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she’s cute, gojo tells him one day.
you’re one of the few classmates that consistently caught his attention over that last few months. while everyone else fawns over the ground he walks on, you timidly keep your distance and wave when you pass on campus. gojo finds himself seeking you out on curiosity, wondering if it’s all an act to draw him in.
to him, you’re a sliver of impossibility that he thought he couldn’t have. a figure so distanced from the limelight he’s use to. there is nothing pompous or prideful, just genuine interest though somewhat subdue. but compared to him, who wasn’t?
after spending a few hours over study dates and coffee, he decided he doesn’t care.
he wants you.
and so he informs the one person he probably shouldn’t.
sukuna blows out a billow of smoke. gojo tends to frequent the tattoo shop in his free time, loitering in the lounge area and talking up customers. it would be more annoying if it didn’t attract interest.
he was like a pretty little puppy that window shoppers couldn’t resist. eventually he proved he was more than just a nice face to look at as well. and sukuna wasn’t too prideful to admit that as those same smug eyes were looking up at him from the floor.
“so you’re going to fuck her or what?”
and why are you telling me?
sukuna figured the pretty boy would have fucked off by now. had his taste of common food and skipped back to the life of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. yet he remained a constant that managed to give more than he took.
he knew that the white haired man was of wealth; he dressed and carried himself too well to not be. sukuna did his due diligence when it came time to vote but the yearly gatherings were the limitations of his knowledge of politics; so finding out that gojo was the son of a politician came as a surprise.
he’s not even that great of a minister. he’s as old as his morals, gojo had explained snidely. there was obviously no love lost there.
apparently moving half way across the country was a mutual agreement between father and son as long as he pursued political science.
it was likely that was all his father knew he got up to. certainly wasn’t expecting his acclaimed protege son to frequent the presence and beds of unsavory characters.
sukuna taps his fag against the tray and watches as the other man sides up to him. it took him awhile to get use to the affections. little brushes of fingers positioned so innocently while his lips did all the dirty work.
gojo chuckles, immune to the crassness. “eventually. thought you might like to join.”
blinking away the distraction settling at his nape, sukuna grumbles.
“and what makes you think that?”
gojo warms the place against his front, palms smoothing away the wrinkles at his chest.
“because you like to corrupt pretty little things like this.”
the man snorts, bemused. as if gojo hadn’t come with his own brand of poison. “you wandered in here on your own, satoru.”
“so you admit i’m pretty?”
he rolls his eyes but indulges him with a quirk of the lips. agreeing was the only way to progress this conversation. and eventually gojo would get what he wanted.
“why are you telling me this?”
“because i want you to meet her “
he snuffs out the cigarette “then what?”
gojo shrugs, “i guess we’ll find out.”
gojo shoots you a text later that week. it comes as an unexpected surprise, but he’s confident enough that you wont turn him down. naturally, he’s right, not only because it’s gojo but because it wasn’t as if you had any other appointments on a friday night.
you’re about as nervous as to be expected. how could you not when he’d invited you under the pretense of drinks for two and added a third party without your knowledge. you showed up in a simple but cute dress, deemed fitting despite the setting at first, but now you weren’t so sure.
not all of you assumed this would be like a date. gojo had singled you out on multiple occasions up until now, appointing you as his ‘buddy’ in different categories: studying, lunch and coffee.
now you were his drinking buddy. but apparently he had more than one.
sukuna ryomen was his name. but he preferred sukuna. no, almost demanded it, but in a firm drawl that left no room for discussion.
where gojo shared your interest in sugary drinks, he seemed content nursing a beer.
you tried hard not to zero in on the dark art running down his filled out arms in neat circles and bold lines. he wasn’t the kind of friend you’d anticipated for gojo but frankly neither were you.
now here you were, settled in a cozy booth finishing up the second round.
