Archive of Our Own

The world was gentle tonight, rocking softly.  

Thank God for tequila. 

That was the only thing in your mind as you stumbled and fell against the door, the knob digging against your thigh. 

You huffed as a weight pressed on top of you, a 6’3, white-haired, drunk-out-of-his-mind weight. 

“Man,” Gojo Satoru breathed against the top of your head. “Since when did falling down feel this good?”

You laughed, your thoughts feeling like balls of fluff rolling around in your head. “I told you to ease up on the shots, you lightweight.”

He pouted, bringing his chin down on your head, digging it down until you pushed him away. He stumbled back to lean on an opposite wall. “Light enough for ya?”

You giggled, pulling him back to you, unaware that you were pitching to the right, sliding down the wall. Suddenly, you were on the floor, the carpet scratchy against the back of your neck. 

Falling down really does feel good. 

Satoru pitched forward too, too tall to fall all the way. His forearms hit the door, breaking his fall as he bent over you, head bowed to peer down at you. 

“How'd you get down there?”

You could only laugh. Of course, humor travels fast when inebriated, so Satoru started chuckling too, until he lost his grip on the door and fell down on top of you, his elbow barely missing your face.

“Why are we—'' You pushed his head away as he dug his chin into your cheek again. “Why are we laughing?”

“I don’t know,” he gasped out. “Why are we laughing?”

“Because you’re an idiot, Gojo.”

He gasped. “How dare you!”

A beat of silence. 

“Well, yeah, but still!” He dropped his forehead down on the floor, still laying on top of you, and you heard his pout without seeing it. 

You leaned your head against his, feeling heavy and light at the same time. The world was moving in disjointed little snapshots, like you were teleporting instead of moving. 

Man, being drunk feels good. 

Satoru groaned against you, and the little vibrations felt good against your skin. He pressed his cheek into yours, flushed and slightly clammy from intoxication. 

“I’m wasted, baby.”

“I told you—”

“Well, who else was supposed to take the body shots off you?”

“Nobody told you to take it, asshole, it was supposed to be Utahime’s—”

“ Her? You think I’d let that raging lesbian lick salt off you? Do I look like a damn cuck—”

“Well— I mean...”

He pulled his head back to look at you, looking like you had given him a knife and told him to skin a puppy. He was offended enough to be struck silent before—

“Do I fuckin’ look like—”

“What? Have you seen Utahime? She’s so fucking hot, dude! Don’t tell me you’ve never considered at least a threesome?”

He was silent for a moment. 

“Yeah, but with me in the middle. She’s not getting anywhere near you—”

You gasped, voice climbing higher. “ You in the middle, Gojo what do you mean —”

“Hey, you get pegged, then I get pegged too.” He pouted. 

“Wow, okay, lemme just get my phone, and you can say that again—”

“Nuh-uh,” he wagged a long finger in front of you. “Utahime would punch me in the balls, or worse, she’d agree. Now stop discussing a damn threesome with me while we’re both drunk. I don’t wanna wake up and hear that you ran away with her or somethin’, my poor, fragile masculinity could never. ”

“You said it, not me,” you laughed. 

He groaned again. “I’m wasted .”

“Me too,” you sighed in contentment, rubbing your face into his soft hair. His hair was always so soft, like it was perpetually salon-treated. You suppose that being immune to all foreign matter makes haircare a breeze. His cheeks were a cherubic shade of pink, and his half-lidded eyes were soft. He looked the most relaxed he’s been in, well, a long time. 

“You’re such a pretty drunk,” you murmured into his ear. 

He chuckled, a low, slurred sound that sent heat deep down in your gut. “If you think I’m pretty, then I have news for you, baby. Have you seen yourself recently?”

You laughed, giddy at the compliment. Satoru was one hell of a smooth talker, and damn if he didn’t get you all the time. “You think you’re so slick.”

“But I aaam .” He whined into your ear, then he was lurching up, in that try-to-act-sober way all not-sober people do, fumbling for the door. 

“Dammit,” he muttered. “Can’t feel my fingers.”

