Work Text:
Utahime did not play sports as a little girl. She was well-behaved, decent. Mannered. It was only natural she grew to be endlessly fascinated with watching sports from a distance – older girls playing soccer behind her house – walking past a group of teens throwing a ball became a ceremony, seeing kids racing each other around a field’s unkempt fence and wishing she could join were her devotionals.
Her first pair of shorts were a gift from Jujutsu High, charity for her first gym class. They were ugly – long, gray, a static-conductive mesh that stuck to her skin.
She loved them.
It was much more fun actually participating rather than watching sports, even if she got burns on the insides of her legs from the climbing rope, sweat stinging against her skinned thighs. Even if she couldn’t get past a foot in the air, even when she was fully into her third year trying to gain some semblance of upper-body strength.
Even when Gojo snickered at her burn marks, looking like a devil, come to personally ensure her descent into madness. Need help? She remembers the lilt of his voice, the way he stuck out of his tongue at her growl. I can lift you up higher than that.
It was especially prevalent when she caught him staring at her legs the next day on the track, still marked in harsh red lines, Gojo sprawled over in the grass by the sidelines, lowering his glasses as she passed. She should have punched him, should have spit on him as she ran by.
Instead, she let it slide, because it made her stomach burn. She felt his blue eyes inside of her, as if he placed a curse on her. It was impossible, but Utahime sometimes felt truly indisposed from Gojo Satoru’s beauty.
Gojo always looked good, but today on the baseball field – the baby blue shirt, his fitted slacks – he looked almost respectable. He had pushed up his sleeves, showing off the flex of his arms as he practiced catching with Itadori, both of them hollering nonsense back and forth to each other with every catch. Utahime almost found it endearing, considering Gojo’s previous attempts at bonding with a young Megumi Fushiguro. It almost made her proud of Gojo for becoming a teacher, one that has students who look up to him.
Almost.
The other Tokyo students were lounging by a giant cooler, filled with drinks and snacks provided by Gojo. He had welcomed them all to it, popping open the lid with a grin. Utahime sneered as Gojo stepped beside her, their students fishing for drinks. “I’m surprised you weren’t keeping a body in this one, too.”
He grinned. “Come on, Utahime.” He waggled his fingers, coaxing her closer to the chest, filled with ice. “I bought your favorite flavor of iced tea.”
He actually had, the bastard. How he remembered was beyond her – it was largely annoying, partially humbling, though it did make her heart constrict.
Gojo’s eyes locked on her mouth as she drank, the mint flavor cooling her insides.
He had planned this game – everyone knew.
Utahime still refused to believe he did it for a reason as selfish as pleasing her.
Itadori noticed Utahime’s beverage, his eyes widening. “Gojo-sensei! You’re so nice!”
Gojo beamed. “I am, aren’t I?”
Never mind.
As she head back over to the Kyoto side of the field, she overheard Mai chatting with Momo, under the shadow of a shady tree. Mai sounded pissed, though Utahime knew it could just be her chosen tone, the girl usually riled up over nothing. “What’s Gojo dressed up for, anyway? It’s a baseball game.”
Momo shrugged, picking at her cuticles, hovering an inch off the ground with her broom under her. “Maybe he’s got a date.”
Utahime ignored them, blushing.
The game was tragic on both sides – Utahime felt bad after her severe scolding of Momo, and Gojo’s delight in her tirade almost made her storm over to scold him. By the time the first half of the game was over, her students weren’t dismally behind, just dismayed – though they didn’t seem bored – merely underwhelmed by Utahime’s enthusiasm.
At halftime, Gojo made an excuse to pass behind her, his hand skimming the small of her back. Even through her two layers of shirts, she felt his fingertips, the deliberate pressure behind them.
“Hope you’re not a sore loser, Uta.”
By the time she opened her mouth, he was already jogging away, giving her a backwards wave, her heel digging into the dirt ground beneath her.
He was an impossible man to deal with.
Why did it have to be him?
*****
Of course, Gojo’s students won, if only by two points.
