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It’s always nerve wracking, starting at a new job. But this is different, since it’s not just any job. Not just a job bussing at some restaurants, or working graveyard shifts at a gas station. Oh no.
It’s so much more. Since you have friends that know people, and those people know people. People that managed to get you an internship at one of the biggest companies in the entire country, which, quite honestly, makes it all the more nerve wracking. Even if you’ve been having a nervous breakdown, on the same hand, you’ve been positively thrilled to even have the opportunity. You’ve worked hard to get here, really. So you suppose it’s okay that you ran around your apartment for a cool 5 minutes when you first got the email, and called your parents, your best friend, and everyone else who would give you a minute of their time.
You wake up on your first day at 5 A.M to get ready. partially because you’ve been too wired to even sleep at all, and partially because you want to look your best, to give the best first impression you can. You take an extra long shower, spend the time to do your hair, and you put on your smartest, classiest outfit. Blouse, skirt, stockings and your favourite heels. You take some time to admire your reflection, and honestly, you think you look pretty great. A smile graces your face, and the feeling of fluttery butterflies comes back all over again.
You can’t wait. You really, really can’t wait.
The time you actually leave your building is around 8.30, since you start at 9, and you still have to, of course, get there. But a half hour should be enough to get you there on time, you think.
It seems, however, you thought wrong. So, so very wrong. Since the time mockingly reads 9.05 on your watch, and your left flushed and gasping for breath as you briskly approach the reception desk from your run up the stairs. So much for a good first impression. You decide that you’ll definitely need to leave earlier as you attempt to catch your breath before you speak to anyone.
The receptionist, a friendly looking girl, likely around your age, turns to look at you when you stop in front of the desk, slightly leaning into it. You clear your throat, trying to quell your nerves as she looks up at you, waiting for you to speak.
“Hi,-“ God, could you sound anymore nervous? “Uhm, I’m supposed to be starting my internship here today?” You attempt your best, confident smile, but you’re sure it makes you look even more nervous. Luckily, though, the lovely receptionist takes no notice, or pretends not to anyways, and gives you a kind smile as she stands, moving out from behind the desk.
“Ah, yes. Come with me.” You follow as she leads you down a quiet hallway, to a big wooden door. Her knuckle raps on the door twice, before she opens the door, motioning for you to come in. It’s a respectably large office, if anything. You notice the large window taking up the space on the back wall, letting in the natural light, a few plants, an impressively sized book shelf taking up space next to a few of the filing cabinets. You force yourself to snap out of your little trance when the receptionist speaks next.
“This is the new intern for you, sir.” Comes her chirpy voice, and you finally notice the man sitting behind the imposing mahogany desk, in a no doubt expensive chair. You hear him hum, before he speaks.
“Thank you,” He nods to the receptionist, who proceeds to leave, and his gaze shifts to you. “Come and sit.”
You awkwardly shuffle over to his desk. You assume this is the boss, from how grand his office is, and from how…big he is. Even sitting, he’s big. The buttons on his shirt are fighting for their lives, by the looks of things, and his shoulders are impossibly broad. He gestures for you to sit, leaning back in his chair.
You quickly scan your eyes over his desk, noting everything on it. A pot of pens, a mug, a rubix cube, a desk plate reading ‘Mr R. Sukuna’, Chief executive officer printed in the small letters, and a framed photo of what looks to be him and his family. A beautiful blonde woman next to him, with two unruly little girls in front of them, which you assume are his daughters. So he’s a family man, huh?
He clears his throat, and your eyes focus back on his face. A smile pulls on his lips, and he reaches his hand across the desk. “Welcome. I’m Ryomen Sukuna. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His voice is deep, and extremely soothing. He should consider a side hustle in reading those audiobooks your mom always listens to.
Ryomen Sukuna. You definitely know him, given he’s a big name in the business world, for how successful he is, but being this close has you nervous all over again.
You realise you’re just gawking, and quickly reach to shake his hand enthusiastically, your hand laughibly smaller than his. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Mr. Sukuna. Thank you for having me here. It’s, uhm- always been my dream to work in a place like this.” You catch yourself rambling, and have to internally slap yourself. Thankfully, all he does is laugh, obviously amused by your enthusiasm.
“Well, it’s always nice to have a fresh face on board.” He hums, and you can’t help but smile back, albeit still a little nervous. A few quiet seconds pass, before he speaks again. “Right, well. Suppose I should take you to your supervisor, then.” He stands, and you’re left slightly surprised, and a little disappointed, as you follow him, quickly standing to follow him. You were half hoping he would be mentoring you.
“Oh, so you’re not-?” You try not to sound as miffed as you feel, and he chuckles lightly, speaking to you over your shoulder.
“Unfortunately not. As much as I would love to, I’m a busy guy.” You suppose that’s reasonable. “But,” He says, finally coming to a stop in front another door, turning to look at you.
“I am leaving you in capable hands, so you’ve got no need to worry, okay?” He smiles, and you nod back. That makes you slightly better. He takes that as enough of a response, and knocks on the door once, before opening the door, not particularly waiting for any response.
This office isn’t as big as Sukuna’s. It’s still
pretty remarkable, of course. You try and take notice of your surroundings, but this time, you have a hard time taking your eyes off the man sitting behind the desk. Because, holy shit.
He’s extremely handsome, to put it frankly. A head of the whitest hair you’ve ever seen, and the brightest baby blue eyes behind a pair of glasses. You think Sukuna is introducing you to this man, but you honestly couldn’t say for sure. It’s hardly professional to be so distracted, isn’t it? Thankfully, though, A heavy hand on comes down on your shoulder, startling you out of the trance you were in. Keep it together, for gods sake!
“-I’m sure you’ll be able to learn a lot from him. Gojo here is one of the best.” Sukuna smiles, patting you on the shoulder, “And, if there is to be any concerns, you can take them straight to me, mmkay?” He looks at you, and you nod in response. He hums satisfactorily, before promptly exiting the room.
The door clicks shut behind Sukuna, leaving the room quiet, spare the tick of the clock mounted on the wall. The nerves come rushing back as you stand there, feeling his eyes scrutinising you. You steel yourself, as you open your mouth to say something, but he beats you to it.
“Late on your first day, huh?” His devastatingly melodic voice comes, and you’re left a little confused. How did he know? Was he watching you from somewhere? You don’t know, but you try not to focus on it. In an attempt to seem less a nervous wreck, you force a small laugh, and immediately regret it. “Well, you know how it is.” Ew. You cringe internally at the sound of your voice. But you swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch up, even for a moment.
“Mm,” He hums, shifting in his chair, “Come and take a seat.” You shuffle over, sitting down in one of the chairs opposite his desk. You take note of the name on his desk plate, since you failed to listen to Sukuna’s little speech earlier, too focused on the man himself.