You tried to sit up too, but he was already snaking his arms around your waist, gathering you up close to him, slurring. 

“Hold on, ‘kay? Can’t think straight, might end up on the floor. Might end up in China.”

You gasped, holding on for dear life when you realized what he planned to do. The world turned black, and you felt a whoosh of air as it moved to make space for you. 

Then you were falling, and Satoru barely had enough time to twist so his back hit the floor, you on top of him. You realized you were both hanging halfway off the bed. 

He chuckled. “Oops, missed.”

Then he was kissing you. His lips tasted like lime. His arms twisted around your waist, and you leaned into him, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. 

Thank God for tequila. You had gotten a bit carried away with the shots, trying and failing to catch up with Utahime and a few friends from Kyoto, at this random party filled with strangers, when Satoru appeared at your side, ever the party-crasher. 

After barely an hour of his tongue running down your skin, his lips brushing your belly button, his mouth taking limes off yours, he had had enough, whisking you both away as quickly as he appeared. The last thing you heard before appearing in his hallway was Utahime sighing gratefully, saved from popping a vein courtesy of Gojo Satoru. 

It had also taken him exactly three shots to get hammered, all of them taken off you, but who was counting? Satoru never drank, preferring virgin cocktails over anything else, but here you were, on top of a loose-limbed, clumsy, drunk-off-his-ass Gojo Satoru. 

Nothing short of a miracle, really. 

So you kissed him, long and slow. The world was spinning and his tongue was sloppy, licking at the seam of your lips. His thumb pushed your chin down, opening your mouth to him, and his tongue ran across the edge of your teeth. You sucked at it, trapping it between your lips and he groaned, pulling you away. 

“‘M too drunk for this, baby.” 

Quite the contrary, seeing as he was already sliding his hands up your shirt, and something was pressing into the inside of your thigh. 

You giggled. “Me too.” You moved your mouth down, fixing your teeth on his Adam’s apple and giving it a nibble. 

He hummed, bringing your mouth back up to his, murmuring against your tongue. “You gon’ take advantage of me in my helpless state, you lecherous villain?”

You laughed and slapped at his chest, but he continued to tease. “You devil, you fiend. Unhand me at once.”

“You’re the one who’s feeling me up, you idiot.”

 “Am I?” He smirked, bringing a hand up to your breasts, grabbing a handful and squeezing until you gasped into his mouth, hips involuntarily pressing into him. His nails dug into soft flesh before letting go, his forefinger ghosting your nipple. 

“Are you?” You kissed that infuriating little smirk, the curve deepening as you pressed your lips on it. Your heartbeat was picking up, alcohol pumping even faster through your bloodstream. But the alcohol had an opposite effect on Satoru, quelling the fierce, unhinged part of him that was brought out by either violence or sex. 

Violence and sex, you sighed in your head, one and the same when it comes to you, Gojo. 

One and the same for me too. 

But the change was nice. The world was gentle tonight, rocking softly, and it looks like you two would be the same. Your teeth found his earlobe and bit down, pulling slightly. He smelled like money and liquor and sweets. His hair tickled your nose as you inhaled into his cheek, and he hummed again as you nuzzled into soft skin.

“‘M too drunk for this,” he repeated, inhaling in turn as he pressed his nose into yours. His hand found its way into your throat and he squeezed, smiling lazily as you whined in protest when he began to pull you away. 

“And so are you,” he reprimanded softly, but his eyes were teasing as he looked at a very, very drunk you. 

Consent is key, but fuck if you don’t look like the gates of heaven wide open for me, sweetheart. 

You pouted. “We’re both drunk, dummy. It cancels out, like PEMDAS.”

That earned a belly laugh from him, which turned into a groan as your hand wandered down, down, all the way down to where his body said yes when his mouth said no.

He smiled lazily up at you, before dropping his drunk little head on the floor. Without warning, he jerked you down as well, and your hand flew to his wrist. 

“You want me, then?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Careful, dumbass, your head’s gonna be too big to fit in this room—”

He thumbed at your pouting mouth, shutting you up. 