“Utahime!” Gojo strode over to her, discarding a tanned baseball on the ground behind him – he took off his sunglasses, tucking them into a pocket. He was grinning around a red lollipop, his eyes sparkling, mirror reflections of the sky. The stick moved as he talked, and Utahime told herself to focus on the space just beyond his face, to not watch his mouth. “I have something to discuss, if that’s alright with you. You know. Alone.”
She knew he didn’t. Still, this was inevitable – her body craved it, magnetized by his nearness. Utahime still felt his electric-blue curse inside her, even after all these years.
After all, she still caught Gojo watching her.
“Alright.”
They walked beside each other to the locker rooms while their students dragged bags of equipment back to the school’s main gym – there was no reason for them to return to the field house – Utahime said a quick prayer Miwa didn’t come searching for her. Gojo flicked the empty stick into a trashcan, Utahime stupidly impressed that it sailed in, not even bouncing off the rim.
Utahime had barely turned on the lights of the locker room when Gojo’s mouth was on hers, his tongue bright red from the sucker he just finished. She kissed him back, having to stand on the tips of her sneakers to reach Gojo’s face. He lifted her up to his mouth, her ribs tender as his hands spanned across them.
Gojo leaned down, ever petulant. Smirking, he asked, “Did you like it?”
“Shut up,” Utahime could have knocked his skull against the tiled wall. He was infuriating, the heat of his palms sinking into the backs of her thighs as he groped her, desperate to touch. The room smelled of soap bars and disinfectant – she was happy as Gojo leaned down to her, the cologne on his neck lingering behind her eyes, making them water.
“Say you liked it,” Gojo kissed her neck, his hands locking her against him. She could feel the length of his cock press into her stomach, and her gut began to simmer. He was already so hard, just from a kiss.
Fuck Gojo Satoru for being the best she’s ever had.
Crowding her, he breathed into her skin, his pulse racing. She could almost smell his blood, the He breathed her in, voice pious enough to pass for a saints if he weren’t getting off right now. “Say you enjoyed the game, and I’ll let you go.”
She wouldn’t. He knew she wouldn’t.
She needed this.
Utahime ignored him, kissing him again – his laugh was matchless, undeterred joy. She pulled him into one of the shower stalls, the plastic curtain falling shut behind them, trapping them in a twilight of half-masked fluorescents.
Managing to maneuver around Gojo’s undeterred hands, Utahime unbuckled her shorts, stepping out of them. Gojo could definitely see her panties under her tights – a red pair with scalloped edges she’d worn just for him.
She recalled the first time Gojo saw them, his fingers tracing the skin below her stomach lightly, his gaze intent. He lowered his voice to a gravel that was so unlike him. It haunted her: You’re driving me insane, you know that?
She tried not to let herself think about it.
Gojo didn’t bother pulling down her tights, his lungs holding his breath hostage. Instead, he tore the thin material of her leggings with his bare hands, Gojo’s nails leaving marks on her thighs, thick red cords that made her gasp. She was sweating, her skin tingling under the room’s air conditioning as he pulled the mesh apart, exposing her.
“Gojo,” Utahime flushed, her hands reaching down to cover the gaps in her tights, the feeling of indecency overwhelming her. She would have been angrier with Gojo for destroying them if he wasn’t looking at her with such devotion right now, such zealous fever.
He grinned, twisted. “I’ve wanted to do that all day,” Gojo’s hands slid under the stretchy material, his fingers squeezing her bare legs, ripping the fabric more as he cupped her ass. He always made her feel stunted, his palms dwarfing her, battering her with worship. “You have no idea how cute you look.”
Gojo’s hands trailed everywhere, the mesh turning to shreds under his ministrations. Utahime could feel herself getting wet, felt it soak through her panties, miserably hot. Gojo pressed his clothed cock against her center, rutting up into her. The layers between them were agonizing, making her whine.
Gojo grinned, his cheeks flushed from the noonday sun. “You been thinking about me?”
“Shut up.”
Utahime grabbed his wrist, forcing his hand under her cunt. If he wasn’t going to give her what she wanted, she was going to take it from him – his hand was huge, and she felt a surge of heat go through her as she guided him to her folds, sliding up and down the length of his palm, smearing his skin with her mess. Utahime felt her own hands barely able to grasp his wrist, shaking as he watched her rock on him.
