as pleasure builds and builds, a fire in your belly as all your muscles slowly start to clench, and it’s a good thing he still has your legs trapped because you’re fighting to close them, fighting to run away from this because it’s just too goddamn good. But he’s got you pinned, and he doesn’t stop; instead, as your thighs start to flex, he zeroes in on your clit and starts moving his tongue in a way that has you seeing stars, and you’re gasping his name and holding his hair and begging him to keep going. “Oh, ah, Gojo I’m gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna–”

And then you do, and your body writhes under his mouth while he works you through it, watching the ecstasy on your face as you cry out his name. He can feel your cunt fluttering against his tongue, and it makes him groan one more time before your body relaxes into the bed, legs shaking in the aftermath of your orgasm.

He pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand because he’s a mess with your slick.

He finally lets go of your thighs, only to push them apart once more, hardly giving you a moment to come down from your high before he takes his cock in his hand and rubs the swollen, leaking head against your swollen, overstimulated clit. You jump at the contact, and he smirks before slapping your clit one more time and then pushing the tip into your still-recovering pussy.

Your lips fall open, and you can’t even moan coherently as he inches his way inside.

He’s big, and that fact never fails to throw you for a loop when he pushes into your waiting cunt. But this time, while you’re still coming down from your orgasm, it’s almost too much, almost too full as he stretches you open, your walls clamping down around him every time he dares to push a little further.

You feel every. Single. Inch.

Finally, he’s fully seated inside you, his blushing head kissing your cervix and painting it with slick precum as he lets you adjust to how full he has you.

Then he pulls his hips back, and then he’s fucking into you, all pretense lost to his drunken mind.

You wrap your legs around his hips because you can’t help but cling to him as he fucking rails you, the headboard knocking against the wall with how hard he’s taking you. Your cunt quivers around him, overstimulated and yet begging for more, and you can’t help but cry out so loud he has to press his palm over your lips, grinning down at you with strands of white hair stuck to his sweaty forehead.

“Noisy girl,” he pants, and he groans as you clench around him. He looks down, watching his dick disappear inside of you, a frothy ring of white arousal forming at the base while he fucks you, and the sight almost brings him to his knees. His eyes flicker back to your face, and he sees your eyes rolled back, his hand still covering your mouth, your voice muffled against his palm while you moan and cry out mindless words that sound a lot like his name.

He groans again, gritting his teeth, because god the thought of you chanting his name loud enough for neighbors to hear makes him want to cum right in that tight little pussy, but he doesn’t want this to end yet, wants to draw out this pleasure because it’s just too fucking good.

So he closes his eyes and tries to think about anything, anything but the way you feel clenching around his dick every time he hits your g-spot, anything but the way you sound, high-pitched whines muffled by his hand, anything but the way he wants to do this over and over with you until he fucks you stupid.

But he can’t take his mind off of you, and so instead of trying to distract himself, he picks up the pace, his hips pistoning in and out of you, noisy wet slaps filling the room as he chases his high, holding your hips up to hit your g-spot over and over again, feeling you tighten and tighten and tighten–

And when you cum again, shuddering beneath him, you milk his orgasm from him, too. He moans, forehead dropping against yours as he drags his hips in and out, painting your gummy walls with ropes of release.

When he pulls out, he watches your cunt flutter one more time, clenching around nothing as his cum slowly drips out of you and onto the sheets below.

He finally removes his hand from your mouth, and you’re panting, eyes squeezed shut as you try to breathe through the aftershocks. It takes you several moments to recover, but then you start shifting on the bed, starting to throw your trembling legs over the side.

His hand on your arm stops you. “What are you doing?”

You turn back to him, giving him a confused look. “Uh, going back to my room?”

He grins and pulls you back into bed. “No, you’re not. I’m not even close to being done with you.”

You let out a soft groan, and even you’re not sure if it’s out of excitement or dread for how he’s going to fuck you next.

You do not get back to your own room that night.

He fucks you until you’re both exhausted, eyes barely open as he collapses beside you with a soft oof. You just giggle quietly, and when he lightly smacks you for it, you’re already asleep.

You wake up before him, hungover and still dead tired.

When you open your eyes and look over, you see Gojo – your roommate, your friend, your…fuck buddy? – still sleeping next to you, an arm’s length away. He’s splayed out on his back, just like he was when he fell asleep, and you can’t help the small smile that comes at the thought that he was so exhausted he hasn’t stirred all night.

At the sight of him, at how enchanting he looks with his long white lashes casting shadows on his cheeks and his ever-glossy lips slightly parted, you can’t help but feel a pang of affection.

You also can’t help but remember when you thought he told you that he loved you.

And so to save yourself the pain of that thought – because Gojo only ever does casual, and he’ll never belong to anyone, let alone you – you slowly, carefully, pull yourself out of his bed and silently tiptoe out of his bedroom, hoping you can pretend you never slept in his bed at all.

thanks for reading! -luna xx link to ao3

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