Mr S. Gojo. The small letters printed beneath read Financial manager. Huh. He clears his throat, forcing you to look back up at him. His eyes run over you again, before he speaks.
“Since this is your first week, you’ll spend most of it with me,” He pauses, leaning forward to prop his hands against the desk, “Think of it as a little introduction, yeah? It’ll help you get used to the way we do things here. How does that sound?” A smile spreads across his face and you nod. That sounds reasonable. His brow twitches up, as he looks at you expectantly. “First rule of business, is confidence, ain’t it? Let me hear that voice.” Oh.
“O-Oh- uhm, yes, Mr. Gojo, that sounds good.” You stutter, and that appears to satisfy him, as his face relaxes again, a handsome smile pulling on his lips. “Good girl.” Woah. What the hell? You try to ignore that. He must just be a.. really friendly guy. That makes sense, yeah. Totally. He hums again, before he stands, coming out from behind the desk. He’s tall, you notice.
“Right. We can go for a bit of a tour then, yeah?” You stand up, slightly adjusting your skirt as you nod in response, before you remember what he just said. “Mhm, sounds good.” You give him a smile, and try to ignore the fluttering feeling the smile he gives in return causes. You can totally do this.
He takes you around the building. It’s pretty insightful, if only brief, seeing what all the different departments are like. He shows you the break room, where to find the bathroom, all those things. You try to stay focused on what you’re being shown, and not the muscles of his back shifting under his shirt, with somewhat success. The rest of your first day turns out to be pretty uneventful, if anything. Most of it is spent sitting at Gojo’s desk, watching him work. Sure it’s a little…boring, and you wish you’d get a chance to actually work, but it’s insightful to see how a professional works, too. Plus, you’d never complain, especially since an opportunity this good doesn’t come along often.
This is only your first day. You’re sure there’s more to come tomorrow.
The day comes to an end fairly quickly. Gojo takes the courtesy of walking you to the elevator, which wouldve probably been helpful this morning. The elevator ride down is comfortably quiet, as is the walk out onto the parking lot, before he speaks, catching your attention, turning your head to look at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” You nod in return, and he smiles. You think you’re going to get away, before he starts again. “Oh, just one more thing,” and you fully turn, stopping as he approaches you. He really is tall, huh?
“You’d be able to pick me up a coffee on your way here tomorrow, yeah?” He asks, and you try to say no. You’d have to leave even earlier to get to your nearest café, since it’s not on your route. You try to say no, but that smile of his is too charming. “Uhm, yeah, sure. No problem.” God, talk about pushover.
His smile widens as he looks down at you, and almost melt. “That’s what I like to hear.” You blink up at him wide eyed, trying to find words. “Uh- I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” You give him a wry smile, and he chuckles quietly, and gives you a hum of agreement, tucking his hands into his pockets. Finally, you turn back around and begin your walk back to your place, and try to pretend you cant feel his eyes burning holes into your ass. By the time you cross the threshold in your apartment, your body feels so heavy. You must be more exhausted than you thought.
You go about your evening, eating whatever leftovers are in the fridge while you sit infront of the T.V, only half watching whatever shitty reality show is on, but your mind is somewhere else. You can’t help but think of Gojo. To be honest, you’re starting to think he’s under the impression you’re an assistant, not just an intern. But hey, it’s only been one day. You don’t need to think so negatively straight from the jump, right? Tomorrow is a new day.
You’ve been trying not to think about his face, either. Or his broad shoulders. Or his hands, that you definitely weren’t staring at. Not at all.
You shake your head, like your trying to extinguish those thoughts from your brain. You turn the T.V off, and head through into your bedroom. You quickly strip out of your clothes, and into your biggest shirt and a little pair of shorts, before slipping into bed. You let your eyelids fall heavy, and you’re asleep within no time.
Tuesday starts mostly the same. You wake up at a slightly more reasonable 6 A.M, and get ready. You wear almost the same outfit, your favourite heels, stockings, skirt, and a blouse. You opt for a pretty lilac one today, though. It’s a little lower cut, you realise, but you shrug it off. It’s hardly revealing, you think, it’s not a huge deal.
You leave your apartment at 7.55 today. Before you head to the office, you make your detour to the closet café to pick up the coffee for Gojo, like he asked. You only realise now he didn’t actually tell you what kind he likes, so you play it safe. You get an Americano for him, and a vanilla latte for yourself, as a little treat. The café isn’t all too busy this time in the morning, so you get your drinks reasonably quick. Thank god for small mercies.
You head off, and get to the office on time today, which puts a little more pep in your step. Today’s gonna be a good day. You walk by the receptionist, greeting her with a small “good morning,” as you head towards Gojo’s office. You knock with your free hand, waiting for him to allow your entrance. You stand there, rocking on your heels for a hot minute, till you hear his voice shout from inside. “Come on in!”
Your free hand moves to the doorknob, twisting it open as you enter the room, closing the door with your hip. “Good morning,” You greet, walking over to set his coffee onto his desk. He takes it with a hum, taking a brief sip before setting it down, lips pressed into a close line as his eyes run over you. You’re starting to feel slightly uncomfortable, just a bit.
“That shirt’s a little open, aint it?” He questions, and you panic inwardly. Is it? You didn’t think it was that bad. Oh my god, does he think you’re a whore, wanting to prance around with your tits half out?
Get yourself together! “Oh, Uhm, sorry,” You try, watching his face closely, “I didn’t realise.” It’s an extremely flimsy excuse, and you cringe at yourself. You could’ve at least attempted to come up with something to save face. He gives a small “Mhm,” his eyes narrowing a little, before he sighs. “Oh, well, come and sit then.” You almost sigh in relief. At least he seems to have taken your excuse, even if you can’t help but feel like you’ve disappointed him. You hurry over, taking your seat next to him. You watch with wide eyes as he takes his coffee to his lips again, and you try not to stare too hard at the way his throat looks when he swallows.
“Mm,” He smacks his lips, “Thanks for the coffee.” He smiles sidewardly, and you smile sheepishly back. All feels somewhat right again. Even if you can’t chase off that queasy feeling.
The morning is, again, quite uneventful. You spent most of it sitting down, watching him work away, occasionally writing down some notes, or doodling on your notebook to feign productivity. You also get sent to look for A4 paper for him, which is a nice break from all the sitting you’ve been doing. It’s been a bit boring, but pleasant. It’s nice. Lunch rolls around soon enough, which you spend most of outside, stretching your legs. It gets a little boring, sitting around, sue you.
