SATORU GOJO || FWB

The infuriating smirk playing on Gojo’s lips was starting to unravel the carefully constructed composure cultivated over your twenty-one years.

The two of you had been communicating regularly.

It had begun innocently enough—a casual DM that somehow snagged attention amidst the university's relentless current of fleeting connections. Hookup culture wasn’t a subculture here; it was culture. And Gojo, with his effortless charm, navigated it like a seasoned predator.

Now, lounging in the corner of his sparsely decorated dorm room, perched on a beanbag, he was meticulously scrutinizing a half-hearted attempt at coursework. As if the pretense of academic assistance was anything more than a torment.

It took ten, exquisitely drawn-out minutes of increasingly not-so subtle hints thrown at him before he gave it up. He admitted he’d been teasing, waiting to see just how long it’d be before you desperate.

Then he ate you out like you were his last meal, leaving your pussy spasming before he even lined his dick up with your entrance.

Gojo made a show of licking up as much of you as possible, a loud slurping sound bouncing off the walls.

Rolling onto his back, he watched with lazy amusement as you moved to return the favor. A glance at the clock registered a growing urgency—he had around thirty minutes before he was supposed to head to some bar with his roommate.

“It’s too late for that...come sit on it.” He murmured, a husky command followed by a subtle tug at the hem of his shirt. Muscles flexed with the movement as he leaned back against the headboard.

Your thighs straddled him, and he watched with amusement as you sunk down onto his veiny cock with ease, still wet.

His hands gripped your waist, and he began to thrust up, unable to hold back any longer.

“Lemme hear you,” Gojo commanded, a hand landing with stinging force against a thigh.

A muffled chuckle sounds out from his chest as the bass from Sukuna's music throbbed through the walls – a familiar soundtrack to these clandestine encounters. Both boys were used to the other bringing girls home by this point.

Without slipping too far out, he flips you over, now on top of you. Taking your left leg and bringing it over his shoulder, he fucks into you harder. Gripping the headboard behind you with a free hand, you could now hear the bed knocking.

“Mhm, fuck.” He grunts, “Open wider f’me. So tight.”

His expression is delicious.

“Should’ve been fucking this pussy.”

“I’m gonna need you to be quieter baby, or I can’t eat it.”

The infuriatingly smug curve of Gojo’s lips hadn’t faltered once since you’d arrived a mere twelve minutes ago. Now, he was buried knuckles deep into your cunt, stretching you to the absolute limit, and he was demanding silence.

Each thrust of his hand was a deliberate torment, a slow burn that had you teetering on the edge. Little whimpers escaped, despite desperate attempts to stifle them, betraying the mounting pleasure.

He nipped a path down your body, parting your thighs with an aggression that made your clit jump. Just as he neared that exquisitely sensitive spot, he retreated, rising to test your limits once more.

Gojo nipped down your body, parting your thighs with an aggression that made your clit twitch.

Right before he reached that spot, he rose up again. “Hmm. Turn over f’me—I wanna eat it from the back.”

As you obeyed, his hands traced the curve of your spine, ensuring you were positioned for complete, uninhibited exposure. He leaned back, a low groan escaping his throat as he took in the view.

“Shit...” he murmured, before descending to press a lingering kiss to your swollen flesh, followed by a slow, deliberate lick that stretched your opening.

Minutes melted away, lost in the escalating sensation. Your face was buried in the pillow, muffled moans the only testament to your unraveling control.

Your legs had long since given out, the only support the firm grip of his hands holding your hips aloft as he continued his relentless assault.

To say he was skilled was an understatement. He devoured you with a practiced ease, and it pissed you off.

He noticed the mounting desperation in your squirming, the urgent plea in the tightening of your muscles.

“Uh-uh, not done yet.” A hand pressed against your lower back, and the subtle downward motion was all the warning you needed.

With a fluid motion, he flipped you onto your back, the transition seamless. Then, he plunged in again.

“Mhm.” A satisfied hum vibrated against your core.

You and Gojo had been seeing each other whenever you could.

Friends—with—benefits, most would say.

But you were unsure on if you could even really call it that.

You weren’t exactly friends, sure, he’d help you with your homework often, sure, but maybe it was more befitting to say that you were strangers.

Yup, just that.

That stranger had been relentlessly touchy the moment you stepped into his dorm.