“Work for me.”

Your thighs clenched at his words. He planted another wet kiss on your mouth before pushing up and backward, sliding both of you completely off the bed he had missed so terribly. You huffed as you hit the floor. Too drunk and too eager to act hard-to-get, you grabbed at his belt. He propped himself up on his elbows, smiling lazily down at you. 

“So pretty,” you muttered. You blew your cheeks out in frustration. Your fingers simply refused to go where you wanted them. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, watching you. “So fucking pretty.”

So fucking pretty , Satoru thought, his head already growing two sizes. So pretty, looking like she can’t wait to suck my dick. 

He sighed, rolling his heavy head. Thank fucking God for tequila. 

You finally found purchase on his belt buckle, your head bobbing a little to the side as you pulled it off. Next was the buttons and the damn zipper, too small for your numb fingertips. The spoiled bastard below you only laughed at your struggle, not moving an inch to help you. 

That changed, of course, when your hand finally snuck under his boxers, gripping his warm cock. 

He groaned, too drunk and too eager to act hard-to-get, and bucked into your hand. You felt a little awestruck again. Nothing short of a miracle. Satoru never drank. Because he was a secret control freak that hated losing control. Because, if you were being honest, he had enough bitterness in him to last him two lifetimes. 

Yet here he was, thrusting his hips into the loose ring of your hand, needy as a dog in heat.

You pursed your lips, gathering whatever spit you could, before taking him in your mouth in one go. 

Satoru moaned for real now, thrusting gratefully into the warm sleeve of your mouth. It was slightly too dry, too clumsy, your teeth grazing him, but he couldn’t care less. 

“So pretty,” he cooed, fisting his hands on his sides. “So pretty, sucking my cock. So fucking pretty, pretty little baby.”

You hummed around him, and too drunk and too eager to care, you started grinding your hips into his leg, hungry for some friction. He noticed and chuckled evilly, but you couldn’t care less. 

“So needy, you’re so fucking needy. Betcha you’d cum on the spot if I so much as breathed on your pussy, huh?”

He could cum on the spot right now, but you didn’t need to know that. 

You could only manage a half-hearted glare as you bobbed your head up and down and up and down on him, feeling the texture of engorged veins on your lips, your hips still grinding little circles into him. Diligently, you worked him, moving down, down down down, taking him all in just to stick your tongue out and press it right down between his balls, in that spot that made him cry out—

“ Fuck! You gon’ make me cum, baby? You’d ruin me with that dirty little mouth, yeah? Bet you’d like that huh, you fucking slut, bet you’d like it if I cum on your pretty face?”

He groaned and gripped the base of his cock. ‘C’mere, c’mere,” he muttered, pulling your hair to ease the pressure on his cock. You could only pull your lips over your teeth and take it as he fucked your mouth, too drunk and too eager to be gentle. 

“Nngh, fuck yeah fuck yeah —” He was gripping the sides of your face, thrusting up into you. The little gurgles of your moans trying to slip past his cock was like music to his ears, little staccato grunts pushed out of you as he tattooed his dick on the back of your throat. 

“Take it, baby, come on, relax your fucking throat, open up — there we go.” He sighed as he slipped into your throat, eyes rolling back into his head at the feeling of your nose pressing into silvery-white hair, already soaked with precum and spit and tears. 

He stayed like that for a moment, relishing the feeling of you swallowing desperately around him. For a short while he considered mutiny, suffocating you with his cock until you passed out, but he sighed and relented, pulling out slightly. 

You gasped and coughed, him still inside your mouth. You snuck in a garbled you fucking asshole before going back to work. 

He laughed again, and you just looked so fucking cute that he pulled you up and off his cock, kissing you. Satoru was the filthiest little shit you knew, so of course he lapped at his own precum, gathering it in his own mouth, before spitting it back into yours. 

Too drunk and too eager to be disgusted, you swallowed. 

He smiled in approval, cooing more praises. “There she is, there’s my good little slut, letting me spit in her mouth, fuck her throat. Want me to return the favor, sweetie? Ya want to fuck my mouth?”

