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For Shoko, being “friends with benefits” with Gojo went beyond the realm of two uncommitted acquaintances having casual sex. She settled for this relationship because she knew she could never have the entirety of Satoru. It would be selfish of her. It’s this or nothing at all.
The minute Satoru got out of the prison realm, he had to attend a meeting with the higher-ups. He didn’t even get to take a step out of the meeting room before his students ambushed him next. Then there was that run down of the list of casualties Ijichi gave him in the morgue. She was there, but they barely got a word to each other alone before he was needed again. He also had to go home to his clan and check on things.
It took a week for Satoru to finally visit Shoko since he also had to finish some of his mission backlogs that Yuta was dealing with for him. It was at two a.m. that she heard his slow tentative knocks hit her door. She arches a brow at his manner of knocking, as if he doesn’t want to disturb her. He had come to her in a more ungodly hour before.
She opens the door and Satoru—wearing a fitting black shirt and a pair of pants, sans dark glasses, which is his usual attire now—for a brief moment looks relieved that she’s still up. He studies her under the strands curtaining his eyes, like how he would watch her if he had glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. This man has never been in a room where he isn’t the most attractive person.
Gojo stares at Shoko, more beautiful than anyone should be under the night sky. Shoko’s wearing an old shirt of his from high school. A digimon data squad shirt, no bra. As if that’s not enough to melt his heart, she even paired that with black boy-short panties that accentuated her hips he’s itching to put his hands on. Her hair is up and secured with a claw. She looks like his teenage fantasy. She is his teenage fantasy, reason why he even developed a big fat crush on Waka Inoue before.
Shoko notices his stupid smile and looks down at what she’s wearing, blushes, and crosses her arms. “Shouldn’t you be at home?”
He takes a step towards her and lets his body sag on hers. Shoko relaxes under the heavy warmth of him, and hugs him, raising her head to rest her chin on his shoulder. He droops and digs his face into the crook of her neck, snaking his arms around her. Shoko’s skin warms as his soft lips touch her neck.
“I am now.”
She can barely feel his energy. She can also smell his sweat mixed with light perfume. Gojo normally doesn’t break a sweat when doing his missions. It seems he had been busy.
“Did you use the last of your strength to teleport here?”
She feels the sluggish nod of his head against her.
“Had to finish all my missions.”
“Idiot, you just got out. You didn’t have to finish them all in one go.”
“I don’t want anyone or anything to disturb us while I’m here.” He pauses, “I..” miss you.
“I know,” Shoko quickly supplies. “although it has only been twenty days.”
“Felt longer than that.”
The quick trip they made to a storage room after Gojo got out was not nearly enough for the two of them. It was a sweet, brief thing they got to enjoy, a breather, before they were once again pulled from multiple directions at once.
She gently rubs his back, broader and harder than how it previously was, as a reply. She missed him too.
“You need to sleep.”
Gojo doesn’t say anything, only lifts his head tiredly to kiss her. Shoko doesn’t give him and herself much of a fight and opens his mouth for him. The kiss is very heavy and full of longing, and Shoko doesn’t retaliate when his tongue darts out to reach for hers. She really does miss him, and she’s pissed at herself for missing him, for being so restless when he was gone so she takes it out on his mouth. They melt into each other just how they always do. He holds her body tighter against him. Shoko gasps, he’s squeezing her too much. Just what she needed. To be embraced so desperately that air is knocked out of her.
Gojo breaks the kiss but stays close. “You’ve lost weight. You feel smaller.”
“Or you just got bigger.”
“I know how your body feels, and you’ve lost weight.”
“Can’t really argue with the six eyes, you see everything I guess. Anyway, stop changing the subject, I told you, you need to rest.”
He palms her ass, then kneads, and she moans. She’s not minding his grabby hands for once, and he smirks at the thought. Maybe disappearing once in a while is not a bad idea.
“I do. But I also need to do this.” A permission.
She sighs. “Rest. Now.” She points, schooling her expression to seem unfazed.
“This is rest.” His lips cover hers again, reaching for the back of her knee so he can lift her up, which she quickly follows through by wrapping her legs around his waist. A small mewl escaping her lips as she feels his rigid stomach against her. He retreats the both of them to Shoko’s bedroom.
Gojo puts Shoko’s down on the bed with a gentleness he only reserves for her. He dips down to follow her lips as they continue kissing, carefully placing his body on top of her. As one of the only healers in the jujutsu society, Shoko’s presence and importance is big, but in his arms she is anything but. His body drapes over her so easily, so he’s watchful not to put his weight on her. Tired and drained, his arms shake a little as he supports himself, but they almost give out when Shoko slips her hands under his shirt to caress his back. Her fingers and palm work their way up to his shoulder blades, massaging the corded muscle underneath.