With Sukuna absent, the promise of unrestrained noise was clearly affecting him, a distinct bulge pressing against his jeans.

He didn’t want to wait — not when he’d been holding off on any sort of sex lately, saving it for this moment specifically.

“Take em’ the fuck off,” He growled, looming over you on the bed, a predatory glint in his eye.

His teeth nipped at the exposed skin of your neck, and he easily soothed the spot with his tongue, while you made deft work of pulling down your skirt and thong in one go.

His fingers trailed downwards, gathering the slick moisture and using it to draw tight, insistent circles around your clit. “So wet.”

He circled a few more times, then dipped a finger inside, and froze.

“The fuck?”

Something was off.

He could tell you’d been fucked recently, and it hadn’t been by him.

You weren’t sure how he knew, only that he’d pulled away, fast.

It had taken monumental effort to get him this close, this invested, and you braced yourself to swallow your pride and apologize for whatever the fuck you’d done.

Gojo wasn’t in love with you, never that. But it still stung, a sharp prick of irritation knowing you were still fucking around, getting your pleasure elsewhere. If he'd known, he’d have been doing the same. He had a roster of eager candidates on speed dial.

“Who else you fucking with?” He asked, his voice clipped and cold, the mood fractured.

If you were doing anything after this, it would be on his time. And rough.

Then, he'd call up his other hoes. Because clearly you had no problem doing that.

You wanted to fuck — but one slip of the tongue and you’d accidentally told him you were flunking one of your classes.

That was what had landed you in this predicament.

Now, he was forcing you into the university’s library, steering you toward a secluded corner.

“Alright. Lay it on me.” He said, a smirk playing on his lips. “Your work, I mean.” He settled into a chair, legs spread wide, hands resting casually on his thighs.

He was definitely teasing you.

Gojo couldn't quite articulate why he’d offered to help. He told himself it was a simple act of kindness, a momentary lapse into decency. It was a flimsy excuse, even he knew that.

But it wasn’t like you were just some hookup.

Gojo ignored those thoughts and leaned in.

He hummed, scanning your laptop screen. “What class is this again?”

Gojo’s eyes had found yours the moment you entered, and he found himself inexplicably drawn toward you.

He was deliberately complicating things, twisting your desires into a knot of anticipation and frustration, and he knew it. But he had needs, selfish and demanding, that only you seemed capable of fulfilling.

That’s how your friend group unexpectedly found itself combined with his, crammed into a corner of the room, surrounded by the haze of weed smoke and drinks sloshing.

Geto’s parties were legendary, a swirling vortex of debauchery and carefully curated chaos. Of course, Gojo had made sure you and your friends received invitations.

“It’ll be chill,” he had insisted earlier over text. “You don’t even gotta talk to me. Ima fuck the shit outta you after, though.”

Now, halfway through the night, regret was beginning to settle.

As expected, Sukuna was being a monumental asshole, his gaze burning into you and your friends the moment you entered.

“Fuck is she doing here?” he snarled, singling you out.

Not they, but you.

That’s when you knew he had a personal vendetta.

“You knew she was coming,” Choso interjected from his perch on a sofa.

You bristled, annoyed that he was the one defending you, while Gojo was too consumed with carefully rolling a blunt to even notice the tension.

“I told your dumbass she was coming,” Gojo murmured absentmindedly, not even looking up.

Geto arrived then, scanning the newcomers with a bored disinterest.

“Yo, would it be weird if I left my own party to go fuck?” he asked, the question hanging in the air. A chorus of whoops erupted.

“Bout time you got some pussy, bro,” Sukuna muttered, and the others egged him on.

“Need some words of encouragement?” Gojo teased, earning himself a sharp slap on the shoulder.

“Yeah, because you know so much about pussy,” Geto retorted, a challenge in his voice.

Choso snickered, his eyes lingering on you with a knowing amusement that felt unsettling.

You felt hopelessly confused. He'd defended you moments ago, but now it felt like they were sharing an inside joke, one with you as the punchline.

“C’mon. Gojo gets more than all three of us combined,” Sukuna cooed, a deliberate provocation.

Gojo burst into laughter, a full-bodied, unrestrained sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Yo. Chill the fuck out.”

He didn’t deny it. Didn’t even bother to glance your way.

You heard Sukuna and Geto snickering in your direction, and Gojo remained silent, complicit.