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nomie-11 · 3 days ago

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Chapter 2 - One Hundred and Eight Scars

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The flight field at Basgiath is still and dark, and appears deserted when they approach in the hour before sunrise, hugging the landscape of the mountains, the riot doing what they can to stay out of sight.

“That does not mean that someone won’t spot us landing,” Tairn reminds her, his wings beating steadily despite having flown the last eighteen hours straight from Aretia. The window of time Xaden had given for them to get to the Vale without her being spotted is slim, and if they miss it, every hatchling will be put in danger.

“I still don’t understand why the Empyrean would ever agree to let dragons bond human riders, knowing they’d have to guard their own kids not only against gryphon fliers but the very humans they’re supposed to trust.”

“One, you’re projecting,” Tairn says, his voice a low grumble as he banks left to follow the geography. “And two, it’s a delicate balance. The First Six riders were desperate to save their people when they approached the dens over six hundred years ago. Those dragons formed the first Empyrean and bonded humans only to protect their hatching grounds from venin, who were the bigger threat. We don’t exactly have opposable thumbs for weaving wards or runes. Neither species has ever been entirely truthful, both using the other for their own reasons and nothing more.”

“I never thought I needed to hide anything from you.”

Tairn does that weird thing that makes his neck appear boneless, swinging his head around to level slightly narrowed eyes at her for a heartbeat before turning his attention back to the terrain. “You have nothing to hide from me, nothing you have ever done in your life has been morally wrong or irredeemable,” He says, his tone softer but weighted with something unspoken. “I can do nothing to remedy the last nine months besides answer your worthwhile questions now.”

“I know,” She says quietly, wishing his words were enough to cut through the acrid taste of betrayal she can’t seem to wash out of her mouth. Or maybe that was the constant stomach acid from throwing up her guts four times in the last eighteen hour flight.But she knows that Tairn’s bond to Sgaeyl was stronger than her bond to him, so the blame is fully on Xaden.

“We’re approaching. Get ready.”

“Can I do a rolling dismount?” She asks, gripping the pommel of his back tighter as she leans down. Her body is already screaming after eighteen hours in the ‘saddle,’ and her awful, constant headache. But the summer wind feels nice, and she bets that sitting on the roof right now would be amazing.

“A rolling dismount would tear you limb from limb on impact.”

“No it would not!” She huffed, rolling her eyes, which seemed to be her new signature move. “You know rolling dismounts are a second-year maneuver, anyways.”

“One that you will not be participating in.” Tairn grumbles.

“Why all of a sudden are you treating me like I’m so weak?” She groaned, annoyance seeping into her words as they spilled out of her mouth.

“Because you were poisoned by the most potent evil in our world and then decided by some miracle to live,” He dipped down, and she pressed into his back. “And no matter how good you feel right now, there is still poison in your system.”

Well, the truth was, she did not feel good at all. And she was going to practice honesty.

“I feel like shit.”

“You don’t say.” Tairn’s dry tone thrummed through her, tinged with a rare warmth that almost made her laugh. “And that’s why recovery is non-negotiable.”

“Recovery is overrated,” She muttered, stubbornly straightening up in her seat as they approached the final ridge before the flight field. Her bones ached in defiance, her head pounded, but she wasn’t about to let Tairn know she was hanging on by a thread.

“Oh really?” Train snorted, sounding almost amused. “Then prove it.”

With that, it felt as if something around her legs snapped open, and he tipped sideways in one fluid motion. She barely registered the movement before her stomach lurched, her grip slipping as her legs failed to keep her steady. She let out a shocked gasp as she tumbled off his side, the wind whipping around her in a dizzying rush as the ground loomed closer.

In a flash, Tairn’s colossal head appeared below her, his massive eyes narrowed in exasperation as she snatched her mid-air, pinning her back onto his broad back with a firm push of magic. The landing jolted her, and she groaned, too winded to argue.

“Still think recovery is overrated?” Tairn huffed, banking into a smooth glide again.

She glared at him, but her limbs felt like jelly, making it impossible to keep her dignity intact. “You didn’t have to throw me off!!”

“It’s not my fault you cannot keep yourself seated,” He chuffed. “Do you really think you held on all the way from Aretia? I had to keep you anchored with my magic the entire flight.”

Her mouth fell open. “You… you were holding me in place?”

Tairn snorted, his wings lifting them easily over the final ridge as Basgiath’s towers came into full view. “You were barely conscious for half of the journey. Don’t get cocky now.”

Heat flushed her cheeks. She’d been so sure she’d managed it all on her own. Flying had been an escape, something she could control. But the truth, Tairn’s truth, was a harsh reminder that she was at the mercy of her own limitations. Fuck venin poison, honestly.

Her stomach flips as he drops into the flight field.

“I am dropping Andarna off in the flight field with Astrape and then return and circle nearby.”

“You need rest.”

“There will be no rest if they decide to execute the nine of you on the dais.” The worry in his voice clogs her throat. “Call out if you even suspect it will not go your way.”

“It will,” She assures him. “Do me a favor and tell Sgaeyl that I need to talk to Xaden on the way.”

“Please hold on tight when we land,” Tairn snorts. “I don’t want you to go tumbling off.”

And that’s exactly what she did as Tairn splayed his wings to slow the descent, sending her tumbling down and over his shoulder to the ground. He laughs as she lands flat on her ass on the soft grass.

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles. “Love you, too.”

Tairn whips his head to the right, where Sgaeyl lands with brutal efficiency, her rider dismounting in a much more efficient and graceful manner. “The wingleader approaches.”

Xaden gives Tairn a wide berth to launch as he walks towards Genevieve, with Sgaeyl taking off next, followed by the rest of the riot until it’s just them left.

Lifting her goggles to the top of her head and unzipping her jacket, she groaned. July in Basgiath was muggy as hell, even when you aren’t locked away in a humid dungeon.

“You actually told Tairn to tell Sgaeyl that you wanted to talk to me?” He put a hand on his hip.

“We both suck at communication. Don’t act like you would be any better.”

“You remember that you can…” He taps the side of his head and walks backwards in front of her. She rolls her eyes and secures a dagger on her thigh instead of paying attention to the singular curl that rests on his forehead and how not even a week ago she wouldn’t have hesitated to brush it to the side.

“Talking that way feels a little too…�� Fuck, why is this so hard? Xaden is Xaden, not some stranger, so why does it feel as if the person standing in front of her is someone completely new and random. How has every inch of her trust been unwoven and destroyed and put her back on square one as the girl who believed no one. “Intimate.”

“And we’re not intimate?” He lifts a brow. “Because I can think of more than one occasion that you’ve been wrapped—”

She jolts forward and covers his mouth with her hand “We’re not intimate anymore, Xaden.” But the feeling of her palm pressed against his skin is enough of a reminder that whatever they had—maybe they were dating, maybe they weren’t, she never really knew—was physically perfect. Better than perfect. Addictive and electric. Her entire body warms as he kisses the sensitive skin of her palm, and she immediately drops her hand. “We’re walking into what’s certainly going to be a trial, if not an execution, and you’ve got jokes.”

“Trust me—not joking.” He turns as they reach the steps, and heads down first, glancing back over his shoulder at her. Everytime he says trust me, she wants to strangle him. “Surprised that you’re not icing me out, but definitely no jokes.”

“I’m angry at you for keeping information from me. Pulling a Violet and ignoring you instead of confronting whatever happened doesn’t solve that.”

“Good point. What did you want to talk about?”

“I have a question I’ve been thinking about since Aretia.”