A throaty groan comes out of him and he bucks himself onto her and she keens. He needs to be inside Shoko. It’s the closest he can get to her.
He feels her hands reach for the hem of his shirt. Seems like she wants him too.
“I’m too tired for foreplay.” Shoko says while pulling off his shirt.
“Me too.” Gojo rises and for the first time in a long while, she’s finally seeing him again. Satoru was more lanky before, more lean than muscle, but now hard muscle filled all of the right places in his body. It isn’t a drastic change from before, but he just became more…compact, cut. She didn’t expect more muscle would look this good on him.
“I just want to feel you.”
“Fuck. Me too.” He whispers roughly.
Kissing her neck, he takes a deep breath of her, which are tobacco, coffee, white rose-scented bath wash, and a little of him, thanks to his shirt that she’s wearing.
It was a shame he had to strip the digimon shirt off, but Shoko’s boobs > Agumon. His digimon card should be revoked.
He also needs to see her, to feel her skin, to brand in his mind that he’s back, he’s home, to Shoko.
His hands grasp the sides of her chest as he looks down at her breasts. Shoko blushes. First year of high school, her boobs were non-existent, which had been one of her insecurities before. She didn’t think they would grow anymore until their senior year of high school. He’s the first one who noticed, the perv. She didn’t know what to do with them at first, but Satoru does. Always touched, looked, and worshiped them when he was allowed. It was a big confidence booster.
His thumb runs over a nipple and Shoko sucks a breath. Even with her decent size, his hands are still big for her tits, but he never cared, he’ll touch every inch of her that he can get his hands on, kneading as much as he likes.
It takes a lot not to suck on them but he really wants to go inside her. He doesn’t know how much longer his exhausted body could stay awake.
He straightens and grasps the waistband of Shoko's shorts. She closes her legs so it’s easier for him to pull it off, along with her panties. Gojo doesn’t miss the wet spot on her underwear.
She spreads herself before him, all slick and wet. He gulps while he takes off his pants. Fingers rushing to unbutton his trousers.
Fully naked, he settles between Shoko’s open legs, giving her a kiss before he positions himself in front of her entrance. A ragged gasp escapes from his mouth as he enters her after a long time. He makes his way slowly inside her, and every inch of him is welcomed with a tight hot grip.
Shoko curls her toes, with her legs locked around Gojo’s hips as he slides home, all the way down to the brim. He hears her gasp when she feels him growing still, stretching her walls that are throbbing around his cock. Neither of the two caring that Gojo didn’t wear a condom, Shoko just wants to feel him entirely, to make herself feel…believe, he really is back. He slips an arm under Shoko, hugging her as he presses their bodies together. “I’m home.” He whispers.
Gojo drops a light kiss on Shoko’s cheek. “You’re so beautiful,” He pushes himself up for a bit to look back and down to where his whole length had settled inside her. He loves looking at her pussy. All pink, pretty, and supple. Such a contrast to her astute attitude. “So fucking beautiful.” He adds, and he doesn’t mean her face this time.
Shoko weaves her fingers into his hair as Gojo pulls back his hips so slowly, letting her feel every thick inch of him. He then drags himself back in using the same pace. Lazy and unhurried. They’re not doing this for a release, but to reacquaint themselves with each other.
Shoko’s insides throb around him as he kisses her jaw before straightening his head up to look at her. Gojo always has a pattern when he stares at her face. First, he focuses on her eyes, then they move to the side to her mole, then down to her nose, lips, and goes back up to her eyes, like he can’t focus on one thing.
Shoko at sixteen was pretty. Had big eyes that made Satoru catch his breath when she stared up at him under the sun. Now, at twenty-nine, gone is most of the softness of her face. She’s still beautiful, but the beauty is more cutthroat that it lances its way straight thru Satoru’s chest. But in rare still moments, her softness would emerge, like right now, with her biting her swollen lips, her eyebrows turned inward into a desperate expression, her cheeks tinted pink, strands of hair sticking to her forehead, and her glazed eyes softened around the edges as she gazed up at him.
“Shoko...” He tucks his head back into the side of her neck again because he can’t handle how she looks at him. His face is hot as Shoko slips her hand under his and interlocks them. He might as well cum from that alone.