You perked up at that, and he kissed you again. So goddamn fucking cute, I swear to god. 

He brought a hand down and smacked your thigh, making you yip and jerk against him. 

“Sit on my face, sweetie. Lemme see that pretty little pussy.”

Now you felt a little embarrassed, when you sat up lightning-fast and squirmed to straddle his pretty face. 

Maybe I am a slut. 

Oh, well. 

He chuckled again, looking a little too smug. He ran his hands up and down on your thighs before slipping his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. 

Or rather, the lack thereof. 

He froze, and moved his eyes up to you. 

“You little—”

You pouted on top of him, the alcohol amping up the giddiness at being discovered. 

“You were gonna rip it again, you asshole, so I thought I shouldn’t bother.”

He looked up at you, eyes wide. “I was at the party for one hour. One.”

“Yeah, and?”

“You were there for four. ”

You looked at him, waiting. 

“You were walking around with that little ass out the entire night. You—”

He shook his head. 

“You’re a huge fucking slut.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You say that like it's a bad thing.”

His eyes were still wide, like he couldn’t wrap his head around you skipping underwear for just one short night.

“You little— mph!”

You dropped your pussy right on top of his mouth, grinding down. 

“You talk too much,” you whined. 

He groaned in response, his head filled with the scent of your dripping cunt. Soft and wet against his mouth, giving to every press of his lips, his tongue. His thoughts were slipping away from him, as he moved a hand to stroke himself. 

Fuck me if there’s anything better than a woman sitting on your face. 

Your hips moved faster, short, shaky little movements. His nose pressed deliciously into your clit, and his tongue was deep inside you, probing your walls. 

“I’m gonna suffocate you,” you gasped, but you didn’t seem all that concerned for his well-being as you pressed down even harder. Satoru wasn’t concerned in the slightest, moaning in satisfaction, happily letting you crush his skull. 

It doesn’t get any better than this.

Then your legs started shaking, and you could only gasp out his name as warning before your thighs clamped around his head, your cunt dripping and squeezing his tongue as you fell apart on top of him. You fell backwards, hands splayed on his abdomen, and fucked yourself on his stiff, outstretched tongue, riding out your orgasm. You bounced in little increments, his taste buds sending delicious little tickles into your cunt. The slide of your pulsating walls against his tongue shot lightning straight down to his cock.  

Wrong. It just did. 

He finally realized he was moaning too, too absorbed in you to hear himself. You came down, sighing happily. 

He leaned in a little as you pulled away, taking a seat on his chest. Your cum was leaking through his shirt. 

He smirked up at you, feeling even drunker than before. Must be the oxygen deprivation. “Had fun?”

You giggled. “A bit. Sorry I almost broke your head.”

He grinned up at you, rubbing the side of his head in jest. “I feel a fracture, but no complaints here.”

“Drama queen.” You rolled your eyes at him, before leaning back and searching blindly for his cock. You found it, curling your fingers and pulling. You groaned at the hardness, he was soaked. 

Too soaked. 

You let go of him despite his huff of frustration, your mouth falling open. Your fingers came away sticky.

You brought your hand up to your face. Sure enough, covered in white. 

You both gaped at your hand, too drunk to think, before speaking at the same time. 

“Oh my God, did you—”

“Holy shit, when did I—”

You looked at him, and his eyes widened before he cracked up, head thrown back and all. He grabbed your waist and pulled you down to him, before holding your hand and pushing your fingers into your mouth. 

You moaned at the taste of his cum, eyes still wide with shock. 

“Man,” he sighed, “That hasn’t happened to me since high school.”

He looked at you, his ocean eyes drunk and adoring and glazed over from cumming untouched.

“The things you do to me, I swear. I didn’t even feel it.”

“Woah,” you whispered. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “Woah.”

He kissed you again, tonguing his own cum, before pushing you up, slapping your ass. 

“Now make it happen again, pretty girl. Wanna feel it this time.”

You scrambled to seat yourself on his dick, only just noticing the way you were both still fully clothed. You whined and pawed at his shirt, grinding yourself along his length. 