It’s a quiet afternoon, you could swear you’re half falling asleep with how peaceful it is at the moment. You’re quietly thinking over what you should have for dinner tonight, before his voice interrupts your train of thought. “Hey, be a doll and go and get me a glass of water,” A pause, “Please?”
You raise an eyebrow, but quickly neutralise your face. On one hand, you don’t want to say yes, and get into the habit of doing things like this. But on the other hand, you hate the idea of disappointing anyone. So you nod, heading off to the break room to fill a glass up, and head back to his office. A smile spreads across his face as you reenter, and you round the desk to hand it to him. “Ah, thank you,” he starts, reaching out for the glass.
It all happens so quick, you hardly register it happening. His hand slips, and you try to catch the glass, and somehow, your front ends up completely soaked. You stand there, utterly horrified, on the verge of tears. You don’t even need to look to know that your shirt is practically transparent now, clinging to your skin. That queasy feeling returns as you swear you hear him stifle a laugh shortly, before clearing his throat. “Aw, shit, I’m sorry-“ His voice is hoarse, and he stands, looking down at you as his bottom lip tucks between his teeth. “I think I have a spare shirt somewhere, if you’d want that?”
What do you want? Right now, you don’t even want to look at him. If you had the free will, you’d run off home, lock yourself in your bedroom, and never show your face again out of sheer embarrassment. But that wouldn’t be logical at all. You convince your brain that he really is sorry about it, and try desperately to ignore the fact that if you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s getting a kick out of seeing you upset. You take a deep breath, giving him a nod, especially since you don’t trust your voice not to shake, not to tip you over the edge. You really, really don’t want to cry in front of him. You hear him exhale deeply, taking another minute to look at you before he turns away, going to look for that shirt, you assume.
In this moment, as you stand in his office, arms wrapped around yourself to try and conceal yourself, to maintain even a speck of your dignity, you realise, Gojo is… well, kind of mean. He’s treated you as nothing but an assistant since Sukuna handed you off to him, even though your not. You're an intern. You want to work as your own person.
Ah. What are you even saying? It’s only been two whole days, and one little accident isn’t enough to judge him like that. Even if you’re upset right now.
He rummages around in the cabinet for a few more seconds, before he makes a sound of success, turning back to you holding a white shirt. A somewhat sheepish looks appears on his face as you holds it for you to take, and you , albeit reluctantly, do. “Thank you,” You mumble, trying to hide the slight shake in your voice. The shirt itself, is quite obviously far too big, given he’s probably twice your size, but hey, it’s dry.
You swallow, and turn to leave, to change in the bathroom, and maybe have a cry, before he catches you, stopping you in your tracks with a sharp, “Hey.” Oh my god.
Schooling the grimace off your face before you turn to him, looking at him with practiced politeness. Unfortunately, he looks really handsome, standing there with his hands in his pockets, eyes falling to your tits before he forces them up. “Where are you going?”
Huh? You thought it would be quite obvious. “To, uhm, change, sir.” You mumble, trying to focus on his face, to show him you’re not currently dying inside. His eyebrow raises, and his tongue runs over his teeth. “Why not just change in here? I mean, I’ve seen it all already.” He makes it sound like that was the obvious option, and you feel yourself go a little pale. What.
“O-Oh…I-“ You try to push back, insist that you’ll just change in the bathroom, but he interrupts you off before you can even say anything. “You really want to go out there, like that?” His voice sharper than before, as he gestures to the soaked shirt, cooling your skin enough that it has you slightly shivering. You never thought of that. All you can do is blink wide eyed at him, and an unbearably smug look appears on his face. “Mhm,” He nearly purrs, “Go on. I dont mind.” He smiles, dropping back down into his seat, folding his hands onto his lap as he slightly spreads his long legs.
What a creep. That much you can say. But, you suppose you should be thankful he’s not making you go out in such a state. A shiver wracks through you, reminding you you’re still just standing here, cold and wet. Well, since he won’t let you leave, you suppose theres no choice but to strip infront of him, a man you met not even two days ago. You really thought you had higher standards than whatever this was.
Eventually, you suck it up. Your fingers begin to work at your buttons, until you’re able peel off your blouse, letting it fall to the floor with a small thud, leaving you partially bare. Even if your eyes are glued to the wall, it’s increasingly difficult to ignore the way his eyes are practically devouring every bare patch of skin available. It makes you feel, something. Something that’s almost familiar, a tingling burn deep in your abdomen that you can’t place. Shame? Embarrassment? Something else, akin to desire?
No. You’d hope not. You shake that thought off, pulling the shirt over your head. Immediately, you realise you’re swimming in it, and you feel like a kid playing with her dad’s clothes. It smells strongly of him, you think, before shooing the thought out your head. On the bright side, you feel slightly better when you’re dry. You smooth yourself back out, tucking it into your skirt before resuming your postion in the chair beside him. You don’t even need to look at him to know he’s fighting off a laugh.
“Much better, hmm?” He hums, resting his hand onto your back, “A bit less revealing too, hey?” You almost want to glare at him for that comment. You can’t tell if thats meant to be a joke to lighten the mood, or a serious comment. Either way.
His hand smooths over your back, which almost makes you squeak. “Well, what do you say?” It sounds less like a question, and more like an unspoken order. An order of talk to me.
You swallow your pride, turning to look at his all too smug face, your face still burning. God, you cant believe yourself. “Thank you, Mr Gojo.” Your voice quivers, and you just want this to be over. It seems to satisfy him, though, as he turns away, taking his hand off you. “My pleasure, sweetheart.” You try to dismiss that. That, and the undeniable, pesky heat festering in your abdomen.
The rest of the day goes by quietly. He works, you there silently until the clock hits 5.30, and you leave the building together. He bids you farewell, you return it politely. As soon as to return home, you change into more comfortable clothes, leaving his shirt draped over your chair. You go through the monotonous routine of dinner, T.V, before you go to bed. For a while, you lie in bed, staring at the wall, simply thinking. You wonder if Gojo is out to get you. Maybe this is a little hazing act, to see if your really cut out for this. Which could reasonably explain today’s…incident.
It seems reasonable, but then again, youre not in high school. He’s a grown man, and it was an honest mistake. You just need to sleep. You shake your head to nothing in particular, and roll over, closing your eyes. Sleep, again, comes quick. You can only hope for a better day tomorrow.
On Wednesday, your morning goes pretty much identically to yesterday. Today, you opt for a thick turtleneck sweater. Even if it’s mid June. Then, you leave your apartment to head for the same café you visited yesterday, to get Gojo his coffee before heading to the office. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. You make it up to your floor, heading for Gojo’s office. As you’ve learnt, you knock, and wait. Today, youre waiting for just a bit longer, before he calls out for you to come in.