“And you’re only now telling me?” He reaches the bottom of the steps and shoots an incredulous look at her. “Communication is not your strength, is it? Don’t worry. We’ll work on it along with your and Violet’s shielding.”

“Are you being serious? Do you hear yourself?” That is so ironic coming from him.

Xaden pauses at the bottom of the steps, and the barest hint of a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, actually. Dead serious. I just have a feeling that if I don’t push you a little, you’re going to retreat back into yourself until you snap and you’re never actually going to say what’s on your mind.”

She scowls, trying to ignore the way his smile is both infuriating and—unfortunately—disarmingly familiar. “Fine. Since you're so eager for honesty… What are those one hundred and eight scars on your back for? And why didn’t you tell me about the venin the entirety of the past year? Or why did you hide the fact that a rebellion my sister raised from its ashes was actively occurring?”

Xaden’s smirk vanishes just as quickly as it appeared. He rubs the back of his neck, his gaze shifting away, a flicker of regret crossing his face. “Because I didn’t know how you’d react. And, yeah, maybe I was afraid you’d completely reject me the second you knew the truth. I didn’t want you to feel like you were being forced into a war you didn’t even know existed.”

“You’re such a guy, you know that? It’s such a guy thing to ignore every question except for the last one.” She huffed. “I guess I have to ask one at a time. What are the one hundred and eight scars for?”

Xaden’s jaw tenses as he meets her gaze, and there’s a flicker of something raw in his eyes. He looks away, as if stealing himself, then back at her. “Those scars… Each one represents one of the kids of the rebellion. Each life I agreed to take responsibility for. One scar for each of us forced into the Quadrant—one hundred and eight lives that would’ve ended in execution if we weren’t allowed to fight for our freedom.” He forces her gaze to meet his once more, and her eyes feel as if they’re watching his soul. “It was one hundred and seven until I found out that there was a girl trapped in a cell underneath Basgiath being tortured for answers on my behalf. I just didn’t know that girl was you until you told me.”

Genevieve stares at him, absorbing this revelation, and all her old assumptions feel flimsy, hollow. She wants to say something, but the words stick in her throat. He’s never shown her this part of himself, not fully, atleast. The realization crashes down on her that he’s the most selfless person she knows.

“So… when you found out about me, without ever even knowing me,” she says, barely able to keep the tremor from her voice, “you saved me?”

He nods, and for the first time, she feels as though she might suffocate from all the pressure from what he’s done for her.

“And I called you a selfish bastard,” she swallows. “Twice.”

“You did.” He nods. “And I was. I really was, Genevieve. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I didn’t realize how keeping you in the dark so I could live in a selfish fantasy where you loved me for who you thought you knew I was was really just hurting you. I was scared. The rebellion, the venin… it was all too much. I didn’t want to pull you into my mess, and I certainly didn’t want to see you hurt because of me.”

Her chest tightened at the weight of his words. It was one thing to hear him speak of sacrifice, but this was not just sacrifice. She wanted to reach out, to reassure him, but the distance between them still felt like a gaping chasm waiting to swallow her whole. “You know you could’ve trusted me.” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I would’ve done anything to help. I still want to help.”

“And do you trust me? Now, after everything?”

“Do you want the uncomplicated answer?”

Xaden glanced up at the tall doors that lead to the tunnel into Basgiath before he looks back at Genevieve. “Given our limited time alone, that’s probably preferable.”

“Then yes, with my life. After all, it’s your life, too.” She knows that the rest depends on how open he is from here on out, but now probably isn’t the time for a ‘are we dating or do I hate you’ talk.

There’s a flash of disappointment in his eyes before he nods, and then looks back to the other seven, who are quickly catching up. “I’ll make sure Aetos keeps his hands to himself and off of you and Violet, but you might have to play it along.”

“Give me a shot at handling it first, and then you can do whatever it is you think will work.” Violet says and Genevieve nods, before the bells of Basgiath ring, announcing the hour. They have fifteen minutes until formation will be called for graduation.

Xaden’s shoulders straighten. “Everyone clear on what’s about to happen?”

This isn’t the man who begged her forgiveness for keeping secrets, and it sure as hell isn’t the one who vowed to earn back her trust in Aretia. No, this is Xaden the wingleader who slaughtered every attacker in her bedroom without blinking and never lost a wink of sleep over it.

“We’re ready,” Garrick says, rolling his neck like he needs to warm up before combat.

“Ready.” Masen nods, adjusting the glasses on his nose. And one by one, everyone agrees to ride into hell once more.

“Let’s do it.” Genevieve lifts her chin.

Xaden stares at her long and hard, and then nods.

Her stomach twists as they enter the tunnel, mage lights flickering on as they pass. The other door is already open when they make their way through and she doesn’t argue when Xaden plasters himself to her side. There’s every chance they’ll be arrested as soon as their feet touch the quadrant, or worse, killed, depending on what everyone else knows.

Power simmers underneath Genevieve’s skin, thrumming to life but not quite surfacing, ready if she needs it, but no one appears as they cross into the rock-filled courtyard. They have minutes before the space fills with riders and cadre.

The first riders they encounter walk out of the dormitory and into the courtyard with cocky swaggers and Second Wing patches on their uniforms.

“Look who’s finally here? Bet you thought you had the games locked down, didn’t you, Fourth Wing?” a rider with dyed forest green hair says with a smirk. “But you didn’t! Second Wing took it all when you didn’t show.”

Genevieve rolls her eyes and Xaden doesn’t bother looking in their direction as they pass. Garrick lifts his middle finger from Genevieve’s left.

“Guess this means no one knows what really happened,” Imogen whispers.

“Then we have a shot of this working,” Eya replies, and the sunlight glints in the piercing in her eyebrows.

“Of course no one fucking knows,” Xaden mutters. He looks up to the top of the academic building, and Genevieve’s eyes follow his line of sight, her heart jumping at the image of the fire blazing at the top of the farthest turret. No doubt waiting for offerings to Malek—belongings of the cadets who didn’t make it through War Games. Her belongings if this all fails. “They’re not going to out themselves over us.”

At the entrance to the dorms, the group shares a look and then breaks apart wordlessly according to plan. Xaden trails behind Genevieve and Violet as they follow down the corridor and into the little hallway they’ve called home for the last nine months, but neither of them go into their own rooms.

Violet glances left and right to be sure no one sees them, before she pushes open the door to Liam’s room. She slips in, triggering the mage light overhead.

Genevieve can’t even bear to look in at the room, let alone enter. She knows Violet is barely holding back tears as she looks at the bed where she once slept securely in the arms of her lover not even a week ago. She knows Violet is taking in each and every one of those moments that she ripped away from her when she chose Violet over Liam.

I will not cry today.

But it’s a lot. Everything is exactly the same as it was when they left. Violet has the stack of letters in her arms and a few unfinished figurines tucked into her pockets as she emerges, and Genevieve knows that she will regret not going into the room one last time for the rest of her life, but she can’t.

Her feet are glued to the floor until Violet opens her mouth. “I got them,” She whispers, her eyes red.

“Let’s go.” Violet walks right in front of them, emerging from the darkness as Rhiannon walks out of her room with Ridoc in tow.

Oh shit.

“Vi!” Rhiannon’s mouth drips open and she lunges, grabbing onto Violet and pulling her into a hug. “You’re here!” She squeezes tight, and Violet relaxes into her arms.

Genevieve feels alone for the half a second she watches before Ridoc crashes into her with his arms prepared to wrap tightly around her.

