Take me, sempai

      A crazy glance slides over the senpai’s lips, noticing the small wounds that he unconsciously made in bouts of concern for the active kohai. Yuuji Itadori was someone who could not be stopped by rules or physicality when he thought something was important, even if it made everyone else nervous. This is why Haibara survived. All because Yuji, tormented by the incessant cries of intuition, at the last moment rushed after the first-years on a mission and found them thoroughly battered and fighting with all their strength. Without giving the curse a second to think, the fiery arrow was already flying in his direction, and the third-year student himself ran to the victims. Seko was still delighted for a week, talking about the amount of cursed energy that senpai poured into Yui to heal her wounds, could be an excellent help for a shaman of about the second rank. Everyone unanimously decided not to discuss Yuji’s exotic appearance with four arms when he brought the victims. Some out of a sense of tact, and others, like Satoru, did not want to discuss this with anyone except Itadori himself, because he invariably became excited, as soon as he recalled the mouth-watering pictures in his memory. Even a powerful-looking back, covered with black tattoos. Hands that carried the two first years so easily, as if holding them did not cost him an iota of effort. And, undoubtedly, chest with bulging muscles underneath and rock-solid abs. Perfection that gives him a painful erection every time the memories flash before his eyes. The young man desperately wanted him to take it. So that Yuji would possess him as if he knew that Satoru, with all his being, belongs to only one being in the entire universe. And this is his senpai. Kind and warm, like the sun, to everything that falls under his gaze, exactly until the moment he finds himself on the battlefield. This is exactly how other third-year students described their comrade, unaware of how much they, with their words, aroused the curiosity of those unfortunate people who were not lucky enough to see it. Gojo was just one of them. After all, he was not able to catch this picture even once during his two years of study. Although he was assigned, like Itadori, the rank of “special”, he has not yet been sent to curses higher than pre-first, when Yuji is always on the road, killing a special level and raiding the college. This time he visited China and brought back many varieties of mochi, which Satoru immediately privatized, as well as ma chiu, which went to Suguru, who is not particularly fond of anything sugary. Seko was given the highlight of the impromptu program - Beijing apples, which had not even had time to cool down yet. The stupefying smell seemed to penetrate everyone who was in the room at that moment, and so Seko had to share it with everyone, but she seemed not to be offended. The active Itadori apparently decided to joke a little with the first-year students, because the fact that he brought them Niangao cookies cannot be anything other than quality banter. For his friends, the traitor senpai, who had never brought anything resembling alcohol, brought a couple of bottles of Shaoxing Ju. And it's not like anyone was offended except Satoru. Everyone knew that before they crossed the threshold of the third year, they would not get a drop of alcohol. They all wanted to go to bed when they heard an argument between Yuji and Nobara, who had gotten pretty drunk. Everyone unanimously changed their minds and now pretended to be vigorously active in silent mode, wanting to find out the reasons for the discord. It turned out that the girl convinced him that nothing bad would happen if he turned into “that” form. After all, he told them that he could even breathe easier in it, and here was college. Here they saw something other than just a four-armed student. Yes, perhaps they should have, having learned the reason for the dispute and Itadori’s agreement, as he called it “they will exchange”, go to their place and eventually fall asleep, but they do not do this. And Satoru regrets it the next minute. He really regrets it. After all, he will never forget the image of his beloved senpai, stretched out on the sofa and looking like an ancient deity. It seems that this picture will be on his deathbed. Which, by the way, is rapidly approaching, since he only realizes himself after Suguru pokes him in the ribs, and all eyes, without exception, are directed at him. It takes a minute for him to realize, and he clearly understands why everyone is staring at him. He moaned. Damn it, he groaned loudly when his gaze slid over the shaman and now he should at least somehow explain himself, but he would rather die from embarrassment, so he prefers to flee. Already in his room, he lies on the bed and, with a burning face, squeezes his penis through the fabric, trying to somehow give vent to the accumulated excitement. Kami-sama, if he doesn't die from overexcitement now, he will die from Yuuji's questioning look tomorrow. Just because he was drunk doesn't mean he won't remember. Against his own will, pictures flash before his eyes in which Yuji puts him on his knees right in the living room, forcing him to suck him off and independently controlling the speed. Senpai will be in actionbe rude, and the next day the guy will wheeze with a damaged throat. Here he is standing next to Itadori on a mission, trying not to move and listening to a very dubious danger, while he covers his face with his palm. To his surprise, his mouth opens to drink all the air from his lungs to the bottom, forcing him to choke with excitement. The boy will try in vain not to fall on the floor in front of Yuji, but his legs can’t hold him up at all. His lover will be nearby and his fox gaze will mockingly watch his futile attempts to move through the pain of arousal. He will be jerked