Her heels dig into his back. “s’ feel so good.” And she means it. His heavy body—stifling hot and coated with sweat—covers hers, is her own infinity, where their troubles can’t reach them, and there’s only him and her.
It’s too vivid, the every slide and shove of his cock through her because of their sluggish pace, but she won’t have it any other way. She is being forced to memorize every vein and his thick shape again. Her body feels so heavy and Satoru probably feels the same, but they won’t be able to sleep without doing this first. She always feels Satoru’s usual harsh fucking up its way to her throat, but this current gentle pace makes its way to her heart, swelling her chest with feelings she thought she locked away long ago.
Her nails run along the back of his head, feeling the sharp hairs of his recent undercut, where his sweet spot is that only she knows. He moans roughly, tightening the hold on his hand on hers. Shoko is not one for hand holding. As well as too much cuddling, but she’s so vulnerable and weak that she’s very giving so he’ll have to take anything he can get. He pushes himself up to reach for a pillow beside her head. “Lift your hips.”
Shoko, still dizzy and out of it, weakly follows. Gojo helps her by lifting her and quickly slips the pillow under her lower back. He hovers her again, bottoms out, and stuffs himself back in, eliciting a throaty groan when he does. Shoko sees him swallow, adam’s apple bobbing as he regains himself. She clamps around his cock, hot and tight, her hands grazing the corded muscles on his back as he starts moving again.
She moans as the new position enables Satoru to reach deeper, filling every space of her until all she sees, smells, tastes and feels is him. Her body feels so weightless and loose that it’s so easy for Satoru to plow into her. Satoru lifts himself to sneak a glance again at where he’s entering her, seeing a ring of white at the base of his cock.
One of her hands goes back to his nape, nails scraping the skin there, as well as the back of his head.
Shoko feels her slick reaching her inner thighs. Gojo feels it too, which only spurs him further. The bed rocks along with him. Despite the dizzying heat, Gojo slips his arm under her to embrace her, his hand anchored on her shoulder while she puts both of her own arms around his neck. Her legs around his torso go tighter. The heat is so stifling, it’s like they’re melting into each other. Their skin feels slippery pressed close against each other, their hot breaths blow only increasing the temperature of their bodies. Her breasts push against his chest and the lingering feeling of the cold sharp bones from the prison realm becomes replaced with Shoko’s softness, and the rattling and grinding of skeletons in his ear fades away with every gasp and moan Shoko breathes out.
Every part of Shoko’s body feels like jelly except her insides, squeezing around Gojo’s cock. His every blow wounds her tighter and tighter, until she feels that sweet tight sensation before a release, which Gojo is coaxing out of her despite their lazy fucking.
Shoko’s moan hits a high note when he hits her spot particularly hard, putting more of his weight in his thrusts, spreads her legs more that Gojo takes a signal to fuck even deeper. Her clit hits his skin and her breaths become more staggered. Her nails dig into the back of his neck and shoulders. Her pillowy walls taut around him, it’s almost strangling, until she breaks loose, white exploding under her eyelids as Shoko comes and Gojo once again thinks about the one imperfection his six eyes have: the inability to store images and memories in his brain. He thinks about it all the time Shoko cums.
He rides her high, still shoving his cock along her wet, gummy walls until she finishes cumming when her fingers lock around his neck, pulling his face down for a deep, open-mouthed kiss and Gojo cums then and there, aware of the fact he wasn’t supposed to yet. That rare, sudden, and unexpected act of affection prompted him to do so.
“Fuck! Shoko..” He staggers, he shakes, about to drop, but stops himself because he doesn’t want to crush her.
Shoko caresses his arms, fingers feeling up every bulging vein and flexed muscle. She feels Satoru’s cum pour into her in slow streams. He cums for a while, unable to move, because there’s too much of it.
“That was a dirty move.” He whispers, his voice sounding strained and exhausted as he continues filling her.
Shoko moans, her insides feeling tight and full, so Gojo puts his mouth on her again to relax her, kissing her and palming her breasts until he’s spent everything inside her.
Shoko’s vision is blurry as she stares up at Satoru above her, tears streaming down the sides of her eyes. Satoru would rather castrate himself and fling his balls into the Pacific than make Shoko cry, but when sex is the reason why she’s crying, he can’t help but get weak in the knees. Because her eyes go stupid beautiful when she does. Like she doesn’t want to cry, but she can’t help it. It makes him promise himself to give her a safer world to live in. If not, maybe a kinder world where she has enough free time to take a nap and not worry about another sorcerer coming into her clinic all bloodied and injured.