Genevieve’s heart swells as she is enveloped in the warmth of Ridoc’s embrace. His familiar presence wraps around her like a cocoon, making her feel at home in the midst of the chaos. The weight of his relief and affection momentarily dulls the pang of loneliness gnawing at her. She sinks into the hug, breathing in the scents of sweat and leather, a comfort she never knew she craved until now.

“Look who’s back from the dead,” Ridoc chuckles, his voice muffled against her shoulder. “You had us worried there for a bit, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” her voice is slightly muted by his embrace, until he pushes her back, his eyes scanning her for injuries the same way Rhiannon scans Violet’s for injuries.

“With what everyone was saying, I thought you were dead.” Her gaze flits to Genevieve. “I thought the three of you were.”

“There was also the rumor that you got lost,” Ridoc adds. “But considering who you were with, we were all betting on the dead theory. I’m glad we were wrong.”

“I promise I’ll explain later, but I need a favor now,” Violet whispers, her throat closing as her gaze drops.

“Sorrengail,” Xaden’s tone drops.

“We can trust her,” Genevieve snaps, promising as she looks back at him. “We can trust both of them.”

Xaden looks anything but pleased, but he nods. Guess they really were home.

“What do you need?” Rhiannon asks, concern furrowing her brow.

Violet steps back, and then pushes the letters and figurines into her hands. “I need you to keep these for me. Hide them. Don’t let anyone… burn them.” her voice breaks.

She glances down at the letters, and her eyes widen before her shoulders curve inward and her face crumples.

“What are tho—” Ridoc starts, looking over Genevieve to the letters and then falling silent. “Shit.”

“No,” Rhiannon whispers, and Genevieve knows this isn’t her denying the favor. “Not Liam. No. Genevieve didn’t—” She cuts herself off, her gaze momentarily falling onto Genevieve before she slowly meets Violet's eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

Violet’s eyes burn, but she manages to nod, clearing her throat. “Promise you won’t let them have these when they come for his things if I’m not–” She can’t finish.

Rhiannon nods, before turning to Genevieve. “Are you alright? Your hair—”

Genevieve shakes her head. She’s not lying. Not really, at least. The poison isn’t there anymore, just the after-effects that still plague her. “I’m fine, really.”

“We have to go,” Xaden says.

“I’ll see you guys at graduation,” Violet gives them a watery smile and takes a step back. The three of them walk again, turning the corner into the crowded main corridor of the first-year dorms.

“How do you do it?” Genevieve whispers at Xaden as she watches Violet walk a step in front of them.

“Do what?” his arms hand loose at his sides as he continuously scans the people around them, and he puts his hand on her lower back like he’s worried they might get separated. They’re in the thick of the rush, and for every person too busy to notice the three of them, there’s another who does a double take when they cross paths. And every marked one they see gives Xaden a subtle nod, and Genevieve knows they’ve been warned by the others.

“Lie to the people you care about?”

Their gazes collide and they pass one of the busts of the First Six, following the flow of the crowd past the wide spiral staircase that connects the higher years’ dorms.

Xaden’s jaw clenches. “Gen–”

She lifts her hand to cut him off. “It’s not an insult. I need to know how to do it. I don’t lie to people I care about.”

They break away from the crush of cadets headed out the door to the courtyard, and Xaden strides purposefully for the rotunda, yanking the door open and ushering the two girls through. He places a hand on Genevieve once more, but she shifts away from him.

“Stay here,” he mutters to Violet, who just nods with her arms crossed.

He grabs Genevieve and tugs her behind the first pillar they come across. The red dragon hides them from anyone who may pass through the space that connects all wings of the quadrant. Sure enough, voices and footsteps pass, but no one sees them behind the massive pillar, and no one sees Violet in the shadows covering her.

“For the record, I also don’t lie to the people I care about,” Xaden lowers his voice as he faces her, the intensity in his eyes pinning her back to the marble pillar. He leans in, and he’s all she can see. “And I sure as hell have never lied to you. But the art of telling selective truths is something you’re going to have to master or we’ll all be dead. I know you trust Rhiannon and Ridoc, but you can’t tell them the truth, as much for their sakes as for ours. Knowing puts them into danger. You have to keep the truth compartmentalized. If you can’t lie to your friends, you keep your distance. Understand?”

She tenses. Of course she knows that, but hearing it said so blatantly drives the knife deeper into her chest. “Does Violet know all of this too?”

“Liam had her master this art last year when he spilled everything to her by accident.”

“I understand,” she says after a sharp exhale.

“I never wanted to put you into this position. Not with your friends and especially not with the General. That was one of the many reasons I never told you.”

“How long did you know about my mother?” It’s definitely not the right time to ask this, but Geneveive will not die without answers. She needs to know.

He exhales slowly. “I knew about it the minute she ran away from you.”

Her lips part, and something heavy shifts, easing a weight that settled in her chest that’s been there since Resson. But another weight slams into Genevieve’s chest. Xaden’s known her mother longer than he’s known her.

“What?”

“You didn’t dodge the question.” She has to admit it, she’s a little surprised.

“I promised you some answers,” He leans forward. “But I can’t promise you’ll always like what you hear.”

“You owe me all the answers, if you ever want me back,” she huffs. “And I’ll always prefer the truth.”

“You say that now,” A wry smile twists his lips.

Her eyes narrow. “I always will.” The sound of boots shuffling behind them as students report to formation reminds her that they’re not entirely alone, but she needs Xaden to hear her. “If the last few weeks have shown you anything, it should be that I run from nothing, no matter how hard it is or what it costs.”

“Yeah, well, it cost me you.” Her whole body tenses and his eyes slam shut. “Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.” He opens his eyes again, shaking his head, and the abject misery makes her head pound. “I know it was the not telling you. I get it. But when the lives of everyone around you—when your life—depends on how well you can lie, it’s not easy to realize it’s the truth that will save you.” A sigh moves his shoulders. “If I could do it all again, I’d tell you. I’d do it differently, I promise, but I can’t, so here we are.”

“So here we are.” But where even is here? This isn’t home anymore. “But as long as you meant what you said about telling me everything—”

He flinches, and her head throbs again.

“Oh hell no, Xaden, I swear on the gods, look me in the eye and tell me that you are going to tell me everything once I can properly shield.” Genevieve wants to kill him. She wants nothing more than to strangle him. “That’s what you promised in your bedroom, anything you want to know and everything you don’t. Those were your words. And I’m not joking when I say I will kill you if you can’t swear that that is what I will get.”

“Everything about me.”

She shakes her head. “I will not be playing these stupid games with two people.”

He takes a step toward her, but she lifts her chin and her eyes narrow, daring him to touch her right now. And he’s a smart man for keeping his feet planted on the ground.

He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Look, I will answer any question you want to ask about me. Gods, I want you to ask, to know me well enough to trust me even when I can’t tell you everything.” He nods like those words had been included in the original promise when they both know damn well they weren’t. “Because you didn’t fall for an ordinary rider. You fell for the leader of a revolution, and to some degree, I’m always going to have secrets.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

For her entire life she was kept in the dark by people who thought that was best to her. Her father hid her away from the revolution and then he died, leaving her to scramble in his ashes. Her sister left and re-started her father’s rebellion and never uttered a single word in any of the letters she wrote, and Genevieve knows logically that those letters were being stopped and read, but the pain of being kept blind by those she trusts still stings. Her mother left, and didn’t look back for five years. She will not be hidden any longer.

“I’m not kidding.” There’s zero apology in his tone. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t let you in like I promised. I’m an open book when it comes to—”

“If you’re still just going to lie to me I’d prefer you to just shut your mouth. You’ll be an open book when it comes to whatever you want.” She shakes her head. “And that’s not going to work for me. Not this time and not ever. I can’t trust you without full disclosure.”