When you open the door, the first thing you notice is the obvious tension in the room. The smile he offers you is tight, at best. Maybe he’s had a rough morning, or a rough evening last night. Either way, you don’t comment, giving him a small “good morning,” setting his coffee onto his desk. He grunts, taking a sip, before his face curls into a grimace, and he puts the cup on the desk rather heavy handed. “What the hell is this?” The raspiness in his voice does things to you you’re not proud to admit. You’re slightly confused. It’s the same Americano he got yesterday, and it’s not like you made it. Perhaps he’s just bitter over whatever’s happening this morning, and taking it out on you.
Whatever. You still have to be polite. “Uh- It’s the same coffee as yesterday, sir.” His face relaxes a small bit, into a look of annoyance rather than plain hostility, and he releases a long suffering sigh. “Whatever,” He huffs, “Just get it out of my sight.”
You don’t even think to mention that it cost you precious money, as you scramble to take it off his desk, taking it away to pour down the sink in the break room, tossing the cup away. Oh well, at least youve been able to conclude that he’s quite obviously in a mood. If you want to have a decent day, you’ll just to tread lightly. That’s okay, you can do that.
The rest of your day is spent with you keeping your head down. When he asks a question, you answer with a simple “yes, sir,” or a “no, sir.” You nod when you need to, you do what he asks without questions, and thankfully, very thankfully, the day goes well. Apart from a few orders that you personally thought were barked a little harshly, the days been pleasant. But more importantly, you survived. Thank god for that, huh?
It’s towards the end of the day, some people having already slipped out early, and your simply sitting, watching him. Which, has become your primary activity within the last few days. While, admittedly, mind numbingly boring, it does provide somewhat of an insight. Watching the way he does things, the way he’s organises, handles phone calls, the way his thick fingers look curled around the phone-
What’s gotten into you? You internally slap yourself for that thought. It’s not like you to be like that, nor is it at all professional. Well, to be fair to yourself, neither are some of the things he does. Oh well.
You’re about to start collecting your things to leave, before you’re distracted by the receptionist barging in, not even knocking. She seems a little frazzled. Everyone seems a little bit frazzled today, you can’t help but notice.
“Mr. Gojo,” She pants, “Excuse me, but- theres someone here for you.” A groan leaves him as he stands, walking briskly to the door. Whoever this is must be important, or annoying, you reckon. Before he leaves, though, he turns to you, making eye contact that has you shivering. He looks so done, brows drawn together, tension apparent on his handsome face. “Just- wait here, okay?”
You hardly get the chance to nod before hes out the door, slamming it slightly as he goes, leaving you in his office. Well, damn. What to do now? The reasonable thing to do would be to slip out early, leave when he’s not watching. But at the same time, you don’t really want to leave without his dismissal, and he did ask you to wait, didn’t he?
Your body deflates as you sigh, eyes raking over his office, landing on his desk, littered with different files and stray papers, and an idea forms. You’ve watched him enough to know mostly how he likes it, so why not organise his desk for him? It’ll give you something to occupy yourself, and who knows? Maybe it’ll even cheer him up. Show him that you are capable, too.
Yeah. Yeah, thats a good idea. A great idea, even. A proud little smirk plays on your lips as you stand behind his desk, shifting on your feet a little. To the best of your abilities, you order the various items scattered all over his desk. The files all stacked together, in a neat little pile. His pens back into their designated holder. A few of his trinkets, which consist of a stress ball, a stapler, and a small cactus plant, are put back into place. Not to toot your own horn or anything, but you did a pretty good job, if you don’t say so yourself.
You hum as you look over his now orderly desk, tapping your nails against it. Your nail traces the grain in the wood, before something catches your eye. The drawers on his desk. Which is nothing extraordinary, of course, most desks do come with drawers. He probably just keeps important files in there, maybe some personal items, right?
…It’s oh so tempting. You know it’s wrong to snoop through his desk like that, that you should just leave your good deed as is and just leave. But at the same time, one tiny peek won’t hurt anyone, right? it cant be anything crazy in there. Right. You’ll just have one, small, tiny look, and then go home. He won’t even know.
With that in your mind, you open the first drawer. As you suspected, nothing crazy. A unopened bag of hard candy, a packet of mints, his car keys, a case for his glasses, post it notes, hole punch, and a small unused note book. With a sigh, you close the drawer, careful not to disturb anything inside it. You almost feel…unsatisfied, in a way? Deep down, you thought maybe that he’s keeping some secrets, but this just makes him seem, well, ordinary. Oh well.
Your hand opens the other drawer, and your expectations are low. At first, all you see is a stack of papers, which doesn’t shock you. That is, until you notice something underneath. Your teeth worry your bottom lip, because simply snooping is one thing, but interfering with his stuff is a whole new can of worms. But the curiosity gnaws at you violently. You’ve gotten this far, haven’t you? It won’t hurt. Or, you hope it won’t. With one last cautious look to the door, your brain says fuck it, and your fingers delicately lift the few sheets of papers to reveal whatever’s hiding underneath, and oh, what you see has your heart in your ass.
It’s a collar. A thick, black leather collar, paired with what appears to be a leash, furled up tight. Right now, as you gape down at your newest finding, you can only think of two reasonable options. Either, Gojo is a passionate dog walker, or a really kinky bastard. You highly doubt the former, as it doesn’t look like any collar you’d put on a dog. It looks like it was made for a human neck.
You have so many questions running through your head. Why is it here? in a workplace? Has he…used it here before? For a reason you can’t and don’t want to place, the idea of him with someone else like that, makes you uneasy, a feeling like jealousy prickling your skin. But that doesn’t matter, because it’s none of your business, is it?
Now, is when you should close the door, leave it as you found it and leave. Try to forget what you just saw. But you physically cant, as you stand almost entranced. It’s like you’re frozen to the spot as you reach out, ever so gently running your fingertips over the leather over the collar. You’re so focused you don’t even notice the door opening and closing, until his rough voice sounds.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He nearly growls, and you jump out of your skin, slamming the drawer shut as you meet his eyes with your wide ones, and safe to say, he’s mad. Oh no. “Mr Gojo! I was j-just-“ You try to amend the situation, but he interrupts you, stalking over to look over you, a scowl etched onto his features as his glasses slide down his nose.
“Just what, exactly? Snooping through my shit, hmm?” Yeah, pretty much. You quiver on the spot, your choice of clothing doing nothing to help how hard you’ve started to sweat. Shit, this is really bad. This could cost you your internship, and what then? Try and find another one, maybe, but you’re sure Gojo would complain, prevent you from getting any worthwhile job again. The worst thing is that it really is your fault, he’s well within his rights to be mad at you raking through his things. Tears burn behind your eyes as your face heats up in shame, and you decide to have another go at pacifying him.