He kisses her temple while she tiredly wipes away her tears.
“I may not give you a curse-free world Shoko, but I can give you a less-curses kind of world. A world where you can take your little naps in the afternoon.” A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth.
“A curse-free world is unrealistic. But yes, I’d like less curses to worry about, so we can have a vacation or two once in a while.”
That’s nice, Gojo thinks. He really wants to take Shoko out of her white coats and into that cute sundress she keeps in her closet. That one she bought a few months ago for a beach trip she’s been daydreaming about. He chuckles at the thought of his only motivation to save the world is to see Shoko in a sundress.
In true Gojo fashion, he finally pulls out but twists Shoko’s body to a side-lying position. He lifts Shoko’s right leg, resting the back of her knee on his arm and slides inside again. Fluids run down his length, that he fucks right back in.
One round is not nearly enough for him even though she’s already running on fumes. Shoko gives him a soft groan, utterly drained. “What are you doing?”
“Last one baby.” He says, his tone so quiet and gentle, uncharacteristically so. “You can just sleep.”
Even without him telling her, her body shuts immediately down. Satoru, slips his arm beneath her and wraps it around her, caging her to him, pulling her closer until her back is squished against his damp chest. His heat seeps into her because he always had been like a human furnace.
Satoru’s pace is faster as he pounds through her, his heated breaths against her nape shakes with every harsh thrust. Satoru feels bigger with how he has her leg lifted wide, making her take every shove of his cock inside her without resistance.
Shoko’s voice is unrestrained now, her brain turned to mush, drunk on Satoru. Her eyes are closed, her limbs are loose, but some parts of her are still responding to Satoru, keeping her legs open as he reaches for his hand and draws it to her lower stomach, pressing it down. Gojo groans deeply into the shell of her ear, feeling beneath his palm the bulge of his dick underneath that appears and disappears as he moves. His chest feels hot as Shoko’s eager walls grip him while her hand stays on the back of his, intertwining the spaces of their fingers again.
She has always been too small for him. The two of them always had stark differences. Shoko heals, while he destroys. Even their tastes, she never liked sweets while he had a big sweet tooth. While he can be impulsive, Shoko manages to stay calm, no matter the situation. They have always been a mishmash of pieces that are not of the same puzzle set but have been glued together by their experiences in life. But he wonders why if that is the case, then why does he fit inside her like a glove? How can she still take him even at his most crazed state, rutting endlessly into her? Why, even though they’ve been dealt a difficult life that threatens to separate them, he still believes she’s meant to be with him, meant to stay with him, and made for him. Had her so many times, but he still wants more.
Satoru’s arm that is wrapped around Shoko slides down while his hand drifts to a breast. He molds his hand to its shape, cupping and squeezing. He kisses her nape, then the slope of her shoulders, admiring the small moles dotting her skin, like stars. How fitting for him as a god, to have a small piece of heaven beneath his fingertips.
Satoru’s fingers drift down to her clit, running his fingers on it. Shoko arches her back, her body going taut, giving Satoru access to kiss the side of her neck, droplets of sweat fall from the ends of his hair fall on her skin. She easily comes undone again. He feels a twitch, the constricting squeeze around his cock makes him cum too shortly after.
He twists their still connected bodies as carefully as he can so they can lie beside each other. Satoru tugs her close. Forehead to forehead, nose to nose. Shoko exhaustingly cracks an eye open, her extremities feeling like lead. She’s all too aware Satoru is a god, but not this exact moment, especially with the way he’s catching his breath. A heavy layer of sweat coats his forehead, a drop even slides down his temple. Portions of his hair are standing in all directions that she pulled. And she loves it, that she’s the only one who sees him like this. She sleeps again, tucking herself close to him. Satoru rearranges their limbs before he passed out. When he came to, Shoko was still asleep beside him, and his dick was still inside her. He sighs to himself, looks up at the ceiling, rubs a hand on his face, and looks back at Shoko. His eyes soften, and his body moves on its own. He rises gently, straining to retrieve the boxes of tissue on a table behind her. After successfully getting the box, he pulls out some tissues. A soft noise behind his throat comes out of him as he slides out of her. He wipes her, down to her thighs, then kisses her forehead because she’s too cute when sleeping, crumples the tissues and throws them to a bin. He goes back to her side and draws her body to him again. She stirs as her face is squished against his chest, her legs tangled with his. And this is how she sleeps the day away, lulled by the steady beats of Satoru’s heart. Shoko gets a feeling she’ll have the best sleep of her life.