He blinks, and for a moment she knows she’s managed to stun him.

“I need all the details. Everything.” She demands, staring straight down into his eyes. “I reluctantly forgave you for keeping me in the dark before today. You did it to protect my own life, whether or not that being what I wanted regardless. But it’s complete and total honesty from this minute onwards, or…”

Fuck, am I really going to say this?

“Or what?” His eyes sharpen.

“Or I’ll go back to what I was before I trusted any of you,” She took a deep breath. “A weapon.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey everyone! Fun little chapter, right? Something weird is going on with Genevieve… I wonder if anyone has picked up on it? And— if you have, what’s your theory? I would love to know what you are thinking! Also, I posted on Thursday a Liam Mairi x Reader, so if you haven’t gone to my Tumblr to read that yet, please go and let me know what you thought.

More about me as the creator of Genevieve, I actually struggle with chronic headaches and nausea (a beautiful long-lasting side effect from a medication i was put on four years ago), so writing Gen to struggle with these issues now is really interesting, because I’m just putting my own experience onto paper. I also recently passed out from blood loss (don’t donate blood if you’re anemic and also prone to throw up over anything), so I’m excited to now have some experience with that for future reference!

As always, if you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, or kudo! That’s it for now! See you all Wednesday.

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Taglist: @awkardnerd , @hannraumari , @minjix , @glaciuswduo , @wolfbc97 , @heeseungthel0ml

#fourth wing #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #xaden riorson x reader #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing xaden #xaden and sgaeyl #garrick tavis x reader #bodhi durran x reader #bodhi durran #the empyrean #the wounded healer

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satorena · 6 months ago

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༊*·˚ D!CK OFF LIMITS !?

bad ☆ summary. why won’t he let you suck his dīck?

warnings. explicit content. 18+. foul language. cunningulus. fīngerīng. premature ejacūlatīon. semi public sēx. usage of toys. facials. mirror sēx. dom/sub undertones. preestablished relationships. reader is a fiend for his dick. afab!reader. could be angsty at some point ? fwb to . . . lovers ? 7.4k words (kill me now).

rena's ☆ note. this idea came to me while i was drunk.

you wonder if gojo thinks you have gingivitis.

that thought was unlikely, as he was always eager to shove his tongue down your mouth, tongues sloshing and secreting saliva as his hands roamed between your thighs, knuckles deep into your cunt.

then maybe he assumed you were a biter— which would be highly hypocritical of him, as he’s known to get on his knees in the nearest bathroom stall and flip your skirt up, push your panties to the side and plunge his canines into the flesh of your ass before tongue fucking you.

well, maybe he simply didn’t get off on pleasing you— yeah you knew it wasn’t that one, if the way he thrusted his bulge in the air whenever your thighs wrapped around his head for relief every time he ate you out said anything.

you simply didn’t understand— what man would refuse receiving head after giving the nastiest of it?

your fingers clawed at a snowy pile of hair, back arched as you ground your hips into his mouth. he ate your pussy like a starved man, sloppy and coordinated, as his lips latched onto yours as if he’d die without your taste in his mouth

his tongue swiped up your juices as he lapped at your folds, dragging the top of his wet muscles against your core, nibbling at your puffy clit. gojo was on his knees, moaning like a slut in between your thighs as you used him to chase your orgasm.

“ngh, fuck— right there baby,” you mewled, toes curling as your back hit the cold wall of the bathroom stall. his hands gripped at your ass, caressing and squeezing the mounds to pull you in tighter than you’d already been. your mind felt hazy, so overcome with lust that you were ready to burst your dam down his throat. “oh m’ goddd, so fuckin’ close toruuu!”

“give it all t’me pretty baby,” his words come out muffled, only pulling away just slightly. his rosy lips are glossed your arousal and his saliva, a consistency so thick it connects a strand of fluid from your bottom lips to his own. his skin is blotched in lust, cerulean eyes dazed in awe. “cum in my mouth princess, needa taste you.”

your orgasm washes over you before you can even register it, a sensation so powerful you cry out as your dam erupts. splurges of your essence shoots from your cunt down to his mouth, and as you roll your eyes to the back of your skull, you notice so does he. his fingernails dig into the flesh of your skin, pinning you down as he humbly welcomes your cum.

“s’gooddd, shit toru!” you feel your bottom lip quivering, limbs twitching from overstimulation as he continues to ravish you. your groin tingles in heat, body weak as it succumbs to the pleasure gojo gives it. you feel weak, a feeling you’re never able to adapt to no matter how much he attempts to prepare you for it. “uhn uhn— too much, can’t take it!” your head shakes from side to side, nails clawing at his scalp as you attempt to push him away.

the pad of his fingers slip from your ass to snake in between your legs, spanking your wet pussy thrice to keep you in check, and your knees crumbles. gojo latches his lips at your clit once more, and you feel the world blackout. “stop that— fuckin’ take it baby. i know my good girl can take it.”

he leaves you no choice, eyes trailing upwards to land on your figure, the dip in your back so sinful that you feel as though both your bodies have merged into one. his tongue works so deep into you, it feels as though you’re both puzzle pieces that were made to connect to one another. your thighs are quivering around his head, and you feel your back slipping against the wall. shit.

“mmhm, nooo, ‘m gonna cum again!” you pout, tears built at your lash line now streaking down your cheeks. it’s all too much— the sensation so raw that you look for an escape. you want to push him off, to take a breather and regain your composure. but he’s looking at you with such expectations, eyes shimmering with eagerness as he lifts both your legs onto his shoulder for support.

he manhandles your body like it’s nothing— like you weigh nothing. your limp body now slides upwards, higher up in the air than you’d been a second ago. gojo rises to his full height and motorboats into your dripping cunt.

you wail out, head throw back against the stall as a desperate mouth gnaws at your folds. you’re sure he’s dripping from his mouth to his chin, a mixture of fluids so prominent that it dribbles down to the marble floor. “haaah, oh shit— baby, i can’t— fuck, y’eat my pussy sooo fuckin’ good!” the praises flow past your tongue so naturally, hands torn between pushing and pulling away from the painful pleasure. “nghhh, i— ‘m gonna— holy shit!”

your back hits the wall in waves of full body twitches, your cunt clamping down on his tongue as you weakly splurts drops of more cum. fat tears stain your cheeks, blood rushing hotly from head to toe, spraying gojo’s face in your essence.

“atta fuckin’ girl.” he groans into your pussy, almost more drunk on the taste of you than you are. he flicks his tongue up and down, dragging your orgasm as far as he can, completely enthralled by the desperate thrusts of your hips into his face. you’re smearing his face with your fluids, and from the fucked out look on your face— eyes crossed and tongue lolled out, he decides this might be the best way to go. “there we go— yeah baby, jus’ like that, mhmm.”

the timeline from your coming down to actually coming down to the floor is all blurry, but you’re barely able to stand on your two feet when you feel his hand cup at your chin tightly. his index finger raises your face to stare up at his, all moist from fluids and humidity but you don’t think he’s ever looked prettier.

his lips meet yours desperately, lips sloshing over one another as the taste of your cum now sits atop your taste pallets. his free hand snakes around your waist, holding you still as you lazily loop your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

he’s so good at it all— the nibbles of his teeth at your bottom lip making your legs go weak, stomach churning in more lust. he smells like a mixture of you and his expensive cologne— so satoru like, that you’re positive if this keeps going, you may blackout on the cold floor of this bathroom stall in the club.

he kisses you like he’s got something to prove, and eventually your lungs are filled with his provided oxygen, and you truly believe you’re going to pass out. you pull just slightly away, much to his disdain. he whines, tip of your noses just barely an inch away as you pant over his cupid’s bow. “fuck.”