Gojo’s voice was low, his dick grinding into her leg as she rut against him. “You know, in that uniform, someone would probably think you’re my student.”
Utahime blushed, his words sinking into her like a syrupy drug. “No.”
“Yeah,” Gojo grinned into her neck, his tongue on the shell of her ear. “You’re so little. A first-year in love with her teacher, maybe?”
Utahime heard static, felt the blood rush to her ears, funneling in an infinite spiral. She spread her panties with one hand, refusing to let go of Gojo’s wrist with the other, unfolding a finger to slide inside her. She sighed as he entered her, pumping lazily as she thrust her clit against the heel of his hand, the pressure lush, heavenly. Gojo curled his digit inside her, reaching up to stroke her walls.
He leaned down, his dick pressing against his pants in a clear, thick line. Utahime felt frantic with need, one finger suddenly worthless. She unfurled his next one, slotting it in beside the first, making him smile at her eagerness. “Would you stay after class and fuck me? Let me bend you over my desk?”
Yes. Utahime’s mind chanted, her hands flying to fist in the back of his shirt, staving off a shudder of arousal. Yes. Yes. He was teasing her, she knew, but the truth behind his words was tearing her apart.
She would do anything for Gojo to take her.
“I bet you’d be class president, just so you could have some alone time with me,” Gojo’s free hand escaped her waist, reaching up to cup her breasts through her shirt, pressing her spine into the wall, the tile grout smelling like bleach. “Bet you’d slip love letters into my mailbox alongside a shiny apple, acting all innocent, huh? Meanwhile you’d be dreaming of my dick.”
Normally she would have killed Gojo Satoru for insinuating she found him at all charming. Now, however, it made her hot, knowing Gojo knew the extent of her feelings. How bare they were, how obvious. That she fantasized about him, his eyes grazing her skin like razors.
“Yes,” Utahime bit her lip, turning her head to the side as Gojo attacked her neck, his teeth pressing into her tendons. She moaned, for once letting the sounds fall from her mouth, the little gasps she usually swallowed. They had agreed to not leave marks. Fuck that, Utahime thought. If he wanted her like this, Utahime would give it to him. Let him take her, mark her as unusable for any other man.
She felt him bunch his two fingers together, the overlap inside of her making her tremble as he crammed a third finger in her, stroking them all at once with force.
“Gojo,” She heard her voice come out as a whisper, her fists wrinkling his shirt beyond smoothing. “Please.”
That seemed to satisfy Gojo enough – she leaned back to look at him, his smile gooey, eyes glassy. His voice was still clear as ever. “I’d touch you when no one was watching. Stroke the backs of your thighs as I passed you in the hall.” He emphasized each promise with a thrust into her, his fingers stretching her painfully full, her entrance fluttering around the base of his digits. “I’d make you wet during class – make you wait for me to get inside you at the end of the day.” Gojo shivered, his dick pressed hard against her thigh, his length rigid. “You’d be dripping with how full you were of me on your walk home. Under your little skirt.”
Utahime felt her cunt pulse around his fingers, her gut boiling. She knew he felt it – he looked bewitched, his eyes never leaving her face, never stopping his search for her response.
He’d take anything she gave him.
Too bad she’d give him anything.
It killed her, thinking Gojo thought about her this way. How it was just over a decade ago they both were students themselves, Gojo often pestering her in the hallway, trying to get her attention. Teasing her, poking her, acting like a brat – and somehow they ended up like this.
“Gojo,” Utahime, suddenly determined, flipped herself over, his fingers pulling out of her as she moved. She pressed her face to the wall and thrust back onto him, desperate to have him fill her, take her like this. “Get in me.”
“Such a good girl,” Gojo mumbled, unzipping his pants, stroking his dick. She watched, his head shiny with precum, long, thicker than her own wrist. He squeezed his base as she met his eyes, his voice mangled. “The best.”
Utahime closed her eyes as he lined up, resting her forehead on the cool wall.
He was wrong.
She was very bad. This was bad.