You were both already ruined, and you haven’t even fucked yet. 

He chuckled and obliged you, peeling his shirt off. “Hold on,” he muttered, gripping your hips to still you as he kicked his pants off all the way. 

He peeled your clothes off too, smiling all the time as he laid you bare. “There she is, there’s my pretty girl. Now quit playin’ around and get my dick inside you, yeah?”

You only smiled back at him and continued your grinding, holding his dick up to press into your clit. You moaned, the ridge of his cockhead rubbing against you just right. You crooked your legs and pressed your feet on his legs, keeping him still as he tried to sheathe himself inside you. 

A white eyebrow cocked up, a flicker of annoyance finding its way on his handsome face. “Ah, sweetheart, forgetting our place now, are we?”

Oh, shit. Satoru hummed in satisfaction at the flicker of fear in your eyes, the way you hastily lifted up and dropped down so fast you saw stars.

“Mmm fuck —” He groaned and strained up against you, seeking the warmth of your cunt. “Fuckin finally, now work it, you little tease. I’ve waited long enough.”

You blew your breath out, trying to get over the shock of him entering you so suddenly. Satoru was a pretty man, long and tall and trim, but goddamn if his third leg wasn’t absolutely lethal. You opened your thighs a little more on top of him, groaning as he slid impossibly deeper. 

“Oi, oi. I said move,” he scoffed at you, more than a little annoyed at your stalling. “What, can’t take it?”

“Yes I can,” you insisted. “I can, just fucking wait —”

“Ordering me around now? Never thought you had it in you.”

Oh shit shit shit. You decided on a bit of flattery to buy some time. 

“Not my fault you have a damn horse cock. Where do you hide this in those jeans?” You couldn't keep the nervous laughter out of your voice. 

It didn’t work. His eyes narrowed even as you squirmed and fluttered on top of him. His voice was suddenly cold when he spoke again. 

“Move. I won’t ask again.”

“Asshole,” you whined, but tried your best to obey. You lifted up experimentally, then dropped down. Inch by inch, you opened up, and before long you were bouncing on his hips. 

You looked up at him, eyes pleading. You were graced with a proud smile. 

“Wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

You moaned, throwing your head back, pushing your hands down on his abs. You chased your own high and he let you. The alcohol was back in action, spurred on by all the physical exertion and you smirked down at him, enjoying the position of power. Satoru only squeezed your ass in warning, wanting nothing more than to press your little face into the floor and put you down below him, back where you belonged. 

Let her have her fun, he chastised himself. He smirked at you, seeing how you were enjoying yourself. Smile while you can, sweetness. You won’t be smiling once I’m done with you. 

So he let himself be ridden into the ground, ignoring the growing itch in his hands. That itch, sitting under his skin all day long, looking to rip and claw and hurt . Muted as it was now, by alcohol and your presence, it was still there. Sure, you calmed him down like nothing else, but at the same time you were so soft and pliant and vulnerable that it would be so easy to fasten his hands around your neck and just—

Let the girl have her fun, you fucking psycho. You can break her in half later.  

He sighed and laid back, enjoying the ride, enjoying the spectacular view of you—

“Fucking yourself on my dick, yeah? You like it, pretty girl, you feel good?” 

“Feel good,” you murmured back at him. “Feels s’ good, Goj— Satoru. Feels good.”

“What was that?” He teased you now, fighting the urge to laugh at your ditziness. “What’s my name, sweetie? Say my name, yeah?”

“Satoru,” you whined. “Satoru, fuck, I—”

“Yes, baby, I’m here. Right here. What is it, what do you want?”

You swallowed, feeling drool slip from the corner of your mouth. His cock was unbelievable, hard but soft at the same time. “Satoru, please I need—” You choked as you dropped too far, ramming him in too deep. “I need—”

“You need? Need what? Use your words, sweetie. Slow down for a bit and use your words.”