“mmhm, that good?” gojo teases, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk you’re too familiar with. you don’t have it in you to flick his forehead.

instead, you opt with sighing. “that good.” your hands trail down his nape, nails grazing at the sensitive skin beneath his undercut, scratching and lightly pulling at his locks. he shudders at your touch, leaning forward to rest his sweat forehead against yours.

your touches lower from his shoulders down to his chest, grazing your fingers over his perky buds, teasing his nipples. he’s so touch starved, jaw slackened as he moans— breath warm as it fans your face. your hands begins to lower down to his hips, seductive touches that has him biting his lips, hips instinctively jerking to meet with your light grazing.

you keep steady eye contact with him as your hands finally land at his raging bulge. the material over his hard-on is damp in his pre cum, and it feels hot beneath your touch. with a slight tilt of your head, “lemme take care of you, toru.”

you can see him battling his own thoughts. his pupils widen in lust, orbs swimming in excitement as you palm his erection more precisely. he’s twitching beneath your cupped hand, humping against your palm as his throat erupts a desperate pant.

you wonder if today’s the day he’s finally going to let you see his dick— to let you swallow him whole and please him just as he does with you. you want to get on your knees and take him so far down your throat that tears build and you force gags back down. you’re sure he’s all pretty and pink, a length to match his abnormally tall height and girth ready to stretch your throat muscles.

but as always, just like the night before, he chuckles and shakes his head. he’s refusing you again, hands gripping at your waist to push you away from him.

“you know i can’t do that baby,” he sighs, a small smile appearing on his wet lips. you can tell he’s frustrated with himself, so unsure as the pad of his thumbs rub the bare skin of your waist. you jut your bottom lip in annoyance, although expecting his refusal. “maybe next time, yeah?”

you’re annoyed as you push him away, pushing your skirt back down so it falls down your ass. and you’re sure he notices too. you don’t object when he grabs the toilet paper from the stall to clean the left over mess between your thighs— though your arms do cross over the flimsy material of your tight top over your chest.

“mhm, sure.”

☆ ☆

about a week later, you’re on all fours on his annoyingly large king-sized bed, hands clawing at his sheets as you push your hips back into his fingers. he’s scissoring your cunt open, knuckles-deep in and every precise thrusts has you seeing stars.

“yesyesyes!” you nod your head feverishly, babbles slipping past your tongue and dribbling down the damp sheets beneath you. “oh m’god, feels sooo fuckin’ good, ngh!” there you sat naked and exposed, getting the life fucked out of you by his fingers alone, a length so impossible that you’re convinced his index and middle finger eventually bump your cervix with how deep he works himself into you.

gojo lands a few kisses at the back of your thighs, kneeled down at the edge of his bed as he twists his fingers into your cunt. he’s enamoured by the sloppiness of your tight pussy gripping at his digits so desperately, a squelching sound so harmonious it has him rubbing his own thighs against one another.

“face down, baby.” gojo commands, his free hand coming up to press at your lower back. you obey his order, pressing your cheek down against his sheets, arms silently thanking the man for the break of supporting your body up. you mewl when you feel him plunging his teeth into the soft skin of your ass, before running a wet tongue over the stinging pain. “there’s my good girl. heh, such an obedient lil’ thing.”

you lay pressed against his bed as you take his ruthless pounding, the tip of his fingers reaching the gummy spot that has stars dancing at the back of your eyelids. god, he always knew how to make a mess out of you— your body his temple, a book he’s dead over a million times and has learned to memorize.

“cute lil hole jus’ seems sooo enticing,” you feel the warmth of his breath fanning against your twitching rim, waves of warm air tickling the muscle. it doesn’t surprise you when you feel his wet tongue caressing your tight hole with light touches, just pushing slightly past unspoken boundaries. your stomach tightens the more relaxed he becomes, lapping from the bottom of your cunt up to your asshole, savouring you whole as he works himself into your clingy pussy.

“t-toru, oh yes baby— ‘m gonna cummm!” you whine, sobbing when your orgasm finally does catch up to you— as if he hadn’t already known. you walls clamp down on his fingers for dear life, folds twitching as they secrete your honeyed essence all over his hand and down to his sheets.

gojo never lets up, stringing along as he encourages you even further, “that’s it babyyyy, there we go.” drool slips past his kiss-bitten lips and down to your sopping wet cunt, tongue still working its way at the tightness of your forbidden hole. you look so fucking cute all shaken up, barely keeping yourself together as your moans echoes off his walls and fade into the stillness of the night.

he’s so fucking hard it hurts, but he’d take seeing you wrecked and ruined by his hands alone over the selfish tendencies of asking you to take care of him back. and he knew you’d known that already, if the way your body immediately lurches forward to melt into the sloth ess of silk sheets beneath you said anything.

you feel large hands grip at your thighs, trailing up before landing on your ass. he spreads apart your cheeks, sticky residue spreading your pussy lips with a sinful sound. you shiver, the cold breeze hitting your cunt a mix of overstimulated senses hitting at once.

he collects your liquids at the pad of his fingers, before wrapping his tongue around the digits. he nearly cums at your taste alone, “fuckkk, y’taste so fuckin’ sweet, princess.” and he pushes forward to drag his tongue along the evidence of your orgasm on your thighs, trailing up to the cleft of your ass and to your cunt, cleaning up after his mess.

you know better, and yet you still try anyway. with a shy tilt of your head, you look back to the starved man between your thighs and offer the prettiest smile you can, cheeks flushed in heat and lips glossed in saliva. “y’gonna let me take care of you yet?”

it doesn’t surprise you when he chuckles, releasing the fat of your cunt from his mouth with a nasty pop! to rise up to his full height, bending over your body to entrap yours within his arms. your back arches as you tilt your head backwards to meet his gaze, boobs pressed up together.

he stares at you with an unreadable expression, though the prominent dimple sitting in his cheek pops. “this was more than enough for me, ya little minx.”

☆ ☆

“if we get c-caught, i’ll fucking kill you.” you whisper, hands curling at the edge of his office desk. your eyes repeatedly darted towards the unlocked door, right before you, where anybody could walk into his office and see their boss on his knees for you during his lunch break, eating you out.

he pulls away with a dreamy sigh, a firm grip on your ass jiggling the cheek. “a man can’t enjoy his lunch in peace? not my fault ‘m starving.” there’s a filthy string of your essence and his saliva that connects from his lips to your lower ones.

“get real!” you hiss at him, despite the familiar feeling of heat licking at your limbs. “you asked me to bring your lunch and— ohhh!” your words soon die in your throat as your head rolls forward, and your bottom lip now tucked beneath your teeth. the warmth slide of his tongue at your clit has your nails scratching the surface of his desk, and your back curves into him.

“you worry too much,” gojo mumbles, before pressing a kiss to your pussy. he feels it throb against him, as he hums and runs the pad of his fingers against your messy folds. you shudder at the stimulation, your hips subconsciously grinding down on his fingers to follow his wavelength. with a smug smile, “see? at least yer pussy’s honest wimme— just lemme take care of her.”

“f-fucking bastard.” you grit through your teeth, though you make no objections. you could act high and mighty all you wanted, you never pushed him away whenever he offered to please you. it was almost like he solely got off on it— your pleasure alone. “i h-hate you.”