off right in the building, and then after orgasm he will be picked up in his arms when his legs, no longer holding the owner, completely refuse to listen to him. Sweet dreams and the much-needed release are interrupted by an unexpected knock on the door, causing Satoru to jump in surprise. He wraps himself in a robe, hiding his excitement, and opens the door, intending to express in person everything that he thinks about the troublemakers. However, the words get stuck in his throat when he sees the face of a slightly tipsy Yuji right in front of him. The finishing blow to the head will be the fact that he flaunts himself in only sweatpants, apparently deciding that he really doesn’t have to hide all this, appearing in front of an excited second-year student who is desperate to get release in a very piquant form. He, without giving himself or him time to come to his senses, maddened by raging hormones, pulls Senpai in, kissing him. Kami-sama, he needs him so much every time he sees him and absorbs the light that the elder lavishes when he is so happy with life. So if he dies of embarrassment tomorrow while explaining himself, then let it be for the cause. However, in Satoru’s carefully calibrated plan, something cracks with a roar when he is not pushed away and runs away, but pulled, pushing him closer into his room. It seems that instead of kissing, Yuuji intended to drink his soul, because he does not pull away for a long time, despite quite active attempts to gain air. He kisses as if oxygen is completely alien to him, and Gojo willingly believes it. An ordinary person cannot remain without oxygen for that long. It’s all the more strange to feel that with the subsequent second without air, his penis stands up even more. He never suspected he had a strangulation fetish, yet he discovers it in himself at just such a moment. What is happening between them cannot be described in words, and he knows for sure that if Yuji touches his penis now, he will cum. The young man does not know to whom he is praying. Kami, Buddha or his personal damned deity, so that he could enjoy this evening to the fullest, and not shamefully pass out from the first orgasm. And now, having thoroughly deprived him of the ability to breathe, they throw him onto his own bed, covering him with a powerful body. The gaze of cunning eyes probes him as if they know every secret, every so carefully hidden desire, and from this fact Satoru’s own member twitches with interest. Yuuji only asks permission once before continuing and he seems to groan again instead of answering. They undress him, literally tearing off his clothes and throwing them behind his back. With four hands, his partner manages to undress him in record time and now senpai’s gaze slides, possessively groping his body, flushed with embarrassment. The colors of embarrassment have already spread to his chest, but Satoru doesn’t care. He had never felt so good and so drunk. Yuji's kiss tastes like alcoholized cherries. The partner disappears from his sight in an instant, settling down between his strong thighs and spreading them apart, enjoying the fresh smell of shampoo and a little of the body odor of his Satoru. The excitement of every breath feels like sandpaper on your nerves. He takes the dick into his throat and moans contentedly on it, making the guy whine pitifully. Yuji arrived at a time when Satoru had inflamed himself beyond recognition and now every caress is felt a hundred times more acutely. His hips involuntarily jump, trying to push deeper into the hot haze, but strong hands press him back to the bed, not paying any attention to his pathetic attempts to control the situation. Satoru's trembling hand automatically reaches for his hair in an attempt to adjust the pace, but is abruptly cut off by a loud moan when the dick is pushed deeper into his throat and swallowed on it. During this time, Itadori is completely focused on bringing as much pleasure to his partner as possible. Because he waited so long for the moment to appropriate the entire young man for himself. From the tips of his toes to the top of his head and his whitening hair, how could he afford to end it here with a pathetic blowjob? He wants to get everything that can be given to him. He listens to his partner’s body, sensitively reacting to every spasm in the muscles stretched like a string. Just how turned on his beloved kouhai is, there is little doubt that he will cum soon, and he decides not to deny him. Pass the dick back down your throat and moan, sending vibrations. Feel a convulsive grip in thelos and warm moisture running down the throat. Release from the wet grip and move your head slightly from side to side, shaking off your hand. Raise yourself above the bed with your hands to see Satoru completely exhausted and sprawled on the crumpled sheets. A sly smile stretches his lips, and the next moment Yuuji’s tongue disappears from below again. The tongue suddenly passes between the buttocks and pushes deep into Gojo, drunk with pleasure, enjoying the spasms of the sensual body. He must prepare it well before the second year can take it without pain and problems. Satoru, through the post-occupation bliss, feels a flexible, long tongue in himself and shudders, clenching on it. It all seems like a sweet dream from which you don’t want to get out. Itadori caresses him hungrily and, apparently, prepares him for himself. It's a fantasy he's in, but he's not ready to give it up. Hands hold his dancing hips while he is thoroughly licked, imposing his own pace from within and adjusting the dose of pleasure received as he pleases. What we so sweetly dreamed of would be reproduced in reality, taking away the last thought. Now he is not ready to give up this god-like body, even under pain of death. His toes curl convulsively as his flexible tongue strokes his prostate in a strong stroke, and