Gojo breathed onto a sore tendon in her neck, the heat unrightfully exhilarating. “You’d be my favorite, you know.” Gojo was close already; she could tell. He was unraveling before he could even get inside her, spilling words better kept to himself. “You’re always my favorite.”
Utahime knew that, of course.
Hearing Gojo confess it devastated her.
Utahime felt his head catch on her entrance, her rim burning as he pushed into her, his head knocking the breath out of her. Gojo took his time bottoming out in her, sinking slowly until she could feel his balls against her thighs, both of them near inseparable. Of course, Gojo pulled almost completely out of her cunt before slamming back in, his dick absolutely coated in her slick. Utahime moaned, her insides unable to anticipate his thrusts, his dick hollowing her out, making her spasm around his length. Every thrust was faster, pulling him deeper, her own body wanting to consume him.
“I bet you’d be jealous when I helped other girls with their homework, huh?” Gojo huffed on the back of her neck, obviously enjoying this fantasy. She hissed as he skimmed a bundle of nerves inside her, his dick reaching the corners of her world. He was a piece of shit, playing right into Utahime’s dreams, but she was too caught up to deny him. “You’d probably get all pissed and refuse to talk to me for a week. But I fuck you too good for you to stay away too long.”
She squirmed on his cock, her cunt too tight, feeling suddenly overly cramped. Utahime always felt weak compared to Gojo, though she’d never admit it, but never as much as when he had her completely under his spell like this, completely abandoned to herself.
Yet Gojo never hurt her. He only ever made sure it was good.
The best.
“Yes,” Utahime mouthed, her throat humming as Gojo pounded into her. She let her head rest on his chest, back arching, feeling the lines of his muscles under his thin shirt as she nuzzled her body into him, trying to fit herself into him perfectly. “Because you’re mine.”
“Yeah,” Gojo stroked her sides, the loose hairs that had fallen from her ponytail sticking to her neck as he pet her, soothing her. His cock twitched inside her, sheathed completely, giving shallow thrusts that felt like love-bites. “My girl.”
Gojo had a grip on her unlike any man – any sorcerer, any technique.
It only deepened each time they were together.
“I bet every boy in the class would have a crush on you,” Gojo’s hands found her clit, fumbling, rubbing it roughly through her lacy underwear, making her bite back a scream. “But they wouldn’t matter. Cause you have me.”
Utahime could only try and nod, only scramble to press the back of his hand harder onto her clit, already slick from how messy her cunt was. She was non-literate, unable to process anything except deeper, fuck me deeper.
“I’d keep you all to myself,” Gojo’s intuition was strong – he fucked her harder, his cheeks bright red. He looked deranged, too, Utahime realized. They were both trapped in this game, this loop of them forever being close, and never together. He hit her cunt’s center again, making her sob, her throat tearing. “You’d be my girl.”
I am your girl, Utahime wanted to say. She was. She would always be Gojo Satoru’s girl – she couldn’t escape him, didn’t want to.
The truth is, he spoiled her.
Arranging the baseball game for her was ridiculous, but it set her heart on fire. Made her want to claw it out and hand it over to him, raw. Half blue. Mostly blood. She’d do it, if it got him to shut up and fuck her.
As he shoved his dick into her cervix, she saw blood, tasted it as he bit the inside of her lip. It was only fair she if got an ulcer from this, if every time she winced it was because of Gojo Satoru.
He pressed a kiss to the side of her face, teeth scraping against tender skin as he spoke. “I’d get on my knees to stick my head between your thighs,” Gojo’s hand trailed from her clit to the nail marks he had left on her legs, pinching them. “And I’d eat you out under your desk. You deserve it, since you’re such a good girl.”
She came.
Webs of black filled her vision, though she blinked through it, hearing Gojo murmur praises to her, hearing him coax her back, her soreness fading instantly to a pleasurable buzz. Gojo was mewling in her ear, obviously close, his dick grinding into her walls.
Utahime hummed, arching her back into Gojo again, reveling in how good the stretch felt to her body, how it made Gojo suck in a breath.
“Come here.” Utahime nodded to her shoulder, wanting Gojo’s chin to rest there. Like her own little angel. Devil. It didn’t matter anymore.
Gojo leaned down, always coming when beckoned.