“I’m- sorry. Really, really sorry, sir.” You plead, voice shaking as you look up at him with wide, shiny eyes, and you’re sure you look utterly pathetic. In return, you get a rough exhale, his nostrils flaring as his eyes narrow. All the muscles in your body are coiled tight, prepared for him to lash out at you, to send you out the building, never to return. But…nothing ever comes. Just a scoff as he pushes past you to drop down into his seat. “Go,” He mumbles, “Just…get out of my sights.” Well, who are you to argue?
Quickly, you gather your things and bolt out the door, as quickly as possible without running, and possibly tripping, causing yourself even more embarrassment. The walk home is pretty much you jogging as best you can in heels, until you finally, finally reach your apartment. The door slams shut behind you, and you flop haphazardly onto the couch with a groan. God, you’re an idiot, aren’t you?
You should’ve just left it, now look at the mess you’re in. At least, you think, he didn’t get you fired. Thats not to say he isn’t going to go to Sukuna to complain, but as of right now, you still have your job. But, thats about the only positive you can find at the moment.
You try not to dwell on it. That anxious nausea is still dwelling within you, so you skip whatever shitty dinner you might’ve had, and go straight to shower. Maybe a relaxing hot shower will help you to forget your woes. Maybe. Probably. Probably not. You’re finally able to get out of that far too heavy sweater, tossing all your clothes into the hamper as you switch on the shower, letting it run before stepping in. A sigh of relief leaves you as you stand under the water, letting it caress your tired muscles.
You spend a while showering. Scrubbing yourself clean like youre trying to wash the days humiliation ritual away. Sure, you cry a little bit, but it’s needed after the day you’ve had. A bit of catharsis. Whatever makes it sound the best. You’re in the shower until the water is painfully cold against your skin, only then do you turn it off, stepping out and wrapping your towel around your body. You feel…slightly better.
With a sigh, you leave the bathroom, walking the short distance to your bedroom. The towel drops from your body, before you pick out a pair of panties from your dresser and slide them up your legs, and you’re about to look for a shirt to wear, before your eyes catch on something. Gojos shirt from yesterday, still draped over your chair. You shouldn’t, should you?
Tongue pressed to the inside of your cheek as you mull it over. You really shouldn’t, but you end up pulls it on anyways. It still smells like him, you notice, as you shamelessly bring the fabric to your nose. Smells like ridiculously expensive cologne, and the clean scent of whatever detergent he must use. Whatever it is, it smells good. A deep sigh leaves you, while you walk to your bed, starfishing on your back.
What a day. You throw your arm over your eyes, and for a moment, you just think. God, what must he think of you now? You think of him, the glare on his face, his fingers clenched into fists, the growl in his voice…damn.
It’s wrong, yes, you know. But you can’t help it. As much as his anger scares you, it… makes you feel things. Things you’re not proud of. Your lip tucks between your teeth as your fingers roam south, teasing the elastic of your panties, before slipping them down your legs, enough to spread your legs. You suck in a breath as soon as your make contact with your sensitive clit, eyes squeezing shut. Your fingertips glide over your clit, and unfortunately, all you can think of is Gojo. You can’t help but imagine him here. What it’d feel like to have his thick fingers replace your smaller ones. An embarrassing whimper slips out, legs jerking as you push your fingers inside, legs spreading wider. Would he be sweet, you wonder. Would he caress you lovingly, gently coax you open before making sweet love to you? Or would be rougher? Would he pull your hair, bite you until you squeal? Fuck you meanly until you were in tears? God, you cant say for sure.
You’d take anything, though. It’s been a while. Your fingers speed up as your legs twitch, your abdomen flexing as you whine, teasing yourself, just as you’d imagine he would do. You think of his fingers all over you, one hand occupied with bullying your poor pussy, the other keeping you quiet with his fingers in your mouth. God, you’re sick.
You can feel yourself getting close embarrassingly quick, so you speed up your fingers, your other hand coming down to play with your swollen clit. Your mind drifts back to him today. The memory of the angry scowl on his face shouldn’t arouse you as much as it does. God, you wish he had punished you properly. Maybe bent you over the desk and spanked you. Or put that collar and leash on you, and forced you to hump his leg like a pathetic dog. Tears well in your eyes, spilling over as you teeter on the precipice of release.
For the last time, the thought of his disappointed face, telling you how much of a pathetic little slut you are sends you over the edge, crying out as your legs tense, eyes rolling all the way back while your back arches off the bed. The pleasure that rolls through you is, well, really fucking intense. You gush around your own fingers, muttering under your breath to no one in particular, “F-fuck, ‘m sorry, Mr. Gojo, so- mm - sorry…” You’re hiccuping, sobbing fully, finally letting everything out as you fuck yourself into overstimulation. In a way, it’s therapeutic. It’s been a while since you’ve had a good cry, and such a good orgasm.
Eventually, the sensitivity becomes too painful, and you remove your fingers with a sloppy squelch. With a tissue from your bedside table, you wipe them clean, before tossing the tissue off your bedside table. Your panties are pulled back up, and you crawl under your covers. For the first time in a long while, you sleep well.
Thursday morning. You wake up slightly later, at 7. It’s a scramble to get ready, if you’re honest. Today, you choose a loose, navy blue blouse. God, you did sleep really well, you feel real refreshed, even if you’re absolutely dreading the day ahead. Will you even be able to look Gojo in eyes after touching yourself to the pure memory of him yelling at you, bringing you to a mind blowing orgasm if you do say so yourself? You guess you’ll find out.
You don’t have time to dwell on it. Again, you head to your local café, and today, you get him a more expensive coffee, a vanilla latte. Since he didn’t seem to like the coffee you got for him yesterday, and you’d also like to make it up to him, even if that’s by coffee.
You, thankfully, get to the office on time, heading up to his office. You must be more way more nervous to see him than you thought, the way your stomach has twisted itself into knots. Or maybe, it’s a weird sense of excitement? Whatever it is, you try not to stay stuck on it as you knock on his door, waiting outside. Today, he has you waiting for a full 3 minutes. Which is a record, so far.
Your hand is resting on the doorknob, and you’re about to just go in, wondering if he’s even in, before his voice, that same annoyance in it, comes through the door. “Come in.”
You bite your lip, opening the door, trying not to let him see how nervous you are standing before him. God, he’s really handsome, huh? It wasn’t hard to see before, but now, it’s like seeing him in a whole new light. You set his coffee on the desk, before standing up straight, fiddling with your fingers. Here goes nothing.