“love you too, princess.” he smirks, and you decide to brush off the tight squeeze at your heart at his words.

his tongue fucked into your hole yet again, and your eyes roll to the back of your skull. you really couldn’t get enough of this— of him. you’d repay him your gratitudes if he’d let you. you’d push him back, lay him down and suck his dick eagerly if only he’d let you. you wonder the length of his cock, if it curves, how flushed his tip must get or how much pre leaks from his slit. you want it so bad, and fuck if only he’d let you. but,

he doesn’t.

he gives and gives but never takes. he’ll call you and tells you he’s in dire need of eating you out— of making you cum, and the minute you return the same energy, he finds an excuse to walk away. you’re slowly losing your mind— you crave the taste of him on your tongue, to hear how whiney he sounds once his tip hits the back of your throat, or how pretty he’d look with his eyes rolled to the back of his skull and hips thrusting uncontrollably into your mouth.

“toruuu,” you whine, tilting your head back. tears build in your eyes as they accumulate at your lash line. your bottom lip juts, a soft pout resting on your lips as you flutter your lashes at the man behind you. even with a mouth full of your pussy, his eyes never lie. “c’mon, lemme return the— ngh, favour,” you feel a beat of a pause at your words, and you egg it on further. “i know you’re rock hard. . . you c-can put it in, i won’t, mmhm—mind.”

he swears he cums. he swears he feels his balls tighten and release hot and thick strings of cum in his slacks, briefs tainted white with shame. you were going to be the death of him— you and your doe eyes, glossy lips and perky ass. it grows sticky between his thighs, but his hips twitch as his throat erupts a guttural groan.

“you can’t just fucking say that,” gojo whines, nuzzling his nose into the cleft of your ass. he’s whimpering against your skin, breath warm and moist as his panting grows heavier by the second. you shake your hips against his face, batting your full lashes, and he groans even louder. “you have no idea what you do to me—fucking hell.”

“enlighten me then.” you reach your hand out to fluff his pile of damp hair. he instinctively leans into your touch, peppering kisses all over your skin. you’d never thought you’d have the gojo satoru on his knees for you, demanding you let him please you. “let me suck your dick toru, ‘m real good at it.”

his breath hitches in his throat and you’re positive you’ve finally got him. he’s going to cave in and sit on his office chair, pull his pants down and let you handle his mess. he’s going to realize he’s wasted plenty of time pushing the idea away the second you swallow his length whole and—

“i’m sure you are,” gojo speaks, but you can tell there’s a but following. you sigh, and he offers a sheepish smile in return. “but you know ‘m good here. just wanna make you feel good— your pleasure is mine, i promise. trust me on that, yeah?”

all arguments are thrown out the window the instant his lips latch back onto your sloppy ones.

☆ ☆

“uhn uhn. . . ‘s too muchhh!” you whine, squirming in his lap in attempts to run away. your clit ached almost painfully, repeatedly abused by the vibrations of the toy gojo had stimulating. the soft hums of the vibrator echoed in the room in harmony with your pleads, but gojo was a sadist and unfortunately you might’ve been a masochist. “c-can’t cum anymore!”

“aweee, but of course you can!” he kisses the sensitive skin on your neck, before nuzzling his nose into the crook. his legs spread wider to further open your shaky ones, and his free hand cups at your breast. “you pussying out on me, baby?”

no, you were not. “of c-course not,” you muster to glare at him through the reflection of the mirror before you both. piercing blue eyes never left your body for a second, drinking up every reaction you had to offer him. you nearly felt . . . shy at his gaze. “just hurts a little, fuckkk, you mean b-bitch.”

“mmhm.” gojo nods, fingers tweaking at the buds of your stiff nipples. he rolls the bud between his knuckles, drawing out broken moans out of you as the consistent buzz of the vibrator at your pussy doesn’t let up. he presses another kiss, at your temple, “you’re my good girl, i don’t expect otherwise.”

you bite your lip, cheeks flushing in what feels like embarrassment. him and his damn praises. he knows what he’s doing to you, rosy lips tugging into that smirk as his facial expression scream smug. you wish you could punch the bastard right in the face, but that thought is quickly gone when he pinches hard at your tits.

“shittt,” you mewl, grinding your hips down on his. you feel his bulge poking at your ass— so hard and prominent, proof of his arousal. his lap is drenched in your juices, evidence of multiple rounds seeping into the material of his sweatpants. “so fuckin’ good, hnng, you’re sooo fuckin’ good to me.” you raise an arm to grab at the base of his neck, threading your fingers through his soft locks.

you ooze sex appeal, everything you do and say so erotic, and gojo is easily your slave. “yeah?” he mumbles into your skin, though he looks at your reflection through snowy lashes. your back arches sinfully, ass pressed so snuggly against his lap and your pussy leaking buckets worth of cum. “tell me, what else am i?”

the vibrator attacking your clit has your left leg shaking uncontrollably, the knot in your stomach quickly tightening. you chew on your bottom lip, eyelids resting shut as you focus on spewing your next words, carefully selecting them. you can’t help the chuckle that reaches your mouth instead of a moan, “a bitch.”

“oh?” gojo cocks an eyebrow, another chuckle now audible despite it not coming from you. he drags the vibrator down your slippery folds and all the way back up to your clit, and you tighten your hold on his hair. “those weren’t supposed to be your next words, sweetheart.”

“y-you’re a bitch,” you continue regardless, and gojo can’t deny he’s attracted to you for your sheer audacity. he’s always been a fiend for a good challenge. “won’t even let me give you head— ngh, thought i was the one with a pussy.”

“you’re wounding my ego here,” gojo slides his hand from your tits and trail it all the way up to your mouth. he spreads your lips with two fingers, before hooking them at the corner of your mouth. “callin’ me a pussy? that’s a low blow, baby.”

you squint at him through the foggy mirror, applying pressure to the bulge poking at your ass. you smile when he groans into your ear, “you got a small dick or somethin’? gotta say— fuck, s-sure doesn’t feel like you do.” you throw your head back onto his shoulder, lips grazing over the shell of his ear, “should i check for myself? hnng, see if satoru owns a pussy?”

there’s a click in the air and suddenly the humming of the vibrator stops. finally. had you finally blown his fuse? ironically, your clit secretes more liquid as the idea of him finally pulling his pants off and dicking you down comes to mind. once his pride deflates, he does whatever he can to prove otherwise.

you’re sure you’ve got him.

“heh, you’ve got some nerve.” gojo snorts, and you don’t register how he’s manhandle you to the floor, hands holding your entire upper body steady as your thighs now wrap around his shoulders. the position has your back arched like a cat, and you raise your head up to watch him confusedly through the glass mirror.

two firm hands grip at your ass cheeks, spreading them apart as he licks his lips hungrily, “it’s lookin’ like you’ll never know.” he bares his fangs at you, and you sigh before he feasts again.

☆ ☆

it doesn’t feel right. none of it does. it’s nowhere remotely near cheating, and yet, as this man litters your neck and chest with loving kisses, you feel your stomach churning in guilt.

here he is, offering himself to you, willing to give you what you’d been deprived off since you’d started your arrangement with gojo— willing to rock your world, bump hips and coax an penetrative orgasm out of you— but all you could think about was how wrong this all felt.

though a pleasant smell, these sheets don’t smell like him. they don’t feel like him either. instead of wide cerulean eyes and untamed white hair is stern brown eyes and kept blonde hair. where should be blotches of red on flawless skin is stress lines infused skin.

you felt awful, burning touches trailing between your thighs instead of that electricity that had your stomach twisting with butterflies.