“honestly, i don’t know what i’d do without you in class. sukuna here thinks everything can be solved with anarchy.”
gojo was sitting close, much closer than he had wherever the two of you shared space to revise notes. at first you thought it was an accident, booth seats always made it hard to gauge the room. but whenever you shifted to grant him more, he refilled it with his presence.
now he was making it very difficult for you to follow his story while his arm lounged comfortably behind you, fingertips whispering at the back of your neck.
and then there was sukuna, whose dark vermilion eyes hadn’t left you for a second. you were a new face, you reasoned. he likely just wanted to get to know you better. even though his lips hadn’t parted to ask a single question. though with the way gojo was carrying the conversations it wasn’t as if he had many opportunities.
it didn’t make you uncomfortable in the way you thought it would be. if anything it made you more curious as to what he would do whenever he found what he was looking for.
the glass of his empty mug clinks against the table as he slides it over to the growing number lined up at the end,” not everyone has time to sit back and analyze the consequences. it’s better to just take what you want.”
his gaze feels like it’s searing through you, bringing a clammy flush to your skin prompting you rub your palms against your thighs and avert your eyes.
across the table sukuna snorts. and much closer, gojo chuckles in your ear.
“i guess i have been dancing around the topic for awhile now.”
no, he was much closer, the brush of his clothing registering as he crowds in.
the grip on your chin is gentle at first, testing the waters before becoming more firm in the absence of protest. you think to yourself, there is no way this wouldn’t have ended like this. two men inviting you out to drinks without preamble.
or perhaps it had been in front of you the whole time and you just failed to read between the lines. he waits there, poised for a complaint or show of disinterest, not the least bit nonplussed when his search comes up empty as your lips part in invitation.
it’s as clear as day now as gojo seals his mouth to yours, tongue seeking entrance without preamble. you don’t know what you expected kissing him to be like. maybe more demanding than the gently coaxing he draws you into, a quiet rhythm of smacked lips that lulls you into a brief sense of security.
when he breaks away, it’s to look across the table. you don’t need to follow his gaze
“let’s take you home.”
home was gojo’s flat. a place that you had frequented before, not chosen by chance. nothing tonight was outside of the scope of preparation it seemed. you were just late to the punchline. gojo’s hand hadn’t left yours since departing from the bar as he lead you through the entrance.
he had moved far from home in an attempt to escape his father’s limelight but the wealth followed. he lived comfortably in one of the upscale complexes further outside of the typical student body living arrangements and price range.
it was all neat walls and expensive countertops. you think you saw a maid once during a weekend morning session to finish up a group project.
today, most of it is a mere blur as you were led to the couch by gojo who then pushed you unceremoniously into sukuna’s awaiting lap.
the man grunted at the weight but didn’t make any further noise of objection. this was the closest you’d been to the man thus far, not that he made any indication of being strangers as he arm curls around your waist. his other hand grips you under your chin to tilt your face towards him.
where gojo coaxed, you were beginning to learn that sukuna directed.
his breath dances across your lips as he studies your face. “you gonna kiss me like you did satoru? make all those pretty sounds?”
maybe you nod, could have just been a weak whimper, either way it was taken as consent.
sukuna tastes different- beyond the contrasting drink choices. where gojo was sweet, he was savory with a hint of mint and tobacco. he opened your mouth as if he’d made the key himself, tongue flicking alongside yours.
you’re aware of gojo sinking into the couch next to you, then his mouth was on your throat, sucking the beginnings of discolored splotches that you would have to deal with in the morning.
sukuna swallows down your eager moan, pulling back to nibble on your bottom lip. “good with his mouth isn’t he? maybe you should show her what else you can do.” the latter half is directed at gojo.
they have a level of communication that expands past just knowing one another because one moment gojo is licking up the column of your throat and the next he’s sliding to his knees.
sukuna grips your waist and moves you to face away from him, hands sliding down to your legs to part them enough for him to slot in between.
they both seem to appreciate your fashion choices, as sukuna’s fingers curl at the hem of your dress and drags it up your skin. he adjusts your knees to hang over his thighs, allowing him to widen them when he wants.
a nod or sound of affirmant is all they need. the crucial element that you hold close to your chest. none of this could progress without you. and while both men were brimming with brittle restraint, they gave pause.
as if you could stand in the garden of eden and not bite the apple.
gojo doesn’t waste time with timid fingers. he doesn’t comment on the wetness showing through the fabric. just pulls it aside to run the flat of his tongue along your slit.
your thighs tremble as he lays kitten kicks against your cunt. large hands hold you steady, one cupping your hip, while the other hooks the inside of your knee over his shoulder to spread you open further.
sukuna whispers dirty instructions in your ear as you lean back against his chest.