“Uhm…I’m really sorry about yesterday, Mr Gojo,” He leans back in his chair, arms folding over his chest, his biceps bulging even through the shirt. God, he’s sexy, you will admit. “I- It wasnt my intention to…” You trail off. What do you even say? You were definitely snooping, you just got caught. Your eyes drift to his face, to try and gauge his reaction. He looks a bit far off, you think, tongue pressed to his cheek as his eyes stare directly at your cleavage, rather shamelessly if you do say so. You’d complain if his attention wasn’t making you blush, just a little. What’s gotten into you?
He clears his throat, before leaning forward on the desk. “You understand what you did wrong, yes?” You nod rapidly, “And you understand that if I catch you doing something like that again, there will be real consequences?” You nod again, which has him raising his brow, as to say well?. Oh.
“Oh, yes, Mr Gojo, sir.” That seems to satisfy him, a small smirk twitching the corners of his lips up, and you could feel the pressure come off you, just a bit. “Well, luckily for you, I’m a nice kind of guy,” Debatable, “I think we can both move past it then. Start fresh, hmm?” He hums, and you nod, returning his smile. Even if he’s made your life somewhat hellish the past couple days, you can be thankful to him for not firing you.
Gojo seems proud of you and all feels right in the world again. “Come and sit, then.” Of course, you quickly hurry round to take your usual seat, as he takes a sip of his coffee, making a loud sound of satisfaction, close to a moan. Which has you looking up at him with wide eyes, biting your lip just a little.
“Mm, now that, is a good coffee.” He hums, and you hum, your smile spreading that bit wider. It’s more like him to act this way.
The rest of the day is a blur. Thankfully, today goes by without a hitch for the most part, marking your first humiliation free day working here. You give yourself a metaphorical pat on the back for that, because it has not been easy. At all. But hey, you’ve completely nearly a week, which is an achievement in your books.
Today, though, you catch yourself laying it on thick with Gojo. You listen extra attentively when he talks, laugh extra hard at his little jokes, trying your hardest to impress him. You don’t know what’s driving you to act this way. It’s like you just woke up, and you’re suddenly full with the need to make him proud, to make him like you. Or maybe you always were, and it was suppressed?
It doesn’t matter, either way, he seems to love the attention. It seems he isn’t very hard to please, you’ve learned. One little giggle has him preening. Well, whatever keeps happy, keeps him happy. Thats all you’ll say.
The day comes to a close, and you get ready to leave. As usual, he walks with you the elevator, and out the building. You go to bid him farewell, but his hand lands on your lower back, stopping you to a standstill. “I just wanted to say,” You have to act like his voice in your ear doesn’t have you shivering, “You did a really great job today, pet.” He nearly purrs, his hand drifting down, grabbing a handful of your ass, and you nearly whine. Doing such things at all has the hairs raising on the back of your neck, but in such a public place, wbere anyone could be watching? It has you sweating. You quickly step away, trying to act unaffected.
“Thank you, sir,” You hum in return, giving him a polite, albeit shaky, smile, “I suppose I’lll see you tomorrow, then?” He nods, clearing his throat, and with that, you turn to leave. It’s weird, it’s like today went too well. Other than leaving you in a bit of emotional turmoil.
Even as you enter your apartment, it’s still eating at you. On one hand, it seems you’ve gotten yourself into a pretty good place with Gojo, even after the week you’ve had. Having such a positive relationship with someone so high up in the company, could for sure benefit you in the long run. You wouldn’t want to put that at stake by trying to throw yourself at him, or letting yourself get sucked into his apparently teasing and flirting, no matter how badly you want him. Right?
Ugh, this is all way too hard. Your body practically deflates as you settle on the couch, a bowl of noodles rested on your knees as you click on the tv, even if your minds occupied elsewhere. You’re a grown adult, not a horny teenager. This shouldn’t be a difficult decision. So, how come it is?
All your noodles get slurped down, and you turn off the T.V, getting off the couch with a frustrated groan. The bowl is left in the sink as you shuffle off to your bedroom. You get changed into your sleepwear, going through the paces of your familiar routine. Even after you’ve crawled into bed, your mind is still on it. God, why won’t your brain just shut up?
After a while of tossing, and even more turning, you come to the conclusion that you won’t have to worry about Gojo after tomorrow, sorta. Like he said, it’s only your first week you’ll be spending with him. So, soon enough, you won’t be seeing him everyday anymore. So you won’t have to worry so much about his…antics, anymore. Which, almost makes you sad, in some weird way. It’s all way too complicated. Eventually, you succumb to sleep, and you hope for a day like today. Uneventful.
Friday. Finally, friday. Your routine has practically become muscle memory. Today, you choose a fitted black blouse, and a push up bra to go with your usual get up of skirt, stockings, heels. For no reason at all. Then, you leave your apartment to get Gojo his coffee for the last time. You’ll be happy to get to leave your apartment later, that much you can say.
It’s the usual shebang. Coffee, Then to the office, up onto the floor of his office, and waiting outside his door. You’re only waiting for a moment today, which impresses you.
“Good morning,” You hum, setting down his coffee, and taking the seat beside him. His eyes drift down to your cleavage, and he smirks, although he doesn’t make a comment. “Mm, good morning to you too.” His voice is like silk on your ears, and you can’t deny that you’ll miss that a lot. He raises the paper cup to his lips to take a sip, before smacking his lips, settling it back on the desk.
“So, how’ve you found your first week?” He questions, and you could laugh. Is there even a word for it? Embarrassing, maybe. Humiliating. Stressful. Those are definitely all words you would use to describe your experience so far. Of course you’re not going to say any of those, but, that won’t stop you from thinking them.
Eventually, after a moment of careful consideration, you land on the word you’d say suits best. “It’s been…different.” You try, “I’ve never experienced anything like this before.” He hums in return, the smile on his face spreading wider. “Mhm. It can get a little wild here sometimes, yeah?” He says, like he isn’t the usual suspect of causing such trouble, and chaos. You don’t say that, though, just nod politely in turn.
The rest of your morning is relatively chill. It’s the same old story, watching him do his work, occasionally asking a few questions to show that youre still engaged, until lunch rolls round In the afternoon, he takes you to see where you’ll be working full time starting Monday, and you get the fluttering feeling all over again. Monday, you decide, will be the real start of your new job. Not like this week hasn’t taught you things, no. You’d just like not to dwell on it too much, simple as that. The rest of your afternoon is spent running around doing errands for him. Which consists of asking people to sign things for him, which gives you a chance to introduce yourself to people, and looking for a pack of blue ball tip pens. Riveting work, really.
The end of the day comes quickly, surprisingly so. You’re getting ready to leave, while he’s still focused on his work. The sound of you standing is enough to snap his head up, eyes on you. “Leaving already?” Well, obviously.