Yuuji himself groans, sending vibrations. He will simply die from overexcitement here and now and will not get to the main course. He is not at all sure that he will be able to endure another orgasm if he is allowed to cum now, but no one responds to his warnings, so he can only rely on his body and stamina. Which was clearly inferior to the patience and endurance of the senpai himself. He feels every movement inside him and spontaneously opens his eyes, propping himself up on his elbows with the desire to see him Yuuji. The sight that appears before the untrained eye makes the eyes darken. A wide back with tense muscles, his own hips resting freely on his shoulders, and most importantly, sly hazel eyes that look straight at him. The color of embarrassment floods his face again, and Gojo hastily lies back, feeling his cheeks burning, but he is not allowed to hide. By sharply tugging at himself, senpai gets his head raised again, to which, pulling away, he whispers “Look me in the eyes Sato, look and don’t dare look away,” eyes rounded in surprise shed balm on the soul. A sharp push back is enough to bring you to the edge. His back arches, his muscles spasm as he is licked through his orgasm. Satoru suddenly thinks that this is not fair. While he was languishing with excitement, he didn’t even bother to do anything with the erection, which was so clearly visible that the suddenly emboldened second-year student took his leg off his strong shoulder and ran his foot along the entire length. After such blatant provocation, his ankle is intercepted and brought to his mouth, biting the protruding vein above the bone. Gojo blushes again, looking at such an unfamiliar, but terribly attractive senpai. He slowly pulls himself in his arms closer to the spellbound kohai and kisses him with pleasure. The tongue runs pleadingly across the lip, asking for permission to enter and receiving it, gently rubbing against the other. There's so much painful tenderness in the kiss that Gojo barely whimpers and raises his hand, burying himself in the perfect mess of Itadori's head with pleasure. The body aches pleasantly in the most unexpected places, but the sudden thought that it is too empty overtakes it in a big way. He whispers a barely audible request to the senior partner and he happily fulfills it. He lifts it with his hands with such ease that Satoru, who on this wonderful evening discovered that he unexpectedly likes to feel like he is in the place of a cherished princess, groans quietly. All his senses scream that senpai did not use a single drop of cursed energy for this trick, but he did not even sway, lifting him into the air. The member has been standing again for a long time from such casually shown power. Yuji holds him in the air, slowly pushing him onto himself and with a satisfied smile, feeling how Gojo convulsively grabbed onto him. In the whirlpool of pleasure that senpai so carefully plunges him into, his neck remains the only landmark that he can hold on to. There is too much of everything and he cannot describe all his sensations, while he is forcefully lowered onto himself and just as easily lifted, achieving convulsive moans and hoarse cries. After each push, billions of stars scatter before the eyes of a bundle of nerves. A hand covers Satoru’s mouth when, through a series of sobs, he manages to whisper that they can certainly be heard. He doesn’t have time to be upset about this, because his mouth opens on her - an additional mouth - continuing to take away the already small supply of oxygen. It’s not that the second year is somehow against this, but the thought is shining in his brain that his body may not withstand a third orgasm. Slowly deflating from his lungsthey snatch the air, playing with his tongue, grabbing his lips and not allowing him to pull away to gain oxygen when his insides were burning with fire. They only laugh at his need for air, and at the same moment, when he heard velvety laughter in his ear, the second hand covers the penis with an open mouth and allows it to slide into his throat, forcing Satoru’s lungs to give up the pitiful remains of oxygen. His body is so in need of a third orgasm, and his tear-stained face looks so terribly cute that Yuuji wouldn’t be him if he ignored his partner’s needs for so long. He finally stops blocking the air, removing his hand, which immediately finds a new home on the lower back, and his head bows to the defenseless throat to leave his sign. The graceful body arches in orgasmic spasms when Itadori decides to mock Satoru just a little more. He knows that he will endure, since the kohai himself was quite greedy, even for people or for pleasure, so Yuji only hopes that he did not overestimate the strength of his beloved. Gojo whines loudly as his hypersensitive body continues to be stimulated with the same intensity. The mind was clouded by a fever of pleasure, making one forget about everything in the world. The movements in him slowed down slightly, replaced by the force with which he was being lowered. He's on the verge of his fourth orgasm, and it's not like he has any strength left to comment on it. The exhausted body arches in painful spasms of pleasure when Satoru feels how they slip out of him, lowering him onto his back. The fact that Senpai came once against his four times hurts his self-esteem, but he is not allowed to think about it. He is pushed onto the bed, where he can finally let himself melt into a happy puddle as a strong body covers him with a hot blanket. They can discuss everything tomorrow, but for now the only thing he can afford to promise is to try not to die of embarrassment. In his worries, he does not notice the affectionate look that accompanies his every movement. Yuji in his thoughts promises himself to deal with today tomorrow, but for now he allows himself to rest, scooping up the fallen asleep Satoru.