“don’t let him have all the control. lock your fingers in his hair and lead him where you want.”
and you do, digits tightening firmer than planned in your daze, though gojo doesn’t seem to mind as he groans his appreciation into your folds. bitten gasps leave your lips as you rock your hips experimentally against him, managing to catch the curve of his tongue just right on downward thrusts. this was certainly not the expectation you had when you had first accepted gojo’s invitation to sit next to him in the library, but the result was euphoric toast to your decision making.
little sounds tickled the back of your throat, hips jerking out of rhythm as you rode his face. and sukuna hadn’t paused his commentary for a second as his fingers joined the fray to rub tight circles against your hood.
“you wont last long like this,’’ he breaths against your cheek. “look at you, already trembling. betta you wanna.”
come? the orgasm felt like it had well overstayed its welcome at the pit of your stomach before it drops to your core. gojo slurps unbiased through the spurts and spasms as you scum to the borderline overstimulation.
it’s sukuna who comes to your rescue, using the same soiled hand to weave through your fingers and replace your grip with his own. with a tug harsher than you would have expected, he pulls the other man up to meet his lips.
you watch daze, but unperturbed, as sukuna licks at his lips. their song and dance is too practiced to be an accumulation of passion from just tonight. sukuna kisses like he owns and gojo plays submissive just fine.
they break apart breathing heavily and gojo collapses against the small space against sukuna’s chest not occupied by you.
you’re too taken with sukuna’s spit slicken lips to offer much of concern as those scarlet eyes assess the situation. his gaze flickers from one body to the next before settling on the more familiar.
“let me have him first and take him down a few notches. otherwise he’ll be rutting in your tight cunt like a virgin.”
taking the light tap against you rear as a silent command, you stand on woobly legs as sukuna pulls gojo with him to the floor. the man lets himself be dragged like a doll, drunk on desire as he holds sukuna’s face in his hands to draw him in.
sukuna humors him. ”aw, look at the pretty baby. bet you want more kisses, is that it? need to butter you up to get you nice and wet?”
something between a whine and whimper squeezes out of gojo’s throat. something so unexpected until you note the keen wanton yearning trapped in those blue orbs.
it was obvious that the two of them had something- an agreement more tangible that a simple tryst.
sukuna could be harsher, simply tug the other man to his chest and have his way. but he decided on a sweeter approach as his hands curled into gojo’s hips instead of stretching his shirt.
it only took a guiding twirl of his finger before gojo got the hint and flipped on his back.
sukuna leans over the feast laid out under him. “you have to excuse him sometimes. he can be such a greedy boy,” he speaks to you all while his lips follow the line of gojo’s jaw, eliciting shivers in its wake. “always wanting more. it’s a good thing he’s such a giver.”
sukuna does something, perhaps a pinch to the side that makes gojo’s body go slack, mouth open in invitation. sukuna takes advantage of the sharp exhale, forcing his tongue into the aperture, commanding and strong.
you didn’t account for gojo looking so good spread out on his back. frankly, you thought it would be you laid out like an offering for the taking. but here he was stealing the show yet again like the beautiful man he was.
the majority of his focus was on sukuna- and how can he not when the man settles his weight on his elbows to hover above. gojo manages to send you a sneaky wink before sukuna descends upon him, capturing his lips in a possessive kiss.
they look so intoxicating as gojo slides his hands into the short of sukuna’s hair, dull nails scratching at the shaved back. like the prince he is, gojo waits sukuna to do all the work as he makes a quick exit of their clothing until they are both bare before your eyes.
it’s impossible for your attention not to stray from their faces to the inviting space between their pelvis. neither cock is completely hard but their both leaking with excitement. it’s because sukuna decides to fist his in the moment that you’re drawn to the fat head wrapped in hot and velvety skin.