You obliged, taking to a slow grinding. “I need your— your fingers. Please can you—”

“Can I what?” He grabbed your arms, jerking you down to him. Your hands slapped against his chest and you moaned as he gripped your ass, pulling you up and down on him. You could almost taste his impatience. 

“Your fingers, need your fingers on my—” You faltered, unable to say the words. 

Satoru must have been feeling merciful, because he pushed you back up, wasting no time in pressing a finger against your clit. 

You fell back, grateful for his help. You started working in earnest towards your orgasm, knowing Satoru, knowing his mercy wasn’t going to last much longer.

Then something buzzed under your fingers. 

Satoru, who could hear a pin drop in the neighboring room, reacted immediately. His eyes snapped to the glowing screen right under your hand. 

It was your phone. 

And a certain Utahime Iori was calling.

You could almost see the light bulb going off in his head. 

“Well?” He was laughing now, eyes bright and mischievous. “Don’t you have to take that?”

“W— What?” You were too busy for anything other than chasing your orgasm, but you gasped in horror as Satoru picked up your phone. 

“She must think I have you chopped up in my basement by now.”

“Satoru, no—”

He pressed accept. 

“Hello?” You heard Utahime slur through the phone. “Hey, you okay? I swear if that bastard Gojo—”

That bastard Gojo gripped your chin and pulled you close to him. “The moment you stop moving I’m putting her on speaker and letting her hear, well, that .” He flicked his eyes down. 

Then you heard it, on par with Utahime’s tinny hello? was the obscene sounds coming from your cunt. It was unmistakable, the sounds of messy sex. 

You grabbed the phone, pressing it to your ear. “Hey, Utahime, I’m fine, I’m great, I’m just—”

Satoru whispered in your other ear. “Just creaming on that bastard Gojo’s cock, nothing much.”

“Just getting Satoru to bed, you know, the lightweight.” You tittered nervously, trying to keep the phone steady even as Satoru bounced you on his cock. 

“Fucker can’t even take care of himself,” Utahime tsked. 

The fucker in question slapped your ass without warning, and you yelped. 

“Woah, you okay?” Utahime asked. Sweet of her, really, but right now you wanted nothing more than to throw your phone against the wall, because Gojo had circled a finger on your dripping cunt. 

And was now pushing it into your ass. 

“I’m f— fine. I’m fine, Utahime, just, uh, tripped a b— bit.”

“Okay, just calling to check up on you. We’re finishing up anyway, I’m the last one standing.”

“Great, uh—” Satoru’s finger bottomed out deep in your ass, at the same time he pressed you down on his dick. “Okaygreatbyebehomesafe!”

You fumbled to drop the call, the phone already sliding out of your hands as you buried your face into Satoru’s neck. 

“You’re so goddamn fucking precious,” Satoru whispered into your ear. “I swear I could just eat you up.”

“Fuck you,” you moaned into his ear, “Hands off my ass, Satoru.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.” He slid his finger in and out, but ultimately removed it. “One of these days, I’ll have your ass gaping on my cock, baby, and you're gonna thank me for it.”

“You’re a fucking freak, Gojo,” you said, but you were already pushing up off his chest to resume your riding.

“Am I?” He brought his finger into his mouth, eyes bright, and at that point you almost had it in you to wonder what you were really dealing with here. 

Almost, because at that moment he pressed a thumb into your clit, flicking it softly. 

“The alcohol bought you some time, sweetheart, but I’m done waiting. Cum for me.”

And just like that, you did, spasming on top of him. Your cunt fluttered and pulled, eliciting a pleased mmm that feels good from him. Your hips slowly stuttered to a stop, your cunt still pulsating softly with pleasure. 

You drooped down on him, loose-limbed. But you knew it was just starting. You lifted your head up sheepishly to look Satoru in the eye. He was smiling at you, like you were a naughty child he had caught with a hand in the cookie jar. 

“Had fun?”

Oh, shit. “Yes, thank— thank you.”

“Good.” He paused for a moment. “Get on the bed.”

You stumbled all the way up to it, legs still shaking. 

“On your knees.”

You obeyed.

“On your open knees.”

You obeyed.

“Face down, ass up”

You obeyed. 