“Mhm, it’s six thirty.” You murmur, watching him lean back in his chair. Theres an almost…disappointed look on his face. Huh. “Oh,” He sniffs, “I see.” He almost sounds…dejected, for some reason? You don’t really want to touch on it.
“Well,” You offer, “Guess I’ll see you on monday.” All you get is a hum in return, and you suppose that’s your cue to leave. You survived. Survived through today, through this insane week. Thats all you could’ve hoped for.
You don’t even get to touch the doorknob before he’s striding up behind you, hauling you back by the wrist. A squeak leaves you, which he silences with a passionate, albeit messy kiss. His big hands move to hold your face, and you can’t help but melt into it. He’s a great kisser, unfortunately.
Eventually, he pulls away, leaving you both panting for breath as a delicate strand of salvia bridges between your lips, before it breaks away. What the hell? Did that just happen? You’re frozen in utter shock, because you, quite frankly, didn’t expect that. The right, proper thing to do would be to push him away, wouldn’t it? So why aren’t you? Even more so, why are you enjoying this? Being held like this?
“Fuck,” He growls, bringing your focus back to the present. One of his big hands moving to grope your ass roughly, making you squeal, “Teasin’ me like this.” Oh. The almost pained sound of his voice makes you whine a little, causing him to laugh hoarsely. “Mm, I know baby,” His tongues darts out to wet his lips as his darken eyes roam over your face. “I know what you need.”
With very little finesse, he practically drags you over to his desk, pushing you onto your knees, leaving you with little choice to resist. His hands fumble awkwardly with his belt, before he pops the button and the zipper, letting his slacks fall down his thighs enough to allow him to slide his boxer briefs down. His cock juts out impressively, and you gasp audibly. He’s huge, a fat blue vein running up the side, leading to the bulbous head of his dick, drooling a milky white bead of precum over your face.
He laughs at your reaction, holding himself at the root as he taps the tip against your forehead. “Big, aint it?” Comes his voice. All you offer in return is an awkward nod. He chuckles again, a little smugly, as he grips the back of your head with his free hand, fingers carding through your hair. “Go on, then, open nice ‘n wide…” He coos, tip pressed to the seam of your lips. With a little reluctance, you open your mouth, big eyes looking up at him, and he groans as he finally feeds his cock inside your cute mouth, head tipping back.
“Tha’s it, babygirl, like that..” He groans, hooking his thumb into your jaw to open your mouth a little wider, “Jus’ watch the teeth, puppy.” Oh. Now that does something to you. Something you weren’t aware of before. To be honest, even now, you’re still in shock, unable to fully process what’s happening right now. But one thing you know for sure, is that some twisted part of you likes this, if the sticky, molten heat coating your abdomen is anything to go by.
You do your best to relax your throat, tongue laving over his cock as he rests heavy in your mouth. Slowly, he begins to thrust in and out, bringing his cock all the way out until only the tip is pressed to your lips, before bullying it back down your throat. His thrusts start slow, almost gentle, but it doesn’t take him long to get lost in his own pleasure. Your hands move to grip his thighs tightly, letting your nails dig into his muscles, hot tears trailing down your flushed cheeks as your throat tightens around him, causing him to groan. A sloppy mix of pre and spit drool down your chin, onto your tits, making you squirm uncomfortably. He laughs roughly, making you whine around his dick.
“Look at you,” His voice is oh so condescending, “You fuckin’ love this, don’t you?” Unfortunately, yes. It feels like your brain is currently melting, making it hard to focus on anything that isn’t his dick. A hiccup bubbles from you, your throat getting real tight around him, and you feel him moan obnoxiously, wrapping your hair around his fist to grip it tightly. “Shit, y’r gonna make me cum,” His voice is nearly a whine, “Is that what you need, puppy? You need me to cum down this throat?”
You can only choke around his dick in return, spluttering as his hips speed up, starting to stutter and jerk, letting you know he’s close. His hips jerk once, twice, before he’s burying himself snuggly down your abused throat, your nose pressed into the coarse white hair framing the base of his cock. Drool spills from your stretched, swollen lips, coating his heavy balls that’re pressed firmly to your chin. His head tips back as he releases down your throat, coating your throat with his thick spend, and you have no choice but to swallow.
Eventually, he pulls out with a soft squelch, allowing you to finally wheeze for breath, wiping the drool off your tear stained cheeks. Although, the moment of reprise is short lived, as he hauls you up by the hair, tears burning in your eyes at the stinging in your scalp. You hate yourself for how much you like it.
Before you can even process it, you’re bent over his desk, skirt hiking up in the process, your stockings pulled down. A groan comes from him, so you can guess he likes what he sees. His hand smooths over your pert ass, before delivering a firm smack to one of the cheeks, making you jolt, hands tightening on the edge of the desk. A amused hum leaves his lips, hand kneading the reddening spot he just spanked, before giving it another, harder smack. This time, a whimper leaves your lips, your eyes scrunching up in pain. That seems to satisfy him, as he moves his hands further down, fingers tracing the wet spot, obvious on the white cotton of your panties, and an amused scoff leaves him.
“So wet. All from sucking me off, huh, baby?” The tone is sugary sweet, making you whine, your lip tucked between your teeth. You listen to him click his tongue against his teeth, and you can almost hear him shaking his head. His nimble fingers tug your panties down your thighs, exposing your swollen pussy to the cool air of his office, and he laughs far too smugly as he feels you shiver. Asshole.
“God, you really are dripping, you little perv.” He breathes, “You like this real bad, don’t you? Hm?” When you don’t answer, he huffs, before giving a firm spank to the sensitive lips of your cunt. Fuck. Your legs jerk as you squeak embarrassingly, already overheated face pressed to the hardwood of his desk. “O-Oh, yes, Mr. Gojo.” Your own voice sounds unfamiliar, squeaky and still hoarse from the rough fucking your throat received. Your ears pick up the airy hum that leaves him, and you expect that to be that. You don’t expect him to deliver another rough slap to your poor pussy, which really makes you squeal this time. “Louder.” His voice is harsher, making you clench around nothing.
“Y-yes! Oh f-fuck,” Your voice quivers, struggling to respond as he continues to abuse your cunt, making it drip harder. He keeps going, until you start to kick your legs out violently, tears welling in your eyes as you practically beg for him to stop. Only then does he stop, in favour of crouching down, now eye level with your pussy. His big hands come to hold you, thumbs spreading your puffy labia open to get a good view of your sticky pussy, your hole clenching around nothing as your clit throbs from just his eyes on you. Which has you squirming.