“is everything alright?” the man pulls away from your legs, and questions. he’s so kind, willing to ask how you’re feeling in the midst of it all, and all you can think about is gojo.

no, nothing’s fine. “yeah, i’m good.” you lie, offering a smile. you’re a good liar, and it seems he falls for your words as he proceeds, pushing your panties to the side and works his tongue into you.

his movements are calculated and measured, paying attention to all areas of your cunt. he eats you out good, there’s no denying so, has your toes curling and back arching off his mattress. you lower your hand to tighten his locks, but even that feels wrong— it’s not as fluffy as gojo’s. you think you feel hair gel between your knuckles.

your mind runs a mile an second, overwhelmed by the sole idea that you were offering your body to another man. gojo wasn’t yours— not in the slightest, and yet, as he sucked on your clit and gripped at your thighs, your chest felt unreasonably tight.

you couldn’t do this any longer.

“wait— wait, please stop.” you push his head away, bottom lip quivering. he pulls away instantly, a string of saliva connecting from his lips to your cunt. you feel sick at the confused look on his face. “i can’t— i can’t do this. i’m so sorry.”

the man stares at you for a moment, though never maliciously, and you feel like wanting to crawl into a hole. he nods his head, before pushing your panties back to where they belong, and pushes himself up. silence fills the air for a while, and you’re holding back tears. you’re not sure why, though.

“it’s gojo, isn’t it?” he asks, though he’s not posing a question. he knows, surely everybody knows that you belong to him in both body and soul, but this has only been a recently found discovery for you.

your silence speaks volumes, and the man nods once more.

“yeah, that’s what i thought too.”

☆ ☆

to say he was surprised was definitely an understatement. he wasn’t expecting you to show up at his place, despite already having given you a key to his apartment.

you barged through his bedroom door, a location you were already too familiar with and unknowingly had become so accustomed to. your chest is heaving as if you’d ran a marathon before showing up here, and he wants to kiss the pout off your lips. “pants off, now.”

gojo rises from his bed to stand at his full height, a surprised smile stretching onto his face. “woah, at least take me out on a date first! i’m not just some whore.” his hands comically rise up in surrender, and your frown deepens.

“why won’t you let me give you head?” you ask him before you can even process your choice of wording. when his brows jump to his hairline at your boldness, you feel your face warm in embarrassment. “i mean seriously— am i the problem?”

“what?” gojo blinks, taking quick strides towards your fuming self. he shakes his head feverishly, “no, that’s not it at all—”

“then why do you keep rejecting me?” you cut him off, crossing your arms over your chest. you probably look and sound desperate, but the truth is you were. the first few times could be deemed funny, but there’s so much rejection a girl can take before it starts to become an insecurity. “why do you keep pushing me away? am i that unattractive to you?”

you’d never seen him look so panicked in his life. had it been under any other circumstance, you woulda laughed at the way his pupils blew widely and how his hands started waving all over the place, “no! jesus, are you kidding me— have you seen yourself? what sane man would think that—”

“what sane man wouldn’t want sex?” you bite back, and he’s taken aback. you see it in the way the words in his mouth die down, the way his body stills just slightly, the way his arms drop to his sides. you continue, “what sane man wouldn’t want head? what sane man solely focuses on pleasing a woman and not himself—”

“hey,” gojo frowns. “any sane man would aim to please his partner first and foremost.”

“well usually sane men accept the favour when offered back to them!” you counter, and once more, gojo was cornered into the wall. he remained quiet, an ideaology uncharacteristic to a man like himself, and waited for you to get it off your chest.

“it’s just. . .” you sigh, licking your lips. and he watches you, intently. you’re almost too embarrassed to say it, but enough was enough. “i just don’t get it! i’m thinking it’s because i’m unattractive to you but—”

“i’ve literally came in my pants from eating you out.” he interrupts, raising an eyebrow. your face deadpans as does his. he’s dead serious too. oh that bastard, “multiple times, may i add. try again.”

“then it has to be you think i’m dirty.” you assume, and he tilts his head to the side with an expression that screams ‘seriously’. your annoyance builds up the more he looks at you like you’re crazy for him denying you of his pleasure. “i can assure you i’m clean— i’m not some fucking whore.”

“and i can assure you that thought has never once crossed my mind.” gojo snorts, body language now looser. his hands sit in the pockets of his sweats, a taunting smile on his lips. “what’s the next excuse?”

“oh that’s rich coming from you,” you sneer, poking your finger at his chest. he snorts again, and you feel like you’re about to lose your mind. “what else could it possibly be? you’re so fucking confusing, toru, i have no idea what goes on in your mind!”

“you, all the time.” gojo shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing. he says it as if you asked him if the sky was blue or if grass was green. “you go through my mind all the time. it’s that simple, really.”

“stop the bullshit, satoru.” you frown, pinching the bridge of your nose. your head was starting to ache, and you’d come for closure on this torment, but of course he had to stretch it out.

“but i’m being so serious?” he tilts his head. “it really is just you. you don’t think i want your lips wrapped around my cock? to feel how tight your pussy would be around me? seriously?”

“then why don’t you let me?!” you sigh exasperatedly, throwing your arms in the air. you didn’t understand this at all— you were both on the same page here, so why didn’t he let you? was he ashamed or something?

he goes quiet again, and you’re contemplating on storming out of his room. you give him a few seconds to collect his thoughts, to decide on whether he wants to finally tell you the truth or find another plausible excuse that would have you drive back home.

there’s this look of embarrassment all over his face, his eyes unable to look at you. he scratches the corner of his mouth, lips tugging into a sheepish smile. “i’m. . . scared. kinda.”

you blink at him. “wait— are you a virgin?”

“no!” he immediately defends himself, and you raise an eyebrow at his sudden eagerness. he waves his hands around again to affirm his statement, “i’m not!”

“so. . . you’re a slut?” you ask instead, and he face palms himself. the nerve he had, to face palm himself when he’s giving you the faintest of clues. what were you supposed to understand from that alone?

“y/nnnn!” he drags out your name childishly, the skin of his cheeks flushed a bright pink. he hides his face in the palms of his hands, as if to cower himself away from this discussion. you think the sight is cute actually— a grown man shy about his sex life. how ironic.

“just spit it out.” you tut and he peels his hands away from his face. your eyes narrow as you wait on his answer, watching him fidget with his fingers and shy his gaze away from you. the wall at your side had to be so damn interesting if he couldn’t hold eye contact with you.

you sigh, “i promise i won’t make fun of you.”

your word alone seems to offer some sort of comfort. his lips part to speak, but it feels like an eternity and a half before words finally come out. “i. . . i don’t wanna embarrass myself in front of you.”

now you’re confused. “whadya mean?”

he grumbles, lips falling into that pout he does whenever he doesn’t get something done his way. there’s a crease in his brows, a frown so deep you’re worried you said something wrong.

“i didn’t want to give you the ick, okay?” gojo finally sputters, the blush on his cheeks now spreading down the base of his neck. he can feel his heartbeat thudding excessively loud against his rib cage, and his hands are starting to get moist.

woah, he must be really embarrassed. but about what? was he insecure about his penis?

“why would you give me the ick, toru?” you speak slowly, not wanting to scare him off. you take a step closer to him when you notice he took one back, resting a gentle hand on his bicep. your thumb rubs at his skin in what you hope is a soothing manner.

his eyes shift from the wall to your gentle touch. his bottom lip quivers and he takes in a big breath, before redirecting his gaze on you.