he fists himself once, then twice before groaning. “want to help me out, princess?”
you shiver at the implications of gojo moving before you do. his shoulders lift in preparation of the task but sukuna’s hand is there to push them back down with a tsk,” relax, satoru, don’t be such an eager slut. i have two pretty mouths here tonight, remember? besides, i wasn’t talking to you.”
and then those vermillion eyes are focused behind him and you can feel his words dripping down your spine, the crass implication twisting white heat in the pit of your stomach.
sukuna curls a finger at you,” c’mere, kitten. don’t worry, i won’t make you work too hard. but get rid of that dress first.”
you pride yourself on your ability unzip yourself despite the quiver of your fingers. from there the clothing pools at your feet with just a shift of your shoulders. sukuna doesn’t have to ask twice for your knees to drop to the ground beside him as you bend over the pair.
he knows what he wants, muttering a breathy more tongue before palming the back of your neck to guide you. experience isn’t foreign to you and you know how to wet the underside of a cock. curling you lips over your teeth and cheeks hollowing, you take in what you can as your hand moves in tandem to cater to the rest. you swallow in increments, following the pulse as it thrums against his veins.
sukuna brushes back your stray hairs in pseudo comfort before his grip tightens at the end of the stroke, fingers curling into an anchor.
his kiss of gratitude as he pulls you off is unexpected.” now ,you just sit there and keep your cunt stuffed for him. i wont take long.”
he bends at the torso and reaches behind you in search of something underneath the cushions of the couch. the bottle of lube he pulls free confirms and lingering suspicions. sukuna keeps his gaze level with gojo’s flushed face as he strokes lube down his cock with a closed fist.
the process of him working gojo open on his fingers is a deliberate but careful process. there is very little exploration before gojo jerks with a choked cry. sukuna follows with a second finger, lips pulled in a sneer. you watched dazedly from the sidelines as you work the remainder of your undergarments free of your body.
another whine and your pussy clenches around the empty instruction, long forgotten as sukuna lines up.
gojo’s impatient hole allows him to bury to the hilt in only a few shallow thrusts. he sucks in a sharp breath and you can see him clenching around sukuna as his body shivers in anticipation.
“kitten,” it takes effort to lift your gaze. sukuna’s brow raises with cynicism. “fingers. pussy.”
biting your lip, you do as you’re told, working yourself full of two digits without preamble. it gets you a grin from sukuna as he nods towards your obedience before reverting his attention to the mess splayed out under him.
“well let’s not pussyfoot on the runway. you’ve got a girl to fuck.”
sukuna’s muscles ripple in a show of strength as he manhandles gojo’s hips higher on his lap. he begins to move, hard and fast, fucking him in earnest. gojo slides back and forth against the carpet from the force of his thrust, taking advantage of the friction it provides to meet the furious tempo with each undulation. his arms come up to wrap around sukuna, dull nails digging in as his knuckles turn white. sukuna follows the pull as he hunches over to drive in with a stronger rhythm. it’s impossible not to latch onto the visual as your hips rock in tandem, speeding up with the change in tempo.
sukuna’s teeth sink into gojo’s shoulder just as he starts to keen. when gojo topples over, its beautiful, mouth agape as his body seizes up in orgasm. his cock trembles with short spurts as ropes of while splatter against his skin. the sound of sukuna following is more carnal as he hisses through clenched teeth. a harsh curse escapes him, hips stuttering as he sinks in once, twice more before stilling with a groan.
he braces his hand against gojo’s cum slicked abs as he pulls out with a wet squelch. clearly satidfied, he admires the panting heap. his palm slaps condescendingly against gojo’s sweaty cheek, “don’t punk out on us now, satoru.”
despite the wrecked image he gives off, the cock resting heavily against his stomach is still wet and hard. gojo is slower to rise to action despite the prompting, but does so regardless of the heavy weight of his legs.
you note the beginnings of an angry red rash forming on his back as he rolls onto his knees. gojo peeks over his shoulder, catching your concern as he stretches to encourage blood flow.