“S-Stop..” You whine, looking over your shoulder at him as he practically burns holes into your cunt with his eyes, “You’re staring..” He only hums, his lips tilting into a devilish smirk. “Shh, honey, ‘s okay, ‘m just seeing how hungry this little pussy is,” He soothes, or at least, tries to in his own special way, before spitting a wad of saliva directly on your clit, before following it with his tongue. And oh, that has you nearly screaming.
“Ooh- My god!” You squeal, legs jerking uncontrollably as his fat tongue laps harshly at your puffy clit, licking broad stripes, before sucking it between his teeth, which has you crying out, “Fuck! S-so good..” He hums against your cunt, the vibrations sending chills up your spine. He pulls away momentarily, the loss of contact making you whine needily. His middle finger comes to circle your twitchy hole, before it slips in, stretching you just right. It’s embarrassing, but you’re already close, just from this. God, he must think you’re such a slut now. Maybe he’d be right.
But in this moment, you cant bring yourself to care. Your brain is almost fully mush as you drool over his desk, his finger curling inside you in a way that has you shaking. The pad of his thumb comes to play with your sticky clit, and you mewl, tears threatening to spill yet again. You’re so goddamn close. “‘M close, fuck, please let me cum,” You whimper, only to be met with a scoff. He pulls his finger out, and you want to cry. What a bastard.
“Not yet.” Is all he says, rather ominously. You lie there on his desk, left unsatisfied, as what wouldve been a great orgasm tapers off. He seems to be looking through his drawer for a moment, before he finds what he’s looking for. “Stand up.” Damn. He sounds so serious all of a sudden. Of course, you comply, standing with your back to him on shaky legs. You’re a little confused, until you feel him placing something around your throat, and suddenly it clicks. Oh my god.
He secures the collar around your neck, before pressing a kiss to your shoulder. The collar is just as heavy as it seems, and sits snugly against your neck. He spins you around, to get a better look, you presume, and the look in his eyes as his eyes take you in makes you heat up even more, if thats even possible. His bottom lip folds between his teeth as he tucks your hair behind your ear, running his fingers over the leather adorning your neck, before clipping on the leash, giving it a light tug. “What a sight you are, hmm?” His soft is almost gentle, even if his actions so far have been anything but. You look up at him with wide glassy eyes, making him groan. “Don’t look at me like that.”
His hands come to hook under your thighs, lifting you up off the ground, catching you by surprise. He’s strong. His lips press to yours briefly, before he lays you down on his desk, hooking your ankles over his shoulders. The thick head of his cock rubbing your over sensitive clit teasingly as he grinds himself against you. It’s agonising, you just need him to fuck you already. You can tell he wants to, too, by the half lidded look on his face. Your pride is practically all gone by now, you might as well beg.
“Come on, please..” He hums as you try to shift your hips against his, trying to usher him on. The hand wrapped around the leash tugs it harshly again, acting as a reminder to behave. “Patience, puppy. Don’t be so needy.” Ugh. You wish he would just hurry up.
It’s clear he’s desperate too, though. The head of his cock rubs up against your clit once, twice, before he slips in just the tip, which is still enough to have him groaning, head tipped back. Admittedly, even just the tip has you wincing, your face screwing up in a mix of pain and pleasure. Apparently, he takes that as a cue to start to push inside, slowly letting your underprepared pussy open up around his fat cock, until he’s fully seated within you, and you can practically see the droplet of sweat running down his temple. You’d laugh, if the burning in your abdomen didn’t currently have you nearly crying. “Jesus christ, you’re fuckin’ tight.” His voice rasps, which alone has you whimpering.
Slowly, his hips pull back, until he’s fully left your heat, and he pushes back in, letting your cunt hug him tightly. His thrusts start slow, almost teasingly so as his one of his hands grip your thigh, the other still holding the leash taut, enough to slightly restrain your breathing. His hips start to speed up, his mushroom tip bullying your g-spot, which has you moaning unabashedly, as tears fill your eyes. You’re a total mess, you realise. Dried tears, drool, and probably cum dried on your cheeks, your hair messed up from him pulling on it, your forehead moist with perspiration, but right now, you couldn’t care less.
Your tits, still within your shirt, bounce from the roughness of his thrusts, which he must notice, because he growls, taking a moment to rudely rip your shirt open, the buttons flying off. You gasp loudly, and you would attempt to glare at him, if he wasn’t currently fucking you into another dimension.
“These fuckin’ tits,” His free hand reaches out to grope one of them through your bra, which has you whining. His voice is hoarse, almost a deep growl, “Walking around with them on display all the time. ‘S like you w-wanted me to fuck you, huh?” You cant tell if thats a rhetorical question or not. Not that you’d be able to reply smartly anyways, with the way his cock has disintegrated your brain.
He seems to realise this, and takes it as a sign to speed up, his hips smacking against your clit, heavy balls slapping against your ass. The looming feeling of the impending orgasm comes over you again, which you try to verbalise to him. “Fuck, Mr- Uh, Mr Gojo, ‘m close, so so close.” Your voice breaks as the first hot tears spill over, and he frowns down at you, almost faux sympathetically. “I know, baby, I know,” He coos, his fingers coming to play with your poor, abused clit, making you clench harshly around him. “Fuck, you’re so good.”
His hips stutter, and you can tell he’s close. “So fuckin’ good. Maybe I’ll just have to- keep you. Be my little desk pet, huh? Keep my cock warm while I work, hmm? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He’s rambling incessantly, in a way that would be annoying if you weren’t teetering on the edge of a mindblowing release. “Or, better yet,” He pants, “I’ll just take you home. Keep you as my pet, mm, puppy? Have you stay at home, waitin’ for me to get home to fuck your pretty brains out?” His fingers pinch your swollen clit, and that, sends you over the edge with a violent wail.
Your toes curl so hard your entire foot cramps, as your eyes roll all the way back, like youve been possessed. Your pussy grips him so hard as you gush around him, that it’s almost painfully, and you swear you hear him moan through the thrumming blood pounding in your ears. He follows quickly behind you, grinding his cock deep inside your convulsing walls before you feel his load coating your walls, his dick pulsing inside you, a groan leaving him as he folds over you, his still clothed chest pressed to yours. In a desperate attempt to have him closer, you wrap your arms around his thick neck, your nails digging into him, just a little. Holy fuck.
You lie like that for a solid minute, trying to regather your bearings. Once you’ve both somewhat rediscovered how to breathe properly, he presses an almost tender kiss to your cheek, before standing up, unfurling himself from you. Painfully, he pulls himself out of you, which has you both groaning simultaneously, and wipes his softening dick off with a tissue, before tucking himself back into his pants, redoing his belt. You do the same, pulling your panties back up, along with your stockings, although you’re unsure what to do with the shirt. Inconsiderate ass.
He clears his throat, hands tucked into his pockets.
“I guess I’ll see you on Monday, then.”