fuck buddies don't act like this (Gojo x Reader)

Chapter 47

Todays the day, you can't live with this fever any longer, the dreams, the fantasies they whisper to you all too real hot, steamy, flustering thoughts that you wake up from with a disappointed whimper. Sweat clinging to you with the only desire of being devoured by a white-haired monster with blaring blue eyes. It's been a couple of weeks since the incident and you're currently wondering if Gojo even wants you anymore to let alone to fuck you.

Days even weeks have passed since your sexual awakening decided to say hi and punch you in the gut each morning testing with urgency or the countless times you've catch yourself staring into the abyss of his lifted shirt. Fucking tease how can one man make you so damn horny all the damn time. You know he's just stretching but every damn time you want to rip the godforsaken thing apart and tackle him to the floor smothering him in love bites. But no, you're stuck here like some sort of celibate nun watching as the sexiest man alive trots away with a peach mochi stuffed in his cheeks.

For fuck's sake why is he so fucking sexy even when he looks like a chipmunk eating his walnuts. Stuffing his cheeks like a hoarding hamster readying itself for the long cold winter, you might as well get frost bite if he's not daring to touch you by that point. Is it so hard for a man to get a hint, it's not like you're dealing with an alien here then again, he might be more responsive that way. Oh god now you've just pictured him getting probed or you for that matter... The way his body moves above you, the angular curves of his stomach straining to keep up with the workout happening between you. Your insides coil around him in a slip never letting him part from you, always entwined. Crossing your legs, you sigh the bubbles of your never-ending fantasies playing wicked dreams upon you as you feel the rise and fall of your beating heart.

You can't go on for much longer, it's as if you're burning alive with ecstasy every waking minute of your life and even in your dreams you can't find comfort but the assault of heat pouring down onto you. White hot lava seizing control turning you into a crazy person and you will be if nothing happens tonight. Falling back onto the mattress, a rumpled mess of sweaty fabrics spinning the tale of your countless sleepless nights. There's no sleep for the sexually aroused constipated here, just torturous nights of being devoured, taken quickly against the wall, this bed, God even the cold tiled floor. Your dominant arm aches in spikes of weakening defence too tired to even lift a finger at this point let alone finish yourself off yet again tonight.

It's not enough, never is and as pricks of crystals drip from the sides down to your hairline; exhausted, ashamed and ugly. Ugly that you want him more than anything, you want him to hold you and say that you're the prettiest thing he has ever gazed upon. Kiss you tenderly, that no plain of your body is left untouched from his rose coloured lips, that they leave all his touches over you. Blanketing you in his hold as he makes love to you tonight, ah what a nice dream that would be sad that it won't come true.

It never does.

Just outside your door the floorboards creak and thud, sitting up initially spooked at first but quickly realising it's only you and Gojo in the house. You watch in amusement as a small red pocket sized card slides under the door in a startling vibrancy contrasting against the floor. What's this you see, springing from the bed all too comfortable in this newfound living situation you're finding yourself in you pick up the card. It's glittery with red dust coating all four corners, sealed off with a golden white wax, you can't help the smile playing upon your lips as you tear the seal off.

A few words scribed in gold sit centre flashing you in a divining light of a warm glow. Of course, he can read your fucking mind, he's Gojo after all.

Evening dress. 8 o'clock.

There's nothing to smile about they're just words written in gold suggesting to a night all alone with him. Gojo is setting up a date night with you, it must be that evening dress for eight o'clock sharp and oh my god his penmanship is astoundingly beautiful. Shit, you haven't even showered this morning and your hair, oh God your hair needs ten layers of oils and shampoos before you're even ready to think about anything else. Quickly looking around you halt remembering a small little gift that you got from him not so long ago that you think would work wonders with your evening gown.