“Now, keep still.”

You obeyed, hoping he would notice you being good for him, hoping he’d show you some more mercy tonight if you were good enough, good enough for him. 

“You playing nice now, sweetheart?”

Say it say it say it sayitsayitsayit—

“Good girl.”

You moaned at the praise, your toes curling, feeling your cunt push out a bead of slick.

“Not so hard now, is it?” You felt his weight press down on the mattress. “It’s not so hard, being nice, being good for me, right?”

“Yes.”

“Yes—?”

Fuck it. “Yes, daddy.”

He sucked in a breath before speaking. “ Oho, so I’m daddy now, am I? What happened to “that bastard Gojo?” You felt his knee spread your legs even further, felt his hands press between your shoulder blades to push you down on the mattress. 

“What happened to “lightweight,'' hm?” He bent down over you, his cock settling between your asscheeks. You were aching to reach him, put him back inside you, but you were stilled by the cracks in his voice, that little lilt in his tone that made you wanna run far, far away, just a bit. Just a little bit. 

“You had your fun, baby?”

You nodded, stiff with anticipation. 

“Good, because it’s daddy’s turn.”

He thrusted into you. I’m done waiting. He was fucking you the way he liked it now, his hips too strong, his hands too tight on your ass, his teeth too sharp on your shoulder, his dick too big for your cunt. 

I’m done waiting.

It was the way you liked it, but he didn’t need to know that. God knows if you’d survive if he knew that . 

Maybe you’d tell him, someday, that you were just as depraved as him, but for now you could only focus on taking what he gave you. 

And god, did he ever give. You were moaning like a star in a cheap porno, squealing and sobbing under him as your body moved on its own, trying to pull away from the abuse. 

“Don’t fucking run from me, you little bitch.” His voice was brittle as he pulled your hips back to him. “Don’t fucking run, you won’t get far, won’t get away from me . You’re mine, you useless fucking slut, get it into your head. You’re mine, all mine, this filthy little cunt is mine.”

“Too much,” you whined, as if it would change a thing. “Too much, please—”

“Too much?” He laughed at you, those eyes of his wide, sharp and cutting like the jagged edges of broken glass. Those eyes were the eyes you only ever see on TV. On a villain in a penny dreadful, on psychopaths that crafted gloves from human skin, on those serial killers that laughed as they fried on the electric chair.

You loved those eyes more than anything in the world. 

“So fucking cute,” he rambled on, fucking you like you had wronged him. “So fucking small, so soft, so soft I could just fucking break you right now, baby, yeah? Could break your neck, fucking rip your heart out and you’d thank me for it, won’t you?”

“God, I love you I love you I wanna fucking hurt you, pretty girl. Wanna hurt you wanna hurt you.”

He pulled on your hair, bending you to look up at him, and he fixed teeth on your neck and bit. 

You yelped as incisors stabbed into you. You fought back, nails scrabbling on the side of his face. Understanding broke through his insanity. 

But no, not in that way. He didn’t let go. He only let down Infinity. He was unable to not hurt you, so he’d let you hurt him in turn. 

Nothing but a couple of sickos, really, the two of you. He loved it. Loved you, more than anything in this world. 

Especially when he felt drops of blood on his skin as you hurt him. An apology, a privilege. He moaned as you scratched wounds onto his shoulder, the pain going straight to his dick, and he was unable to hold back a wild grin as you grew wetter at the smell of blood. 

We’re nothing but monsters, my love. Both sick in the head. Insane in the brain. 

God, I love you. 

His affection swelled in him, and he wrote it in the only language he spoke: blood. 

He dragged nails down your waist, drawing pretty red lines into your skin. He squeezed and clawed and fucked you through all of it, seeking his own high. 

Blood was the only language Gojo Satoru could speak, and lucky for him, you had learned his language well. 

Your conversation dragged on and on and on, like countless other nights before. Gojo Satoru likes pain with his pleasure. Gojo Satoru needs to go down to hell to get to to heaven.

