Chapter Text
You only had to push through about ten or so bodies before the ones taking center stage made your heart stall in your chest. The golden goose of the jujutsu world--the one who stood head and shoulders above curses and sorcerers alike was anything but. Under the soft glow of the head quarter’s lily white. Blood caked both his hand and the sheet he was holding. The sapphires in his eyes that used to be so bright and vibrant were muddied by something darker. Something so separate from his life that it turned everything upside down and rocked him from the inside out. Pain. Failure. Two things that were amplified by the cheers and applause of the people surrounding you and circling him. A centerfold of misery. Everything in you screamed to charge Gojo and reassure him that everything would be fine. You’d abandon the mission to keep tabs on the Star Plasma cult--go back to JJK Tech, hat in hand and accept whatever axe gets brought down on your head. Then further past the crowd, you saw Geto--equally pained and being further marred by the sight of his best friend soaked in angst and fighting to keep calm in the face of what he considered weaker, lesser beings smiling down at him. And the words he loosed in response to that rattled your skeleton.
“Should we just kill them?”
Contemplating with Geto to kill them. To undo the chains placed on him just for being born. Free of responsibility with no reason to be found or acknowledged. Everything between leaving the cult’s headquarters, burning their garb, and trekking back to the school was a blur. Sounds and images you danced around on auto pilot while your mind replayed what you’d seen. Retracing your steps and even trying to rewrite events so that the three of you could hold some semblance of peace again. But in your life--in your line of work where non sorcerers administered their own demise, peace was never a guarantee. Just like tomorrow as never promised.
You’d just slipped your key in the lock when a shadow in your peripherals made you turn your head. At the other end of the dorm’s hallway was a sight that rattled your skeleton until you suppressed a shudder.
Gojo. Face blank, save for those all seeing eyes zeroing in on you. The same ones that used to seek you out for midnight ice cream sodas when Shoko and Geto would rather hit the books. The latter of which had driven a knife in Gojo’s still fresh wound with his genocide and defection to being a curse user. You didn’t even get to blink before he was right in your space, pinning you to your own door and stealing the air from your lungs with a deep, almost crushing kiss. With little room to breath, you were forced to filter the air through your lungs while his lips devoured you. Desperate. Starving. Gasping at straws to hold on to the last shred of normalcy that Rika’s death and Geto’s betrayal hadn’t eaten alive.
And you were powerless to stop him. One of his hands encircled your waist while the other opened your door to let your bodies tumble in and make a beeline for your bed. The second your back hit the mattress, he planted his lips right back on your mouth. This time, letting his tongue graze your lower lip, plunge right past them and mingle the slimy appendage around yours. All you could do was tremble like a fish on a hook. Simmering with uncertainty and a twinge of desire kerning in your core while you kept filtering air through your nose.
Eventually his lips left yours to lick and nibble a path down your neck, lavishing every inch of skin he could with spit slick desire until all the way down your collarbone just to growl at the clothes keeping him from his personal buffet. He didn’t bother pinning your hands (they were right where they needed to be: frozen on either side of your head) and used his to tear off the fabric until it went taught against your skin and was reduced to tatters on your floor. Your bra went with it and your nipples barely had a chance to harden at the draft before both mounds were devoured by a feral Gojo. You could feel his lips curl in glee while he swirled his tongue around one budding areola while the other was kneaded in his palm. Deep. Hard massages against his bare knuckle grip with hands stained with Rika’s blood. A need to drench them in something separate from her and from Geto.
The kernel blossomed into a slow burn that made your wriggling even harder, back arching into his touch while his knee parted your legs to massage your still clothed cunt. All words failed you, reduced to low moans that you knew would just encourage him to press on. Which he did the second his lips retired from your sensitive tits to lick another path down your stomach and tear at the last fabrics of your decency with his teeth. Stripped bare.Naked to all 6 of his eyes. Reduced to the ebb and flow of cursed energy Gojo could see beneath your skin and bones he parted your legs like a body of water and dove in face first.
He kissed the slit of your cunny square on, licking a stripe from bottom to top where your throbbing clit hood was starting to part. The tip of his tongue swirled it twice. Thrice, four, five more times before the fleshy pearl came out to play and squirmed under his dexterous appendage. Your shaky legs couldn’t be closed if you tried--not with the vice grip he had on them. The second your slick started to run, Gojo dove in mouth first, nose nuzzling your clit so his tongue could work his way inside you and slurp his fill. The room now came alive in a perverse symphony of your shrill but broken moans and his squelches against your flesh.
After a dozen or so more licks and slurps, you showered his mouth and chin in a shower of your sluice. Your gooey walls clenched around him until your creamy taste was soaked into his taste buds. You quivered and convulsed like a livewire with zips of electric ecstasy rushing you from the top down until you arched off the bed--eyes rolled to the back of your head like billiard balls while your O shaped mouth sang more moans to the ceiling.
When you came careening back down to earth, your breathing was ragged and every limb felt as if they weighed a ton. But Gojo being the sparkplug of energy that he was, barely gave you a second to recover before he situated your legs on either side of his waist and aligned his pelvis with yours. The bulge he sported nudged your wet coated walls just to dive in with one quick shove. You jolted from the sheer force of his girth with a silent gasp while he moved at a breakneck pace--making your still sensitive walls contour around his shaft the deeper he rocked inside of you. His low, guttural groans damn near swallowed your anguished mewls while the rickety bedpost groaned under both of your bodies.
Your body surrendered to his savage carnality and clamped around him like a vice for the second time and writhed underneath his firm build. Milking him for a seed he was more than happy to spill into you the second he went still, save for his stuttering hips. All the while, he growled into your neck and wedded your sweaty chests together. With what little strength you had, you tried to wedge yourself out from underneath him the second you felt his cock deflate inside of you. Which meant there was no reason to live inside you anymore.
“Gojo”, you murmured in a low tone, “let me up.”
“...why?”
Your brows furrowed in genuine confusion hearing that. Did he want another round or something?
“Because you're in my room”, you replied, shoving at his shoulders. “And inside me.”
“Right where I need to be.”
“The hell does that me--”
You weren’t allowed to finish those words before another bruising kiss stole the air from your lungs and drank in your taste like a dying man to a fresh oasis.
When he finally pulled back to let you gather your ragged breathing, his eyes beamed from above you like headlights streaked in blue and wide with manic intent.
“You really don't see what the fuck you've done to me”, he panted, “every second we're apart you live under my skin and it's goddamn painful.”
The second you took your eyes away to glance at the clock behind his head, he grabbed your face to yank you back towards him.
“I’m tired of the distance. Tired of tiptoeing around people who use and depend on me for one petty gripe after another till I’m running on empty. But not you--no, never you and your little independent streak leaving me sucking in your fumes.”
A beat passes before his grip tightens to the point where dull aches fill your cheeks.
“I don’t care if I have to drain fucking oceans to make it happen, I’ll carve myself into your bones and until every step you take is soaked in me and me alone.”