“yeah the carpet looks softer than what it is. want to move to the bed?”
using the couch as support, sukuna brings one legs to his chest as the other lays open without shame. “don’t let him baby you. hands and knees, kitten.”
your fingers feel tacky against the carpet as you do what you’re told. both men groan audibly in appreciation as you dip lower press your breast against the floor without the added instruction. gojo’s hands give him away by their slender digits as they follow the curve of your rear. a breathless chuckles sounds behind when you tense in anticipation for the slap that never comes.
there is some shifting, then a flimsy weight lands on your back.
sukuna drawls lazily, but there is a pinch there that can’t be ignored. “this idiot is so used to raw, now that he forgets that not everyone gets that privilege.” there is something else weighted behind his words that you don’t have the opportunity to decipher right now.
gojo laughs easily but doesn’t challenge the remark. a few moments later, his hands return to your body. the way his sweaty palms stick to your skin is uncomfortably intimate in this surreal atmosphere. but it remains as only a fragment of a thought as the head of his cock nudges against your entrance.
this is really happening. despite all the concrete evidence leading up to this moment, it still comes as a weighted reality that you’re about to be fucked by gojo satoru. are being fucked as his cock drags resistance against your channel, inciting friction in the most pleasurable of ways.
you almost wish the position allowed you to hold his hand, suddenly craving something to tether you to this moment.
“it’s a shame you can’t see her face, satoru. you’d think she was getting fucked by her favorite idol.”
sukuna’s words light a fire under your skin as gojo takes the first precursory thrust. if its meant to be a distraction from the voyeuristic thoughts seeping into your mind, it works as you adjust your stance to take him deeper.
your head falls back and is met with the dip of his shoulder. it’s almost embarrassing, the tone of adoration as you moan his name. your mind can’t seem to comprehend that he’s purring against your temple, lips meeting the crown with every jerk of his lips. “gonna have to do this again when i can take you slower- really take you apart. “
you should be squealing at the prospect of the insinuation but the storm raiding your nerve endings. gojo rocks into you, snapping his hips forward hard enough to take your body with him. you’ve already lasted longer than you thought you would, the accumulation of friction overwhelming your senses as you note the blinding white nirvana on the horizon.
gojo’s thrusts come fast, edging the tail ends of desperation as his hips lose rhythm to sloppiness. with a sharp cry, your body gives into the spasm of release, arms giving out. the carpet burns the swell of your cheek as gojo chases his high through the tension of your sex.
when you return to your senses, you’re greeted with peppered kisses down the line of your back. gojo is limp but still nestled comfortably within you, nudging slow reminders with languid rolls of his hips. he doesn’t seem to be pursuing anything, just simply riding the waves as his cheek nuzzles your skin. you can feel his mouth forming words there, sounding equally as exhausted and overwhelmed as you feel.
his breath feels cool against the sweat.“we should probably move this to the bed. i don’t want to make a bigger mess for the maid to clean.”
somewhere behind you, sukuna has gotten to his feet. there is a distinct rustling of clothing though you doubt they’re more than a bundle tucked away in his arms. “you make your maid clean up your come? and you call me an asshole.”
gojo seems unmotivated to move, sounding like a petulant child as he snarks back. “well you can lick it up if you’re so concerned.”
“why don’t you get in bed and I’ll give you something to lick.”
gojo follows your sound of discontent when he pulls out with a light smack of his lips against the side of your head. “don’t worry, he’s always like that,’ he remarks dryly.
it was apparent that the showcase had ended and wouldn’t be adjourned as a private show. you had no expectations of sukuna lingering, though you felt complied to have said something. thanks? undoubtedly, you were the first exclusion between the two of them, just a particular taste for the evening. no part of you was resentful, you’d been amicable for the start adterall. now you would just need to piece together where that left you.
gojo would still be your classmate when you exited for the flat. you would have to use the weekend to scrap together a modicum of respect for yourself before classes resumed on monday. by then you should have been able to at least seal away sukuna to the recesses of your mind.
yeah, maybe you could move on.
you’re just managing to get stability in your legs when the same man calls out distantly from the hall.
“bring her too. i’m not done with her yet.”