Pain, pain, pain. Fucking you through all of it, seeking his own high.  With every passing moment, his sanity slipped away from him. 

But he wasn’t too far gone. 

“Mercy, little baby?” He murmured the safe word into your ear, his voice gentle even as he pulled out strands of your hair, brought a hand down hard on your ass.

“Mercy?”

“No,” you whined against him, without hesitation. You didn’t need no mercy, you needed more.

And you only had to ask.

“More, Satoru.” You whined into him, needing more, needing so much more.

He bit out another warning. “Oi, don’t— don’t be like that. Last chance, my love. Think carefully now, okay? Last chance. Mercy?”

“No.” You swallowed, feeling like you were dropping a guillotine on your own head. “No mercy.”

“Alright, love.”

He pressed a kiss into your cheek, whispering out what remained of his kindness. 

“I’m sorry.”

The rest of the night was a blur. Nails clawed and teeth bit down and hands smacked against soft flesh. You screamed and cried and came and came and came. On your knees, on your back, on top of him as he held you and thrust up into you like you weighed nothing. You managed to wound him too, nails peeling back the skin on his arms, his side, his back. 

Meanwhile, Satoru had you where he wanted you, bleeding and crying and cumming below him. Always below him, even if just for a night. Pride and love and adoration swelled in his chest, even as he drew your blood and scratched your flesh. Pride when you fought back, biting on his lip, filling his mouth with blood. Love, when you stared right into his eyes, riding his cock to heaven and back. 

Adoration, when you stared right in his eyes and worshipped him. You worshipped him, and he adored you. 

God, I love you. 

That declaration could have been sweet, but sadly it never really came out right. 

”You stupid fucking slut, stupid whore, this is all you’re good for, yeah? Only ever good for taking me, taking my cum.”

I love you, I love you.

“You little bitch, you’re fucking weak, can’t even fight me back— fuck, yeah, just like that just like that .”

“You’re weak you’re fucking weak you’re nothing to me. Nothing to me but a little hole to take me in and relieve me. Scratch a little itch and toss aside. Nothing but a stupid, useless little hole for me to fuck.”

I love you.

“C’mon, c’mon cum for me I know you have one more in you c’mon milk me milk my fucking co — Fuck yeahyeahyeah take it, take my fucking cum it’s all you’ll ever be good for you fucking — aggh —!” 

The end came when he did, collapsing on top of you, sweaty and shaky and feeling like he was flying. 

And you lay below him. You had survived another night. Yay. 

He pulled out of you, chuckling weakly as you whined and tried to pull him back in despite everything. He got on his knees, a little dizzy, and inspected you. He turned you over, stroking and prodding at your skin. Bruises and cuts and bite marks and bruises. His bruises. His cuts. His bite marks. 

Little i love you s he had left all over you, a little upside down, written in sex and rage and blood. 

The only language he could speak. 

“Sorry, sweetheart, went a little overboard.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You murmured to him. Sure, you looked like the victim of a mugging gone wrong right now, but fucking hell you felt good. 

“Good?” He inquired softly, hands already warming up on your chest.

“Good,” you reassured him. “All good.”

It was good. Reverse Cursed Technique felt good, like floating on a pool of cool, soothing water.

Satoru knew he should feel more remorse than he did now. Ripping you apart then healing you just to rip you apart some more. 

But he was fucking sick in the head, so he only smiled. You’re my little drug dose and you would never run out. I’ll break you into pieces and put you back together. Eat you up and spit you back out.

Because I can. 

Because I love you. 

He should feel more remorse, should be beating himself up, should throw himself in a padded cell and say goodbye to the world forever, but it was good. It was all good, because you pushed off his hands before he could finish healing you, leaving ghostly bruises on your skin. 

You were sick as all hell too, if you wanted fucking souvenirs. 

It was all good, because you smiled at him and traced a bruise on his shoulder that wasn’t healing. Souvenirs. 

“Satoru?”

“Hm?"

“Love you too.”

The world was gentle tonight, rocking softly, and it looks like you two would be the same as you drifted off to sleep, you dreaming of limes and him dreaming of you.