“I’d make sure to wear my cherry lipgloss to class,” Utahime mumbled into his ear, her body already gone, already surrendered to him. There was no dignity between them – it only made her bolder, more certain. “And kiss your neck. So even after you washed it off, you’d smell like me.”
Gojo’s mouth was open, panting. “Fuck.”
“You’d let me pull your tie while I rode you in your chair, right?” Utahime felt dizzy, rolling on a surge of lust as he weakly thrust into her, sporadic strokes that made her itch for more. Her voice was high, girly, she realized. Utahime never flirted. She’s never needed to – never knew it would have this effect on Gojo.
Utahime could picture this Gojo so clearly in her mind – this exact shirt, his iron-pressed khaki pants stained wet from her cunt. She could picture the stubble on his chin, how it would scratch when she crooned upward to kiss him, her school uniform unbuttoned to show her bra, Gojo transfixed.
Utahime knew immediately she’d be getting off on this for weeks. No, months.
She rest her head against the wall, satisfied as Gojo fucked her brutally, making her clit throb, wanting more already. “I’d fit perfectly in your lap.”
Utahime didn’t have to imagine the last part. They both knew she did.
It was enough to make Gojo seethe, air streaming out of his teeth.
“You do, baby girl,” Gojo was sweating, his eyes blurring. “You belong there.”
“Belong to you,” Utahime hummed, gratified when Gojo grabbed her hips, forcing them both upright, as if they were two halves of the same body. Gojo’s head met the tiles in front of her, his jaw scrapping against her cheek, his stubble perfectly bothersome. “Your girl.”
Gojo rubbed his cheek against hers more, their scent mixing. Shared sunscreen, sweat, the taste of Gojo’s lollipop. The mint tea he bought her. The smell of a leather baseball glove.
Utahime cupped his hand, bringing his knuckles to her mouth. She pressed a kiss to them, tasting herself as she sucked, letting her drool coat his hands. Gojo’s cock twitched inside her, the curve of his dick making her ache all over, the sensation spreading, undulating. Her lips brushed over the back his hand as she spoke, her words low. “Who am I, Satoru?”
Gojo’s voice shattered. “My girl.”
He came, draping himself over her back, his hands shaking on her hips as he pumped her full – it spread a rush of warmth through her, the release making her want to sleep, her body processing Gojo like a sedative. Distantly, Utahime knew she would have to cut off the rest of her tights, make an excuse that it was too hot to wear them back to Kyoto.
She secretly wanted to save them, make them a holy relic.
Utahime told herself to calm down.
After she felt Gojo’s breathing settle, Utahime shifted, Gojo groaning when her cunt squeezed around his cock. If she was honest, she could have taken him again, maybe even blown him if he asked nicely. She considered it, though he seemed a little tired now.
“Gojo.” He was still inside her, his cum trailing down her leg. “We need to clean up.”
“Don’t go,” He mumbled, his face buried into her back.
It took her a moment to respond. Utahime swallowed. “I have to. You know that.”
Gojo whined.
“When can we see each other again?”
Utahime blinked. That wasn’t part of their agreement. They never tried to see each other, never planned anything. It was best to keep these moments infrequent, random, spurts of bliss in their unstable lives.
Utahime didn’t indulge him with an answer. Instead, she shrugged him off her back, his dick sliding out of her in a slow pull as she moved, each inch feeling like a mile. She felt empty, bereaved as she straightened her shoulders, picking her shorts up off the cold floor.
Gojo had flipped over to lean against the wall, his cock still swollen and red. He watched her tear the rest of her tights off, merely scraps of black, stuffing them into a trashcan. Utahime’s shorts were rough on her skin, but at they were long enough to hide Gojo’s nail marks and the bruises forming from his pinching.
Utahime paused before leaving, turning around to see Gojo unbuttoning his shirt. She quickly glanced away, her hands busying themselves with her ponytail, tucking the stray strands of hair into her cap. “I really enjoyed today, Gojo. Thank you.”
She hovered by the door just long enough to hear Gojo turn on the shower, her mind settling on the knowledge he would have to put back on the clothes they were together in; knowing he’d smell her until he went to bed at night.