“because you’re you and i’m me!” he starts off, as if ready to confess everything. you take it as a good sign however. “it’s you we’re talking about— god, you’re so pretty and sexy and kind, and so attractive it fucking hurts— i’ve literally busted to your taste alone! i’m so fucking whipped it’s embarrassing. i literally think about you all the time— in bed, in the car, in the shower— i think about how good you smell and how sweet you taste and how addictive your smile is! all i have to do is think about you and i’m instantly hard— i’m like a fucking dog you trained!”

for once today, you’re left speechless.

“and- and,” he continues, “i had to master self-control. me, satoru gojo, had to learn to hold myself back. do you know how many times i’ve nearly folded? hm? how many times i almost caved in and damn near ripped your clothes off with my teeth? you’ve turned me into an animal! i’ve wanted you for an eternity, but i know myself— i wouldn’t last a second with my dick in your mouth! that’s what i’m scared of, i’m scared of embarrassing myself to you and you’ll run off or something and i’ll end up rotting and dying alone from embarrassment and—”

“okay, okay.” you hold a hand up to cut off his rant. he was starting to babble, and soon he would flow into an inescapable hole of self-wallowing. “i think i get it now.”

he’s breathing heavy, pupils blown wide. his lips are quivering and you can tell he’s really anxious of your answer. you’d never seen him so shaken, as if your next words would make or break his entire world.

well, here goes nothing. “i hooked up with another man.” you think you heart his heart shatter in his chest. his face goes slack as does his body, and he immediately reverts his eyes away from yours.

“oh.”

you realize you could’ve started a bit differently. “it didn’t really go far, because i was so preoccupied thinking about you.” you sigh shakily. “everything felt wrong, even when i tried convincing myself it wasn’t, but i couldn’t help but think of you, even with another man around.”

gojo remains quiet, and you’re not even sure where you’re going with this. what are these feelings you’re feeling?

“listen, i don’t know what that guilt was but i know i never want to feel it again.” your hand proceeds to run at his skin. he hasn’t pushed you off yet, so you’re hoping it’s working. “this whole time i was thinking i was unappealing to you, and you’re afraid of flattering me?”

gojo shoots his head up at that, “flattering you?”

you snort, loving the dumb look on his face. he didn’t have a fucking clue, did he? “do you have any idea what that would do to my ego? knowing i was able to make you nut off of head alone?”

“heyyy, don’t go using it against me!” he whines, pouting. “’s your fault anyway— how is somebody that perfect? i don’t get it, you’re genuinely unreal. i almost don’t like it.”

well he surely knew a way around with his words. you giggle, sliding the hand around his bicep up to the back of his neck. your other arm mimics, as your fingers card through his undercut. you can feel him shuddering beneath your touch, and he instinctively cups at your waist.

“now that i know your reasoning, i’m not gonna pressure you into anything you don’t wanna do.” you stare him up through your lashes. you weren’t sure how you didn’t see it before, but now they everything is clear, you swear you see hearts swimming in his orbs. cute. “but, you wouldn’t scare me off, toru. i can’t believe i’m saying this but i might be stuck with you— you say you’re a trained dog, then what does that make me? thought about you while another man ate me out.”

he frowns at that. oops. “he wasn’t better than me. . . was he?”

“never.” you shake your head, and feel the way his shoulders sag in relief. “and if it makes you feel better, we didn’t kiss and i never gave him a blowjob.”

he’s still pouting, but his nose scrunches in the way he does when he wants you to drown him with attention. when had you start noticing these details? “it does. . . i guess.”

“toruuu, you have to forgive me.” it’s your turn to pout, nails scraping at his scalp as your lashes flutter. you rise to the tip of your toes to plant a soft kiss on his lips— lustless. there’s a soft smack that separates both your pair of mouths, and you see the corner of his mouth threaten to twitch into a smile. his hold on your waist tightens and pulls you in closer. “want me to show you just how sorry am i?”

“mhm,” he mumbles, eyes stuck on the plumpness of your lips. he wants them back on his, and that��s exactly what he does, leaning forward to seal another chaste kiss. when he does pull away, it’s just slightly, tips of your noses still grazing one another. he bumps noses with yours, “prove it t’me.”

your cheeks feel like they’ll split with how widely you’re smiling, but that ends as soon as it came, when he lunges forward to kiss you again.

his jaw slacks as he ravishes your lips, tongues sloshing as he releases pretty moans into your mouth. you fed him everywhere— his tongue dancing at the roof of your mouth, his hands caressing your ass, the rhythm of his heartbeat through his chest vibrating against your own.

you walk forwards, lips never leaving his, as his steps move backwards. he tastes as sweet as always, a faint cherry flavour resting on his taste buds. soon enough he’s laid on his back on his own bed with you hovering him, your thighs resting at his sides. his hands grip at the meat on your legs.

“‘m gonna make you feel so good,” you pull away from his lips and trail your hand down his torso, all the way to his briefs’ waistband. “you’ve never had anything like it.” surely enough, he’s harder than he’s ever been, the outline of his cock seeping through the material of his pants. your hand slides lower to cup at the bulge, feeling up on his dick through your fingers, and he whines into your mouth, hips thrusting up into your touch.

“p-please, i’m— oh fuckkk,” he begs, moans croaking out of his throat as you slip your hand into his underwear. your touches are light, wanting to tease him as you collect endless beads of pre cum at the tip of your fingers. his hips never cease to buck into your palm, desperate for more.

“enough waiting, hm?” you tug down at his undergarments, and immediately get slapped in the face. his dick is nothing to scoff at— you’d only seen and felt it through the material of his pants, but now that it was bare and right before your eyes? his length had nothing on your imagination. with a pretty pink mushroom tip, vein throbbing on the underside, heavy balls and a cute curve to the left, his dick undoubtedly had your mouth watering.

he’s twitching sans cease, as if it had a mind of its own.

“can’t believe you were holding out me, toru,” you lick your lips, laying flat on your own stomach, between his legs. he’s pushed up on his elbows, watching as you stroke his cock languidly. “you’re so mean.” your fists tightens at the top of his cock, thumb rubbing at his oozing slit, before loosening your hold as you lower to the base.

he gulps, hands scrunching at the duvets beneath him. you’re giving him these eyes, and your fleeting touches on his dick will surely have him lose his mind. “stop teasing meee, i’ll—nghh!” you kiss the tip of his cock,

and in the blink of an eye, he cums. your eyes shut as ropes of hot, white cum shoot at your face, from all different kinds of directions. he cums, and it’s a lot. it almost feels never ending, as does his cries. his back arches and his hips hump the air, cock twitching uncontrollably as it erupts.

“oh nooo— shit, ngh, fuck— can’t help it!” veins bulge in his forearm with how intensely he’s gripping onto the covers. you think it’s rather adorable, how easily overwhelmed he gets.

it takes a lifetime for his high to come down. and through it all, you’re pumping at his cock, milking him for what he has to offer. silently of course, you’re not even sure he’d be able to hear anything you have to say with how vocal he is.

when it all becomes too much, he starts shivering from oversensitivity, and his cock jumps weakly. you pull your hand away, and his dick falls onto his lower stomach. he’s breathing heavily, head thrown back as you clean the cum off your face. you pop a finger in your mouth, he tastes sweet. “hm.”

“just,” gojo pauses, taking another deep breath in. the ceiling must be real interesting for him. “just go on with it. but don’t say i didn’t tell you so.”

you smirk, now popping the finger out of your mouth with a wet plop! “you really weren’t kidding.”

hmm can anybody guess who the “mystery man” you hooked up with is ? 🌚

#rena☆star.#jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo headcanons #gojo thirst

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